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#rm fluff
kyph3r · 2 months
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NEW WORKOUT PLAN
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trainer!namjoon x fem!reader
in which... your new trainer is hot, you're horny, and it's past closing hours
warnings: pwp, smut, use of the word "slutty", this is rlly short so be ready for a fast pace, im imagining a chubbier reader but the fic is for everyone !!!
an: just a little drabble, i was listening to the college dropout and the new work out plan played, it inspired me ;)
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when your trainer walks in, you swear the world stops for a second
you just joined a new gym, it's marketing said it was rigorous and had the top trainers in the country working to get people in shape. so when a 6'2, bulky, handsome man walks into your assigned training room and says he'll be helping you work out for the next few months with the sweetest smile on his face, should you really be as surprised and horny as you are?
your first day is extremely embarrassing, you swear the universe cursed you to be the most unflexable person on earth. but your trainer, namjoon, says it's all right with a small smile and proceeds to lay you out on the ground and help you stretch. his big arms grab your thighs and pull them back until your knees hit your chest and fuck, you pray to the highest power that you aren't leaking through your tight little leggings.
"you are so tense, is everything alright?" he asks with a concerned look on his face. the hands on your thighs go higher and start gently massaging your calves as an attempt to get you to relax. it does quite the opposite. you can't tell if he's teasing you on purpose or if he is just that oblivious.
"n-no i'm fine namjoon.. i just don't stretch a lot, that's all!" you say with a tremble in your voice, trying to hold back a pleasured moan from the way he's touching you. he lets out a noise of understanding and starts bending you more.
"if that's the case then we should probably spend a lot of time stretching in our first few sessions," he looks down at you and smiles, "i don't want you to accidentally hurt yourself because you haven't stretched." the look on your face after he said that must have been very amusing, because he had to lower his head to let out a chuckle.
namjoon is an excellent trainer. he insists on doing the workouts alongside you "to make it fair" but it honestly just makes things a lot worse. by the end of the workout his voice is breathier, there's a shine of sweat all over him, and the image of a big man dripping sweat and saying your name alongside praises of "keep it up, you're doing so well" leaves you in more of a debauched state than you should be in after a work out.
by the end of the first month you're sore and very sexually frustrated. you've been trying to seduce him in any way possible, wearing the tightest work out gear you own, blinking up at him with eyes that scream "please fuck me!" any time that you can, you really give props to namjoon for being so respectful and proper during your sessions. but every once in a while his polite persona will break and he'll look at you like he wants to devour you right in there in the training room. but it will quickly go back to normal, leaving you a horny mess.
the closest you think you came to him fucking you was the yoga day, you purposely wore shorts that made your ass look amazing. he told you to do the downward dog position and you swear you heard a quiet "fuck" coming from him behind you, quickly covered with a cough. by the end of the session a blush was set high on his cheekbones and the hands around your waist positioned to check your form were gripping firmer.
by the middle of your second month, he finally breaks.
"do you know how much of a tease you've been, huh?" he questions while giving a slap to your ass. he has you pressed against the wall, backside jutting out to flush against his moving hips. his pace is ruthless, one hand holding your own above your head and the other hooking two fingers into your open mouth. "i had to endure your slutty little outfits for all these weeks, shit, take it."
you moan uncontrollably, his thrusts becoming faster as the hand in your mouth snakes down to your core, playing with your clit.
"namjoon! too much, gonna cum," you whine out, grinding your hips back onto his. he gives another slap to your ass and speeds the fingers on your clit and you're cumming, arousal squirting onto his hand and the ground. his groans become louder as he feels the mess you made and angles his head down to suck along the column of your neck.
"fuck, baby, you're so good. so good for me. just let me use you a little longer." his pace slows to shallow thrusts that feel like they hit your guts until he comes with a low moan, filling your insides.
you are both panting, sweat and cum dripping off of each other. he lays his head on your shoulder and slowly pulls out of your cunt.
"so–" he clears his throat, "would you like to go out somewhere?"
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veethefreeelf · 6 months
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RM / KIM NAMJOON Fic Recs (I)
M - Mature (minors DNI) / F - Fluff / A - Angst / HpE - Happy Ending
None of these works are mine, I tagged all the authors, make sure to go to the authors page, like and reblog their works
new guy - one-shot, 5.5K - by @kithtaehyung - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
Solace - one-shot, 13.5K - by @m-yg93 - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE
the interpretation of dreams - one-shot, 13.8K - by @ppersonna - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
out of my league mini Series by @ppersonna (go through their masterlist, trust) -> M / A / F / HpE
lost in the funhouse - one-shot, 9.7K - by @dovechim - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE?
The Body Through Time - one-shot, 10.9K - by @yeoldontknow - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
False awakening - one-shot, 6.8K - by @taleasnewastime - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
Between the pages - one-shot, 4.5K - by @hwanghyunjinenthusiast - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
you, after all - one-shot, 6.8K - by @effortandmore - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
the sleeping hours - one-shot, 12K - by @effortandmore again because their writing is beautiful -> M / A / F / HpE
tuesday moon - one-shot, 7.7K - by @effortandmore again. Just read all of their Masterlist, please, you won't regret it -> M / F / HpE
worth all your while Series by @effortandmore (just leave here and go to their page) -> M / minor A / F / HpE
promises - one-shot, 18K - by @jeonbunnie - full Masterlist -> M / major A / F / You can choose your ending
lacuna - one-shot, 7K - by @eoieopda - full Masterlist - this one has a prequel and a sequel, do yourself a favor and read all of them -> M / A / F / HpE
The Making of: Love - one-shot, 12.7K - by @inkjam-moon - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
Not Another Holiday Romance - one-shot, 32.3K - by @kpopfanfictrash - full Masterlist - this one is one of my absolute favorites, they never disappoint -> M / A / F / HpE
The Rich Man's Crochet Club - one-shot, 32.4K - by the incredible @kpopfanfictrash again -> M / A / F / HpE
My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold Series by @daechwitatamic - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
give and take - one-shot, 10.5K - by @ddaenggtan - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
midnight wishes - one-shot, 10.3K - by @ddaenggtan again because they write Namjoon beautifully -> M / A / F / HpE
Moon Child - one-shot, 16K - by @adonis-koo - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
Scent of a Woman - one-shot, 10K - by @sahmfanficbts - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
The Take-Home Test - one-shot, 11.3K - by @versigny - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
keep in step - one-shot, 2.6K - by @jjkeverlast - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
On With The Show - one-shot, 33.9K - by @joheunsaram - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
reflection - one-shot, 18.6K - by @jimilter - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
A Fine Line Series by @moni-logues - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
All Night - one-shot, 12K - by @luaspersona - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
real magic - one-shot, 16.7K - @here2bbtstrash - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE
deep end - one-shot, 4.2K - by @here2bbtstrash again because their writing is incredible -> M / F / HpE
The Stand-In - one-shot, 13.5K - by @yoonia - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
doom boy - one-shot, 4.2K - by @soft4gguk - full Masterlist -> M / HpE
s u g a r - one-shot, 10.8K - by @joonberriess - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
rivals academia - one-shot, 4.2K - by @aseaofyoongi - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / HpE
Love Language - one-shot, 14K - by @rmnamjoons - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
Castaways - one-shot, 25.5K - by @rmnamjoons - this one is absolute GOLD -> M / A / F / HpE
all aboard! (the passion express) - one-shot, 10.8K - by @ve1vetyoongi - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
Inside My Mind - one-shot, 19.2K - by @jimlingss - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
His Majesty - one-shot, 9.6K - by @yoonieper - full Masterlist -> M / A / minor F / HpE
Dragonfire - one-shot, 7.3K - by @hamsterclaw - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
obsessed - one-shot, 13.8K - by @namjuicyy - full Masterlist - really read the trigger warnings for this one please, it's not for everyone (it's brilliant tho) -> M / A / F / HpE
Untitled - one-shot, 16K - by @ahundredtimesover - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
Dino-Mite - one-shot, 34.7K - by @chimcess - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
Cherry Muffins and Lavender Tea - one-shot, 8.1K - by @roses-ruby - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE
English literature - one-shot, 7.6K - by @tayegi - full Masterlist - this one also has a sequel, be sure to check it out as well -> M / F / HpE
glasses-clad boy - one-shot, 10K - by @jeongi - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
Love Borrowed - one-shot, 7K - by @goldenkookietae - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
Love is Blind - one-shot, 7.4K - by @helenazbmrskai - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
the snow globe effect - one-shot, 10K - by @gukyi - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
there was a bug - one-shot, 7K - by @kimnjss - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
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mapofthesea · 1 year
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ceos!rapline x reader, fem!reader, poly!rapline, bi!rapline
genre: smut (pwp), fluff
word count: 6.1k 
summary: having three ceo boyfriends comes with its perks- namely the financial freedom to pursue your artistic talents and always getting the jewelry you ask for- but like everything, your luxuries come at a price. 
a price that just so happens to be arriving in their office to satisfy them at every call.
warnings: this is SMUT! They're all fucking, okay? Everyone is also very in love, rapline are little bi babies. Swearing and tension (related to business things that have the boys pent up), they are all sickeningly in love. Specific smut warnings include: dom!rapline x sub!reader, dirty talk, intentional voyeurism, praise and degradation, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, spitting, hair pulling, grinding (in several varieties), technically public sex but behind closed doors, unprotected sex (hey, don’t do this irl), anal play, double penetration, multiple orgasms, cum eating, overstimulation, aftercare ofc!
an: hi, I’m back to write about the nasty things I dream about sometimes. This one is pretty intense so please read the warnings above carefully, and as always if you're under 18 or uncomfortable with the content pleaseeee do not read it. I do not proofread so if there are typos I apologize! (ps the title is inspired by one of my favorite songs about sex, so do yourself a favor and listen to Natural by The Driver Era if you haven’t!)
“I don’t fucking think I approved that!” Namjoon growls into his phone. You can feel the anger coming off of him in waves as he grips the device in his veiny hand. You admire him for a second; the set line of his jaw, the sexy furrow of his brow. Whoever is on the other side of the conversation speaks rapidly again, likely apologizing, and yours ears strain to catch any context. 
You only get to focus for a few seconds before Namjoon’s stare slides to you. His eyebrow raises and you know immediately what he wants. The carpet is beginning to pinch into your knees anyway so you’re glad for the imminent distraction. 
You were in the middle of a new painting when he called you to his office; hands flecked with dry paint and still in yesterdays’ pajamas but you dropped everything and rushed over. It had been like that as long as you could remember- you more than happy to be at your boyfriends’ beck and call as you got to reap the benefits of their job status. It didn't always end up like this when you visited but there’s no denying the spark of pleasure that rides up your spine as Namjoon silently commands you from above. 
He’s already hard beneath his work pants; the expensive silky material stretching around his impressive length. You clench your naked thighs together and pull on his waistband to undo the button and slide down the metal fly. He offers you nothing but a tick of his jaw as you work and the idea drives you crazy, hips rocking uselessly against the air. 
He sighs, and you can’t tell if it's because of the phone call or because you’ve wrapped your delicate hand around his length, tugging at him gently until you have a firm grasp on the base. 
You’ve done this enough to know that getting right to work will get you what you need faster, and there’s no denying how much you love sucking his cock. 
The head is leaking salty precum and you fight the urge to moan as you lick at it and sample his familiar taste. Wetness pools between your legs and your eyes roll back as you gather more of him in your throat. The stretch is pleasant and grounding; familiar enough that you feel an odd sense of peace wash over you as you swallow around his thickness. 
He drops a hand to your hair to push it away from your eyes, gently tucking the pieces behind your ears. You smile around your mouthful of his cock. Saliva dribbles from your lips into your lap and you flush as if the reality of your situation had just hit. Namjoon ruts his hips, clearly unhappy with your pausing, and you double down. It doesn’t take long for the sounds to become overwhelming, the lewd squelching of your tongue working over his cock that you hope can't be heard over the phone. 
“Is that my job? Or is that not exactly what I fucking hired you to do? I pay you way too much for you to be so god damn stupid.” The venom in Namjoon’s voice makes your head spin. Although the words aren't directed at you, the serious tone of his voice is so familiar that your pussy hums and your hips rock forward desperately; searching for the friction your plush thighs can't provide. 
You whine, hoping to draw his attention enough that he'll end the call, but he just shakes his head and taps his foot. Tears of frustration brim hot behind your eyes and his soften just a bit, pointedly glancing down between your thighs where his foot continues to tap. You pull off of his cock, wiping your mouth as you recollect yourself and try to put together the pieces he’s offering to you. He must read your confusion because he tangles his hand in your hair anew, angling your head down to look below yourself. 
His foot; clad in an expensive, shiny leather boot stares back at you. He taps it again, and your head swims. Is he suggesting what you think he is? Hot anticipation strikes your veins as he speaks again. 
“You’re right. That’s what I want you to do.” You know he's still on the call; as he still only uses one hand to guide you back to his cock, but the double edged meaning of the sentences affirms you. 
Your head spins and speeds up all at the same time as you lower yourself enough that you can keep some of his cock in your mouth at the same time your pussy grazes the material of his shoe. 
It's cold and firm, and your mind goes blank as you rut against it. He flexes his foot to adjust the pressure against your clit and you go wild, heart pounding in your chest as you speed up. Out of all the debauched things you’d done in your life of dating your boyfriends, grinding against shoes worth more than your car payment is near the top of the list. Your stomach tightens with every drag and you’ve all but abandoned sucking his cock; just holding it in the warmth of your mouth as you let out pathetic little moans. 
Your orgasm approaches rapidly, punctuated when you look down to see how your juices leave a shiny, sticky trail over his boot. Your heart stammers and you can feel your oncoming release only seconds away when a loud, reverberating bang ruptures your focus. Namjoon’s cock falls completely out of your mouth as you squeak, but your body is so close to the edge of pleasure that you hips keep moving shamelessly. You have no idea who or what just came into his office; but you can't find it in yourself to give a shit. 
“Oh, fuck! I’m coming,” you grip Namjoon’s pant leg and mouth at the fabric as you bear your weight completely on his shoe and rock yourself to completion. 
White flashes behind your eyes and you shiver, clinging to his strong thigh as tears of relief leak from your eyes. 
“Well this is a pleasant surprise,” Yoongi’s husky voice comes with the gentle touch of his fingers brushing your sweaty hair off of your neck. 
“Yoongi!” You keen, leaning into the touch, still a bit too frazzled to move. Namjoon takes the moment to tease his boot back against your clit and you cry out, hips twitching away from him with a whine. 
“Sensitive, honey?” Hoseok calls, and although you knew he was likely there, the confirmation makes you flush. You turn slowly, unearthing your face from Namjoon’s thigh. 
You can't help but feel worshipped under their gaze. Hoseok is staring openly at your ass, admiring the curve created by your squatted position and you’re sure the sheen of your arousal is shining on the insides of your thighs for him. Yoongi  is closer, kneeling just a few inches away from you on the carpet and you smile, practically falling into his warm embrace. He catches you easily and hums. 
“We didn’t know you were here, love. But you made quite the entrance.” His teasing only reignites the fire inside of you; already ready for whatever other plans the trio might have for you. Yoongi has his hand on your ass in a split second, groping the flesh and spreading you open to the groan of approval from Namjoon. 
The sound of his voice reminds you of his abandoned cock and you glance back at him from Yoongi’s embrace. His cock is slick with your spit and flushed angry red at the tip. 
“Sorry, Joonie.” You pout at his state and his cock twitches in response; prompting him to grab it and give himself a sharp tug. Your mouth waters at the sight and you long to have him in your mouth again, but Yoongi tugs you back to him when you start to move. 
“He can wait.” The dominating current in Yoongi’s voice makes you immediately pliant, lurching forward as his fingers ghost along your sodden pussy. You keen, pressing your breasts into him as your back arches. His chest rumbles with a satisfied hum, and it’s near impossible to miss the feeling of him hardening beneath you. 
You catch sight of Hoseok, who had made quick work of shedding his suit jacket and button down top. His tanned skin glows luminous; the light dusting of hair on his lower stomach tempting you to lick your lips. His belt hangs half undone from the loops; the silver clasp reflecting the light in Namjoon’s office. You reach for him with cute grabby hands and he fights an endeared smile as he strides over to you. Yoongi presses a kiss into the space where your neck and shoulder meet before he surprisingly relinquishes you. 
Hoseok pulls your body upward as if you weigh nothing. He steadies you with a curl of his fingers around your bare hip and you shiver at the delicate touch. Long ago, he made a habit of tracing the delicate silvery threads of your stretch marks- mapping the part of you which used to make you shy away from his affection. Now you lean into the touch readily and he smiles to coax the dimples out from his cheeks. 
“Pretty baby,” his eyes search your own before he kisses the tip of your nose, the cleft of your upper lip, the corner of your mouth...everywhere except your lips. Immediately you pout at him, trying to entice another smooch out of him with the pitiful look. A smirk that makes your stomach roll follows, punctuated by the mischief in his warm brown eyes. 
“You want a kiss?” His voice strikes low and hot through your abdomen. You can feel the ghost of his lips just centimeters from your own and you shiver, nipples standing to attention. 
It’s such an odd feeling to anticipate a kiss from someone you’ve been kissing for so long. You’re no stranger to Hoseok’s tricks; the way he and your other boyfriends relish in watching you squirm as they make you wait for the simple pleasure of your lips meeting their own, but you take solace in knowing that at the end of the day they’re just as affected as you. 
Hoseok is craving this kiss just as much as you are as your heart rate spikes; dreaming of the cosmic feeling that will be born from this quite simple delay. You feel him exhale against your face and only then do you realize your eyes had fluttered shut. You snap them open, eager to watch the moment when he leans in. He smiles, showing off his row of perfect teeth; and then promptly sinks to the ground in front of you.
An affronted gasp falls from your lips before you can stop it. Namjoon laughs heartily behind you, and it only takes a second before he’s blessing your line of sight-finally rid of all the pesky layers of clothes that were hiding him. 
Namjoon is nothing if not disciplined, and his recent forays to the gym have certainly been paying off. His biceps look absolutely delectable, and its impossible to miss the tantalizing trail of muscle that has begun to form at his pelvis, encouraging you to look further to the cock you were forced to abandon earlier. You still itch for him-always itch for him, for all of them- but he seems unbothered by the weight of his stiffened cock for the moment. 
Hoseok’s hair tickles at your upper thigh and you stutter a moan. Seated so perfect and handsome below you, Hoseok has wasted no time in pulling his dress pants down just enough that his cock greets you. It’s hard and weeping, creating a dark stain on the light gray pants he had laid out on the dresser last night. 
“Hobi,” you whine at the sight of him eyeing you from his place on the floor. He raises a playful eyebrow and nods, as to encourage your words. 
“What’s up?” He asks, tracing his fingers along the insides of your slick thighs, never close enough to where you actually need him. “I don’t know what you need if you don’t tell me.” 
Your clit throbs under his words- despite their gentle nature you know he’s not kidding. He really would sit here all night, waiting for you to ask for him to dive into your pussy. Fortunately, he's not the only voice in the room. 
“Fuck,” Yoongi growls, stalking over to the pair of you. His cologne engulfs you as he circles your body like a well trained predator. Now naked, the contrast of his bright red hair strikes even more bold against his milky skin. 
“Little one is clearly too dumb to talk to us today...” his eyes are cool and calculating of your trembling figure. His elegant hands flex as he rounds you again, taking claim at the top of Hoseok’s head. You can feel the man’s breath stutter against your thigh at the touch and it’s oddly comforting to know that all of you are in the same boat of overwhelming attraction to one another. 
Yoongi tuts, throwing a glance over his shoulder to Namjoon, who seems happy to just be watching for the moment, occasionally stroking himself to the show. Your breasts heave with every breath of anticipation. 
“What’s her little pussy telling you, Hobi?” Yoongi’s dangerous gaze slides down between your legs as Hoseok pulls your thighs apart. Happily you spread them just enough that he can get an eyeful of your sodden core. 
Despite having just come a few moments ago you’re more than ready for more- slick with your own arousal and feeling wired to come at the slightest touch. 
“Telling me she’s lonely...” his voice takes on a whining edge and you agree with a moan of your own, nodding rapidly. 
“And what should we do about that?” Yoongi hums. It takes you embarrassingly long to realize he's asking you. There are options here, you know, but the glint in Yoongi’s eye tells you there’s an answer he would be more partial to at the moment. 
“Your tongue,” the word stutters out of you. Yoongi smirks, runs his fingers over his top lip as if in thought. 
“Mine?” 
Your brain short circuits and you’re immediately shaking your head yes, and then no. His brows furrow as a genuine concern breaks his indifferent mask. You swallow around the lump in your throat. 
“Wan’ you and Hobi. Please?” Hoseok moans, and you’re sure that he’s stroking himself as you play this little game with Yoongi. 
Yoongi’s grin returns tenfold. “My needy little slut, huh? Just one can never be enough for that pussy. Always need more, and more.” You expect him to nudge Hoseok aside for room, but instead he circles you once more before sinking to his knees behind you. 
His hot breath ghosts against your ass and your mind instantly runs wild with realization. Your eyes must grow wide because Namjoon coos at you just before the tongues comes to life. 
Hoseok, who had clearly been waiting long enough, takes no preamble and dives right into your pussy, forcing your legs further apart. His tongue immediately presses against your clit, pulsing the nerves with little teasing flicks. Yoongi quickly follows suit, latching his mouth around your entrance and sucking. The room spins with pleasure and your thighs are already shaking before a minute has passed. Your hips have nowhere to go to escape the sensations, and Hoseok and Yoongi’s insistence on pushing further into you means that you can feel their tongues meeting in the middle; overlapping one another with the same fervor as a heated kiss. 
You can't help but look down your body, trying to catch any glimpse of the men working you over with their tongues. Hoseok’s full head of hair blocks your sight  slightly, but through the gaps of his limbs you see a slender, pale hand wrapped around his cock. It’s only now you realize Yoongi only has one hand anchored to your hip, the other presently preoccupied around Hoseok’s cock. You watch him run his thumb over the slit, collecting Hoseok’s sticky pearlescent precum before giving him several languid strokes in the same rhythm his tongue prods you open.
The sight is so erotic that tears spring forward as your hands flail, unsure of whose head to grasp. Your orgasm is just inches away, and you warn them both as such with a shake in your voice. Hoseok redoubles his efforts, the hinge of his jaw working sinfully to tease your clit with the same rapid circles he employs when he fingers you. 
The world blanks as you come, feeling the rush of wetness that gushes out of you being drunk up by Yoongi’s greedy mouth. Your stomach caves as you ride the feeling, tugging on Hoseok’s hair in a futile effort to get him off of your clit. 
He answers with a nip of his teeth and a hearty moan, the combination rocketing you off of the edge of oblivion again. There’s no way to stop the tears as they spill hot and heavy down your cheeks and collect at your chin. Your entire body trembles and if it weren’t for the strong grip of Namjoon’s hands, you surely would have face planted into the plush carpet. He welcomes the weight of your body falling into his, immediately wrapping you in his warmth as your body recovers from the sensations. 
He manages to get you out from between your lovers and cradles you into his desk chair. From here, you have a perfect view of Yoongi’s insistent hand on Hoseok’s cock and the sloppy kiss they devolved into once you left.
“You’re so fucking sexy, did you know that?” He brushes the sweat-damp hair from your shoulder and nibbles at the flesh in earnest. His cock twitches below you and your pussy trembles. He moans heartily and grabs handfuls of your breasts, flicking his thumbs over your sensitive nipples. He hums at the way your breathing increases. 
“Bet that tastes like you.” Even though you can't see his face, you know he’s referring to the sloppy mess of spit and come smearing between them. The idea makes you shiver with a new wave of arousal; and if you weren’t so used to going so many rounds with them you would be seriously worried about the state of your body. 
Hoseok tips his head back and lets out a rattling groan, the clear warning of his incoming release. You and Namjoon let out twin sighs at the sound, and Yoongi’s face curves into a devilish smile as he leans down to capture the tip of Hoseok’s cock in his mouth. It’s only seconds before Hoseok lets go, face flushing bright red as he comes. The instinctive stutter of his hips leaves several glossy streaks of cum across Yoongi’s mouth and chin. 
You squirm in Namjoon’s lap and he takes another heavy, indulgent grope of your tits; conveniently pressing you right against his hardened cock. The sound of Yoongi praising Hoseok becomes white noise as Namjoon angles his hips against you, brushing the head of his cock against your clit. Despite having come so many times already, your pussy has yet to be stretched to the limits you desire. 
“I-in, Joon...” you lift your hips enough that his cock catches on your entrance and he plunges forward immediately. He exhales in a burst against the back of your neck. 
“Sorry baby. Pretty little pussy just wanted to suck me in before I could ask.” He licks a line up the side of your neck, playing with the tender skin under your ear. “Are you ready? Feelin’ okay?” You have to commend him for stopping to ask: carrying concern for your well being and consent even though you can feel his cock throbbing inside you. 
“Yes!” You can't find it in you to say much more, but the animalistic grunt Namjoon makes as he pulls you down onto him makes you feel like you’re on cloud nine. 
The walls of your pussy stretch and accommodate him as he bucks his hips. His fingernails dig into the flesh of your breasts as your head lulls back onto his toned shoulders; relishing in the way your sweaty skin sticks together in the heat of your moment. You finally feel so full, finally able to indulge in the truly brain numb feeling of allowing one of your favorite men on the planet batter your pussy until he’s satisfied. 
“This greedy pussy can’t get enough attention, huh? Never enough mouths and cocks to keep you satisfied?” The force of his thrusts punch the air out of you but you nod in affirmation, mouth hanging open dumbly. “Fucking hell, baby. I’m gonna cum.”
You wish you could see the pinch in his eyebrows, the clench of his jaw; but for now you’ll relish in the fact you get to feel his cock twitch rapidly inside of you until he’s filling you. His hot cum rushes into you with a force that is testament to how long he waited for his release. He keeps you pressed over him until he’s fully drained, moaning your name at the sensitivity of his softening cock lodged inside your throbbing pussy. 
Your head spins and you have to close your eyes in an attempt to anchor yourself back to the earth. Namjoon shifts his hips and you can feel his hot release start to leak out of you.
“Sorry,” he kisses your ear gently as he slips out completely. You instinctively clasp your thighs together to keep his release inside you as Yoongi materializes before you. His bright red hair is mussed and his cheeks are a pleasant pink, as if he’d been in the sun for a few hours. 
If it wasn’t for the streaks of drying cum on his face, he would look angelic. 
Actually, you still think he does anyway. 
“As much as I love staring at you staring at me...” his hands pull at your waist, tugging you off the warmth of Namjoon’s lap. You go easily, feeling pleasant calm flowing through your veins as you stand before him on wobbly legs. He knots his fingers through your already tangled hair, tugging the strands until your neck is bared to him. It burns at the roots but you love it, darting your tongue out to lick at your lips as he gives another experimental tug. Your pussy throbs along with your scalp, and Yoongi moves close enough to you that you can feel his rigid length brush against your stomach.
The hardness of him against you sends your hips forward, grinding his cock between your bodies and relishing in the special kind of torture you’ve made for yourself- literal inches from allowing the drag of his cock against where you need him most. 
Yoongi voices his protest with a groan that reverberates through your chest, sending shockwaves of pleasure between your slick thighs. 
Your breath stutters as his plush lips work at your neck, teeth nipping into the sensitive skin with the intent of marking you black and blue. Sagging under his attention, you return the favor by winding your own fingers into his locks and tugging hard.
A new set of hands joins you, cresting over the curves of your ass. The citrusy scent of aftershave gives the hands away as belonging to Hoseok; who takes no qualms with spreading you open for his greedy eyes. You shutter as he reveals your ass and pussy to him and you shake your hips back at him playfully. He moans as your flesh jiggles under his touch and the sudden burn of a slap fills the room. Your ass cheek stings from the contact but you feel yourself get wetter, pushing back against his strong hand.
Hoseok answers with two more slaps in quick succession and the burn of the impact makes you keen.
