oftenderweapons

[oftenderweapons]

The Girlfriends As Tortured Poets

Hiiiiiii

I'm not done with the Vault. Still open, and many WIPS are coming out!!! The plan is to spend the rest of the night heavy editing and finishing Bourbon Bossa Nova! Stay tuned!!!

BUT

To celebrate the drop of The Tortured Poets Department, we're doing more headcanons about The Girlfriends 🥳🥳🥳 This is clearly not about them in a relationship (cause the album's been pretty much tragic on that note) but rather the song I imagine they would love best. Let's go!

Angel

Angel is imgonnagetyouback. It's the perfect mix of revenge and seduction. It's destruction just for the sake of it, petty and fickle. "Whether I'm gonna be your wife or / Gonna smash up your bike, I haven't decided yet" is absolutely something Angel would say - which thrills and terrifies Seokjin beyond measure. Also, probably something she could do. I can see Angel really liking the concept behind the song, the idea of being the best thing at the party and winning over the guy so easily, but you don't want him anymore. That's really Angel's jam. "You'll find that you were never not mine" is something Angel can appreciate: she likes owning someone but never having to be owned in return. And there's also the "I can take the upper hand and touch your body / Flip the script and leave you like a dumb house party" I can see Angel appreciating the power imbalance there, the backhanded rejection, the little sneer of contempt of handing back the hurt you'd been served. Oh, and "Lilac short skirt, the one that fits me like skin", Angel could absolutely wear something like that, the kind of thing that makes Seokjin crawl to her on all fours and kiss up her knees and thighs and go 'couldn't take you home to mother in a skirt that short'.

Kitten

Kitten is thanK you aIMee. Like Angel, she also enjoys some skillfully crafted revenge, especially when served ice-cold. She's the epitome of scheme in private, celebrate in public. And that's precisely why she would dance to this song on her enemies' grave. Oh, and she would absolutely scream 'f*ck you aimee' to the night sky, on a vintage spider car, a bottle of champagne in one hand, her hair wild in the wind, and the deadliest little black dress on. Sunglasses might be involved, even if it's four in the morning. Especially if it's four in the morning. "Everyone knows that my mother is a saintly woman / But she used to say she wished that you were dead" I really see Kitten having this kind of conversation with her mother, or her father. Or Yoongi, really. It wouldn't be unlikely for him to wish death upon her enemies. Probably her father is more likely, but yeah... Anyways, especially during high school and university, when she studied abroad, I can see her comparing herself with other classmates, or being bullied because of her being stunning and smart as the devil, and straight up ruthless during debates, and people hating on her because of how perfect she is. And yes, I imagine she studied abroad, so I would say there was probably a rac!st component in it too.

Giggles

Giggles is But Daddy I Love Him. "Running with my dress unbuttoned" is probably one of the most Giggles' things I can imagine after her and Hoseok meet. Their song in my head is "Fearless", and this is really serving that vibe. Their relationship is all about throwing caution to the wind. I also see her coming from a very religious family, so this kind of adds up. Also, "Me and my wild boy and all of his wild joy" IF THAT ISN'T HOBI WHO COULD IT POSSIBLY EVER BE!!! "I'm tellin' him to floor it through thе fences / No, I'm not coming to my senses / I know he's crazy, but he's the one I want" the way Giggles wants to *go go go* when she and Hoseok finally come to terms with their feelings it's just... It's unparalleled. She's all in. "Growin' up precocious sometimes means / Not growin' up at all" this is truly Giggles: sensitive kid, always more sensitive than the people around her, more emotionally mature than other kids means that she's always been guarded about her inner child, but then comes Hobi and she's just SAFE around him. She just wants to run wild with him, let all her restraints fall, unbraid her hair and let it flow in the wind. "Thinkin' it can change the beat / Of my heart when he touches me" just there. It's the way she just goes full blush, full heartthrob when he puts his hands on her. That's who they are, just kids running free.

Vixen

Vixen is So High School. Yes, because girlie likes songs that make her feel like falling in love with Namjoon over and over. The analogies here are tragic (LOL) She's never really had a High School romance, and with Namjoon she's finally getting her teenage romance. There's the "crinkling eye" which is Joon's way of winking and smiling with his eyes, there's the "tell me 'bout the first time you saw me", which is Vixen's obsession with hearing his side of the story, with the way he words things and romanticises them. "Your friends are around, so be quiet/I'm trying to stifle my sighs" which really reflects their way of sneaking around to get handsy. And then "Are you gonna marry, kiss or kill me? [...] I'm bettin' on all three for us two" which reflects how all-encompassing they are with each other. They get married pretty quickly, and then of course the kissing is obvious, but it's also the kind of situation in which they would hurt each other the most (hence the 'killing') if they ever ended up quitting things. "Brand new, full throttle" again, they mess around for a couple months at the beginning, but once he confesses, they're all in, full speed, he's making her move in, putting a ring on it. "You knew what you wanted and, boy, you got her" is the way Vixen is exactly Namjoon's dream girl, it's like he crafted her out of thin air. "No onе's ever had me not like you" is obviously Vixen's way of saying he is her one and only, no man before him matters.

Princess

Girlie is full on I Can Do It With A Broken Heart. Powerhouse, firebreathing bitch queen Princess can absolutely conquer anything she wants, no matter her state. "'Cause I'm a real tough kid / I can handle my shit / They said, "Babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and I did" She is the toughest out of all girlfriends, the true Girlboss, the Gaslighter the Gatekeeper, the Go-Getter. This song was written for her. "You know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart" Princess knows she's The Sh!t, the hottest, the smartest, the toughest. This is Her Anthem!!! "Ah, try and come for my job" she knows she's the best (catch Jimin cheerleading for her with this song LOL) I just love the idea of Princess being this huge overachieving hyperactive micromanaging menace, and this just gives me all the right vibes about her. Also, she does that while looking like an absolute superstar bombshell, which brings about circa 10437 bonus points. Kudos to my Princess ✨

She probably also has a thing for Florida!!! (or maybe that's just me projecting LOL)

