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Life was simple, for the most part, and that’s really all you could ask for.
Your apartment complex was relatively quiet, you could pay the bills, your job was done right out of the comfort of your bedroom (or living room, or bathroom…), and you had a lovely boyfriend who somehow managed to both coddle you and give you the kind of space you needed all at the same time. Honestly, your life was as close to perfect as it had ever been, no matter how little the young past you would believe it.
What wasn’t the greatest, though, was the nigh unbearable shoulder pain you were suffering from due to being hunched over your laptop all day. You were almost positive that you were battling Yoongi for Number One Sloucher, a fact you know only by word of mouth -- you weren’t exactly close to the other guys. It wasn’t on purpose or due to conflict or anything, it’s just that Bangtan was a group of seven incredibly busy men and it was hard enough to find time with Namjoon as it is. Plus, you had a little hunch that maybe Namjoon likes you being separated from that part of his life. Not in a malicious way, that you were positive of. You weren’t complaining, anyway -- you had no interest in getting even a taste of any sort of limelight, and you’ve talked about that plenty over the years.
You liked your quiet, you liked your space, and Namjoon knew that. In fact, that might’ve been part of what made you perfect for each other. A sharp sting between your shoulder blades quickly reminded you of your less than perfect situation, however.
Currently, your eyes burned into the white ceiling of your living room. You wiggled helplessly, trying to rub some relief into your spine after your long workday. You’d already popped what was probably an unhealthy amount of ibuprofen, but you were running out of patience waiting for relief to finally come. The cool temperature of the floor was a nice little refresher, but your eyebrows were still pinched together with every ache that clawed up your back.
With a loud (and honestly, overdramatic) huff, you rolled yourself over, not sure if all the creaking came from the floor or your bones. With your cheek squished against the floor, you could properly see the second hand ticking away on the clock hanging from the opposite wall. It was a little late, and it was starting to look like Namjoon wasn’t going to show up tonight. The two of you weren’t on a schedule, so to speak, but he’d usually roll in when he had an evening gym session followed by a late morning lined up for the next day. Tour was coming up and you knew he was busier than usual. You also knew that Kim Namjoon was the king of completely losing all semblance of time in the name of music. You can't say you were any different when it came to your own passions, so you didn’t hold it against him.
But still, you kind of missed the big oaf.
As if on cue, your front door clicks. Well, it’s more like the handle wiggles for a moment, stops, tugs, wiggles, and then clicks open, which is basically door-speak for “Namjoon is here and still doesn’t know how to make the keycard work”. Of course, you can’t help but smile. You make no move to get up and greet him, though, eyes straining upward to glance at the entrance.
You can hear him drop what you assume is his gym-slash-overnight bag by the door. He takes a moment to actually get to where you can see him - most likely busy taking off his mask, shoes, and removing his beanie, trying to ruffle his hair to look somewhat presentable before he appears. It’s a laughable fight, of course; there is a zero percent chance Namjoon will ever look like anything other than a big sweaty mess after the gym. A very attractive one, though. You take note of that as his eyes scan the room for you. You can tell he almost calls your name, but you gave a weak wave to pull his gaze down. His eyebrows are raised, clearly unsure what to make of the picture in front of him.
“You… you don’t have pants on, babe.”
Oh, classic Namjoon. He finds his partner sprawled on the floor, looking like they were recently crushed by a big cartoon piano, and all he does is put immediate laser-precision focus on your ass. You can’t help but snort, calling him out for just that.
“That’s the first thing you notice, my -- honestly, Namjoon, what sane person would wear anything but underwear if they had the luxury of working at home?” You caw, and he seems to thoughtfully consider that with a slow nod and his eyes pointing up to his right as it stirs around in his brain. You laugh, but it’s cut off pretty quickly by the sharp pain in your shoulders.
“Oh, shit. You good?” Namjoon notes your discomfort immediately, padding towards you and tossing his phone onto the couch before kneeling at your side. He places a large, comforting hand on your shoulder. “Breaking your back again?” He questions with a fond little grin.
“Very funny.” You grunt, closing your eyes when his palm rests against your body. With a sigh, you move to fold your arms underneath your head so it’s not flat against the hardwood anymore.