“Look so good with your ass all red for me.” He trails his fingertips over the spot where he had just spanked you. Anticipation breezes through your veins as the simple touch leaves only to be quickly replaced by a renewed slap across the sensitive skin that connects your thigh and ass cheek.
Yoongi sucks up your moan with a swift kiss, shoving his tongue into your throat so you have no choice but to let him devour your sounds. You clutch at his shoulders pathetically as Hoseok skims a finger over your asshole.
Even though your eyes are already shut, they roll back into your head at the gentle push of his fingertip. You’re no stranger to the intrusion, but it makes your knees weak every time.
Yoongi relinquishes your mouth to peek around your body, although you have a suspicion he already knew what was happening. His lips are raw, bitten red from your passionate kiss as he cups your face between his hands.
“Gonna let Hoseok in your little ass? Have his cock fill you up?” You nod emphatically as the wet splatter of Hoseok’s spit slides over you, aiding his finger in the deeper glide you desire. He acts fast to add a second finger and sink down to his first knuckle, stretching them apart to open you further. Your chest heaves against Yoongi’s, and he kicks a sinful trail up the curve of your ear.
“You’re gonna look so pretty with his big cock in your ass, honey. Can’t wait to see you all stretched out for us…” you feel as if he’s lit you on fire.
Hoseok has managed to fit three fingers, and the delectable drag of him inside of you is making your head foggy. Pressure mounts in your lower stomach but feels annoyingly far away from satisfaction.
“Yoongi, H-hobi,” the men both snap to your attention; cooing at the watery tone of your voice. Hoseok’s fingers persist in stretching you as you try to work your way through your thoughts.
“I need you in my pussy, too,” hot tears come along with the plead you make to Yoongi, desperate for him to understand the aching need filling you. He chuckles and nods, reaching down between your bodies to stroke himself.
“No surprise that just one cock wouldn’t be enough for your little holes.” Pleasure burns through you as you nod your agreement; anything to get him into action as you feel Hoseok spit on you again.
“You were just on this cock, too. Real fucking slut needing more already.” Namjoon’s rumbling voice chimes in- apparently recovered from his most recent orgasm.
You catch sight of him rising from his desk chair like he’s been reborn: cock glossy with your arousal and a new stream of precum decorating the tip.
The three of them seem to move in an eerie tandem- something that would make you think they’d talked about this beforehand if you didn’t know any better. Hoseok removes his fingers, ignoring your protest as he pulls your body to the floor with him. His skin burns against your own as he positions your ass over his cock; both tortured by the close contact. Your legs are lifted under the knees and spread, baring your pussy to the room and your other boyfriends.
“Fucking can’t wait to wreck you, baby.” He slides you carefully until his cock is pressed tightly against your asshole, the feeling of him twitching there making you even more impatient.
Yoongi stands above you both for a second before kneeling- and you’re grateful for the plush, expensive carpet as you watch his pale knees land on it. His hand stays steady on his cock, stroking himself in little half motions that give away just how hard he’s trying to remain calm. His eyes wander over your shoulder to where Hoseok sits, and you can see them soften as he admires his boyfriend. A sickeningly sweet feeling of affirmed love sweeps through you, and you’re shocked again by just how lucky you’ve managed to become.
Yoongi’s face quickly morphs back into desire as his eyes catch on the way Hoseok’s cock is lodged against you, red and twitching to be inside. You can feel wetness leaking from your pussy downward, making a sticky mess between the two of you that sets you alight.
Not one to be forgotten, Namjoon hovers above you with his watchfully sexy eye, roaming every exposed inch of your skin. His jaw ticks as you rut against Hoseok.
“Go on, Hobi. Wanna see you fill our girl up.” The goading works, and Hoseok is quick to manipulate your body into the perfect position for slipping his cock into you.
Your eyes water at the push but you do your best to relax, focusing on the twin gazes of Yoongi and Namjoon as Hoseok’s cock pushes past your muscles. The stretch is slow and satisfying; and you take a sick pleasure in feeling the way Hoseok’s own body trembles under your own as he bottoms out.
Your mouth lulls open as he starts to bounce you on his cock. Your hands fall useless at your sides but Yoongi is quick to capture them, kissing each palm once before clasping them wholly. The lewd sound of your hips against Hoseok’s fills your head, and a string of incoherent moans is all you can offer them.
Namjoon’s hands find your face as he crouches to your side, giving Yoongi the room to shuffle closer to your waiting pussy.
Your entire body throbs as Yoongi lines up with your entrance and taps at your clit with the heavy head of his cock.
“Please,” you breathe out and cry at the same time: hot tears collecting in Namjoon’s big palms as they roll down your cheeks. The pressure of Yoongi entering you alongside Hoseok’s thrusts creates spots behind your eyes, and you feel your body floating into the overdrive you’ve come to adore. Namjoon grunts with you as you fall into pleasure, allowing your body to be jostled between Hoseok and Yoongi’s strong bodies. 
Namjoon kisses your nose in a deceptively sweet manner even though you know his hand is wrapped around his cock; mumbling little praises against your face as you barrel toward blinding pleasure. 
The boys work in a perfect rhythm so that you never feel empty. Their cocks occasionally meet, running against one another through the layer of your walls.
“Fucking feel so good when you’re so full.” Beads of sweat roll down Yoongi’s neck, highlighting his godly features.
Your stomach flips with arousal, pussy clenching around the lengths inside of you. Hoseok sinks his teeth into the vulnerable skin on your shoulder before he locks you in an embrace with the corded strength of his arms and holds you steady as you squirm. The string of moans that rips from him at your wiggling hints you toward his oncoming release just seconds before his hips still, filling you to the brim. 
“Hobi, fu-fuck!” Your whine is met with a choked sound from Yoongi, who can feel the warmth of Hoseok’s cum inside of you. He keens and leans forward, baring down his hips and meanly stroking his thumb against your swollen clit. His movements rock you back against Hoseok’s softening cock and he moans at the onslaught of sensation. 
It’s becoming harder to stay aware of all the sensations, your body happy to just float between feelings of pleasure without much thought. Your moans leave you with no coherence as Yoongi’s hips kick up yet another notch; rapidly plowing into your pussy. 
“Let me fill up this pussy for you. Make sure you’re nice and stuffed and used up and d-dripping for us-” his voice crescendos into a loud moan, strumming with insistence across your clit. 
Your vision blurs as the pleasure crescendos into a peak, ripping through your nerves. A loud whine rips from your raw throat as Yoongi empties inside of you, meeting the gush of your come with his own. Between his load and Hoseok’s you feel full and heavy, pussy sore but satisfied with the treatment of the night.
“Such a good girl,” Yoongi’s voice floats back to you as he rubs at your thighs softly as he pulls his softening cock out of you. The loss of him inside you makes you whine but you don’t have enough energy left to cross your legs and stop it. Namjoon replaces Yoongi’s hands, shoving your knees apart.
Your bared pussy throbs, leaking Yoongi’s cum onto Hoseok’s skin beneath you. Yoongi groans deep with satisfaction as he watches his release drip out of you, sliding down to meet the puddle of Hoseok’s cum underneath you.  “Fuck, I would fill you right back up again if I had the energy.” Yoongi’s chest heaves and Namjoon moans in agreement. 
“Joonie-” You gasp as you catch sight of his scrunched brow, the insistent twitch of his cock as his nears his edge again.
“What do you want, baby?” His eyes narrow in on you, likely trying to access the sensitivity you’re feeling. You glow under his attention and squirm against Hoseok’s body.
“Joon, please come on me...” Your bat your lashes and he grunts, tugging at the tip of his cock several times in quick succession before he finally comes. He coats your pussy in a new layer of cum, adding to the glistening white. 
Hoseok loosens his embrace and you crumble, all but falling off of his body onto the carpet below. The fabric is surprisingly cool against your heated skin, so you make no real effort to move as you feel the boys move and the gentle sounds of their hushed voices. Hoseok’s hand traces down your spine, forcing you to look his way. His dimple-ridden smile greets you first and you giggle, pouting your lips until he meets you in a kiss. 
It’s grounding- just left of magical as he nips at your bottom lip with a sense of genuine love that melts your heart from the inside out.  “Love you, Hobi.” The sentiment slips from between your locked lips and he smiles. 
“Hey, I love him too!” Namjoon crowds into your vision as well, placing a hand on Hoseok’s naked waist. They share a dimpled smile and then their own sweet kiss. 
Your eyes track Yoongi stalking back to the three of you, boxers back on, with a damp washcloth in his hand. As he gets closer you can see his chest has lost its flush and you smile. 
He says nothing as he nudges Hoseok and Namjoon aside to run the washcloth over your messy pussy. Even though the fancy washcloth is made of the softest possible material, the drag of the fibers is still sensitive on your pussy. 
“Sorry, baby.” Yoongi soothes you as he takes genuine care to clean you up, making sure that everything is gone. Namjoon pecks Yoongi’s temple as he works, and you can only imagine how messy the washcloth is as Yoongi wipes across your ass. 
“Your carpet-” you reach for Namjoon’s arm and trace the line of his bicep. “Sorry about your carpet, Joonie.” He coos and holds your chin between two fingers as he kisses you softly. 
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll just call a cleaner...” His eyes sparkle with mischief. “Definitely not the worst mess to have on this carpet.” Your face flushes in embarrassment despite how messy the whole night was. 
Hoseok lets out a hearty laugh and claps Namjoon on the shoulder. “He just means that nothing will be worse than the time he spilled his leftover chicken parm on the floor...there was sauce alllll the way over-” 
“Oh, shut up!” Namjoon flushes but his hearty laugh gives away his amusement as you finally find it in yourself to sit up, your muscles stretching out. Two pairs of hands come to steady your form and you smile at the protective feeling that washes over you. Even after a long, strenuous night trapped between them, they make you feel nothing short of worshipped after you’re all spent. 
“We gotta stop fucking on the floor,” you groan at the tightness in your neck and Yoongi nods; offering you two hands to get you to your knees. You know that he's immediately going to lead you to the bathroom, and you can’t complain about the amount of love you feel spiraling in your chest.
“You’re right. My poor knees can’t take anymore of this.” Yoongi agrees. You scoff in fake indignation as you travel to the bathroom with him, his arms looped around your naked stomach as he walks behind you as if he’s worried you would spontaneously fall backwards.
“Oh, Yoongi. You’ll never stop getting on your knees, even if Namjoon gets a couch in his office.” He pinches your thigh but stays quiet, agreeing with a sly grin that stays between the two of you. 
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effortandmore · 9 months
Text
the sleeping hours | knj x f!reader
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summary: namjoon thinks there must be infinite versions of the universe, and in every one he’s known, he’s meant to love you. 
pairing: namjoon x f!reader
rating: explicit (18+ please)
genre: fluff, smut, angst
au: okay. so this is canon-compliant but also maybe a little bit of a time-travel/multiverse au
warnings/tags: here we go... time travel (kind of), discussions of war, descriptions of famine, talks of anarchy/revolution, descriptions of ww2 germany and nazis, minor character death (not a tannie), implied gun violence, the japanese occupation of korea, sex worker!namjoon, soldier!namjoon, architect!namjoon, idol!namjoon, spy!reader, namjoon has a big dick (ofc), mentions of blood... smut, including: biting, unprotected sex, sex work (this is not the unprotected sex), oral sex (f!receiving), a little bit of cumplay... idk i think that's all but honestly it's not as weird as it sounds i promise
word count: ~12k
a/n: i have wanted to write a songfic for "here i dreamt i was an architect" by the decemberists for... years now. and with my three month vacation from work, i've finally done it! listening to the song will help this make more sense, but essentially there are three verses, and they start like this: "here i dreamt i was a soldier," "here i dreamt i was an architect," & "and in spain i was a spaniard." so, i thought it would be fun to turn that into a story about namjoon and reader across all these different universes. my research for this fic was completely unhinged, and i'm sure i still got some things wrong. if you need translations for any of the dutch, german, or spanish in this, lmk but i think it's pretty readable given context. i hope you like it, but even if you don't, i'm glad i wrote it. thank you so so so much to @ugh-yoongi who assured me this was not too unhinged for the locals—ily and i appreciate you
read on ao3
Namjoon always tells people he doesn’t have dreams, but it’s a lie… Sort of.
If these are dreams, he doesn’t know how billions of people aren’t talking about them like they’re magical experiences, can’t fathom why so many people still don’t believe in multiverse theory.
Lying about it seems infinitely easier than trying to explain it to people. His “dreams,” if that’s what they are, seem so real. He can smell the scents, he can feel the rain and the blood and the orgasm that courses through him when he inevitably, in every single one, finds a version of you. When he wakes up, he can feel the phantom pain, feels like his skin’s just barely dried out from a shower, feels loose and lazy with the pleasure he’d felt while he was asleep. 
So, he says he doesn’t dream, because he’s halfway convinced they’re actually happening, and he has absolutely no clue how to explain that to anyone. He thinks there must be infinite versions of the universe, infinite versions of him. At first, he thought maybe it was a past-lives sort of thing, but he’s lived parallel paths on different parts of the planet during the same time frames. Or, he’s dreamt that he has, anyway… maybe they’re dreams. Maybe not. What he’s sure of, though, is that you must be out there in the universe he lives in—you must exist outside of this near fugue state where he always finds you. If you’re on the streets of Germany during the war, if you’re in Andalucia dancing the flamenco and catching his eye on every twirl… If you’re fleeing with him to Jeju as more and more Japanese soldiers encircle your small farm town… If you’re all of those places, he knows you must be here, too. 
There must be infinite versions of the universe, and in every one he’s known, he’s meant to love you. 
Every dream is different, but the love he feels for you? It’s always the same, and it goes like this: 
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Birkenau, Germany — April, 1942
He comes to, and he’s lying in a cot. It’s dark. It would be pitch black, except there’s a crack of light on the floor that’s muted and warm-looking even though the air around him still carries a bit of leftover winter chill. Somehow, he knows there’s a coal shortage this spring because of the war. There’s an everything shortage, really. No coal, no clothes, no food… He can’t think of a time he’d eaten anything but potatoes in days… Namjoon can’t think of anything, really. It’s strange, his memories feel dull, rounded around the edges and blurred out, everything just slightly out of reach. Maybe it’s lack of sleep, maybe it’s hypothermia (he’s a little dramatic), maybe it’s hunger; he doesn’t know. Doesn’t want to know, because there’s not much to be done about whatever it is. Knowing the future doesn’t always mean you can change it, he thinks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 
The clothes he is wearing are stiff—they make it hard for him to bend his elbow to reach his own face. There’s a worn crease in his right sleeve from saluting, dirt that will never scrub out on his lapels… his badges and patches do a poor job of covering the wear and tear. Although his brain isn’t fully awake, the thoughts still cloudy, two are clear: he is ready for this war to be over and he is terrified that he is a little in love with the woman lying next to him. 
If someone asked him how he got here, to Birkenau, Germany in the middle of the spring in 1942, he couldn’t tell them (a consequence of for some reason not remembering anything concrete prior to this week at the moment—just feelings and sensations and language and you). He feels as if he doesn’t belong at all and at the same time, as if he’s always existed right here. 
He teases you awake slowly. Whispers sweet nothings to you in a language he finds himself surprisingly fluent in—it’s not his native one. He doesn’t know if it’s yours, either, but he knows you like hearing his voice. Remembers how you ask him to tell you stories of his home, how you hum softly along with the folk songs he sings to you when he thinks you’re almost asleep in his arms. He knows he likes the noises you make as you start to come to, knows you need a soft re-entry into wakefulness or else you’re a little off for the rest of the day. 
You’d both fallen asleep after what some people would call lunch, although the persistent pit in Namjoon’s stomach would argue that. It’s hard to have energy when you can’t really eat, so the two of you do your best to conserve it. 
Tonight, though, tonight he wants to be special. The carnival is in Birkenau this week, maybe longer, but he won’t know. He’ll leave soon, onto the next base, the next battle. It’s a miracle he’s able to go tonight, being a foreign soldier here is dangerous and the demands on him are high. He wears his uniform while he sleeps to stay warm, but doesn’t dare wear it in this town outside of this private and safe space that you’ve carved out for him. It’s been going on for a while, this sneaking away to be with you. There’s another soldier, Seokjin, on his base, who always covers for him. Namjoon doesn’t know how, it’s one of the fuzzy things he can’t figure out. Regardless, he’s here with you now and he knows he’s always grateful to his fellow soldier. And here, he’s someone different. He’s not Namjoon the soldier, he’s Namjoon who loves you, who will give up almost anything to be with you. 
Except the one thing you ask him to. 
He may be grateful to escape for a while, but he is duty-bound—loyal to his country, to the cause. He is, above everything, a soldier, and that cannot change. The Remington on the cheap bedside table is his best friend, and a reminder that this between you is dangerous, that it has a time limit. 
And you? You have to leave, too. He knows it, you know it. It’s not safe for you here, probably just as dangerous as it is for him. 
You don’t wear a uniform, you don’t carry a gun (often), but you move under the cover of the night and you deal in secrets you’re not supposed to know. The work you do is just as important as his—sometimes he thinks it’s probably even moreso. He admires you, adores you, thinks you’re brave and beautiful and brilliant. Maybe he thinks some of those things because of how dangerous you are, because of the risks you’re willing to take. Being with him, hiding him here with you is a big one. 
Beside him, you stir. Your voice is a melody, always lilting, tumbling from one word to the next. “Love you, Namjoon. What time is it, baby?” Later, he won’t know why he never thinks it’s strange that you weave words across several languages. Maybe that’s just how all spies are; and that’s what you are, at the core of it, isn’t it?
“Is it time?” you ask into the darkness. 
“Yes. I need to change and then we can go.” 
“Do you think we’ll find something to eat there?” 
Namjoon smiles even though you can’t see him in the dark. “We will. Sausages and sauerkraut, I’m sure.” He waits for you to make the gagging sound he knows you’re about to. 
You do. “I hate German food,” you complain. “Can’t wait to get out of here once and for all.” 
“They’ll have schnitzel,” he says, trying to make you laugh.
“Germans and their pork,” you say dismissively, “swine for swine.” 
“They’re not all bad.” He means it, but it sounds a little weak when he says it. It’s hard to see the forest for the trees, sometimes. Doesn’t help that the both of you see the worst of people… that the both of you sometimes are the worst of people. 
“Hmm…” you hum, he knows you agree with him. “I know, I'm sorry. I’m just tired. And don’t want to leave you.” 
“I know.” 
“You could come with me. Run away with me, Namjoonie.” 
When you say it, he almost believes it could work. Knows it wouldn’t, knows you’d both end up dead or worse, knows he could never go home, never see his mother again. Knows it would break his heart to bear witness to the secrets you have to keep, to the lives you take. 
He never responds, just lumbers off of the cot and strips his uniform off, trades it for the street clothes you keep here for him. They’re ill-fitting, cheap and scratchy. He loves them because they smell like you, smell like the soap you carry with you from France—lavender from Provence—the one luxury you allow yourself. 
The two of you walk hand in hand through back alleys and quaint cobblestoned neighborhoods, making your way to the carnival. He hears the barkers getting louder the closer you get, promising fun and winnings and love and only happy fortunes told. In reality, there are no happy fortunes here, and you both know that. But Namjoon’s happy to give into the fantasy of it all, just for tonight. Just to see you smile. He’d do anything to see you smile. Except…
“Win me a prize,” you coo sweetly. It’s futile, since you never take anything with you, and later tonight (or very early in the morning), you will leave Birkenau for good—a mission needs completing, and dead or alive, you won’t be back here again. 
“Whatever you want, jagiya.” 
You bounce on your heels in excitement and drag him to a booth, one offering cheap stuffed birds. There are swans, peacocks, parrots, ducks… He doesn’t know what you’re drawn by, but he’ll knock over as many milk jugs as he has to get you what you want. 
“My strong soldier,” you whisper in his ear after he knocks the top three over. It makes him grin, makes him show you his dimples. He loves you so much, loves how you tease and bait him with your words—then with your body in the privacy of your hideaway. Loves your confidence and your unwavering belief. Loves your conviction. “You can do it, Namjoon.” 
He does. 
The final three jugs topple off the ledge. With you by his side, he thinks he can do anything. He knows he can. 
“Wähle eins,” the barker shouts at him, Dutch accent thick in his German.
“De pauw,” you answer immediately in his native tongue, pointing to the top shelf.
The man pulls one of the blue birds down and hands it to you with a smile. You can charm anyone, Namjoon thinks. A skill you’ve honed doing the work you do, he supposes. “Voor de dame,” the huckster says with a bow and a flourish of his hand. 
You giggle as you take it. Namjoon’s enamored with you. 
As the two of you wander (you clutching the peacock tightly under your arm), he watches as you make friends with a fortune teller and charm free pieces of chicken schnitzel from a mustached French man. Your greatest feat is sneaking the two of you onto the ferris wheel. Namjoon’s in awe of how you move—though sleight of hand is usually what he catches you at, you’re not as skilled a pickpocket as you are a liar—how you can weave in and out of a crowd unnoticed, how you can blend in with any surrounding, any language, any group… It’s a skill he wishes he possessed, too. He’s too large, a little lumbering, a little awkward in his long limbs made to feel longer as he loses muscle to months of being malnourished. But somehow, you make him nimble, you make him invisible to everyone but you. He wants to chase that feeling forever, wants to bottle it up and uncork it again when you’re gone, when he’s so desperate with the want of you that he’s got no other solace. 
Bellies unusually full, legs tired, and peacock secured, he leads you back to your basement apartment. He pulls you along to follow a different path to return than the one you took there—a trick he’s learned from you. Don’t give people the opportunity to see your face twice. 
It’s still dark, and you have no electricity, no oil for your lamps, so Namjoon makes love to you by memory. 
He feels so foggy, but this he knows how to do, like he’s done it a million times and will do it a million more until you and he become different versions of the same thing. Maybe you already are. 
Slowly, using time you don’t have, he undresses you. He’s careful with the buttons of your blouse after he slides your cardigan off of your shoulders. Takes time to press his nose into the skin of your neck once it’s exposed, to try and remember the way that you smell, that lavender soap and the iron of the hard bathwater and the danger that rolls off of you in waves. 
When he lets his arms drop from your body, you walk backward toward the cot, unlacing your skirt as you go. Namjoon can’t see you well, but he hears the sounds of the cotton strings being pulled through the gussets, the soft swoosh of it hitting the floor when you shimmy out of it. 
“Come here, Namjoonie,” you whisper. He would, even if you didn’t ask. Wouldn’t be able to help himself. Always pulled to you like a magnet. 
“Yes, jagiya,” he breathes, now trembling fingers removing his own clothes as he moves. When he finally can feel your skin under his hand, he’s fully undressed, thinks you are, too. Lets his fingertips explore your limbs just to confirm. 
You straddle him on the cot, press your thumbs into the meat of his thighs and tell him he’s brave, powerful, that you’re so lucky he’s chosen you. But he knows it wasn’t a choice. Can’t explain it, but he’s always existed for you, would always find you. Couldn’t choose anyone else if he wanted to. 
He doesn’t. 
The way you kiss him feels like forever, but he knows better. Chases something deeper and messier as his heart rate rises. Knows you don’t have time to draw it out, knows he won’t be able to be as gentle with you as you deserve. No one’s ever gentle with you, is what you always tell him. People who know you know how dangerous you are and they treat you accordingly. Except Namjoon. Namjoon who reveres you and knows you and he are cut from the same cloth—the one where you need to fight for what’s right at any cost. It doesn’t make you dangerous to people who don’t deserve the battle scars you dole out, he thinks. It makes you a hero. To him, you are a lionheart. 
Your palms press into his chest above his own heart and you sink onto his length. Every time you’ve been together seems to bleed together for him, but he knows you know exactly how to move to bring him bliss, knows you feel like the god who seems to have abandoned you made the two of you for one another. 
It’s a risk, but he reaches up to pull the thick curtain back just a few millimeters. Wants the sliver of light to illuminate the tendons in your neck with your head thrown back as you ride him. Wants to see the peaks of your nipples, the smooth skin over your ribcage, the mole you have right on the plateau of your collarbone. Wants to let his eyes roll back in his skull, that’s how good you feel, but can’t let himself pull his attention from your body. 
“Come here,” he says quietly, wraps his spindly arms around you and pulls you down so your chest is flush with his. “Be with me,” he almost begs, “look at me, love.” 
Your hands cup his face, and his guide your hips on top of his. 
“I want to feel like this forever,” he thinks he hears you say, and Namjoon can see a tear dripping down your cheek before you lean in to press your lips to his. He licks at your mouth, gets you to open for him, plays melodies along your tongue with his. 
He thinks they’re love songs. 
He hopes you know. 
You’re all tight heat around him, and your nipples brush his chest in time with his tongue brushing yours. Your lavender scent is a balm, your tears drip onto his cheeks from above, and your breaths come shallow and labored as he fucks into you. 
“I think I’ll love you forever,” he says. 
“Mijn schat...” You whisper, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone and smiling the sad kind of smile. Quietly, you tell him that you want to feel him, beg him to move.
He knows he shouldn’t, but he doesn’t stop. Thrusts into you, lets the sound of his skin against yours get louder and filthier. He knows he should stop. Can’t make himself. “Are you sure?” he asks, but it’s probably too late. 
You’re nodding anyway, letting out a sweet little moan when his fingers find your clit and he comes, deep inside of you. Feels like a claim he shouldn’t be making. Gets one back from you just moments later when you squeeze around his softening cock, shuddering with your release above him. 
Against his chest, you breathe, and he waits for the moment when your inhales align with his. It’s going to be the last time you share the same air, he thinks. 
Your work tonight will be messy. He doesn’t ask what that means, thinks he already knows. Eyes the Remington in his periphery and you give him a tight-lipped confirmation. Yes, you have things you have to do. Yes, they’re worth sacrificing your life if you have to. 
Namjoon spends a lot of time wondering about the balance between sacrifice and selfishness. 
Never seems to decide where he sits on the spectrum. 
Lithe like you are, he should barely feel it when you climb off of him, but it’s a crushing weight. Feels like his heart might be melting, like his lungs can’t expand anymore.
Once you’re dressed—in clothes he’s never seen before, those usually given to people of a different gender, maybe a different time—he watches you toss your skirt into the hearth first, then the clothes you’ve been lending him for your trysts. He watches you find the smallest vial of kerosene and some tinder you’d been collecting and add those, too. It’s as if he can see you in your full vibrancy now: focused on the mission, focused on destroying the you that has existed in this space, the him that has loved you. 
The fire burns more brightly than he could have imagined after all the time you’ve spent together in the dark. It allows him to see the hope in your eyes when you lean down to kiss him one last time. Allows him to see the tears you no longer let fall when you hand him the peacock, press it close to him so he can hold it like a child.
“Why the peacock?” he asks when you turn to leave. It’s the only question he can think of that he suspects you’ll give him an answer to. 
“Immortality, Joonie. You know, the Greeks thought the flesh of the peacock would never decay? Perfect and enduring even in death.” 
“Are you the peacock or am I?” 
“I guess we’ll find out,” you say as you heave open the door.
He shudders with the cold gust and wishes he knew what to say. Wishes he could choose you over his gun. Wishes you would choose him over yours. 
“Until next time, Joonbug,” you say against the wind. 
You pull the door hard behind you, and when it punches shut, Namjoon is startled out of his dream. 
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Seoul, South Korea — Present Day
“You gotta stop falling asleep in here, hyung.” Jeongguk’s voice is almost drowned out by Seokjin’s laugh. 
“I covered for you at the last meeting, told them you were chasing down an idea… don’t interrupt a genius… creative flow… you know.” 
Namjoon rubs his eyes and sits up. Of course he’s not in Germany during World War two. Of course he’s in his studio in Gangnam, and apparently he’s slept through a meeting. 
He hates these dreams because he feels so thrown off when he wakes up. The pain of losing you always sticks with him for a while afterwards, makes his whole world tilt about one degree. Not enough to change anyone but him, but more than enough to notice.
He loves the dreams because he gets to be with you—tries not to let that thought be concerning. 
