Little Black Book: Series (M)

Little Black Book: Series (M)

There are a few names in your Little Black Book, but these seven hold a special place in your heart.  Now that you are closing that chapter in your life, you reminisce the time and experience you have had with your seven favourite men.

Rating: Explicit, 18+. NO MINORS ALLOWED!!

1. Min Yoongi - The One You Trust 2. Kim Seokjin - The One You Hate 3. Jung Hoseok - The One Who Broke Your Heart 4. Jeon Jungkook - Your Kindred Spirit 5. Kim Taehyung - The One You Had a Crush On 6. Park Jimin - Your Nemesis 7. Kim Namjoon - The Endgame

As always, likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!

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 to 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.

III. So I Speak Your Name || KNJ

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni

Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, the absolute slowest of burns

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader, unrequited Taehyung x reader

Beta'd by @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii - thank you endlessly!

Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love. 

Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.

//

You and Namjoon bond over literature and alcohol.

Section Warnings: language, drinking, drinking games, bar scenes, pov switches between OC and Namjoon a few times

WC: 7.5k

The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold. - Journey | Edna St. Vincent Millay

Tuesday October 9th

On Sundays I visit graveyards, paying my respects to the many  words that have died  on my lips.

On Sundays I leave flowers commemorating each admission that I struck down before it could reach you.

On Sundays I leave stones atop marble markers to memorialize those that you and I chose to leave unturned.

They say you only exist as long as someone remembers you, so I speak your name like my own Hail Mary full of grace.

You scratch out the last four lines and read it back. Then you change your mind, decide you like them, and add them once again at the bottom.

The final so turns into an and. Then you change it back to so. You sigh in frustration, closing your eyes. 

“You sound angry,” someone says, and you nearly leap off the stool in your kitchen. Namjoon stands in the doorway, holding a grocery bag, a carton of eggs sticking out the top. 

“Why did I choose a writing degree when I’m so bad at writing?” you ask him plaintively. 

It’s a little more honest, a little more personal than you two have been before. It just sort of slips, honestly, your head still a bit stuck in the world of words and phrases instead of in the present.

He smiles ruefully and moves into the kitchen, starting to put away his groceries. “I know that feeling,” he admits. Then, not looking at you, he adds, “I didn’t know you were in the writing program. I did it, too, for undergrad. You have Jemisen?”

“Really?” you ask. “How did we live together for a month and not know that? And yeah, Jemisen.”

Namjoon chuckles lightly, and you catch yourself watching his shoulders move as he reaches high in a cupboard to put a box away. “I guess we don’t talk that much,” he admits. “Are you doing fiction for your thesis?”

“Poetry,” you tell him.

He turns to look at you over his shoulder, clearly surprised.

“Wow,” he says, brows furrowed. “Really?”

You laugh a little at the circular nature of your conversation. “Yes, really,” you say, smiling. “Though I will admit to regretting that decision on more than one occasion.”

“Again,” he says, finally folding up his reusable grocery bag and stashing it between the fridge and the counter, “I know the feeling.”

“Are you doing writing for your grad program too?” you ask, suddenly curious. 

He nods, leaning back against the counter. It’s that magical golden hour in the apartment, your favorite, when the outside light comes in orange and glowing. It casts a honey tinge over Namjoon’s skin, a softer brown showing up in his dark hair. There’s something sharp in his gaze suddenly, something that’s not usually there - like he’s honing in on something for the first time. 

“Fiction?” you prod. This is more interesting than your poetry homework, for sure. 

“Unfortunately,” he jokes. “So, poetry? My buddy did that track, he said it was hard. I thought about it, but I didn’t want to give up on fiction entirely, and I knew I couldn’t handle both. Plus my poetry’s pretty bad.”

“So is mine,” you grumble, eyeing your notebook grumpily. 

Namjoon gives a sigh and moves towards his room. “I have class tonight,” he tells you, “but if you want to order extra dinner and leave me the leftovers, I’ll pay you for it.”

“Sure,” you say easily, glancing at the clock. You hadn’t really thought about dinner yet, but you’ll need to soon. “Text me what you want. I’ll probably get our usual.”

It strikes you, suddenly, that you two have a usual. It’s early October, the leaves barely starting to turn. It’s the part of fall where you’re too hot when you walk in the sun, and chilly when you walk through the shadows. You’ve only lived with Namjoon for about a month and a half, and somehow you have a usual takeout order.

It’s strange.

But you don’t hate it.

Namjoon leaves a few minutes later, a brown cross-body bag settled against his lower back. You sit at the breakfast bar, your poetry notebook closed in front of you with your pen marking your page, and wonder about your mysterious roommate. You wonder what his poetry is like, what it would tell you about him if you ever got the chance to see it. You wonder if his fiction writing is what keeps him holed up in his room day in and day out, the lights low.

About an hour later, you text Taehyung to see if he wants to come eat dinner.

“Can’t,” he answers. “Already have plans for dinner. Sry!”

You sink onto the couch, grimacing. “Already have plans” means a date. 

The thing is, you know you could ask Taehyung to take you to dinner, and he’d do it. Hell, you could probably even say, “Take me on a date,” and he’d do that, too - wear something nice, spray on a more expensive cologne, open the car door for you and pull out your chair, all that shit. He’d do everything exactly right.

He’d do everything for the sake of irony. 

That’s what it boils down to, and you know it in your bones: intention. Taehyung could spend all twenty-four hours treating you exactly how a boyfriend should, but at the end of the day his intention was not romantic, and there was nothing you could do to change that. 

You turn on the tv, determined not to waste your night wondering how his is going.

Thursday October 11th 

Thursday marks nearly the middle of the month. It’s unseasonably warm when you walk to class, but you carry a jacket, knowing that when you leave the bookstore after your shift, the chill will warrant it. 

You have a bullshit class, one that doesn’t apply to your degree concentration, something that the university requires for everyone. The only saving grace is that it’s short. 

When it ends, you have some choices. You don’t have to be at the bookstore until three. You could go back to the apartment. It’s certainly enough time. Or you could get lunch on campus and handle any academic errands you had, as it were.

And, you sort of had an academic errand swimming in the back of your mind. 

You head to the building that houses the staff offices for the writing and literature professors. They’re all tucked away in a little wing back behind where the classrooms are. You’ve been there a few times over the years - twice to talk to your academic advisor about your upcoming schedules, and once to help a professor carry her armload of papers and her laptop back from the classroom. 

You scan the names on each door until you find Jemisen, and knock tentatively. He turns, surprised. 

“Y/N,” he says, and then glances at his computer, as if trying to determine if you’d scheduled a meeting and he’d forgotten.

“I wasn’t sure if it was your office hours,” you say quickly, to let him know he hadn’t made a mistake. “But I had a quick question about my last assignment, and I was already over here on campus…”

“Ah,” he says, understanding. “Well, it is my office hours, but it just so happens that I was called into a last-second budget meeting, because how we spend our money is certainly more important than my students’ academic success!” He looks at you, seeming to think belatedly that this little sarcastic rant might have been better staying in his head. “Anyway, I have a TA here who could help you look at it? I trust him implicitly.”

You’re a little uncomfortable with the idea - Professor Jemisen has been reading and working with you on your poetry for over a year; you don’t want to work on it with a stranger. 

“Oh,” you say, “I’m not - I could -.”

A body comes around the corner. “I heard TA. Have I been summoned?”

It’s Namjoon.

You want to vanish through the floor.

“I’ll just -,” you start to say, but Professor Jemisen cuts you off, collecting some papers off of his desk and reaching for the jacket he’d placed on a hook beside the door. 

“This is Y/N, she’s a senior in my poetry thesis class,” he tells your roommate. “She’s looking for help reworking a stanza on her last submission, right, Y/N?”

You bluster, you struggle to make words. You want to shake your head no, but your body isn’t cooperating. 

“I’m happy to help,” Namjoon says to you. “My office is two doors down.”

Professor Jemisen is already through the door, clapping Namjoon on the back in thanks as he goes. This gives you the chance to collect yourself, jump-start your brain again.

“You get your own office as a TA?” you ask wryly, one eyebrow lifting. 

Namjoon smiles. There’s something different about him here, an easy confidence you don’t see him exude when he’s just at the apartment. 

“Come on,” he says, and you walk out into the narrow corridor. Namjoon closes Professor Jemisen’s door behind you and leads you to his own space.

“To answer your question,” he says, still smiling sort of sheepishly, “no, TA’s do not get their own offices. This one was empty because Bianca - Professor Whyte - retired and they haven’t replaced her yet… I sort of commandeered it. I share it with two other grad students, technically. Just until the university hires someone.”

He sits at the desk and motions for you to take the chair next to it. The office is clean and pretty empty - a tall bookshelf holds only about half a dozen books, taking up just a small section of one lone shelf. There are two small potted plants on the windowsill, and a coffee mug shoved behind the computer monitor. Otherwise, the room seems unowned, devoid of any identifying artifacts. 