“How about a massage?” He inquires, giving up the teasing pretty easily. His thumb gently swipes back and forth between your shoulder blades, the loose t-shirt fabric bunching up and flattening back out again each time.
“Joon…” You sigh, before following up with a little chuckle. “Come on. If anyone needs a massage, it’s you. I have a feeling choreography and a gym regimen is a bit more strenuous than looking at a screen and listening to podcasts all day.” Honestly, you weren’t very self-deprecating most of the time (at least not now, older and a bit more to-terms with yourself), but obviously your words had enough sting to make Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow a little.
“Hey, come on.” He chides, nudging your side with one of his knees. “You work just as hard as me, don’t say stuff like that.” You’re about to interrupt, because that’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard in your life, but he follows up. “I’m serious! You do everything yourself. Do you know how much stuff people just… do for me?” He laughs, although it’s a little exasperated. “It’s enough stuff to where I don’t even know what a lot of the stuff is!”
It puts a little smile on your face, and when you open your eyes again, his matches yours. You make a show of rolling your eyes before shutting them again. “Fine. Massage permission granted.”
“Oh, wow. That easy?” He chuckles as he maneuvers himself so he can straddle the back of your thighs. The silky material of his athletic shorts feels quite nice against your skin, and you can’t help but relax a little already. Normally you wouldn’t even let Namjoon try something like this (he’s way too heavy handed and has accidentally left bruises more than once), but you think that today it’s exactly what you need to just fucking knock your spine back into place.
His big palms rest on your shoulders, rubbing his thumbs along the crease of the blades as gently as he was capable of. “Up at the top, right?”
You nod with a little hum, wiggling a bit to get comfortable under his weight. “Down to like, the middle, yeah.” He moves his hands down to the center of your back as a question and you nod again in confirmation. “Thanks, Joonie.”
“I’ve gotta be good for something, right?” He responds, a playful lilt to his voice. He starts to work, though, and things quickly get quiet, save for the long squeaks of the old floors every time he pressed down hard into the sides of your spine with the weight of his upper body. You can’t help but groan with the wood below you, feeling the pain being pushed out of you by your boyfriend’s hands.
He molds his palms over the wide area of your shoulder blades before pushing beneath them, slowly making his way up and down the outer lengths of your spine. You know he enjoys the way your flesh squishes underneath his fingertips -- and, now that you think about it, you also know he loves the way your thighs make a perfect seat for him. He also loves the way your ass looks, he loves the way --
Well. The more you think about it, the more the very, very obvious erection sandwiched against your backside makes a lot of sense.
“Namjoon…” you start, but are very quickly interrupted by a choked “sorry!” that you can’t help but snort about. “Look, it’s… you’re not wearing pants, okay!” He whines in just the cutest way, obviously very distraught about his dick and inability to control it (although you’ve had plenty of years to get accustomed to it). It’s cute. Well, cute in concept, at least -- it’s kind of hard to call what could only be described as Namjoon’s Massive Dong cute or anything even remotely close to that. You do sometimes, though, just because he likes it, but that’s besides the point.
“You’re lucky I love you, you know.” You murmur into your arms, peering back over your shoulder and admiring his pink cheeks and the -- well, the very explicit tent in his pants. A tent that wouldn’t make sense, unless… “Wait -- no underwear, really?” You huff with exasperation, but he’s quick to defend himself.
“Hey! You know I…” He pauses, wiggling a little as he looks intently away from your gaze. “...I have a lot going on down there! Sometimes, it’s, I don't know.” His voice progressively weakens into a grumble, and you can’t help but be endeared by him and his ridiculous dick. He leans to leave a tiny, shy kiss at the base of your neck. “Feels better s’all.”
Your laugh becomes gentler, craning one arm back to give his hair a quick ruffle, sweaty as it is. “I know, baby.” You take a moment to focus on how warm and stiff he feels against you, and it makes you realize just how long it had really been. Coyly, you bend your knees a little so your backside presses more firmly up into him, and he gives a tiny grunt between your shoulders in response.
