
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6915529.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      방탄소년단_|_Bangtan_Boys_|_BTS
  Relationship:
      Kim_Namjoon_|_Rap_Monster/Reader
  Character:
      Kim_Namjoon_|_Rap_Monster, Kim_Seokjin_|_Jin, Min_Yoongi_|_Suga, Jung
      Hoseok_|_J-Hope, Reader
  Additional Tags:
      Daddy_Kink, Teacher-Student_Relationship, Alternate_Universe_-_High
      School, Smut, Loss_of_Virginity, Virginity_Kink, Namjoon_is_a_total
      tease, Teacher!Namjoon, Fluff_and_Angst
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-05-20 Updated: 2016-12-08 Chapters: 7/? Words: 33903
****** Candy is a Treat ******
by RGLK
Summary
     Teacher-Student relationship with sex god Namjoon.
Notes
     Loosely based off of the Marina and the Diamonds album Electra Heart
     (the titles of the chapters) and some aesthetic films set in a school
     environment that got my mind churning.
     Basically, its just a small project to indulge my little fantasies
     about Teacher!Namjoon. Other members eventually appear later on.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Prologue *****
Kim Namjoon was probably the only teacher at your school to strike a complete
balance between charming gentlemen and serious instructor. At full height he
reached approximately 181 centimeters tall. Take this; paired with a golden
complexion, a dimpled smile, swept back blond hair, and a rich velvet voice, it
was quite easy to see why a large majority of the female population at school
had fallen into love-lust with him. Mr. Kim currently taught level III English
on the second floor of your academy in room 220. Namjoon was hired as the
replacement for your old six months pregnant instructor and ever since he had
arrived the quarterly grades in the language department had improved greatly as
well as the attendance rate. His fans ranged from a wide perspective of ages,
from late tens to middle forties (the oldest teacher at school happened to be
Mrs. Cheng, who openly swooned over Namjoon at faculty meetings trying to
ignore her own dry, bitter marriage with her decaying husband).  The younger
admirers opted for desperate, lovesick notes that were sprinkled with romantic
adjectives in an attempt to look more mature; some even self-assured enough to
use the vocabulary that was taught during class.
Or if they had bolder personalities they made an effort to flirt and banter-
swatting at Namjoon’s arm or even resting a hand on top of a thigh-maybe even
invite him for a cup of coffee or dinner. He always declined, insisting he was
much more preoccupied with other things. Like you. Currently, you were on your
knees with your mouth wrapped around the head of his cock while above on his
desk he ‘graded papers’. Namjoon kept one hand firmly tangled in your soft
locks, the other rapidly circling wrong(?) answers on the latest given pop
quizzes. The door was locked tight and the shades had been drawn so no one
could catch a glimpse of the two of you participating in such a naughty event.
You were still quite new to blowjob techniques so each one of your movements
progressed in a gentle tentative manner. Namjoon was perfectly aware that you
had next to zero experience with members of the opposite sex (aside from a
handful of shaky dates that had ended with pecks on the cheek) and was normally
very patient with teaching you on what made him feel good, heaping praise
graciously to spur you on. As of right now, he was having none of it.
 
“Baby stop,” Namjoon commanded and you removed yourself gently from him, a
string of saliva trailing from his tip to your mouth as you did so. "Did I do
something wrong Daddy?” you blinked up at him slightly worried that you had
disappointed your most favorite person in the world. Namjoon chuckled, his deep
voice sending warmth directly to your already dripping pussy. “Can we try
something new kitten?” Namjoon cupped your chin while using his thumb to wipe
at the corner of your mouth. You nodded eagerly. You would participate in
anything if it meant that you could see your Daddy’s face in pure ecstasy.
Giving Namjoon pleasure had become one of your most favorite past times, aside
from him giving you enjoyment. Namjoon grabbed the back of your head and pushed
your face towards his cock again. You obligingly opened your mouth to
accommodate his large girth and length. He pulled you further until the tip of
his cock hit the back of your throat and then he stilled his movements.
Blinking up at him again, you waited for his next instruction like a good girl.
 
 Daddy simply smoothed a thumb across your cheek, ingraining the picture of you
wrapped nicely around him into his brain while exhaling a soft sigh. “So pretty
baby. You’re absolutely gorgeous like this,” his words made your entire body
flush with pride as you soaked up the praise like a sponge. Without any
warning, Namjoon tightened his grip and started to move your head repeatedly up
and down his shaft. Your jaw loosened as an attempt to adjust, but your amateur
throat had begun to let you down, ending with small coughs as well as a couple
of sputters.Namjoon didn’t stop, but instead increased his speed, tipping his
head back to release a long groan of bliss as your warm tongue ran along his
cock. “We’re going to get rid of that little gag reflex, right sweetheart? Such
a good girl, letting Daddy use your face like this,” he peered down to see your
expression; the sight of you choking and gasping for air around his dick urged
his release at a faster rate. Small, pearl-like tears bundled in your eyes,
falling down your cheeks as Namjoon continued his motions. To be fair, you were
only returning the favor since yesterday when you asked Namjoon if you could
ride his face as a reward for earning the highest score on your chemistry quiz.
Eventually, he couldn’t resist the built up pressure and finally tipped over
the edge. Daddy released his milky load into your mouth and you tried your best
to swallow it as best as you could just like he usually wanted. A small stream
of cum dribbled from your mouth and onto the floor accidentally and you
silently scolded yourself for letting your gift waste itself on the ground.
 
 Namjoon grabbed a tissue from the box on his desk and wiped your face as you
tucked him back inside his pants. “Is your jaw ok baby?” he helped you stand up
on your T-strap heels and smoothed down the pleats on your shortened red plaid
skirt. You panted in response; chest rising and falling as you sucked in air
and leaned your head into his touch when Namjoon began to stroke your hair. You
gave a small shake of the head and grabbed his other hand, pulling it towards
the hem of your skirt. “Now me daddy, its my turn,” but just as you had begun
to protest, the bell rang loud and clear signaling the end of lunch and the
return to scheduled knowledge. “You should go kitten. I’ll make it up to you
later, I promise,” Namjoon smiled giving you a final kiss before standing to
turn to his board and erase the old markings. You froze in place, standing firm
in your spot before speaking.
 
 “But I have to go home today.”
 
 “Huh? Oh, that’s right you can’t stay the night. Well, that just means the
reward will be greater then, doll.”
 
 Your eyes widened in excitement and a grin had formed out of eagerness. “Like
that Daddy?!”
 
 He turned his gaze towards you and lowered his voice to a rumble as students
began to pile in.“No kitten. I told you we should wait a while longer.”
 
 You pouted in response. The truth is that the two of you had never had sex
with each other before. It had been about seven months since your relationship
began and you had started to pester him around Christmas about taking your
virginity. This is where the gentleman in your Daddy had come out and insisted
on waiting for a special occasion before he would get rid of your virgin
status. It was absolutely frustrating for you; considering how you had to spend
everyday gazing at this perfect, gorgeous man as he lectured about sentence
structures and dialect and every once in a while, he would send a look of lust
in your direction that instantly soaked your panties. With a man as dominant as
Namjoon, it didn’t stop with the looks. His touches would always linger on your
back or neck when he went around the room to check if everyone was on task;
he’d leave little sticky notes on the inside of your notebook before returning
it to you (they spelled dirty little promises that had your imagination running
wild), even in the group tutoring sessions he’d always keep a hand on your
thigh under the table to rub soothing circles into (while making you wish that
his hand would climb a little higher). Sometimes during lunch Namjoon would ask
you to read to him; always a book from Russian literature and always in his
lap. Depending on his mood, he would already be hard by the time you sat down
or he would make you feel him get there. Either way, it always ended with him
slipping a hand into your panties while innocently asking why you had started
to stutter.
 
 And here’s the real kicker: he never let you come at school. Never. Not even
once. Back at his apartment, you were free to do so with his permission, but in
this building Namjoon always stopped right before you reached your peak. At
this point, your frustration had hit at its highest record, and the need for
release was grasped in desperate hands. But afterwards, he would spout the same
speech when you tried to make any kind of move later on.
 
 “This is a very important subject kitten, I want to make sure you’re ready.”
 
 “It’ll feel more special if we wait longer, please do this for Daddy.”
 
 “Daddy’s tired babygirl lets just go home.”
 
 In the past, you had tried to wait it out and figured anything that Daddy said
should be good for you. But nowadays him leaving you sexually frustrated during
school hours had started to become an irritable tick. You knew he loved teasing
for hours on end and seeing you beg, but this was just getting tiresome. So you
muttered a small ‘yes Daddy’, while looking at your feet and left the classroom
of your lover. Heading down the main hallway, and then taking a sharp left, you
narrowly missed the tardy bell and slipped into the last seat by the door.
While your surrounding classmates took out the required textbook and writing
utensils, you opted to set your head down on the wooden desk trying very hard
to ignore the stickiness between your legs. You clenched your thighs together
and grinded your teeth as a weak effort to steer your mind from doing anything
irrational after class ended. This wasn’t fair. Daddy always left you in a mess
while he got to enjoy the thought of you squirming and uncomfortably horny. And
of all days when you didn’t even have the chance to go back to his apartment so
he could finish what he started!
 
 And as class dragged on for what felt like half a century, certain thoughts
had begun to crop in your head. The naughty scenarios played freely in your
mind and you decided right then and there that you were going to do whatever it
took for Daddy to finally break and fuck you senselessly into his perfectly
fluffy sheets. Everything would roll out perfectly since your Daddy had a
certain weakness when it came to you wearing white. This time you were going to
win the game.
***** Primadonna Girl *****
Chapter Summary
     This all just kinda flowed out, I wasn't going to add much backstory,
     but I guess I am now. Some jealousy and typical teenage annoyances
     occur as well as a nice sex dream that doesn't end very well.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 
Truthfully you weren’t exactly sure how things had escalated towards this
event, but you weren’t complaining. It was so rushed, so blurry, the memories
all fogged into one glorious expanse of pleasure as Daddy ruthlessly pounded
into you while you writhed and shouted for him to go faster and harder;
eventually the words just melting into harsh little pants and gasps.
Later on, you would pat yourself on the back for finallyconvincing your Daddy
to be your first and only sexual experience, while also committing this moment
to permanent memory as you had been waiting for this your entire life. Namjoon
hitched your leg up higher to deepen his thrust; the subtle change made you let
out a high-pitched moan that caused him to grin and kiss your neck.
The number of hickies that he had left on your body has got to be the highest
count so far. A line of them trailing your body from your bellybutton to behind
your ear in a crooked streak of possession.  You didn’t count the ones on the
inside of your thighs, considering that they were layered on top of each other
in a dark purple mess. Regardless of past experience that clearly displayed
Namjoon as a man of dominance, he was paying extra attention in order to
heighten your experience.
When you arched your back, he slipped his hand underneath to hold you closer to
him; his kisses had also become more softer, not like the ones he gave you
between classes which were rough, bold physical representations that reminded
you who you belonged to. You adored his sudden change of personality, greedily
taking advantage of this situation to revel in Daddy’s indulgent touches
Just like anywhere else, Namjoon had forbidden you to come unless told so
otherwise, which did nothing to stop the tight coiling that just wound itself
even more as you resisted the urge to break. You opted for swallowing a moan
and tugged your hands through Namjoon’s hair to distract yourself.
And when that failed to do anything, you moved to his back, leaving bright red
marks in long stripes while he praised you for being a good little girl; just
before he panted out how close he was. Daddy had insisted that the two of you
come together, hence why you were actually trying to follow his commands
instead of purposefully disobeying the rule to rile him up.
At your amateur sex status, you didn’t think you could possibly deal with a
Namjoon that was simultaneously aroused and aggravated.
 
At least not yet.
 
Suddenly an out-of-moment thought cropped up in your head and tears sprung in
your eyes, clearing out the hazy enjoyment that had taken shelter in your
conscience.
 
“Oh shit, baby am I hurting you?”
 
Namjoon was clearly taken back, slowing his hips to an almost complete stop.
 
“Tell Daddy what’s wrong angel. Daddy’s right here.”
 
You sniffed softly in response, and Namjoon took this as a sign to start moving
again as you hadn’t used the given safe word.
 
“Da-daddy. You ripped my v-velvet d-dress-!” While you were speaking, Namjoon
had slipped a hand to rub at your clit, distracting you from the torn article
of clothing that was resting on the floor.
 
“Daddy will buy you a new one kitten. Let’s focus on something better.”
 
And he quickly regained his pace from before, sending you right back into
euphoria. Namjoon growled out an unintelligible phrase that sounded very close
to ‘please scream like that again’ as he quickly started to unravel. Just as
Namjoon had lifted the ban and ordered you to come right here right now, you
heard a high-pitched ringing out of nowhere.
 
********
 
……It was your alarm clock. As awful as it was to wake up alone in your bedroom
with a wetness between your legs and the pit of disappointment at the bottom of
you stomach, that was nothing compared to the sharp knock on the door, followed
by a loud bang that rang through the room completely scaring the life out of
your body.
Your mother gleefully entered the room, skipping towards the curtains to fling
them open dramatically while you shrieked and disappeared under the covers to
escape the light. The sun seeped through the blankets, lightening their
appearance that forced you to let out a large groan now that reality had sunken
in.
You were at home.
 
In your own bedroom.
 
Still a virgin.
 
And why wasn’t Mama at work?
 
The usually punctual woman marched over to your bed to throw the only barrier
off your body and cry out an over the top “Good morning!”. Instinctively you
curled into a ball, shielding your face from the bright rays with a soft
pillow.
“Get dressed sweetie, I wanna eat breakfast with you! We haven’t eaten a
morning meal together in ages! We should celebrate with some morning
champagne!”
Mama generally spoke in a tone that could only be described as flamboyant. She
often celebrated miniscule embarrassing events (like national pie day or the
first time you got your period), or she would hastily make decisions without
telling anyone about her plans. Like this impromptu visit on a Saturday.
It’s not as if she had to work, but after being ‘cooped up’ in the house for so
long she had applied for a job as a secretary for some company in downtown. By
the time your realDaddy had gotten wind of news, Mama was already at J.Crew
shopping for a new office appropriate wardrobe.
Regardless of the fact that she was kinda forgetful, made awful coffee, and
mixed up the names of everyone in the office, she still hadn’t been fired.
Mainly because she was always energetic/eager to work for long hours without
complaint/got the best catering businesses for employee lunch days.
Honestly, you were surprised they had allowed her to stick around for so long;
considering that on the first day when asked to introduce herself she had
exclaimed, “Oh, I’m not really here for the money, this is just something to
do!”. In spite of all this, you tried really hard to not get annoyed at the
little things like her all around optimistic attitude or her penchant for
buying ugly rugs.
But sometimes you couldn’t stop yourself from getting irritated. Because if
there was one thing that you absolutely didn’t like it was hearing your mother
ramble on about her outlandish ideas that glamorize youth. It was all she
really talked about with you, even when you were smaller. She would sit on a
concrete bench-only fleetingly watching you pick daisies and fashion them into
tasteful crowns, necklaces, etc.-while gazing eye-stalking young couples at the
local park.
 
“Someday you’ll have that, right sweetie?”
 
She’d point at some high-schoolers holding hands, sighing melodramatically,
while you ignored her to work on the daisies. You vowed stubbornly to never get
involved like any couple she ever pointed at and so far you had kept your
promise to your past three year old self.
As you got older, it only got worse. Mama started to single out boys who went
to school with you, constantly asking if they were single, then phoning their
mothers to ask them, which then led to setting up an awkward date. It took a
very long, drawn out, tear-filled (hers not yours) ‘discussion’ for her to
finally leave you alone to find your own suitor.
Sometimes you felt sorry for her. The guilt stemming from an odd point in your
head that wished it could be attracted to these young boys, but you
just......no. It also didn’t help that your father was five years younger than
her. In addition to fawning over complete strangers, she’d talk about her own
romance like a narrator who viewed the events from a situation.
Their first meeting is told verbally in the exact same format as a one-dollar
paperback romance novel. The wedding has been described so much its like its
own formula: the proposal + the size of the ring + the cost of the dress + the
cost of the wedding + interference from great grandma + the hilarious incident
of losing the ring = romantic comedy wedding scene. Yawn.
One of these days, Mama was going to provoke you to finally spell out
everything for her.
 
“I’m not interested in younger guys. I mean… curfews, bodysprays, doodles of
fighter jets, or whatever it is that they do. Why would I want to be with
someone whose brain isn’t fully developed?”
 
You might as well just push her off a balcony made of cringey teen novels.
Thankfully, one of your cousins had entered a ‘real’ relationship with some
seventeen-year-old dreamboat, which caused her to spend all of breakfast
gossiping. You sat silent, nodding at intervals and munching on blueberry
waffles that Moira had made.
Moira was the familial maid. She’d only worked here for less than a decade, yet
she had hopped around relatives houses more times than you had visited. She was
also the very best at keeping secrets, so she had become your only confidant.
Moira had managed to feign innocence when questioned about one of your uncles
many affairs, so you had figured the woman would never spill.
She was stationed at the sink; drying dishes while glancing over
sympathetically to offer you support. When she started working at your home
again, she questioned the lack of boyfriend like every other female with
relations to your mother. It was embarrassingly easy how you had immediately
cracked at one question.
 
“I don’t like boys.”
 
“Oh….so are you-?”
 
“No, I just don’t like boys .”
 
“Well, how old then dear?”
 
“Umm…less than 50 above 25? I guess.”
 
“And are you currently involved?”
 
*Bitter laughter*
 
“Teacher crushes, I suppose?”
 
“Yep.”
 
“No homewrecking. Understand?”
 
“Yes ma’am.”
 
“Should I tell your mother?”
 
“Do you want me written out of the will?”
 
“I suppose not.”
 
And that was the end of it. She never interfered or judged, she just lent an
ear whenever there was a discussion to be made. It was the best relationship
anyone could ever have with someone who washed their underwear. Mama, on the
other hand, was still chattering about the new boytoy.
You absentmindedly let out a “That’s nice,” as she complimented, for the third
time, about his champion lacrosse team, with his top skill teammates, how their
eyes are constantly lit up with youthful passion, rah rah rah. The little
sausages on your plate had been demolished, while your waffles had gotten cold,
and you were waiting impatiently for Mama to run out the door for her weekly
home furnishings shopping trip.
Luckily, in the next five minutes, she had glanced at the clock, shrieked, then
hurriedly grabbed her purse; only stopping to reapply perfume as she waved
goodbye.
 
Finally you were alone.
 
You ran into the sanctuary of your room to grab your phone and send a quick
text to Namjoon, saying that you’d be there in fifteen minutes. From the
schools position, you lived to the right while Namjoon lived to the left. As
you waited eagerly for his reply, you pondered over your choice of outfit. Most
importantly, what was going underneath.
While flipping through dresses, pausing briefly at the unripped velvet dress
from your dream, the phone buzzed angrily on the corner of the bed. Happiness
flooded your entire body as you tapped in the passcode, only to read the
message that sent your mood spiraling downwards into freezing temperatures.
 
Daddy ☺: Really sorry babygirl. Daddy has a blind date today. Be good and I’ll
bring you a treat ok?
 
