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#*knj
hoseoksluna · 3 months
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BOOKWORMS | knj
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pairing: boyfriend!namjoon x reader
genre: smut; fluff
word count: 4.4k
summary: namjoon thinks of you when he reads a smut scene in his book.
warnings: boyfriend namjoon!!!, kimi namijoon reading, mentions of sex (riding), oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, the importance of consent, teasing, raw sex, breeding kink <3, big dick namu!!, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, joonie's chain dangling in ur face, tummy bulge, creampie, bruising, hickeys, aftercare:(
note: it took blood, sweat and tears (hehe) to write this and i'm so happy it's finally here!! i loved writing about namjoon. he's my whole soul and the entirety of my heart and i have to write abt him again soon. please take your time reading this and enjoy urself! let me know what you think in the comments mwah (or tell me anonymously in my inbox) and as i always say please like and if u want to - reblog, but i won't pressure u baby. love love you!!
side note: if you want to jump straight to the smut, it's right under the asterisks &lt;;3
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You revel, you truly do, in seeing your boyfriend in such a serene state of mind. 
Nose buried in a book, Namjoon pays no mind to the surroundings fleeting by him with each flutter of his eyelashes. It goes unnoticed by him, strangely so, how you tidy up the apartment you share. How you feed the two cats that chose you and him to be their human parents. How you fondle their soft ears. How you bend over the furniture to whisper ‘pspsps’ at them when they need a moment away from you just to see their round eyes look up at you stupidly. Namjoon usually observes these moments; this utmost natural behavior of yours. He draws strength from the homeliness of it all with each and every swell of his lungs. Needs it to survive. That is until he gets a hold of that one papery portal and sits comfortably on the couch, one ankle propped over the knee. Then, he ceases to exist in this world. 
You’re happy for him. Over time, you’ve come to find that you have a certain fondness for the way he remains stoic. Because you always know what kind of book he’s reading, a smile blossoms on its own over the line of your lips whenever your eye catches the sculpture-like look on his face. It’s like even if he let himself hold his breath, his consciousness would waver back to the earth and the wretched awareness that he’s here, among mortals and the unfair capitalist system aftermath, would stream in his bloodstream, poisoning his experience. It takes the leisure out of it and makes the bed for misery instead. He doesn’t like it. Hates it, in fact. It’s a necessity that he focuses, as he embarks on the journey, because he does it for you.
Namjoon confides in his feelings and his literature with you almost on a daily basis. On the same couch, with the same cats snoring faintly, their small bodies spilling over the perimeter of your tangled legs. Doesn’t matter if it’s his thigh or the curve of your hip. The animals always find a warm crook to doze in, eavesdropping in, with their curious little ears, on the conversations you’re having. Though you reckon they like the meat of his thigh the best. You do, too. Can’t really blame them. The same serenity that intimately knows the person of Namjoon perceives the person of you when he prompts you to rest your head on his lap while he brushes his book-kissed fingers through the silky waterfall of your hair. Thoroughly explains the intricacies of the plot he’s invested in to you. Describes the characters as if they’re real people he’s become acquainted with. They are real to you as you listen. As you ask additional questions and gaze up at his eyes just to catch that one body of a shooting star fiery hot in the glossiness of his eyes. As you wonder, openly, what will happen to them.
“I’ll tell you when they tell me.” He sunk the promise onto the smooth skin of your forehead with the pucker of his lips.
It’s how you discovered, in all seriousness, that the plaster of his stoicism breaks during these literary moments.
Various colors of emotion tug and twist his features, the bare kind. The unrestrained kind. You know it’s a relief for him when the dam bursts open, soaking you in the beauty of humanness one only finds in literature these days. You can’t help but fall in love with him all over again when his eyebrows furrow. When his orbs nearly burn a hole in the ceiling when he’s trying to think of the right word that will ultimately help him convey the unfolding of the storyline. When he gives up and weaves English into his sentences, relying on his hands to say what his overstimulated brain fails to do. 
He reads to pass knowledge to you. The serenity whispered it into the chambers of your heart, a puff of hot breath in winter’s cold. It soothingly rubbed his shoulders when Namjoon told you there used to be a time when he couldn’t stand the sight of his books lining up the walls of his apartment. Wanted to burn it down and watch as the evidence of his melancholy dies in front of him. Because that’s what most of his book collection consisted of back then. The innermost shadowy faces of his pain. Loneliness. Sadness. Despair from life, from it not being enough for him, from it not saving a spot there for him–not once throughout the course of his life. That’s why he reads different kinds of books now. Ones that do not reflect his survival before you.
The reader has to get wiser, ruffled by life in order to gain more, gain what they need from those once deeply loved pages. It’s what the serenity believes. It’s what you believe and hope for Namjoon. That one day, somehow by the healing of the love you give him, he will look back and pick a souvenir from that moonless country of pain. Put it up somewhere between the spines of his new cluttered collection. Look at it from time to time and sense that it’s telling him something. Something that will fill the stitched-up cracks in his heart with sunlight. Something that he will pass over to you. It’s your love language after all. Namjoon reads because you read. It’s his own personal healing thing. 
You two are just a pair of two bookworms. Unfit for the world outside. Fit for the land you two created. Whose soil you take care of together.
***
Dinner is almost ready by the time you feel his fingertips gripping your hips. You hum, acknowledging his presence. Glad for the homely heat that radiates off of his body and seeps into your bones as you stir the risotto you decided to make on the stove. Coldness had been embracing you all day while he read so you’re overjoyed that he ripped it away from you.
Namjoon places a kiss on your temple and you sigh in relief. You might be too dependent on him, but so is he. He wouldn’t be nuzzling his face in your hair, squeezing your waist, peppering kisses on your tender skin if he wasn’t. It’s the perfect balance. And it’s not that you’re not able to be away from each other. The principle of looking forward to one another is what makes it so sweet, so endurable for the pair of you. Of the coming back and coming into contact at the end of the day. It’s natural. Simple. Human.
“Missed me?” Namjoon husks into your ear. 
You smirk and turn off the stove, turning around to face him. “Terribly.”
His body is clad in a black T-shirt that fits his broad figure well and a pair of baggy sweats of the same color, having discarded the warm crewneck he was wearing earlier somewhere in the universe of his book. A long silver chain twinkles in the middle of his chest in the yellow light. You caress it with your fingers and leave your palm there, on the hardness of his pecs. 
“I finished the book,” he says and you blink up at him. You’re not surprised at all. “Couldn’t put it down.”
Sleepy wrinkles have left their mark on his face from the cozy position he laid in for too long on the couch. His short sunlit hair, grown healthily from his military service, is tousled in all directions and you smooth it down for him. How did God bless you with such a beautiful man is something you’ll wonder about for the rest of your life. 
“What happened to Theo in the end?” you ask, genuinely curious about whether one of the characters you’ve grown attached to is okay after all the shit the author put him through. 
Namjoon was reading a coming-of-age book about a boy named Theo. A panorama of his childhood and adolescent life, you’ve heard all about it. Namjoon cared a lot about this story, cared a lot about the protagonist’s emotions and reactions to the reappearing storms. What made him stick with it, despite the nearly triggering themes, is the fact that Theo never let go of his optimism no matter what. It was incredibly inspiring for Namjoon. Something new. Something that he never thought could be possible. You’re proud of him for daring to read a book so reminiscent of his past.
“You’re not gonna believe it,” Namjoon says, a blush creeping along his cheeks.
You raise one of your eyebrows in question. 
“Theo got laid,” Namjoon reveals, laughing softly. “I’m so happy for him.”
You gasp and burst into giggles. “What?”
“He got some!” 
Your laughter rises in volume. “He lost his virginity and that’s the end?”
“It was a big moment for him. A triumph of some kind. Like he shed his old skin and left that broken life behind. It was amazing.” Namjoon’s eyes glint with tiny shooting stars and you melt. He always finds poetic meanings in the varieties of the character arcs. You think you just fell in love with him all over again. 
“That’s really beautiful,” you admit. It reminds you of something. Of something quite personal. “My first time with you changed my life as well.”
Namjoon’s eyebrows curl in tenderness. Dragon eyes widen and round in fervent emotion. He squeezes his arms around you, enfolding you in a hug. Kisses you warmly. Strokes your hair down your back. Your own eyes pool with little tears with the intimate knowledge that you chose the right person to unfold your raw femininity with. No one, no man other than him could have created such a safe for that to happen.
“Tell you what,” Namjoon says a bit hoarsely. “I saw us in it.”
You hum, encouraging him to continue. Crave for more of his thoughts and confidential findings. Its fire spreading through your body, as each word of his registers in your brain, always makes you feel phenomenally alive. You’re not timid to avow that it’s your addiction. Shame doesn’t know you.
“Elena was on top and he was watching her. In awe of her,” he murmurs, caressing your cheek with the tip of his thumb. “Made me think of our last time. A life changing experience of mine as well.”
You welcome the fire and suspire with sudden desire, eyes lidding. Your heart begins to thump. Namjoon studies your reaction. 
“You remember well, don’t you?” He nudges his nose against yours. “I was in awe of you just the same.” 
It’s impossible not to remember. The memory consumes your mind every waking hour. Gets you needy in ways you haven’t felt before. Namjoon had you sat on his lap among the fluffiness of your innumerable pillows and plushies. Had you do all the work as he focused on the sleekness of your freshly moisturized calves, its coconut aroma interfused with the scent of sex and the euphony of your bounces, ragged breaths and broken moans making his head all fucked up. He was loud himself, more loud than you ever recalled him being. Reading your body at the mercy of the pleasure his hard length was giving you with his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. Not once did he take his eyes off of you, not once did he help you. Just gripped your calves. Your thighs. Your tits all in his face. Only when you came hard, out of your own delightful merit, did his eyes roll back. You left his hips glazed with the evidence of your well-deserved orgasm, a porcelain statue made glossy.
A little later, during your pillow talk, he told you he’d found the idea of you using him while getting yourself off extremely hot. Made him more hard than he’d been in a while. Begged you to be even more selfish next time, adding an indistinct, ‘well, of course, if you want’ to the end of his sentence because he’s Namjoon.
“I do,” you breathe. “Touched myself to it this morning while you were still asleep.”
Namjoon groans. “God.” He kisses the side of your neck. Gets close to your ear. “You wanna do it again, hm? Wanna fuck me?” 
You might burst. His closeness, his heat, his need to ask for your consent turns you unstable. You’re choked up on your words, mind too fuzzy to say something. Turned on. Fucked up.
“You wanna show me how you touched yourself?” Namjoon continues, but you shake your head against the side of his face. 
You had touched yourself in the shower. Couldn’t say no to the impulse. Sharing that part of you for his eyes to see isn’t something you’re quite ready for. To you, it’s still something that’s yours. Something private. A courage you have yet to pluck up. You’re afraid to give him this last part of your femininity.
“Not today,” you whisper, planting a kiss on his neck. Feel him shiver. “I’m sorry. Do you mind?”
Withdrawing from your neck, Namjoon looks you dead in the eye, brows twisted in stern seriousness. “Don’t ever apologize for something like that again. Hear me when I say that.”
You squeeze his shoulder, the corners of your mouth lowering in a pout. Thankfulness grips your heart and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. 
“You know this is why we do this right?” he asks you. “Why I ask you these questions? I need to always know what you’re comfortable with so I don’t make a mistake.”
You nod. “Yes, Namjoon, I know and I’m so thankful.”
“Good. I’ll never push you to do anything you don’t want. Don’t forget that, okay?”
“Okay, I won’t.” 
“That’s my girl. 
You grab him by the back of his neck and engulf him in a hug. Luckiest girl in the world? That you are. The fact that you’re his is still something you can’t wrap your head around.
“We can stop. We don’t even have to do anything tonight—”
“No, Namjoon.” You withdraw. “Look.” Wrapping your hand around his wrist, you slip his hand beneath the confines of your panties. 
His breath shakes when he reaches your soaked folds. He traces your hole with his middle finger and your hips follow his movement, the pleasure so faint but so good that you flutter your eyes closed.
“Fuck, baby.” 
“Yeah, I need you. Need more,” you breathe out. “Can’t leave me like this, can you?”
Namjoon hums. “No, I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of this pussy.” 
He kisses you. Massages his tongue against yours. You buck your hips into his hand and Namjoon hears your body language. Takes his fingers up and rubs your swollen clit from side to side, quickening his pace as he swallows your moans down his throat. Gets angry at your tight leggings hindering him in giving you more, so he gets on his knees and swiftly pulls them down along with your underwear. 
“Sit on the counter.”
You comply right away. Namjoon takes your feet in his hands and gently removes your slippers, removing your garments fully so they don’t pool around your ankles. He needs your legs spread and he needs them spread wide for what he’s about to do to you. 
Torso long enough to reach you, he remains on his knees. Runs his hands up the back of your thighs to guide you into the position he wants you in. “Lock your arms around the back of your knees. Don’t let go.”
You do as he says, biting your lips in nervousness. Intertwine your hands together. Prepare yourself to die. 
Namjoon studies your dewy pussy, index and middle finger mimicking the letter V as he slides them up and down your folds, squeezing just right to hear you mewling. Your knees being so close together makes her look a lot more pillowy and you hear Namjoon breathe hard, absolutely hypnotized by the beauty of your flesh. 
“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping down my hand.” He withdraws his fingers to show you how your slick trickles down the lines on his palm, changing the course of his life once and for all. 
Your clit throbs, breath matching his. “Please, Namjoon.”
He curses inaudibly. Brings his fingers back down to your folds, squeezes your lips and your clit together. Hisses at the sweet whimpery sounds spilling out of your mouth. Presses tighter so you whine needily for him. Takes you into his mouth when he accomplished what he wanted, tonguing your clit in slow agonizing circles that has you buckling your hips again. Puts his hands on your thighs to keep you down, flicking fast to absolutely abuse the fuck of you. Dragon eyes zeroing on yours, he gives you the hypnosis that your pussy did to him as he sucks on your bundle of nerves. You can’t even scream. Can’t breathe. The pleasure overwhelms you wholly and straps you down. There’s nothing you can do but take it. 
You come hard on his tongue. Namjoon laps it all up gladly. And when he’s finished, he stands up and slips those two digits that ruined you into your hole. Doesn’t move them. Lets you adjust instead.
“One more,” he mutters. “Please.”
You nod.
“Use your words or we’re stopping.”
You groan and close your eyes, your thighs visibly shaking in your iron grip from your orgasm. “Yes, Namjoon, one more. I’ll come for you.”
Namjoon places a wet kiss on your thigh to praise you, and to thank you as well. Begins to move his fingers promptly, but can’t seem to get enough of your skin. Proceeds to make it shiny with his liquid love, sucking it to bruise you. To remember this moment a little more fondly in the morning. 
Creating a trail up to the back of your knee, his digits pick up the speed. The pool of slick you left in his palm sloshes with each rapid thrust of his hand. He looks back at you and sees you lost in the pleasure, eyes lidded and unfocused. “Look at me.” 
You do, weakly.
“Just a little bit more and I’ll fuck you, all right?”
You’re about to nod, but decide against it. “Mhm, yes, Namjoon, fuck.” 
He smiles down at you. Your relief inches closer. “I’m so proud of you for speaking up today. For letting me know.” 
You could cry right now. Because of his fingers making you feel so good. Because of his kindness making you feel so safe. It all closes in on you and you whimper. 
Abruptly, Namjoon unravels your grip on your knees and kisses you, tongue slipping in. You come all over his hand, without meaning to, and he doesn’t stop. On the contrary, Namjoon fucks you harder. Takes all four of his fingers and strums your clit, prolonging your orgasm, swallowing down all of your moans. 
“Come on.”
Namjoon helps you down. If it weren’t for his arms holding you steady, you would’ve collapsed on the floor. Your legs shake, muscles taut and tense. 
“I got you.”
Sat on the floor with his joggers and boxers pulled beneath his crotch, he pulls you down on his lap. A wisp of precum adorns his tip and you wrap your hand around it, collecting it with your thumb. Watch him as you swirl your tongue around the digit before sucking on it, letting go with an obscene pop. Namjoon licks his lips, hands clasping your hips hard enough to bruise you. Twitches in your other hand.
“Don’t fucking do that to me, baby.” 
You laugh almost inaudibly, drunk on him. “Are you gonna come in me?” 
He replaces your hand, holding his length at the base for you to sink down. And you do, gasping softly at his thickness. Your dewiness helps it to be a smooth ride.
“Gonna pump you full. Leave you dripping,” he promises, voice restrained. “Gonna fuck you so good you’ll remember it for the rest of your life.” 
One thing about Namjoon, he’s a man of his word. 
Seated perfectly on him, he waits for you to adjust. Alleviates the tremble of your thighs with his palms, massaging the muscles. Takes off your shirt and flings it across the kitchen. Gropes your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers. You start to grind on him, throwing your head back. He latches onto your nipple and flicks the nub with his tongue. You lose your mind, leaking down his balls. 
“Ready?” he asks against the fullness of your breast. 
“Yeah, fuck me, Joon.” 
He thrusts into you once to watch you fall apart. Locks your arms behind your back. Grabs your forearms for his use.
“You forgot something.”
He thrusts again, harder this time.
“What?” you breathe out, meekly. 
“What word do you use when you want to ask for something?”
He watches you as you work it out in your brain. Fucks into you three more times, equally hard, to disrupt you. 
“Fuck, sorry. Please, Joon, please.”
He grinds, hips rotating in circles. 
“Uh-huh, that’s right. Now use it.” 
Namjoon envelops your tit in his mouth, swirling his tongue around your areola. Sucking. Keeping up the agonizing pace. Groaning when you clench down on him. 
“Please, hmph, fuck me.”
Your breast bounces back when he lets go, biting his lip. “Knew you could do it,” he coos. “Smart fucking girl.” 
He begins to fuck you properly. Thrusting up and down as he holds you steady, keeping his eyes locked on yours. As he takes control of your squirming, leaving his fingerprints on your forearms and waist. You’re breathless, whimpering, on the verge of sobbing. So turned on and needy for him that the emotions brim in you, threatening to spill over. 
“Aren’t you?” Namjoon continues. “Aren’t you a smart girl?” 
You nod, knowing exactly what he wants to hear. “I’m a smart girl.” 
He spanks your ass to reward you and you arch your back. Tits all in his face. He’s mesmerized watching them bounce and nearly slap against each other, nubs hard and pointed. He licks them up, flicking them with his tongue. You round your shoulders a little in pleasure, his strong grip not letting you fold like your body wants. 
“That’s right. So smart and good for me. So fucking wet. Making me lose my mind.”
Namjoon kisses you. Inhales you. Withdraws only for a mere second before he’s back, tongue in, toying with you the way you like it. You feel your relief calling your name.
“Namjoon, I’m so fucking close. I’m so close. I’m gonna come,” you whine, forehead pressed against his, face twisted in ecstasy.
Namjoon stops out of the blue and slips out of you. You whine loudly, but before you know it, he carries you to the couch and lays you down on it. Takes off all of his clothes until only his silver chain remains, shining bright in the dim light. He spreads your legs, one limb over the backrest, the other around his thigh. Grips his length and tugs at it a few times, the feeling of your wetness making him slippery pulling moan after moan out of him. 
He enters you again and resumes his fast pace, holding your calf in his hand. “Smart girls come on the couch, not on the floor like whores. You got that?” 
You nod almost too eagerly, fucked out beyond measure. “Yes, Joon, please make me come. Please, come here.” 
Namjoon leans towards you, propping his elbows by your head, cradling you. “I’m here. I’m gonna make you come.” 
From this angle, he fucks you more deeply than before, his tip reaching your cervix. You roll your eyes back, but bring them right back to his face when his chain taps you on the chin. You find it so hot that you grind your hips against his, meeting his thrusts, encouraging him to fuck you harder. The chain meets you in erratic staccatos and you scratch your nails down his bare back, the sword-like pendant hurting you in a way that you like. 
Namjoon notices. Slows down his movements. Pinches the chain from the back of his neck. Prompts you to lift your head and slides it over, letting it rest in the middle of your breasts. Then fucks you back into the couch.  
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips. “Gonna breed you. Hm. You want that, don’t you?”
The cord tightens in your lower belly. The bulge of where his tip is hitting you nudges him in his stomach and he looks down. Curses. 
“Look.” 
You follow his eyes and moan. “Namjoon, Namjoon, please come in me. I’m so close. Wanna feel you. Please.” 
He grunts, nodding his head. Licks his fingertips and presses them against your clit. Pleasures you in fast and swift jerks until you’re knocking your head back. Only when he grabs your jaw and kisses you does the cord snap, his lips being your ultimate undoing. 
Namjoon presses you down with his body, keeps you calm and collected. Kisses you all through it, your jaw, your neck, your cheeks. Then his thrusts turn sloppy and his cock twitches in you. He gives you one final hard thrusts and fills you up, groaning against your mouth.
You’re smoothing down the sting of your scratches on his back when he pulls out of you and his cum drips out of you. You wish you could see what he sees, hand on his mouth, careful to catch his drool. You push out more for him and he curses, fondling your pussy with his thumb before he pumps it back in. 
He comes back to you and kisses you. Fixes your hair. Caresses your cheek. Helps you stand on your feet as he leads you into the shower. Washes every inch of your body, heedful of the bruises he left on the back of your thigh. Lathers your hair in your favorite shampoo. Wraps you in a towel. Wanted to moisturize your body, but you told him off, knowing both of you would get horny again. You let him brush your hair, though, placing a comb in his hand. He’s gentle as he undoes the knots, then he blowdries your hair. 
And you do the same for him.
Once the pillow touches your cheeks, you’re both out like a light. 
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raplinenthusiasts · 5 months
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Yo, what you doin' boy?
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oddinary4bts · 4 months
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Emotions of the Soul | knj
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☆summary: when Namjoon reappears in your life after thirteen years of absence, you find yourself unsure of what he means to you, and of what you mean to him. Anxiety reigns over you, but will it be enough to drag you away from Kim Namjoon?
☆pairing: Kim Namjoon x artist female reader
☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)
☆genre: childhood/teenage lovers to strangers to lovers, idol!au, smut, angst, fluff
☆warnings: alcohol, anxiety, a reference to the reader in Now We Reign if you guys can catch it, cursing, stupid teenage threats of m*rder, an appearance from the reader in Forever, pet names, paparazzi, imposter syndrome, an ugly teenage breakup flashback, explicit content: mentions of blindfolding, switch!Namjoon, big dick!Namjoon, switch!reader, oral sex (male and female receiving), jerking off, dirty talking?, balls fondling, face riding, breast play, fingering, protected sex, praise, hair pulling (ish), ass slapping, tummy bulge (? lmao), choking, cumshot, cum eating, unprotected sex, he calls OC a slut once or twice I think
☆word count: 36.3k
☆a/n: Oof I don't know why but writing this was so so hard?? I'm happy I finally managed to finish it tho! It delves into the subject of anxiety and its effects on people, so it's a little heavy, but I hope you'll still enjoy it <3 As always, thank you to @moonleeai​ for her incredible work as my beta reader! You’re the best <3
☆Read the other installments in the Life Goes On series here!
☆☆☆☆☆
The music in the gallery was loud. It probably fitted a club better than an art exhibit, the upbeat melody having more than one person dancing and nodding their head to it. The atmosphere was warm, stuffy, even though the front doors had been left open in the hopes of getting the fresh November air in. It failed majestically, and you were sweating in your too-tight dress by the refreshment table in a corner, watching over the crowd.
You had never seen so many people in your gallery before. Had never thought your art would attract that amount of people, but it seemed the art enthusiasts of Seoul had flocked to your gallery tonight, looking to experience the art of a new talent firsthand.
At least that was what the journalists were saying, even though you had been an artist since you were a middle schooler. Fingers always stained with ink, teachers scolding you for never paying attention…
Middle school had seen your love for art blossom the way azaleas blossom after a long winter. With bright petals, vivid with life, though your art had first been the colour of the darkest nights. It had taken you years before you had incorporated colours into it, and now you were proud to see the myriad of shades painted on your pieces.
You sighed, and you reckoned maybe the mask you were wearing was the reason why you felt so stuffy. But you weren’t going to risk being recognized – no, you liked enjoying your exhibits in the anonymity of an art enthusiast. Rare were those who knew who the artist actually was, and you felt like it was the best way to have actual feedback on your art.
No one coated their words with sugar when they spoke with just another art enthusiast. So tonight, you wore the mask of the artist, the one people knew you for. It preserved your identity but also allowed people to know who the artist was when they had to. Like tonight, considering that it was the opening of your newest exhibit, The Colours of Fall.
You ordered a glass of apple-flavoured soju mixed with beer, bowing your head in thanks at the employee behind the table when they offered it to you. When you turned back around, your eyes trailed to the wall of windows on one side of the room. Though some pieces were hung there, with spotlights behind the windows to create shadows into the pieces, you still were able to see the black Sedan that was parking outside.
Paparazzi outside started flashing their cameras as someone walked out, and all you could see from where you were was a mop of black hair. More than one celebrity was in attendance tonight, so you didn’t pay attention to the person arriving more than necessary, instead focusing on the exhibit once more.
It was going well. Far better than you had first imagined it would. You had already sold numerous pieces, and your brain was running a mile a minute with ideas of what you could replace them with.
Your mask only hid the top part of your face, so you easily took a sip of your drink, inadvertently bobbing your head to the music. It was good music, it really was, but you couldn’t wait for the actual playlist you had chosen to begin.
Which wasn’t going to be for a whole other hour, unfortunately. After you said your speech and the lights turned to red, orange, and the rich yellow of autumn leaves.
Your manager moved closer to you, and she offered you a wide smile. You nodded your head and watched as she ordered the same drink as you, before standing next to you.
“The celebrity scene is going crazy over your exhibit,” Na Sooah said. “Most of those invited showed up.”
“I still can’t believe you invited the whole celebrity scene,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “Most of them know nothing about art.”
Sooah laughed. “Not all of them! Kim Namjoon just arrived.”
Your throat went dry, and the hand clutching your glass tightened at the mention of Namjoon’s name. Kim Namjoon. Your childhood friend Kim Namjoon. Your first kiss, your first time… and a member of the most famous boy group in the world. More than that, Namjoon was a fellow art enthusiast.
Namjoon’s love for art started at the same time as yours. He had been enthralled by your drawings, believing that you had a gift that needed to be nurtured and protected. Like his love for music, though his comparisons most often made no sense. To you, that is.
Namjoon had been your first heartbreak, back when every emotion felt deeper than the ocean, when anger, pain, and sadness ran longer than eternity. Back when he hadn’t even joined Big Hit yet.
“Kim Namjoon,” you repeated, tasting his name in your mouth for the first time since that ugly October night when you had told him you hated him more than anything in this world, and he had left without even a single look back.
You had never spoken after that. You had never talked about him anymore either, not to your friends or family. And when you had begged your parents to change school, they had caved in, letting you attend the same school as your cousin Miyoung.
Miyoung had been your closest friend since then, until Sooah had come into your life to form a trio with you and your cousin when you had attended college in arts.
“Yeah, he’s created quite a commotion outside,” Sooah commented, and you remembered the mop of black hair.
Could that have been Namjoon?
“And when he RSVP’ed, he mentioned that he would like to have a talk with the artist, so I hope you’re ready,” Sooah added, teasingly.
You glared at her through your mask. “You couldn’t have told me before?”
“No.”
You rolled your eyes once more, not so playfully this time, taking another sip of your drink. “He’s Kim Namjoon, you could have let a girl prepare.”
At that, Sooah laughed out loud. “Got a little crush?”
“Quite the opposite,” you said through gritted teeth.
You hated Kim Namjoon.
You noticed him then. He was dressed simply, yet it was elegant, somehow. Or maybe it was the way he carried himself, with his large and tall frame, that made him elegant. Because you doubted a pair of jeans with a gray cardigan over a light blue polo was supposed to be this elegant. His long coat matched the colour of his cardigan almost to perfection, and he flashed dimples to the employee at the coat check as he took off the coat, revealing more of his large frame.
Needless to say, Kim Namjoon didn’t look like he could rip a log in two with his bare hands back when you had first known him. No, he had been a thin, gangly teen, with arms that seemed too long for his frame.
When he was rid of his coat, he moved to the side to let the man behind him give his coat away, and then the two of them started walking together.
You had no idea who the other man was, but from the looks of it, he was a friend, as Namjoon laughed along with him.
One of your hands moved to your face, gently grazing your mask to make sure it was still well-fitted. It was like one of those masks people wore at the Venice carnival. It matched the theme of your exhibit, with autumn leaves craftily molded into it. It was a piece of art in and of itself, like all the masks you wore as an artist.
He wouldn’t recognize you. You were positive he wasn’t going to be able to recognize you with just the lower part of your face on display, especially after so many years apart. Your voice had changed to – matured, aged, like your features, quite honestly.
After all, the last time Kim Namjoon had seen you, you had been a crying, yelling, angsty fifteen-year-old.
Sooah left you to a couple that was looking to buy one of the backlit art pieces, and you explained to them the process behind the creation of the art they had chosen, eyes once in a while flitting around to make sure Kim Namjoon wasn’t in your vicinity yet.
He wasn’t. He was perusing around the gallery, stopping to talk to other celebrities once in a while, and so far, you weren’t even sure he had looked your way. Which was a good thing, because that meant maybe you’d make it to your speech before he actually tried talking to you.
You could leave immediately after your speech, right?
“And what about the subject of autumn interested you so much?” the older man in front of you asked.
You blinked out of your reverie, offering him a practiced, easy smile. “If you had to choose, would you want to witness the beginning or the end?” you asked.
It was the catchphrase of your speech. Though people could argue that the year ended and began in the winter months, you had always seen a finality in the months of fall and had portrayed it in your art.
The man seemed taken aback by your question. He cocked his head to the side, before glancing at his wife. “The end carries weight,” the wife said pensively. “It carries age and wisdom.”
You offered her a polite nod. “Exactly. I find beauty in the end and chose to portray it with the months of autumn. When life seems to come to its end.”
“Fall is beautiful,” the man agreed. “But wouldn’t you argue the start holds more beauty? With all the possibilities that it carries.”
“A different kind of beauty. Which, maybe it’s going to inspire my next exhibit,” you teased, secretively, and the couple laughed.
You talked to them a little more, and it seemed life had salvation to offer you because Sooah was the one that came to you first, and not Kim Namjoon. You said goodbye to the couple, before following your manager to the spot where you were to say your speech. As usual, nerves wracked your whole body at the sight of the standing mic, and you had to resist not to bring your thumb to your mouth to nibble on the nail. It was a habit you had gotten rid of only recently, and you really didn’t want it to come back.
Especially not in front of a crowd such as this one, in which you knew Kim Namjoon was standing.
Sooah stopped in the crowd, pushing you forward gently, inciting you to walk the rest of the way yourself. Your heart beat out of your chest as if it was about to escape your ribcage, and you took a deep steadying breath before moving out of the crowd.
The music stopped, and the lights immediately dimmed, until all that was left was a single spotlight, which shone on you as you stopped next to the mic. Back turned to the crowd, eyes skimming over the biggest piece of your exhibit. Ilsan lay before you, draped in the colours of autumn.
You breathed in and out one last time, and then you turned, stepping in front of the mic.
“If you could choose,” you started, voice steadier than you expected it’d be. “Would you choose the end or the beginning?”
The couple you had been speaking to smiled wildly at your sentence, and you let the silence linger long enough for people to whisper their own answer. Music started with low traditional instruments replacing the upbeat melody from earlier.
“There is a form of beauty in the end. In knowing you’ve seen it all, and that rest is at your door,” you continued. “There’s beauty in looking back, in wisdom, and in the Colours of Autumn.” You paused, looking over the crowd. You noticed Namjoon standing at the back, listening politely. “My exhibition carries this: the end of the year, of the cycle of nature. The beauty of fall, of leaves and October nights and November rains.” You wondered if people could tell that your hand was slightly trembling, where it held the mic. “When the wind catches and leaves blow, it is time to look back. So tonight, I want you all to take a step back, to look back on your lives and ask yourselves, ‘Have I found the wisdom of The Colours of Autumn?’”
The spotlight turned off, and you walked away from the mic to the crowd. When you turned back to look at the piece of Ilsan, a projector came to life and the story you had prepared started.
You tuned it out: you had seen the shadow and light projections so many times already they had lost all sense to you. It often happened – if you stared at your art for too long, it lost all its meaning. So you usually didn’t look back on a piece right away. You waited for the end, for the concretization that came with your exhibits, and only then did you look back.
Except the lights and shadows. You had watched those fifteen times yesterday only to make sure that everything was perfect. And you were quite the perfectionist, you knew that they were.
While everyone was watching, you slowly made your way to the back of the crowd. You surprisingly still had your drink in your hands, and you took a careful sip as you finally slipped out of the big of the crowd. The drink was flat now, and you tried to head towards the refreshment table in order to rid yourself of it.
It seemed your calculations had been wrong, because Kim Namjoon stood in front of you, in all his tall glory.
All his infuriating glory, as dimples graced his cheeks at the sight of you. They stopped you in your tracks, and you gazed up at him, eyes connecting even through the dim lighting. His friend was standing next to him, and your eyes flitted to him once before looking at Namjoon again.
Namjoon nodded his head, politely, before taking a sip of the beer he was holding. You nodded back, and then you resumed moving, thoughts spiraling like leaves in the fall wind. You made it all the way to the small door that led to the stairs to your studio before you were stopped by a large hand on your elbow.
You knew who it was without having to turn around, and you would have cursed him for not watching the show had applauds not sounded, indicating that it was over anyway.
“Hi,” Namjoon politely said when you were finally facing his way. His hand had long returned to the pocket of his jeans, and he looked infinitely nonchalant, standing there in front of you. “Sorry for the intrusion, but your manager told me to be quick to speak to you at the end if I didn’t want to miss you.”
Sooah could go to hell.
You offered a polite chuckle, though to you, it sounded like you were choking on air. Because frankly, you felt like you were. “I do usually slip away in the night,” you answered. You glanced at the door, hating that your salvation had been so close yet so far. “You caught me right before I was to leave.”
When you faced Namjoon again, you noticed the confused look on his features. His brows were furrowed over his eyes, his lips were slightly parted, and he had tilted his head to the side in confusion. His eyes, slightly narrowed, made him look like some sort of dragon, and God were you well placed to know Namjoon could breathe fire if he wanted.
At least when he was a teen, he could.
“I’ve been trying to get in contact with you,” Namjoon admitted. “Your manager said to come here if I wanted a chance to talk to you.”
You cocked an eyebrow, though the mask hid it from view. What the hell could Namjoon want to speak to you about?
“I’ve noticed you portray Ilsan in your art a lot, and since I come from there, I wanted to know if I could buy a piece,” he added to your stunned silence.
“You didn’t have to talk to me to ask for that,” you said, and you glanced around at the employees on the floor that were in charge of the actual selling.
“I wanted to have the artist’s insight on which piece she’d believe would fit best for me,” he continued, and he seemed to realize then that this was weird. He scratched the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders a little. “Or maybe even have one made personally?”
Now, you remembered why you hated Kim Namjoon. “I do not take commissions,” you flatly replied. “If you wish to buy a piece, you can auction for one with one of my employees.”
“Sorry,” Namjoon quickly said. “I didn’t want to sound rude. Like at all. It’s just… there was this piece I really liked from your last exposition, Winds of the West? I couldn’t buy it in time.”
“I do not remake pieces.”
Silence followed your statement. Had he only then noticed how cold you were towards him?
“Right,” he eventually said. “How unfortunate. I think the person that bought it is here today. Might as well go talk to them.”
It was said like a joke, but you didn’t bite, remaining entirely stoic in front of him. Kim Namjoon didn’t seem to like it, as if he was used to people bending to his every wish, and he probably was.
“Might as well,” you agreed, hoping that it was going to make him leave.
It seemed it did the trick, because he looked over his shoulder, probably searching for the person in question. When his eyes settled back on you, he said, “Guess I’ll let you escape through the night.”
You pursed your lips, nodding once. And just because you wanted to preserve your artist image a little, even though you reckoned you had been rude to him, you said, “Good luck with getting the piece.”
At that, he lit up, and the dimples appeared.
You hated that after all these years, they still had an effect on you.
“Thank you, Maehwa,” he gently said.
Hearing him say your artist’s name had you freezing on the spot. You hoped he didn’t see the panic in your eyes, and the colours draining from the half of your face visible to people. He did furrow his eyebrows once more though, looking pensive, but you didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. Indeed, you quickly wished him good night, before turning around and stepping through the door.
Once you were in the cool darkness, back pressed against the door you’d just locked, you took another deep steadying breath, like the one you had taken before your speech.
Maehwa had been Namjoon’s nickname for you, all those years ago. Because back then, you had mostly been drawing flowers and had been attracted to the maehwas, the blooms of a plum. But maehwas were common and loved, and there was no way he could have connected the dots. He didn’t seem like he had, or else you were pretty sure he would have approached you in an entirely different fashion. Indeed, back then, he had told you he’d kill you if he ever saw you again, which, in your fifteen-year-old heart, had been quite the threat.
Once you were calmed, you walked down the stairs, breathing in a sigh of relief at the sight of your studio. Right now, it was pretty much empty, save for the painting you had started for Miyoung’s wedding next summer.
She wasn’t even engaged yet, but her boyfriend Doyoon had let you in on the secret since you were going to help with the proposal in a few weeks. You glanced at the painting, almost wishing to work on it a little just to get your mind off things. But it was late, and you’d rather be at home, with your cat Gabi.
Was it your fault if memories of Kim Namjoon swam in your head until late that night? You highly doubted so. And looking back, you couldn’t see any beauty in your ending. You, who preached that all endings held beauty. Had you just been too immature then? You thought perhaps you had been, but it didn’t really matter anymore though, did it? It couldn’t.
Why, then, were you unable to shake Kim Namjoon out of your thoughts, until troubled sleep found you in its embrace?
*****
                December was grand. With showers of fluffy snow that left a blanket on the world, and Miyoung’s engagement party. You painted, stained your fingers with blue and purple to match the colours of the winter landscape, and by the time January came, you had all but forgotten how Kim Namjoon had just reappeared one evening in late November.
Your studio was cool at this time of the year, and the windows at the top of the walls had iced with frost. You were wearing a thick sweater, with a pair of leggings you had long stained with paint, back when you were working on the fall Ilsan piece.
Indie music was playing in the background, a new artist that had been taking over Seoul and South Korea with her music. It was sad, but Miyoung had insisted that you listen to it, saying that the artist had been rookie of the year at MAMA last year. You had been supposed to accompany Miyoung to the singer’s stadium show too, but you had ended up being sick, and Sooah had gone in your stead.
The music was lonely, nostalgic, but the lyrics were powerful and inspiring. So you kept on painting, as the light of the rising sun slowly melted the frost on the window, though the corners clung to it like one clings to a lover just returned from war.
You hadn’t slept last night. Had stayed up working on your current piece, and exhaustion was slowly catching up to you, even though the inspiration hadn’t worn off yet. So you kept working, head tilting to the side whenever you finished a small part, waiting to know what the next step in the journey was.
You had a fist on your hip when Sooah and Miyoung both appeared at the top of the stairs leading to the basement, voices cheery and loud in the relative calmness of your studio.
“Please tell me you haven’t been up all night,” Miyoung scolded you, and your gaze slid to where she was walking down the stairs, hands holding up two coffees.
She handed one to you when she reached the basement floor. You took it gladly with the hand that was previously on your hip, shrugging your shoulders. “I was almost done.”
Both Sooah and Miyoung looked at the piece.
“Clearly,” Sooah sarcastically said.
Your eyes also slid back to your piece. You took a step back, and clearly, you were far from done. You had been working on the middle portion all night, but you still had only a vague drawing for the rest of the canvas. You sighed, putting down your brush.
“I meant I’m almost done with what I wanted to finish,” you specified.
Sooah nodded her head, before plopping down on the couch in one corner. Miyoung glanced once at her, before resuming her attention on you.
“Why did it take two months for me to know Kim Namjoon came to your exhibit?” she asked, with the most innocent voice.
Your mouth fell open. “What? It was all over the news.”
“You know I don’t watch the news!” Miyoung exclaimed. “Sooah mentioned it while we were getting coffee.”
“I-“
“And why did you never tell me you dated that guy when you were younger?” Sooah interjected, not letting you finish your sentence.
“Mimi!” you burst, and you jumped towards Miyoung, fully in the hopes of tackling her to the ground.
“The art!” Miyoung screamed as she escaped you. “Be careful with your art!”
You stopped in your tracks, electing to glare at her instead. “Why did you tell her? I was fifteen!”
“Still counts,” Miyoung replied, the innocent act still on.
But you wouldn’t be fooled. “It clearly doesn’t.” You turned your head towards Sooah, who watched with a giddy smile from where she sat. “Right? Who cares about a teenage ex?”
She laughed. “Clearly, you, if you get so worked up about it, what, thirteen years later?”
You frowned, shaking your head. Instead of replying, you took a long sip of your coffee, hoping it would give you something to reply to that.
“I don’t care,” you said when the sip was swallowed, and you couldn’t really wait anymore.
Sooah nodded, getting up from her spot on the couch to head in front of the painting you had been working on. You watched her go, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively.