“This is very weird,” you say, because you have to say it. 

“What is?” he asks absently, his eyes on one of the windowsill plants.

“My roommate reading my poetry,” you say flatly. “My roommate workshopping my poetry with me.”

He turns to look at you, surprise and perhaps a touch of hurt flickering across his face. “If you’re uncomfortable, I can ask someone else to work with you, or you can wait for Professor Jemisen. I didn’t realize…”

You sigh inwardly. You hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. “You don’t think it’s weird?” you challenge, trying to keep your voice light.

He shrugs. “I’m just doing my job. I’m on the clock. But like I said… if you’re uncomfortable, then let’s find a Plan B.”

“You’re Plan B,” you grumble. “We’d need to find Plan C.”

You kind of want to take his offer of walking away. But you’re already here, and you don’t want to hurt his feelings worse and make things weird at home. 

“Here,” you say, rummaging in your bag. “Just don’t, like, peer into my soul or anything.”

Namjoon laughs like he’s surprised by this. “It’s poetry,” he says, grabbing a pen and turning to see what you put on the desk. “I don’t think that’s optional.”

You slide your notebook over to him. “Professor Jemisen hated the second stanza,” you say.

He looks at you, eyes wide. “He didn’t say that.”

You chuckle. “No, but it’s still true.”

Namjoon reads the poem to himself silently, lips moving with the words. 

On Sundays I leave flowers commemorating each admission that I struck down before it could reach you.

“Okay,” he says finally, “I think you should keep the top line of the stanza the same - to keep the pattern.”

You nod, listening. 

He presses his pen against his lips, eyes narrowed as they scan the lines again. “I think the word admission is too chunky,” he says. “In the second line.”

“Confession?” you supply. “Commemorating each confession?”

“That gives you some nice alliteration,” he notes, nodding.

“Does it flow better?” you prompt.

Namjoon repeats the first two lines to himself, under his breath. “On Sundays I leave flowers, commemorating each confession. Yeah, I think it does.”

“I’ll change it,” you decide, and he does it for you, scratching out admission and writing confession next to it in red ink.

“The third line sucks,” you muse, reading over his arm. 

“It doesn’t suck,” he says mildly. “What were you trying to say?”

You think about this. “That each admission - confession, whatever - that the speaker didn’t voice…it’s almost like those words were trying to reach their recipient, but the speaker shot them down in flight, you know? Does that make sense?”

Namjoon ticks his head to the side, thinking. “It makes sense,” he assures you. “I’m just thinking about how to say it.”

You both peer at the stanza in silence, thinking.

“You’ve got this imagery of shooting something down mid-flight, like you just said,” he murmurs, eyes on the page, “but in the first stanza, you say the words die on the speaker’s lips, meaning they never get said in the first place. Maybe you need to change the imagery to holding it in instead of stopping it once it’s out?”

You scan the first stanza again, nodding slowly. “Commemorating every confession that suffocated beneath fresh-packed earth,” you say, voice almost a whisper as you listen to how the phrase would sound.

Namjoon chuckles darkly. “Buried alive? Harsh.”

You tap the page, finger on the bottom stanza. “The confessions - the words - are what died and got buried. But then, in the final stanza, she’s saying she keeps him alive by remembering him, but maybe she’s keeping her confessions alive as well. Like, she’s continuing to give them life by continuing to speak life into them. It works on two levels.”

Namjoon nods, letting out a quick, impressed breath almost like a laugh. “That’s good,” he says, sliding your notebook over to you. “Write it down before you forget.”

You scratch out the second stanza and write in the space next to it,

On Sundays I leave flowers commemorating every confession that suffocated beneath six feet of fresh-packed earth.

“I like it better,” you say, reading the whole thing back to yourself. 

“It’s definitely better,” he agrees. 

You put a hand on the page, ready to slide it completely away from him, to put it back in your bag. 

Namjoon places his fingers on the page, just inches from yours. His index finger strokes the last line, where your hand had pressed the pen to the page and placed there, Hail Mary full of grace.

“What would happen if you stopped visiting?” he asks, voice very low. He’s leaning forward, his shoulder close enough to yours that you can feel the heat coming off his body. 

“Excuse me?” you snap. This was exactly what you hadn’t wanted - interpretation, application to your real life.

“The speaker,” he corrects quickly, eyes flicking down to the page and then back up to meet yours again. There’s something gentle and coaxing in his voice as he continues. “What would happen if the speaker decided to spend their time elsewhere? Wouldn’t it be better for them to just… let the dead stay dead?”

Goosebumps cover your arms, but you’re also suddenly pissed. “I don’t have an answer to that,” you say firmly. “It’s poetry, it’s not real life.” You slap the notebook shut and toss it into your bag, tugging on the zipper like your life depends on it. You stand, hiking your bag onto your shoulder. 

He’s still looking at you contemplatively, leaning back in his chair, long legs stretching under the desk. Then, he seems to snap out of it, and he peers up at you apologetically. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m used to that kind of thinking and response from my grad classes. But you’d already expressed that you weren’t comfortable… I should’ve left that alone.”

You shift from foot to foot, still stinging. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “Thanks for the help. I’ll resubmit this version.”

“Y/N,” he calls, stopping you in the doorway. You pause, turning to look. “Would it make you feel better to see a really personal one of mine?” His smile is rueful, his dimples teasing.

You exhale on a laugh. “Only if I get to question your poor life choices when I’m done,” you say.

He laughs at this. “I accept,” he says seriously, a smile still tugging at his lips. “In exchange for your forgiveness.”

You slap your palm lightly against the wooden doorframe, twice. “It’s a deal,” you say, and disappear down the hallway. 

–

He sends you a screenshot two hours later. Before you can enlarge it enough to read anything, he sends, “Good GOD this is bad. Enjoy!” 

I love you by pressing my fingertips into soil. Is it too dry? Can it go another day? I love you by pushing ceramic just two inches  to the left where the sunlight hits at exactly four pm. I love you by wiping dust from leaves just how I'd wipe tears from cheeks. I love you by admiring each new bloom as it appears.

And when I’m thorn-pricked it doesn’t hurt because my only expectation  was for it to grow.

You read it twice, then a third time. 

[3:22 PM] You: that is NOT bad omg [3:23 PM] You: i need more context so i can mock your bad decisions [3:23 PM] You: that was the deal 😤 [3:27 PM] Namjoon: haha stop it. [3:28 PM] Namjoon: i cringed so hard when i read it again [3:29 PM] Namjoon: but i hope you actually forgive me now

Friday October 12th

‘-yet with everything left unsaid, still they said goodbye.’

Namjoon pounds twice on his desk in victory as he rereads the last line of the chapter he’d just finished. It’s good, he thinks. It’s actually good, the whole chapter. Not perfect - nothing ever would be - but good enough that he feels excited to send it to the cohort and get some feedback.

There’s a noise from his doorway and he spins in the chair, minimizing the document out of habit. 

You smile at him from the door. “It’s going well, huh?” you say, a little playfully. 

Namjoon feels something like cold run down his legs. It’s the absolute horror of being known.  “What are you talking about?” he asks, voice even.

You fold your arms over your chest like you feel defensive. “You hit the desk when you’re happy about it,” you explain.

Namjoon stares at you, absolutely dumbfounded. He hadn’t realized you even knew he was writing, let alone that you’d been tracking his habits well enough to pick up on little things like that. He’s always kept his writing - and his behavior as a writer - pretty private. The only person who had ever seen behind the curtain, so to speak, was Elyse. And look how that turned out. 

Namjoon decides to side-step this. He doesn’t know what to say. Instead, he goes with, “Did you need something?”

He knows it’s cold. He doesn’t even mean to be cold. But something about this interaction has all of his mental alarm bells ringing - telling him that this might be inching towards dangerous territory. 

Territory he’s been in before. Territory he clawed his way out of. 

“Oh,” you say, a little taken-aback. “Well, yeah. I was trying to see if anyone would be into the idea of a game night this weekend? What do you think?”

Namjoon’s about to answer that he doesn’t mind when his conversation with Yoongi and Hobi floats into his brain. He remembers their bony chins digging into his shoulders as they read your texts and affirmed that, yes, he’d hurt your feelings by leaving last time. 

“Game night,” he repeats slowly. “Care to elaborate on the plan?”

This makes you smile again, like you’re pleased that he’s entertaining the idea. “Smaller crowd than last time,” you say. “Game categories up for discussion - could do board games, drinking games, video games… maybe a rotation?”

“A rotation,” Namjoon repeats flatly, not sure if you’re joking.

Your smile widens, eyes crinkling. It had been a joke. “We can decide what we feel like,” you say. “I was thinking maybe Saturday night?”

“Okay,” Namjoon says.

“Okay I can plan it… or okay, you’ll be there?” you ask, chewing lightly on the inside of your cheek.

Namjoon feels himself smile despite himself, despite the alarm bells, despite your dead-on observation of his habits. “I’ll stay,” he promises.

