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persphonesorchid · 6 months

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Orbiting Jupiter - KNJ

Summary: Namjoon has never met someone like you in a long time. Jupiter to his Ganymede; he's stuck in your orbit.

Warnings: Lots of anxiety on Namjoon's part, mentions of being stalked, Namjoon hurts himself more than anything bc he's clumsy. Smut (Minors begone.): Unprotected sex, mutual masterbation, light spit play, Namjoon's daddy kink is a brief topic of interest lol. I think that's all, let me know if i missed any!

Word count: 13.4k

Genre: Idolverse, strangers to lovers, fluff, a bit of angst (it's not much, promise :)) Smut

Notes: FINALLY FINISHED!! This would have been out a whole lot sooner, but i've been dealing with life, stress, a breakup...more stress lol. But it's all good now! I really hope you guys enjoy this, and please leave feedback, even if it's just a little smiley face in the comments! Have a good day!!

Masterlist

Namjoon is dressed casually enough, he thinks. Inconspicuously enough that he won’t be recognized, enough that he could become another face in the crowd; enough to blend in.

It’s early, but the city is bustling with people starting their day. He tries not to be suspicious, as much as he could. Tries to navigate a city he’s been in many times before like he’s lived there his whole life. He tries not to look over his shoulder too much, guard up, like he’s just waiting for someone to run up to him and demand his attention. The mask and hat he picked out before he sneaked out of his hotel room brought him little comfort. He hopes that no one would give him a second glance or look too closely.

To this day he’d never understand how his fans can tell him apart by the way he walks, or by his eyes alone. So, he keeps his head down, hands in his pockets, and tries not to think too much about his stride.

He’s not sure what he’s looking for, what he’s doing out of his hotel room so early. He has no schedule today, free to do what he likes, and he just needed to get out for a minute or two. He wasn’t planning on straying too far, especially since he’s told no one that he was leaving. He found himself just walking, though, enjoying the sights and the people leading simple lives.

He finds a little café after walking some more, and stands outside it, out of the way of the door to avoid being an issue. It’s crowded inside, and anxiety curls in his stomach as he contemplates going in. He believes no one would recognize him, he hopes that no one would look too long, and he steps inside.

It’s a bit quieter than he expected, people talking in low murmurs amongst themselves. The loudest things being the sound of a coffee grinder running and a barista calling someone for their order. It’s a small café, more dining space than workspace, and Namjoon wanders over to the resister and orders without issue.

His eyes trail over the other patrons, everyone absorbed in their own worlds and conversations. The table he eyes quickly gets taken while he collects his iced Americano and he sighs softly, despite the amount of people in, he doesn’t want to leave yet, and the only available spot to sit comes with another person. Namjoon weighs his options. He could go outside, find a little park to sit in and drink his coffee, or he could risk it here, where someone has yet to pay him any mind. It’s been so long since he’s been able to walk freely, he knows he’ll miss it when he goes back through the front door.

So, with cautious steps, he walks over to the table with the only available seat.

“Excuse me...” Namjoon softly calls, briefly contemplating on tapping your shoulder; you’re reading a book, and he knows well how easily one can get lost in those. You look up though, the tiny furrow between your brows gives way to your confusion, as well as the little humming sound you make. “Sorry...do you mind if I...”

Namjoon motions to the chair across from you, and you look at it and then back to him for a few seconds before realization blooms in your eyes.

“Oh! No, of course...just...go ahead.” Your smile is pretty, Namjoon notes, and he realizes, as he thanks you and sits, that you recognize him. You stare at him in a knowing kind of way, and before Namjoon can up and leave, you simply smile the way you had before, as though he was any other stranger wanting to share your table. He watches with bated breath, trying to stay calm just in case, and you just go back to reading your book.

There’s no fanfare, no freaking out and drawing attention, or asking for a photo and too invasive questions. You don’t even look at him again. The sound of you flipping the pages of your book melds into the background noise of the space, and Namjoon finds it strange. He thanks his stars, though, he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth and risk losing his head.

He relaxes when you continue to pretend he isn’t sitting in front of you, your eyes following the words on the page. There’s a tap of your fingers against the wooden tabletop, and a minute shake of your head before you close your eyes for a moment. You take an agitated breath, and Namjoon pauses the movement of him trying to get the straw underneath the bottom of his mask and watching you at the same time. He tries to peek at the cover of the book you’re reading, curious.

You shake your head again, muttering to yourself before going back to reading, your expression quickly blanks as you start back up again. Namjoon sips his coffee, for once feeling relaxed in a room full of strangers and lets his eyes trail elsewhere. Over to the little potted flowers that line the windows, or the people passing outside.

There’s a sudden squeak from you and Namjoon looks at you in time to catch the look of utter disbelief on your face. With frantic fingers you fish a bookmark from the back pages of the book before marking your spot and closing the book with a soft smack. Gently, with enough care that someone would think you’re handling glass, you place the book onto the table with a sigh and pick up your drink. You still don’t look his way, sipping at your drink with a frown and an irritated draw to your brows. Not that Namjoon is complaining, he swears he isn’t. It’s just...weird. He expected you to at least sneak a glance by now.

Curiosity should be a cardinal sin, as it’s gotten him into trouble more times than he could count, but Namjoon decides to dig his own grave anyway.

“What were you reading?” He asks, and it takes a moment, you’re clearly in your head, staring off at nothing and muttering into your drink. You look at him when his words finally break through.

“Huh? Oh...” You set your cup down, turning the book to him, “'The Desolation of Devil’s Acre'. It’s the last book of a series I’m following, and the main character is just...” You sigh through your nose, “He’s an idiot.”

You talk to him like any stranger, it almost made Namjoon think that you didn’t recognize him at all. He still sees it in your eyes, and as you’ve been adamant not to, he doesn’t address it either.

“I’d bet...” Namjoon chuckles, “If your reaction was anything to go by.”

There’s an embarrassed air about you now as you let out a soft laugh. Namjoon wants to smack himself though, he’d just told you that he’s been staring at you long enough to notice.

“Ah, yeah.” You wave a hand, “I bought it earlier...I was too excited and just got into it but Jacob is an idiot. He just makes me wanna reach in there and smack him silly.”

“Is it good?” Namjoon nods at the book, taking a moment to look at the cover. It’s black and white, a little girl sits on a black chair, a wall of photos is the backdrop, staring into the camera with big clear eyes and someone’s hand is tugging on the sleeve of the black and white chequered striped dress. It seems like a horror novel if Namjoon is being honest.

“I haven’t read much of this one yet, but the previous ones are amazing. Too bad the movie didn’t follow it correctly.” There’s an excitement in your eyes, and you seem perfectly content to rave about all the ways the movie went wrong and did the book absolutely no justice. Namjoon nods along, throwing questions at you about the books when he can, and by the time you’re done he’s laughing at something, and you are too. His iced Americano is now just an Americano that’s just slightly cold, more water than coffee, but Namjoon doesn’t mind and drinks it anyway. He still hasn’t removed his mask, but you don’t seem too bothered by it.

“It just would’ve been so much better if they’d followed the book correctly. I was so excited about the movie, and they just went and messed it up.” You sigh, taking a sip at your drink, Namjoon’s sure it’s cold by now. “You should give it a read, though...” You tilt your head at him, humming, and Namjoon tilts his head back, you can’t see it, but he smiles, the furrowing of his brows you do see.

“What?” Namjoon asks, a little amused by your sudden pause. You study him for a minute, but he’s comfortable enough in this space you’ve created that it doesn’t set off the usual alarm bells in his head. You’ve done wonders for treating him as just another person. Simply Kim Namjoon, who wandered into this small café and took the seat opposite you, and not RM of a globally recognized pop septet.

“You don’t strike me as a fantasy guy.” You say, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Oh yeah? And what do I strike you as?”

He leans forward a bit, genuinely curious, unintentionally flirty. He does his best to reel himself in, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. You take it in stride, though, despite the flush to your cheeks and the embarrassed air that lingers.

“Philosophy, poetry...maybe a bit of romance.” You finally say, smiling a bit.

Namjoon hums, leaning back into his chair, “You know a lot.” He says, but between the string of words lies the unspoken ‘You know me.’. He studies you as you study him, your face betraying no emotion.

You simply shrug, lifting your cup to your lips again, “Human decency.”

Namjoon quite likes your company, and he spends an hour more sitting opposite you, enjoying the sense of normalcy you provide. He wonders what you both look like to onlookers, like two friends who haven't seen each other in a while and are simply catching up. It feels that way for Namjoon.

He sits there until his coffee is finished and yours is too and you’ve tucked your book away and you're both talking again about anything that comes to mind. You don’t ask him about his work, but you ask about what he’s into these days, he recommends books and music he’s sure you’ve never heard of, and you do the same.

Time passes and then some more, and it's enough time for someone to realize that he’s missing. His phone vibrates against his leg right in the middle of him explaining why he thinks some things that happen in life can’t simply be chalked up to coincidences and he startles, leg jerking, knocking his knee against the underside of the table.

It rattles the empty cups topside with a dull thud and a sharp pain shooting up Namjoon’s leg, you wince with him, and he mutters a string of expletives. Rubbing a hand furiously against the offended spot, Namjoon fishes his phone from the pocket of his jeans, not bothering to check who’s calling before he answers.

“Hello?”

“Namjoon-ah, where are you?” Seokjin’s voice is a little far away and a little distracted. He suddenly yells a curse and Namjoon can only assume he’s spent his morning breaking in some new game he bought. “Sejin-nim was looking for – fuck, I hate this game – something about a briefing. You’re not in your room.”

“Ah, Hyung. I took a walk...I’m not far. Yeah – I'm coming back...Okay.” Namjoon glances at you as he pockets his phone again, smiling with his eyes.

You smile back, waving a hand, understanding as he picks up the empty take away cup and stands to leave. There’s no complaint from you, nothing in your eyes that tells of anything else. “It was nice meeting you.” You say softly, leaning forward a bit even though the chances of you being overheard by anyone else was slim.