“Well then,” she said once she was standing there, with her back turned to you. She smacked her lips once, the only way you knew she was up to no good. “You won’t care if I tell you he asked to film something in the gallery, and I said yes.”
You loved your friends. You really did. But sometimes you hated them too. Like right now, as your brain immediately started planning their murder.
“What the fuck?”
Sooah finally turned towards you, acting as if she didn’t just announce the worst news of your life to you. “Yeah. The pay is going to be worth it, and it’s going to give a lot of worldwide visibility to your art. It really is worth it.”
“But Kim Namjoon?” you complained. “Couldn’t you have chosen… I don’t know, some cool indie artist?”
“He’s a cool artist,” Sooah stated, shrugging her shoulders.
You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “Is he really?”
“His music is good,” Miyoung cut in innocently.
Your head snapped towards her. “You listen to his music?”
“Yeah, the album he released in December is good.”
And that was how you found yourself sleep-deprived, listening to a music album made by your teenage ex, as your manager explained to you the deeds of the project Namjoon was going to film in the gallery. Even though Sooah was one of your closest friends, you couldn’t really say no when she asked you to do job things. You trusted her entirely on her choices, had always did, but today you regretted it just a little bit.
Luckily enough for her, your exhaustion won over your will to fire her – or worse, to murder her – and you headed home when you finished listening to the album, repeating time and time again to you didn’t think Namjoon’s music was good.
It had led to Miyoung innocently mentioning that your breakup had been ugly, and really you had to get out of there before you committed the irreparable. It was only a few hours later, after a well-deserved nap, that you realized something.
Kim Namjoon shooting a video in your gallery didn’t mean you had to be present, right?
*****
Kim Namjoon shooting a video in your gallery actually meant that you were going to have to be present.
You had been too tired, that day with Sooah. Had entirely not assimilated that the project he was filming was a series of short episodes where he met up with various local artists, presenting their craft to the world. He had chosen you for the painting episode, even though you were quite convinced there were way better artists out there that he could have chosen from. You didn’t really have a say in this – what Sooah wanted, Sooah got.
Still, you were given a reprieve – the date chosen for shooting was still in a week, and so you took to arranging your gallery the way you believed would work best. And though you were pretty sure it was ready, some late Thursday afternoon you found yourself moving around some paintings, deciding to change the location of the Ilsan piece that had been the vehicle of the shadow and light projection you had shown at your exhibit in November.
You watched as two employees moved the piece where you had asked them to, fists on your hips, when bells rang, indicating that someone had walked in. You didn’t dare look behind you, instead giving directions to the employees as one of them carefully climbed the two first steps of a stepladder to hang the painting where it needed to be.
You surveyed them until the painting was safely hung, almost forgetting that someone had walked in. You only remembered when you felt a heavy gaze on your profile, and a silhouette appeared. You glanced their way then, and almost let out a startled scream that would have clearly made the windows explode.
Kim Namjoon offered you a tight-lipped smile.
“Are you Maehwa?” he asked.
You put a hand over your chest, trying to keep your heart from going into arrest. “You can’t just sneak on people like this,” you grumbled.
Then, the weirdest thing happened. He started smiling, wide, flashing his insufferable dimples, and his eyes lit up from within.
“It really is you.”
You gulped. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” You wanted to scold yourself for saying that, as if you wouldn’t know who Kim Namjoon was, even if he wasn’t your ex from so many years ago.
“Y/n, don’t play this game with me,” Namjoon said, teasingly. “I was pretty sure it was you in November, and now I have the proof.”
You scoffed. “What do you want?”
This time, his smile only allowed one dimple to appear, and you hated it even more. “Your manager told me that I could come over today to prepare for shooting. She said you were setting up the gallery.”
You would really need to fire Na Sooah, wouldn’t you?
You looked around, though it was pretty much ready. The filming crew was supposed to come at the beginning of next week to set up the spotlights and everything else they might need, as filming was only supposed to be Wednesday next week.
“Yeah,” you replied flatly. “What do you need to prepare?”
He tilted his head to the side. “We haven’t seen each other in years, and that’s how you speak to me? I remembered you to be a lot warmer.”
The nerves on this man…
“It’s been over ten years, I’ve changed.” You clenched your jaw once, before taking a deep, steadying breath. There were employees around, after all. “What do you need to prepare?”
He just smiled, mysteriously, before glancing around once. “Do you have an office somewhere around here?”
You looked up to the ceiling, rolling your eyes so far back you thought they were going to stick to the back of your head. “I have my studio downstairs,” you grumbled. “Follow me.”
He nodded, dimples flashing, and followed you as you made your way to the door through which you had escaped from him in November. Only this time, there was no escaping.
Namjoon’s heavy footsteps followed you down the stairs, and you braced yourself for the inevitable comments he was going to make about your studio. To your surprise, he remained silent, and you realized that he, too, had changed through the years.
No one remained quite like their fifteen-year-old self, didn’t they?
You moved towards the sitting area, vaguely motioning to an armchair. “Have a seat.”
You glanced over your shoulder, only to see Namjoon was looking at your current work-in-progress. It made you feel insecure, somehow, and you cleared your throat.
Namjoon’s gaze trailed to you. “Sorry.”
He walked towards you, and you felt small as he stopped right in front of you, still with that same infuriating, warm smile on his lips. “Your art has improved a lot through the years.”
You fled his gaze, motioning to the armchair again. “Do you want coffee? Or a tea?”
“Just water would be fine,” he replied, his smile falling for the first time since he had appeared in the gallery upstairs.
You nodded curtly, and as you headed towards the kitchen area of your studio, Namjoon got comfortable in the armchair. You brought back two glasses of water, mostly because you knew you were going to need something to hold to keep your nerves at bay. Namjoon accepted his with a slight bow of his head, and then you sat on the couch.
You exchanged a look, as you waited expectantly for him to say something. He remained silent, a pensive look on his features. It threw you off, as he had been the type to talk a lot back then.
“You’ve changed,” he stated out of the blue, and it made you cock an eyebrow.
“Obviously,” you drawled. “I would expect someone to change after thirteen years.”
Those stupid dimples appeared for half a heartbeat. “Yet you haven’t changed at all.” At your obstinate silence, Namjoon specified, “You’re still just as petty as I remember you to be.”
Your eyes widened. “Are you here to insult me or to prepare for shooting your show?”
He chuckled, a deep sound that had you busying yourself with a sip of water. He mirrored you, before saying, “I don’t mean to insult you at all”.
Should you call him out for his bullshit? Back then you would have, but you had grown up. So you remained silent once more, waiting for him to continue.
“It’s just weird to see you again,” he said, and he motioned towards you with the hand holding the glass. “You look… good.”
Not at all what you were expecting. It made you gulp, and you hated that your cheeks were burning. “It is weird, right?”
He nodded once, eyes trailing away from you to look down at his glass. “I’m happy your dreams worked out.”
Now, the pang in your heart was unwelcome. Kim Namjoon shouldn’t have the power to make you feel like this, not after all the years.
“I worked hard,” you replied carefully. “As you have, I presume.”
At that, he chuckled, tilting his head to the side. “I sure have.”
Another awkward silence and you glanced at him as he took a sip of water.
“So, what did you want to prepare?” you asked once you couldn’t stand the silence anymore.
“Oh,” he let out. He sat back in the armchair, looking way too at ease with his thighs slightly spread. “I wanted to give you the list of questions that I’m going to ask so that way you can prepare in advance,” he told you, offering you another one of those disarming, dimple-flashing smiles.
You cocked an eyebrow. “You couldn’t have shared them by email?”
Another chuckle of his had you looking away, focusing on your project.
“I could have. But I wanted to see if my inkling was right at the same time,” he explained. “Before the day of shooting, that is.”
You sighed, before looking back at him. His eyes were already on you, and it made you gulp once more.
Namjoon had gotten really intimidating, after all these years.
“Well, now you know,” you said. “Was there anything else you needed?”
He seemed surprised at the dismissal in your tone. “Not… really.” He wet his lips, watching you carefully. “I just thought it’d be great to catch up.” His gaze moved to your surroundings, before settling back on you. “To get to know how you managed to get such a nice studio and all that. I haven’t heard about you since we broke up.”
“Because I wanted it to be this way,” you replied. “And why do you have to say it like you didn’t believe I’d make it?”
“Wait, no,” he quickly said. “That’s not what I meant.”
You couldn’t help the roll of your eyes. “Of course not.”
He laughed. “Really? After all these years, you’re still mad at me?”
“You did tell me you wanted to kill me,” you reminded him in a grumble.
He seemed surprised. He frowned, and his head once again tilted to the side. “Did I?”
“You don’t remember?”
At that, you were the one to be surprised. It had been such a pivotal piece of your existence, back then, that you expected it to be marked into his brain the same way that it was in yours.
He shrugged. “Not particularly. I got super busy with being a trainee, and I just… I guess I forgot.”
“Oh,” you let out. The silence that followed was heavy, awkward, and you hoped it was enough for Namjoon to get the cue and leave.
Maybe he was still just as dumb and clueless as he had been then, because he said, “I was intense, wasn’t I?”
You pursed your lips. “Yeah.”
You held his eyes for a few seconds until your gaze dropped to your glass. You hated how you couldn’t look at him anymore, but gosh, he looked a lot better than he did then, and you had already found him attractive all those years ago.
“I…” he trailed off, nibbling at his bottom lip. “I was wondering if I could have your phone number, to send you the list of questions.”
“Uh…” You scratched the back of your neck, shrugging your shoulders. “You can send it to my manager, she’ll have it sent to me.”
If he was disappointed, he didn’t let it show. “I guess I’ll see you next week, then?”
You nodded once, before clenching your jaw. Because why did some stupid part of you not want him to leave right away?
“Did you eat? I was about to order fried chicken.”
He looked almost startled by your invitation. “I… have eaten, actually,” he replied truthfully, never one to lie. “But if you want company while you eat, I can always stay.”
You shook your head. “Nah, all good. I was just asking to be polite.”
He didn’t call you out on your bullshit, instead offering you a tight-lipped smile. “Then I guess I’ll see you next week.”
You walked him back upstairs, teeth nibbling at the inside of your lip as you tried to ignore the weight of the awkwardness between you. He wished you a good day, flashing those dimples of his, and he left, without once looking back.
You watched him as he climbed in a company car, and your gaze dropped to the ground as the car drove away, quickly disappearing from view.
What the hell had just happened?
*****
                Namjoon’s list of questions was good. Mostly, it was centered around what you used as an inspiration, which other artists did you look up to, and what kind of music you listened to while practicing your art, if you listened to any at all. There was also stuff about where you grew up, and how it might have affected your art.
Nothing too personal, yet the fact that the questions were from Namjoon felt incredibly personal, and your hands were clammy, heart beating out of your chest, by the time the day of shooting came. It didn’t help that there was some problem with the cameras, which was only solved a few hours after the shooting was first supposed to start.
This meant you spent the most awkward, long hours of your life in Namjoon’s company, barely even talking because, frankly, you had nothing to tell him. He seemed fine with the silence, or maybe he just sucked at small talk just as much as you, and he didn’t say anything, just sat there scrolling on his phone until the director came to get the two of you.
And when filming started, Namjoon started asking you his questions, and you tried not to be a blushing mess as you answered. Tried and succeeded, you liked to tell yourself, because you were used to being interviewed.
The fact that you were starting to be renowned in Seoul’s painting scene helped, clearly, because you made it through the introduction and first few questions without stuttering.
They were the easiest ones, after all.
“At what age did you start painting?” Namjoon asked as you sat on the little balcony outside of your gallery, looking over the Han River.
Your breath turned into a cloud as you exhaled, and you followed it with your eyes as it moved up towards the sky. “I started when I was seven. But at first, I only drew, and then started painting when I tried it for the first time in middle school and fell in love with the craft.”
Namjoon was there that day. Had ruined your painting when he had fallen next to it, feet getting tangled in the pots of paint. You had been furious, but you had also been two laughing messes by the time class had finished.
You had started dating half a year later, making the decision right outside of the art class, where it had all begun if you were honest.
“What do you like so much about painting?”
You met his gaze, not really knowing how to answer that question. You had been searching for what to reply for hours the day before, and all you had been able to come up with was, “It allows me to create, to evacuate emotions and to make something that is worth looking back at.”
You weren’t sure it was the answer he was looking for, but you still said it. He offered you a secretive smile, as if it made all the sense in the world to him.
You hoped the camera didn’t catch your eyes flicking to his lips, before getting stuck in the dimple on his cheek.
“I think that’s understandable,” he replied truthfully. “Creating music feels a little like that, at least for me.”
You pursed your lips, not really knowing what you could say to add to the conversation. Namjoon took it in stride, following with his next question.
And it went like that for the whole interview. At some point, you moved inside, with the aim of talking about certain art pieces of your choosing. Namjoon asked questions about your latest exposition, about what it was like compared to your first one, and frankly, you didn’t see the time go until the director cut the tape for the last time, telling Namjoon that it was closing time.
To your surprise, Namjoon had one last question for you.
“As we bring this interview to an end,” Namjoon said, eyes finding yours, “I have one last question for our artist.” He waited a few seconds, as if to give emphasis to his words, before adding, “Why did you choose the name Maehwa?”
You stared at him, he stared at you. You were pretty sure he could read the answer in your eyes, and you were pretty sure you didn’t want to say it out loud. It felt awkward, and this time you doubted the makeup they had put on your skin before filming could hide the blush on your cheeks.
“Uh,” you let out, coughing a little. “When I was younger, a friend of mine used to call me that. I liked the nickname, and I guess it stuck around?”
‘A friend of mine translated’ to him, to Namjoon, and you hoped he couldn’t tell just how much you were spiraling, like a leaf caught in the whirlpool of a leaking sink. Because you were caught in the current, feeling like you were stupid, to have held onto a stupid nickname that meant nothing, that never should have meant anything.
“It’s a pretty name,” Namjoon reflected.
His eyes were heavy on you because, of course, he knew that it was him. Of course, he remembered the days of youth where you had learned about love, by his side.
He had been there after all.
“Thank you,” you replied, a little breathlessly.
After that, Namjoon closed the interview, and when the cameras turned off, you let out a long, wavering sigh. It made him chuckle, as people buzzed around you to put everything away.
“Everything okay?”
You offered him a no-bullshit look. “You didn’t tell me about that last question.”
It sounded accusing, and frankly, you were accusing him. He recoiled, just a little, losing the small smile that was gracing his lips.
“I honestly thought it up during the interview,” he admitted. “I should have warned you.”
You clenched your jaw for a few seconds, before releasing yet another sigh. “It’s whatever. Why did you even want to know that?”
“Because I gave you that nickname…” he said, looking suddenly ashamed.
As if he was a child getting scolded for making a mistake. You didn’t like that look on him, even though he entirely deserved it, so you softened your expression before saying, “You did.”
He held your gaze, and the space between you filled with memories, with his laughter and the rain that early June night when you had kissed for the first time. It made you long for the warmth of his honey-toned skin, taking you by surprise.
Yes, you had once loved Kim Namjoon, but that had been thirteen years ago, when you were too young to actually know what love was.
“Do you…” you started, not knowing where you were headed.
Yet it was like he knew. “Do you want to get dinner with me sometime this week?” he asked, finishing your sentence.
You smiled, looking down as if that would hide the blush on your cheeks. “Only if you take me somewhere nice.”
“You deserve the best,” he said, nodding once. “I know just the place.”
You met his gaze again, and the smile grew like flowers under the sun. “Then yes, I’d like to grab dinner with you.”
At that, he offered you an award-winning smile, with the infuriating dimples creating indents in his cheeks. “For a moment, I was convinced you were going to refuse.”
The blush on your cheeks deepened as you asked, “Why?”
“You haven’t been…” he trailed off, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to the both of you, but most people were busy putting away the lights and mics from the set. “You haven’t been very warm,” he finished as his eyes settled back on you.
You nibbled at your lower lip, nodding curtly. “Right.” You held his gaze for a few seconds, and then you found you were too much of a coward, fleeing his dragon eyes to look at the tiles of the floor instead. “We didn’t part on exactly good terms, you know?”
“Yeah.” He took a step towards you, extending his hand in front of him as if expecting you to shake it. When he added, “I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s nice to meet you”, you understood that he was, in fact, waiting for you to shake it.
“What are you doing?” you asked, ignoring the hand.
He stubbornly kept it there. “Pretending that this is my first time meeting you,” he explained, even though it made little to no sense. When he saw the confused look on your face, he clarified, “So that way, we can pretend that the past never happened, and we can start again on better grounds.”
It made you giggle, a shy little sound that had you finally cave in, your small hand closing around his large one. “I already agreed to grab dinner with you, but…” you trailed off, finally meeting his gaze again. “Nice to meet you, Kim Namjoon. I’m Y/n.”
He held your hand for a second longer than necessary, before letting it go. Your fingers twitched as if wishing he had held on longer, and you hid it by hiding your arm behind your back.
“You come here often?” he asked, adding your name at the end. “I’ve never seen you around.”
You cocked an eyebrow, and you both burst out laughing at the same time.
“You’re bad at this,” you teased him. “We’re in my studio, of course, I come here often.”
He nodded. “Ah, I apologize. It’s my first time around, after all.”
You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him in the shoulder. It just made him laugh again, and there was something so familiar, so warm in his laugh that you turned wistful. He immediately noticed the shift in you, and his smile slowly died down to be replaced by a serious look.
“I’m serious,” he told you. “It’d be great to start on new grounds.”
“I know. I fully agree,” you said. “It’s just… who would have thought I’d accept to grab dinner with the first boy that broke my heart.”
He didn’t reply. Just turned a little apologetic, though you reckoned you had broken his heart too. You both had been young and dumb, there was no way to deny it. And it was strange indeed, that thirteen years later, you had met again. Both of you having changed, having grown until you weren’t sure you really recognized him.
Except for the dimples. The dimples were the same, a never-changing feature that you didn't doubt had stolen the heart of a million of his fans. It had stolen your heart back then after all.
“So,” he said after his manager told him that they were ready to leave, breaking the bubble of the little dimension you both had fallen in. “This time, I assume you’ll allow me to write down your number?”
You snorted, holding out your hand between the two of you, a little like he had done earlier though you were waiting for him to give you his phone. “Sure, I’ll put it in your phone.”
He pouted, looking like the child you had known all those years ago. “I lost my phone.”
“What?”
He repeated sheepishly. “I think I left it in the company car that dropped me off here.”
That was such a Namjoon thing to do you found your heart growing warm once again. “Okay then, I’ll write my number on a paper, and you text me when you find your phone. That works?”
The bright smile returned, and he nodded his head. “That works for me.”
You held his gaze for a few more seconds, before moving away to go get paper in your studio downstairs. When you came back up, he was still waiting, though this time his manager was next to him, looking somehow a little pressed. You felt bad, assuming that he was upset because you were making him wait, so you jogged to Namjoon.
“There you go,” you said, handing him over the paper. Your eyes glided to the manager, before returning to Namjoon. “Text me when you can.”
“I will,” he said.
It sounded like a promise, just as much as it sounded like a beginning.
*****
                “You are shitting me,” Miyoung said, eyes wide like flying saucers.
Cheeks burning, you avoided her insistent gaze. “No…”
“You’re grabbing dinner with Kim Namjoon?” she repeated, and the words sounded so foreign in her mouth that you winced a little.
“Huh,” you let out. “Yeah, seems like I am.”
She shook her head in disbelief, before chuckling lightly. “I can’t believe him. You’re supposed to hate him. You didn’t even want to listen to his music, and now you’re going out with him?” She paused to laugh again. “Sooah won’t believe this.”
“Come on,” you whined. “It’s nothing.”
“Shut up,” Miyoung said as she grabbed her phone. “I’m texting Sooah right now to let her know.”
You tried to steal your friend’s phone from her hands, but she darted away, out of your reach, long enough for the message to be sent. You were pretty sure your cheeks had gone purple now, and all you could do was fold your arms on your chest as you glared at Miyoung.
“It’s just dinner,” you pointed out. “Nothing to freak out about.”
Miyoung narrowed her gaze, eyeing you suspiciously. “Why are you even grabbing dinner with him? What are you hoping to achieve?” Her gaze widened before you could even speak. “Are you only going because he’s RM of BTS?”
You rolled your eyes, looking at the ceiling of your studio. Miyoung had come over when you had texted her about the dinner earlier, claiming that she needed to see for herself if you were just playing with her.
“No?” you said. “I don’t care that he’s RM. I accepted the offer because… I don’t know, at the end of the day, he’s a childhood friend.”
“A childhood friend? He was your first everything.”
Touché. Today, you felt weird whenever you remembered that he had taken your virginity, when you both were so young you shouldn’t even have been thinking about that. You had regretted it for years after – mostly because you had started hating him so bad, but also just because you had been so young. It felt wrong somehow.
“Whatever,” you mumbled. “I only told you because I don’t know how to date. I never really go on dates.”
She laughed, hiding her mouth behind her hand. “Oh my God, it is a date, right?”
You felt yourself flush red, furiously, and your gaze fell to the floor. “I mean, I think so? Don’t you?”
“I thought it was just dinner with a childhood friend,” she mused, hands going behind her back as she rocked on her feet. She was teasing you, and you glared at her. “Alright, alright,” she let out after a few seconds of holding your gaze with a shit-eating smirk on her lips. “First, we’ll need to figure out what you need to wear.”
You nodded, nibbling at your lips. “He mentioned dinner at a restaurant.”
He had. Namjoon had texted you the night after the shoot, claiming that he had indeed forgotten his phone in the car. He had also sent you the link to a famous restaurant in Gangnam, one that you were pretty sure was way over your budget even though you were relatively well-off financially. He had told you he knew the owner, and that the restaurant had private rooms where you could eat without fearing for fans or paparazzi seeing you.
“So then you want to dress nicely,” Miyoung said, nodding once. “A nice pair of dress pants with a cute blouse would do. Or maybe that long black skirt you have that ends right over the knee? You could pair it with…”
“Y/n!” Sooah yelled from the top of the stairs, startling both you and Miyoung. “How dare you not tell me you’re getting dinner with a celebrity?”
Your gaze widened in fear as you watched your manager walking down the stairs, purpose filling her every move.
You were pretty sure the purpose was to murder you.
She pointed a finger at you in affront, her cheeks a little red from the anger. “This is manager business. You can’t just decide…”
“Cut it,” Miyoung interrupted. “You literally bet with me last week that it would happen.”
Sooah dropped the act, face cutting into a bright smile. “I sure did, and I won.” She held out a hand towards Miyoung, who begrudgingly took ten thousand won out of her wallet to put it in Miyoung’s hand. “Thank you,” your manager said. “Now, what’s the plan?”
“They’re getting dinner at a restaurant,” Miyoung declared before you could speak. “What’s the name again?”
You didn’t remember, so you grabbed your phone to look at your text conversation with Namjoon. “Huh…” you trailed off, scrolling up to when he had sent the menu. “Seasons of Seoul.”
Sooah’s mouth fell open. “The Seasons of Seoul? That’s one fancy-ass restaurant.”
You startled at the sound of the curse in Sooah’s voice, before bursting out laughing in time with your friends. “It is,” you said, voice lilting into a whine. “It’s definitely above my budget.”
“Namjoon seems like a gentleman,” Miyoung pointed out “I’m pretty sure he’ll pay.”
“For sure,” Sooah agreed. “When’s the date?”
You blushed, shrugging your shoulders. “We haven’t decided on a day yet.”
“Just tell me when and I’ll clear your schedule,” Sooah said. “I don’t care about any interviews when you can be going on a date with Kim Namjoon.”
You rolled your eyes, though a playful smiled teased the corners of your mouth. “You’ll be the first to know.”
“Yah, I believe I should be the first to know since I was helping you plan what to wear!” Miyoung interjected, which led to your two friends bickering, and then to them helping you out with what to wear. It was a little hard since you weren’t at home and couldn’t rummage through your walk-in closet. Since it was already running late, Sooah suggested heading over to yours, and that was how you found yourself sitting cross-legged on the floor of your living room, back against the couch, as you ate fried chicken and drank soju with your friends.
You were definitely a little buzzed by the time you finished eating, washing your hands at the kitchen sink before you aimed for your closet, where you started pulling out outfit after outfit.
You said no to all of your friends’ suggestions, mostly because it didn’t feel right. Sooah, growing annoyed, suggested to go shopping on the morrow, which made Miyoung jump in excitement, which in turn scared your cat Gabi away.
“Yes, please, please, please!” Miyoung exclaimed. “We haven’t gone in forever. It’ll be like when we were in college procrastinating studying.”
You laughed, brain swimming with alcohol. “As long as you don’t bring me to those fancy stores,” you said. “I hate when people talk to me while I’m shopping for clothes.”
Both your friends threw you no-bullshit looks.
“Come on,” Sooah let out. “Maybe we can even get you another nice outfit for the launch of your next exhibit.”
“I’ve barely even started working on it, it’s not going to be for another full year, at least,” you pointed out. “No need to shop for an outfit now.”
“Pleaseeee,” Miyoung begged. “It’s going to be fun. We can even go to that Samoyed café you like so much.”
The perspective of seeing the Samoyed puppies suddenly made a shopping trip all the more interesting. “Mmh,” you hummed. “I’ll consider it.”
“Bitch!” Miyoung burst, punching you in the shoulder hard enough to hurt. “We’re going tomorrow, just accept your destiny.”
You rolled your eyes as you massaged the spot she had hit, before finally nodding. “Alright, we’ll go. As long as you don’t make me spend my entire paycheck on clothes.”
“Your entire paycheck is like five times what I make so, shut it,” Miyoung pointed out.
“You did sell a piece for over 50 million won last week,” Sooah reminded you.
They had allied against you, hadn’t they?
“Right,” you let out.
“So you have nothing to say for your defense,” Miyoung said sternly, fists resting on her hips in mock authority. “We’re going tomorrow, and you’re coming with us. And,” she added, nodding forcefully, “And you will enjoy yourself.”
You laughed at how dumb she looked. “I’ll try. But I can’t guarantee anything.”
To your surprise, you actually enjoyed yourself the next day. Miyoung and Sooah were great company, had always been, and it really had been a long time since you had spent time together like this. The whole day was spent laughing and gossiping and just enjoying yourselves, and you did end up buying a lot more outfits than you probably needed. Which would be a problem when it came to what to choose for the date, but you didn’t really care.
It was late in the afternoon when your phone buzzed on the table of the Samoyed café, and you picked it up as Miyoung cooed at the fluffy dog she was playing with.
It was Namjoon, asking you if you would be willing to go out with him this Friday.
“Oh my God,” you let out, and you felt your cheeks burning as your outburst had attracted the attention of other clients of the café. “He texted me,” you whispered then for only your friends to hear.
Sooah yelped, clapping her hands. She looked so far from the fierce manager you knew her to be you burst out laughing, slightly shaking your head.
“What did he say?” she asked.
You didn’t answer for a time, letting suspense hang in the air between you and your friends. When Miyoung got up, clearly aiming to grab your phone out of your hands and read the text herself, you finally spoke. “Looks like you’re going to have to clear my schedule this Friday night.”
Sooah shrieked as Miyoung grinned wildly.
“Consider it done!”
*****
                You were anxious. Had been anxious all week, and it had shown up in the painting you were working on. It had turned into a hectic mess of colours, inching closer to a dark cloud than to anything else. It represented your mental state well, even though you tried to keep reminding yourself that it was just Namjoon. If there was such a thing as just Namjoon.
Gosh.
You sighed, looking at yourself in your standing mirror. You were wearing one of the designer outfits you had bought earlier this week, and the skirt hugged your frame well, enhancing your curves. You had curves, you were aware of it, but you weren’t sure they were supposed to look this good. Paired with the white blouse and black blazer, you looked like you were going on a date with a CEO, and not Kim Namjoon.
Though, nowadays it felt almost as if one was a synonym for the other.
You liked the fit, you really did, you were just afraid Namjoon would think you were overdoing yourself. But somehow, you felt really comfortable, ready to conquer the world if need be. Maybe just not Kim Namjoon.
But it was too late to back out of the date. Indeed, the doorbell rang, indicating that he was here, and you met your gaze in the mirror one last time before going to open the door.
Namjoon looked … incredible. With a pair of dark dress pants along with a pale cardigan over a yellow polo. Over that, he was wearing a long coat that looked way too expensive, yet still fit the look. It was more of an artist look than yours, and yet it suited him perfectly.
He was an artist, too, after all.
Most of all, he was holding a bouquet of pale flowers – rose and white and lilac – and he handed it to you as he took in the sight of you.
“You’re beautiful,” he complimented, and he flashed you a corner smile that had just one of his dimples appear.
Your cheeks burned as you nodded once. “You as well,” you said, grabbing the flowers. You hesitantly inhaled them, satisfied with the sweet floral scent that took over your nostrils. You glanced over your shoulder, before opening the door wider for him to come in. “You can come in, I’ll just go put these in water.”
He nodded, stepping in as you retreated into your home, searching for an appropriate vase for the bouquet. Once it was safely tucked in a vase with room temperature water, you moved back to where Namjoon was still waiting, right next to the door. You smiled, a little awkwardly, before putting on the high heels you had chosen for the date.
Namjoon patiently waited for you, and once you straightened, you put on your winter coat, grabbing your purse where you had left it on the table near the door.
“Ready?” Namjoon asked when your gaze finally met his.
You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yes. Let’s go.”
He smiled his dimple smile, and he opened the door for you. You walked outside, waiting until he had shut it behind him so you could lock it. The cold air hit you right in the face, and you hid your face in the flaps of your coat. To your luck, Namjoon had picked you up in a company car, considering he didn’t drive, and you climbed in first, quickly followed by him.
You sighed at the warmth in the car, and watched as Namjoon leaned forward to tell the driver the address, before sitting back comfortably next to you.
Conversation was somehow awkward at first, mostly because you struggled holding Namjoon’s gaze. In all truth, you reckoned the awkwardness stuck around until you got to the restaurant, and even still as you were led to the private room Namjoon had rented for you both.
He helped you out of your coat, ever so the gentleman, hanging it before taking off his own and putting it beside yours. You just stood for a time, not knowing what to do as you took in the elegance of the restaurant and the dim, private atmosphere that reigned.
You felt like you had stepped right into a palace and, frankly, you weren’t sure you belonged in such a place.
“Sit!” Namjoon quickly said as he noticed you were still standing. And then he rushed to pull the chair for you, making you chuckle embarrassingly.
“You don’t…” you trailed off as you caught a whiff of his cologne.
A dark, masculine smell that made your head a little dizzy. You couldn’t tell why you hadn’t smelled it before – maybe it was because of the coat. All that you knew was that the oaky smell wrapped around you comfortably, refusing to let you go.
“What?” he asked as he sat in front of you, offering you an encouraging smile.
You took a deep breath, chest moving up and down as you tried to regain your composure. When you felt like you could speak without embarrassing yourself further, you said, “Since when are you such a gentleman?”
That made him laugh, full of dimples again, and he slightly shook his head. “Wasn’t I a gentleman when we were dating all those years ago?”
Not at all. He had been an awkward teenager, and you both knew it. As such, you cocked an eyebrow, a teasing smile growing on your lips.
“Were you?”
He winced, chuckling again. “Not at all. But I grew out of it.”
He sure had. He barely held any resemblance to the boy you had once known, except for those damned dimples that were making it hard for you to focus. And now the cologne? You were done for.
“Bangtan changed you, didn’t it?”
He nodded pensively. “I think that, having to be the leader of all these kids? Yeah, it really made me mature faster than I thought possible.”
You furrowed your brows in question. “I don’t know a lot about Bangtan but… isn’t Seokjin older than you?”
Before he could answer, a pretty waitress walked in, pulling a cart with different wine bottles on it. She greeted you two, stopping next to the table before asking you what you wanted to drink. You glanced at Namjoon, who offered you an encouraging smile, as if saying, ‘I’ll have whatever you have’.
“This Cabernet is actually my favourite. So we’ll take this one, please,” you asked, and the waitress offered you a bright smile as she picked up the bottle.
You watched as she put it on the table, eyes trailing to Namjoon longingly. A fan – she was clearly a fan. Namjoon offered her a professional, practiced smile, and she flushed red as she grabbed a wine opener to uncork the bottle. She carefully opened it, before pouring you two a glass.
It was awkward, somehow. And it was only then that you noticed there was jazz music playing in the background. It felt odd that you hadn’t noticed it before – had the beats of your heart been too loud for you to hear it?
When the waitress finally left, offering Namjoon one last look over her shoulder, you cocked an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.
“What?” he asked.
“Does this happen often?”
He chuckled, fingers playing with his glass as he evaded your gaze. “More than you can imagine.” He met your gaze then, and you watched his features as they softened. “But you don’t have to worry about us being here getting out in the media. The owner of the restaurant is an old friend, and she assured that all of her staff can be trusted.”
It hadn’t even crossed your mind, but you weren’t surprised that he had thought of it.
“That’s more of a relief for you than it is for me,” you pointed out.
He nodded, a warm smile on his lips. “You have a reputation too! You’re an artist, just like me.”
That made you snort as you shook your head, eyes falling to your untouched glass of wine. “I don’t think I am in the same category as you, Kim Namjoon. I’m just a painter.”
“You’re much more than just a painter, Maehwa.”
Your throat went dry at the way he said the words, as if they held so much meaning they were heavier than the world. And you wouldn’t be surprised if they did – Kim Namjoon had always been a poet, after all.
“I’m not a member of the most popular K-pop band in the world, though,” you reminded him, and dimples answered you as he humbly smiled.
“Evidently not.”
A comfortable silence moved between you – the first of the evening, you reckoned – and your eyes once more fell to your wine glass. You picked up, spinning the wine to bring out the aromas of it.
“Want to taste?” you asked him, motioning to his own glass.
He picked it up, nodding his head. “Please. I’m surprised to know you have a favourite wine.”
“Trust me, it’s worth it.”
He chuckled, and you clinked your glasses together before taking a sip. You let the rich taste roll on your tongue, appreciating every milliliter of it until you swallowed, and even the aftertaste was good.
A really good wine, indeed. Way too expensive, in your opinion, but you had always liked expensive things. As your designer clothes could tell, and as your date across the table could tell, too.
Not that you were a snobby artist – you were far from it. But you had learned how to appreciate the good things in life long ago when you had first discovered art.
“I like it,” Namjoon commented as he put down the glass. “Nice choice.”
You smiled, relieved that he indeed liked your choice.
As wine flowed between the two of you, you found conversation with Kim Namjoon was a lot easier than you had initially expected. He put you at ease, like he did when you were younger. Together, you reminisced about middle school and high school, about that time he had spilled hot chocolate on his uniform and you had helped him clean up, which had brought you guys closer.
Until he had kissed you as you were doodling maehwas on his arm, and the rest was history.
“No, but,” he insisted, his cheeks turning a pale shade of pink as he closed his eyes in embarrassment. His dimples winked at you, and you looked at him as he collected his thoughts. “To be fair, I never planned to break it. It wasn’t even my fault.”
You cocked an eyebrow. “You were the one holding it,” you reminded him.
You were referencing a fragile plate your mom had offered Namjoon, from her collection of nice plates she usually only displayed during fancy events. Namjoon had broken it a whole hour after he had been gifted it, and to this day, you still couldn’t understand how he had broken it.
“You tickled me!” he burst out, narrowing his eyes at you. “It was entirely your fault.”
You playfully rolled your eyes, before chuckling lightly. “I barely even touched you.”
He glared at you, though it didn’t last, melting into a soft smile that had you looking down at the table.
Right at the same time, a lean girl walked in, clad in a chef’s outfit, holding up the food you and Namjoon had ordered earlier. She offered you a polite smile, and it turned nostalgic as she looked towards Namjoon.
Namjoon said her name, before turning to look at you. “This is the friend I told you about.”
She was beautiful, in an easy, elegant kind of way. Her shoulder-length hair swayed nicely when she walked, and you had half a thought that she probably should be wearing something to make sure no hair could get in the food. Then you figured she probably had taken it off to come here, and you only realized that she had spoken to you when both she and Namjoon settled their gaze on you.
“Nice to meet you too,” you replied, because you were 75% convinced that that was what she had said.
You were relieved when she smiled knowingly, eyes trailing back to Namjoon. They talked a little more, and it took you a moment before you understood that she was one of Namjoon’s friends’ ex. They continued speaking after that, as you listened politely, nodding whenever she looked your way to encourage her to continue.
She looked sad. Nostalgic. Whoever her ex was, you had the intuition that she still loved him.
“Have a good evening,” she told the two of you about a minute later, bowing.
You bowed your head back, as Namjoon wished her good evening, and then you watched her walk out of the room, hair prettily moving around her head.
“She’s Seokjin’s ex,” Namjoon let out pensively once she was out of earshot.
Your eyes widened, and you looked back towards him. “Your bandmate?”
He nodded. “They broke up a few years ago, during the pandemic,” he explained. “They were engaged.”
You weren’t sure Namjoon was supposed to tell you any of that. It sounded personal, and he seemed to get the cue as you remained silent, eyes falling to the steaming plate in front of you.
“Anyway,” he said, chuckling awkwardly. “Shall we eat?”
“Yes,” you immediately replied, a little too quickly.
It had both of you laugh, and the awkwardness lifted to be replaced by that same familiarity the evening had held until Seokjin’s ex had come in. It had you fall back in your nostalgic memories, as you ate the delicious food on your plate.
When you were done eating, Namjoon suggested dessert, and not really wanting the evening to end yet, you accepted. It led to you both drinking a little more, your inhibitions slurring as alcohol rushed through your bloodstream, making you feel young and alive.
The feeling lingered with your lively chatter, with the exchanged laughs and long looks. Sometimes, Namjoon’s eyes burned on you, and you found you were too afraid to hold his gaze, too afraid to let it mean anything. Whenever it happened, you looked down at your glass, and the tenth time that it happened, you found the glass to be empty.
No salvation for you there. Especially considering that dessert was eaten and long gone, and all that had been left was the bottle of wine.
“So,” Namjoon said as he, too, took in the sight of the empty glasses and bottle. “I…” He chuckled, ears turning pink as his dimples flashed on his cheeks. “Thank you for tonight.”
You couldn’t help your own blush as you replied, “I’m glad I said yes.”
He met your gaze, eyes darting to your lips once. When they settled back on your own gaze, you swallowed a sudden lump in your throat.
“We should…” he started, falling silent as he scraped his throat. “We should do this again.”
The lump dissolved into nothingness as you smiled, softly. “I would love to.”
“What about on Sunday? There’s this exhibit I’ve been meaning to visit, thought you might want to join?”
“You want to bring an artist to another artist’s exhibit?”
He seemed surprised at your question, as if it hadn’t even crossed his mind. And truth be told, you liked visiting your fellow artists. There was just something about a shared passion that made you feel calm, understood. As if, no matter the sorrows your life could hold, there would always be someone out there who understood. Someone who could share the burden, who’d offer you a helping hand in the form of art whenever you needed it.
So you quickly added, before Namjoon could say anything, “I’m kidding, yes, I’d love to accompany you.”
He looked so relieved something warm blossomed in your chest, and your cheeks burned.
“Well then,” he said, smiling that dimpled smile. “I should get you home, it’s getting late.”
The perspective of the date ending made your heart squeeze in your chest, for a reason you couldn’t quite understand. “Right,” you agreed.
It was all you said before you both got up, moving to retrieve your coats by the door. After that, you walked towards the outside world, and when Namjoon’s hand accidentally grazed yours – or perhaps it was on purpose – you hooked a finger around his pinky.
Looking up to him, you caught him looking down at you already. From so close, he towered over you, though there was nothing threatening with his height. It felt comforting, safe, as if you were under his protection.
By the warmth in his eyes, you knew you truly were.
You waited in the lobby for the car to come pick you up, Namjoon with his back turned to the people. Though no one looked your way, no one acknowledged your presence, and for a second, you wondered if you really were with a worldwide famous singer or if Namjoon was just a normal person.
Someone like you, someone who could revel in anonymity wherever he went.
“The car is here,” Namjoon told you as you were looking behind him, observing the patrons slowly exiting, laughing about a joke only they knew.
You smiled up at him, before letting him grab your hand properly this time as he led you outside. His large palm engulfed your small one, warmed it up, and your fingers were tingling by the time you reached the car door that Namjoon opened for you.
He really wasn’t a gentleman when you were younger. There was something oddly relieving to see him act in such a way now, showing you that he had grown since you were sixteen and too dumb to actually know what love was.
You settled in the car, reveling in the warm vehicle as Namjoon sat in the seat right next to you. And when the car jostled forward, you became all too aware of the place where Namjoon’s thigh rested against yours, and of where his arm pressed against yours.
You turned your head to look at him, admiring the soft glow on his features induced by the neon lights outside. He met your gaze, offered you a smile, and you felt yourself leaning forward. As if there was a pull between you, something that was inevitable. You had never been good at resisting, so you let yourself be pulled, let yourself find him.
He met you halfway, lips infinitely and surprisingly soft even with the cold January night out there. He sighed against you, shifting slightly so he could angle his head better, deepening the kiss.
And kiss you he did, with memories and yearning and nostalgia that had you part your lips when his tongue swiped at your bottom lip, only to meet it with yours. You remembered days of early art, of words whispered in the dead of night when nothing seemed like it could bring you apart, when you believed it was you and him against the rest of the world.