Lace

Lace is the first Girlfriend I knew woud l match with I Could Fix Him. I can see her feeling like that about Taehyung, but also being generally that much of a powergirlie to actually getting men to behave. "The smoke cloud billows out his mouth", I mean, it's now factual that Taehyung has smoked on occasions, or is maybe a smoker. "They shake their heads sayin', "God, help her"/ When I tell 'em he's my man / But your good Lord doesn't need to lift a finger / I can fix him, no, really, I can / And only I can": this is a huge power trip for Lace. She loves the concept of this, the idea that she can do it all on her own. "And I could see it from a mile away / A perfect case for my certain skill set / He had a halo of the highest gradе / He just hadn't met me yеt" again, she loves the idea of being the one who can fix him, keep him in check, hold him accountable. "Good boy, that's right, come close / I'll show you Heaven if you'll be an angel, all mine / Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man / No really, I can" again, I love the idea that he feels like a challenge to her, and all the keeping him in check, especially about uhm... 'showing heaven' *winkwink* and I mean, there was a bit of weaseling and bribing and blurring the lines there. Plus, she can handle him perfectly, and she's gloats a little at the thought that maybe other people would struggle and flinch and break, but she knows how to bend, how to snap back, how to hold him accountable for his wrong-doings.

Candy

No fighting this, no competition, Candy is all The Alchemy. "This happens once every few lifetimes / These chemicals hit me like white wine" Candy knows her thing with Jk is rare as hell. She's lucky and she's going to guard what she has. And yes, she's going to feel drunk from the fall. "Cause the sign on your heart / Said it's still reserved for me / Honestly, who are we to fight thе alchemy?" during Jk's first tour after meeting Candy they hit some sort of hiatus but once he returns, he's hers still and they hit it off harder than before. If this isn't them I don't know what is. "Where's the trophy? He just comes runnin' over to me" if this isn't top tier Jk behaviour, if you don't see him doing that, and picking her up the way Travis totally dwarfed Taylor at the end of the Superbowl, then I'm sorry my guys, I did you dirty, they're absolutely *that* type of couple.

Nice, okay, thanks for sticking by! See yah!

Oh, and stay tuned for The Vaults voting 💜✨

#ttpd #bts blog #headcanons #bts headcanons #the girlfriends

[oftenderweapons]

Failed to post Bourbon Bossa Nova by Saturday, yet lots of editing still going on ✨✨✨

I’ll be back to you asap 💜💜💜

Start thinking about your next Vault WIP! Much much love 😘✨

#dita is here! #dita's untimely updates

[oftenderweapons]

Update on The Vault - round 1

The people have spoken! I’ve been spending the last 2 days editing the WIP that won!!! I was so surprised!

The goal is to post possibly Saturday night, so stay tuned 🥰💕✨

#dita is here!

[oftenderweapons]

Just one day left!!! Vote now 💕💕💕

From the Vault - round 1

Dear reader,

In a journey of rediscovering my own writing and my WIP cellar, I have decided to let you decide what I should return to, based on what you wish most to read.

Lacking motivation, limited engagement and limiting beliefs have repeatedly hindered me from returning here, where I've often ended up comparing my own writing to others', using notes as a way to determine whether my stories were successful, which led me to underestimate and be less grateful for the effort and pleasure of writing.

I've ended up writing anyway, but not going through the ordeal of publishing, fearing judgement and rejection and disappointment for pieces that took me days, or weeks, sometimes month of devotion and love and fatigue to invent and birth and polish. It often came across to me as a rejection and disinterest for all the pain and healing and comfort each piece pulled me through, like a rope tied around my middle lifting me through several layers of existence.

Now, for the most important part, here are the candidates for this week's vault

The votes will be open for one week. Thank you for staying with me through all these fast and rough times. I hope you know that you are one of the reasons I'm still here, still standing, still writing, still challenging myself.

I am so grateful, so brightly enlightened by your existence ✨💜

Yours always,

Dita

#dita is here! #icymi <3

[oftenderweapons]

[oftenderweapons]

Still running! Go vote!!!

From the Vault - round 1

Dear reader,

In a journey of rediscovering my own writing and my WIP cellar, I have decided to let you decide what I should return to, based on what you wish most to read.

Lacking motivation, limited engagement and limiting beliefs have repeatedly hindered me from returning here, where I've often ended up comparing my own writing to others', using notes as a way to determine whether my stories were successful, which led me to underestimate and be less grateful for the effort and pleasure of writing.

I've ended up writing anyway, but not going through the ordeal of publishing, fearing judgement and rejection and disappointment for pieces that took me days, or weeks, sometimes month of devotion and love and fatigue to invent and birth and polish. It often came across to me as a rejection and disinterest for all the pain and healing and comfort each piece pulled me through, like a rope tied around my middle lifting me through several layers of existence.

Now, for the most important part, here are the candidates for this week's vault

The votes will be open for one week. Thank you for staying with me through all these fast and rough times. I hope you know that you are one of the reasons I'm still here, still standing, still writing, still challenging myself.

I am so grateful, so brightly enlightened by your existence ✨💜

Yours always,

Dita

#dita is here! #icymi <3

[oftenderweapons]

From the Vault - round 1

Dear reader,

In a journey of rediscovering my own writing and my WIP cellar, I have decided to let you decide what I should return to, based on what you wish most to read.

Lacking motivation, limited engagement and limiting beliefs have repeatedly hindered me from returning here, where I've often ended up comparing my own writing to others', using notes as a way to determine whether my stories were successful, which led me to underestimate and be less grateful for the effort and pleasure of writing.

I've ended up writing anyway, but not going through the ordeal of publishing, fearing judgement and rejection and disappointment for pieces that took me days, or weeks, sometimes month of devotion and love and fatigue to invent and birth and polish. It often came across to me as a rejection and disinterest for all the pain and healing and comfort each piece pulled me through, like a rope tied around my middle lifting me through several layers of existence.

Now, for the most important part, here are the candidates for this week's vault

The votes will be open for one week. Thank you for staying with me through all these fast and rough times. I hope you know that you are one of the reasons I'm still here, still standing, still writing, still challenging myself.