Saturday October 13th 

The night actually does rotate. Or, rather, you all start with a board game and it delves soon into drinking games. Namjoon finds himself sitting on the living room floor, a whiskey and soda in his hand, watching across an abandoned game board - pieces still laying sideways, forgotten - as you giggle into Taehyung’s shoulder after being brought down by a very targeted round of Never Have I Ever.

(Never have I ever… worn a bra. …used a curling iron. …put on mascara. …cried to a Hallmark movie. The guys went right down the line, 1-2-3-4-5, you never had a chance.)

“You have to drink, Y/N,” Jungkook says, poking you with his socked foot. 

“Get your toe-socks off of me,” you try to snap, but you’re still fighting giggles and you sound as menacing as a puppy.

“I think we need a no-targeting rule,” Yoongi says fairly, watching as you dutifully down your cup and rise to mix yourself a new one. “Or Y/N will end up in the hospital tonight.”

“I am not holding your hair this time,” Taehyung shouts into the kitchen. “Once was enough!”

“It was enough for me, too, believe me,” you answer him seriously, but your mouth twitches. You’re still fighting giggles.

“He’s right,” Jimin speaks up. “No more targeting - not just Y/N, for anyone. It won’t be fun that way.”

“Should we switch games?” Hobi asks. “How about Kings?”

Namjoon groans. “I’m not drunk enough for that.”

“Then get drunker,” Taehyung tells him, nodding towards the kitchen bar - littered with half-full liquor bottles and various mixers - where you’re still standing with your cup.

“I’m working on it,” Namjoon tells him, lifting his nearly-empty cup as proof. 

You settle back onto the floor across from him, carefully holding your freshly filled cup so that it doesn’t slosh over the edges. “What’d we decide?”

The game of Kings begins harmlessly - Jungkook picks an 8 and chooses Jimin to drink whenever he drinks, no surprise there. Jimin picks a 4, and everyone slaps the floor - Yoongi is last, so he drinks. 

Then Hobi picks a King - make up any rule, any rule at all - and his eyes sparkle with unspilled mischief. 

“T-Rex arms!” Taehyung shouts. “T-Rex arms for the rest of the night!”

“Funny accents for the rest of the night!”

“You have to drink every time you say someone’s name!”

“You have to drink every time anyone says ‘what’!”

Everyone shouts their suggestions, but Hobi waves his hands to quiet them.

“If you say someone’s name,” he begins, and everyone leans forward, interested, “they get to tell the group some tea about you.”

Everyone lets out an ooooh of appreciation.

“That’s gonna get messy,” you observe, eyes wide. 

The game continues, everyone being careful to tap each other’s knees to get their attention instead of calling their names. But as the hour grows later and the alcohol flows, you all forget to be so careful. When Jimin gets up to grab another drink, Jungkook calls, “Jimin, will you bring me a beer?”

“You said his name!” Nearly the whole circle shrieks it at once, pointing sloppily at Jungkook in accusation.

“Ji- I mean, sir in the kitchen, you get to tell us some tea about Jung- I mean, this one,” Hobi says, correcting himself around a series of belly laughs. 

Jimin grins like the cat who ate the canary. “He’s the one who broke his good headphones.” He points at Yoongi to indicate which his he means since he can’t say Yoongi’s name.

“Hyung!” Jungkook cries, betrayal written all over his face and voice. 

At the same time, Yoongi’s head whips around to look at his younger friend in accusation. “You owe me money for those! They were my favorite!”

“I told you,” you say, your voice carrying sweetly over the din. “Messy.” 

The game continues, pausing when Yoongi misses his turn as he’s too busy looking up how much his headphones cost so he can show Jungkook.

Without thinking, Namjoon lazily says, “You’re up, Yoongi.”

Everyone looks at him, grins growing like predators who have discovered injured prey. 

“Oh, damn,” he sighs. Yoongi looks up from his phone, eyes glinting.

“Well,” he says, clearly enjoying his audience and the chance to embarrass his best friend, “when this friend was getting over Elyse, he played Davichi’s Beside Me on repeat for hours at a time, and I know for a fact that he still knows every word.”

Namjoon’s not sure how to name the emotion that surges from his stomach up to his face; mortified, sure. Angry, a little. Everyone around the circle is laughing - Jimin’s even wiping a lone tear from under his eye. Is it funny, from the outside? He guesses it is. He feels a little detached, a little floaty.

“Oh shit, Elyse!” Taehyung sort of shouts, sitting up a little. “I forgot about her!”

“That’s cute,” Namjoon says. “Wish I could.” Even he can hear how bitter he sounds.

“What ever happened with her?” Taehyung asks, more musing than actually directing the question at Namjoon, or anyone.

“Tae!” you scold, elbowing him. “You’re such an insensitive ass, do you know that?”

To his credit, Taehyung looks abashed and backpedals immediately. “I mean - sorry - I’m just curious. Didn’t mean to put you on blast.”

“It’s fine,” Namjoon says, but he’s dying to get out of that room, out of everyone’s sight, away from the fading laughter and from the sideways, searching look you’re giving him. He stands, tries to keep his face passive. “I’m gonna… go pee.” 

He slides into the dark of his room and heads for the bathroom. He doesn’t even need to go, he just needs it to look like he left for a reason. Behind him, he can hear Yoongi despite his purposely lowered voice as he says, “She left him back in June. Same shit as always - he loved her way more than she liked him.”

Namjoon wishes he could refute this. Even if he’d been out there to defend himself, he couldn’t. Yoongi knew every detail about Namjoon’s last relationship and the break-up that ended it, and his assessment was right. 

Namjoon had liked her - loved her - more than she liked him. His expectations were too high for what she could give him. Sometimes he wondered if she was the problem, or if he was. Were his expectations for a partner too high in general? Was he asking too much, wanting someone to care for him the way he cared for them? 

When he comes out of the bathroom, Yoongi is leaning against his desk waiting for him.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts. “The song part is funny - I was thinking about it because you were humming it in the library yesterday. I didn’t think about the… Elyse of it all. I wasn’t trying to make fun of you. Especially in front of…” He trails off. But Namjoon knows where the sentence was going. 

He doesn’t even have the oomph to argue it.

“I know,” he says simply. “It’s okay.”

“If we hadn’t been drinking…” Yoongi says, voice a little thoughtful. “I mean, I’m not trying to make excuses. I just would have considered my words a little more carefully.”

“I know,” Namjoon says again, insistent. “It’s okay, hyung. I’m not mad at you. Let’s go back.”

When they return to the group, it seems that in their absence you had organized the board game again and gotten everyone focused. He wasn’t sure if you’d done it on purpose, diverted their attention to rules and set-up so they wouldn’t look too closely at his face as he took his spot again, but he appreciated it regardless. 

Taehyung catches his eye, grimaces in apology. Namjoon gives a shrug and a headshake, letting him know they’re alright. 

How can he be mad? Are they supposed to pretend his mistakes don’t exist? He can’t impose his own rules on others, it wouldn’t be fair.

Friday October 19th

The week passes in a blur. Namjoon works on his book, workshops for his classmates, goes to class, attends his TA hours, eats, sleeps, walks outside when he can. You exist in orbit around him, sometimes communicating in passing - but only in passing. You spend no time together, have no conversations, share no text messages or meals.

It’s starting to feel safe again, Namjoon thinks. Those alarm bells have quieted down. Now they act more like disgruntled guard dogs who think they saw something in the yard; they keep their narrowed, suspicious eyes on the gate, giving unhappy grumbles now and then.

Of course, the universe never lets him rest for long. On Friday night, Hobi texts him at eight, “Bar! You have two hours to mentally prepare! I will see you there or else!!!”

Namjoon texts back, “you need to calm down with the exclamation points”. But he still turns to eye his open closet, pondering what to wear.

–

Sometimes, Namjoon just watches people. People watching is a thing, right? He catches himself at it all the time - at train stations, on campus, in malls, and here - now - at the bar. 

He watches throngs of young women mix onto and away from the dance floor, ebbing and flowing like high and low tide, like they obey the moon too. He watches men his age eye the scene like hawks.

He watches the bartenders hustle from one end to another, hands in constant motion as they exchange money, clutch shakers, wipe out glasses, open beers. He watches the bouncer sweep his gaze over the crowd, like a seaside lifeguard. 

He watches Hobi and Yoongi bend their heads together, talking animatedly over something on Hobi’s phone. He watches Jungkook and Jimin dance near the edge of the crowd, peeking surreptitiously over their shoulders to see if any of the girls near them are looking. He watches Jin throw his head back in laughter at whatever the pretty girl before him has said. 

He watches you lean forward on your elbows, eyes on Taehyung’s face like they’re magnetically drawn, as he talks to you. You both laugh at something; you finish your drink. Namjoon watches as Taehyung leans over to say something to you, slides off of his barstool, makes his way towards the dark hallway that houses the restrooms. You flag down a bartender, ordering a new drink. 

