김남준 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw | idol!namjoon • domestic boyfriend!namjoon • fluff • comfort • clingy joon • long distance during tours • lots of physical affection • late night calls • lowercase intended
┈ [ ✉️ ] Hi angels !! domestic boyfriend!joonie was requested by @gottafightwhentheysaybehave !! Your wish is my command my love !! Namjoon has actually been like doing things to me lately - all these clips of him in a tanktop and sweating has me... feeling things. But any-whom !! I hope you all like and enjoy this !! Happy reading !!
before tour boyfriend!namjoon :(
— gets thoughtful before tours instead of emotional about it. suddenly he’s spending more time beside you in comfortable silence, like he’s trying to soak in the feeling of home before leaving again
— leaves little reminders of himself around the apartment without realizing it. books stacked beside the bed. hoodies over chairs. half-finished notes in his handwriting tucked into random places :(
— the type to stand in the kitchen late at night talking to you about absolutely everything before he leaves. music, life, fears, dumb observations, future plans. conversations with him always somehow feel endless
— buys you books before tour starts because “you’ll think of me when you read this part”
— definitely writes things in the margins too :( underlined sentences that reminded him of you or tiny “this is us” notes beside paragraphs
— starts sleeping closer to you before leaving. one arm heavy across your waist while he reads until he falls asleep halfway through the page
— acts composed the morning he leaves but keeps pausing before walking out the door like his body physically doesn’t want to go yet
during tour boyfriend!namjoon :(
— sends you long paragraphs at random hours because something reminded him of you and suddenly he has a lot to say
— the type to send pictures of ordinary things instead of glamorous tour stuff. a museum he visited. rainy sidewalks. coffee cups. trees he passed during walks :(
— facetimes you while sitting on hotel floors surrounded by his open laptop, unfinished lyrics, and clothes he still hasn’t unpacked properly
— likes hearing about your day in detail. not just “it was good.” he wants the small parts too. what you ate. what annoyed you. what made you laugh
— sometimes goes quiet after concerts because the adrenaline crash makes him miss home harder than usual
— admits he misses sleeping beside you more than he expected :( says hotel rooms always feel too cold and unfamiliar no matter how nice they are
— sends voice notes while walking alone at night coming from the gym after schedules. low sleepy voice mixed with city sounds in the background
— keeps one of your sweaters draped over hotel chairs during tours because it makes unfamiliar rooms feel a little softer somehow
— when he can’t sleep he rereads old conversations between you two instead of texting because he knows you’re probably asleep
after tour boyfriend!namjoon :)
— coming home with him feels grounding :) like the entire apartment relaxes the second he walks back into it
— stands in the doorway for a second after getting home just looking around quietly before smiling to himself like “okay. i’m back”
— absolutely the type to pull you into the kitchen while he makes coffee in the morning just so he can stand there talking to you sleepily while sunlight comes through the windows
— domestic routines become sacred to him after tour :) museum dates. grocery shopping together. sitting on opposite ends of the couch reading while your feet touch
— gets soft seeing all your little habits again. the way you organize things. the mugs you always use. hearing you moving around in the mornings
— spends the first few nights back tangled up beside you talking until late because there’s too much he wanted to tell you in person
— honestly looks happiest doing the most boring things with you :) game nights, watering plants together, sitting quietly while music plays from the tv in the apartment
— after tour he loves you in an even steadier way. calmer. deeper. like every time he comes home to you he remembers what parts of life actually matter most
Perm taglist : @kimmynammy @celliez @alphabetically-deranged @m4aimm @raceme2hell @bo-rimmy @mustanggbabyy @divakoo (comment or ask to be added)
ꨄ︎ :someone likes to get their nipples played with and it’s not you.
Who would’ve thought your big bulky husband enjoyed to get his nipples played with. The first time it happened his cheeks were burning red with embarrassment. Looking down at the mess he made, cum decorates his toned abs “I-I’m sorry” he watched the smirk on your face as you licked his cum off your fingers. “It’s normal baby” you press a sweet kiss on his cheek, what a pleasant surprise.
