Ave

Your back bows against his chest, feet dangling uselessly above the floor as he bounces you on his length like you weigh nothing. The cameras are rolling—two DSLRs and a mounted iPhone catching the side angle—but you can’t even remember your name right now, let alone what the cameras are capturing.

“Fuck,” Joon grunts against your ear, his breath hot and uneven. “You feel so fucking good.”

His hands grip the undersides of your thighs, spreading you open so wide your hips ache, and he drives up into you from below. Standing up, like it’s nothing. Like your whole trembling body is just a toy for him to maneuver.

Your head lolls back against his shoulder. A moan tears out of your throat—guttural, embarrassing. But you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when Kim Namjoon is filling you over and over again.

Two weeks earlier, you’d been editing the newest solo video in your apartment when his dm landed.

n.joon: hey :) i know this is out of the blue, but i’ve seen your content and i think we’d make something incredible together. no pressure at all. just wanted to put it out there.

You’d stared at the screen long enough for it to go dark. Joon. The Joon. The one whose videos with other creators had comment sections full of women typing in all caps about how he’d ruined them for other men. The one your mutuals described as disgustingly sweet off-camera and a menace between the sheets.

Your thumbs had hovered over the keyboard for a full minute before you typed back.

pinkvelvet: i haven’t worked with men. only solo and girl-on-girl. why me?

His reply came within seconds.

n.joon: because i have a feeling about you. your energy on camera. the way you move. i think we’d click.

You’d said yes within the hour.

Now you’re here, in his studio—a converted loft space with exposed brick, warm lighting, a massive bed dressed in slate-gray sheets, and three cameras capturing every angle. You’d arrived two hours ago and spent the first hour talking over coffee while he explained how he runs his sets: safewords, check-ins, boundaries clearly mapped before a single button gets pressed.

The second hour involved making out on his couch until your lip gloss was gone and his shirt was bunched in your fists. His mouth moved on to your tits, sucking slow and deliberate with this unhurried, devastating focus until your nipples were swollen and spit-slicked and so sensitive that even the air made you whimper.

And then his head was between your thighs, tongue working your clit in lazy figure-eights while two thick fingers curled inside you, finding that spot that made you gasp and rock into his palm. He’d eaten your pussy like he had planned to be there all day, like your orgasm was a puzzle he was determined to solve, and when you came on his face, he moaned into your cunt like he was the one getting off.

Now you’re here. Impaled and shaking.

“Joon—fuck—the cameras,” you manage, because some professional part of your brain is still flickering, wondering if the cameras are capturing your cathartic experience.

His hips don’t slow. “Got the angles covered. Don’t worry about anything, baby. Just feel me. Feel my cock splitting you open.”

A sob catches in your throat. He’s so deep. You can feel him in your stomach—no, you can see him, a subtle bulge below your navel every time he bottoms out. Your eyes snag on it and your cunt clenches involuntarily.

“There it is,” he breathes, following your gaze. “You see that? See my cock through your little tummy?”

His hand slides from your thigh to your lower belly, palm pressing flat, and the added pressure makes you keen. He’s touching himself through your skin. Through your fucking body. Your walls flutter around him—shameless, desperate.

“Oh my god,” you gasp.

His dimple flashes in your peripheral vision—those stupid, charming, devastating dimples—and then he’s kissing the side of your neck, open-mouthed and messy, tongue dragging over your pulse point. “You’re squeezing me so tight. You like that? Like seeing how big and deep I am inside of you?”

“Yes—yes—fuck, Joonie—”

He shifts his stance, feet planting wider, and the angle changes. You’re not just full now; you’re obliterated. Every thrust nudges against your cervix with this blunt, aching pressure that’s somehow too much and not enough at the same time. Your nails dig into his forearms. You can feel the muscle there, corded and solid, and it makes your head spin—how easily he’s holding you up, how effortless he makes this look while you’re coming apart.

“Bet you’re gonna squirt all over my cock,” he murmurs. “Bet you’re gonna make a fucking mess”

A fresh wave of heat crashes through you. You want to deny it, want to tell him you don’t always, it’s not guaranteed, but your body is already betraying you, that telltale pressure building behind your pubic bone, insistent and liquid.

“I can feel it,” he says. “You’re right there. Give it to me. Soak my fucking cock.”

His hand snakes around to rub tight, fast circles over your clit, and that’s it, that’s the end of you. Your orgasm comes in a single, catastrophic burst, and liquid gushes out of you, splashing down his shaft, dripping onto the floor. You hear it hit the hardwood—wet, filthy—and you can’t stop the sounds pouring out of your mouth, these high, broken cries that don’t sound like you at all.

“That’s it. Fuck, that’s so hot. Soaking me. Fucking drenching me.” His voice is strained now, composure finally cracking. “Gonna put you back on the bed. Wanna see your face when I fill you up.”

He pulls out—you whimper at the sudden emptiness—and carries you the three steps to the bed. Your back hits the sheets and he’s over you immediately, mouth covering yours, tongue sliding against your tongue, and you taste yourself on him from earlier, tangy and intimate. His cock nudges at your entrance and then he’s pushing back in, one long, relentless stroke that makes you both groan into each other’s mouths.

“Legs up,” he says, breaking the kiss. “Higher. Put your legs on my shoulders, honey.”

He folds you in a mating press, and when he sinks back in, the depth is obscene. Your eyes roll back. Your hands scramble for purchase on his back, feeling the muscles shift and bunch as he starts to fuck you in earnest. The bed frame creaks in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants. “I’m gonna fucking come in this perfect pussy. You want it? Tell me you want it.”

“I want it—please, Joon—“

“Yeah? Fuck. Want that cum inside you?”

“Yes, fuck, please—”

His hips stutter. His forehead drops to yours. A guttural groan rips from his chest and then he’s pulsing inside you, thick and hot, flooding your insides. You can feel it—feel him—coating your walls, so much of it that it seeps out around his cock while he’s still buried inside. He keeps thrusting through it, working his cum deeper, grunting with each aftershock, and when he finally stills, you’re both gasping, sweat-slicked, and tangled.

Namjoon lifts his head, dark eyes finding yours, and leans in to kiss you slowly. Your hands come up to frame his face before wrapping them around his shoulders. You make out for a few moments, both of you coming down from your highs. The cameras are still rolling, capturing the intimate moment.

He pulls away far enough to see your face. “You okay?”

He really is sweet and thoughtful.

You smile at him and lean in for another kiss. “More than okay. In fact, I’m already thinking about part two.”

Joon laughs and kisses you again before pulling out and standing up. He walks towards the main camera, dick swinging even in a flaccid state. “I’m game, honey."

The red recording button turns off for now.

TAGLIST—

“Hey, Noona,” Taehyung calls from the living room, where he lies on the couch with his phone held up above his face.

“Hi, nice to meet you finally!” you call back before turning your attention back to Jimin. “You too, of course. Thanks for inviting me.”

Jimin hasn’t stopped smiling since you came in a few minutes ago, and you aren’t sure why. But you can’t deny that you love his smile. And after your last two meetings with Yoongi and Seokjin, this level of friendliness from both Jimin and Taehyung is definitely welcomed.

The two of you walk into the living room where Taehyung is, and he immediately sits up.

“Oh- you don’t need to do that,” you say, waving off Taehyung, “stay comfortable, really.”

“No, it’s okay,” he chuckles.

“Do you want a drink, Noona?” Jimin asks as you sit on the other end of the couch from Taehyung.

That makes you pause. Not him asking if you want a drink, but the honorific. They’ve both used it now in the span of barely five minutes, and it’s kind of.. jarring?

“Sure,” you say with a smile, “but really.. neither of you have to call me ‘Noona.’ Don’t worry about being super formal with me.”

That makes Taehyung smile. “Really?”

Looking over at Taehyung, you smile back. “Yes, really.”

And that was the last time you heard that title from either of them.

Jimin comes to the living room with a bottle of water and hands it to you before joining you and Taehyung on the couch.

“So.. Taehyungie and I, we don’t really like to make these meetings really professional or anything. We just treat them like we’re hanging out with a friend. Is that okay?” Jimin asks you.

“It’s really important to us to just.. become friends with the person we hire right away. We don’t want you to feel like staff, not really,” Taehyung adds.

Before you get a chance to say anything, Jimin is talking again.

“Dinner should be here soon. Tell us about how your other meetings went? Everyone else said you were really nice!”

That kind of surprises you, but you aren’t sure why. Maybe it’s because you’re still a little jaded over your meetings with Yoongi and Seokjin, so maybe you just forgot how good your meetings with Namjoon and Hoseok went.

“They.. mostly went okay,” you say. “Namjoon was great. He asked me a lot of questions.. but I think that was just him trying to do his job as leader, trying to make sure I’d be a good fit for all of you.”

Taehyung responds by agreeing, telling you that’s exactly what Namjoon was doing. “He always does that. Since he always meets people first, he likes to try to get a good feel for them before he gives the rest of us the okay to meet them. If Namjoon doesn’t get the right vibe from someone, he shuts it down before anyone else can get involved.”

“And Hobi-hyung?” Jimin questions you next.

“Hoseok was really friendly,” you say with a chuckle. “I felt like I already knew him. He made me feel comfortable right away.”

“Good. Hobi has that effect on people. He’s definitely a people person,” Jimin responds with a smile.

You don’t know exactly how to explain how your other two meetings went, so you take a second to take a sip of your water while you gather your thoughts. The two of them don’t push you to speak right away, and for that, you’re thankful.

“I don’t really know if I’m- supposed to share anything that isn’t good with everyone else,” you explain, but before you can finish that thought, Taehyung reassures you.

“We’ve been together for nearly fifteen years. Do you think we don’t tell each other everything already?”

The teasing smirk on his face tells you it really isn’t a big deal for you to talk about this. Because, apparently, according to him, they probably already know.

“When I met Seokjin.. he only had twenty minutes. So it was really rushed, I think. But Namjoon reassured me it was fine and asked if I’d spend more time with Seokjin, with him or Hoseok there next time. I got a.. weird vibe from Seokjin at first, but apparently that’s just how he is?” you say with a sheepish smile.

Jimin bursts out laughing at that, and your first reaction is to just stare at him.

“What did I say?” you ask, confused.

“Of course you got a weird vibe from Jin.. he is weird. But I promise, he’s not that bad. You’ll just have to get to know him more,” Taehyung explains through his own giggles.

Once Jimin finally stops laughing, his face turns more serious.

“Before you ask.. yes, we know what happened with Yoongi,” he starts.

“You do?” you ask after a moment of shocked silence. “I didn’t tell Namjoon what happened.. Yoongi told you?”

Taehyung sighs before answering. “Not exactly. He said you two met. Didn’t say much else. But.. he’s been pretty adamant about not wanting to bring someone along this tour. So I think we all expected him to act.. however he acted.”

Ah. So everyone already knew Yoongi had no interest in this whole situation. You don’t know why that surprises you.

“He was polite, don’t get me wrong,” you explain, “he just- didn’t say much. We had dinner at his place and he directly told me he didn’t know why you all were trying to hire someone.”

Jimin lets out an exhale before speaking.

“Yoongi-hyung’s.. complicated. I promise he is the biggest sweetheart once he lets someone in. He’s just.. it’s hard for him to do that.”

“Why?” you ask.

Taehyung is the one to gently shut that question down.

“Not our place to say. He might tell you eventually though, if he gets comfortable with you.”

With that conversation out of the way, even though you have more questions that clearly neither of them is going to answer, the atmosphere is much lighter.

The three of you get along really well, talking and laughing like old friends, just as you had with Hoseok. You all talk about everything except work-related stuff, laughing over stories from your childhood, sharing your hobbies, and just having normal conversation. Having dinner with them is so easygoing, you almost forget the real reason you’re there. But you suppose that’s the point, considering they both said they didn’t want to treat you like potential staff, but a friend instead.

“We think you’d be so fun to bring on tour with us,” Jimin declares after you’ve finished eating. “Right, Taehyungie?”

Taehyung agrees, more excited than you expected.

“Definitely. You’re not shy and you’re treating us like your friends,” he says, that huge boxy smile on his face now.

“Well, you two are super sweet,” you say simply. “It’s easy to reciprocate that energy.”

You notice the two of them exchanging a look, and you can’t help but ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“What’s that look for?”

“Everyone else already agrees. We just have to convince Yoongi,” Taehyung explains.

“We know you haven’t met Jungkookie yet. But he trusts all of us, so he’ll say yes, too,” Jimin adds.

“Would you be okay with doing us a favor?” Taehyung continues, an adorable pout on his face now.

Your brows furrow, unsure what they could possibly ask you to do.

“Depends,” you say hesitantly.

Jimin chuckles. “It’s nothing crazy.”

“Shoot, then,” you say, still skeptical but open to listening.

“We know Yoongi is difficult. He’s the biggest pain in the ass sometimes. But could you please see him again? Maybe invite Hobi, too?” Taehyung asks.

“Why Hobi? Wouldn’t Namjoon be the better person to ask?” you ask, slightly confused.

“Namjoon is Yoongi’s best friend, yes. But if he were to go with you, he’d try to fix everything. It’s just in his nature as leader. Hobi is Yoongi’s other best friend, and he would honestly just try to make things less awkward, not try to find a solution,” Jimin clarifies.

The tension you didn’t even know you were carrying in your shoulders begins to release then. You look between the two of them, not really sure how to respond to their ask.

“We can talk to Hobi. Put the idea in his head,” Jimin offers.

“Would Yoongi even want to see me again?” you ask.

“He might not want to,” Jimin says then, choosing to be honest, “but he still will, if Hobi asks him.”

Ouch.

“Way to be brutally honest,” you say with an awkward chuckle.

“Being honest is the best way to go about this. We won’t lie to you about it, or anything else,” Taehyung promises.

With a sigh, you say, “I promised Namjoon I wouldn’t use the first meetings to form my full opinion of anyone. So, I’d be fine with it. I don’t- I just don’t want Yoongi to hate me for being too pushy.”

Jimin nods understandingly. “He won’t hate you. He just needs time.”

“Okay, then yeah. I’m okay with it,” you agree.

“Good,” Taehyung says with that same signature boxy smile from earlier.

The evening comes to an end shortly after that, both Jimin and Taehyung promising to text you again soon so you can spend more time together. You head back to your own apartment, feeling simultaneously lighter and a bit more weighed down after tonight’s meeting. They were both incredibly nice, and you feel you could get along really well with them. But the thought of seeing Yoongi again, even with Hoseok there as a buffer between you, gives you a bit of anxiety. But, remembering your promise to Namjoon, you try to let it go for now. The only thought still running through your head is that you wonder why Yoongi is so closed off and against hiring you. Taehyung and Jimin wouldn’t tell you, so obviously it’s something personal. But you wonder if Yoongi will ever tell you, like they said he might someday, or if you’ll have to just sit in the dark, knowing he doesn’t want you on tour with them but not knowing why.

~~

October 2025

Unknown Number: Noona? It’s JK.

You: Hi, Jungkookie! How are you?

Kook: Good! You? I wanted to find out when you’re free so we can finally meet. :)

You: I’m great! I’m free anytime.. when works for you?

Kook: Friday night? I can make dinner at my house?

You: Okay, sounds great! :)

From what Jimin and Taehyung had told you, Jungkook would be even less formal than they were with you. Which made you happy, because truth be told, you can’t stand awkward formalities with new people. In a way, you’re like Seokjin in that aspect. Small talk always weirds you out, and you’d much rather just have normal conversations with people. But you also struggle with knowing how formal or informal you should be with people you’ve just met, so usually you end up just reading the room and going from there regarding formality. So, Jungkook’s casual texts already put you at ease before even meeting him in person.

Friday evening, you take the subway and get off at the station closest to his address. You walk the remaining ten minutes to his community, where you buzz the intercom to inform security of your arrival. Once you’re cleared to go inside, you step through the gate and make your way across the parking lot to Jungkook’s unit. You ring the doorbell and wait for him to answer, not feeling nervous in the slightest. Which is a welcome feeling, considering how your meetings with some of the others had made you feel beforehand.

“Noona! You made it,” Jungkook says when he opens the door with a huge smile.

You enter his house and slip your shoes off in the entryway, where he gestures to a pair of house slippers on a small shoe rack. “You can wear those,” he tells you.

Cute, you think. You slide your socked feet into the slippers, immediately noticing how comfortable they are. “Thank you,” you say, giving him a smile in return.

Jungkook leads the way through his house, all dark walls and open spaces that look a little too mafia-esque. From what you already know about him, it suits him, though.

“Your house is very you,” you point out as you follow him.

He looks at you curiously. “Good or bad thing?”

You chuckle softly then. “Definitely a good thing. I mean, it suits you.”

Taking you into his kitchen, Jungkook gestures to a bar chair before disappearing into what you assume is his pantry, rummaging through it for a few minutes before coming back out.

“Pasta okay?” he asks, holding up a box of noodles and some other ingredients.

You walk over to the kitchen sink, push your sleeves up, turn the tap on, and start washing your hands.

“What are you doing?” he asks you curiously, setting the ingredients down on the counter and going to the fridge to grab more of the things he needs.

“Washing my hands? Can’t cook without washing first,” you point out.

His hand stills midway to grabbing a cutting board, his brows furrowing.

“Noona, you don’t have to help. I’ve got it,” he tells you.

You turn the faucet off and dry your hands on a dish towel hanging nearby before turning to face him more.

“I’m not gonna just sit here and watch you cook, Jungkookie. I can help,” you reassure him.

“No, it’s—”

“Jungkook. I’m helping, okay?” you interrupt.

He sighs, sounding playfully exasperated, and grabs the cutting board he had first reached for, then pulls a chopping knife from the block on the counter.

“Fine. Can you chop onions?” he asks, holding the knife out handle-first to you.

The look on your face must have answered that question for him without you saying a word. He giggles, that adorable small laugh you know he does when he’s amused.

“I’m guessing not. You can start the noodles, then.”

Jungkook points you to the cabinet where he keeps the pots and pans, and you grab a pot for the noodles, along with a pan that he can use for the onions and sauce.

Cooking with him comes naturally, the two of you working around each other with no issues. While the onions are sizzling on the stove, he turns on his sound system to put music on and uncorks a bottle of white wine. He sets your filled glass on the counter next to you and sips from his own, stirring the onions again before finally adding the ingredients needed for the pasta sauce.

“Can you get plates from that cabinet, Noona?” he asks a bit later, pointing to a cabinet above your head.

You set your slotted spoon down and reach up to open the cupboard, but quickly realize the plates are definitely out of your reach. Jungkook just laughs again before moving behind you, one of his hands resting on the countertop by your waist and the other reaching up to grab two plates, the movement bringing his chest close to your back. You freeze, not wanting to move while he’s in that position to avoid making things awkward.

Once he puts the plates on the counter behind you both, he seems to realize how close he just got to you. Chewing his lip nervously, he says, “Shit- sorry, Noona. I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?”

Stirring the noodles again so they don’t stick, you shake your head.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not uncomfortable,” you respond.

“Are you sure?”

You give him a reassuring smile. “Positive, Jungkookie. I don’t mind being close to you.”

He releases a small breath, his bunny-toothed smile spreading across his face now.

“Okay.”

The two of you take your plates and wine glasses to the kitchen island, sitting down to eat.

Having drank more wine than you normally would, the atmosphere becomes much more comfortable between you and Jungkook. You two laugh, eat your pasta, watch an awful movie, and somehow eventually end up in his game room, sitting next to each other on the couch while he teaches you how to play some terrible video game that you really don’t have much interest in, but are willing to learn with him.

“Noona, you’re terrible at this!” Jungkook snorts, leaning to the side while laughing with his whole body.

“I told you I don’t play video games,” you say defensively, laughing too.

He then puts his hands over yours on your controller, trying to help you learn the buttons and moves that you need to actually play this game without dying every few seconds.

That doesn’t last long, because despite him being way better at this game than you are, he’s not exactly coordinated because of how much wine he’s drank, and it just causes you to die more often with the two of you fighting over the buttons.

“You are not helping, Jungkookie,” you giggle.

That makes him pout. Literally pout, his lower lip jutting out and wide, puppy eyes meeting yours for a minute.

“Rude,” he huffs.

By the time you check the time, you realize it’s already two a.m., and you grimace.

“Shit, I didn’t even notice the time. Subways aren’t running this late,” you say.

Jungkook pulls his phone out and sees how late it is, too, his eyes widening in shock.

“How is it that late already? I didn’t even realize,” he says apologetically. “I shouldn’t have kept you this long.”

“No, no. I had fun, you weren’t keeping me here,” you reassure him.

He wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his hold.

“You sure? I feel bad.”

You nod.

“Yeah, it’s okay, promise.”

Scrolling through his phone, Jungkook opens a message thread.

“I’ll have my driver come take you home,” he offers.

Your brow furrows, because you know you don’t really have another option, but you feel bad regardless.

“It’s late, I feel terrible,” you say softly.

“Our drivers are on call 24/7, Noona. It’s fine, it’s their job.”

“Bringing me home isn’t their job, Jungkookie,” you argue.

He turns his head and looks at you then.

“It is now. You’re working with us, right?”

You swallow, nodding hesitantly.

“Well, I- I haven’t heard otherwise, so I guess I am?”

Jungkook beams, his bunny teeth completely visible through his smile.

“Exactly,” he says simply, sending the message he’d just typed.

Ten minutes later, Jungkook is walking you to his front door, helping steady you as you take the house slippers off and push your feet into your own shoes.

“Let me get you a bottle of water. Make sure you drink the whole thing,” he says, already halfway to the kitchen again. He returns with a cool bottle of water and hands it to you.

“Thank you,” you say as you take the bottle, smiling at him.

“Of course, Noona.”

You sigh.

“Can you not call me ‘Noona’? Really, you don’t have to,” you ask.

He scrunches his nose in embarrassment.

“It’s not- I’m not calling you ‘Noona’ to be formal. It’s just, like.. affectionate,” he tries to explain.

You raise an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“Just because I’m older than you doesn’t mean you have to call me that, either.”

He rubs his hand over his face.

“I swear. It’s not that, either. I just- I don’t know, okay? It’s habit, how I grew up.”

His wide eyes are what make you fold, eventually.

“Fine. Jimin and Taehyung don’t call me that, though,” you point out.

“They’re different. I still want to, if that’s okay,” Jungkook asks then.

“Yeah, okay. I guess you can if you really want to.”

He smiles again, satisfied with his win.

You can’t help but roll your eyes, which only makes him laugh.

“Driver’s here. Just give him your address when you get in the car.”

Jungkook pulls his front door open and you step outside, the chilly air of the middle of the night in October hitting your face instantly.

“Can you text me to tell me when you get home?” he asks before you can walk away.

“Yeah, I will.”

You get into the blacked-out car waiting for you, settling in for the thirty-minute drive to your apartment. You doze on and off throughout the drive, the combination of too much wine and the late hour catching up with you. The driver politely wakes you once he pulls up to your building, and you sleepily thank him before getting out of the car and going upstairs to your apartment.

Once inside, you send Jungkook a quick ‘home’ text and get ready for bed.

Tonight definitely didn’t go how you expected. Jungkook was incredibly sweet, and you loved how friendly he already was with you from the get go. The way he’d treated you like you belonged there with him at his house, how the two of you had cooked together and worked around each other like you’d been doing it for years.. all of it was so surprising. Sure, Jimin and Taehyung had been really open and friendly with you, too, but not to the extent that Jungkook was. But it made you happy, made you feel welcome and like he would actually appreciate having you on the tour with them, so you were excited to see if you could build a friendship with him like everyone seemingly wanted to.

You’d finally met all seven of them. Aside from the weird vibe you got from Seokjin, and.. whatever was going on with Yoongi.. the initial meetings had all gone really well. None of them had explicitly told you they weren’t going to continue with your trial period, so for now, you’re safe. Your job is still safe, and you could still end up going on tour with them in five months.

Now.. well.

Now your only job is to somehow convince Yoongi that you won’t be a burden to have around during the tour.

And you have no idea how you’re going to accomplish that.

But you promised you’d try.

So, try you will.

~~

Exactly a month has passed since the tour began, and the energy here in Mexico City is absolutely wild. Just the fact that tens of thousands of people are congregating outside the stadium to hear the concert, even though they couldn’t get tickets, is astounding to you.

Backstage, you wait for the next intermission to start so you can make yourself useful somehow, because currently you’re just standing around since nothing has to be done right now. You’ve spent the last hour helping organize wardrobe, which the staff really appreciated, but that’s all you can do for now.

Suddenly, a flurry of activity begins, and you know the dancers are about to enter the backstage area after the Idol parade at the end of the second section of the concert. You quickly move out of the way so they can all get through to the wardrobe area.

“How’s your ankle?” you ask Sol, one of the dancers you’ve befriended recently.

Mid-step, she looks at you with a small grimace.

“It’s bearable. Hurts a little, but I can get through the rest of the concert,” she reassures you, “thanks for asking, love!”

You nod as she continues on her way to wardrobe to get changed, but your attention is fully caught when the members enter the backstage area immediately following their dancers.

“Tae.. is that a corn dog?” you ask, barely containing your laughter.

Jungkook is already losing his mind laughing, stripping his sweat-soaked shirt from his body as he walks next to Taehyung in your direction.

“He stopped at a food stall while we were doing the parade,” he explains, snorting with laughter now.

Taehyung’s wide, puppy eyes (something he unfortunately has in common with Jungkook) meet your gaze then. “I got hungry,” he says defensively, bringing the corn dog to his mouth for another bite.

You can’t help but facepalm, giggling. He finishes his corn dog and, without him asking, you take the empty stick and wrapper from him so he can go get his outfit changed and hair and makeup fixed.

On your way to the trash can, Jimin passes by you and simply presses a quick kiss to your temple on his way to wardrobe. “You’re too sweet to us,” he offers offhandedly. “Thank you.”

You just smile as he walks away, momentarily stunned by the gesture. You don’t know why, because Jimin’s always been affectionate with you, even more so after your time in Tampa. But his random hugs and kisses to your cheek or temple still throw you off most of the time.

“Uh- what was that?” Sol asks, causing you to jump a bit because you didn’t know she had finished with wardrobe already and definitely didn’t know she was behind you.

You turn around to see her giving you a knowing smile.

“He always does that, I don’t know,” you explain.

It’s not like you’re ashamed of your job here, but no one’s ever asked you directly about any of your interactions with the members, so the question makes you feel a little.. exposed?

“Mm. Sure he does,” she muses, the corner of her mouth lifting a bit more in a small smirk.

“Jimin’s just- he’s affectionate, okay? I don’t have an explanation other than that,” you say, a bit defensive.

Sol holds her hand up in a placating gesture. “I’m not judging anything. We all know why you’re here. I’m just saying.. he’s very openly affectionate with you, isn’t he?”

Your cheeks burn a little, knowing she’s right.

“Oh- Oh, there’s a story there, huh?” she asks teasingly.

Your mouth moves into a tight-lipped smile, and that’s all she needs to get her answer.

“Come hang out with me and Eunchae after? I want to hear all about this,” she says, a hint of excitement in her voice.

You sigh, because you aren’t really sure if you’re even allowed to do that. You know you signed a ton of contracts about privacy and confidentiality, but since all the other staff on this tour know exactly why you’re there, you don’t know if those rules apply to them. But you don’t even know who to ask about that, so the topic is a little sensitive to you. But considering that they’ve all signed confidentiality contracts, too… you guess it’s fine.

“Um.. yeah, okay,” you finally say in agreement. She claps her hands excitedly before disappearing to who knows where.

This intermission is the longer of the two, giving the fans time to show their signs on the big screens while the members all get a decent amount of rest before the final segment of the concert. So you’re unsurprised when your phone buzzes.

Tae: come sit with me?

You grab a water bottle from the box on a table and make your way down the hallway to Taehyung’s dressing room, not bothering to knock since he’s told you before that you don’t have to. You slip into the room and find him sprawled on the couch, breathing a bit heavy. You can tell he’s exhausted, the energy required for the second section of the concert having taken a lot out of him like it always does.

Moving to the couch, you sit near him and hold out the water.

“Brought you this,” you say, and he takes the bottle and downs half of it in seconds.

“Thanks,” he says, that boxy smile on his face despite his obvious exhaustion.

“Just want company or do you need something?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer with words, instead moving to lay his head in your lap like he’s done countless times before.

“Wanted to see you,” he answers, his voice a little quieter now.

That makes you smile, looking down at him. You thread your fingers into his hair and scratch his scalp, not caring about messing up his hair too much since you know he’ll have to go to his stylist right before he goes back on stage, anyway.

Checking your watch, you know he only has maybe ten minutes before he has to get up and get to his stylist.

