The Rivalry
Summary: Namjoon x reader. You have always been the best in school until Kim Namjoon showed up. e2l, university!au, non-idol!au
Genre: Smut
Warnings: Unprotected sex, lots of smug Namjoon.
a/n: This is my gift for @ddaenysus for the BTS Writing Cafe Coffeehouse. I hope that you like it, darling. I tried to incorporate as much of the things you like into it. I enjoyed talking with you and getting to know you and reading your fics! 🥰
Word Count: 3147
You had always been the best in all of your classes in school. Growing up, you’d gotten all the stars, check marks, As, and pats on the back that were possible to receive. You weren’t sure what motivated you so much, but, if you weren’t the top of your class, you didn’t know who you were supposed to be. This continued into your experience at university. You pushed your way to the top of every single class, the apple of every professor’s eye. Now, you were reaping the benefits of having worked so hard through your first 3.5 years, and you had one semester left before graduating with the highest honors and moving on to graduate school.
That was, of course, until you met Kim Namjoon. For some reason, he was in two of your classes this semester even though you hadn’t been in classes with him before. When you scored 93% on a test, he’d score 96%. You were used to being the student who set the curve for all the tests, but now you found yourself coming in slightly below the top score. Kim Namjoon, however, was sitting at the very top.
You hated him. His smug, adorable face with his little dimples. Who did he think he was fooling looking that cute? You can see the danger in the way he stared, the way he held his shoulders back, the way he sat with his legs spread, leaning against the chairs casually. He always appeared like none of this was a big deal to him. Yeah, he took notes, worked on his computer, just like everyone else who did well in their classes, but he looked so effortless doing it.
You’d worked together with him and 5 other classmates on a group project, so you had his number saved in your phone. You never planned on using it, but if you ever did, it would only be to tell him what a twat you think he is. When your phone vibrates in the middle of class and you see the name on the screen, you nearly gasp out loud and do drop your phone clumsily on the floor. You pick it up to make sure you saw it correctly. You did. There on the screen, shown the name you’d least expected to see on your phone in the middle of this class: Kim Namjoon.
Why the hell was Kim Namjoon texting you? He’s sitting 10 feet away from you. What could he possibly want?
When you swipe your phone open, the text simply reads, “Why are you looking at me like I personally insulted you and your entire family?”
You roll your eyes and type out a response. “First of all, I was not looking at you. I have better things to do with my time. Second of all, you have personally insulted me and my entire family.”
“What? How?”
The two of you are usually attentive in class, but, now, you’ve distracted one another. Before you can get your snarky shot off, the professor calls on Namjoon to answer the question. Namjoon panics a little, and you snicker to yourself. Though, it does become less satisfying when after a stunned moment, Namjoon answers the question correctly. You sulk in your seat for the rest of class, forgetting your half-typed venomous words waiting for Namjoon. Your phone slips out of your hand and clatters on the tile floor.
The professor turns to you and, with his face scrunched in anger, asks, “I’m sorry, y/n. Was I boring you so much that you needed to be on your phone while I was talking?”
You feel your cheeks instantly heating, and you almost want to cry because you rarely get into trouble, especially at school.
“No, sir, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
The professor looks at you through his narrowed eyes, “You better hope so. You can have another try next class, but, for now, since you violated my cell phone policy, you need to get out.”
Your jaw drops, and you feel the tears well behind your eyes. You hastily collect your notebook, pen, and backpack, and you skulk out of the classroom, trying hard to avoid eye contact with your classmates.
Once the brisk air outside hits your face, you feel the tears start to fall from your eyes, rolling dramatically down your cheeks. This was all fucking Kim Namjoon’s fault. That handsome asshole just kept causing you problems. You continue dwelling on everything that he’s done wrong to you or every annoying habit he has or how often he knocks over things sitting on his desk.
You are so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t notice the figure approaching behind you, and the tap on your shoulder causes you to jump and shout. When you turn, it’s the person you’d least like to see. Kim fucking Namjoon.
“What?” you spit, wiping at your tears with the back of your hand.
“I’m really sorry for getting you into trouble back there. I started it, and you just got caught when I didn’t.”
You look at him. It’s so typical of guys like him: apologize but then keep on doing what he was doing. You mutter “typical” under your breath.
“Okay, seriously,” Namjoon huffs, “What did I do to you? What is your problem with me? I truly apologize for anything that I’ve done, but I have no idea what it is.”
“Of course you wouldn’t know what you’ve done. All you care about is yourself, and you are so smug all the time about yourself and about how you think you’re better than everyone,” you force out, though your voice is a little shaky from the tears that are now drying on your cheeks. You feel your hands shaking, and you want to take your fists and beat them on his chest.
