Wonho: H-

Wonho: h-

Me:

“it’s just a word” has to be the worst excuse for using slurs ever bc language is extremely powerful. it shapes your worldview. it’s the origin point of nearly every action. so if you think casually using racist language doesn’t manifest in racist ideologies and violence you’re incredibly misguided.

Business Proposal || knj (4/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, panic attacks, mentions of death, and a funeral. Lot’s of crying. 

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 3.5k

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

prev || next || m.list

a/n: in all honesty I couldn’t wait to put out this part. It’s a tough one so read at your own pace.  Also this could’ve gone two ways, I picked this one lolol I’m sorry! LMK your thoughts. Enjoy.xx

Everything happens in seconds.

One moment you’re at each other’s throats spitting hate at each other and the next your back is pressed against the kitchen counter. The marble edge is painfully digging into your lower back. If your head was in the right place and you weren’t so sleep deprived you would’ve pulled away. Instead you’re pulling him closer and fighting to have the upper hand with your mouth against his.

It’s a kiss you’ve never experienced before. It’s not full of the fireworks people always talk about and it doesn’t make the butterflies in your stomach squirm with excitement.

Keep reading

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Love, Lust & Litigation | Masterlist (JJK, KNJ)

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader x Namjoon

Genre: lawyer!AU, coworkers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut

Rating: M (18+)

Word Count: TBD

Summary: Unfortunately, you have developed a massive crush on your new boss. Even more unfortunately, your equally attractive coworker is also harboring massive crush on your boss. AKA Jungkook and reader both pine for big, sexy brain Namjoon. 

Chapter 1 - 4k

Chapter 2 - 3.8k

Chapter 3 - 5.3k

Chapter 4

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like crazy ~ part two

☆ﾟpart two of five

pairing(s): namjoon x reader, seokjin x reader, yoongi x reader, hoseok x reader, jimin x reader, taehyung x reader, jungkook x reader

genre: fluff || smut || angst || non-idol au || reincarnation au || friends to lovers || strangers to lovers || established relationships || regency era au || gang au || college au || slight yandere au? ||

summary: the story of how the universe sent you Namjoon.

word count: 9.3k

tags/ warnings: gang leader! namjoon, fluff, a lot more love, angst, namjoon is tatted up, death/ murder, mentions of blood, mentioned sex trafficking, mentioned drugs, obsessive relationship, smut in the forms of: dom/ sub themes— kinda mean-ish dom! namjoon, lots of hickies, spitting in a mouth :), biting, strangely feral sex, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (this is fiction, don’t be stupid), pull out method (again, don’t be stupid), doggy style, squirting, the briefest ass play, implied/planned aftercare!! because namjoon isn’t heartless

notes: not a promise but i'm going to try and get yoongi's part uploaded next week!! it's basically all written i just have to edit it all but this section of the story was getting way too long so i decided to just split it. again, feedback is always encouraged!! i really like this series and would love to know others' thoughts too <3

‘like crazy’ mini series masterlist || my main masterlist

🪐 🌠 ∘₊✧─── *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ───✧₊∘ ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 💫

Your third life was perhaps the strangest.

It had also been the shortest of all your lives, and perhaps the shortest of your loves. 

You hadn’t loved Namjoon any less than you had Taehyung or Jimin. 

Stupid, undying love had wormed its way into your heart; maybe without you even realizing this time. And then once again, you found yourself sinking with no escape and more heartbreak than you knew what to deal with. 

When you truly think about it, the universe had been a little crueller in this life. 

And in hindsight, she probably had taken pity on your poor soul for all the stories that follow this one.

From the day you could produce a coherent thought, you’d known everything. 

There was no life-changing realisation that you’d had with Jimin, no obliviousness to what your life had once been or everything you’ve ever lost. 

You’re pretty sure your whole world would have been different had you not been aware of your previous life, the butterfly effect is a real bitch when the knowledge you never asked for is thrust into your hands and you aren’t exactly sure what to do with it. 

At eighteen you’d moved out. Because as much as you’d tried, you’d never truly felt anything for your parents in this life.

It wasn’t hard to play the role of a doting daughter, not when your parents never paid much attention to you anyway. Or how you knew attaching yourself to people that would eventually pass was a whole new wave of pain you weren’t ready to put yourself up for. 

There was no guarantee that once you died in this life you’d come back for a fourth time, there was no guarantee that if you did ever make your way back into this world that you’d ever gain the knowledge of what once was. But it was a risk you had never been willing to take. If you’d lived another life, come back again and again, then what was there to say it weren’t to happen once more? 

You often wondered how your old mother must have felt, finding out the only family she had left was murdered. How horrified she must have been after hearing the news. Or if she’d been the one to stumble across yours and Jimin’s cold corpses. 

You doubted she was still alive either way, time hadn’t exactly been on your side, the world so much different than when you were last alive. 

So much more advanced than it had been. You had so many more rights as a women than you had in your previous life. Everything seemed so new, the smallest glimpses of the past peeking through the new age that you found yourself living in. 

The story of you and Namjoon starts where you and Jimin had ended. 

You look up at the set of apartment buildings. The land that used to be the foundation of your home no longer what it used to be. The garden was buried under cement, and all your secrets that had seeped into the walls were probably rotting somewhere in the landfill.

What was once a small house for two had been reconstructed, and built so much bigger and better. Better than anything you could have imagined your home to be. 

It felt a little patronizing, the land you’d died on morphed into something so much more spectacular. 

You remember how hard it had been to simply own a house of your own. How hard it must have been for Jimin to save enough to buy it. How you felt as though you’d finally achieved something in your pitiful life the day the two of you had moved in.

How when you look at the building stood before you, it didn’t seem like such a wonderful place anymore.

It wasn’t special. It wasn’t yours.

Once again, it was so far out of reach, so different, the familiarity, the warmth, all of it had died along with you and Jimin. 

Yours and Jimin’s lives had been so insignificant that no one had thought to keep the land your sacred burial ground. 

