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kingofbodyrolls · 2 months ago

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Deep Dive (m) | knj

You’ve been searching for gemstones deep on the seabed— having found a broken piece of blue aquamarine. Searching for the missing piece and your new rival, you find it and much more with the blue tailed merman Namjoon while on a quest for crystals.

→ Pairing: namjoon x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au, soulmate!au → Trope: strangers to lovers → Genres: fluff, smut, angst + a very small sprinkle of comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 19.8k → Warnings (general) + triggers: not much, honestly it’s all very very fluffy, lovey dovey and cute (you’ll probably get a cavity). There’s also a lot more lore and worldbuilding in this one compared to the others, as this is the first time we’re properly introduced to the seacity🧜It’s also rather existential and philosophical. → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please be safe), oral (male and female), multiple orgasms, dirty talk, love making, kissing, breast play (licking, sucking, biting), handjob, fingering, clit play, hair pulling, creampie, very brief cockwarming. → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note(1): I really don’t know what happened when writing this one; my fingers totally slipped and most of this is just world building 🫣 At least I had a shit ton of fun writing it! I tried to make the smut a bit different than I normally do, because I just feel like what I write is getting very repetitive… So I tried changing the pace of it a bit, but I don't know if it worked or not. Anyway, I really hope you like this one too, and I managed to finish it before Namjoon’s birthday, which means I’ll release it on that day 🥳 Please do let me know what, and if you liked it, and if you’re excited for the rest of the mermaid stories ✨

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though 🤭

The boat sways gently with the rhythm of the waves, each crest and trough sending a flutter through your stomach, a tantalizing whisper of the adventure awaiting below. The sea has always been your muse, its vast, enigmatic depths a sanctuary where you’ve carved out your own livelihood. As a freelance scuba diver, you descend into the ocean’s embrace, hunting for hidden treasures—crystals and gems, and occasionally, the rarest of finds. These treasures are not just artifacts; they are fragments of the earth’s ancient soul, preserved in the watery depths.

Hae, your best friend and partner in this aquatic quest, stands beside you, her hands steady as she helps you prepare for the dive. She runs a holistic and spiritual webshop called Soulful, a name that seems to capture the essence of her being—a blend of spirituality, sustainability, and an eye for the aesthetically divine. The gems and crystals you unearth find their way into her shop, where they are revered not just for their beauty, but for the energy they carry. The world has turned its gaze towards the mystical these days, and her shop has become a beacon for those seeking solace and healing in the arms of nature.

With your wetsuit snug against your skin, fins secured, and the weight of the oxygen tanks settling on your back, you feel the familiar thrill course through you. Hae hands you your goggles with a smile, and before placing the mouthpiece between your lips, you flash her a grin. “See you soon,” you say, voice laced with excitement. The small tool bag—your fanny pack of excavation tools—rests comfortably at your side, ready to assist in your quest for nature’s buried wonders.

You take a deep breath and plunge into the ocean, the water swallowing you with a resonant splash. As you breach the surface, your arms stretch forward, parting the water with a smooth, practiced motion. The ocean welcomes you, wrapping you in its cool, serene embrace. Here, beneath the waves, you are home, surrounded by the vibrant tapestry of sea life. Jellyfish drift by, their tendrils trailing like delicate threads of silk, while schools of tiny fish scatter at your approach, shimmering in the filtered sunlight that dances through the water. Deeper you dive, into the world where time slows, and the ocean whispers secrets long forgotten by the surface. The seafloor is a hidden gallery of nature’s artistry, where crystals and gems lie in wait, forged over eons by the earth’s elemental forces. Each one tells a story—of undersea volcanoes, tectonic pressures, and the alchemical dance of minerals. Hae often speaks of these gems as if they are living beings, infused with the spirit of the ocean itself, each one a relic of the deep’s quiet, patient creation.

You smile to yourself, recalling her poetic musings, almost as if you were reading straight from her website. But you know the truth behind the beauty—these crystals, formed through evaporation, precipitation, and the intricate dance of minerals, are more than just pretty stones. They are pieces of the earth’s heart, shaped by the hands of time and nature’s immense power. Sodium, magnesium, calcium, potassium—their chemical symphony plays out in each crystal, each gem a unique testament to the forces that birthed it.

To you, they are not just beautiful—they are a testament to the majesty of the natural world, a tangible link to the planet’s deep, unspoken history. Hae’s customers, too, are drawn to this connection, to the knowledge that each crystal was not mined en masse, but discovered and unearthed by your hands alone. This makes each piece not only ethically sourced but also one-of-a-kind, carrying with it a story that can never be replicated. And then, there’s the healing. The myriad of spiritual properties attributed to these gems opens another world entirely, one that you and Hae have only begun to explore. It’s a world where science and spirituality entwine, where the physical and the metaphysical dance in harmony. But for now, as you dive deeper into the ocean’s embrace, you’re content to simply marvel at nature’s handiwork, knowing that whatever treasures you find will carry a piece of this underwater realm back to the surface.

A glint catches your eye in the distance, a shimmer that pulls you deeper into the ocean’s embrace. You’ve lost track of how far you’ve dived—perhaps just a few meters, or maybe more. Time seems to stretch and compress down here, as fluid as the water around you. A quick glance at your watch reveals that only ten minutes have passed, but you know you must be mindful of the oxygen left in your tank. Still, the ocean’s siren call urges you onward, tempting you with secrets yet to be unveiled.

Something blue sparkles ahead, its brilliance cutting through the murky depths, and you find yourself drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Your body moves with the fluidity of the water, each motion a dance of instinct and harmony. Down here, you’re not just an explorer—you’re a part of the ocean itself, swaying gently in time with the currents. The source of the light reveals itself as you approach a small rock formation, where gems of varying shades of blue glisten like forgotten stars scattered across the ocean floor. Aquamarine, calcite, and amazonite—Hae’s voice echoes in your mind, recalling the knowledge she’s shared with you. Aquamarine, the “Sea Water Stone,” born from the cooling magma of the earth’s depths, its color an echo of the ocean’s own hues. It’s a stone that calms the mind, eases stress, and sharpens communication, a talisman of courage and clarity. Blue calcite, a crystal forged from calcium, carbon, and oxygen, soothes like a lullaby, its gentle presence calming nerves and quieting anxieties. It also opens the mind’s eye, enhancing intuition and inner vision. And then there’s amazonite, a gem you’ve always favored. Its cool blue-green tones speak to your soul, a “Stone of Courage” that promotes truth, honor, and positive communication. It balances the masculine and feminine energies within, weaving harmony into the fabric of life. You reach out, your fingers brushing the rough texture of the rock, marveling at the beauty before you.

Carefully, you pull out your tools—a smooth flat file and a soft silicone hammer—and begin to work. The gems yield to your skillful hands, and soon, you’ve gathered a small collection of aquamarine, blue calcite, and amazonite, each piece a perfect reflection of the ocean’s quiet majesty. You tuck them safely into your bag, their weight a comforting presence at your side.

But the ocean isn’t done with you yet. You swim further, your eyes scanning the seabed where kelp and other sea plants sway like ethereal dancers. A small cave catches your attention, its entrance barely large enough to accommodate you, but you’re compelled to explore. You squeeze through the narrow opening, and the sight that greets you steals your breath away.

Before you lies a treasure trove of green crystals, their surfaces shimmering like serpent scales. Serpentine—Hae has spoken of this gem, formed deep within the Earth’s mantle by the transformation of silicate minerals through water. This is your first time finding it, and you can’t help but marvel at its beauty, the green hues reminiscent of a forest hidden beneath the waves. You run your fingers over the rough surface, feeling the ancient energy thrumming within the stone. Carefully, you chip away a few pieces, their weight adding to the growing collection in your bag.

But the bag is heavy now, laden with the ocean’s gifts, and a glance at your watch tells you it’s time to return. With a reluctant sigh, you leave the cave behind, swimming back toward the surface, your heart still lingering in the depths. As you break through the water, the sunlight dazzles your eyes, and Hae is there, her hands reaching out to help you back onto the boat. The weight of your gear is a burden you’re glad to shed, and you push the bag toward her, eager to share your discoveries.

“Wow!” she exclaims, her eyes wide with wonder as she sifts through the gems. “You really found a lot—and serpentine? You’ve never found that before. My customers are going to be over the moon!”

Her excitement is infectious, and you can’t help but smile. “That makes it all worth it,” you say, pulling off your hydro fin shoes with a satisfied sigh. “But I’m keeping one piece of serpentine for myself—it’s too beautiful to part with.”

Hae nods, still mesmerized by the treasures you’ve brought to the surface. The joy in her eyes is a reflection of your own, and you feel a deep contentment settle over you. The ocean has shared its secrets with you once again, and as you breathe in the fresh air, you know that the bond you share with the sea is stronger than ever.

You sail home under the setting sun, the ocean’s breeze carrying with it the scent of salt and adventure. The rhythmic lapping of the waves against the boat lulls you into a state of serene satisfaction. Back on land, you join Hae in her cozy apartment, where the warmth of the evening light filters through the windows. Her small photo studio, a creative sanctuary tucked into a corner, is ready for the treasures you’ve unearthed. Together, you arrange the crystals with care, each one glistening like a piece of the ocean’s soul captured in stone. The camera clicks, preserving the gems’ beauty for the world to see, as Hae’s artistic eye transforms them into visions of wonder. The process is swift but meaningful, a quiet ritual that binds your shared passions. Soon, the crystals will grace her webshop, ready to bring a touch of the sea’s magic to those who seek it.

“This collection is huge, Namjoon,” Hoseok remarks with a warm smile, his gaze sweeping over the shimmering array of gems that adorn the older merman’s room. “There’s so much history embedded in these walls,” he adds, pointing to the meticulously arranged stones, and Namjoon feels a flush of pride rise to his cheeks. He’s poured countless hours into curating this collection, each gem—some calcite, larimar, jasper, peridotite, amazonite, and serpentine—bearing the weight of time and the ocean’s secrets.

Yoongi casts a sidelong glance at Namjoon and his prized collection, murmuring with a wry grin, “It’s impressive... but also incredibly dorky.”

Hoseok bursts into laughter, his joy so radiant that for a moment, Namjoon thinks they don’t need the sun in their underwater world—Hoseok’s light is enough to illuminate the depths.

“I’m not a dork,” Namjoon protests, crossing his arms over his bare torso in an attempt to feign indignation, but his stern expression does little to sway the younger mermen. Their laughter echoes through the water, a melody of friendship that only strengthens the bond between them.

“Nerd, then,” Hoseok offers through another burst of laughter, his voice rippling through the water like bubbles rising to the surface. Yoongi, ever the skeptic, merely rolls his eyes, already weary of the conversation. Namjoon can sense that Yoongi’s thoughts have drifted elsewhere—likely back to his bed, where he longs to sleep away the rest of the day. But Namjoon’s heart beats with a different rhythm, one that craves adventure. He usually embarks on treasure swims with his friend Soo-ah, but she’s preoccupied with her fiancé, Seokjin, as they prepare for their upcoming wedding.

Namjoon casts a glance at his friends, hoping they’ll soon take their leave so he can slip away into the inviting embrace of the sea. The room feels too small for his restless spirit, and the ocean beyond the walls calls to him like a siren’s song. He had initially invited them over for their monthly book club, but the gathering has devolved into something else entirely—Hoseok couldn’t stop laughing at the protagonist’s ridiculous misadventures, and Yoongi, true to form, had forgotten to read the book altogether. The story, plucked from the land above, strikes Hoseok as particularly odd and amusing, especially since he’s never set foot on land himself.

“Book club’s over, right?” Yoongi asks with a resigned sigh, his voice heavy with fatigue, as if the very mention of reading has drained him further.

“Yeah, but do try to read the next book for next month,” Namjoon chides gently, though he knows his words will likely fall on deaf ears. Yoongi merely shrugs, not even bothering to pick up the worn book as he drifts toward the door. Namjoon watches them go, rolling his eyes as Hoseok flashes him a soft smile and a thumbs-up before they swim off to their respective homes.

As their laughter fades into the distance, Namjoon finally feels the freedom to pursue the adventure that has been stirring within him all day. The sea awaits, vast and full of mysteries, and he is eager to explore its depths once more.

Namjoon exhales a deep sigh, the weight of his thoughts momentarily heavy, but he renews his energy by nibbling on some fresh kelp. The taste is crisp and briny, filling him with the vitality he needs for the journey ahead. With a determined glint in his eye, he slings his backpack over his shoulder and sets off on his adventure. The sea has always been his home, its vast expanse a comforting embrace. His parents, both scholars dedicated to preserving the rich history of their underwater city, have instilled in him a love for the past. But while they focus on teaching the young minds of the city, Namjoon’s heart has always been drawn to the secrets hidden within the earth—gems and stones that hold their own silent histories.

He propels himself forward, his baby blue tail cutting through the water with graceful precision. As he gathers speed, the fish scatter in a dazzling display, their scales catching the light as they dart away. The underwater world rushes past in a vibrant blur of color, until something shimmering in the distance catches his eye.

Ahead, perched on a rock formation, are gleaming clusters of calcite and aquamarine, their surfaces dancing with the light that filters through the water. The sun’s rays, fractured by the waves above, cast a spectrum of blues across the gems, making them shimmer like the sky at twilight. Namjoon’s breath catches in his throat, as it always does when faced with such natural beauty. Each gem is a masterpiece of time and pressure, a testament to the earth’s patient artistry. He reaches out, reverently running his fingers over the cool, smooth surfaces, feeling the ancient energy thrumming within them.

He pulls out his tools, careful not to disturb the surrounding environment, and begins to collect a few of the precious stones. As he works, he remembers Soo-ah and selects a particularly radiant piece to bring back to her, a token of their shared love for the ocean’s treasures.

But his heart skips a beat when he notices something unsettling—many of the gems have already been harvested, leaving only a few scattered remnants behind. A frown creases his brow as he wonders who could have beaten him to this spot. None of his friends share his passion for collecting gems. Sure, Taehyung enjoys gathering trinkets and curiosities, but stones have never been his interest. The thought of another collector in these waters feels strangely alien, a mystery that tugs at the edges of his mind.

Who else, he wonders, could be drawn to these underwater treasures with the same fervor that drives him?

You find yourself submerged once more, the embrace of the ocean welcoming you into its depths as you embark on yet another treasure hunt, eager to unearth new crystals. Your path leads you back to the familiar cave where you previously discovered the serpentine and calcite, their beauty still vivid in your memory. Yet, something feels different this time—there are fewer crystals adorning the rock formation and scattered across the seabed. The ocean’s depths, a canvas for nature’s exquisite artistry, have always been a sanctuary for the many fascinating crystals that dwell there. But you’ve never encountered another diver who collects them as passionately as you do. The realization leaves you momentarily puzzled, until a flicker of purple catches your eye in the distance.

Intrigued, you glide through the water with graceful urgency, approaching the new discovery. As you draw closer, you recognize the delicate gray and rose-hued crystals as lepidolite, known for its ability to enhance astral travel and lucid dreaming. You’ve rarely come across these gems in your dives, and even now, only a few precious stones cling to the rock formation. Carefully, you retrieve your tools and begin to collect the lepidolite, tucking each piece into your bag with a sense of reverence.

Continuing along the seabed, you pass by schools of vibrant fish, their colors a blur of life around you, until something extraordinary catches your attention—massive aquamarine crystals, far larger than any you’ve ever seen before. They seem to pulse with a quiet energy, drawing you in with their mesmerizing blue hue. As you approach with a gentle hand, you feel an inexplicable connection to the gems, as if they are whispering tales of the ocean’s mysteries and the magnificence of the world beneath the waves.

Gingerly, you touch the aquamarines, and a surge of calm washes over you, a tranquility deeper than anything you’ve ever experienced. The sensation is strange, yet profoundly soothing, as if the ocean itself is sharing its serenity with you.

Taking your time, you inspect the crystals, standing tall on a rocky pedestal surrounded by pink sea bushes and kelp that sways in the water’s current. A few curious fish glide by as you carefully chip away at the base of the crystal, hoping to extract a substantial piece. When you finally succeed, you notice something peculiar—the crystal’s twin, the piece that once stood beside it, is missing. The jagged edge where it was removed is unmistakable. The question lingers in your mind, unsettling and persistent: Who has taken the other piece?

As you wonder who else might be drawn to the allure of these hidden gems, your hands continue their careful work, collecting a few more of the larger pieces, along with several smaller ones. You know that the smaller stones, though modest in size, still carry the same potent energy as their grander counterparts, and some people cherish them all the more for their delicate beauty. Each crystal, whether large or small, holds within it the ocean’s quiet wisdom, waiting to be shared.

Gently, you tuck the treasures into your bag, the weight of them a comforting reminder of the sea’s generosity. With a final, lingering glance at the shimmering aquamarines, you propel yourself upward, your body moving effortlessly through the water’s embrace. As you break through the surface, the world above greets you with a rush of air and sunlight. Hae is there, her arms open wide, her smile as warm as the sun. She helps you back into the boat, her touch gentle and reassuring, as if she understands the wonders you’ve just encountered below.

Once you’re back in the boat, the weight of your gear feels heavier than ever as you remove it, but your heart is light with the excitement of your discoveries. You eagerly reveal your treasures to Hae, each crystal glinting in the sunlight as you lay them before her. With a grin, you hold up the largest aquamarine, its cool blue depths mirroring the ocean below. “This one’s mine,” you declare, the gem feeling like a piece of the sea itself in your hand. But then your tone grows more serious as you add, “I think there’s another diver out there collecting gems. So many were missing from the formation.”

Hae’s eyes widen, her smile fading into a look of concern. You can almost see the wheels turning in her mind, already strategizing, perhaps even considering whether it’s time to move to a new, more secluded spot. The thought of competition makes her uneasy, her gaze drifting over the precious stones as if they might vanish any moment.

Sensing her anxiety, you place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” you say with quiet confidence. “I’ll dig around, find out who it is. We’ve come too far to let this unsettle us.” Your words are meant to calm her, to remind her that together, you’ve weathered challenges before. After all, her webshop, with its unique blend of spirituality and sustainability, has always stood out in a sea of imitators.

Hae exhales softly, her tension easing as she meets your gaze. “Okay, thank you,” she murmurs, her hands gently gathering the remaining crystals, leaving you with your cherished aquamarine. The stone gleams in your palm, a symbol of the bond between you and the sea, and now, a silent vow to protect what you’ve both worked so hard to build.

The pull of the ocean is undeniable, a quiet voice in the depths of your soul that beckons you toward the gem, as if it carries the very essence of the sea within its crystalline heart. You know instantly that this piece belongs by your side, a reminder of the ocean’s mysteries and your bond with its vast, hidden world. The sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the water as you sail back to shore, the quiet lapping of waves a soothing lullaby.

Returning to your apartment, you flick on the light, the familiar space bathed in a soft glow as you carefully place your ocean gift on the nightstand beside your bed. The gem catches the light, its surface shimmering like the sea at dawn. With a contented sigh, you brush your teeth, the routine grounding you after the day’s adventure. But as you lay in bed, your mind drifts back to the ocean, and sleep comes quickly, filled with dreams of underwater realms and the treasures that lie beneath.

Yet, even in sleep, a question nags at you. For days, the mystery has lingered in your thoughts—who could be venturing into the depths to collect gems alongside you? Your research has led you nowhere, each inquiry a dead end. No diver you know is as daring, or perhaps as mad, as you, willing to plunge into the ocean’s deepest reaches. The puzzle gnaws at you, an itch you can’t quite scratch, and the frustration builds like a storm on the horizon. It feels as if the answer is just out of reach, hidden beneath the waves, and the more you dwell on it, the more it drives you to the edge of your patience, a riddle you are desperate to unravel.

Driven by a spark of determination, you’ve hatched a bold plan—to dive back into the depths and catch the mysterious intruder who’s been claiming your precious gems. Hae thinks it’s a dumb idea, but she indulges you, knowing your spirit is as restless as the ocean itself. And so, once again, you find yourself out on the boat, with Hae in the vast expanse of the ocean under the midday sun. The boat sways gently, a rhythmic dance on the water’s surface as you methodically pull on your gear—your oxygen tanks, goggles, and hydro fins. The final touch is your backpack, securely fastened to the tank, ready to hold whatever treasures you might uncover.

With purpose in your heart and a steely resolve, you press your arms together and plunge into the ocean’s embrace. The world above fades away as you descend into the deep, your body slicing through the water with graceful determination. Thoughts of the smaller boats you saw earlier linger in your mind, fueling your hope that this dive will lead you to your elusive rival.

As you dive deeper, the current cradles you, guiding your body as you sway with the ocean’s rhythm, until you reach the seabed. The familiar terrain unfolds before you, a place you’ve visited many times, yet now it feels different, touched by the presence of another. Only a few small gems remain, their glint a reminder of what’s been taken. You scan your surroundings—kelp sways like dancers in the current, fish dart about in a symphony of colors—but no sign of competition yet.

Undeterred, you press on, swimming further along the seabed, following the contours of rocky formations. Your heart quickens as you reach a familiar spot, the place where you once unearthed a magnificent aquamarine. But as you approach, your breath catches—the rock’s surface is nearly barren, the aquamarine all but vanished, save for a few remaining shards that catch the light. Your fingers hover over the stone, tracing the empty space where the gems once gleamed, now a haunting reminder of what’s been lost to unseen hands.

A sudden jolt, like a spark of electricity, tingles through your fingertips, and before you can react, a blur of blue fills your vision, distorting the world around you. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the haze, but it remains—an ethereal presence in the water. Then, you feel a light, almost playful poke against your cheek, and a startled scream escapes into your mouthpiece, sending a cascade of bubbles spiraling upwards.

Instinctively, you jerk backward, heart pounding, as you struggle to comprehend what’s before you. No—this can’t be real. It’s not another diver. It’s not even human.

In front of you, suspended in the water like a living dream, is a merman. His face, heart-shaped and adorned with eyes like dragon-like darkened amber, is framed by short, blue hair that floats gently around his soft cheeks, jawline and pointed chin. Thin soft eyebrows arch over those wide, curious eyes—eyes that seem to hold all the wonder of the deep. His lips, thick and juicy are slightly parted in a soft ‘o,’ convey a mix of curiosity and surprise. Your gaze travels over his tall frame down to his bare chest, lean and strong, and then to the tail—an iridescent baby blue, shimmering with every subtle movement, a perfect extension of the ocean’s beauty.

A wiggling tail instead of legs.

You blink again, desperate to make sense of the vision before you. A merman… It has to be.

He drifts closer, his tail flicking gracefully as he reaches out to poke your chin once more, his voice resonating through the water with an almost melodic quality. “Are you human?” he asks, his tone gentle yet filled with the wonder of a child discovering something new.

Your mind races, and you nod frantically, unable to speak with the mouthpiece still in your mouth, your feet paddling in the water as you fight to steady yourself. The reality of the moment crashes over you like a wave—this is no fantasy. A merman is right in front of you.

As your gaze falls on the backpack strapped to his shoulders, you notice a subtle shimmer, a gleam of something precious. In that instant, the pieces fall into place—he’s the one. He’s the mysterious collector, your unexpected rival in this underwater hunt for gems.

“I’ve seen humans before,” he continues, his voice carrying an almost casual tone as he swims around you, studying you like a creature from another world, “but I’ve never seen one dressed like you.”

Your heart aches to respond, to ask a million questions, but with the mouthpiece in place, all you can do is let him circle you, his eyes filled with an innocent fascination. The silence between you is heavy with unspoken words, each glance exchanged like a whispered secret between the ocean and the sun.

As you take in the sight before you, your eyes are drawn to a necklace resting against his chest, the small piece of aquamarine nestled between the firm contours of his titties—chest, you mean chest! The gem, cradled in the hollow where his muscles meet, glimmers softly, almost as if it’s alive with the very essence of the sea. You can’t help but stare in awe, the allure of it tugging at something deep within you. Thank heavens for your goggles, masking the blush that would otherwise give away your wandering thoughts.

“You look funny,” he remarks, his voice laced with innocent curiosity as he reaches out to grab one of your hydro fin shoes. The unexpected touch throws you off balance, and for a moment, you find yourself flipping weightlessly in the water, your body twisting like a leaf caught in a gentle current.

“Is this supposed to be like a mermaid’s tail?” he asks, holding your foot aloft as though it were some ancient relic to be deciphered. His brow furrows in concentration, and you can’t help but feel a mix of amusement and bewilderment at the sight.

Instinctively, you jerk your foot back, breaking free from his grasp, and you push against the water with frantic kicks, a glance at your watch reminding you that time is running out. As much as you wish to linger here, captivated by the merman’s presence, the pressing need to return to the surface propels you upward.

“Hey! Where’re you going?” he calls after you, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation, but you’re already too focused on reaching the surface to notice the distress in his expression. The thought of what could happen if you don’t make it in time isn’t one you’re willing to entertain.

Breaking through the water’s surface, you take off the mouthpiece and gulp in fresh air, scanning the horizon until you spot your boat, a distant speck where Hae waits, the other vessels having long since disappeared. It seems manageable, this swim back to the boat, as long as you stay above water—your oxygen tank now empty, its weight a reminder of how close you cut it.

But before you can begin the swim, something solid collides with you, stopping you in your tracks. “Ow,” you exclaim, startled as you float backward, only to find yourself face to face with a familiar figure, his blue hair dripping wet above the waves.

“Hi,” the merman says with a smile, his dimples appearing like little pools of light in the sun. The simple word carries a warmth that catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re lost in the easy charm of his grin, the ocean around you feeling suddenly smaller, as if it were just the two of you in this vast, endless world.

“Hi,” you greet him with a soft smile, still astonished that he followed you to the surface at all. A swirl of unspoken questions rises in your chest, but they tangle in your throat, leaving you staring at him, wide-eyed and speechless. The world seems to blur, save for the merman before you, his wet blue hair plastered against his forehead, his dragon-like eyes sweeping over you with a curious intensity, as if he’s memorizing every detail.

“What’s all that stuff you’ve got on?” he asks, pointing a slender finger at your goggles and then at the oxygen tanks strapped securely to your back.

“These?” you say, finding your voice as you point to your goggles. “They help me see underwater,” you pause, feeling the weight of the tanks pulling at your shoulders, “And these let me breathe while I dive—they hold the oxygen I need when I’m down there.” You gesture to the tanks behind you, your explanation feeling small in the face of his wide, unblinking curiosity.

He hums thoughtfully, nodding as if piecing together a puzzle. “Makes sense,” he says at last, though his gaze strays past you, catching sight of Hae waving from the boat that rocks gently on the surface, her silhouette framed by the scorching sun.

“I... I have to get back,” you mumble, pointing toward your friend, the words feeling heavy as they leave your lips. You try to steady your thoughts, but they swirl like the currents beneath the sea, a thousand questions dancing just beneath the surface, questions you don’t quite dare to voice.

“Okay,” he says, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—hesitation, perhaps. “But before you go…” His voice halts your movements, drawing you back to him like the pull of the tide. You turn toward him again, heart fluttering in the quiet space between you, as if the ocean itself is holding its breath, waiting to see what comes next.

“What’s your name?” His voice is soft, carrying a gentleness that ripples through the water.

“It’s ___,” you reply, offering him a smile that’s both shy and warm.

“That’s pretty,” he says, and when his lips part into a smile, his dimples carve deep into his cheeks, making him almost impossibly cute, but dangerously so.

“I’m Namjoon.”

His name lingers between you like a secret, sweet and mysterious. “Will I see you again?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, his brow raised in curious hope.

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face, the warmth filling your chest. There’s something about him—this enchanting creature of the deep—that makes you feel drawn in, like the tide itself is pulling you closer. You nod, the joy bubbling up inside you as you answer, “See you later, Namjoon.” There’s more than one reason you want to see him again. The unspoken questions whirl in your mind, but there’s also the thrill—because maybe, just maybe, you want to get your hands on the best crystals before he does.

