#dom!joon

It was 9 o’clock the following Friday when you were sitting at the desk in your office checking over your schedule for the day, the same way you always did, and scanned the list of tutorials students had booked for the afternoon. Your mouth went dry as you saw the last name on the list - Kim Namjoon. Had he booked that slot on purpose? He must have done, he must have wanted to wait for you to be finished with everything else and for there to be no need to rush. Or was it just that the last slot was most convenient for him? Somehow you didn’t think that was the case. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the sudden increase in your heart rate. You couldn’t push away the image of him standing over you, tall and imposing, daring to cross the unspoken line of student and academic even though you’d guess he was a couple of years older than you. It couldn’t happen again, could it? What would you do if he did? Would you push him away from you or pull him closer?

The afternoon’s appointments rushed past, and more than once you caught yourself losing the thread of conversation with your other students. You couldn’t help feeling guilty and a little ashamed of how excited you were to see Namjoon, even though you knew the anticipation you were feeling was illicit. But maybe you had worn your favourite dress on purpose, maybe you had done your makeup a little more carefully than usual, maybe you had applied your lip balm more often that day because you knew you’d be seeing him, but you’d never admit that even to yourself.

‘Professor?’ he called softly as he knocked on the door, which you had left slightly ajar in the hope of giving yourself some warning of his arrival, but you still jumped a little.

‘Come in,’ you smiled brightly, preparing yourself to pretend that everything was normal and last week had never happened, but you still felt yourself blushing as Namjoon shut the door behind him and sat down on the chair in front of you. He was incredibly handsome, anyone could see that, but having him sitting a few feet away was totally different to having him in your classroom with fifteen other students between you. From this distance you could see exactly how soft his lips were, and how his eyes reflected the afternoon sun. 

‘Coffee?’ you said abruptly, standing up from your desk too quickly.

‘Yes please,’

You stood with your back to him as you prepared coffee for the two of you. Your pulse was racing now but you did your utmost to ignore it, even though your hands were shaking a little as you heaped the grounds into the cafetiere which made the spoon tinkle against the glass. 

‘How are you, Namjoon?’ you said, forcing your voice into some semblance of calm.

‘Fine, thank you.’

There was a slight pause, and he shifted in his chair as you turned back to him and set the cafetiere on the bookshelf beside your desk with a clunk.

‘I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable last week,’ he said, and he looked sincere as he gave you a half-smile that made dimples appear in his cheeks. ‘It’s just that I was interested. Your lecture was great.’  

You hadn’t been expecting that. In truth, you had been uncomfortable when he left, but it was your reaction that had caused the problem rather than his behaviour. You had never in your life had that sort of interaction with a student, or...anyone really, and the knowledge that he could have that effect on you made you shiver slightly, but not with fear or disgust. There was no way you could admit that to Namjoon though, not while he was sitting there in front of you. You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out and you closed it again, choosing to look at your computer screen to buy a little time - though your eyes were unfocused as you aimlessly scrolled down the page. The seconds ticked by with neither of you speaking and the atmosphere seemed to gather like a cloud in the room. One of you would have to break the tension that was pulling tighter and tighter between the two of you, either by speaking up or by leaving; you had a strange certainty that it wouldn’t be him.

‘It’s fine,’ you said in a small voice, turning back to him. 

Namjoon raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair, which creaked slightly. Your breath hitched in your chest as he looked at you appraisingly, like he was sizing you up as he ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t say anything though, and you fought with your instinct to start fidgeting or chattering inanely, anything to pierce the silence that was heavy in the air between you, and settled for looking down at your clasped hands.

‘So why haven’t you looked at me since then?’

Your breath caught in your chest. You didn’t realise you’d been that obvious with how carefully you’d avoided Namjoon’s gaze, and it hadn’t even crossed your mind that he would have noticed. You were just his lecturer, after all - he probably had girls fighting for a date with him.

‘I - haven’t I? I’m sure I have! Maybe we’ve been taking it in turns to look and keep missing each other?’ you blustered, trying to joke with him. He smirked a little, but you quickly shut up when you realised that he wasn’t going to laugh along and silently cursed yourself for being such a fucking dork.

‘Maybe,’ he said, after a pause. ‘Or maybe you’re lying.’ 

He stood up from the chair and you thought for a moment he was about to leave, but then he splayed one hand on the desk and leaned over you like he had last week, taking your chin in the other. You froze as a mixture of fear and powerful lust rushed through your whole body; his hand was so warm on your face and you breathed in the scent of his cologne.

‘Are you lying, Y/N?’ 

He cupped your chin, gently lifting your face so you were looking right at him, and smiled at the way your eyes widened, his dimples carved deeply either side of his perfect lips. 

‘No!’ you squeaked, knowing in an instant that you had given yourself away. 

Namjoon brought his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath on your skin. 

‘Another lie,’ he muttered.

You thought for a moment he was going to kiss you and licked your lips involuntarily, but he just chuckled and gently guided you around your desk to sit on the edge of your desk in front of his chair. His long fingers encircled first one ankle, then the other to lift your legs and rest your feet on the arms of the chair, so that you were sitting with your legs bent in front of him. You blushed deeply and looked away from him, but nothing in you wanted him to stop what he was doing.

He pulled the hem of your dress up over your thighs to gather at your hips and held it there with one hand, pushing your thighs apart with the other and standing between your knees to stop you being able to close your legs. Your mouth opened automatically but no sound came out as you looked up at him standing over you. His gaze travelled over your eyes, your cheeks, your lips and down to your throat, your collarbone, seeming like a physical touch which was then mirrored by his fingertips brushing over your face, making goosebumps rise all over your body despite the heat that had ignited between your legs. You felt yourself starting to melt at his touch and sighed as, like last time, he gently pressed on your bottom lip to get you to open your mouth a little further, still standing with your legs either side of his hips, and touched the tip of his finger to your tongue. Without thinking, you closed your lips around his fingertip and swiped your tongue over it as a powerful rush of arousal coursed through your veins and you clenched your thighs involuntarily. He chuckled softly and tutted, ‘Dirty girl.’

Namjoon slipped his middle finger into your mouth to join his index, his other hand gripping your thigh tightly. Your eyes fluttered closed as he pushed his fingers deeper between your lips, stroking over your tongue to let you suck on them softly, and you couldn’t help but let out a quiet moan, your breath sighing over his hand while your tongue danced over his fingertips. 

‘You like that, don’t you?’ he said, just loud enough for you to hear. ‘You like my fingers in your mouth.’ 

You groaned an affirmative, squeezing your thighs around his hipbones again. The thought drifted across your mind that you’d have bruises there the next day, and another shock shot through you at that idea. You had loved seeing your body marked by your lovers in the past, owned, the evidence of their desire for you blooming in the dark bruises on your skin. 