You don’t resent the world for stripping away such a large piece of your life away. (even less so when the change had been the sole reason you’d found Namjoon. Or rather how he’d found you).  

Meeting Namjoon had become somewhat of a blur. Words slipping off your tongue as the wind dug its nails into your cheeks, and your fingers and toes felt numb from the cold. Grey cottony clouds had been stuffed in your ears and your mind had been so far from your body. Perhaps seeping into the gravel, slipping between the frost and the soil as your mind reels with every little moment you’d ever spent on this very piece of land. 

Jimin had been the spring, but Namjoon had been the winter. 

You see, Taehyung and Jimin had been the gentle things that wandered in the sunlight, flowers and warm afternoons, sweet kisses and heart-swelling love. Namjoon is what lurks in the shadows, and ugly thunder storms or gnarly bite marks imbedded into tender skin. He was every rough edge and anxiety filled heartbeat, his touch gentle as poison seeps into every pore he traces over. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Your head snaps in the direction of Jimin’s voice. Words catching in your throat, your mouth opening and then closing and then falling open once more.

Your eyes widen only for prickly disappointment to drown your heart when you’re met with the face of a stranger.  Jimin's saccharine voice echoing through one ear and out the other.

You lips fall shut, heat creeping up your neck to your cheeks as your eyes meet those of the stranger. 

“I used to live here” you point to the block of flats. And although that may not exactly be true, you don’t bother elaborating. 

(And Namjoon doesn’t bother to tell you that no one had lived in that building since it had been built. It was his land before it had been constructed and he had no plans of ever renting out any of the rooms.) 

He takes a step closer to you, maybe only an arms length away, “It’s not safe in this area” 

You turn back to look at the building, “That’s a shame” you hum, “Maybe I should get going then” 

A weird sense of guilt runs through your veins. Guilt because you weren’t at all scared. And maybe it’s because after being killed twice, the idea of death doesn’t scare you all that much anymore. Not when you were tired of life, not when you could come back and have the chance to live all over again as a whole new person. 

“I never caught your name” he says, mild curiosty dancing in his eyes.

The air is frigid as it fills your lungs, “Y/n” 

“Namjoon” he holds a hand out for you to shake.

You look at his hand, debating whether to risk it, wondering if he had plans to grab you, erase you from existence. You’d tell him it were useless if that were the case, that you’re estranged from your family and you barely had any friends that would risk themselves for your own safety. That he’d be wasting his time more than he would be yours. 

His lips curl up at the corners as you shake his hand, “Want me to walk you home?” 

You meet his gaze, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck, “No. I’m quite capable” 

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“I think there’s someone staring at you” your friend nudges you, hand cupping your ear. 

As much as you wanted to live a life of solitude, unprepared to face another life that ended in heartbreak, it was hard not to befriend someone along the way. 

The both of you would have probably quit this deadbeat job if it weren’t for each other. And luckily the place was run by an old woman that didn’t mind your shifts being practically identical. The income helped with rent and you got most meals free with the job, so really you had no plans to move anywhere else. 

Somehow, platonic love was a little easier to let go of, a little easier to mend, soothe until it doesn’t hurt as much and the memories fade like a painting left in sunlight for too long. You’d never wanted to come off as cold either, and what was one friend when you had a whole life ahead of you? 

Because as much as you liked to slip into your own world, replay the stories of Taehyung and Jimin until tears slip down your cheeks and you had half a mind to pull your aching heart out of youe chest, the strange sort of catharsis that hurts as much as it heals— having a friend wasn’t all that bad. 

And maybe you’d be upset if one day the two of you were to wander down separate paths, only to never meet at the crossroad and continue on with life like you hadn’t trekked for miles together; but maybe that hurt was worth the risk if it were easy to heal later on. A selfish thought, but you’d learnt that humans were simply built that way. That being selfish wasn’t all that terrible.

You look up at her, dropping the mug and cloth behind you in favor of leaning on the counter, arm to arm. 

“Who?” your head falls on her shoulder. 

“The guy over there” she nods her head in his direction. You follow her line of sight, eyes meeting the strangers’ very briefly before your gaze flitters out the storefront window. 

“Do you know him?” she asks, your head falling off her shoulder as someone stalks up to the counter. 

You squint as she takes the order, watching as the curious stranger flicks open a newpaper. 

You weren’t sure if he was simply confident or overly arrogant. His posture that of a man who gets his way, the kind of man you try to avoid when the sun sets. The kind of man you try to avoid when you go out for drinks and they offer you a night you’d never forget. 

His shoulders were lax, open. One leg crossed over the other. Chest broad and arms bulging under his thin dress shirt. He was handsome. Very handsome. And you knew he was aware of this fact, especially with the way all eyes were on him as people left the cafe. Their unrelenting stares doing nothing to deter his relaxed demeanour. 

“I don’t think so, no” you shake your head, turning back to grab a to-go cup, “Maybe he’s one of those creeps that have a thing for baristas” 

She frowns, hip knocking against yours with more force than intended, almost sending the cup you were holding flying. “Don’t say that, what if he’s a rich CEO and wants to take you on a date?” 

You can’t help the laugh that spills from your lips, “Doubt it. I don’t think rich CEOs drink cheap coffee on this side of town” 

She hums, “His suit does looks pretty expensive” 

“It does” you agree, meeting her eyes. 

“French make?” 

You tilt your head, taking another glance in his direction, “Italian” 

“Freshly pressed?” 

“Definitely” 

You slide the hot coffee across the counter, bitter annoyance creasing your eyebrows when you don’t even get a thank you. 

“I mean, there’s more ways to get money than just being a rich CEO” she tilts her head, eyes squinting ever so slightly.

“Maybe he’s a doctor” you run a finger over your bottom lip, and she throws her head back in laughter. 

“Maybe he does shady gang related stuff” 

Your nose scrunches up at that, “Like sex trafficking? What if he sells drugs?” 

She bites her lip. 