Occasionally, Namjoon would begrudgingly accept dates from interfering friends
or family that weren’t happy with his constant response of “I’m too focused on
work to deal with relationships,” when asked why he wasn’t engaged or at least
with a steady girlfriend. It also distracted people’s attention away from the
idea that he could be currently involved with a student. Daddy would do
anything to make sure his connection with you would stay safe, and while you
were immensely pleased at his devotion, it didn’t stop you from getting just a
smidgeof a bit jealous.
All of his suitors were the same with different variations of hairstyles. Slim
gorgeous face, above 5’5, toned even body that came with an all grown up
wardrobe, with a degree in lawyering or doctoring or busninessing. They were
all perfectly nice women, but that was about it. They were all too perfect.
The first time Namjoon had gone out without explaining anything, you sat at his
apartment in hysterics, close to breaking down into a puddle of hopelessness.
By the time he had gotten home, you were sprawled on the rug, hugging a pillow
as you sniffed quietly. It had been your misunderstanding as you had seen him
chatting with an older, more elegantly grown female in the window of a nice
café. Her hands were encased around his, and Namjoon’s dimples were on full
display.
But afterwards, Daddy had merely scooped you in his arms, while reassuring you
that he adored all of the features of your body. From your cute stomach to your
soft thighs, he melted away any fear that he was going to desert you. Even with
all this, why did your blood still boil after you finished reading the text?
You contemplated calling him, but throwing a tantrum over the phone didn’t have
the same effect as it did in person. You didn’t want to wander around town for
fear of running into the date or your mother. And you didn’t want to wait at
Namjoon’s apartment, since the last time he invited his date inside to sober up
with coffee before ushering her out to drive home.
You spent that particular evening fuming; hidden in his bedroom while she
carelessly flung around double entendres while simultaneously begged for
Namjoon to give a tour of his apartment. So you opted for sulking on the bed
until Moira shooed you away so she could wash the sheets. As the maid quickly
shed the bed of its fluff, you sat on the floor pouting until she left.
Tired of nobody paying you attention, you pulled on the red (not torn into two)
velvet sundress and slipped into a vintage black and white pair of saddle
shoes; preparing yourself for a mindless day of childhood remembrance. Spending
time at the park hadn’t lost any of its appeal since you were younger. You
shoved some money into the pocket of your dress and purposefully left your
phone so you wouldn’t text Namjoon.
You were going to spend the entire day twisting daisies into jewelry and
feeding the little ducks at the pond. At this point, distraction was key. You
just hoped that there were only a miniscule amount of puppy-love, hormone
wasted teenage couples, whose only purpose in life was to remind you of how
different your love life was.


Chapter End Notes
     Next chapter is probably going to be a lot longer. Also Jin, Yoongi,
     and Hobie appear as well :)
***** Starring Role *****
Chapter Summary
     So I based Jin after one of my real teachers whose life literally
     revolves around other people's drama. Things get a little interesting
     and I kind of like the thought of mischievous Jin.
Chapter Notes
     Decided to separate this chapter into two, since it got so long.
     Hobie and Yoongi finally appear after this one. Any feedback is
     appreciated :)
            Namjoon considered Kim Seokjin to be an absolute pest. And an
incredibly nosy one at that. Considering that the pair had met in college,
(which gave Namjoon at least four years to get used to his friend’s irritating
habit of barging in on him while he was hooking up with a girl or his tendency
to not knock on the bathroom door), Namjoon still couldn’t believe how much of
a snoop Seokjin was.
            Regardless, he considered the handsome man a great friend and
companion; they often went running around the city together, a habit that had
also failed to quit from college days. Seokjin was the instructor of the
culinary classes at school, where he taught lust-ridden teenagers how to make
whole grain bread or toss stir-fry correctly.
            Like Namjoon, he was also immensely popular among the student body;
the only difference was his level of confidence, as Seokjin would remind
everyone of his ‘moneymaker’ and highlight his face with his hands. He also had
an odd way of saying ‘thanks’, instead opting for the phrase, “I knew that, but
I appreciate you pointing it out again.” He’d be kind of a dick if he weren’t
such a good cook.
            Seokjin also hid his deceptiveness behind the glowing charms of his
face. He’s almost like a vampire, but instead of blood he feeds on drama.
That’s the problem with Jin, he wasn’t into gossiping, but he preferred to
listen to other people’s problems, with the sole intention of enjoying the
story. According to him, the greatest tragedies occurred in high schools, not
the television screen.
            On this particular run, the city was swamped with a high-powered
rainstorm that lasted for exactly ten minutes, before disappearing completely
to let the sun continue its job. The air had increased its water content;
making the atmosphere have the texture of mashed potatoes. The two were soaked,
so they made their way back to Namjoon’s apartment for a shower that hopefully
came with a change of clothing if he didn’t piss off Namjoon; just like old
times.
            Namjoon flung the door open, immediately kicking off his drenched
sneakers and tearing off his headband to toss into the washing machine. The
keys swung pitifully in the doorknob, forgotten in the rush to be clean. He
shuffled off in the direction of his bedroom to grab clothes for Jin to borrow.
Currently, Seokjin had opened the door of the coat closet; right before he
remembered that his jacket was water-logged, he was about to close the door
when a flash of red caught his eye.
            Jin sank into a crouch to inspect this surprise, focusing on the
corner of the closet where a pair of high heels sat perfectly atop a shoebox,
amongst the crooked lines of oxfords, loafers, and boots. He picked up the
delicate shoe, examining its features. Shiny red patent leather, with a little
bow at the open toe of the shoe. Exactly three inches tall.
            Namjoon rounded the corner, almost dropping the shorts and t-shirt
he had grabbed for Jin. His buddy gestured in his direction almost mockingly,
            “You seeing somebody I don’t wanna know about?”
            But Namjoon had managed to sputter out an excuse on how the
previous tenant was a female; “ya know she probably left some stuff that I
forgot to throw out.” Seokjin scoffed at his flustered state, shrugging off
this scene; seeing that what Namjoon had said was the most likely situation.
            It didn’t stop there though. Afterwards, when Jin had finished
showering, while rummaging through the drawers for some hand lotion, he
stumbled upon a small box of makeup in the third drawer. The powder blue box
seemed to be covered in satin, which held a large amount of lip products (the
majority being of different tints of red), as well as some other items he
identified as mascara, liquid eyeliner, even a cutesy box of pink blush that
came in the shape of a heart.
            Jin’s mistress radar had definitely lit up. So he went directly to
the source: Namjoon’s bedroom. He spent at least seven minutes searching for
any clues, before hearing Namjoon’s voice down the hallway.
            “Hey man, you finished up in there yet?”
            Namjoon entered the room; surprised, yet not at the same time to
find his workmate creeping inside of his closet.
            “Jin, look this seriously has to stop. I mean, I don’t have
anything odd in there since all my porn’s digital. Just what are you
looking-..”
            Seokjin abruptly silenced Namjoon with a sudden low whistle. He
emerged from the closet, gently swinging a light pink bag from its satin black
ribbon handles in his face, the swirly script spelling out the lingerie
company’s name in a matching color.
            “Finally splurging on Agent Provocateur? What’s the occasion?”
            “Well, she definitely deserves it.”
            Jin grinned maniacally as Namjoon mentally slapped himself for
giving away waytoo much information for free to this meddlesome man.
            “Well, until you finally come to the conclusion that I’m a
perfectly trustworthy human being-“
            Namjoon’s eyes narrow at his statement while Jin’s express a let-
me-finish look.
            “-I’ll be here sitting on the edge of my seat.”
            “Wait. You’re not gonna probe me?”
            “I can be compassionate when I want Namjoon.”
            “Start showing that side more often. I was almost convinced you had
become a reincarnation of Lucifer.”
            “Harsh words from such a beautiful face.”
            “Shut up and go home already.”
            Seokjin gently placed the bag back in its ‘hiding spot’, before
giving one last annoying smirk to his friend. Namjoon rolled his eyes, ushering
him out of the apartment faster than necessary. Meanwhile, Jin was almost one
hundred percent sure he knew whom Namjoon was seeing.
            In addition to the fancy lingerie, the closet also held two
dresses, one in particular that had caught Jin’s eye. A couple months back, Jin
was on a date with his latest fling at the park, when he had spotted you;
skipping happily near the duck pond in an adorable cherry printed dress.
            As he walked home, he began his process of elimination; seeing that
he didn’t know many young girls older than four who still wore fruit prints or
that you were also Namjoon’s intern, so the chances of being right were pretty
solid. But Jin wouldn’t say anything.
            At least for now. He’d noticed how Namjoon suddenly seemed more
relaxed in manner and that you had also managed to pick up your grades when you
were once the least scholarly student he had ever met. Let them enjoy the
sunshine, before the nuclear bomb comes. Jin was ecstatic. This was going to
play out just like on the silver screen.
                                    ******
             You wanted to cry out in frustration. You were irritable; skin
practically on fire, itching to just run across the street instead of waiting
for the little red light to switch to glowing green. After waiting for Saturday
to finally turn into Sunday, your family had insisted on attending some
extraordinarily long charity fundraiser two hours away in another city.
            Needless to say, you were angered at having to spend the day
wasting inside some stuffy ballroom while the grownups discussed work related
topics. They basically left you to those vulture children, insisting that you
‘make nice’ with people your own age. But the evening turned around eventually.
The bar was lenient on letting you have as many drinks as you wanted, despite
the tell tale of baby fat on your cheeks. To them you could have been twelve or
seventeen, nobody really knew. Also, some really loud aristocratic aunt left
her French-imported cigarettes on one of the tiny glass tables; which you stole
to take outside to entertain yourself for the rest of the night.
Daddy was at home, so his rules didn’t apply here, did they? Namjoon drank, but
he absolutely despised smoking. Truthfully, you wholeheartedly agreed with him
on the dangers of cigarettes and how disgusting it was.
But after having watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s on a loop the summer before
freshman year had you finally given in to the curiosity of having a ‘grown up’
habit. Plus, Audrey Hepburn had looked so chic puffing away on that tall
cigarette holder while she chatted with her party guests.
It’s not like he’d ever find out so why not? Nevertheless, by the time Monday
had rolled around, you were dying for contact with Daddy. The weekends were
meant for spending time at his apartment. Usually, Daddy diligently worked
while you baked cookies; waiting for him to take a long break so you could read
in his lap or watch a movie together.
You generally slept over at Namjoon’s at least three to four times a week,
(your mother never giving any real thought to this, since she was too busy to
care and had accepted the flimsy excuse of having friends that liked to study
late into the night; Moira had come around when you gave her a gift basket full
of nice bath bombs and other pampering products), but Sundays were different.
You’d wake up nicely snug in his arms then take a shower together (that would
be filled with plenty of kisses), before driving to another town to have brunch
in a chic little café. Afterwards, you’d go to museums or open gardens; ending
the day nicely with ice cream and a bookstore visit.
Namjoon always got you some sort of gift during these trips. The items ranging
from pretty dresses, to dainty charms, or little toys. Weekends reenergized the
life that had been previously drained away by schoolwork and society’s
expectations of finding a suitable, appropriately aged boy to fall in love with
(read: Mama’s rambling).
The sky overhead was a flat, blank span of grey clouds drizzling rain lightly
onto the pedestrians below.
 
This light is taking f-o-r-e-v-e-r.
 
Finally, the colors switched and you race-walked across the road, talking a
right as fast as your new light pink ballet slippers could take you. Clearly
they were in direct violation of your schools ‘all black shoe’ rule, but then
again, your school had basically given up in terms of your ‘uniform’.
As grateful as you were to attend such a wonderfully, well kept institution; in
exchange they had written a set of dramatically tedious laws.
 