“Everything okay?” you ask him.

To your surprise, he turns onto his side and buries his face in your stomach, his arm snaking around you in a makeshift hug.

“Oh- okay,” you say softly, moving your free hand to his back and rubbing it while your other hand continues to play with his hair. “It’s okay, Tae. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. We can just stay like this.”

He makes a soft, barely audible sound against your stomach, likely a sigh or a hum, but you can’t tell which.

You feel his body melt more into you, and you know he’s relaxing just from being in the quiet with you with your hands on him.

A few minutes later, Taehyung extracts himself from your arms and sits up, his hand cupping the side of your jaw as he finally looks at you.

The touch on your cheek doesn’t bother you. Taehyung has always been more open to physical contact with you, and he makes you feel seen. He’s attentive like Jimin, sweet like Jungkook, and he’s one of the members you’re closest with. So you don’t question the hand on your jaw.

“I have to be back in five minutes,” he says quietly.

“I know. I’ll remind you to go so you’re not late,” you offer.

There’s a brief pause before he speaks again.

“I know it’s not the best timing,” he continues then.

That’s what makes you tilt your head in curiosity. “Best timing for what, Tae?”

He leans a little closer, his breath ghosting your face as he quietly asks, “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

Your brows scrunch together, not having expected that question.

“Right now?” you ask quietly.

He nods. “Yeah. I’ve wanted to for a while, but- I don’t want to pressure you into anything.”

Your eyes briefly flicker to his lips before you have a chance to respond.

You can’t deny that Taehyung is very cute. They all are, in different ways. But the way that Taehyung has always treated you like a friend, like someone he cares about (even if he actually doesn’t).. that’s what’s always drawn you to him.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asks you, his voice still quiet.

You nod, choosing to be honest, like he’s always promised he would be with you.

“Can I, then?” he asks, his eyes darting to your mouth before they meets yours again.

“Yeah,” you say softly, “you can.”

His eyes soften noticeably, and he pulls you in by your jaw, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss.

The kiss is sweet, soft. His lips move slowly against yours, his hand never leaving your jaw. It’s mostly innocent, not heated or wanting or laced with any further intentions. But you feel the catch of his breath when you return the kiss, matching his pace with your hand resting on his bicep. Before the kiss has a chance to deepen, he pulls back, his nose brushing yours as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Thank you. I feel a lot better now,” he whispers, a small smile gracing his lips.

You can’t help but quietly giggle at that.

“Don’t say that. You don’t have to thank me for kissing you,” you point out.

Taehyung releases your jaw and sits back further, scanning your face before he speaks again.

“I’m not. I’m thanking you for letting me kiss you,” he clarifies.

Your watch beeps, signaling that it’s time for him to go, effectively breaking the moment between you two.

“Go get your hair and makeup touched up. I’ll be here after,” you tell him, giving him an encouraging nudge.

He stands and goes to the door of his dressing room, looking back at you with the softest expression you’ve ever seen on his face, before he’s gone.

Well, then.

Something has definitely changed between you and Taehyung. You didn’t see it coming, either. You thought maybe this would’ve happened with Jimin first, considering that night in Tampa. But you don’t mind either way. You knew all along that things like this could happen. You’ve talked about it with Namjoon before, however awkward that conversation might’ve been, and you told him you were okay with it as long as it wasn’t sprung on you without warning.

Getting up to leave the dressing room, your mind can’t help but go to other places now. You wonder if he’ll tell the others. How much do they truly share with each other? You wonder, now that that bridge has been crossed, will things change between you and the rest of them, too? Not that it matters, because that definitely isn’t the sole reason you’re here on tour with them. But you just can’t help but think about how things will look now that one of them has crossed over the line of you being just professional staff and into something more than that.

The remaining segment of the concert goes by in a blur, you helping with tidying up the backstage area so everyone can leave sooner rather than later. Your thoughts race, helping pass the time in very unhelpful ways. When the members come in at the end of the night, none of them say a thing to you about what happened with Taehyung, making you wonder if they don’t know or if they just aren’t saying anything because it’s not really their business.

You check in with each of them, making sure they have what they need before they all pile into the cars that will take them back to the hotel. When you get to Yoongi, who’s been conveniently waiting away from everyone else, you don’t even get the chance to offer him help before he says just one word to you.

“Figures,” he scoffs, picking up his bag and walking straight past you to the exit.

A jolt of surprise, and, admittedly, a bit of hurt, courses through you at his hasty departure. Things have still been a little awkward between you ever since that first concert, but he’s never spoken to you like that before. Not even when you first met him and he was still treating you like he wanted nothing to do with you.

So why now, all of a sudden, is he acting like this?

It’s Namjoon who gives you a knowing, almost sympathetic look when he notices the expression on your face. He doesn’t say anything, though. Maybe because he doesn’t need to, or maybe because he does, but can’t. Either way, you aren’t sure what to do now.

How are you going to fix whatever it is that’s bothering Yoongi?

You truly have no clue. The two of you aren’t exactly close, so you don’t feel you can just go ask him to talk to you. But.. what other option do you have? You can either try to talk to him, or let it fester until it gets worse. And that’s the last thing you want.

Sigh.

Chapter 1 - Not Today, Satan

Chapter 2 - Maybe Today, Satan

Honestly, sometimes your ability to pull hot men shocks you. It doesn’t only happen at night when you’re weirdly dreaming about your hot, daddy-dom neighbor being Satan, tempting you with his sexy biceps and boobs. You’re actually here, in his apartment, sitting on said hot, daddy-dom neighbor’s thick thighs as he sucks on your throat and squeezes your tits. 

Namjoon is even hotter in real life than he was as Satan in your dreams, though you can’t help but think about your dream while he’s pulling off your shirt to trail kisses across your collarbones and reaching around you to unclasp your bra. 

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” Namjoon moans against your chest as he drags his tongue across one of your nipples, flicking it repeatedly until it’s hard and soaked with his spit. His tongue isn’t pointy and forked like it had been in your dream, but that’s fine!

“Not as sexy as you,” you insist with your fingers threaded through his hair. 

Namjoon’s hair is short and bleached with highlights, and you think he’s probably the only person in the twenty-first century who can pull off bleached tips without looking like Lance from NSYNC. 

Is there any NSYNC fanfiction on AO3? If there is, it’s probably Lance/Justin. 

Not to kink-shame anyone, but ew. 

You’re pulled from your distracting thoughts by Namjoon grabbing your ass and helping you grind against the bulge in his pants. He’s still wearing his slacks, having just come home from work. You were supposed to go on a dinner date since his daughter is staying with her mother over the weekend. 

As a respectful father (hot), Namjoon has avoided mixing his dating life with his family life. It’s what’s best for now since the two of you are still getting to know each other. Only recently did your dreams of Purgatory and Hell push you to ask Namjoon out. It makes sense that he wants to take things slow with introducing you into his daughter’s life. 

You’re definitely not taking things slow in other areas of your dating life, though. 

“Is it weird if I say that I dreamt about this?” you ask when Namjoon hooks his arms around your thighs and carries you out of the living room. His strength is impressive, even if his bedroom isn’t far from where you’d been. 

“Not at all. I’ve dreamt about you, too.” 

Namjoon seems shy when he confesses, but you suppose it actually is kind of weird, and the two of you are probably just weird together. Which is nice. Sexy or not, you wouldn’t be able to vibe with Namjoon if he couldn’t keep up with your weirdness. 

“Oh, did you?” you purr as Namjoon reaches under your miniskirt to pull your thong down your legs. 

“Mhm,” he hums against your neck when he hovers over you, slotting himself between your legs so he can grind his thigh against your exposed pussy. 

One of the buttons on his white work shirt catches on your nipple. The rough drag makes your body shiver with goosebumps. When you try to unbutton his shirt, he grabs your hand and pins it to the bed above your head. 

“Keep it on,” Namjoon whispers in your ear. 

His breath is hot against your face, and his voice is deep and scratchy. If you close your eyes, you can almost imagine something darker in his tone, something demonic. It’s so hot you feel your pussy throb and slick up even more. When Namjoon pulls away, there’s a dark spot on his pants from how wet you are. 

“Can I eat you out?” Namjoon’s request is more like a plea, a hopeful lilt to his voice when he speaks. He runs his palms up your thighs to push your miniskirt further up your waist to expose more of your body.

“You don’t even have to ask a question like that.” 

“From behind?” 

“Fuck, yeah, oh my god.” You throw your head back with a dramatic groan before rolling onto your stomach and transitioning to resting on your forearms and knees. “Please, I didn’t even get to the fucking in my dream about you, so I need this.” 

Squeezing your asscheeks, Namjoon pulls you apart and uses his leg to push your knees apart more to open you. 

“I definitely got to the fucking part in mine,” Namjoon says with a chuckle as he runs his thumb over your pussy, first gathering your arousal from where it leaks at your entrance and gliding it up to wet your clit even more. 

“What,” you swallow the drool you’re afraid might come out of you when Namjoon picks up the pace, “What was your dream like?” 

“I don’t know if I should tell you. It was weird.” 

He circles your clit, occasionally thumbing at it with gentle flicks at the tip that makes your legs shake. When you start kicking your foot and moaning louder, he finally brings his mouth down to where you throb for him. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan against Namjoon’s bed sheets. 

You’ve got your face pressed into the bed because you can’t keep your head up as he fucks his tongue in you while he rubs your clit with his slick fingers. He moans against your pussy when he switches positions so he’s fingering you while he laps at your clit. His movements are languid, which drives you even crazier than if he’d been fingerfucking you hard enough to make your ass jiggle.

“Good?” he murmurs with his lips slick and his fingers still massaging your walls.

“So good, god, your lips are so perfect, fuck,” you moan and push back against his face. “Tell me your dream. Was it like this?”

Namjoon kisses your clit before bringing his other hand to rub it while he still fingers you. Leaning back on his knees, Namjoon increases the speed of his movements as he admits, “You were the Devil, and I fucked you so good that you kept me as a pet.” 

“I WHAT?” 

You turn around to stare at Namjoon with wide eyes and an inability to say anything more as your orgasm rips a whiny moan out of you, legs shaking and threatening to collapse. Namjoon wraps his arm around your waist and keeps rubbing your clit until you wiggle away from him when you grow too sensitive. 

Namjoon wipes his messy fingers on your thigh and shrugs. 

“I told you it was a weird dream.”

You shouldn’t be surprised that Satan is hot. He’s the Devil, the king of temptation and all that is evil. Being hot is probably the most crucial part of the job, aside from the eternal damnation and torturing of souls or whatever. 

That stuff doesn’t seem as fun, at least not to you, especially since you’ll be one of those tortured souls. 

“So, Satan, is that what I’m supposed to call you?” You stare up at the man – demon? Devil! – as he leads you down the winding hallways of what you’ve named the Demon DMV. “Or is there something else you’d like me to call you? Daddy, perhaps?” 

As was the case with Hoseok when he brought you into his office for questioning, the walls and ceiling waver and expand to accommodate the ebb and flow of power radiating from Satan. He’s larger than life, with thick thighs and bulging biceps tightening the sleek fabric of his black suit. He’s sharply dressed, and the demon henchmen who flank the two of you on all sides are equally as put-together.

“Silence, pet,” Satan snaps and yanks on your bicep to drag you around a sharp corner. “You will speak when you are spoken to and only then.” 

There’s that term again: pet. Hearing it makes your stomach flutter. 

“Okay, but that doesn’t answer my question?” 

The muscles in Satan’s jaw ripple when he grinds his molars in frustration. You should probably be scared, but he’s so hot! Even with the third eyelid! You wonder if his teeth are as pointy as Hoseok’s. Probably even sharper. Maybe demon fangs are like dicks; the bigger, the better. 

“My true name is Namjoon.” It’s a cute name, definitely moanable. 

Tilting your head back to smile brightly at Namjoon, you flash your pearly white teeth and bat your eyelashes. “It’s nice to officially meet you, Joonie. I think we’ll get along very well.” 

Namjoon nearly trips you when he comes to a halt in front of another black door marked “EMPLOYEES ONLY” in thick gold lettering. This really is the fucking DMV. 

“Do not shorten my name,” Namjoon scolds. His slitted eyes glow in the dim hallway lighting, and his dimples hollow his cheeks as he sucks on his teeth. 

“Yessir,” you say with a curt nod. He can’t stop you from calling him Joonie in your head, though. “So, where are we going?” 

Positioned around Namjoon, his henchmen ready their stances as though Namjoon’s irritation is physically palpable. There are four of them, all demons, you assume. Their horns resemble Hoseok’s: black and twisted at the ends with strange markings, though each demon’s horns have unique shapes. One of the demons catches you staring at him and gives you a lopsided, boxy grin. The black of his irises bleed into the whites of his eyes. It’s unsettling, but you can’t seem to look away.

The demon henchmen are all hot, too. Is Hell full of hot people? Or is it only the “employees”? You suppose the other dead people you saw in the DMV waiting room weren’t particularly attractive, especially the drowned lady. She was too rude to be hot. 

Namjoon smiles at you, his pointy teeth sharp enough to slice through flesh. His fingers dig into your bicep hard enough to be painful, but all you feel is the heat of desire warming your bones. 

“We’re going to Hell.” 

Hell is kind of stupid. 

If Purgatory is the DMV, Hell is the boring suburban neighborhood in which it’s located. You assumed at least Namjoon’s house would be interesting, but he may as well be the CEO of an accounting firm for how plainly expensive Satan’s Palace is. It’s not even gothic – not a single pointy tower in sight. The building is nearly all glass and sits nestled in a gated community, far away from the hustle and bustle of what the boxy-grinned demon refers to as “the Pits” – the slums of this world, where the tortured souls are sent to rot for eternity. 

Apparently, even Hell is not immune to the strange minimalism aesthetic that 21st-century late-stage capitalism has created and the class divide that comes with it. How terribly unfortunate. 

You follow behind Namjoon as he leads you through the expansive foyer of his home. You never considered where the Devil lives. The only image you ever had in your mind was Satan on a throne of fire and brimstone. Maybe Namjoon has that somewhere in his house. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

Namjoon narrows his slitted eyes at you. When his tongue swipes across his bottom lip, you notice that it’s forked just like Hoseok’s. That’s really hot. 

“You already have.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you cross your arms against your chest. You’re silent for a moment and choose to focus on your surroundings and not on the insufferable demon king. Strange shadows hover in the room’s corners and ripple as you pass through to what you think is a living room. The shadows follow you, though they seem to waver when Namjoon looks in their direction. Shaped like human shadows, they walk just as you walk, but they aren’t your own. 

To the left sits a grand piano, blood red like the furniture decorating the room. Namjoon plops onto the couch and picks up a small tablet laptop from the coffee table. It feels oddly domestic, and part of you is disappointed that he hasn’t impaled you with a pitchfork yet. 

“Well, I’ll ask another,” you announce defiantly from where you stand beside the couch. You aren’t sure if you’re supposed to sit down with Namjoon. What is even going on here? 

Namjoon types away on the tablet, pulling up what you recognize is the database of souls that Hoseok used back at Purgatory to figure out how you ended up here in the first place. You certainly haven’t forgotten that you aren’t supposed to be here. You’re not dead! 

“If you’re the reason why humans are tempted to sin, why do you punish us when we do?” If Namjoon’s devil powers are why you derive pleasure from reading One Direction serial killer AUs on AO3, then it’s hardly fair that you must go to Hell for it when it’s his fault. 

Namjoon pauses his research to lift those hauntingly beautiful glowing eyes to peer up at you. “Because it’s fun.” 

“You’re an asshole.” 

With an appreciative hum, Namjoon pats the spot next to him on the couch. “Sit, pet. I have something to show you.” 

A terrifying energy thrums from Namjoon’s body when you sit beside him. It feels oppressive, like something is sitting on your chest and digging its claws into your sternum. The sensation makes breathing difficult, but you don’t make a sound as Namjoon holds out the laptop. There is a video of you on the screen, sound asleep in your bed at home. Your apartment is dark, with just a hint of pale blue light seeping through the curtains to indicate that dawn is slowly approaching. 

“What the fuck is this?” It’s giving stalker, to be honest. 

The sound of Namjoon’s snort shouldn’t be hot, but it is. “You are asleep, you idiot.” 

You’re asleep. 

“So… you mean to tell me this is all fake?” 

Namjoon grins with blades for teeth. His tan skin glows with a reddish undertone that compliments the blood-red accents in the room. Something about how the shadows alter his appearance makes you look more deeply at him. Admittedly, most of your time in Namjoon’s presence has been spent staring at his boobs, but now, you’re realizing…

“Oh my god, you’re my fucking neighbor!” 

Namjoon’s forked tongue slips from between his lips to curl at the corner of his mouth. Hot air rushes through his nostrils in a loud snort. 

“Kinky of you to dream of me as the Devil, isn’t it?” Tossing the laptop to the side, Namjoon leans back and crosses his arms behind his head. His biceps strain against the material of his suit jacket. 

Your next-door neighbor, Kim Namjoon, is a total daddy. Quite literally! He has an adorable five-year-old daughter and a little kitten he got for Christmas last year. No mom in the picture, which is sad for the girl but just fine with you because you’ve been fantasizing about the day that you–

“You haven’t even introduced yourself to me in real life yet,” Namjoon rudely points out. He can hear your thoughts because none of this is real. 

“Fuck you!” you curse with a stomp of your foot. “I can’t believe we didn’t even fuck or anything. All you’ve done in this dream is annoy me.” 

Namjoon shrugs. “It’s your dream. You can do whatever you want.” 

Purgatory looked like the DMV. 

You should have expected it, honestly. Wasn’t it represented as some type of waiting room in Beetlejuice? Or maybe you were misremembering. Ever since you’d stepped through the front doors, your mind felt foggy. When you looked back through the windows, no parking lot met your gaze. Instead, a soft gray haze was pressed against the glass, causing a bit of condensation to gather. 

How had you gotten here? 

The answer to that seemed a bit foggy, too. 

“Are you going to take a fucking number or just stand there like an idiot?” 

The bristled voice shocked you into action. Stepping forward, you ripped a number tag from the stand directly in front of the door and moved to the side for the voice behind you. A few droplets of water splattered against your ankles when the person reached for their tag. 

You suppressed a gasp. 

She was completely soaked, so wet that she left a trail of water wherever she walked, like some kind of snail or slug. It was difficult to tell what her original complexion was because her skin was now a deep turquoise. Bits of twigs and what looked like seaweed twisted into her hair. 

You followed the stranger’s water trail through the folding chairs lining the large waiting room. The speckled brown carpet squished beneath your sneakers. A bit of water was leaking inside to wet your socks. 

“Number 746!” 

A robotic voice beeped out the number over the speakers just as you sank into an empty folding chair. A man with large, dirty bandages wrapped around his head and over one eye stood from his seat beside you. He clutched a folder of papers to his chest and limped to the counter at the front of the room. 

Three people in matching black professional uniforms sat behind the counter. You thought they resembled bank tellers from how they were spread out with glass barriers separating each person’s portion of the counter. The first two employees sat too far away to make out important details of their faces, but the third was only a few feet away from you. 

He was easily the most beautiful person you’d ever seen in your life. The sharp cut of his jawline and the thin length of his nose slicing through high cheekbones and deep-set eyes made it difficult for you to pull your gaze away from him. Luckily, he was none the wiser of your ogling, for his attention was spent on assisting the person standing in front of the counter. You were free to marvel at his angular features, eventually shifting your eyes from the bow of his lips to examine some of his gentler features. His hair was dark like his outfit and fell soft against his forehead. Poking out of the layered waves were two thick… horns. 

You pressed your thumbs into your eyes, but when you moved them away the horns remained. 

They twisted at the tips, spiraling in opposite directions. A swirling pattern was etched into each of them. It reminded you of fingerprints. 

“Number 749!” 

You glanced down at the crumbled tag in your hand. 749. 

With a sigh, you trudged up to the counter and stood in front of the beautiful man with twisted horns poking out of dark, luscious hair. 

“I need an official form of identification and your death certificate.” 

You stared at him blankly. 

“An official form of identification and your death certificate,” he repeated with more force. 

“I… don’t have a death certificate.” 

Were you dead? How had you died? How could you have possibly received a death certificate if you were dead? You assumed your mother would have it; that was how things went, right? 

The name badge clipped to his shirt read Hoseok, Assistant Manager. Assistant Manager of what? Purgatory?? What in the fuck was going on. 

Hoseok turned to the computer sitting off to the side of his desk. 

“What is your full name and date of birth?” 

You gave him the information he was looking for and leaned forward to watch him tap away at the keyboard. What appeared to be a profile of you flashed across the screen. There was a photo of you, the one from your driver’s license. A few stats about you like your height and where you were born. Toward the bottom of the screen in large red block letters read TIME OF DEATH. You were pretty sure the date was recent, but you didn’t know what day it was currently. Before you could read further, Hoseok closed out the page. 

“I need you to come with me,” Hoseok said abruptly. He gestured for you to step around the counter. 

You took a look over your shoulder. No one else needed to go behind the counter, as far as you could tell. Although, you hadn’t paid much attention to the other people waiting for… whatever it was everyone was doing here. You still didn’t know. 

With a nervous inhale that tickled your throat, you followed the… man? Whatever he was, through a door marked for employees only. 

(So they were called employees. Hence the Assistant Manager badge, and all. What the fuck kind of job was this?)

Scurrying behind him to catch up with his long gait, you noticed that this person was tall. Like, impossibly tall. Come to think of it, it wasn’t just his height that was staggering. Everything about his presence seemed larger than life, like the very walls of the hallway needed to shift and expand to accommodate the power radiating off of him as he walked. You kept your eyes trained on his lean shoulders, watching the way his shoulder blades and back muscles made his shirt ripple when he breathed or turned around the corner. 

“Ahem.” You cleared your throat. 

Silence. 

“Ahem.” 

You did a little skip to speed up your walking and finally fell in line with the man. You flashed him what you’d consider an award-winning grin. 

“Hoseok, right? You’re really fucking tall.” 

He glanced down at you out of the corner of his eye. 

So, a man of few words. Unless he was snapping at you about IDs and death certificates. Apparently. 

“Where are we going?” 

Hoseok immediately halted, catching you by surprise and nearly causing you to trip. 

“Here.” With an outstretched arm, Hoseok opened the door to a simple office. He held it for you as you crossed the threshold. 

“Please, take a seat.” 

You eased into one of the chairs in front of the desk, which Hoseok sat behind once he snapped the door shut. The fabric scratched into the back of your legs. 

Up close, Hoseok was even more breathtaking. You found that the horns weren’t as much of a creepy turnoff as you may have initially thought. Somehow, paired with the shimmering red tint to his eyes and the slits he had instead of proper circular pupils, you were rather turned on by this… otherworldly look he had going for him. It was spooky, in an “emo kid who works at Hot Topic and thinks Happy Tree Friends is edgy” kind of way. So… not spooky at all. Just endearing to the part of your brain where you’d locked up all your teen angst. 

“Do you know why you’re here?” 

You watched a transparent film slide sideways across Hoseok’s eyes and you realized he blinked with a third eyelid. 

Weird, but kind of hot. Fuck conventional beauty standards! You could dig it.  

“Because a handsome stranger brought me here?” You took a shot in the dark, though Hoseok didn’t appear to have followed you. He stared at you with his third eyelid and his slitted pupils and his sharpened teeth. 

Wow, he had really pointy teeth. 

“You’re here because…” Hoseok drummed his fingers against the surface of his desk. His nails were black and chipped. “You were never reaped.” 

“Reaped? Like, the Grim Reaper?” 

A low hiss came from the back of Hoseok’s throat. The sound made your skin prickle. 

“The Grim Reaper is not real.” His voice slithered out of his mouth at the same time his tongue did. It was red and forked. “You were supposed to be reaped by one of us when you died,” he gestured to himself, “a demon.” 

Well, obviously he was a demon. Or else he had a great sense of fashion. 

You leaned forward to rest your arms on Hoseok’s desk. If he thought his freaky tongue and animalistic eyes were going to scare you, he was terribly wrong. You’d been on Vampirefreaks.com back when it was still a social media platform. 

“Listen, Hoseokie. Can I call you Hoseokie?” Silence. “I don’t know why I’m here and I don’t know how I got here, but I promise you, I am not dead.” 

With a sigh, Hoseok flipped open the laptop on his desk. After a few moments of typing, he slid it toward you, adjusting the screen to make it easier for you to see. 

There was your profile again. Hoseok quickly scrolled down to the section you hadn’t gotten to read earlier, the part about when you’d died. 

“In my records, it states you are dead. As of,” he turned the screen toward himself for a moment, “As of 7 PM yesterday. Yet there is no record of how you died, where you died, nor which demon escorted you here. And no death certificate on file.” 

Clearly, the missing death certificate situation had rubbed the guy the wrong way. 

Maybe you should have felt more concerned that you had a snake-eyed self-proclaimed demon trying to convince you that you were dead and chilling out in Purgatory unchaperoned. But this was all fake, obviously. A dream. There was nothing to worry about. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Hoseokie.” You gave the man - demon - a shrug. 

Hoseok’s eyebrows pulled toward each other, causing the skin on his forehead to crease. 

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter.” 

“Oh really?” 

Hoseok pursed his lips and gave you a curt nod. 

“It already states here that you’ll be going to Hell, so I may as well just reap you myself since no one else has. I need to go downstairs anyway. We’ve been getting a high volume of damned souls recently and working overtime can be sustainable for only so long…” 

Whatever else Hoseok had to say about “demon burnout” during a time when debauchery was at its highest on Earth (“Aside from the 70s, wow, the 70s was a time.”), you didn’t hear the rest of it. There were more important things to worry about. 

You were going to Hell. 

“Wait, wait, wait, Hoseokie, wait a minute.” You curled your fingers around the edge of his laptop screen. “I’m going to Hell? For what?! I have done nothing wrong, ever, in my life.” 

This was the part where Hoseok was supposed to say, “I know this, and I love you.” 

Except he didn’t! The bastard just let his gorgeous mouth hang open and flicked his freaky forked tongue over those pearly fangs. 

“I beg to differ.” 

“How would you know?” 

A small smirk flitted across Hoseok’s face and you felt your stomach twist into knots. 

“Your memories, your experiences, your life - none of that belongs to you.” 

You couldn’t tell which was more unnerving, the words he said or the dark tone he said them in. With a shiver, you chose to ignore whatever riddle he was speaking to you in and tried to change your strategy. 

“Hoseokie, baby.” You ran your perfectly normal tongue along your lips and leaned even further into your companion’s personal space - as much as you could with a desk in between you. “Let’s not get carried away here.” 

“Proper protocol was not followed, so we must rectify that,” Hoseok huffed. His shoulders sagged slightly, causing him to lean inward. Maybe your cute nickname was finally breaking him. 

“Do we really?” 

“Yes.” 

“But, really? Hoseokie, babe, do I look like I belong in Hell?” 

The demon blinked with his third eyelid a few times. You watched the slit of his pupils flicker as he genuinely took the time to look you over. It was a hypothetical question and now you were scared of the actual answer. He was a demon, after all. He’d know what a damned soul looked like, right? 

“Well.” You watched Hoseok’s throat bob as he swallowed. “You did read a lot of serial killer fanfiction on AO3.” 

You scoffed, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms against your chest. 

“Are you kink-shaming me right now?” 

Hoseok mirrored your scoff and busied himself with tidying up a stack of loose papers on his desk, but you saw the way his cheeks turned a healthy shade of pink. 

Interesting. 

“So, I’m going to Hell because I read One Direction serial killer AUs? Really? That’s why I’m going to Hell?” 

“No!” Hoseok huffed again, louder this time. He ran his fingers through his hair and gave you a pleading look. “I don’t know! I don’t decide who goes to Hell, I just take them there!” 

“Then don’t take me.” 

It seemed like the obvious solution, but Hoseok looked at you like you’d threatened to kill him. 

“I have to take you.” 

“Oh yeah? Or else what?” You were back to leaning against his desk, your head in your hands and your elbows on the surface. “Satan damns you to some horrible eternal punishment?” 

Hoseok turned his head and mumbled to the side, “Something like that.”

You wanted to ask him what it mattered if he was already a demon working for Satan, but you figured that would push him a bit too far. Instead, you were just going to beg. Considering the circumstances, you allowed yourself to do it without hurting your self-respect. Dire times, dire measures. 

“Hoseokie, please,” you whined with your bottom lip jutted out. You reached out to hook your finger around one of his, pulling his hand away from where it rested against his chin. “Please, don’t take me to Hell. Let me stay here, with you.” 

“With me?” Hoseok’s eyes widened, slitted pupils dilating into ovals. 

