"This is miserable," you mumble to yourself.

You're currently slouched on the couch staring at the ceiling, doing nothing besides watching the blades of the fan rotate as you try not to die of boredom. It's been two weeks since you were discharged and you're starting to go stir crazy.

It was nice to stay home and lounge the first few days, especially when THE Kim Namjoon is at your beck and call. But after an additional 12 days of doing nothing, you can really feel it beginning to wane on you. You've combed through every murder documentary possible, you've rewatched In The Soop (both seasons), you've played all of Namjoon's video games, and you've even read through some of his books.

The wounds on your head and thigh don't hurt much anymore; the stitches are even starting to dissolve. The bigger problem is your wrists. The rings around them have scabbed over and are so itchy you want to scream. Namjoon yells at you like an overbearing mother when he sees you scratching. You have a little bit of scabbing left on your ankles but not much.

You're bored. You're itchy. You're cranky. But the worst part of it all – you're horny as fuck and Namjoon refuses to touch you.

You made the mistake of bringing him to your last checkup. The doctor complimented you on how fast you're healing but kept reiterating how your heart rate needs to stay low; blood circulating too quickly could potentially open the wound on your thigh. He specifically advised abstaining from "physical activity."

You two have made out here and there but he stops it when you start breathing too hard for his comfort, regardless of your protests. You've tried handling it yourself a few times but it's just not the same; the orgasms you experience from Namjoon aren't possible to replicate.

He knows you've been irritable the last day or two but he assumes it's just from boredom and itchy wrists.

"Hey baby," Namjoon grins, walking through the door. "I brought you your favorite ice cream."

You sit up and turn to look at him — well, glare at him — but your irritation doesn't last long when you see him already scooping the cookie dough ice cream into a bowl for you. Your eyes light up as you watch him walk over to you, setting the bowl on the coffee table while sitting down beside you.

I guess ice cream will have to do for now.

"How was work?" you ask him, taking the bowl of frozen serotonin.

"It was good," he smiles, flashing that stupid ass dimple before leaning in to kiss your temple. "We finally finished the writing for our mini album and we're scheduled to start recording next week. How was your day?"

"Same as usual," you shrug, shoving a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth. "Just trying not to jump out of your window. I became friends with your housekeeper today. She's probably never coming back since I talked her ear off the whole time."

"I'm sure you were fine," he chuckles, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear.

He looks good as fuck right now, probably having just hit the gym before coming home. He's got a sleeveless red muscle shirt on and tight black jogger shorts that only cover half his thighs when sitting down. His honey skin is still glowing in some places, making the muscles on his arms and legs look even more defined. All you can think about are the chiseled abs underneath that bothersome fabric.

"Thanks for the ice cream," you mumble, tearing your gaze away from his torso. Just being within a foot of him is already stirring up your desire for him; his body heat is radiating onto you, sending tingles down your arm. He's hardly touched you and the knot is already forming in your stomach.

Namjoon also hasn't been cuddling you much, afraid he's going to injure your rib in his sleep. You're being completely touch starved against your will.

Looks like it's going to be another long night.

"Of course," he smiles. "Anything for you."

I swear to god if he doesn't stop flashing that sexy ass smile at me I'm taking a toaster bath.

"I'm going to shower, I'll be right back," he says before placing another peck to your temple.

He has no idea that these small gestures that would normally be very sweet are actually killing you on the inside.

You groan into your new Koya pillow you'd been gifted two days ago. Last Sunday night Namjoon had walked in on you cuddling your Chimmy pillow and exiled him to the guest room, returning home Monday with a Koya plushie. Sometimes when Namjoon's not home you go squeeze Chimmy to let him know you still love him.

While Namjoon is showering you hobble over to the sink to rinse your bowl. The doctor had said it's okay to start putting 10-20 percent pressure on your leg, so you're able to move pretty freely now as long as you're careful.

You limp over to the espresso machine and start up a decaf cappuccino, palms resting against the counter as you wait.

Maybe I need to meditate. Or pick up a hobby to distract myself. I can't keep acting like a horny high schooler who can't get laid.

God, I'm so fucking cranky.

Once the coffee is finished, you pick up your cup and lean back against the counter, bringing it to your lips to take a sip. You proceed to choke on the hot liquid as soon as Namjoon walks out of his room.

This motherfucker actually has the audacity to come out in gray sweatpants with no shirt on, drying the side of his head with his towel.

You gawk at him like a feral animal as he makes his way to the fridge, opening the doors to grab an energy drink. Droplets of water still remain against his v line, making the direction of your gaze very clear.

"What are you looking at?" he laughs.

"Why are you doing this to me?" you whisper frustratedly, not removing your gaze from his waist.

"You've seen this a hundred times," he chuckles, taking a swig of his drink. "I can't walk around my own home without a shirt on?"