    * No skirts three inches above the knee
    * Only black and navy socks or stockings allowed
    * The heel of a shoe must be below 2 inches
    * All shoes must be black
    * Absolutely no makeup
    * The upper portion of the uniform must be within these guidelines (see
      section C for more details) Code for body shaming skip this section!
You might as well as have defaced church property, since the punishment for
‘sinning’ was as equally ridiculous. Instead of jail time, they doled out
lectures about remaining in a professional environment until someone passed out
due to sheer boredom.
            It wasn’t just you, other girls rolled up or had their skirts
shortened, administration just seemed to enjoy your misery until last year when
they had decided to target other students.
            You entered the school, slightly shivering; but you chose to ignore
the feeling and head straight up to the second floor. You passed the stairwell,
almost crashing into Mrs. Cheng (her mood suddenly sour due to your hurried
nature, as well as your outfit), then glided past rooms 201-208. Pass this
hallway, take a left, walk straight, turn left again, 217,….218,….219,…. 220!
            You pause in the doorway of your Daddy’s classroom, taking the time
to admire the handsome man. Namjoon was hunched over his desk; pacing his
writing as he scribbled down today’s lesson plan. His toned physique filled his
white button down shirt very nicely and he was wearing the silk navy polka dot
tie you had gotten him for Christmas.
            Unconsciously, you had allowed yourself to lean against the doorway
in a relaxed, calm manner. This isn’t what you had come to do. You moved
yourself into the room, shutting the door tight, then turning the lock swiftly.
You tossed your bag onto a desk, before stalking over to Namjoon’s desk, where
he had finally looked up at the sound of leather hitting wood.
            Daddy looked serene, a soft smile on his lips as he moved to push
himself up from the chair. His legs had barely left the cushion before he was
pushed back into the seat; a stunned expression replacing the previous one. You
didn’t allow any retaliation as you quickly straddled his lap; legs on either
side of his body, before looping your arms around his neck and crushing your
mouth against his.
            Namjoon stiffened slightly only to relax to kiss you back, figuring
he’d let you have control this one time. You were with Daddy now, the way
things were supposed to be.  Your lips left his; only to move onto his jawline
and then his neck in a trail of faded red lip prints. You’d always love seeing
your lipstick adorn Daddy’s tanned skin.
            Eventually you settled down; leaning your head into his shoulder in
a tight embrace and relaxing your smaller body on top of his. You quietly
breathed in his scent, a clear balance between clean laundry and a light regal
scented cologne he always used. The nerves in your body were resting
comfortably, as you shut your eyes.
            Namjoon moved a hand to gently stroke your hair.
            “How’s my babygirl this morning?”
Your heart swelled at the sound of his baritone voice this early in the
morning. Carefully, you removed yourself to peck at his cheek in a response to
his question.
            “Do you remember the treat I promised you darling?”
            Namjoon had slid his hands up the back of your skirt to rub gently
at your inner thighs, causing you to squirm slightly. You slowly nodded in
response to his question as you clutched his shirt in your hands. He grinned at
your quick response to his movements and inched up to teasingly rub at a
forming wet spot on your panties.
            “Daddy always keeps his promise doesn’t he baby?”
            “Mmm-hmm.”
            “Well, I was thinking that maybe just this onetime you could pick
out your own treat.”
            You pushed back against his chest into an upright position.
            “Anything Daddy?”
            Namjoon let out a sigh.
            “Almost anything darling.”
            “Daddy I want you.”
            “I said almost.”
            “Noo, please daddy? I’m ready! I really really wanna do this with
you, I know I’m ready!”
            Namjoon tilted his dark eyes to look directly into your own
anticipating orbs. His stern gaze freezing you into holding your breath;
waiting for his response.
            “No.”
            Your mouth scrunched into a pout, letting your throat release a
whine of discontent.
            “You said I could pick!”
            “Baby, I’m-“
            “That’s not fair! That’s not a promise!”
            The room had fallen silent. Daddy was no longer smiling, instead
one of his eyebrows had quirked upwards, his face set in a look of disbelief;
as if he was saying are you done throwing your tantrum?
            You swallowed, blinking back those pearls before they spilt over.
            “Do you not want to have sex with me?”
            Namjoon’s face quickly converted to shocked. But just as he opened
his mouth to reply there was a sharp, rapid knocking against the wooden door.
Namjoon jumped slightly at the noise, before turning to you, the expression
still trapped on his features.
            You lifted yourself off his lap to allow him access to the door
before you settled back into the chair; tucking your legs underneath and
leaning against the backrest entirely. Namjoon scurried to the entrance; head
still spinning, only to open it to reveal Seokjin who was smiling way too hard.
            “Do you have a copy of Odysseus?”
            “Jin you teach culinary classes.”
            “I’m trying something new. Do you have it or what?”
            Namjoon resisted the urge to roll his eyes and walks towards his
bookshelves to grab the copy of the Greek tale. Seokjin stood patiently by his
desk; turning his head to look directly at your sulking figure before giving
you a wink.
            You turned your head crossly. What was that for?
            “Here. Don’t lose it, don’t get any weird food stains on it.”
            “Lucky for you we’re making strawberry jam today.”
            “Also…? You’ve got a little…” Jin gestured to Namjoon’s face, his
eyes shining mischievously as your Daddy realized he still had your lip prints
on his skin. Namjoon grabbed a tissue off his desk, furiously scrubbing at the
marks while shaking his head as Jin laughed his way out of the classroom,
shutting the door behind him.
Namjoon dropped the tissue in the trash, his skin slightly red from the
pressure he was using. Your Daddy turned to face you, running his fingers
through his hair while letting out another sigh. You glowered at him from your
seat.
To add more to this scene, the bell had just decided to ring right then, and
the two of you continued your staring match, refusing to break away.  That is
until Namjoon noticed that your shirt was see-through.
            “Baby, why’s your shirt wet?”
            “It was raining just a little bit.”
            Your answer had more bite than necessary, but Namjoon chose to
ignore it.
            “Here, put this on.”
            Namjoon went into the supply closet, only to emerge a second later
with one of your navy blue cardigans. You’d probably left it in Namjoon’s car
days ago. He helped you slip it on, even going so far to button it up. Subtly,
your gaze softened as you realized that he had even washed it.
            “You should go kitten. Don’t wanna be late.”
            Daddy let his eyes linger on your face for a small sad moment,
before pressing a kiss to your forehead. You grabbed your bag; hightailing out
of the suffocating area. Deliberately passing by your first period, your feet
carried you downstairs towards the library.
            When the desk lady had her back turned, you sneaked in quietly;
ducking behind the tall shelves in order to move towards the back. The very
back right corner held the most enormous comfiest chair and was also a perfect
hiding spot for daydreaming/skipping class.
            Your shoes were kicked off your feet before you settled into the
chair sideways, feet dangling off the massive armrest while you grabbed the
single pillow to prop your head on the other armrest. The world outside was
still a dark, dreary gray; you head tilted upwards to look at the glass dome
ceiling.
            You lifted your arms to your nose inhaling Namjoon’s calming,
addictive scent. And as the minutes ticked by, you allowed yourself to remember
a time where there was no Namjoon, a time where there was no one to drive you
absolutely mad in the greatest way possible.
***** Bubblegum Bitch *****
Chapter Summary
     Sorry I haven't updated in a while, got stuck in a block but this
     chapter is super long so brace yourselves. Highly recommend a glass
     of whatever beside you, but that's up to you. Next chapter will be up
     sooner. Anyhow, dance teacher Hoseok, music teacher Yoongi, and a bit
     of Jin. Namjoon appears at the end for a little, but the next chapter
     is more on him, this one's more of a flashback really.
Remembering a first crush is always a very easy thing to do. Everyone always
manages to recall clear memories of love at its beginning stages. The same
thing had happened to you when you were at the teeny age of ten years old. He
was around your father’s age. An old college friend who used to work as a free-
lance writer, but now spent his days traveling around the world. He was a very
charming man; using his worldly experience tactfully, as he always knew what to
say to make anyone feel good.
            Your infatuation increased wildly when he had offered his lap as a
seat during a party for your father’s birthday. It didn’t take any hesitation
to climb into his chair and position yourself comfortably back against his
chest. The newspaper was occupied in one hand while the other held a cigar. His
voice softly read out the news from European countries, causing you to almost
fall asleep contentedly as he spoke. That’s when you heard it, loud and clear
in the middle of the night.
            “God, I hope they get together.”
            The room erupted into chuckles; the man you were currently snuggled
into even had a laugh at your father’s observations of his old pal and his
daughter bonding together.  It was a harmless joke to all of the guests, but
for you it was a pretty monumental moment for your desires.
            You wanted to be with a man, not just some silly boy. From then on
it spurred larger and larger. Your school life was just fine, until the middles
school age dawned upon you and everyone had simultaneously decided that they
had the hots for each other practically overnight. Your so-called ‘friends’ no
longer discussed anything besides members of the opposite sex or diet tips, so
they had become quite boring in the long run. You had ditched them when they
all started getting boyfriends, while increasingly badgering you to do the same
so you could ‘catch up’ and ‘finally understand real adult feelings’.
            It was all lust buried underneath clumsy make-out sessions,
handholding in the hallways, and ‘study’ dates that quickly led to the guys
making it to third base, only to brag about their conquests the next day. That
wasn’t sweet or romantic. It was gross unrestrained hormones. So you decided to
jump around from group to group, attempting to make nice with everyone in the
hopes that you would find someone who’d understand your ideas, while also
respecting your choice to remain virgin pure. You didn’t want your first time
to be on a suede couch, while the television blared in the background, with his
mother more than a couple feet away at the neighbor’s house.
            A fifteen-minute hookup that ultimately ended in relationship
sinking as well as having more than ten people knowing about your weekend.
            Sounds swell.
            Even if you had managed to overhear another girl stating, “I’m more
into older guys,” she usually followed with an example of a high school aged
celebrity, to that you thought ‘no that’s not really older, that’s just three
years’. So this is where you had ended up with a practically non-existent
dating history and an insatiable desire to find an experienced loving man. But
you wanted to stay smart; it couldn’t be just anyone with a handsome face.
            Your teacher crushes began in high school, since you had decided
you could never be attracted to the cruel educators at your previous one. It
had started with Jung Hoseok, the bubbly energetic dance instructor who had
been tasked to take your tour group around the school during freshman
orientation. You were quite annoyed that day. The change in uniforms had put a
rather large damp on your personal clothing choices. While middle school was
hell on earth, at least they made use of a cute pleated plaid skirt. The new
school introduced a flimsy blue and white seersucker skirt that was hideously
atrocious. It came all the way down to the knees, had an odd frumpy silhouette;
also it did absolutely nothing to provide warmth at all.
You plotted in your head about reusing the middle school one, only to have your
problems dissolve in your head at the sight of him bounding up to the group.
His smile was genuine, seeing that his eyes were sparkled with a rare kind of
happiness that’s only portrayed in movies. It had been so easy to be smitten
with his cheery laughter and overly perky personality, as he dragged you guys
all over the place cracking jokes to reassure you that this place wasn’t as
serious as described beforehand.
Hoseok was pure sunshine, the kind that gently illuminated late spring mornings
on the weekends. He was also only twenty-five years old, giving you a ten-year
age gap. A solid decade separated the both of you. How nice would it have been
if you actually got together with him? You wanted nothing more than to kiss him
right there in front of everyone. The tour around campus had felt so short; you
wanted to listen to him talk forever. And so your first infatuation began. You
didn’t even take dancing lessons, but Mr. Jung had no problem with letting kids
eat lunch in his office, as he often enjoyed the company.
During your first semester of freshman year, you would go into that cramped
little room with a bagel and some tea, sitting on the armrest of the couch
since there was no more room left on actual chairs. You didn’t say much at
these little gatherings; instead you paid attention to the man at behind the
desk, chewing his lunch while laughing at any joke whether good or bad.
Hoseok’s dimples were the obsession of every person who had a crush on him.
They appeared every time he smiled or chewed, causing people to question how he
could be so cute, yet have that jawline. Once, you had seen a student of his
ask to touch them, defending her proposal with “It’s a weird thing to ask, but
can I?”. He had willingly let her so easily, envy burning a hole through your
heart as you watched a couple feet away.
But all silly little high school affections must come to an end. Your last day
inside that teeny office had been a few weeks or so before winter break. One of
his students that he was more close to had asked him if he was interested in
younger or older girls. Normally, you tuned out your classmates questions in
favor of listening to just Hoseok, but this one had your ears ready for an
answer. Hopefully a good one.
And he had laughed before responding,
“I should definitely say older. I mean my girlfriend’s at least four years
older than me.”
Your mind flat lined so suddenly you almost checked to make sure you were still
breathing. Reality check: you had forgotten that he could have been in an
actual relationship. Your mind flashed to Moira’s instructive words.
Well, I would’ve definitely considered homewrecking if he hadn’t just said that
he wasn’t interested in girls like me.
You most certainly weren’t hungry anymore. The bagel was thrown into the
garbage as you exited that suffocating box for the last time, your legs
carrying you to the roof. The world would eventually collapse into destruction,
why wasn’t it happening now? Hoseok would’ve made you happy. You knew that with
everything in your body. Even though the weather channels boasted freezing
temperatures, it didn’t stop you from heading out onto the top. Nobody was dumb
enough to come out here, which was perfect considering how you wanted to be
alone for a very long time. You lit up a cigarette, puffing slowly to try to
calm your nerves from sporadically frizzing out.
Audrey had won again. You just wished that your life ended the way movies
always did.
                                     ****
            Your absence wasn’t unnoticed. You managed to bump into Mr. Jung a
couple days into the new semester in the hallways on your way up to the roof.
His smile was still blinding, his dimples displayed endearingly.
            “Hey! How come you don’t visit me anymore? Was I getting too boring
for you?”
Mr. Jung prodded your arm jokingly, but you shrugged off his playful banter
easily.
“I found a better place to eat.”
Your tone was cold, but he didn’t seem to notice in the slightest bit. You
weren’t lying; you had found somewhere else more valuable to your time.
“Well, if you ever want to, I’m always happy to chat. I definitely would’ve
talked to you more if I knew you weren’t going to pay me anymore attention.”
Over winter break, you had discovered how child-like Hoseok could be and
ultimately decided that you wanted someone more serious, more suited to their
age. You’d been tricked, since you hadn’t noticed until now that that man was a
boy trapped in a grown up body. When you came back from your ‘vacation’ (two
weeks of movie marathons for you), it didn’t take you very long to find a
replacement for Jung Hoseok. You found him on the very first day back, in
second period, located on the left side of the music hall.
Min Yoongi was the perfect candidate for a serious relationship. He was on the
shorter side, but that was all right, you’d been meaning to order those little
jelly shoes you’d seen all over the place. You’d trade in all of your heels if
it meant being able to be with Yoongi. His attitude was such a major difference
from the pure angel Hoseok. Min Yoongi had shown up late to his very own class
on the first day back. Messy grey hair shoved under a black knit beanie, small
round glasses (real or fake?) that were slightly fogged from the cold sat on
his nose, while an enormous scarf swallowed his neck; providing a cushion for
support.
His apology was that of a college student who’d overslept “Traffic was harsh
and the coffee place was swamped. Sorry kids.” And his overall demeanor
screamed ‘I’m still half asleep so if we could keep this short and quiet that
would be great, thanks.’ He was chic in that rebellious underground kind of
way. You’d never forget that outfit in a million years. Worn-in leather jacket,
ripped skinny jeans despite the cold, a thin, yet warm black sweater that
showed how small his waist was. You wanted to feed him little treats ever since
he had stretched during class, showing off a cute pale tummy.
He was the guy the girls in California sang about. The guy with the leather
jacket who’d hug you from the back as you watched the stars together. Honestly,
you had spent so much time tending to your fantasies, that you didn’t even
notice that he was standing right in front of you, until he snapped his fingers
in your face to return your thoughts to reality.
“Your name princess?”
Your body instantly straightened at the little pet name, while you forced
yourself to look into his eyes and answer him properly. He gave you a petite
smile, then went back to checking the roll. You hung onto every word spoken,
taking note that he didn’t give anyone else in the class a nickname. Thinking
back on it now, you’d never realize how shamefully fast you’d fallen for
someone you’d known for ten minutes. But at that moment you really didn’t care,
you just wanted Yoongi to call you princess again. Hoseok never really paid
attention to you considering how you didn’t take his class, but you were one of
Yoongi’s students, therefore automatically making you a concern of his.
            It was probably all in the leather jacket. Watching Grease and
Crybaby one too many times had probably ignited that cutesy little dream of
having a bad boy fall in love with you. But you figured it would be different
this time. And it was for quite a while. He just seemed too cool to be an
actual educational instructor. The day started with a simple blasé intro to the
course, followed by a very brief overview of the syllabus, and then he finished
the class forty-five minutes early by announcing that he was going to work, so
everyone was free to do whatever.
            “Don’t break any of the equipment, but if you do, I will destroy
your life.”
            Yoongi flashed the room his unique gummy smile, making the entire
class chuckle nervously, trying to figure out if he was dead serious or not. He
slipped behind his metal desk, making himself comfortable in that large rolling
chair. He slid his headphones on, before clicking a pen to position over a
notepad. After a few beats, you watched his hand go into overdrive, words
spilling out all over the hidden pieces of paper.
            The rejects were thrown across the room into the garbage, and you
mentally made a note to find a way to pick at least one out of the trash
without making it seem weird. Realizing, that you’d been staring at him for at
least ten minutes, you pulled out a book, pretending to read while your
imagination wandered into a wistful trance.
            Wearing his leather jacket. Enjoying a cup of hot chocolate
together. Snuggling on a worn couch, while the snow piled up outside. Talking
about long road trips.  Putting pretty flower pins on the lapel of his jacket.
Knitting him a new beanie out of soft wool yarn.
            The last one seemed doable in a week or so. You doodled a little
map of the craft shops you knew on the way home to find the perfect shade of
red, because red would definitely stand out against his pale skin. The bell had
rung a couple of seconds ago, but you were too busy counting the rest of your
Christmas money in your head to calculate the cost of your gift. A pencil
suddenly tapped your forehead, causing you to cover your work quickly with your
arms. A frowning Yoongi stood above you, a worried crease crossing his own
forehead.
            “Are you going to be doing this constantly? Cause if you are, I
think it’d be better if you took a different class.”
            Embarrassment streaked your face as you fumbled to collect your
things into your bag.  You squeaked out a small apology, promising to pay
attention during lessons, which caused the man in front of you to snicker at
your movements.
            “Calm down princess. Take your time, I was only joking.”
            His hand had grasped your wrist gently, almost as if he was
checking your pulse beat. He walked you to the door of the classroom, your skin
suddenly tingly from the contact. Yoongi ushered you out, hand on the small of
your back, wishing you a happy first day back. You gave a small smile back,
along with a tiny wave, before turning yourself in the wrong direction towards
your next class. Heart blooming madly in your chest, you reflected on his raspy
morning voice as you headed towards a section of classes designated for
upperclassmen. Unknown to you, Yoongi also had you in his thoughts as he sat
down for a minute before a flood of new faces would fill the room.
            Ahh, so cute. Wonder what that map was for?
            It didn’t take you very long to warm up to your teacher. Yoongi was
the type of instructor who seemed to enjoy confusing his students by constantly
switching his demeanor. He could go from this chill, cool persona to strict
authoritative in the blink of an eye. You took pleasure in being the only
person who he showed his sweet, charming side to no matter what day it was.
Always speaking in a soft tone. Asking if you needed help or a break.
Questioning your mood, wondering if you were feeling well. Insisting that you
stay after class for a chat. Clasping his hands around one of yours, and
staring into your eyes as you answered his questions of how his teaching was
today.
The days flew by in a blur of melting snow, cool spring sunshine, and a new
hair color for your darling music teacher. Mint green, the color of that sticky
ice cream with delicious bits of dark chocolate. One day you had even given him
a small toy plushy of a mint chocolate cone, causing him to look at you oddly
before his face changed to a grin. Your relationship with Yoongi had definitely
escalated better than the one with Hoseok. He really seemed to enjoy talking to
you, always offering time after school if you weren’t doing anything better.
            It had taken you three days to make that red beanie out of the
softest wool you could find, but you spent nearly a month fretting over when to
give it to him, while wondering if he would reject it due to inappropriateness
or if he didn’t like the color. Luckily, Yoongi was beyond ecstatic to receive
your handmade hat, pulling you into a hug as thanks for your thoughtful
gesture. At that moment, desire washed over your mind, causing you to press a
quick peck to his cheek.
            Mr. Min pulled back, eyes stunned, while you apologized insincerely
profusely for your behavior. He had presented the opportunity to you so easily,
how could you not have taken that chance? If it was your last, it certainly
wasn’t regrettable. His scent was a combination of spicy coffee mixed with the
faint smell of his shampoo. Then again, you certainly didn’t expect
reciprocation. Yoongi pulled you in close again, smiling cheekily; whispering
into your ear that you could only do that after school hours. The comment
produced an afterglow on your face that lasted for an entire week.
            After you gave him that beanie, Yoongi had invited you to have
lunch in his room whenever you wanted. Just you and him. Alone for forty-five
minutes. Those sessions seemed to last for a blip of time. The two of you
talking about anything that popped in your minds. Truthfully, you just loved
listening to his voice. It almost never rose above a low, rumble, unless he was
scolding a careless student, but the sound of it was entirely addictive. In a
small period of time, the both of you had become quite close. You knew about
his previous history as a producer for some company in another city, after
doing that for a couple of years he decided he needed something new to
challenge him, so he took up a teaching position. Yoongi in return, had
listened to your dreams, taking note of how often you talked about long road
trips; traveling far far away to a place where nobody would know your name.
It needed to be like the opening of an old Hollywood film. Dressed in a pretty
trench coat with a colorful scarf tied around your head to protect yourself
from the slight drizzle in the air. Only one suitcase in hand as you stood at
the train stop, listening for the sound of its arrival. The thrill of escaping
to a place with a new atmosphere.
            “Wouldn’t it be easier if we just took my car?”
            “It wouldn’t be very fitting.”
            “Are you always willing to take the impractical choice for a
dream?”
            “That’s the best part of living out fantasies.”
           The little jokes he made about your pastel visions were endless.
You’d feel him shake his head as you snuggled closer to his chest, rubbing your
back as he muttered words like ‘silly romantic’ or sigh about those ‘hopeful
aspirations’.
You thought he was only trying to put a comedic touch on the conversation, but
you never picked up on the sign that he actually thought you were dramatically
unrealistic for your age. You and Mr. Min had a subtly flirty student-teacher
connection in the public eye. Then again it was more like Yoongi finding your
weak spots, and then pulling them while he was teaching. Watching your
reactions was one of his greatest sources of entertainment. It probably
appeared playful to others, but you had a certain feeling in the back of your
head that it was more than that.
            Yoongi would often play the piano with you; slipping behind your
body to place his hands on top of yours, the cold rings on his fingers making
you shiver slightly at the touch of metal. He’d tease you, showing off that
darling gummy smile and ask if you were nervous around him. No matter how often
he did it, the action made you into a mess of a person, as you shook your head
trying to deny his effect on you.
            Those rings were very soothing in a way. At night, under the
sheets, you’d think of those talented hands, running down your body in that
same teasing manner during class, as you kept a hand between your thighs to try
to relieve yourself of the built up tension. Yoongi was all you ever thought of
nowadays. During one of those long endless conversations, he lost control over
his bearings, leaning in for a delicate kiss on your pert mouth. You responded
eagerly, kissing him back in earnest. He broke away first, taking in your
flushed appearance only to answer playfully,
            “It’s after school right?”
            You simply nodded, before pulling him in for another one. He tasted
exactly like hazelnut creamer and pure bliss. Your first kiss. Taken by the one
and only Min Yoongi. Miracles do exist, don’t they?
Despite all of the suggestive banter and the fact that he had initiated first,
Yoongi had never stated outright what he wanted from you. Judging from the
fluffy make out sessions, you knew he was interested, but perhaps just wanted
something simple. He never really acknowledged how you had wanted something
serious. Then again, his tongue had kind of distracted you from asking him what
his intentions were. In those moments, there never seemed to be time to talk
about those topics, as you both opted for conversations about the past or
future, but never the present.
            In spite of your impatience, he wouldn’t give the answer until
right before school let out for another winter holiday.
Currently, it was spring, and the weather decided to prove to everyone that it
had the ability to flood the planet whenever it wanted to. The rain prevented
you from walking home, so Yoongi had offered a ride in his car. Although, the
gesture was very kind, it had proved to be kind of useless, since all the roads
leading to your house were blocked due to the water that had accumulated there.
Mama had called, instructing you to go to a hotel or stay at a friend’s house
until the showers had calmed down. You weren’t sulking for long, as Yoongi had
offered for you to stay over once he noticed your pout. The car had stopped at
a particularly long red-light, tinting the inside of the car with a slight
pinkish hue; even Yoongi’s skin had turned to blush.
            “Really?”
            He scoffed at this, shaking his head while chuckling.
            “I wouldn’t just leave you like that.”
           And you believed every word of that sentence. You scooted closer
over to his side, leaning your head on his shoulder while his hand reached for
yours, intertwining his fingers with yours. Safe and wanted. Two things you
thankfully got to experience with this wonderful man.
His apartment was small, yet open. There weren’t any rooms except for the
bathroom, and the place was surprisingly tidy despite his bachelor status. The
only thing that particularly stood out to you in that tiny box was his enormous
desk, which held an impressive amount of equipment, as well as random notepads
and some coffee cups. That is until you got to the kitchen.
            “Wow. You really like Kumamon.”
            “He just looks stupid.” He turned his head to the side as he spoke,
avoiding your curious gaze.
            Yoongi set a kettle on the stove, turning to rummage in the
cupboard for the hot chocolate mix while you studied the Kumamon salt & pepper
shakers by the sink and the hand towel. This little mascot was noticeably
sprinkled around the apartment in small doses.  A plushy by the couch, some
stationary bits around the kitchen table, the bathroom even held a Kumamon soap
dispenser. You fixed your gaze on his back, as he stood on his tip-toes to
reach for the marshmallow candies.
            Never judge based on looks. The man with the intimidating stare and
the ripped skinny jeans might be obsessed with adorable Japanese mascots. Also
he might be small, but never pick on his size. You made the mistake of giggling
when Yoongi managed a slight hop to grasp at the package. He turned back to
raise an eyebrow at you. It’s not as if you were any taller, then again it
never hurt your pride to use a foot stool. Yoongi moved his eyes to glare at
the tittering kettle.
            You stepped away from the sink in order to wrap your arms around
his waist to press kisses on his neck; muttering your gratitude for his
attempts at making your favorite hot chocolate perfectly. Next thing you knew,
you were both settled in a rather large leather rolley chair, facing the
several computer monitors as Yoongi opened up a demo that he was on. He snuck a
couple of sips from the mug in your hand, the soothing beat of his passion
making you sleepy. When the cup was drained of its contents, you toddled over
to the couch to lie down, not wanting to bother Yoongi while he was perfecting
the track.
            When you woke up it was still night, the darkness comfortable
instead of frightening for once, as well as a pleasurable sensation settled
between your thighs. A small gasp emerged from your mouth as another shot of
that wonderful feeling rocketed throughout your body, causing you to grip the
sheets. This was entirely new and immensely enjoyable. The blanket was ripped
off to reveal your Yoongi: hair ruffled, cold rings leaving imprints on your
skin, enjoying his late night snack. He moved his head to give you a small
smile in the dark, leaving you to whine at his abandonment.
            Yoongi instead moved to pin his body over yours, reaching to bite
gently on your ear.
            “Does my princess want more?” his words set every nerve in your
body into a frenzy, your face heating up at his husky voice.
            You responded by kissing him fervently, you wanted him to
completely ravish you, please you like no one else had.
            “So that’s a yes?” Yoongi let out a low chuckle after you had
broken apart. His hands moved much too slow for your liking; removing your
button down shirt in an unhurried manner, pulling the zipper of your skirt
gradually before tossing it to the floor. Your bra was snapped off easily, and
you didn’t have time to fully register that you were completely naked for the
first time in front of a man when Yoongi placed his mouth on a nipple. Tongue
swirled around the hardened nub, while his hand played with the other to pinch
slightly.
            He moved to the other breast while soft moans and tiny pants
escaped your mouth. Pleasure completely consumed your mind as you let your body
release into his touches. Yoongi knew exactly what to do. Biting, sucking, and
kissing all around your neck and collarbones, until he couldn’t hold back
anymore. His head returned back to your thighs where he tested your reactions
with a small lick. Then, he buried his face into your wet pussy, latching onto
your clit before taking that talented tongue of his to lap up your sweet juice.
            It was only a matter of time before you started to grind against
his face, but that was put to a stop when he squeezed your hip as a warning.
Yoongi pulled away again. This time, you felt tears at the back of your eyes
when the frustrated whine swept through the room. He only let out another
chuckle and you heard the sound of him removing his shirt in a single movement.
The sound of his belt caught your attention, causing you to crawl over to him
on your knees to halt his action.
            “Wait….I don’t think I’m ready for…all of it.” Your voice softened
to barely a whisper at the last syllable. This was utterly humiliating. Yoongi
was the perfect person to take your virginity, why’d you have to reject him?
But then again, this was Yoongi.
            “It’s alright. We don’t have to rush.” There was nothing but kind,
understanding warmth. The two of you slept together on that cozy bed made for
one. Exchanging kisses, nuzzling deeper into his chest, intertwining his legs
with yours. The denim felt rough, yet had a rugged softness that soothed your
legs. That night was definitely one you wouldn’t forget for what seemed like a
length amount of time; you just never realized that it would be a longing
memory.
            The next morning came much too quickly. Sunlight shone through the
windows, hitting your face annoyingly, making you squint as you slowly adjusted
to the slight burning smell and the stream of curses that followed. You were
the only occupant of the bed, your limbs tangled in the sheets and your hair
was luckily on the cuter side of messy. You saw Yoongi stationed in the
kitchen, waving his hands to banish the smoke out the window. Whatever was
charring in the pan was tossed into the garbage, the cooking tools thrown into
the sink while your music teacher let out a loud sigh as he propped his elbows
on the counter to sink his face into his hands.
            You grabbed his shirt from the floor as a cover up and hurried over
to the scene of the crime to give him a back hug. His back loosened up at the
contact, as you continued to say your thanks over and over. Yoongi turned in
your arms to face you. He was smiling. You were smiling. That’s really all you
could remember. You probably made breakfast that was edible for the both of
you. Yoongi probably dropped you at home with a kiss and a “see you later
princess”.
            On the day of the annual awards ceremony, you got the privilege of
being able to see Min Yoongi in a suit. All black with a red silk tie. It was
also the last day that you would view your Yoongi in that blinding affectionate
light. He had recently announced that his trip to Europe would last all summer
long so if anyone wanted to do summer school they would have another
instructor. The class all ‘awwed’ for different reasons. You already knew about
the news, but there was still a small bitter taste at the back of your throat. 
After all that talk about traveling you figured Yoongi would take any chance to
go on a trip with you.
            The day ended like any other. Yoongi hugged you goodbye and told
you to be good for him. He promised to bring you back a present. He gave you a
chaste little goodbye kiss. You told him to have lots of fun and to not forget
about you. He only kept one promise.
            Needless to say, you spent most if not all of your summer lazing
around, wondering about Yoongi, and counting down the days until school opened
again. You hoped the present he brought back was something sweet. He only
called twice during those months, but you figured he was busy with his music.
The nagging sensation of worry threatened to overtake your head, luckily that
was pushed away with a certain number of cigarettes.
            By the time school rolled around, you were trying to drop to a pack
a week. The school had gone ahead and enrolled you in the Level II music class
for first semester, keeping in line with your excitement to see Yoongi again.
You practically ran down the hallways, your enthusiasm shining clearly;
honestly, at the time it was worth the scolding from one of the hall monitors.
Yoongi was seated in his leather rolley chair, fingers rapidly texting someone
of importance as you waited in the doorway of the classroom for him to notice
you. He sent the text then locked his phone. That’s when you saw a huge grin
spread across his face followed by an enormous sigh of content.
            You knocked the open door awkwardly, trying to grab his attention.
Yoongi turned his head in your direction, his facial expressions forming a look
of surprise. You rushed forward, arms out for a hug, yet he remained sitting.
The hug was stiff, almost unfriendly. And his smile was different. It was
quainter, and it didn’t seem to be genuine. It didn’t faze you; you just
continued to talk your way through the morning while he sat there with that
quaint smile, the look of distance in his eyes.
            The bell rang while you were midsentence, and Yoongi quickly
ushered you to the door, his words rushing to tell you to hurry to your first
period. You tried to tell him you’d see him soon like always, but he actually
shut the door in your face. You face fell. Why wasn’t he excited to see you?
Maybe he was still tired from his trip. As you walked to your class, it
suddenly dawned on you that Yoongi forgot to give you your present.
                                     *****
            The days passed by in a blur, just like last year. But it wasn’t
exactly as last year. The semester before was filled with layers of joy, so
much that you couldn’t bother to view the calendar; it was like eating rich
trifle, you just focused on the next bite without bothering to think about what
happened before, you just knew it was going to be great. This interval was
shrouded in an inky haziness. Yoongi didn’t want to talk anymore. He didn’t
hold you as often, opting to cross his legs to prevent you from coming any
closer. He was always busy after school, racing down to the parking lot after
the last bell, the smoke from the tires as he screeched out of the square
practically clogging up the air.
On those sporadic days where your pestering would get to him, he would let you
come over to the apartment; on the condition that you go home exactly around
seven o’clock. You weren’t an idiot. Yet, you allowed the pain to sting your
entire mind, pushing away fear and doubt consistently. Yoongi only seemed to
express genuine emotion towards his phone, causing you to plot ways to hack
into the device to read his messages. That day never came; it was always beside
him 24/7 rain or shine. There seemed to be only one way to get him to revert
back to his old ways: crying. The third time he deliberately denied that he
couldn’t have lunch with you and claimed to be busy, even though you knew he
wasn’t, was the final straw.
            You burst into tears, wiping away at the rapidly falling drops, all
while demanding why he was ignoring you. You hated being forgotten. How many
times had you told him that? Yoongi quickly wrapped you in his arms, stroking
your hair while pressing quick kisses to your face. He said his apologies over
and over, then he would toss out a bland excuse that you would quickly swallow,
accepting his forgiveness was easy to do when you were pressed up against him
like old times. You knew he would go back to being distant around you, but at
those moments, you would grasp at anything that would reassure you. Anything
that would remind you of what he said on that cold, rainy evening.
            It was around the end of October. The leaves were gorgeous as
usual, a swirl of bright sunset colors that leaped in the air as the wind grew
stronger with every passing day. The air smelled sweet, the atmosphere crowded
with excitement for Halloween, and every restaurant or café boasted some sort
of pumpkin spice –fill in the blank-. Optimism filled your veins as well as a
renewed sense of faith in your relationship. That spirit crumbled like store
bought cookies within the last minutes of music class. She was taller than you,
by at least two inches, and she walked with the air of a person who accepts
that she’s an adult, someone who fully appreciated her mature image.
 
