#also let's pretend that doors in schools lock from the outside without a key sdkjdsfhk

[namooon]

trapped • (knj)

you and namjoon, your decidedly intolerable teacher’s assistant, get trapped in a room together.

warnings: smut, lots of dirty talk, to the point of it being dirty talk + fingering, degradation, humiliation, demeaning names, pwp, angry joon, d/s themes, slight dubcon, exhibitionism, probably the most self-indulgent thing ever tbh (on the bdsm test i got 100% degradee uwu), enemies to... lovers?

rating: explicit

word count: 3.4k

Kim Namjoon had to be the most intolerable person you’d ever met in your life. He was a teacher’s assistant who was somehow a suckup to himself. He was on his way to receiving his bachelor’s in psychology, yet he was the most self-absorbed, arrogant bastard who’d ever disgraced the Earth. In your opinion, of course. Most seemed to like him, to tolerate how incessantly annoying he could be if you gave him the slightest impression that he was smarter than you. Which you seemed to do quite often.

“Y/N!” he shouted, snapping in front of your face with, irritatingly enough, perfectly groomed fingers.

“What?” you groaned, tossing our head back so fast that you barely missed the wall behind you. Namjoon side-eyed you, placing his pencil down and turning to you.

“Y/N. You need to learn how to focus, that’s why we’re doing this in the first place, you know that, right? Or do you not have the small capacity in your brain to recollect why you’re in a room?” he asked slowly, as if he were explaining how to a toddler how to hold a crayon. Okay, so maybe Namjoon had a point. The whole reason you had to deal with him so much was because you had an issue with focusing on things that, well, weren’t psychology. Like what you were going to eat for dinner (which was 98% of the time fast food) or how badly you wanted to pound your TA in the face with your fist (or how you wanted him to pound you when he wore the black belt and tight white shirt that accentuated his figure and made the Namtiddies™ stand out). And, okay, maybe you didn’t totally hate him and his fuckable brain.

“I take offense to that! It’s hard to remember where you are when facts about brains are being crammed into your brain. It’s super interesting but-” Namjoon slammed a textbook onto the desk, drifting your eyes to him instantly after a much too dramatic gasp.

“No one cares! Get back to Freud or he’ll come back to life and figure out why you’re so messed up,” he shouted, refocusing on the papers in front of you

“Maybe I need that,” you mumbled, pouting.

“Well, when I get my Ph.D., you’ll definitely be my first patient, I’ll even give you 10% off,” he said, smiling that stupid, ridiculously cute smile where his lips were straining against his teeth, eager to get back to work.

“I have to pay?! Tolerating you every day should be enough payment for a lifetime of therapy!”

“Yeah… that’s exactly what I’m afraid you’ll need,” he sighed, shaking his head in mock pity.

Around half an hour later, you’d settled down and we’re staring intently at the document in front of you, typing your thoughts rapidly without even thinking of editing what you were putting onto the page, much to Namjoons chagrin. Both of you were too enraptured in the work you were doing to notice how late it was getting, the sun had already set and it was the weekend, meaning the janitor came in earlier just to lock up and check to make sure no one had dropped a bomb in the bathrooms. The small click that emanated throughout the room made both of you jump.

“What was that?” you questioned, brows furrowing. You looked out the window, dread immediately filling your being at the darkness filing into the room.

“Shit,” you and Namjoon said, in unison.

“We just got locked in here, didn’t we?” he sighed, leaning back and running his hands over his face in obvious distress.

“Mhm,” you spoke, nodding your head gravely. “T-together. This is the shit I have nightmares about, Namjoon. The kind of stories that parents tell their children to scare them from disobeying. This,” you paused, wiggling your fingers for dramatic effect. “Is what every horror movie is based on.” Namjoon rolled his eyes, getting up from his chair and gathering both of your things. He strode to the door, testing to make sure you guys were actually right, and, much to his displeasure, you were. The both of you were locked inside this stupid lab room, your phone was dead, and his barely had signal. Walking over to desks closer to the door, he set your things down and pulled out his phone, looking for help. A small smile grew on his face at the misfortune that he was led to when all he wanted to do was help you out with your homework.