You silently watch your husband adjust his glasses nervously. Namjoon can’t help but blush, thinking back on that night. Reminiscing the way his stomach tightened when you first kissed his navel, slowly moving up. He rubbed his neck, feeling the way you kissed up his neck, teasing him about how quick he was about to cum. His heart races, feeling the sudden rush of heat travel down his body. Down to his cock.
Your eyes drop down to his hand, covering the bulge forming in his denim jeans. He doesn’t notice you creeping close to him until your fingers touch his hair. “What’s going through your head, husband” he listened to your teasing tone as your lips ghost against his ear “thinking about last night?”.
“yes” you smile, watching your hands slowly unbutton his shirt. Namjoon pulls you on his lap as he pulled you in for a kiss, his hand wrapped around your neck taking control of the kiss. Pushing his tongue in your mouth as your hand slides in his jeans cupping his hard cock. He moans against the kiss as you suck on his tongue so sweetly, making him lightheaded.
Fingers swiftly working on releasing his pleading cock as you pull back from the kiss. A string of saliva connects your mouth “tell me how bad you want it”. You watch as a whine slips past his plump lips as you spit on his cock, “fuck, I need you please” you hum as you give his cock a slow pump.
“I need your lips on me again, ~please” namjoon watched the smirk spread across your pretty face. You’re enjoying this, he knows, he can see it in your eyes. “Now that wasn’t too hard” his fingers find its way in your hair, guiding your head down to his chest. He lets a frustrated groan as your tongue teased his bud, “patience my sweet husband” your hand tightened around his cock making him yelp.
Eyes blown with lust stare down at your lips wrap around his nipple, giving it a nice suck as his cum spill down your hand -making a mess on his jeans. “j-just like that” you falter your eyes up at him as you smirk against his bud. Tongue drawing figures against his sensitive nipple, fuck you’ll be the death of him.
warnings/tags — 18+, explicit smut,emotional and possessive love and intimacy, oral sex (f. receiving), making out,penetrative sex, unprotected sex,rough and slow paced sex,
"What are you doing up so late?" Namjoon murmured, peering into the softly lit bathroom. The scent of lavender filled the air, mingling with the faint sound of running water.
"Couldn't sleep," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. I was perched on the edge of the tub, my feet dangling in the warm water. "Thought I'd try to unwind."
He stepped closer, his silhouette cast by the flickering candlelight. "Want some company?"
I hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah," I said, a hint of a smile playing on my lips. "That'd be nice."
Namjoon slipped off his shirt, revealing his taut, muscular chest. He kicked off his shoes and socks, then unbuckled his belt. I couldn't help but watch as he undressed, the anticipation building in my chest. He slid into the water behind me, the heat of his body enveloping me as he wrapped his arms around my waist. His breath was warm against my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
The water was just the right temperature, a perfect balance between soothing warmth and a gentle sting that seemed to wash away the day's tension. He reached for the soap, lathering it between his hands before starting to wash my back, his touch feather-light yet firm.
As he massaged my shoulders, his fingers danced along my skin, releasing knots of stress that had built up over the day. His hands moved lower, tracing the curves of my body. A sigh of contentment escaped my lips.
"You're so tense," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Let me help you relax."
I leaned back into him, my body fitting perfectly against his. His chest was a wall of warmth, and his arms felt like a secure blanket around me. The sound of the water was a gentle lullaby, the bubbles caressing my skin like a soft embrace.
Namjoon's hands moved to my stomach, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns that had me squirming with pleasure. He kissed the side of my neck, his lips lingering on my skin. His touch was electric, sending sparks through me.
I turned to face him, my eyes searching his in the candlelit gloom. His gaze was intense, filled with a hunger that mirrored my own. Without a word, we both knew what was going to happen next.
