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Habits Namjoon (19+)

To those who requested A Namjoon smut here you go.. Hope you love it.. especially @gabbylu13
Namjoon’s hands are rolling tiny, tingling circles into the skin between your shirt and your skirt and you can already tell from the bubbling in your stomach, faint blush on your cheeks and hitch in your breath that this’ll be the longest hour and a half of your life. “Enjoy your movie,” the cashier smiles, handing you the tickets you almost drop right to the concrete because Namjoon is dragging his fingers across your hips as he leads you inside, holding the door open for you as you duck under his arm. You bite your lip, mouth curling up – Friday nights are always crowded but that’s never stopped him before. “Oh, don’t worry,” he follows you in, “we will.” You wouldn’t call it a bad habit – that implies you don’t like it and you do – but Namjoon has a penchant for making you hiss, pant and squirm where anyone can turn and ask if you’re alright or roll their eyes or ask you to leave, rambling on about your generation being “fucking shameless” and slamming the door behind you. In the car on the way to work when the glass is still fogged, drawing shapes in the window to keep your mind off his fingers prying your mouth open before he tells you suck and then pulling your head into his lap, sprawled out on the couch with his mouth on your chest while you’re trying not succeeding to set up a doctor’s appointment, sitting at the goddamn dinner table with his hand between your thighs, trying to pass Yoongi a napkin without crushing it but however he begins it always ends with you screaming his name back into his mouth while his hips stutter against you because the week’s not a week until you’ve moaned Namjoon at least eighty times. The previews haven’t even started and already Namjoon’s hand is grazing up your thigh and under the pleats of your skirt, fingers already walking their way up your legs in tiny trots, his eyes trained on one incredibly fascinating pixel on the screen. You purse your lips, squint your eyes, trying not to drown in the feeling of his fingertips against your legs so you drown yourself in soda instead, taking a generous swig and holding it over the armrest, ice rattling in the cup. “Want some?” He takes the soda and sets it down beside him, stretching over your armrest to lean in your ear. “It is so cute the way you try to hold everything in.” You hear his smirk more than see it and whip your head to the side, hair slapping softly against his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Oh, but I think you do,” he feigns a tiny gasp, mouth falling open the slightest bit as he hooks a finger past your panties and strokes, “know exactly what I’m talking about.” It sends shivers through your core, up your stomach and out through your throat. You bite your knuckle until you almost taste copper, barely holding back a squeak and glaring at the screen blaring ads before you, both loving and loathing the way he slides two fingers into you, curling them just so that you can’t help but mutter fuck as you shift in your seat. “That’s what I like to hear,” he says, leaning back against his seat, about to add something probably just as racy when a shoe shoves the back of his chair and a young, irritated voice cuts through the haze of bliss. “Hey, want to shut the fuck up?” His fingers still and you almost kick someone’s seat. Namjoon looks at you, you look at Namjoon, see his eyebrow twitch with that damn smirk on his face as he slips his fingers away from you. “Namjoon, don’t,” you hiss, ready to slam your head on the armrest if only to hide your face. “Don’t you fucking dare,” you whisper, “don’t do it,” but Namjoon’s already flashing his middle finger, wetness and all, in the kid’s face with a sly grin that only widens as his face pales with the realization. Your jaw goes slack and you press your fingers to your forehead. “Oh my god.” Namjoon tilts his head, still smirking as he asks, “Anything else?” But before Heckler can retort, you pull Namjoon by the arm out of his seat, shrugging your purse over your shoulder and pulling your skirt as far down as it’ll go. “Nope, nothing else, we’re done here, see you,” and you tug him out of the auditorium, avoiding glances and curious looks, speeding down the carpeted hallway and not stopping until you reach the bathroom and shove him in a stall, locking it behind you so you can shove your lips on his, hands grappling at his belt. He grunts against your mouth when the clink of metal hits his ears and you push him away, debating dropping to your knees but then again, maybe you shouldn’t. “Okay, you did not – ” you yank his jeans down by the loops “ – just finger me then use the same fingers to flip someone off!” His hands settle on your hips after he rucks your skirt up your thighs with a chuckle that lilts up when you palm the tent in his boxers with eager hands. “I thought it was hilarious,” he says, teeth pulling at the skin of your collarbones and you can’t wait to see the purple splotch that’ll be there by morning. He hooks your leg over his hip, hand trailing up the bottom of your thigh, the other digging hard into your ass before pulling your thong down your legs, pulling his cock from the slit in his boxers. “That kid’s probably scarred for life back there,” you gripe, voice barely more than carefully carved out moans when your back hits the wall of the stall, hips pinned by Namjoon’s. You dig your nails into his shoulders, drag one, two, three lines as he thrusts into you one, two three times, forehead landing on yours. There’s something you love about watching Namjoon fuck you, you just haven’t figured it out yet. It could be the way his face screws with concentration, the way you can see his muscles tense with every push, the way he can hardly hold back his groans of shit and oh fuck so he kisses you instead, runs his tongue across yours instead, the way he holds your hips with hot, heavy hands like they’re the only grip on reality he has left. “Namjoon,” you whine when his tongue leaves your mouth, trying not to bite your own as you thump against the wall. Your blood is boiling with that stinging kind of pleasure that Namjoon’s an expert at giving you and you can barely get out what you want to say between the rocking of his hips that has you aching for more, for harder, faster, deeper. “We’re in – ah – a public restroom.” “Romantic, isn’t it?” He responds after taking his lips from that one spot under your chin that usually has you keening except hey, you’re in a public bathroom. You wind a hand in his locks and tug – he doesn’t like to admit it, but he loves it – until he meets your eyes again. You swivel your hips, your chest brushing against his and this would be so much nicer if your shirts weren’t keeping you apart but you lick your lips anyway. “I’m just saying,” you bite into his neck to muffle your moan, “hurry the fuck up,” you finish, punctuating each word with a rough bounce on his hips that has his hand slamming down beside your head, a string of curses winding from his mouth. “If you say so,” he says before angling higher – you almost scream, body trembling – and giving you that harder, faster, deeper you were aching for. With each of his thrusts you grind your hips down to meet his, winding your arms around his neck so you’ll be as close as allowed even though he wouldn’t even think of ever pulling away. It takes four more hard thrusts, two murmurs of fuck, Namjoon and one hand clawing down your back, cutting through tiny drops of sweat and you’re clenching around him, limbs locking in patterns of warm, brilliant white before he releases inside you with his teeth at your throat. More effort than you’d like to admit is needed to unwind your arms from his neck when the throbbing subsides, your head lulling to land on the wall behind you with a giggle, not bothering to put your clothes back on so Namjoon does it for you, pulling your thong up with light fingers that are more gentle then mischievous, smoothing down your hair with hands that are weighed with more affection than just desire. You tuck him into his shorts, yank up the zipper, fiddle with his belt until all looks well and relatively decent. You part his hair and comb it down but before you can do anything else, he bursts into low laughs. “What?” “You know, when we barged in here, we didn’t even make sure it was empty first.” Your stomach flips and you duck your head under the door. You don’t see any shoes and you doubt anyone would stand on a toilet seat just to hear you two fuck so you just shrug, unlock the door and lead him out by the hand, still warm, still buzzing, still smiling. “I heard that movie got really good reviews,” he says from behind you. You squeeze his hand tighter. “I didn’t really want to see it anyway.”

Please the next member if not I'll continue with the age order

My my my .. Namjoon... Im liking this.. 😍😍😍👌
I love namjoon so much more
well hot damn 0//////0 thats........ I'm lost, and I forgot what I was going to say XD
i would like to be added to the list please.
claps 😶