            Her headphones were the standout point around her shoulders. A
sleek, shiny red expensive accessory that was clearly designed for major
collectors or the modern obsessed. The overall outfit that she had chosen was
plain, but her sneakers took focus just in case if you weren’t impressed with
her head decoration. Her hands held two coffee cups, and when Yoongi looked up
that gummy smile was clearly meant for her. He gave her a small peck on the
mouth as a greeting, causing you to almost break the pencil in your hand. They
broke out into a comfortable conversation, lots of gesturing, and the eye
contact was nothing more than loving. Yoongi’s new girlfriend slipped her
headphones onto him, then sat on the top of his desk; observing the class while
waiting for him to evaluate whatever was coming out of the speakers.
            You focused on grinding your heel into the floor as hard as
possible, your head clouded by a sea of raging emotions. The bell rang, and for
once, you hurried along with the rest of your classmates instead of lingering
behind. It was time to get the hell out of there. You headed towards the back
door, practically knocking over a chair, before Yoongi slipped in front of you,
halting your movements. His eyes were wide in concern, like he cared for you.
            “Hey, you ok?” Yoongi rested a hand on your arm.
            “No.” you moved to the right, letting his hand fall off your limb
as you glared at his collarbone.
            He scratched his head, before letting out a sigh. You turned
around. The room was empty.
            “You’re mad, I get it. But….you should know….this wasn’t real. It’s
not possible for this to work out. You understand, right princess?” Yoongi
glanced up at you, grimace plastered on his face. Clearly, having a clean
breakup wasn’t possible.
 
            The inside of your mouth started to taste like pennies, a distinct
sign that you were about to vomit soon.
            “Yoongi let’s go!” her voice was the tipping point; it resonated
throughout the room, producing a wince on your face, while a smile graced
Yoongi’s. You shoved past him, running towards the closest empty bathroom. You
didn’t even bother to lock the stall door before releasing the contents of your
stomach into the porcelain bowl.
Sobbing was unavoidable. Screaming wasn’t an option, since it would cause you
to choke, so the tears poured down uncontrollably while you hugged yourself.
Pathetic, cold, broken. This was the perfect scene for a cruddy drama, but life
could imitate TV almost too perfectly sometimes. It took about half a class for
you to stop sniffing, and then your hands had started to shake so a cigarette
was the only solution here. The bathroom had one of those tiny glass windows
that were designed so that nobody could see in or out; light just shone through
in weird rays. One lit turned into three that is until you heard footsteps,
which disappeared quickly as they had arrived.
            You wiped your face of tear streaks, blew your nose, then decided
to just skip the rest of day considering that you felt like vomiting again,
even after that extended break you gave yourself. You remember being lucky
enough to slip past the main office without being caught, since the secretary
was on the phone, and then slowly making your way to home. You don’t think
anyone was at the house that evening. Rosemary’s Baby was on the old movie
channel, the film nearing its end as you sat there on the couch sniffing
occasionally while the sun sank into the earth, leaving you in a dim lonely
living room.
                                    *******
             Considering that the semester was more than half way through, it
was the perfect time to convert back to your old days of wasting away the time
and having daydreams that were more brilliantly vivid than the old ones.
Everyone has their own recovering system, retreating into your mind was the
only best solution. You’re not quite sure of the final grade that you received
after exams, but it was certainly higher than the effort you put into the final
months of the term. You suspect Yoongi had shoved some empathy into the form of
grades, which would explain the ninety-six written on the report card. This was
just like the time when you found out Hoseok was involved with an actual woman.
            Lunch breaks extended far into class hours so you could savor the
pack of cigs in your blazer pocket. Fantasies that could almost double as acid
trips. Most of the time your other teachers would have to scream several times
just to get your attention. There was a lot of sugar involved. You remember
tons just being crammed in your mouth constantly. For about half a year, you
had somehow managed to survive on sweets alone without developing any type of
diabetes. But sugar has a calming effect on your emotions, so you just gave in
to any craving regardless of the cost or distance.
            Mama even had to take away your credit card after that ridiculous
shopping spree at the French patisserie. You got it back the next day, all it
took was a small tantrum combined with a call from the school regarding your
physical and mental health so she kindly withdrew some sympathy from her heart,
then handed it back to you. She tried to have a talk, but after ten minutes of
silence she left for her husband’s office, while you wallowed in down blankets
listening to Marilyn Monroe sing in the background. Mama called after a while,
telling you to come to Daddy’s office for a nice lunch. You whined in defiance.
She won.
            Your hair wasn’t completely disastrous, more messy than chic, but
acceptable. After throwing on a knit dress along with a cream wool coat, you
called a cab to haul you across the slush to your father’s office. It was the
same old building. Tall, steel, marble, with too many faces that looked alike
in all of the black outerwear that flooded the area. The meal was warm,
pleasant almost. Your dad tried what Mama had attempted to do that morning, but
ultimately failed once you told them that you were fine. You would visit the
school’s therapist and bring up your grades. Everything was ok. And they
believed your word.
            You remember bumping into some guys from the advertising department
when you were allowed to leave. A guy named Taehyung and his buddy Jimin. 
Taehyung was easy to remember, since he was a loud boisterous man with a unique
way of smiling. Jimin stood out since his hair was orange, but he was calmer
and you made polite small talk since he asked if you were a new employee after
walking out of the head office. The conversation lasted longer than you wanted,
but on the other hand you felt relaxed after talking to Jimin so it wasn’t a
waste of time. You didn’t see his lingering stare as he watched you leave the
building. But that wouldn’t matter for a couple of more months.
                                        
