#namjoon scenarios

[ugh-yoongi]

a word from our sponsors | knj

you’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it. 🎙️

pairing: namjoon x f. reader genre: podcast, friends to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact. warnings: parasocial relationships galore, a m*n with a p*dcast, author abuses italics, swearing, alcohol, reader uses a pseudonym/nickname (piper) because writing the meta fanfiction scene would've been too weird without one and i refuse to use y/n, dialogue-heavy but it is a fic about a podcast, everyone is down horrendous, mentions of social media & fake r*ddit posts, ex-boyfriend yoongi but in a good, healthy way. let me know if i missed anything but mostly this is just two goofballs not realizing they're in love with one another. smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex (fiction), protected vaginal sex (nonfiction), a lil squirting, mild degradation, mentions of a p*ss kink but there is no actual pee i promise (...lest?), i didn't intend to write size kink but it's namjoon so it just showed up anyway, slight dom!joon, everyone orgasms. wordcount: 17.5k credits: this was entirely inspired by that one episode of the basement yard where frankie reads the smut fic of him and joe, so credits to both that author and that podcast. spotify, for their podcast name generator. astro-seek for helping me drag namjoon astrologically. an extra special, gigantic thanks to @effortandmore for writing the meta fanfic (3k of it, no less!) and not batting an eye when i said it could have pee in it as a joke. this is as much yours as it is mine. finally, @hot-soop and @the-boy-meets-evil for reading this over for me and telling me i'm funny. author's note: happy birthday, indigo! here i am to validate every fear you've ever had that the people you write porn about may one day read it. live and on air. :)

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years.

You can learn a lot about a guy in that amount of time.

None of it is especially salacious. You know all about his family and his dog and the brand of recycled paper towels he insists on buying in bulk. You know what he’d written his grad school thesis on and what he’d looked like in the thick of it, when he was staving off his fifth mental break of the week. You know how fidgety he gets when it’s closing in on Friday night and he’s got a date—how much he stresses over which restaurant to pick, which cologne, which expensive cashmere sweater to wear.

You also know what the internet thinks about him. Intimately.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is peak husband material. He has cheeks ripe for pinching and thighs small countries would go to war to defend. He has a lap that doubles as a seat and dimples people want to get baptized in. He has Instagram selfies with hundreds of thousands of likes and comment sections full of intelligible keysmashes, especially the ones he posts from the gym.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is a man written by a woman.

Looking at him now, you aren’t sure that’s true, you think people just need to raise their standards. Namjoon is just… Namjoon. He’s intelligent and kind and up to date on modern feminist theory, is all. And, sure, maybe in the current political landscape that puts him far above the rest of men, but the way the internet has latched onto him is a little concerning.

“There’s another post about whether or not we’re dating,” you say, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

sooo let’s be real here, we ALL think they’re dating, right?? Posted by u/pod-shipper 2 hours ago

Just like he always does, Namjoon huffs out a soft laugh, makes his way around to your side of the table. Puts his large hands on your shoulders as he leans in close to read from your screen, snorting every time he reads a sentence he finds particularly amusing. Whichever cologne he’d chosen this morning is, admittedly, very nice.

It’s sooo obvious, especially in the episodes they film and post on YouTube. The way they look at each other?? I don’t even look at my HUSBAND like that! (+1264) ↳ omg ur sooooo right! i could MAYBE buy that they aren’t full on dating, but they’ve def at least slept together. Namjoon is so 🔥🔥🔥 (+791) ↳ um how can namjoon be dating her when he’s already married to me 😌💅 (+3) ↳ For the millionth time, can we not speculate on their personal lives? This is weird and reinforces really harmful ideas that men and women can’t just be friends. (-51)

“How come they never talk about how hot you are?”

You can tell by the look on Namjoon’s face that he hadn’t meant to say that—or, if he did, he didn’t mean to say it like that, with an entire pout, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “Cursed to be ugly and dumb,” you joke to ease the sudden tension, reading the comment that simply says you’d have to be the dumbest person alive to not sleep with Namjoon.

He scrunches his nose at that. Returns to his side of the table. “Yeah, I don’t think so, lots of people haven’t slept with me.” Starts to unpack all the gear from his bag before he says, “Hey, all that stuff—does it bother you?”

“What do you mean?” you answer, the corner of a protein bar stuck in your mouth. Namjoon always insists on recording at the most inconvenient times.

“People thinking we’re together,” he clarifies.

You shrug. “I dunno. Not really. Comes with the territory, I think, not to mention how much you love to overshare—”

“Hello?”

“I’m just saying,” you retort, hands raised in self-defense. “There really was no need for you to mention you blew your grad school stipend on a porn scam.” Namjoon looks affronted, like he can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to bring that up. “Or that you lost your virginity at fifteen.”

“We have a relationship podcast,” he states simply. “That’s kind of what we do, right? Talk about relationships? And the spectrum of human sexuality is part of that.”

You slump back in your chair as you quirk an eyebrow. “No one said it wasn’t, I just said you overshare. Which you do.”

“And that’s why there’s a dozen Reddit posts a week discussing whether or not we’re dating? Because I overshare?”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s the kind of behavior that leads to parasocial relationships. People latch onto that shit. Makes them think they’re your friend.” He glares. “Don’t give me that look, you know I’m right. It’s bad enough you’ve word-vomited all this highly personal information about yourself, but to not even do it under a pseudonym? It’s like you’re begging for trouble.”

Another comment he doesn’t even realize he’s making: “I don’t beg. For anything.”

To this day, you’re not sure why Namjoon asked you to co-host a podcast with him.

His reasoning had been simple: “You’re my best friend and we don’t agree on anything.” Hard to argue with that. Namjoon has seemingly endless patience, even in the face of things he shouldn’t entertain, and you… do not, to put it simply.

You’re not a cold person. Your fuse isn’t short. You’re just a little jaded, is all. Have far less propensity for bullshit than Namjoon does, so the two of you play well off each other. You end a sentence with a well-punctuated full stop and Namjoon’s right behind you to sigh and say maybe you shouldn’t be so hasty, not everything in the world can be so black or white.

Except some things are. Somewhere along the way, the podcast—which Namjoon had affectionately named Place Him Gently in the Garbage, even though some people should be shoved in there with force—had picked up a following. A big one. And now, every week, you’re inundated with emails ranging in severity. Sometimes people just want to vent after their tenth bad date in a row or share funny stories, and Namjoon lets you take the lead on those, but sometimes it’s a little more serious. That’s where Namjoon shines, all that endless patience, and people love him for it.

“What’s on the agenda today?” he asks, accepting a thick stack of papers from Jungkook.

Ah, Jungkook.

You aren’t sure what he actually does. Some kind of social media manager, which is obvious from the wildly out-of-context clips he posts of you to TikTok, and it’s his responsibility to go through the thousands of emails you get from listeners, but aside from that all you’ve got are your suspicions that he just sticks around to swindle Namjoon out of more and more money.

“I’m in a silly goofy mood,” comes Jungkook’s reply, and you let out a witch cackle as Namjoon winces. Nothing good ever comes of Jungkook being in a silly goofy mood, and that’s quite alright by you.

Fifteen minutes later finds you with a camera in your face that you greet with an unamused, flat stare. Jungkook is used to it by now. Just films for a few seconds before turning his attention to an unaware Namjoon. Head down, pen and highlighter going a mile a minute as he pores over the stack of papers with all the doggedness and eagle-eyed stare of a literature professor.

That’s the thing about Namjoon—he takes this really seriously. So do you, but not in the ways Namjoon does. He’s all skill and determination and you’re color commentary. It works. It clearly works, so you aren’t too bent out of shape about it, but sometimes you worry. Namjoon takes this really seriously and sometimes you worry that he takes it too seriously, that he carries the burdens and worries of all these strangers, that he’s trying to solve and fix things that aren’t his responsibility to solve and fix.

So he takes it really seriously and you don’t take it as seriously as you maybe should, and everything is by design. Balanced.

Twenty minutes later finds you staring across the table at Namjoon, who asks, “Are you ready?” and does one last equipment check before he launches into, “Welcome back to another episode of Place Him Gently in the Garbage with Namjoon and Piper. What’s new with you, Pipe? Any fun news?”

Pipe. It drives you nuts. Feels like nails on a chalkboard. “I see you almost every single day,” you respond dryly. “But for the sake of entertainment, I’m thinking about getting a cat.”

“A cat?” Namjoon parrots, and his eyebrows disappear beneath his fringe because he knows what that means.

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, but you’ve known him even longer.

Since your first year of college, which is also when you met Yoongi. Yoongi, your ex. Yoongi, the person you’d been with for six years and had planned a life around. Yoongi, now one of your closest friends, because the two of you still love one another but no longer in that way, which is fine. But also—Yoongi, allergic to cats.

So, yeah. Namjoon knows what that means, and he has the good sense not to mention it. Unlike him, you’re intensely private and keep your cards close to your chest. Your listeners don’t even know your real name, let alone that you’d gone through a breakup a year ago.

“What kind of cat?” he continues, like his entire world hasn’t just been turned upside-down.

You shrug. “Eh, I don’t know. Probably one that’s been in the shelter a long time, I guess. I’m not too fussy, you know?”

“Right, a cat is a cat,” Namjoon says, thinking he’s done something. You and Jungkook gasp at the same time. “What? Why are you giving me that look?”

“Because that’s a fucked up thing to say! A cat is not just a cat. They have little personalities, just like people. You’ve got—”

“But you just said you’re not fussy,” he interjects. “And I know they have personalities and that you have to find one that suits your lifestyle! Like, you can’t have one of those really cool cats that likes to go kayaking and shit, it’d never work—”

“What does that mean? Why couldn’t I have a cool cat?”

“Hey, all you cool cats and kittens,” Namjoon mocks, and you can tell he thinks he’s done something again, but his impression falls flatter than flat. An awkward silence fills the studio. He coughs. “Anyway. Do you have pictures?”

“Yeah. I also have a list of candidates ranked by how cool their names are. Number five, Casserole.”

“That’s cute.”

“Mhm,” you agree, “but Casserole is a kitten, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.”

“They do say you should adopt kittens in pairs.”

“And that’s how they get you. You want one kitten and they talk you into two, and before you know it you’ve got, like, twelve cats. Number four, Party Girl.”

“Sick name.”

“Number three, Toddler.”

“Toddler?”

“Number two, Flat.”

“Just Flat? Understandable.”

“And, finally, number one: Human Torch.”

“Yoooo.” Namjoon laughs. “You have to adopt Human Torch. Let me see.” You pull up a picture on your phone and hand it over. “Okay, for our listeners—Human Torch is a young, male Domestic Short Hair. He has stripes. I don’t know what that’s called.”

“Tabby,” Jungkook chimes in.

“Jungkook says he’s a tabby. He’s cute. Adopt him.”

You return your phone to your pocket. “Maybe. I still think I want an older cat, but I’ll consider it. What about you, though? Any new dating horror stories to share?”

Ah, the dating horror stories. Your most dedicated shippers are convinced they’re fake, that Namjoon just makes them up on the spot to keep them off your trail. If only. Not in the if only they were fake and Namjoon and I were actually dating kind of way, but the holy shit one of my closest friends is a fucking disaster and it’s a little embarrassing kind of way.

“Not really,” he answers. “I’ve got a date this Friday, though. Trying to decide if dinner and a movie is too boring.”

“It’s a classic for a reason. What are you gonna see, My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3?”

“Three?” Namjoon emphasizes, truly sounding scandalized. “Since when are there three? I haven’t even seen one or two.”

“Okay, first of all, the original is a classic and it’s a crime you haven’t seen it.”

“And second of all?”

“There is no second of all. Repeat point one.”

He snorts. “I’m not gonna see that, anyway. Maybe the re-release of Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“Subbed or dubbed, though?”

“Are you trying to get me canceled?”

“Absolutely.”

“I like both,” he chickens out. “Now, let’s stop wasting time and get to the point of the show.”

“Talking about cats is a waste of time?”

“I—no, we’ve just got a lot on the agenda today.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there’s lots to talk about on the celebrity front—”

Namjoon loves this part. As esteemed and educated as he is, not even he is immune to good old celebrity gossip. (Inside him there are two wolves.) Lives for it. Texts you about it at all hours of the night. Sends you links to Reddit threads with hundreds of comments. Has more opinions on Celebrity Big Brother than he does on Ludwig Wittgenstein, sometimes, and when that’s the case you know you’re in for a long evening. You’ve never even seen an episode of Celebrity Big Brother.

But Namjoon loves it, so you’ve become fond of it by association. Reminds you a bit of Yoongi and his love for sports and sports anime.

“—one should we start with?”

“Whatever you want,” you answer, because you haven’t been paying a lick of attention and you aren’t sure it matters anyway. Namjoon can talk to a wall on a good day, but he’s an entirely different beast once mundane, innocuous celeb gossip gets involved.

And even though you hadn’t been paying attention, it seems like this was the right thing to say, because Namjoon smiles so wide his dimples crater his face. “Cool. Let’s start with Taryn Manning. Did you see that bizarre—”

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who is Taryn Manning?”

Namjoon looks a little dumbstruck. Even Jungkook’s arching an eyebrow at you. “Are you serious? She was in Orange is the New Black and Crossroads.”

“The Britney Spears movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Weird, okay. Continue.”

Your co-host shoots you a very pointed look. “I will, thanks. Anyway, she posted a video on social media talking about this affair she had with a married man. Like, she pulled over on the side of the road to record this. Said she can’t stand the man’s wife because she called her a quote-unquote lunatic.”

“I—huh, thought we weren’t supposed to say that anymore. Alright.”

“But wait, it gets even more bizarre. Listen to this quote—and this is direct. This is a direct quote from the video, I can’t stop thinking about it: ‘Don’t you ever threaten me when your husband came to me to get his butthole licked.’ Can you—”

“What? Namjoon, what in the fuck—”

“It’s crazy, right? She was gonna buy this guy a boat.”

“Namjoon, this is a family show, you can’t just talk about ass-eating unprompted.”

“No it’s not.”

“Well, you still shouldn’t talk about ass-eating unprompted. It’s unbecoming.”

“You’re unbecoming,” Namjoon fires back, because he can’t help it. The words are out of his mouth before he can think. “Sorry, that was out of line.”

You sigh. Know whatever look Jungkook is catching on his camera right now is exasperated and pointed, the corners of your mouth probably tugged up just a hint. “Unbecoming, like I said.” Namjoon scoffs. “Anyway, so this actress was gonna buy this married guy a boat and was eating his ass?”

“Yeah. Apparently it was her friend’s husband? They all went to a Taylor Swift concert together.”

“Jesus, this keeps getting worse. Big year for Hollywood cheaters.”

“It is, right? Cheaters and divorces. Something in the water, I guess.”

“I saw the astrology girlies saying a bunch of planets are in retrograde, so—”

“Can you explain that to me? Like, what does it mean for a planet to be in retrograde? Why is it causing divorces?”

“I don’t know, I’m not an astrology girlie. That’s why I said the astrology girlies. What are your big three, though?”

“What’s that?”

“Your sun, moon, and rising signs.”

“How do I find that out?”

“Ugh,” you intone, “don’t worry about it, I’ll do it myself. What time were you born?”

Namjoon rattles off a time.

You grab your laptop. Pull up the page, type in Namjoon’s date of birth and birthplace, and wait. Then you’re staring at a circle with a bunch of lines in it that also don’t make a lick of sense to you. You roll your lips to keep from laughing and school your voice into something deadly serious. “Bad news: it says you’re a virgin.”

“Virgo,” Namjoon corrects, not taking the bait. “I already knew that.”

You scroll a little further down the page. “Your moon is in Sagittarius. Oh god, listen to this, they’ve got you pegged: ‘The greatest need is to always search for something. In order to feel safe you need a philosophy or belief’—”

“Haaa, that’s not—”

“—’You need to have a goal or mission that gives your life meaning. Your faith must be voluntary and it is a paradox that fighting against dogmas may lead you to other dogmas.’ Yeah, that’s you.”

“That could apply to anyone,” he argues. “There are seven-billion people on this planet; I’d imagine a sizable amount of them would say that also describes them.”

“Hm, sounds like your faith in astrology is not yet voluntary. Did you know you’re a Scorpio rising?”

“No. I’m sure you’re gonna tell me all about it, though.”

You smile. “Correct. ‘People with Scorpio on the Ascendant need to fight against dark and destructive power in their life.’ Is that true?”

“Yeah, you’re the dark and destructive power. You keep sidetracking me and we need to get to the point of the podcast.” He grabs the stack of papers Jungkook had given him. Looks more highlighter than paper, if you’re being honest. “I guess Jungkook thought we needed a lighthearted kind of day.”

“That was nice of him, considering what he gave us last week. I guess we’re allowed to have faith in humanity today.”

To your left, Jungkook scoffs.

“Alright,” Namjoon starts, putting on his Very Serious Podcast Guy voice, “first up we’ve got a question from one of our listeners in Canada. It says, ‘Hi, Piper and Namjoon. I recently agreed to go on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She said he was a bit old-fashioned but really talked him up so I thought I was in good hands—and then he showed up to get me in a ‘67 GTO and exclusively referred to me as doll. He didn’t use my name once. I’m torn, because he was really nice and I had a good time otherwise, but this is weird, right? Should I see him agai—’”

“No,” you interject.

“Can I finish?”

“You don’t have to. This guy sounds greasy.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “And why is that?”

“Ignoring the fact that this guy has arguably one of the lamest classic cars around, he didn’t use their name once? Not once, in all the time they spent together? That’s really disrespectful.”

“Some people are just pet name people,” Namjoon argues.

“With absolute strangers, though? It’s really giving the impression that he didn’t even know it, not to mention some people are uncomfortable with pet names. The whole shtick is super lame.”

“I agree it sounds a bit misguided, but—”

Ignoring Namjoon, you say, “Sorry you had to go on a date with the ghost of less-cool James Dean. Into the garbage he goes.”

And, just like he’s done a million times before, Namjoon rolls his eyes and says, “If you really like this guy and want to see him again, a bit of communication will go a long way. Tell him the pet name made you uncomfortable—if it did—and offer to pick him up for the next date. I don’t think he’s completely destined for the garbage, yet.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t have a license. You probably think a 1967 Pontiac GTO is the pinnacle of romance. That’s probably like picking someone up on a Specialized Aethos to you, eh?”

“That’s a fifteen-thousand dollar bike, I’ll have you know.”

You groan. “Oh my god.”

Ep: #183 - Namjoon is a Virgin

I think Namjoon had the right idea on this one. Sure, the car can be considered lame, but I think a lot of men are deeply insecure and therefore overcompensate when it comes to dating. Women are hard to impress when they have unlimited options. You have to stand out, so I’m glad he advocated for him. Piper can come off like such a misandrist sometimes. (-649) ↳ just shut up bro namjoon would fuckin hate u (+204) ↳ Imagine caring about something like this when they’re getting a cat together 🙄 (+19)

You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.

Adopting a cat is certainly not the worst idea you’ve ever had, and truth be told it’s been a little lonely, living by yourself. No more Yoongi in your space; no more Holly. So, having a new little friend around might do you some good.

It’s just—

It’s a big commitment, and there’s also the dog sitting-shaped elephant in the room. Ending things on good terms means you’re still Yoongi’s second-choice sitter whenever he has to go out of town, and while you love Holly dearly (the two of you had adopted him together, after all), he’s a lot like his father in a lot of ways.

Should I get a cat, you type out, and it’s only been in Yoongi’s inbox a few seconds before the most unflattering picture you’ve ever taken of him is flashing across your screen.

“Are you dying?” you ask, because Yoongi doesn’t call you for much else.

And you already know what his response is going to be. “We’re all dying.”

“Lighten up, Yoongi. One might say being so existentially nihilistic before noon causes wrinkles.”

There’s a split-second pause. “It’s nine p.m.”

“Sure, but it’s before tomorrow’s noon, so it still counts.”

“Whatever. Listen, before you adopt that cat, I need a favor.”

“You going out of town again?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be long, though. A week at the most, five days if I’m lucky.”

“That’s fine, bring him over whenever. Yijeong’s busy?”

This pause is far, far longer. “No,” comes Yoongi’s eventual response, but it’s slow. Unsure. A two-letter word has never taken so long to say in the history of ever. “He’s, uh. Coming with me?”

Oh, you think. This is where your ex awkwardly and hesitantly breaks the news of his new relationship. You’ve known this day was coming, and this is what you get for staying friends with him. “This is a fanfiction plot,” you accuse. “Hot, mysterious man moves into a gaudy apartment complex after ending a long-term relationship and meets his equally-hot and mysterious neighbor and they fall in love.”

“I—that’s not—my apartment is not gaudy.”

“Yes it is. There’s a giant gold bust of a weird bird in the lobby.”

“Weird bird?” he parrots. “It’s a swan.”

“I see you’re not denying the in-love-with-your-neighbor accusations.”

“Am I on trial?” Yoongi retorts, and it’s such a Yoongi thing to say when what he means is, is this okay? He means, are we able to talk about this without it being weird? He means, I won’t ever say as much out loud, but your acceptance means a lot to me, and I’d like for you to give me this.

So you lower your voice and soften the edges because it’s not really something to joke about, and you say, “No, of course you’re not on trial,” and Yoongi knows what you mean. “And if you were, you'd get locked up for fifty years. You can’t lie for shit.”

There’s a beat of silence before he clears his throat, mutters a thanks that is so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “Send me pictures of the cats.”

Later on, once you’re freshly-showered and tucked into bed with a candle and a book (Eloge de l’amour by Alain Badiou at Namjoon’s insistence and request), your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi—

Yoongi: toddler is a fucking hilarious name for a cat but so is flat Yoongi: it’s a tie for me You: Okay well pick one 🙄 Yoongi: yijeong says get both You: Both???? Is he paying my vet bills? Yoongi: kinda out of line to proposition him for money. flat is also good with dogs, js You: If he’s now being raised by you two, my perfect, well-behaved son is probably long gone. Does he even count as a dog anymore? Yoongi: me and yijeong both say fuck off Yoongi: holly too. he says he doesn’t miss you anymore and he’s not coming over now Yoongi has added Yijeong to the group Yoongi has changed the group name to #ThirdWheelChat Yijeong: Please don’t drag me into this. Also I did not say “fuck off” You have changed the group name to People Who Have Seen Yoongi Naked Yoongi: fuck you

You should’ve known something was going on with Jungkook, because it’d started like this:

(When you and Namjoon started the podcast three years ago, it was in the living room of his apartment.

Surrounded by books and plants. He loved to record in the afternoons back then—Namjoon loved to say it was because of his grad school schedule, but you’ve always suspected he just wanted to preen in the golden hour light, much like he’s doing now.

“Is this really necessary?” Jungkook whines from his spot on the couch. He’s already swindled Namjoon out of two bags of microwavable popcorn and three cans of sparkling water. “It’s a Saturday afternoon; I could be doing something so much more fun than this.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Are you saying this isn’t fun?”

“Yeah. It sucks, actually. This could’ve been an email.”

And because Namjoon is accomplished, mature, and absolutely incapable of not taking Jungkook’s bait, the space between his brows creases as he sends a murderous glare Jungkook’s way. “Stop eating my food, then. And drinking my drinks. And lounging on my couch like that—”

“I’m not lounging,” Jungkook argues.

“You’re manspreading all over the leather!”

“This is how I sit!”

“Well, knock it off! My couch is only for fun and people who think I’m fun!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “So you fuck on it?”

“What?”

“What other fun things could you possibly do on a couch?”

Namjoon blinks. “Watch… watch a movie?”

Jungkook groans, throws himself backwards against the pillows as if he’s suffering a Victorian ailment. “Jesus. No wonder you can’t score a second date.”

“Okay, that was a little uncalled for. There are a ton of reasons a person might not want a second date, and no one is obligated to go out with me—”

“Uh-huh. Anyway—”

You clear your throat. Try to hide your own can of seltzer you’d taken from Namjoon’s fridge in the midst of his and Jungkook’s bickering. “Not trying to be rude, but I have an appointment at the shelter at three. If, y’know. You wouldn’t mind speeding this up a little.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course—”

“Oh, so you’ll speed this up for her but not—”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “She,” he begins, jerking his thumb in your direction, “isn’t needlessly complaining and actually has someplace to be.”)

It was just a quick little rendezvous in Namjoon’s living room to come up with a rough draft for the following month’s episodes. He couldn’t do it over text because he’d fallen down the steps at his office and landed on his ass on the corner of a step and his phone had been in his back pocket. Cracked clean in half. And he couldn’t do it over email because he—rightfully—knew Jungkook would ignore them because he has his inbox set up to send all of Namjoon’s personal emails to the trash.

But Jungkook holds onto things like that. Grudges. Loves to let Namjoon think bygones are bygones and pop up a few days later with some evil scheme. Hence:

“What is this?”

Jungkook smirks. Rocks back on his heels. “It’s fanfiction.”

“I can see that, but… why?”

This is where Jungkook shines: the ominous, cheshire cat grin; the aw, shucks demeanor that gaslights Namjoon into thinking Jungkook couldn’t possibly be fucking with him. “Well, you were having trouble coming up with ideas for episodes, and there’s an email in there from someone whose partner reads really expli—”

“Jungkook, this is fanfiction about me.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. Of all the weird shit you’ve seen on the internet (and there’s been a lot), fanfiction of people you know—your friends—was something you’d managed to escape. Probably by virtue of not knowing anyone famous enough to warrant fanfiction being written about them.

But you should’ve known. You really, really should’ve known.

“Oh my god?”

You’re not sure who says it. Could be you or Namjoon, but the sentiment is the same. He mouths a what the fuck at you that’s met with a shrug. You’re in uncharted territory now, too. “Where did you even find this?” you ask, taking the stack of papers from Namjoon. “And why did you print it out?”

“Because I’m going to track down whoever wrote it and get them to autograph it. Then I’m going to buy a nice frame and hang it on the wall behind him, so we never forget this historical moment in Place Him Gently in the Garbage lore.”

“It’s a podcast,” Namjoon deadpans, “how can it have lore? And how much lore can there possibly be?”

“It’s the internet,” you concede. “The lore possibilities are endless. Don’t tempt them.”

Jungkook nods sagely, well-versed in the degeneracy of the internet. “Yeah, that’s how you end up with shit like 4chan.”

“4chan? There’s Space Jam porn on there.”

As the youngest, all Jungkook can do is roll his eyes. “Sometimes explaining this shit to you feels like trying to teach old people how to rotate PDFs—”

Namjoon scoffs. “I’m not that bad. I know how to rotate a PDF.”

Wow, Jungkook mouths. “Anyway, back to the fanfiction—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Namjoon interjects. He looks at you. “It’s weird, right? Like, it’s weird that people have written this about us?”

About us.

Your scope of the world narrows to the size of a pinhead. It’d just been about Namjoon before. This is fanfiction about me, he’d said, and you hadn’t been included in that. Now it’s written about us and you’re included.

“I—what?”

“It’s about us,” Namjoon repeats.

Jungkook rolls his lips. “It’s about the two of you fucking, to be specific.”

“Can you not—”

“Fucking a lot,” Jungkook continues. “So much fucking.”

Namjoon looks at you, and it’s all you can do to keep from laughing. The look on his face is pure bewilderment, both that Jungkook has cooked up this idea and is hell-bent on executing it and that he remains employed. And maybe it’s a little bit of nerves, too, because neither of you are ignorant of the risks. Reading fanfiction about yourselves—about the two of you as a couple, specifically, or at least two people who have sex—is weird. Not something you can unread.

And maybe it’s because you’re so determined to not make it weird that you send Namjoon a cheeky, exaggerated wink, shrug your shoulders, and say, “I’ll need a couple drinks, but I’m down.”

Jungkook throws his head back and cackles wildly, and that look of bewilderment on Namjoon’s face morphs into something else. Trepidation, maybe; definitely disbelief, because sometimes he lets himself get swept away in Jungkook’s schemes, but it’s rare that you follow suit.

As Jungkook continues to laugh, you wonder if you should’ve said no.

Namjoon has two stipulations: the two of you have to film the episode completely alone, and he, too, needs to be a little drunk.

The latter? Piece of cake, considering Namjoon has become some sort of whiskey aficionado in recent years. His drinking is streamlined and to the point—he knows exactly how much and what to drink to get him where he wants to be. You can’t say he isn’t efficient.

The former, though? Borderline impossible. From the second Namjoon states his terms, Jungkook is having none of it. Argues that he’s the one who found the story and the one who cleared it with the author, so he deserves to witness the fruits of his labor.

“No,” Namjoon repeats for the nth time, “no way. I’ll barely be able to do this with just her, let alone both of you.”

And that—that doesn’t bother you, right? You force a laugh, because why would it bother you?

There are few secrets between you and Namjoon, except your respective sex lives have been staunchly off-limits. Namjoon could be a virgin for all you know, and as you study him—the way he keeps bobbing his leg, the slight shake in his hands—you wonder if that’s the reason he’s being so weird about this.

It’s just a story.

Fiction.

Most people don’t have to worry about someone writing stories about them fucking their friends. If they do, you reckon even less actually read them. So, sure, it’s a little strange, but people from all over the world send in stranger stuff all the time, don’t they? It’s literally the reason you’re in this predicament.

Eventually Jungkook agrees. His whining has gotten him nowhere, so he just throws up his hands. Posts a cryptic little “u guys won’t believe what the next patreon ep is lmao” that sends the internet into a frenzy. Doubles your Patreon numbers almost immediately, and both you and Namjoon do a good job of pretending the pressure isn’t overwhelming.

Jesus. You have to read explicit fanfiction about yourselves. On camera.

Namjoon gets caught up with work and isn’t available until the weekend, so you’re forced to sit with the nerves for a few days. Not too bad at first, but you’re nearly coming out of your skin by Thursday with the need to know. You’re well-versed in the world of fanfiction, but this is fanfiction about you: your name, your likeness, maybe even your personality.

What will they know of Namjoon, though?

Will they get it right, the way he looks with his jaw clenched? How impossibly deep his voice can go, both when it’s raspy with sleep and when he’s fully at ease? Will the Namjoon in the story be closer to the Namjoon you know, or the version of himself he presents to the public?

And you’ve known him a long time—long enough that there are few secrets between you, but you don’t know the most intimate parts. All the parts the internet loves to speculate on. All the little gaps that, apparently, need to be filled in by fanfiction.

Will they know what Namjoon looks like when he gets off?

No, you scold yourself, jerking awkwardly like you’ve been burned, and neither will you.

Because you are not going to think about this. Your thoughts are not going to go there. Namjoon is your friend, and you’ve listened to him scold an endless amount of men on the podcast for exactly this behavior. Sexualizing their friends. You’re not going to do it, too.

Maybe that’s why you’re kind of seeing double when it comes time to record. Namjoon needed an extra shot and offered you one as well. You’d necked it without a second thought and now you’re here, trying to ignore the slight tilt of the room as Namjoon adjusts the camera.

“How’s the shot look?” he asks, gesturing vaguely behind him at his laptop screen because Jungkook had refused to lend you his fancy cameras if he wasn’t allowed to be involved.

It’s a completely normal question.

It’s a question you’ve asked and answered a million times.

Except—there’s something horribly distracting about Namjoon in this moment. The outline of his back muscles through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The way the sleeves are tight around his biceps. He’s always been a gym rat, always carries around a protein shake that smells and looks completely foul, but you can’t remember it ever being this obvious.

And you take too long to answer, because Namjoon straightens up just enough to send you a concerned look. Which does not help. You are not imagining what else might cause his brows to pinch like that, what might have his lips parting, have sweat dotting his hairline.

You swallow. Hard.

“Looks fine,” you manage to say. He’s still staring. Are you on fire? You feel like you’re on fire, which would make sense. Would explain Namjoon’s sweating and concerned stare and the fact that he cannot stop staring at you. “Maybe a tiny bit to the right if we’re being picky,” you tack on, hoping it’ll break whatever spell the two of you are ensnared in.

It works. “To the—the right, yeah, makes sense,” he rambles.

He moves it an inch to the left.

—

Things are tense, to say the least.

Recording hasn’t been this awkward since your first episode, or maybe ever. You’re sat across from one another like you always are, and usually Namjoon would be making quip after quip by now, talking endlessly until Jungkook shushed him long enough to get the intro filmed. Now, there’s just silence.

“Should we…?” Namjoon startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table and drops a string of curses. “Sorry, are you—”

“I’m fine,” he says, cutting you off. He gestures vaguely toward the camera. “I’ll just… yeah.”

Showtime.

You wipe your hands on your jeans, unsure of when they got so damp. Unsure of when you’d grown so nervous, too, because you’d been fine an hour ago. Had strolled in with two cups of tea and a little too much confidence, giddy at what you were about to do.

Maybe the nerves had shown up alongside the alcohol. This sounds reasonable, and you do not, under any circumstance or for any reason, think about Namjoon’s back. Or his biceps.

Namjoon makes it through the intro, dimples deep and wide as he smiles, and you also don’t think about the way his voice cracks and gets a little breathy when he introduces you. It’s only because he’d been drinking, and the flush on his cheeks attests to that. The same flush that creeps down his neck, still a little sweaty; disappears beneath the hemline of his shirt.

“—Jungkook had. Right, Piper?”

Now it’s your turn to startle, and there’s not much you can do to hide the obvious except ask Namjoon to redo the shot. Because it’s bad enough the internet already overanalyzes every move you make, every word choice, every instance you’ve stared at Namjoon a second longer than they thought you would—this is a blatant display of… affectedness.

“Sorry,” you say, “I wasn't paying attention. Can we redo it?”

You’re expecting a playful scolding. A ha ha, get it together, because that’s what you usually get. But there’s nothing aside from Namjoon studying you and nodding. Asking if you’re okay. Saying, “Is this—this is weird, right? Is it too weird? Maybe we shouldn’t—”

An out. Namjoon is giving you an out, and you should take it, you know you should take it, so there’s absolutely no reason at all you shake your head and say, “No, no, it’s fine! I think I’m just a little, uh. Drunk?”

“Are you sure? We can—”

“It’s fine, Joon,” you insist. “Besides, it’ll be good content, right?”

“Good content,” he parrots. “Yeah, for sure.” He fidgets in his seat, runs his hands down the span of his thighs. Very, very thick thighs. “I’ll grab us some water.”

You faceplant onto the table as soon as he’s out of the room. When did his thighs get so thick?

But the water helps. Cures whatever strange, insatiable thirst has come over you, because you feel much more human after a few glasses. Less drunk, too, which makes sense. Yoongi could barely escape your drunken, horny wrath when the two of you were together, so you chalk it up to a Pavlovian response.

Namjoon does the intro again. Introduces you strong and steady, not a hint of nerves, and explains, with a fresh blush taking over his upper body, what the episode’s going to be about. “Someone wrote fanfiction about us,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s, uh, pretty explicit. Jungkook thought it’d be funny if we read it.”

You snort. “He might get fired, depending on how this goes.”

“He should get fired regardless,” Namjoon deadpans. “Anyway, we have permission from the author to read this so don’t come after us, and, as always, we’ll put all the credits in the video description.”

“Special shoutout to Jungkook, though, who was not allowed to be here with us for this momentous occasion.”

Namjoon laughs. “I’m sure he’s having plenty of fun at home.” You both pause. “That’s not—I’m not implying anything with that! I just meant—you know, like. He’s hanging out and enjoying his day off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Moving on. I have two copies of this. Do you want your own?”

You grin, wicked and wide. “Nah, just read it to me.”

“Making me do all the work,” he huffs. “Typical.”

“There’s a stack of papers in front of you that might say otherwise.”

It’s clear you catch him off-guard. He cocks an eyebrow, opens and shuts his mouth a few times like a goldfish. An obvious question sits on the tip of his tongue: You think you’d be in charge? Instead he coughs, jerks his head to the side, and says, “I guess we’ll see.”

It sounds like a challenge.

Thirty seconds is all you get before Namjoon’s shuffling his stack of papers and clearing his throat. Asking if you’re ready and jumping right into it once you say you are. Reads the first few lines like they’re some old lecture notes, and they’re conservative and safe-for-work enough that you start to relax.

And then Namjoon reads, “A louder one wonders if Namjoon is a pet name person—if he’d call her ‘honey,’ or ‘gummy bear,’ ‘babe,’ or ‘baby,’” and you choke.

“Gummy bear?”

Namjoon laughs along with you—the weird one that almost sounds like a dog panting. “You want me to call you gummy bear?”

“I want you to call me a Lyft,” you snark. “I’m leaving.”

He continues:

And that’s how it starts, wandering thoughts, wandering fingers—the first time Piper comes to the thought of Namjoon calling her baby, pushing inside her, showing her that he definitely doesn’t beg, but she does… Well, she’s a little ashamed. She’s apparently got a reputation to maintain, anyway, not to mention a friendship.

His eyes leave the paper and lock onto you. “Or maybe you’d prefer baby?”

“Fuck off.”

Weeks after that first time, it’s become a habit, thinking about Namjoon as something more than a friend. It’s confusing and a little mortifying and it’s starting to affect her in ways she hadn’t expected. When they record, she feels fidgety—she’s jumpy when he gets close, has all the stupid obvious tells of an unwanted crush: her breath hitches when he whispers (why the fuck is he whispering in her ear, anyway? Doesn’t he know what that does to a person?) inside jokes to her so Jungkook can’t hear, her heart rate spikes when their fingers accidentally brush, she feels itchy and hot and a little embarrassed whenever he holds eye contact with her. It’s terrible, and it’s only made worse by the way he’s doing all of those things more than usual. Or, at least she thinks he is, thinks she’s not imagining the way his eyes linger on her more than she can remember happening before or the way she’s caught him staring at her lips when she chews on the end of her pencil mindlessly. 

You’ve completely forgotten how to breathe.

Namjoon’s staring again. You need to salvage this. He’s only on paragraph three and you’re already squirming in your chair and imagining things that are not appropriate. So you roll your lips, return his teasing. “Well? Do you stare at my lips?”

It works. “No,” he scowls.

“You sure?” you joke, morphing your face into something half-pout, half-duck face.

“We’re never gonna finish this if you keep making comments.”

“You started it,” you point out. “Go on, then.”

There’s some dialogue. Some prose that hits way too close to home, has you wondering who on earth wrote this and how they plucked every single thought from deep within your psyche. A pang of fear that maybe you haven’t been as subtle as you’d thought all these years. A moment to confirm to yourself that, no, you haven’t been harboring a secret, deeply-buried crush on Namjoon.

Then he reads—

And then he kisses her. It’s greedy and hot, his lips like a branding iron. She moans a little against her better judgment when he licks at the seam of her mouth, and in return, she can feel Namjoon’s lips curve into a smile against her own. It’s better than she’d been imagining it, really. He’s a good kisser—firm at the right times, soft when she needs it, careful but not cautious. He holds her jaw with one hand and keeps her right where he wants her beneath him (as if she’d want to move, anyway).  When their lips finally part, he rests his forehead on hers. It’s intimate in a way she hadn’t expected, and he looks at her as if she’s the answer to every question. Finally, he whispers, “What’re we doing, Piper?” His lips are still wet and pink and a little swollen from kissing, and she barely hears the question—she’s too busy thinking about kissing him again, about pulling his plump bottom lip between her teeth, teasing and…  “Kissing,” she says finally.  “What do you want?” he asks, sinking to his knees in front of her. And if that alone isn’t an answer to his question… “Whatever you’re willing to give,” she replies. It feels like she’s wanted this forever, this and so much more. Once she got the idea in her head, it’s hard to know if she ever felt differently, ever truly thought they could just be friends. Or, if in the back of her mind, in the dark corners that she never lets see daylight, she always knew she wanted Namjoon. Always knew she loved him.

—and everything goes right out the fucking window.

Namjoon sits with those words for a moment. Scans the paper in his hands and frowns a little when he confirms what you already know. “The rest is, uh. Porn.”

“That is why we’re here.”

“Last chance to back out.”

“I’m not scared,” you lie. “Are you? You’re the one who keeps stalling.”

He huffs. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he retorts, and then nothing is all that funny anymore.

Because Namjoon was right: the rest is straight-up porn. He’s barely able to read the part where he goes down on you with a straight face, turning a deep shade of crimson. Stutters through the part where you pull his hair, and that is not something you needed to know about your friend. You think he loses his grasp of language entirely when he reads, “When he slides a long finger into her and brushes past her most sensitive spot, she arches into him and lets his name fall from her lips in a soft cry. Piper, notorious skeptic, is a babbling, trembling mess as she gets closer to her orgasm,” because all the words are garbled together, producing nothing but gibberish. You think he’s ready to keel over and die when he reads, “Namjoon pulls away briefly, lips slick with her juices, and licks over his top one, pausing to tell her how good she tastes before he dives back in.”

“That was nice of them to include. I appreciate their attention to detail in regards to my personal hygiene.”

“This is so embarrassing,” he whines.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Gimme. I’ll finish it.” He hands over the papers immediately.

Except you regret it immediately. The words you’re staring at are not words you ever thought you’d read or recite in your entire life. Not even for a million dollars. “Oh,” you say instead.

“See? Not as easy as it looks.”

“This is really embarrassing,” you confirm. “I might need another shot.”

“Y-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.”