Your breakup flashed in your thoughts as he rested a hand on your thigh, carefully, but you pushed it away, refusing to let the memory stain this moment with him.
As much as the kiss was unexpected, bubbling out of neon lights on Namjoon’s soft features, it was also expected. As if fifteen-year-old you had expected to find him again, somewhere, even though you had fled to an entire other high school.
As if the story had just been put on hold then, to resume once the time was right. And as much as you usually were wary in your relationships, tonight felt right. It felt right in all the ways that mattered, in his arm on your thigh and the soft smile he offered you when he pulled away, reminding you that you weren’t alone in the car.
You chuckled, blushing deeply, and your hand landed on top of his on your thigh.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.
You leaned into his touch, sighing dreamily. “I don’t know if it’s the wine,” you said, low enough to make sure only his ears could perceive your words, “but I really want to kiss you more.”
That made him laugh, and his hand fell away from your cheek. “Not here,” he said, head motioning to the driver. “You’ll have to wait until Sunday.”
You pursed your lips, thought about it for half a second before you said, “Do you want to sleep over tonight?”
His grip on your thigh slightly tightened, the only indication that your words had had an effect on him. “You’d like that?”
You parted your lips, tongue darting to wet them. “Yes.”
It was no wonder Namjoon ended up pinning you against your closed door as soon as you walked in, locking you between his strong arms as his lips ravished a hungry kiss on your mouth. You grabbed at the lapels of his coat, trying to pull him closer, right as he slipped one of his large hands to arch your back, pressing your front against him.
The second he left your lips to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw, you fought against his coat to rid him of the clothing. He sucked on your jaw as he helped you, and soon enough, the coat was abandoned on the floor, right as he pulled you in.
You kicked off your shoes, lips meeting again in a kiss that had your head spin, right as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He groaned when you bit on his bottom lip, and then picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He put you down on the decorative table near the door, and in an attempt to rid him of his shirt, you pushed a vase.
The sound that it made when it shattered on the floor startled both of you, and Namjoon looked down, eyes wide.
“Oh no,” he let out.
You caught his startled gaze, breathing raggedly. “Don’t worry, it was just a cheap vase.”
He looked down at the mess, nodding once. “I’ll buy you another one.”
And then he was finding your mouth again, sucking on your lower lip as he started to fight against your coat, trying to get you out of it. He shortly had to pull away, brows knitting together in concentration because, as much as he tried, the zipper of your coat wasn’t budging.
“Hold on,” you said, putting your hands above his.
Much gentler than him, you managed to unzip the coat, and he helped you slip out of it, throwing it towards his. His eyes dropped to your thighs, where your skirt had ridden up to reveal more skin, though you were wearing pantyhose. He ran his hand along your thighs, head hanging low. You watched him do so, watched his jet-black hair falling in his eyes until you couldn’t resist anymore, reaching between you to push it back.
The strands fell right back in front of his eyes, but it attracted his gaze. He looked at you through his hair, dragon eyes burning a hole through you, and you grabbed his cheeks to pull him into yet another heated kiss.
“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, and he subconsciously grinded against you, though the skirt and the fabric of his own pants kept you from feeling anything.
“You think we can make it to my room,” you whispered as he moved to your neck, kissing a hot kiss just below your ear.
“You’ll have to show me the way.”
You chuckled, gently pushing on his chest until he finally disconnected from your neck and took a step back. It allowed you to plop down from the table on which he had sat you, and you grabbed his hand, right as he dipped his head to kiss you again.
You kissed him back, moaning softly when his large hand cupped your ass, grabbing at the meat hard but not enough to hurt. It had even more heat pool at your core, liquid lava that was slowly making you unravel, and you needed more.
You pulled away from the kiss begrudgingly, mostly because you wanted to stay here, to be consumed with the passion Namjoon’s lips were carving against you.
You had to make it to your room before you went insane. So you pulled him behind you, not once looking back, or else you wouldn’t get there at all. Luckily enough, you held on strong, but the moment you crossed the threshold to your room, Namjoon pulled you against him, large hand resting on the base of your neck to keep you from moving away.
It took all of three seconds before your brain zeroed in on the spot where his hard dick was pressing against your back.
“Can you feel how much I want you?” he asked, voice low and husky, sending shivers all over your body.
You nodded, tilting your head to the side to give him access when he lowered his head. Too tall, he didn’t quite reach your neck, but his breath skimming over your skin made goosebumps erupt on you.
“I want you too,” you replied breathily.
You could hear a dangerous smirk in his voice when he said, “Take that skirt off”.
Something settled deep inside of you, making you into a puppet he could control. Stepping away from him, your hands went behind your back to unzip the skirt, and you let it fall to the floor. It pooled around your ankle, but when he stepped closer again, one hand squeezing the flesh of your ass, you found yourself unable to do anything.
“You should take off the pantyhose, too, before I rip them”, he added.
You didn’t doubt that Namjoon often miscalculated his strength. Even when he was just a gangly teenager, he already struggled with clumsiness. So you pulled the pantyhose down your legs, and you stepped out of the pile of clothing, waiting for him as he moved closer again.
This time, his hands slipped to your front, and he looked over your shoulder as he started undoing the buttons of your blouse, not even caring that you were still wearing the blazer. His breath skimmed on the side of your face as he did so, and your eyes fluttered closed as you focused on every brush of fabric against you while he worked his way down your blouse.
He pushed both the blouse and blazer off your shoulders when he was done, and they fell on the floor behind you. He didn’t seem to care as he wrapped his arm to your front, moving up until he grabbed your breasts through your bra, squeezing slightly.
“Get on the bed,” he commanded then, and still the good puppet you did, walking to the mattress and sitting down, eyes finally finding him again.
He didn’t say anything as he slowly undressed, pulling his cardigan off. It fell somewhere next to the pile of your clothing, and then he attacked the polo, taking it off in one swift motion that revealed the expanse of his wide chest.
His honey skin seemed to prettily gleam in the moonlight, where it was pulled taught over the big muscles of his chest. He looked sculpted in marble, big and buff, and you closed your thighs in reflex at the thought of his weight over you.
Needless to say, he didn’t look like that when he was a teenager at all. Adulthood looked good on him.
He unbuckled his belt next, taking his time as you just surveyed him. Even in the dim light from the full moon outside, you could see the bulge in his pants, and you salivated at the thought of wrapping your lips around him, of tasting him and making him feel good.
The belt fell with a thud to the ground, and your lips parted as he palmed himself, enhancing the size of his bulge. Your eyes widened slightly – he looked far bigger than you had initially thought he’d be, though you weren’t all that surprised with his large frame.
“Take off your bra,” he said next. “I want to see your breasts.”
You nodded, hands going to your back as you unclasped the bra. You slowly took it off, nipples perking when cold air hit them. You shivered once again as his eyes roamed over you, and even more so when he said, “Beautiful” as if you were a piece of art made for him to admire.
And with the way he was looking at you, you thought maybe, maybe you were.
He took a few steps towards you, and your eyes darted towards the lamp on your bedside table. Namjoon caught your motion, and he tutted lightly. “Not tonight,” he told you. “Tonight is about feeling, not about seeing.”
For some reason, you had expected him to be a lights-on kind of partner, but you weren’t mad about his will to stay in the dark. Because you knew all too well how much pleasure could course through your blood when your sense of sight was taken from you. As an artist, you relied on it far more than a lot of people – the loss of it made you weak, in a burning kind of way.
If you were honest, you enjoyed being blindfolded a lot, but you didn’t see yourself asking Namjoon to do it today. Lights off seemed the closest thing to it, so you didn’t argue with him as he used a knee to part your legs in an attempt to get closer to you.
He grabbed your chin, making you tilt your head back so he could catch your gaze. His eyes were dark, even in the silvery moonlight, and you gulped as he gently patted your cheek.
“You’re going to feel good for me, mmh?”
You nodded, entirely unable to use words right now. Mostly because you were but a puppet, and he the puppeteer. He smirked, satisfied, before unbuttoning his pants. Your eyes dropped, and you watched him do it expectantly, teeth gently digging into your bottom lip in apprehension.
The good kind, the one that made you burst into an explosion of flames.
“You think you can wrap your pretty lips around my dick?” he asked.
For a reason unknown, all you were able to mutter back was, “Namjoon.”
“Yes, baby?”
You gulped, and you looked up at him again. You didn’t watch as he took his pants and underwear off in the same motion, didn’t budge your gaze as you heard the slap of his hard dick on his abdomen. From the way his arm moved, large bicep popping slightly, you knew he was jerking off, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look down. Couldn’t bring yourself to gaze away from his eyes as they burned on you, searing their mark right on your soul.
“What is it?” he asked again, with a barely concealed warning in his voice.
He wasn’t one to have to repeat, was he? No, you were pretty sure Namjoon was used to being obeyed, with being the leader of a boyband like BTS. Pretty sure he expected to be obeyed, and somehow that turned you from puppet to puppeteer, as your hands rested on his thick, muscular thighs.
“You want me to suck your dick?” you asked, voice sultry as you moved your hands up, never touching him where he so visibly wanted.
His lips parted, though he remained surprisingly silent. He clearly didn’t expect you to take control of the situation, but from the way his features darkened even more, you knew he liked it.
“Want me to suck you dry?” you added. “Want to come down my throat?”
“Fuck,” he cursed, and he grabbed the base of his dick to gently tap it against the corner of your mouth. “Better get to work, baby. You’re a lot of talk for someone that hasn’t touched me yet.”
“Say please,” you teased, and you let one of your hands move between his legs so you could cup his balls. They sat heavy in your palm, seemingly ready to explode.
“Fuck,” he repeated, adding your name at the end. “Who would have thought you had this in you?”
 Emboldened by his words, you licked at his tip, collecting the precum on his slit. “That wasn’t please.”
He clenched his jaw, eyes shutting in frustration before he finally said, “Please, baby. Please suck my dick.”
You sucked on his tip once, tongue swirling around it, before pulling away. “Good boy.”
That was Namjoon’s undoing. He let go of his dick, grabbed your head, aligning his dick with your mouth as he repeatedly cursed under his breath. You liked him like this, liked the power you had over him. So you resisted, just to piss him off further, but it only seemed to turn him into a whiny mess as begging mixed with cursing.
                Only then did you finally start sucking him off, jaw straining from how big he was. It hurt, and your eyes watered as he reached the back of your throat with not even half of him in your mouth. All you could think of was that he was going to be quite a stretch down there, too, as you looked up at his features, casted in the soft silvery glow of the moon outside.
                You pulled almost all the way out, but the hand on the back of your head held you in place, forcing you to keep him in your mouth. You played with the head of his cock with your tongue, swirling it around it, teasing the slit as the salty taste of precum filled your mouth. You moaned, softly, and Namjoon cursed once more, before falling entirely silent as he watched you take as much of him as you could again.
Once he hit the back of your throat, you swallowed, eyes watering again as you tried to hold in your gag reflex. It didn’t really work, and when you choked, Namjoon pulled out of your mouth.
“You okay?” he asked.
“You’re so big,” you praised, and you grabbed his dick with a loose grip, jerking him off slowly. Mostly, you spread your saliva on his length, wanting to make sure he was well-lubricated for what was to come.
“Why don’t you sit?” you told him, letting go of his dick.
He looked conflicted for about a second before he did. You readjusted yourself so you were kneeling between his powerful thighs, and the new position allowed you to bite at the hard muscles of his abdomen. He hissed, hand going to the back of your head as he guided you towards his dick once more.
“Suck me, baby,” he said, still sounding just as whiny.
Feeling like a brat, you replied, “What do I get in exchange?”
His forehead creased as he furrowed his eyebrows, searching for something to reply. Though Namjoon was not a man of many words, always choosing his words carefully, right now, it seemed he was entirely silenced.
“I’ll fuck you good,” he finally answered, voice low. He bent a little, grabbing your face, and his thumbs stroked your cheeks. “I’ll fuck you good until your legs shake and you can’t walk anymore. Is that a good deal?”
You bit your lip as he let go of you, once again grabbing his dick so he could hold it up for you. Not moving towards it, you rested your head on his thigh, before reaching between his legs to cup his balls. They were heavy in your palm, and you gently massaged them, earning you a soft grunt from him.
“Careful with the balls,” he warned you.
You pouted before leaning between his legs. You avoided his waiting cock, instead aiming for the base of his dick, right between his two balls. You then licked a long stripe towards the top, and Namjoon cursed as you swirled your tongue on his frenulum.
“My bad,” you then apologized, letting go of his balls as you made a mental note that they probably were too sensitive for him to enjoy. “Let me make it up to you.”
He cocked an eyebrow in question, but the second your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock and you sucked hard, he threw his head back, cursing out loud. It finally convinced you to get to work, and you replaced his hand on his dick so you could jerk him off in time with the bobbing of your head.
As big as he was, you found you couldn’t keep going for much longer. So instead of taking all of him in – or as much of him as you could – you focused on his tip, jerking him off faster after having spit in your hand. Looking up at him, you noticed his teeth digging into his lower lip, a clear indication that he was enjoying himself, and then you closed your eyes, focusing on the job at hand.
Focusing on pleasuring Kim Namjoon.
You sucked him off for a while, long enough for his dick to turn rock hard under your ministrations. Long enough for him to be a panting and cursing mess, long enough for your jaw to hurt so bad you almost thought it was going to dislocate. When the pain grew too intense, you sat back on your heels, and stroked his dick, twisting your wrist as you reached the tip.
“So big I can’t even suck you properly,” you commented.
“I’ll stretch you wide open, baby,” he said, and he leaned back on his hands as he looked down at you. “I’ll stretch you so wide you’ll cry my name.”
It was so crass your hand slowed on his dick as you clenched your thighs. “Fuck, Namjoon.”
He smirked, dimples dangerously decorating his cheeks, but an expert motion of your hand had him close his eyes, mouth falling open on a low moan.
“Should I ride you?” you asked him. “I want to feel you inside of me.”
“You’ll need me to get you ready,” he answered once he was able to look at you again. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
You almost wanted to tell him that you were going to be okay, but he wasn’t wrong. Fucking yourself on him without having been previously fingered would definitely hurt like a bitch.
“Ride my face?” he suggested as you debated what to do.
You wet your lips, desire pumping through your blood before you told him, “Lie down.”
He didn’t need to be told twice, and you quickly climbed on top of him, straddling his face. His large hands cupped your ass, squeezing and parting your cheeks as he licked a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. He flicked his tongue against the bundle of nerves, and you hissed, fingers getting lost in his hair as you pushed it out of his eyes.
You maintained eye contact as you lowered yourself on him until you were properly seated on his pretty features. His tongue parted your folds, dipping in your entrance, and you instinctively grinded. He pushed the wet muscle deep inside of you, as deep as he could before arching it, searching for your sweet spot.
When you let out a soft moan, he flicked at the same spot again, and you grinded into his face once more.
“Fuck,” you told him. “Right there.”
He understood right away, and he started fucking you with his tongue, hitting that same spot again and again, making the corners of your vision blurry. All you could focus on were his eyes between your legs, and you moaned his name as his fingers dug into the skin of your ass. It hurt a little, and you wondered for a time if he was unaware of his strength.
You wouldn’t be surprised – he was a lot stronger than you had imagined he was.
As Namjoon kept working on you, eating you out and lapping your juices, you palmed your breast, rolling the sensitive nipple between your thumb and index. The added sensation had more of your vision turning blurry, making it hard for you to focus on Namjoon. So you closed your eyes, focusing on the pleasure moving through you, and soon enough, a knot started tightening in your core.
Instinctively, you started grinding into his face, following the rhythm of his tongue inside of you, and the knot tightened and tightened, almost painfully so. When Namjoon landed a surprising slap on your ass, you lost it, knot snapping as your orgasm hit you.
You came hard, walls pulsating around Namjoon’s tongue, and he milked all of your orgasm out of you, lapping your juices as you dripped on him. When you started getting oversensitive, you moved to sit next to him instead. Namjoon didn’t move right away, catching his breath, but when he did move, it was to wipe his chin with the back of his hand. He sat up after that, catching your lips in a quick kiss that left you breathless, mind spinning with the taste of yourself.
“Now I’m going to fuck you,” Namjoon promised.
All you could do was moan as one of his large hands moved between your legs. He pushed two fingers in, and they slid right in with all the lubrication your orgasm had just brought out of you. He fingered you for a few seconds as he littered small kisses on your shoulder and up your neck, and he nibbled at your ear once he reached it.
“You’re going to take all of me, mmh?” he asked right in your ear, voice so low and husky your walls clenched around his fingers.
“Yes,” you answered.
He pulled away, smirking in satisfaction before saying, “Get on all fours. I want to look at your ass while I’m fucking you.”
“You’d like that?” you teased him. “You want to see my ass bounce while you pound into me?”
Your two sentences were enough to silence him once more, and all he managed to do in reply was nod. It made you chuckle, and before you got into position, you crawled to your bedside table, fishing a condom out of the half-empty box you owned from a previous relationship.
“Put this on,” you told Namjoon as you handed him the condom.
He looked down at your hand. “What size is that?”
You cocked an eyebrow. “Regular.”
He laughed before shaking his head at you. You were about to argue when he got up, moving to his discarded pants so he could grab his wallet. “I need bigger than that, baby,” he told you as an explanation, and you rolled your eyes playfully as you put the condom back in your bottom drawer.
Namjoon fished an appropriately-sized condom from his wallet, and he was quick to get it out of the wrapper and put it on his hard length. He hissed a little as he rolled it down his dick, but once it was in place he moved back to the bed, kneeling behind you as you propped your ass up, keeping your face down.
“Gosh, you’re so sexy like this,” he praised you. “Ever since he saw you again, I’ve been wanting to see you like this.”
A drop of warning clouded your senses for a few seconds, but when he rubbed his dick between your folds, pushing it against your clit, lust took over once more. You grabbed at the sheets as he teased the sensitive bundle of nerves again and again, and when you had enough, you cursed.
“Fuck me,” you told him. “Fuck me before I change my mind.”
He slapped your ass. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”
Before you could reply, he pushed the fat tip of his cock between your folds, and you moaned at the burning sensation. It was the good kind of burning, the one that left stars dancing behind your eyelids and on the periphery of your vision. It made you clutch the sheets harder, and then Namjoon pushed in, embedding himself deep inside of you.
He grabbed your hips, fingers digging into the supple skin so hard you were pretty sure they were going to leave marks behind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All you did was moan loudly, especially as he pulled almost all the way out before slapping his hips forward again.
It was rough, and your body jerked forward from the impact of his pelvis on your ass. You couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything other than the stretch between your legs, and when he started pounding into you, you felt him so deep you cried out his name.
“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged you. “You take me so well.”
He slightly slowed down, but his hips still snapped forward in quick and harsh thrusts as he leaned forward, adjusting the position. When he was satisfied by the new angle, he resumed his previous speed, as one of his hands grabbed at your hair, pulling it in a makeshift ponytail so he could keep you in place.
He didn’t pull on your hair harder than that, didn’t force you look back at him, and for a moment, all that could be heard in the room was the sound of skin slapping on skin, and the moans and grunts you two were making. It was loud, and you were glad you lived in a house and not an apartment – you were pretty sure your neighbours would have heard otherwise.
When Namjoon landed another slap on your ass, you cursed loudly, and it made him still halfway out of you. He massaged the spot gently, soothing the skin with his warm fingers. “Do you want to switch position?” he asked.
As much as the current position felt good, you knew this angle would never make you cum. So you nodded your head, and Namjoon pulled out of you, sitting back on his heels. You turned towards him, and your eyes fell to his hardened length. To your juice coating the condom, and you got an idea.
“Lean back on your hands,” you ordered.
He cocked an eyebrow in question, yet he still obeyed. When he was properly positioned, you climbed on top of him, grabbing his cock to guide it towards your entrance. You help onto his shoulder with your other hand, and you slowly sunk on him until his cock hit your cervix. It hurt a little, the angle different from earlier yet making you feel so much more, and you grabbed onto his other shoulder.
“Shit,” you cursed.
“You okay?”
You nodded. “You’re so fucking deep.” And then you leaned back a little, and both of your gazes dropped to the space where your bodies were connected. To the bulge in your tummy as you slightly leaned back. “So fucking big we can see you in me.”
He moaned and threw his head back as you moved up, only to slam back down a second later. He put all of his weight on one hand, and his other settled on your waist, following you as you established a slow and sensual rhythm, rolling your hips whenever he was deep inside of you. It had his big cock rubbing against that sweet spot inside of you, and when the corners of your vision turned white, you started moving faster.
You grabbed onto his neck, not squeezing, and you felt him swallow under your palm. Your pleasure increased tenfold as the hand on your waist moved to cup your breast, and when he squeezed your nipple, you clenched your walls hard against his dick.
“Fuck,” he let out, and he looked at you.
The moment his gaze met yours, you started choking him, increasing your speed to chase your orgasm. His mouth fell open, and his dick reached deep inside of you as you kept going, kept splitting yourself on him.
When your orgasm hit, you wrapped an arm around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. He circled your waist, fucking up into you as much as he could in this position. He rode you through your high, and you were a shaking mess when he finally slowed down, hand rubbing your back soothingly.
“Lie down for me,” he gently said.
You were too lost in ecstasy to argue, and you craved his dick the second it was out of your pussy. He wasn’t out for long, and he kneeled between your legs, holding them to his chest as he pushed in in one powerful thrust. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with the sensation, and you moaned out his name as he established an unforgiving rhythm.
When his teeth sunk into your calf in a clear attempt to muffle his own moans, you clenched hard around him, and it was enough to get him close. To your surprise, he pulled out of you, quickly taking off the condom, and he pumped his dick, emptying his load on your stomach and pelvis. The feeling of every hot spurt on you had you reach between you, and when some landed on your fingers, you quickly brought them to your mouth, getting a taste of him.
Namjoon grunted, and he slowly decreased the rhythm of his jerking off until he was just holding his dick over you, one last drop of cum meeting the rest on your stomach. You didn’t move for a long time, both of you trying to catch your breath. It took a while, but once your pulse had stopped racing, you propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at the white mess on your stomach.
“You made quite a mess,” you teased him.
“Sorry,” he sheepishly said. “Was that okay?”
You nodded. “As long as you clean it up, yes.”
He laughed, bending so he could retrieve some tissues from your nightstand. He first cleaned his fingers, and then your stomach, making sure not to leave a single drop behind. Still, you felt sticky, and when you offered him to take a shower, he agreed right away.
You let the warm water run on your body, taking with it your sweat and Namjoon’s cum, as you ran your hands through your hair. You sighed, opening your eyes to the sight of him as he looked down at you, a fond smile on his lips.
“Can you pass me the shampoo?”
He nodded, but instead of giving it to you, he motioned for you to turn. “I’ll wash your hair.”
The domesticity of the action had your cheeks burning, and all you could do was hope he hadn’t noticed. You still turned, and when he started massaging your head, you shut your eyes, sighing in contentment. When he was done, he made you turn around so he could wash the shampoo out of your hair, making sure you didn’t get any in your eyes. After that, you switched place so he could wash his own hair, while you busied yourself with cleaning your body, erasing what was left of the action that had transpired between you and Kim Namjoon.
You didn’t speak more in the shower, though you did exchange a slow kiss once you were both entirely clean. Namjoon’s lips seemed more hesitant now, but as you wrapped your arms around his waist, it was his turn to sigh in contentment. His kiss grew more affirmative now, as if he was trying to tell you that he, too, felt a certain way with you.
Because right now, you felt like you were floating, like you were an astronaut in zero gravity. It was dizzying, but in a beautiful way as you held onto him, and he held onto you. It was filled with memories of the past, yes, but also of promises of the future.
That was when you remembered what he had said right before you had started having sex. How he had been imagining you like this ever since you had met again, thirteen years after you’d disappeared from his life. The previous wariness returned, and you pulled away from the kiss to rest your forehead on his chest. He let you do it, unaware of the drop of doubt that was solidifying into lead in your stomach.
After the shower, you lied in bed, Namjoon by your side, unable to form a sentence. Unable to breathe your worries into words, unable to share with Namjoon that you were afraid he only wanted you for sex. And you tried, you really tried to speak, but all you could do was slowly breathe in and out, trying to calm your racing heart before it burst inside your chest.
Right when you thought you had gathered enough courage, Namjoon softly snored next to you, and you realized that, after all, it was too late to share your concerns.
*****
                You stared at the scenery out of the window. You hadn’t been to Ilsan in a long time, but when Namjoon had mentioned he was going to visit his family, offering you a ride – a company official ride, considering he couldn’t drive – you hadn’t been able to say no. So you watched Ilsan from the window of your parents’ kitchen, remembering growing up.
Remembering days of childhood innocence, and of teenager crushes. Of teenager fights, and breakups that had shaped who you had turned out to be. It was strange to think that you were going to circle your way back to Namjoon, that you were going to come here to Ilsan, with him.
You hadn’t told your parents. When they had seen you arrive, they had asked how you had gotten here, considering your car was nowhere to be seen. You had lied through your teeth, saying that you had taken the train, and they hadn’t pushed, knowing that you indeed often took the train anyway, in an attempt to clear your head and sketch some ideas for your next art piece.
Instead, you had been at the back of a company car, chatting the ride away with Kim Namjoon as if it wasn’t only the tenth time you had seen him again after your breakup thirteen years ago. It was like you had never parted – complicity between Kim Namjoon and you was easy as breathing, as natural as the sun shining in the sky overhead. And the sun had shone all the way home, as if to tell you that your worries meant nothing.
But your worries were still haunting you. Hadn’t stopped haunting you since you had sex with him, chasing you through your days, taunting you through your nights. You weren’t able to escape them, especially not as he acted the way that he did.
That is, as if you were far closer than you were. As if the years hadn’t come and gone, as if thirteen years had been just the blink of an eye. It was strange to you, stranger still, that whenever you were with him, you tended to forget too. Tended to bask in his warmth, and it was no wonder your relationship was so physical.
Indeed, sometimes you even thought that it was all there was. Because each time you had seen him after your date had been physical, his body on top of yours as he fucked your brains out. As you climbed on top in an attempt to gain control, but you doubted you’d ever have the control when it came to Kim Namjoon.
So you looked outside the kitchen window, trying to remember who you were. Trying to remember what you wanted, and trying to figure out what you should eat for dinner later.
You were here for four days, and though you had brought supplies so you could paint here, hoping your childhood home would bring you inspiration, all you had been able to do was worry about Kim Namjoon and what he meant in your life.
You weren’t sure it mattered. Because even though your relationship was purely physical, it still brought you satisfaction. Always left you swimming in ecstasy, always made you sleep soundly for a few days.
It had been weeks since your date. Almost two months, actually. Namjoon had texted you regularly, though the conversation never really delved into subjects that mattered. He was too busy to hang out often, but he made you feel as if he was making time for you. Yet you couldn’t shake what he had said out of your mind.
Did you want to just be someone Kim Namjoon saw when he needed to fuck? When he needed to paint himself on you, to bring more confusion into the mess of art your mind had been since the date?
The answer was easy. No, you didn’t wish to be just that. You’d never been one to have fuck buddies, and every time you saw Namjoon, the impression was reinforced. Perhaps because he made small comments, about how he was glad he could fuck you, glad you were in his bed.
Glad you moaned out his name whenever you came, and evidently, he made you come plenty enough. But yet you needed more, and you hated yourself for it.
Why complicate something that was so easy? So you remained silent, never said anything, though you did hold onto him as much as you could when you slept in his arms, trying to remind yourself that if he just wanted sex, he wouldn’t sleep over, or ask you to stay.
Would he have offered to drive you to Ilsan if you were nothing to him? You highly doubted so. Especially considering how he had talked to you, how comfortable he was next to you.
You sighed, looking away from the window as you turned towards the living room. Your father was napping on the couch, and your mother had gone to the market, declining your offer to come with as she had claimed you needed to work on your paintings.
You had been staring at the canvas for an hour before you had come to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, and you had already finished it as you had watched the world outside the kitchen window, lost in thought. You figured taking a walk would help clear your mind, and you hoped you’d find inspiration by the time you were back home.
Though the weather was warmer outside than it was weeks ago, when you had your date with Namjoon, you still wrapped a thick scarf around your neck, burying yourself in the warm coat you had brought here. You put on your Chelsea boots, and the minute you stepped outside, you loosened the scarf.
The air smelled fresh and hinted at spring. There was no snow, most of it having melted under the peculiar warmth, and by the time you made it to the end of the street, you unzipped your coat too, feeling too hot.
You turned to your left, bowing your head slightly at the older couple that you passed. They reciprocated, but you didn’t pay attention to them more than necessary as you walked towards the park behind your middle school. The middle school where you and Namjoon had first fallen in love when you were dumb and young.
Ten minutes later, the building came into view, and memories swarmed in, chasing Namjoon out of your thoughts. Well, chasing current Namjoon out of your thoughts as you remembered your classes, and the teacher that you had always hated. As you remembered sitting on the bleachers of the soccer field, chatting the evening away when you were supposed to be home.
It was no surprise that you found yourself making your way to those bleachers, and you sat as high as you could, eyeing the empty field. It was the middle of the week, and the soccer field was empty save for birds searching for worms in the wet grass.
You leaned back on your hands so you could look up, gazing at the few clouds in the sky. Wind played with your hair, blowing it in your face, but you ignored it, focusing on the fresh air. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you inhaled deeply.
You were calm and content... until you let out a startled cry as someone said your name. Your eyes flew open to the sight of Kim Namjoon at the bottom of the bleachers, looking up at you.
“You scared the shit out of me,” you told him, hand on your racing heart. “What are you doing here?”
“I was just out on a walk,” he informed you. “Didn’t expect to run into you.”
He walked up the bleachers, sitting next to you before you replied. “Your parents are bothering you?” you teased, gently nudging him.
“Nah,” he said, laughing. “I’ve been songwriting since I got here? Can’t get this song right, so I decided to walk. Thought it’d help clear my mind.”
Of course, he was out and about for the same reason as you. Because you and Kim Namjoon were far more similar than you wanted to believe it. Sometimes, it led you to think that you were two of the same person, and usually, whenever you thought that you had to rein yourself in, reminding yourself that all he did with you was have sex.
“Couldn’t paint,” you admitted.
“Your parents are bothering you?” he asked, repeating your question with a corner smile and a single dimple.
This time, you pushed him, laughing before replying, “You’re annoying.”
He grinned, though you both fell silent as your gazes moved up to the sky, and you enjoyed the afternoon warmth. You knew the night would get cold, but you still had a few more hours of sunlight before the world gave way to darkness.
“You know,” he said as your eyes chased a white cloud on the cerulean expanse of the sky. “I was hoping we could hang out, while we’re here?”
He said it like a question, as if asking for permission, and it had your heart race in your chest. “Aren’t you afraid of your parents asking questions?”
“Not really,” he answered. “They know that you came with me. They want me to invite you over for dinner.”
Your gaze widened as it dropped to him. He was already looking at you, a small, hopeful smile on his lips. “Is that something that we’re supposed to be doing?” you enquired.
It seemed to take him by surprise. “What do you mean?”
You reckoned now was a good time as any to voice your concerns. Perhaps because the scene was familiar, safe, and you couldn’t deal with the concern gnawing at your nerves anymore.
“What are we, exactly?” you said, softly, finally giving voice to the worries.
Namjoon’s eyes went round as blush crept on his cheeks. “What?”
The drop of lead from that first date grew inside of you. “It’s just… we’ve only been hanging out for sex, correct?”
“Is that what it is for you?” he enquired after a few seconds of silence, of him just watching you with a somber expression.
You chuckled awkwardly. “To be entirely honest, I don’t do this. So no, I’d hope it’s not that, but…” you trailed off, eyes falling to the field in front of you. “You haven’t really made me feel like you’re in this for more than just sex.”
He leaned forward as if trying to gain your attention. As your gaze remained stubbornly on the empty field, he said your name once. His voice was soft, gentle, and that, more than anything, made you turn to look at him.
“I thought we were… dating?” he admitted. “I… I’m sorry if I just… assumed?”
It was such a Namjoon thing to do that you couldn’t even blame him. His revelation made the lead melt away to be replaced by a sweet warmth much like the one the sun rays carried. “Oh?”
As you didn’t say anything else, Namjoon straightened, putting a little distance between the two of you. “Unless that’s not what you want?”
In truth, yes, it probably was what you had been wanting since the beginning. Since he had arrived at your house with the flowers before the date, and since his lips had found yours for the first time again after thirteen years apart. You had been wanting him, more than just physically.
“I mean…” You chuckled awkwardly again, shrugging your shoulders. “Yes, that’s what I want.”
He grinned, dimples flashing blindingly, even more so than the sun in the sky up above. “Good. So you’ll come over for dinner?”
This time you laughed, and you cocked an eyebrow. “With just a few hours notice?”
“Yeah?” He shrugged. “My parents already know you, what does it change?”
And when you held his soft gaze, you decided why not? Why not dive in feet first, and not care about the consequences?
You doubted there’d be anything negative to come out of a dinner with Namjoon’s parents. And turned out you were right – both of them were happy to see you, and Namjoon’s mom kept repeating how proud she was that Namjoon had found you again, in Seoul. To Namjoon’s dismay, she told you about just how much Namjoon had cried after your breakup, and about how much it had encouraged him to become a rapper. Namjoon was red up to the tip of his ears as you looked at him, yet he didn’t scold his mother, didn’t tell her to stop.
And this, most of all, was the Namjoon you remembered from thirteen years ago. A shy, sweet boy who was always good to his elders, always polite and ready to help. He did help his mother, doing the dishes along with you after you’d eaten, and when it was time for you to leave, his father scolded him and told him to walk you home.
Namjoon grumbled that he was already going to do so, and you said your goodbyes to his parents before walking out into the night. It was a lot colder than it had been during the day, and you buried your hands in the pockets of your coat as you walked close to Namjoon, his arm brushing yours with every step that you took.
“Sorry about that,” Namjoon apologized.
You glanced up at him, gazing at the aura around his head caused by the streetlight behind him. “About what?”
He shrugged. “The dinner. I didn’t expect my parents to be weird about it.”
“They weren’t,” you reassured him. You walked in silence for a time, eyes moving back to the street in front of you. It was empty, even though it wasn’t particularly late at night. Perhaps it rendered you bolder, because you said, “I’m really happy I said yes. I missed them.”
He smiled, softly. “They missed you too.”
A comfortable silence moved between you, and you basked in it as you made your way home, with your teenage lover by your side. It was hard to believe that he was next to you right now, and just like that, you knew what you were going to paint when you were home.
“The night is beautiful,” Namjoon said softly. “Makes it feel like we never left, you know?”
“Like it hasn’t been thirteen years, right?”
He nodded. “The weight of the years does feel lesser since we’ve reconnected.”
His words had warmth blossom in your chest, heating up your body in the cold early spring night. They had you glance at him, and when you found him already looking at you, you stopped. He stopped just a step ahead of you, turning to look at you.
“Do you think we were just right people, wrong time?” you asked. “I’ve been thinking… it’s been so easy with you, since our date. It’s strange to believe that it would be, no?”
“The years haven’t changed us as much as you’d imagined they would,” he agreed. “Like…” he glanced up at the sky, searching for words to voice his feelings. “BTS came into my life after you. I’d say it changed me, made me grow up far faster than I thought I would. Being the leader and all, I had a lot of responsibilities on me, you know?”
You nodded, not really knowing where he was going.
“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be the leader,” he continued, revealing something you weren’t sure he had said out loud to anyone before. “I wish I didn’t have this weight on me and… in November, when I saw you again, I was going through a hard time. I didn’t entirely recognize you at first, but I was drawn to your gallery again and… I tried to find a reason to visit. To find a reason to talk to you.”
His eyes met yours again, and you almost balked at the intensity of his gaze.
“I felt lighter with you than I’d felt in years. So, when you say right people, wrong time, I think you’re right. I think thirteen years ago was all fucked up for us, but I think we were always meant to find each other again, through all the craziness of the world.”
You didn’t hesitate. You grabbed the lapels of his coat, pulling him down in a kiss. He kissed you back instantly, though his lips were slow against yours. Soft, anchoring you in this moment, in this space that had used to be yours when you were younger. He kissed you like time had slowed for you, like you had all night to stay right here, in this spot.
Your heart found a soothing rhythm in your chest, one echoed in his own ribcage, and his large hands found your waist to pull you closer. When he slipped his tongue in your mouth, you sighed dreamily, the taste of him so heavenly now that the lead in your stomach was gone that you thought you were going to start flying right here, right now.
Namjoon pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, and your breaths moved up in the sky, forming a single cloud over your heads.
“Had I known that you were worried I wasn’t into you like this, I wouldn’t have had sex with you every time we hung out,” he admitted, softly.
That, more than anything else, finished reassuring you.
“Hey,” you let out. “It’s okay. I should have spoken to you about it before.”
He pecked your lips once more before pulling away. He offered you his hand, and you gently took it as he smiled at you, his dimples so familiar on his cheeks that you wanted to drown in him.
“Let’s get you home,” he said. “I wouldn’t want your parents to worry.”
“I’m an adult now,” you reminded him, earning a laugh as he pulled you towards your house.
He shrugged. “They are still your parents; they’ll always worry for you.”
His words held truth, so you didn’t resist as he finished walking you home. You stood in front of the gate, looking at each other, and Namjoon gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers grazed down your face until they rested on your jaw, and he leaned down to press another gentle kiss on your lips, one that had you wish you didn’t have to part with him for the night.
One day, you liked to believe you wouldn’t have to part at all.
*****
                Being in a relationship with Kim Namjoon was easy. The weeks following your trip to Ilsan had you growing ever so closer, and you accompanied him to a dinner with all of his members. There, you saw what it meant for him to be the leader, but you kept your hand in his, bearing the weight of it along with him, even though it wasn’t like he had to keep them in check in private.
You had left early as you needed to go to your studio early in the morning, but had been unable to part with Namjoon, which wasn’t all that surprising to you or him. You both liked sharing a bed, liked the closeness that it allowed you. So you stayed the night, and the next day you made your way to your studio level-headed, ready to paint all day after your meeting with your manager. Your phone was dead, but you knew she wasn’t one to miss a meeting, and you figured you could always charge your phone when you got to the studio.
To your surprise, Sooah wasn’t alone when you got there. There was a suit-clad man, and he bowed his head at you respectfully as you walked in. You threw a curious look to Sooah, and the expression on her face made your heart drop to your ass, if that was possible.
“Hi,” the man politely said. “I’m glad you’ve finally showed up.”
He sounded annoyed, and it grated your nerves right away. You cocked an eyebrow before saying, “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”
“I am Jo Jonghyuk,” he answered, offering his hand for you to shake. “Hybe representative.”
You let out a nervous chuckle. “What’s bringing you here?
Sooah was the one to answer. “There’s been leaked pictures of you and Namjoon,” she informed you carefully. “They are… all over the media this morning.”
A drop of cold sweat rolled down your spine. “Excuse me?”
You hadn’t noticed it before, but the man had a briefcase. He quickly opened it, getting a stack of papers out of it that he handed to you unceremoniously. You looked at them, eyes widening as you saw the series of pictures, all of them of you and Namjoon.
And your face was far too recognizable. You couldn’t pretend it wasn’t you, couldn’t pretend you had no idea what the man was talking about. So when he asked if there was a space where you could sit down to discuss, you let Sooah suggest heading downstairs. You followed them with fear in your gut, and even when you were sitting on the couches downstairs, you still couldn’t stop your heart from racing in your chest.
“So,” the man said. “We’re aware that our artists have lives outside of the company.” He paused, watching you carefully. “But we need to preserve their image. I’m sure you can understand?”
Sooah saved you by replying. “What is that supposed to mean for Y/n?”
“Namjoon is currently in a meeting with other representatives. He will be asked the same thing as you,” the man offered as an explanation.
You cocked an eyebrow. “And what is it that I’m going to be asked?”
“Keep the relationship behind closed doors.” The man motioned around you. “As an artist, I’m sure you understand how one’s image is important. The stocks are going to be impacted if it is said that Kim Namjoon is in a relationship, and not for the better. We are going to release a statement later in the day to refute the rumours.”
It wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be, yet you still felt sick, down to your very core. “And this needed an early morning meeting?”
You’d like to think that you sounded arrogant, defiant, but your voice was filled with nerves, shaking pathetically.
The man offered you a polite smile. “No. I’m here to have you sign an NDA.”
That made more sense. And still, it wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be – it wasn’t like you were going to scream about your relationship with Namjoon. After all, it still was fairly new, and you also wanted to preserve your anonymity.
In that instant, as the man pulled out said NDA from his briefcase, you understood something. Your anonymity was gone, gone like the winds of winter as the world outside slowly turned to spring.
Your face was visible in the pictures. People had seen you around the gallery, outside of official events, when you wore your mask.
You signed with a trembling hand, barely recognizing your own name on the paper, and the man offered you a copy of it before saying that he had to go. He thanked you for your cooperation on the way out, and when he was gone, disappearing at the bend in the street, you turned towards Sooah.
“I’m fucked,” you said.
She pursed her lips, concern moving on her features. “You are not. There’s no indication that people will associate you with Maehwa. I don’t think this will affect the gallery.”