As you turn and swim back toward Hae, your thoughts a mess of wonder and disbelief, a blush warms your cheeks. Did you just make a date with a merman? The thought sends a tingle of excitement through you. But when you glance back to where he was, Namjoon is already gone, having disappeared beneath the shimmering surface, like a dream fading with the dawn.

You finally make it to the boat, the sun still hanging high, bathing everything in golden light. As Hae helps you out of the water and hands you a towel, her eyes are wide with confusion. “Who was that? And how did he just vanish into the water like that, without any diving gear?”

“A merman,” you pant, peeling off your oxygen tanks and goggles. The words slip out of your mouth so naturally, like it’s something you’d say every day. Not the revelation of a magical creature, but a simple truth.

Hae stares at you, eyes nearly bulging from their sockets. “I’m sorry, what?”

“A merman,” you repeat, more firmly this time.

“A merman?” she echoes, her voice faint and incredulous, as if the very idea is too fantastical to grasp.

“Yes. A goddamn merman,” you say, grinning wide as you meet her disbelieving gaze. “Scaly tail and all.” And then the absurdity of it all hits you, and before you know it, you’re laughing—a bright, bubbling sound that lifts the tension from your chest.

Hae blinks, her mind racing to catch up with the truth you’ve laid before her. When she finally does, her gaze shifts to the shimmering crystals you’ve collected, and without another word, she turns the boat towards home, lost in thought as the ocean waves lap against the sides. And all you can do is sit there, the excitement of your encounter buzzing through your veins, as you wonder about the next time you’ll meet Namjoon beneath the waves.

The next time you set sail, the open sea stretching endlessly before you, a current of giddy anticipation courses through your veins. Thoughts of the blue-haired merman, Namjoon, fill your mind, sparking excitement deep within your chest. Will he be there today, waiting beneath the waves? You wish you could speak with him underwater, to ask him the thousand questions swirling in your heart, but the surface would have to do for now. You can’t help but smile at the thought of seeing him again.

Hae steers the boat through the shimmering water, the horizon vast and infinite. As you slip on your gear and dive beneath the surface, the ocean’s cool embrace pulls you into its depths. You swim purposefully, eyes scanning the underwater world, searching for both gems and a glimpse of Namjoon.

Suddenly, something blue catches your eye, sparkling in the distance. Your pulse quickens as you think, just for a moment, that it might be him. But as you swim closer, your heart sinks—it’s only a cluster of aquamarine, glittering like pieces of fallen sky. You feel a bit foolish, letting your hopes get the better of you. Shaking off the disappointment, you turn your attention to the task at hand, collecting the gems with careful precision, though your thoughts continue to drift back to the mysterious merman.

You move to a new spot, finding a hidden cave adorned with larimar crystals. The stones are breathtaking—swirls of blue, white, and gray blending like waves crashing upon a shore, smooth and radiant. The sight brings a smile to your face, the beauty of the moment settling into your heart. You gently gather some of the crystals, placing them in your bag with reverence, as if each one carries a secret.

Just as you’re about to leave the cave, a shadow falls across the entrance. Your heart skips a beat, startled by the sudden presence. But then, the familiar voice reaches your ears, warm and apologetic, and you see him—Namjoon, his figure filling the space, his smile soft and full of quiet charm.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his hand nervously scratching the back of his head, his eyes filled with a gentle sincerity.

Relief washes over you, and with a playful wave of your hands, you signal that it’s okay—that he needn’t worry. How you wish you could speak to him down here, let your words float freely in the water like the bubbles escaping from your gear. But for now, your gestures will have to suffice. Your smile says the rest—you’re just glad to see him again.

“You’re collecting crystals, right?” Namjoon asks, his voice cutting through the liquid silence as he gestures toward your already bulging bag. You nod in response, still catching your breath from the weight of the gems you’ve gathered.

“Do you want me to show you a cave with lepidolite?” he mumbles, his tone casual but a bit uncertain. “They’re pretty rare, but I know of a cave that’s full of them.” For a fleeting moment, you wonder if this is the ocean’s version of Netflix and chill, the awkwardness of the offer landing with the charm of a bad pickup line. You can’t help but smile at the thought.

Still, you nod, knowing that Hae would be thrilled to get her hands on more lepidolite, and besides, you’re curious. You figure underwater Netflix and chill is a bit different from what you’re used to anyway.

Namjoon leads the way, his brilliant blue tail weaving effortlessly through the water, shimmering like sunlight caught in a sapphire. You trail behind him, captivated by the rhythmic sway of his form, the way his muscles ripple across his broad back like waves sculpted by some divine hand. You can’t help but wonder—do they even have gyms down here? The sight of him, so fluid and powerful, is mesmerizing, and before you know it, time seems to slip away, your focus narrowing to the subtle dance of his movements.

“This is the cave,” he suddenly announces, pulling you out of your reverie. You hadn’t realized just how long you’d been swimming, utterly absorbed by the quiet beauty of the journey and him.

You follow him inside, and the sight that greets you takes your breath away—deep violet lepidolite, sparkling in the dim light like stars scattered across a twilight sky. You’re awestruck by the sheer abundance, the rare gems nestled into the cave walls as if nature had painted this secret world just for you.

“Beautiful, right?” Namjoon giggles softly, his voice echoing gently through the cavern as you nod, too taken by the sight to speak. You pull out your tools, carefully beginning to gather the precious stones, all while feeling the warmth of his gaze lingering on you. His silent watchfulness stirs a strange flustered feeling inside, like he’s studying you with the same intensity you’ve used to admire him.

Once your bag is heavy with lepidolite, Namjoon takes you on a quiet tour of other hidden gem spots. Each place he shows you feels like a secret whispered by the ocean itself, and soon your collection grows so large that the weight of it tugs at you, as if the sea itself is trying to pull you back down. When Namjoon offers to carry your bag, you try to refuse at first, clinging to your independence. But as your arms grow heavy, you relent, watching in awe as he effortlessly takes your overloaded bag, slinging it across his broad frame with ease. He carries it as though the weight is nothing, his strength as graceful as the tides themselves.

With a raised arm, you gesture that it’s time to surface—your oxygen running low, the familiar ache of needing air settling into your chest. He seems to understand immediately, and together you ascend, the world around you turning brighter as you rise toward the surface.

Breaking through the water, you gasp in the fresh air, peeling off your goggles and mouthpiece, eager to speak to him in the open air. Namjoon surfaces beside you, droplets clinging to his skin as the sun catches the water in his hair, casting a shimmering halo around his smiling face.

“We should do this again,” he says, his voice warm and full of excitement. “Wasn’t it fun?”

“It really was,” you reply with a smile, your heart still buzzing from the underwater adventure. “Thank you for showing me all those caves. My friend, Hae, is going to be over the moon,” you say, casting a glance toward the boat swaying gently in the distance.

“That’s great to hear,” Namjoon replies, his voice as smooth as the rippling waves.

A flicker of frustration tugs at your chest, and you bite your lip. “I just wish I could talk to you down there,” you admit, your words heavy with a longing that feels both simple and profound.

“It would be nice, yeah,” he muses, his soft smile brightened by the sunlight. “But I don’t mind coming up here to talk. I like the air up here too,” he adds with a gentle chuckle, his gaze warm and steady.

“I have so many questions,” you blurt out, the words escaping you before you can hold them back. There’s too much wonder bottled up inside you, too much curiosity, and it needs to spill over.

Namjoon laughs, a sound so genuine it feels like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Shoot,” he says, his dimples deepening like two small whirlpools at the corners of his mouth.

You pause, your mind swimming with possibilities, before settling on the most obvious. “Are you the only merman, or… are there more of you?” you ask, your voice tinged with awe.

“There are more,” he says with pride, his chest lifting slightly. “There’s a whole city beneath the sea—Naraeum, where we live.” His eyes gleam with the pride of someone who belongs to something ancient and wondrous.

A thrill runs through you at the revelation. An entire city of merfolk hidden beneath the waves. The thought makes your pulse quicken, the realization that you’ve stumbled upon something so extraordinary, so secret, that few on the surface could even imagine it. You feel as if you’ve been let in on the universe’s greatest mystery, and it fills you with a giddy excitement that hums like electricity in your veins.

“Are there cities or kingdoms beneath the waves? What are they like?” you ask, your voice soft with curiosity, eager to glimpse the world he calls home.

Namjoon’s eyes light up with a quiet pride. “Naraeum is a vast kingdom,” he begins, his words gentle yet full of wonder. “There’s pink coral stretching as far as the eye can see, ancient golden buildings weathered by time, and bright green kelp that sways like dancers in the currents. Dark caves hide beneath the surface, teeming with life—fish, crabs, creatures of every kind. And at night, everything glows with bioluminescent light, turning the ocean into a dreamscape.” A faint blush rises on his cheeks as he adds, “Maybe I can show you one day.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the thought of seeing an underwater kingdom beyond anything you’ve ever imagined. “That sounds unbelievable. I’d love to see Naraeum,” you say, barely able to contain the excitement bubbling within you. The idea of diving so deep, into a world untouched by human hands, feels too surreal to grasp.

“There are other cities too,” Namjoon continues, a smile tugging at his lips. “Some are smaller, some are larger, but Naraeum is like the heart of our region, the capital of sorts,” he adds, the pride in his voice unmistakable.

Your mind whirls with possibilities, questions tumbling out before you can stop them. “Do you have art? Music? Stories? How do you create them underwater?”

Namjoon laughs, a full-bodied sound that echoes across the waves. “We do,” he replies with a sparkle in his eyes. “Human books, for one—we’ve learned to preserve them so they don’t dissolve. Otherwise, we etch our stories on stone, carving our history into the bones of the sea. For music, we use instruments that echo your drums, flutes, and strings, but they’re crafted from merfolk hair, delicate yet strong.”

He pauses, a wistful look crossing his face. “Naraeum is ancient, filled with art and stories older than any of us. But,” he adds, adjusting the heavy bag on his back, “I fear I don’t have enough time to share them all right now. This bag,” he says with a light grin, “is starting to weigh me down.”

“Oh right, the bag!” you exclaim, snapping back to reality as a wave of panic ripples through you. You mentally scold yourself for letting the moment sweep you away, your feet kicking gently against the water as you make your way toward the boat. Namjoon swims by your side, effortlessly graceful, his shimmering tail flickering beneath the surface.

Hae is there, waiting with a patient smile, and as she pulls you aboard, you reach out to take the heavy bag from Namjoon’s hands. “Thank you so much,” you say, a warm smile spreading across your face despite the unspoken whirlpool of questions still swirling in your mind. You wish you could ask him everything, but those wonders will have to wait.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Namjoon replies, his voice soft like the lull of the ocean. His own smile is tender, a quiet acknowledgment that leaves you feeling light despite the weight of the bag.

Hae chimes in with a grin, “So, you’re the famous merman,” she teases, still a little wide-eyed as Namjoon flashes his bright blue tail above the surface, the sight leaving her speechless. The tail vanishes just as quickly, a flicker of the magic below.

“I’ll have to go now,” Namjoon says, his voice carrying a gentle farewell as he begins to swim backward, his gaze lingering on yours. “But I’ll see you again soon, ___.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks, and despite yourself, you smile and wave, heart fluttering in a way that’s both exhilarating and unsettling. You watch him dip beneath the waves, his form disappearing into the deep blue, leaving the water still and the air quiet.

Hae turns to you with a knowing look. “You’ve got a crush on the merman, don’t you?”

You can’t deny the warmth spreading through you, but you push the thought aside, the reality of it sinking in. He’s a merman. You’re human. It feels impossible, like something from a dream. But maybe—just maybe—being friends isn’t out of reach. Friends, you think, as if convincing yourself. That can’t hurt... right?

In the following weeks, you find yourself swept into a world beyond imagination—each adventure with Namjoon feels like diving into a storybook of magic and wonder. He takes you to hidden underwater realms where gems glimmer like stars, and schools of fish, dolphins, and whales glide by as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s as though the ocean has opened up just for you, revealing its secrets with every dive. The more time you spend with him, the stronger your heart tugs, pulling you deeper into your feelings. You try, futilely, to convince yourself you’re just friends, but every shared laugh, every meaningful glance, makes that harder to believe.

Namjoon is an incredible friend, one who listens to your ramblings with genuine interest. His conversation is as vast and deep as the ocean itself, leading you into existential tangents that leave you pondering life and its mysteries long after the talks are over. You wish for more—there’s an ache that grows inside you—but how could that even be possible? He’s a merman, you’re human. It feels like some impossible fairy tale. Yet, you’ve caught him stealing glances, his cheeks tinged with blush, and sometimes he gazes at you with an intensity that makes your heart flutter in ways you can’t ignore. But does that mean anything? How do merfolk even love? You wonder if their hearts beat the same as yours.

One quiet afternoon, as you sit with the sun lazily dipping below the horizon on the boat, you find yourself asking the question that’s been gnawing at your mind. “Are there any consequences if a merman falls in love with a human?” The words tumble out before you can stop them.

Namjoon, floating beside the boat, nearly chokes on the beer you brought him, his laughter turning into a cough as he searches for air. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter, more careful. “There aren’t really... any consequences,” he murmurs, the tips of his ears turning pink. His eyes flicker nervously to your lips, then meet your eyes again, a quiet vulnerability swimming in their depths.

Good to know, you think, your heart skipping a beat. But before the blush overtakes you, you scramble to change the subject, your curiosity pulling you in another direction. “Is there magic in the ocean, like the old legends say? Can you control it?”

He laughs softly, the sound like the ebb and flow of waves. “There is magic, but no, I can’t control it. None of us can. There’s a Sea Witch, though—she’s the only one with that kind of power, as far as I know.” His words are laced with mystery, and your mind spins with possibilities.

“Can merfolk live forever?” you ask, half-dreaming of a life that stretches beyond the boundaries of time.

“Yes and no,” he replies, his voice thoughtful. “We can live for so long it feels like forever, but we’re not truly immortal.” His gaze drifts across the water, as if pondering the weight of time itself.

“Interesting,” you murmur, your thoughts swirling. “What happens when a merperson dies, then? Is there an afterlife?”

Namjoon’s smile is wistful as he explains, “When a merperson dies, we hold a celebration—a spiritual send-off, really. There’s singing, dancing, it’s more of a party than a funeral. We celebrate their journey into the afterlife.” You must look puzzled because he quickly adds, “In the afterlife, we become ghosts. But if friends and family don’t send you off properly, there’s a chance the spirit might come back to haunt them.” He chuckles lightly, and you gasp, wide-eyed at the thought.

A cool breeze dances over the water, and for a moment, the world feels suspended between reality and the dreamlike expanse of the sea. You sit there, awed by the depth of his world, your heart both heavy with questions and light with wonder. And in that moment, despite the impossible distance between your two worlds, something seems to shift—something delicate and unspoken. You don’t know what the future holds, but maybe, just maybe, there’s magic enough to bridge the divide.

He passes the beer back to you, and you take a gentle sip, letting the taste linger without wanting the haze of drunkenness to settle in. Out here, in the middle of the endless ocean, everything feels both vast and intimate. A small taste is enough.

“Do you ever feel lonely in the vastness of the sea?” you ask, a quiet melancholy softening your voice as you gaze out at the seemingly endless horizon. The sea is breathtaking, yes, but the weight of its endlessness stirs something in you—a humbling reminder of how small one can feel in such a world.

“Sometimes,” Namjoon admits, his head dipping as his gaze finds the water. “There are moments when the ocean feels too big, too quiet.” His voice is soft, vulnerable. “But I have good friends,” he continues with a faint smile, “and I have my books when the solitude feels too heavy.” He looks at you with eyes warm and reassuring, as if to say that the sea might be vast, but he’s found beauty in its stillness.

“Oh, what books do you like?” you chuckle lightly, trying to brighten the mood, though his quiet sincerity tugs at your heart.

“Human books,” he replies with a gentle grin. “I love historical tales, but fiction is my favorite—stories that let me dream of other worlds.”

You smile, curiosity dancing on your lips. “What kind of fiction? Should I bring you some next time?” The words tumble out before you can catch them, your eagerness spilling over into the space between you.

A blush blooms across his cheeks, so deep it even colors the tips of his ears. In a shy, almost bashful voice, he says, “I... I like romance.” His admission is soft, as if he’s unsure of how it will land.

You can’t help but smile, your heart swelling with affection. There’s no shame in it, not to you—if anything, it’s endearing. “I have some romance books I can bring next time, if you’d like,” you offer, your voice gentle, feeling the warmth of your words fill the space between you.

Namjoon’s eyes sparkle, a soft wonder lighting them up as his blush deepens. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he murmurs, his voice as tender as the evening breeze.

The sun has begun to sink lower, casting a golden glow over the water. Namjoon glances at the sky, then back at you with a smile that feels like the closing of a chapter. “It’s getting late. I was thinking... next time, I could show you Naraeum.” His voice is proud, almost glowing with the thought. “If we go at night, the whole kingdom shines,” he adds, a spark of excitement in his eyes as he recalls the bioluminescent beauty he once described to you.

Your heart leaps at the thought. “I’d love that,” you say, feeling the pull of the ocean’s magic once more. “I’ll ask Hae to man the boat, so I’m not alone when it’s time to head back.”

Namjoon nods, his smile softening as the sun dips lower, its light casting golden hues over both the water and his blue hair. “See you soon,” he says, waving as he begins to slip beneath the surface.

You wave back, feeling the warmth of his presence linger, even as you sail toward the shore, the fading sunlight a reminder that the ocean holds many mysteries yet to be uncovered. And with each adventure, your connection to him deepens, like a current pulling you both to something inevitable.

"I’m telling you, you’re totally whipped, man," Yoongi says with a playful eye roll, his voice teasing but laced with truth.

“I’m not,” Namjoon protests, crossing his arms defensively, but deep down, he knows resistance is futile. His friends have been relentless, teasing him ever since you entered his life—how his smile stretches wider, brighter, after spending time with you, how your name slips into conversations that have nothing to do with the human world. It’s like you’ve seeped into his very soul. He knows he’s fallen, and fallen hard, but the weight of his feelings confuses him. He has no idea how to navigate them, unsure of your heart, or if you could even feel the same pull toward him. And how could it ever work between you two? The thought of venturing onto land to be with you dances through his mind like a fragile dream, but there’s a storm of questions swirling beneath the surface—questions he’s too afraid to ask, too scared to drown in all the unknowns.

“Just don’t get your heart broken,” Yoongi mutters, his voice softer now, tinged with caution. Namjoon nods, the words settling heavily in his chest like stones sinking to the ocean floor.

“Hey man, don’t throw your past experiences at Joonie like that!” Jimin chimes in, smacking Yoongi’s shoulder, a little too forcefully judging by Yoongi’s wince. “If he’s in love, he should go for it. Take the dive, see where the current leads him,” the blonde merman insists, eyes sparkling with mischief and optimism, trying to fill Namjoon’s heart with hope, pushing away the shadows Yoongi’s cynicism casts.

Namjoon, though, can only sigh. “I just don’t know…,” he mumbles, fingers trailing along the spines of his beloved books, rearranging them in some futile attempt to quiet the storm inside him. Anything to busy himself, anything to keep thoughts of you from consuming him. But it’s hopeless—why does his mind keep drifting back to you, like the tide, relentless and unyielding?

“It will never work,” Yoongi shrugs with a quiet scoff, his voice carrying the weight of someone who’s seen too many relationships slip away. His words linger in the air, heavy like the deep sea.

Jimin, unphased, shoots him a scolding glare. “You never know that,” he says firmly. “Just because your love life’s been a shipwreck doesn’t mean it’s the same for everyone else.” There’s a sharp edge to his words, a flicker of irritation.

“And look at Seokjin and Soo-ah!” Jimin adds, his voice lifting again, the gleam of an idea flickering in his eyes. “Soo-ah was human once too, remember? She turned mermaid for love. Maybe ___ would want to become a mermaid as well? Who knows what fate has in store,” he grins, ever the romantic, eager to plant seeds of possibility in Namjoon’s mind.

Namjoon’s heart stirs at the thought, but even the idea feels like a dream too distant, too fragile to reach. Could you really be part of his world? Could love, like the sea, find a way to bridge the impossible distance between you?

“I would never put that on her. She has a life—one she’s likely content with on land. I couldn’t ask her to leave it behind,” Namjoon says, his voice laced with breathless resignation, as though the weight of his own feelings has left him deflated, crushed beneath the impossibility of it all.

“She’s a good friend. I’ll just... enjoy what we have for now,” he adds softly, placing the book you’d given him gently on his nightstand, his fingers lingering on the cover. He already treasures it, not for the words it contains, but because it came from you. Though he hasn’t yet reached the end, he finds himself lost in the pages, immersed in the tale of a woman struggling with feelings for her best friend—torn between preserving their friendship or risking everything for love. If Namjoon sees a reflection of his own heart in those pages, he’ll never admit it, not even to himself.

“Love sucks anyway,” Yoongi mutters, his voice sharp and bitter, like a wound still raw and bleeding.

“You’re killing the vibe, Yoon,” Jimin sighs, shaking his head as he swims closer to Namjoon, his energy warm and comforting.

“Don’t listen to him,” Jimin adds, draping an arm around Namjoon’s broad shoulders, trying to lift the weight that presses down on his friend. “He’s the last person you want advice from when it comes to love. He’s forgotten what it means to believe in it.” Jimin shoots another glare at Yoongi, who merely shrugs, unmoved.

Namjoon lets out a weary sigh. He likes you—no, more than likes you. Perhaps he’s even in love, but he’s still learning to come to terms with that revelation. What if telling you his feelings drives you away? What if, in confessing his heart, he loses the precious friendship you’ve built together? You, who’ve brought laughter and life into his days. He’s never been close to a human before, not like this, and the thought of losing you weighs heavier than the ocean above him.

It’s not like he hasn’t ventured to land before, tasted fleeting moments with humans—flings that flickered out as quickly as they began. But this, you, feel different. And he’s in deep water now, uncertain of the way forward. It doesn’t matter to him that you’re human. If you were a mermaid, he doubts it would make things easier. What draws him to you isn’t your species, it’s your soul.

It’s the way your hair dances in the wind, or how it clings to your skin when it’s soaked from the sea. The way your cheeks flush red, that soft blush that dusts even the bridge of your nose. The way bubbles rise and swirl around you when you dive beneath the waves, how your lashes flutter like the wings of a butterfly. The way your presence calms the storm inside him, as though you carry the quiet strength of the sea itself.

Yes, Namjoon thinks, his heart heavy with the undeniable truth. He’s got it bad.

“Hae, I don’t know what to do,” you sigh, the weight of indecision pressing down on you as you sit at the coffee shop, staring at the steam rising from your untouched cup. You feel like you could pull your hair out, frustration boiling inside as you wait for the coffee to cool, though it’s really your emotions that need calming.

The midday sunlight filters through the window, casting soft golden light over your table, but you can’t appreciate the warmth. Your mind is too restless. What are you supposed to do with these feelings?

“It’s actually quite simple,” Hae says, her tone far too casual for the magnitude of what you’re feeling. She takes a sip of her coffee—how does she drink it so scalding hot?—and you scoff softly, half out of envy, half in disbelief at how calm she seems. “You just have to talk to him.”

You groan, the sound louder than you intended, pulling curious glances from the tables around you. Embarrassed, you lower your voice, but the frustration lingers, tugging at your insides like a tangled knot.

“It’s not that easy,” you say, pushing your coffee aside. “What if he doesn’t like me? What if I ruin everything between us?” Your voice drops to a whisper as your hands fall to your lap, palms sweaty and clammy. “How would it even work? He’s a merman, Hae. I... I’m just me.”

Hae raises an eyebrow, amused. “Girl—have you seriously not noticed the way he looks at you?”

You blink. “What do you mean? He looks at me... normal.”

She gives you a look that suggests you might be the most oblivious person on the planet. “Nah. He looks at you like he’s ready to drown in your eyes—like you’re his whole world.”

Her words hit you like a sudden wave, stealing your breath for a moment. Could she be right? You’ve never seen Namjoon look at you like that, at least not in a way you could recognize.

“Really?” you whisper, unsure, heart fluttering with both hope and fear.

“Yes,” she emphasizes, laughing a little as she sets her cup down. “You’re kinda stupid for not noticing.”

You finally take a tentative sip of your now-warm coffee, trying to hide the way her words unravel you. As the warmth settles in your chest, your mind starts racing, replaying all the moments you’ve shared with Namjoon, all the times he’s looked at you, spoken to you with that gentle smile. Had there been something more in those glances? Had you been too blind to see it?

“You should confess your feelings,” Hae says, matter-of-fact, sipping her coffee like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

But it’s not that simple, not for you. The thought of baring your heart feels like standing at the edge of a precipice, with no way of knowing if there’s solid ground beneath you—or a fall. What if she’s wrong? What if you’re wrong?

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t know if I can. What if I ruin our friendship? What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

Hae gives you a knowing look, but you’re already spiraling, lost in your own thoughts. Maybe... maybe you could watch him a little longer, try to see what she’s seeing, catch more evidence that there’s something there, something more.

Because the risk of losing him over your feelings—that terrifies you more than anything.

It’s a few nights later, and the sea is a blanket of darkness as you and Hae venture out into its endless expanse. The sky above is nearly pitch black, save for the delicate shimmer of stars scattered like diamonds, casting faint light upon the inky water. The moon hangs low, its pale glow mirrored perfectly on the surface, creating a fragile bridge between the heavens and the sea. You pull Hae into a hug, murmuring your gratitude for her being here, for her unwavering companionship on this strange, otherworldly journey. She laughs softly, her voice breaking the silence of the night, and tells you she wouldn’t let you drown—not when she’s here to keep you safe. Her words bring a smile to your face, easing the quiet tension in your chest as you pull on your gear in the dark.

You slip into the water, the sea swallowing you whole. Beneath the surface, it’s as black as ink, the deep blue fading into a near-impenetrable navy that borders on oblivion. But there is no fear, only the pull of the unknown as you dive deeper, surrendering to the quiet pull of the ocean. Your breath is steady, your heartbeat louder in your ears than the sound of the waves above.

And then, there he is—Namjoon, his gentle smile waiting for you like a beacon in the depths, dimples carving softness into the darkness. His presence is steady, grounding, and for a moment, you forget you can’t speak, forgetting that the words you wish to say—I’m glad I’m here, thank you for this—are trapped behind the mask of your breathing gear.

Suddenly, his hand reaches for yours. The touch surprises you at first, a flicker of warmth against the cold of the sea, sending a soft spark up your arm, a silent current that makes your heart stutter. But then you relax into it, realizing how right it feels—his hand in yours, the silent understanding between you. It’s just a hand, you remind yourself, but even the smallest gesture carries weight in the depths of the sea.

“It’s dark,” he gestures to your joined hands, his voice a whisper through the water. “I’ll guide you.” You notice, even in the dim light, how his eyes shift nervously, and if the ocean weren’t so dark, you’d swear there was a blush creeping across his cheeks.

Together, you swim deeper, your hand still clasped in his as the world around you begins to change. In the distance, something gleams—a glint of gold, faint but unmistakable. As you draw closer, it becomes more defined, taking shape as towering structures rise from the seafloor like monuments from another world. Tall, ancient buildings glitter beneath the water, their surfaces gleaming with gold, adorned in intricate lettering and symbols you can’t begin to decipher. The curves and arches remind you of something familiar, some echo of human architecture, though far grander and more ancient than anything you’ve ever seen. These aren’t just buildings—they’re castles, palaces from a forgotten fairy tale. Everything is bathed in the ethereal glow of bioluminescent light, soft blues and yellows emanating from plants that pulse like stars, making the entire city shimmer as if alive with magic. It’s breathtaking—otherworldly in its beauty—and you feel your breath catch in your throat, mesmerized by the impossible splendor before you.