“You too.” Namjoon says, and he means it. You’re like a diamond in a coal mine, as finding someone like you – being who he is - was rare. As soon as the thought crosses his mind, Namjoon pauses in the step he makes, faltering at your side and you look up at him curious and confused. He wars with himself for a moment, he’s certain that he’s about to do something stupid.

Something he should never do because of how dangerous it could be not only for him but his groupmates. He stares at you for a moment, long enough that it warrants your concern, and you ask if he's okay.

“Can I... Is it okay if I ask for your number?” The words come tumbling out of his mouth before he can reel them in, and he’s standing there a little mortified.

Namjoon always prides himself in being self-assured, but that same self-assurance leads him to putting his foot in his mouth sometimes and he says things without thinking first. It’s too late to pull the words back or act like he hadn’t asked because you’re blinking up at him, sitting a little straighter now in your seat.

You glance around, brows furrowed, “Are...are you sure?”

For the first time, it seems as though it just registered that you’re speaking to RM of BTS.

There’s a nervousness about you now, as you glance to the side, and Namjoon finds this strange. He’s not trying to sound like an ass thinking that many others would jump at the offer – or be bold enough to demand it first – it’s simply the truth.

He finds your consideration refreshing, though, and he waits patiently for you to make up your mind. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and Namjoon backtracks, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.” Namjoon says, putting up a hand. Despite who he is in the eyes of the public; he’s still a man. A man you’ve only spoken to for a half hour who’s now asking for your number, Namjoon would think very hard about it if he were in your shoes, too.

“I don’t meet a lot of people like you, and I thought it would be nice if we spoke often, but if that’s not cool, that’s okay.”

You shake your head, “No... it’s okay. I just...Are you sure? I don’t want to put you in any difficult spots, or myself for that matter...”

You’re surprisingly calm, looking more wary than anything else, and Namjoon takes that as a good sign. “I’m sure, don’t worry.” He smiles and pulls his phone out of the pocket of his jeans; he unlocks it with a press of his thumb and hands it over to you.

You fumble a little with the device, fingers tapping at the number pads quickly before handing it back to him. He shoots you a quick text, a simple ‘Hi :”)' before he was pocketing his phone again before he was waving and making his way out the café door.

Namjoon tries his hardest to keep walking forward back down the street and not jog back over to the glass window to wave at you. That would be very weird of him.

Namjoon’s day goes on as normal, not like he was expecting anything different. A whirlwind of briefings and meetings and discussions on what would be done during his group’s free time. It's no different to any other time, but by the end of the day Namjoon’s brain feels like mush and he’s lying in bed, palms under his head as he gazes at the swirling patterns etched into the ceiling.

He sighs, it’s long, drawn out and tired. He blinks slowly, sitting up to lean against the headboard. The sun had long set and only the glow of the city lights penetrated the darkness of his hotel room through the large window.

He squints at the lights that are too far off to be anything but hovering blobs in the distance, and briefly, he wonders what you’re up to.

Oh, that’s right.

Namjoon fumbles through the mess of his sheets to find the phone he knows he tossed there somewhere. It’s nowhere near him and he stands, lifting the sheets to look. There’s a dull thud and a clatter, and with a sigh, Namjoon rounds the bed to find his phone on the floor.

He plops back on the bed, pressing the power button and inspecting the screen for cracks. There’s a flurry of notifications and emails and texts from his group mates and work, and Namjoon scrolls through his notification feed. At the bottom, he finds a text from you; a reply to the message he’d sent earlier.

‘Hi (:’

It’s cute in its simplicity, but Namjoon stares at the place where your contact information sits. Just your number and nothing else, and Namjoon comes to the realization that he didn’t ask you for your name at any point this morning.

You had responded hours ago, and had sent nothing else, and with some embarrassment, Namjoon types out a message.

Namjoon: Hey, sorry I missed your text! Busy day, you know?

He frowns at the message when it goes through, at the time stamp that reads a little past midnight. You’re probably asleep and the timing seems a little less than ordeal, a little inappropriate given the hour, but Namjoon lets out a surprised hum when the bubbles appear at the bottom.

Unknown: Hey! No worries, it’s totally okay.

Namjoon: You’re up late...

Namjoon pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, was that a weird thing to mention? He can’t help but feel like he’s blowing this somehow. Is there a right way to text someone you barely know? He shakes his head, deciding not to think too much on it.

Namjoon: Sorry, but I didn’t ask your name earlier.

Unknown: Haha, that’s okay. It’s Y/n. And yeah, I was just finishing up some work.

Namjoon contemplates his next question, nerves running amok in his tummy.

Namjoon: Can I call you? Is that okay?

The bubbles appear and disappear for a moment and Namjoon thinks he’s overstepped. It’s pushing one in the morning and Namjoon’s aware of how it may look to you, how it may look to anyone else for that matter.

Y/n: Sure, we can do that.

Namjoon sighs, looking out the window, away from his phone to give himself a moment. You too – he’s mindful of himself, of course. He taps on the call button before he could talk himself out of it.

The line rings for a couple seconds, and Namjoon thinks that maybe you’ve stepped away for a minute or perhaps this was the wrong move and he shouldn’t have asked, but you pick up before another ring could sound. It’s quiet for a second and then he hears you inhale softly.

“Hey.” Your voice sounds a little different over the phone, or maybe it's just the time and Namjoon’s mind is trying to go places it shouldn’t. You’re as calm as you were this morning in the cafe, nothing in your voice betrays your emotion.

“Hey.” Namjoon can’t help the smile, and he’s sure you heard it in his voice. “I know it’s late, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, you’re good. I had a coffee so I’ll be awake for a while again.”

Despite your words your voice sounds tired and Namjoon feels guilty, laying back against the headboard with a soft sigh.

He asks about the book you’re reading and he listens to your rambles about the chapter you finished. Then you both talk about anything that comes to mind.

“How’d your day go? You don’t have to be too specific or anything, just in general.” You murmur softly, when Namjoon’s laying down fighting to keep his eyes open because he doesn’t want to hang up yet.

“Hectic.” He answers honestly, he can hear you shuffle around, getting comfortable in your sheets. “You?”

“It was alright, I spent half the morning freaking out, really. Today felt a little dream-like. If you hadn’t texted, I probably would’ve convinced myself that I imagined the whole thing.” You chuckle, and then there was a small pause, “Sorry, I’ve been so chill about it this whole time.”

“You’re fine. Handling it better than most.” Namjoon says, “I’m glad you didn’t freak out when you met me though.”

“Human decency.” You repeat your words from earlier, and Namjoon feels a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “You’ve probably had enough of that to last you a lifetime.”

“It’s not too bad, sometimes anyway.” He says softly, halfway asleep and he’s sure you are too. Your voice is getting quieter, and Namjoon can’t keep his eyes open.

When Namjoon wakes it’s to the sun shining into his eyes and his phone is still in his palm. It’s a little after eight am when he checks, and the call had already been disconnected sometime around seven. There’s a message wishing him a good morning from you, there’s a flutter in his tummy at the little yellow heart that ends the text, and he thinks it may be a little too early for that kind of response. He can’t help it though, and he lays in bed for another few minutes and stares at it with a stupid smile on his face.

He wonders what to do with his day, now with more than enough free time on his hands to do whatever he likes and then he wonders what you were doing today. There’s an all-consuming longing for the sense of normalcy you provided within the day he’s known you, and he knows that isn’t much time to find comfort in a person, but he guesses that’s just how it is when you live like he does. However, he doesn’t want to scare you away with his need to feel something that was long lost to him, so he puts off asking you anything.

He has a few things lined up on his personal itinerary: Museum crawls and sightseeing, all of which he would do alone and hopefully without any troubles along the way. He finally decides to bite the bullet when he’s done with his breakfast and sitting at the small table in his hotel room, fiddling with his phone and his bottom lip between his teeth. You hadn’t replied to his responding text from earlier and Namjoon can only assume you’re busy, but he texts anyway.

Namjoon: Are you busy today?

He locks his phone and cleans up the table, snatching his phone up when it chimes softly, smiling already.

Y/n: Not particularly…why?

Namjoon could never distinguish tone from texts, so he’s not sure if you’re suspicious or teasing, so he replies carefully.

Namjoon: I’m doing a thing today…some sightseeing or I might go to a museum…wanna come with?

The bubbles disappear and reappear and then you’re calling.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Don’t feel obligated to either.” Is the first thing he says when he answers, just to be certain.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I’d love to. I just need to know if it’s okay.” There’s a hesitance in your voice, a certain type of worry.

Namjoon is quick to ease, “I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t, Y/n.” He says with a chuckle.

“Ah, okay.” You laugh a little, “Oh but what about...do I have to sign an NDA?”

Namjoon pauses, he’s forgotten about that. He runs a hand through his hair, “Is that okay?”

“That’s fine.” There’s a smile in your words and Namjoon can’t help but smile back. “Where do I meet you?”

Namjoon sat across from his manager, Sejin, in his hotel room. He clears his throat, feeling a bit nervous about what he was going to ask.

“Sejin,” Namjoon begins, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Sejin, always attentive to Namjoon’s needs, leaned forward. “Sure, what’s on your mind, Namjoon?”

Namjoon hesitated for a moment before continuing, “There’s a friend I met recently, and I was hoping to bring her along with me when I go to the museum today.”

Sejin raises an eyebrow, his protective instincts kicking in. “A friend? Are you sure that’s a good idea, Namjoon? You know how public spaces can get, especially with a girl by your side.”

Namjoon nods, understanding Sejin’s concern. He’s well aware of how things can get, being who he is, especially in the eyes of some of his fans. “I know, Sejin. She's a good friend of mine, she won’t cause any trouble.”

Of course, Namjoon doesn’t know that for sure, but he’s willing to take the risk, and Sejin doesn't need to know he'd only met you yesterday; what he doesn't know won't kill him. One thing he’s certain of is that you’re different, and that’s something he can bet on.

