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#namjoon angst
jamaisjoons · 9 days ago
forever bound I ⤑ knj | m.
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⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 the last thing you expect to discover on your fourth anniversary is your fiance's infidelity. the last thing you expect to do on your fourth anniversary is fuck a handsome stranger in the middle of a bar. 〞infidelity au. rich kids au. bdsm au. secret affair au. strangers 2 lovers au. arranged marriage au.
❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: namjoon x reader
❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ∝ fluff ∝ smut
❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 21k
⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: accidental voyeurism, cheating, mentions/minor depictions of alcohol consumption, mentions of alcohol, infidelity, heavy bdsm themes, sir kink, power dynamics, dom!namjoon, sub!reader, first-time submission, big cock!namjoon, praise, degradation, panty-sniffing, public sex, exhibitionism, teasing, marking, biting, dirty talk, fingering, spanking, mentions of sexual punishment, masochism, cheating sex... obviously, corruption kink, humiliation, orgasm control, edging, orgasm denial, crying, begging, finger sucking, cum tasting, bruising, light choking, thigh riding, nipple/breast play, slight nipple torture, wet and messy, ruined orgasm, unprotected sex, grinding, once again namjoon is h u g e; hung like a horse; absolutely monstrous, deep dicking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, rough n hard sex amen, voyeurism, squirting, creampie, minor cumplay, panty-stealing,
➵ 𝑎/𝑛: this was supposed to go up for my birthday on monday but I couldn’t finish it in time 😭 so have it NOW! happy solvember!!!
⏤ thank you to my loves @yeoldontknow and @amourtae for letting me yell at this fic to them but also helping me on some plot points, and ofc, also beta reading for me! and thank you to @ressjeon​, @chemicalpink, @sunshinejunghoseokie, and @nightshadevinter for beta reading as well!! 💖
⇥ find the playlist here
⇥ series masterlist | next
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One unassuming evening, you step into Nagwon Gallery. The building is completely deserted, the exhibits having closed to the public two hours ago. Even the gallery's staff had long since returned home, with only the security guards still loitering, ensuring that the art was safe. Darkened showrooms greet you, large shadows looming in inky corners contrasted only by dimly lit spotlights that shine upon the art, while intermittent wall washers illuminate the pathway throughout the museum. Within the adumbral chambers, the gold frames of the artwork are emphasised, drawing attention to the paintings displayed against the deep russet walls whilst highlighting their elegance.
Nonetheless, you're not here to appreciate the beauty of the artwork. No, you're here for one reason and one reason only.
Minhyuk          Sorry babe. A client rescheduled last minute and wants to meet now. I won't be able to make it in time for the reservation.
Staring down at the text from your fiancé of four years now, your eyebrows knit together. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't think twice about the message - Minhyuk tended to work late most nights. As the Gallery Manager, Minhyuk was mostly in charge of working closely with a range of different clientele: the artists who wish for their work to be displayed in the showrooms, other gallery managers looking to exchange art, or even private clients who want to procure art from your gallery. It was a fairly important job, and as such, between meetings, calls and general daily duties, late nights were a common occurrence for him.
Of course, as the gallery's Art Director, your responsibilities were far more important, namely establishing the artistic policies, planning the events that would occur, as well as managing the day to day activities. Nevertheless, considering you occupied the highest possible position within the gallery—the museum having been handed over to you by your parents, the owners—and how efficient you were at your job, it meant that, unlike your fiancé, it was rare for you to need to stay past the hours you had to work. Naturally, that wasn't to say that you never had to work overtime. After all, in the days before a huge event, there were often times when you would lose sleep in order to make sure all the plans were proceeding smoothly. However, it just wasn't as often as Minhyuk.
Nonetheless, today isn't just any ordinary day. For one, it's a Friday night, and it was rare enough for anyone to want to work late on a Friday, particularly the clients that Minhyuk dealt with. The second reason for your perturbation was that it isn't just any Friday, it's Friday the sixth of June—your anniversary—and as such, it didn't feel right for him to work overtime. Surely, if his client had rescheduled at the last minute, he'd be able to decline and offer a more reasonable time to meet. Thus, you'd decided to head to the gallery yourself and pull him away from work.
Which brings you to where you are now.
As you walk through the showroom and towards the backroom, the watchmen greet you politely, their heads bowing in respect before gracing you with a cordial smile. Other than that, however, they ignore your presence, allowing you to head into the back of the building. Within minutes, you find yourself in the empty corridor that leads to the area that hosts the offices and walking down the aisle, you head towards Minhyuk's. However, as you approach the door that leads to his office, your stomach begins to roil, an uncanny sense of foreboding settling deep within the pit of your stomach.
The building is quiet, almost to dead silence, the stillness broken only by the sound of your stilettos clicking against the hardwood flooring. Muted sounds of a conversation filter through the air, though, given that your fiancé is supposedly in the middle of a meeting with a client, you had expected the hushed murmurs. However, what you don't expect is the intermittent moaning that spills through the door - more jarring than the harsh clacking of your heels within the night’s lull. The sensual noises cause the muscles of your throat to tighten, and coming to a stop just before the entrance to his office, you chew at the flesh of your inner cheeks.
You'd met Minhyuk four and a half years ago, while you were both studying at Yonsei University. Originally, he'd just been another nameless student in your Art History class and the two of you only knew each other in passing. Nonetheless, when your parents, two of the most famous art dealers in Korea, learnt about his presence in your class, they'd introduced the two of you. Apparently, Minhyuk's father was a famous artist, and your parents, as well as Minhyuk's parents, knew each other very well through the art industry. As such, they'd pushed you two together, thinking you'd be a good match for one another. Thus, when Minhyuk had inevitably asked you out on a date, you'd agreed, wanting nothing more than to please your parents.
From then on, you and Minhyuk started seeing each other, and generally, it was a pretty good relationship. However, there was no real love, or passion, within your relationship. Sure, you were happy; Minhyuk had been a perfect gentleman - a textbook example of what a boyfriend should be: walking you to and from your classes, spending nights with you in the library when you had assignments due, buying you coffee, lunch, dinner, and anything else you could want. But that did not necessarily mean that you loved each other. More than anything, you both knew that your relationship was one built out of obligation. You both behaved the way you were obligated to, based on your parents' expectations of you both, and while you weren't in love with him, you loved him out of this obligation - because you'd spent four years with him. Because that was what was expected of you.
Therefore, when you'd decided to come down to the gallery, to get him to spend your fourth anniversary together, you'd done it out of necessity. You may not love each other, and you may not have something to truly celebrate, but that didn't mean that you couldn't have dinner together. However, now, as you stand adjacent to the door that leads to his office, the sounds of breathy moans and low groans only growing louder, you can't help but feel your heart begin to pound.
You don't love each other.
You know this. Minhyuk knows this.
But that didn't mean that you had an unhappy relationship.
And that shouldn't mean that Minhyuk would cheat on you.
Within the confines of your chest, your heart pounds, and unmoving, you stare at the wood grain etched into the surface in front of you. Your mind races a mile a minute, yet, at the same time, it's completely blank - unable to form a single, coherent thought. The door is slightly ajar, the light from the room spilling through the sliver, and allowing you the smallest glimpse in. With trembling, clammy hands, you reach for the doorknob, pushing it softly enough to open it some more. As you peek into his office, you freeze - your blood turning cold as the colour drains from your face.
The first thing that comes into view is your fiancé. Your close to naked fiancé.
Dressed in nothing but his boxers, he kneels on the floor, in between the legs of a woman you can't make out. Unlike Minhyuk, the woman is fully covered, though, her clothes are dishevelled, her skirt pushed up past her hips, and her blouse unbuttoned to display her breasts. Rooted to the spot, you watch as your fiancé of four years peppers kisses along the woman's thighs, his lips gradually getting higher and higher. The woman under him lets out a slew of soughed moans, one of her hands carding into Minhyuk's hair, while the other lazily plays with her nipple. When Minhyuk's mouth presses against the apex of her thighs, you watch as he pushes the gusset of her panties to the side, before his head dips forward. At the same time, the woman's head falls back, a louder, deeper moan spilling from her throat.
"Well, well. Aren't you a naughty boy? Abandoning your fiancée on your fourth anniversary to eat me out instead," the woman taunts, a wicked smirk on her lips. Minhyuk simply shrugs.
"We don't love each other. I'm only with her because it's what my parents want," he responds. Then, after flicking his tongue across her folds for a second time, "And because once we get married, half of what's hers becomes mine." A loud laugh resonates through the air.
"There's no love between us either," she retorts, amusement laced in her purposely sultry voice.
"No. But at least the sex is better," Minhyuk answers. With his back to you, you can't see his face. Nonetheless, you've spent four years with him, and you'd like to think that you know him - though, with your discovery tonight, you're not sure how much. Still, four years is by no means a short amount of time, and you know him well enough to hear the playful smirk in his voice.
"Aha. Very clever," she purrs.
"Is that why you like me so much?" Minhyuk teases. The woman only snorts.
"I'd like you more if you make me cum," she counters, her hands gripping his hair as she tugs him further into her pussy. At her behest, Minhyuk wastes no time, and soon, keening moans fill the air.
Their conversation causes your rigid body to go numb, a dull heaviness making its home within your chest. For a moment, you consider storming in and confronting the two of them. However, you can't bring yourself to do it - deadened by your discovery. You continue watching them silently, the weightiness inside your chest growing heavier and heavier, until it consumes you, making it hard to breathe. Then, unable to take anymore, you turn on your heel and walk away.
Half an hour later, you find yourself in the middle of a bar. You have no idea what possessed you to do so. Originally, you had meant to return home to the safety of your apartment. Not wanting to be alone in the empty luxury of your flat, however, you had instead hailed a taxi and headed into the heart of Gangnam. Unsure of where to go, for a short while, you'd listlessly wandered around the bustling streets, allowing your feet to mindlessly carry you in whichever direction they chose. Until you'd finally happened upon the small, upscale looking establishment, and realising that you more than needed a drink, you'd immediately entered.
Now, perched on the edge of your barstool, you slouch against the countertop, your back bent forward as you ponderously swirl your bellini.
Rustic light bulbs hang from black metal beams above you, the lanterns radiant with a soft, lutescent glow that spills over the bar. Their luminescence bounces off of the surfaces of the countless bottles of alcohol and numerous glasses that line the wooden shelves and cause them to scintillate under the lambency as though made of priceless crystals. Long tubes of neon-saffron lights are beset within the walls, the deeper, honey fluorescence contrasting against the flavescent ambient lighting, the two hues coalescing into a delicate display of warmth. Baritone, yet mellow, notes of instrumental jazz resonate through the air, the euphonic melodies harmonising with the idle murmuration of the bar's patrons to produce a concordant milieu.
Lifting your glass, you swig at your drink, and as the astringency of the champagne follows the sweetness of the peach juice, you relish in the flavours. The acetic tartness of your drink matches the incisive bitterness of your mood, both a stark juxtaposition to the comforting, pleasant ambience that surrounds you. With each sip of your drink, the numbness that had consumed slowly fades, and instead, a new sense of clarity fills you.
The more you think about it, the more you know why Minhyuk is cheating on you.
From the age of twenty, the two of you had practically been forced together by your parents, both sides wanting to form a partnership through your relationship. Even your engagement had been arranged between your parents, your mothers approaching the two of you to gently question (read: subtly urge) when the two of you would finally formalise your relationship—as though the two of you dating hadn't been official enough—and a couple of days after that, Minhyuk had proposed to you. Without hesitation, you'd said yes. Even if you weren't completely sure that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him; even if the thought of marrying Minhyuk had your stomach turning, in an uneasy, apprehensive way, you had still said yes. Of course you had. You had to. Because that was what was expected off of you.
Your parents loved and cared for you. Of this, you had no doubt. Yet, at the same time, as two of the most prominent figures in the art community, they had certain expectations for you: how you held yourself in public, which prestigious university you went to and the grades they expected you to achieve, what sort of friends you made and how they comported themselves. The expectations your parents had were vast, and numerous, and out of those many, many expectations, one was that you would marry Minhyuk. Even if you didn’t necessarily love him.
Be that as it may, the lack of love in your relationship did not mean you could excuse Minhyuk's behaviour. Sure, you could see where it stemmed from—why would he, or anyone, remain faithful to someone they were essentially forced to be with?—and you could even somewhat rationalise it—being bound to someone who only wanted to fulfil their parents' expectations could be both exhausting and overwhelming. But that did not mean you could accept, or forgive it. After all, it wasn't like he was the only one stuck in this relationship. You were equally a part of it, and similar to him, you'd also been pushed into it at the behest of your parents. You'd spent four years with the man, and though they were obligatory, not once had you been unfaithful; the thought hadn't even come to mind.
Hell, if anything, you'd tried to make it work.
In the weeks after Minhyuk’s proposal, you had truly attempted to fall in love with the man - not wanting to be stuck in a farce of a marriage where the two of you were devotedly affectionate in public but distantly cordial in private. You’d tried increasing the amount of time you spent with each other in order to get to know him better. You’d tried to observe his hobbies, even going out of your way to take an interest in them, with the hopes that you’d be able to form some sort of deeper connection with your fiancé. You’d even tried to sleep with him more often, hoping that somewhere between his stale kisses and your mediocre orgasms, your tepid feelings would ignite into a ravenous inferno. Nonetheless, nothing worked, and eventually, once you had graduated and taken up your respective positions in your parents’ gallery, you’d grown further apart - quickly becoming too busy with your workload.
Whilst silently stewing over the nature of your relationship, and your reasoning for Minhyuk’s infidelity, you catch a movement from the corner of your eye. Through your peripheral vision, you watch as a stranger slides into a space next to you, just one seat down from yours. A deep voice rings through the air, the slight rasp to it drawing your attention away from your drink and towards the stranger. Tilting your head to the side, you subtly peer at him, trying to take a closer look at the man. However, the very moment you set your gaze on him, you suck in a shallow breath.
Casually, leaning against the bar—his right elbow resting against the edge, his chin loosely propped by his right knuckles, and the fingers of his left hand nonchalantly drumming the countertop—he exudes an air of indifferent authority, causing you to shift in your seat as something unfamiliar churns within your abdomen. The subtle waves of dominance that waft off of his being are compounded, and only heightened, by his statuesque frame and Adonis-like handsomeness. Even seated, you can't help but notice his large, toned build; the musculature of his torso made evident by the form-fitting, checkered blazer, while his plain black slacks draw attention to the thickness of his thighs and the length of his legs.
Poignant eyes peer through sharp, almond-shaped lids, their umber irises taking a cursory glance at the alcohol-lined shelves before he places his order. Long, silver tresses—bearing a slight wave—are partially slicked back, displaying an undercut to the left side of his head, while a few strands fall to frame his forehead. The cool, pearly shade of his hair is contrasted by the warm, golden shade of his skin—his tawny-bronze flesh glowing as though it contained the very light of the sun within its fibres. Encapsulated by the croceate hues of the bar's lighting, the vibrant radiance reflects off of him, drawing out the richness of his features: the amber flecks in his inky eyes, the brass undertones of his flawless complexion, the hoary lustre of his silken locks.
Spellbound by his beauty, you can't help but drink him in.
The strong, dark arches of his eyebrow. The elegant slope of his nose that morphs into a delicate upturn at the tip. The sharp definition of his angular jaw juxtaposed by the soft, supple apples of his cheeks. You take it all in.
And with each feature your eyes rove over, your mind subconsciously—but willingly—carves them into your memory.
You're sure you'll never see a man this inconceivably beautiful ever again.
Despite your furtive glances, however, the man notices your attention, and turning towards you, he graces you with a lop-sided, devilish grin. Instantly, your eyes drop to the sensuous folds of his lips, your throat drying as you notice the small mole just under the full, lower petal. Fleetingly, you wonder what it’d be like to kiss him, whether they’d be warm, and slightly rough. Or whether they’d be cool, and soft.
"See something you like?" he questions. Playful confidence thick in his words, his voice drips like honey, and paired with his natural, baritone timbre, you find your cheeks flushing with heat.
"You're very handsome," you blurt out, your tongue loosened by the alcohol in your system.
The moment the words tumble out of your mouth, you freeze. Slowly, your brain catches up to you, and realising that you've not only been caught ogling the stranger but you've also unwittingly divulged your innermost thoughts to him, your eyes widen. Swiftly, you duck your head in embarrassment, and pulling the inner flesh of your cheek between your teeth, you chew. Immediately, the man's head tilts back before he lets out a chuckle - the deep sound causing your stomach to twist into knots, a warm fuzziness stirring within the pits. From the corner of your eye, you watch him stand up, only to then move into the seat directly beside you.
"You're incredibly beautiful yourself," he returns, his lips twisting into a wolfish grin. "I'm Kim Namjoon," he introduces.
"_____," you softly reply, your heart fluttering at his compliment.
"Can I buy you another drink? What are you having? A bellini of some..." Namjoon questions. Although, as his eyes land on your glass, he pauses. Rather than your champagne flute, however, his gaze falls directly upon your hand, where your engagement ring glints under the saffron lights. "Oh. I'm sorry, I had no idea. I didn't mean to impose," he quickly apologises. The harsh sound of the barstool scraping against the wood floor breaks through the air, and you watch as Namjoon stands up to leave. "I'll leave you alone," he says.
For some reason, his words cause something within you to ache, your chest caving at the thought of him leaving. You know you should let him leave; his seductive charm paired with his heart-wrenchingly good looks making for a dangerously sinful combination; everything single thing about him tempting you to take a bite out of forbidden fruit. Yet, you simply can't - something within you wanting to cling onto the man. Maybe it's the alcohol floating through your bloodstream. Perhaps it's the discovery of your fiancé's infidelity. Though, it's most likely that if Namjoon was to leave, you'd be left on your own once again. And drinking peach bellinis, by yourself, in the middle of a nameless bar in Gangnam, on your anniversary no less, was far too depressing of a notion.
Besides, it's not like you wanted to wallow in self-pity in the first place - your feelings for your fiancé barely existed, and Minhyuk certainly wasn't worth it.
Either way, you find yourself swallowing thickly, and, "Please don't," you quietly call, your mouth moving on impulse. Your words are soft, almost inaudible in the lively ambience of the bar. Nonetheless, Namjoon hears you, and pausing, he turns back to look at you. For a moment, he's hesitant, the uncertainty of whether to stay or go clearly evident in his carob eyes. Thus, in a bid to make up his mind, "I'd really like that drink," you mumble, smiling at him timidly. Namjoon cocks an eyebrow.
Turning back to the bartender, "Can I have another of whatever the lady is having," he orders, before taking the seat next to you once again. For a second time that night, his elbow perches onto the countertop, and propping the edge of his jaw against his knuckles, he looks at you. Tumultuous eyes rake over your figure, his intense gaze setting your skin on fire and causing you to shift, molten heat pooling within your core. "So, what kind of person allows their beautiful fiancée to sit in a bar drinking by themselves?" Namjoon asks, curiosity lacing his voice.
You snort at his question, and lifting your champagne flute, you down the last of the drink. Just as you finish your beverage, the bartender places your new cocktail down, causing you to incline your head in a gesture of thanks.
"The kind that chooses to fuck one of his clients on the day we're supposed to be celebrating our fourth anniversary," you brazenly admit. Shock colours Namjoon's countenance, his features twisting as his jaw drops in surprise. Though, you have no idea if it's because of the distressing nature of your admission, the unexpectedness of it, or whether it's the blasé attitude you adopt while confessing. Whichever it is, you find yourself giggling at his facial expression. "Outrageous, right? Even more so when you realise the only reason I found out was that I accidentally caught them when I went to his office," you grin.
Composing himself, Namjoon looks at you curiously. "You aren't exactly acting the way someone should be when they catch their fiancé cheating on them. Do you not care?" he inquires. For a fleeting second, you ponder Namjoon's question, only to dismiss it with a wave of your hand.
"I mean, I was definitely shocked when I caught him. We've been together for four years, and no matter what the basis of our relationship is, I never would’ve pinned him for a guy who would cheat," you admit. "But do I care? I’m not sure. It just… made sense."
"Made sense? Does cheating on your fiancé ever make sense?" Namjoon remarks, his head cocking to the side in confusion.
"It does, sort of, when your parents are responsible for arranging your relationship," you smile ruefully.
“Oh?” Namjoon hums, prompting you to elaborate.
“They introduced us when we were still at university, and once we’d graduated, they urged us to get engaged, so we did,” you explain.
“And you didn’t question it? Or tell them that you didn't want to marry him?” Namjoon remarks, causing you to exhale in disbelief.
“No, of course not. That’s what my parents wanted,” you respond, as though your answer was the most obvious one in the world.
“Yes, but is that what you wanted?” he challenges. Briefly, you pause, somewhat startled by his question. Idly, you swirl your champagne flute, watch the bellini slosh inside.
“That’s not important. I don’t want to disappoint them,” you reply. The tone of finality in your voice causes Namjoon to hum in thought, but thankfully, he doesn’t press you any further - understanding that you don’t want to talk about it.
Instead, “I take it you don’t love him, then?” he questions, changing the subject from your parents and back to Minhyuk. This time, you hum.
“I tried to. But, it’s hard to find passion in a relationship fulfilled only on the basis of obligation and parental expectations,” you truthfully answer. Pausing, your eyebrows knit together in thought. “I think I loved him in a sense. I had to, right? We were together for four years, and while it wasn’t a loving relationship, I was….” you begin only to stop once again as you try to find the correct word to describe your feelings. “…Comfortable,” you finally supply. “But am I in love with him? No. I don’t think I’ve ever been in love with him,” you admit bluntly.
You have no idea why you confess your innermost thoughts to the man next to you, nor the private details of your failing relationship. Perhaps it’s that you find comfort in the fact that he’s a complete stranger, someone who doesn’t know you well enough to judge you. Perhaps it’s the fact that he simply listens, prompting you to open up when you need to, but equally respecting your boundaries and not pushing you to reveal more than you want to, or are comfortable to. Perhaps it’s the fact that he doesn’t offer you advice or false positivities. He doesn’t tell you that you need to keep trying because it could work; that if you put in more effort you and Minhyuk will finally fall in love - even though it hasn’t for four years. Nor does he tell you that you need to break up and move on, to forget your parents and do what you want - even though their expectations of you are what have moulded your life for twenty-five years. All of which you’ve grown tired of, your friends meaning well but not necessarily helping your situation.
Namjoon, however, is different.
He simply offers you an ear to vent to, and his pleasant company while drinking, something you sorely needed, apparently.
The two of you fall into silence, the heaviness of your revelations simply impregnating the air as you wallow in them. You’ve been in the bar for more than an hour now, and as the night drags on, more and more people flood into the establishment. Outside, the sun has long since set into the skyline, the mazarine sky overcast with the crepuscular hues of violet and indigo while streaks of vibrant saffron and nacarat cling to the horizon, the two hues contrasting each other in a brilliant display. In the dark of dusk, the kaleidoscopic, neon lights of Seoul's street gleam brighter, illuminating the night in their intense, fluorescing radiance.
“I’m surprised you’re not angry," Namjoon eventually breaks the unforeseen silence. Tilting your head, you look at him blankly.
"Should I be angry?" you question. The dumbfounded inflexion in your voice causes Namjoon's eyes to narrow in incredulity.
Without hesitation, "If I were you, I'd be pretty fucking pissed," he declares. You supposed that would make sense. If your situation were any different, you're sure you'd be downright livid. Hell, to anyone else, it's your reaction—the weird sense of acceptance of Minhyuk's cheating—that's strange.
"But do I have a right to be angry?" you mumble, more to yourself than anyone else.
"What do you mean? Why wouldn't you have a right to be angry?" Namjoon prompts, his slack expression belying the confusion laced in his voice.
"I'm only with him because that's what my parents want. So... Do I have a right to be angry? Haven't I bought this on myself? He said it himself, we don't love each other... Should it matter that he's sleeping with someone else?" you ask. Namjoon lets out a deep sigh.
"Is that relevant? It’s about respect. You said it yourself, you were both pushed into this relationship. Tell me, have you ever cheated on him?" Namjoon questions. You shake your head. "Exactly. You're both in the exact same position, you've both spent more than four years together. But he's the one that cheated. Even if you didn't love him. Even if you don't care. You stayed loyal," Namjoon responds, each impassioned sentence stoking something deep within you. "You're allowed to be angry. You have a right to be angry."
"Yeah..." you murmur. As though granting you permission, his words cause a sudden swell of emotions to flood through you. "Yeah. You're right. It may not have been easy being with me, but it wasn't as if it was peaches and creams being with him either," you continue. For a second time that night, a sudden sense of clarity dawns upon you. Blood rushes through your ears, the sound of your pounding heartbeat almost deafening as you feel a sense of anger foment deep within you. With each shallow, ragged breath, Namjoon's assurance bolsters your feelings, each inhale cementing that fact that you are angry.
"Yeah... Yeah! Did he think he was the only one unhappy? Yeah, sure he acted like the world's perfect boyfriend if we were in public. But in private? God, he could have treated me better, you know. Did you know that I learnt how to cook his favourite meal? Only for him to tell me that he'd eaten out, or that he wasn't coming for dinner? Or that one time, I had a really bad flu, and I thought he'd come to see me and look after me. Except, he'd only come because he needed me to sign some papers for the gallery. And let's not forget that time I'd managed to successfully plan and host my first event at the gallery. He showed up with a bouquet of flowers, and I thought, wow, maybe this relationship is going somewhere. But they weren't from him. They were from his parents, and he'd only shown up to tell me they wanted to have dinner to celebrate. He didn’t even congratulate me!"
The words tumble out in a rush, with barely a breath of reprieve between them - years of suppressed feelings spilling out all at once, as though a dam had finally broken. Each complaint rolls after the other, the endless tirade surging out of you like a never-ending torrent. By the time you're done, your throat is dry, your voice turning hoarse from your broken breath and your sudden verbal onslaught. Suddenly, you feel a sense of relief, your shoulders slumping as you feel the burden disappear off of them. Inhaling deeply, you pant for air, the previous heaviness in your chest morphs into a searing burn - your lungs crying out for oxygen. Nonetheless, for the first time in a couple of years, you feel free.
Seemingly unphased by your rant, Namjoon simply nods along, taking in your words patiently. As he listens to you, waiting for you to get it all out of your system and finish, he casually sips his drink.
"Like, yeah, I know our relationship isn't the most loving, or affectionate. But would it kill him to show some care for the woman he's been with for four years? Or even some generic respect?" you huff as you throw your hands in the air.
Hearing the question, Namjoon opens his mouth to respond. However, he's almost instantly cut off.
"And the sex!" you implode once again.
Startled by the unanticipated exclamation, Namjoon chokes, his drink spluttering out of his lips. Nonetheless, lost in your rush of thoughts, you barely notice. Typically, you wouldn't dare speak about this publically. And especially not to a random stranger you'd only met that day. But, the sudden liberation you feel, paired with your pleasant state of inebriation, loosens your tongue, causing you to spill your innermost thoughts.
"By God, the sex was awful. I don't even know why that poor woman would want to fuck him. Willingly. Do you know how often I had to fake an orgasm? Almost. Every. Time. It was so boring. Most of the time, I just laid there like a fish waiting for him to finish."
Your words cause Namjoon to exhale in amusement. "Poor you," he commiserates, his eyes twinkling with something unknown; something dark, and devilish.
"And then he had the audacity to say that the sex with her is better? At least I tried to make it more interesting. But whenever I even brought up wanting to try something new, he would simply brush me off! Yet, he thinks sex with her is better?" you seethe. If this was a cartoon, you're sure smoke would be blowing out your ears. "I'm not bad at sex. He's not the first person I've slept with. And the guys before him certainly had no complaints. If anything, he's the one bad at sex. His stupid, plain, vanilla, missionary sex and his inability to make me cum," you grumble, your features twisting into a sullen expression as you glare at your empty champagne glass.
Low chuckle resounding through the air, the deep tremor grounds you back to reality, and blinking rapidly, you turn to the man - as though just realising he's there. Of course, you'd been raving at the man this entire time. However, with how quiet he'd been—more than content to sit and sip his drink as he listened to you—you'd completely forgotten who was beside you. And more than that, you'd completely forgotten that you'd only just met the man. Yet, somehow, he now knew every single one of your relationship problems.
A tingling sensation prickles at the flesh of your neck, the vermeil heat of embarrassment swiftly crawling up your skin and towards the tips of your years. Nonetheless, before you even have the opportunity to feel an ounce of self-consciousness, Namjoon's heavy gaze rakes over your figure. Suddenly, the flush of your mortification morphs into a different kind of sear. Inky eyes—the depths tumultuous with something wicked; something carnal—sweep over you, his scrutiny slow, and deliberate, as he practically devours you. The corner of his lip twitches, and you watch as the voluptuous petals pull into a lazy, teasing grin - his teeth peeking through the rosy brown folds.
"You don't look like the type to be interested in non-vanilla sex," he all but purrs. The purposeful rasp to the voice has your stomach flipping, your skin flashing with heat.
Affronted, "W-What's that supposed to mean?" you challenge. Nonetheless, any semblance of fabricated composure you have is swiftly belied by the stammer in your voice. Namjoon's pupils dilate, the umber pools blackening to a tempestuous sable; an inkling of sinfulness glinting through the murkiness.
"It means that I doubt a rich, daddy's little goody-two-shoes like you would be into anything harder than the soft vanilla stuff," he quips. Straightaway, you bristle, his words causing an unusual wave of insolence to rush through you, and instantly, you open your mouth, in a bid to rebuke him. Nevertheless, swiftly, your retort fades. You can't say anything, because you know he's somewhat correct. Especially the part about being daddy's little goody-two-shoes.
Still, "I-I like hard s-stuff!" you argue, the apples of your cheeks burning with torridity. The indignant falter only serves to amuse Namjoon further.
"Really?" he practically sing-songs, the teasing inclination causing your nose to wrinkle.
"Y-Yes," you respond. As you speak, you uncross your legs, only to cross them again, your hips shifting in your seat as liquid heat pools between your thighs. The movement has the skirt of your dress riding up, and as though enticed by it, Namjoon's eyes follow the motion; his gaze lands directly onto your thigh.
"Really? Like what?" he challenges, a perfectly manicured eyebrow arching responsively.
"Like... like... s-spanking... and b-bondage," you admit. Lowering your gaze to the bar, you pull your lower lip between your teeth and begin to gnaw at it. A ripple of mortification flutters through you, yet, at the same time, you feel desire stir within your abdomen; the contrasting emotions causing your stomach to twist in anticipation.
Namjoon shifts beside you and draws closer — close enough that you feel his shoulder brush against yours. "Oh? And where did you learn about that?" he questions. The movement is unexpected and you suddenly draw in a sharp breath. With his proximity, his intoxicating scent cloys the air, the earthen notes of sandalwood intertwining with the spicy ones of cinnamon. You inhale deeply, and as the heady fragrance floods your senses, it's all you can do to suppress the moan that bubbles at the top of your throat.
"I'm twenty-five years old, I watch porn," you quietly reveal, your cheeks puffing in a pout.
"Porn isn't exactly the best place to learn about these things. It's all staged," Namjoon snorts, as though he’s barely restraining a laugh, and frowning, you turn to look at him.
"I know that! But it's still..." you begin, only to quickly pause.
Eyes twinkling with mischief, "It's still...?" he repeats. When you don't say anything, his head drops down. Full lips brush against the outer shell of your ear, the sensation so soft you could swear you imagined it. "Go on, tell me what it is," he urges. His voice is soft, and coaxing, yet, you easily hear the authoritative command that underlies his words.
"Exciting," you breathily respond, somehow unable to disobey.
With your answer, Namjoon draws away from you and back to casually lean against the backrest of his barstool. Immediately, the warmth of his presence disappears, your side suddenly frosty. Curiosity colouring your eyes, you watch him. Lazily, he holds his glass, his fingertips loosely gripping it by the rim, and as he swirls the mixture—the melting ice cube clinking against the surface—you find yourself hypnotised. His fingers are dexterous, the digits artfully flexing under his languid motions, and the backs of his hands are vascularised, each vein made more prominent under his ministrations.
"Oh Sweetheart, if all you know is what you've learnt from porn, you don't know the half of it," he finally remarks, his voice drawing you out of your spellbound reverie. This time, as he speaks, your attention is drawn to his lips. For a second time that night, you wonder what his lips would feel like, taste like. Except, this time, they're not inadvertent, nor do you brush them off. Rather, you intentionally wonder.
Something in the back of your mind reminds you that this is a dangerous game, that the man in front of you is nothing but a stranger. One that exudes sinful temptation, as if his entire being beguiles you - as if he beckons you to give in to him and take a drink from his devil's cup. Another, much smaller, much quieter, part of you reminds you of Minhyuk, the fact that you're engaged, the fact that this would disappoint your parents, and the fact that this would make you just as guilty as Minhyuk. Yet, those thoughts are merely fleeting, the meek voice quickly drowned by just how much you want the man in front of you - the need for him burning within you with an intensity you'd never felt before.
Besides, your engagement was nothing but a mockery, a farce to please your parents. And Minhyuk himself was already cheating on you. So why couldn't you?
Why do you have to feel guilty?
Why do you have to remain loyal and unhappy?
Why do you have to bear the weight of it all, while Minhyuk happily fucks his client in your gallery?
Bolstered by your thoughts, "Maybe you should show me," you murmur. Your voice is quiet—somewhat timid—yet, there isn't a single hint of hesitation, nor apprehensiveness in it. Namjoon hums in response but doesn’t say anything else.
Moments pass in silence, and when he still doesn’t respond, you find yourself growing anxious, and wondering if you’d made a mistake, your palms turn clammy. In contrast, Namjoon is a picturesque scene of nonchalance. He leans languidly, yet imposingly, against the backrest of the supple leather barstools, one hand draped over the armrest, while the other holds onto his drink, the finger rhythmically tapping against the rim. Fixated on the glass bottles, Namjoon avoids your gaze, even as you hold your stare, knowing that if you look away, you'll lose the unusual sense of bravery that fills you.
All of a sudden, he moves. Through the corners of his eyes, he glances at you - his fervid scrutiny causing you to shrink slightly, your body shifting to turn away from him as you brace yourself for his rejection.
"In the right corner, there's a set of stairs that lead up to the second level of the bar. It's currently closed, they only open it on certain nights. Mostly when they host events for university students in the area," he suddenly speaks, causing you to startle slightly. Eyebrows furrowing, you cock your head to the side, wondering what he's talking about. "There's a balcony up there, it overlooks the dancefloor, on the nights this place is a club. Meet me up there, and I'll give you exactly what you want; exactly what you've been missing," he murmurs. The low intonation of his voice has you inhaling sharply, and paired with the carnal lust laced through the baritone tremor, your core flushes with liquid heat.
"However, I am going to fuck you up there. Right on the balcony. Where anyone who looks up will see you begging to cum as I stuff you full of my cock," Namjoon warns. His perverse words cause searing lust to bubble within your bloodstream, and involuntarily, you feel your walls clench; the uncomfortable feeling of your dampening panties makes you shift in your seat. "If you go there, I'm going to ruin you," he all but vows. "I'll fuck you in a way no one else would, in a way no one else could. I'll ravage you. Devour you. Defile you. And by the time I'm done, you won't be able to fuck anyone else—you won't be able to fuck Minhyuk—without thinking about me," he finishes. As he speaks, he keeps his voice quiet, so as not to alert anyone else—especially the barkeep—of your plans. Although, all it does is set your body further on fire, each promise like lightning strikes in your veins.
"But... if that's too much for you. If you're not serious about this, you should leave," he offers, the previous undertow of wicked raspiness in his voice morphing back to his natural dulcet timbre. "Make up your mind. I'll wait exactly ten minutes before leaving." With that, he stands up and walks away. Unable to turn away, you watch as he casually makes his way to the stairs, so nonchalant that barely anyone pays attention to him.
When his figure disappears through the doors and up the stairs, you let out a breath, unsure of when you'd even stopped breathing. His proposal hangs heavy in the air, his words playing over and over in your head as you contemplate them. Nonetheless, it doesn't take you long to make a decision. In fact, the moment he'd asked you to meet him up there, your mind had already been made up. Was it wrong? Yes. Absolutely. Whether your relationship is a sham or not, and your engagement is an obligation or not, they were still commitments you'd made, and willingly agreed to. Morally, you know you should walk away - exit the building and forget about the sinful man, who might as well have been the devil in disguise.
But you simply can't.
Even if you know you should. Even if you know it's wrong. You can't walk away.
Because right now, there is nothing more you want than to have him fuck you senseless; than to have him fuck you so hard, so rough, that you forget about your responsibilities, your commitments, and most importantly, your cheating fiancé.
Thus, with your decision set, you turn to the bartender and attempt to pay your tab. Only to find out that Namjoon had already furtively taken care of it. Typically, you would be somewhat put out. You're an adult, with an incredibly well paying job, and excessively rich parents. You didn't need him to pay for you. Yet, you can't help but find the fact that he did incredibly sexy.
Minhyuk hadn't paid for a thing since you'd graduated.
Namjoon's actions only affirm your choice to follow him up to the second floor. So, gathering your things, you walk across the room and towards the stairs, your heart thundering in your ears with each step.
Arriving at the top, you squint and look for Namjoon. The floor is mostly dark, a stark comparison to the warmly lit main level, with only a few spotlights illuminating the area. Most of the balcony space is taken up by large VIP booths that overlook the ground floor, each section separated by a fence of frosted glass while the entrances are restricted by velvet rope barriers. In one of the corners, sitting close to the metal railing is Namjoon. He casually leans against the leather backrest, one foot crossed over his knee, his right arm thrown over the top of the sofa, and his left hand drumming the armrest rhythmically.
A fluttery, warm fuzziness pools within your abdomen, as if butterflies bloom from their cocoons within its depths, and licking your lips, you slowly approach him. The heels of your stilettos harshly click against the hardwood floors, the sound loud and jarring in the silence. For a second time that night, your throat constricts, each step closer to Namjoon's imposing silhouette causing the muscles to tighten. Though, this time, it isn't due to a sense of foreboding, but rather, eager anticipation. Hearing your footfalls, Namjoon nonchalantly tilts his chin back to look at you, his half-lidded, smouldering gaze setting your body aflame.
"Come here. Stand in front of me," he orders, crooking his fingers in a 'come hither' motion as he beckons you to him.
The deep thrum of his voice sends shivers down your spine, your knees threatening buckle at the seductive inflexion. Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you close the short distance between you. You squeeze yourself through the space between his legs and the edge of the booth's table and come to a halt when you're directly in front of him. Namjoon doesn't move an inch. Instead, he looks you up and down, his heavy scrutiny closely examining each inch of your body. Eyes of sable rake your figure, from your delicate decolletage down to the curve of your breasts, over your soft stomach then across the voluptuous swell of your hips and down the curvaceous shape of your thighs.
Gaze flicking back up, he stares directly at you. "I wonder... Should I be mean and make you strip completely naked?" he smirks.
Immediately, you tense, a ripple of anxiousness fluttering through you. The thought of stripping till you’re completely naked is humiliating, yet exhilarating at the same time - a small part of you eager to comply. However, a large part of you is unsure if you're ready for something like that yet. After all, the balcony railing is completely see-through, and anyone who looked up would be able to clearly see the two of you. Noticing the way your shoulders stiffen, he softly laughs.
"Don't worry, Sweetheart. I'm only teasing," he reassures, the corners of his lips curling into a sweet smile. Unexpectedly, his cheeks indent, a pair of dimples making themselves known, the sight causing your heart to flutter. Really, he was far too handsome. "Since it's your first time, I'll go easy on you... somewhat," he continues, flashing an impish grin. Mollified by his words, you nod your head, causing his smile to morph into a wicked smirk.
“Why don’t you start by placing your hands on the railing and bending over for me, hmm?” he commands instead.
Chewing on your lips, you tentatively comply with his demands. Shimmying through the space between his legs and the table, you move to the small open area between the balcony railing and the sofa. Closer to the black iron fence now, your eyes widen as they automatically drop to the floor below. From your position, you can see the main part of the bar, and you’re sure that if anyone were to look up, they’d equally see you. The muscles of your throat constrict at the sight, and you swallow thickly - in a bid to soothe the dryness at the back.
Closing your eyes, you take a couple of deep, steadying breaths. Namjoon had already warned you he’d be fucking you here—in the middle of the bar, where anyone could see—and you’d willingly followed him. You want this, you know you do. You want something more than the stale, boring sex you had grown used to the past few years, something more than the stagnating apathy that was your relationship; something more than the disappointing orgasms that left you more wanting than satisfied each time. All of which you’re sure Namjoon could give you, even if for one night - his entire being exuding tempting sin and seductive wickedness.
As you gather your courage, Namjoon simply waits, and his patience only bolsters you. You want this more than anything. You want him more than anything. Thus, opening your eyes, you finally place your hands on the railing, your fingers enclosing around the cylindrical bar, before bending over slightly. Behind you, Namjoon hums in thought. The sound of leather squeaking fills the air, followed by the rustle of clothing. Then, you feel Namjoon's presence behind you. His body brushes against yours, the warmth of his breath fanning across the back of your neck, causing the hairs to stand on edge.
He splays his palm across the top of your back—just between your shoulder blades—before tracing it down the middle of your backbone, only to stop just above your ass. Bending his neck down, he brushes his lips against your ear, "Arch your back more. Show me your ass," he orders, pushing down on your body as he speaks. Submissively, you do as he says, your feet shifting backwards as you curve your spine, the contortion drawing attention to the curvaceous globes of your ass. Namjoon hums in approval, "How obedient."
Tilting his head, he buries his face into the arch of your neck and runs his pillowy lips over the supple flesh in hot, open-mouthed kisses. With each ministration, he lightly nips at your throat, the soft sensation of his voluptuous petals mixing with the warm wetness of his tongue making you moan. All of a sudden, he bites down, an unexpected pang of pain jolting through you. A gasp of surprise slips through your mouth, your head falling to the cool metal railing in front of you. The heat between your thighs intensifies, molten lust pooling between them as you soak the material of your underwear.
"You make such pretty sounds. I wonder just how loud you'll be," he mutters out loud, more to himself than you. Still, you find yourself blushing.
Unaware of your embarrassment, Namjoon busies himself with his own actions, his mouth idly roaming over your neck, the roughness of his ministrations undoubtedly blooming bruises into your skin. His hands move to your hips, gripping them and pulling you into him. Under normal circumstances, you're sure his crotch would rest against the small of your back—due to the height difference—but with the stilettos donned on your feet, the hardness of his cock presses flat against your ass instead.
The indurated outline of his throbbing shaft burrows into the groove of your ass, and your flesh separated only by the thin fabric of your dress— as well as the thicker material of his slacks—you let out a throaty mewl. This time, he ignores the sound. Rather, "Let's set some ground rules, shall we?" he murmurs, the gravity of his words are juxtaposed by the breathy husk of his voice. Nose running up the length of your neck, he buries it in the sensitive spot just at the bottom of your earlobe, "Firstly, for as long as I fuck you, you'll refer to me as 'Sir' and nothing else," he purrs. Instinctively, your eyes flutter shut, your pussy clenching simultaneously - the idea of calling him 'Sir' causing something unknown to stir within you.
Pressing a kiss to your flesh, "Secondly, you will do as I ask," he continues, his voice heavily laced with dominance. "If you disobey, I will punish you," he adds, his intonation turning darker. He pauses for a brief moment, a low chuckle emanating from the midst of his chest. "Though, I doubt daddy's little goody-two-shoes will have any trouble with that, isn't that right, Sweetheart?" he jeers sardonically. The pet name drips from his lips, as sweet as ambrosia and as dark as sin. Again, he presses a kiss to the spot just below your ear. "Lastly, going off of that, if for any reason you don't want to do something, or if something is too much, or you want to stop; your safeword is 'red'. Alright, love?" he asks, his voice softer, and more affectionate this time.
For a few seconds, your mind goes blank, the feel of Namjoon's cock pressing into your ass and the warmth of his breath against your skin overtaking your senses. Displeased with the lack of response, however, Namjoon's grip on your hips tightens - his fingertips digging into them. "Answer me," he hisses.
With a gasp, "Y-Yes," you stammer, your words catching in your dry throat. Clearing it, "I understand," you clearly enunciate.
"Good girl," he purrs. His praise causes you to preen, and cheeks heating, you shuffle from foot to foot whilst attempting to stifle the smile that threatens to break on your lips. One of the hands on your hips moves, indolently tracking down your thigh. Getting to the hem of your dress, his fingers slip under the satin material. The cool sensation of his fingers against your fervid skin makes you gasp, a hollow mew resonating from your throat.
In languid strokes, his fingertips stroke your thigh, his hand getting higher and higher with each passing moment, until it finds the underside curve of your ass. Behind you, Namjoon groans lowly, his touch turning heavier as he cups his entire palm around the soft curve. Thanks to your thong, the flesh of your cheeks are fully exposed, and instantly, his calloused hand makes contact with your heated skin, causing you to mew. With his firm hold, he gently massages your ass, his ministration intermittently pulling apart the cheeks and causing your underwear to ride further into the cleft.
Feeling the dampening lacy material cling to your folds, you shift your hips, the movement pushing your ass further into his hand. When the edge of his fingertips brush against your panty-clad pussy, your mouth falls open - a guttural, breathy moan slipping from your lips. Facing forward, you can’t see Namjoon’s face. Yet, as the air shifts around him, your spine tingling with anticipation, you almost feel the way he smirks. Deliberately, his fingers flit over the curve of your ass and up to the waistband of your underwear.
His mouth moves to graze the shell of your ear. “Spread your legs,” he murmurs before biting the tip of the cartilage. You don’t have to be asked twice. Immediately, your heels move, your feet splaying until they’re more than shoulder-width apart. “God, you’re so good… Such an obedient little slut,” he coos. His words are unexpected, the use of ‘slut’ surprising you somewhat. Not being used to such degradation during sex, you expect to feel some semblance of insult, yet, as his words sink into your being, you can’t help the flicker of thrill that washes through you.
Namjoon slips his fingers under the elasticated band, before pulling it down. As he divests you off your panties, his fingernails rake across your flesh - over the flesh of your plump cheeks and down the curvy tops of your thighs. Once the fabric peels from your body, cool air wafts over your soaked folds and you moan in relief. Nonetheless, your reprieve doesn’t last long. Without further delay, Namjoon’s hand darts into the space between your thighs, his fingers slipping through your folds. You hiss at the sudden contact, your back arching as your mouth parts in a dry moan.
Completely ignoring your clit, Namjoon presses the lengths of his digits against either side of your folds before surreptitiously massaging them. The pads of his middle and pointer finger rub your sex, each stroke spreading your wetness until your pussy is coated in your slickness. His touch is fervid, jolts of electric ecstasy shooting through your nerves and engulfing your being. Lost in pleasure, “N-Namjoon,” you gasp, your eyes fluttering with each of his ministrations.
Immediately, Namjoon’s hand tears away from your pussy. Your mouth falls open, a disappointed croon threatening to spill from your lips. However, before the noise can rip from you, Namjoon’s palm lands on the fleshy cheek of your ass. The impact is heavy, a sudden sting searing across your skin as a harsh smack reverberates through the air. Reflexively, your back arches, and your hips jerk at the pain, the disappointed groan morphing into a choked cry. Behind you, Namjoon bites your earlobe, the two sensations coalescing into a mix of pain and pleasure.
“What was my first rule, Sweetheart?” Namjoon questions, dark dominance laden in his gruff voice. As your pussy quivers—his rough actions causing a gush of wetness to trickle out of you and onto your thighs—you think back to the rules he’d only just established; one of which you’ve already broken.
“S-Sir,” you correct yourself.
Namjoon hums. “That’s right, it’s Sir,” he reiterates. As he speaks, his hand moves back between your thighs before his pointer and thumb swiftly pinch your swollen clit. The sharp ache causes you to whine, your grip tightening on the rail whilst your knuckles pale. "Do I need to remind you again of what happens when you disobey, Princess?" he asks, almost spitting out the pet name. At the derisive dominance charged in his voice, your legs wobble, your knees threatening to buckle under your weight.
"I'm sorry," comes your soughed apology. Namjoon doesn't respond. Rather, in indolent motions, he circles the outline of your clit with his finger - lightly rolling it under the pad. Jolts of pleasure flit up your nerves, and as your pussy quivers, they release another flood of wetness out of you. In thick rivulets, your arousal dribbles, some of the filmy strings dripping onto Namjoon's hand, while others leak onto the floor in little droplets. Feeling your wetness, Namjoon laughs lowly.
"You're so fucking wet. Is this turning you on, Princess? My hand on your cunt where anyone can see?" he questions, an inkling of surprise lacing his voice. Your breath labours, each exhale heavy and broken. "Who knew you were such an exhibitionist whore?" he continues mockingly.
Moving his fingers through your slit, Namjoon smirks. Nimble fingers caress through your cunt - the lengths dipping between the petaled folds as he gathers as much of your wetness onto them as he can. Then, travelling further down, he comes into contact with your rippling entrance. Namjoon lets out a soft coo when he feels the slick, heated hole, his fingertip tapping it in rapid motions. In the silence of the empty balcony, the sound of your pussy squelching is prominent—and almost humiliating—each 'schluck' causing vermeil heat to flush across your ears.
“God, you really are so wet. I bet I could fuck my entire cock into this tight little cunt right now if I wanted to,” he groans. Reflexively, your internal muscles begin to pulsate, your hole twitching around his fingers. The pads of his pointer and middle digits press against your entrance—just enough pressure to draw your attention to it, but not enough to penetrate you—the actions driving you mad with pleasure. “Oh? I can feel this pretty cunt twitch, Sweetheart. Is that what you want? To feel my thick cock slide into this little hole and fuck it open?” Namjoon jeers, emphasising his words by sliding two fingers into you.
His fingers are long and thick, and as they slide into you, a pleasurable burn ripples through the taut muscles of your pussy. Pliant from the mix of your arousal and slickness, however, you readily spread open around his digits - the ringed muscles contracting and sucking him deeper into your velvet depths. Automatically, your mouth falls open, a low keen escaping from deep within your chest when you feel the lengths of his digits inside you. Unrelenting, Namjoon pushes further and further into you—his ministrations incredibly deliberate as he forces you to feel every centimetre of his fingers—until he’s pushed them in hilt-deep.
"Fucking hell. How are you this tight around my fingers? Did Minhyuk not fuck you right, Princess?" he hisses, your fiancé's name snarled with hate.
"No," comes your unhesitant response, your mouth moving before you could properly contemplate your answer. Experimentally, he spreads his fingers in a 'V, the movement splaying your inner walls apart. Feeling their resistance, Namjoon lets out an almost animalistic growl.
"I can tell. It's so tight, so unused," he murmurs, his voice assuming a raspy husk. Lazily, he thrusts his fingers into you, each stroke long and drawn out, the lengths dragging against each and every one of your erogenous zones. With how snugly your walls cling to his appendages, Namjoon feels every spasm of your pussy. "Minhyuk really didn't fuck you right, huh, Princess? He didn't know how to use your cunt, defile it, stretch it out," he taunts, his tongue flicking out to trace the outer shell of your ear. His words make you whimper, your thighs twitching as heat swelters within your abdomen. "But don't worry, Princess. I know how to use it. I'm going to fuck it open. Stretch it out and leave it gaping with the shape of my cock."
He emphasises each sentiment with a hard thrust of fingers, as though he's emulating his cock plunging into your silken depths. Each of his purred words makes your spine tingle with anticipation. “P-please,” you stutter out, your hips automatically moving to grind into his hand as you try to hasten his slow pace.
“Shit- look at you. Look at the way you’re fucking into my hand. Needy bitch,” Namjoon snickers. "Do you want me to fuck my fingers into you, Princess?" he coos. Eagerly, you nod your head, your ass rocking onto his fingers. Swivelling your hips, you drop lower - your cunt walls pulsating as your pussy tries to swallow his digits deeper. With each motion, fervent ecstasy licks at your being, your stomach twisting and knotting as you feel your orgasm approach. Simultaneously, the muscles of your cunt begin to contract intermittently, the once rhythmic clamping turning erratic.
As though he senses your impending climax, "Do you want to cum, Sweetheart?" Namjoon teases. Within the rough warble of his voice, amidst the tender inflexion, you clearly hear an undertone of mockery, the taunt belying his faux concern. Nonetheless, with pleasure addling your judgement, you barely register his gibe. Thus, you earnestly nod your head, the muscles of your throat constricting as your orgasm closes in. However, all of a sudden, Namjoon's pulling his hand out from between your thighs, and as a result, his fingers exit your cunt, leaving you feeling empty.
The wave of ecstasy that threatened to flood you swiftly ebbs away, the searing heat within your stomach swiftly dwindling into a dum ember. As your climax fades, “No!” you sob, your hips bucking in an attempt to chase his fingers. Nevertheless, even as Namjoon's hands drop to the tops of your thighs, he faithfully stays away from your entrance, his digits instead massaging the puffy, tumid folds of your sex. Your vision blurs, tears of desperation welling within your eyes as you sniffle. Softly, Namjoon hushes you. His head drops to your shoulder, and burying his face into the delicate arc of your neck, he presses soothing kisses against the column - even as his fingers continuously caress your nether lips, wiping your slick off of them and onto your dewy flesh.
"S-Sir. P-Please," you all but beg, your head tilting to the side. Through large, pleading eyes, you look at him over your shoulder, the tears staining your eyelashes causing him to groan. Pulling away from your sex, he brings his hand to grip your chin, and holding it between his thumb and middle finger, he traces his pointer finger—still slick with your juices—against your lips.
"Fuck, look at you. I've only fingered you a bit and you're already this desperate? Desperate slut," he hisses. His finger presses into the seam of your lips, and automatically, your mouth opens - allowing Namjoon to thrust his wet digit into your mouth. Without hesitation, he presses the length against your tongue, the headiness of your arousal bathing your tastebuds. Namjoon smiles in approval at your obedience. "Don't worry, Princess, I'll ruin that sweet little cunt soon; fill it so deep with my cock and make you cum over, and over, and over again. Until you're crying and begging me to stop before I break that tight, pretty cunt," he promises. "But, you'll only cum when I let you," he adds, his voice undertaking a darker, more carnal tinge.
The sinfulness of his words has you releasing another gush of arousal, the walls of your pussy tightening around nothing as you feel the dull ache return with a vengeance. Namjoon shifts behind you, and taking a short step forward, he presses his body further into you. The defined musculature of his torso lays flat against the curve of your back, the contours of your figures melding together. Concurrently, in one fluid motion, Namjoon pushes one of his thighs between your legs, his hand pulling away from your cunt before both curl around the swells of your hips. His fingers splay across your abdomen, the digits flexing in a soothing, leisurely massage.
"How badly do you want to cum, Princess?" Namjoon questions.
"S-So bad. P-Please," comes your strained response. Your answer has Namjoon gripping your hips tighter—the pads digging into your flesh hard enough to bloom bruises in the flesh—before he brings them down onto his thigh. Hissing through your teeth at the movement, your cunt clenches around nothing - the smooth, luxurious fabric of his slacks pressing against your aching pussy. Namjoon lets out a soft grunt, both his thigh, and cock, flexing as he feels the heat of your core seep through his trousers.
“God- you’re so hot - and so fucking wet…” Namjoon murmurs through gritted teeth. The cotton material against your bare, tumescent folds has you whimpering, and before he can say anything, you’re already fidgeting over his thighs. Namjoon chuckles as your hips begin rocking. “Depraved little whore. Does it feel good, Sweetheart?" He doesn't wait for you to answer. Rather, "Hmmm, I bet it does… finally having something nice and thick touch your needy pussy,” Namjoon taunts, a wry grin on his face. Eagerly, you nod, your hips moving harder.
Suddenly, one of his hands moves, the palm landing directly onto your side of your ass, making you cry out his name. The flesh blooms with pain from his sharp spank, the surface prickling with heat. Followed by the harsh ministration, he soothingly runs his palms up and down the curve of your ass. “If you want to cum, you need to be good, Princess. Can you do that?” Namjoon questions, his voice coming out in a deep hum.
Hastily nodding, “I’ll be good,” you respond.
“Oh, I'm sure you will,” Namjoon snickers. "Though... I wonder if I could get you to be bad," he ponders out loud, more to himself than anyone - verbally wondering if it was possible to break your obedience. Still, he doesn't dwell on the thought for long. “Here’s what I want you to do, Princess… I want you to ride my thigh,” Namjoon commands. Your throat dries at the order and you mewl in pleasure. You’ll ride his thigh for the rest of the night if it means he finally lets you cum. When you don't articulate your response, Namjoon hisses, "Can you do that for me?"
"Yes, Sir," you acknowledge.
“Good girl. Now, ride,” Namjoon purrs as he leans back slightly. The warmth of his body disappears from yours, but you swallow the moan of displeasure that forms in the back of your throat.
Instead, you gyrate your cunt against his thighs, your hands loosening from the bannister  - your fingers twitching to touch him. Whiny gasps and moans fall from your lips; the slight abrasiveness of his trousers causes you to cry out in pleasure. His thigh is thick between yours, your clit dragging across the length as you try to press it harder into him. With every movement of your hips, you leave broad trails of slick over his trousers - the thick material covered in a light coating of arousal. Though, with each motion of your hips, the fabric grows wetter.
From his position behind you, Namjoon simply watches the way you move: the hypnotic contortion of your waistline, the mesmerising sway of your hips, the captivating bounce of your ass; all as you do your best to move over him. Captivated by your erotic motions, Namjoon feels his cock engorge within his trousers, the already swollen shaft throbbing almost painfully in the confines of his slacks. Momentarily, he removes his hands from your hips, dropping them to undo the belt buckle and zipper, before pulling out his rigid member. Through gritted teeth, he hisses, the cool air granting his tumid cock some semblance of relief.
In contrast, you let out a dry sob, the weight of his shaft teasingly resting against your bare ass, his warm precum dripping out of his head and onto your skin. Facing away from it, you haven't seen his cock yet. Nonetheless, just from its sheer heaviness, you can already tell how large he is. Possibly the largest you've ever felt. The sensation of his throbbing member pressing against you causes you to let out a soft whimper, your mouth watering. You’d give anything—anything—to feel his cock. Plagued by the emptiness in your core, your movements become more feverish - each motion a little faster, or harsher than the previous one.
Meanwhile, Namjoon's dark gaze trails up your covered body. The hands on your hips trail up the shape of your waist and towards the top of your back. Calloused fingers flit over the neckline of your dress, and gripping the zipper, he slowly slides it down. The sharp hissing of the zipper resounds through the air, the sound intertwining with your haggard panting and breathy moans. As he undoes the metal links of the zip, more and more of your flesh is revealed to him. Namjoon's dark gaze trails down your body, his eyes drawn to the tempting curve of your spine.
Slipping his hands under the loosened material of your dress, he lays them on your ribcage, his fingertips brushing against the underside of your breasts. His touch causes you to gasp, your hips responsively grinding harder into his thigh. Within the confines of your bra, your nipples are twisted hard, the pebbled buds straining against the lace mesh. Briefly, Namjoon toys with the underwire, before his fingers slip over. Cupping your tits in his hold, he lightly brushes his thumbs against your covered nipple.
“Fuck,” you cry out, your fingernails scratching the metal railing as you shudder over him. Nonetheless, repeatedly, Namjoon begins swiping his thumb over your nipples - dragging them under the pad in steady circles. Almost painfully tightened to hardness, each of his movements has your sensitive nipples brushing against the coarse material of your bra - the sensation only heightening your pleasure. Briefly, you pause your motions, your cunt erratically clenching as you simply sit on his thigh, while you relish in the way he teases your hardened bud.
In an instant, Namjoon pinches the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, before twisting it painfully. A sharp thrum of stinging pain shoots from your breast and straight to your core: your pussy clamping and releasing a gush of wetness at the pain. “Did I say you could stop, Princess?” Namjoon seethes, a slight, domineering sneer on his face.
Despite his words, the pain has you arching into his hold, a moan of ecstasy emanating from your throat as you silently beg for more. Namjoon growls and twisting it harder this time, his fingers pull the hardened peak painfully. “Stop being a disobedient whore, Sweetheart. I told you to move,” he scolds. For a moment, a ripple of insolence rises in your chest and Namjoon's words from earlier echo in your mind.
If you disobey, I will punish you.
For a second time that night, the thought of Namjoon punishing you stirs something within you, and fleetingly, you wonder if you should willingly disobey - whether you should defy his orders and see just how he'll discipline you.
Almost as if sensing the disobedient spark within you, however, Namjoon raises a single eyebrow. He trails one hand up your chest and towards your neck before he wraps it around your throat. The feel of his warm, indurated fingers against the delicate column has any thoughts of defiance quickly diminishing, the muscles of your oesophagus constricting involuntarily With his hand spread over your throat, he tenderly brushes his lips against your ear. Then, pulling the cartilage between his teeth, he nips at the shell. “Oh? Is my Princess thinking of being a brat? Now? When you promised to be good?” Namjoon's voice breaks the silence; his breath wafting against your lower jaw.
He doesn’t say it explicitly, but the warning is there - as clear as day. If you don’t obey him, he won’t let you cum. The threat has your eyes widening. He'd already edged you once, you don't know how you'll cope with a second. Especially with how insanely dominating, and ridiculously sexy, the man is. Thus, with no further thought of a challenge, you begin moving on top of him once more.
“That’s my good girl,” Namjoon praises, his head dropping so he can brush his thick lips against the back of your—now exposed—shoulder. The appraising action has you mewling, and unable to help yourself, your head lolls back to rest against his strong chest. Namjoon hums, the thrumming vibration causing your eyes to flutter. “Come on, Sweetheart, don’t you wanna cum?” Namjoon asks. As he speaks, he deliberately tenses his thigh - the action causing his muscle to contract, the hardened flesh pressing against your swollen clit.
His ministration draws a deep, guttural groan from you. Not having had a decent orgasm in, well, a really long time—almost disgustingly long—you can already feel your stomach begin to twist - the dull heat intensifying into a searing vengeance for a second time. Feeling your orgasm build once more, you let out a slew of whines and whimpers, your hips moving faster, and more urgently. One of Namjoon's hands drops from your breast, moving to grip your hip instead. Meanwhile, the other continues to leisurely toy with your breast, his hand rolling the soft mound in his grasp as his thumb and pointer finger pinches and tugs at the hardened nipple through the lace of your bra.
The hand resting on your hip grips you tightly, his fingers digging almost bruisingly into your pelvis as he helps you grind on him. Harder and harder, you rock on top of him, each motion dragging your swollen, aching cunt over the entire length of his thigh as you chase your own pleasure. It's been so long since you've felt such pleasure. In fact, even before Minhyuk, you don't think you've felt anything like this, and so rattled by Namjoon, you're sure that even the intoxication friction of his smooth slacks against your swollen clit is going to have you cumming.
Dark eyes falling to where your thighs clench his, your cunt grinding on him, Namjoon lets out a hiss. Fingers flexing around your hips, “That’s it. That's a good little whore. Get yourself off on my thigh. Look at you, you’re so fucking soaked you've drenched my trousers. Desperate fucking cockslut,” Namjoon spits out. His words have you whimpering, your pussy involuntarily clenching around nothing and only emphasising the emptiness of your walls.
Eyes dropping down, your gaze falls on the leg pushed between yours. Even in the low lighting of the balcony, you spot the large patch of wetness that stains his trousers, the slightly filmy splotch making you let out a low mewl. Writhing your hips backwards, his cock presses into the seam of your ass, the blunt, mushroom tip pushing between your cheeks and dribbling his arousal onto your flesh. Imperceptibly, it pulses, the thick veins bulging against your flesh every time blood is pumped to the girthy, tumescent shaft.
“S-Sir, p-please, I w-w-want your c-c-cock,” you stammer out, even as you begin moving in a more frenzied manner.
Humming noncommittally, Namjoon presses his thumb against your nipple before rolling it in one tight circle. The action has a keening moan of his name spilling from your mouth, your spine tingling with pleasure. “Is that right, Sweetheart? Are you already that desperate for my cock? Do you want me to sink into that tight cunt? Feel my cock pull you open as you cum around it? Is that what you want, Princess?” Namjoon taunts. His voice is sweet, practically mellifluous and syrupy. Yet, there’s a darker undercurrent to it - the sinful dominance causing your stomach to flip.
“Oh fuck. Fuck yes… Sir, I want it. I want it so bad, please,” you beg over him, desperation consuming you. Namjoon lets out a dark chuckle. Hand moving from your hip, it trails down to grip your ass. Large palm splaying across the plump flesh, he clutches it in his hold before spreading it. The action causes the soft globes to pull apart, his cockhead slipping further into the cleft before resting just above your asshole. Feeling his crown press against the puckered rim, your spine stiffens. With your ass spread in his gasp, Namjoon's gaze lowers to your exposed folds, the petalled lips profusely leaking your wetness on his thigh.
Tumultuous eyes—rife with carnalistic lust—hone in on the clenching hole, and noticing the way it twitches, the muscles closing around each other before relaxing, he hums. “But I don’t think you can take it, Princess." His thumb presses onto your sex, just next to the entrance, and digging the pad into the fold, he pulls it apart further. The motion exposes the muscled ring of your pussy, a wave of humiliation washing through you as you realise he can see your cunt in its entirety. "Look at how tight that fucking hole is. It's been so long since this sweet little cunt has been fucked properly. It's probably too small to take my cock,” Namjoon taunts.
Swiftly, you shake your head, your head dropping to his shoulder as you sob out his name. “I can take it. I can!" you argue.
"Really?" Namjoon questions. You furiously nod your head. "Then ask me to stretch your pussy out," he orders. You inhale sharply, your mouth drying. Another surge of embarrassment floods through you. Nevertheless, you do as he says.
"Please, S-Sir, can you s-stretch me o-out," you stammer. Namjoon tuts.
"Stretch what out?" he challenges.
"S-Stretch my p-pussy out," you clarify, your cheeks flushing with red-hot heat.
"Good girl," he praisingly hums. "Now, ask me to ruin your cunt," he continues his torment. Both his hands fall to hold your ass, helping you move harder over him as he makes his demands.
"Ah. C-Can you r-ruin my c-cunt, Sir?" you repeat, your throat catching as you swallow thickly. Pleasure sears your veins, your blood boiling from the mix of mortification and ecstasy he reaps onto your being.
"Now beg me to fuck you. To fill you with my cock and fuck you better than your fiancé ever could. Beg me to fuck that tiny little cunt until it's open and gaping," he whispers. His voice is purposely low and filled with immorality - as though he's the devil himself tempting you to sin. One hand dips between your thighs, his finger slipping between your folds and pushing against your clit. Under his touch, the neglected bud throbs, Namjoon lazily rolling it in slow, tight circles.
"P-Please fuck me. Please fill m-me up with your cock and f-fuck me better than M-Minhyuk. Please. W-Want you to fuck my c-cunt until it's o-open and g-gaping. Please, Sir." you wail, your voice breaking as you force the lewd words out, your hips writhing wildly on his thigh.
"Such a good, obedient little slut," Namjoon hisses.
His deep voice causes you to let out a shuddering sob, your eyes screwed shut as his deep, melodious voice reverberates through your eardrum. Nodding against his shoulder, you whine out his name - his words only serving to exacerbate the emptiness of your pussy. “You’re already so wet you’ve completely soaked my trousers, you know. I bet you’ll soak my cock just as well—get it nice and messy so I can fuck your cunt open—stretch it wide around my cock - the way you deserve,” Namjoon continues taunting. Gasping for air, your fists tighten around the railing, the knuckles paling as you wish you could wrap your arms around his shoulders and cling to him instead.
Between laboured breaths, “S-S-Sir… wanna cum… please,” you heave out. You push harder against him, shifting your weight so you can grind your clit into the top of his thigh. The material repetitively brushes your throbbing, engorged clit, forcing tingles of heated pleasure to prickle at your skin. Every writhing motion, every time you squirm over him, you climb higher and higher to the brink of your own pleasure. Still, it's not enough.
The empty ache within your pussy flares, and with stuttered words, “P-please… Sir… I need something,” you force out.
You’re so incredibly close: teetering on the precipice of your orgasm as you ride his thigh. Rocking harder onto him, you grind your clit into his leg, trying to force your own orgasm. Sparks of pleasure jolt across your spine, and you let out a low moan as you feel your end near. However, just before you can fall off of the edge, Namjoon pushes you off of him, his thigh pulling out from between your thighs. It happens so quickly, it's almost sadistically cruel. Especially since, without any friction against your clit, the intensity of your orgasm fades; the searing heat in your stomach dwindling into a dull ache.
“N-No. You said I could cum! Please! I’m being good!” you sob out in protest. Instantly, your hands release the bannister, and you move to turn around - fighting against the weight of his chest pressing against your back as you attempt to continue riding his thigh.
Without a word of a warning, Namjoon's hand comes down onto your ass - so hard the smacking sound reverberates through the air. Pain flares across the flesh, your spine contorting in response as you howl his name. “Don't you dare let go of that railing. You’ll cum when I say so,” Namjoon sneers. The harshness of your voice has you quickly placing your trembling hands back on the bannister.
Shaking your head, you scrunch your eyes and cry in objection, “N-No. P-Please. You said! You said I could cum! Sir, please!”
Your sobs cause Namjoon to coo, and dipping his head, he presses a tender kiss to your shoulder blade. The affectionate gesture has you faltering for a moment. Your eyes flutter shut at the soft sensation, a lone tear spilling out and trailing down your cheek. "It's okay, Princess. I'll give you what you want soon," he gently cajoles.
"W-When?" you question, a pout in your voice as you snivel.
"So impatient," he tuts. Then, pressing another kiss to your shoulder, "Soon," he promises. "But first... tell me, Princess. How many times have you begged me to let you cum tonight?" he asks. You still at his question, your eyebrows furrowing.
"I-I don't know," you answer honestly. Namjoon exhales in amusement.
"Do you want me to tell you how many times?" he asks. The devilish intonation of his voice has a ripple of anxiousness welling up inside of you. Still, you nod your head. "Three times. You've begged me to let you cum three times tonight. Do you know what that means?" he questions. You pull your lower lip between your teeth and begin chewing on it before shaking your head no. "It means, I'm going to make you cum three times, Sweetheart. Once for each time you begged," he grins sadistically.
His promise has your stomach lurching in a mix of both excitement and concern. Wired beyond belief, and having been denied your orgasm twice already, you're more than ready to cum. In fact, you ache for it - your cunt viciously contracting around nothing. Yet, at the same time, you're unsure if you'd be able to withstand the unbridled pleasure of not just one, but three orgasms. Especially, if they're three consecutive orgasms. Even by yourself, when you were left wanting by Minhyuk and you'd turned to your own fingers, you'd only ever gotten to two before overstimulation overtook you. Thus, the thought of three orgasms has you faltering. But, even as the trepidation ripples through you, you can't help the way your stomach knots in anticipation.
You want it.
"Please," you breathlessly whisper.
“That’s my good cockslut,” Namjoon praises. Then, dropping his hand to his cock, he grips the shaft at the base. Free hand dropping to rest at the base of your spine, he pushes on the small of your back. The gesture forces your ass to stick out, your legs automatically splaying further apart to find a more comfortable positioning. Namjoon hums in approval, and with your thighs spread open, he drags his cockhead through your puffy folds. Crying out in pleasure, your head falls forward; your hips instinctively squirming on top of him.
Mouth falling open in a silent moan, “Sir, want it,” you mumble, your hips swivelling in a circle. Moving over him, you drag your slit across the velvet head of his cock, trying to position it at your aching entrance. With every second that passes, your walls throb tortuously - the emptiness of them only intensifying as Namjoon continues teasingly dragging his head through your folds. When his tip catches on your entrance, your entrance rippling around him involuntarily, you both gasp.
His eyes fixated on where his cock strokes through your cunt, Namjoon simply watches. Thick, filmy strings of your arousal drip from your pussy - dropping in the air and over his hand and cock in dense ropes. Every time he swipes his head through your slit, you release another gush of wetness - until his entire shaft is coated in your arousal. The stickiness of your sex is only aided further by his own wetness - his precum gathering in thick globs around his slit, and with every drag, he only coats your cunt in his arousal.
“Fucking hell, you’re so fucking messy. Look down, Princess, look at how your needy cunt soaks my cock,” Namjoon urges. With a keening mewl, your gaze drops to between your thighs, where his cock presses against your pussy.
Gripping his cock harder, he positions it at your clit—and when you feel him press his head against your throbbing, engorged bud—you can’t help but let out a strangled cry. Namjoon lets out a low hiss, the hardened bundle of nerves throbbing intoxicatingly against his slit. The surreptitious motion stimulates his cock, causing more of his precum to leak out. Moaning in ecstasy, you feel your throat tighten when his warm arousal drips over your clit, coating the swollen bud in more of his stickiness. Squirming over him, you begin rocking your clit against his tip, dragging it back and forth as you try to stimulate yourself.
“That’s it, be a good cockslut and rub that pretty little cunt over me. Get it nice and wet so I can fuck open your wet pussy,” Namjoon orders. Mewling in pleasure, you do as he says, repeatedly grinding your throbbing bud into his oozing cockhead. Agonisingly, the entrance to your cunt quivers - your entire sex weeping for him to fill you up.
Muscles erratically twitching, “Fuck me,” you gasp out. Namjoon only hums noncommittally, moving both hands to grip at your hips.
“Hmmm, I don’t think you’re ready. I don’t think you want it enough,” Namjoon purrs - the low vibrations of his voice shooting straight to your core. Shaky breaths falling from your lips, you squirm harder on top of him.
“I do! I want it so bad. Sir, please, fuck me. Want to feel your cock in me,” you croon desperately. Dark chuckles resounding through the air, the sound heavy with dominance, Namjoon positions his cock at your entrance. Feeling him press his cock against your entrance—just enough to tease, but not enough to penetrate you—you sob out in pleasure. Responsively, the tight rings of muscles clench - trying to pull him further into you.
Laughingly lowly, “God, I can feel your tight little cunt clenching. Are you desperate for cock, Princess?” Namjoon asks - the inflexion of his voice dripping with taunt.
“Yes. Yes. Want it,” you reply unhesitantly. Pressing his cock harder against your entrance, Namjoon grips your hips tightly, preventing you from sinking his cock into you. Desirous whines and whimpers fall from your lips - tears stinging your eyes as Namjoon continues to tease you. Every passing moment has the heat in your stomach growing wilder and wilder—until wanton hunger courses through your bloodstream—overtaking your entire being.
“Are you sure, Princess? What about Minhyuk? What will your fiancé think when he finds out I ruined this tight cunt?” Namjoon coos, the taunt heavy in your voice.
From the deep recesses of your mind, your morality rears its ugly head. You know this is wrong. Despite everything, you know you're engaged to someone else. But, you don't care. You simply can't bring yourself to care - because your relationship had been a farce from the start, and Minhyuk has been cheating on you for god knows how long. So, for tonight, you squash that voice. For one night, you want to forget the responsibilities, the commitments, the expectations, all of which have weighed you down for the entirety of your life. For one night, you simply want Namjoon to fuck you - to give you everything you've been craving, and so much much.
“Don’t care- please. Please,” you gasp out, your hips once again squirming on top of him. Namjoon drops his head to your shoulder. Lips pressing against your flesh, he lavishes you with hot, open-mouthed kisses, his teeth intermittently grazing your skin. His action draws a hoarse cry from deep within your throat - your voice cracking for a moment.
“Are you sure, Princess? Once I fuck you, there's no going back. I'm going to carve the shape of my cock into you. Push it in as deep as it can go and split your sweet, tight little cunt around me until I'm all you can feel. Until I'm all you know." His licentious promises cause your already laboured breaths to turn even more ragged, your thighs shaking as your knees buckle in anticipation. "I'm going to ruin you for Minhyuk, Princess; defile your cunt and fuck it so hard, that no one else will be able to satisfy you; that if you fuck anyone else, all you'll think of is me, and how good my cock is,” Namjoon warns. The melliferous intonation of his voice is ripe with carnal need, and pleasure thrums through your being, his words shooting straight to your core.
“I don’t care. God, I don't fucking care. Ruin me. Defile me. Fuck me. Please, Sir, just fuck me," you respond.
You feel Namjoon smirk against your shoulder - and then suddenly, he’s pushing your hips down. Feeling the intense pressure of his flared cockhead against your entrance, your mouth drops open in a silent scream. Namjoon was right, you weren’t ready for him - because even with how wet you are, he still struggles to push his cockhead into you. Nonetheless, unrelentingly, Namjoon presses into you—his hands pushing you down onto his cock—and eventually, he pops into you.
The moment his head breaches your walls - your forehead drops to the cold metal railing and your mouth falls open, a strangle wail emitting from it.
He’s incredibly thick inside you, to the point the ringed muscles of your cunt are pulled thin around the absurd girth of his cockhead. God, was it even possible for someone to be this thick? It was near inhuman. Eyes slipping shut, you moan in a mix of pain and pleasure, relishing in the delicious burn of him stretching you out. Ceaselessly, he pushes into you—the soft of your inner walls opening around his hard length—his pace slow, and deliberate, forcing you to feel every centimetre of his length. Long, agonising moments later, his length is still burrowing into you, and when you feel your walls spread to the point of your limit, you let out another cry.
Nevertheless, Namjoon refuses to stop. Instead, thick inch by thick inch, he fucks his cock into you; refusing to stop until he’s buried into the hilt. A feat you think is impossible. Because, if the ridiculous circumference of his cock wasn't enough, he just had to be unreasonably long as well. Is this what they meant when they said someone was 'hung like a horse'? Surely, it had to be.
All of a sudden, Namjoon roughly pulls your hips onto him, the abrupt thrust sinking the last few inches into you in one swift movement. Finally buried hilt-deep into your cunt—his hips slapping against your ass—he lets out a hiss, a strangled cry falling from your own lips. With how deep he's buried, the blunt crown of his cockhead pressed flush against the soft walls of your cervix, a dull ache settles within your abdomen. You feel almost sick from how deep he is inside you, his insane size doing nothing to settle the nausea. Despite your queasiness, however, pleasure consumes you - the veined ridges of his cock hitting every erogenous spot inside your cunt.
As soon as the blunt tip of his cockhead hits the back of your supple cervix, a high-pitched wail tears through you. Toes curling, your thighs begin trembling violently as you suddenly cum around his cock. Back contorting violently, your nails scratch the bannister as you sob out his name. Orgasm rocketing through you out of the blue, you vehemently convulse over Namjoon. Over and over again, you cry out his name, twisting and contorting as blinding ecstasy courses through you. It’s been so long since you’ve had a decent orgasm, and paired with the way Namjoon has edged you tonight, the intensity of your first one has tears stinging at your eyes.
“Fucking whore. Did you just cum from my cock entering you? Fuck- you got so much tighter,” Namjoon harshly grunts out. You only babble unintelligibly in response. Not wasting another moment, Namjoon begins fucking into you from behind. Gripping at your hips, he rams his cock upward, pulling you down harshly onto him. With each motion, your own orgasm is drawn out - making you cry out his name loud, your eyes rolling back into your skull.
Cunt rippling around him, you begin milking his cock - Namjoon forcing into your erratically tightening and untightening walls over and over again. Viciously, you continue convulsing as you cum over him - Namjoon groaning when thick rivulets of your cum begin flowing down his cock. The additional wetness adds to the mess between your thighs and only aids his motions - his cock slippery enough to batter into you.
Through it all, you let the tide of your orgasm wash through you, drifting on its wave of euphoria as it drowns you in nothing but utter, unadulterated ecstasy. Reduced to a sobbing, quivering mess, you heave for air as you try to satiate the burn in your lungs. Incessantly, however, Namjoon fucks into you - refusing to give you any reprieve from his cock. Slowly coming down from your high, you whine as you feel the blunt head of his cock spear you. His thrusts are forceful; your body jerking up and down over him, your abdomen pushing harder and harder into the metal railing. With every movement, your fists wring around the bannister - wanting to turn around and sink your nails into his shoulders instead. Instead, you settle for rocking your hips, your cunt clenching rhythmically around him.
“Cock hungry slut,” Namjoon spits out, a throaty growl emanating from his chest as he feels your pussy try to swallow his cock further into it.
Planting his feet firmly on the ground, Namjoon anchors himself before he somehow begins moving his hips even harder. His pace is hard and fast - his cock surging through you at a startling pace. Between the brutal plunges of his cock into your warm depths, the way his cockhead drags against every one of your erogenous zones, and how his balls slap against your clit, you feel the wave of euphoria cloud your being once again. Slowly losing yourself into the sheer, unadulterated bliss of Namjoon’s actions, your thighs begin trembling as white-hot heat prickles along your spine.
Unable to hold back any longer, you let out a strangled sob and begin cumming around Namjoon’s cock for a second time. Feeling your cunt walls clamp viciously around his length, Namjoon lets out a deep growl - but continues to thrust his shaft into your tightening depths. Each drive of his hips draws out your orgasm - forcing wave after wave of bliss to cascade through your being and wash you away into the haze of euphoria. On the back of your first orgasm, the pain of overstimulation grapples at your nerves, and you cry out his name. A stinging heat ripples through your cunt and you weep out his name.
"S-Sir, too much. Fuck, t-too m-much," you stammeringly sob.
“Take it, Princess. You begged me to cum, so now cum,” Namjoon hisses through grit teeth - his cock still pumping inside you.
Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, the overwhelming ecstasy flooding your nerves and sending you spiralling into delirium. Breath laboured, you whine and cry as Namjoon continues thrusting into you - the aftershocks of your last orgasm still rippling through you. It's almost too much, and as you curl into yourself, you feel your knees buckle from the euphoria. However, within moments, the oversensitivity settles - and its consequent pain dissipates. With pleasure flooding you once again, you suck in a deep breath and steady yourself. Hearing your breath even out, your overstimulated cries morphing into ragged moans, Namjoon smirks.
"Open your eyes, Princess," comes his soft order. Internally wondering when they'd shut, you do as he commands. As soon as you blink your eyes open, however, your body stiffens. Because, instantly, your gaze lands on a patron of the bar, your stares meeting despite the distance between you. Humiliation washes through you, vermeil heat staining the tips of your ears. Throat drying at the thought of being caught, you swallow thickly - the constricting muscles causing you to choke instead.
"S-Someone's watching," you stammer. Namjoon hums in question before looking over your shoulder. Though, when he spots the person watching you both, he simply chuckles. Slowing his pace down, he begins thrusting into you in long, slow strokes - the velvet hardness surging into you hilt-deep, before pulling out till just the tip is buried inside. Between his deliberate thrusts and the dull sensitivity of your inner walls, you're forced to feel every inch of his cock, the sensation causing you to moan.
"Do you want to stop?" he questions, even as he continues sheathing himself inside of you. You know you should. You've been caught - someone is currently watching Namjoon fuck you, in public. Yet, even as mortification engulfs your being, you find ripples of excitement course through you - the juxtaposing feelings blurring together and causing your cunt to tighten around Namjoon. All of a sudden, Namjoon stills.
"Wait. Is this turning you on?" he questions, surprise clearly evident in his voice. Your breath hitches, and as another wave of embarrassment washes through you, you bite your lips. As though sensing your hesitation to answer, Namjoon's eyes widen. "Fucking hell. It is turning you on, isn't it?" he laughs, the sound low and rough. "What a filthy fucking exhibitionist whore," he hisses.
In one, abrupt drive, Namjoon sheaths the entirety of his cock into you before halting. When the blunt crown of his steely cockhead rams into the supple walls of your cervix, you cry out, your head falling back. Once again, a deep ache blooms within your abdomen, a familiar sense of nausea filling you a second time that night as he fills you up completely. In a bid to alleviate the sensation, as well as resume his rough thrusts, you begin squirming your hips. Nevertheless, Namjoon's grip on your hips tightens, his hold keeping your ass flush against his lower abdomen as he revels in the way your cunt mercilessly quivers around his shaft.
"Does them watching you turn you on, Princess? Are you getting off on the way they can see you filled with my cock? The way they watch me fuck this tight, wet little hole open? Do you want them to watch me leave it gaping, and sloppy with my cum? Hmmm, Princess? Is that what you want?" Each sentiment drips from his lips lecherously, the words purposely laden with salacious lust and his voice deliberately low. They cause you to whimper, your pussy inadvertently clamping down on his cock. Humiliation rippling through you, you stammer - unable to bring yourself to confirm his words. "You don't need to answer, Sweetheart. I know you do. Your cunt just tightened around me," he chuckles.
All of a sudden, Namjoon spanks your ass, the action forcing a sob through your mouth. "How about we put on a show, hmm?" he smirks. Anticipation trickles through you and you swallow thickly. Whatever his game is, you're sure it's going to be something filthy. "I'm going to fuck you again. But this time, you're going to stare directly at the person watching you," Namjoon asserts. You exhale sharply, your abdomen quivering at the thought. "You've already cum twice, which means you have to cum once more. But, you can only cum if you're staring at them. If you look away for whatever reason, I'll cum inside you and leave you like that," he continues in a warning.
His rules cause your mind to haze with pleasure. Undoubtedly, they're humiliating, and demeaning - the thought of someone watching you getting fucking causing mortification to flood your stomach. Nonetheless, at the same time, it stokes something inside you, something baser and more carnal. When you don't say anything, Namjoon presses his lips to the base of your neck in a soft kiss. "What's your safeword, love?" he asks.
"R-Red," you respond easily. Namjoon hums in approval.
"Do you need to use it?" he checks. Again, you go quiet. You know he's giving you an out, allowing you to deny his orders in case he was pushing you too far. Except, he's not. It's not like you don't want him to fuck you as a stranger watches you. It's just that you're not used to it; you've never experienced anything like this, and that makes you feel a little nervous. But, despite your inexperience, as well as the humiliation of being caught in what is typically a private act, you find yourself growing warm with excitement and lust. Biting your lip, you shake your head.
"No, I'm okay," you verbally affirm. Then, before he can say anything, you gather the dregs of your courage. "Please fuck me. I want them to watch as I cum on your cock," you timidly articulate, your shyness winning over towards the end of your statement. Behind you, Namjoon lets out a deep, guttural groan.
"God, you're so fucking filthy. So fucking perfect," he praises. His words cause your heart to swell, a warm fuzziness swiftly replacing your nervousness. But, before you can dwell on them, he's pulling his cock out of you, only to plunge it in once again. The both of you hiss at the action, Namjoon from how impossible tight you are, and you from how large he is, even though you should be used to his size by now. Spanking your ass once again, "Ride me," he orders.
With shaky knees, you flex your thighs, using the leverage of your weight to bounce your ass onto his cock. Your movement is slow, your pussy pulsing rhythmically around his shaft as you ride him. Each time his cock impales you, you feel the ridges of his cock drag against your sensitive inner walls, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Sensitivity still grips at your sex, the ache of overstimulation only turning you on more as you stare at the nameless stranger below. With a swivel of your hips, you bring yourself down onto his cock harder - both of you gasping when the motion causes his cockhead to slam against the back walls of your pussy.