How many wonders exist beneath the surface, hidden from the world above? you think, the weight of it all is almost too much to grasp. That such a place could exist, a vast city of gold and light, thriving in the deep—how could you have never known?

“Welcome to Naraeum,” Namjoon says, his voice soft, gesturing toward the city center that teems with life. Merpeople of all shapes, colors, and ages drift through the streets, some lost in their own rhythms, others laughing and chatting, and children darting through the water in playful games. The whole scene is alive, vibrant, and full of warmth, and the sight of it fills you with something indescribable—joy, wonder, perhaps even belonging.

A smile spreads across your face, unbidden, as the reality of this magical place settles over you. For the first time, you feel like you’ve truly discovered something beyond the world you’ve known, something boundless and beautiful. And with Namjoon beside you, it feels like you’ve only just begun to understand its depths.

“This is the city hall,” Namjoon gestures toward the tallest of the castles, its golden spires reaching upward like fingers trying to touch the ocean’s surface. “The royal family lives there too.” His voice is soft, but there’s a weight to his words, something ancient and significant about the building that looms over the city like a silent guardian.

You glance at him, blinking, wishing you could ask more, the curiosity burning inside you. If only you could speak, but the water and the mouthpiece keep your questions trapped behind your lips. The tug of his hand interrupts your thoughts, and once again you’re being gently pulled deeper into the heart of Naraeum, where the city unfolds like a dream in slow motion.

The water sways with life—delicate kale and other greens move in rhythm with the gentle currents, shells glint beneath the sandy floor, and tiny crabs scuttle between the rocks, oblivious to your presence. Shoals of fish—bright yellow, orange, and black—dart past, their quicksilver bodies flashing through the twilight water. And now, the eyes of the merpeople are on you. Their gazes, curious and shimmering, follow you as you move through their world, and for the first time, you feel like a true visitor in a land not your own.

Three merpeople approach, their figures graceful and effortless in the water. One, a striking merman with a pink tail that shimmers like rose quartz in the dim light, looks you over with an intensity that makes you feel seen in a way both comforting and unfamiliar. You notice his hand intertwined with a mermaid beside him, her tail a stunning shade of purple that gleams like amethyst. Together, they are radiant, like a pair of jewels. They look perfect together, you think, a bit in awe of how seamlessly they belong to this world.

“This is ___?” the pink-tailed merman asks, his voice smooth, his eyes darting to Namjoon for confirmation.

Namjoon nods, and the mermaid smiles, her face brightening with warmth. “Pleased to meet you,” she says, her voice light like a melody. “I’m Soo-ah, and this is my fiancé, Seokjin.” You nod in response, acknowledging them with a smile behind your mouthpiece, feeling a sense of camaraderie in their presence.

But before you can speak—or even think of what to say—your eyes catch on the third figure. A dark-haired merman with a tail the color of midnight, streaked with gold that glimmers like starlight. His aura is different��colder, detached. His black eyes flicker over you briefly, then, with a dismissive scoff, he turns away, arms crossed over his chest as if to close himself off from the world.

Namjoon sighs, his voice edged with irritation, “That’s Yoongi.” The name comes out rough, almost an apology. “He forgot to take the stick out of his ass today.”

You can’t help but chuckle, bubbles escaping from your mouthpiece, rising toward the surface like tiny pieces of joy. Even in this underwater kingdom, humor survives, softening the tension. But Yoongi, unmoved, swims off into the shadows, his figure disappearing into the vastness of the sea.

“Don’t mind him,” Namjoon mutters, squeezing your hand a little tighter. “Come on, I want to show you the rest.”

Soo-ah and Seokjin swim alongside you as Namjoon leads you through the winding streets of the marketplace, stalls lined up like sentinels, though empty now in the quiet of night. The architecture is both foreign and familiar, illuminated by the soft glow of bioluminescent plants. Everything feels untouched by time, and yet alive with history. You pass the grand library next, its shelves filled with tomes both ancient and new, merfolk stories and human books resting side by side. You can almost feel the weight of untold stories and hidden lore that fills the space, waiting to be discovered.

Namjoon’s excitement builds as he takes you to a fitness center unlike anything you’ve ever seen—massive bars with stones at either end, weights crafted from various-sized rocks, and machines clearly designed for strength and agility in the water. It’s a glimpse into the life of these beings, how they build themselves in this weightless world.

After a while, Soo-ah and Seokjin bid you farewell, their presence a quiet comfort as they swim off together, leaving you alone with Namjoon. Your pulse quickens. His hand, still clasped in yours, feels warm even in the cold depths of the sea. The way he glances at you—those fleeting, secretive looks that you’ve caught out of the corner of your eye—makes your heart race even more. Hae’s words echo in your mind, whispering truths you’re not sure you’re ready to admit.

Could it be? you wonder, as the two of you drift toward his home.

“This is my place,” he says softly, his voice reverberating through the water as he turns on the light—an iridescent seashell hanging from the ceiling that casts a gentle, pearlescent glow throughout the space. His home is carved into the heart of a cave, the walls smooth and cool to the touch, like the sea itself has shaped them over countless years. Your eyes fall on his bed, draped in what looks like a soft, inviting duvet, but as you get closer, you realize it’s woven from delicate strands of kelp, swaying ever so slightly in the currents. It’s an unexpected beauty, intricate and organic, like everything in this underwater world.

The longest wall is dominated by a towering bookshelf, its shelves lined with books, arranged meticulously by color and size. It’s mesmerizing, this ocean of stories he’s collected, and you can’t help but wonder what worlds and lives he’s explored within these pages. You want to tell him, to say how beautiful it all is—his home, his soul, him. But your words are trapped beneath the weight of the sea, tangled with the breathlessness of being in his presence.

Your fingertips brush the spines of the books, imagining all the narratives they contain, each one another layer of who Namjoon is. You glance down at your joined hands—his fingers laced with yours, and in that quiet moment, you swear you can feel something electric passing between you. A pulse of warmth, a silent exchange of emotions you can’t speak. You want to kiss him, more than anything. The way he’s gazing at you, his eyes soft and full of something unspoken, the gentle curve of his lips hiding a blush you wish you could see more clearly.

But here, in this quiet cavern beneath the sea, there’s nothing you can do. You can’t ask him what you’re dying to know, can’t lean in and feel the warmth of his lips against yours, can’t tell him that you’re falling, deeply, helplessly. All you can do is float here, heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid.

He clears his throat, nervously scratching the back of his head. His mouth opens as if he’s about to speak, then closes again. There’s something he wants to say, you can feel it, lingering in the air between you. He tries again, and this time his voice, soft and hesitant, finally breaks the silence.

“Thank you for letting me show you my world.”

You squeeze his hand gently, pouring all the gratitude and affection you can’t voice into that single touch. You hope he feels it—the appreciation, the awe, the quiet longing you carry for him. And in that touch, you wish you could invite him into your world, share everything that you are with him, even though he’s been on land before. But you don’t know if he’d want that. You’ve never asked, never dared to imagine what it might be like to share your lives across these two worlds. You’re afraid to impose, afraid to hope too much.

The moment hangs fragile between you, but like all perfect moments, it begins to fade as reality presses in. You feel the pull of time, the reminder that you need to return to the surface. Namjoon feels it too. His eyes flicker with understanding as he leads you back out into the city, guiding you through the soft glow of bioluminescent lights, past the merpeople still moving gracefully through their midnight routines.

The silence between you stretches as you swim toward the boat where Hae waits, but it’s not the kind of silence that weighs heavy. It’s filled with possibility, thick with everything you haven’t said. Your heart beats faster as you realize that, once you’re back above the water, you’ll have the chance to speak. To ask. The thought of it sends your pulse racing, a swirl of excitement and terror mixing in your chest.

What if he doesn’t feel the same? The question spins through your mind, gnawing at the edges of your courage. But the way he looked at you, the way his hand feels in yours, gives you hope. And maybe—just maybe—that will be enough.

As you break the surface of the water, you push your goggles up to rest like a headband, feeling the cool night air kiss your damp skin. It’s crisp, almost electric, filling your lungs with a freshness that makes the world above feel more alive than ever. Namjoon surfaces beside you, offering you a soft smile, but your attention is caught by the subtle blush dusting his cheeks, a faint rose bloom in the moonlight. He seems hesitant, his uncertainty mirroring your own, as if you’re both standing on the edge of something vast and uncharted, too afraid to take that first leap.

For a heartbeat, he swims closer, his presence looming gently in your space. You hold your breath, your pulse quickening with the thought that he might—maybe—kiss you. Instinctively, you close your eyes, ready to surrender to that moment, but instead, his fingers brush your cheek, and he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear with such tenderness it sends a wave of warmth through your body. His touch lingers, delicate and deliberate, and though it wasn’t the kiss you imagined, it makes you blush all the same. The heat rises to your cheeks, flooding you with a mixture of longing and disappointment.

But then something stirs within you—some reckless courage sparked by his closeness—and before you can think it through, you lean in. Your lips find his, a soft, quick kiss, almost like a whisper. It’s gentle, just a peck, but his lips are warm, softer than you ever imagined, like the sea breeze caressing your skin on a summer evening.

When you pull away, you see the surprise flicker in his eyes for just a moment before his features soften into something tender and full of quiet affection. His ears burn red in the moonlight, and his dimples deepen as he gazes at you with a look that leaves you breathless. His brown eyes—dark and shimmering, like polished amber—glow with something more, something deeper. You think, just for a second, it’s desire, simmering beneath his calm exterior.

“Thank you for tonight,” you whisper, your voice barely carrying over the soft lapping of the waves. You squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth and strength of him, and smile. “It was so beautiful.”

Namjoon doesn’t speak; he simply looks at you, his dragon-like eyes full of quiet intensity, his dimples softening the tension in the air. It’s a look that makes your heart skip, that holds a thousand unsaid words between you. And as you reluctantly pull away, swimming toward the boat, your mind is still spinning from the kiss, from the closeness, from everything left unspoken.

Hae pulls you up into the boat, and as you sit, catching your breath, you catch her sly grin. You know she saw everything—the kiss, the blush, the way Namjoon looked at you—but for now, she stays silent, letting the moment hang in the air. You wave to Namjoon, watching as he offers one last gentle smile before disappearing back into the deep, dark waters, the night swallowing him whole.

And even as the waves settle, your heart still swells, full of the hope and mystery that the night—and Namjoon—left behind.

The days pass in a blur of anxious thoughts, your heart heavy with doubt. Every dive into the ocean feels colder without a trace of Namjoon, and the silence is deafening. Each time you resurface alone, your mind spirals further into uncertainty. Did you overstep? The kiss lingers on your lips, but now you wonder if it was a mistake. It feels as if he’s vanished into the depths, leaving you adrift. Is he avoiding me? The question gnaws at you, twisting your insides. Maybe this is his way of saying he doesn’t feel the same, that he wants nothing more to do with you.

Hae, ever the caring friend, drags you to a fancy restaurant in an attempt to soothe your restless mind, insisting that you’re worrying yourself to death. You look like a dog that’s been kicked, she had said with a shake of her head, trying to make you laugh. But now, as you sit across from her, poking at the salad you barely have the appetite to eat, the weight of your uncertainty presses down even harder. Your stomach twists with every bite, the anxiety clinging to you like a shadow.

“Maybe he’s just busy, or caught up in merfolk stuff?" Hae suggests, her voice light, trying to pry you from the dark corners of your thoughts. But your mind won’t let you escape. Busy? No, your treacherous thoughts whisper, he’s avoiding you—he’s forgotten you, and the kiss meant nothing.

You say nothing, only stabbing your fork into the salad with a kind of quiet fury, each jab into the leaves an outlet for the storm brewing inside you.

“Uh, ___?” Hae’s voice breaks the tension, but you barely lift your head. She stumbles over her words, clearly uneasy, her tone cautious as she leans in closer. “There’s a man—blue hair—he’s looking at us.”

At her words, something stirs in you, curiosity overriding the anger for just a moment. Blue hair? Your heart skips a beat, and before you can stop yourself, you turn around, almost instinctively, as though drawn by an invisible thread. Your gaze collides with a pair of deep, brown eyes that hold all the mystery of the ocean. Namjoon.

His eyes glisten like the sea at dawn, reflecting both depth and tenderness, swirling with something unspoken—regret, maybe even desire. You swallow hard, feeling the magnetic pull that has always existed between you, but this time, it’s stronger. The air around you thickens as he walks toward the table, his presence unmistakable, sending your pulse into a wild rhythm.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says, his voice soft, laced with an apology that doesn’t need to be spoken yet. The smile he offers is gentle, almost shy, and you can see the guilt in the way his eyes search yours. He knows. He knows he shouldn’t have disappeared without a word.

“Hi, Namjoon,” you manage to reply, the sound of his name on your lips stirring something deep inside you—something that’s a mixture of relief and frustration. You’re a little mad, of course you are. But as your heart races, you know you can’t stay angry with him, not when he’s standing there with that look in his eyes. He’s here now. And that’s enough for your heart to forgive him.

Your eyes travel down to his legs—strong, toned, perfectly human. He’s traded the water for the land, just for you, standing there in beige shorts like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And yet, your mind spins with the impossibility of it all, as if he’s a dream made flesh, and part of you still can’t believe he’s really here.

The air between you is thick with unspoken words, a tension that seems to ripple like the sea itself. Namjoon scratches the back of his head, his eyes shifting with uncertainty. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone,” he begins, his voice low and sincere. “I didn’t mean to disappear like that, but something happened in Naraeum—”

Before he can finish, the weight of your own anxiety breaks through, forcing the words from your chest. “I thought you didn’t like me, or just forgot about me.” The admission tumbles out, raw and trembling, the very fear that has haunted you for days finally taking shape between you. As soon as the words leave your lips, you feel exposed, vulnerable. You brace yourself for his response.

For a moment, he just stares, his expression frozen in disbelief, like your words have knocked the wind out of him. Then, his face softens, eyes wide with something close to shock. “Baby, no,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, the nickname slipping from his lips so naturally that it sends a flutter of warmth through your chest. He steps closer, worry etched in every line of his face as his gaze falls on you, sitting there with your heart in your throat.

Baby?

“I’d never forget about you,” he continues, his voice trembling slightly as he bites his lower lip, as if trying to hold something back. The intimacy of that small gesture makes your breath catch.

Hae clears her throat opposite you, breaking the charged moment. She rises from her seat, her chair scraping loudly against the floor, drawing both your gazes toward her flushed face. “Namjoon, please, take my seat and talk. I’ll go home and shower this tension off,” she says, her tone teasing but kind.

You open your mouth to protest, but then close it, realizing she’s right. The tension is palpable, thick as the ocean depths, and part of you is grateful for the space she’s offering. Even though nerves twist inside you like a storm, you know this is a conversation you need to have.

As Hae leaves, Namjoon sits down across from you, his eyes soft and apologetic. “I’m sorry I worried you, baby,” he murmurs, leaning forward slightly. His hands rest on the table, inching closer to yours, like he’s afraid to cross that final distance too soon.

There’s that word again—baby—and it stirs something deep inside you, butterflies rising in your chest, fluttering wildly, desperate to escape. It’s more than just a nickname; it’s a promise, a reassurance that melts the cold fear that has been gnawing at you for days.

“It’s okay,” you reply, your voice softer now, the storm inside you beginning to calm. “My mind just... got the better of me.” Your gaze flickers to where his fingers hover near yours, and your heart beats wildly at the nearness of him.

Namjoon is here, in front of you, and you realize with a quiet, overwhelming relief—he’s never really been gone.

“I could never not like you,” Namjoon murmurs, his voice dipping lower, softer, as if the truth is too delicate to be spoken aloud. “I think I... love you,” he finishes, the last words barely audible, yet they linger in the air between you like a fragile secret.

Did he just say love? Your heart stumbles, and for a moment, you forget to breathe. “You do?” you ask, your voice trembling with disbelief, your pulse fluttering wildly in your chest. Could it be real? Could he feel the same way?

A flicker of uncertainty dances across your mind, and you can’t help but press further, needing clarity. “Wait—do you think, or do you know?” Your question is gentle, but it carries the weight of hope, a hope that has been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Namjoon smiles at himself, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “Sorry,” he says, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable. “I know. I know I love you.”

Time seems to slow, the world slipping into a dreamlike state where everything feels soft, suspended, as if wrapped in the warm glow of your shared confession. The air between you feels charged, but also tender, like the fragile moment before the first petal falls. You can feel it now—he’s there with you, and this love, this real thing, is finally mutual.

You reach out, taking his hands in yours, and lean in closer. “I love you too, Namjoon,” you whisper, the words feeling both daring and true.

For a moment, silence settles between you, but it’s a comfortable silence—one filled with the weight of what’s just been said. His hazel eyes, flecked with warmth and softness, hold yours, and you swear you could drown in them. Drown and never wish to come up for air.

The pull between you is magnetic, and before you can stop yourself, the words slip out, unfiltered and bold. “Do you... want to come see my place?” The second the words leave your mouth, heat rushes to your cheeks. The invitation is brazen, filled with unspoken implications, but you know it’s what you want—all of him, not just this moment, but something more, something deeper.

Namjoon’s breath catches, and he stands, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yes, baby,” he replies in a voice that is almost a whisper, but carries the weight of everything he feels. That one word—baby—sends shivers spiraling down your spine, and you bite your lip, holding back a smile.

Hand in hand, you walk together through the quiet night, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth building between you. You don’t need words now; the simple contact of his hand in yours is enough, grounding you as you lean into his strong frame. It feels so natural, as if you’ve always been walking beside him, as if this was always meant to happen.

When you reach your apartment, you fumble for the keys, unlocking the door with a nervous flutter in your chest. As the door swings open, you flick on the light, and for a moment, you glance around, hoping he won’t find your space too cluttered or small. You’d cleaned just the day before, but still, anxiety lingers.

Namjoon steps inside, his eyes roaming the space, but he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he looks at you, his gaze heavy with something unspoken, something that makes your heart race. His hand tightens around yours, and you feel yourself being pulled further into his orbit, like gravity drawing you closer.

You look up at him, studying the moles that dot his skin, noticing the way his features are softened by the low light. He’s so close, and in this moment, with his warm eyes on yours and his hand gently holding yours, you think—this is what it means to truly be seen, to truly be wanted. And God, does he look so handsome.

Then, without hesitation, he dives in, his lips crashing into yours with a desperate, urgent need. The moment you let out a soft moan against his mouth, he releases your hand, now free to explore you. Both of his hands cup your cheeks tenderly, yet with a fierceness that pulls you deeper into him. The kiss consumes you, leaving you feeling like water melting in his palms—soft, fluid, and utterly surrendered. His lips tease yours, grazing them in a way that demands more, and when he seeks entrance, you grant it willingly. Your tongues meet in a slow, intoxicating rhythm, moving like waves crashing together under a moonlit sea.

Another moan escapes you, and you feel heat pooling deep inside, a yearning that’s overwhelming. And it’s only a kiss—yet it has you unraveling like a ribbon coming loose.

When he finally pulls away, his gaze locks onto yours, desire simmering in the air between you, thick and electric. “Baby, I want you so bad,” he breathes, his lips curling into a soft pout that makes your heart melt. How does he look both fierce and endearing at once?

You can’t help but smile, your own need burning just as fiercely. “Me too... Please call me ‘baby’ more,” you whisper, fluttering your lashes as you cling to the warmth in his eyes. “I love it.”

He chuckles, the sound like a low rumble of thunder. “Oh, I’ve noticed,” he says, amused. “Every time I call you ‘baby,’ your eyes dilate.”

You didn’t know that, but you feel the truth of it—the way that simple word makes your heart race, how it draws you even closer to him, making you crave more.

“I want you...” You pause, feeling the boldness rise within you, “I want you to fuck me.” Your voice is breathless, your gaze holding his with an unspoken plea.

Namjoon grins, a softness creeping into his eyes. “Oh, baby, I’m going to make love to you,” he whispers, and the words are like honey dripping slow and thick. “Don’t you worry,” he adds, his lips capturing yours again with a hunger that makes your head spin.

Each kiss sends you spiraling further into him, your sanity slipping, but God, you love every second of it. It strikes you then how much of a romantic he is, how the passion in his touch mirrors the stories he loves in his books.

He pulls back, his breath hot against your lips. “Where’s your bedroom?” he asks with a playful chuckle.

You point, and before you can say another word, his strong hands find your waist, lifting you effortlessly. You wrap your legs around him, straddling his hips as he carries you across the room. He opens the bedroom door with a sweep of his foot, not bothering with the light, and gently lowers you onto the bed. Laughter bubbles between you, soft and sweet, as his lips claim yours again in a kiss that is both feverish and tender.

Your fingers tangle in his blue hair, tugging at the strands, and he hisses in pleasure, the sound sending shivers racing down your spine. He grinds against you, his erection pressing firmly against your core, and you feel yourself unraveling again, melting beneath him. God, he feels big, you think, your body aching to know him, to feel him completely.

Your hands move to the hem of his shirt, your fingers brushing against his skin as you tug the fabric upward, longing to see his bare chest again. You know what lies beneath—his broad, muscular frame, every inch of him beautifully sculpted, chest rising and falling with each breath. And you need to touch him, to feel his strength beneath your hands.

In this moment, nothing else matters—just him, you, and the gravity of everything that has led you here.

He pulls away, sensing exactly what you want, and in one fluid motion, grabs the hem of his shirt, peeling it off in a way that feels almost sinful. The sight of him should be illegal—holy hell, the way his muscles flex as he undresses is enough to take your breath away.

Your hands move instinctively, drawn to the expanse of his chest, a perfect blend of softness and strength. The skin beneath your fingers is warm, and the way he feels—solid, yet yielding—is intoxicating.

“Like what you see?” he teases, his voice low and full of that gentle confidence, and you can only gape at him, feeling the warmth of your admiration blossom into something deeper.

“God, Namjoon, you’ve always been beautiful... inside and out,” you murmur, your voice filled with reverence, because while his looks are striking, it’s his soul that captivates you.

His lips curve into a soft smile, his gaze tender as he leans down, brushing light kisses along the curve of your neck. The sensation sends waves of laughter bubbling out of you, light and breathless, as the tickle of his lips spreads joy and heat all at once. He keeps moving lower, trailing kisses down your body like a map only he knows how to navigate.

When he reaches the waistband of your pants, he pauses, eyes flicking up to meet yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Can I?” he asks, his voice both eager and gentle.

“Yes,” you whisper, and as he unbuttons your pants, you arch your back to help him slide them off, heart racing. He pauses again, staring for a moment, captivated by the sight of you, the evidence of your desire already showing.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he says, his voice hushed and full of wonder. “All for me?”

You nod, breath hitching, your body already trembling with need. “Yes, Joon. You make me so damn wet,” you pant, writhing beneath him, desperate for more. “Please, just touch me.”

His gaze darkens with lust as he licks his lips, then dips his head lower, trailing kisses across your stomach, inching closer to where you need him most. Every touch sends sparks of pleasure through you, and you giggle softly, unable to contain the lightness you feel even as desire coils tighter within you. His lips press against the hem of your lace panties, nothing extravagant, yet he looks at you like you’re the most exquisite thing he’s ever seen.

With agonizing slowness, he hooks his fingers into the waistband, pulling them down with deliberate care. The cool air of your apartment contrasts sharply with the warmth between your thighs, and you gasp, aching for him. You feel exposed, vulnerable, but in the most delicious way—his gaze heavy with desire as he takes you in.

“Joonie…” you moan softly, voice trembling, as his eyes linger on your glistening pussy, admiring you. You wonder if he finds you beautiful like this, spread bare before him, and his awestruck expression tells you everything.

“Damn,” he whispers, voice thick with astonishment. “You’re so pretty… already dripping with need.”

Your breath catches as his words wash over you, and when he asks, “Can I taste you? Can I touch you?” you can barely manage a nod as you spread your legs wider, inviting him in.

“Please,” you beg, feeling delirious with want, every nerve in your body alight with anticipation.

His touch is featherlight at first, a single finger brushing over your swollen clit, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. You flinch, already overly sensitive, a gasp falling from your lips as your body responds immediately.

“More,” you plead, rolling your hips into his hand, urging him to press harder, to give you what you crave.

His fingers glide over you, warm and sure, stroking your slick skin with precision. Every movement sets off another spark, and a moan escapes you—high-pitched, breathy, and filled with need. His touch is both tender and demanding, and with every stroke, you feel yourself unraveling, caught in the storm of pleasure.

His fingers continue their rhythm, rolling over your sensitive clit with perfect precision, each movement making it throb with want. Your body reacts instinctively, hips rising to meet his touch, chasing more—chasing everything. You need all of him, and the craving is almost unbearable.

Namjoon watches you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken, his eyes filled with both desire and wonder as he works you with his fingers, and then, slowly, his lips find the tender skin of your inner thigh. His kisses are featherlight, but they leave a trail of fire in their wake, and you tremble under his touch. With each kiss, he moves closer, until finally, his mouth finds your pussy, his warm tongue lapping at your slick folds, tasting you with reverence.

He groans, the sound vibrating against your core, and your hands instinctively tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you want him to drown in your pleasure. His tongue flicks over your sensitive nub, teasing, tasting, and the sensation makes your whole body tense in anticipation. His fingers slide to your entrance, probing gently before slipping inside, one at a time. The stretch feels divine, his fingers curling to reach deeper, and soon two, then three fill you, stretching you in the most perfect, delicious way.

Your toes curl, your breath comes in ragged gasps as you feel the wave of your climax building, rising with every flick of his tongue, every stroke of his fingers. “Joon,” you gasp, a warning, but he only sucks harder, his lips and tongue working in tandem as his fingers thrust deeper, hitting that spot inside you that sends you spiraling.

The world tilts, and your back arches as the orgasm crashes through you, white-hot and electric. You thrash beneath him, pulling at his hair as pleasure floods your body, and all you can do is moan his name in a broken, breathless whisper. Even as your body shudders, he doesn’t stop, his mouth still on your clit, drawing out every last wave until you’re trembling with overstimulation. You tap his shoulder weakly, and finally, he pulls back, his face glistening with your slick, eyes dark with satisfaction.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, his hand brushing softly over your thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His touch is light, reverent, and though you’re still floating in the bliss of your release, you feel the need to return the favor rise within you.

“Let me take care of you,” you whisper, your voice thick with desire as you shift, pushing him down beside you. He opens his mouth to protest, but the words are swallowed by a low groan as you straddle his lap, feeling the hard bulge of his cock press against your wet core. You grind down on him, teasing him with the friction, and he lets out a ragged moan that makes your pulse quicken.

“I just want to make you feel good,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his lips, tasting yourself on him. “I don’t know how mermen make love, but as humans—I want you to feel good too.”

He chuckles softly, his hands resting on your hips, eyes dark with hunger. “It’s definitely not the same,” he admits, voice low and breathless, and that’s all the encouragement you need. You slide down his lap to the floor, your eyes locked on his, your intentions clear.

Your fingers find the waistband of his shorts, and he helps you pull them down, revealing his muscular thighs. When you see the thick outline of his cock straining against his boxers, your mouth waters, anticipation making your pulse quicken. Tugging down the last barrier, you free him, and his cock springs forward, thick and long, the head flushed red with need. A bead of precum glistens at the tip, and your breath hitches at the sight of him, hunger twisting deep inside you.

You lick your lips, your hands moving with purpose—one resting on his thigh, the other wrapping around the thick base of his shaft, feeling the weight of him in your palm. Slowly, you begin to pump, your fingers sliding over the velvety skin as you build a steady rhythm.

Namjoon groans, the sound so deep it reverberates through your core, and you can feel him tense beneath your touch, his body reacting to every stroke. His groans are like music, deep and sinful, and they make you want to push him further, to hear more of those primal, desperate sounds spill from his lips.