“Mhmm, wouldn’t that be nice?” you purred, lightly tracing the lines of his palm with your index finger. “You’re so pretty and you look so stressed. What did you say earlier, about burnout? They aren’t taking care of you here, are they, Hoseokie?” 

The demon bit his lip. His razor-sharp teeth pressed deep indents into what you knew were soft pink lips. 

“I could help you out, Hoseokie, baby.” 

Those dark eyes shimmered red and finally met your gaze, though his face was still flushed and his expression almost… timid. 

“Help me out?” he murmured, almost as though he were talking himself through the conversation rather than asking you a question. 

“Mhmm…” 

You pressed your hands flat against the desk and hoisted yourself on top of it. The stack of papers Hoseok had just fixed went flying. He weakly reached out to stop a few of them from slipping off and floating to the carpeted floor. 

“I don’t know.” Hoseok’s voice wavered, though you had to give him credit for his ability to maintain eye contact with you as you scooted across the desk. 

“I think you do know, Hoseokie.” 

Hoseok shook his head, third eyelids putting in work to blink away the shock when you eased yourself into his lap. 

You’d been so caught up on how tall and menacing he’d looked in the hallway that you hadn’t stopped to consider the rest of his details, like how firm and comfortable his thighs were. You wiggled your ass to get settled, eliciting a low groan from the demon whose red eyes still rounded under your gaze. 

“I’m going to get in trouble,” he pleaded with you when you dug your fingers into his hair and yanked his head backward. “I really don’t want to get in trouble.” 

“And I really don’t want to go to Hell.” You dug your teeth into the soft skin of his throat and Hoseok let out a whimpered hiss. “Do you see our problem here?”

Of course, he could see the problem, but Hoseok was driven mute by your free hand palming his cock through his pants. His hold on your waist was bruisingly tight, but you kept a firm grip on his hair and a hot hand on his crotch. There was no way he was getting an upper hand in this, not that you expected him to. He was whimpering and pliant underneath you already. 

Maybe you were absolutely insane, but if you had to suck some demon dick to get out of Hell, you were going to fucking do it. No matter how weird it probably looked. 

“Y/N, wait.” Hoseok shuddered as you popped open the button of his pants and dragged down the zipper. “Listen to me, it’s not, it’s not a good idea.” 

You let your fingertips dance along the waistband of his underwear. You weren’t sure why it was funny that he was wearing underwear; it just seemed like such a silly thing for a demon to need. Out here reaping souls and getting angry over death certificates, and going to the store to buy underwear after work. 

It was just funny. 

“Why not, Hoseokie? Don’t tell me they don’t let you have a little fun around here.” You batted your eyes at him and slide your hand beneath the fabric. 

“It’s not- fuck.” 

Hoseok tried to lean forward, to curl into himself, when you pressed your thumb against his leaking slit, but you kept his head pulled backward by his hair. 

“Now, I’m gonna tell you what we’re gonna do, okay Hoseokie baby?” 

The demon opened his mouth to speak and you shivered as his forked tongue wet his lips. 

“Okay.” 

“Good little demon, thank you,” you cooed praise that made his face flush an even deeper red. “I’m going to suck your dick and then you’re gonna delete whatever record you have of me and we’re going to forget I was ever even here, alright?” 

When Hoseok didn’t speak, you squeezed the head of his cock. 

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes, alright,” he sputtered. 

“Good.” 

The bright side to all of this was that his dick didn’t look any different from any other dick you’d ever seen, although it did seem a bit long. Which was fine. You had hands, didn’t you? You knew how to do a little two-hand twist when needed. 

Just as you were about to slide off Hoseok’s lap and get on your knees, the door to his office flung open so hard it slammed against the wall. 

“Oh fuck,” Hoseok gulped. He quickly stuffed his cock back inside his pants and zipped his pants up with trembling fingers. 

“Oh fuck is right. What the fuck is going on here?” 

You turned to look over your shoulder at the person who owned such a smooth, sinister voice that dripped enough malice for you to drown in it. You felt your entire body grow cold when you were met with slitted eyes that glowed even more brightly than Hoseok’s. The eyes roamed your face, your body, your position still straddling Hoseok’s lap. And you did the same, your human eyes taking in the man’s black fitted suit, the swell of his thighs beneath the fabric, the pout of his lips, the craters his dimples made in his cheeks as he sucked on his teeth in seething anger. 

“I-I-I-I, Your Majesty,” Hoseok’s tongue fumbled over the words as he tried shoving you off of him. 

Oh shit, was this God? He was way too hot to be God. 

You stood when Hoseok did, the two of you blinking with your eyes wide and mouths hanging open like idiots in front of the sharply dressed man. Just past the doorway, you could see a few other men flanking the entrance, as though they were guarding it. 

“Don’t fucking call me Your Majesty while your cock is twitching in your pants, Hoseok. Have some decency,” the dimpled man chastised with a snort. 

Was God allowed to curse? You supposed he was, but multiple F-bombs and a casual “cock” thrown around seemed like a lot for a guy who was meant to be the holiest of the holy.

“And you.”

You poked your index finger against your chest when the man suddenly loomed over you. 

“Me?”

“You’re supposed to be with me.” 

You rose your eyebrows and shot Hoseok a look, but he had his eyes on the floor. 

“Oh… you’re not God…”

You felt fire lick and burn up your chest and across your throat when the man leaned his head back to bellow a laugh so deep you swore the walls moved just as they had for Hoseok when he walked. 

“Sweet of you to think so highly of the Devil, little human.” 

Aw, fuck. 

You were going to Hell.

“Now, listen, the One Direction serial killer AUs weren’t actually that bad. Like, if you’d just give it a chance, you’d understand,” you began. 

“Reasoning with me is futile, pet.” 

The sound of your teeth clamping shut echoed through the room. You probably should have been scared of how poisonous his tone sounded, but excitement thrummed in your stomach. 

No one had ever called you pet before. It was kind of cute. 

“Now, let’s go, shall we?” 

If Satan had a problem with the way you whimpered when he wrapped a smooth, tan hand around your bicep to haul you out of the room, he didn’t make any indication. If anything, you thought he squeezed you a bit tighter. 

“I didn’t think Satan would be so buff,” you murmured and you heard Hoseok choke. 

You’d all but forgotten about the guy. 

“Oh! Hoseokie!” You twisted your neck around to face him as Satan began leading you away. “Thanks for hanging out! I forgive you for being such a rule follower!” 

You turned up to look at Satan’s face which was a bit hard to do considering he was so tall and all legs and pecs that looked better than any boobs you’d ever seen. It was very distracting. 

“You’re not going to damn him to some horrible eternal punishment, are you?” 

“I think working here is punishment enough, don’t you?”  

It has gotten to a point where fingers just weren’t enough anymore. Your small hands paled in comparison to Yoongi’s long and slender fingers.

You wondered what they would feel like, holding you open, parting your folds and sinking deep inside of you up to the last knuckle.

You ordered your first sex toy as soon as those thoughts started keeping you up at night. At first you thought it would be a good idea to get a vibrator. All your friends excitedly talked about how they couldn’t get themselves off anymore without it. A vibrator sounded nice, but it wasn’t what you really wanted. You needed to be filled. Stuffed to the brim until your walls pulsed and you couldn’t take it anymore. You wanted to feel the burn and ache of having something split you open. You knew that what you truly craved was having a cock lodged deep inside of you.

So the plan of buying a vibrator was quickly thrown out the window and a dildo was smoothly added to your cart instead, checking out without as much as a second thought. You had been antsy all day. Biting the skin around your nails as you waited, looking out the window every few minutes for the delivery truck. And before you knew it, you found yourself sitting in bed with a cardboard box in your lap and a nervous turmoil in your tummy. Admittedly, you probably overestimated yourself. The silicone toy was big, sitting heavy in your palms. You had never taken something like this before. You didn’t even know if it’ll fit! The thought of struggling to slide the thick dildo up your pussy makes you lick your lips in anticipation. Within minutes you’re a panting and moaning mess, stubby fingers trembling as they scissor inside your weeping pussy, curling, but never quite hitting the spots that were sure to make you keen. The toy sits by your side on the crumbled bed sheets, antagonizing you. You knew you had to prep yourself before even thinking about taking it, but you were just too impatient. “Hmpf!” You exhale in frustration, pressing down on your clit to add even more wetness to the slickness that already had your fingers slipping.

You just wanted to be full. “Please…” You don’t know who or what you’re pleading for, but you sniffle pathetically as you raise up to your knees, grabbing the toy with shaky fingers. You have to grip it with both hands, mouth parting as you stare at it. It’s intimidating and you’re afraid it won’t fit, but the thought of getting to have something so huge inside you makes you clench around nothing. You can’t wait anymore. Sitting on your back had gotten uncomfortable. You didn’t feel like you were in control enough that way. Quickly looking around the room, you decide the floor will just have to do. The suction cup makes the dildo stand up ramrod straight in front of you, looking huge and intimidating.

You gulp at the sight.

Your knees ache against the wooden floor as you position yourself above the dildo, bulbous head catching onto your hole. You gasp, moving your hips back and forth so it would rub over your parted folds. A loud moan leaves you, and echoes around the room, before you can stop it. You’re dripping all over the toy, drooly cunt eager to take the huge fake cock already. You hated teasing yourself, but the way you deny yourself of the toy makes everything feel so much more…real.

In your head, this is exactly how things would go. You’d be a impatient, trembling mess, desperate to have your insides rearranged by Yoongi’s huge cock. You’d beg and cry and shake until you got your way, sugary sweet moans filling up the room as you got stuffed full just the way you craved. “Such a bad girl, Y/n. Riding your stepfather’s cock like this with no shame. You’re just desperate for it, aren’t you?” “Yes…” You exhale as you let your hips sink lower.

The intrusion makes you gasp, fingernails digging into your thighs as the rubbery head slides inside your slick hole. The relief of it is delicious, making you feel satiated to finally have something inside. “Ah!” You gasp, crying out when you sink down further, gummy walls taking too much at once. You ache and it burns, but in a way that stirs the fire inside your tummy. You barely just started and you already feel yourself teetering towards an orgasm. Closing your eyes, you breathe in deeply and let your mind wander. You think about hands on your body, bruising your sides, and gripping your tits forcefully, making you gasp at the rough way you’re being handled. You toy with your nipples as you slowly allow yourself to slip down another inch, breath getting caught in your throat.

“You love this, don’t you, sweetheart? Such a slut, want your pussy filled at all times. Stuffed to the brim until you can’t take it anymore.” “God, yes!” You cry out, a stammered sob escapes your mouth when you sink further down the dildo, walls pulsing deliciously around it. Your nipples hurt from the way you’re pinching them, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. You want to be roughed up, manhandled by forceful hands without a care, as if you’re nothing more than a rag doll. A good toy, so malleable for Yoongi to play with and do as he pleases. You wanted to be that for him. “Do it, baby, sit on my cock. Take what you want.”

With a drawn out moan, you fall down the rest of the length, your eyes that were previously closed snap open wide. Your mouth parts, stuttered gasps escaping through your parted lips as you struggle to breathe through the burn of your walls. Your so full it hurts, but it hurts so good. Your body leans forward, hands holding up your weight, trying to keep yourself upright. It aches and you don’t know if you can even move right now, but you will yourself to do it. Yoongi wouldn’t wait. He would use you as he pleases, pounding your little pussy until he knocked the breath out of you, leaving you crying and begging for more. You let your hips lift almost all the way off the dildo, before slamming back down, crying out at the rough intrusion. Your bottom lip trembles and your fingers cramp from how hard you’re trying to dig them into the ground. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

“Such a good slut, all mine to use and defile. What are you, Y/n? Tell daddy.” “I-I’m a slut!” You sob, hips stuttering as you start to desperately ride the toy, slick sounds filling up the quiet room. You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet, you’re gushing down the entire girth of the fake dick inside of you. The sounds your pussy makes has your cheeks burning up in shame. You’re desperately riding a cock that doesn’t even belong to the man you’re fantasizing about. How pathetic. You sniffle and whimper continuously as you bounce up and down the length, squeezing around it tightly. You think Yoongi would like that. He would tell you how good you are. How tight you feel around him and how well you’re taking it.

A good little whore for him to use. He would grunt out how you’re nothing more than a warm hole for him to sink his cock into. “P-please!” You cry out, throwing your head back. One of your hands grabs your breast as the other grips tightly onto your thigh, digging sharp lines onto the skin with your fingernails. “Cum on my cock, sweetheart. I know you want to.”

“Gonna c-cum!” you moan, frantically riding the toy, your hips move messily as it hits all the right spots inside of your pussy that makes your vision go white.

Too lost in your pleasure, you don’t hear the way the floor behind your bedroom door creaks. “Gonna cum for me, Y/n? Are you gonna cum all over your daddy’s dick like a good little girl?” “Yes!” You sob, knees aching and thighs burning as you feel yourself being thrown over the edge. You think about being filled with Yoongi’s cum. How it would shoot up inside of you hotly, leaking out the sides of your pussy, stuffing you to the brim. It’s with the thought of being deflowerd and with the name of your stepfather on your tongue that you finally cum, wetness splattering loudly around the dildo and down onto the floor. “Yoongi!” You sob, falling forward on the hard floor. Your whole body is shaking, dildo sadly sliding out of you, as you sob through your orgasm. Your front slams onto the ground, cheek squished against the wooden floor, ass raised up, leaving your walls pulsing around nothing. Through your stuttered cries, you don’t hear the door sliding open. Your mind is somewhere too far away to notice the footsteps that stop next to you until there’s a body crouching in front of you. Your hair gets pushed away from your face by fingers that aren’t yours. With a loud gasp, your head rises up, glazed over eyes meeting a pair of familiar black ones. The protagonist of your daydreams sits in front of you, holding nothing but lust inside his gaze as he eyes your trembling form. All you can do is watch as his tongue pokes out to skim over his bottom lip as he takes you in. Finally, a deep sigh escapes your stepfather, making every hair on your body stand up. “Quite the sight, aren’t you, baby?” Oh fuck.

The familiar nightmares return in full force. 

A voice calling you a bitch, a slut, a pathetic excuse of an omega. The hands that leave bruises in places that he knows you won’t show to outsiders. The demeaning comments. The constant surveillance and control of every little thing you do. But now all those terrible things come from a different source. Namjoon, Seokjin, Jungkook, all of the seven alphas you care for. You dream of their hands on you, beating you black and blue for all your wrongdoings. 

And still, you wake up with an apology on your lips.

You’re laid in fetal position, curled up as tightly as possible under a blanket that smells like Jungkook’s lilies. Your throat is scratchy and your eyes burn. You immediately glance around, relaxing when you realize both the bed—Namjoon’s bed—and the room are empty.

You wade through the makeshift nest the alphas made for you, which is more or less just an ocean of clothes, blankets, and pillows. You don’t have the habit of nesting, mostly because you’ve never had enough time or items to nest with. For you, a single blanket wrapped around you as tight as possible is enough security.

You take Jungkook’s blanket with you as you leave the room, staying wrapped up in it like you did with Hoseok’s earlier today, but the sentiment is completely different. Before, you wanted comfort. Now, you need it. 

The fight weighs on your mind, but the thought of Hoseok is even heavier. You imagine him alone in the basement, not knowing the outcome of the fight and all alone to deal with his rut. Your heart aches, wanting to go to him despite your better judgement. A part of you wants to go to him despite his refusal, wishing that his diminished resolve would mean he’d let you be with him for the entire cycle. But you know it’s wrong to use Hoseok’s altered state of mind against him, just like if you were to go into heat unexpectedly.

You sit at the base of the stairs, trying to take deep breaths. By now, it’s almost lunch time. You stare down the hallway, listening to the faint sounds of cooking coming from the kitchen. It’s almost lunch time now, so you’re sure the rest of the pack (minus Hoseok) are all there. Your chest feels tight. Even the small things that felt homely and peaceful now feel so intimidating again. It’s like you’re back to square one, but it’s even worse now. You feel naked with your biggest secret exposed.

They won’t hurt me. You try to reason with yourself.

You don’t know that. Your omega returns. Alphas always hurt omegas.

You bury your face in your legs, losing the fight against the tears prickling your eyes. Even smart-mouthed, passionate Namjoon is just an alpha. Even cheeky, doting Seokjin is just an alpha. Even gentle, sparkly-eyed Jungkook. All just alphas. And you know what alphas do when they’re angry.

Soft footsteps approach you. You jolt, immediately turning away from the source and wiping your tears. The man leans in and sets something down beside you, then straightens up in your peripheral. Warily, you eye the item on your left. A glass of water.

“Drink it.” 

Jimin leans against the stair rails, looking down at you with his arms folded over his chest. His dark brown eyes swim with worry.

“What?” You ask, not bothering to hide your dejection. “Here to tell me ‘I told you so’?”

“I didn’t want this to happen.” Jimin says plainly. His shoulders are tight, giving away his own inner tension. “I was just afraid it would.”

“And now it has.” You sigh, then take a swig of the water. A long pause. Then: “Why did you tell him you knew?”

“Because it’s the truth.” Jimin says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It doesn’t matter if it’s ugly or embarrassing. They deserve to know the truth.”

You take another long drink of water, until the glass is entirely empty. Physically, you feel much better. But you’re just as hollow on the inside. “What am I gonna do now? Where do I go?” You ask the glass cradled between your palms.

Jimin crouches in front of you, cupping your face gently. He guides your face to make you meet his eyes. “No matter how angry he is, our Alpha would never abandon you, Y/N.”

You smile self-deprecatingly. “Our? Wow, I really must be getting kicked out if you’re being nice to me.”

Jimin’s cheeks colour pink. “I said I didn’t like you. I never said you weren’t one of us.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’re really consistent, you know that?” You ask the alpha, sniffling. For the first time since you’ve met, Jimin smiles faintly at you. “Such a jerk.”

“Come on, let’s eat lunch.” Jimin says, taking your used glass and beginning to walk away. You stand still, hunger dying at the thought of going into a kitchen full of angry alphas. 

Jimin sighs, returning to you. The alpha is quiet, brown eyes swimming with concern as he looks down at you. The moment reminds you of the time Hoseok saw you in the garage on Jimin’s birthday and how he told you not to hide, giving you keys to their home the next time he saw you. Your heart ache deepens. Even though he had his reservations about you, Hoseok has always been so kind. You should be with him. You need to be with him now.

“You can’t go to him, you’re not strong enough.” Jimin says as if reading your mind. He puts a hand on the small of your back. You blink at him in surprise. “I know you’d rather it was him, but just make do with me for now.” He says, guiding you down the hall and into the kitchen. 

Maybe it’s the relative peace between you or still the stress talking, but you decide to voice your thoughts. 

“He won’t hit me that hard, right?” You ask. Jimin stops dead in his tracks. Oblivious, you continue walking. “I know it’s well within his rights to punish me for my wrongdoing, but I am sick. And I still have to finish the Love Maze project, I can’t risk missing too many days. Maybe I just have to be quiet and he’ll let me off easy.”

You make it to the entrance to the kitchen before you realize Jimin is still halfway down the hall. He stares at you, stunned. You blink, confused. 

“What are you doing out there? Come in.” Yoongi calls from the stove.

Five pairs of eyes fall on you as you and Jimin enter together. 

Seokjin and Yoongi look up from what they’re cooking as you walk in. Yoongi avoids your eyes. Seokjin just watches you with sadness. Taehyung scrubs dishes, not even turning around to look at you. Jungkook sits at his regular seat at the dining table, scrolling on his phone. He doesn’t look at you, but flinches at the sound of your chair scraping against the ground. You take your place at the end of the table. You observe the youngest alpha’s face. It’s clear as day that he has been crying. And finally, Namjoon looks up at you from the head of the table, face stoic and unreadable. 

Jimin takes his usual seat on Jungkook’s other side, bouncing one leg anxiously. 

“Jungkook, bring Y/N’s chair up here, please.” Namjoon addresses the younger alpha in a calm, collected voice. You blink, watching on as Jungkook stands robotically, bringing your chair over to the opposite end of the table. The head alpha looks at you expectantly. You swallow, then take your spot next to him. Namjoon turns his attention to Seokjin across the room. “Hyung, can you bring Y/N’s meds, please?”

For the first time since you’ve met him, Seokjin looks like a deer in headlights. He blushes, glancing back and forth between you and the head alpha. “He doesn’t know where they are.” You explain quietly. 

Namjoon’s shoulders stiffen. He turns to you. “Don’t you need them to eat? I’ll go get them if you tell me where they are.”

You shake your head, still avoiding the alpha’s eyes. “I don’t necessarily need them all the time. Especially if I’ve been scented recently…” You trail off. They can all smell Jungkook’s sweet lily scent on you. 

Namjoon nods in understanding. Silence stretches between you, the only noise in the room being the quiet clink of utensils as Seokjin and Yoongi wrap up making lunch. Soon, the food is served. Head Alpha first, of course.

You wonder why you’re still sitting at Namjoon’s side when the alpha picks up his own chopsticks and offers you the first bite of his food. You accept without looking up. You want to tell the head alpha that you’re not a child, but the lingering fear makes you hold your tongue. Maybe this is how he does it? He dotes on them first, punishes them after.

Despite your churning anxiety, you manage to eat well. Namjoon holds a glass of water to your lips, not letting you move a muscle even at the end of the meal. “Thanks for the meal, hyungs.” He directs to the two eldest alphas, who exchange a nervous look. From what you’ve observed, please and thank-you’s are limited in the pack. It feels oddly formal. “Has anyone delivered lunch and supplies to Hoseok?”

“I did.” Yoongi says in the smallest voice you’ve ever heard from him.

Namjoon nods, standing. Everyone seems to follow his train of thought in washing their hands and making their way to the living room. The food you just ate threatens to come back up. Is it now?

You follow begrudgingly. You notice the alphas are spread out around Namjoon, as if keeping a polite distance from each other. Seokjin and Jimin in particular stay the furthest away. Realizing there’s nowhere else to go, you perch on the spot right next to Namjoon. “How was lunch today?” Namjoon asks in a soft voice. You flinch as he caresses the back of your head. 

“It was good. Thank you.” You mumble.

“Y/N, look at me.” Namjoon says. You turn to face him nervously. To your surprise, Namjoon pulls you into his side. You sigh softly as you lean into the alpha’s soft, sweater-clad chest. He guides you to rest your head on his shoulder, face dangerously close to his scent glands. You blush. “I was too rough with your punishment, wasn’t I? I’m sorry. I was too deep in my own feelings.”

Namjoon leans against the arm rest of the sofa, letting you sit on his lap sideways. You rest your back against the back of the sofa, hands planted on the head alpha’s chest. Despite you being on top of him, he looks at ease. “That was punishment?” You ask.

Namjoon frowns. “Of course. Submission, accountability, and reinforcing rank. In that order, those are the three steps of punishment. Hasn’t Jungkook explained that to you?”

In the corner, Jungkook avoids everyone’s eyes. Something dawns on Namjoon. “You didn’t know what I was doing.” He breathes, eyes widening. “That’s why you thought I was going to…” Lay my hands on you. Your mind completes. 

Tugging you into a fierce hug, Namjoon holds you close to him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it was like that. I’m sorry.” He repeats, rocking you gently like a scared puppy.

He holds you at arms length, blinking back tears. “When I heard that our omega had been sick to the point of hospitalization in our care and I was none the wiser, I was so angry and worried that I couldn’t help myself. I felt I needed to control everything in order to set things straight. I was wrong. Regardless of this bite or our relationship, you’re a person, not something to own. I can’t demand things from you without earning the right to them first. Naturally, you don’t have to see us as your alphas either; that’s my own selfish desire.”

Sniffling, Namjoon cups your face. “You said you wanted to go home, right? We’ll arrange it for you.”

You glance at Jimin, who frowns at the scene. You told me he wouldn’t abandon me. “What do you want in return?”

“The truth. Even if it’s ugly or embarrassing, I have to hear it from you.” Namjoon answers firmly. Unshed tears shine in his eyes. Then, he takes a deep, shaky breath. “Was it me that sent you to the hospital? Did I ask too much from your body that night and hurt you?”

You’re stunned that the alpha even thought such a thing. You shake your head. “No, those two things weren't related. I…My health has been so-so for a long time, although it only got this bad recently.” 

“Tell me, please.” Namjoon urges.

You sigh. “After I finished high school, I got into SNU.” You start your story. Namjoon nods. You avert your eyes. “I wanted to succeed no matter what and having heats would get in the way of what I wanted. So I started taking blockers to make my life easier, but then I couldn’t afford time off between uni and my part-time jobs to have a breakthrough heat. When I graduated, it was even worse because I started working full time. I kept taking blockers even though I knew it was bad for me, and now my body is suffering the consequences. My doctor forced me to stop taking them and now I have no choice but to wait until I can have a heat.”

Namjoon knits his eyebrows together, trying to make sense of your story. “But all universities and workplaces are required to provide heat and rut leave by law.” He replies.

You smile faintly at his naivety. Of course an alpha wouldn’t understand. “Yes, by law. But the truth is that most people don’t treat omega’s heats and alpha’s ruts the same way. Whenever omegas take heat leaves, people complain that they’re free-loading or misusing social services. They ask why we don’t just take heat blockers, or quit our jobs and get married to avoid bothering our co-workers. They hate us and look down on us just for existing, asking them to accommodate me is like putting a target on my own back.”

Your shoulders sink as you talk, memories of your old job returning to you. For a long time, no one ever suspected anything because you pretended to be a beta at work. But because you never said it outright, people slowly turned their suspicions on you. Even though you never even confirmed your status to anyone, your silence was enough to doom you. 

You recall the book Namjoon was reading in the study a while ago. To him, omegas’ oppression is an area of curiosity, a completely different world. To you, it’s your everyday life. Especially in a competitive industry. 

“So you chose your career over your health.” Namjoon summarizes.

You nod. You grip the material of your pants tightly. “I ignored so many symptoms and put up with being overworked and underpaid for so long just to be promoted. But they ignored me. They gave it to someone less deserving than me. All because I didn’t have connections and because I was an omega. It was my breaking point, so I quit.”

Namjoon looks surprised. “You quit?”

You sniffle. “I did. I blew my money on a trip to Vegas thinking it would be my one chance to feel free. But my fucking hormones took over me and I ended up with this fucking bite.” You seethe. You make the mistake of meeting Jungkook’s eyes then. The alpha looks truly upset. You look away. “I really thought of it as an unlucky mistake and tried to run from it. When I first met you, I told you I didn't want anything from you and I meant it. But you all thought I was a gold digger.”

Namjoon flinches at the words, but he doesn’t deny them. “We’ve been wrong about everything. I want to apologize to you, but I don’t know if it even means anything now. A mate has been our biggest dream for a long time, someone to cherish and spoil. I thought we were a little clumsy, just a bunch of jaded alphas that would get better with time. But we’ve clearly only gotten worse.” The remaining five alphas hang their heads in shame. Even Jimin.

“You’ve been mean to me.” You admit quietly. Tears roll down Namjoon’s cheeks. He nods without looking at you. “I have struggled these past few months. But it hasn’t been all bad. I’ve cried a lot, but I’ve laughed and felt happy, too. It’s hard to explain what I feel, but I don’t want to leave here.”

“No?” Namjoon echoes like he can hardly believe it. “You don’t have to be afraid of us. If…If you want to leave we can make arrangements for you. A new apartment, a new job. As long as you let us provide it, we’ll fulfill our obligations as alphas from a distance.”

“Why would she do that?” Jimin speaks up finally. Namjoon frowns, displeased at the younger alpha for cutting in. Jimin crosses his arms over his chest. “For heaven’s sake, use your brain, hyung. Look how hard she works for Seokjin-hyung. Look how she wears Jungkook’s ring every single day, even when she’s mad at us. Look at her, don’t just keep making guesses that don’t make any sense. She obviously likes you.”

Namjoon looks a little petulant, pouting as he looks at you now. A small smile blooms on your lips. “He’s got a point…”

Jungkook scoffs from the corner. “Since when are you and Y/N so close?” He glares at Jimin, who rolls his eyes in response.

“Someone around here has to have both the eyeballs and metaphorical balls to put the truth out there.” Jimin says sassilly. “Seokjin-hyung, Yoongi-hyung, and Hoseok-hyung are all able to clue in but are not brave enough to rock the boat. Namjoon-hyung, Taehyung, and you are all brave enough but clueless. There’s only so long I can wait for you idiots to pull yourselves together.”

“Thank you for enlightening us, wise sage.” Seokjin scoffs. 

“Would’ve helped if you said something several months ago.” Yoongi adds.

“Yeah, why the fuck are you only saying something now?” Jungkook asks irritatedly.

“Because it’s your job Jungkook-ah!” Jimin snaps. 

