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ugh-yoongi · 5 months

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a word from our sponsors | knj

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s cute.”

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

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

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

“Sick name.”

“Number three, Toddler.”

“Toddler?”

“Number two, Flat.”

“Just Flat? Understandable.”

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

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

“Tabby,” Jungkook chimes in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And second of all?”

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

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

“Subbed or dubbed, though?”

“Are you trying to get me canceled?”

“Absolutely.”

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

“Talking about cats is a waste of time?”

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

“Like what?”

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

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

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

“—one should we start with?”

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

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

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who is Taryn Manning?”

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

“The Britney Spears movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Weird, okay. Continue.”

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

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

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

“What? Namjoon, what in the fuck—”

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

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

“No it’s not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that?”

“Your sun, moon, and rising signs.”

“How do I find that out?”

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

Namjoon rattles off a time.

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

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

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

“Haaa, that’s not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To your left, Jungkook scoffs.

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

“No,” you interject.

“Can I finish?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You groan. “Oh my god.”

Ep: #183 - Namjoon is a Virgin

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

You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.

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

It’s just—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You going out of town again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not lounging,” Jungkook argues.

“You’re manspreading all over the leather!”

“This is how I sit!”

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

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

“What?”

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

Namjoon blinks. “Watch… watch a movie?”

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

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

“Uh-huh. Anyway—”

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

“Oh! Yeah, of course—”

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

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

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

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

“What is this?”

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

“I can see that, but… why?”

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

“Jungkook, this is fanfiction about me.”

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

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

“Oh my god?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

About us.

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

“I—what?”

“It’s about us,” Namjoon repeats.

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

“Can you not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just a story.

Fiction.

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

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

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

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

What will they know of Namjoon, though?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a completely normal question.

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

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

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

You swallow. Hard.

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

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

He moves it an inch to the left.

—

Things are tense, to say the least.

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

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

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

Showtime.

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

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

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

“—Jungkook had. Right, Piper?”

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure? We can—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

It sounds like a challenge.

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

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

“Gummy bear?”

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

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

He continues:

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

You’ve completely forgotten how to breathe.

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

It works. “No,” he scowls.

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

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

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

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

Then he reads—

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

—and everything goes right out the fucking window.

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

“That is why we’re here.”

“Last chance to back out.”

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

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

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

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

“This is so embarrassing,” he whines.

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

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

“See? Not as easy as it looks.”

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

“Y-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is very, very bad.

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

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

“Mhm. Yep. Yes, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Namjoon gags. “I asked you what—”

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

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

You do not get through recording unscathed.

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

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

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

The two of you had sex.

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

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

(Unsurprisingly, that friendship had not lasted.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve never been nervous to see Namjoon before.

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

Today, it feels more like thirty-five seconds.

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

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

Except it isn’t.

Because Namjoon looks… different.

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

Today, he wears none of those things.

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t get any better.

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

Thirty-five minutes back home.

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

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

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

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

That’ll cure you.

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

Needless to say, nothing cures you.

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

Except—you’re not.

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

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Dunno. Not here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are fucked beyond belief.

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

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

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

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

“I forgot them.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Joon—”

“Namjoon, and my co-host here is—”

“Joon, that’s not—”

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

“That’s not the name of our podcast.”

“Huh?”

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

“Is it? Since when?”

“Since forever?”

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

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

Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.

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

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

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

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

“Not with you, preferably.”

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

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

No fucking way.

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

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

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

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

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

“Podcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.”

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

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

“How weird?”

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

He shrugs. “I’m not denying it.”

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

“About you and Namjoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god—”

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

“Oh my god—”

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

“Oh my god?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Min Yoongi is a bastard.

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

You want to fuck Namjoon.

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

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

And then someone knocks on your door.

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

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

“Uh, hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because you’re the problem.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s no wonder you mishear him.

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

Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinks. “Jesus Christ.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Um—”

“Holy shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a beat of silence, and then—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was that okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck are you wearing—”

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

It’s seamless.

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

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

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

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

“Did you? How’d it go?”

“Perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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marxy-06 · 10 months

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Favorites Rec List 3

More of my favs -> Thanks to all these incredible writers for making my day a little better :))

Kim Namjoon

Stretch you out (@chateautae)

A little bit in love with you (@joonbo)

Mr. masseuse (@lavenjoon)

"Let me take care of you" (@mintelepathy)

Fantasies (@sweetwritertanya)

Kim Seokjin

24/7 Marriage counselor (@jimlingss)

A better grip (@jinkookspencil)

A helping hand (@jjungkookislife)

You again (@gashinabts)

Soarin' (@aquagustd)

Seokjin's ho ho ho (@yoongsisbae)

Jealous (@youtifulhobi)

Sacrifices (@justcallmenikki7)

Influence (@aquagustd)

Min Yoongi

Back burner (@yoonpobs)

Escapism (@yoonlattesworld)

Finding home (@helenazbmrskai)

Strawberry icecream (@euphoricfilter)

When I needed you (@dreamescapeswriting)

The cockpile: love birds (@httpjeon)

Crescendo (@ugh-yoongi)

Apricity (@delightfulserendipity)

Jung Hoseok

All it takes (@yoongiofmine)

Nibbling it (@jjksblackgf)

The promises we keep (@vyduan)

Your body is an artwork (@borathae)

Maybe the first, but not the last time (@euphoricfilter)

Park Jimin

Oh so reluctant (@back2bluesidex)

Pretty like you (@axigailxo)

Serendipity (@angellesword)

Blowing dandelions (@httpjeon)

All I need (@joonberriess)

Apricot (@vminity21)

Triads and tribulations (@rendaze)

Star light, star bright (@readyplayerhobi)

High school sweethearts (@choiwrites)

Taste of little (@maliby)

Cherry king (@jiminrings)

Turning to stone (@jjungkookislife)

He makes you insecure (@kookiesbuckethat)

Kim Taehyung

The art of touch (@chateautae)

Nude (@btssmutgalore)

Triads and tribulations (@rendaze)

Match made in heaven (@beenbaanbuun)

"I'll take care of you" (@guqwrvte)

Library kisses (@kwanslvr)

Jeon Jungkook

Way Back Home (@solemnreads)

Stretch you out (@chateautae)

Seven Days (@bonny-kookoo)

Jock!jungkook (@joonberriess)

Tracing your tattoos (@btsugarush)

Shades of red (@thatlongspringnight)

Pu$$y fairy (@angelguk)

Idealizations concerning real life relations (@venusiangguk)

Little blue pill (@dreamescapeswriting)

Brown eyed baby (@jeonstudios)

Superstar (@jinkookspencil)

Spicy n' sweet (@thvhoe)

The ability to fathom (@hanniwrites)

Bad omega, sweet omega (@helenazbmrskai)

"I couldn't live without you" (@jungk0oksthighs)

In my eyes (@axigailxo)

"Besties for the resties?" (@jessikahathaway)

You're leaving me (@delukoo)

Love; weakness (@akinnie75)

Bloodline (@jjkeverlast)

Greek god (@bonny-kookoo)

Size kink (@lavenjoon)

Ex on the beach (@beahae)

Off-league (@hansolmates)

Accidental roommates (@jjkeverlast)

Good girl (@bonny-kookoo)

Crazy (@kookiecrumb)

Curious boy (@jinkookspencil)

Confident (@h0neypjm)

Still perfect (@cupoftaae)

OT7

Trouvaille (@spookyserenades)

A comforting hand (@purpleyoonn)

Abundance (@angelicyoongie)

Appreciation (@vminizzle)

Reaction: faking orgasms (@dreamescapeswriting)

Mean kitty, soft kitty (@purpleyoonn)

Best of us (@bts-trash-blog)

You belong (@imnotlauriane)

(If you have any recs pls share, especially for Hobi, Jin, & Rm :))

#writing #bts namjoon #bts v #bts jin #bts suga #bts x reader #bts smut #bangtan #namjoon #jimin #taehyung #run bts #bts jung hoseok #bts jung jungkook #bts jungguk #bts jungkook #bts recs #fanfic #fanfic rec

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gimmethatagustd · 4 months

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gang shit | knj

Your daughter's classmate has a really hot dad. Apparently, you're his arch-nemesis.

○ Pairing: Dilf!Namjoon x Single Parent!Reader

○ Rating: Sfw

○ Genre: Kidfic, strangers/romantic interest, an attempt at humor

○ 1 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Single Parent)

○ Word Count: 1204

○ Warnings: Shockingly none!! aside from my terrible sense of humor, jokes about Crime!!, and also Namjoon's dimples

○ Notes: Inspired by this tweet. I hope you enjoy the first drabble of my 100 Drabble Challenge I'm doing with @sailoryooons - Please check out Hali's drabbles throughout 2024, too! Happy New Year, besties! ✨

○ Post Date: January 1, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? GOAT - Number_i

“I don’t make the rules to this gang shit. I just play my role.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you cock your head to the side in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Namjoon adjusts his black baseball cap. His bicep bulges out of his short sleeve when he lifts his arm.

You’re too old to be thirsting for a man like this. In all honesty, you’ve been acting childish all day – literally. It’s the last day of school before summer break, and your daughter’s preschool teacher invited parents to an end-of-the-year celebration. Having the privilege of working a hybrid schedule means it’s relatively easy for you to swing by the school with primary-colored cupcakes in hand. They’re the disgusting ones kids love that’ll stain their fingers and mouths bright blue. Oh, to be a four-year-old. So easy to please.

Unlike little Yuna’s father, who has a stick shoved up his ass, and for what?

“What are you even talking about?” you ask with your arms crossed against your chest.

You’d said literally five words to the guy, intending to start a pleasant conversation while the kids ran around the playground and the other parents mingled at the picnic tables outside.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Brooklyn’s parent.”

Apparently, that was offensive.

Namjoon’s sharp eyes drag up and down your body, and you try not to let his heavy gaze affect you – and fail when you feel your stomach dip.

“Brooklyn said Yuna dresses weird,” Namjoon finally says with a pout that shouldn’t look so cute on a grown-ass man.

“Did she?”

“Are you calling Yuna a liar?”

“No!” This man is so volatile. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. We’ve been practicing using kind words, but, well, you know how kids are…”

Namjoon doesn’t look convinced.

You feel antsy under his gaze, unsure what to say or do. Are you supposed to apologize? Maybe that’s the mature thing to do. You’re still new to this whole “I’m suddenly responsible for an entire human being even though I barely even know how to take care of myself” thing. It’s a little bit unbelievable, actually!

“I’m sorry for Brooklyn’s judgmental behavior. What kind of weird-, what kind of clothes-” you stumble through what you already know is a shit apology, “Which one is Yuna?”

“That’s her.” Namjoon nods in Yuna’s direction.

You look across the playground to the swing set, where a little girl is lying on the swing on her stomach and spinning around with her arms and legs hanging limp. She’s wearing her hair in asymmetrical pigtails, one higher on her head than the other. Her sneakers are mismatched, as are her colorful knee-high socks. Her pants are polka-dotted, her shirt striped, and she’s got a bright purple cape tied around her neck.

“She’s adorable,” you say softly.

“She’s weird as shit.”

Your mouth hangs open when Namjoon shrugs.

“What? She’s my kid; I’m allowed to say that.”

“Fair enough,” you concede with a smile, “So, we got beef now?”

“Yup.”

Namjoon crosses his arms against his chest to match your stance. You tell yourself it’s very inappropriate to be eyeing your new enemy’s boobs when you’re in the middle of a showdown.

“I’m not gonna lie, I don’t think I’m down for going to war for Brooklyn. Usually, I just like to blame her bad behavior on her dad,” you say with a barking laugh. You cover your mouth with your hand when you snort. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.”

“You’re good,” Namjoon finally cracks a smile, and, wow, it’s breathtaking. His eyes crinkle at the corners, his teeth are big and bright, and he has dimples… “Yuna’s mother doesn’t let her dress how she likes, so when I have her, I let her do what she wants. Self-expression is important, y’know?”

You nod because he’s right. Kids should be kids.

“Plus, I like being the fun parent.”

“Right! Who wants the parent with all the stupid rules?” You perk up, taking a step closer because now you’re partners in crime rather than enemies. Maybe. You’ll work on it. He’s too cute not to get up to some parental crime with—gang members, not rivals.

“Not cool parents like us,” Namjoon lightly elbows you.

“Yeah, they can’t ride with our gang.”

Namjoon makes a face the moment the words come out of your mouth. He bites both lips, rolling them in and hollowing his cheeks, eyebrows raised.

“What? What!” you gasp, knowing when you’re being made fun of, even if it’s in silence.

“Don’t ever say anything like that ever again.”

With a huff, you give him a tiny punch to the arm and tell yourself that it isn’t because you want to feel how tight his muscles are.

“You’re the one who–”

“HEY! NO HITTING!”

Groaning, you throw your head back as a tiny blur of pink collides with your body. Brooklyn tugs on the hem of your shirt, repeatedly chanting, “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” until you crouch to meet her at her level. Taking her little hands in yours, you hold them to your lips to give her knuckles a quick peck.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that to Mr. Kim,” you admit, “I should apologize, shouldn’t I?”

Brooklyn nods, and the bulbous beaded hair ties at the end of her pigtail braids swing like a deadly game of tetherball.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kim,” you say as you look up at Namjoon. He taps his finger against his chin in mock thought, and you can’t help but think that you’ll actually punch him if he fucks up this teaching moment by pretending not to accept your apology.

“I forgive you,” he says with another grin that makes you feel like a silly teenager.

“Y’know, Brooklyn, Mr. Kim told me something about you and Yuna…” Brooklyn immediately ducks her chin to her chest. No one has ever looked guiltier. “It’s not very nice to talk about how people look, love. I think you should apologize to Yuna, don’t you agree?”

It takes very little convincing for Brooklyn to run off toward the swings. She flops on her stomach in the swing beside Yuna, and then, after a bit of talking, both girls spin around.

“If Brooklyn throws up from doing that, it’s your fault,” you mutter to Namjoon.

“Real aggressive coming from someone who just physically attacked me.”

“Okay, Mr. Gang Shit,” you quip back, catching Namjoon’s widening grin out of the corner of your eye.

“Listen,” Namjoon touches your elbow, his fingers lingering just long enough for you to give him your attention. Heat spreads along your forearm and makes your fingers tingle. “I don’t really accept either of your apologies. You might need to try a little harder to get me to forgive you.”

“Oh.” You feel your stomach twist.

“Might want to start with getting dinner with me, and then we can see where it goes?”

Oh.

“I mean, if you think it wouldn’t hurt my street cred being seen with the likes of you, then, yeah.”

Namjoon grabs his baseball cap bill and pulls it down until his hat covers his face. “Don’t make me rescind this offer because I’ll do it.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see how it goes.”

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

#bts x reader #namjoon x reader #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #gang shit #100 drabble challenge

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jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 1 month

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Our Little Love part seven - OT7 Mafia/Yandere au

What’s that saying? One step forward two steps back? 👀 6K words containing: manipulation, toxic yandere men, non-consented acts of affection, lies, possessive behaviour, jealousy, allusion to crime and kidnapping.

“Little love,” Jin calls for you absentmindedly, frowning when you don’t look up from your book to answer him. It’s one you had read a million times before, maybe you didn’t hear him.

“Little love?” He tries again, looking confused as you let out a disgruntled sigh of annoyance.

He can see your jaw clench, something had pissed you off. Your foot became restless as you sat in the arm chair, it was only when Jimin cleared his throat obviously he remembered the terms and conditions you had enforced.

This time he lets out a big sigh, one of tested patience. He mumbles an apology before turning away, a bitter feeling creeping up his chest. Fuck, he resented the fact he couldn’t call you that anymore, it was like asking him not to breathe. Fuck fuck fuck, they needed to earn your forgiveness soon or this might actually kill them. Not that they ever underestimated you, but you really did know which weapons to pull to hurt them the most, and fuck did he have to admit they deserved it. Didn’t mean he had to like any of it.

Jimin follows him out, a quick glance back at you to see if you were paying any concern but of course not. Since the day you announced the break you’d been keeping your distance, Jimin had complained about it childishly with tantrum tears in his eyes but you had patiently explained you needed the space to clear your head.

Jimin scoffs at the memory, feeling sour about it still. The pout he wears gives away his thoughts when they both find Yoongi in the kitchen.

“Little love giving you a hard time?” he says almost amused.

It’s Jin’s turn to scoff dramatically, ears burning so red, Yoongi swears there’s steam.

“We can’t call her that anymore,” he complains, sulking.

Yoongi smiles a little, not because he truly found his hyung’s pain entertaining, but because he understood the pain.

“It’s a difficult situation,” Yoongi agrees, “but the alternative would have been so much worse.”

Jimin and Jin stare silently at him, their gazes aggressive as if they wanted to hit the male but they didn’t because he was right. The worst alternative wasn’t expecting you to leave, they all knew they would never let that happen, but if you had become a ghost of yourself, if they had broken you so badly there was nothing left to rebuild, then what would be left of you?

“When did you become so considerate?” Jimin scoffs, rolling his eyes. He didn’t like any of it, he didn’t care if you were right and they were wrong, you had taken away their most prized and valuable possession, you. He couldn’t help the internal tantrums as if someone had taken away his favourite toy. Call him childish, call him whatever the hell you wanted, he hated this situation, and he couldn’t hide it.

They apologised, and apologised, and apologised, and you still gave them the cruellest punishment you could think of.

“You’re still thinking with anger,” Yoongi acknowledges, knowing when Jimin cooled down from this he would probably be the one with the most regret and remorse, what he didn’t know is Jimin was clinging to his resentment with all his might, because once that gave way he would have so much to answer for.

—

Men would pay money to see Jung Hoseok hesitate, but that was exactly what he was doing now. Another book in your hand (you were reading a bit too much lately, he didn’t like it, it was as if you knew you couldn’t leave physically so you were doing so mentally), and he was stalling himself with interrupting you.

Your rejection cut holes into him, and that’s what he was afraid of when approaching you today. When he was younger he used to be afraid of everything, but after indulging in the horrors of survival and the syndicate, nothing terrified him any more, or so he thought before his heart belonged to you.

“Litt-” he catches himself before he says it too loud, clearing his throat quietly hoping you didn’t hear him. “Y/n?”

He sounds more confident, his more serious persona going up as if that would protect him here. He knew he needed it, any sane person after experiencing his pleasure and pain games would run at the sight of him, and a part of him was getting ready to catch you if you did.

You look at him and it has him crumbling. Something in his chest physically hurts him so bad he thinks he needs to go see a specialist, one glance from you and he’s ready to beg on his knees again for your forgiveness. The distance between you, although you were here in front of him, killed him. It felt eerily similar to what it did when you left, and it confused his brain and body so much.

He had to remind himself every day, you were still here, you still loved them, this was just temporary.

“I-I wasjus- I was just heading to the b-basment,” forget money, men would lay down their lives to see Jung Hoseok stutter and stumble over his words.

You frown in question when he doesn’t continue, but stares at you expectantly, until he realises he hadn’t explained what he wanted.

“For a workout!” He rectifies himself quickly before taking a breath to calm himself, “I wondered if you wanted to join me?”

He mentally pats himself on the back quickly for sounding more put together, but then his nerves start to shake again when you don’t respond immediately. You contemplate it, for too long in his eyes, stretching out the pause until you have the man sweating. Who needs a work out, just piss your girlfriend off and try to spend time with her while she's still mad.

“Yeah, okay,” you nod, finally putting down your book (he should get Jimin to burn them all). “I’ll go get changed.”

The relief and joy that floods Hobi almost makes him pass out, a genuine smile he hasn’t felt on his own face for days bursts through. This was a step in the right direction, you didn’t hate him or you would’ve shut him down. With the amount of hope in his system, he was getting giddy.

—

You wanted some time alone this evening, without them lingering around you, with poor attempts of covering their intentions with busying themselves. As if you couldn’t see Jimin’s imploring stare as he walked past you from the corner of your eyes. Or the way Jin would walk towards you, hesitate and then walk away.

You didn’t say they couldn’t talk to you, you were just on a break. Part of you knows you should seek them out and start civil conversation but that part also knew once you opened the door they would come barging through. An inch would turn into a mile and you would be back where you started.

So now you were busying yourself with the world’s worst chore, just to escape and breathe for a second, laundry. You were sorting through the load at a snail’s pace, knowing when you were done you’d have to endure them again. You’re so embedded in your own thoughts you don’t feel another presence join you.

Arms wrap around you, making you still. His figure almost engulfs you from behind, his nose already finding purchase on your neck as he buries himself against you. You try not to sigh, you were sick of hearing the sound yourself but it was always one of patience.

You understood how hard it was for them to accept your decision for a ‘break’, but all you wanted was some respect for it. And this broke your no touching rule.

“Tae let go,” you say without an ounce of emotion, continuing sorting out the laundry in front of you.

His only reaction to your words is the opposite of course, holding you tighter against him making your heart skip too many beats to count. Your skin sizzled with something akin to longing, a fire he only seemed to ignite when his breath hit your neck.

You don’t give in. You throw the item of clothing in your hand down, both hands on the edge of the basket as you still, standing statue as he tries his hardest to work through your defences. You don’t respond when he nuzzles his nose against where he’s buried, or to the rumble of his chest when he breathes you in deeply. His eyes are closed, you know they are, he’s relishing the moment all he can before you take it away.

He doesn’t feel you respond the way he wants you to, he wants you to melt against him and the urge is so strong but somehow you resist. He whines, the sound so soft near your ears you almost miss it. He tries holding you tighter still, his thumb stroking soft circles on your skin, trying to tempt you to break your resolve. Gentle, almost whisper like kisses are placed on your shoulder as he finally breaks away.

“Are you done?” You say almost coldly as he steps back, picking back up another item of clothing.

You hear him sniff but you don’t let it move you.

“Heaven, please,” he begs, a fist in your top clutching onto you.

That’s when you turn to face him. If he expects to see any softness in your gaze he’s sorely mistaken, it’s not a glare you’re giving him but it’s close enough that it burns. You don’t even flinch when you see tears in his eyes.

“I asked you not to touch me,” you state quietly but your words are firm. “Or that if you did, you asked first.”

He looks down, partly in shame, partly in grief. You can’t stand to see the sight, it makes your heart ache, so you walk away.

—

“Y/n?” Jungkook asks for your attention, biting his lips in worry. “Can I ask you about the book you’re reading?”

The others in the room feel an overwhelming sense of envy when you smile at the maknae. Jimin’s jaw goes slack as you scoot over to let Jungkook sit beside you. Envy was a dangerous thing, how he wanted to pluck the youngest of them out of the seat and take his place, but he hadn’t calmed his emotions down enough yet to approach you properly, and he knew if he did he’d ruin whatever rebuilding the others had done. No, he had to be patient with himself and withdraw, even if that meant physically. He was playing cards with Yoongi and Seokjin, but he places his cards down and leaves.

Jin’s pout overtakes his face when he turns away from the sight of Jungkook grinning while you talk animatedly, putting down a card without thinking and letting Yoongi take the win this round. Yoongi didn’t even notice, his gaze goes soft at the way you laugh at a teasing comment Jungkook made, a sound he hasn’t heard in what felt like forever. The sound even makes the corners of Jin’s pout pull up.

The youngest of the group honestly thought he was in paradise, he didn’t even care about the book he just wanted to hear you talk without reservation. His focus was on the way your eyes lit up, the genuine smile on your face, how does he try to make this moment last forever? He pays attention to every word you utter, asking the right question to keep you going, even making a joke here and there and feeling so pleased with himself when you laugh.

How did the relationship regress back so far that he felt like this was the start of it, like he was still pursuing you to give him a chance, like he had to work up the courage to ask you out all over again. The answer of course was in their mistakes, the thought dampens his mood but he pushes it away. He didn’t know when he would get another moment like this, he had to soak it all in and cherish it before it was over.

—

Your defences go up when you spot Jimin bringing Taehyung to you, the shorter male holding his hand guiding your bear like boyfriend in front of you. You look at them both expectantly, wondering what the theatrics were for. Taehyung sniffles, his face hanging low, his red hoodie pulled down as far as he can get it to hide himself.

“Taehyung has something he wants to say Heaven- I mean angel- I mean Y/n,” he corrects himself repeatedly with a shake of his head, cheeks burning in slight embarrassment at the blunder, but he wouldn’t apologise for it even it that made him a hypocrite for what he was making Taehyung do.

He pushes his friend gently, encouraging him to speak.

“Tae?” you say gently, remembering how harshly you spoke to him the other day.

Apparently that was all it took for the man to break down into tears in front of you, falling to his knees as he bawled. Your jaw drops in shock at the action, but you’re more surprised at the fact he holds himself back from launching into you for comfort.

You can see how hard it is to do so, he’s hugging himself, but his nails dig into the fabric of his clothes. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze on the floor. You give him a second to compose himself, the sobs turning into little hiccups as he wipes his face with his sleeve.

When he looks at you it's your turn to grip the armrests of the chair with all your might, those glassy eyes beg you for love and it takes everything not to smother him in your embrace. But that would undo all the work you’ve been doing, you had to talk it out first and then maybe if this was resolved you could reward him with physical affection, just a little.

“I-I’m sorry,” he says through a hoarse voice, the sound only breaking your resolve further. “About the other day, I s-should’ve asked first.”

He tries to take a deep breath in but it’s shaky, for some reason what he wants to say next breaks him out into more tears. He covers his face as he cries, Jimin rubbing his back providing him with the comfort you couldn’t give just yet.

“Doyouhateme?”

The muffled question breaks your heart, Jimin can see it on your face and it has him fighting down a smirk. He may have played a hand at manipulating the situation, convincing Taehyung this was the best way to get back into your good books.

“Tae no,” you breathe, eyes watering but you blink back the tears. You didn’t want to show them any weakness anymore. “I don’t hate you.”

You sigh, eyes to the ceiling, as if begging for control over yourself as you try really hard to not give in to the feeling of wanting to crawl into his lap and hold him.

“I just really needed some space that day,” you explain, “and you caught me at a bad time.”

That wipes away Jimin’s elation, all this talk about space and distance, it already felt like you were living on Mars. How much space did you want? In his opinion there had been too much space, that was the problem, or were you forgetting the long agonising months of your absence?

Taehyung nods, thankfully retaining your attention away from Jimin who couldn’t hide his thoughts from his face.

—

You can’t sleep, tossing and turning from your side to your back and then to your side again. Were you fighting a losing battle? Were you being unfair in asking them to change? You remember cases of forgotten wives refusing to leave their no good husbands, the amount of inane times you heard the cries of ‘I can get him to change’... had you become one of those women? Then of course came the others, the women who knew they could not work miracles on their partners and gave up. Some left, some stayed, and you remember watching them all in the years of your career, arrogantly thinking it would never be you, no man would ever trap you like this. There was a joke in there somewhere, one man certainly didn’t, but seven did.

The knock on the door thankfully interrupts your endless circle of pity, a meek Jungkook peeking around as he opens the door. Something about the scene felt familiar but the shoe was on the other foot. He was waiting for permission to come in, you don’t know why the sight made you smile, made you warm.

If anyone was proof that they were trying for you it was Jungkook, Yoongi had kept his distance out of respect for your rules, you know he only did so because he couldn’t help himself if he got too close. Jimin was similar although, you could see he was keeping his distance mentally, angry with you and your conditions. It would pass, you were sure, or at least you hoped.

Jungkook was the only one that accepted everything without complaint, and you knew it wasn’t easy. You were so grateful to him for it, for respecting your boundaries sincerely, for giving you hope that this relationship could be salvaged.

He almost trips over himself when you pull the covers back wordlessly, inviting him in, the stumble of his legs as he races towards you makes you giggle. He climbs in without hesitation, about to reach out for you but he stops himself, eyes looking up at you, wanting to ask you out loud but too afraid to.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him quietly, as if talking loudly would break the peace you felt with him there, that you’d second guess yourself.

Arms you’ve longed for wrap around your waist, pulling you towards him. You hold him back gently, not letting yourself get lost in him the way you wanted. In the darkness, your gazes meet, talking loudly in a way filled the silence.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes out hard, unable to hold it in any longer.

“I’ve missed you too,” you admit.

He bites his lips to refrain from saying anything else, to break the illusion that everything was okay.

“I used to think I understood your darkness,” you murmur, stroking his hair out of his face.

He pulls you closer, burying his head against your chest, the youngest didn’t like how that sentence was going and part of him didn’t want to hear the rest.

“But I don’t think I ever did,” you confess in a whisper, starting to ramble. “I don’t get it Kookie, why me? This obsession, I thought I felt it the same as you, I thought you guys understood me too.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to keep up with your thoughts when you felt the hands of sleep trying to catch you.

“Maybe I was just trying to excuse my own darkness,” you sigh, almost in defeat. “Or maybe I just fed yours too much.”

“You gave us your love,” he mumbles against your skin, eyes closed as he breathes in your scent. “Your acceptance, you didn’t feed our darkness baby, you just didn’t see the extent of it.”

—

The silence is suffocating. Yoongi normally appreciates it but in this situation it was unsettling. They’re all in the living room, some pretending to do their own thing, but no one was paying any attention to anything other than you. Yoongi and Namjoon did so blatantly, Yoongi sitting on the couch away from you but his stare is nowhere else. This didn’t break the rules, you didn’t tell him he couldn’t soak you in with his eyes whenever he wanted.

The others were also very obvious with their glances towards you, Jin was dusting the same spot of the living room over and over. Hoseok flipping through the tv channels with Jungkook sitting beside him, the maknae biting his lips in worry with every peek he took, a habit he hadn’t had since he was a teenager. Taehyung and Jimin uncharacteristically played chess but all the pieces were in the wrong places, arbitrarily moving them just to keep appearances so you didn’t call them out.

And Namjoon… the man was staring daggers into your form. Elbow on his thigh, leaning forward, his chin on his thumb, his finger on his face tapping away on his cheekbone impatiently. He was supposed to be going over the papers in his lap, but they were being scrunched in his other hand. Yoongi thought he looked like a bomb about to explode, and he wasn’t wrong.

“That’s it!” Namjoon almost growls as he slams his file down, standing from his seat while everyone stares in shock at his outburst.

He walks towards you, and you meet his glare but refuse to move from the comfort and safety of the tub chair, you don’t even close your book.

“This ‘break’ is over,” he snarls, gestating with his hands trying to find a conduit for his anger. “Do you understand, little love?”

You look up at him with eyes simmering a fire he only ignited, meeting his glare head on.

“I decide when this break is over,” you say calmly, refusing to fight him at his level.

“No.”

“No?” Your brows scrunch in disbelief and anger, there goes your plan to remain calm. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

You throw your book back into the seat as you rise to meet him eye to eye, although he’s still looking down at you.

“I mean…” he breathes gruffly, grazing his hand with yours at your side. “No.”

“You can’t b-“

Your voice is smothered by his lips, his soft touch turning into an iron grip as he pulls you closer, devouring you like a man starved and in his eyes that’s exactly what he was. You push him away, but he doesn’t allow for any space between you.

Even when you’re banging your fist against his chest, unable to breathe, he doesn’t budge. You’re at his mercy, only when he decides he’s had enough (for now), does he pull away.

You look dishevelled almost, breathing hard, your eyes glistening with tears. The sight shouldn’t arouse him but it does.

You have the audacity to childishly wipe his kiss away with the back of your hand, a tough swipe that does nothing to erase the force he handled you with. He chuckles, the sound makes your ears burn, feeling the warmth of shame colour them in.

The others stare with the jaws wide open, fear settling in that this was taking too many steps in the wrong direction. It takes everything not to call you back when you storm away, it takes everything not to follow.

No one says a word, but they all glare accusingly at their leader except Taehyung, who only looks down in shame.

—

“Where do you think you’re going?” Yoongi asks gruffly, sleep still in his voice.

“Out.” You respond bluntly, avoiding his gaze.

“I asked where,” he pushes when you pull Taehyung’s hoodie over your head. You were drowning in the fabric, and he pretended the sight didn’t make him ache for you. The same way you were trying so hard not to let his sleepy state bring down your defences, no matter how cute he looked in the shorts and grey top.

“What does it look like Yoongi,” your head was spinning with too many thoughts and you needed to clear it. “For a run.”

“I’ll come with you,” he says it like an offer but it’s not, you know it’s not.

“No,” you refuse simply, finally meeting his stare. “Send one of your men to keep an eye on me, it's what you did before anyway.”

He’s quiet, observing you for a moment. You hated it when he did that, it was like he could see inside of you and yet, despite that, you felt like he couldn’t understand anything he saw. You break eye contact first, putting on your trainers while he continues to stare. Why couldn’t you read him the same, how could he still get under your skin with his silence even after all this time?

“I’ll send Jungkook,” he says as you open the door. “He’ll keep his distance.”

He doesn’t take the slam as you leave personally, he knows you just need to vent your frustrations, but because you were so isolated- sorry, because they isolated you, you had no one to vent to, no one who was objective to talk to. Physically stretching your mind would maybe do you some good.

“Did you seriously let her go out unsupervised?” Namjoon seethes as he approaches Yoongi, quick to dial one of their men regardless of what nefarious time of the morning it was. The first call goes to voicemail.

Yoongi sighs, he was on his way back to bed, guess not.

“She deserves our trust,” he replies. “And I was about to send Jungkook.”

“It’s not about trust,” Namjoon bites back, another call unanswered, “it’s about safety, or are you forgetting our enemies hunt our weaknesses.”

“Our enemies know if they touch her they’ve signed their own death certificate, no one would dare cross us now, not with the amount of blood we’ve shed,” Yoongi groans in aggravation. “Not to mention you’ve bought out the police Namjoon.”

“But not every policeman, or Captain, or are you forgetting what we did to him?”

“You gave him a warning, he’ll behave,” Yoongi states, ready to leave the conversation but he can’t help himself with what he says next. After Namjoon’s actions last night, he was feeling a little vengeful, even if he didn’t completely mean his words. “We should’ve left him unharmed, we knew she didn’t want us to hurt him.”

