オッパ先生はドSです! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
Title: ドS.
Group: "MBLAQ". Rain.
Pairing: Rain/Mir. Bimir? Bir?
Rating: R.
Warning: Bad English, bad fic, bad teaching ethics, even worse title, terrible cut text.
Summary: Part of the BL Manga AU, but not canon. Jung Jihoon, the math teacher, shall discipline Bang Cheolyong, the yankee.
N/A: I didn't even start the actual series of this AU and brandnewwind already convinced me to write this. B(
Jihoon has several levels of disapproval. The very first one is a glance, a discreet glance, that can eventually evolve into a piercing glare; then, he voices his dissatisfaction in a smooth, polite voice, picking his words carefully; it gets harsher and harsher if the mistakes pile up, but he never screams with any of his pupils. When furious, Jihoon fumes and growls at whoever he might be scolding, words short and blunt. Very few ever go past that one level, for no one would willingly provoke their tall, buff, serious and slightly menacing (even if heavenly handsome) teacher.
Some students, however, were simply deprived of common sense.
“You weren’t in my classes today,” smooth, polite voice; words carefully picked. “Again.”
Bang Cheolyong looks away, faking innocence. As if Jihoon would fall for that kind of act coming from a well-known rebellious, badly dressed yankee like that Cheolyong. “Sorry. The guys from Bakjoo cornered me to have a fight.”
“Then why you don’t have a single scratch on your body?” Jihoon was tired of Cheolyong’s lame lies.
“I’m just that good at fighting, you know,” Cheolyong grinned smugly, taking Jihoon’s disapproval to the next level. Jihoon breathed in deeply, then out, adjusting his glasses on his face so not to look disturbed.
“Then I can’t help but to reprehend you both for missing my class for the seventh time this month and fighting while wearing the school’s uniform,” he said calmly, pulling out Cheolyong’s record.
“Ah, wait! Wait, it was a lie!” Cheolyong blurted out and Jihoon halted his movements, records halfway out his bag. He raised his eyes to face Cheolyong, glaring at the student. “Okay, so I wasn’t in a fight. Um, I didn’t want to tell you this because you’re going to laugh but-I was coming back from lunch and I heard a meow. There was a cat-“
“Do not,” Jihoon interrupted him. “Dare to lie to me again. If you tell me you saved some cat from being stuck in a tree or whatever, I’ll demand to see the cat.”
“Wow, how did you know it was stuck in a tree?” Cheolyong laughed unnaturally. “Anyway, I can’t show my fluffy buddy to you. It ran away. Cats are really fickle animals.”
“Bang Cheolyong,” Jihoon’s voice was cold and strained. He could feel a vein threaten to pop right where the glasses’ frame touched his temple. “Unless you take over an hour to save a cat, this still isn’t a reasonable reason to miss my class. I’ll assume you’re really good at climbing trees as well, as you don’t have, as I said, any visible scratches,” Cheolyong looked down to his arms as if to check it. “Either you tell me a true, valid reason for you to have missed my class again or you do the one thing I’ve never seen you do: admit to be at fault.”
“Aw, but teacher!” instead of doing as Jihoon told him, Cheolyong objected. “Let’s be real now: if I were the teacher and you were the student, would you actually want to watch my classes? Be honest.”
“It wouldn’t matter. I don’t care if you want to watch my classes or not,” Cheolyong was pushing Jihoon way too far. “You have to watch them, regardless.”
“Tsk. When you came here I thought you’d be more fun than the bunch of old men we have here,” and Cheolyong got up, ready to leave. And Jihoon was not finished with him yet. And Jihoon hadn’t allowed that kind of conduct. Jihoon was livid. “Turns out you’re juuuuust like them. Meh. Bye bye.”
Jihoon himself didn’t see his own movements. He had been sitting at his desk, trying to calm himself down; next thing he knew, he was slamming his fist against the classroom’s door, missing Cheolyong’s head by no more than a centimeter. Comprehensibly, the student froze on his tracks. Jihoon wished he hadn’t done that, but he was too frustrated to think straight.
“Don’t you mess with me,” he whispered in a rough, low voice. “You’ve seen school as a joke so far, but don’t you try to treat my classes like nothing. I’ll teach you how to face school seriously, Bang Cheolyong, either you like it or not. Now sit back down.”