"Not when your girlfriend is horny as hell and you won't let her touch you."

"Are you seriously that horny?" Namjoon snorts, his voice coming out condescendingly. At least that's how you take it.

Your eyes furiously shoot up to his and he already knows he's fucked up. "I didn't mean it like tha-"

"Well I'm super fucking happy for you," you grit through clenched teeth, setting your coffee down to cross your arms. "You haven't been touched in two weeks either and you're just fine. Unless you have been touched? Maybe that's why you're unfazed?"

Namjoon's eyes widen at the sudden accusation.

You're just saying things out of pent up anger and you know it, but you can't help yourself. You're embarrassed to hear you've been craving him but he hasn't been craving you. The feeling makes your chest feel like it's on fire, tightening your throat.

"That's not true and you know it," he glares, turning fully towards you.

"Do I?" you scoff, looking into the living room to avoid eye contact. Your whole body is tensing in both anger and anxiety, making it difficult to think rationally. "Your psychotic ex tortured me and now that I'm scabbed up and ugly you aren't sexually attracted to me anymore. Have you found something better already?"

You've now moved on to passive aggressively spilling your insecurities out to him. You hate the ugly scars on your wrists and have been feeling so unattractive having to hop around everywhere, not being able to do much without the help of someone else.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he scowls, slamming his drink on the island. "If I'm not working then all of my attention has been on you. Me not fucking you doesn't mean I'm cheating on you."

Namjoon is usually very calm and patient with you and your outbursts, but not today. You can feel the anger fuming off of him just as strongly as it is you. A wave of nausea comes crashing over you as your body begins to manifest the stress physically. Tears of hurt and anger brim in your eyes as your chest and throat tighten with more anxiety. You know you're the one at fault here but you can't seem to calm down.

"A very solid argument," you smile sarcastically, your eyes returning to meet his. "But thanks for not denying I'm scabbed up and ugly. You're a real keeper."

Before you start to cry, you move to storm towards the guest bedrooms. You put your full weight on your leg out of anger and make sure not to wince from it even though it hurts. You make it three steps before Namjoon has you scooped up by your waist.

"Don't put pressure on it like that!" he yells from behind you, making your tears of frustration slip over your lashes.

"Let me go!" you yell right back, trying to wriggle from his arms. "Stop acting like my fucking mom! Hell, even she nags less than you do!"

He winces as you slam your fist into his forearm but he doesn't let go. He drags you to his bedroom as you flail like a toddler in his arms.

"Let me go, you prick!" you growl through clenched teeth, uselessly trying to pry his arms off you.

He throws you onto his bed, making you gasp as you feel a twinge in your ribs. "What the fuck are yo-"

Your breath gets caught in your throat as you see warm tears of anger flowing down his cheeks. The look in his eyes makes you shrink back into the mattress; they're filled with rage but also sadness and brokenness, making your stomach turn over.

"Every night I lay there and want to hold you," he grits through his teeth, hands balled into fists. "Every night I lay there in agony, wanting to hug you, to feel you, to touch you, to kiss you, to be inside of you. I so desperately want to make love to you again and have you trembling underneath me as you cry out my name."

Your face flushes a light shade of pink under your tear stains. He's not usually this straightforward and it's catching you off guard.

"But I can't," his voice cracks, shattering your heart into pieces. "Not only did the doctor tell me not to, but I notice when you jolt yourself awake at 3am from the nightmares. I've been awake when you turn over and cry silently into your pillow. And do you think I don't realize how little you've been eating?"

The lump in your throat almost suffocates you as you bite into your lip, regretting every word you said in the kitchen. He's in just as much pain as you are, maybe even more.

"You tell me not to feel guilty but that's not possible," he says haggardly, trying to wipe his tears. "I know I'm the reason you're suffering like this. You never would've been hurt if you hadn't met me."

He turns to sit down on the bed, his back facing you as he buries his head in his hands. You watch as his shoulders tremble, trying to contain his sobs.

You slowly sit up and crawl towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist and placing your cheek against his shoulder blade.

"I'm sorry," you murmur against him, squeezing him tight. "I didn't know you were hurting like this. I didn't mean anything I said in there. I'm sorry, Joon."

"Don't apologize," he croaks out. "This isn't your fault, it's mine."

"No," you say softly. "I was out of line back there and I'm sorry for lashing out. I've been feeling really insecure lately and instead of talking to you I took it out on you. I know you'd never do anything like that. I know how much you love me."

"I love you so much it's suffocating," he shakily exhales, face still pressed into his palms.

"You have one thing mixed up though," you smile softly as he relaxes in your arms. "I'm not suffering. I wouldn't have been this happy if I hadn't met you. I never would've gotten to understand the amount of love and affection I can feel for another person. I'd go through it all over again just to meet you."