                                    *******
            Winter break came and went in a blip, and you emerged from the
vacation as a new person. Well, not really new, more of a mess actually. Which
isn’t really fair, considering that the word ‘mess’ is an understatement. A
tidy pile of chaos seems to fit the description better. At least you were
wearing heels again, even if you were getting called out for looking like a
‘lost prostitute’ (stated by a nuisance of a history teacher). Clearly he was
wrong; if you wanted to look like a prostitute you would’ve already bought
Louboutins. The days after your crash landing with Yoongi had caused you to
sport a lazier version of your schoolgirl outfit, leaning towards an unkempt
yet clean kind of style.
            Your plaid skirt had started to get ratty around the hem, which led
Moira to having it tossed out with the rest of the garbage, but the school had
issued another uniform since there were so many complaints about the last ones
material being see-through. Now there was the choice of a kilt in navy blue or
soft gray with even pleats and a non-rash inducing fabric. Usually new clothes
made you happy, but when Moira held up the shortened pieces of cloth to show
off her work you thanked her quietly and left the room with the skirts crumpled
in your hand. Around the house, you left your hair tied up in a bun to disguise
the fact that you hadn’t brushed your hair; now that school had started up
again, you forego curling your hair like you used to in exchange for a quick
comb leaving it in a wavy disarray of locks. The effort to do up your face had
also disappeared and during these days you just thanked whoever invented
concealer and lipstick, since these two were the only items that prevented you
from looking like a complete zombie. You showed up on the first day back,
dazed, confused, and cranky from your body’s adjustment to your new diet of
sweet, vile junk.
            Sluggishly, you traveled down the hallways, sucking on gummy bears,
letting the gelatin dissolve in your mouth instead of chewing, glancing at the
doors in search of a sign that read ‘Culinary Lab’. The gray color of your
skirt matched the winter skies, and you had paired the kilt with an old,
oversized sweater in a faded dark blue. You had forgotten to put on a shirt
underneath the pullover, instigating a passing teacher to order you to change
right this instant. Your arms lifted the hem of the shirt flashing a gap of
your stomach before she yanked down the material to cover your flesh, hissing
at you to beat it before she reported you for indecent exposure. Hot red had
flushed her cheeks as she spat her words, and you gave a gracious smile before
moving away.
            Just because you had a constant atmosphere of gloom didn’t mean you
couldn’t mess around with another old crone at this prison. Thankfully, you
made it to your destination without almost stripping in front of the student
body a little past the final bell. The route had to be extended, since the
shorter way involved passing through the music hall and there was no way in
hell you were ever going to visit that place again. You slid into a seat by the
door just as Mr. Kim Seokjin called out the first name on the roll. So this was
the infamous culinary instructor. Well, now you understood those vulgar wishes
that his students proclaimed when they thought nobody was listening. He was way
past model beauty; his face was the type that should be encased in marble
statues, like the Greek gods of the past. Seokjin had the broadest shoulders
you had ever seen, and when he turned to face the board everyone could see the
perfect shape of his torso through his tight turtleneck sweater. You briefly
let your mind slip into a small trance, mentally visualizing what he would look
like without a shirt on when your name was called out.
            A hand waved in front of your eyes, returning you to the present.
            “What? Oh, yeah, here.” Now that he was closer you could see the
finer features of his face, but seriously was there anything wrong with this
man physically? “Pleasure to finally have you here miss,” Mr. Kim quickly
displayed a smirk that would have easily been mistaken for a smile. Also, you
weren’t quite sure, but you might have seen a strange mischievous glint in his
eyes. An uneasy sensation ran down your spine, making you shiver slightly.
There was something about this man that made you squirm in a bad way, but
nevertheless the syllabus revealed that you would be covering many different
types of cake so maybe you would be wrong.
            Then again, maybe it was time to finally start using some sense and
be wary around extraordinarily handsome teachers. By the time the class had
delved into entrees, you were the only one who would tense up slightly every
time Seokjin came near. It was just so confusing. Why did he always seem to
have this spark in his eyes when he talked to you? Like he held some sort of
secret over your head. His smile was constant whenever he would stop for a
little chat, then again if anyone would just look past the blinding grin, they
would see the shape of his mouth and how it looked like he was holding back a
laugh.
            Once, he made you stay in class a little while longer in order to
clean up in time for the last period. He stood beside you, handing over hot
dishes for you to dry and put into the dish rack. The silence was awkward to
say the least, although you drifted off, letting muscle memory do the work. Jin
eventually spoke.
            “Do you think about living in a daring reality?”
            You met his eyes with an uncertain appearance gracing your face. “I
guess?” your voice rose higher on the final syllable, leaving you two in
silence once again.
            You didn’t like Jin, but he made an excellent apple pie so the
situation was quite perplexing. The dislike would eventually evolve into loathe
on the day of your forgotten birthday. You’d failed to remember the day, due to
the fact that you had stopped checking the calendar back in November. Your
culinary instructor surprised you after class, with a gorgeous homemade cake
and a couple of inquisitive questions about the past semester.
            “Here you are darling,” Jin flicked a lighter on for the candles,
looking your way to gauge your reaction. Confused, slightly intrigued,
definitely weirded out. The two of you were seated at his desk, the flames
melting away the candle wax while you simply stared at your teacher with a
raised eyebrow. “What… just what is this? Is this a game or…..?” You tossed
your hands towards the dessert. “ “You should blow out the candles first,” he
ordered and you leaned forward to distinguish the miniscule fire. Now this was
really odd, considering he was watching your every movement like a cat, just
back and forth.
            At this point, you were done with all the shit that had been thrown
in your face today. You had seen Yoongi’s girlfriend wandering around the
hallways, one of your teachers had decided to lecture you in front of the whole
class (while spitting fervently), and when you had escaped to the roof for a
smoke, a teacher had caught you; forcing you to bribe the pain-in-the-ass with
the rest of your allowance. Just as you stood up to leave, Jin finally spoke up
again. “You know, I really don’t know what Yoongi saw in you. You don’t really
have anything in common; I mean what made you stay together? The sex….or
anything?”
            You sank back down into the chair, the familiar wretched feeling
returning to your stomach. The one that you usually pushed away with sugar,
except that the nearest sweet was in the form of this nosy man’s baked good.
“Can I at least get a slice before I answer that question?” you glared at him
while he cut you a piece of the cake. He handed you a fork, and you resisted
the urge to stab him in the neck. Instead you dug into the cake. It was
wonderful as per usual. Red velvet complemented by cream cheese frosting that
was amazingly airy instead of the traditional heaviness that cream cheese
generally carried. The perfect ratio in every forkful too. You would have
definitely applauded this man if he wasn’t such a douche.
            “This is delicious.”
            “Thank you!”
            “That wasn’t a complement you jackass.”
            You heaved a giant sigh before meeting those twinkling eyes of his.
“How did you even know?” Now it was his turn to sigh. “Nobody can keep a secret
from me here. Did you really think you two were being subtle? Honey, go over
and think again.” You rolled your eyes. “Why do you care so much if you’re not
gonna tell?” Jin feigned a shocked expression, placing a hand on his heart as
his eyes widened mockingly. “Yoongi is a very good friend of mine. Clearly it
is my duty to intervene with my friend’s affairs and make sure that they are-
“You shot Jin an exasperated look, cutting off his ridiculous ramble. “Darling
hear me out when I say this. I live for this shit. Honestly, this drama can
probably keep me going for the rest of the year. But enough about me. So tell
me, are you going to do anything revengeful soon? Oh wait you probably want
more cake for this!”
            The thought of staying for more than cake was exhausting on its
own. But before you left there was one last thing you wanted. “You know, you
didn’t even ask what I wished for.” Jin halted the knife he was using. “Well
that’s quite rude of me. Tell me.” “I want a birthday kiss.” You leaned your
head onto your propped up palm waiting for his response. Even Jin’s sleazy grin
didn’t waver your decision. “So you’re definitely into older guys right? Which
means Yoongi wasn’t a onetime thing, you’re just a wild one.” You grabbed the
collar of his shirt roughly. “Just shut up and stop being gross.” Honestly, you
weren’t really sure why you wanted to do this with someone you now couldn’t
stand. Truthfully, the only thing that was going for you was that well-crafted
symmetrical face of his. You only wanted to feel something. Anything really.
You removed yourself from Seokjin who only licked his lips afterwards. “Hmm,
not bad. I can see why he kept you around for that long.”
            You got nothing from this. What a waste of time. You yanked the
knife out of the cake, tossing it to the side to clatter on the desk. With the
treat cradled in your arms you stalked out of the room. “Thanks so very much.”
The sight of a young girl carrying two-thirds of a fancy dessert down the
street without a carrier was probably a comical sight to anyone who happened to
be out at the time, but you ignored the stares lost in your mind with thoughts
about getting out of this hell-town.  It’s strange how one can feel like
crying, yet not at the same time. At the third crosswalk, you decided not to
spout off any tears at all. Crying was starting to become a nuisance,
considering how tired you got afterwards and how many times you had broken down
this year alone. The records were embarrassing to say the least.
            Ungratefully, time didn’t stop just for you. The year piddled on as
usual, eventually drawing to a close so summer could break through the
atmosphere with its cheery attitude, annoying excitement, and freedom to do
nothing. More time to waste. Grand. A house was rented in one of the beach
towns, so the lot of your family could spend the entire summer there. Your
parents spent their time attending to grown up affairs, while you wandered
around the town or the next one over, barefoot with a large red sunhat in your
hand, the style of your dress in a cheery print despite your expression. The
ice cream parlors had taken a liking to your everyday visits; although they
were quite perplexed with your experiments when you had gotten tired of eating
a single flavor. Staff around there was inquisitive about your lack of
companionship, so you took to wandering around the carnival (shoes on),
sampling different colors of cotton candy or looking for the perfect caramel
apple with the right ratio in every bite.
            Simple, sad, boring. Same summer as always. School ads began
popping up earlier than expected, which meant another prayer that this year
would be kind to you. But this year was definitely better than any other. It
was the year you met your Namjoon, who was only on his third year of being a
teacher. Namjoon remembers the day he first saw you, clearer than a bell ring.
He was nervous that day. He’d spilt coffee on his tie while walking out of his
apartment; he forgot his glasses on his bedside table, and his then girlfriend
had packed the wrong textbook for him in his bag, forcing him to borrow another
from a colleague. Namjoon had tripped while making his way over to the board to
write his name, causing the students to titter.
             His mind was fuzzy from embarrassment, but he managed to joke
about his accident before continuing on with the first day introduction. You
were late to first period, heels in your hand while you worked the flavor out
of a piece of strawberry bubblegum. Someone had called you out on your
footwear, driving you to change into the flats you kept in your locker. You
planned on changing shoes again, only this time you would avoid that particular
hallway. He was in the middle of explaining the books that the class would be
reading this semester when you swung the wood door wide open. Your classmates’
eyes immediately drew to the motion, only to flicker back when they realized it
was just her.She was always late nothing new here. Namjoon on the other hand
had stopped talking altogether. Staring, no, gaping really as he observed his
interrupter.
            He knows what you looked like back then all too well. Hair mussed
in a cross between curly and wavy, lips painted the perfect red, torn stocking
on one leg, the buttons on your shirt incorrectly inserted. When he talks about
that moment, he always wonders why he was in a trance, if he was just stunned
from the sudden interference or if he somehow knew how special you would become
to him. You glanced back at him, eyes up and down his body fleetingly before
returning to his face. The crack from your bubblegum snapped the new guy out of
his daze.  Namjoon realizes what he had been doing, blush flashing onto the
face of a person who would probably be considered scary from one look. Whoever
this new teacher was, he was certainly a little weird. You shook your head a
little at his expression, voicing the first words to your most favorite person
in the world: “What do you want?” Right before popping a bright pink bubble
again.
***** Sex Yeah/How to be a Heartbreaker *****
Chapter Summary
     Back and late again! I know I know, college starts blah blah, life
     gets in the way whatever. Establishment of how you ended up with
     Namjoonie and as the title gave it away: virginity loss. Next chapter
     has no date since I honestly have no idea when I'll finish that, but
     have fun with this one!
            His hair was silver back then. It was almost like metal, with the
way it shined in the light and in the swept back style he always has his hair
in. Not grandpa hair, the color people think of when someone describes awards
or fancy teaspoons. That color, the one that gave Namjoon confidence in the
fact that he could pull off such a strange shade. But right now, he didn’t have
that normal boost of self-assurance that he was in control. Instead he was
watching you, inappropriately short skirt swishing as you walked to the only
unoccupied desk in the classroom at the back right corner, waiting for you to
sit down. Namjoon swallowed, blinked once….and he was back. The new English
teacher continued on with the first day introduction, carrying on while giving
the right corner a glance every now and then.
            Not even two sentences in, had you tucked yourself into the fold of
your arms, Namjoon made a mental note at your behavior. So you were going to be
one of those students? You had already missed the first fifteen minutes of
class he wasn’t going to settle for this now. The bell was ringing, kids
packing up and peeling out to clog the hallways with chatter. You lagged
behind, slowly slipping on those pretty, yet impractical heels. Once the final
strap was secure, you looked up to find him staring down at you patiently, a
look of amusement brushed on his handsome face. Namjoon heaved a light sigh,
“Darling you can’t do things like this if you want to take my class. I would
really appreciate it if you made it on time and paid attention alright?”
            Standing even in heels, he was much taller than you, but you kept
your gaze steady. What happened to the flustered man an hour ago? When was he
replaced with this certainty? You sniffed delicately, your mouth pouting
subtly, causing Namjoon’s eyes to glimpse briefly at your plush lips before
returning back to your eyes. With a shake of your head, “No.” In the blip of a
second, you witnessed a pivotal moment that would mark an important detail in
your future relationship with Namjoon. His eyes darkened, brow furrowed, and
his left hand flew up to your face, cupping it firmly in his grasp, the thumb
resting nicely on your bottom lip. It didn’t take you long to realize that his
thumb was only millimeters away from being sucked on. Then in a wonderfully
spine-shivering tone, “That wasn’t a suggestion baby. Now would you like to
change your answer?” You were stunned, eyes widened in what you didn’t identify
at the time but it was positively lust now that you thought back on that spell.
Namjoon watched you nod your adorable head, blinking rapidly, eyes turned down,
a major change from that defiant attitude seconds before.
            Your teacher smirked winningly. “Good girl. That’s what I like to
see.” An unfamiliar warm feeling flooded your body at the words of praise. Why
were you reacting so well to a semi-strangers approval? The urge to actually
wrap your lips around his thumb was ever so tempting, but he pulled it away
before you could, instead placing it on your back as he ushered you out,
wishing you a happy back-to-school. Namjoon gave your head a light pat before
you walked away trying to decipher the emotions swelling up in your mind. You
placed two fingers on the side of your neck. Yep, your pulse was definitely
beating faster. You shook your head. You can’t fall in love with every
attractive teacher that acts decent towards you. If you were going to keep
living in this world, maybe it was time to adopt a levelheaded conscience.
Meanwhile, Namjoon was reminiscing on his little victory. More bark than bite.
Roaring proud lion to purring shy kitten. But you really were cute. Naturally
innocent looking at an age where everyone strived to achieve adult status, yet
you held onto your youth like a badge of charm. He wanted to see more of you,
hopefully with a better mindset next time.
                                     *****
            The next day you showed up on time, twisting a cherry lollipop in
your mouth, but on time nonetheless. Namjoon gave thanks at the end of class
when you walked by on your way out, thinking this was all he had to do to get
you to work. He had dealt with kids who were like this, it was no different.
Well, he was certainly wrong, so he took a different approach. Namjoon took
note of your habits early on, taking command much sooner than most teachers who
usually choose to give up once they ask about your name. He shook you awake
when you tried to sneak into a nap, confiscated candy from your lap (even
sneaking into your pockets for every morsel), and today he was making you stay
after class to discuss your practically nonexistent work ethic. It had already
been about two weeks and you hadn’t turned in a single assignment.
Surprisingly, you had passed the vocabulary quiz and the test on the short
story that he had given you, but he believed in showing your effort.
            Namjoon was studying you, trying to find a way to break in. From
his observations, he knew that you didn’t have any companions, you kept mostly
to yourself for the majority of the day, and you were particularly fond of
gourmet treats. And judging from how the bottom desk drawer was already crammed
with your snacks, he was going to need to find a way to make some progress
soon. During class, he only tried to speak to you one on one, finding out
quickly that if he called on you, you ignored him and tucked into your arms.
One of your essays was half a week late as well as three homework assignments.
It frustrated him a little, considering how much effort he put into your time,
yet you couldn’t even say hello back to him in the hallways, instead you had
merely glanced at him before walking past him.
            At the current time, the two of you were seated behind his desk, he
was facing you, his knees touching yours while your right foot swung gently,
kicking the side of his shin gently. Namjoon reached to grip your ankle in his
hand, halting your banter. You kept your gaze down, focusing on his grasp.
Namjoon gave a small smile, “How’s your day baby?” You pried his much larger
hand off your leg, noticing the size difference while taking hold of his
fingers in yours, “It’s decent.” Namjoon took his hand out of yours to take
your chin to tilt up so you could meet his eyes, “Look at me when you speak
darling.” A swallow moved through your throat, but you managed to look back at
him. A glimpse of a smirk was evident on his face, “What do you think of me?”
            You twisted a stray thread from your skirt around your finger,
contemplating on how to answer. Truthfully you thought Namjoon to be a good
teacher, if only he would accept your C marks instead of encouraging you to do
better. And he was kinda shameless with all the flirting he did with everyone.
His juvenile admirers were always referred to as ‘sweetie’, and his dimples had
managed to charm everybody in the tristate area. You thought he smiled too
much. Sure he was remarkably handsome, but that poise wasn’t always there. You
had seen that flustered expression for a few seconds a week or so ago. You
looked up at his face, an earnest look present while he waited for an answer.
He always called you ‘baby’ or ‘darling’.
            “I think you’re sexy.”
            And there it was. That red color flashing onto his face as he
looked down at floor, trying to process what you had spoken. You let out a
little giggle, Namjoon catching the moment at the right time to witness a
smile. He’d been waiting for that for what seemed like forever. At least he had
made you smile, that was progress. But now it was time for him to assert
himself again. Namjoon gripped the sides of your chair, pulling you forward so
you were even closer to him, practically in his lap. “Baby, I want you to put
more effort in. If not for you, then do it for me, I want to see that you’re
learning ok?” He gave instructions on a separate assignment for you to take
instead, however the words were washing above your head as you noted how the
flush was fading from his complexion. He’s so cute when he lets his shyness get
the best of him. Nevertheless, you gave him a nod and an “Ok.” Then pressed a
small kiss to his cheek as a goodbye, hopping out of the chair to quickly exit
the room.
            You didn’t linger behind to watch Namjoon blush once again, his
head spinning as he pressed his hand up to where your lips had been. He shook
his head. Am I having a power struggle?
                                    ******
            As nightfall came, you reflected back on the moments alone with Mr.
Kim. He was fun. You liked how he crumbled under certain things you did or
said. It was nice having all this control to toy around with. But it was the
weekend now and you wouldn’t be able to see him for two whole days. You sat on
your messy bed, thinking of ways to trigger red on his face while a Bettie Page
documentary played on your TV. As the queen of pinups pranced on and off screen
in the form of pictures and small video clips, is when it hit you. A rapid
search of the remote was set out between the comfy sheets, but that proved to
be a failure after five minutes so you got up to turn up the volume manually.
You sat on the floor in front of the screen, knees to your chest, analyzing
Bettie’s movements, the little wiggle she had in her step, the way she moved
her legs most of all. You thought back to the time at a pricy antique shop,
when you had overheard a salesperson with a customer chatting about vintage
lingerie, particularly one certain quote that had stood out to you. Garter
belts are always stylish.
                                    ******
            Namjoon was letting all the hot water go to waste. Leaning up
against the shower wall while a steamy spray hit him as he stroked his dick,
letting the precum smear across as he worked himself up at a steady pace. The
tall man had come home a little later, stressed from the impromptu meeting at
the school, and the bickering from his tiresome girlfriend before he got called
to go to the faculty gathering. He’d figured a long hot shower would be just
the thing to ease the tension in his shoulders But then he started to let his
mind wander. He started thinking about school that is until you popped up in
his mind, leading him to think about that kiss. What was that? Did it mean
anything? But, she’s just messing with you. Her lips were so soft though.It
lasted for a one thousandth of a second, but truthfully he wanted more. Namjoon
wanted your lips on his, on his body, he thought of your innocent expressions,
the way you would suck on your fingers after eating a sugar donut with no
regards on to how others could perceive that action.
            How you looked on that first day, when he had called you a good
girl and he had seen your eyes light up. What you tasted like after eating
those bright lollipops. He wanted to know all about you. And no surprise, he
felt himself growing hard as his thoughts got wilder, dirtier, more filth
really. Namjoon didn’t resist at all, reaching down to take care of himself.
His hand moving quickly up and down his shaft in a hurried manner to get off
quickly. Even though he was in a what is supposed to be a serious relationship
with his tedious girlfriend, his sex life as well as his overall existence was
incredibly lacking. She lived with him, in the same apartment you would come to
occupy happily with in the future, but her residency just caused your Daddy
tension and nervousness around anything.
            To say she was a bit overbearing was an understatement. Namjoon had
met her during college, and they had been together after they had both
graduated. At the time, he had come to dealing with her little quirks simply
because that’s what good boyfriends due, but over the recent months he’s begun
to realize that the same little things he used to like were now annoying. She
liked for things to always be in order. Proper, structure, organization the