Sejin contemplates for a moment, silent as he thinks before sighing. “Alright, Namjoon. I trust your judgement. But we need to take some precautions. We’ll have her sign a non-disclosure agreement to ensure our privacy and safety.”

Namjoon smiles, relieved that Sejin was willing to accommodate him. “Thank you.”

Namjoon paces in the hotel lobby an hour later, nerves making him unable to stand still for too long. He had met you just a day ago, but there’s something about you that intrigued him deeply. The way you’ve treated him like a regular person, not as the famous musician he was, is perhaps the biggest factor. He found that both fascinating and endearing.

Moments later, you walk into the lobby, looking a bit nervous yourself. You smile when you spot him, lifting your hand in a little wave. Your smile immediately puts Namjoon at ease. You’re wearing a simple dress, a backpack slung over one shoulder, walking over to him in quick steps.

“Hey.” You stop once you’re close enough, still smiling.

Namjoon smiles back, feeling a sense of relief. “Hey, Y/n Thanks for coming.”

You wave him off with a hand, looking around at the large lobby, the lights sparkling in your eyes.

Sejin is waiting at a table near the reception desk, and stands to shake your hand when Namjoon leads you over.

You take a seat and go through the formalities with him, and sign the NDA without complaint. Namjoon can’t help but feel a little worried, like he’s turning your life on its head by knowing him personally.

Namjoon watches the scenery pass by through the tinted glass of the car Sejin rented, the small talk died down as he pulled into the carpark of the museum. He leads you through the private entrance, where the manager meets you both with an enthusiastic greeting.

The museum is empty, and Namjoon catches the wonder in your eyes when he looks at you. “You rented out the whole place?”

Namjoon chuckled. “Yeah, I normally do. It’s more so for safety than anything else.”

You hum, nodding in understanding as you trail next to him. “It’s pretty cool, I’ve never been in one while it’s empty before.”

The private tour begins, and Namjoon’s knowledge and passion for art shines through as he explains the significance of each piece, trying his best to keep you entertained. You listen intently, genuine interest evident, even asking questions in between his rambling.

“You know,” You say, staring at a painting of abstract colours, “This is not at all how I imagined this to go.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, intrigued. He’s long stopped paying attention to the art that lined the walls, admiring you, mostly. “Oh? What did you imagine?”

You shrug, turning your head to look at him, a playful glint in your eye. “Well, I expected bodyguards, and a bit of running around. This is nice, though.”

Namjoon smiles, nodding, “Yeah, I would usually have someone close by, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You frown a bit, “Isn’t that dangerous though? You should have someone nearby regardless.”

“Your comfort is important.” Namjoon says, trying to keep you from worrying too much.

“Your safety is too, you know.”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you he’s right outside?” Namjoon smiles, he could see you’re ready to debunk his words with the way your eyes narrow. “Don’t worry, someone’s near, just not as near as they would be normally.”

You stare at him for a quiet moment longer, “Okay, I’ll take your word for it.”

As the both of you continued your tour, the conversation between you flowed effortlessly. Namjoon took the moment he had to know more about you. Asking about your dreams, how far you’ve gotten in that book of yours, and the places you wanted to travel to. He found you easy to talk to, allowing himself to open up to you in a way he hadn’t with many people.

Something in the back of his mind, a learned warning echoed. He really shouldn’t be, considering everything. He chooses to ignore it for now, as you ask him about his favourite pieces of art.

By the time the tour was over and Namjoon actually remembered to take photos of the art, the sun was at its zenith. He tries not to take too long touring, so the museum can at least open to the public for the rest of the day.

You’re scrolling through your phone, looking at the photos you took of the pieces that caught your attention.

“Wanna get some food? There’s a good place nearby.” Namjoon asks, tucking his phone into his jeans.

You nod, smiling, “I can eat.”

Namjoon drives you both to a diner he’d visited once or twice when he was last in this city. The diner was packed for the lunch rush and Namjoon contemplates his next move in the car.

“Oh, that’s...” You glance between him and the view of the people in the diner, “I’ll go, whatchu want?”

“I can go...” You’re already unbuckling your seat belt and leaning down to rummage through your backpack. You find your purse with a soft ‘a-ah!’, smiling at him as you right yourself and turn to him again.

“It’s alright. It’s pretty crowded... you might not be so lucky this time.” You say, “Want anything specific?”

Namjoon smiles at you, shaking his head with a small laugh, “Anything’s fine.”

You nod, opening the door, there’s a rush of warm air that disturbs the AC, and Namjoon is stopping you. “Hang on...”

He sees you shake your head as he reaches for his wallet, and you step out before he can hand you his card.

“You can get it next time.” With that you’re off, and Namjoon watches a little slack jawed as you go.

Something in his chest flips and crawls up his throat, “...next time?”

You come out of the cafe, balancing two cups of something colourful in a cardboard holder and two brown paper bags a good five minutes later. Namjoon leans over to the passenger seat to pop the door open for you, extending his arm to take the holder.

“I got you a smoothie if that’s okay,” You say once you settle, passing him one of the paper bags, “Ham, egg and cheese sandwich.”

“Smoothies are good, thank you,” The smoothie is a mix of some fruit and another he can’t put his finger on. He hums at the sweet taste, “Oh, that’s good.”

For a moment, you both quietly eat, “Thanks for inviting me to come with you. I had fun.”

“Sure you weren’t bored out of your mind?” Namjoon teases, smiling when you reach over to smack his arm lightly.

“I was not!” Your giggle rings like a bell, “I mean it.”

As the days go by and his time in this city draws nearer to an end, Namjoon tries his best to spend as much time with you as he could. He’d text and call when he can and when your time allows it, learning more about you as he went along and liking you more as he did. He felt strange for the most part, as his two-week break comes to an end and he’s packing his things away and double checking that he doesn’t forget anything or pack something that isn’t his. His phone is propped up against the bedpost, distracted from folding his clothes by the view of you coming back into the frame.

“You’ll be busy once you get back, right?” You ask, sipping juice through the straw of a juice box.

Namjoon sighs, “Yeah, I’ll try my best to keep up with you, though.”

“You don’t have to.” You wave him off with a hand, “You’re a busy guy.”

“Would you miss me?” Namjoon asks, curious, because he’ll miss you. Is it normal to feel this way about someone you’ve known for only a short while?

“Nah.”

“Ow.”

“I’m kidding.”

Namjoon rolls his suitcase behind him, taking a moment to wave at the paparazzi and the fans that litter the terminal. He grips his phone tightly in his free hand, smiling at the cameras. He’s slept a little on the plane over, and even though he’s wide awake now he knows he’ll crash later. His phone buzzes in his hold and he briefly glances at it, he texted you right before he landed, and was eagerly awaiting your response.

He waits until he’s seated in the car at the entrance, he waves one last time through the window before he rolls it right up and settles into the leather seat of the car. The silence is soothing and Namjoon watches as the people outside filter away now that he’s inside.

Y/n: Hope your flight went okay!

Namjoon studies the text for a moment, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He was a little worried, honestly. He likes you, a lot, really, but what if it was simply in passing? A fleeting moment of interest? What if it all amounts to nothing in the end all because you’re you and he’s him? It’s easier to date within your own circle, to be with people who understand the complications and compromises that come with being with someone like him. He feels as though now, with an ocean between you both, everything will simply fade away. He’s known you barely two weeks, and even though he’s let you in, and you him, Namjoon can’t help his growing anxiety at the thought. Funny it occurs to him now that he’s back home.

Namjoon: It did!

He stares out the window for a bit, watching the familiar streets zoom by and shakes his head. When was the last time he actually felt like this? Meeting people is hard enough, and meeting someone like you is even harder. He’s seen and met a lot of people over the years, over his time as RM of BTS, a lot of fans who he thought beautiful and never pursued. He knows what comes of relationships between an idol and a fan, he’s seen it happen and it’s always a disappointment to be used like that. But he doesn’t want to put you in that box, he has no right to when you’ve shown him differently. Though, he’s in his right mind to keep an eye out for tabloids and articles of the things he’s shared with you and he also feels guilty that he does. He’s only known you for a short time, something he constantly has to remind himself of when he’s thinking too hard, but that level of trust is something he’s willing to work towards with you.

Namjoon’s days blur together into the weeks as they would when he’s too busy to do anything else but what’s required of him. Meetings here and there, album preparations; work. As he promised, he tried his best to keep up with you, and even on the days where all he could do when he comes home is pass out wherever he sets himself, you text or call to make sure he’s doing okay with it all. Sometimes it’s too early for you to consider being awake or it’s late at night and you’re too tired to keep your eyes open and Namjoon could barely understand what’s coming out of your mouth.

As the weeks meld into months you both found a routine that works best, and Namjoon finds things to do with you when you’re both free at decent times. Maybe you’ll watch a movie or play games together or simply catch up on things you’ve missed.

Namjoon never really has much to tell, most of his days are filled with work and despite his reputation for spoilers, he’s trying his best to keep things under wraps. You do most of the talking, you never seem to mind it much – smiling with a certain understanding – and Namjoon is always happy to listen about what you did that day or your workplace gossip.

He’s found it impossible to get you out of his head and focus more often, thoughts of you invading his mind more than anything else.

Even now as he tries to focus on putting a track together, he’s barely with it, phone propped up against a speaker and waiting for you to get back from getting some things done. He moved from the living room to his home studio a while ago, determined to get some work done and now just sits and stares at the tracks with a frustrated frown. He squints at the screen, moving some things around and playing the same track over and over.

“Where’re your glasses?”

Namjoon glances at his phone to see you just settling back on your couch, a glass bowl of cereal in your hand. You look cute in blue jellyfish printed pajamas he hasn’t seen you in before, hair pulled up and away from your face and even through the phone screen Namjoon can see it’s still damp.

“They’re…” He thinks for a moment, “…somewhere…”

You chuckle, “You should get those thingies kids and old people put on their glasses so they won’t lose them.”

“Trying to say something?”