“You fiend” you laugh, “There’s bad boy, and then there’s just straight up criminal” 

She gives you an exasperated sigh, “What if he’s a nice? What if he wants true love, and cares about his family?” 

Your mouth falls open in disbelief, “I don’t–” you swallow, “You have strange preferences” is what you settle with. 

“Okay?” she laughs, “And what about you?” 

“A gentleman. The sappy ones that believe in true love” 

“Doesn’t seem to be many of those around anymore, not in this area at least” she nods, “Maybe we both have unattainable types” 

Your lips quirk up into a smile, “Maybe. I’m not really looking for love” 

“Why not? Add something fun to your life” 

Both of your attention is snatched by the door swinging shut, the stranger that had been keeping as eye on you slinking down the street, newspaper tucked underneath his arm. 

“I’m happy where I am” 

“You don’t go out” she deadpans. 

Your eyes narrow, “I do. For work, groceries, you know all that kinda stuff” 

It’s barely a laugh that puffs out of her, more an exasperated sigh, “How are you ever going to meet the love of your life?” 

Something bitter coats over your tongue, and you will yourself not to frown. You think your heart slowly starts to sink inside your chest, an ugly weight that has your eyes stinging a little. 

“I don’t think everyone has soulmates” you turn away from her, picking up the mug you’d put down earlier. 

“You’re so cynical sometimes, you know that? Besides, it’s not like you have to find a soulmate per say, just— a fling or something” 

“Yeah” you look at her over your shoulder, “Wanna go change? I’ll lock up today” 

She hums, “Are you sure? I don’t mind helping” 

You shake your head, pushing yourself onto your toes to place a mug back on the shelf, ‘I’ll be fine, you have somewhere you gotta be right?” 

“Yeah. My dad’s in the hospital again, I don’t know how I’m gonna pay the bill this time” 

You tuck your hair behind your ear, “Sorry to hear that” and truly you were. But as much as you wanted to offer to help her pay off the bills, you had your own utilities to pay for, a life to live.

And maybe you were a prime example of a selfish human.

She shrugs, “Life is shitty sometimes, not much I can do about it” 

She waves before she leaves, the door clicking shut behind her. You watch as she walks, only blinking when she’s out of sight. 

You stand there for a moment, time inside the cafe stopping as the world continues to move outside.

You can barely hear the chatter, muffled through the glass, though you see people’s smiles, watching groups of them laugh. Or two people holding hands. You see lovestruck looks in people’s eyes. Eyes that don’t seem to hold much emotion at all. Distress from someone on the phone. The smallest hint of happiness from someone listening to music. 

You fall back into reality when one of the boilers in the backroom rumbles, your attention quickly snatched as you duck under the counter to wash the tables. Your world now quiet enough for your thoughts to amplify. They fill up the room like thick smog, skipping around you with quick steps you almost stumble over your own feet. 

Some days you found yourself wondering what Taehyung would think of you now, how the both of you might have danced around the cafe, a piano piece playing in the background from a jukebox as you closed up for the night. Or what would happen when you’d finally go home to your one bedroom apartment and Jimin would be sprawled across the sheets, hair damp, and skin still damp, wet from just taking a shower. 

You startle when someone approaches you just as you lock up the door, “Willing to take my offer to walk you home this time?” 

With widened eyes you turn to meet the stranger, acute terror tickling your mind as you think he must have been hanging around the shop since he left earlier, just waiting for you to lock up, “Excuse me?” Your voice breathless. 

“It’s pretty late, and girls like you don’t fare well when the sun goes down” 

You slip the key to the cafe into your pocket, “I think I’ll pass” your shoulder barely brushes his as you slip past him, though you don’t miss the thump of footsteps behind you. Too close, yet not close enough for you to do anything about it. 

You stop, “What do you want?” 

“Come on, Y/n, We’re past that, I’m just making sure you get home safe” you watch as a dimpled smile tugs onto his face and you pull your coat tighter around your body, unsure if the shiver was from the cold or from him.  

Your eyes narrow, skeptical, “How’d you know my name?” 

Something akin to a scoff vibrates from his chest, “You’re fucking serious? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already?” 

You bite your bottom lip, eyes glazing over his face, memories playing like a strip of film in your mind, click click clicking until you pause when you catch sight of his face, a little blurred but his eyes are hard to forget. “Ah–” you sigh, “Namjoon” 

You will yourself no to smack the shit-eating grin off his face, rather turning back around, starting your walk home. 

“So i’m not that forgettable?” his steps fall in time with yours. No longer walking behind you, all caution thrown out of the window. 

“It took me all day to remember. Why were you just hanging out at the cafe? Don’t you have better things to do?” 

“No” he shakes his head. 

You don’t open your mouth the rest of the way home, and neither does Namjoon. Not until you’re stood on the step of your apartment building, slightly looking down at him. 

“Thanks for walking me home” you rock back and forth on your heels, “You don’t need to do it again though” 

Namjoon wets his bottom lip, pulling his scarf a little tighter around his neck. Condensed air whispering into nothing as he open his mouth to speak. 

“I want to see you again” Plain. Simple. Straight to the point. But not what you wanted to hear. 

You sigh, back of your throat drying as you inhale frost riddled air, “That’s a bit too forward, don’t you think?” 

He runs a hand over his chin, “I wouldn’t say so” 

“Whatever it is you want, Namjoon, I don’t want it” you tell him, hoping that by some miracle, your little hint penetrates his thick skull. 

“And how do you know what I want?” His arms fold across his chest. 

It doesn’t apparently, and you are so close to losing your tether. 

“Dating. Marriage. Sex. Simply a fling. I don’t want any of it” 

It irks you how he laughs, “Marriage is a bit too soon, I barely know you. But I’m not opposed to the rest” 

“But I am” 

“We’ll see about that” he waves you off, “i’ll see you around, yeah?” 

You choose not to reply, willing yourself not to look back as you push open the door to your building. 

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Do you fuck on the first date?” 