“How can I say what I don’t know?!” Jungkook says with wide eyes, looking wronged. When Jimin continues staring daggers into him, Jungkook blushes. “What? You know I’m bad with words!”

“We know that, she doesn’t.” Jimin corrects. Then, he rubs his temples. “If we’re done being annoying and sentimental here, I need a painkiller. You’re all giving me a headache.”

The four alphas gape in unison, unable to believe Jimin is excusing himself from such an important moment. Then, in the doorway, Jimin turns back. “Don’t give me that stupid look. Scent her already, she’s fucking sour! For fuck’s sake. Couldn’t make a dumber pack of alphas if I tried.” He adds, grumbling to himself as he leaves.

Namjoon gives you a sheepish smile. You lean into his chest, allowing the alpha to nuzzle his chin into your hair. You sigh as the sofa sinks around you, with Seokjin, Yoongi, and Jungkook unceremoniously piling in. 

“This is kind of uncomfortable.” Seokjin says, holding you from behind. Yoongi, on top of Seokjin like a cat, seems content however. Jungkook chuckles at all of you, then leans in to put your forehead to his. The five of you cuddle like that, swapping scents in a way you’ve never done before, but a way which soothes your wolf and your mind.

“What?” your friend immediately quirks her eyebrow at you. 

“Do I want to know what kind of message just made you go all nervous?” her girlfriend chimes in as well.

“It was Jungkook texting, wasn’t it?”

You told them all about the little sexy adventure you had on your way here, even sharing the topless pictures you took of him in front of your Buick. Honestly, you were bragging. Jungkook is quite the catch after all. 

Ever since you went on your way and arrived at your friend’s, you texted a little bit here and there. Nothing grand, no long conversations. You let him know once you made it here, as you promised, and sent him the picture of you with his cum on your face. That photo you kept to yourself though. The same way you won’t share what you just received because even at first glance you saw something very explicit. 

Jungkook knows your stay is coming to an end, you also told him that you found a new place to be closer to your old home town, but you still have to return once to pack up all your stuff for the move. He even offered to help you. You declined, which now thinking about it, you might come to regret. You amassed quite the amount of stuff over the years and you have to get all of it to your new apartment somehow. And it’s on the third floor. Hopefully the elevator works when you arrive - they are always notoriously out of order right when you need them the most.

“You gotta meet up with him on your way back. I’m begging you,” your friend eggs you on, seemingly more excited about your endeavours than you are yourself. 

You did plan to stop by his shop anyway, it was actually the topic when you last texted a few days ago. Guess he’s trying to make sure you really keep your word by reminding you of his body. 

Once you’re done helping with the dishes and you retreat back to your room, you scramble to get out your phone the second the door falls shut behind you. He didn’t even set it to a one-time-view, this freak. Lucky for you, since you didn’t get a good look at the dinner table.

Walking over to your bed, you swipe to your messages with Jungkook and click open the picture. Getting comfortable, on your stomach, cheek squished into your pillow, your eyes scan over his naked body. 

He’s sprawled on the side of the bed, legs spread and feet planted on the floor, leaning up on his elbows. His hard dick glistens in the dim, warm light in the room, as if it’s covered in spit. It makes your own mouth water. You are too busy staring at him looking up into the camera through his eyelashes, dark sweaty strands of hair sticking to his forehead, to even take in his surroundings. Who can blame you though? With the way his flexed abs are throwing shadows and that damn cocky smirk plastered on his face. You roll onto your back and are just about to slip your hand into your pants when your eyes catch on a detail you haven’t noticed before. Behind Jungkook, there’s a mirror above a dresser against the wall. In the reflection, a naked upper body and some long blonde hair is visible, with a hand holding up a phone. Judging by the arm, you assume it’s a guy. Of course, you should have grasped that someone must have taken the picture of Jungkook - but your brain was clouded by horniness apparently.

You scoff to yourself, pulling your hand away from your waistband again and go back to the chat, thinking back to the poster on the workshop wall with the little toy cars. Huh. 

Y: Say hi to Jimin for me I guess? JK: Good eye ;) JK: Jimin says hi back Y: you almost flashed my friends btw JK: oops

They must be real good friends if they take nudes of each other, dick hard and all. You don’t think that’s a line you’d ever cross with even your bestest of girlfriends. To be fair you also didn’t think you’d ever fuck a random mechanic the way you did.

Deciding to abandon your plans to masturbate, you just take a quick shower and ask your friends if they want to watch a movie. 

Later, when you’re in bed, wrapped up in your blanket, ready to scroll a bit on your phone, you consider sending Jungkook a naughty photo back, but just as you’re concluding your thought, another message pops up.

It’s a selfie this time, picturing both Jungkook and Jimin, reminding you that Jungkook is not alone and you’re glad you didn’t just thoughtlessly send him a pic of your tits. “Sweet dreams” is the text attached to the selfie.  And oh, the sweet dreams you do have. When you wake up in the morning, your panties are damp.

Two nights later, it’s close to 1 am and you’re just tossing and turning, not able to fall asleep for unknown reasons, your phone vibrates on your bedside table. You groan as you unlock the screen, blinded by the brightness you forgot to turn down. 

JK: Are you still up

Oh, it’s Jungkook again. You were wondering who’s awake at this hour of the night on a week day. 

Y: yeah, can’t sleep JK: me neither JK: what’s keeping you up? Y: wish I knew. how about you? JK: just thinkin about some things Y: want to talk about it? JK: no it’s not a big deal. but thanks Y: Jimin’s asleep? JK: staying with his sister tonight. JK: why, wanted to see more of him? ;)

Man, this dude. That’s not what you were implying at all. Where has the gentleman gone that you met a few weeks back? Considering sleep seems to be out of the question anyway, you decide to play a little and indulge him.

Y: no, but i’d love to see more of you actually JK: gave you an appetite with that pic, huh? Y: only a little

The next message that pops up is a dimly lit selfie of Jungkook, topless in his bed with tousled hair. You return the favor, pulling up the t-shirt you’re wearing and snap a picture of your bare tits, pressed together. 

Y: too bad you’re not here Y: i think i could easily get your mind off of things JK: you’re pretty sure of yourself Y: yeah my mouth usually works wonders in that department JK: shit JK: you have any idea what you’re doing to me?

You giggle, happy to have enticed the reaction you intended to get out of him.

Y: hm no idea what you mean

Jungkook sends a picture of his hard dick straining against his tight boxers without further comment that has your hand wandering south, leaving you to continue texting one-handed. 

Y: you’re so easy to rile up JK: dont act like you don’t have your hand down your panties

Well, spot on.

Y: caught me one-handed JK: oh? i just took a shot in the dark JK: did you think about me when you touched yourself in the past weeks too? Y: wouldnt you like to know? JK: in detail Y: yes I did Y: a lot JK: naughty Y: liked your fingers on me more JK: you’d have more than my fingers on you if I were with you rn Y: really? elaborate JK: i’d eat your pussy until i have you screaming on my face JK: miss your taste JK: i’m so fucking hard thinking about you Y: you’d fuck me so good if you were here Y: i’m so wet i could take you so easily rn JK: such a good girl JK: are you making youeself cum thinkin of my cock inside of you?+ Y: yeha  close already Y: wish ikt was your cock inside of me stead of my fin gers JK: wanna hear you

In the haze of your orgasm rapidly approaching, you hit the voice record button with your free hand and let go, softly moaning and whimpering as your high rushes through you and your legs start to tremble. You have to remind yourself that you’re not alone in this house, so you have to somewhat stifle your high-pitched noises, but they’re still audible enough to be picked up by your phone's microphone. 

A few moments pass before the next message pops up. You were out of it anyway, catching your breath.

JK: fuck

After another pause, you receive a short shaky video of Jungkook jerking off and shooting his load all over his abs up to his chest. 

JK: thank you Y: what for? couldn’t even lend you a hand :( JK: for successfully takin my mind off things and stuff Y: you’re very welcome Y: thank you too. i think i’ll have no trouble sleeping now JK: stop by when you’re on your way back JK: jimin wants to meet you too.

You huff a laugh into the arm that’s thrown over your face, your other hand still resting on your contently throbbing pussy. Within minutes, you drift off into a peaceful slumber, like a baby.

The rest of your stay goes by too quickly, you already miss your friend and you’re not even gone yet. You can’t wait for the move to be done so you can hop by more often. What you’ve been looking forward to though as the days ticked by was the planned stop on your way back. Jungkook seems to be eager to see you again too, judging by the amount of times he reminded you via text. As if you’d ever forget about that. 

Just as you’re getting ready for your last night at your friend’s, another message from Jungkook comes in.

JK: when will you be here tomorrow? Y: around noon :) JK: good

You go to lock your phone again when a picture pops up. It’s another nude, but this time it’s just a close-up of his hard dick. The hand wrapped around it is way too small to be his own though. Admittedly, it makes you a little giddy that he’s so eager to see you again even when he obviously has someone … looking after him.

Y: chill, i said i’m coming by JK: just thought i’d make sure JK: drive safe <3

The next morning you have a final breakfast with your two temporary roommates and they help you pack your stuff into your car. With one last embrace they send you off and you shoot Jungkook a quick text to let him know you are on your way before switching on your engine. 

Two hours and a few playlists later you pull into the parking lot behind Jungkook’s repair shop, the excitement buzzing through your veins as you get out of the driver’s seat. 

The second you slam the door shut, the one on the back of the garage swings open and before you can even get a good look at the person coming up to you with fast steps, you are already being pressed against their chest by a hug.

“Um, hi,” you laugh into the person’s shoulder. “Jimin, I assume?”

So he’s a touchy one, then.

“So happy to meet you,” Jimin says as he releases you from his arms. “Heard so many good things about you.” The smirk on his face and the glint in his eyes tells you exactly what kind of things Jungkook told him.

“Hey,” Jungkook's voice sounds softly from behind Jimin. He steps around to greet you as well with a one-armed hug and a quick kiss to your temple. “Had a good drive?”

It seems like you’re not entering the shop, since Jungkook has car keys dangling from his fingers. “You hungry?” he asks. “Thought we could get some takeaway and head to a nice spot out in the fields to have a picnic.”

The only other vehicle in the parking lot is a big 2-doored Chevrolet pick-up. He really is a country boy, huh? Jungkook huffs a laugh. “Can’t drive both of you around on my bike. And Jimin likes to chill in the truck bed.”

Jimin opens the door for you and with the help of a little step you climb into the passenger seat with him following you inside. The car is gigantic, so there’s more than enough room for all three of you in the front. It’s only a short drive before Jungkook parks in front of the diner you had breakfast at a few weeks back. He lends Jimin and you a hand to hop out of the truck before putting his arms over both your shoulders walking up to the entrance like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You laugh a little to yourself, at the way he’s acting like he’s parading the two of you around, as if you’ve always been a trio. Nevermind that you met Jimin like ten minutes ago. At least there’s no chance for you to feel awkward, instead a comfortable feeling of familiarity is spreading through you. That’s a first for a booty call, which this still is after all.

The bell above the door makes Jean turn around behind the counter, her face immediately lit up with a big smile as she sees you walk in.

Jimin leans over the bar to let the waitress kiss him on the cheek. 

“Oh, sweetie,” she beams at you when Jungkook and you step up as well. “Good to see you again.”

“Hi, Jean,” you return the smile and take a seat on one of the bar stools. 

Jungkook orders some fries and sandwiches to go, letting Jean know that you’re going on a ride to eat outside somewhere.

“You,” she sternly looks at Jungkook. “Don’t drive around all fast with her in your truck.”

You take a moment to eye the two men as they talk to lovely Jean, waiting for the food.

Jimin is equally as hot as Jungkook, even if it’s in a totally different way. He’s shorter and slimmer, but his loose shirt with cut-off sleeves shows off some pretty muscular arms. There’s also a few tattoos scattered around them and you can see one on his back peeking out from the neckline of his top. The blue jeans he’s wearing are hanging low on his hips and because the shirt is slightly cropped, a sliver of skin is revealed any time he moves. His straw blonde hair reaches a bit beyond his shoulders and it’s messy in the best way possible as it sways around his face, half of it done up in a little ponytail. Jungkook is in a tight black tank and some jeans, giving you a good reminder of his physique. Both of them have chains and necklaces dangling around their necks. 

You’re absentmindedly nibbling on your lower lip when they turn away from the counter and back to you, paper bags in hand. 

“Let’s go have lunch,” Jungkook announces and puts his arm around your waist to lead you out of the diner. You can feel the gaze of some other patrons follow you when you leave, Jungkook on your left, Jimin reaching for your hand on your other side.

Strolling back to the truck sandwiched between the two, there are more stares directed your way from pedestrians and some people in front of a grocery store across the street.

Jimin must feel you tense up under their judgy gaze because he pulls you aside as Jungkook climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Pay no mind to those fucking rednecks,” he whispers, squeezing your hand, before letting you hop up into the passenger seat. Once Jimin’s inside as well, the truck roars to life.

Jungkook puts his arm behind your head while Jimin connects his phone to the car’s stereo. 

“Ah, that’s fitting,” he hums as the beginning of some pop-punky A Day to Remember song starts playing. You faintly remember it being about hating your hometown. This must be some relic from their younger days, because they are both singing along loudly to every single word. 

You join them, knowing the lyrics by the third chorus, while Jimin literally screams the words out of the lowered window, as if to tell the people living here to fuck off. 

Jungkook glances over for a second and smiles at Jimin as he sings along as well, the hand on the backrest behind you caressing your shoulder while he steers the truck down some country roads with his other.

A few miles later he turns into a straight up dirt road, driving between corn fields until you finally arrive at a clearing with a few trees and grass instead of crops. It’s on a little hill and you can look down on the town you just left behind a few minutes back. 

“Let’s eat in the back,” Jungkook proposes as he pulls the handbrake. You all file out of the cabin and Jimin hops into the truck bed like he’s done it a million times before. 

“Step on the tire,” Jungkook comes up behind you and puts his hands on your waist. With one foot on the rubber you push off the ground. Jungkook gives you some extra lift and you gain enough momentum to swing your leg over the side panels. Jimin is already digging through the metal box that’s installed against the cabin, pulling out blankets and pillows to sit on. 

He drops down and leans against the box as Jungkooks climbs into the truck bed as well with the greasy paper bag in his hand. You sit down against the side panel with Jungkook next to you and he places the spread of diner food on the blanket for all of you to share. 

“Dig in,” he says and reaches for a crispy fry. 

“Hey,” Jimin pouts. “Don’t take all the crunchy ones again!”

Jungkook shakes his head but then leans over your lap and shoves a fry dipped in ketchup in Jimin’s mouth, who hums with a pleased grin as he chews on the potato.

With the food finished off and everyone’s bellies sated, you stretch out your legs and lounge around for a bit. Jungkook’s stroking your thigh as you soak in the afternoon sun.

“So is this like, your spot?” you ask, head leaned back.

“No,” Jimin responds, unfolding his legs from the criss-cross and wiggling his naked toes. “Jungkook just chose the most scenic one for you. You can get a really good look down at the shithole from here.”

“I mean, it looks nice,” you muse, turning your head to take in the view. “Anyway, what’s with all the staring earlier?”

Jungkook scoffs next to you. “Fucking hillbillies…”

“Ah, don’t worry, they weren’t looking at you,” Jimin explains. “It’s me. They’ve always stared.”

Because he’s so pretty? Because he’s hot as fuck? You’re going over the possibilities in your head. 

“Yeah, school bullies turned adult assholes,” Jungkook grits out, looking genuinely pissed.

“They used to bully you?”

“Oh hell yeah,” Jimin tells you with one corner of his mouth upturned. “Used to gang up on me, shoving me into lockers, locked me in the toilets. Spit on me, called me all kinds of names. Gay was always their favorite.”

Of course it was. Shitheads.

“That’s horrible, I’m so sorry,” you say and sit back up straight. 

“You don’t want to know how many of them I later met in queer clubs in the city. Couldn’t even look me in the eye. And then they still have the audacity to whisper about me back here like I haven’t seen them rub up on some guy.”

“That must have been scary back at school, I imagine.”

Jungkook’s grip that has tightened on your leg loosens up a bit again as he speaks up.

“You know, Jimin actually never acted scared. Always kept a straight face. Kinda insane, thinking back.”

“Well I wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction,” Jimin shrugs. “Jungkook was the one always crying when they bullied me and he intervened.” He’s chuckling when he continues. “Broke quite a few noses with tears running down his face.”

“Hey man, don’t put my business out like that,” Jungkook scolds him and slaps his leg. 

“What?” Jimin smiles. “I always thought it was cute you were such a crybaby. And they were still scared of you. Still are, probably.”

Jimin’s leaning over you to touch Jungkook's bicep. “Honestly, I think he only got so buff to protect me.”

You also reach for his muscles then and Jungkook flexes his arm for you, chuckling. 

“You don’t exactly look weak yourself,” you add, eyeing Jimin’s body. 

“Oh, yeah, but that’s just for aesthetics,” he laughs and lifts his arms, posing. 

Well, that’s a pretty good show you’re getting right about now. You start to feel a little hot, wedged between two men with bodies like Greek gods. Instantly, some guilt makes its way to your head, for being horny while Jimin is dropping his childhood trauma. 

“Anyways, they stopped trying to beat me up eventually, but they still love to stare and talk shit,” Jimin concludes.

“I could tell. Does it not bother you?” you ask him.

“Used to,” Jimin lets you know while rummaging through Jungkook’s backpack. He’s basically in your lap as he’s digging through it, having leaned all the way over both you and Jungkook to find whatever he’s looking for. “That’s why I moved the second I turned 18. Begged JK to come with me, leave those rednecks behind but you know, the garage and stuff.”

“Jimin’s tougher than he looks,” Jungkook says with a smile, one arm around your shoulder at this point. With his free hand, he reaches out to put a strand of Jimin’s blonde hair behind his ear gently. “It still pisses me off the way they stare. He’s always like, nevermind, but I just can’t be above it like he is. Pretty sure that’s how he survived school.”

Jimin comes up again, sitting back on his heels. 

“No, I survived because I had you.”

He’s holding up a spliff, waving it around, distracting you from how their story’s tugging on your heartstrings like crazy. You reach up and grab Jungkook’s hand that’s hanging off your shoulder and give it a squeeze, glad that they have each other. Looks like their bond hasn’t wavered, even with Jimin moving to the city.

“Light it up for me, would you?” Jimin says and sticks the joint between Jungkook’s lips, who pulls out a lighter, taking only one drag to make it burn before just holding it in the corner of his mouth, while Jimin shrugs out of his tank top. With the shirt cast aside, he plucks the spliff from Jungkook and lays down with a pillow under his head and his legs crossed. He’s blowing smoke rings towards the sky as Jungkook pulls your legs into his lap, holding you by your waist. He cradles your face with his other hand and leans in for a kiss. With Jimin right next to you, you don’t really plan to go for a full make out, feeling a little shy, but when he licks across your lips, you can’t resist opening up and letting the kiss deepen. 

You’ve almost forgotten where you are when Jimin’s chin is suddenly on your shoulder. He giggles when you jump slightly, being startled back to reality. 

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” he chuckles. “Just thought you might want some weed.” Jimin’s holding the joint up to your mouth so you can take a drag. You inhale deeply and turn your face to the side to blow the smoke away from Jungkook’s face, figuring he won’t be taking part since he’s the designated driver. 

“Good girl,” Jimin coos. Oh, haven’t you heard that one before? Jungkook just smirks as he watches your eyes widen a little.

Jimin then continues to alternate the spliff between you and himself while you’re halfway in Jungkook’s lap and your back is flush against Jimin’s naked chest. You’re wearing a sleeveless dress, so your skin sticks to his when he finally peels away from you and instead sits across you and Jungkook, flicking the roach over the side panel.

Shit, this is some quality weed. You can already feel the haze lulling you into a state of relaxation. Sweet. 

Jungkook gently lifts your legs from his lap and makes you sit between his spread thighs.

“You good?” he mouths against your neck. 

You nod, leaning back. “Mmh, very.”

Jimin has his arms propped up on the railing behind him, spreading them out and giving you a good view of his upper body. There’s a quite big tattoo across his ribs - it reads nevermind.

He watches you ogling him with a smirk, eyelids a bit heavy from the weed. 

“You like the tattoo?” Jungkook speaks up softly from behind you.

Yeah. The tattoo. You were definitely just looking at the tattoo.

Jimin runs his hand down his chest and over the lettering. “Got it a few years back. Just a lil reminder for myself.” He then reaches up and loosens the hair tie that’s holding his locks up in a half-bun, shaking his head and letting his hair fall down on his shoulders. It’s so pretty.

“Do you ever do braids?” you ask him, watching him twirl a strand between his fingers. 

“Tried making JK do them for me, cause I get confused in the mirror,” he chuckles. “But he can’t figure it out. Always turned out a mess.”

“Hey, I gave it my best shot!”

“I know,” Jimin laughs. “That makes it even worse!”

“I can braid ‘em for you,” you offer and Jimin’s eyes light up. 

“Told you we need a woman in our lives,” he huffs at Jungkook while scooting up to sit between your legs, back turned towards you.

He tilts his head back, giving you access to his hair. You run your fingers through it, it’s a little fried from bleaching, but you manage to untangle it enough to separate it into sections. With him right in front of your face, the scent of wildflowers fills your nostrils, making you lean in and stick your nose into his hair which makes him giggle. 

With skilled fingers, you create three rows of braids on the top of his head, leaving the ends to blend into the rest of his hair. 

Jungkook starts kissing along your neck as you are finishing up the last braid, making you shiver under the touch of his soft lips. With slightly shaky hands you tie off the hair and Jimin turns his body to let you look at the final product.

He looks like a fucking elven prince even more now. It’s almost devastating.

“Pretty,” Jungkook hums, detaching his mouth from you to compliment your work - or Jimin, you are not sure. 

You run your fingers through his hair once more, just to make the braids blend better and Jimin melts into your hand. When you let your nails gently scrape against his scalp, he groans quietly and presses his back against your tits.

“He loves having his hair played with,” Jungkook lets you know and reaches over to tangle his fingers in it alongside yours, eliciting more quiet groans as Jimin's head pushes back against your hands. 

Then he suddenly sits up, moving away from you on his knees, adjusting his jeans on the way. 

He turns towards Jungkook and you with a glint in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “Let’s head to our spot by the old water towers, hm?”

Jungkook huffs a quiet laugh behind you. “Sure,” he agrees and then climbs out from behind you, proceeding to hop off the truck bed. 

He looks up and into Jimin’s direction. “Behave,” he tells him with a raised eyebrow.

Jimin chuckles and looks at you with exaggerated puppy eyes, blinking his lashes all innocently.

“Don’t be fooled by his looks,” Jungkook scoffs. “He’s definitely no angel.”

“That’s why you love me so much though,” Jimin snickers.

With that, he walks to the front of the truck and gets in the driver’s seat, starting up the engine. 

You feel almost cold now that you’re not sandwiched between warm bodies, so you pull your legs into a criss-cross position and drape the dress over your knees. Jimin's rifling through Jungkook’s bag again, fishing out a lollipop from one of the hidden compartments. He unwraps it and plops it into his mouth, looking straight into your eyes as he plays around with it, puckering his lips and letting his tongue run over the candy, tinting it red. 

Being so occupied with watching Jimin, you lose your balance when the truck starts rolling, and almost fall over. You’d have faceplanted into the truckbed if Jimin hadn’t caught you by your arm. “Careful, babe,” he laughs, his hand still lingering on your skin.  He holds your gaze for a moment before his eyes flicker down, first to your mouth, then further to your cleavage, cheeks hollowing around the lollipop. With his index finger, he pushes the strap of your dress back up your shoulder. Huh. It must have fallen down when you toppled over. 

Jimin’s fingers dance over your skin, making their way to your neck where he lets them tap up slowly until they reach your jaw. Your eyelids are about to fall shut when his touch is suddenly gone, leaving you flustered and placing your hand where his just was. 

Jimin returns into your line of vision with another pre-rolled joint. He plucks the sucker from his mouth, replacing it with the spliff that’s now dangling from the corner of his mouth.

Coming closer, he pats your cheek and holds the lollipop up to your mouth. Without thinking about it, you open up and close your lips around the plastic stem. Mh, cherry. 

He scoots over to sit next to you against the side panel, his outstretched leg and naked shoulder bumping into you as he lifts the lighter up to his face, igniting the joint. The initial inhale is deep and he coughs a little as the smoke comes back out in bursts, so you instinctively reach out. You'd rub his back, but it’s against the railing still, so your hand lands on his chest instead. It only takes Jimin a second to recover, so you let your palm slide down to retrieve it, but when your finger catches on his nipple on the way, he huffs out a small sound and catches your hand in his before you can pull away, holding it in place for a moment before letting go again. 

You start to believe Jungkook's warning at this point but find yourself not minding at all. Quite the opposite, as your eyes fall to Jimin's plump lips, all cherry red from the lollipop and oh so inviting, taking a few more deep drags.

As if reading your mind, Jimin pulls the lollipop out of your mouth and cradles your face with his hand, holding the candy in his fingers like a cigarette. He places a soft kiss just on the corner of your mouth before putting the joint between your lips with his other hand. With the lolly back in, he leans back again and his palm lands on your thigh, pulling up the fabric of your dress a little further with each small stroke until his fingers are splayed on your bare skin. 

You finish off the rest of the spliff with Jimin’s hand caressing you while his lips turn redder as the lollipop dissolves. At some point your legs must have uncrossed without you even noticing, because the leg against Jimin is now propped up, leaning into his touch as his fingers wander dangerously high on your inner thigh.

The truck is rumbling as Jungkook drives you through fields, the gravelly roads slightly bumpy and absolutely vacant, there’s not a soul in sight for miles. All you see is rows of corn and grain when you look up as you discard the roach. Jimin places the almost finished lollipop into the paper bag with the greasy leftovers the second you’re finished with the spliff and immediately gets close to you again. His face hovers in front of yours for a moment, his free hand tangling into the hair at the nape of your neck. It’s like he’s checking for any objection and when there’s none whatsoever, he closes the distance and his delicious mouth is finally on yours. You feel totally engulfed by him, smelling like a field of flowers and tasting like cherry, his lips slotting with yours, one hand in your hair and the other making its way to the edge of your underwear, nestled where your thigh meets your pussy. Your legs spread further on instinct as his fingertips run across the soft skin there. With your own hands holding on to his shoulders, you tilt your head and give him access to let his tongue separate your lips. 

You’re so impatient, a knot in your abdomen already forming, it feels like forever until Jimin’s fingers finally slide underneath your panties. When they do, you immediately whine against his mouth and you can feel him smile into the kiss. Desperate to be touched, your back arches, the ghosting of his digits over your labia not enough at all. 

Jimin seems to take your reaction as an invitation and doesn’t waste more time before slipping his index and middle finger between your folds, damp and ready from anticipation. 

He slides them up and down, teasing at your entrance, gathering more slick. You're wriggling your hips into his hand, wordlessly begging for what you crave so fucking much. When he finally gives you what you need, rubbing circles over your clit, you break the kiss with a yelp.

“Shh,” Jimin hums, his mouth now on your neck. “Don’t want Jungkook to hear you, hm?”

With your brain already on the border of malfunctioning, you don’t even question it, just trying to comply as your brows knit, struggling to stifle your moans as Jimin’s finger dips down and pushes into you agonizingly slow. His teeth graze over the skin on your neck, sending even more bolts of arousal through your body. 

Your head falls back over the railing, and before you close your eyes, they find the rearview mirror in the driver cabin. And oh, Jungkook is looking straight back at you through the reflection, taking in your furrowed brows and open mouth as you gasp with darkened eyes. Jimin’s finger is pumping in and out of you at a faster pace now, the palm of his hand rubbing over your clit with each movement of his wrist. 

You don’t even realize that the truck has come to a halt a few minutes later as Jimin’s skillful fingers pull you up higher and higher. Your eyes only snap back open when the truck bed dips down.

Jungkook is towering over Jimin and you, his dark hair falling into his eyes. 

“Thought I told you to behave,” he says in such a deep tone it almost vibrates in your chest. There’s no anger behind it though, you can tell. It’s something else that’s tinging his voice, dripping down at you like thick honey.

You’re just helplessly looking up at him, mouth still agape, breathless, when Jimin detaches himself from your neck, fingers still buried in your pulsing heat.

“Yeah,” he hums. “But look how much she's enjoying herself. She’s soaking wet.”

“I bet she is.”

Jungkook crouches down and you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he tilts Jimin’s chin up with his hand and licks into his mouth that immediately opens for him as if upon silent command. Oh, those two seem to be an experienced team, working like a well-oiled machine together.