whole nine yards in every aspect of life. No room for mistakes, messiness, or
tedious little knickknacks. One of their recent arguments had been centered
around the bookshelf. She pointed to a set of titles that some friends had
given to Namjoon but he had never actually read them, “Why don’t you get rid of
this lot? You have no use for them.” He had blown up quite heavily on this one,
telling her that she had no sense of nostalgia or compassion since the books
had been inscribed on the inside with happy letters.
            Everything seemed to be about reaching ‘optimum success’. There’s
absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to improve, but constantly? With nothing
to keep you sane, no breaks or holidays? Namjoon just couldn’t seem to take it.
The last thing that they had done that was ‘fun’ together was go jogging around
the city. Even that activity had a goal at the end of it. No surprise that the
couple was in the middle of a dry spell. No sexual activities at this man’s
home, just cable TV and scotch. He was also tired of her constant reminders of
their age. Late twenties is still quite young on the spectrum, yet in her
comparison it was practically near death. Regular hints about marriage,
children, families, retirement plans. Things that someone would usually think
about in their mid-thirties, although the retirement planning was just plain
insane. Namjoon had barely made it out of college alive, he just wanted to
relax a bit, enjoy his job, maybe think about a small trip to another country.
            “Who knows what’ll happen in the future.” He once stated during
breakfast when the subject of babies came up. “What do you mean by that?” “I
mean, we shouldn’t plan everything down to a T, a little spontaneity never hurt
anyone.” She slammed the door after that, picking up her blazer and keys on the
way out. Namjoon was sick of life at this point, something that he had thought
he would never be tired of. Then you had come along. Rebellious, sly, and
judging from how your journal entries consisted of road trip dreams: a
romanticist. He thought of you as a breath of relief. Since he used to be like
that, running off doing things just for the hell of it, changing plans to go
off on an inspiration tirade. Stuff that made him feel alive. Namjoon had once
seen you wandering around downtown, bakery sack (full of cookies probably) in
hand, before stopping to enter an offbeat independently owned used bookshop. He
himself had been on his way to another big corporate chain store to return
something for his girlfriend, and he had a minute to think to himself ‘When had
I become so grownup?’Adults are cautious creatures. Checking Yelp for reviews
before going anywhere, visiting crowded tourist attractions on vacations, going
to bed at a specific time, boring, boring, boring. Even some of the kids had
become adults unknowingly!  But with you, the way he had seen you being dropped
off by your mother, but then had slipped off your saddle shoes at your locker
in exchange for cheeky red kitten heels, merely minutes after she left.
            How you gorged yourself on rich snacks with no regards on how it
would affect your body. You did whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. Once
when he had to wake you up from a quick cat nap, Namjoon inquired about your
sleeping habits. “Oh. Last night? Went wandering around one of the nicer
streets near the river. There was a festival going on, so I wanted to stay for
a while. But I never go to bed on time, there’s always a good movie on the
classic Hollywood channel.” And what had he done: given a lecture about better
sleeping behavior. The things you wrote in your journal (the only assignments
you had ever done) also piqued his curiosity. Unstructured scribbles about
pretty gardens, small villages in France, going barefoot on soft sand. It would
be so nice to have such simple aspirations. However, he is your teacher, and
you are his student. As much as he would like to indulge in fictional scenarios
with you, he has to remain professional and tell you how to bring some
structure into your life so you wouldn’t end up with nothing. Namjoon made you
a personal priority. Then again, this was his mind. A little fantasy never hurt
anyone.
            But the time to exercise his new decrees never came around. Since
the new Monday, he received a message around ten, that you were sick and would
be missing class. Well, at least he could stop worrying now. Usually you liked
to cut class at the end of the week, so Namjoon had begun to fret about your
whereabouts during his teaching sessions. As soon as the final bell rang, he
rushed off to your home, after gathering the address from the main office with
today’s assignments. A couple of minutes later, Namjoon was slowly questioning
his sense of direction, glancing at the sticky note scribbled with the street
name, reducing the speed on his car while he looked around the surprisingly
lovely neighborhood. Confusion struck his mind, he’d assumed that you lived in
a poorer area, thinking back on the stockings with rips and holes and the
shirts with tattered edges, then thought of the pastries from fancy shops and
the posh velvet shoes.
            So this is why every other teacher had given up on you. In the end,
money’s all that matters, regardless of the student; if the parents keep
donating they’re free to do whatever. Namjoon shook his head as he pulled up
the driveway. You had the potential to be a good scholar; you just needed the
motivation to use effort. He was greeted by the housekeeper, no doubt about
that, doorbell releasing a delicate ring throughout the house to signal his
arrival. She was on her way to do shopping, face pulling into a grin once Moira
had realized that this handsome man had come to drop off some papers. “Her
teacher? How wonderful. She’s right up the stairs, the one with the blue door.
Thank you so much for visiting.” With that she left the spacious home, walking
down the street to an awaiting taxi. Namjoon quickly surveyed the foyer; it was
simplistic, yet clean, showcasing art instead of family photos. He took up the
stairs, walking slowly to not create a disturbance of any kind. Then he was
right outside your door, inhaling a deep breath, letting it out gently,
gathering up his assurance while simultaneously promising himself not to get
frazzled around you again. Those thoughts were knocked right out of his head
when he pushed the door open, its silent swing failing to alert you, instead
Namjoon’s briefcase did the trick.
            Oh god he had seen you. Naked, from the waist up at least, sitting
upright in bed while watching the screen. The crash from the fall shifted your
gaze to the right, seeing your teacher in a look of total dumbfounded
senselessness. Namjoon’s mind is racing. I should’ve knocked. I should’ve
knocked. I should’ve knocked.You just got annoyed. Covering yourself with the
duvet before turning to face the other direction. “What do you want now?” your
whine bringing him back to the present. Namjoon stood still at the door. “Just
come in. It’s fine.” His approaching footsteps made you turn again, staring as
he pulled up a chair from your desk. Face a brilliant sunset pink as he
stammered out the cutest apology ever. “What’s this all about?” you asked as he
took out papers from his case. “Just assignments you need to do, in case you
don’t get any better soon.” He was still looking at the ground as he spoke. You
gave a little giggle.
            “I’m not that sick. Be back tomorrow, I promise.” You reached to
touch his hands, which were gripping his knees as if his life depended on it.
Only then did he finally look up. The same glint in your eyes like the one he
saw at school all the time. Namjoon gave you a small smile, dimples popping up
as they always did. You let out a sigh of relief, “Hey, spend time with me
today.” “What?” “Keep me company. It’s the least you could do. You practically
got a free peepshow a couple minutes ago.” Namjoon shook his head. “Baby, I
don’t think that’s a good idea.” “What are ya going to tell me? That it’s
inappropriate? I’m not letting you get under the sheets for god’s sake, just
stay with me ok?” Hesitation overcame his senses. He wanted to stay, he did.
But….oh forget it.
            Namjoon set his briefcase back on the floor. “Now get on the bed,
that chair’s about to break with you in it.” Namjoon reeled in shock. “Not
underneath, over.” And he finally let out a shaky chuckle, before circling over
to the other side to climb on top. You instantly latched onto his arm,
snuggling into him for the first time, as his heart beat into a frenzy, trying
to settle into how close he was to you. “You know, I missed you right?” A nice
grin spread across his face at your words. He’d wondered the same thing on the
drive over. “I did too.” Namjoon reached to grip your face in his large hand,
smoothing his thumb over your bottom lip, facing him, “Get better, alright
darling?” Right now you just couldn’t take it. There’s no denying the
opportunity you’ve been given, truthfully you were just following lustful
excitement from last night when your mind sprang a sex dream about your
teacher. You pushed his hand away, moving to sit up again, the blanket falling
off letting Namjoon’s eyes flit down to your chest for a second, just as you
reached up to press a kiss to his soft, plump lips. He immediately sank into
it, letting his arms wrap around your waist to bring you closer, while yours
went around his neck.
            Namjoon felt your mouth open in surprise as his hands gradually
make their way down to grip your ass, taking this opportunity to move his
tongue in. Suddenly he pulled back. “Wait… I don’t want to catch what you
have.” “I’m not sick, it’s nothing! I got a headache!”  You revealed,
refocusing on those lips again. Namjoon let out a laugh, moving down to your
neck as he climbed on top of you. You let out a shriek at his dominance once
again making an appearance.  God, he was great at kissing. Namjoon had similar
positive thoughts. What a person you were.
                                    ******
            The next day was the start of a change in nature, in temperature,
appearance, and your relationship with Namjoon. The morning was a bit weird.
You’d worn garter belts several times in the past, but the one you had chosen
for today felt odd. It would be worth it though, if it got his attention when
you bent over in a certain way. A pure white set underneath your skirt and
cable knit sweater. Quick note: white stockings can make anyone’s ankles look
slim, especially paired with red patent leather heels. Heightens the naughty
school girl effect. You woke a little earlier today, taking time to brush your
hair, as well as pick out clothes that weren’t wrinkled. Seems like you were
back to a smoother image, hopefully.
            The walk to his classroom made you giddy, a little hop in your step
with each passing movement. You’d thought about this. Playing it safe,
proceeding with caution, basically taking your time with any new person.  Your
stint with Yoongi made you realize your own vulnerability; you’d basically laid
yourself bare to that man. The way things were going in your life, you could
afford to fool around with someone as charming as him. With Namjoon, you were
pretty sure you wouldn’t have any other feelings other than desire and sex. You
strode into the room, clicking heels signaling your arrival, only instead of
looking up; he kept his head in his hands. Mr. Kim looked tired, the life
drained from his form. “What’s wrong sir?” you stood beside the chair timidly,
placing a hand on his back, rubbing softly.
            He heaved a large sigh out. After his little session with you, he
arrived home to an enraged ex-girlfriend. She was packing up her belongings, as
well as a couple of hisbooks into a bag, exclaiming about commitment issues and
how she couldn’t be with someone who thinks as slow as he does. The argument
did last all night, and most of his furniture was scheduled to be taken away to
her new place. Honestly, he was as happy as ever to finally be unrestrained
once again, but some of his best collected literature pieces had been taken
away from him. Though sometimes all a human being wants to do is be mad, so he
was allowing his anger from last night to transfer. Namjoon looked up with a
cross expression, ordering you to wait for the bell to ring before entering
class. Your face dropped, tapping the floor with your foot as you muttered
something intelligible to his ears. An apology was left on the tip of his
tongue, however as he watched your retreating back, he decided to save it.
            The bell rang a few minutes after you had left, standing in the
hall right out the door. Namjoon was still trying to figure out what you said
had been what he thought it was. Class was stiff until the very end, yet
Namjoon was surprised to find you alert and paying attention to what he was
talking about. Sure, you weren’t taking notes, still it was a start. After the
room cleared out you walked back up to the front, a few stapled papers in your
hand. Namjoon was back at his desk, scribbling madly at some form, so you took
it upon yourself to sit on his desk as a distraction. Mr. Kim finally looked
up. “What do you need?” You handed him all your missing assignments from the
past weeks. “Just a thank you for spending time with me yesterday.”
Namjoon clenched his jaw. “If you buy into the whole fuck-the-teacher-to-get-
better-grades trope, then you are clearly mistaken here.” Namjoon worked hard
to put steel into his voice but the look in your eyes wasn’t fazed at all.
Instead you lowered yourself down into his lap. Even though he was still teed
off, with the way you were straddling him and just by how close you were to
him, Namjoon was failing to mask any displeasure. “Mr. Kim, I don’t want the
grades. I don’t care. I want the teacher. Is that simple enough?” You leaned
in, mouth centimeters away from his, pausing so he could close the miniscule
gap between you two. Namjoon broke. He didn’t give a damn anymore. With a firm,
domineering grip on your waist, Namjoon had complete control, showing the
desire that he had exhibited in your bedroom. You broke off first. “You know,
you’re kinda scary when you get like this, Daddy.” Namjoon grabbed you again
for another kiss, feeling your body press up against his, while his mind lit up
blissfully. He wasn’t imagining it; you had definitely said it before that
time.  A tiny moan escaped your mouth as his hands continued to move underneath
your shirt.
He was acting more desperate today. Almost raw in a way with his brash
movements, and you might actually enjoy this side much better than his shy
demeanor. The second to last bell rang just as you pulled away, “I have to go
Daddy. Let’s do this again later.” Namjoon, however, had other ideas as he kept
you close, hands on the back of your thighs to stall your exit. “What if I
don’t want you to leave?” You glanced quickly behind you, “Someone will see.”
He just laughed, sliding his hands up to toy with the straps on your garter
belt, “Aren’t you going to let me see what’s underneath kitten?”  Your face got
hot, the wetness between your legs increasing. This wasn’t fair; you were
supposed to be the one doing the teasing. “Daddy, seriously.” “You’re not going
anywhere, now hop back on the desk,” Namjoon ordered, voice stern, his eyes
reinforcing his statement. You did as you were told, nervously watching your
Daddy lock the door and shut the windows. Where was the second class? He
promptly sat back down in his chair, hands reaching towards your thighs to undo
the clips on your stockings. Daddy lightly rubbed the wet spot on your panties,
increasing your pulse, until he gripped the sides of your underwear to pull
down slowly.
You stopped breathing at this point. He began to place little hickies on your
inner thighs, (his official trademark really), then started to leisurely eat
you out as if he had all the time in the world. You tilted your head back,
hands behind braced on the desk to support you, soft moans escaping into the
room. Only when you felt Namjoon prod a finger at your tight hole did you feel
a flash of panic and push his hand away slightly. “Daddy, be gentle…no one’s
ever…” your voice trailing off at the embarrassment of being inexperienced.
Namjoon stopped all advances, a smirk gracing his face since the sides had been
flipped once again, “No one’s ever what?” he teased. You just looked away. “Is
my baby a virgin?” “Well…yeah,” you shifted on the desk. “I quite like that,”
he said before resuming his actions. Actually he loved the sound of that. You
were all his to ruin, to wreck, to indulge in, everything and anything would be
taken by him. He had always liked being first.
You felt the finger again, in response you tugged on Daddy’s hair as a way of
telling him to do it. Daddy’s finger entered in slowly, the sting of the
stretch making you wince slightly, but you were glad that he was the one that
was touching you like this. Daddy started to move it in and out of your hole,
while his mouth sucked gently on your clit, you just taking it all in as the
need to cum was climbing higher and higher. You spilled into his mouth a couple
of pumps later, Namjoon quickly lapping up the white liquid that tasted like
the most delectable dessert to him. You were a panting mess, trying to calm
down from the moment. “We’re going to have to work on your discipline kitten.
You don’t get to cum unless I say so, understand?” his hand under your chin to
tilt up. You nodded still breathless, and Namjoon engrained your cute face all
tuckered out from being eaten into his memory. The clock on the wall read at
least twenty minutes later than the final bell, which you probably didn’t hear
due to some distractions. Suddenly it dawned on you. “Daddy what if they heard?
All your kids are out there waiting!” You were met with a confused look. “What
are you talking about darling? I told them to have class in the library.”
                                    ******
Namjoon got to have his fun for a little while. It was his classroom after all;
he got to decide what you two would do together. There was an added bonus;
Namjoon had filled out a form for you to be his intern for the year, which
meant morning meetings every day, which really just meant all sorts of dirty
amusements until the bell rung. On the third day, you complained of comfort
issues, with you sitting or being bent over on the hard wooden desk all the
time, only Daddy’s lap was comfortable, but kissing quickly turns into
something naughtier. He took you home, and let you spend the night for the
first time with him in that comfy white bed. You phoned home, tossing out a
realistic fib, before being carried princess style to the bedroom. Daddy set
you down gently, then started to undo buttons on your shirt, tugging off the
skirt impatiently, practically ripping off your matching bra and panties
leaving you in your stockings. Namjoon enjoyed the way they looked on your
legs, as well as the sound of the snap they made when he pulled the hem back.
After you were undressed to his standards, he moved to lean back against the
headboard, patting his thigh for you to sit on.
You climbed up onto him, wasting no time as you hurriedly snapped off the
buttons to reveal his chest. So this is what he was hiding under those blazers.
From past times, you weren’t exactly sure about his physique, but since he
filled out his shirts all too well you thought he worked out a little. This is
not what you were expecting. Daddy was thick, a well-defined tanned god.Your
hands trailed down his abs, exploring the ridges before tracing the v-line,
then coming to skim his happy trail. You leaned down to press a small kiss on
his body, which led to more leading downwards, until you decided to take your
tongue and start licking him. Namjoon had to stop you soon, or he wasn’t’ going
to able to control himself. Daddy made you pause, “Baby, just so you know we
won’t have sex right now. I want us to wait a little bit.” It took a second for
you to fully understand what he had just said. The plans of riding him had
suddenly vanished from your mind; instead they were replaced with a question
mark. “Why?”
“It’ll be better that way.” His hand cupped your face and you felt yourself
leaning into it. “But we’ll get to have fun tonight.” Hope grew in your chest.
Namjoon lifted you to settle on his thigh, shifting it slightly to test your
reaction. You were desperate for contact, but moved cautiously on his thigh.
The friction was wonderful against your clit, so you did it again and again,
the wetness spreading on the fabric of his pants. Daddy was growing harder, he
felt the way you wrapped yourself around his neck, face buried in the crook,
watching you ride his thigh faster. Soon, you would quickly learn that Daddy
would never let you cum so easily. He always had to work you to near breaking
point; he wanted a full show of the whining and begging. Namjoon made you get
off him; you sat anticipating the next bit of fun while he took off his pants
and briefs, leaving his cock on full display. He started to stroke himself
languidly, getting himself a short chuckle as he watched you look at him with
wide eyes. Truthfully, it was your first time seeing one up close, and Daddy
looked pretty big with his size.
You tentatively reached a hand out to touch him, then retracted, remembering to
ask first, “Can I daddy?” Namjoon guided your hand on his cock, moving it at a
pace that he liked, until he let go to place his arms behind his head to enjoy
the show. Daddy’s cock was hot to the touch, a vein present on the underside,
the head a shade of red that leaked precum from the slit, which made you wonder
about the taste. But when you leaned down to place your mouth on his dick,
Daddy made you stop, telling you that that was for another time. You pouted at
his answer. Was anyone going to have any fun tonight? By the end of the night,
Namjoon was the only one to succeed in getting release, when you wanted him to
return the favor he insisted that it was time for bed instead. He covered your
bodies with the duvet, pulling you close so that your back was pressed against
him and gave you a goodnight kiss on the neck. Meanwhile, you were stuck fuming
in the dark. He got you all riled up in school, during the car ride to his
apartment, and now you were stuck with an insatiable desire to get off.
Without really thinking it through, you slipped a hand down to your clit to
massage the little bud. The noises from your actions, and your presumed to be
quiet moans, got Daddy’s attention, enough for him to reach between your legs
to make you stop. His voice was angry, a sharp pierce that made your spine
shiver. Daddy didn’t punish you; he let you turn to face him so you could bury
yourself again into his neck, to soften the need to touch yourself. His scent
is always comforting, it took a little bit for the throbbing between your
thighs to subside, but you eventually ignored it. That is until the next
morning. The feeling was back; then again it was Daddy’s snoring that had woken
you up. You pushed the blanket off to survey the dim room. It was probably
about six. You turned towards Namjoon, who was sound asleep, your eyes
traveling down his body until it reached his morning wood, straining against
the briefs that he had put back on. Your hand gently skimmed the bulge, making
it twitch slightly. A naughty deed flashed through your mind, and before you
knew it you had climbed on top of Daddy. This would be a great wake-up call for
him; you were such a thoughtful person.
The grinding started slow, enough so Daddy had time to wake up and register
that he was being woken up differently today. When his eyes had fully opened,
you were moving harder and faster against his cock, loving the way the fabric
felt against you, how you could feel how big he was underneath you, when you
finally had sex he was definitely going to fill you up nicely. “Good morning
Daddy,” you whispered sweetly as Namjoon lifted his hands to grip your hips
tightly. It would only take about two seconds for him to yank down his
underwear and shove his cock into your tight pussy to fuck you properly.
Instead he focused on closing his eyes to enjoy the little alarm that you had
set up for him. He was taken aback when you eventually yanked down his briefs,
placing your pussy on his dick to move back and forth against the shaft,
covering it with your juice teasing the hell out of him. This was his place
babygirl. Which meant his rules. Namjoon ordered you to climb off, which you
immediately disobeyed causing him to move you. He grabbed you back to pull
across his lap, ass facing upwards. “This is for being naughty yesterday too,”
he growled into your ear as delivered the first slap.
The sting felt strangely pleasant, and after he hit you Namjoon grabbed the
flesh in his hands to leave a mark. He spanked the other cheek, but it only
spurred you on, as you wiggled your cute bum for more. Namjoon gave a little
sigh, realizing that he had hit the breaking point with you. “Daddy hit me
again. It feels good,” you begged the wetness between your legs dripping down
your thighs already. He would have to give in for today. “So spoiled. So
rotten,” were the words you heard before Daddy stuck two fingers into your
tender hole, the pleasure immediately taking hold of your mind.
Back then, you had promised yourself that it would be just fun. All sex and no
pure emotion. Mindless, meaningless, physical passion. You figured you would
wait until he took your virginity (and then after a few more rounds), then drop
him for another guy. However the days wore on, with Namjoon stating several
times that he wouldn’t fuck you until it was a ‘special day’. And you were
staring to get impatient real fast. What was the point of investing your time
if you weren’t being rewarded? In reality, you were getting your rewards; you
just hadn’t realized it at the moment. It was the little things that really
grabbed your attention. Being praised for studying or eating a proper meal were
more of a slight annoyance, and you didn’t care much for attention on bigger
issues like those. But just miniscule occurrences would make your heart melt
all over again. Giving you chocolate on those awful days when your period would
appear, pretending not to notice when you took one of his cologne bottles home
to spray on your pillowcase, hugs instead of words when you were particularly
upset about something. Namjoon always made sure to pay lots of attention to
you.
Whether it was taking notice on your health signs (both mental and physical),
helping you study (physics), or giving out extra kisses (forehead, neck, and
cheek), Daddy was there for you. So it didn’t surprise you when you heard heavy