Jihoon could hear Cheolyong swallow. Good; finally that kid was starting to take him seriously. Clicking his tongue, Cheolyong turned around and went back to his chair, glaring defiantly at his teacher. Jihoon wanted to laugh. That Bang Cheolyong really thought he was all that, wasn’t that so?
“As a punishment for your shameful lack of discipline,” Jihoon also sat back at his desk, straightening his glasses once again. “You will write an essay on why you shouldn’t run away from classes. Pull out your notebook.”
“I don’t have it with me right now,” Cheolyong said insolently, a nonchalant expression on his face. Unfazed, Jihoon pulled out a brand-new notebook he had been carrying around on his bag - his class plans were taking over the older one with frightening speed - and a black pen, putting them in front of Cheolyong firmly, but not violently. Cheolyong clicked his tongue again, starting the task with slow, unwilling movements. Jihoon didn’t care.
“You better put effort on it, or I’ll make you write it again,” Jihoon used that rough voice again, for it seemed to intimidate the punk, even if just a little bit. “Do not slack off. I want this done in one hour. Are you listening to me, Bang Cheolyong?”
“Um-yes,” the student answered, straightening his posture and crossing his legs. “Now just let me think.”
“Sure,” Jihoon smirked, feeling absolutely victorious. So he had been able to bend that incorrigible Cheolyong! It was the very first detention he monitored at that school, and he was glad to see that even such an unruly kid like Cheolyong could be tamed that easily. As he watched Cheolyong, he noticed how uncomfortable the boy was; squirming on his seat, tapping the pen nervously on the notebook, and rubbing his forehead as if to wipe off sweat.
“Is it too hot for you to think?” Jihoon asked, good-willed.
“Oh,” Cheolyong lowered his pen, glancing at Jihoon questioningly. He raised an eyebrow. “Who knows.”
“What kind of answer is that?” Jihoon frowned. “Just go back to the essay then.”
Sighing, Cheolyong did as told. Wondering if his stare was making the boy nervous, Jihoon got up and started pacing around the room, walking all the way along the rows of desks, then going back, like he usually did during classes. It seemed that Cheolyong was finally getting something done. Jihoon grinned.
“Do write it seriously,” Jihoon said, again using The Voice. “If you come up with weird reasons, I’ll definitely reject it.”
“Teacher,” Cheolyong called, voice weird. Jihoon hummed, signalizing he was listening. “… nothing.”
“Seriously,” Jihoon clicking his tongue, approaching the desk where Cheolyong was sitting at in order to take a look at the boy’s essay. It had nothing but the title. “Haven’t I told you to put… effort…” something else caught Jihoon’s eyes. Below the notebook… now that Cheolyong had uncrossed his legs, Jihoon could, and very clearly, notice a far from insignificant bulge in the student’s pants. “…”
A moment of silence.
Cheolyong cleared his throat, crossing his legs again and bending over the notebook, as if wanting to stay as away from Jihoon as he could. Jihoon smirked and followed the movement, bending forward as well. Cheolyong cleared his throat again.
“I can’t concentrate,” he said, apparently in an ill mood. Jihoon backed away, chuckling silently. So Cheolyong hadn’t been intimidated; he had been turned on. Well, well. Who’d have guessed? That opened the door to a whole new world full of ways Jihoon could teach Cheolyong his lesson for being so irresponsible, even though most of them were definitely bad ideas, for they involved a lot of improper touching. As Jihoon valued professional ethics and morality, he chose to take it easy. Next time, though… Jihoon watched Cheolyong write dutifully with a pleased smirk on his lips. He sat on the edge of the nearest desk, taking off his glasses slowly, knowing well that Cheolyong was aware of every movement he made.
Things looked a bit blurrier without his glasses, but he didn’t mind; that was an important maneuver of his. He watched as Cheolyong filled the lines with his grotesquely big calligraphy, and decided that he wanted to see what the student was writing. Getting back on his feet, Jihoon slowly walked around Cheolyong’s desk and leaned over him again, his hands placed very close to Cheolyong’s. The boy paused his writing.
“Go on,” Jihoon whispered, and Cheolyong complied - or tried to. He seemed to have completely forgotten what he was about to write, and could only hold the pen against the paper in a lost way while Jihoon watched everything intently.
“Teacher,” Cheolyong breathed out, lustful.