I am so grateful, so brightly enlightened by your existence ✨💜

Yours always,

Dita

#dita is here! #park jimin x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #kim namjoon x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts fanfiction blog

[oftenderweapons]

i’d like to read small town swoons chronologically! could you recommend on how to do so? ty!!!!!

love ur works sm!!!! ❤️‍🔥

Hi dearie!

Thank you for showing interest in Small Town Swoons 💖✨

So the ideal order would be to start with Yoongi's Sugar & Spice

Then proceed with

Jin's Apple Of My Pie

And then continue with

Taehyung's Mold Me New

Ideally Namjoon's Natural Connection takes place sometime along Taehyung's story, and ends shortly after, but Namjoon's fic is still a work in progress, which I plan to finish and post later this spring (as soon as I figure out how to fit everything in the chapter I have planned LOL)

So for now this is how I suggest to proceed 😉 Stay tuned and enjoy 📚✨💜

#small town swoons #dita is here! #ask anon #bts fanfic

[oftenderweapons]

I have been working SO HARD for the next DTRH update!!! Writing every second I have but guys,,,, 8.8k words and I'm like,,,, 60% done 😶‍🌫️🙃🫠🤠🤠🤠

#Party party yeah #dita is here!

[oftenderweapons]

There's something excruciating delicious about writing a filthy-as-sin multiple-pov smut scene on Valentine's day in my lovely pink puffer jacket and pink mohair ribbon in the subway amongst unsuspecting commuters

#dita is here! #Also mourning the fact that I forgot to put on my pretty pink lipbalm #Down the rabbit hole #bts maknae line

[oftenderweapons]

Just a friendly reminder that if you don't have anything fun to do on this fine Friday night,,,,,

You can always do long distance flirty f*ckboy husband!Namjoon

👀😈😈😈

London Calling | KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon x Vixen

Wordcount: 3.1k

Genre: Fluff, smut, pwp, established relationship!AU, idol!Au, Married!AU

Rating: 18+; minors, please do not interact

Synopsis: Vixen has decided to distract herself from Namjoon's incumbent enlistment by focusing on her job. She has accepted adding more international works to her portfolio and is currently in London; too bad Namjoon can't help but post risqué pictures on his Instagram, and it really seems he's doing so to try and get her attention.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Swearing, Fear of infidelity, Nostalgia. Extremely mild DDLG dynamics, Babygirl!Vixen, Brat!Vixen, Phone sex, Masturbation, Dirty talking. Mentions of: Oral sex (both male and female receiving), Lingerie kink, Sex toys, Spanking. Oh, and one of Joon's friends simps for Vixen.

As usual, you can find my masterlist right here! I wouldn't mind if you took a few seconds to leave a comment or reblog my fic 🥰 Also, my requests are always open!!!

Enjoy 💜✨

“Been hearing someone’s on their worst behaviour.”

Namjoon’s chuckle on the opposite end of the line is everything you need to know. “What can I say, my last moral anchor is busy girlbossing around the world.” He licks his lips and sits down on the sofa, his friends messing around his kitchen, beers and liquors spread around your marble counter. “I’m missing my lucky star.”

“Your guardian angel.”

“My only angel,” he flirts. 

The game is back on between you and Namjoon. Ever since you decided to stop waiting around for his enlistment and have started accepting international projects on your portfolio, it’s like no matter where either of you are, it’s always time to flirt on the phone. 

Or mess around even more. 

He’s touched down in London for you about two weeks ago, showing up at your hotel room with an Agent Provocateur bag dangling from his pretty fingers and the kind of smile that always gets you shimmying out of your panties. 

“What are you up to, love? What time is it over there?”

“Uh-huh. I’m the one doing the asking here, mister.” 

He puts his glass back on the coffee table, and leans over with his elbows on his knees. “I’m just trying to feed my imagination, little fox. What’s a boy to do, with an empty bed and a sexy wife on the other side of the world?”

“I don’t know, maybe be more careful before talking talks he can’t walk?” you suggest. 

He lowers his voice before saying, “You’d be over my knee right now, you know?”

You decide to talk back, just to mess him up further. Your voice is like midnight fog when you tell him, “you’d have to catch me first.”

He steals a glance towards the kitchen. This feels an awful lot like when the two of you began hanging out — the secrecy, the craving, the distance, and the pining. Except this time you have rings on your hands and there’s no doubting loyalty, not on his nor your behalf. 

He toys with his own ring, tracing it with his thumb, twisting it a little to the left, then to the right, back and forth. 

“It seems you appreciated that quick leak…” 

You click your tongue. “One of these days you’re gonna end up naked in those pics and I’ll have to come home to do damage control.”

“Is that all it takes to have you back home? I miss my territorial little vixen.” He stares at your stash of books in the bookshelf, standing tall right next to his, but looking twice more put together. 

“I’ve noticed you’ve been acting sluttier lately.”

“At least I haven’t gone entirely shirtless yet.” He picks up the glass again and you hear him swallowing through the line. “Unlike some of my friends. You should consider yourself lucky.”

“Lucky, you say?” 

He hears the sound of a glass being put down. “Are you drinking, babygirl?”

You cock an eyebrow and stare at your glass of red wine. “I’m dined and wined. You know which bit is missing. But it seems you’re not that deserving.”

“What did you eat?” He doesn’t grant you the courtesy of winning this sensual verbal sparring. That tiny comment about being dined and wined was a trap, he can tell. Looking so casual and half-hearted can only mean you expected him to go there, and if he does, he’ll probably end up right where you wanted him. 

He can do better. 

“I had a steak. With a lovely truffle cream. I’ll have to make it for you next time you’re around.” Your reply comes off beat, and he smiles, happy that he caught you off guard. 

If this were a match of martial arts, you’d be dwindling a little, your balance compromised. “I’d love to. Miss your tiramisu. Your cheesecake. Your aglio e olio. Your sweet little ass working around the kitchen.”

You laugh, the sound as bright and heartstopping as ever. Blood rushes to his cheeks. He loves making you laugh. “You got the guys over, I assume? Four in the morning?”

“We just finished working. Like maybe an hour ago or so.” He can’t keep calm anymore. Everytime you call him when he’s home, his gaze keeps wandering to every piece of it that belongs to you. 