Between the distance from the main level of the bar and the overhanging balcony, you can't make out the features of your voyeur. Yet, you can tell just how engrossed they are in your movements, their back lounging against the expensive seats as they casually sip their drink - undoubtedly enjoying the sight of you and Namjoon fucking. Despite your earlier anxiousness, you soon find yourself growing used to their stare and growing bolder—the pleasure of Namjoon's vascularised hardness dragging against your erogenous zones bolstering your confidence—you bounce your ass harder and faster.
Losing yourself in your ecstasy, “H-Harder. W-want you to f-fuck me h-harder,” you breathlessly stutter out. He's already so deep inside of you that there's an intense pressure building in the back of your abdomen, the soft walls of your cervix smarting from the constant battering. Still, though, it's not enough.
“Harder? You want it harder?” Namjoon asks, causing you to hastily nod. Throat tight, you can barely force out the words. Rather, you push your hips harder into his - undulating them over his cock. Namjoon grunts when you tighten around him again. “Fuck, you really are an exhibitionist slut. I can't believe being watched is turning you on this much. Fuck... Hold on then, I’m going to fucking ruin you,” Namjoon heaves out.
Eyes rolling into the back of your skull, “Please, want it,” you mumble out - white spots already blinding your vision again.
“Oh, I know you do, Princess," Namjoon grins, his hips moving to draw his cock out of you. Again, your throat tightens - your toes curling in pleasure as he purposely, vehemently, drags his head against your sweet spot.
With a mewl, “Want to cum again,” you slur out. Namjoon only chuckles at that.
“Remember, Sweetheart, if you want to cum, you have to watch them. Or you don’t cum at all,” Namjoon reminds you. Then, one hand gripping your hip, the other curling around your waist, Namjoon pulls you flush against him. Using your weight to brace himself, he increases his pace. Viciously he slams into you from underneath, the thick of his girth spreading your soft, sensitive walls around his cock with each rapid stroke. Immediately, your mouth falls open as you begin wailing out his name.
Between your abdomen pressing against the railing, and Namjoon's body weighing you down, you find your body roughly bouncing under him—jolted up and down onto his cock—as he uses you in the way you had asked for. Hips surging into you from above, he batters your cunt - the ringed muscles releasing another gush of wetness. Euphoria tingles at your spine, your entire body heating as you feel your second orgasm thrum through you. However, without any stimulation to your clit - you can’t bring yourself to cum.
Instead, you teeter over the edge - your orgasm practically taunting you with every one of Namjoon's deep, hard thrusts. With the friction of his trousers rubbing against the bottom of your bare thighs, and the way his cock repeatedly plunges into your silken depths, tears of pleasure sting your eyes. You sob out his name - the ecstatic bliss of euphoria causing you to grow mad with lust. You’re so close - but you know you can’t cum. Not without his permission - and definitely not without him playing with your clit.
“S-Sir, want to c-cum,” you croon out, your voice hoarse and raspy.
"Are you still watching them?" he questions. You swiftly nod your head.
"What are they doing?" he questions. Through tear-blurred eyes, you hone in on the stranger again - your gaze having turned unfocused from the euphoria Namjoon mercilessly reaps onto your body.
"They're... They're watching me," you respond, your words broken by a dry sob. Somehow, you notice the strange move, one of their hands moving to brush against their crotch over their trousers. The sight of them touching themselves has you mewing. "I-I think they're trying to touch themselves," you continue.
"Mmmm. I bet they are," he responds. Warm lips brush against your ear, the ghost-like touch causing a shiver to run down your spine. "I bet they're jealous, Princess. I bet they wish they were being fucked like this. Or that they were fucking you like this," Namjoon taunts. Each word causes euphoria to nip at the edges of your being, your stomach viciously twisting into knots as your orgasm threatens to break over you.
"P-Please," you breathe heavily.
"Please what?" he urges.
"P-Please play with my c-clit. Wanna cum," you almost babble, your words quickly turning garbled. Despite your pleading, you almost expect him to deny you once again. Nonetheless, to your utter surprise, Namjoon's hand slips around your hips and down your stomach. Then, deft hand pushing between your thighs, his slender fingers dance over your clit. The bundle of nerves pulsates harshly, and you jerk when electric pleasure runs along your nerves. “F-Fuck,” you weep as you feel him play with the hypersensitive bud.
“Cum for me, Princess,” Namjoon compels. As he speaks, he pulls out of you, his cock retreating from your velvet depths completely, only for him to slam fully back into you. His abrupt plunge has you crying out, and fingers tightening around the railing, you sob in ecstasy.
Abruptly, the knot within your stomach snaps, and after a rush of relief surges through you, you careen off of the precipice of your orgasm. Vehemently, your thighs quake, your toes curling simultaneously as your skin flashes with heat - white-hot pleasure prickling over your flesh. Mouth falling open, you wail out his name as violently tremble under him. Rapturous bliss ricochets through you and within moments you dive headfirst into your orgasm.
Throughout it all, Namjoon's fingers expertly, and rapidly, stroke your clit - his agile digits playing with the furiously throbbing bud. The actions draw out your orgasm, the telltale stings of oversensitivity swelling through your sex and causing you to wail his name - the sound coming out inarticulate and garbled. Suddenly, something within you breaks and a huge rush of relief floods through you, the sense of reprieve coalescing with your euphoria. Withdrawing into yourself, you float away from reality as the high of your orgasm consumes you wholly.
Over you, Namjoon feels powerful jets of cum squirt out of you - the wetness pelting against his thighs and soaking the material of his slacks. Feeling you gush around his cock, Namjoon grits his teeth. Through the overwhelming haze of your climax, you feel Namjoon's cock pulsate inside you—the rhythm falling out of place—and when he swells with a throb, you whine.
“Fuck- I’m cumming. You're going to take my cum like a good girl, aren't you, Princess? Let me fill up this tight, pretty little cunt with my seed? Fuck- I know you will. You'll take my cum so good. Such a good little cocksleeve,” Namjoon praises as he pushes harder into you. You only vaguely register his words, but somehow grasping their meaning, you limply nod your head
All of a sudden, he pulls you down with one, fluid motion. The action has him burying his cock as deep as he can into you, and you find yourself gasping for air, his blunt cockhead pushing deep against your cervix - almost painfully. Namjoon grinds his cock into you, using your cunt to sheath the entirety of his length: from tip to shaft, and with a low roar, he begins cumming.
His cock pulsates inside you, growing large as it twitches, releasing stringy rope after rope of his cum into you. With each throb of his cock, your walls squeeze around him, effectively milking the shaft for every bit of his cum. His seed floods your depths, and with how deep he is inside of you, it splashes against your battered cervix, dousing it in his warmth. Feeling him fill you up, you mewl his name and savour the sensation.
Drifting down from both your highs, the two of you pant for air, both your throats parched. The two of you simply stay like that for a few moments, Namjoon sheathed in your cunt as you attempt to catch your breaths. Eventually, when his cock turns flaccid, Namjoon carefully pulls it out of you, your body involuntarily flinching as your sensitive walls ache from the movement. The moment he's out of you, Namjoon's cum begins dripping out of your cunt, the hole loosened from his sheer girth - just as he'd promised. Meanwhile, your head slowly clears, the fog of your orgasm dissipating as you cum to your senses.
Behind you, Namjoon's hand drops to your ass, and pressing his thumbs into the cheeks, he pulls them apart, his gaze immediately dropping to your tumescent pussy. Seeing the rivulet of his white seed dribble out of you, he lets out a low groan. "Fuck, that's so hot. Squeeze your cunt and push it out, Sweetheart," he orders. His words have heat crawling up your neck, but letting out a high-pitched whine, you do as he says. Namjoon watches the way your gaping hole twitches, the walls attempting to close around themselves as you squeeze the muscles. Their movement forces more of his cum out of you and watching a thick glob spill from the entrance, his chest rumbles in pleasure.
Suddenly, you feel him swipe something through your sloppy cunt, and looking down, you see a skimpy piece of red lace in his hands. Your eyes widen as you realise they're your panties - Namjoon using them to clean up the mess between your thighs. Swiftly, you attempt to turn around and grab them back from him. Nonetheless, the motion causes your knees to buckle under your own weight, your limbs turning to jelly from your earlier ministrations. Before you can flop to the floor, however, Namjoon's strong arms quickly wrap around your waist and catch you.
"Give them back," you grumble, your hands moving to grab the—now stained—fabric from the man, only to wince when your throat strains under the sound.
"Nope, I'm keeping them," he replies, his lips curling into a devilish, lop-sided smirk as he looks down at you. Despite the heat that tinges the tips of your ears, you huff. Bending down—your high heels somehow doing nothing for the height difference between you—Namjoon brushes his lips against your temple. "If you want to be really good for me, you'll let me keep them," he murmurs. The gravelly sound of his voice has your stomach flipping, your cunt inadvertently clenching, causing another gush of his cum to trickle out of you.
"B-But... there's... cum everywhere. It'll drip out as I walk," you mumble in response, your voice lowering as you practically whisper the word 'cum'. The corners of Namjoon's mouth only twist into a wider grin, his teeth wolfishly flashing between the seam of his lips as his eyes glint mischievously.
"Exactly. You'll be good and walk out of here with our cum dripping down your thighs, won't you, Sweetheart?" Namjoon gently coaxes. As he speaks, his fingers gently caress your hips, his thumb tracing lazy circles into the material of your dress. Pulling your lip between your teeth, you chew it while contemplating his request, and eventually, against your better judgement, you nod your assent.
"That's my good girl," Namjoon coos, his head bending to place a soft kiss onto your forehead. Reflexively, your eyes flutter shut, your heart clenching at the tender action. Then, brushing his mouth against your hairline, "Turn around, I'll zip you back up," he murmurs. Nodding your head, you do as he says, Namjoon gently refastening your dress. As his hands redo the metal links, his fingers graze your skin, the light touch causing goosebumps to prickle at your skin. For a moment, you relish in the action, the sensation mixing with that of his soft breath fanning the back of your neck.
Nonetheless, before you can truly lose yourself to them, "How are you getting home?" Namjoon gently prods. The moment the words slip from his voluptuously tempting lips, a sense of sadness floods you - the sudden revelation that your tryst is ending filling you. Somehow, within Namjoon's presence, and between your actions tonight, you had forgotten about Minhyuk and your engagement. Or more, you had pushed it far into the back of your mind. Now, however, as your time with Namjoon slowly comes to a close, you're once again reminded of your unhappy relationship.
As the thought flits in your head, you pause for a moment, a small frown marring your visage. When did it become an unhappy relationship? It hadn't always been unhappy. You'd been somewhat content, and most definitely comfortable, for the vast majority of it. Yet, all of a sudden, it had changed. Why? How? Was it because of your discovery? Because of Minhyuk's cheating? Or was it because of the stranger you had chanced upon tonight - one who had shown you a pleasure you had never before known? One who had shown you more tenderness in a single night than your fiancé had in a whole four years you'd been together?
The thought has a sense of uncertainty filling you, but rather than dwelling on it, you brush it off. Instead, "I'll have to call a taxi," you quietly respond to Namjoon. Finished with zipping you up, Namjoon delicately turns you back to face him.
"Hmm. It's late into the night and you're on your own. I'll have my driver take you home instead," Namjoon replies. For a moment, you want to refute his offer. He's far too sweet, far too considerate, to the point that it causes your heart to ache. Yet, another part of you eagerly accepts. You don't want to part with him. Not yet.
With your acquiescence, Namjoon's hand instinctively falls to the small of your back before he's leading you back towards the stairs and down towards the bar. As you both sneak out from the balcony and back towards the main level, you feel your stomach roil. Furtively, Namjoon leads you towards the exit, somehow the patrons unaware of your illicit activities. Well, that was for everyone except the one who had caught you both. Nonetheless, as you head out of the door, you refuse to look around, lest you find the voyeur.
Once you're out into the night, a sudden rush of cool air hits you; the crisp night air a pleasant sensation against your still heated skin. Feeling you shiver, Namjoon pulls you further into his side, the action coming wholly natural to him. You watch as he pulls his phone out before dialling a number. It doesn't take long for his chauffeur to answer, the driver probably having waited for Namjoon's call. Their conversation is short, Namjoon letting them know to come to pick you both up, as well as the address of the bar. Then, he quickly bids the person goodbye before ending the call.
After that, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. Typically, you would try to fill the air with some light conversation. However, the events of the night had finally taken a toll on you, and between venting to Namjoon and then being fucked thoroughly by him, you find your energy quickly dissipating. As though sensing your tiredness, Namjoon wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his body. On instinct, your head falls into his chest, your eyes slipping shut as the contours of your body easily meld into his; as though two jigsaw pieces perfectly slotting into one another.
Relishing in the strong, defined musculature of his body, your eyes slip shut as you feel exhaustion settle into your bones. Slowly, your breathing deepens, the scent of Namjoon’s spiced-earthen scent flooding your senses and calming you even further. You don’t know how long you wait there, Namjoon simply holding you in his comforting embrace, but just before you can slip off to sleep, you feel him softly kiss the column of your neck.
“The driver is here,” he murmurs, his voice purposely soft so as to not disturb you. Opening your eyes, you watch as a sleek, black business limousine pulls up in front of you. Within moments, the driver exits the vehicle, only to head to the back and open the doors. Namjoon places his hand on the small of your back once again before gently leading you into the car, the driver shutting the door when you’re both safely inside.
“Where to, Sir?” the chauffeur asks, Namjoon turning to you expectantly. Swiftly, you give the driver your address, the man nodding in response before letting you know it’ll be about a short, fifteen-minute drive. Apparently, your apartment was closer to the bar than you’d thought. Though, you expect the drive is considerably shortened by the fact that the streets are barren. Thus, settling into the seat and Namjoon’s side, you set your eyes on the window and watch as the landscape slowly blurs by.
Soon, you start recognising the streets and buildings and realising you’re closing in on the residential area in which you reside, you sit up. The sudden movement from his side has Namjoon turning to you, his eyebrow raising. “We’re almost there,” you reply. For a fleeting moment, something unknown colours Namjoon’s eyes, an inkling of something dull obscuring his usually bright, poignant eyes. Before you can make it out, it dissipates. Though, if you didn’t know better, you’d say it was sadness or disappointment.
Before long, the driver pulls up to your apartment building, and as you stare at the tall, opulent skyscraper, your stomach drops to the pit of your abdomen. You’d have to leave Namjoon any moment now.
“Is Minhyuk going to be waiting for you?” he carefully questions. Once again reminded of your fiancé, you let out a deep sigh, only to then shake your head.
“It’d honestly be completely unexpected if he is,” you bitterly respond. Hearing the mordant nature of your reply, Namjoon reaches out for your hand. Intertwining his fingers into yours, his thumb brushes against the back of your hand in consolation.
“What are you going to do about him?” he asks. You pull the flesh of your inner cheeks between your molars and chew on it before shrugging.
“I… I don’t know,” you honestly whisper. After a brief pause, “I don’t want to disappoint my parents,” you confess. Namjoon tuts at your answer.
“Love, if your parents love and care for you, they’ll want you to be happy,” comes his gentle response.  “Moreover, as your parents, they should support you, not force you into a relationship you don’t want. Don’t stick around in an engagement where you’re unhappy,” he continues. Gnawing at the inside of your cheek harder, you nod your head. When you don’t say anything else, Namjoon sighs.
Shuffling closer to you, he cups your cheek within his palm and delicately lifts your face to look at him. Brushing his thumb over the curve of your lip, he looks down at you tenderly. “I mean it, Sweetheart. You deserve to be happy,” he murmurs.
“Thank you,” you mumble, your heart fluttering at his words. Namjoon smiles, and as his dimples indent, your face softens, your chest aching at the sight. For one final time that night, you trace the features of his face. The way his silver hair turns lustrous under the moonlight, the way his obsidian eyes twinkle as though they contain the very galaxies themselves, the voluptuous curves of his rosy-brown lips. You commit it all to memory, never wanting to forget him, or this night, for the rest of your life.
As you carve his beauty into your mind, Namjoon leans down, his face slowly closing the distance between you. Immediately, your breath hitches, and when his lips delicately press against the corner of yours in the softest, sweetest of kisses, you feel your heart shatter. “Goodnight, my love,” he whispers.
He doesn’t say goodbye. But, you know that’s exactly what he means. Because you doubt you’ll ever see him again. You doubt you’ll ever feel his lips on yours again, or have his arms wrap around your body again.
Closing your eyes and taking a deep, shaky breath, you nod your head. “Goodnight,” comes your near broken response.
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a/n: WHEW! GOD I DID NOT MEAN FOR THIS TO BE 21K BUT JFNREOIGNEOGINEOIGNEOIN it is what it is 😖 i hope you enjoyed that!! liking is for chumps so pls don’t forget to reblog and comment 😎♡
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moonchild1 · a month ago
 kim namjoon fic rec list (Ⅰ)
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here's a list of my favourite namjoon fics, please show lots of love and support to these wonderful authors and their blogs, some of these fics contain smut so no minors allowed ♡
a- angst s- smut f- fluff ❣- ultimate favourite
july kiss by @personasintro f s (dilf namjoon idiots to lovers au) ❣
prohibido by @personasintro f s a (brother's best friend au) ❣
fool for you by @cutechim s a (rebound au hospital au unrequited love au)
try again by @bangtanfancamp f s (roommate au best friend to lovers au)
it's december (and I still want) by @smoochkooks f s a (ex husband au)
more than anything else by @seokkgenie f s a (CEO au)
there was a bug @kimnjss f s a (roommate au best friend to lovers au) ❣
nothing like us by @jiminimoon s a (ex boyfriend namjoon) ft. fuck boy jungkook ❣
the rich man's crochet club by @kpopfanfictrash s (virgin au college au) ❣
spilling coffee by @bts-roses f a (idol au intern reader)
dizzy by @joonessence f s (friends to lovers au) ❣
promise by @joheun-saram f s a (college au roommate au enemies to friends to lovers au) ❣
to make a power couple by @joheunsaram f s a (idol au ceo reader) ❣
daisies and dinosaurs by @dark-muse-iris f s a (single father au)
intro: her by @jamaisjoons f s a (single dad au strangers to friends to lovers au) ❣
a sight for sore eyes by @siderealmyg f s (established relationship au)
good to me by @httpjeon f s a (dating service au)
what are friends for by @kookdiaries s (best friends au friends to lovers au)
out of my league by @ppersonna f s a (office au) ❣
promises by @jeonsweetheart f s a (marriage au infidelity au idol au) ❣
the bodyguard by @rmnamjoons f s a (bodyguard au fake dating/marriage au) ❣
the father, the son and the holy whore by @taesinferno s (dilf namjoon infidelity au) ❣
nice guys finish last by @ktheist f s a (arranged marriage au) ft. Ex fiance Yoongi
cyanide on my bedsheets by @jimilter s a (friends with benefits au unrequited love) ❣
partners by @btssmutgalore s a (friends to lovers au slow burn) ❣
dimples by @sweetmisery f s (idol au friends with benefits friends to lovers au) ❣
after rain by @rmverse​ f s a (patient namjoon patient reader)
once upon an us by @yoonia​ f s a (inspired by the movie sweet home alabama past lovers au exes to lovers au established relationship) ❣
bothered by @lavienjin f s a (brother's best friend)
sincerely, but no longer yours by @ttttaehyungie s a (exes au) ❣
lavender honey by @oftenderweapons f s a (chaebol au friends to friends with benefits to enemies to lovers au)
2AM by @xpeachesncream f s (college au) ❣
black swan by @helenazbmrskai s a (co-workers to friends to lovers tattoo artist joon) ❣
love is blind by @helenazbmrskai f s a (best friends brother au college au enemies to lovers au) ❣
ramen? by @solarwonux f s ❣
only a lifetime by @dopejk f s (dilf joon marriage au pregnancy au) ❣
emerald by @dewykth s a (bodyguard au)
love bytes by @stutterfly f s a (friends to lovers au slow burn)
spice by @breakiebunny f s a (enemies to lovers au chef joon)
new parent syndrome by @1kook f s (dilf joon husband au parents au) ❣
the perfect date by @suhdays f s (established relationship au)
flower cloud by @suhdays f a (soulmate au friends to lovers au college au)
hammer it home by @gukslut f s a (domestic au) ft. Jimin ❣
nailed it by @gukslut f s (hammer it home couple) ft. Jimin ❣
feels like home by @gukslut f s (hammer it home couple) ❣
a wrench in the plan by @gukslut f s (hammer it home couple) ❣
totally screwed by @gukslut f s (hammer it home couple) ❣
obligated by @underthejoon s (arranged marriage au) ❣
bass and strings by @jimlingss f (slow burn au slice of life college au music au)
letting go by @bangtan-babe f a (doctor au) ft. Jimin
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kimnjss · a month ago
surprise | knj + pjm
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⇢ pairing: ot7 x oc // namjoon/jimin focus. (pls someone find a gif of them from this epi) ⇢ genre: smut. // pwp. ⇢ word count: 8.9K ⇢ theme: established relationships. ⇢ rating: explicit. ⇢ warnings: cursing, dirty talk, poly relationship, panty sucking, fingering, oral sex (f/m), nipple play, finger sucking, unprotected sex (wrap it up lovelies),  , yn walking around with her cooter out, doggy, cum shot, somnophilia (she sucks him off while he’s asleep), face fucking, deep throat, squirting, cum inside, slight over stimulation if you squint. these people have no boundaries... ⇢ A/N: i nearly died twice writing this... let me know what you think !! (please don’t be a silent reader!) x
[ feel free to buy me a coffee! ]
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The plan was to surprise them. You were very careful when telling staff you were coming, making sure that none of them spilled the beans to one of the boys. You wanted it to be a surprise. And judging from the lack of texts to your phone the entire time they should be on their way, you're confident it would be.
You've been here for hours, hauling ass after a photoshoot of your own just to beat them here. Only half packed, but you had a strong feeling the lack of clothes in your suitcase wouldn't make much of a difference. Exploring the dramatically large set was what you spent most of your time doing. Until you settled for sitting by the pool scrolling through your phone for a few hours.
It was boring and ridiculously large without them and by the time the sun has set it has gotten hard to keep your eyes open. You had planned to be waiting in the living room for them, with enough room to shout out surprise(!) just as they entered the house. But curling up in one of these carefully prepared beds to snag a nap sounded much more appealing.
You choose randomly out of the seven rooms that were laid out for them, stripping out off your outside clothes and into a large shirt that you had stolen from Jin months ago. It no longer smelt like him and you were making a mental note to snag another one before you were leaving at the end of the week.
Sleep takes you a lot quicker than you expect, soft snores filling the room. You don't even realize how many hours have gone by. You sleep through Hoseok's shocked voice as he walks through the grounds and the six other equally surprised tones. All the way through them choosing their rooms.
It's not until you hear heavy footsteps entering the room you found yourself in do you budge. “What up, what up?” Namjoon. You can tell by the steps he takes and the sound of his voice. Roaming around his home for the next few days with no idea what's waiting for him in his bed. Fatigue still weighs you down, though, so you do very little to surprise him. Not at all moving from your original sleeping position.
Joon is stopping in his tracks the moment his eyes set on the seemingly asleep figure in his bed. Long dark curls splayed over his pillow, face turned away from him but he can tell just from the curve of the ass that it's you. Shirt bunched up at your hips and the panties you've got on leave very little to the imagination.
He's setting his crate of belongings down faster than imaginable, trying and failing at not being too loud just in case you're really asleep. Which deems itself to be useless, because he's quick to reach his hand out, pushing the hair out of your face so he can peer over at your face.
Your eyes are closed, but you're not asleep. Not snoring loudly in the way that you do. Even still he takes a moment to admire how pretty you look like this. Long lashes dusting over your incredibly high cheekbones, the cute slope of your nose, the thickness of your lips. Lips that he hasn't felt in God knows how long.
It's been really hectic and hanging out with you and the other guys (without having to clock in) was very low on his list. At least with the guys, he got to see them every day. But you, besides the five-minute FaceTime calls when your breaks matched, neither of them have seen you in weeks. And the fact that you were here? Pretending to sleep in his bed? It almost felt like he was the one dreaming and the fact that he knew he wasn't, skyrocketed this mini-vacation from a seven to a million.
His body seemed to move on its own. Soft kisses pressed against the side of your face while his hand slid down the curve of your back. “Sleeping?” His sweet breath brushes against your cheek and you feel the deepness of his voice all the way in your core. Eyes blinking open, you're instantly focusing on his dark ones.
They look tired, the way he always does. But happy. His hair is much shorter than you remember and he looks like he's gotten beefier. You needed to find a place to file a serious complaint because if this man got any bigger, you're sure you'd combust. His lips stretch into a pretty smile, catching the way you're staring at him.
And he's no longer trying to stop himself, hand sliding down the small of your back to meet the curve of your ass. Fingers flexing around a cheek and you swear you see his dick jump. “Awake?” He's kneading your fleshy bottom beneath his palm, pulling soft hums from your throat.
He watches as your eyes flutter, teeth peek out to scrape against your lip as you lift your ass toward his touch. Joon is leaning down to plant a wet kiss on your lips, just as his palm slips underneath the fabric of your panties. Long fingers teasing the end of your folds while his tongue rolls past your lips.
His kisses are sweet. Shifting so his arm is no longer supporting him, body laid flat on the sheet as his hand reaching to grasp the side of your face. He keeps a firm hand between your legs, switching from teasing your folds to gripping your ass. Your hands reaching out for something to grasp and settling on his shirt, clutching the fabric in your fists.
Breathy moans fall from your lips as he messily sucks your tongue into his mouth, teeth lightly grazing your lower lip. He can feel his cock stiffening just from the sounds you make, the feeling of your pussy dampening between his fingers. “You're fucking dripping,” He groans into your mouth, lips pushing sloppily against yours.
You try to angle your hips in a way that has his hands moving somewhere more useful, which grants you nothing but a mean chuckle from him. He keeps his wrist steady, more concerned with tugging at your lips with his teeth. And you can tell by the teasing brush of his fingers, he's just daring you to do something about it.
So you do.
With the hands you've got planted on his stomach, you're pushing him back. Joon moves easily, hand falling from beneath your panties and his back hitting the pillows. You catch a glimpse of his intrigued smile as you climb over him, a leg on either side of his hips and your ass pressed firmly against his crotch.
You're reaching for his choppy hair, ready to pull his head back to reveal more of his neck to you. But your fingers are slipping right out, strands too short to grip. “You cut off all your hair,” You say through a pout, hands reaching up to run through the longer hairs at the top.
“Mhm. Do you like it?” Head bobbing in an enthusiastic nod and a grin spreading over your features. “Mm, you look very sexy.” Joon was definitely the type to act like compliments, especially about his appearance, didn't phase him. But you knew better than anyone that he loved hearing he looked good.
Especially if it was coming from you. Blunt nails scratch at his scalp, effectively sending shivers down his spine. His eyes flutter closed, head lulling back to rest against the headboard while his tongue licks at his lower lip. He's got a loose grip on your hips, holding your body close to his as you play with his hair.
“It's very short, though. I've got nothing to grip while your tongue fucking me,” Joon lets out a soft chuckle, heavy eyes lifting to peek up at you. “Good. You're always ripping it out,” The smile on his face has got to be the prettiest you've seen, eyes hooded and dimples showing. 
Your nose bumps against his cheek as you lean down toward his neck. “I think you're the one to blame for that,” You're mumbling and he's letting out another laugh, head tilting back to reveal more of his neck to your greedy lips. Your mouth immediately finds the sensitive areas, tongue attacking his clammy skin while his hands move from your hips onto your ass.
The lace of your panties is basically useless, wedged between the roundness of your ass and he can feel the heat of your pussy through his shorts perfectly. His cock hardens underneath you with each suck of your tongue, roughly squeezing your cheeks. He lets out low moans as your tongue continues its assault, successfully marking up his tanned skin.
His hips lift from the bed, confidently rolling up into yours. Smirking at the automatic way you react, gasping against his skin while your legs threaten to close around him. His bulge is straining against the zipper of his shorts and you can't help the way your body moves to grind down onto him. “Missed your big dick,” You're sighing, hips speeding up their movement until you're basically bouncing on his lap.
“Baby.” He hisses, pleasure shooting through his lower belly.
You look so good perched upon his lap. Swirling your hips this way and that, greedily using him to get yourself closer to your own release. Fingers buried in his hair and head tilted toward the ceiling. He can see the way your tits bounce beneath your shirt, nipples pressed against the material.
Joon's quick to lean in, tongue flattening on the hardened bud. A shiver runs down your spine at the feeling of the wet swipe of the muscle and you're moaning out when he's sucking it into his mouth. He doesn't stop until he's successfully created a wet circle in your white shirt and then he's moving on to the other side to do the same.
The sound of your whimpers goes straight to his dick, adding to the pleasure he feels from the slow way you move your hips. With a firm bite into your skin, he's leaning back dark eyes admiring his work. The front of your shirt soaked through where he can see your tits perfectly.
“Want you, Joon.” Legs spread a bit wider so you're able to feel his length right against your clit.
He's laughing at the desperation in your voice but complies anyway. Two firm hands on your hips and he's easily rolling your body off of his and onto your back. He's quick to slot himself between your legs, heavy cock pressed against your thigh. His hand slides down the front of your body, nestling itself between your legs.
You've soaked through your panties, his fingers easily finding your clit through the fabric. “Bet I'd just slide right in, huh?” Fingers rolling against the sensitive nub, a gush of arousal further dampening the material.
“P-please,” It's all you can manage through your panted moans, legs falling further apart. Hips lifting in hopes of nudging his hand closer to your entrance. He pulls it away altogether, a teasing grin playing on his lips. “Not yet, baby.” He says, leaning forward to cover your mouth with his.
This kiss is shorter than the last one, wet pecks trailing from your lips down the side of your neck. “Wanna taste your first,” He mumbles into your skin, dragging his mouth down the length of your body until his head is set between your legs, stomach laying flat on the sheets.
It's one thing to just feel how wet you were, but to actually see the way your pussy sticks to your panties was on a whole other level. The fabric is a darker shade of blue where you've soaked through, thighs glistening with your arousal. He doesn't hesitate for a moment when he's leaning in, strong arms wrapped around your thighs while his tongue begins licking up your juices.
Starting from the messy you've made on your thighs, Joon takes his time lapping it up, slowly making his way higher. He loves the way you squirm, whiny moans filling the room while you reach for his hair, gripping what you can in an attempt to pull him closer to your pussy.
He lets you move him closer, nose bumping against your clit. Dark eyes lift to find yours, so fucked out and dazed and he's barely done anything yet. It has him grinning, tongue dropping out to flatten out against you.
Your head sinks into the pillow, eyes rolling back as he sucks at your pussy through the drenched fabric. “Yes, fffuck,” Words coated in a sigh of relief, finally feeling the way the pleasure warms your core. Joon doesn't bother to remove your panties, sucking and licking at your pussy until the feel of the lace starts to irritate his skin. 
Even then, he doesn't do much to pull them off, tearing a hole in the center large enough to reveal your dripping cunt to his greedy eyes. And then he's diving right back in. Burying himself back between your legs, tongue licking into your folds with such fervor it pulls a surprised yelp from your lips.
He slurps lewdly at your pussy, the sound filling the room and nearly drowning out your wanton cries. It takes a lot of effort to lift your head, hooded eyes catching the sight of him between your legs. Eyes squeezed shut and nose pressed against your mound, tongue moving sloppily into you.
“Right there, shit!” Crying out as your hips lift, pushing closer to his face. His strong arm lays across your hips, holding your body down as his tongue dips into your entrance. The knot tightens in the pit of your stomach, sparks of pleasure spreading throughout your limbs. “J-joon...” You're panting, not sure how to form any other words.
Though, he pays you no mind either way. Mouth moving up to suck kisses into your clit while his fingers teasing your wet hole. Easily slipping two fingers past your walls, pushing into the knuckle. He watches the way you fall apart, back arched and hands groping at your chest. Jumbled speech and unfiltered curses falling from your lips.
His dick twitches, feeling the way your walls tighten around his fingers. “Gonna cum, baby?” Words murmured against your clit, sending a vibration throughout your entire core. All you can manage is a drawn-out squeal and a frantic nod of your head. Fingers tight in his hair, holding his head in place as your legs flail, hips jerk as cum leaks from your hole.
You're breaking the moment his fingers brush against the rough patch buried inside of you, a loud cry erupting from your chest as the band snaps. Body collapsing against the mattress as your orgasm rips through your body. Namjoon holds your shaking legs steady, mouth planting wet kisses against your clit as his fingers fuck into you.
He doesn't pull back until you're falling limp, heavy breaths lifting your chest arms lifting to cover your eyes. “Feel good?” He asks with a smirk, bringing himself back up to eye level. Fists on either side of your head to hold your body up, he takes in the fucked out look on your face.
“Mm, thank you.” Lips stretching into a blissful grin, which he matches. His lips and nose are wet, chin dripping with your cum. “I got you all messy,” You're giggling, arms reaching up to wrap around his neck. He makes a show of licking it off, tongue collecting what it can reach off of his face before he's leaning down for another kiss.
The kiss is a sloppy wet mess as his tongue pushes the taste of your cum into your mouth. He sucks and bites at your lips, swallowing every last one of your moans while his dick grows heavier between his legs. “Have to fuck you,” He's mumbling, hand reaching down between your bodies to fish his cock out from its confines.
His large hand strokes his shaft, teeth cutting into his lower lip as drops of precum drip from the tip and onto your thigh. You can't help but look on in awe, hard muscles flexing with the movement of his fist. Mindlessly, you're reaching up to tug at the buttons of his shirt, revealing a defined chest and toned stomach. “Flip over for me,” His voice is strained, but you're more focused on the way his muscles tense and jump.
When you don't move, his stare lifts from your glistening lips to your face. And he's catching where your focus is, a laugh falling from his lips. With a shake of his head, he's reaching down for your hips, finally catching your attention. “Flip over,” He says it once more but takes it upon himself to twist your body.
Landing with your chest pressed to the sheets and your cheek smushed against his pillows. You can't see him, but you feel the slow drag of his cock between your folds, gathering up your slick as a lubricant. He's groaning quietly, smearing his precum all over your pussy while collecting your cum onto him. Despite how good it feels, you've got a pout fixed on your lips, not being able to reach or see him from this angle.
“Ready, baby?” Thick head catching on your entrance and it's automatic the way your hips push back toward him. He slips past that first bit of resistance, making you gasp out loud. Pushing past your walls you can feel every inch of him as he stretches you out, strong hands holding your hips steady.
His pelvic bone presses against the globes of your ass as he bottoms out, his strong arm wrapping around your lower belly. Joon's quick with the way he pulls your body up, cock slipping deeper inside of you as his chest presses against your back. “So big,” You're panting, leaning into the ripples of his chest.
Slowly, he draws his hips back, allowing you to feel every inch of his cock disappearing from inside of you. And your pussy clenches around him in protest, pulling a strained groan from his lips. “Fuck, you're squeezing me so tight,” He groans, roughly shoving his hips forward.
You're crying out, head falling back against his shoulder as your body moves with the roughness of his thrusts. The sharp bite at the base of your neck has fresh juices leaking out around his length. “More, Joon.” Your head tilted so you're able to look at him. Cheeks flushed and lips curled into his mouth, dimples on full display.
A thin layer of sweat has formed on his body sticking the two of you together. He reaches for your face, holding it steady before leaning down to connect his mouth with yours. The kiss is nothing more than panted breaths and desperate whines. He speeds up the movement of his hips, forcing your body to bounce against his as he fucks into you.
The sound of your desperate pleas for release and skin slapping is what fills the room. He grunts lowly in your ear, large hands sneaking underneath the hem of your shirt to find your breasts. Pinching and tugging at your nipples while rutting his hips. “You're taking my cock so well, baby,” Your heart flutters at the praise, a familiar warmth spreading throughout your body.
Your ass ripples against his lower belly, legs shaking as you feel the tension growing in your stomach. “I'm close,” You're panting out as a warning, although he doesn't need it. The way your walls clench around him was proof enough.
He uses his hips to lower your body down, following you, careful not to let his cock slip from inside. You're laid flat on the bed with him his back pressed against yours, hips lifted to meet his and provide enough room for him to reach around and toy with your clit. Joon fucks you into the bed, the loud moans that you let out spurring him on.
“Cum for me, baby. All over my dick, you can do it,” His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, his tongue pushing out to tug the lobe into his mouth at the end of his words. All it takes is a few more timed thrusts and his fingers pinching at your clit to have you falling apart. The tension snapping, a tingly feeling cruising through your limbs.
Your body shakes beneath him, fingers clawing at the sheets as your orgasm rips through you, pulling a scream from your throat. Joon slows to a deep grind, helping you ride it out while planting wet kisses against your shoulders. Warm cum surrounds him, leaking from your hole and dripping down to his balls. That plus the sight of you whining and shaking is pushing him over the edge.
He's pulling out quickly, with the entire intention to calm himself so he can fuck you some more. Then his eyes are focusing on the cream globs of white that drip from your pussy, rolling down your thighs and creating a small puddle underneath you. He feels the jolt of pleasure before he can react, stomach caving in. 
“Oh, fuck.” Namjoon gasps, large hand stroking himself as thick spurts of cum shoot out to coat your back. His body hovers over your back, fist clenching the sheets as he coats your ass and back with his cum. Low grunts of your name fill the room, turning into low sighs as his orgasm fades. He's letting out a heavy breath before he's flopping onto his back beside you.
You can already feel his cum turning sticky on your back, but well before you can say anything about it Namjoon is hopping up to his feet. His dick swings as he walks around the bed, cute butt disappearing into the bathroom. He turns the water on just as the front door is being pulled over, quiet footsteps heading right for the bedroom.
It's Jimin. He's poking his head around the cracked door, eyes widening at the sight of your sprawled out on the bed. “Yn!?” Clearly shocked as he steps further into the room, paying very little mind to the muscly man who wipes his cum from your back. “What are you doing here?” Crouched down in front of you with his fingers tangled in your hair.
“I missed you,” Lips puckering out to him and he's quick plant a peck to your lips. “Who else knows you're here?” Leaned back at the balls of his feet, Jimin gives you enough space to sit up.
You're quickly finding Joon's shirt amongst the mess of clothing and you're slipping it on, haphazardly fastening the buttons. He's disappeared in the bathroom once again, shower water running and you vaguely remember him saying he was going to wash up. “No one. I saw Joon first, then he attacked me,” Jimin's laugh matches yours, his arm slinging around your shoulder once you've stood up from the bed.
Your new shirt falls a lot lower than it did on Namjoon, stopping a little lower than mid-thigh. The fact that you're not wearing anything underneath it was hardly noticeable. “Come on, let's go eat.” Jimin leads you out of the room, excitedly filling you in on the car ride over here. 
He seems to have more energy than normal, eyes a lot brighter than you're used to seeing, though there's still a hint of fatigue in them. Either way, you can tell that this vacation has already done him some good. Even though, it's just started.
You follow him into the kitchen, Hoseok stood with his head buried in the fridge. And you're just about to greet him when the soft sound of Yoongi playing the guitar hits your ears. You're making your way further into the house, head peering around the corner to find him sat on the couch guitar in hand.
He notices you right away, the music he was playing instantly being forgotten when he realizes what he's seeing. And the moment that his brain is registering what he's seeing is quick to setting the instrument to the side, standing and making his way over to you a large grin spreading across his features.
“When did you get here!?” He says happily, scooping you up into his embrace. The smile he wears stretches to both sides of his face and it has butterflies erupting in the pit of your stomach. Easily, he's lifting you off the floor, spinning your body in a quick twirl that has giggles flying from your lips.
His laughter mixes with yours, careful as he sets you down onto your feet, an arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from falling over. You've never seen Yoongi this happy to see you, not like he was ever unhappy to see you. He just didn't wear his emotions on his face like some of the others did.
“I got here this morning,” You're answering, only now remembering that he had asked you a question, to begin with. He only nods in response, pulling your body into his side to plant a soft kiss onto the side of your face. “I missed you,” He's mumbling out and the low trimmer of his voice has a flutter going in your chest.
Yoongi leads you the rest of the way into the kitchen where Hoseok spots you the moment you're stepping in. He lets out a dramatic gasp, eyes wide as you grin, rushing around the corner to his side. Your arms wrap around his body, hugging him close while he gets over the initial shock of seeing you after so long.
It's a moment before his arm is coming down to wrap around your shoulders, tucking you into his side. “Woow, I wasn't expecting you to come,” He says with a laugh and you're smiling, leaning up on your toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek all while reaching over the counter to steal the food he just prepared for himself.
“That's why they call it a surprise,” You say, taking a large bite of his hot dog with a wink.
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Taehyung finds Namjoon outside in front of the fridge on his way to the kitchen. He's changed out the clothes he had been wearing earlier, long pajama pants replacing the shorts he had been wearing before. Hair washed and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. Tae's smiling wide at his friend, making his way over.
“Neighbor, hi.” He says, stepping up onto the porch.
It's the sound of Joon's voice as he responds that has Tae's eyebrow lifting. The: 'Yo, what's up, man?' falling in a tone that sounded a little too familiar. It has a chuckle falling from Tae's lips, eyebrows furrowed as he looks up at his friend. “Why do you sound like that?”
Namjoon is genuinely confused, never noticed the change in his voice before. “Sound like what?” It's obvious for the people around him, the ones that saw him through a different lens so they were always able to pick up on his little changes in demeanor. Like how his voice got a tad bit gruff after he's just had sex.
“Sound like you just...” It takes a moment for the pieces to fall into place, the confused expression he had been wearing splitting into a cheek-lifting grin. “She's here!?” Is all he says before he's rushing into the house, Namjoon just steps behind him.
It just so happens that you're by the door when he enters, large hands planting themselves on your hips. Taehyung doesn't give you much time to process anything before he's lifting you off of your feet, quick to wrap your legs around his waist. With the way he's holding you, he's discovering your lack of panties underneath the large shirt. It has his hips pressing up to meet yours.
He leads with his hips, taking three large steps until your back is pressed against the wall nearest to the door. You're clinging to him, arms wrapped around his neck afraid that he might drop you. In any other instance, you'd be fidgeting, trying to get him to let you down. But the look in his eye has your body frozen, cautious not to make any sudden movements or else he'd pounce.
Too late. Taehyung is lunging forward once you're comfortably rested against the wall, hands on either side of your face as he leans in for a kiss. A wet one that has you panting and clutching his hair the entire time. His hips haven't stopped moving subtle thrusts that are just enough to leave you wanting more.
A hand drops from your face, reaching around for your ass. He's got a firm grip on your fleshy bottom, holding your body tight against his as he licks into your mouth. He kisses you until you can't breathe and then some more after that. Not pulling back until he's sure he'll have you panting, a thin line of saliva connecting your lips.
“Hey,” He breathes, cock half-hard and pressed against your folds. “Hi,” You say it through a pant, a giggle breaking through. He's just about to lean back in to devour you some more when something Namjoon says catches his attention. Instead of the panty-soaking kiss, you had been expecting, he settles for pressed his lips against the tip of your nose.
He's gentle with setting you back down on the floor, even reaches to adjust your shirt so it's fully covering your ass. “To be continued,” He says with a nod, turning to follow Namjoon outside of the kitchen. Leaving you with numb thighs and a throb between your legs.
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You're sat between Jimin and Yoongi as they eat, stealing bites from either boy while Taehyung eye-fucks you from across the table. You're not exactly sure what it was, but he really enjoyed watching you squirm nowadays. Would purposely say or do something that he knew would drive you mad, laughing at your reaction.
Tonguing you down in front of everyone and not doing anything else about it was high up on that list. It only made it worse that he knew the effect that he had on you, so you could never play it off as if you weren't a blubbering mess each and every time he touched you. He'd know you were bluffing right off the bat.
But, that didn't mean you wouldn't try. You try not to make eye contact with him throughout the entire meal, engaging in light conversation with everyone else. You'd catch his smirk each time you refused to look his way as he spoke, how focused you were on picking up pieces of ham or how intently you listened to Hoseok speak.
He knew you weren't listening, knew for a fact the only thing on your mind was how hot it would be to be fucked on this table... by all of them. He knew you so well, he didn't even have to guess to know what that was what you were thinking. Which is why it was so much fun to fuck with you.
Namjoon is the first to leave, wanting to get some sleep to wake up in the morning. He plants a kiss on the top of your head as he passes you, mumbling for you to come up if you want before he's exiting the house.
You're stuffed and much more tired than you had thought, but you wanted to stay up for a bit longer in hopes Jin and Jungkook would make an appearance before you went to bed. Jimin is standing from his seat, stalking into the kitchen and giving you the perfect opportunity to lay your head in Yoongi's lap, feet lifting onto the chair.
His hand mindlessly slips underneath the collar of your shirt, palm finding your bare breasts. You're not even sure he realized he's doing it, thumb stroking over your nipple as he keeps up with the conversation going on around him. It's soothing, though, for the both of you and you can feel your eyes growing heavy with each swipe of his thumb.
They're all moving around you, but it seems that you're in your own little world. He drops pieces of his snack into your mouth, fingers coaxing the nub into a hardened peak. And he doesn't miss the flash of hair peeking out from underneath your bunched-up shirt. The fact that you're completely naked underneath the flimsy material makes his dick jump, but he's too tired to do anything about it.
Yoongi's backs straightening with a sigh, hand moving abruptly from around your tit. “I'm sleepy. Goodnight!” You're sitting up to give him enough room to stand, accepting the kiss he lands on your cheek before he's leaving to find his room. And then it's just you and Taehyung at the table and he's pinning you with that insufferable pout.
“How come you let Joon fuck you first?” Now you know him well enough to know that he's not really upset. The eight of you had a pretty good understanding of your relationship by now that jealousy didn't really factor anymore. But, it was Taehyung, so the reason he had for bringing it up had to be less than good.
You're hitting him with a shrug, reaching across the table to pull his chopsticks from his grasp, stealing a mouthful of food. “Guess you weren't fast enough,” The devilish smirk that takes over his features has a shiver running down your spine. He's reaching across for his utensils, gently tugging them from your grip.
“Are you challenging me, Yn?” He talks low like it's some big secret, dark eyes dancing over your features. “Should I shut you up? Get you under the table so I can stuff your mouth, want that?” If you weren't dripping onto the chair, you are now. And you're two seconds from telling him you want exactly that, when the screen doing is being pushed open.
The shout from the youngest member cuts your words off. An excited, 'You're here!?' as he trudges into the kitchen, leaning down to kiss you. One long smooch followed by three quick pecks and he's pulling away, moving on to prepare some food for himself. When you look back Taehyung is gone, empty container being tossed in the trash and he's entering the game room without a word.
You're sure it's not the last time he'll offer up stuffing your mouth, so you don't chase behind him ready to drop to your knees. Instead, you take to turning your attention on Jungkook. Watching as he slurps up his food, eyebrows furrowed like he's mad at it. Must've been hungry, he barely takes breaths between bites.
Jimin is settling at the table with a can of beer in hand. And as the moments tick by, it's dawning on you that Jin might not be coming out. “Where's Jin?” Sure you would've heard his voice by now if he was around. You had been waiting patiently for him to come out, but the longer you waited the sleepier you got.
“He went to bed already,” Jimin tells you, laughing at the way your lower lip juts out into a pout. You knew you'd be able to just see him in the morning, but you had been waiting for him and really wanted to see him now. “I brought Bam along,” He's not even the least bit surprised at the way your face shifts, smile breaking onto your features where the pout used to be. “I wanna see him!”
Jungkook nods, swallowing around the mouthful of food. “I'll take you as soon as I finish,” 
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You follow close behind Jungkook as he leads you to his house, hands on either side of his waist so you don't trip in the dark. That's the excuse, seeing him in these see-through pajamas was making it hard to keep your hands off of him. So any reason you could think of and you were reaching out for a feel.
“Bam, have you been well?” He calls as he steps further into the room. He's rushing over at the sound of his voice, floppy ears bouncing with each step he takes. And then he's stopping, right in his tracks and a moment is taken for him to study you. It's been a while so you're not surprised that it takes him a moment, but he's letting out a loud bark when it clicks, running the rest of the way over.
All but knocking you over in his dog version of a hug, tail wagging as your fingers scratch behind his ear. “He missed you,” Jungkook speaks from the other side of the room. Three excited licks land on your skin before he's jumping off, sensing that Jungkook was leaving the room and he needed to be right behind him.
You follow them into the bedroom, plopping down onto his bed. “What about you?” He can't help the automatic way his eyes zero in on your bare pussy, the fact that you're wearing Namjoon's shirt and still very wet. He knows you were fucked already, anyone with eyes could see that, but now you were dripping it on his bed and it was starting to get hard to focus.
“What about me... what?” He speaks as if he's in a daze, words delivered between your legs. And you're letting out a giggle, hand reaching down to tug the hem of your shirt down your legs, blocking his view just to see the dramatic roll of his eyes. “Did you miss me, too?”
Jungkook lowers himself at the edge of the bed, one arm entertaining Bam while the other reaches behind to shoo your shirt out of the way. “I always miss you,” Words distracted as he fits his fingers between your legs, gathering up enough cum on them before he's pushing them into his mouth, sloppily sucking them clean, keeping his eyes on you the entire time.
He doesn't do anything else, just licks his lips as he stands to his feet. “Get some sleep,” It's an order, not a suggestion. The tired droop of your eyes being a dead giveaway. And you don't even bother to fight it, nodding your head as he stands. You're slipping underneath his blanket, letting out a long yawn as he leaves the room.
Not even ten minutes later, you're fast asleep.
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You sleep through Jungkook's alarm, don't even realize he's gotten out of bed until you hear him coming back inside. He's got a lot of energy for someone who only got three hours of sleep. Your eyes barely peek open to find the two of them entering the bedroom. “Bam, why don't you tell Mommy what you did,” You can't hold the giggle that slips at his attempt of a stern voice, it all just sounds cute to you.
“What happen?” You ask, sure you're not going to get anything out of the dog who's too busy happily slurping from the water bowl. Jungkook plops down on the bed beside you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “He just shit all over the kitchen,” Laughter erupts from your chest, filling the room.
And it's even funnier because he's trying to look serious about it. “I'm gonna call you to clean it next time,” He huffs with a roll of his eyes, body relaxing into the mattress and head falling onto your chest. Your fingers instantly find his hair, running through the soft strands as his eyes fall closed. 
“What time did you sleep?” You ask, mainly because you're curious – hadn't heard him get to bed, but also, you can tell he's still tired despite the fact he should've slept that off. He's shrugging, turning on his side to wrap his arm around your hips. “After the sun came up,” He's mumbling.
He ignores your noise of disapproval, allowing himself a few moments to rest before he's shooting back up and calling for Bam, who comes running at the sound of his name. “I gotta brush his teeth. Wanna shower together after?” He's offering and you're nodding with a nod, arms stretched over your head as you sink further into the sheets.
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At the same time, you're entering the kitchen, Yoongi is sending you and Hoseok to go wake up the others for lunch. And you're heading straight for Jin's room, finding him asleep with his arms covering his face. He looks so warm and inviting, you don't even think twice about slipping into his embrace.
His arms are wrapping around your body in an instant, nose nuzzling into your wet curls and being swarmed with the sweet smell of your hair products. A familiar scent that has his eyes blinking open, a sleepy grin spreading across his features. “When did you get here?” Voice gruff as he moves to bury his face closer into the crook of your neck.
Your arms reach to wrap around him, pulling him close. “Last night, they told me you were asleep.” He hums out a response, body settling into you and he's quickly falling back asleep. You take the time to admire the features on his face, hair much longer now and falling into his eyes. Strong jaw set and thick lips puckered, he's handsome even unconscious.
No way that was fair.
The two of you are able to lay like that for fifteen whole minutes before Hoseok is showing up making an obnoxious sound resembling an alarm. He doesn't stop until Jin is asking for five more minutes, which he graciously grants. Once he's gone, Jin's pulling you closer, lips pressing into your skin as he sinks further into the comfort of his bed.
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Yoongi's nearly finished cooking when the two of you are making your way into the kitchen. He's got two arms wrapped around your torso, back pressed to your chest as his steps mirror yours. It was nice, the peaceful moment you spent laying in silence with him as if you were charging your batteries.
Something that you've done countless times with him before, but never realized how much you needed it until you were going weeks without anything like it. Jin releases you once you're fully entering the house and he's going to help Yoongi with the rest of the cooking.
It's loud in the way you expect them to be. Chatter overlapping while Joon and Taehyung screech karaoke in the other room. There's one member you notice missing from the chaos and you're willing to bet you know exactly where to find him. “I'm going to go get Jimin!” You're announcing to whoever listening, before disappearing from the house and making a beeline for Jimin's room.
You find him exactly where you expected. In his room with his head underneath the covers, soft snores shaking the sheets. Now. Being with all seven of them meant you had to get used to seven different personalities, seven different habits, seven different everything. And it also meant that you had your own special thing with all seven of them.
Silent cuddling with Jin. Cock warming while Joon read. Napping in Yoongi's lap while he was in the studio, etc. They all had a thing that became automatic throughout the years, something special that you hardly did with anyone else. Wake-up calls were that thing when it came to Jimin.
You're not thinking twice before you're crawling underneath the sheets, being met with his strong bare legs and his boxers bunched up in all the right places. He's not wearing a shirt. He flinches at your first touch, soft fingers brushing against the hem of his briefs. But he doesn't wake up.
He's not the lightest of sleepers so you know you've got to be fast, fueled by how badly you wanted to feel him against your tongue, you're quick to tug his boxers down his thighs. Even in the dark, you can make up the thickness of his cock. Soft but still impressive, he had the thickest dick out of all of his friends. And it was so pretty, long enough to rest against his thigh a blush pink tint to it.
Reaching out to wrap your hand around his base, you hear the low hum that falls from his lips. Shifting slightly but he only ends up getting closer to you. You don't tease or stall, wet mouth wrapping around his tip instantly. Slowly, you suck your way down his length, mouth open wide as you try to take all of him.
Then you're pulling back and trying again. It's at your fourth try that your mouth has loosened up enough so that you're able to suck him all the way down, nose brushing against his pelvic bone. He's much harder now too, felt him growing against the warmth of your tongue. Just as you're about to pull your head back for some air, a hand lands on the back of your head, keeping you from moving away.
“Fuck, don't stop.” His voice sounds gruff with the morning and you take a moment to peek up at him. Hair falling messily around his face, hooded eyes trained on you, pink lip trapped between his teeth. How could someone look this good just waking up was beyond you.
You don't stop, heading his order, your head bobs faster, sucking with a lot more enthusiasm. You're reaching your hand out to grasp his balls, rolling them around in your palm as you focus on taking him all the way down your throat. His back falls slack against the mattress, eyes rolling to the back of his head.
He pushes deep into your mouth, groaning at the way you swallow around him. Mind still foggy from sleep so it all feels like a dream. He feels the first bits of precum leave his body, the tightness of your throat sucking it out of him. He's careful with pulling back, keeping a firm grip on your head before he's pushing forward, fucking himself into your mouth. 
And you let him. Two hands braced on his hips, you let him fuck into your mouth however he wants. Drool and precum pooling at the corners of your lips, eyes watering and tears threatening to spill as he grows rougher. His whines go straight to your core, pussy clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled with something.
Preferably his dick. Jimin's drawing back to check out the wet lines that connect your mouth to his cock and he's just about to push back in when he catches the way your thighs squeezed together, free hand wedged between them. You're playing with yourself, mouthful of his cock and fingers between your legs.
The sight alone is almost enough to break him. Not without giving you what you so clearly want, though, first. “Ride me,” Two words and you're scrambling up to your knees, blanket being thrown off of your heads as you move up to straddle his waist. The panties you wore underneath your skirt are being ditched as you bunch the fabric up at your waist, quickly going to lower yourself onto him. He can't help but chuckle at your haste, arms wrapping around your hips to hold you steady.
“That's what you came in here for, huh?” His hand reaches down to grasp his hard cock, slowly dragging it between your folds. “Needed something in that greedy little hole,” You whimper in agreement to his words, hips fighting to get closer to his cock. But he's got a strong grip keeping you from going anywhere.
Jimin takes his time sinking in, enjoying the way your face changes the deeper he dips inside of you. He knows he's all the way in when your jaw drops and your eyes roll to the back of your head. He stretches you much wider than anyone else, the slight sting mixing with the pleasure and it already has a tingle forming n your toes.
Clit pressed firmly against his pelvic bone, he makes no effort to move against you. Completely still and judging from the smirk on his face, he doesn't plan to move at all either. “You do it,” He chuckles, reaching for your wrists to pull your hands onto his chest. Then he's reaching around for your ass, roughly squishing the fleshy skin beneath his palms.
You're lifting your hips once, experimentally, and then again when it feels good. He watches with greedy eyes, focused on the way his cock disappears and reappears in between your legs. It's hard to move with your pussy clenched tight around him, still not entirely used to the stretch but you'll manage.
This is far from the first time that you've ridden him before, though, it was the first time that he expected you to be in complete control. Most times he was the one guiding you, not allowing your hips to move unless his hands were the ones that brought them there. It was much harder for you to find your own pace, especially with the distracting way he toys with your ass.
Jimin waits. Allows you to fall into a slow rhythm, watches as the swirls of your hips become more confident and then he's knocking you off. Hips thrusts up into you roughly and pulling a loud cry from your lips. “You don't know how to fuck yourself?” He's laughing, sitting up so he's able to reach your neck.
“You like bouncing on my dick, huh? Like when I make you scream?” Just to prove his point, he's angling his hips in a way that he knows will get a loud scream to fall from your lips. Hitting all of your most sensitive spots, while sucking fresh hickeys into your skin. Your hands desperately search for something to grip, finding purchase in his hair.
He uses his hands to lift and drop your ass onto him, hips meeting each one of his thrusts. You feel the way your pussy clenches around him, legs tightening around his waist as the heat spreads throughout your body. “So good, Jimin! Please,” Hands fallen from his hair to reach his back, sharp nails gliding over his skin.
Easily, he's knocking you onto your back, body slotted between your legs. “Gonna make you cum all over my dick,” He groans, lifting one of your legs onto his waist so he's able to reach deeper. It has your back arching off of the bed, hips frantically moving to meet his as the pressure of your orgasm forms.
“I'm close, shittt,” You've got his cock in a chokehold, nails digging into the milky skin of his back. He feels the wetness that leaks around his length, forcing him to slide in deeper, head pressing right against your g-spot. That has you screaming, threshold shattering as your arousal sprays out of you.
Your vision blurs as you cum, incoherent sentences falling from your lips as your legs shake around him. Jimin doesn't let up, fucking into you as hard as he was before. “So fucking hot,” He's chanting it over and over, chasing his own release. The force of his hips has your body sliding up the bed, the headboard banging rhythmically against the wall.
His soft fingers meet your sensitive clit, causing you to flinch away. Dark eyes lift to look at you, cheeks flushed and lips bitten. “One more time for me, baby. Please,” Fuck, he was even hot when he sounded desperate. He's groaning at the way your pussy tightens, head falling into the crook of your neck. “My God, you're gonna kill me-” He groans.
It's not long before the thrusts of his hips become sloppy and untimed, cock twitching inside of you and fingers moving quickly against your clit. Just as promised, he's pulling another orgasm from you, a clear spray of cum wetting his crotch and stomach. Your eyes squeezed shut as you squeal and it's all he needs to let go, filling you with his warm cum.
He stays still between your legs, hips glued to yours as he empties his load inside of you. The warmth has soft whines falling from your lips, fingers reaching up to toy with his long hair. The two of you lay like that for what feels like hours, chests rising and falling in tandem as his cock goes soft inside of you.
You'd be content with never leaving this position, wrapped up in his sweaty arms with his face buried in your equally sweaty neck. “I fucking needed that,” He says with a laugh, lifting up just enough so he can reach your lips. He kisses you slowly, tongue lazily toying with yours and you swear you feel his dick twitch against your walls.
No chance to explore that, though, his bedroom door is being pushed open and Hoseok is standing in the doorway. “Alright, enough. Let's go,” Somehow, he manages to pull Jimin off of you, guiding him through the process of getting dressed. You're giggling, sure the others must have gotten annoyed with having to wait to eat because of you.
Thankfully, Hoseok leaves you to get yourself presentable, pulling a shirtless Jimin out of the room, despite his complaints about wanting to stay in bed with you.
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just a few days rest from your busy schedule is enough to get you back on track... spending those days off with your seven boyfriends in a castle built deep in the forest you can kiss any type of rest goodbye!
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yoonia · 4 months ago
once upon an us [m] | knj
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❥ Summary | You have spent years building a life of your own until you find yourself living a life that every little girl could have ever dreamed of. With a promising career and an expensive apartment in the big city, the only thing left is the fairytale wedding that you had wished for since you were a little girl. When the one you believe to be your prince charming finally comes into your life, you start to believe that dreams do come true. But you also know that things aren’t always as simple as it seems, when there is still a piece of your past that is still tethering you back from reaching for it.
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❥ Title | Once Upon an Us
❥ Pairings | Kim Namjoon x female reader
⤑ Genre | Past Lovers!au, Exes to Lovers!au, Established relationship, Angst, Rom-com, Fluff, Smut
⤑ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature
⤑ Warnings | Mentions of miscarriage, grief, characters making bad decisions, fake relationship(-ish) trope, Namjoon as a (former) basketball player, some cliche scenes as part to romcoms (sharing a bed, lots of arguments), technically involves infidelity, sexual tension, lots of kissing, dry humping, outdoor foreplay, public sex, breast play, clothed foreplay, clothed sex, denied orgasm, hair pulling, fingering (female), oral sex (female, including clit play, implied biting), unprotected sex, rough sex, mention of multiple orgasms, implied creampie.
⤑ Word count | 47k words (I am so sorry!!!)
⤑ Cross Post | AO3 | Inkitt 
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❥ Author’s Note | This story is written as a part of the ‘Christmas in July’ project, for the ‘Winter Wedding Season’ category, an event hosted by @kookdiaries, @kithtaehyung, and @xiaokoo. This fic is loosely inspired by the movie Sweet Home Alabama (2002) | Thank you @theodea for reading through this on such a short notice (I love you, bub!) and for my sprint mates and fellow camp nano-ers who kept hyping me up in this journey @softyoongiionly @randombtsprincessa @yeoldontknow 
❥ Song Companion | Sabrina Claudio - Belong To You (feat. 6lack) ● Daughter - Landfill ● ORKID - Only If You Want To ● Jutes - We Good ● Standing Egg - Ironic
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There is always something to be said about little girls and their big dreams.
The way their innocence allows them to conjure imaginations that are beyond any adult mind could comprehend. To have their minds going places without any worries of facing the reality of life, without any barriers or limits to how far their extensive imagination would go as they create all the scenarios involving their whole life—starting with the paths where they want to go in life, the person they imagine they would become, the people they want to meet, and everything that they want to achieve.
For a lot of people who had known you since you were a little girl, this is exactly how they had seen you and has continued to remember you with. A dreamer. The little girl who would paint a big picture inside your head that you would often get stuck in your own world, oftentimes too stubborn to look at the present or the world around you and to simply follow the course that your life was taking you into.
The little girl in you had dreamt of becoming your own princess, just like the ones you have read in the storybooks that your parents used to read you before bed. You dreamt about living in a castle somewhere at the top of the mountains—just like the mountains that you had always seen growing up at home. You dreamt about having all the fancy things that princesses would acquire and being spoiled with the pleasure of the admiration and praises from all the people that you would surround yourself with.
As you grew older, your dreams began to manifest into something more real. When you knew that, in reality, it would be impossible for you to build your own castle, you began to turn your dreams and use them to build a plan of uprooting your life. From the small-town girl that everyone knew into someone who has a lot more, achieving everything through an elaborate plan that you had concocted so perfectly for yourself—to move into the big city, to have your own place, switching from living in the old brick house in your family’s property to affording a fancy apartment which looked similar to those you have seen in the movies, and to have a great career, something that would be enough to allow you to buy your own fancy things the way you couldn’t afford to as a child.
Soon, you would learn that the journey to fulfilling your dreams would not be as easy as how you had pictured it as a child. If there is something for you to learn as an adult, is that there is also always something to be said about life, about its twists and turns, the surprises and the secrets looming in every corner, and how easy it would be for someone like you to get caught drifting in the tide if you are not prepared for it.
It had taken you far and through a tumultuous course of life to be in this moment, to find yourself living in the big city, with a good job and a rising career that had put a roof over your head—specifically the two-bedroom apartment located in the heart of the city which would have costed a living if you hadn’t been lucky enough to have the kind of income that you earn from your fancy job.
Sometimes, it still feels unbelievable to think that you had somewhat managed to bring your dreams into reality, though the years of hard work to make it all happen have managed to keep your foot on the ground, keeping you humble despite everything that you had gone through. The journey started the day you left the small town where you were born and raised, stepping out of your comfort zone to begin your own adventure. It was all followed by the years you spent studying in law school, then building up your career while constantly proving yourself against the people who had once looked down on you along with all the vicious male competitors at work for you to become the person that you are today.
Looking back at your journey and at everything that you had accomplished for the past seven years, to see for yourself just how you had managed to survive all the tides that fate had thrown at you should be able to make you feel happy and content. The life that you had built up to today has gone beyond whatever you had imagined and there is no chance in hell you would ever trade it for anything else.
Not even for a fraction of a memory that you had to sacrifice many years ago.
But sometimes, you still find it hard to savour everything. Not when you still constantly feel like you are missing something, as if there is a piece of you that had been mislaid, lost, perhaps forgotten in the midst of walking down your path to finding your happy ending.
And the void has only been getting stronger because you know that the little girl inside you is still refusing to give up on her fairy tale ending and has always been so demanding that she wants to have it just the way the old storybooks that she had read as a child had been telling them.
In the fairy tales that you had once adored as a child, each of their stories had always ended with the Princesses meeting their Prince Charming, to have them falling in love, and have their union defeat all the bad until there is nothing left but the good. Just like everything else that you have acquired in life, this had also been a part of the dream that you had manifested in your mind as a little girl. To finally end your story by finding someone who could sweep you off of your feet the same way you read them in those storybooks, before riding into the sunset to mark the end of your lone journey and the start of your journey together with the one you love.
There had been many years of waiting, of picturing how it should be when the moment would finally come. But despite all the scenarios that you had planned and played out in your head each time you wondered about it in the past, never once had you imagined that it would be something like this.
You snap out of it when his voice comes to your senses, shaking you out of your wandering thoughts and pulling you back to the present. Back to the man who is still down on the floor, resting on one knee right before you. He is now wearing a nervous smile on his face while his eyes carry a ton of questions, no doubt for having you falling silent instead of jumping up and down in joy after what he had initially asked of you. Your eyes fall on his hands. The same hands that have been holding out a small box with a glowing diamond ring sitting at its center, and you immediately remember what had just happened before time suddenly stopped still for you to send your mind wandering off to the past.
“M-Matthew—” your voice comes out small when you finally manage to speak, though the words still seem to refuse to come out.
“What do you say, babe? Will you marry me?” he asks again, as if you hadn’t heard him the first time, and you can see his gaze flickering, looking vulnerable when you have yet to give him an answer.
A hush comes from around you as the people who have been witnessing this moment unfolding are beginning to whisper. Some talking with curiosity while others seem to be growing more impatient on Matthew’s behalf.
‘She’s still in shock,’ says one voice. ’I think he’s made her speechless,’ says another. You don’t even make any effort to look around to see who is speaking and who is probably sneering at you, still too stunned into silence at the sight of the man before you. You can feel their gazes on you even without looking over, though you try not to let their presence intimidate and haunt you, letting them fade into the background while you focus on steadying your breath.
The words are there on the tip of your tongue, but your racing heartbeat makes it hard for you to find your voice to speak it out loud. Despite the fact that you had known for quite some time that he had been planning for this, having heard him talking and insinuating for this moment to finally happen, you never expected for him to do this here and definitely not right at this moment. Right in the middle of the important office event, everyone has gathered for the night to celebrate his promotion as a partner. He was supposed to be the one who is standing in the limelight, the one who is supposed to become the main part of the event, and he certainly was not supposed to pull you with him under that spotlight which now seems to be pointing straight at you.
But perhaps this is his fairy tale ending too. Something that he had planned to happen right at the same time he finally acquired his goal, putting an end to his lone journey to start a new one with you. As the thought occurs to you, the answer comes to you pretty easily.
“Yes,” you finally give your answer out loud, and your pounding heartbeat intensifies just as your joy begins to take over, coming out in waves, eliminating all the doubts that had been weighing inside your chest. “Yes, Matthew. The answer is yes. I’ll marry you.”
While everyone around you cheers to celebrate, Matthew jumps onto his feet and wraps you in his arms. As someone who always appears so calm and composed whether he is in the courtroom or within the conference meeting rooms, Matthew has never had any hesitation in showing his feelings for you whenever he is in public. And you have grown used to it by now that you simply laugh with him as he envelopes you with his big arms, lifting you up and spinning you around with him, before taking your lips in his in a quick celebratory kiss and then finally letting you go.
Your head is still spinning and your mind still feels slightly fuzzy when he takes your hand and gently slides the beautiful ring onto your finger. Everything seems so surreal that you are almost convinced that you are dreaming, that nothing about this is actually happening. But then Matthew helps you feel everything once again, bringing your senses back alive and your mind back to focus as he pulls you in his arms once more so he can capture your lips, giving you a kiss that is much deeper in his joy.
This is it, you wonder to yourself as you slowly give in, wrapping your arms around his neck as you return his kiss and lean into his embrace.
The happy ending of your own fairy tale. Your Prince Charming.
The feeling of his heart beating against your chest makes his presence more real. To allow you to realise that this is all happening. But the moment he lets you go, giving you a chance to pull away from the kiss and look at his face, the reality of your life and of what had just transpired finally begin to sink in.
The happiness you are feeling now should have you feeling ecstatic, to be able to cheer just as loud as the guests in the office party who had become the witnesses to this wondrous moment and to savour it with a smile on your face which should be just as wide as Matthew’s as he looks at you with wonders in his eyes.
“I love you,” he whispers, keeping his forehead resting on yours as he keeps holding you in his arms, swaying you gently with him as he moves from side to side to enjoy the faint hum of the music playing from the speakers while everyone else returns to the enjoy their drinks.
You look up at him, returning his smile when you whisper, “Love you too,” making his smile grow wider as he savours the words you have given him before he pulls you back against his chest. You enjoy making him smile, and you revel in the joy brewing inside you knowing that you make him happy. And yet you can still feel the sinking feeling that comes to you in the form of the shadow from your past, reminding you of the reason why you are still unable to fall freely into this joy, to savour it the way you are supposed to. And you hate not being able to enjoy this moment when deep down you know that you deserve every bit of the happy ending now being offered to you.
Wrapping your arms around Matthew’s waist, you close your eyes and bask in his warmth. It pains you to know just how happy he is about this moment while you are filled with a dreadful pang of guilt pinching at your chest.
As you let him continue to guide you into a slow dance right in the middle of the dance floor, you begin to silently write a new elaborate plan inside your head, writing another scenario that would allow you to finally embrace the happiness being gifted to you, starting from going back home to face the shadows of your past and the life that you had left behind when you began writing your own story.
Because something is tethering you back into that life still, a secret that would be enough to shatter the life that you have built for yourself, your future, and perhaps any happiness that is waiting for you at the end of the tunnel.
And you know that it is time for you to set everything loose for once and for all. All for the sake of moving on and for you to embrace your new beginning.
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Your flight home had never felt this long before. Not for a trip that was supposed to have been a quick one. It isn’t as if your hometown is somewhere across the globe or even all the way across the country. It just didn’t help that you had been anxious all through the trip that it simply felt as if the plane had been crawling in the air, making it appear as if time simply stood still while you were up there. With your stomach constantly churning, you couldn’t even indulge yourself in the alcohol drinks they were offering on the flight to help you pass the time.
Stepping out of the plane has not done much to ease the anxiety you felt, and yet you simply force yourself to hold it back down and act as if you still have control over everything. You have even chosen to grab a rental car from the airport instead of taking the cab home, hoping that driving the car would help clear your head a little and perhaps force you to focus instead of letting your mind constantly wandering out of control.
Once you start driving away from the airport, you soon find that you were right, after all. The action has your mind focusing that it leaves no space for your anxiety to take over. Though it doesn’t stop other emotions to come through you. Watching the scenery as you drive the car slowly down the road, you relish on the feeling of melancholy that suddenly overwhelms you. And yet, at the same time, you still find it hard to just relax and give in to the moment. But only because everything that you are looking out on as you drive past the town road and its old buildings all seem odd to you, and somewhat foreign.
It had been seven years ago when you left this town for the first time. Leaving behind the heartache, the grief, the physical pain that had been a part of you, a reminder of what you had lost, and you had done it all simply to continue on living.
Up until three years ago, you had been coming home often, either it was to spend the holidays with your family or to simply visit your parents on their birthdays or on the weekends where you would be free with a chance for a long break. But then things changed, when everything fell apart all so suddenly and you no longer had any reason to come back when the last string of hope that you were still holding on to for you to survive was ripped away from you.
It was not too long after when you got the permanent position in the law firm you are working at, and while work had always been so rough and so busy even around the holidays, it had helped give you the escape you had needed to stay away. It might have been unfair for you to use your job as your excuse to keep your distance, and for you to use it as a reason not to come home as often as you had wanted, but it was a small sacrifice to what you had wanted to gain. Ever since then the only way you could ever celebrate Christmas with your family had only been done through video calls instead of being there in person. Though your heart kept telling you that it wasn’t enough, you simply had to make do, and your parents had no other choice but to understand and to let it continue on for a while.
Being here now, looking out the window to watch the town as you drive right by, you can feel a nagging feeling inside you that tells you how much you no longer belong in this place. Especially now, when you are about to embark a new journey that doesn’t involve any part of your past.
Thinking about the recent events happening in your life, specifically on the one that is about to change the entire course of your life, only brings your mind back to Matthew.
You have always been a terrible liar, and the guilt of lying to Matthew about this abrupt homecoming is still clawing at you in the chest. Rubbing your palm against the source of the painful pinch you are feeling, you recall the day when you had to tell him about coming home to see your parents in order to send them the news of your engagement.
And that you would need to do it without him.
Having only started dating each other for 8 months, Matthew had never gotten a chance to get to know the side of you that you had left behind. He had only known you as the woman who would always come early every morning and the last one to leave the office at night. And then last year, after facing a case that had gotten you stuck with him in the office on the night before Christmas, it had been the side of you that you had painted for everyone around you to see—the hardworking city girl with no baggage or secrets, and perhaps not even a personal life—that had managed to catch his attention first. He had never known you as the small-town girl who had once think highly of the holiday tradition that you had with your family, who would stay up all night to set up all the Christmas decorations to light up the whole house when you weren’t stuck in the kitchen helping your mother with her Christmas meal or when you weren’t helping your brother wrap up all the gifts until blisters would start growing on the tip of your fingers from working with all the glues and tapes.
So the moment you got a strong reaction from Matthew about you seeing your parents without him and that you would be staying with them for the holidays, you had been ready for it. Though it had needed a lot of convincing on your part still to make sure that he wouldn’t insist on tagging along and ruining your whole plan.
“How long will you be gone?” he asked you the morning he was driving you off to the airport, once he was open to the idea of letting you travel home on your own.
“Just one week, only until the day after Christmas, then I’ll come back as soon as I can so I can spend New Year’s Eve with you. I promise,” you had answered him then, appeasing him by giving him what he had wanted to hear while silently repeating it inside your head as a promise to yourself, setting up a time limit as you set out to clear out the final hurdle getting in the way of your new beginning with your fiancé.
It wouldn’t be easy. Even as you were thinking about doing this and way before you even decided to fly all the way here to make this happen, you had known that this would not be an easy task. But it needs to be done, and it needs to happen soon, and the last thing you would ever let yourself do is to get swayed away from your goal the moment you take action, just like it had happened before.
But you cannot afford for it to happen again. Not now, not ever, and especially not after all sacrifices that you had made the day you left this town for good three years ago.
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Not too many changes had been done to the house that you grew up in since the last time you were home.
The wallpapers and the floorboards had been changed, and you also know that your Dad had done some renovating over the years that you were mostly gone, but he kept a lot of part from the old house to make it look all the same. You can still breathe in the faint scent of stale paint and glue and must from old wood lingering in the air, though everything feels muted when they are mixed with the scent of fresh paint and freshly cut wood that still remains after the past renovations.
All the mixed fragrances are soon masked away with a set of new ones, as the delectable aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the meat dish cooking in the oven continue wafting in the air as your mother makes her way back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room to set up dinner. Your mother had made it obvious that your arrival had been a surprising one, when she screamed at the top of her lungs the moment she opened the front door to see you standing there on the other side. Especially since you had no chance to let her know about your sudden visit, an afterthought that had only occurred to you the moment you were knocking on the door. But she was quick to recover from her shock, replacing it with excitement and had instantly taken action in preparing a large dinner to welcome you even if your Dad and your brother have yet to arrive home.
“How was your flight? Did they serve you one of those snack boxes like the one I got when I came home from seeing you last time? Unless you got on the first class flight. They still serve you a full course meal for those expensive tickets they’re selling, don’t they?” Your mother keeps throwing random questions as she is busy preparing the meal, while she keeps insisting that you simply remain in your seat instead of helping her with her tasks. You only respond to her questions with one short answer at a time while trying to sneak in some lending hand whenever she isn’t looking—from checking on the oven’s heat to stirring the pot of meatball sauce while she has her hands full with the other.
“Have you gone to see anyone yet since you landed? Have you heard from Missy? Did you hear that she’s pregnant with her third child? Third!” your mother keeps rambling on, waving her spatula at you while speaking louder with her voice rising with each sentence. You have no idea whether she is completely hyped over the fact that your childhood best friend is having another little one on the way or if she is just happy to have you home this year after your long absence in the house. Even better, that you had arrived a lot earlier and with almost a week to spare before Christmas would arrive.
Her joy is somehow contagious that you cannot help but laugh just as she accidentally splatters some sauce anywhere but the pot where the fresh sauce is boiling.
“Mom, slow down. You’re tossing that tomato sauce all over the kitchen,” you tell her while pointing at her spatula and the sauce dripping from it before she tosses it back to the pot where her special meatball dish is currently cooking. “And no, I haven’t gone to see anyone yet. I drove straight here and avoided going through downtown—”
To avoid having people seeing me around before I can at least prepare myself to deal with them and all their questions, you silently add.
“I haven’t even called Missy yet. Maybe I will in the morning or I can go the her family’s diner a bit later to pay a visit.”
Your mother shakes her head. “You must be exhausted. Look at those bags under your eyes, and have you been eating properly?” she keeps asking you while pinching at your cheeks. “You always work so hard and I know that you’d be skipping meals if I don’t call you everyday to remind you of it.”
“I’m fine, Mom. It’s probably just the jet-lag,” you simply answer her before she would go ranting about the way you have been living in the big city. She had always been giving you the same lecture after she had caught you red-handed tossing away a week worth of takeout boxes out of your apartment when she made a sudden visit to see you. Then, as if your body agrees with you, you suddenly feel your shoulders dropping and you find yourself yawning.
“Oh, look at you,” your mother comments right as she sees it. “There will be no more of you going around town tonight. We’re going to sit down for dinner and then you’re going to go upstairs to sleep it off.”
You open your mouth to protest, only to have your mother shaking her head and pushing you away from the frying pan that you have been fiddling with. “Now, go sit back down! Don’t you dare think that I haven’t noticed what you’ve been doing. Now, shoo!”
You laugh softly as you let her kick you out of the kitchen while muttering, “Yes, mother.”
Not long after, your mother sits with you at the dining table as she tries to feed you every single meal on the table while asking about how your life has been. Your father is still out at work, giving the two of you a chance to catch up more freely and for you to gently bring up the real reason why you had returned home without the intense way your father would be reading through your lies if he had been home already.
You had tossed the engagement ring into your purse when you first arrived, keeping it hidden from your mother’s eyes. Despite the fact that you have only had it on for a few weeks, you still feel like there is something missing as you raise your left hand up. You can barely ignore the indentation on your ring finger that you keep rubbing your thumb over it, brushing against the odd feeling of void that the ring had left behind.
All through dinner, your mother keeps you updated on the rumour mills, letting you know about how the neighbourhood has been changing and everything there is to know about the people in town. You listen halfheartedly, responding with the usual murmurs of yes and no or ask her more about what she is telling you, even if you are slowly feeling the weight of your news looming, pushing you to the edge to make you want to just spill everything in the open.
You look at your mother and see that she seems to be holding back too. Not in the way she is talking about the town, however, but from asking you the questions that you can see lingering in her eyes each time she gives you her quick glances.
Once you are done with the first course of the meatball dish and your mother stands up from her seat to give you a second offering, you can no longer take it anymore.
“I’m going to see him,” you finally tell your mother, still feeling a bit tense about admitting it, though you feel good for finally voicing it out.
Your mother only looks at you for a moment before releasing a deep sigh and returning to her seat. “So that’s why you came home, huh? I was wondering if there’s something more going on,” she says, sounding a bit regretful as a sad smile comes to her face. “I thought that might be the case, but I kept telling myself—” she stops only to shake her head. “It’s been so many years.”
“That’s the point. It’s been years too long,” you answer your mother with a solemn nod. “I need to settle the things going on between us for good.”
Your mother purses her lips together. “Can’t you guys just talk about it like decent adults first? You know, maybe you can find a middle ground and work on—”
At her question, and whatever it is that she has going on in her thoughts, you can only sigh and shake your head. “I tried, Mom. Things wouldn’t have turned out this way if not for him suddenly turning away from me before actually giving a chance for us to talk about it like two adults,” you tell her, explaining to her for the umpteenth time already, just like how you would always do every year when this topic comes up.
“Why now? After all these years, why have you suddenly decided that you want to see him in person now?”
You open your mouth to answer but find yourself unable to speak. How are you supposed to explain the fact that you had somehow agreed to marry someone that your parents don’t really know anything about? And while this hurdle had been getting in your way for too long already, it wasn’t until the moment you put on Matthew’s ring and have the images of your future flashing in your eyes when you realise that you can no longer let it hold you back from moving on.
You know that no matter how well you can find a way to explain it, neither one of your parents is going to be happy to know what is going on or to understand the reason why you are taking an action after years of being silent.
“I can’t tell you why just yet, I just—” you begin to speak, shaking your head again before looking at her. “It’s time, Mom. Don’t you think?”
Your mother looks completely somber when she nods. There is a voice in the back of your mind that is telling you that perhaps your mother knows that something is up. But you refuse to admit it, hoping that she simply thinks of this as a way for you to make things right.
“You’re right. I think you really should talk to him,” she says to you, finally, keeping her voice soft as she speaks before pointing a finger at you as she adds, “And I mean really talk to him properly without screaming at each other.”
Her comment reminds you back to three years ago, when you were much younger and you still had lack control of your emotions that you had allowed the townspeople to witness it when you were fighting with him in public. It was catastrophic, and there is no doubt that people still remembers that day, perhaps even better than what your memory had served you. Chuckling sheepishly to yourself, you raise your hand up and look at your mother with a sly grin. “You know I can’t promise you anything yet, but I’ll do my best to reign down my anger.”
“As you both should,” she says, only to stop briefly and glance over to the empty seat where your father would usually sit during dinner. Except for tonight, as he was stuck dealing with a little problem at work. “And, um—I need you to do me a favour,” your mother speaks to you softly, almost to whisper before turning to look at you. “Don’t let your Dad know what you might decide to do about all of this until it’s time, you hear me?”
For a moment there, you are left speechless, wondering if your mother had found out about what is truly going on. But looking at her doesn’t give you an answer, not when she isn’t giving you much of it when she keeps her face blank, only filled with the firm look in her eyes as she waits for you to agree with her.
“I won’t tell him anything until I’ve handled things.”
Your answer seems to please her, enough to bring back her smile. Your mother pats gently on your left hand, showing her gratitude without so much of a word before she leaves her seat to finally get you that second serving of her homemade meatball dish. As she leaves, your eyes find your hand, focusing on the empty ring finger that suddenly feels heavy with an invisible weight, carried by the secret that you simply cannot wait to let go of.
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“How does it feel to be back home?”
Listening to Matthew’s voice on the phone makes you want to close your eyes and exhale a deep sigh. In fact, that is just what you do as you lean against the side of your rented city car, basking in the rumbles of Matthew’s deep voice that you have started to miss a lot despite the fact that you had just spent time with him last weekend.
“It feels—good, and odd at the same time,” you answer him with a chuckle, opening your eyes to look around you and take in the sight of the beautiful town where you grew up in.
There is a whole lot of truth in your words when you talk about being home. Being here feels good. Everything about it feels right—the fresh air, the clean roads and sidewalks, the artsy walls and the old buildings, the familiar scents, and all the places that remind you of your childhood and all the years you spent causing trouble and trying to find yourself through your teen years.
But it is certainly different here compared to the big city. In the city, you are nearly invisible. Surrounded by all the people who only care about their own personal businesses, on living it through the day and following the quick pace of the city life that you have become a part of for the past nearly seven years. Everything here appears in brighter colours, slightly muted compared to the colours you see in the city, where everything seems more vibrant and bold and awfully loud. Everyone here moves at a slower pace, as if they are savouring every second of their day as they go about it town, finishing their personal businesses without so much of a rush, sometimes even stopping just to have a chat with anyone they come across. It has been a sight that is completely unlike what you have grown used to seeing back in the city, where people would rush to get from one spot to another as soon as they can without even bother paying attention to the people they come across as they continue to live and move along to follow the constant ripple pulsing within the city
You almost forgot that you had once been a part of this town.
And you have just been reminded that everyone in this town knows each other.
There is no doubt that the news of your arrival may have already reached him. There is nothing you can do to escape it when you came across Ruth, the gossip girl of the town, when you dropped by at the bank in town this morning. Not to mention the fact that your uncle may have gone to see him early morning when you know that they are still doing their morning runs together. Funny how life changes over the years and yet some things just remain the same.
Everything—and everyone—in this town seems to remain completely the same.
And that is when you start questioning just where do you fit in all of this. Or if you still fit here at all.
“Baby? Is everything okay?” you hear Matthew’s voice from the phone still pressed to your ear, snapping you from your wandering thoughts, and only then do you realise that he has been saying stuff on the phone which you have obviously missed.
“Yes,” you quickly answer him while chastising yourself for it. “I’m sorry, I got distracted. You were saying?”
Matthew lets out a soft chuckle through the phone, as if he already knows your antics, and that he had grown used to noticing you spacing out so randomly when you are not focusing completely the way you would when you are working. “I was saying how sorry I am that I can’t be there. You know, it would’ve been better if I had joined you to meet your family if you’re going to let them know about our engagement, don’t you think? I should’ve been there with you to do it. I have to meet them at some point, right?”