And for a moment you think your mind short circuits, neurones working overtime to piece together a coherent thought. Sparking against one another as his question replays in your mind. 

Everything with Namjoon was always so quick. What had been him walking you home had somehow melted into him taking you out to dinner on the nice side of town for a date that truly you hadn’t had any interest in. That was until he’d shown up at your door out of the blue barely a week after the two of you had met. 

You’d never told him your apartment number, and it had left you mildly curious as to who you’d gotten yourself involved in. You could only hope that if you came off dull enough he’d choose to go and flirt with another human that was willing to spread their legs for him on the first date. 

“I haven’t before. So, no” 

Namjoon hums, hand running over his jaw in thought. 

“How charming” he muses, and you’re unsure if it’s a laugh that rumbles from his chest or a scoff, perhaps a mixture of both. “They must have been true gentlemen. Let me know what I’m working with” 

You raise an eyebrow, and he nods for you to continue. 

“The first guy.. I suppose we never exactly had a first date. The second…we ate by a lake and talked about dreams and the universe, and then he made me a flower crown so I made one for him” 

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow, “Men like that exist?” 

The corners of your lips quirk up, wistful memories of still-there emotions seeping back into your heart. “No. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here” 

“They’re dead?” 

You swallow, breath catching in the back of your throat. Namjoon’s head tilts, expectant. 

“Something like that” is all you can find yourself to manage. 

“You kill them yourself?” his eyebrow raises, though you think the both of you know the answer. And maybe that had been the moment you’d gotten an inkling of what Namjoon did for a living, and how utterly fascinating it was to talk about death so freely with another human being. 

It had always been so taboo. But it was simply the end of life, the end of a story. Everyone were to experience it one day, so why would no one ever talk about it? 

“No” you shake your head, “And this isn’t about them” 

“It’s not” he agrees, “I’ll leave the sex for next time as well” 

You cover a laugh with a cough, “How thoughtful of you” 

“You don’t seem upset” he points out, piercing eyes making it a point to hold eye contact. 

“About you wondering what happened to my dead lovers?” And he nods, “You’re understandably curious. I’m not going to hold that against you” you shrug. 

Your finger runs over the seam line of your dress, some small part of you on edge, always wondering what Namjoon’s next words would be. He was always so calculated. And a small part of you was scared he’d ask things you had no intention of mentioning. 

“And you’re not curious about my past relationships?” he asks, somewhat surprising you. 

You shake your head, “I think I’ve made it clear that I’m not interested in a relationship. So I really couldn’t care what your past endeavours were like” 

You sit up a little straighter when his lips quirk up into a smile, “I wonder why you’re here then. If you truly wanted nothing to do with me” 

Your tongue wets your bottom lip, “You’re awfully similar to a parasite, you know?” 

He raises an eyebrow, “Elaborate” 

“Do you believe in destiny?” 

“That doesn’t answer me” he shakes his head, “What does destiny have to do with parasites?” 

“You’re like a parasite because no matter where I go, you cling on to me like it’s all you know” you say, “For the last week since we’d met that one evening all you do is sit in the cafe all day while I work, walk me home and show up at my door on my days off even though I told you I’m not interested” 

“And destiny?”

“I said yes to today, because destiny is a bitch. And maybe it had been her that had sent us to one another” 

Namjoon leans back in his chair, “I do believe. To answer your earlier question” 

You sigh, “That doesn’t mean I want to dive head first into a relationship with you” 

“But you’re not opposed to the idea of us getting to know one another?” 

You bite your lip, maybe trying to hide a smile, “I didn’t say that” 

“It was implied though” Namjoon’s own lips curl upwards. 

“Was it?” 

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow, “Don’t start acting like a brat now” 

“Or what?” 

He leans over the table, lithe fingers taking a hold of your jaw before he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, “Are you willing to play that game, love?” 

“Maybe one day, but I have a shift soon so I better get going. Thanks for dinner, I’ll make sure to add a complimentary cake with your coffee tomorrow” 

Namjoon’s fingers fall loose around your jaw, “You want me to visit tomorrow?” 

You push yourself to stand, chair squeaking against the tiled flooring, “Something like that” 

“When does your shift start?” 

“I open up tomorrow” 

He nods, “And you’re closing up tonight?” 

“Mmhmm” you hum. 

“I’ll come pick you up after I get some work done” he calls out to you, and you simply wave over your shoulder as you weave through tables towards the exit. 

Everything about life with Namjoon was fast paced. So quick you often found yourself stumbling after him as the both of you wander in the dark, no clear destination in mind. But as you stray away from him, he always seems to find where you are. 

Arguable coincidences turning a little more purposeful. You never thought much of it when you’d run into him while shopping, or out drinking with your friend. Never thinking it was weird how no matter where you seemed to be, Namjoon would be there too. Always there to find you, always there to bring you home. 

He loomed behind you like a shadow, an obedient guard dog that lurked in your shadows. 

When you truly think back to your time with Namjoon, every moment together was clouded by rose tinted glasses that you seemed to have refused to take off. 

It wasn’t long after that first encounter with one another that you started dating. And merely weeks after that, somehow Namjoon had convinced you to move in with him. He always told you how he didn’t like the side of town you lived on, how worried he got dropping you off at your door. 

Because he knew what happened when people slept, and the world was a little quieter. When the light of the moon didn’t spill into the dark corners of alleyways and brutish men think they run the streets that belong to him. 

“I have a lot of people’s blood on my hands, you understand that right?” he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear. 

You blink up at him from where you’re sat on his bed, “Yes” you nod. 

“That if you accept me like this– wholly me– there is no going back for either of us?” 

Your tongue wets your bottom lip. “I understand” 

The corner of his lip curls upwards, “Good. Because I had no plan of letting you go” 

And maybe that’s when you should have turned your back on him. That through the misted veil of sickly belief that fate had played a game with you again, you’d stayed– evidently leading to another tragedy. 

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Namjoon was the epitome of obsession, it coursed through his veins just as much as blood did. 