“I’m just saying…you either lose them or break them and you can just avoid both by getting the thing. I know contacts are annoying.”

Namjoon smiles, nodding, “Yeah, they’re a pain in the ass.” He sighs, pushing his chair away from the desk to spin around and stretch his fingers. “Isn’t it late for you?”

You put another spoonful of cereal in your mouth, turning your hand to look at your watch and hum, “It’s not that late…trying to get rid of me?”

“Never.” Namjoon smiles at your teasing tone, “Sleep is important, though.”

“Says you.” You point a finger at him, “You texted me at three am two days ago.”

“You were awake though, so…you’re losing this argument.” Namjoon laughs as you snap your mouth shut.

You point your spoon at him, “I’ll win next time.”

“Are those new? The pyjamas.” Namjoon asks, propping his chin on his hand, resigning himself to not getting any work done this morning.

“I’ve had these a while, aren’t they cute? There’s a really big jellyfish printed on the back.” You say, setting your bowl down with a soft clink of the glass against the wood of your coffee table.

“Yeah they’re…” Namjoon feels the words stall in his throat as you stand up, the bottoms of the pajamas aren’t long legged pants as he expected them to be. They end just above the middle of your thighs, and you’re giving him quite the show when you turn and come back down. The sight of the cartoonish jellyfish on the back of the top knocks Namjoon back where he’s supposed to be and he pinches the back of his hand.

When you right yourself, sitting back on the couch, Namjoon can’t stop thinking about the rest of you he can’t see.

“What’s with that look?” You ask after a moment of him just staring.

“What look?” Namjoon asks back, and for a second you simply watch him before you huff out a laugh and look away.

“You’re looking at me like you…” You start, eyes moving back to the camera before they flit away again, “Oh, my mum’s calling. I’ll text you in the morning, okay?”

Namjoon laughs a bit, nodding as he waves you goodbye, “Sleep well.”

“Ah, fuck.” Namjoon grunts, the muscles of his arm strains and he tilts his head back, sweat trailing down his neck. He brings his arm up and then back down slowly, letting a breath out through his nose, “Shit.”

The music playing through his Bluetooth headphones suddenly fades out, the specific ringtone he set for you plays softly. Namjoon sets the dumbbell down on the floor, pressing a finger against the touchpad of one of the earbuds and answers.

“Hey Princess, what’s up?” He pulls at the end of his tee, fanning the cool ac air against his warm skin.

“Joon, it’s a video call.”

“Oh.” Namjoon pulls his phone from his pocket, waving at you with a smile, “Hi.” He gets off the bench he’s sitting on, propping his phone somewhere safe and sits again.

“Hi…are you – damn give me a warning, won’t you?”

Namjoon looks up at you just in time to catch you looking away, not missing the motion of you biting your bottom lip. He smirks, whether you’re aware of it or not; this is payback. He had a hard time not thinking of you in those short pyjama pants for two days, and even though this was completely unintentional, it was worth your reaction.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Namjoon smiles innocently.

You shake your head, “Anyway…guess what.” He hears the excitement in your voice rather than see as you’ve stepped out of frame and then quickly back in with a bottle of water in hand. There’s a big bright smile on your lips and you seem to be bouncing a bit in place.

“Well someone’s excited.” Namjoon chuckles and you wave at him frantically, “Okay, okay. What?”

You pout, “It’s no fun if you don’t even attempt to guess, you know?”

“There’s like, so many possibilities of my guess being wrong.” Namjoon says and you sigh dramatically.

“Fine, I’ll tell you. Killjoy.” You roll your eyes, the action playful, “I’ll be in your area around this time next week.”

It takes a full minute for Namjoon to process and he almost drops the dumbbell on his foot, “Eh?”

“Hyung…I don’t know what to do.” Namjoon whines, flopping back into the couch in Genius Lab. Seokjin pats his back as Yoongi swivels around in his chair to face him, plucking his headphones out his ears.

“That’s a good thing.” Yoongi says, standing to stretch with a groan, “But also…don’t think about it too much. Overthinking doesn’t do you any good.”

Seokjin sighs, shaking his head, “I think it’s good that she’s coming here. It’s a good way to connect, you know?”

“I know, but…”

“It’s different here, right?” Yoongi supplies, sitting back into his chair but he doesn’t turn away, “Feels like you have to run around in secret. And on top of that she isn’t in ‘our circle’, things can get overwhelming for both of you, especially her.”

Yoongi is right, as he usually was. The last thing he wanted was to have his life and the circumstances of it be too much for you to take. Namjoon told the guys about you once or twice, just in case things between you both became more serious than it is now, he didn’t want them out of the loop and have to explain later.

“I don’t want that to get in the way of a relationship should it happen…” Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“Alright Joonie, Hyung is gonna explain something so listen carefully.” Seokjin lays a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder and Yoongi makes a face at the tone he uses.

“Why do you sound like you’re gonna talk to him about safe sex?”

Seokjin ignores Yoongi, turning Namjoon to face him with his other hand on the other shoulder, looking serious. “Namjoon. You’re more than your celebrity status. You’re a person with feelings and desires, just like anyone else. If you like this girl, don’t let fame be a barrier. If things get hard, do what all the other adults do; sit and talk about it.”

Namjoon nods, “Right. You’re right. Thank you, Hyung.”

“Now, imagine if I wasn’t here to look after you guys.” Seokjin pats Namjoon’s shoulder, one of his rare deep chuckles filling the brief silence. “Just take her to see all the good places, have fun and you can worry about the rest after.”

It’s a day after you arrive in Korea that Namjoon sees you.

He’s meeting you a block away from the place you’re renting for the two weeks you’ll be here. There’s a slight chill in the air as the tail-end of summer pulls the beginning of autumn, and you’ve unintentionally matched him with your dark clothes and hat. You both had been texting the night before and Namjoon promised to take you somewhere nice while you were free.

“Hi!” your greeting is cheerful, and Namjoon returns it, smiling.

“Settling in okay?” Namjoon asks as he pulls off the curb.

He is determined to make the most of every moment you both spent together, showing you all his favourite spots. You both wandered through bustling markets, sampled street food, and visited historic temples.

When the sun painted the sky with lilac and indigo and the moon chased it away, Namjoon parked his car in the carpark of an observatory. The observatory is closed of course, but there’s an event that Namjoon booked tickets for the moment he saw it. You expressed your love for the cosmos many times before, and Namjoon was more than willing to indulge you. At times he would sit and listen to you ramble on for ages, telling him any and everything.

He flashes you a dimpled smile, making sure his black mask and hat were secured before leading you to the park located at the back of the observatory. The park was a large space with sparse trees and shrubbery dotting the field, the trees are wrapped in fairy lights, which are usually on at night time but are off to allow the best view of the night sky. There are winding paths of gravel that goes every which way, and Namjoon picks the one where less people linger, leading you down it with your hand in his.

He leads you through the winding trails and the other people here for the event until he finds a clear spot where you both can sit comfortably without disturbance.

It’s a clear night, the stars twinkling in the sky above. It’s quiet between you for a moment, where you watch the sky and he’s looking at you. His heart pounds in his ears and he doesn’t know what else to do but look away when you suddenly turn.

“What?” You laugh, leaning slightly to nudge his shoulder with yours.

Namjoon laughs softly, knowing he’s definitely been caught and shakes his head, “Nothing.”

You sigh softly, wrapping your arm around his and leaning your head on his shoulder. He wonders how you both seem to people that may glance a little longer, perhaps like a pair of lovers simply enjoying the night in each other’s company.

Namjoon enters the code for his apartment door, the beep and the sound of the door unlocking is loud in the quiet hallway. He lets you enter first, sliding you a pair of house slippers before he leads you further in.

“Ah, don’t mind the mess...it’s not usually like this...” Namjoon scratches his cheek, eyes caught on the mess that is his coffee table. There’re wads of balled up paper strewn about it, lyrics he started and decided there was nothing he could do with them, his journal left open and his little green cactus pen abandoned. A stack of books on the floor that’s yet to be read.

He quickly walks over to tidy it, picking up the stray pieces of paper.

“Don’t worry about it,” You say, and Namjoon realises you’re not even paying mind to it. Attention fully stolen by the various art pieces he has hung on walls and settled into corners.

The living room of his apartment is large, and in an attempt to make it look less empty, it’s his usual place to put whatever catches his eye. Most of them are paintings, canvases filled with colours and scenery, a book shelf that holds none, instead, a display for finely crafted pottery, potted house plants and a tiny brass horse Taehyung gifted him some time ago. There are picture frames of his family, the boys and other abstract things he took himself filling the emptier spaces on the shelf.

Glass pane windows take up most of the wall on the other side of the room, giving a beautiful view of Hannam in all its glittering glory.

Namjoon makes his way into the kitchen, paper balls clutched in his hands and he asks if you want anything. You’ve wandered over to the shelf, looking at all the different pieces, telling him that water would be fine.

“These are really pretty,” you say, turning to him with genuine admiration. “Are all of them authentic?”

“Some of them are.” He says, getting a glass from his cupboard, and then quietly: “Most of those are from small local ceramists, some of them from charity auctions and things like that.”

There’s something surreal in having you a room away, and not making jokes with him through a phone screen. Namjoon finds himself a little at a loss, a lot clumsier than usual as he knocks his shin against the leg of an island stool. There’s a searing heat that climbs its way from the collar of his shirt to flush the skin of his neck and ears.

He sees the smile that curls the corner of your mouth when you glance at him, “Are you okay?”

Namjoon nudges the stool closer to the lip of the island counter – glaring at it as though it walked into his path just to spite him; he forgot it out this morning, it’s his fault really – and nods. “I’m good.”

He reaches you in three strides, passing you the glass of chilled water. You take small sips of it, and Namjoon tracks the motion of your throat as you swallow.

He gives you a little tour, telling you about the art and any little thing you ask after. Namjoon’s thrilled to share this part of his life with you.

