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oftenderweapons · 4 months

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Natural Connection | KNJ | Ch.5

A Small Town Swoons story

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Plum)

Wordcount: 3.6k

Genre: stragers to lovers, fluff, mild angst; ranger/trainer!Namjoon, Chef!reader

Rating: 18+

Synopsis: Plum wakes up needy, too bad Namjoon has already left her room. Their confrontation doesn't go where expected.

Trigger warnings: swearing, semi-public sex. Making out, grinding, dry humping, mutual masturbation, peaches and cream (i guess???). Musings on unprotected sex. Just a pinch of postcoital misunderstandings. Feral, possessive kissing and light biting.

A/N: Holy moly it's been two years???, but I guess it's better late than never, right? 😅💖 I decided to post this only now since I've already written the final 2 chapters. It's been tought, but I've decided it's time to return to this story and finally complete it (even though Ranger!Joon will be oh so dearly missed. I really didn't want to let go of him LOL, esp since it's time to drop this sunshine baby's full back story 😞🥺🥺🥺)

Here is my Masterlist, enjoy!

Navi: Part 1 – Part 2 — Part 3 – Part 4 - Part 5

When you saw Namjoon the next morning, you only remembered waking up to an empty bed.

It wasn't a pleasant feeling and you weren't ready to acknowledge it like a mature, emotionally stable adult.

“Good morning, Plum,” he murmured, standing very close beside you as he waited for his band of jocks to join you.

“Morning,” you replied, a bit grumpy, but hiding it behind the pretense of courtness.

“Did you sleep alright?” he asked, gentle and apprehensive.

“Uh-huh.”

“Not very wordy, mh?” He nodded to himself. “Okay.” And just like that, conversation was over.

You hated having him right beside you and wasting time in silence when all you wanted to do was hear him talk, but apparently you had to make do with what you had.

The guys arrived all together maybe two minutes after he stopped talking to you.

“Okay, let's stop by the equipment office so you can all get your climbing gear.”

Cruelty didn't even begin to cover the ugly feeling coursing through your every limb. It was a sour kind of betrayal, both from your own body and from the person who has so perfectly won you over in nothing but four days of half smiles and hard work and competent guidance.

It felt like your stomach was being played tennis with, slammed from one side to the other.

Namjoon seemed entirely oblivious to the wretched state you were in, especially once he knelt in front of you and tugged at the straps around your thighs, slipping two fingers in between the harness and your skin to make sure there was enough space for your muscles to flex comfortably. “All set?” he asked, but his voice was dark and once his eyes shot up to your face he couldn't hide a flicker of lust lighting up his guts.

This angle, he thought, was just the same as when he'd lifted your leg and placed the back of your knee over his shoulder, his nose diving in the metallic, earthy scent of you.

He was getting hard. He could tell.

But you took a step back. “Yes.” Your reply was glacial, and it seemed as if you couldn't remove your harness fast enough.

“I'll be right back,” you told him over your shoulder as you headed for the closest restroom in the sports hall.

Namjoon just nodded and watched you go.

“What did you do to her?” Jackson asked him, an unwelcome afterthought, like his personal little devil perched on his shoulder.

“I have no idea,” Namjoon replied, sincere and confused.

“Did you tell her something rude? With your typical lone wolf harshness?” Jaebeom pitched in.

“Who made her mad?” Asked Wooyoung, staring at your figure as you dashed across the hall.

“Namjoon,” said Jackson, not even bothering with stating that maybe you weren't mad at all, and that Namjoon had done absolutely nothing to upset you.

Yet, it was his interaction with you that had made you dash. Or so he thought.

“Go check on the girl, you fool! Didn't mother teach you anything?”

All the guys turned in Bangchan's direction and he seemed to quote, “Broke your heart I'll put it back together, I would wait forever and ever, and that's how it works, that's how you get the girl.”

Jackson and Jaebeom just stared at him, as if they couldn't recognise their friend at all.

“She literally said what every girl wants and we still act like girls are a mystery. Just listen to them, for goodness’ sake.”

Namjoon nodded for a couple seconds, then started in the direction you went.

He entered the corridor to the restroom, and hesitated by the shared washing room that gave access both to the men's toilets and the women's ones. He walked through the women's door. Three other doors in front of him.

He really, wholeheartedly hoped there weren't other women around.

“Plum, are you okay?”

Silence followed.

“I know you're here, Plum. I just need to know you're alright. I don't know what I said or did to upset you, but—”

A door opened and for a second he thought he would die of mortification, then he registered your face.

Relief, at first.

Then something else.