“What’s that smell?” he asks, still half asleep. 
“What smell?”
“Mmm… you know, the lavender smell.” 
“Hyung, are you having a stroke?”
“I think people who have strokes smell toast,” Jin says. 
“Nevermind,” Namjoon sighs as he gets off the couch. “Thanks for covering for me, hyung.” 
“You owe me now.”
“Sure, yeah. Of course.” Agreeing is always easier than arguing with Jin. 
Namjoon’s awake enough now to notice the looks that Jeongguk and Seokjin are passing between each other. He knows they know something’s going on with him, sees how they adjust the ways they move around him after these dreams, when he’s out of sorts and halfway out of commission for a half a day or so. It’s not just them, either. Jimin has tried to talk to him about it, but didn’t get very far. Hoseok knows Namjoon’s had a few bad dreams, but that’s the extent of it.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell them, it’s more that he doesn’t know how to explain it without sounding like he’s completely batshit. Doesn’t know how to tell them that he knows you’re real, that he believes in you the same way he believes in the existence of his sister or his best friend, Heeyoung. It’s part of the problem, really. Because every time he has one of these dreams, he finds himself actually looking for you. In real life. In Seoul. In every city they have a show in. Thought he saw you once in Switzerland, but was too afraid to get close enough to know for sure… Still isn’t sure if he regrets that or not.
It really messes with him when he’s in a city that he’s dreamed you in. Once, in Sevilla, he was too fucked up about it to even leave the hotel room. Tried to explain to one of the managers that something bad had happened last time he was there, but it got complicated when Namjoon couldn’t explain when exactly that was. 
“What’s on your mind, Namjoonie?” Seokjin’s tone is gentler now, cautious. 
“Spain.” 
Another look of concern between Jeongguk and their hyung. 
“Do you want to talk about it?” Jeongguk asks softly. “Sometimes it helps to talk about things—you taught me that.” 
He can’t help but smile at that. Caught in his own words. And he’s so tired of this, so tired of feeling like no one will understand… he’s tempted. To be honest, he could probably talk about it with Taehyung. Maybe that’s what he should do, he thinks. Tae would listen, wouldn’t judge him. But maybe Jeongguk and Seokjin wouldn’t either. Namjoon has assuredly done more questionable things than possibly believe in a ghost. Or whatever you are. 
He sits back down on the couch. “I’ve been having these weird dreams,” he says. 
“About Spain?” Jeongguk and Seokjin find seats to settle into, too. 
“About a girl, mostly.” 
“Want to tell us about her? Is she Spanish? Is she someone you know?”
“I’m not sure,” Namjoon admits. “She’s whoever I want her to be, I think.” 
Seokjin’s eyebrows almost lift off his face. “Okay, Namjoonie. Why don’t you tell us about these dreams?” 
Namjoon nods. “Well, the one I just woke up from, we were in Germany.”
“All of us?” Jeongguk asks. 
“No, I don’t think so. Just her and me. I think hyung maybe, too, but I never saw him in the dream.” He gestures to Seokjin. 
“But you have these dreams often?” 
“Yeah.” 
“And one of them was in Spain?”
Namjoon’s not sure what they’ll think of him once he tells them, but maybe he doesn’t have to give everything away, he decides. Maybe he can just tell him about one of the dreams and see what they think. 
“Yeah, I can tell you about it if you want.” 
Jeongguk nods eagerly and Jin does, too. He supposes he can’t back out now. 
“Alright… well, here’s what I remember…” 
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Andalucia, Spain — Summer, 1913
The heat is relentless. 
Namjoon sweats so much under normal conditions—this is borderline torture. If it were up to him, he’d be back in Sevilla with you, content in the small pension you both scrape together rent for every week. It’s shaded by the orange trees surrounding it, feels safe and private and cool, and most importantly, it’s yours. 
Ronda is less forgiving. Maybe because he doesn’t know it as well, isn’t sure who might be someone to know and who might just be pretending. He’s done this for long enough that he thinks he has a pretty good sense for it, but he’s still sucked into having his time wasted on occasion. Wouldn’t mind it so much except it’s time spent away from you. 
Blas Infante has been yelling on the steps for a while. His throat should be raw, but the adrenaline of agitating the people of Andalucia keeps him fresh, voice ringing clearly through the square. Namjoon has been watching the wealthiest in the crowd drift away, paying attention to where they’re going, making sure he’s got a line on which bars and cafes will be the best to move on to. The time is about right, he thinks. They’ll be a few drinks in and soon the wider crowd will disperse. Wants to make sure he can find a seat at the bar next to someone rich, attractive if possible. If they’re a little desperate that’s even better. 
They probably all will be given the way the political winds are shifting in Andalucia.
As he turns from the crowd, he hears Padre de la Patria Andaluza shout, “the moment has come for the privileged to die!” The remaining crowd roars like the lions on their flags, angry and proud. He agrees with them—as long as he gets his money first. 
When he slides onto the barstool, he makes sure to order his own drink first. Chilled palo cortado says he’s from around here but maybe a little down on his luck, otherwise, he’d be drinking Fundador. 
It’s strange, he knows he grew up poor, but he can’t remember any of the details. It’s as if his whole life before knowing you is completely out of focus. He feels the resentment, though, the frustration of knowing there’s more for the taking if you have the right family, the right education, the right skin color. 
But he’s older now and while it’s there, it’s in the background. Because he knows how to get his share, knows now that it’s also for the taking if you have a nice smile, a silver tongue, and a willingness to do whatever it takes to succeed—including changing your definition of success. Including sacrificing the things you believe in the most. 
Good thing the only thing Namjoon believes in anymore is you, and you’re willing to stick by his side no matter what. 
She’s not anywhere near as attractive to him as you are. She’s round in all the places he likes—soft hips, soft stomach, thick ass, but there’s something with her face. Too drawn, a little gaunt in a way that doesn’t suit her. It’s age maybe, she’s got to be thirty years older than him. 
Age is another one of those tricky things that feels a little elusive to him. 
He thinks he’s around nineteen and she’s probably fifty. Doesn’t care, really, as long as she’s got pesetas. 
She does. A lot of them. 
He fucks her slow in a room above the bar and calls her “Princesa” because she asks him to. Because she’ll pay him more if he does, because he knows how women like her work. It’s been quiet between them since he took her upstairs. They don’t talk about her husband, her children… They don’t talk about you. 
She shifts a little below him and it almost hurts. He’s not used to sex so dry like this—makes it hard to imagine it’s you beneath him. Digs his thumbs into the flesh at her hips and tries to picture you instead, but her noises aren’t as sweet as yours, her skin isn’t as supple. 
At least, he thinks as he thrusts over and over to her guttural cries, he’s doing this for you. For the future the two of you have dreamed of since you were basically kids and he would throw stones at your window after dark to sneak a piece of your attention. He’s fairly certain you almost have enough saved up to escape, to get away from your father and brother who have never once approved of Namjoon. In their eyes, it’s bad enough he’s a foreigner, but then he has the audacity to be poor in addition. 
He wants to give you a good life. There’s still a part of him that thinks someday he can give you an honest one, as well. There’s a part of him that hopes he’s not only his mistakes like your father thinks, that he’s capable of so much more than the world has allowed him to give so far. He thinks you see it, too. He’s pretty sure that’s why you stay. 
As the work drags on, he realizes he’s made a critical mistake—he didn’t ask her how much she’d had to drink, didn’t think to slip the bartender a note to water it down a bit. Feels like she’s never going to come, and he can’t leave a job undone. God, he just wants to get home to you. Wants to take a lavender-laced bath with you and cleanse himself of this sin and the thousand others he’s committed before it. Wants to start on new ones with you. 
The thought of you: in your orange grove, smelling of sun-dried linen and laughing while he chases you… it gives him the will to keep going. 
Ironic that his love for you is the reason his cock is buried in someone else. 
Eventually, she comes, and he lies and says he does, too. Makes quick work of ridding himself of the condom with his back to her. This isn’t the first time he’s lied. Would he sound like too much of a romantic if he said he’s only ever had an orgasm with you? 
For tonight, his patron seems satisfied, romanticism or not. She asks to see him again the following week and he tells her all about how he’d love to, but he just doesn’t have the money, see? So, if she wants to see him, it wouldn’t be possible unless…
She’s more generous than he’s expected. What she gives him to come back to Ronda will pay for a month of your pension. He shoves it in his pockets and tells her he’s going to get them another bottle of sherry from the bar. 
When he slinks out into the finally cool night air, all he feels is relief. He’s going to make it in time to hop the late train back to Sevilla, back to you.
He looks up and down the cobblestone street, taking a second to remember which direction he came from. Notices a man watching him, seems like it should matter, but all that matters is getting back to you. 
Namjoon counts his earnings under the moonlight as the train rumbles through the countryside. It’s enough. He’ll need to count what’s at your home to be absolutely sure, but he thinks it’s enough to get you out of there. You dream of Valencia—of a different kind of orange grove, of thick and salty sea air, of vacations in Madrid or Barcelona, strolling the markets and church grounds. 
He looks out the window at the moon and thinks of how bright your face will be when he tells you the good news. He looks at the stars and hopes they will guide you both faithfully to a better life. 
The train pulls into the station at Sevilla several hours later. Namjoon feels like the time just slipped away, doesn’t quite know how he passed it. Maybe the wine was stronger than he’d first thought… 
It’s quiet in Sevilla at this time of night, but he doesn’t pay too much attention to the bustle in front of him, the same man from outside the bar in Ronda rushing up the road ahead of him. Must be in a hurry to get somewhere—Namjoon can relate, he’s in a hurry to get home to you. His bag is weighed down from the coin he’s bringing home, but oddly enough, he feels lighter than ever knowing he may never have to give himself to someone that isn’t you again. 
It’s freedom.
After years of conning and scraping and scratching to climb out of the poverty he’s known, he finally has hope for something better. Because of you, because you gave him something to believe in and to fight for. 
Tomorrow, he’ll take you to the gardens at the Alcazar, and amongst the flowers and the peacocks you love, he’ll give you the news—tell you it’s finally time. Maybe you can even take the train to the sea that night. 
He loves you so much, owes you everything because he gets all that he needs from your company and your faith in him. 
As he draws nearer to you, dirt road narrowing as he approaches the pension, he hears raised voices. Yours and someone else’s. Maybe more. It’s all he needs to take off running, can’t fathom why you’d need to be fighting with anyone in the orchard after midnight. 
“Namjoon!” you exclaim when you see him sprinting up the road. 
He can hear the fear in your voice, and it only makes him come to you faster. “What is it? What’s going on?” he calls. And then he sees them: your father and your brother, gesturing wildly and yelling. 
“Mija, you know what he’s doing in Ronda? How disgusting he is? How he’s making a fool out of you, making fools out of our family?”
You’re calmer than they deserve, standing your ground with your arms crossed over your chest, full skirts whipping around you in the breeze. You look brave, intimidating, and more beautiful than ever. 
Namjoon starts to understand, realizes he should have known something wasn’t right, that the man in two places would be a problem. Hadn’t let himself believe your father would have had him followed, but why wouldn’t he? 
“You know nothing,” you snap at your father. “Mind your own business, old man. I’m not your family anymore. He’s my family now.” 
Namjoon joins you in front of the pension, stands by your side, wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your temple. “I think you should leave,” he says to the men facing you. 
Your father spits in his direction, your brother makes rude gestures with both hands. They call him a whore, call him disgusting, claim he’s giving you diseases and ruining you for the god they say you need to meet one day. 
(They still believe, Namjoon never has, and you think you already know god—that he lives in the way the birds call a bright greeting to the morning sun and the flowers bend to offer the bees what they both need to live.)
“Leave,” you say firmly. “We’re leaving for Valencia soon—you’ll never have to see us again. I’ll change my name, no one will know the disgrace you think we’ve brought to the family. Just let us be.” 
And if Namjoon thought the crowd in Ronda was loud, he hadn’t yet had the screams of your father to compare it to. His face is a violent red, his whole body shakes with his anger, and Namjoon feels scared for the first time in a long time. The arm he has around your waist tightens as your brother pulls a revolver from the back of his trousers. 
You are ever courageous—Namjoon can hear your racing heart, but you betray nothing, staring down your brother with iron conviction and pressing in tightly to the man at your side.
“No one will take you from us!” your father yells.
The barrel is pointed straight at the two of you. Namjoon can see your brother’s finger shaking and it’s as if he knows what’s about to happen. He can’t let it, would sacrifice anything for you, already has given up his body and his soul to you in some ways. He’s prepared to do it again. Would never make a choice that wasn’t to protect you. Loves you like you’re oxygen, like he needs you to survive. 
He’s nothing without you, but you can be something without him. So, he moves.
And as Namjoon twists to pull you behind him, a single shot rings out through the Andalucian night, louder than a firecracker. 
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Seoul, South Korea — Present Day
“And then what?” Jeongguk asks, leaning so far in he looks like he’ll topple at any second. 
“I don’t know,” Namjoon shrugs, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “That’s when I woke up. I had the window open and I think there was a car accident or one backfiring or something. Startled me awake.” 
“That’s so romantic,” Jeongguk sighs. “Don’t you think, hyung?”
Seokjin nods along. “How often do you dream about her?”
“Every few weeks… for a couple of years now.”
“Shit.”
Namjoon explains how he can’t stop thinking about you for days after the dreams, how you always look different in them but he knows it’s you every time. There’s something in the way you speak to him, in the way you know his mind, in the way you move across each time and space so self-assured and brave and admirable. And then the words just keep coming. He tells them about how he always dreams of you existing at night—never in the morning. Never had a dream where the two of you have made it through the night and woken up together in love with no tragedy befalling you. He almost cries when he tells them how badly he wants to find you, how he knows you must be real, a person he’s just yet to meet… Says he’s not sure he believes in something like soulmates, but that sometimes his chest actually aches with the need to know you, to be with you. Tells them that you’re never perfect in any of his dreams, but you’re perfect for him: a partner in crime, a lover, an intellectual rival, a battleground ally, just always by his side making him sharper and better and happier. Tells them that all he wants is the chance to wake up next to you just once, sunlight and joy and no crisis clapping him awake. Tells them how lonely he is in the mornings. 
When he finally trails off, out of ways to explain that each time he dreams of you, the desire to find you seems that much more urgent, Seokjin and Jeongguk are speechless. Jin looks like the fish he loves, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. Jeongguk is a little teary-eyed and his hand is rubbing careful circles between Namjoon’s shoulder blades. 
“You have to find her, hyung,” Jeongguk says softly. 
“I know.”
“We’ll help you find her, I promise.” 
Namjoon thinks the commitment from Jeongguk is sweet, but doesn’t know how they could possibly help. You look different in every dream, a different voice, name, language… It’s an impossible task made even more challenging by the fact that you probably don’t actually exist. Just a figment of his imagination his brain has made to give him some stress relief, some friendship. He says as much, and he can tell Seokjin agrees with him, but Jeongguk is insistent. At the very least, it’s a little comforting that he’s told them what he feels like is probably his weirdest, deepest secret, and they didn’t laugh at him, didn’t march him upstairs to the company therapist. 
After that day, Namjoon feels a little bit better about everything. Better enough that he doesn’t dream about you for a few weeks, starts to forget to look for you in the face of every person he passes. The best part is that he’s really able to focus on their upcoming tour, and by the time he boards the plane to another continent with the rest of the members, he wonders if he’ll ever dream about you again. 
It’s been long enough that he misses you a little bit, as ridiculous as it sounds. He doesn’t mention that part to Jeongguk or Seokjin.
They touch down in a new city, and Namjoon rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He’d fallen asleep on the flight—no dreams. It’s early, but they don’t get the day to themselves. They’ll eat a snack in the cars on the way to the venue, run a short rehearsal for blocking and then Namjoon will do some foreign-language interviews from the hotel. He runs a hand through his hair and pulls his mask up, trying to mentally prepare himself a little bit for the remainder of the day. And then he smells it, as he steps into the airport, a gentle lavender scent that’s so familiar he thinks he might be imagining it. 
Namjoon stops in his tracks right outside the gate and starts looking. It’s practically instinctual at this point, head on a swivel trying to spot you. It’s so ridiculous and he knows it. But there’s just something… it’s like he knows you’re here. 
Unfortunately, it’s a terrible place to be having a crisis, and he’s literally knocked out of his search when another passenger on their phone runs right into the back of him. 
“Fuck, sorry,” you say, only glancing up from your phone for a second.
Namjoon doesn’t look at you, just flushes with embarrassment as if anyone could possibly know what he’s thinking. Keeps his head down, says, “no problem,” and tells himself that the weird pit in his stomach is nothing and the smell he’s so drawn to is in his head. The you of his dreams isn’t possibly in this airport in a city on the other side of the world. 
He tries to shake it off all afternoon, all evening, but doesn’t think he’s too successful. Thinks he probably fucked up a couple of the interviews, hopes one of his managers would have stopped him if he was too off the mark, though. It’s probably fine. 
That night, for the first time in weeks, he dreams of you. 
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Gyeongsangnam-do, South Korea — Summer, 1931
In these most uncertain of times, Namjoon is sure of two things: you are the most beautiful woman he’s ever known, and he is so much in love with you that he feels shaky with it. 
It’s quiet in your father’s farmhouse save for your soft moans. With a rare stroke of luck, your mother and father have left to negotiate with the angry man who owns their land now, and Namjoon has taken advantage of sneaking away from Pukyong’s campus to be with you. He’d come to review plans for a new barn with your father, but finding him gone was a blessing. 
You and Namjoon haven’t been able to find much time alone since he left for Busan. He comes back when he can, which isn’t often, and you sneak out to the edge of the fields to meet him under the moonlight. He’s gotten used to fucking you quietly and in a hurry, helping you brush grass and twigs out of inappropriate places when you’re done. This though, this is a luxury, to be with you in your own bed, in the daylight. To be as loud as you both want—Namjoon could write a dissertation on how nice you sound when he fucks you. 
You’re slick and tight, and you’re the only home Namjoon’s ever really known. He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth and watches as you arch your back underneath him, whine a little, tell him not to leave marks where your parents might see. 
Because you’re young and reckless and you’ve both only ever loved each other, he knows he’s got to pull out soon, but it’s hard to remember in the heat of the moment. 
You call him “Namjoonah,” you tell him how good he feels inside you, breathy and sweet, running your fingers through his hair to brush it off of his forehead. It’s gentle, the way you touch him, like he’s something worth taking care of. You say all the nicest things to him when he fucks you—you tell him he’s strong and handsome and so big, you always emphasize, widening your eyes and palming his cock through his trousers. It’s probably giving him a little bit of an ego, he thinks, but he likes it anyway. Being the focus of your attention is so flattering. He always wants your eyes on him, your hands on him, your thoughts about him. You make him greedy and selfless at the same time—he wants everything you’re willing to give him and he wants to give you even more in return. Wishes this fucking war were over so he wouldn’t have to be on edge all the time. Knows he’s lucky not to have been conscripted to the Imperial Army yet, but that it’s probably a matter of time. 
It’s a blessing, being smart, which people have told Namjoon that he is since he can remember. At least they’ve spared him so far because he’s of more use to them at Pukyong, learning how to be the best architect he can be, than he would be as a soldier. Someday, his own father says, he will build castles for a Korean leader, walls to keep the Japanese soldiers out. Those conversations are had in secret, in whispers and gestures. It’s dangerous to be someone like his father, to think there’s a chance for Korean independence, to fight for it in secret… But it’s dangerous to be fucking you into your mattress when your parents could come home any moment, too, and that doesn’t stop Namjoon. 
Like father, like son, as they say. 
He’s sure it’s not a secret that he’s your boyfriend. Your parents know him, invite him for meals, they like him. They think he’s a sweet, smart, college boy who’s going to give their daughter a better life than they can someday, and they’re not wrong. 
Though, he’s also sure they’d like him a lot less if they knew he was a sweet, smart, college boy who loves your body, loves the way your soft thighs feel around his head when he licks at your core, loves the way he can throw your calves over his shoulders and hold you in place as he thrusts home. Loves the small violet bruises he bites into your skin, hidden away under your long skirts and long linen sleeves. Loves how you let him pull out and cover those bruises with his cum, and then especially loves when you run a finger through it and lick it off—when you tell him he tastes good and you thank him for sharing with you. 
They’d think he’s ruined you, and he’d cop to it even though it is absolutely the other way around. 
You come with a sweet, loud moan. Your throat sounds a little raw when you say his name again, which only turns him on more. With a few strokes, he follows you, leaving his release across your stomach and breasts and thinking that if all art looked like you do in this moment, he’d change his major.
Lazily, he lies next to you and pulls you close. You should clean up, you should get dressed, Namjoon should be sitting at the kitchen table studying his drawings with his shoulders back and glasses smart across his nose when your father gets home. You don’t want him to leave though, asking him to stay just a little longer, turning your head to kiss him softly. 
When he wakes up, it’s dark, and he panics. You’re pliant in his arms, still sleeping, and your parents should be home—what if they’ve seen you? What if they know that Namjoon is taking something sweet from you at every opportunity, paying you back with pieces of his heart? 
Maybe it’s time he faces this like an adult, he decides. He’s going to marry you someday anyway, it’s a foregone conclusion. They may not like that you’ve been breaking so many of their rules in secret, but someday you will be his wife, and he will care for all of your family as his own, and hopefully that buys him a little leniency with your father. He kisses your temple and gets out of bed as quietly as he can, pulls his clothes back on, and pads out of your room to meet his fate. 
He spots them immediately, and as soon as he has the thought that he’s going to be sick, he heaves all over your kitchen floor. It’s going to wake you up, but he needs to spare you from the scene. Somehow, he gets their bodies covered before you get up. It’s the best he can do but it’s not enough—the scream you let out is haunting, half shock and half anguish. When you crumple to your knees, he holds you, lets you sob and scream into his chest and rocks you steadily. He doesn’t know what else to do. 
After that day, he files for a leave from school and essentially moves in with you. You use your anger to fuel you, fighting for independence in secret alongside the bravest Koreans Namjoon knows. Your landlord comes around and neither you nor Namjoon even try to hide your rage and disgust. You spit at his feet and he warns you to be polite unless you want to end up like your parents. Namjoon tries to convince you that the old man isn’t even worth your anger, that you’re better off serving your parents’ memory alive than alongside them in a grave. 
As the war picks up, so does conscription. Namjoon thinks he’ll be called any day, but the idea of fighting in the Imperial Army makes him ill. So instead, he makes a plan.
It’s only a matter of months before you’re on the ferry to join him on Jeju. He’s been there, building and fortifying. Perhaps it’s cowardly to cut and run, but he doesn’t care. It’s the only way he can be with you, the only way he can keep you safe. With the farm equipment sold off and a bit of his family’s money, he’s made you a home there, and it’s finally ready for you. 
There’s a tearful reunion on the dock, and it’s followed by a trip to the courthouse to get married. It all happens in a daze, the memories hazy and dim, but the way he felt as he kissed you and made you his wife burns in him bright, bright, bright. 
He makes love to you on the floor of the new cottage that night, slow and sweet. Tries to make you understand how much he’s missed you, how much he loves you. Thinks he succeeds when you tell him you love him as you come, thinks he’s never seen or heard something more beautiful in his whole life. 
Finally, he leads you up the narrow staircase to the room he’s built for you. It’s got a big bed, but not too big, because you always want to be close to him when you sleep. Its wooden floors are made warmer with a rug his mother made for you, a wedding gift. The balcony is small, but he designed it himself, based on a wish you’d told him about, that you’ve always dreamed of a place to read in the mornings. It’s shaded from the eastern sun with a balustrade you can kick your feet up onto. There are crude drawings of your favorite animals carved into the balusters, alternating lions and peacocks. Protection and immortality, built into the home he’s made for the two of you. When you see it, you look like maybe you finally understand the way he cares for you, the way he will do anything he can for as long as he lives to keep you happy and safe. 
You let yourself out there, and light up the night with your happiness. Namjoon watches you from the bed. He’s been on the balcony, and it’s small. He’s not technically the architect he always thought he would be since he’s left school for good, but he tried his best with this design, and then tried even more when he built it for you. 
Maybe he should have seen it coming, maybe he shouldn’t have been so confident. The funny thing about light and sound is that he sees it happen just barely before he hears it. Sees you stumble a little to your right, sees the balcony wobble and thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him. Then he hears the deafening crack and it’s perfectly timed with his stomach sinking and you disappearing from his view, the balustrade going with you. 
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New York City — Present Day
Namjoon wakes up in a cold sweat, the alarm blaring next to him. He hates this feeling—the one immediately after the dreams. At least he has most of the day off. The company always gives them time for the jetlag, supposed to be for sleeping, but he’ll use it to shake himself out of this fog that settles in after the dreams. Maybe the Met this time; he saw the Whitney last time he was here and he sort of wants to get out of Chelsea, anyway—thinks the walk might help him clear his head. 
He sees you when he’s standing in front of a moon jar, wondering to himself what right these people have to even store this piece and then charge people to see it. Wonders if he could get it back to Korea somehow where it belongs, mutters something under his breath about colonialism and notices you smile at that out of the corner of his eye. 
It’s exactly like he’d always thought it would be to see you: immediately he knows. There’s no question. You look different again, not quite like you have in any of his dreams, but you smell the same and you’re wearing a blue and green dress, tight around your figure and flouncy at the hem that reminds him so specifically of a peacock he wants to cry. You smell like fancy French lavender soap and you have a smile that could bring world peace. 
The sight of you makes him freeze. What would he even say? There’s nothing he could tell you that wouldn’t make him sound insane, nothing that he’s willing to admit to a stranger, even if that stranger is you. His heart races and he feels himself start to sweat nervously. He’s been looking for you for years, and when he finally finds you, it sends him into a panic. How perfect for him. 
He can’t stand in front of the same moon jar forever, though, so he swallows his nerves and stands up a little straighter and begins to turn to you, even if just to introduce himself like a normal person. 
Namjoon’s heart sinks when he realizes you’re already gone. 
He’s talking to Jeongguk while he sits on the steps of the Met, phone pressed to his ear. 
“I know it’s her,” he says, sending Jeongguk into a frenzy of questions. 
Namjoon is contemplating the possibility that he’s fucked up his only chance to meet you, when you appear, out of the blue, to take a seat a few feet away from him, he rushes out a “Gotta go, Kookie, bye,” and hangs up as Jeongguk is still talking. 
“Hi,” you say. 
“Hi.” 
“This is probably so weird, but…” You straighten out your skirt and don’t make eye contact. You look equal parts beautiful and nervous. “Do I know you from somewhere?” 
Namjoon gets this question a lot. Usually, it’s fans trying to ‘play it cool’ when they run into him in Seoul, trying to give the impression that they don’t immediately know who he is. And yeah, he thinks he’s more humble than some people less famous than him, hates to assume, but it’s always pretty transparent. But, for as much as he gets this question, as often as he brushes it off with an, “I don’t think so,” and a rushed exit from wherever he’s been recognized, he has no idea how to answer it when it comes to you. So, he just gapes at you. It’s mortifying. 
“Sorry,” you continue. “It’s just that… Well, this is probably gonna sound crazy, but I think I’ve had dreams about you.” 
“Holy shit,” Namjoon says, living up to his reputation as a certified genius and a clever songwriter. 
This response flusters you even more, it’s clear you’re embarrassed. The way your eyes flit around and look for an exit from the situation tells him everything he needs to know. 
“Sorry again,” you groan more than speak. “Nevermind.” 
You start to stand, and Namjoon barely gets his shit together in time to grab your wrist and finally speak. “It’s not weird. I have them, too. The dreams.” 
“No fucking way,” you whisper, your eyes wide.
“Yeah.” Namjoon nods in agreement. “How’d you know it was me?” He asks. 
“Just knew it,” you shrug, wrist still kept tight in his grasp. “I’m not sure. It’s like… you feel the same. You smell like you, too.” 
“Come on,” he says, dropping your wrist finally and standing. “Want to get coffee or something?” 
To his relief, you do. 