The shock in Namjoon’s eyes flashes for a second before they compose themselves to a stare. He puts his phone back in his pocket, maybe Jungkook was the best one to go, you didn’t seem to punish him as harshly as the others.

The silence between the men turns the air cold, their gazes stoic but speaking volumes. Namjoon wouldn’t stand for mutiny or disloyalty, he especially didn’t stand for anyone questioning his decisions.

“He hurt her,” he explains himself patiently, “he wants to take her away from us.”

Yoongi scoffs, a humourless grin on his face as he stares back in ridicule at their leader.

“We hurt her,” he states, eyes blank of emotion, “where’s our bullet to the knees.”

—

If you were being honest with yourself, you hated running, you hated the way each breath burned as it filled your lungs, how each limb could feel like lead, but the pain was better than the thoughts you were trying to clear.

You remember at the police academy, Suho and Kai used to run circles around you, but somewhere along the way your competitiveness got the better of you, and you trained harder than them both. It used to annoy you to hell that they were physically much stronger than you, but those days were some of the best. The three of you were so close, each other’s confidants when things went sour, the two you’d hang out with when a case went wrong. Now who did you have to confide in?

Maybe it’s your conscious or unconscious thoughts making your legs move in a particular direction, but you don’t realise where you’re headed until you see the sign above the door. The breakfast place… where everything went to shit a third time.

You barely glance inside as you run past but the sight of someone familiar makes you double take. Think of the devil and he appears?

His eyes catch yours when you stop in your tracks, he’s sitting at a table alone and the sight of him brings back that day like a breath after being underwater for so long. An apology is at the tip of your tongue, your eyes start to water, you know you have to keep running, if any of them finds you here with him, he’d be dead. You’re about to turn away when he waves at you, a simple smile that didn’t meet his eyes sent your way as he watches the realisation hit you.

His hand was covered in thick bandages, and your stare doesn’t leave them. There’s no thought in your mind as your legs move you into the building, ignoring the waiter's greeting as you walk towards your old Captain with dread.

He shifts in his seat, letting you see the bandages on his leg, around his knee, the crutches resting on the seat next to him. Your eyes are wide with shock before your gaze turns into one of mournful rage. Tears start forming in your eyes as you shake.

The sense of betrayal that overwhelms you has you reaching a hand for the table, gripping the edge tight to steady yourself.

They lied.

They looked you in the eyes and lied. All of them, including Jungkook. You don’t let yourself sob, not when a fire burns any attachment you felt towards them to dust.

You move your gaze from his injuries to his face, his stare never having left you.

“Arrest them,” your voice is hoarse but without a morsel of regret, anger paving the way forward now, filling the loss you felt deep inside of you.

They must’ve thought you were fucking stupid, they must’ve laughed behind your back, humoring you with their acts of trying to change. Fuck, you were a fool, they played you again and again and you just took it every fucking time. There was never going to be any change, and you refused to be their prisoner any longer.

“I’ll be your witness,” you say it with conviction, although a part of you grieves. “I’ll give you all the evidence you need, just send them away.”

Suho doesn’t say a word, and that makes it all so much worse. You can feel something creeping around you, shadows of them that have latched onto you, crawling all over your skin. You wanted rid of this dark energy, you wanted out.

You don’t break his stare, not for a second, you can tell he’s deep in thought, contemplating your resolve, and if he saw a hint of uncertainty in you he would do no such thing. Why would he risk it? They hurt him, they could hurt him again.

He reaches for his phone, and you take a premature breath of relief.

“Make the call,” he commands, handing the device to you.

—

When Yoongi dragged Jungkook out of bed this morning, the maknae had begrudgingly crawled out of the house. His body ran on autopilot when he left to find you, eyes half open, yawning in the morning air. His hoodie pushes his hair to fall in his face but he’s too tired to drag the fabric back.

It wouldn’t take long to find you, he could run circles around you if he wanted but the thought of maybe spending some time with you alone made his legs pick up the pace, a goofy grin on his face as he thought about it.

Yes you were probably mad about Namjoon’s actions yesterday, not that Jungkook blamed him all that much, it was hard to stay away from you, but he was starting to understand your perspective a little more. Especially after the last time you pulled away, and he couldn’t let that happen again, he wouldn’t survive it another time. He wouldn’t blame you if you gave him the cold shoulder, he just hopes you don’t punish him because of Namjoon, deflecting your anger wherever it did damage.

He’d calm you down, he’s sure of it. He’d tell you that what their big bad boss did was wrong and he was on your side, he’d tell you that he loved you and respected you, and it didn’t matter how long you took to forgive them he was sure the relationship would heal.

He’s so lost in thought he doesn’t realise how far he’s travelled, it’s only when there’s still no sight of you his grin begins to fade. He should’ve caught up to you by now, this was the route you normally take, and you knew better than to go another way.

What if… no. You wouldn’t dare leave again, you wouldn’t. Jungkook breaks into a sprint, running every route he can think of, not stopping for a moment even when his lungs and legs burn. He’s looking round like a mad man, but he can’t find you. What if something happened? What if someone got to you or hurt you? Memories flash in his mind to long, long ago when that was almost the case. What if?

Shit. A hand to his pocket tells him he’s left his phone, he couldn’t contact the others to join him. His best decision was to get back to the house asap. Jin would still have the tracker on your phone, they would find you, it was all going to be fine.

The fear that seized his heart was not fooled by such idealistic thoughts, his eyes had seen the true brutality of the world, sometimes caused by his own hands, and now his mind played a myriad of images of his little love in all the situations of pain he caused others. He always wondered if karma would catch him one day, he never thought it would take you.

—

He slams the door open so hard it struggles to stay on the hinges.

“I CAN’T FIND HER!” He yells into the open space of the home with all the air in his lungs.

It doesn’t take long for the hoard to assemble.

“What do you mean you can’t find her?” Jin yells back, reaching for his phone to track you without prompt.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the way Namjoon glares at Yoongi, the shorter man ignoring him.

“She’s probably taken another route,” he says calmly.

“You better hope that’s all,” Namjoon says through gritted teeth.

“What if someone’s got her?” Jimin panics.

“No,” Hoseok shuts that idea down, “everyone knows there is nowhere in Seoul to hide from us.”

“There’s always one idiot that’s willing to try, or have you forgotten the last time someone tried to take her?” Taehyung says heatedly.

“And we know how that ended,” Hoseok growls back.

The bickering among themselves grows in volume, so loud that they almost miss what Jin says.

“What?” It’s Yoongi that dares to ask him to repeat himself, the drumming in his ears drowning the words. He must’ve misheard…

“She’s at the police station,” there’s no mistaking it this time. Jin looks solemnly at Namjoon while all their heads spiral.

“She’s not gone there of her own will,” Yoongi shakes his head in denial, “they’ve arrested her or something.”

Namjoon says eerily quiet, his breathing hard, his jaw clenched.

“Namjoon we own the police,” Hoseok pushes, “make a fucking call see why she’s there.”

“Fuck making a call! I’m going over there,” Jungkook announces, turning back to the front door, but the sight of a police van pulling up at their mansion makes him stop in his tracks.

“Are they dropping her home,” Jimin asks stupidly, unable to comprehend why else they would be there.

The older four men look at eachother knowingly.

“Should we run?” Jin asks, making Taehyung and Jimin whip their heads to stare at him incredulously.

“Why would we run?” Namjoon breaks his silence, “they’ll take us right to her.”

As if on queue a smoke grenade rolls into the room, blasting off within seconds, covering the air. Namjoon almost laughs, they sent the fucking swat team, how ridiculous when they could’ve settled this like gentlemen.

Bodies swarm in, yelling commands and they all fall to their knees as instructed. On any other day, if you were home, these men wouldn’t make it through the door, but Namjoon was right, they were a one way ticket to finding you.

587 notes · View notes

kooqitas · 1 month

Text

— secret kink ★ with: knj + jjk!

#pairings: friend!jjk X boyfriend!knj X reader

#synopsis: you discover your boyfriend's kink

#tags: pwp, sex, rough sex, threesome, cuckold, cockslut, spanking, spit, vaginal sex, degradation, humiliation, orgasm denial, orgasm play, creampie, overstimulation, dacryphilia, oral sex, multiple orgasm

#notes: ok, i need to be honest, this is the most dirty thing i've ever written, but it doesn't deviate much from what's been written here so far… whatever, i hope you like it guys :)

#wc: 3,1k

🌸 . . english isn’t my first language, so be patient :)

“when you gonna told me that you fucked with jungkook?” namjoon, your boyfriend, entered the room while you were still wrapped in a towel after getting out of the shower.

“excuse me?”

“hoseok told me, when we break up a few weeks ago, you and jungkook fucked”

“hoseok is a gossip boy” you mumbled.

“maybe, but when you gonna tell me?”

“when you gonna told me that you fucked with taehyung?” you asked him.

alright, you and namjoon had a fight last month, it's a bad fight, you broke up for some weeks, you stayed in the apartment but he lived at bts dorm.

but, in those weeks, maybe you two have some... diversion with your friends.

“taehyung and me was a mistake”

“you take jungkook's boyfriend and he took your girlfriend”

“so was it planned?”

“no” snorted. “just happened”

“was good? he ate you well?”

what the fuck was that question? wanting to know whether or not your girlfriend has sex while you were apart is understandable, but what the hell was he asking?

“not better than you”

“anyone fucks you better than me, doll”

you laugh, it's true. you two have a relationship a years ago, of course he knows exactly how and where touch you.

“did he treated you like the whore you are?”

“i don't understand what the point”

“i just wanna know if my girl was fucked good”

“yes, i am! and i know that taehyung too”

silence.

“how many times you cum?”

“really? namjoon, i don't want to fight, i fucked jungkook, you fucked taehyung, it's okay”

“who says that i want to fight?”

you can't understand what the point of this conversation.

“i just wanna know if my baby was treat like the whore he is, if jungkook doing a good job and cum of this pussy”

namjoon laughed, and his laughed sounded like sadism. whos wanna know how your girlfriend was fucked?

unless…

“three years with you, and you never told me that you have cuckold kink”

“im telling u now”

bingo!

the information was a little shocking, right, jungkook and you had always been very close and namjoon never showed a single bit of jealousy, however you always thought it was because of your friendship for years, and the fact that jungkook had a boyfriend.

“so, why don't you call him and ask how he eats me?”

namjoon sit on the sofa, but without any courage to call to your friend.

"what's happening?" you asked when notice the hesitate "are you afraid that your best friend know that you liked that had cum on your girlfriend? are u shammed? ok, i call"

you take the cell and call to jungkook.

“hi, hyung! are u okay?”

“hey, baby!” you said. “namjoon wanna know how good was fucked me that day”

“oh my god! he’s know? hyung, i’m so sorry, we are so drunk and-”

you laughed.

“i wouldn't apologize if i were you, he's all excited imagining you fucking me. and don't forget that he fucked with your boyfriend, if i were you i'd give as many details as possible…”

on the other end of the line Jungkook was wide-eyed, he always thought that if his friend found out about their night there would be a big fight, but no, there he was in connection with namjoon, who was horny knowing that his girlfriend gave your pussy to another.

jungkook even tried, but he couldn't hold back the smirk that tugged at his lips.

he was still fighting with taehyung, and didn't even intend to make up. of course, jungkook was angry with namjoon because he knew he was also to blame for all this.

so if he wanted to be humiliated, well, he would.

“your girlfriend is a dumb whore, she masturbated in my bathroom, when i opened the door, she was moaning with two fingers inside her, i couldn't control it, i needed to eat her”

namjoon imagines the scene, and his cock wake up

"she moaned so loud in my fingers, god, i wasn't need said too much, she just give her cunt for me at the same time"

you laughed naughty, remembering the scene.

you and jungkook spent a good few minutes talking about how taehyung and namjoon's sex had been, and naturally, with a drink, you were so fucking horny, both of you rubbing your own thigh temptingly to relieve the emotion.

you asked to take a shower, but when you turned on the shower the first thing you did was put your fingers in your wet pussy, you couldn't tell if it was missing namjoon or wanting jungkook, you didn't even think about anything, you just wanted to cum.

it didn't take five minutes for jungkook to enter the bathroom, seeing you with your eyes closed moving your fingers quickly.

he took off his clothes, and sneaked in, hugging you from behind and leaving a kiss on his neck. jungkook was quick to pull your hand and insert his fingers, then brushing his member against your ass, and the pleasant moan you gave only confirmed the consent he knew he had. you didn't hold back in saying that that night he owned you, and that you were desperate for him to open you up with his fat cock.

returning to the present moment, namjoon stroked his own dick while listening to his friend's statement.

“she was so hot, hyung. saying that I owned her, cumming on my fingers, saying that i could do whatever i wanted with her. fuck! i think now i understand why you guys have been together for so long, i would also love to eat that pussy every day.”

jungkook masked silence, namjoon was quiet and this worried jungkook.

“that’s okay, jungkook! he didn’t say anything because was busy touching himself”

so he’s keeped going.

“i took her to bed, hyung. she was so wet even after having cum, i stuck my tongue in her and she moaned even louder, she kept screaming my name for anyone who wanted to hear. my face got all wet, and she got irritated when i didn't let her cum” he laughed. “but i made her cum on my dick, she's a cockslut, she asked me to hit her, to choke her, and every time i cursed her, her pussy squeezed my cock. damn, hyung, now i'm so fucking horny!”

jungkook knew that what he would say next could destroy a friendship of years, it turns out that at the moment his head was clouded by lust and he even thought about friendship.

“hyung, leave me fuck your girlfriend again. so you can watch us and draw your own conclusions”

namjoon took his hand out of his shorts, and you tried to read your boyfriend's face, but you didn't understand anything. was Namjoon nervous? did Jungkook cross the line? was he just excited to hear but not see?

in fact, that was a good question, how far would namjoon's kink go?

whatever, all insecurity fell away when Namjoon moved away from the phone.

“you know my address, and your entry is free at the entrance”

namjoon looked at you and tapped her thigh twice, you immediately understood the message and sent it there, receiving a kiss on the neck and a caress on her breasts.

“'ll lend you to him one more time, but you know that's it, don't you? you are my little toy that i use whenever i want”

you nod, and namjoon opens your mouth spitting into it, you swallow, like the good whore you are.

“he's going to cum in you, but this pussy is mine, okay? and after all, maybe you're tired, but you're mine, and you give your pussy to your owner”

------------------------------------

after some minutes, the doorbell rang, and namjoon opened the door, of course, jungkook was there. namjoon kissed him, like a 'welcome' put his tongue on jungkook's mouth and grabbed his ass.

"you can do anything, since her want, of course" this is the only thing that namjoon said.

so, this is you now.

sitting on the bed, with your legs opened, just underwear, pinching your own nipple.

they both drooled, the visible stain on the lace panties made them both desperate to open your pussy even more.

but now it was jungkook's turn, so namjoon sat on the couch.

jungkook took off his clothes so quickly, and going to the bed, kissing you when you put the legs on his waist, trying feel something.

"are you always so desperate? in my house, now here, why?” hes bite your lips. “i can fuck this hole open now, you are so wet, fuck, look your leaky cunt, my cock going to feel so good in you… but, i think that your boyfriend want to see i’m playing with you first”

jungkook playing with your tits leans down to start sucking on your nipples, include painful bites every now and then making scream his name when his mark you with purple hickies.

so, jungkook take off your panties, putting on your mouth.

“shut the fuck up, dumb! i even started and you moaned like a pathetic slut.”

he groping your clit, your hole dripping and making a mess, you are so embarrassed, and namjoon watches everything.

and he's like.

so much.

he took advantage of the open legs to stick his face there, running his tongue slowly over your folds, giving a light bite to the clitoris that made you scream in pain and then pull jungkook's hair.

“if you touch me one more time, i will ruin you”

you took off yours hands grabbing the sheet when his eat your in a brutal way, you can feel your tongue your lips, your nose, even you chin, every part of jungkook's face on your pussy.

namjoon appreciated that, took off your underwear, releasing your dick, your massive purple dick with precum.

when jungkook bite your clit, you pulled his hair.

and you receive a slap.

“disgusting whore, you can't do what i'm say? i don't need that your hole, i can fuck others, you are not special! so do what i'm say or i’m gonna away!”

without warning, jungkook puts two fingers inside you, take your underwear of ou mouth just for listen your scream due to agressiveness that you are fucked. you tried close your legs, not because you don't wanna it, but because was too much, soo good, but jungkook did not let.

“if you cum now, you it will end with fun, please, don’t be a useless slut”

and he's continuous. you moaning so loud every time his fingers is in and out of you.

namjoon looking everything with a devocion.

“two fingers are enough to break your tiny cunt? god, can you imagine how will it be with my fat cock?”

so you cum… without permission.

and jungkook hit in your face, squeezing your neck.

“disgusting whore, i told you to not cum”

he pinch your clit.

and you scream.

and he do again, and again, and again.

jungkook grabbed your hair and got you out of bed, on your knees

“you can cum on my mouth?” you asked when he took de underwear.

“in your face, bitches like you deserves this”

you smiled, and jungkook's response was a spit in your face.

“you know, two slaps in my thigh and i stop” you agreed.

he waste no time fucking and shooting their hot precum down your throat.

due to the rudeness, tears started to flow from your eyes, but that would never be a bad thing, you were just making the most of jungkook.

namjoon moaned so loud when u gasp on jungkook dick, and that's when you realized that namjoon was masturbating.

“this is the best you can do? poor namjoon, pathetic mouth”

jungkook pushes your head so that your nose touches his pelvis, and holds you there, until you cough.

“cum on her face, jungkook, dirty this slut!”

jungkook moaned before your cock spit sperm on your face, the cum spills out around the cock in your face, some leaking down onto your tits.

it was divine.

“doggy style, whore, i want to fuck you like my pathetic puppy”

jungkook slapped you, and then another, and another, and another.

your ass burned and so did jungkook's hand, but he would continue hitting until he got tired, after all, at that moment you were his, and he had permission to use you as desired.

your pussy dripped onto the bed. jungkook laughed, and then positioned himself behind you, rubbing his cock against your swollen clit, whereupon he pushed you further onto the bed, so that his chest was touching the mattress and your ass was in the air.

once fully sheathed, the jungkooks cock widens your pussy open, pulls all the way out and slams all the way back in.

jungkook thrust so hard that the shock of his hips hurt, but you like it, namjoon and jungkook too.

namjoon increased the speed of his masturbation, still being careful not to cum, he didn't want to cum like that.

you really want the cock of your boyfriend in you too now, in your mouth, asshole, whatever, you just need both of them fuck you, and you made a mental note for this.

“that shitty pussy of yours can handle anything, right? i bet i can fit my balls inside you too”

jungkook starts brutally rubbing your engorged clit, you throw your head back, drool slipping past in the sheet.

“fleet wide pussy, you can take the cock of your boyfriend here too, maybe we can gonna try this some day”

it was pathetic the way you moaned “yes, please”

he laughed, gripped your hips so hard you’re sure there’ll be bruises, your titties flop brushing on the sheet with each thrust. soo good, so messy.

“who owns you?” jungkook asked.

“n-namjoon!”

namjoon watched everything mesmerized, he had already read reports about cuckolding, he knew it was fun to watch, he just didn't expect it to be so much. he didn't even want to go in there, he just wanted to watch his girlfriend being destroyed by his best friend.

that was enough.

“you're a whore who has an owner but loves cumming on someone else's dick. disgusting bitch.” he continued thrusting without any shame. “tell me what you are”

“a w-whore”

“exactly, a whore that acepts everything since you hole is full. is your owner enjoying watching this? this disgusting show you're putting on?”

“h-hes lik-kes”

“we’ll see”

jungkook pulled himself out of you and by your hair for what must have been the hundredth time that night, you didn't quite understand what he wanted but you just followed him.

you were dragged to the armchair where his boyfriend was, and in a single movement jungkook made his body fall onto namjoon's.

and there you were: holding on to your boyfriend's shoulder while prancing towards another.

he entered again, mercilessly punching his dick into the slut who was his at that moment.

you held Namjoon's shoulder, he felt like his dick could explode because of how horny he was.

jungkook pulled your hair hard again, forcing you to face namjoon.

“say to your boyfriend how much you like this”

jungkook still brutally rubbing your engorged clit, making you lose the conscience with the pleasure.

“namjonnie… s-so go-good”

you cried, lost in your own excitement, you didn't even care how deplorable you looked at the moment.

“good, sweetheart?” namjoon said, taking his hand off his dick and just enjoying his girfriend's body folded over his while jungkook fucked her. “what are you, my dear?”

“a wh-whore, desperate for coc- jungkook i’m gon-gonna cu-”

“cum, whore, but i won’t stop fuck this hole still i’m cum in you’’

“i'll like it more when i see your cum dripping from her pussy. and i'm sure she does too, right, baby? says what you want” your boyfriend said.

“jungkooks cum”

“where do you want? be more specific, princess” namjoon spoke docilely, but the lust in his speech was clear.

“in m-my pus-sy, for you will ea-eat l-ater!

“cum, doll, i want to see you cum for us”

"doll" jungkook laughed. “cum, whore, and enjoy me filling you with cum”

you scream, cumming on jungkook’s cock.

your legs are shaking and if it weren't for jungkook's strength you wouldn't even be able to stand.

but luckily, jungkook was strong, and not only did he hold you back, but he continued fucking you roughly.

“i'm going to fill this pussy so much that it's going to overflow on your boyfriend's cock”

“j-jungkook” you moaned, feeling your cunt fluttering on his dick.

“i'm going to gaping this pussy, when your boyfriend goes to fuck her, it will be completely wide by me”

you couldn't stand anymore, and that's when namjoon got up to help hold you down, while jungkook continued fucking you like crazy.

“behave” your boyfriend told you.

“now watch me fill this hole open” jungkook said before cum.

still with his leg wobbly, jungkook left you, sitting on the couch.

namjoon didn't say anything, he just lifted you on his lap and fitted your pussy onto his dick. tears ran down your face and your mouth didn't even close, moans and more moans were made as you clung to your boyfriend's neck as you were pushed against his thick cock.

“are you what?”

you knew the weight of this question, if you answered something profane, namjoon would continue fucking you without any mercy, but if you said you was just his princess he would go slowly. after all, that was your dynamic, pleasure is good, but safety comes first.

“your whore!”

namjoon didn't respond, he just threw you on the bed, bending your legs leaving you in an almost fetal position.

eh started thrusting again and at that point jungkook's cum squirted onto his member, and damn, that was so exciting.

the large body collided against you and moaned more and more and was driving them both crazy.

you came on your boyfriend’s cock, shaking in a way namjoon had never seen before.

you had reached the peak, it was clear.

so namjoon removed himself from inside you as quickly as possible, respecting your limit, and called his friend.

"come on, jungkook, cum in her one more time"

namjoon arranged his legs, leaving them wide open.

and started masturbating, soon Jungkook joined him.

they masturbated their members quickly, until jets of cum came out and fell towards your pussy, which was already full of cum.

even though you were tired, you took two fingers there, smearing them and then putting them in your mouth.

you were exhausted.

and you have plans for the next time…

454 notes · View notes

hisunshiine · 2 months

Text

—revelations under the moon

🌙 pairing: alpha!namjoon x omega!reader 🌙 au/genre: ABO au, fated mates au, angst, smut 🌙 series rating: M 🌙 wc: 9,468 🌙 series warnings: mentions of an off-screen character death (barely a character tbh), brief male masturbation, thoughts of 'cheating' (if they aren't true mates though..is it?), cursing, retelling of a fake historical fable that includes VERY brief mentions of murder and suicide as the consequence of a tragic hero's hubris explicit sexual content: biting, marking, knotting, semi-rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare 🌙 an: wow, i did not think i would get this out in time, january was a rough month for me, but my grandpa just finished his last lung cancer treatment last week, and im trying to just balance all the stress of real life, but yeah, i think it's getting better. thank you to my beta readers, @downbad4yoongi @moonleeai and @peachiilovesot7 i appreciate all your help, whether you helped in december or in february, it is much appreciated, as always. you're the best hype squad. this is also my first ABO story, so if you hate it don't tell me. LOL 🌙 summary: "When crescent rises, we shall rise as one, Aligned with moonrise, our time has begun." Alpha-heir Namjoon and his long time sweetheart are thought to be the next pair to rule Highscrest, but when Duskfall is attacked, the heir makes a decision that changes the course of not only his and his girlfriend's destiny, but yours as well.

This story is part of the "New Year, New Me Love" @bangtanwritershq gift exchange, written for the lovely @colormepurplex2! Happy Valentine's Day!

🌒🌒🌒 Tuesday - Waxing Gibbous

The loud chatter of the crowd irritates you; your senses are on overdrive after the past two weeks you’ve had. Packing and moving everything you own across the river during the New Moon was unexpected—almost as unexpected of it being a result of a peace treaty signed by the Beta of your old pack after the death of Alpha Tyvrin.

A Beta jostles you in an attempt to move closer to the raised platform at the far end of the civic center, and you shoot him a quick glare before turning your attention back to the men on stage to avoid any drama. An Omega glaring at a Beta isn’t as bad as if it was an Alpha, but insubordinate enough still. The new tribe members do not know your previous role in Duskfall and have every right to challenge any hierarchical disrespect.

“Quiet, please,” a voice rumbles quietly, but everyone in the room follows the directive. You recognize the Alpha Father, or the father of the Alpha-Heir and most recent Pack Alpha of Highcrest, at the podium. Your irritation drops as your senses can finally focus now that the room is silent. The smells of so many new pack members still suffocates your olfactory system, but it’s bearable now. One scent seems to overpower the rest, a clean forestry smell that seems to dilute the others. “Good evening, and thank you all for coming tonight. We hope you all have been acclimating to the changes these past few weeks. If you have any concerns, please reach out to any of us here.”

The Alpha Father waves over his son, stepping aside to let him take the lead of the rest of the meeting. Your eyes drink in the lithe movements highlighted by the fit of his suit. “Thank you, Alpha Father. For those of you who are joining us from Duskfall, at the time of the New Moon three months prior, I began the ascension steps. Right before your arrival, I had just finished the last of the three trials. All that remains is the bonding.”

You look around the room to see if anyone else is having the same reaction to his voice as you are—the crowd is transfixed; all attention is on the Alpha Heir Kim Namjoon. He’s young, almost thirty, but commands the stage. It’s not just because he’s handsome, though the blue suit and his dark brown hair help. His aura oozes from afar, your inner wolf screaming at you that this is a man you would follow and it’s your turn to receive a dirty look as you bump into the person in front of you. You turn back to the stage, ears attuning to his baritone as he continues.

“—final ceremony will take place in three days, and as you all know, I will be selecting my mate. I know that there are many newcomers who may be wary of joining the pack with all of these changes happening so soon, but please have faith in us. Highcrest will protect you all, and we will be at full strength as soon as the full moon rises in a week.”

Some applause breaks out, and his confidence soothes the wolf inside you that worries about this treaty. Highcrest sits on the eastern side of the Twin Rivers split, atop the range that leads to Twin Falls. Your previous pack, Duskfall, was integrated into Highcrest two weeks ago after Shadowhide attacked and killed Alpha Tyvrin under the cover of the New Moon, in a successful attempt at taking the land between the two streams.

The fertile soil and access to the freshwater source has been a source of contention between Duskfall and Shadowhide for decades, and while a group consisting of the Alpha, Beta and his best warriors patrolled your western border, Shadowhide attacked. The Beta and a few others escaped by the grace of the moon, which gave the pack enough warning to prepare and kept Shadowhide at bay now that the act of surprise was gone. With the Alpha slain and the clock ticking before Shadowhide invaded, the Beta had no choice but to reach out to Highcrest for help. A peace treaty was signed, allowing all pack members of Duskfall to join Highcrest in exchange for their commitment to the pack. Any members who were against the treaty were allowed to leave of their own volition and go back to the main city, or find a pack of their choosing, but with the danger of Shadowhide’s takeover imminent, everyone agreed to travel east across the river and up the mountain range to the safety of Highcrest.

“Thank you to all of Duskfall’s former pack for all of your patience with us as we’ve worked to create a space for all of you here in Highcrest. After the ceremony, which is open to all unmated Omegas, everyone from Duskfall will officially be of Highcrest, and those who have not yet finished their commitment rites can do so at that time.”

You watch as Kim Namjoon waves over a tall, slender woman with sleek hair falling down her back. She is the picture of elegance, her walk stalking forward in a hypnotic fashion as she steps beside the Alpha-Heir and speaks to the crowd. You recognize her from the Apothecary you’ve been training in ever since you’ve settled into your new life here.

“Good evening, everyone. I’m Min Everlight, an Omega of pack Highcrest. I am the head healer for the pack, and if Alpha Namjoon is ever unavailable, please come see me down at the Apothecary. I’ll help in whatever capacity I can in his absence.” Her hand moves almost subconsciously towards his, and they intertwine fingers. “We have committed our lives to this pack, and all of us up here will do our best to provide for Highcrest. Please stop by the apothecary this week if you haven’t yet received the Aconite to remove your Duskfall markings in preparation for your Highcrest one.”

Everlight stays linked to Namjoon as he takes a slight step forward to end the meeting.

“When the crescent rises,” he begins, and the people around you intone their response.

“We, too, shall rise.”

Walking under the waxing gibbous, you and your Beta roommate, Sana, wave goodbye to one of your elderly neighbors. You’ve been checking on all of the members of your old pack, helping them in any way you can to get them acclimated after work. You go home tired every night, but you want to make sure this merger works.

Sana skips ahead as your new home comes into sight, singing the Alpha-Heir’s praises. “He’s so brilliant, I promise you this is the best thing that could’ve happened to us. And Min Everlight? She’s amazing, right? You’ve been working under her these past couple of weeks, isn’t she effervescent?”

You laugh at her excitement, answering her vaguely as you unlock the door to your shared home. “She knows her stuff, that’s for sure. I’ve learned a few new things already since we’ve been here, but most of it I already knew.” Sana dreamily wanders to her bedroom, ignoring your slight diss and chattering mostly to herself about how wonderful tribe Highcrest is. You plop onto the couch unceremoniously, thoughts on Min Everlight.

Everlight is effervescent, with an inner glow that makes her the perfect Omega as mate for the Alpha-Heir. You’ve heard from the other women at the Apothecary that she and Namjoon have been dating for years. Longtime sweethearts and—if their little show on stage meant anything—his choice for his mate. This thought makes you feel sick, because ever since you walked away from Duskfall and followed him to Highcrest, your heart has thrummed for him.

Taking a deep breath that you let out with a sigh, you change your line of thinking before you venture towards a vitriol hatred of your soon-to-be female leader. Min Everlight has been nothing but motherly and nurturing to all of you since your arrival, but the more you see her all over the Alpha-Heir, the harder it is to like her. Not just because of her romantic relationship with Namjoon, either, but that she represents everything that you almost were, and reminds you of everything you lost.

You scratch at your upper arm over your shirtsleeve, where the Aconite serum you rubbed on earlier dissolves your Duskfall tattoo in preparation for your Highcrest one. The Aconite is diluted and mixed with other herbs to prevent poisoning that would weaken you before the ceremony. Sana disappears into the shared bathroom to shower, and you close your eyes for a moment not meaning to fall asleep as you wait for your turn.

The moon goddess blesses you with dreams of Duskfall past, memories of your destined path as the tribe’s Luna-to-be—the Omega paired to the now fallen Alpha Tyvrin—and you wake to the reality that all you have trained for was for naught.

🌓🌓🌓 Wednesday - Waxing Gibbous

Or, more like you wake with the sudden slam of a door, sitting upright as you squint to keep back the sunlight.

“Damn, you slept on the couch?” Sana questions, looking cheery and well-rested.

You clear your throat to answer. “Yeah, I guess so. What time is it?”

Sana glances at her watch. “Um, it’s half past eight.”

“Shit, I overslept, and I’m supposed to meet with Everlight again today.” You stand abruptly, and begin organizing all of the large pillows on the couch, laying the blanket just so until you hear Sana laughing at you. You look up at her with a glare. “What?”

“I think you might be in pre-heat. You’ve fluffed that pillow at least three times, and that blanket cannot be folded over the back of the couch any more perfectly unless you’ve got a protractor in the cabinet.”

“There’s no way, it hasn’t been enough time since the last one.” You ignore her as you clamber back onto the couch, tucking your legs up under you seemingly forgetting your plans for the day.

“Your heat is probably gearing up because of some Alpha at the meeting last night. With Tyvrin gone, rest in moonlight, you’re no longer taking the suppressants are you? With everything that’s happened, it makes sense that you’d forget,” she theorizes, “and apparently Highcrest doesn’t have that practice here.”

You can’t believe you’ve forgotten. In Duskfall, you were chosen by Alpha Tyvrin to be his mate, and asked to take suppressants until the ceremony. This was to help to prevent you from having a heat, decreasing your pheromones from triggering any non-bonded Alpha’s into their ruts and endangering you. These past few weeks since the move, you haven’t been taking any suppressants, and you’re sure by now it's run its course and is out of your system.

“They don’t practice that here?”

“No, weren’t you listening at the meeting? The Alpha-Heir doesn’t choose his mate the same way like in Duskfall. Highcrest has a different ceremony. All unmated Omega’s can be part of it.”

“But isn’t Everlight most likely going to be chosen anyways?”

“I hear there’s blindfolds involved, so maybe instead of sulking, and filling the apartment with your sour scent, you can just join the ceremony and give it a try.”

The news fills your chest with what feels like sunbeams, and you smile at the Beta as you relax into what you’re now realizing is a nest.

“Ah, the room smells so much nicer now. Also—you’re late.”

🌓🌓🌓 Wednesday - Waxing Gibbous

Kim Namjoon sits patiently outside the Apothecary, waiting for Everlight to finish for the day. He can sense her inside, her scent a fresh scent of clean linen, just brought down off of the line after soaking in the sun. It’s always been the strongest scent to him, out of all of the women in Highcrest, and he’s sure that the Moon Goddess will prove her to be his mate this weekend when he ascends to his Alpha status.

