The Gift (Namjoon x FemReader/YN)
Word Count: 8.4k (ish)
Warnings: Ethically questionable stuff (student/teacher), kissing, unprotected sex, public sex, seduction, slow burn, Namjoon basically propositions you, wall fuck, standing sex, orgasms (his and yours), fingering (a little), dry humping/grinding, dirty/sexy talk, sexy Namjoon energy everywhere, nicknames, praise/praise kink, scratching, rough/intense sex, drinking.
I probably forgot some warnings but oh well.
Genre: PwP
AUs: Professor Namjoon/Professor BTS
Summary: You're an adult and that means working on your birthday, but you're determined to finish your shift and make the best of the night until a last minute customer changes your plans.
Author’s Note: A very happy birthday gift for @askkrisachan. I resurrected this from the past. It was posted before but was lost when I was deactivated for a bit. I felt it was worth bringing back.
If you're into Professor Namjoon, enjoy. If you're not, please skip. I'm doing this for the Namjoon stans.
Ignore typos. This stands as it is, imperfections and all. If you enjoyed it and feel like giving a Kudo or reblog, it's appreciated but not required.
Tag List: @worldwideseal @askkrisachan
“Don’t be mad.”
Your coworker’s pleading eyes matched the sorrow in her tone. At least she was convincing enough, hands briefly clasped as she filled the limited wait station space.
You leaned a hip into the counter and glanced at the clock, then back to those eyes, now glimmering. Maybe she was working up tears for added effect.
“That usually means I’m going to be.”
“I know you’re almost done.”
“I AM done. It’s 5 minutes before clock out time. I was counting on this time to breathe and hide from anything before the end of shift. Somehow, here you are. The news can’t be good. Would you blame me?”
“No..” She replied, taking off her half apron. You watched her empty the pockets. That was a lot of the end-of-shift gestures YOU were about to do but she still had a good 4 hours left. “..But it’ll be worth it.”
“That’s not computing.”
You went up on tiptoes, glancing over the top of the wall dividing the wait station from the rest of the main dining space. It wasn’t the busiest night but it had cleared out enough you didn’t notice any new heads among the lot.
Your eyes returned to your coworker, who was glaring at the time clock, her face washed in the computer screen’s pale glow.
“Make it make sense.” You nudged her with a hip, earning barely a glance and a thinning of her lips.
“...What’s going on?”
“It’s my lunch break.” True, but in the scheme of things the end of your shift was higher up on the totem. She had to understand that.
“...And you’ve got to see this guy.” She continued.
“What.” You sighed, arms crossing.
It was a strong battle in your mind---both sides in a battle for the ages: push her back out, apron tossed along to finish whatever she started, or be the bigger person and take on what she’d passed your way.
On such a special day in your life. …Which seemed to be forgetten.
“Listen to me–” You started, cut off by the ding of the computer’s time clock.
Your coworker spun on her heel, flashing a grin. The rising level of her brows had you curious. She looked almost…delighted and it probably had less to do with her now begun lunch break.
“YOU listen. Table 3–”
“The one in the back corner?”
“Yep.”
“The low value table. Great.” Your arms fell.
This wasn’t going to help fix the grievous deed just done to you. Your mood dipped and your head throbbed with the menacing beginnings of a stress headache. “Of all the days–”
“Y/n.” She frowned, the shimmer in her eyes calculating. Mischievous and unusual, especially on the clock.
“It’s my birthday.” You reminded her. Like you had when you’d clocked in earlier and she’d given you a tepid “Cool.”
She shrugged. “Consider it a gift. Trust me.”
Your coworker passed over a check pad and your favorite pen. The one you’d just put down. It hadn’t even had a full minute of rest, like you. Until this moment, so wrongly snatched away.
“I don’t trust you.” Still, you snuck another look out, over to the corner where that single table was situated.
A form was there, hard to see much more from this far end of the dining room. You glanced back at your coworker, surprised to find her eyes still locked at that space across the way.
And her face was painted with barely checked desire.
“Jen..” You sighed, hearing the wobble at the end of the word. Her pat on your shoulder was brief. Not a single ounce of reassurance from the contact and almost fleeting.
“Happy birthday, Y/n. Get going. Your shift is almost over.”
---------------------------------------------
Table 3 had never looked more dimly lit. Or it was your dramatic brain at work, already working overtime with how sorry you felt for yourself.
Smile painted on, you stopped there, noticing the form right away. Head bowed, you could tell enough: male. Tall. Light hair aglow on the ends from the candle light barely reaching the edges of this space.
You swallowed, shoulders squaring and spine going straight.
Just get through this, then you’re done.
“Good evening.. Have you decided what you’d like?”
The eyes caught your focus first: almost golden. They flinched wide, then narrowed a moment later. The curve at both ends of a lush mouth.
The menu met the table slowly, pushed closer to the center. You noted he’d moved the second tightly rolled table setting close to the far end of the table.
“What do you recommend?”
“Pardon?” You squeaked. You were taken aback. The usual was a question about the specials, but no one had really asked your preferences. As if you weren’t much beyond a warm body to bring drinks and take away plates.
Delivery and retrieval. Waiting on the whims of a stranger. For fairly good money. Suggestions weren’t the usual request. It was all about the expectations that you met for others.