Damn, you need more of him.

You glance up at him, mischief in your eyes as you give a playful wink before taking him into your mouth. The taste is salty, a mix of his precum and something else, something almost elemental, as if the sea still clings to him. It sends a shiver down your spine, urging you to lose yourself in the act. You move with intent, your lips and tongue working in unison, breathing deeply through your nose as you take him deeper, each stroke making his body tremble beneath you.

He gasps your name, his voice barely a whisper, like it’s the only thing tethering him to the moment. His hands find their way to your hair, gentle, not controlling—just resting there as if he’s entranced by the sight of you. He glances down, watching the way your mouth moves over him, and his breath quickens, as if the very air has become too thin.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice strained, “you’re so damn good at this.”

You smirk inwardly, already knowing, but the praise sends a thrill through you. There’s something intoxicating about the way he fills your mouth, the way you feel him pulse against your tongue. It makes you wonder how your pussy will take him, how it’ll feel when he’s buried deep inside you, stretching you wide.

You’re making a mess of him—your saliva slicks his length, dripping down onto the sheets—but you don’t care. Not when he’s like this, writhing beneath you, his muscles taut with need. Your hand moves lower, cupping his balls, rolling them gently in your palm, and you feel them tighten as he draws closer to the edge.

“Damn,” he rasps, voice rough with desire, “you look and feel so fucking amazing.”

The sound of his praise sends another wave of heat rushing through you, making you wetter, a needy ache building low in your belly. You take him deeper, determined, your throat tightening as you try to swallow him down. But your gag reflex protests, and you pull back slightly, not wanting to push too far. Instead, you focus on teasing the head, your tongue circling slowly before flicking across his sensitive frenulum. He groans sharply, his hips jerking, and you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you.

He’s unraveling, his control slipping, and you love it—love the power you hold over him in this moment, love seeing him lost in you.

Suddenly, his hands come to your cheeks, stilling your movements as he looks down at you with hooded eyes, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. “Baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with both lust and affection, “you’re dangerous with that mouth. If you keep going, I’m going to come right down your throat… and I want to make love and come inside you.”

You release him with a soft pop, a teasing smirk playing on your lips as you lick them slowly, savoring the taste of him. “You can always come down my throat later,” you murmur, your voice low and sultry. Rising to your feet, you peel off your shirt, followed by the clasp of your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Your breasts spill free, and the heat in Namjoon’s gaze intensifies as his hands instinctively find your hips, his grip firm yet tender.

“Is every inch of you just perfect?” he breathes, awe in his voice. The compliment sends a flush of warmth to your cheeks, and you chuckle softly, not answering because his words feel rhetorical, like they’re part of the worship that’s building between you.

Instead, you lean down to kiss him, pouring every bit of your desire into it. His cock twitches beneath you, hard and throbbing against your thighs, but you take your time, savoring the kiss—long, slow, and tender. You straddle him, hovering just above his cock, your body aching to sink down, to feel him inside you. But instead, you pause, letting yourself get lost in the depth of his gaze, his eyes like molten gold, swirling with emotion.

He kisses you again, his lips soft but insistent, and in that moment, you feel weightless. Like you’re floating, caught in a current, drifting between pleasure and affection. You feel cherished, like a treasure he’s unearthed from the depths of the ocean—glimmering, precious, and adored like the gems you’ve been collecting.

He groans, a deep, feral sound vibrating from his chest, and his hands tighten around your hips, the pressure promising bruises that’ll bloom as tender reminders of this moment. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, baby,” he pants, his eyes dark and hooded with lust, as if he’s trying to memorize every curve of your face. His lips search for yours, hungry, desperate to close the space between you again.

“Likewise,” you breathe out, your voice shaky, your pulse racing. One of your hands trails down his body, fingers grazing his taut abdomen before wrapping around the thick length of him. You lift yourself slightly, feeling the heat of him against you. Just as you’re about to guide him inside, his deep voice cuts through the haze of desire.

“Should we use a condom?” he asks, his words momentarily shattering the tension, leaving the air thick but still.

You blink, slightly caught off guard, but quickly recover. “We don’t have to,” you murmur, sensing his hesitation. His brow furrows, so you add, “I have an IUD, and I’m clean. It’s… it’s been a long time for me.” Your words taper off, embarrassment creeping into your cheeks, suddenly feeling vulnerable beneath his gaze.

He studies you for a second, his expression softening before that same, dark hunger returns. “Okay, I just wanted to make sure,” he rumbles, his voice like molten velvet, sending shivers racing down your spine. The sound of him, the depth of his tone, makes your body respond instinctively—your pussy clenches with anticipation, aching for him to fill the emptiness inside you. “It’s been a long time for me, too. So, I’m sorry if I don’t last long…”

You shake your head, silencing his concern with a gaze that speaks louder than words. You need him, now. The heat between you both is unbearable, every second a sweet kind of torture. You guide the head of his cock to your entrance, teasing yourself by gliding him along your folds, feeling his hardness slick against your wetness, sending delicious tremors through your body.

Slowly, you position him at your opening and sink down.

The stretch is exquisite—a burn that ignites every nerve as he fills you inch by glorious inch. He’s thick, and the sensation of him sliding deeper feels like nothing you’ve ever known. Your breath catches in your throat, and you swear you hear him curse under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening as he savors the feel of your walls closing around him.

“Fuck…,” he groans, his voice wrecked, vibrating through you like a shockwave. “So damn tight.”

“Yeah…” you pant, your head spinning, your body adjusting to his size. Inch by agonizing inch, until finally, he’s fully seated inside you. You pause, trembling, your insides fluttering as he twitches deep within. You let out a soft moan, your lips searching for his in a fevered kiss, one that feels more like a collision than anything tender.

When you pull away, your gaze locks with his, your voice barely above a whisper. “You feel so fucking good… like you’ve always belonged there.”

He hums in response, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he traces your body with his hands, unable to take in enough of you. “You’re perfect,” he breathes, the words low and reverent.

Bracing your hands on his broad shoulders, you lift yourself slowly, your body trembling with anticipation. Then, with a burst of need, you slam down, impaling yourself on his cock, a scream of pleasure ripping from your throat. Namjoon moans, the sound guttural and raw, as you ride him with renewed vigor, losing yourself in the rhythm.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, catching his attention, and without hesitation, his hands move to cup them. His lips trail down to one nipple, his mouth warm and eager as he takes it between his lips. You gasp at the sensation, a surge of heat flooding your core, and you feel a gush of wetness coat him as your body responds to his touch. You didn’t realize you’d come until the tremors hit, your pussy clenching tightly around him, your body quivering in waves of pleasure.

His tongue circles your nipple, flicking it gently before his teeth graze the sensitive bud, and the sensation sends you spiraling. Your breath stutters as he switches to your other breast, his hands roaming, kneading your skin, every touch heightening the electricity between you. Just as his mouth closes around your other nipple, his teeth accidentally bite down harder than intended, and a sharp cry escapes your lips—his name, ripped from your throat like a plea and a curse all at once.

He freezes, eyes wide, concern flashing across his face. But the look you give him—wild, consumed with lust—tells him everything he needs to know.

“I’m so fucking sorry—,” he gasps, but his words barely register through the haze of pleasure clouding your mind. Your gaze softens, your eyes half-lidded with desire, a gentle delirium swirling in their depths.

“No, no, it was good, Joonie,” you whisper, your voice a breathy melody. Your hand drifts to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in the damp strands of his hair, tugging lightly. “I loved it.”

He pauses, a chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest, and you feel the twitch of his cock still buried inside you, a silent promise of more. His lips descend to your chest again, worshipping your skin with slow, languid kisses. His tongue finds your nipple, teasing it with a delicate flick before sucking, nipping just enough to make you moan his name, the sound a song on your lips.

Your body trembles, another orgasm crashing over you like a summer storm, your walls tightening around him in waves of bliss. He groans, a low, primal sound vibrating through your entire being. “Fuck, you—” His voice breaks with need as he rises from the bed, lifting you effortlessly, his body still entwined with yours. In one swift motion, he turns and lays you back down, pressing you into the sheets, his hips surging forward with raw intensity.

“This fucking pussy,” he growls, the words so feral, so laced with hunger that it sends a jolt of heat through you, your toes curling as your body responds to the deep, relentless thrusts. You moan, overwhelmed by the sensation of being pushed up the bed, your fingers gripping the sheets in desperation. Could you come again? Already, your body is teetering on the edge, caught in the rhythm of his passion.

He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “You look so gorgeous, baby,” he rasps, each word dripping with lust as his hips drive into you again, leaving you breathless, your chest heaving as though all the air has been stolen from your lungs.

“Are you gonna come again?” he asks, his voice rough with need. You bite your lip, uncertain if you can, but the fire in your core tells you otherwise. Your hand slips between your bodies, fingers seeking out your clit. Everything is so slick, so impossibly wet, but you manage to find that perfect rhythm, circling the sensitive nub as your breath hitches in your throat.

It’s like the tide pulling you under—a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you with blinding force. Your orgasm overtakes you, your body shaking beneath him as you cry out his name, each syllable a desperate plea, a prayer to the god of ecstasy. You thrash beneath him, lost in the throes of release, and still, he keeps thrusting, deep and deliberate, as your body flutters around him, the aftershocks rippling through you.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” he groans, his voice thick with desire as his cock twitches inside you, on the edge of release. “I’m not gonna last much longer.” With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his warm seed filling you as his orgasm hits him hard, his body trembling with the force of it. His face—god, it’s beautiful in this moment—the way his lips part, how his brow furrows in pleasure, how he keeps moving, riding out the last waves of his climax until he begins to soften inside you.

Both of you are left panting, gasping for air like you’ve surfaced from the depths of the sea. He collapses beside you, pulling you close, your bodies still warm, still trembling. Your chests rise and fall in sync, the silence between you heavy with shared satisfaction.

“That was amazing,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rasp against your ear.

You chuckle, cheeks flushed and glowing. “Yes… we should definitely do that again.”

He turns on his side, his fingers brushing your arm tenderly as he gazes at you, eyes filled with warmth. “We really should.”

But then, out of nowhere, a ripple of anxiety courses through you, tightening your chest. You turn to him, your heart suddenly heavy. “Can we really make this work?” you ask, your voice small, vulnerable. “You, being a merman… and me, human?”

Namjoon’s expression softens, his gaze tender as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. His hands trace soothing circles along your back, grounding you in the moment. “Yes,” he whispers, his voice filled with quiet certainty. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll make it work. We have to.”

In his arms, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, the world feels possible again.

→ Taglist: @allie-is-a-panda @jeonsbabygirlsworld @bangtannie7 @suker4angst → Disclaimer: the banner is obviously partly made with AI— I just want to point that out, to clear the air. I’d normally never use AI in my work, but for this specific fantasy series, I just came up really sort with making them myself with pre existing images of bangtan 😭 Because I want a certain aesthetic (no, a moodboard is not what I was looking for), I decided to use AI to crunch out the merman— I did not, and I repeat this, I did not write any of their names for the prompts, which is also why I do not want to show any faces in these banners, because I know how the guys feel about making AI with them, and I agree. Which is why, this is in short just generically made images that are prompted by a scene in the story. In the end, I still made the banner— did retouching, color grading, added and/or removed stuff, added background etc. Just to let you know. Normally, all my banners and graphics are made by me, unless otherwise stated! (lol, what I mean here is that I’m making them myself, I still sometimes use stock photos and vectors made by others in my work (the banners)). → Author’s note(2): Only four mermaid stories left now! 🥳I hope you’ll like the other ones as well, and please let me know what you liked; you’re always welcome to leave me a comment, a reblog or an ask 🥰 Thank you so much for reading, love you 💜

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hueseok · 24 days ago

Text

EASY MONEY, EASY LOVE ( index. )

you and namjoon have been married for five years.

despite being strangers who solely exchanged wedding vows to trick his filthy rich family into giving him his inheritance, being part of this scheme is surprisingly easy. he’s out of the country most of the time, you’re being compensated for being a model wife, and there are only a few things you two have to to do in order to keep up with the whole guise of being a happy married couple.

with less than three months to go until you get divorced, namjoon comes back from a business trip and stays with you at your shared house, waiting until d-day with the aim of sending off your odd friendship with a proper farewell. but it’s weird, because just when things are supposed to be easiest—that’s when everything is suddenly becoming complicated, and the two of you realized once again that there really is no such thing as easy money (or easy love).

pairing: namjoon x reader

rating: NC-17

content: fluff, angst, marriage of convenience au, strangers to friends to lovers au, dash of fake dating au, and they were housemates au???? | ft. chaebol!namjoon + travel photographer!namjoon; office worker!reader

general warning/s: swearing, mentions of a sickness, mommy issues, unsupportive family, depictions of loneliness / sadness, character death (no major characters though!)

THE PARTS: ( 01 / 15. )

✧ EPISODE 01. the one with the emergency !

✧ EPISODE 02. the one with the...

✧ EPISODE 03. the one with the...

✧ EPISODE 04. the one with the...

✧ EPISODE 05. the one with the...

✧ EPISODE 06. the one with the...

✧ EPISODE 07. the one with the...

✧ EPISODE 08. the one with the...

✧ EPISODE 09. the one with the...

✧ EPISODE 10. the one with the...

✧ EPISODE 11. the one with the...

✧ EPISODE 12. the one with the...

✧ EPISODE 13. the one with the...

✧ EPISODE 14. the one with the...

✧ EPISODE 15. the one with the...

TAGLIST STATUS: open! send an ask or reply to this post ♡

note. i love clichés and i love kim namjoon! hence this story was made hehehe

#bts imagines #bts x reader #bts drabbles #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagines #rm x reader #rm imagines #kim namjoon imagines #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon #bts #bts fanfiction #namjoon fanfiction #rm fanfiction #kim namjoon fanfiction #namjoon drabbles #rm drabbles

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hamsterclaw · 5 months ago

Text

Your ex-boyfriend's new song reels you back in.

Pairing: Namjoon x f! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Idol! Namjoon, smut, angst

Warnings: Sex, swearing, toxic relationship

Word count: 2k

‘The fuck you say about me?’ you demand.

The tall, buzzed blond man looks up, insolent, arrogant, so fucking sexy it hurts you.

He tucks his tongue in his cheek, flicks his hooded eyes over your rigid body.

‘If the shoe fits,’ he drawls, that familiar low voice smooth as silk.

‘You’re an asshole,’ you hiss, angry tears standing in your eyes. You blink and they stream down over your cheeks.

Kim Namjoon, your ex boyfriend, tilts his head. His gaze hasn’t left yours.

‘I miss making you cry,’ he says. His words come out slow, deliberate, every word like a bullet hitting its mark.

His aim’s always been sharp.

‘You never will again,’ you spit out.

You turn on your heel and yank open his studio door.

His hand lands on the door above your head, closes it again, caging you between him and the door. All six feet of him, packed with the muscle he’s put on since he started working out again.

He leans down, you can feel his breath on the back of your neck as he whispers, ‘How does it feel to be the one caught off-guard?’

You try to turn around and face him but his large hand lands on your shoulder, pinning you into place.

He’s always been bigger, but he’s never used his strength against you before.

You’re shaking with a rage and hurt so deep you can’t verbalise. You sob, a gulp of air, and try to turn again.

He holds firm, and you can’t move.

‘Stop,’ you say, throwing an elbow back, struggling against his grasp.

Namjoon releases you just enough so you can turn to face him.

There’s a hardness to his expression that you haven’t seen before.

‘Now you know how it feels,’ he says.

‘Let me go,’ you scream, right up into his face, so loud your ears ring.

He barely blinks.

‘You come into my studio to start shit? What did you expect?’ he hisses.

‘You touch me, I’ll go to the press,’ you say, shoving at his chest.

Namjoon laughs, short. ‘And say what? No one knows we ever fucked.’

His words hang between you.

The tears are still falling, but your composure is returning.

‘I know,’ you say, voice thick. ‘And you know.’

Your words make some of his anger drain away. You can see him visibly easing out of the rigid posture he was in, leaning back so he’s not looming over you.

‘We know,’ he muses.

‘And now anyone who listens to that track will know,’ you say, looking at him steadily.

He runs a hand through his buzzed hair.

‘They’ll know you fucked me over,’ he says. ‘They’ll know my side.’

He’s not wrong. There are two sides to your tumultuous relationship, and he’s told his side in the way he does best.

It’s unfortunate for you that he has the platform to reach millions of people.

You’re standing a foot apart now, bodies still turned to each other.

‘I fucked you over,’ you muse. ‘I fucked you over.’

He’s staring at your mouth and you know exactly what he’s thinking.

For all his emotional intelligence and his intellect, he’s always been a simple man.

‘Come down so I can reach,’ you say.

He leans down and your hand comes up to slap him. He catches your wrist mid-air, grip so strong it’s like steel, and lowers his mouth onto yours.

His kiss is hard, bruising, his tongue delving into your open mouth in a rhythm that makes you shiver.

He tugs you up on tiptoe, and you bring your hands up to keep space between you. He ignores the way you’re pushing at his chest, takes the way you’re kissing him as consent.

You give up.

You melt into his frame, close, arm curling around his neck to hold on as he presses his hot mouth to your neck. His tongue flicks over your skin, his lips form a seal and he sucks, a sensation that has warmth pooling at your core.

He groans, low, his hands already sliding up under your top, cupping your breasts over your bra.

Instead of unhooking, he hooks his finger under the band of your bra and tugs, up, lowering his head to suckle at the tip of your breast. His tongue swirls, and heat pulses between your legs.

‘Take it off,’ he says, eyes hooded, pupils blown.

You tug your top off, then your bra. You’re not self-conscious about how you look in front of him.

Namjoon’s shown you a million times how much he loves your body.

Sure enough, he’s pushing you back onto the couch, mouth all over your tits, his big hands splayed around your waist, gripping you tight.

You try not to moan but you can’t stop yourself. He knows exactly how to pleasure you, it’s a learned skill from the hundreds of times you’ve fucked.

He laves his tongue over your nipple, and you’re already craving the thick length of his cock inside you.

He’s watching you as he kisses a path down the bare skin of your torso. He gets to the button of your jeans, undoes it deftly and you lift your hips so he can tug them off.

Underneath, your panties are sticking to you. He splays a hand over the curve of your hip, places his hand on you and you close your eyes as he rolls the pad of his thumb over your clit, slow, teasing.

You put a hand over your mouth to stifle your moans, and he tugs it away, rough.

He’s still fully dressed, the lights all blazing above you, and the juxtaposition of how he’s fully in control and how he’s taking you apart under him adds an unwanted intrusion to the haze of pleasure.

Shame.

It’s more about the way you’ve treated him than the way he’s got you spread and almost naked under him.

It’s more about the things you’ve said to this man who you’re supposed to love than the moans of wanton pleasure you’re expressing now.

He’s the one with a finger in your cunt but you think over the years you’ve fucked him just as much.

The tears come again, and Namjoon notices. He’s seen you cry so many times but there’s still a thin thread of decency that makes him lean down and kiss your forehead.

‘If I stop we’ll only feel worse,’ he murmurs, certainty in his tone borne of experience.

‘You know I love how you fuck me,’ you say, softly, speaking like it’s a secret between you and him.

There’s a flash of regret in his eyes but he doesn’t dwell on it. Fucking won’t close the chasm between you but it’ll sure as hell make you both forget for a while.

He gets up, unbuttons, lets his loose jeans slip down and then he’s in his chair, thighs spread, hard dick in his hand.

There’s a smear of pre-cum on his grey tee that’s probably worth more than your car but Namjoon’s never given a fuck about his clothes.

He watches, intent, as you slip your panties down, kick them away.

He cups your bare bottom as you straddle him, lets your hand cover his around his cock.

You curl your fingers around him, and he huffs out a breath.

More pre-cum slips between your fingers as you position the head of him where you need him.

Namjoon’s dimple flashes, brief, as his lips curve.

‘Take it slow, baby, you know how sore you get.’

There’s a taunt in his low voice but the hands still supporting your ass are gentle.

You take the tip of him inside you, and he clenches his jaw.

His body, underneath you, is tense with holding himself back.

Namjoon can be gentle but he’s not a patient man.

You lower yourself, slow, thighs quivering with effort.

The slide of his cock is so damn satisfying, every time.

Namjoon lifts his hips, a push, two, then he’s in all the way.

You both groan.

You rest your forehead against his, fighting to regulate your breathing.

He’s struggling too, his heart thumping against his chest.

‘Fuck, fuck,’ he mutters. ‘Why’s it so good every time?’

He catches your cheeks between his thumb and fingers, squeezes your tear streaked face.

‘I want to make it work,’ he vows. ‘Why can’t we make it work?’

He’s squeezing so hard you’re worried he’ll leave fingermarks on your cheeks.

You could give a trite response, a dozen snappy comebacks are in your mouth ready to be said, but instead you close your eyes.

Take in the feel of him inside you, his body around yours. His scent on your skin.

Every time could be the last time.

Then again you’ve been saying that since you met him.

You curl your arms around his broad shoulders, move your hips, pull his head between your breasts.

He comes willingly.

You lift your hips, up so he’s just barely inside, then drop them. The sounds of your joined bodies in the otherwise silent soundproofed studio are obscene and beautiful.

You keep up the rhythm, slowing when you’re close, when your peak’s within reach.

Namjoon’s looking up at you.

His dimples flash.

‘Always did need me to finish you,’ he says. If there’s arrogance in his tone it’s been earned over all the times you’ve fucked.

You press your thumb into his cheek.

‘So do it.’

Namjoon grasps your hips, grinding you onto his pelvis. He fucks up into you, grunting with the effort. His skin gleams with the sweat he’s worked up.

‘Fuck,’ you gasp.

Namjoon swears.

‘Gripping me so tight, fuck!’

Namjoon pulls you down, plunges his tongue into your mouth as he fucks you.

You cry his name as you come, words passing from your mouth to his, and he closes his eyes.

His thrusts slow, erratic, as he pumps his release into you.

You get up, legs wobbly from being fucked so hard and well, totter to the couch and press your face between the joins. You can’t look at him or you’ll cry again and you both hate that.

A moment later you feel the weight of him next to you.

His big palm lands on your ass along with the whole weight of his arm.

He buries his face in your hair.

You don’t think there’s anything left to say.

***

You’re curled up in Namjoon’s pre-cum stained shirt, knees up and together on his cum-stained couch, watching him flick a lighter on and off.

Without turning he says, ‘Don’t give me that fucking screw face when you’ve got my t-shirt on and my come running down your leg.’

You try to readjust your resting screw face but he turns and catches you.

You have to laugh at how well he knows you.

He’s picked up your panties, twirling them around his finger.

‘You gonna go?’ he asks. He’s looking at you, so you do him the courtesy of meeting his gaze.

‘Yeah.’

He nods. ‘I had the codes changed on all the doors. Your fingerprint won’t work anymore.’

It’s your turn to nod.

‘I moved,’ you feel the need to tell him.

‘I know,’ he says.

You’re not surprised to hear he looked for you.

It’s the hallmark of the many years of toxic codependency you shared.

Your friends got married and had babies.

You and Namjoon went up in flames and rose from the ashes. The cycle went on.

Fuck, cry, repeat.

You get up, start getting dressed.

You’ve got your hand on the door when you turn back to look at him a last time.

He’s already looking at you.

‘You hungry?’ you ask.

It takes him less than a second to decide.

#bts smut #bts rm #rm x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon scenario

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secretsecretbunny · 6 months ago

Note

i NEED more bts texts… so like maybe one where reader leaves in the night and he’s frantic thinking she left but she actually had some kind of emergency (family or other) and FLUFFFFFF!!!?

any of the boys idm or all if you want? idk anyway ily and ur work <3333

here you go!! I hope it's alright, I got a little carried away with it lmao. there's 21 screenshots 💕

• angst/fluff ??? hurt/comfort ??? idk, read it 😭

-> BONUS:

masterlist

723 notes · View notes

whyse7vn · 2 months ago

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Us -

[ot7 x reader]

AGUST DUI 🛴🔥

7 participants - 7 online

———————————

tae: ok raise your hand if you think yoongi should of died in the crash

namjoon: why would you say that?

tae: jungkook raise your hand

jk: ok

tae: not in real life the emoji please

jk: ok sorry

wait how did you know i raised my hand in real life??

tae: just do it

jk: like nike LOL

tae: i’m going to skin you alive

jk: sorry

🙋🏻‍♀️

tae: why are you a woman

jk: gender is a construction

hobi: construct

jk: control

hobi: we are not playing a game

i am correcting you

jk: oh

tae: connecticut

hobi: stop

tae: i wanted to play :(

hobi: it wasn’t a game can you read

jk: omg i know someone from connecticut

i think

jin: you have no friends don’t lie jungkook

jk: no i swear i do

tae: he does

hobi: don’t act like you know

tae: i know

hobi: who is jungkooks friend then?

tae: jungkook tell this idiot ☠️

hobi: i’m asking YOU to tell me

jk: i don’t know who it is

but i know

i’m going to go insane who is it ohmygod

y/n: jaehyun lmao

hobi: oh

jin: yikes

jk: i’m sorry

tae: how dare she lmao like she didn’t just cook my first born alive by saying that name

jk: she typed it btw

tae: that’s not the point jungkook

i’m throwing up

jk: ur right me too

i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry

y/n: ???

don’t be sorry

jk: >.<

yoongi: lol

jin: tf he laughing at?

yoongi: we’re always talking about jaehyun for some reason

hobi: be fr

yoongi: …

y/n: shouldn’t you be dead from the crash or something

tae: IM SAYING LIKE

jk: maybe he’s still drunk

hobi: LMAOOOO

yoongi: i did not crash

namjoon: he just fell over guys

yoongi: right

jin: ofc the bitch with no license is defending the other bitch with no licence

y/n: typical 🙄

yoongi: why do you know he’s from connecticut

y/n: what????

namjoon: uh??

jin: wasn’t he JUST complaining about how much we talk about you know who…

hobi: kook was right this man is still off the juiceeeee

ha juice by shinee

i’m so funny wow

tae: if we think about it wtf is connecticut

what the fuck is that srsly

i hate that

what does that mean

america is so strange

another white thing i don’t get

i hate white people

jin: ur borderline white

tae: wtf is wrong with you never say shit like that again

ur borderline old

ur borderline dying

AND ur paler than me

like wtf

this poc erasure

someone get him

jk: connecticut more like connectiYUCK 🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢

EWWUUUUUU 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮

hell on earth

yoongi: what

namjoon: ?

yoongi: are we talking about again

i just lost my train of thought

hobi: choo choo

y/n: chuu chuu

namjoon: jaehyun…

jk: 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤢🤢

tae: AND we are talking about poc erasure if you even care

you probably don’t

because you’re a racist

just like your father namjoon

jk: yoongi is older than namjoon

btw

tae: ok???

maybe i wasn’t even talking to yoongi

jk: ok i’m sorry

tae: it’s ok son

hobi: who the fuck were you talking to then?

tae: well yoongi but like maybe i wasn’t at the same time yk?

y/n: shut up

jk: yes

y/n: ?

tae: ok raise ur hand if you think hoseok is being unnecessarily mean to kim taehyung the 3rd today

namjoon: anyways

yoongi are you ok??

yoongi: yeah sorry my head is just all over the place rn

forget everything i said

hobi: is this due to your alcohol consumption

or is it your age getting to you LOL

since your old

older than namjoon

jk: older than namjoon

jin: jungkook is 27 btw

y/n: 23 forever

jin: that’s almost 30 yk?

hobi: at least it’s not 31

yk…

like you

jin: ok

jk: ok !!!!

namjoon: yeah i don’t know what you wanted to get out of that one…

jin: kys

ALL of you

hobi: ❤️

jk: love is love

y/n: awoman

jk: awoman

tae: if you all loved me you would send me a stack

hobi: notice how no money is being sent to your account

take that into consideration

tae: how about you consider my fist in you face

ok i take that back

hobi: don’t

y/n: bryson tiller

tae: why not :(

you didn’t even know what i was gonna say hobi >.<

hobi: namjoon tell him to shut up

namjoon: tae please

tae: yeah ok 😔

cuz you know i do NOT want the smoke

he might do me like he did jaehyun 😭🙏🏼

hobi: will you STOP bringing that up

tae: will you send me a STACK?

hobi: no

tae: then NO

namjoon: both of you stop

also where is jimin??

physically i mean

like do any of you know?

yoongi: y/n’s house i think

y/n: no he’s not??

tae: woah

jk: btw that is also my house yoongi

so y/n AND jungkook’s house

yoongi: y/n and jungkook’s house then

y/n: he’s not here

yoongi: but he was

y/n: how do you even know that??

yoongi: i just do

y/n: ok ????

yoongi: ok

jk: ok \ ^0^ /

tae: wait

jk: JIMIN WAS IN OUR HOUSE ?????

jin: keep up ohmugod

jk: LIKE PHYSICALLY IN OUR HOUSE

WHERE I SLEEP AT NIGHT???

y/n: he wasn’t in my room no

if that’s what ur asking

jk: BUT HE WAS HERE???