Fingers drumming along his clothed knee, he hums to himself as he watches the sunrays filtering through the trees as it sets. The small bell above the door chimes as small groups of girls and women of all ages trickle out from the shop—Everlight hosted a gathering after work for all of the newcomers to review the Highcrest ceremony procedures for women, and they all bow respectfully when they catch sight of him seated in the chair near the door.

Namjoon can’t help but wonder what else they were working on today, his nose itches to investigate whatever new tonic or serum she’s put together this time—the smell is amazing. Like a warm honey coating his tongue, hints of bourbon with small bursts of brown sugar peaking his interest. He hopes it’s not something inedible, like the Aconite serum, and his curiosity getting the better of him, he stands, unbuttoning his suit jacket and moving to peer through the small glass windows framed in the center of the door.

Ah, he thinks as he takes in one of the new pack members, Everlight must have let one of the Duskfall women teach a new tonic. Namjoon recognizes you through the dusty glass standing in front of the group, and remembers that his Beta, Seokjin, had pointed you out from afar when you first arrived.

🌑Two Weeks Ago 🌑 Monday - New Moon

“That’s Alpha Tyvrin’s mate, er—was his mate. They hadn’t actually had the ceremony yet, the attack happened before the full moon ceremony could happen, but she was set to be Duskfall’s Luna.” Seokjin’s finger points down the lane from the window of City Hall, connecting to a woman walking towards the villager housing area. Namjoon eyes you warily before posing a series of questions to his Beta.

“Will it be an issue to have two mature Luna’s in a pack? Should we offer to place her with another pack to mate with an Alpha?”

“I don’t know…I haven’t ever heard of something like this happening. Typically the Alpha has already mated the Luna, and since one cannot live without the other—”

“I see.” Namjoon understands why the Moon Goddess would create such a fate for paired leaders. “Had the ceremony already happened, she would be buried next to him. It could be a help, now that we have so many more people, to have two strong healers in the pack. Maybe she could travel on patrols in case of an attack?” He wonders how Everlight would react to finding out that there’s another Luna-trained Omega in the pack, and if this would be a way to spin it to lessen any blowback.

Seokjin looks thoughtful, eyebrows lifted as he tilts his head and gathers his words carefully. “That could be a good option for the second Luna, so that their training and skills do not go to waste, especially now that our pack has grown…It could also be worth mentioning—with so many new members, it would be a good show of faith if you were to perhaps choose the Duskfall Luna as your mate—”

Namjoon’s growl silences Seokjin momentarily but he presses on when he sees no claws being barred.

“I’m just saying, nothing helps unite two packs better than having one of their own integrated into the upper levels of the hierarchy. If we want to keep peace and help Duskfall feel loyalty to Highcrest, taking their to-be-Luna as your mate would be the smart move. You and Everlight aren’t fated, so it’s not like our pack would frown upon it under the circumstances—”

Namjoon’s eyes cut like daggers as he stares his Beta down, almost dragon-like in ferocity as he contains his inner beast. “Everlight is my mate, Seokjin. I would never betray her like that.”

🌓🌓🌓 Wednesday (present) - Waxing Gibbous

Looking at you now, Namjoon is glad to see that you and Everlight seem to have no issues working alongside each other. After reading through previous Alphas’ historical notes and reviewing the history of the packs of the Twin Rivers Valley, he decided that it would be best to keep you around, as he worries his newest constituents would revolt if they thought he had banished you from Highcrest. He spent the first couple of weeks talking to other elder members of Duskfall, and learned that a lot of the pack had come to rely on you as they became acclimated, that you had been going around to visit with them and check-in, and keep them all calm with the changes happening.

He appreciated that you had taken this on as a duty, especially when you were dealing with the biggest blow of all. Namjoon meant to meet with you to thank you, but the longer he took, the more it felt fake, rehearsed, and like an afterthought instead of what it really was: an Alpha-Heir not yet familiar with his role, and learning about you from afar made him feel like a weird stalker of sorts that he had all this knowledge of you and your skills from others.

Your skills would be most useful to their pack, and though you were meant to lead the pack by an Alpha’s side, you could still maintain some modicum of that role, just as the second to Everlight. Namjoon is sure this plan will work. He plans to have a meeting with Seokjin and Everlight tonight, that way he can make sure that they will follow his plan without any issues.

He knows he could just order everyone to follow along, but using his Alpha to force others to do what he wants doesn’t always work out in the long run. The history of the tribal lands and the fact that there were three distinct tribes from the original one, up until Tyvrin’s death, is proof of that.

It’s much better for a leader to have the consenting loyalty of his pack, instead of forced fealty that brews contempt and derision. Namjoon steps back from the door to allow another person to exit, and once again, the honeyed bourbon seeps through the opening. It’s much stronger this time, urging him to his feet almost against his will.

He feels his blood thrumming, pounding through his veins like a rushing river. Namjoon checks his forehead, as if feverish, and notices his hand comes back with a sheen of sweat. It’s like he’s gone into pre-rut, which would be crazy. He’s pretty regular when it comes to his ruts lining up with Everlight’s heats, and she’s still not due for a little bit…

Namjoon stumbles backward, taking the three steps back to solid ground quickly as he tugs at the collar of his buttoned shirt. He’s too hot, it’s all too much, he has to do something, move, but he’s in the middle of the town, there are people who look to him to be more restrained than this standing all around…Namjoon trips a little on the gravel beneath his feet as he takes off back towards City Hall and away from Everlight, afraid that if she is due for her heat and his pre-rut was triggered by that, he would mount her right there in front of the last few people in the store and fuck her hard against the counter, not caring if everyone saw the powerful way he drove his cock in and out of her until he filled her with cum and knotted her.

He’s locked himself in his office, blinds closed with his fist wrapped around his thick length as he imagines it: his hands firm on the plump rounds of ass, spreading the cheeks apart as he spits between them, Omega slick lathering his cock with every stroke and the tight walls sucking him back in with every pump out, and when he cums—copious amounts leaking around his large hand—it’s only then that he realizes that it wasn’t the clean linen-scented Everlight he was imagining taking his knot.

🌔🌔🌔 Thursday - Waxing Gibbous

You’re irritated—more so than you’ve been since your entire life was turned upside down two weeks ago. The Beta that’s always around the Alpha, Seokjin, randomly showed up at your place in the morning saying you were tasked to go on a supply run to the nearest city. It makes sense—Seokjin explained that the Alpha had handpicked everyone in the group to help new pack members meet others and start to learn their ways, and you appreciate it, except for the fact that you don’t want to be far from home right now.

In fact, because of the upcoming ceremony, Everlight had let all of the women training in the apothecary have the next few days off, as she expected to be chosen and wanted to prepare herself and her home for what was to come. You had mixed feelings when she initially announced this to everyone, because while you enjoy the respite from the constant go-go-go of changes around you, the reason behind it left you feeling miffed.

All of yesterday, you spent time working at the Apothecary and were even asked by some of the others to show them some tonics and potions that they had never heard of, and while you enjoy teaching others, it’s quite draining to go through the motions while talking through every step you make, and why. The girls quietly scribbled down your words in their notebooks, committing your teachings to paper, which made you feel good about yourself, until reality hit about your future.

It almost didn’t feel fair that you were so new to the pack and already others were looking to you to train and teach them new things, meanwhile another person is slated to take the position you’ve wanted and trained for your whole life.

Shaking away your thoughts, you tap back into the moment, finally having arrived in the bustling city a little past mid-day. You hate all of the smells; the odor rising from the sewer grates and scents from the people who jostle you as they rudely push past your group. You hold back the urge to plug your nose, sighing out a weighted exhale as you follow Seokjin through the automatic sliding doors and into a grocer’s market.

🌔🌔🌔 Thursday - Waxing Gibbous

Back in the forest, a half day’s trip from the city, Kim Namjoon spends his time in his office again, hiding out from his duties by disguising them as last minute studying and planning for the ceremony.

He couldn’t bring himself to meet with Everlight the previous night, instead calling Seokjin only to discuss the plans for the supply run. He looked over the list of items Everlight needed in the apothecary, and only because the winter months were starting to fade away into spring meant this would be the last expensive trip until winter came again.

Bees do not make honey in the winter, so why can’t he explain away the coincidence of the honey bourbon smell and the note written in Everlight’s scrawl next to the requested item underlined twice: Honey — we’ve been out for ages!! He doesn’t want to believe that he could be feeling this way for someone other than Everlight, but of two things he knows for sure: he smelled honey, and Everlight is distinctly NOT a honey smell.

Seeing that on the list had Namjoon rise with a wild idea, to send the other Luna far, far away for the day, to help him clear his mind. In reality, he paces his office, wearing thin the once plush carpet with his worried steps until he can’t take it anymore. Crossing the room, he walks with such a force that no one dares to question where he’s off to.

He knows where you live, knows that your Beta roommate Sana should be home, and when he knocks on the door with authority, he expects Sana to fling the door open so hastily that the movement sends the mixed scents of the apartment wafting out at him. Instantly, he expects his spine to straighten as his whole body is overwhelmed by the truth—except that never comes. No one is home, as a kind older woman politely points out to him after his third attempt at knocking.

“Those girls went into town today, it seemed like the Luna had to drag Sana along with her,” she chuckled, clearly a pack member who was fond of the two women. “Did you want me to tell them you stopped by?”

“No! I mean—no need to worry them about my visit, I can talk to them tomorrow, thank you.”

He swiftly departs, deciding to just head home instead of back to the office for some peace.

“Joonie!”

Barely having set foot in his residence, Namjoon is bombarded with the irritating scent of laundry detergent. It’s too pungent; overwhelming in a way that he’s never experienced before. He catches himself before his nose wrinkles and Everlight ascends into his arms. He hugs her back, planting a soft kiss to the side of her head in an endearing manner before she pulls him into the dining room for an early dinner with his parents.

Namjoon spends the evening engaged in conversation with his parents and Everlight, avoiding talks of the ceremony as best he can—despite his mother and girlfriend's best attempts. His dad eyes him warily—in that cunning way that only another Alpha can—sensing the change in the dynamics within the room. Namjoon is grateful his father remains quiet, simply watching the conversation over the nightcap of barrel-aged Cabernet Sauvignon from their cellar.

Once they call it a night and his parents disappear to their room, Everlight begs Namjoon to stay over, and unable to say no to the woman he’s never said no to before, he relents. He regrets this decision almost immediately, as his hopes that Everlight would help him take his mind off of the one thing that’s been at the forefront of it are crushed.

“She’s just really good at healing. She knows a lot, like I can’t believe I’m even admitting it, but she knows things that I don’t. And the things I have been able to teach her, she learns it so quickly and easily. I’m actually kind of jealous.”

Namjoon can tell; Everlight’s face is scrunched up in a way that makes her look unattractive, and he doesn’t know what to do or to say to make her feel less insecure.

“Maybe it’s a good thing she is joining our pack. It’s important to learn and grow continuously.” It’s as diplomatic as he can be at the moment.

“Yes, but she’s trained as a Luna, just like me. It’s a little like she’s trying to take my spot. Yesterday, while I was teaching, the other girls asked her to teach them something I didn’t know, and I just had to stand there and let her take over my lesson. The girls were so focused on her and taking notes, it made me kind of hate her.”

She’s looking at him, her eyes trying to find something within his, but he looks away, reaching for the light next to his bed.

Everlight reaches for him, aligning her body to his as her fingers grip his shoulders so she can position herself atop him.

“That’s why I can’t wait for the ceremony, baby. We can finally be a true, mated pair. Start our forever, with me as your Luna. No room for confusion from the pack about who will bear your pups.” Her eyebrows waggle up and down suggestively as she lowers her lips to his plump ones. “We can practice now if you want, you can scent me, let all the bitches in heat know to back off.” She kisses him again.

Namjoon kisses her back, but her laundry odor fills his nasal cavity and her words are so off-putting for the role she hopes to take on for the pack. He can feel her hands travel down his ribcage, but nothing about her touch turns him on. Pulling away from the kiss, he catches his breath as he readies his excuse.

“Babe, I think we should wait,” his large hands hold her shoulders firmly before his touch grows softer, palms smoothing up and down her arms in a soothing motion. “The ceremony is so soon, and I want it to be sacred…I know that might sound cheesy and un-Alpha-like but—”

“No, you’re right.” Everlight smiles softly at him, but he can see the hurt in her eyes at being rejected. “I’m just feeling overwhelmed with all of the new pack members and the changes happening, I think I got a little over excited.”

“I love that about you, you know? You’re excitement over things, and how you want to be the best version of yourself for our pack. You’re already an amazing Luna in your own right.”

Everlight excuses herself to the bathroom, and Namjoon clambers off his bed, bare feet leading him towards his cracked bedroom window. In the light of the almost full moon, he can now see the noises that drew his attention moments ago: returning members of his pack walking down the path to their homes.

There’s no mistaking it now. A warmth blooms from his groin, spreading higher until his neck grows hot from it as his nose and mouth feel thick with the sweetest bourbon honey scent. With you unaware of his gaze as you laugh with Seokjin and Sana, he feels jealousy boiling into his chest.

“Mine.”

🌕🌕🌕 Friday - Full Moon

You wake up late on Friday morning, your body a little stiff and sore. You feel as if you slept with a heater on, sleep clothes clinging to your body due to the sweat that covers your skin. You try to shake it off, but the feeling doesn’t go away, even after a cold shower.

You’re not surprised you woke up mid afternoon after arriving back at Highcrest near midnight, but you suppose the excitement of what’s to come will keep you awake the rest of the evening. You have to meet the elders for the pre-ceremony rituals at the start of moonrise, so you eat a light snack in the hopes it won’t trouble your stomach too much.

You know now that Sana is right. Your heat will kick in no later than tomorrow afternoon, with the confirmation of the night sweating and soreness symptoms appearing today, but you worry about what it will mean if you end up not being chosen…you’ll begin cramping and sink into Omega-space, leaving you vulnerable to other higher ranking pack members without a plan prepared to get you through your heat.

At quarter till six, you leave your home with a small bag of items and head to city hall, where Elder Aline waits for you and the other Omegas who planned to join the ceremony to arrive. Elder Aline was old—she worked closely with the Luna three times removed was in power, and lived to prepare both of her successors, and now would be helping to prepare this ceremony.

You hug your bag to your chest as the last of the group arrives: Everlight. She only looks slightly surprised to see you in the group of seven Omega’s, but she fixes her facial features quickly and offers you a bright smile.

“I didn’t expect to see you in the group!” Everlight’s tone is friendly enough, but the undercurrent of her words screams out territorial.

“Oh, yeah, my roommate said I should come as an unmated Omega to take part in the ceremony. It’s different from our previous pack’s tradition, and if I hope to carry out my duties and help with future ceremonies, the best way to learn is to be part of it, right?”

Your answer makes sense, perfectly curated to help push away any questions that dig too deep into your motivations, including yourself. Part of you knew that it would be beneficial to you if the worst comes to fruition, but the other part, the more primitive part, knows the real reason is because the wolf inside of you longs for your mate to be Kim Namjoon.

Elder Aline calls for your attention, her weathered voice a calming stillwater that acts as a soothing balm to the nervous energy in your chest. She speaks to the group, sharing some information about how the rest of the night will play out before she leads your small group towards the outskirts of Highcrest, to the south of a small lake on the edge of the forest. The walk takes a bit of time to navigate the terrain, especially with an Elder leading.

You allow her moments to pause and rest, clearly fatigued from traipsing through high grasses and uneven dirt, but soon enough you are there, and placed along the treeline, a small clearing awaits you. She makes quick work of explaining the first ritual’s steps, and you allow her voice to lead you through the routine.

The cleansing ritual itself takes the better part of an hour, as everyone planning to participate strips down to enter the water under the light of the moon which now grazes the top of the trees. A small pouch filled with herbs and petals is handed to each of you to rid you of any lingering outside scents. You lather your skin, taking the time to clean every inch before stepping out to air dry. It’s colder than you expected, but no one wants to risk masking their scent for the ceremony.

The elder had laid a simple white dress on the shore of the lake near your bag, and once dry, you sheathed your body with it, happy for the fabric to provide some warmth. She pulls a thermos from her bag along with small cups.

“Purified under the new moon,” she intones, handing you a steaming cup of tea. “Red azaleas, to pull out your emotions and attract your true mate.”

You sip it slowly, letting the heat warm your hands. The other women join you after the elder gives them each a cup, and you huddle in a circle, trying to stay warm.

“I think it’s good that we have so many of us for the ceremony,” Everlight speaks, her voice light and airy. “It would be a boring ceremony if I was here by myself.”

Her words were clearly chosen carefully, meant to sound like a compliment to the others for their company, while laying claim to the role not yet given to her by the moon. You bristle, feeling your body heat up. Her comments were starting to annoy you, because a true Luna was not insecure or haughty. She was a healer, a person that others could go to when they needed strength, compassion, or empathy. Everlight seemed to have forgotten this.

“I think it is great that Highcrest’s tradition is different from ours, it feels more…pure.” You don’t know how else to describe it, but the act of having the alpha choose his mate through this ceremony feels like how it used to be. The elder hears you and her words confirm this.

“This is the true ceremony. But come now, it is about time for us to begin.”

She leads you around to the north side of the lake. A small copse of trees had blocked the incoming sight, and now that you were closer, you could see the small gathering of pack members standing in a crescent.

Directing you to step into the open space, she takes your cups from each of you as the seven of you line up with ample space between each other. You look around nervously. The cold you felt earlier when you were wet and naked exiting the lake was gone; you notice that you feel hot. You’ve felt hot since drinking the tea.

The crowd murmurs quietly to one another as you look around for Sana, finally finding her to the right near the top point of the moon shape they were standing in. She waves at you, a smile breaking across her face as she takes you in.

All at once the noise in the forest dies out. The muttering follows suit, and Elder Aline steps before the crowd.

“Before the great divide of the tribal lands, the Alpha’s mate was never set in stone until the ceremony was completed. Even if the Alpha had taken many lovers as a young pup, it matters not, for what the moon reveals is the truth. And an Alpha dare not disobey the moon, lest the pack fall weak.”

She then begins her tale of the history of the original tribe they descended from.

“Many, many moons ago, we once existed as a proud and noble pack led by an Alpha of unmatched strength and wisdom named Lycaon. Under his reign, our pack thrived, united as one for the good of the group. We honored the ancient laws dictated by the phases of the moon, for we knew the moon's power was both a gift and a curse. Before the divide, we could shapeshift along with the phases of the moon.

But Lycaon, with his pride swelling within him like a thunderous storm cloud, began to question the moon's choice for his fated mate. He refused his fated Omega, instead choosing who he wanted, and not who our celestial goddess knew our pack needed. Ignoring the warnings of his most trusted Betas, Lycaon decided that his unborn son would also choose his own mate, not the moon.

At first, this defiance seemed to have no negative impact. But before long, cracks began to appear between pack members. By refusing the moon's guidance, the pack ended up with an Alpha-chosen Luna who was not prepared for her role. The rejected Luna fell melancholy, and took her own life, saying she could not watch the ruin of her pack. Some wolves found themselves unable to control their shifting, and began to attack their own kin in fits of madness. Other pack members grew weak—their bodies unable to withstand the impact of their dual nature.”

The entire crowd was enraptured hearing the tale, as Duskfall members did not know the history, and you are among them in learning the true history of the divide.

“As chaos descended upon our once-proud pack, Lycaon's authority waned as the full moon wanes. Desperate to maintain his grip on the pack, he resorted to ruling the pack with fear instead of respect. But his efforts only fueled the flames of discord, and soon, the pack was torn asunder by fights and betrayal.

In the aftermath of our pack's collapse, three new packs rose from the one, each led by a different wolf claiming to be the one true Alpha. They fought for the lands we stand upon today, with Lycaon’s son, Claudin, taking the hills to found Highcrest, and the other two packs fighting over the lower grounds. Claudin knew that in order to reclaim the strength and glory we had lost, he must not allow pride or the greed for power seduce him into betraying the moon.”

A low murmur swept through the crowd. You knew your former packmates had the same thoughts running through their mind as you did—could this really be true? Was Alpha Tyvrin’s downfall predestined to happen in order to reunite the original pack? Elder Aline coughs, and you focus back on her.

“And so, this tale of Alpha Lycaon and our pack serves as a tale of caution for generations, a reminder of the dangers of hubris and the importance of respecting the ancient laws that govern our kind. Alpha Claudin rectified the treachery his father had done unto the moon, but we shall never shift again as punishment.”

A quiet settles upon the crowd, and the elder gestures to a group of children you didn’t notice before. They step towards each of you, and she asks you all to kneel. The small child before you has a face like a cherub, full cheeks pulled tight as he shows his teeth to you, eyes disappearing in his delight.

He bequeaths a length of dark fabric, and his hands move so as to wrap the ends around your face, deftly knotting it behind your head. When you feel him step away, you stand back to full height. Your other senses are heightened, anxiety blossoming at what comes next. You hear footsteps, and sounds of awe and admiration sweep across the crowd stealing your nerves. You freeze in anticipation.

“Alpha Namjoon has done what we once thought impossible, uniting two tribes where whence was three, and we must continue to follow the moon’s guidance. We must not deceive ourselves. The moon will not lead us wrong. It will not lead him wrong.”

Seconds tick by as you wait, eyes furiously trying to see through the thick material stealing your sight. Seconds turn into minutes and you can hear the faint rustling of bare feet traveling across the grass, the weighted foot falls accompanied by heavy inhales of the still air surrounding the area. You know the Alpha has entered the clearing—can feel a palpable shift in the energy as your body grows hotter by the second. His scent sings to you, and you whine lowly, wanting to follow it.

Again, the crowd responds to something unseen by you, this time it has your inner wolf crouching, tail down and ears back—showing submission. Another whine escapes you, a little louder this time. Your distress must be filling the area around you, you can sense the crowd’s movement, reacting to your scent. You begin to panic, fearing that a distressed scent would push the Alpha to choose another, not the scared, submissive and pathetically whining bitch in heat—

🌕🌕🌕 Friday - Full Moon

Namjoon walks up to the clearing surrounded by his closest advisors, some of whom had been absent patrolling the borders and securing their land the past several weeks, and returned in time for the ceremony. As he approaches, the sounds in the forest quickly fade, as if sensing his arrival.

He waits for his signal to enter the clearing, far enough away that he can only smell the crowd of his pack members standing between him and the clearing where the Omegas will stand. Namjoon spent all day in the forest, away from town preparing for the ritual by hunting for game to be used for the meal to feed his mate before the knotting. He also had to follow the same cleansing tradition, bathing under the light of the full moon, drinking the purified new moon tea, and dressing in loose, white linen pants.

He tried his best to clear his mind from the events of the previous evening, and once he was away from the bustle of the town square, he found it easier to convince himself it was just a fluke. After years of being with Everlight, the idea of being fully committed must have made him feel a bit scared, so he latched onto the idea of something new, someone different…you.

Now, after his mindful afternoon in the forest, he knows he just has to trust the moon will lead him to Everlight, his mate. He knows her scent, knows it like he knows the taste of his mom’s cooking or the sound of his father’s favorite whiskey bottle opening.

As the moon climbs higher, he waits, steadily listening as the crowd quiets and Elder Aline speaks, recounting the tale of the original tribe. As she gets close to finishing her tale, Namjoon is tapped on the shoulder by Beta Taehyung, who motions to the blindfold in his hand.

“It’s time, Alpha.”

Namjoon nods, taking the blindfold from the younger male and covering his dragon-shaped orbs. He fastens the knot, and he senses when another one of his trusted Betas approaches him.

“I have the pouch here. Make sure to smell it deeply before—”

Beta Jungkook is interrupted by Namjoon. “I know, I know. Smell it deeply before I let my inner wolf out to track my mate.” He lifts an open palm so Jungkook can place the small, organza fabric reticule into his hand.

When he hears his name, he knows that’s his signal. He follows the sound of the elder’s voice to enter the clearing.

Raising the small sack to clear his olfactory senses, he inhales a piece of his own clothing, a small handkerchief he kept on him all week. A trick using olfactory habituation to cleanse his palate from the surrounding smells, allowing him to only smell his mate. The crowd shifts, he can hear stilted murmurs about his physique being on display since he was shirtless as he walks past his pack.

Stepping fully into the clearing, he inhales deeply, and instantly he picks up the laundry scent that he’s so used to being surrounded by. It’s definitely Everlight’s scent—he’s almost positive—but it has an edge to it, a slight tinge that he’s not used to smelling. The longer he stands there, the more the scent morphs into a cloying, headache inducing smell. It’s almost fake, a manufactured scent that doesn’t entice him.

He steps away from the smell of it, noting an undercurrent of something nice. The crowd reacts, confused at his actions, but he doesn’t care. He knows he has to trust the moon. And that bourbon-honey scent? He wants more of that. Lifting the pouch again to his nose to rid it of the sickly sweet smell, he drops his hand after a few inhalations, allowing the soft honey smell to seep into his pores. It’s alluring, growing more seductive by the moment, but then it takes on the additional bitter scent of anxiety, and Namjoon worries that something is wrong.

He can feel his inner wolf scratching to get closer, to protect, to save his mate—when he steps closer, the crowd reacts again, so he grabs at his blindfold, tearing it free so that he can get to you. He needs to calm you down, you need to feel safe, to know that your Alpha is here to protect you. He’s closer to you than expected, and the whine you let out calls to him in more ways than one.

His body feels alight with flames, he can see you’re trembling. His hand moves without him thinking, gripping the blindfold and tugging it up and off your head.

🌕🌕🌕 Friday - Full Moon

The light of the moon feels blinding as you blink to adjust your eyes to the sudden return of your sight before it’s eclipsed by the broad body of the Alpha. His breaths are almost frantic, a heavy panting that moves his shoulders with each exhalation as his wild eyes roam your face. His neck gland is hidden by a tied piece of cloth, masking his scent partially and you want to bury your face into him, seeking safety and comfort.

Your body responds to his proximity almost immediately, a simultaneous calming of the mind’s anxiety as physically you feel engulfed in a blaze, a sweat finally breaking out along your hairline as you’re thrown into full heat. Namjoon’s nostrils flare as he inhales you, his face looking triumphant as he kneels on one knee before you. He reaches for your hands, which tremble as he locks eyes with you.

“Namjoon, what the hell?!” Everlight stands several omegas down from you, her face free of the blindfold, which now dangles from her fingertips at her side. She doesn’t move for a moment, not until she realizes the Alpha was not responding to her. Her steps don’t falter as she gets closer to you, but your scent grows sour as you take in the murderous look on her face.

Namjoon’s movements are quick and fluid. He stands and postures himself, keeping you protected behind him as he shoves Everlight back with one hand.

“Mine,” he growls. Everlight drops the blindfold, confusion blossoming upon her face.

Namjoon turns to you, grasping your cheeks gently in his hands. “Mate.”

He throws his head back, and lets out a loud howl to the moon.

Chaos ensues. The entire field grows loud as some pack members celebrate the ceremony’s success, while others gossip about the outcome. You can hear snippets of the conversations until another voice grows louder, shouting at the Alpha. It’s Everlight, your brain registers, she’s angry, her sour scent wafting in your direction as she screams.

Some Betas you’ve never seen before hold her back, preventing her from coming closer to you and Namjoon. You back up, jostling into him, and the urge you had earlier grows so strong you don’t hold back. Jumping into his arms, you bury your nose into his neck, and you instantly melt against him, fatigued. Namjoon is startled but holds you tightly, and you can feel when he begins to walk swiftly away from the crowd.

You don’t question it, you just let your Alpha lead you to someplace safe. It takes a few minutes before you arrive at a small cottage, its windows lit with a soft glow. You recognize it for what it is—a mating cabin. Set far enough away from the town square that a newly mated Alpha and Luna can have alone time to get through the next few days.

Namjoon sets you down, but doesn’t let you go. Opening the door, the first thing you see is a pack of water on the small wooden table. It’s one large room, like a studio with an open concept. There’s a small kitchen set up to the left, and straight ahead is a large bed. The sheets are clean and welcoming, and you can feel your body beginning to cramp as your heat kicks in.

You knew it was coming—the low-grade fever, mild cramping, and more recently, increased slick and pheromone production ever since Namjoon touched you in the clearing. You shuffle, uncomfortable as slick leaks out of you, trailing down your thigh slowly.

You can hear Namjoon inhale sharply, before he’s kicking the door shut and grabbing you firmly. He doesn’t speak. His eyes say everything though, the adoration and lust sparkling in the low light in the room.

“Alpha.” It’s a statement. It’s a request.

His lips are on yours, devouring, tasting, suckling as if he can’t get enough of you.

“Honey. You taste like sweet bourbon infused honey…it’s intoxicating.” Namjoon kisses you again, this time his lips trail from yours to your neck. He teases you, teeth nipping at the skin as your thighs rub together seeking pleasure as he pulls sinful mewls from your throat. Your hands grip his upper arms, and you try to tug him towards the bed. You need him. You need his knot.

“Please, Alpha,” you beg, and he shivers in your hold, aroused by your submissiveness. “Need you.”

Namjoon lifts you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. You grind against him, biting his bottom lip aggressively. You feel so hot—burning up—and he’s the only thing that can cure you from this growing pain.

Your heat is in full swing, and you can tell it’s triggering your Alpha’s rut. He’s trying to hold back, be gentle and slow, but when you push your leaking core against him, he gives in. His hands fumble with the waistband of his linen pants before his heavy cock springs free, fully erect and searching for your entrance. You move your waist to help the angle of his cock, as one hand holds your hip and the other holds the base of his shaft to align himself.

When the slight pressure on your slit gives, you thrust forward, forcing him inside you with ease thanks to your copious amounts of slick. You feel full, the head hitting in just the right spot. Attempting to create friction, you try to undulate your hips, but the resulting shockwaves from the tip meeting that sensitive spot causes you to clench around him.

He freezes, feeling the quickening of your walls and you yelp in surprise when he throws you on the bed. The loss of him inside you feels unfair, but he steps out of his pants and soon crowds your body with his own as he climbs over your body. A firm hand presses into the middle of your upper back, before he grips your hips and pulls them upwards. The dress slides down, revealing your bare backside to him and you feel more than hear the growl he lets out.

He leans against your body, ripping your dress up until you are able to slide the garment off your arms and throw it to the floor. A smack jolts you forward, but he adjusts you back into place. You feel his thumb drag over your slick covered folds, taunting you.

“Alpha!” you whine, and he chuckles before realigning his length to your throbbing core. At this angle, he reaches deeper inside of you, and he begins to rock his hips, thrust after thrust inside you. His large hand grips your chin, turning your head to the side.

“Want to see that pretty face as you cum on my cock, want to hear you cry for me when you take my knot.” His low baritone promises you pleasure beyond your imagination.

He licks up your spine, kissing and nuzzling into your neck, and you know it's the spot he wants to mark you at. You beg him to do it, but he just shakes his head against your skin. “Not yet, my love.”

He kisses you with every thrust he takes, before sitting up more to pin you down to the bed. His movements grow sharp, hands grabbing at your ass cheeks as he pounds into you. Switching up his movements, you can’t believe he fucks so well when he begins to rotate his hips and slips his thumb into your mouth. You suck on it, drool leaking from your mouth onto the sheets as your legs shake.

You clench again, involuntarily spasming every few seconds and you know you’re close—you tell him as much.

“Fuck,” he curses, and you grip the bedsheets as he adjusts his hold on you. His hands move to your hips and he arches your back even more as he speeds up his own movements. They're fluid, your slick making it almost effortless for him to please you, to take you from behind like this until he’s so deep he could feel himself poking through your stomach—

“Take my knot, want you to have my pups, fuck—”he presses his hips flush to your ass, streams of his cum filling you up endlessly as your body wracks with euphoric release. You whine as you feel the intense pressure of his knot filling you before the pain of his marking bite overtakes your senses.

You feel overwhelmed in a good way, pain giving way to pleasure as the bite seals your mated status and his knot begins to slowly deflate. Once able, Namjoon rolls you over to face him, nuzzling into you as you hold him close. Your heat was sated for the time being, but you knew that soon you would be climbing him once again to meet your needs.

You wince as his nose grazes your fresh mark and he makes an apologetic face. Standing up from the bed, he grabs a bottle of water for you, twisting the cap off for you and proffering the drink.

You take a full swallow, quenching the thirst you didn’t realize you had. Heats have a way of making you forget to take care of yourself in that way. The fatigue consumes you, and you drop back down to the bed. Namjoon takes the bottle from you and places it on the side table. His hands massage your calves, working his way along your thighs. His movements could put you to sleep, but you knew as well as he did that this reprieve would not last long. The moon shone through the window casting a faint glowing halo around Namjoon’s head.

He was yours.

In the moon's tender glow, we're born anew,

The night's canvas echoes our ancient call,

Omegas and Betas, to their knees they fall,

For the Alpha, bound by destiny's fate.

To lead, to fight, to protect, to mate,

In lunar hours, gaze upon the sky,

Let Luna's wisdom be your guiding light,

Her soothing touch to mend wounds that cry.

When crescent rises, we shall rise as one,

Aligned with moonrise, our time has begun.

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divinelyparkjimin · 4 months

Text

— bodyguard [m] | knj.

◦ summary ↠ amidst a swirl of emotions sparked by a jealous encounter at a ball, it seems like guarding isn’t the only thing your bodyguard will be doing to your body.

◦ pairing ↠ namjoon x reader

◦ word count ↠ 3.2k

◦ genre ↠ smut, fluff, angst (barely)

◦ content warning(s) ↠ bodyguard au, daddysgirl!reader, bodyguard!namjoon, dom!namjoon, sub!reader, suggestive/explicit content, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), cunnilingus, creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, penetrative sex, ejaculation, f. and m. orgasm

a/n: it has been way too long but i am here :) enjoy!

masterlist

Your legs were glued together, fingers tracing the detailing on your dress as you trembled in the backseat of your dad’s car.

Why did I even agree to this? You couldn’t help but think to yourself.