The smile relaxed, spreading. You noticed the shift in his cheeks: shaded dents revealed dimples. You rocked back a little on your heels and turned your stare to the menu, face up on the table. No way from this far you’d make sense of that small print–let alone in the limited ambient lighting.
Still..
“The ah…Bouledvadier.” You could remember the description and found it promising. And it was the first thing to jump out of your memory.
The man’s brows lowered until they were even. You watched him scour the menu without making a move to lean forward. He had good enough vision but also verified. You liked that, anyway.
“A cocktail.” He mused. A minute later he stared into your eyes again. “Maybe. What else?”
“Well..if you’re a whiskey fan, we have the Sazerac–”
“Let’s go with that.” A quick enough response. Not that you minded being cut off. The softness in his eyes certainly helped as his stare traveled over your form.
Suddenly the mid-thigh flounce of your skirt and contouring blouse were center stage. Not that a man’s eyes on you had ever been a problem before. Doing this job, you were used to a certain amount of attention and that translated into higher tips.
But right now something settled into your belly. A heaviness, bringing with it a glowing warmth.
You cleared your throat with a nod, jotting the order down. Keeping the pad higher in front of you gave something to hide behind as you peered surreptitiously over the top, pen still poised and trembling just a tiny bit.
“Anything else?”
The man finally looked back at the menu, then picked it up, holding it out.
“For now, no.”
You barely grasped the menu, relieving him of it in short order. As you spun away you heard him call out “Thank you..”
As you exhaled on the way towards the bar it became clear: you'd held the same breath for far too long. And when it came out, your head spun. The world hazed briefly, you heartbeat galloping momentarily.
What was that feeling in the back of your mind? It was like an itch. Like something familiar was lingering that you’d forgotten but had begun to grope in the dark to remember. If you fumbled and wandered long enough, you’d stumble upon it.
---------------------------------------------
It was the way he reached out when you’d set the glass down that had you frozen. Your fingers grazed his as they touched along one side of the tumbler.
You couldn’t look up. You could barely keep from whining at the silky heat.
“Namjoon.”
“...W…what?” You barely mumbled, looking at the way his knuckles rounded with his grip contouring the glass. Your hand went to your side. A brief consideration was made towards never washing that hand again, just to savor the memory of his touch.
“That’s my name. What’s yours?”
“Mine?” You blinked. It was a trickle of realization and it was loaded with shame: you’d forgotten to introduce yourself properly. The same thing you’d done for hours earlier. Almost without thinking. You forced a polite frown.
“..I’m ..sure I said my name when I approached.” No need to embarrass him or yourself. You tried the tactful route.
“I’m sure you didn’t. I would have remembered.” Namjoon wasn’t having it, his mouth even as the glass approached his lips.
“Of course..” You nodded,woozy from the action, then bowed your head. “Y/n.” The small curtsey was unintentional and yet done so readily. Like part of your brain was out of control.
Namjoon’s throat worked. You heard the swallow. He licked his lips, tongue retreating behind slightly parted flesh.
“Y/n.”
“Yes.” You smiled at your shoes, studying the shiny black toes of the modest heels that had your feet aching until a little bit ago, when you’d stopped here at Namjoon’s table.
For the time being you’d forgotten mostly everything. Except that persistent nibble, still going at the back of your skull.
It wasn’t getting any better, especially when he leaned forward and picked up a napkin, giving you a better view: long neck. Crisp dress shirt. Still neatly done black tie. A very common mode of dress. The tie pin was unique to him---you’d seen THAT before too.
“Thank you, Y/n.” He turned the glass a few times, not bothering to hide his study of it.
“Anything else for you?”
A long moment passed, then his head tilted. “The check in–” He paused to check the time on his watch. You noted the lift of his brow.
“--10 minutes.” Another nod and his smile was much more friendly. His tone even moreso, he added “...You’ve been very attentive.”
THAT was a lie. If anything he’d been the lowest maintenance customer you’d had all night, throwing you off significantly. Why were you lamenting that fact now?
It was your birthday night and you’d been near the point of strangling your coworker for tossing this customer your way so close to being out the door.
But now you weren’t so angry. The pressure wasn’t from stress. A new energy gathered, hotter and tighter along your navel as you turned away. It flared when you heard your name again, in a low mumble.
It was only safe to look back from the safety of the wait station’s border wall, your brows and nose barely above the wooden rail. As you gazed, Namjoon’s lean form relaxed. His knees fell wide and his entire upper body relaxed into the shadows spilling across the wall behind his table.
Like he’d semi-melted into the dark, sinking into some quiet well of sensuality. Charisma. Some magnetic center you knew you’d find yourself going back to. This time your lips broke apart to suck in a breath you hadn't realized you’d been starving for until this moment. ...Until this man.
---------------------------------------------
“You’re a student.” Namjoon announced when you returned with his check.
This time he was standing, stretching a little. For a moment panic swarmed your senses. Had you mis-timed the whole thing and kept him waiting for the check?
You glanced at the wall and the large clock there. It hadn’t been that long. Your eyes hadn’t deceived you, even being on HIM most of the night.
“I am..” You replied, holding out the check.
Almost every student you knew was working some job at the local restaurants or retail stores. You weren’t unique, but you could freely admit you worked harder than most.
Namjoon took his time, studying the check. Seconds slipped by. The single soft line between his brows, furrowed in focus. The flex in his lips, shining from the remains of the cognac and whiskey blend he’d taken an appreciable amount of time to savor.