He was comparable to a magpie, though his form of treasure was delicate little beings like you that he liked to lock up. And watch as you dance for him behind the bars of a cage, eyes piercing into your very soul until it melts and he mends you back together again. 

“What’s wrong, my darling?” Namjoon frowns, slouching back into his chair. 

You lay the book over your chest, heart-wrenching deja vu tickling your insides. “It’s just work. The old lady that owns the place is lowering our pay” 

Namjoon hums, “Why don’t you quit?” he takes off his glasses, hand running over his face. 

“Quit?” you sit up, eyebrows furrowing, “I probably have enough saved for a couple of weeks but after that I’m done for. It’s not like I’m paying rent anymore” 

Namjoon pushes himself to stand, slinking around his desk to stand before you, “That’s why I’m here. You don’t have to work anymore, I’ve got the both of us” 

You shake your head, “Namjoon I can’t do that” you tell him, leaning into his touch as his thumb caresses your jaw. 

“And why not?” He crouches down, head tilting in a way that is so very much Namjoon. 

“It’s unfair on you. Plus, I’m capable of taking care of myself” 

He runs his thumb over his bottom lip, “I know you are, but why have all the added stress when I’m more than happy to do this for us”

Some days Namjoon seemed awfully normal. Integrated perfectly into society, just like the rest of human kind. And some days you found it scary how ordinary he seemed when you knew of the things he did. He always seemed so in control of his own mind, thoughts easily articulated into convincing words, dressed proper, a kind smile. 

It was unnerving how someone so perfect was so very much the evil that you fear as a child. The grim reaper who melts into the darkess, takes a life and thinks no more of that pitiful being’s existence as he stalks through the night ready to chew on another soul. 

Maybe it was blissful ignorance that had chained you to him. If he were the being that men feared then it was only smart to latch onto him, to pretend he didn’t do all these bad things and let him squeeze his way into your heart. For you to be docile and quiet and everything he wanted from you. Even if his love hurt, thick shards of glass piercing their way into your heart and your mind and your body and your soul. 

It was suffocating. Emotions too hard to decipher when he treated you as if you were the only thing that mattered in this cruel world. His love having a tiny semblance of your previous lovers. Foolish in the way you clung on to the smallest parts of them that you could, even though you knew it was never going to be the same. Namjoon was so far from being Taehyung. He was never going to be Jimin. His love a new type of raw, skinned alive and thrusted into your hands without much thought. 

Namjoon’s finger’s slip between your own, grass prickling the bare skin of your arms as you shift,  “Sirius” 

“Pardon?” you tilt your head to look at him, the softest smile on his face as he looks up at the sky. 

“You’re my Sirius” he closes his eyes, smile still lingering. 

“I don’t–” you start, mouth falling shut when he turns to look at you, eyes an endless abyss that you find yourself falling into. Every bad thing he’s ever done, suddenly no longer that evil when he looks at you like this. 

“If Sirius is the brightest star in the sky. Then you must be my Sirius” 

You blink, utterly baffled as to where this had come from. 

“Are you ill?” you dare ask, breath catching in the back of your throat. Warm, gentle, love heating your cheeks the lightest pink, though you doubt Namjoon would be able to see it in the light of the moon. 

A laugh bubbles from his chest, “No” he shakes his head, “Love turns us into fools sometimes” 

You push yourself up onto your elbows, fingers slipping from between his own. 

“That wasn’t foolish” you tell him, “Surprisingly profound. And incredibly sweet” 

“Is that the way to your heart? Sweet words and a pretty face?” he teases, sitting up. And you fall onto your back. 

“It seems so” you say, “Though you’ve already found a home in mine” 

“Is that so?” his hands run over your thighs, fingers teasing the hem of your shorts. 

“Mmhmm” you hum, eyes flickering back towards the sky. 

“Then it is lucky you’ve also found a home in mine” He leans down, arms caging your head as he presses a plush kiss to your cheeks, following the slope up to the tip of your nose before he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Not here” you murmur just as he pulls away, curious hands wandering over whatever bare skin he can grab onto. 

“But how is the world to know you belong to me?” he asks, warm breath fanning over your lips. 

You swallow, “I’m sure they’re all aware by now. More than a few men have lost their lives because of me” 

Namjoon pushes himself to sit up, frown morphing on his face, “I told you their blood is not on your hands, but mine” 

And he had told you that. Many times. Between kisses of reassurance, where his hands wander down for back as you cling to his suit jacket, guilt chewing away at your mind until you couldn’t take it anymore and begged him to stop his merciless ways when it came to you. Because in truth, no matter how many times he’d told you, their deaths are your fault. And will latch onto your weary soul. 

And maybe one day when death knocks at your door, he will open his book and list out every man that had ever died because of you, and then he will tell you the devil is waiting downstairs with the door open and a spare room just for you. 

Never once had you asked him to slip out of the bedroom as you slept, slaughtering every man that dared lock eyes with you for longer than Namjoon deemed necessary. Or utter your name from mouths made of filth, or gawk at the small sliver of skin you would show at dinner. Skin that was wholly his to touch and defile and bite at until he’d become the artist, painting you red only for flowers of purple to bloom across unblemished skin. 

“That doesn’t change the fact their premature demise wasn’t linked to me” 

“None of that” he hums, helping you sit up, fingers raking through your hair. “Angels don’t have human blood on their hands, it is above them”

The day you’d kneeled before him, begged for him to stop killing on your behalf, that he didn’t need to do more than he already was, that those men didn’t mean anything at all to you– he’d never mentioned another instance where he erased the existence of another human. 

That didn’t mean you were naive enough to believe he’d stopped killing. You weren’t stupid. It wasn’t hard to piece together the little things that happened when you’d wake up during the nights, sheets cold beside you and Namjoon nowhere to be seen until the sun had risen. 

Familiar faces printed on the front pages of newspapers, gruely deaths typed out without a lick of sympathy, just another face, just another story. 