Your dad was one strong man. Not physically. Not emotionally. But the man’s social status was beyond imagination. Since the man had grown up networking his way to success, he’d wanted you to do the same for yourself, rather than mooch of his own accomplishments. And sure, he could just be looking out for you, protecting you from becoming just another nepo baby out in the world, but you were too nervous for this.

One of the largest networking events in Seoul was to take place in about 30 minutes and you would not be saved from it. In fact, you were on your way there.

Your young, but fairly attractive bodyguard, Namjoon, had offered to take you. While the experience would be shy of a nervous wreckage, you were still relieved he’d be there with you. A single familiar face is better than none.

“You okay?” You were instantly interrupted in the midst of your thoughts. You could see Namjoon’s eyes meet yours in the rearview mirror, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Y-Yeah, sorry, I’m just super nervous about this whole thing.” You heaved a sigh. “How do I know if people will even like me after this? What if I just make a complete fool out of myself?”

You could hear a soft chuckle leave Namjoon’s mouth.

“You’re just overthinking, Y/N. I know you’ll do great.” The boy reassured you with a smile. You returned the smile before turning to your side to see you’d already arrived. The smile on your face quickly faded.

Namjoon got out of the car and scurried over to open your door, assisting you out of the car. Your legs instantly weakened as soon as you stepped out—the nervousness was definitely getting to you.

You stared blankly at Namjoon who was waiting until you’d situated yourself to continue forward. Seeing him out of the car, you gave yourself a moment to take in his appearance. The sleek suit he wore hugged his broad shoulders and emphasized his strong physique, something you never noticed before. His dimples were out as his lips curled upward into a soft smile. You realized you were probably staring at him a little too long and decided to break the silence.

“Sorry, haha, I’m ready to go now.” You straightened out your dress before putting out a thumbs up.

“As you wish, captain.” The boy cheekily nodded before turning to the side with his arm out to direct you ahead.

Upon stepping into the ballroom, you realized how fancy this place truly was. The ballroom unfolded before you like a scene from a fairy tale. Crystal chandeliers dangled from the high ceiling, casting a cascade of golden light that danced upon the polished marble floor. Tables adorned with fine linens and sparkling silverware were strategically placed, surrounded by elegantly dressed guests engaged in animated conversations.

Upon your entry, you were immediately greeted with a bow and offered a glass of wine by a waiter dressed in fully white attire. You took the glass in your hands and made your way to your seat with Namjoon following closely behind.

The echo of your own name disrupted your thoughts as you plopped down into your seat. Startled, you looked up, and there, standing before you, was Taehyung. It took a moment for recognition to dawn, realizing that the familiar face belonged to a boy you used to be really good friends with in your younger days.

Back when you were 7-8 years old, you and Taehyung were inseparable, spending countless hours playing together. However, life took an unexpected turn when Taehyung had to relocate to Switzerland with his dad when you turned 13. The departure, though abrupt, was an inevitable change that left behind fond memories of your shared childhood adventures.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Taehyung said, placing a hand on your exposed shoulder before trailing it down to your lower back. Namjoon’s eyes instantly directed to Taehyung’s hand placement, a hint of sourness becoming apparent on his face.

“It really has, I was starting to think you might’ve died.” You joked, your playful tone cutting through the subtle tension.

“Hey, I wouldn’t die without telling you. We had some pretty great memories back then, you know?” Taehyung reassured you, but your attention was drawn to his lingering gaze, which traversed the entirety of you before settling back on your face. “You look great, by the way.”

“Thanks, I try.” You replied, trying to keep the conversation casual as you subtly shifted away from his lingering touch. The atmosphere held a mixture of nostalgia and the present with Namjoon’s watchful eyes capturing every detail.

“You know, I’m actually back in Seoul again. I’d love to meet with you sometime, maybe not with so many people around.” Taehyung suggested with an eyebrow raised. “You up for it?”

Namjoon cleared his throat, interjecting, “Sorry to bother, but I think Y/N is needed for something.” The interruption carried a hint of possessiveness but the huskiness in his voice was oddly attractive. “I’m sure she can get back to you later.”

“Oh okay, no problem then.” Taehyung seemed disappointed, but complied anyway, moving his eyes to you. “I’ll see you around then?” With two fingers, he flicked outward from his head to signify his parting before walking elsewhere.

Filled with curiosity, you turned to Namjoon. “What’s the thing you said I’m needed for?” The boy’s eyes widened slightly before he began to scrunch his face in a bit of discomfort. “I actually think I might’ve made a mistake with that, I apologize Y/N.”

“Don’t worry about it okay?” You replied. He nodded, unable to make eye contact with you.

Throughout the night you spoke to a variety of different people: people you’d known long ago, people you’d never met, and people you’d only ever think to meet in your dreams. After a long, tiresome night, it was finally time to head back home.

As you made your way towards the car, the air felt charged with an unspoken tension. Namjoon held the car door open, but there was a subtle stiffness in his demeanor. As you slid into the seat, you couldn't ignore the silent discomfort that lingered between you and Namjoon.

During the drive, the atmosphere inside the car was palpably different. Namjoon's usual ease seemed replaced with a quiet reserve. The hum of the engine filled the space between you, accentuating the unspoken tension. It wasn't long before you couldn't resist addressing the shift in the air.

"Namjoon, is everything okay?" You asked, your voice gentle but concerned.

He glanced at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. "Yeah, everything's fine," He replied, but the unease remained evident.

"No, something's off. You've been acting a bit distant," you pressed, your intuition picking up on the subtle changes.

Namjoon hesitated for a moment, then admitted, "It's just... seeing you with Taehyung back there. I couldn't help feeling a bit... jealous."

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, "Jealous? Namjoon, he's just an old friend."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I know, it's irrational. But seeing you with him, it triggered something. I guess I just... care about you more than I thought."

The revelation hung in the air, and as you processed his words, a warmth crept into your chest. "Namjoon, you don't have to be jealous.”

As the car eased into a secluded spot, the quiet darkness enveloping you, you couldn't help but voice the thoughts that had been lingering in your mind. The revelation about Namjoon's jealousy had opened a door, and now it was time to let your feelings be known.

"I have to admit," You began, a playful glint in your eye, "I couldn't help but eye you all night. You looked so good in that suit, and, well, I've always had a bit of an attraction to you, both emotionally and, I can't deny it, physically."

Namjoon's eyes met yours, a mix of surprise and a spark of something else. The air between you shifted again, this time with a newfound acknowledgment of mutual desire

“You mind if I join you back there?” The sudden comment by Namjoon caught you by surprise and you could feel your cheeks grow hot. You nodded your head enthusiastically, moving over to make space for him in the back as he made his way over.

The back door opened and closed behind Namjoon who was now sitting right beside you, his face inches from yours. His intense stare remained connected with yours as you took this time to admire his face. Somehow, he managed to look even better up close. The soft creases into his face where his dimples were became visible as a small grin creeped upon his lips at the sight of you.

He seemed to be growing closer to you, nodding his head as if to ask if he could continue. You nodded back and before you knew it, his lips were on yours. His hand cupped the side of your face, guiding you into a rhythm. The kiss was slow and passionate with a bit of roughness to it.

You both reveled in the sensation as your hands explored each other's forms. Your hand slid down his chest while you slowly pressed the rest of your body closer to him. Your leg was swung over his thigh, his hand gripping it tightly.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Namjoon growled, pulling his face back to admire yours. His face was soon found buried in your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin beside your collarbone. You felt tingles as his tongue wet your skin, sucking harder and harder. He parted from your neck not allowing much time to pass before making contact with your skin yet again.

His hand that was on your thigh slid down your frame to lift your dress up. It was then that you could feel the warmth of his hands on your ass cheeks. He used the tips of his fingers to trace circles into your skin, shooting a stimulating sensation throughout your body. You whimpered out, thrusting your hips against his crotch as if to beg for more.

Soon enough, Namjoon’s hands found their way to the back of your dress, fingertips fixed on your zipper. He pulled it down and helped you remove the dress, eyes glued to your figure. The sultry look in his eyes was enough to leave your panties drenched, something he seemed to have noticed upon the removal of your dress.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Can I touch?” He requested, removing the suit jacket off his own body.

“Yes, please touch me. I need you right now.” You begged, your face scrunched up in ecstasy. Namjoon’s face brightened up at your keenness.

“Mind if I use my tongue? It’s dying to taste you.” His hands seemed to be a step ahead as they were already gripping the band of your panties, quickly pulling them down your legs.

As you were about to respond, Namjoon’s face was already between your legs, his tongue pressing right against your clit. A high pitched moan escaped your mouth at the sudden sense of pleasure that exploded within your body. Without warning, his tongue slid right over your clit yet again, before making tiny circles around the area. He’d tease around the flesh before swiping his tongue against it harder than the last time, leaving you moaning breathlessly.

“F-Fuck!” You screamed out in pleasure, grinding your hips against his tongue to accentuate the feeling. You pressed Namjoon further into your pussy with your hand that was placed at the back of his head, desperately wanting to feel more. He could feel your desperation and only went harder and faster. You could feel the tension slowly building up as you grew closer and closer to your release.

Your head was thrown back in delight and you basked in the overwhelming feeling of pleasure.

“N-Namjoon, f-faster, please!” You could barely manage to get the words out, panting and moaning uncontrollably. Namjoon adhered to your guidance, quickening the pace and pressure of his tongue’s movements along your folds, focusing most of it on your clit. “F-Fuck, I’m close!” You whined, nearing your finish. Responding to your feedback, Namjoon decided to suck hard on your clit, something that seemed to just flip a switch inside of you. Almost instantly, you could feel yourself entirely give out. A profound, pulsating euphoria seemed to course through your veins, rendering you utterly consumed by the sheer bliss that embraced you from head to toe. You came.

“You taste so good, Y/N.” Namjoon pulled back with a huge grin on his face, licking his lips.

“Do I now? So when do I get to taste yours?” You teased.

“You want it?” Namjoon looked down to his own crotch where you could see a boner battling to escape his tight black dress pants. You nodded eagerly, not wasting any time before beginning to unbuckle his belt. Once you were able to get the belt off, you threw it off to the side to continue unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. He slid them off his legs, left with his black boxers on. He hurriedly unbuttoned his dress shirt before nearly ripping it off his body.

With his shirt and pants out of the way, you were able to make out the outline of his shaft. It looked way bigger than you’d imagined, something you can’t help but admit to wondering about in the past. You found yourself near salivating at the pure thought of the man’s length, quickly fixing your hands on the band of his boxers.

“You’re quite the eager one, aren’t you? Why don’t you say please for me first, princess?” The mere usage of the nickname had your stomach erupting with butterflies.

“Please, Namjoon. Let me suck your cock.” Your enchanting eyes seemed to work perfectly on Namjoon as he placed a soft kiss on your lips before letting out a small chuckle.

“You’re such a good girl, Y/N. Go right ahead, it’s all yours.” You pulled down at the band of Namjoon’s boxers, revealing his long, hard cock. It sprung out as soon as the band had fallen below it, as if waiting for your mouth to find its place on it.

As its outline had previously displayed, his manhood was indeed big. It had a slight curve to it and was a rosy shade of pink with veins taking shape along it. After indulging in your moment of admiration, you positioned your face before it, wrapping one of your hands around the bottom of his shaft. You looked up at him before proceeding, noticing the way his lustful eyes followed your every movement.

Wanting to start slow, you stuck your tongue out, gliding it along his hard member. You started with a small area but went back again, licking from the bottom of his balls to the tip. He let out a low grunt as you noticed his cock twitch in excitement. You quickened your pace, watching Namjoon’s face respond to the contact of your tongue.

“You’re so good at this, fuck.” Namjoon moaned, moving a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes were locked on you as he watched you have your way with his cock. After you’d gotten enough of the licking, you decided to go even further, placing your lips atop his throbbing hard-on. You could taste the pre-cum that lightly coated his tip, scaling his cock further into your mouth. You tightened the suction of your lips, bobbing your head up and down to a steady rhythm.

“You know, I never thought I’d get to see your pretty face on my cock.” Namjoon uttered breathily in a low tone. “I’m a lucky guy, aren’t I?” Too caught up in pleasing him to respond, you continued to suck and began stroking his cock at the same time to increase the pleasure. Namjoon was starting to grow close and you went faster, wanting to make him cum faster. Before he could finish, he pulled himself out to which your head turned up to stare at him with a confused look on your face.

“I’d rather save my cum for your pussy. Don’t wanna miss out on seeing you all filled up.” Namjoon placed a kiss on your lips before directing you further. “Lean back and spread those legs out, princess.”

You quietly but swiftly followed his directions.

“You’re on the pill, right?” Namjoon questioned, with a bit more of a serious expression. You nodded, allowing him to proceed. He positioned his crotch in front of yours before slowly inching his dick right into your hole. You moaned loudly upon his entrance, which was followed by several other thrusts.

The thickness of his shaft filled you up entirely, allowing you to feel its every detail and contour against your walls.

“F-Fuck your cock is so b-big!” You whimpered as Namjoon continued to slam his meat faster and deeper into your moist cave, with no sign of slowing down.

“Yeah? Tell me more, Y/N. I wanna hear how good my cock makes you feel.” Namjoon’s alluring tone had you captivated.

“I like how it f-fills me up! A-And how l-long it—aah!” You struggled to get any words out, but tried to remain compliant.

“It does fill you up, huh?” Namjoon smirked as you couldn’t help but moan out. He was relentless with his thrusts, going harder and harder. He didn’t seem to be tiring out whatsoever and was pressing further toward your g-spot with every thrust. The sight of his toned torso and thrusting hips into you was a view you just couldn’t get sick of.

“Fuck, Namjoon!” You screamed out as he slammed his tip against your g-spot. You could feel the contact of the flesh send tingles throughout the rest of your body and could only grow desperate for more. “Please, d-don’t stop, faster!” Your pressing whimpers only motivated Namjoon further. He seemed to really be getting the hang of it as he repeatedly hit your g-spot, helping you rapidly grow even closer to a finish.

“A-Ah, I’m close, Namjoon! I-I don’t think I can hold it!” You whinged as Namjoon thrusted even faster. Your moans grew in pitch and volume as you reached your climax, realizing that Namjoon had also reached his own when you’d felt a warm runny liquid seep out from your core.

You were left panting, as was Namjoon, the two of you left with the giddiest of expressions on your face. As the lingering bliss settled between you and Namjoon, a comfortable silence enveloped the air. He gently placed kisses on your forehead and lips, and despite the intimate moment, a hint of shyness crept in, painting your cheeks a rosy hue.

In the quiet aftermath, Namjoon broke the tranquility with a nervous laugh, his gaze meeting yours

"You don't think your dad will fire me after this or anything, right?"

a/n: unedited but i hope you guys still like! feel free to leave thoughts and comments woo

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566 notes · View notes

lo1k-diamonds · 13 days

Text

SX Seoul series | Namjoon entry 💜 Closer

GIF by namchyoon

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader (You can also read it on AO3)

SUMMARY: Namjoon and you were friends for years — he was your confidant, protector, and haven. You didn’t want to risk it, no matter what, but some things can’t be kept in the dark.

WORD COUNT: 8.2k

GENRE: friends to lovers, smut (it's lovemaking tbh)

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: reader is shy and introverted, mentions of anxiety, being in the dark in an agitated crowd (reader is safe w/ NJ), fear of losing a friendship, porn w/ plot (lovemaking, or my version of it), unprotected sex (wrap it up), dry humping, riding, they're both shy and idiots in love but they make it 💜

A.N. Is this a slow burn? Am I searingly slowly taking you all on the journey that is kissing and feeling Kim Namjoon? Some could say there was no need to describe it in such detail. They would be wrong 💜

Someone called your name and you looked up.

“Come on! Don’t fall behind!”

You gasped mutely and rushed in between the ever-growing crowd to join your friends and coworkers atop the stairs. The line wasn’t too big tonight but you still preferred to stay close to them — no way you wanted to be left alone in a bar street in Itaewon in the middle of the night. You pressed your hands nervously, looking around while your friends laughed about something you didn’t hear. No, you didn’t want that. There could be weird people and drunk people, and you were the designated driver anyway—

“Hey!”

You blinked at Juhyun through your glasses with big wide brown eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

“Come along!” She sighed, extending her hand so you’d grab it, and you did with relief.

You gave your coat at the reception with a polite head bow, following closely after everyone. The noise hit your ribcage with the force of an alarm, making you grin with gritted teeth but you took a deep breath and hurried along. It wasn’t like you never went out, or had never been there before. SX Seoul had become the preferred club of people working in the industry, and so you found yourself with a vibrating ribcage and sweaty hands every once in a while. However, you did get anxious in crowded loud places like bars and clubs. An elbow sank into your side as you followed after Juhyun and despite the person’s apology and head bow, which you returned, you smiled with a hint of tiredness. The night had just begun.

You got set on the couches, saying hi to everyone you knew who was already there, and smoothly offered to help everyone get drinks. That was an easy way for you to get an alcohol-free drink early on and successfully avoid being offered drinks for a long while.

“Look who’s DJying tonight!”

You had sat near Juhyun after handing her a drink and smiled happily, engaging in light conversation.

“Didn’t you write his breakout music video?”

“Yeah, I did!”

You smiled politely, a warm fuzzy feeling settling in your stomach — you might have not liked the constant background house beat that had you all screaming to be heard, but you did feel proud of your work. Of every concept you had written, every storyboard you had designed, and every screening you helped with that led you to where you were now — in a creative atmosphere surrounded by like-minded people who just wanted to bring joy and creativity to the world.

As the night continued, you were more and more comfortable, surrounded by people you knew. You didn’t think it could get better, but as soon as Namjoon arrived, you grinned from ear to ear and chuckled at your silliness.

“Hi everyone!” You instantly scooted over and made space for him to sit beside you and join in the conversation, yet as you tried to keep up, he leaned in, “Driving?”

You turned to him and smiled sheepishly, something he returned with a sweetness of his own. You had been friends forever; he knew the answer to his own question.

“Your hair,” he added.

You blinked then felt for it over your shoulders and chest, trying to see in between psychedelic blinding lights if something had happened to it or something.

“No! Just— It’s loose!”

You blinked again, pressing your glasses up the bridge of your nose, “Well, yeah.”

He smirked briefly, looking down before facing you again with a gentle puff, “It looks good!”

Your lashes batted once before someone asked for his attention, and just in time. You could feel the heat spreading from your chest to your cheeks and turned to sip at your drink seemingly absentmindedly.

He noticed? You didn’t know why it surprised you so much; Namjoon was an attentive friend. Caring too, he always noticed when something was going wrong or a project was difficult. He always offered to help you out, and you did the same. You had that kind of relationship — friendly and supportive. Of course, that didn’t mean he had to notice your hairstyle for tonight. You had just let go of your usual braids to something more casual — just loose over your shoulders. And now there you were, playing with the long hair locks over your chest like your heart wasn’t fluttering at the simplest interaction.

“Hey! Let’s dance!”

You nodded at Juhyun and got up with a smile that crumbled just a little when Namjoon got up too. He scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly smiling at you and Juhyun.

“You don’t mind if I join you, right?”

“Of course not!”

She had answered for you because yet again you were pressing your lips. Namjoon wasn’t half as bad a dancer as he thought he was and you had all danced together before. Had you blushed then as you did now? You wondered as you beelined to the center of the dancefloor; you couldn’t remember. In the end, it didn’t matter. You smiled as you turned to Namjoon in that circle of people just randomly facing each other in turns. It didn’t have to be anything much, you were just having fun. All of you. It was absolutely fine.

He grabbed your hand and wiggled it for you to pivot and move around and you just laughed and did as told because it was fun. And not a big deal if he didn’t do it to the others, they were busy shouting in each other’s ears anyway.

You felt light and didn’t think it could get better than this when all of a sudden everything became pitch black. The music shut down and suddenly all you could hear was your ears ringing annoyingly and people either shouting or wondering a bit louder than usual about what was going on. It took you a couple of seconds to realize that it couldn’t be normal for a club to just abruptly shut down like that, and it was enough for your anxiety to instantly spike and sting your chest. Yet a pair of arms circled you lightening fast, pressing you safely to a firm chest.

Your cheeks were squished against his pectorals and you could hear a heart racing equally to yours under your ear. A question never formed itself, you knew exactly who was hugging you. It was safe now. You hugged him back and closed your eyes, using his body like an anchor to keep your anxiety from releasing you into the rowdy sea.

Namjoon could hear people getting agitated all around you two, making him squeeze you harder against him. People got nervous in situations like those. They could start running for the exit, pushing and stepping over people without a care if the panic was big enough. And as the absence of music and light continued, mere seconds felt like minutes cracking under the pressure as people became agitated.

He knew crowded places made you anxious. That was how you justified the way he was pressing his lips to the top of your head. It made your already racing heart jump with a foreign feeling, which mixed with his musky cologne had you sweating and not out of nervousness.

A louder shout not so far from you startled you into pressing your fingertips into his lower back and he immediately hugged you tighter. His lips brushed the top of your head again but the agitation around you was too loud, making it impossible to discern what he had said. Yet, regardless, you were safe. You could feel people shifting around you, voices becoming louder, and the occasional glimpse from people's phones. A wave of appreciation and gratitude flooded you, flowing over your anxiety and you unglued your cheek from his shirt to tell him.

His lips pressed lightly atop your cheekbone and your breath caught. His nose had tapped against your glasses and you instinctively squinted though you couldn’t see. None of it bothered you though, on the contrary. Your lips parted in surprise, his thumb dragging across your jawline as if to make sure of where you were in the dark.

You forgot about the world around you. You were suspended in the air, in a trance, waiting for what would happen next, and it happened unexpectedly. His forehead touched yours and you closed your eyes, letting him cradle you sweetly. Little did he know that you could feel no anxiousness now, you were a blank page waiting to be written on.

Or maybe he knew. He didn’t force your chin but he did mutter something while his lips brushed your jawline, and you turned your head. Curiosity, it was all it was. Because you hadn’t heard him, but as your skins brushed, your lips caught the subtle hint of something plush and wet for the tiniest of moments.

You became dizzy and gripped his shirt at the end of his back. Was that what you thought it was? Was that—?

All it took was a millimeter for him to give you the hint that you took without hesitation. His lips pressed to the corner of your mouth and you sighed, eyes scrunching with the tension inside your chest. You were no mind and all instinct when you parted your lips further to get more, just a bit more. All you were ready to do was react, so when it felt like he was about to break away, you closed in.

You were incredibly aware of everything that involved Namjoon. The way his long fingers supported your jawline with a feather-like touch, his short hair falling just above his eyes tickling you where it got to your skin around your glasses, the softest touch of his plush lips as even his breath eased, the gentlest breeze caressing your face whenever you tentatively parted and rejoined like waves kissing the shore.

You were aware of everything, and yet when the lights and music came back on, you were helpless. Namjoon straightened up to look around, trying to figure out what was going on, while you were just looking up at him, gripping him still, trying to figure things out on your own. What was that? What—

“Are you okay?” Juhyun asked right behind you and you jumped in place, startled. You let go of Namjoon, and it was he who answered.

“Yeah, we stayed cool. Are you?”

“Yeah, they pushed around a bit though, geez,” she complained, running a hand through her hair. “What do you think happened?”

“Good question, I don’t know.”

You didn’t hear anything anymore, you were just staring up at him as he talked. Good question. You had no idea either. What happened? Did you really just kiss—

“Listen, if you’re bummed out, that’s okay,” Juhyun shouted above the music, pressing your arm gently. She looked concerned and you tried a smile.

You could guess you looked as befuddled as you felt, “Yeah, I kind of— But I’m your driver!” You shouted instead, remembering your responsibility with a firm shake of your head.

“It’s okay, we’ll catch a taxi!” She shouted with a nod. She knew you were usually anxious; something unnerving like that was surely too much for you. “I’m just worried about you going alone!”

“I’ll go with her,” Namjoon nodded, unwavering, and before you got to say something, Juhyun agreed.

“Take care, text me when you’re home,” she asked you, squeezing your hand once.

You were frowning, about to suggest staying a bit more so you could take her home too when a firmer hand replaced hers. Namjoon returned your gaze, said a quick goodbye with a wave to everyone else, and then pulled you behind him as he made your way out.

Your mind slowly got back on track with every step you took. His hand was firmly wrapped around yours, and despite his wide shoulders in front of you, sheltering you from the chaos, your anxiety guided your thoughts back to the surface with a forced gasp.

What were you doing? Maybe this would turn awkward. You and Namjoon had been good friends for years, you had always counted on him. Maybe that was a mistake, maybe he would be uncomfortable around you now. You didn’t want things to change, you didn’t want to lose his joyful grins, relaxing bicycle rides, and long quiet reading sessions back at his place.

You bowed as you took your coat at the reception and put it on before stepping out into the cold. He was no longer holding your hand, which was holding the coat’s collar to your neck instead. You swallowed and looked down, freezing atop the stairs while you ran by the options and he stepped down ahead of you. You don’t have to leave earlier because of me. I can get home safely by myself. I’m sorry if that was awkward, I—

“Where’s your car?”

You sucked in a breath and told him before turning to walk intently as quickly as possible. The cold was rough on your cheeks, despite the big round lenses of your glasses. You gritted your teeth not to quiver as you stepped carefully over the slippery sidewalk.

When you got to your car, you got in quickly and turned it on to give it time to warm up a bit. Namjoon had followed you inside in silence and was so quiet that his presence could have been buried under your anxiety.

You brushed your flushed cheeks and tried pulling your long hair free, realizing it was trapped between your blouse and the coat. You were so used to having braids that you forgot you needed to tend to your hair properly whenever you put your coat on and now you were stiff and stuck and—

“Easy,” he rasped, reaching to help you and you froze. You glanced up at him and stayed still as he alleviated the tension of the fabric over your shoulders to gently pull your hair out before leaning to repeat the same action on the other side. By then your eyes had lowered to his hands. The way he was handling your dark threads of hair as if it was the most precious silk, worthy of care and attention. “There.”

Your eyes jumped up in time to see him leaning back, a perfectly blank expression making your chest pang in nervousness. You were overthinking again.

“Thanks!” You squeaked, clearing your voice immediately as you leaned forward to reach the GPS screen, “Now, to Joonie’s…”

The drive was easier than you thought it would be. He commented on the cold, and then on what happened at the bar. He had never seen something like that at a bar, only at festivals or concerts. He wondered if the whole street had a power outage or if it was just that room. You mused that if it had been more than just the room, you’d surely hear about it in the news.

And just like that the car became quiet. Seoul always had traffic, even at 2:52 AM, it was nothing new. So while you comfortably focused on taking him home safely, your thoughts wandered elsewhere.

His lips were the softest thing you had ever touched in your life. Just the delicateness with which you had kissed, you didn’t think you had it in you. Weren’t kisses supposed to be messy? Powerful and passionate? Then how had you touched the pillowy clouds above?

Just remembering it had your guts burning in excitement, and you pressed your lips. Were you making any sense? But you had really done that; hiddenly in the dark, yes, but really. You had acted on your instinct for the first time and gotten a glimpse of the sky.

You wondered why now. Your friendship was old and comfortable, and he had always been a gentleman, protective but never overbearing. You thought he saw you as a colleague initially and then a friend with similar tastes. You pressed your lips right as you stopped the car in front of his apartment building. One glance at him and you knew that was the same old Namjoon you were used to. Maybe you had dreamed it. Maybe it was supposed to stay a dream.

“Would you like to come up?”

Your eyes jumped and widened, the shock as evident in your expression as a blinking billboard sign.

“I finished the new Murakami,” he continued swiftly, “so you can take it if you want. Or any other book.”

Your lips instantly twitched into a smile, “You finally finished it, then.”

He smirked as you turned off the engine and reached to get your bag, “Finally. You know how I am with his books.”

You nodded and got out of the car, the negative temperature clashing with your blushing cheeks. Yet you only smiled, locked the car, and teased him while you both went inside. Even the ride up the elevator was lighter; you two were back to your eased friendship where you got to poke fun at his annoyance with the repetitiveness of Murakami’s plotlines while enjoying every other detailed introspection he had to offer.

So when you passed the threshold of his apartment, you were as always. You both got your shoes off, though you kept your coat because you weren’t going to stay long. He offered you a drink despite you insisting that it was a quick visit, and as he disappeared into the kitchen to see what he could offer, you beelined to his reading corner.

That space always brought a smile to your face and comfort to your heart. That corner of the living room had a bookshelf from floor to ceiling separated by squared compartments that combined books and small plant pots in a myriad of colors. His most cherished one, however, was the bonsai on the small table next to the gray reading chair and ottoman. He'd let you take up the chair whenever you would read or work at his place, with him preferring the couch so he could stretch his legs more comfortably. You preferred the reading chair because the setting was a mood changer for you and you could use the different shelves to place your open books, especially when designing or writing ideas. Each square was organized in a particular way: some by authors, others by category, or type of work.

“I don’t have much,” you could hear him returning to you. “But I can make tea.”

You shook your head while you crouched, taking a look at your favorite section, “It’s okay, I won’t stay long. Where’s the Murakami?”

“Right here,” his voice sounded from above your head, and you glanced up to see him towering over you, reaching for the book lying by the ledge on the appropriate shelf. He eyed you and you smirked, pushing your glasses up your nose bridge before looking back down. The corners of his lips twitched as he gripped the book inside his hands; he knew you were just happily skimming through your favorite shelf, and that wasn’t the issue. You weren’t the issue, you were— He took a deep shaky breath, “Oh, right, I have another one.”

He placed the Murakami book on the small table and left your side in the direction of his bedroom, you noticed. You pressed your lips and got up, grabbing the book he was holding just now. Blood was rushing to your cheeks and you took a short breath to ease yourself. You were there just to grab that book. You were alone at Namjoon’s, and that had happened hundreds of times before. Not that you had ever kissed before, but you could be cool. It was in the dark anyway. Conceptually, if you were thinking of the outline of a music video, that meant it was a secret. You could keep a secret. You could pretend it never happened.

Overhearing his steps pulled you from the depths of your thoughts to check what he had in his hands.

“Here,” he grinned, showing it to you.

It was a book and you gasped before you grabbed it. The cover had the digital drawing of a little girl on her bed, not lying down, but facing the wall behind her that had become an ocean with sparkling rays floating above. The title read, ‘Windows to Worlds: The Art of Devin Elle Kurtz’. You thought the name rang a bell as you opened and skimmed through it.

“I thought of you,” he smiled, dimples sinking sweetly into his cheeks at your interested demeanor.

“Woah, her use of color and lighting looks absolutely astounding,” you breathed, alternating between gasping and stopping your breath altogether with each new page.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“But why did you get it?” You finally caught up, looking up at him. “Because I was struggling with lighting?”

Your tone was appreciative and almost savvy as if you knew you had guessed his intent correctly. Yet he shook his head once, “Because of the braids.”

You lowered your eyes to the cover again and indeed, the little girl had two braids, much like you usually sported. You smiled, “Do you think she has glasses too?”

“Maybe,” he acceded, nodding with ease.

You looked back down at the cover — the girl had her palms against the glass as if she was staring into a new magical world. It brought warmth to your chest. Not just because it was beautiful or because it was going to help you, but because Namjoon saw some of it in you.

You pressed the books to your chest, facing him to thank him when your smile fell. His expression had lost some of its casualness and you were immediately flooded with apprehension.

“Are we going to talk about it?”

His tone was so gentle it brought tears to your eyes. It was Namjoon. All of it, all of your doubts and anxiety were about one of the most important people in your life. Who cared how you might have felt; you absolutely could not jeopardize your friendship.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed so sincerely your voice shook.

“Oh.”

“I… It was…”

Your gaze was on the floor around his feet on the white carpet as you tried to find words. You half expected him to move or make things less awkward with his spirited humor, but he waited.

So you said what came to mind, “An accident. Right? It was an accident,” you repeated, ignoring the heat making your glasses fog ever so slightly. “It was dark and…”

You sucked in a breath and pushed your glasses up your nose bridge to soothe yourself, and froze when he nodded slowly.

“I… can’t call it an accident.”

Your eyes widened impossibly, “But— But then— I mean,” you blinked, “that would mean…”

You were just stammering and he smiled, “Yes. I don’t just— I wouldn’t just—” He smirked, scratching the back of his head, “I’d be lying if I said—”

His voice got caught inside his throat. You were looking up at him with eyes so big he feared they’d pop or something. He thought he was ready to talk about it and get it out in the open but— Were you even breathing?

“You know what? Never mind,” he shrugged, with a smile that pressed his plush lips too thin.

Your eyes widened even more, “No—” You almost choked from your impulse and instinctively stepped back, and everything went dark.

You held your breath as if you had been caught in a trap. You could have been back at the club, but there was no crowd, no fear, and no pressure. There was light still shining from his bedroom, reassuringly outlining his silhouette. You were safe, just like then. And it formed the words out of your mouth.

“I can't call it an accident either,” you confessed, and instantly your shoulders relaxed. He didn’t move and you couldn’t see him, but you knew him. You knew of his presence and the way he would never judge or hurt you. “I kissed you back.”

The silence continued between you but you found comfort in it. It was as though you had time to process, to put yourself back in your shoes moments earlier when exactly like that, in the dark, you let something from deep within surface.

“I was… curious,” you voiced quietly.

“Curious?”

“What would you… feel like? How would you…” you were getting lost and closed your eyes. You could almost feel him again, his warmth, his scent, the firmness of his arms around you, helping you levitate safely into the clouds. Your eyes opened at the sound of a footstep and you instantly flushed, “I mean, I— I’m sorry, I—”

“No, don't say sorry.” His outline drew closer until he stopped right in front of you. “You were curious about that?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Why was your heart racing so fast? You were so hot that you knew for a fact your glasses were fogging, despite not being able to see it. You swallowed and fanned your face a little, self-conscious about your hands becoming sweaty and dirtying the books.

Yet as you tried to calm down, you realized silence was stretching. He was waiting, of course, gentlemanly as he was. And you were embarrassed but in the dark, you also wanted to be brave.

“I liked it.”