“Right,” you answer him with a small voice while you feel your breath getting caught in your throat. You had gone through all of this before, having him question why he isn’t here with you and you had always tried to explain the best you could about why you have to do this alone. With him constantly bringing it up on each phone call, you are not completely sure just how much longer you can keep going with this ruse and how soon the truth will come out.
You are thankful for the fact that he is unable to see you this way, but you still try your best to recover and answer him lightly, “But you know, you also have that family thing this Christmas and the gala. I feel like I have to do this on my own—”
Because your Dad’s heart might not be able to survive it if you had brought a man into your parents’ home and your Mom would blow a torch once she drops her gaze on Matthew.
And then there’s the gossip.
Oh, what would people say if you had come home with Matthew instead of coming here alone? Once again, the weight of the engagement ring that you have kept inside your purse feels heavy. This time, it feels heavier than the tightness in your chest that you have to press your free hand harder against the side of your purse as if the tiny little thing is pulsing from within and everyone in town might be able to sense its presence from a mile away.
“—because you know, I already told you that my parents might be a bit old-fashioned about this, yet I feel like I need to send the news to them lightly.”
“Yeah, I get it. I mean, I don’t think I can escape this charity gala even if I’d wanted to,” he says, and you feel even more guilty for lying when you can hear the smile in his voice.
Not lying, omitting the truth, as you have told yourself time and time again.
“But—” he adds, “At least you’re going to be back here for New Year’s Eve, right? My parents have been going on and on about the family dinner and the gathering. Don’t worry, I kept my promise not to tell them about the engagement until then, but they still ask about you a lot, wondering if you’re going to be here.”
“I’ll be there,” you quickly answer him, just when you hear the sound of a door opening. “Listen, Matthew honey. I have to go. Can I call you back later tonight?”
“Of course,” he says. “I have to stop by at the office briefly before heading to the gym and then I’m off to see my Dad for lunch right after my workout. You take care over there, alright? I love you.”
“Me too.”
Ending the call, you toss the phone into your purse and push yourself away from the car. You begin to walk carefully on the gravel-covered pathway heading to the old building in front of you—the old place that you had once remembered as the old wooden barn turned into the town’s farmers’ tavern which, at some point, had come near of being torn down.
The place had once called the Spinning Horse Pub, where you would see drunken old men hanging out there at night after spending all day doing labour work, tossing glasses and passing around the local beer while singing old folksongs completely out of tune and with all the wrong lyrics, the sight which ended up leaving kids scarred and slightly traumatised at the sight of adulthood.
Today, the place is called the Moonlit Bar, standing pristine with a mix of brick walls and polished wooden floors, stained glass windows, and blues music humming faintly from inside just as the front door swings open.
After years of not seeing him in person, you had thought that you would have a problem finding him. But it had turned out that he had been keeping contact with your parents, especially your Dad—in extension of him spending his free time with your uncle—and you had found out just where to ambush him without creating so much of a hassle or to attract the attention that you obviously have no time or energy to deal with.
Your heels sink between the gravels as you continue to walk closer towards the bar. The sounds of men talking are heard as you grow closer, followed by a series of laughter coming with the voice that you have known for a long time. Even before you can see him, as the talking men are still concealed behind the truck that is parked right in front of the bar, your heartbeat has already started picking up, pounding rapidly the closer you are to get to him. And with each pound of your heartbeat, you can feel the ominous throb coming from the ring inside your purse, further intensifying all the tension you currently have running through your body.
And then, finally, you are there, right where you need to be after walking around the parked truck to be able to have a clear view of the bar’s own front door, only to stumble right the moment you find him.
Standing on the front porch, looking all gloriously in his presence is Kim Namjoon, the man and the devil himself, whose wide smile that he shared with his friend falls for a brief moment at the sight of you coming over to him before his lips curl up to a sly grin.
Namjoon waves at his friend who knows not to stay and is already hopping away to his parked car in the lot before he turns to you. “Well, look at what the cat dragged in,” he says, leaning back against a column on the front porch with his arms crossed as he takes you in. His eyes are glowing with mirth, though you can sense him holding something back, using his haughtiness against you to hold it back in.
You stop on your tracks, staying just a few steps away from the porch’s stairs as you cross your own arms. “I thought you were allergic to cats.”
Namjoon shrugs. “Still am,” he says, dragging his words while he drags his gaze, looking at you from the top of your head and down to your fancy heels. His intense gaze makes you feel self-conscious, while your skin begins to flush not only for the way he is looking at you, but also at the sight of him.
With the years that had gone by, you have never expected to see him changing this much. He has always been so tall, but the last time you had seen him, he was still his lanky old self, completely careless to the way he looked or how he presented himself.
Today, he is standing there with his flannel shirt, the short sleeves folded up all the way to his shoulders, exposing his strong arms, muscles grown from the years that he had no doubt been spending working out and out on runs, all flexed tightly for your eyes to see as he keeps his arms crossed defiantly over his chest. And then there is his chest, looking all buff and strong, unlike the way he used to be back then, when he had looked way smaller compared to your massive built uncle who had insisted to have him join his exercises and workouts, when he appeared frail that it made you worry a lot whenever he had to deal with his carpentry and especially when he had taken the job at his father’s construction business.
All of a sudden, you feel the urge to clench your hands, only because a flash of memory comes into your head. You still remember how it felt to run your hands down his skin, how he would shudder under your touch when you pressed your palms on his chest. And then your mind wanders yet again, only to imagine what it would feel like if you would run your palms down to his chest today, to trace his tight muscles, to feel the heat of his skin, and—
“So what are you doing here, stranger? Did you get lost? Forgot your way back to the big city?” he begins questioning you, snapping you right out of your trance. You look up to see his eyes, noticing the way they are glinting with amusement, as if he had caught on to you ogling at him.
“No, actually. I’m here looking for you,” you respond to him while averting your gaze, shaking your head to shake off the blunder that has suddenly gotten into you and get your mind out of the gutter.
“Oh, really?” he asks, sounding intrigued. “Mind if I ask why?”
Again, your heartbeat picks up, and you swallow deeply to stop yourself from throwing up out of nerves. Pressing your lips together, you reach into your purse to pull out a brown envelope that contains the papers that you had prepared prior to coming here. Taking it in your hand, you take a few steps closer to him and hand it out for him to grab.
“I’m here for this,” you tell him, keeping your voice calm and steady as you continue, “I want you to sign the divorce papers. And I’m going to need you to do it now.”
His eyes fall on the envelope that you are handing out to him, a flicker of his surprise and his emotions that you cannot really read from him appear in his gaze for a brief moment before they disappear, replaced by a look of astonishment that comes together with his smile.
“No,” is all that he says to you.
“What?” you simply gasp out your reaction while your courage simply shatters into pieces.
“I said no. I’m not signing that.”
Rage comes boiling in your blood and you lower your hand roughly that the envelope brushes against your thigh with a loud slap. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m not signing.”
“Why? What’s the point?” you try to protest. Stopping only to take a deep breath to calm yourself down before levelling your voice, keeping it down when you continue to speak, “Namjoon, we’ve been separated for a long time. We never even talked nor have we seen each other since I left town, much less living like a normal pair of husband and wife. Do you really want us to get stuck in this—this, whatever this is, until we both grow old, despising one another while we’re rotting to death?”
Namjoon’s gaze turns hard as he lowers his arms. “I’m not signing because I can’t.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” you hiss at him, though it doesn’t seem that getting emotional is doing much to help you in this matter.
Namjoon exhales a deep sigh and looks around him. He keeps his eyes looking far away and over your shoulder, staring at the shadows that aren’t exactly present when he speaks, “Why don’t you come inside so we can talk properly without worrying about people listening in? I know that I owe you at least a drink or two.” His eyes find you again before he gives you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, the same eyes that are still giving you a hard gaze. “What do you say, city girl? Or are you too fancy now to try out the local brews?”
You keep staring at him with disbelief as he turns around and makes his way back into the tavern without waiting for your response. Deep down, you know that he is right. It would be better to be talking about this inside, away from any prying eyes and curious ears listening in. God knows what the rumour mill is already spreading about the connection between your return and your visit to Namjoon’s bar while you are standing out here for everyone to see. And you are also curious to hear about what he is about to tell you. After taking a quick look around you, you slip the envelope back into your purse and dust off your skirt from the invisible dust before stepping up onto the porch.
Namjoon is still standing by the entrance, waiting for you to follow as he holds the door open for you. His smile doesn’t seem at all welcoming when you look at him, but feels more like a taunt. Despite knowing that you would be caught in a place where he holds all control, you don’t stop yourself from going around him and walk through the door. “Let’s get this over with,” you tell him as you walk past, only to have him responding to you with a deep chuckle as you sense him following you in.
“Oh, Sweet Cheeks, you have no idea. I haven’t even started yet.”
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Stepping into his bar feels like stepping into a completely different world from what you had outside.
Even in the daytime, the bar had been kept slightly dark, with only a few probe lights illuminating the room from the corners of the seating area, some lights are spread around the bar, and some of the brightest are set around the empty stage in the center of the room, highlighting the music instruments placed there to be ready for use. You can feel Namjoon’s warmth as he follows close, right until the moment you come to a halt at the center of the room and he walks around you to make his way towards the bar counter.
He says nothing as he looks over his shoulder to meet your gaze, but the look in his eyes is enough to have you following him towards the bar. You can see that a few patrons are present as you walk across the room, and neither of them are looking your way. Some of them are enjoying their meal, while some are simply there to chat with each other while enjoying their beer and the light music playing from the old jukebox across the room. The silly device looks awfully too bright against the darker room around it, catching your attention so easily. Judging from the looks of it and how old it seems, you wonder just how that thing is still running.
Namjoon stops at a seating booth nearby the bar counter, quite hidden from the rest of the place. Simply perfect to finally have the talk. He watches you coming closer and gives you his sweet and charming smile that you have grown used to know, added with a pinch of his smugness, then motions for you to take the seat right across from him.
“You seem to be doing well. And I have to admit that this place looks nice,” you say to him after a beat of silence. You find it almost awkward to be sitting here with him and not saying anything. But you have found a long time ago that both you and Namjoon had always managed to find comfort in your silence.
Except that part of your life had ended a long time ago, and you barely know the man who is sitting right in front of you today.
Namjoon’s lips curl up to a smile, and you can tell that he is pleased to hear your compliment and he takes a lot of pride in bringing this place together. You can obviously see it when he leans back, taking a good look at the place with a look of wonder in his eyes. And you cannot help but admit that you share the same pride inside you for seeing how far he had gone since you left.
“How did you find me?” he suddenly asks you before his eyes find you again.
You keep your eyes on him for a moment, studying the look he is giving you only to give up when you find nothing. Giving him a shrug, you answer him with a small smile. “Small town. Everyone talks. Just ask the right question to the right people and they all come pointing their fingers to help me find you.”
Namjoon grins. “Your uncle told you about this place, didn’t he? Did he specifically told you that you can find me here today?”
A chuckle escapes you as you nod. “He came to the house to barge into our dinner last night the moment he heard from Dad that I was home. Couldn’t stop talking about you and how you managed to pick this place back up and keeping it from falling to the ground. Said you re-built everything with your own two hands.”
Namjoon simply gives you nothing but silence instead of confirming what your uncle had told you last night. And he did more than just to let you know where you can find and perhaps corner Namjoon into talking to you.
You had thought that your uncle may have been exaggerating things when he talked about Namjoon and about all the things that the man had done for the town ever since you left. But seeing this place now and how he carries himself around the bar and around you is beginning to make you wonder just how much things have truly changed since then. There is a glint in his eyes that is hard for you to decipher, though it makes you feel like he is able to look through you without so much of saying a word. You open your mouth to speak again, to strike a conversation, to say anything, just to keep the ball rolling and to start getting straight to the point where he would provide some answers, only to be interrupted by a waitress who comes sidling to the side of the booth.
You turn to the girl, expecting her to ask for your orders just so you can quickly send her away, only to realise that she doesn’t even have her eyes on you. The waitress simply stands there with her hips popped to the side, keeping one arm pressed around the underside of her boobs to practically push the girls up and making them look bigger as the peak of the mound come peeking from over her low cut shirt and her other hand is nowhere close to holding her notes. To you, she appears to be a bit—ditzy, as she tries to gain Namjoon’s attention, but her presence amuses you too much to make a comment out of it.
“What are you having, Joonie?” she asks with a voice slightly whining to make herself sound cute for your dear husband, and yet Namjoon pays her no attention, giving her not even a glance as he keeps his eyes on you.
Amused at this development, you lean back in your seat and cross your arms over your chest to taunt him. “Yes, what are we having, Joonie?”
Namjoon’s lips twitch for a brief moment, as if he is holding back a smile. Yet he keeps his eyes locked on your face when he finally answers, “I’ll have the beer from the tap, and tell Bernie to make my wife here a glass of Manhattan.”
You glance over as the poor waitress stiffens. Her eyes grow wide as she glances back and forth between you and her employer before she stutters, “Y-your wife?”
Leaning forward, you address the girl with a sly grin. “You heard the man. And yes, I’m his dear old wife. Please make sure that Bernie makes mine a little sweet, will you?” you ask her, making her look even more flustered before nodding. “Thank you, darling,” you call out to her with a teasing wink right as she starts scrambling off towards the bar where Bernie—your father’s old fishing mate who is also Namjoon’s second cousin—is tending the bar.
The sound of Namjoon’s deep chuckle pulls your attention back to him. You remember how that sound used to make your stomach twist with butterflies fluttering inside you, and you hate to admit that it is still giving you the same effect, albeit a bit muted due to the fact that everything between you had turned into shambles. You simply doubt that you can escape from feeling all the pain coming back to you again each time you think of the past, so you suppress the sensation happening inside your belly, ignoring it the best you can as you begin to push him into talking.
“Why won’t you sign the divorce papers, Namjoon? I’ve been sending them to you so we can get things over with without us having to go through the court and all the unnecessary legal battles you know waiting for us. All you had to do was sign them. I thought you wanted this? Why do you keep sending them back to me?”
Namjoon says nothing, but keeps his eyes looking down on the table while he rubs his hand over his rugged face. The moment his gaze finds yours again, it looks terribly guarded, as if there is a wall standing between you and he has chosen to hide behind it.
“Don’t you want to move on, maybe get lucky with little miss sweet thing right there?” you ask him with a tilt of your head aimed at the waitress who still seems a bit frazzled as she talks rapidly with another girl. The disbelief on their faces seems almost comical, though it brings an odd feeling into your chest to know that there are girls like them, other women, that he could pick from. Women who seem to adore him the way that waitress does.
While you are suddenly left wondering about this, the question that you have given him finally draws a reaction from him, even if it only comes in the form of a scoff. His eyes soften for a brief moment when he holds back another smile, before they both disappear the moment he notices you watching, soon to be replaced with a faked mirth when he shrugs. “She’s not my type. Frankly, I’m not that big into dating when I legally still have a wife. Even if she’s busy trying to conquer the world, leaving me in this town to rescue old buildings from falling into the ground.”
This time, you are the one giving him a scoff. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been with anyone else since we separated.”
Namjoon doesn’t answer you right away, but falls silent instead. Leaning forward, he crosses his arms and rests them on the table as he levels his gaze on you. His eyes are intense, piercing through you just enough to make you shudder, that you nearly miss it when he answers you with, “I haven’t.”
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“When Daisy told me that Namjoon’s wife is here, I just had to come and deliver these drinks myself.”
Bernie’s large figure fills the space around you just by standing at the side of the booth. He drops the large-sized tankard filled with beer with a loud thump on the table for Namjoon while he sets down your martini cocktail gently for you. Seeing him there and listening to his boastful laugh makes your heart feel warn that you cannot resist sliding out of the booth to wrap your arms around him.
“Bernie, it’s good to see you,” you hum softly as you embrace the man who had become more like a second father to you at some point in your life.
“You look awfully good for a city girl,” Bernie says after patting gently on your back and releasing you. He crosses his arms over his chest, his gaze looking up and down as he takes you in. You have no idea what he sees in you, but you can see pride coming out of his gaze. “Heard from your uncle this morning that you’re home. Didn’t expect to see you hanging around this side of town, much less to visit here. The drink’s on the house, my treat to welcome you home,” he says, nodding at your untouched glass while Namjoon gives him a light scoff. The big guy turns to your soon-to-be ex-husband and raises his eyebrows. “What? You can just cut it off my pay.”
“There’s no need, big guy. He already said he’s paying for this,” you say to him before Namjoon can say a thing.
Bernie raises his brows once more. “Really, now? Then the second glass will be my treat,” he says, before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulls you in to whisper, “Just don’t tell your Dad I gave you more than a glass.”
His sly comment makes you laugh. “You know I’ve passed being twenty-one a long time ago, Bernie. Dad should know that I can handle my drinks just fine.”
“Oh, but you’ll always be your Dad’s baby girl even if you’ve made it big in the city. You know that, don’t ya?” Bernie says with a shake of his head, and then he follows your eyes as you take a good look around, noticing some of the areas that you had failed to pay attention to when you first came in. “See what he did to the place, Pumpkin? Joon here did all of this by himself—with a lot of our help, of course. Said he did it all for—”
“Bernie,” Namjoon quickly cuts him off before Bernie can say anything else. The bartender looks over with a questioning gaze while Namjoon simply stays calm. “You got some customers coming.”
You raise a questioning brow at him, wondering just what Bernie may have been trying to tell you before he was cut off. But Namjoon tilts his chin up towards the bar’s entrance and both you and Bernie turn to look. Sure enough, a group of young men walk past the front door just then, almost too conveniently, letting Bernie know that it is time for him to get back on the job. The big man looks over his shoulder to you and shrugs.
“Right. Well, I’ll catch up with you a little later, Pumpkin,” he says as he playfully messes with your hair before turning back to the bar.
“Take care, big Bernie,” you call out to him then return to your seat, facing Namjoon once again. You avert your eyes when you find him still watching you, taking your time as you taste the drink that had been made for you with a few small sips while letting it run down your throat to calm your nerves.
“So, where were we?” you ask him while leaning back in your seat.
Namjoon remains calm when he answers, “The papers.”
You nod. “And you were telling me why you’re still not signing.”
Once again, Namjoon gives you nothing but silence. He takes a few big gulps from his drink, making you wait until he sets the glass down and leans forward. “Why do you want to get out of this marriage so bad?” he finally asks you, looking awfully curious as he studies your face. Neither of you says a thing until the glint of mirth in his eyes dims down and his smile falls, bringing a painful pinch into your chest upon seeing his reaction. And the pinch brings even more pain when he mutters softly, “You’ve found someone.”
You frown at your hands, unable to look at him. “I’m just trying to move on, Joon.”
Namjoon nods with a blank expression on his face. “And I already told you that I can’t sign it.”
You raise your head and frown at him. “And why is that, exactly?”
Suddenly, his face turns a little sour, though you can see a flash of sadness coming across his face. “Winny.”
Your breath gets caught in your throat while you can feel your heart plummeting down your stomach at the mention of her name. Winny, Namjoon’s grandmother and—legally still—your grandmother-in-law. Though Winny is not exactly her real name, the name that toddler Namjoon had officially given her when he couldn’t specifically call her as ’grandma’ nor that he could pronounce her name properly at such a young age. The name had stuck with your grandmother-in-law ever since, and she had always let both you and Namjoon continue using the name to address her while growing up together, and it had even lasted until you both have grown into adults.
“Did you know that Winny got a heart attack early this year?” Namjoon asks you, and you are beginning to see just where this is all going.
Nodding your head, you take your glass in your hand, taking one swipe of a drink before you can talk about it. “Your Mom called to tell me about it when it just happened. I called your grandmother after she woke up from it and we talked through the phone for a long time,” you begin to tell him, sighing deeply as you recall about the phone conversation that you had with her at the time. A frown comes to you when you recall how the conversation went, how she reacted to your voice, and sympathy comes when you remember everything that she said to you then, “She seemed confused, asking me why I’m not back for the term break yet and if I’ll be home for the holidays. She kept talking as if I hadn’t finished law school or even had the job in the firm yet, and it sounded like she believed that we’re still together.”
Namjoon studies your face for a moment. “And yet you still didn’t question it, nor did you correct her to remind her that we are no longer happily married, or that you had graduated from school years ago.”
Slowly, you only shake your head. “I had to play along cause I didn’t want to upset her.”
Namjoon takes another drink. You can see the sadness in his eyes returning to him full force and it has you doing everything you can to hold back from reaching out to him and hold his hands to give him some comfort. Ever since he was a little boy, Namjoon had always been close to Winny. His grandmother had always been strict to all of her grandchildren, but the woman had treated him a bit special back when he was growing up while at the same time, treated him as if he was her own child, giving him advices that had eventually helped guide Namjoon up to a point where he started making his own mess. That was how the two of them formed a bond with each other when Namjoon was entering adulthood. A tight bond that had always been so strong that you know it would have been hard for Namjoon to deal with her illness.
“She called me this morning, said she heard that you came back home. I’m not sure how she found out, but she was asking a lot of questions about you. She specifically wanted to know why I haven’t taken you to see her yet and if there’s any specific food she should cook for you to welcome you back. Though she might be asking my Mom for help on that,” Namjoon says with a low chuckle, shaking his head. “That was how I found out that you were back in town.”
Hearing this, you can only sigh. You hate to think of the strong-willed woman having trouble with her memories and dealing with her regular days. “What did you say to her?”
Namjoon only shrugs. “I just told her that you might still be exhausted from the trip, and that you would call her once you have gotten some time settling in. You know, all of that. Even if I had no idea how to make that happen. Just like Bernie said, neither of us really expected you’d be coming here on your own.”
You look down on your hands, wondering how things seem to suddenly be on your way. It seems like fate is trying to test you. Just like how it did years ago when you were younger, when you were too hot-headed to play along and had ended up leaving.
Namjoon leans in, whispering softly just so you can be the only one to hear it when he says, “She’s still confused, ______. Her memory is still stuck in the past after that heart attack.”
“I realised that much when I talked to her. I was hoping that it would gradually get better in time. I guess that was a bit too much to hope for,” you answer him, nodding your head solemnly. Deep down, you really do feel sad for her. Winny had always been larger than life, easy and fun to be with, and had always been the wise voice that you listened to when you were still together with Namjoon. The situation makes you feel bad about it. And yet, it doesn’t stop you from wondering, “What does signing the divorce papers have to do with Winny’s condition?”
Namjoon pinches his lips together and clenches his jaw for a moment. “The old Winny before the heart attack had known that we were separated. And though she kept trying to get us to reconcile, she was starting to accept the fact that we may never get back together,” he says, lowering his voice as he speaks, even if there is no one getting close enough to listen in. “Present-day Winny still thinks that you are returning next year after finishing law school and that we are still going to run her old office once my dad and uncle retire.”
Sighing, you murmur softly to yourself when you finally understand, “She still thinks that we’re together and still happily married.”
Namjoon’s jaw tightens when he nods his head. “That’s not the only problem,” he whispers, sounding nearly like a groan when he is speaking while letting out an exasperated sigh. “Do you remember our deal, when we first got into this marriage?”
Your mind instantly flies back to the past. To the moment when you had just graduated from high school, when you were both had been so young and lost after making one of the biggest mistakes of your lives and receiving a blessing that had come at the worst period of time, and how both your family and Namjoon’s had cornered you both to the point that you had almost agreed to Namjoon’s suggestion of running away and eloping just to escape their wrath. That had been a messy time of your lives until Winny swooped in, playing devil’s advocate as she tried to diffuse the situation in her own way before all hell would break loose.
Then you are reminded of the one crucial part of the entire ordeal that had changed everything.
The trust fund.
The account that Winny had set up for your small growing family, all to ease the tension running through both families upon finding out their high school graduates kids were expecting a baby instead of college acceptance letters, and to reassure both you and Namjoon that you would be taken care of no matter what your fathers had tried to punish you both with. It was the part of the deal that had you agreeing to legally marry each other before the baby would come along and to have it occurring right in front of your entire family and about a half part of the town attending the ceremony as witnesses.
How you had forgotten about all of this is beyond you. It feels like such a long time ago, a distant memory of your past that had somehow gotten buried almost completely in the back of your mind. And yet, you can feel the same dread and grief that you haven’t felt for a long time rolling through you at the thought of it.
“After we lost our—” Namjoon’s voice breaks before he could say it out loud, and he clears his throat before he can continue. “She still kept the trust fund, telling my Dad that she would one day hand everything to both of us if we ever get back together.”
Your eyes grow wide upon hearing this. Though you have always known what Winny had been planning to do, you had never thought that she would actually keep her words. And that she would have waited for this long to keep the account running despite seeing no other possibilities that you and Namjoon would come back together.
Rubbing a hand over his face, Namjoon looks at you with a mix of hope and depletion in his eyes, before he finally gets to the point. “I have—some plans. Big plans. And I won’t lie to you, I’m going to need that money. I thought that perhaps I could just borrow it so I can have things running and then I would return them once everything pulls through. Just as long as she doesn’t go and donate the funds someplace else first. That’s what she said to us, by the way. That she’d rather hand the money to someone else that would actually care about it than let it sit in her account with nowhere to go because we’re too stubborn to—you know.”
Surprised to hear this new development, on what sounds more like a threat that—you do have to admit—does sound like something Winny would say, you cannot help but laugh. “Would she really do something like that?”
Namjoon’s lips curl to a small smile. “She may have implied a few times—almost at least twice each year—that she would do it one day. That was before she got sick,” he says with a sigh, and you can only shake your head in wonder.
“So how are we supposed to do this? How are the legal work and the papers play a role in this?”
Namjoon ponders about it for a moment before speaking with a low voice, “I’ll sign the papers, if you really want me to, but I’m going to need your help first. My parents have been talking about having a family retreat, rent a cottage up in the mountains for a quiet Christmas family outing so Winny can get the break she needs. Initially, it would have been just us, the immediate family. But Winny already knows that you’re in town and she sounded terribly excited to see you and to spend time with you while you’re here, so I figured that this might be a good chance.”
And too much of a coincidence, you wonder to yourself. But you say nothing. Because Namjoon has no way to arrange all of this just when you are coming back just to sever the ties. Once again, you curse at fate, hating the way you are forced to play its game yet again.
“Come with me, join us, stay a bit longer in town, just until after we’ve shown Winny that we’re doing okay. You know that she adores you so much, so maybe having you with her would help her get better,” Namjoon continues, sounding almost pleading when he shares his ideas. “Unfortunately, playing a role and acting like a regular married couple in front of her won’t be enough. We need to make sure that we’re still legally married while we’re doing all of that act together, just in case she goes out of her way and checks everything out.”
Chuckling softly, you cannot help but smile. “Knowing Winny, I suppose that we do have to prepare for something like that to happen. As long as she finds a way, she’d be digging everything out to expose us for deceiving her,” you murmur softly as you think of Winny and her antics.
Namjoon laughs. “Don’t forget that she has her own lawyers. Might not be as big as you guys in the big city, but these people would do anything that Winny asks them to. I don’t think my Dad or uncle would be able to do anything to cover it up once the divorce is legalised before I can get my hands on the money.”
Laughing at this, you know that he is absolutely right. Your mind flies back to another period of time in the past where Winny had gone and send out her lawyers to handle the mess that her grandchildren had created all over town. Once, she had even sent out the same lawyers to investigate the tenant of a new apartment building where Namjoon’s sister lived, accusing them of trying to con the poor girl by setting up some shady deals when she was trying to extend her rent for another year.
Winny had always been protective of her family, and she had always managed to find a way, no matter how extensive, to make sure everyone is safe.
“How important is it to you to pull this through? How badly do you want—no, need it, that you have to go this far?”
Namjoon smiles at your question. “You tell me. You are the one who has always had big dreams to chase,” he says, and you can sense a sudden change in his voice. Something that sounds wistful, while at the same time, a bit envious, even. But then his expression turns a bit solemn. “But I also want to see Winny get better. We’ve tried everything. We’ve turned to different doctors, hospitals, specialists, and we even got her through a bunch of therapies that did no good but left her feeling tired all the time that we had to stop everything before things would go from bad to worse. You are pretty much our only hope at this point.”
And mine.
Those were the words that he didn’t say out loud, but you can see it in his eyes. The desperate need to make sure that things will go in his way. It makes you curious to know what he has planned, perhaps something to do with his project on restoring old places and bringing this town back up—just like what your uncle said about something that Namjoon seems to want.
There is a mix of different feelings running inside you after listening to him speak. Starting with a punch in the gut when he mentioned your ‘dreams’, feeling like he was taunting you about it. Then there is the same pinch of sympathy and dread when you think about the woman that you had looked up to for a long time having such a hard time. Suddenly, you just want to be there for her, to help her and her family for one last time before you would walk away from all of this for good, just like the way she had been helping you through one of the toughest times of your life then.
And perhaps, in the process, you can help Namjoon too. For old time sake.
“Fine, I’ll stay for the charade. I’ll help you, as long as you promise to sign the divorce papers before I leave town,” you say this to Namjoon, keeping your eyes looking straight into his. “But I’ll only stay until after the family retreat, and not a day longer.”
The expression Namjoon is giving you is still unreadable, and you are starting to hate just how you are unable to read through him when you used to know him better than you knew yourself. But there is also something in his eyes that you manage to catch on to before it fades. A feeling of relief, as if you had just given him hope, no matter how small it is compared to what he truly needs. Though he is quick to mask it all away, hiding his emotions much better than you ever could have when he nods and answers you with,
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Coming home from meeting Namjoon has left you feeling more lost than resolved.
You had known that it wouldn’t be easy to get through to him and you had gone to see him without so much of a hope to return with the result that you had wanted on your first try. You had known all along that Namjoon may have something up his sleeve because you have been sending the divorce papers repeatedly for the past year only to have him sending them back to you.
You had drafted the divorce papers ever since the day you realised that there was no way you were going to get back together when neither of you even bothered to make any effort of communicating with each other during the time you were apart. Not the same way you and Namjoon did it when you had simply gone away to law school. And after what had happened three years ago, you had thought that everything had officially ended.
You had always wondered why Namjoon had been so adamant in keeping this marriage together when there had been nothing left to fight for. But seeing him today and listening to his side of the story had given you a new perspective on the matter.
Had Winny always been a part of it?
You have had a lot of theories on why Namjoon would deny you the divorce when he had made it seem like he wanted nothing to do with you, not after the big fight you had that had sent you packing up and leave. But it had never crossed your mind that perhaps he had simply done it to be able to claim the trust fund from Winny.
But would that have been the case at all?
And if it was, then why does it make you feel—disappointed to hear it, when you had never even considered about the possibilities that he may still have some hopes to turn things around. No, you are not going there, you shake your head and scold yourself for even letting your mind stray to a place that you had not let yourself venture into for a long time. A place in your mind that you had pushed so far back by living your life away from the memories—burying all thoughts of your past by working the long hours, taking in the big cases that had left you too exhausted to think at the end of the day to remember him at all, making new acquaintances that had no knowledge of your past back home.
Starting a new relationship.
You had never intended to seek a new chance in a relationship with another man, nor have you ever expected to have Matthew, the junior associate that had only joined the law firm last year to somehow show any interest in you as soon as you met him and to have him pursuit you so publicly until you finally agreed to start going out with him. You had thought it would only turn out to be a fling or that he would have given up on you as soon as he recognised the walls you had put around you to guard your heart. But he had always been so insistent, and never once had he wavered no matter how much you tried to push him away.
And you certainly had never expected that he would ask you to marry him this soon, or ever, before you had any chance to deal with your past.
The sounds of laughter filling the room completely snaps you out of it, taking you back to your family who has gathered in the dining room for what would be the second family dinner where everyone is present. And it is not even Christmas night yet.
Sitting at the end of the table is your Dad, who is telling jokes from his workplace with the help of his brother, your uncle who had taken the seat on the other end. Your mother sits right across from you, forcing your brother to sit separately from his wife as he takes the seat right next to your Mom while your sister in law chooses to sit by your side.
Looking at your family together, you feel warmth surging inside your chest. Your arrival at home had become some kind of a momentous affair and everyone, who had rarely come to join your parents for dinner, had agreed to come just to spend time with you while you are home. For the past few nights since your return, the house has already felt a bit more festive, and it already feels like Christmas even if you still have a few more days to go.
Being here with them and seeing them gathering like this makes you realise that your departure from the town may have caused more heartaches than you had thought. That you might have not only broken off your marriage with Namjoon when you left, but had somehow created a complete mess in the family dynamics when you broke their hearts by leaving them as well.
You try to join the conversation as much as you can to ease the guilt, but your mind keeps going back to the conversation that you had with Namjoon today, replaying every word in your head until you can almost hear his voice all over again.
“You’ve found someone.”
You recall how he had said those words, the odd look on his face and the low tone of voice that he had when he spoke. Had it been hurt that you saw in his eyes?
You had no idea whether or not to believe him when he said that he had never been with anyone else even after you had parted ways. It suddenly seemed unfair to think about it, though you don’t really have the interest to worry about him the way you used to. Not anymore.
You had spent too many years doing so in the past and look at where it got you. The small voice in your head is always there to remind you of the heartache that you had carried with you when you left town back then each time you begin to dwell too far into the past.
Focus on the future, you hear the same voice whispering to you once again, and your thumb easily slides to find the empty ring finger to brush against the indentation left by your engagement ring.
A regretful sigh escapes you when you think about the gorgeous diamond ring, of how you have kept it hidden in your purse still, never once putting it on ever since you had gotten here. You had been wearing it with pride since the day of the proposal, and yet, just thinking about the ring alone simply gives you a sense of shame as you sit there in the middle of your family with your secrets hidden too deep for them to see it.
You know that you would eventually have to reveal to your family and have them know that you had gotten engaged to someone else. You know that you cannot possibly hide it any longer, but there is no way your parents would take the news lightly, not while you are still legally married to Namjoon. Not until once the divorce is finalised and the ties between you and Namjoon would officially be severed through a simple exchange of signatures. Not while your parents are still following their old, conservative ways, and the news certainly would not make it easy to share with the kind of past that you have.
After all, it was only seven years ago when you came to your parents, straight out of high school, admitting to them that you had gotten pregnant because both you and Namjoon had been irresponsible and reckless about it. Not to mention the occasional events where you had gotten caught doing the naughties while you were both still dating each other all through high school to basically give your parents some clue of just how careless you had been then.
Thinking about it now, you suddenly cringe at the memory of your father coming home early from work to find you riding Namjoon’s lap on the wooden bench that he had built for your mother on the back porch.
It had happened during your senior year of high school, about a year after you began dating Namjoon and only weeks after losing your virginity to him. The night had ended with your father giving Namjoon ’the talk’ while keeping hold of him in the living room while your mother kept you in the dining room to have a long conversation about the birds and the bees. Not that it had done any good at the end.
Knowing what they had perceived you with your wanton ways as a teenage girl, there is no doubt where their mind would venture into had they known you have been having a relationship with another man. And they are not the only ones whose thoughts on it matter to you, you soon realise.
“I haven’t.”
You remember Namjoon admitting to you when you had thought that he might have been finding other women to spend his time with after you were gone. An admission that had made you feel relieved and yet guilty at the same time of what he might have been thinking when you implied to him about finding someone new. That he might imagine you sleeping with another man while you still hold the title of being his wife—even if they had only been nothing but in written papers.
There is no way for you to let him know the truth. That even when you let yourself open your heart to allow Matthew in, even if you had allowed yourself to feel love again, never once had you gone so far with Matthew to even sleep on the same bed with him, much less to make love to him. Not when the ties you still had with Namjoon had always held you back, stopping you from getting too far. Not when you would feel guilty and would think of yourself like a traitor to even receive something so simple like a kiss.
“I haven’t.”
His words continue to echo inside your head, while you silently admit the painful truth that you couldn’t give him then.
Neither have I.
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Three years ago…
You had once thought that you have had everything figured out. By the time you were in senior high school, you had everything planned out perfectly, all the possible ways that you could go through to achieve your goals written down from start to finish—starting from how you were going to leave town, then to study in a good university that could later bring you to places and lead you closer towards your dream. You had envisioned yourself to be someone who was more, someone who could go far and do bigger things in life, instead of being stuck in this small town for the rest of your life just like all the others.
Namjoon had always been in the picture since way before you had even started painting all these visions in your head.
When you were little, Namjoon had been the only one who was willing to listen to you rambling about your dreams, the only one who wouldn’t look at you funny over your obsession with your princess stories and on finding your own fairy tale ending. It had always been easy to share these things with Namjoon simply because he also had his own big dreams to share.
Just like you, Namjoon had always wanted to leave town, to venture out to new places, and he had found his own way to reach it as he joined the basketball team at school and had been playing while keeping his eyes on the sports scholarship as his ticket for his upcoming adventure. Together, you had written out all the details, planned out all the steps, and you had both been nothing but confident in achieving them as long as you had each other.
It took you rewriting your entire life story and the scenarios that you had envisioned since you were a young girl to finally understand that life could never be that simple.
No matter what your parents had called it, you would have never looked at it as a mistake. Having an unplanned pregnancy when you were still too young had been completely terrifying, a surprise that had come uninvited but had always been welcomed, and you still managed to adjust with all the changes, rewriting all the plans to fit the baby into your lives.
All of a sudden, you had no choice but to forget about all the universities you had been applying to and to set your mind in preparing for the baby, in learning and practising on how to become good parents, and building your small family with Namjoon. Your life suddenly expanded so rapidly that you had to shrink down your dreams. You had ended up having more reasons to stay in town, where you would have more people helping you, your families standing by your sides to guide you all the way through. The magical wedding you had envisioned many years ago became something more simple, more intimate, all to save up enough money to buy cribs, to afford to buy the small cabin near the lake where you could have your privacy and enough space for the nursery, and to save up enough funds for you to apply for the community college so you could still earn your degree.
Once again, you were all set up for another adventure, and Namjoon was always there with you to share the journey. It was the two of you against the world as you anticipated for your little one to come, until once again, fate played a twisted game by sending you to another turning point where you had to walk through a different course in life.
An entire ordeal sent your world tilting off its axis, sending you to a new, empty path where there was no more baby, no more chance of having the small beautiful family that you had envisioned, and the only thing that was left had been your dreams, coloured with the sorrow of your loss and the crumbling hope of ever getting a little break.
The loss and grief had been so great, but you used those emotions to continue on moving, ignoring the pity look everyone was giving you as you carried on with your classes and exams and pushed yourself until you could figure out how to be able to get out of the town that had become even more suffocating with the memory of what you had lost. Slowly, you began rewriting a new story of your own, using the last bit of hope you had left to find your new happy ending.
The only thing you had never expected was to find yourself going down this new path on your own, while Namjoon remained stuck in the moment of grief.
You had somehow managed to excel through community college and was heading out to law school when you made a deal with Namjoon that he would soon join you. He had let go of the scholarship that he had gotten through basketball when he had his mind set on staying behind to build a family with you before giving up on basketball and chasing his dream entirely. But you gave him all the time and space he needed, choosing to wait instead of pushing him to run. You had gone to the big city on your own to attend law school, feeling confident enough to survive the temporary long-distance relationship until he would be ready to join you. Even if you were the one who had to make the effort of keeping the relationship last—from being the one to come to visit the town and spend time with him to set everything up for your future together for the day he would be ready for it.
It wasn’t until during the final visit that you made right before you were graduating from law school when you realised that Namjoon had never made an effort to move on and had completely given up—on everything.
“Is it so wrong to want more?”
That was the question that you had asked him then, when he had fought against every effort that you had put through to be able to continue on living and to push him into getting back on his feet so he could give his own dreams another chance.
“Is it so wrong for me to continue on living? For me to want you to live instead of—” you were too emotional to even form any word and had been waving your arms around instead, pointing at the messy bedroom in the cabin where he had been holed up in while you were away. “This has been going on for too long, Joon. You can’t put your life on hold like this, not this long.”
You had hoped that you could get through him somehow, change his mindset so he could try again and do it together with you. But the more you spoke, it kept getting clearer that nothing you said could get through to him. You might as well had been talking to a brick wall with the way he kept being obstinate, too stubborn for his own good, and it was getting too tiring to even try. But you had to, if not for his sake, then for the sake of saving your marriage. Even if you could feel the last sliver of hope you had was slowly chipping away the more you spoke to him.
“What’s the point? I won’t get drafted anywhere by now. That chance has been lost for me.” His eyes were hard as he said this, and it was obvious that he had made his own mind about it. A flash of depletion came flashing out of his eyes when he finally returned your gaze after he kept avoiding your eyes the entire time, before the hardness returned and you saw nothing but lost hope. “Perhaps it’s just not meant to be,” he muttered, and it was both disheartening, enough to make you feel hurt inside, while at the same time it made your blood start boiling with your devastation.
“So what? You’re just going to hole up here for the rest of your life doing nothing?” you scoffed at him, finally snapping at him. “Haven’t you thought about how it could possibly be your second chance? That maybe it’s a sign for you to try again?”
When all he could give you was silence, the only thing you could do was shake your head, still refusing to accept this. “All I’m asking you is for you to try. With me. We can do this together.”
Namjoon clenched his jaw for a moment. “What if it’s not something that I want?” he said then. “I don’t have big dreams like you do.”
The painful pinch inside your chest almost made it impossible for you to speak. “You used to have dreams.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, but look at where it got me. Look at where it got us. You wouldn’t have gotten a miscarriage if it wasn’t for—” His voice was strangled with emotions that he simply stopped, the clench of his jaw tightened as he tried to hold back from saying anything more, from talking about him—the baby boy that had once hold your entire world while he was still living inside your womb.
For some reason, you had expected this. The loss had been too great for both of you and you were both had been too young to deal with the grief. It had taken a lot for you to finally be able to move on, to leave the town where you had buried your unborn child. You could see the grief in his eyes, appearing just as strongly as how you had felt it. You understood fully well the pain that he felt. Hell, you were the one who carried the child for almost nine months before he suddenly stopped moving inside your belly.
No more brain activity, they said, reassuring you that the exhaustion that you had from splitting your days between classes, working on your part-time job, and supporting Namjoon in his games had nothing to do with it. But it was harder to convince Namjoon about it when his guilt had been planted too deep in his mind, when he still blamed himself for letting you join him on his away game and getting you sick days before it happened.
“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just happened!” you nearly screamed as you tried to make him see this, but then you took a deep breath and decided to try a different angle. “Look, I’ve gotten things figured out. I’m graduating in a few months and I’ve applied for a job at a law firm so that I can—”
“Good for you, then. I’ve always known that you would make it,” he cut you off before you could even begin to lay out your plans, everything that you had envisioned for when he would finally join you in the city. Namjoon had a smile on his face when he said this, and something in your head was telling you that nothing about it was right.
“I want you to be there with me. I’ve been waiting for the moment that you would finally come with me so we can make it together,” you said to him with a small voice while Namjoon only kept shaking his head.
“I can’t join you.”
You began moving your head from side to side. You hated the thought of giving him an ultimatum, but you knew that you could no longer put your life on hold for him. “I can’t wait for you until you change your mind on your own.”
The way Namjoon was looking at you made your heart stop, before you could feel a crack building when he said, “Then we’re at an impasse.”
“I suppose we are,” was the only thing you could say to him, though you could barely get the words out when your throat was caught, both with pain and anger. “I’ve spent days, weeks, worrying about you, planning and preparing for everything so you can join me—”
“Maybe you shouldn’t.”
Your heart was pounding so hard at this point that you could barely hear your own voice. “What do you mean?” you asked him, your voice almost strangled with the pain hurting you from within. You could almost hear it when your heart was starting to break apart, but you needed to be sure. “Are you saying—”
His eyes softened when he looked at you, even if you could see the hardness in them when he gave you a smile, giving you a false sense of sincerity when he said. “I’m saying that it’s not worth it. I’ll always love you, _____. But I don’t think this is going to work anymore. It’s obvious that we’re both walking in two different paths now. We’ll end up hurting each other if we continue doing this, you know that.”
You were too lost for words to speak, too broken to respond to him. Tears began to form in your eyes, but you refused to cry right in front of him. Breathing in deeply, you swallow all the pain down, letting your rage take its place.
“Fuck you, Namjoon. You’re right. It’s not worth it. I’m sorry I even wasted my time with you.”
That was the last thing you ever said to him before turning away, not giving him another glance when you walked away from him, leaving him and the town behind for good as you silently accepted the fact that you would never find your happy ending in this place. Not anymore.
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Present day…
[from Matthew] I’m sorry about what I said on the phone last night. I was feeling disappointed that I won’t get to see you this weekend and I unintentionally took it out on you. I hope you’re having a great time with your family. Please call me back.
You barely finish reading the whole text before shutting the app off and tossing the cellphone into your purse with a deep sigh. You turn away to look out the window, watching the trees and the hills passing by as Namjoon keeps on driving up the mountain roads, hoping that the silence and the sight of the scenery—even though you have them all covered under a blanket of snow—can calm you down before getting into the whole charade.
But nothing seems to go past Namjoon’s attention, when he only gives you a brief moment of silence before asking, “Is there something wrong?”
Pressing your lips together, you silently contemplate your answer. What are you supposed to tell him? That you had a fight last night through the phone call with your fiancé after letting him know that you will be staying a bit longer, that it is still unnerving to you just how mad your fiancé got after hearing that you are having an extended Christmas celebration with your family instead of coming home the next morning after Christmas dinner like you had promised him you would? Or should you tell him how upset your fiancé had been when you had accidentally sent him a photo of yourself at home while you weren’t wearing the engagement ring? That would surely start quite an interesting conversation with your husband—even if the title that he still carries would only last until the moment all of this charade is over.
“Nothing,” you finally answer him before turning to look at his face. Sometimes you still feel like you are dreaming when you see him driving this fancy four-wheel truck by himself. He used to hate driving through town, choosing to either ride with his friends or hitch a ride with your brother in his truck whenever he had to go to places that would have needed quite a drive from home. He seems to be a lot calmer and more collected now as he leads the truck up the tricky roads, knowing exactly where to go without so much of a fuss. Unlike back then when he had sat right by your side when you first learned how to drive.
“It’s just nerves,” you quickly add as soon as you notice that Namjoon is still expecting for you to explain. “I suppose it’s finally getting to me that we’re going to be holed up in one place, together with two families and a very attentive grandmother. And we’ll be coming in as an estranged married couple in the middle of it. Oh, let’s add the fact that I haven’t been in town for three years to know everything that’s been going on so I’m not completely sure just how we are supposed to pass Winny’s test with flying colours.”
Namjoon chuckles softly as he keeps his eyes on the road. “If you put it that way, I guess I’d be nervous about it too,” he says, suddenly reaching out to grab your hand and give it a little squeeze. “Don’t worry, we got this. We already had our stories lined up and I’m sure that she wouldn’t notice how detached you have been with the family and the whole town. She still thinks you’ve been away in school, after all.”
The touch that Namjoon gives you makes your chest stir a little. It has you growing rigid in your seat when your body seems to be reacting to him and yet you try your best to hide it. But the moment he pulls away, you immediately feel the loss. Your eyes follow his hand as he grips the steering wheel while you clench your hands on your lap, already missing his light touch and wishing to have his hand resting on yours again.
Grabbing your empty left hand with your right one, you clutch them together tightly to stop yourself from reaching out to him just as you respond to him, “That is true. But we need to make sure to remind my Mom not to talk about Missy’s pregnancy with her third child since it wouldn’t line up with the timeline.” You almost roll your eyes when you say this, since it is the only thing that your mother had been talking about during family dinners. Especially since your best friend had specifically asked your mother if she would be available to watch over the other two little ones when the time would come for the baby to arrive.
You almost grimace when you think about this. It’s not that you are not happy with Missy’s good news. But being near a pregnant woman had always made you feel uncomfortable, much less to hear it being talked about constantly. It doesn’t matter if she is your best friend and that she had been there during your own pregnancy and your loss, but being reminded of that phase in your life had been extremely hard for you to deal with.
“Dutifully noted,” Namjoon responds to you with a smile, unaware of where your mind had wandered off to. “How are your parents taking this, though? I know that this situation isn’t quite ideal and it doesn’t seem fair to get them all involved.”
You release a sigh. “It sure isn’t, but they try to understand. They both care about Winny, after all, so they didn’t question it too much. I think the prospect of getting to enjoy the holiday break outside of the house became their top priority to think about so they really don’t think much about everything else.”
Your parents had been surprised when you told them about your plans to join Namjoon and his family on their trip to the mountains. Whatever they had expected when you announced that you were going to see Namjoon and to have one of the most life-changing conversations of all, it was probably nowhere close to this, and neither of you could imagine it would end up this way. But then Namjoon extended his invitation to have your parents come along on the trip, and they simply stopped questioning it. Even if it has become pretty obvious that your father is still feeling a bit wary about the whole thing.
As the drive continues and the air grows denser, you are relieved that there is only the two of you in this ride, with your families traveling separately as they all left early at dawn to beat the bad weather. While Namjoon’s parents had gone to the mountain cottage first with Winny and his sister, you had convinced your parents and your dear uncle to join Bernie in his truck so that you can have some more time with Namjoon to plan things out properly. It had also been his idea to come together as a unit, showing a front that would please Winny by coming together in the same car as if you had been staying in the same old cabin that you had lived in with Namjoon since you came back.
“How do your parents feel about all of this?” you ask him in the middle of the conversation, just as you are reminded of his mother, who had treated you like a second daughter since you got married to Namjoon. You have grown so close to each other that she had even gone to the city with your parents to attend your graduation from law school three years ago.
“Just as I told you before, all we really want is for Winny to get better. No matter at what cost. They, uh—they know what we’re planning to do, but only to the point that we are going to be there together to indulge Winny. I can definitely say that the news had pretty much surprised my parents when I told them about you coming on this trip, but I think they’re just happy to know that you’re going to be there for her. That, and because we can finally have you joining our family this year.”
You nod your head, ignoring the feeling of longing blooming in your chest at the thought of meeting his family again. “How’s your Mom doing?”
Namjoon’s smile grows. “She’s doing great. She’s been busy with her shop downtown, but overall, I think she’s having the best time of her life with it,” he says, his eyes flickering between you and the road while his smile widens when he sees you smiling back.
“I’m glad to hear that. She had always wanted to do her own thing.”
“She’s also been helping me out at the bar. You know that she’s acting as the head manager, right? Practically Bernie’s boss and she gets to boss see around, even if I own the fucking place,” he says with a chuckle that rises up to a series of laughter after seeing your reaction to what he had just told you. “I’m serious! She was the first person to support me when I told everyone I was going to buy the property and rebuild the place. Then she got all excited when the place was coming together that she simply offered to get involved. She began by tending the bar with Bernie, making sure to help me run the whole thing once I officially had it open for business. She usually bartends during the day while serving lunch. You just happened to come during the days when she took a break and let Bernie work all day.”
Picturing yourself entering the bar with your mother-in-law standing behind the counter has you laughing amusedly. “I would have probably shocked her pants off if she had been there when I first came by.”
He gives you a small smile before he turns back to the road. “Especially with those papers in your hand,” you hear him muttering softly, though the rumbling sound of his truck drowns the words that you are not completely sure if you had heard him correctly. And he gives you no chance to question it when he makes a sudden turn, leaving the main road to drive through a long gravel-covered road until a fenced property comes to sight.
“We’re here,” he says as he drives through the wide opened front gate, slowing the truck down until a rather spacious plane of snow and a frozen pond appear, and the cottage—that does not fit its title at all—rises to view. The cottage, as Namjoon has called it, is a three-story mountain lodging with red brick walls, massive stone columns protruding on its sides. Large windows with rustic wood frames fill the sides of the lodge, overlooking the beautiful scenery of the snow covered mountains and trees, while the open balcony on the upper floor seems to be enough to fit the entire family to hang out on if anyone wants to stay out in the cold.
“This place looks amazing,” you find yourself muttering softly as you marvel at the beautiful sight of the building, while Namjoon remains silent as he drives his fancy truck to the side, finding the empty spot between Bernie’s fancy truck and your uncle’s older one that has already gotten covered with a thin veil of snow.
Namjoon sets the truck to a park before leaning back in his seat. Then he turns to you just as you look at him, a smile on his face when he says, “Thank you.”
It takes you a moment before you finally understand what he is trying to say.
“You built it,” you tell him rather than asking him for confirmation, and Namjoon gives you nothing but a smile to respond. “I thought you said your family is renting the place?”
Namjoon nods. “It belongs to the Mayor. But I was the one who helped build it, renovated it from the old hunting cabin that he inherited from his father to look the way it is now. All I did was added more floors and built bigger rooms inside to fit a whole family. It did make it easier for us to get a cheap price to stay here through Christmas because of that. The man is also an old friend of Winny’s from school, so I think that’s also the reason why he’s letting us use the place for as long as we want to.”
You open your mouth to make a comment, but find yourself unable to find the right words. You don’t even give the lodge another look, too amused at your husband. You have been hearing different things about him from the people around you—how much he has changed, how far he had turned his life around after you were gone, and you are beginning to see him in a different light.
In a way, it amuses you just how far he can go once he put his mind on it. On the other hand, it makes you feel—jealous, betrayed, dejected, because this is exactly what you had wanted from him years ago. This is the side of him that you had wanted to see, and all he did then was defy you, constantly refusing your help and support while not being able to see how much you wanted to help him become the person he is today. And it is somehow hurting you to find out that he had only chosen to start trying again once you were out of the picture, and only once you were no longer a part of his life.
Which only shows that he surely had not been doing all of this for you.
“Shall we come in? I have a feeling that everyone would have been waiting for us.” Namjoon glances towards the lodging before looking at you, keeping a smile on his face as he is still unaware of how you have your mind wandering off to the past or to even notice the hurt you are feeling in your chest.
Suddenly, not only does he appear to you like a new person, you only see him as a stranger. Perhaps he was right, after all, when he said that the two of you had been walking in different paths. That maybe it was not meant to be. That you had always meant to walk another path without him by your side. Somehow, keeping this thought only helps seal your mind into getting things done as soon as possible and return to the life waiting for you once this is all over.
“Alright, let’s get things rolling.”
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If you had been mesmerised by its outer skin, you find yourself getting more amused and astounded as Namjoon takes you inside the lodge.
His mother welcomes you at the front door with a big hug, lingering for a moment to squeeze you in her arms as if you are still the young girl she used to watch over when your parents were away. “It’s so good to see you again, ______,” she whispers to you, lowering her voice so that you would be the only one to hear her.
“I’m happy to see you again too,” you respond to her before you part ways, and you nearly tear up with emotions when you find her still smiling at you with her glossy eyes taking you in.
“Come say hi to everyone else.”
Letting Namjoon takes your hand in his, you walk hand-in-hand to enter the main living room where everyone is gathering, sitting and lounging on the loveseats with warm drinks and snacks that fill the air with their wonderful fragrance, no doubt Winny’s creation straight from her own kitchen. You linger briefly near the foyer to talk with your in-laws first, before greeting your parents who are joined by your uncle and Bernie near the fireplace. Right across the room, sitting close to the massive Christmas tree—one that appears to have been cut straight from the mountain forest before it was placed inside the room—together with Namjoon’s sister is Winny, who is looking straight at you with wide eyes and her smile hidden behind the cup she is holding up as she takes dainty sips of her drink.
Namjoon pulls you to his side as you walk away from your parents, brushing his lips across your temple as he whispers, “Don’t be nervous.”
“Got it,” you whisper back to him, giving him a smile as he pulls back. You let him guide you to grab a drink from the nearest table where the refreshments have been set up before walking over to greet Winny.
However, right before you can make it to the table and grab the hot chocolate drink that seems to be calling your name, Winny stops both you and Namjoon from moving across the room when she suddenly calls out,
“Stop. Hold it right there!”
Both you and Namjoon stop moving at the same time and your heartbeat begins to rise. You are practically clutching his hand tightly in yours and almost clinging onto his arm completely just to keep yourself from crumbling on the floor. Feeling completely scrutinised under Winny’s gaze, your nerves begin spiking up that you are too afraid to make a move. Just as you are beginning to feel the blood draining from your face, wondering if you had somehow shown a tell to blow this whole charade before it has any chance to start, a bright smile grows on Winny’s face, while her eyes are filled with mirth and joy and something else that you cannot truly decipher.
Suddenly, she raises a hand and points up, aiming right above your heads and says, “Look, you are standing right below a mistletoe. You know it’s a bad omen to step away from it without a kiss.”
Your heart drops, while Winny looks too adorably excited that you find no way to deny her. So you turn to your husband, meeting his wide eyes that are looking at you with pure confusion and doubt, before his gaze shows a silent understanding when he pulls you closer and wraps his arm around your waist. He gives you a small smile as his head dips, the mask that he has been wearing around you slipping from his face for the briefest moment before his lips are suddenly on yours, giving you a chaste kiss that feels too good and yet ends too soon. The kiss feels brief, and yet it is enough to set your whole body to come alive, to bring warmth rolling in waves from where he is kissing and touching you and all the way down to the tip of your toes.
And for some strange reason, you refuse to let this feeling fade away too soon. He tries to pull away once he ends the kiss, but you immediately wrap your arms around his neck to keep him close.
“Need to make it believable, remember?” you whisper against his lips, before pushing yourself up to your tiptoes so you can press your lips on his, starting with a chaste kiss that feels just as innocent as the one he gave you. Only that instead of pulling away, you press harder, moulding your lips with his to let it linger.
Namjoon grows stiff at first, before his hold on your body tightens, pulling you further into his chest as he begins to return the kiss with the same fervour, his tongue slipping out sneakily as he devours your lips to have a taste, and it has your body lighting up as if he had set up a flame somewhere deep within you.
A soft sigh escapes from your throat and it snaps you right out of it, clearing out your muddled brain to remind you of where you are. Ever so gently, you pull away, keeping your arms around him still when you open your eyes, finding him watching you with dilated eyes that are slowly filled with a hint of shock. Though you can easily see that there is also warmth in his gaze, a hint of longing that has your heart pinching tightly in your chest.
“Oh, that’s what I’ve been waiting to see, my favourite couple being full of love the way they always do,” Winny exclaims with a soft clap. Everyone in the room gives a burst of nervous laughter—except for Bernie who is standing in the corner with a knowing smile on his face and Namjoon’s mother who is watching you with a pair of glossy eyes that she quickly hides by turning to grab her glass from the table—but Winny doesn’t seem to notice this as she rises from her seat and makes her way towards the two of you.
“Look at you,” she says, taking your face in her palms just as Namjoon releases you from his hold. “You’ve become an elegant woman already. Oh, why did time have to move so fast? I used to be able to watch you grow and suddenly you are looking so mature it feels like time has completely slipped right out of me. ”
Guilt slowly seeps in, but you force a smile to your face when you answer her, “It’s good to see you again, Winny. I’m sorry I’ve been away.”
For a moment, the only thing that Winny does is to look at you, her gaze studying you closely with an intense look that you cannot possibly read even as you are looking at her closely. “I’ve missed you too, kiddo. But I’m glad to see you two back here together again,” she says, giving you an odd look on her face as she speaks, making you start questioning things silently and feeling your doubt brewing inside your head. Before you can think too much of it, Winny turns her gaze to Namjoon and smiles gently. “Joon must have felt relieved to see you back home.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” you try to lighten things up with a joke, though you still find it hard to hide the nervous chuckle bubbling from inside you. Noticing this, Namjoon wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you back to him, pressing you to his side.
“Don’t listen to her, Winny. Of course it makes me happy to have her home with me,” he says, once again planting a kiss on the top of your head.
Seeing this, Winny simply nods her head. “Well, I better let you kids go to your room and rest. I know it was a long drive. Go on, grab some hot chocolate and snacks or take your time to get settled in and come back down to have a drink with me once you’re ready.”
Once the short encounter is done, you part ways with Winny, giving her another hug before leaving the room. Namjoon takes you upstairs, leading you to the bedroom that you would be sharing with each other during your stay. He keeps holding your hand even when nobody is looking and he only lets you go once you are in the room.
“This is it. I hope it’s okay that we’re going to be holed up here for a while,” Namjoon smiles sheepishly while you turn your eyes away to find the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. All of a sudden, your body feels warm just thinking about sharing the room and perhaps split the bed with him. But then you hear Namjoon clearing his throat, possibly seeing the look on your face as discomfort and then points at the sofa bench placed in the corner of the room. “You can take the bed, and I can take the bench if that would make you feel more comfortable.”
You take a good look at the sofa that doesn’t exactly look comfortable to sleep on and simply cannot imagine him sleeping all night on that thing. But you say nothing about it. As if he takes your silence as a yes, Namjoon only smiles and nods at you. “Alright, I’ll leave you to change and unpack, maybe lie down for a moment. I know you might want to chill a little before going back out there. I’ll go down and grab the rest of our bags.”
He catches your gaze as you look up at him again, and his smile softens to whatever he sees in your eyes. “I won’t be long. I promise.”
Namjoon closes the door gently behind him as he leaves the room, while you take a seat on the edge of the bed just as your knees are beginning to feel weak. Only then do you finally realise that your legs have been trembling for a while now, and the only reason why you even managed to keep on standing was simply because you had been holding tightly onto Namjoon’s arms the whole time.
You release a deep sigh as you are trying to wrap your head around everything. You have to admit, that you have been feeling as if you are walking in the clouds and it has been this way ever since you walked past the front door. It is not so much because of the ruse that you are feeling this way, but for everything around it. And for the most part, it is all because of Namjoon.
You had known that you would need to play your part in this whole thing, and you have been preparing for it for the past few days before coming here. The only thing that you had not expected was to have your whole mind and body reacting this way over a simple kiss.
The kiss that you shared with Namjoon had only been a show, one that had been completely unplanned—when neither of you had expected that Winny would be asking for such request only moments after you arrived—but you cannot deny and say that your body is only reacting to it now as a part of your scheme and it is left you questioning things when you are supposed to keep a clear head while getting into this.
This wouldn’t be the first time that Namjoon has affected you when you are with him.
For the purpose of planning the ruse and getting used to being with him again without feeling all the awkwardness and to stop you from acting like strangers with one another, you had been seeing him constantly—from going out on lunch dates with him and coming to the bar to see him at night—and while all those meetings have been nothing but friendly encounters, you cannot deny the way he has been making you feel.
At first, it had taken you a while to stop feeling uneasy for being around him and appearing in town together with him, but then the need to get used to each other’s presence again had been stronger than your past resentment to one another that you slowly got used to it. Until you soon found yourself easing into things as if everything around you had gotten back to the way they were.
The comfortable silence that would fall between you had seemed like a warm blanket more than it gave you the awkwardness that you had feared to find when you had first thought about spending time with him. The light touches that he had given you—the ones that you let him do while telling yourself that it had to be done as practice—kept giving your body all the odd tingles that had been surprising but was never unwelcome.
Sitting here alone while thinking about all of this, you also notice how it suddenly feels like there is a void inside your chest that has been growing since the moment he walked out the door, as if you had grown so used to his presence that you had been clinging to it for comfort. The silence that accompanies you in his absence is not only making you feel the presence of the void even more, but it is giving you a chance to think, to look back into the past few days while wondering why the light tremors that his kiss had ignited in you have yet to fade.
A part of you seems to be telling you that perhaps being with him has awakened the feelings that you had felt for him but left buried for years. But you ignore the voices, denying that you may still have a lingering feeling for him left. Perhaps you still do care about him, perhaps you always have, but you are not quite sure if this feeling is anything close to the fierce, burning love that you used to have for him.
Perhaps what you have for him is nothing more but an infatuation, and it is building up inside you only because you are seeing him as a different person and not as the man that you had left behind.
Yes, that is simply what this is and nothing more, you keep convincing yourself even as you press your fingers on your lips, tracing the lingering sparks that have been left there from his kiss.
Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath to gather your resolve back, reminding yourself the reason why you had come here in the first place. Soon, everything will be over, and you will be free to move on, to leave all of this behind without any regret. Whatever Namjoon makes you feel would be temporary, and you have no doubt that it all stems from the memory that you had together in the past, the nostalgia that still remains in your head and not because you simply still love him or care about him the way you used to be in the past.
As you wait for Namjoon to return, you keep repeating this to yourself, refusing to give in to the illusions carried by your old, buried feelings, while convincing yourself to be stronger, hoping that your words alone would be enough to get you through this charade in one piece.
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The moment dinner time arrives in the evening, you only find that none of the things you kept telling yourself all day even mattered, or if any of them truly worked. Not when your mind keeps bringing you back to the kiss that you shared with Namjoon even as you are sitting among the others at the dinner table. And with Namjoon sitting right beside you, his presence serves as both the comfort that you need and, at the same time, the catalyst, when he ignites every spark, every reaction, and—every time you would look at him and your eyes would find his lips again—every flash of memory from the kiss.
No matter what you have done to try and get that moment out of your head, there is no stopping you from rewinding it again to yourself. There is no denying that—even if you keep telling yourself that it didn’t matter—the kiss still rattles you in a way that your body continues to react so easily to him. Your body shudders to each brush of his hand through dinner or whenever he leans closer to speak. Your skin would tingle when he is pressing to your side as he eats his meal. The fact that you are simply unable to avoid every gesture he is openly showing to the others at the table to play his part as the dotting husband only makes you feel more hyperaware of his presence. And it is certainly giving you quite a challenge, when you need to constantly hold back and hide all the shudders he brings forth within you, preventing it from showing out for everyone else who is present to see.
“You know how proud I am to hear about how well you’re doing in school, don’t you? I’ve told this to Joon time and time again since you started school again, but we all have hopes for you to make it big,” Winny says, turning to you after you saw her talking to your mother.
Feeling all the attention that seems to be drawn to you all so suddenly, you can only chuckle nervously while shifting in your seat, barely realising that you would lean a bit closer to Namjoon when this happens. “I don’t know about reaching anything big, but—” You turn to glance at Namjoon, gauging at his reaction and using his smile the encouragement that you need to keep on talking. “I do enjoy being in school, and I can’t wait to graduate soon and see where it leads me.”
The lie feels bitter on your tongue, but it is nothing compared to the guilt you feel in your chest for deceiving your grandmother-in-law.
Meanwhile, Winny simply nods, completely unaware of the turmoil that you are having.“Namjoon has also been making me proud. I think he wants to prove to himself and to the family that he can keep up with you. He’s shown me this bar he’s been working on and I think he’s doing quite a great job on it.”
The pride in her eyes is contagious, and you find yourself smiling proudly as you turn to Namjoon. “Well, he sure has been surprising me with a lot of what he’s been doing. I’ve been spending my time at the bar with him since I got back and I love seeing what he had done to the place.”
To your pleasure, Namjoon appears embarrassed to hear your compliment. A shy smile appears on his face and he dips his head to hide the blush forming on his skin. But then he reaches out to grab your hand gently in his and starts running his thumb absentmindedly on your knuckles when he speaks again, “I’m glad to hear that, coming from you. You have been my inspiration behind everything that I’ve been doing, after all.”
He looks straight into your eyes as he says those words, and a shiver instantly runs down your spine when you can clearly see the sincerity in the way he is looking at you. As if those words were real. Then you look away just as your face grows hot, finding Bernie sitting at the end of the table while giving you a knowing look. Everything that he said to you from the other day rings inside your head, and your heartbeat picks up.
“Joon here did all of this by himself—with a lot of our help, of course. Said he did it all for—”
There is no way, you tell yourself, refusing to let your mind go anywhere that you really have no right to venture into. But you keep these thoughts to yourself, forcing a smile to your face and holding it together as Namjoon brings your hand up and presses a kiss on the back of your hand. The gesture instantly sparks a reaction through your body, a delightful spark that you haven’t felt for a long time comes shooting through your skin, and you find yourself unable to look away, completely hypnotised by his warm gaze that keeps drawing you closer to him, and the touch that seems to bring back all the emotions that you had once thought had been lost.
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The rest of the dinner simply flew by like a fleeting dream. Though it didn’t stop you from slipping away from the others only an hour after dinner has been wrapped up to find a place to hide.
You had managed to hold yourself together through the rest of the dinner without so much of a blunder even with the continuous moments you find yourself getting too lost inside your head for all the feelings that Namjoon had brought up in you.
And he was not the only one who had made you feel these things.
Sitting outside the lodge, you can hear the voices coming from inside. You can tell that everyone is currently doing their own thing to enjoy the night. You can hear the sound of your parents laughing from the seating lounge as they are keeping Winny company near the fireplace while Namjoon’s parents are no doubt enjoying their drinking party with Bernie in the kitchen pantry. The last time you saw Namjoon was right before you stepped out onto the porch, catching the sight of him having an intense conversation with his sister in the living room and away from the others.
Being around everyone, having both families joined together and sharing this moment have been enjoyable, and it was surprising to see just how easy it has been for you to dive right back in despite how long you have been away from them. Watching everyone interact and enjoy their dinner left you swamped with emotions, just the way it did during your family dinner the other night when everyone was present, laughing and chatting as if the time when you were gone had been non-existent. You felt exactly the same way earlier, and it had made you somewhat uneasy, when it felt both like coming home while making you feel like a fraud at the same time.
As if you no longer deserved to be sitting here among them, indulging in the warmth of their companion and acting like a member of the family when you haven’t been one for a long time.
It had become too overwhelming when you still couldn’t shake the feeling off even after dinner had ended that you simply had to get away, and that was the reason why you have found yourself here, sitting on the long wooden bench—one that looks a bit too similar to the old wooden bench you have back at home—to find solace and perhaps have your peace with the silence as your companion. You were also hoping that being out here would give you a chance to clear your head before heading up to your room to end the night, but your mind keeps wandering all over the place, taking you back to the events happening throughout the day and sometimes way back to the past where everything had seemed to be perfectly in control, before it had gone into a complete mess.
“A penny for your thoughts?”
You nearly jump at Namjoon’s deep voice as he appears at the door, smiling amusedly at you. “God, you scared me,” you mutter softly while pressing a hand over your heart, hoping that it would calm back down.
“Sorry,” he chuckles at you as he leans against the wooden doorframe. “What are you doing out here in the cold?”
You press your lips together, wondering just what to say to him, though you immediately realise what a mistake it would be to hide these things from him. Not when he is the only one currently on your side.
“I just need to do some thinking on my own,” you finally tell him with a shrug, and his gaze softens. “Where’s everyone?” you ask him when you realise that the voices coming from inside have gone down.
Namjoon glances over his shoulders and takes a look inside through the open door briefly before turning back to you. “Most of them have gone up to their rooms, including Winny. Our Dads are planning to go to the shop early in the morning for the barbecue lunch tomorrow so they’re settling down early. The only ones left are Bernie and your uncle who are trying to work on finishing that bottle of whiskey I brought them earlier,” he says, chuckling softly before his warm gaze returns. “And then there’s us.”
“And then there’s us,” you mutter softly, mirroring his words with a small voice.
You bite your lips, hating how powerless you are against the flutters forming inside you and how surprisingly good it feels. The warmth in your belly feels comforting, but it makes you grow wary to let it linger for far too long. You should be standing up and start to make your leave, and then hide in the bedroom instead of sitting here under his gaze and enjoying the way he is making you feel. Suddenly, you feel like a teenager again, the same way you felt when you hid away with him during one of the parties that your school friends were holding at the time and he had ended up giving you your first kiss.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks you gently while his eyes never once stray away from you, and you find yourself unable to refuse.
You should say no to him and walk away, the small voice inside your head whispers to you, telling you to retreat for the night and walk away from him. It would be much safer, the voice speaks, and you can swear that you can hear it trembling, filled with the fear of having the wounds that you had once carried inside you returning. But the pounding in your heart becomes stronger, drowning the voices that keep sending you all the warning signs, and the words simply slip out before you can stop them,
“No, go ahead.”
A smile of relief comes to his face and he walks over to take the empty seat next to you while you slide away to give him space. You still haven’t gotten used to the new muscular built he is now sporting that you almost forget that he wouldn’t fit easily to your side so you cannot escape it when he brushes against you. The bench groans a little as he drops himself right next to you while he instantly engulfs you with his warmth. Goosebumps begin to form on your skin even without him touching you directly that you just lean back, trying your best not to make it obvious by rubbing your hands on your arms to hide it.
“It’s quite a lot to take in, isn’t it?” he suddenly asks you, keeping his voice low enough that you almost miss it. You turn to him to find him smiling at you while you have no idea how to respond. “I’m sorry for putting you through this.”
Swallowing hard, you can only nod your head slowly. “I wouldn’t say you are solely responsible in all of this. We wouldn’t have been in this spot if I hadn’t come to rush you into—”
Signing the divorce papers.
Shoot. For a while there you had almost forgotten the real reason why you are here in the first place and why you had agreed to become a part of this whole ruse. There is an icy prick poking in your chest when you are reminded that this whole thing has a time limit, and it surprises you to feel this way. There is no way you would want this whole thing to carry on, not when you have another life waiting for you. Another story for you to live through.
Another man who is waiting for you to return.
You shake your head, still cannot believe how easily you find yourself straying away from what you are meant to do. You should have expected this, when you knew what you were getting into by joining this trip. But it had somehow slipped your mind completely to prepare yourself against this, to remember that Namjoon would not be the only one that would be able to draw out all the memories and to stir your heart. Regardless of all the lies, the secrets that you are still keeping from everyone, and the horrible charade you are playing, you cannot deny how it makes you feel like you are finally home.
For years, you had thought that being here would only bring back all the hurt, that you would be constantly reminded of your painful past when all of the elements are present together. But it had turned out that the only things that have been brought back up while you are with everyone who are dear to your heart are the memory of the love that you had shared with them, the good times, and the comfort of coming home.
And for some reason, there is a part of you that doesn’t mind being here, to forget the world outside of this bubble and the life where this warm feeling doesn’t exist. Letting this thought linger inside your head, you find yourself admitting it loudly to Namjoon about it before you can stop it.
“I have to admit that I’ve missed all of this. To be around the family, to hear Bernie’s dirty jokes. And most importantly, being around Winny,” you mutter softly, turning to him with a smile just as you stop yourself from admitting how much you have missed the part of your life which you had once shared with him, only because you would have to admit that you have been missing him too. “I was nervous about meeting them all at once, but everyone was enjoying themselves that I just got into the festive mood pretty easily.”
“I think we both did pretty well for the first round,” Namjoon says, nodding his head.
“I’ll say,” you chuckle softly at him. “Though, I do admit—being around Winny for too long makes me nervous. Sometimes I’ll find myself talking to her and then the moment she brings up something from three years ago as if they had just happened, I’ll feel so guilty that I just want to admit everything.” You look back with a sigh. “Especially when she brought up the candy apple. I probably would’ve bawled my eyes out and told her that the last fair we went to together happened 4 years ago and not last year if you hadn’t come to change the topic.”
Namjoon laughs softly as he recalls that moment, when he came to the rescue at the perfect time while you were stuttering in front of Winny while she was reminiscing about the old town’s fair that you had gone to together. “All I did was look at your eyes and I knew you were panicking. I did what I had to do.”
“My saviour,” you whisper to him with a teasing tone in your voice, making him smile.
“That’s what teammates do, be there for each other,” he says, speaking in a low voice that warms your skin. He falls silent for a moment when your gazes meet each other, and the playfulness in his eyes fades. “We used to make a great team, you and I.”
We certainly did, the small voice in your head responds to him, just as a painful twist appears in your chest. The betrayal that you had felt before when you thought about his changes comes stabbing deeper into your chest, and it grows even deeper when you remind yourself that you are no longer a part of his life, just as much as he is no longer a part of yours.
“Don’t do that,” you say to him as you look away, avoiding his gaze that suddenly feels so intense that it nearly burns you just by looking back at him. “Let’s not go there, Namjoon.”
The way he is looking at you makes you feel exposed, that no matter what you do to shield yourself and hide from him, he can still make you feel as if you are holding out your heart, that you are baring your soul for him to see. So you keep your eyes looking away, focusing on the trees around the lodge instead of letting him see through your facade.
“Why not?” he whispers, and you realise that in your effort of trying to avoid him and to push him away, Namjoon has shifted closer. You can feel his arm resting on the backrest behind you while his warmth comes pressing to your side. “Can’t I talk about the good old past? We were sharing all the great memories from when we were kids and we even acted like how we used to be in the past. Is it not okay to just talk about it, for old time sake?”
“That—that’s different and you know it,” you respond to him with a voice barely a whisper. And you hate the way your body is truly reacting to him, as your skin grows hot when you feel his warm breath falls against you, brushing softly right where the top of your sweater falls over from your shoulders. A faint scent of whisky wafts between you and you lift your eyes to him. “Are you drunk? Is that why you’re not making sense right now? Or did you hit your head on your way out here?”
Namjoon laughs and shakes his head. “You know I barely had any alcohol through dinner. Neither of us did since we promised to stay sober while we’re around Winny, remember?” he says with a chuckle, and you begin to regret turning to look at him. You have failed to realise how much closer he is to you now, that he is basically leaning over you and keeping you trapped against the bench with nowhere to escape. His eyes are dark, and there is something in his gaze that you have not seen for a long time as he keeps looking at you. His presence feels intimidating, intense, leaving you completely entranced that you can barely hold back from leaning closer and letting yourself be drawn to him.
“I only took a shot of whiskey from Bernie and your uncle before I walked out here to find you, but my head is still as clear as day. I’m only curious, are you saying that you didn’t feel a thing when we kissed? Do I not make your heart race anymore?”
Your mouth falls open, both in shock and for finding yourself almost giving him the answer that he seems to be searching for.
Because the answer is yes.
Yes, you did feel something—a lot of things—when you kissed him under the mistletoe and right in front of your families who knew nothing about the deal you have made with each other.
Yes, he makes your heart race, just the way he is doing it now, simply by being so close, for having his face leaning close to yours that you clench your hands tightly to stop yourself from reaching out and pulling his head so you can devour his lips again.
And yes, your heart is still racing, not only because of his presence, but also because of the way he is looking at you as if you are a mystery for him to unfold. The curiosity, the astonishment, the wonder—you can see it all, all the emotions dancing in his eyes, and you wonder if you are showing him all the same thing when you return his gaze while your face is burning under his gaze.
But you take a deep breath, willing your body to stop reacting to him and swallow hard. “Everything is in the past, Joon. Right where we left it. And we’ve moved on from it.”
Namjoon clenches his jaw, though there is a glint of his amusement in his eyes when he says, “We did leave all of that behind, didn’t we?” His voice comes out so soft that it almost seems like he is questioning himself rather than expecting an answer from you. Then his sly grin returns when he lifts his hand, brushing against your forearm that shows under the sleeves of your sweater, his fingers tracing gently on your skin before he begins trailing them upwards ever so slowly, all the way to your shoulder.
“Do you really not feel anything anymore? Not even when I touch you like this?” Then he stops, only for a brief moment, before you feel his fingers moving to brush your hair away, exposing the nape of your neck, where he then runs a featherlight touch with his long fingers until he draws a shudder through your body. ”Not even when I do this?” he whispers, keeping his eyes on you the entire time to watch your reaction, no doubt catching the way your eyes are dilating to his touch or the way your breath hitches right when the tip of his fingers brush against the sensitive spot beneath your ear.
“No,” you answer him, but even you know that your answer holds no truth when you are trembling against him, and your voice has come out breathless, almost to a sigh, when the shudders running through your body is still existent and you can no longer fight against it.
Namjoon must have caught on to how your body is truly reacting to him no matter how much you try to hide it, because he only seems to keep leaning closer, his head dipping lower, coming so close that you are suddenly feeling his lips ghosting over yours, just a hairbreadth away from yours when he finally stops himself.
“And you won’t feel a thing if I kiss you right now? A real kiss, not a part of a show where we have audiences watching and expecting us to perform for them?” he whispers against your lips. “There is only you and me out here, Baby Doll. Nobody else but us.”
He looks down at you for a long, silent moment before he dips his head, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. He pulls away right after, just far enough to what you imagine as a way for him to gauge your reaction. He looks at you for another beat of a moment before he does the same thing. He dips his head, giving you a brief, closed-mouthed kiss, lingering for a moment longer this time, before he slowly pulls away again.
This time, you are the one searching for his eyes. Deep down, you both know just how wrong this is. How this cannot happen. And most importantly, why this should never happen. But right now, it doesn’t seem to matter. The pull between the two of you which you had once thought had somehow vanished right before you left is still there and you cannot seem to shake it off. Not when he is this close, with his warmth rolling between you and the shadow of his touches still ripples on your skin.
Maybe it is due to the fact that you are stuck in this place together. Maybe the entire night of reminiscing the past and having his grandmother doting you as if you had never left makes you feel like you are right where you belong. Maybe it is the melancholy, knowing that this would be the last time, that you would have to let him go for good once everything is over, no matter what history you have had together and what you still feel for each other. But there is a strong feeling of need inside you that makes you want him more now in a way that you haven’t felt before. And it is taking over you to the point that you can no longer hold back.
When he dips his head toward you again, only after noticing how you no longer have your guards up against him, you slide your hands up his chest, grabbing onto his shirt and pulling him into you. You part your lips, almost begging him to deepen the kiss, and he happily obliges, sliding his tongue against yours before he trails it over your bottom lip.
You can taste the bite of alcohol on his tongue and you pull him even closer. The move seems to snap him out of his final restraint, and he is suddenly reaching out for you, no longer holding back. His hand slides up your back, fisting into your hair as he moves the other to start fumbling with your knitted sweater. He somehow manages to slide his hand inside, then wraps the same hand around your waist to pull you even closer, almost lifting you onto his lap.
You gasp softly against his lips as his hand reaches behind you, finding the zipper of the dress you have been wearing underneath the sweater and starts sliding it down. You must have been so distracted by his kiss that you fail to realise how your cardigan had slipped right off your shoulders, giving him more leeway in doing the same with the strap of your dress, and he pulls back just as the front of your dress falls over, exposing your covered breasts to his eyes.
A soft groan slips out of Namjoon’s lips when his gaze falls on your heaving chest, while pure hunger appears in his eyes, dark and intense, making you grow hot just by having him rake his gaze all over you. He wastes no more time as his hand finds your breast, touching you gently while he uses his other hand to slip behind you, unfastening your bra so easily as if he has done this to you many times before. You think nothing of it when you simply lean forward, pressing your lips on the nape of his neck while he makes a quick work on your clothes—unhooking your bra with what seems to be a flick of his wrist before sliding his hand underneath, trailing his fingers across your skin all the way from your back and then coming around to find your breast. He slides the straps of your bra off your shoulders, his fingers finding the sensitive skin around your nipple, making its tip harden before he finally rubs a thumb across the nub.
His lips suddenly find yours again just as the touch draws a gasp right out of you, though he doesn’t stop you from moaning into his mouth as he begins to devour your lips with more heat and hunger while he keeps touching you, sending surges of pleasure all through your body with the light traces of his long fingers. You hear a soft grunt coming out of his throat, but you continue kissing him, refusing to let him stop or to let any drop of doubt fall between you. While his touches remain on your skin, you reach out to him and begin to fumble with the buttons of his shirt, suddenly having the urge to feel his skin, to bask in his warmth, and to feel him shudder under your touch the same way he is doing it to you.
Just as you tug on his shirt, a deep groan rumbles from his chest again and his grip on your waist tightens just as he pulls you up to his lap. The move happens so suddenly that you can barely stop yourself from falling against his chest with a soft gasp. Then his lips are quick to return to yours, capturing the rest of the sounds you are making both in your shock and as you are drowning in the heat of the moment as he devours your mouth, pouring his desire more freely now that you are reacting and reciprocating his actions.
Your hands are trembling as you blindly release the buttons of his shirt, taking them off one and a time with your eyes closed and his kisses distracting you just as his hands are pressing on your curves, touching you wherever he can reach. You can only faintly hear the sound of him clearing his throat through your muddled senses, and yet he makes no move to pull away and you continue on pressing your lips on his, arching your chest to him, letting your body melt against his as your hips begin to sway, rolling over his lap as you press down against his groin.
The sound that you heard comes back, growing louder, and it takes you a while before you realise that the sound is coming from somewhere else and it wasn’t Namjoon who has been clearing his throat in the middle of kissing you. Both of you instantly pull away from each other as you realise this and Namjoon finally notices the sound. The soft cough returns again and you turn to look at the door just as Namjoon instantly pulls you to his chest to hide your exposed chest for your intruder to see, and your heart plunges in your chest when you see Bernie standing there, looking overly intoxicated after his drinking game with your uncle with a sick grin showing up on his face.
“Ah, sorry to interrupt. Didn’t see you two out here. Was checking to see if the door’s locked and there you are,” he says, slurring a little as he points between the door and the outer side of the porch. Meanwhile, you can feel your face burning hot with shame, though you are glad that Namjoon managed to snap right out of it a bit faster to cover your body from Bernie’s eyes, though you aren’t even quite sure if he can see either of you that well through the dark while he is being so heavily drunk.
As if he notices the way Namjoon is hiding you from him—and most probably only realising now that both you and Namjoon are looking like little deers caught in headlights—Bernie raises his hands in surrender and says, “Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything. Scout’s honour.”
While you are still left speechless in your shock, Namjoon chuckles softly. “You go on up and head to bed, Bernie. We’ll make sure to lock the doors up before we come up.”
“Sure thing, Joonie,” Bernie says, nodding like a child before he clumsily turns around and makes his way back through the door. His large frame keeps brushing harshly against the doorframe before he manages to slip right in. You are just beginning to breathe a sigh of relief and are telling yourself that perhaps he really did see nothing, when Bernie suddenly looks over his shoulder and asks, “Don’t you kids think it would be better to do it in your room? It’s freezing out here.”
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“So—how are we going to do this?”
Namjoon lifts his brows at your question and you can see the humour painting his gaze. “Simple. We sleep. I’ll take the sofa and you can keep the whole bed.”
You hold back the urge to roll your eyes at him and sigh, keeping your eyes on him as he stands right beside the bed while you stand on the other side. The heated moment that you shared with him at the porch had been instantly ruined when Bernie caught you both and things had only grown awkward and tense between you since. You could barely look at him when you were both fixing up your clothes and took your time to cool down. Then, once he had made sure that the coast was clear, Namjoon pulled you inside, locking the doors behind you before taking you all the way to the bedroom. Only to once again find yourselves surrounded with an air filled with tension once you were both secured in the confinement of your bedroom.
Your face still feels warm after what had happened downstairs—including the part where you had gotten caught right in the midst of it. As your mind flies back to that moment, your skin tingles right where he was touching you. Your breasts instantly grow hot and tight at the memory of his hands and fingers touching and brushing across your nipples that are now beginning to grow hard beneath your nightshirt. Afraid that he can see it through the thin fabric of your shirt, you cross your arms around your chest, pressing all the delicate tingles down while hiding the way your body is still reacting to him. Though it doesn’t stop you from running your gaze on him, noticing how the material of his shirt seems to cling onto his broad chest and wide shoulders so perfectly well that it barely serves its purpose in covering his body.
At least he is wearing something, you inwardly sigh.
After getting into the bedroom earlier, you had practically run and gone to hide in the bathroom to avoid him. After taking your sweet time washing up and getting yourself ready to bed, you had then returned to the bedroom to find him standing there only in his boxers. The way you had completely forgotten that Namjoon had always slept in the nude when you were still together almost had you screaming. Telling him to put a shirt on and making him promise to at least keep his boxers on had been the first few things that you said to him, much to his amusement. At least it had been entertaining enough for him to do exactly what you asked him to.