Your cheeks were aflame, and your chest too seemed to be on fire.

Your lips were as red as he'd ever seen them, and it wasn't makeup because he hadn't noticed any bright colour on your face earlier.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded, still speechless.

“You don't seem okay. What is it? Did I—?”

“I am fine, Namjoon. Don't worry. I'm alright. Perfectly okay.”

“But you—”

“Wonderfully fantastic, Namjoon.” Your tone was clipped

You made your way to the door when he stepped in front of it. “Are you?”

You rolled your eyes. “I just told you so!”

He pinched a lock of your hair in between his thumb and forefinger, straightened it, then released it. “You were grumpy this morning.”

“Just stressed about climbing.”

“Nothing to do with me, so?”

You rolled your eyes. Why would he be so perceptive? “Absolutely not.”

“Am I frustrating you?” he asked, and stepped closer.

“Yes, immensely, with all your questions and— The guys will be suspicious. Do they know you—”

“That I came after you? Yes, they saw you dash and suggested I check in on you, which I wanted to do myself, but I wasn't sure it was a good idea, and their validation sort of helped. I know you're mad at me, I don't know why, though!”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You don't know why?!”

You tried to sidestep him, but he was like a wall in front of you. “I don't.”

“I woke up! Alone! I was…!” You gesticulated as if to complete your accusation, but the words wouldn't come out.

“I see,” Namjoon replied, and he immediately noticed it was patronising, which made you seethe at him, pointing a finger against his chest.

“Do not use that tone with me, mister. You could at least have left a note.”

He looked at you like you were nothing but a tiny little mouse he was about to thwart with his big bearish paws. “I'm sorry, Plum. You're right, I should have left a note.”

It was true, he'd dashed earlier that morning, but it was only because a deer had been found not far from the main road, his hind legs severely damaged, and he'd been called to help the local wildlife ranger to pick the animal up for rescue. “It was an emergency and I dashed out and—”

“I woke up and you were gone.” Your eyes were wide, perfectly showing the disbelief you'd felt. “I woke up—” you said, and the pause that followed was like you were looking for words and only the wrong ones were coming up. “I woke up,” you repeated, “wanting you,” you added, cheeks aflame again, eyes aimed at him like guns, like saying ‘you know what I mean’, “And you weren't there,” you concluded.

He stared at you for one or two blinks. “Wanting me?” He asked, and you shoved him back with both your hands, even more fed up.

He, however, caught your wrists and brought them down to your sides, jutting his chin forward in a cocky expression. “You wanted me.”

Your cheeks were boiling and your eyes couldn't bear his face any longer, so you turned them down, to the floor. “Yes.”

“Plum,” he called, his hands trailing up your forearms, all the way to your shoulders.

You shivered, but he proceeded still, headed for the sides of your neck, then your cheeks.

“You want me still, sweets?” His thumbs forced your face up, but your eyes were glued to the floor. “Come on, Plum. Look at me, darling.”

Reluctantly, you did.

“Oh, sweets,” he spoke, ever so gently, so tender. “I was called on an emergency by the rangers of the local park. We were rescuing a deer.”

Your pout was still glued to your face, and you weren't sure why. You're used to commandeering around ten men at a time, but this one, this specific man is not a force you can reckon with.

“I wanted to stay, Plum. I truly did.” He kissed your temple when your initial frustration seemed to subside. “Let me make it up to you, sweets.”

He touched the curve of your neck with his forefinger. “Was it when I asked about your day this morning?” He asked, his finger roaming across your collarbones. “When I asked how you slept?” His finger aimed even lower, just a few millimetres beneath the neckline of your top. He lowered his mouth to your ear, and when he spoke “Or was the sight of me kneeling in front of you, like when you came all over my mouth?”

Your insides clenched like you hadn't just given them the sort of satisfaction they were looking for.

“How can I make it up to you?” He asked, as if he needed to be in your good graces. “Anything you want, sweets.” While one hand drew the line of your side, coming to rest on your waist, the other rested on your jaw, the pad of his thumb tracing your lower lip, and his brow knit as if he were in physical pain from the longing. And goodness, if he knew how to pine…

You let your lips disclose for him and he inhaled sharply as the warmth of your exhale slithered past his fingertip.

His right hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you closer. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded.

“Do you want me to?”

You nodded again, and he smiled, so softly it killed you.

“Use your words, Plum.”

Your heartbeat skipped, your temper now entirely dissolved into warm honey. “Please, kiss me.”

He nodded, his smile so blindingly happy. And he lowered himself to you.

His lips were soft against your own, so delicate and tentative. No tongue, just tiny pecks.