You leave it there, your sincere answer to his question. Your heart was thrumming wildly but you were not half as nervous as you thought you’d be.

“I liked it too.”

Your breath caught as you looked up despite barely seeing a silhouette. What?

“Would you do it again?”

“Now?” Your voice pitched.

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Your tone was inquisitive, but it was more out of shock that he said yes. You were heating up so much you didn’t think you were processing thoughts logically, and you weren’t. Your head was blank, “Yes.”

It felt like an eternity, but you knew that wasn’t true. You were just too eager to see what happened next, to feel him again and check if your head would be caught spinning as you floated away to the clouds again.

The books in your hands disappeared quickly, only the sound of them hitting the table told you their fate, and not that you cared. His breath was fanning your face and your head instantly fell back, tapping the wall as your lips parted and you waited for what you wanted most.

When it didn’t instantly come, you had no issues soothing his hesitation by guiding his hands to your jaw. You wanted him to know where you were; exactly there, between the wall and his safe embrace, waiting.

Finally, his breath was so close it fully stopped when your lips locked together in a feather-like touch, and you moved. You pressed yourself closer, brushing his lips so you’d match completely. Your mouth dove into a sweeter taste, fingers tracing up his neck tentatively to grasp that feeling. And he let you, falling in with you, leaning into you as far as you’d let him.

Your lips parted in an invitation that he took promptly, leaving a wet trace on your bottom lip before he committed. You sighed into his mouth, gripping his shirt to pull him closer. He could reach into you and all around you; you were falling. There was an expanse behind and all around you and it reminded you of free falling; it was probably what skydiving felt like. Only you weren’t nearing the ground but going further from it. That sky was about to catch you; a sweet, soft, endearing sky about to clasp you affectionately and carry you into a dream.

You only stopped because he pulled back, kissing the tip of your nose before pressing his lips to your cheek. It was when you noticed that you two fit together like puzzle pieces, with your fingers buried in the nape of his neck, his into your lower back, your breaths mixing as your legs intertwined.

His breath was heavy against your warm cheek, “This can stay here. In the dark. If you want.”

You were too far to recognize the concern in his voice, “Is that what you want?”

“No,” his reply was instant, a subtle shake of his head as his lips dragged over your heated skin. “No, I'm curious about way more than this.”

You opened your eyes, eager to see in him what he meant, but the darkness hid his expression. It protected you, yes, but now, it made you uneasy. There was a moment when it had soothed your fears, maybe even made you brave, but now it was enough.

“Would turning the light on bother you?”

You felt his smile before he pulled away, “Not at all.”

His hands were still supporting your waist as you felt the wall behind you until you flipped the switch. You shut your eyes instantly with a grimace and knew he had done the same.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

You couldn’t see it, but he smirked, “I told you you could.”

His eyes opened first, eager to bypass the sudden sensibility so he could look at you as soon as possible. Your eyes and nose were still scrunched, your glasses had fallen lower on your nose than you liked normally, and the top of your cheeks was beautifully blushed. He didn’t resist cupping your cheek to brush his thumb over the red hue and your eyes opened, looking up at him over your glasses. You were so close to each other but you couldn’t look or move away.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, eyes set on yours as if he was seeing stars.

“How can you see anything, we’re so close,” you whined with a huff.

He chuckled, “Yeah?”

You pouted; your glasses were falling down your nose bridge again, and he grinned. He was so unbelievably happy right now, and as you pressed the glasses further up, he wished it would never end.

“Is it…” you were quiet, “better like this?”

“Much better,” he assured confidently, looking into your eyes intently.

Every time you blinked, wherever you glanced, he kept his cool and tried holding his fear in check — what if you suddenly pushed him away, became uneasy, or regretted this?

Yet your eyes fixed on his as your hand returned gently to the side of his neck, “You said… you’re curious about more?”

He couldn’t breathe, “Yes.”

“What… does that mean?”

Your voice was a thread and he swore he became dizzy, “You. I—” His lips twitched as he found words, “I want to be with you.”

He settled on that simple fact and shushed his racing heart. It was too soon to confess how long he had been thinking about this, how far he had fallen, and how deeply sure he was that there was no one else he wanted. Nowhere else he wanted to go, no other person who could be home, no other soul he wanted to share his time with. Shit, this was not the time for a love confession.

“Not in the dark,” you mused, thinking back. “But here,” you searched his eyes with a light line between your eyebrows. “Do you want that? To be… a moment of—”

“No,” he interrupted firmly, making sure that every point you touched each other conveyed that. “I want more than a moment, than one night, than a place, than— No,” he breathed. “I want so much more.”

You weren’t sure there was any reaction you could have given because you were floating again. His arms were around you, his mouth speaking words you had long wished to hear, and you waited. It felt like the right thing to do; you just waited for him to become so much more.

“And you?” He asked after waiting to hear your thoughts. “Where would you take this?”

You almost choked with your instant answer, “All the way.”

His eyebrows jumped before his expression scrunched into a rapturous smile, and you filled your chest with air. You needed it, you needed a big deep breath before the dive. When his forehead touched yours, you stayed close, eyes half-hooding, waiting, and ready. You had been ready for a while, all there was left to do now was fly.

You were waiting for his kiss when he grabbed your head, both of you eager and gentle in your grip on the other. His lips were as soft as before but now he was pressing harder, searching for something in the depths of your kiss, and you met him halfway. There was the passion you had thought of before, making your skin pucker as your breathing dragged. It was curious how you were so focused on every little detail of his — his jawline moving under your fingertips, the soft skin at the column of his neck, his wide shoulders where your arms found support to press him closer to you — but had no actual thoughts. Every brush of his lips had you sinking further, every lick of his tongue had you immersed until his hands were pulling you to him and barely letting you touch the ground.

When your feet did touch the ground you lost your balance a little and inadvertently fell into him, which had him feeling behind him to make sure he could sit down. Your lips parted and he looked up at you, hands supportive but not pressuring you. He waited for you to decide if you’d follow him or not, and you didn’t hesitate. You raised a knee to his outer thigh and he instantly supported it, helping you to straddle him effortlessly before he leaned back into the reading chair.

You towered over him a little bit and as he hugged you close, you couldn’t help remembering how many times you had sat in that same chair just to read. Now he was there with you, under you, kissing your neck gently, and you kissed his head with the excitement bubbling under your skin. This was really happening, you could barely contain yourself.

He pressed you to sit closer to him and you guided him to look up just so you could dive into his kiss again. His skin was so soft, his touch so gentle as he let you steer your mouths until your head started spinning. You went deeper with every kiss, and with every sparkle, you became daring. Your fingers laced around his hair, your breaths one and the same as your hips moved on their own accord to fuse you two into one in any way possible. Your instinct was taking over, regardless of how you ground against him or leaned into him as if it would merge you two together.

You were hot and breathless when you felt a hint of his fingertips brushing the skin at your lower back, and instinctively you pulled back. He looked up at you, instantly wary of mistakenly crossing a line, but in a rustle of clothes, your blouse went up and away, thrown on the floor.

You faced him then, the goosebumps forming on your skin wherever his fingertips brushed your back as you seemed to exude heat. Not even for a moment did you wonder if you were going too far, despite being in a bra only in front of him. Rather you eyed his shirt and pouted, and he got it; in a second it was gone too.

Your lips twitched as you stroked down his neck, over his clavicles, and to his wide shoulders. You knew he’d be perfect, you knew you’d go well beyond liking every inch of him, but reality was far sweeter than your imagination. Before you could lean in and kiss every inch, he beat you to it. His pillowy lips grazed over the expanse of your neck before lowering down your chest and you sank your nails on his shoulders. It was the lightness of his touch, the warmth of his breath contrasting with his tongue as he explored everything until he dared lower. He moved slowly, maybe hesitated, and your hand darting to the back of his head to support him eased him.

He kissed and nuzzled every inch of your chest then settled over your sternum, breathing you in between your breasts just above the center gore. You knew why he stopped, but you were riding the shivers and throbs his every breath drew out of you, and you didn’t want it to stop. You reached behind you and unclasped the bra, letting the straps slide off your arms while you held his gaze. Yes, you wanted to do this. Yes, you wanted him to touch you, to know how he—

His hands over your waist raised to cup your breasts and rub your nipples and you shivered, goosebumps covering you from head to toe. The more he brushed over the hardened tips, the less control you had over a deep whine wanting to escape your lips.

You were biting your lip in this sweet struggle when he glanced up at you before leaning in to take one inside his mouth, and you whined. Your hips bucked over him, drawing closer while your cries grew and expanded with every lick of his tongue. You were grinding hard on him now, unaware of how unruly you were being. Your cries just needed to be heard, your hunger satiated as you searched for friction and wondered why it wasn’t as intense as it should be.

Your chest was wet by the time he parted his mouth from the delicate skin, but you didn’t have time to think about it. His hands gripped your hips to press you closer, and you jumped out of his arms in a mix of outrage and eagerness.

So that was why you couldn’t feel him properly, you concluded, as you unbuttoned your jeans. Of course, how stupid. At least it was easily fixed.

You only stopped when your clothes hit the floor. His eyes locked with yours and you hesitated. You were totally naked in your eagerness, maybe you were going too fast. But his hands guiding yours to his shoulders before he leaned in to kiss over your tummy made you realize you were being silly. His eyes were glistening, looking up at you before closing to enjoy the taste of your skin, his cheeks were red, and despite his pants, the tent was very visible.

You wanted to be close so you raised your knee again, and once more he guided you to straddle him. He kissed quickly up your chest before eying your mouth, and you obliged. Kissing him like this was more vulnerable, open, and raw, but you wanted to. His fingertips stroked your sides softly downwards and you sighed into his mouth, gripping him closer. You wanted so much more.

His hands settled atop your hips and it made you whine and wiggle so they would move. It didn’t occur to you to separate your mouths and tell him to touch you; in fact, no thoughts were occurring to you. He seemed to hesitate on where to go while palming your hips, and in the end, it was your hand that guided him to where you wanted him. You froze amidst your kiss, mouth agape as your eyes opened when his fingers skimmed your sex. A shiver ran down your spine, your breath halting as you waited for him. His eyes were set on you, carefully taking in your expression as he dared to brush lower, exploring down your mound, around your hooded clit, and gently over your folds before retracing his steps.

A strangled quiet moan had you closing your eyes to get lost. His fingers were drawing circles over your clit, ever so gently, prodding how to please you without hurting you, and you sank your nails into the back of his neck. You could worship that man now — it was all you knew as you looked at him between half-hooded eyes. Every circle brought a spark, a throb, a buck of your hips until the tension inside you made you jump away from his touch. You kissed him hard then, grabbing his head desperately — you wanted him, not just his hand.

You reached between your bodies to cup his bulge and he choked in your kiss. You pressed harder, too curious to let him breathe or get away, and searched for a way to open his pants, but it was difficult without looking. Fortunately, it understood perfectly what you wanted and got to it.

He raised you off his lap for the single moment it took him to squirm and slide his clothes down his legs before settling you over him again. His skin was burning hot against your inner thighs and as you kissed him, you imagined it was because he wanted you the same way.

You reached again for him and this time there were no barriers. You felt his hard length gently, caressing its soft skin carefully before stroking him against your palm.

He grunted into your cheek; your lips had parted so you could both focus on those new sensations. Something wet was making it easier to stroke him and press the head gently, with every movement earning you something, whether a groan, a sigh, a twitch of his fingers over your hips, or more precum.

You loved seeing and hearing every reaction, but you didn’t want to wait. You were tense and overheating, and that hard cock in your hand belonged somewhere else.

You moved on your knees to straddle him closer, positioning yourself with nothing but the intention to feel him, but you paused. Before the sight of the pink swollen tip at your entrance could steal your logic, you looked at him with an implied question. He nodded with glistening eyes, hands gripping a bit more of your ass to convey just how much he wanted this. And so you leaned to touch your foreheads before you guided him inside you.

You were unbelievably wet but still, it took a moment for him to become coated enough to slide in without any attrition. It felt like a trial and error; every time you tried sitting lower, there was resistance, and so you raised yourself and tried again. And again and again, with his fingers sinking into your skin as he hid his scrunched-up expression. Your eyebrows were knitted too, especially when he hit a particular spot, and soon he bottomed out.

You wiggled a little to make room, your tension gripping him inside you so hard that both of you groaned. You bucked your hips over him and sighed before reaching back, taking support on his hips. The hunger in his glistening eyes as he observed you taking your pleasure from him was like straight out of a dream, except he was really there, stretching you to the edge, bubbling a tension up your spine so good you knew you wouldn’t last a minute.

So you leaned forward again, palming the expanse of his chest as you let the fluttering subside for a bit. A smile bloomed on your lips as he reached to kiss your skin, supporting you closely while he grazed up your neck. Yet as it had blossomed, your smile faded when your eyebrows knitted further and your pleasure sunk in your gut. He had taken a firmer grip of you and used his leverage to thrust his hips up and into you, successfully crumbling whatever excuse of a restraint you had.

You moaned unreservedly and as he pulled away to face you without relenting, you met him with glistening eyes. It wasn’t a betrayal but because of him, you couldn’t hold back. He understood; he told you with a nod as he tried keeping the rhythm steady for you. So you hugged him to you and let the pleasure spike once, twice, until a moan burst out of you with the knot in your lower gut releasing the tension.

However long it lasted, it was long. It left you powerless and radiating heat like a furnace, only he was even hotter than you. He was sweaty under your arms and legs as you embraced him, and it mixed with your wetness and cum, but you didn’t care.

He waited for you to pull away and kiss his humid forehead before he asked, “Can I take you to bed?”

“Yes,” you sighed, still up high in your haze.

He could tell how languid you were so he picked you up carefully, hugging your legs around his waist and supporting your lower back. His heart was racing as he carried you, not because he was afraid of dropping you — no way in hell that would ever happen — but because this was really happening. He was really carrying your naked body across his apartment, your sweaty bodies pressed together after you reached your pleasure in his arms only for him to take you to bed and continue to show you how much he cared for you. He sighted the bed when your limbs squeezed him more firmly and he smiled from ear to ear. It was like carrying a koala bear who didn’t want to let go of him, and he loved that.

He sat on the bed with you on his lap before carefully supporting your back so he could lay you down gently while hovering over you and you finally blinked.

Your senses were coming back; Namjoon was over you, caging you between his biceps while your legs laced around him. He was inside you, and even if you had forgotten, he reminded you when he moved tentatively. Your eyes were set on his, and that was how you saw the concern crossing them, and you blinked again. You and him were connected like you had only ever dreamed, and it was good. You reached to cup his cheeks and guide his mouth to yours; you wanted him to know that. That you knew what you were doing, with whom, and how, and your heart was completely in it.

If he wasn’t kissing your lips, then he was pecking the tip of your nose, grazing your cheeks, or brushing down the column of your neck as his hips gained speed. You raised yours to feel him as deep as possible, and as you held onto him, you let the emotions flood you. The safety of his arms, the completeness as he filled up all the gaps, the nurture of every tender kiss, the shared warmth, tension, and torture of your bodies rocking together. You were meshed inextricably in an ascent that you had never dared to imagine, and you grabbed him even harder, in case the intensity had you floating away.

Your voice had a life of its own; every time he sank further into you, your soul expanded. Every time he buried himself inside you, your moan released into his ear, and over and over again as he hid in your neck, revering you in all the ways he could.

“You feel so good,” he rasped against your throat, and against all odds you heard it in between moans. Maybe because he was slowing down. He pulled away to face you so closely you saw him blurred despite your glasses, “I don't want it to end.”

Your eyes widened and watered but no words came out in time; he pressed your lips sweetly and you buried your fingers in his hair, feeling your heart swelling with every beat. He restarted his hips, guided by your legs pressing him into you, and you thought that nothing else mattered than him knowing. You also didn’t want it to end, you wanted to stay with him forever, linked, safe, accepted, hidden from anything that wasn’t blissful peace, and happiness.

His hips snapping into yours brought groans, moans, and whines out of the both of you, with wet sloppy sounds echoing in the bedroom along with the slaps of skins colliding. It became fast, forcing you to wrap your limbs around him firmly to never miss any sensation he could give you until you tensed unbelievably.

You surrendered to your climax immediately, letting it wash over you as you throbbed and reveled in scream-inducing spasms. He grunted and swore into your neck, but to your surprise, he didn’t come with you. On the contrary, suddenly you could feel his intent to pull out so you crossed your legs behind him and searched for his ear so you could tell him, “Inside me. Stay inside me.”

He groaned and you rocked with him, keen on extending both your pleasure as much as possible when he twitched inside you. You closed your eyes and his lips immediately caught yours. He kissed you with every peak, groaning into your mouth at every turn, making you shudder.

He stilled and you kept petting his damp hair at the back of his head, slowly waiting for both your hearts to calm down. You couldn’t believe what just happened yet at the same time it felt as natural as breathing.

Finally, he moved from the crook of your neck and faced you. A single drop of sweat dripped along his nose to the tip and you caught it with your fingertip. He nuzzled you then, recovering his breath with a tender smile, and you smiled back.

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kpopfanfictrash · 1 year

Text

Not Another Holiday Romance (Teaser)

Posting Date: Saturday, December 24th at 6:00 PM EST

Part of: the Snow Falls Collaboration with @underthejoon and @suga-kookiemonster

Genre: Director!Y/N, Town Historian!Namjoon, One Night Stand!AU

Author's Note: This story will be told in alternating viewpoints between Y/N and Namjoon.

Synopsis: You, a perpetually alone (and utterly cynical) movie director, are sent to the town of Snow Falls, Middle-of-Nowhere for your latest film assignment. Stuck in holiday hell until the new year, you’re determined to get in and get out with minimal damage to your Grinch reputation. That is, until a ridiculously gorgeous (and young?!) town historian is assigned to help with your film. Suddenly, you find yourself the heroine of one of those corny romances you direct – and are discovering they might not be so corny after all.

Estimated WC (Total): 30K

Rating: 18+

Preview WC: 2,021

“But I don’t care what they think,” insists Matt, stepping closer. “I’ve spent my entire life hearing about what I should and shouldn’t do and right now, I don’t care about any of it. I care about you. On Easter,” he adds, blonde hair shining underneath the bright lights.

Bunny – because yes, the character’s real name is Bunny – smiles up at Matt, blinking away tears. Except – hang on. No. Bunny is actually crying, which isn’t in the script.

Exhaling loudly, you push yourself to stand. “CUT!” you call, ignoring the groans from the crew. “Amber, the script says, ‘eyes glistening,’ not full-on waterfalls. Matt’s telling you he wants you, not going off to war. Let’s do it again!”

Dropping her dewy expression, Amber Carmichael (the actress cast as Bunny) turns, squinting against the lights. “You sure?” she calls, raising a hand to her brow. “I thought it added something to the moment! You know, like catharsis.”

“The only thing it added,” grumbles Matt – both the name of the actor and character, “was confusion.”

Ignoring him, Amber flips long, dark hair over one shoulder. “Alright,” she says, unconcerned. “Let’s go again!”

Trying not to sigh, you sit down in your chair. Hiding laughter, your assistant director, Abby, ducks behind her green binder.

“This is gold,” she murmurs as the crew resets. “If this movie weren’t already terrible, Amber’s acting would get it there.”

“And why does that make you cheerful?” you ask. “I’m the director and you’re the assistant director. Our names are tied to this.”

Shrugging, Abby flips a few pages. “Hey, I enjoy my job. We’re making content for people who just want to relax after dinner. An important job which keeps 74.6% of bored housewives from killing their husbands. It’s true – look it up.”

You, of course, do not bother to look it up because Abby is known for making up statistics to suit her purpose. Most are rooted in a semblance of truth though, and you know that people watch Mallhark – your employer – for a reason. Basic escapism if nothing else.

You just aren’t sure an Easter romcom was what they had in mind.

Matt and Amber are currently acting before a greenscreen, the rolling green hills to be added in later. Abby might see this as glass half-full but from where you’re sitting, things look pretty dismal. The main character of your movie is named Bunny, for crying out loud.

Once upon a time, when you were first promoted to director and tasked by Mallhark to make the holidays magical, you took great pride in your work. You stayed up until morning making edits, pouring over screen tests, and searching for locations but lately, you can barely drag yourself to set. Lately, everything has felt stale, and you aren’t sure how to recapture the magic for yourself, let alone someone else.

Pulling your lower lip between teeth, you shove this aside to concentrate on the moment. Magic or not, you need to finish this film today. Your flight out of here is tonight and Mallhark doesn’t take kindly to schedule delays.

“All set?” you yell, waiting for the crew to respond. Once they do, you nod. “Okay. Three… two… one…” You signal to start, settling back in your seat.

Brian, your main camera operator, zooms in to frame the shot. A second operator, Siying, works a hand-held for close-ups. Everyone on set feeds off one another – one of the few things you still appreciate about movie making. Even the cheesiest, cheapest films necessitate a tremendous crew.

Amber and Matt start their scene from the top, with Amber perched on a rock to stare at the (fake) sunset.

“BUNNY!”

Matt runs into frame, startling Bunny into falling sideways, nearly into his lap. The two confess, laying their insecurities out between them. Like a grocery list, Bunny rattles off her fear of commitment, of abandonment and Matt wholeheartedly accepts her as her leading man.

Watching this, you feel a slight twinge in your chest. It’d be nice if real life could be that simple. In your experience though, men tend to run the moment flaws are unearthed.

“I care about you. On Easter,” Matt blurts, ending his monologue.

Bunny stares up at him, starry-eyed. You have to hand it to Matt – as a Mallhark veteran, he really knows his stuff. Cheating his angles, he gives the camera crew the shot they need while continuing to gaze into Bunny’s eyes.

Amber isn’t quite as good, staring back with her lips parted. Maybe it wouldn’t seem so provocative if she hadn’t just come from amateur porn. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but the angles and facial expressions are wildly different here on Mallhark.

Abby must be thinking the same since you catch her scribbling a note in her binder. Possibly edit out porn sigh during ending?

“Oh, Matt,” Bunny says. “I love you.”

“And I love you, Bunny.” Matt gathers her to him, and you close your eyes to brace yourself for the next bit of dialogue. “I’m hop-lessly in love with you.”

The two of them laugh, only sounding slightly strained, which is the best you can hope for. Matt presses his lips to Bunny’s, and you wait an appropriate time before you yell cut.

“That’s it!” you call, standing from your chair. “Thanks, folks!”

Amber and Matt break apart, the crew loudly applauding the successful take. Sagging in your seat, you hear Abby close her binder with a snap.

“So,” she declares. “That was fun.”

Rather than respond, you lower your head and start to rub your temples.

Abby makes a tsking noise. “You’re becoming cynical, Y/N. How can you not love this channel? Come on, think about it – the meet cutes! The banter! The romance! The bunnies!”

“I’m allergic to rabbits,” you mutter.

“Huh.” Abby tilts her head. “Well, bad luck getting assigned to the Easter movie, then.”

“And besides,” you exhale, looking up. “Let’s call a spade a spade, Abby. We’re not solving world hunger. These movies are thinly veiled Christian propaganda that’s being spoon-fed to the viewer. I’m surprised we don’t do blatant product placement, too. Really lean into the consumerist angle.”

“Damn.” Abby snorts. “Who spit in your peppermint mocha this morning?”

“And that’s another thing,” you gripe, jiggling your empty cup. “This mocha was terrible! I should be at least able to taste coffee, right?”

“Depends. Most people who order peppermint mochas just want the chocolate.”

“Ugh. I’m sorry,” you sigh, knowing you’re being unfair. “I’m just in a crappy mood today.”

“You’ve been in a crappy mood for a week,” Abby says, standing from her chair. Stretching both arms overhead, she leans side to side. “Don’t shoot the messenger, but as your best friend I feel obligated to let you know.”

Stomach sinking, you follow her lead and stand. Abby is right. You’ve been generally terrible to be around, and it isn’t her fault. Trailing her throughout the set, you wave goodbye to the crew on your way to the door.

Normally, you’d stay and help clean, but time is of the essence if you want to make your flight. Mallhark, in true capitalist fashion, has scheduled your films back-to-back. You’re even missing the wrap party, which tends to be a trainwreck but in the fun kind of way.

“I know,” you sigh, pushing open a door. “The worst part is I don’t have any right to be a grump. I mean, I have a good job. I’m directing, which is what I want to do. I have a nice place to live. I have food on the table, I have friends –”

“Friend,” Abby corrects, then waves a hand. “Continue.”

Your glare at her is half hearted because once again, she’s correct. “Anyways,” you say, pushing through a second set of doors. “I have everything I need, so I don’t know why I’m in such a funk.”

“Hm,” Abby says in a tone which says incoming monologue.

Stopping at your trailer, you turn around to face her. “Come on,” you say, gesturing with one hand. “Out with it.”

Abby innocently blinks. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Tell me the thing you want to say.”

“It’s just.” She shrugs. “It’s basic science.”

You stare at her for a moment. “Okay, I’ll bite. How is this science?”

“95% of people aren’t happy with what they have.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep.” Abby nods, dark hair flying. “Okay, so I may have made up that number, but it sounds right, doesn’t it? What I mean is – it’s all Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Sure, all your physical and safety needs are met but what about the rest? Are you satisfied and proud of your work? Does having only one friend” – Abby gives you a long look – “fulfill your quota on love and belonging?”

Whatever retort you had dies in your throat, unable to suitably respond. Abby has a point. True, you have it better than some, but it doesn’t mean things in your life are that great. Especially given the email you received last week.

Exhaling slowly, you stare at a point above Abby’s head. “I got the casting list for our next movie,” you mutter.

“O-kay.” She frowns. “Not sure how this ties into our conversation, but okay.”

Dropping your gaze, you look at her. “Nico was cast as the male lead.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“Fuck.”

“Uh-huh.”

Abby falls silent, clearly struggling to come up with a positive response. You should tell her there isn’t one – you’ve been sitting with this for over a week and have nothing.

Nico Taylor, aka The Ex. Also known as Mallhark’s leading man/heartthrob from many a 00’s movie. He had a brief action career before stepping from the spotlight to ‘sort things out,’ or attend serious therapy to undo the effects of childhood stardom. Now, he’s reemerged on the Mallhark scene.

You met him last fall, had a whirlwind romance where you experienced love for the first time and then, come January 1st, you found yourself dumped. It was brutal, fast, and made all the worse by the fact that you both work for Mallhark.

Thus far, you’ve been able to avoid working with Nico, but it seems your good luck has run out. Typically, directors are involved with casting decisions. Your next film though, is a Christmas movie being shot on location. That means permits, logistics and specific timelines. Because of this, your film schedule changed abruptly and overlapped with your current film. Casting was delegated and now, look where you are.

On the one hand, it’s a sign of Mallhark’s faith in the script to assign such a big star. On the other hand, you’ll be trapped in a remote location with your ex-boyfriend for a month.

Abby slowly shakes her head, her mouth a round o. “Well.” She pauses. “Shit, Y/N. I don’t even know what to say. Let’s go and get drunk at the airport?”

You can’t help but laugh; it’s such an Abby response but for once, you agree. “I mean, yeah. Let’s do it,” you say, pulling open your door. “I’ll grab my bags and meet you out front? We can call an Uber.”

Abby nods, waving goodbye as she heads for her trailer. You’re halfway inside before realizing something and poking your head back out.

“Abby?” you call.

She stops, jogging in place as she turns around. “Yeah?”

“Where are we headed?”

A delighted grin spreads across Abby’s face, which should be your first warning. Stomach sinking, you deduce it’s somewhere suitably cheesy.

“Snow Falls,” she says, clapping both hands together. “Isn’t that adorable? Sounds like something out of a Christmas story!”

“Dear god,” you groan, pulling your head back inside. “I’m going to need more than the in-flight wine to get me through this.”

Zipping up your bag, you place this on the ground and look around your trailer. No personal effects, which is just how you like it. Fewer things to pack means fewer things to repack when the stint inevitably ends.

Five weeks, you remind yourself. Only five weeks until you can repack again.

Teaser #2: definitive ranking of sluttiest male sweaters

#bangtanarmynet #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #bts fic #bts au #namjoon fic #namjoon au #bts writing #namjoon writing

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raplinenthusiasts · 1 year

Text

I wanna run my fingers through their hair

💜 @namjoonswildflower

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sugarushsuga · 2 years

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In Your Own Words - CH. 20

Genre/Au's: Rom-Com, fluff with bits of angst - Coworkers!AU; enemies to lovers; Journalist!AU

Paring: RM x Reader

Words count: 4.019

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Cursing; Gun; Robbery; Kidnapping; Police;

Tigering: Mentions of guns; Description of robbery; Descriptions of kidnapping; Stupid actions; People been held at gun point; Character expresses the intention to kill people. (Please never react to a robbery)

Synopsis: After graduating your dream was to become a journalist and work to one of the biggest magazines in the country. But that pretty dream does not translate perfectly to reality. The magazine is on verge of bankruptcy, great journalists are moving the rival magazines and not being replaced, your boss is a jerk who doesn't even know your name. Fate seems to be toying you around to its own pleasure, can you take control of your life and achieve your dreams, or you are going to be carried away by fate's plans?

Author note: This fanfic follows the world of the Brazilian production Procura-se um marido series. I do not own the series or original content.

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The guy in the cap in front of you look normal, but if you weren't so consumed by the latest discoveries, perhaps you'd left the store before the all the drama happen. Thinking about it now, there was something about him, an unease, a nervousness that clashed with a customer looking for a bottle of water or anything else. You don't notice that he kept his hand on his waist, under his shirt, until it was too late.

"Nobody moves. Give me the money!" He orders in a fierce tone suddenly to the pale boy at the cashier.

“Shit,” you hiss softly and freeze like a statue, even though the weapon isn't pointed at your face.

The store is silent, no one dares to move. The robber putts a backpack on the counter.

"Put it all in there and don't even think about making a joke. I kill you and everyone else before the alarm goes off."

As getting out of there doesn't seem like a good idea, you followed the robber's advice and stays very quiet. The cashier boy, scared, tries to open the cash register to empty it, but you suspect that first he will faint.

A movement in you peripheral vision makes you turn your head.

“Oh no!" You groan.

"Drop the gun!" shouts a police officer outside the store, already with a gun pointed at the robber.

In a quick movement, the boy pulls you by the arm, putting you in front of him and locking the gun to your temple. Your pulse race, making you dizzy. You look at the cop, begging silently for help. Another cop gets out of the car leaning against the gas pump and joins his partner, gun in hand.

"Let go of the girl," the older, taller, wider police officer warns.

"If anyone moves, I'll blow her head off!"

By this, you are already shaking. The robber put his arm around your waist, holding you tighter. The latte threatens to make the journey back out of you.

“No one needs to get hurt,” the police officer argues, but his voice sounds calmer. “All you need to do is let go of the girl and drop the gun."

The attacker groans, repositioning you so that you are reduced to a human shield.

“If anyone enters the store, the woman dies. If anyone moves, the woman dies."

You would have felt better if he had presented an option in which the woman -you- did not die in the end. But he's the one in control of the situation...

For the next three minutes, even the air seems still, waiting for the worse, and all that tension almost makes you throw up. Or faint. by the way, your stomach has been a little weird for the last few days. Maybe the whole situation with Namjoon has given you a nervous gastritis. What's not relevant now that you have a gun to your forehead and a man out of control with the finger on the trigger.

“Let the girl go, boy. You don't want to hurt anyone."

"And how am I going to get out of here?" he yells in your ear. "In a wagon straight to the jail or the morgue? Not even in dreams, buddy."

Eight police officers appear behind the first two. Everyone wears bulletproof vests and wielding guns, but pointing at the ground, the guy with a mustache seems to be the most patent, as he tries to approach. The robber shouts at him to be quiet, or the killing will begin. You think is in that moment you start to cry. The cop then began to argue, calling the boy to reason, but it's useless. He wants to run away, he is so scared as much as you or more, and he doesn't seem to trust what the police officer is saying.

“I want the press here,” he demands. "I won't leave before the TV guys appear."

Never in all your life have you wanted so much to be a librarian. Or mute.

“I'm a journalist,” You hear yourself saying between sobs.

"Are you?" He presses you even tighter against his thin body.

Well no. Not exactly, but almost one. And at the moment, the almost journalist could calm a madman with a gun until the police finds a solution.

You nod slowly in agreement.

“Then call your friends and tell them to come here. I want the TV. Many TV people."

"I worked... I work at a magazine."

"I told you I want the TV," he growls, pressing down on the barrel of the revolver in your head.

"All right. TV, got it."

You reach into your pants pocket for the phone, but he yelled at you.

“I need to pick up my phone to call,” You explain. He watches you closely, and very slowly you reach for the device. You sigh of relief to remain alive a few more moments. The boy too.

"Now call," he orders.

You want to call Namjoon, but you don't know if he will answer. You think about Jungkook, only he can be far away, and he doesn't even have that many contacts. Yoongi has. He knows everyone, work offers always fall into his lap.

"Hello."

"Yoongi, it's Y/n." Your voice comes out rough.

"Hey! I missed looking at you, doll. We were talking about you to the guys. I can't believe you were able to solve the..."

"Listen, Yoongi," You interrupt. "I'm at a gas station, inside the convenience store. It's on City Hall Street, a little further on. There is a group of armed police outside. I'm inside the store with five more hostages and there's a gun pointed at my head. He's demanding the press here to free us."

"The television!" shouts the robber. “Or I shoot everybody."

“He wants the TV here,” You repeat, swallowing hard.

"Y/n, wait a minute!" asks Yoongi, this time serious and anxious. "You are kidding, aren't you?"

“I'm not kidding. Please be quick..."

“Give it to me." The boy takes the phone from your hand. "Listen here, buddy, you better get going because I'm getting impatient. if it takes a long time to arrive, you may find your little friend cold as ice cream, with her brains scattered on the floor." He hangs up. "Now stay quiet and here by my side, baby, and let's wait for the TV people to arrive."

Your phone rings seconds later. Namjoon's name and photo flash across the screen. You don't get a chance to find out what he has to say, as the robber shoves your phone into his pants pocket, stealing in your face.