When it got a little later, Namjoon stands in the kitchen, watching water boil because it’s the only thing you let him do. He feels a little embarrassed as you stand somewhere behind him, donned in an apron he barely uses. He’d suggested ordering in and in very you fashion, you’d asked when was the last time he had a home cooked meal. Honestly, it was a while ago, when he visited home.

You’d shook your head, listing the times he would call you while he was eating dinner and you eating breakfast and it would always be some sort of take-out.

You gracefully allow him to crack the pasta and put it in the pot, but that was the most of it.

“I won’t be explaining to anyone how you hurt yourself in here.” You say, lowering the heat under steaming tomato sauce. You’re making pasta, he thinks, as you’ve told him that your knowledge on Korean cuisine isn’t enough for you to try your hand at it.

“You wouldn’t have to, I hurt myself all the time.” Namjoon chuckles, “Can I at least help you cut those?” he motions at the small bowl of washed onions, not waiting for an answer, he pulls a knife from the holder at the corner of the island. He knows how to hold a knife without too much trouble, at least.

As you skilfully prepare dinner, the conversation between you both flow naturally. Talking about whatever comes to mind, anything and everything and laughing over stories. You both settle to eat afterwards, and Namjoon can’t stop singing your praises, he’d go halfway to say that you cook better than Seokjin…Maybe he’s just biassed.

After Namjoon washed the dishes – he swore he wouldn’t let you do anything more – you both took your drinks of bottled beers to the living room. Sitting on the couch, and a movie playing on the mounted tv that neither of you pay attention to, far too engrossed in talking to each other; the well of topics never seems to run dry. Namjoon thinks that’s nice, there’s always something to talk about with you, even if you’re just telling him workplace gossip from two weeks ago, or rambling on about a shell you found on a beach when you were nine.

“Oh shoot-” You turn your wrist to look at your watch, the glass face catching the overhead lights. You squint at the time, something Namjoon once made fun of you for, because who has analogue watches anymore? He doesn’t find it in him to laugh at you now though, as the realisation dawns on him before you can say: “It’s really late…”

He checks his own watch without much reason – thirty minutes past midnight – and he frowns, he’s kept you way later than he intended. “Shit yeah, my bad. Sorry I kept you.”

You wave a hand, smiling at him, “No, it’s okay!” You place the half empty bottle of beer on the little black coaster on the coffee table. You stare out at the city for a quiet moment, “How hard is it to catch a taxi from here?” you ask, and then, quietly to yourself: “Maybe I should call an uber…”

It takes Namjoon a fraction of a second for his mind to fumble, trying to grasp at the words uselessly before they tumble out into the air. His mouth moves faster, though, “Or you could just stay here?”

He blinks at you and you blink back, the words hanging in the air long enough that Namjoon wishes that the floor would open up and swallow him, never to spit him out again. He stumbles with his words, dropping them as though the gears of his mind are grinding to a halt, coating in rust. “Um-If th…uh…you don…”

Then, you smile, your cheeks squishing your eyes. “Only if that’s okay.”

“More than.” Namjoon can’t help his smile back; grateful you didn’t mention him tripping over himself. “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

Twenty minutes later, Namjoon is digging through his drawers for something for you to wear for the night, the blush that had flushed his cheeks earlier had returned with a vengeance as he thought about the fact that you’re staying the night and would be wearing his clothes. He’s still beside himself, not too sure what to do, because this is so far beyond the two of you being friends and talking through calls and texts.

He settles on a long-sleeved tee shirt and black sweatpants and meets you back in the living room, where you stand at the window watching the lights twinkle down below and in the distance. When he announces his return, you turn, looking a little worried and Namjoon once again wonders if he’s crossed a line somewhere. You smile softly, taking the bundle of clothes from his arms.

“Thank you…” You say, and then, softer: “Are you sure it’s okay?”

Namjoon plants his hands on your shoulder, squeezing gently before he leads you back the way he came, following your steps closely with his own. He stops you right outside the bathroom door, “Yes, I’m sure.”

Namjoon lays awake in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. You’re sleeping in the room across from him, well, he assumes you’re asleep by now. The clock at his bedside blinks sleepily, but Namjoon finds it hard to let his mind settle.

When you’d come out of the bathroom earlier, a little over thirty minutes ago, you were practically drowning in his clothes. You’d rolled the legs of the pants a few times but it still swam around your ankles and the tee was at least three times your size.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen you in oversized clothing before. It’s simply the fact that it’s his. It’s been a good few months since he’s met you in that cafe, and a good few weeks since he’s realised he liked you.

It may have happened when you went off on one of your many rambles about something or the other. He’s not quite certain. After spending the entire day with you, Namjoon likes you in his space. Not once have you given him the need to run in the opposite direction, not once have you broken his trust.

Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, kicking his feet under the blanket. Making up his mind, he gets out of bed and marches confidently to his door. He pulls it open and the edge of the door hits his toe. He stands for a moment, with his eyes closed, brows furrowed in pain and a hand over his mouth keeping the pained yelp trapped. “...Ow.”

He takes the five steps across the hallway, raises a hand to knock, takes a breath and turns on his heel. He walks a little ways up the hall.

“Okay. C’mon, it’s not that hard.” He mutters to himself, and then looks back at the door, “This is very hard.”

He’s not sure. He’s sure of himself, and his feelings, but...what if you’re not in the same place he is?

“Joon?” You poke your head out the door, and Namjoon startles. “You good?”

You didn’t look like you went to sleep and he woke you up, though your hair is a bit tousled and Namjoon would like to hope that you’d been just as restless as he was.

“Yeah...”

You give him a look that says you aren’t too convinced, “I heard a thud.”

“Oh...” The ache in his toe rings with a dull echo, and he looks down at his feet and then back at you, “Door...I jammed it against my toe.”

Your eyes flicker downward, and even in the dimly lit hallway he could see your amusement. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, happens all the time.”

“I’m concerned at the fact that you think accidentally hurting yourself this often is normal.” You laugh and Namjoon makes his way over to you but stops short and stares up at the ceiling. You’ve ditched the pants he gave you.

“What are we looking at?”

He glances at you and you’re also looking at the ceiling.

“You’re not wearing pants.”

You must’ve caught yourself, because there’s a soft gasp and the shuffling of your feet. When Namjoon brings his gaze back down you’re peeking at him from behind the door.

“Sorry!” You squeak out, “Sleeping in long pants is uncomfy.”

“It’s okay, I sleep naked sometimes so...” Namjoon couldn’t stop the words before they hit the air, and for a moment they simply hang there as you both stare at each other.

“Not that you should sleep naked...I mean – you can if you want to, really, doesn’t bug me at all...” He’s really trying to reign it in here. “There’s nothing wrong with sleeping like that. As long as you’re comfortable!”

“Relax,” You laugh, sticking your hand out through the gap in the door and the frame to wave him down, “I’m not sleeping naked. I get cold fast.”

“There’s a solution for that.” Another pause, and Namjoon realises how his words sounded as you raise a brow at him, “The heater. There’s a heater in there. I wasn’t suggesting that I could...”

Namjoon sighs, he really does put his foot right in his mouth. So he does what’s best for everyone and just closes it.

Just when he was beginning to think that this moment would be at the top of his 'Awkward situations you’ve created' list, the gap widens just a bit and there’s something shy about your small smile and the way your eyes stay glued to the floor.

“I wouldn’t mind...” Your words are soft and Namjoon wonders for a moment if he misheard. This is the most shy he’s seen you in a while, looking up at him through your eyelashes, fingers caught in the hem of your borrowed tee-shirt; wringing the life out of the piece you hold.

“Yeah?” His voice is equally as soft, giving you room to change your mind if you so wished. You nod mutely and Namjoon gives you a second more to think carefully, only stepping forward when you step back and pull the door with you.

You leave the door open a crack, so that the light from the hallway bleeds into the darkness, and Namjoon watches as you walk over to the bed and crawl under the blankets.

There really isn’t much to this room, equipped with the essentials and a few nick-knacks and a bookshelf he’d put his other books on because there was no space on his other ones. There was a landscape painting hanging above the headboard, something he put there to give the room a bit more personality.

You’re peeking at him from the blankets, the soft mounds of material hiding most of your face from view. It’s a lot cooler here than his room, though the floor is cold under his bare feet and he briefly wondered if you need socks.

He walks soundlessly over and out of habit, he’s already pulling his tee-shirt over his head but pauses when it hangs on the length of his arms. “Shit – sorry.” He pokes his head back through the neck of the tee, “I run hot so I don’t usually sleep with a shirt on.”

“Is that why you sleep naked, too?”

Namjoon is grateful for the dark as heat runs up his neck. He takes it in stride, though, “Yeah. Clothes are constricting sometimes.”

There’s something else in your voice when you giggle, and there’s a shifting of the blankets. “You can keep it off if you want.”

Namjoon hums, “Are you okay with that?”

“As long as you’re comfortable.”

“Your comfort matters, too.” It’s not as though you hadn’t seen him without a shirt before; you shaded video calls during his workout sessions. Even though most of those are spent with you trying not to look at him – Namjoon’s caught you staring more times than he could count. This is different, though, he reminds himself; you’re no longer oceans away.

“I’m comfortable with it.”

“Okay.” Namjoon pulls his shirt off and folds it neatly, placing it on the nightstand before he climbs into bed next to you.

His side of the bed is cold, but he could feel your warmth just inches away. He turns to face you, lying on his side, finding your eyes in the dark.

“Hi.” You’re already facing him and in the darkness, Namjoon smiles.

“Hi.”

Your toes brush his under the covers and Namjoon hisses softly, “Are you cold?”

“A little...”

“Want me to get closer?” Namjoon whispers, and to his surprise, you move over first.

There’s a slight chill to your skin as you settle, resting your head where Namjoon extended his arm and then, close enough that your legs tangle with his and the ghost of your breath tickles his chest. You smell like him, like watermelon and mint; He’s once again grateful for the darkness.

Namjoon lets his other arm rest in the dip where the softness of your stomach meets your waist. It’s quiet when you both stop shuffling about, and your breaths are a tad nervous on the inhale.