He leaned in, capturing my mouth in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. Our tongues danced together as our bodies aligned in the water. His hands roamed my body, exploring every inch as if he was memorizing the map of me.
The kiss grew deeper, and I could feel his arousal pressing against me. He broke away, a soft groan escaping his lips as he took a deep breath. "I need you," he said, his voice thick with desire.
The air was charged with a palpable tension as we moved closer. Our bodies slid against each other in the slick tub, the water acting as a barrier that only heightened the sensation.
Namjoon reached between my legs, his hand cupping me gently. A soft moan left my mouth, and he took it as an invitation. He began to stroke me, his movements slow and deliberate.
The water was up to my chin, the bubbles tickling my nose as I arched into his touch. His other hand found my breast, his thumb brushing over the peak in a teasing caress.
My breath grew ragged as the sensations grew stronger. I grabbed his wrist, urging him faster, my hips moving in time with his strokes.
The water sloshed around us as we grew more fervent, the candlelight flickering on our damp faces. The steam from the tub was making the room feel like a sauna, but I was too lost in the moment to care.
Namjoon pulled back, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation. I met his gaze and nodded, my own desire reflected back at me. He reached for the soap again, lathering it over my chest before sliding his hand down my stomach.
My breath hitched as his hand wrapped around him, stroking him with the same rhythm he had used on me. His eyes never left mine, the intensity of his gaze setting my body alight. The water was our playground, a slippery dance floor for our passionate embrace.
He positioned himself between my thighs, the tip of him teasing my entrance. I bit my bottom lip, my eyes fluttering closed as I felt him push inside. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious mix of pressure and pleasure that had me gasping for air.
Our movements were slow at first, savoring the feeling of being connected in such an intimate way. The water sloshed around us in time with our gentle rocking, creating a symphony of wet sounds that filled the quiet room.
As he moved deeper, I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him closer. His hands held onto my hips, guiding our rhythm as we grew more and more lost in the moment. The heat between us was unbearable, our bodies moving as one.
The tension grew, each stroke bringing me closer to the edge. His kisses grew more urgent, his breath hot against my skin. My nails dug into his shoulders, leaving half-moons of pleasure-pain as I held onto him tightly.
Namjoon's grip tightened on my hips, his movements growing stronger and more deliberate. I could feel him getting closer, his breaths coming in ragged pants. He whispered sweet nothings in my ear, words of love and desire that sent me spiraling.
My orgasm hit me like a wave, crashing over me and leaving me trembling in its wake. He followed closely behind, his own release filling the air with a primal groan. We stayed like that, tangled in each other's arms, the water lapping against our skin.
The candle flickered, casting shadows across our satisfied faces. Our hearts pounded in unison, the only sound in the now still room. This moment was perfect, a stolen slice of heaven in our chaotic lives.
Namjoon's arms tightened around me, holding me close as we both floated in the aftermath of our passion. His kisses moved from my neck to my collarbone, each one a promise of more to come. I could feel him still inside me, the reminder of our intimacy making me quiver.
"I love you," he murmured against my skin, the words sending a shiver down my spine.
"I love you too," I breathed, my eyes closed.
We remained like that for what felt like an eternity, the warmth of the water and his embrace a comfort I never wanted to leave. But as the water grew cooler, reality began to seep back in.
Slowly, we disentangled ourselves, standing in the tub and rinsing off the remnants of soap and passion. The water drained with a gurgle, leaving us in the quiet of the empty tub. He stepped out first, offering me a hand to help me out.
Wrapped in a soft towel, I watched as he dried himself off, his muscles rippling with each movement. The sight of him, so strong and beautiful, made me want to drag him back into the bedroom and start all over again. But we both knew that wasn't possible, not with the dawn approaching.
We exchanged smiles, the kind that spoke of secrets and unspoken desires. He took my hand and led me back to the bed, where the scent of our lovemaking still lingered in the air.
We curled up under the covers, our bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces that had finally found their home. His arm was a heavy weight across my chest, his breathing even and steady as sleep claimed him. I laid there, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against my back.