The next ten minutes felt like ages. It's with relief that you see a bald man, with a huge camera on his shoulder, make his way between the crowd of onlookers in the middle of the street. You don't know the cameraman, nor the reporter who goes with him, but you are grateful that Yoongi acted so quickly.

Moments later, Yoongi himself appears with Jungkook. The two throw you worried looks. Jungkook even more than that, looks panicked, and takes a moment to start doing his work, photographing the scene a few meters behind the line of police in front of the store.

More and more reporters, photographers and cameramen arrive, and one of them, with disheveled hair and horrible glasses, is trying to overcome the isolation barrier. You frown. Namjoon is pale as a sheet of paper, arguing with the police to enter the store. His eyes meet yours, and that makes him try even more to open space between the armed men. Funny, it even seems a man in love terrified of the possibility that the woman he loves is going to walk out of there with a bullet decorating her brain. But no, everything he wants is to get close to Yoongi and, after practically putting the credential in the police's nose, joins the reporter and the small battalion of journalists.

"Turn on the TV," the robber orders the cashier.

You are on almost every channel.

The mustache police officer continues to negotiate the robber's surrender, who sweats. That's the problem. He's too nervous. Uncontrolled people usually do things they later regret. Just look at what you have done with your life.

Wanting some comfort, you look for Namjoon and finds him talking to the police. Your eyes meet, and he gives you a discreet nod, as if to say, “It's okay, everything will turn out okay. Keep calm". One of the police officers next to him slips out of sight, while the other makes his way towards the guy with mustache.

Oh, let it be a plan! You pray.

The robber seems to notice the subtle change in the police confidence and turns around. His head slightly towards the man approaching the commander, so, afraid that he'd realize something is afoot and, you don't know, out of control and kill you, you open your mouth and let out the first thing that comes to your mind.

“You already have the press, the guarantee that no one is going to kill you. Why don't you just end it?"

"Are you in a hurry to die, baby? Because it looks like it to me." He presses the barrel against your skin.

“No, no, but think about it. The longer we stay here, more time for the police to come up with a plan to catch you, understand?" Fuck, shut up, Y/n!

He frowns, realizing the logic of the thing.

"The thing is to be quick," he nods, loosening his gun a little. "You're right."

“There are a lot of people in here,” you continue "I think you should free people. To make your escape easier. You don't think the police will let you go with six hostages, right? Nor would everyone fit in a car."

"A car. That, baby! A car!" He smiles, a little wildly, and shouts, "I want a full-fuel car here."

"I can't do this if you don't cooperate with me, son," the police officer warns, glaring at you, as if he'd overheard the conversation. And probably he had.

"The car! With a full tank!" he points out, pressing the gun into your forehead. "I'll see if I release anyone."

Okay, your plan isn't to give the robber ideas, but that's okay. At least he has agreed to release someone.

Six and a half minutes later, a black car with the doors open park in front of the store.

"Now do your part," ask the police officer.

The boy looks at the five people inside, deciding who will gain freedom. He chose the girl who had made you the latte. She gets to her feet, shaky but steady enough to stand in front of the robber and you, as he has ordered, and walks slowly to the exit. A police officer supports her as soon as she sets a foot outside the store.

"Excellent!" you say, more excited. “Now one more."

"So, without demanding anything in return?" he asks you, astonished.

You fight not to roll your eyes.

"What else do you want besides getting out of here in one piece?"

He thinks for a moment. "The money I came for. You.” He points his nose at the boy in the cashier. "Fill the backpack and don't try anything funny. Put some cigarettes too. And those truffles. Put them all."

The boy doesn’t try anything. You doubt you could do anything else as well as sob and shake. When he finishes filling the bag, the robber ask him to hand it to you, which you think is a bad sign, but you take it without argument. Then he orders the young man to leave the store, always walking in front you, blocking the police's sights, in case they decide to do something.

"Is this the first time you've tried to rob?" You ask.

"A shop, yes. Car is easier. No witnesses, no victims. just steal the cars on the street."

"Why did you decide to change?" You want to know, the journalist in you popping up in an unexpected way.

"Shut up."

"I'm just wondering if you have a family and what a fright they must have taken, watching you on TV robbing up a store and... taking hostages."

He's silent, pushing the gun against your head, and when you think, you are going to die, he relaxes a little but keeps you in his sight.

“I only have a sister,” he tells you. “She is sick, doesn’t work, and has a bunch of kids. The kids' father died a while ago."

"And you help her any way you can," You guess.

He nods.

"She must be very worried about you..." You keep saying, trying to distract him, as two more police officer exchange gestures, and one of them disappears shortly after.

“Seeing you on TV with all these people pointing guns at you and stuff. I also have a brother, you know?"

He doesn’t answer, just huffs into your neck and fixes his eyes on a camera. You cast a quick glance at Namjoon. He has his eyes fixed on you, panic still dominates his features. He's watching you so intently, as if he could get you out of there. You have the impression that he's asking you: “What the fuck do you think you are doing, my angel?”

"You, get out of here," the robber say to the short-haired woman, who has been crying silently since the beginning of the robbery, hiding behind a shelf.

Half an hour later, there's only two people in the store. You and the burglar.

“We're going out,” he yells, alerting the police. "No one will follow us, or I'll kill the woman on spot."

“Okay, just keep calm, son."

“Come on, baby. Be good and help me out of here."

He starts pushing you towards the store exit, his sweaty body stuck to yours. Then, in the midst of your fear, you realize something that at first seems insignificant, but it changes everything. The barrel of the gun is not cold. It's almost warm.

“Oh, you son of a bitch!" You turn so quickly that the boy, taken by surprise, doesn't have time to react.

You attack him with the backpack full of money, cigarettes and truffles.

"No!" You hear a chorus behind you.

Namjoon's voice is the loudest.

You jump on the robber, who, without waiting for you attack, loses his balance and fall with you. He tries to point the gun at your face, but you hit his nose and punch his head in rage while yelling, furious: "You jerk! I will finish you!"

Someone takes you off him and you kick some more, disgusted. A police officer throws himself on the robber, another is trying to snatch the gun from his hand.

“I almost pissed my pants in fear, and you had a fake gun all the time? You stole my phone, you... Let me go!" You complain, wanting to join the other men and finish him off.

A deafening noise sounds inside the store, part of the plaster comes off the roof. You look at the hole above, not understanding. You stop kicking, and that's it. You understand that the weapon is... it's... It's real!

Fear and shock leave you numb. Who, who, in sane conscience, go up against someone with a gun?

You are dragged out of the store by one of the police officers. Everything gets confused. You hear screams, shiny handcuffs gleam under the camera flashes, but you can't understand anything.

Someone pulls you back, away from the commotion. You come to think that it's a police officer, but no. Crazy brown eyes stare at you from behind horrible glasses.

"Wh-what the-shit y-were you thinking?" "He grabs your shoulders and shakes you. Your teeth chatter. "Wh-what were you w-t-trying to do?"

"I thought the gun was fake."

Namjoon buries his fingers in your flesh, close his eyes, groaning, and pulls you to the safety of his chest, squeezing you so hard that you think he breaks your rib. Which you think is wonderful. You don't even need of all these ribs, after all.

"N-never seen so much stupidity and c-c-courage together," he stammers in your hair. You find that strange. You have never heard Namjoon hesitate, let alone stumble over words like that. What was wrong? "Y-you should b-be forbidden t-t-to go out on the street without h-h-having someone by your side to-to stop you o-of d-doing stupidities."

Funny, your grandmother had said almost the same thing.

"I am really sorry. I thought that..."

“N-n-no, no need to explain. B-be quiet. Just let me hold you, my angel. Just... s-stay here."

When they invite you to enter paradise, it's crazy to refuse, so you hug him. The tremor you feel in your chest begin to spread through your anesthetized limbs and your knees give way. Namjoon supports you before you collapse, murmuring affectionate words.

It's the best day of your life...

Until someone pulls you from that heaven on earth, sending you to hell again.

"I will kill you!" Hoseok says through gritted teeth, bumping the wheels of his wheelchair on your leg and pulling you down so your face is in the same height of his. He's furious. "I'm going to kill you, then I'm going to ground you for the rest of your life! I almost had a heart attack when you jumped in that guy. Holy shit Y/n, I thought you were going to die!"

He pulls you so hard, you almost fall into his lap. Hobi suffocates you with a hug like when you were kids, and he took care of you. You turn to reset your head on your brother's shoulder and finds Namjoon's gaze fixed on you. He's a few steps away, his arms at his sides, his gaze still tense.

"You almost got shot!" Hoseok mutters in a choked voice. "You could have died, Y/n! Hell, you could have died!"

"I'm so sorry."

You hug your brother, rubbing his back and trying to make him stop crying. You haven't seen your brother cry since dad went to live in Argentina and left you with grandma. Hoseok hated the place.

Someone pulls you back.

"I thought I was going to have to photograph your brain, you... you crazy..." Jungkook starts to say but doesn't finish. Instead, he kisses your forehead and presses against his. "Irresponsible!"

OK, you already understood. Everyone is mad at you. Even you are.

The exact second you understood the gun was real, everything changed. it was there that you realized how fragile life is, that one second can change everything. There are so many things you still want to do, say. Starting with your grandmother and the culture that you have denied all your life. And ending with Namjoon, to whom all your thoughts belong to. That's how you know he's your guy.

That moment when you realize you could have died with a bullet in the middle of your forehead, all you wished was that he was far enough away not to watch the scene.

Jungkook is pulled away by one of the police officers trying to keep the press away of you. More than stunned, you turn to Hoseok, who's sending killer glare at Jungkook.

You look for Namjoon, wanting to return to the warmth of his arms, but he's no longer there. Stretching out, you search the crowd but can't see him nowhere. Before you can find him, you are taken to the police station to provide a testimony and give details of everything. It isn't pleasant. Especially because Hobi is not allowed to go in with you, and the sheriff keeps asking you why what the hell you had given the robber ideas. When it's all over and the sheriff is convinced that you are no expert in robbery, you find your brother outside in the hallway, your sister-in-law is standing behind the wheelchair with him. Yoongi is with them, to your surprise.

"Finished?" Hobi wants to know, turning the wheels of the chair to approach.

"For today, yes. They can call me if you still need me, but I'm released."

"Excellent!"

You turn to Yoongi.

“Thank you so much for acting so quickly."

"You don't have to thank me. My heart was in my hand to see you there, it was the worst news I have ever covered."

"Thanks." You smile lightly. Looking around, you force yourself to ask, "Are you alone?"

Yoongi checks the time. Your brother shrugs. Lorraine nods. Namjoon didn't come after you. And why would he? He's a committed man, as he had made clear at the dinner last night. Furthermore, it would be too easy to believe that, that hug was more than it really was an act of solidarity. Namjoon is one of the most compassionate people you know and will never deny comfort to someone —or an animal, whatever. That gesture was nothing more than a way to calm someone who was going through a bad time, someone who was part of his life for a short while. It wouldn't be Namjoon if he acted in a different way.

"Can I ask for an exclusive?" Yoongi tries, raising his eyebrows in that seductive way.

You reach for the badge on his chest and turn it over. You frown upon seeing the known Just Facts logo.

“I thought you went to TopNews."

“No way, doll. There is no money in this world that makes me switch to the dark side of the force. So, can we book the exclusive?"

"I don't know if it's a good idea... after everything that happened..."

Namjoon, you want to add, but in not necessary. Yoongi understands.

"Everything that...?" Hoseok demands, craning his neck.

"Yes, it is, and you know it," counters Yoongi. "He would never interfere in my article."

"He who?" your brother grumbles.

"Besides," Yoongi continues, "I received nine calls from magazines and newspapers asking me for your phone number. Nobody believes that a courageous journalist like you, with a natural gift for tricking people, is unemployed. Maybe I can give them your contact..." He crosses his arms, smiling cynically.

"Are you serious?" You blink. "Does anyone want me?"

Yoongi rolls his eyes.

"At the risk of losing my job, I rather not to answer this question."

You stare at him without understanding, and he smiles before asking: "So, do we have a deal? An exclusive in exchange for a dozen job offers?"

You don't need to think to answer.

"Deal."

"I'm going to talk to Jungkook so we can take some pictures. Tomorrow at the newsroom of the magazine, maybe?"

"Ah... I'd rather it be somewhere else, if you don't mind." You mutter, lowering your eyes. Going in there again would be even worse than being held at gunpoint. Even more if Alexia decides to show up. "Any other place will do."

"How about the restaurant across from the magazine, then?" You agree, and he gives you a long hug. “Glad you got out of this in one piece, doll." then he kisses you on the cheek.

"Why does everyone keeps kissing you?" Hoseok huffs while Yoongi leaves the police station.

"Oh, Hobi, for God's sake!" Lorena moans. "Leave your sister alone. We can go? Y/n must be exhausted."

“Gee, you have no idea,” you tell her.

"Let's go," agrees Hoseok. "But why isn't Namjoon here now?" He looks disappointed.

You swallow hard. “He got back with his ex-girlfriend."

Your brother frowns. "I can fix him if you want. Don't think that a leg and a few broken ribs will stop me."

"Don't do anything to him, Hobi. I don't want you to fix him, or the bike or anything else related to Namjoon, am I being clear?"

“You always screw up,” he grumbles, taking your hand and pressing your fingers against his hot cheek."

Thinking about what Grandma had said a long time ago, you reply, laughing: "You're absolutely right."

Only this time you had crossed all the limits.

We are coming to an end.

37 notes · View notes

forever-once-gone · 3 months

Text

Day 1: Sweet things soft!yandere bts does to make you unconsciously fall in love with them <3

Part of the Love, Amour, Aur Pyaar drabble series for February!

Word count: 1.1k, 1.3k, 2.0k, 0.5k, 1.5k, 0.8k, 1.8k (respectively, for a total of ~9.3k)

Content and Warnings: soft yandere (though can be read as not yandere, for most of them), love, nicknames, "productivity" ruts, insecurity, fluff, suggestive but no smut, wandering hands,

Author' note: This is for a challenge that I've put on myself to write every day of the month. The goal is not to write a lot, but just to write something. Obviously I failed this time, as I lost control of keeping these short. They were all supposed to be about 0.5k like Joon's (his was the first I wrote) but I just can't control myself and they ended up getting way too long. Especially Hobi's. I blame it on the fact that I haven't written for him yet, so I just went all out. It's unedited, as all of these will be. Don't expect timely posting as, again , this challenge is more for me to write, not for me to post. But yeah, enjoy! And let me know what you think. This is the first time I'm writing headcannons like this, so it was fun!

Kim Seokjin

~ He cooks for you

~ Your annoying roommate who seems to care for no-one else but himself, who made a little too much noise when he was playing video games in the living room, whether it be due to his first person shooter or him swaying his hips as the latest version of Just Dance blared out of the surround sound speakers he’d installed when he first moved in, your infuriating roommate who always forgot his clothes in the washer, making you put his wet, cold clothes in the dryer

~ That same, selfish roommate always found time to pause his little game, or whatever other activity, to make you food when he noticed you venture out of the room you rarely came out of (due to not wanting to see the irritating man) and into the kitchen

~ No matter how many times you tell him that you are capable of making your own lunches, he always pushes you aside and begins cooking himself

~ Making you sit at the breakfast bar with a statement along the lines of: “well, I’m hungry now, so I’m going to make lunch. You suck at cooking, so you might as well just eat what I make, I don’t want the whole house to smell like burnt fish like last time.”

~ Which is a lie, by the way

~ You do not, by any means, suck at cooking or leave the house smelling bad

~ You’re actually a pretty good cook

~ Now, you may not be a world-class chef, but you definitely knew your way around the kitchen

~ But you see, dear reader, acts of service (or more specifically, acts of cooking) were Jin’s love language

~ He may not be good at keeping up with his chores, or keeping his voice low when you were in your room trying to relax, but he did try to show his affection for you through his cooking (as he knew no other way to try and get closer to you)

~ Seeing you eating the recipe that he had perfected a few years back with a huge smile that he rarely got to see directed towards him (due to your disdain for your immature, hectic roommate) was enough to make a red hue coat his face

~ When you would finish your plate and finally notice his blush, no amount of questioning would lead him to admit that seeing you look happy—happy because of him—was the reason behind it

~ He would give excuses like: “It’s from the hot stove!” or “I put five chillies in the marinade, and it’s too spicy now!” or the wildest, most unbelievable excuse he’s given till date “I’m trying to keep myself from vomiting!”

~ Like… why would he be about to vomit when he sat beside you at the breakfast bar eating a bite of the softest and most delectable cupcake he’s made to date????

~ This cupcake would never make even the worst critic want to vomit???

~ Why does he refuse to admit it’s just because seeing the way that you’re happily swaying as you devour your third cupcake of the night made his heart swell in his chest???

~ Before, you may have refused to leave your room any more than necessary due to how Jin always managed to raise your blood pressure

~ But over the past few months of him taking up cooking for the both of you, he’s been able to see you much more than just the three times he would usually see you (breakfast, lunch, and dinner)

~ At first he would only see you when you needed to eat or leave the house, but with time, you began to spend more of your day with him, watching him cook up his new creation for the both of you to try together

~ He unconsciously started to make recipes that took longer, just so you would sit in front of him for more time as he chopped vegetables and stirred pots

~ You began to actually speak to him, and not just yell at him to make sure to take out the trash and remind him that it was his turn to clean the bathroom

~ You guys were actually talking, but not just talking, you guys were getting along

~ Who would have thought that the roommate you used to complain to your friends about over the phone, would soon become someone who you wanted to spend time with?

~ With his longer recipes, you now would bring some sort of entertainment with you, sometimes a book, or your phone, or sometimes you’d sneak off into the living room across from the kitchen and begin messing around with the game he had put on pause when you came out of your room declaring you were hungry and asking him to make that one pasta recipe you loved

~ You would laugh as he’d yell from the stove about how you were “going to mess up my save files!”

~ Slowly he was able to coax you out of your room to spend more time with him in this way, until the equilibrium shifted, and you began to spend more time outside of your room than inside of it

~ Outside of your room and with him

~ Before you knew it, your night time routine had shifted.

~ Your routine used to be eating the delicious meal that jin made for you, washing the dishes for the both of you (it was only fair with him cooking for you all the time), and then heading straight back into your room with a small, reluctant thank you

~ But now?

~ You would wash the dishes, and instead of going into your room, you’d settle on the couch where Jin had gone back to playing his video games

~ When he’d notice you were done with the dishes, he’d throw one end of the blanket that he was wrapped up in to you

~ He’d try not to draw attention to the flush that had resurfaced on his cheeks again (due to you willingly spending time with him outside of cooking now) as he kept his eyes locked on the tv, but it was a fruitless attempt as you had grown fond of the rosiness of his cheeks and would notice it even if he were to try to hide the red under a pound of concealer

~ He’d try not to gulp when you’d slide closer to his end of the couch, pressing against his arm, a hand falling on his thigh under the blanket, peeking over his shoulder at the controller in his hand

~ You’d whisper out a low-toned comment of how you wanted to learn how to play too, how you wanted him to teach you how to play

~ He was willing to cook for you three times a day—that took a lot of effort, you had to admit

~ Maybe it was time for you to return the favour

Min Yoongi

~ He always indulges you in your newest hobbies

~ You tend to hop from one interest to another

~ One day you’re learning how to crochet, the next you’re folding a thousand paper cranes

~ Always grasping at the newest pastime that you saw pop up on your feed, you tend to hole yourself up in your room, fiddling with tiny strips of paper as you fold paper stars (at least, that’s what you were obsessing over this time)

~ He would gladly sit beside you, cutting thin strips of paper just so you didn’t have to stop your folding to restock

~ When you had quickly changed to knitting, and the shoe box of paper strips were left to rot under your bed, he didn’t make you feel bad at all

~ Whereas your friends from the past made you feel guilty when you wouldn’t stick to your hobbies long enough to actually use up the things that they had helped you with or bought you (claiming they had wasted their time helping you)

~ Yoongi, on the other hand, would just smile and ask you about the new task that had caught your eye

~ He’d rather bite off his own tongue, than say anything that would make you feel bad

~ Quickly he’d adapt and now, instead of cutting strips of paper, he was rolling your yarn into balls by hand as your playlist played in the background

~ Though the music was playing, he was focused more on you explaining the new pattern that you’d learned, watching as you ranted about the required tension in the yarn as you fiddled with your newest project

~ When you were able to stick to a hobby long enough to complete a project, he was the one who was the most proud of you compared to anyone else

~ When you showed him the bottle green knit ribbed sweater you had completed for him, he was smiling ear to ear, pulling his current hoodie off in an instant to put on the one you’d made him

~ He watched sweetly as you moved his body around to show him all the techniques you had to use

~ Lifting his arms up to show him where you had to attach the sleeves to the torso of the sweater

~ Tilting his chin up so you could get a better look at the neckline, as you told him how you had to learn a different stitch just to make it

~ You tried to pretend like you didn’t see the endeared, rosy look on his face, when you looked back up at him, realizing just how close you were to him at that point

~ You took a step back from him, clearing your throat, asking him to do a spin so you could see how the back fit him

~ You hoped he didn’t discern that the only reason that you had asked him to turn was so you’d be given a chance to collect yourself

~ When he finally did turn back around—at your say—he gave you a small, tender smile

~ “Thank you”

~ You could have melted right there

~ You loved how he didn’t even point out the fallen stitches as he hugged the fabric close to himself with a smile

~ But even in obviously love-filled moments like that, it wasn’t enough to really pull you together

~ It wasn’t until you had taken up learning how to play the guitar, that the both of you couldn’t skirt around your feelings any longer

~ When your feed had become filled with electric guitar covers of classic rock, pop rock, and modern pop music, you had quickly told your enabler about your new passion

~ Yoongi loved when you took on a hobby that he actually knew something about

~ It gave him an excuse to be even closer to you

~ To give you tips and tricks, to guide you, even teach you!

~ It gave him reason to be near you even more than usual

~ So you’ve got to understand that he was thrilled when you started sending him TikToks of face-cropped out people playing the guitar

~ Aside: you know, like the types of TikToks that are lowkey thirst traps; made in lowlight, the player zooming in precisely to their lower torso where the guitar is, as they slowly thrust their hips to the music? yeah, when you send him those, he gets giddy at the fact that you may find guitar players *cough*like him*cough* attractive

~ But he did end up offering to teach you how to play! Congrats, you got free private lessons :D

~ He convinces you to get a cheaper acoustic guitar to start with before jumping into the electric guitar—even though you had pouted at him at the guitar shop—as he said it was easier to learn the basics on an acoustic rather than an electric

~ Every free evening that you had, he would come to your apartment, guitar case strap over his shoulder with a cute baseball hat on to keep his promise of teaching you

~ He’d be so gentle with you, never raising his voice even when you made the same mistake ten times in a row

~ He didn’t frown when you forgot the chord that he had taught you from your last session, all he would do is gently move your fingers to the right position from behind you, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder as he did

~ Was that position necessary? No of course not

~ Could he have very well just shown you the chord on his own guitar from in front of you? Sure, he could have

~ But let him have this moment, will you?

~ He likes to pretend that he’d hugging you from behind

~ Let him be a little delusional, please and thank you

~ Day and day again, Yoongi would give you your lessons, and even after he’d leave late at night, you’d strum your fingers over the strings

~ This hobby quickly became the one that you spent the longest time fixating on

~ You weren’t able to put your (quickly callusing) finger on why it had become the hobby you stayed on the longest, but when Yoongi appeared with his gummy smile that evening, looking like a complete sweetheart, you think you were able to finally realize why

~ That night you played for him in one try, for the first time, the song he had been teaching you

~ Your vision was tunneled on your strings as you tried your hardest to make the man in front of you proud

~ You wanted to show him that his work on you had paid off

~ Not just how much time he’d spent on teaching you the guitar, but ALL the time he’d spent on you

~ Keeping up with your hobbies, sitting beside you when you fumbled with UV resin, allowing you to do makeup on him when you went through your makeup artist phase, buying you the expensive foreign yarn that you kept going on and on about

~ You wanted to show him that he didn’t waste his time on him, and maybe by playing this song for him, he’d realise just how much you appreciated him

~ And when you struck the final chord, and looked up at him, you were taken back by the glazed over look of his eyes, his lips shining in the LED lights you had put up when they were trending, affection clear in his expression

~ The two of you sat in the post-performance atmosphere, until you were lifting your guitar out of your lap, laying it down beside you, and shifted a bit closer to him

~ Placing a hand on the collar of the sweater you had made for him (it had quickly become one of his favourite things to wear), you waited to see if he’d pull away, but when he didn’t, you finally connected your lips to his

~ You may hop from one hobby to another, but if only one thing were to stay constant in your life, you hoped it would be him

Jung Hoseok

~ He would make you mixtapes/playlists

~ You met him through your university friend

~ One of them was a theatre major, and so had a few classes with the talented dance major that always performed at the school talent nights

~ When you’d gone to see your friend’s short story performance, you had been encapsulated in the ambience of the man who performed right before your friend went up

~ His movements were smooth, his expressions were haunting, the music paired with the way he seemed to blend in with the flashing lights and tempo, yet the way he still remained the focal point of the whole dance was captivating

~ And the best part is when he finished, chest heaving as he stood with his chin pointed up, head slightly tilted to the side, his expression was harsh just as the music had once been, harsh—that is—until the audience erupted into cheers and he broke into a huge smile

~ Shiny white teeth reflecting the stage lights back at the crowd, and as the MC came back on stage to thank the man (J-Hope, you learned from the lady) and just before he turned to walk off stage, he met your eyes, his eyes shining as he threw a wink your way

~ You felt so on the spot as the person sitting beside you turned to you, as he had noticed the display from J-Hope

~ You fiddled with the bouquet sitting in your lap

~ “Is that your boyfriend?” he asked, leaning over to you so you could hear him over your friend’s performance

~ “No,” you had replied, still embarrassed by the talented man’s wink, and the questioning by the uni student you’d never met before

~ “Well,” the guy leaned back into his seat, “maybe you should change that.”

~ Ah, the man thought you were in a situationship with him, or at the very least that the performer had interest in you

~ How are you supposed to explain to him that a lot of performers do similar things??? It’s not something unique just to you

~ You decided to just forget about the whole thing, trying to enjoy the performance so you could actually give your friend a compliment when you handed them the flowers you brought after the show

~ You tried your best, but other than getting a vague grasp of the plot, you couldn’t really remember any details, your brain still replaying the image of J-Hope winking at you

~ You clapped as hard as you could when your friend’s performance ended, watching them bow with their fellow actors and actresses

~ They caught your eye, happy to see you in the front row of the theatre, the first few rows reserved for the family and friends of the performers, they sent a happy wave to you before walking off stage

~ After another hour and a half, and the last few performances finished, you were able to go backstage to see your friend

~ You greeted them with a hug and then presented them with the bouquet of roses

~ “Aw, Y/n, you didn’t have to do this!” they said, as they gave you another hug

~ “You deserved it! You did so well today!” you smiled at them

~ “Aw, baby,” they said affectionately, “I love you so much!”

~ “Yeah yeah,” you waved them off from trying to pull you into yet another hug

~ They just linked their arms with you, pulling you through the crowd of performers you had been watching for the past few hours

~ They brought you to their friends, some of which you had already met through the friend who continued to press themselves against your side, your flowers clutched to their other side

~ “Y/n, I want you to finally meet my entire team! Everyone, this is Y/n!”

~ A chorus of hellos surrounded you, to which you politely replied

~ You made small talk with the people around you, that is until you heard someone clear their throat behind you

~ You and your friend turned as one (they did have quite the tight grip on you), and though you expected one of your friend’s friends, you weren’t prepared to see J-Hope standing behind you, a small grin on his face

~ You nearly took a step back, but your friend’s grip on you kept you in place

~ “Oh my god, hi J! I saw your performance out there! All the practice paid off, huh?” your friend asked the man who had not broken eye contact with you even once since you turned around

~ “Yeah, more than paid off, I’d say,” he said confidently

~ He tilted his head at you, “and who may this be? You dating or what? I see them a lot in your stories.”

~ Your friend’s face immediately turned red, as they turned to press their face into your shoulder in embarrassment, “No~” they dragged out the word, “We’re—We’re just friends, we umm—”

~ “That’s great,” J-Hope interrupted, uninterested in what your friend had to say further. “Does that mean I can finally follow this beauty on Instagram?”

~ Your friend was silent, their hold tight on you

~ The silence dragged on, until it finally set in that the handsome man in front of you was asking you out

~ “Oh! Uh, yeah, yeah you can,” your friend said reluctantly, when you didn't tell J-Hope off

~ You felt your friend’s grip on you disappear, as they slinked back to their friend group

~ “Amazing.” J-Hope smiled at you. He pulled out his phone and immediately opened up instagram, searching your username (no he didn’t ask you for it, yes he already had it memorized). He sent you a follow request (your instragram was private), and slipped his phone into his pocket

~ “Look forward to getting to know you better, Y/n.” He stuck out his hand for you to shake and you obliged

~ He turned to walk away from you, before calling over his shoulder, “Next time, make sure the bouquet is for me, alright? I like tulips”

~ He threw another wink at you, leaving you frozen to your spot, all alone

~ When you finally came to, you immediately pulled out your phone to apologize to your friend, and that you’d meet up with them at the restaurant you’d planned to go to together for their victory (so to speak) dinner

~ They just texted you to reschedule it for another time

~ You then opened up Instagram, accepting J-Hope’s (who you learned’s real name is Jung Hoseok, J-Hope being his stage name) request

~ As you scrolled through the profile, you got a dm: “Well, you accepted that fast 😚”

~ Another message flew in before you could even think to reply, “I hope that means I made a good impression 🤔”

~ You immediately felt embarrassed all over again, had you been too fast? Should you have waited for the morning to accept the request? Were you coming off as too eager? Did you seem desperate?!

~ Just as your finger began to move to block the man and all the troubles he had already begun to deploy on your psyche, another bubble popped up: “Just so you know… you made quite an impression on me too ☺️”

~ You sucked in a breath, and just hearted his message, and put away your phone

~ He seemed to have quite the love for dramatics

~ Over the next few days he continued to message you, with you only able to give him short replies and hearted messages—to be fair to you, it was hard to deal with a man with over 3500+ followers flirting with you day in and day out

~ You aren’t really able to get comfortable enough to really talk to him until he randomly, one day, sends you a link to a song

~ “Hey, this reminded me of you.”

~ It was not a song you were expecting, it was an instrumental piece, no words for you to know why exactly this song reminded him of you… but you liked it.

~ It seemed like a hopeful song, a little bit whimsical, a little hesitant, but overall positive.

~ You messaged him a full sentence for the first time that evening: “Thanks, I really liked it. I added it to my playlist <3”

~ Hoseok spent that whole night rereading your message, looking over the small heart emoji you sent

~ He considered this a step in the right direction, sending a screenshot of your message to his friends just for the group chat to erupt in messages to hype him up

~ Since that day, he routinely sent you songs in between his other messages, almost maneuvering you into feeling more comfortable speaking with him

~ The songs rarely seemed to match the ones he’d previously sent, the genres were always different, the mood always fluctuating, and it just made one very odd, hard to follow playlist

~ Yet, it still made your heart beat out of your chest when you played it

~ And it worked, as your playlist grew with the songs that he sent you, so did your feelings for the flirty, straightforward man

~ After many times of asking to meet you in person, you finally agreed to meet Hoseok for a date

~ You put on your best outfit and went to the flower shop at the corner by your apartment, before beginning your walk to the restaurant the two of you had agreed to meet at

~ (the same one you were supposed to go to with your ex-friend on the day you first met Hoseok—and, yes, ex-friend; you have no idea why they didn’t seem to want anything to do with you anymore…)

~ You rounded the corner to see him waiting by the entry of the restaurant, dark sunglasses covering his eyes, a dark button up with dress pants and shoes paired nicely with it, his mouth set in a slight frown

~ You walked up to him, and almost as though he could sense your presence, he turned right to you his frown instantly becoming a large smile, teeth and all

~ “Y/n,” he said softly, sounding almost relieved. He took a step towards you, before pulling you into a light hug, as though he was trying his hardest not to scare you away

~ He held on for a second, before taking a step back, scanning your face with a smile

~ You held out the flowers in front of you

~ “Tulips,” he said, accepting the bouquet from you. “You remembered.”

~ He brought them to his face, taking a small whiff, before pulling you in for another hug

~ “Thank you”

~ Maybe you should have been more put off by his touchy-ness considering this was only the second time you’d met him in person, but over the last few weeks of texting him, you didn’t feel uncomfortable at all

~ Not uncomfortable, but the butterflies in your stomach were very much making themselves known

~ “No worries,” you said

~ “Here, this is for you.” He held out a CD case decorated with colourful stickers of rainbow flowers, cartoon characters, and random cute objects

~ He had spelled out “to: Y/n” in sticker letters in one corner of the clear case, “from: Hoseok” in another

~ When you opened the case, you saw that he had written in red sharpie over the CD: “Hopefully: the first of many ♡ Our first official mixtape”

~ You traced over the stickers and letters on both the CD and the CD case, taken aback by the gift

~ “I burned the disc myself. I know it’s a bit of an outdated practice, but I hope you think it feels true to us.”

~ You just smiled up at him, “I love it, thank you, Hoseok.”

