summary ↠ Adulting has never been fun–especially during the hours of nine-to-five when it’s been said the inescapable feelings of stress and frustration reign. Luckily, on this particular day of shitty circumstances and discourteous bosses, your best friend Jin is there is let you vent and cheer you up…and maybe a little more.
genre ↠ *sighs* honestly, it’s a little bit of everything (fluff, angst, smut) member ↠ kim seokjin warnings ↠ heavy petting, fondling word count ↠ 3.9k
Jin is startled out of the alluring realm of literature clutched within the station of his graceful digits when the front door slams shut with an aggressive thud. From his place on the couch, he turns to see you angrily kicking your shoes off at the entrance, your brow drawn crudely as your lips move with light mumblings to yourself. He watches with puzzlement as you toss your bag away negligently, not even batting an eye when it crashes against the wall, your phone, along with other random belongings, tumbling out into a pile. The closer you get, the easier it is for him to hear you grumbling under your breath, incoherent bashings stemming from a place of obvious frustration that’s written all over your contorted face.
You pass by the couch with heavy steps, Jin noticing your fists clenched into little, tense balls at your side. Without even glancing in Jin’s direction, you pound into the vast kitchen, almost ripping the door of the fridge off its hinges as you search for a bottle of water to at least cure the effects of the annoying humidity latching onto you from the walk here.
Tearing the cap off of the beverage and kicking the fridge shut behind you, you guzzle the clear liquid down with fervency, pouring just a fraction of your irritation into the action. You crush the bottle between the clench of your fingers, throwing it haphazardly into the trash can before yanking the too-tight knot of your updo out of the hair-tie allowing your locks to cascade freely around your shoulders, a hand flying up to massage out the soreness of your scalp. Still mumbling almost inaudibly to yourself, you fling the small hair-tie away as if it’s going to break into a million satisfying pieces against the counter, disappointment prodding you when it remains just an unhelpful stress relief landing softly on the marble surface.
Steel footed steps carry you from the kitchen, across the carpet, and towards where Jin is still perched, book in hand, staring wide eyed at the girl who has just barged into the dorm unannounced with the wake of hell. He jolts as you flop your weight onto the cushion of the couch next to him, your arms crossing tensely over your torso as you fix your eyes against the stagnant black of the TV hanging on the wall. From this close, Jin can make out the taught motion of your jaw reacting to the irked bite of your teeth.
Jin waits in the muffled silence for a moment, expecting you to eventually speak, but when he realizes you aren’t even fully aware of his presence next to you, he clears his throat. “So…bad day?”
It’s then that you explode. “OH MY GOD, JIN. Who does my boss even think she is? I mean, I file one thing in the wrong place, and she flies off the wall, having the audacity to accuse me of being incompetent, like she knows me or something! What? I’m not allowed to not be perfect? Everyone knows she spends more time in her office on Pintrest than doing her actual job, Jesus.”
Despite your intense eruption, Jin’s face softens, a relieved smile sighing into his lips. It usually takes ages to get you to talk about what’s bothering you, so any sort of explanation this early in the conversation is a solace to him. “Are you going to be okay?”
You huff. “I’m perfectly fine, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” He can’t hold the amused grin vying for a spot on his lips. “Because it looks like you’re feeling a little violent.”
“I am not feeling violent,” you scoff in defense. “I’m feeling creative with weapons.”
Jin laughs brightly, the twinkling and high-pitched sound sending out a little warmth into the frigid atmosphere surrounding you. “You’re dangerous when you get creative,” he chuckles, holding his hands up.
“Yeah, let’s hope my boss locks her doors at night. I won’t be held responsible if she happens to miss work tomorrow.” Despite Jin’s gentle giggle, the familiar sound threatening to sedate you, you remain steadfast in your slump, sinking down into the couch as your head falls backwards and your eyes close, chest heaving with a sigh.