“Finish your essay, Bang Cheolyong,” Jihoon commanded, whispering into the student’s ear, blowing hot air against his nape. Cheolyong shivered visibly, fumbling with the pen before going back to writing, clumsily drawing the words as if he weren’t sure of what he was doing anymore. Pleased with that reaction, Jihoon went back to his desk, where he leaned against the table and crossed his arms, eyes never leaving Cheolyong. The student was then writing furiously, as if anxious to finish it. Using sexual frustration to discipline students, it seemed, worked better than anything… despite being a slightly unethical method.
Jihoon was stricken by a brilliant, yet slightly sick idea. Briefly rummaging through his own bag, he was delighted to find his utensils used for the geometry class still stored between the books - the wooden, huge set-square and ruler. He heard the noise of pen scratching paper stop abruptly, followed by a quiet gasp, when he pulled out the ruler. He raised an eyebrow at Cheolyong, who was staring.
“What did I say about slacking off?” Jihoon hit the desk with the ruler, the sound of wood against wood echoing loudly. Cheolyong jumped, startled - or had he shivered? - fumbling with the pen once again, writing even faster than before. Jihoon was loving it. It was by far the most satisfactory detention he monitored in years.
A moment of silence went by, and Cheolyong didn’t dare to stop, even when Jihoon started playing with the ruler, rotating it between his fingers. His hand was moving so quick over the paper that Jihoon wondered if that didn’t hurt; it reminded of something else that Cheolyong would probably have to do with his hand later, and that would probably also hurt. Jihoon shook his head at that thought. Had he been his own boss, he’d have fired himself immediately.
“It’s done!” Cheolyong’s voice showed clear signs of despair as he slammed the pen down and got up, no longer caring if Jihoon could spot his erection or not. Jihoon didn’t move at all. “The essay.”
“Good,” Jihoon smiled, not taking the notebook back. “Now put the notebook right here,” Jihoon got up, signalizing Cheolyong’s desk. “and bend over.”
Cheolyong was hesitant to comply, but didn’t dare to defy Jihoon’s authoritarian stare. As he bent over the notebook, Jihoon walked closer to him and slowly pressed a hand against his lower back, making his butt stuck up in the air.
“Now,” Jihoon licked his lips as his hands traced the path till the zipper of Cheolyong’s pants, undoing it in a tortuous pace. “Read it aloud for me.”
“What,” Cheolyong whimpered as his pants slid down his legs, exposing his washed-out boxers to his teacher. A finger traced the waistband of the boxer, and Cheolyong’s arms, that were partially supporting the weight of his body, started to tremble.
“You heard me. Read your essay aloud,” with nothing but one finger, Jihoon started to pull the boy boxers down, revealing his round, muscular buttocks. Probably from all that fighting… Cheolyong was most probably too unruly to actually exercise. “Be careful of your diction. I might be a math teacher, but I esteem the importance of proper speech.”
Cheolyong took a deep breath, and Jihoon put his glasses back on. He didn’t want to miss that.
“The importance of watching classes,” the student started, voice thin. “by B-Bang Cheolyong.”
Jihoon was poking one of the buttocks with the corner of the ruler, just lightly enough to make Cheolyong feel. The flesh was firm, and tempting, tempting enough for Jihoon to feel his sadistic side almost take over his body.
“Many teenagers think classes are bor-ing!” Cheolyong gasped as Jihoon first smacked his butt with the wooden ruler, balling his fists as he tried to breathe again. It hurt, yes, it surely hurt - and yet, the whimper Cheolyong let out was not one of pain. “Teacher…”
“Carry on, Cheolyong,” Jihoon commanded, caressing the spot he had hit with the ruler. The skin was turning bright red already… Jihoon smiled at the mark, giving Cheolyong’s buttock a final poke. “I told you to carry on.”
Cheolyong nodded. “But… um, but, watching boring classes and-” the ruler hit the other buttock. “And doing homework is part of-part of-” there was no mistake to the moan Cheolyong let out when a particularly hard smack made him fall on his elbows on the desk. “Of being a grown-up! Ah…” he tried to recompose himself, breathing deeply. Jihoon admired the red marks that tainted the boy’s skin, chuckling in a low, pleased voice. “In adult life we… are often forced to-nghn,” Jihoon bit his lip as he smacked Cheolyong twice, watching the flesh bounce under the flat ruler. The sounds Cheolyong was making… that kid sure had a fetish. “To take part in… in mentally straining… tasks-and running away from responsibility is un-nghn-unprofessional. In society-ugh,” Cheolyong’s breath hitched as Jihoon hit him again, and again, then again. “Fuck.”