You aren’t watching Taehyung make his way back from the bathroom, but Namjoon is. He watches as Taehyung is intercepted by a beautiful, dark-haired girl who stands only as tall as the middle of his chest. He watches as Taehyung stops in his tracks, a grin slowly growing across his face, starting sly and ending open and friendly. It’s deadly, and Namjoon knows he knows it.

Namjoon sees it happen when the girl cocks her head towards the front entrance, sees it when Taehyung nods and leans down to say something to her before zig-zagging his way through the crowd back to where you sit, waiting for him.

Namjoon sees it when your smile crumples, when you quickly stitch it back together and nod eagerly, when you wave goodbye. He sees it when Taehyung and his date slip out the front door, sees it when you let your head drop to your hands, shoulders heaving with one single deep breath. 

When you raise your head again, your eyes meet his. 

And he sees it - all of it. He sees the crushing disappointment, the resignation, the acceptance. 

He’s moving without making the decision to move, his beer glass cold against his hand as he makes his way to the empty spot next to you. 

“Sorry,” he says, not hiding that he’d seen exactly what happened, had witnessed Taehyung abandon you for preferred company. 

You give yourself a little shake and give him a tiny smile. “Don’t be,” you say easily. “Good for him - I wish I had half his luck.”

Namjoon wouldn’t say he knows you that well if he was asked, doesn’t think himself an expert on your personality. But he knows it’s bravado. He can just tell. 

But he’ll let you save face. He’d want the same. 

He struggles to find something to talk to you about. His brain goes empty, like static, the second he relies on it. Finally, as you stir the ice cubes around your drink, trying not to look as dejected as you feel, he asks, “How’s senior thesis going? What are the criteria for poetry students?”

You perk up, sitting up straighter and releasing the plastic straw you’d had pinched between your fingers. “It’s going okay,” you tell him, glancing over sideways at him like you want to make sure he’s actually interested in the answer, not just asking to be polite. “The criteria? It’s half a written portfolio, half an author study.”

“Who’d you pick?” Namjoon asks, taking a sip of his beer and finding it low. 

You smile at him mischievously, eyes sparkling a little. “Guess,” you challenge.

He feels himself smile in return. “Rumi,” he shoots out.

Your laugh bursts from you, surprising both of you. “That’s your first guess?” you laugh. “Seriously? Going straight to Rumi?”

“Am I wrong?” he asks, chuckling. 

“Yes,” you insist. “Try again.”

He ponders it for a second. “Whitman. Yeats. Eliot.”

“Absolutely not,” you say. “Quit naming dead white dudes.”

Namjoon laughs again. “Poe?”

“Still a dead white dude!”

He stops, thinks again. “Olds,” he finally guesses.

You raise your eyebrows. “Wow, obscure.”

He shrugs. “She seems like your type.”

You laugh at that, a peal of laughter that has you hunching over your drink. “You’re not wrong about that,” you admit. 

“I think you need to just tell me,” Namjoon admits.

“Surely you know more poets than that!” you tease accusingly. 

“Of course I do,” he allows. “But I think this little game could go on for a very long time.”

You laugh again, and Namjoon feels a smile tug at his lips. 

He growls a mental shut up at the part of him that wants to keep making you laugh.

“St Vincent Millay,” you say, caving.

“Wow,” he says, just a bit struck dumb. Because what are the odds you’d pick her? “A favorite.”

You smile at him, eyes crinkling. “You know hers?”

Namjoon is pretty sure he has a copy of Alms stuffed between pages of his favorite notebook, a memento to his post-Elyse days, when he was - yes - listening to Beside Me on repeat and reading every heartbreak poem he could get his hands on, all in the name of feeling understood. All in the name of feeling less alone.

“My heart is what it was before, / a house where people come and go; / But it is winter with your love -” Namjoon quotes from Alms instead of answering.

You keep your eyes on him, steady, as you finish in a quiet voice, “The sashes are beset with snow. Alms? I wrote about that one for my thesis the other day.”

Namjoon catches the bartender’s eye. “If I get a few shots, do you want one?” he asks, looking over at you. You nod, he orders something cinnamony, and then he returns to your earlier conversation. “Alms is one of the only ones of hers I can quote off the top of my head. But it’s… my favorite of hers.”

You give him a sly smile. “I argued in my thesis that Alms is a diss-track.”

Namjoon splutters. “What?” he demands. 

You grin, loving this. “It is winter with your love? Like, tell me your lover is cold without telling me your lover is cold. Plus, all those lines in the middle about how she tends her plants in winter? Of course that’s your favorite.”

As the bar-tender pushes filled shot-glasses towards him, Namjoon just stares at you. You have this uncanny way of knowing things about him, and it’s unnerving. Partly because he doesn’t know that much about you, and partly because he hadn’t realized he was so easy to read.

You each take a shot glass, clicking them together before knocking them back. The burn of alcohol in his throat urges him to speak up, to address it.

“You remember how you mentioned that I tend to hit the desk when I'm happy with what I wrote?”

You frown with your whole face, brows and all, not following his line of thought at all. “...Yeah…” you say, voice wavering with uncertainty.

Namjoon looks away, at the wood of the bar beneath his fingers, at the crowd of people shouting their conversations around them, at the empty glasses waiting to be whisked away. “What else do you know?” 

He’s not sure what makes him say it. Maybe he’s tired of you dropping these little observations here and there and wants them all out at once. 

You trace a whorl in the wood with your pointer finger. Thoughtfully, voice sounding somewhat far away, you tell him, “You pace when you’re stuck. You listen to rap when it’s flowing and classical when it’s not.”

Namjoon lets out a single, shuttering laugh, barely louder than an exhale. “I’m trying to think of a less rude way to ask this, but why - how - do you know this stuff?”

You twist your mouth sideways into the cousin of a smile, self-deprecation written all over your face. “I spend a lot of time in the living room,” you say defensively with a bit of a laugh. “I can’t help but notice. You’re not very secretive.”

That’s the thing. Namjoon thought he was.

You sit in silence for a minute, the loudness of the bar’s music and chatter flowing around you. Then, completely unprompted, you add, “I know that poem you sent me is about your ex.”

Namjoon’s head snaps up, his eyes finding yours. He searches your face for anything unkind, anything mocking. Elyse had made him feel stupid - something he had very little experience with - and he was evading that feeling every second since. But there’s none to be found as you look back at him patiently.

“Y/N,” he says finally, “don’t take this the wrong way, but what the fuck.”

Once you’re sure he isn’t going to get mad or defensive, you relax, shooting him a knowing smirk. “Please,” you protest. “The line about how you can’t get hurt because you had no expectations? A juxtaposition to when you have certain expectations of a partner, and how it hurts when they’re not met. Like expecting someone to love you back, and then they don’t.”

“I think I need to be rescued from this conversation,” Namjoon jokes, pretending to look around for a life-line. “Quit it with the direct shots!”

You shrug innocently. “I’m not making any judgments about it. Just saying I understand the message.”

“How many drinks have you had?” Namjoon demands.

“I don’t know… three or four? Why?”

He can’t say because you’re saying very honest shit and people are usually polite enough to not do that. “You’re just… dropping words like juxtaposition and I…. truly don’t know how to handle it.”

You give him a wide smile, proud and teasing. “Just admit that I have a big, sexy brain.”

If this is the game you want to play, he thinks, he can play it. 

“Well,” he counters, “I know that your poem about the graveyard is actually about -” He snaps his mouth shut, sober enough to know a mistake when he’s shin-deep in it, buzzed enough to fail at stopping his gaze from flicking over to where Taehyung and that girl had disappeared through the front door. 

He watches - literally watches it happen - as a wall crashes down over your face. The open, teasing expression flattens into dull nothingness, your smile melts into a thin line, your eyes leave his and settle on your hands.

Namjoon opens his mouth to apologize, but the heavy weight of someone’s arm across his shoulders distracts him. 

“Are you two talking about poetry?” Hobi asks, voice a touch too loud. “We already have a resident nerd, Y/N, we don’t need another.”

You grasp at the interruption desperately. “Not just any poetry. His poetry.”

Hobi gasps dramatically, clutching at his chest like a wounded man. “He let you read his own poetry? My God.”

Namjoon sits back, allows Hobi and Yoongi to incorporate themselves into the conversation, lets the moment slip away. He zones entirely out of the conversation, lost in his own thoughts, letting the others pick up his slack.

He’s thinking about Alms and thinking about Elyse, thinking about how St Vincent Millay’s line “But it is winter with your love” had rolled around his brain for a solid month as he was wrestling with the insecurity and pain of loving someone who just didn’t feel it too. Elyse hadn’t been cold - at least, not until the very end. Yet, even still, it had never been… enough. 

He’s thinking about the way you just noticed things about him, the way you made him feel seen when he was used to feeling the opposite. 

He’s thinking, and it’s probably a little fucked up, that Elyse had lived with him for over three months - sharing a bed, even - and had never picked up on his mannerisms this way.

He keys back into the conversation when he notices you signing to close out your card.

