Tags: explicit sexual content, manhandling, size kink, big d joon🤤, fluff!!, and alot of things.
Mdni 18+
The Size Difference. Omg. This is like a whole thing for him too, He's so big – tall, broad, big hands, big thighs, big dick. And he LOVES the contrast with you. Loves picking you up like you weigh nothing, loves how his hand can almost wrap around both your wrists, loves caging you under him and making you feel surrounded. It's not just a physical thing for him; it makes him feel protective and possessive in a way that drives him crazy.
He's not rough, but he's firm. He guides you. Moves you. Positions you. A hand on the back of your neck that's both comforting and controlling. Pulling you into his lap by your hips. Turning you over in bed with one easy motion. It's the effortless strength that's so hot. Like he's so strong he doesn't even have to try.
Hes a hot nerd. Foreplay starts at breakfast. Him telling you about a concept from a book, his eyes lighting up, his hands moving while he talks... you just sit there watching his brain work and get turned on. He'll catch you staring and get this little knowing smile. He knows. And later, he'll whisper something from that same conversation against your skin, making the whole day feel like one long, slow seduction.
His love language is 1000% physical touch, but it's claimed touch. His hand on the small of your back guides you through a crowd. Even when he's just resting a hand on your thigh while he drives, it's heavy and intentional. He needs to be connected to you.
Namjoon loves watching/being watched. He loves to observe you. Loves when u put on a show for him. He'll ask u to touch yourself for him and just watch with this focused, hungry look, like he's studying u. And he loves knowing you're watching him too – the flex of his back when he takes his shirt off, the veins on his arms. He's aware of his own effect and it's hot.
He has the patience of a saint and he uses it for evil (good evil). He'll edge you for what feels like hours, stopping every time you're close, whispering “not yet, baby” in that deep voice. He loves seeing you desperate and begging, loves the power of being the one who gives u permission to finally cum.
He leaves bruises where no one else can see. The inside of your thighs, your hips, the side of your breast. He likes seeing his fingerprints on your skin the next day. He'll kiss over them gently and say “pretty” or “mine,” and it makes you melt and shiver at the same time.
His dirty talk is so good. He doesn't just say generic stuff. It's so specific and it wrecks you. Stuff like, “I can feel you fluttering around me, so perfect,” or “You take every inch so well, like you were made for me,” or even just groaning “Fuck, you're so tight,” when he's balls-deep inside you. It's earnest and graphic and comes from him just stating what he's experiencing and it's SO hot.
And his cock.. is fucking huge, very thick and veiny. Namjoon won’t get his eyes off of the bulge his cock make on your tummy, sliding in and out of your stretched pussy. The wet noises, your desperate whimpers and pathetic pleads, begging him to slow down bcuz his cock is too big and you can’t take it. But hes not stopping, he will make you take it and stretch you to his size.
His pervert mind has fantasies about locations. His big, sturdy desk in his study, covered in his papers and books. The floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room at night (the blinds are closed, but it feels risky). The shower where he can pin you against the cool tiles. The couch where he was just reading peacefully before pulling you into his lap. He thinks about the setting, the ambiance. It's a whole production in his head.
Eye contact is another huge turn on for him. He will hold it while his fingers slide inside you, while he takes you deep, while he comes. It’s overwhelming.
He’ll spread your thighs with his hands, praising the stretch. “Look at that. Open so wide for me. Such a good girl.”
He loves sitting you on his massive thighs while he’s still fully clothed, just grinding you against the hard muscle of his leg until you’re a mess.
He’s obsessed with your collarbones. He’ll trace them with a blunt finger, then kiss along them. Something about their delicacy drives him crazy.
Yes, he manhandles, but he also serves. Washing your hair, massaging your feet, feeding you fruit. It’s all natural to him. He gets off on caring for you until you’re pliant.
He’ll kneel in front of you. To take off your shoes, to put your socks on. But he’ll stay there, his big hands on your calves, looking up at you with soft puppy eyes.
He’ll dress you. Put his own hoodie on you, slowly pull your panties up for you. Like his own pretty doll.
Namjoon’s very good with mixing praise and degradation. It’s all praise but it feels degrading bcuz of how specific and exposing it is:
“You were thinking about this all through dinner, weren’t you? My good, desperate girl.”
“You came just from my fingers? So sensitive for me.”
Hes a clingy sleeper. Big spoon, most of the time. His hand will cup your breast or rest possessively over your pussy in his sleep.
He’ll sometimes wake you up by already being inside you, moving slow and deep. He’ll shush you gently, “Go back to sleep, baby. Let me take care of you.” It’s the ultimate trust exercise for him.
He’ll teach u. About your own body, about sex. “This is your G-spot. Feel it? That’s how I’m going to make you squirt for me, princess.”
He might read smut to u, his deep voice bringing the words to life, his hand working between your legs.
