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Candy is a Treat

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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.

Chapter Text

 

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 finally convincing 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 real Daddy 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 smidge of 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 Text

            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 way too 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 one time 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.

Chapter Text

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.

Chapter Text

            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 his books 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 little bit too tight or just a little bit 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.

Chapter Text

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 prettier than 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 mine and 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.

Chapter Text

           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’s house 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.