Namjin smut (Oneshots)

Get You In Trouble

He just considers this as he looks down at his notebook with the lyrics. “Maybe you’re right. Producer-nim bought the whole sample anyway, so I am technically free to use Bei’s voice in the chorus.”

“There you go then. See, simple!” he says, more to himself than to Namjoon. Crisis averted, he celebrates internally.

As simple as it hypothetically would be to just insert his verses into the pre-existing sample and do a quick informal release of the track, Namjoon has his eyebrows all scrunched up as he starts chewing on the end of his pen like he always does when he’s about to pull an all-nighter.

The worry blooming in Seokjin’s chest is what compels him to blurt out “Don’t sleep too late, ok Namjoon-ah?” as he exits the studio. He’s met with a grunt, a hasty “goodnight”, and a flick of his pen. Our beloved leader, thinks Seokjin sarcastically. So expressive sometimes.

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That night as he washes up and gets ready for bed, that chorus cycles on loop in his head. It’s an incredibly efficient earworm, in that it has already burrowed through most of Seokjin’s head and is escaping out of his mouth in periodical hums. “It’s gon’ get you in trouble…” he sings, into the mirror as he pats moisturiser into his skin, purposefully making his voice get deeper and harsher than usual. It doesn’t work out too well— he looks constipated.

He reverts back to how he’d naturally sing it, eyes fluttering shut. “It’s gon’ get you in trouble…” he sings again, this time lighter, smoother. He sings it like he’s singing it to himself, then he imagines singing it to Namjoon, like he’s chiding him about the explicitness of his verses. It's gonna get you in trouble, Namjoon, if you keep doing these stupid sexy raps. He surprises himself by how much he likes how he sounds when he lets himself go, when he falls into the dips and peaks of the song.

Soon enough, he’s calling Namjoon. He has no qualms about contacting him this late into the night, considering he knows that Namjoon’s wide awake, fretting over his song like a helicopter parent for no reason.

“Hyung,” Namjoon says by way of greeting. “Still up?”

Seokjin’s radiating, the excitement at the possibility of an amazing track having energised him. “I changed my mind, I wanna be in the song. You still want me to do it?”

“Uh, yeah. Of course.” Seokjin can hear his smile, and it’s endearing.

He heaves a sigh of relief. “Great.” There’s silence for a few seconds— or maybe that’s just the sound of Namjoon slowly taking off his thinking cap. Then, “I’m excited about this, Namjoonie. I think it’s gonna be cool.”

“Yeah, me too hyung.”

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“Aw, cute,” Namjoon needles Seokjin the next evening as he walks into the studio purposefully. He’d spent the day with his hairstylist, getting his black hair dyed back into his signature baby pink. It was a trechearous day of painful bleaching and heated arguments with his stylist about cutting his fringe, but the end result was perfect and to complete the look, he’d donned a fuzzy pink sweater. Because he's a fashionista, and he can.

“Shut up, I can see your roots peeking out. You’re due for a touch up soon,” Seokjin reaches up and runs a hand through Namjoon’s silvery locks, and sure enough, there’s a hint of black at the base. “Time to ruin your scalp.”