It’s awkward at first. Where do you start with someone you feel like you’ve known forever but you’ve never actually met? Namjoon has a million questions he wants to ask you but none of them seem to fully form in his head. It’s bad enough he has to think through how to not be seen with you—his lifestyle adds a whole layer of complication you’d never faced together in his dreams. Eventually, you knock on his hotel room door about ten minutes after he gets in. It had been a little stressful, waiting for you. He made you promise three times you’d actually show up and then on the fourth one, he made you pinky promise. When you took his little finger solemnly, instead of laughing at him, he was finally (mostly) convinced you’d be there. 
And now, here you are, sitting at the little table in his room, clearly trying to be polite and not look at the mess of stuff he’s accumulated in just one night. After all this time wishing he could find you, he’s got no idea what to say to you. 
“So… why the Met?” 
You smile a little sheepish and shake your head. “You’ll think it’s stupid.” 
“I doubt that,” he says, trying to be as reassuring as he can for such a weird situation. 
“I thought it’s where the lion statues were… you know… on the steps. I thought if I went there, maybe you’d be there. I was sure it was you at the airport but by the time I realized it, you were gone. So, I guess it was the only place I could think to look for you where you might look for me, too. But they’re at the library.”
“The lions?”
His confusion seems to make you a little shy; you duck your head and shake it, like you’re telling yourself off before you even explain. “You always say I’m like a lion in the dreams. No matter where we are or what’s happened to us. You say I’m strong and brave and beautiful—”
“A lionheart,” Namjoon whispers. 
“Yeah,” you brighten at that. “Is it like that in your dreams, too?” 
Namjoon tells you it is. And then he tells you about all the dreams he can remember. Not in detail, and not the worst of the bad endings, but enough that the two of you can compare notes. Enough that you realize you’ve been having basically the same dreams, although not at the same time. Both of you have had some the other hasn’t had yet. He loves it when you tell him about one that ended happily, the two of you betrothed in the Joseon era and figuring out how to fall in love. You think it’s supposed to mean something that the two of you are always facing something that’s keeping you apart—you wonder out loud what might keep you apart in reality, too. 
“I hope nothing will,” he says without thinking. 
“You don’t even know me!” You’re laughing, but he’s clearly taken you by surprise. 
“Don’t I, though?” And the mood changes. You swallow thickly and he tries his best not to break eye contact with you even though he thinks you’re so gorgeous he might not make it through the day without passing out. “Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly, but he’s already moving to your side of the table and you’re already scooting your chair back to make space for him. 
You don’t kiss like you do in the dreams. In the dreams, you kiss him like he’s the beginning and end, like you’ll take anything he gives you. There’s something nice about that, makes him feel wanted and strong. In reality, you kiss him like you know it’s the other way around. You’re confident, teasing—you smile against his lips when you do a thing with your tongue that makes him let out a moan. 
In the dreams, he can’t remember ever kissing anyone but you. But now he’s got your lips on his and you’re definitely not the first person he’s kissed by a long shot, but you’re absolutely the best. It’s almost like having something to compare it to makes it even better. 
Maybe there should be some hesitation, but neither of you seem to have any. Not when he pulls you up from the chair so he can kiss you without bending all the way over, not when he walks you back toward the hotel room bed, leaving a trail of tender kisses up your neck and across your jaw in a surprising show of coordination. 
It’s inexplicable, he thinks, how he feels like he’s done this a million times with you before but in the best way. He can kiss you without any of the awkward, nervous, first time worries he normally has. He can trust you without knowing quite why, and that part is probably the weirdest thing about all of this because he can’t trust anyone outside of the members and his family usually. 
“Is it weird I feel like we’ve done this before?” you ask as you run your hands from his shoulders down his arms. 
Namjoon just shakes his head and winds his fingers with yours, leaning in to kiss you again. “No, it’s the same for me,” he says. 
Because of the familiarity, maybe, it’s not urgent when you undress each other. He takes time to appreciate this version of you, the one he’s actually holding in his arms, the one who pinches his side gently and then laughs. “Just making sure you’re real,” you say when he yelps in protest. 
There’s a moment when you’re both naked, standing in front of the bed, when the air feels thick between you. You’re holding his jaw in your palm and he’s got his hands around your back and neither of you speak for a long beat. For him, it just feels incredible to be here with you. He doesn’t care that he has no idea what you do for a living, where you live… Doesn’t know anything about you except that he thinks he has loved you for a long time. Thinks maybe he was put on this planet specifically to love you. Wonders how the two of you could have messed this up so badly in every other universe, but is actually really glad you did, because maybe that’s why you’re finally here with him now. 
“I… I think I love you,” he says timidly. “Makes me feel crazy.” 
You have a tear falling down your cheek, but you’re smiling—Namjoon is pretty sure you’re not supposed to be crying before sex like this, but you seem happy. “S’not crazy, I think I love you, too. I’m so happy I finally found you.” 
“I looked for you in every city,” he confesses before he presses his lips back to yours, then kisses the tears off your cheeks. 
You go soft under him, body pressed into his, and he guides you onto the bed. The two of you laugh into each other’s mouths, mutter how you can’t believe it’s happening, let your breath grow heavier as you take time to learn each other. Namjoon loves it when your lips move against his pulse point, when you get a little rough with him, leaving small bites and bruises in places the stylists won’t give him shit for. You like when he talks to you, tells you how you make him feel, how much he wants to be with you—he whispers right into your ear, the sweetest confessions sandwiched by pure filth that makes your breath hitch and a shiver travel down your spine. 
Namjoon’s dreamed you a hundred ways, in a hundred places, but here, spread naked underneath him in this hotel bed and laughing with him while he fucks you slowly is better than any dream he’s ever had. 
“Can’t believe you’re real, baby,” he breathes as you run your fingertips down his sides. He looks down to see where his cock is moving inside of you, and he thinks this must actually be a dream. You’re perfect, he thinks as he moves fingers to your clit and presses there gently. When you pull him down to kiss you, it feels familiar again. You brush his hair off of his forehead like you’ve done in every one of his dreams, and now he feels like he could cry—he’s just so overwhelmed by you, so in awe just like he knew he would be. Just as he always has been. 
You whisper his name when he makes you come. You tighten around him and dig your nails into his shoulders and Namjoon thinks this is the closest to heaven he might ever get. When you finally work through your orgasm, you encourage him to change positions, to lay on his back and let you ride him. 
The way you know exactly what he likes is magical, that deep grinding of your hips in his lap. You don’t have to ask to know what makes him tick, bringing his hand to your lips as you move, sucking two of his fingers into your mouth and whining around them.
He’s always preferred this to something faster. This way, he gets to watch you, feels like you’re taking your pleasure from him, feels like you’re both getting precisely what you want from each other. He could lift his hips and fuck into you, could hold your waist and get you to bounce on his cock like you’re making a sex tape. But this is better. This is you and him, moving like you’re meant to be connected. 
You absolutely are, he’s sure of it.
It’s a movie script ending when you come again just as he does for the first time—he wishes he could feel all of you when he spills into the condom, wishes he’d found you years ago and built a more tangible history with you. Hopes more than anything that you want to try to do that with him now. 
The two of you clean up with a little bit of shyness; you hide your face as he cleans you carefully with a warm washcloth, and he tries not to let you see him get rid of the condom. It’s not as easy as the dreams where those things sort themselves out, but Namjoon wouldn’t trade these awkward moments for anything. 
There’s not really a need to ask you to stay, he knows somehow that you will, but he asks anyway, preens when you agree and ask to borrow a shirt. 
He can’t really risk room service with you here, but he gets a manager to bring you food (hand stuck shyly through a crack in the door as to not interrupt), and while you eat, he peppers you with questions about your life. Feels like he knows the important things that are the same as in his dreams (he loves you, you’re loyal), but wants to learn all the mundane stuff, too. 
Much later, before the sun rises but after some people would already call it morning, you fall asleep in his arms and he lets himself drift off thinking of lavender and peacocks and falling in love.  
Namjoon’s alarm goes off, and the sun must be high in the sky because the light in the room is a bit muted. It’s the first time in a long time he’s woken up content, hesitates for a second before he remembers why, remembers everything that happened the day before, remembers that you were real and here and in his bed and his arms. He lets himself just exist there for a minute, eyes closed, thinking about what might come next, how he’ll explain you to his family… 
Then it sort of dawns on him that you should be right there, that he fell asleep wrapped around you and now he isn’t. He panics for a split second when he realizes you’re not pressed against him, doesn’t think he could handle it if this was a dream, too. Tries to be rational, but for some reason can’t quite bring himself just to tip his head over and open his eyes. 
Instead, he takes a deep breath, smells hotel laundry detergent and sex and the faintest hint of lavender. He says a silent prayer and then sticks his hand out to the other side of the bed to feel for yours. Thinks he might scream when he doesn’t feel you there immediately.
Namjoon snakes his hand across the sheet and hopes he never has to dream to see you again.
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jinkookspencil · 6 months
Text
like couples do | knj
you run out of period products at dawn, and there's only one person who's up....
description/tags: namjoon drabble / fwb to lovers / fluff / but mentions the fact that namjoon and reader had unprotected sex (don't do this) and reader is relieved to get her period afterwards / so obviously mentions of period and blood / maybe a bit angsty? / been busy and been working on a request! but it's been a while since i wrote namjoon and, gosh, i love writing for him even though whatever comes to me for him is usually the most random bursts and ideas, like this one i thought of last night / let me know what you think <3
wc: ~1.6k words
+
Your gasp pulls you from heaven to hell.
Extracted from your dream, you’re out of the covers in a flash, dazed as you try to meet your reality. The room was sweltering despite autumn settling in and the fan whizzing away in your room as it always did. The sound you’d grown so accustomed to only made it harder to think, but you didn’t have to. The wet pools at your back and around your body suddenly made themselves known, with your black pajama top sticking to your sweaty skin. With a quick change into a tank top and a sip of cold water, you were ready to escape into a dreamland, far from the hellhole that had been your bedroom...
Only to be met with a small pool of a different kind when you pull away the blanket.
Fuck.
Quickly feeling between your thighs confirmed it - you bled through your shorts.
Well, at least it’s here, you think, your heart settling after days worrying about the sudden delay in your cycle. After all, Namjoon hadn’t used any protection… 
It was hard to put away the mental image of him once you were in the bathroom, remembering that one time he had you propped up on the cabinet, but looking through it now, the panic returns. You were all out of pads and tampons.
This is why people have roommates. Or stupidly organized Virgo boyfriends, you think, cursing yourself while rummaging through every drawer, cupboard, and overnight bag without finding a single tampon for the evening. 
The minutes spent on your phone were quick to squash any more of your hopes - the delivery service app had been shut down for the night after some seemingly catastrophic bug on their end, and your female friends who lived nearby hadn't answered your texts and calls, as expected at this time of day.
Reading the time on your phone, you knew one person who would definitely be up. The person who always showed up. The man worked ridiculous hours, following his ‘late-night creativity’… unless the universe really wanted to torture you and, for the very first time, he’d be asleep as well.
You consider running to the convenience store, double layering your bottoms with black fabrics, and taking a scooter... only for a stinging cramp to shock you at your lower back.
He had to answer.
+
to: joon 🌒[3:58am] - hi are you up?
to: joon🌒 [3:58am] - text asap please it’s urgent
to: y/n🍀 [4:01am] - yes i’m up. are you okay y/n?
to: y/n🍀 [4:01am] - i’m finally done with work for the night.
to: y/n🍀 [4:01am] - are you okay? i’ll call as soon as i’m out of the building.
to: joon🌒 [4:02am] - don’t call i’m embarrassed to say this to you out loud plus i'm in pain
to: joon 🌒 [4:02am] - can you get me some pads and tampons? i got my period (aka the pain) and i’m all out so….
to: joon🌒 [4:02am] - i need em and i can’t get em
to: y/n🍀 [4:03am] - y/n of course. phew i thought this was going in literally the complete opposite way considering…
to: y/n🍀 [4:03am] - anyways, aren’t we past embarrassment? never feel that when it comes to me please.
to: y/n🍀 [4:03am] - safe space just for us, remember? 
to: joon🌒 [4:04am] - yes :) thanks joon 
to: y/n🍀 [4:04am] - :) getting on my bike now. i’ll be there in 10.
to: y/n🍀 [4:04am] - the sky’s starting to change colors. look outside, pretty :) (1 image attached)
+
The knock, though expected, jolts you enough for your new bedsheet to spring away from your grasp once again. Frustrated, a groan escapes you as you walk to your front door, tightening the robe that covered your body and stained shorts.
“Sorry I’m late,” Namjoon giggles at the door, seeing your furrowed expression. “Oh, you’re most definitely on your period, huh?”
“Get in here and shut up,” you groan once more, letting him in. All too familiar with your place, he unpacks one of the bags in his hand, carefully displaying an array of period products on the nearest table. 
“I’m surprised you didn’t send a photo and ask me to choose one,” you say, grabbing one of the boxes.
“I… I grabbed everything in the aisle without thinking. Shit, I should’ve sent a photo, right? Are these not good enough? Are they the wrong size? Will they fit your....? I can go to another convenience store,” he murmurs, head tilted down as he surveys the products before you.
“No, Namjoon, honey, the photo is just a thing boyfriends tend to do when they’re asked to get period products. You asked the same size and fit question, though,” you laugh before quickly realizing you compared his actions to that of a boyfriend. Something he most definitely was not.
“I lived in a dorm full of boys, how was I supposed to know?” he says, scratching his head.
“These are perfect, and I’m stocked for at least the next three months. Thank you, Joonie,” you say, squeezing his arm.
“Anytime, Y/N,” he replies quietly, pulling you closer to him so he can kiss your forehead. It only hits you both when your hand is rubbing at his back in his embrace, and it takes even longer to break away than it did to realize the situation. 
Something shifts in Namjoon’s gaze when he sees you emerge from the bathroom in new pyjama shorts. “Cute PJ’s. I’m not used to seeing them on you for more than five seconds.”
“Enjoy the show, then,” you quip, plopping down next to him on the couch and extending your legs over his lap. You hadn’t really meant it as a command, but can’t help but smile catching the fact that Namjoon had obeyed. His fingers draw mindless circles at your ankles as his gaze travels upwards. Minutes are spent in silence, eyeing your thighs with intent before his eyes rest on your exposed clavicle. His circles stop, gripping your ankle and noting the undeniable rise and fall of your breathing and breasts, swollen and tender against your thin cotton tank top.
“Oh,” he finally says with a cough, breaking the silence and raising his brows. “I almost forgot. I thought you might need these.”
Leaning forward, Namjoon dumps the entire contents of the second plastic bag onto your hard coffee table. Small, colorful circles bounce off of it and onto the floor, long bars land with a thud, and instantly recognizable plastic packages are cushioned by its contents.
“Oh, Joon. I do. I do fucking need this,” you let out, almost as a moan. “You already know what I want.”
Smiling, he tears open a plastic packet of your favorite chocolate-flavored bread and another for himself. The time spent biting and savoring the pillowy snack was heavenly in the comfortable silence -save for the birds that begin to chirp from somewhere outside your window.
“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten the sticker,” you say, handing Namjoon the tiny square envelope in your now-empty plastic packaging. He’s quick to grab it from your hands, giddy to see whatever Pokemon character was inside.
"Take mine, too," he says, handing you his square, with an illustration of a pink, deer-like creature - not at all like the Pokemon he usually mentioned.
"Oh, she’s pretty!”
"Exactly..." he says. "Deerling, that's her name. She's a new favorite of mine, actually. Her colors change based on the different seasons in the year... and when she evolves, her deer form's antlers are basically how branches are decorated in nature: budding flowers and leaves for spring, greenery for summer, you get the picture. She's the only one that truly encapsulates the beauty of our world..."
"All that for a Pokemon? I'm jealous," you tease, but he doesn't laugh, quietly opening the envelope you'd handed to him.
“Yes!” he cheers. “I don’t have this one yet - Moltres. Ah, you really are my good luck charm, huh?"
"Am I? I guess you should keep me around, then, huh?" you say, leaning back on the couch and poking his shoulder.
"That's the plan," Namjoon says, his eyes still thoughtfully fixated on the sticker he fiddled with, but only for a moment. “Uhm… I… we… should probably get some sleep, huh? I should probably…go. Uhm, should I?”
“Do you want to go?” you ask, feeling a tightening in your chest at the thought. Just like all those nights in bed, it was too comfortable to remember that this wasn't your entire reality but stolen, secret time. Always, one found themselves reminding the other to snap back to reality. It was beautifully torturous, just as you two had liked it for so long… until it began to sink in that the beauty could stand on its own…. if only one of you had the courage. 
“….No. No I don’t really want to go, Y/N. But if you want me to….” 
“I don’t want you to,” you interrupt, nudging his fingertip with yours right over your knees until your hands are intertwined. “I mean someone has to help me fit that stupid sheet onto the bed... and you're quite familiar with my sheets."
“I am,” he smiles, nodding to himself and squeezing your hand with his.
“Then we can get in… and just go to sleep… or cuddle,” you wonder, feeling Namjoon's soft hand under yours.
“Like couples do?” Namjoon asks, finally meeting your gaze for the first time that night.
“Yeah… yeah, I’m thinking like couples do,” you whisper, your breath hitching on the words that spoke your once unthinkable, far-fetched desire while looking at it right in the eyes. 
“Me too,” he smiles, bringing your hand up to kiss it and rest it at his dimples. “Like couples it is then.”
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hoseokhasmyheartxx · 6 months
Note
For the writing prompt! 2 and 135 with Namjoon!😏☺️
Come Home With Me | KNJ
*Pairing: fuckboy!Namjoon x f!Reader *Word Count: 2.4k *Genre: SMUT, fluff, FWB-to-??, non idol AU *Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT, MINORS DNI. jealousy, lack of communication, honestly they’re both idiots; dom!Joon, reader just goes along with it (isn’t really sub/switch/anything); piv sex, counter sex, bathroom sex, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, breast play, nfcm, some fluffy moments scattered throughout because I can never write anything without the feels *Summary: Jealousy is an ugly emotion, especially when it comes to friends-with-benefits. Too bad you can’t hide yours any longer. *A/N: welp this is the first thing i’ve written in literal months, so bear with me if it’s terrible. i finally got some inspiration one night and decided to just go with it. also sorry for the formatting, posting on mobile sucks.
Prompts come from this post!
Main Masterlist
Who would’ve thought that you would end up here.
Staring, frozen, watching the man you love shove his tongue down another woman’s throat at a party thrown by your best friend.
The worst part of this? The worst part of all this is that he doesn’t even know you love him. Sure, you’d been fooling around with him for the better part of a year now, but you’d agreed from day one that it wasn’t exclusive.
Kim Namjoon wasn’t an “exclusive” person. He didn’t do relationships. Everyone knew that. And you weren’t any different. There was nothing special about you that would change his ways. But the knowledge of this fact didn’t change the way you felt, the acid in your throat threatening to come up.
You spun around on your heels, bumping your shoulder against the corner of the wall to your right as you fled from the room. Hissing out a few curse words, you then silently cursed yourself as you knew there was no way he hadn’t heard you. You chose to forget it, making your way back down the hallway leading to the main room.
“_____,” a deep voice from behind you called. You continued walking, ignoring Namjoon’s plea for your attention.
You only made it a few more feet before you were shoved from behind into the bathroom at the end of the hall. You stood still, silent as the door clicked shut behind you.
“_____,” Namjoon repeated.
You slowly turned to face him, not at all wanting to have this conversation. Peering up at him, you watched for any sign of any emotion on his face, but he was unreadable, as always.
“What?” you asked flatly.
“You weren’t supposed to see that.”
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his statement. Of course you weren’t supposed to see it. That’s why he did it far away from you, or anyone else who may have seen. But, as luck would have it, you did see it.
“Look,” Namjoon sighed, “We aren’t exclusive. But even so, I’m not trying to flaunt any hookups right in front of your face. I’m not that much of an ass.”
You scoffed. “Oh, thanks so much for your consideration. I’ll make sure to ask you if you’re bringing someone the next time Jimin has a party so I know to stay home.”
You moved to step around him to exit the bathroom, but were stopped by his large hand grabbing your waist.
“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” Namjoon asked, eyes boring into yours.
“No.” You averted his gaze, refusing to look at him any longer. You weren’t in any position to be jealous when you knew he wasn’t yours. But you were, and you hated yourself for it.
Namjoon lifted his other hand, gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him.
“Don’t lie to me. Are you jealous?” he repeated.
With a shaky breath, you nodded.
“Why?”
“I just— I just am,” you choked out.
You watched as Namjoon tightened his jaw, glaring down at you.
“You are the one who said this was just fun. You said you weren’t looking for anything serious. How can you be jealous?” he questioned.
“Of course I said that, Namjoon. You don’t do relationships. What was I supposed to say, that I expected you to change everything about yourself and make me your girlfriend?”
His fingers never left your chin, eyes never left yours.
“If you didn’t want something casual, why would you agree to this? That’s not fair to you,” Namjoon asked, stroking your cheek.
Your anxiety over him possibly finding out how you felt was ebbing. This was one of many effects he had on you. Without even trying, he could ease your mind, calm you down, with the slightest of touches.
“Because. That’s— that’s the only way I could ever have you,” you finally admitted.
He furrowed his brow, staring down at you still.
“You’ve always had me,” Namjoon said, voice lowered, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you against him. His lips captured yours in a desperate kiss, his other hand moving to grip the side of your neck.
You returned the kiss, hands coming up to fist his shirt. He backed you up against the bathroom counter, trapping you there, lips not leaving yours. His tongue swiped across the seam of your lips, pulling a small gasp from you as you opened for him. His tongue overtook yours, his mouth engulfing you in passion and burning you from the inside out.
As he pushed you harder against the counter, he broke the kiss, his chest heaving against you as he steadied his breathing.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
You struggled to form words, brain still foggy from his dizzying kiss. “I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same way.” You traced circles on his chest, avoiding his gaze.
“I would have. I mean, I do. C’mon, think about it. I don’t stay the night with my hookups. I don’t call my hookups in the middle of the day just to hear their voice. I don’t… I don’t do any of that stuff with anyone, except you. If you would’ve just told me how you felt… you would’ve been mine a long time ago,” Namjoon breathed out.
You looked up at him, small smile curling on your lips. Standing on your tiptoes, you kissed the corner of his mouth, working your way across his jawline and down to the space just below his ear. Nipping at his earlobe, you wrapped your arms around his neck to hold yourself steady on your tiptoes.
“Shut up and take your pants off,” you whispered in his ear. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, knowing what was next.
Namjoon needed to be in control. Any hint of dominance shown from his partner, and it flipped a switch inside of him. His eyes darken, pupils blown out with desire.
Just like that, he ripped your shirt over your head, claiming your lips again as he reached behind you to unclasp your bra. His large hand immediately moved to your breast, massaging it as he sucked your lower lip in between his teeth. He bit down, not hard enough to really hurt but still enough to get your attention. You hissed, and Namjoon sucked your lip back into his mouth, easing the pain.
He lowered his head, wrapping his full lips around a nipple, beginning to lick and suck at the pebbled nub. You whine, encouraging him to continue. His sucks grow stronger, jolts of pleasure coursing through you, straight down to your core.
His fingers work to unbutton your jeans, pushing them down your thighs with both hands, his lips moving from your breast down to the flesh underneath it. Kissing down your stomach, he dropped to his knees, pulling your jeans the rest of the way off, lifting each foot carefully to rid you of your bottoms.
Standing in just your panties, with Namjoon on his knees in front of you, leaves you feeling vulnerable but highly aroused. The cool air from the bathroom vent makes you shiver, goosebumps pebbling your skin. His hands trail up your thighs, grabbing the waistband of your panties and tugging them off.
Suddenly, he’s lifting you up, sitting you on the edge of the counter, draping your leg over his shoulder. You gasp, reaching for anything to help you find your balance. Your hands settle on the countertop just as Namjoon pulls you forward, pushing your other leg away to spread your center.
Before you have a chance to get your bearings, Namjoon’s mouth is on your pussy, tongue warm against your flesh. You gasp, watching as he dives in. His tongue traces around you, avoiding your most sensitive spot as he looks up at you, cocky glint in his eyes.
“Fuck,” you breathe out as Namjoon’s lips finally claim your clit, sucking just a bit before he lets go. He licks broad stripes up and down your center, lips dragging against your clit every time he passes it. He holds your thigh tightly, keeping you still as you squirm underneath his ministrations.
His other hand comes up to your center, fingers tracing around your hole. You jolt, the new sensation only adding to your pleasure. He slowly inserts one finger, then two, chuckling against you. Pulling his mouth away from you, smirking, he teases, “This all for me?”
You nod, hand coming down to card your fingers through his hair. “Yeah, just for you.”
Namjoon begins pumping his fingers in and out of you, causing you to arch your back, your shoulders resting against the mirror. You pull your free leg up to rest your foot on the counter, spreading yourself more for him.
His fingers find your spot with ease. After all, he knows your body better than anyone else. You moan, tensing as his tongue reconnects with your clit. His movements become hurried, sloppy. The noises caused by his fingers thrusting into you fill the tiny bathroom, your juices dripping down his palm and wrist.
Your whines grow higher-pitched as you cant your hips, grinding your pussy against Namjoon’s tongue. He doesn’t relent, tongue working through your folds, hitting all your spots.
“Joon—,” you gasp, feeling the knot begin to tighten in your stomach.
“Yeah? Come for me, baby,” Namjoon growls, “Now.”
With a few more flicks of his tongue, you’re coming undone, falling over a precipice that you never want to be on again. Your muscles tighten, your pussy clenches around his fingers as your moans tumble out and you grasp at his hair, tugging him closer to you.
His big hands grip your thighs, fingers leaving indents in the skin. He doesn’t stop mouthing at your folds until you’re pushing him away, overstimulated and over exerted.
Namjoon stands, letting your leg fall from his shoulder as he meets you face to face, his hands resting on the edges of the countertop. He kisses you, his plush lips brushing against yours lightly before he rests his forehead on yours. Your breathing steadies, his presence calming you just as it always does.
“Baby,” Namjoon breathes out, his chest heaving.
“Yeah?” you ask, hands moving to the hem of his shirt, lifting it to remove the garment. He backs up, letting you lift the shirt up his torso and off his body with ease.
He kisses you again, desire glinting in his eyes. You watch as he undoes his belt and works his jeans down his thick thighs, still standing in front of you. His erection is obvious, tenting the front of his black boxer briefs. He palms himself, tipping his head back as he lets out a ragged breath.
“Let me fuck you, please.”
Stepping out of his boxer briefs, he closes in on you, hands gripping your thighs as he kisses you slowly, his tongue lazily working its way into your mouth.
“We don’t have a lot of time…” you trailed off, hands gripping his waist as you pulled him even closer to you.
“I know,” he mutters between kisses, “I swear I’ll make it up to you.”
You nod against his lips, pulling his body in between your thighs, gasping softly as his length makes contact with your core.
He grips himself, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds until he’s at your entrance. You brace yourself, mentally preparing. He pushes into you slowly, inch by inch, until he bottoms out against your pelvis. You take a few breaths as you adjust to his size, resting your forehead on his collarbone.
“Can I-?” Namjoon whispers, kissing slowly down your neck to your shoulder.
You nod against his shoulder, wrapping your legs around his waist just as he pulls out and thrusts back into you. You choke out a moan, Namjoon’s hips already snapping into you at a relentless pace.
His hands latch onto your hips, pulling you farther onto his cock, hitting deeper than ever. His cock drags against your walls, the angle allowing his cockhead to touch at your g-spot on every thrust.
“Don’t-,” Namjoon begins, struggling to steady his breathing as he continues, “Don’t ever question how I feel about you again. Understand?”
You whine his name, your mouth falling open as your head lolls back. You’re almost limp in his arms, letting him take you the way he needs.
“Understand?” Namjoon repeats, grabbing your chin to kiss you.
“Yes! Yes, I understand,” you cry out. You throw your arms around his shoulders to balance yourself, holding yourself up as Namjoon pulls you to the edge of the counter. His hips begin to stutter, telling you he’s close to his peak.