Namjoon genuinely believes that the purest form of love is watching u fall asleep on his chest after a long day, knowing u trust him enough to let ur guard down completely, knowing that he made u feel so good, that he made u cum multiple times until your body is exhausted and satisfied with his touch ㅤ♡.
A/N: i just hit 600 followers 🥹 thank u sm my loves💕 I didn’t expect to be noticed this fast
I carried away with this hc bcuz i do study namjoon alot and i wanted to write everything ik but that would be a long series of a never ending hcs 😭 hope this was to ur expectations and req r still open!!
This is Raegan’s side of the dorm . I am loving this so much 😩. I been taking my time decorating the girl’s side and yes she loves pink lol. I can’t wait to fully get into their college life but for now I can show this off.
the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be a part of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
summary: It’s not like you have any claim over Namjoon, you’re just friends who fuck time to time— so technically, watching him flirt shamelessly on stage shouldn’t make your blood boil. His teasing comments about other girls shouldn’t leave a bitter taste in your mouth. You shouldn’t feel a lot of things about him… but maybe you just need to fuck those ideas and comments right out of his mind.
warning!— purely smut, literally zero plot . this story contains: unprotected sex, oral sex (m!&f! receiving), cowgirl, creampie. she’s a pro rider. switch namjoon!. — reader lowkey toxic, namjoon is down bad.
author’s note: well happy early birthday to me! broke the little hiatus to post this. i wrote this thirty minutes ago, not edited at all. okay bye!! see u next year!!
Jealousy looked ridiculous on other people.
You had always thought that.
Possessive girlfriends checking phones, girls crying in club bathrooms because some mediocre man looked at another woman for too long, couples fighting over things that ultimately meant nothing. You used to watch things like that happen with mild embarrassment, wondering how anyone could let themselves become so consumed by another person that a simple interaction could ruin their entire mood.
And yet there you were.
Standing backstage with a makeup sponge in your hand, trying not to feel irrationally irritated over a joke Namjoon had made less than ten minutes ago. Not even a real joke, barely a conversation.
One of the members had mentioned the sign in the crowd— a clever one with double meaning —and the whole thing had immediately spiraled into teasing because Namjoon’s reaction had apparently already gone viral online before the concert was even over. Someone joked about bringing NDAs back. Namjoon laughed. The conversation moved on.
That should’ve been the end of it. Instead, the thought had been sitting beneath your skin ever since, hot and ugly and impossible to ignore.
Not sadness. God, no. You weren’t sad. If anything, you were annoyed… annoyed that random women thought they could get his attention so easily. Annoyed that he even entertained it for a second. Annoyed because some stupid, deeply narcissistic part of you genuinely believed no one should’ve been able to hold his attention the way you did.
Which was insane considering Namjoon wasn’t yours, never had been.
You two had never even discussed whatever this thing between you actually was. Months ago, one drunken night had turned into another, then another after that, until eventually sleeping together became as natural as breathing. Neither of you asked for more. Neither of you pulled away either. It settled into something dangerously comfortable.
You worked around him constantly, which meant there were too many late nights, too many lingering touches, too many moments where he’d look at you like he knew something about you nobody else did. Somewhere along the way, your body started reacting to him before your brain could catch up. The sound of his laugh from another room. His rings tapping against tables. The lazy way he spread his legs whenever he sat down like he owned whatever space he occupied.
You hated how aware you were of him at all times.
More embarrassing still, Namjoon seemed just as aware of you.
By the time the concert finally ended and the staff cleared out for the ending ment pictures, your irritation had settled into something more serious and meaner which felt almost pathetic. You weren’t some jealous girl in love with a guy she couldn’t have. If anything, Namjoon should be worried about you getting bored of him first.
That thought settled you instantly.
Yes, that sounded better .
You kept yourself busy reorganizing your makeup products while everyone rushed around backstage. The noise slowly died down as people moved elsewhere, voices fading into distant echoes beyond the hallway.
Then the dressing room door opened again.
Namjoon walked in still glowing faintly with post-concert adrenaline, slightly wet hair pushed away from his forehead, his black Arirang shirt making him look softer than he meant to. He shut the door behind him with his foot and exhaled heavily.
“There’s my favorite employee,” he said tiredly.
You snorted softly without looking up. “You say that to every person that wipes your face for a living?”
“Only the mean ones.”
You heard him drop into the sofa in front of the vanity mirror with a groan. The familiar sound of rings clinking against the armrest followed immediately after.
For a second, neither of you said anything. It wasn’t awkward, you and Namjoon had passed awkward months ago. Now everything between you felt strangely domestic in the worst possible way, like you’d known each other too long, like your bodies had memorized each other before either of you realized it was happening.
You walked toward him with a bottle of micellar water and cotton pads, stopping between his spread knees.