“Are you going home?” he asks you, the first words he’s said in a while. Both Yoongi and Hobi turn to look at him, as if they, too, forgot he was sitting there. 

“Yeah,” you tell him. You meet his eyes, but your voice is still a little flat. “I was gonna Uber.”

“Wanna share?” he suggests.

You look at your hands again. “You don’t have to leave just because I’m leaving,” you say. 

Hobi and Yoongi swivel their heads back and forth in silence, watching this conversation like a table-tennis match.

“I’m ready to go. But I can get my own ride if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No,” you say quickly. “I’m not. That would… that’s fine.”

You say goodbye to the guys and Namjoon follows you through the bar. He’s tempted to reach out a hand and guide you, help you navigate the drunken, dancing crowd. But you aren’t his to protect, and he’s just this minute starting to examine where the urge comes from, what’s blooming here, a tiny bud forming seemingly overnight.

Outside, the silence hits him like the slap of an ocean wave. The night is warm, despite it being late October. 

You walk silently towards the curb, phone in your hand. You don’t look back at him.

“Y/N,” he says quietly. You glance over your shoulder, frosty, but you soften almost instantly when you look at him. The apology must be clear as day on his face. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

You sag with a sigh. “No,” you say. “I asked for it. I started it. You’re not supposed to dish it if you can’t take it, or something.”

Namjoon doesn’t agree or disagree, doesn’t shake his head. He just keeps his gaze on you, heavy and serious, and repeats, “I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

You drop your eyes again - he’s noticing you do that when you’re nervous, unsure of your words. Then, eyes on the road instead of on him, you say, “Assuming I was right about… you know, the poem… I’m sorry you went through that.”

Namjoon raises his eyes, up past the bar’s neon sign, up past the yellow-lit apartment windows above it, up past the fire escape and the rusty rooftop structures. He finds stars, glinting and joking from behind swiftly moving wisps of clouds. 

“Thanks,” he says. That’s all.

“It’s hard when the people we love…” you trail off, rub your hands up and down your arms as if to ward off chill on a definitively unchilly night. “It’s hard when they disappoint us. For whatever reason.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says. The Uber pulls up, and you check the license plate against what’s on your phone screen before reaching for the back door. He’s got that same urge again, to reach out and guide you into the car. He shifts his hand into a fist, wills himself to get his shit together. As you slide over to make room for him, he lets one last breath out towards those same stars. “Yeah, it is.”

– 

Inside the Uber, you scoot to make room for Namjoon to slide in next to you, folding his long legs in behind the front passenger seat. 

The ride begins in silence, except for the driver’s music, which currently plays an advertisement in a language you don’t speak and can’t even identify. 

You feel a little dizzy, maybe from the drinks. Maybe from getting vulnerable with your roommate. You lean your head back against the headrest and close your eyes. You can feel the heat from Namjoon’s side, can sense him, solid, less than a foot away. 

“You okay?” he asks, voice low, to keep the conversation as close to private as possible.

You open your eyes, looking sideways at him. He looks back at you, searchingly. You’re struck for the first time, here in the back of a stranger’s shitty Kia, by how pretty his eyes are - full of warmth and depth, but also something sly, like he constantly knows something you don’t, yet. 

Looking at him, you’re tempted to lean against him; the desire comes out of nowhere, comes from the surety you feel that he would feel… safe. Protective. You feel sure he wouldn’t move away. 

What is this? you wonder. It’s just a moment, just a fleeting thing that will be gone by the next red light, but as tiny as it is, there’s a voice in your head pointing out that you haven’t felt this kind of anything for anyone in your whole life except Kim Taehyung. 

You fold your hands in your lap, turn to look straight ahead through the windshield. You can’t lie to him while looking at him.

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m fine.”

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thank you so much for reading!!!! we're past the set up, stuff is movin!!!! please consider some type of feedback, even just 'loved it!' or a keysmash lets me know it's not hot garbage!

Section IV will post on Friday, February 3rd. I hope to see you there!!!!

AIRPLANE

💕Pairing: Namjoon x Reader 

✏️Genre/au: Canon, Smut, Idol x Idol AU

✏️Rating: PG 18+, explicit

📝Wordcount: 2849

⚠️chapter warnings: Explicit smut, daddy kink, dom behaviour

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Hii! Did you stumble across this work? Glad you're here 😊 Please, let me know your thoughts once you are finished. Feedback keeps me motivated to write 😁

Note that English is not my first language, so please if you find grammar mistakes, let me know. :)

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It wasn’t very often that you would intentionally piss him off and besides his passive-aggressive attitude when something bothered him, his jaw-clenching was a difficult thing to see.

Either way, it was something that turned you on. Every time you would see him do that, even though it wasn’t something related to good, something inside of you awakened. Like a sinful pleasure. Like the extra piece of your favourite cake that you take because you deserve it but the little devil in you tells you that you’re gonna regret it later. Still, you love it.

So this time, you took pleasure in pushing his nerves a little bit while working. You were sitting at the table in front of each other, reading the questions from ARMY when you caressed his leg, using the advantage of being across from him, behind the camera eye. He looked at you over his papers, showing with his dragon eyes and how absolutely not in the mood he was for games. Later today,after the set of the Run special, the boys have to take a flight to New Orleans for the first episode of another Bon Voyage and he is always especially tense before a flight. For that, he snapped more easily.

You gave him an unbothered look, as if you had only done it unintentionally, although he went back to read, he wasn’t buying it. Then when he seemed to relax, you did it again, starting from his toe to the inside of his knee between his legs, and he closed them, without looking. You weren’t staring at him either as you read, but you noticed his hand on your ankle, gripping it and you flick your eyes up only to notice his warning look from the same position and how his jaw clenched.

Deciding to not bust your boyfriend's balls to a point of settling on a possible argument, you decided to leave him alone at that point. But as soon as you got onto the plane, the veto was over.

You walk through the plane observing the members take their seats before you reach yours. Namjoon’s eyes are on your every move as he sits diagonally from you, in a seat opposite to the direction yours is facing. By the way he looks at you, the awareness that you are in a closed space with nowhere to run to, enlightens your mind and you realise you have played with fire without an extinguisher by you. Only your flesh and bones to go through the flames.

When the flying vehicle reaches stability in the sky you find the moment to escape to the service area, anything to get away from the insistent glare of your boyfriend who has no intention to back off on the game you have started. He follows you there and stares at you in silence as he turns on the kettle and heats water for tea, you guess. The hostess offers to help with the food service but you both excuse her politely and keep going with the motions. You make yourself a cappuccino and rest against the edge of the counter; he takes his chance to enclose you in that position and he looks through the cabinets for something without even looking inside. His eyes keep on you as he invades your personal space further and you just give the glare back taking the mug to your mouth. ‘If this is going to be our fifteen hour trip, I’m screwed.’ you think, finally taking your eyes away from him in surrender, but not before you see him arch and eyebrow and also rest at the opposite counter. ‘Oh god… this is going to be a long flight.’

.

Some time later, mostly everyone is sleeping in their seats. Namjoon isn’t sleeping, trying to avoid the jet lag by staying awake, with a book in his hand as he sits cosy in his place. You look at him with endearment, his focus completely in the characters written in the pocket size version of a book, with a slay frown. A smile draws on your lips before you put down the notebook you were using to write down lyrics, or at least the outline of what can be good rhymes for the song you are preparing in the studio. You close it and put the pen on top of it. You hope Namjoon doesn’t get to see the secrecy in them until the whole album is out, but it’s practically impossible that he doesn’t, at least, get a hint of them when your group is buzzing over the beat and flow that the recording has.

Invested in your thoughts, you make use of the door next to yours and Sohyung’s seats to reach the ensuite bathroom inside the room. Taehyung and Jimin sleep in the bed tangled to each other cutely with dimmed lights that allow you to close the door and reach the bathroom, seeing your path comfortably.

After relieving yourself, you take time cleaning your hands and your face, using a bamboo disposable toothbrush to wash your teeth with the thought of taking a small nap. However, as soon as you open the door, you are face to face with a tall figure that pushes you inside the three piece space before you can even process who he is and locks the door behind himself.

“Namjoon– You scared me!” you whisper loudly, thoughtful to not interrupt the rest of the sleeping men at the other side of the thin walls.

He has you caged against the sink between his bulky arms and lowers his upper body to get at your eye level, dragon eyes on you like you are prey. That stare that he reserves only for you.

“Joon-ah are you okay?” you ask feigning innocence, playing along. “Do you need to use the bathroom?” But his stare doesn’t minimise its intensity.

“You think you're funny, right?” he asks with that natural deep voice of his. “Playing your little games while we are working knowing that I can't do anything about it.” Finally the rabbit is out of the hole and running free inside the room.

“Maybe?” you reply, playful, with a smirk. Never retreating your eyes from his.

“Yeah,” he chuckles and your skin raises in goosebumps when he closes his mouth and clenches his jaw again. “Do you think you're going to get away with it?”

