Namjoon is what one might call... well-rounded. In many things. Music, art, language, culture, thoughts, feelings. He’s got a little bit of everything tucked away somewhere.
And then he’s got a lot of something that isn’t really tucked away. More like protruding out from the upper part of his torso (and maybe a little in the rear, too).
Basically. Namjoon has titties.
And not, like, the typical teeny man boobs most guys come with. They’re practically an A-cup. An extra-small in binder sizes, nearly. If you put your hand on one and grabbed, you might surprise yourself on how much you can hold. Because they’re that big.
This is also what Hoseok did on accident. Grabbed Namjoon’s chest, he means.
“Joonie,” Hoseok hums as he stumbles up on Namjoon from behind, putting his head on his shoulder. “Hey.”
“‘s up?” Namjoon replies easily, letting Hoseok use him as makeshift leverage.
“Tired, hug,” is all he says before wrapping his arms around to back-hug him, squeezing and causing an ooooooof to be released from Namjoon’s lungs.
Hoseok laughs and does it again, raising his arms and fake-attempting to lift Namjoon up off the ground. He lets go, raises his arms once more and his hands grab at Namjoon and then everything stops because soft.
“Yo, what’s under your shirt?” Hoseok laughs, poking since he can’t really be bothered to crane his head and see. “You wearing padding or something?”
“Hoseok...,” Namjoon says slowly. “That’s... You’re fondling my chest...”
There’s a pause.
“I’m what?” Hoseok asks. He clearly thinks Namjoon is joking. “No, you’re wearing something.”
“Literally when have I ever worn something under my shirt, Hoseok?” Namjoon bites, and Hoseok immediately stops and unwraps himself.
“I’m...,” Hoseok trails off as Namjoon turns around, arms crossed. “Um, I just-” Namjoon holds up a hand to stop him.
“Just... Y’know, it’s fine. Forget about it, we’re cool.” Namjoon waves him away as he turns back around to continue whatever he had been doing.
Hoseok excuses himself for the next foreseeable forever.
And, in fact, Namjoon’s larger-than-average chest has had all of the rest of the members take interest (and Hoseok may have spread a rumour that a member, rhymes with Tim Bamgoon, has a squeezable upper torso).
“Hyung,” Jeongguk calls out in the hallway as he travels the company building, searching for the one, the only, Kim Seokjin. His only real goal is to terrorise him, actually, and then maybe pry some food out of him, too, with some cute, I’m-the-youngest-please-treat-me faces.
It’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s just an annoying thing.
“Jin-hyung, where are you?” he sing-songs as he pokes his head around a corner in search of the elder, huffing when he’s met with nothing.
He straightens back up, and as he cranes his arm back to stretch it, his elbow collides with something bouncy and soft. He is in the makeup section of the building, he must’ve bumped into one of the artists.
“Ah, noona, I’m sorry,” he starts off as he turns, ready to bow in apology when he finds that it’s not a makeup artist and definitely not a noona of his.
“Did... Did you call me your noona?” Namjoon asks, furrowing his brows in confusion. Jeongguk doesn’t dare look down to where his elbow touched.
“W-Well, I thought you were- Since this is the makeup section-” he tries to cover up his mistake, but then his eyes betray him and he looks down at the two melons firmly sitting on Namjoon’s chest and he gulps. “Diving.”
Before Namjoon can stop him, Jeongguk is dashing down the hall and this time, actually running into one of the makeup artists.
When Namjoon gets home that night, of course, Taehyung is there to greet him in full with arms open and a boxy smile, ready to embrace.
“Hyung!” he smiles out and Namjoon huffs, trying to rid himself of all his outerwear before Taehyung can trap him in a bear hug. “Welcome home!”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Namjoon says quickly as Taehyung approaches. “God, why is it so cold in here? It’s already freezing outside.”
“Practicing immunity,” Jeongguk chuckles from the sitting room’s couch. Namjoon rolls his eyes and finally gets his jacket off, shivering. Taehyung is bounding forward quicker and Namjoon finally pries off his shoes and sets them on the mat before he stands up and has his lungs immediately deflated.
“Ah, Taehyung, hello,” he grunts out. Despite Taehyung’s lithe form, he’s actually pretty strong. And inescapable during bear hugs. Namjoon is unable to move.
