"The less I know the better. Oh, my love. Can't you see yourself by my side?"

~T.I.

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The things I do for you, Naomi.

I currently stand outside of your dorm house in the cold, (sometimes it gets cold at night in Texas. Big shocker, right?) peering inside to see any glimpse of you, and risking looking like a creep. Luckily, I stand behind a big oak tree that hides my body well enough.

I like to think of this as a milestone in our budding relationship, in which the woman invites the man into her home for the first time. It was like following bread crumbs, Naomi. You live on the first floor, and you're trusting enough to have the blinds pulled back and the window ajar. Like you want me to see inside your life.

I'm here to oblige, of course.

You seem to have somehow scored the whole room to yourself. I didn't even know that was possible when it came to a college like the University of Texas, but there is no sign of a roommate in your entire dorm. I wonder how you pulled off such a feat when everyone scrambles to find somewhere to live in the city: are you secretly rich, trying to pass yourself off as just another normal gal, or are you a resident assistant?

Even with all of our time spent together, there is so much I don't know about you. But these things take time, and like I said before, I can wait when it comes to you.

I've gotten good at being invisible around you, Naomi. With a few wardrobe changes per day, I can become a whole new person to avoid being spotted by a watchful eye. Although, it's not too hard to track you through the city. You walk around as if you have no care in the world, as if predators who live for this shit don't exist, flaunting your body at anyone who'll look. And Naomi, they do look.

I'll warn you to be more vigilant once we're together.

After all, who knows what kind of sicko could follow you home?

You wear a short, black dress with no bra, and I see your nipples poking out of the sheer material. As you move around the room with more grace than even the most trained ballerina, you suddenly stop at your desk, lip trembling.

Why are you crying? You're trying not to let your mascara run, but holding it in is making it worse. You take a deep breath in, look in the mirror, and stare yourself down until the tears dry up.

I can't help but imagine what I would do if I were there with you, able to hold you in my embrace until you're done spilling all of your secrets, even if that means getting makeup all over my clothes. You wouldn't have to hide who you are around me, Naomi. You wouldn't have to put on a brave face or pretend like everything is fine. You'd be mine, and I'd be yours-

And who the fuck is going to your door right now? He's holding flowers and checking his watch, as if he can't be bothered to wait another second before you let him in. Blazing-hot jealousy courses through my veins.

Is he your type? Tall, silver foxes in expensive cologne, Gucci suits and always somewhere to be? He reeks of privilege and desperation, Naomi. I thought you had better taste in men.

You open the door with a feigned smile, telling him to come in. He doesn't notice the dried streaks of tears on your cheeks and steps inside. There is no mistake: he's been here before.

He wastes no time on small talk. As soon as he sets the flowers down on the table, he pulls you into a deep kiss, full of raw passion that is frankly hard to watch. You let him hold you like you're in the grip of a predator.

Do you like feeling small? Do you like being forced into submission?

He makes quick work of your dress, as he rips it off and lets me see every inch of your sublime skin.

You are pale and smooth like a harvest moon, the dips and curves of your body accentuating its glow. Your nipples are pink and perky, and as they press up against this stranger's chest, I know I would give anything to be in his place.

Anything.

He puts you on your knees and lets you undress him slowly, as if he is the one to behold. Unbuckling his belt, you eye him up and down before letting his cock spring out of his pants.

There is no patience in his eyes, and soon enough, you squeal as he throws you onto the bed. And, after situating himself on top of your body, thrusts himself inside of you.

He picks up the rhythm after you two are both comfortable, and the dorm is filled with moans and the sound of skin on skin.

Your neighboring dormies can surely hear the commotion through the walls, but that doesn't stop you. You're determined to put on a good show.

"Oh, yes! Right there!" you scream as he slams into you, over and over again.

"You like that? Call me daddy, you little slut!"

"Harder, daddy!"

"Yeah? You want it, don't you?"

"I want it so bad! Give it to me!"

"Oh, fuck! Naomi, I'm gonna cum!"

"W-wait! Not inside—Ah!"

With a loud groan, his pumps slow down, coming to a full stop after a few seconds. Of course, he had no intention of pulling out, (because why be a decent guy when you can be an asshat instead?) and is still balls deep in you when he begins to leave kisses on your jawline and neck. You entertain his gestures of romance, craning your neck to let him have more access as you awkwardly rub circles on his back. From the expression on your face, it's obvious you can't wait for him to fuck off.

Finally, he eases himself onto his back on the space next to you and sits up after getting his bearings.

Is that what you wanted? A grown man squirting two, measly spoonfuls of jizz into you and calling it a night? Evidently not, because you look away from him as he dresses, your hands wandering to your glistening pussy.

What I would do to you if I were there with you right now. You wouldn't have to use your hands to pleasure yourself ever again.

"So, do I get my clients?" you ask when he's decent. The man smiles.

"After tonight? You can have anything you want, babygirl."

Babygirl? God. Kill me now.

I swear to you I'm not a dramatic guy, Naomi, but when I say that this man is a waste of oxygen, I really mean it.

"This is it, right? I don't want to do... Favors for you."

"This is the last time. I promise."

You grimace. You've heard that line before.

He leans down, and with a kiss on your swollen lips, he says, "You know I love you, right?" You look up at him, jarred by the tenderness in which he regards you.

Don't fall for it. You know he won't change. Not for anyone, and certainly not for you.

"Y-yeah. Of course."

Without another word, the man throws on his coat and heads out the door, leaving you completely alone.

I throw up my hood, put some earbuds in, and begin jogging in the opposite direction just as he steps out of the building.

A quid pro quo. That's what this is. He's undoubtedly one of your professors, using you as his personal sex toy in return for good grades or, like you said, a list of clients, whatever that means.

Do men like that deserve to be in positions of power, where they can play with girls that are barely legal compared to them? Do men like that deserve to see the light of day? I saw the wedding band on his finger. Would he be missed by his wife back home, where he won't hesitate to fuck her, too?

I ball my fists.

The things I do for you.

༺═──────────────═༻

안녕 여러분! I hope everyone
enjoyed this chapter. What do you
think Taehyung will do next? What do
we think about Namjoon and Naomi's
relationship? Let me know in the
comments!

I just wanted to say thank you
so much for 1K on this book already..
I'm so shocked at all of the
love! Like seriously. I'm still
in disbelief. Wow.

By popular vote, people wanted
the question of the day,
so here we go!

QOTD: I asked this question before,
but what is something unique about you?
Physical appearance, skill, etc.

I think my gap teeth are
pretty unique. I can shoot milk
out of them. I also have a pixie cut
with turquoise hair so there's that.

until next time, happy reading!

Love
Haneul