Your smirk grows wider showing your pearly whites and you nod, raising your brows slightly, daring. His response has your eyes lowering to his lips where his tongue plays at the centre of them, moisturising the surface in another annoyed gesture.

“Hm.”

That’s all he says before he slowly leans with his pelvis against yours, hard on in full bust in between the fabrics of your sweatpants and he leans for a kiss to which you surrender. But as soon as his lips are about to touch yours and you move your arms up to his shoulders, he pulls fully away and moves to unlock the door. Your first instinct responds by grabbing one of the baggy sleeves of his hoodie, to prevent him from opening the door, and he turns around.

“Hm?” He arches an eyebrow, inquisitive.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper without letting go of the soft fabric.

“Hm? What?” The way he lowers his chin and curves his neck forward, makes you understand he heard you just fine but he wants you to repeat it.

“I’m sorry, babe,” you tell him, lowering your chin and making big pleading eyes for him.

“Babe?” he snorts and shakes his head raising his brows. You detect he’s about to turn around and leave by the way his body sways back.

“Daddy…” you whisper, changing your expresion to unbothered, only your eyes hinting your intentions.

He seems automatically paralysed from head to toe , looking at you with slightly bulged eyes. It’s the first time you call him that and he surely wasn’t expecting it when he mocked the nickname. He expected you to pull him again and pout for a bit until you got your way, but this wasn’t at all what he thought. In your case, you weren’t expecting his next move.

Without a word he’s all over you, mouth demanding yours to move against it, hands pulling your body, your clothes until you are against the wall of the open shower. His lower body is so hard against yours that you think he’ll mould you into another form. His tongue intrudes in such intensity, brushing your tongue in circles and finding your palate to make it deeper, that you moan slightly over the torturous muscle. His throat vibrates with a chuckle but he doesn’t stop or slow down until your hands crease the hoodie at the sides from all the grabbing, trying to get a hold of yourself from the dizzying experience.

He parts his lips staying an inch from your mouth, his breathing as unsteady as yours while his hands are tightly gripping at your waist. The idea of possible bruises in the area are the least of your problems when he turns you around and presses his shaft between your cheeks, pressing your front against the wall. He kisses your head and groans, thoughtful, or that’s what you can tell. He’s evaluating the risks, if it’s worth getting caught joining the mile club to get a tingle off.

It would be embarrassing to you too and you know that since he’s the one who has begun the move, he has in mind how it might affect you too. But you want it, you want him to push it in you and be accountable for this transgression. At least once, do something that goes against what anyone would expect from you. Not even yourselves. You move your hips, bringing your hands to his and just like that condemn any conscience he was making use of.

It’s memorable how quick his hand is in between your panties and skin. His index and middle finger are quick to find the moisture his actions have created in between your folds and he grunts, moving his hips against your cheeks again. He uses his now wet fingers to draw circles on your clit just as quickly and you close your eyes, trying to keep quiet while also allowing the pleasure to build. But the moment you feel his shaft trace the curve again you move one hand from his hip to the waistband.

He seems to read your intentions because his fingers stop for a second as he separates his lower body from you and you reach underneath his boxers to his shaft. The moisture in it, from the precum, draws a smile of pride on your face and you rub your thumb over the tip to massage the sensitive area. You hear his breath falter, making you chuckle.

You feel his hand leave your pelvic area and attempt to look at him in wonder before he uses both hands to pull down your undergarments. He’s just as quick with his own and when you see him take you by the wrist to put your hand away, you simply let him take control.

His head finds your folds and intrudes in between them slowly, aware that the delicacy of the situation might show in your body like an opposition, even moist. The hand that was previously exploring you returns to its duty in means to ease the intrusion and do damage control if he slips out. The other hand is his hook point to hold your body steady at the waist.

His slide fills you up, bare against your walls, gripping him like a vice, you can almost tell his form through the wetness and he doesn’t stop until his tip kisses your cervix, making you close your hands into fists over the grey surface of fake tiles. There’s no pain to it, however, he doesn’t push it further. He just pecks it, owning the whole space inside you where he fits so well.

He allows his chest to press against your shoulder blades and kisses your head again. “You feel so good…” he mutters in that almost unintelligible deepness his voice can reach.

“You too, babe,” you respond, mindlessly.

He twitches and says something again but this time you don’t understand it, or don’t really have the time to figure out the words because he pulls out to the middle and bangs in. The arm on your waist snakes up to cover your mouth with that big hand and muffle the gasp you let out when he hits bottom.

“Daddy.” he demands against your ear, letting the voice be raspy against his vocal cords.

He doesn’t move, only eases the pressure of his girth in you, awaiting for an answer. You nod obediently, having never experienced this side of him. His mouth retires from your face and he starts to thrust in you. He’s slow with measure, pacing at the same speed he is letting his fingers work and you rest your forehead on the wall. “Oh daddy…” you mutter unintentionally sultry, out of desire.

His hips snap against you and your eyes bulge when he suddenly speeds up. His hand snakes up again and he uses his forearm as his only hold of you as he tries to keep himself as silent as possible too, but grumbling behind you.. His efforts with your bud and the speed finally catch up with you and you clench around him, reaching for his hair as you hold your breath repeatedly to not scream. The thrusts don’t stop there, and he takes you in his arms by the thighs without pulling out, letting your feet set on the floor as you reach the sink and pushing your upper body over the counter. His hand returns to muffle you while the other holds you by the hips and he snaps inside you over and over until you are a whiny mess underneath him.

.

“Hold on a little bit more, baby. There goes another one…” he mutters and your eyes bulge again with the forth orgasm, prickling tears in your eyes. The hand at your hips has long abandoned your soft flesh for the wetness of your button where he doesn’t desist with his ministrations. This time, though, you’ve had enough of it and try to pull away from him, get him off or out by struggling, but the wet hand lands at your back and presses you in place. He snaps his hips with yours again and doesn’t move, still hard like iron inside of you. “What was that?” he asks, pulling his hand away from your mouth. It’s humid from your breath, the whole bathroom could be, if it wasn’t for the ventilation.

“Please, I can’t–with another one…” you mutter breathlessly.

He leans over putting his mouth in your ear as your head is tilted. “Will you behave then? Will you stop playing games when I can’t respond?” he inquires, nibbling on the earlobe and you almost groan.

“I will.”

“Good girl,” he replies as he stands straight. “Now try to be quiet.”

He takes hold of your waist to push in you and you use your own hands to cover up the unavoidable little sounds that his relentless pace makes you do. He is merciless and your overstimulation covers up the growing sensation inside of you. His hips snap one last time and he reduces the pace as he starts emptying himself inside, biting his lower lip so hard, as you see it in the mirror, that you are worried he’ll burst it. It’s then, when he pushes deep inside your core and he hits the end that the ditch of pleasure spills. You squirm underneath him. It’s not as strong as the other’s but with how spent you are, it’s lethal, and it makes you dizzy.

“Are you ok?” he says, pulling out and making you stand, turning you around in his arms. You nod but you lean against him as you try to regain your breath. “I’m sorry, baby… Did I go too hard on you?” His hands rest on your arms as he searches your stare with his eyes.

“I’ll be okay,” you say and a little chuckle escapes with the statement. His arms surround you as you meet his eyes and he presses you against his body, soothingly rubbing a hand at your back. You let your head fall over his chest, listening to his heart as it starts calming down but then realise where you are and move away. “We should clean ourselves.”

.

As soon as you walk out of the bathroom, you see Jimin in bed with his phone. Taehyung is still in deep sleep with a leg over him but Jimin is very awake. He looks at you and as he’s putting his phone away he chuckles while covering his mouth. When Namjoon comes out of the bathroom Jimin just starts laughing and turns his face shyly .

“Oh shut up,” you and Namjoon say in unison.

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I hope you enjoyed this. Let me know your thoughts and reblog to let it spread 😊 See you soon! ~

Thank you @moonleeai for the beta work 💕💜

Little do You Know | OT7 | Ninety Two

Pair: Bangtan (ot7) x f!reader 

Summary: In a world where idols and actors can’t date, whether it be because of contracts, lack of time, or the dangers that involve having your personal life leaked, the market opened up for a new work field. Playmate Agencies emerged to supply the entertainment world with highly trained companions for hire. Bangtan is looking for new playmates. And you just happen to be the one all of them choose. 

Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, playmate au, idol au. 

Chapter warnings: A doctor visit, the start of the HYBE summer program and Hobi’s rehearsing for Hobipalooza. I know you’ve been wanting to see the TXT babies! 

WC: 3.7k

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Going to the gynecologist was at the top of your list of worst things you had to do. The exams were always uncomfortable and invasive and you really hated having your blood taken. But you still liked Dr. Choi a lot more than the old doctor all playmates had to go to when you worked at Nolichingu. 

Especially when receiving news you weren’t expecting. 

But the middle aged woman had answered all your questions patiently, as well as explained what would be the next steps and made sure to assure you everything would be alright. So when you left her office, you weren’t freaking out. 