You look away before he would notice you staring at his chest. When your eyes fall on the sofa bench which Namjoon keeps insisting to sleep on, you simply grimace, unable to imagine him fitting his hard body on top of the small-sized furniture the way he keeps claiming he would. “No, that won’t do,” you find yourself muttering as you wonder about this. Hearing this, Namjoon tilts his head.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m talking about you, sleeping there,” you point out between him and the sofa before shaking your head. “When there is a perfectly good sized bed right here.”
Namjoon raises his brows and barely holds back his amused smile when he teases you, “Are you trying to seduce me into joining you in bed, Baby Doll?”
“You know what I mean,” you say to him, narrowing your eyes. “I’m only saying that instead of letting me have this whole bed while you torture yourself into that tiny thing, why don’t we just—use the bed?” You stop for a brief moment, trying to ignore the way your cheeks are heating up before adding with a small voice, “Together.”
Namjoon’s eyes are glowing with glee when he questions you about it. “So you have nothing untoward planned for me? We’re just going to—sleep?”
“Funny. That would be the last thing I’d ever do. And we’re not just going to split the space by pointing between us to decide which of us gets which side,” you continue by pointing at his side to your side. “You can take that side and I’ll take this side. And then—” Giving him a sweet smile, you pull a thick pillow from the pile of them resting against the bed’s headboard, fluffing it in your hands a few times before placing it in the middle and add, “These pillows, the ones that we won’t be using to sleep, will be here in the middle.”
Namjoon’s eyes fall onto the pillow and his smile falls as you continue to add more pillows right in the middle of the bed and make it look like a fort. “You’re making a barrier?”
“You’re creating a line with pillows.”
“Exactly. And it’s a fort, actually.”
Namjoon looks up and raises his eyebrows at you. “Let me guess, we’re not allowed to trespass each other’s territory?”
Clapping your hands, you make a sound like he had just the grand prize in a big quiz. “That’s right. No crossing over to this area if you don’t want to get your balls kicked.”
He looks at you, looking genuinely surprised, before he starts laughing. “Alright, Baby Doll. Whatever you say.”
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Warmth comes trickling as the morning slowly sneaks in, brushing against your skin like delicate fingers teasing you to wake up, coaxing you to embrace the morning for a fresh start. As you slowly come awake, you breathe in deeply, inhaling the familiar musky scent that feels like home, wrapping you alongside the two gentle arms that are keeping you comfortable and safe in a loving embrace. And then the sound of a steady heartbeat begins to pick up, slowly rising, sounding clearer and clearer, inviting, mesmerising, and you snuggle against it, embracing the warmth that comes with it, only to notice that you are no longer snuggling against the soft pillows that you had been resting on all night.
It takes you another moment before you are finally pulled out of your slumber completely, before finding yourself resting on something solid, that there is a warm surface present under your palm. The smooth texture of Namjoon’s shirt appears to your bleary eyes when you slowly open them, letting you know that you have somehow gone over the pillow fort, and had landed on top of his hard chest instead. With your head right on top of his beating heart, your palm resting over his abdomen, and your legs entwined together, it simply appears as if you had locked onto one another in your sleep.
Namjoon’s breathing is still steady, even if he has one of his arms resting around your waist. Trying to relax as not to startle him awake, you begin to rake your brain to find a way to slip right out of his clutch without waking him up. The first thing you do is to slip your legs out of his, before gently peeling yourself from him, only to have his arm tightening around you to stop you from moving away.
“Where are you going?” His voice sounds deep and hoarse with sleep, but it stirs something deep inside you like a flame licking from within. It has you clenching your thighs together, your body going stiff against him before giving in to his embrace and simply remain to lie motionless on top of his chest.
“I—I’m sorry, I have no idea how—”
Namjoon’s chest rumbles as he chuckles softly. “Did I say I mind it?” he asks you, keeping his eyes closed while he is moving his fingers absentmindedly up and down your upper arm, while the palm that is pressing on your waist is still ever-present, holding you against him while he is caressing you gently. You look up just as he slowly opens his eyes, looking down on your face with something intense in his gaze, making you want to melt against him instead of pushing yourself off of him.
“This shouldn’t have happened,” you whisper softly, only realising now just how close your face is to his.
Namjoon’s lips twitch, forming a small grin. “I’m not the one who went over the fort that you built,” he says to you teasingly. You should be angry at his words, at whatever it is he seems to be accusing you of, but it is hard to think clearly when you have his lips brushing against your temple and when your heartbeat begins to race with the rising heat burning inside your belly.
“It’s still wrong,” you whisper with a sigh, closing your eyes when Namjoon tugs you up against his chest and continues to run his gentle kisses on your face.
“I’m not the one making the rules.”
You slowly push yourself up and he plants a kiss right at the tip of your nose, drawing a gasp out of you. “I should get up and—”
“And?” he asks, though he doesn’t make any move to let you go. He simply lies there beneath you, keeping his eyes on your face to gauge at your reaction, waiting, with his lips hovering so close that all you have to do is push yourself upward so your lips can touch.
But you do nothing as such, letting him hold you to his chest, unable to look away. You feel like you are getting drawn further into him, the pull that has been present now making itself known. One moment, you are simply there, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat that nearly matches yours. You have no idea who makes the first move, but his lips are suddenly on yours, brushing gently just as you lightly press your lips against him in return. A soft sound slips out of you when he gently takes your bottom lip and gives a light suck, and that is when the remaining restraint you have between you simply snaps.
With a light pull, he tugs you until you are on top of him, your legs resting on either side of him while you straddle his hips, pressing your pulsing center right on top of his covered hard-on. Your hands are clutching tightly on his shirt while you mould your lips together. He slides his tongue right at the seam of your lips, making his way in to deepen the kiss. Everything becomes a blur of heated desire with your tongues clashing against one another, his hands running up and down your curves while you slip your fingers through the hem of his shirt, slipping beneath the fabric, desperate to feel his skin.
While your fingers begin tracing blindly on the hard ridges of his abs, your hips begin to move, swivelling and rolling against him to rub your pulsing core against his covered cock, feeling him hardening and growing stiff under the heat of your desire. A deep groan comes rumbling from his chest before he gives one tight grip on your waist, holding you right in place as he moves his hips, reciprocating every motion you make while his other hand slides under your nightshirt, finding it easy to slide right in when its hem has hiked up to your hips as you continue riding on his groin. It doesn’t take much for him to find your breasts, continuing where he left off last night without any bra present as a barrier this time as you had opted to sleep without it. His palm feels warm against your mound, and he waits no longer before he begins fondling on your soft flesh, kneading and tugging while his fingers find your hardened nipple and gives you a light pinch.
You release a cry into his mouth, letting his kiss drown your voice. Your body trembles at the way he is playing with your body, the way he seems to find the right rhythm to draw out the delightful sparks of pleasure rising from deep within your core. With your nails buried on his chest, you keep on grinding against his covered cock and pressing hard right where it makes you feel good. You continue to ride the waves, letting them build up and continue to rise until you can feel yourself reaching to the edge, getting closer and closer, already losing balance as your legs are trembling around him.
Feeling how close you are to climax, Namjoon slides his other hand down your shirt, cupping your other breast with his palm and begins to do the same as he did the other. As you press down harder against him, he sucks on your lips harder, giving your nipples a rough pinch to draw your cries, and you can start feeling yourself plunging, flowing over the edge and—
The sound of someone banging on the door makes you both jump. For a moment, everything is spinning and you nearly come tumbling down from on top of him. But Namjoon is quick to catch you. His hands are still hidden beneath your shirt, but he is now holding you by the waist, keeping you still while you are both breathless. You are still feeling terribly flushed and your heartbeat seems to take forever to settle down, even if you can still clearly see the burning need in his eyes when you look at him. His own skin still looks flushed and his lips are swollen after all the biting and sucking you did while devouring them in the heated moment.
Neither of you says a thing to each other, or to even try and respond to whoever is on the other side of the door, until the banging sound returns.
“Joonie, you’re up?” Your father-in-law calls for him from outside, and Namjoon releases a groan. Closing his eyes, he lets his head fall back to the pillows.
“I’m up!”
“Good, I’m driving down to the nearest store to buy some supplies for the grill. You coming? Your dad-in-law is driving.”
Namjoon lets out another groan and pulls you down. He buries one hand in your hair as he holds you to him, pressing his lips on yours for a brief kiss before he whispers, “I have to go. He won’t shut up if I’m not up to help him.”
You open your mouth, but your head is still muddled and everything seems so fuzzy for you to even say much. “Okay,” you simply whisper, nodding your head before letting him help you lie back down on the bed.
“Get some more rest,” he says, brushing his lips against yours as he hovers on top of you. “We’ll continue this once I’m back.”
With those words, Namjoon presses a gentle kiss on your lips, before pushing himself up and leaves the bed. He quickly grabs his pants, getting ready to go just as his Dad comes banging on the door once more. “I’m coming,” he shouts back, though he makes another stop to kiss the top of your head before he makes his way out, keeping the door from opening too wide to hide your flustered state from his father when he slides out the door.
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The moment Namjoon is gone, the entire warmth that you have felt since the moment you woke up just seems to have been sucked dry along with his departure. The silence that falls after also feels too deafening and you find it hard to process everything and understand what had just happened. It feels like you have been dreaming, that nothing is real, and it gets even harder to think clearly and to snap right out of the remaining fog of your desire when you can still breathe in his scent which has been plastered all around you—the pillows, the sheets, even on your hair and skin.
Deciding that it would only get you nowhere if you simply remain there and wallow in your loneliness, you run to the bathroom, hoping that a long hot shower might help clear your head a little before going through with the day. You stay under the shower for a bit longer than you probably should, relishing the running water that does its best to wash away the grime, the remnants of his scent that you still carry with you, and the shadow of his touches on your skin. You feel it slowly washing away the fog that is still muddling your head and the rush of pleasure that seems to linger inside you. Only when your skin begins to wrinkle and the hot water slowly turns cold when you finally step out of the shower, wrapping the fuzzy towel that you find on the sink counter before walking out of the bathroom just in time for your phone to start blaring loudly.
You reach for it and pull it out of your purse, and your heart instantly falls.
Your hand is shaking as you bring the phone up to your ear, knowing that you cannot possibly ignore his calls. Not if you want to have a whole day safe from any interruption. Because you know that he would only continue calling again, and again, until he can get through you. That is just how relentless you know Matthew is as a man and a lover.
You take a deep breath and slowly lowers yourself to sit on the edge of the bed, afraid that you might fall if you don’t. “Hello—?” you can barely get your voice out as you answer the call, but you manage to anyway. A shuffling sound is heard from the other end before you hear him speak.
“Good morning, babe. How was your sleep?”
Matthew’s voice rumbles deep from the phone and your chest twists with guilt. “Morning. It was okay. Really good, actually,” you answer him, before a rush of heat flows to your face at the memory of your sleep—or, better yet, the memory of how you had woken up this morning. The surge of pleasure that you had just washed off suddenly runs through you when you remember how you were riding your husband’s lap, the heat in your body returning full force with need, and you try to shake it off as you focus on your fiancé’s voice.
“That’s good to hear,” he says, sighing. “You know I’m glad to see you taking a long break after the past busy month. You’ve worked so hard lately so you needed this break. It must be the fresh air, isn’t it? You’ve always had trouble sleeping for as long as I can remember.”
Letting out a bitter chuckle, your voice grows small when you answer him, “Yes, the fresh air, that could be it.”
Matthew hums into the phone for a moment before he speaks again. “Look, baby. I’m just calling to say I’m sorry. Again. You, uh—you never called me back, so I was wondering if everything is okay.”
No, everything is not okay, the voice in your head sneers at you, making you grimace to think that he had been waiting for you to call him back when he barely crossed your mind. “Right, I’m sorry. I’ve been around my family—” and in-laws, you add inwardly before you continue, “—so things have been overwhelming. I just couldn’t find the right time to call you and talk.”
Once again, your tongue feels bitter with all the lies. Though a part of your excuse isn’t a complete lie this time, when you have been surrounded by your family since you arrived yesterday and Namjoon had almost never left your side. And you obviously could never slip away from Winny to make any phone call in the middle of the family reunion without raising questions. Not even if you would try to make a silly excuse to say that you were to make a call about work.
But there is also a part of you that had been intentionally avoiding him, for reasons that you could barely understand.
Looking back to it now, and then recalling everything that has happened since last night, you wonder if this whole ruse has had something to do with it. Perhaps you had gotten too deep in playing the role as the dotted wife who is returning for the holiday week to be with her husband. Perhaps a part of you enjoyed reliving this part of your life without any disturbance from the real world and from any part of your present life, and you just weren’t ready to wake up from that illusion too soon.
You close your eyes and sigh, barely catching on to what he is saying on the phone with your mind drifting away while he keeps on talking. “—I didn’t want to interrupt your time with your family, but I just need to know if you’re still mad at me. I don’t want us to fight while we’re apart, especially when it’s Christmas.”
“I know. I’m sorry, I was just a bit—busy. But I’m not mad at you, I promise.”
A deep sigh is heard from his side, and he mutters softly, “Good, that’s good,” while you grow tense as you anticipate what he is about to say next. “So—have you had the talk with your parents yet?”
You begin pulling on your towel as you try to think of an excuse. “No, baby. We just got here, remember? Everyone was busy preparing for this trip and then we got caught up in catching up, I could barely share anything and update them about what’s going on with my life aside from stories coming from work. And I told you, my grandmother has been sick, so I didn’t want to steal the stoplight too much from everyone.”
He remains silent as you ramble on, until he finally says, “Maybe I can help.”
“What do you mean?”
“What if I fly there so I can join you? Meet your family while everyone is there? All the preparation for my parents’ Christmas gala is done already and I won’t even have too much to do before the New Year’s Eve party. I think I can slip away a day or two and join you there. That way we can share the news together, what do you say?” He speaks so fast that you can barely catch up to what he is saying, and the moment you do, you can feel your heart pushing its way up to your throat.
“You want to come here?” you ask him, almost stuttering.
“Yes, why not? My family’s jet is available since everyone will be staying here for the event and we can fly back together right after seeing your family. We’ll save up on plane tickets that way, won’t we?”
The more excited he sounds, the more anxious you feel about it. To imagine him coming here, to not only expose your secret past with Namjoon but to also ruin the ruse—you can feel your blood draining while you can barely breathe. You can’t even stay seated with your anxiety rising up. Your head begins to pound as you stand up and begin pacing back and forth in the bedroom.
“Fly—here?” you ask again, wishing that he would start laughing and tell you that he is simply joking. But the only answer you get to hear is, “Yes! I can have it arranged soon. I can fly out there on Christmas morning, and—”
“No, Matthew don’t. You can’t do that.” In your panic, the words simply slip right out of you before you can do anything to stop it, surprising yourself and—judging from the silence that falls from his side—him as well.
“Why can’t I?” he asks you after a beat of silence, the tone of his voice filled with suspicions and you feel the urge to pull your hair out.
Still pacing on the floor, you try to find the best excuse that you can think of to erase every thought he could have about flying here to see you. “Just—this is a private event and my family isn’t as big or as open as yours.”
Lies, lies, all nothing but lies, when you know for sure how welcoming your parents have been to your friends in the past. But how are you supposed to explain to him that he barely exists to your parents? And how the hell would you explain to your family if Matthew just randomly shows up, introducing himself as your fiancé, when they are probably thinking that you are trying to reconcile with Namjoon through this trip? And what about Winny?
All these thoughts keep running in your head while Matthew simply grows silent. You don’t have to see him to know the gears in his head are turning at the same time, and you suddenly despise the fact that you are somehow engaged to a lawyer. And a damn talented one at that, you have to admit, when you have witnessed him time and time again exposing frauds and terrible liars in courts.
“Is there something wrong about me seeing your parents?” he questions you, sending chills down your spine with the accusing tone latching onto his voice. “We’re getting married anyway, aren’t we? I’d eventually have to meet them and introduce myself.”
“Yes, I know, but—” You close your eyes and try your best to control your breath. Remember, he can expose your lies and pick up on an uneven tone so easily, you remind yourself as you try to calm your nerves and make sure to stay collected as you speak to him. “Can’t we do it next time? Maybe when it’s not the holidays or on any other private occasion. I just don’t want to overwhelm my parents or my grandmother with so much going on already.”
A faint sound of someone talking is heard passing right in front of your door and you briefly stop, moving further from the door before you can continue.
“It’s not that I don’t want to introduce you to everyone, it’s just—The timing wouldn’t be right. I just—I need to ease this thing to my parents.”
“Is that so?” he asks you, and it is obvious that he isn’t buying it. “There’s always something, isn’t it?” His voice sounds harsh as he says this, making you flinch at his tone, knowing that you have made him grow angry at you again. “Seriously, what is the matter with you? Is there something going on that I need to know about? Did you meet someone and suddenly have a change of heart? Because you’ve been acting strange and distant since you went back home and it’s like I can’t talk with you so I don’t know what to think!”
Shaking under his wrath, and to how close he had come to the truth, you reach out to grab the backrest of the nearest chair and hold on tight. “I’m sorry. Things are just too complicated right now, and I can’t really tell you anything.”
“Right, of course,” he says with a sneer. “Well, you know how to contact me when you’re done being so—so aloof and when you’re ready to tell me what the fuck is going on with you.”
With those last words, Matthew ends the phone call. The sound of the final click makes you flinch and it makes your breath hitch at the finality of his words and the way he ended the call. You have grown used to seeing him getting emotional, letting his anger and frustration show, but it feels different when you are on the other end of it.
And it makes it even harder for you not to crumble because you are the guilty party.
Dropping down on the chair, you place the phone away with shaking hands. All so suddenly, you feel like the rug has been pulled from beneath you and there is nothing stopping you from falling. There is nothing stopping you from being pulled and awakened from the illusions that you had let yourself drown in.
Dropping your head into your hands, you chastise yourself and let all the dread of guilt wash over you.
You shouldn’t have agreed to be a part of this ruse. Or, at least, you should have kept your head firmly on your shoulder instead of getting drawn into the moment. You should have said the hell with it and insisted harder on Namjoon to sign the divorce papers so you wouldn’t have to worry about getting your secrets exposed if—and when—Matthew decides to register your marriage legally.
Your mind flies back to what had happened between you and Namjoon last night, and what had occurred this morning, only less than an hour ago, and you feel like you need to smack your own head so you could get your act together.
What were you thinking, making out with Namjoon like that after all the talk about letting go and moving on? How can you let yourself lost in his touch when you had sworn to yourself that you would never fall for his charms and that you would never forget what you had come all the way back here for?
Taking a deep breath, you muster every will to snap your head back into place and out of the illusion of the life that you had let go of a long time ago. This part of your life had been lost, and whatever you had thought you felt with Namjoon since you had gotten back had been nothing but a broken piece of your memory forcing itself back into your mind, nothing but an illusion.
Perhaps you have grown too comfortable in this situation, letting yourself get tempted to the alluring part of your past that you had wished you still have, but now it is time to face reality and to get your focus back on track, to remember your purpose.
Finish the whole charade, keep Winny happy for a little while longer, and then have Namjoon sign the papers so you can be free, you remind yourself, repeating those words in your head until they sink in. Because there is nothing left for you here but a fleeting dream, while you have your entire life waiting for you, away from this place, and—most certainly—far away from him.
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For the rest of the day, you try your best to avoid being alone with Namjoon.
You still play your part for as much as you need to whenever you are among the others, though you let Namjoon run the show as he openly shows his affection, giving you light touches and kisses while mingling with the rest of the family. But the moment the act is done, you will try to put a distance between you, always evading him whenever he tries to come close without anyone watching and finding excuses to slip away whenever he is trying to pull you aside.
It had taken you nearly all morning to get your act together, and it helped that he was gone for a long time as he went to join the rest of the men on their shopping trip to the nearest store. Then everyone’s excitement during the outdoor barbecue feast had managed to give you the escape you needed, when Namjoon kept being pulled away to help tend the grill while Winny kept insisting that you would stay with her the entire time.
It isn’t until after dinner when he finally manages to catch up with you just when you are about to slip away to find shelter out on the porch, thinking that perhaps you can wait out there until Namjoon would fall asleep before you can return to your bedroom to avoid anything untoward to ever happen between you. But you should have known that it hadn’t slipped his attention that you have been steering clear of him the whole day and is just about to try to escape him yet again.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” is the first thing he says when he catches you moments after you slip out of the door. “Is there something wrong? What happened?”
Not expecting to have him ruining your escape plan and finding yourself somehow out here all alone with him, the words simply die down on your tongue. You open your mouth, ready to launch some random excuses to slip away from him when Namjoon comes approaching you with a determined look in his eyes. There is also something else in his eyes that makes you stop before you even try to evade him—a mix of wariness, curiosity, and a hint of despair—as if having you slipping away all day and giving him cold shoulders have been affecting him more than you had thought it would.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” is the only thing you can say to him, though it is clear that there is no use of you to act so aloof about it when he simply responds with a scoff.
“Right,” he says with a bitter chuckle. “Don’t play dumb with me. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”
Namjoon has come so close that he is looming over you, keeping his voice low enough only for you to hear. His looming presence and his deep rumbling voice make you feel so little, cornered, and you lean back to the railing on the edge of the porch to hold on, trying to make yourself tall as you return his intense gaze with your own. “What is going on inside that brilliant head of yours, Baby Doll? What game are you playing with me?” he slowly questions you, and his words snap something inside you.
“There is no game,” you hiss at him just as you hear the sound of laughter ringing from inside the lodge. Looking over his shoulders, you make sure that there is nobody passing by this area to find the two of you having this face off. God knows what would cross their minds if they should ever find you out here together like this.
“You must have thought you have been so slick to avoid me and that nobody would notice. But even Winny caught on to your act and she’s been asking me if you’re feeling okay,” Namjoon says with a sneer, while you grimace, realising just how terrible you have been at pretending after all.
With a frown on your face, you look up, finding Namjoon looking at you, no longer with the sneer or annoyance on his face, but more of a concern. “Something happened while I was gone, hasn’t it?”
“Nothing happened. It’s just—” Your mind flies back to the phone call that you had with Matthew, to being the receiving end of his anger, and you pull back just when Namjoon lifts his hand to touch you. “Maybe I just realised that this—whatever it is that’s been going on between us—is wrong.” Shaking your head, you look up into his eyes and plead, “We just can’t—I just can’t have it happening again. I can’t allow it.”
Namjoon scoffs. “You won’t allow it? Always have to be the one to make the rules, don’t you?”
The condescending tone in his voice feels like a knife piercing through your chest. You can barely hold back from pushing him off when you lift your chin up to respond to him. “I thought all we had to do was play a role? To act only when we have audiences watching us? Not to do something like—” You stop just as the image of you kissing him, touching him, letting him bring pleasure through your body comes flashing through your head and your whole skin flushes, and it is somehow making you feel even angrier that you had even let yourself lost in that moment in time that your voice comes out as a hiss when you continue, “Not to act on it while we’re alone. Not to lose control when we’re—”
When we’re not supposed to. When we have a time limit.
The words simply remain inside your head when it suddenly feels too painful for you to say them out loud.
“Lose control? Is that all it ever was?” he questions you, though it sounds more like he is wondering these words out loud. Placing his hands on either side of you, he leans closer, caging you against the wooden railing behind you as he lowers himself, getting close to your face.
“I’m going to ask you again, what the hell happened with you? Why all the sudden change? One minute you were okay with everything and it was obvious that you wanted it to happen, and then you suddenly act like you just can’t get away from me fast enough and now you’re off rambling on as if you didn’t want me too.” Namjoon asks you, before he lifts one hand, reaching up to brush away the hair that has fallen on your face when you were getting too emotional. He moves his fingers ever so gently, and yet you can still feel his knuckles brushing gently across your skin. The featherlight touch brings a shudder through your body, and it doesn’t slip Namjoon’s attention when he could feel it, even if it only happens for such a brief moment.
“Tell me you feel nothing when I touch you like this,” he whispers to you as he brings the tip of his fingers down, tracing an invisible path down the nape of your neck.
Almost instantly, your body comes to life. The light touch he is giving you simply lights up your senses, the shudders feel so delightful, and the pull between you simply strengthen itself that it would be so easy for you to simply give in to it and let go.
But this is wrong, your conscience speaks, snapping you out of it that it helps you muster enough strength to grab him by the wrist and stop him before he can go on.
“No, we can’t do this. You need to remember why I came here in the first place and why we’re doing this,” you whisper as you push him away while shaking your head. While your reaction and your words seem to light something else inside him that his eyes only grow hard, and his words—that had been enough to draw you to him and had managed to break the walls that you had built between you—now suddenly sounds vindictive, taunting, coming at you like a jab to your gut when he says,
“You can’t or you won’t? Tell me what you feel when you’re with me. Tell me you feel nothing.”
In an instant, everything that you feel for him changes. It feels as if he had just ripped the band-aid that has been present to hide your wounds and what comes out of it is vicious, filled with all the pain that you had buried, laid almost forgotten, and now coming awake just as strongly as the desire that you have felt for him ever since he had first brought it back up from your cold heart, and it gives you enough strength to push him away, severing the pull that has kept you blinded from all the painful memories that were left from the moment he had stomped all your dreams and your heart into nothing.
“Fuck you, Namjoon. You don’t get to say these things to me or even had the audacity of asking me about my feelings when you were the one who pushed me away and broke us apart,” you cry out as you keep pushing against his chest in your anger. The sudden burst of your rage renders him speechless at first, before he snaps,
“Are we going to talk about that now? About what happened years ago? Is that it?” He begins seething with anger, though you can see the hurt in his eyes. “Well, let me remind you that I wasn’t the one who left and gave up on us,” he says, pointing at you. “You were the one who walked away.”
His words feel like a slap right on your face and you can no longer hold everything back. “You broke up with me,” you nearly scream to his face, not even caring if there is anyone inside the lodge that can hear you as you continue to face him, letting the hurt inside you reveal itself for him to see. “You were the one who said that there was no point for us to even try to go on, that it would be better for me to just go and leave you behind. That was what you said to me!”
“I thought that was what you wanted…!”
“What I wanted was for the man that I loved with every-fucking-thing that I had to fucking fight for me!”
This time, Namjoon is the one who looks as if your words had slapped him right on his face. The moment he speaks again, his voice sounds small, and broken, as he can only whisper, “I never gave up on you.”
The fight simply leaves you after hearing his words and once you are done pouring out everything that you have kept to yourself for a long time. Except that it only leaves you with one simple question that you have yet to find the answers to.
“Why did you keep sending me back the divorce papers?”
Say it. Please, say it. Tell me that you have been waiting for me. You silently beg, and beg, only realising now that these are the exact words that you have been waiting for him to say to you.
But Namjoon remains silent, keeping his eyes away from you still. Instead, all he does is clench his jaw and he begins shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter,” is the only thing that Namjoon says to you. His eyes no longer hold the same warmth and longing that you had seen in them merely moments before when he looks at you, as if he is withdrawing from you again. You can feel him putting up a barrier as he protects himself from the tremors coming from the pull that is still tethering you together.
“I’ll sign the papers. You’ll be leaving this weekend, right? I’ll give them back to you in the morning.”
With that, Namjoon turns away and goes back inside, leaving you standing there all alone on the porch, with your heart still bleeding out from the pain that he had ripped open and your tears still running down your face. He never returns for the night to sleep in your shared bedroom, while having your heart torn out has left you exhausted, completely drained that you easily fall asleep the moment you find solace in your bedroom.
Completely on your own.
Only to wake up the next morning to find the divorce papers resting on his cold pillows, marked with his signature right at the bottom of the page.
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The rest of the day simply floats by. Though you cannot really say that things are going smoothly as they had been for the past two days. It feels more as if you are walking through a thick pool of gelatine, wading heavily through the surface as much as you can without being swallowed down to the bottom.
At the same time, your body seems to be moving on autopilot, and it helps you to play your role well despite the numbness you are feeling within. You can still find a way to smile, to laugh at any random jokes, to nod whenever you need to, though you can barely listen to what people have to say.
When you finally saw Namjoon again during breakfast, he had managed to act out as if nothing has changed, so you were determined to play your part the way he could. Even if it takes a lot for you not to grimace at his touch or to flinch whenever he kisses you or when he presses his lips on your temple the way he always would in the middle of a conversation with Winny.
You are having so much trouble keeping it up together that it barely registers to you that tonight would be the highly eventful Christmas dinner. The night where you are supposed to be filled with joy. Where you are supposed to embrace the moment while being surrounded by the people that mean to you the most—and yes, that obviously includes Namjoon—and yet, you can barely feel a thing when it feels like every part of you is slowly crumbling. That for some reason, you are left as nothing but a shell, present but completely meaningless, as if it wouldn’t matter if you are no longer a part of this picture-perfect moment.
You do, however, take as much time as you can get to record all of this into your memory. Taking in everyone’s presence, their expressions, their stories, keeping this night as something that you will cherish for the rest of your life. Watching everyone sharing all the love and the bond that has been there for years, you realise what you have missed out on for a long time. You know that there is no use to dwell on the past, but you try your best to picture this as something that you can possibly reach again in the future.
One day, perhaps, after all of this ends.
And only if everyone would forgive you for what you are about to do.
It isn’t until in the middle of the dessert, when your uncle suddenly stands at the end of the table with his best friend, Bernie, and they both start belting out the Christmas Carol when you reach out to grab Namjoon’s hand, surprising him for a moment when you give him a squeeze until you turn to smile at him. His eyes are wide when he sees how relaxed you are, not seeing the way your mind is working hard to plan out just how you are going to give this story an end. And then you start to join the duo, keeping the smile on your face as you look at him, encouraging him to join in as everyone else are singing along.
You can feel Winny’s eyes on you as she sits right on your other side, and you find her watching you with glossy eyes. So you reach out, grabbing her hand with your free one, creating a bond between the three of you to share this moment. Even if it is only for one last time.
You return to an empty bedroom once dinner is long over, everyone has retreated to their rooms earlier after their bellies are full with the sweet desserts that Winny and your mother had made and all the alcohol that was present on the table.
Once again, Namjoon has chosen not to join you in your room, disappearing somewhere in another part of the lodge as he tries to avoid you.
This time, you find it hard to go to sleep. Not that you ever plan to do so anyway. And not when you can still feel his presence on the empty side of the bed, as his scent still lingers even when the sheets have grown cold.
Each time you close your eyes, you can still see those moments inside your head. You have tried so hard to deny it before, but being with him did make you feel everything. The comfort, the desire, the raw carnal need that you had never felt with anyone else the way you did with him. And now that your mind and body remember perfectly well what it is like to be with him, to be in his arms and to feel his love, you know that there is no turning back.
Being with Namjoon after going through all the pain many years ago now feels dangerous. Disastrous—that would be the only way to describe it, because why else would you end up losing control like that when you are together, or to be acting like teenagers who are completely helpless against the desire coursing through your body. It makes you completely reckless—just like how he managed to pull you onto his lap after dinner at the back porch, going completely out of bounds as you kept going at each other, practically clawing each other skin in the process of tearing out your clothes without any care of your surroundings. Or just like the other morning, when you were riding him without a care as if it had been something that you had always done.
The tension coming from those short, heated moments still lingers in your body, making your skin feel hot and tight even when you are far away from him and when he is no longer in sight. Rubbing your hands up and down your bare arms, you take a seat right on the edge of the bed, trying to find solace until the tremors in your body would start to subside.
Except that you quickly realise that it would be impossible for it to happen when you realise that the tremors are coming from deep within your chest.
“I’ll sign the papers.”
If it had been years ago, if it had happened before you joined him on this trip, perhaps you would have felt relieved, pleased to finally have what you have been waiting for. To have your freedom. To finally have your life back. To gain a chance to decide on your future without constantly being haunted by him and the memory of your history together.
But as you wrap your arms around yourself, the only feeling that you have now is nothing but agony, despair, sadness, and it takes you a while before you realise that what you are feeling is your heart breaking into pieces, realising only now that the shackles that you had thought to be the one holding you back from your happiness had in fact been the only thing that has been holding you up and keeping you together from falling apart. Now that you are about to become free from it, there is nothing stopping it from having your entire world and the life that you had created for yourself from falling apart.
Realising all of this, you find yourself determined to start working on your plan. Rising from the bed, you walk around the bag that you have packed earlier this afternoon and reach out to find your phone, setting it up on the table near the windows so you can have better reception.
It takes a while for the call to come through, and then suddenly his face comes to the screen.
“Hey there, stranger,” Matthew’s smile comes beaming from the other end, and it brings a similar smile to your face.
“Hey, just calling to say Merry Christmas before you get too tired.”
He chuckles softly when he hears this, before answering you softly, “Merry Christmas, babe. How was the family dinner?”
“It was great,” you answer him. “It was amazing, but it probably wasn’t any close to yours. Did the Christmas Gala go on well?”
Matthew nods, and pride comes to his face when he begins sharing with you about his wonderful night with his family and the important people that had been invited to the event. It appears that a lot of people had come from every part of the city just to attend the night. Something that isn’t too surprising knowing how important his family is to the city. With his parents being high ranked politicians while he and his siblings have slowly become successful lawyers following on their tracks. Had that been the reason why you were so drawn to him? The alluring world and the glamorous life that he could offer you that had somehow seemed to be the answers to your dreams?
You can see him still wearing his tuxedo for the night, and you admire his handsome look, even if you had seen it when he sent a photo of him wearing the tux before the gala had started. Seeing that he has yet to change, it shows that the event had only ended not too long ago and he had just returned to his penthouse.
“That sounds marvellous. Are you exhausted? You seem like you’re still glowing for some reason.”
Matthew laughs. “Just the Christmas spirit, babe. I just feel sorry that you weren’t here with me. You would’ve looked amazing if you had come with me in your pretty dress.”
His words make you smile, before you feel your guilt rising slowly, reminding you of what you need to do to make things right. “Seeing that you’re now home, I was wondering if we can talk?” Your heart starts to pound even before you can say anything, but you know that you need to get through this. That you need to do this now before it would be too late. “There’s something that I need to—say. A lot of them, actually.”
“Right, right,” Matthew says, nodding his head with a knowing look on his face, just as his beaming smile slowly fades. You can see him taking a seat, resting back on the sofa that you have grown familiar with after spending many nights there with him. He rubs his palm down his face with a sigh, before looking back at you through the screen again with an intense look in his eyes and says,
“Perhaps you can start by explaining to me about the request you made through our affiliates, Jeon and Partners, before you had to leave, when you had them draft a divorce statement for you, listed under your name.”
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It feels like forever before midnight comes to pass.
Throughout the night as everyone in the lodge descends into their slumber, retreating to their rooms one person at a time with the anticipation of waking up to the bright Christmas morning, you remain in your room, waiting, until the only thing you can sense beyond that door is silence. It doesn’t take much for you to sneak into your uncle’s room and use the drunken state that he is in to coax him into lending his truck. With the keys clutched in one hand and your packed overnight bag on the other, you move carefully through the night, making your way downstairs without making so much of a noise that could possibly wake everyone up and ruin your plans.
As you continue to make your escape and slip out through the side door heading to the parked vehicles, the conversation you had with Matthew earlier continues to replay itself in your head. After the last fight you had with him, he had grown so curious to figure out why you have been acting so strange that he had gone digging around to find what you had been secretly hiding from him.
The moment he revealed to you that he had found out that you had filed for divorce to someone else through an affiliate law firm, your heart had instantly plummeted. But then as you finally told him everything, making him understand your situation and why you had to do what you are about to do, the only thing you feel after was—relief. It had been the first sign that showed you that you were on the right track. That you are doing the right thing.
The only thing for you to do left is to walk away from this. Because you can no longer lie to everyone and there is absolutely no place for you here. Not anymore. At least, not until you can—
“So that’s it? You’re going to leave again?”
You are only a few steps away to reach your uncle’s truck when you hear his voice. For a moment, the thought that perhaps you are imagining it comes across your head. But then you turn around, finding him standing there on the side porch while keeping its lights turned off.
As if he had been waiting, lurking in the dark.
As if he had predicted this.
He remains silent as he makes his way to you, walking in slow, long strides with his head held high and his eyes locked on you. Stopping only two steps away from you, his eyes fall on the overnight bag you are carrying in your hand and his jaw clenches tight.
“You’re really leaving,” he says, before his eyes find yours.
“I—I have to,” you can barely choke out the words, suddenly feeling so small under the scrutiny of his gaze. Shaking your head, you dare yourself to look at him in the eyes to plead to him. “I’ve made a mess of things and I’ve only made it worse by coming here. You know I can’t stay. I’m so sorry.”
You turn away just then, only to have him stopping you. Catching you by the wrist, Namjoon pulls you back so that you are facing him. The hardness in his eyes is no longer present when you look up at him, though you still have no idea how to read the expression he is wearing.
He says nothing for a moment, just taking you in, then he pulls you closer to him ever so gently while murmuring, “Don’t go.” His request catches you by surprise, but it is nothing compared to what he says next. “You asked me to fight for you?” he asks, taking your other wrist into his hand as he gently peels the car keys out of your clutch. “Here I am. Don’t go. Don’t leave.”
Startled, your head falls back as you release a bitter laugh. “Oh, God. Namjoon—” You blink away the tears that are threatening to fall. You have been hoping that you could have a chance to keep it together until you can reach the town, or perhaps once you are back home, before you can have your breakdown. So much for your plans, you wonder while shaking your head.
“I can’t stay. You know I can’t,” you finally tell him. “I can no longer look into Winny’s eyes and not feel guilty for pretending to be someone I’m not, to play a role of the person who has no place here.”
Namjoon lifts your chin up with his gentle fingers, and he makes you look up to meet his gaze before he speaks. “That’s not what I saw when you were sitting there at the dinner table with us, singing along with Bernie and your uncle no matter how out of tune they were and laughing at my Dad’s corny jokes,” he says with his lips curling to a small smile. You are lost in the depth of his gaze to realise that he has not only stolen the keys away from you but he has also pulled your bag away, throwing it to the ground before he takes your hand in his.
“That’s not what I saw when you were holding my hand or when you are with Winny, tending to her needs and listening to her stories,” he says, bringing your hand to his lips. “This is where you belong, _______. You are home. You belong here with us. With me.”
He lowers his head as he says this, but instead of brushing his lips on your face or lips, he presses a kiss on the top of your head. At this point, you are slowly losing every bit of resolve that you still have, already forgetting everything that you had been planning to do.
His words serve like an enchantment, filling your head so easily to replace every thought, every doubt, and it becomes so easy for you to simply lean into it and embrace the way his request is making you feel when you have been waiting to hear those exact words to come from him for years. It had taken you so long to admit this, but you had never truly stopped waiting. You had done all you could to relinquish the hope you ever had for finding your way back to him again, only to have the memory of your broken heart stopping you from ever trying to reach out to him again.
“Stay,” he whispers softly as he buries his nose between the strands of your hair. “Don’t go.”
As you lean into him, he flattens one hand on your back, letting it drift slowly upward until his palm comes to the base of your neck. He continues to brush his nose gently across your hair, breathing through the strands while pressing his mouth to kiss your hair, with each kiss drawing a shiver through your body.
Your hand grips onto his shirt then, though you are not quite sure whether you want to stop him or to urge him to carry on. “Namjoon—”
“Sshh—” he murmurs against your hair, then his fingers find your chin, lifting your head gently to look at him again just when you try to avoid his gaze and pull away. He pulls your face towards him, letting his lips dance over yours ever so gently with a hesitant kiss.
For a brief moment, you make no move to return the kiss, still too stunned and still feeling too vulnerable against the turmoil happening inside you. As always, Namjoon manages to bring back all the emotions within you, and it takes you a moment to be able to process them all together, to let the last bit of your restraint crumble, and you begin to press against him, kissing him back gently until you both begin to let go.
He hums his approval as he kisses your lips before he pulls back. With his hooded eyes on you, he grips the back of your neck and tilts your head back. The hold he has on you feels firm, and yet he remains gentle as he is pressing his mouth on your furrowed brows, your temple, and then on your eyelids as your eyes are beginning to flutter close to his gentle kisses, before finally dipping down to find your lips.
Your fingers tighten on his shirt, and your mouth falls open against his to welcome him. And almost instantly, the kiss goes from a soft and gentle caress to a dominating one, growing hot and needy in less than a second, and you can feel his hunger taking over him as he slides his tongue into your mouth. As you are submitting to him, opening yourself up to the searing kiss and the touches of his fingers on your body, your own hands come reaching up to start clawing on his shirt, wishing it gone so you can feel the connection that you have with him through every delicate touch of your skin against his.
You have no idea what is happening to you. It is hard to explain why you cannot seem to keep your head on straight when you are in his arms. It feels like your body simply comes alive while also losing its will to run when he is holding you like this. It should be wrong to relish on this delightful feeling, when you had only come here in the first place in order to end this instead of coming back to it. But there is also something so right to be with him again. All the things that he makes you feel and everything that you share with him feel completely different from anything else that you had ever experienced. Though it is not as if you have truly experienced a lot when it comes to relationships and men.
Namjoon had always been the only one. From the only boy that you had ever loved to the only man that you have ever been with. Even if you have made up your mind to move on, to be with someone else, you have slowly realised that whatever you had with Matthew could never compare to what you and Namjoon have shared for years. And every memory of what you felt when you were with him is definitely worlds apart from the kind of feelings that Namjoon is able to ignite in you so easily with his touches.
Namjoon bites your bottom lip in the middle of the kiss, snapping you right out of it and makes you both pull back from the heated kiss. Both of you are breathless, the air between you curling with a thin veil of white fog, and there is no doubt that both of your bodies are burning with need. But neither of you make a move to come apart any further, keeping your hands on each others’ bodies to hold on and your mouths are still hovering against one another.
“Tell me you’re staying,” he whispers against your lips. As if the way you are kissing him has yet to serve as the answer that he needs to hear. And he simply needs to hear it, to have you say the words out loud.
But you find it hard for you to speak. Both from being so breathless still and for feeling the fear that you might be giving the wrong answer. Suddenly, you are no longer sure just where you are leaning into. A part of you still wants to flee, to protect yourself from the past heartache and the possibility of having to go through all of it all over again. While another part of you finds home in his embrace, and there is nothing that your soul wants more than to return to a place where you truly belong.
“I can’t—” you begin to answer, only to stop when you have no idea what to say. You simply cannot decide which path to take as of this moment, when everything seems to be crumbling just the way it did the day you left this town 3 years ago. But then you reach up, resting your palm on his face as you look straight into his eyes, finding the love that had been the reason for you to live, coming from the man who had once been your strength and your weakness, and everything inside you breaks apart. “Namjoon—”
You know that he can see it in your eyes as it happens, when he can see the pain in your eyes that is too stubborn to leave. Then he is suddenly looming over you, pushing you back towards your uncle’s truck until you can feel the hard ridges from the vehicle pressing against your back. You cannot really tell whether it is coming from his rage for seeing your inability to let go of the past or simply a part of his presence, but he sets your body on fire without even laying a single touch of his hand.
“You don’t have to leave,” he whispers, suddenly pressing so close to you as he pins you back against the truck that you can feel his chest vibrating with his deep voice.
“I have to,” you choke out, though you are starting to feel yourself giving in.
“No one said that you should.”
You continue to shake your head. “It won’t be right if I stay any longer,” you mutter softly, more to yourself than to him, but Namjoon takes it as something that you are throwing at him just to have a reason to walk away.
“Says who?”
“Namjoon, I—” You stop and look at him. Your eyes find his, finding the pain emitting from within their depths, and it is enough to make you question things. But you need to get things out of your chest and make him see it. “What we’ve done, what we’ve been doing—That kiss under the mistletoe, that was a part of an act, a show, but everything else that came after—” you shake your head at him. “It was wrong. We were wrong. We shouldn’t have let things gone so far.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” Your breath hitches just as the twist in your chest returns. “Namjoon, I said yes. I was already engaged to someone else.” You bite your tongue to avoid telling him the truth, that even if you leave today, you may not have anything to come back to. Not after that last conversation that you had with Matthew and how he had reacted to the news.
But instead of yelling at you, Namjoon simply looks at you with a deep gaze that has yet to waver. “You’re still my wife,” he says, with a tone that you can barely decipher, though you can still feel him laying claim on you with those words.
“Do you love him?”
His question surprises you. You open your mouth, only to close it again when you cannot find the answer. Do you really love him? Have you ever truly felt anything for Matthew? Or do you simply love the idea of having someone admiring you, loving you, chasing you to the end of the earth with a promise of forever?
The promise that Namjoon had once given you, and apparently he had kept without you knowing any of it. All of a sudden this thought comes into your head, sneaking in when least expected. It may have gotten inside your head ever since you started seeing this new part of him, to know all the things that he had been working on and the reason behind all of it.
But you still have to return, you remind yourself that you would still need to resolve things with Matthew face to face, to be able to have an actual conversation that a simple video call couldn’t provide so you can explain yourself properly. And you also have your job. The career that you have built for many years, waiting for you to return. Even if you know that things would certainly change now, because there is no way you could possibly return to work in the same place with Matthew. Not after what you did.
“One day,” he says, stopping you before you can say anything. “Just stay here with me one more day, and you can decide tomorrow if you still want to leave or if you want to stay for another.” He stops to take a deep breath, before adding with a small voice, “If not for me, then—”
You grimace when you suddenly remember.
Your eyes flutter close when a pinch of guilt comes to your chest. Would you really have done it to Winny, to just walk away and leave without saying goodbye? After everything that she had done for you?
You open your eyes again. And the first thing that you see when you look at him nearly knocks the air out of your chest. In his eyes, you see something that he had never truly shown you before. Something that you cannot remember ever seeing before.
You see his vulnerability. You see his pain. And suddenly, you question yourself if there is really something true in the words that he had given you before.
“Did you mean it? What you said before—?”
He frowns. “About what?”
“That you—” You stop, not sure how to approach this without having him pulling away from you again. Not sure how much it will break you if he isn’t giving you the answer that you want to hear. “That you never—”
“I never gave up,” he immediately answers before you can question him properly. “Never really did.” His deep gaze softens as he releases a deep sigh. Then you can see his guilt as he looks at you, before he covers it by resting his forehead on yours. “I wanted to race out there and fight for you the moment I realised that I was nothing without you and that I shouldn’t have pushed you away. But I knew that it wouldn’t be right for me if I had simply begged you to come back when you were finally getting everything you wanted.”
Once he stops talking, you find yourself exhaling a relieved sigh. Hearing his words doesn’t erase the pain that you had gotten from the past, but it does make your heart swell. And it changes the way you are seeing him even further. He is still silent as he gives you a chance to process this, making no move to touch you or to walk away, until you push yourself up on your tiptoes and press your lips on his.
“One day,” you whisper softly, finally agreeing. The logical part of your mind is telling you that you are simply agreeing to stay simply because it is late, and there is no way you could possibly drive all the way back to town in the darkness and through the route down the mountains that you can barely remember.
But the other part of your mind is telling you something else. Insisting that you would stay solely because of him. Because you want to see another glimpse of Namjoon that you haven’t seen and all that you have missed ever since you left. And you can tell that you are opening up to him, and opening up to chances, finally giving in to this moment, no matter how hard you have been trying to fight it. And you let him know this when you tilt your face up toward his once again, as if giving yourself to him, but also giving him a chance to take the olive branch that you are handing out to him.
Namjoon seems hesitant at first, not completely sure if you are truly giving things a chance or if you are seconds away from challenging him again. But as you remain defiant, keeping your chin up as he dips his head lower, and then lower, and you make no move to look away or to push him back, Namjoon no longer holds himself back.
You feel like you are in a daze when you feel his lips on yours, still barely recovering after all the revelation that he had just given you. He kisses you gently at first, brushing his lips lightly against yours once, twice, and then pressing slightly harder when he comes for the third. It sure feels like he is still holding himself back, as if he simply refuses to give in entirely. Not when you still refuse to let him see what his kisses and his touches do to you.
As you close your eyes, the pained look that you saw from him earlier comes back to you, reminding you of the pain that you had felt years ago when you walked away from this old town, and it brings back the pain that you felt from losing him then. Just as you lean further against him, you realise that you have yet to heal from that old wound, which explains the need that you keep feeling to protect yourself from having too much hope. You also realise that you have come so close to losing him again tonight, and you would have probably been nursing the opened wound if he hadn’t chased you out from running.
The moment these thoughts fill your head, your body simply reacts. Your chest arches against him while your hands move to reach out to him, fingers tightening on his shirt, pulling him closer and tethering him to you as you take his bottom lip between your mouth and give him a light bite. The pain that you ignite in him snaps him out of it. And all so suddenly, Namjoon loses all control, and he simply lets himself go.
The moment his mouth meets yours again, a growl slips out of him and he pushes you firmly against the side of the truck, pressing his hard body against yours to pin you harder in place so that there is no more chance for you to escape. As his kiss becomes deeper, with him spilling all his need into it, his hands move around you, with one of them resting at the back of your head to hold you still against him while the other comes wrapping around your waist to press you to his chest. You simply melt against him, feeling his heartbeat pacing against yours and your body heat searing hot between you that it could have melted the snow around you if you would let them.
“We need to get inside. Can’t have you out here, you’ll be freezing cold,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath already growing ragged with need, while his touches are growing hot on your skin that not even your sweater can keep you from feeling it.
“Okay,” you whisper against his lips, though there is something in his eyes that keeps telling you that it wouldn’t simply be an act of sheltering you from the cold if you ever let him take you back inside. That he has something else in mind and the moment he can get you someplace safe, to get you to a place that is warm and comfortable, letting you rest would be the last thing in his mind.
You can also feel it in the way he is grabbing your hand and pulling you with him back into the lodge. How he is walking with long, impatient strides, keeping his shoulders straight, it becomes more obvious that he is moving with a goal set in mind. And then he quickly proves to you that you are right when he makes a turn as soon as you are both inside the lodge, moving towards the other side of the ground floor and away from the stairs, before opening a door that he finds downstairs. The next thing you know, he is pulling you into a bedroom that seems to have been left vacant as everyone had chosen all the bedrooms available on the upper floors.
Once you are both inside, Namjoon wastes no time to turn you around and push you against the door right after he closes and locks it behind him. Then his mouth quickly returns to yours, pressing a searing kiss that no longer holds any apprehension, showing you nothing more but lust and temptation and the pure hunger that he has more than once shown you before. What happens next is a flurry of clashing tongues and teeth and lips moulding to one another. His fingers come up to the back of your head, clutching tightly on your hair to hold you in place as he continues to devour your mouth, drawing soft moans from your throat and light shudders all over your body.
With his other hand, he follows the surge of pleasure running down your body, tracing his fingers down your curves while pressing down on your sensitive spots as he makes his way down. Your chest arches as he brushes his thumb over your covered nipple, pressing down hard over the nub that the sweater you are wearing barely feels present. Then he grabs tightly on your waist, pulling you to him and pressing against the small of your back until your hips are connected to his, allowing him to rub the evidence of his desire right against your abdomen, showing you without so much of a word just what you have been doing to him while claiming you as his.
This is everything that you remember of him. The way he takes without any shred of guilt when he presses his lips on yours and his hands are gripping you possessively without giving you any chance to slip away. How he devours your lips with pure hunger, swallowing your gasps, drowning the sound of your moans, and drinking the sounds of your breath until you are nothing but a bundle of flames, burning from deep within with your desire that continues to build up stronger as he lets you feel his own. The way he fists on your hair, entangling his long fingers through each curl and pulling your head back to make you submit to him, giving him access to trail his mouth down the column of your throat and giving him a full reign to control your body. The way he is rolling his hips, pressing the bulge of his arousal against the center of your pulsing need while his mouth continues to devour you.
Namjoon grunts against your skin as he nips at the sensitive spot under your ear, as he has recognised every part of your body that would be able to respond so easily to his touches. Then he slides one hand—the one that isn’t holding you up against him—to reach beneath your sweater, climbing back up the moment he meets your bare skin underneath, and then keeps moving up, until his fingers meet your bra and he swiftly grabs on to it, pulling it down, giving him full access to your breasts.
His hand comes back up, taking one mound into his palm, sending a wave of pleasure down your body as he begins to work on the soft flesh and the hardened nub with his palm and fingers. The wave continues to ripple inside you, rising steadily, moving from where he is touching you towards your pulsing core.
For every single time you are lost in bliss under his talented hands, you keep telling yourself how wrong it would be to give in. Even if he had been right when he reminded you that you are still legally his wedded wife, but years have passed and you still have something left unresolved waiting for you back in the city. But as he continues kissing you, his mouth pressing at the right places along the column of your throat then coming back up to find your lips, his hands touching everywhere while igniting the flame within you, you keep finding it hard to convince yourself to stop, to admit that this is something that you shouldn’t be doing.
How is this wrong, when it is your husband who is touching you? The man who you are still legally married to, both in the papers and under the legitimacy of your vows? And how can you possibly say that this is a mistake, when your heart still beats for him the way it did the day you said ’I do’, and when your whole body would only come awake under his touch?
When his hands are on your waist, pressing and kneading the way he would do it back then while rising you up against the wooden door behind you, you finally realise the reason why it had always felt as if your skin was crawling whenever Matthew touched you. The reason why your body seemed to scream ’this is wrong!’ whenever you tried to make love to another man.
Because both your heart and soul had only been searching for the one they have always meant to be with, and that person is the man who is now lifting you in his arms, carrying you to the bed that is placed right at the center of the room.
With his mouth no longer latching onto yours, you finally allow yourself to look around. The room is dark, with only the soft gleam from the moonlight illuminating the room, but you can still see Namjoon’s desire in his eyes as he gently sets you down on your back, right on top of the plushy bed that has grown cold for being neglected for days.
Under his gaze, your whole body thrums with a sort of carnal desperation. Something that you are beginning to see as a feeling that he might be experiencing as well, when you watch his eyes glinting with lust and pain when he rakes down your body with his gaze, when his chest heaves with all the pent up desire that he seems to have kept buried for a long time, and when his hands seem to unable to stay away, already reaching out to you and touching you with his gentle caress as if he wants to make sure that you are real.
When your hands reach for him, you realise that you share the same desperate need to feel him, to touch and connect to him. All the pain that you felt from the past is beginning to simmer, but it is still present, reminding you how painful it would be to lose him again and how close you had been to let it happen.
As his touches grow bolder, you feel that you are getting just as eager. Your hands begin to tug at his clothes while your mouth keeps meeting his with a passion that you haven’t felt for a long time and matches terribly to his own. Namjoon slips your sweater off of your shoulders, tossing it away to the nearest chair, before tossing his own jacket away to join it. He returns to you in a matter of seconds, then slides his fingers beneath your shirt with a sense of starvation and need to touch your bare skin. You can feel his hunger when his body vibrates right when you are shuddering under his touch, and you can hear it when he lets out a deep grunt while his breath grows ragged the moment your skin connected to each other.
The sound that he keeps making is causing you to grow more impatient, and you begin to tug and pull at his shirt, not even caring about it when you pop out the buttons in your desperate need to take his shirt right off of his body. Namjoon seems to share the same feeling, when it seems like the only concern that he has at the moment is to get you out of your clothes. He keeps tugging impatiently at your shirt while giving you his kisses so recklessly that you can feel your lips bruising with each pressure of his lips on yours. But you care nothing of it, only returning the kiss with your own need, while you do the same as you continue to tug at his clothes until his chest is left bare right at the same time he manages to toss your shirt away.
His eyes instantly fall onto your chest when you come apart, eyes dilating at the sight of your breasts spilling out of your bra after the mess that he had created in the heat of the moment, and the sight carries on to entice him further as your chest keeps rising and falling with your ragged breath. It sends him into some kind of a hungry daze, as his hands absentmindedly reach out for you, all while muttering under his breath, “Beautiful,” before he dips his head, capturing your mouth while his hands continue to mesh, knead, pressing onto your soft flesh and pinching at your nipples until you arch your body against him, feeling the pleasure moving rapidly inside you like sparks of flame licking at your center.
His hands trail down to your waist, cursing under his breath when he finds the waistband of your pants getting in the way. Instinctively, you also curse along with him at your decision to wear them. Though it had been undeniably the perfect decision for you to take before running out into the cold, you hate to admit that if only you had been wearing a skirt, or perhaps the same dress that you had worn during dinner, he would already find his way to be inside of you, to be touching you right where you are pulsing with need.
He doesn’t even try to pull away from the kiss even as he tugs at the zipper on your pants with one hand while he tries to work on his own zipper with the other, all while his tongue keeps dancing and teasing against yours in a way which sends magnificent jolts of need all the way down to your toes.
He stops the kiss as he shoves your pants down to your hips and you help as much as you could—by tearing your flimsy bra and kicking the damn pants and underthings the rest of the way until they are all gone, fallen to the floor before Namjoon climbs back on top of you. By then, you are nearly blinded with desire, and it intensifies the moment he slips his fingers between your legs, finding out just how ready you are for him. The touch of his fingers dancing around your heat draws a soft moan right out of your lips, while he breathes out a sigh of relief, as if your readiness serves as the answer to his prayers.
Instead of taking the chance to continue devouring you, Namjoon pulls back, his fingers retreating from your pulsing heat to shove his own pants down, releasing his cock as he kicks everything away. His pants and boxers fall onto the floor with a heap of a mess, and his hand comes down to wrap his hard length, stroking himself a few times as he bends down on the bed, his mouth finding your bare neck where he presses a kiss onto. At the sound of your whimper, his free hand reaches down between your legs, finding your heat once more. This time, his fingers move rather gentle and slow as he circles around your folds, moving in a steady rhythm as he slowly finds the center, then he dips the tips in, pressing right where your arousal keeps dripping out.
He hums against the nape of your neck as he slowly pushes his way in, dipping his fingers into your heat all the way to his knuckles and grunts as he feels your body shuddering against him. “Fuck, you’re tightening around me, Baby Doll,” he groans deeply, growing nearly breathless as he relishes on the way you are pulsing around his fingers while he continues to stroke himself gently, you can feel him moving against your hips and you raise yourself, inviting him to push himself into you.
Instead, he simply moves his fingers, sliding them in and out of you and rubbing the digits against your pulsing walls while his thumb finds your clit, pressing and circling until the pleasure comes rolling upward and you are left trashing on the bed with the need for release. You can feel the pleasure rising, reaching its peak, but also not quite there. Namjoon can probably feel this too as he gives you a quick peck on the lips before pulling back, suddenly rising and then climbing down the bed. He still has his fingers playing with your cunt, slowly picking up their pace as he thrusts them deeper, pressing right at your sweet spot, before he pulls his thumb away and his mouth latches on in its place.
Everything falls into another flurry of sinful bliss while your body becomes nothing but a bundle of nerve ending as he plays with your body so fluidly—his fingers continue pumping in and out of you, his mouth and tongue taking turns to tease and torture at your swollen clit, sucking and lapping while sometimes he would get his teeth into the mix and brush against the pulsing flesh until you are left trashing and crying with pleasure. There are tears in your eyes at how good he is making you feel and how quickly you are coming over the edge. With your hands clutching on his head, you press your hips down against his face, riding his mouth and hand with a matching pace to the rising pulse of your climax, chasing it with the help of his coaxing words, until you are finally there, as your orgasm comes rolling so intensely there is nothing stopping you from falling over the edge.
Your whole body continues to pulse with the spasms of your climax even as he slowly pulls back, releasing you from his mouth while his fingers are still moving gently around your folds to help you ride it down. Moving ever so slowly, Namjoon climbs his way back up, pressing his hand onto the bed beside you to prop himself over you. He stays there for a moment, watching you closely as you try to control your breath, your eyes slowly opening to him with pure love and lust looking back at him right at the same time you are seeing them coming from his own eyes.
“You can stop me,” he whispers hoarsely. “If you don’t want to do this. If you still want to—”
The words die down on his tongue, and yet you can still see the fear and doubt in his eyes without him ever having to say them out loud. You reach out to him, trembling hands cupping his face, your thumbs brushing to wipe away the remnants of your release that are still coating his mouth and chin even after he had tried to brush them all clean. “Make love to me, Namjoon,” you whisper to him. “Make me feel alive again. You’re the only one who can make me feel.”
There is a hint of relief and a glint of hope in his eyes when he hears your words. With a smile on his face, he turns to kiss your palm, pressing his mouth on one side before turning to do the same to the other. His gentle hands come up, catching your wrists as he begins kissing down on them, then he brings your hands down to rest them above your heads, pressing them down to the pillows before he lowers himself on top of you and quickly catches your mouth in his once again.
“I’ve waited for this moment for a long time, Baby Doll. I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers against your lips, drawing your tears out when you realise that you have been feeling the exact same way.
One of his hands comes down, before you can feel the tip of his cock rubbing against your slit. He takes a moment to coat his shaft with your arousal, moving it up and down and then around your clit, making your legs tremble around him, until you feel the fat tip of his cock pressing and nudging at your entrance.
With his mouth pressing down on yours, he swallows the soft cries you are making as he sinks into you, groaning deeply as he feels your wet heat engulfing him, wrapping around his girth. He waits for a moment, only until he can feel the intense pulsing of your walls around him slowly wane down, until your body relaxes beneath him, until his own heartbeat steadies and he no longer has to worry about coming too soon to the pleasure of being buried inside you again after so long.
You throw your head back against the pillows as he begins to move, gently and slowly at first, his deep groans turning into whimpers as he relishes the wonderful feeling of his cock brushing against your walls. He thrusts, and thrusts, moving in and out with a steady pace, and you reach out to him just as he finally releases you so he can hold your hips up to him, your hands clinging onto him, urging him on as your need continues to boil hotter from the depth of your core. The sweet and soft sounds you are making soon becomes the encouragement that he needs, along with the way your nails are beginning to clutch and bury themselves into his skin. He leans forward, kissing you again as your hips begin to rock against each other. The old bed creaks beneath you, but nothing can stop either one of you from rolling your hips, chasing and drowning yourself in the pleasure of his lovemaking, pushing up when he presses down, slowly increasing the pace as the need to chase for climax begins to grow stronger on both of you.
Namjoon continues pounding and thrusting his cock rapidly into your heat while you reciprocate by moving your hips, lifting yourself up to meet each of his thrusts. The emotions piling up from the past few days that you have spent with him are all coming to a head, leaving you both clinging desperately to each other as you try to ease the tension that are still carried by both your bodies and your broken hearts. With a deep groan, Namjoon raises his hands, gripping the wooden headrest right above your head as he keeps on bringing you over to the edge of your bliss, picking up his pace as he puts more force into his thrusts, sending you both jostling on top of the bed. And yet his cock keeps hitting you deep to a point that you are feeling the mix of pain and pleasure meshed together in one delightful bliss.
Soon enough, the waves of your orgasm begin to build up once more, coming to you stronger and faster without giving you a chance to hold back. Your breath begins to come out shorter, the cries of pleasure keeps getting caught in your throat at the force of his pounding, before it comes out higher when the pain slowly descends, leaving nothing but pleasure in its place.
“I love you,” he rasps between his thrusts, wanting you to hear it. And you can see his need to let you know this when he never once looks away as he buries himself deep inside you. “I’ve always loved you and I still do. I never stopped, damn it.”
Your gaze turns up and finds his, only to grow blurry and hazy at the mix of your tears and the rising bliss just as you scream out, “I love you too, Namjoon. Always have.”
And always will.
At the exchange of your words, something within you snaps, and with one single thrust, he pushes you over to the edge, sending you tumbling over to the peak of your pleasure with a loud cry of his name. Your climax comes through you in an intense wave, vibrating from deep inside you and wrapping tightly around him to send him to his own release. A deep groan continues to rumble from his chest as he keeps on thrusting, the movement of his cock turns rapid and messy and filled with the desperate need to reach his end before you feel him swelling, tightening inside you, then he pushes forward and going so deep one last time as he releases himself inside you, filling you up with his cum.
The moment everything stops, Namjoon drops down beside you and pulls you to his chest. He continues to hold you tight between his strong arms, letting you feel his heartbeat without minding the thin veil of sweat building between you. As the remaining spasms of your release begin to wind down, your eyes slowly flutter to close, relishing on the mixture of emotions and the feelings running through your body—the warmth of his embrace, the wet heat coming from his release that is still dripping out of your pulsing core, and the feeling of love fluttering inside your heart.
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Your whole body feels incredibly relaxed, while at the same time, completely sore, by the time dawn comes peeking through the window. And yet, you find there is no need to complain about it when your body is also humming with pure pleasure as you open your eyes and stretch your limbs out beside him.
For the rest of the night after your rigorous lovemaking, Namjoon has shown you just how insatiable he could be when he is with you.
For hours, he had taken you in every position possible for a man to take you. With you on top, riding him while facing him and then facing the other way. With him on top of you, taking you hard and gentle and then with a lazy roll of his hips until you were sent into a slow rising bliss. With you in all fours, as he took you from behind, not even caring how the bed kept making loud noises as it kept on banging against the wall with how hard he was pounding his cock into you until your whole body was trembling with your intense climax. You have lost count on how many times he had made you cum, as he simply kept on going, only giving you a short amount of time for breaks each time before taking you again, as if he was making up for lost time the best he could, showing you what three years of exercising and working out while working hard labour had done to his body and stamina.
As if he had been doing it to prepare for this moment, just to please you like nobody could.
“I did some thinking. You know, after our fight 3 years ago,” he murmurs softly after kissing the top of your head. You have your head resting on his shoulder, while he has his arm around your shoulders, his fingers running up and down your arm absentmindedly to enjoy the silence that had fallen between you. “I knew you were right all along, but I guess I was too stubborn to see it then. Then I went to your graduation, watching you from far away since I had too much pride to join my Mom to sit with your family then. But I was still there to see you taking that step onto the life that you had always wanted, and that was when it truly hit me.”
You instantly look up at his face as you listen to him. It surprises you to hear that he had been there for your graduation, when you had spent the entire night after the ceremony crying over his absence. But you say nothing about this, only staying silent as you continue to listen.
“It took me a long time, but I also realised that just because we lost—” he chokes out as he always does whenever he talks about this, so you rub your hand gently over his chest, soothing him so that he could go on. “It didn’t mean that I—that we had lost a chance to still build our family.”
Sighing, you are filled with both relief and despair to know that it has taken him so long to get to this point. To realise all of this. But you are also glad that he is finally there. “That was what I kept trying to tell you,” you murmur to him while trying your best to keep your tears at bay. “But I had to understand. Our reason to believe that we could be a family at all was because of—of him, our little peanut,” you chuckle softly at the short memory of being a young mother. “So it was hard for both of us to look past that and to see us having a life without him with us. At one point, I couldn’t see it. But all I ever wanted was for us to heal together.”
Namjoon closes his eyes briefly and sighs. And then you can see the regret in his eyes when he looks at you again. “I just didn’t want to hold you back. When I finally realised that I could no longer put my life on hold, I also knew that the only way for me to change things up was to start from the beginning rather than for me to chase your shadow. I reapplied for college once I got back home, finished early, started working with my Dad to learn the ropes, and did everything I could to build everything from the ground up, both literally and figuratively, starting with my own life first, stopping it from crumbling to the ground before I started doing the same to the old buildings in town.”
You push yourself up. “Why didn’t I know any of this?”
Namjoon doesn’t answer you right away, but chooses to bring up your question instead. “You asked me why I kept sending the papers back.”
Hesitantly, you nod your head.
“I wanted to win you back,” he says, his smile never leaving his face. “But first, I wanted to become someone who you can rely on, and I knew I had to prove to myself, to you, to everyone, that I can be someone that you can depend on when the only thing people saw from me was how much I had failed you.”
With a sigh, he lets his head fall back. His eyes looking up to the ceiling but his gaze seems further away as he looks back to the past. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I still blame myself for what happened with—” Again, he chokes, but the pain is no longer there when he looks at you. “But I blame myself more for being stuck inside my head while I was grieving that I completely neglected you, completely disregarded my part as your husband, and as the man who vowed to take care of you.”
He lifts his hand, brushing your hair and tucking it behind your ear gently. “I’m sorry it took me a long time to realise it. I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve done it sooner,” he says, keeping his eyes on yours. “I should’ve been there for you and fought my way back up together with you.”
“You could’ve told me. I would have—” you try to speak, “I wouldn’t have—”
Namjoon stops you by pressing a light peck on the tip of your nose. “It doesn’t matter now anyway, right?”
And then it dawns on you, just as you are reminded of how your Mom had sat you down on that first night you arrived, before everyone came by to join dinner, when she asked you gently to have a proper conversation with Namjoon before deciding to do anything. When she asked you to listen to him. “My parents knew about this.”
Namjoon slowly nods. “They had always been the ones to give me their full support. And Bernie wasn’t lying when he said they all helped. Bernie and your uncle, specifically, have been great partners in expanding my construction business.”
It sure takes a lot to take in. There have been so many changes happening while you were gone, so many things that you have missed. Perhaps you were wrong after all when you had thought that life would simply stop in this place, that it would be impossible for you to expand your life in such a small town where there were so many barriers, so many limitations, and not enough room to grow.
But when you had managed to prove to everyone and the world that it was possible for you to have big dreams and to reach for them by leaving, Namjoon had shown that it was possible to have them all by staying.
“I signed the papers,” he murmurs softly, reminding you about the predicament that you have found yourself in. You close your eyes as your heart pinches under the memory of waking up to find those damn papers.
“I saw.” You open your eyes to look at him and sigh. “I haven’t put down my signature yet.”
“Why?” he asks, and then his vulnerability shines bright in his eyes. “Are you going to sign it?”
“I don’t know anymore,” you find yourself answering him, before the pain in your chest increases and you simply drop down on top of his chest to hold him tight. “I won’t. No, never. I’m going to burn those papers once the sun comes up.” Namjoon’s chest rumbles with a chuckle, though you can still feel him sighing with relief when he presses his mouth on your temple. “I ended it. The engagement,” you whisper to him while keeping your face pressed to his bare chest, afraid of what you might find when you look at him.
Namjoon says nothing at first before you feel him nodding. “I know,” he whispers as he buries his nose into your hair, breathing you in before he sighs in relief.
You raise your head to look up. “What? How?”
He hums softly. “I just—I can tell. And I overheard a little bit of your argument while you were on the video call earlier. I was standing right outside the bedroom,” he admits to you sheepishly. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” you say to him after reading the expression on his face, finding more relief and pride present there instead of remorse. “You’re definitely not sorry.”
A slow smile grows on his face as he dips his head, capturing your lips in his with a whisper, “No. No, I’m not.”
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There was a saying that you read a long time ago. One that said how time flies over everyone, but leaves its shadow behind.
Months have passed since you were reunited with Namjoon. Ever since the holiday week that you spent with him where you were given the chance to revisit your past and to have another look at the life that you had at that moment to find what you had been missing.
The summer breeze comes flowing through, making your dress dance around you as you slowly walk down the path between the guests, surrounded by the familiar faces of your family and friends who have arrived to become a part of this moment.
You make a quick glance over to the seats, your eyes meeting Winny’s, finding her beaming with a smile as she watches you with pride in her eyes. The trip in the winter had done a lot to help her recover, and she had become one of the first people around you to support this day to happen. Everything else had simply fallen in place since—the bar had been expanded to have its own bed and breakfast, Namjoon’s business has risen even faster than what he had ever predicted, as the Mayor’s testimony of his work had spread so fast to the neighbouring town that he had gained even more work, saved even more buildings, and there is nothing stopping him now from blossoming.
And then there is you.
It is certainly funny how life works, how it had chosen to send you into different paths and different kinds of adventures before it finally leads you towards your fairy tale ending.
When you came back home all those months ago, you had thought that you would return to the big city with closure, with a chance to move on with a fairy tale ending. Never once you had ever thought that you would find yourself instead.
Instead of closure, you had found a new beginning, a second chance, and to finally open your eyes to realise that you had already found your fairy tale ending, and you never had to look far to see it. And now you are here, walking towards the happy ending that you had dreamed of for a long time, in the magical moment that you had pictured in your head ever since you were a little girl—a white wedding at the top of the cliff, overlooking the town and the canyons below, with you wearing an ivory dress that sparkles beautifully under the bright sun above.
You look ahead, meeting Namjoon’s gaze as he waited for you at the end of the path, standing not too far away from the edge of the cliff that serves as your final stage. Right beside him is the Mayor, acting as the officiant for this ceremony, a surprise gift that he had offered after finding out about your plans for renewing your marriage vows with Namjoon. The fact that he had offered his service only months after you had officially become his legal advisor was almost too good to be true, but the man had claimed that he owed so much to Namjoon, and then now to you, to take the pleasure of becoming a part of this moment.
You look at Namjoon and smile at him. There are tears in his eyes when you finally reach him. His hands are trembling when he takes yours in his, but the moment your hands touch each other, the only thing you both feel is a wave of calmness, as the bond between you takes over to eliminate all the nerves.
You barely pay attention as the Mayor reads out the written vows that you had prepared for each other, only until the moment he gives you the final question, of promising a forever with Namjoon, both in happiness and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, and nothing can ever set you apart.
You raise your head, looking straight into the eyes of the man who had always been there as a part of your journey, whether or not he was constantly present in every page of your tale. Your husband. Your Prince Charming.
And as you look out beyond the cliff, into the sight of nothingness that also offers you a wide-open space with a thousand of possibilities for your future, you feel as if you are free falling into your new beginning, and you simply take it, knowing full well that he would be there to catch your fall.
“I do.”
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Extra: honourable mention - BM (Matthew) from Kard
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❥ Author’s note 2.0 | Thank you for reading!
❥ Taglist | @hearteuforjoonie — @blue1928 — @jeonmisha — @smitssharon02 — @mini-coop25​ — @sumzysworld — @namjooningelsewhere — @nyamnomnamujoon — @rrrrap-monster — @moonchild1 — @onlythehobi — @secretlypg95 — @girlsforgloss — @kpopstudybee — @mynameis-kim​
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sahmfanficbts · a month ago
Goodnight Nabi
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Pairing Single Dad Mechanic!Namjoon x female librarian!reader
Rating Explicit
Genre DILF mechanic AU, ghost AU, school AU. ANGST. SMUT. FLUFF
Word Count: 13.5k
Short summary It’s been years since his Nabi (Butterfly) flew away with angel wings. Kim Namjoon meets you, a librarian at his daughter’s school, who reminds him of life’s beauty and love he’s sure he doesn’t deserve. It will take a strange convincing from the other world to help him let go of the past and embrace… you. The question remains: Is he ready?
TW: Soft vanilla sex, some oralling (m and f receiving). Protected sex. Peaceful mentions of a grave. Quick mention of an auto accident.
Part of In the Spoop Collab--Shoutout to all the delightful lovelies in this collab who were superduper encouragining in this entire journey of fic-writing. Sorry! My fic's late!
Many thanks to: @vyduan @bangtanmademedoit @httpnamu-u @yeoldontknow @btsarmy9593 for betaing this. I hated writing this fic at times but you ladies just gave me the encouragement I needed to go on and all your insights helped so so much.
And always, the incredible @hobi-gif who always helps to make this sweeter, tighter, better, butter
A/N: This fic centers on the development of the character PRE relationship, and then provides a snapshot of what happens when they get together (when they bang, basically) and some kind of epilogue thingy. Enjoy!
*edited to add:Banner by the incomparable @madseok
Goodnight Nabi
He’s at the park where they first met.
It reminds him of her grave. Peaceful. Quiet. Beautiful.
Here, his senses are sharpened. Every color is brighter, every pinprick of sunlight, warmer. Even the breeze seems to linger on his skin after it passes.
The wind carries a whiff of a memory— it’s her. It’s how she smells.
She’s here.
Eager, like a little boy, he turns around to look at her just as he’d done so many years ago when she entered the little chapel, all in white. “Nabi—”
But just like that, it’s over.
She’s gone.
He wakes up. The pillow beside him is still untouched; the space next to him, still empty; the bed, still too cold.
Hot, angry tears stream down his cheeks.
Even in this goddamn dream, he still didn’t get to say goodbye.
It’s been six years since he lost her.
Still, he chokes out the two words that have never left his lips.
Goodnight Nabi.
“Remember, if anyone asks, you’re a CEO in the auto industry.”
Kim Namjoon winces at the letters C.E.O. The owner of a small, auto mechanic shop is hardly a CEO. But, it’s what his little girl wants.
Choking a little at his own exaggeration, he parrots after her, “I’m a CEO in the auto industry.”
With serious eyes, she nods approvingly. “You look great, Dad.”
The suit Sora found at the back of the closet looks a little tight on her father. It was his wedding suit after all, and like her, it was twelve years old, but it would have to do.
Glancing down, she noticed he had even polished his only pair of leather shoes. She looks up at him gratefully, her smile already melting his frustration with this whole fucked-up situation.
Namjoon knows the first Parents’ Welcome Night is so important to his only child. She’s a new girl trying to fit in at 7th grade when everyone else has already been friends since preschool at Lee’s College for Girls (established 1805).
The scholarship offered to promising students who embody the Lee philosophy of Honor and Excellence couldn’t have come at a better time. When Sora found out that her mother was a Lee girl, she always knew she wanted to be one herself.
And so, wise and mature beyond her years, she had taken it upon herself to apply for the scholarship offered at 7th grade. Namjoon had cautioned her that Lee probably gets a few hundred applications for a single scholarship and there’s always next year.
But Sora won it on her first try.
“Come on, we don’t want to be late,” she urges him.
Sighing, he quickens his stride to catch up. To anyone on the street, he looks like a well-heeled executive taking his daughter for an expensive dinner downtown. But the truth is, he’d parked two blocks away at her insistence so no one would link them to the faded red truck emblazoned in chipped gold paint “Kim’s Auto Repair. Service at its Finest.”
The autumn night breeze has a slight bite but Namjoon isn’t one bit cold. Instead, everything feels too tight and too hot. The collar always gets to him— it feels like a fucking noose. Same goes for the too-tight Italian shoes.
Why the hell did he let his daughter do this to him? His work overalls from the garage fit him just fine! And the well-worn boots with the steel-capped toes—less than a third of the price of the fancy shoes but a million times more comfortable.
A button-down shirt and a pair of jeans was his counter offer to Sora. But look at him now—he’s in a fucking suit. The only thing that truly fits is the light grey wool scarf around his neck Sora had insisted he’d wear. Apparently, it’s stylish and sophisticated.
As they enter the school, the reception hall is lined with portraits of famous alumni. Namjoon counts three Olympians, one princess, two heads of state, and even a Nobel Prize winner. It’s a snooty place, but even he has to admit that Lee’s has earned its bragging rights.
Surrounded by the rich-people smell of expensive cologne and perfume, Namjoon feels out of place. Old money meets new money within these oak-panelled walls, and for someone with no money, it’s as awkward as fuck. He suddenly wishes his nabi were here. She would know what to say. She would fit in right here with the crowd.
He shakes off the thought. It’s been years. Time to let go.
Thankfully, they are all ushered into an auditorium to listen to presentations from each of the subject heads on The Major Learning Goals for the Year 7s.
Fucking boring.
He pulls an interested face, but cocooned in the plush cushioned seat (goddamn, even the chairs are luxurious in this school), Namjoon’s thoughts drift from the monotonous drone from the Head of Mathematics to the 1965 Corvette which came in today.
The clunking sound could not possibly be coming from the transmission. It had to be the rear suspension. It just had to. He’ll have to check the axle half shafts with U-joints tomorrow.
“Dad, pay attention!” Sora hisses into his ear. “I can tell you’re thinking about the Corvette.”
There’s nothing he can hide from his daughter. She practically grew up in the auto shop by his side. Even as an infant, she’d watch him from her little car seat as he handled oil changes, brakes overhaul, transmission jobs, and bodywork stuff to deal with dents and dings.
Sora has seen it all, heard it all and often thinks she knows it all. And most of the time, she does. Properly chastised, he straightens in his seat and tries to look attentive.
“This year, we have a plethora of library activities for Lee’s sixth graders to participate in… we have fanfiction contests, search engine races, Battle of the Books...”
It was only when you took the stage did Namjoon sit up and pay attention. There was something about your voice which stirred him. Something warm, something inviting.
“Who’s that?” he whispers to Sora. Even from four rows away, you’re breathtakingly beautiful.
“It’s Miss Y/L/N. She’s the Head of Library Science.”
“What the fuck is Library Science? Is it Library or is it Science?”
“Shh! No swearing at school. You’re gonna get me in trouble.” Frustrated, she glares at him.
Namjoon musters his most apologetic look, miming a quick zip over his lips. It’s fun to see his daughter all riled up in her earnest, youthful way. He’s gonna miss this when she hits high school and he’s no longer fucking relevant.
But you’re speaking, and Namjoon doesn’t want to miss a word. Your voice is sweet, the cadence of your words rolling out like a river. He finds himself nodding to what you’re saying, smiling along with you while you talk about the new library amenities. When you’re done, he can’t help but note the way you glide effortlessly across the stage.
His eyes follow you as you take your seat with the rest of the teachers in the front row, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. It’s not obvious, but from his angle, he sees you’re stealing a quick, surreptitious look at your phone. A full smile spreads across your face, and he wonders curiously what or who gets to make you smile like that.
Quickly, you rearrange your features again to look mildly interested at whatever your colleague is saying on stage and Namjoon finally finally exhales. (His heart, though, is pounding loudly.)
But who the fuck is he kidding? It’s not like he’ll have a chance with you. There’s the shop which takes up all his time, there’s Sora who takes up all his energy, and well, there’s his past which has consumed all of his soul.
Sighing, he lets his thoughts drift back to the garage. The new hire on his team—Jeon—is quick on his feet, has a quicker mind, and seems eager to learn. Namjoon makes a mental note to let him handle the brake pads replacement he’ll do on the Hyundai Elantra tomorrow. There’s also the Lexus that needs a—
“Dad, we have to go!” Sora is urging him to stand, the rest of the parents are already heading to the mezzanine for refreshments. He quickly shakes himself from thinking about the business and wills himself to focus.
He’s not going to let his daughter down if he can help it.
“Dad, remember—” she begins.
“—I’m a CEO in the auto industry. Hey, I got it. Relax. I’m your dad. I got this.”
Sora sighs. It was the same thing he said when he took her birthday cake out of the box and accidentally dropped it. The same thing he said when he did the laundry and his red lucky socks got into the whites and turned her school uniform pink.
It’s not that she doesn’t like her dad.
It’s more like, whom can she talk to about what period cramps feel like or when she should start shaving (and how often)? Her dad always ends up blushing, then says he’ll check out a book from the library, which, a week later, would appear on her desk with a cheerful post-it note “Hope this helps!”
But what Sora really wants is to talk to someone, someone who has actually been through this… this disgusting thing called puberty.
If only she had a mom. A mom like Luna’s who takes her out to get their nails done together for mom-daughter dates and shops for different period products for her to try.
Or one like Hyejin’s who’s a doctor and explains everything about puberty, sex, and pregnancy with charts and diagrams and an honest-to-god plastic model of fallopian tubes and doesn’t flinch when her daughter asks her questions like what’s an orgasm.
Too bad her friends are not in the same school anymore. She hardly gets to see them now that she’s at Lee’s.
With a determined clench to her jaw, Sora makes up her mind to make a new friend tonight before she leaves. Preferably someone with a nice mom or older sister. Wandering off to look for a friendly face among the sea of students, she hopes her dad remembers not to swear.
As for Namjoon, his only concern is when the fuck is it a polite time to leave. He has to work on accounts early tomorrow morning. These damned teenie weenie mini cucumber sandwiches are not worth the extra five minutes imprisoned in this suit. He already ate three and they barely register in his stomach.
God, what he would do for some jajangmyeon right now.
Sighing, he turns around to grab another damn cucumber sandwich from the table when he suddenly bumps into you, splashing the entire contents of the fruit punch bowl you were holding all. over. your. dress.
“Oh SHIT!” he sputters. It’s loud enough that several people stop talking to turn to him.
You’re stunned from the shock of it all that you can only glare at him.
Quickly, he tries to redeem himself. “I’m sorry! I meant Crap! Feces. Poop—“
“Here at Lee, we prefer a simple oh no,” you say primly, trying to hold on to a shred of dignity while the entire front of your dress is now sticking to your chest. You smile awkwardly at the concerned faces around you to signal you’re fine, really, it’s just a little water, nothing to see here but right now you’re ready to crawl into a hole and die.
“I’m fucking sorr—,” he stops himsef again.“Napkin. Gonna get you a napkin.”
Of course this had to happen. Of course, the white bodice of your light floral crepe dress is now soaked and stained with (organic) fruit juice. Of course, as the librarian, you were asked again to be in charge of refreshments. And of course, something just had to go wrong.
Clumsily, he heads to you with a thick wad of napkins he’d just grabbed from the corner of the refreshment table, almost tripping over himself due to the wet puddle of punch on the floor. “I’m fuc— really, really sorry,” he says as he hands you the napkins and takes the empty punch bowl from you.
You’re trying to dab yourself dry as much as possible, to no avail. Instead, you’re noticing the outline of your lace brassiere is now awfully obvious through the wet fabric. God, you can even feel your nipples tightening under the icy water.
He notices it too.
Swallowing hard, he shrugs the scarf off of him and hands it to you. “Here, take this. It’ll keep you warm for a little bit—” he says, intent on keeping his gaze on your face and not anywhere lower. “And please, let me pay for the dry-cleaning for your outfit. Or if you need a new one, really, I’ll—I’ll pay for it.”
“Well. You’re lucky I didn’t wear my Chanel suit tonight,” you say wryly. Not like you can afford those on a librarian’s salary.
Namjoon marvels at how you can even crack a joke when he’s been so fucking dumb. “I hope you have something dry to change into?” he gazes at you, genuinely concerned.
“I should be fine. There’s a t-shirt somewhere in my office. And how do I return this to you?” you ask, careful to break eye contact with him because you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the clean, woodsy man smell of his aftershave or cologne or whatever spell he puts in that scarf of his that’s making you dizzy.
“Just give it to Kim Sora. She’s mentioned how much she loves the library in this school.”
“Ah. So you’re Sora’s dad?” Sora is that sweet girl that comes in all the time during lunch break to study or read. Often, she would stop by your desk to ask for a book recommendation and has now even begun to linger to chat about all sorts of interesting topics with you.
“Yeah. And it's Namjoon, aka the god of destruction according to my daughter,” he admits, looking forlornly at his hands, like he can’t believe his very own flesh has betrayed him again.
It’s hard to remain angry at him especially when he’s so contrite about it. “Well, god of destruction, I’ll return the scarf to Sora then—she’s great by the way.”
“Dad! What are you—” One look at the empty punch bowl and her father’s wool scarf around you, Sora instantly knows what has happened. “Ms. Y/L/N, I’m so sorry. My dad is just such a klutz—”
“It’s okay. Luckily, it’s just fruit punch and not hot coffee. But I’m going off to get dry. Have a good night Namjoon and Sora!” You give a little wave and try to send an extra warm smile to Sora to reassure her you’re fine and not mad at all.