“I’m sure things will blow over by tomorrow,” Jin encourages, placing a gentle hand on the curve of your shoulder, his eyes trailing the momentary placidity of your features as your initial angry energy begins to tire. “Private spats like that are usually forgotten by then.”
Jin suddenly sees your eyes squeeze even tighter in closing, the crease of your lids disappearing entirely under the scrunch of your brows. His eyes widen as your face morphs, the previously frustrated and stony nature of it melting into a weary and worn out shape, the red circles under your eyes becoming more prominent against the shadowed lighting of the room.
“Jin…” you speak, your voice miles calmer but coated in a frail rasp, the aggression of a moment ago fading out to be replaced by a seeping disquiet. Jin’s smile vanishes, a frazzled worry taking it’s place as he recognizes your sudden shift, uncertain of its origin but disrelishing the way its making you look so upset.
The book now forgotten on the coffee table, he situates his body so he’s facing you, one leg pulled up on the couch in front of him, his arm rounding the back of the sofa where you’re seated. “Y/N, what? What’s wrong?”
His entirety stills as you suddenly shift next to him, your body lolling sideways as your forehead comes to a soft rest in the slope between his neck and shoulder. You take a selfish moment’s revel in the smooth warmth of his skin, seeking out the comfort of his easy presence: the reason you raced here after the scene at work instead of going to wallow in your own home. Jin’s arm subconsciously wraps around the hill of your shoulders, long fingers pressing gingerly against your fabric clad skin in reassurance.
“Jin,” you repeat in the same broken tone, your throat clenching with an undesired sting as your memory begins to replay the scene. Frustration mixes with embarrassment at your inability to stop your eyes from prickling uncomfortably just after you had gotten yourself under control. You’d resolved to anger instead of this just before bursting through the front door. You swallow hard to tame the tension building there, wishing to be filled with aggression again instead of being unwillingly reduced to this sorry state by your bossy emotions.
“Y/N, it’s me,” Jin coaxes, worry only being watered by your silence. “You can talk to me.”
The baby-like strokes his fingers, brushing away the strands of fallen hair curtaining the small bit of your exposed and red face, pry away the last bit of your pride. “She did it in front of the whole office,” you admit shakily, the restrained tears dripping in the tone of your voice. “Everyone was watching me and listening to her say those cruel things. It was humiliating.”
Understanding suddenly befalls Jin’s face, your blue confession tugging at his heart. He knows that your distress is only made worse by the fact that you just started this new job, troubled even more with the notion that your coworkers might just believe the things being said about you before you could imprint on them yourself.
“I know it’s not that big of a deal, but I just–” Your downplay is cut off by a short choke caught in your pained throat, damp eyes squeezing shut against the fabric of Jin’s shirt, willing yourself to pull it together.
The soft tut of Jin’s mouth above you comes just before the brush of his hand falls across the plane of your back, a consoling rhythm painting itself out over your spine. “Y/N, it doesn’t matter if it’s a big deal or not. It matters to you, so it matters to me.”
“Everyone probably thinks I’m such an idiot,” you exasperate into his shoulder, eased into expression by his kind words. You notice that your fingers have found their way into the excess material of Jin’s top below you, gentle digits playing absentmindedly in the small comfort of his nearness.
“It doesn’t matter what they think of you, does it?” he advises maturely, the safety in the sureness of his tone dotting a placid trail of tingles along your arms. “It matters what you are. And what you are is a compassionate, hardworking, empathetic, intelligent ball of unstoppable creativity. So creative that you could probably think up a million new ways for weapons to be used for helping humanity instead of harming it. That’s the kind of beautiful and good-hearted person you are, Y/N, and no amount of bullshit from your boss can change that truth.”
By the time Jin’s confession is done tumbling eloquently from his pink lips, your head is lifting off of his shoulder to gaze up at him with glossy eyes. “Do you really mean that?”