AFTER HE WAS SO MEAN SO EVIL?!

y/n: it’s been weeks i was gonna talk to him at some point ig

hobi: communication is key!

not key from shinee btw

jk: WHEN DID HE COME????

WHY DID HE COME????

y/n: he came a few weeks ago

august 6th ? i think

to talk about everything and apologise

jk: you let him in?

tae: LIKE…

y/n: yes

jk: and where was i?

y/n: it was a wednesday so ur boxing class?

jk: i’ve been staying back for those classes

so he came late right?

y/n: yeah

jk: did you invite him?

y/n: no he kinda just showed up

jk: and you still let him in??

y/n: yes jungkook

jk: why didn’t you tell me??

y/n: i wasn’t trying to keep it a secret or anything it just a lot

like a lot seriously

i wanted to give both me and jimin some time to process it all before we brought it all back to you guys

but i was going to tell you

all of you

jk: yeah but like it’s been weeks…

namjoon: to be fair i also did talk to

jimin and didn’t tell anyone

jk: namjoon

jin: also did that

hobi: u all know i talked to him so…

jk: guys???

i’m confused like what he said was wrong but you’re all still talking to him

like everything’s ok???

namjoon: he apologised to her kook

jk: FUCK HIS APOLOGY?????

tae you get it right?? you didn’t speak to him right??

tae: no i get it

i get you

i understand fully

but i won’t lie to you

i DID speak to him

on the phone

only for 5 minutes tho

i counted

i just wanted to make sure he didn’t yk like kill himself or something…

you know jimin is weak like that

not calling people who commit suicide weak but like calling jimin weak cuz that’s what he is

jk: TAE?????????????

tae: SORRY SUICIDE IS REAL YK?

AND LIKE IT DOESNT TAKE AWAY FROM THE FACT THAT I STILL WANT TO PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE

i was just

checking?

namjoon: you can say you were worried about him you know that

jk: SHUT UP???£/8/8/8,&&:&,

NO HE CAN’T

YOU ALL HAVE NO BACK BONE /£2&/&&:&:

NO LOYALTY

HE BASICALLY CALLED Y/N A WHORE AND YOUR ALL FRIENDS WITH HIM AGAIN??????

LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED?????

tae: NO I’M MAD IM STILL SO FUCKING MAD THE FUCK????

FUCK JIMIN I MEAN IT

jk: you are a liar

guys what£/£/&/&:&:

i thought you guys were better than this ???

i thought you all cared

jin: don’t be stupid

of course we care

jk: then act like it????

y/n tell them

y/n: jungkook

jk: tell them

in fact

jk added jimin to “AGUST DUI🛴🔥”

jk: tell ALL of them

y/n: jungkook please

jk: y/n seriously

jimin: hey

jk: shut the fuck up

tae: dude

i know ur upset and angry but doing this rn isn’t gonna solve anything

namjoon: he’s right jungkook

ur acting on emotion and not thinking properly right now

jk: IM not thinking properly???

was jimin thinking properly when he called her a slut and then ran away like a bitch?? was he????

namjoon: obviously not jungkook

hobi: but they’ve talked it out and he’s said sorry

jk: HIS SORRY DOESN’T MEAN SHIT

WHAT DO YOU GUYS NOT UNDERSTAND?

his fucking sorry means nothing

him saying sorry doesn’t take back the words he said

or any of the hurt he caused

namjoon: jungkook like she told us they’ve talked about it and he’s apologised

i not sure what more you want

jk: I WANT YOU GUYS NOT TO MOVE ON SO FUCKING FAST??

I WANT YOU GUYS TO AT LEAST TELL HIM HOW FUCKED UP THAT ALL WAS

BOTH PUBLICLY AND PRIVATELY

he should be walking around eggshells around us rn

you guys should be giving him a hard time

not wondering where he is or whether he’s depressed or not

and you wanna know something?

after it all happened she cried for hours

hours

i have genuinely never seen her so upset

she told me not to tell anyone but i have to so guys can fucking understand

and the fact that we didn’t even know that her and jimin spoke???

does that not bother you all?????

the fact that she was “so fine” and “okay” about the whole situation but didn’t tell us that they had supposedly ‘made up’

tae: she said that she was planning on telling us

jk: yeah but she didn’t did she? it’s been weeks

she said they spoke august 6th right?

we are quite literally in a whole new month

and you ALL should know that when she doesn’t tell us things it’s because she’s upset

you should KNOW her

and how she deals with things

you all claim to care but i’m yet to see how

you know i was really excited about this

we were all you know realising

and coming to terms with this

i thought that we felt the same

but this has shown me that you guys don’t even feel a quarter of what i do for her

and you probably never will

the way that you all just took her word for her being fine and okay about the whole situation without actually genuinely checking in with her is insane and the way you all rushed to make sure jimin was ok was even crazier

i just

whatever

bye

—

as you can probably tell this was supposed to be released last month but i tried to adjust it as much as i could

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @earthela @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @seokmyballs @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @meowgiz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiislife @lowkeykin @iammeandmeisiam @socksfirstalways @knilvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks @futuristicenemychaos @featjunranghae @jksgirlfrl @yeetedandoboi @stellamalonesolaria @joonsprettygf

#happytimessoon >.<

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littlemisshyperfixation · 7 months ago

Text

BTS Fic Recommendations

I'll go back and add more fics as I find them! <3

⊹₊⋆ Seokjin

⊹₊⋆ Yoongi ♡part 1 ♡part 2

⊹₊⋆ Hoseok

⊹₊⋆ Namjoon

⊹₊⋆ Jimin

⊹₊⋆ Taehyung

⊹₊⋆ Jungkook ♡ part 1 ♡ part 2

⊹₊⋆ BTS Favorites

589 notes · View notes

sxgakookie · 9 days ago

Text

Summary: You're an author giving a talk for your newest published work, when you're asked a question about your recent engagement to Kim Namjoon. The question gives you an opportunity to relive the chance meeting and the sweet moments that made you fall for your fiancé. Genre: Fluff, Smut (softdom! and idol!Namjoon x reader) Rating/Warnings: Adults Only (Strong language, oral [male and female receiving], riding and missionary sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms) Word Count: ~5.6k words

“Our conversation is about to wrap, and I know that we have questions from the audience, but there is one more thing I’d like to mention.” The interviewer, Ji-ah, said with a bright, white smile. “Your recent engagement to Kim Namjoon. I just wanted to say congratulations.”

“Thank you.” You blushed, not expecting your fiancé to come up in the interview. The audience clapped, with smiles, clearly happy to see you happy.

“I just wanted to ask, what is that story?” Ji-ah asked. “How did the two of you get together?”

“Well,” You laughed, thinking back to past moments, like flipping pages in your memory book. You look out into the audience, speaking to everyone there with sparkling eyes. “We met in this beautiful city, actually. It was during my first trip here, to Seoul.”

You stood in your hotel room, slipping on a newly purchased pair of black patent leather heels, perfect for your planned night out. It was something you were looking forward to, after working all day, signing Korean-language copies of your most recent best seller. Ever since landing in Seoul, you had wanted to explore the city, particularly its art scene, as art has always been a love of yours, wherever you traveled.

After you slipped on the heels, you did a quick check in the mirror, making sure your makeup, hair and dress were to your liking. You threw on a beige coat for the cold, winter winds outside, and made your way down the hall of the hotel, to meet your driver outside.

Seoul was beautiful at night, especially when the snow was light and fluffy. Flakes collected on the glass of the backseat window, where you watched the buildings pass by. The streets were illuminated by the soft glow of street lights, and, despite the cold temperatures, people were bracing the weather, still out and about. You sent a quick text to your literary agent, to thank her for getting you into this exhibition opening, barely being able to press send before you had arrived.

The gallery was small and intimate, with bright white walls and dark, black floors, giving it a modern yet still warm feel. When you entered, a polite employee took your coat for you, and offered you a glass of red wine. You accepted with a smile and a ‘thank you’ in your best Korean, before heading off into the crowd.

If there were anyone there that you knew, you wouldn’t have noticed with the way your eyes latched to the work of Agnes Martin. Beautiful, minimalist works graced the white walls, etches of grids with a human touch. You stood in front of one, its color a deep blue, and allowed yourself to get lost in the work.

A man, who had been walking the circumference of the room opposite of you, had met you in the middle, at this deep blue piece. He stood next to you, towering over you with his rather tall height and toned body. He raised his own glass of wine to his lips, and caught glimpses of you out of the corner of his eye, noticing you were doing the same.

“This one is gorgeous, isn't it?” You finally spoke, being the first to break the ice.

“Yeah.” He nodded, taking another short sip. “It’s so easy to just get lost in her work.”

“Mhm.” You hummed in agreement. “Like you’re melting into it.”

The man turned to face you directly, making the size difference even more pronounced. He had sparkling dark eyes, and thick black hair, styled well. He was more casually dressed than many of the people there, and like yourself, one of the younger attendees, though you felt he was a couple years older than you.

“I’m Namjoon.” He introduced himself with a smile. It was infectious, you noted, as you mimicked with your own smile. Your eyes flashed to his deep dimples on his cheeks.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N… Y/L/N?” Namjoon asked, his eyes widening. “You just published a book here, didn't you?”

“I did.” You smiled warmly. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to know me here.”

“Actually, I had read it only like, a day or two after it came out.” Namjoon explained. “Hidden Places, right? Yeah I um, to be honest, I don’t usually read essay collections but your book may have changed my mind.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” You said. “And also, you’re Kim Namjoon, right? The musician?”

“Yeah.” He flashed his dimples. “It’s hard to be a stranger sometimes, right?”

“Definitely.” You laughed. “But, it’s ok. I suppose you get used to it. So, you collect her work?” You asked, your head motioning towards the work.

“Not yet.” Namjoon said. “That’s why I came tonight, seeing if anything stuck out to me.”

“And?” You asked. “Did it?”

“Maybe.” He said, looking back at you. You smiled under his gaze, and there was a moment of pause, as Namjoon’s eyes lingered on you for just a bit. “Do you, uh… Do you collect her work?”

“Not really.” You shook your head. “But I’m a fan. Just haven’t sold that many books yet, you know?”

“Right.” He nodded.

“I read Olivia Laing’s essay about her, and I really became a fan of hers through that.” You mentioned, walking to the next piece together.

“Yeah?” Namjoon said, his brows raised. “Why?”

“Because it’s amazing to me how a woman with such a complicated and chaotic life, could create work that’s so… still.” You said, as though talking to yourself. “It’s peaceful. Y’know, sometimes, we say that we try to see ourselves in art, but I don’t think that’s true. I think we try to see our ideal version of ourselves in art. So if we live messy, chaotic lives, we’re drawn to something like this. Peaceful. Simple. Because that’s what we’d like our lives to be.”

Namjoon listened intensely, his focus on your lips, as if he were reading the words you were speaking directly.

“Is that what you’d like your life to be?” He asked, with another sip of his wine.

“Maybe.” You shrugged, before realizing how long you’ve talked. “I’m babbling, sorry.” You blushed.

“No, it’s great.” He confessed. “I think you’re right. Maybe that’s why I like her work, too.. I think I’d like my life to be more simple.”

“Same.” You laughed together, and sipped your wine.

You continued chatting throughout the night, content to meet a friend in a new city. Namjoon carried himself with a warmth to him that was so genuine, and it radiated throughout the whole room. Many people came up to speak to him, and you couldn’t tell if he knew each one or not, because he spoke to each person as though they had been friends for years. It was nice, you thought, to meet someone so personable in a world that seems so isolated.

The night was coming to a close, and tipsy patrons were making their way out of the gallery. Namjoon walked out with you, both of you with your hands in your coat pockets. You could see your breath in the cold air, and your driver parked parallel on the street.

“It was lovely meeting you. Thanks for keeping me company tonight.” You smiled.

“Any time.” He responded. “Hey, um… How long are you in the city for?”

“About a week or so,” You said. “I’m here for work, but my nights are free. Next weekend, I’m leaving for some events in Busan.”

“While you’re here, I was thinking I could show you around.” Namjoon said. “If you’d like to.”

“Yeah, for sure.” You nodded. “That would be great.”

You exchanged numbers, and Namjoon gave a promise to call you. He stood on the sidewalk, and watched you run through the falling snow to the black SUV that was waiting for you. When you closed the door, you could see that he was still there, smiling at you and waving you goodbye.

“Wow.” Ji-ah smiled. “What a chance meeting, right?”

“It was.” You said gently. “To be honest, I assumed we’d both be too busy and forget to call each other, or I just thought, ‘Hey, I have a new friend in a new city. Sure, he’s cute, but whatever. It’s fine.’” You laughed, and the audience laughed too.

“But, he obviously did call.” Ji-ah said with a grin.

“He did.” You nodded. “Just like he said he would, the very next day. And me, being as oblivious as I am, didn’t realize we weren’t just making plans to ‘hang out.’ I never even considered he had more in mind.”

“You didn’t realize it could’ve been a date?” Ji-ah laughed, alongside you and the audience.

“No!” You giggled. “I seriously thought he was just my new friend.”

“So… What happened?” Ji-ah asked.

Namjoon glanced at the time on his phone, knowing he was early. The reservations weren’t for another fifteen minutes, and as he watched his own breath escape his lips, he cursed his own excitement for bringing him here this early. But, he wanted to make sure you weren’t waiting for him so, here he was, alone and cold in front of the restaurant.

He watched as people went about their evening, trying to take his mind off the chills he had. Kids across the street laughed as they played in front of the convenience store, where two men in suits ate instant ramen from cheap to-go bowls, seated in front of the window. Namjoon noted their loose ties, and wondered if they worked together, getting food to decompress after a hard day, or if they just found each other in the same place, at the same time.

“Hey!” You yelled with a wave, snapping Namjoon out of his daze. You were on the other side of the street, waiting for the traffic light to change. He smiled and waved back, and watched how your hair bounced with every fast step you took across the crosswalk.

“Hey.” He greeted. “How was your day?”

“Busy.” You smiled. “Yours?”

“The same.” He said. “I think it’s almost time for our table to be ready. Let’s get you in from the cold.”

Namjoon opened the door for you, motioning you in with a playfully exaggerated wave of his arm. You giggled at his antics, and entered the warm, dimly lit restaurant. The building was beautiful, clearly upscale, and not a casual “hang out” spot, like you had assumed.

“Table for Kim Namjoon.” The host smiled politely, gathering a set of menus in his hands. “Right this way, please.”

Namjoon followed behind you as the two of you made your way to your table; an intimate, private table near the back of the restaurant. Namjoon politely helped you into your seat, before sitting down across from you. You thanked the host, and then began looking over the pages of the menu. Namjoon, however, was looking at you; the woman who had occupied his mind for the last twenty-four hours.

“I thought about what you said,” Namjoon finally spoke, causing you to glance at him. “About our lives, and if they’re messy and chaotic, we seek out the opposite.”

“Yeah? You remember my babbling?” You chuckled.

“I agree with your babbling.” Namjoon corrected with a dimpled smile. “I think, with my own life, I search for peaceful things to try to balance out the chaos.”

“And are you successful?” You ask.

Namjoon just smiled warmly, staring at you, wondering how it’s possible for a woman to be that beautiful. “I’m trying.” He finally answered.

Throughout the dinner, you were lost in conversation with Namjoon, and Namjoon was struck by just how easy it felt to be with you. The two of you laughed, enjoyed wine and food, and Namjoon knew with his best instincts that you were someone special. Intelligent, personable, beautiful. The ingredients of the girl of his dreams. He knew you were barely an acquaintance, and he cursed himself for always jumping the gun when it came to love. But he also knew how he felt with you, and he couldn’t ignore it. He wanted to get closer.

“…So, yeah, I have to go to Busan soon.” You said. “I’m sure it’s lovely there, but I have to admit, I just love Seoul so much.”

“You could come back.” Namjoon suggested, trying to play it off as a nonchalant thought. “When you’re done with work, just come back and spend some more time here.”

“Maybe.” You smiled at the thought. “I’ll think about it.”

“And did you think about it?” Ji-ah questioned, leaning in to hear your answer.

“I did.” You nodded with a laugh. “But, Namjoon isn’t known for his patience, and came to visit me in Busan instead.”

“Are you serious?” Ji-ah laughed alongside you. “He went all the way there just to see you again?”

“He really did. I thought he was out of his mind.” You joked, making the crowd laugh too. “But, in all honesty, it was maybe the most romantic gesture I’ve ever had, and it sealed the deal for a first real date.”

“Excuse me, Ms. Y/L/N, could you sign my book please? I’m a big fan.”

“Of course!” You said, not looking up at the man in front of the book signing table as you took his paperback copy. “Who can I make it out to?”

“Did you really forget me that quickly?”

You furrowed your brows and looked up, to see Namjoon standing at your table with a goofy, shy grin on his face, and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Your own smile grew and your eyes widened in surprise as you took him in.

“Oh my God, seriously? What are you doing here?” You laughed.

“I wanted you to sign my book.” Namjoon playfully answered. “I…um, I wanted to surprise you, too.”

“You really made a trip down here, and stood in line to surprise me? It definitely worked, I’m surprised.” You giggled. “And… you have flowers?”

“For you.” He said, his nerves showing. “For um… It’s to congratulate you, on your book and everything.”

“Thank you.” You said softly, standing up to take the flowers. “I don’t know what to say, that’s so sweet of you.”

“We can chat in a minute?” He suggested. “I think I’ve taken up my time in line, some women behind me are getting upset.”

“Ok.” You giggled. “Let me sign your book though, you came all this way.”

Namjoon watched with complete adoration in his brown eyes as you scribbled a note onto the page of the book.

“I’ll meet you in a little bit, ok?”

“Ok.” He nodded, and walked to the side of the bookstore to look at your note.

“To Joonie, the sweetest man I know. Love, Y/N.”

Namjoon grinned ear to ear like a schoolboy with a crush. He was nervous to come to Busan, worried that it was too much, and that you wouldn’t like the gesture. But with the validation little note and a soft laugh, he knew he did the right thing. He watched as you signed the books of the rest of the people in line, and listened to each of them compliment your work. You handled yourself so gracefully, he let his mind drift into places it rarely goes with anyone. Could he let you into his world? The public, the paparazzi… Could you handle it? He can only protect you from so much, with so many things out of his control. It was a long way to that point, but he thought just maybe, you would be the right one for him.

When you were finished, you went over to him with a wave, just as you had the night of your dinner together.

“What did you want to chat about?” You asked with a sweet tone.

“I know this might be a lot but,” He paused, looking into your eyes as you looked up at him. “I’d really like to take you out. If you want to.”

Your smile slowly creeped on your face, and blush painted the apples of your cheeks.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I’d like that.”

“So yeah, I went out with him.” You smiled, recalling the story. “That first date turned into the two of us going out every night that I was in Busan. We would just meet at places in the city, and spend as much time together as we could.”

“That’s so cute.” Ji-ah cooed. “I still can’t get over that he went all that way just to see you.”

“Me either.” You laughed. “But I’m thankful every day that he did.”

“So then, how did the two of you finally become a couple?” Ji-ah asked. “You’re running around Busan together, having fun, getting to know each other… and then what?”

“Well…” You said, blushing brightly at the memories of that night.

“I think you’ll love this wine.” Namjoon smiled, walking over to you with a bottle in hand while you sat on the sofa. His hotel suite was more like an apartment, with a spacious living room. He asked you to stay over for the night, after you extended your business trip into a personal vacation, just to stay with Namjoon. You knew it would sound crazy to your friends back home, but being with him just felt right to you. It came so naturally.

“Yeah?” You answered, watching him sit down next to you and pour a glass. “I really love white wines like this.”

“I know.” He smiled. Namjoon knew so much about you now. Your favorite foods and drinks, the books you liked and the ones you didn’t. He knew details about your family, and the funny stories of your friends. He told you about himself, too, opening up in a way that usually never comes easy to him outside of his music.

You snuggled into him with a throw blanket tossed across your legs. Namjoon rested his arm on the back of the couch, allowing you easier access to rest on his shoulder. He smiled when you did, and when you looked up at him, he gave you a soft, slow kiss on the lips.

You had only kissed Namjoon a couple of times. Your first kiss was at the end of your first date, when he walked you back to your room, and asked permission before moving in a little closer. Ever since, he’s stolen kisses from you whenever he could. He was obsessed with your lips, and how he felt connecting them to his own. His heart raced, and every part of him was begging to get closer.

“Joonie…” You hummed into the kiss. “I’m happy I’m here tonight.”

“Me too.” He smiled, deepening the kiss. You gently placed your wine glass down on the coffee table in front of you, so that you could rest your hands on his strong chest, over the soft fabric of his sweatshirt. Namjoon reacted to the touch by placing his own hands on your waist, daring to hold you where your shirt raised up just enough where he could directly feel your skin.

The kiss never broke. But you found yourself growing braver, moving in closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him position you onto his lap to straddle him. You had never felt so close to him, and both of your bodies were pleading for more…more…more…

“Y/N,” He murmured in the kiss. “I hope you know, I’m not expecting anything tonight.”

“I know.” You said, kissing him again. “But, do you want to?”

“I do.” He whispered onto your lips. “But only if you’re ready for it. We don’t have to rush.”

“But I want to.” You whispered back. “I want you. So, why wait?”

Namjoon responded with a deep breath for his nerves, followed by a passionate kiss. Deeper and stronger than the ones you’ve felt him give you before. He lifted you off the couch, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist as your arms stayed draped around his shoulders. He carried you through the hotel room, into the bedroom, where he laid you down delicately.

He stared down at you, smiling up at him from the bed. Namjoon quickly tossed his sweatshirt off and onto the floor, revealing his toned body, before helping you out of your own shirt. He swooped down and began kissing down your neck and onto the top of your breasts, his large hands cupped them through your bra. “Can I see a little more of you, honey?”

“Please.” You answered. Namjoon wasted no time unhooking the back of your bra as you raised yourself for him to do so, and pulled the straps from your arms to show your chest. Before you had time to react, Namjoon’s lips were back on your body, licking and kissing your soft breasts, excited to have them to himself.

“Baby, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He whispered, in between taking a perky nipple in between his lips. “So… Fucking… Beautiful…”

“Joonie.” You whimpered. His trail of wet kisses moved down your stomach, until he reached the cotton fabric of your lounge shorts.

“Can I?” He asked, a finger impatiently on the waistband. You nodded and hummed a ‘mhm’ in consent, lifting your hips to help him reveal just your panties.

“You’re already so wet for me, honey.” He teased, showing his dimples. Namjoon kissed up your thighs, building anticipation with each soft, wet, slow kiss to your skin. You whined, needing him at your core. He wrapped a strong arm around each thigh, keeping you held down for him. “A little wet mark on your pretty panties, and I’ve barely done anything.”

“Please.” You whined, and Namjoon pushed the wet fabric to the side, locking eyes with you as he slowly began applying long licks to your opening, before adding pressure and quickening movements of his tongue. You threw your head back onto the bed and let out a gasp, responding to the expert flicks of his tongue by grabbing onto the dark locks of his hair.

“Joonie… Joonie… Please, baby…”

He slipped a finger into your opening, breeching you for the first time, as his tongue focused on your clit. Namjoon felt your legs shake, encouraging him to add another finger, listening to the pretty noises leaving your lips. His own length was hard and pressed against the fabric of his sweatpants, aching to be released, but he ignored his own needs. This was about you; the way you gripped the sheets, chanted his name, and tasted so, incredibly sweet. The way you squeezed your eyes shut so tightly when his fingers massaged the places you needed him most, and the way you held his head in place as he gave your sensitive bud loving rolls of his tongue. Namjoon could both feel and hear your orgasm; the heaviness of your breath, the tightening of your opening, the way you dripped on his tongue.

“That’s my girl.” He praised, nibbling your still trembling legs. He slowly pulled out his long fingers, making you shudder.

You watched as he stood up to remove his own pants, but before he was able to, you rolled on your tummy to be eye-level with his erection, looking up at his face innocently. Your hands were already at his waistband.

“Honey, you don’t have to.”

“But I told you, Joonie. I want you.” You responded, slowly helping him lower his pants, letting them fall to his ankles, followed by his underwear. He kicked them to the side, watching with anticipation as your lips were level with his length.

You started slow, just content to tease him, and to really feel the size of him. He was large, and you knew he’d fill you well. You began to kiss his sensitive, leaking head, tasting the drops on your tongue. Your lips pressed to him, working a trail down the shaft, then back up again. Namjoon’s large hand was now on your head, not forcing, but gently encouraging you to touch him. His breath was heavy, deep inhales and exhales that were audible as he grew more aroused with how you seemingly worshipped his cock. You looked up at him as you took your time working him into your mouth, your tongue caressing his most sensitive areas.

“Babygirl… Fuck…” Namjoon’s deep voice groaned, and his hand guiding your movements. A steady back and forth, with your fingers wrapped around his balls, giving him just enough pressure to be pleasurable. “Just like that, baby… Can you go a little further for me?… Good girl.”

Namjoon had never felt so turned on by a woman before. The way you made eye contact with him, and enthusiastically worked to please him the way that he had you, made him feel so wanted and equally aroused. His eyes flickered back and forth from your lips, watching the way his cock disappeared and reappeared, wet and throbbing, to then looking at your curves. Naked on the bed, he could see the dip of your waist, your hips and soft skin of your bottom. Every inch of you, he wanted to kiss. As he let his thoughts drift, he could feel himself go closer to the edge.

“Wait, hold on honey.” He stopped you.“You’re gonna make me cum, baby.”

Namjoon leaned down and gave you a quick kiss before finally meeting you on the bed. He laid down, resting his head on the pillow, and letting you straddle him and touch your lips to his. You could feel his cock pushing up against your opening, and Namjoon sighed feeling your skin on his.

Keeping your lips close to his, but not quite touching, creating a heavy tension, you gently slid his tip into you, causing both of you to let out a quiet noise at the feeling. You sank down on him, working yourself to his length, and Namjoon held your hips, allowing you to take control and be comfortable. You felt so full, every inch of him filling you perfectly. It was as though your body was made just for him to touch, taste and fuck.

“Fuck, Y/N…” He breathed out. You raised yourself up, and began moving on his length, switching from bouncing to grinding. Namjoon kept one hand on your hip, and place another between your thighs to touch your clit.

“Joonie… Oh my God, Joonie… Don’t fucking stop.” You whined loudly, throwing your head back. Your hands rested on his chest to keep yourself steady, but you were coming undone again. Your pace quickened as you unraveled, your hips snapping fast as his cock reached right where you needed him most. As sensitive as you were, you both knew it wouldn’t take long for you to hit another high.