footsteps approaching the back corner. The noise just caused you to curl into
yourself and turn so you were facing the chair’s backrest, counting the
miniscule diamonds that were imbedded into the fabric. A familiar hand placed
itself on your arm, shaking lightly. “Babydoll,” his deep, heavy voice never
failing to make you break out into goosebumps. He always had a long list of pet
names to call you, yet ‘babydoll’ was your absolute favorite. You ignored him,
even when his hand moved to your back, massaging in small circles. A beat
passed before he spoke again, “Do you still love me?” You couldn’t even snap
that question back at him. You knew it. He knew that you knew it. Namjoon meant
it every time when he said those three words. You turned towards him, sitting
up so that you were eye level with him. “I do. I never stopped.” Your voice was
soft, even though the feelings were always reciprocated; you always got
embarrassed whenever you told Daddy you loved him. Then Daddy smiled. He gave
you a kiss on the forehead, and then asked if you could go back to class for
him. He watched you shuffle off towards the exit, proud that his babygirl
didn’t get too upset.
He had had time to think in between lessons. That girl with the unconcerned
attitude and the reckless viewpoint was different from the girl that he had
come to love. Namjoon cared so so much. Deep down, he’s always been afraid of
losing you to something that would steal your interest away from him. He wanted
that happiness all to himself. So he would have to do whatever it took to get
you to be with him always. You trusted your Daddy one hundred percent. Namjoon
was going to give you everything. But this time everything actually meant
everything.
                                    ******
Daddy was full of surprises. From the minute that you stepped into the
apartment, the atmosphere had changed. Next thing you knew, you were stripped
from your clothing, down on all fours on the soft cotton bed, the only thing on
your mind was the feeling of Daddy pounding you from behind. Namjoon had always
known that you could get kind of loud, but he didn’t know that you would be
this vocal. It’s not as if you could help it. Daddy just made you feel so good!
For your first time, it actually didn’t hurt all too much, even though you’d
been told that it would be painful. The initial sting at the beginning wasn’t
all too bad, and that eventually faded within seconds. Daddy had slid into you
easily, even though he didn’t let you taste the strawberry lube that he had
used you soon figured out that sex was better than any sweet you had eaten.
Your arms were resting on the headboard of the bed, your hands gripping the
wood securely, while Daddy’s had his on your hips, the grip extremely tight. He
filled you up to the very brim, the feeling of your Daddy inside of you
completely addicting. Tears slowly slid down your cheeks from the mind-numbing
pleasure, and Namjoon had almost stopped weren’t for the way you were
screaming. Astonishingly, he was even being kind of lenient. “You can cum
whenever you want kitten,” Daddy had said as he watched you suck on his index
and middle fingers, minutes before he had ordered you to get on the bed on your
hands and knees.
Thank god for his permission, honestly, because you were about to real soon.
With the speed he was going at, combined with his hard thrusts, and his hand
that was toying with your clit, it wasn’t really a surprise that you would
unravel this quickly. You didn’t give him a warning, before you came around his
cock, Namjoon gave your ass a slap and just continued to plunge himself into
you, helping you ride out your high. Although you were finished, Namjoon wasn’t
quite there yet, and continued to fuck into you while you were oversensitive
and shaky. “Daddy! Stop…it hurts!” All he did was lower himself down so his
chest was pressed against your back, and even though you hated sweat, the
thought of disobeying him didn’t cross your mind when he growled out, “This is
a punishment with a mixed reward, love. Daddy’s doing this for all those times
I let you toy with me. Did you think I would let you get away with all those
stunts?” Strangely enough, you were accepting it as it was, the pain was oddly
enough starting to go away. “No…Daddy. I was a….really bad girl. I…need to be
punished…!” You had been really mischievous in the past. Pulling all those
seduction acts on your Daddy so he would stop what he was doing and play with
you. It started off innocently enough. Traipsing around his apartment in a tiny
tennis skirt with a shrunken cropped sweater that clung to your top. Pairing
one of his big, cozy sweaters with a teeny pair of short-shorts that only
covered the tops of your thighs.
You particularly chose clothing that was just a littlebit too tight or just a
littlebit too short. Nothing overtly dramatic, the items had to be the right
amount of scandalous so that Daddy would stare at you for a long minute, and
then say nothing. Even if he did say have something to say it would only be to
prevent you from wearing heels in that skirt. Or Daddy would get a good look at
you before saying it was windy outside, so you should put on something warmer.
Eventually your game increased, the deeds growing wilder. You padded into his
office in a new lavender colored lingerie set. It had small white polka dots
scattered on the set, with decorative, petite silk bows. Not too erotic, cute
enough for everyday wear, but the panties were cut in a way so that they’d show
off more skin. “Does this look good on me Daddy?” you poked his cheek with your
finger. Namjoon pushed his chair back to survey you, pressing his glasses back
on to his nose, while his eyes skimmed your form. You tilted your head
slightly, placing your hands behind you as if you were shy to his opinion. “It
looks good baby,” he got up to place a kiss on your forehead before swiveling
the chair back to his desk. This one obviously wasn’t a winner, it was just a
preshow. You went back into the other room to remove this set, and step into a
pink silk nightie that had small slits up the side. The bottom and top edges
were lined with lace and the straps were just a bit too long so that they would
submit to falling off your shoulders. Now this one made Namjoon swallow hard
before he grabbed your waist, pulling you forward. “No games today. I’ve got
work to finish, so you better not come back in here with something else.” You
gave him a pouty look, before sliding into his lap, latching your arms around
his neck.
“Can I at least stay here while you work?” Namjoon sighed, scooting his chair a
bit closer to the desk to resume grading, while he ignored the fidgeting you
were producing. At first, for a few seconds, you leaned your head on his
shoulder quietly, that is until you decided it was more fun to mess around with
his neck tie. Hands smoothing along the collar until it reached the tidy knot,
you tugged it loose, then unbuttoned two to expose about an inch of skin.
Beginning along the jaw, then trailing down the neck with butterfly kisses,
when you got to his collarbones you switched to sucking lightly on the golden
skin, just enough so it turned a faint pink. Daddy was the real winner here; he
managed to keep calm in nearly all these situations. You thought he would at
least get half hard. The man should really win an Oscar. One time, you had
almost managed to tip him towards the dark side. Namjoon didn’t cook (thank
god), but you did. In the kitchen, you were always experimenting with different
baked goods, it had to be something that had some sort of sweet cream or icing
or fruit with it. Foods that could be sucked on. You heard the door open, along
with the sound of jangling keys, the noise causing you to rush over and hug
your Daddy hello. He gave a small laugh, sweeping you up in strong arms, only
to be met with confusion once he realized that his hands were touching soft
skin. And that you weren’t wearing anything underneath that frilly apron.
“I made apple tart!” you cheered, tugging his arm along towards the kitchen,
making sure that he got a nice, full view of your ass. He sat down at the
table, eyes on the tasty looking pastry that sat in front of him, and then back
to you to watch you clean up the counter tops. Which one would be sweeter? By
the end of the night, there was a compromise, sort of. Daddy had come up behind
you to grind his erection into your ass, shoving you forward on the counter.
You begged out a plea to gather his attention into turning you around and
hoisting you onto the top. Daddy grabbed your legs to wrap around his body,
leaning in for a harsh, necessary kiss onto your hungry mouth. The two of you
eventually winded up in the bedroom with your clothes scattered in the hallway.
You were so sure that you were going to lose your virginity that day, until
Daddy realized what he was doing once he got on top of you. “No, we can’t. Not
like this, love.” You sat up, whining and reaching for him to touch you.
Namjoon glanced down at his boner, trying to come up with some sort of
solution. “How about a taste darling? Think that’ll be just as good.” You knew
that he meant for him to eat you, but before he could react quickly enough you
sank down onto his cock, lapping up the liquid that was at the end. It was
bitter, in kind of a pleasant way.
But his cum was warm and it slid down your throat nicely. Daddy was pleased as
well, letting out long groans, surprised that you were pretty good at this for
your first time. Really, you were just copying what you saw on those private,
filthy videos that Daddy thought were a secret. Occasionally you would sneak
onto his laptop to view pornography while he was out; indulging in an activity
that you wished you could do with your Daddy. A few times, you had almost been
caught, so you learned how to keep something else on a tab in case you needed
to close the video to preserve your innocence. He never caught on, even though
on somedays you went through three pairs of panties. Daddy released a huge load
into your mouth, catching you off guard, causing you to choke on his cum. You
pulled back, coughing, although Namjoon wasn’t having any of it, his fingers
wiping the white substance off your chin, only to shove them in your mouth so
you wouldn’t waste any of it. All of those moments had led to this one. All
because of your incessant need to act like a needy little whore at home.
Namjoon was just having too much fun. Your body was his, and he could do
whatever he damn well pleased. You clung to the headboard desperately, pushing
your hips back to meet his thrusts every time. It just felt fucking good. Daddy
knew how tight you were, the way you clenched around his cock, yet he moved in
and out of your hole with such ease he absentmindedly thought why he hadn’t
done this sooner. “Shit, hold on. I’m close babydoll,” voice husky, the words
driving you wild. A few sloppy thrusts later, Daddy came into the condom,
spilling the treat you would normally swallow into the rubber. Namjoon
carefully pulled himself out, removing the condom to throw into the trash. He
got up to go to the bathroom, cleaning himself up and returned to the room with
a warm washcloth, you sprawled on the bed on your back, exhausted, yet
completely blissed out. Daddy gently started cleaning your pussy, a look of
pure soft pleasure resting on his face that you matched with your own look of
heaven. You fought the sleepy urge to shut your eyes, wanting to voice out the
words that you meant with every fiber of your being, “I love you Daddy.”
“I love you too.” Namjoon opting for laziness tossed the cloth into the
wastebasket, before climbing into the bed, giving you a sweet kiss on the
forehead. The blanket was pulled on top of your bodies, an arm wrapped around
you as you snuggled into his side. Strangely enough, you could have sworn you
heard him say, “I’m only giving you fifteen minutes,” and then easing into
rest. Daddy was always on time, the blanket tugged off to expose your soft skin
once again, the cold waking you up to see him rolling on another condom. “Round
two darling,” he said, pulling you in for a kiss that woke you up completely.
He was already hard again, the mere thought of it inside once again was making
you wet. Daddy slung your legs onto his shoulders, his hands reaching to trail
down your body possessively. Namjoon hadn’t had sex in nearly a year, one
session a night just wasn’t enough for him. And it certainly wasn’t enough for
you.
***** Homewrecker *****
Chapter Summary
     So I've written parts of the sequel to this as well as some of the
     final chapters to this story instead of this chapter because my mind
     likes to wander around too much. I just think that's the silliest
     thing ever, like my procrastination comes around to work on other
     things but not that one thing I need to get done. Anyhow, this is
     shorter, but I've lined up the story the way I like with this and I
     think you'll like it too. Go nuts.
Ok, so maybe you hadn’t always been one hundred percent completely honest with
Namjoon. Recently, you had stumbled upon a couple of forgotten trinkets left by
an ex-girlfriend, causing you to ask your Daddy how many people he had been
with. The number wasn’t astonishing, a verbal list of all the women that he had
been with left his lips as he sipped his morning coffee. “What about men?
Haven’t you been with a guy?” the words left your mouth, before you had time to
think about it. Where had that come from? Daddy shook his head. “Not long
enough to call them boyfriends.” Namjoon just figured you were curious, since
you were at that age to question. In reality you had been randomly questioned
by your mother, who had had time to think about your obsession with Hollywood
starlets and linking it with your sexuality. You just slammed the door in her
face. As if you could find an Audrey Hepburn or an Elizabeth Taylor in this day
and age. If you were going to be with anyone it would be the best to offer.
When would the time come to finally move out into Daddy’s apartment? You
couldn’t live there forever. “What about you love?” You shook your head, “No,
just you,” You knew you shouldn’t lie. Namjoon had always told you the truth
about anything so you should absolutely return the favor. But something in you
urged you not to spill, because if you did you’d probably end up telling the
story of how Yoongi tossed you away like garbage.
            That entire fiasco was just an embarrassing jumble of emotions you
refused to confront. There was also this other thing that happened, but you
wouldn’t tell Namjoon until much later. Way later. Maybe on his deathbed.
Secrets didn’t normally eat you alive, yet this one seemed to have a bigger
appetite, so you kept on shoving it into the back of your mind, far away from
your mouth. Daddy was going to go on some sort of work trip soon. Being the
newest member of the staff led him to being saddled with more of the heavy work
than some of the more older employees, so he was taking a month away to go look
at different learning techniques or something educational related. You weren’t
really sure, it all sounded so tedious. A month wasn’t very long, you would be
fine. But Daddy thought otherwise, which is why it surprised you so much when
he said that he had gotten a friend to look after you. “I can take care of
myself,” you pouted, fear forming as sweat on your palms, and for a few seconds
you thought he knew what you had done. “He’s just someone to keep you company
kitten. Kind of a ‘special’ friend, I don’t want you to be lonely.” Your pulse
returned to a normal beat. He didn’t know anything, Daddy was just being
himself.
            “We’re going to go meet him today. Is that alright?” Namjoon didn’t
like the fact that he was going to be gone for this long.  One month was plenty
of enough time for a good girl to go back to being bad, then again maybe he
just cared too much? He briefly remembers an argument over some pretty bag that
you wanted and you refused to listen. “Be a good baby.” Namjoon warned, trying
to keep his breath level. “I’ll do what I want.”With those words, he promptly
carried you over to the couch for a spanking, after a couple of tears and a
lollipop, had you reluctantly agreed to listen to Daddy better. Namjoon didn’t
want all of his hard work to go to waste; he had used a tremendous amount of
reinforcement and praise to tame his little kitten. You hopped over into his
arms to give him a peck on the lips; he was like a teddy bear in the morning.
All rumpled clothes, stubbly face, and fluffy bedhead; Daddy could be so cozy
out of his usual sleek intellectual look. About a half hour later, both of you
were in the car, on the way to a café to meet this new ‘friend’. Namjoon was
feeling a bit more positive about all this. He had known Jimin for a while and
he was pretty sure that you would get along just fine.
                                    ******
            Jimin sat in the side of the warm, dimly lit café sipping on a
latte and repeatedly checking his watch. He wasn’t really nervous, a little
antsy maybe, since this request from Namjoon was a bit different from anything
he had asked him to do before. They were good friends, although that title used
to have the words ‘with benefits’ beside of it, but nowadays they were just
companions. Jimin didn’t really remember when exactly he had met Namjoon; then
again he was just grateful for meeting the man. He had helped Jimin for a
little while, money troubles and a place to stay used to occupy Jimin’s mind
constantly, thankfully he was able to support himself fully now. He hadn’t
heard from Namjoon in a couple of weeks, when he got a phone call from him
yesterday, asking about housesitting of some sort. Whatever it was, Jimin was
happy to do anything.
            The doorbell rang at the front, signaling the arrival of more
people and at the end of the crowd that swept in, Jimin saw his tall, blond
friend surveying the café for him. Right beside of him, was you, looking
drastically different from how you usually looked when you use to visit Jimin.
Daddy spotted the man that was supposed to be looking after you while he was
away, and Jimin stood up to greet him. Your eyes widened in surprise for a
second, before snapping back into gullibility. This could also be another thing
that Daddy didn’t have to know. “Hey! It’s nice to see you again!” Jimin was
all eye-smile towards Namjoon, also having taken the oblivious route. “Of
course it is!” Daddy exhaled a little awkward sigh, “Well, Jimin, this is my
girl,” and Daddy nudged you a little forward, you gave Jimin a gracious smile,
signaling with your eyes that you’d talk later. “Baby go ahead and sit down,
I’ll get us some hot chocolate,” Namjoon left the two of you, crossing over to
the other side where the counter was. You both slid onto the chairs at the same
time, Jimin giving you an embarrassed smile trying to figure out what to say.
He didn’t have to. “Don’t tell my dad. I know what I’m doing, and Namjoon
doesn’t have to know….so if you could just…,” you trailed off not knowing what
to do after that. “Oh…..yeah! Sure! I mean, it’s fine! Uh….” Jimin stammered,
clearing his throat and you giggled at his reaction. Back when you were still
hung up over Yoongi, you stopped over at Jimin’s office all the time. You were
really grateful for that random lunch with your father, since it led you to
Jimin.
            He as well had seen you differently, he always worked late, so you
would visit at night, usually clad in a faux fur coat, cigarette in hand, feet
jammed into black loafers and over-the-knee socks. Red eyes, tissue crumpled in
a pocket, breathing out words in a babble. He used to fall asleep on his desk
all the time, but when you visited, he would always have the greatest
conversations until the sun barely peaked out. Jimin understood well. You were
lonely most of the day; this was the only time when you didn’t feel like
complete crap. He let you sit on the edge of his desk, on his lap, on his back
when he would do pushups on the floor of his office to stay awake. You gave
Jimin back hugs when he made coffee, pressing your face into his shirt and he
would smile at your cuteness. He kissed you once, but you just wanted a friend
so you made him stop. By the time you had met Daddy, you only visited him once
or twice a week, when Christmas rolled around, you stopped altogether. It
didn’t worry him; he just figured you were busy with something. He would have
never guessed it would be Namjoon. You looked happier, skin glowing; the pink
sweater dress you were wearing was adorable as well as the little red kitten
heels on your feet, although there was a slight uneasiness on your face.
            Your Daddy returned with the hot chocolates in his hand, and Jimin
watched the way you two looked at each other. The conversation flowed well, the
details laid simple, by the time the drinks were gone, Jimin had offered to
help pack, which Namjoon accepted. The three of you arrived at the apartment,
with Namjoon going straight to storage to gather the luggage. Jimin followed
you into the kitchen, where you offered him a shortbread cookie. You were
closer to him, and Jimin gave you a pleasant look as he ate his treat, “It’ll
be like old times. I promise.” You shook your head, “I have to tell you
something. Later. It’s real awful Jiminnie, I feel terrible!” the panic rose in
your chest, Jimin embracing you since it looked like you were about to cry
terribly fast. “Maybe it isn’t so bad,” he mused rubbing your back. “No it’s
not like that. And you can’t tell Daddy either, he’ll get so mad.” The sound of
the door opening caught your attention, as you ran towards the entrance to help
your Daddy with his suitcases Jimin was suddenly thankful for all the time he
had to catch up with you. Clearly this was going to take time to sort out. You
were suddenly back to the giddy little girl he had seen in the café, Namjoon
certainly had a positive effect on your personality. Jimin was thinking about
what he’d ask you, while pulling down books from the shelves in the office. He
wanted to know how you got involved with your teacher, noting the way you
called him ‘Daddy’, what about that other guy you had been with?
                                    ******
            You waited until he was dropped off at the noisy airport. Faking a
smile was astonishingly easy to do when you saw Daddy’s face adorned with an
adorable grin, waving goodbye with the hand that wasn’t holding his carryon.
You and Jimin walked back to his car in silence, once you slid into the soft
seats, the cap popped off your thoughts, and it spilled out in waves, Jimin
holding your hand the entire story.
                             A little while back….
           You think it was about a month since you lost your virginity to
Namjoon. The sky was gray, the hazy hue gave off such a lazy vibe that you
decided to take a walk around the city to ward off napping the entire day.
Daddy was visiting his family for the weekend so you didn’t have anything to
do. You were wandering around the edges of the park, debating whether to go to
the duck pond or head towards a nearby coffee shop. As you sat down on a bench
to prolong your decision making, you rummaged around in the pockets of you pink
suede jacket, looking for a certain YSL lip gloss that you always kept in this
jacket. Except it wasn’t there, no matter how many times you stuck your hands
in the same spots. You knew where you forget it at, and it was the last place
that you wanted to visit. Your mind started to debate whether it was worth
going back to your old boyfriend’s house for a lip gloss, but then again, it
cost more than $30, and you couldn’t just let that go to waste. So you pushed
aside all doubt, pulled out your phone to text Yoongi if you could go back to
get your stuff, since the makeup wasn’t the only thing you forgot. Even after
all that shit he pulled on you; the will power to erase his number was never
present in your body. Surprisingly, you got a fast response, although the
‘sure’ had three s’s and double u’s and e’s. You got up slowly, calming
yourself for the interaction. Get in get out. It’s a job. Your phone buzzed,
signaling a text from Daddy, the little bubble making your heart sink with
guilt. Daddy didn’t even know Yoongi existed in your universe. He would never
find out, this was ok.
            You hailed a cab, focusing on keeping your breathing regular during
the fifteen minute ride. Avoiding the music hall was quite simple, since it was
nowhere near the English department, but sometimes you’d catch glimpses of
Yoongi in the main office or in the parking lot, and the mere sight of him made
you shiver in either anger or sorrow, you could never tell. He had changed his
hair color twice, it was red for a while, then it turned to blonde, which
really suited him wholeheartedly, that you couldn’t deny. You never saw her
again in the school, so you weren’t really sure if he was dating at all. The
taxi stopped in front of his building, you got out cautiously, payed the skinny
driver, then stood out on the sidewalk for a bit to gather your emotions. Just
go in and get your things. Do not slap him. Make sure you let him know that
you’re better than him without crying. Call him ‘asshole’ at least once. Ask
him if he’s happy. Wait, don’t ask him that. Steal a Kumamon plushy
instead.Finally, you just strode up towards his apartment, deciding it was just
better to let things play out instead of almost coming up with a murder plan.
There is no room for hesitation. You knocked on his door twice, hearing a
clatter of glass knocking against each other behind the fixture, before it
opened. And there he was. Skinnier, paler, and prettierthan ever before. Eye
bags are permanently etched on to his face, a gray hoodie hangs off his frame,
and those awful, clunky sneakers that you lied about liking were on his feet.
The air always seems to change whenever he was around, as if his own aura was
that strong. Yoongi’s eyes widened as he took in the fact that you were
actually here and that this wasn’t a complete joke. You looked so sweet,
dressed in candy colors, with such a serene look on your face, exactly like a
princess. He stumbled forward for a hug, one that you didn’t reciprocate to,
happy to see you that you were back for him. His princess was here.
            Yoongi didn’t notice that you smelled different. The notes in your
hair mixed with the scent of Namjoon’s, although you immediately noticed his
aroma. It was alcohol, pure booze, and past his head you could see the bottles
lined up on his table, as well as the floor. You were taller than him too, the
inches on your heels giving you an advantage as you looked down at him with
disdain. You sighed, “Where is it?” Yoongi didn’t pull back, so you did it for
him. “Where’s my stuff?” you bore your eyes directly into his, hoping that