His eyes flicked up to yours immediately. There was always that moment. That split second where his attention sharpened completely when you got close enough to touch him. You pretended not to notice it even though secretly it thrilled you every single time.
“Hold still,” you murmured, pressing the cotton pad against his cheek, harder than intended.
“Ow.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“You’re violent tonight.”
“You’re stupid tonight.”
Namjoon watched you for a second through the mirror while you grabbed another cotton pad, lazy but attentive in that way he always was with you. Like even relaxed, part of him is still focused entirely on you.
“You in a bad mood?” he asked.
“No.”
“That was quick.”
“Because it was a stupid question.”
“Mm.”
You move to remove the makeup around his eyes, tilting his chin slightly with your fingers. He let you, always let you.
“You know,” he said after a second, “most makeup artists are nicer to me.”
“Then go flirt with one of them too.”
The words left your mouth so naturally you barely register them. But Namjoon did. And you saw it immediately, that tiny shift in expression, not really surprise but interest.
Namjoon hissed quietly when you pressed the cotton pad against his cheek again, rough. “Jesus. Did I do something to you?”
“Your makeup separated.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
You ignored him, dragging the pad slowly beneath his eye. Up close, you could see the exhaustion settling into his features now that the stage lights were gone. Smudged eyeliner, flushed skin, slightly swollen lips from dehydration.
Pretty. Disgustingly pretty.
You hated that your first instinct around him was always hunger.
“You are staring again,” he said lazily.
“You look rough.”
“Wow.”
“It’s true.”
He laughed softly under his breath, head tilting back slightly while you wiped makeup from his jaw. His hands rested on his sides at first, relaxed, but eventually one drifted absentmindedly toward your thigh. Not grabbing but fingers tracing the back of your skin.
Like he needed some part of his body connected to yours at all times.
You should’ve moved him away. Instead, you let him.
“You were weird earlier,” he said after a moment.
“There were seventy thousand people screaming your name. I think you’d recover from me being weird.”
“Mhm.” His thumb brushed once against your leg. “Still weird though.”
You grabbed another cotton pad. “Maybe I was overwhelmed by your intense celebrity status.”
“There she is.”
“What does that mean?”
“That tone.” His mouth twitched slightly. “The one you got when you were pretending not to be annoyed.”
You rolled your eyes automatically, but the truth was Namjoon noticed you too easily. It was irritating. Sometimes you genuinely thought he studied you the same way people studied languages.. or prey.
“I’m not.”
“Is it about me?.”
“Hell, no.”
“So it is.”
“Your ego has gone insane lately,” you muttered.
“My ego?”
“Yeah, not everything is about you. God, men get attention once and start acting stupid.” You rolled your eyes.
It took him a moment to understand your comment. And you realized it too late.
Namjoon let out a surprised laugh. “That’s what this was about?”
You shrugged casually, focusing on removing the makeup near his neck. “What?.”
“That girl with the sign?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh my god,” he murmured.
“What?”
“You are jealous.”
The word landed between you heavily, not because it was true but because he sounded so pleased realizing it.
You scoffed immediately. “Please.”
“You are.” His smile grew slowly, eyes dragging over your face like he was putting pieces together in real time. “Holy shit.”
“Yes, I’m so jealous of a girl holding cardboard.”
“No?” His fingers tightened slightly against your thigh. “Then why had you been glaring at me for the last hour?”
“I always glared at you.”
“That’s true.”
You hated that he said it fondly.
The room suddenly felt warmer than before.
Namjoon leaned back in the sofa, watching you openly now, completely entertained by himself. By you. By this entire situation. It made something ugly flare inside your chest again. Because the worst part was he genuinely didn’t understand.
Namjoon flirted naturally. Breathed attention naturally. People orbited him constantly and he walked through it without thinking twice. But you knew him better than anyone else in this building did. You knew how different he got when he actually wanted something.
And lately, he’d wanted you constantly.
The late night texts. The unnecessary touching. The way his eyes searched for you first every time he walked into a room.
Sometimes you genuinely thought Namjoon would crawl inside your skin if you let him.
“You are thinking too hard,” he said softly.
You blinked back into the moment. His gaze was steady on you now, a little curious, a little too perceptive, a little dangerous.
Without really thinking, you set the makeup wipe down onto the vanity and stepped closer until you were straddling him, legs on each side of his thighs.
Namjoon’s eyes darkened immediately.
“There,” you murmured quietly. “That look.”
“What look?”
“The one where you think you figured me out.” Your fingers hooked beneath his jaw lightly, forcing his head back enough to keep him looking at you. “You get so cocky.”
His breathing changed almost imperceptibly. “You are the one on top of me now.”
“And you are the one letting me.”
Neither of you moved.
The tension sitting between you felt almost violent now. It wasn’t really romantic or too soft, it was something greedier than that, like the two of you were constantly trying to consume each other without admitting it out loud.