“Who’re you texting?” you asked, all of a sudden right next to his ear. You jumped on his back and promptly (accidentally) knocked his phone out of his hand, too fast for either of your shocked brains to comprehend until a loud crack entered your ears. His small smile was instantly wiped off his face, whipping his head around, staring at you incredulously.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he shouted, leaning down and picking the shattered object up. The screen wouldn’t turn on when he pressed the power button, only a green line going through the center before all light was cut off, showing him it was broken.

“You were ignoring me!” you whined, trying to placate the situation by sitting next to him and patting his shoulder.

“So you broke my phone?” he hissed, knocking your hand off with a swift jut and a glare.

“I didn’t mean to,” you mumbled, meak and taken aback at the hostility in his gaze.

“But you fucking did and now we’re locked in here with no way to get out!” he turned away, allowing you to realize just how upset he really was. You were sorry, you really were, you were just trying to mess with him a little bit and ended up cracking his screen. You figured that lightening the mood could help.

“Oh, Namjoon, always so negative. Now you can pay attention to me! How about we find a board game or something to entertain us?” you asked, far too cheery for what you just did.

“No fucking way, just leave me alone,” he snapped, stroking the edges of his phone dejectedly.

“So… do you wanna make out, then?” you asked, purposefully trying to get on his already clearly frayed nerves. He shot you a sweltering glare and narrowed his eyes, leaning in so close that you could feel his body heat and smell the cologne that wafted off of him in delicious waves.

“No, Y/N, I don’t! You know what I really do want to do?” he asked gruffly, his muscles wound so tightly you could see them straining against his skin in the loose and very, very thin t-shirt he was wearing. The grey fabric flexed on his chest when you looked down at it and how puffed it was from the clear and pure anger radiating off of him

“I want to fuck you so hard that your throat hurts from screaming and your pussy is numb.”

“W-what? Namjoon-“ you asked, shocked that the man who once reprimanded a freshman for saying “bitch” would say something so obscene to you. He ignored you completely, preferring to let his breath wash against the shell of your ear rather than listen to you.

“Then maybe a slut like you would be sated, but I think you’d like that too much. I’d have to gag you with my fingers, wouldn’t I? You’d probably drip all over the floor at how hard I’d pull your hair, wouldn’t you?” by now your body was buzzing with arousal and your breaths were coming out in pants. When you did nothing but swallow deep in your throat, he grabbed it and turned you towards him roughly. His jaw jutted out to match yours, manipulating our mouth into a pout by pressing down and pulling on your reddening skin.

“You’d be dripping on the floor. Wouldn’t you?” his tone, this time, had a sense of finality lacing every word, letting you know that this wasn’t a game to him anymore. You nodded quickly, eyes completely blown out with both fear and the most insatiable need you’d ever felt for someone else. “Y/N, I’ll ask you once more, if you don’t answer correctly then I will spank your ass until it’s bruised. Would your dumb little pussy be dripping on the floor for me?”

“Yes!” you gasped out dryly. “I’d be d-dripping on the... on the floor for you.” He hummed, tutting against your skin in mock disappointment, as if saying “good enough, I guess” without words.

“We’ve been waiting for so long now that someone is bound to walk in soon, right? If I were to strip you bare and bend you over facing the door, you’d like that, too, huh? You want them to try to save you? Try to get your blurry eyes to focus on them and not the back of your head?” You let out a cry when his other hand moved to your hair, yanking it just like you both wanted him to. It exposed your throat to his assailing mouth, allowed him to nibble dark marks across the strained and stressed skin. His fingers flitted across your arm, wrapping around it and tugging you into his lap, your jacket lying on the stool you previously occupied, about to fall off and… when did that come off? You were absolutely mindless at his words, your previous shock and embarrassment washing away.

“Well, guess what, baby girl? No one can save you from me,” he whispered. Before you could let out a word (which, honestly, seemed like the last thing you could’ve done at the moment), he placed two soft-tipped fingers on your lips, fiery eyes meeting your own. You quickly tried to stray from the submission that flooded you and your, at this point, useless underwear when you looked into his eyes, choosing to settle on his lips. When he mouthed “suck”, unquestioning and completely expectant of our complacency, you did so, dazed and in no position to deny him.