Jungkook then pulls on Jimin’s wrist, making him slip out of your dripping pussy and pulls his fingers up to his mouth, sucking them in and cleaning them of your arousal.

“Mh, so sweet,” he groans. “Want him to eat you out? He’s fucking great with his mouth.” He grabs Jimin’s chin with a smirk and licks across his lips. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out before Jungkook’s kissing you too and you can taste Jimin’s cherry residue on his tongue as he swirls it against yours.

While you’re occupied, Jimin reaches under your dress and slides your panties off your legs. 

Jungkook moves away to give Jimin the space to dive between your spread thighs, and lounges against the side panel across from you, his eyes never leaving the show that’s unfolding before them.

Jimin pulls you closer by your hips, lifting them into his lap, before stuffing one of the pillows under your ass. He slides back on his knees and wets his lips, then his mouth is suddenly on your pussy, nose pressed to your pubic bone. One of your hands grips onto the railing behind you when his tongue swipes between your folds, making you gasp. Your other hand that was bunching up your dress at your waist tangles into his hair, pulling on the strands. The movement of Jimin’s tongue falters for a second as you tug, a muffled whimper sounding from between your legs. 

You look beyond Jimin and meet Jungkook’s gaze. He’s nipping at his lower lip, one palm in his lap, not really moving, just pressing down slightly. His other hand is splayed over his chest, still covered by his tank top. The fact that he’s watching so intently is making your high build even faster and you eventually have to avert your eyes as your head falls back in bliss. Jimin is lapping over your clit at a speed that has you seeing stars and gripping his hair harder. When he pushes two fingers inside you, you gasp at the sudden stretch. He’s not teasing, in fact, he’s going for the kill with his fingers pumping into you, curling at just the right angle. Your legs close around his head as your orgasm hits you hard, ass lifting off the pillow, pressing yourself into his face as your choppy moans fill the air. He’s not letting off until you’re nothing but a trembling, whining mess. 

Jimin comes back up, chin dripping from spit and your wetness.

“Damn, the real thing tastes way better,” he sighs, licking his lips.

“Huh?” You raise your eyebrow in confusion, mind still a bit jumbled from the orgasm and you wonder if you misheard.

Jimin laughs at your grimace and picks his phone.

“My little souvenir from last time came in handy,” Jungkook casually throws out, apparently already knowing what Jimin’s about to show you, as he gets on his knees and finally takes off his top.

While Jimin scrolls on his phone, Jungkook shuffles over to lift your face up with his hand.

“Never seen anyone look so pretty when they come.”

“Oh?” At his words, Jimin’s face snaps up to look at him accusingly.

“Alright, alright,” Jungkook laughs. “Except Jiminie.” 

He grabs Jimin by his waist and pulls him in, kissing your temple first and then Jimin’s. 

“I’ll gladly share the podium,” you snicker. 

Then a phone is shoved in your hand and when you look at the screen you can’t help your mouth from falling open. It’s a picture of Jimin, taken from above. He’s forced to look up into the camera with teary eyes by a very distinctively tattooed hand gripping the back of his hair. Your panties that Jungkook pocketed are stuffed into his mouth and he’s smiling around them. Shit, that might be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. 

You clench your thighs as you feel another gush of arousal threatening to leave a wet spot underneath you. Jimin plucks his phone out of your fingers and rolls on to his back, reclining back on his elbows. 

“Can I take this off?” Jungkook asks you, holding the hem of your dress up. You look around for a moment, remembering that you are out in the open, but there’s nothing but crops swaying slightly in the soft wind, so you lift up your arms and let Jungkook undress you. Once the garment’s off, you also unhook your bra and slip out of it, leaving you completely naked. It feels a little crazy, considering both men are still in their jeans. They won’t be for long, so you’re not worrying about it. 

With a yank, Jimin pulls you down and halfway on top of him. When you land on him with one leg over his waist and your tits in his face, he wastes no time to suck one of your nipples between his lips. The flicks of his tongue makes you moan and arch your back, which seems to get Jungkook to spring into action. His big palm rubs down your back over your ass, pressing you into Jimin’s front, who’s still lavishing at your tits, caressing your nipples with his mouth and hands. Jungkook’s holding your hip as he plunges his index finger into you, making you jolt forwards and almost smother Jimin with your breasts. You’re rocking against Jungkook's hand, wishing it was his dick instead. Jimin slides up under you so you have one knee between his legs, making you able to reach his tented crotch and you squeeze his cock through the denim just as Jungkook slips in a second finger. He’s twisting his wrist as he’s pumping his digits into you, spreading them inside to stretch you.

“Don’t tease him,” Jungkook tells you with a gravelly voice as you palm Jimin through his jeans. “He’s been so good to you, hm?”

Jungkook’s right, and Jimin’s squirming under you - his fingers made you somewhat lose your focus. You fumble open his fly and zipper with clumsy hands, still being jostled back and forth by Jungkook, who speaks up again when you start pushing the pants down under Jimin’s ass that he lifts off the blanket to help. 

“Mh, so good at listening,” he hums and slows the pistoning of his fingers to a more tender pace.

You find out Jimin isn’t wearing any underwear when his cock bounces out of its constraints. 

It’s small, especially compared to Jungkook, but it’s so pretty and fits Jimin so well, it’s perfect. The tip is flushed pink and leaking precum. When you wrap your fingers around it, your palm almost completely engulfs it. At your first gentle stroke, Jimin finally loses some of his composure, a strained whimper leaving his lips as your thumb grazes his tip. 

You’re on all fours, knees braced around Jimin’s hips with Jungkook kneeling behind you, still working you with his fingers, rubbing against your walls, hitting your g-spot every few curls. His other hand is kneading the soft flesh of your ass cheeks. When his fingers retreat, your pussy desperately clenches around air at the loss of fullness. Meanwhile, Jimin is softly moaning and writhing under you as you stroke him in a lazy but steady rhythm. 

“I could watch you two all fucking day,” Jungkook groans before he shuffles further back and spreads your ass with one hand so he can get this tongue on you. He licks a flat stripe from your asshole to your pussy and back up again. It really feels like you booked the premium package for oral today. First class, VIP. 

Jimin pulls you down by your neck, catching your mouth in a wet and heavy kiss. Jungkook’s tongue momentarily leaves you before its warmth is back on your pussy. But there’s now also a hand joining yours on Jimin’s dick. Jungkook has reached beneath you with spit-slick fingers and lets them travel behind Jimin’s balls. You watch as one digit slowly disappears into Jimin, making him gasp against the side of your face. Jungkook must have some great coordination, because he never stops the flicks of his tongue as he’s working Jimin open. He has both of you whining under his touch. 

The position must be uncomfortable for him though, because after a few minutes he sits back on his heels, hand and mouth no longer on and in you two, and groans.

“Shit,” he exhales and runs his fingers through his hair to brush the sweaty strands out of his face.

You stretch your limbs as well and sit down, leaning back against the side panels. Jimin stays on his back, but props himself up on his elbows again. He lifts his leg and lets his flexed naked foot run over the visible bulge in Jungkook’s jeans, curling his toes around the outline. Jungkook’s reaction is immediate, he winces the second Jimin’s foot makes contact with his hard cock, his mouth falling open. 

Oh, he really likes that, huh? You absentmindedly play with your tits while you watch them. Jimin obviously knows how to push Jungkook’s buttons. Jungkook only lets him have his way for a few strokes of his foot before he grabs it off his crotch and lifts it up to his face. He licks across the sole once before sucking some of his toes into his mouth, making Jimin giggle. You’ve never thought about feet in a sexy context, but, admittedly, Jimin’s are just as pretty and delicious-looking as the rest of him. Can’t fault Jungkook for wanting to taste every single part. Jungkook lifts Jimin’s leg to rest on his shoulder before bending down and pulling off Jimin’s jeans all the way. Kneeling between Jimin’s spread legs, he unzips his own pants and pulls his rock-hard cock out of his boxers. Finally you’re getting a glimpse of what you’ve been thinking about for the past weeks. You have to close your mouth to keep yourself from drooling at the sight. 

There’s not a lot of time to look, because Jungkook basically throws himself on top of Jimin, who giddily yelps when Jungkook sucks a bruise into his neck. He reaches between their bodies and lines up their dicks. When he starts moving his hips, they are rubbing against each other. You don’t dare to touch your pussy, scared you’re gonna explode, that’s how much the visual before you is making you lose your shit. Enjoying the show from the imaginary cuck chair, you don’t even feel left out. And they haven’t forgotten about you - Jimin opens his eyes to catch your gaze, the hand on Jungkook’s back lifting to beckon you closer. 

You crawl over on your hands and knees, bending down to kiss Jimin. While your tongue is tangling with his, you feel Jungkook’s breath against the skin beneath your ear before his teeth gently run over your earlobe. 

Jimin pushes Jungkook off of him. “Sit,” he orders with a hand against his chest. Jungkook shuffles out of his jeans and boxers, then proceeds to lean on the railing, legs outstretched. 

You are quick to grasp what Jimin plans to do, so you join him in front of Jungkook, both of you straddling a leg each. Jimin grips his cock, angling it towards you and you suck the head into your mouth. Jimin closes in as well and licks along the shaft with a flat tongue. Jungkook’s head falls back, eyes rolling behind his heavy lids. 

“Are you trying to kill me?” he presses out between heavy breaths as you suck him off in tandem, both running your lips up and down his length at the same time, letting your tongues swirl over the tip as if you’re making out with it while Jungkooks holds onto the backs of your heads, his thighs tensing under you.

Jimin moves away for a moment, leaving you to take in Jungkook’s cock as far as you can without choking on it. 

“Better get to fucking before he comes down your throat,” Jimin tells you, returning with a condom in his hand. He rips open the foil with his teeth before rolling the rubber over Jungkook’s dick. He lets some spit drip down on it and spreads it around. With gentle fingers Jungkook brushes some of your hair behind your ear as Jimin places a kiss on the back of your neck. He’s ushering you into Jungkook’s lap and grips his cock, holding it up for you to lower yourself on it. Your arms on Jungkook’s shoulders, you push him inside you, gasping for air when he stretches you to the max while Jimin is rubbing soothing circles into your back. Jimin presses his chest into you, reaching to your front to roll your nipples between his fingers. The sensation distracts you from the sting of your pussy being stretched and you suddenly find yourself flush in Jungkook’s lap, his cock buried in you all the way. 

“Take your time,” Jimin whispers from behind you. “He’s pretty big, huh?”

Jungkook is struggling to hold still while you adjust to his size, you can tell by the vein on his neck popping out, so you don’t let him wait and start to lift your hips just to sink down on his length again. When he slides down the side panel into a horizontal position, Jimin gets a pillow to shove under his head. Jungkook grabs Jimin’s arm before he can crawl away again.

“Get on,” he just manages to grit out before he’s cut off by a moan being pushed out of him as you plummet down into his lap harder than before, slowly establishing a good rhythm, now holding on to his thighs behind you for balance.  

Jimin swings his leg over his chest, facing you, and Jungkook immediately grabs him by the hips and pulls his ass onto his face. Jimin whimpers at the feeling of Jungkook’s tongue against his hole, one hand planted on his stomach beneath him, the other holding your waist. Even though his face is contorted by pleasure, his leaking dick bobbing as he whirls his hips on Jungkook’s face, his hand still wanders from your waist down your stomach to your pussy. With the pads of two fingers he's circling your clit, your body reacting by clenching around Jungkook's cock whose muffled groan sounds from between Jimin's cheeks.

Jimin keeps rubbing you with a steady hand while you bounce on Jungkook, the double attack lifting you to new heights as the familiar tightening in your lower body increases by the second. You almost scream when Jungkook angles his hips slightly, his tip dragging against your g-spot, and your second orgasm rips through you violently. Your legs tremble as you ride out your high, fingers digging harshly into Jungkook's thighs, whiny moans spilling from your mouth as your pussy throbs around his cock.

Jimin basically catches you when you slump forwards, your face smushed into his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist and lets you rest against him until your limbs stop shaking and your breath evens out a little. While you're out of it, trying to get your bearings back, Jungkook takes over fucking you, slowly grinding his hips up, making you whimper into Jimin's skin with each thrust until your oversensitivity fades again. 

Once you've recovered enough to stay upright by yourself, Jimin slots his lips against yours, licking over them to make you open up, which you gladly do. He kisses you absolutely unrushed, lazy drags of the tip of his tongue against yours grounding you as Jungkook snaps his pelvis into you. He's making sure you're good before he climbs off Jungkook's face, who gasps, his nose and chin glistening from saliva. Jimin turns around before getting back on in front of you, the tattoo of the moon phases on his spine now facing your way. 

Your chin finds its way onto his shoulder again, just because you want to watch as he tugs on his cock in languid strokes. He moves closer to Jungkook’s face then, patting his cheek, making him obediently open his mouth and stick his tongue out. A grin is stretched across his red face as he does and Jimin rubs his dick across the wet muscle. 

You're up on your knees now, leaning forward as you hold on to Jimin, which gives Jungkook the space to fuck you properly. Each thrust pushes a moan out of you and makes you bump into Jimin, who's shoving his cock into Jungkook's mouth. He curses when Jungkook hollows his cheeks around him, probably using his tongue too. 

Jimin leans to the side, reaching for his phone. With his other hand, he pulls you even closer, your tits squishing into his back when you realise that he's going for a selfie. Really? What's with those two and the pictures? You can't help but giggle at their antics and look up into the phone camera that Jimin has raised high above you so that he can get his dick halfway down Jungkook's mouth into the frame with your dishevelled faces. Cheek pressed to yours, he snaps a few shots and then carelessly drops the phone. 

No distractions now, he starts fucking Jungkook's face who eagerly takes it. You can tell he's into it, because he rams his cock into you harder but a little more uncoordinated. You squeeze your walls around him and when you swivel your hips too, creating a new kind of friction, he almost chokes on Jimin's dick, coughing momentarily before he recovers. Jimin's chuckling between whines as he rolls his hips. Jungkook is getting close, if his choppy thrusts are any indication, so you start throwing your ass back into his lap with more vigor, trying to match his now uneven rhythm. Finally, his movement starts to stutter, his head falls back, making Jimin's cock slip out of his mouth. With a few harsh snaps, he spills his load inside you, huffing breathless moans as his head thrashes from side to side.

He's gripping Jimin's thighs as if to hold on to life itself as the last waves of his orgasm force his body to twitch under you.

While Jungkook is still out of it, panting, you reach around Jimin and wrap your fingers around his cock, still seated on Jungkook, who's slowly going soft inside you. Jimin immediately throws his head back, resting it on your shoulder so you get to watch his face. His eyelids are pressed shut and his mouth falls open as you pump him, flicking your wrist on each stroke. Jungkook comes to his senses after a moment, placing one arm behind his head to watch while caressing Jimin's leg with his free hand as he writhes in your hold. 

It doesn't take long until his moans get louder, more high pitched and desperate. When you let your other palm wander to his chest, running your fingers over his nipple repeatedly, he loses it. Jungkook actually opens his mouth, stretching out his tongue, ready for Jimin's release. You hold him against your chest to stop him from toppling over, continuing to pump him mercilessly as the first spurts of his hot seed shoot across Jungkook's face. Jimin is whimpering as you milk every last drop out of him, painting Jungkook in streaks of milky white as he trembles in your arms. You only stop when he hisses from overstimulation.

You let Jungkook slip out of you and climb off, planting kisses across Jimin's face, eyes still unfocused from bliss. He's catching his breath, holding himself up on Jungkook's chest before he slides down on his body, legs slotting with Jungkook's and licks into his still open mouth. Their tongues tangle with each other, spreading Jimin's cum around. You're eager to get a taste too, so when Jungkook pulls you closer, you immediately lean down and lick some white off his cheek. Jimin twists his head then to have your lips meet as well and for a few minutes you just lay there, crowding around Jungkook and lazily making out, swapping spit and cum between the three of you. There's still a faint taste of cherries mixed in.

A while later, all three of you are on your backs, still naked and sweaty, but with even breathing now. You're nestled between the two men pressed to your sides, one leg thrown over Jungkook's and Jimin's arm under your head, enjoying the afternoon sun on your bare skin. 

A light breeze is making the heat more tolerable as it wafts over the corn fields.

“This is just like back in the days,” Jimin hums, eyes closed. 

When he doesn't elaborate you turn to look at Jungkook.

“Used to come here and sunbathe naked all summer,” he says, voice slightly slurred as if he's about to drift off to sleep.

Jimin turns on his side then, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“Heard you're gonna be living close by soon.”

You can feel his grin against your skin and huff out a laugh before closing your eyes.

Joyride Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: So this concludes the mini series with a... bang for lack of a better word. Thank you so much for reading :] Please consider reblogging or commenting if you enjoyed, or if you're shy, feel free to send us an anonymous ask! <3

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Jimin tags: @jimintaemin

Jungkook tags: @pinkloverrose

Hoseok was a whole different story, on the other hand. Whereas Yoongi was remaining calm, cool, and collected around you, and newly cocky, Hoseok was watching you with a fire in his eyes that you couldn't quite seem to maintain contact with. You'd either end up a blushing mess and have to resort to hiding in the confines of Yoongi's chest, or you'd have to laugh your awkwardness off when he quirked the occasional eyebrow at you. Sure, Yoongi could have a cocky demeanor all he wanted- truly, he could, because it's making your heart soar- but Hoseok was the real force to be reckoned with. You could see that clear as day. 

"What are you looking at?" You ask Yoongi, facing out of his window with him, and saving yourself from Hobi's heated gaze. 

"The scenery. I love it here," he tells you, squeezing your hand in his. "It takes me back to being a kid and visiting some family throughout the holidays with my parents." 

"That's nice," you smile, leaning against his shoulder. "What about you, Kook?" You ask, watching the maknae through the slight crack of the headrest in his seat. 

"Huh?" He asks you, turning to look doe-eyed at you in the backseat, nestled between two sevenths of your soulmates. 

"What are you looking at?" You repeat the question. "You've been quiet since we got off the highway." 

"Ah, nothing important, Jagi. I usually just space out and think about stuff when we're in cars." 

"You do that outside of cars, too." Yoongi smiles, nudging Jungkook's seat with his foot. 

"I do not," Jungkook mumbles, but he does turn and look back out of the window. "I just like being with myself in my head, I guess." 

"That's nothing to be ashamed of," you shrug. "I actually think it's kind of cute." 

"Cute?" Jin giggles. “You’re cute, Jungkook-ah.” 

"Jungkook knows well enough that he's attractive," you retort. 

"I do?" Jungkook asks, eyeing you confusedly. 

"You're globally famous, Kookie." You roll your eyes affectionately. 

"Yeah?" 

"You've got to be kidding me..." You grumble. 

"What?" Kook asks, furrowing his brows. 

"You guys were on my ass earlier about acknowledging my beauty and accepting myself for who I am, all of that mumbo jumbo-" 

"Did you just use that figure of speech seriously?" Yoongi cackles. 

"All of that *mumbo jumbo*," you restate, eyeing Yoongi daringly, "but, you're really going to tell me right now that you don't understand how hot you are?" 

"From cute to hot," Jin chuckles, "I'm getting whiplash." 

"You all are." You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. 

"Well, I know that I am, sweetheart. I'm Worldwide Handsome and-" 

"Save it, Jin." Hobi rolls his eyes. "Everyone this side of the Atlantic knows that you find yourself devastatingly beautiful." 

"As they should!" Jin smiles. "It's not my fault that genetics had its way with me." 

"Of course it isn't," Yoongi snorts. "But YN said we're all hot, not just you." 

"Because you are," you sigh again. "You guys really do enjoy talking about me like I'm not here, don't you?" 

"We would never!" Jungkook shouts, looking positively shaken that you'd assume such a thing. 

"It's a joke, Kookie." You smile reassuringly at him. "I would never think you guys would try to talk about me behind my back on purpose. You're all too mature for that," you tell him, but then you catch Jin's eyes in the rearview mirror and mutter a cheeky, "Well, most of you are." 

The rest of the ride is purely comical, spent with the five of you giving each other the cheesiest pickup lines you'd ever heard- Jin wins this game, of course- and singing Korean hits out of tune. 

"Your rendition of Shoot Out was really something else, YN." Hobi chuckles as Jin finally pulls into the parking garage of your hotel. "We should consider getting you signed onto Big Hit." 

You swat playfully at his arm, happy that he lets you do so this time. You don't think your heart could handle another incident like the one this morning. Dominant Hoseok had awakened something within you that you didn't know whether you were ready for... Not that you wouldn't eventually want to open yourself up completely to him and have him return the favor tenfold. You just couldn't imagine getting that… sexually deviant with someone before you'd even truly gotten to know them. 

You can tell that Hoseok is a good guy; he's got a way about him that makes you want to smile and never stop, but you're still not completely acquainted with any of your seven soulmates. That thought alone scares you into a form of shock... You can't even begin to imagine the things that Hoseok could be into just from his suggestive comments here and there... Did he like to tie his partners up? Spank them? You could deal with spanking, you supposed. But the kinkiest sex you'd ever had had been the sex you had with Jimin, Tae, and Jungkook the night before. Not at all a loss because you had the time of your life, but that also meant you didn't have much experience to compare or equate Hobi's taste to. 

Regardless, you trusted Hoseok as much as you trusted any of your soulmates despite the short extent of your relationship with them. He'd never hurt you or put you out of your comfort zone. None of them would- that much you knew. And you'd never harm them either. You'd fight tooth and nail for the men you found yourself falling so deeply for now. You'd give anything for any single one of them to be happy.

"I'm going up with YN," Yoongi states simply as soon as the car is parked. 

"What?" You ask him, looking at him worriedly, "There could be paparazzi. My hotel is nowhere near as guarded as your guys' is." 

"But no one else knows that you're staying here, do they?" He asks you. 

"That's true, but-" 

"No buts," Yoongi tells you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "If Jin gets you all to himself tonight, I want to spend as much time as I possibly can with you now." 

"You could always ask me to stay the night with you, you know..." you point out to him, unbuckling and hopping out of the door that he holds open for you. 

"True, but that could strengthen our connection." He explains, leading you across the parking garage, "I don't want to make it any stronger than it already is..." He trails off. "You being gone is going to be hard, Jagiya, but we can all get through it. You know that, right? We love you so much already, we won't let anyone-" 

You silence him with a kiss, pulling him by the lapel of his baggy flannel against you. 

"You talk a lot," you explain when you part from him, and he shoots you a questioning glance. "And I like to kiss you," you add, pressing the elevator button. 

As if to spite your comment, Yoongi is silent in the elevator, and he pulls his mask up to cover the majority of his handsome face. He simply laces his fingers in yours and keeps you tethered to him via your hand. Despite his supposed want for you guys to remain as untethered as you possibly can, he sure does like to keep you close... not that you minded in the slightest. Min Yoongi could chain you to him for the rest of your life, and you'd probably be fine with it. Any of them could, honestly, but with Yoongi chained to you, you wouldn't have to worry about the pain of him being anywhere else. 

Once the elevator opens up to the main lobby, you make a beeline for the next, hoping not to lose Yoongi within the shuffle of people in the hotel lobby. Thankfully, his grip remains intact, and you're still connected to him by the time you reach the elevators. The next elevator, though more packed than the first, is far more comfortable, and you do thank the people around you silently for their presence- ushering Yoongi further into your figure. You can feel his hips resting lightly against yours, and his head's weight when he rests it against the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent while the elevator continuously stops and rises, and then stops again, letting people off and allowing more people to get on at what seems like a mercilessly slow pace. 

When you finally reach your floor and begin to lead Yoongi down the hallway, you realize that you've never been around Elle privately with any of the guys before. Would Yoongi like her? Would they get along? Would you have to play mediator or translator for either of them? 

Yoongi seems resolute in being kind, just as he'd always shown you, and Elle brightens when he shakes her hand and asks about her job, looking immersed in the English conversation that he allows her to lead him through. He understands everything she says for the most part, only needing your help translating once or twice. 

"I'm just going to be gone for another day, if that's fine? If you want me to stay, I'll stay. You don't have to worry about upsetting anyone, I promise. Just say the word, and I'm all yours." You tell her, zipping a spare bag the boys had lent you closed. 

"Don't worry about it, YN, really!" Elle laughs, "You go and have fun. We can catch up tomorrow night?" 

"Absolutely!" You smile. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." 

"Good! I've pieced together a few paragraphs for our article, so we only have to worry about the middle and the closing paragraphs for the first issue. I'm thinking a lot of our article is going to be pictures and bits of small interviews we can get throughout the shows." 

"Works for me," you smile. "I am so thankful for you, Elle." You tell her, pulling your friend into a rather tight hug. "You've really been so helpful on this trip. I swear if we get offered anything else, I'm all yours. I'll write the whole article if you want!" 

"Stop," she giggles, patting your back. "Seriously, just go have some fun. You don't need to worry about anything else right now. We can brainstorm tomorrow.” 

You send her another thankful smile over your shoulder as Yoongi escorts you out of the hotel suite, one of his beautifully sculpted hands on the small of your back. “She’s really nice,” he tells you, watching you double-check that the door locks behind you. 

“She is,” you agree, matching his stride as you leave the hotel behind you. 

You’re not exactly shocked when you get back to Seokjin’s car and find that Jungkook has either ordered or convinced Hoseok to change seats with him. Despite your love for the apple-cheeked hyung, you’re thankful you don’t have to sit in such close proximity with him for the remaining duration of the car ride. You don’t think your heart could handle the pounding Hoseok elicited from it. Jungkook is easier to maintain your cool around; he still has an innocent lightness to him that has you feeling as though you have some sort of upper hand, despite what he’d shown you the night before.  

“So,” you start, leaning into Jungkook’s chest while you face Jin in the driver’s seat, “what do you have in store for me tonight, Mr. Kim?” 

Jungkook giggles against you, earning a lighthearted jab on the side. 

“I was thinking about watching a movie, but we could also play video games! I’ve been playing Animal Crossing a lot lately.” 

“Either works for me!” You smile, “Can we make a pillow fort?” 

“A pillow fort? That actually sounds really fun,” Jin smiles. 

“I might have to join if there’s a pillow fort involved…” Jungkook chuckles, “I haven’t been in one since I was a kid.” 

“Bring your own blankets so we can make one big enough, and you’re more than welcome if YN is okay with it.” 

“I am,” you answer, snuggling further into the broadness of Jungkook’s chest. “It’s more than okay with me, actually.” 

You see- when you’d said that, you were under the impression that there would be *three* of you crammed under a makeshift pillow fort in Jin’s room. Not all *eight* of you. They’d all simply poured in, one after the other, blankets strewn behind them and pillows in hand- and you’d reminded Jin that they were to be your pillow fort guests, therefore you were required to show them hospitality and give them guest rights. 

It’s a mess, in the end. Food and drinks are spilled on duvets, Taehyung has somehow accidentally elbowed Jimin in the eye, and Yoongi ends up grumpily chastising everyone because he’s tired and wants to sleep. 

“Alright,” Jin shouts, over the commotion of Taehyung trying to apologize to Jimin for the fortieth time, “everyone, to bed.” 

“What about me?” Jimin pouts. 

“You’re going to bed, too. Kookie and Tae said you could bunk with them tonight, Jimin-ah.” 

“Taehyung nearly took my eye out 20 minutes ago, and now you’re sending me to him, hyung? Don’t you care at all about your soulmate?” 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Jimin,” Jungkook giggles, “I’ll protect you from Taehyung-ah.” 

Jimin rolls his eyes and huffs, “Alright, but if I come back bruised and broken, you’re to blame,” he points at Jin. 

Jin sighs, watching exasperatedly as the throng of boys file out of his bedroom, trailing soiled blankets and pillows behind them. 

“They’re exhausting…” Jin whines, collapsing onto his bed. You giggle, earning a slight grimace from him, but lie next to him and rest your head against his shoulder. 

“It was fun, you have to admit.” 

“Never,” Jin gasps. 

“Admit it,” you pout, nudging his side. 

“It was alright, I suppose.” He shrugs, “It was kind of fun watching Hoseok-ah wrestle Namjoon to the floor over a fortune cookie.” 

“He didn’t want him to swallow the fortune again? Whatever that means?” 

“I’ll show you the video in the morning. Let’s just say Namjoon is quite an airhead.” 

You laugh a bit at that, unable to imagine Namjoon as anything but intellectual and put-together. 

“You’re cute,” Jin mumbles. 

“Huh?” 

“I said, you’re cute. It’s a compliment. You’re supposed to say thank you,” he smirks. 

“Thank you- but, why?” 

“Why, what? Can’t I compliment my new soulmate in the comfort of my own home? Or is that against the guest etiquette you so kindly guided me on earlier?” 