And maybe it had been all your fault, bringing up such trivial things like destiny. Uttered how you thought fate had brought the two of you together, solidifying whatever little budding obsession Namjoon had for you. And it was ironic, how even after the tragedy of this life, the little flicker of hatred you held for fate herself was blown out, because as fucked up as it was; you had no regrets when it came to Namjoon. 

He’d built you up into an entirely new person. So different than you had been. Shown you a life that was so different from what you’d had before. So fresh. And new. And exciting. 

Impossible to hate. 

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

A choked moan catches in the back of your throat when Namjoon’s teeth clamp around your nipple, his chin spit-soaked as he lathers his tongue over your flushed skin. 

“Fuc– Namjoon” you huff, hips rutting upwards, desperate to chase after every lick of searing pleasure as your clit rubs against the soft fabric of your panties. 

Your pelvis knocks against his stomach, head tipping backwards as he kisses over your tender skin, tongue soothing over every divot that his teeth had left over your body. 

His hand slips down between your bodies, awfully mean as he hooks his fingers in the waist of your panties, tugging them upwards until the crotch is tucked snug between your folds, soaked fabric rubbing deliciously against your throbbing clit. 

“Yeah?” he laughs when you moan out his name, tears gathering along your waterline as you rut upwards. A feral sort of pleasure consuming your entire being, emotions rubbed red-raw, heart thrusted for Namjoon to chew on, to consume like it were his only life force. 

You whine when he lets go of your underwear, pleasure fizzling out, orgasm ebbing away. Your poor clit sending barely-there pleasure up your spine— utter frustration wracking throughout your body. 

You tug his face parallel to your own, fingers digging into his jaw, “No, no– Namjoon please” you whisper against his lips, fingers slipping to tangle into the hair on the back of his head. 

“What do you want?” he asks, fingers dancing across your thigh. 

Your mouth drops open in another shaky moan as his fingers dig into a hickey on your thigh, perfectly crafted; almost a hollowed heart shape. Proof of the rawest lust that’s mixed between your sweat slicked bodies, and his salvia that drips into your open mouth, tongue already out to catch his spit. You swallow, prickly heat dusting your cheeks as he smiles down at you, so proud as your tongue laps up the remanence of his saliva from your bottom lip. 

“You– want you so bad” your hands wander, anywhere they can grab on to him. 

Nails that dig into covered biceps— muscles flexing, over his pecks, sinking into the plush skin; perhaps some small part of yourself hoping that you could carve a chunk out of him to keep for your self, a part of Namjoon that will always be with you for when he’s gone. 

A strange desperate sort of need that has bloomed into your body and mind. Slithering through each valve of your heart, sinking its claws into the muscle, just Namjoon

Namjoon 

Namjoon. 

He’d consumed your life, your every thought. Your skin alight as he touches you, your mind constantly buzzing with thought of him him him when he’s gone and just more more more of him when he’s with you. 

“Yeah?” he kisses your jaw, teeth nipping over the skin, sucking hard enough that you know you’ll be littered in marks of his lust for days to come. 

“Yeah” you nod, thighs clamping shut as you try and relieve some of the ache, beyond desperate for some form of release. The sort of release that you know only he would ever be able to give you, the feral sort of release that you never knew were possible if not for him. 

“My poor baby” he croons, sitting back on his heels. Goosebumps prickle the skin of your arms, the heat of Namjoon’s body leaving you cold when he pulls away. 

Your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth as he shucks his shirt off, you eye the ink that slithers up his chest, spreading across his arms. Deep black that stains his skin, bare hints of color peaking through. 

“It’s rude to stare” he reminds you, unbuttoning his pants, underwear soon following the rest of his clothes on the floor. 

“You’re just very pretty” you say, sitting up, chest heaving as you gasp for breath. Namjoon leans down, lips pressing against yours in a kiss that holds so many unsaid words, both from you and from him. 

“Not as pretty as you” he whispers, one hand taking a hold of his cock. He lathers pearly beads of precum down his length, his other hand slipping between your legs, thumb running over the length of your still-covered slit. 

“Take these off for me?” he asks, catching your attention that had been on his thick cock, “How precious” he whispers as you fall onto your back again, bare and wholly his to take. 

Your hair fanned out beneath you, teeth marks littering your skin and hickies that he doubts you’ll be able to fully cover; the whole world knowing that you’ve been claimed by him. 

You wriggle under his sharp gaze, eyes raking down the length of your body as though it were the first time. (He had every little dip of your body ingrained into his mind, though nothing would ever been the tangibility of you spread bare like before him) 

You thighs fall open, silent temptation— a silent invitation for him to fuck you senseless. 

“Turn around for me, darling. On your hands and knees, I plan to absolutely ruin you tonight” he runs a hand down the length of your thigh. 

You roll over, lifting your hips for him, cheek pressed against the duvet. Your outstretched hands grasp onto the pillows, though you doubt they’ll be much help if Namjoon does exactly what he had promised. 

You wiggle your hips, breath hitching in the back of your throat when a warm hand ghosts over your asscheeks. 

“Precious” he kisses the back of your thigh, sharp inhale from him causing your cheeks to flush the darkest shade of red. 

This thumb parts your folds, barely dipping into your hole before he’s trailing wet fingers upwards; free hand pulling your cheeks apart. 

He teases over your puckered asshole, nail raking over the delicate skin. “You’re a slut sometimes you know that?” he laughs, choosing to dip his index finger, nail deep into your ass. 

Your breath hitches, something similar to a moan spilling out and onto the sheets as you rock backwards. 

“Not a slut” you tell him, slick dribbling over your clit. 

“No?” he croons, pushing his finger further into you, empty cunt clenching around nothing as he teases a second finger around your ass hole. 

“No” you breath, fingers digging into his pillow. 

“Not a slut, but you like you like me toying around with your ass?” he laughs, finger slipping out as he finishes. 

A watery moan follows, asshole clenching around nothing as he toys with your pussy. Pulling your folds apart, and you hear it before you feel it, wet slap reverberating off the walls, sting following soon after. 