Namjoon staggers forward obligingly, looks completely fucked out and pliant, willing to do whatever she asks. She remembers the sounds he made when she pulled his hair, wonders if he likes being bossed around, if he wants her to tell him what to do, to be a little mean to him. Maybe it’s different from her dreams, maybe he will beg her. She wants him so badly, she’d do anything for him. So, she pulls his briefs down to expose his absurdly large member, already mostly hard, and slaps it. Gently at first to see how he’ll react, and when he shudders and jerks his hips, she does it again, a little harder. “Look at you,” she whispers, “such a needy boy.”  He whimpers at that, eyes pleading. “Please, Piper…” he whines.   “Please what?” “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. She wants to, wants him so much, wants to feel him stretch her open, and from the looks of his cock, thick and long and drooling with precum, he could. “Should I?” she asks. She musters all her confidence to keep the condescending tone up. It feels wrong given how desperate she is to get him inside her, but it also seems to be getting him worked up and equally as desperate. “Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”  Namjoon’s cock twitches, and he begs, “I—I’ll fuck you so good, Piper…. I know how, I promise. Just… please?”

“Oh my god,” the two of you say in unison.

You so badly want to ask if this is biographical. How Namjoon feels about a little degradation; what he’d do if someone actually called his cock stupid. Ifsomeone has called his cock stupid. You dare a glance at him and conclude that someone’s had to. Namjoon just has that kind of energy.

But you can’t ask because it’d be weird, so you keep reading.

“How do you want me?” she asks softly when their lips part. There’s a wild look in his eyes, like he’s processing all the possible options out of everything he’s considered. And then it occurs to her. “Have you imagined this before? Thought about how you’d fuck me?” she teases him as she stands, stepping into him. Piper pushes one hand through his hair, brushing it back off of his forehead and wraps her other around his dick, squeezing a little for emphasis on her words. “Yes,” he groans as she strokes him, thumbing at the head of his cock. “Tell me what you want, then. Want me on all fours for you? Want me to show you how it’s done, to let you lay back and ride you so you don’t have to put in any work?” Namjoon’s breathing is getting heavy, pupils blown wider with each suggestion. 

“I told you!” you shriek, laughing in between the words. “I told you I’d…” And then your gloating tapers off, because what happens next has your brain malfunctioning.

“All of that,” he whines as she lets go of his hair and brings her hand down to run a fingertip over his perineum. “Want all of that. Want to bend you over the table and fuck you right here. Hear your sounds in the microphone.” Even in her dirtiest thoughts about him, she hadn’t considered the microphone, hadn’t considered recording it. When she thinks about it though, it makes sense. Namjoon is exactly the kind of person that would get off to someone’s voice. So, she does. She makes a show of turning around and slowly bending over the table, sliding her upper body across it carefully until she can reach her microphone and turn it on. When she says into it, “What’re you waiting for?” she sees over her shoulder the way that Namjoon shivers.

This is… not good. You’re never going to be able to look at a microphone the same way, which is extremely not good for a person who supplements their income with a very popular podcast that requires them to speak into a microphone for extended periods of time.

This is very, very bad.

Namjoon must be thinking the same, because he lets out a strangled a-haaa that’s less of a laugh and more a plea to God, the gods, the entire gamut of higher powers that might be able to save him. No one’s going to, you think, staring down at the paper again. This godless piece of fanfiction will be preserved on the internet forever, will be seared into your mind forever, and no amount of praying is going to erase it.

“I should, uh. Just read the rest, yeah? Get it over with?”

“Mhm. Yep. Yes, please.”

Don’t say please, you almost say. You can’t take it; not after what you’ve just read.

So you put on a show. Steel your expression and your nerves and take it seriously. Use voices and sound effects and desperately try to stave off the awkwardness you know is inevitable because a smut fic is probably only going to end one way, and that’s with you acting out Namjoon having an orgasm.

Maybe you’ll have another one, too, if the author is nice.

It’s sweet, she thinks, the way he’s easy for her, takes his time with her. Strokes his fingertips along her sides and kisses the back of her neck reverently. As much as she loves it, part of her hopes he’s not always like this—hopes he’ll give as good as he takes, hopes he’ll put her in her place. She can feel his cock hard against the cleft of her ass, not even inside her yet, and still, she thinks about next time and the time after that. “Still okay?” He breathes into her ear as his tip rubs against her cunt.  “Yeah—want you, Joon.”  “Never thought I’d hear you say those words.”  “I never thought you’d record them,” she teases, eyes glancing up to the flashing light showing the mic picking up all of this as he starts his slow slide into her.  Piper falls even further forward when he bottoms out, letting her forehead rest on the table. He’s whispering filth in her ear, about how he has something to prove, how she’ll never want anyone after this, how no one can fuck her the way he does.  She hates that he’s right.  Each stroke brings a new sensation: sparklers, butterflies, nerve endings on fire as he fucks into her and licks and sucks at her neck, her shoulders, her ear. Piper can’t even think, and this is what people mean when they talk about being fucked stupid, she decides.  It’s perfect.  Every time she thinks she’s getting close again, he changes something: fucks her a little shallower, moves his hips just a little, slows down, speeds up… It’s driving her crazy.  “Come on,” she whines. “I’m so close…” At least she can tell he is, too. No longer able to sustain the dirty talk, he’s breathing heavily, letting out broken moans and sighs of her name. He’s moving rhythmically now, thrusts consistently faster.  “Oh, fuck, Piper,” he groans, “Gonna cum.” One of his hands finds her clit and he rubs careful circles over her, bringing her to her peak along with him, no more teasing.  When she comes, it’s with a loud moan into the studio mic, and that seems to be what tips Namjoon over the edge, too. His hips stutter into hers as he comes, her cunt clenching around him for what feels like forever.

You deserve an award, you think. An Oscar. You didn’t even groan when you had to read the word “cunt,” and that’s a feat in and of itself.

“Is it over?” Namjoon asks, words muffled by the hands covering his face.

“Not quite,” you answer. “There’s some aftercare, and at the end you ask if I’ll piss on you.”

Namjoon gags. “I asked you what—”

“Today’s episode has been brought to you by Stamps-dot-com—”

HOLY SHIT THE NEW PATREON EPISODE???????? Posted by u/pod-shipper 4 minutes ago NO WAY. NOOOOOOO FUCKING WAY DUDE THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY THEY DID THIS AS AN ACTUAL EPISODE WHAT THE FUCK WHAT HTE FUCK WHAT EHTU FKF DFGLKDG;L (+705) I wasn’t sure if they were messing around before, and I was quite critical of the “shippers,” but now I’m pretty convinced. (+423) ↳ we’ve been telling y’all for YEARS 😤 (+197) ↳ Glad you’ve seen the light, u/RandomAcorn2058! (+5) ↳ ugh. they weren’t messing around before and they aren’t messing around now. do you guys not listen to what they say? namjoon’s been dating, and piper got out of a six-year relationship just over a year ago. if they’ve had something going on for “years” that means they’re both cheaters, and that’s a really shitty thing to assume about them. not to mention it makes the entire point of the podcast moot. (-63) Why do you guys think Jungkook “wasn’t allowed” to be there? (+314) ↳ So they could fuck lmao it’s so obvious (+329) ↳ because it’s awkward af? would you wanna read porn about yourself w all your coworkers in the room? (+2) ↳ the “it’s awkward” excuse is sooooo lame he’s the one who found it and is the one who edited the episode, he’s gonna see it regardless. (+15) ↳ Tbh I’m more curious about how he even found it to begin with? Do they have a throuple thing going on? Like, why was he looking for smut fic about his bosses? (+38)

You do not get through recording unscathed.

You are very scathed. Perhaps the most scathed a person has ever been.

Jungkook texts the group chat sporadically throughout the week, cracking jokes and making memes at your and Namjoon’s expense which is par for the course and shouldn’t have you off-kilter, but something inside you feels deeply wrong. Feels like someone’s given you devastating news; feels like it used to back in uni when you knew you’d failed an exam and were just waiting to see how badly.

It both helps and doesn’t that the internet is so invested. All the clips Jungkook keeps posting have re-doubled your Patreon numbers, and jumping up a tax bracket never hurt anyone, you included. But all of those jokes and memes largely went unanswered by both you and Namjoon, still too close to the incident to find the humor in it from the other side.

The two of you had sex.

Not literally, of course, but you figure you might as well have with the way you’re feeling. The way you’re avoiding one another. Someone wrote a story about the two of you having sex and you both read it and something about that, days later, feels really fucking unsettling.

In a bad way? You aren’t sure. It’s not like you’re mad or upset or any other synonym. You just feel… off. Itchy from the inside out, and that’s far from the norm in your and Namjoon’s friendship. In all the years you’ve known one another, you’ve never once avoided each other, including the time you’d set him up with a close friend and he showed up 45 minutes late to their date and ghosted after.

(Unsurprisingly, that friendship had not lasted.)

Maybe it’s because Yoongi had always been there as a buffer. You aren’t of the belief that men and women cannot be platonic friends, but being in a years-long committed relationship nixed a lot of awkward interactions and assumptions off the bat. Even Namjoon had known Yoongi first. Had introduced himself to you in your shared 100-level psych course with a, “Hey, you’re Min Yoongi’s girlfriend, right?” because they ran in the same underground circles and Namjoon had idolized him from afar for years.

Pretty fucked up, then, that Yoongi’s off in Los Angeles with his hot new boyfriend and you’re on your couch, Holly at your feet, pointedly ignoring your texts.

“I’m gonna get a cat,” you say to the dog, trying to redirect his attention when he starts chewing on your sock again. Holly doesn’t offer any input, of course, and he’s a lot like his father in that way. “I can’t believe you have a stepfather. You’re a proper child of divorce now, Min Holly.”

There are a pile of unread texts you continue to ignore in lieu of showing Holly pictures of adoptable cats. A few more memes from Jungkook, one from Namjoon’s new phone asking to move the recording date a few days because “something came up at work,” one from the food delivery service you admittedly use too much offering 10% off your next order, and two from Yoongi. This reminded me of you, the first one says beneath a picture of an ice cream cone on the ground, and another one of him holding a water gun that says send me a picture of my son or else.

You eventually reply back with a picture of your middle finger, Holly nothing but a blurred brown blob in the corner of the frame.

That’s how it goes for the better part of a week. Namjoon’s work issue lasts four days. He doesn’t offer an explanation and you don’t ask for one, you just wait for the all-clear text and try to quiet the nerves once you get it.

You’ve never been nervous to see Namjoon before.

The more popular the podcast became, the more money rolled in. The more money that rolled in, the more you could afford nicer things. That meant going from recording in Namjoon’s living room to a bona fide office space. Third floor, an expanse of windows and natural light, thirty-five minute commute by train.

Today, it feels more like thirty-five seconds.

You can hear Jungkook’s witch cackle from the stairwell, and your mind fills in the blanks of Namjoon’s exasperated sigh. It helps, your brain reminding you that you know these people. You know this is Jungkook’s late gym day, so he’ll be in a pair of sweats and a hoodie that drowns his frame. You know that when Namjoon has work issues and feels like an inconvenience, he always shows up with two boxes of baked goods from the bakery near his place, and you know both of them will save the best donut for you.

So you walk in and Jungkook’s in a hoodie and sweats just like you expect him to be, and there are two boxes of baked goods next to the coffee machine. Both of them say hello and wave and, for all intents and purposes, everything is normal.

Except it isn’t.

Because Namjoon looks… different.

Not in a bad way. Not in a bad way. He almost always dresses nicely, always looks polished and put-together, usually because he’s either going to or coming from campus—fitted shirts, either of the tee or dress variety, and earth-toned cardigans; tailored trousers that are sometimes corduroy; polished loafers. Sometimes, if he’s feeling extra casual, a stark white pair of tennis shoes.

Today, he wears none of those things.

No, today torture comes in the form of form-fitting jeans and a t-shirt a little oversized so he can roll the sleeves. His hair is brushed back off his face instead of parted down the middle. He’s wearing gold jewelry that glints in the sun. A pair of off-white Converse high-tops. And, much to your horror, he’s also wearing his glasses.

According to the internet, Kim Namjoon is peak husband material, which you can usually ignore, but not when he’s wearing glasses.

You avert your gaze, convinced you’ll burst into flames if you stare too long, not to mention Jungkook will notice and that’s a ribbing you’d rather die than take. So you avert your gaze and pointedly ignore Namjoon, who’s talking about his work crisis to no one in particular. Something about a co-worker going on an unexpectedly early paternity leave, and Namjoon being asked to cover some of his courses until they could find a more permanent fix.

Jungkook asks a question you don’t catch. Because paternity leave means his co-worker and his partner had a baby, presumably via old-fashioned methods, and it’s not a direct mention of sex but it’s close enough to send you into a coughing fit you have to blame on your donut. Neither of them buy it, but Namjoon is a good enough person to look genuinely concerned. Reaches out, probably to slap your back, but the thought of him touching you is just… too much.

So he barely gets out an, “Are you o—” before you choke down whatever’s left in your mouth and cut him off with a, “Yep, all good!” before you’re scurrying off to the opposite side of the room like a little rat.

It doesn’t get any better.

Both of you are so stilted and awkward during recording that Jungkook has to be the voice of reason and call it, suggest trying again tomorrow. Luckily he has enough b-side stuff he can release if need be, Namjoon’s work emergency providing a decent cover, and he sends the two of you home for the afternoon with all the exasperation and incredulity of a disappointed parent.

Thirty-five minutes back home.

Thirty-five minutes to sit in the embarrassment of not being able to do your job. Thirty-five minutes to catastrophize and wonder what you’re going to do if you can’t get it together. Namjoon will keep the podcast, of course; you’ll be replaced with someone else. Maybe someone less cynical, maybe someone more, but undoubtedly a man. After this mess, you can’t imagine Namjoon would want another female co-host.

But as embarrassed as you are, your traitorous brain keeps thinking about Namjoon.

Thirty-five minutes to think about his glasses and his rolled-up sleeves and the way the denim of his jeans contoured perfectly to his thighs. Thirty-five minutes to think about, “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. Thirty-five minutes to squeeze your thighs together and overanalyze the way he stumbled over his words today; how he could barely make eye contact. Thirty-five minutes to draft a dozen resignation texts and delete them all.

You groan, head thunking against the train window. You’ll take a cold shower as soon as you get home.

That’ll cure you.

You get home and walk Holly so long he gives up halfway through and you have to carry him back to your apartment. You take a cold shower and actually find it pleasant once the initial shock wears off, so it doesn’t work to keep all your rogue Namjoon thoughts at bay. You make a simple dinner and don’t think about Namjoon sitting you on the counter and having his way with you. You tuck yourself into bed far too early and consider going back to therapy, because clearly something very, very bad has happened to your psyche.

Needless to say, nothing cures you.

But it’s a new day, and you’re determined to get your shit together. Yesterday was a fluke, because you’re so normal and so capable of being in the same room as Kim Namjoon.

Except—you’re not.

Jungkook’s there when you arrive, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Barely looks up at you to say hello, and barely returns it when you do. You double-check the time, because you can count on two fingers the amount of times you’ve shown up and Namjoon wasn’t already there, jotting down extensively-detailed notes, circling and highlighting and chasing down Jungkook to ask questions.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Dunno. Not here.”

You roll your eyes. “Super helpful, thanks.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes right back. “You don’t pay me enough to also be his handler.”

You bite your tongue. Arguing with Jungkook means you’ve already lost the war. Not worth it. But it still eases your worries a bit that he doesn’t know any more than you do. That Namjoon hadn’t only texted him to say why he was running late because he didn’t want to—or couldn’t—talk to you.

So you wait. And you wait and you wait and you wait. Jungkook lets you talk to people on his dating apps and tells you about his new gym routine until your eyes are glazing over. Orders food delivery for the two of you because he gets hungry after an hour and had already eaten what was left of the snacks before you arrived. Cracks a joke that isn’t really a joke about calling the police, because Namjoon still hasn’t shown up and he hasn’t said anything and none of your texts are showing as delivered.

You’re halfway to hour two when the office door bursts open and Namjoon stumbles through, soaked with sweat and stammering over apologies.

“I am so sor—I broke my phone again so my alarm never went off and then I missed my bus? And apparently they’re not running the regular bus schedule today so the next one was a half-hour wait, but then I…”

You don’t catch the rest, because Namjoon is covered in sweat and breathing heavily and a week ago you could’ve survived this. A week ago you would’ve cracked a joke and handed him a towel and told him to get to work. A week ago you would not have been paralyzed in your seat, transfixed on the sweat rolling down the side of his neck.

You are fucked beyond belief.

Jungkook elbows you in the ribs, bringing you back to reality. “...even paying attention?” You startle, face warming in embarrassment. Namjoon still isn’t looking at you. “This is so sad to watch,” Jungkook mumbles, and thankfully it’s only loud enough for you to hear. “Like some stupid shit you only see in nature documentaries.”

Well, you can’t really argue with that, now can you?

But you’re a professional above all, so you hum an acknowledgment and take your regular seat. Pointedly ignore Jungkook. Wait for Namjoon to assume his position as well, and you’re surprised to see the space in front of him empty. No notes. No script. There’s just… nothing.

“Are you okay?” you ask, gesturing to the space in front of him when he seems confused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a stack of notes in front of you.”

“I forgot them.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that, either.”

Your tone is light and airy, not at all accusing or confrontational, but Namjoon’s jaw clenches nonetheless. He scoffs, fires a shitty little, “Were you not paying attention when I was talking about what a horrible fucking morning I’ve had?” at you that makes even Jungkook flinch. A few moments of stunned silence, and then, “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, that was rude—”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, and all of a sudden you feel too big for your body. Feel like there are ants beneath your skin, feel like everything is wrong, and you don’t want to be here anymore. “It’s fine. Let’s just—”

Namjoon looks like he wants to argue, but he just sighs and says, “I—yeah, okay.”

This is where Namjoon would usually launch into the intro, a dimpled smile already plastered on his face that’d drop as he discussed another failed first date with that brand of self-deprecation that makes him so endearing. This is where he’d say what have you been up to, Pipe, and you’d try not to groan because how hard could it possibly be to add one more letter, another syllable, but Namjoon seems incapable of it. This is the part that, for three years, has been seamless and easy and instinctual, just two friends having a conversation.

There’s a red light on your microphones that indicates you’re recording. It’s on and it mocks you, because Namjoon is not doing the intro or telling you about a failed date. He doesn’t use that cringey nickname. He doesn’t say anything at all. His mouth opens and shuts and no words come out. What’s worse is that you know exactly why he can’t speak, because you’re thinking about it, too.

“So, uh,” you begin, and Jungkook makes a gagging sound from behind you. “Come here often?”

Namjoon ignores you. “Right, right, the intro…” He sucks in a breath. “Welcome back to another episode of Put Him in the Trash, I’m—”

“Joon—”

“Namjoon, and my co-host here is—”

“Joon, that’s not—”

“Piper. Wait, why are you looking at me like that?”

“That’s not the name of our podcast.”

“Huh?”

“You said Put Him in the Trash.” Namjoon just blinks. “It’s Place Him Gently in the Garbage.”

“Is it? Since when?”

“Since forever?”

He looks at Jungkook, who is hiding behind his hands. “Is she right?”

A beat of silence. “I can’t do this,” he half-shouts, half-whines. “Are you two going to be like this forever? Because if you are, I’m quitting. I’m so serious. I’m gonna quit. I can’t take it anymore. The two of you are insufferable.” Another beat of silence, before Jungkook stands at full height and lords over you and Namjoon. “Forget today. Just go home and try again on Monday. This is so—I’m seriously gonna quit.”

Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.

Yijeong isn’t with him, which is almost disappointing. Now that he’s dating again, you were looking forward to seeing just how awkward it could get with the three of you in the same room, but he looks good. Refreshed. The trip clearly did a world of good for him, and you can’t even bring yourself to crack a joke at his expense.

He, however, has no such hang-ups. “You look like shit.”

“Weird way to say thank you.” You click your tongue and look down at Holly. “Do you see how your father treats me? You should bite him.”

“My son would never. But also, thank you.” He flops onto the sofa. “You do look like shit, though. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not with you, preferably.”

“Oh, gross, is it a dating thing, then?”

“I—no.” You pause. It’s not a dating thing, but you still feel like you’ve got motion sickness whenever you think about it. How would you even begin to explain this to Yoongi, anyway? Someone wrote a porn fic about me and Namjoon. You remember Namjoon, right? Namjoon, that I’ve known and have been friends with since college. Yeah, that Namjoon. Anyway, someone wrote fanfiction about us having sex, and it fucked me up so bad I can no longer be in the same room as him.

No fucking way.

“You look like you’re holding in a fart.”

“You know, I’m getting really sick of you. Did you just come here to insult me?”

He snorts, but his smirk dissipates a few seconds later, a familiar seriousness filling the void. “We’re okay, right? Was the Yijeong thing too soon?”

“No,” you answer immediately, leaning over to flick him on the forehead. “We’re fine, and if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.” He still looks doubtful. “You want me to start singing ‘I Will Always Love You’ or something? It’s just… weird work stuff.”

“Depends. Are you singing the Dolly Parton or Whitney version? And real work or podcast work?”

“Podcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.”

Yoongi seems surprised by this, eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe. “Like, the podcast with Namjoon?” He presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek when you nod your head. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Like I said, it’s weird. It wasn’t, like, an argument or anything.”

“How weird?”

“You’re so fake, Min Yoongi. You act like you’re so distinguished and above drama, but really you’re just as hungry for gossip as the rest of us.”

He shrugs. “I’m not denying it.”

God help you, you’re going to rip off the band-aid. “Someone… Jesus, this is so embarrassing. Someone… wrote? Fanfiction? About us.”

“About you and Namjoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god—”

“About us… uh. Having sex? Specifically.”

“Oh my god—”

“Jungkook found it and thought it’d be funny if we read it for an episode.”

“Oh my god?”

“So we did? And it was really weird, which I expected, because I’ve known Namjoon for a long time, and I never, ever thought about having sex with him because we were together and me and Namjoon are friends, so yeah, it was fucking weird. But now… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about it? And now we can’t even be in the same room as one another.” Yoongi is a concerning shade of red. “So our show is gonna get canceled, because we can only release b-side stuff for so long until people realize something’s up, and it was Namjoon’s podcast to begin with so obviously I’ll get fired—”

“Oh my god, you want to fuck Namjoon.”

Yoongi sounds like a strangled cat when he says this, which does not help the way you feel like you’ve been hit square in the face with a frying pan. “No,” you argue, though it sounds more like a question. You do not want to fuck Namjoon. “No, no. No. It’s just because it was weird.”

“Did you forget I dated you for six years? I know what you look like when you want to fuck someone.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t be weird if someone wrote fanfiction about you fucking your friend?”

“Not if I didn’t actually want to fuck them, no.”

“You’re a liar. Get your dog and get out of my apartment.”

Yoongi laughs as he stands. Pats you on the back in the most condescending way you’ve ever had someone pat you on the back. “Let me know how it goes. No need to give me credit for your moment of horny clarity.”

Min Yoongi is a bastard.

Unfortunately, as you come to find out, he’s also a correct bastard.

You want to fuck Namjoon.

Which is… not great, you have to admit, considering he can barely stand to be around you, so you take another cold shower and decide you’re going to take this to your grave. You’re going to spend the rest of the weekend getting your shit together, and you’re going to show up on Monday and be a consummate professional. You’re going to look at Namjoon and say, ha ha, isn’t it so funny someone thought we would have sex? I don’t think about it at all because I am so cool and normal about it.

You’ve got it all planned out. You’re going to show up fifteen minutes early with your own box of pastries. You’re going to look nice, if not a little pretentious—maybe a nice sweater. You’re going to be prepared with notes of your own. You might even be nice to the villain of the week so Namjoon doesn’t have to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh at you.

And then someone knocks on your door.

You find Namjoon on the other side, and all your plans immediately go to shit.

Has he always been this tall? You can’t remember. You can’t remember a lot of things, including how to speak, because Yoongi had launched you into a crisis of epic proportions and now here’s the source of it, standing right in front of you. With all of his… height. And thighs. And that heady, musky cologne he always wears, that you can still smell now even though there’s an unfortunate amount of distance between you.

“Uh, hi.”

You blink. “Hi,” you parrot, and it’s a little insulting how one single word seems to have sucked up all of your brainpower. “Namjoon,” you tack on, not awkward at all.

“Sorry to just show up,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. Very bad idea; makes his biceps bulge. You barely swallow your whimper. “It’s just—my phone’s still broken, and it felt bad leaving things how we did? So I was hoping we could talk.”

Talk. Namjoon wants to talk to you. Normally: not a problem. Currently: big problem. You manage a nod, open the door wider to let him in, and you don’t think about how jarring it is to have Namjoon in your space. You don’t think about how your legs feel like jelly all of a sudden, or what it’d be like if Namjoon bent you over the couch, or the kitchen counter, or the—

You cough. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Oh, sure. Maybe just some water if you have it.”

If you have it. What kind of person doesn’t have water? But you tell him to make himself comfortable and get him some anyway, and you mull too long over the size of the glass. Ultimately decide on a smaller one, because if things get unbearably awkward you can excuse yourself to the kitchen to get more.

“I haven’t been here in a while,” Namjoon says from the living room, and when you look up he’s sorting through a stack of books near the window. Some he’d lent you months ago, notes jotted in the corners, sticky notes in the shape of sea animals on important pages. “You ever wind up reading this?”

The Idiot. Namjoon had raved about it when he was in the midst of his 19th century Russian phase, right after he’d read a bunch of Tolstoy and Pushkin. You shake your head—though, judging from the title, you wonder if someone hadn’t written your biography.

“It’s good. If you have the time, you should definitely give it a shot.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say, handing over his water. You take a seat in an armchair, pull your knees to your chest. Namjoon’s still looking through your books, isn’t looking at you, so it feels safe to say, “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He moves to sit on the floor, massive thighs spreading until he’s comfortable. Thank god he can’t see the look on your face. “I just wanted to make sure we’re alright. Things have felt pretty weird since we filmed the, uh.” He coughs. “Thing.”

“Right, yeah.” You realize he’s waiting for an answer, and you offer up a very rushed, “We’re fine, Joon.”

“Are you sure?”

Yeah, you’re sure: sure you absolutely cannot be having this conversation in the safety and sanctity of your own home. It’s tainted now, contaminated by all your uncontrolled horny thoughts about the man in front of you. You’ll have to fumigate. Might have to pick up and move, actually, or call an exorcist.

“I’m sure,” you assure him. “The… thing… was weird, but it’s fine. Temporary.”

“Do you think we shouldn’t have done it?”

That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Because, in isolation, reading a porn fic about yourselves wasn’t a big deal. No one got hurt. Everyone who needed to be consulted was consulted. The episode made the two of you a lot of money, and Jungkook even promised to send some of it to the author, so your bases are beyond covered.

So, should you have done it? There wasn’t a good enough reason not to, because the story itself was never the problem.

The problem is staring you right in the face. It’s sitting on your floor, a book cracked in half at the spine and forgotten in his lap. The problem is looking at you like you hold all the answers to the universe’s secrets, and it’s no small thing to be looked at like that. The problem is that Namjoon is looking at you like that from across the room but you’re wondering what it’d look like from on top of you.

The problem is that you’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, have known him even longer, and you’ve just realized today that you want to have sex with him.

And you can’t say that, can you, because Namjoon came here to fix things which really does not lend itself to a hookup. Namjoon cares about your friendship and your working relationship so much he came here to try and salvage it, so you’re going to keep your mouth shut. You’re going to say, “I think it’s okay that we did,” and leave it at that. Because it is okay.

Because you’re the problem.

It feels like a small victory when Namjoon sags in relief. When he exhales and says, “Okay, good, because I think so, too.”

“It made us a lot of money,” you tack on.

Namjoon’s eyes widen as he laughs. “Right? Like, that was almost too much money. Just to watch us read porn?”

“About ourselves. I think that was the selling point.”

He stands. You do, too. “Never thought I’d be doing that,” he says, returning the book to where it belongs. “Definitely the most embarrassing thing I’ve done for money.”

“Being a man with a podcast wasn’t embarrassing enough?”

He snorts. Gets closer to the door. “Hey now.” You’re going to survive this. “Thanks for entertaining me, by the way. For a second there I was really worried we’d fucked it all up.”

Just the ending. Just one more thing to say and you’ll be done with this, and then you can take your third cold shower in recent memory and triple text Yoongi with a full-fledged mental breakdown. Maybe he’ll bring Holly back and you can register him as your emotional support animal.

And Namjoon must sense the awkwardness that’s crept back in, because he tries to cover it with a joke. Says, “Haaa, like you’d actually piss on me, right?”

Except it sounds like he’s got a mouth full of marbles.

It’s no wonder you mishear him.

Because he says like you’d actually piss on me but you hear like you’d actually kiss me, and there isn’t a universe that exists in which the following makes sense: you, stunned into silence in the doorframe, Namjoon saying his goodbyes, you thinking fuck it, last chance and saying, “Yeah, I’d kiss you.”

Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. “What?”

Your entire body is on fire. “Is, uh. Is that not what you said?”

“I don’t think it matters anymore what I said.”

“I’d argue that it does, for the sake of my digni—”

“You’d kiss me?” Namjoon… doesn’t look put off of the idea, which is surely a point in your favor. Interesting to note that his diction is crystal clear, now. Bastard. “You’d kiss me right now?”

There’s also no explanation for the way you say: “It’s only been an option for ten seconds and you’re already begging for it?”

You’d say there’s no explanation for the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches, the way he repeats I don’t beg for anything, but maybe the simple fact is: the two of you want to fuck each other. And, judging from the way Namjoon crowds your space, keeps dropping his gaze to your mouth, it seems very likely to happen.

All that fixating you’d done on Namjoon’s thighs was wasted, you think, as you take in the shape of his mouth. His lips. The way his tongue darts out to run along the bottom at the last second before he reaches out, tilts your head up, and finally presses his mouth to yours.

And you’ve got to laugh, because no piece of written fiction could ever accurately portray what it feels like. How soft his lips are. The way he touches you—gentle, but still dominant enough to have you moving the way he wants, have you backing up into your apartment so he can smile against your mouth as he closes the door behind him.

No piece of fiction would get it right, the way you’re unsteady on your feet, breathless at the way Namjoon’s kissing you. How he only breaks apart long enough to ask where do you want me in that throaty, deep voice of his. How you’re so overwhelmed you can’t decide: unsure if you want to waste the time it’d take to get to your bedroom, but if it’s only going to happen once, wanting to make it count.

So you decide to risk it. Plant your hands in the middle of his exceptionally broad chest and push him in the direction of the hallway, and if the two of you can’t wait, can’t control yourselves, well.

But the story had gotten one thing right: Namjoon does kiss like a branding iron, hot and greedy. Namjoon kisses you like there’s nothing else he wants to do in this lifetime, and it makes you dizzy. Has you off-kilter, stumbling into the wall as you try to remember where the fuck your bedroom is and why it’s so far. Just like the fictional version of you, you also moan when he licks into your mouth.

“Should I do it the way we did in the fic?” Namjoon asks as the two of you cross the threshold into your bedroom, a cheeky grin on his face. “Do it like this?” he questions, pushing you gently until you’re on the back in the middle of your bed, chest heaving as you lift your head to look at him.

Namjoon is so, so big from where you lay, just hovering at the foot of your bed. Cheeks ruddy, bulge prominent. “What’d you say you wanted?”

Takes a second to remember how to breathe, let alone what you’d read. What do you want, Namjoon had asked, right before he’d sank to his knees in front of you. “Whatever you’re willing to give,” you answer.

Namjoon smiles. Puts one knee on the bed, and the way it dips beneath his weight is unsettling. Why does he have to be so fucking large. “That’s right, baby.” Christ, you think, because there’s another thing that fic had gotten right. No one on earth would be immune to Namjoon calling them baby in that tone of voice.

The riposte biting at the back of your teeth gets swallowed whole as Namjoon grabs your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed. “May I?” he asks, hands poised above the waistline of your leggings. You nod, and Namjoon drags down your underwear with them. “Fuck, look at you,” he groans, awe creeping into the edge of his words.

“You want me to do it the same way? Hm? You’re being awfully quiet; thought you were giving me shit about being the one in charge,” he chides.

Because you’re short-circuiting. Namjoon’s on his knees, just like you’d envisioned, and his mouth is dangerously close to your cunt. How can you be expected to think and speak under these conditions? But if Namjoon can find the brainpower to be a bastard, so can you, because what you’d read and the way he’d reacted can both never be forgotten. So you thread your hands into his hair and pull. The resulting moan is enough to sustain you for years.

“Are you gonna keep running your mouth, or are you gonna make me come on it?”

He blinks. “Jesus Christ.”

There’s precedent. Fictional Namjoon ate you out like a man starved, like he couldn’t get enough. Had fictional you writhing and insatiable, so it’s a lot to live up to, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest. He hesitates for only a second, giving you one last chance to back out before the two of you set every last boundary on fire, and then he’s settling between your thighs and making you see stars.

Now you know what it’s like. Now you don’t have to rely on fiction, and it doesn’t matter because it’d never compare to the way Namjoon feels as he works to bring you to your ruin. The way he flattens his tongue to lick long, thick stripes; the way his lips suction around your clit. The way it feels when he groans against your core. The way he says, “Fuck, you do taste good,” like that’s a completely normal thing to say. Like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to you.

But you need more and Namjoon knows it. His mouth doesn’t leave your cunt for a second, but his fingers find your mouth, so you put on a show. Wrap your lips around them, suck on them the way he’s doing to you, make sure they’re slick. Namjoon groans again, doubles his efforts. Slides one thick finger inside of you and barely lets you adjust before he’s adding a second.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, Namjoon has you unraveling. Presses incessantly on a spot that has your vision whiting out. Has you trembling, a little panicked as you say, “Joon, fuck—Namjoon, wait—” as it builds and builds and builds.

You might black out for a second, because you come to and Namjoon looks… stunned. He looks like he can’t believe any of what just happened, and you blink a few times, try to come back into your body, and when you regain enough consciousness, you’re extremely aware of the large wet patch beneath you.

“Um—”

“Holy shit.”

“Namjoon, that’s not—that’s embarrassing—can you grab a—”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Presses the taste of you into your skin, and all those silly protests die in your throat, because if Namjoon was needy before, he’s desperate now. Covers your body with his own, hips dipping down low enough to press his erection into the juncture of your thigh, and the weight of him is delicious. Has you fisting the fabric of his t-shirt to pull him closer, has you pulling it over his head, his pants following. Has your hands skimming down every thick part of his body until you reach his cock, hard and aching and slick with pre-cum.

“I need to suck you off later,” you say, done with overthinking. Time to just be honest, and Kim Namjoon has a dick you need to feel down your throat. “Remind me.”

He whines, thrusts into your hand a little harder. “How could I forget that?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t know if this would be the only time,” you answer. “Did you bring a condom?” Namjoon nods, fetches one from his wallet and rolls it on.

He hovers above you again. Looks nervous, all of a sudden, like he can’t tell his lefts from his rights. All out of sorts. You’re about to tell him it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to, don’t have to do anything at all, when he says, “It doesn’t have to be.” You just stare. “The only time.”

There’s a conversation to be had. You know that. Both of you clearly have feelings you need to talk about and sort out, but you reckon they can wait. They’ll still be there in the afterglow, in the morning. So you nod, say okay, Joon, and kiss away the insecurities that still linger.

You think about the fic. Think maybe Namjoon would appreciate it if you cracked a stupid joke, just like he’d tried to do earlier. “Has anyone ever called your cock stupid?”

He laughs, breath fanning against your skin. “No. Wanna try it and see what happens?”

Might as well. You try to remember the exaggerated tone of voice you’d used. Repeat the line—“Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”—and wait.

There’s a beat of silence, and then—

Namjoon swallows thickly. “I, um. Unfortunately, I think that really works for me.” You laugh. Pull him closer. Wrap your legs around his waist as he starts to move against you. Has jokes of his own. “Please. Please let me fuck you.”

You roll your eyes, laugh tapering into a giggle. “Do you know how?” Namjoon nods, looking all too much like a puppy eager to please its owner. “Do you promise?” He nods again. “Okay. Okay, come here.”

You expect him to move fast; expect the first time to be frenzied and a little awkward. It isn’t. Namjoon lines himself up and pushes the smallest bit inside, and then he’s leaning down to kiss you. Threads your fingers together, squeezes your hand. Pushes further inside and mumbles praise just beneath your ear.

It’s dizzying, the amount of care Namjoon handles you with. How soft he is. Does nothing to ease the discomfort of the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, but he talks you through it. Tells you how good you feel, how beautiful you look. Spills a lot of words you’d probably be embarrassed to hear and he’d be embarrassed to say if this was any other time, but in the heat of the moment it all just works to unravel you faster.

He bottoms out. “Okay?” he asks, and you’re rewarded with a dimpled smile when you say you are. Namjoon is a devastating kind of beautiful.

But, as he gives you time to adjust and you give him the all-clear, he also fucks like a demon. What once was hand-holding is now your wrists pinned to the bed, your body caged beneath him as he rolls his hips at a pace that has your eyes rolling back into your head. You’ve been deceived. Lured into a false sense of security.

It’s almost a shame this isn’t being recorded, because you want to memorize all the sounds Namjoon’s making. Want to hear them for the rest of your life. Don’t want anyone else to be the reason he sounds like this, and as he ups his pace and presses his lips to your neck, you don’t want to sound like this because of anyone else, either.

Maybe one of those times in the future, you can talk him into it.

Namjoon reaches down, rubs circles into your clit. Every time you think you might be close, he pulls his hand away, smiles like the devil. You let him have his fun for a while, let him think you’re keen to lie back and take it, and then you tighten your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back.

He doesn’t think it’s very funny. Looks up at you all bewildered. “What’re you—”

“You were taking too long,” you snark. “Figured I’d take matters into my own hands.”

“Yeah? Shit,” he says as you begin to move. “Fuck, baby, like that. Ride me just like that.”

You do. Don’t change a thing, because Namjoon’s cock is long and thick enough to hit exactly where you need it to. You can feel yourself clenching, feel yourself getting wetter, and the sight of Namjoon beneath you does nothing to stave off the inevitable. He looks even better than you’d imagined: skin flushed, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, sweat-slick. You want to make him cry. Want to give him the entire world. You will.

Namjoon thrusts at the same time you roll your hips, and that’s what does it. Has you crying out, has stars flashing behind your eyelids. Has you saying fuck, fuck, fuck as he drives you over the edge for the second time. Has you on the brink of oversensitive as he thrusts a few more times to chase his own end, almost delirious at the way Namjoon moans as he spills into the condom.

Has you swooning, just a bit, at the dopey way Namjoon smiles at you, eyes half-lidded and crinkled at the corners.

“Was that okay?”

You snort. “Yeah, I’d say it was decent.”

“Maybe next time you could pee on me,” he jokes.

You whack him on the chest. “Sure. Or we could record it.”

Has you a little shocked at the way his cock twitches inside of you at the mention of it.

On Monday, you don’t wear a pretentious sweater.

When you stroll in, Jungkook’s already got the best donut shoved halfway into his mouth because he’s a shithead. He eyes you warily, probably hoping with all his hope that you spent the weekend finding God and getting your shit together.

And then he realizes you’ve got on Namjoon’s hoodie and he nearly chokes to death.

“What the fuck are you wearing—”

Namjoon appears at that very moment, and it’s so hard not to take credit for the way he’s glowing, the dazed smile on his face. But Jungkook notices, because Jungkook notices everything, and his gaze darts between the two of you: your hoodie, Namjoon’s face, your face. He opens his mouth, something inappropriate bound to spill out, but Namjoon beats him to the punch. “Ready?” he asks you, and you nod.

It’s seamless.

No hiccups, no awkward stuttering. Namjoon gets through the intro without a hitch, and it feels exactly like it used to. Just two friends having a conversation. It’s obvious Jungkook still wants to say something, but after suffering through last week, he stays quiet lest he makes it worse and sends the two of you back to the bad place.

“How was your weekend, Pipe? Do anything fun?” Namjoon rolls his lips, tries not to laugh.

So you play along. “No, not really, just some dog sitting. How about you?”

“Oh, you know me. Had another first date on Saturday.”

“Did you? How’d it go?”

“Perfect.”

It’s a blessing Jungkook isn’t filming this, because your eyebrows raise so far they nearly disappear from your face altogether. There isn’t even a hint of hesitation in Namjoon’s voice, and although you would’ve described it the same way, hearing him say it with such conviction has you a little stunned. “Wow. You gonna see her again?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, sharing a private smile with you. “I think I am.”

who the FUCK is namjoon dating Posted by u/pod-shipper 7 minutes ago This has honestly ruined my entire day. I thought all the stories he told about dating were a bit… Like, what kind of guy has a podcast about relationships but can’t seem to be in one? But you could just HEAR it in his voice how much he likes this woman he went on a date with over the weekend and I’m sick to my stomach. (+2195) ↳ bro you and me both 😭 i genuinely thought him and piper had something going on fr (+1302) ↳ Seriously might stop listening because of this! Any woman with self-respect would never let their partner host a podcast with someone they’re obviously in love with. If he gets serious with this woman, Piper will be gone within 6 months, mark my words. (+927) ↳ I wouldn’t worry about it too much! My cousin works at a really nice restaurant in the same city Namjoon lives in, and she said she saw this “date” on Saturday and that it wasn’t anything serious. (+788) ↳ Piper got a cat and Namjoon finally got a second date. Face it, it’s over. (+325) ↳ cannot believe him and piper aren’t dating.. do you think i should delete all my tiktok edits? (+4) ↳ this is unhinged lmfao i thought y’all hated piper? you’re in here bitching abt her being a “misandrist” every week and now ur gonna stop listening bc namjoon isn’t dating her? pick a lane and stay in it (-64)

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and reblogs/shares are always welcome! I appreciate you very much~ ♡

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jewel writes

[hoseoksluna]

BOOKWORMS | knj

pairing: boyfriend!namjoon x reader

genre: smut; fluff

word count: 4.4k

summary: namjoon thinks of you when he reads a smut scene in his book.

warnings: boyfriend namjoon!!!, kimi namijoon reading, mentions of sex (riding), oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, the importance of consent, teasing, raw sex, breeding kink <3, big dick namu!!, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, joonie's chain dangling in ur face, tummy bulge, creampie, bruising, hickeys, aftercare:(

note: it took blood, sweat and tears (hehe) to write this and i'm so happy it's finally here!! i loved writing about namjoon. he's my whole soul and the entirety of my heart and i have to write abt him again soon. please take your time reading this and enjoy urself! let me know what you think in the comments mwah (or tell me anonymously in my inbox) and as i always say please like and if u want to - reblog, but i won't pressure u baby. love love you!!

side note: if you want to jump straight to the smut, it's right under the asterisks &lt;;3

You revel, you truly do, in seeing your boyfriend in such a serene state of mind. 