“Okay?” Namjoon tries his best not to disturb the quiet, speaking softly. He feels you nod, and a slow flow of warm air as you sigh.

“You’re really warm.”

Namjoon chuckles, and silently, holds you tighter. He lets his chin rest on the top of your head, your hair tickles his nose. It smells faintly of his shampoo – he’s never loved it more. He wants to stay there forever, wrapped in the sweet, gentle scent of honeysuckle, melon and something uniquely you.

Namjoon wonders – and he knows, there’s no point in dwelling on the thought – what would’ve happened if he’d walked out of the cafe that day. Held captive by his responsibilities and his duty to keep his group and their image as spotless as possible. It would’ve been different had you not been the way you are.

He calls your name softly, and he wonders if you can feel the rapid pace of his heart beneath the warmth of your palm. It kicks against his sternum like he’s been running, and he takes a breath. There’s something unspoken here, in this darkened room where only the walls are listening.

Somewhere along the way, during the days that dragged the weeks into months – somewhere – a line was blurred.

Sleep wraps around your tired hum like a warm blanket, the sound of the sheets shifting further shattering the quiet as you lean back a little to look at him.

He lets his hand find the warmth of your cheek, moving until his thumb is resting against the front of your ear and his fingers are nestled in the softness of your hair.

“Wanna ask you something.” He says.

“What’s it?”

Distractedly, Namjoon’s fingers rub tentative circles in your scalp and catches the way your eyes flutter at the feeling.

He smiles when your eyes open and meet his, with the dark he grows confident, and softly: “Can I kiss you?”

His words hang in the air, heavy with desire and affection. In that moment, the weight of his request carries with it a profound realisation.

It’s not just a simple act of physical connection he seeks, but rather a deeper, more profound expression of love. His request bears the weight of all the emotions, vulnerabilities, and hopes he has placed upon this relationship.

The answer now rests in your hands, and Namjoon waits with bated breath for your response.

“Please.” Your answer dances between you both, and Namjoon angles your head upward slightly, and closes the gap with a tentative kiss. Your lips are soft and taste of mint when he runs his tongue along the seam of your mouth. He doesn’t ask for much more, gentle in the way that he pulls you closer, fingers tangling in the soft hair at your nape.

In this moment, there is no need for words. The brush of your skin against his, the sweet taste of your kiss, and the way your bodies gravitate towards each other speak volumes.

Namjoon cherishes every second, every breath shared, as he grows more intoxicated by you.

His heart pounding in his chest, all thoughts of caution and restraint fade away. Giving in completely to his desire and lust, he pulls you close, not wanting this moment to end. The kiss is now an embrace, with both of you giving in fully.

His lips caress yours, his touch slowly becoming more and more intimate. His tongue finds yours, and Namjoon swallows the sound you make.

He breaks the kiss for a moment, you both take in a deep breath. It’s like everything around you becomes blurred, with only the two of you visible.

He runs his hands through your hair, looking into your eyes. He draws closer again, resting his forehead against yours.

He’s quiet, still for a moment, simply watching you in the dark. Your fingers tap softly against his chest, confusion and worry sit on the furrow of your brow.

“What wrong?”

Namjoon sighs, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, your eyes each and then your forehead where he lingers. “It’s nothing... it’s just...”

“I want you to understand...” He continues softly after a breath, “My life can be overwhelming, it’s hard even for me some days. There’s times when I feel like I’ve worked hard only to get myself trapped in a bottle. Dangling above the view of millions who think I should live my life their way.

It isn’t easy. There’s always a risk that maybe one of us would slip up or something else. Privacy is something hard won and I’d hate for anything to happen that puts you in a position that you’ll regret.”

Namjoon lays his worries bare like cards going all in, focusing on the texture of your hair between his fingers. He allows you a moment to absorb his words, to really think.

The life of an idol isn’t for everyone; so many have cracked under the pressure of it. The life of an idol’s partner does not come any easier. Your relationship would be kept buried like a dirty secret to feed into the delusions of a certain variety of ‘fans’, all for the safety of the people involved.

If by some miracle, or a stroke of good luck, you choose to continue onward despite the challenges it would bring, Namjoon would be eternally grateful and he would spend his days making sure you never regret that choice.

“Joon...” Your hand meets his wrist, curling at his pulse. “I’ve known from the beginning what it would be like. You’ve got fans all over the world who adore you, and who would do just about anything to get close to you. It’s not easy to live a life like that, to be constantly watched and judged.

“But I knew that going in,” you continue. “I may not have expected to fall in love with you, but now that it’s happened, nothing else matters. I know what it’s like to have eyes always on you, and I’m willing to do anything to make it work.”

“You...you love me?” Namjoon's mind feels as though it blanked, though somewhere in the back among the cogs grinding to a halt your words have registered. Right now, he could only tunnel focus on that one thing.

“Oh god.” There’s a smile blooming on Namjoon’s lips as you groan an embarrassed sound, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. He laughs softly, leaning back to catch your gaze but you evade him, bringing your hands up to cover your face instead.

Namjoon briefly wonders if this is what a moon orbiting a planet feels like. Ganymede does not question the gravity of Jupiter. It simply orbits the planet, accepting its fate. And Namjoon accepts his fate of being drawn to you. He is not swept up by your presence, but rather firmly grounded, and held in place. His feelings for you are as natural as the pull of gravity, as certain as the rotation of the Earth.

In your presence, everything shifts, and nothing else becomes important. Your gravity becomes his universe, and he is perfectly content to reside in it.

“I love you too.”

You peek at him through your fingers, and Namjoon doesn’t let the moment pass, prying your hands gently away from your face. He leans closer and presses a kiss to your lips, there’s nothing gentle about it this time – all teeth and tongue and quiet sounds that Namjoon swallows. He eases you onto your back with a gentle hand, slotting himself between your legs.

He trails his kisses down your neck, catching the skin with his teeth and sucking to leave his mark. He trails his hand down the length of your thigh, over the band of your underwear and under the soft cotton tee-shirt. He brushes his fingers along the curve of your hip, feeling the warmth of your skin and the way you tremble beneath his touch. He travels further still, up your ribcage to your breasts, feeling the soft curves and the way your nipples harden beneath his caress.

He feels the goosebumps that erupted at his touch, feels the hitch of your breath in your chest. Namjoon sucks a mark against your collarbone, he shifts so that he’s at your side, giving his hand more room.

He traces feather light touches along the expanse of your stomach and you giggle into his kiss. His fingers glide just above the waistband of your underwear, teasing until you whine his name.

Namjoon chuckles as he pulls away, “Can I?”

Words seem like more than you can manage and you nod. Namjoon gives a fleeting kiss, as his fingers dip lower, pushing aside your underwear to find your heat. The arousal clinging to your panties cools rapidly against the back of his hand, and Namjoon dips a finger into the warmth of you.

He keeps his eyes on your face as he does, watching the way your eyebrows furrow and your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth. He nudges his nose against your cheek and runs his tongue along the shell of your ear. He’s barely touching you, keeping his fingers just shy of where he knows you want them the most.

It’s a while of teasing you this way, and Namjoon likes the way frustration bleeds into your soft, breathless moans when he circles your clit with his slick fingers and pulls away. He gives your neck and chest most of his attention, with gentle squeezes and his tongue tracing abstract patterns, drawing your nipples into his mouth with soft tugs of his teeth.

When the next whine of his name comes with teary eyes, Namjoon takes pity on you. The wet, tightness of you makes him groan and he pulls a hissing breath through his teeth, pressing his erection against your hip where he ruts in sync with the movement of his fingers.

He curls them upward, your back bows and he presses the heel of his palm against your clit. He kisses your cheek when your fingers wrap around his wrist, “I got you, baby.”

You gasp, your pleasure mounting until you can’t take it anymore. You writhe beneath his touch as you reach the peak of pleasure, calling out his name as you fall over the edge.

Namjoon gives you a moment to breathe, running his hand along your thighs and tummy. He takes your face in his hands once your breaths evened out, pressing his forehead to yours and breathing in your scent. His lips find yours in a gentle, yet passionate kiss that leaves you both breathless.

“Good?”

“Fuck – yeah.” Your fingers tug at his hair and Namjoon groans.

“Want me to go on?” He asks softly, pressing a kiss to your temple and then, almost jumps right out of his skin when your other hand squeezes at his cock in his sweats. He lets out a chuckle that gets muddled by a moan that rumbles in his chest. “Baby.”

Namjoon sees the smile that curls in your lips, the innocent way you blink at him. You hum softly when he mouths at your jaw, a shudder runs through him and he can’t stop himself chasing the friction with a buck of his hips.

“You wan’it?” Namjoon’s drunk on you and you’ve barely done anything. You’re tugging at the drawstring of his sweatpants, and he groans, letting his forehead rest against your chest when your hand wraps around his cock and tugs upward. “Ah, Fuck.”

He feels your hand against his chest and lies back when you push gently. He watches as you tug his tee-shirt and your underwear off, and he quickly follows to take his sweats off.

He slides his hands up your thighs when you settle on his. A breath catches in his throat when you wrap both hands around the width of his cock. His fingers gripping where your thighs meet your hips, and he watches with heavy lidded eyes as you lean forward slightly and spit. The dollop of saliva lands deftly on the head of his cock and Namjoon’s eyes roll back as you focus there.

You’re twisting your wrists, the slick sound of it and Namjoon’s harsh breaths are the only sounds in the quiet room. When he feels his lower stomach clench he grabs your wrist and still your movement.

“Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think of literally anything else, “You’ll make me cum if you keep doing that.”

Your giggle rings like a bell and Namjoon smiles at the sound. Sitting up he pulls you forward, trapping his throbbing cock between his stomach and the heat of your cunt. He groans at how wet you are, blunt teeth nipping at your jaw. “Wanna ride it?” He breathes, “Hm? Wanna fuck me?”

He feels your nod, feels the shuddering breath you release against his hair. “Words, Princess.”

“Yeah, wanna fuck you.”