“Of course, I do,” he laughs at your unbelief. He scans your face for a moment, dark eyes getting distracted by the adorable and childish puff of your cheeks and the way your eyes are even more vibrant after a fresh wash of tears, ever-beautiful with your jutted bottom lip still slightly shaking. A placate grin weaves its way lazily into the web of his features as he takes you in, his free hand still gently pressing rogue hairs away from the frame of your picture.
“If you want to set up a meeting, I’d be happy to come in to your work and give my speech again,” Jin offers teasingly, now desiring to see the other end of your emotional spectrum. “With all my recent MC-ing gigs, I’ve basically become a professional public speaker. That mixed with this handsome face? Who wouldn’t believe me when I say you’re wonderful?”
His jibbing words spur a giggle that vibrates out from your chest, the sound reading oddly in your ears after all the dejection. “Always so full of yourself,” you tease back, playfully shoving his chest as he grins that sweet smile at you. You find yourself unable to break the mirror of his beam, reflecting back your own minute grin as he snatches your hand away from his chest.
“That’s my girl,” he dotes, absorbing the scene of your lips curling serenely, the way it bunches your face up into a vision of perfect apple cheeks and a button nose. As he breathes in the sight of you grinning endearingly, unaware of the way your chaste giggles make his heart race, he bravely reaches out a hand and swiftly wiggles it against your side, eliciting the much desired response of your high pitched squeals in protest.
“Kim Seokjin, don’t you dare,” you warn, your eyes twinkling with a newfound energy as the subject of your distraction grins mischievously. Without heed, Jin’s hands dart out once more, an iron grip resting around your hips as you’re tugged towards him. All hope is lost as you’re surrounded by the warmth of Jin, being tucked away in the pocket of his legs as he attacks, lithe fingers skirting over the skin at your sides and neck, the two most vulnerable areas, as you’re subjected to unrelenting belly laughs surging up from the pit of your stomach. Your hands press against the planes of Jin’s chest, desperately trying to escape his clutches, but all in vain, the strength of his hold only being fed by the jovial sound of your laughter filling his ears.
“Stop! Stop, please! It hurts, it hurts,” you laugh giddily, one hand swatting away at Jin while the other clutches your happily sore stomach. Thankfully, Jin’s tickles cease, his fingers remaining in the curve of your waist as your matching laughter dies out. As the blur of happy tears clears away from your eyes, they come to rest only inches from Jin’s face, unaware of how close you two had gotten in the midst of his cheering up. Your body stalls in his lap as your eyes flit, suddenly nervous, across his features, the smooth melanin tone of his skin glowing against the dimming light filtering in through the window. Soft, minty breath pants gently between the pillows of his parted lips, the peeking of his dazzling teeth hidden behind. Dark lashes hood the pools of chocolate brown swimming in the whites of his eyes, the details blurred amongst the irises now visible in the varying shades of cocoa ringed in layers around his pupil.
You’re acutely aware of where your hands rest in the junctures of his neck and shoulders, thumbs brushing the rise of his protruding collarbone that has come to light at the jaunty shift of his shirt. Jin’s eyes hover over every inch of your face, reinspecting the already memorized location of the faded freckles dotting just over the bridge fo your nose, the baby mole hidden against your jawline, and the almost imperceptible scar carved into the edge of your eyebrow from a playground accident as a child. He soaks in every blemish and perfect imperfection upon your person, his throat clenching with the familiar pit of desire as his gaze lands upon your lips, pale pink and pouty, slightly parted in pause as you stare wide eyed up at him.
Something in your stomach contracts, tensing with an emotion you’ve never experienced with Jin before. You flinch at the feeling, having the momentary thought to pull yourself out of Jin’s grasp, but finding yourself unable to, the strange sensation spurring an undying curiosity.
Jin swallows, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort, before he speaks. “I don’t know if it’s because you look especially tempting right now, but…I want to kiss you.”