Nose buried in a book, Namjoon pays no mind to the surroundings fleeting by him with each flutter of his eyelashes. It goes unnoticed by him, strangely so, how you tidy up the apartment you share. How you feed the two cats that chose you and him to be their human parents. How you fondle their soft ears. How you bend over the furniture to whisper ‘pspsps’ at them when they need a moment away from you just to see their round eyes look up at you stupidly. Namjoon usually observes these moments; this utmost natural behavior of yours. He draws strength from the homeliness of it all with each and every swell of his lungs. Needs it to survive. That is until he gets a hold of that one papery portal and sits comfortably on the couch, one ankle propped over the knee. Then, he ceases to exist in this world. 

You’re happy for him. Over time, you’ve come to find that you have a certain fondness for the way he remains stoic. Because you always know what kind of book he’s reading, a smile blossoms on its own over the line of your lips whenever your eye catches the sculpture-like look on his face. It’s like even if he let himself hold his breath, his consciousness would waver back to the earth and the wretched awareness that he’s here, among mortals and the unfair capitalist system aftermath, would stream in his bloodstream, poisoning his experience. It takes the leisure out of it and makes the bed for misery instead. He doesn’t like it. Hates it, in fact. It’s a necessity that he focuses, as he embarks on the journey, because he does it for you.

Namjoon confides in his feelings and his literature with you almost on a daily basis. On the same couch, with the same cats snoring faintly, their small bodies spilling over the perimeter of your tangled legs. Doesn’t matter if it’s his thigh or the curve of your hip. The animals always find a warm crook to doze in, eavesdropping in, with their curious little ears, on the conversations you’re having. Though you reckon they like the meat of his thigh the best. You do, too. Can’t really blame them. The same serenity that intimately knows the person of Namjoon perceives the person of you when he prompts you to rest your head on his lap while he brushes his book-kissed fingers through the silky waterfall of your hair. Thoroughly explains the intricacies of the plot he’s invested in to you. Describes the characters as if they’re real people he’s become acquainted with. They are real to you as you listen. As you ask additional questions and gaze up at his eyes just to catch that one body of a shooting star fiery hot in the glossiness of his eyes. As you wonder, openly, what will happen to them.

“I’ll tell you when they tell me.” He sunk the promise onto the smooth skin of your forehead with the pucker of his lips.

It’s how you discovered, in all seriousness, that the plaster of his stoicism breaks during these literary moments.

Various colors of emotion tug and twist his features, the bare kind. The unrestrained kind. You know it’s a relief for him when the dam bursts open, soaking you in the beauty of humanness one only finds in literature these days. You can’t help but fall in love with him all over again when his eyebrows furrow. When his orbs nearly burn a hole in the ceiling when he’s trying to think of the right word that will ultimately help him convey the unfolding of the storyline. When he gives up and weaves English into his sentences, relying on his hands to say what his overstimulated brain fails to do. 

He reads to pass knowledge to you. The serenity whispered it into the chambers of your heart, a puff of hot breath in winter’s cold. It soothingly rubbed his shoulders when Namjoon told you there used to be a time when he couldn’t stand the sight of his books lining up the walls of his apartment. Wanted to burn it down and watch as the evidence of his melancholy dies in front of him. Because that’s what most of his book collection consisted of back then. The innermost shadowy faces of his pain. Loneliness. Sadness. Despair from life, from it not being enough for him, from it not saving a spot there for him–not once throughout the course of his life. That’s why he reads different kinds of books now. Ones that do not reflect his survival before you.

The reader has to get wiser, ruffled by life in order to gain more, gain what they need from those once deeply loved pages. It’s what the serenity believes. It’s what you believe and hope for Namjoon. That one day, somehow by the healing of the love you give him, he will look back and pick a souvenir from that moonless country of pain. Put it up somewhere between the spines of his new cluttered collection. Look at it from time to time and sense that it’s telling him something. Something that will fill the stitched-up cracks in his heart with sunlight. Something that he will pass over to you. It’s your love language after all. Namjoon reads because you read. It’s his own personal healing thing. 

You two are just a pair of two bookworms. Unfit for the world outside. Fit for the land you two created. Whose soil you take care of together.

***

Dinner is almost ready by the time you feel his fingertips gripping your hips. You hum, acknowledging his presence. Glad for the homely heat that radiates off of his body and seeps into your bones as you stir the risotto you decided to make on the stove. Coldness had been embracing you all day while he read so you’re overjoyed that he ripped it away from you.

Namjoon places a kiss on your temple and you sigh in relief. You might be too dependent on him, but so is he. He wouldn’t be nuzzling his face in your hair, squeezing your waist, peppering kisses on your tender skin if he wasn’t. It’s the perfect balance. And it’s not that you’re not able to be away from each other. The principle of looking forward to one another is what makes it so sweet, so endurable for the pair of you. Of the coming back and coming into contact at the end of the day. It’s natural. Simple. Human.

“Missed me?” Namjoon husks into your ear. 

You smirk and turn off the stove, turning around to face him. “Terribly.”

His body is clad in a black T-shirt that fits his broad figure well and a pair of baggy sweats of the same color, having discarded the warm crewneck he was wearing earlier somewhere in the universe of his book. A long silver chain twinkles in the middle of his chest in the yellow light. You caress it with your fingers and leave your palm there, on the hardness of his pecs. 

“I finished the book,” he says and you blink up at him. You’re not surprised at all. “Couldn’t put it down.”

Sleepy wrinkles have left their mark on his face from the cozy position he laid in for too long on the couch. His short sunlit hair, grown healthily from his military service, is tousled in all directions and you smooth it down for him. How did God bless you with such a beautiful man is something you’ll wonder about for the rest of your life. 

“What happened to Theo in the end?” you ask, genuinely curious about whether one of the characters you’ve grown attached to is okay after all the shit the author put him through. 

Namjoon was reading a coming-of-age book about a boy named Theo. A panorama of his childhood and adolescent life, you’ve heard all about it. Namjoon cared a lot about this story, cared a lot about the protagonist’s emotions and reactions to the reappearing storms. What made him stick with it, despite the nearly triggering themes, is the fact that Theo never let go of his optimism no matter what. It was incredibly inspiring for Namjoon. Something new. Something that he never thought could be possible. You’re proud of him for daring to read a book so reminiscent of his past.

“You’re not gonna believe it,” Namjoon says, a blush creeping along his cheeks.

You raise one of your eyebrows in question. 

“Theo got laid,” Namjoon reveals, laughing softly. “I’m so happy for him.”

You gasp and burst into giggles. “What?”

“He got some!” 

Your laughter rises in volume. “He lost his virginity and that’s the end?”

“It was a big moment for him. A triumph of some kind. Like he shed his old skin and left that broken life behind. It was amazing.” Namjoon’s eyes glint with tiny shooting stars and you melt. He always finds poetic meanings in the varieties of the character arcs. You think you just fell in love with him all over again. 

“That’s really beautiful,” you admit. It reminds you of something. Of something quite personal. “My first time with you changed my life as well.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows curl in tenderness. Dragon eyes widen and round in fervent emotion. He squeezes his arms around you, enfolding you in a hug. Kisses you warmly. Strokes your hair down your back. Your own eyes pool with little tears with the intimate knowledge that you chose the right person to unfold your raw femininity with. No one, no man other than him could have created such a safe for that to happen.

“Tell you what,” Namjoon says a bit hoarsely. “I saw us in it.”

You hum, encouraging him to continue. Crave for more of his thoughts and confidential findings. Its fire spreading through your body, as each word of his registers in your brain, always makes you feel phenomenally alive. You’re not timid to avow that it’s your addiction. Shame doesn’t know you.

“Elena was on top and he was watching her. In awe of her,” he murmurs, caressing your cheek with the tip of his thumb. “Made me think of our last time. A life changing experience of mine as well.”

You welcome the fire and suspire with sudden desire, eyes lidding. Your heart begins to thump. Namjoon studies your reaction. 

“You remember well, don’t you?” He nudges his nose against yours. “I was in awe of you just the same.” 

It’s impossible not to remember. The memory consumes your mind every waking hour. Gets you needy in ways you haven’t felt before. Namjoon had you sat on his lap among the fluffiness of your innumerable pillows and plushies. Had you do all the work as he focused on the sleekness of your freshly moisturized calves, its coconut aroma interfused with the scent of sex and the euphony of your bounces, ragged breaths and broken moans making his head all fucked up. He was loud himself, more loud than you ever recalled him being. Reading your body at the mercy of the pleasure his hard length was giving you with his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. Not once did he take his eyes off of you, not once did he help you. Just gripped your calves. Your thighs. Your tits all in his face. Only when you came hard, out of your own delightful merit, did his eyes roll back. You left his hips glazed with the evidence of your well-deserved orgasm, a porcelain statue made glossy.

A little later, during your pillow talk, he told you he’d found the idea of you using him while getting yourself off extremely hot. Made him more hard than he’d been in a while. Begged you to be even more selfish next time, adding an indistinct, ‘well, of course, if you want’ to the end of his sentence because he’s Namjoon.

“I do,” you breathe. “Touched myself to it this morning while you were still asleep.”

Namjoon groans. “God.” He kisses the side of your neck. Gets close to your ear. “You wanna do it again, hm? Wanna fuck me?” 

You might burst. His closeness, his heat, his need to ask for your consent turns you unstable. You’re choked up on your words, mind too fuzzy to say something. Turned on. Fucked up.

“You wanna show me how you touched yourself?” Namjoon continues, but you shake your head against the side of his face. 

You had touched yourself in the shower. Couldn’t say no to the impulse. Sharing that part of you for his eyes to see isn’t something you’re quite ready for. To you, it’s still something that’s yours. Something private. A courage you have yet to pluck up. You’re afraid to give him this last part of your femininity.

“Not today,” you whisper, planting a kiss on his neck. Feel him shiver. “I’m sorry. Do you mind?”

Withdrawing from your neck, Namjoon looks you dead in the eye, brows twisted in stern seriousness. “Don’t ever apologize for something like that again. Hear me when I say that.”

You squeeze his shoulder, the corners of your mouth lowering in a pout. Thankfulness grips your heart and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. 

“You know this is why we do this right?” he asks you. “Why I ask you these questions? I need to always know what you’re comfortable with so I don’t make a mistake.”

You nod. “Yes, Namjoon, I know and I’m so thankful.”

“Good. I’ll never push you to do anything you don’t want. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t.” 

“That’s my girl. 

You grab him by the back of his neck and engulf him in a hug. Luckiest girl in the world? That you are. The fact that you’re his is still something you can’t wrap your head around.

“We can stop. We don’t even have to do anything tonight—”

“No, Namjoon.” You withdraw. “Look.” Wrapping your hand around his wrist, you slip his hand beneath the confines of your panties. 

His breath shakes when he reaches your soaked folds. He traces your hole with his middle finger and your hips follow his movement, the pleasure so faint but so good that you flutter your eyes closed.

“Fuck, baby.” 

“Yeah, I need you. Need more,” you breathe out. “Can’t leave me like this, can you?”

Namjoon hums. “No, I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of this pussy.” 

He kisses you. Massages his tongue against yours. You buck your hips into his hand and Namjoon hears your body language. Takes his fingers up and rubs your swollen clit from side to side, quickening his pace as he swallows your moans down his throat. Gets angry at your tight leggings hindering him in giving you more, so he gets on his knees and swiftly pulls them down along with your underwear. 

“Sit on the counter.”

You comply right away. Namjoon takes your feet in his hands and gently removes your slippers, removing your garments fully so they don’t pool around your ankles. He needs your legs spread and he needs them spread wide for what he’s about to do to you. 

Torso long enough to reach you, he remains on his knees. Runs his hands up the back of your thighs to guide you into the position he wants you in. “Lock your arms around the back of your knees. Don’t let go.”

You do as he says, biting your lips in nervousness. Intertwine your hands together. Prepare yourself to die. 

Namjoon studies your dewy pussy, index and middle finger mimicking the letter V as he slides them up and down your folds, squeezing just right to hear you mewling. Your knees being so close together makes her look a lot more pillowy and you hear Namjoon breathe hard, absolutely hypnotized by the beauty of your flesh. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping down my hand.” He withdraws his fingers to show you how your slick trickles down the lines on his palm, changing the course of his life once and for all. 

Your clit throbs, breath matching his. “Please, Namjoon.”

He curses inaudibly. Brings his fingers back down to your folds, squeezes your lips and your clit together. Hisses at the sweet whimpery sounds spilling out of your mouth. Presses tighter so you whine needily for him. Takes you into his mouth when he accomplished what he wanted, tonguing your clit in slow agonizing circles that has you buckling your hips again. Puts his hands on your thighs to keep you down, flicking fast to absolutely abuse the fuck of you. Dragon eyes zeroing on yours, he gives you the hypnosis that your pussy did to him as he sucks on your bundle of nerves. You can’t even scream. Can’t breathe. The pleasure overwhelms you wholly and straps you down. There’s nothing you can do but take it. 

You come hard on his tongue. Namjoon laps it all up gladly. And when he’s finished, he stands up and slips those two digits that ruined you into your hole. Doesn’t move them. Lets you adjust instead.

“One more,” he mutters. “Please.”

You nod.

“Use your words or we’re stopping.”

You groan and close your eyes, your thighs visibly shaking in your iron grip from your orgasm. “Yes, Namjoon, one more. I’ll come for you.”

Namjoon places a wet kiss on your thigh to praise you, and to thank you as well. Begins to move his fingers promptly, but can’t seem to get enough of your skin. Proceeds to make it shiny with his liquid love, sucking it to bruise you. To remember this moment a little more fondly in the morning. 

Creating a trail up to the back of your knee, his digits pick up the speed. The pool of slick you left in his palm sloshes with each rapid thrust of his hand. He looks back at you and sees you lost in the pleasure, eyes lidded and unfocused. “Look at me.” 

You do, weakly.

“Just a little bit more and I’ll fuck you, all right?”

You’re about to nod, but decide against it. “Mhm, yes, Namjoon, fuck.” 

He smiles down at you. Your relief inches closer. “I’m so proud of you for speaking up today. For letting me know.” 

You could cry right now. Because of his fingers making you feel so good. Because of his kindness making you feel so safe. It all closes in on you and you whimper. 

Abruptly, Namjoon unravels your grip on your knees and kisses you, tongue slipping in. You come all over his hand, without meaning to, and he doesn’t stop. On the contrary, Namjoon fucks you harder. Takes all four of his fingers and strums your clit, prolonging your orgasm, swallowing down all of your moans. 

“Come on.”

Namjoon helps you down. If it weren’t for his arms holding you steady, you would’ve collapsed on the floor. Your legs shake, muscles taut and tense. 

“I got you.”

Sat on the floor with his joggers and boxers pulled beneath his crotch, he pulls you down on his lap. A wisp of precum adorns his tip and you wrap your hand around it, collecting it with your thumb. Watch him as you swirl your tongue around the digit before sucking on it, letting go with an obscene pop. Namjoon licks his lips, hands clasping your hips hard enough to bruise you. Twitches in your other hand.

“Don’t fucking do that to me, baby.” 

You laugh almost inaudibly, drunk on him. “Are you gonna come in me?” 

He replaces your hand, holding his length at the base for you to sink down. And you do, gasping softly at his thickness. Your dewiness helps it to be a smooth ride.

“Gonna pump you full. Leave you dripping,” he promises, voice restrained. “Gonna fuck you so good you’ll remember it for the rest of your life.” 

One thing about Namjoon, he’s a man of his word. 

Seated perfectly on him, he waits for you to adjust. Alleviates the tremble of your thighs with his palms, massaging the muscles. Takes off your shirt and flings it across the kitchen. Gropes your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers. You start to grind on him, throwing your head back. He latches onto your nipple and flicks the nub with his tongue. You lose your mind, leaking down his balls. 

“Ready?” he asks against the fullness of your breast. 

“Yeah, fuck me, Joon.” 

He thrusts into you once to watch you fall apart. Locks your arms behind your back. Grabs your forearms for his use.

“You forgot something.”

He thrusts again, harder this time.

“What?” you breathe out, meekly. 

“What word do you use when you want to ask for something?”

He watches you as you work it out in your brain. Fucks into you three more times, equally hard, to disrupt you. 

“Fuck, sorry. Please, Joon, please.”

He grinds, hips rotating in circles. 

“Uh-huh, that’s right. Now use it.” 

Namjoon envelops your tit in his mouth, swirling his tongue around your areola. Sucking. Keeping up the agonizing pace. Groaning when you clench down on him. 

“Please, hmph, fuck me.”

Your breast bounces back when he lets go, biting his lip. “Knew you could do it,” he coos. “Smart fucking girl.” 

He begins to fuck you properly. Thrusting up and down as he holds you steady, keeping his eyes locked on yours. As he takes control of your squirming, leaving his fingerprints on your forearms and waist. You’re breathless, whimpering, on the verge of sobbing. So turned on and needy for him that the emotions brim in you, threatening to spill over. 

“Aren’t you?” Namjoon continues. “Aren’t you a smart girl?” 

You nod, knowing exactly what he wants to hear. “I’m a smart girl.” 

He spanks your ass to reward you and you arch your back. Tits all in his face. He’s mesmerized watching them bounce and nearly slap against each other, nubs hard and pointed. He licks them up, flicking them with his tongue. You round your shoulders a little in pleasure, his strong grip not letting you fold like your body wants. 

“That’s right. So smart and good for me. So fucking wet. Making me lose my mind.”

Namjoon kisses you. Inhales you. Withdraws only for a mere second before he’s back, tongue in, toying with you the way you like it. You feel your relief calling your name.

“Namjoon, I’m so fucking close. I’m so close. I’m gonna come,” you whine, forehead pressed against his, face twisted in ecstasy.

Namjoon stops out of the blue and slips out of you. You whine loudly, but before you know it, he carries you to the couch and lays you down on it. Takes off all of his clothes until only his silver chain remains, shining bright in the dim light. He spreads your legs, one limb over the backrest, the other around his thigh. Grips his length and tugs at it a few times, the feeling of your wetness making him slippery pulling moan after moan out of him. 

He enters you again and resumes his fast pace, holding your calf in his hand. “Smart girls come on the couch, not on the floor like whores. You got that?” 

You nod almost too eagerly, fucked out beyond measure. “Yes, Joon, please make me come. Please, come here.” 

Namjoon leans towards you, propping his elbows by your head, cradling you. “I’m here. I’m gonna make you come.” 

From this angle, he fucks you more deeply than before, his tip reaching your cervix. You roll your eyes back, but bring them right back to his face when his chain taps you on the chin. You find it so hot that you grind your hips against his, meeting his thrusts, encouraging him to fuck you harder. The chain meets you in erratic staccatos and you scratch your nails down his bare back, the sword-like pendant hurting you in a way that you like. 

Namjoon notices. Slows down his movements. Pinches the chain from the back of his neck. Prompts you to lift your head and slides it over, letting it rest in the middle of your breasts. Then fucks you back into the couch.  

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips. “Gonna breed you. Hm. You want that, don’t you?”

The cord tightens in your lower belly. The bulge of where his tip is hitting you nudges him in his stomach and he looks down. Curses. 

“Look.” 

You follow his eyes and moan. “Namjoon, Namjoon, please come in me. I’m so close. Wanna feel you. Please.” 

He grunts, nodding his head. Licks his fingertips and presses them against your clit. Pleasures you in fast and swift jerks until you’re knocking your head back. Only when he grabs your jaw and kisses you does the cord snap, his lips being your ultimate undoing. 

Namjoon presses you down with his body, keeps you calm and collected. Kisses you all through it, your jaw, your neck, your cheeks. Then his thrusts turn sloppy and his cock twitches in you. He gives you one final hard thrusts and fills you up, groaning against your mouth.

You’re smoothing down the sting of your scratches on his back when he pulls out of you and his cum drips out of you. You wish you could see what he sees, hand on his mouth, careful to catch his drool. You push out more for him and he curses, fondling your pussy with his thumb before he pumps it back in. 

He comes back to you and kisses you. Fixes your hair. Caresses your cheek. Helps you stand on your feet as he leads you into the shower. Washes every inch of your body, heedful of the bruises he left on the back of your thigh. Lathers your hair in your favorite shampoo. Wraps you in a towel. Wanted to moisturize your body, but you told him off, knowing both of you would get horny again. You let him brush your hair, though, placing a comb in his hand. He’s gentle as he undoes the knots, then he blowdries your hair. 

And you do the same for him.

Once the pillow touches your cheeks, you’re both out like a light. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x oc #namjoon x you #btscreatorscorner #bts smut #bts imagine #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon fluff #kpop smut #knj x reader #knj #kim namjoon #namjoon

[7ndipity]

The Morning After

Namjoon x Reader

Summary: Namjoon’s reaction to you waking up sore after a night together.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: +18 mdni, brief smut, overstimulation, swearing, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this!

Masterlist

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It was still early when you woke up, face buried in the pillows as you lay on your stomach, the gentle sound of someone quietly humming your favorite song pulling you from sleep.

Slowly, you cracked your eyes open, searching out the owner of the familiar deep voice, smiling to yourself as your gaze fell on his half dressed figure, his back to you as he rummaged around in his closet.

Finding what he was looking for, he turned back towards the bed, stopping as he caught sight of your sleepy expression watching him.

“Hey.” Joon spoke softly, as if not wanting to wake you any further, coming to kneel in front of you.

“Hey,” You mumbled, stretching slowly. “Where're you going? It’s so early.”

“Just to the gym. Thought I’d get my workout in this morning, so we could have the afternoon together.” He said, smoothing down your hair.

You groaned. “How’re you not tired from last night? I can’t even move.” You replied, earning a chuckle from him.

“Well, that’s why I gotta keep my strength up.” He said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Namjon!” You couldn’t stop moaning his name. “Fuck, please, Namjoon!” You cried out, feeling his length twitch and pulse inside of you with every sound that left your lips.

You’d been at it for hours, Joon pounding into you from behind as if his life depended on it, pumping into you over and over, twisting you around into every position he could think of, your bodies covered in a sticky sheen of sweat and cum.

“Agh-fuck!” You whimpered, letting your head drop to the mattress, clutching into the sheets beneath you for dear life as he slipped a hand around to circle your poor abused clit.

The feeling was so overwhelming, your whole body felt like it was on fire, every snap of his hips sending a jolt of electricity through you, causing the tension to build up inside of you at an alarming rate.

You’d lost count of how many times he’d made cum, but as he suddenly picked up the pace, slamming into you with enough force to knock the wind out of you, you could feel another rapidly approaching, tears rolled down your face as your body shook in ecstasy.

“Joonie, please, ‘s too much.” You whimpered. “ ‘m gonna cum again.”

He responded by pulling you even closer to him, his fingers digging into your flesh as he dragged you upright against his chest, impaling you on his cock.

“It’s alright, Baby, you can take it.” He panted, pressing messy, wet kisses against the back of your neck. “Just one more for me, please.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, holding in your breath as Joon continued to pound up into your over sensitive pussy.

“F-fuck!” You cried, your body convulsing and going rigid as you came for the nth time around his cock.

"There it is." Joon groaned as you spasmed against him, holding you up as your body went limp from exhaustion. “Good job, Baby.”

Namjoon’s touch pulled your focus back to the present, tracing gently over your cheek down to your lips.

“You want me to bring back coffee and breakfast later?” He asked sweetly.

“Yes, please.” You said sleepily as he stood back up, going to finish packing his gym bag.

You moved to roll over and get out of the bed, letting out the tiniest whimper as you became fully aware of the soreness and sensitivity in your core and legs.

Joon froze at the sound, looking back at you concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just a little sore.” You said, trying to sound convincing as you stood up, but your legs nearly gave out under you immediately, leaving you staggering back against the bed.

Joon jumped forward, catching you before you fell properly, holding you tightly by the waist.

“Fuck, baby, I thought you were joking!” He said, startled. “Are you okay?”

“I… I think I need to take it easy today.” You admitted weakly.

Joon stared down at you, absolutely stricken as he pulled you closer, holding you gently.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, baby.” He said guiltily. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’m okay.” You tried to reassure him, but he paid you no mind, picking you up bridal style and carrying you to the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” You asked, clinging to him in surprise.

“I am going to run you a bath, and then we’re going to do whatever else you want to do today.”

“I thought you were going to the gym?” You said curiously.

“And leave you here when you can’t even walk? No way.” He shook his head. “I’m staying here and looking after you.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You said quietly, feeling shy.

“Yes, I do.” He said seriously. “I love you, and I want to take care of you.”

“Alright,” You replied, slightly flustered.

He kept his word, refusing to let you so much as lift a finger the rest of the day, carrying you everywhere through the house as needed and waiting on you hand and foot.

“How are you feeling?” He asked for the tenth time as you sat together watching tv after dinner, dozing on his shoulder.

“Much better.” You said, snuggling closer. “Thank you for looking after me”

“Always.” He replied, kissing the top of your head. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Can we do this again next week?” You asked, grinning up at him cheekily.

“Seriously?!” He laughed.

“Yeah, why not?” You shrugged.

“Aren’t you worried about your legs or anything?” He asked, looking at you in disbelief.

“Not if I have you to carry me around.” You said, grinning up at him as you looped your arms around his neck.

“Let’s just focus on you feeling better right now, okay?” He chuckled.

“Alright.” You relented, slumping back down to rest back against his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He replied, watching as your eyes drooped back shut.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @captainorangegoose

#namjoon scenario #namjoon scenarios #namjoon drabble #namjoon smut #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #bts smut #bts drabble #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts one shot #7ndipity #bts requests

[nmjoo-n]

DREAM GIRL 💭 kim namjoon.

pair. writer! namjoon x f. reader | genre. age gap romance, obsession, love at first sight, angst | warnings. corruption kink, profanity, slight stalker behavior, daddy kink, pet names, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, power imbalance, just filthy sex tbh | word count. 3.7k

synopsis. “tell me pretty baby, have you ever been fucked up against a wall?” or namjoon is completely enamored by your angelic innocence, and absolutely has to claim you.

Kim Namjoon spent most of his time reading.

His most recent binge had been Murakami books, the woman through a man’s point of view, and while fascinating—it lacked depth. Intensity. This author clearly understood the peculiar sex very little, was entirely focused on his love for them, and their reaction to it. If it was Namjoon, he’d let them lead the narrative, while he’d step back and observe.

Women were to be observed, understood, before approached. This is how he found you, a perfect little angel in your white dress, sipping coffee outside his neighborhood’s café, softly talking to a grey, stray cat, your hand extended out for it, your fingers delicate in their calling. You stopped him dead on his tracks. He could do nothing but stare.

You looked so peaceful in your oblivion, your hair up and away from your face, a book propped on your knees. Namjoon’s feet moved without his knowledge, his mind replaying one thing—I have to see your face, your beautiful features, I need to meet you, sweetheart. Shamefully, his cock stirred in his pants, alerting him of his improper intentions. No matter. He couldn’t control his response to you, didn’t want to.

Walking in the coffeehouse, he leaned against the tall counter, head lazily falling into his open palm, gaze following your every move. Ordering his usual drink, he gathered the courage to approach you. You seemed to like this cat, so, perhaps an animal lover, and you most certainly were a reader—it was a start, an opening for him.

Clouds were beginning to gather, September coming to an end, but you paid no mind to them, your eyes scanning the pages of whatever you were reading. His writer brain was romanticizing your entire existence, was picturing you under him, in his arms, consumed, defiled, claimed. A pretty little thing dancing in the rain, running towards him, laughing, the outline of your breasts visible for anyone to see.

Henry Miller would’ve been one jealous fucker if he’d ever known you were out there, years ahead of him, a muse for the taking. Namjoon thanked every fucking God known for putting you in his way. Bukowski would be having a field day fantasizing about your honey dripping thighs and sweet pussy. You are every writer’s dream, sweetheart, and do you even realize?

“Beautiful choice,” he comments on the book in your lap, coming to stand over you, desperately trying not to lose it over your angel features.

You jump, startled, and look up to witness the most breathtaking man you’ve ever come across in your life, smiling down at you. You smile back without meaning to, your back straightening, your shoe clad feet touching the pavement.

“Anaïs is for the bold,” you retort, voice light, motioning for him to sit in the empty chair opposite you.

He’s massive, with strong arms and long legs. He thanks you softly and takes the seat, paper cup in hand, eyes piercing through you in an identifiable way. You shiver—blame it on the chilly day.

“Are you bold, then?” He asks cryptically, leaning into you. You feel exposed, but intrigued. So incredibly intrigued.

You falter in giving him your answer. You don’t even know his name. You don’t think it matters. “I—I try, I think.”

He smirks, and pulls away, taking with him his amber scent and magnetism. You miss it as soon as it’s gone. You reason with yourself, try to find an explanation for your thought’s reaction—your body’s.

“I’m Namjoon, sweetheart. What should I call you?” His voice was velvet; deep, and manly. It radiated through you.

Closing the book, you instead chose to hold your coffee cup between your hands, a distraction from the intense man pinning you down with those dark eyes. His black leather jacket accentuated his big shoulders, the buzz cut on the top of his head making him appear meaner than he actually was. Namjoon was older, you could tell. It scared you, but in the way rollercoasters make you nervous, or in the way thunder cracked in the night, somewhere far away, miles and miles from you. Bark with no bite.

“(Y/N),” you reply, licking your dry lips.

He follows the movement. “Pretty—(Y/N),” he tries it in his mouth, the sound sinful, inviting. “It’s beautiful.”

He sees your cheeks flush crimson, your head dropping to hide. Namjoon is an intuitive person, a risk-taking man. His fingers reach out, his index lifting your face to look at him. Your breathing has changed, you’re not accustomed to flirting, much less compliments from strangers, it’s all there for him to see. His innocent baby. He’d take his time with you. You deserved nothing less—he’d give you the fucking world, if you so wished.

“Are you a lover of books?” You ask, wanting to break the incantation, disperse the intensity of the moment.

His hand drops, the touch that lit a fire inside of you burning still, bright and strong heading lower, in between your legs, gone in an instant. You mourned for it, yearned for his hand to come back, touch you somewhere else. Your thoughts were shameless, your deepest desires but a breath away.

“You could say that,” he sips from his cup, calm and collected, legs crossed, studying you. “I’m a writer.”

“No way!” You exclaim, your cute reaction eliciting a laugh out of him. How adorable, he thinks, watching your nose scrunch up, your small, fuckable mouth curving in a smile that knocks the wind out of him.

“What about you, angel?”

“I’m a sophomore in college. Literature.”

Of course you are, his smart girl. He needs you to know, before he proceeds. He needs you to vocally say it’s okay for him to court you, to make you his. He won’t lay another finger on you until you do so.

“Sweetheart, you understand the age gap between us, don’t you?”

The part you dreaded. The truth. “Yes,” you say loud enough for just him to hear.

Namjoon leaves his now cold drink on the table, leans forward, forearms resting on top of his knees, fingers lacing together, a serious expression on his flawless face. Is this how it happens, you think? One day, out of the blue, no warning, no signs? Love, plainly in sight, asking you to accept it? You can’t say no. You don’t want to say no, knowing the difficulties, the struggles that entails.

“One word of yours and I’m out of your life. You’re holding the reigns,” he explains, but his eyes are terrified of you rejecting this, of scorning him, of sending him away after he’s found you, an oasis after a long dry desert.

He wants to love you madly. He wants to fuck you senseless, and ruin you for any other man. Most of all, he wants you to want the same things. Eight years isn’t a lot, but it’s a lifetime apart.

“You—you like me?” Your lips fall open, your chest deflates.

Oh, sweetheart, you might not be ready for what I feel for you, what I’m planning to do to you—it’s beyond words. Beyond reason.

“As soon as I saw you. I’m not a talkative person, (Y/N), I don’t walk up to just any girl.” There go those eyes again, haunting your soul, turning you inside out.

You blink, surprised at his honesty, at the bluntness of his words. In your twenty years on this earth, you’ve never been more sure of anything. This man will show you things you’ve never seen before, take you to places you’ve only dreamed of. He’s experienced, he’s an all rounded person.

He’s handsome. His mouth begs to be kissed.

“I like you too,” you admit, but refuse to meet his gaze.

He can’t have that. His fingers shoot out again, gently bringing your face level to his. Rain droplets release themselves from the puffy clouds. You don’t react to any of it, hypnotized under him, under his irresistible touch.

“It will be more than that. I need to know if you’ll be able to handle it, pretty girl. I’m not going to be your high school boyfriend.”

“I understand.” Your thighs clench together, your breathing erratic.

Namjoon notices, of course he does. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

Your eyelashes flutter, the red painting your cheeks turning a shade darker, your skin hot under his palm. He’s closer than ever, this broad man asking if he can take care of you. You’re endeared. Your heart is weak.

“I’m—no. A boy in my senior year,” you reply, embarrassed. Excited.

His eyes flash, something dark stirring in them, before it’s gone instantly. Jealousy. But, why? You couldn’t have possibly known, and even then…the danger. The forbidden. No, that couldn’t have been it.

Why hadn’t you waited? Who dared touched you before him? His muse, his perfect girl. Thoughts that had no place being voiced out loud, in fear of sounding insane. He would never admit to them.

“Then tell me pretty baby, have you ever been fucked up against a wall?”

His lips were but a breath away. You wanted to give in so badly, anything he wanted, you’d become pudding in his hands, melt away if that meant you’d be with him, if that meant he’d take you with him everywhere. His question. You stayed silent.

“Use your words, (Y/N). I’m not doing anything without your consent.”

You were so wet. So incredibly wet. If only he knew the influence his words had on you… He only had to reach a hand under your dress, touch your core. Then he’d realize just how inexperienced you truly were.

“Never,” you whisper.

You exchanged breaths, your eyes falling shut in the thought of his lips on yours, and it almost happened, the ghost of them faintly pressing, a gentle caress, before he pulls away completely, his hand finding yours, pulling you up with him.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea what you just did to me,” an arm wrapping around your waist, bringing you closer, your head at level with his chest, a man, standing before you, asking to have you.

“I should wait, I should take you out and make sure you’re fed, take care of you, every fucking inch of you, before I even begin to think—do you want this?” His voice is vibrating, filled with his desire, breath now tickling your ear, a whisper between lovers.

You just met Namjoon. You don’t know anything about him, nothing but your attraction to him. Your body’s reaction. So what if this was a bad decision? He didn’t look like a bad guy. Anais Nin wasn’t second guessing herself when she fell into an affair with Henry Miller. It just happened, their souls spoke to each other clearly. Could this be what was happening?

You wanted him inside you. You wanted what he offered, every bit of it. Yes, yes, yes.

“Take me with you, Namjoon.”

Together you run, belongings forgotten; the rain had turned from a faint whispering to a thundering roar in a split second, and it didn’t take long for the both of you to get completely drenched in it, tasting sky water, your small hand in his bigger one, holding tight, fingers intertwining.

He only had to look back once. Your dress was see-through, he could see your white undergarments, the silk of your panties, the cups of your bra. Namjoon growled, a guttural noise boiling from his throat. Immediately, he pulled you in between two buildings, a narrow alleyway leading to apartments’ fire escapes unraveling in the length of it.

Leading you under a small shed, he made sure you were against the wall, covered, while he let his arms rest above your head, your bodies touching. He looked down at you, his breathing labored, and he saw the skin glistening, the fabric sticking on every curve, those pink lips open, fast breaths exhaled.

He kisses you, then. Takes your lips as his own, traps you in his embrace. You taste like cold rain, but when his tongue slips past, there’s hints of coffee with milk. Namjoon smiles against your mouth, hands getting lost in your hair, steadying themselves at the nape of your neck, cupping your jaw, your chin—you fit right into him, so small, so precious. He’s going to love corrupting you, tainting you.

“Has anyone ever touched you…here?” His fingers bunch your dress up, dip under it, over your slick. You gasp—he marvels at your expression.

“No? Baby talk to me, use your pretty mouth,” he kisses you again, his digits moving over your panties. You’re moving with them, rubbing against them, it’s all wet wet wet—

“No one.” Your nails dig into his jacket. He sighs dreamily; you’re a vision for him. An angel send.

“Did that boy not know how to please you, baby? He just shoved his fucking dick in you carelessly?” His voice grew rough, anger rippling through him. “You deserve so much better than that, sweetheart. You deserve to be loved, to be caressed…”

With one hand slipping inside your panties, fingers curling, entering you slowly, the other one ran up and down your thigh, gripping at your waist, snaking its way to the small of your back, and back down. You couldn’t focus on anything but the pumping movements inside you, the long digits bringing you pleasure, making your cunt ache, clench around them.

Namjoon was hiding you from view with his entire body. This was only for him to see, but it also served as a test. To see how far you were willing to go with him.

“You’re doing so well, my sweet girl. So tight, so wet for me… I want to taste you, baby, I want to inhale you. Will you let me?”

Your moans were music to his ears. They started as low pants, your hand blocking most of them, your cheeks that familiar pink shade. He saw it happen, as his fingers curled a specific way, the way your legs fell open wider, the way your voice turned a pitch higher than before, unable to hold back, helpless against your pleasure. Namjoon was rock hard, stifled in his pants.

But that would come shortly. First, he needed to show you—what he can do. What you could have every single day, everywhere, as soon as you spoke the words. He’d cater to your every need, be whatever you wanted him to be. As long as he could have you, take you, own you.

A smack on your ass. Your eyes shot open, staring wide at him. He lifted you up at once, arm under those plump cheeks, his fingers still fucking your cunt vigorously. You yelped, held onto his shoulders in fear of falling, but quickly grew overwhelmed, your volume rising. Fuck him, you’re so fucking hot.

“Tell Daddy, my sweet girl—will you let me have a taste of your cunt?”

“Oh, please,” you whined, your head falling in the crook of his neck, your thoughts a jumbled mess. “Please.”

He needn’t be told twice. With your feet planted firmly on the ground again, he removed his hand from your panties, kneeling down in front of you, rain sipping through him, as he lifted your dress up. Namjoon looked up at you through his eyelashes, before he ripped that silk right off you, diving right into your slick.

Divine. He’s had a lot of sex, has tasted a lot of women, but none could ever compare to you, to your sweet fucking cunt. It was pure Heaven. And the way your back curved against the wall, pushing his head into you, his tongue swiping your wetness, sucking your clit—it was enough to make you cum. He slurped all of it up, fingers finding their way again into your warm hole. He’d blow, he fucking swears. Your beautiful voice moaning out his name, wet all over, a Goddess for him, as he laps your intoxicating juices. He drinks you up, he makes it his life’s mission.

“Fucking tell me, sweetheart, has anyone ever had a lick of this pussy? You know it belongs to me now, don’t you?”

You nod your head, losing your mind. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and you’re convulsing this hard. His baby.

“Words.”

“Yes, daddy, yes! Please,” you sob, “please…fuck me, please…”

He locks you in place, his hands on your ass, determined to make you cum with his tongue, before his cock is anywhere near you. His impatient girl, so lost in feeling, such a slut for him, for what he’s giving you. He’s never had such a perfect woman.

When he started working both his fingers and mouth again, this time aggressively, his only motive was to get that pussy to drench him, to have your cum dripping from his chin. And it did just that when his thumb flicked over your clit relentlessly, tongue moving just underneath, three fingers deep. Your nails dug into his scalp, your entire body convulsing. He rubbed his stubby jaw on your lips, inhaling deeply. Your scent, uniquely yours—he now knew how you smelled. Truly. He would never be able to let you go.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re killing me. Ready for me? Ready to give me another one?” He muttered, hands on your breasts, dropping kisses on your neck, before unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants. “I love the way you cum. I can’t wait to have you on my bed, have my way with you. You’ll let me, yes baby? You’ll let Daddy defile you, pretty thing?”

You looked down at his girth, swallowing thickly. Namjoon chuckled darkly, allowing you to see what would enter you. He pumped himself a couple times, his other hand rubbing your pussy, making sure you were wet enough for him. You just looked so fucking innocent, all fucked out. He attacked your mouth once again, biting down on your lip.

“Do you taste yourself? My delicious fucking girl.”

He enters you slowly, brows furrowed, savoring the tightness. Once he bottoms out, he stills in you, letting you get used to him, his will made of iron. Your fingers wrap around his biceps as you take a deep breath through the sting of his cock.

“Are you okay, baby?” He asks, worried.

“Yes,” you reply at once. “Go on.”

He hikes your thigh up and around his torso, as he lifts you up. You wrap around him and that’s fucking it—he loses it. His cock brutally starts pistoling into you, holding you tight against him. You meet his thrusts halfway, before it becomes too much for you to handle, instead becoming his personal little fuck doll to pound senseless. And he does. His moves are exact; sharp, and precise. He’s hitting everything inside you, the position as well as the thickness of his cock filling you up to the brim, until all you can think is him him him, inside your cunt, fucking you dumb.

“Call me by my name, sweetheart,” he pants in your ear, bouncing you on his dick.

