Sleep With Me | KNJ x Reader

Ch 38 | Breathe

Y/N's POV:

"This is miserable," you mumble to yourself.

You're currently slouched on the couch, staring up 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 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."

The two of you 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.

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

"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 navy 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.