Your heart hammers out of your chest at Jin’s admission, the sensation in your tummy only intensifying with a burn as his tongue darts out involuntarily to gloss his plump lips. You gulp deeply as your eyes train themselves on the cupid’s line of his mouth, mesmerized suddenly by the vision of them.
Jin’s eyes glance up to yours then, his statement still hanging heavily in the air between the two of you. As the fire in your stomach rages, it ignites something that you know won’t be doused easily. Still unsure of yourself or the feeling bubbling inside of you, you stare up at your best friend in a way you never have before, suddenly very aware of the way your body is subconsciously curling into Jin’s.
“Y/N…” he breathes out slowly, his eyes blurring as they study you. “I really want to kiss you.”
You barely feel your head bobbing forward with a whisper of stunned permission, watching with wide eyes as an almost hungry need passes over Jin’s face, a glint of something unfamiliar to you flashing in his irises. His eyes return to gaze at your lips, wetting his own absentmindedly once more as his head descends the short distant to yours. His lips pause for just a moment, hovering centimeters away from your own as he allows you a moment to rethink your options, but you can’t bring yourself to think about anything other the blush red of Jin’s pout hanging tantalizingly over yours.
Impatience surges through your body, the aching tug in your chest unbearable in this stall propelling you to apply the finishing pressure at the nape of Jin’s neck, pulling him the remaining micro distance to your lips. The moment the blanket of his kiss covers you, you feel like you’re melting into a puddle of noodle limbs and numb muscles, the only thing you feel being the extreme sensitivity of every nerve ending in your body lighting at once.
Once Jin recovers from the fraction of shock at your initiation, he greedily presses himself to you, a nimble hand cradling you to his chest while the other languidly trails up your side to plant itself on the curve of your neck, gooseflesh exploding under the deft working of his fingers. His mouth moves against yours adeptly, the ecstasy and bliss of the long awaited feeling of your lips laid flush with desire against his almost overwhelming.
You gain self-assurance at the roaming of Jin’s wide hands over your body, completely unaware, until now, of just how desperate you are for his touch, suppressed desire unfurling from its slumber in the pit of your stomach, the fuel to your fire. Your hands raise to tangle themselves in the garden of his black tendrils, your nails biting at his scalp to tug a rumbling moan from the back of his throat. Strong arms lower themselves to your waist, yanking you up from your position off the side of his lap and prompting you to swing your leg over the other side in order to straddle his thighs, all without breaking his precious connection.
From this new location, he takes advantage of how much closer he can get to you, pressing your chest flush against his with a needy palm. The entirety of your arms slings around his neck, feeling unable to get enough of his figure within your reach. Jin’s fingers slide delicately down the side of your waist, this time eliciting tingles instead of giggles, as he bravely pushes the fabric of your top up a few inches exposing the tempting skin of your hip and the soft slope of your tummy. Jin greedily gropes the newly solicited flesh, methodically rubbing various shapes into your muscles, causing a fresh wave of heat to bubble in your stomach.
Tilting his head to the side, Jin deepens the kiss, his tongue sponging a stripe along your captive bottom lip, seeking entry into a more intimate part of you. You gasp at the sudden prodding, Jin not missing a beat as he eagerly presses into your mouth, his tongue administering a playful and easy fight with your own. His pearl-like teeth find a hold around the flesh of your bottom lip, biting gently, but enough to shoot jolts through your skin, causing you to jump a bit in his arms with a smothered squeal. You feel him grin amusedly against your mouth, holding you tightly against him as his chest vibrates with laughter.
It’s with taxed lungs that you pull away for a moment, only to catch your breath, but Jin’s mouth chases after yours nonetheless, whining with objection at the loss of contact. You giggle at his childish pout before he grips your chin between his fingers, tilting you towards him as he feverishly reconnects your lips to his, moving desperately against you.