“You’re so pathetic, aren’t you?” he growled, lowly. His voice this entire time had been quiet, intimate, almost, as if you weren’t the only people in the whole building who could hear each other. “I was texting Jimin, by the way. Told him that you and I were stuck in the school together, but right before I could tell him what room we were in, you had to go and break my phone. You probably did it on purpose, didn’t you?” You shook your head, trying to pull off of his fingers with wide eyes, attempting to deny the accusation but he just shook his head right back.

“Shh,” he spoke, laughing softly at your expense. By now, your spit had dripped down to his palm, unable to stop the small stream of saliva. Namjoon didn’t seem to mind, though, just pressed the pads of his fingers deeper into your hot, wet mouth, clearly wishing it was sucking on something of a different caliber. He kept pressing until you felt like gagging, leisurely and casually beginning to thrust from there to the tip of your tongue, over and over. “It’s okay, doll, I know you can’t control yourself. Can’t help but try and get my attention whenever you can, my desperate little slut, huh?” he asked, picking up the pace of his fingers. You moaned and nodded- well, desperately. 

All he’s done is talk to you and shove his fingers in your mouth and, yet, you couldn’t think of a time where you’d been this turned on, probably in your whole life. You wanted something more, the satisfying feeling of his clearly hard cock grinding against you, at least, but you had a feeling that if you tried to take an ounce of dominance away from the man below you, it wouldn’t end well. Hips squirming and eyes glazed over, you tried to suck on the appendages in your mouth when he reached the back of your throat, causing them to go deeper than they had in the time he’d been thrusting. He tilted his head, watching the display and certainly feeling it with a steady, overwhelming gaze.

“What is it, baby? What do you want?” he asked, obviously not expecting you to speak verbally, fingertips in the same, deep crevice of your throat, leaving you on the precipice of gagging. Your hands that had been previously clutching his shoulders moved to his free hand, picking it up and carefully bringing it to cup your mound. His hand encased it completely, allowing both of you to relish in the feeling of warmth and dampness emanating from you. It was the first time in you knowing him that he let his guard down, allowed his mouth to gape and his eyes to focus solely on where the two of you met. The concentration he held on your arousal left you unbalanced and, out of instinct, Namjoon swiftly removed his hand from your mouth, trying not to get any spit on your shirt when he steadied you.

“Do you want me to touch you, Y/N?” he asked, gruff after he cleared his throat. You nodded, still clutching his wrists in an attempt to hold him to you.

“Yes, yes, please, want you to… to do anything, please,” you whimpered. It felt like you’d been edged for hours when, in reality, he hadn’t even touched you.

“Your pussy’s probably so tight, though, sweetheart, it might not even be able to take two of my fingers,” he sighed, teasingly. He removed himself from your grasp, despite your protests, and switched hands, bringing the still-damp one to the waistband of your panties, snapping it against your taut skin, clearly unhappy with your lack of a verbal response.

“N-no! No, Joon, I can take it, I can,” you whined. A pout had long ago settled onto your lips, making him chuckle, once again, at your suffering.

“Yeah?” He gripped your hips, hoisting the both of you out of his seat, encouraging your limbs to wrap around him. His long legs carried the both of you to the desk at the front of the room, coincidentally right in front of the door, laying you down on top of it. Catching you looking at it, shellshocked that he was actually doing this, he stuck his fingers in your panties and watched your face, confidence only growing, as he felt glossy strings of arousal connecting them to your lower lips. His fingers were cold from the room hitting the moisture from your tongue, contrasting to the wet heat in your crotch, making you jump when he touched you.

“Oh, Y/N, you’re getting off on this? You like the fact that poor Jiminie is going to stumble through the halls looking for us and get an eyeful of this soaking wet pussy?” he asked, slowly circling your clit until your legs twitched in sensitivity, tapping it when you whimpered his name.

“Let’s take those… clothes off,” he spat, as if the objects keeping him from seeing you were vile and needed to be removed. He did so, making sure to drag his knuckles along your slit. When the items on your lower half were removed, he brought his hands to your thighs and parted them until he felt resistance, keeping you open for, well, anyone to see. Leaning in, he closed his eyes, burying his face into your arousal like it was his last meal. Promptly, he took a large breath, letting the smell of you into his nose obscenely, allowing you to squirm away and make a noise of disgust at his… carnal actions.

