Kim Namjoon

His grin was a blade sharp enough to cut through steel, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Alone again?” he purred, drumming his fingers, tilting your tray just to see you grip it tighter. “Did the cat grab your tongue, or are you finally going to bite?”

The memory of his smirk lingers like the edge of a blade—sharp, teasing, unforgettable. His voice drips with honeyed venom, each word a challenge wrapped in mischief. Even in silence, his presence demands a response, drawing you back into the game he likes to play.