“Goodnight Ms Y/L/N,” she says, still apologetic. When her father doesn’t immediately reply, Sora elbows him to remember his manners.
He clears his throat roughly and manages to smile back at you. Namjoon doesn’t know why the hell the words catch in his throat, but they do.
“Goodnight, Y/N.”
Lee Min-Joo (yes, she’s a direct descendant of the school’s founder) thought it was mildly odd that Sora Kim arrived with only one parent.
She also found it mildly funny that Sora’s father crashed into the batty librarian who’s always shushing her in the library.
With a satisfied smile, she continues gawking as she watches the water spill all over the librarian.
Her keen eye observes how Sora’s father looks so uncomfortable—his suit looks a little tight across the shoulders and too much of his shirt-cuff is showing.
She notices that while all the other adults in the room are talking to one another, Sora’s father is alone. And so is Sora.
She catches on that both of them are taking too many sips of water from their paper cups, pretending as though no one’s talking to them only because they’re too busy drinking water.
It’s awkward as hell.
And Lee Min-Joo is mildly intrigued.
People are starting to leave.
“Sora, let’s get the hell out. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”
“Daaad. Swearing.” Sora reminds him pointedly. “Just another five min—”
Namjoon is determined to leave but then a student, dressed immaculately, approaches Sora with a smile, her face open and friendly.
“Hey Sora! Isn’t this entire evening absolutely dreadful? Total waste of my time, if you ask me.” Lee Min-joo (Lee Min-joo!), who has never spoken to Sora before sidles up and puts an arm around the stunned Sora.
“H-hey, Min-joo! Yeah. Total waste of time. Boring.” Sora mimics Min-joo’s eye roll perfectly.
“Listen, I was wondering if you want to come to a sleepover at my house one of these days. We should ask your dad. What’s his name?” Min-joo asks innocently.
“Kim Namjoon?”
“Or should we ask your mom? Where is she, anyway? Or do you have another dad?” She jabs Sora conspiratorially as if it would be so funny if Sora had two dads.
“Uh, my mom’s not around anymore.”
“Sweet. One less parent to keep an eye on you. My mom’s always, you know, helicoptering. You know how it is, Moms.” Min-joo says with an exaggerated sigh and a flip of her wrist in the air.
“Yeah. Moms.” Sora parrots back, happy to finally have a friend to go to a sleepover with. The dull ache of not having her own mom still stings a little, but she pushes it down just like she has done with all her other emotions since she entered Lee’s College for Girls.
It doesn’t matter. She has a friend now. And maybe, even a sleepover invitation with the Lee Min-joo!
The walk back to the truck is chilly.
Sora hops from side to side to keep warm as she tries to keep up with her father’s long strides. She’s giddy and happy, glad that she’s made a friend tonight.
“So, Dad? What do you think of my teachers?”
“She’s nice,” he mumbles absentmindedly, lost in his own thoughts. God. He hasn’t felt like that in a while. Like a complete utter fool.
“D-a-a-a-d. Who’s nice?” she says, tugging at his hand. A mischievous smile plays on her face.
“Hmm? Who’s nice? Um, all your teachers?” he says, still dreaming about your pretty eyes and soft smile.
“That’s not what you said just now!” Sora squeals. “You said she. You said she!”
Namjoon knows he’s been caught out. Ears reddening, he tries to explain himself.
“Sora—,” he cautions.
“It’s the librarian! Ms Y/L/N! Right? Right?” Sora claps in glee as he looks away shyly.
God, how is his daughter so smart? “It’s nothing, Sora.”
“Well,” she says in that know-it-all voice of hers, “I think it’s time for you to get back in the game.”
“What game?” Namjoon thinks it sounds suspiciously like a conversation he had yester—“Wait. Who taught you to say that?”
The guilty look on Sora’s face says it all. Sighing, Namjoon goes into full Dad mode to explain that:
a) eavesdropping is wrong (but Dad, I just walked by the garage office and it’s not my fault my ears are sensitive)
b) matters of the heart should not be considered a game (duh, I know that, it’s more like a journey)
c) she’s a little too young to understand that such things are complicated (gosh Dad, I watch TV , remember?).
“All I’m saying, Dad, is I won’t mind if you have a girlfriend— like Jungkook oppa’s Erin, or Hobi oppa’s Hope and Ana. Even Jin oppa’s Joy is awesome. And Yoongi oppa’s Virginia. Someone nice and pretty and kind, like ahem, Ms Y/L/N,” she says, grinning at her dad who’s squirming at the mention of your name.
It’s fun to tease her dad. He gets too serious when he’s talking about cars or her grades, worrying about the garage business and about her future. Sora wonders if this is just so that her father won’t have to face his own loneliness. What’s going to happen in a few years when she goes to college. Would he be okay?
“Besides,” she says, eyes solemn and serious, “it’s not like anyone can replace Mom.”
Namjoon softens. “That’s right. No one’s gonna replace Mom.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t be happy with someone else, right?”
He swallows hard. Namjoon doesn’t know why it’s so difficult to say this aloud, but he forces the words to come out breezily, “Yeah. Exactly. It doesn’t mean I can’t be happy with someone else.”
“Just make sure I like her too,” she pauses, “okay Appa?”
Kim Sora never ever calls him Appa unless it’s very, very important.
“C’mere.” He draws her close to his side, the top of her head already brushes against his ribs. God, she’s getting tall.
Planting a kiss on her head, he reminds her, “Hey, I’m your Appa. I got this. Nothing will ever be more important than you. If I do find someone, she’s gonna be someone you’ll love, and—” he pauses, “someone I love.”
Damn. When was the last time he thought of the possibility of love coming his way again? Even the word love feels foreign on his lips.
“Now hop into the truck, no more of this love business, it’s not going to happen anytime soon.” He opens the door to help her into the passenger seat. Fuck. Sometimes he wishes he had a boy instead. They’ll just talk about cars and basketball all day.
Just as he’s about to help her close the door, she says in a rushed breath, “I’m sorry I insisted you wear the suit and asked you to lie.”
Namjoon breaks into a smile. His little piece of sky, Sora, is truly, truly growing up. “It’s not a lie technically. It’s just not really how I see myself— you know, as Mr. CEO.”
“I know. Thanks though. For polishing your leather shoes and all.”
“Only the best for my girl,” he says quietly.
What happened to the chubby little baby who could only give him slobbery kisses and poopy diapers? Sora’s looking more and more like his nabi every day with her serious eyes and beautiful hair.
How he wants to protect her from every bad thing in the world. But life doesn’t work that way, does it?
“Love you , Dad.” She leans in for a hug, and Namjoon wraps her in his arms, silently willing himself to remember this moment forever and ever. He hopes she will too.
“So is this when you ask for a raise in your allowance?” Namjoon teases. It feels better this way. Less intense. Less emotional.
“D-a-a-a-d! Come on!” she protests with a pout, hands on her hips. “Give me more credit than that.”
But without missing a beat after a perfunctory moment of indignation, she slyly adds, “There might be a sleepover coming up and more allowance for make-up wouldn’t hurt...”
Namjoon hurries to slam the door shut.
Some things are better left unheard.
In his bed that night, Namjoon has the dream again. The same park. The same familiar warmth flooding his senses, the same yearning to see his nabi.
This time, he hears her laugh. It’s deep. Full. Rich.
It’s how she laughs at the dinner table when Sora makes a funny remark that everyone must have drunk dinosaur pee at some time in their lives after watching a cartoon on The Water Cycle.
It’s how she laughs when he tickles her at the kitchen sink full of dirty dishes, his arms around her waist, fingers roaming devilishly over her ribs, bodies tight together while soap bubbles and lemon suds fill the air.
It’s a laugh he can’t resist.
Namjoon turns around to call her over.
But she’s gone again.
He wakes up sweating, gasping for air, confused as to why that laugh sounded so fucking real.
The last time he’d heard it was when they looked at the pregnancy test together and realised Sora was going to be a big sister.
It’s not like it’s going to happen again.
With a sigh, he falls back into his side of the bed and whispers for sleep to come like he’d always done.
Goodnight Nabi.
There’s something about being in a library that feels safe to Sora. Familiar books, familiar plots. Even the air, suffused with the musk of old carpets and older stories smells familiar.
She always comes in on the dot, five minutes after the lunch bell, always heads to the corner study carrel where she can be as inconspicuous as possible. Sheltered on all three sides from prying eyes, she methodically lays out her books and the dreaded laptop.
It’s a heavy laptop, black and bulky and clunky and heavy. It’s the model given to the scholarship students in the school. Free they’d said.
To Sora, the dumb latop feels more like a prison, like a ball and chain she’s shackled to while everyone else is using a sleek silver one. Quietly, she sets to work, determined to outstudy every single person in her class and prove her worth.
“You’d never guess what I found about Sora Kim last weekend. I heard from my father that her father is a mechanic. Can you imagine?”
It’s a loud whisper. One made deliberately to be heard, to scandalize the ear, to intrigue the mind. Min-joo is especially proud of her whisper.
Sora feels her ears burning. She ducks her head deeper into her study carrel.
“—and her mom is not around anymore—”
“—like she’s actually dead—”
“-—maybe, maybe her dad killed her mom—”
“—-maybe, he —”
She hears enough to start shaking anger. “Maybe if you girls would just shut the fuck up and ask me, you wouldn’t have to guess! My dad is a mechanic, so what? And my mom—”
“Ooh swearing! Swearing! We’re going to tell Ms Y/L/N!” Min-joo and Co. are delighted to finally have something on Sora.
“Tell me what?” you ask icily. “Bullying is three days suspension, minimum”
Stooping to shelve the books in the YA Fiction aisle, the catty accusations broke through your flow of thought and you’ve heard everything.
Normally, you’d stay out of the students’ petty squabbles, but this was far too much.
The girls disappear out of the library in a flurry of apologies before you can give them a more severe reprimand.
“Are you okay?” you ask Sora gently.
It’s a while before she gains the composure to speak. And when she does, her voice is barely a whisper, still shaky, still trembling. “I hate this school. I hate them. Wish I didn’t get in…”
Hot angry tears spill from her eyes as she starts to sob. “I heard the other girls talking about it the other day. She never even intended to ask me for a sleepover. Just pretended to be my friend to find out all this stuff about me—” She draws a shuddering breath as she struggles to speak in the midst of her tears.
“Those girls had no business talking like that,” you murmur, offering a tissue.
Sora’s hiccuping now from the force of her tears. “You don’t understand, it’s just so hard to fit in. So f-f-freaking hard. I should just quit. I should just quit,” she sobs quietly into her hands.
“Oh Sora,” you hesitate, not sure if you’ll be saying the right things. “It’s okay to cry.” Don’t try to solve problems. Listen. Empathize. “Just—just let it out… there, there.”
Patiently, you let Sora cry it out, hoping no one needs you right now at the circulation desk. It’s a good thing there’s a parent volunteer today.
Eventually, she starts to calm, and you reach for her hands to clasp them in yours. You tell her that it’s always always hard to start in a new school and she has every right to be here— she’d won the scholarship through hard work. It would be a pity if she gave up now.
Slowly but surely her smile returns, her very spirit strengthening. Gently, you suggest it might help to talk to the school counsellor about this.
In a grown-up voice, Sora explains, “Oh, I already have my own therapist. Dad and I used to go for therapy regularly when Mom died. I guess I should I should make an appointment. Dad should go too, since he’s so afraid of getting back into the game except he says relationships are not a ga—”
Sora clasps her hand over her mouth. She shouldn’t have said that.
You’re not sure how to deal with this deluge of new information but you tell yourself your focus should be Sora as the next bell rings.
“Do you feel okay enough to go back to class? Or do you need to see the school nurse?” You want to make sure you’re not forcing her back to class until she’s truly ready.
“I’m okay, now Thanks Ms Y/N.” Sora musters a brave smile and starts to pack her things into her bag.
“You’re welcome, Sora. Remember, give yourself time—”
“It’s going to heal everything, right?” she asks, staring at you, vulnerability in her eyes. “Time?”
You wish you could promise her that it does, but life doesn’t work like that, does it?
“I don’t know Sora, but we deserve to give ourselves a chance to find out. That much I know.”
As you see her walk away under her big, heavy backpack with determined, steady steps, you hope to god you said the right things.
The smoke starts to seep out of the hood of your car just as you start your daily commute home.
Alarmed, you pull to the road shoulder and call your automobile association, glad to have its number on the car decal stuck on the corner of your windshield.
The robotic voice over the phone tells you a tow truck will arrive and thanked you for your continued trust in their service.
Before you could ask how long you had to wait, the call cuts off.
Carefully, you make sure the hazard lights are turned on, then climb out of your car, over the safety guard rail.
It’s cold. You’re hungry. And just about damned tired after a long week.
The fall delivery for the new books of the month is late again. Plus, someone has been defacing the books on display, scribbling Free Riders Go Home within the pages.
One day, you will get to the bottom of this and find the culprit.
At least, you’re going to your sister’s for the long weekend to meet your new baby nephew. It’s a five-hour drive you’ve had to postpone twice already because of school and more school commitments.
Your hands are just itching to hold his plump little body, smell the baby-ocean smell of his sweet little head, kiss those chubby cheeks and cheeky thighs.
One day, perhaps you’ll have your own.
Shivering in the damp air of a dusky fall evening, you’re glad for Namjoon’s grey scarf around you. It doesn’t smell the same now that you’ve washed it. Sora wasn’t at the library today or else you would have returned it. Thankfully, it remained in your bag, and you snuggle in its warmth.
One day, you will return this scarf.
But It’s getting late and those one days seem far away on this dark road.
Suddenly, the bright orange lights from the tow truck flashes from behind, approaching your car steadily.
You wave from the side of the road, wondering if the driver can see you. As the tow truck approaches, the blinding headlights from the truck stun you for a moment before the vehicle slows to park in front of your car.
You hurry to the driver who just got out of the truck, his silhouette oddly familiar.
“Did someone call for a tow truck—”
In the dark, his face is partly hidden by the baseball cap, but the deep voice is unmistakable. “Mr. Kim!”
You sense his hesitation for a moment before he glances up. The lights from the vehicle illuminate his face as a smile spreads across his features when he sees you.
“I didn’t know you—”
“Yup. I’m a mechanic. Owner of Kim’s Auto Repair. Or—,” he sighs, “—according to Sora: CEO in the auto industry.”
His eyes meet yours and you share a light moment together, forgetting suddenly that you’re here, brought by a car breakdown, right by highway 605.
“The AA network said something about smoke?” Namjoon forces himself to focus on his job, afraid that his gaze is lingering a little too long on your face.
Automatically he gravitates to the hood of your car, and shines his flashlight over the engine, and then the transmission. Going through the motions of checking your radiator and AC compressor next, he feels safe again, glad for the familiar smell of engine oil.
He fiddles a little with his flashlight. “Doesn’t look good. Likely a cracked cylinder head or something worse. I gotta bring it in and check it.”
“How long will the repair take?”
“Three days? Maybe two?”
Your face starts to crumple. Really. Of all weekends. You’ve been looking forward to finding warmth and refuge at your sister’s for so long. And now this.
“Hey. You okay?”
“It’s been a—, been a—” You struggle for words to describe the failings of your day, the exhaustion you feel, the goddamn politics in your school, and the trip to your sister’s which is now delayed again.
There really is no word to encapsulate it all.
“— a shitty day,” he says gently, like he’s offering warm milk and honey.
“Yeah. A shitty day.” You let the swear word roll off your tongue, enjoying its vulgar unfamiliarity. It feels good to say it. “A shit shit shit shitty day,” you say, louder each time, bolder, surer.
“The shittiest,” he adds helpfully, a small smile playing on his lips.
“The shittiest shitty day.” You can’t help but feel the lift on the corners of your mouth, furrowed brows slowly dissipating as the tension of the day slowly fades away in his presence.
For a moment, there’s nothing to say because you’re both savouring the moment of being the two idiotic leads in a rom-com who suddenly realise they have a connection.
“So,” he clears his throat, suddenly feeling shy, “uh, do you want me to work on it? I could try to get it done by tomorrow afternoon.” He hesitates before adding, “Or if you want, I can tow it to your regular mechanic?” Fuck, he already feels like he wants to beat up whoever the hell is this guy who let you and your car down.
Without thinking, you blurt, “I want you.”
When you see him startle, you realise, with horror, what you’ve just said. Belatedly, you try to repair the damage. “To work on it,” you gulp. Steadying your voice, you try to go for an authoritative tone. “Want you to work on it.”
He beams in a way that feels warm and fuzzy, and for a moment, you forget you’re cold, hungry, and tired.
“Perfect. Let’s hook up.”
Now it’s time for your eyes to widen in surprise.
“I mean I’ll hook it up. To my truck. Since it’s a tow truck—” He’s suddenly embarrassed.
“—with a hook and all,” you finish for him.
“Yeah. Exactly.”
He looks cute when he’s flustered but you already know that since the first Parents’ Night.
A gust of autumn wind takes you by surprise. He notices you’re visibly cold, trying to keep your hands under the scarf that you’ve wrapped around your body.
“You know, my scarf isn’t going to do much to keep you warm. Why don’t you hand me your car key and you wait in the truck while I rig this up?”
“The scarf— I was going to return it but Sora—” God. You’re so embarrassed that you’re wearing his scarf when you were supposed to return it last week.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he reassures you. “It’s a good scarf. I don’t blame you. Sora’s great at picking things like this. She’s just like her—” the words disappear into the night. He looks away briefly, suddenly preoccupied with the scuff on his work boots.
“So. Why don’t you get in the tow truck? I’ll turn the heat on and you can decide what you want to do while you warm up.”
Gratefully, you hand him your car key to set up the tow, while he turns on the heat in his truck for you.
With you safely ensconced in his truck, the night suddenly seems quiet and inhospitable to Namjoon on this lonely road shoulder, punctuated by the intermittent drone of uncaring cars as they zip by. With a sigh, he heads to your car. Sliding into the driver’s seat, the smell of something sweet and inviting greets him.
It’s not air freshener for sure.
He steals a moment to himself, arrested by the lingering scent of your presence.
It reminds him of fresh laundry dried in the sun, of wildflowers pressed between the pages of a book, of warm tea on a cold night.
It reminds him that it’s been a while since he held a woman close to him, close enough for him to chase her scent along her neck, close enough to breathe in the sweetness of her skin.
It reminds him that it’s been too damn long.
With a sigh, he does what he always does: lock the handbrakes, turn on the hazard lights, and forget about what his heart has been missing all this time.
When he joins you in the cab of the truck, he asks if you’re still feeling cold.
“I’m warm now, thanks to the heater. But honestly, I should get an Uber and head back.”
“I don’t know if an Uber will come to pick you up from the side of the highway. Where do you live?”
You both figure out that it’s easier for him to drop off your car at his garage first. And he offers to then drive you back quickly without the burden of the tow.
It sounds like a good plan, but as he starts the truck, you remember he’s not just Namjoon, your road-side saviour, but Sora’s father.
“What about Sora?” you ask, heart thumping, because you did not expect this turn of events when smoke began pouring out of the hood of your car.
“She’s babysitting at our neighbour’s. Saving money to buy some makeup. Some eye thing… whatchamacallit massacre? Mas—”
“Yeah. Mascara.” Namjoon rolls his eyes in mock teenage angst.
You laugh at his eye-roll. “She’s too beautiful for make-up at this age.”
He sighs. “See, that’s what I told her. But she says I’m a dad and I don’t know about these things. If only—” Namjoon feels the words catch in his throat.
“If only what?” you ask quietly.
There’s no good way to finish this sentence.
And so he shifts gears like a pro and says “—if only ads these days were more about breakfast cereals and sugary drinks. I mean, what the fuck is it with this shit about eye-lash elongation? Or extension? Existentialism!” He forces a laugh which sounds hollow even to his ears.
You know this wasn’t what he wanted to say but you suppose you’re just a stranger, a customer who needs a tow and a transmission job, a librarian who isn’t even his daughter’s teacher.
Your eyes soften as you look at him. There’s a hard clench in his jaw as he keeps his eyes stubbornly focused on the road. A glimmer of watery shine slips from the corner of his eye and you wonder about the hell he has been through.
“For what it’s worth,” you murmur, “she’s a great girl. Studious. Focused. And above all, she’s kind.” Softly, you add, “You must be doing something right.”
Chest tightening, he grips harder on the steering wheel. Really, what the hell did he do which was right? What about the one big wrong in his life?
It’s a while before he can answer you.
“Thanks,” he says quietly. “Sora’s one of the few good things in my life.” Shaking off the wistfulness in his eyes, he turns to give you a quick grin, “So, library science huh? You’re into Dewey and all that shit?”
“Yeah. Library Science and Dewey is my shit.” You let out a little laugh.
“400–Language. 500–Pure Science. 600–Technology. 700–Arts and Recreation. 800– Literature. 900–History and Geography.” It pops out before he can stop himself.
“Whoa, where did you learn that?”
Ah fuck. Now he has to explain himself. He can’t believe he was such a show-off.
“I worked in a library before,” he pauses, “as a janitor.”
“We needed something extra in those early days with the baby and all. I got fired after a while. Too busy reading instead of cleaning the aisles in the reference section.”
“Well, you could say, as a librarian, I’m doing the opposite. Too busy cleaning instead of reading. I like things neat, and I swear— these rich girls are some of the messiest, most entitled on earth. They never put anything back on the right shelves.”
As you and Namjoon share a laugh, a shudder of pleasure courses through him. It’s been a while since he enjoyed a genuine laugh with a woman. It feels good.
In the awkward silence which ensues after a good laugh, your stomach starts growling unabashedly, startling even Namjoon himself.
“Aye, my traitorous stomach. Just pretend you didn’t hear that. I had to skip lunch today because they needed someone to supervise the kids—” Another loud growl from your stomach interrupts you, impeccable in its timing.
“Listen, I can cook some ramyeon for us. Something quick and simple, and then I’ll give you a ride home.”
“I really shouldn’t impose,” you protest, aware that it’s late, that he’s Sora’s dad, that you’re really just a librarian at his daughter’s school.
“You’re not imposing. Besides, Sora should be home soon. She’d worry if she didn’t see me at home, and she’d worry if she knew you hadn’t eaten. So… ramyeon?”
“Ramyeon,” you say, thrilled in your insides.
He pulls up into the darkened garage, the boys having left for the weekend to party wherever boys go to party with their partners. The apartment above the office is also dark. Sora’s not home yet.
After you wait for Namjoon to unhook your car from the tow truck, he shows you his apartment which sits atop the office building of the garage.
“I had to sell our house three years ago to buy over the garage from my mentor who retired. I hope you don’t mind. It’s not large, but it’s home.”
“I don’t mind. Cozy’s good,” you reassure him.
Entering the apartment, Namjoon turns on the soft lighting which casts a warm glow in the living-dining room where a large leather sofa takes centerstage.
You spy a plethora of plants lined up on the window ledge longing for the morning sun to come; and to your delight, rows and rows of books standing like obedient school children across wall-to-wall shelves.
“Make yourself comfortable. Food’s ready in five minutes.”
He heads to the kitchenette, body on autopilot as he goes through the motions of making the one dish that has sustained him and Sora for days busy and hectic, on nights lonely and cold.
Looking around the living room, you spy a small framed photo sitting quietly among the pots of plants. It’s of a beautiful woman with eyes crinkled mid-laughter, her hair lifting in the wind. She looks exactly like Sora.
Well, Sora looks exactly like her.
He sees you staring at his favourite spot in the home. “That’s Sora’s mom. My—” He doesn’t know why he struggles every fucking time he says this. It never gets easier. “My late wife.”
He hates it. It sounds as if somehow his nabi is habitually late when, in reality, she was always early to anything and everything—early for their first date, early for their wedding, and too early for her death.
“I’m sorry.” You did not mean to be the cause of the hurt which flits across his face.
“It’s okay. It’s been some time. Years and years.” His natural instinct for ramyeon honed from years of pots boiling over with noodle and soup moves him back to the stove.
Glad to have a reason to escape the pity in your gaze, he carefully pours the contents into two bowls, setting them on the dining table.
“Eat,” he says. “Careful, it’s hot.” He’s so used to being the dad that the cautionary words slip out easily. Dude, she’s a grown woman, she knows it's hot. Why the fuck does he feel so stupid around you?
Ravenous, you tuck into the steaming food, slurping up each delicious spoonful. Namjoon too, is also preoccupied with eating; still, he notices you don’t pick at your food, but slurp heartily at its MSG-laden decadence.
It’s a while before you notice it’s suddenly all quiet.
When you meet his eyes, he’s staring at you, in a mix of shock and awe that almost half of your ramyeon is gone, like his.
“What?” you ask, a little perturbed, wondering if you have a noodle fragment hanging off the side of your chin.
Namjoon smiles widely. “I’m impressed. I’ve not met anyone who has matched my ramyeon-eating skills.”
“Hey, plenty of guys eat ramyeon faster than I do!” you protest.
“I mean I haven’t met a woman who can eat ramyeon like me,” he explains lamely, words flowing out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He’s stupidly cursing himself for sounding like a sexist pig.
“Well, then. Maybe you haven’t met many women!” you joke.
A brief shard of regret (or is it disappointment?) flashes in his eyes.
It stops you short.
“Sorry, it’s none of my business.” God, you’re so embarrassed now. Averting his gaze, you focus on wolfing down your noodles.
His words, however, freeze your spoon mid-air.
“Two,” he pauses, “met two in the last six years.” He swallows hard. “When things got serious, they realised they just didn’t want the whole step-mother thing.”
You’re quiet for a while. “God. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s okay. Sora and I have a good routine going. Plus being the sole owner of the garage is a lot of work. There’s ordering of parts, dealing with customers which I swear is more work than fixing cars…” Talk about her, stupid.
Clearing his throat, he steers the conversation away from his fucked-up dating life. “So. How long have you been at Lee’s?”
“Three years. I was the fifth hire after a string of them quit when the new management took over. After a few weeks, I realized why. The school just doesn’t respect the work it takes to run a library at an elite school. I get thrown all sorts of extra duties that I shouldn’t have to do but, oh well… what the heck. I need the money. Plus—” you hesitate.
You wonder if it sounds too cheesy.
“Plus what?”
“Plus, I love my job, helping kids to love reading. It’s worth all the cups of coffee I have to brew for staff meetings, all the refreshment tables I have to organize for this conference, all that oh-you-dont-have-any-grading-to-do-so-you-can-do-the-decorations-sh—.”
“Shit,” he adds, helpfully.
“I was going to say charade but shit works too.” You grin again. It’s not something you’re used to—this offhand swearing that comes so easily to him. But he makes it feel right.
“Sora hates it when I swear. It’s too inappropriate. I’m too inappropriate.” He rolls his eyes again, just the way he’s seen Sora do. “Hey, do you want some dessert? She made cookies—“
The eager footsteps followed by the unlocking of the door announces Sora’s arrival.
“—ah, here she comes,” Namjoon gets up to grab a cookie jar on the counter. “She’ll be surprised to see you here. Probably thinks we’re on a date or something.”
You have no time to react to what he’s saying because Sora enters with a burst of questions.
“Dad? Who’s here? I saw the shoes outside. Ms Y/L/N! What are you doing here?”
“I heard you made cookies so I had to try them.” You beam at her, enjoying her little squeal of delight.
“Ms Y/L/N’s car broke down,” Namjoon keeps his voice calm and even; as if this happens to everyday. “I happened to answer the tow truck SOS and I picked her up.”
“Pick her up? Pick her up? Dad! Very smooth!” Sora giggles.
“Sora.” he grimaces. He shoots you a look to convey to you see what I mean? “You want a cookie or not?”
“You mean, do I want a cookie I’ve made.”
“I mean, do you want cookies you made with my money.” Namjoon does not miss a beat. You can tell he’s used to the sass.
“I want cookies I made,” Sora stands her ground, a little impish smile on her face.
Namjoon plays along, and insists, “With my money. Say it. Or don’t get any.”
“It. There. I said it.”
It takes a second before Sora’s shrewdness hits him. “You’re too smart for me kiddo. I surrender.” He makes a great show of reluctance about handing over the cookie. They tug playfully at each end of the chocolate chip cookie before Namjoon finally lets go.
Sora sits down next to you, grinning as though she’d won a million dollars. “Next time, Dad, I’m going to use my babysitting money to buy all the ingredients and they would be truly my cookies.”
“Ah, but you would be baking them in my oven. Plus, I feed you. The very energy you need to make those cookies is only possible because of me.”
“Next thing you know,” Sora says knowingly to you, “he’s going to say half of all my cells have his chromosomes… which means I owe him half of all the cookies I will ever make for the rest of my life,” Sora prattles on as she takes a dainty bite. “Thank goodness I don’t have to give the other half to M—”
Everyone freezes.
The quiet hum of the refrigerator becomes too loud.
Namjoon looks like he was just slapped in the face. Sora, the poor girl, looks horrified at what she was about to say.
You wish you weren’t here in this very private family moment.
“Dad, I didn’t mean—”
Namjoon sits stock-still for a split second before he can answer. Eyes softening, he murmurs, “It’s ok. Mom would have loved a good laugh.”
“She would. Wouldn’t she?” Sora whispers.
“C’mere.” He opens his arms and Sora goes over and buries her face in his chest, quietly tearing up.
He pats her head lightly as his eyes are squeezed tight, face twisted half in pain and half in relief because it’s probably one of the last hugs he has to savour before she grows up.
The way they hold each other sears your heart. Not wanting to intrude in this shared moment between a dad and his little girl, you avert your eyes and stare at your lap.
Your own father was never particularly affectionate and you wonder if Sora knows how fortunate she is. Quietly, you take out your phone to book an Uber. You really shouldn’t overstay.
“Feel better?” he asks Sora.
She nods quietly.
There’s tenderness in which he tucks a wisp of hair which has escaped from her ponytail behind Sora’s ear. He’a reminded suddenly of how much Sora looks like his nabi, long hair tied in a ponytail always skewed to the side, eyes puffy after a cry, baby hiccups coming out in staccato breaths.
It’s a little too overwhelming and he retreats into the safety of annoying his little girl. Squishing her cheeks with his large hands, he cups her face and says “You’re too cute, little miss. Go brush your teeth and go to bed. I have to send Ms Y/N home.”
It’s your cue to announce that you should take your leave. It’s late and you’re sorry for having stayed so long.
But Sora will have none of it.
“Ms Y/L/N, please let Dad drive you. I’m fine. There’s an alarm and everything, and the Chois are just in the lot next to us. Besides, I can always call Jin oppa or Hobi oppa…”
“Ah, too bad. I just asked for an Uber just now, and my ride is on its way. But your cookie? That was totally worth my car breaking down.”
Sora giggles and finally allows you to say goodbye.
You’re just about to get your bags when his fingers brush against yours.
“Here, let me,” he says, his breath so close to your neck that you almost shudder from how good it feels. “Least I can do is see you out and wait with you,” he drawls, each word low and deep.
You nod dumbly and let him lead you into the cold October night. It’s almost Halloween.
“I’m sorry about what happened back there,” he begins. “She can get emotional sometimes.”
“No! No! It’s okay. It’s sweet, really.” Waiting for the Uber on the sidewalk, you stare up at the night sky to distract yourself from the growing silence between you.
“It’s such a big world,” he says, staring up in the sky with you. “I just hope she knows how important she is.”
“You’re a great dad, Namjoon. She’ll find her place. Give her time,” you say, wondering if your dad ever thought of you as important.
He sees you shivering in the chilly air. “Here, take my coat.”
“I already have your scarf.”
“You’re still cold. Take it. You can bring it back when you collect the car.” He shrugs it off and hesitates a moment, unsure if it’s right to do this thing he always did for his nabi.
He tells himself it’s only a coat, it’s only a goddamn coat, and then drapes it over you, making sure it hugs your shoulders snugly.
When your Uber arrives, he helps you in with your bag, arms gently guiding you in.
“Thanks for staying. Text me when you get back? Just so I know you’re safe?” he says it loud enough for the driver to hear because no one else is going to get hurt on his watch. No more. “Share this ride with me on the app, yeah?”
“Yeah, I’ll text you.”
As you settle into the seat, the warmth of Namjoon’s coat tucked around you becomes extra comforting.
You wonder how mere nylon and polyester can retain so much more than heat, how it seems to hold the smell of a good man, how it carries his strength, how it sends his care.
You wonder and wonder.
In his darkened apartment, Namjoon sits alone on the couch, staring obsessively at his phone; the glare blinds him but he doesn’t care. He’s tracking the little car, willing it to move closer and closer to the safety of your home.
Eyes bleary, he thinks he should go to bed, but his feet won’t move, his body remains stuck to the couch. But his heart, his fucking heart, travels with you, across pixels and over roads until he sees you home.
Y/N: I’m home. Thanks for the tow, the ramyeon, the scarf AND the coat.
Namjoon: You’re welcome. Glad you’re home safe. Goodnight.
Y/N: Goodnight Namjoon.
He stares at his phone screen, wishing for something more. But really, why long for something more with you when he’s got baggage?
He doesn’t expect more from you. He shouldn’t expect more.
And so, with a sigh, he turns off his phone and hopes his heart will switch off his feelings.
It’s midnight when he finally crawls into bed, showered and truly tired. As he shifts under the covers, he always does the usual: put his left arm on the pillow where his nabi used to sleep and whisper the last two words of his every day.
“Goodnight Nabi,” he sighs.
He’s at the park bench this time.
The sun is high in the sky, and he feels the sweat sticking to his shirt. There are butterflies all around, and he knows this dream well enough to know that she’s not among them.
He sits still. Waits for the breeze to blow. Waits for the familiar prickle on his spine that tells himself she’s on her way.
In these fevered dreams, he has always woken up when he turns to look at her. He’s never had a chance to ask her how she is, nor a chance to ask her for forgiveness.
So tonight, he wills himself to stare straight ahead on a little tree far into the horizon.
Don’t look.
He smells her first—like the first crisp apple of fall mixed with baby’s breath and oak. He loved nuzzling her in all her secret spots for this heady, intoxicating scent.
Sometimes his nabi would squeal and giggle and laugh, then push him away playfully; other times she would press him deeper into her skin, wanting him to breathe her into his very soul.
Don’t turn.
The slight give of the seat on the wooden bench tells him that she's here, next to him. His fingers long to inch towards her, to feel her hand clasped in his. He wonders if he’ll feel the imprint of the wedding ring on her finger.
Don’t see.
“Is that you, nabi? Tell me it’s you,” he breathes hard, willing his eyes to stay the course. He can’t fuck this up like the last few times—he was too eager to look at her and this dream between the living and the dead always ended too soon.
“Baby, it’s me.” She laughs. “It’s really me,” she convinces him like he’s a little boy who’s been lost for too long and can’t believe he’s finally home.
“Nabi. My Nabi.” He knows it’s a dream but his tears are real, rivulets of regret trekking down his face, soaking his pillow.
“I’m sorry.” He digs his fingernails into the flesh of his palms to stop himself from reaching for her. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“We had good years, baby. I’m not sorry.”
“I should’ve gone that day instead of you.” The words Namjoon has uttered over and over by her hospital bedside, by her grave, by her empty pillow come pouring out on instinct. “Me, not you. Me.”
“None of that now. You gotta let go. Please baby, don’t do this to yourself.”
Namjoon weeps. The guilt which came like an enemy, has stayed as a friend; it fills the gaping hole which his nabi left. Let go? He can’t. It’s a punishment he deserves for what happened.
He’d promised he would go to the pharmacy to get the fever meds for Sora. Instead, he got stupidly sidetracked, working on a car for the overtime pay.
He still remembers the exact model, a blue Nissan Sentra 2015 with a deluge of transmission problems. Worried for Sora and tired of waiting, his nabi drove to get the meds herself and met with an auto accident. If he’d gone instead… if only he’d gone instead.“I can’t—I can’t—fucking can’t,” he’s gasps from the weight of the memory.
And then, her whisper—her whisper is so close to his ear Namjoon feels the warmth of her breath feathering his cheek. “Listen to me, Namjoon. You can. Let me go, baby. You’re gonna be all right.”
“No, nabi,” he chokes out. “Stay. Please.”
Everything in him longs to turn to her like how the earth reaches for the sun.
But Namjoon feels the weight on the bench lighten. His heart, though, is still heavy with regret. She’s gone again: too soon, too quickly, too quietly.
Let go.
The air around him still hums with life—the chirping of birds, the stray bee—the eternal light, still bright and warm.
It sings to him a song of comfort—he doesn’t need to punish himself. This burden is not for him to carry; this yoke, not for him to bear.
Let go.
He sits and he sits, the parched landscape of his heart soaking up the peace in this place. He lingers until he’s ready because he knows he can’t come back anymore.
Let go.
And when he finally wills his eyes to open, Kim Namjoon says the words he didn’t think he could.
“Goodbye, Nabi.”
Dates with Kim Namjoon usually go according to plan.
He’s meticulous with details. There’s the book-launch date to meet your favourite author. The bike ride date. The picnic date. The museum date (lots and lots of those).
But today, the art installation you were going to view was suddenly cancelled due to maintenance issues.
So here you are, at his home, the dishes are done, ramyeon swimming in your stomachs, both of you sitting together on the couch with books open on your laps.
(And Sora?
Sora made a huge show of yawning loudly, announcing she’s going to her room and read with her headphones on with music at full blast. She might be sleeping early even, and she sleeps very, very soundly and wakes up very, very late. And, oh yeah, she’s not coming out of her bedroom unless there’s a fire, a huge one.)
He’s diligently reading pages and pages of Thus Says Zarathustra while you struggle to read even a paragraph of the YA novel which just came into the library.
Gah, you’re not sure what kind of date this is going to be.
But what you want to happen, what you really want, is a make-out date.
You’ve held hands (the first time, dear reader, was electrifying.) He has kissed you, always chastely by the cheek when he sees you home. There are random side-hugs from him here and there that send a thrill down your spine.
Once, his fingers lingered around the nape of your neck when he adjusted his coat to drape more protectively over you. The keening, desperate sound which leapt from your throat was so embarrassing that you quickly covered it with a violent fit of coughing which got him concerned.
You wonder what’s holding him back. There were many times you swear he’d lean in to kiss you, only to pull back suddenly. Times where you accidentally brush against the front of his body and he flushes a deep red. Times where you think his hands linger around your shoulder, unsure if he could hold you closer and tighter.
And you? You find yourself holding back too. Afraid to take the lead. Of being too eager. Too much. Too soon.
“Namjoon?” you ask, as he turns a page of his book in hand.
“Hm?” He looks up from his book.
“Could I ask you something?”
“Sure,” he says, closing his book, fully focused on you.
“Remember when we first started dating?”
He remembers all right. It took him a fair bit of pep talk from each of the guys to finally ask you out.
(First, he’d ask you to drop by with the car because he needed to re-check the wiring. Then, he’d said he needed to check your tire treads with the approach of winter. When he asked you for the third time in as many weeks to bring your car in for a look at the heater core, you were getting worried.
Namjoon, what’s wrong?
‘M just checking the heating core.
Is it bad?
Don’t think so. But um… (muffled, since he has effectively buried his face into the bonnet of your car) um, d’you want to get dinner together after this?
Sorry, what?
Do you want to go out for dinner? You know. For fun. I mean, for food too, of course. And uh, just to get to know each other.
Phew. I thought you were going to say I need a new car. Sure. Let’s get dinner. For fun. For food. And just to get to know each other.)
There’s no fucking way he could forget all of that. His heart was hammering then, a bit like right now. “What about it?” he asks, a little nervous. It seems like one of those trick questions.
“You said it’d be nice to get to know each other.”
“I did,” he nods slowly, fearing that he’s now on thin ice.
“It’s been a few months. Do you think you know me well enough by now?”
“No, not really,” he says solemnly. There are whole worlds to explore.
“Well, what else do you want to know?” you ask, insistent.
You wish he would want you. Wish he would want you in the way that you want him—the burning of skin left untouched, of lips left unkissed, have left a dull, deep ache in the pit of your stomach.
“Why, I want to know lots of things. Like what’s your favourite dinosau—”
“What was your favourite cartoon when you were growing u—”
“Powerpuff Girls.”
“What’s your favourite blue crayon col—”
“Blueberry muffin.”
Your eyes are all fiery; blood and emotion heated as they course through your body. No more holding back. Leaning in closer to him, you ask quietly. “Anything else you want to know?”
His breathing gets a little erratic with your body pressed so near to him, lips angled right there next to his. “Y-yeah,” he whispers shakily, “I want to know your favourite way for me to kiss you.”
“Like that, Namjoon,” you say, breathless from desire, as you tilt his chin so you can savour each other fully. “Kiss me, like that.”
Set free with your permission, Namjoon slots his lips gently into yours and tastes your rosebud mouth which has been driving him crazy. He’s sampling the Cupid’s bow, teasing the seam of your lips, parting his own lips to breathe you in. He kisses you thoroughly, giving himself to your pleasure, the pace not hurried, nor harsh.
As he pours himself into each kiss, his fingers glide to your neck, stroking lightly up the sides, down the back of your nape, gently under the collar of your sweater until he hears that sound he’d heard you make before.
“I wanted to know if your neck is that sensitive,” he murmurs, “heard you the last time.” You keen into his touch, softly whining, whimpering. “And now I know,” he says, as he repeats the motion again just to feel you arch into him, “—it is.”
This. This is how you want to be wanted.
Emboldened, you grasp his shoulders and press your body more fully into his side, breasts brushing against his arm, as heat pools in your core. You can’t resist. “I want to know you too,” you tease into his ear, “your favourite dinosaur, Mr. Kim?”
Taking the chance to kiss him behind his ear lobe, you sample the smooth skin along the shell of his ear, along his jaw, tongue darting to tease the rough beginnings of his five o’clock shadow dotted here and there.
He shudders, jolted by the touch of your tongue. “Oh, fuck.”
“Fuckasaurus? Never heard of that one,” you snicker while he holds back a snort. “Next one. Favourite cartoon?” you ask, as you pull at the collar of his sweatshirt to plant kisses on the skin exposed there, your hands finally free to dance across the defined planes of his chest.
Namjoon can hardly think. He hopes your hands don’t go any lower because everything suddenly feels too hard and too tight.
“Captain Planet,” he chokes out.
“Gonna take pollution down to zero?” you tease as you laugh quietly into his shoulder.
“Not funny,” he growls back playfully. “Don’t forget, I repair catalytic converters.” Namjoon is about to poke fun at Powerpuff Girls but his mind goes blank when he feels your fingers at the hem of his sweatshirt.
“Want to know the name of your favourite blue crayon, and—” you murmur, gently easing your hands under the shirt, “—if it’s okay if I touch you like this?”
“Y-yes,” he stammers, as he feels the light trail of your fingers feeling their way around his abs, climbing up his ribs, brushing against the flat of nipples while your tongue trails a hot, wet kiss down the side of his neck. “Electric,” he gasps. “Electric blue.”
“Electric? Is this electric?” you ask as your fingers circle his nipple over and over again.
“God, yes.” He wants to touch you too, like you’re touching him. But his fingers hesitate a little, hovering just above your sides.
You see how his hands are uncertain, and you lean in to assure him. “I want this. I want you. Guiding his hands, you bring them to your body, heart soaring with pleasure as he lets out a low groan. “Let go, Joon.”
Something in him breaks. He can let go. He will.
“Where can I touch?” he rasps. “Where?”
“Everywhere. Touch me everywhere.”
His hands clasps your waist, pulling you flush against him, tight and desperate. All that he’s held back from himself is unlocking like a flood. “Need you,” he grits out.
“I know.” You pull yourself over to straddle his lap. Experimentally, you rock your hips against his, relishing the way he’s so hard for you. “I feel it.” You swivel your hips again, this time, finding a rhythm that draws groan after groan from him. “I need you, too.”
“Can’t do this here,” he gasps. “Sora.”
“Your room?”
With urgent hands and urgent kisses, you make your way into his room, the little thud of his door marking a finality of what you’re about to do.
You don’t want him to change his mind, or second-guess himself. You don’t want him to hold back one bit from you. Quickly, you’re about to lift up the hem of your sweater to get it off when his hands stop yours.
“Hey. I know we haven’t done much. But I’d like to take my time,” he drawls out quietly into your ear. “Let me.”
You nod, breath hitching as he tenderly untucks one arm then another from your sweater sleeves before lifting it over your head. You shiver with a tingle with the way he looks at you in your bra.
“Is this the same one? The same one from Parents’ Night?” he asks, hoarse with desire.
He doesn’t need your answer though. The pattern of your lace brassiere which imprinted itself on your wet top has been burned into his mind over and over. It’s the same one. Reaching behind your back, he unclasps it, a heady rush roaring in his ears as he peels it off you.
His hooded eyes feast on you, the curve of your waist, the slant of your shoulder, the way your hips flare, and when he can’t help himself any longer, he allows himself to kiss you along your jaw and then down your neck, hands still resting lightly on your hips.
“Namjoon, just touch me already,” you urge him. “Put your hands on me, your mouth on me. Everything.”
It’s the encouragement he needs.
He bends down, mouth, lips, tongue and teeth descending on the soft flesh of your breast, nipples already tight and hard from his gaze. Moaning, you bury your fingers in his hair pulling at him a little frantic, a little desperate. Your hands flit over his shoulders—everything about him is so broad, so big, you feel wonderfully protected by him.
“Your shirt, take off the sweatshirt. No fair,” you gasp, little breaths coming hard and fast as one of his hands drifts down to the apex of your thighs. Measure for measure, you think, as you cup his length, thumb gently stroking the evidence of his arousal underneath his jeans.
He shrugs his shirt off while your hands go to his jeans eagerly, unbuttoning him and unzipping him. He sucks in a breath when your fingers play along the waistband of his briefs, dipping under the cotton fabric to feel the hot, hard flesh. When you swipe the head of his cock, already leaking arousal, he grunts in pleasure. “Slow down. I can’t last like that.”
“That’s okay, I don’t want you to hold back,” you look at him, eyes imploring to believe you.
“No, you first.” He urges you down onto his bed. “Lie back for me,” he says softly. “Want to know you, know how you sound when you come.”
How you both struggle off the remaining clothing is a blur. All these weeks and months of holding back of wanting to touch but not daring; of wanting to take but not having; of wanting to give, but not getting; has ignited into an unstoppable desire for each other.
Slowly, he dips his head into the juncture of your thighs, urging them apart, only to see that the insides of your thighs already have a light sheen of arousal. “God, you’re so wet.” He licks and kisses the smooth skin, tongue sliding slowly along the folds of your cunt before entering you. He learns from your cues, listens as you squirm with pleasure into his mouth. Fisting his smooth crisp sheets, you squeeze your eyes tight as he rubs your clit with a finger. “Show me how,” he pleads.
You tutor his fingers, teaching him a rhythm that your body is most familiar with. Namjoon gets it quick, and soon, you’re panting his name, chest heaving with effort as you focus on all the tingly sensations his tongue and fingers send into you.
“Namjoon.” When you climax, your thighs tremble and he relishes every moan and heated huff. You stop breathing. You stop thinking. You can only feel the pinpoint of pleasure breaking your sinews into a million strands.
When you’re finally calm from your high, you stare at him. A look of incredible joy on his face.
“I thought I was the one who came,” you say. “Why do you look like you just came?”
“Happy. I’m just happy to finally hear you. You sound sexy. Hot.” His eyes crinkle up in a smile, dimples winking at you.
You laugh. You never really thought about how you sounded when you climax, but you’re glad he likes it. Smiling at each other, you can’t help but lean in again to kiss him in this post-climax bliss.
The kiss turns heated and he gasps for breath. “Can you take a little more?”
“Yeah, I can take it. Come inside me.”
Namjoon grabs a condom by the bedside table. This moment feels incredibly awkward in its intimacy and he feels a sudden need to explain himself. “The boys got it for me. When we started dating.” He rolls his eyes. “Or else, the ones I’ve had would have expired already. Anyway, I hope I still remember how to—”
“Shh… you’re rambling. You’ll be fine.” Seeing his fingers trembling a little, you take the packet from him and open it. With you sitting on the side of his bed, the height at which he’s standing allows you to admire his dick—thick and hard with desire. Pumping him from his base to the tip, you lower your lips and take him into your mouth. His short, violent gasps of pleasure thrill you to your toes, giving you courage to keep swirling your tongue around him.
“G-gotta stop now, love. Not anymore right now.” He almost fucking came.
As you slide the latex down his length, you know that one day you will find out how he sounds when he comes in your mouth. But right now, you’re aching to feel him inside you.
It’s so quiet. This moment where he’s about to join himself with you.
Slotting himself between your legs, he puts an arm under you to angle your head. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just wanna feel you inside me,” you encourage, canting your hips towards him eagerly.
But Kim Namjoon will not be hurried. He kisses you first, cock prodding gently between your thighs while he nips and laves on your hairline, behind your ear, down your throat. Fingers splaying across your belly, he writes the words for love in Hangul, writes it without telling you, a language of skin on skin, as a pledge of his body to yours.
When he finally enters you, you both sigh with pleasure. His skin, sweaty and hot, slides against yours, but his arms, muscled from hard, manual labor, anchors you to him.
He clenches his jaw, tight, holding back and holding on as he feels the snug clench of your walls around him. “You’re tight, love, so tight.”
He keeps his movements controlled, completely focused on not thrusting too hard, or too fast. But you want his wildness, want him to lose himself in you, to forget his own name and remember only yours. “Let go, Namjoon. Let go for me. Want you to feel good.”
“One more time. Let me know how you sound when I’m buried inside you like this,” he breathes out. He brings a finger to your clit, muscle memory taking over, just like how you taught him to get you to gasp out his name. Your entire body is on fire with need because the pleasure is building, and building. And then he mouths at your breast again, drawing the nipple tight in his mouth. You come arching into him, body melding with his in a rush of molten heat.
Digging your nails into his back as you moan his name, he shudders at the thrill of pain and pleasure. “Fuck. I’m coming.”
He chases his own high, hips stuttering, breath coming in desperate spurts, running to your voice in his head which urges him to let go, let go.
Choking back a cry, he comes hard and long wrapped in you—your legs around him, your heart beating wildly against him, your gaze locked steadfastly on him.
You know him now.
And he, you.
And you both know you will never want to let go.
The graveyard is full of life this morning. Birds are chirping noisily, excited by the little family walking up the path.
Namjoon and you and Sora have come dressed up for the occasion. He has a new suit now, one which fits his physique better. He walks between you and Sora, proud to show off the two women in his life.
Stopping at the headstone, Namjoon traces the photo encased there. “She’s beautiful, nabi ,” Namjoon begins. “Looks just like you. Top of the class. Wise. Giving. Steady. Just like you.”
“Hey Mom,” Sora’s voice is a low, beautiful alto. It suits her unflappable personality well, which is an advantage, considering she’s going to take the nation’s most rigorous coursework for her age this year.
She doesn’t really know what to say. Her mom is someone she talks to in her thoughts, a lively spirit who helps her to press on in her studies, someone to laugh over puns with. No, her mom is not here, not at this quiet grave. It feels awkward as hell to speak to a headstone which bears a photo of the dead. But it’s what her father wants.
With a deep breath, she says, “I miss ya,” in a typical taciturn teenage way.
Namjoon is a little annoyed. Is that all she can say?
And you? You’re not sure what to say yourself. Looking at the tight clench in Namjoon’s jaw, you know this is more for him than for you or Sora.
He clears his throat, now feeling a little foolish that he’d insisted everyone come. “This is Y/N. Um. She loves Sora. She loves me, too. And I love her.” He holds your hand, glad to feel the circle of metal around your ring finger. You’re his.
Under the blue sky, Namjoon holds yours and Sora’s hands on either side of him to share a moment of silence, letting the quiet of the morning soak in.
You think about the good memories and stories that you’ve heard about Sora’s mother and your heart is grateful for her life.
“Thank you, nabi,” Namjoon chokes, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude at this chance of life with you and with Sora. “Thank you for the good years together. Thank you for Sora. Thank you for how you loved us.”
Tears are now streaming down your face and Sora’s too. This time, this time, the three of you lean into each other, seeking and finding shelter.
“I hope we’ll make you proud by how we love each other.”
A soft wind blows through the trees, stirring up the autumn leaves of another year that have fallen. The rustling leaves seem to say a farewell of their own.
Goodbye Nabi.
Dear reader,
May we let go when we need to, and hold on when we should.
It’s hard sometimes to discern when to do what. I hope we can find the wisdom for the road ahead for each of us.
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minyfic · 19 days ago
detention - KNJ
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↣ Namjoon wants to believe that he’s not a bad guy, but you’re unafraid of acting on your desires.
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pairing — namjoon x reader
genre/rating — R | smut, slight angst
word count — 4K
play — detention by melanie martinez
warnings/tags — math teacher!joon, high school au, legal age gap (reader is 18), strong language, infidelity, sir kink, y/n is…kinda twisted, scent kink, explicit smut — edging, oral (f), face riding, clit biting, cum eating, biting/scratching, multiple orgasms, fingering, panty stuffing (in mouth?), dirty talk, bit of degradation, spanking, protected sex, cowgirl, slight dacryphilia
a/n — throwback to 2019 when I was obsessed with the K-12 album
It’s not like you care. The scowls from the prissy girls sitting a foot away from your irascible teacher’s desk makes you laugh to yourself, pissing them off further when you give them the finger, their faces scrunch up in repulsion, whispers no doubt filled with the talk of your platform boots that are crossed over your boyfriend’s lap.
A smile graces your face when you hear your name being boomed out into the sterilized room, having expected his early admonishment.
He points to your shoes and Jungkook lets your calves go reluctantly, pulling the seat of his chair in closer to his desk. You scoff. What can a sexually deprived, under-paid man do other than hand you a detention slip?
“I didn’t want to disrupt the class, but I think I should remind you that you’re not following our school’s dress code,” he sighs, frustrated eyes set on your face.
You clear your throat before scrubbing your hand down your cheek, compelled to meet his gaze. If he wasn’t so hot you would’ve shot him with a bitter comment like you usually do with your other pestilent teachers. But even you are affected by his sinewy forearms and smoky voice. Just like the two at the front, who everyone in the class, except Kim Namjoon himself, know how desperate they are for a millisecond of his attention.
“My shoes are black,” you state matter-of-factly, leaning back in your chair to fold your arms.
His lips part, before clenching his jaw, in a way that you know will haunt you later tonight. All twenty-seven pairs of eyes are on you, like any other morning in math. Because that’s what Mr. Kim wants, to put you on the spot, as if you would be fazed by it.
“This is your final warning—”
“It was her final warning yesterday, sir!”
His eyes flit to the prude in front, holding up a finger, “do not interrupt me when I speak.”
You roll your eyes at her muted ‘yes, sir,’ knowing that she thrives on his stern intonation.
“This is your final warning—" he stresses on the word ‘final,’ to remind himself or you, you’re not sure “—and if you show up with that jacket or boots again tomorrow; detention on Friday afternoon.”
If you weren’t so mesmerized by his plump lips you would’ve responded with a slight nod to your head, but his voice drowns out any other thought, “did you hear me?”
Your nosy classmates wait for your response, some with fear, others with sniggers but you provide a minor shrug.
Detention on Friday afternoon meant time forgone with Jungkook, watching the sun fade into murky orange with Namjoon instead. It’s not like your boyfriend would mind anyway, you’re pretty sure his tangled thoughts have gone your route by the flustered state he’s in whenever he’s under Namjoon’s attention.
“Back to work everyone! You know we’re having a quiz tomorrow before your finals as prep,” he informs as he rises from his seat, spinning around to give you a perfect view of his cute ass.
You slot the end of your pen between your teeth, head cocking to the side. Mr. Kim, you know for a fact, is not all what he puts out for the world to see. It’s not a secret that he and Miss Cha from the admin office had something going on last year. But you did consider the fact that not everyone knows, not everyone is as attentive as you when it comes to Kim Namjoon, married, no kids – yet – and a tedious job he no doubt regrets ever faking a passion for. But he’s ‘charming’ and ‘kind,’ a math whiz. So good with the ungrateful kids he’s forced to endure on weekdays when he’s not at the gym, or picking his wife up from her SoulCycle classes. Because she needs to keep fit in order to keep a man like him.
Anyone can tell that he has standards. Standards for the coffee beans they use in the staffroom, the kid who cleans the chalkboard, the pristine suit vests he dons, the row of figurines sitting on his desk and most importantly, his students. He has a reputation to uphold. That’s why he stops you as you pass his desk a day after that lousy quiz, not like he needed to when you were stalling, ogling his fresh haircut.
He slots his fingers together, eyes disappearing into slits as he waves the other students goodbye before his eyes skim to yours, not falling below your neck.
“Firstly, you didn’t even try with the quiz yesterday,” he begins, shoulders rolling back as if he wanted to draw your attention to them, “and you’re still not in uniform.”
You hold your baby pink jacket open as you shove your fists into the pockets, glancing down at your white shirt and hideous plaid skirt, “I am in uniform.”
“Jacket, earrings, black nail polish, rings, but you ditched the boots today,” he exasperates, eyes tracking each accessory as he lists them.
Head tilting up as you watch him tower over you from the other side of the desk, your face heats when he sets his hands flush against the wood. But you won’t make him aware of the affect his expensive cologne has on your leaking heat, chewing on your lip with innocence.
“I don’t see why it’s an issue. You don’t seem to say anything to the other girls who wear fake lashes and all that shi—"
He leans forward, chin jutting down to peer into your eyes, “I want them on my desk, now.”
“Jacket,” he repeats, voice lowering with each syllable, “earrings and those rings.”
He shakes his head, silencing you with another laser beam piercing into your own eyes that refuse to stray from his. Clicking your tongue, you shrug off your jacket and pull off the skull rings, unhooking Jungkook’s earrings begrudgingly and laying it in front of the calendar you can tell he plucked out from a garden catalogue.
He nods in satisfaction and hands you the red slip which you take from his warm grip, fitting it into your pockets without breaking eye contact.
“Anything else? My shirt too?”
For a second, you find his eyes lowering to your chest, Adam’s apple bobbing which plants a ridiculous idea in your mind. One that has your confidence heightening, especially when he takes a step away from the desk and folds his arms. Shielding himself from you.
“My skirt? Since you had an issue with it the last time.”
Too short. Which you know was an excuse for him to point out that everyone can see your ass when you bend even a little bit. Including his own wandering gaze.
He sets his jaw, cheekbones popping with the action, “that’s enough, miss. See you tomorrow in detention.”
You wave, grinning to yourself at the teeny bit of information that excites you more than anyone would want to believe. He’s on duty tomorrow.
Palm pressing down the metal handle, you halt in your step when he calls out your name, hair sliding over your shoulder as you turn to face him. Your heart stutters in your chest when he gifts you with his signature smile, fitting his hands into his pockets.
“Glad Kibum would have some company tomorrow afternoon.”
Your smile falls in horror, a groan echoing in the deserted hallway as you push open the heavy door.
Of course. Kibum would be there too. Your class president who has nothing better to do with his life than nit-pick his fellow students’ faults. A pain in the ass. Mr. Kim, the principal, the fucking president, for all you care, pinned a few badges to his coat and he became the most detestable eighteen-year-old to ever be given a modicum of authority.
There he goes. Soiling your plans. What plans? Plans to seduce Kim Namjoon? You don’t need a plan for something like that. He already fell into your lap without even knowing it. And he’ll act on that pent up desire sooner or later.
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Jungkook forced you to wear the school jersey too this time. Because he thought it was funny seeing you in olive green. You let him have his laugh before stuffing it in his face as you made your way into the building, grumbling out greetings to the teachers who are shocked to see you enter after school ended.
Just to spite, you didn’t attend classes today. But you will show up for detention lest Namjoon throw a hissy fit and send you to the principal’s office to hear the lecture you’ve probably memorized by now. You also want to get your fill of his handsome face and sculpted body. And that thought is enough to make you forget that Kibum and his anal personality would be present for the next three hours of torture.
“Good afternoon, sir,” you sing-song, taking a seat two rows from the back, straight ahead of his desk.
He’s not even surprised to see you, like you expected, but you do notice the slight twitch in his left brow.
“Oh, you’re here,” he lets out with a deep sigh, scribbling something down on his calendar.
“Yep,” you reply, drumming your fingers on the desk as you glance around at the empty seats, “where’s—” dickhead “—Kibum?”
He doesn’t lift his head as he answers, and it bothers you slightly that he hasn’t even caught a glimpse of your new earrings.
“He wasn’t feeling well so I sent him home early. Why?—” He meets your gaze, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly, “it’s not like you two get along.”
So he noticed. It makes you wonder what else he noticed about you. And it’s just you.
You throw your head back with a mirthful laugh, “we don’t, and I don’t intend on changing that.”
“That’s a shame,” he returns to whatever it is he was writing, “would be nice if you joined people like him more and not Jeon Jungkook.”
That you expected. It’s what all the adults in this shitty town say to you. Not like you’d actually listen.
“Anyway,” you breathe, “what am I doing today?”
He licks his thumb and presses it into the corner of a stack of papers, lifting one of the sheets out to hand it to you, wedding band catching a ray of sunlight.
You saunter to his desk and stare at the top of his head, annoyed.
“This is the same quiz from yesterday,” you announce in confusion, holding it up to his face that’s pressed into the calendar.
“Yes, it is. Complete that for me and you can go after.”
You pass him a quizzical look, resisting the urge to stomp your feet like a petulant child because he still won’t look at you.
“Do I need to pass a certain mark or—”
“Just go fill in your answers and I’ll grade it after.”
“Okay,” you huff, pulling out a pen from your backpack and half-heartedly working through the questions. It’s a calculus graph so you don’t really need a calculator.
Namjoon knows he’s digging a hole for himself when he chances a glance at you behind the calendar. Your eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, lip snagged between your teeth as you cross and uncross your legs. The pleats of your skirt sit perfectly on your thighs, shirt tucked in to provide him with the delicious view of your waist. And that pink bra. His favorite on you. You’re beautiful, and you don’t waste time using that to your advantage.
He sees you, with Jungkook, shamelessly making out during the lunchbreaks, eyes open slightly to follow him as he passes the two of you, taunting him. He doesn’t bother to scurry away from your sight, because then, it’s as if you got what you wanted, and he refuses to let that happen. He doesn’t understand the dynamic between you and your boyfriend, but he does know that you love to tease him. Except, at the same time, he doesn’t know either. You’re a woman. And he’s a man with the only thrill in his life being the pretty girl who sits at the back of his math class, enjoying the way he stutters through his discussion whenever she catches his gaze.
He doesn’t let his lascivious thoughts get the best of him. Shaking them away as soon as they pop into his mind. He’s not that guy. Not the guy who would use a student to slake the undying thirst that roars inside of him each time his eyes fall on the curve of your ass, unintentionally. Not the guy who would use the excuse that his wife doesn’t love him like she used to just for a taste of your sweet lips.
Not that guy.
“I’m done, sir,” you smile, springing up from the chair and letting the paper feather in front of him as it slips from your hands, leaning over while you watch him make red markings here and there, mumbling to himself as he goes.
You prop your fist against your cheek, his cologne surrounding you, taking the time to scan every inch of his face. A part of you wishes that you were Miss Cha. Not his wife.
He straightens his shoulders and holds your quiz up to the light, sitting back in the chair that wheels away with the movement.
“You’ve proved my suspicions.”
You pout, “sir?”
He files the quiz away and you walk around the desk to sit in front of him, papers crumpling under your ass. He looks good from any angle, you muse, swinging your legs back and forth, seeing him follow the motion before knitting his fingers together.
“You deliberately write the wrong answers. I’m not dumb,” he states plainly, eyes latched onto yours and for the first time, your gaze lowers to the floor.
“I don’t,” you mumble, unwilling to have this conversation with him.
“Yes,” he taps the file, “you do. Can I ask why?”
With a roll of his chair closer toward you, he reaches up to place a hand on your shoulder. You’re sitting above him now, heart thrumming in your ears when his fingers begin to rub soothing circles on your back.
“Because,” you utter with a whine, “I don’t want to take part in the Olympiads!”
His lips stretch over his teeth into a grin, dazzling you when his smoky chuckle reaches your ears.
“That’s it?”
“Yes,” your head sags between your shoulders, succumbing to the urge to spill everything to him with his deep-set eyes boring into your own, twinkling with the sun, “I don’t want the pressure.”
“You don’t need to take part in the Olympiad, you know? Aren’t you thinking about the future? What will you do later this year when everyone starts filling out their college applications?”
The same questions you’re sick and tired of hearing. But you bite your tongue, because it’s Mr. Kim, you’ve never had a real conversation with him before. The room fills with a golden hue, beating onto his face as his hand slides down to grip your arm tenderly.
“Follow my passion.”
His head cocks to the side playfully, “your passion?”
“Mhm,” you grin, breath catching in your throat when his knee nudges your leg.
It’s too much for you. His eyes, his scent, his smile, his touch. Why did you put yourself in the position? You try to jump off the desk, but he doesn’t give you enough room, hands flying to your hips to hold you in place as your hands lay on his chest. In the middle of it all, the corner of the desk presses into your pussy and you whimper, seeing his eyes go wide with shock.
Your throat feels like it’s closing up, the top of your head to the tips of your toes prickling with want. His eyes fall to your skirt, legs spread open, pink panties exposed to him. It’s as if you’re melting under his caresses, especially when his large palm fits against your cheek, thumb dragging down your lower lip. His hot breath wafts over your face in soft pants, pulling you down to meet him halfway. Your eyes fall shut once his lips slot against yours, a quiet moan tumbling onto his lips as he rocks your hips against the corner of his desk, tongue licking into your mouth when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.
When your hands cup his cheeks, he pulls away with a gasp, eyes going wide.
The tug between your legs builds, head falling forward as you continue to rock against the corner, panties sticking to your folds as your arousal gushes out. In this moment, nothing exists except you, him and the thickening lust between you, head clogged with thoughts of his hands all over you, guiding you to your release. You’re losing yourself in the feeling, grinding down on your clit, tossing your head back with the sensation.
He pulls out your shirt from your skirt greedily, blunt fingernails piercing into your flesh as he commands your movements, half-lidded eyes glued to your face, contorting into pleasure.
“Don’t cum,” he growls, holding you in place as moan after moan spills from your lips, “I said don’t cum.”
“Please, sir,” you whine, squirming in his hold as you fight to reach your high.
Namjoon’s cock strains in his pants, twitching when more pleas fill the air, your pleasing scent rushing through his nostrils.
In one swift movement, he pulls you onto his shoulders, your legs thrown over as he pushes your panties to the side and dives into your glistening pussy, moaning into your heat, devouring your essence in scorching licks.
“Sir—” you babble, gripping onto the backrest of his chair as you jut your hips against his face, crying out as his tongue slides down your folds and into your dripping hole, squeezing around him when his nose presses into your clit.
You attempt to hold back your moans, but it proves to be difficult when he flattens out his tongue and wiggles it against your heat, moving your hips over his face, sucking and drinking you up filthily. The sensation buzzes through you, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he finds the right motion, the right speed, the right spot to have your thighs trembling around him, hands running down to your ass, a heated smack landing on the flesh.
Jolting forward, your pussy clenches against his chin, drenching his face with your juices as the pressure in your abdomen builds, rutting onto his tongue while he drags his tongue up and down your folds lewdly.
A shriek gets thrown from your lungs as you gasp and pant above him, tugging on his short strands of hair when his teeth catch on your engorged clit, fingers massaging the meat on your thighs, one hand snaking between your thighs, two fingers prodding at your entrance.
“Cum for me,” he coaxes, pursing his lips around your clit when his middle and ring finger sink into your heat, curling them inside your pulsating walls and finding your sweet spot with ease, drawing it in and out at breakneck speed.
“I’m cumming. Fuck,” you spasm against his face, coating his tongue as your orgasm ripples through you, rolling your hips into his face to ride out your high.
He hums against your pussy, slurping up every last drop as his voice rumbles through you. With a few kisses to your inner thighs, he helps you off his shoulders.
The sight you’re met with once he sets you down on his lap has a fresh wave of arousal building in your slick cunt. His lips, cheeks and chin glazed with your cum. You press your lips to his in a sloppy kiss, loosening his tie before unbuttoning his shirt and kissing his pecs, heavy cock pressing into your thigh.
“You love this, don’t you? Such a dirty girl for me,” he grunts, smacking your ass twice in quick succession while you’re biting down the column of his throat.
“Please, sir,” you moan, fiddling with his belt, his heady scent going straight to your pussy.
“Please what? Want my cock?” He chuckles darkly, gripping on your wrists and bringing it up to his face.
You shiver when he licks the sensitive skin there, eyes fuming with desire once he gets your panties off your legs and his cock out into the balmy air, sweat illuminated by the fading sunlight. Salivating at the sight of his thick, veiny cock, you mewl as he taps your clit with the leaking tip, lifting you up over his lap.
Watching him reach into his tan bag, he curses as he rummages through to find…a condom, ripping it open hastily and rolling it down his length.
“So fucking ready for my cock. This is what you wanted, hmm?”
“Yes, sir,” you whisper, trying to sink down on his cock but his hold wins against your own.
“Tight little pussy begging to be filled by my fat cock. Bet you’re wet every time you’re sitting there at your desk, waiting for me to call you to the front for something petty.”
“Yes, yes, please,” you cry, pressing your forehead to his once his lowers you onto the tip, groaning as his length disappears into your sopping pussy.
“Fucking shit. So fucking tight.”
The stretch tantalizes every inch of your body, breathless moans rolling off your tongue as he starts to fuck into you with powerful snaps of his hips.
“Fuck, someone might hear us,” he grits out, reaching for your panties that sits on his desk and balling it in his fist. He shoves the material into your parted lips, moans muffled by the fabric as he slams you down onto his cock, grazing your ridged walls.
He throws his head back, bruised lips parted, letting you bounce on his cock while meeting your movements by flexing his hips against yours, the sounds are enough to have his cock twitch, your thighs slapping his with resounding smacks.
Pink panties in your mouth, skirt billowing out around your ass, hair mussed, tears streaking down your flushed cheeks; you look absolutely debauched grinding down on his cock as you please. His balls flare at the sight, your nails raking down his chest as your walls quiver around him, boobs bouncing in its confines. Your eyes are hazy, almost unrecognizable as he fucks you through your high, tipping off the edge while keeping your hips still.
A drawn-out moan rises up his throat as he shoots into the condom. He hasn’t cum this hard in months, years, you carry him through it, your warm walls hugging his length while you bury your face in his neck and pepper kisses across his heated skin, your slick seeping through his pants.
Pulling the panties out of your mouth, he smooths your hair away from your face, sweat coating his hand. You smile at him in your fucked out state, sitting on his right thigh as you encircle your arms around his neck. His throat goes dry, struggling to catch his breath, heart pounding in his chest.
When you hum against his skin, a little too happily, his hands fall from your body, staring up at the ceiling while his cock goes limp at the reality of the situation.
He is that guy.
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a/n — idek what this was but stay tuned for seokjin’s ver ˋˍˊ feedback is appreciated.
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© minyfic 2021 do not copy/repost/translate.
508 notes · View notes
breakiebunny · 2 months ago
Spice| KNJ
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summary: you and your colleague don`t see eye to eye, the room for improvement completely goes out of the window when something happens at work that ruins a major career step of your life.
genre: fluff, angst, smut, chef Namjoon, enemies to lovers.
words: 16.4K
warnings: Astraphobia (fear of thunder and lightening) smut, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving) size kink, flirting, degradation, titty sucking, pet names.
tag: @kookiecrumb​
This was supposed to be posted on Joon`s bday but hey its still september.
It was one of those days when you don’t want to do anything, just lay in bed, watch Netflix and pig out on anything your kitchen offers, preferably cooked but hey who cares. You get up in a particularly grumpy mood this morning, despite being the shitiest morning person, you`re usually quite all right with waking up in the mornings but today was just not cutting it, and to top it all off, you would have to deal Kim Namjoon, your fellow assistant chef and worst nightmare, although he had the same post as you he thought of himself as your boss for some reason. Since day one, he has been nothing but a pain in the ass, annoying and cocky, a know it all, he made it clear that cooking was a hobby of his and this job is just a part of his “Fun hobby.” You enter the grand building through the back door, heading straight for the staff room, changing into your crisp white uniform, maybe cooking will calm you down, it always did and you loved your job, no matter how tiring and demanding it was, you loved every second of it.
“Late again?” you hear the voice of non other than Kim Namjoon, the only thing you hated about your job. You roll your eyes and walk past him, not really wanting to talk to him or just talk in general.
“We really value time here Y/N, maybe you should too.” He says as you reach the door, your grip tightening on the knob, knuckles turning white.
“I would really appreciate if you could please mind your own business and not talk to me, like…at all.” You give him a tight lipped smile and storm outside of the staff room. Today, one of the biggest companies in the country chose your hotel to host their annual company lunch, you wanted it to be perfect, staff was gathering in the hall for a meeting with the executive chef Kim Seokjin, one of the country`s finest chefs.
“Everyone, I`m glad to announce Min Enterprises has chosen Black Lagoon for their annual company lunch, I am confident that we will be able to pull this off like a piece of cake, team work makes the dream work, any questions?” Seokjin claps.
“Chef, is there a special menu or any specific instructions we need to follow?” You ask your notepad ready.
“No, Mr. Min has not informed us of a specific menu so the menu will be what we have already, just make sure everything is in order and gets served to every head on time.” Seokjin tells you.
“If he had something special to tell you, he would’ve told you without you asking.” You hear Namjoon snicker and you feel your blood pressure shooting up a little, but you can`t afford to be mad or lose control, not today, so you decide to glare at him.
“This means I want my best chefs to work extra carefully and in harmony, is that understood?” Jin says and everyone in the room knows who he is talking about, let`s just say you and Namjoon have the reputation of causing a little disturbance.
“Absolutely! But I think you should talk to someone else here chef, who is a little C word.” Namjoon whisper shouts towards Seokjin and he looks at you. This man was getting despicable with each passing day and you were not ready to lose your job and catch a case for seriously injuring him. The broth of hate that bubbles inside you even when Namjoon breathes is not without a reason, you loved your post but you could’ve been the executive chef right now if it wasn’t for him, it was seven months ago, when the Black Lagoon was selected to hold the finest dinner for the government officials. The special guest being a foreign secretary, the staff was buzzing with nerves and so were you, special events were always exciting and a great chance to prove yourself.
“You have shown great potential for what it takes to be the executive chef for our hotel” Hoseok looks at you with a nod. “I`m not saying that we`ll be evaluating you all based on your performance today but that`s exactly what I`m saying.” Hoseok, the hotel manager says, his smile blinding and so was his hint. You grin, determined in your heart that you will get promoted no matter what because you are the best chef here, you will be the executive chef no matter what. The dinner starts in like an hour and you fall behind your schedule because of a mistake Jungkook, the rookie in your kitchen made.
“I messed up chef, I`m so so sorry.” He`s on the verge of tears as you examine the ruined sauce in the pot.
“No, hey it`s fine, look at me, no time to panic, we`ll fix it, let me help you.” Your voice determined. Jungkook sniffles and nods. You still had to scale the angelfish and take out each and every bone, it was the main course today. Your hands shake a little at the thought of messing this night up.
“Chef, you can go help him, I will get the fish ready.” You hear Namjoon offer with a reassuring hand on your shoulder.
“You sure?” you ask in a hurry, not wanting to waste any time further.
“Yes, go, we don’t have time.” He ushers you and you jog over to the sauce station with Jungkook. This sauce had no hope left for it, so make a new one on the spot, which takes about twenty minutes.
“Stir, don’t stop and turn off the heat after five minutes exact! No covering the pot.” You instruct Jungkook.
“Yes chef!” he bellows and you jog over to your station, the fish already placed there, clean and ready to cook, you start your work, happy that everything went perfectly fine even if there was a little accident, thankfully it was handled on time. The dinner got served and you were in the staff room, exhausted but happy with today, you were absolutely sure that today was the day your dreams come true. You were done for the day so you decide to change into your clothes but then someone knocks on the door.
“Y/N, Manager Jung is calling you.” You see Jihyo`s head popping from the door, she was pale and her voice shaked as she spoke making the smile fall from your lips.
“What happened? Is everything okay?” you shoot up from the bench and go to her. She was pale and her hands were cold as ice when you hold them.
“The fish Y/n, it had a bone.” She whispers horrified and you feel as if someone kicked you in the stomach, the sinking feeling burning your insides, a mistake like this can damage the reputation of the hotel and a mistake like this on a special night like this can absolutely ruin the name which was made after decades of hard work by the founders of the hotel.
“Bone? It can`t be.” Your voice betrays you, her words finally settling in.
“I don’t know Y/n, there was a bone and now Mr. Jung wants to see you.” Jihyo`s eyes were glistening at this point. You don’t say another word and head to the manager`s office. The door opens and you are met with a very disappointed Hoseok, the guest was nice enough to laugh the situation off but that little accident meant no executive position for you, not this year at least if you are lucky and that`s how Jin became your superior. You get out of the office with tears in your eyes, all your hard work, your dreams and ambitions were crushed and it was all because you trusted Namjoon. You sniffle, your tears now uncontrollable. The hallways empty because tonight the hotel was reserved for the special event only.
“Y/N, I`m sorry…I know…” you hear Namjoon behind you and your blood boils at the sound, without  thinking you grab the fresh tulip decoration vase from the table and throw it at him, he dodges it quickly causing the vase to hit a wall behind him, the water from the flowers sprinkling on him a little, the beautiful flowers laying on the ground among the thousand tiny fragments of glass.
“Hey!” Namjoon yelps.
“Why would you do this to me?” your voice comes out in a whisper.
“I didn’t do it on purpose Y/N, I`m sorry.” He tries to take a step close to you but you back away.
“Sorry? A tiny little bone has called me incompetent Namjoon! Do you even know how hard I worked for this night? And you!” the storm inside you was finally breaking free, Namjoon standing with his eyes low, he knew he messed up but it was not on purpose, why would he do such a thing to you? You didn’t deserve it.
“You ruined everything, my dream, a major career step, you ruined it all for me.” Your energy levels back to your feet as you mumble, tears running down your cheeks like a stream.
“I`m so sorry Y/N, Please…” Namjoon`s voice shakes.
“I don’t want to listen to anything Namjoon but please never ever talk to me again, we don’t exist for each other anymore.” You wipe your tears and storm past him, leaving the poor boy disheveled and absolutely distraught. It was a huge deal for you and Namjoon knew that by now, he felt terrible that you almost lost your job and promotion because of him because he offered to help you and he had no other intention, he was careful too but he can`t understand how the bone got left in the fish.
This was the start of your distaste for Namjoon, you couldn’t care less about whether he did it on purpose or not, the point was he did it, you trusted him with your special night and he shredded that trust into pieces, maybe you were being immature but you don’t care because he was not the one who worked extra hours and weekends to add to your credit while he was out with the rest drinking the night away, he didn’t have a little sister who wanted money to go to college, your promotion meant a bonus and a pay raise and he took it from you.
Everything was going well, the heads had already ordered, everything was in order and on schedule.
“Chef, Mr. Min`s girlfriend ordered something we don’t have on our menu tonight, sea food special.” The waiter comes in looking a little worried. “And some others would also like to try it, she is a fan of our sea food specials.” He completes.
“Y/n, Namjoon, get on it ASAP!” you hear Jin yell out and you stride towards the little note that hung on the counter, snatching it you see “Tasmanian salmon fillet with dutch carrot puree.”
“This bitch, how hard is it choose from a menu you already have?” you mutter as Namjoon appears next to you.
“Okay, let`s go, salmon, fillet cut, skin on.” You announce as you get carrots, ready to chop them off. The night went off with you and Namjoon preparing more Tasmanian salmon fillets and carrot puree than your actual menu, everyone fell in love with the light and refreshing dish, maybe that`s what the hot shots of the city needed after a busy week, something easy on the tummy as they wine and dine, complimenting the chef or in this case chefs. The night was a huge success, it was your major dinner night after the incident seven months ago and this one made you a star, the staff were really happy as they congratulated you two for saving the night, sea food specials are not prepared or even prepped for on the normal evenings so it was hard getting it ready on a very small notice and the staff were the people who witnessed you losing confidence in yourself that night and basically a mess, so watching you get back in your element was quite a sight for them. You all decided to celebrate the night in the staff room with peanuts and lots and lots of soju.
“We make a really good team, don’t you think?” Namjoon says, the dimple popping in his cheek.
“I wouldn’t say that, we just work well together.” You shrug, your mood so much better than it was in the morning.
“Um, isn’t that the same thing dumbo?” Namjoon chuckles and you roll your eyes, ready to turn away.
“Hey, is this any way of treating your lovely partner? Come on let`s drink.” He drags you over to the soju table, his force not even letting you speak. You watch him pour two shots, handing you one.
“TO US!” he shouts and you cringe.
“Come on say it, you know we saved the night, together.” He smirks and you deflate, he was right, you two did it together and you couldn’t deny the fact Namjoon was one of the best chefs you had the chance to work with.
“To us.” You clink your shot with his, a small smile on your face which puts a grin on Namjoon`s as he downs the shot, watching you do the same. In an hour, almost everyone is drunk out of their asses, thank god there was no work tomorrow or no one would be able to come with that kind of hangover. You were a little tipsy, so was Namjoon, he was trying to make a small talk with you all night to which you replied with equally awkward answers, at the end of conversation both of you ended up sitting against a wall.
“Y/N, you need a ride, I called an uber, isn’t your sister alone?” Jihyo slurs a little.
“No, I`m fine, she left for college yesterday remember?” you remind her and her mouth open in a shape of o as she remembers what you told her yesterday. Your little sister finally went to college, it took you and her to work overtime, you even worked an extra job to pay her admission fee but it was all worth it, she was happy and so were you, you helped her put her life on a track and you hope she gets the hang of it as she goes further. Jihyo nods and heads out with some others so you don’t have to worry about her getting home safe, Jungkook was not big drinker, he was sober.
“Be safe y`all.” You yell after them.
“We will, are you okay Y/N Noona?” you see Jungkook`s cute little head peaking through the door.
“Yes I`ll be fine Jungkook, thank you” you smile at him which he returns with equal warmth.
“This kid has the biggest crush on you.” Namjoon scoffs as soon as Jungkook head disappears.
“What? No.” you can`t help but correct him.
“Yes he does, why else does he look so troubled leaving you alone like that and to be honest it`s not even that, he`s just always on your tail like some duckling.” He laughs lazily, definitely a little tipsy.
“That`s because he`s my junior and right now he saw me with you, we don’t exactly…hang out…you know.” You try to put it out for him in the nicest way possible and you think you succeeded.
“Hm could be, but darling trust me I know how men work.” He leans in a little closer, hot breath brushing against your clothed shoulder and the skin of neck, you are affected by it, your breathing picking up and you blame the soju.
“Yeah maybe but he`s not like that, he`s a nice kid, nothing like men.” You say the last line eyeing him up and down.
“Why, you`re a pretty lady, I would love to look at you a certain way, hey! In my defense I have eyes.” He smirks, his dragon eyes looking coy, a stark contrast to his cocky demeanor right now.
“You`re talking too much tonight aren’t you Namjoon?” you chuckle. “Didn’t know you were a lightweight”
“You haven’t really gotten the chance to know me baby.” He whispers against your ear, plump lips almost touching the sensitive skin of your ear, your entire being lights up with goosebumps.
“And I`d like to keep it that way.” You manage to say that to his face without squeaking and you mentally high five yourself for that, this guy was definitely attractive and confident about it too, and in your defense just like he had said, you had eyes, it was impossible to say that you didn’t find him handsome, his tall, thick, well built frame was enough to send you in a frenzy and the amount of soju in your system was not helping at all.
“You have a sister?” he asks out of the blue, breaking you out of your daze, voice soft as compared to his usual gruff and deep one. He backs away resting his head on the wall you two were sitting against, his body still close enough to radiate its comforting warmth on yours.
“Yeah why?” you find yourself replying, there was no way you could’ve spent this much time with him sober, you kinda thank the soju.
“Nothing really, just asking.” He shrugs, so that`s what you meant when you yelled at him not understanding responsibilities seven months, honestly he`s not gonna lie he thought you were being a little over dramatic, it was a mistake, it can happen we all are human beings but now, Namjoon felt sorry for thinking that way, that night had to go well for you to get promoted, for you to take care of your sister. Now that she`s in college, he wonders, how you managed to do all of that by yourself? The sense of respect he was suddenly feeling towards you was strong enough to tackle you in a hug or beg for your forgiveness on his knees but he stays glued to the ground, head still against the wall.
“I`m sorry Y/N” he whispers so quiet you almost miss it.
“Huh?” you respond, the silence was comfortable enough to make you sleepy, Namjoon`s warm presence also helping.
“For what happened that night, I never did it on purpose, I…I made a mistake that cost you so much, you are an ambitious woman, this matters to you so much I can tell, you`re not an idiot like me working here just to prove a stupid point to my parents.” He turns towards you and you do the same, his head hanging low, knees brushing against yours.
“You know what? It`s okay.” you say with a smile, a huge stone that was weighing down on your heart all this time lifting up instantly, Namjoon`s eyes shoot up to meet your drunk ones.
“Oh god, this is not a good time, you`re smashed.” He looks at you like you were some alien.
“No, I hope not, I hear you loud and clear, yes you are an idiot and yes I forgive you, I...have been too hard on you Namjoon really, you offered to help me out of the goodness of your heart, that mistake was just meant to happen, it did and everything worked out just fine for me, I`m happy now and I don’t want hold a grudge, it`s tiring to be honest.” You pat his shoulder and his eyes widen as saucers at that, he couldn’t believe his ears, he didn’t picture this going too well for him really, he was waiting for everyone to leave tonight so that he can apologize to you properly, he had prepared himself, his ears and his ego to take your blows and insults like a champ and maybe some chairs thrown at him, he was ready for it all but what was happening right now, at this very moment was way out of the scope of his imagination. You actually listened to him, talked to him and most important of all forgave him.
“Are you sure you`re okay?” he asks, his huge hand landing on your forehead to check your temperature, you bat it away.
“What do you mean? Did you want me to flog you or something?” you laugh, head thrown back against the wall, Namjoon gulps at the way the thin silver chain shine on your smooth skin, he noticed it for the first time and he didn’t ever want to forget it.
“No but if that`s what you`re into, I can find a way around that, I don't judge.” He smirks, eyebrows cocked suggestively and you hit his chest with the back of your hand.
“Don’t make me regret forgiving you.” You roll your eyes and he laughs, voice a little squeaky from the rough liquid and salty peanuts.
“No but really, I`m sorry for making you feel like shit for helping me, you were trying to be nice and I just went off on you, it was stupid now that I think back about it. Everyone should be allowed to make mistakes you know, I`m dumb sometimes but I was scared, hope you understand.” You don’t look him in the eyes, hands playing with a stray peanut on the floor.