“Cum for me, angel.” Namjoon’s deep voice dripped with arousal. “I’ve got you, baby. Just let go.”

Your eyes shut tightly and your lips parted in pleasure, and Namjoon throbbed as you came again. He watched as your breasts bounced with every movement, and took in the feeling of your soft skin on his. As soon as you came down, he gently wrapped you in his arms, and laid you down on the bed, knowing you were almost at your limit.

“Wanna love you just like this.” He whispered, kissing your neck as he took his place on top, resting in between your legs. His tip brushing against your entrance. “Are you too sensitive, honey? Can you take a little more?”

“I can take it.” You whispered back, smiling as he continued painting your neck with kisses.

“That’s my pretty girl.” He praised, sliding himself into you gently, listening for noises of discomfort. But none came, and as he bottomed out into you, he groaned and tucked his face into your neck to mark your skin and whisper in your ear. “Your pussy’s so good, babygirl. So fucking beautiful… so tight and wet just for me, aren’t you?”

Namjoon learned that night that your neck was particularly sensitive, and you loved being kissed there. As he thrusted into you, he littered your skin with nibbles, licks, kisses and love marks. Each deep, hard hit and mark on your skin was proof that he felt something for you. Was it love? Not quite…at least, not yet. But he was falling, and he was prepared to make love to you throughout the night if that’s what it took to make you understand. You were meant to be his, that much was sure. The way you held him, kissed him, touched him, spoke to him, pleasured him was everything he’s ever wanted in a partner and a lover.

“So close, angel.” His voice said softly, giving you a gentle kiss.

“Cum inside me.” You whispered against his lips, deepening the kiss. “Fill me up, Joonie. Don’t fucking stop, want you to cum deep-”

“Oh… Oh…” He groaned, his length throbbing against your walls. “Y/N…. Y/N, baby…. OH, FUCK… I… Ah…”

You held his body close to yours as he buried his face in your neck, coming down from his high. His tanned skin was sweaty, his heart pounding and his breath heavy, as was yours. Namjoon couldn’t remember the last time, or any time, he had made love that intensely to anyone. He couldn’t remember any time he had chanted a woman’s name, or felt so desired, or was held so lovingly. It was beyond sex; it was intimacy.

Afterwards, laying next to you, he pulled you in and the two of you drifted off to sleep as he held you in his arms, as though protective over you. As if, if he were to let go, you’d slip away. So he kept you close, and kept you safe.

The next morning, sunlight peeked through the drawn curtains of the bedroom, illuminating everything in warmth. Namjoon had woken up before you, choosing to hold you as you slept, playing gently with your hair and occasionally caressing your bare back as you rested on his chest. Namjoon realized he could easily wake up like this, nude under the covers with you in his arms, forever.

After a little while, your eyelids fluttered awake. Namjoon pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, and snuggled you closer.

“Hi.” He whispered delicately. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing.” You replied in a hushed tone, still coming out of sleep. “Last night was… yeah.”

“Yeah.” He smiled, his hand absentmindedly tracing your skin. “I’m really happy right now. With you.”

“I’m happy with you too.”

You looked up at him, still resting on his chest. Namjoon raised a hand to your face, running a thumb along the outline of your jaw, appreciating how lucky he felt in that moment. Your hair was tousled, you wore no clothes or makeup, and this was the most beautiful he had ever seen you; well rested and happy, after a night of love making.

“Be with me.” He whispered, the words leaving his lips before he could catch them.

“Be with you?” You repeated with sparkling eyes, making sure you heard his request correctly.

“Yeah.” He confirmed. “I think we should be together. What do you think?”

“Yeah.” You smiled. “I think so, too.”

Namjoon smiled wide, showing his dimples that you’ve grown to adore so much. He sealed the deal with a soft kiss, hoping it was the first of many together.

“…So, I spent some time at his hotel, and when we woke up the next morning, we just knew.” You explained, not giving too much information about what happened behind closed doors that night.

“You just knew.” Ji-ah smiled, clearly giddy with the fairytale love story.

After the interview ended, and the audience had dispersed, the only person waiting for you was Namjoon. He stood in the empty auditorium by the stage where you had spoken just minutes ago, waiting to take you back home.

“You ready?” You asked, making your way to him.

“Yeah.” He replied. Namjoon’s eyes were sparkling and warm, filled to the brim with love for you. “Come here.”

“What?” You smiled, before giggling as he picked you up and gently sat you down on the edge of the stage, where he could stand between your legs and look up at you. “Why’d you do that, Joonie?” You laughed.

“I just wanted to look at you.” He said softly. You blushed under his adoring gaze.

Namjoon had been in the audience tonight. It was your first event after the publishing of your most recent book, a essay collection on falling in love. It revealed your relationship to Namjoon to the world, after several years of dating in private. When he proposed to you one night in total surprise, during a private dinner party with all of your friends and his in attendance, that was when you both decided to go public; when you knew for sure that you both were in love for the long haul.

Listening to you publicly describe the beginnings of your relationship, brought a flood of memories back to his mind. He wouldn’t change anything, and he was so thankful that somehow, he managed to have you for himself. He felt like he wanted to say a million things, but only one sentence seemed to come out.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Joonie.” You replied, meeting him halfway to kiss his lips.

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perfectlyoongi · 5 months ago

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HUSBAND!NAMJOON who writes you a song as a marriage proposal. as intelligent as Namjoon could be, when he was nervous it was difficult for him to express himself verbally and he knew perfectly well that in that request he would run over every word and choke on them; that's why Namjoon decided to open his soul in the most natural way for him: the song was small, brief, just a verse and a chorus, but every word was beautiful, peppered with the love he felt, ringing with a melody of hope from an eternal future by your side. “i’m not very good with words, i hope the song is enough for you.”

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who hires a painter to portray your special day. yes, photographs were beautiful, faster, saving every moment and action they could; but, for Namjoon, there was magic on a canvas, in how each brushstroke was like a fragment of your dreams and hopes, the vivid colors complementing each other and appearing as an omen for your married life. “i think a portrait of us is more intimate. i think it’s with oil paints that you can clearly see our love and happiness.”

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who writes your initials in the corners of his music sheets. Namjoon felt like it was nonsense, a small, insignificant and quite embarrassing detail, but, in a way, he couldn't stop himself from doing it; like a lucky charm, your initials decorated the various pages with a touch of magic, as if the letters designated for you blessed Namjoon's mind and all his work. “i know it doesn't make much sense, but i feel like it really helps me. at least it always gives me strength when i see your initials in my art.”

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who gives you a bouquet of flowers every monday, even when he's on tour. Namjoon wanted to make sure you had a good week, he wanted to motivate you to get through five more days of intense work and complex people; so, he came up with a simple solution that, in addition to filling your living room with sweet smells of passion and longing, also brought with it bright colors that painted the gray days that could lie ahead. “i hope you have a good day today. don't forget that the world only makes sense because you are in it. i love you.”

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who goes on sunset walks with you. if when you were dating the two of you shared the sunrise on a bicycle, now in your marriage your attention has turned to the sunset, as if a natural representation of your love — at sunrise your love was still blooming, but now, already together with promises and vows of eternity, your love was based on a sea of reds and oranges that forever warmed your hearts. “i feel so complete with you. i still can't believe we're actually married. you just make my life better.”

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who takes you on surprise dates. it wasn't because you were married that Namjoon was going to stop dating you; without telling you, or simply spontaneously, Namjoon would take you to dinners or aquarium, ceramics classes or evening picnics, the possibilities seemed endless and Namjoon swore to you that he would explore each one of them with you. “just because we’re married doesn’t mean the romance is over. i hope you know that i will take you on dates even if we are eighty and use canes.”

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who swore an eternity of love for you. in any adversity, Namjoon promised you that your love would not weaken; in any opportunity, Namjoon promised you that your love would only grow; in any future, Namjoon promised you that your love would never end, for you were chosen by the stars, blessed by the gods — there was nothing that could ruin your love. “the dust of the universe are crumbs of our love that could not fit into our hearts in this life.”

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tsukisrants · 1 year ago

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The Babysitter - Kim Namjoon

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.240

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Age Gap (Reader is 18 and Nam is 27), Babysitter!Namjoon, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Spit kink, Verbal humiliation, Degradation, Praise, Choking, Face-Slapping, Hair-Pulling, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Spanking, Slight Breeding Kink, Creampie.

Snippet: “Little girl isn’t so little anymore, huh?” he says, smirking as he gets closer to you.

-smut under the cut-

"This is so ridiculous," you mutter.

As you tidy up the room, folding the clothes that have been piled up for days, you repeat to yourself that all of this doesn't make sense.

You're not a child anymore, and it's not fair for your parents to continue treating you as if you were one.

A babysitter.

As if you were still eight years old.

You sigh heavily, running a hand through your hair.

You move it away from your face and turn to look at yourself in the mirror.

You're an adult now.

But your parents don't seem to truly realize that.

They'll be away for the weekend and they don't trust leaving you alone at home completely.

You, who were looking forward to enjoying some time for yourself, find yourself having to succumb to their paranoia and let this little dream of peace be swept away by the arrival of this damn babysitter.

"He's not a real babysitter, Y/N. It's just Namjoon, that dear boy, doing us a favor and keeping you company. Stop acting spoiled," you hear your mother's voice repeating incessantly, like an unstoppable litany that accompanies you with every step you take inside your room.

Namjoon.

You haven't seen him in a long time now.

A few years older than you, he earned some pocket money helping your parents with household chores and being your babysitter.

When you were eight, and he was seventeen.

But now?

Now you're eighteen, and he's twenty-seven.

It even surprises you that he agreed.

He came back to town for some reason unknown to you, and your parents immediately roped him in (although your mother keeps insisting that he volunteered).

Just the idea of seeing him again terrifies you, embarrasses you.

He was your first crush, the one you hid behind walls to watch him do chores, the one who made you blush to the point where you could feel the skin on your cheeks burning.

You were truly pathetic, following him around like a lost little puppy.

But you were just a little girl at the time.

Now, you are not anymore.

So, as you change for the evening, you curse your parents and their stupid trip and their stupid fears.

You put on a pair of shorts and a hoodie and, with an expression of pure disdain, you leave your room, determined to hide there soon enough.

As you descend the stairs, you hear voices echoing through the house.

Absentmindedly, you adjust your glasses, and immediately feel a shiver run through your body when, among two familiar voices, you hear a very different one: deep and raspy.

It must be Namjoon.

You take a deep breath, then enter the living room.

He’s there.

The three of them, immersed in conversation, don't realize you finally left your room and joined them.

You take advantage of these moments in which they still haven’t noticed you to look at Namjoon as best you can.

He's a man now.

Far from the boy you remember.

He's tall, imposing.

Beautiful.

Incredibly beautiful, breathtakingly so.

So beautiful it hurts.

Disheveled hair, powerful hands, and broad shoulders.

Just looking at him, you feel small.

Lost in admiration, you don't realize that your parents have stopped talking to him and that all the three of them are now looking at you.

You blush under their gaze.

Under Namjoon's burning gaze.

He looks at you from head to toe with an expression you can't decipher, and you nod a greeting, moving your head and attempting a smile.

When Namjoon returns your smile, for a brief moment you feel like you've returned to being that little girl who timidly asked her big brother (because that's what you were used to calling him) to help with homework, or to pick you up and carry you from one room to another when you pretended to be too tired from school to do it yourself.

He spoiled you like never before, and you're not sure if you can find traces of that sweet and sensitive boy on his face anymore.

You’re not sure you mind.

As you two go on with what seems to be your own little staring contest, your parents leave the room to go get their bags and eventually leave.

You stand in front of him, unsure of what to do or say.

He beats you to it, and his voice makes you squirm on your feet.

“Little girl isn’t so little anymore, huh?” he says, smirking as he gets closer to you.

His words embarrass you, and once again you feel your cheeks burning.

One of his hands finds its place in your hair, tousling it just like he used to do when you were a child.

"Namjoon!" you exclaim, slapping his hand away.

He tilts his head to the side, a mocking expression on his face.

"Y/N!" he responds, mimicking you.

Then, he bursts into laughter. The thunderous sound caresses your body, and without even realizing it, you find yourself laughing along with him.

"You're not a kid anymore either," you let slip.

In response, his smirk intensifies, and you roll your eyes.

Namjoon is about to reply or retort, but your parents interrupt him before he can do so.

Your mom approaches you and hugs you, and you find yourself reminding her once again that she's not leaving the country to go to war, but for a love escape with your father. She silences you, and while your father chuckles and says goodbye to Namjoon, she shows all her concern and bids you farewell with another never ending list of recommendations.

When your parents finally leave the house, you release a sigh that you didn't know you were holding back.

You enjoy the peace that echoes in the house, but it doesn't last long: when you turn around, you are greeted by the sight of Namjoon sitting with his legs spread wide open on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

You remain still for a moment, feeling insignificant in front of the scene before your eyes.

Namjoon doesn't pay attention to you, too busy fiddling with his phone. That is until he moves his head to push his hair away from his face and meets your gaze.

"I'm ordering something to eat, kiddo. What do you prefer?" Namjoon asks, tapping the couch with his hand to signal you to come sit next to him.

You struggle to find an answer at first. Then, mumbling some excuses, you approach him.

"I'm not a kid," you reply, before letting yourself fall onto the couch, keeping a few inches of space between your bodies.

Namjoon simply raises an eyebrow and nods in response. It's not convincing at all, and you huff, exasperated.

Adjusting your sweatshirt and pulling its edges to cover your legs as much as possible, you think about his question. Eating now seems impossible to you. Your stomach is in turmoil because of him, and you hate yourself for it.

You thought you had grown up, but now it doesn't seem that way anymore. Not with him so close. Namjoon makes you feel small and helpless just by being close to you.

And your mind starts to wonder how smaller you’d feel with him towering over you.

You shake your head and push that thought away, shivers running down your spine just from thinking about him touching you.

"Pizza. Pizza will be good," you mutter, while also scrolling through your phone to try to distract yourself, at least a little.

Namjoon nods and orders for both of you.

You're grateful that the search for food has kept you somewhat occupied.

Namjoon is now looking at you.

You can't read his expression, but you only know that it weighs on your body.

As he looks at you, he tilts his head to the side, hinting at a smile.

You talk for a while: he tells you about his travels, his adventures around the world.

You get lost in listening to him, and between one story and another, there are jokes and small provocations.

But at the same time, lost in the conversation as you are, you feel time stand still: or rather, go back.

When it's your turn to speak, you regain the enthusiasm you had when you were just a child, and his eyes don't miss a single movement of yours.

You swim in the pleasure of having all the attention on you, for you.

"You've grown up well, little princess," he murmurs after a while, and Namjoon messes up your hair again.

You roll your eyes, sighing heavily.

"Stop it, I told you! I'm not eight years old anymore, you know?" you retort, and you almost stand up to stomp your feet on the ground out of frustration.

Namjoon chuckles before running his tongue over his soft lips.

"Believe me, Y/N, I've noticed," he murmurs, as his eyes roam your body from head to toe, caressing your skin.

You blush, and feel a warmth starting to build in your lower abdomen.

"But that doesn't mean you can't be my little princess, right? Like the old times, little one," Namjoon says, and his eyes start to darken, his gaze becoming more intense.

You watch him discreetly adjust his pants, and your eyes widen at the thought of what that might mean.

Is he... getting turned on by this? Are you turning him on?

But it can't be, not while he's talking to you like this.

Yet, the scene in front of you seems clear enough.

You don't dare to do much, but you allow yourself to dream, to hope.

You hope he might want you the same way you seem to be dreaming of him.

You try to argue back, to find a way to respond to him, but you are interrupted by the doorbell ringing, snapping both of you out of your thoughts.

As you go to stand up and answer the door to the delivery person, you are stopped by Namjoon.

His hand grabs your wrist, squeezing it tightly. He holds you in place, standing in front of him.

His hand is so big that it completely immobilizes your wrist, wrapping around every inch of it.

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head to the side, confused by his gesture.

"Where do you think you're going?" Namjoon growls.

"T-to open the door?" you respond, hesitantly.

"Not dressed like that, you're practically naked," he retorts, standing up himself.

Still holding your wrist tightly, Namjoon is in front of you: your head at the level of his chest.

"I'll open it. You go get some glasses. Come on, go," he adds, before letting go of your arm and passing by you, leaving you alone in the living room.

You hear him talking to the delivery guy, and you think back to the scene you just experienced.

Namjoon got jealous.

He acted out of jealousy, and although it would usually annoy you, you can't help but smile and feel gratified.

And maybe, a little excited too.

You hurry to do as he told you, driven by the desire to please him. You quickly move from the living room to the kitchen, grab two glasses and a couple of napkins, and return to the living room, placing everything on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Namjoon joins you shortly after with the pizza boxes in his hands.

"Well done. Some things never change, huh? You'll always be my good girl," Namjoon praises you, and you almost choke on your own saliva, coughing like an idiot.

He doesn't say anything, but you can't miss the satisfied expression on his face as he sees your reaction.

He places the boxes on the small table and then sits on the floor, on the carpet, motioning for you to do the same.

Of course, you comply.

Obediently, you do as he says and sit next to Namjoon.

He rewards you with a smile and a wink.

In order to escape the pressure of this whole scene, you dive into the pizza, taking a bite and keeping your gaze low on the cardboard in front of you.

For a while, you eat in silence, exchanging light chatter and simply enjoying each other's company.

Then, Namjoon clears his throat.

You've finished eating by now, and you remain seated on the carpet with the TV on to keep you company. You look up to understand what he wants, and he chuckles, leaving you even more perplexed.

"You've got something on your face," he murmurs, pointing to your face.

"Where?" you reply, alarmed, trying to hide your face behind your hands, embarrassed.

"I'll take care of it," Namjoon replies, slowly approaching you.

You startle, and try to shake your head to let him know that there's no need for him to bother, and that you can take care of it yourself.

But he doesn't accept objections.

"Let me do it, little one. I'm here for that, right? Namjoon is here to take care of you," he whispers, before grabbing your face with one hand and forcing you to look at him.

A faint hiss escapes your lips at his words, and you wonder why his tone and way of speaking have such an effect on you.

He rubs his thumb on your cheekbone before sliding it over the reddened skin of your face.

"There you go," Namjoon says, rubbing his thumb against the corner of your mouth.

At this point, you're not even sure if you really got dirty. You realize that you don't care at all.

Not if Namjoon has his hands on you.

"Be a good girl, Y/N, come on..."

You furrow your eyebrows, with your heart beating wildly.

You don't understand what he really wants, or maybe you don't want to understand.

"Open your mouth, baby. Clean up daddy's fingers," he urges, rubbing his thumb over your parted lips.

You gasp, and suddenly you feel unable to breathe properly. You can’t believe your ears, can’t believe that this is actually happening.

You can’t believe you like it so much.

You can’t believe it feels so fucking good.

“N-Namjoon-ie… I-I… what?” you mutter, confusion flooding your mind.

He shakes his head, his expression stern and disapproving of your choice of words.

“That’s not my name, is it? What do you call me, little one?” he asks, finally shoving his thumb past your lips, rubbing it down your tongue before sliding it out your mouth and smearing spit over your lips and chin.

You take a deep breath before finally giving in, arousal taking control of your body.

“D-daddy, please…” you stutter, shaking under his soft touch.

He curses under his breath, his tongue poking at his cheek before sliding across his lips, wetting them.

“Please what, Y/N? What does my princess want?”

Fuck if you know.

There’s not a single coherent thought in your mind right now, so you try to mumble out an answer of some sorts, only coming up with a few pleads and moans.

He huffs out a laugh, so condescending and mean in the sweetest way possible.

“W-want you to…to take care of me. Daddy, please, take care of your little girl, just- whatever you want.”

You are a little ashamed of the desperation with which you utter these words, but you can't stop yourself. Even the shame burning in your stomach is pleasurable: it arouses you to feel this way, desperate and pathetic for him.

And he likes it too, judging by his reaction. Judging by the curse he lets slip and the way his chest rises and falls quickly, his breath labored and out of control.

"Is that really what you want, sweetheart? Are you sure? Daddy wants to do bad things to you. All kind of dirty, nasty things to your tiny little body."

You nod. Trembling like a leaf, you move closer to him, needing to have him by your side. The warmth emanating from his body is comforting, and you feel desperate to have him touch you.

"Do whatever you want to me, I trust you. You've always taken care of me, always. I-I want you to take me. Make me take it, make it hurt, anything.”

Your words greatly gratify him, and are enough to make him snap definitively.

With one hand he grabs your neck, using his hold on you to bring you closer to his body.

Then, your lips collide.

The moment they touch, you will never forget it.

"Fuck, babygirl, you taste so sweet," he grunts against your mouth, his hand around your neck tightening until you gasp, out of breath, and moan against his lips.

Your hips move out of your control, trying somehow to meet with his.

“I’ll make it hurt, doll. Daddy will hurt you so good,” he says, and while he still is choking you, with the other hand he grabs your hair and pulls at it, forcing your head to follow his movements.

Your neck is exposed, and his mouth is on you almost immediately.

His tongue flows freely over your skin, his teeth scraping against your neck before sinking in, biting you hard.

It hurts, damn it.

So fucking painful, and you moan loudly, trembling uncontrollably on his legs.

He bites you, sucking on the skin of your neck. The undeniable mark that you belong to him to mark your skin.

He abandons your neck and, moving away from it, Namjoon takes a few seconds to admire his artwork. He smiles satisfied, before pushing two of his fingers against the bruise forming on your skin.

You flinch, gasping in pain that runs through your body.

"Thank me. Say thank you to your daddy for hurting you, come on. Show me how well you've grown, use your manners."

Your eyes roll back into your head for a moment, as you breathe heavily at his words.

Your panties become increasingly wet, your pussy throbbing and begging for mercy.

"T-Thank you, daddy. Thank you for hurting me, thank you..."

You’re fucking mess: there’s a drop of drool sliding down your swollen lips, your neck is exposed and your hair is all messy from when he pulled it.

“My pretty little slut, so well behaved. Daddy’s proud of you,” he says, before moving forwards to kiss your forehead.

You smile at his gesture, your hands finally moving to touch him: you grabs his shirt and hold it in your hands, keeping him close to you.

“So desperate, aren’t you?”

You nod, because there’s no point in denying the truth.

You truly are desperate for him, and you like it. He’ll take good care of you, you just know it.

"What do you say, little one, do you want dessert? You've been good, so if you want, daddy will let you take his cock in your mouth, what do you say?" he whispers, stroking your cheek with his thumb, before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

As soon as his words register in your mind, you find yourself begging him.

God, if you want it.

You want to feel it in your mouth, you want him to use you, you want to make him feel good, to make him enjoy it, to be good for him.

You want him to look at you with that look full of admiration, of desire.

You want his eyes always on you.

He smiles at your eagerness, before scooping you from your hips and forcing you to follow him near the couch.

He sits there, legs wide open.

You’re still on the floor, kneeling prettily between his spread thighs.

He grabs your hair and pushes you head down against his crotch, the gesture so harsh that you gasp against the fabric of his pants.

You feel his hard cock against your face, and you nuzzle on it, moaning loudly.

While you rub your cheeks and nose against his clothed cock, he closes his legs, squeezing your head between his powerful thighs.

It’s hard to breathe, but you manage.

“Just like that, little slut. Choke for me, smell my cock, fucking nuzzle on it.”

In contrast with his words and harsh behavior, he pets your hair like one would do to a pet, making you cry out.

“Daddy, want it in my mouth, please…”

He groans, before releasing your head from where it was being pushed down.

“Open up, stick your tongue out,” he orders as he unzips his pants, pulling his cock out of the confines of his black boxers. It’s so fucking thick, the tip wet and shining with pre-cum, veins popping as he slides his hand up and down his cock.

Tongue out, you let saliva slide down from it till falls down your chin and even down to the carpet.

He slaps his cock against your tongue, again and again.

He rubs the tip of it against your face, tracing it and smearing his juices over your skin, making your face all messy.

“You look so slutty, little one. My princess so full of cock. Can’t wait to fuck your pussy,” he moans as he pushes your head down, forcing you to lick his length from the tips and then downwards.

“Take daddy’s balls into your mouth, pretty girl. Choke on them,” Namjoon says, forcing your mouth to open up to suckle at them.

You do as he says, moaning helplessly and sucking on them, rubbing your tongue against the sensitive skin.

While you do that, Namjoon keeps touching himself, grunting and moaning loudly.

Then, he stops.

He quickly grabs his shirt and takes it off.

Now shirtless, he looks even hotter than before.

He takes his cock away from you, and you cry out your disagreement, whining and protesting softly.

Your words die on the tip of your tongue when his hand collides with your cheek.

He slaps you right on the face, making it turn to the side while you hiss in pain, tears filling up your eyes.

“Don’t you fucking dare act like a spoiled brat. You take what I give you, when I give it to you, do you understand?”

When you fail to answer him out loud, only nodding your agreement, he shakes his head, making a clicking sound with his tongue.

“Words, sweetheart. Do you understand?” Namjoon repeats, grabbing your chin harshly and turning your head to face him.

“Y-yes, daddy. I promise I’ll be good.”

Now it’s his turn to nod, before gently petting your cheek, right where he hit you a few moments before. You rub you cheek against his hand, almost purring.

“Sweet little kitten,” he whispers, before bending down and grabbing you by the hips, forcing you to stand up.

“Strip.” Namjoon orders, falling down against the couch, going back to touching himself as he watches you.

Slowly, you comply: you strip under his burning gaze until you stand there completely naked, squirming in your place and blushing. He moans at the sight of you, his hand moving faster as he teases one of his nipples with his hand for a while.

He’s so hot it hurts.

You feel the stickiness between your legs dripping down your thighs, and you rub them together to try and ease some of the pressure you’re feeling.

He notices, and motions at you to get closer, before sliding down the couch and getting comfortable.

“Sit on daddy’s face, doll.”

Your legs almost give out as you hear him utter those words.

You immediately comply, approaching him.

When he notices your hesitation, unsure of what to do, he smiles sweetly at you.

Then, he grabs you by the hips.

As if you weigh nothing, he lifts you up and helps you straddle his face.

It's embarrassing, and you blush deeply.

He moans beneath your body, biting the inside of your thigh.

You flinch, your hands immediately finding grip in his hair.

When his tongue finally meets your wet pussy, the moan that escapes you is almost pornographic.

Your body trembles, and he starts licking you as if you were the most delicious and succulent dessert in the world.

His tongue rubs against your skin, tasting you.

His nose rubs against your pulsating clitoris, and the sensations you feel don't compare to any past experiences.

Namjoon is completely ruining you.

Drops of your pleasure slide down his chin, and he licks your pussy with an unprecedented hunger.

He pushes his tongue inside your warm little hole, fucking you with it, sinking into you again and again.

You feel that, with one hand, he continues to pleasure himself.

With the other, however, he surprises you: he spanks you, hard.

The pain is enough to send you close to orgasm.

"More, p-please..." you whisper, lost in the immense pleasure he is giving you.

He obliges, spanking you again, with even more force. As he hits you, you start to feel your legs shake from where they're wrapped over his head, and you start to call out "daddy!" in a litany, trembling under the force of the pleasure you're feeling.

“C-can I cum? D-daddy! Daddy, please, l-let me cum, please, please…”

He grunts, fucking you even harder with his tongue.

His hands grip at the flesh of your ass so tight it hurts, so tight you know there’s gonna be marks of his touch all over your skin.

“Do it. Cum on daddy’s face, princess.”

You tremble uncontrollably, your body filled with waves of pleasure.

Namjoon fucks you with his tongue while you come for him, showing no mercy.

You pull his hair, using the grip you have on it to keep yourself anchored to reality.

In the end, your body gives in and, overstimulated, you collapse forward, hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

He drinks your juices, your warm juices.