Namjoon helps you balance, guiding his cock – slick with your juices – to your entrance. He sucks on your tongue as you come down slowly, and Namjoon swears he’s seeing the pearly gates behind his tightly shut eyes when your walls flutter.

He lies back, giving you a moment and short, shallow thrusts. You look so beautiful above him, your hair a rumpled mess, throat and chest covered in bruises of his own making. He gives a single thrust, a hand sliding up your sweat slicked skin to palm at your breast, his other hand landing a harsh slap against your ass.

You squeak out a moan and Namjoon chuckles, doing it again, “C’mon, baby girl. Fuck me.”

Your hands press against his tummy, hips rising slowly and coming back down. He lets you set the pace, content to lie back and take what you give. He could feel your arousal dripping down his shaft, and Namjoon tightens his grip on your hips.

He plants his feet flat on the bed, meeting you halfway with his thrusts. He pulls you down with a hand behind your neck, when your chest meets his he wraps his other arm around your waist and sets a brutal pace.

“Feels so fucking good.” Namjoon groans, “Pussy’s so good—fuck.”

You’re moaning right in his ear, whining, breathless sounds that makes him fuck you harder. Without warning, your thighs squeeze at his sides and you tremble above him. Your orgasm pools in his groin in a gush of warmth, your moans pitching an octave with his name and Namjoon swears, fucking you through it.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl.” Namjoon groans, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He slows his thrusts and gently eases you off him, he settles behind you when you’re on your stomach, lifting your hips to meet his.

Your moans are muffled by the sheets when he thrusts forward. He holds you steady with a hand gripping your waist and the other on the back of your neck. He focuses his thrusts on the spot that makes your walls tighten and drip.

He looks down to watch his cock disappear inside you, and the way your ass jiggles from the force of his thrusts. “Fuc—M’gonna cum. Where you want it?”

You meet his thrusts halfway, “Inside.”

“You sure?” Namjoon pants, slowing down just a bit.

“Yeah—wanna feel you. Please, daddy.”

Lightning shoots down his spine, curses in his mother tongue trapped behind his teeth as he spills his release inside you. He holds you pressed against him, balls deep, moaning at every throb of his cock.

He pulls you closer when he lays down, peppering kisses all over your face and wherever he could reach. When you’ve both caught your breaths, you finally speak, chin propped on your hand on his chest.

“Daddy, huh? That does it for you?” You’re giggling and Namjoon throws an arm over his eyes, groaning.

“Shut up.” He can’t help his smile, “You’re the one who said it, so I think it’s the other way around actually.”

“We’re both gonna lose if we go there.”

A half hour later, after the sheets in the guest bedroom were stripped and you and him are settled for the night in his room, Namjoon wouldn’t change a thing if he had the power to. He’d go into that cafe and sit at your table every time.

Ganymede has no choice in the matter, he would orbit Jupiter as long as she allows it.

Tagging (Bold means i couldn't tag ):) : @xpeachesncream @luaspersona @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @eoieopda @euphoricfilter @mssukeyna @allhobbitstoisengard @dontstoptime @eren-fall @blog-name-idk @idkreallys-blog @thvunaise @menialthoughts

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persphonesorchid · 4 months

Text

Tasting Jealousy - KSJ

Summary: Seokjin is more than happy to accompany you to your company's New Year's Eve party, he's not happy however, that your co-worker is trying to flirt with you. The presence of this man brings up feelings Seokjin thought he left behind him.

Word Count: 3.2k

Genre: COH!au, Cupid!Seokjin x F!Reader, fluff, smut...angst 😀

Warnings: Jealous jinnie, smut (Protected sex bcus Seokjin ain't looking to be a daddy for the new year. Soft Dom jinnie, fingering, kitty spanking - you'll see what I mean lmao.) Jin gets very sad at one point and it gave me flashbacks of a universe in which he left 🤡

Masterlist - HERE

Notes: Happy New year my darlings!! I hope this year brings you lots of joy, love and peace!! Be good to yourselves!!

Now, I love this couple so much and I just can't get away from them ajsjhsha so here you go, my last fic for the year! And guess what? You guys will finally get to know who sent MC the flower arrangements. I know a lot of you were wondering lmao. I hope to write more drabbles for these two...even though is can't be considered a drabble because it got way out of hand 😭 but! I'm not complaining! I hope you guys enjoy!!

this follows Cupid's on Holiday's What If drabble Picking Peonies

“Ranunculus.” The word is a hissed breath between Seokjin’s teeth, eyes narrowing into slits. There’s a muscle twitching just under his eye, and he should be careful. If he grips the champagne flute any tighter the fine glass will shatter.

You pause in the middle of your sentence, fingers brushing his as you take the glass he offers, head turning and tilting back a little to look up at him.

The chatter of the party populous and the soft crackle of Christmas jingles fades into background noise against the rising ring in his ears.

The man who stands across from you both must’ve been raised without manners, that or at least a little common sense. He stands tall, a inch or so shorter than Seokjin if he were to guess. They’re unintentionally matching, both wearing black turtleneck sweaters. Though, Seokjin’s coat is tweed and brushes his knees, the man’s is dark grey and stops where his hands are tucked into the pockets of his black slacks.

Its been about a minute since Seokjin went off to get you both something to drink. A minute since he spotted this man through the crowd and just knew.

It’s been about a minute since he’s walked over here, weaved his way through the crowd with a wide boxy smile and a wave in your direction. A minute of his eyes trailing over your form, lingering over the way the peach fabric accentuates your waist and flutters at your feet in soft waves. A minute since he’d leaned in with a smile and kissed both your cheeks.

A minute of him pretending Seokjin isn’t standing right here, like your arm isn’t linked with his.

Six minutes. Not like Seokjin is counting or anything.

Something burns hot in the back of Seokjin’s mind when you giggle around the syllables that make up this man’s name. You’re smiling at something he said a second ago, but Seokjin is so far in his head he didn’t hear. It’s the kind of smile you give him when he brings you your favourite treat; your cheeks puffing up and squishing your eyes. He doesn’t know if the guy’s actually funny or if you’re only smiling at him to not seem rude.

“This is Seokjin.” You say, and briefly, you look up at him, smile unmoving. There’s a pinch to your brow, probably still wondering what the meaning behind his word earlier was. A bit of pride blooms in his chest with the way you wonder; you’ve long forgotten where his distaste stems.

Seokjin dips his head in greeting when, the man – Taehyung – finally looks over at him. He extends a hand, overhead lights of the venue catching on the face of his watch that Seokjin knows is expensive. He knows because it matches his.

Seokjin shakes his hand firmly, even as Taehyung’s eyes meet yours again with a smile that seems a little more strained and a lot less boxy.

“Strong grip you’ve got there.” Taehyung's chuckle is deep as his hand falls back to his side and Seokjin only hums. “Friend of yours?”

There’s nothing in his tone that gives reason for the feeling that floods Seokjin’s chest. It rises quickly from his feet and burns the back of his neck and ears and he bristles.

“Partner, actually.” There’s an edge to his voice that he knows you’ve caught; you squeeze his arm a little.

“Ah, partner... That’s nice, I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

There’s no way he couldn’t have known.

He’s not in your department, Seokjin knows. This encounter would’ve happened a whole lot sooner had he been. Seokjin had been about your work place many times over this year alone, sometimes for no particular reason. Everyone in your department knows him by now.

Office gossip spreads like a flame in a dry grass field, so it isn’t that he hadn’t known, the man just chose to blatantly ignore it.

Something about that sets Seokjin’s teeth on edge.

“Ah, well, I’m pretty private so that’s fine.” You wave your other hand, the motion careful as not to spill the champagne that sits in it.

You and Taehyung make small talk, and Seokjin drowns in the feeling that’s swimming around his head. You ask him about how his birthday went and Taehyung says it could’ve been better. And there’s a twinkle in his eyes that Seokjin doesn’t like when he says it.

Taehyung smiles, after a while of Seokjin just staring him down. “Well...all my best for the new year.” He says, the curls of his dark hair sways on his forehead when he looks to Seokjin again. “Nice meeting you.”

And like that, he was gone, back through the crowd to linger when he’d came from.

Seokjin feels you shift, and when he looks at you, you’re already watching him.

“What was that about?” you ask, a brow raised.

“What?” Seokjin raises a brow back and you sigh, tapping at his arm with hand that was looped around it.

“Jin...” You say nothing more and Seokjin busies himself with draining the rest of the champagne in his glass. He sets it down on a nearby table and you do the same, unlinking your arm from his to stand in front of him.

“Do you want to leave?” you ask softly.

“We’ve only been here two hours.” Seokjin replies, shaking his head.

“You didn’t answer my question. And besides it wouldn’t be any fun if you’re gonna be like...that for the rest of the night.”

“I’m not being like anything.” His voice is a little harsh, and Seokjin isn’t sure if it’s because he’s being called out. He sighs, brows pinching. “It’s fine. It wouldn’t be fair to you if we leave now.”

“I don’t mind, that’s why I asked. If you don’t want to stay that’s okay.”

“Why’re you so stubborn? Stop pushing it.”

You step away from him, eyes rolling as you step past.

“Where are you going?” Seokjin calls, turning as you walk, following the motion of your body with his.

“The bathroom.” You snap and Seokjin stares until you disappear into the throng of people.

There’s a low whistle behind him and Seokjin slowly turns, hackles raised again.

Taehyung is back. Barely seems to be paying him mind as he fills a plate with finger food and snacks. The long rectangular table is tucked into a corner, laden with different types of foods. He’s a bit away, but Seokjin’s certain he heard the exchange if the little smile he donned was anything to go by.

“Trouble in paradise?” He nods with his chin in the direction you stomped off to, picking a mini sandwich off his plate.

“Just a small fire. Containable. Although, I don’t see how that’s any business of yours.” If Seokjin’s eyes could narrow any further, he’d close them.

Taehyung lifts his shoulder in a shrug, “Just worrying, she’s my friend after all. Would hate to see her not have a good time.”