“How will I ever get enough of you now that I know what you taste like?” Jin pants, detaching himself from you only to move his unrelenting administrations along the line of your jaw and down your neck, using his firm fingers to tilt your head for easier access. He comes to rest on the smooth skin just under your ear, jolting you when he suddenly begins to harshly suck the flesh, the sting blooming under his mouth quickly soothed by the cool stripe of his tongue drawing over it.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he continues to spill in between his stops along the curve of your throat. Your head is thrown back in rapture, reduced to nothing under his spine-melting kisses, until your attentions are drawn back down to where you can feel the excitement of Jin press against you, the reaction to the heat in his own stomach manifesting itself. Your eyes widen as you take him in, trying your best to address his desire while under the blurring distraction of his lips working over your skin.
Thoughts begin to sift through your head, but you anxiously push them aside, unwilling for any of your nerves or over-thought to pull the closeness of this beautiful man from your mind’s front. Steeling yourself with the wish to please Jin as much as he’s pleasing you, you release half of your hold in his hair, your hand trailing down his unaware body to the rise of his trousers where your trembling and inexperienced fingers brush over his arousal.
A sharp hiss cuts between Jin’s clenched teeth, the pleasured sound sedating you. Your fingers halt upon him, unsure of what to do next, until Jin speaks, his arms coiling closely around your shoulders as he pulls back the hair from over your ear, whispering, “Please don’t stop.”
His voice sends chills down your spine that begin turning the cogs in your body again, your fingers trailing over the line of his member a few more times, reveling in the feeling of his long figure squirming with need against yours. You bravely expand your hand, pressing the plane of your palm around him and rubbing slowly, deliberately, blissfully listening to the soft moans and hisses of pleasure seeping from Jin’s clenched throat, his head resting on your shoulder as you work.
Continuing your gentle massage, Jin lolls his head sideways, meeting your hooded gaze as he seeks out your lips once more, this time more ginger than before. The softness of his swollen pout becomes infinitely more intimate as he takes his time with you, lazy and lovely strokes of his tongue brushing against yours. You feel his wide hand paint a line down to the raised hem of your shirt again, his fingers fitting themselves under the fabric to run against the flesh over your ribs, delicate pads coming to a stop just under the lining of your bra.
“I want to make you to feel good too,” he barely whispers, his lips ghosting over your face as he speaks in a raspy octave. You groan with permission as Jin’s hand slips slowly under the fabric of your support, phantom fingers tracing the underside of your sensitive flesh, allowing you time to get used to the sensation before he has you mewling for more. You feel him grin against your cheek as your head falls against his chest, groaning with gratification as he gingerly palms your breast, his thumb passing over the rise of your nipple, making you wriggle against him. You fist the fabric of his shirt in between your fingers as his other hand joins the cause, placating the matching hill of flesh with equal attention.
After a few moments, he has you squirming in his lap, a win-win for him as your thighs grind into his arousal, satiating his needs along with your own. Once the pleasure becomes to much, you eagerly search for his lips again, desiring to alleviate some of the build-up by sponging your affection against him. It’s to your reluctance that Jin pulls away, panting heavily as he rests his forehead against yours. Despite your disappointment that the beauty before you has retreated for the time being, you have to admit your gratefulness for a chance to recuperate, the sudden turn of the events tonight leaving you with a lot to mull through.
Glancing up, you meet Jin’s already staring eyes, two lopsided grins slowly mirroring each other as incredulous and elated laughter spills out between the both of you. Jin’s hand raises to cup your cheek, his thumb skimming the disappearing redness under your glossy eyes. “Feel better?”
You grin stupidly, rolling your eyes up in mock thought. “Hmm, I don’t know…” you joke, not really expecting the dark and teasingly tantalizing look that appears on Jin’s face.