He seemed ready to let go of you, but you had other thoughts in mind. He was already rising, and all you could do was grip the nape of his hair, and keep him still, kissing the line of his jaw now that his mouth was out of reach.

He pulled back, fighting you a little as you kept delivering open mouthed kisses to his throat, by now reaching his collarbone.

He tipped his head back to make eye contact with you and you stopped.

“You wannit?” He said, the words coming out like a dark purr, smooth and vaguely threatening.

You nodded, exasperated, then remembered his correction from before and whispered, “Will you fuck me, please?”

His grin was devilish and helpless at the same time. He shook his head and tried to angle himself away from you, running his hands through his hair.

He had only as much restraint as a well-disciplined, civilised, mannered man, no more no less.

Even a saint would break for you.

You thought he was about to head for the door and leave when he stood before it, locked it shut and turned back to you, with two great strides before slamming his mouth to yours and grabbing your ass, picking you up like you were nothing compared to what he usually lifts in the gym.

You found yourself with your back to the wall and him pressed up against your front, squeezing you in a way that could have been suffocating, except you loved the way he was so explicit in wanting you, and how easy you could read the restraint he was imposing on himself.

You ground against his navel and he lowered you just a little, so that your core was square against his pelvis.

“Woke up late,” you told him in between kisses and gasps. “I stretched over to your side—“

He tried to focus on your words but all he could do was stare at your mouth and register the bits he needed.

“I wanted you,” you said, and it came out like a cry.

“I know,” he said, soft, understanding, soothing.

“You weren’t there, and I was late, and I couldn’t—” You gasped as he dove for your throat, biting gently, making you arch into him, against him, your bodies flush against each other. “I was so mad. So frustrated.”

“Let it all out, sweets,” he said, reliable, steady, strong. “Lay it all on me.”

“I didn’t even have time to pull myself together ‘cause I was late,” you whine, and it came out so weak, so silly.

“I can fix that for you, if you want me to. Just say the words.” He didn’t even need anything done to himself, he just wanted to please you. So many years of well-spent solitude and self-control had taught him everything about patience, everything about himself. It was not his own pleasure he’d learnt to desire, but the pleasure he could give to someone else.

“Want you inside,” you mumbled, chasing his mouth, needing his lips sucking your own, tongues tangled together. Feeling him through his shorts, through your own shorts too was torture when he could be skin to skin against you, inside you, even.

“We’d need to stretch you first, it’s gonna take a bit, baby,” he reminded you, worried.

You bit your lip and looked away. “What if I’d already handled that?”

His eyes went wide, then he bit your chin fondly with a curious enthusiasm. “Just cause I looked at you while kneeling?”

You felt your cheeks flush with fire. “You were— It was like when, the other day you—”

“Hold tight,” he said, then freed an arm by using his forearm to hold you up from beneath both your thighs. With his spare hand, he shoved his shorts down before stopping. “Condom. Damn!”

You squeezed your eyes shut, then let your forehead fall to his shoulder. “Please…”

“Plum, I—”

You weren’t on birth control, and you couldn’t risk going bare. You possibly never could. Not with your period being the most irregular thing ever, and knowing that you could be ovulating any day now.

He helped you slide down his body. “You don’t happen to—”

“Left them in my bedside drawer.”

He let his forehead fall against the wall.

“I cannot go bare—” you offered weakly.

He kissed your temple. “I wouldn’t ask you that. Not even if we were both one hundred percent sure.”

You bit your lip again, thinking, a frown forming on your forehead. And then—

You took his hand in yours, dragged him to the washbasin, with its mirror right in front of you, and as you stood against the counter, his body pressed up behind you, you lowered your shorts, exposing your naked behind to him.

“Plum, I don't think this is a good idea,” he said, biting his tongue.

“You can just grind and I'll—” You brought your hand to your labia and traced a circle against your core that almost made you shiver.

“This could get messy,” he said.

You turned to look at him from over your shoulder and with a flirty smile you added, “I don’t remember it being a problem last time.”

He shook his head and grinned, wolfish and sexy.

You couldn’t quite align the sight of him now with the person he had been out in public about thirty minutes ago; and it got worse when he grabbed the left side of your face with his right hand and brought his mouth to your cheek, biting it gently, his lips giving it a slight suction, as if he were half between nibbling and kissing.

Your head was playing some hard rock soundtrack while it all happened, and it was feral, and you were almost disconnected from yourself but it was heavenly.

It was all heavenly until they knocked at the door.

You stared at each other in the mirror and he cursed under his breath.

“Keep going,” you whispered. “Let them eat cake.”