Namjoon growled under his breath and started to thrust his fingers slowly in and out of your mouth, pushing a little deeper each time, and you inhaled sharply as his other hand slid up your leg to stroke gently against your pussy, separated from his fingertips by the thin cloth of your underwear. Your eyes shot open again as you felt the gentlest touch trail the length of your slit, achingly slowly, stealing the breath from your lungs as Namjoon’s fingertip brushed against your swollen clit through the material.

‘You're soaked for me, Y/N. Tell me you want me to touch you.’ He pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a wet pop and you could hear how shaky your breath had become, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn't speak, just stared up at him and whined softly at the sudden loss from your mouth; your underwear was wet with your arousal and you wanted nothing more than for him to touch you, desperate to relieve some of the tension. 

‘Tell me, or I'll stop right now. I need to know you want this,’ he said, his hand stilling. Namjoon looked down into your eyes, and you knew you’d have to answer him sooner or later. You felt like you had never wanted anything so badly, but deep down you understood that he was giving you a choice. Back out now and preserve your professional dignity, forget this ever happened, chalk it up to a minor indiscretion born of loneliness and frustration - or give in to temptation. 

You paused at his words, but nothing entered your mind except your burning want for the man standing in front of you, the need to jump in headfirst and give him anything he wanted to take from you. 

‘I...I want this. Please,’ you whimpered, ‘please don’t stop.’

‘I thought so,’ Namjoon murmured. 

Your hands gripped the edge of the desk as he undid the buttons of your dress one by one, down to your waist, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. His eyes were a warm, dark brown when he wasn’t looking at your face, but you knew that as soon as his gaze fell on you it would feel like a static shock. At this distance you could see several tiny scars in his ears where he’d had them pierced and the very beginnings of black roots as his blonde grew out. Namjoon pushed the dress back over your shoulders to expose your chest to him and hummed appreciatively as you instinctively brought your shoulders back a little, pushing your breasts up. Somehow, it never occurred to you to be shy or try and cover yourself - the thought didn’t even cross your lust-addled mind. All you could think of was how much you wanted Namjoon to caress you all over, to touch you, to make you his, and you didn’t even care that you were in your unlocked office on a Friday afternoon when anyone could walk in.

Namjoon reached around and undid your bra with one hand, making goosebumps rise on your back, then pushed the cups up to reveal your breasts. Your nipples had already hardened in anticipation of him touching you, which hadn’t escaped your notice as the fabric of your bra had rustled over them.

‘So pretty,’ he said, almost to himself as he leaned back a little and gazed down at your body. ‘So pretty, Y/N.’ 

He didn’t take his eyes off your face as his warm hands cupped your tits and pushed them together slightly, as if he was feeling how firm they were, and then he brushed his thumbs gently over your nipples; you gasped as you felt your pussy tighten in response. 

‘That feels good, doesn’t it?’ he said with a smirk.

You just nodded, your eyelids fluttering, and when he did it again you couldn’t help but let out a quiet moan. Your nipples were so swollen and sensitive that every circle of his thumbs sent a shock straight to the building ache between your legs, and with your thighs either side of Namjoon’s hips you had the urge to wrap your legs around him and pull him closer to you, so that his now-obvious erection would sit snugly against your slit for you to grind on as he played with your nipples. As if he’d read your mind, Namjoon moved his hands from your tits to gently push your knees further apart, spreading your legs for him, and rested one hand on your thigh as the other came back up to your face. This time his thumb stroked your bottom lip delicately and you opened your mouth automatically as you looked up at him. 

‘Wider,’ he said, and you obeyed. ‘Good girl.’

Namjoon pushed two fingers into your mouth, the same way he had earlier, and you weren’t shy about swirling your tongue over and between them, sucking them unashamedly. You heard his breathing hitch a little and gasped around his fingers, but as his other hand slid up your thigh again you let out a louder groan that had him gripping your leg tightly.

‘You need to be quiet.’ he said. 

You tried to nod, but he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and said, ‘Don’t make a sound. Don’t moan, don’t say my name, nothing. I’ll stop if you do. Do you understand?’ 

Your body sagged a little as a fierce lust burned in your veins, seeming to race through your body to add to the aching in your nipples and between your legs, and your hands gripped the edge of the desk hard. You had never been a screamer, but you weren’t used to being silent either. This might be a challenge. You just nodded, so desperate for him to touch you that you would have agreed to almost anything.

Namjoon’s fingers were back in your mouth before you could say anything, and you jumped as his other hand resumed its featherlight stroking of your slit, up and down, up and down, before you felt one finger lift the seam of your underwear. He paused here and cupped the back of your thigh - you didn’t think twice before raising your hips and allowing him to pull your soaked underwear swiftly down your legs. He lifted your ankle to slip them off and the cool air caressed your dripping slit for a moment before Namjoon’s fingertip started probing your folds, just as you laved your tongue against the fingers in your mouth.

‘You’re so fucking wet,’ he growled, and you blushed again - you could feel the slick slide of his fingers over your slit as he parted your lips gently to stroke all the way from your opening to your clit. ‘And you smell so good.’ 

Namjoon looked down into your eyes as he began to rub tiny circles around your swollen clit and it was all you could do not to whimper around his fingers. The smirk was back on his face, his dimples reappearing either side of his dusky pink lips. He was loving this, you realised dimly, having you totally under his spell, and his circles increased in pressure at the same time as he pulled his fingers gently out of your mouth to squeeze one of your nipples between his thumb and index. This time a shuddering gasp escaped you and you involuntarily bucked your hips, urging him on.

‘I thought I told you to be quiet,’ Namjoon murmured, and you just nodded dumbly. He can’t stop now. Your back arched as he dragged his finger down your slit again and you felt it breach your tight hole, but you were so desperate for him to touch you that you held your breath without meaning to. He curved his fingertip to press against the place inside you that made your whole body tense up and he massaged it firmly, tweaking your sensitive nipples in turn; your thighs clenched around his hips as you fought to keep yourself silent, but as the pleasure Namjoon was giving you mounted you couldn’t help moaning for him. 

Without missing a beat, Namjoon said, ‘Put your fingers in your mouth, Y/N.’ You looked up at him as his hands stilled, and he did nothing but gaze back at you with his deep brown eyes. Haltingly, you brought your right hand to your mouth and he said, ‘That’s right. You can’t seem to be quiet without something in your mouth, can you?’ 

You hesitated, then opened your mouth and pressed two fingers against your tongue just like Namjoon had; this felt different, though. It made you a little shy to be sucking your own fingers in front of him, but that feeling disappeared as soon as he widened his eyes a little and bit his bottom lip at the sight. The lust evident in his momentary change of expression had you melting with desire and you pushed your fingers further into your mouth, eager to obey.