“I think I know how to fix that.” He grins wickedly, laughter echoing throughout the dorm as he scoops you up in his arms, all of the humiliation and self-doubt of an hour ago long forgotten as you’re whisked happily away to Jin’s bedroom where more newfound fun awaits.
summary ↠ You don’t deserve it, and Namjoon knows that. He wishes you did. He wants nothing more than to strip you of every bruise and abrasion you’ve soaked up in the name of “love” if it meant he could show you what it’s really supposed to look like. And when you show up unannounced on his doorstep in the early hours of the morning, running once more from the abuse you always turn back to, he does just that.
genre ↠ANGST, friendstolovers!au member ↠kim namjoon warnings ↠themes of domestic abuse word count ↠2.3k
It’s nearly 4 in the morning when Namjooon is jolted from slumber by the shrill buzzing of his phone underneath his pillow, his heavy lids pulling themselves apart with great reluctance as he fishes blindly for the humming device. Finally, his fingers detect the object, yanking it clumsily to his ear as his head falls back into the pillow.
“Hello?” he breathes, the husk of his sleep ridden voice groaning through the receiver.
“Joon? It’s me,” you reveal hoarsely, trying your best to keep your voice level through the prickling tears that are threatening to spill over in a fresh wave. You press the phone closer to your own ear, your free hand wrapped around yourself in an effort to shield against the biting chill of the night breezing over your exposed skin.
“Y/N?” Namjoon’s voice is immediately perked, confusion laced within the fuzzy sounds of him sitting up in bed. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
You ignore his prodding, swallowing the painful burn in the back of your clenched throat. “I’m outside.”
“What? I-I’m on my way down,” he stutters, obviously caught off guard by your surprise visit. You’ve randomly shown up at the dorms late at night more times than you could count in your years of friendship with Namjoon, but never have you made an appearance sounding as troubled as you do tonight.
You end the call with a shaky thumb, shoving the phone back into your pocket as you shift on your feet, waiting for the large front door of the dorm house to be pulled open by the person you want to see most right now. It seems like forever and then some before the wooden obstruction finally swings away to reveal a sleep-tossed Namjoon standing in the frame. His loose sweatpants hang low on his hips, the giant sweater he obviously just threw on bunched at the bottom to divulge a thin strip of his melanin skin. The soft brown of his hair is sticking up at odd angles, hardly taming the pillow induced look when he runs his long fingers through it.
He squints against the glare of the streetlight as he takes in your figure standing timidly on the doorstep, recognizing instantly the old jacket wrapped around your torso that you stole from him before he left for the last tour. His eyes soften as they rake over the state of your face: flushed cheeks, red-puffed eyes raw from being rubbed too much, and a splotchy complexion, only confirming the suspicions he’d had mulling through his head on the way downstairs.
Namjoon takes a step outside, reaching his hand out in your direction to prompt you over to him. “Come on, it’s cold out here,” he says gently, smiling that comforting smile as you approach, allowing him to take your clammy palm in his as he tugs you into the warmth and darkness of the quiet house.
“Do you want some water?” he inquires as you follow closely behind him through the kitchen on the way to the stairs. Glancing back over his shoulder, Namjoon sees you nod tinily and softly grins as he releases your hand at the counter, venturing further in to quietly fill a glass with the clear liquid. He rejoins you a moment later, retaking your hand in his without a word as the two of you continue to silently trek the rest of the way up to Namjoon’s room.
It’s the same as it’s always been; His wide bed is strewn with an assortment of sheets and blankets, never situated quite right since Namjoon fidgets in his sleep. The walls are littered with boards covered in his countless ideas, song lyrics, and random quotes that he finds inspiring while the floor is kept spotless-one of his pet peeves. His laptop has been left open like usual on his small desk, the pieces of a new song he’s been working on glowing softly on the screen. The scene around you, lit by nothing more than the beams of the moon through the window, mixed with the familiar scent of Namjoon’s cologne sends a wash of calm through your body, allowing a deep, and much needed, breath to fill your lungs.