It was the way he did it that united loose ends. And knotted your belly. You..knew the look–that focus.
“..Professor Kim?” You ventured.
When he glanced at you, then nodded with a charming grin, you vaguely reached for the nearby chair, fingers curling over the top of the back.
His smile was like a dawning sun. Like opening a door and smelling delicious baked bread. Stepping into the warmth of a spring afternoon, post rain storm.
“I was about to say. I’ve been sitting here wondering if it was you.”
“Y…You know who I am?” But why shouldn’t he?
Namjoon had an exceptional memory–the kind of professor that greeted every student by name, every single class. Unlike him, you only returned the greeting half the time, but not for lack of wanting to.
It was so far from why you didn’t. Why you COULDN’T.
Namjoon shrugged, hand going to his pocket to dig out his wallet. He passed the check back, a card pinched with it between his pointer and middle fingers, the digits so long your mouth watered.
The same ones you’d watched follow the words on a page when you stood next to his desk earlier in the week, watching him scan your latest paper. All you did was wait, head airy and lungs burning from the world’s deepest breath. Even if it wouldn’t begin to give you enough air being so close to your crush.
“Mmm. Of course I do. How can I not?”
“I–”
“You’re one of my best students.”
You couldn’t begin to debate it. If he saw your GPA he might have to amend that, but for now you didn’t wither further, tracing fingers that relaxed their death grip on the chair. Feeling the nervous energy, your fingertips followed the ornate woodwork while your eyes followed the lines of Namjoon’s arms, right up to his shoulders.
“Thank you.” You murmured. The check fluttered a bit as you held it up and waved the paper briefly. “I’ll…be right back then, Professor Kim.”
“Y/n.” It was a scolding but his words caressed your soul. And you throbbed, dead center between your legs. You couldn’t look back or you’d faint here, on the spot. Your shoulders rose as you barely turned your head, showing him your profile.
He waited for a beat, then spoke again.
“Call me Namjoon. No need for that here. We’re not in class.”
“I can’t help it.” You flagged a bit, praying there was no insult or trouble. The way you addressed this man spoke to the automatic respect imbued with his position and power. He’d more than earned it.
“I understand. But try, for me.”
Ask me to do ANYTHING and I’ll do it.
To be so ready for anything his limitless mind could demand. It had you freshly afraid, but fear never felt this good. The way it moved through you as a current, swilling across the tender hairs on your thighs and the nape of your neck.
Your lip was nearly raw with a few seconds of chewing. You weren’t even aware, biting so hard. In desperation for..something. Heat gnawed at your guts and you nodded.
Eyes trained towards the POS computer screen farther across the way, you clung to the only beacon in an approaching storm Namjoon had easily stirred deep inside.
---------------------------------------------
“Y/n.”
The voice came from behind you as you leaned over the table, giving it a last wipe.
Namjoon. Again.
You stood upright, turning slowly. No need to spin, or you’d take yourself out and take the table with you. Not a good idea, even if this place was much emptier than before. You’d hardly noticed, lingering so much between here and the wait station–a soapy bucket with extra rags bobbing around the steaming depths, waiting for your fated return.
Your fingers curled, damp rag dripping on the floor near your shoe as your lips worked. Your eyes scanned the area in search, but there was no use: Namjoon was right here. Standing in front of you once more.
Smiling–again. Without a tie, you noted. You’d never seen him without one immaculately knotted, or his shirt unbuttoned as it was now.
He’d undone the top two.
You wondered when that happened: before exiting a while ago or entering again, on his way to you still lollygagging under the yolky overhead light.
…But did it really matter now?
You watched the way Namjoon’s hand went to his slacks pocket. He patted there, then glanced around you, to the table and the seat he’d used. You looked there too, only to find the glossy black leather cushion, bare but probably still warm.
Your brows twitched. “..Pr—Namjoon? You…”
You looked again just in case, then came back with the same result: nothing. You twisted the damp rag and ignored the tickle of lukewarm droplets running down your fingers. Probably making a puddle on the floor.
“I can check the wait station. If someone loses something, we usually bring it there..”
You motioned, then took a step forward, heading that way. It was Namjoon’s gentle touch–the fingers on your shoulder, folding so easily over the roundness there. It stopped you dead.
“It hasn’t been that long.” His hand went back to his side but you’d never felt a stare so heavy the way Namjoon’s rested on you now. And there wasn’t a single inch of you that minded.
“...Was it your wallet? I don’t think you left it here.” You offered.
Not at all surprising how meek you sounded. You’d clocked out, in your haze, and just gone about your duties, still taking every second to linger where Namjoon had been for a criminally short amount of time.
But here he was.
You wanted to lean into his touch, if he’d bless you with it again. Your skin still tingled where his fingertips made pressure contact.
“Not my card.” He wore too big a smile for someone who might actually have lost a card OR a wallet, but you didn’t move to check and confirm.
Especially not with Namjoon taking up the space separating you from the wait station. This man was so broad. Wide enough to block those familiar walls from your darting eyes.
Mutual staring carried on for a few moments, only interrupted with a titter of laughter as a couple far across the dining room got up, then headed for the front hostess desk. They disappeared around that corner, the double entry doors opening and closing, signaling more departures.
A figure moved at the other end of the dining room, from chair to chair and blowing out candles on each table.