“Hey,” Jihoon reached forward for Cheolyong’s hair, pulling them just enough to raise Cheolyong’s head a bit. “Watch your mouth, punk. You might bite your tongue,” he let go of Cheolyong’s hair, intentionally bumping his clothed crotch on Cheolyong’s butt, and hard, before going back to his original position, ruler in hands. “Carry on.”
“Teacher, please-”
“I told you,” Jihoon hit him much harder than before, making Cheolyong yelp in pain. For a moment, Jihoon even though he had broken the ruler. Ouch. That was going to burn. “Carry. On.”
Trying to catch his breath, Cheolyong panted and swallowed before complying. “For that reason,” his voice was shaky, filled with arousal. “Skipping classes is a c-childish thing to do and-and should be avoided,” his voice cracked when the ruler slapped the meaty lower part of his bottom. The front of his boxers had become wet already, but Jihoon had no intentions of touching him there. “For those who want to become working-w-working adults. It’s a good-for-nothing behavior,” Jihoon was, by then, hitting him mercilessly, not even giving him a chance to breathe. “That should… should be…” upon seeing Cheolyong could no longer talk, Jihoon stopped the beating, caressing the abused flesh with the wooden ruler instead. “Corrected as soon as possible… by honorable… honorable educators,” he swallowed. “The end.”
Jihoon laughed, throaty and mocking. “So I’m one of the ‘honorable educators’ you speak of, Bang Cheolyong?”
“Yes,” Cheolyong answered immediately.
“And you want me to,” a sudden smack. Cheolyong arched his back, gasping. “Correct your conduct?”
“Yes,” Cheolyong sounded naughty and needy, a combination that suited him very well.
“I see,” Jihoon leaned over Cheolyong’s bent body, pressing, once again, his crotch against the student’s bare bottom. He felt a shiver go down the boy’s spine as he let his lips brush against his ear. “I really liked your essay, Cheolyong. It’s very coherent. It seems you’re sorry for skipping my classes, are you not?”
“Yes,” Cheolyong nodded, grinding against Jihoon, who backed away the slightest bit - if Cheolyong kept squirming like that, the situation could run out of Jihoon’s control.
“Since you were such a good boy to me today,” Jihoon let the ruler run up one of Cheolyong’s legs. “I think I should give you a reward,” just when the ruler was about to reach all the way up, he stopped, pressing the wooden object against Cheolyong’s thigh. “What do you think?”
Cheolyong gasped. “Please,” he whimpered. Jihoon smirked.
“Okay then,” Jihoon backed away completely, his chest feeling a little cold from the temperature difference between having nothing and the burning Cheolyong next to his body. He then proceeded to pul Cheolyong’s boxers up again, back to their rightful place, and re-dress him with his fallen, long forgotten pants. Zipping them over the erection Cheolyong sported had been a hard task, and there had been some accidental brushes here and there that made the student hiss, but Jihoon eventually managed to finish it.
“What are you doing,” Cheolyong’s voice was, then, desperate. Smirking, Jihoon went back to his own desk, putting the ruler in his bag again. Cheolyong ran toward him. “Teacher!”
“What?” Jihoon feigned innocence. Cheolyong was frozen in shock, which made Jihoon have to fight against the resurging of his smirk. “Ah, yes. Your reward. Make this essay a little longer, hand it to me tomorrow, then do not miss any of my classes for a month,” Jihoon smiled. “And I’ll give your grades a nice boost. How’s that?”
Cheolyong just gaped for a moment. In the next moment, he was charging for Jihoon, and would have kissed the teacher rather passionately had the latter not been quick enough. He held Cheolyong’s face away from his, extremely pleased.
“Follow my orders, Cheolyong,” and he went back to the low voice Cheolyong enjoyed so much. “We can talk about your reward later. After you show me how sorry you are for being a bad kid all this time.”
He let go of Cheolyong’s face, tracing a teasing thumb over the student’s lips before leaving him to deal with his own problems. Walking down the hallway and toward the teacher’s office, Jihoon straightened his glasses with a grin on his lips. Maybe he should use that method in all his detentions from then on. It seemed to work. And it was horribly entertaining as well.