Once Namjoon has gingerly pressed the door shut behind the both of you, he moves to sit on the edge of his bed, his lanky legs splayed out as he looks up to where you’re standing, your eyes to the floor, picking at your nails.
“What’s wrong, Y/N?” he finally speaks into the silence, causing you to flinch.
“Nothing’s wrong,” you lie, forcing yourself to meet his gaze with a fake smile that only makes you lip begin to tremble once again. You bite down on it hard until you regain control. “Can’t I miss my best friend?”
Namjoon holds your gaze for a good while, analyzing your face with diligence before he reaches out and wraps his nimble fingers around your wrist, ever-so-gently pulling you forward into the gap of his legs. “Is it Joowon again?”
When you don’t answer, your eyes remaining downcast, Namjoon sighs. “Y/N, this is the third time in two months you’ve come here because of him. Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine,” you cut, not trusting your voice to handle anything longer than that without breaking.
“Then what is this?” Namjoon presses carefully. He slowly lifts your hand where he has gripped your wrist, removing his fingers to unveil the rich, purple bruising shadowing your skin. Flinching, you yank your hand away, hiding it behind your back as you avoid Namjoon’s steady gaze. With a trembling chest and burning throat, you listen as Namjoon speaks the words that sends your facade crumbling down around you.
“Y/N, does he…does he hit you?”
A wellspring of tears chokes up your throat, your face contorting with a silent gasp as your chest aches in frustration and defeat. You fall forward into the pull of Namjoon, crashing into him and burying your soaked features into the warm fabric of his sweater, the comfortable heat of his body seeping through. You wrap your weak arms around his narrow middle, squeezing him against you as tightly as you can in an attempt to rid yourself of the tension prodding your sore muscles. Namjoon responds instantly, his own eyes blinking back a prickling heat as he feels you come undone against him, the pain and dejection of the past few months spilling over in this utterly tragic expression.
His strong and lengthy arms coax you into his embrace, one wide palm stroking the expanse of your hair as the other trails a consoling pattern against your spine. You feel the pressure of his cheek against the crown of your head, prompting your hands to fist themselves in the excess material of his top. After a moment, you briefly note that Namjoon has situated you over his lap, your legs dangling off the side as he cradles your sobbing body against his shape.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispers chastely, not trying to upset you any further, but needing answers.
“I’m sorry,” is all you can choke out in between the wracking gasps of your lungs, the taxation of tears rolling full force now.
Namjoon gently hushes you, placing your head into the crook of his neck as he begins rocking back and forth. “None of this is your fault, do you hear me?” he addressed sternly. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for anything. Don’t even apologize to me, okay?”
It’s all you can do to nod into his chest, squeezing your fist tighter around the fabric over his stomach, your knuckles pressing against the firm muscles hidden underneath.
There’s another moment purely filled with the sounds of your staggered sobs before Namjoon speaks again. “You don’t deserve this. Why don’t you leave him?”
Your eyes are inflamed with the effort of crying, burning as you squeeze them shut in internal frustration. “I c-can’t leave him, Namjoon,” you stutter through your tears, feeling a fleeting guilt for soaking Namjoon’s perfectly fine sweater. “H-He’s all I have.”
“That’s not true,” Namjoon negates, lithe fingers trailing up your neck and resting under you trembling chin. “You have us.” He gingerly lifts your tear-stained gaze to meet his, his big, coffee-brown eyes searching your face with a soft sincerity. “You have me.”
“If I don’t have him, who else will want me?” you snivel, looking at Namjoon’s familiar face with desperate eyes. His heart wrenches as he takes in your expression, how much you actually believe those lies evident in the acute furrowing of your brows. He realizes with great sadness that the relationship he had painfully allowed you to participate in, a relationship he also had done nothing to stop until this point, has snapped the inside of the person you once were–unashamed and unapologetic–and morphed you into a fragmented shadow, convinced that your abilities and attributes are reliant of Joowon’s opinion of you.