“Namjoon,” you weakly moan, your breaths coming short, on the brink of passing out.

“My name,” he repeats harshly, ramming into you once, twice—

You throw your head back in ecstasy. “Daddy! Fuck, don’t stop! Keep fucking me please, please, I’m so fucking close daddy, please!”

“That’s my fucking angel.”

He does just that, until he can feel you spasming, until you’re screaming, begging, crying, coming on his cock, his desperate whore, getting fucked so good, isn’t she, bounce on my fucking dick, baby, ride it out, that’s right, milk me, fucking own me, my sweet fucking baby, you’re so beautiful, so fucking hot, give me a kiss—

“Where do you want me, baby? Tell Daddy, fuck you’re clenching me so goddamn hard right now, sweetheart, please.”

“Inside, please inside, I want your cum inside of me, please,” you beg, and he almost fucking chokes on his spit.

His thrusts are fast, hard and sloppy now, bruising your pussy, chasing after his own release, his mouth filthy—you want me inside this fucking cunt, don’t you my perfect fucking baby, my little slut, you’re gonna let daddy paint your walls white, won’t you, squeeze me dry, baby, fuck, come on, clench those tight fucking walls, goddamn you, I want to die in this pussy, please baby—

His arms tighten around you as he comes, and you let him; you let him calm down, for his breathing to even out, as he slips out of you, and carefully unwraps your legs from his hips, planting kisses on your shoulders, water dripping from his hair. The thunderstorm still hasn’t passed, raging on beyond the shelter of this shed.

“I’ve never experienced anything like this,” you confess as he fixes your hair, your dress, adjusts the straps, gives you his jacket to make up for the lack of underwear, and even though it’s several sizes too big on you—he cares.

It wasn’t just a lie to have a quickie with you. He took his time to explore your body, to study what makes you tick, what sends you over the edge. You didn’t even know his last name, but he knew his way around your pussy the best, better than you it felt like.

His eyes are fond, staring down in adoration. “I want to make you feel good for as long as you let me, sweetheart. I’m not here to hurt you.”

You hug him, then, your arms not quite reaching all around him. But it’s enough for him. More than enough. He thinks he’ll fall in love with you so easily. You’re the most adorable thing he’s ever witnessed. He wants to hide you away, put you in his pocket and carry you everywhere.

“What’s your last name?” You ask innocently, head still buried in his chest.

He barks a laugh out, squeezing you in him, the vibration of it radiating through you. “Should’ve mentioned it, huh? It’s Kim, angel. Kim Namjoon.”

“Kim Namjoon,” you try it. It sounds…wholesome. “Hi, Kim Namjoon.”

“Hello, baby.”

The two of you stood there for a long time, waiting the storm out in each other’s arms. Namjoon couldn’t stop smiling, didn’t want to, never wanted to, ever again.

You couldn’t stop staring at him—he felt like the sun peeking after the gray of the clouds. Warm, important.

#bts #namjoon #bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #kpop smut #bts x reader #namjoon imagine #bts imagines #bts scenarios #namjoon scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #.mine

[7brownsuga7]

Bts when jealous -

Thanks to @crabby-libra for the suggestion 💕🫶🏽Kinda short because I didn’t know what else to write lmfao

Namjoon:

• This will change his whole demeanour. Like he’s gonna be cold and won’t talk much, will definitely go mute until he musters up the courage to talk to you about his feelings. (Will take him some time because he wants to work through his emotions and feelings first)

• He can’t help being jealous. He just feels too much, too deeply.

• Will talk to you about how he’s feeling after and explain what made him jealous.

• Jaw clenching and eyebrow raise

• Is really a big baby and will also show his jealousy by sulking

• GUILT!! He will feel so guilty afterwards for acting the way he did. And will make up for it. (Constant cuddles/kisses, gifts etc)

Jin:

• Will definitely let you know about it. Is 100% blunt and honest with how he feels

• But will also probably tell you he’s jealous but won’t tell you why.

• Like he’s gonna say snarky comments and catch an attitude real bad.

• Very petty and will give you the cold shoulder, but in a dramatic way.

• & he will just overdramatise everything but will still want you around him. He just has to be dramatic first.

• He’s gonna be meannnnn! Especially if he’s jealous about another person, he will be kinda bitchy towards them (but in the most Jin way lfmao)

Yoongi:

• Silent but tries to act like he’s okay.

• Will definitely play it off like he’s not bothered. Loads of shoulder shrugging and halfassed smiles. Meanwhile my guy is seething lfmao

• He hates feeling jealous so he will mostly keep it to himself. But if you ask about it then he will tell you and you both will probably have a straightforward conversation about it where he tells you how he feels and why, and where you both work it out.

• Loads of side eyes though. Like he’s watching the fuck out of you.

Hobi:

• He’s gonna laugh about it. Yes he’s jealous but he’s not gonna take it seriously (or at least try too)

• He will tell himself how silly he’s being but still can’t help feel the jealousy in his body.

• Will try to act like he’s okay but deep down, he’s mad as fuck. He just doesn’t want you to worry or doubt yourself.

• Eye rolls and pouts

• Tries to distract himself

• Will confide in others about how he’s feeling to see if he’s not tripping.

Jimin:

• This jealousy is eating him alive

• Loads of side eyes and death glares

• Eyebrow raises and petty comments.

• If he’s jealous about another person with you then he’s going to be all over you, hands on you, arm resting on you. Just to let the other person know that they don’t have a chance.

• Might be times where he might try to make you jealous in return.

• He kind of gets possessive lfmao

• And when it gets too much for him he will pull you to the side and tell you what’s bothering him. All said with a sulky voice.

Taehyung:

• Will tell you he’s jealous but won’t tell you why for a while because he wants to be dramatic for a bit.

• Will sulk and moan about it.

• Will eventually tell you why he’s jealous while also seeking for some reassurance.

• He’s going to talk to everyone and anyone about how jealous he is. He don’t give a fuck honestly. He needs to get it off his chest and will definitely bitch about the other person. But don’t worry he won’t bitch about you of course.

Jungkook:

• He will sulk and pout or be moody. No in between

• He will want to talk to you about it but a part of him doesn’t want to say anything so he might just shut down.

• He hates feeling jealous, so you will see his whole demeanour change. I see him becoming more silent and closed off. But it can range from that to him being totally sulky.

• He will glare the other person down

• Tongue in cheek and eyebrow twitch.

• A sly smirk and shake of his head.

• He will be moody for sure but will also still be around you. He will just be more touchy than he already is. Like he’s making sure everyone knows you’re together.

#bts #bts army #bts headcanons #bts bangtan boys #jungkook bts #jin bts #suga bts #jimin bts #bts v #namjoon bts #hoseok bts #bts scenarios #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #bts jin #jimin #taehyung scenarios #namjoon scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts x you #jin headcanons #taehyung headcanons #jimin headcanons #namjoon headcanons #bts boyfriend material #taehyung boyfriend material #yoongi boyfriend material #yoongi headcanons #bangtan sonyeondan

[solarwonux]

Business Proposal Masterlist

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do” pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, namjoon is pretty much not the nicest dude lol (will add more as it progresses), kinda sugar daddy au but not really. It will make sense I promise.

Rating: mature, 18+

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

AO3

MASTERLIST

WATTPAD

Hello everyone, I don't know why I didn't make a master list for this story in the first place, but here you are. I hope everyone who comes across this story understands that I am not able to update as frequently as I used when I was in quarantine. For that reason I do have a taglist so that you guys can be notified of when I post. If you're interested in being added just lmk through this post or an ask.

I also may not reply to a lot of the comments because I kind off get overwhelmed easily just know that I do read them all, and that each one holds a special place in my heart.

One more thing: Since I live in Korea all my updates will be at 9 am kst, which I think is around 8pm est and 5pm pst.

Thank you.xx

updated whenever I can &lt;3

#bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts #bts angst #bts jungkook #bts fic #bts army #bts namjoon #namjoon scenarios #namjoon smut #kim namjoon #Namjoon angst #Namjoon fluff #namjoon x reader #namjoon bts

[mykoreanlove]

my only one

Your engagement party was a full blast - the pittoreske venue was filled with the people you loved most. Everybody was dancing, drinking and celebrating your upcoming wedding.

You had been shaking firm hands and giving out heartfelt hugs all night long, so you snuck out onto the balcony to take a break.

The balcony was covered in golden fairy lights, slightly illuminating the breathtaking view in front of you.

You didn’t turn around as you noticed the door open, you had a gut feeling who it would be.

Strong arms hugged you from behind and a raspy voice whispered in your ear - your home had found you.

„Hey“, he whispered, „you okay?“

You nodded silently and grabbed his arm, squeezing lightly.

„Am now“, you smiled.

Namjoon chuckled and hid his face in the crook of your neck, resting silently for a moment or two.

„You know… you can still say no.“, he stated nervously.

You laughed out loud, filling his ear with the vibration of your amusement.

„Now why would I do that?“

Namjoon hugged you even tighter, merging into one once more.

„So you really mean it, huh?“

„Joon, you’re stuck with me. Forever.“

„Forever? Really?“

„Yes, you dumbass, forever. Were you really doubting?“

He let out a deep sigh, as if he was finally releasing the anxiety he carried in his heart.

„It’s just that sometimes I feel like this is too good to be true. You’re too good to be true, y/n.“

You pushed his head back gently and turned around, looking up into his saddened eyes.

„Listen up, big boy. I love you and you love me. It’s supposed to feel this good.“

You saw his cheeks redden, as he averted his gaze embarrassed. You reached for his big hands and squeezed them as tightly as you could.

„I’m not running away, Joon. I know you are the one for me.“

He turned to face you and smiled warmly.

„The one?“

Namjoon was a confident man, taking extreme pride in his talents and intellect but the slightest doubt could turn him into an anxious mess. Especially if the doubt was about you.

You nodded cheerfully, while making your point.

„When did you realize?“

„Pretty early on“, you said and turned around again, observing the beautiful landscape in front of you.

„Hey, wait. Tell me when! Please, y/n“, he whined into your ear as his arms found your waist again.

You let your head fall back against his broad chest and smiled, remembering those days fondly.

„Do you remember when we first met? How we used to be?“

He nodded.

„We were inseparable back then, always hanging out with each other or calling or texting. It felt like we were obsessed with getting to know each other“, you mused happily.

„That didn’t change“, he said as he left soft kisses on your neck.

„One time when we were on the phone we had a conversation that sealed the deal for me. From then on I just knew that I would marry you some day.“

„What did I say, baby?“

„Oh god, I can actually quote it. How lame am I?“, you laughed embarrassed.

„The lamest. But I love you for that“, he chuckled against your skin. „Now tell me.“

„You said you were proud of me. It was super random and I didn’t understand why. I had to ask for clarification.“, you reminisced.

„Wait, I remember that call.“

You stayed silent for a second, replaying the situation in your mind.

„I am proud of you because you’re doing so great, y/n. Eating your veggies. Drinking your water. Taking your vitamins. Going for walks. Taking care of your mind. Staying positive. That deserves all my proud, y/n.“, you quoted him.

Namjoon stood quietly behind you, already knowing where this was going.

„I didn’t tell you at the time but I was facing a lot of shit. A lot of heavy stuff that made my life a living hell. And I was not doing fine. At all. Taking care of myself, even the simplest things, were a heavy burden to me. But I was trying my best and yet somehow you caught that.“

You turned around once more and looked into his loving eyes, stroking his cheek as you exclaimed your love for him.

„You didn’t need me to articulate my pain. You just knew. It’s like you saw right through me and decided to stay anyway. To give me my time to come to you instead of pressuring me into telling you.“

Namjoon‘s eyes were filled with tears as he listened closely, this was the first time you ever spoke about it that candidly.

„You sensed the war within me and provided me with peace. To me, Joonie, there’s no greater act of love. And I promise to return that love every single day. If you let me.“

Namjoon wiped away the tears hastily, but you stopped him.

You reached up to him and kissed him, tasting his salty tears on his sweet lips. In this moment you were sure that this wouldn’t be the last time for salty kisses but you didn’t mind. As long as you got him by your side, you were good.

Your Joon. Your home. Your only one.

#mykoreanlove #bts imagines #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #rm bts #bts namjoon #namjoon x you #namjoon drabble #namjoon fluff #namjoon one shot #namjoon angst #namjoon fanfic #namjoon scenarios #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagine #bts x y/n #bts x fem!reader #bts x you #bts x reader #rm x y/n #rm x you #rm fluff #rm fanfic #rm x reader #rm fic #bts romance #bts rm

[syuga-s]

when i'm quiet on the other side, know that i'm loving you

w.c. around 12k 🤭 pairing. Namjoon x female!reader (also Jungkook & reader used to be together) genre. Smut. friends to lovers-ish, pwp, angst (bc it wouldn't be me if there wasn't angst lmao), more pwp, AND FLUFF OFC a/n. NSFW MDNI !!! curse words, alcohol mention, sexual content (fingering, unprotected vaginal penetration, oral m&f!receiving, creampie) ENJOY, let me know if I missed anything okay? <3

You couldn’t help but wonder how different things might have been if you had made a different choice that night so many months ago.

“Did you go out tonight?”

“I didn’t, you?”

“Nah, it’s way too cold tonight, lol,” “I want us to go for a drink though”

“Last week was way colder than tonight lmao”, “when?”

“Tomorrow, is that okay?”

“Yeah tomorrow works, I’m free after 5”

“Pick you up at 7 then.”

Seven moons waxed and waned, each night bearing the weight of a silent longing that lingered in the spaces between heartbeats. In the quiet of those months, the echoes of your last conversation with Jungkook reverberated like whispered secrets carried on the wind, haunting yet distant. Despite growing even closer with Namjoon, part of you remained tethered to the memories of what could have been.

You didn’t remember how this started. Until you honestly stopped to think about it, that is.

You met Namjoon through some mutual friends. Every time you went out with them, he seemed to be there. At first, you didn’t think much of him. He was a cool guy, and all your friends were in love with him, but to you, he was just Namjoon.

Your heart was set on someone else, that being one of the main reasons for your way of thinking.

You thought that Jungkook was finally out of your life. After all those months where he kept you hoping that you’d be together, you opened your eyes and understood that being with him was taking you nowhere.

It wasn’t after two years of being on and off with Jungkook that this mess started to happen. But this isn’t about him anymore. It’s what has been happening ever since.

Several months passed, and you had a trip coming up to Barcelona. Not even a day passed when you found out Namjoon and another one of your mutual friends were in the exact same city as you, at the same time.

You were with some of your college friends. You’d been here for about two days, and all your expectations from this week were below average—until that text came to you.

“I want to see you.”

As Namjoon’s text message flashed on your phone screen, a wave of mixed emotions coursed through you. Memories of seeing him at mutual gatherings, his magnetic charisma, and the undeniable chemistry you both shared suddenly flooded your mind. You couldn’t deny the thrill that his message brought. So, you agreed to meet, not really knowing what to expect.

That night in Barcelona, you and Namjoon decided to explore the city’s vibrant nightlife. The streets were alive with the energy of locals and tourists alike, and the possibilities seemed endless. As you walked through the illuminated streets, the conversation flowed effortlessly.

Namjoon turned to you with a playful glint in his eye. “Barcelona sure knows how to stay alive at night, right?”

You nodded, taking in the enchanting atmosphere. “It does, another city that never sleeps.”

That particular night in Barcelona, you and Namjoon didn’t dwell on the complexities of your dynamic. Instead, you focused on the here and now, indulging in the city’s vibrant nightlife. The streets were alive with the pulsating rhythms of music, and the possibilities for adventure seemed endless.

As you hopped from one lively club to another, the music enveloped you, and you both let loose. You danced together, swaying to the intoxicating beats with occasional laughter and shared glances that needed no words. Namjoon’s occasional hand on your waist or his deep voice softly spoken into your ear amidst the music created a sense of electric chemistry.

In the middle of it all, you reached a state of drunken bliss where the world seemed to blur, and nothing else mattered but the man in front of you. The two of you laughed uncontrollably at inside jokes that would be etched in your mind forever.

It was a night of liberation. The beauty of Barcelona’s nightlife and the intoxication of the moment allowed you to escape into a realm of pure joy.

As the night peaked, the connection between you and Namjoon became more intimate. The night transitioned seamlessly from the vibrant energy of the city to the warmth and comfort of Namjoon’s room.

As you stood on the balcony of Namjoon’s room, overlooking the twinkling city lights below, you felt the warmth of his body radiating towards you. You leaned back against the railing, your heart pounding as you looked up at him. He was so close, yet so far away.

Namjoon’s gaze locked onto you, and he could see the desire burning within your eyes. He felt his own heart quicken, his breath hitching in his throat as he moved closer to you. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

“Namjoon,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle kiss. You melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you deepened the kiss. You could feel his heart pounding in time with your own, bodies pressed together in a dance as old as time.

As you broke apart, gasping for breath, Namjoon trailed his fingers down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, and he knew that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, eyes shining with desire. “Yes,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I want this. I want you.”

Namjoon’s heart skipped a beat at your words. He leaned in again, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of you for the first time. You couldn’t help but moan softly, your body trembling with desire.

He pulled away from the kiss, his breath coming in short gasps. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice filled with both awe and desperation.

He guided you back to his bed. You looked up at him through hooded eyes, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. “Please,” you begged in a soft voice. “I need you.”

That was all it took to push Namjoon over the edge. He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you fiercely, pouring every ounce of pent-up desire into the kiss.

His hands moved down to the hem of your shirt, and he lifted it over your head in one swift motion, tossing it aside without a second thought. His gaze roamed your exposed skin hungrily, like a starving man who had just been presented with a feast.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation as he traced the outline of your bra with his fingertips. “You’ve always been so, so beautiful.”

You found yourselves pausing your hunger for a few minutes, basking in each other’s presence. You ended up leaning into the comfort of Namjoon’s arms. Both halted the intensity of the abrupt contact, with comfortable silences filling the gaps as you both lost yourself in the city sounds playing softly in the background. The dim light from the room cast a warm glow on Namjoon’s face, highlighting his features and making him even more irresistible.

Feeling a sudden rush of boldness, you moved closer to him, your body instinctively seeking his warmth. His eyes met yours, a silent question lingering in them. He pulled you even closer into his embrace, your bodies molding together as if they were two pieces of a puzzle.

His scent enveloped you, a mix of his cologne and something uniquely him. Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt his breath tickling the skin of your neck. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, causing a shiver to run down your spine. This was new, yet it felt so right.

With a soft sigh, you let your head fall back, exposing the long line of your neck. Namjoon’s lips found that sensitive skin, tracing a path down to the hollow of your throat. His fingers continued their exploration, now sliding through your thighs.

You shivered at his touch, your body begging for more. “Namjoon,” you whispered, your voice husky with desire.

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of lust and tenderness. “Yes, y/n?”

“I want you to fuck me,” you confessed. Feeling bolder this time, you thought it was your turn to take your hands downtown. You dipped your hand into the hollow of his stomach before going down to trail kisses along the waistband of his pants. Namjoon groaned as he realized where this was headed.

Before he could protest, not that he would, you made quick work of undoing his belt to remove both it and his pants. Namjoon helped you undo them, his breath hitching as you wrapped your hand around his length. He was hard and ready, just as you were. Now fully exposed before you, he shifted uncomfortably under your gaze.

Catching onto his hesitation, you reassured him with a smile. “Don’t worry,” you said softly. “I think I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

Namjoon’s eyes softened as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve thought about you, too,” he confessed. “You have no idea.”

With a swift motion, you stepped out of your own jeans, too, kicking them aside.

You reached behind yourself to unclasp the bra and let it fall to the floor before pulling Namjoon’s shirt over his head and discarding it as well.

Now, almost completely naked, there you stood before him, your bodies mere inches apart. Namjoon’s hands rested on your hips, pulling you closer. His thumb traced circles on your hip bone, sending waves of pleasure through you.

Namjoon’s breath hitched in his throat. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the reaction you were able to elicit from him.

Time seemed to slow down as I took in the sight before me – this was real; he wanted me just as much as I wanted him now.

You went down on him and took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him deeper. Namjoon tangled his fingers in your hair, guiding you as you moved up and down on his length. The sight of you on your knees before him, taking him so willingly, was almost too much for him to handle.

“Shit,” he grunted, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily. “I’m gonna come too soon if you keep that up.”

You pulled away with a wicked smile, pressing yourself against Namjoon’s body. He could feel how wet you were even through the fabric of your panties, and he groaned in frustration.

“Why are we still wearing these?” he asked, his voice filled with need as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulled them down your legs.

Once you were both naked, Namjoon’s hand trailed downwards until it found its way between your legs. He ran a finger along your folds teasingly before slipping it inside of you.

You moaned softly at the feeling of being stretched by his finger. “I’m sure we can do more than that,” you begged in a needy voice.

Namjoon added a second finger, pumping them in and out of you at a steady pace. He curled his fingers upwards, searching for that sweet spot deep inside of you.

“God,” he groaned as he felt your walls clench around his fingers. “You’re so fucking tight.”

He continued to work his fingers inside of you until he felt your body start to shake with the first layer of your orgasm. Your back arched off the bed, and a loud moan escaped from your lips as pleasure made your body tremble.

Namjoon removed his fingers from your dripping wet core and brought them up to his mouth, sucking on them eagerly as he tasted your essence.

“You taste so good,” he said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation before moving downwards until he was positioned between your legs.

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your inner thigh before trailing a path of kisses up toward your throbbing center. His tongue flicked out and ran along your folds teasingly before zeroing in on your clit.

You gasped at the sensation of Namjoon’s warm tongue against your sensitive bud. He circled it slowly at first, the pressure increasing with every stroke. The combination of his skilled tongue and the way his hands were gripping the flesh of your thighs was driving you absolutely wild.

“Namjoon, stop,” you moaned, the sound of his name on your lips like a prayer. “I’m gonna cum again,”

Namjoon hummed against you in response, sending vibrations coursing through your body that pushed you right to the edge. His tongue moved faster and more insistently against your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy.

With one final flick of his tongue, you shattered into a million pieces beneath him. Your body convulsed with pleasure as wave after wave of bliss washed over you.

Namjoon lapped up every drop of your release, not wanting to miss a single drop of you. Once you had come down from your high, he climbed back up the bed and pulled you into his arms.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent as you basked in the afterglow of your passion. “You’re really good at that,” you said softly.

Namjoon pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You taste amazing. I couldn’t help myself,” he replied, his voice filled with genuine affection. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

You looked up at him with a smile and brushed a strand of hair away from his face. There was so much more that you wanted to say, but words were unnecessary at that moment.

Instead, you let your actions speak for themselves as you pulled Namjoon closer and kissed him deeply. The taste of yourself on his lips only served to fuel the fire that was still burning between you.

As the kiss deepened, Namjoon’s hand trailed downwards once again until it found its way between your legs. He could feel how wet you still were, and a surge of desire shot through him like electricity.

He positioned himself at your entrance and looked into your eyes for confirmation before slowly pushing inside of you. You moaned softly at the feeling of being stretched around him once again, nails digging into his shoulders as he filled every inch of you.

Namjoon began to move slowly at first, savoring every sensation as he thrust in and out of your dripping wet core. With each movement, he felt himself getting lost in an ocean that only the two of you could create together.

The rhythm quickly escalated. Your hips bucked against him, meeting each thrust with one of your own. The room was filled with the sounds of the bed creaking beneath you, skin slapping against skin, and moans mingling with whispers. It felt like time had ceased to exist as the world narrowed down to just the two of you, connected in every possible way.

The pace quickened as your bodies moved in perfect sync, building towards a shared climax that was just within reach. Namjoon’s thrusts became more urgent and desperate, like a man on the edge of sanity who was about to lose himself completely.

You could feel your walls clenching around him as an overwhelming sense of pleasure began to build deep within your core. “Namjoon,” you moaned, his name like a prayer on your lips. “I’m cu-”

With one final thrust, you both went hurtling over the edge together; your bodies shuddered and shook with the force of your release.

Eventually, the bliss receded, and you found yourselves once again floating back down to reality. Namjoon collapsed beside you and pulled you into his arms, holding onto you tightly as he tried to catch his breath.

“That was...” he trailed off, searching for the right words to describe what had just happened between you.

“Really fucking hot,” you supplied with a smile.

Hours after being together, you and Namjoon shared a cozy meal on his hotel room balcony, savoring Barcelona’s cuisine. With the city’s magic still lingering in the air, you both settled into a deep conversation about your shared passion for music.

As the minutes passed, you found yourselves planning to attend several concerts together in the coming weeks and months. The anticipation of sharing those experiences added another layer of intimacy to your thing.

You both lay intertwined in each other’s arms, cuddled in the dimly lit room. Fingers traced gentle patterns on each other’s skin, and you shared soft kisses that spoke volumes in their tenderness. That night was filled with smooth, whispered conversations, with playful moments of playing with each other’s hair.

Your time with Namjoon had an electric undercurrent that couldn’t be ignored. While not a romantic undertone, it was clear that there was a magnetic attraction between you two. You shared passionate moments, intimate conversations, and nights filled with desire that went beyond being ‘just friends.’

As you returned home, you both acknowledged the nature of your connection. A “friends with benefits” arrangement that allowed you to explore your feelings without the pressure of defining a full-blown relationship. The connection was intense, yet you hesitated to leap into something more serious.

You’d meet up when schedules allowed, enjoying each other’s company in and out of the bedroom. Your feelings for Namjoon were confusing, and you knew he felt the same way, so neither of you was ready to put a label on it.

As time passed, the relationship continued to evolve. It was a constant push and pull, a dance of desire and restraint. You shared everything with him, but the commitment to a traditional relationship still felt elusive.

Your life continued to grow more complex with each passing day. Not only were you navigating this with Namjoon and what you started doing after Barcelona, but you also had a history with Jungkook, and there already was a connection between these two men.

Jungkook, your on-again, off-again for the past two years, had been a source of both love and, of course, heartache in your life. It was a tumultuous relationship, filled with moments of intense connection followed by periods of emotional distance. He kept you dancing around the idea of commitment, yet he seemed reluctant to fully embrace it.

What made the situation even more difficult was the fact that Jungkook and Namjoon were very close friends. Your social circles had overlapped, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Jungkook had any inkling of your growing connection with Namjoon.

As you delved into the ‘benefits’ dynamic with Namjoon, it added a layer of secrecy to your life.

Your feelings for Jungkook have always been intense and genuine. He was the one you had envisioned a future with, and you longed for a committed, loving relationship. But Jungkook’s reluctance to settle down left you in a state of constant disappointment. He wanted the freedom to explore other options, yet he always kept you within arm’s reach, knowing he could turn to you whenever he pleased.

This cycle was taking a toll on you, causing not only the never-ending heartbreak but also a growing sense of frustration and exhaustion. It was clear to everyone, including your mutual friends, that you were deeply in love with Jungkook, but they also saw the toll it was taking on your well-being.

Namjoon, always so observant and compassionate, saw a glimmer of an opportunity. He understood the depths of your affection for Jungkook and sensed your growing disillusionment. He didn’t plan to interfere but couldn’t help but be drawn to your unique energy and the connection you two shared.

The situation was not of your making. Both Jungkook and Namjoon actively sought you out, and you, despite your love for Jungkook, found it challenging to resist the magnetic pull of your connection with Namjoon.

Jimin’s birthday was a pivotal moment. At that time, you and Jungkook had been mad at each other, tensions simmering beneath the surface. When you arrived at the bar to celebrate, you greeted everyone but Jungkook. The air was thick with unspoken words, and the distance between you was palpable.

Feeling the need for a moment of respite, you slipped away for a cigarette break, seeking solace in the night’s breeze. During this break, you found Taehyung, one of your close friends, who helped you calm down for the night.

Eventually, the group decided to move to another bar, and the atmosphere lightened as everyone indulged in the evening. The drinks flowed, and laughter filled the air. All was good again.

As the night drew to a close, Namjoon kindly offered to drive everyone home in his car. The group piled in, and it was cramped, to say the least. Amid the chaos, you found yourself sitting in Jungkook’s lap, something that was not your choice.

It was during this car ride that Jungkook’s emotional side emerged, fueled by alcohol. He revealed that he was leaving for another country for six months, a fact he had kept hidden from you. You were blindsided by this news and felt a surge of anger and frustration. How could he not have shared this with you before?

Throughout the evening, Namjoon had been watching you closely. He observed how you barely interacted with Jungkook since your arrival and acknowledged the underlying tension. However, he couldn’t deny the surge of anger he felt when you ended up in Jungkook’s lap, even if it was out of necessity.

In the aftermath of Jimin’s birthday, Jungkook planned a farewell dinner for the group on the following Friday. The dinner was heartwarming, even in those conditions. Afterward, you all decided to go for drinks, further complicating everything.

The bar you hit up after dinner turned into a bit of a downer for you. While Jungkook was busy having a blast with everyone else, he seemed to be totally ignoring you. And then, to top it off, he started cozying up to his best friend on the dance floor – talk about a buzzkill. You tried to play it cool, but deep down, it was eating you up inside. Your head was saying, I won’t get jealous, I won’t get jealous, but he kept laughing with her and holding her close to him.

You tried to distract yourself by keeping yourself glued to Taehyung and Jimin, but it was tough to keep up with their conversation when your mind was in a whirl. Chiming in occasionally was getting more complicated, so you let a bitter laugh at the ceiling, excusing yourself to go to the bathroom for a bit, asking your friends to keep your drink safe. Staring at yourself in the mirror, trying to get rid of your pathetic, sad eyes, you felt like you were stuck in some cheesy rom-com.

You couldn’t bear yourself anymore. You knew it wasn’t the girl’s fault, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of what if something was happening between them. You began spiraling, knowing you had to leave the place.

At the risk of seeing Jungkook’s silhouette on your way back to the table, you decided it was time to make a quick exit. Grabbing your purse, you muttered to your friends, “I’ll be right back,” under the pretense of needing some air, and dashed off before anyone could stop you.

Namjoon saw the whole picture. He was aware of your every move and how quick you left the bar. He worried at the thought of your utter goodbye for the night.

In the past days leading up to tonight, Namjoon found himself wrestling with conflicting emotions. On one hand, he longed to be closer to you, to break through the walls you had built around your heart. Yet, on the other hand, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the thought of finding happiness in Jungkook’s absence.

When you stepped outside, the weight of the night’s events hit you like a ton of bricks. You stood there on the sidewalk, feeling lost and overwhelmed. You instantly knew it was too much to actually leave like that. Pulling out your lighter and a cigarette, you took a moment to gather your thoughts. It was one of those times when you wished to call your mom and ask her, “can you pick me up?” but I guess ‘we’re too old for that.’ The air around you wasn’t even cold, but everything felt unbearably heavy.

As you stood there, lost in your thoughts, hard to believe that the asshole you love is having the time of his life. Good for him. You kept rambling. Are you really that detestable? How could he be having the time of his life while you were left feeling so insignificant? It stung to realize that he hadn’t even bothered to tell you about his plans to go for half a year. It was like a slap in the face, a painful reminder of how little you seemed to matter to him.

And the fucking icing on the cake is that tonight, you don’t even exist in his world.

As you were spiraling into a whirlwind of more negative emotions, your phone suddenly rang, jolting you out of your thoughts. Glancing at the screen, you saw ‘Joonie’ flashing back at you. With a sigh, you extinguished your cigarette and answered the call.

“Hello?” you greeted, your voice tinged with a hint of frustration.

From the background noise, you could tell that Namjoon was evidently still at the bar. “Care to tell me why you left?” he asked, his tone laced with concern.

You couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. “I didn’t leave. I’m just outside having a chat with my cig,” you replied sarcastically.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line before Namjoon spoke again. “And you didn’t think to include me? I’ve been meaning to talk to that guy,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

As Namjoon’s voice filled your ears, a mixture of relief and surprise washed over you. You hadn’t expected him to call, let alone humor you in your self-imposed exile outside the bar.

“I didn’t realize you were such good friends with cigarettes,” you replied, a hint of amusement creeping into your voice despite the heaviness of the situation.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Namjoon chuckled softly. “Well, you know me. Always looking to fraternize,” he quipped, his tone warm and lighthearted.

You couldn’t help but smile at his attempt to lighten the mood, grateful for his presence even from a distance. “Thanks for calling Joonie,” you said, the affectionate nickname slipping from your lips without a second thought.

“Anytime,” Namjoon replied, his voice softening with sincerity. “But jokes aside, are you okay?”

The concern in Namjoon’s voice tugged at your heartstrings, reminding you once again of the depth of his care for you. “I’ll be fine,” you reassured him, although the words felt hollow even to your own ears.

There was another moment of silence, punctuated only by the distant strains of music drifting from the bar. “Do you want me to come out there?” Namjoon asked, his voice laced with anxiety.

As much as you wanted to say yes, to feel the comfort of Namjoon’s presence beside you, you couldn’t bring yourself to burden him with your own shit. “No, it’s okay,” you replied, forcing a note of conviction into your voice. “I just needed some air.”

Namjoon didn’t press the issue. He knew what was happening and understood the meaning of your words. Instead, he simply said, “Alright, but get back inside already. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Even during your turmoil, Namjoon was there for you. “Okaaaaayyyy dad,” you replied, full of sarcasm.

Namjoon laughed softly, his voice carrying a warmth that eased the ache in your chest. “I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to come back in.”

As you made your way back inside the bar to the table where Jimin and Taehyung were seated, their expressions were a mixture of sympathy and awareness. “Are you okay?” Jimin asked, his voice soft but filled with genuine worry.

You forced a smile, attempting to mask the turmoil raging inside you. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, taking your long-forgotten and watered-down drink in one go, waving your hand dismissively. But they could see through the facade, sensing the underlying chaos that threatened to consume you.

Without a word, Namjoon approached the table. He placed his hand at the small of your back, offering silent support and understanding. In that moment, you felt grateful for his unwavering presence amidst your own drama.

You leaned against Namjoon’s torso and rubbed his chest before excusing yourself from the table once more. This time, however, you didn’t head for the exit. Instead, you made your way to the bar to order a considerable amount of drinks, already determined to stop feeling this level of shitty.

As you stood at the bar, ordering your drinks, you couldn’t shake the unease lingering within you. The noise of the crowded bar seemed to fade into the background as you wrestled with your thoughts, your mind consumed by the events of the evening.

On the other hand, Namjoon was careful to avoid the watchful eyes of your friends, who were scattered throughout the crowded bar. He trailed after you with a sense of purpose, his steps deliberate yet discreet. When he saw you at the bar, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist from behind.

At that moment, Namjoon’s heart swelled. Part of him wanted to console you for your evident emotional state. But another part couldn’t deny the selfish desire to hold you close, to revel in the warmth of your presence, even as you struggled with your own demons.

Leaning in, Namjoon gently kissed your right cheek, a silent offering of reassurance and understanding. To his relief, you sighed softly, your eyes closing as you leaned into his embrace, resting your head against his shoulder without a second thought.

“You look way too hot tonight to be feeling like this,” he whispered softly, his words a tender acknowledgment of your heartache. Despite the seriousness of the situation, his tone showed a hint of playful sincerity.

A voice interrupted the moment, cutting through the noise like a knife. Neither of you noticed Jungkook’s approach until it was too late. Drunk and unsteady on his feet, Jungkook stumbled over to the bar, his eyes widening in disbelief as he caught sight of the two of you together.

"Y/N?" The voice was slurred, unmistakably Jungkook’s. You tensed in Namjoon’s arms, your heart pounding in your chest as you turned to see Jungkook standing a few feet away, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

“Jungkook,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling inside you.

Namjoon tensed beside you, his grip on your waist tightening almost imperceptibly, his expression unreadable.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here,” Jungkook slurred, his words dripping with sarcasm as he stared at you and Namjoon. “Didn’t know you were into my friends, Y/N. Guess you’ll take anyone who gives an ounce of attention, huh?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you momentarily speechless as you recoiled from the unexpected attack. Namjoon, however, was quick to react, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive as he stepped forward to confront Jungkook.

“Hey, that’s enough, man,” Namjoon said firmly, his voice cutting through the air as he placed himself between you and Jungkook.

You felt a pang of regret at what you had inadvertently caused, knowing that Jungkook had every right to feel hurt by seeing you with his friend.

“Y/N... and Namjoon,” Jungkook slurred, his words laced with a hint of mockery. “I never would’ve guessed.”

Namjoon’s jaw clenched in frustration. “Come on, man, you’re drunk, and you’re out of line.” Jungkook scoffed, flickering between you and Namjoon with a mixture of disbelief and anger. “Out of line?” he echoed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. I’m just stating the obvious, aren’t I, Y/N?”

Namjoon placed a calming hand on his shoulder, his touch reassuringly. “Let’s not make a scene,” he said quietly, warning Jungkook. “You’re not yourself right now. We’ll talk about this later.”

For a moment, Jungkook seemed to waver, his drunken facade faltering. But then, with a bitter laugh, he turned and stumbled away.

Turning back to you with a look of concern. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress.

You nodded, offering him a shaky smile as you tried to push aside the hurtful words that lingered in the air. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s just get out of here, please.”

The next day dawned with a sense of unease, the previous night’s events still fresh in your mind. As you woke to the harsh light of day filtering through your curtains, you couldn’t shake the discomfort that settled over you like a heavy blanket.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you checked your phone to find a message from Jungkook, his words a stark reminder of the events that had unfolded the night before. “Hey, did you come to the bar last night?” he wrote, his tone casual as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. “I can’t remember a thing, lmao.”

On one hand, his casual tone and obliviousness to the events of the previous night grated on your nerves, but on the other hand, there was a sense of relief knowing that he seemed unaware of the tension that had hung between you, at least for now.

With a heavy sigh, you composed a response, your fingers tapping out a brief reply. “Yeah, I was there,” you wrote, your words tinged with a hint of bitterness you couldn’t shake. “What a night, huh? I’m glad you had fun.”

Meanwhile, on Namjoon’s end, the morning brought a sense of apprehension as he grappled with the aftermath of the confrontation with Jungkook. Despite his best efforts to put on a brave front, he couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at him from within.

Throughout the day, he debated whether or not to touch the subject with Jungkook. Still, his resolve faltered each time he tried to gather the courage. How could he confront his friend about his behavior without risking losing you?

As the hours passed, it became increasingly clear that Jungkook had no recollection of the events that had transpired the night before. His mind was fogged by the haze of alcohol, and he seemed oblivious to your exchange, leaving Namjoon at a loss for how to proceed.

After the farewell dinner passed, Namjoon became aware of your persistent efforts to see Jungkook one last time before his departure. He observed as you reached out to Jungkook, only to be met with excuses. Jungkook definitely didn’t want to make the effort to see you.

In the middle of the week, all the guys went out to grab some food; Namjoon sat in the backseat of the car alongside Jungkook, Jimin in the passenger seat, and Taehyung at the wheel. He noticed Jungkook’s phone light up with your name on the screen. It was already dark outside, so the glow from the phone illuminated Jungkook’s face, and Namjoon clearly saw your name on the screen.

It wasn’t a silent ride, so Namjoon didn’t know how the hell he could hear your voice so well as you spoke to Jungkook. Your desperation was palpable, each word carrying the weight of your emotions as you questioned Jungkook about what he had been up to and if he hadn’t gotten the chance to see any of your texts. Namjoon felt a pang of sympathy as he listened, knowing all too well the pain you were feeling.

Jungkook’s response was vague, and his attitude spoke volumes during the conversation.

It was a moment of rawness, the culmination of all your emotions laid bare in a single question. “Can’t you see I was in love with you?” As you spoke, your voice trembled with emotion, the words hanging heavy in the air. “I never asked you for anything,” you continued, your tone tinged with desperation. “nothing, Jungkook, not for you to move in with me or marry me; I just wanted to be with you.” Each word was punctuated by the ache of unfulfilled longing, a plea for understanding in the face of uncertainty. “I don’t get why we can’t be together,” you confessed, the weight of your heartache evident in your voice.

As Namjoon listened to your heartfelt plea, his heart sank with the weight of your words. He felt the tension in the air, a palpable reminder of the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. Unsure of what to do, he found himself fidgeting with his phone, his fingers tracing aimless patterns on the screen. He glanced briefly at Jungkook, whose expression remained unreadable, before clearing his throat in an attempt to dispel the heavy silence that hung over them. “Should we try that new restaurant that just opened up downtown?” Namjoon suggested his voice as carefully neutral as possible. He knew that your words had struck a chord in his friend.

As Jungkook struggled to find the right way to respond to your words, his mind raced with conflicting emotions. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His silence hanging heavy in the air.

Sensing his hesitation, you felt a surge of tears welling up inside. Without waiting for him to finally say something, you abruptly ended the call, your actions driven more by the need to release your pent-up emotions than a desire to hear Jungkook’s explanation. The line went silent, leaving Jungkook alone with his thoughts, grappling with the weight of your words and his own inability to answer.

Jungkook’s feelings for you remained ambiguous. It was evident that there was a deep connection between you and him. He knew he loved the attention you gave him without fully understanding your feelings. To be completely honest, you caught him off guard tonight.

He never expected your affection to run so deeply, and the words you just revealed to him left him feeling surprised and perhaps a bit overwhelmed. Jungkook may have underestimated the extent of your emotions and failed to recognize the depth of what he had with you until now.

Namjoon picked you up at the hour he promised. He didn’t waste time and started asking you about what you had been up to. He said he wanted to know how you liked the last music festival you went to, how work had been, and barely five minutes had passed.

“So, where do you want to go?” “I was thinking we could go to one of the bars near my place; what do you think?”

“Sure, I haven’t gone out at all lately”, “did you have one in mind?”

“Wait, tell me first, did you already have dinner?”

You shook your head.