The start of closing duties, even far enough out from official end time. You should be walking home by now, but here you were: stuck like you’d grown roots or Namjoon had tied you immobile.
Namjoon took a step nearer. Every inch hacked at the hierarchy you both understood each time you crossed the threshold of the classroom door.
Right now it was a simple fact of nature: he was just a man and you a woman. Years between you were meaningless–certainly nothing to keep a needful pulsation from rising through your middle.
“You wrote that paper on the Era of the Common Man.” He flashed a brief, easy smile.
You couldn’t forget, having cried plenty about it. You’d never sweated so much like you’d done leaving the paper on his desk a week ago. Then came a new agony as you’d spent far too long checking the online gradebook each day, with eyes wide and praying harder than a sinner on Sunday.
“I did.” You hedged. Prepare for the worst. THAT was it. He’d returned to give you the dressing down of your life for failing so badly. No pretense of a class session to drop the paper on your desk.
Why ELSE would he come back?
Your throat tightened.
“It was exceptional.” He murmured, lids falling.
Your heart was in your throat as you swallowed against pressure in your throat. The lump didn’t move. You palmed your navel. There was so much fluttering inside, but skin and muscle overtop didn’t move, except for a slow rise and fall.
“Hmm?” You swayed lightly on your heels, the pain of hours on your feet just..gone. The rag met the floor in a soggy heap. You didn’t bother looking. If there was anything in the world to care less about at this moment…
Namjoon’s brow rose. “You wrote the paper.” No accusation. 100 percent a dare: protest otherwise. Try to lie.
You weren’t about to do that. If there was one thing about Professor Namjoon Kim, it was his built in ability to detect the thinnest lie or break the strongest one in pieces. Around campus the common knowledge held true: Namjoon wouldn’t have anything but the truth.
“The best of the bunch, Y/n.” He added, his other brow rising. Both even along his smooth forehead.
“I…” You trailed off, mesmerized by a flexing shadow at the base of his throat. The way lines moved around that space kept your attention too well. Your exhale seared through the minimal part in your lips.
Namjoon was nearer with another step, bringing his scent with. Warm, plum sweet unfurled around you. Quite a feat over the pine oil and clove notes filtering through the space all night and since the beginning of your employment history here.
“You’re an amazing student.”
“Thank you.” You swallowed back a whine. Was that delight in your chest? It was running rampant, making your breath limited when the thrill squeezed across your breasts.
You snuck a look at Namjoon, shocked to find his eyes greeting you.
Beaming down at you, even worse than when he’d stop mid lecture and stand facing the class. Waiting for questions. Confirmation. Responses of the verbal variety or the occasional challenge.
You noted how he took his time looking around the place. You didn’t dare turn your stare away. Your attention was the least of what you wanted to give this man.
It just got more questionable and salacious from there.
“You work too.” He observed. You nodded. “Is this normally a work night for you?”
Another nod. You tucked a strand behind your ear.
“Seems…tough. You balance working and doing so well in my class.”
“I’m decent with time management.” Hiding a grin almost hurt as your mouth twisted down at both ends. When Namjoon paused to study your face, you went cool.
“I don’t think that’s all of it but..” You stared at the tips of Namjoon’s leather shoes, shining under the light as they shuffled closer, stopping near the ends of your Mary Janes. Tightness slowly crept up your thighs. The essence of your soul was being squeezed out of you hellishly slow....and it felt SO good.
“You…came back.” You countered, trying to be brave and cool.
“Mmhmm.”
“Why? You didn’t leave anything here..”
“Maybe not.” Namjoon agreed, chuckling. “..Isn’t today a special day?”
“Hmm?”
Namjoon checked his watch, then his expression hardened for a split second. You’d seen that look sitting in the front row in your class, during a particularly poor class wide effort on a pre-mid term pop quiz.
It was a look that had you sitting a few seats back from the next week up until now. You couldn’t take it–your body felt like it’d been lit on fire. You’d just begun to only feel woozy entering class and sitting down to face him, and he hits you with this reminder.
“Your birthday.”
You blinked, looking around too. No answers there–especially not your helpful coworkers who were leaving in turn. Just the normal closers, walking around the edges of the space, in the shadows, and as deaf as they ever pretended to be.
“My–”
“Birthday.” Namjoon finished, then nodded faintly.
“You shouldn’t be working on your birthday.” He gave his opinion, and like most times he had his say, he was entirely correct.
“Well.. it’s not a luxury I can afford as an adult.” Especially newly minted in the world. But here you were, doing the right thing. Like in school, that was your style. You couldn’t justify the cut to a paycheck just to celebrate a day you hadn’t given much thought to since grade school. You weren’t big on making yourself a big deal, traditionally.
“I’m sure you do.” You countered and Namjoon laughed, head back to expose his long neck even more. Revealing endless clean, succulent looking skin.
“I make room for treating myself.” He said it so freely. Plain and simple, like his stare from hooded eyes.
“I want to do that.” It was frightening how easy you confessed.
Something about Namjoon felt safe for you to agree with him.
You imagined what he did on his birthday to spoil himself: Adorable flashes of cutely self indulgent ‘me’ moments, with all his favorite hidden joys, but that quickly vanished as lurid images snuck through your consciousness.
Ones readily to remind of what YOU’D do for him on his special day.