“So...you hate me over some perceived slight because, and tell me if I’m getting this wrong, you think that I think I’m better than other people even though you’ve never asked. And you also hate me because...I do well in my classes? Really?” His face starts to contort with anger, and his typical soft expression shifts in into a harsh, tight look, with his jaw set and his mouth a hard line.
You are fuming. He is so smug, and now he’s telling you that the clearly observable facts about him are a “perceived slight.” Instead of responding, you just turn on your heel and begin to walk away. This time, it seems that he doesn’t follow you, and you make your way to the university housing and flop down onto your bed.
About a week later, you are in the library, perusing the stacks for a particular book for your research for your Human Sexuality class. You turn down an aisle, and there you see Kim Namjoon, squatting and intently reading the titles of books on the shelf. You roll your eyes and turn to walk away. He stands up, a book in hand, and turns to walk your direction before you disappear. You hear a soft whisper of your name as you turn down another aisle and sneak out of the library.
Then, suddenly, he’s everywhere. You see him in the library and in class. You also see him at the cafe you go to to study. You have your books spread across a four person table, headphones in, blasting your study jams. You are working diligently on your computer when the light from the window becomes blocked. You look up to see Namjoon standing before you. You pop one of your earbuds out.
“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you,” he sounds shy and nervous, “but there are no more open tables. I was wondering if I could take up a tiny bit of your space since I actually know you?”
You want to say no, but you don’t want to be cruel. After all, you want to show him that you are a better person than him.
“Fine,” you say curtly, “but please don’t bother me, I’m working on my research for Human Sexuality.”
“Oh! Me too. What are you researching?”
“Not that it matters to you, but I’m researching the effectiveness of sex therapy.” You shrug your shoulders and go to slip your earbud into your ear.
“No way! Me too!” Namjoon exclaims excitedly, shifting slightly in his chair. “Did you read the Hawton article?”
You roll your eyes. “Of course I read the Hawton article. What am I, an amateur? I think he made some really compelling arguments for the long term effectiveness, which is empirically provable through anecdotal evidence, but what I want to talk about is the short-term effectiveness and quantitative data.”
A smile spreads wide across Namjoon’s face, and, again, he shifts slightly in his chair, a little awkwardly this time. He looks deep into your eyes with the softest expression you’ve ever seen him give you.
“What?” you ask, furrowing your brow.
“I’m sorry if this is too forward, but that was the sexiest sentence you’ve ever said.”
You are stunned, and you feel your jaw fall open. Is he fucking kidding? you ask yourself as you contemplate what he could possibly want from you. He giggles to himself, cheeks red, and runs a hand through his hair, resting his hand on the back of his neck.
“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that. I just...can’t stop thinking about how smart you are and how good you looked in that skirt last week…” he rambles off and starts to pack up his things.
“Wait!” you reach your hand out to grab his. You are completely unsure of what you’re even doing. After a moment’s pause, you ask, “do you have A Clinician’s Guide to Systemic Sex Therapy?”
You are still holding onto his hand as he nods slowly. He looks down at where your fingers are wrapped around his hand, fingertips resting on his palm.
“I have it at my apartment. I can bring it to you or…” he trails off again, so you jump in.
“How about I just come with you to get it? It’ll be quicker that way.”
You have no idea what you’re doing, but you can’t help the image of Namjoon over you, panting and sweaty, from entering your mind over and over. You’ve just been working on the sex therapy research for too long. It’s just been too long since you’ve been with him. It’s not the way that his dimples peak through when he smiles, the way that his hair is parted slightly off center and rests haphazardly against his not, the way that he’s the only person with whom you’ve carried on an intellectual conversation about the topics you’re interested in in months, the way that he sits with his legs spread and his thighs showing in his shorts. It’s definitely not any of that.
Namjoon nods again, shoving his notebook into his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. He watches you a little impatiently as you pack up your notes, books, and computer. When you have your satchel draped across your body, he grabs your wrist and pulls you behind him.
He lives a short walk from the cafe, so, before you know it, you’re stepping into the foyer of his apartment.
“My roommate is out, so we can...study...here if you want to,” he says, looking into your eyes intensely before stalking off through the living room into one of the doorways in the hall which you assume is his room.
You scurry down the hallway, following him. When you get to the doorway he entered, he’s standing in the middle of the room with the book in his hand. The expression on his face is so penetrating, like he’s already undressing you with his eyes.
You drop your satchel absentmindedly on the floor and walk toward him. You stand about 6 inches in front of him, suddenly very aware of your own breath. What am I doing? you ask yourself again. Is this really what I want? Before you’re able to doubt yourself, you look up into his eyes and your breath catches.
He slips his hand around the back of your neck, and his fingers tangle into your hair at the nape of your neck. He stays there, hovering over your face for a moment. You push yourself up onto your toes until your lips are touching his. Your mouths start to slowly move together, pushing past the awkwardness of the moment. He uses his hand on your neck to press harder into the kiss, angling your head to kiss you deeper.