“Good because I haven’t either.” What do you say if we go home and have dinner instead?”

“I’d like that”, “what about some takeout?”

On your way to get food and to his house, he didn’t stop talking for the whole ride; he kept asking all these things about you. And it’s not like you’ve not seen this side of him, but it felt nice that someone was interested enough to ask about your life lately.

The conversation flowed effortlessly as you sat on his bed, eating and watching a movie. You talked about books and films and even asked if you’d considered having children someday. The atmosphere between you was electric, as always, and Namjoon couldn’t help but be swept up in it.

Getting your containers out of the way, he gently hugged you closer, feeling the warmth of your body against his. Your heart raced at his touch, you could never deny the connection between you. “Aren’t you cold?” He began to kiss your neck, sending shivers down your spine as his lips explored your sensitive skin.

The movie played in the background, but you barely noticed as Namjoon pressed you closer, his body molding against yours. “Not anymore,” and then he kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands roamed your body.

The heat between you was undeniable as Namjoon lifted you onto his lap, your legs straddling him as he rutted into you. You moaned with pleasure, your bodies moving in a rhythm that felt both new and familiar.

Your hands tangled in his hair as you kissed him passionately, lost in the moment. Namjoon’s hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve and leaving a fire trail in their wake. The air around you was thick with desire as you both gave in to the electricity that pulsed between you.

His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin, marking you as his. Each touch sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core, causing your breath to hitch and your body to arch against him.

“Namjoon,” you moaned his name softly, the sound music to his ears. He lifted you effortlessly, laying you down on the bed so that he could hover above you. His eyes held a mixture of hunger and adoration as he took in the sight before him.

“You’re so hot,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. You felt a blush creep onto your cheeks at his words, but before you could respond, his lips were on yours again.

The kiss was deep and passionate, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume everything in its path. Namjoon’s hands explored every inch of your body, leaving no skin untouched. The soft fabric of your clothes became an obstacle that needed to be removed. With nimble fingers, he began undressing you.

When all barriers were gone, he took a moment to admire the sight before him - your naked body spread out beneath him like it was the first time his eyes ever saw you. You squirmed under his gaze. 

Get a grip. This is not the first time this has happened.

He leaned down and captured one of your nipples between his lips while his hand massaged the other breast. The sensation was overwhelming as pleasure coursed through every nerve ending in your body.

Your back arched as you moaned his name loudly into the room. Namjoon continued to lavish attention on your breasts, alternating between gentle sucking and teasing flicks of his tongue.

His lips traveled a path of hot kisses down your stomach, leaving a fire trail in their wake. He peppered your skin with soft bites and licks as he made his way to the apex of your thighs.

The anticipation built within you as you felt his warm breath against your core. When his tongue finally made contact with your sensitive bud, a moan ripped from your throat. It was intense, almost too much to handle, as he expertly swirled his tongue around your clit.

Your hips bucked involuntarily as waves of ecstasy crashed over you like an earthquake. Namjoon held onto your thighs, keeping you in place as he continued to devour you with his mouth. His hands were firm yet gentle as they held onto you, grounding you in the sea of pleasure that threatened to sweep you away.

As the intensity grew, so did the need for more. You tugged at Namjoon’s hair, urging him to come up to kiss you. He complied, moving up your body until his lips met yours once again.

You flipped him over so that now you were straddling him again. Your hands roamed over his muscular chest and abdomen before trailing lower to remove his pants.

The familiar sight before you took your breath away - Namjoon completely naked and at your mercy. His length stood proudly at your attention, begging for your touch. You wrapped one hand around him firmly while using the other to tease his balls.

The anticipation built within him as he felt your warm breath against his neck. You peppered his skin with soft bites and kisses as you made your way to the apex of his thighs.

When you finally took him in your mouth, all coherent thought fled from Namjoon’s mind. The sensation was indescribable - a mixture of wet heat and suction that threatened to push him over the edge before he even had a chance to enjoy it fully.

Your tongue swirled around the tip of his length. At the same time, you maintained eye contact with him, the sight alone nearly enough to send him hurling into oblivion.

As if reading his mind, you hollowed out your cheeks and took him in deeper, maintaining eye contact the entire time. Namjoon’s hips bucked involuntarily as pleasure surged through every fiber of his being.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned loudly, the sound reverberating throughout the room. Encouraged by his reaction, you continued to work him with your mouth, alternating between long strokes and teasing flicks of your tongue.

Namjoon’s hands found their way into your hair, holding onto you for dear life as he rode out the electric charges coursing through his veins. The feeling was almost too much to bear, in the best possible way.

He could feel the pressure building within him as he neared the point of no return. With one final thrust of his hips and a low groan that quickly turned into a string of curses, Namjoon came undone.

His release flooded your mouth in hot spurts, the taste always so addictive. You swallowed him down eagerly. When he finally finished, and his body went limp with pleasure, you released him from your mouth.

Namjoon’s head fell back against the pillow and a groan escaped his lips. The sound was like music to your ears as it signaled that you drove him just as wild as he was driving you.

You leaned forward and captured one of his nipples between your lips, sucking gently. Namjoon’s hands found their way to your hips, holding you in place as he thrust upwards, seeking more friction, not giving room to his own overstimulation.

The combined sensations were overwhelming as pleasure surged through every fiber of your being. You continued to grind slowly, relishing in the way his breath hitched and his body reacted to your touch.

“Fuck, I need to be inside,” Namjoon groaned, his voice filled with desperation. The words sent a surge of heat straight to your core as you felt the wetness between your thighs increase.

You positioned yourself over him, lining him up with your entrance before slowly sinking down onto his length. You never got used to the exquisite feeling of fullness he gave you when he filled you completely, stretching you in all the right ways.

Namjoon’s hands gripped onto your hips tightly as you began to move, riding him at a pace that left both of you breathless. His eyes never left yours as he watched all of your emotions play out on your face.

The sounds of skin slapping were intoxicating. Every movement brought you closer and closer to the edge until you finally felt yourself teetering on the edge.

“I’m coming,” you managed to gasp out between moans. Namjoon nodded in understanding, his own release rapidly approaching. He reached between your bodies and began rubbing circles on your clit, pushing you over the edge.

Stars exploded behind your eyelids as a powerful orgasm crashed over you. You clamped down on Namjoon’s length as pleasure pulsed through every nerve ending in your body.

The sight was enough to send Namjoon rushing into his own orgasm. With a loud groan, he spilled himself inside of you, filling you up and leaving you all warm and pliant.

He collapsed beside you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You rested your head against him, your thoughts suddenly swirling with confusion and desire.

Another movie on TV played in the background, but once again, it went unnoticed as Namjoon pressed soft kisses against your forehead.

As you lay in Namjoon’s chest, your body still warm from his touch, you began questioning your decisions. The weight of the moment pressed against your chest as you listened to the rhythm of his heart. It was a stark reminder that you were here with him, tangled in the sheets, while Jungkook remained out of reach.

It was the pain of missing someone so unattainable.

“I’m so glad we talked,” he playfully whispered against your skin. You looked up at him, and Namjoon sensed the shift in your demeanor. He propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze tracing over the contours of your face. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, concern lacing his voice.

You turned your head to meet his gaze and offered a small smile. “Yeah,” you replied, though uncertainty lingered in your words. “Just...thinking.”

He reached out a hand to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering against the curve of your jaw. Namjoon’s dark eyes held an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. “About what?” he inquired.

You hesitated for a moment before deciding to be honest with him. After all, he had been nothing but open and sincere with you since your dynamic began to form. “Suddenly, I just started wondering...what am I doing” you admitted, searching for the right words to explain yourself.

Namjoon’s expression softened as he took in your words, understanding blooming across his features. He shifted closer to you, closing the remaining distance between your bodies and cupping your face in his hands. “You’re here doing this with me because we both want this,” he said firmly yet gently.

His thumb traced circles along your cheekbone as he continued speaking. “I know it’s complicated,” Namjoon acknowledged, his voice filled with empathy. “But we've built something mind-blowing—we can’t deny that.”

Your heart swelled at his words. Namjoon saw past the physical desire, recognizing the emotional entanglement that had brought you to this moment.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender gesture. “I don’t want you to overthink this,” Namjoon murmured. “Just let yourself feel, and we’ll figure it out somewhere along the way.”

His words resonated with you, easing the whirlwind of thoughts spinning through your mind. In this quiet and intimate moment, Namjoon had provided the reassurance and grounding that you needed.

You wrapped your arms around him, in awe of what he just told you. His body melded with yours, offering warmth and solace in a way that no one else had. Here, in the sanctuary of his arms, you allowed yourself to surrender to his intoxicating hugs.

The weight of uncertainty began to lift as passion replaced doubt. Namjoon’s touch ignited a fire within you—one that burned away insecurities and hesitations.

With a newfound sense of clarity, you tilted your head up to capture his lips with yours in a searing kiss. It was a silent admittance—a shared understanding.

Namjoon responded eagerly, his lips moving hungrily against yours as desire flared between you. The air grew thick with anticipation as the heat intensified, driving all rational thought from your mind.

In this moment—this raw and unfiltered desire—you were able to set aside the complexities of love and longing. It was just the two of you, bodies entwined.

You ground your hips against him, aching for more of his touch. The friction between you was intoxicating, and the hunger in Namjoon’s eyes mirrored your own.

With one hand gripping your waist, he used the other to trace a path down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

Needing to feel more of him, you tugged at his torso, silently urging him to get closer. Namjoon obliged.

Unable to resist any longer, you leaned in to press a kiss against his collarbone. Slowly, you worked your way across his chest, nipping and sucking at his skin along the way. Each moan that escaped from Namjoon’s lips only spurred you on.

Namjoon’s hands roamed over your body, creating an inferno wherever they touched. Desire pooled low in your stomach as his fingers traced patterns on your skin, igniting a fire that hadn’t been extinguished earlier.

Unable to wait longer, you straddled him again, aligning your bodies so perfectly that it felt like coming home. The heat radiating from his hard length made you gasp in anticipation; you needed him desperately once again.

Namjoon’s hands found their way to the small of your back as he pulled you impossibly closer until there was no space left between. Every ridge and plane of your bodies met and melded together as if they were always meant to be this way.

Your eyes locked in before he finally entered you, inch by glorious inch. A moan escaped both your lips at this new sensation; it hasn't felt like this before. It was clear that brand new emotion was being assimilated in your bodies.

As Namjoon began moving inside you with slow yet deliberate thrusts that had you seeing stars with each delicious stroke, your lips found each other once again. The kiss was a perfect blend of passion and desire that left you both gasping for breath.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as you clung to him for dear life, your body rocked by the force of his movements. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, the intensity building with every passing second.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Namjoon groaned against your lips, his voice laced with a rawness that sent shivers down your spine. It was all you could do to hold on as you quivered; there wasn’t even a point in counting how many times he’s made you cum tonight.

You moved together in perfect sync, lost in a world where only your bodies and the overwhelming need for one another existed in this room. Time ceased to have any meaning as you chased your releases.

When it finally hit— that earth-shattering peak that left you gasping for air— it was as if everything fell into place. At that moment, there were no doubts or uncertainties; it was just you and Namjoon and the undeniable infatuation you shared.

As the world slowly came back into focus and your breathing returned to normal, you rested your forehead against Namjoon’s, staring deep into his eyes. You didn’t need words to convey what you were both thinking; this had just been the most incredible sex any of you have had since you started seeing each other.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow in the room. Namjoon stirred beside you, his sleepy gaze meeting yours. You exchanged a knowing look, but the weight of unspoken questions hung in the air.

As you both got dressed and prepared to leave, the atmosphere between you grew slightly tense. The intimacy you had shared was undeniable, but the implications were yet to be understood. You couldn’t ignore the lingering question of whether this was still a momentary escape for you or something that blossomed out last night.

As Namjoon drove you home, the usual comfortable conversation flowed between you, easing some of the tension that had built up within you. His presence was a source of familiarity and reassurance, and you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly the dynamic between the two of you was turning into.

You had always considered Namjoon a nice guy, someone you could rely on, someone who took on the role to care of you in every way. Lately, things have taken a more intimate turn, blurring the lines between friendship and something more. The physical encounter you had just shared added a layer of complexity to your relationship, leaving you with whole lot of questions.

As he pulled up in front of your house, you turned to face him, contemplating your next move. You appreciated him taking you home, but you wanted to retreat to the familiarity of your own space as soon as possible, where you could process the events of the past night.

As you stepped out of the car, you thanked Namjoon once again for everything. The unresolved tension hung in the air, unspoken words and uncharted territory lingering between you. It was clear that there was more to explore, but you also recognized the importance of introspection in this situation.

Walking away from the car, you couldn’t help but wonder what the future held for you and Namjoon. Would you continue to explore this newfound connection, or would you both retreat back to the safety of being just an acquaintance, brushing off the intensity of the previous night as a momentary lapse?

As you entered your home, uncertainty weighed on your mind, and the echoes of the night still resonated within you. One thing was sure, though—this unexpected encounter had left a strong mark, forcing you to confront your fears.

As you continued to navigate your emotions, you couldn’t help but wonder. Would you eventually find the clarity? Or were you destined to be caught in this eternal struggle between the familiar but tumultuous past and the electrifying but uncertain present?

I don’t even know what I’m getting myself into.

A week later, as the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of pink and orange across the sky, you found yourself lost in thought. It had been weeks since Jungkook had finally come back and texted you, so fate had a way of bringing you back together when you least expected it.

It started innocently enough. You were on your way to meet a few friends for dinner when you spotted him across the street. The sight of Jungkook after all this time sent a jolt of electricity through your veins, stirring emotions you had tried so hard to bury.

Caught off guard, you hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. Should you approach him and acknowledge his presence, or should you pretend not to see him and continue on your way?

Before you could decide, Jungkook turned and locked eyes with you. Time seemed to stand still as you stared at each other, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

Taking a deep breath, you summoned some courage you didn’t know you still had. “Jungkook,” you called out softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Facing you, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “Y/N,” he replied, his voice equally soft.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the past hanging heavy between you.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” Jungkook finally broke the silence, his tone tinged with a hint of sadness.

“I could say the same,” you replied, countless emotions swirling inside you.

There was a pause as you both searched for the right words, the distance between you feeling both vast and infinitesimal.

“How have you been?” Jungkook asked, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

You shrugged, unsure of how to answer. “I’ve been... okay,” you replied hesitantly. “And you?”

Jungkook nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I’ve been keeping busy,” he said cryptically.

More silence followed as you both struggled to find common ground, the awkwardness of the situation palpable.

“I should get going,” you finally said, breaking the tension. “It was... nice seeing you, Jungkook.”

He nodded, unable to meet your gaze. “Yeah, you too,” he replied softly.

Just as you turned to leave, Jungkook found himself unable to resist the urge to speak up. “Wait,” he called out, voice barely above a whisper.

You turned back to face him, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “yes?” you asked, your tone gentle.

He hesitated for a moment, the words catching in his throat. “Can we get together and talk sometime?” Jungkook finally asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Your expression softened. “About what?” you replied, your voice barely audible over the city’s din.

It was quiet for a minute. “Forget it,” Jungkook said quickly, his smile faltering. “It’s nothing.”

But you couldn’t let it go. “No, Jungkook,” you insisted, stepping closer to him. “What do you need to talk about?”

For a moment, Jungkook seemed taken aback by your question, his eyes widening in surprise. And then, with a slight smile, he stepped closer to you.

He cleared his throat, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. “I mean,” he started, his voice barely above a whisper as though he was afraid of the words themselves. He paused, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. “It’s not like I need to, but...”

You listened intently, the gravity of Jungkook’s words sinking in. It was as if he was voicing the thoughts swirling in your mind, the unspoken desires and lingering emotions that you had both been grappling with for so long.

“We’ve always made it complicated, I know,” Jungkook continued, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “But I can’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—there’s a chance for us to figure out what we had.”

For a moment, you were both suspended in time; your shared moments and potential futures flashed through your eyes. Jungkook’s question had stirred something within you, a complicated mix of nostalgia, longing, and confusion. The echoes of your past relationship with him were interwoven with the exciting and passionate dynamic you had recently discovered with Namjoon. You knew you had to make a decision, not only for yourself but also for them.

As you looked into Jungkook’s hopeful eyes, you felt deep regret, not for the moments you had shared, but for the ones that never were and would never be. You realized you had been clinging to the hope that may never come. You knew in your heart that it was time to let go and move forward.

With a deep breath, you broke the silence. ‘Jungkook,’ you began, your voice steady, ‘I think it’s best if we don’t…’ Your words trailed off, but you hoped your message was clear.

Lost in your thoughts, you continued to meet your friends, the weight of shutting out someone who hurt you in the past, heavy on your shoulders. As you sat down to dinner, the events of the evening played over and over in your mind, leaving you drained of emotion.

Later that evening, after that particularly confusing and unplanned encounter with Jungkook, you found yourself sitting on the balcony of your apartment, staring out at the city lights. The soothing sound of one of your jazz playlists playing in the background served as a backdrop to your contemplation.

Just then, your phone buzzed, and it was Namjoon. He had sent you a text that read, “I don’t want to be the cause of your pain, but I can’t help how I feel. It’s complicated, I know. Just know that I’m here for you, no matter what you want to do.”

His message struck a chord deep within you. You realized that Namjoon carved himself a special place in your heart, and it was time to tell him your choice.

With Namjoon, you felt a different kind of connection. His understanding and acceptance of your complicated situation were comforting. The passion between you was undeniable, but more than that, you felt seen, valued, and respected in a way that you hadn’t with Jungkook.

As dawn breaks, you find yourself comfortably sheltered on your balcony with a steaming cup of coffee in your hands. The richness of its aroma fills your senses, providing a comforting solitude as you are lost in a sea of thoughts that you have been pondering since the early hours. Your surroundings are quiet, the world below still hushed in the early morning slumber.

Suddenly, this serene silence is broken by a familiar voice echoing from below. The unexpected shout of your name startles you, causing you to rise abruptly from your chair, your heart skipping a beat with the suddenness of it. Curiosity instantly piques within you, a compelling urge to discover the source of this voice calling you.

When you leaned over the balcony railing to peer down, much to your surprise and a slight sense of disbelief, you saw Namjoon. There he was, standing on the lonely street beneath your balcony, his posture exuding an aura of determination. The sight of him there, seemingly out of the blue, took you aback. You hadn’t expected to see him, not at this hour, not here.

“Namjoon, what are you doing here?” you managed to ask him, your voice barely a whisper against the morning chill. Your heart was racing, pounding in your chest at the unexpected sight of him. “Come on up!” You invited him in with a giggle, your mind spinning, thinking, oh my god, he’s here. A surge of laughter bubbled within you as you retreated from the balcony, giving him the time to go up to the first floor.

Without uttering a single word in response, Namjoon quickly made his way up the stairs leading to your apartment. As soon as he stepped through the door, his presence filled the room, bringing a sense of warmth and familiarity you hadn’t realized was missing until now.

The silence that had ensued was once again broken by Namjoon’s voice. His voice was softer and gentler this time, but his determination was no less. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Y/N,” he confessed, his eyes directly meeting yours in a gaze that held you captive. “I needed to see you, talk to you.”

“You drive me crazy in the best possible way,” Namjoon started. “Every stolen glance, every lingering touch, it’s like electricity coursing through my veins, igniting a fire that I can’t control.”

“From the moment I met you, I’ve been consumed by the thought of you, your touch, your scent, your laughter.” Namjoon continued. “I couldn’t resist your pull on me, drawing me in like a moth.”

“You make me feel alive, Y/N,” Namjoon confessed, his eyes burning with desire. “And I never want to let that go. I want to explore every inch of you, body and soul, to lose myself in the passion we share.”

“I want you to go out for drinks with your friends,” Namjoon expressed, his voice still soft. “So when you feel hungover the next day, you’ll ask me to come see you because you want to have me in your arms and cuddle you.”

“I want us to talk in the mornings, still in bed, about all types of things,” Namjoon continued, a fond smile playing on his lips. “But sometimes in the afternoons, too, I want us to be able to do whatever we want during the day.”

“I want you to tell me about the nights you go out with your friends,” Namjoon confessed, his eyes filled with warmth. “And tell me about the guy at the bar who was trying to flirt with you all night. I want you to text me when you’re drunk with your friends just to tell me dumb things because you want to be sure that I’m also thinking about you.”

“I want us to laugh while we’re making love,” Namjoon declared, full of yearning. “To start laughing because we’re trying something new, and it doesn’t make any sense. I want us to be with our friends so you can take my hand and drag me to the other room because you can’t hold back anymore, and you want us to make love right there. I want to make you try to stay quiet because there are people outside, and they might hear us.”

“I want to eat with you all the time,” Namjoon continued. “And I want you to make me talk about myself and for you to talk about everything that’s on your mind. I want us to discuss which is best, the north coast or the south coast, the west or the east. I want to imagine our dream home, still aware that we might never live together.”

“I want to tell you about my plans, the ones that make no sense whatsoever,” Namjoon confessed, his voice filled with excitement. “I want to surprise you by saying, ‘Take your passport, we’re leaving.’ I want to be afraid with you. Do things I wouldn’t do with anyone else because you make me feel safe. Come back home drunk after a night out with my friends, and for you to take my face in your hands, kiss me, and keep me close to you the whole night.”

“I want you to have your life,” Namjoon continued, his tone sincere. “So you can decide to take a few weeks off to go on a trip just because you want to. So you leave me wishing to see you through FaceTime, but all it makes me do is miss you more.”

“I don’t want us to be joined at the hip all the time,” Namjoon admitted, a smile playing on his lips. “That way, we can hang out the next day. You can tell me about your night, and I can tell you about mine.”

“I want something simple yet complicated,” Namjoon declared, his eyes locking with you. “Something that often makes me question myself, but the moment I’m in the same room with you, all my doubts disappear. I want to tell everyone you’re gorgeous, and I want to be proud to say we’re together. I want to tell you that I love you, and most importantly, I want you to be able to say that you love me, too.”

“I want to make plans with you,” Namjoon continued, his voice filled with hope. “Unaware if we’ll make them come true. I want you to have a relationship where you know where you stand. I want to be someone who you love to be with. I want us to still have the desire to fool around at times because we’re still young.”

“I want to be the one you make love to and then fall asleep with,” Namjoon confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand now caressing your cheek. “The one who gives you your space and loves when you get lost in your playlists. I want to have a single life with you because our relationship would be just like that, but together.”

#bts #bts fanfic #namjoon #kim namjoon #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts namjoon #bts jungkook #bts smut #bts angst #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts members #bts fic #bts au #namjoon imagine #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon scenarios #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #jungkook angst #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #bts x fem!reader #nswf post #18+ mdni #mdni

[holdinbacksecrets]

Hi! Can you please write BTS version of the voicemails they will send hinting their feelings? Thank you 😊

thank you for requesting 🖤

voicemails from bts, hinting feelings

namjoon: “i was in a bookstore the other day and started to imagine a book you wrote being on the shelves someday. everything you do, down to the indentation of your steps, leaves behind a story. do you remember your birthday two years ago? you drank one glass too many, and it’s like the fiction unleashed. i recorded a voice memo, but i never played it for you. i want to.”

jin: “are you scared? this morning you sounded really scared on the phone. i’m sorry i didn’t say more or say enough. i was caught off guard because you’ve never showed me scared before, not like that. i’ve seen your apprehension. i’ve seen your insecure. i’ve seen your anxiety, but this was consuming fear. i’m making dinner, and i feel like you probably haven’t eaten today… if your anxiety gives anything away about your scared. come over when you’re off. i’ll greet you with a hug and bowl of soup. or two bowls. i have cheese and bread too. the good bread. the loaf you turned me on to.”

yoongi: “you used the notes app on my phone to write out your grocery list, and i’m amused. it sounds like you’re having a conversation with yourself: right now, i want rice crispies, but i’ll probably change my mind once i’m in the cereal aisle. trust your gut, or get two boxes. you’re 26. no one is stopping you. oh! get some apple juice too. i keep having dreams about twelve year old me at a friend’s house. we’d sit at the kitchen island after school with graham crackers and apple juice, and i miss her. i miss those simple conversations. you’re so pure and magnetic. sometimes i wonder where you came from, but then i’m just glad you made it here—tumbled into my life because you did tumble. you’ve always made the story sound too elegant. the tumble was charming, i promise.”

hoseok: “you’ve been sharing recipes with me, or i guess i should say the final product of your recipes has been shared with me, repeatedly, and now i’m starting to wait for the knock on my door or the ring of a text. is that bad? i wouldn’t want you to ever think i’m demanding treats, but i love… i love the time we spend together when you bring them over, and your eyes sparkle when my expression changes because of how good everything always tastes… i love that too.”

jimin: “did you say everything you needed to yesterday? i swear your lips parted and you leaned in so many times to never say anything. i know it was a busy place, and it’s not that fun sitting at a table for twelve. but i was ready to listen. i’ll be ready at 2 am too. whatever you need. there’s something to this, right? to the ease of our conversations. you trust me?”

taehyung: “do you want to sculpt clay with me? i bought a whole bag and a bunch of tools. i thought about booking a private lesson, but i wanted my record player and access to a kitchen and the ability to get my hands dirty whenever i want to—need it. do you need it too? if not, keep me company while i try to make something?”

jungkook: “can i pick you up today? this is going to sound ridiculous, but your smell used to linger in my car, and i can’t quite make out the notes of your perfume anymore. i can imagine them, but they don’t meet me when i open the door… i can’t leave this as a voicemail on your phone. can i leave this as a voicemail on your phone? i sound insane.”

bonus: “i’m calling to tell you i’m proud of you. sometimes when we were kids, i used to think our dreams wouldn’t make it higher than the trees. i thought they’d get caught in the leaves, die on branches come winter, but look at us. look at you. you’re incredible. we did it.”

#bts imagines #bts blurbs #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts reactions #namjoon scenarios #namjoon blurbs #jin scenarios #jin imagine #yoongi scenarios #yoongi blurbs #yoongi imagine #hoseok scenarios #hoseok blurbs #jhope imagine #jimin imagine #jimin blurbs #taehyung scenarios #taehyung imagine #jungkook imagine #jungkook blurbs #jungkook fluff

[astayinwonderland]

Silk and Fire - Chapter 5

pairing: namjoon x f.reader , jungkook x f. reader

summary: you try to spend all of your time with namjoon but things go south once jungkook shows up at your house

word count: 3.3k

genre: romance | drama | smut +18 MDNI

status: ongoing

You can read about this story and other chapters here.

warnings: use and mentions of alcohol, cheating, consensual intercourse, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex (pls don't), cursing, mentions of jealousy, reader goes to a bar, LGBTQ+ themes.

It’s been two weeks. 

Two weeks since you’ve seen or heard from Jungkook, or anyone from the group, even Camille. You decided you should fill your days and nights with that one person, your one and only, your significant other, Namjoon. It was a mistake to let Jungkook trap you in Hoseok’s guest bathroom like that. You should have never let him touch you, the way you basically melted under his touch was wrong. Very wrong. 

So now here you are, feeling another man’s touch. Your man. Lazy make-out sessions with Namjoon are a slice of heaven on Earth. The way his fingertips dance on your skin creating patterns along your arms and thighs is mesmerising and you are drunk on him. His essence, his smell, his lips on yours… Everything about Namjoon is warm and safe, it’s home. 

The sun barely creeps into your shared bedroom, your curtain blinds blocking most of the light. Namjoon smiles against your lips as your hands palm his very evident erection. 

“What’s with you lately?” he asks but continues kissing you. 

“Mmmmm… nothing. What do you mean?” you lie, you know exactly what he means. 

“You are all over me lately. Am I being rewarded for something?” 

“… being the best boyfriend ever,” you reply and kiss him deeply. Not letting him question anything else. 

Namjoon surrenders to you, his strong hands slightly pushing you down to the bed. Pepper kisses land on your jaw, your neck and shoulders. He strips you off your pyjamas and the look on his face when you are completely naked under him is glorious. Lips curved into a smile, his adoring eyes turn dark with lust as he moves his mouth to your core. 

Namjoon starts slowly and temptingly, his dangerous tongue licking your entrance, taking his time. He goes all the way to your clit, subtly sucking on it and then his attention is returned to your needy cunt. He hums in approval as he tastes your arousal, your folds already covered in it. It’s the most perfect nectar to his lips. 

“I wanna drown right here,” he dips his tongue inside your warm cunt. His tongue, expert on how to make you cum again and again, goes in and out of you as his nose presses on your clit with every movement. 

Namjoon spits in your hole, a combination of his saliva and your juices make squelching sounds as he adds two fingers inside you. 

“Fuck, Joonie…” you let a breathy moan out. 

With his fingers curling inside you, the tension in your lower stomach grows and your pussy clenches around his fingers.

“Not yet, babe, I want you to cum with me.” 

Namjoon slips his fingers out of you making you whine at your now empty cunt. But that ends when he licks his fingers and then places them over your parted lips. Your tongue mimics what he did before, however, you end up sucking your boyfriend’s fingers, tasting yourself in the process. 

You take off his boxer shorts and your entire body seems to be on fire when Namjoon’s cock springs free. His red tip begging for attention and he is hard, you don’t want him inside you, you need him inside you. 

Spreading your legs you welcome him to enter you. This hand taps your thigh for you to wrap your legs around him. The tip of his cock grazes your clit and you are done with the teasing. Taking the matter into your own hands, you reach Namjoon’s rock-hard cock and you guide it to your entrance. Both of you moan as he completely sinks into you. 

Deep and slow, his cock glides in but not entirely out of you, keeping your cunt full– so full of him. The feeling is so good, so pleasurable, it is hard for you to form a coherent sentence. Your full focus is grabbing Namjoon’s ass, pulling him as close to you as possible. You want to feel every single inch of him. How a veiny cock pulsates inside you, making you scream for it, scream for him. 

Your hands, desperate now, reach for Namjoon’s hair, pulling him into yet another kiss that goes from sweet to sloppy. His lips and tongue land on your jawline, chin, and back to your lips as your hips now raise to meet with his. The groans that were once stuck in his throat are now very audible as you both increase the speed at which you chase your climaxes. 

“You gonna cum with me, babe? You close?” he says in your ear, his voice incredibly low and hoarse. 

“Yesyesyes… make me cum,” you leave little kisses on his neck. 

As your climax approaches you shut your eyes, heightening the feeling of your boyfriend’s weight on top of you and the little moans he lets out as he fucks you. Namjoon’s hips thrust hard and as you open your eyes, tears fall. You cry as a string of curses leave your lips, you are cuming, harder than last night. Harder than yesterday and harder than the day before that. 

“Babe, fuck– ugh fuckfuck!” Namjoon cums with a muffled moan as he plants kisses to your temple and cheek. 

Namjoon looks at you, cock softening, his load buried in you. His lips curve in a smile, eyes again lovingly scanning your face, trying to read your expression. You can’t help but cover your eyes with your hands. You’ve decided to restrict yourself to only interacting with Namjoon these two weeks because he deserves the world. Your little JK thing had to stop. Nevertheless, you can’t shake the thought of the red lingerie set he sent you, which is now hidden in your side of the cupboard.

Guilt makes your skin crawl, but that goes away when after such a mind-blowing orgasm, Namjoon gives you a chaste kiss on the lips. You could stay here forever, but that was not the case. 

After a long hot shower together, it dawned on you that you couldn’t stay in this Namjoon bubble forever. Someday you had to face reality and that day was today. Namjoon is going away, on a business trip, and even though your love for him is real, you don’t trust yourself. 

“Do you really, really need to go? Can’t you have a video call or something?” you sit on the couch watching as he puts his luggage near the door. 

“I do need to go. Only three days ok, babe?” he gives you a smile. That beautiful smile warms your heart and makes you swoon. 

“Okay three days,” you reply. 

Namjoon walks to you and cups your face. He lets the image of you engrave on his brain for the days he is going to be away. He wishes he were more present, he really cherished these two weeks where it felt like the two of you just started dating, but he just had to leave. So he pulls you into a kiss, firmly pressing his lips to yours. 

As you wave goodbye, you feel that heaviness in your chest and you just know it is time to go back to bed. Trying to sleep it off might help, after all, and there is nothing urgent that needs to get done. 

Your bed is cold as you climb on it. Has it always been this cold? You make yourself comfortable, putting pillows around you in an attempt to feel less lonely. Blinds now closed, you let yourself sleep, trusting that three days will fly by. 

The subconscious never lies and it loves to play tricks on one’s mind, and you are no exception. Your dreams get steamier and you are not exactly aware of what’s going on. There are hands all over your body. One specifically makes its way to your mouth, getting two tattooed fingers in it making you moan as drool starts to fall down your chin. You feel the opposite side of your bed sink at the weight of your new companion. 

With your eyes still closed, your hand reaches the body that now lays beside you. 

“Jungkook?” your voice is sleepy and tired. 

“Jungkook!?” Camille answers perplexed. 

Your eyes rapidly open at the sound of your best friend’s voice. A rush of thoughts comes to your head, thinking about how to excuse yourself. 

“I– I just…” 

“It’s time to stop your personal house arrest. We are going out,” she pats your head and wink. 

“Ugh… honestly, Cam, you scared me,” you rub your eyes, trying to fully wake up. It’s been hours since Namjoon left. Where did time go?

“I miss you, I haven’t seen you in forever. I know you miss Joon and all, but we have a date, and people are expecting us,” Camille hops off the bed and starts going through your clothes which hang perfectly neatly on your side of the cupboard. 

You decide to get up, there is no fighting Camille. Besides, you could use the distraction. 

“Ooh but what do we have here? Oh My God, babes, you got it!” 

Your head spins so fast to find Camille with the delicate red lace underwear in her hands. Yes, Jungkook’s gift. 

“Ummm, yes,” you lie. “I got it,” you make your way to her and put them back in their hiding place. 

“Well, put some makeup on. We leave in 20!”.

________________________________________________________

For the entire cab ride you kept asking Camille what was she up to and she didn’t reveal much. You figured you would go to a bar and she would make you dance your worries away. The good thing is you were actually right, in a way. To your surprise, you were joining two lovely people at the bar. 

“So why did you put yourself on house arrest?” with a smirk drawn on his lips he sips his drink. 

“She said she just didn’t feel like going out,” Jimin answers Taehyung the same question for the nth time, earning an eye roll from him. 

“Okay, okay. But we were looking forward to seeing you! You know you are my favourite,” Taehyung winks at you playfully. 

“I thought I was your favourite,” Camille comes back to the table with drinks… 8 shots to be exact. How did she manage to carry these? It will always remain a mystery. 

“No, you’re my favourite,” Jimin adds laughing. 

Camille sweetly kisses his cheek and then proceeds to give each one of you two shots. 

“Don’t ask what’s in them, just drink. Cheers!” 

You watch as everyone takes their shots, grateful for this moment where you truly feel blissful. For the first time in days, you don’t feel anxious or guilty. Namjoon has great friends, despite his agitated life. It would be wrong if you ruined everything. You have no idea how you could forgive yourself if you did anything remotely close to breaking that man’s heart. These sober thoughts get mixed with the alcohol in your system as more drinks come to the table. 

“Let’s dance?” Taehyung extends his hand to you. 

You can feel the alcohol slightly teasing your brain now. The vibration of the music gives you goosebumps, and the lights are a tad bit brighter. Accepting Tehyung’s hand, you are guided by him to the dance floor where other groups of friends and couples are dancing. A couple catches your attention as they seductively make out right in front of you. The two men shamelessly grope their bodies together not minding the crowd around them. 

“You know them?” Taehyung’s voice is in your ear now. 

“No,” you resume your dancing. 

Taehyung keeps his careful eyes on you the entire time, making sure you don’t bump into anyone else. His hands are carefully on your waist as he spins you to the music. You look back at the couple who are not less handsy. The temperature seems to rise by the second when you feel a pair of eyes looking intently. Jimin’s eyes look at you from the table as he takes another shot with Camille. His expressionless face makes you turn to Taehyung. 

“Is he… jealous?” you ask. 

“He is always jealous, don’t worry,” he laughs. There is a spark in his eyes and now you understand why everyone is so obsessed with these two. 

From the distance, you see another girl approach Camille. Are they friends? She seems a bit too handsy. 

“Shall we head back?” you ask and Taehyung is already leading the way back to the table. 

“...yeah, sorry but I’m engaged,” Camille says a bit too loud showing off her ring. “You’re gorgeous by the way!”

The girl in the pixie haircut apologises and joins a group of people on the dance floor. It seems she does know the hot steamy couple you saw earlier. 

“You are getting married and still have people flirt with you,” Jimin says with his eyes glued on Taehyung who pretends to not notice such an intense glare. 

“What can I say… I still have it, but I am joining your chosen family forever,” Camille pokes Jimin on the shoulder. 

The tension could be cut with a knife now as silence falls over the table. Jimin now looks down, thinking if he should let his intrusive thoughts win, and of course, they do. 

“If you had to choose anyone but Yoongi, who would you choose?” he finally says. 

You cough in response, not expecting this question at all. 

“Hmmmm… between the seven of you?” Camille asks. 

“Yes,” Taehyung answers as he leans towards her, getting interested in the new turn the night has taken. 

“Well… probably Seokjin–” 

“Jin!?” you exclaim. 

“Yeah, he is really fun,” 

“He is like the complete opposite of Yoongi,” Jimin laughs. 

“Well, who would you choose?” Camille asks. 

Jimin shakes his head. 

“Taehyung should go first. Who?” and there is something in Jimin’s voice that makes you even more intrigued by what Taehyung has to say. 

“I’d choose her,” Taehyung puts an arm around you. 

Jimin rolls his eyes but smiles at you. 

“...from the seven.”

“Maybe Namjoon.” 

Your mouth falls open as you turn to Taehyun. 

“Really? Namjoon?” you ask quite surprised, to be honest. But Taehyung only gives you a sweet smile. 

“Your turn!” Camille says, but you shake your head, which makes everything suddenly spin. The alcohol has caught up with your night. 

“C’mon, beautiful. We’ll say it at the same time. Deal?” Jimin encouraged you and although you know they mean no harm, you know this is dangerous territory. 

“One… Two… Three…” 

“Jungkook,” you blurt out at the same time. Your voice overlaps Jimin’s making him laugh uproarously. 

“Huh! Who would have thought?” Camille looks at you impressed. “The tattoos?” 

You just cover your face in embarrassment and everyone knows at this point it is time to go home. 

__________________________________________________________

The next day came with plenty of things to do around the house and you worked from home. Camille had sent a list of things to help out as part of your Maid of Honour duties, you were more than happy to do these because one, this is your best friend's wedding and you want it to be just as she wants it. Two, it will keep your head from overthinking. 

You’ve Facetimeed Namjoon twice already, making sure he confirmed he was coming home tomorrow. It is not the healthiest thing to be so dependent on him, you already know that. But the fact that he is away is almost making you physically ill. 

Your phone rings and you’re sure it’s him. As you reach out to answer: 

Incoming Call: JK

You have to be fucking kidding me. 

You put the phone down and walk to the kitchen to get water. He can’t be calling you right now. What the hell does he want? 

The ringing of your doorbell startles you as it echoes around the house. You don’t need to ask or check who it is, you already know. As you open the door he turns around to meet you. His hair was long enough to be put in a ponytail. He shows you a big smile which is erased as soon as you don’t return it. 

“Hi,” his voice is small, almost completely muted but the motor of his car that is parked outside.

“You shouldn’t be here, Jungkook–” You reach to close the door but he stops you. 

“Please, I just want to talk. I need to show you something,” his eyes pleading. You try to avoid looking into them, you know you would say yes if you did. 

“I don’t know… it’s very very late and it looks like it might rain.” 

“It will take 10 minutes I promise…” 

_______________________________________________

A 6-ish minute car ride later, you find yourself at the top of a little hill in your neighbourhood. You had no idea it had such an interesting view of the city lights. It even had two wooden benches for people to sit down and admire the view. You could easily drive by and not pay much attention to it, but the way the trees aligned in this specific part of the hill, created a natural arch that blocked some of the street lights. This made the spot perfect for stargazing as well.

“Why are we here?” 

Jungkook is the first to sit on the bench, but you don’t follow—the greater the distance the better. 

“I wanted to show you my favourite place on this side of the city. I used to come here often to think or when I couldn’t sleep… I– also owe you an apology.” 

He stayed silent for a minute, gathering his thoughts, and trying to find the right words to say. 

“I am sorry for–” but Jungkook stops himself and for the first time in the night you look at him in the eye. 

“Actually… I am not sorry. Like I am, but I am not. Not really. I have always loved and respected my friends, but when I want something– someone… I fight for it.” 

“Jungkook?” you take a step back as his fingers brush yours. Jungkook stands up to have a better look at you. 

Little droplets of water start to fall from the sky. They land on your head, your shoulders, and suddenly everywhere. Probably a heavenly warning that you should run far away from this man, but your feet seem to be glued to the ground as his fingers now intertwine with yours. With his eyes staring into yours he raises your hand to his lips as he starts planting kisses on the back of your hand. 

“Jungkook… no–” you whisper. But even though these are the words that leave your mouth, your body doesn’t obey. 

Your free hand caress his cheek, an invitation for him to come closer. Rain pours now, cold, hard, the raindrops almost hurting you, but neither of you seems to care. So you firmly plant a kiss on his lips. You hear him moan as his lips part to kiss you as he has wanted to kiss you since he first saw you stuck on those revolving doors. 

His hands on your back pull you closer to him, he wants to cover you with his body. You finally parted your lips for him. You don’t think. Everything happens so fast, your heartbeat quickens as you get to taste him, to feel almost consumed by him. Jungkook prays his will is strong enough to wait until you ask him to fuck you. But now his hand is on your neck, giving him better access to deepen the kiss. 