“Missed you at the studio, Namjoonie-hyung,” Taehyung smiles as he rocks them, then hums. “Something’s poking me.” Namjoon is about to ask what it is when Taehyung pulls back and looks down and Namjoon’s nipples are protruding from his breasts. “Ah...”
“Shut up, it’s cold!” Namjoon defends as he covers up his chest and walks away from the prying eyes.
“Ah- Sorry, hyung!” Taehyung tries meekly calling in his direction, but he doesn’t think Namjoon hears him properly.
A couple days pass until Namjoon and Jimin are the ones left home alone. It’s a little odd. They’re never usually alone together, and they’re more used to being close with other people around.
They’re more quiet than anything when left to their own devices on a slow, empty day inside, so Jimin offers to make them ramyeon and put on a show on the TV as background noise while they go about their business.
“I never thanked you,” Jimin says suddenly, halfway through their noodles and a quarter-way through the show’s episode. Namjoon pauses.
“For...?” he prompts.
“Oh, um... Sending me that playlist of contemporary music?” Namjoon makes a noise of understanding. “They’re helping, and they’re really good choices.”
“Well, most of them, I thought of you when I heard them, so I thought I’d just compile them since you’ve been wanting to choreograph more.” Jimin fake-pouts and puts a hand to his chest as he looks over at Namjoon.
“You’re an angel without wings,” he hums. Namjoon turns and raises a brow as he slurps up a noodle.
“So, like a person,” he says, and then smiles when Jimin laughs. And then Jimin tilts his head. “What?”
“Um, you’ve got...a noodle,” Jimin gestures with a finger at Namjoon vaguely. He can feels his ears turning pink as he looks. Because there’s a noodle being slightly crushed between Namjoon’s boobs.
“Where?” Namjoon asks, running a hand over his mouth. Jimin gulps. “Jimin, where?”
“Uh, be- It’s in between your...,” Jimin attempts, and then gestures to his own chest, and finally, Namjoon looks down and sees the stray noodle sitting limply on his skin where his shirt is dipped low. “Y-Yeah.”
“Oh,” is all Namjoon says as he picks up the noodle and, without knowing what else to do, eats it. “Um... Thank you.”
“Uh-huh.” Jimin turns away, as does Namjoon, and they eat the rest of their food in silence.
A week after that, Namjoon finally feels a little less self-conscious. Not that the attention is negative, but it’s not positive, either. It’s all just one surprise after the next. He wouldn’t be surprised if Jackson texted him, just out of curiosity, does he know what a bra feels like to wear?
A day at the studio, presumably, is what Namjoon needs. Just him and Yoongi, making music, hanging out, working. That’s it.
“I’m putting a bass-boost on this part, tell me how it sounds,” Namjoon says tiredly, it having been nearly five hours nonstop. It’s almost midnight. They have practice in the morning.
“Mm,” Yoongi hums, barely audible, from the couch in Yoongi’s studio. Namjoon would’ve asked for them to work in his but in the case that Yoongi will have his tendency to pass out mid-session, he let them work in Yoongi’s smaller space.
Namjoon plays the track and waits for Yoongi’s response. Of which doesn’t come.
Actually, he snores back.
“Hyung,” Namjoon says loudly and Yoongi jolts awake, yawning.
“How long was I asleep?” he asks carefully.
“Barely a few minutes.” He sighs, “We should sleep.”
“Great, goodnight.” It’s silent for a few seconds before Yoongi adds, “You can sleep in here, I’m not kicking you out.”
“...There’s only one couch.”
“And no blanket big enough. Gee, I wonder what glorious solution you can come up with.” Yoongi opens his eyes barely to give Namjoon a glance of exasperation before beckoning him with his chin to the couch.
“Fine,” Namjoon huffs. “If you get mad at me for my sleeping habits, I’m revoking this friendship.” Yoongi laughs belatedly as he reaches to turn off the light and then grabs a blanket from somewhere (Namjoon doesn’t even know). Namjoon saves the file before turning off the monitor, and sending a quick text to Seokjin so he knows they haven’t died.
Gently, Namjoon tucks himself next to Yoongi as they lie down, Yoongi auto-grabbing one of his hands to hold.
“Night, Joon,” he hums.
“Yeah, night, hyung.”
