Love

Love

Namjoon is your ex-husband, the man who committed when he didn't really want to. So why is he still hanging around now that you're over?

Pairing: Namjoon x f!reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 2.2k

Genre: E2L

Warnings: Sex, mean Namjoon

Kim Namjoon thinks of himself as slow to react, more of an analytical overthinker than a knee-jerk reaction kind of guy.

But when he sees the man put his hand on his ex-wife’s shoulder, he’s stepped between them and steered her away without a second thought.

You look pretty with your hair down, he thinks to himself.

He doesn’t notice the way you’re frowning at him until you swat at his arm.

He realise he’s slipped it around your waist, holding you the way he always used to when you were married.

‘Mr Kim,’ you say, haughty, lifting your chin.

‘Why are you calling me that?’ he asks, hurt. ‘Joon-ah is just fine.’

‘I can’t call you Joon-ah,’ you reply. ‘That’s over familiar.’

Namjoon resists the very strong urge to remind you of all the times you’ve cried his name.

Joon. Joon-ah. Jagi. Baby.

You’re looking at him with a brow creased with concern. ‘Have you lost weight?’

‘Yes,’ he says, seeing an opportunity. ‘I don’t get your cooking anymore.’

‘Namjoon,’ you say, stern. ‘You can afford to eat anything you want.’

‘It doesn’t taste the same without you,’ Namjoon says. He flashes a dimple at you for good measure.

‘Stop trying to be cute,’ you chide. ‘It doesn’t suit you.’

In all reality, Namjoon’s never thought of himself as cute, but you’ve always seemed to find him so.

He smiles, and he can see the corner of your mouth tugging upwards.

Then you sigh. ‘Come on then, let’s get you some food.’

Namjoon places a hand on your back as you leave the room together, enjoying the familiar feel of your back under his palm.

You arch a little, reminding him of a angry cat.

‘Namjoon,’ you say, warning.

‘Sorry baby,’ he murmurs, obedient. 

You look at him, eyebrow raised, and he grins at you, cheeky.

You laugh. ‘Namjoon. Stop.’

Namjoon knows he’s in then. It’s never that hard to work his way into your good books. 

***

The next morning he wakes to your naked back as you sit up. 

‘Hey,’ you say. 

He loves the warmth of your smile, especially when you’ve just woken up like this.

‘Hey,’ he says, shifting in the sheets, propping an arm behind his head.

He can see the way your eyes drop to his bicep.

‘I’ve been working out,’ he tells you.

You roll your eyes and get up, ignoring the way he’s openly ogling your ass.

Your back to him, you ask, ‘hey, want to get dinner later?’

Namjoon’s been watching you so closely he can see the way your whole body stills, just for a moment, as you wait for him to answer.

He doesn’t want to give you false hope. 

You’re exes for a reason.

‘That’s not a good idea,’ he says.

Your voice comes out smooth, assured. 

‘Of course,’ you say. 

You’re fully dressed now, slipping into the heels you were wearing last night, picking up your clutch.

You turn to him. 

‘See you around, Namjoon.’

Namjoon watches you walk to the door of the bedroom.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t get up to see you out.

You keep walking like you don’t expect him to.

***

The party Namjoon’s at is a drag, his date is beautiful but her friends are dull, uninteresting.

He’s considering pulling his date into a corner, a quiet alcove, a little light seduction, when you walk into the room.

You don’t see him at first, which is funny because he’s one of the tallest people in the room.

He drinks you in. You shine, you always have in his eyes, with the way you hold your head up, the way your eyes coolly survey the people around you. 

The dress you have on makes his pants feel tight at the crotch. 

You’re looking around, casual, and then your eyes meet his.

And freeze.

Namjoon drops the arm he’s still got loosely slung around his date.

The look in your eyes makes his heart squeeze. Then you look away, and when you meet his gaze again your expression is shuttered.

You wave a hand at him, casual, and turn to greet the couple who’ve approached you.

It’s a while before you’re unaccompanied.

Namjoon comes up to you, confident in the way he knows you find attractive.

You smile at him, cool, confident in your own way.

‘Nice dress,’ he says.