It took maybe a millisecond to win him over, and it got even rougher, his hand was at your neck, grabbing at the base of your jaw, and he gave a little jerk as your eyes rolled shut. He called for your attention and as soon as you mustered the strength to open your eyes, he brought his other hand to the hill of your pelvis, his hand dwarfing you as he cupped you. “Eyes on me, Plum.”

And you kept your pupils glued to his as he stuck two of his beautifully long, perfectly thick fingers inside you.

Your jaw went slack and he grinned, your hand reaching behind you to grab his ass, pushing him even closer up against you, clawing at his glute.

This time it was his jaw that was left hanging.

You were moving just right against each other, and the knocking stopped, and the last thing you knew was that he groaned, head thrown back before you felt it, hot and wet against you. His head snapped forward next, teeth sinking at the spot between your neck and shoulder as he tried to muffle a moan.

Similarly, you pressed the ball of your hand to your lips as your left one assisted his own between your legs, his fingers inside you while your digits worked on the outside.

He murmured sweet nothings in your ear as he focused on you, kissing, sucking, nibbling at the sensitive skin near your neck and jaw and collarbone. “Come on, Plum,” he whispered. “Come on my fingers, sweet thing. I promise I’ll be so good to you.” His mouth was everywhere on you, and his hand — the one not inside you — was so sweet on your face and your hair.

“I’ll give you anything tonight, I swear, Plum. Anything you want, you’ll have it. It’s all yours,” he said, back to his chivalrous, servicing self. “You’re so beautiful, so precious, so lovely.” His nose was deep in your hair, inhaling you, the osmanthus and elderflower of your shampoo. “I never thought I would find something like you. You’re unbelievable.”

And there was so much pining, so much longing in his dark and shimmering eyes, that when you looked at him again, you crumbled, your legs giving out, and you were lucky his arms had you locked in his embrace: his left one holding your torso and head upright while his hand cradled your face; his right arm instead ran across your waist and navel, his fingers still deep inside you, and it was only thanks to his forearm that you didn’t melt to the floor. His hips were pinning you to the hard edge of the counter, and you knew it would feel tender later, maybe bruise even, but in the haze of your ecstasy you almost found it sexy.

“There you go, Plum,” he cooed at you, his smile all gentle and apprehensive. “That’s my good girl.”

Your head fell back on his shoulder and he kissed you on your lips, a polite little peck that made your stomach flutter.

He was strong, he was dependable and steady, responsible, and it came so easy to you to give up control and just let him take over.

You’d always been neurotic — is that the right word? — about sex. About letting yourself be vulnerable and weak and passive, but with him you just let yourself float to his current, and that was probably one of the best choices you’d ever made.

Your eyes opened and when you finally put him on focus, he gave you this dreamy little smile, and just then you realised how rare it is to see his face like that, up close, but also so serene. So… happy?

“Hello?” you said and he shook his head slowly, as if amused.

“Hello,” he answered.

And you both giggled. “Are we in trouble?” You asked.

“Not sure. But I’m sure you’re nothing but trouble to me.” He gave you a squeeze as you were still in his arms and you were about to frown, not sure how to interpret his sentence. “Despicable, unresistable trouble.” His hand was still inside you and you clenched a little, ready to take more. He inhaled sharply. “Sweet, lovely trouble.” His thumb skimmed your hipbone fondly.

You breathed out slowly, trying to steady yourself. “I guess we should go before we get into any more trouble than this.”

He froze for a second, then nodded and let go of you. “Sure. I’ll just clean you up.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I’ll take care of that.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, but he was staring at the floor, and he was covering himself, and you could tell you’d made a mistake somewhere.

“You sure you don’t mind?” you ask, and he stopped and looked at your reflection.

You were dishevelled and half naked, but he stared at your face like that was the only thing that mattered.

“Of course I don’t?” He said, but it came out almost as a question. He grabbed a towel and soaked it under the tap. “I don’t know the etiquette about this kind of situation,” he murmured while rubbing the towel gently against your glutes. “I’d like to think this would be the polite thing to do. Fix the mess I make.”

Is it just a matter of politeness? you asked yourself, eyes averted. “Sure,” you said and smiled, like it’s no big deal.

Navi: Part 1 – Part 2 — Part 3 – Part 4 - Part 5

Taglist: @blushingatyou @ladykadyrova @sweetjellyfishland @starxclouds @ayanyamnyam (taglist is open!)

#small town swoons #natural connection #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon au #namjoon x yn #namjoon x plum #houseofddaeng #52hertz #bangtansorciere #btswritersclub

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