Sometimes it’s suffocating. Sometimes he sleeps back at the studio. Sometimes he stays over at other people’s places. 

Now it’s the portrait of your orchids that you had commissioned for him. It sits next to his bonsais, so he can think of your collection each time he’s watering his own. 

Sometimes he wonders who is whose subtext, because at times he thinks you’re the one who picked up habits from him, other times he thinks it’s him who accidentally got into certain hobbies through the years so he could be your exact shadow once the two of you finally met and aligned. 

“Also, you’re calling at four in the morning,” he observes. “Oh…” He rubs the back of his head, then plops back on the sofa, as if he were deflating slowly. “Right. I’m your booty call.” He chuckles. “Almost forgot.”

“I can find someone else in a more suitable time zone, if that sits well with you,” you reply, your tone just a tiny bit annoyed. His nonchalance irks you just a little. 

“That your sneaky link, man?” you hear someone holler on his side. 

“So now I’m miss sneaky link, huh? Not bad, mister booty call.” You click your tongue. “I’ll leave you to your friends. I thought you were alone, didn’t mean to disturb.” This could be your chance to win this match. 

“No, don’t go because they’re about to. Kind of right now,” he says, looking towards the kitchen and nodding towards the door. “Sorry guys. Vixen’s rule.”

“He don’t deserve you, honey,” one of his friends calls. “Just one chance, miss. Kindly.”

“We’re literally married,” he tells the guy, then to you, “Bum says hi.”

“Oh, hi sweetie. What are your thoughts on the London timezone?” you ask, coquettishly.

“Careful, fox.” Namjoon’s voice is stern when it comes on. It makes you sit taller on your seat, redirecting the pressure in between your thighs. “And you’d better not reply, Bum.”

The guy stares at Namjoon as he says. “For you, anything, my queen. Though, from personal experience, it’s excellent for your late nights and our early mornings. If you know you know,” Bum suggests. 

Namjoon slaps the guy’s back with the most sarcastic smile on his face. “Time to go, dude.” 

“Starcrossed lovers, that’s our fate, my queen.”

You laugh loudly and Namjoon is a little annoyed. “All the great loves are those that never happened, Bum.”

“Guys, I’m literally right here!?” Namjoon says, embarrassed and just a tad annoyed. “You, get out of my house. And stop trying to seduce my wife.”

“Bum, can you keep an eye on him? Kinda worried I might not be the only sneaky link of his.” You joke about it, but deep down, there’s always a sliver of worry in it. You wouldn’t be surprised if some of his friends were encouraging him to be unloyal to you just because you decided to push forward with your career. 

“He’s too busy panting for you to even begin thinking about someone else.” Bum’s putting on his shoes by the door, hushered by Namjoon. His three other friends are similarly getting dressed, laughing at the exchange. 

“Literally, Vixen—”

Namjoon looks like he’s baring his teeth at Bum using his nickname for you. 

“He’s whipped. We keep him in check, but it’s like guarding a leashed little puppy.”

You giggle, sweet and endeared. “Good. That’s the way I like him.” You lick your lips. “Make sure he doesn’t bare his ass on Instagram.”

“So you’re falling for his little thirst traps?” Bum’s laugh booms in the room and Namjoon wacks him on the head, worried about the neighbours. Also, he doesn’t like admitting that when he posts, he’s thinking about the way you would react when seeing him. 

“You know how I am, Bum. I’m always falling for him,” you confess, cheesy and utterly honest at the same time.

Namjoon smiles like the cat who got the cream. “That’s sweet, babygirl. The guys are leaving now. Bye guys,” he says quickly, finally kicking them out. 

You try to say bye in return, but you hear the door close and Namjoon is immediately all over you. “Always falling for me, huh?” He heads back towards the sofa. “That’s new.”

“That’s actually so, so old.” You roll your eyes but smile through it anyways. 

“You’re my only sneaky link, Vixen. Still got your claw marks all over my back, by the way. Lovely touch.”

“Gotta mark my territory,” you state matter-of-factly.

“Wanna switch this over to a video call?” he suggests, already undoing the first button of his shirt.

“Just so I can be reminded I’m not over there fucking you right?” You snort bitterly. “No way.”

“We could make this our own personal porno,” he suggests, grateful that his trousers are baggy enough to give him extra space around the crotch. “Just a little visual aid.”

“You’re telling me you don’t remember how I rode you last time?” You undo the little bow at the waistband of your pyjama pants, your fingertips tiptoeing around the elastic of your panties. 

“Let’s say I wouldn’t mind having a bit more than a memory to hold on to.” As if telepathically connected, he’s also undoing the button and zip of his denim cargos. 

“Fair. You usually hold on to my hips while I fuck you.”

He hisses, head thrown back. “And you hold on to my throat when I’ve been an exceptionally good boy.” 

A shiver screeches down your torso, then spreads through your midriff and settles somewhere at the small of your back, as if recalling the phantom touch of his hand, of his thumbs imprinting themselves in the twin dimples at the base of your spine. He likes resting his fingers there when he’s taking you from behind. It’s like the little dips were designed for his digits to rest there. 

“You’re such a lucky little fucker,” you tease him and he one-ups you, 

“I fucking am, but last time I checked you usually sort of profit from it.” 

Your sultry laugh is his favourite form of payment — right now he’s richer than he’s ever been. 

“Are your hands free, love?”

You let him hang there for a couple long seconds, your breathing heavy. “They’d be freer if you were here,” you tell him. “Maybe not.”

“They’d be all over me, and you know it, little fox.” He purrs as his hand finds a good spot. He’s not yet actually touching himself, but he’s definitely teasing. “Got on a fucking plane for those hands.”

“You flew for twelve hours for these hands.”

“And for that ass,” he adds, quick-witted. 

Your laugh is more of a snort. “And that too.”

His zipper is undone, he dips his hand under the waistband of his briefs, shifting it downwards. “For that smart mouth of yours,” he whispers. “Just to kiss it for a bunch of hours.”

“It was very grateful,” you remind him, trying to bluff the fact that your middle finger is now circling your clitoris. 