~ You pulled him in for a hug, the first ever hug you’ve given him

~ He felt shivers run down his back

~ After the incredible dinner, you went home and immediately put the CD on (after having dug through your closet for the old CD player, and making a huge mess of your room)

~ The songs were a mix of your favourites that he had sent you, and the other half were songs that you had recommended back to him

~ And as the songs filled the air, you sent him a picture of the CD player on your messy bed with all the clothes thrown on it

~ “The CD is wonderful,” you added along with the picture. “You’re wonderful. I’d love for there to be many more after this one <3”

~ Hoseok sent the screenshot to his group chat, and Taehyung was the loudest amongst all the cheers

~ “You owe me big time for telling Y/n that they should date you that day! 😤”

Kim Namjoon

~ He writes you poetry

~ He is a book worm through and through, so he tends to send you excerpts from his favourite books

~ Whether it be poetry, prose, or anything else

~ A dialogue from a movie

~ A sentence from a youtube video

~ A screenshot from instagram

~ No matter what medium, if it’s a piece of writing that reminded him of you, he sends it to you

~ It started off with poetry that was innocent enough, poetry about humans, the universe, the stars, our place in the middle of this gigantic mess that was left behind from the big bang

~ At the beginning, the writings are very philosophical

~ That is, until it isn’t

~ Slowly but surely, the poems change from ones that relate more to the state of the world, the route in which the world is going, poems about human nature to then being about the relations amongst humans, the intimate nature of growing with someone, being with someone

~ At first they seem to insinuate only of two like-minded souls coming together in a shared existence, but not necessarily one that was romantic

~ But then the poetry does turn into something more romantic

~ Talks of twin flames

~ Snippets of greek mythology that spoke of how humans were made in pairs until Zeus split them to be in twos—separated forever—waiting and looking for their other half—their soulmate

~ These poems are at first more abstract, two people without names, without “me” and “you” appearing in the words, until they just one day are

~ One day the poems change from the concept of love, to very direct professions of love

~ Poems that start with the word “I” and end with the word “you” with the various synonyms and phrases that denote “love” sprinkled in between them

~ You would never know that some of these quotes, writings that he shares, are pieces he’s written directly for you

~ From the beginning, the occasional message was not one he happened to stumble upon on the web, or a quote he found particularly intriguing in his current book

~ No

~ Sometimes, they were from him

~ His feelings for you, written in his google doc, the document filled only with his feelings about you, the words he wrote while thoughts and images of you circled around his head like a lovestruck character from an old cartoon

~ Sure, in the beginning, the poems were more frequently from other sources than himself, but as he slowly shifted his topics for poetry, as he got bolder with his underlying declarations of love—his own poetry document became his main source of vocables to send to you

~ You should be scared with this gradual change to this feeling of love that you’re getting from someone you consider a friend, but with the gradual change in the screenshots of scenes from movies displaying subtitles of love, to pictures of underlined quotes in the book he’s reading, to the posts with delicate poetry forwarded to you, pictures of a laptop screen that you were beginning to become all too familiar with; in that same gradual way, your feelings for him changed too

~ From something more platonic, more abstract, more open-ended

~ To something much more romantic, defined, and unchanging

~ With the small declarations of love he’s dusted into your inbox over the last few seasons

~ He’s slowly, but deliberately made his way into your heart

~ Maybe it’s time you wrote him something too

Park Jimin

~ He always helped you out during the harsh winters

~ Well he helped you out during most of the year really, he’d mow your lawn, he’d ask you if you’d rather he take your dog out for a walk with his, so you could relax in the morning

~ In the spring he’d tell you about the best native wildflowers you could sow in your garden

~ He’d help you deal with any blown over garbage that had stayed hidden under the snow that had only made itself known when the snow had finally melted

~ He’d walk up your porch just to give you some of the cookies that he had made just moments ago

~ Telling you, when you opened the door, how he needed a taste tester to truly know whether the cookies were made just right

~ “I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of my coworkers tomorrow at the potluck,” he’d say with a closed eyes smile

~ He also told you how he was pretty late to welcoming you to the neighbourhood as you had moved in early spring and it had already become hot outside

~ Just accept the cookies, dear, he spent the last two days on them

~ So it was less that he was helping you out during the winter times (that had yet to come), but more so that he was such a kind and helpful neighbour that he had eventually grown so close to you through these various small favours, that he had practically become a part of your home life

~ During the summer, he’d mow your lawn for you when he’d do his, only accepting a cup of lemonade from you, and nothing more in return

~ When you’d be tending to your flower garden in front of your house, he’d give you tips over the fence, telling you how he tended to his rose bush and the best pruning methods for the hydrangeas that you had

~ When you’d be in your backyard, picking ripe tomatoes from the vine, guiding your cucumber vines up the wooden frame Jimin had helped you put together, and/or just sunbathing on a lawn lounger, Jimin would peek over the fence and make small talk until you just called him over to make the conversation easier to carry

~ He’d be quick to rush over, bringing his pup to mingle with yours; they both had become pretty close following their shared walks together

~ You watched the dogs chase each other around your backyard as you and Jimin laid down on the loungers and basked in the sun

~ (with plenty of sunscreen of course, Jimin would never let you get skin cancer—he’s sweet like that, just lay on your stomach and let him rub the cream in, don’t pay much mind to any wandering hands)

~ In fall, he helped you rake all the leaves, not allowing you to do anything more than jumping into the big pile at the end of the hour

~ He would jump in following you, right on top of you, causing you to hold him close to keep from becoming crushed by him entirely

~ Your dogs were barking around the two of you, confused by the two of you disappearing into the center of the leaf pile

~ They continued to circle around the pile, pawing at the leaves they could reach until the two of you burst out of the leaves like freshly assembled viruses lysing out of a cell

~ He helped you put up your Halloween decorations, and helped you sew your costume together

~ Since you lived right beside together, you paired together to make a common theme between the two houses, and handed out candy together on Halloween night

~ When the late fall rain started, and your gutters were clogged with fallen leaves, he leant you his ladder and guided you on how to clear out the drainage, making sure you didn’t waste your money on hiring a roofer to clear them out when he could just help you do it himself

~ Plus you made him dinner in return! A win-win in his books, if you ask him

~ When winter struck, and the snow finally began to fall, he didn’t let you use your brand new shovel even once on your own, always out in the driveway before you are even able to put on your gloves

~ “I already finished mine! I’ll help out with yours if you’ll make me a cup of hot chocolate in return?”

~ Obviously you agree, a helping hand from your handsome, handy neighbour which saves you time and energy? Yes, please

~ When the snow got too heavy for you to drive to the grocery store safely, Jimin would knock on your door, take notes off your grocery list, and go on the behalf of both of you

~ He’d call you from the grocery store no less than three times to make sure he chose the right type of milk that you had wanted, because god forbid you got the wrong brand of oat milk because of him!

~ How else would you be able to see how he’d be such a dependable husband?!

~ When he finally would text you in the parking lot of the grocery store that he’s on his way back

~ He’d be giddy to see you standing in your driveway, bundled up in a long jacket, a large scarf, and red and white striped mittens, waiting with a cold nose to help him bring in the groceries

~ Every Saturday, after the grocery store trip, you’d make him dinner to repay him for his help, because even though you always paid him back for the things he bought you, you always felt that he deserved something more

~ You’d always end up in your living room, watching a random rom com together after finishing your dinner

~ The one night that led to the two of you finally acknowledging the feelings you had gained for him had been a stormy night

~ A blizzard had swept over the city, laying a meter of snow over the whole area

~ You were practically buried in

~ You were faring pretty well, until in the middle of the night, your house lost power

~ You hoped it would come back soon, but when it didn’t come back in an hour, you ended up calling Jimin

~ It took three tries for him to actually pick up the phone. “Hello? I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

~ “Hmm? Y/n? No, no, I’m awake,” he yawned, obviously just woken up. “What’s wrong?”

~ “Jimin, I have no power… It’s been over an hour… I’m getting a bit scared.”

~ “...Give me a second, I’ll be right over.”

~ He waited for you to open the door to your house, looking around the neighbourhood. He noticed that all the lights were out, even the streetlights.

~ When you finally opened up the door, all wrapped up in a blanket, eyes a bit teary, he had to stop himself from scooping you up in his arms and comforting you

~ Instead he just told you to bundle up and bring anything you need, plus your dog over to his house

~ He waited in the foyer as you put on your jacket and picked up some things that you needed, your dog laying obediently beside his booted feet

~ Your house had seriously cooled down in the two hours since you’d lost power, it seriously was cold outside

~ You looked like a marshmallow in your puffed up jacket, and he had to bite back his smile (not that you’d see it in the dark anyways)

~ He brought you over to his house, that miraculously had power

~ “I have a generator,” he explained. “You’ll be warm and safe here.”

~ You had to stop yourself from sobbing in thanks, instead just nodding your head

~ He brought you and your dog up to his guest bedroom, giving you some extra blankets just in case

~ “Call me if you need anything, okay?” he said

~ You nodded from the center of the bed, all wrapped up in blankets with both your and his dogs lying on top of the blankets with you

~ “Thank you, Jimin, for everything.” You could feel yourself choking up. “I don’t know what I would’ve done all year without you. I would be okay in the cold, but my pup—”

~ You broke down in sobs, Jimin immediately rushing back to you from the doorway to pull you into his chest on the bed

~ “Hey, hey, don’t cry. I’m here. I’m here. You, our dogs, me, we’re all safe. Don’t you cry, please, don’t cry.”

~ He rocked you in his arms until you calmed down, almost instantly melting in his arms

~ “Can you stay with me here tonight?” you asked, scared to look at him as you asked

~ “Of course”

~ He pulled you to lay back down in the bed, pushing the blankets up to lay beside you. You immediately pushed yourself back into his chest

~ “Seriously, thank you, Jimin,” you whispered into the dark, warm room

~ “Don’t thank me, I wouldn't have done it any other way”

Kim Taehyung

~ He was always the one to notice when you fell into a slump (and pull you out of it)

~ When you’ve been having a bad time, stuck studying or doing overtime at work, never able to fully just go back home without immediately opening up your laptop and tip-tapping away, he always manages to realize you’ve fallen into the “productivity” hole and comes knocking at your door with dinner in hand and a bottle to calm your nerves

~ If you weren’t responding properly for one day, he’d let it be, it may not be one of your productivity ruts, but if it had been nearing 48 hours since you replied to him, or messaged in the group chat with your guys’ friend group, or if he called you and you didn’t pick up, that’s when he would begin to assume that you were in your rut again.

~ While the rest of your friends didn't really ever notice that you were absent, at least not enough to draw concern, Tae would notice a little too quickly

~ Tae would realize before you did yourself

~ “Your do-not-disturb is on again, isn’t it?” was his ‘greeting’ when you opened the door for him

~ This was not an unexpected appearance, he had once again realized your state of mind

~ For what was the second time this month, probably the twentieth time this year, Tae had come to help you relax

~ The only friend you could truly rely on to help you

~ “...yeah, I’m sorry.” You closed the door behind him, watching him slip out of his shoes and into the slippers you kept around for him

~ He immediately walked into your kitchen, setting the bottle and food on your countertop, before heading straight to your home office

~ He shut down your laptop, closed the curtains, and blew out the eucalyptus “calming” candle that you only really burned in moments like these

~ “Tae… I should finish my report.”

~ He closed the door, before pulling you back into living room with him

~ “You can do that tomorrow, now just sit and relax.”

~ He sat you down on the couch, taking your tv remote and putting on the latest episode of the show the two of you had been watching together

~ He throws a blanket at you and then brings you guys the food he brought

~ When the food is all done, and a bit too much alcohol consumed, you let you head rest on his shoulder, his arm instantly coming around to hold you

~ “Taehyung, why do you always come here?” you asked

~ “I thought you could use some distractions from your work.” His hand smoothing over your deltoid soothingly

~ You wish he had said something different, something more selfish

~ “Is that all?” You shift against him to look at his expression, his eyes finally meeting yours

~ Was this the moment that the both of you finally vocalized the clear love you had for each other?

~ Tae sure hoped it was

~ “Do you want there to be another reason?”

~ You didn’t have a good answer for him, stuck between wanting to tell him how deeply you had grown to care for him and the worries that you had become a burden to him

~ A burden who always needed to be taken care of

~ You worried that you had become something that he resented, or would grow to resent

~ Tae brought you closer to him, his arm shifting from your upper arm, to instead curl around your waist, pulling you up to be level with him

~ “Y/n,” he purred. “Do you want me to have ulterior motives?”

~ Your mind was filled with worry that though he may care for you now, would he still care for you when you would go MIA again?

~ You exes hadn’t, they had all eventually grown tired of having to deal with your troubles with productivity

~ But Tae was different

~ It had already been months of your constant cycles of falling into “productive” spurts and pushing everyone away, and then realizing that you had and apologizing to everyone you’d ignored

~ And while your friends’ would be a bit irritated, Tae would always just be glad that he’d been able to bring you back to life (so to speak)

~ He never made you feel bad about the way you were, instead just be happy to have you back

~ Maybe, he’d be different

~ No, he was different

~ “Would it be bad, if I said yes? Would you come to regret having to deal with me?” You brought a hand up to cup his cheek, your thumb coming up to pass just below the beauty mark under his eye

~ He only leaned his head into your touch, pulling you even closer to him

~ “I could never regret anything that had to do with you.” He brought you into his lap, pressing his face into your shoulder, a small kiss pressed to the side of your neck

~ “Just let me take care of you.” He mumbled into your neck. “And take care of me too.”

~ It was time that you returned the solicitude

Jeon Jungkook

~ He helps you learn how to workout at the gym

~ When you had started to go to the gym in your apartment building, you were very lost, overwhelmed at all the choices for machines, weights, and workout plans

~ Since this was only a gym in the basement of the building that you lived in, there weren’t any personal trainers who could help you come out with a work out plan

~ On top of that, it seemed like only a handful of people came down here anyway, as more often than not, the gym would be empty

~ The only proof that someone else did some down here being the shifted weights and the changed settings on the cardio machines

~ The emptiness was nice to someone who was just starting out their workout journey like you

~ But it was both a blessing and a curse

~ A blessing because nobody would see you fumble about with the machines, unsure of how to use them or how to get in the right position to actually work out the muscles that they were supposed to

~ A curse because you were often lost and had no one you could ask for help

~ You didn’t dare to do any heavy lifting, because you knew how important having a spot was when you did, and you didn’t want to end up getting crushed under your bar as you tried to bench press

~ So you stuck to light weights, and more cardio than anything else

~ You usually worked out in the mornings, but one day, you had woken up late and considering you had to go to work, you decided it’d be better to go work out after

~ So after a long day, you pushed yourself to go down to the gym downstairs, telling yourself the workout could be half an hour, but you were gonna workout no matter your aching body

~ You were surprised to find someone actually working out there

~ A man with a sleeve full of tattoos on full display due to his oversized, short-sleeved white tee

~ A pair of gray sweats with the bottoms slightly pulled up his calves a bit, as though he’d pulled them up to prevent the loose fabric from getting in the way

~ He was doing some pullups on a bar, facing away from you, but he looked over his shoulder when he heard you enter, his arm muscles rippling beside his face as he did

~ “Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting.”

~ He just grunted in response, dropping down from the bar, and wiping his neck with a towel that he had set aside, his lip ring glinting in the gym lights

~ “Don’t apologize, you’re not interrupting anything,” he took a drink from his water bottle before moving to lay down on the bench press, it seemed he had already set up his weights, and all you could do was watch in awe as he pressed what was equivalent to your weight like it was nothing

~ He noticed you watching him from his laid position

~ “What? Not gonna workout?”

~ His words jumped you into action, instantly walking away from him to the stair climber that you usually began your workouts with

~ Thankfully, you were facing away from the man, so you couldn’t be anymore distracted by the lean man behind you

~ But the grunts—my god—how were you supposed to focus on your workout when even through your music, you could hear his groans as he lifted and lowered the weights to his chest

~ This was so different from working out by yourself!

~ You just turned up your music and tried to get through your 5 minutes of climbing

~ When you finished and moved to the leg press (it was leg day after all), you put on some weights (a safe amount that you were sure wouldn’t hurt you) and settled into position, your legs lifted up in position

~ You released the plate, and began the workout just as the man sat up for a break

~ You could feel him watching you, as you did your reps, his eyes scanning your body from top to bottom

~ You saw him stand up, coming up to stand beside you

~ “You’re going to hurt yourself doing that.”

~ “Huh?” you said, with a breath, sweat dripping down your temple

~ “You’re gonna break your knees locking them like that”

~ He helped you lock the plate again, before explaining further

~ “You’re locking your knees with every push. When you do leg presses, you’re not meant to extend your legs fully, you’re only gonna cause damage to your knees.” He motioned you to get up from your seat, before taking your place. “See how I do it. I bring my knees down almost entirely to my chest, right?”

~ You nodded, watching his demonstration.

~ “Then when I extend my legs, I only go this far, my legs don’t go completely straight like yours. Do you see the difference?” His brown eyes on you, as he pointed down at his legs. “Okay, now you try.”

~ You settled back in position, as he stood beside you, arms crossed over his chest

~ You followed his advice, doing one rep to show him, as he nodded in approval, “better”

~ “While we’re at it, here,” he brought his hand down to your lower abdomen, pushing your back against the machine, “when you push, you should avoid moving your hips forward, otherwise it won’t hit your quads, hamstrings, and glutes. You should feel it here,” he traced over your thighs with his index finger very lightly

~ “Try again but using your legs only, not your back”

~ You did another rep, instantly feeling the burn in your upper legs a lot more than before, “fuck!”

~ He laughed, “yeah, you feel it now, huh?”

~ “Yeah,” you struggled to say, locking the plate again. Letting your head fall back to the seat. “I’m gonna have to lower the weights now, I think. It’s a lot harder like this. Thanks for the advice though”

~ “No problem, you’ll grow your thighs in no time now.” He went back to the back presse, letting you go back to your workout. “Just would hate to see you hurt yourself, sweets”

~ You smiled at him, as he laid back down

~ When you left the gym, an half an hour later than you planned to

~ He called out to you, “if you ever need any other advice, I always come down here at 7pm and I’m usually here ‘til 9. Don’t hesitate, alright? I could use a workout partner, and if you ever need a spot, I’m here”

~ You took him up on his offer the following week, as you went down at 7pm sharp to see him setting up for his session

~ He smiled up at you from his position near the floor, setting up some weights, “Thought I’d never see you again, sweets.” He straightened up from the floor. “Thought I’d scared you away”

~ “No, no, I was just busy with work. Finally got some time today, couldn’t turn down a workout partner” you didn’t dare to tell him that you were just unsure whether it would be appropriate to actually start working out with him

~ He hummed in response, “let’s get started then, shall we?”

~ Over the next few months, he taught you how to use the machines more effectively and safely

~ He set up a better weekly routine that would work with you, which mirrored his, but with lower weights

~ He also grinned proudly when nearly a year later, you were showing him your progress pictures and flexing your arms in front of him, flexing your arms just like he’d shown you

~ You’d become quite close as you spent roughly two hours together every evening

~ “Goodness, Kookie, I would never get so ripped if it weren’t for you”

~ He pushed you away from him with a laugh, a blush on his face (he was a lot shyer than he originally seemed with his instructor persona)

~ “You still got a lot further to go, if you want to get anywhere near me” he teased you, referencing the one time you’d joked that you planned to become more muscular than him

~ “Oh stopppp!” you pushed him right back, your hands lingering on him even when you didn’t mean to

~ You had grown massive feelings for the tattooed man that was your workout partner

~ and you were sure that he did too, considering how many times you caught his eyes lingering on you when you worked out, his eyes darting away every time you caught him, blushing as he went back to his reps

~ And the fact that he would still readjust your position even though you very well by now knew the correct way

~ Or how he’d make you lay your hand over a muscle that he were focusing on during his workout, just so you’d feel the muscle move underneath your palm

~ Like, seriously, you don’t think he needed you to press your hand against his bare abs while he did his twenty different types of crunches for a full hour

~ Oh also, did I mention that he took to working out without a shirt a lot more after he began working out with you? Yeah, exactly, that man was definitely trying to get you to fall for him

~ Well, to be fair, you had started to pick out nicer work out clothes too… so take that as you will

~ And you couldn’t forget the one time, he’d jokingly (so he claimed) asked you if you’d like a different form of cardio to warm up before your workouts when you’d told him of what Henry Cavill does for cardio

~ You had laughed to hide the way your eyes were probably screaming yes

~ After another few months of him holding your waist as you did weighted squats, guiding you from behind, and him asking you to sit on his back while he did push ups and planks, and a hundred different ways you both found excuses to keep your hands and body on one another, you decided enough was enough

~ You took the elevator down at 6:30pm to his floor, and for the first time stood in front of his apartment door (he’d told you his floor and apartment number around the time you first met)

~ You rang the bell, hearing a soft “coming” from behind the door until he stood in front of you, shirtless and with his tattoos and piercings on full display

~ Goodness, his lip ring, looked incredible, you couldn’t wait to tug it in between your teeth

~ “Y/n?” he questioned, clearly confused to see you in your workout clothes and in front of his door so early

~ “Hey, Kookie,” you traced your nails down his chest, before stopping at his abs, “I was thinking that, maybe, we could try out Henry Cavill’s cardio warm-up, if you want of course…”

~ His eyes flashed with shock, before his mouth slowly grew into a smile, his hand coming around to pull you into his apartment by the small of your back

~ “Fuck, sweets, I thought you’d never ask”

I hoped you liked it! Please comment and reblog, or else I'm going to cry :D

#bts x reader #jin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #yandere jin x reader #yandere yoongi x reader #yandere hoseok x reader #yandere namjoon x reader #yandere jimin x reader #yandere taehyung x reader #yandere jungkook x reader #bts scenarios #bts drabbles #series: love amour aur pyaar #ev's writing

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marxy-06 · 4 months

Text

Favorites Fic Recs 5

Thank you to all the amazing writers <3

Kim Seokjin

Broken happy ever after (@taexual)

Of bears and bonds (@yoonia)

Switched (@i-am-baechu)

Scale (@shina913)

Kyoho (@jeonqkooks)

End of the line (@kookslastbutton)

Min Yoongi

Only for you (@beautifulfuckup99)

Fix you (@casuallyimagining)

The one that I adore (@gimmethatagustd)

Man of the year (@raplinesmoon)

Wishes (@i-am-baechu)

Set me free (@casuallyimagining)

Jung Hoseok

Flower (@readyplayerhobi)

Dinner plans cancelled (@souryoong)

Close call (@xjoonchildx)

Bloom (@7deadlysinsfics)

Kim Namjoon

My girl (@beautifulfuckup99)

Like couples do (@jinkookspencil)

Face sitting (@euphoricfilter)

B.S standards (@katnisspeetaprim)

Pregnancy insecurity (@katnisspeetaprim) NAMJOON

Park Jimin

Love Bug (@httpjeon)

Photograph (@i-am-baechu)

Wanna watch a sex tape (@gimmethatagustd)

Into you (@phenomenalgirl9)

Kim Taehyung

Still waters run deep (@btsmosphere)

Something blue (@moni-logues)

A human touch (@snackhobi)

Let love be enough (@jingabitch)

My tears ricochet (@augustbutwinter)

Goodbye (@jjksblackgf)

Wanna watch a sex tape (@gimmethatagustd)

That Irish barista (@i-am-baechu)

Race to your heart (@jjkeverlast)

Loverboy (@kookslastbutton)

Jeon Jungkook

Do it right (@rerefundslocals)

Gold is dull (@kookluvre) -> (hasn't been updated in awhile but def worth the read)

Best friends (@trivia-yandere)

Need you (@archivedkookie)

Across a crowded room (@monimonimoon)

A little reminder (@beautifulfuckup99)

University superstar (@jungkookstatts)

But we loved too young (@jl-micasea-fics)

Skirt chasers (@1kook)

Big enough for both of us (@btsmosphere)

Bodywork (@angeljeonjk97)

Deep in the woods (@angllicjk)

Angel in the marble (@venusjeon)

Was it better (@gyukookswhore)

97 (@rrjkive)

Lemon sherbet (@extravaguk)

The m-word (@hansolmates)

Head over skates (@mercurygguk)

Gun (@kooeater)

Café o lay (@taesspark)

Guilty pleasures (@kookslastbutton)

Purple car (@fruitmins)

Until my last breath (@iamjungkooked)

Don't want your sympathy (@sketchguk)

Couples shoot (@katnisspeetaprim)

What we need (@jungkookstatts)

Praising (@neo-percs)

Show you what devotion is (@euaphoric)

Pluto (@katnisspeetaprim)

Cherry candy (@bonny-kookoo)

OT7

Before I leave you (@hollyhomburg)

#bts namjoon #bts x reader #fanfic #fanfic rec #bts fanfic #writing #bts taehyung #bts jhope #bts #bts jungkook #bts jimin #seokjin #jimin #taehyung #namjoon #bangtan #bts army #min yoongi #bts jung hoseok

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uarmymoonlight · 4 months

Text

after the afterparty

pairing: nerd!namjoon X ex-mean girl!reader

genre: frenemies (? sorta) to lovers, rivals to lovers, college!au, one-shot, angsty, smut,

summary: after a night of partying with your (now ex-)classmates, namjoon finds you alone in the kitchen and unspoken feelings and desires come rushing to the surface

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, reader’s a bit of an asshole, namjoon kinda idolizes her, lots of untold backstory for the #angst, tit/nipple play, biting (lightly)

words: a little over 4.8k

taglist: @kyglover @luaspersona

crossposted on AO3: here.

image by @/chimigraphic on twitter

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You finally take a deep breath of the cold night air. Eyes closed, beer in hand, hip leaned in against the kitchen counter. Another deep breath.

This night took a real toll on you: 2 hours of pre-game plus 4 of partying and an unbelievable 2 and a half more of after-partying, all in the name of socialization and redemption. But it’s over now.

You let the silence embrace and erase you. The outdoor lights paint the room with a faint blue and the only sound is a car passing by and the sink leaking. It’s just you there. The rest have gone to bed – their own or someone else’s - or back to their own airbnbs. But, as tired as you are, you stay there in the kitchen. This last moment of silence before you leave this place for good. And these long nearly 9 hours of today won’t matter. The people at the party won’t matter. Not even that award-stealing, headache-inducing, infuriating, dimpled assh–

A noise stops your thoughts. You turn to your right to see Namjoon kneeling down to catch the water bottle he’d dropped.

“Namjoon.”

“Hey”, he licks his lips “I...I thought everyone else was gone or sleeping.”

“So did I.”

A beat of silence goes by and then another, a longer one. You could almost laugh at the silence that sets between the two of you. Had this happened a while back, you would’ve already told him to fuck off and probably insulted him somehow. Then again, had this been back then, he would’ve been vexing you endlessly by refusing to let the silence just be, doing that nervous back-and-forth on his heels he used to do all the time and talking your ear off.

This isn’t back then, however. So now, you’re just looking at each other.

Alright. You said you’d change your attitude, didn’t you? Here’s a test for you to prove you did. Your chance to do something to Namjoon you’ve never done before: be nice.

“Congratulations.”

He scoffs, incredulous.

“You’re congratulating me?”

You can’t say you’re surprised he asked. There was a time you’d rather have eaten your own two feet before ever complimenting Namjoon to his face, a time you’d have done anything to not stay in the same room as him. Let alone just the two of you together.

“Well, I did tell you I would, when you deserved it” you remind him “You won the academic decathlon, graduated top of the class, and you got the girl. You deserve it now, so there you go: congratulations.” you raise your glass slightly to him.

He hesitates.

“I got a girl.”

You wait for him to elaborate. He doesn’t. You keep staring at him with those piercing eyes of yours. He hates them. Hates how much he’s always been so aware of them. Hates how much he’s always been so desperate to understand the emotions behind them. But, most of all, he hates how beautiful he finds them, how much they make him feel so on the spotlight, so special.

He watches you open and close your mouth. Once. Twice. You’re speechless? Now here’s one for the history books, he thinks. You’re probably debating whether you should ask him or not about what he meant by that. And God, he hopes you do. He wants you to ask him, he so desperately does. He needs you to want to know what he means. He needs this opening to tell you exactly why Seulgi isn’t the girl, he needs this one chance to tell you what he’s been holding in for so long, the feelings that are always on the tip of his tongue.

Namjoon waits for you to ask. But you don’t. You look away.

You can’t ask him, because that question leads to things you’ve already shut the door of, a long time ago. And he should know better than to try and get it out of you. But he’s Namjoon. Namjoon, always the hopeful idealist, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. And you, always the scoffing pessimist, the egotistical cold bitch. So, you take the coward’s route and when you look back at him all you say is:

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” So there’s no point in talking about any of this, is what you don’t say.

“I know.”

Again, neither of you talk for a while. In silence, you simply look at each other. The air between you is tense with something neither could name exactly. Namjoon breaks the silence this time.

“Dance with me?” he extends his left hand to you.

“There’s no music.”

He shrugs and insists “Dance with me.”

You look at his still stretched hand towards you and it’s almost a perfect flashback of that one night so many nights ago. When he had also reached out for you, in ways more than just physical. When Namjoon had laid out so much of himself for you and all you did was spit it back at him.

“You owe me this one”, he says. Maybe he’s an ass for insisting on this, but God knows you actually do owe him at least this one. You do, and you know it. “You didn’t even talk to me at my party earlier”, he adds.

And it’s just another time that you realize he really is a much better person than you are for using the party as leverage, and not…Well, everything else you’ve done. It’s something you’re not sure you would’ve done for him.

You softly put down your beer on the counter, looking at it while you do so. Anything to not look at him just yet. You need those extra few seconds to…You don’t know what for. To prepare? To breathe? It isn’t to think, surely. Maybe that’s it. You need to not think about what you’re going to do. When the can touches the counter, you spin it a couple times, staring at the label.

With your peripheral vision, you can see Namjoon’s offering hand still out. Again, you remember another moment, a long time ago, when he offered his hand too. You had refused it. God, you suck at this not thinking thing. Andnd you suck at not being a coward.

You finally peel away from the counter and walk quietly to namjoon. You stare at his hand and, taking your time, you slide yours in it. Feeling every inch of his skin until both of your hands are completely touching, and when that happens, you feel a breath you didn’t realize you were holding come out. You feel a bit pathetic for it. The worst part is you hear Namjoon doing the same thing.

Namjoon is smart, you know that. You and everyone who saw him beat you at everything academic-related year after year after year. He’s smart. But he’s not truly smart. If he were truly smart, you think, he’d pull away right now. If he were, he’d turn his back away from you for good.

He doesn’t. He slides his hand from yours to your elbow, caressing your forearm on his way and pulls you in. His fingers on his right hand brush against you, starting with your fingers and going up until he settles it on your waist, pulling you in even more. Not letting go of your elbow, he places your hand on his chest and you complete the action by sliding both your arms around his neck.

You still haven’t looked in his eyes, focusing on his shirt. Actually, his chest. You’d rather not think about that.

You feel his presence all around you, feel him on your skin even though very few parts of you are really touching the other. You feel his head close to yours, your feet almost touching. The two of you stand locked in place.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes?” His voice is little more than a breath.

“Move.”

You hear him scoff lightly and get brave enough to glance at him through your eyelashes. Only a shadow of a smile rests on his lips, so his famous dimples are nowhere in sight.

As he begins to lead you, that quivering bravery you felt moments ago vanishes. You go back to staring at his shirt while embarrassingly hoping you don’t step on his toes. You'd count your steps, instead of just hoping you're doing it right. That is if you knew how to do that. Shouldn't there be music in order to properly count the steps? Isn't that how it works? You count by following the beat of the song, right? But, then again, there's supposed to be music when you dance regardless of the counting. God, what a stupid idea. Why did you agree to this anyway?

Namjoon pulls you even closer, joining your chests and your thighs together as you draw in a surprised breath and let out a sigh. Now, your nose brushes against his lips.

Ah, right. That is why.

You really can't do this not-thinking thing. Product of years over worrying about your social status and over analyzing every interaction you had to make sure you came out on top. It’s actually a lot of hard work being the main top bitch in the area.

Briefly, you wonder what people would think if they saw you right now in his arms. You wonder what Namjoon thinks of this whole scene.

And what an interesting scene it is: the dim lights covering you like a blanket while you quietly embrace, a dance that is little more than just swaying softly to a soundtrack of whispers and wind. You can see your pale reflections on the window. The image akin to that of ghost lovers lost to time, only united by the sound of emptiness when time is frozen. Maybe is because of that image of emptiness and stillness, and because you already decided to leave that you tell him:

"I'm sorry.” It's said so softly, so hopelessly, that Namjoon nearly misses it.

There’s so much he could say to that and yet…He puts a hand on your chin and pulls you away just enough to look at your face. With your eyebrows frowning and your beautiful eyes wide scanning him, you look as scared as Namjoon feels. Namjoon traces your face with his thumb: eyebrow to temple to cheek to your lips. This last caress makes your lips part a little, enough for only a thread of air to pass, and eyes flutter.

There’s so much he could say, but there's only one thing he wants.

Your lips touch in a strong kiss. A kiss that is like that first leap of courage into a cold pool. You know the water will be cold at first, but you also know that if you don't jump, you'll never get into the pool. And just like in a pool, neither of you breathe for a while. Just like in a pool, Namjoon is terrified of that first splash of water, scared you'll push him away.

The kiss ends and you catch your breaths. Not for long, though. You grab the lapel of his jacket to pull him in again and relock your lips. Now, you make sure it's a proper kiss, you take your time learning how to kiss him and how you two fit. After a swirl of your tongue, you feel his hand on your lower back put more pressure and pin you closer. Your legs open slightly and he puts one of his legs a little in between yours, his crotch rubbing against yours as you kiss. As you sink your finger deeper into his jacket, Namjoon firmly grabs the back of your neck and presses his hold. The shivers all over your body and your moan encourage him.

A surprised gasp leaves you when Namjoon, with one hand grabbing your neck and the other around your waist, moves you until your back is against a wall. The cold surface touching your back provides a small break from the hot and heavy air between you and him. A small part of you - the part that isn’t busy kissing him - is a little shocked at how strong he got. When you first met him, he was all height and bones. You’d heard he’d started going to the gym some semesters ago, but you sorta refused to really acknowledge it and, when your eyes and body acknowledged that independently, your brain made a conscious choice to ignore it. At the moment, you don’t have much brainpower to make any choice besides making out with him.

Namjoon likes to think he's self aware enough to not be an arrogant prick, but he can't stop the feeling of pride taking over him as you touch him with such clear appreciation of his new physique. He responds to it with his own devotion, intoxicated by your trademark perfume, the same lingering scent that would always tempt him whenever you left a room.