Namjoon’s hands slid higher along your thighs slowly. “You know what your problem is?” he asked quietly.
“What?”
“You think you owned me.”
You smiled slowly. “Wouldn’t you like that?.”
His eyes flicked down to your mouth instantly. That alone nearly drove you insane. There it was again, that overwhelming awareness he had of you, like no matter how many people screamed his name every night, he still looked at you like you were the only thing capable of actually holding his attention.
The thought stroked something deeply possessive inside you.
Good.
He should.
You leaned down until your mouths were barely apart, feeling his grip tighten instinctively against your thighs.
“Tell me something honestly,” you murmured against his lips. “Have any of those girls ever made you look at them twice?”
Namjoon went still.
Then his eyes lifted slowly back to yours. “No,” he said quietly.
The answer came too fast to be fake. Satisfaction curled warmly through your stomach. Your thumb dragged once across his lower lip before you finally smiled against his mouth.
“Thought so.”
And then you kissed him. And Namjoon kissed you back instantly.
Of course he did.
One of his hands slid up your thigh hard enough to leave warmth behind while the other moved to your waist, pulling you closer until your hips pressed against him. The angle felt really intimate, close enough that you could feel him growing beneath you.
You kissed him harder, possessively, like you wanted to prove him seomthing— something you didn’t know what yet. Maybe you did.
His mouth opened against yours with a quiet sound that nearly made something snap inside your chest. You hated how reactive he was with you sometimes. Hated how quickly his composure disappeared the second you touched him a certain way.
No one else got this version of him. The thought alone made your stomach tighten pleasantly.
Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging just enough to force his head back slightly. Namjoon exhaled sharply against your mouth, grip tightening on your waist immediately.
“There you are,” he murmured breathlessly, lips brushing yours again. “Didn’t know what reaction would get of you tonight.”
You laughed softly against his mouth. “You say that like this wasn’t your fault.”
“My fault?” His eyes opened briefly, dark and lazy beneath half-smeared eyeliner. “You were the one looking at me like you wanted to kill somebody.”
“Maybe I did.”
“Mhm.” His thumb dragged slowly against your hip beneath your clothes. “Violent and jealous. I never got this combination out of you.”
You kissed him again before he could keep talking. Mostly because you hated how smug he sounded, and mostly because you loved it too.
The kiss turned rough quickly after that, all teeth and heat and too much wanting crammed into one small dressing room backstage. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew someone could walk in eventually, but the possibility only made your pulse spike harder.
Namjoon’s hands wandered greedily over your body like he’d been thinking about touching you all night. Maybe he had been. You knew him well enough by now to recognize the signs— the slight loss of control, the way his breathing changed whenever he got too fixated on you.
Obsessive.
That’s what this thing between you two really was. Not love, not casual either, something ugly and tabu.
You pulled back just enough to look at him, fingers still tangled in his hair. His lips were swollen now, makeup almost completely ruined beneath your hands.
Pretty.
You liked him prettiest when he looked wrecked.
Namjoon watched you carefully from beneath heavy eyes, hands resting possessively on your thighs now like he expected you to stay exactly where you were.
“What?,” he muttered.
“You look better like this.”
“Like what?”
“Messed up.”
A slow smile pulled at his mouth. “You’re kind of sick, you know that?”
You leaned down again until your lips brushed the corner of his jaw. “You like that about me too.”
His grip tightened instinctively.
God.
The worst part was how perfectly you fit together in moments like this. Like every ugly possessive instinct inside both of you found relief whenever the other gave in first.
You kissed down his jaw slowly, feeling the way his body reacted underneath you immediately. The sound he made was quieter this time, almost swallowed by the room itself. Satisfied warmth spread through your chest. Good. He should react to you like this.
Your hands slid down from his shoulders, over his chest, lower until your fingers hooked briefly against the waistband of his pants. The movement made Namjoon’s head tilt back against the chair slightly, eyes fixed on you the entire time now. Not teasing anymore, focused, hungry.
“You’re acting jealous.”
You smiled against his throat. “And what?.”
His hand slid up your back slowly. “You really couldn’t stand it?”
“The idea of you entertaining random girls?” You pulled back just enough to look at him again, fingers toying lazily with the button of his pants. “Please.”
Namjoon watched your hands carefully, then your face, like he was trying to figure out which one he wanted more.
“You’re possessive,” he murmured.
You hummed lightly. “Don’t you like it?.”
Something dark flickered across his expression at that, not discomfort but more like enjoyment. He liked you like that. Because Namjoon was exactly the same for you.
“I do,” he simply said. “I like everything you do.”
You couldn’t stand him.
Your hand immediately unbuckle his pants, slowly putting them down. Your eyes still fixed on his face. Namjoon’s eyes were dark. He was losing it too.