“When are you done?” Namjoon asked, startling you for the umpteenth time tonight.
“Um…” You almost didn’t recognize the place, looking around again. Lost, you nearly forgot where the clock was until bearings returned—and THAT took an impressive amount of time. Doing the math was quick enough as you replied “15 minutes.”
“Mmm.” This time Namjoon pulled his dress sleeve back a bit more. He’d undone the buttons on the cuff and pushed the material up. His stare leveled on you again.
“..Let me give you a gift.”
“A gift? You don’t have to.”
Was there that much shame to admit earning his best student label could be a birthday, Christmas AND graduation gift all rolled into one? Maybe to others. People so far from you they might as well be on the other side of the Earth tonight.
Your lips tightened, after your tongue slid across them.
“I don’t have to, it’s true. But I’d like to reward my top student—AND celebrate your day. It would make the evening complete–” He paused with a nod towards the hallway off from the kitchen. The one leading to an exit at the back of the restaurant.
And going to private parking.
“You finish up whatever you’ve got left. I’ll meet you there.”
A place you never parked but what if he had? The private lot in the back–reserved for permit and friends of the owners ONLY. Requirements you were sure he hadn’t met.
Namjoon had little room for such nagging details. Not acting like he had any pressing concern about it for a second.
“If you’re sure…” As you got the words out, heat rose to your forehead, finishing the climb up your body. A visceral reaction, strictly from the power swelling in the air.
The possessive word choice dug claws in and hung on.
‘My best student’.
‘MY’.
His. That felt more than right. Better than amazing. Mind bending.
Heart and head raced for the absolute limit just watching his hand dip halfway into one pocket as Namjoon’s head tipped to the right. He didn’t bother to hide the once-over of your form, before speaking again.
“Never been more. See you in a bit.”
---------------------------------------------
You barely paused to slide your coat on when Namjoon’s voice came again. From behind you. Deja-vu, but this time closer than he could ever need, even with the narrow hall width. A ruddy glow from the Exit sign painted the minimal space in a world of red.
You liked the ambience at this moment. It paired nicely with a gentle exhale caressing your cheek with Namjoon, right behind you. That was his form you swayed into, without a single inch of yield on his part.
One hand collecting your coat, he spoke, voice low.
“Do you normally drive?”
Wherever your coat went, captured in his grasp, you let it go, but still tried for a look over one shoulder, until Namjoon made a sound–a variant of a growl. Your body reacted, nipples puckering. It was the biggest surprise since Namjoon came back in OR showed up in the first place.
“Y..yeah.”
It was mostly about affording gas, insurance and the mental space to stress over a daily commute. There wasn’t much in this town that wasn’t within walking distance anyway.
Your head turned again and body followed. Namjoon retreated, giving you room. Face to face again, Namjoon closed in until his front pressed lightly. The firmness hiding under Namjoon’s clothes was undeniable. Palpable—like the heartbeat along both your temples.
Namjoon gazed down, lips shaping a warm smile. Further in the depths of his eyes, there was curiosity and expectation. A lot like when he waited by your desk to collect a finished test or check your progress on an end-of-section question set.
Or like last week, in line at the local campus coffee shop, Namjoon unaware and so placid while you’d been bolted in place, back to him and eyes popping. Breath trapped by a tightness in your chest.
“Should I give you your reward now?”
“Reward?” You mumbled, entirely confused. He hadn’t come in with anything. In fact you were certain he’d shown up with LESS than before.
Being in this tucked away space was perfect with much you daydreamed about getting Namjoon alone. The need drilled right into the depths of your most private fantasies and fate took care of it, just not in the usual way: on campus, in his office.
Namjoon’s head bobbed faintly. “That’s right.”
“Reward….Doesn’t sound like a birthday thing.” You grinned. He mirrored it. “We’re not in class, like you said.”
“True.” Namjoon’s gaze darted back to the doorway further down, leading to the main dining room. More candles out meant more darkness. Your coworkers had dwindled to two other people. Two who knew enough to not come looking for you, or care much about anything other than getting home post-closing duties.
“My best student—I think I’ve got enough experience under my belt to know quality when I read it. I’ve spent years reading A LOT of student papers, Y/n.”
A needless reminder but still served a purpose in flexing how ravenous his mind was. His palm pressed the wall near where your back touched when you leaned back.
“I know.” Your voice shrank. The pressure between your legs expanded.
Namjoon lifted his other hand and traced two fingers along a strand of your hair, then tucked it behind one ear before trailing down your jaw. When your lips slackened, Namjoon squinted at your jawline.
“Close your eyes.”
His whiskey infused sigh crossed your lips and his mouth connected a moment later. Your muffled moan disappeared into this surprise kiss. Your body melted against Namjoon as he deepened the kiss.
Your center clenched and you dug nails into your thighs, gently clawing skirt hem higher in a fevered energy burst. Your breasts perked as you sucked in a deep breath with nostrils wide.
Namjoon’s lips came away. His palm cupped along your cheek. He sunk teeth into his lip and teased the apple of your cheek with his nose, inhaling your scent deep. Exhaling with a rumble.
“Yes…” He cooed. “Your lips are so soft. Y/n–”
“D..Dolly.”
Namjoon let out a brief snort. Soft and shocked, but no trace of derision or shaming.
“What’s that?”
“Call me..Dolly?”