“Shut up,” you grumble, burrowing your blushing face into his hoodie. 

“Now that *surely* goes against guest-manners. *Tsk.* We’re going to have to find a suitable punishment for that offense.” 

You freeze, heart beating a little faster inside your chest. “What kind of punishment?” 

“For telling your host to shut up?” Jin taps his chin thoughtfully, feigning a deep concentration whilst you struggle internally, bodily awareness heightening in anticipation. “A kiss would do, but you’d already asked for one earlier… We’ll have to figure something else out.” 

You bite at your lower lip, suck in a harsh breath when he glances down at you, pupils slightly dilated, and his cheeks pinkened like yours surely are. He’s beautiful, all tired and pouty looking- makes your heart flip and rise into your throat. Makes you shiver a bit just from his gaze alone. 

“Would you like that kiss?” Jin asks, voice a bit husky. 

“Mmm,” you murmur, wetting your bottom lip with your tongue. 

“Perhaps the punishment could be denying you the kiss,” he shrugs. 

You pout at him, furrow your eyebrows, and watch him stare aimlessly at the ceiling. 

“Yeah, that could be the punishment,” he whispers, “but I’m feeling greedy tonight.” 

You watch him with bated breath, watch the way he smirks at his own assessment and looks down at you with purpose. And the energy between the two of you is static again- has every hair on your arms standing straight up whilst goosebumps rise. 

It’s an easy swoop for him, given his height, to catch your lips in his. They’re thicker than you imagined, pillowy and warm… and sweet. There’s a tinge of peach chapstick that you chase with a flick of your tongue, already desperate for more of Jin. And he gives you more- lets you run your tongue along his, glide over his teeth, flick the roof of his mouth playfully. 

But you still want more, and it has you swinging your leg to rest against the other side of him so you’re straddling him on the bed- trapping him underneath you and resting against his chest so you can taste him deeper than before. 

It’s a good sensation, feels nice to have the sturdy muscle of Jin underneath you and tethering you to him. 

Feels so nice that you don’t hear the ding of your phone on the nightstand- feels so nice that you don’t see the SOS text from Elle brighten up your screen. 

You’re breathless when you and Jin finally separate from each other- your chest heaving from the excitement built and exertion spent. From looking at him, Seokjin is in the same state. His hair is disheveled, his cheeks are tinged with a deep blush, and his lips are slightly swollen. 

Whether it’s the soft and affectionate gaze he openly watches you with or the fact that you’d just spent close to an hour kissing each other on his bed like hormonal teenagers, you don’t know. You just feel the embarrassment rise within you and can’t stop yourself from hiding your face in one of his many silken blankets. 

“I think we’re past you hiding from me under the covers, yeah?” He asks you, poking his head underneath your makeshift protective wall. 

You giggle but make no move to come out of the blanket, opting instead to retreat further into the fabric. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” Jin chuckles, gripping onto your waist and pulling you back towards him. And despite your (rather half-assed) attempts at breaking free from his clutch, you find yourself back against him atop the mattress. The blanket you’d used as a shield moments prior is clear across the room from the scuffle. 

“Uncalled for,” you mumble, hiding your face in the crook of his neck when he laughs deeper. 

“What was uncalled for was you hiding from me,” he smiles, “are you really so afraid of me?” 

It’s a tease- as were most things Jin threw your way. He pinches your sides gently when you roll your eyes at him. 

It’s easy enough to find a movie you’re both happy with playing as background noise; the excited gasps you’d both let out when Howl’s Moving Castle popped up on the Smart TV in his room pretty much had the film picked without even having to ask. You grow comfortable around Jin, find yourself laughing with him more than you’d expected, and grow happy when he starts to giggle at the lame jokes you send his way. 

When you’re practically splayed across his lap- the end titles of Howl’s on the TV and a spare Nintendo Switch in your hands that Jin had decidedly given to you, and Animal Crossing music echoing throughout the room- you find yourself reaching absentmindedly for his wrist. The question remains unasked as he simply lets you analyze the ink adorning his skin. 

You have a lot of thoughts, and admittedly even more questions. Not just for Seokjin, and not even for BTS. You have an abundance of questions to ask of no human beings, but of the universe as a whole. There’s so much uncertainty, so much curiosity and bewilderment running rampant in your mind- it nearly hurts. But Jin lets you sit in silence, lets you ponder over the brand on his skin to your mind’s content. 

“I think,” you start, tracing over the letters with your pointer finger, “I think that I’m more confused than I’ve ever been in my entire life.” The admission is heavy, but it’s true. There’s so much uncertainty running through your head that you half suspect you’re being driven insane. “But it’s weird because there’s a lot of clarity that’s balancing it out. Does that make sense?” 

“Yes,” he nods, flips your wrist over so that he can take his turn looking at your marks. “I felt the same way when I met the others… It’s a lot to take in all at once. You’re not having any second thoughts, are you?” 

“No, not second thoughts. I’m just concerned. I feel like so much is happening so fast… I’m doing things I wouldn’t typically do.” You trail off, let Jin put the pieces together. 

“Is this about sex?” 

You bite your inner cheek, scrunch your nose as you nod. 

“It’s definitely a lot,” he nods, “it would be for anybody. Is there anything about it, in particular, that’s bothering you?” 

“It’s just all happening so fast. I’d usually wait a few weeks to sleep with anyone…” 

“I won’t say it’s normal because there are 8 of us, and that already disqualifies us from anything close to normalcy. I don’t think you should beat yourself up about it, though. There’s science that’s shown that it’s incredibly difficult to abstain from sex with your soulmate.” He shrugs slightly, “not that it’s not possible. Some people have waited until marriage to be physical with their soulmates. I don’t know, I think it’s completely understandable that you’d be physical with us.” 

You take your hand from his so you can grab his once more, hold it in your grasp. 

“You have six soulmates and a twin-flame, Y/N. That’s a lot for your brain and hormones to process. It’s okay to be with us in any way you want. If that’s sexual, that’s okay. No one can judge you for that. You’re human.” 

“Thank you, Jin,” you smile crookedly, feel the warmth in your chest spread from his reassurance and gentle words. “I really appreciate that.”

“No problem,” he grins back. 

“I do have a question, though.” 

“I hope to have an answer.” 

You brace yourself- want to ask your question in the politest way possible. 

“Why haven’t you- erm. Why haven’t you been sexual with me?” 

The blush you feel rising is monstrous, makes you want to bury your face in the floor for hundreds of years to come. 

“Oh- I, I don’t really know.” You watch him rub at the back of his neck nervously, watch the way the tips of his ears pinken alongside his cheeks. “I think I enjoy exercising self-control over myself…” 

You don’t push the topic, just let the answer rest in the air around you. The last thing you want is to make Seokjin uncomfortable after he’s been nothing less than outstanding and kind to you. 

“Trust me, it’s not that I don’t want to. I’ve got no problems regarding that… I just like my firsts with someone to be special. Perfect. You know?” 

“That’s understandable,” you nod. “Sorry if that seemed a little weird.”

“It’s fine. It’s something we should discuss.” 

You curl up beside him, melt against his side as he presses play on My Neighbor Totoro. 

You can’t remember falling asleep, but you can tell you’ve overslept when your eyes flutter open. The curtains are still closed across the room, but the light that spills through them is unmistakably light from the afternoon sun. Jin isn’t next to you in bed, not cuddled up to you like Jimin had been the morning before. It feels like you’ve finally become connected to your body since arriving in South Korea. The jet lag, muscles exhausted from both concerts and sex, everything. It’s all caught up to you in one fell swoop. 

You want to call out for Jin, but you can hear raised voices coming from the living room area of the suite. You don’t know if it’s the loud voices or the constant vibrating of your phone that Jin must have plugged in for you on the dresser, but something feels off. Feels like there’s an electric current underneath a layer of your skin, sending you flickers of a warning of something to come. 

“Okay, okay,” you grumble, swinging your legs over the side of the bed so you can retrieve your loud device. It takes you a few times before you successfully unlock your phone, and a few blinks to remove the sleepy haze from your vision so you can properly see the messages flooding your phone. 

It’s shocking, the way that time seems to cease existing when you read a few of the notifications that have popped up on your feed. 

You think you’re in a nightmare, actually feel the blood drain from your face as you scroll panicked through the notifications. There are thousands. And hundreds more are pouring in each time you refresh your Twitter feed. 

You click the article that’s led to the uproar, can feel your blood chill in your veins. There’s already been 100k shares on a multitude of social media platforms, as well as 30k comments. It’s only been up for 2 hours. 

You have to ignore 5 calls that have been added to the 25 Elle had made over the past 4 hours that you’ve been asleep, just to read the title of the article and the first paragraph that follows for the fiftieth time. 

BTS’ mysterious 8th member revealed in an exclusive interview with a former employee of secondary News Source.

“It was unexpected, and not something I’d thought much of since learning about the marks,” Andrew Klein, a former employee of M-Buzz and the leaker for this story, tells us. M-Buzz is a local Manhattan tabloid that has been gaining traction in the reporting world as of late. Klein continues, “Once she’d set off for South Korea to interview BTS, I’d looked into them more, didn’t expect much. I just wanted to get my job back. But then I saw the letters in their names and their birthdates… It all just connected. I couldn’t imagine Y/N being romantically involved with any of them, but it’s pretty obvious now that she is. Those pictures are proof enough.” 

The pictures in question, secured by an anonymous source in South Korea, showcase M-Buzz reporter, Y/N L/N, being escorted into her hotel by Min Yoongi, a member of the globally recognized K-pop group, BTS. The duo can be seen in a few of the photos holding hands, hugging, and sharing a kiss in the parking garage of said hotel. As of now, we’ve reached out to Big Hit Entertainment for a statement, as well as the management at M-Buzz. We’ve received no response, but we will keep this article updated as more information is revealed. 

There’s a myriad of thoughts running through your brain simultaneously, sending you into a tailspin of confusion and hurt. The article- you almost can’t bring yourself to think about it again- but the article had pictures. Pictures of you and Yoongi in the parkade of your hotel, hand in hand, kissing each other… What else did they have? How did they get those in the first place? You were all careful. Always made sure to check that your surroundings were clear of paparazzi and the general public. 

How could you be so careless, even if only for a second? 

The shame settles heavily on your conscience. Your soulmates would be facing limitless ridicule and would possibly be ostracized by the public, media, and even possibly their fans. Your heart aches sharply in your chest just from the thought- how could you live with yourself if you were the root cause of their downfall? 

First things first, you had to leave the apartment. Or at least leave Jin’s room. Claustrophobia from panic was starting to build within you, making your breath catch unevenly in your chest. Tossing your phone onto Jin’s bed, not wanting to see anything else right now- especially not the personal attacks flooding your Twitter and other social media- you exit his room. 

The argument you had heard in the living room was still in full bloom, but what surprises you is that no one seems to be pointing fingers at you. Wasn’t this all your doing? 

“We’re not going to catapult her into interviews, no,” Namjoon states firmly. You can’t tell who he’s speaking to, can’t see them from your spot in the hallway, but you know he is upset. You can hear it in the way he filled his last word with finality. 

“We can’t just ignore the media, not with the accusations being made. Speculation of a concubine? That Y/N paid to be with you all physically? Or, and this is my personal favorite, that her employers have dirt on us and that letting their employees purchase your bodies is part of their compensation for their silence? What do you reckon we do, Namjoon? The public doesn’t care that you have her initials on your arms.” 

This man, whoever he is, sounds like he comes from higher up in Big Hit Ent. A lawyer, maybe? Part of their legal team? 

“So you suggest we throw her to the wolves?” Jin spits, “That’s as good as having her sign her will.” 

“Listen,” Yoongi now, “I think it’s pretty obvious that we’re not going to allow the company to make any decisions regarding Y/N’s safety without first consulting us.” 

“We have to make some sort of statement.” 

“Not until we’re on the same page,” Namjoon states.

“Do you realize how much the company, the group, is losing in profit right now? How many emails we’ve received from people asking for refunds for the concerts? This is a big problem, you guys.” 

You furrow your brow, pull Jin’s blanket tightly against your frame. Better to make your presence known now, seeing as your autonomy was already being debated.

“Do I get a say?” 

It’s an honest question, and one you desperately want to be answered immediately. The room falls silent, the boys looking at you in concern, whereas the man standing at the forefront, a stranger to you, looked at you with irritation.

“No-” he starts.

“Of course you do,” Namjoon answers, interrupting the suit. “Sorry if we woke you.” 

“My phone nearly exploding from the notification overload woke me up. You guys are fine.” 

“We’re sorry, Y/N,” Yoongi tells you, pulling you into a hug. 

“You’re sorry?” 

He lets you out of his grasp, probably not quite understanding your confusion. “I’m the one who should be sorry,” you explain, “this whole mess is because of me.” 

“Could say that again,” the man snorts, but falls silent once Jimin sends him a death glare.

“And what did your legal team do to ensure ours and Y/N’s safety, Taeyang?” His voice is icy, shocking even his hyungs, “were you guys there to scan the garage?” Jimin waits not for an answer, refocusing on you, “We failed to protect you.” 

“No one could have known-” 

“We’ve dealt with reporters and paparazzi for years,” Jimin shakes his head, “no, this one’s on us.”

“All we can do now is damage control,” you shrug, “got any ideas?” Your question is directed at Taeyang, which seemingly surprises him, judging by the wide eyes he sends your way in response. 

“The agency has a few,” he answers once he’s regained his composure. “You could go to a public interview, and whether it’s televised or not is up to you. Or we could release a video to the public directly, which may seem more genuine- more personal.”

“Whatever it takes,” you answer, ignoring the sounds of protest erupting through seven sets of lips in the room. “We have to give them something,” you tell them, quieting them down, “they won’t stop until they have some sort of explanation.” 

You look back at Taeyang, almost appreciative of the indifference he regards you with, “Would doing both be better? Get you the desired results quicker?” 

“Definitely.” 

“Better get cameras and an interviewer ready.”

He nods but adds, “Reporters can be ruthless.” 

“I know, I am one.” 

Taeyang thanks you and assures you he’ll be in touch with you soon before he leaves, ignoring the glares that your soulmates are sending his way. 

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Taehyung asks, observing you with concern. 

“Yes.” You tell them, “We need to collectively agree on answers to questions and everything regarding our… situation.” 

“She’s right,” Jin nods, “they’re going to ask about our inter-relations as well since our reveal was so recent. They’re going to want to know who’s sleeping with whom, who we have, and haven’t been intimate with. They’re going to want to know the hows, wheres, when, and whys.”

“Who we’re screwing is no one’s business but our own,” Jimin guffaws. 

“We know that, Jimin,” Jin sighs, “but we’re public figures. While this isn’t exactly *ideal,* it is what we signed up for.”

“It’s not what Y/N signed up for,” Tae adds thoughtfully, “but she’s agreed to address the public. We have to respect that.”

“I’ll have to sort this out with my boss as well,” you tell them, “I don’t think they’ll be too enthused by my relations with you guys, even if they can’t be helped.”

“So, how do you want to do this?” Namjoon asks, looking warmly at you, “This is entirely up to you. You don’t have to do or say anything you don’t want to, and we’re on your clock. You choose when we do what.” 

“I’m going to go and call my boss and Elle first,” you tell them, “and then we can sit down and get everything straightened out, all of the facts and whatnot. After that, we’re going to have to deal with your friend Taeyang again, I’m sure.” 

“Do you want one of us there? When you’re on the phone?” Yoongi asks you, looking scared, though you can’t really place why.

“I can handle it,” you tell him, “just maybe have a cup of coffee waiting for me?” 

He nods, already set off towards the kitchen, while you disembark back to Jin’s room.

The hallway ahead of you is rather foreboding, not at all matching the feelings you had walking down it the night before when accompanying Jin to his room. You just miss the last ring of your cellphone as you re-enter his bedroom. 

Thankfully, Elle is as tenacious as ever, and your phone lights up once more only seconds later. 

“How much trouble are we in?” you ask her, phone pressed against your heated cheek. 

“Finally!” She shouts, loud enough for you to worry about your right eardrum, “I have been trying to reach you since last night! What the fuck is wrong with you, L/N?!” 

“I take it we’re in heaps of trouble, then…” You sigh. “Listen, I know I was stupid-”

“No, don’t do self-loathing, please. I don’t think my brain can take it right now,” Elle whines, “I don’t blame you-”

“Really,” you interrupt, hope bubbling inside of your chest. 

“Just because I don’t blame you doesn’t mean the public feels the same way,” she reasons, “there’s quite a bit of mess to clean up, and honestly? From the way Powell sounded on the phone last night, I’m not even sure you’ll be able to return to work anytime soon, at least not without security guards.” 

“Security guards?”

“The office has been packed with outside reporters all day, Y/N,” she huffs, “Cam told me it was difficult for our journalists to get inside this morning.” 

“Is it bad that I’m afraid to talk to Powell?” You ask.

“No. I’d be absolutely terrified,” Elle says, sounding a smidgen more anxious than you’d like, “but she did assure me that we could stay the duration of the tour-”

“She did?”

“BUT, you’re not to be in the audience at all. She said if you’re backstage, that’s fine, but you can’t be around the public right now. Not only would it be bad for M-Buzz, but it’d be damn risky for your own safety.” 

“Well, I’m set to release a statement for BigHit soon.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“There was a guy here this morning, really assertive and being shitty towards the guys. I can’t let them take all of the heat on this.” 

“They’re celebrities, Y/N, you’re an everyday woman from New York. They are more equipped to handle this than you are; besides, have you even thought about how pissed Powell will be? And it’s not just her; she has higher-ups that she has to report to. Your job is in jeopardy.”

“I don’t know what more I can tell you, Elle. This is something I have to do. I can deal with Powell and her bosses later, and on my own. I don’t want your job suffering because mine is a shit show right now.” 

“So, what’s the plan?” She asks, sighing heavily, “I can keep Powell on the burners for today, tell her you haven’t gotten back to me yet.”

“You keep working, you have my notebook still, right?” 

“Yep.”

“Good, use my notes if you need to. I’ll focus on all of the fallout, okay? I have my laptop here, so I can send you any files you need through our personal emails; M-Buzz won’t have access to those.” 

“Alright, is there anything else you need from our hotel? Clothes?”

“Nah, I can buy some if I need any. I don’t want anyone sniffing out where you are. The last concert here in Seoul is tomorrow night, so you should have new roofing after that. I’ll stick with the guys for now, and keep you updated daily.”

“Okay, please just stay safe, okay? It’s scary out there. Don’t go online for a few days. The saesangs are out in troves.” 

“I will, Elle. Thank you… for everything.” 

“Always. Talk later.” 

“Bye.” 

The room is deafeningly quiet after you hang up, and you feel your heart drop into your stomach at the revelations the phone call left you with. You’d expected your job to be in danger, sure, but you yourself? You weren’t quite banking on having to walk around with security guards for the rest of your time in South Korea, let alone back home in New York. 

You meet up with a lone Namjoon in the hallway, his dimple appearing when he half-grins at you reassuringly. 

“How are you holding up?” He asks. 

“I’ve been better,” you tell him, shrugging, “but I’m sure we can all push through this together.” 

“So optimistic,” he smiles. 

“Should I not be?” 

“No, it’s nice to see. Spirits have been pretty low today.” 

“Sorry about that,” you pout, “we were pretty careless, weren’t we?”

“I don’t think the word careless fits our situation,” he sighs, nose scrunching, “normal people can kiss their soulmates in public and it’s not a big deal. The only reason you’re going through this right now is because we’re well known.” 

“You mean famous,” you smile, nudging his shoulder. “I don’t blame you guys at all, Namjoon. I can only hope that you all don’t blame yourselves as well. I can’t imagine any of you would want me piling all of the guilt on my shoulders only.” 

He shakes his head in agreement with your statement, “We’re still sorry nonetheless.” 

“As am I,” you tell him, “let’s go meet up with the others, yeah? My coffee’s probably getting cold.” 

Yoongi has it waiting on the end table beside him when you and Namjoon enter the living quarters, brows furrowed as he scrolls through his phone. 

“Anything exciting?” 

He smiles at your question, shaking his head and gently tossing his phone onto the coffee table. “Just people being nosy, per usual.” 

“Ah, I see,” you nod, shoving him lightly. He takes the hint, scooting over so you have enough room to sidle into the loveseat with him, burrowing your face into his black hoodie. “Did I miss anything?” 

“Just me making your coffee and Jungkook trying to get everyone to smile.” 

You chuckle at that, happy that at least one person was keeping a happy demeanor despite the circumstances. 

“I’m surprised you weren’t setting up a PowerPoint,” Yoongi grumbles, smiling slyly at Namjoon, who sits across from the two of you on the sofa. 

“Yeah, I was just about to when Y/N interrupted me in the hallway,” Namjoon grins back, winking at you. 

“Whatever,” you sigh. 

“We do need to discuss stuff,” Jin states simply, leaning against the kitchen island. “Like we said before, we need to get everything out in the open before Y/N does her interviews.”

“Yeah, there’s quite a bit of our relationship,” Hoseok nods, waving his hands towards his group mates, “that you’re not aware of yet. We’re sure you have a list of questions to ask us regarding it anyway.” 

“You’re not wrong,” you nod, “I just don’t want to overstep.”

“You’re our soulmate,” Taehyung says, resting a large and warm palm on your shoulder from behind you, “there’s essentially nothing you can do to overstep any boundaries.” 

“He’s right,” Jungkook smiles, “you’re an equal part of this now. It’s only fair that we fill you in on everything that’s happened while you’ve been in America. And if you think that seems unfair, we can always ask you questions in return. It’ll be like truth or dare, but there’s only truths.” 

“That kind of defeats the purpose of the game, does it not?” Jimin smirks, “But I am with Jungkook on this. We’ve all got to open up to each other completely now that Y/N is here, though it’s especially for her sake, I’m sure there’s some stuff that we want to be more honest with each other about.” 

“We’ll be here for hours,” Taehyung notes. 

“It’ll be worth it,” Namjoon states. “This is a learning experience for all of us.” 

“The silver lining,” Jin nods. 

“Well, let’s get started then, yeah,” you announce, “I’ve got a question. For me. Not the interview.” 

“Go ahead,” Namjoon encourages you.

“Who… I mean, do you guys sleep with each other? Like, sexually? I’ve heard it mentioned here and there.” 

“You’re right to ask that, it only makes sense that we should start with something simple, obvious…” Seokjin nods, “the seven of us,” he motions towards his groupmates, “know most there is to know about each other already. But Y/N is new to our dynamic.” 

“I’ve been with everyone except Jungkook and Jin-hyung,” your twin-flame tells you, running his thumb along the back of your hand. Your position on the loveseat gave you a pretty good view of the room. 

Jungkook and Taehyung were strewn across either end of the large sofa, Hoseok in between them with his lean legs kicked up on the coffee table. Jin still stood in the kitchen, leaned against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee in his hands. Namjoon looked professional in the lounge chair at the forefront of the room, laptop closed atop his thighs. Jimin was standing near Namjoon until he sprawled unceremoniously across Taehyung’s lap.

“Body counts,” Jimin giggles. 

“That’s Jiminie’s way of confessing to being the slut of the group,” Taehyung chirps, laughing when Jungkook chokes on his strawberry milk.

“I’m a classy whore,” Jimin shrugs, nudging Taehyung’s thigh, “attention is nice.”

“Aish, that’s not very helpful, you two,” Jin groans, “Yoongi was on the right path. I haven’t been physically involved with any of the members,” he explains, looking into your eyes. 

“Why?” You ask honestly, curiosity piqued.

Jin shrugs, “My connection to them is emotional; I haven’t really felt a physical urge until you came along.” 

You blush at that, remembering the look Jin had given you after your demonstration the other night with the younger members of the group. 

“I’ve been with everyone save for Jin hyung,” Jimin explains.

“The same goes for me,” Namjoon adds, which honestly surprises you slightly. You hadn’t seen too much of Namjoon’s sensual side save for the other night. 

“I’ve been with Joon, Yoongi, and Jungkook,” Hobi tells you, and your brain whirls. Hoseok was so dominant, and the only person you’d felt could rival his dominance was Namjoon, his twin flame. You only wished that one day you could see that dynamic in action.

“Which means I’ve been with Yoongi, Kookie, and Jimin,” Tae smiles.

“And me with Tae, Jimin, and Joon.” Jungkook nods. 

“None of you feel left out or wanting?” You ask, “not that I’d expect anyone to feel that way.”

“We’ve been happy with our relationship thus far,” Namjoon answers you.

“Does my being added into the mix mess the dynamic up?” 

“It makes it more full, yes.” Namjoon nods, “But mess it up? No. We’ve been waiting for you for years, Y/N. There is no disappointment or frustration with you finally being here. If anything, it’s more exciting and feels complete finally. We just don’t know what boundaries you have with us.” 

You think on that for a moment, wondering to yourself if any existed for you where the seven men in front of you were involved. 

“There’s none,” you answer honestly. “There’s slight hesitancy,” you admit, “but that’s because I still don’t know how we’re going to make this work with me having to go back to New York after the tour. I know I want to be with all of you in every sense, but I also know we need to slow down and I need to try and remain rational.” 

“Everything has happened so fast,” you add. “I explained some of this to Jin last night before bed… but I’m usually not this committed. I’ll hook up with people, and it’s good for a little but I get scared of romance and commitment, and I run. This is all so new to me, and honestly? I’m scared.” 

Yoongi squeezes your hand gently, eyeing you concernedly. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise them, but you can feel the promise to yourself in your words as well, “I don’t want to go anywhere, but I can’t just get over those habits like nothing.” 

“We understand,” Jin nods, “we were scared at first, too.” 

“We’ll support you like you support us,” Namjoon says, “and if your mind ever changes and you need to take a break, we will honor that. We don’t decide for you, Y/N.” 

You smile at that, “thank you.” 

“What else do you want to know?” he asks.

“What do you think will change now that I am here?” 

“Everything,” Hoseok answers, “but also nothing. You were always here in some fashion, Y/N. We knew eventually we would either meet you or find some sort of closure in your absence, but you were always here with us. You’re a part of this relationship, you always have been. The only difference now that you’re actually here with us is that we get to be with you in all aspects. Sexually, romantically, physically… I could hold your hand now that you’re here. We can make you food and take you on trips and tours with us. You’ll be an important part of our lives now, but these are things we’ve been doing for a while. We just get to share them now with you.” 

“Hoseok is right,” Jin agrees, “though now we might need to add more shows in New York to our tours and plan more trips to Manhattan during our off days.” 

“I can be a great tour guide,” you smile. “This isn’t so hard,” you sigh, “I have a feeling the interviews in store for me are going to be more difficult…” 

“Probably,” Taehyung nods, “but you’ll have us cheering you on, Y/N. We are on your side. Whatever you feel comfortable sharing with the public, you can share.” 

“They’re going to be fishing for information on you guys,” you tell them all, eyes scanning the room, “nothing you have told me in this room will be told to the reporters.” 

Jungkook smiles, “Reporters have a way of taking the worst scenario and running with it when they don’t get the information they want.” 

“Good thing I’ve been in the business for years,” you remind him. “I can handle this, you guys. I promise you I can.” 

“We know,” Jimin smiles. “We trust you.” 

The room is ridiculous; white paint nearly blinding, and the lack of windows and color leaves you feeling isolated from life as you know it. The only furniture in the room is placed starkly in the middle, two off-white lounge chairs with a small glass coffee table between them. You suppose it was an attempt at looking homey and welcoming, yet it feels anything but that as you take it all in. 

 Taeyang stands in the corner in a crisp suit, talking to multiple BigHit execs. The boys were not allowed in the room as distractions could have disastrous consequences during your filming, and your nerves were beginning to really take a toll on you. You wanted nothing more than the seven of them at your side, but you knew you would get through this interview with your head held high.

Taeyang looks your way as the finishing touches are made to your makeup by Chaeran, a tight-lipped smile adorning his features as he slowly strides over to you. “You’re ready?” It sounds more like a statement than a question.

“Yes.” You answer, standing up and flattening the black pencil skirt against your frame. The rose petal pink sweater is a bit much, but if Taeyang needed you to appear youthful and proper, youthful and proper you’d appear; what came out of your mouth, however, was completely up to you.

The reporter is a younger man, introduces himself to you as Haechul Ren, and the greetings and initial questions are off his tongue as soon as the camera clicks on and the director signals for him to begin. You settle further in the chair you’re sitting in, but keep your back straightened and your hands in your lap neatly.