The heavy rain muffles the little cry that escapes you, but sinning never felt so good, it shouldn’t feel so good. Tiny sparks of electricity course through your veins and it seems you’ve never felt this alive before. The kiss breaks, leaving you both breathless, speechless. Until– 

“Do that again,” you say.

----------------------------------------

a/n: This is pure ✨fiction✨- this took me a while but I truly had a blast writing it. lmk if you want to be in the taglist.

taglist: @paramedicnerd004 | @darkuni63 | @bangtans-momma | @diorh0seokie

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts hard thoughts #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #namkook #astayinwonderland #rm smut #rm fanfic #rm scenarios #rm x reader #jk smut #jk imagine #namjoon fanfic #jungkook fanfic #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #yoongi fanfic #jimin fanfic #taehyung fanfic

[jeonbunnie]

promises

pairing: reader x namjoon

summary: marriage life with namjoon hasn’t been the same lately. he’s been cold and distant, always whispering on the phone. and you can’t help but notice…

genre: angst

content/warnings: established relationship; married!au; idol!namjoon; cheating/infidelity; implied sex; eventual smut; explicit sex

soundtrack: lemonade by beyoncé

a/n: this used to be a series but I decided to rework it into a oneshot. The plot is mostly the same, however now the reader gets to choose the big decision at the end (kind of like a choose your own adventure).

word count: 18k

Pray you catch me

♪ you can taste the dishonesty/ it's all over your breath, as you pass it off so cavalier. but even that's a test/constantly aware of it all/my lonely ear/pressed against the walls of your world. ♪

. . .

Something is wrong.

You don’t know how or when things changed, but something shifted between the two of you. There is a distance now, more tangible than the miles that separate you from him when he’s on business trips. Farther than the long-distance phone calls that became less and less frequent. Even now, as you lay in the same bed with him only a few feet away you can tell.

Something is wrong.

Because you can’t remember a time when you and Namjoon had ever been so far apart.

He would always come home late at night. Languid footsteps trailing towards the bedroom. Eyes tired and red from too many hours spent awake working on the newest album. Gravity pulled him down in a slump that could only be from the heaviness of leadership, from carrying the weight of the entire group.

And though he was exhausted, he would still find a way to come and take care of you. Even dead-tired, his warm brown eyes would light up and his lips would curl at the sight of you. He’d make his way over and pull you close, until your bodies became an entangled mess of arms and legs, chests pressed together as you curled into each other's warmth. His fingers would run soothingly through your hair and he’d ask you how your day went. The moments you spent within his arms seemed to make even the bad days good.

But it's been a long time since your husband held you close and melted away your bad days.

The clock on your nightstand reads 1:23 AM in angry red letters when his phone goes off in the middle of the night. You can hear the sheets rustle and feel whatever is left of his presence slip away as he sits up, answering on the second ring. “Hello?” Before you can even stop yourself the words are flying out of your mouth. “Who is it?”

The woman who speaks sounds nothing like you. Her voice is broken and fragile, spiked with worry and fear. He shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes because, “It’s just Yoongi.” The lie rolls off his tongue effortlessly. You are already hurting and the way he brushes you off tears right through you.

It’s not Yoongi. You know better. Your husband’s best friend loves his sleep and would never stir in the middle of the night. You want to confront him, put all your thoughts out in the open but before you can even gather the courage, he stands up, makes his way across the room and closes the door behind him, leaving you alone.

Again.

Somehow you can’t decide what’s more unsettling: the loneliness you feel when your husband leaves or the loneliness you feel when he’s around.

You are too unnerved to go back to sleep. Not that you are sleeping anyways. Now that you are truly awake to the situation before you, sleep does not come. You’ve been staying up for days, eyes wide open. But it was more than just insomnia. Your mind is awake with all the possibilities, visualizing every single scenario. You can’t close your eyes because in an instant you are there. Thinking about it all over again. You can't ignore it, nor pretend not to see it. You are not blind anymore. And so sleep does not come.

With every nerve on edge you throw back the covers and swing your legs out of bed. You can’t just lay there trapped within your own mind. You need a distraction—any distraction from the truth. Even if the only release you can find is putting your body into motion. You find yourself pacing back and forth, frazzled energy bouncing from one point to another.

Until you hear him laugh. It’s a deep and throaty noise that breaks through the walls and interrupts your racing thoughts. You find yourself tiptoeing closer to the sound, trying to be as quiet as you possibly can so you can creep up and press your ear up against the door to listen. How desperate you are, eavesdropping like this. You feel ashamed for sinking this low, but that shame does not stop you from wondering if you should get the glass from your nightstand so you can hear him better. If you could only hear what he was saying! But the words are muffled, like he’s talking underwater.

He used to talk to you all the time, share his innermost thoughts, his nightmares, his dreams. Talk to you about everything and nothing. Work and play. Past and present. But now, nothing.

Now all you got were glimpses of his world.

You used to be his world.

The realization leaves you cold and you press yourself closer to the light trickling through the cracked door. You can see him now. His back is turned towards you and he’s hunched over, phone clutched to his ear like he’s trying to keep all his secrets from spilling out of it. In that moment, you pray he will turn around so you can read his lips and decode whatever it is he’s whispering huskily into the receiver. You pray he will turn around and catch you. You wonder what he will do. Will he jump? Will he be angry?

Ironically, out of all the times you’ve prayed for God to answer you during your marriage, this is the prayer God answers because it happens. He turns around.

You expect to see the face of a cruel man. You could not have prepared yourself for what you do see. Because when he finally turns around, it’s not the face of a monster, but the face of your first love. Namjoon is smiling. Smiling. This is the moment your heart breaks. When was the last time he smiled at you like that? Pink lips pulled back, pearly whites gleaming. Dimples flashing in his cheeks. The way his eyes squint into tiny crescent moons.

When was the last time he smiled at you like that? You can’t remember. Your mind flickers through the memories filed in your head, though each image never seems to be quite right. Maybe because they are now clouded with suspicion. Was that last smile real? Or merely a mask?

The fact that you can’t be sure made you anxious. You can’t tell the difference because you didn’t know him anymore. Where was the man you loved? This person you do not recognize. His eyes are dark, lit with the desire you once thought was only reserved for you. You watch as his lips curl from a smile into a wicked grin.

Something is wrong.

You tried to fix it. The problem. You. It had you be you, didn’t it? Maybe he wanted someone more gentle. You tried to be meek, mild, and kind. Soft spoken, as you were always previously so assertive. You didn’t want to chase him off with harsh words or accusations. You wanted to be what he wanted. You thought that maybe he wanted someone sexy, so you tried to be that too. You made your eyes smokey and put on red dresses, even though you hated the color red. You wanted to be enough. You tried everything to get his attention, but it made no difference. You still ended up in this exact moment.

A sigh slips past your lips, almost a whimper. It’s the sound of loss.

This is when he sees you.

His smile disappears. Then he walks forward and closes the door in your face, shutting out the light and leaving you in darkness.

. . .

When he comes back to bed—wearing a scent that is distinctly not yours—it’s 5AM. He kisses your forehead and climbs underneath the sheets, yet the distance between you remains. Maybe you already know the answer to the questions that keep swirling in your mind. You don't want to believe that he broke his vows. But that hope does not stop the doubt you feel every time you look at his face.

Are you cheating on me?

Don’t Hurt Yourself

♪ I am the dragon breathing fire. Beautiful man I’m the lion Beautiful man I know you’re lying…. ♪

. . .

It is quiet in your house. The sun and it’s warm amber glow have long since disappeared, fading into black. The stillness is unusual. Normally you hate such things, always needing some sort of noise playing in the background like the tv or the radio while you clean up and do work, but not today. You need the silence so you can collect your thoughts and prepare yourself for what you are about to do.

You are done being passive. Sick and tired of sitting and waiting around for a man who did not so much as blink an eye at you. You are done crying. You already cried so much. All your tears have dried up and gone away. You can’t bring yourself to be sad anymore. There isn’t any room for you to hold inside two emotions. Especially when all you can feel now is anger.

You are mad as hell.

So you came home from work and sat down on the couch, waiting on him for one last time. Head held high, poised and collected. Muscles coiled and ready to pounce.

Just like clockwork, keys slide into the door and Namjoon comes in at a quarter to three, completely unaware of the situation he just stepped into. Looking up he stops, surprised to find you sitting in the living room. He can feel something is off. Sense it in your body language, see the difference in your eyes. For a minute, he wonders if you know what he’s been doing all night long...but that’s impossible right? How could you possibly know?

But you did know.

You watched nonchalantly as he flashed a casual grin your way. “Hey babe...what are you doing up so late?“ You didn’t respond right away, taking the time to examine him closely before you decide to speak.

“Where were you tonight?”

The second the words leave your mouth there’s a shift in the atmosphere. Thick silence fills the space between you, but your eyes never leave him. You see him blink, catch the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows down a gulp, note a flicker of emotion pass in his face too brief to figure out the expression. Was that fear? Was he nervous?

But then he laughs. It’s almost a scoff as his eyebrows pull together he shakes his head in what masks as confusion. “What?”

“I know you heard me Namjoon, I’m not going to ask you again.”

“What are you talking about? I was with the guys tonight, we—”

“Don’t,” you stop him, holding up a hand. ”Don’t do that. Don’t lie to my face. I am so tired of you lying to me, please for once just be honest.”

He doesn’t say a word, only sighs and runs his fingers through silver locks and as unsatisfactory as it is, you realize this action is the closest you’ll ever get to a confession. But it’s not enough. Your hands come up to rest on your face almost like prayer before you ask your next question.

“Did you sleep with her?”

“God (Y/N), are we really doing this right now?”

Anger presses up against your chest and before you know it, you’re on your feet. “Yes, Namjoon, we are really doing this right now. Because I can’t stand one more minute of this fake marriage. I’m not stupid. I see you! And I’m not going to pretend like I don’t anymore.”

“Fine. Fine! What do you want me to say, huh? What do you want?”

“I want the truth!”

He fixes his gaze, eyes locked on you. “Oh, you want the truth? Ok here’s the truth. Yes, I was with her tonight, and yes I fucked her, and it was the best goddamn fuck I’ve had in months. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?”

His words hit you like a bullet to the heart. No, you weren’t happy. You wanted his candor but not this. His tone...the way he was talking to you...You almost couldn’t believe it. How could he? The man you called your husband would never so much as raise his voice towards you. Yet here he was, spitting out cruelty. The brutality of his words mixed with his contempt was too much. Your nails dug into the couch as you tried to steady yourself, tried to push through the pain.

Your mind was swimming with information, trying to come to terms with the new knowledge but one question still lingered. You had to ask:

“Why?”

“Fuck, why? I’m on tour all the time, It’s not like you’re around?”

Are you kidding me?

Whatever pain you felt quickly turned to anger and you whipped around to face him.

“Who the fuck do you think I am Namjoon?! You didn’t marry one of your little groupies. I have a job and a life! I can’t just drop everything and follow you around the world like some love-sick puppy!”

“Yeah well, maybe if you did I wouldn’t have needed to find someone else.”

The nerve of this man!

“So you want my entire world to revolve around you? You are so selfish! As if I don’t already do everything for you. I cook, when you come home at night there’s dinner on the table. I keep this house spotless, but it’s not like you’re even here to notice--”

“I’m not here cuz I’m too busy working the job that got you this house in the first place!”

“Wow. So it’s ok for you to be away from me on your job, but if I can’t be there for you then I’m the problem?” You stared him in the face, only to be met with a glare to rival your own.

“You’re a real piece of work Namjoon.”

How is it that he could look at your relationship and see only your flaws, but never his own? You should have known better than to put all your faith in a man with a god-complex. He only ever cared about himself and his own career. All he had were excuses. You started to walk away from him when his next words stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh please, don’t act like you’re so perfect. It’s not like you haven’t done it.”

You cast an incredulous look over your shoulder. “Excuse me?”

Just what is he trying to imply?

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Now who’s playing dumb. I’m not stupid either, I know you’re seeing him behind my back.”

This again? “How many times do I have to tell you, Jackson is just a friend.”

“You’re a fucking liar. He doesn’t look at you like ‘just a friend’, I know you slept with him.”

Now you were furious. You took several steps towards him till you were so close you could feel his heated breath on your face. “Let’s not get it twisted, I’m not the cheater—You are!” you said, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You don’t get to put this on me! You and I both know I’m not the one who’s unfaithful!”

By the end of your sentence you found yourself out of breath, panting. You were shouting the entire time. Unable to keep the fire inside; your fury, abated. You looked at your husband, finally eye to eye and sighed.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” You spoke, your voice coming out much softer than either of you had expected. “I wouldn't do anything to disrespect you like the way you disrespect me.”

Once again silence swelled within the room and all you could do was look at him and wonder how you had ended up here. The two of you never used to fight, not like this. It was never this bad. But things were different now.

“W-why did you do this to me? To us?” On your wedding day you both took vows to be united as one in this relationship. He was hurting himself just as much as he was hurting you but he was so wrapped up in his own pride that he couldn't see it.

“Are you even sorry?”

Namjoon didn't say a word.

You closed your eyes and counted to ten, trying to find some kind of peace. But by the time you finished counting your anger still hadn't subsided. You couldn't find peace because there was no peace here.

Everything in this relationship was so, so hard. You couldn't pick up the broken shards of your relationship all by yourself and he wasn't even trying to fix it.

“I can't—I can't do this anymore”

Namjoon narrowed his eyes. “Can't do what anymore?”

“This!” You yelled, throwing your arms out.

“You. Me. Us. I can’t do it anymore and I don't want to.”

And with that you spun on your heel making a direct line for the bedroom. You could hear him follow behind you, but you didn't care. Your mind was focusing on something else now.

All you cared about was getting the hell out of there. You went into the closet and pulled out an overnight bag, snatching clothes off hangers and stuffing them inside.

“What are you doing?”

You had to laugh at his question. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m leaving you.”

You didn’t stop packing. After taking out enough clothes you grabbed your bag and walked out of the closet. On your way you caught a glimpse of Namjoon with a blank expression on his face.

“Don’t tell me you're actually surprised?”

Brushing past him, you made your way to the bathroom. “I was so blindly in love with you that even when I knew—I knew what you were doing, I tried to stay. But I deserve better. I deserve so much more than you.”

After gathering the rest of your stuff you turn around to walk out the door only to find Namjoon leaning against the frame. Taking in his image made your steps falter.

He looked strong and athletic in a white muscle tee. His arms were crossed over his chest, a gesture built out of displeasure, but only served to highlight the curve of his biceps. When you finally tore your eyes away from his body and up to look at his face, you sighed. He was clenching his jaw, showing off all his angles while his lips pushed out into the perfect pout. His eyes as always were dark, intense, and fixed on you.

Well, not always fixed on you.

He was so beautiful and you hated him for it. Or rather how he made you feel. He could still make your heart skip a beat even as it was breaking.

Yes, you still loved him. But clearly his love for you didn’t run quite as deep.

“So what now? You want a divorce? You signed the prenup. You're not going to get any money out of me.” He growled, voice deep and raspy.

There he goes again, always so damn arrogant…..His words served as a reminder. This is why you had to go. You broke eye contact, concentrating on zipping up your bag. “You can keep your money. I’ve got my own, and I can take care of myself.”

You crossed in front of him, swiftly taking a pair shoes then sitting on the bed to put them on. It dawned on you that he didn’t even ask you to stay. But then again, although it hurt to make this decision, you didn’t have to blink away any tears.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

You laced up your shoes, pulling the strings tight. “I don’t know.” You snapped. “Since you seem to think all I do is sneak around behind your back, maybe I’ll go see Jackson. Or maybe I’ll go out and find me another man. All I know is, I’m never coming back to you. I can promise you that.”

You weren’t playing nice but you were honestly so done with his attitude, mistreatment, and all the pain he caused you. Confident in your decision, you got your bag and stood up, striding towards the exit.

“Hey!”

You ignored him.

“Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you!”

“Kiss my ass, Namjoon!” You sassed, walking out the door and out of his life.

Resentment

♪ I may never understand why. I’m doing the best that I can. And I tried, and I tried to forget this. But I’m much too full of resentment…

. . .

Kim Namjoon knew you would probably leave him if you found out about his affair.

You weren’t the type of woman to let yourself be walked all over, and honestly he was surprised you’d let him get away with it for so long. For months you put up with the late night calls, the sneaking around, the constant lies...And he watched the light dim in your eyes as he broke his vows. It wasn’t like he wanted to cheat on you—not at first.

But anytime he was away from you on tour he just got so lonely.

Sure he had his bandmates and his fans but when the stage lights turned off and the cheers died down none of that was enough to keep him going. Whenever he got by himself it’s like the floodgates opened up. And all the pressure, the high expectations, the push for success, the hate, all of it came washing over him.

And Namjoon felt like he was drowning in it.

As much as he wanted to tell you what ailed him, he didn’t wanna put you under any more stress. You were already constantly worrying about his welfare, filled to the brim with your own concerns. He didn’t think it fair to make you shoulder his burdens as well. But holding all his feelings inside only made things worse.

The helplessness, the anxiety...he just wanted to make it go away. Even if only for a moment. And that’s all it was. A moment of weakness.

The first time it happened he regretted it immediately. He stayed up the whole night, staring at the ceiling, consumed by his guilt. It was the biggest mistake he had ever made. He planned to go home and just come clean, tell you everything that happened. Then beg and beg for your forgiveness.

All he could do on the plane ride back home was pray to God you would somehow take him back.

But then he saw your face. The bright smile you gave him when he walked in the door and heard the joy in your voice as you greeted him. Felt your love as you curled into his embrace, nudged your head in the crook of his neck and whispered “I missed you so much”.

How could he tell you the truth then? How could he tell you what he had done, that he’d broken his promise and given himself to another? He wasn’t even on stage, yet here you were, looking at him with stars in your eyes. You were the only person who truly knew him, flaws included, and despite it all you still loved him.

He couldn’t watch the love and devotion in your eyes turn to hatred and disgust. He couldn’t cope with the reality of the situation. The fact that your heart might close to him forever, that you might leave him.

And then he’d really be alone.

No, that couldn’t happen. If you left..? At the time, he hadn’t wanted to even think about it. So instead of doing the right thing and being honest he closed himself off. If only to keep himself from breaking down. Everytime he looked at you he felt ashamed of his actions. It didn’t feel right, lying to you. Maintaining a distance was the only way he could keep his secret a secret.

The second time it happened, it wasn’t a mistake. A mistake repeated more than once is a decision. And when temptation swept by, manifesting itself in long legs and a warm body to hold at night, Namjoon couldn’t resist.

The guilt hit him just as hard, if not harder than the last time. If he had to face you in that moment without a doubt he would have spilled out all the ugly truth. But it didn’t happen that way. He was on tour for an even longer time than usual, and the separation gave him more than enough time to compose himself, to bury the guilt far enough where it would not resurface. But in doing so he had to become a different person to you. Hard. Cold to the touch.

It affected him as much as it affected you. With every shrug and look of indifference, every evasion he could feel himself slipping further and further away from the man he wanted to be, from the man that you deserved.

And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to stop.

The third time it happened, you knew. Even now he couldn’t figure out what tipped you off. He knew there wasn’t any lipstick on his cheek or lingering perfume (Namjoon was stupid for cheating, but he wasn’t that stupid). Nothing tangible to hold your suspicion but you felt it. You questioned him, asking things like ‘what’s wrong?’ and ‘did something happen tonight?’, each inquiry only put him on edge and he snapped at you, starting a fight to distract you from the truth.

That night he left home, seeking comfort in the arms of the first girl he cheated with. He crossed a line that night. He knew he shouldn’t have met with her. But she already put her number in his phone and he was too much of a coward to be left alone with his thoughts in a hotel room. But in doing so he opened up pandora's box. He lay in her bed as she stroked his ego, telling him how important he was, how much better he deserved.

And soon enough he started to believe it. That he was better than you and that you were somehow, not enough for him. His superiority somehow justified him stepping outside his marriage. He found himself faultless, thinking it was your job to keep his interest and if he wasn’t happy, it was only his right to seek out happiness elsewhere.

But now, sitting alone in this dark house, all Namjoon could see was how wrong he was. So very, very wrong.

Months. You’ve been gone for months now. At first, he barely missed you. He didn’t have to. The very next day he had to fly out to Tokyo for a concert and he went back to his regular routine. Practice. Performing. Parties. The occasional girl to keep him satisfied. He didn’t need you then. And why would he? When he had all the people surrounding him, screaming his name. Singing his praises. He had no need to miss you until he went home. And that's when reality sunk in.

He came home to more than just an empty house. As the days rolled by he came to realize just how much you took care of him. Not just as a homemaker but as a mate. You were his heart, the sun and moon, his entire world. Namjoon could have killed the man who said you don’t know what you have until it’s gone because as cliché as it was, the expression couldn’t have been more accurate and the truth stabbed him like a knife.

The loneliness he felt when without you was ten times worse than when he was with you.

Your presence had a bigger impact on him than he could have imagined. Something about your ambience was instantly calming. Even if you weren’t doing anything together, whether it be just sitting on the couch or laying in bed beside him your being there gave him peace.

He tried to fill the void, find your image in the millions of girls that threw themselves at him, the women he led to his bed deep within the night. But there was no recreating you.

Namjoon hadn’t known peace since the day you left.

If it was possible he was even more restless than before. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had a full night's sleep. It had to be retribution for all the nights he kept you awake with the creeping thoughts of his betrayal. You, the love of his life, who he took for granted.

He ruined the best thing that ever happened to him, for his own selfish desires.

All because he lied.

And now all he wanted was a chance to get you back.

He pulled out his cell phone, trying to reach you again. He couldn’t keep track of all the times he called your phone, only to be met with your voicemail.

When he watched you walk out that door…a part of him hadn’t really recognized it as real. He was too full of himself to see it happening. His ego told him you’d be back, that you wouldn’t—couldn’t—really leave him. You’d cool off for a couple of days, then come back and try to make things work because that’s the type of person that you were.

He knew you were strong. Strong enough to move past his mistakes. He just didn’t know you were strong enough to move past him entirely.

Namjoon runs a hand across his face, dials your number, and prays. He’s not necessarily sure who or what he’s praying to, but he could really use a miracle right now. Because that’s what it would take for you to actually pick up the phone.

“(Y/n) please, please pick up.”

The phone rings once, twice, three times and then—

"We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

He hangs up, angry.

He doesn’t have the right to be angry, that much he knows. Mercy and grace from the woman he scorned is far too much to ask for, but he needs you, and he’s desperate, so he’s asking anyway.

Namjoon foolishly made the mistake of thinking that you couldn't live without him. But it was he who was the one who couldn’t live without you.

So he’ll keep calling. Even if it only goes to voicemail. He’ll keep leaving message after message after message.

Whatever it takes.

…

♪ I may never understand why. I'm doing the best that I can. And I tried, and I tried to forget this. But I'm much too full of resentment...♪

…

You wake up to the sound of your phone ringing. You didn’t have to check caller ID to know who was on the other side of that line. Annoyed, you sighed and rolled over onto your side. Curling up into the couch, you choose the warmth and sweet bliss of sleep over another argument.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?”

“No.” You answered without so much as opening your eyes.

Behind you, you could hear Jackson moving around, presumably to shut off your phone (you didn’t care enough to look).

The ringing grew louder and louder and soon enough you could feel your phone vibrating against your back. “(Y/n), answer the phone.”

“No.” You repeated, throwing the cover over your head. It’s entirely too early for this. Didn’t he have something to do? Wasn’t he busy? You didn’t understand it. Now that you were separated, he suddenly had all the time in the world to call you?

You could hear Jackson sigh behind you. “I swear if I have to hear your ringtone one more time—I’m going to lose my mind. Just answer the phone!”

“If it bothers you so much, why don’t YOU answer it!”

“M-me! Me?” Jackson sputtered. “Do you want me to die? Do you know what that man would do to me if he found out you were staying with me? He would kill me.”

That much was true. Namjoon would be furious to find out you’d been staying with your male best friend, which is exactly why you went to Jackson’s place when you left him.

Was it petty? Yes. Was it worth it? Hell yes.

If his feelings and pride were hurt than good, that made two of you.

“I mean, I could probably take him. But Namjoon when he’s angry is a totally different person. Actually no, he wouldn’t just kill me. It would be murder in the First degree. I’m not answering.”

“Then put it on silent. I don’t care, I’m not talking to him.”

Suddenly, the warmth of your blanket was ripped away from you, forcing you out of your bubble of comfort. “Did you—did you just snatch my cover off? Jackson!”

“(Y/n),” He said, coming closer and taking your hands in his. “You are my best friend and you know I’m only saying this out of a place of love, but this has to stop. You have to go.”

“You’re kicking me out?”

“Look, it’s not like I don’t want you here, I love having you around you know that. It’s just—you’ve been hiding out on my couch for a couple of months now—”

“—Hiding! I’m not hiding!!!”

“And I refuse to harbour a fugitive anymore.”

“I’m not a fugitive…” you grumbled.

Jackson shot you a cross look.“Namjoon is searching high and low for you and you’re avoiding him here, in my apartment.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ok, AND?”

“And! I really don’t think staying here is doing you any good. You are not dealing with what happened. It’s not healthy. He’s calling for a reason, you need to talk to him. You can’t run away from this…”

You bit down on your lip, contemplating everything he said. He wasn’t really wrong. But you were far too exhausted to deal with Namjoon again.

You couldn’t go through another fight.

You weren’t angry. At least, not in the way you were before. The last of your anger had been exerted in a fit of rage when you returned to your home to pick up some things you left behind. This is what you told yourself. A lot of damage had been done. Broken dishes, shattered glass, photos ripped out from picture frames. Tiny vengeful acts that piled up to one huge mess. After all of it you were only partially satisfied. But that time had come and gone, you didn’t think you had any more fight in you.

You were filled with too much bitterness, too much resentment for any of that.

No matter what, you still couldn’t wrap your brain around it. How could he do this to you? You thought that having him speak the truth and actually admit to what he did would give you peace of mind but all it did was give you more questions than answers. Now just the thought of talking to him made bile rise up in your throat.

“I...I don’t even know what I would say to him.”

Jackson narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have to say anything. He’s the one who fucked up, he should be doing all the talking.” His expression softened. “But...I think you should listen. If this is really over, you need closure.”

“And on that note, you’re gonna pick up the next time that phone rings or I will revoke your couch privileges!” He said, standing up with a smile on his face.

“I hate you for this.” You growled at him.

He smiled back at you, “I love you too.” He kissed your cheek, placing your cellphone in your hand, then left for his bedroom.

You looked down at the piece of metal in you hand and sighed. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t talk to him. And yet...there was still this small part of you that wanted to hear his voice. Determined to ignore that emotion you stood up from the couch, headed straight for the kitchen. Stress eating had become a terribly bad habit of yours, but you couldn’t help it. You were the type of person who ate her feelings (and honestly, food does make everything better).

You were shuffling through last night's leftovers, trying to decide if you should heat up a plate of dukbokki or humor yourself with dessert for breakfast when Jackson’s home phone went off.

You waited a bit, figuring he would pick up eventually, but he didn’t. “Jacksonnnn~”, you whined. Nothing. Whatever, you thought. I’ll just let it go to voicemail.

You turned back to the fridge, taking out a pint of ice cream when the beep of the machine sounded and a voice broke through the apartment's silence.

“Hey (Y/n),” At the sound of your name you immediately stopped everything and froze.

“It���s me, Hobi. I know you’re crashing at Jackson’s right now,” Your jaw dropped. How could he know that? You didn’t tell anyone where you were going.

You could hear him giggling on the phone. “Don’t worry I’m not gonna tell. I know you don’t wanna hear anything that I have to say but I’m still gonna say it anyway.”

“Namjoon’s a mess...We've been through a lot together—I’ve never seen him like this before. He made a mistake. A big mistake, and he knows it. But he loves you more than anything. Just hear him out okay? And not for him, but for you...I know you still love him too. Call me back, yeah? If you want, you can ditch him but don’t ditch us! We all miss you over here…..Take care of yourself.”

By the time the message ended you had teary eyes, only half a pint of ice cream left, and a decision to make. Suddenly, you didn’t have much of an appetite.

And then the phone rings. Your phone.

You let it buzz for a bit. Fully determined to ignore his call once again. But you couldn’t stop looking at the phone. Everyone’s words were circling in your head. What if your friends were right? Were you making a mistake? Would you regret this in the future?

The phone just keeps ringing. You wished it would stop so you didn’t have to think about any of this. You closed your eyes and decided to let fate make the choice for you. If he called back, you would use the last bit of fight in you to answer the phone. But if the phone call ended and he didn’t call back...then you’d really be done and let everything be.

Your ringtone died and you held your breath, waiting.

There was a long pause. Nothing.

Maybe he'll give up. Maybe he’s sick of all this too.

Expect—the phone rings again. Namjoon was still fighting for you.

So you pick up your phone, press the answer button, and put the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

…

♪ Loving you was easy once upon a time. But now my suspicions of you have multiplied. And it's all because you lied. ♪

…

“(Y/n)?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“I......I didn’t think you would actually pick up the phone.”

“Neither did I…”

Silence is a funny thing. It’s nothing, and everything at the same time. Somehow the emptiness is still able to fill a void. Nothing is said aloud, but a thousand words are said in the silent space between you and Namjoon. It’s probably only been a few seconds, but it feels like minutes have gone by, or maybe even hours. In those moments of suspended time you decide you don’t want to listen to anything coming from him. Not even this silence.

It’s almost as if he can hear your thoughts. “Don’t hang up!”

His voice is rushed, desperate…..and soothing. Though you’ll never admit that you miss the sound of his voice. Your intellect tells you not to listen. To block him out. Hang up the phone, and move on with your life, you don’t need anything from him...Maybe that was true. But underneath all the hurt, and the deeply buried anger, there was a part of you that wanted something from him.

What that something was you couldn’t tell, but it was enough to make you linger.

When you didn’t hang up, Namjoon spoke. “I called you. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for months now.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you answer?” His voice was strangled, raw. If you didn’t know any better you would think him to be holding back tears. But you couldn't even remember the last time you saw Namjoon cry.

“Maybe I wasn’t ready to talk. Everything isn’t always about you.”

You can hear Namjoon take in a breath on the other side of the line and you imagine him clenching the phone in a fist, the way he always does when he makes an important phone call. The silence stretches on for a beat too long and you’re two seconds away from hanging up again when he speaks. “I don’t wanna fight. I didn’t call to argue with you.”

His words are soft, yet you still find yourself on edge. “Then what do you want, Namjoon?”

“I want to see you.”

“No.” You said, shaking your head. Not gonna happen. You find yourself pacing against the kitchen floor. “I don’t want to see you.”

“Why not?”

His words are a match, igniting your fury and immediately all of the anger you worked so hard to keep suppressed comes bubbling up to the surface. “Why not? Are you serious?!”

“After everything you’ve done you really think I wanna see your sorry face again?” Tears filled your eyes—but you were frustrated—not sad. You were letting him get to you. Namjoon always made you feel too much. You knew you’d get worked up if you talked to him, it’s why you put it off for so long. You worked too hard to try and keep yourself together for him to tear you apart again.

You want this to end. “I have nothing to say to you. Goodbye, Namjoon--”

You take the phone from your ear, ready to press end call, and you would have, if you didn’t hear his faint voice through the speaker say: “If you feel anything for me at all, don't hang up!”

You can’t do it. Hang up. You won't lie to yourself. But you can’t force out a response either. Instead, you lean against the counter, letting the silence take over as you wait for Namjoon to form his next sentence. “I don’t blame you for wanting nothing to do with me. I didn’t call you to make you upset. I just want to talk about us.”

Us. What a foreign concept. You try picturing it in your mind but no matter what, you still can’t form a full image with the two of you together. You’d been apart for so long, and if you really thought about it, the separation began long before you ever left home.

“There hasn’t been an us for a long time. I tried to talk to you before—look what happened. I’m tired Namjoon. I just—I can’t keep doing the same thing over, and over again.”

“It’s not going to be the same.”

You frown. “How can you say that?”

“Because...I’m not the same. I’ve had a lot of time to think things over. I know I fucked up (Y/n), I’m so sorry.” You scoff at his poor attempt at an apology. “I’m supposed to accept that? You think you can just call me up, apologize over the phone, and everything will be okay?”

“No, of course not.” You hear him exhale sharply. “I know it’s going to take more than that. But it’s not gonna get better if we don’t talk about it. We can’t move forward if we don’t talk.”

“What makes you think I want to move forward?”

“You didn’t hang up…”

You hate that he’s right. You want to pretend like it didn’t mean anything but it did. It would be so much easier to just let it go—to let him go. Beyond all reason, you’re still hanging on to this relationship.

“Can we just talk, please. Just...just come home.”

“That’s not my home. It’s not. So much shit has happened in that place…” Your voice cracked and you couldn’t even finish your sentence.

How could you call that place home? Nothing felt right there. All it held were bad memories. Thinking of it only brought back the nights you spent alone, those times you cried yourself to sleep, and the worst fight you ever had with Namjoon. There was no peace there. You couldn't go back to that broken place. You feel a tear roll down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away. This time you knew the tears you cry come from pain, not frustration.

Dammit, I said I wouldn’t cry for him anymore!

“It is your home. It’s our home. You can come back anytime.”

“I don’t want to!”

“Okay, okay.” he said, his voice gentle. It was the same voice he used to use when he used to talk you down from your bad days. You could tell he was trying to calm you down, and it made you angry that it was kind of working. He suggested an alternative: “You don’t have to come home. Let’s just meet up somewhere.”

You don’t want that either. “Namjoon...Do you have any idea what you put me through?...W-why would I want to see you? Why would I want to hear anything you have to say?”

“I..I don’t have an answer to that. But I know you deserve an explanation.”

That made you quiet. These past months all you did was ask yourself why. Why did he do it? What reason did he have for breaking your heart? And there were so many more questions. You knew you wouldn’t get any peace of mind until they’re answered. It was what you wanted. No, needed.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll do it,” You conceded. “Where should we meet up?” You were not going ‘home’. You don’t feel comfortable there. There was a lull on the other line as Namjoon thought of a location.

“Can we meet at our place?”

. . .

You knew exactly what Namjoon meant when he said “our place”. When the two of you first started dating, it was really hard for you to be together. You work as a stylist at a fashion magazine and you met him and the other boys while working at a photoshoot. Namjoon caught your eye with his intuitive gaze and cool persona. He spoke to everyone on set with a natural esteem you found attractive. You were so surprised when you actually got the chance to speak to him and he turned out to be nothing like he appeared.

Gone was the calm, collected image you saw in front of the camera. Namjoon stuttered when he asked for your name, his cheeks bloomed into a rosy red. His nervousness charmed you, and in that moment, somehow you knew you would end up falling for him hard.

It didn’t take very much for you to give him your number. But finding a spot to go on a date with the famous rapper proved a bit more difficult. You never liked the idea of sneaking around, but you understood why. Namjoon wanted to keep things private to protect you, just in case the news of him dating didn’t go well with the public. For a long time it seemed like there was never going to be a place where Namjoon wasn’t recognized.

All the face masks and hats in the world couldn’t hide his fame. You grew tired of being swarmed in coffee shops and restaurants. You just wanted a place where you could talk, maybe hold his hand, and be at peace. Ironically, you found it when you stopped looking. It ended up not even being in a building, but instead an empty park.

Its lush greenery held quiet beauty. Not very many people knew about it, which made it perfect.

Some of the biggest conversations you ever had as a couple were spoken out here, and today was no different.

You walk up to a table nearby, tugging on the hem of your white summer dress. Fidgeting like this makes you feel stupid. You shouldn’t be nervous. If anyone should be nervous for today’s meeting it would be Namjoon. But ever since you agreed to see him, a bad feeling formed in the pit of your stomach. You didn't want to be nervous. You didn’t feel like you’d make it out of this alive if you were. You had to be steel. Strong, unbreakable. You couldn’t allow yourself to get hurt again.

It did not surprise you to see him there early. He was the type of person who liked to be punctual. Or at least he used to be. You had to remind yourself that he wasn’t the same person you married. You didn’t know anything about him. Hell, after the last few months you were still trying to figure out some things about yourself.

Under the shade of the table's umbrella, Namjoon sits, bouncing his leg up and down. The only other time you’d seen him this nervous was during BTS’s first dome concert. His head faces down, staring at the ground with a look so intense he doesn’t even notice you approach him. The daze is broken once you sit down on the bench.

Namjoon jumps up, eyes wide as he looks at your face. “Y-you came?!”

It takes all your strength not to roll your eyes. Obviously...you thought.

He clears his throat, quickly sitting back down. “Thank you.”

For a while you just look at each other. You have to calm your heart as you take in his appearance. He’s just as handsome as you remembered. But something was different. He changed his hair. His silver locks were now a honeyed blonde. The warm glow of his skin had disappeared. And his once bright eyes now hold dark circles underneath them. He looked like shit, but you were still attracted to him, what logic was that?

The air tenses with silence, the way it always seems to do when you’re around him now. This is a mistake. Neither of you know where to begin. You hate it, but you know this conversation will never get anywhere if you don’t initiate it. “You said you wanted to explain. So explain.”

Namjoon looks tense. “I-i don’t even know where to start.”

That irritates you. You came all this way, and he didn’t even plan what he was going to say?

“What about the beginning?”

Namjoon sighed. He licked his lips, folded his hands, and then he did it. He told you everything. He told you about his anxiety, and the loneliness he felt. The desire to make it all fade away even for just a few moments. How he almost came clean the first time around. And the guilt that festered inside him for keeping the secret for so long.

“I wanted to tell you. But I knew I couldn’t tell you I cheated and keep you I—” Namjoon stopped. He looked away from you, biting down hard on his bottom lip before returning his gaze to yours.

“I was selfish. And I was wrong. There is no excuse for what I did. I’m so sorry, (Y/n).”

Your lips parted in shock. Going into this situation, you expected things to go a whole lot different. You expected him to try and defend himself, or at least blame you for the reason he cheated…but that wasn’t happening. Namjoon wasn’t trying to justify what he did, but instead taking full responsibility for his actions. Those words weren’t coming from the same man you walked away from. That man was filled with too much pride to even acknowledge his own actions—let alone apologize for them.

His actions surprised you. It was almost enough to make you drop your guard. Almost.

“I know you have questions. I’ll answer anything you ask me honestly, I swear.”

You paused. This is the moment you've been waiting for, and now that it was finally here you didn't know what to say. There were so many questions you wanted to ask. But you want to be sure you'll ask the right questions. And that you're prepared to hear the answers. Once you got the information you were dying to hear, you couldn't give it back. You’d have to live with it.

Finally, you spoke. “How’d you do it? How’d you keep this a secret for so long?”

“I kept a second phone hidden.”

The answer came with some relief. You knew you weren’t crazy, that there was some secret method to his deceit. The idea had come once or twice to go through his phone, but you knew Namjoon would never be that messy. “Did anyone else know?”

He nodded once, and a wave of aggravation rippled through you. “Some of the members knew.”

“Are you serious?” You laugh, but the sound felt hollow coming from your lips. “They must think I’m so stupid….”

“You know they don’t think that, they love you.”

You grimaced. Yeah, right. “Not enough to let me know the truth.”

Briefly you wondered which members knew and what kept them from coming to you, but you tried to push those thoughts away. You came here with questions for Namjoon. Nothing else mattered.

“Was it emotional?” You asked. “Did you love her?”

He shook his head vigorously. “No. No, it was just physical. They didn't mean anything to me.”

All the blood in your body went cold. “They?”

Namjoon opens his mouth. Then closed it again. “Shit.” He hoped to leave that part out of this meeting. A part of him knew it wouldn't be fair to you but would the truth really be any better?

“.....There was more than one girl?”

He ran a hand down his face then nodded, avoiding eye contact. “Yes.”

Through gritted teeth you ask, “How many?”

You wait for an answer but this time Namjoon keeps quiet. “You said you'd answer anything.”

“I know—”

“So that was a lie?”

“No.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Then why won't you tell me?”

Namjoon tensed, jaw clenching. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You narrowed your gaze on him. “Well it’s too fucking late for that don’t you think? ‘Honestly’, huh? You’re so full of shit Namjoon. Being honest means telling the whole truth. All of it!”

“How many?” You press. Part of you is afraid of the answer but you still need to know.

You wait, staring him down but Namjoon looked away. He can’t say it looking you in the eye, instead he buries his face in his hands then mutters out the word three.

“Three?” You repeat.

You lean back from him, gripping the edge of the table. It felt like the world was spinning around you. Wow. Three girls. Three different girls.

Sensing your distress Namjoon quickly added. “They're just girls. They don’t matter.”

You shook your head, refusing to accept that for an answer. “Of course they matter. You made a choice to go to them, instead of me. I have to know why. What did they have that I didn’t?”

“Everything.”

Ouch, okay. You close your eyes as the pain from that statement washes all over you. The pain you feel isn’t new, but familiar. Like reopening an old wound. But Namjoon isn’t finished. Before you can even process his words he speaks again. “They were selfish, demanding, and manipulative...the complete opposite of you.”

You feel your brows pull together. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? The fact that all the women you slept with are somehow lesser than me?”

Namjoon looks confused and hurt. “(Y/n), I don't know what you want from me. I can’t change the past, all I can say is I’m sorry.”

For so long all you wanted was for him to apologize. Really apologize. No excuses, no bullshit. But now that you finally heard it, sorry just didn’t feel like enough. Instead his words make you feel empty inside. Sorry, isn’t enough to stay. You want to leave now.