‘This old thing?’ you reply. You take a sip of wine, eye him over the glass.

‘Enjoying the party?’ Namjoon asks.

‘I am,’ you say. ‘You?’

‘More now,’ Namjoon says. 

He moves so he’s closer to you. He’s always liked the way you have to look up at him.

You’re not looking at him, though. You’re facing away, and Namjoon realises you’re looking at his date, coming towards the both of you.

Hye Mi’s no fool. She takes in the way he’s standing, turned towards you, and she smiles sweetly at him.

‘Shall we get going, Joon?’

Namjoon allows himself to be led away. He looks back at you once, and you’re staring down at your wine like it’s fascinating.

There’s something about the line of your shoulders that speaks of emotion, held back.

He thinks, not for the first time, how beautiful you are.

***

Namjoon’s at the gym working with his personal trainer, when he sees your familiar ponytail.

You’re running, facing out at the floor to ceiling windows, ponytail bouncing, expression determined.

Namjoon sees an opportunity when the machine next to yours frees up.

He gets on, catches the way you look over casually then freeze when you see him.

You smile and then turn to face forward again.

He’s a patient man. He runs alongside you, slow, until you stop your machine and get off.

You’re out of breath, sweating, hair sticking to your face.

You’re beautiful.

You say, casually, ‘See you, Namjoon.’

‘Wait,’ he says. ‘Want to get a drink?’

***

He ends up buying you a beer at the sports bar a block down from the gym because ‘one drink, somewhere close’ is all you’ll agree to.

You’ve changed into a hoodie, baggy sweats, tied your hair back loosely.

You eye him over your beer. ‘All good with you, Mr Kim?’

‘All good, Mrs Kim,’ he replies automatically, because it’s what he used to say to you.

Your mouth twists into a grimace.

‘Yeah sorry ex Mrs Kim.’

Namjoon’s irrationally annoyed with you, like how he felt in the final stretch of your failed marriage.

You’d acted like you couldn’t stand him, looking through him, acting like you and he were in a race to check out. 

One you were determined to win.

And now you’ve both lost. 

A part of him wants you to pine after him the way he pined after you. He’s still butthurt about it, so sue him.

Namjoon looks up at his name being called.

Hye Mi’s walking towards you both, a furrow between her brows that gives him a tingle of discomfiture. 

‘Hey,’ she says, voice sharp.

You look up, and Namjoon can see the way your back snaps straight.

‘What’s going on here, Namjoon?’ Hye Mi asks.

‘I’m having a drink with Y/N,’ Namjoon replies. He’s got just enough beer in him to not give a fuck about Hye Mi, he’s still got just enough residual anger with you to not care what you think, either.

Why does talking to you make him so angry sometimes?

‘You’re divorced, right?’

You look up, brow raised, that cold bitchy face on that makes Namjoon simultaneously aroused, scared and a tiny bit in love with you.

‘Yeah but we still fuck sometimes,’ you reply, brazen, shrugging with a calculated insouciance you only get when you’re angry. 

Namjoon’s been on the receiving end enough times to recognise it, now.

Hye Mi looks at him, like she’s waiting for him to speak up.

Namjoon can’t muster up anything better than, ‘yeah, we do.’

You snort, Namjoon laughs, and Hye Mi storms away.

You chug the last of your beer and get up. ‘You’re an ass,’ you tell him. ‘She’s not gonna fuck you again.’

Namjoon shrugs. ‘That’s what you said when I moved out,’ he reminds you.

You laugh quietly. ‘You’re an asshole, Namjoon, no wonder our marriage didn’t last.’

‘Wait,’ Namjoon calls after you, as you turn and step away. ‘Aren’t we going to?’

You give him a once over, from his scuffed sneakers to his loose sweats to the chain between his collarbones. 

‘Nah,’ you say. ‘I have plans.’

Namjoon watches you walk away.

***

Namjoon’s loading groceries into the back of his car when he sees you, walking briskly towards your car. 

You walk fast, always like you have somewhere to be. 

He’s about to call your name when you’re greeted by a tall man in a suit. 