“Dolly..” Namjoon’s mouth pecked your chin and your head met the wall, chin lifted in offering to his hungry mouth. No way a drink was enough to satisfy whatever appetite dragged him back here.
“I like that. Dolly.. MY dolly?” A few more fingers walked your skin, just above the knee. As your thigh fell wide and that foot left the floor when the knee bent, Namjoon explored up and in, rising higher.
Going right under the hem of that pleated, flouncy material. Where it got perilously humid, at the apex of both thighs. Namjoon turned his hand over, up to the wrist under the skirt. Guiding the back of a few nails across your cotton clad pussy, his brows drew down.
“Oh my GOD. You’re so …hot. All because of..me?”
You nodded so fervently your head thumped and an ache shot down your nape. You whined and he let out a hiss. The blunt pad of a finger circled the top of your folds, finding the point of your clit. Making it rise and harden that much more.
You couldn’t help it, sinking into the urge as your thigh slid up Namjoon’s side to bring that calf over his hip. You tugged him closer and Namjoon fell against you. A broad palm cupped under your other ass cheek and he curled all five fingers, snagging and dragging material towards the inside of your ass cheek.
Giving you a half thong. Namjoon slipped his tongue past your lips as your breast crushed against his chest. You grabbed at his shirt, feeling buttons popping open more, heat rolling from the wider spread folds of the shirt front, nearly down to the middle coming open.
When your nails dragged naked skin, Namjoon stilled, then moaned and rolled his hips against you, making sure you could feel and had no denial about the wide cock testing the reliability of his fly.
“Wish you had your tie on..” You mumbled as your lips dragged up his cheek. You felt the plump there when Namjoon chuckled in a single grunt.
“I wanted you to have something better to grab onto.”
“Yeah?”
“Mnnnhm.” Namjoon’s fingers probed further between your legs, feeling skin cut deep by the diagonally bunched panty crotch.The wetness against air had your folds cooling enough.
If he kept touching you, he’d undo your entire mind. You might even cum on the spot. Unraveling here was a far cry from the safe and familiar shadows of your bedroom and an upgrade from nights spent smothering under the urge to give in. To touch yourself to a parade of images of this man.
Now it WAS reality: the pressure in the press of his fingertips against you. The way he spread you and the cotton crotch apart. Separated material from skin enough to tuck two long fingers deep, then curving them around to feel your front wall.
You shook and Namjoon giggled. Indulgently, fingers curiously beckoning. Your fist gripped on his shirt fell and you grabbed again at his shoulder, finding a hill of muscle, tight and sloping nicely. Your forearm belted across the back of his neck and nails sunk into heated skin along the other side, greeted by cords of muscle.
“There we go.. Don’t be afraid. You’ll need the leverage.”
Namjoon’s fingers sawed into you with more purpose and your wall sucked around them. When the digits slipped back and almost came out, you whined. When they sunk back in, your breath left.
As he worked your muscles loose with a steady thrust of his fingers, he studied your face. All your eyes could really focus on was the hazy outline of his hair and the rising shapes of his cheeks when he offered an easy smile.
Namjoon wasn’t an easy teacher but he made it so easy to lose focus now. To let your body weight fall down as your leg rose up and he guided that calf over his hip. Even his slacks were silky perfection against the delicate skin along the inside of one thigh.
He slowed to a stop, fingers halfway lodged into your warmth. Your head lolled and he aligned his mouth. Although you drank in the air with deep, slow breaths, right now you couldn’t breathe.
Namjoon’s broad chest pressed against you. The fingers eased all the way out and he brought them up, staring at the clinging wetness bridging both tips together, shuddering has he hummed through them.
“You’re such a good student.” Namjoon repeated. “It’s no exaggeration.” A bigger smile as Namjoon suckled the tip of the longer finger and his brows rose for a moment. He popped off and his tongue traced his lips until the shine was gone.
He took a quick look down between your bodies and grunted. Clearly he admired how your fronts fit together. Was it too much to imagine he’d fantasized about the way you’d fit along his body, the same way you’d done?
When Namjoon looked into your eyes again, you couldn’t see anything but the hedonism in those depths. If someone had a gun to your head, you couldn’t pry your attention away. Not if all your coworkers walked right into this hallway, right this very moment.
And saw you like a good little whore, leg hitched over this man’s hip. And his hand, right up your naked thigh, rising towards the other hip.
Namjoon grabbed the outside of your other ass cheek, forearm deep under your skirt, and pulled your flesh apart with a jerk of his chin.
“Other one. Up.”
“W..Where–” You began.
“Around my waist.” Namjoon’s voice sliced through the fog in your brain.
You bounced onto the ball of the other foot and Namjoon did the rest, gripping hard into your warm skin. Five divots sank in as he collected a handful of you, then pulled that thigh in place. And all with the barest change in the rounded shape of his bicep.
Your fingers stroked up the back of his scalp and Namjoon’s lids twitched, threatening to drop again. He peered at you, then inclined his head as his mouth brushed your own.
Your lips fell wide. The kiss wasn’t more than a pec. Your moan disappeared into his parting lips when they moved away enough.
“I want to give my student a gift.”
“You—”
“--don’t have to? I know. And maybe it’s wrong–all this. Me here, with you. What I was thinking when I saw you coming to my table. Before all of that–in the classroom.”