“Baby,” Namjoon repeats for what feels like the tenth time in the span of twenty minutes.
“Come inside me,” you gasp out, feeling yourself near your second high of the night.
Namjoon groans, pushing his cock as deep as he can. He stills against you, his fingers bruising the flesh of your waist as he comes. His face falls to the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he pants, his hips jerking as he fills you up. He reaches between your bodies, fingers rubbing your clit in circular motions until you cry out, coming on his cock just like he wanted.
Your fingers dance across his shoulder blades as you breathe with him. Your chests rise and fall together, neither of you moving.
“We have a lot to talk about,” Namjoon starts.
You giggle and nod. He kisses you once more, slowly pulling out of you.
“We do, but we have a lot of time for that. Come home with me?” you ask, leaning up to kiss his jaw.
Namjoon looks down at you, pupils beginning to dilate in lust again. He caresses your jawline, pulling you closer to him.
“Let me make it up to you when we get there.”
You nod, following his lead to clean yourself up and make yourself presentable before exiting the bathroom. Before opening the bathroom door, Namjoon turns to face you, holding your hands at your waist, squeezing them gently as he smiles a soft smile.
Who would’ve thought that you’d end up here.
Staring, frozen, smiling up at the man you love, knowing that he loves you, too.
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augustbutwinter · 6 months
Text
close, closer, closest | knj
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title: close, closer, closest wc: ~600 pairing: knj x reader (no pronouns are used) summary: you know your soulmate is close, but you haven't met them yet. every day your counter goes up when you pass that one station. until one day it doesn't. genre: soulmate!AU rating: teen? i don't know. this is not spicy. warnings: no warnings
a/n: thank you for beta-reading @hobi-gif @purplebeebs THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR REQUEST! I posted this in a separate post, I hope this is okay, and you like it! <3
AO3 // Masterlist
When your phone vibrates in your pocket you know your counter just went up again. 78 now?
You’ve passed by your soulmate 78 times now.
The train’s doors close and you know you’ve missed another chance to meet them.
You grant yourself until the next stop to wonder, if they’re on their way to work as well? Are they tired as well? Are they working in a tall building like you are? Are they getting on the train at that station? Are they changing lines? How long is their commute?
Do they care that their soulmate counter goes up every morning when they pass this station? Do they fight the urge to jump out of the train and find you as well? Do they also make sure to take the same train each morning to feel close to their soulmate? Does it comfort them as well? Just to know their soulmate is there?
One morning the vibration doesn’t come. You’re not too worried. Maybe they just missed the train? Hopefully they haven’t gotten sick.
When the vibration doesn’t come the next morning either, you try not to worry.
You start to worry when the vibrations don’t return after a week.
Have you missed your chance? How are you to find them again in a city of millions? But what can you do? There’s websites with millions of postings looking for their soulmates that they passed by once. There’s other websites asking for updates on the app to finally include better stats. But studies are slow, and developments are slower. The science behind it remains a mystery even after so many years.
And so you get used to your counter stuck at 89. _____
Tall, broad shoulders, a handsome face, striking blue hair. This must be the new hire your boss had mentioned a while back. You remember your colleagues giggling over his resume, praising your boss for hiring such a handsome man. You had rolled your eyes at them in good-nature. Your counter had been at 87 back then.
“Y/N,” your team leader greets you, when you meet her in the middle of the hallway. “Let me introduce you to Namjoon. He’s joining our team starting today. Please take good care of him while you show him the ropes, he’ll learn quickly, I’m sure.”
You bow slightly in greeting. He bows in return.
When you continue down the hallway, there’s two–no, three– things happening in quick succession.
Your phone vibrates. His phone vibrates. He walks into a glass door.
Your counters turn to 90. _____
“It’s you.”
“It’s me.” You smile. He smiles.
“I thought, I’d lost you.” His smile drops a little as he stares into his beer and grips your hand a little tighter. “I tried to find you on my last day at the other job. I think I ran through the station for hours in hopes you were there somewhere. Pure hubris.”
“But you didn’t lose me,” you say as you move closer. “You came to me.”
“I did, didn’t I?” He laughs. “I will never again bash soulmate science again on the internet.” He looks sheepish as you frown. “Which… I… uhm… have never done before.” He clears his throat. “Anyway.” He turns sombre again. “I’m really glad I found you.”
You give his hand a little squeeze. “Me, too.” And in a rush of boldness you press a kiss to his cheek.
He turns to you, a hint of heat in his cheeks.
“So,” he starts, focusing on the table. “So, today is our day one?”
You nod. Yes, today is the day you start.
______
Ⓒaugustbutwinter september2023 (Please don’t repost. If you like it, reblog it, leave a heart, drop me an ask or a message. I’d love to hear from you! Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you liked it! I thrive on feedback like a thirsty houseplant!)
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indigobsessed · 6 months
Text
Domesticity.
pairing : kim namjoon x reader (newly-established relationship)
summary : after getting into a relationship together with your best friend of 5 years, he decided to sleep over as usual. but this time, you woke up feeling different.
genre : best friends-to-lovers, fluff, comfort, a teeeeeny tiny bit of angst, DOMESTIC NAMJOON
rating : SFW
warnings : SHIRTLESS NAMJOON SHIRTLESS NAMJOON AND HE’S DOMESTIC ㅠㅠㅠㅠ , a bit suggestive (implied making out)
wc : 609 words.
a/n : ok maybe i lied that wasn’t my last post afterall… have fun reading this thing bc my brain cannot process an equation rn 😨 not proofread :”)
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You squint your eyes to the morning light in your room. Due to the very irritating sunlight, it causes you to slowly get up and sit down. Sighing, and you look to your side and see no one was there. You felt cold, lonely.
After getting the courage to get out of bed, you did your mini stretching as of what your best friend of five years, Namjoon, taught you.
And then it hits.
Namjoon, kiss, confession, sleepover.
Maybe you could be dreaming, maybe this is all just about you.
You went over to look at yourself in the mirror, seeing your messy bed hair and bare face. You are wearing a white tank top with biker shorts, but the jacket you were wearing isn’t yours, and it was five times bigger.
Namjoon.
You walk out of your bedroom to see Namjoon in the kitchen, shirtless and making 2 cups of your favourite tea. You stand there, blushing at the sight of his muscular build. And then you think again, is it true that you kissed him?
You were lost in your thoughts until Namjoon snaps you out of it.
“Oh, Y/N, I didn’t see you there.” He said, putting down the cups of tea on the counter as he walks over to you and wraps his big arms around your waist. You look up to him with loving eyes as he leans down to give you a good morning kiss.
It felt natural.
There were no hesitation.
That was when you realise, he is no longer your best friend, but your boyfriend.
The kiss lasted for a while until he pulls away, you lean onto his bare chest.
“Good morning, Y/N.” He caresses your back in small circles. “Ew Namjoon, I haven’t brushed my teeth yet!” You slapped his chest lightly as you felt the vibrations from it as he chuckles. “Me too, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to kiss you all over again.” He teases as you whine about how disgusting that was.
Both of you stand there, enjoying the quiet atmosphere in each other’s embraces.
He feels warm. You feel warm.
“Namjoon, is this real?” You question him as you hold him closer. “Real? What do you mean by real, baby?” Baby. You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach from the nickname. “I mean.. Is this real? Us? Are we.. Can we? You won’t leave me right? Namjoon-“ He cuts your blabbering off with a kiss. “Y/N, listen to me baby. What I feel for you, what you feel for me, are all real. I know what you’ve been through, I’ve seen it all, my love. The moment I get to call you mine, even though you were already mine from the start,” He speaks. “I. Will. Take. Care. Of. You.” He continued, each word with soft pecks.
“Please don’t ever leave me, Joon.” You nuzzled yourself closer. “Never. We are still the same as before, Joonie and Y/N-ie remember?” He comforts you, and you nod.
As you both pulled away from your embraces, he takes your hand in his and gives it a little squeeze. “Baby, why don’t you go sit down and put on our favourite show while i reheat our drinks. Hmm?” He says, giving a little kiss on your cheek as you went over to sit down.
He comes back after a while, sitting next to you and cuddled closely.
This may be the first, but it lasts forever.
And you have never loved someone so much, and you have never felt so loved by someone.
To make it even better, it’s all from Namjoon.
Your boyfriend.
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seokjinsonlyone · 2 years
Text
niche boyfriend things i think bts would do
a/n: friendly reminder that bts are my boyfriends i claim da whole crew <333
part 1 | part 2
namjoon:
he writes you letters like yeah he communicates with you in normal ways of course but every once in a while he’s overwhelmed with what he feels for you and pulls out his journal and writes you a letter he doesn’t send every one he writes to you but they exist
forehead kisses
he’s very conscious of his surroundings especially when you’re around he wants to protect you to keep you safe so if you’re walking side by side and for some reason you end up on the side closest to the street he pulls you in and switches sides with you
pillow talk!!!!! he gets sleepy and spills his guts starts talking all metaphorical and poetic and you just gotta give him a little kith to bring him back down to earth
if you sent him to the store to get something he’d get distracted and come back with everything except what you asked for but would always go back and get what you needed tho when you hit him with the 😐🤨
100% enables your plushie addiction like if he’s out and he sees one he goes back and forth over whether he should get it bc he knows you have so many but ultimately decides to get it bc he loves how excited you get when you see it and how you hug it and immediately find a home for it on your bed or shelf
calls you baby so much you get culture shock if he ever says your actual name
when you wanna spend time with him without interrupting his methods of relaxation he reads to you <333
gives you a crash course on botany so you can take care of his plants when he’s away like there’s an actual test that he makes you take on direct vs indirect sunlight and the amount of water each one gets etc; makes a nifty little chart detailing the care instructions anyway bc he doesn’t trust you to remember; checks in weekly to see if you’ve followed through
makes pinky promises when he’s super serious; pinky promises he’ll get some rest, he won’t work himself to the bone, he’ll tell you when things get hard, he’ll love you forever; he hasn’t broken one yet
seokjin:
would get you guys a set of those friendship lamps that you’re supposed to tap when you’re missing/thinking about the other person <333 but he’d only tap it when it’s the middle of the night you’d be sound asleep at 3am and all of a sudden your room get lit up like spongebob when he was vibing with the jellyfish
he texts you good morning and good night everyday without fail
uses you as an excuse to get out of social situations so sometimes you’ll come home at night and he’s just there on your computer playing games and you’re like ???? and he’s like i told them i had plans with you and didn’t want to be a liar
you’re his go to drinking buddy so he texts you at odd hours and inappropriate times to get drinks like it’ll be 10 am on a tuesday and you’ll have just gotten your wisdom teeth taken out the day before and he’ll text you when you get out of bed to change your gauze talm bout “drinks???” like dawg no 💀
offers you the first bite of whatever he’s having whether it’s his dinner some ice cream a sip of his drink his gummy bears whatever you always get first pick even if you have your own
gets shy about asking you on a date all face flushed red in the ears even if you’ve been together for a while; has led to him on separate occasions casually inviting you over to his place only for him to answer the door with his hair slicked back wearing slacks and a button up after having cooked you a three course gourmet meal and you’re standing there in leggings and a hoodie with a hole in the sleeve
literally only cares about your opinion like if he wants to wear something and twenty people including his stylists are telling him it look goofy but you say it’s a vibe he’s gonna go head and wear it
not a fan of pda but at the same time he can’t find it in himself to break the tradition of kissing you in greeting no matter who’s around
if you’re carrying something no matter how light or heavy it is when he sees you you won’t be bc he’s holding it for you
answers the phone whenever you call no matter what time zone he’s in and stays on as long as you need him to
yoongi:
if you was sitting down side by side he would have one arm wrapped around you resting on your hip
he talks about you like all the time like if y’all was hanging out everyone knows bc he’s mentioned it like six times or if anything was ever said or did that resembled something you said or did he’s gonna say how it reminded him of the time you… your name just always gon be in his mouth
there’s a folder on his computer with all the voice memos you’ve ever sent him saved so he can listen to them back whenever he misses you; has definitely sampled some in songs that may or may not see the light of day
when you get curious about how he does what he does he shows you and lets you mess around on his equipment helping you make beats and add sounds and what not and actually develops the tracks he thinks may have potential
complains about you fussing over him whenever he’s sick or injured but lowkey loves and expects it like if you didn’t he’d go around with his lip poked out acting like an abandoned kitten until you started fussing over him again
even tho he doesn’t really drink it anymore he makes you coffee every morning
indulges in your hobbies even if he doesn’t particularly care for it like will spend 6 hours building an 1800 piece lego set with you just bc you asked
always consults you on which selfies he should post so you gotta sit there and play spot the difference tryna figure out if he should post the one where his smirk is set at a 45° angle or 47° angle
lowkey possessive like if you’re out and someone approaches you and starts talking to you for longer than 30 seconds he’s gonna nonchalantly slide over to you and wrap his hand around your waist not bc he’s insecure in y’all relationship in anyway but he just wants everyone to be aware that you’re spoken for
you watch videos on his phone together in bed blanket over your laps you tucked up under his arm sharing one set of earphones you get the right and he gets the left
hoseok:
holds your hand in the car while he driving
he leans on you a lot like whenever y’all sitting next to each other his head is on your shoulder; almost exclusively the big spoon when cuddling tho
always brings you back something from wherever he’s travelled to even if he didn’t get a chance to go out much and it’s just like a candy bar from the airport or sumn like if you visit him in the middle of tour you gotta bring an empty bag just for the presents he got you
facetimes you whenever he’s on lunch break sometimes he goes to find a quiet place where y’all can chat while he eating other times he let the chaos ensue and you gotta talk to everyone and listen as they all slurp and smack on whatever they got
makes you take pictures with him as soon as you wake up like you’ll be barely coherent face puffy eyes swollen dried up drool caked up on the corner of your lip and he pulling out his ole reliable polaroid and making you pose
randomly compliments you like you’ll be in the middle of some odd rant about how different colored m&m’s should have different flavors or how ranch is the inferior salad dressing and he’ll just interrupt you with a “you’re so pretty” and then urge you to continue on as if he didn’t just fluster you
custom orders matching bonnets for you two his has your face on it and yours has his face on it
paints your toes in exchange for you painting his fingers; nearly sabotages his own work and gets kicked bc he can’t resist the urge to tickle your feet
on days where you don’t have anything going on and can tag along with him doing this and that he likes to pick out your outfit; he dresses you in a similar fashion to his self and says that you’re his mini me for the day; happens often enough that everyone picks up on it and your new nickname is actually junior
has an entire photo album dedicated to pictures of you; prints out his favorite ones and starts a scrapbook detailing the timeline of your relationship and random memories of things you’ve done and places you’ve been together
jimin:
whenever he feels compelled he will bite your neck and there will be a hickey left in his wake
pretty much holds you hostage whenever he’s not working like constantly coaxing you into staying the night or weaseling his way into your place and when they had that 2 month break…..y’all lived together; is currently searching for a location to make that a permanent situation
loves to mess with you when you’re relaxing like you could be laying on the couch watching something on netflix and he gon come and lay on top of you with a smug smirk on his face and while you whining and squirming and pushing trying to get him off you he’s pretending he doesn’t know what’s going on like you’re not there
your health and happiness is very important to him and it’s his personal to mission make sure nothing and no one gets in the way of that even yourself so he nags a lot always asking if you took your vitamins making sure you’re appropriately dressed for the weather always checking up on you bothering you when he knows you’re not doing well so you’ll talk to him it’s annoying sometimes but you know it’s from a place of love 💞
whenever he goes somewhere without you he make sure to take plenty of pictures and even makes notes in his phone so he can give you an accurate play by play of everything he saw and did bc he wants to experience everything with you even when he can’t; makes it a point to bring you back to the spots he really enjoyed so you can see it for yourself too
lays his head in your lap and shakes it around until you get the hint and start playing in his hair
loves to make himself feel big and make you feel small by pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around you but switches up in general when it comes to cuddling sometimes he wants to be your man other times he wants to be your baby ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
if by some grace of god he wakes up in the morning when he doesn’t have a schedule he makes the both of you breakfast to eat in bed
if he ever notices you online shopping just browsing and adding the things you like to the cart he’ll buy it out for you once you’re finished with or without your knowledge
butterfly kisses
taehyung:
no matter how long he been sleep if you join him he’s gonna latch onto you he could be sleep for five hours been hugging a pillow the whole time but as soon as he feel that bed dip from you getting in his arm will be wrapped around your waist
he makes you playlists
always makes sure he looks good for you like if it’s a scheduled date there’s a 90% chance he’s showing up in a suit regardless of the activity planned even if it’s just like a random trip to the grocery store he’s at least slicking his hair back before picking you up; he never expects you to follow suit tho always tells you to wear whatever you want whatever is comfortable so there’s definitely photos somewhere in your gallery of him in slacks and a blazer with padded elbows while you’re in jeans and an oversized sweatshirt
midnight drives with no destination in mind just the open road windows down if the weather’s nice and good vibes
whenever there’s a couple days that he’s not filming anything he’ll let his facial hair grow out with the sole purpose of rubbing his stubbly cheeks across your face simply bc he knows it irritates you
massages your feet after a long day
prides himself on being a gentleman so he always has to open the car door for you when you ride together; if you open it yourself to get out he’s gonna hit you with the 😐👉🚗 and make you go back in so he can do it for you
complains that he’s tired of takeout and begs and begs until you agree to meal prep for him so he won’t starve when he’s left alone also your leftover fairy <333 whenever you cook he get a plate or two
sulks if he doesn’t have your undivided attention
definitely for special occasions but also just randomly gifts you flowers like he’ll pull up to the crib just to deliver flowers to you simply bc he felt like it; you’ll ask him what the flowers are for he’ll shrug and say just because ask if you like them and when you smile and say yeah he’ll kiss you on your cheek then turn to leave at which point you have to pull him back and convince him to either come in or take you with him bc he can’t just make you fall in love with him all over again and leave
jungkook:
he plays with your hair like if you have type 1/2 hair i can see him mindlessly twirling the ends around his finger and if you have type 3/4 hair he pulls at the strands and watches them bounce back into place
stares at you dreamily when you’re not looking (and blushes when you do catch him)
never asks for kisses just crowds your space and puckers his lips and waits for you to close the gap no matter how long it takes except for when he really wants one then he’ll squeeze your cheeks with one of his hands and bring your lips to his
plays in your hair and makeup when he’s bored like you’ve definitely come home and seen him chilling in one of your wigs sporting a cherry red lip and blue eyeshadow it’s not even surprising anymore you’re just helping him work on his color combos and blending technique at this point
he be stealing 😭 like you’ll be in the middle of making spaghetti or sumn and you look on your spice rack and the oregano rosemary and thyme nowhere to be found lo and behold he done took it for whatever he was cooking last week and never brought it back
your butt is actually just a resting pad for his hands he pats it every time he walks past you and if you’re ever laying on top of him his hands may start wrapped around your back but in due time they’re at your butt just rubbing bc he likes the feel of it it’s comforting to him
develops a “what’s yours is mine” mentality for some reason like you’ll have a water bottle and before you even can sit it down he’s taking it and gulping some down or you’ll be watching tv together and you’ll get up and get your pint of ice cream and sit back down and next thing you know he getting up and coming back with a spoon of his own as if you extended an invitation to your snack
when you get restless at night he sings you to sleep 🥺
self designated dj of the relationship like super obsessed with setting the mood you gotta fight to get a song in edgewise
will do your skin care routine for you when you feel lazy all you gotta do is remove your makeup and wash your face and he’ll take care of the rest spends a good 10 minutes gently and thoroughly rubbing in your toner and all your serums and moisturizers
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axigailxo · 2 years
Note
Hi! I may request number 5 with Namjoon that prompt was made for him 😮‍💨
5. you get turned on by his morning voice and he notices
talk to me | knj
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—In which your boyfriend's morning voice turns you on and he notices.
pairing. namjoon x reader established relationship au
genre. implications of smut, slight fluff
w.c. 392 (a drabble)
Tossing and turning, the feeling you hoped would have subsided by this morning was still very much present.
Going to sleep needy was always a struggle as your boyfriend Namjoon has a tight schedule and can’t stay up late nor even stay for long in the mornings.
So that’s why you never bother to let him know of all the times you so badly need him.
You’re sure if he knew he’d make an exception to his schedule; anything to fulfill your needs. That’s just how he is. But you don’t want to hold him up- he has a life. A very chaotic one at that. Sex is the least of his priorities.
So you thought.
“Jagi, can you pass me my phone?”
Fresh out of a deep sleep, Namjoon turns to face you, who’s been awake for a while, struggling with that tempting problem of yours.
You gulp, the depth of his morning voice always having the same effect on you and not helping better your issue whatsoever.
Reaching over on the nightstand to retrieve said phone, you almost hand it to him before it suddenly slips out of your hold and you let out a harsh gasp.
Namjoon only stares blankly, wondering what the hell has gotten into you this morning.
“Jagi, are you okay? You seem on edge.”
Oh how you wish to be on edge.
“What? I’m fine.”
You reach down to retrieve the phone from the ground, and just as you go to sit back up with the phone in hand- you feel him scoot closer against your body.
Gasping again, you toss the phone on a random area of the sheets as you attempt to fight the arousal building at your entrance.
“Y/N~” Namjoon coos, his crotch pressed right against your ass as your back faces him. “Use your words…”
You can’t help the noise you let out, his words being spoken right into your ear as you can feel the way his bulge begins to erect against you. He lets out a playful giggle, enclosing his lips on the shell of your ear.
“My voice turns you on?” he asks casually, hand beginning to travel to your thigh. “How come I’m just now finding this out?”
You stay silent, small whimpers escaping from you occasionally.
“Let me help you baby… I can be late today.”
~~~
a/n: not proofread!
©️axigailxo 2022 all rights reserved
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suzumenokakimono · 1 year
Text
Bigger issue
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Pairing: Namjoon x reader 
Genre: au, fluff, friends to lovers 
Word count: 9k
Summary: Long winter had left you with some additional kgs and you were very sulky about it. You knew you were not fat, but you didn’t feel yourself. This was not you, not the real one! You wanted to hide and wait for better times. 
A/N: I’ve gained some weight recently and I am not very happy about it. I had to get it out of my system.
P.S. I started to write a new one-shot with Jimin but I am so whipped for Namjoon I am doomed.
Masterlist
—----
You sat on the couch.
People were going around you, talking with each other, laughing, drinking, simply having fun. You knew some of them, the other ones were completely stranger to you. They all were invested in their own matters, nobody was paying attention to you. 
Which was fine. You really wanted to be left alone. You needed to gather your thoughts. Your own thoughts which were tormenting you, making you feel worse and worse each passing moment. And you knew it was all just in your mind, nobody was guilty, just your fucking brain bringing up everything, exaggerating, showing the whole situation in only dark colors. You knew that. If someone actually went inside your head and saw all that mess, they would call you crazy and tell you to get over yourself. It was that stupid. And you knew that. You also knew you were the only one thinking about that, nobody had mentioned anything, pointed out anything, given you any hint they’d noticed. They didn’t care. And, of course, you knew that. And yet, you were failing to control that. You were failing the battle with yourself, with your own fucking thoughts. 
And you were sitting on that couch. That was not how you were supposed to spend that night. 
You hadn’t seen your friends for a long time. You all had been busy, with your lives, jobs, schools or whatever. You all had stuff to do and no time to meet and catch up. You missed them, but there had not been much to do about it. You wanted to talk to them, you wanted to spend time with them, but at the same time you wanted to be left alone, not seen by anyone. You were not feeling yourself, not as you should have. That was just not the best timing. 
And the reason for all of that was very simple: Long winter that had left you with additional kgs and you hadn’t had time to do something about it. You were busy and had decided to take care of your love muffins some other time. You hadn’t thought that your friends would betray you and force you to meet and have fun before that happened. 
You almost had changed your mind and stayed at home. You had been so close to writing to everyone you were not feeling well. 
But you actually had one good reason to come.
Him. 
You knew he would come, he’d told you himself. Or more like he’d written you in text. He was such a nice person. He’d asked you if you were coming to the party because he hadn’t seen you in ages and he’d missed you. You remembered vividly how much you’d blushed after reading his message. And how quickly you had changed your mind about going out. You’d been missing him too. Very much. You missed his wide, charming smile. You missed his laughter, you missed his big, sexy brain. His everything. You loved spending time with him, you were never bored together. You loved how he was talking about books he’d read, about places he had visited. You loved how his underbite was showing when he was focused on something. You loved his dimples popping out when he was smiling. You loved…
You loved him.
Oh, you were so in love with him. He was your friend and you definitely had feelings for him that friends usually don’t have for each other. And you were pretty damn sure he didn’t feel the same way about you. He had never shown any sign of that, more affection than it was appropriate. He was always nice, kind and gentle. He was occasionally hugging you, nothing you could have taken for something more than a friendly gesture. You’d been always enjoying those moments, reminding yourself it was better than nothing. You knew he had never treated them the same way as you had been. He didn’t like you that way.
But still, you were insanely in love with him. 
So, you’d put on your comfy pants and oversized hoodie to cover yourself up and had gone to the party. 
And you’d ended up alone on the couch. You were bashful about your appearance, actually regretting putting on baggy clothes. You hadn’t been able to have a good time. You’d meet a few of your friends, you’d talk a little but you’d been feeling their eyes on you. You were so damn sure they were judging you over your look, you couldn’t focus on anything else. It had taken away all the fun from the evening and you already wanted to leave. 
You’d seen him around. Obviously, he was looking gorgeous as always. He hadn’t changed at all. So tall, slim and handsome. He had been trying to talk with you but you’d been running away from him, always finding an excuse. To be honest, that was really stupid since he was the only reason you had come to the party in the first place. You probably were crazy. You wanted to slide between couch cousins and never be seen ever again. 
You felt someone had sat next to you. You were so invested in your own thoughts it startled you and you almost jumped in your spot. You turned your head and to your surprise you saw no one else but him. He was looking at you, with his eyes half closed, full lips pressed in a thin line. He seemed puzzled, like he wanted to ask you about something, still hesitating if that was the good idea. 
“Namjoon?”
“Oh, good. You remember me.”, he exhaled theatrically, showing his relief. “Considering how you’ve been running away from me the whole evening, I would assume you don’t know my name anymore.”
“I would never run away from you.”
“Oh? Then what the hell is happening today?”
“It’s not you. I’m running away from everyone!” 
“Wait? So, I’m not special? You’re not avoiding me and only me? This makes me more sad than you not remembering my name.”
You chuckled, probably for the first time that night. Namjoon had that special power over you. Your soft spot for him was already an independent country with its own currency and national anthem. 
“So, are you having fun all alone on the couch?”
“I am no longer alone.”, you half smiled at him. 
“Am I interrupting you?”
“Absolutely not. You’re just one. And there… are the others… Why there is no many of them?”
“It’s a party. It usually happens at parties. At least, so I’ve heard.” 
“You seem to be more experienced in this than me.”
“I know a few things, true.”, he made this facial expression of a person who knows stuff, more than the others. “Hoseok told me.”, he added after a small pause.
You chuckled again. Namjoon was definitely ruining your ruined evening. 
“Where is he anyway?”, you asked.
“I have no clue. Last time I saw him, he was dragging his girlfriend somewhere. I don’t want to know the details…”
“Well, at least they have some fun…”, you felt your face turning pink. Why the hell had you said something like this to him? You cleared your throat. “Are you having fun?”
“No, I can’t. Not when you’re like this. It’s bugging me. You’re bugging me.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I hope so.” Namjoon scooted a little closer to you. “What is up? What have you been up to all this time? Talk to me.”
“No. You talk first. Last time we saw each other you’ve been trying to publish a book.”
“Oh shit, it’s been that long?”, he sighed. “Well, true, I was contacting a few publishers…”
Namjoon started to talk about the past events, things that you had missed while not being around. He had been working hard and even though it had been basically his work, nothing exciting, he still wanted to share that with you. 