“Touch yourself for me,” you whispered to him.
Namjoon could come from your voice only.
You kissed his neck slowly, moving away until you were finally kneeling between his legs. You looked up as he started pumping himself over his clothes, getting harder at the sight of you. He groaned breathily, eyes getting lazier and hand moving a little harder. You could see the wet spot just right where his linen tip was, hitting his underwear so softly it made it look delicious.
You moved your hands to his thighs, slowly creasing them until you reached to his underwear. He threw his head back when your fingers touched his clothed cock, teasing him slightly with the tip of your fingers, rubbing them up and down to feel it in your hand. He tried not to moan when your hand finally wrapped around it, and pulled it down. Namjoon looked delicious. His cocked jumped out hitting his long shirt. His cock was big, veiny and looked so pretty. You couldn’t wait to put it in your mouth, missing it after days of not touching each other.
Your hand moved the base of his cock, squeezing it slightly. His veins bulged under the skin, thick and ridged, pulsing when you gave another tentative squeeze. One fat vein snaked right along the underside, throbbing harder every time your thumb brushed over it.
“Shit— that feels good.” his hips jerked into your hand involuntarily, and he threw his head back, breathing ragged. “S-sorry. You’re doing s’good.”
He was hard as a rock and his tip was shinny with pre cum and red, begging to be taken care of.
You stuck out your tongue, slowly licking from the base to the head of his cock. His back arched slightly, head thrown back as he gripped the sofa. “Look at me,” you demanded. And he did. “I want you to look at me while I make you feel good.” Your lips kissed his mushroom tip. “I want you to remember who makes you feel this good.”
He was going to cum so fast.
Your lips wrapped around his tip before sucking it in. Namjoon tried not to throw back his head back to the sofa, mind getting dizzy. You started sucking his cock so slow and hard that he felt like it was the first time he was receiving a blowjob. You could see the satisfaction in his eyes, in a way he liked you like that, possessive, sick to prove a point.
Namjoon was losing his mind. Mouth opened, his fingers sinking into your hair to push you closer to his cock, trying to take some control over the situation. His cock popped past your lips with a wet sound, thick and hot on your tongue. You tasted skin and salt and him, his veins dragging along the flat of your tongue as he pushed deeper, inch by inch disappearing into the wet heat of your mouth.
Your tongue circled his cock tightly before sucking again, he gritted his teeth hard at the sensation. Your right hand squeezed the beginning of his cock, moving it up and down as you sucked his tip with determination.
Namjoon felt so close.
No. Wait.
There wasn’t too many things that bothered Namjoon’s mind. Lately, the list had reduced to just two. The first one was you, you and the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about whatever was going on between you two— the second one he couldn’t remember right now.
Namjoon knew he was fucked. The moment you got drunk one night months ago and you finally let him touch you the way he had dreamed for months. It was game over for him. But he knew there was something between you two that couldn’t be tamed in the moment. There was a missing commitment that he knew you two weren’t able to get in that time. Still, it bothered him that maybe you could be seeing other people.
He could too, but he didn’t want to.
He only wanted you. He only wanted to make you feel good. He only wanted to touch you. He only wanted to talk to you.
Only you.
There was no one else in his mind except you. And in that moment, specially in that moment, there was absolutely no other thought that making you feel good, making you feel like you actually belonged to someone, him. He liked you like that, crazy in your feeling, not knowing why you were acting like that. So possessive over someone you didn’t know you wanted.
Namjoon was a patient man. He could wait for you to find out.
But he wasn’t so patient about other things.
“Umm— wait, wait.” He pulled you from your hair. Looking at you kneeling in front of him. Mouth swollen, lips red, a line of saliva connecting you to his hard cock. “I’ll cum inside you— I wanna make you feel good first.”
“But—”
“Stand up,” he demanded you. “I said I wanna make you feel good first.”
Namjoon didn’t give you too much time to think, pulling you from your arms and pushing you to the counter in front of the mirror. He took a seat on the chair. His hands moved your skirt to your hips and he quickly made you sit in the cold wood, opening your legs to see what he most desired. He put himself between your legs, panties already soaked. Even as your chest rose and fell, you held yourself up, letting him put your feet on the edge of the desk and spread your legs apart completely.
His rough palm caressed your thighs before he started biting them, plump lips marking your skin.
“Joon—”
“Yes. Now moan my name, baby. Gonna touch what is mine.” He said, eyes dark as he looked at your panties and your cute wet mound sticking to the material. His thumb stroking your inner thigh. “Already soaked, you’re always this ready for me, huh.”
“Yes, always ready for you.” You nodded, already fucked up by his touch.
“Good. Now you know who owns you.”
He easily hooked a finger and slid your panties to the side, leaning down, tongue sticking out as he licked a wet strip up your sweet cunt.