“Good Morning, Seoul, and thank you for tuning in. I am your host, Haechul Ren, reporting on the latest news involving BTS, and I am here with L/N Y/N, a reporter from M-Buzz New York. Many of you have already seen the headlines circulating all news outlets this morning, but for those who haven’t, early this morning, it was revealed by a coworker of L/N Y/N that Miss L/N is, in fact, the eighth soulmate of the entirety of the global superstar group BTS. Thank you for being here with us this morning, Miss L/N, I can only imagine how difficult a day it’s been for you.” 

The compassion in his tone is clearly dramatized and leaves you wanting to be spiteful, but you swallow your pride and nod your head politely. “It has been a hectic one to be certain,” you answer kindly.

“The article released this morning, the very first one, have you seen it?” 

“I have,” you answer.

“Is it true?” 

“Which part exactly?” 

“Are you the eighth soulmate of BTS?” 

“Yes.” 

“How does that make you feel?” He asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Do you have a soulmate, Mr. Haechul?” 

“I do,” he replies dryly. 

“And how does that make you feel?”

“I suppose it makes me feel very lucky, but Miss L/N, I only have the one soulmate-”

“And I have seven,” you deadpan, “I suppose that makes me feel extremely lucky.” Your smile is sickeningly sweet on your face, and you can almost feel the irritation boiling from Ren next to you.

“How long have you known that all members of BTS are your soulmates?” He continues. 

“Less than two weeks,” you answer.

“Did you know they were your soulmates before the reveal of their marks during their concert?” 

“Yes.” 

“So then why were your initials and birthdate covered?” 

“For my comfort, but mostly for my protection,” you reply honestly. 

“Do you feel as though you need protecting, Miss L/N?”

“Have you seen the comments on the articles, Mr. Haechul?” 

He shakes his head no, “I figured. The comments, Mr. Haechul, are rather disgraceful. I have deactivated all of my social media as thousands of people are sending me messages, emails, friend requests, and threats. I’ve had multiple calls come through my personal phone from people who have found my number leaked through chat sites and blogs. To answer your question, no, I do not feel as though I need protection, but I see no issue in the members having covered my information on their wrists as they were only trying to shield me from the publicity I am currently receiving.” 

“Are you new to publicity? Does it frighten you?” 

“I suppose not,” you agree, “but let me ask you this, would you agree that people are dangerous, Mr. Haechul?” 

“I would agree that they can be,” he shrugs. 

“It is not the publicity that frightens me,” you explain, “I am a reporter, publicity is a huge part of my job. It is the relentlessness with which people are exhibiting to contact me that frightens me. It is people that frighten me.”

“You are the soulmate of prominent figures, Miss L/N.”

“And even prominent figures deserve privacy, Mr. Haechul.” You smile back, “If you were to wake one morning to find that pictures of yourself and your soulmate in a private encounter had gone viral and people whom you didn't know were attempting to reach out to them, would you feel safe? Would you expect your soulmate to feel safe?”

“I am not famous,” he argues, “your soulmates, Miss L/N, are famous.” 

“Are you saying that famous individuals are undeserving of the privacy you have? Why should private aspects of their relationships and livelihoods be broadcast for the world to see when we do not expect the same from our own relationships and lives? They are famous, yes, and with fame comes some loss of control over your personal life and what information the public has access to, but they are still people. They still deserve to live their private lives privately.”

“The public wants answers, Miss L/N,” Ren states firmly, and you watch Taeyang straighten his back in the chair he sits in across the room, “and you yourself are a reporter. You have interviewed groups before, and you have asked questions nearly identical to the ones I pose to you now. What makes you and your soulmates exempt?” 

“Nothing,” you answer, “I suppose I just know when to stop digging.” 

Taeyang’s eyebrows raise at that, and you begin to worry until he nods his head at you in approval. 

“Your relationship with the members,” Ren continues, “is it physical?” 

You level your gaze with him, “You’ve seen the photos.”

He grimaces, “And are the members physical with one another?” 

“I’ve seen them hug each other,” you snap, “is that answer satisfactory enough?” 

“The public is simply trying to understand the situation, Miss L/N,” he replies acidically. 

“Situation?” 

“Your predicament is unheard of, it’s shocking and unnatural.” 

“And what would you define as natural, Mr. Haechul? Two soulmates? Man and woman?” 

He grins wickedly, “Many would.” 

“This interview is over,” you announce, preparing to stand.

“Miss L/N, please, sit.” 

You look at the man across from you and grow angered at the grin plastered across his face at what you’d only assume the public would deem an ‘outburst,’ and take a deep breath before settling back into your seat.

“I am here to answer questions regarding me, Mr. Haechul. I will not divulge personal information regarding my soulmates simply because the public wants to hear the answers. If you have questions for me that are about me, ask them. I will answer them honestly.” 

He grips the arm of his chair a little harder at that, “as you wish.”

His first questions are simple, asking about the meaning behind your name, how many siblings you have, and what your childhood was like. 

“What do your parents make of your mark?” 

You blanch at that, “my mom only ever wanted me to be happy. We didn’t think I had one, let alone seven, honestly; we were even toying with the idea of my work being my soulmate. We were preparing for me to be alone or to settle for something casual. Not everyone finds their soulmate.” 

“And your father?” 

“Died while I was in high school,” you answer voidly, “next question.” 

“Do you have hobbies outside of reporting?” Ren asks, visibly shocked by the answer to his last inquiry. 

“Of course, we’re reporters, not robots. I enjoy music, especially when I was younger, and I read books when I have free time. I took up streaming my gameplay when I was in high school, but I haven’t kept up with it.” 

“Were you in relationships before meeting your soulmates?” 

“Yes, though none were serious.” 

“What’s the longest relationship you’ve been in?” 

“Two years,” you answer, ignoring the pang of hurt that rises in your heart at the memories. 

“How’d that end?” 

“Painfully,” you admit. 

“Do you plan on returning to New York after the tour is over?” 

“Yes.” 

Taeyang looks surprised at that, and you try not to focus too much on his expression, “I won’t be there for too long,” you add.

“Are you open to relocating to Seoul?” 

“I suppose so,” you nod, “that’s something I need to figure out with my soulmates. I don’t plan on making arrangements during our interview.” 

Haechul huffs, “We’re nearing the end now,” he tells you, and some of the tension in your shoulders eases.

He’s right, the remaining questions are easy enough to evade or answer in a few words. Once the cameras shut off, you let out a sigh of relief, allowing Taeyang to lead you back towards the room the boys were left waiting in. 

You’re shocked to only be met with Namjoon inside the room, having expected to see all of the boys. “They went to pick up some food,” he explains. “You did great,” he tells you, pulling you into a warm hug, the planes of his chest relaxing you as you rest your head against him.

“I have decided I don’t like being interviewed,” you complain, looking up into his eyes. 

“I don’t blame you,” he nods, “but you handled it gracefully. We can’t thank you enough or possibly express to you how much we value your strength.” 

You shrug, squeezing his hands in your own as you are released from his grasp, “I needed to say something, I’ve caused you guys enough discourse as it is. Taeyang says I will film the YouTube video next week.” 

“You’ll do just as well as you did today,” Namjoon smiles softly, running his thumb along your cheek. 

Your heart flutters in your chest, “of course I will,” you smile, “I owe it to you guys.” 

“We owe you everything,” he shakes his head, “we’re sorry we’ve overwhelmed you so far. What happened with Yoongi? He wasn’t planning on it. We were all planning on taking things slow, or as slow as we possibly could take them.” 

“I know, Joon,” you whisper. “You guys have done absolutely nothing wrong. I’m just trying to wrap my head around all of it. Everything has changed. My whole life is different now. I’m just trying to work through it, figure out how I’m going to leave my job and my life in New York. I can’t stay there longer than I need to. Not with you all here.” 

“We can afford the trips out there, if you need time.” 

“I know, but a big part of me doesn’t want time,” you smile shyly, looking at the tallest member’s eyes once more. 

“I’m sure they’ll love to hear that,” he smiles back.

“Oh, will they?” 

“They’ll feel the same way I do,” he answers, “Y/N?” 

“Yes?” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

You smile, nodding your head and relishing in the feeling of Namjoon resting his hand against the small of your back and pulling you towards him. You feel his exhale of breath when you’re flush against him, the sturdiness of his chest supporting your small hands once again as he uses his free hand to angle your face gently towards his. 

He’s so tall, your figure is dwarfed next to his. You’re pliant beneath his touch, heart racing in your chest when his plush lips finally press against your own. He’s gentle, almost too much so, until you sigh into the kiss and he deepens it. His tongue flicks against your lips experimentally, and you react; the moan is breathy and nearly inaudible, but thankfully enough for Namjoon, he can feel it against his mouth, and he tightens his grip on you, pulling you somehow closer to him. 

He bites your bottom lip gently, chasing your lips as you finally part yourself from him, breathless and seeing stars. 

“That was nice,” you whisper, swollen and glossy lips on display so prettily for him. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, equally breathless and visually affected if the slight tenting in his jeans is anything to go by.

“Food’s here,” Jungkook announces, bouncing through the doorway and reading the room, “if you guys are hungry,” he adds. 

Namjoon blushes deeply, and you let out a breathy chuckle, heart fluttering further as the other five members enter the room, “We’re starving,” you tell them. You’re not lying. The takeout they’ve brought with them smells heavenly, and your forgotten nerves had worked up an appetite in you. 

“You’re awake.” He whispers into your ear. 

Jimin. You smile against the fabric of his pillow, taking in his scent. 

“I’m awake.” You reply, “I would turn around, but I’m sore.” 

“Bad or good?” He asks, dominant bravado from last night long gone. 

“Good.” You murmur, finding his hand underneath the pillow and pulling it to your cheek. 

“I’ll text Kookie and have him bring a heating pad later. He always keeps a few on hand when we tour. Hobi loves to torture us with practices.” Jimin chuckles, and you hear his fingers tapping at his phone screen. 

“My muscles would appreciate that… How are you feeling?” You ask him.

“Sleepy,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to your naked shoulder blade. “And amazing…” 

“Amazing?” You tease him.

“Amazing.” He answers in earnest, squeezing you to him. “Are you hungry?” 

“Not yet,” you tell him, “I could go for a shower or a bath, though.” 

“We have a shower and a bath, all in one.” Jimin smiles, “I could help you if you want.” 

The suggestive tone in his voice is endearing, to a limitless degree. 

“Lead the way.” You chuckle. 

“No, no, no. You’re sore. I’ll carry you.” 

“What, no-” 

“Too late,” he smirks, standing up from the mattress and scooping you into his arms, the bedsheet still wrapped around you. You’re rather surprised at first, but you remember the strength he’d exerted over you the night before, and that shock melts away. The band of his boxer-briefs tickles your bare hip, but Jimin’s sturdy grip on you distracts you from it. 

“You two are up early,” Jin smiles, stepping into the hallway as you and Jimin do. “Did Jiminie snore all night, YN?” 

“I did not-” Jimin starts. 

“Not that I noticed.” 

“Then why are you awake at 6 in the morning?” 

“I need a shower,” you sigh. “Probably should have taken one last night, but…” 

“I see.” Jin smiles, “Well, Jiminie will take good care of you, Jagiya. I’ll make you guys some breakfast.” 

“Thank you, Jin,” you smile back, watching as the broad-shouldered eldest member disappears down the hall.

Jimin’s arms tighten around your torso, keeping you close to him while he nudges open the bathroom door with his foot. “Do you want a shower, and then a bath?” He asks, setting you on the bathroom counter. Your sheet falls to the floor, and the typical embarrassment you’d feel from being naked in front of someone isn’t anywhere to be found; there’s just a pleasant high from being near Jimin. 

“That sounds amazing,” you tell him, watching him carefully prepare the shower stream. He uses his wrist to test the water, making sure it’s not too hot or cold for your skin. 

“The water pressure here is touchy, so call me if you need anything while you’re in there, okay?” His eyes are light on yours, crinkling into their typical half-moons when he grins widely.

“You’re not joining me?” You ask, surprised. You had thought that’s what he meant when he said he could help you earlier. 

Jimin’s blush rises rather quickly, and you hold in a giggle at the cute reaction. “I didn’t know- I mean, you’re okay with that?” He asks, twiddling with his fingers. 

“Of course I am,” you giggle, hopping down from the counter and looping your arms around his muscular neck. “You are my soulmate, you know. And we already got the sex thing out of the way last night…” 

“Sex thing?” He laughs.

“Oh, hush.” You quip, pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek, “let’s get in before I freeze to death.” 

“We don’t want that,” Jimin winks, removing his underwear and stepping under the steady stream of water. “Mmmm, feels good. Get in here.” 

You smile at him, watching his silvery hair grow slick and wet, darkening under the influence of the water. “You’re really pretty, you know.” You tell him, stepping into the tub; Jimin gracefully moves out of your way, helping you position yourself under the shower head. 

“Thank you,” he blushes, thumbing some wayward water droplets off your lips. “You’re pretty, too.” 

“I’m also hogging the water,” you tell him, holding your arms out. 

He smiles at your antics, but walks into your arms, hugging you to him so that you’re both under the spray of warm water. His fingers trail your spine, sending slight shivers throughout your body. 

You jump slightly at the pleasant music that seems to play throughout the entirety of the suite. If you listen closely enough, you can nearly pinpoint where it plays from. The living room, perhaps, or the kitchen. 

“Jin likes to listen to music while he cooks,” Jimin explains, kissing your collarbone. “Helps him concentrate. Jungkook made him playlists and everything. This is the American playlist, I think,” he finishes, replacing his kiss with a gentle nip before he lightly smacks your butt. 

“Hey,” you laugh, pinching his shoulder. 

“Couldn’t help myself…” He sighs. “You’re just so cute.” 

“Kings of Leon,” you whisper, listening to the lilt of the music, “I used to listen to them when I was younger,” you smile. 

“Kings of Leon,” Jimin echoes you, testing the English name on his tongue. “I haven’t heard this before… It’s pretty.” 

“If I’m remembering correctly, this is Pyro…” you tell him, relaxing your head on his shoulder. 

“Pyro… Like someone obsessed with fire?” He asks you.

“Mhm.” 

“Yoongi did some research on pyromania when we were shooting the music video for Fake Love.” Jimin tells you, still tracing your spine absentmindedly. A minute later, the song changes, and Jimin peers into your eyes, “Do you know what one this is?” 

You listen, the familiar guitar riff filling your ears and drowning out the sound of running water. 

“Sex on Fire.” You tell him, grinning sheepishly, “I think.” 

“Hm, like us last night.” Jimin smiles. 

You swat at his shoulder, smiling when he erupts into laughter. 

“You can’t tell me it wasn’t good, Jagi.” He tells you, releasing you from his hold. “It was amazing for me.” 

“Oh, it was beyond amazing, Jimin.” You tell him, shaking your head shyly. “I don’t think it gets much better than last night.” 

“Really?” 

“Absolutely. I mean, two orgasms in a row…” You tell him breathlessly, remembering the feeling of his fingers on your clit. 

“You haven’t had two like that before?” Jimin asks, perplexed, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “You haven’t been fucking the right people, Jagiya.” 

“You’re right.” You tell him, smirking. “I didn’t know I had seven soulmates waiting for me in South Korea.” 

Jimin bites down on his bottom lip, “Well, now you do. Let’s use some body wash before we get into the bath. I’ll wash your hair in the tub.” 

You nod, the two of you soaping each other up, occasionally letting contented sighs pass through parted lips. A few songs have passed before Jimin turns the shower head off and plugs the drain in the tub, turning the bath faucet on. The water pools at your feet, steadily gaining momentum and height.   

“You can sit first, Jagi. I’ll slide in behind you.” Jimin tells you, watching the curve of your ass as you settle into the tub below him. The water feels like Heaven against your sore muscles. 

Jimin’s careful and quiet as he settles himself behind you, legs parted so you can lean back against his chest. 

His right hand plays absentmindedly with wet strands of your hair, tugging softly before he returns his fingers to your scalp. His left hand snakes across your shoulder blade, tracing the curves of your chest before he lets it rest above your heart. 

“You should stay with us again tonight.” He yawns, twisting your hair around his pointer finger. 

“I’d need to get a few things from my hotel,” you tell him. 

“Jin could drive you. He wanted to spend tonight with you, anyway.” 

“He does?” You ask him, interest piqued. 

“Of course he does,” Jimin laughs, “why wouldn’t he want to spend time with you?” 

“Well, last night- I uh, I noticed the others didn’t really, you know…” You trail off, shrugging your shoulders. 

“Oh. Yeah, I’ll let Jin explain that to you.” Jimin chuckles. “It’s not what you think, though. Yoongi won’t do much for obvious reasons now. But the other three,” he tuts. “Anyways, yeah, Jin will want some time with you. We all want time with you.”  

“Okay.” 

“So, you’ll stay tonight?” 

You sigh affectionately, melting further into the man behind you, “I guess.” 

He squeezes you against him in response, his muscular chest and strong arms keeping you glued to him. You couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else. 

That thought, however, reminds you of the position you’d taken in New York. If you could feel this sated, this content… this euphoric, why would you leave? Why would you leave? The familiar panic in your gut rises, your mind flooded with your heavy thoughts. 

“You okay?” Jimin asks, using articulate fingers to turn your chin upwards. His eyes are wide, worried, and searching yours for any explanation for your racing heart. “What’s wrong, baby?” He cooes, seeing the panic in your eyes. 

“I’m sorry-” you choke out, a small sob escaping your throat. 

“Hey, hey,” Jimin whispers, helping you to straddle his naked lap. “Why are you sorry?” 

“I’m leaving you guys at the end of the month…” You mumble. 

“Angel…” Jimin sighs, “You don’t have to apologize for that. Ever.” 

You rest your head into the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around his bare shoulders, tears falling from your chin onto his collarbone. 

“Listen, a lot is going through your mind right now. We know that, because we’ve been in your position before,” Jimin explains, rubbing your back. “It’s not just the job. You’re bonding with us, and not in a typical, mundane way. We’re your soulmates, that goes beyond just having feelings for us.” 

His voice blends perfectly with Coldplay’s Yellow playing in the background. You could honestly drift to sleep. 

“I care about you guys so much…” You tell him. “So much. I don’t quite understand it. Everything has happened so fast.” 

“I know, and that’s our fault.” Jimin mumbles. “We should be more patient with you. Last night was probably too much-” 

“No,” you rush out, scrambling to sit up so that he can see your face. “Last night was one of the best nights of my life, Jimin.” You tell him, meaning every single word. “I don’t regret it. I will never regret last night.” 

Jimin smiles shyly at your declaration, watching the way your chest rises and falls, water droplets cascading from your hair, to your breast, over your hardened nipples, and back into the tub below. 

“I want you all to know that I will never, ever, ever regret any of you. Don’t you guys see that?” You ask him, running the palm of your hand along his jaw. “I’m not worried that we’re moving fast, Jimin, I’m worried because I don’t know how I’ll be able to leave.” 

“I know that it doesn’t make sense right now, Jagi… But just two days ago, you were talking about needing some space to think, and I can’t speak in place of the others, but I think you should do that.” 

“But the tethering with Yoongi-” 

“We will figure that out. We can request a stay in New York after the tour and the few interviews we have here, that way, Yoongi won’t be too far away from you. You’ll be able to be with him within minutes if that’s what you want. All we want is for this to be easy for you, okay?” He promises, kissing your cheek.

“Thank you, Jimin…” You whisper, pressing a light kiss against his plump lips. 

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but we are here for you, YN. Always. Now, turn back around and let me wash your hair.” 

You listen, wordlessly, to his orders, not wanting to spoil the intimate moment between you and Jimin. The long sigh of a shampoo bottle signals for you to lean your head back, and then Jimin runs his skillful hands through your hair. His fingernails lightly scrape at your scalp, and you moan slightly, lips parting without your permission as the wanton sound slithers through them. 

“Does that feel good?” Jimin purrs, tugging at the sudsy strands of hair he holds in his hands. 

“Mhm,” you sigh, feeling his member harden against your back at your approval. “Feels good, Jimin…” you add, feeling him harden even further. 

“Almost ready to rinse,” he tells you, “lean your head back again?” 

You do, closing your eyes while he uses the bath water to rinse the soap from your hair. Another bottle sighs, and Jimin repeats his actions, lathering your wet hair with conditioner. His hands are sure, working the soap expertly against your scalp as they had before. 

“And lean back one more time, baby,” Jimin instructs, running water through your hair once more. “Good girl,” he smiles, tapping your shoulders, “now, we switch.” 

Jimin slides past you with ease and grace, turning his back to you in a swift motion. He leans back, looking at you upside down. “Clean me,” he smiles, sticking his soft pink tongue out at you.

“Alright,” you giggle, rinsing his hair before prepping a dollop of shampoo in your hands. 

Jimin’s hair is ridiculously soft, and his reaction to you working the soap into it is rendering you a soft mess. He practically melts into your touch, resting the weight of his head into your hands. If you crane your neck, you can see his Adam’s apple straining against his tanned skin, rising slightly with his laboured breathing as you tug at his hair. 

“Your hair is very soft,” you tell him, scraping your nails against his scalp. 

“Mmmm,” he sighs, sounding as desperate as you had earlier. “I like this…” 

“I did, too.” You smile, rinsing the soap out of his silver hair. “You have nice hands.” 

“Yah! Stop being so cute.” Jimin chirps, covering his face with his hands. 

You laugh at him in earnest, admiring his adorable behavior, and squeeze a dime-sized helping of conditioner into your hands. You mimic your actions, taking note of the tugs you administer that make Jimin twitch underneath you, the tugs that have his cock hardening under the pleasantly hot water as well. 

“You like it when I tug your hair,” you say, words coming out more like a statement than a question, as the familiar tune of Cold Desert plays from the kitchen. Jungkook must really appreciate Kings of Leon. Or he just selected random American artists and added their music to the rotation without a second thought.

“I do,” Jimin smirks. “So did you.” 

“Touché, Park.” 

Jimin chuckles a breathy chuckle, “It was sexy, watching you under me last night.”

You bite down on your lip, trying desperately to focus on rinsing the conditioner out of his silver hair. 

“And the way you took Tae into your mouth… he was a mess when you did that. His dick will probably be dry for weeks.”

Alright. Two could play at this game.

“You couldn’t keep your hands off me, though, could you, Jimin?” You ask him, voice wound tight with your desire. “You touched me when I was sucking Tae off, and you touched me when I was riding Jungkook,” you tell him, feeling him still against your chest. “Playing with my nipples and my clit while I was tending to your maknaes…” You tsk at him, tugging his hair harshly once more. 

“Mmm,” Jimin whines, muscles in his thighs and abdomen tightening at your dirty words. 

“You’re dominant, Park, I’ll give you that, but I can tell how much you would love being reassured. Loved. I can see how much you want your partners to show you that you’re enough.” You continue, releasing his hair from your grasp and running your hands, palms flat, against the thick muscles of his thighs, slightly scraping the taut skin. “Can’t you see how beautiful you are, Jimin? You mesmerize everyone, all of the time…” You coo, gripping his submerged length in your hand, listening to the strained hiss that escapes his parted lips from your touch.

“Please-” he stammers, his dick pulsing in your hand. “I need-” 

“I know,” you smile, gripping him with more pressure as you work your hand up and down his swollen and straining cock. “Do you want to come like this?” You ask him, still sliding your hand along his erection.

He doesn’t answer, too invested in the feeling of your smooth hands against the most intimate part of him. “Or do you want my mouth?” No answer, “Want me on top of you, baby?” You coo, the surge of your dominance going straight to Jimin’s cock. 

“On me, please…” Jimin huffs, crying out in relief when you readjust yourself to settle on his lap. 

The water ripples beneath your movements, and the air of the room cools the portion of your hips that had just been submerged. Jimin’s eyes are hot on yours, the brown ocher from earlier turning to hot, melted chocolate. The possessiveness from last night's nowhere to be seen. He’s completely pliant beneath you, receptive to your every move; never once drawing from your dominance. 

“Such a good boy,” you tell him, tracing his jaw with your warm and wet fingertips. 

His eyes, surprisingly, fill with tears at your praise; watching you on top of him, enchanted by your presence. 

“I love-” 

“I know. Me, too.” You tell him, tilting his chin up so that you can rest your hungry lips against his. If you told any of them- out loud- the feelings you knew were blooming within you, you’d never go back to New York. You knew that. So for now, they’d remain unspoken.

Jimin doesn’t seem bothered by your non-verbal response; instead, he pours his emotions into your mouth with his tongue, the taste giving you a heady high. You pull away from him, holding yourself up against his collarbone, watching his expression as you grab his length and position it below your heat. His breathing breaks as you finally sheath him inside of you, your warmth lighting him up from the inside, out. 

He watches you with bated breath, the light of the bathroom making you look like an angel above him. He wants to praise you, pray at the altar that is YN, but he knows that you’re in complete control, and he’s happy that you are. He’s happy to relinquish his control today, content in handing it over to you. Despite the brief nature of your relationship with Jimin and BTS so far, he trusts you wholeheartedly, and he knows the others do as well. 

His lips part in that sinful way that they do, small, harsh breaths spilling into the air between the two of you as you use the muscles of your thighs and calves to ride him, displacing the water beneath you. 

“You feel so good, baby,” you tell him, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against his neck, suckling at his flesh while you work yourself against him. “You’re so good, Jimin,” you whisper against him, grinning devilishly when he mewls against your breast, taking a nipple into his hot mouth. 

“Such a good boy,” you coo, rocking your hips harshly against his, crying out when he pistons his against yours; his cockhead rubbing against your sweet spot. “Fuck, Jimin,” you whine, scraping his shoulder blades and shivering against him. 

“I’m going to come,” he warns you, nipping at your chest. 

“Do it, baby,” you tell him.

“But you’re not close,” he whines. 

“It’s okay, this is all about you, Jimin.” You reassure him, clenching your cunt around him. 

“Fuck-” he gasps, “okay, alright.” 

His hips snap up again, meeting every thrust you send loudly, water splashing recklessly against the porcelain tub. 

“Shit-” he cries, his hands gripping your shoulders and pulling you down substantially harder against him. His dick spasms inside of you, warmth coating your walls in spurts. “Fuck…” he groans, biting the soft flesh of your breast not unpleasantly. 

You only slide off of him once you feel him softening inside of you, cleaning his excitement off of your cunt while he recovers from his orgasm. 

“Breakfast is ready,” Jin calls from the kitchen, as soon as you and Jimin are dressed. 

“Finally,” Jimin chirps, shooting up from his bed and setting off for the kitchen, “come on! Before Jungkook wakes up and inhales it all!” 

You roll your eyes at his childish antics, but follow him to the kitchen nonetheless, stomach growling as the smell of Jin’s breakfast banchan meets your nose. 

“That smells amazing.” You gape, watching as Jin prepares the plates at the large dining table. 

“Thank you,” the eldest member smiles, pointing to the head of the table, “that’s your seat.” 

You take your seat wordlessly, gawking openly at the mouth-watering food that Jin’s prepared. The potato stir-fry looks as if it could melt in your mouth, and the broth-simmered rice looks to die for. 

“Eat, Jagi,” Jimin smiles between mouthfuls of banchan across from you. “It’s delicious.” 

Jin smiles, bringing a mug and his plate to the seat on your right, sitting down gracefully. “I only get to make proper breakfast meals when we’re staying in a city for longer than a day,” he tells you, watching graciously as you use your chopsticks to get a mouthful of the stir-fry into your mouth.

“It’s amazing, Jin,” you praise him, digging back into the stir-fry. “Better than restaurants!” 

“They don’t call me Chef Handsome for nothing,” he tells you. 

“Yah! We don’t call you that, hyung.” Jimin whines. “Don’t lie to YN.” 

Jin laughs, leaning towards your ear. You lean over, giggling when he whispers into it. “He thinks I don’t hear them complimenting me, but they do.” He tells you. 

“Stop that!” Jimin groans, “You’re being a child, Jin.” 

“Eat your food, Jiminie,” Jin tells him, ignoring the maknae’s complaints. “I was wondering if you were going to stay here again tonight?” Jin asks you, looking into your eyes as he takes a sip from his mug. 

“If that’s what you guys want,” you smile, “I’d just need to get some stuff from my hotel.” 

“I could drive you later,” he tells you. “I was going to ask if you’d like to spend tonight with me. Feel free to say no,” he adds. 

“That’s more than fine with me, Jin.” You reassure him, “I’ll probably need to run a few things by Elle before I come back, though… Would you want to come up to our room? Or wait in the car?” 

“I can wait in the car, don’t want to risk you getting bombarded by paparazzi.” He tells you.

“Yah! Tae!” Jungkook yells, entering the dining area, “Jin made breakfast!” 

“Ah! It’s not all yours!” Jin complains, tossing a lone pebble of rice at Jungkook. “Why are you up so early, Jungkook?” 