He slowly lifts his head from his hands, unwrapping your arms from him so he can turn towards you.

"You are right, I am still hurting," you say softly, brushing the tears off his face. "You might see me cry sometimes but you apparently don't notice the way I light up when you walk through the door. Or how loud my heartbeat gets when you kiss me. Or the grin that sits on my face when you text me."

You place your forehead against his, grabbing his hand.

"My happiness greatly outweighs my sadness," you smile. "So I need you to stop thinking of me as some miserable person because of you. Take that burden off of your shoulders because it's not true."

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he rests his head against yours, his thumb smoothing over the back of your hand.

"Do you think you can control your breathing?" he asks quietly.

"My breathing?" you frown in confusion. "What are you talking abou-"

Turning his body fully towards you, he presses his hands against your shoulders to gently push you onto your back. Your eyes shimmer as he leans in to place a tender kiss against your lips, slowly running his hand up your uninjured thigh to anchor your waist, your skin burning where he touches.

A shiver runs down your spine as he slips his tongue between your lips, greedily tasting you. Your hands travel up his bare chest to wrap your arms around his shoulders, gripping the muscles on his back.

He positions himself between your legs, making you gasp as he leans his body forward to press his thigh against your clothed heat. He swallows you back into a kiss before trailing his nose across your jawline, nibbling at your skin. You whimper as his leg slowly begins to grind back and forth, increasing your arousal.

"Oh, fuck," you moan softly, nails digging into his shoulders as you feel his hand slide down to replace his thigh. The bolts of electricity shooting through your entire body make it hard to think straight, his slow circular motions starting to make your head spin.

"You are not scabbed up and ugly," he whispers, leaving sloppy kisses against your neck. "You are the most beautiful girl in the world. I love watching your injuries heal each day. It's proof that you survived, and your resilience is incredibly sexy."

You're speechless as your face turns a new shade of red at his words, your body feels like it's floating as he continues to gently stroke your lower half, shooting waves of pleasure over your entire being. Going two weeks without his touch has made you even more sensitive than usual.

"You have to control your breathing," he says softly, returning to meet your eyes. "You can't hold your breath and get your heart pounding too hard. I'm going to stop if you don't breathe calmly."

You bite into your lip as you nod your head, your lower half now aching with desire. He leans back on his knees to hook his fingers under your shorts, slowly dragging them down past your thighs, carefully avoiding your bandaged incision and throwing them to the ground. He groans when he sees that you're not wearing underwear, visibly dripping for him already.

You pull yourself up further onto the bed to give him more room as he nestles his head between your legs.

"I'm serious," he glares up at you, tonguing his cheek, which only turns you on more. "I am not risking opening your wound. Breathe in and out slowly no matter what."

"Okay," you whine, begging for him shamelessly. "I'll breathe."

Your breath hitches as he licks a long, slow, sensual strip up your core, pleasure immediately coursing through your entire body. His hot breath only intensifies your gratification as he places his mouth over your throbbing heat.

His right arm is wrapped under your thigh and over your stomach. He gently presses on your lower abdomen, making you exhale.

"Oh my god," you moan as he begins to circle your clit with his tongue. The sensation you've been craving is so good it makes your back arch and your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your hands grip the sheets by your sides as his tongue begins to slide in and out of you, causing more lustful noises to escape your mouth.

He presses against your stomach again, forcing you to breathe out. You start getting used to controlling your breath as he continues, but breathing is actually intensifying the pleasure at your core. It's making you relax and feel every single stroke of his tongue more intensely.

You gasp again as he slowly enters his middle finger inside you, pumping you back and forth. "F-fuck, Joon," you whimper, earning another abdomen push from him.

His tongue laps against your sensitive bud as he pulses in and out of you, causing your legs to tremble as he adds another finger. "Baby," you moan loudly, gripping his hair. He groans against your core, picking up the pace as he can tell you're close.

"Breathe," he growls against you as you unconsciously try to hold your breath for the orgasm. It's a new sensation for you as you exhale during the height of your release.

"Oh my fucking god," you breathe out. The pleasure washes over you tenfold as you feel every cell in your body tingle with delight. He pumps you through the orgasm until he feels you go limp, slowly easing out of you.

"Holy shit," you exhale, staring at the ceiling.

"Feel better?" he chuckles, pushing himself up and wiping his face clean.

"Not yet," you grin, quickly sitting up to reach for his sweatpants. "Now it's your turn."

________________

: Chappy 38 ~

Jesus. Over 3k words.

This story has a lot more smut than I first intended lol

I ended up finding an editor AND an author to help so that's made writing 10x easier

I hope you're enjoying the story so far :) There's still a lot left

Btw I'm keeping track of you guys that always comment and like each chapter. One day when I'm rich and famous I'll take care of you all.