“I remember that.” His heartbeat is starting to accelerate. “I had to stop it from being a little bit too grateful.” He remembers the silky feeling of your hair in between his fingers, the tension in your hand on his thigh as you tried to take more of him. “My birthday girl,” he hums. “And yet, I was the lucky bastard who got presents.” The sight of you in that powder pink corset, with the delicate ruffles, and the feather trims tracing the top of your breasts, palpitating with every single excited breath you took. 

It had been like seeing a map of your arousal, goosebumps rising on any inch of skin he had dared lay his eyes on. 

“You were so responsive,” he whispered. “You were so fucking wet.”

“You teased me for almost an hour,” you object.

“I’ll have to make it two hours next time then.” He’s throbbing in his own palm, circling his tip, hissing when he hits a too-sensitive spot. “Maybe with the tickler still.”

“It was delightful, I will admit that.” You’re leaning on your hand now, cupped between your thighs. “Wish your face was between my legs.”

“Wish you were sitting on it, baby.” He bites his lip, as if he could recall the feel, the taste of you on his mouth. “Can’t believe it’s been two weeks already.”

“I can’t wait to be home,” you moan.

He can tell you’re touching yourself, from your ragged breathing, and from the way your voice has become more vulnerable, and more impatient too. “I’ll make sure to clear my schedule when you do. We can do that ‘seven days a week’ type of shit.”

You moan and he laughs to himself. 

“Are you gonna come for me, my love?” he asks fondly, his voice like a dark caress. “Are you thinking about my mouth fucking you? About my tongue stroking you, feeling how wet and warm and sweet you are?”

“Joon, please,” you beg, a desperate little laugh.

“No need to beg, babygirl. You can have everything you want when you’re with me,” he continues, with his calm, direct voice. “You can take it, love. You can have me deep inside you, and you can suck on my fingers if you’re struggling to keep your voice down.” He’s quickened his own pace, trying to climb as fast as you do. “Or you can be loud, and tell the neighbours who’s making you feel this good.”

“When I get home I want you to mess me up for days. You’re gonna mark me, and make love to me and fuck me and feed me. You’re gonna cuddle me to sleep, then wake me up with your hand between my legs.”

You’re holding your breath as you speak, your high approaching like an incumbent, massive wave. 

“I promise, love.”

“Are you coming too?” you ask, and he hums simply. 

“I’m close.”

“I want you to fuck me while I sit on your lap.”

“On the sofa?”

“On the sofa, on the floor, in bed, I don’t care.” You gasp, then chuckle as you hit an indecently good angle with your fingers. “I want to hold you as we make love.”

“You will, baby.”

“I wanna whisper in your ear that you’re my one and only. That you’re the only one in the whole world who can get me this good.” 

He loves when you get emotional during sex. He loves when you start to ramble and you tell him all those things you usually keep to yourself. “I can’t wait either. I miss you in bed. I miss you at every meal, I miss going to our galleries. I miss every fucking thing.” He’s getting desperate. “And most of all, I miss those eyes on me.”

“I’m coming,” you gasp, out of the blue, the idea of sitting on his lap, naked, making love to him, your mouth clamped around the crook of his shoulder to keep quiet, his hands tracing your back, his eyes looking for yours, for confirmation, for loyalty, for reassurance, for companionship. 

“That’s my darling.” He can let go now, and he fucks his hand with intention, with neat powerful jerks. He helps himself with strong thrusts of his pelvis, and precise tugs of his hand too. He grunts when he hears your sweet whimpers on your side of the call, and finally he follows you into pleasure, with the image of your head thrown back, your plump lips agape, your hair tumbling wild behind you as you bounce on him. 

He can almost feel the aftertaste of your perspiration on the tip of his tongue. 

“Wow,” you say as soon as you manage to recollect yourself. 

He’s still sort of numb, his orgasm spilled on his stomach and happy trail. Just a glimpse down and he’s already envisioned the phantom of you studying his semen, lowering yourself to his navel and tracing it with your digit, only to bring it to your mouth to have a taste. He clicks his tongue in disappointment. 

“Damn, I wanna cuddle the fuck out of you and you’re too far away.” He reaches for a tissue to clean himself quickly. “I guess that’s why we don’t do this more often. I miss the aftercare.” He pulls himself back in his briefs, then blocks his phone between his shoulder and ear and stands to get rid of the tissue. “How are you feeling, love?”

“Hunting for chocolate.”

“Oh, baby…” He giggles, endeared. “Should I order something for you?”

“No… it’s okay.” You’re a little bit sad, but you try your best not to let it show.”

“Not even those glass beads you’d seen on our favourite website?”

You widen your eyes. “Let’s not make say things we don’t mean now...”

Namjoon laughs fondly. “Thought so.” He waits a little. “We can just talk, by the way. Or you can go grab a toy and we can keep going with this. We could discuss in great details what you intend to do to me once you’re back.”

“We could do that. Or we could video call and you could watch me hump this little thing you got me.”

He grins. “Then let me get comfy. We’ve got quite the night coming up.”

You smile. “We do.”

He hesitates. “We don’t have to, you know? If you don’t want to video call. I’m okay with just hearing you.”

You pause. Your love for him multiplies exponentially in your chest. “Sure we don’t have to. But I want to.”

Namjoon smiles. “Okay.”

“Get comfy, lucky boy,” you tease him.

“I’ll be right there.”

It’s almost six in the morning when you fall asleep. He’s propped the phone right beside him on the pillow and though he’s found himself dropping it a couple times, he’s refused to let go until he was sure you were asleep. 

Now he closes the video call and locks his phone, putting it back on the nightstand. He pulls your pillow close, hugging it to his chest, then throws a leg on top of it. He places another pillow in between his legs, where your thighs would normally tangle with his. 

He breathes in the vague scent of you left on the bed — not much since the sheets have been changed and he can only smell the laundry scent you normally use, of sandalwood and cedar, warm and spicy. 

Twenty-three days. 

He can handle it. 

He falls asleep with the memory of your body like ivy against his own. Even this far apart, he is and will always be covered in you.

