obsessed

WARNINGS: Stalking, non-con, panty fetish, voyeurism, daddy kink, slut shaming, degradation (I mean serious degradation, these are not soft words at all these are borderline feminist issues), power play, use of the word bitch, lesbian phone sex, masturbation, pillow humping, hidden cameras, sex toys, somnophilia, choking, face-slapping, under – non-negotiated kinks, dom/sub, predator/prey, begging, pain kink, lack of foreplay, lack of aftercare (briefly), penis-in-vagina sex, unprotected sex, free-use kink, breeding kink, dacrophilia, size kink, Namjoon has a big dick (wbk), cuckolding (shiiiiit we getting all these kinks in this fic Jesus!), overstimulation, oral sex (f receiving), fear play, a panic attack, obscene use of the word "cunt" (it's actually my favourite word, I think), manipulation, switch!Reader; forced submission, cock-stepping, ruined orgasm,

This story is kind of dark and also kind of creepy. In real life scenarios, this kind of behaviour is never acceptable but as this is a work of fiction it should be treated as such. I am not glamorising or romanticising stalking or any of the more damaging tags that this fic is associated with. Basically, don't do it. It's creepy and weird. Always make sure kinks are fully negotiated before you put them into practice, and also don't stalk people. That isn't okay. And if you are going through that right now, please know that there are so many resources available to make sure you are safe. But also please take care of yourself. I am also not associating Namjoon with any of these traits in real life. Nor am I assuming his real-life sexuality. I reiterate, this is a work of fiction, nothing more. If you are triggered by any of the above tags, DO NOT read this fic. Your mental health is far more important than a story.

Words mentioned in the fic that aren't featured anywhere except The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, John Koenig (I'm testing the waters here so please bear with me):

Ghough: n. A hollow place in your psyche that can never be filled, a bottomless hunger for more food, more praise, more attention, more joy, more sex, more money, more hours of sunshine; a sense of panic that everything good will be taken from you too early, which makes you swallow the world before it ends up swallowing you. Onomatopoeic to the sound of a devouring maw. Pronounced "hawkh", with air drawn sharply inward through the mouth. ­

He couldn't help that he was so obsessed with you. It was your fault really... you shouldn't be so intoxicating that you'd cause his brain to overload with nothing but thoughts of you. You came into his life like an atom bomb, tearing a hole through his planet to the point where he never thought he would recover. All you did was smile at him and ask him if he wanted a bag to carry his pastries home with. But your smile was so pulchritudinous, so enslaving, your hair messy and disheveled from your hardworking nature, and flour all over your sweet face; he was a goner at the very second. He glanced at your nametag and memorised the spelling with such speed he was barely out of the bakery before he'd begun to search for you on social media. The worst part about it all was the fact that he wanted to know so much more about you but didn't want to concern you. He knew that men had a tendency to come on too strong and that you'd probably be on your guard. He wanted you to be at ease with him, to realise that he was the only one who could keep you happy for the rest of your life. If that meant he had to treat you delicately then so be it. Fragile you were, and careful he'd be. He was in it for the long haul, a true gentleman of the modern era.

All he really wanted to know was your work times. He just wanted to know when he'd come into the store and bump into you. Honestly, he had no intention of searching for anything else, except maybe some of the things that you enjoyed so he could strike up a natural conversation with you. But that was it – scout's honour. He discovered from your social media that you were an avid baker, who loved working at the local bakery not because it was a temporary source of income until something better came along, but because this was the better option for you. Sure, you were paid just above the minimum wage, but this was your lifelong passion, and you prided yourself on putting your happiness first. He also unveiled that you had plans to become a business owner yourself, bringing in your main source of income while just doing your hobby. It was a smart idea really – who wanted a job they hated when they could be paid well for what they loved? You were a smart woman. A true unicorn in a field of horses. He decided there and then that you were his soulmate. And as he sat in the park, scrolling through your social media profile and discovering more about you, he was sure the pastries you baked him were the best he'd ever eaten.