You shook your head. “You don’t understand.” You scoffed, gaze dropping to the floor as the lead you had felt after your first date with Namjoon rematerialized, turning into a reality you didn’t think you were ready to gaze at. “It’s just a matter of time. His fandom discovers everything. They will know it’s me.”
“Then we’ll use it as publicity.”
Your eyes widened as you looked at your manager. “You can’t be serious.”
“Your art is beautiful,” she reminded you. “You’ve been building your reputation for years. Why would you being a human, having relationships, impact it?” She paused as if to give weight to her question. “It’s just going to put emphasis to the emotion in your art. People won’t see you as a masked individual anymore, but rather as the person behind the artist.”
You didn’t want to hear her. Knew she was being rational, yet couldn’t bear the truth in her words. Perhaps because you had always loved your anonymity. Always wanted to keep it, to use it to protect yourself from the world of fame, a world you had never wanted for yourself.
No, you just wanted to make art. To enjoy the science behind the pieces, the emotions that made you create. You were afraid it was going to be taken from you now. And who were you to blame? It was just a question of time before people connected the dots between you and Namjoon, thanks to the pictures, yes, but also to the interview that had yet to be released.
“Deep breaths,” Sooah said calmly, cutting through your spiraling. “I promise it’ll be okay.”
“What if it’s not?” you asked. “What if I can’t paint anymore?”
“You’ve been painting your whole life,” she reminded you. “You won’t suddenly stop because of rumours about you.”
See, that was the logical way to think about it. You clung to the words, held them close to your heart and let them replay in your head. It eased the anxiety that was building inside of you, and soon enough, your frantic breathing returned to normal.
“Shit.”
Sooah raised her eyebrows, waiting to make sure your spiraling truly was over. When you didn’t say anything else, she nodded once, patting you on the shoulder. “It’s all going to work out. And besides, congrats on your relationship with Namjoon?”
She said it like a question because, frankly, you hadn’t told Miyoung or Sooah a lot about you and Namjoon, except that you were taking things slow. It was the best you had been able to come up with, back when you thought he was only seeking carnal union with you, and you hadn’t changed the narrative after you and Namjoon had made it official in Ilsan.
And later, as you worked on the painting you had started in Ilsan, you pictured the cold night, when he had kissed you under the streetlamps. When you had realized that you had truly been wrong all along, that life was a cycle bringing you back to him. Back to where it had all started. You remembered his soft lips on yours, and that, most of all, finished calming you down from the anxiety.
Every stroke of your brush on the canvas, every new line, meant a thousand words, as you painted. As you created art from nothing but the memories your art held, as you put them together to form the image that had come to you that cold night. It was beautiful, in a heavy kind of way, because the emotions were heavy. The love, the recognition and the knowledge of life and the cycle of it, all entwined together to form something that only you and Namjoon could understand.
And as you worked, forgetting all about the world outside, all about the threat to your anonymity, you believed everything was going to be alright…
Almost.
*****
                “Thank you,” you thanked the young girls after they were done perusing your gallery.
It had taken all but a few hours for your artist self to be associated with Kim Namjoon and your gallery. On the same day, you had received more visitors than you had ever had, and though you had donned your mask, you knew it was pointless.
Knew from the looks and the whispers that people knew. Still, for the next following days, you kept wearing your mask. Kept trying to ignore how people weren’t here for your art anymore, but rather for you as a person. For your connection to Kim Namjoon, for what you meant to him and what he meant to you.
Namjoon had been understanding when you had told him how anxious the situation was making you. Had suggested avoiding public spaces altogether, and so far, you had only been able to see him once for dinner two days ago.
The dinner had been spent in far more silence than usual, while you both contemplated what this meant for you. You had settled on really taking it slow, letting the rumours die of their own volution instead of doing more about them. Because Hybe had released a statement, and already Dispatch was on the newest rumour, forgetting all about your possible connection with Kim Namjoon.
Except for the fans, that is. Because the fans came to your gallery, complimented your art, though you did see them snickering in your back. Before, you had believed you were above this, above petty gossiping and jealous bullying, especially coming from younger people. After all, younger people were that – young, and youth often held an amount of stupidity that was rarely found elsewhere.
As it had been the case for you and Namjoon, thirteen years ago.
Still, you found you were increasingly anxious, and instead of expecting Namjoon’s next message, his next call, you started dreading them. It was vicious, poisoning your blossoming relationship without him even being aware of it.
How could you blame him? He was used to this life, after all.
You sighed in your mask, hating the way your eyes burned. They burned more now that you wore the mask more often, drying out whenever you breathed out too strongly. You had gotten artificial tears, and you couldn’t wait to be able to lubricate your eyes as you watched the last few people milling about your gallery.
It was almost closing time, and you were looking forward to it more than you usually did. Mostly because you wanted to bask in calmness and silence for a while, if only to be able to get a grip on the anxiety.
Two older women approached you, hands behind their backs, where you stood by the big painting of Ilsan. They bowed politely, and to your relief, asked you if one of the pieces was for sale. Art enthusiasts, then. It was reassuring to see some of them in your gallery, even after all the recent events.
“Yes,” you answered them politely. “It’s currently on auction for the month. You can put in your own bid if you’d like.”
The smallest one pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side. “How expensive was the last bid?”
Even though this was supposed to be Sooah’s job, you still had access to the app where the bidding took place. So you took your phone out of your pocket, heart dropping in your chest when the screen lit up to show you three texts from Namjoon. You ignored them, swiping the phone open before clicking on the app.
As it loaded, you looked up to smile at the women. “Just a moment.”
They nodded in understanding, yet one of them looked over her shoulder as if annoyed. You felt bad, but it wasn’t like you controlled the technology. All you could do was wait, and the second the app opened, you scrolled down to the current bidding.
You hadn’t checked it since the bidding had started. Lowest bid had been set at 5 million won, but right now, the number you were reading on the screen didn’t even make any sense.
“Huh,” you let out, and you looked at the women, chuckling awkwardly. “It seems the bid for this piece has gone out of the roof.”
That was putting it lightly. Because, looking at the amount on your phone, you believed the bid had been sent to outer orbit.
The smaller woman winced. “How high?”
“1.2 billion won,” you replied. You checked your phone to make sure and even showed the screen to them.
“Oh,” she said. “We can’t afford that.”
You offered them an apologetic smile. “I have more pieces that are on sale and not on auction if you want me to show you.”
The one that seemed like she wanted to leave suddenly widened her gaze. “Oh, that would be lovely.”
They ended up buying a smaller drawing, saying that they were sure the value of it would skyrocket if they ever wanted to sell it. You wanted to tell them that it probably was just a bubble caused by the rumour and that it’d soon burst. Evidently, you couldn’t tell them that, both because of the NDA and because you were growing tongue-tied with the praise they were sending your way. Instead, all you did was offer them a wink, saying that you hoped they’d hold onto it dearly, and then you walked them to the door as it was closing time anyway.
When the door was locked behind them, you leaned against it, sighing shakily. With trembling hands, you fished your phone out of your pocket, and you went through the different pieces you had on auction. Half of the profits were going to a charity for abused women, and still, it’d leave you with much more money than you ever thought you’d own.
You called Sooah, but it was her day off. You didn’t expect her to pick up, as she had told you she was going to be busy tonight, and of course, she didn’t. You still sent her a text to tell her to check the auction app, and then you pushed up from the door, heading to your studio downstairs.
You sat cross-legged on the floor, amidst the brushes and pots of paint you had left hanging around, not really caring about cleaning after yourself when you were in the arms of inspiration. But right now, the mess was making you feel like an imposter, like people would soon find out that you weren’t worth it.
It was then that you finally checked what Namjoon had sent you.
I hope all is well, his first message read. It was followed by, I’ll be in the studio until later tonight, but would you like to hang out after? Finally, his last message was, I’m going to come over to your studio after closing hour with take-out
For some reason, the thought of him coming here made you want to disappear through the floor, but it was already too late. Indeed, your phone started vibrating in your hand with an upcoming call, and his name on the screen taunted you, telling you that, yes, you were just an imposter.
You picked up, hands shaking slightly as you brought the phone to your ear.
“Busy night,” Namjoon said as a greeting.
You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. You’re on your way?”
“I’m outside,” he admitted. “Just waiting for some people to walk away before I come in. I assume it’s locked?”
You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ll come open for you.”
There was an awkward silence as if he expected you to say something more. When you didn’t, he said, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you lied, and cringed at yourself. You weren’t a liar, hated lying, and lying to him felt like you were eating something foul. “Just tired.”
“Well, I hope you’re excited for some take-out. I got your favourite.”
Now, your heart ached in your chest. Because that was Namjoon. Namjoon would always get your favourite food, would always know what to do to cheer you up. Tonight, it felt wrong, as if you didn’t deserve it.
And really, did you deserve it at all? Did you deserve the attention that he had brought to you? Did you deserve the shine in the spotlight?
You highly doubted so.
Walking upstairs felt like a trek to the top of Mount Everest. You were aware that it was anxiety, that you probably shouldn’t listen to the thoughts right now. But they were taunting you, haunting you, a thousand little ghosts spinning around your head in dizzying circles until all that was left was a broken piece of you.
The sight of Namjoon, hood up and mask on, on the other side of the door wasn’t a relief. It was a hand clutching your throat, choking you up until you were left gasping for air on the ground. You stalled for a few seconds, and you wondered if he could feel your hesitancy. If he knew the spirals you had been going down, if he knew you were questioning everything.
You clenched your jaw, sighed deeply, and somehow a small spark of light split the darkness. Because this was Namjoon. This was the same Namjoon as a decade ago. The first boy you had ever loved – could he still really just be that today?
Finally, you walked over to the door, unlocked it and opened it for him. His dragon eyes were unreadable, but they were questioning. You felt as if they were asking questions to your soul directly and, ever bared in front of him, you were pretty sure your soul was answering.
“Hey baby,” he greeted you as he walked in, and you quickly shut the door and locked it behind him.
“Hi,” you said, voice vulnerable in the midst of your anxiety.
“You’ve been busy?” he asked, the soothing tone of his voice dragging a gentle hand on your back, telling you that maybe, maybe if you could let go of the anxiety, everything would be okay.
But could you, when its talons had sunk so deep into your heart you couldn’t quite tell if it was still beating?
“Yeah,” you answered. “I’ve been working on a piece and… didn’t see the time fly.”
He nodded understandingly. “Of course. That’s why I brought food.”
And that was how you found yourself sitting next to him on the couch in your studio, eyes trailing to your piece of art. You wondered if he could see your anxiety in the swirls of darker colours on the canvas. Could he tell you were haunted?
Could he be the solution?
“I think my album is going to be good,” he said as he swallowed the fried chicken he was eating. “You’re going to love it.”
You pursed your lips, not willing to tell him that you’d always loved whatever he made, even back then. “Of course.”
He flashed you a smile, but you could see that it wasn’t quite reaching his eyes. He didn’t say anything though, and you both finished eating in silence. When you were done, Namjoon sat back in the couch, letting out a long sigh as one of his hands gently landed on your thigh. You immediately tensed, and his hand slid away, fingers flexing as if they wished they could hold onto you, but knew it was best not to.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked, his deep voice surrounding you, echoes reverberating through the fabric of your soul.
Could you tell him? Could you be honest with Kim Namjoon, or would it make him run away?
A scary thought formed in your mind, coming from the dirtiest part of your soul. Would it be better if he ran away?
“A lot,” you admitted, unable to hide the truth from him. “Quite a lot.”
You met his gaze for a few seconds before finding solace in your painting again.
“You know you can talk to me,” he gently said.
“I know.”
But you couldn’t. You didn’t want to have to tell him that this was all too much for you. That it was too quick, that you felt like you were stuck in a train aiming for a wall at top speed.
“I’m sorry,” he said after the silence had stretched so much, you thought it was about to rip the fabric of reality itself.
“What for?” you asked, genuinely wondering.
He leaned his elbows on his knees, pulling at some calluses on his palm that he got from working out without gloves on. “We haven’t really talked about the rumours.”
You hadn’t. Hadn’t even mentioned anything once, preferring to act as if it had never happened. Foolishly, you’d hoped that it would preserve your anonymity, even after it was gone. Even after the first fans stepped foot in your gallery, even after you’d seen articles about you in the press.
“Yeah.”
“Is that what’s on your mind?” he asked, and he turned his head towards you.
From this angle, it was entirely too hard to avoid his gaze. Instead, you latched onto it, hoping it would make everything better.
“It might be,” you said. You sighed, wetting your lips before you added, “It is.”
“How have you been feeling?”
You weren’t sure there was a way to answer the question. Because you didn’t want him to know just how bad the anxiety had gotten, didn’t want him to know that your life changing so much in such a short amount of time was the scariest thing that had ever happened to you.
“Stressed,” you answered, deciding to use a lesser word in the hope that it wouldn’t hurt him too much. “Especially now that the anonymity is gone.”
He nodded. “I was expecting that to happen.”
You cocked an eyebrow, but found yourself unable to say anything else.
“I’m sorry I took that away from you,” he murmured, and a flash of pain in his eyes told you that he really was.
That Kim Namjoon felt guilty when it came to you, more than he had probably ever felt guilty about anything in life.
“You didn’t mean to,” you reassured him. Because it was the truth – you couldn’t be angry at him for what had happened. You had been part of it just as much as him.
“But it’s still my fault,” he added. “It’s because of me if the media has been after you.”
“It’s not because of you.” You paused, searching for the right words to convey the meaning you wanted. “It’s not you as a person, but rather what you mean to the world.”
You slightly winced, convinced that you had somehow landed on the wrong words after all.
“Possibly,” he said. He sighed, before once again sitting back on the couch. His fingers twitched before he clenched them on his thighs, visibly resisting the urge to do something.
To touch you, you assumed.
“Possibly,” he repeated. “But it’s hard to separate the person that I am from the person that I mean to others. To me, it’s just me, both of these.”
You nodded, because you already knew that. Namjoon was authentic through and through, with everything that he did and was. With every single one of his words – he was a cool-minded reflective person, and it was one of the things you liked the most about him. Maybe because it was such a stark contrast from when he was young, blood boiling at any minor inconvenience.
Maybe because it was an anchor in an otherwise stormy life.
“I know,” you said. “And that’s why I don’t believe it’s your fault. You didn’t mean for any of that to happen. And neither did I.”
“Still sucks that it did.”
You’d never heard a truer sentence before. And it was rhetorical, didn’t mean for a reply. All that you could do was nod, gaze escaping from his to find your wriggling fingers in your lap. A new silence stretched between you, still as heavy. Heavier than gravity – was it going to form a black hole between you and him?
“What’s that painting you’ve been working on?” he asked.
You glanced towards the art. Observed the paler backdrop, the painting that you had started in Ilsan. Your anxiety had splashed swirls of darker blue over it, adding melancholy to it that you’d never really visited in your art before.
“Something to get my mind off the edge,” you admitted. “I’ve been trying to pour my thoughts into it. To escape reality for a time.”
Maybe it had been the wrong thing to say. Weeks later, you’d look back on this moment and realize that it was the catalyst to the destruction. But right this instant, you couldn’t even think past the words.
“To escape?” he prodded.
You nodded. “Don’t you use music as an escape?”
“Yeah,” he said, but somehow his voice was flat.
It brought your attention back to him, and you noticed his eyes on you. Noticed the grief that your words had instilled behind his pupils, hiding somewhere in the deep brown of his gaze.
“So I assume you must understand.”
He didn’t answer right away. Held your gaze as if time had stopped, and maybe it should have. Maybe time should have been kind to you and him, in its chronology.
“If you need an escape from this,” he said, motioning vaguely between you and him, “maybe we shouldn’t be doing it at all.”  
Your heart stopped in your chest, turning cold. Anxiety flooded in, washing away everything that you once were. You felt naked, young, as if you’d gone back in time and were watching him walk away again.
“I never said I needed an escape from us,” you said, and the venom in your voice surprised both you and him.
“Are you happy right now?” he enquired. In a whisper, as if it was the scariest thing. And scary words could never be uttered too loud – wouldn’t they just break everything in their wake?
“I’m not sure.” You saw the flash of hurt on his face, and you quickly rushed to add, “I’m just so anxious.”
“I’ve been making you feel anxious?”
You shook your head. “No. Not you. The situation. The sudden fame. The spotlight and my art being sold at crazy prices. The fact that I have to worry about paparazzi, about what I do or say. It’s so sudden.”
Namjoon didn’t reply right away. Instead, he looked at you, gaze heavy with feelings you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Maybe it was understanding – because of course he’d understand what you were going through. He was going through it too, though he’d known this life for years now.
“I’m sorry I brought this to you,” he eventually chose to say, carefully. As if he was aware you were fragile glass right now, one wrong move and you’d explode into a million tiny little shards. “I can take it away easily,” he claimed.
You cocked an eyebrow, because was he offering you salvation? You highly doubted he could.
“How?”
He pursed his lips, features turning apologetic for a time. “We break up. We go our separate ways, I get the rumours off your back. No one’s going to be after you anymore if they think I’m with someone else.”
The loudest sound in the universe was your heartbeat, in that instant. It was so loud even your thoughts became distant little specks, unable to break the wall of sound.
“What?”
He sighed, shrugging. As if he was giving up, as if he’d given up even before he’d gotten here. “If being with me makes you so anxious,” he started. “And by that, I mean not me as a person. What I mean to the world, or whatever it is that you said earlier. If it makes you too anxious, I’m just going to remove myself from the situation.”
Were you stupid, for being unable to reply anything other than ‘what?’ again? Perhaps you were. Especially as he scoffed this time around, and something started aching in your chest, differently than it was before.
“I think it’s better for you if we break up,” Namjoon explained. When you remained silent this time around, he slowly shut his eyes, head hanging low. “I don’t think I could reassure you enough when it comes to your anxiety for us to be able to be together.”
Your heart felt as if it had slowed down in your chest, so much so that the world surrounding you turned silent, soundless. You heard the breath of air that you took in, cringing as it did nothing to ease the slowly rising panic in you.
“I don’t want us to break up,” you said, murmured, though the moment the words crossed the threshold of your lips you realized that perhaps this had been what you were aiming for all along.
“I can’t date someone that gets so anxious just because they’re with me,” he answered, and he looked truly apologetic. Guilty too, as if he had committed the worst crime humanity could witness.
And perhaps breaking a heart truly was the worst crime out there.
It felt unlike Namjoon. You’d gotten the impression that he was someone reliable, someone cool-headed who’d be able to support you, to help you go through your anxiety. But as you stared at him, sitting there on the couch in your studio, you realized that he, too, struggled with his own anxiety. Had probably struggled with a lot of it in the past, so much so that he couldn’t afford to put himself in a situation where he’d only get bad again.
The only solution appeared like a dark cloud looming over the horizon of your conscience. You wished wind could blow it away, wished you were strong enough to manage your anxiety without losing him, but you knew it’d be easier once he was gone. Knew your sleep wouldn’t be as troubled, knew you’d be able to dwindle away into anonymity once more.
You had to let him go. For your sake, mostly, but for his too. Because he deserved someone who could shine with him in his spotlight, someone who’d be able to accept all of him, including his fame. And that just wasn’t you.
“Namjoon…”
“It’s hard for me too, you know?” he added. “To watch the person that I love getting worse every day, knowing that I’m the cause of it. Y/n…” he paused, and this time he was the one to look away. “I haven’t even seen you smile in weeks. Ever since the rumours.” He shook his head. “Even before that. I’m not sure you’ve been happy since we started dating.”
“That’s not true,” you declared, trying to put as much conviction in your words as you possibly could. “I was happy in Ilsan. I was happy when we came back, too. It really is just the sudden fame that’s been throwing me off.”
You were relieved you’d finally found words to explain your anxiety. And somehow, them slowly falling out of your mouth eased the anxiety, eased the fear.
But you knew you were going to let him go.
“Then we take a break,” he continued. “I don’t want to be the source of something negative in someone’s life. We take a break, let the rumours dwindle away, and when it’s safe, we can try again.”
Your eyes blurred with tears. If he saw them, he ignored it, instead focusing on the calluses in his hands again.
“If that is what you want, I’m not going to force you to stay with me,” you said, voice small in the enormity of what was happening.
He scoffed. “What I want is just impossible. This is just second best.”
“Breaking up with me is second best?” you asked, anger and bitterness swirling under the surface of your ache. “It’s that easy for you?”
He frowned, meeting your gaze again. “Who said it was easy?”
“You’re the one that claims it’s a good thing. Second best.”
At that, he rolled his eyes, slowly shaking his head again. “This is not what I meant.”
Maybe your anxiety was winning against you, maybe the knowledge that you had to let him go was stronger than anything else. Because you couldn’t watch him anymore. Couldn’t gaze at his deep brown eyes anymore, knowing that they’d become ghosts in your memory in just a few moments.
A few moments of breaking, of a glass heart dropped to a stone-cold floor.
“Then leave, Joon,” you said, voice unwavering even though you felt like ice was clutching your entire being. “Let’s take this break, let’s see if it’s better for both of us.”
The dark cloud rolled closer, engulfing you. Especially as he didn’t fight more. As he nodded his head, got up and motioned towards the stairs. As if that was enough when he was dropping you, giving up on you.
But weren’t you giving up on him just as much?
That night, you sat cross-legged in front of your canvas, watching the opened paint pots littering the floor around you. When your eyes slid back towards the canvas, a single tear escaped the confines of your eyelids, rolling along your cheek.
Deep brown eyes looked back at you, shining with their own unshed tears, reminders of where you failed in the timeline of your life.
*****
Thirteen years ago
                You were going to kill Kim Namjoon. You would kill him, and be happy about it.
You’d heard from a friend of a friend that he had been hanging out with a certain Jeon Yuri, a beautiful, popular girl that had every reason to be liked by a guy like Namjoon. It was understandable – everyone loved Yuri.
Only, Yuri hated you. Always did, and took to insulting you in that covert way of hers that made people think she was complimenting them. But you saw right through her – you knew she was just a conniving rich girl. So you hated her back, with all the hate your little heart could summon.
To think Namjoon was hanging out with her? You’d kill him for it.
So you waited outside the gates of your childhood home for him to show up. You had been waiting there for a while already – partly because you needed to cool off, but also because you wanted to avoid your parents’ questions. Because obviously they loved Namjoon.
Everyone loved Namjoon, and everyone loved Yuri. You knew you were going to hate the both of them.
Namjoon arrived with a smile on his face, dimples flashing as if they’d get you to fold, to forgive him. To be fair, he did not know about your history with Yuri, as you never spoke about it to anyone. But when he saw your features, his smile immediately crumbled, replaced by worry.
“What’s wrong?” he instantly asked as he stopped in front of you.
“What’s wrong?” you repeated, before scoffing. “Why did I have to hear from Kim Haru that you’re hanging out with Jeon Yuri?”
His brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with hanging out with her?”
Your eyes widened and your fists landed on your hips. “Everything? She’s just a bitch.”
“Excuse me, what?” Namjoon let out, and you could tell by the reddening of his cheeks that he was already getting worked up too. “You told me to never call a girl a bitch and now you’re doing it?”
You rolled your eyes so far back you thought you could see your brain. “It’s not the same thing.”
He scoffed, in that condescending way of his that he always used when he wanted to win an argument. And you saw red. You saw blood red, scarlet like you were but a bull attracted to a flag.
“Don’t you fucking condescend me right now.”
“Don’t you fucking curse at me.”
“No seriously,” you continued. “I don’t want a guy who’s only after popular girls.”
“I am not,” Namjoon drawled. “I’m tutoring her and Park Seojin in maths. You already knew this.”
As a matter of fact, you did not. “You never told me.”
“Because you never listen to me,” he spat. “You’re always just drawing your fucking drawings as if that’ll lead you anywhere in life.”
“Kim Namjoon!” you burst. “And you’re always just going on about how you want to be a rapper. You’re a kid, dude, stop chasing after pointless dreams.”
He stepped closer to you, towering over you. You stood your ground, crossing your arms on your chest. “You’ll be sorry you ever said that. Oh, you’ll be so fucking sorry.”
“I don’t think I will. I don’t even think I’ll remember you.”
It was a low blow, and you could tell it hit him right in the gut. “You’re breaking up with me over such a stupid thing?”
“I’m breaking up with you because you’re a liar. You said you were with your friends, and then I learn that you were with Jeon Yuri?”
He sighed for a long time, shaking his head in frustration. “Oh, so this is really what it is about? Maybe there’s a reason why I didn’t want to tell you I was tutoring her.”
You scowled. “Why?”
“Because I knew you’d throw a jealousy fit. You think you’re entitled all of my time.”
“Fuck you,” you growled. “Fuck you. I have all the rights to be jealous when my boyfriend hides stuff like that from me.”
“Boyfriend? I thought you broke up with me.”
Your gaze slightly widened. “What?”
“I’m not your boyfriend anymore,” he said, adding your name like it was an insult. “Get over me already.”
“Do you even love me?” you replied, your anger suddenly dying down to be replaced with gut-wrenching pain.
But you knew better than to expect his anger to ever die down. It took forever for Namjoon to calm down, and you feared you had crossed a line tonight.
“Not when you get mad at me for no valid reason.”
His words hit like a slap to the face. “I just don’t like her. Can’t you tutor someone else?”
“No.”
The simple negation brought back a shade of anger to you, and you said, “Then perhaps we really should break up. Maybe I can find someone that actually respects me.”
“Because I don’t respect you?” he said, hands moving around his frame in anger.
“Clearly not.”
“You’re right then,” he continued. “I don’t respect you. I don’t love you either, apparently, so I’m done.”
“Joon…”
“No, Maehwa,” he said, and this time the nickname broke your heart in two, splitting it right in the middle. “You don’t say my name like that.” He slowly shook his head, seething. “As a matter of fact, I don’t want you to ever speak to me again. To ever look at me. I don’t want someone that acts like a fucking child.”
“You act like a child all the time,” you interrupted, but he ignored you.
He ignored you, in favor of turning around to walk away. You watched his back, before taking a step towards him, yelling his name again. He stopped, but didn’t turn to look at you. Instead, he said, “I’ll kill you if you follow me.”
You scoffed. “Oh please, as if you’d ever hurt me.”
“I’m serious, I’ll fucking kill you if I ever see you again.”
It felt enormous, to say such a thing. And perhaps youth was that – enormous in its drama. So you replied, “I hate you more than I hate anything in this world.”
He shrugged his shoulders, and then he walked away.
He walked away into the October night, and your cleaved heart shattered in a million tiny pieces.
☆☆☆☆☆
Read the rest of the fic here bc tumblr sucks and now we can't write posts longer than 1,000 blocks
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kth1 · 7 months
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⁂ 2/100 days of kim namjoon | bts ly japan behind the scenes
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margotw10bis · 1 month
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Pretty Baby.KNJ [m]
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sugardaddy!namjoon x sugarbaby!reader
Genre: smut; short-story
Words: 6.4k
Synopsis: Namjoon is your sugar daddy. However, you can't deny how your heart is jumping in your chest when he calls you his "pretty baby"…
Warnings: rough sex; unprotected sex; spanking; squirting; oral sex (m. receiving); gagging; Namjoon is huge 😳; he loves ass; use of "daddy"
1 → 2 → 3 (Bonus : Memories ; Doubts & Possibilities)
Namjoon immediately freezes when he hears your and a man's voices coming from your bedroom. What the fuck is going on? Why are you with a man in your room this late? Anger boiling in his veins, Namjoon runs to your bedroom door and pushes it open. You, Jimin and Namjoon all stop breathing. You are indeed very surprised to see him right now. You hate that your heart beats faster for him, you would like to hate him, just a little bit, for not contacting you like he said he would.
Namjoon, on the other hand, is seeing red. Your 'friend' is on top of you, hugging you, on your fucking bed. Is he interrupting the begging of a roll in the hay? Fuck, he wants to kill Jimin for touching you.
Completely unaware of Namjoon's anger, you smile brightly.
"Joonie!" You exclaim cheerfully
Jimin is pretty aware of what's going on and tries to stand up quickly. The wrath in Namjoon's eyes scares him to death. He gulps loudly while you clumsily walk to Namjoon. You almost strip and Namjoon has to catch you before you hit the floor, causing his heart to stop out of fear. You look like you are not even aware of you almost falling and you hug his big frame with your tiny arms.
"I missed you so much"
Namjoon can feel the alcohol in your breathe and with the way you are talking, the words coming from your lips with slothfulness. Did Jimin make you drink to fuck you? His eyes narrow on your friend.
"What's going on?" He asks, coldly
"We went to party" You answer with a lazy smile
Namjoon's jaws clench, looking straight at Jimin. Namjoon holds you tighter and you snuggle your face further in his buff chest. You missed his scent. You close your eyes to appreciate it more.
"And what were you doing exactly?" The question is addressed to Jimin but before he can even open his mouth, you reply
"Hugging"
Okay, Jimin is officially a dead man walking.
"Is that so?" Namjoon's question doesn't really need answer this time
He wants to kill Jimin and then fuck you hard to punish you for letting another man touch you. He grabs your chin to make you look up at his face. Your pretty eyes are red because of the alcohol and your cheeks are blushed. He is angry. Very angry. He growls before reaching down to harshly capture your lips with his mouth. He tastes the liquor on your tongue and he squeezes your ass. Your brain is doing spins, both because of alcohol and the perfect kiss. Namjoon bites your lower lip so hard that you whine. Yeah, he will definitely punish you but not tonight when you're drunk as fuck.
He pulls away and looks back at Jimin.
"Get the fuck out of here" He orders him with the harshest tone possible
Your best friend doesn't waste any time and basically runs away. Once Namjoon hears the main door closing, he lifts you up in his arms and drags you in your bathroom. He doesn't talk, too angry not to snap at you if he opens his mouth. He undresses you and makes you sit down in the large bathtub that could easily fit you both, even with Namjoon's big body. He makes sure the water is at the right temperature, rolls up his sleeves to his elbows and starts washing your face to take off your makeup. You sigh in delight of his hands on you. You close your eyes, almost falling asleep surrounded by warm water and warm palms.
"You did drink a lot" Namjoon notices
You nod, slowly opening your eyes.
"I thought you got sick of me" You confess
Namjoon's hands stop. He looks at your face. He doesn't see any reproach but pain. He doesn't like it. He didn't have time to call you. Directly at the airport when he stepped out of the plane, Taehyung informed him that some business partner wanted to cancel a contract. He has spent the next couple of days at the office with his legal team to prevent that from happening. Even if he was busy, he now regrets not sending you a text to notify you.
"Never, baby" He comforts you with a kiss on your forehead
It's enough for you to believe him. Namjoon has always been honest with you, since the very first day. He told you he didn't want a girlfriend/boyfriend relationship but a sugar baby/daddy one. He even told you there were other girls. And you accepted it if that meant you could have even a little bit of him.
Namjoon finishes washing you, soapy hands creating bubbles all over your body. You moan lightly when he runs through your boobs, your pussy and your ass. You wish you could enjoy it more but you are now way too tired and drunk for that.
"Come on, let's get you to bed" He says while he's wrapping you in a soft towel
He makes sure you're dry and pulls you in bed, naked. He brushes off some hair that landed on your face. Before he can walk away, you grab his big hand in your delicate one.
"Stay, please"
Your voice almost begs. You just got him back, you're afraid he will disappear again. He nods before taking off his cloths to be as naked as you. He slides between the sheets and you glue yourself to his side. He lazily puts his arm around your shoulders. You kiss his firm chest a last time before falling asleep.
————
Your head hurts like hell. You make a promise to yourself— the same one you make every time you wake up hangover: you won't drink ever again. You growl and press your hands on your eyes to protect them from the sun coming through the window.
"Wake up" Namjoon orders you with a cold voice
Your eyes snap open and land on his naked body. Fuck, you messed up big time last night. Flash memories come to your mind and you know that Namjoon won't let it go. You gulp.
"On all fours. Now"
You do it quickly. You apprehend what will follow but you can't deny your exposed pussy is getting wet.
"You were a very bad girl yesterday. Do you know what happens to bad girls?"
You can't see his face but you can clearly hear how angry he is.
"They get punished" You answer with a dry throat
"Exactly"
Namjoon slaps your ass so hard that you jolt. A loud moan escapes your lips. Fuck, it was harsh. But Namjoon doesn't stop and spanks your other asscheek, harder. It's bringing tears to your eyes and a red mark to your skin. Your fists tighten on the sheets.
"I'm sorry" You whisper with closed eyes, waiting for the next slap
And it comes, hard on your first asscheek.
"Louder" Namjoon orders
"I'm sorry, daddy!" You scream, unable to withhold a sob
"I'm not done with you"
Namjoon pushes your face into your pillow without any softness. Your pussy is now clearly exposed to his sight and he notices some arousal escaping from it. He slaps your pussy, making you scream into the fabric of the pillow. He starts sliding up and down your folds with his middle finger to paint your pussy with your own juices, making it gorgeously glistening. He doesn't prep you and enters you with all of his hard cock with a harsh move. The sudden stretch cuts your breathe. Tears fill your eyes.
"Promise you won't let any man touch you like Jimin has done yesterday" Namjoon commands as he starts pounding you
He is fucking you so hard and deep that you can't stay on your knees. Each pumping drags you further to the mattress. Muttered moans leave your mouth as you can't think straight. Namjoon has never fucked you this rough.
"I promise" You manage to say in the pillow
"I can't hear you" He teases you as he slaps your already red and abused ass
You whine at the spanking, grabbing the sheets tightly. You are now lying flat on your stomach on the bed, making your pussy even tighter. Namjoon growls as he is fucking you deep, tugging on your hair to lift your head up.
"I promise, daddy!"
He gives another slap on your asscheek, less harsh, as a reward. Your pussy clenches at it. The room is filled with the sinful sound of your skins clapping. Your ass gets smacked by Namjoon's pelvis every single time. He loves the way your cheeks wiggle under his rough moves.
"Who do you belong to?" He asks between hard poundings
"You, daddy!"
"That's my girl" He praises, giving you a last dick stroke before pulling out
The sudden emptiness is a torture for your dripping cunt. But it doesn't last long as Namjoon throws you into your back. He spreads your legs to see how wet your pretty pussy is. He is satisfied to witness the fledging mess. He shoves his huge cock back into your pussy, making your boobs bounce in rhythm. He harshly grabs one of your nipples and pinches it.
"Fuck" You moan
Namjoon leaves your nipples to wrap his big palm around your neck, squeezing slightly. Your clenching pussy makes him know you love it. He smirks at you being so fucked up underneath his body. He looks at his big cock disappearing into your tight, dripping cunt.
"My pretty pussy" He growls before laying down on you
You can feel his heavy breathe in your ear and you're close. So fucking close. Your walls tighten around his cock. Namjoon fucks you so good, tearing you in half. Your hands settle in his now sticky hair.
"Cum" He orders you with his deep and raspy voice
Fuck.
You're so done. His rough poundings, his hand on your throat and his dominance drive you crazy. Your orgasm washes over your whole body and you scream his name. Your toes curl and your legs shake by the wave of pleasure. Namjoon doesn't slow his pace, even if your pussy becomes impossibly tight and you whine at the overstimulation.
"Good girl" Namjoon praises in your ear
He lifts up his torso and leaves your throat too in order to bring his fingers to your mouth. You immediately open it and he slides his digits between your lips. You suck on his fingers and even bites them when Namjoon delivers you a too harsh pounding. Once he is satisfied, he brings his hand down and starts rubbing your clit.
"Fuck!" You choke
You're a complete mess. Your juices are rolling down to your ass and sheets. Your breasts are bouncing so much for Namjoon's sweet delight and your pussy is shaking. You can feel another orgasm, way bigger than the first one.
"I gonna make you cum so good that you won't ever want another cock"
That's a promise you can easily trust. No one has ever fucked you so hard, so rough and so good. Namjoon is, in fact, the only man you want. You wish the three little words you want to say could ease him but you know damn well they will do the opposite.
Namjoon presses on your clit deeper, pushing it like a cum button. Your cunt clenches once again and your eyes shut down. You feel his cock deep inside you, fucking hitting on your g-spot over and over again.
"Oh my god, Namjoon!" You scream as you are cumming again, the biggest orgasm you have ever had
It's like you're not even on Earth anymore and white dots paint your vision.
"Fuckkk"
Your tight pussy is driving him to his own edge and Namjoon releases himself inside you. He is panting but admires the mess between your legs.
"You squirted, baby"
"What?"
Your eyes open and look at a very proud Namjoon. You grow embarrassed as you notice the way Namjoon's abs are covered by your arousal. You've never squirted before. You are blushing hard but Namjoon loves it. He leans down and kisses you while his thumbs are caressing your burning cheeks.
"My pretty baby" He whispers against your lips and you feel your heart melt
Fuck, you love him so much. You grab his hair to pull him closer. His softening cock is still inside you and you wrap your legs around his waist. You smile when you feel Namjoon's arms around your small body. He hugs you tight, just like your were the most precious thing in his life.
————
"What?" Lisa asks, dumbfounded
"Let's end the contract" Namjoon repeats with a neutral voice
He has found himself putting an end to most of his contracts with his sugar babies lately. That can be explained by several reasons. The first one is that he has less time with his company expending. Secondly, Namjoon will be turning 36 next week and he is getting tired of his fuckboy life. He is thinking about settle down for good. His parents keep showing their worry about him not being married at his age and, even though he is not ready to get married, maybe he should try to build a real strong relationship with someone. And the main reason is you. Honestly, he is quite surprised himself to think this much about you when you're not around. If he has to keep one sugar baby, it would be you.
However, it's not that simple because Lisa is kind of a stubborn woman. She has a big ego and being shut down is not something she is ready to let happen.
"Why?" She questions with a hateful glance
"Because I don't have time anymore" Namjoon gives her a part of the truth
At that, Lisa can't say she is surprised. She did notice that Namjoon was spending way less time with her. She didn't really care since she still had the money. However, she is suspicious. She knows Namjoon goddamn well — she has been his sugar baby for a year now — and he can't live without sex. That means he is keeping at least one girl. Knowing she isn't the one hurts her pride.
"So? What will happen? You're turning into a monk?" She mocks
Namjoon ignores it and promises she will receive a good amount of money for the termination of the contract. He leaves her place — the place he bought but decided to give to her. He sighs in his car and his phone rings. It's a message from you. Namjoon clicks on the notification and he bites his lip when he witnesses a picture. A very naughty one. You're wearing lingerie, a beautiful set of hot pink lacy bra and panties. It fits your perfect body so well. He can't wait to see your ass with it, especially with the caption you have chosen: 'waiting for daddy'. He drives straight to your place. How can he make his pretty baby wait?
You are humming a random song while cooking your diner. Namjoon hasn't answer your text yet but you're not surprised: he rarely shows off before eleven pm. You still has your lingerie on but you have put a fluffy set of lounge clothes upon it. You can smell your lasagna developing all its savours and your mouth waters while anticipating the moment you'll finally be able to eat it.
You hear your door opens and you startle a little. You freeze, waiting for another noise.
"Baby?"
You sigh in relief as you recognize Namjoon's voice. You are also so happy of his surprise, you didn't expect him to come this quick. You run to meet him and hug him tight. Namjoon wraps his arms around your waist, digging his nose in the crook of your neck. You feel his lips softly brushing against your skin.
"That smells so good, did you cook?" He asks you with his cute dimple smile that illuminates his whole handsome face
"Yep, lasagna. It'll be ready soon, do you want some?"
He nods and grabs your hand to lead you to your open and huge kitchen. Namjoon gets closer to the oven to watch the pasta getting grilled. He didn't know you were such a cooker. Actually, he doesn't know much about you except what is going on in the bedroom. However, he gets excited at the idea of discovering more about your personality — he already knows your whole body like the back of his hand.
You turn off the oven and display the dish on the dinner table while Namjoon grabs a fancy bottle of wine he has brought a few weeks ago. You are so happy, but also surprised, about how curious he is tonight. He asks questions about your day but also about random things such as your hobbies, your childhood memories or your plans for this weekend. He never talks much, mostly because he is usually too busy fucking you. But you like it.
"Go get a shower, I'll do the dishes" You say when your stomachs are full
"I can help" Namjoon frowns
"It's okay" You reassure him, already taking the plates "I know you had a long day" You peck his lips "And I want you fully operative for later" You add with a wink
He chuckles and heads to your bathroom while you do as you said.
Namjoon is still in the shower when you enter your bedroom. You are thinking about joining him but before you can actually do it, the water turns off and a hot Namjoon appears. His naked body, only covered by a towel tied low on his hips, makes your pussy clench. You love how brawny he is — a real pleasure for the eyes. His biceps, his chest, his fucking abs. Everything is tempting. Honestly, he looks like a Greek God.
You can't hold yourself longer and push him onto your bed. You open the towel to face his cock. Even when it's soft, it still big. You start caressing it and it immediately gets harder. And you get wetter at the same time.
"You're needy tonight, baby" He smirks
Deep down, it fills his pride that you want him like that. It's rare when you initiate things in bed. Namjoon loves to be in control, however, he will let you take the lead for now — not for too long though.