Your mouth falls open, fresh wave of arousal slipping from the entrance, dripping onto the sheets. 

“More” you beg, thighs quivering as you try to hold yourself up, “Please, more” you try to get a look at Namjoon from over your shoulder. 

You hear a mocking laugh rumble from his chest, squeak of surprise punched from your throat as he lands another harsh slap over your cunt, string of slick snapping as he pulls his hand back towards his body. 

His next slap lands on your clit, pain morphing into a strange sort of pleasure as you feel it wrack up your body, mind muddling into a mushy mess that has you rocking your hips backwards; desperate for at least one more measured slap to your flushed pussy.

Namjoon groans, wetting his bottom lip as he gets a glimpse of your puffy folds, so wet and messy he’s awfully tempted to lean down and lick you clean until you’re pleading for him to let you cum, only for him to push you over the edge so many time that you have to beg him to stop, and maybe if you start crying, delicate little tears cascading down your pink cheeks, then he’d take a little mercy on you. 

Another wave of arousal dribbles onto Namjoon’s cockhead as he runs it through your folds, blunt head pressing against your hole, walls stretching to accommodate his girth. 

“Oh” you whine, back arching a little deeper as he feeds an inch into you. 

His hands fall onto your hips, fingers sinking into the meat of your hips, ragged crescents far from majestic digging into your skin “Feels good” his hips stutter, your body jolting forwards. 

“Fuck– Namjoon” you cry when he loses all resolve, pelvis smacking against your ass, impatient to have your walls fully wrapped around his cock, the closest he’ll ever be to sinking under your skin and becoming one with you. The closest the two of you would ever physically be. 

“Fuck” he groans as your walls clench around him, your hand slipping between your chest and the bed, down to your stomach. 

It felt as though Namjoon had weaved his way into your body, so far inside of you, you wonder if he’d sunk into your stomach. His cock touches places you never knew felt this good, pleasure buzzing up your body with every unintentional sway of your hips. 

He barely pulls out, cockhead dragging deliciously through your walls before he eases himself back into you fully. 

“Faster, please, Namjoon” you swallow, throat awfully dry– and Namjoon hums.A hand leaves your hip, tangling into the hair on the back of your head. 

His cock drags through your walls, tip still wedged inside of you. You’re unsure if it’s a moan or a garbled scream that leaves your lips when he tugs you back by your hair; back arching uncomfortably as his hips snap into you. 

Arousal seeps onto the sheets past his cock and down his ball that barely brush past your swollen clit. 

“Ah–” you cry, fingers gripping onto the pillow as he punches back into you. 

“Like that? Yeah?” he grunts, the hand that was on your hip slipping underneath you, keeping you propped up as his finger leave your hair to press down on your shoulder. 

Tears dance across your waterline, raw pleasure consuming your entire being until all you feel is Namjoon’s thick cock dragging rapidly against your cunt, mind so wholly consumed by him you’d forgotten where you were. Who you were. What you were. 

His hands burn where they hold you, your ass red from each wet slap of his pelvis against your ass and the backs of your thighs. 

Your moans somewhat harmonise, pleasure coursing through both your bodies, rush of dopamine clouding any sort of sanity you thought you had left.

“Play with you clit for me” he groans, tugging you back onto his cock, position causing his cockhead to hit your g-spot perfectly from this angle. 

Your hand shakes as you bring it to your clit, swollen and pink, the barest touch enough to sent you lurching forwards; though you don’t get very far, Namjoon pulling you back with the grip he still has on your waist. Making sure he’s buried deep inside of you, making sure to hit that little sweet spot that has white dancing behind your eyes. 

“Oh” you cry, staccato of noises spilling from your lips as you toy with your clit, messy as your nails drag over the bundle of nerves. 

Namjoon feels you clench around him, ready to tip over the edge with him. 

“That’s a good girl” 

You hiccup a sob, “Gonne cum. Joonie I–” 

“I know, darling” he huffs out a laugh, “Cum for me, all pretty” 

Your thighs quiver, and you’re sure you would have collapsed by now if it weren’t for your boyfriend holding you up. 

You peel the pressure build in your stomach, fingers messy as you try to keep the stimulation up on your clit. Climbing higher and higher towards your peak. 

“Oh– Fuck” your free hand clamps over your mouth, eyes squeezing shut as you tip over the edge, squirting onto the sheets, soaking the fabric, little squeezes of watery cum tumbling past your fingers as you ride out your high— hips stuttering forward with each soft drag of your palm over your clit. 

The insides of your thighs shine, wet with your release, Namjoon’s balls seemingly just as wet when they smack against your clit. 

“Shit” his head tips backwards, and you cry as he slips out of you, sudden emptiness causing your cunt to clench, another spurt of cum dripping onto the sheets below you. 

Namjoon’s hand is rapid around his cock, pulling your ass cheeks apart he groans one last time before he shoots his seed over your red ass. 

It drips over your hole, dribbling down to your messy pussy; mixing with the mix of your cum and arousal. 

He smears his cum across your puckered hole, rubbing it across your folds and down to your clit. A low groan rumbles from Namjoon’s chest at the sight, your labia creamy white and shiny. 

“No” your thighs give out under you, his finger still smearing his cum over your sodden clit, throwing you into a less intense orgasm that has you trembling, sob catching in the back of your throat. 

“You’re so good, my darling” he whispers, wet fingers sliding over the expanse of your back, rubbing his release into your sweat slicked skin, “How about a bath?” he smiles when he catches sight of your closed eyes, “Hmm?” 

You nod, “Drink too” you whisper, voice hoarse and Namjoon traces over each hickey, feeling the dips in your skin that his teeth had left and over the swell of your ass. 

“And a drink too” he nods, “can I go to the kitchen to get a drink? Or would you want to come with me?” he asks. 

Your tongue slips past your lips, wetting your bottom lip as your muscles relax, “Come with you” 

“Yeah?” he laughs, “I’m gonna pick you up, okay?” 