“F-fuck!—”
And before you could even properly moan he was wrapping his arms around your thighs, shoving his face even deeper making you jolt and whimper loudly.
He wasn’t soft and didn’t go slow. Namjoon was hungry. Intoxicated of you.
His hands went to the back of your thighs to hold you in place and he went straight to suck your clit. You threw your head back and moaned. His tongue flattened to moved it around your clit, trying to stimulate you more. He was going crazier than before, hungrier, hornier. His teeth trying to grabbed your clit and making you moan louder at the sensation.
His lips started kissing your pussy before licking your entrance with desperation, his tongue tried to reach your insides while his nose moved around your clit. He kept doing that for a couple of minutes. He couldn’t see you anymore, only being able to hear you while he was making out with your pussy. He was making a mess with his face, trying to drink all your juices and making you feel good.
He went back to your clit, sucking with more vigor now, wanting more every time. Your fingers buried in his hair, slightly pulling off them before pressing his head harder to your core. Looking for more friction. He moaned at your desperation, looking to come undone. He could swear he was about to come untouched.
“Mhmm, s’good— Baby I’m gonna—”
He suddenly stopped, making you whine.
It took everything in him not to go back to finish his job. But he wanted you to come undone in his cock. He knew how he wanted to wrecked you.
Namjoon didn’t even clean his mouth to kiss you, lips moving hungrily over yours before taking a seat back to the sofa. Legs spread wide, jeans down to his the middle of his thighs and cock looking red and hard pointing at the ceiling. He looked so good like that, waiting for you to take what was yours.
He patted his thighs. “Come on now. Take whatever you want, baby.”
In less than a second you were straddling him again, kissing him messily to prove him you were going to do exactly what he said do. You were going to take whatever you want, whatever that was yours.
“I want you.”
With your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you bucked your hips up, eyes locked on the way his length gleamed with his pre-cum, drooling from his tip so yummy. It was all so lewd, and he wasn’t even inside you yet. Your hips moved slightly upward. You grabbed his cock with one hand so you could line it up at your entrance. Your other hand pressed down hard on his abs, throwing your head back as you slowly lowered down to take him.
“I said take it. Take it like you mean it,” Namjoon didn’t let you take it slow. He moved his hips upward with strength so you could take him the way he wanted you too. Hard and mean. “Take it like it’s yours— Uhm, y-yes, yes. Like that— uhmm.”
You whimpered when he filled you up. Feeling every vain, every inch of him inside you. His fat tip touching your favorite spot.
Slowly, you lifted your hips, then bring them back down again, trying to find a good pace. His jaw clenched a little and he pinched at your waist, and then his own hips bucked up against yours so you did the same thing again until you found a steady pace and before long, you were bouncing up and down on his cock.
You started to ride him. Moving slowly up and down at the beginning so you could get use to his length. It always felt like the first time you two fucked. It felt so good, stretching you completely. His big fat cock, you could feel every vein and twitch inside you. His warm, it felt so good wrapped around you
“It’s mine,” you said. Fucked up already. Too drunk of him, too honest. “You’re m-mine.”
He looked at you, eyes already too gone. He looked mean, like a dragon. “Then do a better job. Ride me good.” He slapped your thighs
You whined at his mean words before starting to fuck him faster and moving your hips better.
The sounds were obscene. His cock plunging into your wetness with each bounce of your knees, the sofa moving dramatically against the floor. Your clit hitting the lower part of his stomach in such a right way. You could feel your juices dripping on him making an even bigger mess.
You didn’t care. You didn’t care if people were waiting for him or how much time it would take to clean off all the mess. You just cared about showing him he could t find anyone better. No one could make him feel better than you, no one could do a better job than you.
“Come on, baby.” He slapped your ass. “Gonna make me do all the hard work?”
“Shut— shut up.”
“Lazy girl, making me do everything.” He wrapped his left arm around your waist and with his right fingers he began to rub your clit, with intention. You moaned into his mouth and he took the opportunity to insert his tongue into your mouth, licking every part of you. Tasting every inch of you. He was the one leading, as always.
“No, no—”
“Uhmm, you feel good.” He bit down your jaw until he reached for your neck, leaving bruises with his lips. “S’kay, lemme take care of you now, okay?.”
He started fucking you, moving his hips upward faster and meaner. His dirty fingers left your clit and grabbed your hair to kiss you again. You moaned in his mouth, his lips eating you with lust and hunger. His arm around your waist grabbed you in a possessive way, tighter, leaving bruises, pushing you down every time his hips went upward to slammed into yours. The sounds were almost pornographic, it felt too good, too much.
Namjoon kissed your mouth again before his fingers buried themselves in your hair and he pull it hard, making you throw your head back. He started kissing and biting your jaw and neck, leaving more marks on your skin.
You were his. Only his.