maybe you would get to slap him, even if it was just so he could gain conscious
again. All he did was grin sleazily, “What’s the rush princess?” You pushed
past him, flicking on the light to illuminate the mess that surrounded you.
Holy hell. It’s as if an entire liquor store just dropped the contents of their
dumpster in his apartment, every flat surface was just covered in garbage. You
wove your way around bottles, cans, and scraps of papers scribbled with lyrics
until you reached the sofa to take hold of his leather jacket. Gingerly sitting
down on the very edge of the cushion, you started working on removing a couple
of pins on the lapels. Yoongi knocks over a tower of cans, swinging down to
grab at a bottle, taking a large swig as he makes his way over to you. “Hey! I
like those!” his hand grabs at a sleeve, but you quickly smack it down, glaring
at his eyes for the sudden interference. “They’re mineand I’m taking them
back.” You ignore the sting on your own hand that came from hitting the area
where his rings were, the same old rings that you use to play around with
during lunch.
            He bristles at your retort, mouth turned up, “I don’t remember you
being so mean,” he states. “You’re a real piece of work. Did you really think
I’d be nice to someone like you?” you shake your head at his idiocy, while
turning the sleeve on the right side inside out. As cheesy and girly as it is,
back when you had fallen for this louse, you had sewn a soft gold heart pendant
on the inside of the sleeve, marking a reminder that Yoongi would always wear
your heart on his sleeve. Namjoon had one on the inside of his favorite blazer
as well. The gold heart glinted in the artificial lighting, winking annoyingly
to remind you that you once felt heavenly around the sloppy man that sat next
to you. You sewed the little charm in before Yoongi had taken off for his trip,
it made you confident in your relationship, this thing reinforced your special
connection with each other. Surprisingly, it looked as if someone had attempted
to rip it off, the stitches loose, a bit of area around the ornament was cut
up, the edges frayed on the cuts. Yoongi leans his head on your shoulder, “She
got real mad when she saw that. Thought I was cheating on her.” You sigh,
“Makes my work easier, whatever. A beat passes, then out of nowhere, he places
a random kiss on your cheek; you recoil in surprise, a semi-mad expression
across your face. “Don’t’ ever do that again. Only my Daddy kisses me now.”
“Daddy huh? Is he better than me?” “Of course.” He lets out a strangled groan,
collapsing his head onto his palms, “I know I fucked up with you. I wasn’t
serious enough and I did it again. I’m sorry I didn’t love you back.” What was
he saying? You rolled your eyes towards the ceiling; just how much liquor did
he drink? “You’re a stone cold atrocity.  You couldn’t even get a girlfriend to
keep you from drinking so much. God, you’re hopeless!” With a final yank, the
gold piece was off the jacket, it’s weight having no impact on your hand,
similar to holding a couple of grapes.
            Yoongi had some trouble with alcohol, it used to be minor when you
were dating him; sadly, it seems that he’s gone full-blown crazy with no one to
remind him not to rely on such a substance. She didn’t even have the ability to
control her man like you could. At least you would threaten to mess with him if
he didn’t get himself situated and acted like a normal person. This was just
awful to look at. You attempt to stand, yet he boldly wraps his arms around
your waist to keep you from leaving. “I miss you like hell. I never should have
gone on that trip.” He leans his head on your hip, digging his fingers into
your body as his voice scratches out syllables. “Let go jerk.” “I knew about
the heart. I know you wanted it as a secret, but I knew it was there. I love
it. I really do.” His face is tilted up, his eyes full of regret, while yours
are softening down to jelly, your brain abandoning the loser mentality in favor
for a more familiar, nostalgic one. You sit back down, lifting your hand to cup
his face. “Really?” Yoongi nods, lifting his hands to clasp around your arm,
well-known calluses roughing across your skin. A sentimental feeling floods
your body, the memories of crying at night and experiencing loneliness at the
worst moments are being erased, one by one, as they get replaced with such a
comfortable reminiscence of the man who let you talk about dreams in his arms
and made you feel like an actual  princess. That Yoongi was still here, right
in front of you, it was real. So you didn’t stop him when he leaned in for a
more suitable kiss, right on your mouth. It was cold and harshly bitter from
the booze, yet you could feel soft, sugary desire right behind it.
            There’s not much to it, anybody could guess what happened next. It
was as if someone had magically turned you back into your old self again. Kim
Namjoon is a total stranger. Min Yoongi is the man you’d given your golden
heart to. It felt like the rainy day car ride all over again. Just another
puppy love struck girl seeking approval, affection, and validation from a cool,
reserved guy. A kiss leads to more kisses, the need for him increases as he
goes for your neck, while his hands go underneath your skirt, your own hands
are entangled in his blond hair. Not even a minute later, he has you on the
bed, tearing both of your clothes off with reckless abandon, leaving his rings
on because he knows how much you like them. Yoongi pauses, looking over your
body slowly, eyes memorizing your form from head to toe, the last time he was
with you it had been too dark to see. He was the first man to ever be with you
naked, although he wasn’t the first to ever see you naked. Yoongi leans down
for another kiss, taking his time to savor your lips, before hovering over your
ear, “I’ll make up everything, I promise. I don’t want to regret anymore.” It
didn’t matter what he said, most of it was now erased from your memory
permanently. You two made love in that little apartment. That’s what it felt
like at the time. Love can be disguised in so many ways, this particular form
so cleverly veiled in a drunken haze. He was so sweet, it felt like real love.
Namjoon had never done anything like this; he fucked you until you were a
sleepy mess. You cried out Yoongi’s name, dug your nails into his back, and
wrapped your legs around him to get even closer. Moans were long, drawn out
sighs of pleasure, the noises making Yoongi chuckle at how cute you were.
Astonishingly, Yoongi released out moans to meld with your own, whenever you
started to clench around him, he got startled into releasing a deep, shy sound
of his own. By the time you two were finished, the sun had set, casting the
world into dusk, as you could see from the bathroom window. Yoongi had cuddled
for a little, before pulling on his pants to go write music, rejuvenated from
your activity minutes before.
            You cleaned yourself up the best you could, with a lone towel on
the bathroom floor from god knows where. Your reflection in the mirror showed a
happy, glowing girl, warm on the inside and out. As you started to put your
clothes back on, you heard the front door rattle from a key being placed in,
then the swing of it opening. “Yoongi? Are you here? I’m really sorry for
leaving like that, it won’t happen again,” you know that voice all too well. It
didn’t matter that you had only heard it once for a couple of minutes; it was
stuck in your brain for all eternity. The warmth had instantly vanished, a
cruel, malicious cold settling into your bones. You looked in the mirror again,
the glow fading fast; it was being replaced by something entirely too familiar.
You were suddenly sixteen again, a miserable, forgotten pest.Comfort is
unrecognizable, while neglect has become the norm. The sound of a relaxed
conversation leaks through the door, causing you to awaken old feelings for a
final confrontation. You look through the drawers quietly, trying not to alert
anyone outside, until you finally find your lip gloss in the last one behind a
box of Q-tips covered in a thin layer of dust. The heart and pins are tucked
safely into your pocket. All you have to do, it to climb out the window and
down the fire escape. Simple enough, but first you needed to do something so
that they’d never work out again. For him, you wrote a note on the mirror with
a lost Sharpie. For her, you turned on the shower as high as it would go on.
You opened the window, sitting on the sill, waiting for the silence that would
be immediately followed by yelling. She hears it, her voice shrieking out
venom, “Who is in there?! Who have you been fucking?! I knew it smelled like
sex when I walked in you lying shit!” Yoongi retaliates, although you don’t
know with what, then when glass shatters against a wall is when you decide it’s
time to leave.
            The screaming can be heard from outside, so you don’t fear that
you’ll be caught considering how animated their shadows look from the slanted
lighting. You successfully climb your way down the fire escape, amazingly
without a single cut or bruise, landing on the pavement safely since the last
ladder did not stick when lowered. The alley was dark, seemingly empty, the
area spooking you into running out of there. The street lights were on, casting
a yellowish hue over the pedestrians returning home from the grocery store. You
exhaled a breath; you did it, all by yourself. A taxi is hailed, and as you sit
in the back, applying red tinted gloss to your lips, is when it hits you.
Because your phone buzzes. It’s Daddy, with two missed calls as well as three
messages asking you how you were. If you had eaten, if you were taking a nap so
don’t worry I’m just checking, if you missed him. You called him, telling him
you were fine, that you loved him, the words holding true feelings that you
hoped would reach out to Daddy. Yoongi said he didn’t want to regret anymore,
so was he giving that regret to you? Your head filled with panic. Because what
you just did was awful. It was rotten. It was vile. And you hoped with
everything in your soul, that he would never find out that for a few brief
hours, you had loved another man more than him. Because Daddy would kill
Yoongi, then erase you from everything. Daddy would forget about you, just like
Yoongi did.
***** Update: I'm not Dead *****
Chapter Summary
     This is just to clarify that I'm not abandoning this story, because
     honestly I am in way too deep in this thing to give up (holy shit).
     But I just really want to write it right, so I've been constantly
     revamping it, until I ran out of steam at the end of October and just
     gave up and started binging on old Friends episodes. My fault, but
     the past 2 months have given me time to write some new stuff that I'm
     going to roll out maybe tomorrow? I dunno, but I will finish this, I
     can promise you that cross my heart-hope to fly-stick a goddamn
     cupcake in my eye. In the meantime enjoy this piece I wrote like a
     week before Halloween, it's not even Halloween themed, I got inspired
     by a some dumb TV movie. Do take note that it's probably not very
     good, but it is something. Send help, have a nice day
           Namjoon doesn’t get jealous. He didn’t need to. It just wasn’t in
his nature and also there wasn’t really a reason to be jealous considering how
his life had gone. He was blessed pretty well in the genetics department, good
hair, good teeth, nice skin, along with the gift of knowledge and a rather
amazing ability to communicate rather smoothly with other people. So when he
sees you sitting on the lap of track and field star Jeon Jungkook, he doesn’t
recognize the feeling in his chest; all he knows is that he doesn’t like it.
            He sips on his morning cup of coffee, studying the way you giggle
at Jungkook’s jokes and how the high school boy’s hand rests on your knee. He
knows he shouldn’t be spying, but if it involved someone just as handsome as he
was, then maybe he should get a pass just this once. Namjoon seems to be having
a slight case of déjà vu, back in college when it was just him and Seokjin,
Namjoon clearly remembers the type of girls that were attracted to them. Not
surprisingly, the two had their own fanclubs of some sort, Jin’s was a little
bigger than his, with his own admirers being quite memorable. Now the one thing
that Namjoon used to be absolutely sure about was that brain won over brawn, it
always did for him. However, some of his devotees would occasionally flock over
to Jin’s crowd so that the group could view the man while he worked out in the
gym.
            They always came back to him, but it really stuck that some women
wanted to see a show, rather than banter about 20th century literature, and it
made him wonder sometimes if he was a boring, pretty face. Then again, a show
is just a show, and it has to end sometime. The reason why he’s stuck with
brains for so long, is because knowledge tends to have a presence everywhere,
it’s consistent, and having the ability to wow someone with your brain is a
thousand times more satisfying than showing off how much he could bench press.
            Also he clearly remembers experiencing no jealousy when he saw his
groupie’s hop over to the gym for the third time in a row. It just didn’t
happen.
            The bell rang, signaling the beginning of classes, and Namjoon
watched you try to leave. This Jungkook character had some other ideas, as his
hands gripped your waist preventing you from walking away, and Namjoon has the
pleasure of seeing you face Jungkook with your hands on his shoulders, standing
between his legs, something that you only did with your Daddy. He can’t read
lips very well, but he knows for certain that whatever is coming out of Jeon
Jungkook’s lips rights now is something flirty and a little provocative. There
was a very high chance that you were being asked out right now.
            Namjoon expects you to reject him, wanting to see you shake your
head or start rambling that you had a boyfriend. A small part of him wanted to
see you smack Jungkook, however; that seemed highly unlikely. Instead he sees
you nodding, followed by a grin, followed by your hand sliding down from his
shoulder to his bicep in a ‘friendly’ manner. Namjoon grinds his teeth in
annoyance, desperate to know what you just agreed to. Did he want to borrow a
pen? Was he asking you to join the track team? No, wait you hated exercise. So
he was definitely asking you for your underwear. That had to be it.
            Your Daddy watches you scramble off to your first class, right
after the 2nd bell rings, and smug, irritating Jungkook shoves his hands into
his pockets like a nuisance, also enjoying the view. Namjoon turns back into
his classroom, waiting patiently for the rest of the students to settle down
before he began attendance. He didn’t want to deal with this kid first thing in
the morning, then again Namjoon could be a bit of jerk when he wanted to. He
didn’t believe in teachers abusing their powers just because they felt like it,
on the other hand…..who gives a shit? Jeon Jungkook is the last person to enter
first period, yet Namjoon marks him tardy even though his foot crosses the
doorway a microsecond before the final bell rings. “I’m sorry Mr. Jeon, I don’t
make the rules here.” He shrugs nonchalantly.
            And that’s only the beginning of the torment that he dispels upon
the poor boy for the next 45 minutes.
                                    ******
            “Hi Daddy!” You skip into the empty classroom, planting yourself in
front of Namjoon, who doesn’t even look up from the stack of papers that he’s
holding. “Hey,” is all you get and you start bouncing up and down on your toes,
trying to get his attention. “Daddy? Daddy come on let’s take a break!” You
yank the documents out of his hands, tossing them onto his desk, and before he
can protest, you jump up into his arms, wrapping yourself like a koala around
his frame, head resting on his shoulder. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” you
snuggle a bit more, inhaling a whiff of his cologne.
            “Of course I am,” you can tell he’s smiling now, his voice at a
lighter tone. You climbed off your Daddy, satisfied that he was happy now.
“What are we doing today?” you ask while settling into the rolley chair,
tucking your legs underneath you. “Oh, same as always. How’s your day?” Namjoon
would usually spend 10 or so minutes discussing the lesson plan, for right now,
education was taking a back seat. “Um, it’s good.” Good? Just good? He
swallows, “Really baby?” You nod, “Yeah, I made a friend.” “Really? Who is it?”
And Namjoon mentally kicks himself for sounding so eager. “His name’s Kookie,
he’s in your first Daddy.”
            You see your Daddy take of his glasses, cleaning the lenses with a
tissue, even though they looked just fine. “I recall a Jungkook in my first
period.” “He’s a nice boy. He asked me to study with him after school.” Namjoon
snaps up. “Are you going?” You tilt your head to the right, why was Daddy
acting so alert? “Yeah, it’s in the library.” He sighs heavily, running a hand
through his hair, “Alright kitten. What time will you be home?” “Umm, before
sunset? I dunno really.” Honestly, Daddy was looking so stressed out right now
you were starting to get worried. “I can go……..right?”
            “Of course, study hard darling.” He forces out a smile. Even you
can tell it’s fake as hell, causing you get up to kiss him right, hoping it
would calm him down a little at whatever he was freaking out about. You feel
Daddy relax into the kiss, molding his lips against yours and you let out a
little moan. “Hey, let’s do dirty things when we get home.” your words are tiny
whispery sounds, your eyes locked onto his as you press yourself onto his
frame. Namjoon does feel slightly more relaxed. You were going to be at school,
under the supervision of the librarians who ran a pretty tight ship down there,
what was he to worry about?
                                    ******
            Actually, scratch that, he had a lot to worry about. As soon as he
got home, his mind flashes back to every naughty thing he’s ever done with you
inside the private confines of his classroom, just imagine what this Jungkook
kid could do to you inside a soundproof study room. His brain tried to flip on
him, reassuring that his baby would never cheat, no matter how smooth or built
or tempting a high school student was. She wanted Namjoon for a reason, a very
specific reason, and she still had those thoughts. She doesn’t want a boy, she
wants a man who can take care of her.
            Besides, he was only in high school, he couldn’t be that good in
the bedroom yet.
            You get home before sunset, just like you promised, and your Daddy
scans the skin that’s most likely to receive hickeys as you answer his question
on what you two did. “Just essay stuff, he helped out pretty- Daddy why are you
looking at me like that?” Namjoon stops, trying to find an answer, although
doesn’t have to as you reach up, tugging at his necktie until he bends down to
kiss you. The next two or so hours are a blur, as Daddy has you on your back,
pounding into your pussy and hitting all the right spots for you to forget
every word except for his name. Underneath his body, you can do no wrong, you
are an absolute angel, writhing and shouting for him and for him only.
            Your throat is hoarse by the end of the night, Namjoon proud of
himself for fucking you until you were completely blissed out. He was the only
man in your life; nobody could compete with Kim Namjoon. In spite of getting
good dick the night before, the next morning he was baffled to see you still
talking to Jungkook, his hand resting quite tightly on your hip, as you sipped
hot tea with honey to soothe your throat. It’s not as if you were oblivious to
signs of attraction, so why were you still there? Maybe you were just
completely blind? If that boy’s hand moves towards your ass, Jungkook was going
to have to look for a donor for a new one.
            In Jungkook’s eyes, Mr. Kim had suddenly gone from being a decent
teacher to an absolute trash bag. Everything he turned in came back marked in
red, the white sheet riddled with trivial errors, along with a number of
comments in the margins. It was like Mr. Kim was trying to force out a bad
grade. It also didn’t help that he was always ferociously glaring at the boy
whenever he made eye contact, Jungkook was pretty much convinced his English
teacher was attempting to roast him alive. Not to mention he was also
completely confused about grammar rules, and was starting to second guess
himself on easy things like where to place a comma.
            You, on the other hand, were trying to save his grades from
plummeting into the ground, since Kookie came complaining on how Mr. Kim was
suddenly so harsh towards him. Daddy got heated whenever you mentioned Kookie’s
name, nonetheless; you wanted to help a friend. “Daddy mark that out, he put it
in the right place,” you placed a finger on the red dash that ran across the
semicolon. Namjoon gave you a look swarmed with doubt, eyebrow raised, “I think
I know what I’m doing.” “No you’re just being mean,” you grab the whiteout to
clean up the mess yourself, sticking your tongue out at him. Namjoon felt his
blood rise. He was losing.
            And as the days wore on and more study sessions were planned,
Namjoon just grew pettier as he targeted Jungkook as soon as he stepped into
his classroom. Jungkook was actually quite certain that Mr. Kim hated him for
whatever dumb reason teachers hated on students for. His affection for you had
grown calculated. Which is honestly the weirdest way to describe any
relationship, yet that’s how it felt like. Daddy would ask you why you didn’t
want to spend time with him or study with him and when you said anything he got
displeased, then he would randomly pull out a gift as a bribe for you to take.
You didn’t understand any of it at all, Daddy always told you to do well
academically. What was he so mad about?
            Namjoon doesn’t get jealous. He doesn’t need to. It wasn’t in his
nature. The final straw for him is when you told him that you were going to
Kookie’shouse to finish studying. Tension had been thick between you two for
the past week, and it was all coming down to this. “Seriously?! Ok, baby you’re
not going, all that boy wants to do is get in your pants. You’re staying home.”
Your shoulders drop in disbelief. “He is not! We’re not doing anything.”
“Darling, its sweet to try and defend him, but Daddy knows what he is talking
about. I see the way he looks at you and the way you let him touch you.
Studying is basically foreplay for whatever that little bastard has planned.”
            You let out an angry groan, stomping your foot on the carpet,
“Daddy for the last time. It’s. Not. Like. That.” “Yes. It. Is.” He throws
right back at you. You weren’t backing down from this, because you actually
knew you were right. Kookie hadn’t done anything with you or on you. He was
actually helping you out, and a very nice friend. Sure he was a bit handsy,
then again he was just someone who liked contact with people. And even if he
was like that, you wouldn’t leave your Daddy. He needed to have some faith.
            “I do this because I love you.” “It doesn’t feel like love.” A vein
in Namjoon’s temple pulses in anger at your words. He gets up out of his chair,
stalking over to your form, glaring down into your eyes, you glaring back, arms
crossed defiantly as he delivers his speech. “If Daddy didn’t love you, he
wouldn’t bother to ask you how you’re feeling, how you’re thinking. Daddy
wouldn’t ask if you were eating, he wouldn’t care at all, because why would he?
Daddy doesn’t know these things? Well he does. And Daddy knows to protect
what’s his when a horny piece of shit only wants to use you for your body.”
            He expects to see you shrinking down. He should be seeing you
averting your eyes, trying to curl up like a mouse and hide. Instead you do the
unthinkable. Your hand smacks the side of his face, leaving Namjoon stunned for
a good 2 seconds while you run off into the bathroom yelling “I’m still
going!!” After his shock wears off, he goes after you, but doesn’t make it in
time as you slam the door shut, locking it quickly. He strikes the door several
times, “Baby, open up!” “No!” Your yell sounds louder as the tiles seem to
reflect back in volume. “You better open up this door if you want your
punishment to be easier.” “No, I don’t deserve to be punished!” Namjoon beats
on the door again, and when he raises his fist to once more to bang extra loud
on the wood is when he hears sobbing.
            Namjoon rests his forehead on the wood, his fist relaxed back into
a palm. Crying, especially from you, was something he could never take.
“Babydoll, why are you crying?” Daddy’s voice sounds like it does when he’s
cuddling you. Your speech is broken, yet you’re able to spit out your thoughts.
“Daddy tells me to go out and talk to good people, then when I do he doesn’t
like it! What do you want me to do?!” Namjoon lets out a quiet groan for
himself. Oh god, he’s done worse, he’s actually confusing his babygirl.
“Darling open the door. Daddy’s not gonna punish you.” The lock clicks and
Namjoon pushes it open, wrapping you up in a hug. You continue crying, gripping
onto his shirt tightly, Namjoon picking you up to carry to the bed.
            The two of you lay there, Daddy stroking your hair while your sobs
turned into sniffles. Even though it was the most blatant thing about you, your
Daddy could forget that you were still a girl. You were 17, barely a woman. You
still needed to be taught certain things, and you kind of looked up to him to
do that. Little girls needed friends, even if they were touchy boys that he
didn’t like, but if you said you were fine then he needed to trust that notion.
Envying a high school friendship wasn’t normal in any circumstance. Your Daddy
just needed to learn how to read more properly into situations, and not jump to
conclusions.
            It was hard letting go of his baby. She used to be so happy,
thinking about him and only him for days on end. You still love him
wholeheartedly, nothings really changed. He just needs to settle down. Jungkook
is the opposite of Namjoon, attention grabber, showoff, etc. Doesn’t mean
you’ll leave him for that, you’d always come back. You still call him Daddy
since he likes that name. You call him Daddy because he’s the closest thing
you’ve ever gotten to a parental figure. You call him Daddy because he’s the
greatest person for you. You’d never forget that.
End Notes
     Thanks for reading :) Any critique or comment to better my writing is
     encouraged.
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