And you really wanted to listen to him. You wanted to know all the updates from his life, even his work life. But you had drifted away very quickly. Your mind was playing tricks on you and even the short, yet fun, conversation with Namjoon had not kicked out the main topic of your mind.
You looked at him. Ah, he was so pretty. Way out of your league. Especially when you were looking like this. Way too big, way to bummed with your anxiety. He would never look at you that way. Why had you eaten that cupcake after coming to the party? But then again, your stomach had been empty, it would make a noise right during your chit chat, you were sure about that. And he would hear that. You’d had to eat something! 
Namjoon smiled with his full dimpled smile. Way out of your league.
You saw people passing past you, someone broke a glass, a pretty black dress was wet and smelled like beer and you were fat.
You lost him. 
“... they wrote me an email about it…”
You squeezed your brain. Random sentences were still coming to you. But they seemed to be muffled, like he or you were underwater. 
“... I tried to correct that, but it was so hard, you know? I didn’t want…”
His hair looked really good. He always had nice hair. 
“...Y/N… you listening…?”
He had said your name. You had to focus! Wait, what was he saying? 
“... and I sold my kidneys because I’ve needed more money for drugs.”
“...what?”, you blinked a few times, not sure you’d heard him correctly. 
“You.Are.Not.Listening.To.Me!”, he was mad but still amused by your facial expression. 
“I-I am!”
“Oh yeah? What was the movie about?”
“... a movie? I thought… you’ve written a book…”, your confusion was going through the roof.
“That’s it. You are spilling everything, now.” 
“Ah, Namjoon. I just drifted away, can you repeat please? That one about drugs?”
You gave him the most charming smile you could produce. But he knew you too well. He had not bought that. 
“I died. Now your turn.”
“I don’t wanna die… I was just thinking… you know… about stuff… all of them… and…”, you were talking more silently with each new word. You were trying to confuse him, maybe discourage a little. He was so stubborn, but he’d found a good opponent. 
Namjoon had not bought your mumbling as well. He rolled his eyes and moved even closer to you on the couch. Your heart skipped a bit, you were playing it cool though, pretending him being close to you was not doing anything to you. He was your friend, just your beautiful friend. Who you’d been in love with for decades. 
“Come on, Y/N. Talk to me.”, he tilted his head, almost bumping into yours. “What’s on your mind?”
You could feel how your face was turning red. Namjoon was way too close, you could smell his cologne. You didn’t want him to see you so flustered, it would only add more to your anxiety which was already bigger than ever. An urge to hide attacked you even more than before. So you did the only thing that had come to your mind. You took your hood and put it on your head, pulling by the hem, to cover your face as much as possible.
Namjoon gasped in surprise, taken aback by the plot twist. He looked at you with eyes wide open, trying to make any sense out of it. 
“You know, I haven’t seen you in a long time, but I cannot say I can see you right now.”
You snorted, before any thinking. That was kinda the point. You wanted to look at him but he was not supposed to see you, at least not like that. You were conflicted between spending more time with him as you wanted and hiding in the closet and watching a whole party from that place. 
But Namjoon had no idea what was going on in your head and since you were refusing to talk to him he decided to leave you be. You were sure he’d said something like “See you around” and simply left. You knew it was exactly what you had wanted and yet still it hurt. You wanted to be left alone but maybe not by him. But how was he supposed to know that since you’d refused to even talk with him? 
Agh, you were so conflicted! Your mind was a mess and nothing was able to ease that. 
You looked around the room, trying to find Namjoon. You wanted to apologize and maybe explain a little what was going on. Not everything, but you didn’t want him to be mad at you. He still was your friend, you didn’t want to lose that.
You found him next to the drinks table. He simply grabbed a beer and moved to stand in the door frame. Before you even realized, someone had joined him. You didn’t recognize her at first, her hair was covering her face. But when she moved your heart stopped for a moment. It was Amber. Your mutual friend from school with whom you both had stayed in touch even after going separate ways and jobs. She always looked good. She was the lucky one who’d never had to do much to actually look pretty. Her hair, skin or outfit was always on point. That night was not an exception. 
You had a feeling she liked Namjoon. She had never told you anything or had made a move, but it seemed just too obvious. Or maybe you were just too alerted when it came to women around him. You tended to exaggerate. But you had no idea if Namjoon liked her back. 
You sat in a complete lack of movement for a moment, observing them, trying to read their body language. You were never good at that and your mind was always going places with assumptions and way too creative imagination. You shook your head. You had to focus!
They were talking, mostly she was. Namjoon was sipping his beer and listening to her. He seemed interested in her story, responding when needed, maintaining eye contact for the whole time. 
That had been you moments ago. He had been talking with you, he had sat next to you, not being asked for. But you had blown it, of course you had.
Amber laughed at something, something that Namjoon had said. He smiled at her, with that cute dimpled smile and she touched his shoulder. He didn’t react in any special way, he was looking straight into her eyes, cheerful and happy. They were having fun. Together. 
You couldn’t breathe. You had to get out of there immediately. You did everything not to run for your life and as gracefully as you were able to, you left the room. People had mostly gathered in the big room or in the garden so when you found a kitchen it was empty. It seemed abnormal but you didn’t want to question the fact you could actually be alone. And you needed that.
Seeing Amber with Namjoon was like a punch in the guts. He was not your boyfriend, a friend yes but nothing more. Yet you were jealous, so fucking jealous. Seeing them together immediately had created a scenario in your head of how they hook up at the party and you are left alone and live under the bridge. You were already making yourself cry. 
But you couldn’t stop thinking that they were perfect for each other. Pretty people together always made sense. 
She was even more gorgeous than him.
No. Nobody was.
But she was way prettier than you, not to mention yet again, she had a flawless body while you were hiding yours under millions of layers to cover up your winter fat. Coming to the party was a mistake. Namjoon didn’t want to see you, he’d just wanted to be nice.
You leaned to the counter on the kitchen island, having your back to the door and sighed. Even you were annoyed how much this small change in your appearance was affecting you. You didn’t want to be this grumpy. It was not you! Maybe you should go back home and somehow figure all this out in your head? The evening was already ruined, you were not missing anything. 
It had taken a few moments for you to calm down. You didn’t want to cry, it was not worth ruining your simple makeup that way. You took a deep breath, then another one. You closed your eyes: You were such a mess.
Namjoon was passing by the door when you were still contemplating your fate. 
“Y/N?”
You turned around, hearing your name. You were not expecting to be found there and most importantly not by him. You were pretty sure he was too invested into having fun with someone else. 
“What are you doing here?”
He came into the kitchen and stood next to you. His hood was on, although you could see his hair popping up from it. 
“What is up with you today?”, he asked again. He sounded resigned. 
“Ah, nothing really. Just go back to Amber, I don’t wanna ruin your evening.” “... who? No, I was looking for you. Wanted to make sure you’re OK. You seem so off today.”
“… oh. Thanks.” 
“You disappeared so suddenly. Did something happen?”
“No, not really…”
“Then why did you leave?”
“Um, I don’t wanna talk about this…”, you waved your hand, trying to dismiss the whole subject, making him forget about it. 
“Why? What’s going on?”, but he was insisting. 
“Nothing, it’s just me… being weird.”
“OK, now you have to tell me.”
“No! Ugh, it’s really stupid and embarrassing…”, you were already sweating through your T-shirt. 
“Tell me even more.”
You looked at him, begging with your eyes to finally drop the subject. You were already feeling new anxiety crawling on your back, because apparently there was never enough of those. But he was having none of it. He was waiting for you to say something, anything to clear the situation for him. It was really bugging him. 
You sighed. You were doomed. 
“I’m feeling really weird… Like… I’m not feeling myself right now.”, you tried to put some sense into the whole situation. “After this winter… it’s been so long and I was so busy… I just… I got fat and I hate it so much.”
You sighed again. There, you’d said it. It had sounded much more deep in your head, though. When you’d finally said it, when you’d shared your concern with him, it hit you how shallow that actually was. You were worrying about extra kgs like a teenager from an American movie. Namjoon probably had already changed his mind about you. 
But when you looked at him you saw a complete lack of any expression. He was not disgusted, amused or even bored. He was looking straight into your eyes, maybe waiting for you to say more. But when you hadn’t, he just raised his eyebrows.
“That’s all?”
You knew he hadn’t meant anything bad, but you still narrowed your eyes and looked at him with a “Don’t you dare to comment that” look. You were certain you wouldn’t take his any kind of remark easily. 
But he didn't say anything like that. He didn't comment on your words, he didn’t laugh, huffed or called you in any way. He was only looking at you with those brown eyes of his, finally adding one to one and connecting all the dots. 
“Ah, I got fat too, you know. I gained a few kgs, look.” 
Without any more explanation, he lifted his hoodie and grabbed a small roll on his waist. He was absolutely insane saying that this would be proof of him getting fat. You even wanted to say that to him, but he grabbed your hand and guided to his body. 
“See for yourself.”
You hadn’t reacted fast enough. Before you realized what was going on, your hand had landed on, well, him. You felt his warm skin under your fingertips. You’d never been this close to him. Hell, you’d never touched him like that before! You felt your cheeks getting hot and red, your hand on his waist already sweaty. 
“N-namjoon, what in the…”
“You can feel it, right? Fat.”
“Wha-Where?!”, your mind was hazy, you hadn’t thought that through.
“Oh, come on. If you squeeze it you would feel it.”
Your head was already spinning. If someone heard your conversation, weird rumors would spread in no time. 
Namjoon was still insisting you would agree with him. And seemed to be completely oblivious to your near death state. He was still holding you by your wrist and wanted to move your palm more onto his stomach. You panicked. 
“Maybe here…?”
“Oh my god, no…I don’t want-t-to!”, you were feeling like you were about to pass out.
“You don’t want to touch me?”, he giggled. 
“No, it’s not that!”
“You want to touch me?”, he started to laugh.
“Yes-NO!”, the moment those words had left your mouth, you pulled your hand from his grasp, using all the strength that you had left and hid your face in your palms, wanting to die on the spot. Your face was hot under your fingertips, you wanted to melt into the floor.
Namjoon was already laughing his ass off. He leaned on the kitchen counter to not fall on the floor. You wanted to punch him in his fake-fat stomach.
Instead of that, absolutely mortified with your previous words, you put your hood back on, pulled the strings and simply hid your already scarlet red face. You hoped it had made you invisible to him. 
“UGH. I’m embarrassed enough now, can you please leave me alone?”
Namjoon ignored your words and tried to catch his breath. He was still chuckling when you saw him standing right in front of you. 
“Not a chance.”
You heard him saying that and then his arms were wrapping around you and pulling you close to him. He hugged you. He hadn’t given you any chance to oppose in any way. Not that you wanted to. You were surprised and your heart started to beat like it was the end of your life and it had to show what it had been made of. But you didn’t do anything to push him away. Instead, you leaned your head on his chest, closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Having him so close was something you’d always wanted. 
You felt his fingers digging into you, he was slightly tithing his embrace. He was not letting you go.
“Oh, Y/N.”, he sighed. “You are so fucking weird sometimes, I swear… Maybe that’s why… I…”, his voice went really quiet, you couldn’t hear everything.  
“Why what?”, you asked, having your face still buried in him, but he didn’t answer. “Why what, Namjoon?”, your voice was muffled by his chest. 
You felt him stiffening. You looked up but his sight was already averted, he was avoiding eye contact with you. He seemed baffled, like he’d surprised himself with his own words. He’d said something he shouldn’t have. He dropped his hands from you and took a step back. You suddenly felt cold, missing Namjoon’s warmth. 
“Why what?”, you were not letting this go. “Are you going to make fun of me? Offend me? You just called me weird, I mean I should feel offended by that but…”, you wanted him to tell you what he’d said before, but you didn’t want to make all of this too serious. 
“Y/N, just drop it…”
“No, you had something on your mind. You got my attention and you just want me to drop it?”
“Yes. That is exactly what I want.”, Namjoon took another step back. 
“Oh, that’s just cruel! You were nagging me the whole evening and now you want me to DROP IT?. Come on! We are friends! We..”
“Y/N.”, he interrupted you. He pressed his lips, making a thin line of them. 
“Namjoon.”, you copied him. It just pissed him off. 
He huffed and looked away. He hid his hands in his pockets, he looked so uncomfortable. Exactly the same as you'd been just a moment ago. 
“Was it about the thing… I’ve said earlier? About being fat?”
“What? Y/N, what the hell?”, he rolled his eyes. “Why are you getting back to this?”
“You hugged me. Did you feel…”
“Can we really drop this?”, he covered his face with his palms, trying to find any sense in your conversation. He was getting a headache. 
“But you said something about me.”
“I’m going to kill myself…”, he was talking to himself.
“Do you have a problem with me…?”
“No, Y/N. I like you!”, he blurted out, just to shut you up. 
And you shut your mouth immediately. What had he just said? 
Namjoon’s face went slightly pink, he was actually blushing. Yet again, he had problems with looking at you, he was trying to focus on anything else. You could see his sight jumping around the room, him getting more flustered each passing moment. 
What had he just said?
Namjoon liked you. 
He couldn’t believe he actually had said that. Mumbling a soft confession, simply talking to himself while he had been hugging you was one thing, but screaming straight forward to finally make you stop talking was something else. He was already regretting that, putting his heart on the plate like that, without any good reason. And hope. 
Because deep down he hoped you felt the same. He was pretty sure you didn’t, though. You were just friends, good friends to be more specific. He always liked you, he hadn’t realized when his affection towards you had become something more. It must have been a slow process. One of those when you wake up one day and you are madly in love, not remembering all the steps getting there. His crush on you had been killing him lately. He had missed you, wanted to see you so bad. When you had written to him you would come to the party he couldn’t be happier. He hadn’t planned confessing, but had hoped to at least spend some time with you, alone. He liked you so much. 
Wait, Namjoon liked you? He really did? You wanted to shake your head in disbelief. That was impossible. That was so strange. That was so ironic, you could barely believe that. It hit you how you’d been killing yourself with doubts and uncertainties and it all hadn’t made any sense. Because Namjoon liked you. 
You snorted before the rational part of your brain stopped you. You simply couldn't help yourself. Next snort turned into laughter, which surprised both of you. Namjoon finally looked at you. He did not expect you to laugh at him. He hadn’t planned to confess to you that night, his words just had slipped out. It had happened and he had to deal with that. But laughing? Oh fuck, this was worse than anything he could have ever imagined. 
He was hurt. You’d hurt him. He blinked once, twice, he couldn’t believe that, he couldn't look at you anymore. He wiped his face, just to do something with his hands and took a few steps back. If that was the case, if you were laughing at his feelings, he didn’t have to stay there and listen to that. He turned around to leave the kitchen. He had to organize his thoughts, estimate the damage. 
“... Namjoon… no… wait!”, you breathed out and reached out to him. 
You manage to grab the hem of his hoodie, to stop him. You were still laughing, not getting the atmosphere that was in the room. But Namjoon was still leaving, dragging you with him. He was too strong, you were not able to pull him back. So, while still holding his hoodie you moved your other hand and tried to catch his hood. You caught the tip of it and pulled it down, just to stop him, just to slow him down. Namjoon was still running away from you so it tightened around his throat. You heard him groaning, but he finally stopped in place. 
You didn’t want to let him go, even when he turned around to face you. 
“You’re not only laughing at me but also strangling me?”
He was sulky and sad. You wanted to make sense out of all of that. It was just a misunderstanding. You finally had to stop laughing! 
“I’m not laughing at you…”, you tried to catch your breath. “I just… can’t believe it… You like me.”, you stopped for a moment, your mouth went dry from all that laughter. 
“Is it… so bad?” 
“Yes.”, Namjoon froze on the spot, feeling like someone had stabbed him straight into his face. But you knew what you wanted to say. You smiled. “I’ve been crushing on you forever and all this time… you liked me?”, you dropped your hands, to finally let him free. 
Namjoon used that moment to detangle from his hood and find a way out of the kitchen. Your words hadn’t hit him at first. 
“Wait-what? You like me too?”, his eyes went wide open. 
You were only able to nod. What was there more to say? You both had just confessed to each other, in the most awkward way possible. 
Namjoon was looking at you with his big eyes. And he was looking straight right into yours. Your cheeks became slightly pink under his intense gaze. His lips started to curl into an adorable smile. First shyly, his brain was slowly accepting new information. His dimples popping out were a sign of his full blown smile already brightening up his face. You simply felt how hot it had become in the room. 
“You like me back.”, his eyes went full crescent moons, his smile was wider than ever.
He looked down at his feet, a little embarrassed, a little overwhelmed. But he couldn't stop smiling. He looked up back at you, with his face slightly flushed but brightened up. The wave of relief that had run through him was immeasurable. 
“Not sure what to do now.”, you shifted in place. 
This time Namjoon snorted. Thankfully, none of you had understood that as laughing at the other. 
He knew exactly what to do. Or more like, he knew what he wanted to do, what he’d been thinking about for way too long. He wiped his palms into his pants. He was already sweating. Just thinking about what he was about to do was making him nervous. 
With just two steps he moved closer and stood right in front of you. He slid down your hood from your head, cupped your face and kissed you. Just like that. You’d only had a chance to gasp right before your lips met. There was no warning, no music in the background, no time to prepare. There was a pounding in your head and you weren’t sure if you didn’t collapse on the spot. 
In your mind you had been kissing him many times. You’d even prepared a scenario for your first kiss. It had never been in the kitchen, right after you complained about being fat and strangling Namjoon with his own hood. You could hear other people behind the wall. Someone was puking in the bathroom. Romanticism had gone straight to hell. 
And yet you didn’t care. You could only focus on him and how his hands had moved from your face to your neck and shoulders. His touch was gentle, like it had been the first time you even felt his hands on you. You’d been friends forever, but never anything more. That’s why you wanted more.
You wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled him closer. He was slightly surprised with your eagerness, but didn’t complain even for a second. You felt how he smiled between kisses, kissed that he was deepening each moment. You felt his tongue on yours, he tasted like beer.
He pushed his weight on you, making you step back and pressing your butt to the kitchen island's counter. He grabbed you by your waist and simply put you on it, sliding between your legs. You gasped feeling his hands on your hips, pressing you onto him. He moved his kisses on your neck, making you arch your head to the side. He was kissing you like he’d never done this before or it had been so long, he’d missed it way too much. 
His palms slid down to your thighs, spread on your body, enjoying its warmth.
“Now, where is that fat you’ve been talking about? I can see nothing of the sort.” 
You didn’t know what to say and you were not sure if he actually was waiting for anything from you. You just wanted him to touch you. 
“You’re so sexy…That’s all I can see…” 
His face was right in front of yours, he saw your shy smile. He also noticed you wanted to say something, maybe argue about that, deny being a hot piece of ass for him, so he quickly got back to kissing you to suppress any disagreement in the discussion. 
None of you heard Hoseok, your mutual friend and your roommate's boyfriend walking in. He was going around the house, from room to room and when he’d entered the kitchen, he was not expecting to see you in a make out session. And from his angle, he was able to see only you. 
“Oh hey Y/N, don’t mind me but have you seen Namjoon somewhere?”, he had no problems with interrupting you. 
Namjoon lifted up his head and looked at his friend with an annoyed expression. 
“Oh… OH. OK. In that case, do you mind putting Namjoon out of your mouth and lending him to me?”
“No.”, you meant that. Your cheeks were still pink, not sure about the reason for that anymore. 
“Joon?”
“You heard her.” 
Hoseok was so shocked and amused at the same time he simply wanted to stay and see where all of this was going. He even leaned into a door frame, folded his arms on his chest watching the show you were giving to him in the kitchen, something he had not expected to see that night. 
Or any other night. He knew Namjoon was into you and had been trying to convince him to talk to you about it. Yes, you were friends but he’d had a feeling this would end up in a good way. He liked you both, he wanted you to be happy. 
And he was fucking right. He was mentally shaking his hand for manifesting you hooking up with Namjoon. Namjoon, who was still looking at him, waiting for him to leave and let you be alone again.
Hoseok threw his arms in the air, showing how much he disapproved of the whole leaving idea, but then he left, being the best friend he always had been.
Namjoon huffed after him and quickly got back to you, already missing feeling your soft skin under his lips. He immediately wrapped his hands around you, pulling back to him. He pulled you by your hips, which made you slide on the kitchen counter, you felt him right between your legs. He was playing with the hem of your hoodie. It was getting steamy, even more than before. Namjoon was kissing you like he wanted to catch up all those years thinking he couldn't have you. 
You moaned into his mouth. You loved this, you always wanted this. Namjoon touching you, kissing you. Damn, that was a dream coming true! You wanted all of that! But maybe, not all at once? You didn’t have to score all bases possible at once. You felt he was getting more into, his touch was not that soft and gentle as before. One of his hands stayed on your hips. It sneaked under your hoodie, you felt his fingertips on your skin. You shivered. 
“May-be…”, you broke the kiss, breathing hard. It wasn’t easy, Namjoon was keeping you close to him. “I think ...we should slow down a little…”, you weren’t losing your grip on him as well, even while saying those words. 
Namjoon cleared his throat. He knew you were right. He wanted to agree and disagree with you at the same time. He’d wanted you for so long, he probably had gone too far and too fast on your first make out session. He just loved kissing you. 
“Ye-Yes. Yes, you are right.”, he was missing a lot of blood from his head and had problems with focusing. 
You touched his round cheek. His eyes were immediately on you, waiting for anything from you. You kissed him softly on his lips, still holding his face. 
Soft kiss was definitely not an invitation to something more and Namjoon knew that. He had to calm himself. He didn’t want to come out as a horny animal that couldn't control itself. You were special to him, this had to be special. 
He nodded again, agreeing with you, knowing you were right. He took a step back, dropping his hands off of you. He cleared his throat again.
“I-I think I will look for Hoseok, check what he wants from me…But don’t go, OK?”
You smiled at him and nodded. He smiled back and before he left you, he quickly adjusted himself in his pants. He seemed not to care about the fact that you’d seen that and he just left. But it hit you. He had a boner. And after making out with you, after touching you. Not perfect Amber but you, with your winter size. Your cheeks got hot and red back again. He got aroused because of you. Now, that was something to think about. 
If Namjoon had heard your thoughts he would have been back to you in an instant. He definitely had gotten too excited about your mutual confessions, he had gone too fast with making out with you. His boner was still there when he found Hoseok in front of the bathroom. He seemed to be waiting for someone, surprised to see Namjoon, after being kicked out of the kitchen. 
“What are you doing here?”
“I was looking for you…”, his voice was slightly hoarse. 
“Oh, Y/N spit you out of her mouth, good. OK, first of all: Congrats!. You’ve been in love with her for like forever and you finally scored!” 
“Wha-I did not! What are you talking about…”, Namjoon’s cheek got pink again. 
“Is that so?”
Hoseok smirked and eyed Namjoon up and down for some drama. His eyesight stopped on a still visible tent in Namjoon’s pants. He raised his eyebrows with an unspoken question. 
“And that’s because you’re so excited to see me?”
Namjoon fixed his hoodie, trying to cover himself with it.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” 
“I mean, it’s completely normal. Y/N is hot and you probably have been thinking about her all this time…”
“Why are we talking about this?”, Namjoon was losing the point of that conversation.
“There is nothing to be ashamed of! Having a boner…”
“OK, stop looking at my penis. Or maybe you like it that much?”
“Nah, thanks. I like my dates without one.”
“So, what did you want?”, arousal was quickly exchanged with annoyance.
“I wanted to say we’re leaving and if you’re not leaving with us there would be no one to drive you home.”
“I think I’ll stay with Y/N. I’ll be fine.” 
“I’m sure you will.” 
“You’re weird.” 
“So, are you gonna hit that?”
“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“Why? You want her, you always did.”
“I did. I still do, but I’m not gonna be a jerk and get in her pants a moment after we’ve confessed to each other.”
“That’s so cute. But that’s not what I saw when I’ve come into the kitchen last time.”
“Ugh, OK I know. I got carried away… I shouldn’t have thrown myself on her…”
“Nah, you should fuck her. It would ease the tension and everybody would be happy.”
“I’m not gonna tell Y/N about this. She would bite your dick off if she heard you talking shit like this.” 
“I’m not into that but you two have fun. Speaking of, let me talk with Y/N first.”
Namjoon did not understand friend’s words fast enough. He tried to stop Hoseok, worrying what he would say to you, but he smoothly passed him and went straight to the kitchen. Namjoon was mortified. 
Hoseok quickly found you, still waiting in the kitchen. You hadn’t even left the counter, you were still sitting at the spot Namjoon had left you. Surprised it was not him coming to you, you raised your eyebrows in question. 
“Y/N, congratulations on your new Namjoon!”, he screamed. 
Hoseok opened his arms to hug you. You were so confused you just went with it, without any questions. 
“I knew you would end up together. Namjoon was fapping way too hard to you.”
“That’s… that’s a very interesting TMI.”
“Yeah, maybe you should ask him about this later.”
“Maybe I will…”
“For now…”
He reached out to his back pocket and gave you a small packaging. You didn’t recognize it at first, not knowing what he was up to. But you rolled it in your palm, trying to check what was written on the plastic. It turned out to be a pack of condoms. You looked at him with another confusion and added some embarrassment to the party. 
“Why?”
“You kids stay safe.”
“We’re not…”
“There is nothing wrong with banging on the first date but make it safe!”
“I don’t think we need this right now…”, you were handing over the condoms back to Hoseok. Saying you were starting to feel uncomfortable would be a gigantic understatement. And Namjoon was somewhere near, probably hearing everything. 
“Namjoon is crazy about you. If you asked for his dick he would give it to you in an instant. He was still hard when he came to talk to me.”
“Were you always like this or is this some kind of a new trait of yours?”
“I carry about you. I want you two to be happy.”
“Thanks, mom.” 
The whole conversation was making you sweat through your clothes. You’d barely confessed to Namjoon. Were you even a couple? You liked him, he liked you, he’d gotten a boner. Was that already serious? 
You were still handing the condoms over. You didn’t know what you should do.
“Keep it. Just in case. I have more for myself, don’t worry.”
You surrendered and took condoms back just to make him stop talking about them. You hid them in your hoodie pocket, hoping there would be a trash bin somewhere near so you could throw them away. 
“OK. That is settled, so as I’ve already told Namjoon, we are leaving. You would need to find another way of getting home. Have fun and tell me about everything tomorrow!”
He hugged you again and you just waved when he was leaving the kitchen. That was a lot of events for just one conversation. You sighed heavily. Your not-a-relationship relationship with Namjoon was already stressful. 
Namjoon came back to you right after your step mom had left. He looked worried. 
“What did he say to you?”
“He gave me this.”, you showed him the condoms. 
“What the fuck… Why did he do that? We don’t need this! I mean… sure we do to have safe sex… not that we’re gonna have sex! Because we won’t! I mean today, because I don’t want to… No, I do, I really do… Y/N please tell me to finally shut the fuck up.” 
You were already shaking from laughter. You stopping him from this beautiful monologue was not an option. 
“You're definitely laughing at me way too often this evening.” 
He quickly moved closer to you and wrapped his arms around you. It had become so natural to you so fast. 
“He also told me you’ve been fapping way too hard to me.”
“Wha-That degenerate… Look who’s talking. Before he started to date his girlfriend he got blisters on his hands. Um, not saying that you’re my girlfriend now… unless… you want to?”
Somehow you missed his question. You took his palm into yours and was looking at the inside of it.
“Y/N, what are you doing?”
“I’m looking for blisters.”, how you were able to sustain a firm voice, you would never know.
Namjoon almost spit all over you while trying to suppress his laughter. He leaned more into you, hiding his face in your neck, still laughing. There was something about confessing to your friend. You’d crossed that line and had become something more but you had that friends foundation, being able to still joke around, have your inside jokes, acting like kids just because. Making Namjoon laugh would always be your favorite thing to do. 
And with that you realized the whole mood from before had been gone already. Kissing Namjoon was fantastic, you could die like that. But you’d just confessed and didn’t have to score on the points in your relationship at once, in just one night. You could wait. 