Namjoon breathes deeply, realizing that the moment he has been sizing up in his head for the past two years has fallen into his lap. Literally. Unable to keep his thoughts at bay, his heart begins hammering wildly, the puffy and red face, hiccuping with tears before him, causing his throat to clench with want as his eyes trail down to plumped lips. His tongue involuntarily darts out to wet his own lips as he scans the unaware expression of your face, the heartache, desire, and need to rid you of this sadness overwhelming.
You lean into the palm of Namjoon’s warm and expansive hand as his thumb gently caresses away the rogue tears littering your cheek, your shaking body shifting slightly as his grip around your waist tugs. You meet his doe-eyes to find them hooded with something different than before, glancing methodically from your irises, down, and back up again.
A few more careful swipes of his thumb across your cheek console you before his finger strays off course, moving slowly towards yours lips as it begins to lethargically trace the outline of your cupid’s bow.
“I want you,” he barely whispers before closing the gap between your encroaching mouths.
The sensation that blooms in your stomach as Namjoon’s full, pink lips fit against yours is unfamiliar. Your brain tells you to pull away, but your taxed body responds in a different manner, leaning into the feeling of his hands carefully sheltering your cheeks. Namjoon’s lips stay still against yours for a moment, giving you time to adjust to the sudden connection as he tests the waters. Your heart begins pounding in a new way as all of the emotions spilling over transition into something nothing short of desire.
Letting all logic escape you, you gently run your hands up the expanse of Namjoon’s chest, coming to rest over his prominent collar bones and exploring the soft slopes of his skin before venturing further up. Trembling fingers snake around the smooth texture of his throat, lacing themselves in the mess of hair at the nape of his neck. You carefully pull Namjoon against you, bravely applying moving pressure against his mouth in consent.
The moment he feels you respond, his inhibitions fly out the window, the years of anticipation and want boiling over with rapture at the feeling of your soft skin against his. He begins to move his anxious mouth in concession with yours, tilting his head slightly in an effort to connect to more of you. Your breath leaves your body swiftly as Namjoon works, the gentle kiss morphing into something deeper, more intimate. His hands are all over you, running up and down your spine, trailing over the rise of your shoulder blades, piecing into the curvature of your neck, and repeating the process.
You push your hands further up his scalp, nails softly raking and tugging, the deep groan of contentment that vibrates through Namjoon’s throat instilling you with a confidence. You become braver with the pushing and pulling of your lips, tugging Namjoon closer to you as your bodies connect flush against each other. You flinch slightly with nerves when you feel the warmth of Namjoon’s tongue trail along your bottom lip, desiring to taste more of you.
Melting into the sensation of the pads of Namjoon’s fingers brushing underneath the hem of your shirt, massaging soft pressure into the exposed skin, you allow him entry, loosing your mind over the longing of the kiss. So many things are running through your head at the moment, but you squelch each thought that threatens to ruin the feeling, knowing that right now, Namjoon is all you want.
His tongue caresses the inside of your mouth, seeking out the entirety of you as you fall further into the lull of his hold. You become limp in his arms as his teeth find purchase on you lower lip, gently tugging as he breathlessly pulls away. Your eyes slowly open as he rests his forehead against yours, his hand cradling the back of you neck with chaste fingers. His eyes are staring hungrily at your swollen lips, his free thumb returning to map out the line of your pout. “So soft,” he whispers, his gaze intent.
“Namjoon–” you begin to say, before he presses a finger to your lips in protest.
“Please don’t say anything,” he requests gently, closing his eyes. “Just…stay with me tonight.”
You can’t do anything but nod, your body completely spent after this whirlwind of emotions. No longer can you remember the reason you came here tonight, the cruelty of the other man completely doused by the overwhelming affection and care of the one before you. Tomorrow there will be plenty of time for talking, but tonight, as you slide under the crisp sheets enveloped in the steady arms of your best friend, you desire nothing more than this.