They sleep soundly through the night. So much so that when Yoongi wakes up, he’s suspicious at how well he’s slept. He hums as he slowly awakens, remembering that Namjoon had slept on the couch with him and gently wraps himself around his torso a little more. At least until he himself wakes up.
He adjusts subtly and turns his face inwards, scratching his nose using Namjoon’s torso until he has a thought.
That thought is, what exactly is he doing on Namjoon’s chest with his face?
“...Hyung?” he says groggily. “What’re you-” And his sentence is cut off, presumably because he just looked up to see Yoongi’s face right between his boobs in what seems to be an accidental motorboat. “Can you... Get your face off of me...?”
Yoongi... He doesn’t know what to do.
So he fauxs waking up just then by raising his head and yawning very obviously.
“Oh, Joon, good morning, wow,” he says, unconvincingly as he peels himself off of Namjoon. “Sun’s already up. Guess we should go back to the dorm. Seokjin-hyung probably didn’t bother checking his texts, he’ll be wondering where we are.”
Before Namjoon can utter another word, Yoongi is out the door, leaving his hat and jacket in the corner, and Namjoon on the couch, wondering just what the hell happened.
When they get back home, Yoongi immediately heads for his room while Seokjin looks up from his phone and waves to Namjoon as he shuts the door.
“I was about to text you,” he says from the couch. “You didn’t text you were sleeping at the studio.”
“I did,” Namjoon huffs. He pulls out his phone to double-check, before realising that the text never actually sent. “Well, I did, but it didn’t send.” Seokjin chuckles.
“It’s fine, Namjoon,” he says. “Go change.” Namjoon nods a thanks to Seokjin, making sure his shoes are all the way on the mat before going off to his room.
He sees Namjoon almost every day, has seen him with a tight-fitting shirt and with no shirt. Has seen a lot, actually, but this is wholly different.
Once someone points something out, something you’ve never realised, it’s hard to ignore.
So when Namjoon had come through the door, his eyes had auto-locked on Namjoon’s chest, looking for the so-called boobs Hoseok had so helpfully told them all about.
He tries not to think about it too much, honestly. It doesn’t matter whether or not Namjoon has titties. Whether he has an A-cup or a no-cup. Whether if Seokjin has wondered if it just feels like any regular boob, or if Namjoon’s will be a sort of muscle-y, hard boob.
But Seokjin is chaotic and unashamed by nature in the comfort of his own space and with his own friends, so he walks down the hall and decides to stand in front of Namjoon’s open door.
And there Namjoon is, shirt be damned, stretching out his back, then reaching to massage his shoulder. Seokjin goes to open his mouth, to tell Namjoon about what Hoseok had said and what he’d heard, but then, Namjoon reaches a hand up and does what Seokjin has never really thought about before.
Namjoon massages his boob.
And not as in he grabs it and jiggles it around. But he presses his fingers around the skin and surface of his chest like he’s checking for lumps, and Seokjin can clearly see some give to the skin. Namjoon stretches out his back once more and oh, Seokjin understands why Namjoon keeps having back problems. It’s because of his large chest.
“Hey- Hyung, what’re you doing?” Namjoon says suddenly, having just noticed him in the doorway. “Really, what d’you need?”
“I’m good, thanks,” Seokjin says, before turning and walking away, to the front door, slipping on his shoes, and stepping outside. Just for a quick stroll to ease his mind and his red face.
And finally, Namjoon’s had enough.
He wants to understand why the hell everyone is so bent on seeing his chest.
He goes towards the bathroom, shirt still gone, and shuts the door before looking at himself in the mirror.
Honestly, all he sees is himself. Face, shoulders, torso, arms, hands.
But though, as he turns himself to the side, to see just how much boob he’s giving out, he realises that it’s actually...a lot bigger than he previously thought.
Experimentally, he brings up a hand and pushes his right boob up, and then lets it go. It bounces in place, like he was expecting it to. Then he does it to both boobs.
“Oh, my God,” he says to himself. He faces the mirror again and now he sees it. He never understood the appeal. He sees himself every day. He hadn’t been looking for this kind of feature, necessarily, but now that he can see it, he understands.
He shimmies his chest, watching his tiddies move back and forth with some slight give. He watches as he faces his chest down, seeing his boobs hang. He watches as they flatten out when he leans back to face the ceiling.