He drinks your orgasm and licks away every trace, before slipping out from under your body and letting you fall onto the couch, your face pressed against the pillow and your naked body exposed.

"Now it's my turn, little one. Daddy is going to fuck this little pussy of yours, break it, rip it in a half," he warns you, kneeling on the couch and grabbing your hips, positioning you as he wants: face down, with your ass pulled up and exposed for him.

He grabs his cock and slaps it against you ass, before rubbing the tip of it against your wet folds, hissing in pleasure as they hug his cock, begging him to shove it inside.

“Hold your cheeks open for daddy, princess. I wanna watch as I destroy this puffy little pussy. Wanna ruin it, make it all sloppy with my cum.”

You moan and follow his orders, grabbing your cheeks and pulling them apart, exposing your holes to him and making your own pussy gape as it begs to be filled.

“Ruin me, daddy. I want you to fuck my pussy, please? Please, daddy? Mess me up, use me…”

He doesn’t make you repeat yourself.

Holding his cock at the base he guides it against your gaping hole before pushing inside.

He’s inside you in one deep and hard stroke. All the way inside of you, your pussy hugging his cock in a tight fit.

“Such a tight little pussy for me,” he praises you, watching closely as his dick opens you up.

Namjoon spits down on you, making it even wetter.

“F-feels so good, love your cock…” you moan, hips moving on their own to meet his strokes.

Namjoon fucks you hard and fast, his cock stretching you to your limit as he pounds into you restlessly, hard and fast.

It’s so fucking loud: you’re so wet that your juices are covering his cock, sliding down the length and balls, the sound of it so obscene and dirty.

"You're such a whore, little one. You really love getting fucked, don't you? My cock-hungry little slut, that's what you are. A pretty princess with her pussy wide open."

His words are sharp, accompanied by the relentless and merciless thrusts of his cock burying itself in you, enough to make you see stars.

You can't even ask for permission or warn him this time.

As soon as his fingers slip between your legs to tease your swollen and needy clitoris, you come for him, gripping his cock like a glove.

Caught in spasms, you feel your own drool dripping down your chin, and your eyes roll back.

You've never cum so hard in your entire life.

“You’re squeezing my cock so hard, baby. Making daddy feel so fucking good, good girl,” he praises you, bending down to leave a kiss on your head.

He fucks you through your orgasm, and now is his turn to chase his pleasure.

He uses your body.

His much bigger figure completely dwarf yours, and you feel helpless under him: he could do anything he wanted and you wouldn’t be able to stop him.

Not that you’d ever try to deny him anything, of course.

You’re his sweet little girl for a reason, after all.

“I-I’m gonna cum soon, love,” he grunts, sweat falling from his forehead as he slides his dick down your cunt.

“I-in me, daddy… Cum in me, breed my pussy.”

Namjoon starts to feel the pleasure take over his own body, and now he acts solely guided by his instincts.

Everything in his body is yelling at him to pump you full of cum, breed you and force you to take it all.

But before doing so, he slips out of your body, grabbing you by the hips and manhandling you with extreme ease, forcing you on your back with your legs wide open.

He gets between them and buries himself back inside your pussy, going back to fucking you.

“Want to watch your face as I dump my load in you, babygirl,” he says, and one of his hands find his rightful place by grabbing your neck.

Your mouth falls open, and he moves forward to spit in it.

When you immediately swallow, the lenses of your glasses wet with droplets of his spit, it’s a sight he cannot resist.

Forcing his cock deep inside your pussy, he stills.

Shaking uncontrollably, he cums.

“Take it. Fucking take my cum, every single drop in this slutty hole, fuck. Fuck, baby, you’re my little cum-dump, that’s what you are,” he moans, bending over to kiss you while he chokes you, hips still moving in tiny little movements as he tries to push his cum as deep as possible inside of your cunt, fucking it into you till he hasn’t emptied himself completely.

“T-thank you, daddy…” you whisper, a big, fucked out smile on your pretty face.

He smiles, too, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Thank you, too, my beautiful princess. You’ve been so good.”

You smile at the praise, hugging him tightly.

He buries his face against your neck, breathing heavily.

You rub his back, and you start to feel your eyes get heavy.

“Can we sleep like this? Want you inside.”

Namjoon nods, kissing your temple.

He shifts both your bodies until he’s on his back and you’re seated comfortably over his body, his softening cock still buried deep inside of you.

You smile, and slowly start to drift away. He watches you sleep for a while, before his eyes finally give out, too.

You sleep like that: tangled into each other.

After all, one is never too old to have a babysitter.

#kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x y/n #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #namjoon #rm #y/n #rm x reader #oneshot #bts fic #bts #bts x reader #bts rm #bts smut #namjoon smut

941 notes · View notes

citrustan · 2 months ago

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hello , can i request a drabble wherein oc finds out that their husband politician Namjoon is having an affair with his secretary? like, oc found Namjoon was cheating when oc was watching the news and there are photos of the affair and a recorder phone call of the affair wherein the secretary was talking bad about the oc and Namjoon was just chuckling. thank u in advance ❣️

aaaa i'm excited to write this one, thank you for sending it in!

all eyes on you (knj)

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: angst!! husband!namjoon x wife!reader, mayoral candidate!namjoon x housewife!reader. i imagine namjoon to be older than oc.

warnings: infidelity! oc will be trashed a little ok. you have been warned. the contents of this story quite literally replicate the anon's request. please don't read it if you find the topics offensive and/or unappealing. oh u guys r gonna hate me,,

The living room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the television in the background. You weren't really watching anything in particular--- just letting the flicker of images fill the empty silence around you.

You were perpetually tired.

Your mind wandered, lost in the routine of another evening spent waiting for your husband to return home from wherever he was.

It's not just this though. Namjoon had been distant lately, buried in meetings and late-night phone calls, but you had brushed it off as just part of his life as a politician.

This was the price of being married to a man like him, or so you'd tell yourself.

It was peak campaigning period. Namjoon was running for mayor. So it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to pull all-nighters.

Yet, you couldn't help but stay up for him anyway.

Unintentionally, you switch to a news channel.

Normally, you'd prefer to stay far away from anything to do with politics, as ironic as it sounds with you being married to such an ambitious politician. But, you yearned to feel closer to him, and the news channel his (and sometimes your) name(s) frequented on was the only way for you to satisfy this urge.

You sat on your luxurious yet cold, leather sofa and zoned out, staring into space.

And, oh, what a choice that was.

“Now in. Breaking news on mayoral candidate Mr. Kim Namjoon...”

Just like that, your attention snapped back to the screen when the news anchor mentioned your husband's name. Your heart skipped a beat or two.

In only a second, a thousand thoughts crossed your mind, hundreds of scenarios where he'd hurt himself, or been hurt, maybe his opponent backed out and he was pronounced mayor right this instant, maybe his opponent was hurt, or maybe he was advocating for yet another controversial decision.

Not even close.

What followed wasn’t about a new policy or a political scandal--- it was something way worse.

Photos. Of him. Your husband. Kim Namjoon. With her. His secretary. Bae Joohyun.

They weren’t just working. The pictures showed them at some dinner, leaning in close, laughing in a way that made your stomach churn.

They looked too comfortable, too familiar, as if this was second nature to them.

How cliché.

It felt like the ground beneath you had cracked wide open, eager to swallow you up and wipe every trace of your existence.

It felt like time had stopped. The air around you was stagnant. You couldn't hear anything but a high-pitched ringing in your ear; until what the channel displayed next.

The screen transitioned to a recorded phone call.

You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until you heard Joohyun's voice, dripping with smugness.

“I don’t know how she doesn’t see it. Honestly, it’s almost pathetic,” you hear the woman sneer. “She’s too busy playing the good housewife while you’re here with me. I mean, what does she even bring to the table? It's not like you don't have staff handling your home.”

You don't even have time to digest the attack on you because what came next completely shattered you.

Namjoon's laugh.

It wasn’t just a polite chuckle, not something he gave when uncomfortable. It was genuine, full of warmth--- the laugh you used to think was reserved just for you, not against you.

“She’s a bit clueless, isn’t she?” Your husband murmured, amusement clear in his voice.

The remote slipped from your hand and hit the ten thousand dollar carpet with a dull thud.

Your mind was racing, trying to make sense of it, but nothing could explain what you had just seen and heard. All you could think was a mix of 'Namjoon' 'he hates me' 'what went wrong?' 'how could he dare to do this?' 'Joohyun was so nice to me' and 'I want to lie down.'

The man you loved, and cherished, the man you trusted, had betrayed you. And worse, he had laughed at your expense, as if you were nothing more than a convenient joke?

You can't even begin to feel the humiliation of the news being broken to you by TV emission, because your husband's betrayal had struck you so hard, all your thoughts surrounded only him.

Yet another irony; the news of his betrayal was broken to you so publicly, yet you were so, so lonely.

You can feel your cheeks and ears heating. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you don't cry.

Not yet. You don't know why.

Instead, you continue to sit there, numb, as the rest of the world kept spinning around you.

The hours (two hours) blurred together as you sat in silence, staring at the news segment on repeat.

There was no new information. Just the commentators discussing your life. They had managed to dig into your and Namjoon's past. Then his secretary/mistress' as well.

Yeah, she had been promoted to 'Mr. Kim's mistress.'

They discussed, and agreed with Joohyun's take on you being a lousy wife to Namjoon. How Bae Joohyun is a better fit for him. Then another counter argument stating you were 'the perfect, submissive, wife material' for Namjoon.

They went into detail about Namjoon's past relationships, then moved on to scrutinizing every single interaction he had with a woman since your marriage being made public.

Then, they brought on more guest stars on the show to react to your husband's leaked voice recordings.

You felt hollow, with every heartbeat punctuated by that same mocking laugh playing in your head.

All your devices, phones, iPads, landlines, had been vibrating and ringing non-stop. You wonder if any of those are from Namjoon.

It wasn’t until the door clicked open and you heard Namjoon’s familiar, hurried footsteps that you finally snapped out of your daze. He was almost stomping the floor. Following close behind, you hear another unmistakable 'click-clack' of a pair of high heels.

Your husband stormed in, his tie slightly loosened, looking weary from another long day, along with his fucking secretary, who looks equally fatigued.

He tries to talk, “_____."

Instantly, you shoot him down, "Don't even." You stood up with false-fervour. Not wanting to hear from either of the traitors, you turn to rush to one of the guestrooms.

Before you turned, you caught Joohyun rolling her eyes, her lips pursed in annoyance.

The woman looked more irritated at being dragged into this mess than remorseful. That was the last straw.

You don't quite remember what happened next. You were suddenly so fired up. Your brows furrowed, and your tears had clouded your vision.

Without thinking, you grabbed the nearest thing--- your fluffy house slipper, and hurled it straight at the secretary’s head pulling a stupefying gasp out of your husband.

"What the fuck?!"

note: this hurt to write kinda until i made her throw a slipper at joohyuns head :( ofc this is also kinda raw and unedited bec (you know it) lazy.

do you guys want a follow-up?? perhaps a confrontation? you'll have to be vocal abt it if you do... so talk to me u clowns 😡

BTW i love bae joohyun, i just think she'd be a perfect villain for this story. smart, sexy, bitchy, and intimidating.

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gguk-n · 1 month ago

Text

Cinematic Sparks (Kim Namjoon x Lewis Hamilton's sister!Reader)

Face claim- India Armateifio. Pictures from Pinterest

Series Masterlist

y/nhamilton

Liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1 and 234,987 others Tagged lewishamilton

y/nhamilton A weekend well spent😌😌

mercedesamgf1 you should spend more weekends with us🥹🥹 user1 the hamilton's have great genes❤️❤️ user2 so pretty!!😍😍 user3 the first picture😍😍 user4 how is she so pretty even without make up??😩😩 lewishamilton stop telling dad I don't take you places😤😤 y/nhamilton lewishamilton never bc its the truth😡 lewishamilton y/nhamilton that's why I don't take you anywhere🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️

y/nhamilton

Liked by lewishamilton, nicorosberg and 147,927 others Tagged lewishamilton

y/nhamilton I coquettified him!!🎀🎀

lewishamilton take that picture down😡 y/nhamilton NO🫢 nicorosberg that's why you're my favourite Hamilton ❤️❤️Liked by the Author mercedesamgf1 why didn't we think of that?🤔 user5 I want a brother like Lewis🥲 user6 Lewis I get you ma brother, my sisters crazy just like yours😥 user7 she looks so perfect doing anything😫😫 user8 we love you Y/N. Never change for this industry🤣🤣 user9 user8 what industry? f1? user8 user9 she's an actor, she starred in a lot of movies and shows😀

y/nhamilton

Liked by lewishamilton and 1,287,298 others

y/nhamilton Exhausted from all the promo but I hope you guys will enjoy seeing me in the new Netflix original

user10 I just watched it and I love it❤️❤️ user11 effortlessly pretty😍😍 user12 her interviews are riveting😘 user13 her chemistry with her co-stars is unbelievable🫢🫢

y/nhamilton

Liked by 278,029 others

y/nhamilton Rejuvenating my soul in Seoul

user14 OMG!! YOU LOOK SO GOOD IN A HANBOK❤️❤️ user15 That caption is bomb 😩😩 user16 I ran into her the other day and she was the nicest person and we took pictures and even gave her autograph🥹🥹 y/friend/user best girls trip everrrr🥹🥹 y/bff/user wanna go back!!!❤️‍🩹🥲

y/nhamilton followed rkive

gossippage

Liked by 1,287, 298 others

gossippage Dispatch Korea released pictures of a couple saying they are Y/N Hamilton and RM of BTS. The outlet says that they were spotted a couple times spanning months going in and out of RM's Hannam-dong apartment. The couple or their agency are yet to confirm anything

user17 obviously namjoon pulled her, I mean look at her😩 user18 you can't even see their face, it's utter bs😤😤 user19 they are grown adults, if they date then they date user20 I hope it's true, I wanna see Namjoon at races🥹 user21 it's funny how 7 time world champion's sister's dating some one who cannot drive🤣🤣 user22 I think it's true, RM just followed her🥲🥲

rkive followed y/nhamilton

y/nhamilton

Liked by rkive, lewishamilton and 2,456,973 others Tagged rkive

y/nhamilton All the time I spent with you was the best. I'll be looking out of the window wistfully waiting for my husband to return from the war😭

rkive I'll be back soon❤️ lewishamilton what do you mean husband?? 😡😡 georgerussell63 incase any one was wondering, Lewis is pacing the mercedes hospitality like a mad man nicorosberg he's a gent, we love him❤️ sebastianvettel he's so much better than the other guys you've brought home❤️ lewishamilton sebastianvettel there were others???🥲😤 y/nhamilton lewishamilton you act like I am 5😫😫 user23 y/n and namjoon dating was not on my 2023 bingo🫢🫢 user24 the boyfriend namjoon pictures are killing me😭😭 user25 she's us, waiting for our husbands*cough*JungKook*cough* user26 love the Hamilton siblings😂😂

rkive

Liked by y/nhamilton, uarmyhope and 2,370,290 others Tagged y/nhamilton

rkive My favourite person to take to museums

y/nhamilton I'm the only person you take to museums🤔 rkive y/nhamilton bc that's the only time you shut up😌 y/nhamilton rkive 😤😡 user27 he really said f u to the company, I do what I want😂😂 user28 this couple was made for us😭😭 user29 I'm living vicariously through them😭😭 user30 cutest couple ever❤️🥹 user31 ewww you ruined your feed for her🙃🙃 urarmyhope ❤️

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hueseok · 24 days ago

Text

( 01. ) EASY MONEY, EASY LOVE.

you and namjoon have been married for five years.

pairing: namjoon x reader

word count: 3.3k

rating: NC-17

warning/s: swearing, mentions of a sickness, mommy issues, unsupportive family, depictions of loneliness / sadness, character death (no major characters though!), mentions of falling of a cliff bc of clumsiness lmao (nobody dies dw)

[ chaptex index. ]

EPISODE 01. the one with the emergency !

you shouldn’t have been too confident. if only you’ve been more humble and less greedy during your hike earlier with your workmates for the bi-annual team building event, you wouldn’t have literally fallen off the side of the cliff and ended up spraining your ankle pretty bad.

what were you thinking, honestly? you’ve never been an active person ever in your life. you hated cardio, you hated sweating, you hated waking up early in the morning to do exercise—yet for some reason, you were pumped for the activity that was scheduled for today. it’s the reason why as you were trudging along the trail with your co-workers, yapping and laughing loudly with a close colleague, you didn’t notice that a particularly huge rock on your way set you off balance and caused you to sway to your right, plummeting over the ridge with a loud yelp.

it’s a good thing that there were paramedics stationed at the base of the mountain where all of you were trekking on, perhaps anticipating for an incident like yours to come along that’ll have them doing their duty. as soon as your team leader used the walkie-talkie given to your group to call them for their help, there were four people with bright orange uniforms aiding you, checking your condition and placing you on a stretcher before carrying you to the monorail where you’ll be transported back down.

haein, your said close colleague, accompanied you as they brought you to the infirmary.

“were you possessed by an athletic ghost?” she asks once the doctor finished treating your sprained ankle, now advising you to get a bit of rest. “what made you think it was smart to walk too fast? you must have been crazy.”

“i must have,” you say, laughing because you rather laugh than complain about the pain that you’re feeling. it’s subsiding at the moment, thankfully, but you can only imagine what the next few days are going to be for you due to the injury. “god, i’m happy though that i didn’t get to roll all the way. if that happened, i would have suffered a greater fall and then i’d be on the news.”

“yeah. you’d be a legend to the company too. we’d make an altar in your cubicle for a good few months.”

“i’d be the story that hiking guides would share to the hikers to scare them into being careful.”

“we’d pay tribute to you at every christmas party. we’d make a slideshow and present that during the whole event.”

“really?”

“of course. i’d be in charge of making the powerpoint even.”

you stare at her, haein staring back, and then the both of you burst out laughing. you’re grateful that she volunteered to be with you when the paramedics declared that they needed to bring you down—although in the back of your head, you do think she’s just being a good friend as an excuse to not walk her way back to the ground with the rest later on after they reach the top and enjoy the magnificent view.

“by the way,” she takes a seat on the chair beside the bed you’re situated in, “someone named kim namjoon is going to pick you up and drive you home.”

the second his name tumbles out of her lips, you’re snapping your head towards her, shocked. “what?”

“when you passed out a bit after the fall, i got your phone and did the thing to make it call your emergency contact. he’s the one who answered.”

“namjoon answered?”

“yup.”

“but i… i don’t remember making him my emergency contact.”

“well, like i said, he’s the one who answered.” she shrugs. “why? is he an ex or something?”

you press your lips together, suddenly panicking at the thought of namjoon arriving here.

there’s nothing wrong with namjoon, really. he’s a pleasing person to have around: genuine, kind, and full of profound thoughts that you can’t help but hang onto every word he says. however, as haein made evident, no one knows about your relationship with him and true nature of it—and you’ve done everything you can in the past year and a half since joining the company to keep it that way, deeming it unnecessary to disclose the fact that kim namjoon is your husband when the both of you aren’t bound to stay married forever.

to you, he’s just a ridiculously rich man who needed to get married for at least five years in order to get the full amount of his inheritance from his grandmother.

to him, you’re just a middle class woman who needed money to pay for her sister’s leukemia treatments, introduced together by a mutual friend who knew that both of you can benefit from each other’s situations.

in other words, your marriage with him isn’t technically real. and it’s why you rather not let anyone in your workplace know that he’s your husband, especially since you’ve managed to keep a low profile about it all these months. you don’t want to give your officemates a reason to gossip about you in the present time or when you divorce namjoon—the latter frankly scheduled to happen in less than three months from now.

****

namjoon arrives an hour later.

you take notice of him immediately while haein’s babbling about the book she recently read, recognizing him as the tall man who enters the small clinic, going to the desk to talk to the staff waiting there. you watch as the latter points to where your bed is, namjoon promptly turning to your direction, your gazes meeting before his eyes focus on your sprained ankle, expression contorting in a mix of confusion and disappointment.

beside you, haein taps your arm, noticing namjoon’s arrival as well. “is that…?”

you swallow hard. “yeah, that’s him.”

“holy shit. he’s hot.”

“don’t—” you grit your teeth. “don’t say that. it’s weird.”

“why? i have eyes—i’m just saying what i see.”

“yeah, but—”

“are you weirded out because he’s a relative? like your brother?” haein cuts you. “wait, you mentioned before that you have a sibling. is that him?”

“he’s not a sibling.”

“then who—”

namjoon stops on the foot of your bed, causing haein to shut up now that he’s within earshot. he’s still staring at your ankle, like it inflated to twice its original size, and you actually don’t know what to say. although you’ve developed a close friendship over the years of this sham marriage, you always seem to restart whenever he returns from a business trip of his—and it’s only been a couple of days since his return to south korea, having just come back from spain for his latest project.

it’s worth mentioning too that you feel strange having an audience like haein around that renders you clueless on how to act.

he lets out a slow whistle, crossing his arms. “and you say i’m clumsy.”

you huff out a chuckle, namjoon grinning that releases the charm of his dimples.

“uh, i’m haein,” your friend stands up from her seat and extends a hand out, obviously enthralled by how handsome he is. “i’m the one who called you using ___’s phone. namjoon, isn’t it?”

namjoon shakes her hand. “oh, yes. it’s nice to meet you.”

“wow. you have a very tight grip.”

“haein,” you scold, slapping her wrist that causes their handshake to cease. if it isn’t apparent enough, haein doesn’t have a filter nor cares enough to stop saying the first thing that comes to her mind. “stop being weird.”

she turns to you. “i’m not being weird. i’m complimenting him.”

“how is commenting how tight his grip is a compliment?” you demand.

“it’s a compliment because i’m making it clear that i find him strong,” she explains, focusing on namjoon again. “sorry. do you feel offended by what i said?”

he appears amused. “not really.”

“see?” haein tells you.

you’re about to quip back a reply when she beats you to it.

“anyways,” she says and namjoon stifles a laugh, “if you don’t mind me asking, how are you and ____ related?”

at the question, you send him a signal with your eyes, asking him not to tell the truth, regardless if that’s wrong of you to do so. one of the things you had to keep in mind upon agreeing with this arrangement is that neither of you should ever deny the marriage whatsoever, a precautionary measure because you two were that paranoid that the news might reach namjoon’s parents.

from the looks of it, despite namjoon understanding where you’re getting at as you give him the most bizarre expressions, he does the opposite (perhaps mainly due to what was explained above), resulting into you hanging your head low, waiting how haein will react at the revelation that will be served on her plate.

“i’m her husband actually,” namjoon says casually.

haein cackles out loud. “husband?” she repeats. “that’s really funny—you’re a funny guy. but seriously, how do you two know each other?”

he raises an eyebrow. “i’m not joking.”

“sure you are, but this girl right here isn’t married.” she does a show of holding you in an affectionate headlock. “she doesn’t even have a boyfriend.”

“did she tell you that?” he’s teasing, glancing at you for some sort of confirmation.

haein averts her attention to you.

you look at them, switching from namjoon to haein to namjoon and back to haein.

“i mean…you never asked, and i never said i was single,” you tell haein, shrugging and acting as nonchalant as ever.

it’s half the truth, ‘cause as far as you’re concerned, you’ve been diligent in always wearing your wedding and engagement ring. you even make it a point not to appear interested in any offers of blind dates or group dates to ever imply that you’re single as well.

she gawks at you, like she’s waiting for you to take back what you said. “are you being for real right now?”

“i am.”

“if this is some elaborate prank—”

“it’s not a prank,” you say.

there’s silence, and then she practically screams.

“YOU’RE MARRIED?” haein bellows, attracting everybody’s attention inside the infirmary. “we’ve known each other for more than a year and only now do i discover that you’re married?”

before she can berate you and force you to tell her your entire relationship history, namjoon’s asking for your bag and helping you sit up, aiming to lead you to the car waiting outside. haein almost stops him, declaring with conviction that she literally can’t wait until the next office day to get the full scoop, but he kindly reiterates what the ER doctor he spoke with earlier said, insisting that he ought to bring you home as soon as possible so you can get the rest that you need after over exerting your body for today’s hike.

“everything. you need to tell me everything on monday,” she says when namjoon goes out for a minute to deliver your bag first to the vehicle. she’s giddy and jumpy and very hyper about what you can guess is because of her latest discovery. “also, i’m sorry about calling your husband hot earlier. i wouldn’t have done so if i knew.”

you grin, appreciating the fact that she felt the need to apologize for that. “it’s no biggie. you didn’t know.”

“yeah, which you really should apologize about.”

“i’m sorry.” your grin only stretches wider. “i’ll buy you a matcha latte on monday to make up for it.”

her face lights up.

you share your farewells as namjoon returns, namjoon saying goodbye to haein too. she leaves first, remembering that she needs to inform the rest of your co-workers that you’re fine and headed home, and once you and your husband are alone, he takes a good look at you again.

“should i carry you?” he asks.

you blink at him. he may be reliable, but he is also extremely clumsy. “you’re not asking the right questions, joon.”

“wow. you can really be cruel sometimes, you know?” he laughs. “then should i get a wheelchair?”

“no wheelchair please. i think i can walk to the car just fine.” you begin standing up.

“you sure?” he doesn’t even let you answer that, his hand just naturally goes to support your elbow. “you might fall.”

you pause, calculating how many steps it’s going to take until you reach your destination. you’re fine, really; your good foot is perfectly walkable and you’re convinced it can take the burden of not having its pair in ample condition. however, you might need to hold onto namjoon for you not to fall halfway like he already stated, and you’re not really keen on being that close to him no matter how amazing his cologne smells even a few inches away.

“a wheelchair would be ideal,” you say.

namjoon chuckles, nodding and getting it with the assistance of a staff member.

in minutes, you’re on the passenger seat and he’s climbing on the other side. you don’t expect it but you’re relieved at the thought of coming home earlier than planned. though you’ve conditioned yourself to enjoy this team building and take this time to get into camping, you were horrified when you learned that there wouldn’t be any shower rooms or portable toilets at least at the area that you’re heading at after the hike, this retreat meant to give each one of you the raw camping experience.

come to think of it, perhaps it was your subconscious that prompted you to inflict this accident on yourself in order to avoid shitting on the ground in case your stomach hurts.

“comfortable?” namjoon glances at you. “you can recline the chair if you want to sleep.”

“oh, okay. thanks.” you smile.

he smiles back, starting the engine. you subtly watch him while he does that, admiring how he seems so adept in driving now compared to when you first met him. you remember his reluctance in the past to drive due to his fear of messing up, yet he managed to drive for approximately two hours in most likely gravelly roads to get where you are.

“thanks too for coming here, joon. i hope i didn’t bother you. honestly, i don’t even remember putting you as my emergency contact,” you sheepishly add.

“no problem, and i think hoseok did,” he says. “i remember him mentioning that i should put you as mine before.”

hoseok is the mutual friend that introduced you both together when namjoon was still trying to find a fake wife to obtain the full amount of his inheritance in five years time. he was aware of namjoon’s ploy and knew that you were in need of money during that year as well—and so putting two and two together, he set up a ‘date slash chemistry test’ between you and namjoon and reckoned that you could be great help to one another regarding your respective needs.

“that makes sense. i just don’t know how he did that without my knowledge.”

“well, nothing’s been impossible for hobi, so…”

you agree with a snort.

“by the way, i should mention this before you doze off,” he abruptly halts as he’s beginning to drive off, “mom’s inviting us to dinner this weekend. she heard that i was back in the country and wanted to see how i am.”

you gradually digest that information. “okay. is everyone going to be there?”

“yes, based on our last conversation.”

“should i be prepared for anything at all?”

he seems to find the inquiry funny. “no. just the usual.”

“meaning i should block off every passive aggressive comment your mom makes about either my choice of clothes and social status, right?”

“pretty much, yeah.”

you let out a groan.