"I've been thinking about you all day, I can't wait anymore" You explain, sincerely
You fully grab his dick in your hand and slide up and down. You feel his length getting thicker and heavier on your palm and fuck, your pussy is starting to soak your new panties. Once Namjoon is almost completely hard, you kiss his tip gently. Some pre cum lands on your lips. The salty liquid urges you to put him in you mouth already. And you do.
Namjoon moans when his cock is surrounded by the wetness, warmth and softness of your mouth. You suck on his length at a pretty fast pace, your tongue rolling around it. You can feel him growing bigger between your lips and you moan at it. He is fulling your mouth and you love the feeling of it.
However, it's not enough for Namjoon so he grabs your hair and pushes his dick deeper in your mouth, making you gag. The sinfulness of the gesture creates a wave of horniness inside your cunt.
Namjoon starts fucking your mouth and sloppy sounds from your mouth full of saliva and cock fill your room. He tastes so good on your tongue, you are literally drooling. Some oral fluid runs down his balls and your chin, creating a fucking mess. You love how Namjoon uses you to please him.
"I love your pretty mouth, baby" He growls as he enters you deeply and rests a little, preventing oxygen from filling your lungs
You tap his tights when you need to breathe again and you take a big cup of air when you are finally free. Your eyes are watery and your lips are swollen, that means it's perfect in Namjoon's point of view.
You go down again to bring his cock back inside your mouth . Some saliva covers Namjoon's fat dick and it gets so easy for him to fuck your throat. Once again, he pushes your gag reflex but it's fucking hot.
"Fuck" He moans when your hand starts caressing his balls
He has to pull out of your sweet mouth not to cum.
He uses your hair to bring your face close to his so he can kiss you harshly. His other hand finds your ass.
"Let me see what's underneath" He says as he tugs on your fluffy pants
You get rid off your lounge clothes to allow Namjoon to finally see your new set of lingerie. The hot pink bra and panties compliment you. It's both so fucking cute and hot. Like a sweet candy he can't wait to taste. Namjoon bites his lip and his intense dragon eyes make you blush.
"You like it?" You shyly ask
"I love it. You are so fucking pretty"
Your heart warms and you bend over to kiss him. It's true that Namjoon makes you feel sexy and confident. When he looks at you, you feel like the most beautiful woman on Earth.
Namjoon slides a hand underneath your small panties and rubs your clit. You moan against his lips and he takes it as the chance to push his tongue into your mouth. His digits don't hold back and are rolling on your clit both quickly and roughly.
"Stop, I gonna cum" You wince
"I don't see what's bad"
"I want to cum on your cock"
Namjoon looks straight into your eyes and, just for a second, an emotion you can't quite describe run through them. It shakes your whole inside.
Namjoon nods and gives some rest to your sensitive bud. However, he pushes your lacy panties aside to make your entrance accessible.
"Sit on daddy's cock" He orders but you notice that his voice is softer than usual
Anyway, you place your knees on both Namjoon's sides and grab his dick at its base to sit on it. You groan when you're full of him. His length is deep inside your pussy and your walls are stretched at their maximum. You don't move for a few seconds to get used to him but you soon need more.
Your hands land on Namjoon's firm chest to support you while you're riding him. Each bouncing creates a moan escaping from your lips and Namjoon gets a perfect view on your moving tits delicately enveloped by your bra. Even though the hot pink looks great on you, he prefers you with nothing on and undoes the lacy fabric to free your boobs. When he roughly grabs one of them, your head rolls back, making your moans raspier. You enhance your pace and fuck, you're going crazy. His cock is too big not to hurt when he is deep inside your cunt but it's the most delightful pain of all time. You love how it feels.
Your moves get unsteady as you're feeling your orgasm coming closer and closer. You collapse on Namjoon and he takes the lead. His hands firmly grab your ass and spread your cheeks to give him a better access to your cunt. His fingers are so deep into the soft flesh of your ass that you are sure you'll have bruises tomorrow. He starts pumping you fast and deep like a beast. You mutter your screams in the crook of his neck.
"Fuck, I'm close" You notify him like he doesn't feel your walls tightening at each pounding
Namjoon growls, the vibrations of it going straight inside your breasts pressed against him. Your body jolts with the strength of his poundings. It feels so fucking good, skins clapping loud in rhythm.
"I love it, I love your cock so much" You confess when a wave of euphoria wraps around you
You are so close to say you love him but fortunately for you, you cum before being able to say it out loud. Your whole body shakes while Namjoon's dick keeps entering your swollen pussy full of juices. Your orgasm is so strong that it makes your cunt way too tight for Namjoon to penetrate you like he would like to. He stops his moves but holds you close and kisses you. Your hand caresses his cheek and you rest your forehead against his to catch your breathe. Both of you are sweaty and literally smelling sex.
You lift up your torso to ride his big cock again. Whimpers leave your lips because of the overstimulation but it doesn't make you stop. Quite the opposite. You want Namjoon to fuck you as much as he wants to. If you can't have his love, at least you can have his body.
Namjoon rests on his left arm to be in a more sit position. You wrap your arms around his neck to help you jump up and down on his length, running your fingers in his blond hair at the same time. The change of position makes his cock slightly change the angle, hitting your g-spot.
"Oh my god, right here!" You exclaim with a gasp
He growls when he feels your pussy clenching. His right arm brings you closer to his chest, basically hugging you while you keep bouncing on his dick.
"You're so perfect" Namjoon whispers against your shoulder "My pretty baby"
You have always loved when he calls you like that. Someway, it makes you feel special — ridiculous when he probably gives the same pet name to his other sugar babies.
Namjoon's hand goes up your back to caress the back of your neck. The sweet gesture surprises you but makes you melt instantly. You press your lips against his and he moans at your cunt clenching. He knows you are close again.
"Cum for me, Y/N" He says is a deep voice
"I want to cum with you" You manage to say, your pitch a little higher than usual as you try not to cum
Namjoon nods and sits a little straighter so he can wrap his other arm around your waist. He holds you so tight that it gets hard for you to ride him. You have no other choice than to slow your pace and deepen your moves. You take him deeper every time, making you shiver at the pleasure and rolling your hips to increase the friction.
Namjoon pats your back, your neck and your ass. Fuck, he is so soft that your heart warms up and melts at the same time. It's so hard not to confess your feelings right now as you are feeling loved by him.
"Look at me" He whispers
Your eyes anchor his brown ones. The way he is looking at you is beyond words and you can't hold back any longer. Your orgasm washes over you like a huge wave of pleasure. Your toes curl and your body shakes in Namjoon's strong arms. He immediately joins you and paints your clenching walls with his thick and white shots of cum.
You are both out of breathe and Namjoon kisses you deeply. You rest your head a few minutes on his shoulder as sleep is slowly taking control of your body.
However, the moment is irrupted by the sound of your phone. You leave Namjoon's embrace with regret and look at the screen. You growl in annoyance when you witness the unregistered number you know way too well. Your ex, Soobin, contacts you from time to time when he is drunk. Honestly, you've told him several times to stop that. You didn't want to go as far as blocking his number but now it looks like you don't have other choices.
"Who's that?" Namjoon asks when he sees the wince on your face
"My ex, just ign—"
Namjoon cuts you off as he snatches your device from your hands.
"Hello? Y/N? I miss you so much" Soobin mumbles drunkly on the phone
Jealousy pinches Namjoon's heart. He has just fucked you and another man is trying to take you back. He won't let that happen, he will make clear to your ex that you're not available.
"Stop calling her or I'll make sure you won't" Namjoon barks aggressively
"Who are you?" Soobin asks, completely taken aback
"Her man. Now, if I hear you've contacted her again, you will regret it. Delete her number"
With that, Namjoon hangs up. He is tensed by anger and jealousy. He really doesn't like when men try to steal you away from him. He grabs your chin to capture your lips, not so gently.
"I think he won't call again" You say, shyly
"I hope so"
"Are you jealous?" You tease him
"Of course I am, look at you"
Namjoon is dead serious and it makes you blush. He smiles tenderly at your reaction and drags you down with him onto the mattress. His arms around your frame secure you against him.
"Let's go out tomorrow" He proposes
"Really?" Your voice is the definition of happiness
Namjoon hums in your hair.
"I want to go to the mall so I can spoil my pretty baby"
You giggle and sneak your nose deeper in his chest. You know you will sleep every well tonight.
————
"Okay, that's enough" You say when Namjoon and you leave a sixth shop with hands full of bags
He kept his promise and did spoil you. You have so many new designer clothes and jewelries, you are not even sure if you have enough place for them. Namjoon put the bags down and stops in front of another shop. He grabs your waist to pull you into his side, kissing your forehead in the process.
"I think this little blue panties will look cute on you. I can already picture your pretty ass in it" He says half playful, half serious
Your cheeks get red when you look at the scandalous underwear. It's so tiny, you don't know even see the point of it.
"Stop it!" You whisper, quite ashamed that someone will hear you
"Namjoon?"
A female voice behind you catches your attention. You both turn around to discover who called him. Your eyes open wide when you see a woman in her sixties. She is wearing a very simple yet elegant cream dress. But what catches your attention is her features: they're delicate and her eyes look so much like Namjoon's ones. You look up at him and notice the evident surprise on his face.
"Mom?"
What?!
You never thought that you would meet Namjoon's relatives in your life. You start to panic: how should you introduce yourself? You're not Namjoon's girlfriend but you cannot say you're his sugar baby either, that would be so fucking weird. However, you are clearly not just friends since he was hugging you just a few seconds ago.
Namjoon's mom takes her son in her arms and you smile when you see how big he is compared to her. It doesn't take long for you to realize that the woman is caring and loving. You now understand where Namjoon's kindness comes from.
She turns toward you, waiting for Namjoon to introduce you and you gulp, not knowing how he is going to get out of this odd situation.
"Mom, this is Y/N" He simply says, embarrassed — he doesn't know what to say either
"Nice to meet you!" She greets you warmly
Namjoon clearly gets what's underneath his mother's words: are you the one? Is he finally getting married? Only if his mom knew what kind of relation you two have...
Embarrassment is filling the air but the woman speaks again:
"I hope I'll see you for Namjoon's birthday on Friday"
Her voice is nothing but sweet, trying to make you comfortable
"Y/N will be there, don't worry" Namjoon reassures her but looks at you to silently ask you if it's okay
You can't be happier. A bright smile lightens your whole face. You will get to see another part of Namjoon and the most important one: his family. Is he really going to take this step with you? Fuck, your heart is beating so fast.
"I'm looking forward for it" You tell her, politely
"Well, I see you soon then. I guess you are... occupied" Namjoon's mom says as she takes a look at the shop behind you and you would like to disappear under the ground right now "It was lovely to meet you Y/N"
"You too, Mrs. Kim" You reply with red cheeks as you bow at her
"Bye, mom" Namjoon says as he hugs her again
She places a delicate peck on her son's cheek and continues her journey to another section of the mall.
"I'm so embarrassed" You confess with your hands on your face, which makes Namjoon giggle
"Don't be, baby" He reassures you as he pulls you into his embrace "I think she likes you"
"Really?" You ask with hope
Namjoon nods.
"It's the first time she sees me with a woman"
Is he aware about what his words are doing to you? Certainly not. Namjoon is not aware of the hope he is giving you. You can't help but imagine that, maybe, it's the first step to shift from his sugar baby to his actual girlfriend. Your heart beats so loud and fast in your chest at that thought.
"Let's get these panties" You finally say — he has introduced you to his mother, you can wear these ridiculous panties to make him happy
————
You don't really know how it happened but your life has turned into a roller coaster of emotions: you are so happy that you feel like flying and the very next moment everything seems to be crashed down. The latter is what you are feeling right now.
Honestly, the day has started quite good and you just wanted to go to the mall to find a gift for Namjoon's birthday. You've been searching for hours on the Internet for a good idea. When you thought about giving up, you saw a Vogue article about the new Bogetta Venata leather goods collection. The travel bag was so pretty that you basically ran to the store.
At that time, you were still very happy. But your whole mood changed when you met Lisa. You know damn well who she is: she had called Namjoon on FaceTime one day when you were with him. She also knows who you are since you were clearly visible — and very naked — in the back on the screen.
Your body is so tensed. You don't even know what to say to her so you hope she'll just ignore you. Well, it's not really Lisa's character...
"Oh, hi, sweetie!" Her voice is high and she looks so fucking hypocrite
"Hi" You reply with way less enthusiasm
"Did you find something nice?"
It takes you a few seconds to realize she is talking about your shopping session.
"Oh, I'm buying some birthday presents"
You're not sure you should say it's for Namjoon. However, Lisa surely knows his birthday date.
"If it's for Namjoon, you shouldn't bother" She snaps and you frown "You should start looking for a new sugar daddy, sweetheart. Namjoon is growing sick of us"
"What do you mean?" You say despite feeling that there is no air in your lungs right now
"He told me he doesn't want sugar babies anymore"
Shock is written all over your face but Lisa smirks. She was right: Namjoon was indeed keeping one girl. Too bad she met you today and told you the truth. She leaves you in the middle of the mall hall, completely lost.
Namjoon is cutting ties with all his sugar babies. It's just a matter of time before he does it with you. Fuck, it's going to hurt so bad. You can't wait with a sword of Damocles hanging above your head. You can't control Namjoon breaking your heart, however you can choose when he does it.
That's why you send him a text, asking if you can meet him at his office. He doesn't take too long to tell you you can come. You don't go to the receptionist this time and directly take the elevator for the twenty-sixth floor. Your hands are both sweaty and shaky as you are walking to Namjoon's office. You know how much you will be hurt when you step out of the room later and you are not really eager for it.
You knock on the door and hear Namjoon telling you to come in. The scene is painfully familiar but so much different at the same time since the mood is at the opposite of the last time you went to his office. You take a last deep breathe and open the door to face him. Fuck, he doesn't make anything easy. Why does he have to be so fucking hot today? And his damn dimple smile when he looks at you is not helping either.
However, his smile quickly disappears when Namjoon notices the look on your face. You are usually so cheerful, always smiling or blushing when you see him. But right now, he can only see pain on your pretty face.
"Is something wrong?" He asks with his eyebrows furrowed
"I want to talk about the contract" Your voice is way less confident than you would like it to be and it already sounds hurt
"What about it?"
You gather all your courage but you can't look at him. And goddamn, you can feel tears blurring your vision.
"I want to stop it"
The room is silent for a long moment. The tension is so big you feel like suffocating. You still don't look at Namjoon but you do hear him standing up and walking to you. You obliviously can't see how clenched are his jaws. He softly cups your face with his big hands and you finally look up. It takes everything you have not to let your tears from rolling down on your cheeks.
"Why? Did something happen?" He asks with some pain mixed with worry in his voice
"I just don't think it's what I want anymore"
It's the biggest lie of your life. You want him. More than everything. The real words that should have left your mouth are: 'I know it's not what you want anymore'. You hate the burning feeling in your chest. It's squeezing your heart so much you can't even breathe properly.
"I see" Namjoon simply replies and takes a step back
It's even more painful to feel the void he leaves. On your skin but also in your heart. Is that it? Is he not going to say anything? Deep down you wished he would try to change your mind but he doesn't. You really did imagine everything. You really fantasied his caring for you. You are so fucking stupid. All he cared about was your body. He even told you from the start, why did you think otherwise? Because of the way he looked at you? Because of his arms tenderly hugging you after sex? That's bullshit. The truth is that it didn't mean anything for him.
"I should get going" You say with a dry throat
Namjoon nods. You hope, for the last time, he'll say something but he doesn't. So you step out of his office, just before you burst into tears. 
2 → next
Taglist @gimeow @whoreseok723
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urmingirl · 5 months
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I'm ding-dong you're DDAENG
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joon4eva · 7 months
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just the tip? — kim namjoon.
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genre: established relationship au.
summary: you and namjoon are left alone together for a little too long. or: in your childhood home, you learn just how much is really "just the tip" with namjoon.
word count. 3,994 words.
warnings. semi-public sex, namjoon doesn't need much convincing, oral sex (m. receiving) unprotected sex but reader is on birth control, creampie, namjoon takes oc's underwear.
note: happy early bday to our leader who keeps me sane and motivates me to keep living everyday. here is some horny fluff word vomit inspired by all the content we've been getting of namjoon looking delicious in his buzzcut lately. i couldn't resist. pics above are from @rkivsfe ♡
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Namjoon seemed plucked straight from the pages of a classic romance, a perfect gentleman in every sense.
Throughout the day, your parents had been gracious hosts at their house, and Namjoon had gracefully navigated each conversation, his charismatic charm and impeccable manners in full display. 
Yet, it wasn't the refined qualities occupying your mind; rather, it was his freshly buzzed hair and the allure of his domesticated moments – like when he insisted on helping your mother – that made your heart race, feverish heat flooding your core at the thought of creating a home with him someday.
The both of you had never really properly broached the topic of children, especially since you were on birth control. While you had only been dating for two years, discussions of having children had stayed respectfully on the back burner; the decision to wait until marriage, or at least until life was less hectic, appeared sensible to both of you. 
For now, life as it was felt fulfilling.
But lately, as you watched Namjoon tenderly cradle a friend's baby or playfully chase nieces and nephews at family gatherings, you began to see the appeal of having a family with Namjoon. It was hard not to want it sometimes. 
It took every ounce of restraint not to lunge at him right there, an insatiable hunger bubbling within, barely contained. 
And when the rest of your family continued to mingle in the backyard, that was the moment you decided it was time to make your move. 
Namjoon's eyes narrowed perceptively, instantly detecting the undercurrent of mischief in your stride. 
Your smile, wide and radiant, was Oscar-worthy enough to mask your ulterior motives from everyone else; however, Namjoon could see right through your seemingly innocent offer of showing him a 'tour' of your childhood bedroom.
Determinedly, you grasped his arm firmly and practically dragged him up the staircase of your parents’ house and up to your old room located at the far end of the second-floor hallway.
To his credit, Namjoon nearly fell for your act. 
He attentively followed along while you animatedly led him around the room; pointing out the remnants of your teenage years evident in the faded posters of pop bands adorning the walls, a meticulously arranged collection of Studio Ghibli figurines that adorned shelves, and a colorful assortment of plush toys scattered about.
Golden sunlight pours through the window, playing on the sparkle in your eyes as your sundress embraces every curve. Beneath Namjoon’s clothes, a nagging ache intensifies, matched by the growing warmth and strain in his pants as he admires your radiance.
Slowly, time seemed to suspend itself, while the walls in your room appeared to close in on you both. Soon enough, you found yourselves standing face-to-face, completely absorbed by each other's presence.
“You okay?” you ask in a hushed tone.
Namjoon's eyes sparkle with mischief, his eyes shamelessly lingering on your figure. The corners of his mouth turn up in a cheeky grin.
"I know what you’re thinking." 
Brows knitting together, you blink in feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about," you murmur, eyes evading his as your arms cross protectively.
“Oh, of course. You were just so eager to show me your room,” he states matter-of-factly. 
Namjoon’s grin grows wider as he confidently strides closer, hands casually tucked in his pockets. “Nothing more to it, right baby?” 
What a fucking tease.
Warmth creeps up your cheeks as nervous laughter bubbles up, eyes avoiding his penetrating stare – Namjoon always had an uncanny ability to read you like an open book.
It was something that instantly made heat bloom between your thighs.  And when he was looking at you like that, it was impossible to hide anything from him. 
He tilts his head and studies you with an arched brow. “You have that look.”
“What look?”
“The bedroom eyes. I’ve seen it before.”
“I do not!” you manage to choke out, the words nearly vanishing from your throat.
Namjoon just chuckles, disarmingly smug. “Hm. If you say so.”
Within moments, you uncross your arms and navigate the remaining distance, your hands coming up to explore the contours of his body – fingertips slipping under his shirt, feeling the muscles tensing in his back before coming around and daintily migrating northward across his chest.
Namjoon leans down, claiming your lips with a fleeting kiss. "We probably shouldn't," he breathes out softly against your parted lips.
"Hmmm," you pout. "And why not?"
Not waiting for an answer, your lips continue their exploration – slowly moving from his lips, tracing the angles of his jaw, and dancing between gentle nibbles and fervent suction.
Beneath his shirt, your fingers tease his chest, leaving light scratches before brushing against his sensitive nipples.
It only took seconds before you could feel how hard and ready Namjoon was, as his skin burned hotter beneath your touch and his breaths grew shallow.
Trying to suppress a groan and maintain some level of composure, Namjoon bites down on his lip and whispers your name with an unsteady voice. 
"Your family is literally downstairs."
“They’re actually outside.”
Smiling mischievously, you return your attention to him by licking a slow stripe from his neck to the sensitive spot just below his ear – a place you’ve discovered he particularly enjoys being teased.
“I can’t promise I’ll want to stop at just kissing,” he warns with equal parts desperation and plea – a last attempt at cracking your resolve as his hands reflexively grip your waist in a manner both possessive and protective.
“And what?” you breathe out, each word soft and slow, a challenge in disguise. “Where would you want to stop?”
“I won’t.” 
Softening your gaze, you allow your lips to ghost over his. “Then don't hold back,” you whisper, pressing a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth.
His heated gaze flickers across every inch of you – taking in your expression, the way your body presses against his. You couldn't resist further taunting him. 
Your hands slide down his chest and towards the belt loops of his jeans, giving them a playful tug before swiftly moving to unbutton them.
It’s at this moment that Namjoon seems to snap out of his haze.
His lust-addled stupor evaporates like lifting fog, replaced by a rush of clarity where the lines between right and wrong become difficult to blur.
Suddenly decisive, he intercepts your wandering hands with a firm but gentle hold. 
“____. No.”
“I’ll be quiet,” you promise him, a sultry smirk playing on your lips, both tempting and dangerous.
“Baby. We are not fucking in your parents’ house—especially in broad daylight.”
"Oh, Joonie…" you sigh lovingly, pressing a tender and lingering kiss to the small mole just below his lip.
"Always such a gentleman. Holding my hand, praising me in front of my parents, even charming my mom... You don’t wanna fool around with me here?" 
Namjoon's mouth opens as if to protest further, but any words that threaten to come out are swallowed up by a groan that he struggles to stifle at the sensation of you swiftly tugging down his jeans and boxers, just enough for you to wrap your warm, tight hand around his thick length.  
"You’re…s-seriously out of your mind. We…we really shouldn't," he manages to utter, each word strained by the effort he puts into maintaining control – his dark eyes burning with barely restrained desire.
You pause your movements and look into his eyes. "We can make it quick. I promise I'll be quiet."
But you knew Namjoon had always preferred taking things slow, savoring every moment, especially during sex with you. He was never really a fan of rushing, and you learned along the way he was big on foreplay. 
Yet seeing you present yourself before him like a priceless treasure, accompanied by batting those alluring, pleading eyes at him, Namjoon can't help but consider going against his instincts for once – if only for five fleeting minutes.
“I knew you didn’t want to bring me up here just to—Fuck, hold on. Wait,” he stammers, suddenly remembering, “I– I don’t have any condoms. Well, I didn’t bring any, for obvious reasons.”
An awkward silence settles between you two as the unspoken question lingers, and you gaze into his eyes, searching for an answer.
His eyes widen just a fraction when he realizes what you’re silently asking. 
“God, are you…—? No," he says firmly. "Absolutely not."
"But I've been on birth control for years!" you whine.
Namjoon closes his eyes briefly and exhales sharply, tension radiating from his clenched jaw.
“Babe,” he utters with a heavy sigh.
"Namjoon," your voice is barely audible as you breathe the plea into the curve of his neck, the warm air causing a shiver of desire to course through him. 
Your thumb glides across the tip of his cock, smearing the glistening pearl of pre-cum that gathers from the tip.
Your lips begin to trail gentle kisses along the length of his throat, all while teasingly drawing the tip of your fingers up and down his shaft.
Namjoon's breath catches in response to your touch, gasping as he involuntarily thrusts upwards to meet your hand.
“What about ‘just the tip’?” you whisper. “Isn’t that something that guys like to do?”
“Well… I-I’m paranoid and we should be careful,” he stammers out. “It only takes one time, you know. Can’t this wait until we get home?” 
Noticing his faltering resolve, your lip catches between your teeth to suppress a sly grin. Wordlessly, you slowly sink to your knees in front of him. 
He watches transfixed as your tongue traces a slow path up the engorged vein of his cock, pausing to swirl around the head before taking him fully into your warm mouth.
Namjoon emits a soft groan - hands delicately cradling your jaw - while your cheeks hollow and your head begins to bob rhythmically, dewy eyes peeking out from beneath your lashes to watch him.
His head falls back and his eyes squeeze shut, fighting to restrain a moan as desire shoots through him like wildfire, fuelling your own craving for him even more fervently. 
You could sense him teetering on the edge, his self-restraint waning with each moment until, in one deft motion, he withdraws from your mouth just enough to stagger back, hoisting you up by your arms and steering you backwards until the mattress edge halts against your knees and topples you onto it. 
“You’re fucking shameless, you know that?” he pants, scrambling to shove his pants further down and stepping between your legs, holding his hard cock and leaning over you.
Below him, you giggle and hurriedly push your dress up, sliding your panties down and kicking them aside.
Grabbing your wrists, he pulls them over your head and pins them there.
And as his body aligns with yours – his strong chest firm against your breasts, his crotch deliciously nestled between your thighs – every last drop of doubt vanishes from both of your minds. 
Under the sultry gaze of his darkened eyes, he grips your face, his large hands cupping your delicate cheeks, thumbs tenderly caressing the soft skin. 
Your mouths meet urgently; his lips hungrily pressing against yours to lick and tug at your bottom lip, expertly swallowing every stifled sound that begs release.
"Joon," you murmur tenderly against his parted lips, pausing between kisses. "Touch me, please."
Your honeyed pleas don't go unanswered; Namjoon's hands swiftly comply with your demand, gently pulling down the elastic neckline of your dress far enough to let your breasts spring free. 
"Such a tease, wearing this," Namjoon grunts, grabbing a fistful of your dress, "fuck."
His eyes darken at the sight before him: your dress invitingly pooled at your waist, thighs parted and slightly glistening from your arousal visible even to him. It was nearly impossible for him to deny you anything at all when you pleaded with that breathy, needy tone.
His lips move with purpose, trailing a series of warm, sweet kisses across your collarbone, down to the valley between your breasts – lingering just long enough to elicit a breathy gasp before grazing your stiff nipples with feather-light nips. 
You struggle to bite back any gasping moans – honoring the promise you hastily made earlier – with only the softest sighs escaping your pursed lips.
“Feels good?" Namjoon murmurs softly, his hand navigating the space between your bodies to trace delicate circles around your throbbing clit.
"God, you're soaking wet already and I've hardly touched you."
Desperately trying to maintain silence, you find your hips moving instinctually in rhythm with the sinfully slow motions of his long fingers. They gather your slickness, teasingly near your dripping entrance with one finger before returning upward to trace unhurried, deliberate circles on your clit again with two fingers. 
“Wanna come first?”
Your bottom lip captured between your teeth, you shake your head.
"Can we… Can you pull out?" breathlessly escapes from your lips.
He groans your name gently, punctuating his words with a delicate nip on your jawline. "What happened to 'just the tip'?"
"I changed my mind," you whine weakly, stifling a frustrated groan when his fingers stop their movements.
Namjoon's chuckle against your skin is light and teasing. "My greedy girl,” he coos affectionately against your lips before pressing a lingering kiss on the corner of your mouth. 
“Wonder what your parents would think if they knew that right now, their precious daughter was up here with me, legs spread wide and begging for me like this? Hmmm?" 
His dirty words make you choke on a barely suppressed moan, but you do nothing to discourage him.
He doesn't pull his fingers away from your aching core – instead, he bends down to lick them clean before gently pressing them back inside of you.
“Please, just please, can we…” your voice falters as it dissolves into unintelligible murmurs, desperate for relief, desperate for him to fill you up the way you want. 
"So needy," Namjoon chuckles softly at your struggle for coherence; swiftly replacing his fingers with the head of his cock. 
"You’re sure about this?" he whispers hoarsely, the feel of him nudging at your entrance sending already rioting butterflies into overdrive.
Your hands instinctively slide over the firm contours of his backside, urging him closer as your hips rock against his. “Wanna feel you. All of you,” you softly mewl in his ear.
A primal growl emerges from Namjoon’s throat before he nips lightly at the tender flesh of your neck. “So filthy.”
Namjoon finally pushes inside of you, inch by torturous inch, until he’s buried to the hilt inside of you, slowly filling and stretching you in a way that makes your legs shudder and lock around his waist. 
His hips still, giving you time to get adjusted, or perhaps in an attempt to try to steady himself. 
He nuzzles into your neck, spreading his warm breath all over the soft skin there, nudging aside the fabric of your dress to press a kiss to your bare shoulder.
Your arms come up to wrap around his neck, fingers dancing across his freshly trimmed head, massaging and scratching softly at his scalp.
Your hips slightly roll to guide him deeper, enticing him to start moving. 
It's sheer, unadulterated bliss as he pumps into you, filling you up in perfect harmony with your own unsteady breaths.  
It feels even better than you thought – so warm and wet and snug around him, nothing has ever felt as good in your life. 
Out of all the things you and Namjoon have tried, this was something that you just haven’t done. 
And now you know you were ruined.
Ruined for using a condom ever again with this man. Your pulse is pounding so hard against your ears that it seems impossible to focus on anything else at this moment but him and how good it feels to have him bare inside of you. 
"You feel so fucking good, baby," Namjoon breathes hotly against the column of your throat. "So tight around me."
He’s fucking into you agonizingly slow and deep; his movements are deliberate and unhurried, each deep, slow stroke filling the air with your muffled moans and the wet sounds of your slick bodies every time his hips snap up against yours.
His hand entwines with yours, palm-to-palm above your head, while his other arm holds you closer by the thigh curled around his waist.
Enveloped in a sensuous fog where your senses blur and bend, you feel him gradually quicken his pace, each thrust growing more intense.
Namjoon nuzzles his face into your neck, soft moans vibrating against your skin. 
Teasingly, his pulsating shaft glides out completely – slow, torturously slow – pausing just before thrusting back in; filling you completely, his tip applying pressure to a hidden sweet cluster of nerves within you that ignites an uncontrollable tightening around him.
An unfamiliar sound escapes from your throat – a strange mixture of a whimper and his name – and he gasps before laughter takes over. His hand comes up to quickly muffle your sounds.
"Babe," he warns between giggles and gasps for air. "You promised you'd be quiet." 
“But—” your weak rebuttal trails off as warmth spreads across your face and tears gather at the corners of your eyes. “B-but it’s just so… F-feels… so…”
"Shhh, I know," he whispers tenderly against your mouth.
Namjoon’s hand trails from the curve of your thigh to weave through your hair, tightening at the back of your head and pulling you into another heated, sloppy kiss. 
“Doing so well for me,” Namjoon whispers between kisses. “Taking it all.” More kisses. Rougher and wetter. “S-so pretty… so fucking pretty wrapped around me like this.” 
With each impassioned stroke, you cling to him; muffled moans of his name escaping between breathless kisses as waves of warmth wash over you. 
"Want you to come... come inside, Joon, please," you softly plead.
Ardor begins to strain at every seam, your sweet plea threatening to shatter Namjoon's restraint, nearly sending him over the edge.
“Yeah? You close, baby?”
Your eyelids grow heavy, closing tightly as your head fervently bobs in agreement, words failing you.
To this, Namjoon plunges into you with a growl. His cock kisses your g-spot, again and again – and his face is a canvas of pure ecstasy as he thrusts forcefully, his hips colliding with yours while he drives himself even deeper, almost as if he was working to etch himself into your very being. 
Your teeth press into his shoulder to muffle your sobs, while your hands frantically wander— sliding under his shirt to rake at the damp skin of his back or bunching at the wrinkled sheets, desperately searching for something to ground you as he pounds into you, each powerful motion stealing more breath from your lungs. It’s a drawn-out, slow rolling orgasm that he drags out of you.
He fucks you through your climax; deep, steady thrusts that makes your legs quiver and your eyes lose focus as they roll back. 
A low, guttural moan suddenly escapes him as warmth begins to flood every nook and cranny within you, occupying and filling every gap.
The pulsating of the thick vein lining the underside of his cock throbs with each burst of his release, while your own walls tenderly constrict around him.
Your vision is consumed by whiteness as your eyes clench shut from the sheer force of shared euphoria, your mind wonderfully blank.
And then, stillness. 
He stays buried inside you, his large frame forming a protective shield around your body, like a giant blanket swaddling you both.
His nose gently nestles against the side of your neck, as the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest comes to match yours, slowly and peacefully. Your legs are still wrapped snugly around his waist, your hand tracing slow, lethargic circles on his back beneath his shirt.
“Holy shit,” you breathe in elation, “we should do that more often.”
Namjoon huffs out a laugh. Carefully shifting his weight, he hovers above you, hands on either side of your shoulders. “That good?”
“Yeah,” you exhale with a grin. “Really good.” “Really good,” he echoes with a laughter that dances at the edges of his eyes and alights the depths of his dimples.
And you laugh, too, delightfully dizzy and slightly sticky with perspiration as the sun spills through the window's gaps, rays of golden syrup bathing you in warmth.
Namjoon presses a fleeting but tender kiss to your mouth and gently pulls out of you, leaving a lingering emptiness and a sweet ache in your core that lingers.
His eyes curiously wander down to the apex of your thighs and you watch as his hand wanders down to pry your legs apart, his fingertips holding them open as he watches the warm, viscous fluid of his cum slowly form a trail from your entrance. He traces a gentle finger through the slick aftermath, a satisfied hum resonating as your body shudders with blissful oversensitivity. 
In this proximity, he bends down to place a tender kiss on the side of your jaw, with words that now flow like honey. “Think we could make that a priority,” he murmurs.
He follows up with another feathery kiss directly upon your lips - an almost chastely innocent smile dancing across his features, almost sinfully ironic.
You find yourself grinning in response to his obvious overture before letting your hand wander lower on his back.
Slowly, deliberately, almost flirtatiously, it reaches and gropes his rear end. "So would you be open to round two then?" you tease playfully as your fingers pinch just enough for him to know you're serious.
Namjoon’s immediate reaction is priceless – a jolt forward accompanied by an adorably indignant yelp as he tries (and fails) to hide his surprise at your boldness. All he can do is shake his head at you in disbelief before giving in once more to laughter. 
Eventually regaining some composure, he chides you gently by flicking your forehead with one finger, mimicking chastisement but betraying nothing but affection. You feign complete agony with a comically exaggerated moan and grip to your forehead, earning another round of laughter from Namjoon.
“Jesus, baby,” he says, exhaling a heavy breath, forcing a laugh. “You’re going to kill me.”
He shifts to a seated position on the mattress next to you before standing up, his back straight and his movements curiously graceful for someone so tall.
Your gaze follows him, transfixed as he grasps the edges of his boxers and jeans, lifting them back over his lean hips. 
You have to internally curse at how his shirt clings to him like a second skin, accentuating his broad form as he calmly fastens each button, the muscles in his biceps rippling subtly in the process.
This simple act (an undoubtedly mundane and ordinary action) transforms into a hypnotizing display just by virtue of it being Namjoon. 
Shifting your position slightly, you slide the straps of your dress back into place, readjusting the elastic neckline to cover your chest.
Propped up on your elbows, your eyes dart around for your missing panties.
Namjoon seems to be almost telepathic in this moment, glancing over and catching your eye.
Realizing what you're searching for, a playful smirk forms on his lips.
He bends down to retrieve your underwear from its hiding spot on the floor and rather cheekily shoves it into his pocket instead of handing it to you.
Feigning irritation, you huff as he saunters victoriously across the room towards the bedroom door with his stolen trophy secured in his pocket. 
“Namjoon,” you protest, now sitting up completely. “I need those!”
"You can have them back later," he calls over his shoulder as he begins opening the door. 
The curve of his lips breaking into a gentle smile as he adds, "Let's go home. And don't worry, love - I'll keep these safe for you."
As if to emphasize his point, he gives the pocket safeguarding your panties a delicate pat - one last playful jest before disappearing beyond the doorway.
658 notes · View notes
everkook · 7 months
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happy birthday namu ♡
609 notes · View notes
persphonesorchid · 5 months
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Orbiting Jupiter - KNJ
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Summary: Namjoon has never met someone like you in a long time. Jupiter to his Ganymede; he's stuck in your orbit.
Warnings: Lots of anxiety on Namjoon's part, mentions of being stalked, Namjoon hurts himself more than anything bc he's clumsy. Smut (Minors begone.): Unprotected sex, mutual masterbation, light spit play, Namjoon's daddy kink is a brief topic of interest lol. I think that's all, let me know if i missed any!
Word count: 13.4k
Genre: Idolverse, strangers to lovers, fluff, a bit of angst (it's not much, promise :)) Smut
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Notes: FINALLY FINISHED!! This would have been out a whole lot sooner, but i've been dealing with life, stress, a breakup...more stress lol. But it's all good now! I really hope you guys enjoy this, and please leave feedback, even if it's just a little smiley face in the comments! Have a good day!!
Masterlist
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Namjoon is dressed casually enough, he thinks. Inconspicuously enough that he won’t be recognized, enough that he could become another face in the crowd; enough to blend in.
It’s early, but the city is bustling with people starting their day. He tries not to be suspicious, as much as he could. Tries to navigate a city he’s been in many times before like he’s lived there his whole life. He tries not to look over his shoulder too much, guard up, like he’s just waiting for someone to run up to him and demand his attention. The mask and hat he picked out before he sneaked out of his hotel room brought him little comfort. He hopes that no one would give him a second glance or look too closely.
To this day he’d never understand how his fans can tell him apart by the way he walks, or by his eyes alone. So, he keeps his head down, hands in his pockets, and tries not to think too much about his stride.
He’s not sure what he’s looking for, what he’s doing out of his hotel room so early. He has no schedule today, free to do what he likes, and he just needed to get out for a minute or two. He wasn’t planning on straying too far, especially since he’s told no one that he was leaving. He found himself just walking, though, enjoying the sights and the people leading simple lives.
He finds a little café after walking some more, and stands outside it, out of the way of the door to avoid being an issue. It’s crowded inside, and anxiety curls in his stomach as he contemplates going in. He believes no one would recognize him, he hopes that no one would look too long, and he steps inside.
It’s a bit quieter than he expected, people talking in low murmurs amongst themselves. The loudest things being the sound of a coffee grinder running and a barista calling someone for their order. It’s a small café, more dining space than workspace, and Namjoon wanders over to the resister and orders without issue.
His eyes trail over the other patrons, everyone absorbed in their own worlds and conversations. The table he eyes quickly gets taken while he collects his iced Americano and he sighs softly, despite the amount of people in, he doesn’t want to leave yet, and the only available spot to sit comes with another person. Namjoon weighs his options. He could go outside, find a little park to sit in and drink his coffee, or he could risk it here, where someone has yet to pay him any mind. It’s been so long since he’s been able to walk freely, he knows he’ll miss it when he goes back through the front door.
So, with cautious steps, he walks over to the table with the only available seat.
“Excuse me...” Namjoon softly calls, briefly contemplating on tapping your shoulder; you’re reading a book, and he knows well how easily one can get lost in those. You look up though, the tiny furrow between your brows gives way to your confusion, as well as the little humming sound you make. “Sorry...do you mind if I...”
Namjoon motions to the chair across from you, and you look at it and then back to him for a few seconds before realization blooms in your eyes.
“Oh! No, of course...just...go ahead.” Your smile is pretty, Namjoon notes, and he realizes, as he thanks you and sits, that you recognize him. You stare at him in a knowing kind of way, and before Namjoon can up and leave, you simply smile the way you had before, as though he was any other stranger wanting to share your table. He watches with bated breath, trying to stay calm just in case, and you just go back to reading your book.
There’s no fanfare, no freaking out and drawing attention, or asking for a photo and too invasive questions. You don’t even look at him again. The sound of you flipping the pages of your book melds into the background noise of the space, and Namjoon finds it strange. He thanks his stars, though, he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth and risk losing his head.
He relaxes when you continue to pretend he isn’t sitting in front of you, your eyes following the words on the page. There’s a tap of your fingers against the wooden tabletop, and a minute shake of your head before you close your eyes for a moment. You take an agitated breath, and Namjoon pauses the movement of him trying to get the straw underneath the bottom of his mask and watching you at the same time. He tries to peek at the cover of the book you’re reading, curious.
You shake your head again, muttering to yourself before going back to reading, your expression quickly blanks as you start back up again. Namjoon sips his coffee, for once feeling relaxed in a room full of strangers and lets his eyes trail elsewhere. Over to the little potted flowers that line the windows, or the people passing outside.
There’s a sudden squeak from you and Namjoon looks at you in time to catch the look of utter disbelief on your face. With frantic fingers you fish a bookmark from the back pages of the book before marking your spot and closing the book with a soft smack. Gently, with enough care that someone would think you’re handling glass, you place the book onto the table with a sigh and pick up your drink. You still don’t look his way, sipping at your drink with a frown and an irritated draw to your brows. Not that Namjoon is complaining, he swears he isn’t. It’s just...weird. He expected you to at least sneak a glance by now.
Curiosity should be a cardinal sin, as it’s gotten him into trouble more times than he could count, but Namjoon decides to dig his own grave anyway.
“What were you reading?” He asks, and it takes a moment, you’re clearly in your head, staring off at nothing and muttering into your drink. You look at him when his words finally break through.