The way his hand slips under your elbow, helping you reach up to press a kiss to his cheek, rankles Namjoon. 

It’s familiar, intimate. 

Namjoon calls your name anyway. 

You turn around, scanning for him. Namjoon notices then that you’ve got makeup on, that your hair is styled beautifully.

That the dress you’re wearing showcases your perfect ass the way it deserves to be shown.

You walk over, the tall man in tow.

Namjoon’s got no interest in a dick swinging contest when you spent the night riding his own dick two nights ago.

You’re introducing the tall man as Seojoon, and Namjoon works to hide the flicker of emotion across his face when you introduce him as Namjoon, your ex husband.

How well do you know this guy that you’re so open about the truth between you?

Seojoon nods very politely. ‘Shall we get going?’ He smiles at Namjoon, a clear dismissal, and Namjoon moves quickly. 

He says your name, locks eyes with Seojoon over your head as you turn to him.

You’re looking up at Namjoon, curious.

‘Let me know if you need me,’ Namjoon says quietly, leaning down to speak close to your ear.

‘I’ll be fine,’ you reply just as quietly.

Namjoon watches, jaw set, as Seojoon cups your elbow and leads you away.

***

The buzzing at his door is insistent, like someone’s jabbing erratically at the call button.

Namjoon already knows it’s you.

He pulls open the door, scoops you into his arms and tosses you on the couch.

You’re looking up at him, lips stained from red wine, hair falling over one eye.

Namjoon cups himself over his loose sweats.

‘Get on your knees,’ he says, voice thick from the sleep you pulled him out of.

You’re already sliding down to the floor, head in front of his crotch.

Namjoon weaves a hand into your hair, grips tight.

‘Come on, finish what you started,’ he says, harsh.

You haven’t done anything but look up at him with wide eyes and parted lips, and Namjoon’s cock is already filling out.

‘Didn’t he fuck you well enough?’ Namjoon jeers.

He pulls your face against his hardening cock. 

‘Why’d you come to me, ex-wife?’

‘I don’t know,’ you spit, defiant. 

It’d be more convincing if you weren’t already burying your face against his crotch, mouthing over his erect cock.

‘I know,’ Namjoon says, voice velvety as you tug down his sweats. His cock jumps out, pokes you in the face, and you moan like you can’t wait for it.

He grabs your hair, tugs you up, slaps your hand away from where you’re trying to grab him.

‘Because no one fucks you like I do,’ he tells you.

His voice is quiet but stark in the silence of his apartment.

He pushes your legs apart, enters you, and the breath you suck in sounds like a sob.

He doesn’t want to see your face right now.

Namjoon stares at a point in the wall as he begins to move, concentrates on how your cunt feels around him.

You’re so quiet he wants to check on you but he can’t. 

He doesn’t give a fuck but that’s not the whole story, because behind the wall he’s built he thinks that he still loves you so much he can’t face it.

And when you’re under him like this, the look in your eyes makes him want to cry.

Namjoon hisses because it’s snug, him being in you like this. He hits deep, rocking his hips against yours, stroking your clit until your breathing’s more of a steady pant against his neck.

‘Joon,’ you manage, high and sobbing, and Namjoon, against his better judgement, flicks his gaze to your face.

You’re beautiful, and he could fuck you forever if you’d let him.

‘Come on, come on,’ he grunts. He grasps your ass, pulls you against him, grinds his cock so deep he thinks he might pass out from the pleasure of it.

He thinks that your cunt pulsing around him is the single greatest sensation of his life.

‘Fuck,’ he groans. 

You’re milking the cum out of him, and Namjoon needs to give you all of it.

Fuck, he needs to give you everything.

There’s a beat of absolute stillness at the peak of his orgasm as the world stops. 

And then it all comes rushing back.

He floats for a while then, relishing the scent and feel of you.

Your voice sounds out in the darkness.

‘You’re right, Namjoon, no one fucks me like you do.’

Your voice is completely neutral, a cover for the shades of meaning underneath. 

‘I know, baby,’ Namjoon says. 

His tears mingle with yours.

He knows he should get up, but for now, he can’t seem to let you go. 

©hamsterclaw 2023