His finger flexed in your pussy as he eased another inside you alongside the first, and your walls clenched so tightly that he hissed, ‘Good girl, Y/N, such a good girl for me.’ 

Another flood of warmth rushed through you at his words, making your already sopping cunt gush and squeeze around his crooked fingers, but your fingers prevented you from gasping out loud - just as Namjoon had wanted. His other hand drifted from your nipples down to your slit, and he licked the tip of his thumb before touching it to your aching clitoris. It was as though an electric current had passed through you; your chest heaved and your hips rocked towards Namjoon as if begging him for more, and if your fingers hadn’t been between your lips you probably would have. With two of his fingers pressing up inside your pussy, massaging your most sensitive spot with every pass, and his thumb rubbing tight circles into your clit, you felt the pleasure he was giving you building into a fire that ran through your whole body to end in your dripping cunt. You could feel how swollen your clit was as his thumb dipped to your opening to spread your wetness between your lips before running back and forth over your clit and your head tipped back - you were panting now, and you knew you were close to falling apart.

He seemed to know it as well, because as his fingers fucked into you harder he was looking down at your body and he swore under his breath. 

‘Fuck,’ he bit his lip again, as if stifling a growl. Your breasts jiggled with the movement of Namjoon thrusting his fingers in and out of your warm, wet pussy, but as Namjoon glanced up and saw the expression on your face he slowed down almost to a halt. You raised your head and looked up to see him smirking again.

‘You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?’ he murmured, and his voice was like velvet. ‘You’re going to come all over my hands, Y/N. I can feel how much you fucking love my fingers deep in your pussy.’ He reached up to grip your right hand and pulled, so that your fingers slid out of your mouth.

‘Say it,’ Namjoon said.

‘Please...please,’ you whimpered, almost pleadingly, and swallowed hard. ‘Please, I’m so close.’

Namjoon pushed your fingers back into your mouth with a twist of his lips and restarted his rhythm of fucking you with his fingers and sliding his thumb over and over your clit. Your walls were so tight around him and your tits bounced in time with his movements; you looked up at Namjoon, now unable to stop yourself letting out tiny muffled moans which nobody but him would be able to hear. You were agonisingly close, and letting your eyes shut you felt yourself pass the point of no return.

‘Come for me, Y/N, come on my fingers,’ Namjoon coaxed. ‘Good girl.’

The pressure that had mounted inside you broke in a crashing wave of pleasure that flooded your body, all your muscles tensing as you came hard. You were vaguely aware of Namjoon saying something like ‘fuck, yes,’ as your spine arched; your cunt spasmed around Namjoon’s fingers even as he flexed them inside you, rubbing circles around your clit to prolong your orgasm as long as he could, and you shuddered with each shockwave that pulsed through your veins. 

Once you’d come down, Namjoon slowly withdrew his fingers from you, making you gasp and shiver a little, and your hand was gently guided away from your mouth. There was a pause, a rustle - your eyes were still closed and you jumped slightly when you felt something soft brush your fingertips. Dazedly, you opened your eyes to see Namjoon still standing over you, a slight smile on his face as he wiped your fingers clean for you with a little square of fabric, then tucked it into your hand. His hair had started to escape its neat styling and one platinum lock was loose over his forehead, but he didn’t seem to notice as he lowered your ankles one by one to let your shaking legs rest, then tugged your bra down to cover your breasts and rebuttoned your dress. He wasn’t rushing or in a hurry to leave - he took his time with you, bringing you back down to earth one step at a time, and your mind was so clouded with a post-orgasmic haze that you could do nothing but gaze at his eyes, his nose, his lips. 

Once he’d finished neatening your clothes, he lay his hand on your cheek. It was warm and reassuring in its weight on your skin, and your eyes closed for a moment. Namjoon paused, looking down into your eyes, and seemed like he was about to speak before he ran a hand through his hair, straightened his collar and turned away from you to open the door.

‘Thanks for the coffee.’

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the steam rising in ribbons from the spout of the cafetiere.

a/n: hhhhhh i really hope you enjoy this chapter!!!! im still shook about posting smut online lmao, already 1/2 done with chapter 3 though so guess im in it now.  lemme know in the replies if you wanna get tagged for ch3, feedback is appreciated & thanks for reading!

For the most part though, your students were no trouble at all bar the occasional disagreement over an essay mark. You always had a bet with yourself at the start of the year about who would turn out to be the star pupil, seeing whether you could identify who would be the most impressive, original, engaged student by the end of the first week of classes. Some years you had picked a winner right away, before they'd even put their hand up to answer a question, and some years you'd got it dead wrong after one of them had made an excellent first impression but fizzled out quite spectacularly with the mounting demands of university life. Once you'd picked, you were strict not to give the 'star' any more or less attention than any of the other students, carefully making sure you treated them exactly the same way as everyone else. It wouldn't be fair to give anyone an advantage and of course the students could never know about this long-term bet you had with yourself.

This year, you'd been assigned a new tutor group of students on international exchange programmes who had decided to take your class for the year alongside their main programme of study. They sat alongside the home students in classes, but you saw them once a week in private tutorials to check on their progress and make sure they were getting the most out of the class. It was the first day of a brand new term and you had the familiar butterflies in your stomach, the tingle of excitement as you prepared to meet the students you would be teaching over the coming year. Of course, you knew the material by heart now (it helped that you had written the textbook) but it was still exciting to meet new people, hear new viewpoints and mark new assignments. There was still a considerable age gap between you and the other academics in your department, who tended to be in their fifties and sixties, and consequently rather out of touch with the student body.

Thursday morning rolled around - your last class of the week. Today you were teaching a class on photography for Masters students, which was your absolute favourite subject. It was a beautiful sunny day, with a definite chill in the air, and you were a little later for class than you usually liked to be - you had stopped on the way to get a much-needed coffee and had got caught up chatting with the barista. You hurried through the main courtyard of the university, wrapped up in a warm coat, hat and scarf, mentally checking through the things you needed for that day's class. Notepad? Yes. Textbook? Yes. Whiteboard markers? Yes. Register? Yes. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you misjudged the stairs up to the door and tripped heavily, spilling coffee all over yourself, and your armful of papers tumbled to the floor. You picked yourself up, face burning with the shame of having made a fool of yourself in front of probably hundreds of students and colleagues on the very first day of term, and started picking up the papers that were now scattered all over the foyer. You didn't look up while you tried to scoop them all up as quickly as possible, ignoring the pain in your shin which you'd cracked painfully on the step as you fell. Perfect start to the day, you thought sarcastically. And this week had been going so well. 