“Huh? Oh...” You set your cup down, turning the book to him, “'The Desolation of Devil’s Acre'. It’s the last book of a series I’m following, and the main character is just...” You sigh through your nose, “He’s an idiot.”
You talk to him like any stranger, it almost made Namjoon think that you didn’t recognize him at all. He still sees it in your eyes, and as you’ve been adamant not to, he doesn’t address it either.
“I’d bet...” Namjoon chuckles, “If your reaction was anything to go by.”
There’s an embarrassed air about you now as you let out a soft laugh. Namjoon wants to smack himself though, he’d just told you that he’s been staring at you long enough to notice.
“Ah, yeah.” You wave a hand, “I bought it earlier...I was too excited and just got into it but Jacob is an idiot. He just makes me wanna reach in there and smack him silly.”
“Is it good?” Namjoon nods at the book, taking a moment to look at the cover. It’s black and white, a little girl sits on a black chair, a wall of photos is the backdrop, staring into the camera with big clear eyes and someone’s hand is tugging on the sleeve of the black and white chequered striped dress. It seems like a horror novel if Namjoon is being honest.
“I haven’t read much of this one yet, but the previous ones are amazing. Too bad the movie didn’t follow it correctly.” There’s an excitement in your eyes, and you seem perfectly content to rave about all the ways the movie went wrong and did the book absolutely no justice. Namjoon nods along, throwing questions at you about the books when he can, and by the time you’re done he’s laughing at something, and you are too. His iced Americano is now just an Americano that’s just slightly cold, more water than coffee, but Namjoon doesn’t mind and drinks it anyway. He still hasn’t removed his mask, but you don’t seem too bothered by it.
“It just would’ve been so much better if they’d followed the book correctly. I was so excited about the movie, and they just went and messed it up.” You sigh, taking a sip at your drink, Namjoon’s sure it’s cold by now. “You should give it a read, though...” You tilt your head at him, humming, and Namjoon tilts his head back, you can’t see it, but he smiles, the furrowing of his brows you do see.
“What?” Namjoon asks, a little amused by your sudden pause. You study him for a minute, but he’s comfortable enough in this space you’ve created that it doesn’t set off the usual alarm bells in his head. You’ve done wonders for treating him as just another person. Simply Kim Namjoon, who wandered into this small café and took the seat opposite you, and not RM of a globally recognized pop septet.
“You don’t strike me as a fantasy guy.” You say, eyes slightly narrowed.
“Oh yeah? And what do I strike you as?”
He leans forward a bit, genuinely curious, unintentionally flirty. He does his best to reel himself in, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. You take it in stride, though, despite the flush to your cheeks and the embarrassed air that lingers.
“Philosophy, poetry...maybe a bit of romance.” You finally say, smiling a bit.
Namjoon hums, leaning back into his chair, “You know a lot.” He says, but between the string of words lies the unspoken ‘You know me.’. He studies you as you study him, your face betraying no emotion.
You simply shrug, lifting your cup to your lips again, “Human decency.”
Namjoon quite likes your company, and he spends an hour more sitting opposite you, enjoying the sense of normalcy you provide. He wonders what you both look like to onlookers, like two friends who haven't seen each other in a while and are simply catching up. It feels that way for Namjoon.
He sits there until his coffee is finished and yours is too and you’ve tucked your book away and you're both talking again about anything that comes to mind. You don’t ask him about his work, but you ask about what he’s into these days, he recommends books and music he’s sure you’ve never heard of, and you do the same.
Time passes and then some more, and it's enough time for someone to realize that he’s missing. His phone vibrates against his leg right in the middle of him explaining why he thinks some things that happen in life can’t simply be chalked up to coincidences and he startles, leg jerking, knocking his knee against the underside of the table.
It rattles the empty cups topside with a dull thud and a sharp pain shooting up Namjoon’s leg, you wince with him, and he mutters a string of expletives. Rubbing a hand furiously against the offended spot, Namjoon fishes his phone from the pocket of his jeans, not bothering to check who’s calling before he answers.
“Hello?”
“Namjoon-ah, where are you?” Seokjin’s voice is a little far away and a little distracted. He suddenly yells a curse and Namjoon can only assume he’s spent his morning breaking in some new game he bought. “Sejin-nim was looking for – fuck, I hate this game – something about a briefing. You’re not in your room.”
“Ah, Hyung. I took a walk...I’m not far. Yeah – I'm coming back...Okay.” Namjoon glances at you as he pockets his phone again, smiling with his eyes.
You smile back, waving a hand, understanding as he picks up the empty take away cup and stands to leave. There’s no complaint from you, nothing in your eyes that tells of anything else. “It was nice meeting you.” You say softly, leaning forward a bit even though the chances of you being overheard by anyone else was slim.
“You too.” Namjoon says, and he means it. You’re like a diamond in a coal mine, as finding someone like you – being who he is - was rare. As soon as the thought crosses his mind, Namjoon pauses in the step he makes, faltering at your side and you look up at him curious and confused. He wars with himself for a moment, he’s certain that he’s about to do something stupid.
Something he should never do because of how dangerous it could be not only for him but his groupmates. He stares at you for a moment, long enough that it warrants your concern, and you ask if he's okay.
“Can I... Is it okay if I ask for your number?” The words come tumbling out of his mouth before he can reel them in, and he’s standing there a little mortified.
Namjoon always prides himself in being self-assured, but that same self-assurance leads him to putting his foot in his mouth sometimes and he says things without thinking first. It’s too late to pull the words back or act like he hadn’t asked because you’re blinking up at him, sitting a little straighter now in your seat.
You glance around, brows furrowed, “Are...are you sure?”
For the first time, it seems as though it just registered that you’re speaking to RM of BTS.
There’s a nervousness about you now, as you glance to the side, and Namjoon finds this strange. He’s not trying to sound like an ass thinking that many others would jump at the offer – or be bold enough to demand it first – it’s simply the truth.
He finds your consideration refreshing, though, and he waits patiently for you to make up your mind. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and Namjoon backtracks, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to.” Namjoon says, putting up a hand. Despite who he is in the eyes of the public; he’s still a man. A man you’ve only spoken to for a half hour who’s now asking for your number, Namjoon would think very hard about it if he were in your shoes, too.
“I don’t meet a lot of people like you, and I thought it would be nice if we spoke often, but if that’s not cool, that’s okay.”
You shake your head, “No... it’s okay. I just...Are you sure? I don’t want to put you in any difficult spots, or myself for that matter...”
You’re surprisingly calm, looking more wary than anything else, and Namjoon takes that as a good sign. “I’m sure, don’t worry.” He smiles and pulls his phone out of the pocket of his jeans; he unlocks it with a press of his thumb and hands it over to you.
You fumble a little with the device, fingers tapping at the number pads quickly before handing it back to him. He shoots you a quick text, a simple ‘Hi :”)' before he was pocketing his phone again before he was waving and making his way out the café door.
Namjoon tries his hardest to keep walking forward back down the street and not jog back over to the glass window to wave at you. That would be very weird of him.
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Namjoon’s day goes on as normal, not like he was expecting anything different. A whirlwind of briefings and meetings and discussions on what would be done during his group’s free time. It's no different to any other time, but by the end of the day Namjoon’s brain feels like mush and he’s lying in bed, palms under his head as he gazes at the swirling patterns etched into the ceiling.
He sighs, it’s long, drawn out and tired. He blinks slowly, sitting up to lean against the headboard. The sun had long set and only the glow of the city lights penetrated the darkness of his hotel room through the large window.
He squints at the lights that are too far off to be anything but hovering blobs in the distance, and briefly, he wonders what you’re up to.
Oh, that’s right.
Namjoon fumbles through the mess of his sheets to find the phone he knows he tossed there somewhere. It’s nowhere near him and he stands, lifting the sheets to look. There’s a dull thud and a clatter, and with a sigh, Namjoon rounds the bed to find his phone on the floor.
He plops back on the bed, pressing the power button and inspecting the screen for cracks. There’s a flurry of notifications and emails and texts from his group mates and work, and Namjoon scrolls through his notification feed. At the bottom, he finds a text from you; a reply to the message he’d sent earlier.
‘Hi (:’
It’s cute in its simplicity, but Namjoon stares at the place where your contact information sits. Just your number and nothing else, and Namjoon comes to the realization that he didn’t ask you for your name at any point this morning.
You had responded hours ago, and had sent nothing else, and with some embarrassment, Namjoon types out a message.
Namjoon: Hey, sorry I missed your text! Busy day, you know?
He frowns at the message when it goes through, at the time stamp that reads a little past midnight. You’re probably asleep and the timing seems a little less than ordeal, a little inappropriate given the hour, but Namjoon lets out a surprised hum when the bubbles appear at the bottom.
Unknown: Hey! No worries, it’s totally okay.
Namjoon: You’re up late...
Namjoon pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, was that a weird thing to mention? He can’t help but feel like he’s blowing this somehow. Is there a right way to text someone you barely know? He shakes his head, deciding not to think too much on it.
Namjoon: Sorry, but I didn’t ask your name earlier.
Unknown: Haha, that’s okay. It’s Y/n. And yeah, I was just finishing up some work.
Namjoon contemplates his next question, nerves running amok in his tummy.
Namjoon: Can I call you? Is that okay?
The bubbles appear and disappear for a moment and Namjoon thinks he’s overstepped. It’s pushing one in the morning and Namjoon’s aware of how it may look to you, how it may look to anyone else for that matter.
Y/n: Sure, we can do that.
Namjoon sighs, looking out the window, away from his phone to give himself a moment. You too – he’s mindful of himself, of course. He taps on the call button before he could talk himself out of it.
The line rings for a couple seconds, and Namjoon thinks that maybe you’ve stepped away for a minute or perhaps this was the wrong move and he shouldn’t have asked, but you pick up before another ring could sound. It’s quiet for a second and then he hears you inhale softly.
“Hey.” Your voice sounds a little different over the phone, or maybe it's just the time and Namjoon’s mind is trying to go places it shouldn’t. You’re as calm as you were this morning in the cafe, nothing in your voice betrays your emotion.
“Hey.” Namjoon can’t help the smile, and he’s sure you heard it in his voice. “I know it’s late, I’m sorry.”
“Nah, you’re good. I had a coffee so I’ll be awake for a while again.”
Despite your words your voice sounds tired and Namjoon feels guilty, laying back against the headboard with a soft sigh.
He asks about the book you’re reading and he listens to your rambles about the chapter you finished. Then you both talk about anything that comes to mind.
“How’d your day go? You don’t have to be too specific or anything, just in general.” You murmur softly, when Namjoon’s laying down fighting to keep his eyes open because he doesn’t want to hang up yet.
“Hectic.” He answers honestly, he can hear you shuffle around, getting comfortable in your sheets. “You?”
“It was alright, I spent half the morning freaking out, really. Today felt a little dream-like. If you hadn’t texted, I probably would’ve convinced myself that I imagined the whole thing.” You chuckle, and then there was a small pause, “Sorry, I’ve been so chill about it this whole time.”
“You’re fine. Handling it better than most.” Namjoon says, “I’m glad you didn’t freak out when you met me though.”
“Human decency.” You repeat your words from earlier, and Namjoon feels a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “You’ve probably had enough of that to last you a lifetime.”
“It’s not too bad, sometimes anyway.” He says softly, halfway asleep and he’s sure you are too. Your voice is getting quieter, and Namjoon can’t keep his eyes open.
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When Namjoon wakes it’s to the sun shining into his eyes and his phone is still in his palm. It’s a little after eight am when he checks, and the call had already been disconnected sometime around seven. There’s a message wishing him a good morning from you, there’s a flutter in his tummy at the little yellow heart that ends the text, and he thinks it may be a little too early for that kind of response. He can’t help it though, and he lays in bed for another few minutes and stares at it with a stupid smile on his face.
He wonders what to do with his day, now with more than enough free time on his hands to do whatever he likes and then he wonders what you were doing today. There’s an all-consuming longing for the sense of normalcy you provided within the day he’s known you, and he knows that isn’t much time to find comfort in a person, but he guesses that’s just how it is when you live like he does. However, he doesn’t want to scare you away with his need to feel something that was long lost to him, so he puts off asking you anything.
He has a few things lined up on his personal itinerary: Museum crawls and sightseeing, all of which he would do alone and hopefully without any troubles along the way. He finally decides to bite the bullet when he’s done with his breakfast and sitting at the small table in his hotel room, fiddling with his phone and his bottom lip between his teeth. You hadn’t replied to his responding text from earlier and Namjoon can only assume you’re busy, but he texts anyway.
Namjoon: Are you busy today?
He locks his phone and cleans up the table, snatching his phone up when it chimes softly, smiling already.
Y/n: Not particularly…why?
Namjoon could never distinguish tone from texts, so he’s not sure if you’re suspicious or teasing, so he replies carefully.
Namjoon: I’m doing a thing today…some sightseeing or I might go to a museum…wanna come with?
The bubbles disappear and reappear and then you’re calling.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Don’t feel obligated to either.” Is the first thing he says when he answers, just to be certain.
“It’s not that I don’t want to, I’d love to. I just need to know if it’s okay.” There’s a hesitance in your voice, a certain type of worry.
Namjoon is quick to ease, “I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t, Y/n.” He says with a chuckle.
“Ah, okay.” You laugh a little, “Oh but what about...do I have to sign an NDA?”
Namjoon pauses, he’s forgotten about that. He runs a hand through his hair, “Is that okay?”
“That’s fine.” There’s a smile in your words and Namjoon can’t help but smile back. “Where do I meet you?”
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Namjoon sat across from his manager, Sejin, in his hotel room. He clears his throat, feeling a bit nervous about what he was going to ask.
“Sejin,” Namjoon begins, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Sejin, always attentive to Namjoon’s needs, leaned forward. “Sure, what’s on your mind, Namjoon?”
Namjoon hesitated for a moment before continuing, “There’s a friend I met recently, and I was hoping to bring her along with me when I go to the museum today.”
Sejin raises an eyebrow, his protective instincts kicking in. “A friend? Are you sure that’s a good idea, Namjoon? You know how public spaces can get, especially with a girl by your side.”
Namjoon nods, understanding Sejin’s concern. He’s well aware of how things can get, being who he is, especially in the eyes of some of his fans. “I know, Sejin. She's a good friend of mine, she won’t cause any trouble.”
Of course, Namjoon doesn’t know that for sure, but he’s willing to take the risk, and Sejin doesn't need to know he'd only met you yesterday; what he doesn't know won't kill him. One thing he’s certain of is that you’re different, and that’s something he can bet on.
Sejin contemplates for a moment, silent as he thinks before sighing. “Alright, Namjoon. I trust your judgement. But we need to take some precautions. We’ll have her sign a non-disclosure agreement to ensure our privacy and safety.”
Namjoon smiles, relieved that Sejin was willing to accommodate him. “Thank you.”
Namjoon paces in the hotel lobby an hour later, nerves making him unable to stand still for too long. He had met you just a day ago, but there’s something about you that intrigued him deeply. The way you’ve treated him like a regular person, not as the famous musician he was, is perhaps the biggest factor. He found that both fascinating and endearing.
Moments later, you walk into the lobby, looking a bit nervous yourself. You smile when you spot him, lifting your hand in a little wave. Your smile immediately puts Namjoon at ease. You’re wearing a simple dress, a backpack slung over one shoulder, walking over to him in quick steps.
“Hey.” You stop once you’re close enough, still smiling.
Namjoon smiles back, feeling a sense of relief. “Hey, Y/n Thanks for coming.”
You wave him off with a hand, looking around at the large lobby, the lights sparkling in your eyes.
Sejin is waiting at a table near the reception desk, and stands to shake your hand when Namjoon leads you over.
You take a seat and go through the formalities with him, and sign the NDA without complaint. Namjoon can’t help but feel a little worried, like he’s turning your life on its head by knowing him personally.
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Namjoon watches the scenery pass by through the tinted glass of the car Sejin rented, the small talk died down as he pulled into the carpark of the museum. He leads you through the private entrance, where the manager meets you both with an enthusiastic greeting.
The museum is empty, and Namjoon catches the wonder in your eyes when he looks at you. “You rented out the whole place?”
Namjoon chuckled. “Yeah, I normally do. It’s more so for safety than anything else.”
You hum, nodding in understanding as you trail next to him. “It’s pretty cool, I’ve never been in one while it’s empty before.”
The private tour begins, and Namjoon’s knowledge and passion for art shines through as he explains the significance of each piece, trying his best to keep you entertained. You listen intently, genuine interest evident, even asking questions in between his rambling.
“You know,” You say, staring at a painting of abstract colours, “This is not at all how I imagined this to go.”
Namjoon raises an eyebrow, intrigued. He’s long stopped paying attention to the art that lined the walls, admiring you, mostly. “Oh? What did you imagine?”
You shrug, turning your head to look at him, a playful glint in your eye. “Well, I expected bodyguards, and a bit of running around. This is nice, though.”
Namjoon smiles, nodding, “Yeah, I would usually have someone close by, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
You frown a bit, “Isn’t that dangerous though? You should have someone nearby regardless.”
“Your comfort is important.” Namjoon says, trying to keep you from worrying too much.
“Your safety is too, you know.”
“Would it make you feel better if I told you he’s right outside?” Namjoon smiles, he could see you’re ready to debunk his words with the way your eyes narrow. “Don’t worry, someone’s near, just not as near as they would be normally.”
You stare at him for a quiet moment longer, “Okay, I’ll take your word for it.”
As the both of you continued your tour, the conversation between you flowed effortlessly. Namjoon took the moment he had to know more about you. Asking about your dreams, how far you’ve gotten in that book of yours, and the places you wanted to travel to. He found you easy to talk to, allowing himself to open up to you in a way he hadn’t with many people.
Something in the back of his mind, a learned warning echoed. He really shouldn’t be, considering everything. He chooses to ignore it for now, as you ask him about his favourite pieces of art.
By the time the tour was over and Namjoon actually remembered to take photos of the art, the sun was at its zenith. He tries not to take too long touring, so the museum can at least open to the public for the rest of the day.
You’re scrolling through your phone, looking at the photos you took of the pieces that caught your attention.
“Wanna get some food? There’s a good place nearby.” Namjoon asks, tucking his phone into his jeans.
You nod, smiling, “I can eat.”
Namjoon drives you both to a diner he’d visited once or twice when he was last in this city. The diner was packed for the lunch rush and Namjoon contemplates his next move in the car.
“Oh, that’s...” You glance between him and the view of the people in the diner, “I’ll go, whatchu want?”
“I can go...” You’re already unbuckling your seat belt and leaning down to rummage through your backpack. You find your purse with a soft ‘a-ah!’, smiling at him as you right yourself and turn to him again.
“It’s alright. It’s pretty crowded... you might not be so lucky this time.” You say, “Want anything specific?”
Namjoon smiles at you, shaking his head with a small laugh, “Anything’s fine.”
You nod, opening the door, there’s a rush of warm air that disturbs the AC, and Namjoon is stopping you. “Hang on...”
He sees you shake your head as he reaches for his wallet, and you step out before he can hand you his card.
“You can get it next time.” With that you’re off, and Namjoon watches a little slack jawed as you go.
Something in his chest flips and crawls up his throat, “...next time?”
You come out of the cafe, balancing two cups of something colourful in a cardboard holder and two brown paper bags a good five minutes later. Namjoon leans over to the passenger seat to pop the door open for you, extending his arm to take the holder.
“I got you a smoothie if that’s okay,” You say once you settle, passing him one of the paper bags, “Ham, egg and cheese sandwich.”
“Smoothies are good, thank you,” The smoothie is a mix of some fruit and another he can’t put his finger on. He hums at the sweet taste, “Oh, that’s good.”
For a moment, you both quietly eat, “Thanks for inviting me to come with you. I had fun.”
“Sure you weren’t bored out of your mind?” Namjoon teases, smiling when you reach over to smack his arm lightly.
“I was not!” Your giggle rings like a bell, “I mean it.”
As the days go by and his time in this city draws nearer to an end, Namjoon tries his best to spend as much time with you as he could. He’d text and call when he can and when your time allows it, learning more about you as he went along and liking you more as he did. He felt strange for the most part, as his two-week break comes to an end and he’s packing his things away and double checking that he doesn’t forget anything or pack something that isn’t his. His phone is propped up against the bedpost, distracted from folding his clothes by the view of you coming back into the frame.
“You’ll be busy once you get back, right?” You ask, sipping juice through the straw of a juice box.
Namjoon sighs, “Yeah, I’ll try my best to keep up with you, though.”
“You don’t have to.” You wave him off with a hand, “You’re a busy guy.”
“Would you miss me?” Namjoon asks, curious, because he’ll miss you. Is it normal to feel this way about someone you’ve known for only a short while?
“Nah.”
“Ow.”
“I’m kidding.”
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Namjoon rolls his suitcase behind him, taking a moment to wave at the paparazzi and the fans that litter the terminal. He grips his phone tightly in his free hand, smiling at the cameras. He’s slept a little on the plane over, and even though he’s wide awake now he knows he’ll crash later. His phone buzzes in his hold and he briefly glances at it, he texted you right before he landed, and was eagerly awaiting your response.
He waits until he’s seated in the car at the entrance, he waves one last time through the window before he rolls it right up and settles into the leather seat of the car. The silence is soothing and Namjoon watches as the people outside filter away now that he’s inside.
Y/n: Hope your flight went okay!
Namjoon studies the text for a moment, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He was a little worried, honestly. He likes you, a lot, really, but what if it was simply in passing? A fleeting moment of interest? What if it all amounts to nothing in the end all because you’re you and he’s him? It’s easier to date within your own circle, to be with people who understand the complications and compromises that come with being with someone like him. He feels as though now, with an ocean between you both, everything will simply fade away. He’s known you barely two weeks, and even though he’s let you in, and you him, Namjoon can’t help his growing anxiety at the thought. Funny it occurs to him now that he’s back home.
Namjoon: It did!
He stares out the window for a bit, watching the familiar streets zoom by and shakes his head. When was the last time he actually felt like this? Meeting people is hard enough, and meeting someone like you is even harder. He’s seen and met a lot of people over the years, over his time as RM of BTS, a lot of fans who he thought beautiful and never pursued. He knows what comes of relationships between an idol and a fan, he’s seen it happen and it’s always a disappointment to be used like that. But he doesn’t want to put you in that box, he has no right to when you’ve shown him differently. Though, he’s in his right mind to keep an eye out for tabloids and articles of the things he’s shared with you and he also feels guilty that he does. He’s only known you for a short time, something he constantly has to remind himself of when he’s thinking too hard, but that level of trust is something he’s willing to work towards with you.
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Namjoon’s days blur together into the weeks as they would when he’s too busy to do anything else but what’s required of him. Meetings here and there, album preparations; work. As he promised, he tried his best to keep up with you, and even on the days where all he could do when he comes home is pass out wherever he sets himself, you text or call to make sure he’s doing okay with it all. Sometimes it’s too early for you to consider being awake or it’s late at night and you’re too tired to keep your eyes open and Namjoon could barely understand what’s coming out of your mouth.
As the weeks meld into months you both found a routine that works best, and Namjoon finds things to do with you when you’re both free at decent times. Maybe you’ll watch a movie or play games together or simply catch up on things you’ve missed.
Namjoon never really has much to tell, most of his days are filled with work and despite his reputation for spoilers, he’s trying his best to keep things under wraps. You do most of the talking, you never seem to mind it much – smiling with a certain understanding – and Namjoon is always happy to listen about what you did that day or your workplace gossip.
He’s found it impossible to get you out of his head and focus more often, thoughts of you invading his mind more than anything else.
Even now as he tries to focus on putting a track together, he’s barely with it, phone propped up against a speaker and waiting for you to get back from getting some things done. He moved from the living room to his home studio a while ago, determined to get some work done and now just sits and stares at the tracks with a frustrated frown. He squints at the screen, moving some things around and playing the same track over and over.
“Where’re your glasses?”
Namjoon glances at his phone to see you just settling back on your couch, a glass bowl of cereal in your hand. You look cute in blue jellyfish printed pajamas he hasn’t seen you in before, hair pulled up and away from your face and even through the phone screen Namjoon can see it’s still damp.
“They’re…” He thinks for a moment, “…somewhere…”
You chuckle, “You should get those thingies kids and old people put on their glasses so they won’t lose them.”
“Trying to say something?”
“I’m just saying…you either lose them or break them and you can just avoid both by getting the thing. I know contacts are annoying.”
Namjoon smiles, nodding, “Yeah, they’re a pain in the ass.” He sighs, pushing his chair away from the desk to spin around and stretch his fingers. “Isn’t it late for you?”
You put another spoonful of cereal in your mouth, turning your hand to look at your watch and hum, “It’s not that late…trying to get rid of me?”
“Never.” Namjoon smiles at your teasing tone, “Sleep is important, though.”
“Says you.” You point a finger at him, “You texted me at three am two days ago.”
“You were awake though, so…you’re losing this argument.” Namjoon laughs as you snap your mouth shut.
You point your spoon at him, “I’ll win next time.”
“Are those new? The pyjamas.” Namjoon asks, propping his chin on his hand, resigning himself to not getting any work done this morning.
“I’ve had these a while, aren’t they cute? There’s a really big jellyfish printed on the back.” You say, setting your bowl down with a soft clink of the glass against the wood of your coffee table.
“Yeah they’re…” Namjoon feels the words stall in his throat as you stand up, the bottoms of the pajamas aren’t long legged pants as he expected them to be. They end just above the middle of your thighs, and you’re giving him quite the show when you turn and come back down. The sight of the cartoonish jellyfish on the back of the top knocks Namjoon back where he’s supposed to be and he pinches the back of his hand.
When you right yourself, sitting back on the couch, Namjoon can’t stop thinking about the rest of you he can’t see.
“What’s with that look?” You ask after a moment of him just staring.
“What look?” Namjoon asks back, and for a second you simply watch him before you huff out a laugh and look away.
“You’re looking at me like you…” You start, eyes moving back to the camera before they flit away again, “Oh, my mum’s calling. I’ll text you in the morning, okay?”
Namjoon laughs a bit, nodding as he waves you goodbye, “Sleep well.”
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“Ah, fuck.” Namjoon grunts, the muscles of his arm strains and he tilts his head back, sweat trailing down his neck. He brings his arm up and then back down slowly, letting a breath out through his nose, “Shit.”
The music playing through his Bluetooth headphones suddenly fades out, the specific ringtone he set for you plays softly. Namjoon sets the dumbbell down on the floor, pressing a finger against the touchpad of one of the earbuds and answers.
“Hey Princess, what’s up?” He pulls at the end of his tee, fanning the cool ac air against his warm skin.
“Joon, it’s a video call.”
“Oh.” Namjoon pulls his phone from his pocket, waving at you with a smile, “Hi.” He gets off the bench he’s sitting on, propping his phone somewhere safe and sits again.
“Hi…are you – damn give me a warning, won’t you?”
Namjoon looks up at you just in time to catch you looking away, not missing the motion of you biting your bottom lip. He smirks, whether you’re aware of it or not; this is payback. He had a hard time not thinking of you in those short pyjama pants for two days, and even though this was completely unintentional, it was worth your reaction.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Namjoon smiles innocently.
You shake your head, “Anyway…guess what.” He hears the excitement in your voice rather than see as you’ve stepped out of frame and then quickly back in with a bottle of water in hand. There’s a big bright smile on your lips and you seem to be bouncing a bit in place.
“Well someone’s excited.” Namjoon chuckles and you wave at him frantically, “Okay, okay. What?”
You pout, “It’s no fun if you don’t even attempt to guess, you know?”
“There’s like, so many possibilities of my guess being wrong.” Namjoon says and you sigh dramatically.
“Fine, I’ll tell you. Killjoy.” You roll your eyes, the action playful, “I’ll be in your area around this time next week.”
It takes a full minute for Namjoon to process and he almost drops the dumbbell on his foot, “Eh?”
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“Hyung…I don’t know what to do.” Namjoon whines, flopping back into the couch in Genius Lab. Seokjin pats his back as Yoongi swivels around in his chair to face him, plucking his headphones out his ears.
“That’s a good thing.” Yoongi says, standing to stretch with a groan, “But also…don’t think about it too much. Overthinking doesn’t do you any good.”
Seokjin sighs, shaking his head, “I think it’s good that she’s coming here. It’s a good way to connect, you know?”
“I know, but…”
“It’s different here, right?” Yoongi supplies, sitting back into his chair but he doesn’t turn away, “Feels like you have to run around in secret. And on top of that she isn’t in ‘our circle’, things can get overwhelming for both of you, especially her.”
Yoongi is right, as he usually was. The last thing he wanted was to have his life and the circumstances of it be too much for you to take. Namjoon told the guys about you once or twice, just in case things between you both became more serious than it is now, he didn’t want them out of the loop and have to explain later.
“I don’t want that to get in the way of a relationship should it happen…” Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.
“Alright Joonie, Hyung is gonna explain something so listen carefully.” Seokjin lays a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder and Yoongi makes a face at the tone he uses.
“Why do you sound like you’re gonna talk to him about safe sex?”
Seokjin ignores Yoongi, turning Namjoon to face him with his other hand on the other shoulder, looking serious. “Namjoon. You’re more than your celebrity status. You’re a person with feelings and desires, just like anyone else. If you like this girl, don’t let fame be a barrier. If things get hard, do what all the other adults do; sit and talk about it.”
Namjoon nods, “Right. You’re right. Thank you, Hyung.”
“Now, imagine if I wasn’t here to look after you guys.” Seokjin pats Namjoon’s shoulder, one of his rare deep chuckles filling the brief silence. “Just take her to see all the good places, have fun and you can worry about the rest after.”
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It’s a day after you arrive in Korea that Namjoon sees you.
He’s meeting you a block away from the place you’re renting for the two weeks you’ll be here. There’s a slight chill in the air as the tail-end of summer pulls the beginning of autumn, and you’ve unintentionally matched him with your dark clothes and hat. You both had been texting the night before and Namjoon promised to take you somewhere nice while you were free.
“Hi!” your greeting is cheerful, and Namjoon returns it, smiling.
“Settling in okay?” Namjoon asks as he pulls off the curb.
He is determined to make the most of every moment you both spent together, showing you all his favourite spots. You both wandered through bustling markets, sampled street food, and visited historic temples.
When the sun painted the sky with lilac and indigo and the moon chased it away, Namjoon parked his car in the carpark of an observatory. The observatory is closed of course, but there’s an event that Namjoon booked tickets for the moment he saw it. You expressed your love for the cosmos many times before, and Namjoon was more than willing to indulge you. At times he would sit and listen to you ramble on for ages, telling him any and everything.
He flashes you a dimpled smile, making sure his black mask and hat were secured before leading you to the park located at the back of the observatory. The park was a large space with sparse trees and shrubbery dotting the field, the trees are wrapped in fairy lights, which are usually on at night time but are off to allow the best view of the night sky. There are winding paths of gravel that goes every which way, and Namjoon picks the one where less people linger, leading you down it with your hand in his.
He leads you through the winding trails and the other people here for the event until he finds a clear spot where you both can sit comfortably without disturbance.
It’s a clear night, the stars twinkling in the sky above. It’s quiet between you for a moment, where you watch the sky and he’s looking at you. His heart pounds in his ears and he doesn’t know what else to do but look away when you suddenly turn.
“What?” You laugh, leaning slightly to nudge his shoulder with yours.
Namjoon laughs softly, knowing he’s definitely been caught and shakes his head, “Nothing.”
You sigh softly, wrapping your arm around his and leaning your head on his shoulder. He wonders how you both seem to people that may glance a little longer, perhaps like a pair of lovers simply enjoying the night in each other’s company.
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Namjoon enters the code for his apartment door, the beep and the sound of the door unlocking is loud in the quiet hallway. He lets you enter first, sliding you a pair of house slippers before he leads you further in.
“Ah, don’t mind the mess...it’s not usually like this...” Namjoon scratches his cheek, eyes caught on the mess that is his coffee table. There’re wads of balled up paper strewn about it, lyrics he started and decided there was nothing he could do with them, his journal left open and his little green cactus pen abandoned. A stack of books on the floor that’s yet to be read.
He quickly walks over to tidy it, picking up the stray pieces of paper.
“Don’t worry about it,” You say, and Namjoon realises you’re not even paying mind to it. Attention fully stolen by the various art pieces he has hung on walls and settled into corners.
The living room of his apartment is large, and in an attempt to make it look less empty, it’s his usual place to put whatever catches his eye. Most of them are paintings, canvases filled with colours and scenery, a book shelf that holds none, instead, a display for finely crafted pottery, potted house plants and a tiny brass horse Taehyung gifted him some time ago. There are picture frames of his family, the boys and other abstract things he took himself filling the emptier spaces on the shelf.
Glass pane windows take up most of the wall on the other side of the room, giving a beautiful view of Hannam in all its glittering glory.
Namjoon makes his way into the kitchen, paper balls clutched in his hands and he asks if you want anything. You’ve wandered over to the shelf, looking at all the different pieces, telling him that water would be fine.
“These are really pretty,” you say, turning to him with genuine admiration. “Are all of them authentic?”
“Some of them are.” He says, getting a glass from his cupboard, and then quietly: “Most of those are from small local ceramists, some of them from charity auctions and things like that.”
There’s something surreal in having you a room away, and not making jokes with him through a phone screen. Namjoon finds himself a little at a loss, a lot clumsier than usual as he knocks his shin against the leg of an island stool. There’s a searing heat that climbs its way from the collar of his shirt to flush the skin of his neck and ears.
He sees the smile that curls the corner of your mouth when you glance at him, “Are you okay?”
Namjoon nudges the stool closer to the lip of the island counter – glaring at it as though it walked into his path just to spite him; he forgot it out this morning, it’s his fault really – and nods. “I’m good.”
He reaches you in three strides, passing you the glass of chilled water. You take small sips of it, and Namjoon tracks the motion of your throat as you swallow.
He gives you a little tour, telling you about the art and any little thing you ask after. Namjoon’s thrilled to share this part of his life with you.
When it got a little later, Namjoon stands in the kitchen, watching water boil because it’s the only thing you let him do. He feels a little embarrassed as you stand somewhere behind him, donned in an apron he barely uses. He’d suggested ordering in and in very you fashion, you’d asked when was the last time he had a home cooked meal. Honestly, it was a while ago, when he visited home.
You’d shook your head, listing the times he would call you while he was eating dinner and you eating breakfast and it would always be some sort of take-out.
You gracefully allow him to crack the pasta and put it in the pot, but that was the most of it.
“I won’t be explaining to anyone how you hurt yourself in here.” You say, lowering the heat under steaming tomato sauce. You’re making pasta, he thinks, as you’ve told him that your knowledge on Korean cuisine isn’t enough for you to try your hand at it.
“You wouldn’t have to, I hurt myself all the time.” Namjoon chuckles, “Can I at least help you cut those?” he motions at the small bowl of washed onions, not waiting for an answer, he pulls a knife from the holder at the corner of the island. He knows how to hold a knife without too much trouble, at least.
As you skilfully prepare dinner, the conversation between you both flow naturally. Talking about whatever comes to mind, anything and everything and laughing over stories. You both settle to eat afterwards, and Namjoon can’t stop singing your praises, he’d go halfway to say that you cook better than Seokjin…Maybe he’s just biassed.
After Namjoon washed the dishes – he swore he wouldn’t let you do anything more – you both took your drinks of bottled beers to the living room. Sitting on the couch, and a movie playing on the mounted tv that neither of you pay attention to, far too engrossed in talking to each other; the well of topics never seems to run dry. Namjoon thinks that’s nice, there’s always something to talk about with you, even if you’re just telling him workplace gossip from two weeks ago, or rambling on about a shell you found on a beach when you were nine.
“Oh shoot-” You turn your wrist to look at your watch, the glass face catching the overhead lights. You squint at the time, something Namjoon once made fun of you for, because who has analogue watches anymore? He doesn’t find it in him to laugh at you now though, as the realisation dawns on him before you can say: “It’s really late…”
He checks his own watch without much reason – thirty minutes past midnight – and he frowns, he’s kept you way later than he intended. “Shit yeah, my bad. Sorry I kept you.”
You wave a hand, smiling at him, “No, it’s okay!” You place the half empty bottle of beer on the little black coaster on the coffee table. You stare out at the city for a quiet moment, “How hard is it to catch a taxi from here?” you ask, and then, quietly to yourself: “Maybe I should call an uber…”
It takes Namjoon a fraction of a second for his mind to fumble, trying to grasp at the words uselessly before they tumble out into the air. His mouth moves faster, though, “Or you could just stay here?”
He blinks at you and you blink back, the words hanging in the air long enough that Namjoon wishes that the floor would open up and swallow him, never to spit him out again. He stumbles with his words, dropping them as though the gears of his mind are grinding to a halt, coating in rust. “Um-If th…uh…you don…”
Then, you smile, your cheeks squishing your eyes. “Only if that’s okay.”
“More than.” Namjoon can’t help his smile back; grateful you didn’t mention him tripping over himself. “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”
Twenty minutes later, Namjoon is digging through his drawers for something for you to wear for the night, the blush that had flushed his cheeks earlier had returned with a vengeance as he thought about the fact that you’re staying the night and would be wearing his clothes. He’s still beside himself, not too sure what to do, because this is so far beyond the two of you being friends and talking through calls and texts.
He settles on a long-sleeved tee shirt and black sweatpants and meets you back in the living room, where you stand at the window watching the lights twinkle down below and in the distance. When he announces his return, you turn, looking a little worried and Namjoon once again wonders if he’s crossed a line somewhere. You smile softly, taking the bundle of clothes from his arms.
“Thank you…” You say, and then, softer: “Are you sure it’s okay?”
Namjoon plants his hands on your shoulder, squeezing gently before he leads you back the way he came, following your steps closely with his own. He stops you right outside the bathroom door, “Yes, I’m sure.”
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Namjoon lays awake in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. You’re sleeping in the room across from him, well, he assumes you’re asleep by now. The clock at his bedside blinks sleepily, but Namjoon finds it hard to let his mind settle.
When you’d come out of the bathroom earlier, a little over thirty minutes ago, you were practically drowning in his clothes. You’d rolled the legs of the pants a few times but it still swam around your ankles and the tee was at least three times your size.
It’s not like he hasn’t seen you in oversized clothing before. It’s simply the fact that it’s his. It’s been a good few months since he’s met you in that cafe, and a good few weeks since he’s realised he liked you.
It may have happened when you went off on one of your many rambles about something or the other. He’s not quite certain. After spending the entire day with you, Namjoon likes you in his space. Not once have you given him the need to run in the opposite direction, not once have you broken his trust.
Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, kicking his feet under the blanket. Making up his mind, he gets out of bed and marches confidently to his door. He pulls it open and the edge of the door hits his toe. He stands for a moment, with his eyes closed, brows furrowed in pain and a hand over his mouth keeping the pained yelp trapped. “...Ow.”
He takes the five steps across the hallway, raises a hand to knock, takes a breath and turns on his heel. He walks a little ways up the hall.
“Okay. C’mon, it’s not that hard.” He mutters to himself, and then looks back at the door, “This is very hard.”
He’s not sure. He’s sure of himself, and his feelings, but...what if you’re not in the same place he is?
“Joon?” You poke your head out the door, and Namjoon startles. “You good?”
You didn’t look like you went to sleep and he woke you up, though your hair is a bit tousled and Namjoon would like to hope that you’d been just as restless as he was.
“Yeah...”
You give him a look that says you aren’t too convinced, “I heard a thud.”
“Oh...” The ache in his toe rings with a dull echo, and he looks down at his feet and then back at you, “Door...I jammed it against my toe.”
Your eyes flicker downward, and even in the dimly lit hallway he could see your amusement. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, happens all the time.”
“I’m concerned at the fact that you think accidentally hurting yourself this often is normal.” You laugh and Namjoon makes his way over to you but stops short and stares up at the ceiling. You’ve ditched the pants he gave you.
“What are we looking at?”
He glances at you and you’re also looking at the ceiling.
“You’re not wearing pants.”
You must’ve caught yourself, because there’s a soft gasp and the shuffling of your feet. When Namjoon brings his gaze back down you’re peeking at him from behind the door.
“Sorry!” You squeak out, “Sleeping in long pants is uncomfy.”
“It’s okay, I sleep naked sometimes so...” Namjoon couldn’t stop the words before they hit the air, and for a moment they simply hang there as you both stare at each other.
“Not that you should sleep naked...I mean – you can if you want to, really, doesn’t bug me at all...” He’s really trying to reign it in here. “There’s nothing wrong with sleeping like that. As long as you’re comfortable!”
“Relax,” You laugh, sticking your hand out through the gap in the door and the frame to wave him down, “I’m not sleeping naked. I get cold fast.”
“There’s a solution for that.” Another pause, and Namjoon realises how his words sounded as you raise a brow at him, “The heater. There’s a heater in there. I wasn’t suggesting that I could...”
Namjoon sighs, he really does put his foot right in his mouth. So he does what’s best for everyone and just closes it.
Just when he was beginning to think that this moment would be at the top of his 'Awkward situations you’ve created' list, the gap widens just a bit and there’s something shy about your small smile and the way your eyes stay glued to the floor.