You moaned loud when he hit the right spot inside you, not caring if anyone outside could hear you. You hoped they will. That way they’ll know you were the one to get him see like that, you were the only one he get to touch and kiss like that.
He was being so good to you, hitting the right places, making you break apart. Your knees began to slip slightly, your thighs burning, no longer having almost any strength to keep going. You pulled his hair and started kissing his neck too, you wanted to leave marks too, even if you shouldn’t. Even if you really shouldn’t. He knew you shouldn’t. It was wrong, it was dangerous— But fuck it made it more hot.
It made him go insane the fact the you wanted to mark him as yours too.
He was. He was yours. He so badly wanted to be.
Namjoon moved his hand on your hair to grabbed your neck. His fingers pressing hard around the lower part of your neck, his cold rings against your sweaty skin. You opened your mouth to complain but his gripped hardened around you, becoming almost difficult to breathe correctly.
“Say it— say it.” His lips ghosted yours but he didn’t kiss you, just teasing you. “Say ya’ mine. Moan my name— shit, s’ good— moan my name and say you’re mine.” You whined and he smirked slightly before slamming his hips harder onto yours, fucking you faster, meaner. “Say it for me, baby. S-shit, you’re takin’ me s’good — Say you’re mine, p-please…”
You squeezed him so good he was losing it. His mouth found yours again. He could feel your warm and wetness swallowing his cock. He feel every inch of you wrapped around him. It was so good. It was perfect. You were perfect.
You cried out. “I’m yours.”
Namjoon felt your walls squeezing him harder. He moaned in your neck, you were sucking him so hard it was too much. He rubbed your clit desperately, helping you find your release. It didn’t take you too long to do so. Your high hit you like a truck, your nails scrapped his shoulder, your mouth parting to moan loudly. You closed your eyes, walls closing so hard and your juices coating his cock. Your vision went blurry, your breathing uneven. Your thighs burning like hell. You broke apart in his arms.
“I’m yours too.”
Namjoon’s cock twitched inside you with one last thrust. His eyes rolled back, his hands gripping your skin as he heard your whimper. That hit his final straw. His forehead hit your shoulder as he felt succumbing to the sweet release. He came undone, ropes and ropes of hot cum filling up your sloppy cunt and spurting down onto your thighs.
It felt so good. Having you in his arms, making a mess of you. You making a mess of him.
It took you both a couple of seconds to come back to reality. The high of that sensational high still feeling in the air.
You moved slightly away just enough to be able to rest your forehead in his shoulder. Namjoon pushed you slightly closer, still inside you. His hand rubbing your back sweetly.
“You know,” he said softly, voice a little rough and tired, “this is a crazy reaction to a cardboard sign.”
You snorted, feeling insanely embarrassed.
But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter anymore what label you and Namjoon had. You knew he was yours anyway.
you know exactly what inspired this….. okay bye!! hiatus back on!!
My Simcomic coming soon! I’m excited and nervous because this is my first time doing anything like this. Let’s see how everything starts to unravel for my sims.
xvii.do the stars gaze back at us? - the moon knows.
⠀⠀first-time!namjoon, there, in that room.
FIRST-TIME!NAMJOON who wanted to write your story on your body. Namjoon was a complete artist, versatile in his art, focused on his inspirations. with his lips, Namjoon could recite the most tender melodies that covered your skin in a light layer of desire; with his fingers, Namjoon engraved the most passionate stories that bound your soul in a tight embrace of love. with all his calmness, with all his passion, Namjoon could quickly cover every corner of your body with all the promises and desires you exchanged, leaving nothing unsaid, leaving nothing unmarked – there, in that room far from the world, only your love was read by the two of you.
FIRST-TIME!NAMJOON who was devoted to you with all his existence. you were like an addition to Namjoon. he couldn't explain it, but from early on, Namjoon became attached to you, melting his entire core to fit inside your crystal heart. in an instant, Namjoon became a part of you, of your very essence, not existing without you by his side. everything he was, was yours; everything you were, were his. total surrender from both sides made your love boil with the enthusiasm of new opportunities and stories. Namjoon thought he already knew you, that he knew everything about you and who you were; but there, in that room next to you, Namjoon realized there was still so much more to discover, so much more to love.
FIRST-TIME!NAMJOON who would kill all your words. in a short time, all your speech had become mute, forcing you to communicate with small smiles, graceful sighs, hungry moans. a noisy silence enveloped your bodies in a dance of passion that was new to both of you. but it didn't matter. in that moment, where the past was forgotten and only the present mattered, you could feel your words dying in your mouth, escaping your lips with small sighs that made Namjoon believe that everything was alright, you were alright. there, in that room mute of shame, you let Namjoon maneuver all the words that resided within you and vibrated within him.
