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Big Hit Producer Kim Namjoon has orbited his supposed soulmate for years. It's frustrating, this constant state of almost meeting. Then the words on his arm disappear. Right as a bike messenger with a very familiar face is struck by a delivery van and pretty much dies in front of him.
Working as a bike courier by day and underground rapper pretty much any other time, Min Yoongi's life and work takes him all through the Gangnam district of Seoul. The regular changing of his soul words is a given, right up until they disappear as a van runs him down.
23K words
Explicit
M/M
“Harder. Please.”
The whispered entreaty drove Kim Namjoon’s hips bucking forward, drawing an appreciative moan from the woman impaled on his cock. Heavy bass rhythms thumped just beyond the locked door behind him, providing a beat to sync his movements to. An impatient fist pounded on said door. Maybe someone shouted hurry the fuck up. Maybe he didn’t care.
“C’mon, baby.” The girl riding his cock wriggled.
He’d already forgotten her name, but fuck, she felt so fine. The pussy clenching snug around his dick chased a high, dragging him closer and closer to the edge.
“God damn, you feel good.”
He grunted something contextually appropriate.
“What do they say?” Delicate fingers wrapped around his left forearm, perfectly fake thumb nail scraping the skin of his inner wrist. “Your words.”
Fuck. They always wanted to talk about the words. Did she want to kill all possibility of an orgasm?
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Don’t be like that.” She pushed back against him, inner muscles clamping down hard enough to draw a hissing curse out of him. “If they’re there, they matter.”
Namjoon didn’t remember a time without the words, but his parents told him he first asked about them the summer before kindergarten.
The fucking words.
Some were boring. Some were rude. Occasionally sad. Or funny. Random. Always without context. Always special. A tiny sneak peek into the future. Proof that someone existed out there just for him.
The words marked the first conversation with a nebulous unknown, the soulmate.
“Then they aren’t there.” He wrapped a hand in her hair, tugging until she arched her back with a husky moan. “But you... Are. Right. Here.”
He punctuated each word with a snap of his hips.