“Right.” Seokjin says, and then takes a breath. He doesn’t have to entertain this. He turns on his heel, walking through the crowd towards the bathrooms.

He finds you just coming out, pulling the lace of your sleeves back down to your wrists. He takes your hand, “We’re leaving.”

“Okay.”

You follow without complaint or question. Once outside, Seokjin gives you his coat because he doesn’t need it, a hand on the small of your back as he leads you to where he parked. Ever the gentleman, he opens the door for you and waits until you’re situated before going around and getting in.

He turns the heat on, and the drive is silent.

After a moment of your eyes burning into the side of his head, you finally speak: “Are you okay?”

“M’fine.” Seokjin tries to keep the edge out his tone because there’s no reason to snap at you.

You still catch it, and Seokjin sighs when you go quiet. His teeth aches when he clenches his jaw, grip tight on the steering wheel. It wasn’t long before he’s pulling into the parking lot of the apartment and you’re out the car first.

The way up to your apartment is silent, and it continues until you’re both inside, taking your shoes off at the door.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong now?”

Seokjin feels guilt knot his stomach as you stare at him, a patient look on your face.

“I’m sorry. It’s just...”

There was still a lot of things Seokjin was getting used to. It’s been a year since he decided to break every rule set for him and stay with you. There are times when he’s blissfully unaware of it. When he’s tucked it into the far reaches of his mind in a box under lock and key and it doesn’t bother him. Sometimes though, like now, it rattles along the inside of his head, bouncing off corners.

Taehyung is the one who sent you that horrid floral arrangement on valentines day. It had long stopped irritating him whenever thought about it. The initial jealousy had come and crested like a wave and was gone then. Now it crashes in like a tsunami.

It’s not just jealousy he feels, but a strange sense of being lost. Like he’s walking through a fog with a blindfold. He’s aware of what he did, when he decided to turn his back on his duty and be selfish. He knows well there are some things he can’t ever give you.

A normal, happy life is one of them.

He can give you whatever you ask for, anything you want it’s yours without question. But what happens later? Years down the road and you’re married to him and he can’t give you the one thing you’ll want then.

The person meant for you could give that to you.

He’s being selfish. You’ve never complained, but Seokjin knows you must’ve wondered about it by now. The what if. Maybe...perhaps it would've been better if he'd followed through with leaving then...

“Jin?” you call softly, ducking your head a bit to meet his gaze, “Talk to me, what is it?”

“Do you regret it?” His voice is just as soft, looking down at his feet. He looks up, somewhere above your head, sighing, “Do you know that he’s the one who sent you those flowers?”

You seem confused for a moment, and then recollection lights in your eyes. “Oh! Oh...Jin.” you chuckle a bit and step closer.

“Don’t laugh, it’s not funny.” Seokjin groans, and meets you halfway when you reach for him. Your fingers dance at the nape of his neck and Seokjin pulls you closer by the waist.

“Is that what was bothering you?”

He can only hum, and you chuckle again. The warmth of your hand rubs circles against his back and he feels that warmth seep into his bones and settle there.

“I don’t regret anything. None of it.” You murmur against his neck, and Seokjin pulls away, cupping your cheek with a hand. His thumb gently caresses, and he meets your eyes for the first time in a while and calls your name softly.

“There are things that I can’t give you.”

“So?”

There’s a fierce look in your eyes that makes Seokjin wrap his next set of words up neatly and swallow them.

“None of that matters. You’re more than enough.”

Seokjin closes the gap between you both, pressing his lips firmly to yours. The arm at your waist pulls you close and the hand that sits at the side of your neck tails into your hair to tug at the many pins that you’d secured it with.

He spins you with practiced ease, pressing your back against the wall of the entryway and crowding your space.

He places a kiss at the corner of your mouth just to tease, and chuckles when you chase. His kisses trail along your jaw, stopping just below your ear, and he takes the lobe between his teeth.

The little sound you make shoots down his spine, and he feels your fingers curl into the fabric of his sweater. He taps at your waist, his hand trailing over the curve of your ass and he gives you a moment to settle your arms securely around his neck before he lifts.

He doesn’t need to see where he’s going to find his way to your bedroom, and he busies himself with kissing and marking the skin he could reach. The fingers of his other hand finding the zipper at the back of your dress to tug down.

He sets you on your feet, pulling back just enough to help you out of your dress, his eyes still closed as he trails his lips over your collarbone, pushing the fabric off your body until it pools at your feet. Your skin is warm where he touches, he ghosts his fingers along your sides and revels the way you visibly shiver.

The bralette you chose for the night is lace and hides nothing from his hooded gaze, your nipples taut from the chill and his caress. He thumbs at the peaks, and when you tug on the hem of his sweater, he tuts at your impatience.

His hand slides up your back, unclasping the bralette and pushing you gently back until you hit the bed. The straps slide down your arms and he tugs it off, palming at a breast with a groan trapped behind his teeth.

“Jin..” you sigh his name and Seokjin hums, tilting his head at you.

He leans into you and you fall back. Seokjin holds his weight on his hands just above tour shoulders, and his knees trapping your thighs between them. He watches you blink up at him with some confusion as he simply stares.

“Let me ask you something.” He says, and then he shift, getting onto the bed and sitting with his back against the headboard. He curls his fingers at you, and with a bit of uncertainty tinting your form you follow. He settles you between his spread legs, pressing a kiss to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder as he traces patterns against the skin of your thighs.

He spreads you legs with a gentle hand, bringing his legs up a bit so that the back of your knees hooks against his thigh. Seokjin brings his hand down quickly, the lace of your underwear does nothing to shield you from it and he chuckles when your surprised whine meets his ears. He feels you trying to snap your legs shut as the sting of his hand runs through you, the way your back arches away from his chest.

“Tell me, sweet girl.” Seokjin coos, and he decides to be nice, rubbing soothing circles against your lace covered pussy. He could feel just how wet you are, your panties slide against your slick skin with his movements, damp against his hand. “Do you think you’re deserving of my touch right now?”

Your exhale rattles against his chest, and he waits patiently for your answer. He allows you a moment to think, and he knows it’s hard, as his fingers tease at the seam of your underwear, slipping underneath to find the wetness there.

“I am.” You finally say.

“Oh, are you?” Seokjin chuckles, dipping a finger into the warmth of you just to hear your gasping moan. He presses the finger against your clit, circling once, twice, and then he stops. “Do you want me to tell you why you’re not?”

Seokjin kisses your jaw, and the slight shift of your hips doesn’t go unnoticed. “You let that man get near you. Allowed him to act like I wasn’t there. Ignored the way he was looking at you.”

“Jin, it wasn’t...”

“Shh,” Seokjin shushes you gently, fingers resuming the slow, torturous grind against your clit. “I should make you cum until you cry.”

The whimper you let out makes his slacks feel constricting. He sinks two fingers, knuckle deep into you and kisses your neck when your head lulls back against his shoulder. He watches the way his hand moves under your panties, curling his fingers against the spot that makes your toes curl.

He presses the heel of his palm against your clit, and runs his tongue along the shell of your ear when your pussy clenches and your moans go up in pitch.

“Close already?” Seokjin coos mockingly, a chuckle on his exhale. The fingers of his other hand pinching lightly at your nipples, and then he stops, “That’s too bad, then.”

Your groan holds frustration and Seokjin unhooks your legs from his. He stands to rid himself of his clothes, his cock hard and weeping when it slaps lightly against his stomach. The reaction you invoke in him has never changed, a shiver slithers down his spine and watches at your tongue darts out to moisten your lips. You reach a hand out to him and Seokjin takes it, bending a little at his waist to press kisses against your fingers.

He fishes a condom from your nightstand – ever mindful – and then crawls between your legs, taking a moment to slide your panties down them.

“Okay?” He asks to make sure that you’re okay to continue, that he’s not driving you too hard.

You nod, and you lift your hips, pressing his cock between your wet heat and his stomach. Seokjin groans against your lips, tightening his grip against your thigh.

He moves his hips, pulling back and then pushing into you with slow, languid strokes. He kisses you tenderly, his tongue exploring your mouth. When his fingers brush against your clit, the way your core tightens around his cock has him seeing stars. His thrusts gets faster, and he knows just how quickly you’re hurdling towards your end, he watches every minute expression. The way your eyes squeeze shut and how your lips curl around his name, the scratching of your nails down his back.

Just as you reach the peak, Seokjin moves his hand away and slows his thrusts, leaving you trembling and whining. He smiles against your lips, and whispers, “Let’s take this slow.” He kisses you again, his thrusts becoming slower and gentler.

He continues to move in and out of you at a slow, steady pace, taking his time to bring you to the edge of pleasure again and again. Eventually, he begins to speed up, and he moves his hand back to your clit, sending you over the edge into a powerful orgasm.

“Fuck.” Seokjin groans, following not long after, his forehead against your collarbone. There’s a ringing in ears when he comes down, and he presses a kiss to your sternum before pulling away.

After you were both cleaned up and the sheets were changed, Seokjin holds you close as you both watch the couple of minutes tick by until midnight.

“Do you have any resolutions?” Your head is against his chest, a leg over his hip.

He traces patterns against your thigh, thinking quietly. This is another one of those human things that he wouldn’t ever grasp. You rang in the last new year with Yoongi and Hoseok while he was busy with his duties with the other Cupids in the area, so you must’ve had this question for a while.

Seokjin hums softly, “Loving you. That’s it.” He smiles when you giggle and when the fireworks start up at the stroke of midnight you both watch them light up the night sky through your open window.

“Happy New Year, Jinnie.”

Seokjin turns, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss and he whispers the words back to you.

You both lay there for a moment, quiet, and then Seokjin speaks: “You know, I could make him fall in love with his office chair or something.”

“Jin.”

tagging: @xpeachesncream @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @blog-name-idk @madbutgloriouspond @euphoricfilter @luaspersona @mssukeyna @allhobbitstoisengard @eoieopda @minmin2022 @liveyun

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