#dita is here! #icymi <3 #namjoon x vixen #namjoon smut

[oftenderweapons]

Off topic—

I don't know of any of you all have read the Throne of Glass series but,,,,,

(potential spoiler below cut)

Does any of you all ever imagine a foursome with Manorian and Elorcan????

Just me????

I think I'm sick in the head??? Methinks????

#dita is here! #Dita reads books #Dita's intrusive thoughts #elorcan #manorian

[oftenderweapons]

London Calling | KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon x Vixen

Wordcount: 3.1k

Genre: Fluff, smut, pwp, established relationship!AU, idol!Au, Married!AU

Rating: 18+; minors, please do not interact

Synopsis: Vixen has decided to distract herself from Namjoon's incumbent enlistment by focusing on her job. She has accepted adding more international works to her portfolio and is currently in London; too bad Namjoon can't help but post risqué pictures on his Instagram, and it really seems he's doing so to try and get her attention.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Swearing, Fear of infidelity, Nostalgia. Extremely mild DDLG dynamics, Babygirl!Vixen, Brat!Vixen, Phone sex, Masturbation, Dirty talking. Mentions of: Oral sex (both male and female receiving), Lingerie kink, Sex toys, Spanking. Oh, and one of Joon's friends simps for Vixen.

As usual, you can find my masterlist right here! I wouldn't mind if you took a few seconds to leave a comment or reblog my fic 🥰 Also, my requests are always open!!!

Enjoy 💜✨

“Been hearing someone’s on their worst behaviour.”

Namjoon’s chuckle on the opposite end of the line is everything you need to know. “What can I say, my last moral anchor is busy girlbossing around the world.” He licks his lips and sits down on the sofa, his friends messing around his kitchen, beers and liquors spread around your marble counter. “I’m missing my lucky star.”

“Your guardian angel.”

“My only angel,” he flirts. 

The game is back on between you and Namjoon. Ever since you decided to stop waiting around for his enlistment and have started accepting international projects on your portfolio, it’s like no matter where either of you are, it’s always time to flirt on the phone. 

Or mess around even more. 

He’s touched down in London for you about two weeks ago, showing up at your hotel room with an Agent Provocateur bag dangling from his pretty fingers and the kind of smile that always gets you shimmying out of your panties. 

“What are you up to, love? What time is it over there?”

“Uh-huh. I’m the one doing the asking here, mister.” 

He puts his glass back on the coffee table, and leans over with his elbows on his knees. “I’m just trying to feed my imagination, little fox. What’s a boy to do, with an empty bed and a sexy wife on the other side of the world?”

“I don’t know, maybe be more careful before talking talks he can’t walk?” you suggest. 

He lowers his voice before saying, “You’d be over my knee right now, you know?”

You decide to talk back, just to mess him up further. Your voice is like midnight fog when you tell him, “you’d have to catch me first.”

He steals a glance towards the kitchen. This feels an awful lot like when the two of you began hanging out — the secrecy, the craving, the distance, and the pining. Except this time you have rings on your hands and there’s no doubting loyalty, not on his nor your behalf. 

He toys with his own ring, tracing it with his thumb, twisting it a little to the left, then to the right, back and forth. 

“It seems you appreciated that quick leak…” 

You click your tongue. “One of these days you’re gonna end up naked in those pics and I’ll have to come home to do damage control.”

“Is that all it takes to have you back home? I miss my territorial little vixen.” He stares at your stash of books in the bookshelf, standing tall right next to his, but looking twice more put together. 

“I’ve noticed you’ve been acting sluttier lately.”

“At least I haven’t gone entirely shirtless yet.” He picks up the glass again and you hear him swallowing through the line. “Unlike some of my friends. You should consider yourself lucky.”

“Lucky, you say?” 

He hears the sound of a glass being put down. “Are you drinking, babygirl?”

You cock an eyebrow and stare at your glass of red wine. “I’m dined and wined. You know which bit is missing. But it seems you’re not that deserving.”

“What did you eat?” He doesn’t grant you the courtesy of winning this sensual verbal sparring. That tiny comment about being dined and wined was a trap, he can tell. Looking so casual and half-hearted can only mean you expected him to go there, and if he does, he’ll probably end up right where you wanted him. 

He can do better. 

“I had a steak. With a lovely truffle cream. I’ll have to make it for you next time you’re around.” Your reply comes off beat, and he smiles, happy that he caught you off guard. 

If this were a match of martial arts, you’d be dwindling a little, your balance compromised. “I’d love to. Miss your tiramisu. Your cheesecake. Your aglio e olio. Your sweet little ass working around the kitchen.”

You laugh, the sound as bright and heartstopping as ever. Blood rushes to his cheeks. He loves making you laugh. “You got the guys over, I assume? Four in the morning?”

“We just finished working. Like maybe an hour ago or so.” He can’t keep calm anymore. Everytime you call him when he’s home, his gaze keeps wandering to every piece of it that belongs to you. 

Sometimes it’s suffocating. Sometimes he sleeps back at the studio. Sometimes he stays over at other people’s places. 

Now it’s the portrait of your orchids that you had commissioned for him. It sits next to his bonsais, so he can think of your collection each time he’s watering his own. 

Sometimes he wonders who is whose subtext, because at times he thinks you’re the one who picked up habits from him, other times he thinks it’s him who accidentally got into certain hobbies through the years so he could be your exact shadow once the two of you finally met and aligned. 

“Also, you’re calling at four in the morning,” he observes. “Oh…” He rubs the back of his head, then plops back on the sofa, as if he were deflating slowly. “Right. I’m your booty call.” He chuckles. “Almost forgot.”

“I can find someone else in a more suitable time zone, if that sits well with you,” you reply, your tone just a tiny bit annoyed. His nonchalance irks you just a little. 

“That your sneaky link, man?” you hear someone holler on his side. 

“So now I’m miss sneaky link, huh? Not bad, mister booty call.” You click your tongue. “I’ll leave you to your friends. I thought you were alone, didn’t mean to disturb.” This could be your chance to win this match. 

“No, don’t go because they’re about to. Kind of right now,” he says, looking towards the kitchen and nodding towards the door. “Sorry guys. Vixen’s rule.”

“He don’t deserve you, honey,” one of his friends calls. “Just one chance, miss. Kindly.”