“I get it” he whispers. “Wow that`s a relief really! You are so cool and I didn’t want to keep fighting with you. Friends?” he grins, his cute dimples popping again as he extends his hand for you to take.
“I wouldn’t go that far, no.” you smirk.
“Okay fine” he rolls his eyes. “Decent colleagues who don’t want to kill each other on sight, especially this one.” He points at you, eyes squinting in mischief.
“Yes, that`s so much better.” You giggle, taking his soft hand in yours, his long fingers wrapped around the entirety of your smaller one, you gulp when he squeezes your hand in his hoping he doesn’t notice.
“Okay, I think I`ll head out now.” You tell him already getting ready to stand up.
“Want me to come with?” he asks softly, his hand still holding yours, thumb rubbing circles on the base of your thumb but you don’t pay it any mind.
“N-no, I don’t live that far away actually, I`ll be fine, thank you.” You smile, pulling your hand out of his soft yet firm grasp, your skin already missing the feeling.
“Oh okay, good night then.” Namjoon clears his throat as you stand up to get your coat and bag, you turn around to see him trying to lay down on the little bench, it was definitely not for getting comfortable and definitely not for him, his tall frame spilling out of the small space, he looked crumpled up on it.
“Namjoon, aren’t you going home?” you can`t help but ask.
“Uh no, it`s a long story but I`ve been crashing at my friend Yoongi`s house for a while now but his parents are visiting tonight and they`ll be spending the night so I have nowhere to go.” He sits up, eyes not meeting yours, you can tell he felt a little uncomfortable sharing this information with you so you decide not to push him further and just nod.
“Oh, but you can`t sleep here Namjoon, you`ll end up folded like an origami if you maintain that previous position.” You chuckle and he laughs, pearly whites on display.
“Yeah  but…” he shrugs.
“You can come to mine.” You blurt out and Namjoon chokes on his spit, controlling himself at once.
“If you want to of course, you just don’t seem comfortable here, I`m sorry if I…” you ramble and he laughs.
“Sweetheart you don’t have to be sorry for taking me back to your place.” He smirks and you feel your cheeks getting hot at his words.
“You know what forget it, you and your giant ass can sleep here.” You huff putting on your coat making Namjoon laugh on your cutely scrunched up nose.
“Hey hey Y/N wait” he rushes to you as you turn towards the door, a huge hand closing on your forearm, shooting beams of electricity through your entire arm, his hand felt warm even over the thick fabric of your coat and you sigh. “I was just joking, thank you so much for the offer and I would like to accept it, if you are really okay with it?” he says softly, the proximity of his voice indicating that he is just behind your back his face almost brushing against the softness of your hair.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t mean it.” You almost whisper and he smiles, of course you wouldn’t. The tough and bossy y/n why would you offer him such a thing without meaning it? He felt giddy at the thought of you caring for him and well... his back.
“Let me grab my duffel.” He gives both of your forearms a gentle squeeze that squeezes the breath out of you and hold onto the door for support, thankful that your face was not facing him, wherever this was going it screamed “Trouble” in all caps, red in color and the letters flashing. You walk out of the door not even after ten seconds, Namjoon strides to appear next to you.
“Do we have to take a cab or something?” Namjoon asks shoving his hands in his coat pocket.
“If you want to, but I always walk home, it’s not that far.” You look up at him.
“Okay, let`s walk.” He shrugs.
The walk comprised of Namjoon asking “How far?” and you mentally thanked the lord when you reached your door.
“Phew, I`m dead, can`t feel my legs.” He pants dramatically, hands on his knees as bends and you can`t believe your eyes, a six foot tall guy, well built too is unfit for a walk like this? Or maybe he`s just acting.
“Are you kidding me right now?” you laugh, still looking at him in disbelief.
“Was this your plan little lady?” he straightens up to his full height, the dramatic breathing came to a halt and a rather cocky expression adorning his beautiful face.
“Huh?” you blurt out finding your keys in your bag and opening the door, Namjoon behind you.
“Walk me all the way here and then murder me in your house?” he says casually and you laugh, the guy sure is funny or maybe he was serious.
“Yeah Namjoon cause I haven’t watched a single episode of criminal minds.” You snort and the corners of his mouth turn up.
“And I think I should be the scared one here, you can easily yeet me to another dimension.” Your eyes narrow as you shrug off your coat. “Or are you telling me that you can`t handle a little lady like myself?” you smirk, eyes not leaving his. You were never the one for intense eye contact, it made your skin crawl but Namjoon`s eyes were so mesmerizing, you couldn’t look away even when your soul caught fire every time you met his eyes.
“Oh I can handle you all you want alright.” he says, voice deeper than usual, eyes intense than his usual googly ones and your heart skips a beat or ten as you try to maintain your composure quietly.
“Sleep, you`re talking more non sense than usual.” You try to brush the sting between your legs coolly like you always do, pretending things don’t have an effect on you like a normal human being. Your brows furrow when you see walk towards the couch in your living room.
“Namjoon, if I wanted you to sleep on a something like my couch, I would’ve left you back at the hotel.” You pinch the bridge of your nose.
“Want me in your bed already sweets? How about we save that for the second date?” Namjoon looks so proud of his little joke, you can`t help the way your stomach erupts in butterflies, the corners of your mouth turning upwards, having a mind of their own.
“No hotshot, you can sleep in my sister`s room, it`s all empty anyways but there`s a bed and that`s what matters.” You point to the door behind you, not sure how long can you last under his drunk gaze, you were not drunk and he was not as well, you could tell but why was he flirting with you? Or were you getting ahead of yourself? The know it all, cocky, almost assholish Kim Namjoon can`t be flirting with you.
“Of course, a good bed does matter.” He snorts, long fingers come up to brush against his chin delicately almost in an attempt to control his bubbling laughter.
“Seriously how old are you?” you rub your eyes with the heels of your palms, the rub satisfying but it was mostly to hide your blushing face.
“Old enough to make you…” Namjoon starts as you point a finger in his direction making him stop instantly.
“I dare you to complete that sentence Kim Namjoon and then watch me as I throw water on you and then kick you out of my house to freeze your ass on the streets, where you belong by the way, absolutely filthy, what happened to you?” you scrunch your face up in disgust pretending to be disgusted by his forwardness tonight but every atom of your being was on fire just from his careless words and how he delivered them.
“And you were never so judgy, what happened to you?” he pouts and you feel yourself melt, maybe you were drunk cause why else would want to squish Namjoon`s cheeks together right now. You were definitely drunk but the thing is…you were not.
“You don’t know me Joonie.” You sing song as you turn towards your room, realizing the slip of your tongue as you walk, joonie something almost everyone in the staff call him, you squeeze your eyes shut hoping he doesn’t point it out and tease you about it for the half an hour and punch the air mentally when he doesn’t, maybe he`s too sleepy to respond, he was not, you calling him joonie made his heart do a cartwheel, he was glued to the ground, heart beating fast and an unusual fondness took over his senses for the pet name he never really cared for, it sounded special in your voice, your soft and magical voice. He wants to hear it again in more than one ways and he was almost scared admitting that to himself.
You wake up with a light headache, nothing draining just a light pang and you were thankful for it. The weather outside looking gloomy, it`ll rain probably.You head to the kitchen to get something to feed your growling stomach as well as a much needed painkiller before this pang escalates into something horrible. You jump when you see hear some shuffling in the kitchen, mind at ease when you remember the events of last night and how Namjoon ended up at your place, after admitting that you don’t want to hold any grudge against him when all he did was to help you was life changing to the point that even your sober mind didn’t mind Namjoon`s presence in your house.
“Good morning.” You mumble, all your movements coming to a halt when you see Namjoon stuffing frosted cereal into his mouth, his cheeks full, eyes wide as he stops mid munch.
“Good morning” he says with his mouth full, crunching down on the crunchy sweetness rapidly to swallow.
“Just needed uh…something sweet.” He scratches the back of his neck.
“Oh it`s fine, I`m not going to kick you out to starve Namjoon, help yourself with anything, want coffee?” you walk over to your trusty coffee machine, turning to ask him if he wants some.
“Uh yeah sure.” He replies softly, god his morning voice almost wasn’t comprehensible because of how deep it was making you clutch the mug in your hand until your knuckles turned white. You don’t know how the extra mugs got far up the top shelf, maybe it was your sister, she organized and basically cooked for the two of you at home. Namjoon watches you struggle on your tip toes, your face concentrated in the most cute way, the long shorts blessing his eyes with the smoothness of your legs, he looks away, gulping and not wanting to come off as a creep.
“Let me get it.” He announces.
“No…I…almost got.” Your breath hitches when you feel Namjoon`s hard chest press into your back for a brief moment, his hand brushing over yours that was desperately trying to reach the top shelf, you recoil your hand at the contact and watch him place the mug on the counter in front of you. You expect him to move but he doesn’t, standing so close to you, you can feel the heat radiating from his chest seeping into your back.
“What shampoo do you use?” he husks behind you and you flinch at how close his voice is to your ear, hot puffs of air indicating he leaned down to your height. You hear him inhale and you swear you heart strings were being pulled by the drag of his nose.
“It`s a…um dollar store shampoo.” You manage to squeak, your voice coming out nothing like you wanted it to.
“What flavor?” you don’t miss the way he pushes you a little further against the counter, the movement so delicate you almost miss it because of how overwhelmed you are at the idea of being pressed against your kitchen counter by this hunk of a man.
“P-peonies.” Your voice almost sounds like a whine and you want to drown right here right now. He chuckles, a deep and thick sound that vibrates in his chest and you feel the effects of it on your back.
“Of course, pretty scent on a pretty little lady.” He takes another whiff of your hair and then backs away, going back to his stool like he didn’t just almost squish the life out of you. You hate how you are so affected by this like a teenager who first held hands with a boy or stood close to one for the first time.
“You can take one if you like it so much, it was a gift pack and you are making yourself at home anyways so a shampoo bottle is no big deal.” You manage to speak without your voice cracking, trying desperately to let him know what a badass you are but you are so sure he sees right through you with those gorgeous dragon eyes.
“Nah, I like it better on you, I`ll make sure to smell you often though.” He says with a straight face, hands going in to the cereal box again and you can`t help but let out a wild laugh, the sound so soothing to Namjoon`s ears, his eyes crinkle at the sight of you folding in a laughing fit.
“That sounded weird right?” he mumbles, mouth stuffed with cereal again.
“A little.” Your face was burning partially from the laugh and a lot from his actions. When did the two of you get to the point of making jokes in your kitchen?  “But don’t worry, I`m sure you`ll say something to top it, this will not go down as the weirdest thing you`ve ever said.” You giggle, shaking your head as you turn again to make coffee.
“I hope you`re not right.” He laughs as the thunder rumbles making you jump with a yelp, your feet padding towards him in a hurry, eyes blown out.
“Hey hey, it`s okay sweetheart, it`s just some angry clouds.” His hand comes up to rub your back as you stand next to him, hands curled into fists on your chest, your wild heart calming down because of his soothing rubs on your back.
“I don’t like it when clouds are angry.” You whimper when the lightning flashes again, growling in anger from the sky.
“But we don’t care if they`re angry, we don’t give a damn, we`re just gonna watch a movie and let them be angry, we don’t give a fuck.” Namjoon coos, his warm hands easing the tension in your back.
“We don’t?” you are on the verge of tears at this point, another loud rumble makes you jump.
“Not a single fuck given, we don’t care, say it with me.” He makes you face him.
“We don’t…care.” You whisper, eyes shut.
“Good, good, we don’t care.” He repeats in hopes for you to do the same, motioning his free hand up and down on his chest telling you to breath in and out with him.
“We don`t care.” You breath with the movement of his hand, you were in a really good state right now, usually it was you crying in your sister`s lap or crying yourself to sleep during thunderstorms but this was nice, you didn’t cry, not a single tear. You felt safe for some reason. This huge teddy bear of a man providing you all the comfort you need at your vulnerable state. A part of you expected him to laugh at you about it, telling you how ridiculous it is for a grown woman to be scared of lightening like most people think but he proved you wrong with how well he handled this situation.
“Wanna watch a movie hm?” he dips his head low to look at you in the eyes, you nod timidly.
You two walk towards the living room, you watch him turn on the tv.
“Pick something.” He flashes you a dimpled smile and you take the remote from his hand, your hands tremble when you watch him go away from you.
“You…y-ou are not leaving right? It`s…raining a-anyways.” Your nerves heighten making you stutter, you feel the hair on the back of your stand.
“You are not getting rid of me anytime soon doll, I`m just getting a blanket, there`s one in your sister`s room.” He smiles so warmly, you feel your heart growing at the new pet name but decide to act as if it didn’t bother you, the cocky Namjoon was gone and in his place he left this angelic teddy bear, you just wanted to cuddle him so bad but that would be weird, he`d definitely be weirded out. You see him coming back with the baby blue blanket, he opens it up, covering you with it first.
“Thank you.” You smile, which he returns with a dazzling one of his own, the dimples catching your eyes more today, you wanted to poke them every time he spoke, just softly run your finger on the beautiful dent. You didn’t know all it took was just telling him that you don’t really blame him for what happened that night, was he always like this? And you were the cocky bitch? The assholish one? Everyone loves Namjoon so maybe it was you who had a stick up her ass around him, to be honest, he always tried to make small talk with you but you dismissed him every time and rather rudely but you were thankful for last night, who knew handling things like grownups can have its perks. You were experiencing one of those said perks in the form of being able to get to know Namjoon.
“You wanna watch something special?” he asks you.
“No, anything is fine.” Your voice was back, heart a lot better.
“Brooklyn nine nine?” he asks and your ears perk up. Your absolute favorite show. He notices the spark in your eyes at his suggestion.
“I`m guessing you like it.” He chuckles as his hands work on the remote to put on the show.
“I love it Namjoon!” you squeal, his eyes travel back to yours, a fond smile adorning his beautiful full lips as he watches you smile. Even though it was raining outside, he felt as if the sun was rising right in front of his eyes. You were so beautiful; he was feeling so lucky almost privileged to be able to spend time with you like this, considering your only friend was Jihyo at work. You two watch almost the whole season, laughing throughout, you were so glad Namjoon chose this show; it never failed to make you laugh. Namjoon notices the way the blanket keeps slipping off of you because you offered him a big part of it, him being three times bigger, it is not very benefitting for you, even he laughs a little, the blanket slips from you, you don’t notice of course, he can tell you don`t pay it mind so that it doesn’t make him uncomfortable.
“You know they call me the serial cuddler.” His eyes are lazy when he looks over at you, your cheeks flushed from how much you are laughing.
“I`m sure no one calls you that joon.” You giggle, biting your tongue as you press your lips together, calling him joon or joonie felt so intimate and you don’t want to scare him. What you had going on was so precious for this. Namjoon`s heart skips a beat again, he feels heat creeping up to his chest at your soft voice calling him joon, he pushes the thoughts of how different tones and notes would sound when you`ll sing this nick name? he has to physically shake his head to clear his mind of this horny daze, but he can`t help it, he`s been eyeing you ever since he started working with you eight months ago. You were just like you are right now to him for a whole month, nice and friendly, in fact you were his guide to the hotel kitchen and grounds as well, he had a really good time that day until he messed up, the mistake costing him your blooming friendship and maybe the mother of his children. He really liked how feisty you are at work, you take no shit and a brilliant chef, the night he saw you crying, he couldn’t sleep for a whole week. He felt guilty of making someone so strong break down in front of him. You looked so distraught it made his heart ache and this right here, right now, was the moment he wanted to have with you since the day he layed his eyes on you. It was hard to break your walls, the bone incident acting like a permanent adhesive on these walls, but he was happy he was able to break some of them, he was already seeing the dazzling sunlight beam through that was your smile.
“Why don’t you find out? I don’t like to blow my own trumpet.” He rolls his eyes dramatically, arms wide open.
“Really? Cause I`m a sucker for cuddles and if I cuddle you I will for sure turn into a leech that you 100% can`t shake off.” You warn him, your eyes narrowed.
“I don’t think I`d want to shake this pretty leech of me, I like small and cute things.” He smirks, eyes mischievous again.
“Should I be offended at the fact you called me a leech and small?” you roll your eyes.
“I didn’t call you a leech to be fair, you did, two, you are small and I`m not talking it back, three, I also called you cute but of course you don’t notice that.” He raises his eyebrows at you and you look down at your hands.
“Still, you called me a leech and small.” You mumble and he chuckles.
“My arms are numb here darling.” He huffs a small laugh and your eyes shoot up to him, not even realizing he had his arms spread out, open for you to cuddle him. You rush towards his side before stopping.
“Is this…okay?” you hesitate, your hand hovering near his abdomen, ready to snake its way for a good cuddle, or just support your weight on his side.
“Yup, I`m fine if you are.” He shrugs coolly and you realize how stupid you must have sound, two adults can cuddle without making a big deal out of it right, there`s no need to read between the lines here missy, you remind yourself. You slither close to him like some moody house cat desperate for attention but would never ask for it. You cheek is pressed against his hard yet soft chest and you melt instantly at the warmth, he taps your shoulder with his hand, testing waters before wrapping his arm around your shoulder, an action so intimate yet so harmless, his thumb occasionally rubbing on the round of your shoulder and you mentally praise yourself for wearing a shirt that covers the skin of your shoulder. You feel the vibrations from his chest every time he laughs on a joke some character makes on the show, the thunder rumbles after a long time and a small sound slip pass your lips.
“Sssh, it`s okay.” he whispers, lips ghosting your temple as he rubs your shoulder. You can`t pin point the time you fell asleep, the thunder no longer making scared shitless.
You wake up with Namjoon`s phone ringing, sitting up as you rub your eyes.
“Oh shit, sorry to wake you up.” Namjoon clenches his teeth.
“Oh no it`s fine, I`ve slept well, you should straighten up as well.” You yawn, it was perfect nap, dare you say the best one you think you ever had. Your ex was not a big cuddler, he would always wake you up because his arm was asleep. Wait? Why are you comparing Namjoon to your ex? You just realized one thing, a day off is not for you. Your gutter of a brain needs to be occupied with work 24/7 in order for you to stay sane.
“Uh yeah okay, hm, yeah yeah no problem man.” You hear Namjoon say in the kitchen, you throw your head back; it shoots up when you hear Namjoon plopping down on the couch next to you.
“Everything alright?” you ask when you see His eyebrows furrowed together.
“Yeah…no actually, Yoongi`s parents decided to stay longer, so…I have nowhere to go.” He looks down at his hands.
“It`s okay, you can stay here and when his parents go back, you can go back too.” You tell him casually.
“No y/n, I can`t thank you enough for your offer last night, but I really don’t want to be a trouble.” He raises his hands shaking them furiously, his ears turning a shade of light pink.
“Trouble? That you are whether you try or not” you tease and he pouts.
“And I thought we were friends now.” His pout deepens and you giggle.
“Uh uh not friends, what was it again?” you try to remember what he had said last night in the staff room.
. “Decent colleagues who don’t want to kill each other on sight?” he plays like a tape recorder.
“Yes that`s the one.” You grin, a smile breaking on his nervous face.
“I have a spare room Namjoon, I`m okay with it if you are.” You don’t know why you shove his shoulder with yours but you do, he holds your hand instead, squeezing it in his.
“Thank you so much y/n, you`re a life saver.” He thumb rubs your palm, the sensation numbing your entire hand.
“Hey what are decent colleagues who don’t want to kill each on sight for?” you giggle, a nervous sound but you are relieved when he laughs with you. “Yeah” he grins, dimples popping deep into his soft cheeks.
It`s been a week since Namjoon “Moved in” with you, you say this because Yoongi`s parents left after three days but that didn’t stop Namjoon from coming back with you to your house for a movie, he even made you dinner telling you that as a chef he cannot let you indulge in junk, he`ll make you a homemade dinner to which you were utterly and completely thankful, he really did have a gift for cooking and you were lucky to have experience his cooking first hand, especially when he cooks, brows furrowed together, biceps bulging from the half sleeves of his tee shirt, you feel hot even after a shower when he`s around, your heart never seems to catch a break, he was growing on you in the best way possible, his subtle flirting and suggestive puns were making you giggle instead of angry and you knew it was not gonna end well, someone like Namjoon deserves someone like him, you were not gonna try and deny that, he was smart, outgoing, life of the party, smooth talker and just gorgeous all around, you on the other hand were nothing like him, you were awkward, not very smart cue the bone incident you were scared but there was no need to lash out on someone who meant nothing but good with their intentions, a close book, people were never your thing jihyo was probably your only friend and she too has hardly been in your house, you don’t really understand why he was so nice to you and every time he brought you coffee at work and made you dinner, you can`t help but feel the pang of guilt poke your heart, you can`t help but feel what a big bitch you are for treating him this way.
“Y/N, are you listening?” Namjoon`s mellow voice jerks you out to the real world.
“Uh yes yes.” You look at him and then back to your plate, tonight`s dinner: shrimp alfredo still untouched, the shrimp pieces gathered in one place, you did it while in your little trance.
“I said I can whip up something else for you if you don’t feel the alfredo tonight.” He repeats what he had said and you missed.
“Oh no no, I love it, thank you so much joonie.” You shove a fork full inside your mouth, as usual it was bussin, you don’t know what else to say, the taste melting in your mouth effortlessly.
“I love it when you call me joonie.” He looks down in his plate.
“Everyone calls you joonie, joonie.” You gulp down some wine.
“Yes, but I love it when you call me that.” He challenges, this time eyes not leaving yours as he sips on his wine.
“Noted.” You raise you glass to him and he clinks it with soft smile.
“Can I crash here?” he asks after a few moments.
“Why do you even ask now?” you chuckle.
“Oh shut up, you love me.” He smirks, pouring some more wine in your glass.
I do, that`s what you wanted to say, you don’t even if it`s true but one thing was for sure, you loved when he stayed over, you loved every second you got to spend with him and you were thankful you never had to work an excuse to make him stay, he did it all by himself, making you punching the air in your room when you realize he`s snoring loudly in the room next to yours.
“I hate you, absolutely loathe you.” The corners of your mouth turning upwards let him know that it’s far from the truth, Namjoon will not test his luck and say you loved him but one thing was for sure, the wall you were hiding behind from him, he had managed to bulldoze through it, ready to leap on your tender heart.
“Oh honey, but I love you.” He winks at you, and you can`t help but squeeze your thighs together under the table, his words sending pulses to your heart and his wink sending heat to your core, you were in trouble, big trouble for sure.
“So is your house being my renovated or something or do you love me and Yoongi a little too much?” you chuckle taking a swig of the red and sweet liquid but your smile drops when you see your question swiped Namjoon`s dazzling one off his face.
“My father gave me my apartment on my birthday.” He whispers, wine swirling in his glass.
“I don’t want to live in it, I can`t…” he looks so sad all of a sudden, his cute dimples nowhere in sight.
“Namjoon, you don’t have to tell me anything, I love when you stay over, please don’t misunderstand, sorry I asked.” You reach for his hand, your fingers closing around his, your thumb rubbing over the backs of his four fingers.
“I know buttercup, but I want someone to listen to me, can you listen to me please, I can`t hold it all in anymore.” He pleads, his hand was turning cold, his eyes were glassy, you could tell whatever the situation was, it was eating at his heart. You feel hurt at the sight of him getting hurt, you lace your fingers with his.
“Of course I`ll listen joon.” You squeeze his hand and feel him visibly relax.
“You want to get more comfortable for this? Cuddle maybe Mr. serial cuddler?” you ask him softly, your soft voice was honey dripping down his ears and senses.
“Mhmm.” He nods sniffling, he looks so cute right now you stop yourself from cooing out loud.
“Wait for me in the living room, I`ll put these out and make your favorite chamomile tea, it`ll make you feel better.” You rub the round of his shoulder and he nods with a little smile, his feet drag him to the living room, you pop the dishes into the dishwasher while the kettle boils for the tea, you walk to the living room, two mugs of tea in your hand.
“Here you go” you hand him his mug, a green one with a frog on it, it has been his mug for the past two weeks.
“Thank you.” He croaks.
“Okay, I`m all ears, give it to me.” You plop down next to him, he smiles at you, thank god you don’t go another ten  minutes without seeing these gorgeous dents in his cheeks or else you would yank out your hair. You find yourself smiling at him smiling.
“Okay, so my parents and I are not on good terms, especially my dad, my mom sometimes meet me in the coffee shop I like, I can`t say no to her.” He smiles at the thought of his mother.
“Why, what happened?” you ask, suddenly remember when he had told you that he worked at the hotel to prove a point to his parents.
“My dad is the owner of Kim Industries and groups, he wants me to work for him, for the family business and I have nothing against him or his work, its just not my thing, I don’t vibe with that work y/n, I like cooking, I like peeling potatoes and skinning chickens and marinating meat, cry when I cut onions, I like when I smell like all kind of spices when I leave the kitchen, I love my work, so I left when he told me to choose between my “Stupid job” and him, I left, I left without even saying goodbye like an asshole, left the apartment he gifted me on my birthday as well.” He looks at you when he finishes, a deep sigh letting you know that he feels good after letting it all out, you hope he feels light after his rant.
“And do you feel happy after leaving him? Are you satisfied?” you ask him, voice soft as ever as you hold his hand in your lap, the palm warm because he was previously holding the tea mug in it. He thinks for a few seconds about it.
“No, I feel terrible, I hate it, I love my parents I hate myself for doing this to them, I have them intact in the back of my mind each and every second.” His voice cracks and so does your heart. The smiley, funny, dorky Kim Namjoon was being vulnerable for once and you didn’t know how to handle that.
“Then talk to them, I know it’s what everyone says but joon that`s the only way really, confrontation, telling them how much your work, your hobby means to you, tell them you`re not playing around and I promise you they`ll understand, you dad will understand, you`re his son, his blood and blood is thicker than his business or his wish to have you working for his business. He`s a father , he just wants the best for you Namjoon, the least you can do is to talk to him, tell him you love him and that you will truly be happy if you worked as a chef rather than a businessman, maybe you won`t be as successful as him but you`ll be happy and you`ll have no one to blame for your grumpiness when you are old.” His eyes don’t leave yours, a tear streams down his cheek and you wipe it away with your thumb and in the next second you are squished back into the couch, Namjoon tackling you like a big puppy.
“Thank you so much y/n, thank you thank you.” He mumbles against your neck, squeezing the life out of you in the process. You feel something wet on your neck, he was crying.
“Sshhh, it`s okay, you`ll make it right, right?” you rub his back and he nods into your neck sniffling. He shifts to get more comfortable taking you with him, his face buried in your neck, the beating of your heart and your soft hands on his back lull him to sleep, you don’t wake him up, your arm is all needles and pins but you don’t move, he looks so peaceful to disturb.
Namjoon promised you Indian food tonight, despite you telling him that the intense spices will leave the whole house smelling like them for weeks, he insisted on having Indian food tonight, you gave in of course, you liked Indian food and…him, but where was he? Both your shifts were coming to an end as you were wiping down your shelves and counters. You look over to Namjoon`s station, so used to him being there blowing you a kiss or passing a wink your way when he caught you staring at him but nothing today, he was not there in the past hour and you are bitter about it not sure why but you are not feeling your best right now.
“Hey mark, have you seen Namjoon?” you ask mark, he`s a waiter and he just came in, you hope maybe he`s seen him outside the kitchen.
“Uh yeah, I just saw him get in a Mercedes with a hot chick, really nice legs by the way, I know that because I see hundreds of pairs of legs every day.”  Mark flaunts his chatty nature and you regret asking him in the first place.
“Okay, thank you mark.” You force a smile in hopes of shooing him away, he does go away, but the bitter feeling in your stomach rises up to your mouth. A hot chick with nice legs? Why do you feel so sad about this? She could be a friend right? Are they out for dinner? But you were gonna cook Indian dinner tonight right? You don’t feel good, sick is the word you would use right now.
“I`m heading out jihyo.” You grab your bag, not even bothering to change in the staff room.
“Hey noona, want to go out for drinks with me and…jihyo noona?” Jungkook adds quickly scratching the back of his neck.
“No kookie, I already feel sick right now, drinks is not a good idea, thank you though.” You smile at him and he nods quickly.
“Okay no problem, take care, drink some green tea, it helps me with when I`m sick.” He suggests sweetly making you smile at him more.
“Okay, I will.” You tell him, not sure how to tell him that this sickness is not going to go away with any tea or medicine, it was sickness that can be cured with a person, specifically Namjoon.
The more you walk towards your house and the more you think about Namjoon and his possible date tonight, the more you find yourself being the stupid one. Namjoon was not yours, there was no stamp on him that said “Return to y/n”, he was a free man, he could do whatever he wanted to, he was nice to you, slept in your house for a few weeks and suddenly you have the audacity to think he`s your husband or something, of course he ditched your shitty couch and your sister`s creaking bed when he had the chance to, of course he`s gonna wine and dine in some expensive restaurant rather than pigging out on Indian food he has to prepare with you bossing him around, of course he left in a Mercedes with a hot chick instead of coming back to you who smells like soap and fish right now and you make him walk to your house, of course, everything makes sense now, that`s just the life Namjoon has lived all his life and the life he is used to living, him being nice to you is nothing but him being nice and an angel of a man, you want to punch yourself in the throat for even thinking he might like you. You were never likable then what made you think any different now. You can never make people stay for just you then what made you think he would. Your heart was breaking at the realization, but there wasn’t a tear in your eyes because all of this was true. You were not anything special and honestly you`ve been okay with it, not everyone is special and you knew that what you didn’t know was that it would hurt like a bitch when Namjoon finds out you`re nothing special, and you think tonight he did find out.
You walk into your empty house, throwing the bag on the ground with a thud, your stomach churns, you were so excited to cook together with Namjoon that you didn’t eat anything properly, wanting to completely crazy on the spicy Indian food he`ll give you. You look around for something to eat, just ingredients no food. You grab a plum from your fruit bowl and take a bite that bite being a trigger for some sort for your tear ducts, tears streaming down your face like a waterfall as you ugly cry still holding the plum between your lips. You finish the plum with a good cry, your heart feeling washed of the bitter feeling but there`s still a pain in your heart. The door bell rings and you look up, who could it be at this hour? You sniffle, grabbing some tissue to dab your eyes and cheeks. You open the door to see Namjoon standing there with some grocery bags in his hands.
“You left early sweetpea, not cool, I had to get all the stuff for our dinner tonight, you`re peeling onions.” Namjoon fakes his annoyance as he walks past you with heavy bags in his hands, going straight for your kitchen. You look at him like he was a ghost, your own complexion drained of any color and you don’t whether it`s because of the extreme excitement to see him at your door or what you will tell him when he`ll see your swollen eyes. You don’t him to think you were jealous.
“Buttercup, I was joking you don’t need to chop onions, I know how much you hate…” he comes back to see you glued to the same spot.
“Why didn’t you change?” he asks softly and you gulp.
“Y/n were you crying?” he rushes to you, his hands holding your elbows.
“N-no, no” you try make your voice stronger but fail miserably.
“Yes, you were, your eyes are all red, your face is swollen.” He rubs your cheek.
“Hey!” you fake annoyance “thanks for telling me how bad I look.” You giggle, wanting to change the topic.
“Never, you never look bad, if anything you look cuter right now.” He chuckles, his hands rubbing your elbows through your uniform.
“Yeah yeah, good one after a great blow straight to my heart.” You joke trying to pull away from him. “I reek, I should go change.” You try to walk past him but he stops you, this time his hold a little tight on your elbows.
“Darling, I asked you why you were crying and I think you know me enough to know that I will not let you go until you tell me.” His words come out in a hushed whisper and you feel the shivers running down your legs.
“I was hungry and I thought you ditched me and I had no food to eat, I…I cry when I`m hungry.” You muster up your best lying face, technically it was not a lie, just not the whole truth. He laughs, a big hearty laugh that makes your heart smile.
“Aww you`re so cute.” He brushes away the strand of stray hair that stuck to your cheek. You huff trying to walk past him, but he holds you in place, he ducks down to your height, so that he looks into your red and swollen eyes better.
“And here I was getting ahead of myself, thinking you might be jealous, oh well a guy can dream right?” his eyes bore into your soul and you can`t maintain eye contact anymore.
“Jealous? Pff no way.” You nervously laugh.
“How do you know what I`m talking about?” he smirks and you feel glass shattering in your brain, you stupid hoe, what do you do this?
“I… I…” you can`t decide on words.
“She was my cousin, she`s visiting us for some days…with her husband.” He says, smiling when he sees your eyes shoot up to him not missing the little glow in them at his words, his eyes roam down to your lips watching you bite down on the lower one lightly.
“Oh” you laugh, a guttural laugh, mainly at your fast imagination and stupid brain.
“Right right…cool, you don’t have to explain, I`m not…” you ramble but it cuts off in the middle when you feel his lips pressed on yours, you turn into mush at once, Namjoon notices as he gathers you up in his arms pressing you into him, his lips were so soft and pillowy you were getting hooked on them for sure, you feel him lick your bottom lip asking for an entrance which you allow in a heartbeat, his tongue tastes like coffee and you`re afraid you might not like drinking coffee from a mug after this, it was too addicting, he breaks the kiss with a loud pop, leaving you panting with jelly legs, he chuckles when sees you drunkenly follow his lips, which earns you a quick peck on yours. You were disappointed to say the least.
“Go change and I`ll get started on the dinner, silly girl, you really thought I would ditch you, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He gives you one last sweet and loud peck on the cheek that has you scrunching your nose in pure happiness. You don’t say anything, the walk to your room felt like you were walking on the clouds, the foolish drunken grin not falling from your face.
“He kissed me?” you touch your lips with a smile in the shower, the hot water running down your body.
“He kissed me.” You squeal, careful not to slip in the shower.
You two were walking home, crazy how you don’t see it as your home now, Namjoon just made a place for him in your heart and in your house alike, he barely went back to his place, even after he got his own place, he`s still found in your living room watching movies with you making you food and munching on your frosted cereals, you buy it for him now to be honest.
“I talked to my parents.” He stops to tell you. You look at him proudly. That takes a lot of courage, as children we all want to be the best kids possible for our parents, doing what they want so that they can see us worthy of something and telling them what you want and its something they don’t want for you takes guts.
“Really, oh my god joonie I`m so proud of you.” You pull him in a hug, squeezing him all you wanted making him giggle at your futile tries.
“It`s all because of you, you made me think about it, thank you y/n.” he holds you close, friends don’t hold friends this close to their face right? You didn’t wanted to be his friend, your thoughts were getting way too wild for him to be just your friend, friends don’t peck each other`s lips briefly before leaving for bed, so what were you exactly? You were not brave enough to ask him and ruin what you had.
“No, it`s all you, I`m so glad you finally decided to talk to them, how do you feel?” you smile up at him, brushing back the hair on his forehead, feeling him lean into your touch.
“Great, I feel so light and just… great!” he grins, dimples pop and now you have the privilege of poking them.
“I`m so happy to hear that, you deserve to feel great.” You poke at his dimples with both your index fingers and his smile widens.
“You know, If you like my dimples so much, you should be kind enough and get some for your children, I`ll be happy to volunteer.” He holds both of your hands, yanking you forward to crash into him with full force, chest to chest.
“What do you say dovey?” he places your hands in his hair, your fingers moving on muscle memory, playing with the smooth strands, he still doesn’t let go of your wrists.
“No, ew!” you giggle, hoping he doesn’t hear the heartbeat you`re hearing in your ears.
“Oh baby, but think about your kids, they`ll be the cutest with cute little dimples.” His eyes scan your features; you busy yours in his hair to avoid his intense yet loving gaze.
“Don’t threaten me with cute little dimples, I might say yes.” You joke.
“Please do.” He deadpans.
“You`re way too much Casanova, let`s go before we freeze out here, you break free of his grasp, he lets you otherwise you are in no way able to break free from him. Your face is on fire so you hike up the collar of your coat your face.
“You never told me how it went?” you walk past him, he walks next to you again.
“Dad listened to me y/n, he really listened for the first time in my life when I was pouring my heart out to him, mom was crying as usual, she thought I came to say goodbye forever, she`s emotional like that.” He laughs, you notice he`s too fond of his mother which makes him more cute to you for some reason.
“That`s amazing.” You smile at him and returns it.
“I invited them to come to our hotel for dinner tomorrow and Dad said yes!” he stops again to squeeze your forearms in excitement, his puffy jacket was making him look like a giant cuddly teddy bear.
“Oh my god  you idiot! You didn’t tell me the best part!” you whine, jumping up and down with him.
“You were too busy asking to be my children`s mom.” He says while jumping, this earns him a flick on the forehead.
“Ouch!” he winces, rubbing his forehead with a pout on his face. Your grin doesn’t falter. You were so happy for him, he looked so happy after seeing his parents and you were glad you were there to see it.
“I`m planning on serving them a full Korean meal, what do you think?” he asks you already excited and a little nervous for tomorrow night.
“I think you should let them order what they want, if it`s Korean food then be it, but I think they would just be excited to see their son in his zone, in his element you know, don’t worry.” You reassure him and he smiles at you like you`re a shooting star and he will miss it passing by if he blinks.
“Okay” he whispers.
The night was here, Namjoon`s special night, his night to prove to his dad how much he loves his work.
“You wanna see them, they`re here” Namjoon grins at you once he came back into the kitchen, you nod. He takes your hand and leads you towards the door that connects the dining hall with the kitchen, he pushes you towards the door closing in on you from behind, his head hovering over your shoulder as he points over to something through the round glass window, your breath hitches when you turn to see him, bad idea, his face is too close that you lips almost touch, not that it would be the first time but still not the time.
“Third table from the left, my dad is wearing a black suit and my mom is wearing a navy blue dress.” He points with a grin, and you spot the couple not because of Namjoon`s description of them but because your eyes land on the lady in navy blue dress who looks a lot like Namjoon, they were twins almost, same lips, same smile and kind face.
“I see them.” You tell him softly and he pulls you back.
“I told you they`ll come.” You tell him softly.
“Yeah you did and honestly that`s the only reason I didn’t ball my eyes out, I really thought they were gonna ditch me.” He laughs, feeling relieved, the color that had left his cheeks coming back to its rightful place.
“They would never, they`re here aren’t they.” You glance back at the lovely couple.
“Yeah, let`s see what they order.” He claps excitedly and jogs to his station. You giggle at his enthusiasm.
The night well, too well actually, Namjoon`s parents were true Koreans, they ordered an array of Korean dishes and Namjoon made it with so much love and affection, the smile not faltering from his face as he chopped away the vegetables and stirred the sauces. He made you taste everything, your approval making his grin wider every time, after his parents get up to leave after dinner, Namjoon is nervous to meet them outside.
“Go joon, just go, see them off.” You push him, his huge and muscular frame not even moving from its place.
“I`m scared y/n.” he mumbles.
“Don’t be a baby Namjoon, go.” You try again, successful in pushing him towards the back entrance.
“You sure?” he asks, his hands cold when you hold them.
“Yes I am, now go before I kick your ass.” You give him one final push through the door, he`s outside, you give him a thumbs up. When he`s gone it`s your turn to feel nervous, it`s been ten minutes why isn’t he back? You think, chewing on your fingernail. You walk side to side, thinking what`s happening right now? Is his father happy? Angry? The door bursts open revealing a Namjoon with teary eyes, your heart falls to your feet.
“W-what happened?” you ask him in a rush. He smiles and tackles you in a hug, the force is immense and if he weren’t gluing you to his body right now, you were bound fall ass first on the ground.
“They were so happy y/n, my dad, he was so happy he almost cried.” He says into your neck and you feel your soul coming back into your body.
“Really!” you wrap your arms around him.
“Yeah, he said, “I`m happy for you son, I`m happy that you`re happy and that you have found something you`re good at.” He repeats his father`s words pulling away from you. You can`t help but feel emotional, tears welling up in your eyes at his words.
“He said he missed me.” Namjoon sniffles, his cheeks were stained with tears but he looked so happy and content.
“See, I told you he would understand.” You smile, tears getting squeezed out of your eyes.
“Yeah you did, you`re always right.” He holds you close to him, you two stay like this for a little while.
“Um, not to interrupt anything but we have a line of heads to feed and our two best chefs are making out by the back door.” You hear jihyo`s playful comment, jumping away from Namjoon.
“We were not making out.” You tell her quickly making Namjoon chuckle.
“Yeah, we were definitely not sucking face.” You look up to see Namjoon winking at jihyo.
“Yeah, got it” she makes finger guns at him with a wink and you punch Namjoon`s chest making him hiss.
You walk towards your house with Namjoon, he said Yoongi invited him and his other friends for drinks tonight, boys` night out if you will.
“You can go Namjoon, I can walk home alone just fine.” You tell him for the tenth time.
“Nope, I`m walking you home.” He tells you for the tenth time, he has been a little gone in thoughts since you’ve left the hotel.
“Okay, don’t blame me if you get late and get your ass kicked by Yoongi.” You warn him, hoping he would get scared of Yoongi kicking his ass.
“I can handle butt stuff for you darling.” He says with a snort but it soon turns into a yelp when you kick his shin.
You stop in front of your house, turning to him.
“Now go, have fun, you deserve it tonight.” You smile at him, he says nothing instead goes in for a hug, his body completely hiding yours in a bear hug as he squeezes you tight.
“Thank you for everything.” He speaks into your hair.
“Yeah yeah.” You giggle rubbing his back, you gasp when he slaps your butt lightly.
“Don’t be too cocky ma`am.” He whispers hotly in your ear and you freeze, your hands stilling on his back.
“I…y/n sorry…I…that was…” he pulls back a little flustered, his eyes not meeting yours.
“No, no its fine, I mean its okay.” you rush, trying to diminish the embarrassment for the both of you.
“I should go.” He takes a step back with a nervous chuckle.
“Yes you should.” You tell him with an awkward smile.
“But I don’t want to.” He looks at you.
“I don’t want you to.” You say in a trance, eyes meeting his. He leaps towards you, lips clashing onto yours with a force, this kiss was nothing like the ones you shared with him previously, this one was needy, desperate, dirty and sloppy, this one was both of you trying to eat each other up, this one showed the pent up tension for the past weeks. His hands were everywhere on your body, yours pull him down by the collar of his coat, your neck craning up to drink him in completely, his tongue licks into your mouth like there was no tomorrow and all he had was this moment right here, you`re no better yourself, the sounds you make are embarrassing for just making out, clearly giving away your want and desperation for him, you mewl when he bites on your lip before pulling away.
“Want to go in precious?” he husks and you nod immediately, he smiles wiping his thumb on your kiss bitten lips, his look better you think, all red and cherried.
He pushes you against the door as soon as you close it behind you earning a gasp from you, which he swallows with his mouth gladly, his lips move to your cheeks, then to both of your eyes, his hands creeping down to the back of your thighs, picking you up in an instant, lips not leaving yours, you feel like exploding at this point, your lips are tingling in the bestest way possible and your pussy is clenching by the way his hard abdomen is pressing against it.
“My room or your room?” he asks against your lips, licking over them again as he waits for your response.
“Well, they`re both my rooms technically.” You don’t know why you say this, but you do, your nerves getting the best of you.
“Sassy, I`ve always loved it but I`ll make sure to fuck the sass out of you tonight doll.” He bites down on your chin with a growl making you squeal. You grin, already looking forward to it. He walks towards his room.
“No let`s go to mine, this bed creaks a lot.” You tell him as your lips work on his neck, sucking and nipping on the soft warm skin.
“All the more reason to fuck you in it sweetpea, I bet we wouldn’t even hear it creak over the sound of you screaming.” He squeezes your ass in his hand making you whine in his neck.
“Aw don’t go all shy on me now.” He lets out a dark laugh.
He places you gently on the bed, his long fingers already getting rid of the coat your were wearing, lips coming back on yours again, fingers unbuttoning the pink button down shirt you wore after the shower at work. Your fingers tremble over his coat and he takes the hint, breaking the kiss and getting rid of his coat and then his tee shirt, revealing the expanse of his firm chest and abs, the golden skin looked as if it is glazed in honey, you want to lick every inch of it,you can just do that tonight and be happy. He takes your trembling hand and puts it on his chest, moving it up and down.
“Touch it all you want, touch me.” He whispers against your lips and this time you close the distance between them getting on your knees on the bed, hands still rubbing his chest down to his torso. You feel him slide your shirt down your shoulders revealing a light pink tee shirt bra underneath it. The cold air was making the hair on your arms stand. Namjoon looks down at your chest with a gulp.
“Fuck, so pretty.” He marvels at the sight, you feel the blush creep up your chest to your ears.
“Can I touch them please?” he asks so politely, you can sacrifice your right arm if he asks you this nicely, touching your boobs was no problem.
“Yes.” You sigh. His hands are big on your chest, completely covering your mounds as he kneads them with so much care and adoration in his eyes.
“They are softer than I had imagined.” He coos, eyes on your breasts as if he`s talking to them. The confession that he thought about your boobs makes your head dizzy and face hot. His hands go back to the hook of your bra, unclasping it in a second, his eyes don’t leave your drunk and hooded ones as he slides the straps from your shoulders. He pushes you back to lay on the bed, opening your legs to settle between them, your nipples harden with every second, his plump lips go for your cheeks, down to your jaw then your neck, you crane it up to give him more room, moaning when he licks a strip on your collar bone. He laughs “I think I found your happy spot darling.” He sucks a purple mark on the delicate skin.
“Joon.” You sigh, fingers lost in his hair. He hums against your pulse, lips not stopping for a second as he makes his way down to kiss the tops of your breasts, sucking the fleshy part into his hot mouth, creating multiple little blossoms on the skin.
“You are a work of art honey, fuck.” He looks at you, his pupils blown, lips blood red.
“Namjoon, do something, p-please.” You whine, not knowing how else to ask him for him.
“I`ll take care of you baby doll, don’t you worry.” He sucks a nipple into his mouth, the hot suction making you see stars dancing behind your lids.
“Uhhh, ahh” you cry out, fingers still in his hair, yanking a little when he bites down on the sensitive bud. His lips move down to your belly, he licks and kisses there, your stomach producing a new batch of butterflies wherever he kisses. His fingers hook into the waist band of your jeans, sliding them down your legs. He glides down more, you sigh when you see him glide past your core, the only place you need his mouth, his attention on right now.
“I love your legs, sweetheart, do you know how many times I`ve gotten hard when you wear those tiny sleeping shorts around me, can`t even focus on the stupid movie you play for us, always just think about opening your legs and kiss on them, just like this.” He smooches you calves all the way up to your inner thighs, sucking marks into them, you lay there and take it with whines and cries of his name and begging for more. You lift your hips up in a hurry when you feel him hook his fingers into your underwear making him chuckle against your thigh, the hot puff of air making your pussy bloom. He tears the panties down your legs, spreading your legs wider, he caresses your inner thighs.
“Looks so delicious baby.” He winks before diving down, licking a bold stripe on your soaked slit. You mewl, your legs closing on instinct, his fingers digging into the flesh keeping them apart, even spreading them more. You feel his fingers making a “V” to spread your lips as he sucks on your sensitive bud sending shock waves to your entire being.
“Oh fuck Namjoon, yes.” You moan out, slowly grinding against his tongue.
“You like it baby?” he looks at you, smiling at the way you nod with your eyes closed and face fucked out already from just his tongue.
“Gotta do more of that then right baby?” he eases a finger into your dripping hole, thrusting it in and out.
“P-lease.” Your voice cracks and he dives back into your pussy, his nose pressed against your labia as his mouth sucks on your clit while his fingers fuck you so good, you almost drool. Your feet pressed on his back as he pulls you into his face more by your hips, your hands reach to scratch and hold onto the bed post, desperate for anything to hold to ease the overwhelming actions that were being unfold in front of your eyes.
“Ungghh, close close close.” You chant, hips jerking at the sensitivity.
“come in my mouth baby, on my tongue” Namjoon pauses to say and dives back in, fingers fucking you with a mission now, suction on your clit getting intense.
“Fuck, oh god joonie!” you cry out his name, lifting your neck up to see what he was doing, you moan shamelessly at the sight, Namjoon shirtless, sucking on your pussy, his fingers inside your hole, his dragon eyes looking up at you was the sight that sends you over the edge. The tug of war in your stomach ending with the rope snapping leaving you panting, you cry when you try to get away from him, he pins you down with a growl, a hand pinning you to the bed as you squeal and he makes you ride out your orgasm on his merciless tongue.
“You good lovebug?” he chuckles when he comes up to see you almost passed out.
“K-kiss me joon, please.” You voice is weak, he complies slotting his lips with yours, you moan when you taste the sweet tang of your essence on his lips, your thumb comes up wipes some off his chin.
“Wanna make you feel good too.” You break away from his lips with a new full tank of energy. You roll over him, he lets you move him with you until you`re on top, your hair fall down like a stream towards him and he`s in awe of what a goddess you Look like right now, your cheeks flushed, mouth red, your neck and breasts all covered in his marks. He smirks at how far gone you were to let him do that to you.
“What are you smirking at handsome?” you trail a finger down his chest, letting your nails scratch him soothingly.
“Nothing, just lucky to be here, lucky to see you like this, it feels like a dream.” He smiles softly, making your insides turn, he looks so good right now, there`s a purple mark from your lips just above his right collarbone, you trace it.
“Want me to show you how real it is?” you whisper kissing down his chest, sucking on the his nipple, he moans for the first time that night, a full on moan, you are already greedy for this sound to hit your ears again.
“I think I found your happy spot boo.” You repeat his words and he sighs, his fingers tangling in your hair, holding them up to have a better view of your face, he watches suck on his nipple, his head rolls back.
“Oh shit y/n, so good ah” he breaths when you suck and bite on his sensitive nerves.
“Lift up.” You tell him and he obliges lifting up his hips for you to drag down his pants along with his boxers, your eyes widen at the sight of cock, it was probably the biggest one you`ve ever seen in your life, your mouth waters at the sight and you feel your pussy quiver at the thought of taking him in. your take him in your hands, stroking slowly, the weeping tip acting as the lube to make the glide of your hand pleasurable for him.
“Ah, hahh, y/n baby.” His abs are tensed and his eyes are closed in ecstasy.
“Does it feel good baby?” you ask him, greedy for his approval as if his bottom lip tucked between his teeth and his furrowed eyebrows are not giving away how he feels.
“So good, so so good, you`re a-amazing.” He breathes and you grin, your hand speeding up on his cock, you lean forward to lick the tip making his hips jerk off the bed. You take the tip into your mouth, sucking on it like it’s the sweetest candy in the world, it really is.
“Oh fuck y/n fuck.” He moans your name in a way that makes your pussy clench around nothing, his voice always made you needy but today it was making you lose control over sanity. You slack your jaw to take more of him in and you feel him jerk up into your mouth, he stops mid jerk in fear of hurting you, you rub his thighs to encourage him to use you however he wants, he slowly fucks into your mouth, his hand wrapping your hair in a pony tail as he looks down at you.
“Who knew this smart mouth was this good at sucking dick.” He says through gritted teeth, you moan at his words, tears stinging your eyes as he eases into the part of your throat that is a little hard to get into.
“Remember all the time you ran your mouth at me, run your mouth on my cock baby, that`s all you`re good at.” You have found your kink right now because his words send a gush of wetness to your pussy, you feel the slick slide down your thighs, you growl in response on his cock, still not backing down, the vibrations making his eyes roll back into his head.
“Oh sweet girl, you`re so good to me ahh.” He slowly ruts into you. He fucks your mouth for a few minutes and then pulls you off his dick.
“Need to be inside you, you want that sugar plum?” he pecks your lips sweetly and you nod, your approval is all he needs to roll you over, your back hitting the mattress, you whine when you see him leave the bed looking down for his coat.
“Jihyo must be a psychic.” He wiggles a condom he pulls out from his pocket. You giggle. You watch him roll on the rubber on his perfect and rock hard cock. You want it inside you or in your mouth again.
“Hurry up.” You whine, your heartbeat picking up again.
“I`m right here precious.” He tackles you on the bed again, his hands pulling your legs apart, you wrap them around his waist and look down to see his hand leading the bulbous head to your sodden hole. You mewl at the breach, it already feels so right and it was just the head going in, he pushes more of him inside you cry at the sensation, throwing your head back, he takes the opportunity to suck on your throat in attempts of distracting you from the discomfort, he pushes one more time, grunting when he watches himself bottom out inside you, pelvises joined. Your mouth opens in silent scream.
“So full.” You marvel as he sucks on your collarbones. You feel so full, so full to the point you feel like you would feel empty without it from now on.
“Are you okay? want me to stop?” Namjoon looks a little worried at the way you can`t even open your eyes, your hands falling limp from his shoulders.
“I…it feels incredible joon…so good please don’t stop.” You open your eyes to meet his, he smiles kissing your lips, his hips coming to action, his movements slow and calculated, you mewl in his mouth.
“My baby, it`ll feel great after few moments.” He encourages with a smile and you nod tears swimming in your eyes. He ducks down to your neck, placing soft kisses there, your hands go back to his shoulders, legs tighten around his torso as he fucks into you, he was right, it felt amazing after few thrusts, your pussy fluttering to make space for his giant cock, slobbering it up for his thrusts to be more smooth.
“Oh ahh ahh ahh!” you hold him close to you as he fucks you slow but deep.
“Good girl, you`re doing so well for me.” He bites kisses down your breasts, kissing sloppily on the tops. His hands pin your wrists above your head as he picks up his pace making you a weeping mess.
“Be good, no crying little lady, can you be good for me?” he grunts as he jack hammers you into the mattress, the bed creaking at every thrust, bed post hitting the wall. You nod, wanting to be nothing but good for him.
“That`s it, been dreaming about making you cry on my cock since the day I saw you, but you had to ruin it by starting a fight with me didn’t you?” his thrusts are animalistic, your legs tremble on his waist but you keep them there, his hands are pinning your wrists above your head, cock splitting you in half.
“If you didn’t start that dumb little fight, we would’ve been fucking on our anniversary right now, not for the first time, you silly little girl.” His pace doesn’t slow down, your eyes roll back in pleasure, toes curling on his back.
“I…I`m sorry.” You squeak.
“Yeah, you should be, made me wait so long for you, for this creamy pussy, you should be sorry you dumb slut.” He pounds you into the mattress, biting his bottom lip at the way your bruised breasts bounce up and down with each thrust.
“Say it, say you`re a dumb slut.” His voice comes out breathy and deep as he pistons inside you.
“I`m…I`m a dumb slut.” You scream.
“That`s right, a dumb slut, who`s only good for taking this cock, a dumb slut with a good pussy.” He leans down to kiss you deep and messy.
“Yes yes.” You don’t even what you`re agreeing to.
“And you`re mine now, got it? I will never throw your sassy and bratty ass away, you`ll be mine forever understood?” he says against your lips.
“Yours, I`ll be yours joon, oh fuck I`ll be your slut.” You babble.
“My queen, my sweetheart.” He pecks your lips over and over again.
“Anything, want to be…yours ahhh fuck!” you cry against his lips as he releases your hands, moving his own to rub your clit.
“I`m gonna ohhh come.” You scream.
“I got you beautiful, do it, let go.” He encourages you, two of his fingers rubbing you. You come with a scream of his name, your legs falling limp but he holds them up, still thrusting inside you, it doesn’t take him long to chase his release as he falls on top of you.
“You good baby?” he asks, his voice coming out as puffs against your chest.
“mmh, perfect.” You reply making him chuckle.
He gets up to roll the condom off him, chucking it in the bin.
“So you`re mine now?” he asks with his eyes closed, his hand closing in on your breast.
“What no.” you bat his hand away, his eyes are wide as he looks at you.
“That`s not…what you…said moments ago.” He looks genuinely worried and you decide to tease him more about it.
“People say all kinds of stuff when they need to get an orgasm.” You shrug your shoulders trying not to laugh.
“Y/n I swear if this is a joke, cut it out before I cry.” His voice cracks and you laugh, unable to keep this going with him looking like a kicked puppy right now. He leaps to bury his face in your chest.
“Mean!” he groans.
“Aw” you coo, wincing when he pinches your hip.
“I have decided that I like you more when you are getting fucked, you`re way more understanding and cooperating that way.” He smirks at you.
“Keep this up and this might be the first and the only time I let you do this lover boy.” You yank his hair.
“I can bet my left eye I can make you go again right now.” He says before closing his lips on yours, you wrap your hands around his neck to pull him closer, you take his hand in yours to glide it towards your pussy making him smirk.
“Don`t.” you warn.
“I didn’t say a word my queen.” He winks, before sinking two fingers inside you.
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krazykento · a month ago
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# ABOUT :: yn, a mere college student who is struggling to finish (along with her two idiotic bestfriends) one day gets noticed by THE kim namjoon, on a random day, at a random time. she thinks nothing of it until she receives a random dm from him . . .
# UPDATES ;; STARTING 10/25/2021 @ 12 PM PST
# AN: hello! so excited to start this, this is kind of my motivation to actually get up and complete something. totally not like my other works, where i write for anime characters, but recently i fell in love with kpop and wanted to give this a try! i LOVE social media aus, so why not! i'm in uni rn so the updates will be on a schedule, but trust me, whenever i have time i'll try and post more! please let me know via ask if you would like to be added to the taglist.
000 ;; yn & her two giant babies !
000 ;; rm & his annoyingly talented cousins ! ( & jungkook . . .)
001 ;; walking red flag
chapter one & two extras
003 ;; . . .
all rights reserved to krazykento. do not modify, repost, or share without permission. there is some content on our blog that is suggested to people eighteen years and older.
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kookiestarlight · 2 months ago
Double trouble | fic announcement!
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➸ pairing: dad!namjoon x mom!reader
➸ genre: fluff, a little angst, smut, married couple, domesticity, parents au, slice of life
➸ rating: 18+
➸ summary: Parenthood isn’t easy. With a toddler going through the unruly “terrible twos” and another baby on the way, tension has been running inevitably high in the Kim household — Fortunately, namjoon always knows just the way to melt away your stress and bring peace flooding back into your heart.
➸ release date: coming soon (specific date tba!)
a/n: I was craving for some domestic husband joon and I couldn’t get dad!joon out of my head so I guess this is the result of that🥲 super excited to share my first joon fic soon!! <3
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taglist: let me know via my ask box, message or comments if you would like to be added! 🤍
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gcfkims · 3 months ago
the sea between us | knj. (m)
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summary: the last thing you expect to learn after your awful day is that mermaids exist- more specifically in the form of namjoon, a mermaid prince. believing you to be a part of the castle’s kitchen staff, he enlists your help in teaching him about the ways of humans before he goes off to marry his betrothed. you agree to help him, but what you don’t tell him is that you’re actually a princess and that you have your own arranged marriage to worry about. it’s a good thing that you and namjoon will be nothing more than acquaintances...right? royalty au, fantasy au, mermaid au
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title: the sea between us
pairing: mermaid prince! namjoon x human princess! female reader
genre: romance, angst, smut, royalty au, fantasy au, mermaid au
word count: 27,364 words exactly (i have no words to express how ,,, sorry i am for this being as long as it is dfhbhbfdjbhj)
warnings: HOOO BOY WHERE DO WE BEGIN angst, romance, smut, a near drowning and death (from reader pov, if uncomfortable plEASE DO NOT READ), this features older brother prince yoongi and head baker seokjin, mutual pining, namjoon is literally the sweetest and it’s infuriating, waltzing to the merry go round of life by joe hisaishi bc i am a ghibli hoe, first kisses, arguments, angst angst angst, anD THEN HAPPY ENDING!!, fluff bc i need fluff, skinny dipping on the reader’s end, making out (in the water), (f receiving!) fingering (in the water), namjoon is strong as hell, soft dom!namjoon, fsub!reader, outdoor sex (they’re out in the open but no one’s around them??), (f receiving!) fingering (but this time on land bc variety is the spice of life), namjoon is a tease bc of course he is, dirty talk, (f receiving!) marking, (m receiving!) scratching, edging, heavy grinding, unprotected sex, first time sex, clit play, (f! receiving) multiple orgasms, namjoon goes from soft feral to tender bc of course he does, consent kink, cowgirl position, (kind of) cockwarming, namjoon has a thing for the reader’s ass (and as he should), this devolves back into feral tender sex, orgasming together, creampie (wrap it before you tap it lmfao), a sappy ending bc sappy endings are my forte :’))
part of the Last Splash collab, hosted by the incredible @kimtaehyunq!! please check out this masterlist and look at all of the other amazing writers hehe <3
rating: 18+ for smut and language, as well as an advisory warning for written content (near-drowning related)
songs to listen to: the sea between us playlist
a/n: school starts literally this week aND THIS BEAST OF A FIC HAS BEEN RELEASED IN TIME YEEHAW!! this fic took me out ngl bUT one of the many things keeping me going is moon telling me this fic is so “studio ghibli-esque” and DAMMIT I WILL WRITE A FIC THAT’S UP TO GHIBLI’S STANDARDS!! anyways, i hope you enjoy :’)
disclaimer: the banner was made by ate ryen @kithtaehyung​!!! she’s a genius and i love you :’)) ALSO!! this fic is heavily unedited, i will edit it once i have the time (some time this week!!)
thanks to: thank you so much to moon @bangtanhome​ for being a superhero beta and convincing me to not delete the doc from my drive and give up :’)) thank you to the amazing rani @joonscore​ for letting me rant to her abt this fic and convincing me that it was good- you really kept me going rani :’)) and another huge thank you to ate ryen @kithtaehyung for making the amazing banner you see as well as beta-ing too!!! it’s beautiful and fits the aesthetic so wonderfully, i love it so much :’))
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Ever since you could remember, you’ve always been drawn to the sea.
There was just something about it that entranced you, whether it was the way it glittered beneath the sun, how the waves gently lapped at the shore, or the calm you felt when you were nearby it- you don’t know. The sea has always been your solace, the one thing that has always been a constant source of comfort.
And right now, especially with the news you’re currently absorbing, the one thing you want to do is run to its shores and weep because it feels like your life is over.
“...I’m sorry, ____.” Your father’s voice draws you out of your head and you quickly look up, lips parting slightly when you see that he has a soft look in his eyes. He looks tired and you know that it hurts him seeing you upset, but how can you not be upset when you’re being forced into this arranged marriage?
“It’s okay.” You swallow thickly, nodding your head while your hands grasp at the silk of your dress. “I understand.”
You feel your brother’s hand reach out to grab at yours and you welcome the grounding touch, grasping tightly at Yoongi’s hand. Your father sighs and you hear him get up from his throne, down the steps in order to stand in front of you. His hands cup at your face and he tilts your head up, gently running a thumb under your eyes to get rid of the tears.
“The people are kind, and the prince you’re going to be marrying is a good man, ____. The king of Corarin and I agreed, you two will be the perfect match.” He murmurs softly, gently tucking a piece of hair away from your face. You exhale shakily and nod, unable to meet your father’s eyes in fear of him seeing the sadness in your stare. Your father’s hands move to your shoulders, where he gives you a soft squeeze.
“Your mother would be proud of you, you know. You’ve grown up into a beautiful young woman, capable of leading. You’ll be okay, ____.”
It’s the mention of your mother that has you breaking, pulling away from your father’s embrace and Yoongi’s hold on your hand. “Please...excuse me,” you manage to get out thickly, and you barely see your father’s understanding nod before you’re gathering your skirts in your hands and briskly walking out of the throne room. Once in the hallways you hike your skirts up higher and run faster, tears blurring your vision as you hastily fling the doors to your private quarters open and collapse at your desk, finally allowing yourself to sob on the wood of your desk.
God, who can you even turn to? Your brother is just as shocked as you are, and you don’t have a single close friend in your supposed circle. Who are you even supposed to confide in about this?
There are numerous servants wandering the halls of this castle and you could easily ring one of them in order to have them listen to your frustrations. You already know the outcome of that situation, though- they nod at you and smile in understanding, but late in the evening they gossip about you with smirks on their faces and their brows twisted with annoyance.
“How could the princess talk about her life like that?” They would mutter amongst themselves. “She has it all, why is she complaining?”
You may technically have it all, but the painful reminder of your so called “idyllic” life sits in your chest the longer you weep against the hard grain of your desk- even with numerous castle staff and guards milling around the corridors of this castle, you’re alone in this with no one to turn to.
It suddenly feels too difficult to breathe.
You need to get away from here, and quickly.
You lift your head from your desk, resolve settling. You stand up and begin yanking at your skirts, pulling off the layers until you’re left in only your white chemise and undergarments. You make your way over to your wardrobe, pushing aside the rich silks and soft taffettas for a simple blue dress made of a thin cotton. You pull it on, making your way to your vanity and taking off your exquisite jewelry before undoing your hair, pulling the front strands behind your head.
You grab the first cloak you see and a pair of simple black flats, pulling on the thin wool before making your way to the entrance of your private garden. You push the glass doors open and make your way out of your room onto the terrace, stepping down the marble steps and running across the lush grass to reach an unassuming road that leads to your private sanctuary.
You let your feet guide you until you reach the threshold of land and sea, kicking off your flats in favor of wiggling your toes in the gritty sand. You lift your head and scan the area, shoulders loosening when you find your escape empty.
Your sanctuary being a private beach.
You assume that this beach used to be some sort of mountain before the rocks broke everything apart, leaving a small lake-like structure before the water runs out into the vast ocean. In front of you is a small stretch of sand with the trees behind you, the sun setting on the horizon before you. The waves are gentle and there’s a small wooden dock on the beach itself, extending out into the ocean. You make your way to the dock, pulling off your cloak and tossing it aside as you pull yourself up on the wood, walking carefully over the planks before you reach the edge.
You let your feet hover over the edge, relishing in the weightlessness that comes with standing on air. You carefully balance yourself, squatting down before sitting on the edge of the dock and letting your feet dangle just above the water below you.
Left alone with your thoughts, you can’t help but mull over your current predicament. An arranged marriage? With who? Would they be a good ruler? Will they be kind?
Will they love you for you?
You look out into the waves of the sea, sighing and wiping away a small tear that’s managed to escape your eye. You return your gaze back to the horizon and the setting sun, trying to make peace with what is to be expected of you.
A splash draws you out of your thoughts and you whip your head around, trying to find the source of the noise in the sea. You frown when you don’t see any sort of disturbance in the water, only the gentle back and forth of the waves.
All of sudden, you see a wave rise just a little bit higher than the rest of the calm waters, creating a faster ripple throughout the previously smooth surface. You stand up on the dock to try and get a better vantage point, only for your eyes to widen when you see something break through the surface.
When you squint your eyes, however, you find that it’s not something- but someone.
Their hair is short, slicked back and gleaming a soft greyish silver underneath the oranges of the sunset. You watch as their figure drifts closer and your eyes widen when you see strong arms raise above the water- thick biceps swimming them closer and closer to you. You begin to make out distinct features- the gentle slope of their nose and the soft slant of their eyes, and even though you’re standing a little bit away from them you can see that they look troubled.
Almost as troubled as you feel.
The water by their chest levels out and you avert your eyes to give them privacy, but as you do you see a flash of a firm chest, making your cheeks heat up.
Well, at least you know now that the figure is a man.
You look back up again and find that he’s turned around, staring at the sun that leaves streaks of purple and blue in its wake. Before you can stop yourself, you find yourself calling out to him.
“What are you doing here?” Your voice carries throughout the clear space and you watch as he tenses up, turning around and eyes widening at the sight of you standing on the dock. You hold your hands up as a show of nonviolence but he begins to swim back, clearly startled by your presence.
“Wait, don’t go!” You call out, reaching out to him as you begin to step towards him. “I promise I’m not a threa-”
His eyes widen as you continue stepping, and you barely hear his yell before a scream of your own escapes your lips, stepping off of your dock and into the water.
The sea encases your being as you try to keep your eyes open and hold your breath, feet kicking back and forth as you wriggle your arms, trying to break through the surface of the salt water to catch your breath. Everything suddenly feels too heavy, like you're being weighed down and in your panic induced brain you barely remember that you’re wearing a dress, your chemise, and your corset. You gasp out heavily and freeze up when the briny water fills your mouth, unwillingly sliding down your throat. You cough in an attempt to get rid of the water only to panic when more of it fills your system, making it harder to breathe. You continue flailing around as you feel yourself sinking down, but you feel yourself begin to give up.
The damage has been done- you feel your eyes slip shut from exhaustion as the waving of your arms slows down, slowly drifting back to your sides.
You feel your lungs burn in your chest as your eyes fully close, and you feel your limbs begin to stop as exhaustion takes over your entire being. You feel so tired- all of that waving and wriggling around in your attempt to return back to the surface exhausted you. Perhaps you should go to sleep…
All of a sudden, you feel strong arms encase your waist and your eyes hazily drift open from the surprising sensation. You barely make out the image of a chest before your eyes slowly drift back shut, that heavy sleepy feeling filling your entire being once more.
You faintly register the feeling of breaking through the surface, a soft wind brushing over your face. Your lungs feel so weighed down, though, and no matter what you do you can’t seem to breathe in.
“...try to get the water out-”
Mmm, that would be nice. Maybe you should try to get the water out of your system.
“I’ on your chest-”
Your chest? They’re going to touch your chest?
You wiggle faintly, trying to protect yourself from this intruder. They gently hold you down on your chest plate though, pressing down softly and the sensation has you gagging, jolting upright and coughing harshly. The saltwater spills past your lips and you feel tears slip down your eyes as you heave, gasping deeply for air in order to try and regain some semblance of where you are.
“Are you okay?” A deep voice has you startling, head whipping back and forth as you try and locate the owner of the voice.
And locate him you do. As it turns out, he’s the figure that you saw in the water just before you nearly drowned.
“Yes,” you cough out, bending forward in a bid to get most of the saltwater out of your lungs. “J-just recovering from a near death, nothing new.”
“How curious,” he muses, and you turn back to glare at him.
“Curious?” The word comes out harsher than you had intended it to, but given that you just survived a near death experience, you figure that you have the right to be rude.
“You humans are quite delicate when it comes to the water.” His soft, musing tone has you glaring at him.
“Are you not human?” You ask, bewildered. Really, who does he think he is to call you delicate?
“I’m as human as you are,” he replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “I just belong to a different species, but I assure you- I am human.”
“Different species?” Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve just nearly drowned and you’re delirious with the salt water that’s still lingering in your system, but you can’t help but laugh at the man’s odd word choice. “What do you even mean by that?”
“I- oh.” His eyes widen at his words, face paling as you look at him up and down, trying to figure it out for yourself.
“What?” You ask, only for your own eyes to widen when they travel further down south.
Because instead of a pair of human legs, he has a tail.
A long, thick tail that is much more majestic than a fish’s, complete with fins at the bottom where his feet are supposed to be and at his hips, and colored with brilliant royal blue scales that reflect opalescent underneath the rising moon.
“Is this a jest?” Your eyes travel back up to his face, mirroring the same panic you feel. “There’s no way, you’re a-”
“I have to go.” The sentence is hasty and he begins flopping in the water awkwardly, trying to reach a deeper surface.
“Wait!” You call, standing up and wobbling when you reach your feet. He reaches a deeper body of water and he begins to swim away, looking back at you briefly when you call out. “I promise I won’t hurt you, wait-”
You’re barely able to call it out to him before he pushes himself further into the water, diving upwards and disappearing underneath the surface of the sea with a flick of his tail.
His tail.
You feel exhaustion and today’s events swirl around in your head and you crash back down into the shallow shore, allowing the water to gently lap over your legs as you process the events that have just transpired.
You have an arranged marriage to someone you don’t even know.
Your life as you know it is being signed away in order to bind two kingdoms together.
You nearly drowned, but a man with a tail saved you.
...people with tails exist?
Despite the headache you feel forming in the back of your skull, you find yourself creating a resolution: you will meet this man again.
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Your mysterious encounter has your head racing, and it’s clear that everyone in the castle knows it.
You often fall into a daze during “important” meetings for your wedding, trading the bland chatter about the colors of your wedding with thoughts of just who that mystery man is. Those planning your wedding often have to snap you back to attention, but you can’t help it when the most important piece of information you have been given is what dress you’re going to wear and the order of processions for your wedding ball.
“Princess ____!”
The thunderous voice snaps you out of your stupor and you see your father look at you with a mildly perturbed look on his face, displeased with how you’ve stopped paying attention to the meeting. You feel your cheeks heat up slightly at the looks the many planners of your wedding are giving you, which only solidifies the aching, lonely feeling in your chest.
“Father, if I may interject.” Another voice interrupts the tension and you feel yourself smile when you hear the voice of your beloved brother, Crown Prince Min Yoongi of Torina. He’s the one who’s set to inherit the title of king once your father decides to step down, so he’s devoted this part of his life to learning how to be a diplomat and a fair ruler.
You may be biased, but you think that he’s going to become a wonderful king.
“Yes, Yoongi.” Your father’s voice brings you out of your thoughts and you see him wave his hand in a bid to get Yoongi to talk. “What is it?”
“Everyone looks exhausted,” Yoongi acknowledges, and you release a breath when you realize what he’s about to say. “I suggest we take a break- it would do no good to come to hate this wedding preparation.”
Before your father can say no to Yoongi’s suggestion, you voice your approval. “Yes!” You practically cry out, head whipping up from your enthusiasm.
You see Yoongi try to suppress a smile, nodding in your direction stoically. “You see? Princess ____ needs a break, we should end this meeting for the day and then reconvene tomorrow.”
You look back at your father hopefully, and you internally cheer when your father’s eyes soften before nodding his assent. “All right. Planning adjourned.”
You stand up from your seat and rush out before anyone can strike up a conversation with you- feet automatically guiding you to your chambers so that you can change and go back to your dock. As you’re about to make your escape however, you feel a hand on your wrist and you turn around, eyes widening when you see Yoongi behind you.
“Yes?” Your voice is filled with sarcasm, though both you and he know that your tone is teasing.
“Walk the gardens with me,” he replies, tilting his head towards a nearby door leading to the lush palace gardens. You nod your assent, sweeping up your many skirts and following him out of the hallway into your favorite part of the castle gardens- paths surrounded with shrubbery and rose bushes, various statues placed tastefully in the empty spaces. You pick up your pace, falling into step with Yoongi as you both wander around the paths aimlessly.
The silence is peaceful, and you find your mind asking the same question it’s been pondering the past couple of nights- who could that mysterious man with the tail be? Does he live nearby you? Does he mean harm? Where is he now?
“You have something on your mind.” Yoongi’s voice startles you out of your head, and you turn to look at him in surprise. His eyes are filled with curiosity, and though you know that you can trust Yoongi with anything, you know that you won’t tell anyone about this man.
You don’t want anyone else to know about him.
So, instead, you lie. “This entire wedding situation is stressing me out.”
“Tell me,” Yoongi replies, voice soothing.
And so you do. You voice all of your stressors and concerns as the two of you continue to wander along the many paths in this garden, Yoongi nodding and humming along as you grow increasingly passionate. It’s when Yoongi yawns that you realize that he must have stopped listening, so you decide to test him. 
“...and so, after all things considered, I have now decided that I’m completely okay with this arranged marriage and I am going to willingly get myself impregnated by this man.” You complete your rant with a heavy breath, breathing in deeply.
“Bullshit.” The crass word slips out of his lips and you fight to stifle a very unladylike snort as Yoongi turns to you, mirth evident in his eyes. “You thought I wasn’t paying attention, weren’t you?”
This time, you can’t fight the giggle that escapes your lips as you smile, holding your hands up in jest. “You caught me, my dearest older brother.”
Yoongi joins in your laughter, eyes crinkling as he chortles along. “You forget that I’m the highest ranking diplomat after our father- paying attention is practically my job, dearest younger sister.”
“Hah!” The laugh is filled with sarcasm as you return your hands to behind your back, clearing your throat.
Yoongi gives you one more smile before his lips settle back down in a straight line, pursing them in thought. “Is that really all, though?”
“Yes,” you answer easily, pausing to look at a rose. “Why do you ask?”
“You had this far away look in the meeting room, as if you were thinking about something...or someone.” Yoongi’s musings have you freezing up, tension gathering in your shoulder.
“” The word comes out with hesitation and Yoongi snorts once more.
“You don’t have to tell me unless you’re comfortable,” Yoongi says, and you exhale deeply in relief. “Just...if you need me to cover for you, please let me know.”
“Thank you Yoongi,” you reply, feeling the corners of your lips quirk upwards at Yoongi’s support.
“Any time.” Yoongi smiles at you, nodding his head towards the castle. “Go to whatever it is you need to attend, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’re the best!” You cheer, reaching out and giving his shoulder a quick squeeze before hiking your skirts up once more, running back into the castle and heading straight to your chambers.
Once in your bedroom you march over to your closet, pushing aside your fancy dresses once again for another one of your simpler cotton frocks- this one a soft powder blue embroidered with flowers. You pull it on, leaving the fine silk dress you had on crumpled on the floor of your closet as you walk out, grabbing your flats before pushing the door to your gardens open and running across the lawn until you reach your private beach.
You throw your shoes onto the sand, making your way to the dock once again before standing a couple of inches away from the edge, eyes squinting out into the horizon in search of the same man from a week ago.
Your prayers are answered- you see him lazily floating in the water a few meters away, oblivious to your arrival.
“Hello!” You call, and you fight to stifle a giggle when he disappears from the surface of the water in shock.
His head reappears again, and his eyes widen when he sees your figure standing on the edge of the dock. You wave, attempting to look friendly but he shakes his head, beginning to swim away from the dock and, consequently, you.
“Wait!” Your voice carries throughout the still waters, the man stopping his treading to look back at you. The look in his eyes is guarded, almost fearful and you want nothing more than to comfort him. “Come back! I just want to talk to you!”
“What if I want to swim away and not be seen by you?” He challenges, eyebrows furrowing at your sincerity. “How can I trust you to not report my appearance to the castle that looms behind you?”
“I…” Your voice tapers off, hesitation evident as you try and come up with a reason to get him to trust you. You don’t know why, but you want him to trust you. You want him to know that you’re not a threat and that you would never hurt him. 
There’s something in him that reminds you
“Well?” His voice pierces through your thoughts and your head snaps back at him.
“I work for the castle.” The lie quickly escapes your lips and you watch as the stranger’s eyes widen, almost as if in disbelief.
“Where do you work?” His question is filled with apprehension and before you can even think over the story you’re concocting on the spot, you’re speaking once again.
“In the kitchens.” You’re almost in awe of how convincing you sound, despite how your heart beats out of its chest. “I’m the baker’s apprentice, training to fulfill the role of head baker once the current one retires.”
The lie isn’t wrong. You technically had been learning how to bake and create sweet confections- it was something that your mother wanted you to learn and you had quite the soft spot for it. You had stopped the year before though, having been too laden down with learning how to run a kingdom and how to wear a crown properly.
Still, you hold your breath, waiting to see if the stranger accepts your lie. Moments pass and you can practically see the questions whizzing by his head, but after a few seconds he nods his head and, to your surprise, begins to swim towards you.
Soon enough, he floats to right in front of where you sit on your dock, tail flicking lazily behind him. The glint of the royal blue scales catches your gaze and you can’t help but ogle at the limb, so powerful and beautiful all in one. You’re still in shock over the sight though- do humans with tails really exist?
As if hearing the question in your mind, the man coughs and you hastily redirect your attention over to his face. His cheeks are lightly dusted rosy red and you find yourself biting your lip, looking away and feeling your heart sink at the thought of him feeling uncomfortable because of you.
“So.” The word fills the air and you find yourself looking back down at the man, who looks back at you with an even gaze. “You’re an apprentice who knows her way around the castle.”
“Yes,” you reply without hesitation, cheering internally when you hear that your voice is steady.
“Do you know how a land human?” The odd wording of his question has the corners of your lips quirking up, feeling slightly endeared by the innocuous and child-like wonder in his voice.
“I’m as land human as you get them,” comes your reply. “I know math, reading, politics, some human things.”
“Oh, all land humans I know have knowledge in those things.” The man waves your statement away and you feel the slightest bit of offense fill your system at his dismissal of your smarts, but before you can talk, he continues on.“What I mean is, do you know how to dance, and how to carry yourself in a royal court?” 
This next question catches you off guard, not truly knowing how to respond. On the one hand you do, but on the other’re technically the baker’s apprentice. Still, you look at him and nod. “I know the basics.”
“And do you know about courting practices?” He asks.
“Courting practices?” You repeat back, eyes widening slightly. Does he really mean…
“How to have someone fall in love with you, how land human weddings work, how know.” His cheeks turn red once again and you catch on to the implications of the ending of the sentence, feeling yourself heat up slightly in embarrassment.
“Yes to the first two, not to the last...skill.” Your voice breaks off in an embarrassed squeak and you cough slightly, turning away lest you let him see your discomfort.
“That’s fine!” He hastily reassures, voice colored with a sheepish tone. “I just need someone like you to teach me!”
This sparks your curiosity and you turn back to look at him in curiosity. “Teach you? For what?”
The man sighs deeply and you watch as his eyes slowly turn troubled and laden down with sadness, and the depth of his emotions has your own troubles stirring in your chest. He almost looks how you feel, almost as if you both share the same problems.
“I'm going to be wedded in four months time to a princess I barely know.” The man confesses, and you feel your heart break at the defeat in his voice. “My father wants me to stop exploring, to stop traveling, to stop learning about the world around us. He wants me to rule in his stead.”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper softly.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs reassuringly. “I know about the politics that surrounds our kingdom and it makes sense, it’s just a part of my life.”
And mine too, you think bitterly, but you can’t confess to it now.
“Besides learning how to rule a kingdom and how to get accustomed to land life, I have to learn how to charm and woo the princess.” He explains, and you nod in understanding. “I have to learn about human courting practices and my current teacher for lessons is a man who has no charm whatsoever.”
You snort at the stranger’s blunt tone but you hum in deep thought, understanding his reasoning. “So you’re looking for someone like me to teach you?” You ask.
He shrugs in response. “Since you know so much about the castle and the areas surrounding it…”
“...I would be the best choice.” You finish, the man confirming your suspicions with a small nod.
“What do you say, miss?” He asks, tone jovial as he holds a hand up to you. “How would you like to teach me how to be a land human?”
“Well, considering I have no idea what your name even is, I’m quite hesitant.” The deadpan of your voice has your eyes opening wide, teeth hastily biting down on your tongue as you stare at the man with embarrassment. You feel heat flare up on your cheeks as the stranger’s own stare widens in shock, but before you can apologize for your blunder he begins chortling.
You feel your heart melt the slightest bit at the chuckles that escape his body, filling the air with his warmth. You find yourself relaxing at the deep sound, surprising yourself when a giggle slips past your own lips, meshing with the rich, baritone laughter that already fills the space between you two. You’ve barely spent time with him and yet he fills you with so much comfort- a feeling usually devoid in your life.
A feeling that you crave, but only if it comes from him.
The man’s laughter tapers off and he smiles widely at you, endearing indents appearing on his cheeks. “My name is Namjoon,” he says, holding his hand up to you once again.
You grin down at him and take his hand in your own, shaking once before letting go. “I’m ____.”
“Nice to meet you, ____,” Namjoon says, tail flicking out from behind him.
“Likewise,” you reply. Namjoon hums in response, clearly deep in thought.
“When shall we meet for these lessons?” He asks, and you purse your lips, racking your brain for an answer.
“How about here, every Wednesday during sunset? That way we can complete our daily tasks and I can...slip away,” you suggest, voice faltering at the very end of your sentence in a bid to remember your lie. You gulp, thinking Namjoon heard the hesitation but he nods, smiling back up at you.
“It’s a deal,” he replies.
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A week passes before you and Namjoon meet again.
The days pass by in a dull whirl- completely slow and yet filled with a flurry of activity all at once. The castle prepares itself for the wedding that’s steadily approaching in four months' time, and yet you have no say in anything. That in itself frustrates you to no end- it’s your wedding, and you can do nothing?
Yoongi tries to distract you by having you as his consultant to some diplomatic affairs he has to attend to, but you can only hear so much about the same corrupt nobleman who taxes his people too much before you start falling asleep. It’s on the third read through that Yoongi realizes that you don’t really care for his affairs, so he wakes you up with a shake on your shoulders and a small eye roll.
“What?” Your head hastily snaps up and you blink blearily, focusing back on Yoongi’s amused face.
“You fell asleep again, ____,” he deadpans, returning back to his documents. “If you’re tired, take a nap. Don’t burden yourself with being here.”
“But I want to help!” You pout, crossing your arms with a huff. Really, who does Yoongi think he is for making you leave?
Your brother looks back at you, quirking an eyebrow with a challenging glint in his eyes. “Which nobleman am I reading about right now?”
“...Jimin’s father?” Your voice is unsure and Yoongi gives a short bark of laughter, shaking his head.
“If you really think Nobleman Park is corrupt, you’ve got the wrong man,” Yoongi scoffs, reshuffling the papers on his desk. “Go and do something you actually want to do, ____,” Yoongi finishes, gesturing to the door.
You stand up with another huff, giving him the side eye as you leave.
You decide to go back to your chambers and change into a simpler dress, undoing the updo your maids had styled your hair in this morning in exchange for a simple braid. As you’re tying your hair a sudden idea formulates in your head, and you’re grabbing your flats and heading out the door in the direction of the castle’s kitchens.
You enter the warm kitchens with a smile, curtsying at the staff that greet you. You wave off their attempts to get you tea, making your way over to the tall man that stands by the oven.
“Seokjin!” You call, and the man turns around with wide eyes at your appearance.
“Princess ____!” He replies, bowing deeply. You scowl, waving him off and he snorts in response, slyly holding his hand out in a high five. You slap your hand down on his own, laughing when he shakes his hand and acts as though he’s hurt.
“What brings you down here?” He asks, turning away from you and grabbing a long wooden paddle dusted with flour. He slides the paddle into the oven and pulls out some loaves of bread, and the scent has you drooling.
“I wanted to bake,” you respond, eyes lighting up when he places the loaves of bread onto the wooden countertop. You reach your hand out towards the crust of one, but he lightly smacks your hand, causing you to pout.
“I can have you flogged for slapping me like that!” You whine, crossing your arms. Seokjin only tuts, shaking his head.
“You wouldn’t be able to because you’d be crying from the burn on your hand and in your mouth,” he retorts, placing the paddle back down onto the counter. He waves a hand at you, beckoning you to follow him and you nod, weaving your way in and out of the bustling cooks until you reach an empty counter space by a large window.
“Here you go, ____,” Seokjin says, presenting the space with an overexaggerated flourish that has you snorting. “I take it you remember where all of the ingredients are kept?”
“Yes sir, head baker.” You give him a mock salute and Seokjin rolls his eyes, though you both know that it’s all in jest. He has been Yoongi's best friend since childhood, after all.
“Don’t make me throw you out of my kitchen,” he teases, and you gasp dramatically in response, clutching your heart.
“You love me too much!” You fake weep, and Seokjin just shakes his head with a chuckle before turning away from you.
“Be careful, ____.” He says, getting ready to walk back into the jumble of people.
“I will!” You reply, before he fully disappears into the organized chaos.