When he’d finally calmed down and had lifted his head, you asked Namjoon if you actually could go home. Maybe your own mood had gone way better than it was before, but you were getting tired anyway. You were actually excited for what was coming next. Would Namjoon text you something cute in the morning? There was a whole nother life ahead of you and you couldn’t wait.
Namjoon agreed to look for Hoseok, hoping he was still around and ask him to take both of you home. He was probably going to your place anyway, to spend some time with his girlfriend.
But Namjoon couldn’t find him. It seemed he was too late. Frustrated, he was running around the house, checking twice to make sure and grunted under his mouth. He actually had no idea who he should ask at that moment, he was hoping to spend the whole night with you at the party, even if it was to fall asleep on the couch together. 
But then someone caught his arm and stopped him. Namjoon turned around and saw Amber.
“I was looking for you everywhere. Where did you go?”
“Ah, here and there. Wanted to catch up with everyone, since I got a chance.”
“I missed you. We still haven't finished our conversation.”, she was still touching his arm, sliding up and down.
Namjoon followed her movements, with a poker face. He had had a nice chat with her before, but now he was trying to get you and him some ride home and she was wasting his time.
“I know, but it’s getting late. I would…”, he was already bucking up.
“True. So why don’t we hang out… let’s say tomorrow? I’m free tomorrow.”
“Oh. Oh, that’s nice. Thank you for the invitation but I think I’ll pass.”
“What…? Why? If you’re busy I can wait. I have a whole day just for myself.”
“Really, thank you. That’s very nice of you…”, he moved away, to be out of her reach. “But I can’t. But thank you!”
Namjoon was trying to be as polite as possible. It was nice to meet Amber at the party but he had no intentions of meeting her any other day. They were never close friends and catching up with her like that was enough for him.
“Like I said… It's getting late. I was looking for Hoseok, so he could drive me home but I cannot find him anywhere…”
“I can drive you home!”, she almost screamed. 
“Oh, really? But… you don’t live anywhere close… I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“It’s not trouble at all. I was thinking about leaving as well, anyway.”
“Oh, OK. But you would have to go to another part of the city… Is that really OK?”
“Namjoon.”, she took a step towards him. “I can drive you, don’t worry about it.”
“Well, can I take someone with me? How big is your car?”
“Someone with you…?”, Amber was confused for a moment, but she didn’t want to lose that opportunity, so she quickly smiled back. “Sure, not a problem.”
“Awesome! Then, please wait here. I’ll be back in a second!”
Namjoon ran back to the kitchen to give you the good news, happy he’d managed to find you a drive home.
Amber, on the other hand, was worrying who he was going to bring. When she’d proposed to drive him home, she was obviously hoping for some time alone. A third person was like a fifth wheel, could ruin everything. But then she saw you and had never been so relieved. She knew you were friends. Friends and nothing else. And you lived on the way to Namjoon’s home so they still would have time for themselves, after dropping you off at your place. You were zero threat to her. 
She smiled at you, like she was actually happy to see you. You were walking behind Namjoon, looking shy and out of place. She took you both to her car and to her surprise you both sat at the back seat. She wanted to ask Namjoon to sit at the front, so that it would be much more comfortable for him since there was more space, but he kindly refused. Amber only shrugged, thinking he was just taking care of you as his friend, making sure you were getting home safe. She didn’t pay that much attention to you while on the road, she didn’t see how he took your hand in his. 
When you arrived at your building, Namjoon immediately left with you, asking Amber to wait for a moment. She agreed with a big smile but she started to watch him closely. She was getting impatient. She wanted to get rid of you, you were in her way. 
Amber couldn’t hear properly what you were talking about. You both were smiling, Namjoon bit his lower lip. She was about to avert her sight, being annoyed and bored already but then she saw how Namjoon kissed you. He was holding his hands on your shoulders, you grabbed his wrists and yes, you were kissing. Not like friends, definitely not friends. Friends shouldn’t be kissing! 
That was some bullshit. No wonder he had been refusing her and leaving her at the party all that time. She hadn’t been doing anything wrong. It was not her fault. It was yours. 
Amber was pissed and felt like she had wasted way too much time for you. While being too proud to endure that kind of humiliation, Amber simply turned on the car engine and without any word, she left. 
Namjoon only heard the car driving away. 
“OK, rude…”, he was looking at the empty place on the street. “I thought… she would also drive me back home…”, he seemed pretty bummed.
You were still living a few long bus stops away from him. It was already late, he had no idea how to get home safely. There was nobody to drive him. 
“Ah, this is just great. What am I supposed to do now?”
You looked at him. You know you shouldn’t focus on that, but he looked really cute while worrying like that. 
“You know what? You can sleep over.”
Namjoon’s facial expression changed in an instant.
“Oh no, Y/N, that’s OK, you really don’t need to… I-I will be fine. Really…!”
“I said: sleepover, not move in.” 
“Uh, I know… But we can…”
“You’ve already slept here, it will be fine.”
It was true. Namjoon once had slept at your place before. He had stayed way too long and had had no options of getting home, just like that particular moment. He’d stayed with you in your bed, with you sleeping on one side and him on the other. Or at least he had been sleeping. You’d been scared to move or do anything, kept thinking he had been right there, next to you, wearing just his T-shirt and boxer shorts. Your neck had been hurting for the whole following week after laying so stiff in one place for hours. 
“But… are you sure? You really don’t need to…”
“Worst case scenario I would kick you to the bathroom and you will sleep in the bathtub.”
You knew he wouldn’t do anything against your will. You were feeling safe with him. You were past just the friends phase, but that didn’t mean sleeping together in one bed had to become something serious. 
You took his hand in yours, just like he had done that in the car and guided him to your apartment. He knew the way, but he obediently followed you. You opened the door as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake up your roommate and Hoseok probably. You wanted to spare yourself loud questions and meaningful looks. You went inside your room, Namjoon was still behind you. 
“I will just take a quick shower…”
Namjoon only smiled at you. You went to the bathroom, quickly washed yourself and dressed in comfy pajamas. You were getting really tired and wanted to just jump into your bed and fall asleep. When you opened the door you found Namjoon already there, waiting for you. His pants were hanging on your chair and their owner was laying on the side with eyes closed. He must have been very tired.
You circled the bed and tried to lay down as gently as possible. Namjoon was wearing his T-shirt, you hadn’t noticed his hoodie anywhere in the room. You covered yourself tightly with a comforter and scooped closer to him. He must have been only half asleep because when you’d been already close enough he reached to you and hugged you. You immediately complied and snuggled into him, enjoying it so much. This was not the first time Namjoon slept with you in your bed. But for the first time he was this close, he was hugging you, he was not just your friend and you were pretty sure your neck would not hurt you anymore. 
His warmth was soothing, you could feel his breath on your forehead. You fell asleep in no time, feeling as comfortable as ever.
—----
You weren’t sure if you’d been already awake or the loud noises coming straight from your friend had woken you up. You opened your eyes, it was already bright. You saw Namjoon laying in front of you, probably not sleeping as well, but pretending as hard as he could. You wanted to join him very much, but someone else was still doing the best they could to prevent that. 
You looked up and finally discovered who was the source of all that noise. When your vision cleared up, washing away all what was left from your sleep, you saw Hoseok standing right above you and Namjoon. He looked pissed.
“... what?”, you tried to ask what he was doing there, but your brain could only process that one word.
“... do you have any idea what you have done? Why were you not thinking…?”
You blinked a few times. You knew he was talking, loudly and probably more to himself than to you, but you had a hard time catching single words and their meaning anyway.
Why was he mad at you in the first place?
You lifted yourself on your elbow to see him better. Namjoon was earning his Oscar for a fake sleep all this time, you didn’t have that in yourself to interrupt him. You tried to focus on a person standing behind him, next to your bed.
And then something hit your face. You shuddered, taken completely out of guard. You took a glimpse at a small object laying on your comforter. Condoms. Condoms that Hoseok had given you. The same ones. The ones you’d left in your hoodie, which had probably fallen to the floor. 
You looked up at your friend with condoms in your hand.
“I told you to stay safe!”, he was near crying right in front of you. 
When you realized what he was talking about, why he was screaming at you, you rolled your eyes so hard you felt them scratching the back of your skull. He was still playing your mom role, taking care of you even if you didn’t want that. 
You discarded the condom on the floor and laid back on the bed. Hoseok huffed in disbelief, you ignoring him in that kind of matter was unacceptable. You couldn’t care less. You rolled in your spot, back to Namjoon to be a small spoon and moved back to feel him on your body. Without hesitation he tossed his arm around your waist and hugged you. He hid his face in the back of your neck, laughing at the whole situation. He had been listening to everything and had the time of his life. You only pinched him on his wrist as punishment. You had all the time in the world with him. You stopped hearing Hoseok in the background. He’d become just a noise. You smiled to yourself and closed your eyes, feeling as happy as ever.
281 notes · View notes
kyph3r · 3 months
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BOYFRIEND NAMJOON HCS ♡
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paring: bf!namjoon x fem!reader
genre: established relationship, fluff, smut
AN: my first post 😭😭😭 hopefully people like this!! also this is like barely edited so if there are any grammar mistakes i'm so sorry
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SFW HCS-
• when you guys first start dating it's kinda awkward, but as time goes by he gets better
• loves going on dates with you, favorite places to go would definitely be the museum or just a stroll around a park, loves being in your presence
• sitting down and having long drawn out conversations would also be something he enjoys, probably one of the reasons you got together
• his confession was probably a scramble of words, him cutting himself off and stuttering until you grabbed him and said you felt the same way
• will accidentally just sit and stare at you, no conversation at all and be very embarrassed when you catch him
• “joonie, is there something on my face, why are you staring at me like that?” “oh uh there's nothing on your face, i was just zoning out” and his face is beet red
• after all of the awkwardness he becomes very flirty and bold, it kinda knocks you off guard
• will come up to you and flirt just to see you get flustered, finds it very amusing
• loves using pet names, baby and princess being his favorites, but when he hears you calling him something sweet, a part of him melts
• the word baby comes out your mouth and suddenly he's blushing, kicking his feet in the air like a schoolgirl
• has a jealous streak, if someone looks at you for a second too long he's immediately pulling you closer to him
• not very fond of pda but if he sees someone interested in you or if he is just too needy he'll give you little pecks or put his arm around your waist
• he's just such a gentleman, doing all the basic stuff like giving you his jacket, holding the door open for you, pulling your chair out, it's very endearing
NSFW HCS-
• kinda perverted, you could do be doing the most mundane thing like stretching and he'd already be getting hard
• was very embarrassed about this in the first stages of you guys dating but once he saw that you were just as needy for him his whole attitude changed
• definitely a dom, but focused more on your pleasure than anything else
• likes saying nasty stuff in your ear like “you were just made to take it, huh?” and “listen to yourself, already dumb and i'm not even close to being finished with you” and watching your reaction
• likes getting on top of you and caging you in with his arms, thinks it's cute that you have nowhere else to look but at him
• but also really likes you being on top of him, watching you struggle to ride him and get yourself off, it always ends with him grabbing your hips and doing it for you
• secretly likes making you all worked up and desperate, he’ll walk in before he has to go somewhere and whisper dirty things in your ear, grabbing your hips and kissing all over you, then just leave like he didn't just make you insanely horny
• he always makes it up to you though by fucking you into the mattress when he gets back dw
• always gets harder when you start whining and begging for him, he hears you moan “joonie it's not enough, i need it inside, faster!” and he snaps, folding you in half
• is definitely the type to moan and groan, especially when he's close
• he'll let out little choked noises and start saying the sweetest things in your ears, totally different from the way he's pounding in to you
• while he is usually very rough, he knows when to take it easier on you and can always flip the switch from domineering to caring
• you tell him you've had a rough day and he'll do whatever he can to make you feel better, whether that be eating you out until you forget about what happened or slowly making love to you
• aftercare with him is always sweet, he's always gentle with handling you and will whisper thank yous into your ear until you fall asleep
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255 notes · View notes
veethefreeelf · 6 months
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RM / KIM NAMJOON Fic Recs (II)
M - Mature (minors DNI) / F - Fluff / A - Angst / HpE - Happy Ending
None of these works are mine, I tagged all the authors, make sure to go to the authors page, like and reblog their works
prohibido Series by @personasintro- full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
Try Again - one-shot, 11.5K - by - @bangtanfancamp - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
it's december (and i still want you) - one-shot, 16.7K - by @smoochkooks - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
Good to Me - one-shot, 10.3K - by @httpjeon - full Masterlist -> M / F / HpE
nice guys finish last - one-shot, 16.2K - by @ktheist - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE
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joheunsaram · 2 years
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Discord Discourse (knj)
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summary- Kim Namjoon likes to spend time in a discord server... dedicated to him. With new friends and a budding crush, will he ever be able to truly be himself without revealing who he is?
word count- 2.8k
pairing- idol!Namjoon x fanfic writer!Reader
rating- PG15
genre- internet relationships, s2(maybe)lovers, angst, fluff, slightly smutty
warnings- pretty angsty, a little sexting but not actual sexting, superficial conversations portrayed as deep (lol im sorry I didn’t want to make this too long), infatuation, open ending, talks of a daddy kink
a.n.- this was not supposed to Joon’s bday drabble but it somehow ended up so lol. this is for all my fic writers out there. please don’t hate me for what the reader did... there may or may not be another part in the works oops lol
Thanks to the beautiful @raplinesmoon​ for helping me brainstorm, beta and fix the ending!!
As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌
- Kim Namjoon had a bad habit.
It wasn’t like watching too much porn, although it was somewhat like that. It wasn’t googling himself to read comments on his videos, although it was somewhat like that. It wasn’t talking to his fans incognito, although it was exactly like that.
Sitting in his room, in his boxers, he had all the lights off. His eyes were fixated on his screen, two fingers hovering over the touchpad of his laptop as he scrolled periodically. He pushed his glasses back, his face luminated by the blue light of his screen and swallowed, ignoring the way his stomach knotted and his face heated.
Kim Namjoon had a bad habit. And it all started when he joined a random discord server named after his studio. Of course he never revealed himself. To the unsuspecting largely female members, he was John, an autocorrect happenstance that granted him his anonymity. Not that anyone would believe he was him anyway. Not in these circles.
He thought it would be cute to interact with his fans when his new solo song came out, a way to practice his English. He wanted to know their reactions and their criticisms without the love. Little did he know that all he would get was affection and that affection would not only feed his dwindling ego but give him a dopamine rush that had become so addictive it had his heart racing every time a notification popped on his phone.
monolover: omgggggg did you see joon in the new mv???? I’m fucking dying! moonchild: yes I want to lick his whole body! GODDAMN HES PERFECT!!! joonsbicycle: honestly if he’s not getting every inch of his body worshipped rn whats even the point of life? moonlover: I volunteer as tribute! God the things I would let that man do to me!!!
He chuckled at the thread, lower lip caught between his teeth and looked around his dark room. The silence in the air was deafening. He liked his home. He was proud of his collection, making it look like an art museum, beautiful and untouchable. The wooden accents and the plush furniture was comforting but they felt cold.
There was no one there to worship his body. There was no one even there to kiss him. Which is why this was a bad habit. He shouldn’t be getting happy sucked into this small world of eight women who had somehow unlocked more kinks in him than should be possible. And he really shouldn’t be holding his breath when your name showed that you were typing.
It was unhealthy to be almost in love with someone who he didn’t even know. Yet when your message popped up, his heart skipped a beat and his boxers got tighter.
yn: if namjoons sitting alone rn it’s a crime!!! I would be on my knees in front of him marking those thighs fuckkk. yn: speaking of! new super smutty fic is out reblog for good skin lol I really hope he never finds my blog he would be traumatized.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” Namjoon whispered as he stared into the dark abyss in front of him, imagining you crawling towards him, your lips travelling up his legs, your teeth leaving indentations between the muscles.
When he first joined the server, he had been immediately drawn to you. Perhaps it was because he had joined right after he posted about his plans for opening a gallery and the first thing he saw was your in depth analysis on an artist you admired but he had never heard of. It made him eager to post about art too and gave him the push to step away from his nerves and talk. He expected to be told that he was boring and that nobody cared. He was used to that. But the server was inviting, asking questions and letting him soliloquize about paint strokes and abstractions. They welcomed him with open arms without knowing who he was, especially you.
You asked him probing questions that made him think, re-evaluate his stances, and then you turned out to be something out of his wet dreams. The more time he spent on the server, he realized it wasn’t just a place to discuss his and his team’s music and accomplishments. It was a place where they also discussed how attractive he was. In full uncensored detail.
After only a month, he had read every single work of fiction you had created, all of them featuring him. The other members of the server were writers too, but somehow he only found your works alluring. The first thing he read was a whopping ninety thousand word story about heartbreak and love and perseverance. It had him tearing up with his character, a broken man who worked a dead end job.
He had praised it and the moment you told him it was supposed to be an anti capitalist piece, he read it all over again. This time he caught the nuances and critiques of a system he hated and was a part of — just like the Namjoon in the story. You had never met him, yet his fictional self made all the decisions he would make, felt the things he would feel, and after a really long time, he felt like he was seen. His fictional self wasn’t an idol, he wasn’t famous or beloved. He was just himself and it made his longing for a normal life seem… well, normal.
With time, he used your stories to teleport himself into worlds he wouldn’t experience, into situations he would never be in, and he felt alive. Seeing himself from your eyes made him feel incredible, invincible, even if you were practically a stranger.
So without any further ado, he clicked the link you sent and lost himself in a new world. A world where he was apparently a sex god that could make you cum six times in a row. He was hard by the time he finished the short story, and then he read it again, wanting to memorize the moves you so desired. He knew he would never meet you in real life. He had been lucky but he would never get that lucky. Yet he did it, stroking himself as he imagined how you would sound. Your female characters always whimpered when teased and moaned his name breathily. Would he ever get to hear you whimper?
As if reading his mind, you sent him a message.
yn: don’t get too turned on reading the new story. I want you to figure out the hidden meaning 🤪 john: what hidden message is in jisoo calling Namjoon daddy? yn: john we all know you love when I call Namjoon daddy in my fics lol but look deeper 👀 john: it’s only cause it seems like your characters love saying daddy. Anything you wanna confess babe? yn: ughhhhh I hate that you all know my kinks because of this!!! tell me when you see it
Namjoon read the piece again, ignoring how turned on he was to find nuances, and then he read the description of the room, a description he had skimmed over to get to the good parts. How did he miss that?
john: theyre fucking in prison?! john: WHY IS NAMJOON IN PRISON?! john: I thought you said he would be a good guy! He’s always a good guy in your fics!!! yn: don’t get all emo on me. He could be falsely imprisoned lol yn: but nah I put him in prison as an allegory. Like how life can feel like you’re caged in but you forget about that feeling if you have someone you love by your side. yn: ugh I hate explaining stuff makes me feel like a belong on r/verydeep HAHAHHA john: that’s actually fucking profound. Who knew porn could be art? 😝 yn: sex with me is always art thank you very much john: yeah I bet it is, baby. I wouldn’t mind you calling me daddy anytime.
Namjoon blinked as soon as he registered what he had sent, his heart pounding in panic. He had always had these thoughts about you. He never thought he would tell you any of them. What was fucking wrong with him?! Did he really think a few flirting comments from you gave him free reign to sext! God he was like the terrible men on Tinder, just a testosterone filled Neanderthal focused on sex. Fuck!
yn: as hot as I find out intellectual discourse I really wouldn’t sext with a stranger. you could be like twelve for all I know
Namjoon perked up at the message. You technically didn’t say you didn’t want to, just that you wouldn’t. Perhaps he stood a semblance of a chance when it came to you. Perhaps all the texting and subtle flirting made you like him too.
john: as a matter of fact I turned 28 today. so I’m definitely not twelve yn: ha you’ve been reading too many of my fics your bday really the same as Joons?
Oh… he hadn’t thought through about this piece of information. Of course you knew when your favourite celebrity’s birthday was! But hey a lot of people have birthdays at the same time.
john: virgins unite baby john: VIRGOS! I MEANT VIRGOS! yn: lmfao not helping your case john: how do I prove I’m of age yn: honestly idk yn: guess no sexting for us. rip. john: well… what if we do a voice chat? john: not that I just want to sext you! john: it’ll just be nice to hear your voice and get to know you better yn: ha I’m not going to sext you daddy 🤣 yn: but sure I like talking to you (yn calling)
Namjoon’s eyes widened at the screen, his throat dry. He hasn’t expected this easy acquiescence. He thought you would just blow him off, but after months of daily chats he should’ve anticipated that you’d be comfortable enough to chat with him. Taking a deep breath, he clicked the little green phone to pick up.
“Hello.”
“Hey! Wow, your voice is really deep. Somehow even though your name is John I expected a girl,” you giggled and it was a rush of endorphins tapped right into his veins. Your voice was nothing like he imagined. Where he thought of you to have a high pitched, slightly princess-ey tone, your real voice was lower, an alto with a rasp that made him weak. He wanted to listen to it everyday.
“So does this prove I’m not a twelve year old?” he teased, hiding his nerves with a confident bravado you preferred in the fictional Namjoon.
“Nah. But I really want to talk about this book I’m reading because it’s so funny and dumb in the best way and I could care less how old you were,” you replied. He chuckled as you launched into a rant about this romance series you were reading about a group of men who read romance to solve their romantic problems. Namjoon lost himself a little in the similarities between himself and the plot. Wasn’t he also reading romance to mold himself into a perfect man, albeit he was trying to woo the author herself, but still. However as you continued, he thought about how exceptionally stupid it was for him to even attempt to seek out something other than friendship with you.
It wasn’t as if he could just ask you out and take you on a date. He couldn’t hold your hand or kiss you under the lamplight of a rain soaked street. He only knew your first name and if your accent was any indication, you most likely didn’t live anywhere near him. Should he really try to start something if he knew for a fact that he couldn’t give you the romance that he knew you wished for?
Decision made, his nerves eased and he listened to your rants, discussing the novel he had never read. He couldn’t let his heart get involved. If you love someone, set them free, isn’t that what they said? Well he would set you free to meet the guy of your dreams. You didn’t actually like him, you had mentioned to him time and time again that the Namjoon in your stories wasn’t based of off the real one, and other than light teasing,  you had made no indication that you thought his alter ego ‘John’ was up to your standards either. No matter which persona he was, he didn’t fit you, so for the sake of the only freeing friendship he had, he decided it was better not to complicate things.
At least until you said your next words.
“Want to hear about my next story? I think I’m going to write my first idol fic. Something about the loneliness of fame, of how isolating it seems,” you pondered out loud, and Namjoon hated how much he already related to the story.
“Tell me about it. Fame fucking sucks,” he commented, momentarily forgetting his disguise.
“Are you famous, John?” you asked, a teasing grin visible over the line, making Namjoon contemplate whether to come clean. At 3am, his impulsivity was at an all time high so without any forethought of consequences, he hit the camera icon.
The screen split into two, the left side showing his dark room before he clicked on his bedside lamp. The bright light blinded him momentarily, his hand automatically rubbing his eye before he sheepishly looked at the camera. He heard nothing from you but could see your icon showing you were still on the call.
“Hi… umm I guess I’m kinda famous,” he said, laughing uncomfortably. The longer the silence went on, the more his nerves clawed at him, making him flush so deeply, he wished he could turn back time.
“What… the… fuck?”
He heard you whisper before the call disconnected. Staring at the chat, he tried to overcome the sudden wave of dejection at your rejection. It was a logical response. You had said multiple times you wished he never read your works, of course you were taken aback to learn about him, about who he really was. He should give you some time to catch up.
But patience was never Namjoon’s strong suit, so he messaged almost immediately.
john: please say something
You didn’t reply for an hour even when your icon had a tiny green circle next to it, indicating that you were still there.
yn: I am really really sorry about all the fics and the rude comments. I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable and I apologize if these conversations were creepy or disturbing. Just know that you are a great source of inspiration for me and I hope you keep making amazing music for me and other fans. Thank you so much for your hard work. I will delete my blog if you like and I won’t bother you again, john. yn: I mean Namjoon. yn: really sorry again. yn: also happy birthday!
Namjoon stared at his screen cursing at himself for ruining almost a year long friendship for a moment of loneliness. You had said you made him uncomfortable but he was sure that if anyone was uncomfortable it was you. Bracing himself, he decided to answer the only way he knew how. Honestly.
john: Please don’t apologize. You have never made me uncomfortable Y/N. Please believe me.  I really do enjoy your stories and talking to you. I would consider us friends if you’d have me.
As soon as he pressed enter he got a response. Only it wasn’t one he was expecting.
Your message could not be delivered. This is usually because you don't share a server with the recipient or the recipient is only accepting direct messages from friends. You can see the full list of reasons here: https://support.discord.com/hc/en-us/articles/360060145013
His hands shook as he wrote another message only to get the same message in return. After a year of friendship it seemed that he should’ve just hid his true self after all. Shutting his laptop, fell onto his back on the bed, lying to himself that he was okay and that it didn’t hurt.
Opening your blog on his phone, he was relieved to see it still up. Heart pounding in a last ditch effort, he raced to send you a message. Copy pasting his earlier words from discord, he hoped that this time they reached you.
He was ecstatic when the script under his text changed from delivered to seen, his heart soaring in the effervescence of hope. You never replied back, at least not till his eyes were scratchy from staring at the screen and his lids were heavy from sleep.
Kim Namjoon had a bad habit. But if he could salvage his friendship with you, he had no intentions of breaking it.
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taglist -  @awhnamjoon​ @alpacaseoks @raplinesmoon @codeinebelle @aislinnstanaka@miscelunaaa @moonchild1 @shydestinyyouth @itsjaneeet @piecesofapril11@yoontaethings @jeonyreads @pb-n-juju @everythingaboutfangirling @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997
Thank you for reading this fic! If you liked it, please tell me your thoughts. I appreciate your feedback!
Please reblog and check out more stories on my masterlist <3
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effortandmore · 1 year
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worth all your while (ch.4) | knj x reader
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chapter summary: you've been with namjoon for 100 days and you both have surprises up your sleeves for each other. this is pure, sickening fluff and some smut. like... tooth-rotting, ridiculous fluff. i'm almost ashamed.
pairing: namjoon x f!reader
rating: explicit (18+ please)
genre: smut, fluff, light angst, au: famous, but not an idol
chapter warnings: just copious amounts of fluff. like WAY too much fluff. smut, face-fucking, handcuffs (but soft), edging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex
chapter word count: ~5.5k (total 23.8k)
a/n: hello, im almost embarrassed about all the fluff. it's really over the top in a way that i don't normally write. thanks to my friends, @ugh-yoongi and @the-boy-meets-evil for looking this over, i appreciate you both!
previous chapter | next chapter | read on ao3
It’s been almost one hundred days since you ran into Namjoon at a random duty-free shop in Heathrow. Time has passed quickly, and it’s gone like this:
It’s been wintery days slipping into spring. The snow on the peaks melts, the cherry blossoms and wildflowers begin to rise out of their hibernation, the world around you comes back to life. You and Namjoon hike together as the trails thaw, you run a little bit when the sun comes out, and you realize both that he’s in way better shape than you and that he pretends he isn’t so that you feel better about it. It’s pretty nice.
It’s been slow days (and long nights) filled with you and Namjoon defiling every single surface in his apartment, his studio, your apartment (sorry Jimin), a couple of alleyways, the backseat of the car his company always sends for him, and exactly one public park bench. 
It’s included anxious days of you asking for, and getting permission to tell Seokjin, your mom, and your sister about Namjoon and what he’s starting to mean to you. Seokjin, who is in deep with his girlfriend and seeing everything through rose-colored glasses, is ecstatic. Your mom asks when you’ll give her grandchildren, your sister asks how you “scored someone so far out of your league, for real.” 
(And then she asked if you could get her an autograph. Namjoon said yes while you had her on speakerphone, because he’s endlessly kind. In turn, that led to you throwing your hand over his mouth, him licking your palm in retaliation, and then the two of you forgetting your sister was on the phone in favor of making out on his sofa while her protests were muffled, phone lost between the cushions beneath you.