And maybe, he likes the attention, now that he understands where everyone is coming from. That he gets why it surprised them all, and to be fair, it gave him one of the biggest surprises in his life.
And maybe, just maybe, he decides: Fuck It.
If they’re interested in his chest, he’ll give them a sight that they’ll never forget.
That next morning, Namjoon wakes up before all the rest of the members, even Jimin, who normally wakes at nine in the morning before anyone else has even considered getting out of bed.
Gently, so as not to wake any of the other members, he heads to his desk drawer and picks out his nipple rings. And the greatest point about this is: nobody actually knows he has his nipples pierced.
It had been a long time ago, back in high school, when he had enough money to spend on whatever he wanted for his birthday one year. After a lot of teenage contemplation, he got his older friend to take him to the tattoo shop to get his nipples pierced. Oh, he cried. He’ll say he didn’t, but he distinctly remembers crying as he held his friend’s hand so tightly he was actually afraid he’d break his fingers.
When they debuted, he decided not to wear them during any performances. And while he still kept the piercings, and wore them every so often to keep the piercing open, he never walked around with them on.
Once the bars are in place, he goes to take his shower. Outside of the bathroom, he hears the other members waking up to the sound of the water running and his (loud) singing performances while he washes himself. And God, this is going to be so rich. He should’ve grabbed the chain to attach, too.
Actually, he’s going to put that on as soon as he gets out.
Once he’s sure everyone is up and moving, he shuts off the water and gets out, towelling off before slipping on only sweats, shirt be damned, and steps into his room one last time to get the chain and attach it to each end of the bars on either side of his chest.
“Morning, Nam...joon,” are the first words out of Hoseok’s mouth as Namjoon walks into the living room of their dorm. His eyes are trained solely on Namjoon’s chest, like he’s greeting his boobs rather than Namjoon himself.
“Morning,” Namjoon replies easily, slipping past him to the kitchen where Taehyung and Jimin are standing together.
“He-,” is all Taehyung manages himself as he sees shirtless, nipple-piercing-adorned, large-chested Namjoon. Jimin simply goes red in the face.
“Hey,” Namjoon says back, just as easily as before, reaching up to the cabinet and watching out of the corner of his eye Taehyung’s and Jimin’s eyes following the strain of the chain against his skin. Namjoon comes back down with a box of chips and reaches into it, biting down on one. “What’s up?”
“Joon, why’re you shirtless?” Yoongi asks behind him. “Have some decenc- Oh-” As Namjoon turns around, Yoongi’s sentence gets cut off from watching the chain whipping with his movements. “What...”
“What’s- Wow, boobs,” are the next words, coming from Jeongguk from behind Yoongi. The toothbrush in his mouth falls out and to the floor as his mouth hangs open. Namjoon feigns confusion, tilting his head, eating another chip as he enjoys this.
“What’s going on, is this a family meeting?” Seokjin’s voice resonates from the other room. “What’re you all crowding in here for- Oh, my God, Namjoon, what the hell.”
Namjoon turns to see Seokjin standing there with his hands on his head, looking at Namjoon’s pierced breasts in astoundment like he’s unable to process the information.
“Hi, hyung,” he greets cheekily.
“Namjoon, what are you doing?” he asks, gesturing to him. “When the hell did you get nipple bars?”
“Long time ago.”
“It was my birthday.” Seokjin closes his eyes, and Namjoon knows he’s being vague and difficult on purpose, but honestly, this is too funny and rich to let go.
“Listen when I ask you what you’re doing,” Seokjin says, his tone on the verge of breaking, and Namjoon puts the chips down.
“It’s all of your guys’ faults!” he claims, gesturing to them. “Whoever started pointing out my chest. Then you all started acting weird around me about it and getting all flustered. And y’know what? This was the last straw.”
“Technically, Hoseok-hyung started it,” Jimin says, and Hoseok, off to the side, gasps in betrayal.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. Now you all have enough material to work with, and I’m done here.” Namjoon stretches his arms over his head and smirks as he watches all of his friends’ faces turn simultaneously red. “Just wait ‘til you find out what else I have pierced.”
As he walks away, counting this as a win for himself, he hears one of the members call out, “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?!”