You hum, rolling yourself onto your back. Your eyebrows furrow when your ass is met with wet sheets. “Clean sheets too” 

“Of course” he brushes the wet hair from your forehead. 

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The day Namjoon had acted on impulse, your story had reached its climax– and it had been downhill after that. That is how most stories go after-all. 

And for the first time your ignorance to what Namjoon did behind your back had come to bite you in the ass. A sick little reminder that you should have listened to yourself all those months ago. That you should have never gotten involved with Namjoon. Should have just lived this life through with no hiccups and hopefully finally lay to rest at the end of your cycle. 

And somehow you found yourself here. 

It should have been nothing more than a night out together, nothing more than drinks and hands that wandered in intimate places under the table, no one any the wiser. Clothes imbedded with cigarette smoke and cheap liquor, Namjoon’s lips on your neck and yours on his cheek before he wandered to the bar for refills. 

All it had taken was one man to bring you both to downfall. One lingering, sweaty hand, five chubby fingers and two beady eyes that had no respect; one unruly man for your life to once again fall to shit. 

You’d never seen Namjoon anything but level-headed. He always had such control over his own life, knew how to control a room, his people, part of the city. He was always on top. It’s always been Namjoon’s world and you were simply living in it. 

A small whisper in the back of your mind had told you that surely— surely a man with that much power would one day snap. Perhaps not at you, but you’d placed yourself in his line of fire. Dominoes stacked up one after the other and no matter how fast you ran, they would always catch up to you, knocking you over with them. 

And you knew. You knew that a story with you and Namjoon was sure to be another tragedy. And maybe you wanted to believe that he was invincible, that death wouldn’t rattle at behind him like it had the last two of your lovers, and you suppose he didn’t. 

Death was after you. 

Death was scared of Namjoon, but not you. 

“I told you” you whisper, eyes flitting back to your lover when you catch the attention of an officer, “I fucking told you not to do it, that we could sort something out later but you just had to–” 

He had to kill him. Well, he didn’t have to. But he did. 

“I’ll sort it out” he takes your hands, “Don’t stress too much” 

You exhale, chest deflating, utterly defeated, “And how do you plan to fix this?” 

“I’ve got a good lawyer” he tells you, leaning into the table a little more. 

And you want to tell him his lawyer was shit, that there was no way for him to plead innocent when so many people had seen him slaughter someone out of pure rage, no matter if it were in the back of a club, in a drunk daze, you doubt many would forget the shrill cry of a man slowly losing his life. You doubt many would defend a man that was known for chewing up the lives of any man or woman that he deemed unworthy. 

“You trust me? Don’t you?” He interlaces your fingers, squeezing. 

You nod, swallowing hard as an officer slinks past your table. Unnerving as you eye the weapons strapped to their belts and the haunting jangle of keys. 

“Yes. Yes I do” 

“Good.” he nods, “I need you to do a few things for me while I’m held up” 

“Okay” you whisper, foot tapping anxiously against the floor. Palms flushing in a cold sweat.

“Pack your bags, there’s money under the bed, go away for a while” 

Your eyebrows furrow, “What?” 

“I need you to leave the city for a while until I’m out of here” 

“Namjoon I don’t–” 

He tucks your hair behind your ear, smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Ever so gentle, a lame attempt at reassurance. Though you only find your heart rate picking up, hands trembling ever so slightly. And you wonder if he can feel it; your fear. You wonder if he can taste it on the tip of his tongue. 

“A lot of people are going to be after you now that I’m not around” 

You shake your head, mouth opening to say something though you’re unsure what. 

“I have a lot of enemies” he says carefully, slowly, “And they all know about the delicate little flower I hold, and they’ll want to pluck her and tear her petals off one by one” 

You swallow, “Namjoon” tears threaten to fall to which he brushes a thumb over your cheeks. 

Shaking his head, “None of that” he smiles, “Soon we’ll be together again, and everything will go back to normal, and we’ll be happy” 

You flinch as a bell rings, hands trembling when chairs scrape against the laminated flooring. You swallow down the lump in your throat, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you simply stare at Namjoon. Curious to see how long it would take for you to get lost in his eyes, to be able to wander his mind and simply live there., Safe, happy. 

He told you that you’d be happy. ,

“Go” he nods behind him, “I’ll see you soon, yeah? I think I can have one more visit before trial” 

The both of you stand, Namjoon pulling you into his chest. He kisses your forehead, displeased scoff tumbling off his lips when one of the officers towers over you. Eyebrow raised and expectant. 

He lets go, and you clench your jaw. Your chest expands, lungs stinging with the rush of oxygen— and you will yourself to look up at Namjoon, painting every little crevice of his face into your mind before you’re slipping past him towards the door. Unable to say anything. 

Because you know if you did you’d break down. And you wouldn’t do that to him right now. Not when he’s told you how much it physically pains him to watch you suffer, how your tears should never fall, how your heart should never hurt. 

“Sirius” Namjoon calls out and you look over your shoulder, “Remember that. My brightest star” 

You wave, swallowing down the sob that claws up your throat. 

And you’d barely made it halfway home before your life had slipped from beneath your feet for a third time. 

Stem snapped, and petals picked; a rotting rose left to decompose on blood-soaked concrete, with the regrets of not even leaving Namjoon behind with a final ‘I love you’. And a faint wish that life after you would fare him a little better. 

thank you for reading!! <3 🌌

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

Bad Cop Chronicles | MYG - Masterlist

LAST UPDATE: 4/17/22

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: smut, crack, DadYoongi!AU, BadCop!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: Change from chapter to chapter - please check each carefully!

Word Count: 7k so far

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don't own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Yoongi would do anything for his daughter. No matter who might get hurt.

Part 1 - Anything

Part 2 - Everything

Part 3 - Something

Part 4 - Nothing

Part 5 - Fight or Flight

Part 6 - Burning Down

PLEASE NOTE: These are written as inspiration strikes - no idea how many parts there will be!

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.