“I wouldn’t mind...” Your words are soft and Namjoon wonders for a moment if he misheard. This is the most shy he’s seen you in a while, looking up at him through your eyelashes, fingers caught in the hem of your borrowed tee-shirt; wringing the life out of the piece you hold.
“Yeah?” His voice is equally as soft, giving you room to change your mind if you so wished. You nod mutely and Namjoon gives you a second more to think carefully, only stepping forward when you step back and pull the door with you.
You leave the door open a crack, so that the light from the hallway bleeds into the darkness, and Namjoon watches as you walk over to the bed and crawl under the blankets.
There really isn’t much to this room, equipped with the essentials and a few nick-knacks and a bookshelf he’d put his other books on because there was no space on his other ones. There was a landscape painting hanging above the headboard, something he put there to give the room a bit more personality.
You’re peeking at him from the blankets, the soft mounds of material hiding most of your face from view. It’s a lot cooler here than his room, though the floor is cold under his bare feet and he briefly wondered if you need socks.
He walks soundlessly over and out of habit, he’s already pulling his tee-shirt over his head but pauses when it hangs on the length of his arms. “Shit – sorry.” He pokes his head back through the neck of the tee, “I run hot so I don’t usually sleep with a shirt on.”
“Is that why you sleep naked, too?”
Namjoon is grateful for the dark as heat runs up his neck. He takes it in stride, though, “Yeah. Clothes are constricting sometimes.”
There’s something else in your voice when you giggle, and there’s a shifting of the blankets. “You can keep it off if you want.”
Namjoon hums, “Are you okay with that?”
“As long as you’re comfortable.”
“Your comfort matters, too.” It’s not as though you hadn’t seen him without a shirt before; you shaded video calls during his workout sessions. Even though most of those are spent with you trying not to look at him – Namjoon’s caught you staring more times than he could count. This is different, though, he reminds himself; you’re no longer oceans away.
“I’m comfortable with it.”
“Okay.” Namjoon pulls his shirt off and folds it neatly, placing it on the nightstand before he climbs into bed next to you.
His side of the bed is cold, but he could feel your warmth just inches away. He turns to face you, lying on his side, finding your eyes in the dark.
“Hi.” You’re already facing him and in the darkness, Namjoon smiles.
“Hi.”
Your toes brush his under the covers and Namjoon hisses softly, “Are you cold?”
“A little...”
“Want me to get closer?” Namjoon whispers, and to his surprise, you move over first.
There’s a slight chill to your skin as you settle, resting your head where Namjoon extended his arm and then, close enough that your legs tangle with his and the ghost of your breath tickles his chest. You smell like him, like watermelon and mint; He’s once again grateful for the darkness.
Namjoon lets his other arm rest in the dip where the softness of your stomach meets your waist. It’s quiet when you both stop shuffling about, and your breaths are a tad nervous on the inhale.
“Okay?” Namjoon tries his best not to disturb the quiet, speaking softly. He feels you nod, and a slow flow of warm air as you sigh.
“You’re really warm.”
Namjoon chuckles, and silently, holds you tighter. He lets his chin rest on the top of your head, your hair tickles his nose. It smells faintly of his shampoo – he’s never loved it more. He wants to stay there forever, wrapped in the sweet, gentle scent of honeysuckle, melon and something uniquely you.
Namjoon wonders – and he knows, there’s no point in dwelling on the thought – what would’ve happened if he’d walked out of the cafe that day. Held captive by his responsibilities and his duty to keep his group and their image as spotless as possible. It would’ve been different had you not been the way you are.
He calls your name softly, and he wonders if you can feel the rapid pace of his heart beneath the warmth of your palm. It kicks against his sternum like he’s been running, and he takes a breath. There’s something unspoken here, in this darkened room where only the walls are listening.
Somewhere along the way, during the days that dragged the weeks into months – somewhere – a line was blurred.
Sleep wraps around your tired hum like a warm blanket, the sound of the sheets shifting further shattering the quiet as you lean back a little to look at him.
He lets his hand find the warmth of your cheek, moving until his thumb is resting against the front of your ear and his fingers are nestled in the softness of your hair.
“Wanna ask you something.” He says.
“What’s it?”
Distractedly, Namjoon’s fingers rub tentative circles in your scalp and catches the way your eyes flutter at the feeling.
He smiles when your eyes open and meet his, with the dark he grows confident, and softly: “Can I kiss you?”
His words hang in the air, heavy with desire and affection. In that moment, the weight of his request carries with it a profound realisation.
It’s not just a simple act of physical connection he seeks, but rather a deeper, more profound expression of love. His request bears the weight of all the emotions, vulnerabilities, and hopes he has placed upon this relationship.
The answer now rests in your hands, and Namjoon waits with bated breath for your response.
“Please.” Your answer dances between you both, and Namjoon angles your head upward slightly, and closes the gap with a tentative kiss. Your lips are soft and taste of mint when he runs his tongue along the seam of your mouth. He doesn’t ask for much more, gentle in the way that he pulls you closer, fingers tangling in the soft hair at your nape.
In this moment, there is no need for words. The brush of your skin against his, the sweet taste of your kiss, and the way your bodies gravitate towards each other speak volumes.
Namjoon cherishes every second, every breath shared, as he grows more intoxicated by you.
His heart pounding in his chest, all thoughts of caution and restraint fade away. Giving in completely to his desire and lust, he pulls you close, not wanting this moment to end. The kiss is now an embrace, with both of you giving in fully.
His lips caress yours, his touch slowly becoming more and more intimate. His tongue finds yours, and Namjoon swallows the sound you make.
He breaks the kiss for a moment, you both take in a deep breath. It’s like everything around you becomes blurred, with only the two of you visible.
He runs his hands through your hair, looking into your eyes. He draws closer again, resting his forehead against yours.
He’s quiet, still for a moment, simply watching you in the dark. Your fingers tap softly against his chest, confusion and worry sit on the furrow of your brow.
“What wrong?”
Namjoon sighs, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, your eyes each and then your forehead where he lingers. “It’s nothing... it’s just...”
“I want you to understand...” He continues softly after a breath, “My life can be overwhelming, it’s hard even for me some days. There’s times when I feel like I’ve worked hard only to get myself trapped in a bottle. Dangling above the view of millions who think I should live my life their way.
It isn’t easy. There’s always a risk that maybe one of us would slip up or something else. Privacy is something hard won and I’d hate for anything to happen that puts you in a position that you’ll regret.”
Namjoon lays his worries bare like cards going all in, focusing on the texture of your hair between his fingers. He allows you a moment to absorb his words, to really think.
The life of an idol isn’t for everyone; so many have cracked under the pressure of it. The life of an idol’s partner does not come any easier. Your relationship would be kept buried like a dirty secret to feed into the delusions of a certain variety of ‘fans’, all for the safety of the people involved.
If by some miracle, or a stroke of good luck, you choose to continue onward despite the challenges it would bring, Namjoon would be eternally grateful and he would spend his days making sure you never regret that choice.
“Joon...” Your hand meets his wrist, curling at his pulse. “I’ve known from the beginning what it would be like. You’ve got fans all over the world who adore you, and who would do just about anything to get close to you. It’s not easy to live a life like that, to be constantly watched and judged.
“But I knew that going in,” you continue. “I may not have expected to fall in love with you, but now that it’s happened, nothing else matters. I know what it’s like to have eyes always on you, and I’m willing to do anything to make it work.”
“You...you love me?” Namjoon's mind feels as though it blanked, though somewhere in the back among the cogs grinding to a halt your words have registered. Right now, he could only tunnel focus on that one thing.
“Oh god.” There’s a smile blooming on Namjoon’s lips as you groan an embarrassed sound, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. He laughs softly, leaning back to catch your gaze but you evade him, bringing your hands up to cover your face instead.
Namjoon briefly wonders if this is what a moon orbiting a planet feels like. Ganymede does not question the gravity of Jupiter. It simply orbits the planet, accepting its fate. And Namjoon accepts his fate of being drawn to you. He is not swept up by your presence, but rather firmly grounded, and held in place. His feelings for you are as natural as the pull of gravity, as certain as the rotation of the Earth.
In your presence, everything shifts, and nothing else becomes important. Your gravity becomes his universe, and he is perfectly content to reside in it.
“I love you too.”
You peek at him through your fingers, and Namjoon doesn’t let the moment pass, prying your hands gently away from your face. He leans closer and presses a kiss to your lips, there’s nothing gentle about it this time – all teeth and tongue and quiet sounds that Namjoon swallows. He eases you onto your back with a gentle hand, slotting himself between your legs.
He trails his kisses down your neck, catching the skin with his teeth and sucking to leave his mark. He trails his hand down the length of your thigh, over the band of your underwear and under the soft cotton tee-shirt. He brushes his fingers along the curve of your hip, feeling the warmth of your skin and the way you tremble beneath his touch. He travels further still, up your ribcage to your breasts, feeling the soft curves and the way your nipples harden beneath his caress.
He feels the goosebumps that erupted at his touch, feels the hitch of your breath in your chest. Namjoon sucks a mark against your collarbone, he shifts so that he’s at your side, giving his hand more room.
He traces feather light touches along the expanse of your stomach and you giggle into his kiss. His fingers glide just above the waistband of your underwear, teasing until you whine his name.
Namjoon chuckles as he pulls away, “Can I?”
Words seem like more than you can manage and you nod. Namjoon gives a fleeting kiss, as his fingers dip lower, pushing aside your underwear to find your heat. The arousal clinging to your panties cools rapidly against the back of his hand, and Namjoon dips a finger into the warmth of you.
He keeps his eyes on your face as he does, watching the way your eyebrows furrow and your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth. He nudges his nose against your cheek and runs his tongue along the shell of your ear. He’s barely touching you, keeping his fingers just shy of where he knows you want them the most.
It’s a while of teasing you this way, and Namjoon likes the way frustration bleeds into your soft, breathless moans when he circles your clit with his slick fingers and pulls away. He gives your neck and chest most of his attention, with gentle squeezes and his tongue tracing abstract patterns, drawing your nipples into his mouth with soft tugs of his teeth.
When the next whine of his name comes with teary eyes, Namjoon takes pity on you. The wet, tightness of you makes him groan and he pulls a hissing breath through his teeth, pressing his erection against your hip where he ruts in sync with the movement of his fingers.
He curls them upward, your back bows and he presses the heel of his palm against your clit. He kisses your cheek when your fingers wrap around his wrist, “I got you, baby.”
You gasp, your pleasure mounting until you can’t take it anymore. You writhe beneath his touch as you reach the peak of pleasure, calling out his name as you fall over the edge.
Namjoon gives you a moment to breathe, running his hand along your thighs and tummy. He takes your face in his hands once your breaths evened out, pressing his forehead to yours and breathing in your scent. His lips find yours in a gentle, yet passionate kiss that leaves you both breathless.
“Good?”
“Fuck – yeah.” Your fingers tug at his hair and Namjoon groans.
“Want me to go on?” He asks softly, pressing a kiss to your temple and then, almost jumps right out of his skin when your other hand squeezes at his cock in his sweats. He lets out a chuckle that gets muddled by a moan that rumbles in his chest. “Baby.”
Namjoon sees the smile that curls in your lips, the innocent way you blink at him. You hum softly when he mouths at your jaw, a shudder runs through him and he can’t stop himself chasing the friction with a buck of his hips.
“You wan’it?” Namjoon’s drunk on you and you’ve barely done anything. You’re tugging at the drawstring of his sweatpants, and he groans, letting his forehead rest against your chest when your hand wraps around his cock and tugs upward. “Ah, Fuck.”
He feels your hand against his chest and lies back when you push gently. He watches as you tug his tee-shirt and your underwear off, and he quickly follows to take his sweats off.
He slides his hands up your thighs when you settle on his. A breath catches in his throat when you wrap both hands around the width of his cock. His fingers gripping where your thighs meet your hips, and he watches with heavy lidded eyes as you lean forward slightly and spit. The dollop of saliva lands deftly on the head of his cock and Namjoon’s eyes roll back as you focus there.
You’re twisting your wrists, the slick sound of it and Namjoon’s harsh breaths are the only sounds in the quiet room. When he feels his lower stomach clench he grabs your wrist and still your movement.
“Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think of literally anything else, “You’ll make me cum if you keep doing that.”
Your giggle rings like a bell and Namjoon smiles at the sound. Sitting up he pulls you forward, trapping his throbbing cock between his stomach and the heat of your cunt. He groans at how wet you are, blunt teeth nipping at your jaw. “Wanna ride it?” He breathes, “Hm? Wanna fuck me?”
He feels your nod, feels the shuddering breath you release against his hair. “Words, Princess.”
“Yeah, wanna fuck you.”
Namjoon helps you balance, guiding his cock – slick with your juices – to your entrance. He sucks on your tongue as you come down slowly, and Namjoon swears he’s seeing the pearly gates behind his tightly shut eyes when your walls flutter.
He lies back, giving you a moment and short, shallow thrusts. You look so beautiful above him, your hair a rumpled mess, throat and chest covered in bruises of his own making. He gives a single thrust, a hand sliding up your sweat slicked skin to palm at your breast, his other hand landing a harsh slap against your ass.
You squeak out a moan and Namjoon chuckles, doing it again, “C’mon, baby girl. Fuck me.”
Your hands press against his tummy, hips rising slowly and coming back down. He lets you set the pace, content to lie back and take what you give. He could feel your arousal dripping down his shaft, and Namjoon tightens his grip on your hips.
He plants his feet flat on the bed, meeting you halfway with his thrusts. He pulls you down with a hand behind your neck, when your chest meets his he wraps his other arm around your waist and sets a brutal pace.
“Feels so fucking good.” Namjoon groans, “Pussy’s so good—fuck.”
You’re moaning right in his ear, whining, breathless sounds that makes him fuck you harder. Without warning, your thighs squeeze at his sides and you tremble above him. Your orgasm pools in his groin in a gush of warmth, your moans pitching an octave with his name and Namjoon swears, fucking you through it.
“That’s it, baby. Good girl.” Namjoon groans, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He slows his thrusts and gently eases you off him, he settles behind you when you’re on your stomach, lifting your hips to meet his.
Your moans are muffled by the sheets when he thrusts forward. He holds you steady with a hand gripping your waist and the other on the back of your neck. He focuses his thrusts on the spot that makes your walls tighten and drip.
He looks down to watch his cock disappear inside you, and the way your ass jiggles from the force of his thrusts. “Fuc—M’gonna cum. Where you want it?”
You meet his thrusts halfway, “Inside.”
“You sure?” Namjoon pants, slowing down just a bit.
“Yeah—wanna feel you. Please, daddy.”
Lightning shoots down his spine, curses in his mother tongue trapped behind his teeth as he spills his release inside you. He holds you pressed against him, balls deep, moaning at every throb of his cock.
He pulls you closer when he lays down, peppering kisses all over your face and wherever he could reach. When you’ve both caught your breaths, you finally speak, chin propped on your hand on his chest.
“Daddy, huh? That does it for you?” You’re giggling and Namjoon throws an arm over his eyes, groaning.
“Shut up.” He can’t help his smile, “You’re the one who said it, so I think it’s the other way around actually.”
“We’re both gonna lose if we go there.”
A half hour later, after the sheets in the guest bedroom were stripped and you and him are settled for the night in his room, Namjoon wouldn’t change a thing if he had the power to. He’d go into that cafe and sit at your table every time.
Ganymede has no choice in the matter, he would orbit Jupiter as long as she allows it.
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hollyhomburg · 7 days
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Before I Leave You (Pt.68)
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(Sneak Peek) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)
Summary: Your time is running out. minute by minute, breath by breath, kiss by kiss.
Tags: Angst, Hurt (no comfort yet), illusions to past mental health issues and past domestic abuse, mentions of low-self-esteem, internalized shame and self-shaming behaviors, themes of abandonment, speeding, guns, violence,
W/c: 12.4k
A/N: ahhhhh so here we are! i've been dreaming of this chapter since the very beginning of the series! this is like...the ultimate chapter...thank you for giving me a little bit of extra time to sit with it! we've still got a bit to go! fun fact that is actually my hand writing in the note in the moodboard....i couldn't find a pic of something i liked so i made it myself!
Previous part - Masterlist - First part
Chapter 68: Before I Leave you (Sneak peak)
You look striking in the half darkness, a pair of Yoongi’s green flannel pajama pants rolled up several times to fit properly around your hips. A thin white tank top that's almost falling down one shoulder. Namjoon’s heart pulses dully with the need to hold, the need to protect. He makes a soft noise in his throat and your head jerks in his direction.
You swallow, and your lips look dry, eyes glassy and innocent in their tilt when your mussed hair fluffs over your shoulder. Messy from where Hobi was nuzzling it in his sleep.
“I was just getting a glass of water.”
Namjoon wordlessly holds his hand out to help you get out of the nest without teetering or disturbing the others. Noodle dashes back down the stairs with a soft meow.  Tae sighs and re-settles, smacking her lips and Jimin’s arm tightens. Your mate turns face up in the nest, chest rising and falling, mouth opening like he can taste your scent on the air.
Namjoon doesn't doubt he can, honed in on you and focused as he always is.
Namjoon doesn’t let go of your hand when your feet find the smooth floor. Checking the wounds on your hands and verifying that they’re clotting, the margins slotted together properly for minimal scarring (he'd redone the glue-suture after your shower with minimal scolding). He stoops and presses a gentle kiss to the bandages after they are re-fastened. Letting his lips linger there for a second.
Namjoon has always had big hands, warm and steadying as they cradle yours. Small and chapped and scared.
Instead of continuing on downstairs, you linger for a second by Namjoon’s side. Eating up every word he says, his scent, and the comfort of having him nearby. Something you know you won’t have forever. (Somehow- you know that this will be the last time that Namjoon holds you. You can wait one minute more. you can give him one more minute) He sets the gun to the side and pulls you between his legs.
“Joonie?” You ask. Your pack alpha wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles forward, rubbing his spiky head across your midriff. Nose nudging the dimple of your belly button and the slight pudge there. 
Namjoon will never not be happy that he can see the evidence of the pack’s love on you. Will never not feel proud of you. He nuzzles, and you huff a soft laugh that Namjoon feels against his cheek. Your warm soft skin swelling with laughter. Namjoon’s face is blushing red when he pulls back to look at you in the darkness. Corralled in the safe circle of his arms, fingers digging into your hips and squeezing.
“What are you doing alpha?” 
“Just thinking- just-” Namjoon’s voice gets so much lower in the nighttime, it's a gravely growl. A sound that paints pictures of lightning and clouds hovering low like a blanket.
“When all of this is over, I want to go somewhere new.” Namjoon's hands tightening on your waist. “-With you. Just you. Just the two of us. Maybe.” Namjoon fights back a fresh blush at the confused cock of your head. “maybe- like- a fancy Airbnb? or something? Wouldn't that be fun? Would you like that?” 
You pause, humming. Indulging Namjoon in this as he holds you loosely around your hips, fingers rubbing endlessly up and down the sensitive small of your back. Eyes wide and emploring like a child.
You're only too happy to forget for a second and imagine. What would happen if you didn’t leave tonight? What would happen if you found some way out of this- and imagine if you actually got your happily ever after. Just like in the movies.
But glass slippers cut. Dresses are rented not owned. Good dreams have the power to hurt- even when they’re good.
It’s easy to go further than just thinking about a simple weekend. You Imagine far into the future; a day that you'll never see. A future with Namjoon and the pack. 
Namjoon would be a good father. 
He’d be kind and patient. He’d never snap. He’d never yell. For a moment that’s all you want to think about- not a stupid weekend but a lifetime. A family. A world where you’re never yelled at, where you don't have to be afraid, where nothing is hard and even if it’s hard you do it together. Where you just get to live.
If you had pups, you know Namjoon would treat every skinned knee like it was surgery. Would never tell them to walk it off or say it wasn’t that bad. You know that he’d go through every tea party with gusto and stay up late to help them with their homework. That he’d struggle to say no but that you might never need to. It would be lovely- getting to give something small and innocent so much safety. It would be nice to have pups with Namjoon.
You can’t say you don’t want it, but you know in that moment that you won't get it. You'll never get to see Namjoon be a father- even if the pups aren't yours or are just his and Jin's. You’d love them all the same. What use is it to Imagine things that you’ll never get? What good are dreams like this but to tease you, just out of reach? 
Namjoon nuzzles into your stomach again. His nose drawing soft circles just under your belly button.
You’d be a shit mother anyway. Too fragile. Too nervous. Too hurt. Too much of everything. You'd fuck them up just by being you. you'd fuck them up the same way you've fucked up this perfectly good pack. You've brought nothing but destruction upon them. The evidence of you is everywhere. The bullets in the ceiling, the blown apart door. Your hands and Hobi's throat. All of this is because of you.
You snap back to the present, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You’re gnawing at your own leg to survive. All things that bite cannot resist it. What good does hope do at the end other than to hurt?
Still- you can't resist asking Namjoon, curled around you like a protective barrier to keep out all the worlds hurts (or to keep you in)
“If we went? Where would we go? If we made it- What would it be like Joonie?”
Coming Saturday March 23rd at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)
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bangguks · 2 years
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Right in front of his juice 🤡
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hoseoksluna · 2 months
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STORY | knj
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pairing: soft dom!namjoon x reader
genre: smut
word count: 7.8k
summary: yours and namjoon’s story is a bit more perverted than traditional.
warnings: serious big dick namjoon, rough touches, hair pulling, use of pet names and titles, dom/sub dynamics, horny namjoon can't help but palm himself:(, desperation, masturbation, spanking, praising, tit slapping, nipple play, teasing, oc and namjoon not being comfortable with certain practices, playful orgasm denial, oral sex (m. and f. receiving), rimming && ass play :3, cum eating yum yum, tit fucking, orgasm countdown fuck
note: smut is so fucking difficult to write but i loved every second of it. i love writing about namjoon, he just makes me feel so safe. this is purely my fantasy with him and i'll probably dream about this for a long, long time. please, take your time reading this as it's pretty long. i hope you enjoy it and that it makes you dream like it made me dream. as always, let me know what you think in the comments, like the post and if you want to—reblog, but i won't pressure you angels <3. love you guys so much, thank you for all the love. kisses!
side note: i miss namjoon and i wish he were here. all i can do is watch his lives and pretend he never left for the military.
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Namjoon makes himself comfortable on the wooden chair before you.
The scene is set. Like a mermaid bathing in the sun, you rest your elbows on the cold rim of the ivory bathtub. Small surges of violet-tinted water, perfumed with your scent, blanket your body in a thin layer of glittery sheen. They kiss the tiger stripes along the curve of your bottom as it rolls over, passing by the dip in the small of your waist, breathing in your patchouli fragrance in greeting. The bath bomb, cornered by your knees, sizzles and spins, the width of the tub allowing your form to float like a little fish in the open sea as copiously as you please.
A gift from your loving boyfriend. Both the clawfoot, and the bath bomb.
The scene expands. Your Eric slouches in his seat, balancing his greatest and most stellar possession on top of his lap with one hand while he runs the other through his silver mane. He fits perfectly in the picturesqueness of the background. Soft orange and chocolate tiles zig zag behind his back, transposing him momentarily into a sunlit illustration, where he rests in the shade of a palm tree on a faraway beach. Reads the book to pass the time as he waits for you to emerge from the waters. Sets it down on his lap as soon as his gaze catches yours. Periwinkle clams for a bra, panties thin and translucent from the oncoming waves, you rest your front on the sand. He smiles down at you and you know for a fact you won’t be able to get on your feet. Might have to learn how to walk, too.
You keep this picture in your heart. Mentally, you rip out the page. Fold it and tuck it somewhere within you to keep it safe.
Legs outstretched by the sides of the tub, clad in slacks in the muted color of a persimmon, it’s almost as though you’re propped on his lap. Sporting a simple white button-down, sleeves rolled, you’re close enough to touch the material if you so much as wished so. From his angle, Namjoon sees nothing but the roundness of your eyes through the brownish rims of his glasses, hair unkempt in their dampness as the short paper thin layers frame your flushed face in such a celestial way. If he were to lean over, it’d be a different kind of book.
The one in the clasp of his hand isn’t a tale as old as time.
It’s one of your favorites. An existential story that ridicules the traditional. A transfusion of liveness to a certain forgotten room of your heart. The unlit one while the others brim with sunlight, with the golden sepia projection of the contents of the fairytales you love so much made into stop motion. A coloring book of some sort, hues fitting into the lines by your helping hand—the attention of your eyes. 
Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. The book that sweeps away all those cobwebs in that chamber. Makes it less lonely.
It’s all you had talked about on your dates when you and Namjoon first started dating, having been reading it at the time. You had confided in him that the writer was the only person who understood you without ever learning your name, without familiarizing himself with the subtleties of your calamitous life.
No one has ever shared something so vulnerable with him, especially not on the first date. Not that he’d gone on many, but the few that fell into his grasp were hell to get through. Insufferable, to say the least. Absolutely superficial.
He went home in the rain thinking of you. Not for boyish reasons. But for reasons of literary character, of melancholy nature that squeezed his long-unexpressed heart in perpetuating intervals too consistent for his liking. Filled it with a nectar bubbling with a newly blooming love for books, with a sudden longing to be found within the words. His body decided for him that it was yours. Yours to teach again how to read between the lines.
The scene breaks out of the margins on the page.
“Is the water warm enough?”
The idea constructed by his own geniality, it’s by his will that you’re basking in your bare femininity before his eyes. Idleness lingered in the living room between the pair of you, the flimsy curtain by your balcony lifting and falling in a little dance as the cold air perfused the place with the drowsiness of winter. Pulling his eyes away from the TV to sink a soft kiss into your hair, Namjoon muttered into your ear: “How about I draw you a bath and read to you for a little bit?”
You said nothing. The click of your phone turning off and your hasty movements to untangle yourself from the warmth of his limbs answered him for you. Leaving your clothes as a trail for him to follow, you gave him a glimpse of your ass, arched and pointed in the draft before you ran away. Before he scolded you with his index finger like a father, raising to his feet to close the balcony door.
In two seconds he joined you in the bathroom. Leaned against the doorframe as you circled a pink roll-on lip oil you’ve been obsessed with lately around the perimeters of your lips. The one that makes them look bigger, juicier. That makes them more fun to kiss and toy with. The one that leaves his length sticky once playtime is over. You seem to cast aside little trinkets of yourself for him to collect everywhere you go.
Tits pushed towards each other while you slightly bent over the vanity sink, tapping the excess into the fullness of your mouth, Namjoon palmed himself. The tiredness from work earlier weakened his self-control to the point of unrestrained indulgence. And the plumpness of your ass just encouraged it.
You fluffed your hair and Namjoon ran the bath. Disappeared into the kitchen for a moment to retrieve the purple bath bomb from the plastic bag on the counter, one that he got from the convenience store for you. Dragon fruit and hibiscus. Thought of the twinkle that would sparkle beneath your lashes upon seeing it. Wasn’t disappointed when you exceeded his expectations.
Having seen it in the mirror, almost microscopic and round in his big palm, you turned on your heel and burst into giddiness as he took off the plastic packaging with his teeth. You pouted in gratefulness when he showed it to you. 
“You planned this, didn’t you?”
You hugged him, locking your hands behind the nape of his neck. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, and he told you so. A bit hoarsely, though.
Namjoon struggled not to moan. Groaned a little when he felt the curvature of your belly against his hardness and the pointed nubs of your tits beneath his pecs. Managed to conceal it, thankfully, by clearing his throat and by allowing an authentic grin to bloom on his dimpled face at your joy. Thanked the heavens for all the bath bombs in the world.
He placed it in your much smaller palm for you to plop it into the increasing water. Watched your eyes widen at the gilded glitter spreading around. Spurred you to get in. Held your hand as you lifted one limb, then the other. Knelt by you as you engulfed yourself in the violet tinge, your hair swirling around you, silky and ethereal, coming to a stop at the top of your head to fix a splendid crown for such a princess like yourself.
Namjoon turned off the tap while you rested your back against the curved wall of the tub. You swooshed your hands around, gathering the glitter into the fine lines of your palms. Looked up at him in elation, the twinkle doing its thing in the glossiness of your eyes, and smiled. Namjoon smiled back at you. His hand reached out to your chest in a fervent need to touch you. The glitter adorned your chest with its perfect speckles and they resurfaced when you arched your back in response. Clung to his palm in the middle of your tits, held on tighter as he took a detour to your chin by brushing across your sensitive nipple to hear your little mewls because if he made a sound, then you must, too. Because if he was horny, he must get you on the same page as well. Fairness is very important to Namjoon.
He squeezed your breast hard. Pinched your nipple between his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger in broken intervals, similar to little dashed lines of Morse code. You imagined he was telling you something through that secret language as you closed your eyes during an intense wave of pleasure coursing down your body, and perhaps he truly did because he pulled your legs apart harshly when you pressed them together. Punished you by lightly slapping your tit—the same one he abused with those firm touches—the force splashing you in the face with violet pearls. All as if you disobeyed the command he transmitted wordlessly.
The command possibly being: Only I will give you the release you need when I decide it’s time.
You bit your bottom lip to suppress the neediness erupting in you. Namjoon wrapped his hand around your throat and you dragged his rolled sleeve further up his arm, so it wouldn’t have gotten soaked in the water. He smeared your lip oil just because he wanted—just because he could, scattering the rosy tint around your mouth messily. He took advantage of the aftermath of his punishment and collected those tender beads, now translucent upon your carmine skin. Not with the thumb as you expected him to, but using the pillows of his lips, he kissed the round bulb on your cheek. It melted on the puffy surface when he withdrew. He looked you in the eye for a mere beat of time before he lowered to your other cheek to collect another trinket. None of the corners of your mouth were overlooked, not even the button of your nose. He peppered those kisses to erase the harshness of his selfishness, supporting your lifted chin with his long thumb beneath it, still sticky from the consistency of the lip oil, apologizing, smoothing down his sternness until you giggled.
Once he cleaned you, Namjoon returned the digit to your smudged mouth, delicious in his sight due to the essence of sloppiness that gets his length even harder in his pants. He presses the pad against it, already craving your tongue. You kissed it, a thank you for his softness, before you granted him the access. Tongue toying with the tip, you said hello in the mother language of the love stored in your bodies for each other. Wrapped both of your hands around his wrist. Didn’t break eye contact. Smiled, teeth showing happily, when he bit his lip, but soon got distracted by a small movement on his groin area out of your view.
You peeled your back off of the tub to curiously take a peek, but Namjoon pushed you back to your place. All while his thumb remained sucked by your mouth. You frowned at him, dismayed by his recurring roughness that you weren’t used to.
Namjoon tapped your cheek twice with his fingers to let you know it was enough and rose to his feet.
“Joon, what’s going on? Why are you so rough with me?” you asked, voice tender, the question shooting arrows into the wideness of his back.
Stopping in the doorway, he hung his head, fingers coming to intertwine with the short hair above his neck. “I’m sorry, baby. Let me get the book.”
A moment later, he returned with the stellar possession in one hand and a wooden chair in the other. He slumped against it, fingers finding the first chapter unwittingly.
You swam forward as if to the shore, propping your elbows on the rim to be closer to him.
“Is the water warm enough?”
You nod, your teeth picking at the excess skin on your lips. Namjoon notices and, as if registering the reason why you put on the lip oil in the first place, he leans towards you and rubs away the smudginess he caused. As if the walk into your dining room sobered him enough from the dark wine of his lust that he now regretted his actions.
“You really scared me when you were rough,” you said calmly, unafraid to uncover your feelings, knowing you’ll be caught now that you’ve jumped head-first into the hungry sea of honesty.
He apologizes again. Repeats it in the aphonic form of a deep chaste kiss.
“Won’t do it again,” he promises. “Unless you ask me to.”
Your lips form a smile, but it quivers into a straight line just as quickly as it appeared. The yet unknown cause behind his untypical behavior troubles you.
“Did something happen today at work?”
Namjoon sighs. “No, I’m just tired.”
“Just tired or tired of your job?” you try, tilting your head to the side, remembering this isn’t the first time quiet broodiness clutched his figure when the clock struck five.
“Both.” He kneads the heel of his palm against his eye. 
Not expecting his honesty, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. It propels you to investigate further. Gives you the green light. Namjoon usually keeps to himself when it comes to work-related storms, holding respect that reaches the bottom of his heart for those above him and for his peers as well.
“Did someone make you upset?” you ask, paving your way in this inquiry to the realm of understanding so you can help him. At least in a small way.
He drops his hand, gazes up the ceiling to stare at a fixed point. Perhaps he’s looking for words, perhaps he’s avoiding the question altogether. The regret of your prying swallows you. You’re afraid you’ve overstepped a boundary. 
You reach out your arm, wrapping wet fingers around his wrist on his lap. The gesture says, ‘you don’t have to tell me but I’m here,’ and you squeeze the limb to emphasize that. As if he heard you, he looks down at you. His eyes that are usually narrowed into slits now round in tenderness. The swallowing lets go, the lump that threatened to obstruct your throat disappears.
“It’s Friday, Joonie, and you can forget about your job for a little while. It’ll get better,” you say, caressing his soft skin.
To your another surprise, Namjoon nods. Slips his fingers into the hollowness between yours, squeezing back, saying, ‘I hear you.’ Your heart jumps with gladness that you haven’t made a mistake, that instead your reassurement made a difference.
To lighten up the atmosphere, you begin to joke around.
“Should I beat them up?” You raise your brow in mischief, a goofy smile coating your face in lightheartedness.
A grin cracks on his face. “Don’t get your hands dirty for me, baby.”
You scoff, half-seriously and half-unseriously shaking your head at his eagerness to please but never letting himself be pleased. “But I want to. I’ll do it for you.”
Namjoon shakes his head as well. Leans over to you. Cradles your head in his hands and kisses you. Picks the hair plastered on your face and puts it away. You forget all of your jokes for a moment, breathless. Your neediness nudges you in your sensitive parts, reminding you of its lingering presence. 
“Come on, Joonie,” you coo, prolonging the vowels, the best you could come up with considering his allure, “I’ll fight them,” you start to construct your imaginary plan, the dimples adorning his face making it a bit harder for you to get the words out, “then, they’ll be scared of me and they won’t bother you again. Because if they do, I’ll smash their fucking teeth in. And then… then, you’ll get your peace for good. Easy.”
Namjoon listens with his features bathed in enamoredness, seemingly lost in a deep thought. A twinkle, a twin to yours, glistens in his eyes. Dimples out provoking you, he softly smiles at you. Coyly. He’s unaccustomed to being the one fought for. He’s always been the one who fights. The one who settles, resolves, makes things right. He’s never been the person these things are done for by another person. It makes his heart pulsate in a strange new rhythm. 
He stretches out his hands and runs his fingers through your hair. Begins to plait an intricate braid down your back, keeping you caged in the confines of his arms. Safe. Protected. His warrior princess.
“There’s something else you can do for me,” he mumbles, finished with your braid. Now your hair is away from your face, just like he needs it for what he’s about to do.
“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow in question, your smirk growing on the side of your face. “Like what?”
“I’m so hard for you, baby,” he whispers into your ear, shoulders hunched, lips tracing the edge of your earlobe. A secret just between the two of you. “My body’s confused. I need a release.”
Even though you saw it coming, even though you saw it a hundred times before, you can’t help but gasp at his desperation, bare and open before you. It’s a new experience each time. Thrilling and titillating, the vividness and ferocity of his sexuality. It causes a flock of playful butterflies to buzz you with electricity in your tummy and a shiver to run down your spine. You feel your own neediness making itself known again and you squeeze your thighs together. 
This is the Namjoon you know. Strong in his softness. Mellow. Intense. The Namjoon who showed you plain roughness was a stranger to you, one you could take the time to get to know, because now you understand that the incentive to act like he did was his frustration from work. You can’t really blame the natural inclination of his body—his body that is yours to love in all shapes or forms.
You perceive he needs to let out some steam—he said so himself. Proud of him for voicing it out, a decision to be his helper already makes a way to your heart. You no longer feel slivers of consternation slithering in your veins. Knowing the cause, knowing it’s still your Namjoon helps you submit to the call of his needs. If a dab of roughness is what entails the sand-speckled footpath to the seaside of his well-being, you’ll take it. Welcome it, even. Within the realm of your established boundaries, that is. 
“Can I see?”
The book falls to the floor with a thud. Namjoon stands up. 
Ever so eager. Responding to his body language out of pure instinct, you hum and lift yourself to your knees. The outline of his engorged length, tight in his pants, greets you and you will your brain not to tell your fingers to rub your swollen clit. To busy your hands, you grip the rim until white brushes along your knuckles.
Emerging from the water, it left you smothered in a luster of wet silkiness. Namjoon’s eyes rake over your bare femininity. Heavenly, pure, seraphic. Groans a little loud. Doesn’t know whether to touch you first or his painfully hard and heavy member. You move your body to the side wall of the tub and he follows you, hand opting for his girth to relieve himself a little bit. 
You sit prettily on your folded legs and lean over, pulling his wrist away. You plant a dewy kiss to the middle of his clothed length and look up at him, just at the right time to catch him whimpering. Your clit pulses again and you feel like crying, needing release as much as he does. He doesn’t make it easy for you, making sounds like that.
“What does my baby girl need me to do?” you ask, stroking his member while stifling your giggles at the title that fits him so well. 
“Baby girl?” He frowns down at you. 
It’s usually what he calls you, hence why his confusion. And you call him by an entirely different title, too.
A giggle does escape your mouth after all. You squeeze at his tip, drawing those delicious whimpers out of him again.
“Only needy little baby girls make sounds like that. You are needy, aren’t you?” You lick that sensitive part, palming his balls. 
Namjoon whines. 
The shift of dynamics, the change of titles ever so dizzying to the mind. He doesn’t even have the strength to correct you. 
He grips the back of your head and moves you away from his cock. Then the realization he’s being rough again wafts over him and he softens his hold, fallen stray hairs coming to rest at your temples. Namjoon tucks them behind your ear. Taps you on the cheek once.
“Get to sucking off your baby girl,” he rasps. 
You smile. Find it immensely attractive that he’s embracing the pet name while still being dominant. A masculinity in its true form.
“You can be rough with me if you want to,” you say, wanting to make that clear. “I think I can handle it.”
Namjoon traces the shell of your ear with his thumb, pondering.
“Just don’t hit me, okay?” 
He says your name sternly, as if you offended him. “I would never deliberately hurt you. How can you think that?” 
“No, I meant—” You lick your lips. “Don’t slap my boobs or anything. You can spank me, I like that. But don’t be as rough with me as you were. Can we take it slow? Is that okay?”
He stares at you for a moment.  
“Do you trust me?”
You nod, turning your head to press a kiss into his palm. “Yes, I trust you.”
“I’ll teach you, then. We’ll take it slow,” he says, fingers stroking the side of your cheek, where a small amount of fluff creates a path for him to lay down his silent love on. “It was a mistake on my part for not preparing you for it, and for that I’m sorry. But I’ll teach you. Show you how good it is.” He pauses. “Until you beg me for it.”
Your throat dries up. The pulsing in your cunt unbearable. 
“Fuck, Namjoon. Save the talk or I’ll come on the spot.” 
“The talk is important,” he reprimands you. “Whether you come or not without my permission is your problem.” 
“Shit,” you whimper, gripping his hand on your cheek. You tighten your hold as if to brattily change his mind on having this kind of control over your orgasm because you need to come as soon as possible. And not just once. You’re sure your dewiness is leaking into the water. 
“No bad words or I’ll fuck your filthy mouth.” 
You gasp. So unused to this side of him. But it turns you on, now that you feel safe. Turns you unstable.
“Say you’re sorry.”
You’re tumbling out the words before he’s even finished with his sentence. “I’m so sorry.”
He beams at your immediate submission, purring at the quintessence of your compliance. Wants more. “Who are you apologizing to?” 
You pause. His usual title almost slips off of your tongue. But since this is new and you’re both experiencing a new dynamic that causes you to feel so playful, that guides you ever so gently and carefully into the kingdom of subspace, you opt for the pet name that suits him well. “To my baby girl,” you say, laughing softly. “I’m so sorry, baby girl.” 
He laughs as well, the sound a deep rumble in his chest. You’re giddy that you’re allowed to be wild, your inner child healing and quivering within you. You overflow with the desire to kiss him.
“What for?”
He wants you to say the full sentence. You take a deep breath. 
“Baby girl, I’m so sorry for having a filthy mouth and saying bad words.”
“Hm, do you regret it?” 
You almost curse again. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry for being bad.”
“Good. Get to work, then,” he says. “Make that mouth useful.”
Fuck.
“Kiss me first, please. Make it better,” you beg, fluttering your eyelashes at him. 
Namjoon moans and you bite your lip. Bends and sucks it between his, deepening the kiss as he opens your jaw and slips his tongue inside. Massages the muscle against yours. Makes those sounds again. Palms his cock. Withdraws with a pop. 
You mewl in satisfaction. That kiss alone ruined you. 
“Good girls get kisses.” Hand under your chin, he squishes your cheeks. “You’ve been exceptionally good. I’m gonna destroy you.” 
He kisses you again with the same intensity but briefly, inhaling your skin. No tongue this time. 