You allow yourself to get immersed in baking after Seokjin’s departure- grabbing all of the necessary ingredients to make a cake of sorts. Your hands move on their own accord, pouring sugar and cracking eggs before creaming the two ingredients together. You frown down at the chocolate powder before deciding to just add it in, mixing everything together and pouring the batter into two pans and sliding them into the oven you had greeted Seokjin at.
You check on the pans every so often as you make the frosting, and when they’re ready you pull them out, balancing them in thick towels and letting them cool as you finish the frosting. It’s when you look up and realize that it’s sunset you freeze, brain trying to remember what day it is.
“Excuse me?” You ask one of the maids. Her eyes widen and she hastily begins to bow down but you shoot out your hands and stop her from bowing too deep, sick of the staff bowing down at you when they see even the barest glance of you.
“Yes princess?” She asks meekly, and you shake your head.
“You can address me as ____ down here,” you reprimand gently. “Tell me, what day is it?”
“It’s W-wednesday,” she stutters, a blush coloring her cheeks. Your eyes widen at her words.
It’s Wednesday already?
“I’m late!” You gasp, hastily pulling off your apron and placing it by the unfinished cake.
“Princess-” the maid begins, but you give her a frazzled smile before making your way out of the kitchens through a door leading to the vegetable garden. You navigate your way out of the kitchens and break out into a run towards your chambers, quickly running through the doors that lead to your gardens and not stopping your sprint until you reach your beach.
You gasp heavily, trying to regain air back into your lungs and pouting when you see Namjoon in the water, flicking his tail and looking far too amused.
“What?” You scowl, panting from the exertion.
“You’ve got something on your face, a white sort of substance. Looks like flour” He replies, and your eyes widen, hand shooting upwards to brush the flour off of your face.
“I was baking and it got all over me,” you reply, making your way onto your dock. Namjoon swims alongside you and he watches in curiosity as you sit down on the edge of the dock, flattening your skirt so that it lays evenly along the wood.
“What did you bake?” He asks, turning around so he lays on his back, looking up at the sky. You tilt your head up and smile when you see the swirls of pinks and oranges streaking across the vast expanse- sunset was always your favorite time because of how gold everything looked to you.
“Chocolate cake,” you reply, redirecting your direction back down to him. Namjoon’s face lights up when you mention the word chocolate, a giddy smile stretching across his face as he maneuvers himself back to an upright position.
“Chocolate?” He repeats, eyes crinkling happily when you nod in response.
“It’s been so long since I’ve had chocolate,” Namjoon sighs, eyes taking on a far away look as he imagines the taste of, you presume, chocolate. You can’t help but giggle when he exhales blissfully, lips curling up to a lazy smile.
“How long?” You prod. Namjoon hums in thought, before returning his attention back to you.
“About...five years,” he admits. You feel your eyes widen in shock- five years?
“Really?” You blurt out, and Namjoon nods.
“Really,” he confirms. “I left home when I was eighteen to explore the world around me because it was my dream. Whether with a naval boat or by swimming to a destination- it didn’t matter to me. I just wanted to explore everything.”
“That sounds incredible,” you reply, feeling the corners of your mouth quirk up once again as he recounts his story to you. Being free was something you always craved, and hearing his story has you wanting to go on an adventure of your own.
A small detail has you pausing though, the smile on your lips slowly falling down as you ponder a small detail. “ said by naval boat or by swimming. Did know?”
Namjoon stills in response to your question, pursing his lips. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” you begin, swallowing thickly and trying to phrase your words so as to not offend him. “You’re a...mermaid of sorts. Can you...shift? Out of your form?”
To your surprise, Namjoon laughs in response. “I can! I meant it when I said I’m just as human as you are, ____. I can shift in and out of this form- all of my people can. Some people choose to stay in the ocean, some choose to live permanently on land, some like to shift back and forth.”
“And you decided on the latter,” you clarify, Namjoon nodding to your correct answer.
Still, you can’t help but wonder why he would choose to stay in this form. Surely he had a comfortable life in his own castle?
Before you can even think to shut yourself up, you’re speaking once again. “So...why stay in this form?” You find yourself asking. You see Namjoon stiffen at your question, eyes taking on a carefully guarded look as he regards you coolly.
“Why do you ask?” He asks, a touch of ice in his tone. “Can I simply not stay like this without being questioned?”
His steely indifference has you reeling- usually Namjoon is brighter and much more cheerful around you, and it’s clear that you’ve struck a nerve with him. You find yourself cursing your curiosity, pursing your lips when you see that he’s still maintained his cold facade.
“Right…” Your voice is hesitant, and yet you keep speaking. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
You see Namjoon physically relax at your apology, though his eyes take on a sad glint. “I hurt your feelings.” Namjoon states, wringing his hand in the water.
Your eyes shoot wide open at his deduction, shaking your head back and forth in a bid to get him to feel better. “No! I was just upset with myself for making you upset is all!”
“I didn’t need to be so cross with you when you were just asking a simple question, though,” Namjoon murmurs sadly. He looks up at you once again, placing a hand on his chest above the place where his heart is. “I want to apologize to you, ____.”
“No problem, Namjoon,” you reassure, smiling softly at him. “I blame my own curiosity.”
Silence befalls the two of you as you sit and ponder the events that have transpired between the two of you- processing all of the information you’ve just learned about him. It’s clear to you that Namjoon is an incredibly intelligent person, so you figure that he must really feel helpless if he’s coming to you for help.
“I stay in this form because of the freedom.” The sudden sentence has you startling, looking back down at Namjoon in surprise.
“Freedom?” You ask, and Namjoon nods.
“Being out on the sea and exploring the world around filled me with a joy I had never known before,” he recounts, eyes taking on a faraway look as he’s thrust back into the past. You sit and listen to his story, absorbed in the tapestry of his life that he weaves with the details of his adventures. “I initially did it because I wanted to be a fair ruler, just and kind to his people. I knew I would need to travel and explore to do so”
“But then,” Namjoon continues, eyes lighting up as he continues on. “I fell in love with the thrill of learning, and seeing new destinations. Meeting all of those people was...everything I ever wanted. I learned new languages, new forms of government, and I picked up the hobby of gardening along the way.”
“It sounds wonderful,” you breathe out, and Namjoon smiles at you gently.
“It is,” he replies. “I haven’t spent too much time on land for long, but I don’t know how it could match. I guess I’m just upset I’m leaving the world I know for something new and it...frightens me.”
At his admission you pause, pursuing your lips and thinking through his confession. Before you can think, you’re speaking.
“Think of it as a new adventure,” you suggest. Namjoon looks at you and you can see him tilt his head in confusion, but before he can ask another question you’re continuing on. “There’s much to explore up here and new things to try, and you can fully connect to the people you’ll directly affect. Life here may not be the same, but that does not mean it has to be boring.”
“Do you really think so?” Namjoon asks, and you nod in response.
“Life up here is nice,” you confirm with a smile. “And from what I’ve heard of your adventures, you’ve already had a grand life out in the open. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find something beautiful up here.”
You watch as Namjoon begins to grin, eyes sparkling up at you. “If you’re any indication about the beauty of life up here...I’m suddenly not all too worried.”
“I- oh.” Namjoon’s meaning has you blushing, your body filling with shock as you fully understand the weight of his words. He carries on before you have the opportunity to sputter in embarrassment though, eyes taking on a determined glint.
“Let’s do it, ____.” Namjoon’s voice is steady, no hint of the same hesitation he had exhibited before. “I want to go up there sometime soon, with you.”
“That sounds like a plan, Namjoon,” you respond, smiling down at him.
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One and a half months.
One and a half months since you’ve been told you’re going to be wedded to a complete stranger, and you still know nothing.
You figure by now you would have been told at least his name, but for a princess who’s getting married, you’re certainly not being told much information.
And it frustrates you to the point of tears.
Your only solace right now are your weekly meetings with Namjoon. He brings light into your life and you find yourself looking forward to these meetings because it’s certainly much better than the wedding planning you’re forced to attend.
Like right now. Your father is sitting at the head of the grand table as the wedding planners squabble and you’re tucked into a corner of the table, growing more and more sick at being ignored. Yoongi isn’t here to save you- he’s off on a diplomatic mission and you’re at the point where you just want to burst.
It’s when you hear a planner refer to you as “the client” that has your anger exploding.
Everyone’s head whips around expecting to apologize profusely to your father, but what they don’t expect is the sound to come from you.
You, sitting in the unassuming corner of the table- fuming because they’re fighting about the details over your wedding without asking you, the bride of said wedding.
“Princess,” one of the planners begins, eyes wide. “Why the sudden outburst-”
“Have any of you asked me what I want from this day?” You all but spit, standing up and bracing your palms on the wood of the table. “Have any of you asked me what type of cake I wanted? Or have even told me who I’m going to be marrying?”
“Well-” Another planner tries to interrupt, but you hold your hand up, effectively silencing them.
“All I ask is that the cake is chocolate and that I know who I’m marrying, is that too much?” You try to keep the confident tone but you feel your frustration slowly tire you out, and all you want to do is leave this room and run out to your dock.
“Are we really expected to have her marry our strongest ally?” You hear one of the planners mutter under their breath, and you feel your nostrils flare, whipping to the direction of the planner. Their eyes widen when they realize they’ve been caught, but by then you’re too angry to be stopped.
“I didn’t ask to be married off to someone I don’t even know,” you all but seethe, leaning forward and staring the planner straight in the eye. They turn bright pink and begin to stammer out apologies but you scoff, rolling your eyes at them.
“All I want to know is the name of the person I’m marrying!” You all but cry, bringing a hand up to your forehead. “Is that too much to ask?”
A moment of silence passes and you cross your arms, waiting for anything.
The planners look at you unblinkingly and when it’s clear to you that they’re not going to tell you any information you laugh, curtsying sarcastically and spinning on your heels before running out of the room.
You huff to yourself as you wander aimlessly around the halls, grumbling curses under your breath. Why will they not tell you anything?
You wander the halls in a fog created by your frustration, and before you know it you find yourself standing in front of the castle’s kitchen once again. You push the door open, seeking out Seokjin and sighing in relief when you see him at the table with a quill in his hand.
“Seokjin!” You call, and he whips his head up. His eyes zero in on you and you watch as his facial features twist into surprise- you are, after all, in one of your nicer dresses.
“Princess ____,” he greets you, voice colored with the slightest hint of shock. “What brings you here?”
“I wanted to escape,” you confess. Seokjin looks at you with a frown on his face and he waves you along, guiding you back to your counter space where you first baked your cake.
“The planners are giving you a hard time?” He asks, leaning against the counter. You scoff, pushing yourself up to sit on the counter with a roll of your eyes.
“You’ve no idea,” you grumble. “They won’t tell me who I’m marrying! I would ideally like to know the man who I’m going to be bound to.”
“Sounds mysterious and messy,” Seokjin muses, lips quirking up in a teasing smirk when you glare at him. “I’m joking!”
“I’m sure you are,” you quip, sighing and running your fingers through your hair.
“Well,” Seokjin says, making his way to the cold room attached nearby. “You have a cake you left undecorated from yesterday, and you look like you need the stress relief.”
“Thank you,” you breathe out, and he nods and walks into the cold room. Minutes pass before he comes back out with the cakes you baked as well as the chocolate icing in its bowl, and he plops the ingredients down.
“No problem,” Seokjin responds. He reaches out and holds your hand softly, and you squeeze back. You and Seokjin may have a mostly joking relationship but you truly appreciate him and look up to him as another older brother- his support has helped you through many dark times, and him and Yoongi have been your rocks.
“I’ll leave you to it, ____.” You smile at Seokjin when he brushes a kiss on the back of your hand and he makes his way away from your space, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a cake that needs to be assembled.
So you do. You frost the cake with steady hands, lips pursed in thought as you add decorative piping all around the border. Time flies as you add various confections to the cake, and by the time you’ve finished decorating the sun is beginning its descent into the horizon.
You bite your lip and look down at the cake when a sudden idea strikes. You call over a maid and she helps you pack the cake up inside of a basket along with plates and cutlery, and before you know it you’re making your way out to your chambers. You change out of your clothes and tuck an old blanket under your arm before you continue your trek to your dock.
Once you arrive you lay the blanket down flat and pull out the cutlery, opening the cake. You’re cutting into the cake when you hear Namjoon’s telltale splash and just hearing the noise has your lips turning up into a grin. You turn around and you feel the grin turn into a full smile when you see Namjoon greet you with the bright smile you’ve grown to become soft for.
“Hello, ____,” he greets.
“Hi Namjoon!” You reply, returning your attention back to the cake in front of you. You balance a piece precariously on the serving knife before placing it on the plate and settling it back down on the floor of the dock. “I made chocolate cake, would you like some?”
“Chocolate?” You hear him gasp. You turn around and a laugh slips from your lips when you see his eyes bright with excitement, lips agape.
“Mhm,” you hum, placing the plate in front of his body. He braces his forearms on the dock and breathes in the scent, a smile forming across his face when he takes a deep whiff of the rich scent.
You pick up a fork and wipe at the tinges, continuing on with your thoughts. “I remember you said that you hadn’t had chocolate in some years so I thought I would bring some to you today.” You finish cleaning the fork and you turn around, ready to pass him the fork. You stop, however, when you see the sheer emotion painted on his features. His lips are turned back down in a soft ‘o’ and his eyes have taken on wondrous shine, looking almost...touched.
“You thought of me?” He asks, and you feel your heart flutter in your chest when your eyes directly meet.
“Yes,” you reply easily, clearing your throat. You look down at the fork in your hand and hastily thrust it in his direction, a blush beginning to form on your face. “Here! Have some.”
“Thank you, ____.” Namjoon says softly, and he reaches over in order to take the fork from you. During the exchange your hands meet his, and you feel your face heat up further at the sensation of your skin sliding alongside each other. You definitely don’t want to create a false reality in your head or project your budding feelings on to him, but he definitely lingered and you can’t help but want to feel more of his skin against your own.
You reluctantly pull away and pick up the serving knife once again, cutting yourself a slice and plopping the piece of cake onto your own plate. You pick up a fork and bite into the confection, frowning when you notice that the cake has gone slightly dry. You should really figure out how to-
“____, this cake is amazing.” The sudden sentence has you startling and you whip your head around to look at Namjoon, who’s gazing down dreamily at his plate. “Probably the best I’ve had.”
“Oh please!” You scoff, though you cannot help but preen with pride at his praise. “This was a kind of a stress relief cake for me. The palace is preparing for a wedding, and everyone is running amok because of it.”
“Oh, you’re having a wedding too?” Namjoon asks, placing his fork down onto the plate. You bite your lip and place your own utensil down, staring down at the water and watching Namjoon’s tail flick and swim around in the water as you remind yourself to not expose who you truly are.
“Yes,” you say, eyes taking on a faraway look as you remember your own stressors. “I am- well, the princess in the castle is preparing to get married to a prince. We’re all in shambles. The preparations are something else.”
“It sounds stressful,” Namjoon muses. “Much more high maintenance than our weddings.”
This piques your interest, and you find yourself looking back up at him in curiosity. “Tell me about some of your customs?”
“Well,” Namjoon begins, tilting his head up as he wracks his brain. “There’s always the first swim. When a couple is bonded, they go on a swim together the night of their unity. And then they come back and watch the sunrise together, symbolizing the dawn of their married life.”
“That’s beautiful,” you murmur. You can’t help but imagine it- watching the sun rise as your lover holds you. It fills you with a warmth and you desperately find yourself wanting to do it for your own wedding, but you don’t even know if your groom would even be up for it.
“What about you?” Namjoon asks. You bite your lip, trying to find a custom and feeling your eyes widen when you think of one.
“When one wants to marry another, they present a ring as a way of asking. The ring symbolizes unity in love and they place it on the fourth finger of their left hand.” You hold your hand up and wiggle your finger, Namjoon nodding in understanding as a thoughtful look overcomes his face.
Moments pass as you both digest your respective practices, and you hum to break up the silence, picking your cake back up. “There are many other practices, that’s just the most symbolic one.”
“How strange of humans, confessing their love with just a small piece of jewelry around a finger.” Namjoon says in response, dipping his finger into the icing of the cake. “In our wedding customs, the one who wishes to confess their undying love makes a necklace with as many pearls and bits of precious sea glass as they can find. It’s a labor of love and goes to prove one's devotion for a person.”
“That’s incredibly romantic.” You murmur, feeling your lips tilt upwards at the idea of being presented with a necklace so meticulously crafted that it represents one’s undying love and dedication to another. 
“It’s also incredibly time consuming,” Namjoon scoffs. “What you do with the ring sounds much more convenient.”
“Well, we also have a sort of after celebration,” you add on, taking another bite of cake. “Everyone dances and drinks.”
“Ugh, dancing.” The pure venom in Namjoon’s tone has you laughing, caught off guard by the sheer amount of hate he puts into the word.
“Do you not like dancing?” You giggle.
“I despise it,” Namjoon responds, lips settling into a straight line. “I learn from the teacher who isn’t you and it’s embarrassing for the both of us. I would much rather just read a book than learn how to waltz.”
“Well,” you say as your lips break out into a smile. “I hate to be the one to break the news to you, but dancing is integral up here.”
“Dam- oh, I’m sorry,” Namjoon hastily covers the curse with a cough, ears turning red. “I shouldn’t curse in front of a lady.”
You wave your hand in response, letting him know it’s okay. “I’m not that much of a lady.”
“If you’re not that much of a lady, I do not want to meet the princess I’m meeting,” Namjoon counters, face flushing a light pink. “Seriously, ____. You’re just so...wonderful.”
His unexpected compliment has you stuttering, eyes wide at his words. “You seriously cannot mean that, Namjoon.”
“I do,” he confirms, no ounce of hesitation in his voice. “You’re the best person up here, truly.”
Your heart races at his statement, warmth once again spreading throughout your entire being. It only reinforces your budding feelings for him and the realization that there is an expiration date on your relationship has you swallowing thickly.
He’s promised to a princess and you’re promised to another prince, and you know that this will only end in heartache and pain.
Still, you squash down that evil voice in the back of your head and smile brightly at him, indulging in the fantasy where you can be his.
“You’re easily one of the best people I’ve met, Namjoon,” you counter, smiling down at him. “And your princess is lucky to have you.”
“Well, she won’t be thinking that when she realizes I’m a total idiot on land,” Namjoon mumbles, eyes turning downcast. “I haven’t interacted with anyone else besides you, and I can’t even dance properly.”
“I’m sorry, Joon.” The nickname slips out without a thought, and you only feel yourself freeze when you realize just what you said. You feel your heart beat faster in your cage, but to your surprise, Namjoon smiles at the nickname, a light blush dusting across his cheeks.
“It’s okay,” he soothes.
Still, you want him to feel more comfortable on land- and that’s when an idea strikes you.
“Come up here and explore the town square with me.” The words are filled with excitement and Namjoon looks up at you in confusion, fork laden with cake halfway to his lips.
“Come again?” He asks, clearly confused. You exhale in amusement and shake your head.
“Come explore with me,” you propose, your mind already racing with ideas of where you can take Namjoon. “I’ll take you around town. You can meet some people and grow more accustomed to being on land.”
“I don’t know about that, ____,” Namjoon begins, uncertainty taking over his features. “What if-”
“No what if’s.” You say softly, and before you can think you’re reaching out and gently squeezing his hand. “I’ll be right there next to you, you’ll be okay.”
You see Namjoon hesitate and you realize now that you practically grabbed his hand. You gulp and make a move to pull away but Namjoon laces your fingers before you can fully pull away, squeezing tightly.
“Can I trust that you won’t leave my side?” He asks, the slightest bit of fear tainting his tone.
“I won’t leave your side,” you promise.
Namjoon looks down at your entwined fingers and nods to himself, almost as if in thought. You know you’ve gotten your answer when he squeezes your hand once again and you grasp on tightly back, 
“All right, I trust you,” he says, voice sure. “Let’s go on land.”
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You really do owe Yoongi his favorite coffee cake some time.
With the wedding approaching quickly, you have not been able to escape as much as you used to- what with needing to try on your dress, learn your waltz, and attend endless meetings where your opinion isn’t even valued. You’re sure you would have gone mad by now, if not for Yoongi giving you the go ahead to sneak off.
Especially with your planned outing with Namjoon today.
And all you needed to do was show up frazzled and vaguely worried. The moment Yoongi laid eyes on you, he shook his head and said with a booming voice: “Princess ____ does not feel well. Wedding planning cancelled, we shall pick up tomorrow.”
The planners had left without so much a grumble, pleased with the prospect of a day off. Yoongi approaches where you stand by the door and reaches out to your hand, squeezing your palm and nodding at the door before whispering “Go.”
“Thank you,” you murmur back, and Yoongi flashes you one of his rare gummy smiles before you turn and run, back to your quarters and changing your clothes hastily. You pick up some key items along the way before you’re running out past your garden and towards your dock, only to pause at the threshold. 
Because Namjoon is at the shoreline of the beach, standing on the sand.
His back is to you so you take the time to appreciate his build, corded muscles flexing underneath the sleeves of his shirt and waist emphasized by the royal blue waistcoat he has on. Your eyes trail past his hands, which hold his shoes and socks. His pants hug his thighs and you find yourself blushing at the sight of his firm behind, hastily redirecting your mind and your gaze down his thick thighs and calves all the way down to his bare feet, where his toes wiggle on the wet sand.
“This” Your voice is wondrous and you watch as Namjoon turns around, face flushing at your unannounced presence.
“Is new a bad thing?” He asks, biting his lip. You slip off your flats and make your way over to where he stands, feeling heat prickle in your stomach when you realize just how big he is compared to you.
“New is always good,” you reply, stamping down on the flaring heat that’s building in the pit of your stomach and smiling when you see the collar of his waistcoat slightly askew. You reach up and straighten the fabric, pressing your palms to his chest and smoothing the crease until it lays flat.
“T-thank you,” Namjoon stutters, and it’s only then do you realize how close you’re standing to him. You flush and cough hastily, pulling away in a flash.
“No problem,” you whisper, averting your eyes from his own embarrassed stare. You look down at your hands and notice the basket in your hands, so you reach inside and pull out a small velvet bag.
You look back up at Namjoon and hold the bag in front of his face, shaking and letting him hear the jingle from inside. “These are some of my savings. You have free rein to purchase what you choose- bread, cake, chocolate, anything material. Here, take it.”
You place the bag in Namjoon’s hands and you watch his brow furrow as he pulls at the drawstring, only for his eyes to widen when he realizes just how much money is in the bag. “____! I can’t take this, the money is yours-”
“And I’m offering it to you,” you gently cut him off, smiling up at his shocked face. “I saved up for it, don’t worry Namjoon.”
You see him hesitate, before he nods and places the bag in his pocket. He returns his attention back to the basket you carry, and you open the top of the basket to let him see what you’re carrying.
“That’s a lot of bread and spare coins ____,” Namjoon says. You begin to walk back to stable land, Namjoon following suit and trailing behind you slowly.
“I give bread and money out to those who might need it,” you reply, sliding your feet back into your flats. You watch as Namjoon bends down and clumsily pulls on his socks before sliding his shoes, taking the time to double knot the laces before standing upright once again.
“That’s kind of you,” he muses, and you hum as you make your way back to the castle. You feel yourself freeze, however, when you realize that the way back passes by your bedroom.
“What is it?” Namjoon asks, and you bite your lip as you try and think of a path you can take to not blow your cover.
You feel yourself light up when you remember a path you can take.
“Follow me!” You declare with confidence, beckoning him to the direction you want him to follow. You lead him past the entrance of your quarters, taking a small path that leads to the side of the kitchens and, consequently, can serve as your entrance to the town square.
You bite your lip as you pass by the side door, hoping Seokjin doesn’t peek his head through the window. You sigh in relief when he doesn’t and soon enough you and Namjoon find yourselves staring down the road that leads you to the heart of town square. You set off to walk along the path but before you can make your own way down, a soft hand catches hold on your elbow. You turn around to see Namjoon with a light blush on his face, looking almost…sheepish.
“My teacher told me to never let my companion walk alone,” he says bashfully, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. “Here, ____.”
You blink as he offers you his elbow, and you feel yourself blush when your brain finally connects two and two- looping your arm around Namjoon’s and delicately placing your palm against the crook of his arm. Namjoon hums in satisfaction and you two begin your silent yet comfortable walk to the town square.
The townspeople are bustling around here and there, children weaving through the crowd as they chase after a small fluffy dog. Their peals of laughter fill the air and you can’t help but smile at the vivacious atmosphere- so different from your solitude inside of the castle.
You look up at Namjoon’s face and you feel yourself soften at the scared yet curious look on his face, eyes alert and scanning the area around him. He feels so tense and you squeeze at his arm, drawing him back to the present.
“It’s okay,” you soothe, Namjoon relaxing slightly when he realizes you’re next to him. “I’m not leaving your side, I promise.”
Namjoon swallows thickly and nods at you with a tight smile. You give him another reassuring grin before guiding him over to one of the many stalls that line the sides of the square.
The first stall you stop by is filled with many different fruits- ripe mangoes, firm baking apples, and the finest berries all lined up in little baskets. You smile at the kindly old man running the stand and pick up a mango, squeezing the flesh and determining if it’s ripe enough for purchase. You frown when you feel that the mango is hard, and you turn to see Namjoon looking at a mango of his own. He smiles in triumph after he squeezes the fruit, looking back at you and giving you a thumbs up.
“This one’s good for consumption, ____,” he says with a smile, placing the fruit in your hands back in a basket. He passes the mango to you with a nod before turning around and examining another basket- this time filled with strawberries. He peers down before beginning to pick a select handful and passing them over to your hands.
“You can tell strawberries are ripe based on the shape of their leaves and if they’re turned up or not,” Namjoon informs with a small grin as you look at him quizzically.
“No, it’s the seeds,” you argue back, brows furrowing. “You can tell the ripeness of the strawberries from the color of the seeds.”
“For some varieties, maybe,” Namjoon concedes, though he looks at you with a teasing smirk. “This variety is definitely whether the leaves are turned up or not.”
“He’s right,” the vendor says, mirth in his eyes as Namjoon lets out a triumphant sound. “The berries with the leaves turned up are considered sweeter and more ripe.”
“I told you,” Namjoon says smugly, and despite the annoyance you feel you cannot help but smile at how comfortable and at ease he seems now.
“He has quite an eye for these things,” the vendor says with a smile as you hand him the fruit, Namjoon blushing at his words.
“He really does,” you reply with a smile, reaching into the sack of coins you have in your hand. You make a move to hand the currency over to the vendor but Namjoon beats you to it, placing his own coins into the vendor’s waiting hand.
“I had that!” You exclaim, glaring playfully at him.
“What kind of companion would I be if I had my lady pay?” He counters, and the title he gives you has you sputtering.
“I-“ you begin, but the vendor cuts you off.
“You two are just a darling, wonderful couple,” the vendor gushes. The unexpected compliment has you flushing, Namjoon’s ears turning red at the tips. Not noticing your sudden embarrassment, the vendor continues.
“You remind me of my wife and I back when we were young.” The vendor’s voice takes on a reminiscent tone before he turns around and smiles brightly at the both of you. The vendor gestures to Namjoon and he places his mouth next to his ear before whispering exaggeratedly loud, “Treat her well, she’s the most precious pearl retrieved from the toughest clam to open.”
“I will,” Namjoon says seriously, before looping your arm through his own and leading you away from the fruit stall in a daze.
“He was nice,” Namjoon comments easily as you both stop in front of a stall selling books. You snap out of your daze and look at him with wide eyes, only for you to register his words and nod hastily.
“He is,” You blurt out in a bid to seem in the moment and not like you were reliving Namjoon calling you his just a few moments ago.
“What does darling mean, ____?” He asks as he picks up a book, inspecting the title and the author.
“Oh…” your voice trails off as you try to remember the meaning. “It means precious, I guess. It’s a sort of pet name given to one’s significant other.”
“Darling…” Namjoon says the word with such care and reverence, almost as if he’s tasting the word. He looks at you thoughtfully before nodding to himself, reaching into his coin purse once again and paying the book vendor. “It suits you.”
“What does?” You ask as he loops your arm around his again, this time with you leading him to another stall nearby.
“Darling,” he replies easily.
You feel your skin heat up at his words- not out of embarrassment but out of giddiness. Hearing him refer to you as darling has your insides melting, the endearing pet name tasting like the sweetest chocolate to you. It makes you feel so special, and knowing that it’s Namjoon’s nickname for you has you preening on the inside.
This thought becomes soured when you realize that he’s getting married to a princess in one and a half month’s time, but before your thoughts can spiral into negativity Namjoon brings you to his attention.
“____!” He says, and you look up to see him holding a brilliant sunflower in his hands with a smile that rivals the bright yellow petals on the flower. “Do you like this flower?”
You bite your lip at his question to contain the smile that’s threatening to spread across your face. In truth, sunflowers are your most favorite flowers and seeing the person who’s rapidly making a home in your heart hold your favorite flower has you cooing on the inside.
And so you tell him. “They’re my favorite.”
Namjoon’s eyes light up at this information and before you can blink he’s purchasing a bouquet and pushing it into your hands. “Take it!” He encourages, his smile so wide and bright that it rivals the bright yellow petals of the flowers he holds.
It’s in this moment where you realize with a sinking heart that your feelings for Namjoon run deeper than you imagine. Seeing him holding your favorite flowers in his hand has your heart speeding up, and you decide to push away the information that he’s betrothed to someone else and allow yourself to call him yours, even if it’s only for this one time.
You accept the flowers with a smile, breathing in deeply and sighing in content. “Thank you, Namjoon.”
“You’re welcome, darling,” he murmurs with a soft, indescribable look in his eyes. This time when he reaches out, he doesn’t loop your arms together- he instead laces his fingers in between your own. You relish in the feel of his appendages sliding in between yours, and you allow him to pull you to the next stall.
You spend the rest of the day with him by your side, wandering along the marketplace and even ducking into some of the more expensive shops in the square. At one point while you were looking through the fine teacup stall Namjoon disappeared from your line of sight, but before you could fully worry he had returned, slightly out of breath and shoving something hastily in his pocket.
“What did you buy?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you.
“Nothing,” he mumbles, and you only quirk an eyebrow at him before letting him off the hook.
It’s when you look up at the sky do you realize it’s approaching late afternoon- the time you and Namjoon agreed to split off. With the stalls closing down for the evening, you and Namjoon begin to walk back to your private beach, never letting go of each other’s hands the entire way back.
Your heart is heavy as you both walk back to your dock, Namjoon swinging your hands in between your bodies and humming a soft tune that has your heart clenching painfully. You so selfishly want this moment to stretch out into eternity, but you know that it is an impossible wish.
When you reach your dock he drops your hand, placing all of the things he bought into a bag he had brought his clothes in. You turn away as he strips from his clothes and dives into the sea from your dock, and you turn back around when you see that he’s fully transformed into his preferred form. You begin to wave goodbye to him but he holds up his hand to you and you hold your hand out to him, allowing him to pull it closer to his face.
“Thank you for today, darling,” he breathes softly, pressing the softest kiss on the back of your hand. Your cheeks heat up at the tender action but you feel a smile stretch across your face, heart warm.
“You’re welcome, Joon,” you murmur back. He smiles brightly at the nickname and pulls away, preparing to swim away.
You can only stand there as he parts ways from you with a gentle press between your interlocked hands before swimming away, and as you watch him swim away into the vast sea do you come to the sinking realization that your feelings run too deep for Namjoon, but he won’t be yours to call your own.
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This is dumb, and you know it.
And yet you cannot help but bring your picnic basket with you once again, except you’re sitting on a blanket at the shoreline instead of being situated on your usual dock. Your arms are around your legs as you stare off into the slowly setting sun, the waves reflecting the orange of the sky and making you feel at peace.
You can’t help but want Namjoon sitting next to you, though. You made chocolate cake again and you couldn’t help but bring it along with you, knowing Namjoon loves the sweet taste.
You cannot help but feel foolish though- it’s a Tuesday instead of your designated meeting day of Wednesday. Why are you out here? You should be trying on your wedding gown and feeling miserable, not staring off at the sunset and desperately wishing that Namjoon would show up.
It’s as though your prayers are answered though, because you see Namjoon’s head break out from underneath the surface of the water. You watch him scan the area, and your eyes widen when he makes eye contact with you. The apprehension in your chest fades away into blissful content, however, when you see his smile come onto his face.
How you love his smile.
“____!” He calls out, waving his hand in a show of greeting. You wave back and beckon him to come over to the shoreline. You see him nod before he begins swimming over to the shallow waters just a couple of inches away from you.
“What brings you here?” He asks when he’s close enough. You swallow thickly at the way his skin glimmers under the sun due to the water droplets on his chest, and you look away hastily so as to not to turn yourself into a flushed, desirous mess.
“I made chocolate cake again,” you say, gesturing to the spread you had laid out on the blanket. “I wanted to stop by if there was a chance of you coming over and luckily, I caught you.”
“You’re the best,” Namjoon gushes, smiling at you sweetly and making your heart race. “Let me dry off, I want to sit next to you.”
“Oh!” You protest, holding your hands out to stop him. “You don’t need to change out-”
“I don’t need to but I want to,” he counters, and before you can say anything else he’s swimming off and diving to somewhere else.
You allow yourself to stare off into the horizon as you wait for him to return, and when you hear footsteps on the sand you look up to see him dressed in a simple cotton shirt and brown pants, walking barefoot towards you. You scoot over on your blanket and allow him to plop down next to you, thighs just barely touching due to your close proximity.
Namjoon sighs contently, stretching out his arms and bracing his palms along the space behind him. What you don’t expect is for his hand to land on top of yours and you squeak, making a move to pull away. He stops you, however, and before you can do or say anything he’s pulling both of your hands onto his lap and rubbing his thumb in small circles on the skin of the back of your hand.
“Is this okay?” He asks softly, and you feel yourself heat up once again at his deep, husky voice.
“I- I need to get your cake,” you all but sputter out, tripping over your words due to just how nervous he makes you. Namjoon lets go of your hand and you make a move to slice and hand him the cake before you pick up your own slice, digging into the confection without looking him in the eye.
“Do I make you nervous, darling?” His voice has you startling and you look up hastily, only to glower when you see the teasing smirk spread across his face.
“Let me eat my cake in peace,” you grumble back playfully. Namjoon laughs at your embarrassment and returns his attention back to his slice of cake, taking a bite and moaning slightly at the flavor. 
“I can never get over how delicious this cake is, ____,” he praises, and you feel yourself preen a little bit at his compliment.
“Thank you, ____,” you reply bashfully, Namjoon smiling before taking another bite.
You pick up your fork to take another bite, opening your mouth and anticipating the flavor of the cake to spread across your flavor palette. What you don’t expect, however, is for Namjoon’s own cake laden fork to be put into your mouth. You let Namjoon feed the cake to you, surprise making your eyes go wide as Namjoon’s face turns red at being caught.
“I wanted to see if my teacher’s flirting skills were true,” he said sheepishly, taking his fork back and dropping it onto the plate. He reaches up to scratch the back of his head bashfully, and you smile at him in response.
“He teaches you about flirting?” You ask, and Namjoon nods.
“For my future wife.” Namjoon says, and suddenly the cake in your mouth tastes like ash.
Of course, for his future wife.
“Did it work?” He asks, and you bite your lip, not wanting to say yes.
“Depends on if you’re going to use it or not,” you shoot back.
“Only on you,” he quips back, and you feel your stomach fill with butterflies.
You set your cake down on the empty space beside you and turn your attention back to the sun that’s setting on the horizon, leaving streaks of pink and purple in its wake and casting the area around you and Namjoon in a soft golden hue. You know that your time with Namjoon is almost running out- as your wedding slowly approaches you feel your heart crack just the tiniest bit at losing Namjoon. You can’t help but curse your own stupidity as well- you knew this was going to end up the way that it would and yet, you fell in love with him.
“What? What is it ____?” Namjoon’s voice breaks out of your bittersweet thoughts and you turn away from the setting sun to smile at him softly, standing up and brushing the sand off of your skirt before offering him a hand.
“Come,” you offer, wiggling your hand at him. “Let me teach you how to waltz.”
Namjoon gulps at your proposition, eyes flickering between your hand and his legs. “You know, the people of my kingdom do not need to know how to dance as there’s no need for it-”
“And you said yourself that you are marrying a land human princess,” you cut him off gently, thrusting your hand in front of his face. “Come and dance with me, waltzing is much easier than the lessons we call conversations.”
You hear Namjoon mumble something inarticulate under his breath and you giggle softly at the bashful look on his face, watching as his ears slowly turn pink. “Forgive me if I step on your toes, ____.”
“I could never be mad at you for that, Joon.” The nickname slips out of your lips before you even think and it’s clear that Namjoon notices your mistake as well, but he just flashes you a smile and accepts your hand, standing up and holding your hands in his.
“We have no music, Miss ____,” he pointedly notes, but you shake your head at his observation.
“While music is an important part of the dance, it is key that you know the rhythm and the basic steps,” you say as you gently place one of Namjoon’s hands on your waist and your hand on his shoulder. “Once you know those two components, dancing is as easy as reading.”
“I believe I would much rather prefer reading to dancing,” he quips as you guide him into the first position.
“Well, that makes two of us,” you tease as you begin moving your feet, urging him along. “Waltzes are in written in a three meter, so you just count one, two, three, one, two, three, and then repeat-”
“One two three one two three-” you hear Namjoon mumble under his breath as he clumsily begins to follow along, feet lightly stumbling alongside yours as you try your best to lead him in a circle with your steps.
“You’ve got it!” You encourage as he gradually relaxes into the count, beginning to take the lead. You gladly let him take the reins and, before you know it, you’re humming your favorite waltz as he leads you along.
“I must say, I stand corrected. This is actually much more enjoyable than reading by myself.” He murmurs as he gently leads you along in the sand to the tune you hum, fingers squeezing softly at your waist and pulling you the slightest bit closer. Your breath hitches in your chest at the sudden closeness- if you close your eyes, you can feel his breath wash over your face.
“We’ve yet to learn spins and dips,” you reply breathlessly, face flushing when his eyes take on a mischievous gleam. “A-and, lifts too-”
“Is that so, darling?” He gives you a smirk as his hand pulls at your waist before wrapping his arm around your body. You yelp and your fingers tighten on his shoulders but he gives you a comforting squeeze, placating you. “Keep humming and trust me.”
“I trust you.” You return to where you left off on your waltz, humming as you feel Namjoon brace his arm around your waist before he lifts you effortlessly, making you gasp. The hand that rests on his shoulder pushes the rest of your body up higher as he spins around, and you point your toes and land daintily in the sand as he gently sets you down, continuing the same pattern you taught him.
“You’re quite good at that,” you gasp, words breathy from how easily he lifted you. His face tinges red but he smiles softly as he continues leading you along with your waltz.
“I have an excellent teacher,” he replies, pressing his forehead against your own. You feel your eyes begin to slip shut as he slowly stops the waltz, simply relishing in his presence.
“____...please look at me.” His voice is husky and deep and you bite the inside of your cheek, letting your eyes open. You gasp when you see how close he is to you, noses brushing and eyes holding an emotion that leaves you breathless.
“Joonie,” you murmur softly. His hands move to settle on your waist and you wind your arms around his neck, pulling him down so that your lips are almost touching.
“Darling,” he says back gently, brushing his nose affectionately against your own. “May I?”
The word is scarcely out of your mouth before he leans down and presses his lips softly against yours, rendering you breathless. You welcome the feeling, pouring all of the emotions you feel for Namjoon into the gentle, almost reverent kiss. It’s as though time stops- you forget that he’s promised to another and you have your own wedding to worry about. Namjoon is yours and you are his, and it feels as though you can fly from that high, giddy feeling alone.
He pulls away and brushes his nose against yours once again, smiling sweetly. “Darling,” he murmurs.
“Joonie,” you smile back.
“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, eyes warm and soft. You nod once again and he’s swooping you back into a kiss, as soft as ever and having you fall for him more and more.
It’s almost enough to drown out the sinking realization in your chest that you need to end this soon.
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You’re in too deep, and you don’t know how to get out.
You’re in love with Namjoon.
Namjoon, the only person in the world who understands you.
Namjoon, a prince who’s betrothed to another while you yourself are promised to someone else.
Namjoon, who believes that you’re a member of the castle’s kitchen staff when in actuality, you’re a princess.
A princess who’s getting married in two day’s time.
How in the world are you going to get out of this situation?
You’re sitting at your dock pondering these questions, heart aching and head racing with what you’re going to say to him. You’re in your white chemise as it’s nighttime and almost time for bed, hair in messy rivers down your back and toes in the water as you ponder between the options of telling Namjoon the truth or breaking his heart.
And you don’t like the outcome of either situation.
“Darling, why the pout?”
You look down and see Namjoon by the wooden post of your dock, tail swishing in the water. The blue scales glimmer brilliantly under the moonlight and you’re transported back all those months ago when you first met him and he saved you from drowning- the beginning of your love for him.
“I’m just thinking, Namjoon,” you reply, smiling softly. You reach down so he can hold your hand but he shakes his head, opening his arms and beckoning for you to jump down.
“Come here, I want to hold you.” Your eyes widen at his request, shaking your head.
“I can’t,” you say lamely, looking away from him. “I can’ know, swim well.”
“I’ll catch you,” he begins, reaching out to grasp your calf and squeezing the skin gently. “And I promise I will never let you go.”
You bite your lip, feeling the fight leave your body already. You could never say no to him, even if you tried. “Alright, I trust you.”
You brace your palms against the wood, pointing your toes before pushing yourself fully off the dock and landing with a splash in the water. You close your eyes and relish in the cold surrounding you, but before you can panic at the sinking feeling you feel Namjoon’s arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you up from underneath the water and into his embrace.
“Hello, ____.” He murmurs dulcetly, giving you a swift peck on your cheek. Despite your inner turmoil you can’t help but giggle softly, eyes softening when you see the way Namjoon’s looking at you.
“Hi, Joonie.” You end your statement with a kiss on his nose, and he exhales in amusement at your display of affection. “How was your day, was swimming hard with the currents?”
“No,” he replies as he massages at your sides. “I had to dry off and practice dancing, though. Not as fun without you, but I’m getting the hang of it.”
“That’s always a good thing!” You chirp happily, pride swelling in your chest at Namjoon’s improvement. Namjoon gives you a smile before pressing his forehead against yours, making you gasp at the sudden close proximity.
“How about you, darling?” Namjoon asks softly, brushing his nose against yours.
“I’ war with myself,” you admit quietly, feeling your heart begin to beat a little faster out of nervousness.
“And why is that?” He prods, tilting his head to the side and giving you a little kiss. You pull away and bite your lip, looking away.
“Well, Namjoon-” you begin, but he promptly cuts you off.
“Would a gift help you feel better?” He questions, eyes wide. You feel your eyes widen, apprehension beginning to course through your veins. 
You need to end this now.
“Namjoon-” You try to begin again, but he presses his lips against yours, and you can’t help but melt in the feeling of his mouth making soft, gentle movements against your own.
Namjoon pulls away slightly, and you allow yourself to relish in the feeling of his breath washing over your face. “I actually wanted to give you something,” he murmurs against your lips, and you promptly feel your heart sink in your chest.
“Namjoon,” you begin, glancing up at the rising moon in order to gain courage before returning your attention back to his face. “I need to-”
“No, no complaints!” He hushes you swiftly with a peck on your lips. “I’m going to move us to shore, look away while I dry off?”
“I- okay,” you finally concede. He grins down at you and adjusts the hold he has on you. You wrap your arms firmly around his neck, resting your head against his chest and you feel the way his heart begins to speed up slightly, but you pretend you don’t notice so as to not embarrass him further. 
“Hold on tight, darling.” He whispers softly, tucking your hair behind your ear and placing a soft kiss against the crown of your forehead.
“Always.” With that single word Namjoon grasps your body tighter within his hold, and you close your eyes as he begins to swim the both of you to shore.
Once you feel the softness of sand against your back you allow yourself to peel your body away from Namjoon’s, walking onto shore and turning your back to him so that he may dry off properly and acquire the clothes hidden by the dry dock post.
You feel your eyelids droop heavily before slowly shutting as you hear him hum to himself, fatigue beginning to blur your senses. The wedding rehearsals have been stressful and you’ve wanted nothing more than to hide yourself away from your father and the entire commotion of the castle, but when you do have the chance to escape the chaos you’re met with the fear of telling Namjoon the truth about you.
Needless to say, you have not been getting a good night’s rest these past couple of days- perhaps even weeks.
You hear Namjoon make his way over to you, and despite your racing thoughts you can’t help but smile when he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his body so that your back is flush with his chest. “Hi again, darling. Are your eyes closed?”
“Mmm.” The soft hum reverberates through the air as you relish in the feel of Namjoon’s strong arms around you, though you shiver involuntarily when you feel his lips ghost against the column of your neck.
“So...I have a gift for you,” he says softly, gently turning your body around so that your head rests against the place on his chest where his heart beats. “But you’re only allowed to open your eyes when I say so, understood?”
“Yes, Joonie,” you reply with surety, making sure to keep your eyes closed. You hear Namjoon’s breath hitch in amusement at your trust, and you smile when you feel his lips skim in between your eyebrows. You hear his pockets rustle as you grip at his shoulders, and his hand gently cups at your cheek before pulling him away from his chest.
“Alright darling. Open.”
Your eyes drift open at his soft command, and you look down at the beautiful strand of beads he holds gently in his hand. You recognize the opalescent glint of sea pearls that make up the majority of the strand, but there are also curious, smooth spheres that glimmer beneath the moonlight, casting colored light all within Namjoon’s hand.
“It’s beautiful,” you breathe out, eyes welling up with tears.
“Take it, look at it,” Namjoon urges softly, gently placing the strand within your hold before cupping your hands with his own palms.
You gently turn the precious beads around, examining the craftsmanship and clear love that went into this accessory. It must have cost a fortune to even find all of these pearls, not to mention the process of assembling them into this delicate piece. Your heart clenches painfully in your chest, however, at the implications.
What does this mean?
It’s as though Namjoon reads your mind, grabbing hold of the piece once again and moving his hand so it gently cups at your chin, having you look up at his bashful stare. “Do you remember that one day where we were talking about mermaid wedding customs versus human wedding customs?”
You purse your lips before you finally register what he’s referencing. You nod, letting your mind transport you back to that moment. You were sitting on the dock with Namjoon lazing about in the water, teaching each other about the customs of love so that he would know how to woo his betrothed on the day he finally met her.
“How strange of humans, confessing their love with just a small piece of jewelry around a finger.” He had mused. “In our wedding customs, the one who wishes to confess their undying love makes a necklace with as many pearls and bits of precious sea glass as they can find. It’s a labor of love and goes to prove one's devotion for a person.”
The one who wishes to confess their undying love.
Undying love.
Your eyes widen when you finally understand the implication of what he’s trying to tell you.
Namjoon loves you.
You feel your heart sing for just a single second, a smile slipping onto your face as you glance up at the soft look he gives you before returning your gaze back down at the necklace. The pearls wink underneath the moonlight and you indulge in the fantasy of letting Namjoon clasp it around your neck, of whisking you somewhere far away where you can live the happily ever after you want with him.
You feel your smile slowly droop, however when your reality comes crashing back down on you.
This can’t happen.
“I...can’t.” The words slip out of your lips before you can even begin to process your thoughts, and you feel Namjoon stiffen slightly.
“What do you mean, you can’t?” He gently prods. “____, I’m willing to risk it all for you-”
“But I cannot.” You interrupt him, dread beginning to course through your veins. Your body has made its decision before your mind can even comprehend what you’re about to do, pulling yourself away from Namjoon’s grasp and standing away from him.
“____?” Namjoon chuckles nervously, and you look away when you see his features begin to show signs of hurt. You don’t want to see him in pain because of you. “I must admit, this is worrying me. What is it?”
“Namjoon…” You hesitate, crossing your arms across your chest in a weak attempt of forming a shield to hide your heart. “I have been dishonest with you.”
Namjoon scoffs in a lighthearted manner, though you don’t miss the way his eyes flash with worry. “What do you mean?”
“I’m promised to another.”
Silence settles in between the both of you as he processes your words. You bite your lip and avert your gaze, unable to watch Namjoon come to terms with the meaning of your confession.
“This has to be a joke, right ____?” Namjoon’s voice is tinged with the slightest hint of pain and you feel your eyes begin to burn at the hurt in his tone. “Please, you can’t-”
“It is not a joke.” You reply, your heart beginning to race as confessions spill past your lips. “I’m not a part of the kitchen staff and I’m not the baker’s apprentice.”
“No- no. This must be some sort of cruel jest.” Namjoon’s eyes begin to gloss over and you feel a tear slip down the corner of your eye, traveling down your cheek as he grasps at his hair, running his fingers through the silvery strands. “____-”
You swallow thickly, looking down and noting the way your hands are shaking. You ball your fists and inhale deeply before gathering as much courage as you can muster and allowing yourself to look up into his eyes.
“It’s true,” you finally choke out, unable to hide the anguish you feel. “I’m a princess, the crown princess of the country you stand on, Namjoon.”
“No.” Namjoon’s voice is filled with desperation, and you’re barely able to stifle the sob that threatens to escape your mouth. “Darling, please-” 
You ignore Namjoon’s cries, though you feel a piece of yourself slowly wither away at the crystal clear pain that’s all over Namjoon’s being. “I’m Princess Min ____ of Torina, and I am promised to another.”
“You’re the princess,” Namjoon gasps out, and you feel your heart break at the devastation that colors his tone. You look up and gasp at the way his eyes have taken on a distressed glint, turning away as you can’t handle clear anguish that’s painted on his face.
Silence befalls the space in between the both of you as you allow him to process the information you just disclosed. It’s as though the world stops- the silence is ringing in your ears and you feel your anxiety build the longer Namjoon purses his lips in thought over the truth of who you actually are and that you had deceived him.
You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you hear Namjoon exhale deeply, and you look up to face him once again. You feel tears burn once again, however, at the storm that begins to brew in his eyes.
“You’re a princess,” he says dazedly, and you watch in despair as the pain and anguish in his eyes turns into anger. “You’re the princess, and you decided to be dishonest with me?”
“I tried to be honest!” Suddenly, you feel too exposed with the way your chemise clings to your body because of the water- it almost feels like if he looked close enough, he can see your heart wildly pounding in your chest. “I wanted to tell you during that one day on the beach, but we were so happy and-”
“And yet you didn’t,” Namjoon spits bitterly, and the venom in his tone has your heart twisting painfully.
You purse your lips and run your fingers through the tangled strands of your hair, and all of a sudden you want him to hurt just as much as he’s hurting you right now.
“And what about you?” At the sudden calm in your tone Namjoon looks up, eyes widening when he sees the passive expression on your face.
“What about me?” He sputters in disbelief, running his own fingers through his hair and crossing his arms across his bare chest, hand still clutching the necklace. “I was honest with you when I told you I was a prince who was betrothed to a princess-”
“-and yet you still decided to pursue me?” You interrupt harshly, eyes beginning to water. “What were you going to do once it was time for you to be married? Make me your mistress? Break my heart? What were you going to do, Namjoon?”
“I- fuck, ____.” Namjoon begins, frustration thick in his demeanor. “I don’t know, I was going to make it up as I went-”
“So I’m only worth plans being made up as you go along the course of life?”
The hurt is evident in your tone and the sentence with all of its implications hangs thickly between the two of you. You watch as Namjoon grits his teeth, jaw flexing. The seconds tick by as Namjoon ponders your question, but you decide that he’s gone far too long without answering you.
You make a move to turn around but just as you’re about to leave, you hear him speak. “I never planned on you and...I don’t know if it was not nothing.”
You feel the stinging in your heart grow.
“Right.” You swallow thickly. “So everything that happened between us- the waltzing, the walking, the lessons and laughter we called conversations. That was nothing?”
“____,” he sighs frustratedly. “You know that’s not what I meant-”
“I should go,” you murmur, all of the fight leaving your body. You look down at your feet, suddenly wishing that the sand would swallow you whole- it would be less painful than the empty spot where your heart used to beat.
“Of course, to your prince.” Namjoon spits the words with such sarcasm that it has you tearing up; never did you expect that the relationship you have with the man that holds your heart would end like this. “Here, a pity gift.”
You don’t dare to look up as he approaches where you stand, looking only at your toes. Your eyes widen when you see the necklace he presented to you just earlier land at your feet, and you’re barely able to look up and call out his name before you watch him wade into the water and transform, swimming away without another glance.
It’s when his tail finally disappears from your field of view that you allow yourself to crumple to your knees, letting yourself cry over the display of Namjoon’s love. You reach out blindly for the pearls and when your fingers make contact with the precious beads you grasp at them, bringing the necklace up to your chest as you weep.
You had every intention of keeping Namjoon in your life, but it seems as though the only piece of Namjoon you have now is in between your fingers.
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Never in your life have you felt more broken than the days following your and Namjoon’s fallout.
The tears have been endless and you refuse to leave your bedroom, not even to welcome the King of Corarin- your future father-in-law. How could you? You’re in love with another and yet you’re forced into this loveless marriage to bind two kingdoms together.
You just want Namjoon’s arms around you.
It’s the day of your wedding ball and you’re laying in bed, clutching the pearl and sea glass necklace Namjoon had given to you in a show of his love. You know that the love there was doomed, but you’re clutching onto the last bits of his love before you force yourself to a life without it.
“Princess ____!” You hear one of your maids call through the door, and you sigh, resigning yourself to your fate.
“Yes, come in,” you call dully, sitting up and clutching Namjoon’s necklace in your hands. “Let us begin.”
And so you let them doll you up. You don’t put up the fight they had anticipated- you simply let them do what was pleased. You don’t crack a smile, don’t complain when they lace your corset over your chemise and pull your petticoats over your head- you do everything that is instructed of you.
You just never let go of Namjoon’s gift, turning the necklace over your hands.
“Come, Princess ____,” you hear one of the maids say softly, leading you over to your vanity. You nod and follow her without a thought, allowing her to sit you down so that she could finish your hair and makeup. You watch as the shadows under your eyes disappear, the redness of your nose gets blurred, your messy hair swept into ringlets that cascade down your back. 
You look beautiful, but on the inside you feel hideous.
Your father knocks on the door as the maids finish tightening your ball gown and fixing the little flowers that decorate the whole of the dress.
“You’re beautiful,” you hear your father breathe out, and you turn around to see his eyes mist with tears at the sight of you. Despite the circumstances and the ache you feel in your chest you can’t help but smile back, eyes brimming when he comes over and presses a kiss on the crown of your forehead.
“Hi,” you choke out, a tear sliding down your cheek. Your father tuts and wipes it away, and that’s when you notice the case he carries with his other arm.
“What is that?” Your father smiles at your question and presents the case to you, beckoning for you to open the golden clasp at the front.
“This was your mother’s,” he begins as you open the lid, taking in the sight of the silver crown that lays in the velvet cushion. “She always wanted to see you wear it, and I figured now would be the best time to give it to you.”
“It’s...beautiful,” you breathe out deeply. You stare at the precious gems glistening under the light, biting your lip.
There’s no way you can wear this.
“Here,” your father says, pulling the crown out of its case. “Bend down, I’ll put it on.”
You follow your father’s instructions, ducking your head gently and letting him carefully place the crown on top of the neatly styled top of your hair, brushing away the baby strands on your forehead and adjusting the weight so that it sits straight. “Perfect.”
You turn your attention back to the mirror, feeling your heart sink further at the sight of you so....regal when you feel anything but. “Thank you, father.”
“Of course.” You and your father stand in silence as you both take in your appearance, but you spot your father’s eyes dart to the necklace in your hands. You instinctively flex your fingers around the pearls and he chuckles quietly, holding out his hand.
“What are you holding?” Your father asks gently. Out of reflex you feel your fingers tighten on the pearls and your father tuts, gesturing to your hand once again. “Come, ____. Show me.”
After a bit of hesitation you finally uncurl your fingers from the pearls, and you hear your father give out an audible gasp as he takes in the pearls and sea glass.
“Where did you get this?” He asks carefully, gently picking up the strand and inspecting the work.
“I found it,” you murmur dully, sticking with the lie you thought up in your head.
“Impossible,” he breathes out. “Only the people of Corarin know how to make these, and judging by the beads and pearls...only someone of the high nobility could afford this.”
“I found it,” you repeat again sadly, and you hope to the skies that your eyes do not produce tears. “What does it matter?”
“These are meant to be given as gifts for betrothals- we were expecting one for you but the Prince of Corarin never sent one.” Your father muses softly, turning the necklace around in his hands. You feel yourself freeze at his statement before simply brushing him off, deciding that it was pure coincidence.
“Come, ____.” You look at your father and your eyes widen when you see that he’s holding the necklace by its clasps, beckoning for you to lean down. “Let me put it on, it will go well with your dress.”
You nod and stoop down, allowing him to loop the beads around your neck and fastening the clasp. You relish in the weight and sigh deeply, closing your eyes. If you imagine hard enough, you can feel Namjoon’s presence behind your back, hear the teasing laugh that escapes his lips as he places his hands on your waist to pull your back flush against his chest.
You sigh, shaking your head at the phantom touches your brain conjures from your memories. 
There is no more Namjoon, no more of his love. The sea of differences between the both of you is far too wide- you must make peace with this fact.
You must accept that there will be no more Namjoon in your life.
“____?” Your father’s gentle whisper pulls you out of that bitter place in your mind, and you see that he’s looking at you sadly. “Are you ready?”
No, you’re not ready. You’re never going to be ready. How can you be ready?
You’ve lost the love of your life.
Still, you nod. You’ve accepted your fate. You allow your father to link your arms together and he guides you out of your quarters, down the halls of the castle and towards the grand ballroom. Yoongi stands in front of the doors and you watch his features twist into concern for you, but you give him the slightest shake of your head. Yoongi’s eyes fill with sadness and he nods as he approaches you.
“Father will go first,” he recounts as your father presses a kiss to your temple before taking his leave, making his way to stand at the front of the procession. “And then the court, and then myself, and then you.”
“Sounds like a plan,” you murmur dully, casting your eyes down onto the tulle of your dress. This fabric itches terribly- you just want to wear the soft cotton of your favorite dress.
“____.” Yoongi’s soft voice pierces your thoughts and you look up, swallowing thickly when you see his eyes holding sadness and concern.
“Do you really want to do this?” Yoongi asks, voice gentle as he reaches out and grips your forearms softly, grounding you with his presence. “You don’t have to do this, ____. It’s clear your heart belongs to someone.”
“I’m doing this because I broke the heart of the one I love, and he’s betrothed to another.” You see Yoongi’s gaze flash with sympathy and you shake your head, pulling away from him and sniffling slightly.
“You don’t have to do this.” Yoongi’s tone is pleading- practically begging you to run off to find your happiness once again.
“I don’t, but what else am I supposed to do if the man I love doesn’t love me anymore Yoongi?” Your voice is every bit as broken as you feel, and you cover your mouth with your palm in a bid to stifle your sobs. Yoongi pulls you in for a hug as you gasp, gently petting at your back and shushing you softly.
You and Yoongi stand still as you allow yourself to break for just the smallest moment, feeling yourself break over again. It’s as though you’re back underneath the surface of the water and unable to swim back up, but instead of Namjoon rescuing you, you’re just left to drown.
And somehow, this feeling is one hundred times worse than the time you nearly drowned because you know that Namjoon won’t be there to save you with a smile on his face.
“I’m so sorry, ____.” Yoongi murmurs as you pull away, hands coming up to cradle your face. His thumbs wipe away your tears as you sniffle, struggling to maintain your composure.
“Prince Min!” You both look up as a planner comes up behind the both of you, averting their eyes when they realize they’ve walked into a private moment.
“What is it?” Yoongi all but growls, maneuvering himself so that he covers your figure with his build in a way that the planner cannot see your tears.
“You’re up next,” the planner gulps deeply, face flushing red at the animosity in Yoongi’s tone.
“I will be there in a minute, give me time,” Yoongi says, dismissing the planner without another word. The planner squeaks in agreement and scampers away, back towards the entrance of the ballroom.
“____.” Yoongi’s voice is soft yet firm. “I am telling you now, you can still walk away from this. You can choose to not go through with this and I can take your place and marry the princess of the kingdom-”
“I want you to marry for love,” you cut him off, voice quiet. “I don’t want you to be subject to this. It’s too late for me, Yoongi.”
“____-” He tries to argue back but you wave him away, pulling yourself out of his embrace and standing back.
“Go,” you whisper dully. “I’ll see you out there.”
“____,” Yoongi tries again, but the planner is escorting him to the entrance before he can make his case, leaving you alone in the hallway leading to the grand ballroom.
You sigh, hastily wiping at the skin of your cheeks and breathing in deeply, composing yourself before making your way to the door that leads to the grand staircase and your gray future.
You barely register the fanfare and the genteel applause from the crowd of nobility below you. You feel your lips tilt up in your practiced smile, though you feel your heart throb dully as you register that this is really going to happen- that you’re going to have a life without Namjoon.
Still, you smile as your father recites his speech, nodding along gracefully. He finishes with a grand flourish and you feel your heart sink in your chest when you hear the fanfare, followed by the announcement:
“Now presenting the Court of Corarin.”
Here you go.
You stand up taller and plaster on your best smile as the lords and ladies come up to greet you, curtsying at the proper time before they get whisked away. You feel your cheeks begin to ache at the constant facade but you keep the act up lest you accidentally start a war for not smiling at a Lord.
You’re finally reaching the end of the court and at the end is your betrothed. You physically steel yourself for the announcement, ready to resign yourself to your fate.
“Presenting the Crown Prince of Corarin, Princess ____ of Torina’s betrothed.”
You feel your heart sink at the sound of the fanfare and you fight the urge to touch the necklace around your throat. You fixate your eyes to the wall across from you, unable to bring yourself to the sight of the man standing in front of you.
That voice.
The voice that brings you comfort and warmth, the one that belongs to a man who claims that he cannot sing but hums along to your favorite waltz as he leads you to dance in the sands of your private beach.
The man that you love.
You tilt your head down and you feel your eyes begin to water at the sight of him.
Except this- this is Namjoon, Crown Prince of Corarin and your betrothed.
He stands tall and straight, hands clasped behind his back and his shoulders squared. His silvery hair is swept back and exposes his forehead, handsome features only highlighted by the crown that sits atop his forehead. Your eyes travel along his face before looking at his clothes- his coat is a brilliant blue the color of calm waters buttoned with silver buttons and a silver sash stretched across his chest. His dress pants and shoes are white, stature straight and serious as his commanding presence fills the room.
And yet, you can hear the nervousness in his tone as he looks into your eyes, swallowing thickly and saying, “Hi.”
“Hi,” you murmur back, stomach flipping with your mounting hesitation. You watch as Namjoon examines the crown on your head, down your face and all the way to the necklace that glimmers around your neck. His eyes widen at the sight and you make out the way his eyes just barely gloss over with tears before he shakes his head slightly.
“I believe I owe you a dance.” His voice is soft and yet carefully guarded, not giving away any of his thoughts. You feel your heart slightly sink but you nod gently in response.
“That you do,” you breathe out, offering your hand to him. He takes your hand in his and he gently leads you out onto the ball space, taking up first position. You follow suit, gathering your skirts in one hand as you lightly clasp his other hand.
The orchestra begins its score, and you feel the corners of your lips gently lift up at the sound of your favorite waltz. You and Namjoon begin slowly, just as you had taught him in the sand.
As you continue this shy tiptoe the music swells and the strings begin to pick up, causing Namjoon to pull you into his chest as he begins leading you around the floor. Your hand automatically finds its way home to his shoulder and his own palm covers your waist as he continues leading the both of you along.
The dance is gentle, save for a couple of spins that has the audience gasping and cooing but as the music approaches its crescendo Namjoon places his mouth against your ear and whispers, “Do you trust me?”
You gasp at the sudden vicinity, nodding shyly at him. “I always do.”
“Good.” The music swells and Namjoon places both hands on your waist, lifting you with ease and twirling you down as you brace your palms on his shoulders, causing you to laugh breathlessly at how easy it was for him to just do that maneuver.
“You’re quite good at that,” you murmur softly, averting your eyes.
You hear Namjoon release a soft breath at your statement, and it’s clear to you he’s thinking back to the first time you taught him how to waltz- the same way you are right now. “I had an excellent teacher.”
“That you did,” you smile bitterly, reliving the sweet memory that’s been made sour by the event that transpired between the pair of you. The waltz reaches its end and Namjoon spins you away from his body. You dip into a curtsy at the same time Namjoon bows deeply at you, the orchestra finishing with a grand flourish. The ballroom erupts in applause, and yet no sound is louder than the ringing of your ears.
All of this information that’s just been revealed to you is too much to process. Namjoon’s your betrothed- he’s the man you’re marrying. All of the heartache and pain that happened between the two of you was for naught- you were promised to each other.
You were so sure you were going to have a life without Namjoon that you didn’t even entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe, Namjoon was yours to keep.
“____?” His deep voice pulls you out of your racing thoughts, and you dazedly stare up at Namjoon. His eyes hold a glint of concern, and he reaches out to you gently. “Where are you in your head right now?”
“I-” You’re cut off when the orchestra begins a new waltz, and you register the faint sounds of the ball attendees laughing and joining in on the ball floor, partners lining up and beginning to dance. You and Namjoon stand in the middle of the chaos- the only two people in this moment.
“Are you okay?” His voice is soft, no hint of the pain from that fateful night. You shake your head and you begin to step away from him, gathering your thick skirts into your fists.
“I need to go.” The statement is scarcely out of your mouth before you’re turning and walking briskly away from him, curtsying when needed before you manage to escape the crowd. You hitch your skirts up the tiniest bit higher, beginning to run towards the first exit you see. You push the door open hastily and flee into the castle gardens, breathing in deeply and allowing the night air to cool your heated skin.
Your feet wander aimlessly, carrying you from rose bush to statue before you stand in front of a water fountain tucked away into a small corner of the garden. By now, your breathing has evened out and you’ve processed all of the information that’s been running rampant in your head, but you’re still hesitant about him.
Does he still feel the same about you?
Did that night that happened between the both of you create a rift so big, you and Namjoon could never recover from it?
Your hand reaches up to lightly graze at the pearls, and all of a sudden this necklace feels too heavy to wear.
Your fingers make their way to the clasp that sits behind your neck, and you begin to unhinge the clasp when all of a sudden, you hear a soft footstep behind you followed by a sharp intake of breath.
“What are you doing?”
You jolt in surprise and your fingernail catches on the hook, the necklace slipping off of your neck and into your waiting hand. You turn around and your eyes widen when you see Namjoon, slightly out of breath and face flushed. His chest heaves as if he ran to find you, and despite your hesitation and fear you can’t help but coo inwardly over how endearing he looks.
“Well?” His voice breaks you out of your internal musings and your eyes snap back at him. It suddenly registers to you that it’s just you two in this very secluded garden, and although you can hear the faint strains of the orchestra in the wind the hairs of your neck prickle alive, apprehensive over the fact that it’s just you two alone.
“I was…” Your voice trails off as you come up with an excuse as to why you ran away from him, and your excuse comes to you when you hear the rush of water behind you. “...admiring this lovely fountain! Yes, this garden has many beautiful rose bushes and shrubs- quite lovely! I should really go-”
“No.” Namjoon cuts you off and your eyes widen at the almost desperate tone in his voice.
“I beg your pardon?” You ask, eyes widening as Namjoon takes a closer step towards you.
“No, stay.” He implores, finally standing in front of you. His eyes gaze down at you and out of reflex, your fingers tighten around the delicate string of pearls. You watch as his eyes travel from your face to your fingers, and you bite your lip when his lips turn down in a pout.
“Why did you take it off?” Namjoon asks. You shake your head and sigh, looking down at your hands while your brain tries to create another excuse.
“ was itchy?” The excuse comes out as a question and you hear Namjoon snort, clearly seeing through your fib.
“No more secrets or lies between the two of us,” he declares softly. “You can tell me anything without fear.”
You purse your lips before deciding to just tell him the truth. “I had feared that you didn’t feel the same about me anymore.” You admit quietly, averting your eyes to his gaze. “In the ballroom, you looked so...aloof. Distant, even. I feared that everything that had happened between us dissolved after that night.”
You allow yourself to look up at his eyes, heart sinking when you see that his stare is carefully blank. You swallow thickly and sigh, shaking your head. “It’s okay if you...don’t feel the same about anymore, Namjoon. I understand. If you want to run away and explore the world, then I encourage you to leave now and swim towards the destinations you have always wanted to see. I will not stop you, and I will cover for you. Here, take it.”
You keep your head down as you step closer to him, thrusting the pearl necklace against his chest. You feel tears blur in your eyes at the thought of just giving Namjoon up after finding out he’s your betrothed, but you won’t keep him here with you if his desire is to be with the sea, free of the burden that has been placed on the both of you. Giving him his freedom is the least you can do after the deception you had pulled on him since the beginning.
You love him too much to keep him here when he deserves something better.
To your surprise, however, Namjoon takes hold of your hand and pulls you in closer so you’re within his embrace, his arm secure around your waist. You examine the silver buttons on his coat, unable to meet his eyes but you bite your lip when his other hand gently tucks itself under your chin, tilting your head up so that you look at him.
“This can’t be the same ____ who held a debate with me on which characteristic is more telling of a ripe strawberry,” he says teasingly, a small smile beginning to form on his face. You frown at his words, a small flame of ire stoking in your chest.
“What is that supposed to mean?” You ask, offense thick in your tone.
“It means, darling,” Namjoon murmurs softly, cradling your cheek in his palm. “I'm surprised that you haven’t put two and two together, after all of the gestures that have been made. I went back after that first meeting and demanded that you were the one who gave me lessons on being a human because I trusted only you, even back then. You were the only one I trusted to see me in my true form. I gave you this necklace for a reason. I went through this wedding for one reason, and that reason is because I couldn’t imagine a life without you.” You exhale shakily at his words, closing your eyes and feeling a tear run its course down your cheek. Namjoon’s hand cups at your cheek and you sign, relishing in the warmth as he wipes away the tear.
“I would forfeit my crown for you, swim towards the ends of the earth to save you, give up a life of exploration and freedom if it meant spending even just a second with you,” Namjoon says, voice filled with nothing but truth and warmth. “Don’t you understand, ____? I love you.”
It’s his final admission that has your eyes opening wide, staring at him with wonder and shock. You look up at Namjoon, heart fluttering when he keeps his gaze steady with yours.
Those three words have never been said between the two of you, spoken only through gestures. Namjoon looping his arm around yours as you strolled, how you would turn your head to the side would catch him looking at you with the softest smile. All of the times where he would offer you a bite of chocolate cake from his own plate even though you had your own slice, just so that he could get closer to you.
All because he loves you.
Namjoon’s voice brings you back to your present, and you look up to see him looking down at you with the softest smile gracing his lips. His eyes hold the promise of the future that you and him have talked and dreamed about in past meetings- one filled with joy and devoid of sorrow, where loneliness is replaced with love and light and all the things you’ve been looking for.
“I love you too,” you whisper, feeling yourself light up when Namjoon’s eyes widen, a smile overtaking his own face.
No other words are spoken; he simply tilts your chin up and captures your lips in a kiss that renders you speechless. He pours all of his emotions into the movement of his lips and you respond in kind- meeting him over and over until you lose your breath and you feel your head begin to spin at the dizzying high that comes from kissing the love of your life.
He pulls away and presses his forehead against your own, placing another kiss on your lips. “I love you, ____.”
“I love you too, Namjoon,” you murmur back, and you feel the smile that spreads across his face against your own lips.
Namjoon pulls away from you the slightest bit and takes your hands in his, wiggling his eyebrows at you in a joking manner before pressing a kiss against the back of your hand. “Come, let us get back to the ballroom.”
You direct your saddest eyes at him and he laughs at your attempt for more of his kisses, placating your silent plea with a soft brush of his lips against your forehead. He reaches down in order to lace his fingers in between yours, and he smiles when you squeeze his hand in response.
“I want more kisses,” you fake pout as he begins leading you out of the gardens and back to the castle’s main ballroom.
“Well, I want to dance with my wife,” Namjoon responds as he pauses in front of the door. He turns to you and pulls you close, bending down and stealing one last kiss that leaves you breathless and wanting more before pulling away gently. He gives you a tender smile before creating a respectable space between the two of your bodies, holding out his elbow and wiggling the joint at you in a bid to get you to place your hand inside the crook. You oblige and he pushes the door open, leading you two back into the space.
Before you fully make your way to the middle of the floor, however, he places his lips right by your ear and whispers in a sultry tone, “Not to worry, darling. There’ll be more time for kisses and much more later.”
The implications of his whisper has your skin heating up, smacking at his chest with a whine while he snorts at your bashfulness. “Don’t be cheeky!”
“Then don’t leave my side,” Namjoon shoots back, guiding you into the center of the ballroom and taking up first position with you in his arms. “I do not know if I can stomach another heartbreak like that again.”
You look up at Namjoon reassuringly as he begins to spin the both of you around in circles, feet falling into perfect timing alongside the strings of the orchestra. You squeeze the hand you had placed on his shoulder just the slightest bit and he reaches up to take your hand in his, placing a kiss against the skin of your palm.
“I intend to stay,” you promise as he spins you in a circle away from his body, quickly pulling you back in.
“Good,” Namjoon smiles at you as he places his hands on your hips. You know automatically that he’s about to do his favorite waltzing move with you so you brace your palms against his broad chest as he easily lifts you up in the air, spinning you around and causing you to laugh in delight at the giddy feeling spreading through your veins.
He places you back down with a large smile on his face, continuing to lead you along in your waltz. And there you remain by his side, whirling and laughing along the floor of the grand ballroom as you fall more and more in love with the man who you get to call yours.
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Your feet ache.
As much as you enjoy waltzing alongside Namjoon for the entirety of the night, you wholly regret it now- especially with the numbness you feel traveling up your legs due to your shoes.
You wince, allowing the soles of your feet to rest on the top of the water by your dock to alleviate the pinching pain. It’s well past the ending of the ball and you’ve long stripped from your extravagant gown, left only in your white chemise and long floral robe, a blanket from your chambers laid out on the wood of the dock. Your hair is undone from its intricate hairstyle and you wear no jewelry besides the necklace Namjoon gave you.
The full moon hangs above you and you relish in the soft, silver glow it casts all around you- bathing the surroundings in an ethereal light. Maybe it’s because this day ended in happiness rather than you sobbing into your pillow, but you feel content. It’s been a while since you’ve felt like this, but you can truly say you’re happy now.
And others may think otherwise, but you think you’re the luckiest person in the world right now.
You startle at the new voice and turn around, smiling when you see Namjoon standing on the dock behind you. He has on a thin cotton shirt with simple brown pants, and you allow your eyes to travel along his thick chest up to his face.
“Hi Joonie,” you greet, patting the space next to you. He makes his way over and sits down next to you, automatically wrapping his arm around your waist and drawing you closer to him.
“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod against his chest. You feel him brush his lips against the crown of your head and you smile at the tender gesture, pressing your own kiss against the place where his heart beats.
“My feet ache,” you respond. You feel Namjoon’s chest rumble and you pout, knowing he’s laughing. “Don’t laugh! You’re the one who kept whisking me away for more dances.”
“What can I say?” He asks rhetorically. “I love dancing with my wife.”
“You’re the one who despised waltzing in the beginning,” you grumble playfully, and this time you hear Namjoon’s baritone laughter from up above you.
“I’m a changed man,” he easily replies. He shifts your bodies so that you’re facing him slightly, though he still holds your hand. “I actually got you something.”
“Oh?” You feel surprise thrum in your veins at this- you hadn’t thought Namjoon would give you something else.
“Remember when we went to the town square and I disappeared for a little bit?” He questions and you nod along, remembering that exact moment.
“I had something made for us,” Namjoon mumbles sheepishly, and you watch as he reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small velvet bag. He passes the bag over to you and you look at him quizzically, but you’re only met with a rapidly reddening face on his end.
You pull open the bag and reach inside, not expecting to hear the clink of metal. The tips of your fingers graze something smooth and you pull the items out, eyes widening when you see two rings land into your palm. Both are made of gold, but one of them is thin and has a pearl set into the middle while the other is a thick band.
“Rings?” You ask, your heart beginning to beat a little bit faster.
He can’t mean…
“I remember you taught me that land humans show off their matrimony with a ring,” Namjoon explains sheepishly. “So...matching rings.”
You feel yourself tear up at the pure thought that went into Namjoon’s gift, and before he knows it you’re flinging your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a hug. He steadies himself by placing his palms on your back, pressing you closer to his chest.
“I love you,” you whisper, and you feel Namjoon brush his lips against your ear in a show of affection.
You pull away slightly and grasp at his left hand, sliding on the ring meant for him. He takes the ring meant for you from your hands and places it onto your own finger, and you smile when the moonlight makes the pearl shine.
A sudden thought pops into your mind, and you squeeze Namjoon’s hand excitedly. “The first swim,” you say, and his eyes widen at your enthusiasm.
“____,” Namjoon begins, nervousness painting his tone. “Those usually end in...sexual activity and I don’t want to do anything that will make you uncomfortable.”
“Oh.” You feel yourself heat up at his words- equal parts embarrassment and want painting your being. You’re no fool- you know that you and Namjoon were expected to consummate your marriage, and you had been intending on doing it after talking to him. You could easily wait, and you know Namjoon would be patient with you as well.
But deep down, you know you want all of him.
“I trust you,” you tell him, tone soft yet holding no insecurity or fear. “I know you, and I know you wouldn’t hurt me like that.”
“Are you sure?” He asks, eyes searching you for any sort of waver or pause. Instead, he sees steady eyes sure of its choice.
“Yes,” you reply.
“Okay, darling,” he says softly. “If you ever want to stop, just let me know.”
“I trust you,” you repeat. You stand up and you peel your robe from your body, depositing it in the space behind the blanket. You turn around and find Namjoon watching you with a slightly glazed look in his eyes, eyes focusing on your exposed neck with the necklace he gave you glimmering underneath the moonlight.
“Well?” You ask teasingly. Your hands settle on your hips and you begin to bunch the fabric of your chemise up your hips in a bid to remove the article of clothing. Before you can fully pull the fabric up your head, however, Namjoon’s hands shoot out and stop you, making you pout up at him.
“Let me go into the water first,” he says, and the commanding undercurrent in his voice has you shivering.
“Okay,” you concede. You turn around and you feel yourself heat slightly as you hear his clothes hit the dock with a dull thump. Moments pass in silence before you hear the splash of Namjoon entering the sea.
“Go ahead, darling,” Namjoon says. You take that as your cue to pull your chemise over your head, leaving you fully nude out in the open. A shiver runs up your spine at the thought of being caught by someone, but who would even see you? It’s just Namjoon.
Resolve settling, you turn around and walk towards the edge of the dock. Namjoon’s back is facing the horizon and you gulp, letting your feet dangle over the edge of the dock before allowing yourself to fall off into the water below.
You feel yourself shiver when the cold water caresses your body, and it only takes a second for Namjoon’s arms to make their way home around your waist in order to pull you up over the surface of the water. You gasp heavily when you break the surface, resting your hands on his chest and looking up at him with a smile.
“Hi,” you greet, and Namjoon releases a breath that sounds like a laugh.
“Beautiful,” he responds easily, kissing the skin between your eyebrows.
Namjoon adjusts the hold he has on you once again, allowing you to rest your head on his chest before he begins to swim, his tail flicking lazily so as to enjoy it. You relish in the feel of his arms around you, but there’s something about the strength he exhibits between maneuvering his tail and his thick arms holding you against his firm chest that has you heating up rapidly.
You don’t say anything though, wanting to enjoy the peaceful silence. You both continue to float lazily, his tail having stopped propelling you around a long while ago, and you sigh as you revel in the feeling of weightlessness and Namjoon’s body pressed against yours.
“What are you thinking about, ____?” Namjoon asks. You pull away just enough so that you’re both upright, and Namjoon follows suit, moving his hands from your rib cage to your waist.
“Nothing,” you admit. “Just enjoying the feel of you.”
“The feel of me?” Namjoon’s voice is joking, but you don’t miss the deep undercurrent that his voice takes on. The desirous tone has you heating up once again, and you decide in that instant that you want him.
“Yes,” you murmur dulcetly, drawing yourself closer to him so your chests are barely touching. You watch Namjoon’s eyes darken just the slightest bit, hands squeezing the skin of your waist a little bit harder as you let your lips fall against his ear.
“Your tail and how beautiful it is,” you admit, your voice taking on a seductive tone. “Your arms and how thick they are. Your chest, all of the muscles.”
“Mmm? Is that so, darling,” Namjoon replies, voice having dropped to its husky octave that has shivers running up and down your spine. “Is that all?”
“No…” Your voice tapers off at your admission, desire beginning to paint your voice. “How strong you are and how breathless your kisses leave me.”
“Oh really?” Namjoon’s tone takes on a teasing inflection and you playfully slap at his chest. He fake pouts, though you don’t miss the sin in his eyes. “Like this?”
That’s all the warning you get before he presses his lips against yours and steals your breath away, causing you to gasp. This kiss is different from all of the other kisses you two have shared- this one is intense, full of passion and ardent lust. Your hands travel from their location on his chest and up past his neck before tangling into the wet strands of his silvery hair, causing him to groan at the few of your fingers running through the locks.
“Be careful, darling.” There’s an edge of restraint in Namjoon’s voice and you feel his jaw flex tightly, wanting to continue but holding yourself back. “If you want to stop-”
“I want to be reckless,” you counter, voice breathy. “I want to be close to you and feel every inch of you with no holding back, Namjoon. I want you to make love to me.”
The words are scarcely out of your mouth before Namjoon captures your lips in his once again, this time pulling you flush against his chest. You gasp when you feel your breasts press up against his defined pecs, and you shiver at the sensation but at the same time wanting him closer. You wrap your legs around his waist in a bid to achieve your goal and Namjoon groans against your lips, making you moan in response.
“Fuck, okay.” Namjoon pants. That’s the only thing he says before swimming the both of you back to your dock, except instead of going back to the actual dock itself he pushes your back up against a wooden post, pressing himself flush against your body. He brings his lips down against your own once again, stealing your breath and making you whine needily in his mouth. He grunts in response, his hands slowly drifting down from your waist towards your hips.
“Joonie,” you whimper against his mouth. You feel him exhale shakily when your fingernails lightly rake against his back, but what you don’t anticipate is his palms landing on your ass and giving a greedy squeeze to the plump flesh. You moan wantonly against his lips and he takes that opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth, letting himself fully taste you. This kiss is messy but you relish in the eroticism of it- feeling that wet, needy feeling inside of you grow more and more until it becomes unbearable.
“Namjoon,” you whine when he pulls away. “I need you, please.”
“Fuck, you sound so pretty when you beg,” he curses, and the gravelly baritone of his voice has the want in you growing more and more.
“Touch me,” you encourage. You place your hand on his own and guide his fingers to the place where your thighs meet, breath hitching slightly when he slides his palm against your slick. You whine when he curiously runs his fingers through the flesh once again, legs spreading open under his curious actions.
“Teach me how,” he commands softly, and you scoff at the teasing tone in his voice.
“It seems as though you know,” you reply breathlessly, your voice wavering when his fingers pass by your sensitive bundle of nerves. He stops his ministrations and you whine in annoyance, only for him to stroke your clit once again and make you gasp.
“I don’t know, darling,” he murmurs darkly. “I’m pretty new to this so…”
His words contradict his actions, fingers beginning to rub against your clit and provide you with a pleasure that builds steadily. You groan when his fingers begin to stroke harder, pressing his palm flush against your clit as his fingers begin to prod at your swollen hole, making you rest your head against the wood of the post and moan out loudly into the air of the sea.
“F-faster,” you plead as you dig your nails into Namjoon’s shoulders, whining when Namjoon heeds your actions. He places his plump lips against the column of your neck and you shiver at the feel of his mouth pressing open mouthed kisses to the delicate skin, only to cry out when he gently bites down.
The swirl of sensations has your mind spinning, and you feel yourself get closer and closer to the edge you want desperately to fall off of. “I’m c-close,” you stammer out, eyes drifting shut.
“Is that so?” Namjoon chuckles, and the next thing you know, he’s pulling away harshly, leaving you high and dry.
It takes a moment in your pleasure-addled brain that he stopped touching you, but when it does register you cry out, feeling the high you were so close to fading away. “Namjoon!”
“If I’m to make you come for the first time, I want it to be out of the water and on my cock.” His crude words only have you heating up, and before you know it Namjoon is hoisting you out of the water and onto the dock. He’s quick to push himself up, and you watch in wonder as his beautiful tail morphs back to his human legs.
You don’t get to marvel at the transformation for too long before he’s pushing you down gently on the dock, hovering his body over yours and kissing you deeply once again. You wind your arms around his neck and wrap your legs around his hips, whining when you feel the tip of his cock brush ever so slightly against your slick nether lips.
“Namjoon, I need you,” you pant, but Namjoon pulls his hips away slightly with a small smirk on his face.
“But I’d like to learn more about you,” he says slyly, and before you can question him, his hands are sliding down to stroke at your center. You whimper at the sensation of his cold fingers against your hot folds, unwittingly grinding your hips against his hand to meet his every touch.
The edge that Namjoon had previously denied you returns with full force, and you gasp shakily when the top of his finger prods at your swollen center. “Please,” you implore, looking up at him with teary eyes because God, you’ve never experienced something like this and it feels too good.
“What was that?” Namjoon asks, a touch of cockiness lacing his voice. “I’m still new to this, darling. What is it you want me to do?”
“Don’t make me curse,” you mumble back shakily, hands squeezing his shoulders. Nevertheless, Namjoon continues his teasing actions all the while ignoring your pleas and whines.
Finally- “F-fuck! I need you inside of me, please.”
Namjoon groans at your plea, brushing his lips down against yours before placing his mouth by your ear. “Do you speak like this in court?” He groans lowly in your ear, and you whimper, shaking your head wildly.
“N-no I- oh.” You begin to stammer out, but your voice breaks off in a moan when Namjoon finally slides his finger inside of you, thumb beginning to rub circles into your clit. You cry out against his lips as he slides in deeper, head falling back onto the dock.
“No, hmm?” Namjoon’s voice is like sweet wine, spreading through your veins and slowly turning you drunk as he begins to thrust his finger in and out of you. “All for me, right darling?”
“Y-yes.” You whimper shakily when Namjoon rewards your statement with faster fingers. The tip of his fingernail grazes against that sensitive spot inside of you and you sob at that, walls clamping down harshly on his still moving appendage.
“Oh?” Namjoon’s voice is dark, and you look up hazily to see his lazy smirk. Before you know it, he’s plunging in another finger, causing you to cry out wantonly.
Namjoon’s lips ghost along the column of your neck, nipping and sucking pretty flowers onto the sensitive skin as his fingers pick up pace, pushing you over and over to the edge. His fingers find that spot in you once again, and you feel the coil in your stomach begin to unravel dangerously as you sob.