“We’re literally married,” he tells the guy, then to you, “Bum says hi.”

“Oh, hi sweetie. What are your thoughts on the London timezone?” you ask, coquettishly.

“Careful, fox.” Namjoon’s voice is stern when it comes on. It makes you sit taller on your seat, redirecting the pressure in between your thighs. “And you’d better not reply, Bum.”

The guy stares at Namjoon as he says. “For you, anything, my queen. Though, from personal experience, it’s excellent for your late nights and our early mornings. If you know you know,” Bum suggests. 

Namjoon slaps the guy’s back with the most sarcastic smile on his face. “Time to go, dude.” 

“Starcrossed lovers, that’s our fate, my queen.”

You laugh loudly and Namjoon is a little annoyed. “All the great loves are those that never happened, Bum.”

“Guys, I’m literally right here!?” Namjoon says, embarrassed and just a tad annoyed. “You, get out of my house. And stop trying to seduce my wife.”

“Bum, can you keep an eye on him? Kinda worried I might not be the only sneaky link of his.” You joke about it, but deep down, there’s always a sliver of worry in it. You wouldn’t be surprised if some of his friends were encouraging him to be unloyal to you just because you decided to push forward with your career. 

“He’s too busy panting for you to even begin thinking about someone else.” Bum’s putting on his shoes by the door, hushered by Namjoon. His three other friends are similarly getting dressed, laughing at the exchange. 

“Literally, Vixen—”

Namjoon looks like he’s baring his teeth at Bum using his nickname for you. 

“He’s whipped. We keep him in check, but it’s like guarding a leashed little puppy.”

You giggle, sweet and endeared. “Good. That’s the way I like him.” You lick your lips. “Make sure he doesn’t bare his ass on Instagram.”

“So you’re falling for his little thirst traps?” Bum’s laugh booms in the room and Namjoon wacks him on the head, worried about the neighbours. Also, he doesn’t like admitting that when he posts, he’s thinking about the way you would react when seeing him. 

“You know how I am, Bum. I’m always falling for him,” you confess, cheesy and utterly honest at the same time.

Namjoon smiles like the cat who got the cream. “That’s sweet, babygirl. The guys are leaving now. Bye guys,” he says quickly, finally kicking them out. 

You try to say bye in return, but you hear the door close and Namjoon is immediately all over you. “Always falling for me, huh?” He heads back towards the sofa. “That’s new.”

“That’s actually so, so old.” You roll your eyes but smile through it anyways. 

“You’re my only sneaky link, Vixen. Still got your claw marks all over my back, by the way. Lovely touch.”

“Gotta mark my territory,” you state matter-of-factly.

“Wanna switch this over to a video call?” he suggests, already undoing the first button of his shirt.

“Just so I can be reminded I’m not over there fucking you right?” You snort bitterly. “No way.”

“We could make this our own personal porno,” he suggests, grateful that his trousers are baggy enough to give him extra space around the crotch. “Just a little visual aid.”

“You’re telling me you don’t remember how I rode you last time?” You undo the little bow at the waistband of your pyjama pants, your fingertips tiptoeing around the elastic of your panties. 

“Let’s say I wouldn’t mind having a bit more than a memory to hold on to.” As if telepathically connected, he’s also undoing the button and zip of his denim cargos. 

“Fair. You usually hold on to my hips while I fuck you.”

He hisses, head thrown back. “And you hold on to my throat when I’ve been an exceptionally good boy.” 

A shiver screeches down your torso, then spreads through your midriff and settles somewhere at the small of your back, as if recalling the phantom touch of his hand, of his thumbs imprinting themselves in the twin dimples at the base of your spine. He likes resting his fingers there when he’s taking you from behind. It’s like the little dips were designed for his digits to rest there. 

“You’re such a lucky little fucker,” you tease him and he one-ups you, 

“I fucking am, but last time I checked you usually sort of profit from it.” 

Your sultry laugh is his favourite form of payment — right now he’s richer than he’s ever been. 

“Are your hands free, love?”

You let him hang there for a couple long seconds, your breathing heavy. “They’d be freer if you were here,” you tell him. “Maybe not.”

“They’d be all over me, and you know it, little fox.” He purrs as his hand finds a good spot. He’s not yet actually touching himself, but he’s definitely teasing. “Got on a fucking plane for those hands.”

“You flew for twelve hours for these hands.”

“And for that ass,” he adds, quick-witted. 

Your laugh is more of a snort. “And that too.”

His zipper is undone, he dips his hand under the waistband of his briefs, shifting it downwards. “For that smart mouth of yours,” he whispers. “Just to kiss it for a bunch of hours.”

“It was very grateful,” you remind him, trying to bluff the fact that your middle finger is now circling your clitoris. 

“I remember that.” His heartbeat is starting to accelerate. “I had to stop it from being a little bit too grateful.” He remembers the silky feeling of your hair in between his fingers, the tension in your hand on his thigh as you tried to take more of him. “My birthday girl,” he hums. “And yet, I was the lucky bastard who got presents.” The sight of you in that powder pink corset, with the delicate ruffles, and the feather trims tracing the top of your breasts, palpitating with every single excited breath you took. 

It had been like seeing a map of your arousal, goosebumps rising on any inch of skin he had dared lay his eyes on. 

“You were so responsive,” he whispered. “You were so fucking wet.”

“You teased me for almost an hour,” you object.

“I’ll have to make it two hours next time then.” He’s throbbing in his own palm, circling his tip, hissing when he hits a too-sensitive spot. “Maybe with the tickler still.”

“It was delightful, I will admit that.” You’re leaning on your hand now, cupped between your thighs. “Wish your face was between my legs.”

“Wish you were sitting on it, baby.” He bites his lip, as if he could recall the feel, the taste of you on his mouth. “Can’t believe it’s been two weeks already.”

“I can’t wait to be home,” you moan.

He can tell you’re touching yourself, from your ragged breathing, and from the way your voice has become more vulnerable, and more impatient too. “I’ll make sure to clear my schedule when you do. We can do that ‘seven days a week’ type of shit.”

You moan and he laughs to himself. 