That was the time you learned he didn’t actually mind being bossed around a little. He said he sort of liked how you stopped him from speaking, cheeks pink and voice soft. Later, you had him underneath you, hands bound carefully to his headboard as he begged for you to do something, anything to give him a little release, and you told him how good he was in approximately sixteen different ways before you gave in. After, he thanked you for edging him so thoroughly, and thanked you for finally letting him come, and thanked you again with his tongue in a complete role reversal. 
You still don’t know when your sister hung up, but you did find a text from her the next morning letting you know that you were “disgusting and mom would be so disappointed in you.”) 
It’s been days of being taken by surprise. Jimin and Taehyung weren’t part of your disclosure plan, but they know about him now, too. One weekend—according to Namjoon, who is much better at keeping track of these things than you are, it was around day sixty of your… situation—they said they were going to Busan to see Jimin’s family and would be gone until Sunday night. Namjoon had come over approximately five minutes after your roommates left, and the two of you, with every good intention, had ordered pizza and flipped on a movie. The road to hell is paved with good intentions and all, because there was almost no time before he had you on your hands and knees, gripping the back of the sofa, and trying not to moan or whine or scream too loud. Then you heard the keypad at your apartment door and couldn’t figure out in your one-orgasm-in-already brain why the pizza guy would be trying to let himself in. The shriek that Taehyung let out when he pushed the door open let you know that it was not, in fact, the delivery guy. 
Jimin forgot his wallet. 
They’d made it all the way to Seoul Station to catch the KTX before they’d realized. “We were all the way there,” Tae whined, now seemingly undeterred that you and Namjoon were absolutely naked and mid-fuck. Namjoon pointed out (with a weak laugh and his dick softening inside you) that he was the only one in the room not making it all the way anywhere that night. Taehyung had high-fived him over your head for getting you there first at least and followed that up with, “Man, you look so familiar,” while you and Jimin stared at each other, both a little mortified.
“I’m still fucking naked,” you said, trying to get anyone to understand the gravity of the situation. Jimin grabbed a throw blanket and tossed it to Namjoon, who really was just doing his best given the circumstances. Once you were both dressed and your roommates had booked tickets on the first morning train, you introduced them properly to Namjoon and shared your pizza with them while they asked endless questions about your relationship. It was… memorable.
And mostly, the days have passed with date after date after date: movie nights at his place, dinners at quiet restaurants with private tables, picnics on temple grounds and in parks, and taking in small concerts of artists he knows from the darkest corners of backstage. Whatever you do now, you find time to talk. You have a lot of things in common and a lot of things to teach each other. Conversation generally flows pretty freely with you, and when it doesn’t, you find you don’t really mind being quiet with him, either. Sometimes, there are late nights where he is somewhere deep in his own thoughts, writing lyrics and chewing on his pen while you read with your head in his lap and let his fingers tease at your hair.
Those nights are your favorite. 
Ever since he’d told you around a mouthful of hotteok that he wanted to spend each day with you, it had pretty much happened. He doesn’t even let work obligations deter him. 
He’s decided the best sort of torture is to show up at art show openings and gallery events when he knows you’re working. Namjoon must be a glutton for punishment, because he claims to like only being able to look at you from across the room, making casual conversation with you like you’re solely professional acquaintances, brushing his hand across your hips when he passes you in crowded exhibit spaces and hoping only you notice the way his fingertips linger. At first, it was distracting, and it still is, but you like the way he gets your heart racing just from being in close proximity, the way he flashes you his dimples when he thinks he can get away with it… You think you might like the danger of being caught. 
(There was one particularly close encounter: you were backed against a wall outside the restrooms of a small museum, Namjoon had you caged in close, close, close and was telling you all the really interesting things he’d been thinking about doing with you when you came over to his place later. Your whole body felt hot, particularly the skin under your ear where he was speaking low and raspy, breath brushing your cheek, your neck… And then your boss had come around the corner, and the only thing saving you was her 100 mm heels which told you she was coming just before she could spot you. Namjoon jumped away and fussed with the button of his suit jacket. “I’d love to continue this conversation another time,” he said quickly, flashing you the same kind of staged smile you’d seen him give to strangers thousands of times. 
But when you did end up at his place later, there was no conversation to be had. Your knees hit the floor at the same time his dress slacks did, and you gave him exactly the scene he’d laid out for you in the museum, eyes teary and pupils blown as you swallowed him down and let him fuck your throat until he came. No talking after, either, since your throat was raw, but he made you tea with honey and ran you a bath with lavender salts and made sure you didn’t have to lift a finger for the next 24 hours.) 
So, it’s been almost one hundred days since you ran into Namjoon at a random duty-free shop in Heathrow. This fact is not lost on you, not one little bit, because he’s been a complete nervous wreck since the beginning of the week. He called you on Monday to see if you remembered that it was coming up this weekend, rambling about how important it is, how he’s going to make sure you have the best day, how he wanted you to know he hadn’t forgotten. 
It would have been cute, like practically everything else he ever does, except… You had forgotten. So his phone call on Monday kicked off five days of sheer panic for you, begging Jimin to help you find a gift, scrambling to get your Saturday assignment covered, and calling your mother to see if she had any advice. 
(Her advice was to pretend you hadn’t remembered, not buy a gift, and see what he got you first so that you would know the right ballpark. It explained a lot about why she’d been single for so long.)
“Baby?” 
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Theoretically, when does your passport expire?” 
You sigh. “We’re not leaving the country, Namjoon.” 
“Too much?” He sounds somehow disappointed and relieved at the same time. You can almost picture the look on his face, the way his nose crinkles a little when he hears or says something he doesn’t like. 
“Too much,” you affirm. 
“Okay.” You hear him take a deep breath. “Hobi, she says that’s too much.” 
In the background, you hear Hoseok cackling, and you try your hardest not to join him. It’s not that you think there’s anything about what Namjoon is doing to laugh at, it’s just that he’s so fucking adorable that you feel like you might burst. That affection is crawling and scratching at the inside of your chest and it has to come out somehow. 
“I bet you’ll think of something perfect,” you say. “I just want to spend it with you. Doesn’t matter what we do, you know?” 
There’s a pause; you know he’s turning your words over in his mind. Then he lets out a long sigh. “You’re so right. Just us. Maybe I’ve been overthinking it when it should just be simple.” 
“Simple,” you agree fondly.
“Okay, gotta go, but I’ll see you tonight?” 
“See you tonight.” You like him so much you could cry. 
When it’s been 99 days, Namjoon shows up at your apartment unusually early. It’s a Friday morning, and he’d told you not to make plans. Apparently, he’s enlisted your roommates for help, which is an unnerving development because they know too much and there’s no way they should be able to contact your… friend at will and vice versa. 
Taehyung wakes you up before eight in the morning promising coffee and something that sounds like, “a good dicking, but not from me, of course.” You roll out of bed at the idea of coffee and make your way to the kitchen, where you find both of your roommates with shit-eating grins on their faces and Namjoon with a nervous one on his. You can’t think of a time you’ve seen him dressed this early—he is decidedly not a morning person, preferring to stay up until just before the sun comes up and wake up sometime near noon. When you do see him at this hour, it’s usually when he’s naked and sleeping with a little bit of drool coming out of the side of his mouth. It’s much cuter than it sounds. You can fully admit to yourself that you’re pretty far gone for him if you think he’s adorable, sexy even (in a way), when he’s a snoring, drooling mess. 
“Hi,” you say, after realizing you’ve just been standing in the living room staring at him. “Should I get dressed?” 
Instead of answering, Namjoon takes a few steps closer to you and shoves his arm out, producing what appears to be a plant. “This is for you,” he says. “I know it’s not a ring, but I wasn’t sure I would pick one you liked, and I didn’t want to fuck it up, so... I got you this instead.” 
“It’s a bonsai.”
He smiles softly. “Yeah, a Chinese Elm. It’s easy to take care of, I promise. I can help you. This one is twelve years old, so he’s pretty established.” 
“Oh… Okay. Thank you.” You’re not sure what to say—no one’s ever given you a tree before. And it definitely wasn’t what you’d been expecting for a gift. 
Jimin is practically squirming on his barstool, like he’s about to jump out of his skin. “Tell her what you told us,” he says. 
Namjoon flushes pink immediately, and his voice drops a little. “I asked them if they thought it was an okay gift. It’s supposed to symbolize devotion.” 
You think you forget how to breathe momentarily. All of a sudden, the little tree in your hands seems a lot heavier and more fragile than it did before. 
“It’s perfect...” You know you sound totally done for, reverent even. But it matches how you feel. 
He leans in and gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Glad you like it. We’ll have to think of a name this weekend.” He no longer sounds nervous, but excited about naming the tree, and it’s the newest topper to the list of endearing things about Kim Namjoon. 
“Coffee first, though?” you ask. “Please, coffee.” Because if you’re being honest, this is all a lot to process pre-eight in the morning. 
Taehyung and Jimin snicker and you remember you’ve had an audience this whole time. “You promised coffee,” you whine, directed squarely at Tae. 
Namjoon has that, too. A perfect, still-hot americano from the place you like by his apartment, which you know because it’s in one of their fancy branded glass travel mugs with the wooden lids that you always ogle but never buy because they’re stupid expensive for what they are. “To-go cup,” he says. “So you can drink it in the car.” He hands it to you, so you have a tree in one hand and your precious drink in the other, and then he turns you around by your shoulders and sends you back to your room. “Pack a bag for two nights, nothing fancy, no passport needed.” And then in a rush, he adds, “If that’s okay with you.” 
When you look over your shoulder at him, he looks soft and hopeful and exactly like the kind of person you’d follow to the moon and back. “Okay, two nights. Nothing fancy,” you repeat. “How long do I have?” 
“As long as you need,” he says, knowing full well you rarely take as long to get ready as he does, so it’s not that much of a concession. Still kind, though. 
You shower, get dressed, and do your skincare, all the while thinking about the man sitting in your living room, speaking in hushed voices with your roommates. Practically one hundred days and you still don’t really have a name for the thing between you—you don’t call him your boyfriend, you don’t talk about the future much, neither of you have said “I love you,” although you’re starting to feel like it’s going to roll off your tongue at any moment, which is terrifying at only three months in. 
There are books and movies where this kind of thing happens, and one of the partners is always worried about where the other one stands. Sometimes, you think the idea that you don’t even know what to call him when you talk about him should scare you. But it mostly doesn’t. Whatever the feelings are between you, they feel solid. There’s a tiny nagging feeling that you don’t know for sure if he’s only seeing you, but even that doesn’t seem like too big of an issue. Partly because you don’t think he’d really have time to date anyone else, but mostly because he gives you what you need regardless of what he might be giving to other people. So, you think, would it really matter? 
And then you see the tree sitting on your desk, the tree that supposedly means devotion, and you have a passing thought that it might be nice if he were devoted to you. And if you were to him. And if you only were to each other. And maybe your 100 days is the right time to tell him that. 
Maybe. 
You grab the envelope you’d had sitting there on your desk since Wednesday, your own strange gift for Namjoon, and you shove it in your purse. Just maybe you’ll give it to him, you think.
The drive as you leave Seoul is nice, as the buildings become more spread out and the landscape gets a little more verdant. You still aren’t used to the idea that someone just… drives him around, and by connection just drives you around, but it’s nice to share headphones with Namjoon in the backseat and watch the scenery pass and not have to think about anything. You think you’re close to falling back asleep as the minutes pass, with the white noise of the road and Nujabes in your ear and Namjoons fingers tangled with yours on the seat between you, his thumb tapping out an indistinct rhythm against your own.
And you definitely do sleep, waking with a start when the car pulls to a stop. Namjoon just woke up, too, you can tell by the blurry look in his eyes and the half stretch he gives like he always always does when he first comes to after sleep. You love knowing that about him, love all the little ticks and quirks that are so distinctly him all blending together into a person you care about, a complete person you might be starting to love more than you love each of the small pieces of him.  
“Where are we?” you ask quietly, looking out the window. 
“Nowhere,” he says. “Or… somewhere, but I don’t know what the town is called? There’s not much of a town anyway.” 
“Pretty,” you note as you open the door to see you are surrounded by trees. “Trees everywhere.” 
“It’s nice, right?”
“Really nice.” 
You’re a little wide-eyed as you look around. Because you don’t have a car or too many local friends, you don’t leave Seoul often. You definitely don’t go to places like this where the air feels thinner and lighter and the sun is blocked and dappled by leaves and needles instead of buildings. When you turn around, you see that on the other side of the car there is a house. A small house with a flat roof, a deck that’s bigger than the house itself, and seemingly endless windows. 
“A friend owns this place,” Namjoon says, coming to stand beside you. “Thought it would be nice to get away for a couple days.” 
“It’s beautiful.”
“Glad you think so,” he whispers. His breath against your ear makes you shudder and you don’t even pause anymore to wonder why he still has that effect on you. 
When your bags are inside, the driver leaves with a promise to come back Sunday midday to bring you back to Seoul. There’s a brief moment of worry that you don’t have food and your phone doesn’t have service and there’s no way that even Yogiyo makes it all the way out to where you are. You can’t even hear another person. 
“Joon-ah?” 
“Yeah?”
“What if we get hungry?” 
You can hear the smile in his voice when he answers even though you’re in the front room of the small house and he’s back in the bedroom. And as he tends to do, he gives you a simple answer to a simple question. “Then I think we’ll eat, baby.” 
“We didn’t get food.” 
Namjoon pads down the hallway toward you, rubbing his glasses on his shirt like a heathen who doesn’t care at all if he scratches the lenses. He probably doesn’t—you haven’t even been able to count how many different pairs he has. “No, we didn’t. But that’s because I already took care of it.” 
He walks past you into the kitchen and opens the fridge, which is already stocked. You follow him and peer over his shoulder. “All my favorites. Lots of fruit!” You’re a little bit excited—fresh fruit is expensive and indulgent and you don’t let yourself buy it too often for your own apartment, and Namjoon lives off of delivery, so he never has much around, either. 
“That’s right.” He gives you a smug grin as he closes the fridge, then turns around and pulls you in close. “All your favorites.” 
“You’re very thoughtful.” 
“I want,” he says softly and without breaking eye contact, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone, “to give you everything you want.” And even though it’s a little cheesy, you really, really believe him. You’re pretty sure the two of you aren’t talking about fruit anymore. 
“Good,” you say, giving him your cheekiest grin, “because I have a long list and it starts in the bedroom.” You drag him, laughing, behind you back to the room to get started on your unwritten list. 
In the morning, you wake up earlier than you normally would without the usual darkness of Namjoon’s bedroom to shield you from the sun. It’s nice though, the warm light easing you out of sleep, casting pretty shadows across the floor. 
“Morning, baby,” he mumbles into your hair. “Sleep okay?” 
You did. You slept better than okay after a long night of sex and laughing and talking and eating your beloved fruit on someone else’s sheets. “Mmhmm,” you murmur, crowding into his space even more, wrapping your arm over his torso. “You?”
“Always sleep well with you,” he says. 
It’s not always actually true, and you know it, but statements like that are more about how you feel about things than about how they really are. It’s nice he feels that way about it, about you—you’re on the same page, and that’s so much more than you’re used to having in relationships… or whatever this is. 
That’s the moment when it really strikes you that you don’t quite know. But you want to. There’s a small voice in the back of your head that tells you that it’s okay to hope, that you wouldn’t be waking up naked next to him in a beautiful house in the woods on your one hundred days if he didn’t at least sort of feel the same way you do. So, you decide to make good on your thoughts about devotion and your maybe presumptuous and probably embarrassing gift idea. 
“Hey,” you say, sitting up on an elbow. “Happy one hundred days.” He’s beautiful in the mornings, you think, with his sleepy smiles and his messy hair, and his endless planes of golden skin. Namjoon may not be a morning person, but the mornings certainly love him. You love him in the morning, and the other times of the day, as well. It’s overwhelming. 
“Happy one hundred days.” He leans over, kissing whatever skin on your arm he can reach without fully sitting up. It must be obvious (or he just knows you too well already) that you’re a little lost in thought, because then he taps a finger on your temple. “What’s on your mind?” he asks. 
“I got you something, but I’m not sure it was the right thing to get… It’s not a tree or a ring or anything.” 
He laughs, affectionate and warm. “I don’t need a tree or a ring. I’m sure whatever you got is perfect.” 
“It’s kind of weird,” you say. 
“Well, I can be kind of weird, and we met in what most people would think was a weird way, so I’m sure it’s perfect.” 
You roll your eyes with no malice, and as you get out of bed to go get your gift, he gives you a little slap on your backside. “Hurry up,” he teases. “It’s cold without you.” 
(It’s not—he’s the warmest person you’ve ever known.)
It doesn’t take long for you to get the envelope from your bag, and you clutch it tightly when you hustle back to bed and settle against the headboard. It had seemed like the right kind of idea, like it would make a statement at least. Jimin had smirked at you when you told him what you were planning, and all he said was, “That’s not a traditional gift,” which you definitely already knew. It really had seemed like a good idea then. 
But now that it’s time to explain yourself, you’re more than a little nervous about it. 
And you know you look and sound anxious when you hand it to Namjoon with only a quiet, “This is for you.” 
He sits up and grabs his glasses from the nightstand, then slides the envelope open carefully and pulls the paper out to read it. You watch his eyes scan the page while you pick at the duvet nervously, twisting it around in your fingers and trying not to just snatch it back and tell him to forget it. You’re almost sure you could distract him successfully. 
“Baby,” he says, finally looking over at you, eyes meeting yours about the rim of his glasses. “What is this?”
“Uh… well, it seemed like a good idea last week… It’s… you know… I’m… uh… clean,” you say, making a vague gesture around yourself, hoping he can figure out what you mean. 
“I see that,” he says. And you see the smile starting to form, his left dimple making its presence known. It’s only mildly reassuring, given the way you feel like you’re laying a lot on the table.
“And I thought you should know, because uh… I don’t want to do this with anyone else. I don’t know what this is, but I think I really want it to be something. And you’re the only person I want this kind of something with right now…” 
Namjoon just watches you fidget, he doesn’t say anything in return. The silence is near literally killing you; you think your heart may have stopped a while ago. 
“This is so embarrassing… Please say something,” you whisper.
He doesn’t say a word, but he drops the letter on the floor beside the bed, and pulls you unceremoniously into his lap, then kisses you hard and deep. There’s not even a second for you to process what’s happening, but when he licks into your mouth and squeezes your hips, your brain finally kicks in and you realize this isn’t the bad reaction you were dreading. He tugs on your bottom lip when he pulls away and it makes you whimper—you’re always at his mercy lately. 
“We,” he says, before kissing up your jaw, “are definitely something.” He nips along your pulse point and then lands a soft kiss over the spot. “And I’m sorry that you weren’t sure. Because I am very sure that this, with you, is the only something I want right now, too.” 
“That’s really good,” you say, still a little surprised both with your own boldness and his manhandling of you. 
Squeezing his arms around you, he pulls you higher up into his lap, kissing you deeply, making soft sounds from the back of his throat like he’s trying to talk to you through the kiss—it feels a little like the thing you’ve been afraid to say, a little like love. “I am, too, you know. It’s only been you since we started this,” he says quietly against your lips. 
You’re not exactly surprised by that admission, but it’s really nice to finally hear him say it. “Lie down,” you whisper, lifting your hips up to let him slide down and lay flat against the mattress, and moving a pillow so it sits under his head. 
Namjoon does what he’s told, of course, watching your every movement, looking at you like you’re the only other person on the planet as you settle yourself on top of him, slowly moving back and forth along his length. Your hands grip the headboard above him as you move, and his rest on your hips, keeping you tight against him. You’re wet for him already, sliding easily over his cock. And all you can see is him—looking blissed out and overwhelmed, the same way you feel inside. It’s a little like the first time again, with the anticipation and the newness and the very beginnings of infatuation, but with the addition of something more. 
Each time you sit fully back, you let out a soft whimper, settling into a rhythm that’s already making you want more, harder, faster… everything. 
“Baby, I—” 
“I know, me too,” you say, and you lift your hips to grip him and then carefully, slowly, lower yourself onto him. It’s unbelievable how good it is to really feel him completely, nothing between him and you.
“Oh, fuck…” He’s clearly a little overwhelmed by it, too, unable to choke out much more than the occasional curse and fragment of your name. 
You start to move again, grinding against him. And even though you’re technically touching him where it matters most, you still want more—to hold his face, to feel that he’s real—that this isn’t all some insane dream you’re bound to wake up from at any moment. So, you lean forward and lower yourself until you’re carefully holding his jaw. Your thumbs settle into where his dimples should be, and you slide your tongue along his, kissing him just the same way you’re riding him: deep, slow, and with every ounce of meaning you can muster. He lightly pulls your bottom lip between his teeth again when you break the kiss, and when you let go of his face, you move your hands to his and lace your fingers together on either side of his head. 
You don’t move from that position: foreheads pressed together, breath mingling in hushed whispers of pleasure, fingers interlocked… It’s everything. 
And this... You need a picture of this moment. His eyes closed, lips parted to let quiet moans out, his cheeks flushed... Nothing and nobody are perfect, but this has to be as close as you think you might get in this lifetime. 
“Feels so good like this…” he half-sighs and half-moans, eyes still closed in bliss, and you know you’re both getting closer to the point where you won’t be able to take it slowly any longer. 
You squeeze his hands in yours. And since you’re already being more honest than you think you’ve ever been with someone, you put your lips by his ear and add, “Never thought it could be this good…” 
Namjoon smiles in return—a little wicked, a little enamored—and he thrusts his hips up into you, eliciting a loud curse from you as you press down at the same time. 
“This is just the beginning,” he promises as he fucks into you, deeper and harder, just like you want—never letting go of your hands, never taking his eyes off of your face. 
It’s only seconds between when your thighs tighten around him and your lips crash back into his, whining into his mouth as you kiss him and come with a shudder. 
He lets go of your hands and wraps his arms around you, like he’s trying to get you even closer  to him as you ride him through his climax, his head buried in your hair, as close as you can possibly be. 
You stay there as your breathing steadies and your heart rates begin to drop back to normal, the steady thrum of his in perfect time with yours. Eventually, you turn your head and kiss his cheek, before rolling off of him and onto your back next to him. Your hand finds his again, and you stare at the ceiling, holding hands and breathing in relative silence until you finally speak. 
“I’m scared I’ll always want more with you,” you say, still painfully honest, like he’s both the object of all your affection and your living, breathing diary. 
“That’s okay,” he says, turning to look at you. “You can take what you need, baby.” 
He says it like it’s simple, like it’s obvious. He says it like there’s no other way to say it, no other option on the table. It’s a lot to offer—letting you have carte blanche is more than anyone’s ever given you, and it’s a lot of responsibility. 
You lie quietly next to him and think about how it might be okay, because you’ve let him have it with you, too, even if you haven’t said it. 
You think about how it didn’t even feel like a choice to lend out your heart as you fell hard and fast for the man next to you. 
You think about how hopeful you are that it will work out, that you won’t have to take it back because of how kind he is, how generous he is with you but careful at the same time… 
And you almost laugh out loud when you think about how very you it is of the two of you to have had a heartfelt conversation about what’s going on between you and to come away from it only knowing that there is something, still untitled, there. 
Before you fall back asleep in the too-warm room next to a too-warm Namjoon, the last thought you have is that you’re pretty sure you’ve never been more afraid or more in love, and you wonder if with him, those will always seem like two different names for the same thing. 
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yeonkimintakecare · 3 months
Text
Cheap Vacations
Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader; Angsty Fluff
Summary: You've been in recovery for awhile now, and you're so tired of the people around you coddling you. You ask your boyfriend to come with you on a spontaneous trip, but will he end up disappointing you?
Author's Note: This is based of the song Cheap Vacations by Tobi Lou. He's my second favorite artist after BTS, and I was really depressed in 2020 and I was listening to a lot of sad music. But the song is really good!!! So I suggest listening to the before, during, or after.
Warnings: reader in recovery for a prescription addiction, lot of talk about recovery and mental illness, pretty angsty.
You sit at the window looking at the planes. You look down at your phone to check the time. Your plane to Greece was leaving in 30 minutes. You booked it a week ago when you got home for you and your boyfriend. But he still wasn’t here.
Where is he?! You think to yourself. You told him to be early to the airport but he still wasn’t here. If he’s late you don’t know what you’ll do. Your hands start to shake while you think about getting onto the plane alone. What I would do for a Xanax right now.
You check the time again, just as you pick up your phone it starts to ring. You immediately pick up.
“Namjoon, where are you?” You whisper scream into your phone.
“Baby, I’m not coming.” He said calmly.
“What do you mean? I can’t get onto the plane alone. I need you here with me.” You say starting to tear up and your voice starts to break. Your body starts to shake and you feel the knot in your stomach turn into a rock. You feel weighted down and you feel as though you are about to start sinking into the ground.
“Baby you didn’t ask me if I even wanted to go.” You could hear the guilt in his voice.
“It was supposed to be romantic.” You say weakly. You didn’t understand why he didn’t want to do this with you. To be honest, the break was much needed. Everything in life was always so overwhelming and you just needed some time to take a breath with the love of your life. You needed something new in your life.
“I also don’t think that you should go on this trip. ____, you just got out of rehab. I don’t think that going on a plane, which you find extremely stressful, in a country that doesn’t speak your native language, is a good idea. I missed you so much, can’t we just take a trip here?”
You understood where he was coming from. You had a really rough eight months in rehab to get better. And you were, better that is.
“I just need to get away. I need to get away from everybody treating me like a baby. I need something new for awhile. I want to find a new high. A different high that healthy for me. I just wanted to get a breath of fresh air with you, and when I saw the tickets to Greece I thought it would be good for us. I didn’t get to have alone time with you for eight months and I just wanted to go on this trip. I got a window seat for you and I needed you. I feel like absolute shit all the time and like I'm disappointing everybody all the time. I just wanted to be in a new place with people that don't know me or what I've done.” You sob into the phone. You hated flying alone, your anxiety made it impossible to not have a panic attack on the plane.
“Baby-“ Namjoon begins to speak, but is cut off by the speaker announcing the boarding for your flight.
“I don’t care whether you come or not. I’m going. I need this, and I had hoped you would’ve been here with me, but you weren’t. So I’ll do it on my own. My therapist taught me to be independent, so that’s what I’m going to do.” You say trying to convince him, as well as yourself. “I love you and I’ll contact you when I land. We can talk about how we are going to continue when I get home.”
You end the call and grab your bag and get into the line. You feel yourself starting to shake but you begin to breathe in and out. You didn’t need the Xanax or the Kolonopin. You didn’t do that anymore. You think back to Dr. Rall’s advice and instead of dwelling on all the bad thing, you distract yourself with the good things. While it didn’t cure your state of being, it helped you feel a little more comfortable. You board the plane and sit in your seat, looking at the empty seat next you and you feel the tears welling in your eyes.
Your sadness is interrupted when by a familiar voice.
“I believe that is my seat.”
You look up to see Namjoon with his bag. You smile but tears are still falling. He takes his seat next to you and grabs your hand.
“I thought you weren’t coming…” you say quietly.
“I was already through the check in, but I was hesitant. I wasn’t sure if you were doing this for the right reasons. I had to make sure it wasn’t manic decision. But what you said on the phone. It broke my heart. I’m sorry you feel over crowded, it’s the last thing you need right now.” He said while he grabbed your hand. You see his eyes tear up a bit as well.
You feel comforted while he rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. “I love you and if you need me, I’ll always be there.” He rests his forehead against yours. You stay there for a bit until you are told you have to buckle up and you both are pulled from your little world.
You both take out your own book to read and you share headphones. At first it was rough, but he held your hand again and eventually, using your breathing exercises and stress techniques to calm yourself down. Eventually the eventful morning catches up with you and you feel your eyes become heavy.
You fall asleep at peace with your head on Namjoon’s shoulder. He smiles when he sees the smile on your face. It reminded him of what you were like before the addiction and stress. He loved you then, and he loves you now.
No matter what struggles you went through, he would always be there for you.
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