The warmth of his body seeped into mine, and I felt a peace I hadn't known in a long time. His hand found my own under the blanket, and our fingers laced together. In the quiet of the night, surrounded by the glow of the candles and the lingering scent of lavender, I knew that this was a moment I would cherish forever.
As sleep pulled me under, I felt safe, loved, and whole in a way that only he could make me feel. Tomorrow would bring challenges, but tonight, we had each other, and that was enough.
The story of Namjoon and y/n's steamy bathtub encounter continues with the warmth of their bodies and hearts intertwined, the candles casting a soft glow on their entangled forms. The intimacy of the moment lingers, hinting at the deep connection that goes beyond physical pleasure. As the night progresses, their bond strengthens, providing a brief escape from the chaos of the world outside their door. The next day may bring its share of troubles, but in the sanctity of their shared embrace, they have found a haven that no storm can touch.
.°୭ you were looking for a fresh start away from the relentless blur of seoul; however, the quiet avenues of ilsan held a tempting distraction you didn’t anticipate; "you look beautiful in this light... i haven't been able to focus since you walked in." — the heavy tension of an unexpected encounter forces you to lean into the commanding presence of a bookstore owner who knows exactly how to get what he wants; r.m.
°⊹- pairings: bookstore owner!namjoon x reader (F)
°⊹- tags + warnings: slow burn to immediate heat, heavy smut, dominant!namjoon, baddie-minimalist aesthetic, short blonde buzzcut, office setting, praise, rough/tender balance, explicit content.
°⊹- notes: namjoon exists in a world of vintage leather and low, thumping r&b. he smells like expensive cedarwood, clean linen, and rich coffee. he acts like a polite intellectual until the door clicks locked. enjoy the Rkive.
☾ ˚ ₊ ˚ ⊹ ₊ ˚ ⊹ * ˚ ₊ ☾
The late afternoon sun in Ilsan is softer than you expected, casting a warm, honey-colored glow over the quiet neighborhood streets. Holding an iced latte in one hand, you take your time adjusting to the slower pace of your new home. Moving here was supposed to be a fresh start, a break from the relentless, high-speed blur of Seoul. So far, the quiet avenues and tree-lined sidewalks are delivering exactly what you needed.
As you round a particularly peaceful corner, the faint, comforting scent of roasted coffee beans and aged paper drifts through the air. You look up, your eyes catching a charming storefront. The exterior is a deep, muted charcoal, framed by large glass windows that show floor-to-ceiling wooden bookshelves packed tightly with literature. Above the door, a sleek, minimalist sign reads: The Archive.
A small, brass bell chimes softly as you push the door open, stepping out of the spring warmth and into the cool, air-conditioned sanctuary.
The atmosphere instantly wraps around you like a heavy, expensive blanket. Low, mellow R&B hums faintly from a speaker hidden somewhere in the room, the bassline thumping gently against the wooden floorboards. The shop is a beautiful blend of old-world charm and modern sophistication minimalist aesthetics done perfectly. Monochromatic art prints hang on the walls, and sleek leather armchairs are tucked into cozy corners, illuminated by the warm glow of vintage banker's lamps.
"Welcome in," a deep, velvety voice calls out from behind the counter.
You turn your head, and your breath hitches slightly in your throat.
Standing behind a massive oak service desk is a man who looks less like a standard shopkeeper and more like a high-end editorial model. He is tall—intimidatingly so—with broad, solid shoulders that stretch the fabric of a simple, fitted charcoal grey sweater. His hair is a sharp, platinum-blonde buzzcut that highlights the striking symmetry of his features—defined high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and full, plush lips. The close-cropped cut gives him a rugged, effortless edge, contrasted beautifully by the pair of clear, silver-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his straight nose.
He looks up from a heavy leather ledger, his dark eyes locking onto yours. The moment your gazes meet, a dimple deepens on his left cheek, softening his imposing silhouette into something profoundly warm and welcoming.