Cheeks awash with rosiness, you hastily unbuckle his belt. Not to cut time and get to his promise faster—on the contrary, you’re dying to pleasure him. He doesn’t help you like he normally does; he merely watches you as you pull down the cotton material of his slacks along with his boxers down his muscular thighs. Only when you wrap your lips around his cock from the side does he throw his head back. Thrusts his hips. 
He’s rock hard. The weight of him makes you absolutely fucked out.
Namjoon likes you there so he keeps you still—there in the middle of his girth. You moan, producing as much saliva as you can to gratify him while he uses your mouth, alternating between keeping those pillows firm and soft. When he gets you to his tip, he expects you to swallow him, but you merely move your head from side to side rapidly, flicking your tongue. Namjoon groans lowly, a string of curse words spilling from his throat. His precum drops onto your chin and you suck in a breath, horny beyond your mind.
You swipe your index finger to collect it. Check if he’s watching before you plunge the digit into your mouth. Roll your eyes back as the tanginess overwhelms your senses. Namjoon hisses. Grabs your braid as if it were a ponytail. Kisses you, aching to be one with you. You feel the vibrations of his fervid mania in unity with him like this and it echoes down your body once he pulls away. 
“Take it in your mouth.” 
Namjoon holds it at the base for you and you find the long vein that you favor so much. Pepper kisses along the length of it, feeling it throb in tandem with your clit. Straightening your spine, you bite your lip. Give him an utter look of adoration before you swipe your tongue along the slit. Humming in delight, you slip him into your mouth. Your cheeks hollow and you begin to bob your head, fingers following your movement, bumping into his fist. Tears pool in your eyes when you dare to inch closer to his hand and even though you gag, you try your hardest to keep him nice and tucked in your warm throat. You sputter and cough, swallowing around him, because you deem he deserves it, knowing how much he loves it when your flesh contracts around him like that, and Namjoon groans deeply. It fills you with a dose of satisfaction almost akin to an orgasm, the lack of oxygen in your brain heightening the experience so much that your head spins. 
“Such a good girl,” he whispers. “Breathe, baby.”
He slips out of your mouth. Pats you on your head before he sinks his fingers into your hair, gripping at the roots. Ascertains you pay attention to him. 
“Don’t do that again,” he says, softly. “You need to breathe. Take a deep breath with me.”
You’re still on your knees and he’s merely looking down at you. You fold your hands on your lap. Your mind is so empty that you’re not sure how you feel right now, having been entirely focused on his pleasure. 
Namjoon inhales deeply with his nose and you do the same.
Inhale, exhale. 
Fondly, he caresses you on your cheek.
“I just wanted to make you feel good,” you explain yourself, thinking that you should.
“I know, baby, and you did. It’s okay, I’m not mad at you.” He smiles at you. “You hear me? I’m not mad at you.”
You nod your head yes. Pout. 
“You feeling okay? Take a deep breath for me again.” 
You do as he says, your senses returning to you like a warm spring wind. 
“Better now?”
You nod again.
“Words.”
You wet your lips with your tongue. “Yes, I feel better now.”
“Good. Do you still wanna continue?”
“Yes, Namjoon. I wanna make you come.” 
Almost like you flipped a switch, his eyes darken. 
“Hands behind your back,” he rasps. 
You oblige, crisscrossing your wrists below the dimples on your lower back.
“‘Atta girl. Back to work, come on.” 
It’s much harder to do so without your hands, especially in the position you’re in. You hesitate.
“I don’t know if I can,” you admit. 
He tuts in pity. “Should I use you then?”
You roll your eyes back, the idea intoxicating your body. You feel woozy. 
“Yes, please.” 
“Focus on your breathing, okay?” 
“Yes, Namjoon.”
Humming, Namjoon grabs your hair gently and sinks your mouth down on his cock, moves you up and down slowly. You focus on not just sucking in your cheeks but also on breathing through your nose like he told you, although you can’t help but moan around him. It turns you on how he manhandles you to his liking so delicately. You swirl your tongue around his tip once he wants you there and you let out a series of whines and whimpers. He keeps you there for a little longer, moaning after you, the sounds creating a paradisiacal symphony. You twist your head in half circles as you continue sucking him, slobbering all over him, using your tongue to flick beneath the mushroom. 
“So good, baby. Yes, fuck.” Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re gonna make me come.” 
You pull away, but a string of saliva still connects you to him. 
He blinks at you. “You want a spanking?” 
You run the tip of your tongue along the top of your lip, giving him the eyes. Cock your eyebrow at him. Namjoon draws a sharp breath in. 
He leans over. One hand tugs at your braid firmly to arch your back over the edge of the tub. The other smacks you sharply on your ass cheek, smoothing over the sting. You moan, nipples rubbing over the cold surface, curse words dying on your tongue. Namjoon grips the flesh, spanks you again. Skims his fingers over your exposed heat. Repeats it on the other cheek, twice in a row. You wiggle your hips, needing to feel more, needing him to touch you right there between your legs. You cry out into his ear.
Letting go of your braid, Namjoon kisses you beneath your jaw. Slides his tongue along the sensitive spot, sucking it between his lips. A secret message that he hears you, that he’ll fuck your needy cunt soon.
“Think you’ll be a good girl for now?” 
Furrowing your eyebrows, you nod a few times. Not a single rational thought passes through your brain. 
Namjoon straightens. Pulls down his foreskin for you. “Spit on it.” 
You watch as your liquid love trickles down and lands on his tip. He hums and surprises you by wrapping your hands around his girth, spreading down the lubrication with you. You feel the ridges and the thick vein in a new, vehement way and even though you’re not the one pleasured, you moan. The simple up and down movement grows in rapidness that your body follows, emulating the effort, making it seem like you’re bouncing on a dick. Your ass splashes the water around, creating tender waves full of love, inherited from your still leaking dewiness. 
His hands are so warm enclasped around yours, pressed tight. Not once unclenching.
You start blabbering. 
“You’re so big. I can’t even wrap my hand around you.” You make sure to look him in the eyes as you say it. “So big in my mouth, too. Could barely fit you.” 
Your words set those twilit embers in his eyes on fire. His breathing quickens. He’s close again and you’re stunned, once more, by the vividness of his sexuality. Your hands go limp in his grasp.
“Nuh-uh, keep up the pace,” he husks. “Thought I was your little baby girl?” 
You shake your head, willing your hands to gain strength again, but it has no source to draw from. “Not anymore.”
Namjoon chuckles, darkly. Notices your movements fluctuating, arms shaking. “Tired?”
You nod and he unclasps his hands. You twist your wrists in circles to alleviate them from a cramp. 
Then, you get an idea.
Sitting back on your heels, you arch your back. Tip your chin down and spit on your chest, the essence flowing down the pathway between your breasts. You do it again, though this time you spread it on your skin. 
“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon mumbles. Unbuttons his shirt. You squeeze your nipples with both hands as your eyes flick to his, then down to his exposed chest. “How are you gonna address me, huh? What’s my name?”
He forcefully tugs the fabric off of his arms, tossing it on the floor. His body—with its vulgar beauty, broadness and definition—takes your breath away. You don’t let it show, or perhaps you pretend that you don’t because you allow your hand to travel down your stomach. Namjoon imitates you, running his fingers down the chiseled muscles that make you drool. He stops at the hair adorning his pelvis. You don’t.
You rub circles on your clit instead.
“Daddy,” you cry out in pleasure, announcing his title—his rightful, most fitting title. Face contorting at the brisk, blooming flashes of sensuality rising up your form.
His body tenses. It’s like he’s stopping himself from reaching for you, pulling you out of the bathtub and spanking you until your bottom resembles the water. Or tugging at his length until he paints you white with his cum. 
You make it easy for him. 
Lifting your body, you step over the edge of the bathtub. Kneel at his feet on the fluffy black mat. Far enough for him to see purple liquid pearls make their way down to your cunt. Far enough for him to see how you resume those circles on your bundle of nerves, fingers reaching to your hole for lubrication. You roll your hips into your hand, arm propped behind you.
“What’s this show?” Namjoon rasps, his cock twitching. “I don’t remember giving you permission to touch yourself. You wanna end up with zero orgasms?”
You pause. 
“That’s what I thought,” he says. “I believe you have unfinished work to do.” 
You smile mischievously. “You want it bad, don’t you?” 
Namjoon nods. Holds out his hand. “Come to Daddy.”
Exuberantly, you leap into his arms. Namjoon throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing and walks into your shared bedroom. Sets you down on your bed, spreading your legs, and he crouches between them, reaching into his bedside table for the tool that he wants. 
The aroma of strawberries lovingly boops you on the nose. Namjoon squirts a good amount of lubrication on your chest, paying special attention to the pathway in the middle of your breasts. He massages it in, incorporates your sensitive nipples in the preparation, coaxing whimper after whimper out of you by squeezing them and rolling them between his long fingers.
“I’m gonna make a mess,” you say, grinding your hips against nothing.
Namjoon clicks his tongue. “Already?” 
Your dewiness oozes out of you onto the bedding. To prove your point, you lean back on your elbows and lift your knees, revealing your dripping hole and the shine of your soaked folds. Namjoon stares at your cunt but doesn’t touch, doesn’t blink. He bites his lip. Flicks his eyes to yours. 
He kisses the middle of your tummy. Moves over to your heat. Licks a tiny stripe on your clit.
You cry out.
“Namjoon!”
Hands on either side of your waist, crawling up to you, he growls. “Good girls are patient, aren’t they?” 
He doesn’t wait for your response. 
“They take what is given to them and they finish what they started,” he continues. “Don’t they?”
You nod.
“And you are a good girl, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m a good girl.” 
“Then thank your Daddy for what he gave you.” 
Your walls squeeze around nothing when you hear him utter his title. It refreshes your body with energy. 
“Thank you, Daddy.” You smile. 
Namjoon kisses you, rewarding you.
“Sit up.”
Changing the layout, it’s Namjoon who reclines halfway on the bed while you sit perched on your knees between his legs, cock in your face. He spurts the lube on his length and jerks himself off, his skin shining in the abrupt spillage of burnt-orange sunlight from the window. Watches your eyes round in astonishment similarly to the way they did earlier when you had gazed upon the glitter swarming around you. 
He nods at you, giving you the green light, and you sheathe his girth into the tightness of your squished tits. You may start a face pace from the get go, fucking him into oblivion, but all Namjoon sees is the whites of your eyes, the glimmer, the pure enjoyment of what you’re doing while the rest of you is immersed in subdued late afternoon shadows. Sweat glistens on the planes of his face, dribbling down to the strained column of his neck.
It’s intense. So intense that he can’t vocally react. 
Precum appears once more on his mushroom, displaying his arousal, and you slurp it up, the braid coming undone—your hair falling around you like a curtain. 
It’s brutal. It’s wet. 
Namjoon gathers your hair to the side in a makeshift ponytail and leans over to be closer to you. Needs you like this. Feels his relief catching up to him the more effort you put in, the more you stick out your tongue to flick at that sensitive part of him whenever you can. 
“Want your come. So bad. Want it all over me,” you whisper, and that’s it for him. 
“Say please,” he murmurs, and it’s barely a sound, but you hear him. 
“Please, Daddy, come for me.” 
Pulling your hands away, Namjoon takes charge. Fucks your tits in frenzy, your hair, now half dry, tickling your skin. With his thumbs, he stimulates your nipples to coax those little sounds of yours and—
“Play with your pussy,” he commands. “But don’t come. Tease yourself like you teased Daddy.”
The relief on your face inches him closer to his. He hears the wetness as you dip a finger in, your walls sucking it in. He hears your breath get stuck in your throat. The slow crescendo of your moans. Suddenly, he hears himself too. 
Whiny, desperate, so unlike himself.
It’s a fortress of safety, his forehead on top of yours. His nose bumping against yours. Open mouth ghosting over the sounds of your well-deserved pleasure. It’s a safe place for him to come in.  
And he does. 
Ropes upon ropes of come color you ivory white, color you clean. The reversal of a coloring book—changing the lines, changing the scheme, changing your life. 
You milk him dry, your pussy long forgotten. Milk him until he pushes you away, chest heaving, unable to catch his breath. You just watch him, his seed hot on your chest. Glittery. And not just there. On your neck, on your chin, in the wavy strands of your hair. 
You’re in awe of him. You can see the pressure leaving him like a ghost slinking out of the window. 
Namjoon takes off his glasses. With two fingers, he collects as much of his essence as he can and plunges them into your mouth. The other hand rests on the crook of your neck, thumb protectively over your throat. “Swallow.”
Not for long. Namjoon throws you on the bed. Doesn’t waste time.
He laps up your pussy, clit to hole, sucking your labia into his mouth. He does it again, but this time he travels a bit further. Clit, hole, ass. Tongue flat. Your screams are muffled by the rumpled bedsheet you grip.
Going back to your leaking hole, he circles the flesh before he dips the tongue in. Wraps his arms around your ass to control your squirming, feeling the dip of your spine as the sunlight kisses it. Dust particles spiral in the air—Namjoon sees it. The dark grey curtain keeping half of the world shrouded in dimness while the other illuminated, a picture cut in a heart shape due to the deliciousness of your ass. 
Fuck, Namjoon longs to play with it again. 
He spits on it, rubbing the saliva around it before he slides his tongue back into your wet hole. Says hello to it—long time no see—teases it, before he dips his thumb in. You arch your back even more, welcoming the intrusion, and Namjoon kisses your pussy lips as a thank you. He quivers with the craving to fuck you right there in your ass, but knows better than to do it. You’re not ready for it. 
Spreading you more open, while keeping his thumb there in that sweet place, he begins to focus on your poor little clit. Swirls his tongue around it firmly, sucking it until your back trembles—goes up and down like a seesaw. The kisses he leaves there are obscene, loud, full of thankfulness that he gets to play with you. Full of love for you that he burns bright with—that propels him to flick his tongue harder. And full of joy that his stress is gone. Joy that you’ve been the helper unscrewing the steel body of heaviness off of his because, as of now, his bones feel lighter.
“You’re so good for me.” He smacks his lips against your cunt. “Fucking Daddy like that when he needed you.” 
Vigorously, he rubs his face against you, shaking his head from side to side. You stretch your fingers behind you and helplessly grip the back of your thighs. Namjoon catches one of your hands, holds it with his free four fingers, sucking your clit. 
“Thank you, baby,” he whispers, withdrawing to pay attention to your other hole, missing it. Abuses it once he spits on it, eating it, dipping his tongue in with ease since he stretched you. Fucks you there in the only way he can. 
“Wanna come?” he asks and as he waits for your answer, he goes lower to drink your freshness, not letting a drop go to waste. 
You’ve lost your voice screaming. “Yes, Daddy, please. I can’t hold it in anymore. Please, let me come,” you croak. 
Namjoon makes a sound of appreciation, proud of you for holding out for so long without saying anything.
“I think you can,” he says. Stuffs a finger into your dripping hole and lets you adjust for a moment. Adds another. “I think you can hold it while I count to ten.” 
His digits pump into you slowly. Kneeling by your side, he turns your head so you can see him, twisting your body into the position he wants. The curve of your back is so beautiful in his sight that he can’t help but run his free hand over the route that your spine has become. The route he wants to plant kisses on like flowers of various colors, adding to the coloring book, erasing the old. 
And he does. Begins at the nape of your neck. Picks up the speed.
“One.” 
You cry out. First before your tears rush out, pooling in your waterline. You clench your whole body in naive hope it would stall the orgasm, but it quickens it, squeezing his fingers in, so you relax your muscles. 
“Two.” 
A kiss to the first round protrusion of your spine. Shifting your weight to your shoulder, you take his cock into your hand. 
“Three.”
The middle of your shoulder blades. You hear your wetness oozing out of you, the relief prowling closer. You whine and Namjoon understands.
“Hold it or I’ll stop,” he whispers. “I can feel your pussy squeezing around my fingers. Relax.” 
You match your pace with his. Namjoon begins to pant. You feel his hot, heavy breath beneath your shoulder blades. 
“Six.” 
Ass shaking from the force, he jackhammers into you. Pulls out for a moment to spank you, a merciful gesture, before he’s back in. Leaves a wet fingerprint on your skin.
“Eight.”
The last protrusion of your spine. You silence your moans by pressing your hand against your mouth because they bring you closer to your orgasm, however Namjoon yanks your arm away. 
“Make those pretty sounds for me, come on,” he huffs, kissing both of those dimples on your back. “Ten. Come. Come for Daddy. Come all over his hand.”
And you do.
It’s a paradise, the heat closing in on you. The loss of hearing, the muted ringing, resembling the flap of a bird’s wing. The loss of surroundings as you’re momentarily transported somewhere entirely else. A gilded illustration, perhaps a lively projection. Something, somewhere, where all is good. The orgasm rips through you and the repetitive echo of his name leaving your mouth is what brings you back. Away from the storybook into a brand new coloring book.
Namjoon strokes your hair. 
He holds you in his arms, but something sticks you uncomfortably together. You peel yourself off of him and cringe. Strings upon strings of his come, gleaming with speckles of glitter, do not want you to leave. You sit on his thighs, resting your palms on his chest. 
He kisses you. “Are you okay?”
You nod with droopy eyelids. 
He carries you into the shower and makes a way for all colors of the rainbow to perfuse your body. To create a new storyline for the day, for the week, for the month. Reds and pinks show their faces first in the steam, and even though Namjoon is glad to see them, he looks forward to meeting the rest. To learning their objectives so he can fulfill them. 
Grabbing the yellow book on the way back to the bedroom, Namjoon makes himself comfortable beside you. Is careful not to touch your face out of habit because you have a face mask on; careful not to bump into you either because you have a plate of mozzarella and sliced tomatoes on your lap. He kisses your hair, though. Doesn’t have the strength to fight internally—grabs your jawline and ever so slowly and heedfully, he kisses you, fingers finding the first chapter unwittingly. 
“When Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from troubled dreams, he found himself changed into a monstrous cockroach in his bed.” 
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© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.
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raplinenthusiasts · 6 months
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🫶 @dearedwardteach
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kingofbodyrolls · 3 months
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Sprout | knj | mini series masterlist
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Summary: You love your plants, you love your garden, you do not love your new neighbor. You hate him with all your might— he wrecks everything you hold dear so you do the only reasonable thing: retaliate. 
Pairing: Namjoon x female reader 
AUs: neighbors au, gardening au → strangers to enemies to friends to lovers 
Genres: slice of life, smut, humor
Rating: explicit
Word count: 20.7K
Status: completed
Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸
Warnings: will be tagged for each individual chapter, but overall it includes the following: reader is just a really mean brat on a warpath. That entails pranks and vandalism and overall pettiness 👀 Namjoon has a driver’s license in this (this is a warning yes 😂), (somewhat) rough smut; degrading name calling (bitch), hair pulling, spanking, very brief anal fingering, some cockwarming, throat fucking, breast and nipple play, sexual tension, stupid innuendos, oral (both receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (please don’t be stupid), praise kink, begging, exhibitionism, slight dom/sub themes 👀 big dick Joonie, creampie, aftercare — I think that’s it!
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🌱 Chapter 1 - Greenhouse | word count: 3.7K | Read → chapter one
🌱 Chapter 2 - To snap a twig | word count: 3.8K | Read → chapter two
🌱 Chapter 3 - Bloom | word count: 5K | Read → chapter three
🌱 Chapter 4 - Housewarming party | word count: 8.2K | Read → chapter four [FIN]
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kth1 · 11 months
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in bangtan we trust 
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margotw10bis · 1 month
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Pretty Baby.KNJ [m]
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sugardaddy!namjoon x sugarbaby!reader
Genre: smut; short-story
Words: 4.9k
Synopsis: Namjoon is your sugar daddy. However, you can't deny how your heart is jumping in your chest when he calls you his "pretty baby"…
Warnings: rough sex; unprotected sex; anal sex; first anal; oral sex (f. receiving); Namjoon is huge 😳; he loves ass; use of "daddy"
1 → 2 → 3 (Bonus : Memories ; Doubts & Possibilities)
What just happened? Namjoon is so shocked about your demand that he just stays still for several minutes. He has never imagined, in a thousand years, that you, his pretty baby, would put an end at your relationship like that. Were there signs he didn't see? Were you unhappy? He genuinely thought that you liked spending time with him, especially since he started to make efforts to know you better. He even thought that you liked him. But you obviously don't.
He wanted to tell you to change your mind, to think about it, that he could change if you wanted him to, but it would have been selfish. It was already too damn selfish willing to keep you for himself when he was fucking other girls — even if he doesn't anymore.
He thought that something changed the last time you two had sex. It was different, more real. Did he imagine everything? It looks like it since you just stepped out of his office after throwing a bomb at him. Fuck. But then, why would you look so sad? Everything is messed up in his head, he can't think straight.
More than the surprise caused by your announcement, Namjoon feels something truly unpleasant in his chest and he wishes it was just his ego. But it's not. He knows damn well it's his heart. Once again: fuck.
————
"I don't understand you, honestly" Jimin sighs
Yeah, you neither. You regret so, so much what you did yesterday. You clearly let Lisa messing up with your brain. You should have trusted Namjoon rather than her. You were so afraid of being hurt that you pushed him away and you hurt yourself instead. That's fucking stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
"I don't need you to tell me I've fucked up, Jimin. I need you as my best friend to support me and tell me everything is going to be fine" You say with a shaky voice, ready to start crying, again
"Come here" He whispers to hug you and rub your back
"Can I stay here tonight?"
"Of course you can. We are going to watch your favorite show on Netflix and eat some pizzas. How does it sound?"
You look at your best friend and feel so damn lucky to have him. You rub your eyes to get rid off the last tears and get the TV remote.
In another part of the town, Namjoon opens the door of the apartment. Your apartment. He can't just give up like that, without even fighting. But the place is desperately empty. No lights on, no noise. You are simply not here. He still has a ridiculous slight hope when he opens the door of your bedroom. Yet, your face is no where to be seen. Namjoon's heart squeezes. Where the fuck are you?
He is not sure you will show up tonight so he decides to leave and go meet his parents. Maybe he could use some advices from a 40-year married couple.
Namjoon's mom is super excited to see her busy son. It's pretty rare he comes eat with them. But her smiles fades when she notices the look on his face. He looks tired and sad. Defeated. It breaks her heart to see him like this.
They sit in the comfortable and huge sofas of the living room. Every single furniture of their mammoth house is expensive. Namjoon's parents love buying costly things but also giving their money to people who need it. Maybe that's why Namjoon doesn't have any problem with spoiling his sugar babies.
"Can I ask you guys something?" He asks, unsure
"Of course, honey" His mom says
"How did you become a couple? Was it easy?"
His parents share a glance, half surprised half amused. Namjoon has never wanted to hear about love before.
"It was certainly not easy" His dad starts "Your mom is pretty stubborn. I gave her many presents, expensive jewelries and so on. But she didn't care at all. I honestly thought she wasn't interested"
"I didn't care about the money. I cared about him and his feelings. You know, love is not just words but acts too. However, the acts don't have to take the material form of gifts" The woman continues
"So how?" Namjoon asks
"Spending time with each other. Small acts of consideration. Actually, the best acts of love are the simplest ones because they show how sincere you are and that you care about the small details" Her mom answers
Namjoon takes a few moments to think about it. He has shown his affection with presents. Expensive ones, even. But you, you are full of those simple acts of consideration his mom is describing. You made sure he wasn't tired or that he ate well. You changed your shampoo when you noticed Namjoon's scrunched nose at the smell of it even if he didn't say anything about not liking it. You distracted him with a mind-blowing blowjob on the day he lost a huge contract. Fuck, everything you have done the past few months was little acts that made him slowly fall in love with you. But maybe you didn't think Namjoon cared about you too.
"Is this about the girl from the mall?" Namjoon's mom asks carefully
"Yeah, but I'm not sure she really wants to be with me" He replies honestly
"I think she does. The look she was giving you, it doesn't lie, honey"
Those words are what Namjoon needed. Now, he has to find a way to see you again.
————
You have thought about it all day. Should you? It's Namjoon's birthday and you were invited by his mom. But it's also true that you told him you wanted to end things... However, you miss him so bad and it has only been five days.
You check yourself in the mirror. Yes, you have thought about not going but you have still gotten ready. Your heart beats so loud that you wonder how it is not showing through the soft material of your white silk dress — great metaphor of your willing to go back from the start and start on a new page.
It's Namjoon's birthday. And you miss him. And you love him. The only thing holding you back is you and your fear of being hurt. Are going to stay alone your entire life because of that? That would be so pathetic. Fuck, Namjoon gave you so much confidence, where did it go? You would be so disappointed in yourself if you don't at least try. So you fix your mascara for the last time and head to Namjoon's party.
The house is way bigger than you thought, especially because it's in Seoul center. You can't imagine the price of it. You knock on the front door and a fucking butler invites you inside. You are stressed, you can feel your hands shaking. Thankfully, there are no too many people — you guess just family and close friends. That makes you wonder what you are doing here. Everyone is so elegant and, even if you have put on one of your most beautiful dresses, you don't seem to belong here.
"Boring party, isn't it?"
You jolt as a male voice whispers in your ear. You turn your head and meet some very handsome man. He could easy be elected World Wide Handsome. His brown hair looks smooth and his eyes are sparkling with playfulness. Let's not talk about his juicy and plump lips. Fuck, every women must be jealous of it.
On the other side, the stranger is quite amused by your shyness. He also wonders what such a pretty girl is doing it. If his friend Namjoon has you as a friend, Seokjin would be upset and disappointed that he didn't introduce you to him before. Yes, the man is a womanizer but a very picky one: he seems to date only the most beautiful women.
"I'm Seokjin by the way"
"Y/N" You reply, shyly
Seokjin's eyes widen. Are you Y/N? Like the woman his friend can't shut up about lately? Oh, things are about to get interesting... Now he understands Namjoon. You look very pretty in that dress, almost a sexy version of a cute bride. Yep, Namjoon will go crazy when he sees you and the slight shadow of your nipples through the thin and smooth fabric. But for now, he is not here and Seokjin is a flirt.
"I'm honored to meet the most beautiful woman of the night" He says with a seductive tone
You don't really know what to say so you just thank him. Is he flirting? Oh my god, how are you going to escape him?
"It's the glass I wanted to bring to my friend but I rather offer it to a pretty girl" He continues, handing you a glass of champagne
You take it. You need alcohol to gather your courage, especially if Namjoon tells you to go fuck yourself after what happened in his office. You drink the glass one shot.
"Well! You go faster than Dom Toretto!" Seokjin jokes, laughing so loud than a few people turn toward you
His laugh also attracts Namjoon's eye. However, he doesn't see his friend. The only thing that seems to be visible to him is you. You came. And you look so fucking gorgeous. Namjoon recognizes the silk dress, it was his birthday gift for you. It looks so good on you that Namjoon's brain starts picturing you in all kinds of situations — both with and without the dress on. He wonders if it's the kind of dress you would wear for your wedding day. And after your marriage, what you would look like with a baby in your belly, his baby. How proud he would be to have you by his side and how everyone could see you belong to him.
Okay, his brain is definitely sick because those are ridiculous thoughts. You said you didn't want this relationship with him. But, what are you doing here?
Namjoon walks toward you and your heart stops when you see him. He is the definition of handsomeness. And he is wearing a fucking black — Prada it seems — suit with a white shirt. It's the look you prefer on him. This is torture for you, especially if it's the last time you see him.
"Hi" You almost whisper
"Hi" His voice is neutral and you don't know if it's a good thing "Can I talk to you, in private?"
You gulp and nod. Fuck, you are stressing so much. He invites you to follow him and he leads you to his bedroom. A huge place actually with not only a king size bed but also a sofa and a large bookshelf. All the furnitures are matching, even the pattern of the fabric. The color scheme, warm beige with hints of green here and there, is soothing — something you really appreciate right now.
There are so many things you want to say but nothing seems to form on your tongue. You can't look at him. You are so overwhelmed by your feelings that you could cry.
"I'm surprised you're here" Namjoon says
There is no reproach in his voice, he is just sincerely surprised. You can understand. But is it a good or a bad thing?
"I can leave if you want"
'But please don't say you want me to leave' You pray internally
"No, I'm actually glad you're here"
Your heart does a backflip in your chest and you look at him with hope.
"I'm so sorry for what I've said" You say as you are gathering all your courage "I don't want to end the contract"
"But I do"
Your whole body freezes. Your heart stops too, in a painful way. It hurts so bad, like your soul is torn apart. So that's it. It's the end for Namjoon and you. Fuck, you wish you could go back and never went to his office. You would do anything to go back in time.
A breathless 'Oh' leaves your lips, like you have received an uppercut in the stomach — well, it's pretty much what you feel.
Namjoon gets closer and notices your eyes watering. Words are not enough to express what he is feeling so he does what he does best. He captures your lips and kisses you deeply. You moan both in surprise and pleasure. You don't know what the kiss means but you are ready to take whatever he is giving to you if it's the last time you see him.
Namjoon wraps his arms around your small frame. The silk of the dress is so smooth under the tip of his fingers, but not as smooth as your skin. His hands go down and find your ass. He makes sure to lift the fabric and digs his palms into the flesh of your asscheeks. The cold air on your hot skin makes you gasp in pleasure. He growls as he missed it so much.
You pull him closer by grabbing the back of his neck. His lips travel down your jaw and then to the thin skin of your throat. His wet kisses make you shiver and create a pool of arousal between your legs, especially when Namjoon sucks on your skin. A reddish mark adores your neck. Namjoon smiles at it. You are so beautiful, you can't go out without a stamp of him.
Namjoon doesn't stop. He firmly grabs your ass and lifts you up. You wrap your legs around his torso and secure your arms around his large shoulders. You are now higher than him and it gives him the opportunity to dig his face into your breasts. He messily kisses your boobs and captures your harden nipples with his teeth through the fabric of the dress. Namjoon smirks when he notices you don't wear a bra and bites your nipple a little harder, making you whimper. Your head rolls back and you arch your back to give him a better access.
Your soaked pussy also needs friction so you start grinding on his abs. You need him so bad. You are stressed and horny when you think about what you are going to do.
Namjoon walks to his bed and sits on it, you still inside his arms. The new position makes it easier for you to grind on his lap. You can clearly feel his hard-on against your clothed cunt. You tug on his hair to access his lips and you kiss him like there is no tomorrow.
"Damn, baby, you're on fire" He jokes against your lips
"I want you" You moan, there is no better way to say the truth
You pull off and stand up between his muscled legs. You can see lust in Namjoon's brown eyes but also some affection in them. It gives you confidence to carry on. You take off your dress and the sight of your body almost completely bare makes Namjoon's cock twitch in his pants. He can't help but caress himself through the fabric, and his dick gets even harder. You slid down your ridiculously small and wet panties to stand entirely exposed in front of him. You finally take off your heels, your feet thanking you for that. You feel fragile but also proud to have the courage to completely give yourself to the man you love. You will have nothing to regret, even if tonight is the last night you'll ever spend together.
Your breathe is shaky and your hands are sweaty. Fuck, stress makes your legs weak but you have made up your mind way before entering Namjoon's parents' house. You are prepared, both mentally and physically for what is coming. You now have to trust yourself and Namjoon. You turn around and give Namjoon a perfect view of your ass he loves so much. You slightly bend over so he can see both your holes. Your pussy is so wet that Namjoon's breathe on it makes you clench.
"Fuck, baby" Namjoon whispers as it was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen
"It's your birthday present" You say shyly
Namjoon is taken aback. Is it what he is thinking about?
"What do you mean?" He asks, clearing his throat — he wants to be sure he is not over-interpreting
You take a deep breathe and reply.
"You can have my ass tonight"
It's like a dream came true for Namjoon. He has been dreaming about it for months. Your perfect ass. He wanted to stretch it every time he squeezed your cheeks. It must be so fucking tight. Just thinking he will finally be able to dive in it could be enough to make him cum in his pants.
He doesn't waste any time and starts licking your glistening pussy. You moan about how starved he looks. He is literally making out with your pussy and it's so fucking hot. His tongue rolls on your clit, then digs in your entrance to go back to your clit again. It's so good that your legs quiver. At some point, Namjoon takes a fat licking from your sensitive bud to your pussy entrance but continues higher to your other hole.
You whimper as Namjoon takes big laps of it. The new sensation is beyond words. You feel way more sensitive. You have to grab his hair behind you when he enters your pussy with two fingers, still wetting your puckered hole. Namjoon's face is so deep between your asscheeks that it's scandalous but fuck it feels good.
He leaves your hole one second to bite on the flesh of your perfect ass. His fingers pumping into your dripping cunt are delightful, especially when he goes deep and fast, making your legs weak. You can feel some arousal going down your inner thighs.
"Keep going, I'm gonna cum" You moan
Seeing you liking it makes Namjoon so fucking happy. He could eat your ass all day. Your hole is damn soaked right now and Namjoon starts entering it with his tongue. You're so sensitive, you're not sure to can handle it. Namjoon speeds it pace in your pussy and you almost scream. You tighten your fingers in his hair, bringing him deeper against your ass and he growls. Your pussy clenches and Namjoon digs his tongue further in your hole, almost not able to breathe. You know how sinful you look but fuck, Namjoon is tonguing your ass. The wave of bliss you know well in growing inside you but there is something different, something that makes it more powerful and your teased area is more sensitive. You can't hold any longer and you cum on his face and fingers. Choked screams of his name escape from your lips. Namjoon grabs you in his arms to prevent you from falling.
He puts you on his bed delicately as you're coming back down to Earth. He lets you rest a little and take off his clothes.
"Are you sure you want this?" He asks you, kissing your lips tenderly
"Yes, just be gentle" You say
You are crushing everything in him right now. The trust you put in him doesn't only fill his pride but also his heart. He promises: he is going to fuck your ass so good that you won't ever want him to stop.
"Tell me if you want to stop, okay baby?"
He kisses your forehead and spoons you. You feel his large and buff chest against your back but the way he holds you is so sweet that you push your ass closer to his cock with an urged need of feeling him. He places your upper leg a little forward to have a better access to your ass. He also makes sure to bring a good amount of your juices to your hole and to his large cock to lube them.
"I'm going to stretch you a little, I don't want to break you" He whispers in your ears "Yet" He adds playfully to make you laugh
Namjoon slowly pushes one finger in your so tight hole and you gasp. You hold on his other arm wrapped around your waist. He softly starts back and forth moves. It hurts a little but it's also so fucking good.
"Try to relax, it will hurt less" Namjoon says as he pecks your shoulder
You do as he says and you notice how easier it makes for him to finger you. He adds other finger and you almost cum instantly. Fuck, it's so good. You can't even describe how it feels. It's like you can feel him better, deeper. All the sensations are increased.
Namjoon enhances his pace when he sees you feeling more pleasure. He can't wait to put his dick in and to make you cum all over it. Your tight hole is going to feel so good around his length.
"Fuck, I need your cock"
Namjoon is beyond happy to fulfill your wish. He pulls off his fingers and grabs his cock. You feel his tip slightly entering your pussy to gather some of your arousal and then going up to your ass. He pushes to enter you but he is so fucking big.
"Come on, baby, I know you can take it" Namjoon encourages you
You gasp as his tip is inside you. You feel so fucking stretched. Pleasure and pain have never been this connected. You dig your nails deep inside his forearm but he doesn't care: you are fucking taking his cock in your fucking ass. Namjoon caresses your stomach to soothe the pain and keeps kissing your shoulder. He is so gentle you could die.
"Are you okay?"
You nod and Namjoon pushes deeper. You feel every single inch entering you and stretching you. You know he is not entirely in you but you're not sure to take more of him. Namjoon seems to feel it and he slowly pulls over, not completely, to push inside again. You start moaning, louder and louder as Namjoon pounds faster. The pain is still here but the pleasure... Oh god, it's beyond words.
"Fuck, Joonie" You moan as he enters your hole deeper
"You're doing great, baby. It's the best birthday present ever"
He grabs your asscheek and squeezes it hard. He spreads it to look at his dick fucking your ass. Feeling your very tight hole stretched by his huge cock is delightful. Especially when he is the first one. The thought makes his dick twitch inside your ass. He enhances the pace a little when he sees you relaxing and having pleasure. He feels so proud of it, that his cock provides you pleasure. That his cock is fucking your ass. He growls when he realizes it.
"You're so fucking perfect. Your ass feels so good"
The bliss is driving him crazy. He could fuck you so rough that you wouldn't be able to walk for days. But it's your first anal, he can't just destroy you. He grabs your chin to kiss you. Your hand reaches the back of his head. He gives you one hard dick stroke, making you scream his name. You don't even care that other people in the house hear you.
"That's it, scream my name, baby. Tell everyone who fucks you good"
"It's you, Namjoon" You moan loudly
He starts pounding pretty hard and fast in your ass and you're on the edge. Namjoon captures your throat with his large palm. He is almost entirely inside your ass and you feel him so deep. You have never felt so full. You start feeling a huge orgasm building inside you, despite your empty and clenching pussy.
"My pretty baby" He moans when sounds of skins clapping starts filling the room
You're so close to cum. Namjoon looks at your perfect ass taking his cock. Your cheeks get spanked by his thighs and abs every single time. He is not as gentle as at the beginning but he can't hold himself, especially when he notices how fucked up you look. You love his dick in your ass, he can feel it. He swears, he is going to fuck your perfect little ass harder the next time and you will beg for more. The show is so sinful that it spurs Namjoon to push deeper inside your ass, now entirely. He doesn't even know how you manage to take his dick in your tight hole but one thing is sure: you do and you do it fucking well.
"Oh, fuck!" You hiss "I gonna cum"
Namjoon smirks and slaps the side of your ass. You feel your empty pussy clenching. He seems to hear your silent prayers and the hand around your waist goes South to slide two fingers into your cunt, making you groan loudly. You feel so full of him that you can't help tightening your holes. Namjoon is fucking your ass so good. He hides his face in the crook of your neck and hugs you tighter in his arms as he pounds you deeper.
"Cum for me, baby" He whispers, almost begging you as he feels he won't last long
Your hole is too tight and it feels too good to have you in his arms. It feels so good to see how much you trust him — you let him fuck your ass for god's sake!
"Yes, yes!" You scream, loosing your mind over the pleasure
"Fuck, I love your ass" He growls, the vibration echoing into your core
You can't hold on any longer and you cum hard on his cock and his fingers buried deep in your pussy, almost crying of how huge is the wave of pleasure washing over you. You mumble some words you don't even know as you are high. So high, way beyond clouds.
Namjoon pounds a few more times into your tight ass and releases his cum inside. He hugs you so tight, leaving your pussy empty again but still inside your ass, like he is afraid you vanish.
You two stay like that a moment. You can't believe Namjoon just fucked you ass. You also can't believe how much you liked it. You almost fall asleep, you don't want to leave his embrace. You feel good, peaceful. You hum in content and scoot closer into his chest.
"Did you mean it?" He asks suddenly
"What?"
"That you love me"
Your body tenses and your eyes open wide. What? How does he know? You pull over, running at the opposite side of the huge bed. You try to cover your naked body with your hands. You look so panicked, almost terrified.
"It's okay if you didn't mean it" Namjoon reassures you, even though it breaks his heart to see how you are reacting right now
Did you just confessed your love while you were having an orgasm? Well, the best orgasm ever, but still. You're so ashamed. You didn't want to tell him like that. Fuck, when you tell Jimin you said 'I love you' to Namjoon while his dick was in your ass, he is going to laugh so loud...
You are ready to deny it but when you see Namjoon's face, you can't lie. You do love him. You can't keep being a coward and lying to Namjoon and to yourself.
"I meant it. I love you, Namjoon" You confess in a whisper
The silence is killing you. Especially when it's the exact moment you brain chooses to remind you that Namjoon said he wanted to end the contract too.
"That's a good thing" He says, surprising you "Because I love you too"
He gets closer to you and caresses your cheeks. Okay, you have always loved how kind he was after sex but the way he is looking at you right now, it make your heart melt so much it hurts. You can't help kissing him. Namjoon chuckles against your mouth and hugs you tighter. Honestly, he could fuck you again. No, he could make love to you.
"Say it again" You ask
"I love you"
His bright smile with his dimples brings so much happiness to you. Is it possible to die over joy? Because you could right now.
"Okay, there is no contract anymore but I'm not gonna lie, you're still my pretty baby"
You giggle.
"I have to tell you something" You say, pricking his curiosity "I'm jealous so don't you dare having another baby"
"I'm all yours" He reassures you
Like you said, Namjoon has always been honest with you. So you believe him when he says there is nobody else.
"I think we should go back to the party. I can't not showing at my own birthday"
You nod but wince when you sit.
"Are you okay?" Namjoon asks, worried
"Yes, it just hurts a little" You confess, cheeks reddening
Is it bad that he feels proud of it? He wasn't exactly soft but he definitely can get rougher and honestly, he can't wait to pound into your ass again. Or your pussy. He doesn't care as long as he can give you pleasure.
Namjoon helps you standing up and getting dressed. Your beautiful silk dress is now completely crumpled. You pout at it and Namjoon finds you so pretty. Now that he knows you love him, his brain is even crazier than before: images of you in a white dress walking down the wedding hall or of you with a round belly are stuck in his head. But he definitely can't go as fast, he will scare you.
Does that mean that he will wait for years? Absolutely not. His pretty baby better be prepared for her Christmas present. Especially after the best birthday present he has ever had: you saying that you loved him too. 
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