You kept telling yourself you were in a good place financially, you had a lot of time on your hands, and you had seven boyfriends that loved you and supported you. And things would be okay. You just hoped this wouldn’t be in the way of any future plans. 

As you rode the elevator down to the garage floor, you texted Hana to give her a summary of what the doctor had told you and check if she was already there. 

You were perfectly capable of driving yourself, of course, but she had a lunch date with Eunwoo near HYBE, and she knew she was the only one you had told about this appointment, so she offered to give you a ride just in case you needed someone to be there for you. 

Finding her car in the underground garage was easy, she had parked near the elevators and blinked the headlights when she saw you looking around. 

“Hey, boo, how did it go?” your best friend was asking as you slipped into the front seat of her car. 

“Uncomfortable.”

“But is everything okay?” she checked just to make sure.

“Yeah, well… Okay as can be, I guess. At least it’s confirmed now.”

The AC of the car was on, it was a very hot summer day outside. Hana pointed one of the air vents to you as she asked: “And how do you feel about it?”

“Surprisingly I’m not freaking out.” you chuckled. At least for now your nerves were under control. 

“What will you tell the boys?”

“Nothing yet.”

“Boo, don’t you think they should know?” your friend definitely didn’t agree with your decision. 

“Sure, but if I tell them now, they are just  going to freak out. And Hobi has his launch party in three days and he’s nervous as it is. Not to mention the Lollapalooza concert, and the trip to Busan, it’s just too much. Plus, this isn’t a big deal.”

“Not a big deal, you’re going to have a–”

“I’m going to be late if we just sit here.” you cut her off, not wanting to be reminded of just what you’d be having. “Shall we go?” 

Hana hit you with a look that let you know she thought keeping it hidden from them was not the best idea, but she got the car moving nonetheless. It’s not as if you didn’t plan on ever telling them. You kinda had to. Just not right now. 

Your friend started driving, leaving the clinic through a back door. She had been the one insisting to let security know beforehand who you were and asking for privacy. And you were thankful for her, more often than not forgetting people knew your face and your name, and that Koreaboo and Dispatch would have a field day if they saw you leaving a place like this. 

You were well on the way to HYBE when Hana’s phone started ringing, connected to the bluetooth system of her car. You could read the contact name ‘Eunwoo Baby’ and had to stop a squeal from leaving your lips when she sent you a look. 

“Hiiiii.” she answered with a press of a button. 

“Hi, baby, are you close?” the idol greeted and you bit your lips to stop another noise. 

“Not yet, still dropping Ynie off at HYBE. She can hear you.” 

“Hi, Eunwoo-ssiiiiiii.” you sang teasingly, hearing his laugh and your best friend’s scoff. 

“Hey, Yn.” he said with a new laugh. “Alright, I was just checking in. Drive safe babe. See you Thursday, Yn.”

“See you!” 

“Bye, baby.” your friend said with pink cheeks. 

The call fell through and you counted until five, basking in the silence that was anything but awkward. When Hana opened her mouth to speak, you giggled and teased her:

“Baby?! Oh my god, you are soooo dating!” 

“Stoooop.” 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” you poked her as the car came to a halt on a red light. 

“We were going to tell you at the party!” Hana batted your hands away. “And it’s not like we can go official either.”

“Why not?!” 

“Eunwoo is not allowed to date. And the moment Hyeon finds out, he’ll have me moved to another idol.” she explained and your heart broke for her. “He’s not about to lose another high level playmate when he’s not over losing you. So keeping it hidden is the only way for us to be together.”

“I’m sorry, I know that’s rough.” you gave her arm a little squeeze. “It won’t be like that forever, okay?” 

“We know, it’s alright.” 

Ten minutes and many questions about Hana and her new boy later, your best friend parked in front of the tall building that felt like a second home to you at this point. As you removed your seatbelt and grabbed your purse from the backseat, Hana checked:

“Do you need me to pick you up later?”

“Nah, I’m sure I’ll run into one of the boys in there and just go home with them.” you smiled, assuring her you’d be okay. “Don’t worry, I’m okay.”

“Alright. If you feel anything–”

“I’ll call you, I know.”

“No, girl, you tell your men what’s going on!” 

You left Hana with a kiss on the cheek and departed from her car, making your way into the familiar building. You still had ten minutes before the Welcoming Brunch was set to start, the kicking off to the two week Summer Program at HYBE Corp. 

You weren’t sure you’d have any lectures today, since the email with the packed schedule for the program only spoke of a hang out with a few of the professionals that would be working with you during the program, as well as the introduction to how it worked and a special guest appearance. 

All seven of your boyfriends assured you they weren’t the special guest coming over, all understanding of your reservations and supportive of your career; however none-existing it was at this point. 

“Good morning, Yn-ssi.” the nice girl at the front desk greeted you when you approached her with a smile, after bowing to all of the security people at the lobby; all whom you knew and knew you. “I got your new pass ready.”

“Oh, thank you, Yeji-ssi. I wasn’t sure I should use my regular visitor's one.”

That was putting it nicely, of course. The security card you had, had been gifted to you by Sejin when you came back into the boys’ lives as their girlfriend and not as a playmate. It was one that allowed you into floors, rooms and facilities that the regular visitor’s pass, and even most staff passes didn’t open. 

“You can still use it, but I’d keep it hidden.” the woman explained. “Here you go. You can go straight to floor ten, you know the way.” 

“Yeah, thank you so much.” 

You slipped your special card into your purse and put the new one around your neck, hoping it would make you blend in enough with the other program attendees. Once inside the elevator, you remembered to take the small, round band aid off the band of your elbow. The last thing you needed were curious eyes trying to guess just what for you had your blood taken for. 

Once on the tenth floor, it was easy to find the group you were supposed to join. Nine people, between boys and girls, were waiting at the lounge. You got a few double takes as you joined them and said your good mornings, but no one really seemed to care, which made you relax as you sat down on a single seat armchair. 

You put your phone down when you heard heels and heavier steps entering the lounge, looking up to see a man and a woman dressed in comfortable clothes. Their presence, however, still demanded attention and respect, so you knew they were important. 

“Good morning, everyone.” the woman had a nice smile on her red lips. “Please follow us and let’s get started.” 

You followed your peers quietly, trying to blend in as much as possible. 

The group was taken into one of the office spaces on the tenth floor, a room you had been to before. You couldn’t tell if it was when the Dispatch photo of you and Kook came out, or when Sejin brought you in to talk about the magazine cover you were featured on –without your knowledge– or even when giving out your statement about the Jia and Mina case. 

Being inside an office with one of HYBE’s lawyers wasn’t a rare feature for you.

But the room was set up differently this morning, with the big, round table pushed to the back to hold a lot of food and drinks, and chairs were lined up at the front of the room, facing a projector. As all of you took a seat, you were left between a boy and a girl who looked to be a little younger than you. Maybe even younger than Jungkook. 

“Oh goodness, can you believe we’re really here?” the girl on your right was gushing, looking around with stars in her eyes. “Everything is so big!”

“It is, isn’t it?” you smiled in what you hoped would come off as a friendly smile. 

You were trying to stay positive, trying to convince yourself that not everyone you would meet in your life would have bad intentions or try to take advantage of you or sell a story to the press. It was a task easier said than done, but you knew you would never have this opportunity again, so you would push yourself not to retrieve into an imaginary corner within yourself. 

“I’m Sumni.” the girl introduced herself, fleeting eyes too excited by her surroundings to really focus on you. 

“Yn. Nice to meet you.” 

This was usually the time someone would look at your face and wonder if you were actually The Yn, but Sumni only gave you a little nod and focused on the projector again. It had just been turned on as the woman in heels and a red lip took the front of the room. 

“It is a pleasure to welcome you all to the HYBE Summer Program of 2022!” she said excitedly, clapping her hands once in celebration. “My name is Chae, and I’ll be one of your supervisors.” 

Chae went on about HYBE’s history, of how it was born as Big Hit, but evolved through the years and it was so much more than an entertainment company at this point. Much more than the home for global superstars. As she spoke about the company and explained more about the program you were all starting today, the projector showed pictures and well designed slides that showcased photos and videos relating to what she was talking about. 

“On your way out you’ll all receive a goodie bag with some welcoming gifts and your schedule for the next two weeks. You’ll have the chance to see the real behind the scenes of our marketing team, watch meetings, and be challenged to create your own projects for a chance to pitch your ideas for our very own team.” Chae told everyone and you felt like you were in line for a rollercoaster. “We have more surprises for you during the week, but the first one…”

Chae looked at the man waiting by the door, who gave her a small thumbs up. 

“Well, why don’t we let our guests tell you?” the woman nodded to her partner, who opened the door of the conference room. “Come on in, boys.” 

For a whole second your blood ran cold, fearing the apparition of your boyfriends. But they kept to their word and weren’t the surprise guest. The five members of Tomorrow x Together walked in, gaining squeals and claps from the group of students. You hadn’t seen them in quite a while, so you were excited to have them there. 