Your guts and lids felt heavy. Namjoon’s firmness was grinding so nicely against your mound. You clung on, fingers clutching the opposite wrist at his nape. Whatever it took to keep him this close and talking, you’d obey.
You’d listen, just like in class. Except this time you let that need show on your face–brows twisting up as Namjoon rolled himself firmer into you. The wall could handle it all, you reasoned.
“You could tell me what you want, but I think I know. I’m pretty smart.” He chuckled, then nibbled at your neck, sending your head one side. Namjoon nosed along, just below your ear.
You could only mewl—helpless, wanton little tart that you felt like. At the mercy of this man.You hadn’t counted on ending the night like THIS, when it’d started out with so much frustration and disappointment.
You loved the way his hair felt, curling through your fingers. The way his scent washed up from his collar as it came away from his neck at the back. Your eyes drank in the lines running down below, into the dark of his dress shirt spread tight over his back.
Clothing shuffled under your hovering ass as Namjoon fished around with a free hand there. He leaned enough against you to keep your back stationary. And the wall wasn’t going anywhere. It’d seen a few collisions over the years.
Blunt heat swept your folds as Namjoon spoke again, voice dipping. Then mouth too, hunting for your breast. Finding it through the material just as he slid into you. Whole and entirely with one driving stab of his hips.
He bottomed out and your world shrank. To say Namjoon filled you was underselling it. He spread your skin perfectly, stopping just at the first pinch of pain. But that pain melted into a buttery buzzing when he pulled back and thrust again with slow purpose.
It was all the testing he cared to do, and all the prep you really needed. As Namjoon fell into a focused pumping, he braced one palm into the wall under your arm. The other he cupped under your ass, lifting you just a little.
You’d never fucked like this, against a wall. Or felt so weightless as pressure revolved through you from below. Your pussy rippled and Namjoon cleaved through it, hushing his moan of enjoyment with face pressed between your breasts.
Your arms hugged around his head as you forgot the world again. Forgot you’d clocked out. Forgot the parking lot beyond the door at the far end of the hall.
Skin sweated as Namjoon exhaled more regularly. He was panting as his hips snapped. His length rocked in and out of you. While your limbs were feeling more and more loose, and your head lighter, your core was starting to tighten.
It gave a warning clamp and Namjoon faltered, then growled and turned his face up to you. You’d only seen this kind of intensity in his eyes talking about some topic in class that he was particularly obsessed with.
But it was amazing to be the focus of that now. To KNOW this was because of YOU. Your body and your sounds. You sex, squeezing Namjoon as he barreled through you effortlessly, shaking you like a leaf in a storm.
Your body tensed as another warning spasm seized your middle. Your eyes popped open as your arms circled his head tighter. Nearby, a framed painting danced as Namjoon gave a boisterous thrust.
“N..Namjoon” You whined, inhaling his scent. A cologne you’d know anywhere.
The cinnamon hint of his office–where he spent mornings, mid days and some evenings. You’d walked by there too many times, seeing that light on at odd hours or his silhouette darkening the frosted glass beyond, with his name carefully stenciled on one side.
“Yes…” He hissed. Another deep, aggroed thrust.
Your shoulders slammed into the wall. The painting danced again. Settled with a lingering sway.
Bliss washed through your mind, then raced down to your pussy. You knew the rush. The coldness in twin bolts. You were going to cum and it was like falling into a bottomless pit. Stumbling over it on your run away from such daring things.
Things a good student didn’t do with her professor.
Nails dug in again, this time feeling the hair line running just behind his ear. Namjoon tightened when you dragged flesh with an unabashedly whorish groan bubbling up.
“C…c…umming..” You rasped before your body melted down into his motion. The strength and stamina Namjoon had allowed him to hold firm, crushing you with his pelvis tightly smashed between your thighs.
Your belly shuddered as the high faded into uneven clenches. Your eyes rolled, searching through the dark. Picking up things along the way: ambient sounds of footsteps. Laughter.
Skin prickled under the clinging sections of your top, dampening from sweat.
Hairs on your arms stood when Namjoon’s head finally came back enough and he gazed at your lips. Taking the time to completely fuck into and out of you, Namjoon was moving again. His head tipped down as he looked up at you from under his lashes.
His brow dotted. Upper lip too. The sweat droplets stood against his neck. A trickle escaped down into the darkness of his open collar when he swallowed and his length dove into you again. The wall gave more protests: something rattled. Wood popped.
Another thump. Your eyes widened a little as the pleasure woke inside you again. You felt slick and limp but seeing the way he was so intent. He wasn’t done.
His teeth set as Namjoon forced words through. “Such a good girl.. What else do you want?”
He was a man on a mission, asking because there was something he saw in your eyes, that still lingered. A need that wasn’t quenched by one orgasm in a dark hallway.
When you didn’t answer, Namjoon barked, unconcerned that this wasn't a bedroom somewhere. It was his turn to forget the world and his place in it.
“Inside me.” Your lips quirked. Teacher's little whore had finally peeked her head out.. And you'd been waiting for this kind of moment most of all.
The steady pace that Namjoon employed before had changed. His upper body fell against you as he exhaled with a moan. His lower body drove harder. Swirling his hips, he drew in a deep breath and chewed his lip to buy more time. Like you, he seemed to know pain was a savior as much as a distraction when precious seconds counted.
Your eye contact only broke when his lids fluttered dangerously slow.