As you scrabbled to pick up what seemed like a whole tree's worth of paper, you noticed that someone had crouched down to help you, and you could see their shiny black shoes not far away. You didn't look at them until you had stood up, papers in one arm, bag slung over your back and still blushing fiercely, to take the papers they were now holding out to you. You looked up into the face of a tall, handsome man who was smiling slightly and holding out a neat stack of papers. If possible, you flushed even deeper and muttered a quick 'Thanks,' before hurrying away, head down. He was gorgeous. Brilliant, you thought to yourself. Helpful and handsome. Well done, Y/N. You had caught a flash of dark brown eyes, bleach-blonde hair and deep dimples either side of his mouth before you had looked away, too embarrassed to make proper eye contact. You walked the rest of the way to your classroom on autopilot, all the way up the stairs, down two corridors and around a corner in a daze, now even later than you had been. You looked up and saw a queue of students waiting outside your locked classroom and broke into a bright, 'So sorry! Bit of a mishap on the stairs...' You fumbled for your keys and unlocked the door, pushed the doorstop underneath and welcomed the waiting students into the room, then took the thirty seconds the students spent settling in to whip off your coat and dab ineffectually at the coffee stain that had spread on your shirt. This was not a good start to the year, but you hoped the rest of the class would prove to your students that they should take you seriously. You were, after all, a leading academic in your subject area, even if you were considerably younger than they might expect. You turned your back on the class to write your name, the module, and the lecture title on the board, waiting for the last stragglers to choose a seat and get their laptops out, then turned back and smiled broadly at the waiting students.

'Hello everyone, I'm Professor Y/L/N, but please call me Y/N. I hope you've all read your module outlines?' Some murmurs of assent rippled towards you, but mostly the students were silent. 'Good, so you know that the first lecture is an introduction to photography. Today, we'll cover...' You continued with your usual introduction, outlining the main topics for each week, along with what the students were expected to do between classes, and the schedule of seminars for the upcoming term. 'And your first assignment will be due in six weeks. Any questions?' You glanced around at the class and your heart skipped a beat. There he was, the handsome man who had helped you pick up your papers on the steps, sitting towards the back of the class and looking straight at you. He made no sign of recognising you, just sat still in his chair with his laptop in front of him, waiting to start taking notes. From what you could tell, he was wearing a black polo neck jumper, black jeans and shiny black boots, and his hair had been cut short on the sides, leaving a perfectly styled but rather long mop of blonde hair on top. He looked a bit older than the other students, who tended towards their early twenties, and his long legs were crossed casually under the desk. You looked away from him and scanned the rest of the class, but you were sure you had looked at him a bit longer than you should have done.

‘No? Good, let's get on with today then. Chapter one in your textbooks, please.’ you wondered why you were feeling quite so flustered. You'd had attractive students before - someone in your class last year had had the bluest eyes you'd ever seen. But once you'd got used to them twinkling at you every week, you'd never given it a second thought. Why would you? You were a professional, after all, and wouldn't be caught dead with a student. That kind of behaviour was for the older men in your department, the ones who had been teaching for years and had lost their sense of propriety. You, on the other hand, were a bastion of good conduct - and considering you were the newest member of teaching staff with a promising career ahead of you, it would have been unwise to put your future at risk. Sure, it wasn’t forbidden to have relationships with students outside the classroom, but it was frowned upon, and with good reason. The teacher-student dynamic didn’t lend itself well to balanced, reciprocal connections and the few you’d known about during your time at the university hadn’t ended well.

While the students read through the introductory paragraphs, you called the register name by name, subconsciously waiting for the handsome man to speak up. ‘Sarah? Matias? Namjoon?’ Ah. He lifted his head slightly and raised one hand in a casual gesture. Your stomach tightened and you looked away from him quickly, cursing the butterflies he had conjured with just a simple wave of his hand, and continued down the list of names.

The rest of the class passed without incident. You’d taught this module a number of times now, and could breeze through it without paying too much attention to the content, so you put Namjoon firmly out of your mind and gave the lecture you’d given this time last year. You gathered all your willpower - tricky, when all you wanted to do was stare at him - and didn’t even glance at him for the next 45 minutes. You could tell he was paying attention (despite not typing a single word on his laptop) by the way you could somehow feel him looking at you, his dark eyes raking over you as you flicked between slides on your presentation. He’d certainly caught your eye, and it looked like you’d caught his too. You’d never had one of your ‘star’ pupils get your attention in this particular way before, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Namjoon would be the one student who would stand out from the crowd this year.

Two weeks later, it was time for the international students to have their first tutorial session with you - you had asked them all to sign up for a slot at the end of the previous class. It was Friday, your tutorial day, and you had spent most of the day so far either one-on-one with students or looking over your tutees’ learning journals in your stuffy little office which was lined with hundreds of volumes ranging from tiny dictionaries to huge, glossy coffee-table art books. Being on the third floor, it had a nice view of the courtyard as well, which you always appreciated during long hours marking assignments. The learning journals were something you asked your tutees to complete each week; partly to help them reflect on their studies, and partly so you could pick up on any struggles they were having and offer guidance. Namjoon’s had been concise and almost frustratingly factual, and had given absolutely nothing away. You reread his most recent one in the hope of gleaning something you hadn’t noticed before, but nothing was forthcoming. Maybe he wasn’t interested in your class at all? As you thought that, your stomach dropped a little. You hoped that wasn’t true. He could have switched classes by now if he didn’t care, there were plenty of other modules that might be more to his taste. He always paid attention during class - or at least, he always looked as if he was taking in what you were saying when you dared to glance at him. Somehow, he was always looking at you when you did, and more than once you’d tripped over your words after locking eyes with him by accident.

No, you thought to yourself; if he really wasn’t interested in photography he wouldn’t still be there, sitting quietly at the back of your classroom. Maybe he took in more by listening than by taking notes, and as long as he was keeping up with the rest of the class there would be no need to ask questions. You’d see him in about five minutes anyway, since he’d put his name down for the tutorial slot before lunch, and perhaps he’d be more forthcoming in person than he was in writing. As you glanced at your watch you noticed your heart had started beating a little faster than normal, and you felt decidedly jittery. Probably too much coffee.

‘Professor?’ You'd never heard his voice before, you realised - during class, he hadn’t yet volunteered to contribute to any discussions or asked any questions. It was deep and rich, slightly overlaid with an American lilt on top of a Korean accent, and it went straight through you to leave tingles all over your skin. Namjoon stood in the doorway, wearing his usual all-black attire, and somehow you only realised in that moment how tall he actually was. Usually you were standing and he was sitting, so you’d never noticed how he loomed over you. ‘Come in, sit down. How are you, Namjoon? Coffee? Tea? I have peppermint!’ You were babbling slightly and prayed he wouldn't notice how nervous you were. ‘Coffee, please.’ He didn't say anything else, just waited quietly while you got the coffee ready in your silver cafetiere. You turned your back to him to measure out the grounds and knew his eyes were on you. The thought made you shiver slightly, and not at all in a bad way. You poured two cups and gestured to the milk jug and sugar bowl next to the kettle, but Namjoon just took the cup with a quiet murmur of thanks and set it down on the desk in front of him.