“Ugh, Joon, dooon’t,” you whined playfully, giggling a little, expecting him to smirk at you or apologize for the act. Instead, he glared at you, forcing your lips apart with one hand and stretching your opening with the promised two fingers on his other, no warning given and effectively shutting you up.

“Did I say you could speak to me?” he scoffed, scissoring your soaking hole out of pure ire, ignoring your hiss at the sting. “You know, you really don’t know how to keep your mouth shut, do you? Now I’m going to have to make you keep it shut. Hopefully Jimin gets here soon, he’s always talking about how much you deserve to choke on something thick.” There’s no fucking way, you thought. Jimin was the sweetest boy you’d ever met, and, now more than ever, you wondered how the man in front of you could be his best friend. As if he could hear your thoughts and thought they were bothersome, too, he balled up your panties and brushed the material against your raw lips, reminding you that he hadn’t even kissed you, yet!

“Say, ‘ah’,” he spoke, patronizingly. You slowly opened up, allowing him to push the soaked panties onto your tongue, all the way to the back of your throat. He smiled, tapping your chin affectionately before pinching your mouth closed roughly, completely contrasting his previous actions. “Spit that out and we will have much bigger problems, Y/N,” he said, glancing down at his still-straining erection. Namjoon hooked his fingers up once he deemed you properly stretched, finding your g-spot quickly and eliciting a muffled moan from you. You clenched sporadically, practically ruining what he did to prepare you, tugging his unmoving fingers deeper into you.

“Pleath,” you tried to get out. Darkened eyes met your own, capturing you in his beauty, your own convincing him to rub his thumb across your swollen clit. Your thighs jumped once again, trying to close in on him despite your pleas. He didn’t allow you to, of course, and held you open against even your strongest attempts to get away.

“Such a pretty little cunt, isn’t it?” he asked, bending down and examining it further. “Every time you open your dirty mouth, I think about ruining it. About how red and swollen it’d look, dripping with my cum after I’m done with you.” At your choked gasp, he began jutting his fingers against your insides, stroking the silky, hot walls, almost impatiently. A muffled, distorted version of his name came from you, trying to grab at his wrist to get him to please, slow down, it’s too much, completely cut off when he stopped altogether.

“Don’t test me. One more wrong move and you’re not coming for two weeks,” he scolded, resuming once more when you nodded and placed your hands under your back. At the idea of him controlling your orgasms for the next two weeks, the promise of doing this again, your orgasm was closer to crashing onto you than ever before, the urge only getting stronger when he started sucking bruises into your thighs, biting them and uncaringly pulling at the skin with his teeth. His unoccupied hand came to rest on your lower stomach, right above your mound, pressing and holding you down. The realization that he was literally making you sit there and take it had another gush of arousal dripping onto him, immediately being thrust back into you at the force and pace he was going at.

Veins in his muscular forearms protruded with the effort it took to bring you this far, this quickly. Long, uncontrollable moans fell from you, the creeping feeling of the strongest orgasm you’d ever felt was now at its peak, hitting you all the way from your womb to the rest of your body. Namjoon was observing you, putting even more pressure onto your stomach, like he was forcing it out of you, forcing his orgasm out of you.

“Come, baby, that’s it, come for me, all over me, there you go,” he encouraged. Elegant and perfect fingers jackhammering the eye-watering spot inside of you until finally, finally, the dam broke before you could even try to stop it. Stars flitted in and out of your vision rapidly, your body feeling like it practically left itself and you were watching it convulse through some hazy, out of this world state. Your hips snapped and thrashed against Namjoon’s hold, trying to get away from the insane stimulation you were receiving.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, you’re okay, you did so well,” he praised. When you managed to open your eyes, you saw him wipe his entire arm against his jeans to rid himself of your juices. You closed them again, allowing him to reach over you and pull your completely tarnished underwear out of your mouth. The boneless feeling you had was receding, allowing you to bask in the bliss Namjoon caused.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he chuckled, next to you all of a sudden. You opened your eyes and instead of seeing Namjoon in front of you, it was Jimin.

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