“God..” Your body jostled, mind dizzy in post orgasmic scramble. “..Say ‘Please’..” He was teasing you, grin half cocked.
“Please..” You played along, twisting the word breathlessly. Your body bounced harder. So did the frame. This time it was in danger of falling off–you were certain. But you were also as uncaring as you could be.
Right now it was all about Namjoon’s driving cock. Namjoon, close to you like this. It was YOUR day.
Your senses swirled, tipping you closer to another orgasm. Your thighs convulsed around his narrow waist. Tightened when he kissed your collarbone. He raked nails down the wall nearby, going quiet with a final, single thrust.
Your fingers circled his neck as Namjoon arched away from you, joined only where your hips met, his neck muscles as taut as steel cables.
Time passed enough you’d begun to focus again on all the small things that had easily faded into nothingness and the shadows beyond your horny mind and the restaurant’s limited lighting.
More lights went out from the other end of the hall. Footsteps drew closer. Your eyes and head snapped towards the sound. You gasped, hands sliding to the edges of both Namjoon’s shoulders. It was impressive, how long it took for that to happen.
There weren’t many boys OR men with shoulders that broad. And the dewy condition of Namjoon’s shirt told you he might have made it look easy, but it WAS work. He was still careful, letting you down onto your feet.
While he swept fingers under the skirt and sorted things in place, your eyes grew in size, fixed entirely on the darkened doorway at the far end. You could swear you saw movement in the shadows. Shapes of people, about to become tangible, and about to make you the talk of the place.
“You have to go.” You whispered fervently.
Namjoon brushed your skirt back over your thighs and reached around the back, doing the same over both cheeks. All things considered you were none the worse for wear.
“We.”
Namjoon stepped back, one hand outstretched and grin shining. Even with a light layer of sweat on the skin you could see, Namjoon still looked even more delectable than you ever managed. You hadn’t taken any post-sex selfies, but could bet the results wouldn’t look this good.
“No. YOU… Just…” Your cheeks rushed with warmth and your thighs trembled. You waved a hand when he reached for it.
Namjoon’s frown stilled you but he washed it away with a gentle smile. Like he hadn’t heard the approaching footsteps, Namjoon took a step closer. He didn’t have much of a fight, taking your wrist in one large hand this time.
“We..” He intoned with more purpose. This look dared you to defy this time, but you didn’t. Just like you, behind your desk during class hours, waiting. Silent and rapt.
Namjoon tugged you forward, pulling you along as he backed down the hall the other way. Mercifully going towards the door to the parking lot.
His back met the bar across the door and it popped open. The night sky came through the thin slice of the outside work revealed between the door and frame. With it came cool night air that your heat parched skin craved.
Namjoon’s hair rustled in the easy night breeze. He pulled again and you touched the door, feeling the cool metal, skin prickling.
“I’ll give you a ride back. We’re not quite done, though.”
“..We’re..not?” At the very least your coat was somewhere back there. You'd have to get that later tonight. Or..god help you, tomorrow morning leaving his place, if the birthday girl in you got ALL her wishes.
“No.”
Namjoon stepped entirely into the night outside. Cars dotted the lot opening up behind him as his dress shoes crunched over asphalt in another long step back. The night hadn’t been this nice when you’d arrived at the restaurant hours ago.
“You didn’t drive.” He glanced around and you watched his eyes roving the scenery around. It was hard to tell if he was counting cars, looking for his or just checking for the odd creep lurking past closing time.
Another weak flutter moved through your walls as you watched his eyes come back and settle on you. When he reached for you this time, he straightened. This was more like the confident man at the front of the classroom. The one you wanted to sit down for… Or even get on your knees.
“I’ve got a few more things to give you. You like cake? If it were my birthday, I’d be all over it.”
“I do..”
You didn’t tell him you’d planned on stealing a slice from the kitchen on your way out. It was perfectly acceptable that Namjoon threw a wrench in those plans.
He nodded and exhaled, throat working. Strong, warm fingers wrapped, all muscle and silk, around your entire palm and held tight. Your hips ached, signaling he’d left his mark.
“Good. Let’s get that sweet tooth sated, Dolly.”
“Then?” You almost tiptoed towards Namjoon’s looming form in the dark and he only turned when you were about to touch fronts again.
Maybe he wouldn’t mind if you followed him to the ends of campus, or the ends of the earth. You kind of had a ‘thing’ for this man. And he knew it now, if he’d ever NOT known it. If you thought about it, it’d be embarrassing how transparent it would look from the outside, to anyone else behaving like you’d done.
“..Then we can talk about more presents. Birthdays aren’t meant to be a one present affair.”
That was true, but you hadn’t hoped for much beyond an ill-gotten piece of cake or a card from your parents. That was probably waiting in the mail slot at home. ...Anything else was a bonus.
Namjoon was heading towards a particularly sleek looking sedan tucked into the corner most parking spot kitty corner from the back door.
You should have known. You’d seen his car too many times.
Watching him, lounged in the driver seat on cooler mornings, reading through a book, or waiting at the entrance of the campus staff parking as you waited for the crossing sign to change at the nearby intersection.
You had it BAD for him. And he was onto you. And maybe that was the best birthday gift of all.
Finally you smiled as your fingers found their way around Namjoon’s, winding delicately and squeezing in need. Almost..gratefully.
“Well then.. Happy birthday to me.”