“ONE DREAM. Hello, we are TXT.” the boys did their introduction, bowing to the ten of you. 

Soobin was the first to start speaking: “We were invited here today to give you guys a warm welcome and say congratulations for being selected as part of this year’s Summer Program.” 

“And to let you know that three of you will have an amazing opportunity at the end of the two weeks.” Kai said, making gasps and chirping noises fill the room. 

“That is right!” Yeonjun smiled brightly, and a little mischievously. “By the end of the program, three of you will be selected for an internship here at HYBE, where you’ll be part of our own team, to work closely with us and start your careers in a grand way.” 

Of course HYBE would pull off something like this. Hiring three pupils on the spot, young people they saw potential in. New blood they could mold to their likings, much like they did to idols in their trainee stages. And of course no one would deny that opportunity, since having an internship at HYBE as part of their resume would open many doors. 

After Chae and TXT answered some questions, the brunch was served and the five idols were allowed to stick around. In true young boy manner, they were invited to stay and eat, which gave you all the chance to talk to them and get to know them better. 

You tried keeping to yourself, not wanting to take away the opportunity of someone else to meet the idols, when you already knew them well. But of course two of them found their way to you after signing some autographs. 

“Noona!” Taehyun practically skipped towards you, giving you a hug while you tried to swallow a small tuna sandwich. “We didn’t know you’d be here!” 

“Hey, guys.” you hugged Beomgyu next. “It’s good to see you.” 

Running into the five boys at HYBE was common to you, whether as a playmate, or Bangtan’s girlfriend, you could always count on your luck to see at least one of them around. All were much younger than you, and they absolutely looked up to your boyfriends, which made them have this huge respect for you in comparison. They felt like younger brothers to you, always excited to see you too.

“Are you guys excited for Lolla?” you asked, watching as they almost started buzzing at the mention of Lollapalooza at the end of the month. 

“So excited!” Beomgyu almost jumped in place. “Are you going to be there, noona?” 

“Yeah, I think Hobi and I will already be there by the time you guys perform.” 

“We caught a bit of hyung rehearsing, his performance is gonna be epic!” Taehyun told you. 

And you couldn’t agree more. 

After brunch was eaten and the TXT boys went away to their own dance practice and activities, you and the rest of the alumni had a couple of lectures about the program you were all part of. You met with some staff of the marketing team that had worked with BTS before, some you knew by name and others you’ve seen in passing. 

Overall, you were very excited about this week and the next, knowing you were about to learn a lot. Also, you were nervously interested in the little competition you knew would be going on apart from all the learning and you hoped you stood a chance when it came to the three available spots to join the company. 

“I always thought you’d be working with us.” Jimin was sitting next to you, sporting a cute pout on his plush lips. 

“I did work with you, Minie.” you giggled, looking through the contents of the goodie bag you were gifted after the first day of the program. “Plus, everyone has the same chance when it comes to the three spots available. I’m not so sure I’ll get it.” 

“I’m sure you will. There’s no reason for you not to get it.” 

You had just told your boyfriend about your morning affairs and he was set on the idea that this was just an excuse from HYBE to have a way of hiring you as part of their company again. You were pretty sure he was more than a little biased, but the idea of joining their communications team did bring a nice feeling to your stomach. 

Both you and Jimin were sitting on the floor of the Bangtan practice room, backs resting against the mirror as you had front row seats to watch Hoseok rehearsing for his Lollapalooza concert at the end of the month. It was your third time watching him, but you didn’t think you’d ever grow tired of it. 

At the moment, the older man was watching the playback video of the last run of Equal Sign, hawk eyes trying to find mistakes and weak points so he could fix them, so you and Jimin could talk without bothering him too much. 

“When do you and hyung leave?” Jimin asked as he eyed the goodie bag while you looked over the WE BELIEVE IN MUSIC notebook you found inside it. 

“Right after Busan.” you said, flipping the pages. “Wish more of you were coming too.” 

“Greedy girl, can’t have just one boyfriend with you, huh?” 

You giggled, handing him the notebook and looking inside the bag again. “There’s a reason I have seven boyfriends, you know? Besides, I meant you should come for Hobi.”

“I don’t know, maybe you’ll have a surprise?” 

Those words and his mischievous look made you stop and stare at him, wide eyed. Jimin only winked at you, but you knew him too well to know he was up to something. At this point you wouldn’t be surprised if Jimin had already bought a plane ticket to go to Chicago and surprise you and his hyung at his first solo concert. 

The subject was dropped, however, when your phone started beeping with the alarm going off. 

“Oh, shit.” you turned it off, looking around. 

There was no way you could play this cool, not when Jimin was already sending you a funny look and Hoseok was walking over to you with a tired stance and a bright smile. 

“You have anywhere to be, doll? Thought you were going home with me.” 

“I am, yeah.” you shook your head, picking up your purse and searching for the pills you had to take, popping it out of the little medicine pack without taking it out of your purse. “Just have to take some vitamins, is all.” 

“Are you feeling okay?” Hoseok asked, offering you his own water bottle for you to take your meds. 

Both men watched you nodding as you swallowed the small red and blue pill, pulling a face at the sheer size of it. Jimin had never seen vitamins that size and color, but he knew you didn’t have any reason to lie to them, especially when it came to your health, so he didn’t press you on it. 

Taehyung had asked him earlier today to keep an eye on you, to make sure you ate, rested and didn’t push yourself too hard. It made him wonder if he knew more than he was letting on, but Jimin trusted the both of you to let the rest of them know if something was going on. 

“You can’t get sick on me, we have a party to go to. And a trip together.” Hoseok told you as he squeezed your sides, making you giggle and bat his hands away. 

“I know, my love. I promise I’m fine.” you assured him, trying not to let your guilt transpire. 

You were okay, and you weren’t really sick. But you hated to hide things from them, and your talk with Hana this morning, where she insisted you told your boyfriends what was going on, didn’t really help. But everything would be fine. You’d tell them all soon enough. 

“How’s Jack?” you asked your boyfriend in an attempt to change the subject. 

“The vet managed to save his eye!” Hobi told you with relief, accepting his water bottle back. “I’ll bring him over to your place on friday, if that’s okay.” 

“Wait, wait.” Jimin shook his head, long hair messy from the movements. “What did I miss? Who’s Jack?”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a cat owner now.” you said with an incredulous smile. 

“And… You don’t mean Yoongi hyung?” Jimin blinked. 

“No, but he’s just as cute.” you laughed, turning to Hoseok and booping him on the nose. “Hobi found him on the set of Arson, but he was hurt, so he brought him back to Seoul.” 

“And he just… Gave him to you?” Jimin had a frown on his pretty face. 

You weren’t sure if he was offended that Hobi didn’t give him the cat, or worried about his own allergies. You wondered if he was thinking about the day you all moved in together and living in a house with a cat wouldn’t be the best option for him. So you assured him:

“It’s just temporary, baby. We’re looking for a forever home for him, I’ll just keep him until he’s all healed.” 

“I mean, I could always get shots for my allergies, if you really wanted a cat–” 

“I have a cat.” you turned to him again, head resting on Jimin’s shoulder. “And a puppy-kitty.” 

Jimin went absolutely pink in the face, which was rare for the teasing man. He giggled cutely as Hoseok laughed at the flushed state of his friend. 

“Okay, gonna go back.” the older man said with a long sigh. “Good luck kiss?” 

“Mkay.” 

You puckered your lips for your boyfriend to kiss it before getting up and going back to his work. You felt a small poke to your ribs and turned to see Jimin pouting for you to kiss him too. 

“Am I your good luck charm too?” you teased, gaze following as his tongue licked between his pillowy lips. 

“Always.” 

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Attitude | One-Shot (Namjoon)

anonymous: Hi! I'ma join the drabble game i just saw it on my notifs that i was tagged. Anyways i like your writings and stories so I hope i get to read some more in the future and i only really follow the authors i find that have great writing styles cause I am a bit picky when it comes to that stuff. It’s up to you who’s bts member/members your gonna use but imma request some kinks for the drabble. Spit kink and choking kink please 🥺

Rating/genre: M (18+), established relationship; smut 💖 Pairings: Fem!Reader x Namjoon/RM Warnings: Explicit smut, dom!Namjoon, sub!reader, playful brattiness, size kink, choking, spit kink, manhandling, reader is described as small in comparison to Joon but like he’s a big boy so, he actually picks her up and carries her, fxod mentions Word Count: 1.4k Summary: Your boyfriend is needy. Or are you the needy one? Neither of you really knows. But you’ll both endlessly bug the other about it. 

“Oh my god, stop!” you exclaimed, scoffing through a laugh as Namjoon stole a piping hot bite of the meal you were still cooking. “Can you just wait?”

“You’re so cranky today,” he said through a smile, sliding behind you instead to hook his arms around your waist. 

“Oh, yeah, this is much better,” you noted sarcastically, elbowing him as you stirred to emphasize your point that he was in the way.

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