"Let me know if you’re looking for anything specific," he says, his voice a low, soothing baritone that sends a sudden, unexpected shiver straight down your spine. "Or feel free to just wander."
"Thank you," you manage to say, offering a polite smile as you try to master your sudden spike in pulse. "I’m actually new to the area. Just exploring."
His eyebrows raise slightly behind his frames, his interest clearly piqued. "New to Ilsan? Welcome. It’s a beautiful city. I’m Namjoon."
"Y/N," you reply, the name feeling intimate coming right after his.
"Well, Y/N," Namjoon says, leaning his forearms against the counter, the movement flexing the broad muscles of his back. "Take your time. We have a bit of everything here. If you need a recommendation based on what you usually like, don't hesitate to ask."
You nod, turning on your heel to mask the heat rising to your cheeks. You guide yourself into the labyrinth of tall bookshelves, the scent of vanilla and old parchment grounding you. As you walk, your fingers trace the spines of the books. You can hear the faint, methodical sound of Namjoon turning pages back at the counter, the rhythm oddly comforting.
You drift deeper into the store, eventually finding yourself in a secluded section tucked away at the very back. A sign overhead reads Rare Editions & Poetry. The lighting here is dimmer, more intimate, shielded from the front windows by massive, double-sided bookshelves.
Your eyes scan the shelves until they land on a slim, leather-bound volume of classic poetry. You reach up, but the book is perched just a bit too high on the top shelf. You stretch onto your tiptoes, your fingertips barely brushing the edge of the spine.
Suddenly, a warm, massive presence materializes directly behind you.
Before you can even turn around, a large, broad hand with long, elegant fingers reaches up effortlessly over your shoulder. The solid expanse of a chest presses lightly against your back, the sheer heat radiating from his body instantly enveloping you. The scent of him—expensive cedarwood, clean linen, and a hint of rich coffee—fills your senses, making you dizzy.
Namjoon slides the book smoothly from the shelf. He doesn't step back immediately. Instead, he lingers, his tall frame completely shadowing yours in the narrow aisle.
"This is a beautiful choice," Namjoon murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating directly against the back of your neck. "One of my personal favorites."
You slowly turn around within the tight space he’s trapped you in. Your back presses against the sturdy wooden bookshelf behind you, and you look up. Without the counter between you, his height is staggering. He has taken off his glasses, tucking them into the collar of his sweater, and his dark eyes are incredibly intense. The short blonde buzzcut makes his gaze feel even more direct, completely framing his face with a bold, masculine intensity that makes your knees feel weak.
"Is it?" you whisper, your voice suddenly breathless. The playful, confident edge you usually carry is entirely compromised by how commanding he looks standing over you.
"Mm," Namjoon hums, stepping a fraction closer. His thighs brush against yours, a deliberate, burning contact. He holds the book between you, his long fingers tapping rhythmically against the leather cover. "The imagery is incredibly sensual. It’s all about longing. About wanting something so intensely that it consumes you."
The air between you grows thick, charged with a sudden, electric tension. The low R&B track playing in the front of the shop feels miles away now, drowned out by the heavy thudding of your heart. Namjoon’s gaze drops to your lips, his own parting slightly as his breath hitches.
"You look beautiful in this light, Y/N," he says softly, his candor direct and completely devoid of hesitation. "To be honest, I haven't been able to focus on my book since you walked in."
A bold, thrilling wave of desire washes over you, melting away your initial nervousness. You look up at him through your lashes, leaning just a fraction closer to his chest. "And here I thought you were just being a helpful store owner."
A low, dark chuckle rumbles in Namjoon’s chest. He places the book down on a nearby ledge without breaking eye contact. "I am the owner. Which means I can decide exactly when the shop closes for the evening."
Before you can process his words, Namjoon reaches past you and flips a small latch on the side of the bookshelf. A hidden panel clicks, and with a gentle push, a section of the wall swings inward, revealing a sleek, dimly lit private office.