Group: "MBLAQ". Rain.
Pairing: Rain/Mir. Bimir? Bir?
Rating: R.
Warning: Bad English, bad fic, bad teaching ethics, even worse title, terrible cut text.
Summary: Part of the BL Manga AU, but not canon. Jung Jihoon, the math teacher, shall discipline Bang Cheolyong, the yankee.
N/A: I didn't even start the actual series of this AU and brandnewwind already convinced me to write this. B(
Jihoon has several levels of disapproval. The very first one is a glance, a discreet glance, that can eventually evolve into a piercing glare; then, he voices his dissatisfaction in a smooth, polite voice, picking his words carefully; it gets harsher and harsher if the mistakes pile up, but he never screams with any of his pupils. When furious, Jihoon fumes and growls at whoever he might be scolding, words short and blunt. Very few ever go past that one level, for no one would willingly provoke their tall, buff, serious and slightly menacing (even if heavenly handsome) teacher.
Some students, however, were simply deprived of common sense.
“You weren’t in my classes today,” smooth, polite voice; words carefully picked. “Again.”
Bang Cheolyong looks away, faking innocence. As if Jihoon would fall for that kind of act coming from a well-known rebellious, badly dressed yankee like that Cheolyong. “Sorry. The guys from Bakjoo cornered me to have a fight.”
“Then why you don’t have a single scratch on your body?” Jihoon was tired of Cheolyong’s lame lies.
“I’m just that good at fighting, you know,” Cheolyong grinned smugly, taking Jihoon’s disapproval to the next level. Jihoon breathed in deeply, then out, adjusting his glasses on his face so not to look disturbed.
“Then I can’t help but to reprehend you both for missing my class for the seventh time this month and fighting while wearing the school’s uniform,” he said calmly, pulling out Cheolyong’s record.
“Ah, wait! Wait, it was a lie!” Cheolyong blurted out and Jihoon halted his movements, records halfway out his bag. He raised his eyes to face Cheolyong, glaring at the student. “Okay, so I wasn’t in a fight. Um, I didn’t want to tell you this because you’re going to laugh but-I was coming back from lunch and I heard a meow. There was a cat-“
“Do not,” Jihoon interrupted him. “Dare to lie to me again. If you tell me you saved some cat from being stuck in a tree or whatever, I’ll demand to see the cat.”
“Wow, how did you know it was stuck in a tree?” Cheolyong laughed unnaturally. “Anyway, I can’t show my fluffy buddy to you. It ran away. Cats are really fickle animals.”
“Bang Cheolyong,” Jihoon’s voice was cold and strained. He could feel a vein threaten to pop right where the glasses’ frame touched his temple. “Unless you take over an hour to save a cat, this still isn’t a reasonable reason to miss my class. I’ll assume you’re really good at climbing trees as well, as you don’t have, as I said, any visible scratches,” Cheolyong looked down to his arms as if to check it. “Either you tell me a true, valid reason for you to have missed my class again or you do the one thing I’ve never seen you do: admit to be at fault.”
“Aw, but teacher!” instead of doing as Jihoon told him, Cheolyong objected. “Let’s be real now: if I were the teacher and you were the student, would you actually want to watch my classes? Be honest.”
“It wouldn’t matter. I don’t care if you want to watch my classes or not,” Cheolyong was pushing Jihoon way too far. “You have to watch them, regardless.”
“Tsk. When you came here I thought you’d be more fun than the bunch of old men we have here,” and Cheolyong got up, ready to leave. And Jihoon was not finished with him yet. And Jihoon hadn’t allowed that kind of conduct. Jihoon was livid. “Turns out you’re juuuuust like them. Meh. Bye bye.”
Jihoon himself didn’t see his own movements. He had been sitting at his desk, trying to calm himself down; next thing he knew, he was slamming his fist against the classroom’s door, missing Cheolyong’s head by no more than a centimeter. Comprehensibly, the student froze on his tracks. Jihoon wished he hadn’t done that, but he was too frustrated to think straight.
“Don’t you mess with me,” he whispered in a rough, low voice. “You’ve seen school as a joke so far, but don’t you try to treat my classes like nothing. I’ll teach you how to face school seriously, Bang Cheolyong, either you like it or not. Now sit back down.”