“Namjoon,” you pant, bringing your hands down to cup his face. “I-i’m c-close-”
“Are you now, my beautiful wife?” Him calling you his wife has you whining, nodding fervently as you pull his head down in order to kiss him. He grants your wish, tongue sliding out to greet yours messily as his fingers continue their ministrations. You feel yourself teeter closer and closer off the edge-
-when Namjoon stops, pulling away his fingers from your weeping cunt and his mouth away from yours. You jolt at the sudden lack of movement, pleasure-addled mind barely registering that he stopped. You cry out when you finally do realize it, body beginning to thrash as you begin your pleas.
“I was so close, please let me come,” you all but sob, feeling a tear slip out of your eye and down your cheek. Namjoon tuts softly at this, leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss that has you moaning.
“I will,” he promises. His hands settle onto your hips as he finally brings himself down, allowing his thick cock to slide in between your slick cunt lips.
“F-fuck,” he groans lowly, you whining in response as he continues sliding himself in between your pussy lips. “So warm and wet-”
“Only for you,” you pant, your hands placing themselves on his shoulders in order to squeeze tightly and ground yourself from the high you feel.
“As it should be,” he grunts deeply. One of his hands moves from your waist down to his cock, and you watch hazily as he strokes at his stiff member, his moan making you warmer.
“Namjoon, please,” you implore, looking up at him with teary eyes. “You’ve worked so hard and I want you to feel good too.”
“Fuck,” he groans gutterly against your lips before nodding fervently.
“Of course, darling.” He places one of his hands against your hips and uses the other hand to guide the tip of his cock against your weeping entrance, making you whimper quietly when the tip catches at your swollen hole.
“O-oh-” you whine, head falling back. Your eyes hazily open and you watch Namjoon’s jaw flex at the boneless sight of you, pushing his hips forward inch by inch until he’s fully sheathed inside of you.
“Let me know when I can move, ____.” The simple sentence has your heart swelling- even in the deepest throes of pleasure, Namjoon still takes care of you and looks after you.
“I’m okay,” you say, leaning up and kissing Namjoon before pulling away. “Move, please.”
At your command he begins to roll his hips while sliding his cock in and out of you, and the pleasurable movements have you gasping, back arching at the sensations he wreaks on your body. Your nails drift from his shoulders onto his back, and when Namjoon hits that spot deep inside of you, your fingers leave scratches down the expanse of his back, wailing out in response.
“There!” You cry out, feeling that edge Namjoon had pulled you away from return with a vengeance. “Oh God, I’m so close-”
“Yeah?” Namjoon’s voice is tight as he moves harder and deeper, his tone slowly going deeper and deeper. “Are you going to lose yourself all over me?”
“Yes!” You mewl, only to shriek when Namjoon’s hand returns to your sopping folds. His thumb seeks out your clit with well practiced ease and he begins to swirl circles over the throbbing bud, pushing you right to the edge of your orgasm.
With one well placed pinch to your clit and a deep thrust that causes you to see stars- “Come for me, my darling,” Namjoon commands.
You heed his command with an arch of your back, mouth falling open into a soundless scream as you give into the pleasure that had been mounting in your body. Your legs fall off of their perch on Namjoon’s torso as you finally wail- pleasure lighting all of the nerves in your body and spreading from your chest all the way down to your toes. Even in the throes of your orgasm, Namjoon never stops his movements- drawing it out until you whine.
“F-fuck-” Your words come out in a garbled mess, Namjoon laughing as he slows down to a stop. You feel your walls clamp down on his cock, causing him to groan out deeply.
“Was it that good?” He asks cheekily, and you glower at him, weakly slapping at his chest.
“Don’t be an ass,” you reply shakily. Namjoon exhales in amusement once again before making a move to pull out- but you stop him with a hand on his hip.
“What about you?” You question, voice questioning as he looks down at you softly.
“I made you orgasm,” he says bashfully. “I’m okay know.”
“Who said I wanted to stop?” You counter, and you watch as Namjoon’s cheeks flush red at your words.
“I don’t want to tire you out or worse- hurt you,” he responds, and his sweet response has you melting for him all over again.
“I want you still,” you promise. You push yourself up to a sitting position and lean forward, kissing him deeply. He responds in kind, pulling your body into his and rearranging your position so that you’re straddling his lap while his legs dangle over the edge of the dock.
You gasp breathily when his cock slides against your pussy once again, grinding your hips down and beginning to move against his stiff member. Namjoon groans in response, rolling his hips up to meet your movements before squeezing the flesh of your hips, stopping you in your movements.
“What?” You ask, and Namjoon only gives you a small smile before beginning to guide your hips over the tip of his cock.
“One more time, ____,” Namjoon says seriously, making you look up at him. “Are you sure you want to keep going?”
You feel your heart beat a little bit faster in your chest, his thoughtfulness warming you and just reaffirming your love for him all over again. “Yes, I want all of you again,” you say breathlessly. Namjoon releases a soft exhale at your surety, nodding at you.
“Okay.” At your permission he slowly sinks you down on his cock, your eyes slowly drifting shut as a moan escapes your lips. He responds with a groan of his own, sinking you down further and further until he fully bottoms out, your hips touching.
You and Namjoon stay still for who knows how long, simply basking in each other’s presence. It all feels so intimate- chests pressed up against each other, him buried deep inside of you, lips just barely touching. The overwhelming closeness of it all has you tearing up- you just feel so much love. 
And you know he feels the same way.
You inhale deeply before slowly moving your hips, causing Namjoon to groan. His hands guide you, setting a slow rhythm that steals what little breath you have left in your chest and causes you to feel dizzy from the pleasure all over again.
“F-fuck,” Namjoon growls lowly, and the deep rumble of his chest against your breasts has you whining, picking up your pace. His hips begin to thrust up to meet your rolling movements, and you whimper when you feel the tip of his cock brush against your sensitive spot.
“You f-feel so good,” Namjoon sighs, and you roll down deeper, making him groan against your lips.
“It feels too good,” you whine in response, and the wantonness in your voice has him chuckling breathlessly.
“Does it?” He teases, and you nod fervently, continuing your movements.
You gasp when Namjoon slides his hands down to your ass, squeezing and massaging the flesh as he begins to pound up into you and consequently making you cry out.
“My pretty darling, my most wonderful wife,” he breathes out reverently. He laces his fingers in between yours and brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing gentle kisses into the pads of your fingers as his hips continue their thrusts up. “You’re so beautiful.”
Your eyes drift open at his words, but you feel them blow wide open when you realize that Namjoon’s face is painted a slight gold instead of in the silver sheen it was when he first met you here. You turn your head around and realize that it’s sunrise- and you and Namjoon are going to watch the beginning of your new lives together in the most intimate way possible.
“I love you, Namjoon,” you breathlessly sough, and Namjoon smiles tenderly in response.
“And I love you, ____.” He murmurs back. His hips continue their thrusts and you gasp, feeling the end you crave beginning to unravel in your stomach. Namjoon senses this through the pulsing of your walls and takes over moving for you, sliding your hips up and down as he kisses you deeply.
“Come undone with me,” you gasp, Namjoon nodding in response.
“Let go, darling,” he murmurs softly, so different from his commandeering presence. You follow through with a gasp, throwing your head back and crying out softly. This orgasm is different- it’s not as intense, not as heavy. It washes over you and warms you like the slowly rising sun, filling you with an indescribable warmth and giddying feeling.
Your walls continue massaging Namjoon’s cock, and the sensations have him moaning, his own head falling forward into the skin of your neck. You feel him throb deep inside you, and you roll your hips sluggishly in a bid to get him to finish.
“Come undone, Joonie,” you murmurs. Namjoon nods fervently and with a stuttered thrust of his hips he unravels, groaning deeply and filling you with his seed. You whine at the delicious warmth, slowing to a stop and simply basking in his presence.
The sun by now has begun fully rising out of the horizon, everything warm and bright as you and Namjoon regain your breath. Namjoon tucks your tangled hair behind your ears before pressing his forehead against your own, letting your noses brush together.
“I love you,” he says again, and you smile at the honey-like tone in his voice.
“I love you too,” you reply, kissing him lightly. You pull away and Namjoon pouts, squeezing your hips playfully.
“I want more kisses,” he playfully says, repeating the sentence you had said just hours ago on your way back to the ballroom. You exhale in amusement, rolling your eyes at his teasing before kissing his dimple.
“Well, I want to bask in the rising sun with my husband,” you counter with a sly grin, a short chuckle leaving Namjoon’s lips.
“And so we shall,” Namjoon replies. He pulls out of you gently before laying down, pulling your body down with his and settling your head on his chest so that you can watch the sunrise together.
And there you lay, bathed in gold as you both talk about your happy future together- one where you aren’t separated, but one where you’re together and live happily until the end of time.
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a/n #2: thank you ,,,, for reading this :’))
tags: @triviafics @triviahoney 
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jamaisjoons · 9 days ago
forever bound⤑ knj | mlist.
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⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 the last thing you expect to discover on your fourth anniversary is your fiance's infidelity. the last thing you expect to do on your fourth anniversary is fuck a handsome stranger in the middle of a bar. 〞infidelity au. rich kids au. bdsm au. secret affair au. strangers 2 lovers au. arranged marriage au.
❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: namjoon x reader
❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ∝ fluff ∝ smut
❥ 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑠: on-going
⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: see each chapter
⇥ find the playlist here
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➵ Chapter I
➵ Chapter II - Coming Soon
➵ Chapter III  - Coming Soon
➵ Chapter IV  - Coming Soon
➵ Chapter V  - Coming Soon
➵ Chapter VI  - Coming Soon
➵ Chapter VII  - Coming Soon
➵ Chapter VIII  - Coming Soon
➵ Chapter IX  - Coming Soon
➵ Chapter X: Epilogue  - Coming Soon
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parkdatjimin · 3 months ago
you got me
Pairings: Jimin x fem!reader ft. Namjoon and Yoongi (ot7 does make a brief appearance but it's myg and knj mostly)
Genre: 18+, fwb, f2l, idiot 2 lovers, semi-slow burn, some fluff and angst too, minors dni pls
Warnings: manipulation, explicit sexual content, body worship, praise kink, jimin has big dick energy and an even bigger dick, cunnilingus, choking/breath play, oc is flexible af, wall sex, rough sex, oral sex, soft sex, just a lot of sex, nipple play, fingering, dirty talk, swearing, a decent amount of biting tbh, oc rides jimin's face, orgasm denial, creampie, slight bdsm themes at one point, cock warming, multiple orgasms, sub/dom themes, jimin really likes puthy...I think that's everything
Summary: keeping your new relationship a secret from the rest of the gang is harder than you first anticipated. keeping your newly developing feelings a secret is even harder.
Wc: 20.6K
a/u: idk how many of my fics I’ll repost here, but I will be reposting some bc I want to :) 
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Secrets. Everyone's got 'em. Some aren't so serious but some can change your entire world. Or at least the entire dynamic of a friendship you've been sustaining since third grade.
"You want to have sex with me?"
"You think I'm joking."
"Aren't you?"
"No." Playing with the tip of your braid, you shuffle in your spot on the couch and blink your attention to the walls and floor. "It makes sense, doesn't it? Neither of us have the time or energy to commit to something serious right now. Sex is something we both want. And I trust that boundaries can be easily established and respected between us. I've considered our relationship being friends up until this point--and nothing major will change--we would simply be adding sex. And if we don't like it, we don't have to ever do it again."
Well that won't happen. Jimin doesn't have any doubt he would enjoy fucking you.
He needs to walk this one out. He stands and begins pacing across your living room, a habit he's developed during times he feels excited or stressed. You wonder which emotion is taking dominance in this situation. Stopping by the mirror on your wall, he looks at himself, a dramatic inner monologue no doubt helping him decide how to move forward.
As much as he wants to call you crazy, the more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. He wants to have sex too, but one night stands, clubs, and bars take money and time that he doesn't have right now, let alone the energy to commit to a girlfriend. He does trust you unconditionally and you've made it clear you trust him. Benefits sound like the perfect solution, not to mention you're freaking gorgeous. Should he mention all the times he's thought about your ass in the shower?
It's here Jimin faces the timeless struggle of a man who's friend has offered to let him fuck her in exchange for being fucked. Despite your innocent appearance, Jimin knows you're not an angel. You've done plenty of stupid stuff and maybe this will prove to be another regret somewhere down the line. Or maybe it could be exactly what the two of you desperately need.
His eyes shift to see you behind him in the mirror. "Why not one of the other guys?"
It's a valid question.
After all, the other boys have equally attractive traits of their own. Jungkook could probably fuck you and bench press you at the same time if he wanted. Seokjin is undoubtedly the softest in bed and would always treat you like an absolute princess. Fucking a genius like Namjoon would probably make you smarter if anything. Not to mention Hoseok and Taehyung's tendency to be shameless and Yoongi’s overall love to spoil whoever he's seeing.
"It's embarrassing," you reply.
"But it's not embarrassing with me?"
"That's right."
"You're not in love with me, are you?"
"What? No, this is just sex," you assure him, although now your cheeks are dusted a curious pink.
He still doesn't get why you chose him of all people, but he's also scared if he asks again, you'll start considering one of the other boys instead so he keeps his mouth shut. He wonders if you already asked some of them but they said no. Is he your second choice? Third? Sixth?
It's not like Jimin hasn't noticed how pretty you are now. For crying out loud, he was your best friend during your worst acne breakouts, braces, bad haircuts, weight shaming, everything. None of those other guys know the you who went through years of hating her body and wishing she was someone else, so they don't deserve the you who's overcome her demons and learned to love the body that she has.
"If you don't want to just say so--"
"Uh, wait," Jimin stops you, pulling you back onto the couch with him when you attempt to walk away, "I didn't say no. Just making sure we're on the same page."
With some hope starting to stir, you quickly reach underneath the couch and retrieve two pieces of lined paper already partially written on with black ink. "That's what these are for," you explain, handing him one of the papers.
He examines it before raising a brow. "You want me to sign a contract to have sex with you?"
"It's not a contract, more like...guidelines. You don't have to physically sign it but if you were to agree with these boundaries and give your consent," you explain, softly tucking hair behind your ear and Jimin begins noticing the smaller details of your face, "I would give mine too. Then we could both have what we want."
"You've really thought this through, huh," he mutters, reading the page again, this time more carefully. His eyes trace the careful lettering of each word, making you anxious each time they jump backwards to make sure they read something correctly. Jimin takes his sweet time understanding the rules you've written. After a few long moments, he finishes and looks at you. "Alright, I'm in. But I have a few suggestions."
"Okay!" You clear your throat and Jimin bites his lip to keep back a smile. "I mean, sure."
It takes a good half hour to come to a mutual agreement. A lot of what you originally wrote stays. Like rule #2: absolutely no one else can ever know about your relationship (due to the fact that you might die). And rule #4: both of you will get tested before anything happens, to be safe.
Jimin sets some thoughtful and probably wise boundaries. Like rule #5: no kissing outside of sex. And rule #7: either party is allowed to end things at any time, no questions asked. Boundaries are added and taken away, rewritten and erased until the two of you are satisfied.
He doesn't necessarily seem to be hesitating, but he also isn't jumping at the opportunity to sleep with you. You're trying to keep cool. Composure is key. But there's no hiding your excitement. The way your knee bounces is a dead giveaway and in case you were wondering, yes, Jimin notices and, yes, he thinks it's cute.
Jimin twirls the pen in his hand, scanning the paper in front of him and flipping through the two full printed, double spaced pages of fine detail.
"I think that's it."
One copy is placed safely in your desk and the other is folded and tucked into Jimin's back pocket.
"So," you begin, awkwardly flapping your arms at your side and searching the atmosphere for what to say, "Google said it takes two or three days for results once you're tested. Would you wanna come over Friday night? Or if that's too soon, we can wait until after the weekend. Whenever works for you."
Gently, Jimin places his hands on your wrists and pins your arms to your sides. He's not considered tall by the rest of the group's standards but you've always thought he was perfectly average. You like how close his face is to yours when he stands this close to you, how easy it is to reach him.
"Sorry," you offer a breathless chuckle, "I'm just nervous."
"Nervous?" Jimin guides your arms to wrap around his waist, pulling you close enough to stand on his feet.
"Excited," you correct yourself while stepping onto his toes. "Nervous and excited. I haven't had sex in a while. Kinda miss it.”
Every time he rocks, his foot lifts yours off the ground and you fall into his arms, completely dependent on gravity to pull you back down to earth. When he rocks towards the other side just a little too far, your hand grips the back of his shirt and his arms tighten around your body, securing you where you stand tucked to his frame. Back and forth, back and forth, a game you've been playing since you were small. It's not so much for fun anymore, actually you're not entirely sure why you continue to do it. It just happens sometimes, like that safety blanket you keep on the edge of your bed even though it doesn't match anything in your room anymore.
"That's okay," he assures you with a shrug. "To be honest, I haven't fucked in, well, a long time, so we're in the same boat."
You furrow your brow. "What about that girl?"
"The one from your office? The intern?"
"Oh, her. It didn't work out."
"Why?" you ask curiously, brushing his bangs from his eyes.
He shrugs again. "Are you wearing a bra?"
Removing yourself from his arms with a pout, you clear your throat and pat your cheeks which are growing increasingly warmer. "I didn't think to..."
After successfully distracting your poor excuse for an attention span, Jimin presents an adorable laugh to match his adorable smile before reaching for his shoes by the front door.
"I guess I should get used to these kinds of things, huh?" He slips them on his heels and throws a wink over his shoulder at you. He smiles at the sparkle in your eyes, and you feel a sense of security in your decision to do this with him.
"See ya Friday, ___."
Seoul's streets are bustling as usual on a weeknight like this. Work was unpleasant to say the least and Jimin's feet felt like pudding by the end of the day. One of the highlights though was sharing his test results with you and hearing back that you're clean as well.
chim: What time should I head over?
y/n: Maybe around 8? I should be done with everything and showered by then. Is that too late?
chim: No that's perfect! cool see you then :)
Filing and transferring documents didn't appear as important now that he knew he would be dick deep inside his best friend in a matter of days.
After so long, he's curious to know what your expectations are. He's not insecure, so to say, but he does want to make sure this is awesome for you. Both of you. He's not second guessing his decision to start a friends with benefits relationship with you, but he is second guessing what it'll be like. You said neither of you have to continue if you don’t like it, and rule #7 saves his ass from feeling like he’s trapped in anything. But in all honesty, Jimin can’t think of any reason why he won’t love fucking you.
Thursdays are hard in and of themselves without the impending knowledge that he’s finally going to have sex again.
His mind couldn't remember the name of the zipper file he used while organizing his boss's laptop when he had fantasies of you writhing beneath him and begging to be fucked till you cry. Nor could he remember where he placed his coffee when he's secretly drooling over the thought of being intimate with someone after an ungodly amount of time.
Jimin makes it back to his dorm less than twenty minutes later, and upon entering, he instantly wishes he hadn't.
"You're back!" Taehyung jumps up, running to take his brother’s hand and lead him to the spot on the floor in front of the couch. "We're watching IT. You're my shield now since Kook ditched to raid the kitchen."
Jungkook’s head comes into view from around the corner, a scowl pointed in their direction. “Tattle tale.”
“Am not!”
Yoongi and Hoseok are squished on the love seat, legs thrown over laps and a bowl of popcorn balanced between their thighs. “Welcome back.” Though they don’t sound all that enthusiastic about their roommate's return.
“Long day?”
“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Yoongi deadpans and then continues to talk about it. “This project is kicking ass. ___ and I are working like slave monkeys to get this done in time, but no matter how many hours we put in, it feels like it’ll never be done.”
“Slave monkeys?”
“That’s right, Jimin,” Yoongi leans closer, his eyes like two black beads in the TV lit living room, “...slave monkeys.”
Hoseok pats the older’s knee and gives a teasing smile, “Someone just needs a day off. Maybe a blowjob. Remember, you’ve always got a friend in me, kitten.”
“No thanks,” Yoongi replies, curling his knee to his chest. “No offence, Hobi, but you choke on yogurt.”
“That was one time! One time!”
The stress in his shoulders usually lifts during the evening like this, the smiles of his friends are the source of his happiest moments in life. But for some reason, Jimin feels anxious sitting so casually like this. Taehyung buries himself in the curve of Jimin's shoulder and peaks his face out only to be chased back into hiding by the clown on screen.
“What about ___? She’s probably stressed too," Hoseok asks, eyeing the kernel on Yoongi’s lip and using his finger to swipe it away.
“Would you not?” Yoongi exclaims, pushing his hand away with a hidden giggle, “and yeah, actually, she’s been on edge since we took this project. I suggested she get laid but I don’t know if--”
“You suggested it?” Jimin exclaims before he can catch his run away tongue.
Yoongi pauses, the space between his brows crinkling slowly as he curiously scans the boy up and down. “Yeah. But I don’t know if she’ll actually do it. Says she’s too busy to go on dates right now. Interested in ___’s love life, Jimin?”
“No, not at all."
"Hyung!" The startling plea comes from a one hungry maknae slumping from the kitchen, wallowing his way to hang on Jimin's shoulder. "Make me food, please!"
"What do you want?" Jimin asks, eyeing Yoongi’s dangerous ears and how intently they listen to anything and everything. Shivers run up his spine.
"You can't make it yourself?" But he's already making his way to the kitchen, leaving a terrified Taehyung in Hoseok’s capable arms.
He’s not running away from his previous conversation, by the way, just making a timely exit in order to protect himself against his slippery lips and tendency to tell his hyungs everything.
Jungkook jumps to sit on the counter and swings his legs in the air like a little kid. "It tastes better the way you make it."
"I just make it according to the packet.”
Mainly because he’s whipped beyond reason for the youngest of the seven friends living in this much too small dorm, Jimin starts boiling water and preparing extra egg and meat to be added later.
As his hands work, his mind wanders. Back to you, naturally. He's not upset that you suggested having sex when he's clearly been frustrated for an ungodly amount of time, same as you. He imagines how Friday will play out--you said you're not expecting romance but how casual is too casual? Should he bring flowers? No, that's weird. Toys? No, you may not be into that stuff.
“Is Namjoon back yet?"
Jungkook shakes his head. “Nope. Why?"
"He borrowed something from me. I’ll get it later.”
"By the way, where were you? It’s weird that you’re out this late on a work night." Jungkook’s statement is not an attack, but Jimin feels an immediate need to either defend himself or hide underneath his bed. He’s not used to keeping secrets from the guys; is this what it feels like? Or is it just because the secret he’s keeping is you?
"I was at ___'s place.”
"None of your business."
"Is she okay?"
"She's fine," Jimin answers quickly, "but, umm actually, ___ asked me to help her with something, so I'm gonna go over Friday to help out too. I might be late, so tell ‘em not wait up."
Jungkook jumps off the counter and pumps his fists in excitement. "What does Noona need help with? Can I come too?”
Never in a million years would this doe-eyed angel give up the chance to show off his capability to help people. If there’s one thing Jimin appreciates about his younger roommate, it’s his innocent eagerness to help. He wonders if you would be opposed to Jungkook’s help, but after thinking it over for 0.0001 seconds, Jimin makes an executive decision.
"No, sorry, she said she only wants my help."
"Why?” Jungkook’s shoulders sag. “What's wrong?"
"Nothing. She just--she's a little embarrassed about it is all. I wouldn't mention any of this in front of her either," Jimin adds, hoping this snippet of conversation doesn't find its way back to you.
Jungkook impatiently pouts. “But I haven’t seen Noona in so long. She hasn’t seen my arms since I started working out either.” He starts flexing, causing Jimin to swallow when he peels back the material of his shirt from his biceps. “Impressive, right? I could pick her up easy now--”
"Aren't you too busy with uni anyway? How are your classes?" Jimin hands over the ramen, liquid sloshing in the bowl and almost spilling over the edge.
Jungkook takes it happily, slurping up a loud chunk of noodles before answering with his mouth full, "They're hard, thanks for asking," and walking away.
There’s hardly ever a room in this dorm without someone else occupying half of it, so since Jimin has this moment, he closes his eyes and breathes, not even taking the time to question where Seokjin is. He’s usually in the kitchen at this time in the evening, but honestly Jimin couldn’t care less.
Plopping his butt back on the living floor, Jimin tries to determine how much longer there is to watch the movie. Hoseok lets Taehyung cuddle his way into Jimin’s back while he uses the boy’s shoulder as a foot rest. If this was anyone else, Jimin might shove them away, but he can’t hurt his soulmate’s feelings. As usual, Taehyung gets what he wants.
The movie plays but Jimin doesn’t process the horror in front of him. He’s much too invested in the unrealistic hypothetical situations pushing him to overthink how to fuck someone so they want to do it again.
Yoongi reaches forward and knocks the back of Jimin’s head.
He smirks. "Girl troubles?"
"The opposite actually,” Jimin mumbles, slumping against the couch.
"Guy troubles?"
Maybe if you verbally apologize to your iPad, it’ll do what you want it to. Maybe if you hadn’t drunk that fourth cup of coffee, your brain wouldn’t be pounding inside your skull like a prisoner in a jail cell. There's just a lot of maybe's in your life right now.
Falling back in your chair, the world tips and so does your sanity. When did the office get so small?
“Please don’t mock me, Yoongi. I’m really stressed right now,” you groan, ripping the hair tie from your ponytail and angrily pulling at your hair until it’s three sizes it’s normal fluff. “This is ridiculous, how do they expect us to finish this with no basic material? Where are the guidelines? Where is the software? Where is the fucking inspiration?”
Your partner slides his chair over to you, rolling up his sweater paws like he’s going into war. With a gentle touch, he rubs soothing circles into your temples until your pulse calms down and begins combing out the impromptu knots in your hair. “It’s gonna be fine,” he assures you, silently asking for your hair tie.
Stuffing it into your pocket, you flash him the most pitiful puppy dog eyes you can manage. While Yoongi doesn’t necessarily like people, he likes you well enough, and his inability to hide his smile when you pout is a sure sign you’ve won him over. He guides your head to lean back once again, fingers scratching at your scalp and smoothing out your hair.
“That’s the stuff.” After a few deep breaths, you already start to feel better. “Sorry. I know it’s not life or death but sometimes it feels that way. I know what you're gonna say, and yeah I’m sexually frustrated, but also this project makes me wanna...we're redoing it over and over but I'm not sure how to make it not do whatever the hell it's doing."
"Maybe you've been too close to it for too long,” Yoongi suggests, subconsciously twisting your ponytail in his palm while he thinks. “Sometimes you gotta take a step back. You should get out. Go on a date or something."
"Like I have time to date someone. Even if I did, I don’t know anyone.”
"What about one of us?"
Your eyes pop open to see the upside down sight of the man who's possibly memorized you like the back of his hand. After working with him on multiple projects at this point, your company has highly praised your companionship and results, so they often pair you up to tackle the bigger projects. You tell him pretty much everything. But you don't feel like you can tell him about this.
"I'm not seeing any of you guys,” you reply, a flash image of Jimin’s smile in the back of your mind. Technically that is true (until tonight).
"Namjoon has been looking for someone to go to the aquarium with him. I'm sure he'd take you if you asked."
"I don't know,” you hesitate.
Yoongi reaches across your torso and digs his hand into your jacket pocket. "It's not like you're gonna sleep with any of us, that'd be weird." He pulls out your hair tie and neatly draws your bangs into a cute braid, "But we're friends and friends help each other."
"So, why don't you go out with Namjoon?"
"I would love to but I don't want to."
With that said, he scurries back to his side of the table and begins trashing most of the useless work you two did today, gesturing for you to do the same and causing tears to swell in your eyes. All those hours and nothing to show for it. Your level of productivity has hit rock bottom and you have to do something about this frustration before you end up pulling all your hair out.
You don’t blame Yoongi for suggesting you go on a date, relax, or even the other day when he suggested you get laid. He’s probably right anyway, which is exactly why you’ve been able to justify getting yourself tested so you can sleep with your best friend. It’s all for the sake of both your sanity and well-being, and Jimin’s too. You know he hasn’t been any better lately with all the crap his new boss gives him.
Like Yoongi said, you’re friends. Friends help each other.
"Okay, maybe I’ll think about it,” you finally reply, the delete button tormenting you beneath the tip of your stylus. “Later."
"So," you start, Jimin's shoes and jacket by the front door, "how should we...?"
He runs an unsure hand through his hair, the empty silence of your living room creating an unintended awkwardness, one both of you strived to avoid but we're seemingly unable to.
"You could start by kissing me," Jimin suggests.
"How come I have to start?"
"Because this was your idea, duh."
You cross your arms and embarrassingly stutter, "Yeah, but you--this is--I mean we both agreed to it."
"Touché." Jimin carefully uncrosses your arms, stepping closer and making your heart beat louder. Does he hear that? With his eyes now on your lips, you fight the urge to bite them. "We'll go at the same time then."
"Okay. That's fair."
It doesn't happen instantaneously. The feeling is gradual, it builds and builds until Jimin is screaming inside his head. Why the fuck has never kissed you before? He's thought about it briefly during game nights or back in uni during study dates, those times you chewed your lip when concentrating. When you had them resting on the end of your pen, pressing the button to pop and retract the tip again and again and again. But thinking about your lips and actually kissing them are two different things.
You're the girl next door, the girl of every guy's dream. And now, he thinks, the one who's going to star in his.
Your fingers carefully thread into his hair, finding solace there pulling at his roots as leverage to tug yourself closer. His arms naturally slip around your waist, hugging you tighter until his frame can fill each curve of your body. With your tongue asking for permission to lick inside his mouth and your breaths filling your lungs through your nose, it's like you're somehow breathing him in and he really likes the thought.
You taste like midnight and caramel candy, some odd mixture of sin and freedom. Jimin recognizes it as one of those tastes people get dangerously addicted to, but they don't necessarily care because once they have it, why in the world would they ever let it go?
It's weird because it's not weird. Actually, it feels so relieving to have someone's hands on you after so long. Seasons have changed outside your window since a pair of strong, thick hands have touched your waist, caressed your skin, painted your body. Granted, Jimin’s aren't exactly professional but you feel comfortable and that's what matters. They trace your hip bones and cup your ass and it's really nice to have someone hold you like that. When he gives you an experimental squeeze, your lips turn up against the kiss and Jimin shares your smile instantly.
Your kisses grow heated without warning until your back is pressed against the wall, one leg hooked around his waist and the other growing weaker by the second. The atmosphere shifts suddenly into something hungry. You can’t help the small moans and sighs that escape, and Jimin can’t help how undeniably hard he gets when you whisper his name like that. There's no denying how ridiculously sexually frustrated you both are and it shows in your desperate hands grabbing at each other like animals.
"Can I eat you out?"
His question catches you off guard, as it would. Hearing those words come from your best friend means you're crossing a boundary you can never uncross. The look on Jimin’s face says he knows this, but he asked anyway. Because he's dying to taste more of you, dying to have more of you.
"Yes, please."
The moment your answer is heard, you're off the ground, legs wrapped around Jimin's body as his strong arms carry you deep into your bedroom. He watches you the whole time, his eyes never once leaving your mesmerizing features. They don't need to; he knows your home like he knows each freckle on your nose.
Once dropped on the bed, it doesn't take long to cover the floor in clothes. Jimin's shirt, your pants and panties, his jeans, your top and bra. Nothing could have prepared for the sight of your best friend, naked and looming over you with a desperate, deliciously happy smile. You mirror his lips with a smile of your own and he kisses you once before traveling down your chest and tummy, leaving small pecks around your belly button to make you giggle.
It's so comfortable. Easy. Just like you wanted it to be. This is why you chose Jimin.
"I literally can't wait to taste you," he admits, sliding a finger between your folds. "You're so wet and I haven’t even licked you yet. Is it all for me?”
You're not typically one for a lot of dirty talk (probably because none of the guys you've dated have been), but it's becoming clearer that Jimin is, so you want to try too. After all, you want him to enjoy himself as much as you are so far. This arrangement is for both of you.
You lick your lips and nod. “It’s all for you.”
His mouth is way too hot, tongue like pure magic when it touches your clit. He takes his time tasting you deeply and thoroughly, slurping up the juices that drip down your thighs in response to his sinful mouth.
"Shit, your mouth is…" you don't really have words to use with your breath stolen like this.
Jimin licks his lips and peeks up from between your thighs. "What, baby?”
You swallow. Somehow the fact that Jimin’s literally sucking on your clit and tracing his teeth across your slit doesn’t embarrass you at all. But that nickname for sure as hell does.
"Don't be shy. When you moan like that it means I'm doing something right. You sound pretty too."
His arms wrap underneath your knees and push them to your chest, exposing you to the fullest you can be. You swear you hear him lowkey growl when he takes a long, agonizing lick across your crying pussy. With your entrance leaking faster than he can clean it, and his dick laughably hard in his boxers, Jimin closes his eyes and lets the sounds of your pleasure fuel his movements until you’re shaking under his mouth.
Tremors travel from your core to your neck, creating small but noticeable goosebumps across your skin. The vibrations from Jimin’s lips when he hums happily against your clit are enough to build a tight knot in your gut, the one that you've craved for much too long. His tongue licks into your cunt, slowly fucking you until you feel that knot about to snap.
“I’m close,” you whine, leaning into his explicit depiction of a starving man eating his first and final meal, “I’m gonna cum!”
It’s at this moment, Jimin does the one thing no sane man who is in the process of eating a woman out until she cries is supposed to do. He stops. Lifting himself up and over your denied and confused body, he leaves a soaked kiss against your temple and smirks.
“I’m into that,” he explains.
Your entire self wants to evaporate. “Orgasm denial?”
“Hm,” he confirms, sliding his tongue over your ear before taking it between his teeth, kind enough to ask you next, “what do you like?”
Fuck this man’s mouth is way too much for you to handle right now. You tear at his boxers, practically ripping them off his stupid, thick legs and then stroking his dick and holy shit it’s huge! Before you can even think about how difficult it’s gonna be for you to take him like this, you slide your grip around his cock and answer.
“I like it rough.”
“Okay then,” he chuckles into your hair, lifting himself to align his aching cock with your hole and teasing you with the tip sliding in and out. Shallow thrusts, but they’re enough to make you wanna moan again. With your small hand guiding him carefully, he pushes forward, a guttural ‘tight’ coming from the back of his throat.
Every muscle in his body tenses and relaxes simultaneously, an odd but extraordinary sensation he’s been missing; thank fuck you asked him and not someone else.
It feels warm, soft but also rigid, tight but also a perfect fit. However, it’s the feeling he gets in the forefront of his chest that’s different, like all the air is knocked right out of him and he can’t physically contain himself if he doesn’t kiss you right this second.
When he bottoms out and your back arches like that, a surge of pride courses through his body. Your eyes are already lidded, tiny gasps and sighs every time his dick involuntary twitches. That look, that feeling in the pit of his stomach when you start biting your lip just to stay sane because his cock stretches you out so fucking perfect. His lips press to yours, gently but firmly, an encouraging kind of kiss to distract you from the slight burn you must be feeling after not being intimate for so long.
"You take my cock so well, princess," he praises you, making your chest swell with pride too. "Does it hurt?"
"No," you reply unbelievably, slinking your arms around his shoulders to pull him further on top of you, "you feel so good inside me. You're just...big. Give me a second.”
Jimin (struggles) waits while your walls clench and spasm around him as you get used to his size, hips wiggling in anticipation. He notices the scrunch of your nose and the hiss of your lips every time he tries to move, so he stops.
You close your eyes and steady your breath because how does such an average sized dude have such a massive cock? It burns like hell after so long, but also how have you never noticed that Jimin has been carrying around a weapon of this dangerous proportion in his pants?
You're so ridiculously full, and while you love it, the uncomfortable burn is predominantly what you feel.
Without warning, plump lips fall onto your mouth, caressing your tongue and carefully nibbling at your bottom lip. It’s so soft and desperate, the way he kisses you, and you end up getting caught in it. Yes, you still notice when he starts pulling out only to gently snap his hips forward again. But your moan is muffled by the way he kisses you like you’re breakable, contrasted with the way he fucks you like nothing else matters.
After a few moments, the burn gives way to pleasure but you don’t really want him to stop kissing you. Granted your lips have started slipping, mouths gliding across one another's’ and breaths mingling heavily as he starts fucking faster. Jimin tucks his face into your neck, securing his teeth to your skin. If he cums right now, he'll never forgive himself.
"No marks," you remind him of that certain guideline with a whine. While he hopelessly wants to color your pretty skin with his teeth, he understands you're not comfortable having any physical evidence of your relationship left behind.
"Can't believe we've never done this." You can't see his face, but his breath on your skin and his words beside your ear are like an overload when you close your eyes, focusing on the way he hits that perfect spot inside you. "Fuck you're so tight, holy shit."
With everything else falling from the back of your minds--stress, worry, anxiety, fear, unknowns about the future--the two of you chase a high you've both been craving for the past forever. Then it hits you...fucking Jimin might end up being borderline therapeutic.
"Don't squeeze me like that," Jimin groans, lips tracing the words across your jaw until they reach your nose with a cute peck, "I'll cum inside you."
The thought only makes you shiver and clench tighter. Your best friend spilling his load into your pussy, stuffing you with his cum until it's dripping down your thighs and staining the sheets. Fuck you really want that.
"Do it."
"Cum inside me. It's safe. Let's cum together."
Jimin doesn't stall but he also can't ignore how romantic that is. Isn't it? Don't couples usually try to cum together because it creates emotional bonds or something? Not that he doesn't love you for everything you are and feel protective of you as his best friend, but he's not looking to fall for you during any of this, or make you fall for him.
He gazes at you underneath him like this, skin coated in sweat and cheeks flushed a perfect pink. You're thoroughly fucked and the sight of your naked body beneath him, chasing the same high he is, makes his heart skip a dangerous beat. Half of him says this is a bad idea but the other half just wants to release already and make you feel good too.
"Alright," he gives in, lowering to kiss you again, "let's do it together. Cum for me, babygirl."
Jimin gives his last twenty seconds all he has, brutally demolishing your cunt and pushing you over the edge into pure bliss. He empties into you, a broken sigh all he can manage when your back arches and your nails threaten to draw blood from his biceps. Thank god you live alone, but there's a large possibility your neighbors just heard your borderline pornographic cry.
Collapsing on top of you, Jimin feels weightless. The immense pressure is gone, all that stress and worry has dissipated in this moment. His skin is clear. His liver is clean. The sky is blue and the grass is green. Everything is good again. Heaven has sent him an angel and her name is ___.
"You're heavy."
"Just a minute," he requests, shifting his face to rest between your breasts and nuzzling happily. It feels natural to have his lips this close to your skin. "So soft."
You shove him off with a roll of your eyes and suck in a deep breath once your lungs aren't being crushed.
"That was amazing," you say with a sigh. When Jimin looks at you, your eyes are closed, peaceful, sleepy. When they open to find him staring, he whips his concentration to the ceiling, embarrassed to be caught watching you after he just fucked you.
"So, this is gonna keep happening then?" he asks tentatively.
"I want it to. Do you?"
He looks at you and bravely smiles, happy to find you with matching lips turned upward.
"Yeah. I do."
What is stress? By definition, Jimin believes it to be a state of mental or emotional strain or tension resulting from adverse or very demanding circumstances.
(At least, that's what Google told him.)
His new boss, Mr. Long, is an adverse or very demanding circumstance, one that Jimin has been working overtime to impress in hopes of getting the raise he probably should have gotten two years ago. So far, he's gotten nowhere. Not that Mr. Long is unpleasant to work for but it takes an awful lot to even remotely impress him. Talk about high expectations.
People look down on office administrators, but those guys work damn hard at their jobs, Jimin should know. And he used to dread going into work...that is, until he started sleeping with you.
Somehow, his days have brightened and his whole attitude is so much easier to regulate. The amount of determination he feels when he walks into the office has skyrocketed, so much so that he looks forward to working in a cubicle with no windows or real plants.
It hasn't been long since he agreed to be your friend with benefits, but he can't help but notice the positive change it's caused in his life. He won't lie and say he didn't question your proposal at first, but after being in your bed and then seeing the improvement in his attitude and work ethic, he questions why he never suggested it himself.
He also feels proud of himself for not breaking a single guideline. As far as he knows, no one is suspecting your relationship and you've previously mentioned how much better you feel after sleeping with him too. All around, this is turning out to be a great idea, one that has Jimin's pulse racing when he thinks about you, wishing he was next to you listening to you laugh when he blows raspberries into your tummy. He can’t wait to see you again.
"Jimin, can I see you in my office, please?"
The day is technically over, but Jimin stayed behind to finish organizing a few files for a coworker who took a half day. He sets the folders aside and follows Mr. Long into his office, shutting the door behind him.
"Yes, sir?"
"I wanted to talk to you about the Granson case," his boss begins, pulling out the file and dropping it on his desk.
"Is something wrong?"
"Quite the opposite actually." He taps a finger on the manila paper and chuckles, "These reports you made are amazing."
"Thank you, Sir," Jimin replies with an easy sigh.
"Not too long ago, I'll admit I was considering transferring you to a different department--you seemed unhappy and that frustration was affecting your work so I thought maybe you would want to be somewhere else--but after seeing you come through so well with this case, I couldn't even think about it," his boss explains. "I'm not sure what's different or what you did, but keep doing it and that promotion is yours."
Little does Mr. Long realize, Jimin's been doing you, and he intends on continuing for as long as he can.
Jimin beams, putting aside the fact that his boss was considering dropping his ass on another department. His heart suggests he tell you all about it before anyone else, considering you're the main reason he's been feeling so much better lately. You'll probably smile. That would be nice.
As soon as he's dismissed, he whips out his phone and scrolls to your messages.
chim: how's your day?
y/n: actually really good! I think I had a breakthrough with this project and we're finally back on track thank god
chim: that's awesome! My boss basically told me if I keep up my work I'll get that promotion soon
y/n: wow congrats!
chim: can I see you tonight?
y/n: yes! I'm headed home now so whenever you want come over. I'll cook something cuz I'm hungry and let you have some cuz I'm nice
chim: haha sounds good
chim: hey ___?
y/n: yeah
chim: thanks for sleeping with me
chim: ….hello??
y/n: you're so weird
Maybe he is, but Jimin doesn't let your comment get to him. In fact, it's kinda cute. He imagines you're walking down a street similar to the one he's trudging on and blushing at your phone, oblivious to the side glances other guys give to your pink cheeks and giggles and sweet smile and--
A sudden punch to his gut ruins the daydream. What happened? He was enjoying his life two seconds ago and now suddenly he's very upset. Is the thought of other guys flirting with you really making him physically nauseous? He rubs his tummy and forces the thoughts from his mind. Not right now, he can't deal with that right now.
A delicious, tantalizingly sweet smell greets him a few minutes before he unlocks the dorm and steps into a cloud of sugar scented ectacy. When did Willy Wonka visit his humble abode?
"You're back!" Namjoon calls, head poking around the corner.
"What happened to you?" Jimin asks, referring to his hyung's adorably powdered forehead and cheekbones. "Are you...baking? Dude, that's dangerous. Where's Seokjin?"
"Here!" The older boy's hand appears in a wave from around the corner before it pulls Namjoon out of sight again. Jimin kicks off his shoes and trips his way to see the state of the kitchen.
To his surprise, it's still standing and no fingers are lost.
Seokjin is currently piping icing while Namjoon sprinkles decorations on the tops of mini, vanilla desserts.
"He asked me to help him," Seokjin informs with a grin. "I've been meaning to get back into baking so I was more than happy too."
Jimin chuckles, patting his roommate on the back with a playful hiss. "Your funeral."
"Actually, Namjoon is doing really well."
"Yeah, so don't underestimate me just yet," Namjoon says, followed by a loud cackle because who is he kidding. He can't bake.
Jimin picks up one of the treats to investigate and smacks his lips. It looks really tasty.
"They're for you."
"Yeah! ___ texted Yoongi about your upcoming promotion and he told the rest of us. Dude!" A friendly knock to Jimin's shoulder leaves his sweater dusted in leftover flour and his balance thrown into the side of the counter. "You're finally being recognized for all your blood sweat and tears! This is awesome!"
"Thanks," he chuckles, trying not to roll his shoulder. Some things you just suffer for the sake of your friends. "I'm really grateful to be where I am and to be with you guys, you know?"
Seokjin hands over a cupcake and a bag of pink icing. Not that Jimin particularly likes pink but now that he sees it, it's pretty. He starts doing dollops and polka dots with subtle dots of purple, quietly humming along to the song inside his head. As his décor becomes more complex, so do his thoughts.
Who knew baking could be so therapeutic?
"We noticed you're a lot happier lately," Seokjin comments while plating the finished desserts, "We're happy for you."
For some reason, Jimin doesn't find himself sharing many smiles with the oldest of their group. Not that Seokjin isn't totally dope in his own way, but oftentimes, the two boys tend to pass by each other. Especially lately with so much work piling on Jimin's plate. He really only has time for eating and sleeping. And now, you.
"Are we decorating already?" Yoongi claps happily as he enters the crowded kitchen, throwing his arms around Jimin's waist and resting his chin on the boy's shoulder. "Should I help?"
"If you want to. There's some undecorated ones on the tray over there. Have at 'em."
Namjoon beams. Having so many of his favorite people in one place like this doing something so fun together makes him feel like he's won the lottery.
Yoongi chose blue for his cupcakes, a nice contrast to the several pink and purple shades Jimin has been putting out. He can't help it. They remind him of something really soft.
"A heart?" Yoongi sings with a teasing smirk on his lips, causing every head to whip in Namjoon's direction. "I know Jimin's cute but I didn't know you were that into him."
Namjoon drops his cupcake with a gasp. The shock on his face tells the boys he didn't even realize what he was doing. "Shit, sorry."
"You don't have to apologize," Jimin says and picks up the abandoned cake, playing off his curiosity with a simple shrug. "Stuck in dreamland?"
Seokjin leans in closer and offers a mischievous grin. "Wanna share with the class?"
Namjoon's silence doesn't do much to convince them his impromptu heart cupcake was an accident. The deep blush covering his ears is a dead giveaway, one Seokjin finds almost as cute as his cupcakes.
"I think I'm getting feelings for someone maybe sort of."
"Seriously? Who?"
"I don't wanna say just yet."
Seokjin gawks. The idea of love has always been one he's fawned over, and while he himself has never been lucky enough to experience it romantically, that doesn't stop him from living vicariously through anyone he can get his hands on. "Don't be shy, tell us. Who's the lucky recipient of your love-cake?"
"No one."
"Ehh, come on. It's not like I have anyone to tell or like I would tell anyone anyway. Plus it's not like I need another reason to tease you. Just spill."
But Namjoon remains hesitant. "Well, I'm still not even sure if they like me or someone else. So, I can't say yet."
"Well, once you get your answer will you tell us?" Jimin asks, keeping his eyes turned to his project of finishing these cupcakes as soon as possible, so he can eat one already.
"If they agree to go out with me," Namjoon decides, "then I'll tell you. But until then, please don't ask me who it is. It's embarrassing."
Yoongi sighs, "Fine. I'll just invade someone else's personal space then." And with that he places his one finished dessert on the plate next to Seokjin's and makes his exit. "I'm going to find Hobi."
That night goes just as Seokjin and Namjoon planned. Except their guest of honor slipped out somewhere half way through the celebration to presumably buy more drinks from the convenience store.
Yoongi offers to meet him in the driveway to help haul in the treasure of cheap liquor he's so graciously bought for his own party, but Yoongi's more so helping out of suspicion.
The 7/11 is only a ten minute drive tops. Either Jimin is the slowest driver in the history of drivers...or he didn't go straight to the store and back like he said he would.
You always thought it was funny, how insanely wrong Starbucks spells your name. Like it's a hard name to spell or they didn't hear it after you repeated yourself three times to the barista. Although, you suppose it's better to get your name wrong than your coffee order. It's incredible how much of an uprising the words "dairy allergy" can cause.
As usual, you're scraping the whipped cream off your dairy free caramel macchiato in preparation for an upcoming all-nighter, when a familiar sound sings from across the café.
You look up to see a gleeful Namjoon making his way over to you, the evening glow coming through the windows makes him appear almost angelic, drenched in a warm orange shine that makes his skin more delicious than your coffee. You've always thought Namjoon was attractive.
"I didn't know you come here too?"
"There's usually coffee at the office, but Yoongi and I drank it all over the week so…" you explain with a small laugh, one that has Namjoon chuckling along.
"You must really like coffee."
"I guess," you shrug, taking a gander around the room. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm also a coffee connoisseur," he informs you with a puff of his chest, but you shake your head, his attempt to sound high class deflates and makes you giggle. "Uhh, I just like their cakes."
It's been a long day already, so sharing this comfortable laugh with one of your friends lights a spark inside your chest, one that you suspect will help you get through the rest of your day. God forbid your to do list magically disappear after seven thirty.
"Are you working tonight?"
"Oh yeah. We're so close to being done with this project and then I can breathe hopefully."
"Can I walk you to your building?" he offers with a gentle smile and a helpful gesture to the door.
"I don't wanna bother you."
"It's not a bother at all! I'm headed that way anyway. Come on, I'll walk you."
Without giving you a chance to refuse him again, he offers his arm, which you tentatively accept and the two of you begin strolling back towards your office. Inside you're dreading having to sit in that stupid chair and look at those stupid designs again, but at least you have some company to watch the bustling city life with you on the way.
Namjoon feels toasty next to you despite it being the beginning of Spring. He whistles softly in between the loud sounds of shops closing and car horns blaring. While you always liked working in the city, living in it was something you could probably do without.
"So, this project," Namjoon starts again after a few moments of silence, "is it for a client?"
"A big one. They pretty much fund half our current payroll. We didn't wow them enough with our last presentation so this one really needs to hit a home run."
"That's why you're stressed lately," he presumes, stroking his chin as if he's a detective putting together the roughest case of his career. He amuses you.
"Plus some other stuff."
"Like what?"
"I don't wanna bore you."
He stops in his tracks, pulling you back when your feet want to keep going. "You never bore me, ___. I like it when you tell me about your life."
"Oh…well, it's kinda hard to say."
"I didn't mean you have to tell me if you don't want to, of course."
"No it's not that," you assure him, starting to walk again and this time he goes with you, "it's just that I don't want to gossip. It involves someone else and I'm not sure talking about it is the right thing to do. I want to respect their privacy."
Jimin's privacy. You're not the only one carrying this secret in their back pocket. The one about your best friend fucking you almost every night, about you voluntarily being on your literal knees with his dick down your throat, about all your dreams being stained with the image of Jimin's head between your legs.
"I really like that about you."
"You're constantly thinking of others, how they feel, how your words affect the people around you. I really look up to the way you conduct yourself so selflessly." Namjoon's words bring you pause. If only he knew. No, you might actually panic if he found out. "Also you're really pretty."
Your cheeks are pink but not for the reason Namjoon thinks. "Thank you."
"Are you working this weekend?"
"I hope not. I've got a business trip next week and I'm planning on taking at least one day off before then."
"Would you maybe like to go with me to the aquarium on Saturday?"
You stop at the entrance to your building, key card in hand and a cute tilt to your head. "Isn't it closed?"
"It opened last week," he tells you with a gleam in his eye. "There's a bunch of new animals and displays to check out. If you don't want to, that's totally fine."
"Sure, that sounds fun," you agree nonchalantly, smiling a friendly goodbye as you slide your key to open the building, but just as you turn to head inside--
"The aquarium on Saturday…"
Oh god. You know that look, the shy stare, hand on the back of the neck, bitten lip, red tipped ears--he is, isn't he. He's gonna say it.
"...I was hoping it could be like a date."
"You're asking me on a date?"
"I know you've said before that you don't have time to date and it's hard, but I'd really like to take you out just once. Just to talk and maybe see if this is something worth your time?"
He's so innocent and special and handsome and he means so well, your heart physically aches with guilt just looking at him. But it's not like you've done anything wrong. You and Jimin started sleeping together long before you had even a clue that Namjoon was going to ask you out.
What harm can one date do? After all, there's nothing in your guidelines that says you can't go on a date while seeing Jimin. Granted, you started seeing him because you didn't have time to date, but like Namjoon said, maybe a relationship could be something worth your time? Despite your serious doubts that if you do decide to be in a relationship it'll be with say yes.
The feeling of a hot tongue kitten licking your nipple makes your heart race like a bullet train. Such a small movement and yet your entire body trembles. The restraints on your wrists only prove to tighten the more you pull, bed frame above your head knocking against the wall with each harsh tug you give. Every inch of your body is lit on fire, the blindfold around your eyes only proving to be the perfect cherry on top of the cake.
Jimin loves it. Loves the way your body reacts to his tongue, the way your breasts bounce when your back arches, when he drags his teeth over your nipple, returning to sooth the pinch with a loving suck or two. His fingers trace teasing circles between your folds, dusting over your clit and making your body jerk in pleasure when he pushes two digits inside.
"Stunning," he whispers into your skin, "so fucking pretty and soft and beautiful."
His praise makes you feel desirable and sexy and only means to amplify the sensation of his lips now on the inside of your thighs. His hands are so gentle compared to his teeth, biting your flesh and leaving colorful bruises in their wake until he reaches right where you're dying to have him.
"Your body is perfect, baby."
The result of Jimin edging you for the last twenty minutes soaks the material underneath your legs, the same legs that'll be purple and blue in the morning, but you can't complain considering you were the one who agreed he could use his teeth. When the guy you're sleeping with literally gets on his knees to explain his love language is biting, what are you supposed to do?
After a very one sided (conversation) scolding concerning the hickey he left on your shoulder, the two of you came to the agreement that he could mark you as long as it couldn't be seen. This proved to turn Jimin on more than you thought it would, knowing you had evidence of his time between your legs sitting prettily on your skin, just waiting for the wind to blow your skirt and reveal it to the world. He didn't know why all of sudden he became obsessed with shoving it in the face of everyone he passed on the street, he was just very proud and grateful to be the only one tucked between your legs on a regular basis.
Between the legs of someone so incredibly beautiful and sexy and sincere and sweet and...oh fuck.
"Please," you gasp when his breath fans over your slit. But much to your dismay, your core is left dripping and cold. You let out a whine and try to wiggle your wrists free.
Your surroundings are blackened, but you know exactly where Jimin is thanks to his undying need to feel as much of your skin as possible at all times. He follows the curve of your body with his hands, paying deserved attention to your sides, breasts, and collarbones. And then he reaches your neck, wrapping his fingers around it, he applies just the smallest bit of pressure.
"I'll give you what you want but you have to do something for me," he says, ghosting his lips across your swollen ones, "sit on my face."
"Hu--" your attempt to react is blocked by his grip on your neck. The subtle lack of oxygen only amplifies the feeling of his crotch grinding against your core. Jimin kisses you, and even though he allows his grip to loosen, his mouth takes your breath away.
You've talked about it before, back when your relationship was just starting and the two of you were still learning each other, what was okay, what was not okay. How rough you liked it and what kind of kinks Jimin wanted to try. You were pretty much open to all of them, although riding his face gave you pause at the time.
Now? After spending enough time in each other's company and thinking about what to try next, you were sure this was what you wanted to do too.
"Whatdya say, babygirl?" Jimin asks again, knowing full well the effect that nickname has on you.
"I'd like that." You nod and pull at your restraints, wanting so desperately to run your fingers through his beautiful, luscious hair when he kisses you like this. Jimin smiles and removes your blindfold followed by your bonds, bringing your wrists to his lips one by one and thanking them with gentle kisses.
Placing your palms against his bare chest, you urge him to roll over, a devilishly excited grin to match your eagerness crawling over his body. Starting with a simple straddle, you decide to take your time now. It's not everyday Jimin willingly lets you top, so this is something to savor. He also thoroughly enjoys eating your pussy, so this is kinda the best of both worlds.
Cupping his cheeks, you begin with a slow, sensual kiss, one that has Jimin's heart beating faster but not for the reason you would assume. You still taste like sin and freedom, although recently--and Jimin doesn't fully understand why--he's noticed a hint of something spicy, something dangerous but also addictive. Something he really really likes. A lot.
Of fucking course, he is.
Moving up, you place your thighs on either side of his head and balance yourself with one hand on his bed frame. It shouldn't feel weird considering you've had Jimin's tongue down there before plenty of times by now, but being on top is definitely a different feeling. Maybe even a better feeling. You feel more powerful like first.
As soon as his tongue touches you, it's all you can do not to moan, instantly gripping his hair and pulling without restraint while you crumble at the sensation.
"J-Jimin! Fuck…"
Two thick hands grab your ass and hold you steady because even after a few moments, your legs are shaking. Part of you is worried you'll suffocate him, but Jimin must not be thinking the same since he pulls you down closer, drinking your juices like a man in a desert, tongue tracing tight circles over your clit and moans like a vibrator shooting straight through you.
It's about this point he usually removes his mouth, looks up at you with some nasty smirk and says something completely disgusting that somehow makes you even wetter. But not this time.
His tongue is relentless, the sounds of your moans and attempts not to chant his name like music to his ears. Grinding against his face you feel your high approaching quickly.
"Please let me cum, fuck baby please don't stop," you beg, closing your eyes and focusing on how fucking good this feels.
Jimin's fingers dig into your flesh, rendering you helpless aside from the desperate rock of your hips. When his tongue enters you, it's all over. His tongue fucks you at such an agonizingly slow pace, but it's more than enough to push you over the edge.
With a call of his name, you cum on his face, unashamed and out of breath.
He guides you through your high, cleaning up the leftovers on your thighs afterwards while you try to catch your breath. Shifting downward, you make it to his middle before collapsing, everything hitting you all at once.
"Sorry," you whisper into his chest, "my legs feel numb."
"You can stay here," he assures you, petting your head and smiling. He lays his head back and rests his eyes, your orgasm glistening on his lips. "Actually, can you roll to your back?"
"I guess," you whine, not ready to admit you really like being on his chest like that, more than you probably should.
Jimin helps you roll over, your bare body on full, beautiful display for him, and all he can think about is all the things he wants to do for you.
So, he does them.
First he takes a warm, wet cloth and cleans between your legs, from your ankles to your waist. Taking his time to clean your skin and leaving small kisses on your knees and hips.
"What are you doing?"
"It's called aftercare."
"I know what it's called," you roll your eyes, "but why are you doing it?"
He shrugs, sliding his favorite pair of shorts over your ass and giving it a loving spank. Hovering over you, eyes rich like diamonds with strips of gold, he smiles and says, "Cuz I want to."
No matter how skeptical you wish you could be, when he slips his t-shirt over your shoulders and pulls you into his embrace, making you feel so small and special tucked under his chin, you can't find it in yourself to stop him.
"For what?"
Soft fingers draw small, random pictures across your back while your lips leave grateful, lazy kisses on his neck.
"Being so nice to me. How can I make it up to you?"
"Buy me food?" Jimin suggests, his heart beating just a little faster in his chest and it doesn't go unnoticed. "Are you free Saturday? We can get pizza and take it to the park or something. Just to talk and stuff."
Despite being caught completely off guard because you were 100% expecting him to tell you to pay him back with a blowjob or something, not pizza at the park. You manage to remember a promise you made to another handsome gentleman the other day.
"I can't. Namjoon asked me to go to the aquarium with him on Saturday and I don't know when we'll get back."
"Okay, I'll be busy Sunday, but how about Monday?"
"I leave for my business trip, remember?"
Jimin perks up, pulling back so he can see your face. "You're leaving? As in I won't see you?"
"We can video chat at night if you want, but yeah."
"Next week. I told you about this."
"No, you didn't," he says blatantly.
"Yeah, I did."
"I don't remember."
"Sorry, I'm not super excited either," you assure him with a frown. "I'm supposed to be presenting and I have no idea what I'm going to say. Plus it's like a six hour flight and I hate flying."
Not that your problems are his responsibilities at all, but that stressed out look on your face makes Jimin feel uneasy. He just gave you probably the best orgasm of your life and you're frowning?
"You're really stressed about this, huh?"
"Little bit."
Without thinking, Jimin leans forward and places a lingering kiss against your lips. "Whatever you need, just let me know, okay? I'll do anything I can for you."
It feels warm, a good kind of nervousness that makes your stomach flutter and your eyes sparkle. As much as you wish you could ignore the feelings bubbling up inside you, you know they won't be able to stay suppressed for long. Not if Jimin keeps pulling crap like that.
For once, Jimin has nothing to do on a Saturday. He's finished cleaning his part of the dorm, eaten a light breakfast, watched the latest episode of his favorite show, AND hit his head on the wall in hopes of forgetting the other night.
A kiss? Seriously? What is he, stupid? Did he somehow manage to look past the fact that you are not his girlfriend and see some sign that said it was okay for him to kiss you like that? What he did was clearly against the guidelines and there's no pretending it was an accident.
He looked straight into your eyes, kissed you without the intention of fucking, and then promised he would do whatever he needed to to be there for you. You know, like how a romantic partner usually does.
The worst part is that he knows he won't see you again before you leave for your business trip. You're spending all of today with Namjoon, he's gonna be busy all Sunday, and then your flight leaves at an ungodly hour in the morning.
He could text you and apologize for kissing you so lovingly while snuggling in bed and silently fanboying over how perfect you look in his clothes.
Or he could shove his lips into a blender. That works too.
Jimin slouches into the living room where Taehyung and Hoseok sit crisscross on the loveseat, controllers in hand and competitive curses on their tongues.
"Have you guys seen my Manga?"
"Which one?" Taehyung asks, his eyes focused on the screen.
"The one with the guy with the sword on the front."
"You mean the one with the girl with massive boobs on the front standing next to a guy with the sword?"
Jimin sighs, "Yes, that one."
Hoseok gestures with his elbow to the back of the dorm. "Think it's in Namjoon's room. He was reading it yesterday."
Namjoon's room is neat enough, he should be able to find it quickly. The cover is pretty noticeable after all. Jimin makes his way down the hall and--
"By the way the story is actually really deep and her character isn't all boobs, she's just drawn that way."
"Whatever, dude," both boys chant simultaneously before returning to their race, bodies tilting this way and that in hopes that it will make their characters drift sharper.
Flicking on the light, Jimin scans the room for a starting point. Somewhere Namjoon would leave a Manga. Probably his bedside? Jimin decides to look there first, but no luck.
He checks under some book stacked in the corner and behind the curtain on the window seat but comes up empty handed each time.
Scavenging through Namjoon's desk, Jimin doesn't find his Manga, but he does manage to locate another book Namjoon must have recently borrowed from Yoongi called ‘Graphic Design for Dummies’.
Jimin snickers to himself. Why would Namjoon need to know about graphic design? He works at a bank.
A folded note falls from the pages when Jimin flickers through them, landing softly on his foot face down. He picks it up and reads without thinking, his curiosity winning against his better judgement.
Slowly, Jimin's eyes widen the more he reads.
This is a love you?
The wording is elegant and electric, filled with passion and uncertainty, about a slowly developing mix of feelings one experiences when their attraction towards another person starts to grow significantly.
Namjoon likes you. And if this letter is anything to go on, he's starting to like you a lot.
Do you know? Are you even aware of Namjoon's feelings? Jimin wonders if you have similar feelings and, if so, who are they for? He shouldn't have anything to worry about considering you chose to sleep with him because you don't have the time or energy to put into a serious relationship. If Namjoon were to ask you to be his girlfriend, you would say no. Clearly. Obviously. Probably?
Quickly, he tucks the letter between the pages and places the book back where it was. All of sudden he feels very vulnerable being here, so he makes a quick exit and locks himself in his own room.
With no Manga and no way to distract his thoughts, all he has left to do is sit around and pout over not being able to see you because you're on a date with Namjoon. The thought makes him sick to his stomach. The two of you, walking through the aquarium together all wide eyed and excited while Namjoon quotes fun facts, obviously to impress you. You're probably enjoying yourself. Hell, Jimin wouldn't mind it if Namjoon took him on a fun date and told him fun facts about fish.
You're probably strolling through that fancy tunnel under the water and there's rainbow fish and dolphins and lights and your hands accidentally touch which makes you shy but then Namjoon takes your hand anyway and your heart starts racing because he's fucking Namjoon and the man is gorgeous and then he's leaning in and you close your eyes and then your lips touch and--
Jimin shoots up in bed, clutching his chest tightly.
"I had a really fun time, thanks for suggesting the aquarium. You're right, it's way underrated. How come people don't talk about it more often?"
Namjoon giggles, your smile in and of itself makes him smile too. "Right? I don't know, people just don't understand what they're missing."
"Well, thank you for showing me what I was missing." Stepping up to your front door, you turn to face the man who's successfully saved your Saturday. "I thought I would be spending today worrying about tomorrow, but I actually didn't think about my trip at all."
"Good. I wanted to make today stress free for you."
With a cute thumbs up and a wink, you let him know, "Mission accomplished."
He gives you a big smile and you wave goodnight before pulling out your key to head inside, but much like the last time you tried to leave, Namjoon stops you.
"Wait, umm ___? I'd like to say something before I go, if that's okay."
You give him your full attention. Of course, you've already noticed the return of the shy stare, the hand on the back of the neck, the bitten lip, the red tipped ears, but you uselessly attempt to act oblivious for no reason.
"What's up?"
"Look, you probably already guessed because I can't hide my expressions at all, but I like you and, after today, I really like you." He sucks in a breath and looks directly in your eyes, the light from your front door is bright enough to illuminate the two of you, but everything else is pitch black, making Namjoon appear that much more present and broad. "So? What do you think? Is this…" he gestures to himself and then to you, "...something worth your time?"
Well when he phrases it like that, no matter how you reject him it's going to sound awful.
Still, you have to be honest. Namjoon is such a good guy and that makes this even harder, because there's absolutely no reason why you shouldn't be madly in love with him. But when you're here, under the stars, coming back from an amazing day, just the two of you, don't feel anything except guilt for not feeling anything.
"I'm seeing someone else. A friend...sorta."
"Can I ask who?"
Even though you told yourself you would be honest with him two sentences ago, now you really wanna hide.
"You know what, nevermind," he says quickly, "I don't think I wanna know. Thank you for telling me. I appreciate your honesty."
"You're not mad?"
"Why would I be mad? We went on one date and it was a great date and, yeah, I really like you, but you like someone else already. It sucks but you still gave me a chance. So...thanks for an awesome date."
Part of you starts to wonder if you could develop romantic feelings for Namjoon, but the other sober part of you knows you're just hella impressed by his mature response.
He spreads his arms in request for a hug and shrugs.
With a smile, you fall into his embrace and allow him to wrap his arms around your waist, leaning on your tiptoes to reach around his neck.
"See ya later, Joonie."
Once you're inside, the shoes come off. Doesn't matter that you were in flats all day, the fact of the matter is that you just walked several miles worth of aquarium in one day and your feet feel like pudding. Throwing on your pajamas, you sit your butt on your couch and revel in being alone. Feels like all you've been doing lately is jumping from one meeting to the next and then you get off work to go hang out with more people.
Too much. It's too much people-ing.
Wrapping yourself in your favorite blanket, you feast on dairy free chocolate and wine until you feel like you could be physically ill, and then you stretch out on the couch and binge just one more episode.
By the time midnight rolls around, you feel much better. It's still relatively early, but you've had a long day and since it'll probably take you a few hours to fall asleep and you have to be up early, you decide to head to bed.
A few hours later, you decide sleep is impossible and unlock your phone instead.
y/n: Are you awake?
chim: Yeah what's up?
y/n: I can't sleep.
chim: Did you take melatonin?
y/n: I don't have any.
chim: Are you stressed?
y/n: Actually not really. I drank way too much wine and binged Netflix.
chim: Haha sounds nice. Wish I could have joined you.
y/n: Do you wanna come over?
chim: It's after 2am.
y/n: And?
chim: Good point.
There's a knock on your door in the next fifteen minutes and you rush to answer it. You have to stop yourself from greeting Jimin with a kiss and instead offer a lingering hug and muffled 'thanks for coming.'
"Did you sneak out?"
Jimin chuckles, hands still at your waist, holding you close but you really don't mind. "I told Seokjin I was gonna pull an all-nighter at the office."
"So, you can stay as long as you want?" you ask hopefully.
Jimin nods and your sleepy grin grows.
"Do you wanna just stay the night then?"
"Isn't that against the guidelines?"
Technically, he is right. Rule #3 to be exact, but you'd like to forfeit some of those less important rules now. They're not really as prominent as they were when you started this whole thing anyway.
"Just once won't hurt," you sing, tightening your hold around his shoulders which brings your face closer to his, lips mere centimeters from tasting him. "Besides, it's raining."
A light misty fog would be a more accurate statement, but Jimin only nods, a serious expression of consideration as his hands inconspicuously slide their way to your ass.
"Hmm, it'd probably be dangerous for me to drive back in this weather. Plus, I did say I was pulling an all-nighter. I'd hate to lie."
"Exactly." You jump into his arms, giggling like a schoolgirl when he starts carrying you to your bedroom. "Besides, there's plenty of work you can do here, baby."
Sex with Jimin remains immaculate in the sense that no matter what he does, it's somehow always perfect. The bedframe marks your wall the way his teeth mark your thighs. Plump lips and a sinful tongue edge you along until Jimin feels graceful enough to fuck you on all fours through two mind-blowing orgasms. But the night isn't over until you feel his hot cum at the back of your throat and you can show him you swallowed like a good girl.
The two of you collapse on the sheets, heavy breaths and sweaty chests. A single silent look is all you two need to communicate perfectly and Jimin helps you get into the shower, jumping in with you a moment later. He offers to tie your hair up so it doesn't get wet and washes your back, to which you do the same because--like Yoongi always says--friends help each other out.
"Ready to sleep?" you ask once you're both in clean clothes and tucked under clean sheets. Having Jimin keep a pair of spare comfy shorts at your place ended up being a great idea after all.
"Actually, yes."
"Think you can keep your hands to yourself?"
"Worry about yourself."
But you don't. Rolling to your side with a content smile, you feel Jimin's arm wrap around your waist and drag you into his chest. You never want to feel small but maybe this moment can be an exception. The feeling of his heartbeat through your back pulls you into a pleasant sleep, his lips gently resting on the back of your shoulder, and his fingers lazily interlocking with yours.
"Sleep tight, baby."
The clock says 4:12am.
You're not a typically deep sleeper in any sense but certain things tend to make you more restless than others. Like the feeling of a half hard dick pressing into your back.
After an unnecessary amount of shifting, you roll over in Jimin's arms to find him awake and frustrated.
"Did I wake you up?" he asks groggily.
"Are you hard right now?"
You roll your eyes but can't help the amused smile that breaks out on your face. "Oh my god…"
Jimin sighs, a pitiful pout on his lips. "I know this is asking a lot but could I just be inside you?"
"Babe, I'm too tired--"
"I won't move or anything, I just really want to feel you around me. You're always so warm and soft," he begs quietly, pulling you closer so your legs intertwine and his hips can rut against your thigh. "Just for a few minutes. Wanna fill you up, babygirl."
"You mean cock warming?"
"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"
"Yeah," you chuckle, which then turns into a yawn, "and I don't mind. Come here."
Within moments, his dick warm and settled between your legs, Jimin feels the familiar sweep of sleep over his eyes. He smiles and whispers your name to you in his last moments of consciousness, hands held on your waist and heated body intertwined with your limbs.
Your gentle hand presses to his chest but he doesn't budge.
"Are you asleep?"
Jimin doesn't respond. His steady breaths could be a façade but through the darkness, you can't tell if his shut eyelids are fluttering while dreaming or lying.
With pursed lips, you press a cute kiss to his nose, thinking he would flinch. Nothing happens.
"I'm gonna say this once but I'm still scared, so please don't wake up, okay?" You swallow, your arms curling into your chest as you press yourself as close as you can to feel the warmth of Jimin's sleeping state, his cock tucked deep inside you and filling you comfortably. The intimacy sends you to a place you never expected to be and you can feel your fight or flight instincts beginning to cry.
"I'm falling in love with you, Park Jimin. And that's why I have to end this."
Everyone hates Mondays. There's not a single person on this hellish planet that likes Mondays. If someone tells you they like Mondays, they either meant to say some other day, or they're insane and you should run away.
Unless they're Kim Namjoon.
"Why are you smiling?" Yoongi yawns, rubbing his eyes as he pours his second cup of coffee for the morning.
"It's Monday."
"It's annoying. Stop being so happy, please."
Namjoon rolls his eyes and straightens his tie in the living room mirror. "Just because it's Monday doesn't mean it has to be a bad day. Today could end up being the greatest day of your life but you would never know because you've got your head stuck in a nimbostratus cloud."
Yoongi slowly lowers his mug with heavy bags under his eyes and a zoned out expression. "The fuck…?"
"You know, the clouds that produce the most rain."
"I’m going away now," Yoongi declares as he slumps his way back to his room, coffee steaming from his mug and a peace sign thrown over his shoulder.
With a light shake of his head, Namjoon slips on his shoes, grabs his usual breakfast of a granola bar and banana, and makes his way out the d--
The boy is frozen where he stands, hand extended for the door knob and what seems to be an extra set of clothes tucked under his other arm.
"Namjoon, hi," he replies quickly, a tremor in his voice that doesn't go unnoticed. "What are you doing?"
"I'm heading to work. Are you just now getting back?"
"Uh, yeah, I pulled an all-nighter at the office."
"I thought that was Saturday night."
"It was," Jimin confirms, smacking his lips. "I pulled two. In a row."
Technically, he was busy with work all day Sunday so part of that is true. Although Namjoon seems suspicious...probably because Jimin is being very suspicious right now. He wants to ask about the cluster of dirty clothes but maybe that's better left alone. Namjoon starts to think he doesn't want to know where Jimin actually was all weekend.
"Wow, you must be really tired then."
With a big stretch and a (obviously fake) yawn, Jimin squeezes his way past his roommate and into the house, effectively exchanging places so Namjoon is on the outside and Jimin has an easier escape route.
"My boss--the new one--is really stacking up the work since the promotion so, gotta stay on top of my game as they say."
Namjoon forces a smile and nods. "Well, when you have a free day, let me know. You should take a break every once in a while. I'd be glad to do something with you."
"Oh yeah, how did your date with ___ go?"
As soon as the words leave his mouth, Jimin starts looking for a cliff to jump off of. He doesn't want to know about their date! Or apparently he does since his brain made the executive decision to ask about it. It's safe to assume anything that concerns you, concerns Jimin since he's officially low-key falling for you, and he knows you're particularly embarrassed about people discovering your little arrangement.
"Fun. It was, umm, we had a very nice time."
Namjoon's response is neutral, casual, but there's a hint of something else in his eyes Jimin sees and thinks he recognizes. A sense of regret maybe? No. It feels more uncomfortable than anything.
Then he sees it. There in the corner of Namjoon's eyes, in the deep, hidden parts of his gaze, clouded over with an absurd, unrealistic amount of optimism, is heartbreak. Jimin knows it. He's been there before. It looked the same in his eyes as it does in Namjoon's. Bloodshot red, swollen, and fragile.
"Did something happen?"
"Something?" Namjoon repeats, eyes fixating on Jimin's slowly freezing expression. "How did you know?"
"Just a guess."
Namjoon shrugs, accepting Jimin and his incredible detective skills. Although to be honest, it didn't take a genius to figure that one out. Disguising emotion isn't one of Namjoon's greatest strengths.
"I asked her if she was interested in dating me, but…"
"She said she's seeing someone already."
Jimin crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe. If Namjoon wasn't so caught up in his own emotional rollercoaster right now, he might notice how ridiculously obvious Jimin is being.
"Really? Do you know if it's serious?"
"She said he's just a friend, but I don't know."
"You don't know what?"
"She seemed kinda…bummed out," Namjoon reports, gazing off to the side as if he's reliving the moment in his mind, what you sounded like, looked like. "I think she was upset about seeing them, or maybe upset that she couldn't be with me because of them."
Jimin swallows hard. "She was sad?"
"Sorta? Anyway, she still rejected me, but I wouldn't be surprised if she ends things with that other guy too."
Jimin knows this is all speculation, but he can't help the panic settling in his chest. Do you regret sleeping with him? Do you want to end things? According to the guideline he insisted be included, you have the right to end things whenever you want without giving a reason. At the time, Jimin wrote that to be a safety net for himself--and you--but he never imagined you might take advantage of it in order to date his roommate.
Namjoon shrugs, rubbing his eyes sleepily. As much as he fakes being okay with it, your rejection hit him hard and he lost some sleep over it. He lost sleep over you. Jimin wants to take the blame for that. But he's also concerned about the sleep he's gonna lose over all this.
"Maybe. I don't know what's going through that pretty head of hers, but whatever it is, it's making her really upset."
"I'll check in on her later and see if she's okay."
"Please do that," Namjoon urges, "and let me know how she's doing. It feels kinda weird for me to ask her myself. Just because she doesn't wanna date me doesn't mean I automatically don't care about her."
"Yeah, no problem. Catch you later, Namjoon."
Heading inside, Jimin stands in front of his bedroom mirror, work suit on and name badge around his neck. In the simplest of terms, Jimin feels like crap. In a more detailed description, Jimin feels like crap for wanting you all to himself when you're wanting a way out.
You probably somehow found out he's falling in love with you and freaked out. Yes, he's admitted it to himself, he's falling for you. How can he not?
You're his best friend. Supposed to be his best friend.
The week passes in agony. Despite your promise that you would talk or video chat while on your trip, Jimin hasn't heard from you outside the occasional text to affirm you're not dead. There's a constant looming presence of physical distance between you two. It makes his heart ache and his dick sore. Jimin knew he wasn't made for long distance.
Work has gone back to being overly stressful. He's in the process of saving a critical document when he knocks his coffee all over his laptop and it seeps between the keys, trickling into the cracks and causing the screen to freeze.
If that wasn't enough, his coffee order was made wrong to begin with. And those things were just today, not to mention the travesties from earlier this week.
Not that he hasn't stayed past close every night this week to clean up after himself or someone else, but today he's especially drained after a 13 hour work day and really doesn't want to spend another second in his stupid cubical.
As soon as he has the chance, he turns off all the lights (because he's the last one there...again) and locks the front door with the key he was granted along with his recent promotion.
On his way home, he tries not to think about work or how stiff his legs are. He's gotten into the habit of, whenever he feels like this, he usually messages you and asks if you're down to let him come over. He still remembers the first time you offered to cook for him if he bought some groceries on the way.
Sex and food. That was a fucking great night.
Now, when he thinks about you he gets anxious, probably unnecessarily, but how is he supposed to know?
Last he heard from Namjoon, you're upset to at least a certain degree with whoever you're seeing. Jimin knows it's not because the sex is bad. Just thinking about it makes him sigh out loud and he knows you enjoy it too.
He it because he slept over, breaking a significant number of guidelines in the process. You've always been strict when it comes to the guidelines, which is why he was surprised when you suggested he stay over in the first place. But he was so happy when you said it, he didn't stop to think that maybe something was wrong. He got to spend the whole night holding you; a literal dream come true. If he's honest with himself, he really wants that.
He slumps up to his front door, somewhat discouraged and very tired from a heavy work week. He tries not to think about the pile of work he left on his desk for tomorrow because he might actually cry.
"Hey, Jimin!" Taehyung jumps when his roommate opens the door and steps inside. "Look who's here!"
"Welcome back," your voice sings across the floor and floods his ears.
Jimin freezes and stares. You're here, standing in the living room with your arms crossed and hip popped out to the side. The boys are gathered around you, all smiles and jokes. You smile at him, fuck, you're smiling at him.
Don't run. Don't run. Don't run and kiss her.
"Hey, ___, you're here," he tries to sound casual, slipping off his shoes and entering the main living space where you are. "I thought you didn't get back until tomorrow night?"
You shrug and reach out to accept his hug. "It ended and I managed to catch an early flight home."
With a surprised but happy chuckle, Jimin moves in quickly to embrace you, scooping you into his arms and instinctively burying himself in your neck, his heart racing at the limited contact. He breathes in your familiar scent and feels his lungs tighten when your fists grip the excess material of his work shirt.
The tapping on your shoulder is what breaks the hug, thankfully before anyone starts noticing how abnormally long Jimin was prepared to hold you.
Jungkook is more than excited to have everyone together and to see you after so long. It has been a considerable number of weeks since the two of you have crossed paths. "Noona, I want to show you something." He takes your hand and drags you across the carpet.
Jimin is requested in the kitchen where Seokjin, Hoseok, and Yoongi have been preparing a home cooked meal (apparently of your choice) to celebrate you coming home early and the success of your presentation. You've worked hard and it finally all paid off. It's not anything major, but the boys seem to be happy you've decided to spend time in their humble dorm.
Jimin is given the task of peeling the potatoes. He does so diligently until he sees Namjoon with a set of free hands and calls him over.
"I wanna show ___ something real quick, could you do these last few?"
"Sure." Of course, Namjoon and his golden heart agree to help.
You catch his gaze as he makes his way to you, the record collection Jungkook originally dragged you over to see is all but sprawled across the floor, artists and art from nearly every decade aren't enough to recapture your attention once Jimin has it.
"___, I found that thing you wanted. It's in my room if you still need it."
"Oh yeah, I do, thanks. Be right back, Kookie." Somehow inconspicuously you manage to stand and lead the way to Jimin's bedroom and none of the boys appear concerned. But from around the corner, a pair of eyes in the kitchen follow the back of your heads as you disappear together.
Once inside his room, Jimin sighs and clicks the lock on the door. You whip around, weak knees and heavy breaths as if you've been holding them in for much too long.
You weren't planning on having this conversation so soon after returning, but there's no point in putting it off.
"Jimin, there's something I have to talk to you about--"
But he's already kissing you. Already pulling you into his body, pressing his lips to your lips and pulling them with his teeth in a desperate attempt to claim them. He loves these lips. Loves kissing them, biting them, sucking them, whispering sweet nothings against them. As soon as he can do all those things again, then he'll admit he's addicted.
Wait, you're supposed to end things…okay maybe just one more time. Just one more, you justify.
He melts into the kiss and immediately feels the stress leave his body as he kisses you, and when your fingers trace the lines of his abdomen to find his cock he shivers, a hushed "fuck, babygirl" slipping into the kiss.
He roughly shoves you against the wall, entirely uncaring about the books knocked over or the thud sounding about the house. Pushing your annoyingly cute skirt and panties to the side, he coats his fingers in your slick before sliding them inside you, prepping you to take his cock like a good little slut.
"So wet...already?"
"Been wet since you walked in, idiot."
You continue to stroke him, slowly, patiently, sinfully, now slipping your hand inside his slacks to feel him hot and heavy in your palm. If this was any other time, he would be totally okay if you continued this fun, little game until he came in your hand and you came all over his thick fingers.
But not now. Not when he's literally dying to feel you underneath him again, sighing and pulling his hair, shaking and whispering his name, writhing and rocking your hips.
"Ready?" he's nice enough to ask, his fingers scissoring inside you and creating a pleasurable burn through your core.
You nod, hair falling from your messy bun and into your flushed face.
Pushing his slacks to his knees, you wrap both legs around his waist and help guide his cock inside. He slides in too easily, bottoming out in seconds and waiting no longer than the time it takes for you to lean forward and kiss him again before he's rocking his hips. Lifting you up and dropping down again, he begins fucking you against the wall with deep, sharp, desperate, lust-driven thrusts that taunt your limits, tempting your ending to cum sooner than later.
After even a few minutes, you can feel the pit of your stomach beginning to turn, a knot forming in the same spot the tip of Jimin's dick hits you every time he snaps his hips into you, a high pitched slapping sound making the room feel like a porn set.
"I'm already close, fuck don't stop--"
You don't have to tell Jimin twice. He's memorized the way your body convulses, the light trembles in your bones when you near the edge. He's taken more than his share of highs from you at the last minute to know what he's doing. He wouldn't be opposed to edging you again tonight if it weren't for the fact that he hasn't touched you or felt your touch in almost five days.
Jimin groans, sloppy kisses tracing from your lips across your jaw and down your neck. He wouldn't dream of stopping now. Not after last week. Not after you left him denied and blue balled in a dorm with six other guys and practically no privacy to day dream about you as he wishes. Things have gotten to the point where, usually, just the thought of you can make him cum, but he hasn't been able to get anything going with himself since you left. When he walked through that door and saw you standing there, it felt like lightning struck his bones and all the air in his lungs was stolen. In that moment, he felt something clearer shredding to pieces his stupid excuse for calling your relationship friends with benefits.
"Tell me if it hurts."
It's things like this that make you think he cares more about you than he probably does. There's no denying Jimin is your friend. A friend that has sex with you. But that's all he is and, according to those stupid guidelines, that's all he's obligated to be.
"Right there, harder...harder."
Jimin chuckles, the lighthearted sound suddenly turning dirty when your walls tighten and begin milking his cock for all it's worth. "Shit, babygirl. Feels like your pussy missed me."
"I think your dick had a harder time," you reply smugly, tongue in cheek.
Your thighs burn like lava but it's nothing compared to the knot in the pit of your stomach. With your back thrown against the wall and Jimin's cock filling you to absolute perfection, it's only a matter of time before your high. His mouth attaches to your shoulder now, biting down to hang on for dear life while your nails dig into the bare skin of his back. You can also tell Jimin is nearing his end as his thrusts get sloppy and savage. He just wants to cum and feel you cum around him. Fuck, he just wants you. He wants all of you.
"No marks."
"Does it even matter," he whispers frustrated, lifting his head to look into your eyes, "if your moans are gonna give us away anyway. I think everyone can hear how good I fuck you. Is that what you want? For everyone to know how fucking greedy you are for my cock? You missed it that much?"
"You need to be faster," you remark, arching your back and clenching harder around his leaking dick, pulling a strangled moan from his throat. "We don't have much time."
You're lifted off the wall, still sitting on his cock like a good girl, and deposited on his mattress, blankets and pillows bouncing when he lands on top of you. He hooks his arm underneath your thigh and pushes it to your chest, the new angle edging you closer to your orgasm as he starts moving again, slow and deliberate and deep.
"Well, if you would just--"
Pulling him to your lips, you shut him up with a kiss, tracing your tongue across the roof of his mouth and tugging his lip between your teeth. "You know how much I love it when you talk back during sex," you tease, wiggling your hips in an attempt to make him go faster, "but it's been a really long week and if I don't cum I may cry."
Squeezing his grip around your leg and picking up the pace now, Jimin somehow keeps himself from kissing all over your face. "Don't worry. I got you, baby," he promises. "I missed you."
"You mean your dick missed me."
"No," Jimin corrects you with a kiss to your cheekbone and a strong thrust of his hips, "I mean, I really missed you. While you were gone, I was such a fucking mess. You're never allowed to leave like that again. Promise you'll stay with me...okay?"
Instead of answering, you cup his jaw and lead him to kiss you again, your high seconds away from ripping through you. Jimin feels it too, desperately chasing his orgasm so he can cum with you, just like your first time together. Your fingers run through his hair, brushing strands from his face so you can watch him closely, so you can look into each other's eyes when you cum. If this is going to be the last time you have him like this, you want to remember the magic that surges through you in this moment.
"___," he gasps your name, p