Clearing your throat, you got ready to go. “I don’t know what to say to that and I don’t have anymore question so—”

“Can I ask you a question?”

You huffed out a sigh. “Fine.”

“Why did you leave? You said you'd never leave me.”

You feel yourself flush with frustration. “And you said you'd never cheat on me. Promises mean nothing. Words, mean nothing. The only thing that matters is how you act.”

“Besides,” You said, looking away from him to the beautiful summer landscape. “You didn't try to stop me. It's like you didn't even care.”

“Of course I cared. I made a mistake—”

Standing up, you slam your hands down on the table. “It was not. A mistake! Oh my god! How can you still not get it? Cheating is a choice! You made a choice! You think I didn’t get lonely all those nights I spent by myself? You think you’re the only man who’s ever approached me???”

“Of course not—”

“No. Of course not! Because I’m a catch, Namjoon.” Not caring how loud you get, you raise your voice. “I am kind, I am smart, I am ambitious, I am beautiful. You had to be out of your fucking mind to cheat on me!” You said, pressing your index finger against your temple.

You’re crying now, hot tears streaming down your face.“Why can’t you see that? Everyone else can.”

It’s the only question that goes unanswered. Namjoon stares at you, eyes glistening, but he doesn’t say a word.

“I can’t do this,” You wiped at your wet face frantically, standing up to leave.

(Y/n), please.” Namjoon moved to stop you but you ripped out of his grasp.

“I have to go.” You say reaching for your bag, ready to walk away from him, from your marriage, and all the hurt he just laid at your feet.

Love Drought

♪ Nine times out of ten, I'm in my feelings. But ten times out of nine, I'm only human. Tell me, what did I do wrong? Feel like that question has been posed. I'm movin' on.

. . .

You haven't seen Namjoon but that doesn’t stop you from thinking about him.

You think about him almost every single day. What was he doing? How was he moving on without you? Was he moving on at all, or was he just sitting around somewhere...waiting for you to come back?

All these questions only fueled your anxiety and your determination to stay as far away as possible from Namjoon. If you didn’t see him, if you went away...Then those questions would go away too, right? You were going for the whole ‘out of sight out of mind thing’. But it wasn’t working. Because even though you said you were done—Namjoon still had pieces of you. Literally. Your things still remained untouched at the house.

You meant it when you said you didn’t want to go back home. But you needed to come get your belongings. It takes all of your strength to make the drive over without stopping to throw up, or cry. Stepping inside the place where your marriage died was the last thing you wanted to do on your day off. You put off the inevitable for months but it’s time now, you’re moving on, and you’re moving out.

So why was it so hard for you to move past the front door?

You stood there, frozen at the threshold. Heart aching at the thought of what you’re about to do. Fuck (Y/n), you cursed at yourself.You’re a grown ass woman, you can do this. Get in there. It was dead quiet in the house, as you hoped. You’re too much of a coward to call Namjoon and let him know you’re coming to take the last of your things. Couldn’t even text him. No message you typed out felt right. Anything you had to say you already told him. At this point, you both know your marriage is at its end. All you can do is pray that he won’t be there the same time you are. It’s why you chose to come in the evening. Namjoon wouldn’t be home until very late at night because of his schedule. It would give you enough time to get most of your things packed up.

Bawling your hands into fists you gripped your door key tightly, slid it in the keyhole, and unlocked the door. You take two steps inside, close the door behind you, and it feels as though you’ve stepped through time. It’s like nothing’s changed. You don’t quite know what you were expecting. You didn’t have any expectations coming over, but now looking at the space before you, you decided this isn’t it.

The house isn’t spotless, but it’s tidy, neat. In stark contrast from the last time you were here, and the fit you threw. Somehow you expected the house to look exactly in that state: broken. But nothing’s really changed. Soon your feet take on movement of their own, walking you towards the bedroom. Being back in that room is strange. It's almost as if you never left him at all. The sunset pools through the window, drowning the bed in light that looks like honey. The space has the essence of your home. The only difference you feel now is the emptiness. You spent many nights home without Namjoon but it never felt like this.

This time you’re really all by yourself. You don’t live in the same house anymore, but you're not completely alone living off your bestfriends couch. It’s been years since you’ve remembered what it feels like to be without a partner. You wondered...This emptiness...Is this what it would feel like to live without Namjoon?

You swallow down a sob, trying not to drown in your loneliness and turn and walk into the closet. Remember why you're here. Get your things, you just have to make it through these next few minutes. You reminded yourself that the hard part, the confrontation (and the leaving) was already over. All you have to do now is pack.

Strange enough your heart still aches, though not in the way it did before. This is not the ache of betrayal. You truly believed that pain would never subside but it did. Not by time but by choice. You had to choose to let go of the anger and the hurt, choose to free yourself from resentment. No. This ache was something else entirely. But you couldn’t put a name to it.

You step inside your closet, eyes studying your hung up clothes and the suitcases hidden underneath them. Not wanting to spend any more time than needed here, you got on your knees and started pulling out suitcases, folding up clothes, and putting them away. It all went much quicker than you’d expected (you got most of your clothes out during the beginning of your separation). You were picking off hangers at the end of the closet when you came across a garment bag. The garment bag.

Right away you knew you shouldn’t. Only a masochist would unzip the garment bag to their wedding dress when they’re currently living apart from their husband. And yet, you still did it. Tentatively your fingers reached out to grab hold of the bag. You pulled it into your lap and slowly undid the zipper. Then you saw your wedding dress, and you melted. As your eyes traced over the lace detail the memories of that day flickered through your mind.

It wasn’t at all what you expected. When you were younger, you always dreamed of a big wedding, everything you've ever heard about in fairytales. You wanted it to happen early in the morning, in a beautiful church with stained glass windows, surrounded by all your friends and family. You expected there would be flowers everywhere, and something else, something special. The romantic in you hoped for doves or maybe butterflies. And your dress? Only the most regal ball gown would do as you walked down the aisle to the man of your dreams.

Of course, fantasies rarely become reality. The issue of privacy is important when marrying a celebrity. At the time, just getting married seemed impossible, let alone doing it big. With the group's growing fame and Namjoon’s busy schedule, how could you find the time to get married? Or find a venue where fans or media couldn’t find you? You’d have to plan every second, every detail. Nothing could be left up to chance. Both of you were so in love but also, so very stressed with the situation before you until Namjoon made a second proposal.

“Why don’t we just elope?” he asked.

It was late at night. You lay in the comfort of his arms, head resting on his chest and mere seconds away from blissful sleep, so it took you a full minute to process that sentence. You lifted your head to look into his eyes. “What?”

Namjoon smiled down at you, thumb rubbing slow circles against your back. “Let’s just do it. Get married, I mean. Who says we have to wait or plan? I love you. I wanna marry you now.”

You sat up in bed, propped yourself up on your arm, and searched his face. “Are you serious?”

You watched amused as he narrowed his sharp eyes at you in a mock glare. “Why would I joke about this? Of course I’m serious! Let’s do it.”

You looked at him hard for a minute, but when Namjoon didn’t flinch you knew he was for real. Then of course the panic kicked in. “Baby, what? Let’s do it? It’s not like we can just walk into a church and say ‘I do’ !”

“Technically, we can.”

You shook your head, “No. What about all the plans we’ve made? I already booked the venue, and our caterer—”

Namjoon rolled over onto his side, facing you. “So we’ll cancel. The date’s still months away, that's more than enough time to give notice that we’ve changed our minds.”

You laughed,, but your shaky breath came out like a scoff. “Do you know how hard it was for me to get those reservations?! That cathedral is wedding heaven! It is stained glass perfection. The wait time is usually up to a year. A YEAR. And our cake, it’s being made by Giovanni Bianchi—world renowned pastry chef—Giovanni Bianchi. It’s a seven-tiered baked dream. And you want me to cancel?”

To your disbelief Namjoon simply shrugged. “Do we really need all that?”

He reached out, taking your hands in his. He looked down, stroking them with his thumbs in an effort to soothe you. “Grand cathedral or not, as long as we’re together, I’m already in heaven. Our wedding will be perfect no matter where we are because we have each other. And the cake? Well, why would I need a dream cake, when I can have my dream girl?” He said, winking at you.

Your heart swelled at sweet words. As much as you wanted to roll your eyes you couldn’t help but smile. God, he was so cheesy. But isn’t that why you loved him? Still...you felt anxious. He might have melted your heart, but you weren’t fully convinced.

“Yeah okay, very smooth. What about our families? They’ve been looking forward to this so much. Our mothers will murder us!” You made a face, suddenly remembering your wedding party. “Oh the boys…..Jin will be so disappointed if he doesn’t get to be your best man” (you distinctly recalled him rejoicing at the news knowing he’d be “the most handsome” best man ever).

Namjoon brought your fingers to his lips and kissed the tips in between explanations. “It’s not about them”. Kiss. “Jin will get over it”. Kiss. “Our families will forgive us”. Kiss. “We’re not getting married for anyone else but us, we can do it however we want.”

You nodded your head in agreement, though you were still unsure. You knew all these things. Of course your marriage would be just for the two of you. You had no interest in simply performing the act for others approval. You loved Namjoon, you loved your relationship together, and you wanted to do what felt right for the both of you. Still, you couldn’t help but worry about the public’s opinion.

“What about your fans?” you asked. “What if pictures get out?” The whole point of all this planning was for privacy. The world knew BTS was dating, many fans suspected they had secret girlfriends, but a wife? How would they react to that? You didn’t want to hurt anyone, least of all Namjoon and his image. You know how hard he and the rest of Bangtan worked to be respected in the music industry. What would happen if the world found out their leader was dating a nobody like you?

Namjoon looked you straight in the eyes, and spoke in a calm voice. “I don’t care. I’m not ashamed of loving you. Let the whole world see that I’m marrying the kindest, loveliest, soul I’ve ever known. I don’t care what they think, or what they say. I just want you. All I want is to be your husband, and for you to be my wife. Nothing else matters.”

You felt another wave of love pass over your heart. His sincerity stunned you. You glanced at him with glistening eyes. “Namjoon…Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He grinned at you, letting go of your hand to reach up and cup your cheek. “Are you done yet?” He teased. “Despite all your protests, I haven’t heard you say no…?”

You took a second to think through your conversation. Namjoon was right. You never said no, because as crazy as it was, you agreed with your fiancé wholeheartedly. You wanted this, you wanted him just as much as he wanted you, and you wanted to get married as quickly as possible. With a new resolve you shifted in the bed straddling him, then wrapped your arms around his neck. “Okay,” you said.

Namjoon raised both eyebrows up. “Okay!? Just like that? Anything else I need to assure you of? We have our marriage license. I have a tux. You already have your dress. I know you’re concerned but we have everything we need.”

You nodded. This time you were sure. “Let’s do it.”

Namjoon hesitated, then his face broke into a smile that was so bright it gave life to one of your own. In that moment you realized what you thought to be nerves earlier was really just excitement. You brought your hand to his shoulders, squeezing tight. “We’re getting married,” you whispered, voice full of awe.

“We’re getting married!” Namjoon echoed.

Before you knew it, you were walking down the aisle. You let him plan it all. You got married at night, in a small church, without stained glass windows. There was no big guest list, but neither of you could stand the thought of going through the ceremony completely by yourselves, so you allowed for your immediate family to be there (that included Yoongi, Hoseok, Jin, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk). Flowers did not adorn every pew, but the space was illuminated by soft and warm candlelight. No butterflies or doves. It wasn’t like what you imagined in your head. Life rarely coincides with those kinds of plans. But Namjoon was right. Because you had each other, it was perfect.

In the end, the only part of your wedding that lived up to the fairytale was your dress. It was everything you wanted in a gown. All white with a sweetheart neckline, crystal embroidery and layers upon layers of tulle. The dress felt a bit heavy, but you can still remember the look on his face when he lifted your veil. In one glance, he made all that weight disappear. You felt lighter than air. “You look like an angel.” He whispered, voice sweet and low, so only you could hear. In that moment all you could feel was love.

So how did you end up here? Clutching your wedding dress on the closet floor, desperately wiping away tears. God, what a mess you are. You pushed out a breath and started shoving the white, fluffy fabric back into the garment dress. It was a mistake taking this out. You couldn’t get it back in again. Your fingers slip as you try to grip the zipper, and you can’t tell if it’s because of your sweaty palms or your wet tears, but it won’t budge. Why won’t it zip? You pull up hard, snagging the dress in its teeth.

Shit. Frustration flushes through you as you snatch the zipper back down only to hear the distinct sound of fabric tearing in the process.

You shut your eyes tight, shoulders slumping with defeat. When you opened your eyes again all you could see was the rip in the dress, threads straining and unraveling all at once. It looked as torn up as you feel inside. Part of you is falling apart at the idea of leaving Namjoon, pressured to leave all of this pain behind and let go of the relationship. Call it mind over matter. It didn’t make sense to stay with a man you had broken your heart and your trust. All logic told you to divorce him and never look back. You know this. And yet? There is a part of you aching to repair what’s been broken, pull out the sorrow from this home, and heal all the hurt.

You were so busy wrapped in your thoughts that you hadn’t heard the door unlock, or footsteps tread into the bedroom. From the corner of your eye you saw a glimpse of blond hair, wide brown shoulders. It was Namjoon. You couldn’t help the startled gasp that fell from your lips.

“(Y/n)”, he breathed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Namjoon kept his distance. He didn’t look at you and didn’t cross the threshold of the closet door, generously leaving space between you. Instead, his eyes were glued to the floor. “I saw your car out front, but I didn’t think it’d actually be you here.” He reached up a hand, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just...confused.” Namjoon glanced up at you from underneath his eyelashes then slowly, his smokey eyes rose to meet yours. “Why are you here?”

“. . .” You faltered. Once Namjoon laid his eyes on you, you softened, even after all this time he had that effect on you. You were still consumed in thoughts about your marriage...feeling that again, you didn’t know what to think. You almost preferred it when you felt anger or pain at the sight of him. Instead you felt something else. You looked down at your lap, fingering the dress. Was it longing? You started again, making eye contact. “I came back to get the rest of my things.”

A look passed across Namjoon’s face but before you could identify it, it was gone. Namjoon nodded, looking away from your face. His gaze shifted to your hands. “Is...is that—”

“—My wedding dress? Yes.” You tried to think of an excuse, some reason for you having it out but nothing came to mind. You shrugged, settling for the truth. “I just wanted to look at it I guess.” Both of you ignored your tear stained face.

Namjoon bit his lip, the silence stretching between you until he said, “I’ll leave you to it,” and abruptly walked away. Finally alone you breathed out a sigh.

You felt a tinge of disappointment. And you were angry with yourself for it. You don’t know what you were hoping for, or what you wanted to get out of that conversation. What’d you expect? Did you really think after everything that he’d lower himself one last time and beg for you to come back? Again? The man you married you would have, but the man who cheated on you? No, he had too much pride. This wasn’t a romance movie where the couple fights and breaks up but somehow everything magically fixes itself and they get back together. It was really over.

The finality of it all stunned you. You sat there, numbing yourself to the pain for a minute. Then you striantened out your wedding dress, and zipped up the garment bag. This time it went up without a hitch. You were just getting up off your knees when Namjoon whipped back into the room, surprising you.

“I know you could care less about anything I have to say right now,” he began, raising a cautious hand. “You probably hate me, and I understand that. I hate myself for what I’ve done to you.” He looked up in thought then pressed his hands into his eyes. When his hands fell away you braced yourself for what came next. “I’m asking you for a second chance. I’m asking you for a second chance because I love you more than anything. You are the love of my life, and I’m sorry I forgot that. I know you don’t owe me anything, least of all your forgiveness.”

He stopped, voice thickening as he gulped down tears. “But I’m asking for it.”

“I couldn’t live with myself knowing I didn’t do everything to get you back.”

Tears filled your eyes. “Are you saying that, because you love me? Or are you saying that because you want me back?”

His gaze never wavered. “Both. I want you back, because I love you. Knowing you and loving you has been the biggest blessing in my life. I don’t regret it. I'd do it all over again, just to have you in my life. Even if it meant losing you. ”

All at once it hit you. That feeling, the one you struggled to identify when you held your wedding dress in your arms. It wasn’t longing. It was love. You were still in love with Namjoon.

And so you did the unthinkable. You kissed him.

Sandcastles

♪ We built sandcastles that washed away. I made you cry when I walked away, oh. And although I promised that I couldn't stay, baby. Every promise doesn't work out that way.

. . .

It only takes seconds for you to cross the space between and press your lips to his. For a moment, Namjoon doesn’t move—doesn’t even breathe. Then his arms wrapped around you, brought you flush against him and you melted in his embrace as he kissed you, his lips softer than ever. Deep down, you know you shouldn’t. It would be too painful to become wrapped up in Namjon again only to tear yourself away from him. But your body has a will of its own. When his tongue swept across your bottom lip, you parted for him like the red sea and every emotion you’d ever felt for him came flooding back.

Every kiss you’ve ever had, every whisper of “I love you,” all of it ignited in your mind the second Namjoon kissed you back in a moment so intense you felt your body tremble at his touch. His lips moved gently over yours while his hands came up to cup your cheeks, and before you know it, you find yourself in the middle of the most sensual kiss you’ve had in your life. Namjoon kissed you like he was hungry, tongue rolling into your mouth. You couldn’t help but moan, arching into his embrace.

It was shameful how your body responded back to him. You could feel your heart rate increase, the heat rushing to your cheeks. You couldn’t remember the last time you wanted him like this. Your thoughts traveled back to the words that sparked your desire: “I want you back, because I love you. Knowing you and loving you has been the biggest blessing in my life. I don’t regret it. I'd do it all over again, even if it meant losing you.”

All this time you’d been fighting against your love for Namjoon, convinced any feelings he had for you were long gone. But everything he said proved otherwise.

It was confusing to you. You spent so much time thinking that Namjoon didn’t want you anymore, you’d even come to accept it but now? You didn’t know what to think. Your mind was screaming for you to pull away, stop before it went any further. That everything you were doing right now was wrong. Except, it didn’t feel wrong. It almost felt...good. Right.

The truth is you feel exactly the same. Despite everything you’d been through, you still loved Namjoon. He was the love of your life and you wished with everything in you that you could turn back the clock and start over. If what he said was true—if there was even a possibility of Namjoon still loving you, you needed to feel that.

Namjoon’s touch made you desperate. You found your hands tracing the planes of his body, running down his muscular arms before coming back up as you linked your arms around his neck. He kissed you deeper, groaning low in his throat, and the sound was enough to drive you wild. Even this close, you couldn’t get enough of him. All you could feel was the compulsive need for more. More of his touch. More of his kisses. More, more, more.

You could feel Namjoon’s body backing you up to the bed. Your knees hit the mattress and you allowed yourself to fall back against the soft sheets. But Namjoon didn’t fall with you. You opened your eyes, instantly giving way to panic. His pause alarmed you. Your anxiety reared its ugly head, speaking cruelty into your mind. How could you be so foolish? What were you thinking, kissing Namjoon? He didn’t actually want you. He was leading you on, playing with your feelings. That’s why he stopped.

You pulled yourself up, leaning your weight back on your elbows to look into his eyes. You expected to see cold rejection on his handsome face, but what you saw in his gaze wasn’t at all what you imagined. Instead, when you looked into his eyes, all you could see was raw, unfiltered desire. And strangely enough, uncertainty.

Namjoon had a million thoughts racing through his mind, all of them questions.

How did he end up here, with you spread across his bed when only minutes before you seemed worlds apart? The situation didn’t feel real, more like a fantasy, like he dreamed you up. But if this dream was real—if this dream was really coming true—should he let it?

Of course he wanted you. If you kissed him like this a couple of months ago, Namjoon wouldn’t hesitate to take you; he’d have his way with you until you screamed his name. But tonight, the last thing Namjoon wanted. He’d spent months craving your touch; the feel of your lips against his, how the heat of your body felt flush against his. He caused you enough pain acting on his lust. He didn’t want to hurt you further by taking advantage of the situation.

Both of you got caught in an emotional whirlwind but this kiss was a mistake, wasn’t it? He looked down at you, waiting for you to push him away but you didn’t make a move. Instead, you stared at him, desire burning in your eyes. God, that look alone was enough to arouse him. Still, he didn’t make any move to kiss you.

You took a moment to look at Namjoon, really look at him. Trying to uncover the emotion swirling behind his dark eyes. The longer you stared, the more you felt like your heart was going to burst from your chest. You could see his uncertainty but the feeling wasn’t mutual.

Was it insane to sleep with your soon to be ex-husband? Yes. Did it make you want it any less?

Not even in the slightest.

I must be losing my mind. You couldn’t explain it yourself, but kissing Namjoon opened up something in you. Feelings you didn’t know you still had swept all over you. Heat washed over your body. You could feel your skin flush, passion stirring in your blood.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice taut with apprehension.

Your body was practically screaming yes. But Namjoon’s hesitation made you pause.

Reading the confusion in your eyes, he quickly backtracked. “I’m not saying I don’t want to—believe me I do—I just don’t want you to do something tonight that you’ll regret in the morning.”

Your mind wasn’t there. That moment seemed so far off from the ever-present now and the rapid beating of your heart and the warmth of Namjoon’s body. You knew you had to make a choice. Yes or no. There was a small voice in the back of your head cautioning you against this. But tonight you were following your heart. Consequences be damned.

You looked up at him and nodded. “I want this.”

Namjoon leaned forward to kiss you, and you shivered at the feel of his lips against yours. This time, there was no hesitation. You couldn’t remember the last time Namjoon kissed you like this. Slowly, tenderly, like this kiss mattered. Like you mattered. Any inhibition you had melted away as you leaned into his touch. You felt yourself lower back down onto the bed. Namjoon’s hands passed over your body, slimming down your waist, before coming to rest on your thighs. You let them linger there, savoring the feeling of his hands on your body.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. You were so into the kiss, the feel of him you didn’t notice his hands pry off your clothes until you were left in only your underwear.

He stopped then, pulled away from your lips to look at you. Then the only thing you could feel on your body were his eyes drinking you in. The eye contact alone had you squeezing your thighs together. You watched the heat build in his dark gaze until his eyes lingered just a little too long, until your skin tingled all over from the intensity.

Then he was all over you, leaving open-mouthed kisses down your throat. Hands cupping your breasts. The feel of him against your thigh. It was an assault to your senses, but instead of overwhelming you, it only made you crave him even more. You arched your back as Namjoon kissed your collarbone, slowly making his way down the valley of your breasts. You moaned at the sensation of his tongue moving down your body, closer and closer to where you needed him most.

“Namjoon,” You breathed, body humming with pleasure. He looked up from between your thighs, dark eyes connecting with yours for a split second. You watched as he hooked his fingers into your underwear and dragged them down your legs. Then he gave his complete attention to your body, licking a long strip straight down your center that had you moaning his name again.

Namjoon gripped your thighs firmly in his hands, pulling you closer towards him. He wanted you to know that this meant more to him than just sex, that he loved you, and that he was more than willing to show you just how much. He takes his time tasting you. Each lick languid and loving. He didn’t want to tease you, all he wanted to do was to please you. To touch you and erase the pain he caused--even if only for a second. Namjoon swirled his tongue across your clit. Once, twice, a third time, drawing sweet moans and gasps from your lips.

You couldn’t keep yourself quiet. It’d been so long since anyone touched you. Throughout everything, you still remained faithful to Namjoon. And even if you’d been with another, no one could ever make you feel like this. Have your toes curling, back arching. It was almost embarrassing how easily you melted under his touch. Some part of you still wondered how you could give in so easy. Shouldn’t you be feeling some resistance? All you felt was longing.

You found yourself rocking your hips against him, and crying out as his tongue delved deeper.

You wanted to bring your hands up to your face to muffle the sounds but before you could, Namjoon stopped you.

“Don’t,” he said. He took hold of your hands and threading his fingers through yours. All the while his tongue was still swirling against you, making lewd sounds that had you feeling hot.

You could feel your body heating up, the rise and fall of your chest coming faster and faster. When you felt him slide tongue inside you, pressing up against your sweet spot—it was enough to push you over the edge. You came, squeezing Namjoon’s hands tight.

Namjoon lapped up your juices, enjoying the taste of your slick on his tongue. Even then he didn’t stop, coaxing a second orgasm out of you with soft licks against your center.

“Joon,” you whimpered, body humming with oversensitivity. “Too much.”

Only then did he pull away, moving to place a tender kiss on the inside of your thigh. He sat up, and you rose on your elbows ready and willing to return the favor, but Namjoon gently pushed you back down on the bed, shaking his head.

“I just wanna be inside you right now,” he rasped.

God, you wanted that too. They way Namjoon ate you out had your body begging for more. You weren't going to argue with him.

Namjoon sat up and placed a hand around your neck, guiding you back to his lips. It started out slow. Soft, sweet kisses against your lips. It wasn’t until he slipped his tongue inside your mouth that he found himself suddenly desperate for you. Even more surprising was your reaction to him. You kissed him back with just as much fever, completely captivated.

The kiss seemed to go on forever. When you finally pulled away, you looked at each other, panting, the air thickening between you two. Namjoon’s dark eyes stared down at you with an intensity that pierced your soul. You knew he felt it too. This energy...There was still love between you. But you’d already made your decision. You wanted this moment, this passion but you couldn’t trust him with your heart and be sure he wouldn’t break it. I can’t fall for him again. I can’t. You wanted him badly but wanting him, and trusting him were two different things.

“Namjoon,” you started. Then stopped, trying to find the right words to explain. “This isn’t—I can’t—”

“—Stay? I know.” Namjoon knew what he was getting into the second you kissed him. He knew this was goodbye, and that it would hurt like hell come morning. He didn’t care. If only he could change the past, he’d take it all back.

But he couldn’t. The damage was already done. This was the last time he’d ever hold you in his arms again. If he could have you, even for this short time, he’d take what he could get. He wasn’t going to fuck it up trying to make this into something it wasn’t. He loved you too much to be selfish at this moment. If this were the last time, he would make it well worth your while.

“I just need tonight.”

Namjoon pulled you tighter against him, molding you against his body. Before making any sudden movement, he pulled back a little to look in your eyes, to make sure this was still what you wanted.

You cupped his cheek and kissed his lips, reassuring him. Then he aligned his cock against your entrance and pushed inside you with one smooth move. You tensed, freezing in his arms. The feeling of your walls clenched around him made staying still absolute torture. But Namjoon wouldn’t dare move.

You close your eyes and breathe out a shaky breath, familiarizing yourself with the burn of the stretch. He’s so thick it takes a minute for your body to adjust to the size. Though the sensation of Namjoon nuzzling into your neck helps turn the pain into pleasure. You hooked your leg around his waist nudging him forward.

The small act made both of you moan in unison. “Namjoon...please,” you breathed.

He moved, starting out with a pace that had your insides feeling molten. His hands gripped at your hips as he pulled out almost all the way, then slowly slid himself deep inside you. You were so wet, so tight he couldn’t help but groan. The feel of you taking all of him, giving him this pleasure and the look in your eyes...Namjoon was sure he’d never love another the same way.

This wasn’t just sex. Namjoon knew the difference now. What it really meant to be intimate with a partner. To share his body with someone not for a distraction or stroke his ego but for love. To draw closer with one another. This was it for him. You, it was always you. There would never be another. He started to rock into you, deep and slow, desperate to make you feel that.

You closed your eyes, losing yourself to the sensation. Needing more, you raised your hips to meet his thrusts and Namjoon took the hint, snapping his hips to meet yours faster. You cried out as he filled you again and again and again. Right now, you don't have to worry about future decisions. You didn’t have to think about all the conflicting feelings you had for this man.

Not that you could think about that anyways. Your senses were all wrapped up in how good Namjoon was making you feel. His pace was brutal just how you liked it, but his touch was nothing but kind. His hands trailed up to the small of your back keeping you close. Namjoon cupped your face as he kissed you; he only pulled away to rest his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes. You’d slept with Namjoon before, but something about this time was different. If you didn’t know any better—you’d think he was making love to you. He was so strong, yet so loving. You wished he could be this way with you always.

You wanted to stay here, savor this moment. But Namjoon was grinding his hips against yours in a way that had you breathless. You were so close. “Namjoon, I—”

“Come for me,” he said.

Growling, he thrust harder against you and reached down between your bodies to rub your clit, driving you towards your orgasm. Your pleasure built inside you, sweeping over your body like a wave until it crashed and washed over you, sending tremors down your body.

Feeling you come apart in his arms, Namjoon slowed his thrusts. You clenched around him till pleasure flooded his senses and he came too, burying his face in your neck and moaning out your name.

The only sound heard throughout the room was panting as the two of you came down from your highs. Namjoon brushed your hair away from your face and ran his thumb across your cheek.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice full of concern. He rolled off you and onto his side so as not to crush you but remained close, his skin flush against yours.

“Mhmm…” you hummed. You stared at the ceiling as your heart rate slowed back down. You were expecting to feel something. Regret...maybe relief?

You don’t know what you were hoping for. Maybe subconsciously you thought sleeping with Namjoon would help you come to some kind of resolution. A grand epiphany that would tell you what to do with your situation. But really you didn’t feel any different than you did before.

“What are you thinking about?”

You shake your head as if to shake all those thoughts out of your head. “Nothing.”

Namjoon didn’t press you, but the silent tension in the air gave you the impression that he wanted to ask for more.

You’ve never felt so divided. The ego in you wanted to walk away from it all. Say goodbye and cut your losses, no matter the cost. You made peace with leaving because you were so sure that Namjoon didn’t want you. You knew you couldn’t be with a man who had no love for you. But now, knowing that there was still love here. That he still cared, that you still cared. It changed things. You wanted it to work. But you weren’t sure if you could love him the same; there was always the issue of trust. How could you ever trust him again?

“I’m sorry,” said Namjoon. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

You turned to face him then, lying on your side. “It was what it wanted and now…” You trailed off, lost to your thoughts again. You had to think about it. Dig deep and really question what it was you were searching for.

“Now what? What do you need?” His expression was torn but honest.

So you asked for what you really wanted out of him. You asked for the truth.

“I need you to tell me everything.”

. . .

And he does. That night, as you bathe together, he finally tells you the truth. The whole truth.

When the sweat on your skin dried and became sticky, Namjoon ran a bath. You both got inside the clawfoot tub and sat on opposite sides, bodies intermingling as you faced each other. It was thick with quiet as the bath filled up with heated water.

At first, Namjoon hesitated. You could tell he wanted to spare your feelings. So he gave you the truths in little bits. Pieces of information you could swallow, like the names of his past lovers, and when each act happened. Then slowly, bigger chunks that had you holding your breath as you processed the facts of his betrayal. He told you about it all. About the weakness, the desperation, and the loneliness he felt on tour. The need to be touched and seen–really seen–by someone. Even if that someone wasn’t you. How one bad decision turned into two, turned into three. And the guilt. The guilt that accompanied the deception that rose and rose like high flames, eating him up inside.

By the time Namjoon’s done speaking, the water’s gone lukewarm, and your fingers were pruned, yet neither of you gets out of the bath. You let Namjoon bring you to close, till your back's up against his chest. He lathers his hands, and you let his calloused palms wash the pain away. Till the only thing you feel is his light touch. You repeat this action to him, stroking his skin with absolute ease. Then, and only then do you step out of the water. Namjoon drapes a fluffy white towel over your shoulder and wraps it around you.

He looks you in the eyes, and tells you that you're the only woman he’s ever loved. The only woman he would ever love. And you believe him.

. . .

That night, you lay down beside him exhausted. Not the kind of exhaustion that comes from lack of sleep or a long day at work. Not the weariness that leads to nights of deep slumber–no–this is the weariness that puts stress on your heart. The kind that leaves you feeling drained. Empty. Beside you, Namjoon sleeps, but you’re wide awake.

Every nerve in your body is begging for rest. But it’s your heart keeping you up tonight.

Heart over mind, mind over matter. You're split in both directions. Wanting to stay, and wanting to go. You told yourself that you were leaving. Walking away from it all.

But something felt wrong.

Everything was already moving in one way, but your heart was starting to face another. You still hadn’t made up your mind.

You lay in bed with your eyes closed and remembered the first time you left. Before you knew the truth, before you knew anything really, except for the fact that you didn’t want to live in a lie. You packed your bag and drove to Jackson’s, but you couldn’t make it through the night without breaking down and calling your mom. You spilled your heart to her, and she heard you, even through all the tears. You called to get everything off your chest, but you were also searching for answers. You were desperate for her to give you some kind of sign of what you were supposed to do or an out, but she didn’t.

“Do you remember when you were little, and you used to make sandcastles at the beach?” she asked. “You used to love playing in the sand. Barely even went in the water. You spent all day just creating something, building your own world.”

It caught you off guard. You were so shocked that for the first time in hours you stopped crying.

The memory was hazy in your mind, but you could still picture those summer days filled with warm golden sun, and the salty sea air.

“Some days as the sun set, the tide would come in and wash away everything you worked on. And you’d cry. Cry your little heart out. There wasn’t anything I wanted more than to pick you up, and hold you in my arms, comfort you. But you were at that age where you needed to start learning how to comfort yourself. So I let you cry. And after you’d got out all your tears, sometimes you’d start over. Dig your hands into the sand and start building all over again. Make something new. And sometimes you’d give up, walk away and come sit by me.”

“Yeah mom I remember...but, what does that have to do with anything?”

“You built your marriage with Namjoon on a foundation of love, faith, and trust. That’s your sandcastle. And now that trust has been washed away you don’t know what to do, and you're crying out for me. Baby, I love you, but you’re gonna have to make this decision for yourself. I can’t make it for you. Whatever you decide, I will be right behind you, supporting you. If you want to stay and find a way to be together I will be here. If you want to divorce him I’ll be here for that, too. But you have to decide.”

You let her words sink in. You knew she was right. But you were so frustrated, so overwhelmed you burst into tears again. “How am I supposed to decide? It’s so hard to know what choice is right.”

“I don’t–I don’t want to make a mistake…” You said through sobs.

“(Y/n), the only thing worse than staying or going, is you holding your breath and being indecisive. You have to make a choice. Decide.”

You couldn't think of how to act on your mother’s advice back then, but in the present, you understood. You squinted in the dark and looked at the time. The clock on your nightstand reads 5:22 AM in bold red letters. You hadn’t even realized you’d been up all night with your thoughts.

You looked over at the man causing you this great affliction. Pale moonlight streamed through the window illuminated his heart-shaped face. You once thought of him to be a monster, but he wasn’t. He was just human. And for once, you finally sorted your feelings about him. You weren’t in limbo anymore.

You knew your decision:

Leave him | Choose him

#bts fic #bts scenario #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #namjoon scenarios #reader x namjoon #my fics.🍪 #poc reader #songfic #fic: promises

[ugh-yoongi]

hi! would it be alright if i asked what your favorite namjoon fics are? thank you and have a great day 💗🥹

hello nonnie, it is always okay to ask me for fic recs! <3

most of these works contain mature themes/content. please heed tags and do not engage with any explicit work if you are a minor!

i know there are a bunch i've forgotten, so please reblog and share your own work and your faves!

also, please note: there are a lot of fics on these lists that are posted to ao3. it has recently come out that a volunteer was removed from their position for being pro-palestine (you can find the twt thread here). i am in the process of looking for a better alternative, but until then, it is unfortunately probably the best way to share these stories. while i personally won't be posting to or reading on ao3 for the time being, how you choose to engage going forward is completely up to you! i just wanted to make sure i was being transparent.

namjoon x reader

anything by @effortandmore

anything by @hamsterclaw

anything by @miscelunaaa

1-year anniversary by @johobi

omerta by @anotherbtswriter

hammer it home series by @gukslut

hey, it's me & leave no trace behind by @yoongiphoria

love bytes by @stutterfly

real magic & park and ride by @here2bbtstrash

house of cards & guilty by @xjoonchildx

lacuna by @eoieopda

dream team by @bangtanintotheroom (feat. hobi)

cyanide on my bedsheets by @jimilter

laundry day by @snackhobi

bloom by @hobidreams

the snow globe effect by @gukyi

you've got a friend in me by @wwilloww

pronoia by @junghelioseok

limbo by @beahae

love hard by @raplinesmoon

swiss miss by @here4kpopfics (feat. seokjin)

my feet to follow, and my heart to hold by @daechwitatamic

a fine line by @moni-logues

roommates with benefits

as always, mxm fics under the cut!

member x member

softer than steel (namseok)

frustrations in late foucault (namseok)

the universe needs more you (namseok)

in your atmosphere (namseok)

why don't you figure (my heart) out (namseok)

i'm on fire (rap line)

delta (rap line)

꽃꽂이. kkotkkoji (namjin)

you have 1 new message (namjin)

beta tau sigma (namjin)

white rabbit (namjin)

local dumbass idiot helps sexy criminal and then writes sad bird poems instead of just saying Yes Seokjin I Like You Too (namjin)

easy (namjin)

and they were roommates (namjin)

burn me like an ember (namjin)

the understood boundaries of self (namjin)

more walls (collected along the way) [namjin]

imprints & magnitude (namjin)

salt water (namjinkook)

disgruntledofficebrat [active] (namkook)

you can leave the cape on (namkook)

108 degrees (namkook)

the whole of the moon (namkook)

travelogue with a frat boy (namkook)

it's a color that i can't describe (namkook)

how much to give and how much to take (namkook)

the courage of stars (namkook)

come take it (if you want a piece of me) [namkook]

a feel so sweet (namgikook)

objects in mirror are closer than they appear (namgi)

green carnation (namgi)

the added bonus (namgi)

tear you apart (namgi)

different when i'm with you (namgi)

adrift (namgi)

i'll fuck you if you let me, baby (namgi)

sleepless in (namgi)

恋の予感 (namgi)

take it or leave it (namgi)

baby, but we will (namgi)

verified amateurs [online now] (namgi)

cyrano more like cyraNO (namgi)

record it for later (namgi)

into the red morning (taejoon)

don't call it love (taejoon)

i am red with love (taejoon)

the bad thing (minimoni)

you were more than just light (minimoni)

wish we'd fall in love (minimoni)

but i want it anyway (minimoni)

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fic recs #fic rec

[hoseoksluna]

STORY | knj

pairing: soft dom!namjoon x reader

genre: smut

word count: 7.8k

summary: yours and namjoon’s story is a bit more perverted than traditional.

warnings: serious big dick namjoon, rough touches, hair pulling, use of pet names and titles, dom/sub dynamics, horny namjoon can't help but palm himself:(, desperation, masturbation, spanking, praising, tit slapping, nipple play, teasing, oc and namjoon not being comfortable with certain practices, playful orgasm denial, oral sex (m. and f. receiving), rimming && ass play :3, cum eating yum yum, tit fucking, orgasm countdown fuck

note: smut is so fucking difficult to write but i loved every second of it. i love writing about namjoon, he just makes me feel so safe. this is purely my fantasy with him and i'll probably dream about this for a long, long time. please, take your time reading this as it's pretty long. i hope you enjoy it and that it makes you dream like it made me dream. as always, let me know what you think in the comments, like the post and if you want to—reblog, but i won't pressure you angels <3. love you guys so much, thank you for all the love. kisses!

side note: i miss namjoon and i wish he were here. all i can do is watch his lives and pretend he never left for the military.

Namjoon makes himself comfortable on the wooden chair before you.

The scene is set. Like a mermaid bathing in the sun, you rest your elbows on the cold rim of the ivory bathtub. Small surges of violet-tinted water, perfumed with your scent, blanket your body in a thin layer of glittery sheen. They kiss the tiger stripes along the curve of your bottom as it rolls over, passing by the dip in the small of your waist, breathing in your patchouli fragrance in greeting. The bath bomb, cornered by your knees, sizzles and spins, the width of the tub allowing your form to float like a little fish in the open sea as copiously as you please.

A gift from your loving boyfriend. Both the clawfoot, and the bath bomb.

The scene expands. Your Eric slouches in his seat, balancing his greatest and most stellar possession on top of his lap with one hand while he runs the other through his silver mane. He fits perfectly in the picturesqueness of the background. Soft orange and chocolate tiles zig zag behind his back, transposing him momentarily into a sunlit illustration, where he rests in the shade of a palm tree on a faraway beach. Reads the book to pass the time as he waits for you to emerge from the waters. Sets it down on his lap as soon as his gaze catches yours. Periwinkle clams for a bra, panties thin and translucent from the oncoming waves, you rest your front on the sand. He smiles down at you and you know for a fact you won’t be able to get on your feet. Might have to learn how to walk, too.

You keep this picture in your heart. Mentally, you rip out the page. Fold it and tuck it somewhere within you to keep it safe.

Legs outstretched by the sides of the tub, clad in slacks in the muted color of a persimmon, it’s almost as though you’re propped on his lap. Sporting a simple white button-down, sleeves rolled, you’re close enough to touch the material if you so much as wished so. From his angle, Namjoon sees nothing but the roundness of your eyes through the brownish rims of his glasses, hair unkempt in their dampness as the short paper thin layers frame your flushed face in such a celestial way. If he were to lean over, it’d be a different kind of book.

The one in the clasp of his hand isn’t a tale as old as time.

It’s one of your favorites. An existential story that ridicules the traditional. A transfusion of liveness to a certain forgotten room of your heart. The unlit one while the others brim with sunlight, with the golden sepia projection of the contents of the fairytales you love so much made into stop motion. A coloring book of some sort, hues fitting into the lines by your helping hand—the attention of your eyes. 

Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. The book that sweeps away all those cobwebs in that chamber. Makes it less lonely.

It’s all you had talked about on your dates when you and Namjoon first started dating, having been reading it at the time. You had confided in him that the writer was the only person who understood you without ever learning your name, without familiarizing himself with the subtleties of your calamitous life.