Jihoon could hear Cheolyong swallow. Good; finally that kid was starting to take him seriously. Clicking his tongue, Cheolyong turned around and went back to his chair, glaring defiantly at his teacher. Jihoon wanted to laugh. That Bang Cheolyong really thought he was all that, wasn’t that so?
“As a punishment for your shameful lack of discipline,” Jihoon also sat back at his desk, straightening his glasses once again. “You will write an essay on why you shouldn’t run away from classes. Pull out your notebook.”
“I don’t have it with me right now,” Cheolyong said insolently, a nonchalant expression on his face. Unfazed, Jihoon pulled out a brand-new notebook he had been carrying around on his bag - his class plans were taking over the older one with frightening speed - and a black pen, putting them in front of Cheolyong firmly, but not violently. Cheolyong clicked his tongue again, starting the task with slow, unwilling movements. Jihoon didn’t care.
“You better put effort on it, or I’ll make you write it again,” Jihoon used that rough voice again, for it seemed to intimidate the punk, even if just a little bit. “Do not slack off. I want this done in one hour. Are you listening to me, Bang Cheolyong?”
“Um-yes,” the student answered, straightening his posture and crossing his legs. “Now just let me think.”
“Sure,” Jihoon smirked, feeling absolutely victorious. So he had been able to bend that incorrigible Cheolyong! It was the very first detention he monitored at that school, and he was glad to see that even such an unruly kid like Cheolyong could be tamed that easily. As he watched Cheolyong, he noticed how uncomfortable the boy was; squirming on his seat, tapping the pen nervously on the notebook, and rubbing his forehead as if to wipe off sweat.
“Is it too hot for you to think?” Jihoon asked, good-willed.
“Oh,” Cheolyong lowered his pen, glancing at Jihoon questioningly. He raised an eyebrow. “Who knows.”
“What kind of answer is that?” Jihoon frowned. “Just go back to the essay then.”
Sighing, Cheolyong did as told. Wondering if his stare was making the boy nervous, Jihoon got up and started pacing around the room, walking all the way along the rows of desks, then going back, like he usually did during classes. It seemed that Cheolyong was finally getting something done. Jihoon grinned.
“Do write it seriously,” Jihoon said, again using The Voice. “If you come up with weird reasons, I’ll definitely reject it.”
“Teacher,” Cheolyong called, voice weird. Jihoon hummed, signalizing he was listening. “… nothing.”
“Seriously,” Jihoon clicking his tongue, approaching the desk where Cheolyong was sitting at in order to take a look at the boy’s essay. It had nothing but the title. “Haven’t I told you to put… effort…” something else caught Jihoon’s eyes. Below the notebook… now that Cheolyong had uncrossed his legs, Jihoon could, and very clearly, notice a far from insignificant bulge in the student’s pants. “…”
A moment of silence.
Cheolyong cleared his throat, crossing his legs again and bending over the notebook, as if wanting to stay as away from Jihoon as he could. Jihoon smirked and followed the movement, bending forward as well. Cheolyong cleared his throat again.
“I can’t concentrate,” he said, apparently in an ill mood. Jihoon backed away, chuckling silently. So Cheolyong hadn’t been intimidated; he had been turned on. Well, well. Who’d have guessed? That opened the door to a whole new world full of ways Jihoon could teach Cheolyong his lesson for being so irresponsible, even though most of them were definitely bad ideas, for they involved a lot of improper touching. As Jihoon valued professional ethics and morality, he chose to take it easy. Next time, though… Jihoon watched Cheolyong write dutifully with a pleased smirk on his lips. He sat on the edge of the nearest desk, taking off his glasses slowly, knowing well that Cheolyong was aware of every movement he made.
Things looked a bit blurrier without his glasses, but he didn’t mind; that was an important maneuver of his. He watched as Cheolyong filled the lines with his grotesquely big calligraphy, and decided that he wanted to see what the student was writing. Getting back on his feet, Jihoon slowly walked around Cheolyong’s desk and leaned over him again, his hands placed very close to Cheolyong’s. The boy paused his writing.
“Go on,” Jihoon whispered, and Cheolyong complied - or tried to. He seemed to have completely forgotten what he was about to write, and could only hold the pen against the paper in a lost way while Jihoon watched everything intently.
“Teacher,” Cheolyong breathed out, lustful.