‘So Namjoon, this is your first tutorial with me. We can talk about how you’re getting on, but is there anything you want to ask first?’ You were trying to be breezy, conversational, but something in his expression told you that wasn't what he wanted. ‘I wanted to talk to you about this week's class, professor. I had a question.’ ‘About the assignment?’ ‘No. I was wondering about the content of the lecture, actually. You seem very knowledgeable on the subject.’ Thursday had been the first non-introductory lecture of the module. The first two weeks were spent making sure all the students were up to speed on the context of the subject, and then you could get started on the actual content. Over the last few years, you found it had been very effective to deliver the third lecture on the topic of erotic photography - it perked up even the most reticent students and tended to keep them interested when their focus was slipping. You’d found that once you’d started making that the third lecture, very few students ever switched modules. ‘Well, I suppose I am. My name is on the textbook, as I'm sure you noticed,’ you tried to joke with him, but he just smirked and pressed on. ‘From experience?’ ‘I-’ what was he asking you? Did he want to know how you knew so much about the subject matter? He just raised his eyebrows and waited for you to continue, fixing you with his deep brown eyes, hands clasped casually on his lap. ‘Namjoon, that's not relevant to my teaching. My research methods are detailed in the textbook, which you would know if you had read it.’ You surprised yourself by snapping slightly. 

Little did he know that yes, you had originally stumbled upon your interest in erotic photography through an ex, Taehyung, who had introduced you to the scene. You had never partaken yourself beyond one or two private sessions, preferring to observe and analyse the composition than to participate, much to Taehyung's disappointment. Regardless of your personal interests, though, you had never discussed any of that with a student before (only your most trusted friends), and you weren't about to start now.

‘No offence meant, professor, it's just that I'm intrigued.’ his voice dropped as he said that, and you felt a definite tingle run through you at his words. ‘N-none taken.’ you stuttered. You hoped he hadn't noticed, but you knew he had when he smirked slightly, one side of his full mouth lifting a little as his hand came up to brush over his lips. He had read you like a book. You suddenly felt exposed, vulnerable in a way you had never felt with a student before. You shifted in your chair, trying to regain some control over the situation, but you found yourself gazing at his long-fingered hands even as he clasped them together. The familiar heat started to spread over your cheeks and you knew you were blushing again; it hadn’t helped that shifting in your chair had made you suddenly and acutely aware of the warmth starting to gather between your thighs.

You looked away from Namjoon and back to the screen of your computer quickly - he was leaning towards you now, his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes locked on your face. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him smirk again and wondered if he was enjoying making you so flustered. You tried to ignore him and scanned over the few details in his most recent learning journal; you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Usually you were very good at putting students at ease and prided yourself on being excellent at determining what approach different students might need to make them feel comfortable, but all your knowledge and experience seemed to have gone out of the window as soon as Namjoon crossed your threshold. This was so very unlike you that at this point, all you wanted was for him to get out of your office to allow you to collect yourself.

Of course, it didn’t help that you hadn’t got laid in...how long had it been now? You didn’t have a lot of time for dating, what with your daily classes, research sessions, tutorials and endless bureaucratic meetings with other academics, so unfortunately your sex life had dropped to the bottom of your priority list. Naturally you had your time-honoured methods of relieving the tension now and then, but your late-night self-love didn’t really hold a candle to sex with somebody else. Especially not a somebody quite as handsome as the one sitting on the other side of your desk at that exact moment.

‘Is there anything else?’ you said, still not looking at him. He took a moment to respond and you thought you saw him smile before he spoke. ‘No, professor.’ ‘Right. In that case I’ll see you next week. Do email me if you have any specific questions about the content of the lectures.’ You knew your tone was far colder than you’d usually use with a student, let alone a new tutee, but you just wanted him to go. You were embarrassed and more than a little uncomfortable with how this meeting had gone.

You sat still on your chair and waited for Namjoon to open the door to leave. He stood up, looking as if he was going to turn and go, but then walked quickly around the desk to stand over you. You gasped and looked up at him just as his fingers threaded into your hair, tipping your head back gently, and the thumb of his other hand pressed against your bottom lip. He delicately opened your mouth and slid the very tip of his thumb between your lips, your warm breath gushing out in a sigh. You closed your eyes for a moment, his hold on you so firm and reassuring that you wanted nothing more than to relax into him and let yourself be taken over. It only lasted a second though, as he pulled away and turned for the door with a murmur. ‘See you next week, professor.’

It didn’t hurt that your confidence had got an unexpected boost, either - the handsome man from the dating app had actually messaged you! His name was Jin, he was a trainee veterinary nurse, and he was just as charming as you had hoped. It turned out he definitely remembered you nearly bowling him over at the cafe but luckily he’d found it funny rather than irritating, and he had even asked you out for a bite to eat at the end of the week (which you’d immediately accepted). You hadn’t had a proper date in...you couldn’t remember how long it had been, which probably wasn’t a good sign. 

Your first lecture with Namjoon’s class was on Tuesday this week, and you were glad you didn’t have more time to overthink what you had to say to him. It seemed like your semester plan had favoured you as well, because the plan for that lecture was for the students to work in groups to discuss source material and give a short presentation outlining their assignment plans. That meant that Namjoon’s attention would (hopefully) be entirely focused on his fellow students instead of on you as you drifted from group to group, for which you were extremely thankful. You didn’t know whether your resolve would have held if you had had his eyes following you around the room, like the first day you’d met him. And after all, he did have to actually pass your module, the same as any other student. 

‘Namjoon? Can I have a word, please?’ you called as the class filed out, trying to sound casual. He looked surprised for a moment, but inclined his head and walked slowly over to your desk, clearly waiting for the rest of the class to leave the room before speaking. ‘Everything okay, professor?’ he said with a flash of his dimples, hands in his pockets. There’s no backing out now, you thought. You just had to grit your teeth and tell him. You cleared your throat and looked him straight in his deep, beautiful brown eyes. ‘I need to talk to you about what happened on Friday. It can’t happen again.’  His eyes widened slightly and then narrowed as he frowned. He ran a hand through his soft hair and you had to look away so you didn’t imagine twisting your fingers into it while his face was buried between your legs. How does he do this to me? you thought, clenching your thighs involuntarily as your skin tingled. ‘Why? I thought you said you weren’t uncomfortable with me?’ ‘I’m not, but it was a mistake. It was unprofessional of me, and I’m not willing to put my position at this university at risk by crossing the line with one of my tutees.’ Regardless of how much I want to. 