Your hands wrap around his back up under his shirt. His skin is smooth under your fingertips, and you feel your body press against him. The heat growing between your legs causes you to let out a small moan into his mouth. He pulls away and looks at you, smiling for a moment until the intense countenance returns.
He pushes you back on to his bed and guides his fingers under the waistband of your sweatpants. He looks at you to make sure it’s okay, and, when you nod, he loops his fingers into both your sweats and your panties. He yanks them off and tosses them aside. He positions himself between your legs, which has you absolutely dripping.
He pushes your legs open and dips his head to your folds. He makes eye contact with you as his tongue begins to circle your clit slowly. You feel your back arching off the sheets of his bed as he runs his tongue through your arousal down to your entrance and back to your clit. He wraps his lips around it and sucks it between his lips. Little moans and whimpers escape past your lips, and he brings his fingers to your entrance.
After circling his fingers through your arousal, he slides one into you slowly. He pumps the one finger in and back out until you’ve adjusted, and he slides another in. With his mouth on you and his his fingers inside of you, the moans become louder, and you can’t control your hips.
You push yourself against his face, and he pulls away. He chuckles to himself. “For someone who hated me earlier today, you sure can’t get enough of me.”
His smirk sends both rage and arousal straight to your core. “Okay, whatever, Mr. ‘that’s the sexiest sentence you’ve ever said.’ You’re one to talk.”
His smirk remains, and he laughs sarcastically. “Yeah, but I haven’t had some sort of rivalry with you in my head since we met. I’ve always thought you were hot. You just didn’t even give me a chance to talk to you.”
You roll your eyes and feel the heat sneaking into your cheeks. “Fine. Okay. I didn’t give you a chance. You know that arousal and aggression are very close processes in the brain, so it isn’t a surprise that I want to fuck you.”
You feel hot blush creeping into your face and neck at having said that out loud. He crawls up, so he’s hovering over your face.
“Oh, so you do want me to fuck you?” that intense gaze has returned to his face, and you don’t know where to look.
“Yes, okay! Would you just hurry up and fuck me, Namjoon?”
He hovers over you for a moment longer then presses his lips gingerly against yours. “You could ask nicely, you know.”
You roll your eyes so hard that you think that they might get stuck in the back of your head.
“Y/n, I won’t do it unless you use your nice words.”
You huff. “Fine. Namjoon, please fuck me.”
He giggles to himself, dismounts, and starts to take off his clothes. Before he pulls his underwear down, he pulls your shirt up over your head, taking in a sharp breath when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. He pushes his underwear to his ankles and climbs back on top of you.
Wordlessly, he aligns himself with you and pushes inside. You gasp at the stretch of his dick in your pussy. You rock gently against him trying to get used to it while stimulating yourself. His pubic bone is causing friction on your clit as he’s buried inside you. You let out a moan, and he pulls back and guides himself slowly back into you. Keeping a slow, rhythmic pace.
Once you’ve adjusted, you whisper, “Joon, faster please.”
He shifts back to his knees, grabbing each of your legs in his hands to spread you open. He starts at an unrelenting pace. He drops one of your legs and moves his lithe fingers to your clit. He rubs a steady pace, perfectly matching the one his hips have established. You feel yourself careening towards an orgasm, and you hardly have time to warn Namjoon before you are pulsing around him, all of your muscles clenching.
He fucks you through it, his cock hitting all of your most sensitive places, pulling your orgasm out as it continues to wrack through your body.
As you come down from your orgasm, still slightly disoriented, Namjoon asks in a shaky voice, “Y/n, where should I cum?”
“Fill me up, please. I want you all the way inside me. I’m on birth control.” You’re panting and feel your hair sticking to your forehead as his hips start to stutter.
“Oh fuck, sweetheart, I’m going to fill you so full of my cum.”
You look at him for a moment, his face strained, and then he groans long and low. You fill him painting your insides with his release, and you pull him down against you as he continues to vaguely move his hips.
As he stops moving, he slides his hands underneath, under your back.
“Fuck, I’ve been waiting for so long for that,” he sighs, nestling into your neck.
“Excuse me. You what?” you ask incredulously.
“That’s right. I’ve wanted to fuck you from the moment I saw you. And then when I heard you talk in class. And when I watched the way you look while you study. And when you get flustered or frazzled. And when you’re mean to me. Yeah, pretty much all the time.”
“Look, Namjoon, this doesn’t mean I’m your girlfriend or anything,” you start. Namjoon leans up and looks you in the eye, looking slightly disappointed. “But we can start here. I’ll stop being so cold to you at the least. I’m also not opposed to doing this again...a lot.”
He chuckles and buries his face back into your neck. “Deal.”
The two of you stay like that, entwined in one another for what feels like several hours before you decide you should actually do the studying you came here to do.