You feel his toned chest and your hands travel along his strong shoulders. And you feel a bit stupid, a bit clichè, because you put your hands on his upper arms and squeeze his biceps. Kinda like in those stupid movies where the sweet bimbo cheerleader fakes coyness as she fawns over the totally not humble quarterback’s muscles. Okay, so, yeah, maybe it’s a bit eye-rolling worthy, but God! his biceps! If his biceps weren’t enough…his thighs! His thighs are huge and strong and you think you’re not really ashamed of how you gladly let him put one of them between your legs. Also, you don’t care that you two are unabashedly dry humping each other, like two horny inexperienced teenagers. Well, suppose that goes with the cheerleader-quarterback thing. Besides, Namjoon certainly doesn’t seem to mind, guiding and motivating your movements by stroking your ass.

Jesus, dry humping someone should not feel this good. You keep going, more, more and more, feeling yourself get wetter with each move, feeling Namjoon get harder each time you feel his dick brushing against your lower belly. He lifts your leg and repositions himself at a better angle so it isn’t just the friction that’s doing it for you, but the hard pressure of his dick too making you nearly lose your mind in need of him - and he's barely touched you. How come you're affected by him like this?

You open your eyes to see him leaving messy kisses along your skin, making his way down your neck past your collarbones. When he reaches your cleavage he makes it a point to maintain eye contact and lazily kisses the space between your breasts. Again, Namjoon isn't particularly conceited, still, he shows a boastful smirk at your eyes rolling back in pleasure. He continues his way down your body, his hands trailing its contours and feeling the soft silk of your dress he wished you weren’t wearing.

To him, you’re beautiful like a queen: proud, imposing, and powerful. You’ve always been. He thinks it’s your sharp, intelligent eyes, your intent look, but it’s also your straight and confident posture. Looking at you at the moment, though he can still see that spark of intelligence, your eyes are heavy-lidded. Your posture is not insecure, it’s solicitous, fully ready to give in to him. But you’re still you and because you’re still you that there’s still a hint of royal impatience in the way you press yourself against his body, demanding more out of him.

The vision of him going down past your belly button makes you take a breath and arch your back in anticipation. You'd sooner kill yourself before saying you felt butterflies in your stomach, but you do feel something. It takes all your little sense of self control to not grab his hair and lead him straight to where you want him. You don’t have a chance to actually do this since he’s already dipping even lower, eyeing you with malice and desire and nearly driving you crazy with need. You feel your nipples harden when he strokes your folds through your panties with his thumb before pushing the clothing aside.

“Namjoon”, you moan.

He lets out a low growling sound at that and begins exploring your pussy. Fingers and tongue take turns touching and tasting you. His fingers open and stretch you while his mouth sucks on your clit. You think you mumble something along the lines of “yes” and “there” a few times. Your fingers curl in response and your hips move following his rhythm. He licks and sucks and tastes and touches and strokes and you feel yourself closer to cumming with each movement.

Once more, you catch a glimpse of yourselves in a window. The sight is one of pure depravation. You see how dishelved you look, your lips swollen from the kisses and hair an entangled mess on your head, dress hiked up as one of your legs is proped up on Namjoon’s shoulder, a hand of his squeezing your thigh.You’re a bit impressed at how he’s still at it, when your last few hook-ups seemed to want to eat you out as quickly as possible only to say they did it. You’ve never really seen a man who seems so happy to eat pussy like Namjoon. You watch your reflection for a little bit longer while he continues edging you.

Enough. You need all of him now.

“Namjoon”, you say breathlessly. It was a command, but your mind can only think about his tongue on your pussy. You try again. You forcefully pull his head back “Namjoon.”

He hisses a bit due to the force of you pulling his hair.

“Yes, Your Highness?” you squint your eyes in annoyance hearing the mocking nickname he gave you so long ago. You hated the nickname, because you knew it wasn’t a compliment, just a veiled insult of his. However, hearing it while he’s on his knees for you…not bad, you think, not bad at all. Especially when his already deep voice sounds deeper and raspy, the words coming out with a drawl.

“Bedroom. Now.”

He’s up in a second, leading you upstairs. The way up is confusing and chaotic, with the two of you nearly running but barely letting go of each other, hot and lewd kisses exchanged while you walk. You have no idea how Namjoon finds the right door. He stops kissing you only to open the bedroom’s door, which you quickly shut behind you. He tries to put you against it, but you flip him and press him to the door instead.

For a moment, you only look at him. Spreading your hands on his muscular chest, you listen to your heavy breathing.

“Y/N.”

You kiss him again. You put your lips on his neck and take your time there, busying your hands with taking off his jacket and then unbottuning his shirt. When you finish, you stroke his bulge through his pants. Namjoon lets out a hungry hiss that has you rubbing your thighs together. The point of stroking him was to tease Namjoon, you wanted to see if you could get him so worked up as he’d done to you. Unfortunately for you, you find out that that’s a double edged sword and it’s sharper end is pointed towards you, because the more you touch him the more you feel yourself get hotter. Having him in your hand only makes your mouth water.

There’s only one thing you can think of right now. You pull his member out of his pants, stroking the full length once before you turn him and push him down on the bed. Namjoon watches you crawl onto the bed and fully take off his pants and underwear. It’s not slow and sweet or careful. Every motion of yours is aggressive and fast, eyes gleaming with a hungry determination Namjoon is sure is mirrored in his own eyes. You’re beautiful, so so beautiful. On all fours over him like a fucking lioness ready for her meal. Just looking at you like this makes him even harder.

Maybe the gentlemanly thing would be to stop and tell you there’s no need to repay the favor of earlier. But, well, maybe Namjoon isn’t a gentleman, after all. And he’d surely never deny you of anything, not when you so clearly want him. The idea of you wanting him just a fraction of how much he wants you is the best feeling in the world. Or rather, the second best. Because the first is definitely the feeling of your mouth on him.

You take his full length in your mouth, coating his dick with your saliva. Namjoon watches as you alternate between teasing kitten licks on his cockhead and properly sucking him off, your hands griping the base of his cock. God, you’re not simply beautiful, you’re gorgeous. He fights against the urge to roll back in his eyes in order to watch you going down on him. Your hair is thrown around, some of it tickling his thigh while your head keeps bobbing up and down, your makeup is smeared and your dress is a crumpled mess. And you’re gorgeous.

You make eye contact with him with your lips still wrapped around him and he thinks he’s gonna die. Or cum. Probably both. Maybe it’s his dick talking, but he thinks he’d die happy right now.

“Tell me what you like”, you tell him.

“You.”

The immediate blurted out answer shocks you a bit. You scoff.

“You really can’t keep it in.”

In the split second you don’t move, Namjoon starts to deflate. He ruined everything. He waits for you to get up and leave.

You don’t.

You lean forwards and kiss him. The kiss is nothing more than just the press of your lips together. You ignore the still lingering doubt in Namjoon’s eyes. Reaching past him, you go through the drawers on the nightstand. As you look for condoms, your tits are hanging above Namjoon’s head and he peppers kisses on them. After a few seconds, you get the condom out the drawer.

Namjoon tries taking it out of your hands.

“Give me, I can do it.”

“No”, you stop him. “It’s fine.”

You kiss him lightly on the cheek. Namjoon has to stop for a bit. You’d never been so…soft with him before. Not even in those few months long ago when you had been something akin to friends.

Not wasting any time, you put the condom on his cock. You quickly take your panties off and guide his lenght to where you want it. You two stare at each other as you sink yourself on his cock. Moaning at how he stretches you out. You love how full he makes you feel. He’s so big, his cock makes you feel so good. Having him in your mouth was one thing, having him inside you was heavenly. You place a hand on Namjoon’s chest.

“Lay down.”

Because you personally believe feminism is about having a buff hot nerdy guy under you while you get yourself off.

Head on the pillows, he watches you move your hips, leading him in a slow sensual rhythm. Moaning, your head rolls back in pleasure, mouth open to help you breathe better. The two of you pick up the pace, you bouncing on his cock a little then reverting back to grinding.

“Y/N, your dress. Please.”

Understanding what he means, you pull your dress above your head and toss it to the side. With both hands holding your hips, he only gives your tits a dazed glare. He keeps watching when you take your own hand and play with your tits. Namjoon growls and thrusts his hips upwards harder when you lick two of your fingers and use them to play with your nipples, caressing and pinching them, your palms massaging the rest of the soft flesh.

“Like that?”

The raspiness of your voice, that sparkle of meanness in your eyes, that one raised eyebrow on your face…it’s all almost too much for Namjoon. You are gorgeuous. And he’s so impossibly hard.

“Yeah.”

The word almost doesn’t come out. You shake your head and giggle at him. Only you. Only you could be bouncing on a guy’s cock, suck him off, have him eat you out, and, with just a little giggle, make the guy blush. Still, if feels so good to make you laugh. Even if it’s at him. So good.

Almost beats being inside of you. Almost.

Namjoon flips you and lays you down on the bed. Immediately after you hit the mattress, he’s already on you, mouth licking and sucking on you tit. His pace gets faster, more franctic, more desperate. Hitting deeper and deeper. When he hits a sweet spot, you moan louder.

“Yeah, there. More. More. Yes. Yeah,” you repeat the words like a mantra.

“So beautiful”, he tells you. “Almost there, baby.”

God, the pet name. “Can’t take it anymore”, you say.

“Yeah, you can, baby. You can take it all.”

He knows you can. You - open wide for him, hair spread on the pillows like a halo, nipples hardened for him, pussy clenching around him - can take it. You are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

On top of you, Namjoon looks like a fucking beast, in the best way possible. Eyebrows furrowed and barring his teeth, his honey skin sprinkled with sweat. A drop of it slips from his forehead and falls on your cheek and you finally cum. Moaning his name over and over. He put his mouth again on your tit, gritting your nipple between his front teeth. With a final moan out of you, Namjoon empties himself inside the condom.

For a few seconds, you don’t move, just listen to each other breathing. Namjoon feels himself getting softer inside you and, on the back of his mind, he dreads the moment he pulls out from you. Dreads the moment you realise whatever you were doing was over, and so was your business with him.

Still, he can’t stay inside you forever. He pulls out.

He busies himself with taking the condom off him and throwing it away while he notices you get tissues from the nightstand to clean yourself up. He mentally kicks himself for not doing it for you, but then again, maybe you don’t want him doing this for you. That’s another kind of intimacy you haven’t given him the greenlight to do. Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts.

“Where’s the bathroom?”

You put your dress back on and his heart aches. “First door to the right. Hey, uh - “ he begins before you leave “I’ll go get water. Do you want some?”

You shake your head and leave the room.

Silently, he puts his underwear and pants back on and goes to the kitchen, trying all the way down to not think of you.

He stays a little bit longer than needed in the kitchen. Even after everything, he still can’t feel sure of anything with you. There’s still that ugly feeling of inadequacy whispering in his head that he shouldn’t get his hopes up. Tonight was just a fluke.

Namjoon goes back to the bedroom expecting you to not be there anymore. He imagines you jumping out of the bathroom window to escape him or sneaking off through the roof. If he wasn’t busy feeling sorry for what you two could’ve been, he’d probably laugh at the scenarios he made up.

When he opens the bedroom door, though, he finds you there. Curled up under the sheets on one side of the bed. Your eyes are closed and your face is serene. He hesitates.

“You’re not gonna sleep?”

You ask without opening your eyes. Namjoon doesn’t answer, but he climbs onto bed behind you. He doesn’t touch you, but he’s close enough that you feel his warmth beside you and his breathing on your neck.

A while of silence goes by. He’s not sure if you’re already asleep. However, there’s one more thing he needs to say to you, even if you don’t hear it. Something he was too much of a coward to say before.

“Stay.”

You open your eyes. You’re careful to make no move to alert him you’re still up.

You think about his request. Stay. Part of you wants to, part of you - a very small and recent part of you that is hopeful, a part that is only there because Namjoon coaxed it out of you - says you could stay. Stay. You could stay with him. Stay in his bed. In this city. Stay…

Like you said, though, that is a very small part of you. The biggest one is a coward.

When Namjoon wakes up to an empty side of the bed the next day, he instantly knows what happened.

You left.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

author’s note: my first attempt at writing smut (at least full on smut, star to finish), hope it doesn’t suck :DDDD any and all feedback/comments are appreciated

#kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon imagine #kim namjoon smut #kim namjoon fanfic #rm x reader #rm imagine #bts fic #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #my writing #kim namjoon #namjoon #rm #bts

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jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 5 months

Text

Deadline - BTS OT7 CEO AU Chapter 15

This is what I call the fluff before the fall, there are a few events mentioned here that aren't in previous chapters but are in canon drabbles/pseudo drabbles, so I recommend you read this and this before the chapter below. 4.6k words

Hope you enjoy 💜

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Seven boyfriends, seven days a week, might sound like a lot for one person to handle, especially since now you were sexually active with them. It was as if you unleashed Pandora's box but instead of a plague that kills the world, it was seven sexy men that didn’t want to let you go to sleep alone.

“Min Yoongi, why are you in my bed on a weekday?” Your eyes narrow in suspicion at the man staring at the ceiling. You just walked out of the ensuite in nothing but your robe, if he thought this was easy pickings he had another thing coming.

“Relax kitten, I just wanted to talk,” he sighs, turning onto his side so he can face you, a soft but sad smile on his face that made you want to climb into bed with him and cuddle, so you did.

“You’re not here to break the rules?” you tease, arms wrapping around his middle when he embraces you. It earns you a chuckle at least.

“Because that worked out well for me last time,” he shakes his head. “You and your rules.”

“Who would’ve thought the roles would reverse huh,” you say absentmindedly, trying not to laugh.

“What do you mean?” He frowns, seemingly confused, he was never an enforcer of the ‘rules’, that was you and Namjoon.

“Well you always went against them while Joonie lived by them, and now…”

Well now Namjoon had a new lease on life, where before he would always be militant with those broad shoulders of responsibility that carried the weight of everything, now he was a lawless man, and your biggest deviant. Since that morning you were both late to your respective workplaces, the one where he ate you out for breakfast and then fucked you against the counter, the troublesome trio became the least of your problems. Now it was Namjoon that tried to keep you up late on a work night until you had to force him out of the room. Namjoon who tried to sneak into the shower with you in the mornings, pretending he was going to behave and be good, “we’ll save water baby girl” he tried one morning. Seriously, did he think you were stupid? Namjoon who wanted to hold your hand all morning before you walked out the door for work, the others yelling at him that he was hogging you, while you tried to do your morning routine one handedly (his grip was strong). But he didn’t care, the others had gotten away with more in his eyes, it was his turn.

“And now you’ve unleashed the monster in Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi finishes your thoughts for you, shaking his head before sighing, “can’t blame you too much, it was always there.”

Too many times this week he’s had to be the level headed one, he’s sure it's just a phase but it needed to end quickly or Yoongi was going to get a headache.

“It’s been a week, why is he still mad at me and not you?” Yoongi grumbles into your hair.

“I had sex with him,” you deadpan, shrugging before you bury your giggles in his chest.

“Ah this is why Jimin calls you a vixen,” he thinks aloud playfully, making you pull back to look at him in question, did he?

“Well that’s a new one…” Your arms come around his neck, looking up at him longingly, waiting for him to figure out what you wanted without asking for it.

“No it isn’t, he just calls you that behind your back, when you’re being too enticing for your own good,” he kisses your nose.

Your cheeks burn as you scoff, ‘enticing’, what was wrong with them?

“Like right now,” he calls you out, your favourite gummy smile beams endearingly at you when you gasp in mock outrage.

“I’m not doing anything right now,” you deny, ready to bicker with him.

“Hmmmmm,” his gaze changes dangerously, eyes almost mocking you, “So you’re not asking me for a kiss right now?”

You scrunch your nose, pressing your lips together to hold back a smile, dammit he could see right through you.

“No I’m not,” you shake your head, holding your head proudly. “You’re reading into things.”

“I don’t think so, Kitten,” he hums again. “I can read you perfectly.”

This time round he accepts defeat easily in your playful little squabble, lips pressed against yours and you both smile.

—

Kim Jongin was a flirt, a shy one at times, but when the women bundled around him he couldn’t help but flirt, hopeless romantic and all. You however indulged him in no such thing, and he couldn’t help wondering why. He wasn’t serious, he was playing around, everyone knew it, but you didn’t even acknowledge it.

He even called Jimin to ask him if something was wrong with you and after about a minute of silence on the other end from his friend, where he thought the line disconnected and called his name repeatedly, he got lectured for an hour. His friend and business rival went on and on about how he shouldn’t pursue you, and you were all business and professional and … well he stopped paying attention after that. But it did make him curious. It was almost a challenge, the cliche of forbidden fruit.

“Y/n you’re practically glowing today,” he says in passing, interrupting your conversation with your supervisors.

You stop speaking for a second, looking at him briefly before resuming whatever it was you were saying. Heechul hides a snicker poorly, covering it up with a cough, not even paying attention to you.

“Aren’t you going to tell me how good I look?” Jongin presses, pout on his face, his eyes drooping in faux sadness.

You almost glare at him, and he kind of likes it, the fire in your eyes. Why did Jimin warn him against you? Surely he would want to set up his friend with such a woman, or at least keep her to himself.

“Oh Director Kim you look so handsome today,” Kyunghoon says dramatically, Heechul unable to stop his laughter this time. It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes.

“Somethings wrong with Y/n if she doesn’t see how handsome our favourite director is,” Kyunghoon continues, trying to act cute. You look at him disgustedly, what a suck up, and that was coming from you, the world renowned teacher’s pet.

“I heard she went on a date with Mark and then ghosted him,” Heechul stage whispers to his boss as if it’ll win him favours. “I don’t think Y/n is good enough for our precious director.”

You lost count of how many times your eyes rolled in annoyance, it wasn’t a reflex you could help otherwise you would’ve thought twice before doing it in front of your boss and two supervisors.

“It wasn’t a date,” you grunt, frowning at the paperwork. It was bad enough your boyfriends thought the same, and you sincerely paid for that. You shudder involuntarily, skin starting to heat up as you try to push the memories of those nights out of your head since you were at work.

“Someone should’ve told Mark,” Heechul mutters under his breath to the other two.

—

“Should we sell the company?” Namjoon breaks the silence in the office with words so off-kilter that Jimin falls out of his chair. The lead CEO is practically bouncing in his seat, wanting the day to finish so he could go home and see you, maybe convince you to break some more rules.

“Who are you?” Jin asks, watching the CEO with distrust.

Kim Namjoon, selling the company he got off the ground with his bare hands? Unheard of. Impossible. Pigs would learn to fly first.

“Hyung!” Jimin whines, picking himself off the floor. “Please, come back to your senses! What’s happened to you?”

The CEO shrugs, looking at his desk as the words leave his mouth.

“I’m happy,” he grins, the others looking at him dumbfounded before they groan.

“You’d sell it and then cry,” Hoseok says, knowing his friend all too well, getting back to the papers on his desk before adding, “Sunshine would kill you.”

“If you sell the company I would never forgive you,” Jin adds. “I’m far too young to retire.”

“Plus you’re only saying this so you can spend more time with Noona right?” Jungkook continues, “but could you ever imagine Bunny giving up work?”

“You’d sit at home bored out of your mind,” Yoongi grumbles, agreeing with the maknae.

“We could always convince her,” Namjoon suggests, making the others laugh in disbelief.

“Have you met Kitten?” Yoongi grins, “the word stubborn doesn’t do her justice.”

Yoongi looks up from his desk when there’s no reply, Namjoon staring daggers at his head. Oh shit, well he walked into this one.

“You managed to convince her just fine,” he accused, making all of them groan again.

“Can we not do this again?” Jin sighs, closing his eyes, if he had this conversation again his brain would explode trying to escape it.

“Please can we let this go,” Jimin almost yells, they all had enough of the silly war Namjoon was trying to begin with Yoongi. “Jealousy is an ugly trait you know.”

“Who’s jealous?” Namjoon contests, not sounding believable at all. “It’s about principle.”

“And the principle is Angel and Hyung did nothing wrong,” Jimin uncharacteristically sticks up for Yoongi, even the usual stoic CEO was shocked. “We were all dating at the time, they were both well within their rights, even if it was at work.”

Namjoon looks away dejected, knowing Jimin was right but wanting to hold on to the petty anger.

“I mean why Yoongi hyung is an acceptable question to ask, but Angel doesn’t have the best taste in men does she?” Jimin smirks, teasing him.

“She’s dating you as well, Park Jimin,” Yoongi scoffs in reply, but the feeling of gratitude towards the younger one doesn't dampen.

“It’s inappropriate at the workplace,” Namjoon finally mumbles in response, making Jin roll his eyes. “What if they got caught?”

“You’re the head of the company and you didn’t catch them in the act,” Hoseok mocks with a smirk, an eye brow rising. “And you were in the room with them.”

A knock on the door interrupts their conversation, Jackson looking unusually cautious as he enters. He greets them all with a bow, approaching Namjoon’s desk.

“Depyunim…” he hesitates, putting the envelope in front of him. “There’s another one.”

Namjoon’s carefree disposition disappears, instead Jackson sees a bull about to charge, the fear instilled in him so sudden it takes effort not to move out of his line of sight.

“How many is that now?” Jin asks quietly, the atmosphere in the office now dead. The youngest three looking at their hyung’s in question.

“It doesn’t matter,” Namjoon seethes before commanding Jackson to burn it like every time before. The secretary never did, instead he always put it in the shredder and disposed of it in the confidential waste bins.

He nods, leaving with the envelope and whatever contents it held that shook the four oldest CEOs. As curious as Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung were, there was something about the murderous intent on their leader's face that stopped them from asking what was going on.

“How much longer are we going to hide this,” Yoongi says, knowing how much you hated secrets.

“We don’t need to worry her,” Namjoon dismisses the idea. He was content with pretending the problem didn’t exist, they all were. But how much longer could they ignore a mountain and pretend it was a molehill.

“Maybe we should air on the side of caution and read what he’s said at least,” Hobi suggests.

“We don’t give criminals the time of day Hoseok,” Namjoon replies. “Nothing he has to say is worth our time, or Y/n’s.”

“But he’s incessant,” Jin states. “We thought he’d give up but it's been weeks Namjoon.”

The maknaes all watch the back and forth quietly, trying to decipher what the hell was going on.

“I don’t want to read his threats or blackmail, he has no power where he is.”

“Where we put him,” Yoongi scoffs, “he’s lost everything, which means we shouldn’t underestimate him, there’s nothing he won’t do.”

“What can he do?” Namjoon yells back exasperated. They were pretending for so long he almost forgot about the whole issue.

“Well we won’t know unless we read the letters,” Yoongi responds calmly, knowing Namjoon’s emotions were all over the place. The anger was forefront, their leader usually was able to keep his cool in all aspects of his life, or at least use his emotions productively, but this was different. This made his level-headed nature dissipate, until all that was left was a man desperate to hold onto what he had, regardless of the consequences.

—

“You wanted to see me sir,” you say as you enter the office. Kyungsoo was a good boss, he was a bit scary and blunt at times but always fair. The blank expression he usually wore gave nothing away, which is why everyone who ever interacted with him was always on edge.

“Y/n take a seat,” he says, gesturing to the chair in front of him. The other CEOs were nowhere to be seen.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, starting to worry since his expression seemed more serious than usual.

He sighs. That one action has your heart dropping, you fucked up somehow, you must have. What other reason could he have to call you in here?

“I want you to know I usually don’t pay attention to baseless rumours,” he states, looking you dead in the eyes almost apologetically. “However there is one going around about you that has put your colleagues at a bit of unrest.”

Oh fuck, this again? This again because Jongin tried to flirt with you in front of your supervisors? You press your lips closed before you can start filling the silence with explanations, the man hadn’t finished your accusation yet. Innocent until proven innocent, you were guilty of nothing.

“A few of your supervisors have come to us with the senseless belief that you are somehow a spy for bangtan corporations,” he pauses watching for your reaction, other than your eyes widening in shock and your lips parting, he doesn’t see anything damning there. “We had no reason to believe it, except one of the managers claims to have seen you at dinner with your old bosses.”

You can feel yourself start to sweat under his gaze, for all the reasons he is unaware of. You were not a spy, but yes you had a secret, one that could not get out no matter what.

“Director Do, I assure you, I am not a spy for any company,” you say sincerely, hoping he’ll believe you. “I’m close with my old colleagues and bosses after working with them for so long, but I can promise you I never talk about work.”

He takes in your explanation with silent eyes, you couldn’t read them and you hated it. When it was one of your seven boyfriends you could always read their moods and you missed that, you didn’t realise how much comfort it brought you until now. Even Yoongi, who was dubbed a stone by your old colleagues, you could always grasp his emotional state, this was foreign to you and as a proud teacher's pet it was making you anxious.

“Okay,” he nods, seemingly accepting of your honesty.

You breathe in relief, albeit mind in overdrive trying to think when this manager could’ve seen you. You all went out for dinner recently after coming back from Italy as a call for peace between the hyungs and maknaes. The so-called peace lasted for about ten seconds before they were arguing again about who was in the right and why actions were justified etc etc. It must have been then, the table was in a private VIP booth but they were loud, the noise levels could’ve caught anyone’s attention.

You’re dismissed from the office, head hanging to the ground in thought. Do you tell the others? You probably should so you can all collectively be more careful, but at the same time, you didn’t want to worry anyone.

—

In the end, you do decide to tell them. Your downcast expression when you got home gave away that something was wrong anyway, you didn’t have much choice after the probing from the maknaes. Yoongi begged you to tell them just to shut Jimin’s whining up. They didn’t like it, in fact they went a little too quiet for your liking, but they all agreed they would have to be more careful on dates out, which led to a compromise you weren’t all too happy about but hey, never look a gift horse in the mouth, whatever the hell that meant.

When you all started dating, Namjoon made a point about renting out whole places so you could all enjoy some privacy away from the public and you had vehemently refused. It was too costly, it wasn’t fair on other people that wanted to also visit the places of your dates, and it just didn’t seem normal. Now though, you had to give in, at least to keep your relationship under wraps.

“Is it really worrying you?” Jin asked you after you were silent for a while. Both of you were sharing a slice of cake between you on the dining table, you mind preoccupied.

“Yes,” you say honestly, sighing.

“Oh beautiful girl, I’m sorry,” he replies sincerely, pulling the leg of your chair so you’re closer to him. The action has your heart galloping despite your uneasiness, you’d never told them before but it was your favourite move. In every drama you watched, whenever the male lead did that you would just swoon, and when your boyfriend did it you swooned and died.

For the first time tonight you smile genuinely, shyly trying to hide your expression as you play around with the cake. Jin can see the change in your demeanour, he wanted you closer to comfort you but he can see it had other affects. He pulls it closer even still, his face a centimetre away from yours so he can feel it burning.

“Cute,” he comments quietly, but you hear him. Stupid racing heart, pumping blood to your face, why did you always have to heat up like a volcano whenever they did anything?

He chuckles to himself when you fail to reply, mouth opening as if you were going to but you couldn’t find the words. He kisses your flaming cheek, possibly making them ignite even more going off how your skin almost scorched his lips.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, “why are you suddenly being shy?”

You shake your head without looking at him, as if to say, ‘no reason’. He laughs at your antics, pleased that he’s managed to distract you from your worries for a little while. When you finally do turn to him, you've scooped up some of the cake on your fork, holding it out to him expectedly. Internally he could combust himself from the action, but he hides it well enough, as long as you don’t look at his ears. He doesn't break eye contact with you as he takes a bite, a little of the frosting still on his lips that catches your attention. You wait patiently for him to swallow before you lick it, turning back to the plate as if nothing had happened, leaving Jin spluttering in shock, his face blushing profusely as he tries to calm down. Oh what a dangerous girl you were.

—

“Did you just lock the door?” You laugh incredulously at Hoseok as he climbs into your bed. “You know there’s enough room for more than just us right?”

You’re only teasing but he’s not all that impressed.

“After all you were the one to say that was the reason I got the biggest bed,” you continue, laughing harder when he pins you with a hard gaze.

“I’m not sharing you tonight,” he states, pulling you closer under the covers before reaching over to turn off the lamp. “Plus you still owe me after halloween.”

You’re about to answer when you’re interrupted before you can begin, there’s a knock on the door but Hoseok stops you from answering it.

“What part of not sharing didn’t you understand sunshine?” he says seriously.

“Sorry,” you reply sheepishly, making him finally break into a smile.

There he is, your Sun like boyfriend, you always found it funny that he called you sunshine when he was literally made from it. People gravitated towards Hobi, he was full of character and laughter, you would have to be out of your mind to dislike him. Sure he was a little more… authoritative at work and in bed, but all in all he was one of the nicest people you had ever met, you were lucky to have him to yourself.

The knocking on the door turned into loud pounding, making his smile falter into a stern expression. Oh you felt sorry for whoever was on the other side if they unleashed Hoseok’s mean commander persona. You remember the days working with him, he accepted nothing less than perfection, it was a trait he carried home, but it did lead to a lot of self induced stress from time to time.

“Just ignore it,” you whisper, turning his face away from the door to you in the darkness, “they’ll get the message eventually.”

Unfortunately, whoever is on the other side has a death wish, the banging doesn’t stop for a second. You can feel the patience in Hobi wearing thin before he detonates.

“We’re trying to sleep in here!” He yells with a scowl, his head pounding to the same rhythm as the beats on the door.

For a moment it seems like he’s won, the silence welcomed as he settles back into your embrace, before the sound comes back harder and faster.

“I’m going to kill them,” he growls, about to get up before you tether yourself to him.

“Babe, they’ll give up eventually,” you reassure him, pecking his face wherever you could in the darkness, quelling his anger. You couldn’t see the look of love he was giving you, despite the incessant noise and now voices of demand and displeasure (surprisingly Namjoon and Jungkook, you were so sure it was Taehyung and Jimin), both of you lose yourself to soft touches and as the sound settled, you both fell asleep.

—

“Namjoon no,” you command like he was a misbehaving dog when he stands at the kitchen doorway staring at you with mischievous eyes.

He only grins, staring at your accusing finger like it was nothing, no threat behind it at all. You were on your way out, purposefully avoiding him like every morning since his new habit of trying to steal time you didn’t have. You shouldn’t have risked filling up your coffee travel cup, but the drinks at your new company sucked, they only had machines, no cafe no nothing, you were truly spoiled at bangtan.

Your train of thoughts distracts you from your current predicament until your boyfriend takes a step into the room towards you. Your eyes narrow, his hands behind him playfully, a carefree gait in his movements but his face was nothing less than predatory.

“I just wanted some coffee,” he shrugs innocently, but you know he’s up to no good. You eye the exit behind him, calculating how to manoeuvre your way out of here when he closes the distance. You try to slip past him but he blocks your movement with his arm clutching the counter behind you. His other hand takes your travel mug from your grasp, taking a sip before wincing at the burn.

“It’s hot you dumbass,” you try to snatch it back but he only places it out of reach on the counter beside you, before wrapping his arm around your waist.

“You're hot,” he flirts shamelessly, making your jaw drop and your skin crawl with heat. You were not used to this new carefree attitude they all adopted in disarming you with compliments, your heart couldn’t take it.

“No,” you draw out the vowel as if explaining something simple to someone stupid, “I’m going to be late, move.”

But he doesn’t, he just grins before stealing the kiss he’s been wanting since he woke up.

“Joonie,” you whine when your lips part with a smack, the grin he has on his face is devious as it is sexy. He plays with a strand of your hair avoiding that hard stare you had that told him to behave as he cornered you against the kitchen counter.

“So we’ll be a little late baby girl,” he kisses the corner of your jaw before sucking gently on the skin of your neck. You push him back firmly, face adopting Yoongi’s stoic mask while your heart flutters uncontrollably.

“One of us owns the company and can afford to turn up late,” you say, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“The other one had enough charm to win over 7 of her ex bosses and is cute enough to get away with murder,” he contends, the smirk on his face getting wider when you roll your eyes.

“So you want me to flirt with my new bosses to get myself out of trouble,” you say with a raised brow.

That wipes the smile off his face, he removed your hand from his chest pushing himself onto you, smothering his face in your neck as you giggle uncontrollably.

“That wasn’t funny,” he mumbles against your skin.

“I’m going to be late!” You complain while laughing, you feel him grin against you at the sound.

—

Immediately you can feel something wrong at work, the atmosphere was off but that was the least of your problems. Your coworkers weren’t being subtle in their whisperings and stares, but they were avoiding you and keeping their distance. Even your supervisors who usually confronted you about anything suddenly looked away when you saw them, muttering something between themselves and leaving before you could question it.

Your phone buzzes in your hand, why was Namjoon calling you? He knew better while you were at work. You let the call go to voicemail, trying to get your head into work mode but everyone’s attitude around you was making you anxious, your skin felt like a thousand millipedes were crawling all over it, or under it, your heart switching to fight or flight mode, ready to run. They were looking at you like… you couldn’t explain it, like you had done something awful.

Your phone buzzes again in your hand, this time a message, and when you read it that sinking feeling only gets worse.

Office romance

Namjoon : Y/n go home ASAP

Your heart was in your throat, you were trying not to hyperventilate. The murmurs around you suddenly get louder as a new figure approaches, splitting the sea of colleagues apart until he finds you.

“Miss L/n, a word please,” Kim Junmyeon had never looked so stone faced, his disposition was usually kind and gentle.

Without a word you follow him, putting your vibrating phone away in your pocket, you couldn’t look at it now.

As you walk the stares only get more intense, more curious, and you wonder what the hell was going on. Your brain starts going into overdrive, remembering the conversation between you and Kyngsoo merely days ago. Was this about being a spy?

You expect the CEO to take you to his office but he leads you to one of the meeting rooms, the other CEOs sitting solemnly not meeting your gaze. The screen on the 60 inch tv screen used for presentations was on, and paused, on a news channel.

“Care to explain this Y/n,” Junmyeon says, reaching for the remote and pressing play.

You really wished you listened to Namjoon.

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