“Finish your essay, Bang Cheolyong,” Jihoon commanded, whispering into the student’s ear, blowing hot air against his nape. Cheolyong shivered visibly, fumbling with the pen before going back to writing, clumsily drawing the words as if he weren’t sure of what he was doing anymore. Pleased with that reaction, Jihoon went back to his desk, where he leaned against the table and crossed his arms, eyes never leaving Cheolyong. The student was then writing furiously, as if anxious to finish it. Using sexual frustration to discipline students, it seemed, worked better than anything… despite being a slightly unethical method.
Jihoon was stricken by a brilliant, yet slightly sick idea. Briefly rummaging through his own bag, he was delighted to find his utensils used for the geometry class still stored between the books - the wooden, huge set-square and ruler. He heard the noise of pen scratching paper stop abruptly, followed by a quiet gasp, when he pulled out the ruler. He raised an eyebrow at Cheolyong, who was staring.
“What did I say about slacking off?” Jihoon hit the desk with the ruler, the sound of wood against wood echoing loudly. Cheolyong jumped, startled - or had he shivered? - fumbling with the pen once again, writing even faster than before. Jihoon was loving it. It was by far the most satisfactory detention he monitored in years.
A moment of silence went by, and Cheolyong didn’t dare to stop, even when Jihoon started playing with the ruler, rotating it between his fingers. His hand was moving so quick over the paper that Jihoon wondered if that didn’t hurt; it reminded of something else that Cheolyong would probably have to do with his hand later, and that would probably also hurt. Jihoon shook his head at that thought. Had he been his own boss, he’d have fired himself immediately.
“It’s done!” Cheolyong’s voice showed clear signs of despair as he slammed the pen down and got up, no longer caring if Jihoon could spot his erection or not. Jihoon didn’t move at all. “The essay.”
“Good,” Jihoon smiled, not taking the notebook back. “Now put the notebook right here,” Jihoon got up, signalizing Cheolyong’s desk. “and bend over.”
Cheolyong was hesitant to comply, but didn’t dare to defy Jihoon’s authoritarian stare. As he bent over the notebook, Jihoon walked closer to him and slowly pressed a hand against his lower back, making his butt stuck up in the air.
“Now,” Jihoon licked his lips as his hands traced the path till the zipper of Cheolyong’s pants, undoing it in a tortuous pace. “Read it aloud for me.”
“What,” Cheolyong whimpered as his pants slid down his legs, exposing his washed-out boxers to his teacher. A finger traced the waistband of the boxer, and Cheolyong’s arms, that were partially supporting the weight of his body, started to tremble.
“You heard me. Read your essay aloud,” with nothing but one finger, Jihoon started to pull the boy boxers down, revealing his round, muscular buttocks. Probably from all that fighting… Cheolyong was most probably too unruly to actually exercise. “Be careful of your diction. I might be a math teacher, but I esteem the importance of proper speech.”
Cheolyong took a deep breath, and Jihoon put his glasses back on. He didn’t want to miss that.
“The importance of watching classes,” the student started, voice thin. “by B-Bang Cheolyong.”
Jihoon was poking one of the buttocks with the corner of the ruler, just lightly enough to make Cheolyong feel. The flesh was firm, and tempting, tempting enough for Jihoon to feel his sadistic side almost take over his body.
“Many teenagers think classes are bor-ing!” Cheolyong gasped as Jihoon first smacked his butt with the wooden ruler, balling his fists as he tried to breathe again. It hurt, yes, it surely hurt - and yet, the whimper Cheolyong let out was not one of pain. “Teacher…”
“Carry on, Cheolyong,” Jihoon commanded, caressing the spot he had hit with the ruler. The skin was turning bright red already… Jihoon smiled at the mark, giving Cheolyong’s buttock a final poke. “I told you to carry on.”
Cheolyong nodded. “But… um, but, watching boring classes and-” the ruler hit the other buttock. “And doing homework is part of-part of-” there was no mistake to the moan Cheolyong let out when a particularly hard smack made him fall on his elbows on the desk. “Of being a grown-up! Ah…” he tried to recompose himself, breathing deeply. Jihoon admired the red marks that tainted the boy’s skin, chuckling in a low, pleased voice. “In adult life we… are often forced to-nghn,” Jihoon bit his lip as he smacked Cheolyong twice, watching the flesh bounce under the flat ruler. The sounds Cheolyong was making… that kid sure had a fetish. “To take part in… in mentally straining… tasks-and running away from responsibility is un-nghn-unprofessional. In society-ugh,” Cheolyong’s breath hitched as Jihoon hit him again, and again, then again. “Fuck.”