“Are you gonna come for me, my love?” he asks fondly, his voice like a dark caress. “Are you thinking about my mouth fucking you? About my tongue stroking you, feeling how wet and warm and sweet you are?”

“Joon, please,” you beg, a desperate little laugh.

“No need to beg, babygirl. You can have everything you want when you’re with me,” he continues, with his calm, direct voice. “You can take it, love. You can have me deep inside you, and you can suck on my fingers if you’re struggling to keep your voice down.” He’s quickened his own pace, trying to climb as fast as you do. “Or you can be loud, and tell the neighbours who’s making you feel this good.”

“When I get home I want you to mess me up for days. You’re gonna mark me, and make love to me and fuck me and feed me. You’re gonna cuddle me to sleep, then wake me up with your hand between my legs.”

You’re holding your breath as you speak, your high approaching like an incumbent, massive wave. 

“I promise, love.”

“Are you coming too?” you ask, and he hums simply. 

“I’m close.”

“I want you to fuck me while I sit on your lap.”

“On the sofa?”

“On the sofa, on the floor, in bed, I don’t care.” You gasp, then chuckle as you hit an indecently good angle with your fingers. “I want to hold you as we make love.”

“You will, baby.”

“I wanna whisper in your ear that you’re my one and only. That you’re the only one in the whole world who can get me this good.” 

He loves when you get emotional during sex. He loves when you start to ramble and you tell him all those things you usually keep to yourself. “I can’t wait either. I miss you in bed. I miss you at every meal, I miss going to our galleries. I miss every fucking thing.” He’s getting desperate. “And most of all, I miss those eyes on me.”

“I’m coming,” you gasp, out of the blue, the idea of sitting on his lap, naked, making love to him, your mouth clamped around the crook of his shoulder to keep quiet, his hands tracing your back, his eyes looking for yours, for confirmation, for loyalty, for reassurance, for companionship. 

“That’s my darling.” He can let go now, and he fucks his hand with intention, with neat powerful jerks. He helps himself with strong thrusts of his pelvis, and precise tugs of his hand too. He grunts when he hears your sweet whimpers on your side of the call, and finally he follows you into pleasure, with the image of your head thrown back, your plump lips agape, your hair tumbling wild behind you as you bounce on him. 

He can almost feel the aftertaste of your perspiration on the tip of his tongue. 

“Wow,” you say as soon as you manage to recollect yourself. 

He’s still sort of numb, his orgasm spilled on his stomach and happy trail. Just a glimpse down and he’s already envisioned the phantom of you studying his semen, lowering yourself to his navel and tracing it with your digit, only to bring it to your mouth to have a taste. He clicks his tongue in disappointment. 

“Damn, I wanna cuddle the fuck out of you and you’re too far away.” He reaches for a tissue to clean himself quickly. “I guess that’s why we don’t do this more often. I miss the aftercare.” He pulls himself back in his briefs, then blocks his phone between his shoulder and ear and stands to get rid of the tissue. “How are you feeling, love?”

“Hunting for chocolate.”

“Oh, baby…” He giggles, endeared. “Should I order something for you?”

“No… it’s okay.” You’re a little bit sad, but you try your best not to let it show.”

“Not even those glass beads you’d seen on our favourite website?”

You widen your eyes. “Let’s not make say things we don’t mean now...”

Namjoon laughs fondly. “Thought so.” He waits a little. “We can just talk, by the way. Or you can go grab a toy and we can keep going with this. We could discuss in great details what you intend to do to me once you’re back.”

“We could do that. Or we could video call and you could watch me hump this little thing you got me.”

He grins. “Then let me get comfy. We’ve got quite the night coming up.”

You smile. “We do.”

He hesitates. “We don’t have to, you know? If you don’t want to video call. I’m okay with just hearing you.”

You pause. Your love for him multiplies exponentially in your chest. “Sure we don’t have to. But I want to.”

Namjoon smiles. “Okay.”

“Get comfy, lucky boy,” you tease him.

“I’ll be right there.”

It’s almost six in the morning when you fall asleep. He’s propped the phone right beside him on the pillow and though he’s found himself dropping it a couple times, he’s refused to let go until he was sure you were asleep. 

Now he closes the video call and locks his phone, putting it back on the nightstand. He pulls your pillow close, hugging it to his chest, then throws a leg on top of it. He places another pillow in between his legs, where your thighs would normally tangle with his. 

He breathes in the vague scent of you left on the bed — not much since the sheets have been changed and he can only smell the laundry scent you normally use, of sandalwood and cedar, warm and spicy. 

Twenty-three days. 

He can handle it. 

He falls asleep with the memory of your body like ivy against his own. Even this far apart, he is and will always be covered in you.

#kim namjoon #namjoon scenario #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x yn #namjoon fanfiction #bts fanfiction #52 hertz #btswritersclub #bangtansorciere #houseofddaeng #namjoon x vixen #kim namjoon married au #namjoon imagine #namjoon idol au #bts blog

[oftenderweapons]

I miss little vixen and joonie:(

I missed them too, and I've got something for ya nonnie 💖💖💖

Are you up?

It's coming out in 1 hour,, 👀😉✨✨✨

#dita is here! #namjoon x reader #ask:anon #dita the tease

[oftenderweapons]

Okay, I've set up an update for tomorrow YAYYYY

And it's a request I got a while ago, and I was feeling something, so I wrote, it's been ready for a while but I've been really demotivated from posting here on Tumblr because my blog has been going through some major visibility issues, which really blocks the stories from reaching their public.

I'm still fighting to continue the stories I wrote a long time ago, and still love as if they were a limb of mine. But it's tough. It's. Been tough for a while, and now ever more so.

Wish me luck ✨

And I love you 💖💖💖

#dita is here! #Dita's untimely updates

[oftenderweapons]

Yeah you're a simp but we love the concept of badass queens going soft for their golden retriever dudes ✌️✨

Haven’t seen my boyfriend in two days and I miss him. This is digusting behaviour on my end methinks smh

#lovely moots 💕 #Mars simping

[oftenderweapons]

On the very edge of pulling a When I Kissed the Teacher

#dita is here! #Dita is not drunk but really wishing she were