Because you really did want to. Now that he was in front of you, you realised that you weren’t at all in control of the effect he had on your body. As he stood over you, all you could think about was how he had growled as he fucked you with his fingers on Friday afternoon and how hard you’d come for him, and you shivered a little. You had to stay strong, and you still had an ace up your sleeve if you needed it.

He was biting his bottom lip now and looking at you with a mixture of confusion and disappointment, and to your surprise he suddenly looked a lot more vulnerable than you would have expected him to. That vulnerability was short-lived however, because he straightened up and cupped your chin with his hand, lifting your face to look up at him like he had the first time in your office, and you knew he was about to kiss you.  ‘Y/N...are you sure?’ You so, so badly wanted to let his full, soft, lips touch yours, let him hold you and bend you over the desk and fuck you senseless. All the air in your lungs seemed to evaporate in the moments that Namjoon looked into your eyes and lowered his face to yours, and as his fingers gently stroked your cheek you felt your resolve melting away. If your lips touched, would you be able to stop yourself kissing him back? 

‘That’s enough, Namjoon! I’m transferring to Professor Johnston’s tutor group,’ you said loudly, pushing his hand away. ‘What?’ ‘You’ll be continuing in my classes and you’ll still get assignment feedback from me, but I think it’s best we don’t have tutorial sessions together any more. Now please, get out of my classroom.’ 

Namjoon didn’t say anything, but he kept his eyes on your face for a moment before turning on his heel and walking straight out of the door, not sparing a glance backwards. You let out a shaky sigh and sat down heavily in your desk chair as you covered your face with your hands. That could have gone better. But it could have gone worse too, you reflected. You’d stayed strong, and you’d pulled your ace by transferring him to Johnston’s tutor group. Johnston was one of the university’s stalwart academics - yes, he was very grey and somewhat set in his ways, but he was the one you got on best with from your department and you knew Namjoon would be in good hands with him. And there was very little danger of Johnston being affected by Namjoon’s charisma in the same way you had been, since he was married to a woman and had four lovely children of around your age.

You half-expected Namjoon to skip his next class with you (you certainly would have done, if your positions were reversed), but he turned up on the day acting like nothing had happened. In fact, he seemed to be in an unusually good mood, and even volunteered to answer some questions (not that you picked him when he put up his hand - you weren’t quite ready for that yet). You saw him talking animatedly to one of his classmates as they filed out, a pretty woman with pastel hair whose name you couldn’t quite remember at that moment, and you couldn’t help but feel a stab of jealousy before your common sense kicked in and told you to forget it. Namjoon had to stay at arm’s length, no matter how much you wanted him to be much, much closer than that; and fortunately, you had the date with Jin coming up in a couple of days which would be a welcome distraction. 

Friday rolled around, and you decided to head home early to prepare for your date seeing as you now had a spare tutorial slot in the afternoon. You already knew what you would wear, having spent the preceding day mentally rifling through your wardrobe, and had even hung the outfit on the back of your bedroom door to prevent last-minute changes of heart. Amazingly, you weren’t even that trepidatious; it had been so long since you’d had a date that you were just excited to ‘get back out there’, as Rosina had put it, although you couldn’t deny that the idea of seeing Jin in person again was giving you a little more nervous energy than usual. Namjoon had only crossed your mind today because you knew he’d be having his first tutorial slot with Professor Johnston, and the relief of having something else to occupy your thoughts was palpable. You’d found yourself wondering idly whether this date would end the way you hoped it would - even in your brief meeting outside the cafe, Jin’s broad shoulders and perfect lips hadn’t escaped your notice.

You had elected not to share the real reason for switching when you’d asked Johnston about moving Namjoon to his group, instead playing up to his ego by pretending you were struggling with the number of tutees you had. He’d given you a patronising smile and an ostentatiously gracious ‘Of course, my dear, no trouble at all,’ and you’d had to thank him as if he was doing you a huge favour. Which, you supposed, he was - he just had no idea what your true intentions were in shifting Namjoon to his tutor group. 

Having completed your final check of your bag and pockets for all the bits and pieces you needed to take home for the weekend (including a letter of recommendation for one of your previous students who unfortunately hadn’t impressed you once in two years of classes), you leaned down over your desk and started shutting down your computer, closing tab after tab of ‘research’ articles - really, you’d just wanted to read about a scandal at another university which had involved some sculptures of dubious origin and whispers of money changing hands under the table. There was a knock at the door, but you didn’t look up and give whoever-it-was the chance to ask you for a last-minute favour, instead saying, ‘Hello, I’m just on my way out…’ hoping they would get the hint. 

‘Ah, Y/N. I just hoped to catch you for a moment, if you don’t mind?’ The papery, slightly wheezy voice of the faculty director was not at all what you’d expected to hear. Professor Augustin was slightly stooped in his old age, but still tall and with a shock of curly white hair. He wore tortoiseshell half-moon glasses and had an air of gentility, which you knew wasn’t entirely genuine - you’d witnessed him roundly berating a teaching assistant for photocopying his lecture notes incorrectly. The poor kid had broken down in tears as soon as Augustin was safely out of sight, and you’d spent your twenty-minute lunch break consoling them while they sobbed into their hands. ‘Not at all, Professor. Please, sit down - would you like a cup of tea?’ you said quickly. He was your boss’s boss and undeniably your superior in an academic sense, having published three books in the last year alone, so it was important to keep him on your side.  ‘No thank you, dear. I will have a seat, though. The knees aren’t what they were,’ he said, lowering himself into the chair facing your desk with a little huff. You followed suit and sat down as well. ‘Now, I realise this is a little...delicate, but I thought it would be best to nip it in the bud, so to speak.’ He let out a small sigh and looked at you over his steepled fingers. You knew what was coming. ‘Y/N, I was walking past your classroom on Tuesday and couldn’t help seeing…’ You couldn’t bear to hear Professor Augustin tell you what he’d seen - you knew exactly what he was talking about. There had been a few long moments when you and Namjoon could easily have been mistaken for lovers - more than enough time for an elderly professor to shuffle unnoticed past your classroom. You spoke up straight away, interrupting as politely as you could with a deep blush in your burning cheeks.