No one has ever shared something so vulnerable with him, especially not on the first date. Not that he’d gone on many, but the few that fell into his grasp were hell to get through. Insufferable, to say the least. Absolutely superficial.

He went home in the rain thinking of you. Not for boyish reasons. But for reasons of literary character, of melancholy nature that squeezed his long-unexpressed heart in perpetuating intervals too consistent for his liking. Filled it with a nectar bubbling with a newly blooming love for books, with a sudden longing to be found within the words. His body decided for him that it was yours. Yours to teach again how to read between the lines.

The scene breaks out of the margins on the page.

“Is the water warm enough?”

The idea constructed by his own geniality, it’s by his will that you’re basking in your bare femininity before his eyes. Idleness lingered in the living room between the pair of you, the flimsy curtain by your balcony lifting and falling in a little dance as the cold air perfused the place with the drowsiness of winter. Pulling his eyes away from the TV to sink a soft kiss into your hair, Namjoon muttered into your ear: “How about I draw you a bath and read to you for a little bit?”

You said nothing. The click of your phone turning off and your hasty movements to untangle yourself from the warmth of his limbs answered him for you. Leaving your clothes as a trail for him to follow, you gave him a glimpse of your ass, arched and pointed in the draft before you ran away. Before he scolded you with his index finger like a father, raising to his feet to close the balcony door.

In two seconds he joined you in the bathroom. Leaned against the doorframe as you circled a pink roll-on lip oil you’ve been obsessed with lately around the perimeters of your lips. The one that makes them look bigger, juicier. That makes them more fun to kiss and toy with. The one that leaves his length sticky once playtime is over. You seem to cast aside little trinkets of yourself for him to collect everywhere you go.

Tits pushed towards each other while you slightly bent over the vanity sink, tapping the excess into the fullness of your mouth, Namjoon palmed himself. The tiredness from work earlier weakened his self-control to the point of unrestrained indulgence. And the plumpness of your ass just encouraged it.

You fluffed your hair and Namjoon ran the bath. Disappeared into the kitchen for a moment to retrieve the purple bath bomb from the plastic bag on the counter, one that he got from the convenience store for you. Dragon fruit and hibiscus. Thought of the twinkle that would sparkle beneath your lashes upon seeing it. Wasn’t disappointed when you exceeded his expectations.

Having seen it in the mirror, almost microscopic and round in his big palm, you turned on your heel and burst into giddiness as he took off the plastic packaging with his teeth. You pouted in gratefulness when he showed it to you. 

“You planned this, didn’t you?”

You hugged him, locking your hands behind the nape of his neck. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, and he told you so. A bit hoarsely, though.

Namjoon struggled not to moan. Groaned a little when he felt the curvature of your belly against his hardness and the pointed nubs of your tits beneath his pecs. Managed to conceal it, thankfully, by clearing his throat and by allowing an authentic grin to bloom on his dimpled face at your joy. Thanked the heavens for all the bath bombs in the world.

He placed it in your much smaller palm for you to plop it into the increasing water. Watched your eyes widen at the gilded glitter spreading around. Spurred you to get in. Held your hand as you lifted one limb, then the other. Knelt by you as you engulfed yourself in the violet tinge, your hair swirling around you, silky and ethereal, coming to a stop at the top of your head to fix a splendid crown for such a princess like yourself.

Namjoon turned off the tap while you rested your back against the curved wall of the tub. You swooshed your hands around, gathering the glitter into the fine lines of your palms. Looked up at him in elation, the twinkle doing its thing in the glossiness of your eyes, and smiled. Namjoon smiled back at you. His hand reached out to your chest in a fervent need to touch you. The glitter adorned your chest with its perfect speckles and they resurfaced when you arched your back in response. Clung to his palm in the middle of your tits, held on tighter as he took a detour to your chin by brushing across your sensitive nipple to hear your little mewls because if he made a sound, then you must, too. Because if he was horny, he must get you on the same page as well. Fairness is very important to Namjoon.

He squeezed your breast hard. Pinched your nipple between his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger in broken intervals, similar to little dashed lines of Morse code. You imagined he was telling you something through that secret language as you closed your eyes during an intense wave of pleasure coursing down your body, and perhaps he truly did because he pulled your legs apart harshly when you pressed them together. Punished you by lightly slapping your tit—the same one he abused with those firm touches—the force splashing you in the face with violet pearls. All as if you disobeyed the command he transmitted wordlessly.

The command possibly being: Only I will give you the release you need when I decide it’s time.

You bit your bottom lip to suppress the neediness erupting in you. Namjoon wrapped his hand around your throat and you dragged his rolled sleeve further up his arm, so it wouldn’t have gotten soaked in the water. He smeared your lip oil just because he wanted—just because he could, scattering the rosy tint around your mouth messily. He took advantage of the aftermath of his punishment and collected those tender beads, now translucent upon your carmine skin. Not with the thumb as you expected him to, but using the pillows of his lips, he kissed the round bulb on your cheek. It melted on the puffy surface when he withdrew. He looked you in the eye for a mere beat of time before he lowered to your other cheek to collect another trinket. None of the corners of your mouth were overlooked, not even the button of your nose. He peppered those kisses to erase the harshness of his selfishness, supporting your lifted chin with his long thumb beneath it, still sticky from the consistency of the lip oil, apologizing, smoothing down his sternness until you giggled.

Once he cleaned you, Namjoon returned the digit to your smudged mouth, delicious in his sight due to the essence of sloppiness that gets his length even harder in his pants. He presses the pad against it, already craving your tongue. You kissed it, a thank you for his softness, before you granted him the access. Tongue toying with the tip, you said hello in the mother language of the love stored in your bodies for each other. Wrapped both of your hands around his wrist. Didn’t break eye contact. Smiled, teeth showing happily, when he bit his lip, but soon got distracted by a small movement on his groin area out of your view.

You peeled your back off of the tub to curiously take a peek, but Namjoon pushed you back to your place. All while his thumb remained sucked by your mouth. You frowned at him, dismayed by his recurring roughness that you weren’t used to.

Namjoon tapped your cheek twice with his fingers to let you know it was enough and rose to his feet.

“Joon, what’s going on? Why are you so rough with me?” you asked, voice tender, the question shooting arrows into the wideness of his back.

Stopping in the doorway, he hung his head, fingers coming to intertwine with the short hair above his neck. “I’m sorry, baby. Let me get the book.”

A moment later, he returned with the stellar possession in one hand and a wooden chair in the other. He slumped against it, fingers finding the first chapter unwittingly.

You swam forward as if to the shore, propping your elbows on the rim to be closer to him.

“Is the water warm enough?”

You nod, your teeth picking at the excess skin on your lips. Namjoon notices and, as if registering the reason why you put on the lip oil in the first place, he leans towards you and rubs away the smudginess he caused. As if the walk into your dining room sobered him enough from the dark wine of his lust that he now regretted his actions.

“You really scared me when you were rough,” you said calmly, unafraid to uncover your feelings, knowing you’ll be caught now that you’ve jumped head-first into the hungry sea of honesty.

He apologizes again. Repeats it in the aphonic form of a deep chaste kiss.

“Won’t do it again,” he promises. “Unless you ask me to.”

Your lips form a smile, but it quivers into a straight line just as quickly as it appeared. The yet unknown cause behind his untypical behavior troubles you.

“Did something happen today at work?”

Namjoon sighs. “No, I’m just tired.”

“Just tired or tired of your job?” you try, tilting your head to the side, remembering this isn’t the first time quiet broodiness clutched his figure when the clock struck five.

“Both.” He kneads the heel of his palm against his eye. 

Not expecting his honesty, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. It propels you to investigate further. Gives you the green light. Namjoon usually keeps to himself when it comes to work-related storms, holding respect that reaches the bottom of his heart for those above him and for his peers as well.

“Did someone make you upset?” you ask, paving your way in this inquiry to the realm of understanding so you can help him. At least in a small way.

He drops his hand, gazes up the ceiling to stare at a fixed point. Perhaps he’s looking for words, perhaps he’s avoiding the question altogether. The regret of your prying swallows you. You’re afraid you’ve overstepped a boundary. 

You reach out your arm, wrapping wet fingers around his wrist on his lap. The gesture says, ‘you don’t have to tell me but I’m here,’ and you squeeze the limb to emphasize that. As if he heard you, he looks down at you. His eyes that are usually narrowed into slits now round in tenderness. The swallowing lets go, the lump that threatened to obstruct your throat disappears.

“It’s Friday, Joonie, and you can forget about your job for a little while. It’ll get better,” you say, caressing his soft skin.

To your another surprise, Namjoon nods. Slips his fingers into the hollowness between yours, squeezing back, saying, ‘I hear you.’ Your heart jumps with gladness that you haven’t made a mistake, that instead your reassurement made a difference.

To lighten up the atmosphere, you begin to joke around.

“Should I beat them up?” You raise your brow in mischief, a goofy smile coating your face in lightheartedness.

A grin cracks on his face. “Don’t get your hands dirty for me, baby.”

You scoff, half-seriously and half-unseriously shaking your head at his eagerness to please but never letting himself be pleased. “But I want to. I’ll do it for you.”

Namjoon shakes his head as well. Leans over to you. Cradles your head in his hands and kisses you. Picks the hair plastered on your face and puts it away. You forget all of your jokes for a moment, breathless. Your neediness nudges you in your sensitive parts, reminding you of its lingering presence. 

“Come on, Joonie,” you coo, prolonging the vowels, the best you could come up with considering his allure, “I’ll fight them,” you start to construct your imaginary plan, the dimples adorning his face making it a bit harder for you to get the words out, “then, they’ll be scared of me and they won’t bother you again. Because if they do, I’ll smash their fucking teeth in. And then… then, you’ll get your peace for good. Easy.”

Namjoon listens with his features bathed in enamoredness, seemingly lost in a deep thought. A twinkle, a twin to yours, glistens in his eyes. Dimples out provoking you, he softly smiles at you. Coyly. He’s unaccustomed to being the one fought for. He’s always been the one who fights. The one who settles, resolves, makes things right. He’s never been the person these things are done for by another person. It makes his heart pulsate in a strange new rhythm. 

He stretches out his hands and runs his fingers through your hair. Begins to plait an intricate braid down your back, keeping you caged in the confines of his arms. Safe. Protected. His warrior princess.

“There’s something else you can do for me,” he mumbles, finished with your braid. Now your hair is away from your face, just like he needs it for what he’s about to do.

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow in question, your smirk growing on the side of your face. “Like what?”

“I’m so hard for you, baby,” he whispers into your ear, shoulders hunched, lips tracing the edge of your earlobe. A secret just between the two of you. “My body’s confused. I need a release.”

Even though you saw it coming, even though you saw it a hundred times before, you can’t help but gasp at his desperation, bare and open before you. It’s a new experience each time. Thrilling and titillating, the vividness and ferocity of his sexuality. It causes a flock of playful butterflies to buzz you with electricity in your tummy and a shiver to run down your spine. You feel your own neediness making itself known again and you squeeze your thighs together. 

This is the Namjoon you know. Strong in his softness. Mellow. Intense. The Namjoon who showed you plain roughness was a stranger to you, one you could take the time to get to know, because now you understand that the incentive to act like he did was his frustration from work. You can’t really blame the natural inclination of his body—his body that is yours to love in all shapes or forms.

You perceive he needs to let out some steam—he said so himself. Proud of him for voicing it out, a decision to be his helper already makes a way to your heart. You no longer feel slivers of consternation slithering in your veins. Knowing the cause, knowing it’s still your Namjoon helps you submit to the call of his needs. If a dab of roughness is what entails the sand-speckled footpath to the seaside of his well-being, you’ll take it. Welcome it, even. Within the realm of your established boundaries, that is. 

“Can I see?”

The book falls to the floor with a thud. Namjoon stands up. 

Ever so eager. Responding to his body language out of pure instinct, you hum and lift yourself to your knees. The outline of his engorged length, tight in his pants, greets you and you will your brain not to tell your fingers to rub your swollen clit. To busy your hands, you grip the rim until white brushes along your knuckles.

Emerging from the water, it left you smothered in a luster of wet silkiness. Namjoon’s eyes rake over your bare femininity. Heavenly, pure, seraphic. Groans a little loud. Doesn’t know whether to touch you first or his painfully hard and heavy member. You move your body to the side wall of the tub and he follows you, hand opting for his girth to relieve himself a little bit. 

You sit prettily on your folded legs and lean over, pulling his wrist away. You plant a dewy kiss to the middle of his clothed length and look up at him, just at the right time to catch him whimpering. Your clit pulses again and you feel like crying, needing release as much as he does. He doesn’t make it easy for you, making sounds like that.

“What does my baby girl need me to do?” you ask, stroking his member while stifling your giggles at the title that fits him so well. 

“Baby girl?” He frowns down at you. 

It’s usually what he calls you, hence why his confusion. And you call him by an entirely different title, too.

A giggle does escape your mouth after all. You squeeze at his tip, drawing those delicious whimpers out of him again.

“Only needy little baby girls make sounds like that. You are needy, aren’t you?” You lick that sensitive part, palming his balls. 

Namjoon whines. 

The shift of dynamics, the change of titles ever so dizzying to the mind. He doesn’t even have the strength to correct you. 

He grips the back of your head and moves you away from his cock. Then the realization he’s being rough again wafts over him and he softens his hold, fallen stray hairs coming to rest at your temples. Namjoon tucks them behind your ear. Taps you on the cheek once.

“Get to sucking off your baby girl,” he rasps. 

You smile. Find it immensely attractive that he’s embracing the pet name while still being dominant. A masculinity in its true form.

“You can be rough with me if you want to,” you say, wanting to make that clear. “I think I can handle it.”

Namjoon traces the shell of your ear with his thumb, pondering.

“Just don’t hit me, okay?” 

He says your name sternly, as if you offended him. “I would never deliberately hurt you. How can you think that?” 

“No, I meant—” You lick your lips. “Don’t slap my boobs or anything. You can spank me, I like that. But don’t be as rough with me as you were. Can we take it slow? Is that okay?”

He stares at you for a moment.  

“Do you trust me?”

You nod, turning your head to press a kiss into his palm. “Yes, I trust you.”

“I’ll teach you, then. We’ll take it slow,” he says, fingers stroking the side of your cheek, where a small amount of fluff creates a path for him to lay down his silent love on. “It was a mistake on my part for not preparing you for it, and for that I’m sorry. But I’ll teach you. Show you how good it is.” He pauses. “Until you beg me for it.”

Your throat dries up. The pulsing in your cunt unbearable. 

“Fuck, Namjoon. Save the talk or I’ll come on the spot.” 

“The talk is important,” he reprimands you. “Whether you come or not without my permission is your problem.” 

“Shit,” you whimper, gripping his hand on your cheek. You tighten your hold as if to brattily change his mind on having this kind of control over your orgasm because you need to come as soon as possible. And not just once. You’re sure your dewiness is leaking into the water. 

“No bad words or I’ll fuck your filthy mouth.” 

You gasp. So unused to this side of him. But it turns you on, now that you feel safe. Turns you unstable.

“Say you’re sorry.”

You’re tumbling out the words before he’s even finished with his sentence. “I’m so sorry.”

He beams at your immediate submission, purring at the quintessence of your compliance. Wants more. “Who are you apologizing to?” 

You pause. His usual title almost slips off of your tongue. But since this is new and you’re both experiencing a new dynamic that causes you to feel so playful, that guides you ever so gently and carefully into the kingdom of subspace, you opt for the pet name that suits him well. “To my baby girl,” you say, laughing softly. “I’m so sorry, baby girl.” 

He laughs as well, the sound a deep rumble in his chest. You’re giddy that you’re allowed to be wild, your inner child healing and quivering within you. You overflow with the desire to kiss him.

“What for?”

He wants you to say the full sentence. You take a deep breath. 

“Baby girl, I’m so sorry for having a filthy mouth and saying bad words.”

“Hm, do you regret it?” 

You almost curse again. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry for being bad.”

“Good. Get to work, then,” he says. “Make that mouth useful.”

Fuck.

“Kiss me first, please. Make it better,” you beg, fluttering your eyelashes at him. 

Namjoon moans and you bite your lip. Bends and sucks it between his, deepening the kiss as he opens your jaw and slips his tongue inside. Massages the muscle against yours. Makes those sounds again. Palms his cock. Withdraws with a pop. 

You mewl in satisfaction. That kiss alone ruined you. 

“Good girls get kisses.” Hand under your chin, he squishes your cheeks. “You’ve been exceptionally good. I’m gonna destroy you.” 

He kisses you again with the same intensity but briefly, inhaling your skin. No tongue this time. 

Cheeks awash with rosiness, you hastily unbuckle his belt. Not to cut time and get to his promise faster—on the contrary, you’re dying to pleasure him. He doesn’t help you like he normally does; he merely watches you as you pull down the cotton material of his slacks along with his boxers down his muscular thighs. Only when you wrap your lips around his cock from the side does he throw his head back. Thrusts his hips. 

He’s rock hard. The weight of him makes you absolutely fucked out.

Namjoon likes you there so he keeps you still—there in the middle of his girth. You moan, producing as much saliva as you can to gratify him while he uses your mouth, alternating between keeping those pillows firm and soft. When he gets you to his tip, he expects you to swallow him, but you merely move your head from side to side rapidly, flicking your tongue. Namjoon groans lowly, a string of curse words spilling from his throat. His precum drops onto your chin and you suck in a breath, horny beyond your mind.

You swipe your index finger to collect it. Check if he’s watching before you plunge the digit into your mouth. Roll your eyes back as the tanginess overwhelms your senses. Namjoon hisses. Grabs your braid as if it were a ponytail. Kisses you, aching to be one with you. You feel the vibrations of his fervid mania in unity with him like this and it echoes down your body once he pulls away. 

“Take it in your mouth.” 

Namjoon holds it at the base for you and you find the long vein that you favor so much. Pepper kisses along the length of it, feeling it throb in tandem with your clit. Straightening your spine, you bite your lip. Give him an utter look of adoration before you swipe your tongue along the slit. Humming in delight, you slip him into your mouth. Your cheeks hollow and you begin to bob your head, fingers following your movement, bumping into his fist. Tears pool in your eyes when you dare to inch closer to his hand and even though you gag, you try your hardest to keep him nice and tucked in your warm throat. You sputter and cough, swallowing around him, because you deem he deserves it, knowing how much he loves it when your flesh contracts around him like that, and Namjoon groans deeply. It fills you with a dose of satisfaction almost akin to an orgasm, the lack of oxygen in your brain heightening the experience so much that your head spins. 

“Such a good girl,” he whispers. “Breathe, baby.”

He slips out of your mouth. Pats you on your head before he sinks his fingers into your hair, gripping at the roots. Ascertains you pay attention to him. 

“Don’t do that again,” he says, softly. “You need to breathe. Take a deep breath with me.”

You’re still on your knees and he’s merely looking down at you. You fold your hands on your lap. Your mind is so empty that you’re not sure how you feel right now, having been entirely focused on his pleasure. 

Namjoon inhales deeply with his nose and you do the same.

Inhale, exhale. 

Fondly, he caresses you on your cheek.

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” you explain yourself, thinking that you should.

“I know, baby, and you did. It’s okay, I’m not mad at you.” He smiles at you. “You hear me? I’m not mad at you.”

You nod your head yes. Pout. 

“You feeling okay? Take a deep breath for me again.” 

You do as he says, your senses returning to you like a warm spring wind. 

“Better now?”

You nod again.

“Words.”

You wet your lips with your tongue. “Yes, I feel better now.”

“Good. Do you still wanna continue?”

“Yes, Namjoon. I wanna make you come.” 

Almost like you flipped a switch, his eyes darken. 

“Hands behind your back,” he rasps. 

You oblige, crisscrossing your wrists below the dimples on your lower back.

“‘Atta girl. Back to work, come on.” 

It’s much harder to do so without your hands, especially in the position you’re in. You hesitate.

“I don’t know if I can,” you admit. 

He tuts in pity. “Should I use you then?”

You roll your eyes back, the idea intoxicating your body. You feel woozy. 

“Yes, please.” 

“Focus on your breathing, okay?” 

“Yes, Namjoon.”

Humming, Namjoon grabs your hair gently and sinks your mouth down on his cock, moves you up and down slowly. You focus on not just sucking in your cheeks but also on breathing through your nose like he told you, although you can’t help but moan around him. It turns you on how he manhandles you to his liking so delicately. You swirl your tongue around his tip once he wants you there and you let out a series of whines and whimpers. He keeps you there for a little longer, moaning after you, the sounds creating a paradisiacal symphony. You twist your head in half circles as you continue sucking him, slobbering all over him, using your tongue to flick beneath the mushroom. 

“So good, baby. Yes, fuck.” Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re gonna make me come.” 

You pull away, but a string of saliva still connects you to him. 

He blinks at you. “You want a spanking?” 

You run the tip of your tongue along the top of your lip, giving him the eyes. Cock your eyebrow at him. Namjoon draws a sharp breath in. 

He leans over. One hand tugs at your braid firmly to arch your back over the edge of the tub. The other smacks you sharply on your ass cheek, smoothing over the sting. You moan, nipples rubbing over the cold surface, curse words dying on your tongue. Namjoon grips the flesh, spanks you again. Skims his fingers over your exposed heat. Repeats it on the other cheek, twice in a row. You wiggle your hips, needing to feel more, needing him to touch you right there between your legs. You cry out into his ear.

Letting go of your braid, Namjoon kisses you beneath your jaw. Slides his tongue along the sensitive spot, sucking it between his lips. A secret message that he hears you, that he’ll fuck your needy cunt soon.

“Think you’ll be a good girl for now?” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you nod a few times. Not a single rational thought passes through your brain. 

Namjoon straightens. Pulls down his foreskin for you. “Spit on it.” 

You watch as your liquid love trickles down and lands on his tip. He hums and surprises you by wrapping your hands around his girth, spreading down the lubrication with you. You feel the ridges and the thick vein in a new, vehement way and even though you’re not the one pleasured, you moan. The simple up and down movement grows in rapidness that your body follows, emulating the effort, making it seem like you’re bouncing on a dick. Your ass splashes the water around, creating tender waves full of love, inherited from your still leaking dewiness. 

His hands are so warm enclasped around yours, pressed tight. Not once unclenching.

You start blabbering. 

“You’re so big. I can’t even wrap my hand around you.” You make sure to look him in the eyes as you say it. “So big in my mouth, too. Could barely fit you.” 

Your words set those twilit embers in his eyes on fire. His breathing quickens. He’s close again and you’re stunned, once more, by the vividness of his sexuality. Your hands go limp in his grasp.

“Nuh-uh, keep up the pace,” he husks. “Thought I was your little baby girl?” 

You shake your head, willing your hands to gain strength again, but it has no source to draw from. “Not anymore.”

Namjoon chuckles, darkly. Notices your movements fluctuating, arms shaking. “Tired?”

You nod and he unclasps his hands. You twist your wrists in circles to alleviate them from a cramp. 

Then, you get an idea.

Sitting back on your heels, you arch your back. Tip your chin down and spit on your chest, the essence flowing down the pathway between your breasts. You do it again, though this time you spread it on your skin. 

“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon mumbles. Unbuttons his shirt. You squeeze your nipples with both hands as your eyes flick to his, then down to his exposed chest. “How are you gonna address me, huh? What’s my name?”

He forcefully tugs the fabric off of his arms, tossing it on the floor. His body—with its vulgar beauty, broadness and definition—takes your breath away. You don’t let it show, or perhaps you pretend that you don’t because you allow your hand to travel down your stomach. Namjoon imitates you, running his fingers down the chiseled muscles that make you drool. He stops at the hair adorning his pelvis. You don’t.

You rub circles on your clit instead.

“Daddy,” you cry out in pleasure, announcing his title—his rightful, most fitting title. Face contorting at the brisk, blooming flashes of sensuality rising up your form.

His body tenses. It’s like he’s stopping himself from reaching for you, pulling you out of the bathtub and spanking you until your bottom resembles the water. Or tugging at his length until he paints you white with his cum. 

You make it easy for him. 

Lifting your body, you step over the edge of the bathtub. Kneel at his feet on the fluffy black mat. Far enough for him to see purple liquid pearls make their way down to your cunt. Far enough for him to see how you resume those circles on your bundle of nerves, fingers reaching to your hole for lubrication. You roll your hips into your hand, arm propped behind you.

“What’s this show?” Namjoon rasps, his cock twitching. “I don’t remember giving you permission to touch yourself. You wanna end up with zero orgasms?”

You pause. 

“That’s what I thought,” he says. “I believe you have unfinished work to do.” 

You smile mischievously. “You want it bad, don’t you?” 

Namjoon nods. Holds out his hand. “Come to Daddy.”

Exuberantly, you leap into his arms. Namjoon throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing and walks into your shared bedroom. Sets you down on your bed, spreading your legs, and he crouches between them, reaching into his bedside table for the tool that he wants. 

The aroma of strawberries lovingly boops you on the nose. Namjoon squirts a good amount of lubrication on your chest, paying special attention to the pathway in the middle of your breasts. He massages it in, incorporates your sensitive nipples in the preparation, coaxing whimper after whimper out of you by squeezing them and rolling them between his long fingers.

“I’m gonna make a mess,” you say, grinding your hips against nothing.

Namjoon clicks his tongue. “Already?” 

Your dewiness oozes out of you onto the bedding. To prove your point, you lean back on your elbows and lift your knees, revealing your dripping hole and the shine of your soaked folds. Namjoon stares at your cunt but doesn’t touch, doesn’t blink. He bites his lip. Flicks his eyes to yours. 

He kisses the middle of your tummy. Moves over to your heat. Licks a tiny stripe on your clit.

You cry out.

“Namjoon!”

Hands on either side of your waist, crawling up to you, he growls. “Good girls are patient, aren’t they?” 

He doesn’t wait for your response. 

“They take what is given to them and they finish what they started,” he continues. “Don’t they?”

You nod.

“And you are a good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl.” 

“Then thank your Daddy for what he gave you.” 

Your walls squeeze around nothing when you hear him utter his title. It refreshes your body with energy. 

“Thank you, Daddy.” You smile. 

Namjoon kisses you, rewarding you.

“Sit up.”

Changing the layout, it’s Namjoon who reclines halfway on the bed while you sit perched on your knees between his legs, cock in your face. He spurts the lube on his length and jerks himself off, his skin shining in the abrupt spillage of burnt-orange sunlight from the window. Watches your eyes round in astonishment similarly to the way they did earlier when you had gazed upon the glitter swarming around you. 

He nods at you, giving you the green light, and you sheathe his girth into the tightness of your squished tits. You may start a face pace from the get go, fucking him into oblivion, but all Namjoon sees is the whites of your eyes, the glimmer, the pure enjoyment of what you’re doing while the rest of you is immersed in subdued late afternoon shadows. Sweat glistens on the planes of his face, dribbling down to the strained column of his neck.

It’s intense. So intense that he can’t vocally react. 

Precum appears once more on his mushroom, displaying his arousal, and you slurp it up, the braid coming undone—your hair falling around you like a curtain. 

It’s brutal. It’s wet. 

Namjoon gathers your hair to the side in a makeshift ponytail and leans over to be closer to you. Needs you like this. Feels his relief catching up to him the more effort you put in, the more you stick out your tongue to flick at that sensitive part of him whenever you can. 

“Want your come. So bad. Want it all over me,” you whisper, and that’s it for him. 

“Say please,” he murmurs, and it’s barely a sound, but you hear him. 

“Please, Daddy, come for me.” 

Pulling your hands away, Namjoon takes charge. Fucks your tits in frenzy, your hair, now half dry, tickling your skin. With his thumbs, he stimulates your nipples to coax those little sounds of yours and—

“Play with your pussy,” he commands. “But don’t come. Tease yourself like you teased Daddy.”

The relief on your face inches him closer to his. He hears the wetness as you dip a finger in, your walls sucking it in. He hears your breath get stuck in your throat. The slow crescendo of your moans. Suddenly, he hears himself too. 

Whiny, desperate, so unlike himself.

It’s a fortress of safety, his forehead on top of yours. His nose bumping against yours. Open mouth ghosting over the sounds of your well-deserved pleasure. It’s a safe place for him to come in.  

And he does. 

Ropes upon ropes of come color you ivory white, color you clean. The reversal of a coloring book—changing the lines, changing the scheme, changing your life. 

You milk him dry, your pussy long forgotten. Milk him until he pushes you away, chest heaving, unable to catch his breath. You just watch him, his seed hot on your chest. Glittery. And not just there. On your neck, on your chin, in the wavy strands of your hair. 

You’re in awe of him. You can see the pressure leaving him like a ghost slinking out of the window. 

Namjoon takes off his glasses. With two fingers, he collects as much of his essence as he can and plunges them into your mouth. The other hand rests on the crook of your neck, thumb protectively over your throat. “Swallow.”

Not for long. Namjoon throws you on the bed. Doesn’t waste time.

He laps up your pussy, clit to hole, sucking your labia into his mouth. He does it again, but this time he travels a bit further. Clit, hole, ass. Tongue flat. Your screams are muffled by the rumpled bedsheet you grip.

Going back to your leaking hole, he circles the flesh before he dips the tongue in. Wraps his arms around your ass to control your squirming, feeling the dip of your spine as the sunlight kisses it. Dust particles spiral in the air—Namjoon sees it. The dark grey curtain keeping half of the world shrouded in dimness while the other illuminated, a picture cut in a heart shape due to the deliciousness of your ass. 

Fuck, Namjoon longs to play with it again. 

He spits on it, rubbing the saliva around it before he slides his tongue back into your wet hole. Says hello to it—long time no see—teases it, before he dips his thumb in. You arch your back even more, welcoming the intrusion, and Namjoon kisses your pussy lips as a thank you. He quivers with the craving to fuck you right there in your ass, but knows better than to do it. You’re not ready for it. 

Spreading you more open, while keeping his thumb there in that sweet place, he begins to focus on your poor little clit. Swirls his tongue around it firmly, sucking it until your back trembles—goes up and down like a seesaw. The kisses he leaves there are obscene, loud, full of thankfulness that he gets to play with you. Full of love for you that he burns bright with—that propels him to flick his tongue harder. And full of joy that his stress is gone. Joy that you’ve been the helper unscrewing the steel body of heaviness off of his because, as of now, his bones feel lighter.

“You’re so good for me.” He smacks his lips against your cunt. “Fucking Daddy like that when he needed you.” 

Vigorously, he rubs his face against you, shaking his head from side to side. You stretch your fingers behind you and helplessly grip the back of your thighs. Namjoon catches one of your hands, holds it with his free four fingers, sucking your clit. 

“Thank you, baby,” he whispers, withdrawing to pay attention to your other hole, missing it. Abuses it once he spits on it, eating it, dipping his tongue in with ease since he stretched you. Fucks you there in the only way he can. 

“Wanna come?” he asks and as he waits for your answer, he goes lower to drink your freshness, not letting a drop go to waste. 

You’ve lost your voice screaming. “Yes, Daddy, please. I can’t hold it in anymore. Please, let me come,” you croak. 

Namjoon makes a sound of appreciation, proud of you for holding out for so long without saying anything.

“I think you can,” he says. Stuffs a finger into your dripping hole and lets you adjust for a moment. Adds another. “I think you can hold it while I count to ten.” 

His digits pump into you slowly. Kneeling by your side, he turns your head so you can see him, twisting your body into the position he wants. The curve of your back is so beautiful in his sight that he can’t help but run his free hand over the route that your spine has become. The route he wants to plant kisses on like flowers of various colors, adding to the coloring book, erasing the old. 

And he does. Begins at the nape of your neck. Picks up the speed.

“One.” 

You cry out. First before your tears rush out, pooling in your waterline. You clench your whole body in naive hope it would stall the orgasm, but it quickens it, squeezing his fingers in, so you relax your muscles. 

“Two.” 

A kiss to the first round protrusion of your spine. Shifting your weight to your shoulder, you take his cock into your hand. 

“Three.”

The middle of your shoulder blades. You hear your wetness oozing out of you, the relief prowling closer. You whine and Namjoon understands.

“Hold it or I’ll stop,” he whispers. “I can feel your pussy squeezing around my fingers. Relax.” 

You match your pace with his. Namjoon begins to pant. You feel his hot, heavy breath beneath your shoulder blades. 

“Six.” 

Ass shaking from the force, he jackhammers into you. Pulls out for a moment to spank you, a merciful gesture, before he’s back in. Leaves a wet fingerprint on your skin.

“Eight.”

The last protrusion of your spine. You silence your moans by pressing your hand against your mouth because they bring you closer to your orgasm, however Namjoon yanks your arm away. 

“Make those pretty sounds for me, come on,” he huffs, kissing both of those dimples on your back. “Ten. Come. Come for Daddy. Come all over his hand.”

And you do.

It’s a paradise, the heat closing in on you. The loss of hearing, the muted ringing, resembling the flap of a bird’s wing. The loss of surroundings as you’re momentarily transported somewhere entirely else. A gilded illustration, perhaps a lively projection. Something, somewhere, where all is good. The orgasm rips through you and the repetitive echo of his name leaving your mouth is what brings you back. Away from the storybook into a brand new coloring book.

Namjoon strokes your hair. 

He holds you in his arms, but something sticks you uncomfortably together. You peel yourself off of him and cringe. Strings upon strings of his come, gleaming with speckles of glitter, do not want you to leave. You sit on his thighs, resting your palms on his chest. 

He kisses you. “Are you okay?”

You nod with droopy eyelids. 

He carries you into the shower and makes a way for all colors of the rainbow to perfuse your body. To create a new storyline for the day, for the week, for the month. Reds and pinks show their faces first in the steam, and even though Namjoon is glad to see them, he looks forward to meeting the rest. To learning their objectives so he can fulfill them. 

Grabbing the yellow book on the way back to the bedroom, Namjoon makes himself comfortable beside you. Is careful not to touch your face out of habit because you have a face mask on; careful not to bump into you either because you have a plate of mozzarella and sliced tomatoes on your lap. He kisses your hair, though. Doesn’t have the strength to fight internally—grabs your jawline and ever so slowly and heedfully, he kisses you, fingers finding the first chapter unwittingly. 

“When Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from troubled dreams, he found himself changed into a monstrous cockroach in his bed.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

#btscreatorscorner #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon x oc #namjoon imagine #bts smut #bts imagine #bts scenarios #bts fic #kpop smut #namjoon scenarios #bangtanwritershq #btswritersclub #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #bangtanwriters net #knj x reader #knj smut #knj

[7ndipity]

Aftercare Headcanons

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: How each member would handle aftercare with their S/o

Warnings: mentions of sex(nothing explicit tho), not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this!(note: since I did a similar list for Hobi a while back, part of his section is kinda reiterations from that post).

Masterlist

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Jin:

Aftercare with him is pretty quiet, tbh. He tends to get a lil shy after sex, especially if it was a rougher, more intense session, so he mainly likes to just hold you and talk for a while to help you both calm down.

He’s pretty simplistic when it comes to his routine(hydrate, wash up, sleep), but he’s super cute and gentle about the whole process, cracking lame jokes here and there to make you laugh(lowkey bc it’s part of how he checks to make sure you’re in a good headspace afterwards, but also just bc it’s Jin)

Lots of soft kisses and lingering touches as the two of you clean up(loves showering with you and would totally just stay in there hugging you till the water runs cold)

Will happily make you both some snacks if you’re hungry, but he definitely needs a nap with you to fully recharge.

Yoongi:

As I’ve said before, acts of service is his main love language, so this is very much his wheelhouse.

He’s surprisingly cuddly after sex, especially if it was a more intense session. He finds quiet skinship afterwards even more important than during the act. He might restrict your hands so you can’t touch him during sex, but afterwards he’s making sure to hold them and let you touch and feel him, helping both of you ground yourselves.

He might not be the most elaborate with his routine, but he’s very serious about the basics. Like, he knows you might feel too tired to do much, but he will nag your ear off about dehydration and the dangers of UTIs if he has to till you drink some water and go to the bathroom.

He kinda melts when you look after him too, tending any scratches or marks and offering to massage any sore muscles. He’s used to being the one in the caregiver role, so when the roles reverse, he turns into the softest baby.

Hobi:

He’s so soft and giggly after sex, his hands never leaving you, playing with your hands as he leaves little kisses all over your face, speaking softly as he asks how you feel and if there’s anything you need.

He tends to go into caretaker mode a lil bit, making sure you have some water, maybe a snack if you feel up for it, carefully checking you over for any marks or sore spots that need extra care if it was a more intense session.

He almost forgets to look after himself as well until you kinda take the reins on him, treating him in much the same manner as he does you. Loves when you wash his hair for him in the shower.

After you’re both clean and back in the bed, he likes to just kinda hang out with you, watching a movie or show together, even though he almost always ends up falling asleep while you play with his hair.

Namjoon:

Honestly, he gets a little shy/nervous during aftercare? He knows he has a tendency of getting pretty rough even during softer sessions, so once he calms down and his head clears, he wants to make sure you’re okay and that he didn’t go overboard.

Handles you so tenderly and with so much gentleness. Takes a lot of pride in getting to look after you in such intimate ways, washing and drying your body, helping you get dressed, making sure you eat and drink something before you fall asleep, etc.

Absolutely melts at the way you take care of him afterwards too, always ready with gentle reassurances and soothing touches as you work out any soreness he has(could honestly lead to a super soft round two if you’re not careful)

He doesn’t usually fall asleep that quickly after sex, so once you’re both clean and settled in the bed or wherever, he likes to talk for a while till one of you falls asleep, tending to get a little sentimental as he goes on.

Jimin:

He’s so sweet and comforting after sex, aftercare with him would be full of the softest touches and kisses, refusing to leave your side for more than a minute(unless you want some time by yourself, then he’s waiting impatiently for the second you say okay so he can tackle you for another cuddle session)

Likes just getting to lay with you for a while as you come down, talking quietly while running his hands over your body absent-mindedly or playing with your fingers to help you both ground yourselves.

Takes looking after you quite seriously though, making sure you drink enough water and do some stretches to relieve any soreness in your limbs before moving on to the shower to clean up(where he will continue to hug/cling to you as you help wash each other)

Gets quite tired afterwards, but will only fall asleep once he’s sure you’re both okay and tended to, either holding you close to his chest or vice versa.

Taehyung:

He’s usually super sleepy after sex, so initial aftercare is pretty basic, but still super important for both of you.

He tends to get really clingy, needing to hold you close as the two of you talk and get your bearings, seeking reassurance that you’re okay and that you both feel good, that you love him, etc.

Honestly, you might have to take the reigns a little bit to make sure you’re both clean and hydrated and taken care of in those ways before he falls asleep on you(he just feels soo subby to me, I can’t)

In the morning/after a nap however, you’re waking up to a bubble bath, food, massages, the full royal treatment. He basically waits on you hand and foot for the next couple hours to make up for his initial lack of focus.

Jungkook:

He is so soft but serious about aftercare. He knows he can be more than a little rough when he’s lost in the moment, so he tries to counter that by being extra gentle with you afterwards.

He has the whole thing down to a system, it’s almost like a post workout routine for him, (lowkey the type to high-five you afterwards like “good job babe”🙄)

He’s honestly kinda hyper about the whole thing? Like, as soon as he manages to catch his breath, he’s immediately up and all over the place, getting you both some water, helping you to the bathroom to wash up(will straight up carry you if your legs are shaky) grabbing some fresh sheets if needed.

It’s only once you’re both clean and tended to that he kinda starts to slump and gets tired and cuddly, snuggling close to you before dozing off.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

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[pe-arls]

#art #aesthetic #soft aesthetic #soft minimalism #namjoon layouts #namjoon lockscreens #namjoon lq #namjoon icons #namjoon imagine #namjoon instagram #namjoon packs #namjoon moodboard #namjoon messy icons #namjoon messy layouts #namjoon messy packs #namjoon messy headers #namjoon scenarios #namjoon drabble #namjoon bts #namjoon bangtan #namjoon bios #kpop moodboard #moodboard #minimalist lockscreens #minimalist wallpaper #bts layouts #bts lockscreen #bts lq icons #bts low quality #bts moodboard

[7brownsuga7]

Namjoon boyfriend headcanon ♡

He’ll let you sit in on his studio sessions. Wanting to hear your input on his creations, and sometimes just vibing to random music.

Will guide you down the streets with his hand on your lower back. And he refuses to allow you to walk by the road

I can see him reading you one of the books he’s reading while you lay in bed, his words and voice lulling you to sleep.

Will take off guard pictures of you.

His camera roll is filled with candid picture and videos of you. And he will randomly show them to his friends/family.

Great boyfriend etiquette

Can’t help but to think about the future. He’s so excited to have you in his life that he just can’t help but to think about what the future holds. He constantly finds himself daydreaming, and even casually brings it up with you.

He’s very passionate and wears his heart on his sleeve.

He takes relationships seriously and doesn’t have time for petty arguments, he wants to make it work and hates arguing, even though he kind of escalates it by always needing to be right. When you guys have an argument he will want to properly talk it out and will take your feelings into consideration. If you guys are arguing he will be really hurt. He’ll be in his head a lot and will be deeply affected. Walks to clear his head, venting to close friends, etc.

Love notes!!! You’ll randomly find love letters in random places. Just his way of letting you know how much he loves you and how much you mean to him.

Cute little dates. Like museum trips and park dates. Painting in the park and little picnics and bike rides. He wants to do so much with you and can’t help but to get excited and plan multiple trips/outings/dates

As much as he’ll be caring for you and catering for you, you’ll be doing the same. We all know how clumsy he can be, and we’ve seen him cook (him cooking that ramen on in the soop s2 had me cackling) + he likes to be babied but won’t admit it!

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