Namjoon guides you inside by the small of your back, his touch firm and possessive. He closes the door behind you, locking it with a quiet click that seals the two of you away from the rest of the world.
The office is beautiful—minimalist, dark, and incredibly plush. A large, dark mahogany desk sits in the center, and a leather sofa lines the back wall under a single, glowing amber sconce.
Namjoon turns to you, his entire demeanor shifting from the intellectual, polite bookstore owner to someone entirely consumed by desire. He doesn't waste another second. He steps into your space, his large hands coming up to cradle your face, his thumbs wiping across your cheekbones with surprising gentleness before his lips descend onto yours.
The kiss is deep, bruising, and fiercely demanding.
You gasp into his mouth, and Namjoon takes full advantage, his tongue sliding past your lips to claim yours in a slow, heavy rhythm that matches the bassline filtering through the walls. You wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers brushing against the soft prickle of his blonde buzzcut as you pull yourself flush against him. He groans, his hands sliding down your neck, over your shoulders, and gripping your waist with a strength that makes you whimper.
He pulls back just an inch, his lips wet and flushed, his breathing ragged. "I’ve been thinking about doing this since you smiled at me at the counter," he murmurs against your skin, his lips tracing down your jawline to press hot, lingering kisses against the sensitive pulse point of your neck.
"Namjoon," you breathe out, your fingers tangling along the short, textured sides of his hair, pulling him closer.
He lifts you effortlessly, your thighs instinctively wrapping around his broad waist. He carries you the short distance to his desk, clearing a stack of papers with one sweep of his arm before setting you down on the edge of the smooth, dark wood. He steps between your thighs, pushing your skirt up your legs, his large palms hot against your bare skin.
"You are so soft," he groans, his dark eyes looking up at you with an intensity that burns. He reaches for the hem of your top, lifting it over your head and tossing it aside, leaving you in just your lace bra. Namjoon takes a step back, his eyes slowly sweeping over your form, appreciating every curve with unadulterated reverence. "Absolutely exquisite."
The heat in his gaze makes you feel entirely exposed yet incredibly powerful. You reach forward, your fingers catching the hem of his charcoal sweater. "Take it off," you command softly.
A dimple flashes briefly before Namjoon pulls the sweater over his head, discarding it on the floor. Underneath, his body is breathtaking—sculpted, broad chest, deeply defined abdominal muscles, and strong arms mapped with faint veins. You reach out, your palms pressing against his chest, feeling the rapid, heavy thud of his heart.
Namjoon leans back in, his hands finding the clasp of your bra and releasing it with practiced ease. He catches your lips in another searing kiss while his hands cup your breasts, his long fingers kneading the soft flesh before his thumbs begin to stroke your nipples. A sharp, high whine catches in your throat, your head tilting back as a wave of intense pleasure coils deep in your stomach.
He shifts his attention downward, his lips following the path of his hands. He drops to his knees between your open thighs, his hands gripping your hips, anchoring you to the edge of the desk.
"Namjoon, wait—" you gasp out as you realize what he’s about to do.
"Let me taste you, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice thick and dripping with promise. "Let me welcome you to the neighborhood properly."
He slides your underwear down your legs, tossing them away. Slowly, deliberately, he presses your thighs wider apart, opening you up completely to his gaze. You flush, but before you can feel self-conscious, Namjoon leans forward, his hot breath fanning against your inner thigh, making you tremble.
When his tongue makes first contact, your fingers instantly fly to the edge of the mahogany desk, gripping the wood so hard your knuckles turn white.
Namjoon is meticulous. He uses his tongue in broad, wet strokes, painting your sensitive flesh before focusing entirely on your clit. He sucks it gently into his mouth, his tongue swirling in a relentless, agonizingly perfect rhythm. You writhe against the desk, your hips lifting into his mouth instinctively as the pleasure threatens to overwhelm you.
"Namjoon, please," you cry out, your voice echoing softly in the quiet room.