“You’re so sexy, seriously.” He whines again as if it’s a painful revelation, his kisses dotting down the upper notches of your spine. His hands have found his way to your sides, easily making their way underneath the billowing fabric of your shirt. He gently caresses you in an impressive feat of restraint, and you can feel goosebumps start to pop up on your arms when his fingers tease along the sides of your chest.
You can feel his hips start to rock a little, and you can’t help but smile as you wiggle to get your legs open just the tiniest bit, enough to where you can really feel him on you instead of just your butt. After a few more sweet kisses around the neck ring of your tee he leans backwards so he’s properly sitting, if only to see the way his tented cock nuzzles against you. He groans when he gets an eyeful of it, and you feel him shift -- he’s forcing the elastic waistband of his shorts down, struggling a bit before properly freeing his dick, smacking down onto your ass, fat and heavy. You shiver, feeling the searing heat through your thin underwear (the cheap kind, specifically designated for sitting around at home doing nothing, of course).
“C’mon, baby.” You purr to him, just barely bumping your hips backwards to egg on his grinding. It’s low energy, but it’s clearly enough to have him keyed up. You can’t help but watch him over your shoulder, feeling your stomach twist in hot little knots at the lovely expression on his face -- eyes locked onto your backside, enamored with the sight of his dick pressing a little between your legs and up into the cotton-covered crease of your ass. He’s lost in it, his hands moving back to grip and tug at the flesh of your behind, and it’s enough to send a hot jolt of desire from your gut to your thighs.
“Missed you so much…” Namjoon huffs, his hips kicking up the pace. You let your eyes close again, letting yourself focus on the intimate position and just how erotic the stutters of his breaths ring in your ears. At some point, his thumb finds the left leg hole of your underwear, pulling them to the side only to nudge his cock underneath the fabric, tenting the back of the garment every time he thrusts forward. His breath hitches and so does yours at the sensation of skin against skin. You can feel him get a little uncoordinated with his pace -- but uncoordinated isn’t exactly unheard of for Namjoon. He’s just barely sliding against your sex, and fuck, it’s a lot. It’s so much that you can’t really find it within yourself to wait anymore, so you reach back behind you, haphazardly finding his cock and gripping it. You’re about to redirect him and push him down, because god, you know he could just slide right in, and --
“Wait, w-wait -- sorry, sorry, sorry…!”
You’re confused, but only briefly. Namjoon goes impossibly stiff and it’s followed by a distinct wetness that spurts onto the swell of your ass and stains your panties when he presses his head back up and taut into the cotton. It certainly takes you off guard, and you can feel the stuttered little jerks of his hips as he rides his orgasm, and -- God, all you can do is laugh.
As soon as you start to giggle you can feel his weight collapse on top of you, an ‘oomph’ only barely interrupting your tittering. “I’m soooooorrryyyyyy…” He groans against the back of your neck, and you can tell by the tone of his voice that he is simultaneously embarrassed, horrified, and vaguely turned on by your laughter.
“It’s been a while, baby. I know.” You soothe through your giggles. He really is way too heavy, though, and you force him onto his back and roll onto your side so you can properly console him and attempt to tend to his pride. You stroke his hair, threading through the dampness, and -- well, now that you’re really face to face with him, you can certainly smell that he came straight from the gym. You scrunch up your nose, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before begrudgingly hoisting yourself up onto your knees. You attempt to ignore the, honestly, gross wet feeling on your butt, but only for a few seconds before just giving up and tugging them off as you stand.
“C’mon, we’re showering. You smell bad.” You call to him as you take a few steps towards the bathroom, panties in hand. But one look at Namjoon tells you he is focused elsewhere, gaze directly on the shiny stain right above your ass. You also notice that he is just laying on the floor like a doofus, his stupidly huge dick still hanging out and, somehow, still half-hard. For some reason, you’re endeared. You love your big, dumb, horny boyfriend.
“Namjoon!” You call again, and his eyes immediately jerk up to yours. “Shower. Now. And you owe me an orgasm.” You spin on your heel to strut towards the bathroom, and Namjoon is scrambling up off the floor after you before you can even turn the hot water knob.