‘That’s nothing!’ You cleared your throat, speaking more slowly. ‘Sorry - that’s nothing to worry about, Professor Augustin. Mr Kim misunderstood the nature of our relationship. I’ve just transferred him to Professor Johnston’s tutorial group, actually.’  ‘Good, good. You’re a sensible girl, aren’t you? Well, glad you’ve got your head screwed on, at least.’  You ignored the ‘girl’ comment and tried to look unabashed, but your insides were squirming with shame.  ‘Yes, sir. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding,’ you said.  Professor Augustin gave you an appraising look over his glasses, and after a pause got up from the chair. He was still quite a bit taller than you, though his cardigan and comfortable loafers made him seem smaller than he was.  ‘But, Y/N, you must understand: I expect not to see anything like that again. There has been too much indiscretion in this place in recent years, and I am sure you appreciate the need to be...mindful...of our institutional reputation. Yes?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ you murmured, and you were sure you’d never blushed quite so deeply. ‘Excellent. This isn’t meant personally, of course, but I’m afraid I will have to be rather less lenient with this type of indiscretion than I have been previously. Now, do enjoy your weekend, won’t you?’ the professor said with a genial smile, and shut the door behind him.

Your date with Jin that evening unfortunately didn’t showcase you at your best. You’d been somewhat rattled by the conversation with Professor Augustin and had found it hard to put out of your mind, so you knew you’d seemed more distracted than you wanted to be; Jin didn’t seem to be too bothered though, as he’d spent much of the date face-down in a bowl of ramen. He had been sweet and funny and you’d kissed before parting ways, which is really all you could have asked for in the circumstances. On your way home, he’d messaged to tell you the punchline to a joke he’d forgotten earlier, and you found yourself smiling as you tapped out a reply. Maybe the tryst with Namjoon was just what you had needed to get your love life back on track - and the price you had paid was that Professor Augustin would be watching you a lot more closely from now on. 

a/n: did you guess who our mystery man was? ive deleted ‘semi-pwp’ from the genre list cos this is turning into a proper story! ngl, i didnt have it planned out to be more than 2-3 chapters when i started it, but im now thinking its gonna be 8-10. smut is coming up in chapter 5 so stay tuned... thank you so much for reading as always, shoot me a message if you wanna feed back (or just say hi)! and as always let me know if you wanna be tagged x

What have I done? You chastised yourself. You’d broken a rule you hadn’t even known you had made for yourself and gone too far with one of your students. This was wildly unethical. How could you ever face your class again now, having spent your last tutorial slot of the week getting fingered by one of them? There was no coming back from this - you'd well and truly crossed the line separating you from some of your older colleagues. The line that had been peppered with warning lights and 'Do Not Cross' signs ten feet tall. FUCK! You could feel yourself beginning to spiral and took some deep, calming breaths, focusing on the second hand of the clock on your desk. Was it really that bad? Sure, you had let one of your students bring you to orgasm in your office. But, you reminded yourself, you were both adults. What you had done wasn't illegal or forbidden by the university, just frowned upon. Even if Namjoon told someone (and your stomach clenched at the idea), the most you'd get was a stern talking to from the faculty director and maybe a slap on the wrist. 

When things like this had happened in the past, you'd noticed that the director had a mysterious ability to be conveniently looking the other way as the parties concerned hastened to part ways and return to business as usual. But on previous occasions, it had always been between a student and one of the older academics, whose position at the university seemed to be so secure that nothing short of a seismic event could uproot them. You were far younger, far less established and far more female than any of the others, so you had no idea whether the director would treat you the same way or see you as disposable and make an example of you. What would happen if you were sacked? Could you find another job you loved as much as this one? How would you pay your rent? Okay, stop right there, you thought. One step at a time. It wasn't helpful to freak out over something that might not ever happen, and, you reminded yourself, what was the likelihood Namjoon would spill the beans anyway? He never spoke up in your class, rarely talked to other students as far as you could tell, and was unlikely to risk disruption to his studies, which getting you sacked would definitely bring about. And he came on to me! I didn't ask him to do anything! You felt a bit better when you remembered that he was the one who had instigated the whole thing, not you. You hadn't pursued him, you hadn't flirted, he had come to you and not the other way around. You hadn't even kissed. 

You'd wanted to, though. When he was leaning over you, two fingers deep inside you, you'd wanted him to press his lips against yours before slipping his tongue into your waiting mouth. Maybe biting down on your bottom lip as he rubbed his thumb over your clit, or running his tongue over the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder... Nope. Stop that. You couldn't think about that or you wouldn't be able to resist the temptation of finding out whether his lips were really as soft as they looked. This cannot ever happen again, you told yourself firmly. One mistake on one occasion was understandable, you could (eventually) forgive yourself for that, but you couldn't allow your standards to slip again. You couldn't stand the idea of being gossiped about behind your back - it had happened once during your postgraduate study and that had been the most mortifying period of your life, and all that had happened on that occasion was that you’d got someone expelled. Well, you’d caught them plagiarising your research and informed the faculty office - it just so happened that it was the last straw in a series of ‘irregularities’ that led to them getting expelled - but your fellow students hadn’t seen it that way.

You couldn’t sit there forever. You had used Namjoon’s handkerchief to dab your face a little (noting as you did so that it smelled like him) so you took a few more deep breaths to clear your head and made a mental plan for your weekend. Tomorrow was Saturday, so you’d sleep late, make yourself a nice breakfast, put on a face mask and do some housework, and then see if any of your friends were around to meet up after lunch. You had planned to prepare for next week’s classes, but you put that idea out of your mind; you just needed a break from work after what had happened this afternoon. And there had never been a clearer sign that you needed to actually put yourself out there and start going on some real dates with people living outside the university bubble, so you pulled your phone out and downloaded a dating app there and then. You’d fill in your profile later - something like ‘Y/N, twenty-something, likes dogs, ramen and hot Korean students’, you thought miserably. 

Regardless, at some point you’d have to tell Namjoon you’d made a mistake and that there wouldn’t be a repeat of what had happened in your office. That was the kind of conversation you dreaded - the awkwardness, the confrontation of something you’d rather never acknowledge - but it was unavoidable. You had to get through the rest of the year with him in your class, and you couldn’t do that unless you put a stop to whatever...this...was. But I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, you decided, no point stressing over it now. For the next few days you’d just put him out of your mind and focus on yourself, maybe get your hair done or something, and see if you could meet someone nice on Tinder. 