He hums against you, the vibration sending a jolt of pure electricity straight through your core. He slides two long fingers inside your slick warmth, pumping them deeply while his mouth continues its ruthless assault. The combination is too much. Your breath hitches, your vision blurring as your walls tighten around his fingers. You arch your back, a loud, uninhibited moan ripping from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you in violent, beautiful waves.
Namjoon stays with you through every single pulse, drinking you in until your trembling slowly begins to subside.
He stands up slowly, his face flushed, a wet sheen on his lips that makes him look completely undone. His dark eyes are wild with a primal hunger as he quickly unbuttons his trousers, pushing them down along with his boxers. When he frees himself, you take a sharp breath—he is thick, heavy, and fully aroused, glistening in the dim amber light.
He reaches into his desk drawer, pulling out a small foil packet. With trembling but efficient hands, he tears it open and rolls the protection over his length.
He steps back between your legs, lifting your knees to rest over his broad shoulders, opening you up completely. He rests the blunt tip of his length against your soaking entrance, pausing for just a fraction of a second to look deep into your eyes.
"Look at me, Y/N," he commands softly, his voice thick.
You lock your eyes onto his, your breath catching as Namjoon slowly, steadily pushes himself inside you.
The sheer size of him stretches you completely, filling you to the absolute brim. You let out a long, shaky sigh, your hands moving to grip his bicep and shoulder as he bottoms out against your core, holding himself still for a moment to let you adjust to his depth.
"You fit me so perfectly," he whispers, a low growl tearing from his throat.
He begins to move. He pulls out almost completely before driving back in, a slow, agonizingly deep rhythm that makes you lose all sense of time and space. The smooth mahogany desk clicks faintly with each of his powerful thrusts. Namjoon leans forward, pinning your hands to the desk beside your head, his chest pressing down against yours as his pace begins to quicken.
The friction is incredible. Every drive of his hips hits your sweet spot with unerring accuracy. You throw your head back, your moans filling the office, entirely untamed. Namjoon loses his restraint entirely at the sound of your pleasure. His thrusts become harder, faster, his broad hips slamming against yours with a desperate, heavy urgency.
"Namjoon, I’m—I’m going again," you sob out, the tension building so rapidly you can barely breathe.
"Come for me, sweetheart," he pants, his voice raw and breathless against your ear. "Let me feel it."
He delivers three more incredibly deep, hard thrusts. Your internal walls clamp down tightly around him as a second, even more intense orgasm rips through your body. The sheer sensation sends Namjoon over the edge. He lets out a loud, guttural groan, his eyes closing tight as he drives into you one last, deep time, his body shaking violently as he releases his heat inside the protection.
He holds himself deep inside you for a long moment, his forehead resting against your shoulder as both of your chests heave, trying to catch your breath.
The quiet R&B music from the front of the shop finally filters back into your awareness, a smooth, slow melody that matches the peaceful afterglow settling over the room.
Slowly, Namjoon pulls out of you with a soft sigh. He takes care of the protection, disposing of it quickly before retrieving a clean cloth from a small restroom attached to the office. He gently cleans you up, his movements incredibly tender and devoid of any rush, his dimple reappearing as he catches you watching him with sleepy, content eyes.
He pulls a soft, oversized linen button-down shirt from a hanger in his closet and gently helps you slide your arms into it, buttoning it up halfway. He then pulls on his own trousers, leaving his chest bare as he sits down on the edge of the desk right next to you.
He pulls you into his side, his large arm wrapping securely around your waist, drawing you into his warmth. You rest your head against his solid chest, listening to the steady, calming rhythm of his heartbeat.
"So," Namjoon murmurs softly, his fingers gently tracing soothing circles on your bare thigh where the shirt rides up. "How are you liking your new neighborhood so far?"
A soft laugh escapes your lips, and you look up at him, a bright, genuine smile spreading across your face.
"I think," you say, reaching up to gently tap his dimpled cheek, "I’m going to love living here."