FIRST-TIME!NAMJOON who had masterpieces in his fingers. Namjoon's hands traced every curve of your body, leaving an invisible trail of passion that extended to the tips of his fingers. in the darkness of the room, away from prying eyes, Namjoon drew inspiration from your feelings, his hands touching your very essence, searching for all your secrets. Namjoon couldn't think of anything else – for him, at that moment, only you existed and only you were worthy of all his love, all his devotion, all his passion. letting his feelings reveal themselves in his fingers, painting beautiful pictures of your existence and his love with your ink. there, in that room where you rested, Namjoon used his fingers as brushes to show how much he loved you.
FIRST-TIME!NAMJOON who already knew you from another life. the way he touched you, always with the precision of a lover of decades; the way he kissed you, always with the passion of a creator; the way he loved you, always with the devotion of a believer. in this life, in this instant, Namjoon made a point of caressing all your anxiety, sending shocks of tranquility throughout your body, making you want to relax under his touch. there, in that room, in small gestures, quick kisses and deep movements, Namjoon showed you how well he knew you – as if he had already touched you in another life, as if he had already loved you in another existence.
FIRST-TIME!NAMJOON who found you particularly beautiful when you said his name. your voice was Namjoon's favorite sound, and it was in it that he reveled in moments of ecstasy. in the euphoria of the moment, when you two danced the choreography of your love, Namjoon gained a new passion that stemmed from you. his name was something banal, a word you repeated so many times; but there, in that room of hope, his name took on a new tone when whispered by you. as if you were a sorceress of words, your voice managed to transport Namjoon to another reality, a reality where only you, his name, and your passion existed.
FIRST-TIME!NAMJOON who sees in your performance the beginning of a new world. ‘tell me how it’s possible to fall even more in love with you,’ Namjoon’s voice came out hoarse, a little tired from all your dancing, a little relaxed from all your sin. ‘tell me, my love, how is it possible that there’s still so much of you that i don’t know. tell me, and be honest with me — tell me what salvation i made in another life to be destined for you in this one. my love, my darling, my everything. how lucky i am to live this life with you by my side.’
he’s been slouched in your flat for over an hour now, rapidly texting what appears to be namjoon; you didnt look long enough to read- it wasn’t in your nature to look at your boyfriends phone over his shoulder.
He has earbuds in, so you dont want to startle him or break his focus… but he looks sore curled up like that against the couch arm, legs pulled in.
You approach him, rubbing his shoulders at first. He flinches initially before realizing its you, glancing over his shoulder with a neutral expression. Yoongi leans into your touch appreciatively, his mind still on work. He takes one earbud out.
“New comeback song?” You ask him. He makes a humming noise.
“Not finished.” He responds. “Part of one.. Namjoon wanted feedback. Im not sure what it’s missing.
You squeeze a particularly tense part of his traps and he screws his eyes shut, sighing through his nose. “Im sore,” he complains dryly.
“Yeah? Well, you get so focused…” you point out. “You forget to move.”
He stretches then, losing focus on what he was meant to be critiquing. “Do you want to hear it?” He motions you over and you climb up onto the couch with him. He holds one arm out so you can rest on him.
He offers you one of the earbuds and you take it. It was exciting to hear a snippit of a song that may or may not make the album in a few months.
“He’s worried the sample is too much.” Yoongi establishes, one hand idly drumming with his fingers. “Hoseok likes it, but I’m not sure…”
“Are you kidding?” You’re surprised he doesn’t like it. “I think it sounds great. Is that the title track?”
“Don’t know.” He shrugs, tilting his head. “It’s not that the sample is bad, it’s just not mixed how I would’ve done it.”
“Quieter?” You ask. “So you can actually hear the vocalists,”
“Yeah,” he agrees, idly pressing a kiss to your temple now that you were so close. “.. that might help….”
“We have so many ideas and the company keeps getting in the way,” he complains. “Makes me worry fans won’t like it.”
You frown a little. “They’ll like it. When have they ever disliked something?”
“Do you want me to name some?” He questions. You shake your head.
Feeling somewhat bad for Yoongi, you snuggle closer. “Why don’t you take a break? Just for a couple minutes?”
Staring at the ceiling, Yoongi takes an exhausted breath. “I guess…”
You move everything to the side. His phone, his little midi controller, his laptop… a tangle of wires connecting everything together.
“Have you started learning any choreography again?” You ask, mostly to tease. You know he hates dancing. Or at least he claims to.
“Dont remind me,” he mumbles into your shoulder, body half laying on top of yours. One of your legs is tangled in his.
“I hope they have you in the middle, like….” You pause. “Like the seesaw choreography.”
“No.” He grumbles. “That was one time.”
“Or for Like That….” You recall.
“That wasnt my choice.” He retorts.
“You did such a good job,” you praise, threading your fingers through his dark hair. He makes a noise you swear sounds like a cat.
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