Friday evening turned into Saturday morning turned into an overcast afternoon, and you were sitting in your favourite cafe with one of your friends who lived nearby, idly chatting and nursing your hot drinks of choice - hot chocolate for her and tea for you (the smell of coffee had reminded you of Friday afternoon and you definitely didn’t want to think about that right now).  ‘I just don’t know whether online dating is worth the hassle, is it?’ you said, dunking your teabag into the hot water and watching the water mix with the bloom of tea. ‘Well, I’m probably a bit biased there,’ said Rosina. You glanced down to her mug, which she was cupping with a hand bedecked by a glittering engagement ring. She had recently got engaged to a man she’d met on a dating site a few years ago (after a false start with some fairly disastrous first dates) and although she’d encouraged you to give online dating a try in the past, she’d mostly given up after your numerous protests that you didn’t have time, you couldn’t be bothered, you wanted to meet someone the old-fashioned way, you were anxious about meeting strangers - the list of excuses you’d tried went on and on.  ‘Come on, Y/N. You’ve been complaining about being single for ages, what harm can it do? I’ll help you set up your profile if you like!’ Rosina grinned and clapped her hands together, and you smiled at her obvious eagerness to play matchmaker.  ‘Alright, fine. I suppose I could let you help me…’ you said, rolling your eyes and throwing up your hands in mock resignation.  ‘Oh thank God, I need something to do other than plan the engagement party. It’s driving me up the wall! Give me your phone,’ Rosina held her hand out expectantly.  ‘Can you chill out please? You’re so desperate to get me a date anyone would mistake you for my mother!’ you laughed, and she pulled a face. ‘Anyway, I wanted to tell you something first.’  ‘Oh yeah?’  ‘Yeah. But you have to swear not to be angry. And don’t laugh at me either. Best not to respond at all, just to be safe.’ 

You looked down at your mug and swirled your teabag around in the water to buy some time. Was it a good idea to tell Rosina? Obviously you trusted her - she’d been your closest friend for years and had been there for you when you were going through expulsion-gate. She’d hugged you and made you dinner when you were too miserable to face your fellow students, and you’d helped her through the last couple of break-ups before she’d met her fiance. But you definitely didn’t want her to worry about you now when she had so much on her plate already, and you knew that telling her what had happened with Namjoon would make her think you were in trouble somehow. On the other hand, you really needed someone to talk to.  ‘Okay Y/N, what’s up? You’re scaring me.’ ‘I-’

At that moment the door of the cafe banged open, making you and Rosina jump in your seats as a gust of wind blew past you. A tall man dressed all in black strode in looking down at his phone. He had golden skin, and his hair was bleached with a lavender tint and immaculately styled.  ‘Oh shit!’ you cursed under your breath and shielded the side of your face with your hand, hoping against hope that the man hadn’t seen you. It had to be Namjoon - you had only caught a glimpse of his face, but you were certain there couldn’t be that many tall, dark and handsome men who could make your heart leap in your chest like that.  ‘What? What?!’ Rosina said loudly, ignoring your frantic hand signals. ‘Y/N, what’s-’ ‘Shut up!’ you hissed. ‘We need to go right now. I’ll explain later,’ you hurriedly scooped your phone and wallet into your coat pocket, wound your scarf around your neck and made sure the man was looking the other way before practically shoving Rosina out of her chair. 

You chanced a look behind you and saw, to your horror, that it was indeed Kim Namjoon in your favourite cafe, giving the boy behind the till a lazy grin which made him blush. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him even as you dashed through the open door, mind racing in panic at coming across the very person you were desperate to avoid, and you walked straight into someone just outside who said, ‘Woah! Careful!’ and grabbed your arm to stop you falling over backwards.  ‘God, I’m sorry! Are you okay?’ you blurted, looking up at whoever you’d just bumped into. Oh shit, you thought. He’s gorgeous. 

The stranger was taller than you (but not as tall as Namjoon), with round glasses and thick, dark hair falling over his face, and you couldn’t help noticing how his brown eyes crinkled as he smiled.  ‘Yeah, of course. Don’t worry,’ the stranger said. ‘In a rush, huh?’ ‘Yep! So sorry about that,’ you mumbled. When will I stop embarrassing myself in front of hot guys?  You exchanged another smile (which was rather feeble on your end) and he walked past you into the cafe. You wiped your hand over your face, cursing your clumsiness, and strode off down the street with Rosina beside you.  ‘What the fuck was that about?’ Rosina said hotly. ‘Ugh, I’m really sorry. I’ll buy you another hot chocolate, okay? And I’ll tell you everything.’

Rosina was a good friend, you reflected the next morning. She hadn’t judged you when you’d told her about what had happened with Namjoon, she had just listened carefully and reassured you that everything would be okay. As Rosina had reminded you, the two of you hadn’t done anything wrong, per se, but she had agreed that you had to talk to him sooner rather than later, and do your best to forget about him - though you hadn’t told her everything. You’d spared her the details of what Namjoon had actually done to you in your office, since you weren’t sure she would want to hear about how he’d made you suck on your own fingers while he made you come. A few glasses of wine later and you had your brand-new dating profile ready to go, with some carefully curated photos and an introductory paragraph you’d both written over and over again, trying to strike the perfect balance between self-aware and playful. 

As you lay propped up in bed, sipping your morning tea (you still weren’t ready for your usual coffee), you swiped through your matches idly, pausing now and then to watch the dappled shadows on your wall as the wind blew through the trees outside your window.  Likes birdwatching. Nope. Flexing in front of a mirror in every photo. Nope. Fedora. Definitely nope. You sighed and threw your phone down on your bed, rubbing your eyes wearily. You turned on your laptop and waited for it to boot up; no matter how little you wanted to think about work, you did need to prepare for next week’s classes. It wouldn’t be fair on the other students to give substandard lectures just because you were distracted by Namjoon, and once you’d put a stop to things you were sure you could act like it had never happened and move on - preferably with a date lined up to take your mind off things. 

An hour later, you were updating your module notes for your second-year undergraduates who were about to embark on a series of lectures about the development of modernist sculpture, your tea forgotten on the table beside you when a ping! made your eyes flick up to where your phone lay on your bed. You grabbed your phone and unlocked it to see a notification from the dating app - a new match. This particular candidate’s profile was sparing in detail, but so far was the only one you’d actually been intrigued by; it certainly helped that there was something oddly familiar about him… You paused on one of his photos, trying to think where you knew him from. A friend of a friend? No. A student? Surely not. 

And then it clicked - this was the man you’d bumped into at the coffee shop! His second picture was him in a coat and scarf, with his round glasses slipping down his nose as he laughed. He looked sweet, he’d been friendly when you’d met him - and you nearly running him down trying to get away from Namjoon didn’t seem to have put him off, which as far as you were concerned was a green flag. Assuming he recognised you, that is. You pressed the pink heart icon that would tell him you liked him back after a moment’s pause and quickly put your phone face-down on the bed, as if you were scared he’d somehow be able to see you blushing through the screen. You weren’t going to message him first, you were sure of that, and the likelihood was that he wouldn’t message you either - he was so attractive you were sure he would have his pick of women on the app - but at least you could tell Rosina truthfully that you’d given it a go. 

Now all you had to do was talk to Namjoon and move on with your life, and the sooner you could both put this mess behind you the better.

a/n: alright i guess this is turning into a bit of a plot... no smut this time, but stay tuned for Chapter 4! any ideas who our mystery man might be? as always thank you so much for reading, feedback is welcomed and let me know if you wanna get tagged for future chapters!