“Hey,” Jihoon reached forward for Cheolyong’s hair, pulling them just enough to raise Cheolyong’s head a bit. “Watch your mouth, punk. You might bite your tongue,” he let go of Cheolyong’s hair, intentionally bumping his clothed crotch on Cheolyong’s butt, and hard, before going back to his original position, ruler in hands. “Carry on.”
“Teacher, please-”
“I told you,” Jihoon hit him much harder than before, making Cheolyong yelp in pain. For a moment, Jihoon even though he had broken the ruler. Ouch. That was going to burn. “Carry. On.”
Trying to catch his breath, Cheolyong panted and swallowed before complying. “For that reason,” his voice was shaky, filled with arousal. “Skipping classes is a c-childish thing to do and-and should be avoided,” his voice cracked when the ruler slapped the meaty lower part of his bottom. The front of his boxers had become wet already, but Jihoon had no intentions of touching him there. “For those who want to become working-w-working adults. It’s a good-for-nothing behavior,” Jihoon was, by then, hitting him mercilessly, not even giving him a chance to breathe. “That should… should be…” upon seeing Cheolyong could no longer talk, Jihoon stopped the beating, caressing the abused flesh with the wooden ruler instead. “Corrected as soon as possible… by honorable… honorable educators,” he swallowed. “The end.”
Jihoon laughed, throaty and mocking. “So I’m one of the ‘honorable educators’ you speak of, Bang Cheolyong?”
“Yes,” Cheolyong answered immediately.
“And you want me to,” a sudden smack. Cheolyong arched his back, gasping. “Correct your conduct?”
“Yes,” Cheolyong sounded naughty and needy, a combination that suited him very well.
“I see,” Jihoon leaned over Cheolyong’s bent body, pressing, once again, his crotch against the student’s bare bottom. He felt a shiver go down the boy’s spine as he let his lips brush against his ear. “I really liked your essay, Cheolyong. It’s very coherent. It seems you’re sorry for skipping my classes, are you not?”
“Yes,” Cheolyong nodded, grinding against Jihoon, who backed away the slightest bit - if Cheolyong kept squirming like that, the situation could run out of Jihoon’s control.
“Since you were such a good boy to me today,” Jihoon let the ruler run up one of Cheolyong’s legs. “I think I should give you a reward,” just when the ruler was about to reach all the way up, he stopped, pressing the wooden object against Cheolyong’s thigh. “What do you think?”
Cheolyong gasped. “Please,” he whimpered. Jihoon smirked.
“Okay then,” Jihoon backed away completely, his chest feeling a little cold from the temperature difference between having nothing and the burning Cheolyong next to his body. He then proceeded to pul Cheolyong’s boxers up again, back to their rightful place, and re-dress him with his fallen, long forgotten pants. Zipping them over the erection Cheolyong sported had been a hard task, and there had been some accidental brushes here and there that made the student hiss, but Jihoon eventually managed to finish it.
“What are you doing,” Cheolyong’s voice was, then, desperate. Smirking, Jihoon went back to his own desk, putting the ruler in his bag again. Cheolyong ran toward him. “Teacher!”
“What?” Jihoon feigned innocence. Cheolyong was frozen in shock, which made Jihoon have to fight against the resurging of his smirk. “Ah, yes. Your reward. Make this essay a little longer, hand it to me tomorrow, then do not miss any of my classes for a month,” Jihoon smiled. “And I’ll give your grades a nice boost. How’s that?”
Cheolyong just gaped for a moment. In the next moment, he was charging for Jihoon, and would have kissed the teacher rather passionately had the latter not been quick enough. He held Cheolyong’s face away from his, extremely pleased.
“Follow my orders, Cheolyong,” and he went back to the low voice Cheolyong enjoyed so much. “We can talk about your reward later. After you show me how sorry you are for being a bad kid all this time.”
He let go of Cheolyong’s face, tracing a teasing thumb over the student’s lips before leaving him to deal with his own problems. Walking down the hallway and toward the teacher’s office, Jihoon straightened his glasses with a grin on his lips. Maybe he should use that method in all his detentions from then on. It seemed to work. And it was horribly entertaining as well.