“i’m sorry. i would have declined her request but she wouldn’t stop pestering me about it.”

“god, i just really don’t like your mom, joon.” you say. “or your dad. or your older brother. i don’t like everyone, basically—except your pet dog, hiro. no offense.”

“that’s fine. i don’t like them either.” he shrugs, carrying on driving. “plus, you know i’m on your team. i’d defend your honor to death.”

“of course. it’s what makes attending these things tolerable.”

“well, if it makes you feel better, this might be the last family function you’d have to attend.”

you raise your eyebrows, recalling the reason why. “woah, shit, you’re right.”

in less than three months, you’re getting divorced and namjoon’s getting even more money than he already has.

in less than three months, he’s going to share some of the portion of what’s left of his inheritance and it’ll be the last time you’ll receive financial help from him.

it also might be the last time you’ll be with him in general, and though there’s a side of you that’s glad not to be tied down anymore, you can’t say that you’re glad of possibly losing contact with namjoon, having grown fond of his presence in a way.

facing him, you blurt out the first thing that occurs in your mind. “when we get divorced, can i keep my engagement ring?”

namjoon chuckles. “that’s up to you. there’s no reason for me to take it back.”

“but what if you fall in love with a woman someday and think about proposing to her?”

“then i’d buy a new ring.”

“but wouldn’t that be impractical? given that you already have an engagement ring? i mean, this costs so much i could probably buy a lot and a house with it.”

“yeah, but that’s yours. it’d be horrible of me to give her a ring already worn by my first wife.”

“first wife,” you repeat with a dramatic scoff, lips curving upwards regardless. it’s cheesy and tickles your insides. “that trip to spain changed you, joon. you’ve been too flirty since you returned.”

that coaxes out a full laugh from him. “my apologies. it’s a habit at this point.”

“what is?”

“pertaining to you as my wife.” he shrugs. “isn’t it the same for you?”

“pertaining to you as my wife?” you joke.

the dimples make a reappearance. “you know what i mean.”

you think about it. had it been the same for you? there’s not a lot of occasions wherein you have to call namjoon as your husband. your dad isn’t present in your life, your relationship isn’t good with your mother to constantly chat with her, and as for your little sister who was the root cause of why you got married to namjoon…

well, she’s in a better place right now. far better than this crazy and scary world you’re living in.

“i guess,” you say, but your tone isn’t convincing.

“hm, it does seem that way according to what just happened with haein.”

you wince. “sorry about that.”

“don’t be, i understand. i’ve been gone most of the time since you got hired in your new company—and we are separating in a few weeks.”

“time flies really fast, doesn’t it?”

“yep. we used to think that it’ll take forever before the five years are up.”

“true. we kept on suggesting a backup plan if ever we fight and get sick of each other.”

“yet here we are, still happily married.”

“ugh, there you are again!” you accuse and he laughs out loud once more. “are you enjoying cringing me to death?”

namjoon doesn’t answer, a big grin plastered on his face as he continues laughing, groaning eventually when you start slapping his arm because of how it’s obvious that he truly is enjoying this.

“____,” he complains, laughing still, “stop, i’m driving!”

you follow as he says. “you’re the worst.”

“i forgot how easy you are to tease.”

“shut up.”

he snickers, doing a zipping motion against his mouth.

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

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wildestdreamsblog · 2 years ago

Text

Baby Fever

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Summary: You were more than just a secretary to him.

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Breeding kink, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: hiiii! I haven’t felt as inspired as I did while writing this for a while 🥹 I hope you enjoy this!

“I want a baby.”

You sputtered out the coffee you were drinking. Your eyes watered as you coughed. You tried to get your breathing under control as you looked at the imposing man sitting in front of you with his legs spread apart. He had not lifted his eyes from the laptop presented in front of him. He was idly looking at photos of paintings from the various exhibits you attended while he was busy with his group’s schedule. As an idol, and on top of that the leader of the biggest group today, Kim Namjoon was an extremely busy person. You were his secretary for almost four years now. You took care of his personal life, while his personal assistant took care of his work life. You were there for him whenever he was done with his work schedule. You were there to make sure that he remembered to call his family during their birthdays, special occasions, and holidays. In fact, you were the first person he was keen on seeing once he landed from whatever country they were in for work. His members, specially Taehyung and Seokjin, let you know time and time again how much you were appreciated. If you weren’t there, they thought that Namjoon would not be as put up as he was right now. You thought that Namjoon would survived without you.

You coughed twice before finally feeling like you could live. “What?” You asked him in confusion before wiping your self with the handkerchief he had somehow laid out in front of you.

Namjoon eventually looked up to you once he marked the photos of paintings he wanted to purchase. He leaned in, resting his elbow on his muscular thigh before plopping his chin on his hand. “I said, I want a baby.”

You squinted your eyes confusingly, “As in…baby as in baby? Or baby as in I don’t know? Not an actual baby?” You knew even as you asked what he meant. Namjoon was the most intelligent man you knew, and he did not make mistakes when conversing. In fact, he was such a great conversationalist that the media loved to invite him on their shows.

So…what brought this on?

“A child of my own, Y/N.”

That was not the first time he mentioned that. If you could remember clearly, he answered in some interviews that he really wanted to become a father. He even bought that cute little shoes when he was abroad just because. In your mind, you knew he would be the best father if how he took care of his members was any indicator. It broke your heart, though, to see him still alone after all this time.

“I mean…are you seeing someone that I’m not aware of?”

He blinked at you, absorbing what you were asking. How could he had another woman when he spent almost all his free time with you? “No.”

“T-then how?” You asked in puzzlement. You could see from his expression that he was serious about this. He rarely said anything without thinking it thoroughly in the complex and brilliant mind of his. This meant that he really did want to have a child of his own now.

You were finding it difficult to process this. Couldn’t he just want another painting?

Namjoon merely shrugged his broad shoulders and went back to looking over the paintings.

You thought that was the end of it. But no. The second time he mentioned this was at Jin’s house.

You two were about to call it a day after running errands for him. To be honest, you were quite excited for tonight. You were set to meet with your college friends, including someone you always looked up to back in your college years because of his superior intellect. He was also always so kind to you, even walked you home to your dorm every night. But you were too immense in your studies back then that you had no time for relationship. But maybe, now?

You made sure to take more time to dress yourself up this morning. You even chose to swap your usual lipstick to a different shade that made you feel more alluring and beautiful. Your fingers touched the beautiful necklace Namjoon gave you on your birthday last year. You thought that the accessory was perfect with the dress you were wearing.

This would be an easy day for you, you thought to yourself seeing that RM’s schedule was just until the afternoon. You smiled at your reflection in the mirror, satisfied with your appearance before leaving the house. When you showed up at the company to pick him up, the staff politely informed you that the leader was still in the studio with Yoongi and that he told them to ask you to go directly there. You were walking to the floor where the studio was when you passed the three maknaes: Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook.

“Oh, noona!” Jungkook called you, his voice in pleasant surprised as he looked at your face. His doe eyes took in your clothes with wonder before meeting your eyes again. “Noona! You look so pretty!”

Taehyung smiled at you and nodded his head. “Our noona looks so fashionable,” he commented as he checked out your get up today. You beamed at his compliment, happy that the fashionable Taehyung approved of you.

Jimin sauntered up to you, teasingly wrapping his arm around your shoulders before smirking at you. “Our noona has a date,” he speculated on a sing-song voice that made the other two chuckled.

“So where is hyung taking you?” Jungkook pondered, excitement apparent in his eyes.

“Don’t tell me he’s taking you to another exhibit? Aish, he’s so unromantic,” Taehyung lamented, shaking his head at the thought of his hyung and the disastrous date that was about to happen.

“Hyung is not unromantic! As if you know anything about romance,” Jungkook pouted, fully on defending mode for his Namjoon hyung. His lips were in an adorable pout as he chastised Taehyung.

“I know how to be romantic!”

“As if! Until when are you going to keep giving tickets to her until she shows up in our concerts, Taehyung?”

“She will! I can still see her commenting in the weverse!”

“So? Her bias is J-hope, not you!”

You chuckled at the three’s cuteness. Taehyung was now the one pouting while Jungkook looked like he was enjoying tormenting his hyung. You watched them for a moment before finally correcting them. “He’s my boss. We’re not going on a date.”

The three maknaes looked at you with confusion in their eyes. “B-but, why are you so beautiful today?”

You squinted your eyes at Jimin, “So I’m not beautiful everyday?”

“N-No! That’s not what we meant-“Jungkook denied quickly, his eyes widening even further. He was afraid of offending his noona because then, his hyung would looked at him with disappointment in his eyes.

You chuckled lightly, deciding on ending their distress by telling them that you were going to meet with your college friends tonight, in which they were silent. They looked at each other for a moment, as though speaking in telepathy before the oldest maknae spoke up.

“So noona, is that an all-girls event, or no?”

“There’s going to be boys. Why do you ask?”

He smiled at you cheekily, but this time the smile did not reach his eyes. “Nothing.”

The three maknaes watched you walked away from them, your eyes focused on the tablet in front of you. They sighed in disappointment and worry.

“Namjoon hyung is going to lose his mind,” Taehyung finally broke the silence.

“I don’t want to be here when he finds out noona is going to meet boys from her college,” Jungkook fretted, holding both Tae’s and Jimin’s arms.

“RM is going to be unbearable after this, isn’t he?” Jimin stated with a smile that looked more like a wince. The few times you went out on a date, Namjoon was insufferable. He was quiet, too quiet that the maknaes were scared to make a mistake or speak too loudly. “Shall we move to the mountains for a while?”

Yoongi opened the door, smiling politely at you before letting you in the studio. RM’s back faced you as he hunched over the workspace. He was deciding on what beat sounded best when you arrived.

“You’re here, Y/N? I’m almost done-“ he trailed off once he turned his chair to look at you. His eyes widened before he managed to erase the awestruck expression in his face. But Yoongi saw. He smirked before sitting down on his workstation, looking up at the pair in front of him. The other one was an idiot despite being the most intelligent man in almost any room, and the other was a naive one. He hid his smile on the cup of coffee he was slowly sipping.

“No worries, Namjoon. Take your time,” you smiled at him before sitting on the sofa. He was still not able to take his eyes off of you. And you, the ever naive one, only flashed him your professional smile.

And Yoongi was enjoying it all.

“You looked different today, Y/N,” Yoongi commented tonelessly, egging the leader beside him. “Right, Namjoon?”

You blushed as you could feel your boss’ heavy eyes on you. You flashed Yoongi a shy smile before turning to look at Namjoon. It was a moment, a heartbeat too long before he replied with seriousness in his voice, “She always looks beautiful, Yoongi.”

He wanted to add that you looked like a masterpiece, one that had different meanings whenever he looked at it during different times in his life. You were timeless, his heart wanted to add. However, his brain was deaf in his heart’s true desires.

You blinked at his sudden praise on you. “T-thank you, Namjoon.”

“Is there an occasion?” Yoongi asked innocently after reading the message sent by the maknaes about you and your supposedly college reunion. He almost chuckled when he read that the three were planning on staying as far from the company as possible. But not him. This was fun to him. In his opinion, the two of you should have been in a relationship for a long time now. He thought Namjoon needed the push, or a shove if Suga was being honest. And he was willing to be the one to do that. He was a kind friend like that.

“Oh, I have a reunion with my college friends tonight,” you shared as you fixed the papers that Namjoon needed to look at. You wanted to be efficient today so Namjoon could use the rest of the day to finally relax. You thought his eyes looked a little tired lately.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Namjoon noted lightly, fixing you with his hard stare. “What time are you going to meet them? Where are you going to meet? Will you be out late?”

Yoongi was smiling as he watched RM threw question after question at you. Yet, he failed to ask one thing that should be asked.

“Are there gonna be boys, Y/N?” Yoongi asked innocently, blinking owlishly at you before leaning back and watching it all unfold.

Your affirmative answer made RM’s mood turned sour.

You were on edged as you drove the car expertly from the last location of the schedule today. Even at his age, people around Namjoon still adamantly refused to let him drive. The members thought that he would be a danger to people around him, and to himself as well. Namjoon was uncharacteristically silent as you drove. He was either staring at you or outside. Ever since you picked him up from the company, you could feel that something was off. You just could not pinpoint at it. On the other hand, Namjoon was contemplating…or more appropriately scheming as to how he could keep you with him today.

“Let’s go to Jin’s,” he finally broke the silence, flashing you his normal, dimpled smile.

“What?” This was not in the schedule today. You purposely scheduled light meetings today so that he could go home and you would have more than an ample time to drive to the reunion.

“It’s still early. I promise we’re only going to be an hour.”

Lie.

“Ahhhh actual people!” Jin greeted when he opened the door and saw you and Namjoon. He was carrying the box of baby books he insisted would be helpful to the brain development of Jin’s son.

“Hyung, your son is an actual person,” Namjoon said in a light tone as he took in Jin’s state. Despite the bags under his eyes, he was still so handsome that fans would still call him the worldwide handsome. He looked tired, but his eyes held so much happiness that RM could not helped but be happy for his hyung. At the same time, he wanted, no, he craved the domesticity that Jin was now experiencing.

The men were talking and laughing about work as Jin’s wife lead you to her son. You cooed at the child and thought that he would break a lot of hearts in the future. He was a carbon copy of Jin. He was laughing at you when you made funny faces at him, the melodious laughter reached the men’s ears.

“He likes you,” Jin commented, fondly watching his handsome son babbled and laughed. “Do you want to hold him?” His lovely wife asked.

“Really? Can I?” You asked in wonder. She smiled at you before gently laying the happy child safely in your arms.

Your heart melted as you held Jin’s little bundle of joy. The little weight you were holding was someone else’s whole world. He was barely six months old and yet he had so much personality like his father.

“You’re so beautiful, little one,” you whispered to the baby looking up at you as if he understood every word you said.

Namjoon could not even begin to decipher what it was he was feeling when he saw you holding the little Jin in your arms. He just felt this warm feeling in his heart, as if the image of you holding a baby in your arms was from a dream come true. The image was forever imprinted in his mind, he was sure. Something about you felt right. Something about you felt like the missing piece in his life. You had always been there for him. He was not ignorant to think that he could survive without you in his hectic life.

He thought that you were meant to stay in his life.

You were so focused that you almost missed the heat from Namjoon’s body when he leaned in and looked at the baby from your shoulder. You could feel his breath this close that it made you heart beat louder. Was it from shocked? Was it from shyness? Or was it from something else that you had spent years denying?

“So precious,” Namjoon whispered softly. You jumped from the deepness of his voice. You shivered from the body contact you were not used to. You cleared your throat before turning to him.

“Do you wanna hold him?”

And once he had the tiny human in his muscular arms, Namjoon smiled tenderly at Jin’s son. He brushed the sparse of hair he had on his head gently.

For the second time, he said, “I want a baby of my own.”

You were surprised that he once again brought it up. This time it was not only to you but to his hyung. Jin blinked as if he was startled by RM’s admission. He looked at you before looking at his friend.

“I’m sure you’ll be a great father, Namjoon,” Jin said in all seriousness. He knew he would. He was sure of it.

“When will you start making a baby of your own, Namjoon?” His wife asked him teasingly, leaning against Jin as they looked at the man observingly.

RM glanced at you, “Soon.”

You were already an hour too late to be considered fashionably late that RM insisted that he’d have his driver dropped you off to your reunion. You wanted to say no, yet you knew it would be impossible to resist Namjoon whenever he was in that mood. He always knew how to get his way, you thought. His intelligent mind knew just what to do, just what to say in order to get what he wanted.

And that night, he did.

Your college friends looked at you happily when you stepped out of the car. They walked closer to you, welcoming you to the party. And there you saw him, the man you hadn’t been able to forget. He was still as handsome as ever. You couldn’t help but smile when he was approaching when you felt a presence behind you.

“Hi. I just dropped off Y/N. I’m sorry she’s late,” RM greeted the group charmingly before nonchalantly placing his large hand on your waist. You jumped from the contact. He never did that. What would your friends think? Your head was in overdrive that you didn’t notice your friends fawning over the Kim Namjoon. He was treating them kindly, allowing them to take pictures with him before he turned to you.

“Enjoy your night, Y/N,” he murmured before placing a kiss on your cheek.

Well, there went your chance with your college crush.

You didn’t know what to make of his actions that when you went to his house the following week for information pertaining to the property he was looking at, you were on edged. You didn’t have to knock because he told you before to just enter his penthouse. You were given access to his home. You took a deep breath before walking inside his house, not knowing what to anticipate with him, with his touch…and that kiss that should not have happened.

“Oh, Y/N! You’re here! Come sit!” Namjoon’s mom called from his dining table, smiling pleasantly at you that you froze. You didn’t expect her here but at least there was a buffer between the two of you now, right?

“It’s been so long! You’re so thin! Is my son too hard on you?” She asked as she pulled you to sit beside her, in front of RM who only looked intently at you. You couldn’t read his expression. He was wearing a simple black shirt that fit a little too snugly on his chest. You hated how you were noticing yet again his physical qualities like you did when you were merely starting. His mom was still reprimanding his son as she put plate in front of you despite you offering to help. She merely shrugged you off, happy that you were there to take care of her son. Who knew what would happen to him if you weren’t here, she thought. RM was silently eating, enjoying the way his mom was mothering you when she turned her attention to him once again.

“When will you give me a grandchild? With the way you are working, you have no time for family! All my friends and neighbors have at least one grandchild. Son, just give me one, okay? Just one,” She pleaded as she placed more food on his plate.

“Okay, omma,” Namjoon consented. He was serious, yet his mother groaned as if he was just placating her.

“You,” she turned to you, placing more food on your plate as well. “Don’t be like my son. Go make your own babies! I’ll just borrow your child every once in a while, okay?” She told you humorously as she laughed and told you that you needed to eat more.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, the man’s face darkened with the mere thought of you carrying someone else’s child. He hated the thought of you not being his. He had the whole weekend to think intensely, and all the answers pointed to you.

You didn’t have time to discuss with him what had transpired. The following weeks, he was busy with work, yet this time he had always quietly ordered that you’d be with him. Before, you only had to meet with him thrice a week. But now, you were with him almost everyday. You were working in his office when Hoseok and Yoongi entered the room.

“Oh! Y/N, you’re here!” Hoseok exclaimed before walking to you with the brightest smile you had ever seen. Yoongi only smiled at you in acknowledgement before approaching RM and showing him his laptop. They were deep in conversation when Hoseok asked you if you knew where the list for the event was. You nodded before standing up. It was in the overhead cabinet. You reached for it in difficulty for a moment when you felt a hand on your waist, and RM’s muscular arm stretched beside you as he grabbed with such ease what you were trying to reach. He was as near as that night. “Here you go, Y/N,” he whispered…and heavens did it feel sensual in your ear. His hot breath tickled your neck. You could feel your cheeks heat up from his proximity.

You were starting to notice that RM was becoming…touchy lately. It didn’t feel disrespectful to you, it just felt like something changed with the way he was acting, with the way he was looking at you, with the way he was demanding your attention.

J-hope looked at Suga in astonishment. Were these two finally a thing?

One night, you were walking to your humble apartment with Namjoon beside you. His hands were in his pockets as he walked you to your door despite you telling him that you were fine. But you should know, he was a stubborn one. It was late, and the only light were from the hallway of your apartment. It was almost midnight when the two of you arrived at your apartment after checking out the house Namjoon wanted to buy. He asked you what you thought of it, and you said it was beautiful. The yard was spacious with swimming pool. The house itself had numerous bedrooms that you didn’t know who would stay there. In your mind, you rationalized that it must be his members if ever they wanted to stay. In Namjoon’s mind, it was for his family. He listened intently to what you had to say, and only when he saw how your face lightened up when you saw the whole house did he decide to buy it.

“Here I am, boss Namjoon,” you announced jokingly before straining to look up at your tall employer.

You blinked when he only stared at you, “Namjoon?”

“Good night, my princess,” he murmured with his deep voice.

Did he just…call you his princess?

You were too shocked to notice him leaning down. And once he did, you felt his lips kissed your forehead softly, his large hand on the back of your head. You were frozen when he stepped back.

And then he left.

Namjoon thought you needed time to process everything. He knew you were an over-thinker, that you were a flight risk. He just didn’t know you would be like this with mere kisses on your cheek and forehead. You hadn’t been picking up your phone since that day, and he had half a mind to go to your apartment. But he had to keep in mind that there were less conspicuous method to use.

You read the message from Namjoon this afternoon. Apparently, he forgot to pick up the gift he had for his father’s birthday and he was now in his hometown. He was half-pleading and half-apologizing for his clumsiness that you felt bad to just leave him on read. And so you replied that you’d bring it to him.

Your mind was blank as you drove for hours to him. Ever since that night, the feelings you had tried so hard to bury and successfully did, were resurfacing. It was unfair, you thought. You didn’t have the emotional capacity to fall for him. You knew how this would end. When you started to work for him, you thought he was everything. You looked up to him because he was so kind, so intelligent, and so masculine. He was gentle with you even when you made a mistake. He helped you find an apartment that was safe after he saw how you were living before. He paid for the deposit and for the rent during the first year despite your adamant refusal. He even paid for your grandmother’s hospital bills, the only family you had. She had lived longer than what the doctor said. She died without experiencing difficulty eventually, all thanks to RM’s connections to the best hospitals. You wanted to pay him. You even refused to accept your salary, with no success. Namjoon just merely shrugged and said he wouldn’t let anything happen to you as long as he was around. And you believed him.

And so, you did your best to take care of him day and night. Even going beyond your job description. You became his secretary, but what was more, you became his friend, an ear to vent on, even a shoulder to lay his head to rest.

One night, RM had too much to drink. He was feeling suffocated from the pressure of the world. You found him staring on an empty bottle of whiskey when you arrived in his penthouse. That night, you sat with him, listened to his worries, rubbed his back with comforting hands. You assured him that he was not the version he thought of himself. He was better. He was the best man you ever knew. You told him how much you appreciated him, and that he was doing his best.

That night, he asked you what he would do without you.

That night, you told him he’d never have to find out.

That night, he kissed you.

And come morning, he forgot about it.

But you didn’t. And that was the first time he hurt you.

Your memory trail stopped when you saw him standing in front of their house, waiting for you.

His father, just like his mother, was able to convince you to stay the night. He said you were family, and that it would be his birthday wish to spend it with the woman who managed to keep his son alive. He even joked that without you, RM would probably forget to pay his bills, to keep his fish alive, or even to eat. You laughed and said RM was becoming more mature lately and that he could survive without you. RM disagreed.

“You know what, you could do so much than be with my brother,” RM’s younger sister said teasingly as all of you were eating dinner. She stuck her tongue out to her brother who just rolled his eyes at her.

“Oh,” you chuckled shyly before looking at the tall man sitting beside you. “We’re not together!”

“Why not? I was just kidding. I think you’re perfect for him,” she admitted before smiling at the two of you. She was just voicing out what her family had been thinking for years. By now, you were a permanent fixture in their lives that if and not when the day comes that RM introduced someone else to them, they would find it hard to accept her.

You chuckled before telling her that your relationship with her brother was strictly professional.

“He’s working you too hard, isn’t he?” His father asked you as he shook his head at his innocent son. “Listen to me, life is too short to work all day. Go out and have a beautiful life! Or else you’ll find yourself old and alone one day without a family of your own.”

Once the intimate party died down, you found yourself talking with RM in the living room with alcohol in front of you. The two of you were seated on the floor side by side with the sofa behind you. His parents had called it a night after drinking with them, while his sister tapped out as well. Alcohol and the existence of other people helped to die down the awkwardness you felt. You were laughing at RM’s anecdote about the thing that happened during their dance practice. He watched you with contentment in his face. Seeing you happy was making him feel like he did something right, like he won one of those awards. He didn’t know when it started, but he just knew the desire to make you laugh would never go away. He was sure of it.

“I’m sorry about my family. They’re just used to teasing me.”

You waved him off before pouring his empty glass, before pouring yours. “It’s nothing, really. I had fun. I’m glad I came.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” he admitted, his look at you was as intense as that night that your heart started to beat harder, as if it wanted to escape the cage it was in. You blinked and decided to look away. You fanned yourself, “It’s quite warm in here, right?”

Namjoon smirked before drinking, his eyes never wavering from your face. “You’re beautiful, princess,” he commented, his voice deep as he waited for you to look at him again. He was near, so near that his thighs were touching yours. So near that whenever he moved, his muscular arm brushed against yours.

“God, you’re so drunk,” you muttered before looking up at him.

“I may be. But come morning and ask me again, and I’d still tell you you’re the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me.”

You gulped, his voice deepened even further. “You’re the most important person in my life,” he admitted with intensity in his voice, with promise in his eyes. “I know I love you.”

Your eyes widened before attempting to move away from him when you felt his massive hand on your back, preventing you from moving away from him, effectively stopping you from running away from the truth that he never tried to fight.

“You don’t mean that,” you whispered, your hand now on his chest as you tried to stop him from coming any closer. He shouldn’t. He couldn’t. Because if he did, he’d feel how hard your heart was beating just for him. Or how terrified you were of falling, only to have him forget about it again. To forget you again.

“I do. I mean it,” he whispered leaning in slowly at you. “I love you.” And then he kissed you. And you were all too powerless to stop him. He pulled away after a moment. You were breathing hard, your eyes trained on his lips before meeting his eyes. And then this time, you kissed him.

You didn’t know how, but the two of you found yourselves in his bedroom. His hand was entangled with your hair, your hands caressing his broad back as he walked you to his bed. You were drunk from the alcohol and his kisses, his heavenly kisses. He pushed you gently to the bed, and not a second was wasted before he joined you. You pulled off his shirt, your eyes in awe at his form. His muscles were definitely more defined now than when you last saw it accidentally back when you were just beginning to work for him. His chest looked definitely stronger. You were aware of this from seeing him wearing tight shirts, but this? This was something else.

You moaned lightly as Namjoon trailed kisses on your neck, peppering it with subtle marks of his own. He thought that you were his, and that your neck should be adorned with his marks. “Keep it down, princess,” he teased you as he got impatient with the endless buttons of your blouse that he resorted to ripping it off of you. He couldn’t be gentle. Not when the woman of his dreams was finally on his bed. “Or do you want me to cover your mouth?”

You didn’t know that he had it in him to be a dirty talker. You were feeling the heat when he smirked at you before you felt his lips on your chest, down to your stomach, and finally to your core. You closed your legs, shyness finally coming back to you as you sobered from his sinful kisses. He was kneeling, his legs were on either side of you as he leaned closer to you once again. “Be a good girl and open your legs, princess,” he ordered, his hand caressing your soft thigh.

His commanding voice was like a hypnotic spell that you found yourself opening your legs slowly for him. And as a reward, he made your legs shook. You were still catching your breath that you didn’t notice he placed a pillow under you, lifting your core. He kissed you once again on your lips so tenderly, so lovingly that for a moment you believed he loved you.

“You are made for me, princess,” he whispered before looking at you with darkness in his eyes, “You’re made for daddy. Say it.”

You keened when you felt his hardness slide at your core teasingly, punishingly as you waited a little too long to repeat what he wanted you to.

“Say it, princess. Don’t make daddy mad,” his hot breaths were tickling your ear as he pinched your sore nipple that you yelped.

“I-I’m made- ugh- I’m made for daddy,” you finally said as you felt his thick head slowly entered your drenched core.

“And who’s your daddy?”

“You are.”

That night, he told you repeatedly how you were his and his only. He made you promised that you would never leave him, and that you would never ignore him once again. He made you come so much that you lost track of the time. His large hand was on your mouth, preventing you from waking the whole house up as he rutted against you with so much stamina and passion. He made you so mindless that you didn’t realize he was finishing inside you each time. He made sure to not let a single drop leave your core.

The third time he didn’t have to mention about wanting a baby of his own, he just did.

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