“You didn’t hear Jimin and YN in the bathroom?” Jungkook giggles, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at the two of you. “They were going at it.” 

“I was busy listening to music and making breakfast for you ungrateful brats,” Jin huffs. “I didn’t hear anything.” 

“It was nice to wake up to,” Taehyung smiles, sitting next to Jungkook. “Never thought I’d hear the day Jimin had to eat his words. He’s always so, listen to me or don’t tell me what to do or how to feel.” 

“Wha-” 

“Don’t start, Jimin,” Tae quips, cutting his elder off. “I heard the way she made you moan.” 

“Shut up, Taehyung,” Jimin growls, glaring at the chocolate-haired maknae sitting nearest to him.

“Testy,” Tae laughs, gripping some rice with his chopsticks. “I’m not dissing, Chim. It was nice to hear you switch up your pace for once.” 

“YN had you moaning last night, too, Taehyung.” Hoseok chuckles, entering the room with Namjoon and Yoongi on his heels. “You and Jungkook were practically drooling at the sight of her.” 

“We all were, Hobi.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, preparing plates for the three newcomers. 

“Will you be gracing us with your presence again tonight, Jagi?” Hoseok asks, stealing a bite of your rice.

You go to swat at his hand, but he grips your wrist tightly in a well-defined hand, dark eyes meeting yours reproachfully. “Mm, you don’t want to do that, Sweetheart.” He cooes, soft voice a shocking contrast to his angelic face that’s seemingly carved into a warning sign.

You swallow down the air in your mouth, your sexual frustration from lack of orgasm in the bathtub building slowly in your belly. The look Hoseok is giving you now… You can’t say you expected it. It’s definitely a 180 from his typical sunny disposition. You also can’t say you weren’t enjoying it. 

“You see, Sweetheart, Jimin last night? He’s got nothing on me.” Hoseok warns you, and you fully believe what he’s said. 

“Yah! Be gentle, Hoseok,” Jin warns, “you’re going to give poor YN a heart attack.” 

Hobi’s hold on your wrist softens, and soon he releases the grip entirely, a full-cheeked grin spreading across his face. 

“I’m sorry if I startled you, Jagi! I just have a very acquired taste.” He explains, resting a chaste kiss atop your head before taking a seat on the opposite side of the dining table. 

“It’s fine…” You breathe, regaining control over your jellified mind. “To answer your question, uh, yeah, I think I am staying over tonight as well. As long as that’s fine with all of you, of course.” 

“Of course it’s fine with us,” Namjoon tells you, sitting between Hoseok and Yoongi. “You’re always welcome to our hotel rooms and homes.” 

“But your management? Are they okay with me being here? I know that some of your rules are pretty set in stone. Especially after your reveal the other night.” 

“Ah, yeah, they’ll probably be upset with us for a while, but there’s not much in terms of our contracts that they can do about us having you over. It’s more or less public outings that they have control over. Which is why when we had you meet us at that restaurant, we had to take precautionary measures, like the security and the small staff team.” Joon replies.

“Will they be upset with you, though? I really don’t want to cause any issues.” You mumble, picking at your rice. 

“Jagi,” Jin says, resting his hand on yours so you stop fumbling with your food, “you’re our soulmate. We don’t care if they’re upset at us for being around you. All we want is to be with you.”

The sentiment was sweet. The way Jin keeps his unwavering focus on you is sweet. But there’s still a part of you, regardless of how much reassurance you get, that feels awful for taking the job in New York. 

“Not like they could control it, either.” Yoongi shrugs, “if we stay away from each other too long, it won’t feel good.” 

“I won’t be around much after this month…” You state sadly, looking from Jin’s warm eyes to your abandoned plate of food on the table. 

“You’re still worried about going back to Manhattan?” Hoseok asks. 

You don’t quite trust yourself to voice your confirmation, so you just nod, lamely watching steam rise off your rice. Jin standing up abruptly from his chair is the only thing that drags your attention off of your food. He moves around the table towards you, turning your chair to face him while he kneels between your legs. 

“We’ve considered disbanding,” Jin tells you. 

You gasp, looking around the room at the other members. Each remains unmoving, their faces cool and composed while they watch you and Jin. 

“But your fans… and you guys love your music. You guys are so talented, and you’ve got so much to offer! I’ve seen-” you start. 

“You want us to succeed in doing what we love, because you have seen how much we love what we do.” Jin summarizes. 

“Of course,” you tell him, nodding fervently. 

“We will miss you when you return to America, yes.” He nods, gripping your hands in his own. “But we want you to succeed, too. If that means we have to be patient for an extra year or so, then so be it. Count us in. This isn’t a typical relationship, Jagi. Millions of people end up with someone who isn’t their soulmate or soulmates simply because they can’t find each other. But we found you, and you found us; and we’re not giving you up just because you have a job in America.

“We will visit you in Manhattan as often as we possibly can. And we can get you plane tickets here whenever you want. You just have to call us, and we’ll get everything settled. Always. No time limit, no worries, no hesitation. All we ask is that you don’t find someone else in New York.” He finishes, looking at you with painfully vulnerable eyes. 

“Wait, me find someone else?” You repeat him, completely taken aback. “Why would any of you be worried about me finding someone else when I have you guys?” 

“Oh, don’t be coy.” Jungkook laughs. 

“Wait, you’re serious?” Taehyung coughs, furrowing his brows when you don’t joke back with Jungkook. “Have you seen yourself, YN? You’re beautiful, smart, and funny; the question you should be asking is who wouldn’t want to be with you.” 

“I’m really not that spec-” 

You’re cut off by a warm hand covering your mouth. You crane your neck, turning from Taehyung to see Jin, whose hand is effectively acting as your face mask. 

“We’re not going to let you speak poorly of yourself, Jagiya.” He tells you, furrowing his brows as Taehyung had, “you are beautiful. You are smart. You are funny. There are no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it. Worldwide Handsome only speaks truth.” 

You roll your eyes affectionately at the madnae, but nod your head nonetheless. 

“Promise you won’t speak poorly of yourself,” he orders, smiling nonchalantly at you. 

You mumble through his hand, his warm skin effectively muffling your promise. 

“Better keep your word,” he warns you, removing his hand. 

“Whatever you say,” you quip, taking another bite of your rice and stir fry. 

“You almost ready, YN? We have the hallways cleared out, so we’re good to go whenever you are.” Jin tells you, grabbing a pair of shiny keys from the granite countertop. “It looks like we might have a few tagalongs.” 

“Hm, who all is that going to be?” You ask him, hoisting your backpack over your shoulders. 

“Yoongi, Hobi and Jungkook.” Jin answers.

You turn, surprised when you take in Jin’s appearance. He looks comfortable, and breathtaking. Would you ever be able to not oggle the men the universe has given you? Not likely. 

His dark black jeans hug his hips deliciously, the slightly skin-tight denim clinging to the muscle of his thighs and shins. And over those sinful jeans, he wears a loose-fitting pastel pink hoodie, the black drawstring on it excessive in both length and size. The matching pink baseball cap he wears keeps his fading lavender tresses from invading his line of sight. 

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” you tell him, pointing towards the circular lenses positioned in front of his brown eyes. 

“Ah, all of us do.” He tells you, “Well, aside from Hobi. He  doesn’t need to wear them to improve his vision.” He explains once he sees your confused face. “We mostly use contact lenses. They’re easier to hide.” He smiles. 

“I guess that makes sense. They look really good on you,” you tell him. He blushes at your words, surprising for someone who refers to themselves as ‘Worldwide Handsome.’ 

“You’re sweet.” He smiles, hugging you to his side. 

“You guys coming?” Jungkook asks, popping his curly, black haired head into the doorway of the living room.

“Yah! You all need to learn the value of patience,” Seokjin scolds him, “but, yes, we’re coming.” 

“You hardly know the value of patience yourself, Jin.” Hobi teases from behind the hood of his graffiti-patterned hoodie; his faded blue jeans making him look especially appetizing. 

“I most definitely do!” Jin retorts, nudging Hobi out of the way. 

“Do not. It’s been proven time and time again.” Hobi rolls his eyes, “It’s not that big of a deal, Jin. Just admit that you’re not all that patient.” 

“I will not!” 

“You are so difficult.” Hobi whines. 

“Aish, stop arguing,” Jungkook grumbles, leading the throng of you out into the hallway of the hotel. His hair, nearly shoulder length, is mesmerizing as it shifts and moves with his long strides, resting right atop the neck of his crewneck sweater. And his jeans… damn. His thighs looked mouth-watering. “I got dibs on shotgun.” 

You’re pulled from your ass-centric reveries when a pair of arms wrap around the small of your waist; a warm chest pressed flush against your back.

“Miss me?” A low voice asks you, warm breath fanning across your exposed neck and ear. 

You giggle, leaning your head back against Yoongi’s shoulder and kissing his neck. “How’ve you been holding up?” 

“As well as I can be,” he shrugs. “I’ve just missed you a lot.” 

“I have been around, you know.” You laugh, coming to a standstill while Jungkook presses the button to call one of the two elevators. You feel Yoongi’s lips pout against your skin, “but I’ve missed you, too!” You add, squeezing his arms tightly around you. 

“Yoongi-ah… so needy.” Hobi teases, pinching Yoongi’s cheek from over your shoulder.

“You’re just as needy with Joon, Hobi.” Jin reminds the younger member, “I’d say we’re all pretty needy.” 

“An admission from Worldwide Handsome himself?” Jungkook gapes. “You’re a changed man, hyung.” 

“I’ve admitted to my faults before,” Jin argues, stepping into the elevator with the rest of you. “I’m just more… open to them now.” 

“YN is making you reasonable and soft!” Hoseok laughs. 

“She’s made all of us soft.” Jin retorts, chuckling.

“But Mr. Worldwide is openly accepting his softness,” Yoongi adds, “this day should go down in history.” 

“You are all ridiculous,” you chuckle. 

“Yah! Such harsh words from the woman who owns our hearts,” Hoseok gapes, looking to you with mock devastation. “We’ll have to get you back for that, Jagiya.” 

You blush lightly, murmuring a ‘sorry’ to the dominant man in front of you. 

“I’ll forgive you,” Jungkook tells you, resting his head against the shoulder Yoongi isn’t using as a pillow. “Hobi-hyung won’t be as forgiving, I’m afraid.” He whispers so low you almost don’t catch the words, but you do, and they send a shiver down your spine. 

“You guys do enjoy toying with her, don’t you?” Jin asks, leaning his back against the elevator wall. “She’s blushing like a tomato.” 

“She’s easily affected,” Hobi shrugs. “We’re not completely at fault.” 

“Hmph, whatever you say, Hoseok.” Jin shakes his head, chuckling to himself. 

“I don’t really mind it…” You whisper, watching the way Hoseok tenses across from you. 

“You might want to tread carefully, YN,” Yoongi whispers, squeezing you against him once more and pointing his chin in Hobi’s general direction, “he’s got a switch that is pretty easy to flip.” 

“Oh,” you gape, watching Hoseok’s stony expression. The only sign that you’ve affected him is the tightness of his jaw, and the storm clouds you’re sure are swirling behind his umber irises. 

You watch Hobi from your peripheral vision during the rest of the elevator ride, feeling Yoongi press lazy pecks against your shoulder, and listening to Jungkook and Jin bicker back and forth. Slowly but gradually, the tightness of Hoseok’s posture eases; the sunny personality that masks his dominant persona returns to his features. 

Hoseok steps out of the elevator in time with Jungkook and Jin, leaving you and Yoongi to slowly trail behind them. “You were staring,” Yoongi tells you, unwrapping himself from around you so he can walk beside you and speed up your pace. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his black joggers, letting the loose flannel he wears flap lamely against his sides.

“I was?” You ask him, confused. 

“At Hoseok.” He replies, giggling. “While we were in the elevator.” 

“Oh,” you mumble. “I just-I don’t know.” You fail to find the words, focusing on the backs of the three men ahead of you. 

“He’s pretty intoxicating,” Yoongi nods, “I get it. He’s gotten under my skin quite a bit, too.” 

“Really?” You ask. 

“Yep,” he says. “He pretty much steals everyone’s attention. Wouldn’t be surprised if he also got under Tae, Jin, and Jungkook’s skin.” 

“Why would that be surprising?” You ask, confused by his choice of wording. “I thought you all were intimate with each other?” You whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. 

“Oh, no.” Yoongi shakes his head. “I’ve never been with Jin or Jungkook. And I know for a fact Jin hasn’t been with Hobi or Jungkook.” 

“Really?” 

“Mhm. Not all of our relationships with each other involve, for lack of better wording, sex. Or any sexual intimacy, actually. But you’d have to ask the others about their sexual preferences,” he smirks. 

“That makes sense,” you nod your head, “I have met a few people who are simply platonic with their soulmate.” 

“So, are you suggesting we’re normal?” Yoongi asks you, pointedly staring at the marks on your arm before you both break out into a fit of laughter. 

“What are you two cackling about?” Jin turns, watching you and Yoongi catch your breath between bursts of giggles. 

“Nothing,” Yoongi reassures Jin, pulling you along with him and into the parking garage. “Which car are we taking this time, Jin?” 

“I was just going to take mine, seems easiest.” Jin shrugs. “If you’d prefer different, we can take something else.” 

“No, that works. Means I can sit with YN.” 

“So can I,” Hoseok smiles, voice bright.  “You’ll be part of a Sope sandwich,” He tells you, swinging an arm around your shoulders while they lead you towards Jin’s car. 

“Mind elaborating?” You ask, cocking your head towards the taller black haired hyung.

“It’s mine and Yoongi’s ship name!” Hobi smiles. “Sope! Suga and J-Hope, get it?” 

“Alright, that’s clever.” You tell him, thanking him when he opens the back door of the car for you. You slide into the middle seat. Yoongi’s already seated to your right and waiting to help buckle you (an action that makes your heart soar) while Hoseok slides into his seat to your left. 

“Thank you guys for taking me to get some stuff,” you tell them as Jin pulls out of the parking garage, Seoul coming into view beyond the glass window panes. 

If you strain your eyes enough, you can just barely make out the small crowd gathered in front of the hotel’s entrance. They truly never got a break. 

“You don’t have to thank us,” Jin tells you from the driver’s seat, meeting your eyes for a millisecond in the rearview mirror. “You’ll have to drop that habit with us eventually, you know.” 

“I beg to differ,” you argue, rolling your eyes. “Being polite is nothing to drop. You drop bad habits.” 

“She has a point, hyung.” Jungkook adds, watching the passing scenery out of his window, “although there truly isn’t a point in you thanking us, Jagi. We enjoy doing things for you.” 

“I just feel like a hassle sometimes,” you shrug, twiddling Yoongi’s fingers absentmindedly on your lap. 

“You’re not,” Hoseok tells you, resting his hand against your thigh, giving it a slight, reassuring squeeze that has your heart doing backflips. His hands are large and overwhelmingly warm, especially with your body still wound up from earlier with Jimin.

“You’re really not,” Yoongi adds, “I don’t understand why you’d think you are. You’ve done nothing wrong since we met. I’m the one who fucked up a bit.” 

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it a fuck up,” you reply.

“I would.” Jin chuckles. 

“Yes, but you’re not the one he slept with, are you?” You quip, raising your eyebrows at Jin in the mirror. 

“She’s got you there,” Yoongi huffs. “Fine, I’ll accept what I did if you accept that you’re not a hassle and that we’re always going to be here for you.” 

“That seems like a bit of an uneven trade-off.” You tell him, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. 

“What?” Yoongi chuckles, “You need more incentive?” 

“Precisely.” 

“Name your price,” Yoongi orders, rubbing his thumb along the top of your hand. 

“I’m an expensive woman,” you tease, smiling devilishly at your hands. 

There were a few things you wanted off the top of your head, all equally needy and thirsty. Your libido had been exceptionally high since meeting your soulmates and your twin flame, which honestly wasn’t surprising given your lackluster sex life growing up. Sure, you’d had your fair share of orgasms in your days, but there was something about sex with your other half, and the 6 other men who completed you that left you starving for more. It’s like they’d introduced you to a hunger you never knew was there, and now that it’d been awakened, it was screaming for more and had no intentions of lessening its appetite anytime soon.

But you had to be realistic. You were in a car, on your way to your hotel, where you’d pack a bag and explain things to Elle. You couldn’t have sex with any of the men in your vicinity right now. But you could have something damn near as rewarding. 

“I’m sure we can, at the least, match your price,” Yoongi tells you, managing to keep the way he regards you similar to that of a salesman, though his hands are still unprofessionally intertwined with yours on your lap. 

“I want a kiss.” You shrug. 

“A kiss?” Yoongi repeats you, brows furrowed.

“From each of you.” You tell him. 

“I’m in the front seat!” Jungkook whines, turning to face you and looking sad. 

“You wanted shotgun, Jungkook,” Hoseok tells him. “You can kiss YN later.” 

“And I’m driving.” Jin sighs. 

“I’ll be sleeping in your room tonight, Jin. Or have you already forgotten?” 

Jin laughs his seagull laugh, “Oh, I haven’t forgotten, Jagiya.” He tells you, an unspoken promise on his tongue. 

“This deal doesn’t just apply to the four of you, though.” You tell them, blushing when they look at you, confused. “I’d like to kiss Jimin, Namjoon, and Taehyung as well.” 

“That’s easy. You’ve got a deal,” Yoongi smiles, placing a hand on your thigh as confirmation. Hoseok’s hand, warm as ever, still rests on the opposite thigh. 

Hoseok’s, though not as heavily veined as Yoongi’s, were beautiful; the softness of them contrasting with the thick muscles and tendons you could slightly make out from underneath his copper skin. They’d surely be the death of you. 

Yoongi, sensing your jumbled and giddy state of mind, slightly squeezes your thigh; feathery light but not completely without pressure. You begrudgingly stop ogling Hoseok’s hand and finally lift your chin to look at your twin flame.

 Your hand falls on top of his, giving it a small squeeze to let him know you were ready.  “You’re okay with just Hobi and me for now, though?” Yoongi asks.

“I’m more than okay with that,” you tell them, and look from Hoseok to Yoongi. 

“Alright, princess,” Hobi whispers into the shell of your ear, taking advantage of your focus on Yoongi. “You fine with me going first?” He cooes, and although it’s presented as a question, you can tell that he won’t be taking no for an answer. 

For some reason unknown to you, you can’t bring yourself to answer the man behind you or even turn to face him. The energy, raw and lustful, that you can feel radiating off of him from behind you is intimidating enough. Were you ready to face that? 

Your answer is caught in your throat when Hobi’s hand squeezes your thigh, tighter than he had earlier, the harsh pinch of it resonating in your lower belly.

“Answer me,” he orders you. The way both Jungkook and Yoongi seem to freeze up in their seats does not go unnoticed by you whatsoever. Apparently, Hoseok’s dominance didn’t only affect you. 

“Yes.” You breathe, letting a sigh escape your lips when Hobi’s grip on your thigh eases. The tingle feels… good. 

“Look at me,” he tells you, voice hot and heavy. 

You do, despite the millions of butterflies using their wings as battering rams against your stomach. You can’t decide whether your decision was the proper one. Simply glancing at him has turned you to gelatin. You’re pretty damn certain he’s inhuman. You’ve had your suspicions about immortality regarding the entirety of the group since you’d met them barely a week prior, but this just confirmed them. 

Hoseok was, to put it lightly, devastatingly sexy. The muscles of his legs are straining against the faded denim of his jeans while he sits next to you, causing your mouth to water. His jacket is unzipped and hangs bunched up around his elbows. 

“Good girl,” he praises you, the tense set of his jaw relaxing when you do as you’re told. You let out a harsh breath at his praise, the heat in your lower belly building at his compliment. 

He keeps his right hand on your thigh, his grip hardly noticeable save for the heat radiating from his palm; his left hand he uses to angle your chin up further, so that you have direct eye contact. You’re sure you’ll melt from the intensity of Hoseok’s gaze. Whereas Yoongi, Jungkook, and Taehyung were flustered during your more intimate moments, and Jimin was a nice mix of both dominant and flustered, Hoseok was all heat… all dominance. The submissive side you’d sensed in Jimin is nowhere to be found beyond the eyes of Jung Hoseok. 

You can practically see the warning signs light up throughout your mind, pleading with you not to delve in deeply with the man ahead of you. You just simply don’t care. Hoseok is enticing, a flame you want to hone, and you’re not going to stop because of a slight fear of the unknown. 

“Kiss me, Princess,” Hoseok whispers, his lips hovering mere inches in front of your own. 

Your breath is already so labored, you could swear you’d already been kissing the man in front of you for hours. 

His lips curl into a knowing smile as he watches you flush with embarrassment in front of him. You were so sexy to him… Especially with the innocence lurking beyond your gaze. Hoseok could hardly contain himself when you looked up at him through your thick eyelashes, your hands raising to rest against his chest before you stopped them mid-air, peering at him to ask for permission. He can feel his heart palpitate at your actions, something he’s not very familiar with outside of being around Namjoon. 

“You can touch me, Princess.” He tells you, eyeing the way your lip quivers when he refers to you with the pet name. 

You finally rest your hands against his chest, slightly shocked when you feel how labored his breathing is as well. You weren’t aware that you’d been affecting him in a way similar to how he was affecting you. His chest, toned and heaving beneath your small hands, is warm, and you take a moment to let your hands roam the expanse of the strong pecs, feeling the planes of his pectorals from over his t-shirt. 

You almost get whiplash when his hands grip your wrists and stop them in their tracks, your pursuit of his chest long forgotten when you see the way he looks at you.

“Kiss me,” he repeats his earlier order, eyes shifting into a look that’s nearly threatening. 

You melt. You swear you do. You feel your excitement pool in your underwear as you lean forward and finally press your lips against the angelic curve of Hoseok’s. 

“Damn…” Jungkook whispers from the passenger seat. You can’t bring yourself to acknowledge the maknae’s words when Hoseok flicks his tongue across your bottom lip, surprising you.

You part your lips immediately, completely pliant against Hoseok’s eager mouth. His tongue, hot and fervent, collides with yours, using your momentary shock to invade your mouth and test your boundaries. Surprisingly, he finds none. You’re willing to give Hoseok whatever he wants, and that makes his heart flutter further. 

It’s when you finally move your tongue against his that he lets out a low moan, your body reacting without a second thought as you pull him against you by his jacket, deepening the kiss and biting at his bottom lip. 

Your eagerness surprises him, but he doesn’t complain. He simply lets you take the reins for now, following your lead as he mentally notes the things you love to do to him, and the things he’d love to do to you. 

“Please don’t fuck in my car,” Jin whines, causing Jungkook to erupt into a fit of giggles. 

“Fuck off,” Hoseok spits through your kisses. 

“He’s right, Hobi.” Yoongi chuckles. “You’re getting carried away.” 

You huff and pout when Hoseok disconnects his sinful lips from yours, your saliva glistening on the swollen skin. 

“I was not,” Hoseok chirps, “I was letting YN take the lead.” 

“What?” Yoongi gapes. “I’m sorry, I thought you said you were letting YN take the lead. But, clearly, I’ve been mistaken.” 

“You’re not.” Hobi shrugs, resting his right hand back atop your thigh. “I wanted her to show me what she likes.” 

“You don’t let anyone take the lead!” Yoongi whines, pouting next to you. 

“Yah! Quit your complaining back there.” Jin snaps. 

You smirk, giggling along with Jungkook at the antics within the car. 

“My turn,” Yoongi tells you, leaning his sleepy-eyed face in front of you and pressing a chaste kiss to your already kiss-swollen lips. 

“That’s all?” You whimper, looking at your twin flame in mock horror. 

“That’s all.” He smiles, looking proud of himself. 

“Seems unfair.” You pout. 

“Oh? Seems rather fair to me. You did say you just wanted a kiss from each of us.” 

“You’re cheeky.” You growl, leaning into Hobi to show Yoongi that you mean business. 

“Our connection is different, sweetheart. I can’t make out with you without wanting to do more. You’ll understand later on, I promise.” Yoongi explains, and despite your bitterness towards him for not literally sucking your soul out of your body via your mouth, you can hear the genuineness in his voice. 

So, rather than arguing, you take one of his hands and hold it in your own, using Hoseok as a body pillow as you watch Seoul pass by through the backseat windows. 

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“You two almost ready?” Jin calls from the door of the rec room, smiling at the proximity he’d caught you and Jungkook in. He’d snapped a picture of the two of you after he’d nabbed his cell from Hoseok’s bag, already having sent it to the group chat.

“Yeah!” Jungkook calls, gripping your hand into his warm one, “Dibs on sitting next to YN in the car!” 

There are several groans of displeasure, but Jungkook remains smiling to himself, happy that he’d scored the seating arrangement before his hyungs did. He can vaguely hear the commotion that’s erupting from the rec room, assumedly for the seat on the other side of you. If you were okay sitting in the middle, that is.

His warm grip on yours has you blushing the entire walk to the parking garage, his hold not so much as loosening when he presses the garage level button in the elevator. You lean your head against his taller frame, just barely brushing past his muscular shoulder, the exhaustion from the eventful evening finally catching up to you. He’s sturdy, sturdy enough that you pretty much allow him to keep you standing while the elevator makes its lengthy descent. 

“You tired?” He asks, resting one of his full cheeks atop your forehead. 

“Mmm,” you hum back, nuzzling further into his arm. “You’re warm,” you tell him. 

“Thank you?” He giggles at your strange compliment, nuzzling you with his nose. “You’re adorable when you’re tired.” 

You feign shock, shifting yourself so that you’re standing directly in front of him, your mouth open in an ‘o.’ 

“Jeon Jungkook! Are you hitting on me?” You tease him, raising your eyebrows. 

He flushes deeply, eyes slightly darkening at your teasing, and you subconsciously feel your stomach flipping, and a familiar heat in the lower part of your abdomen building. 

“Maybe,” Jungkook smiles, his face inching closer to yours. “What are you going to do about it?” 

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to maintain your cool, despite the firetruck red complexion you were sure your cheeks had on full display. 

“Are you challenging me to make a move?” You quip, desire bubbling within you.

He puckers his lips in question, looking at the elevator ceiling. “Maybe.” He chimes, biting his inner cheek. 

You worry at your bottom lip in turn, trying desperately to affect him as much as he’s affecting you. He readjusts his stance, taking a deep breath and trying to harden any resolve he can muster. But you’re a damn good fighter, and he knows without a doubt that he’s fighting a losing battle. 

He blinks slowly behind the black tendrils of hair that hang over the arch of his eyebrows, and into his line of sight, feeling his breathing hitch as your face comes closer into view. You watch the lids flutter closed, irises the color of melted chocolate disappearing behind thick eyelashes and lightly shaded eyelids. You can tell he’s shocked by your lips when they land on the bulb of his nose, and then the buds of his cheeks, the offended skin you touch turning a rosy color. His eyes slowly opened, finding you’ve returned to standing beside him in the small space, somehow managing to look both unbothered and completely buzzing. 

“That was an act of war,” he tells you, reclaiming your hand and pulling you lightly against his side once more. 

“You fired the first shot, Mr. What Are You Going to do About it?” You fire back, peeking at him to watch his smile appear. 

“Consider yourself warned, Noona.” He replies, squeezing your hand tightly in his own. 

“Message relayed,” you smile, stepping with him out of the elevator and towards the few men already waiting for you at the vehicle. 

You weren’t familiar with this driver, but he seemed kind enough. Hoseok and Jimin help you into the SUV while Jungkook shoves his bag into the trunk. 

“Can I braid your hair during the drive?” Hoseok asks you, taking his seat directly behind you. 

“Yah! I want to braid your hair, too.” Jimin smiles, taking the seat next to you. 

You giggle at their request, but allow it all the same. Your hair had practically been screaming at you to let it down throughout the concert. At least now you have reason to listen. 

Jimin and J-Hope are ridiculously competitive, you note. They compare and contrast their braiding skills while you and Jungkook sit in comfortable silence, listening to their silly bickering. 

“Mine is more tightly bound!” Hoseok whines, “Yours isn’t even staying in place.” 

“Yes, it is!” Jimin argues, tightening the hairband once more for good measure. 

You laugh, hardly able to contain the giddiness that they have you feeling. Jimin pouts at you, collapsing onto your lap. 

“Tell Hobi that my braid is perfectly fine,” Jimin whines into your pants, lips shifting the fabric ever so slightly. 

“It’s a great braid, Jimin.” You tell him, sticking your tongue out at the older member in the back seat. 

“Hey! He said mine was loose.” Hoseok complains, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“They’re both amazing.” You tell them, “Aren’t they, Kook?” You ask the man who’d remained silent at your side. 

“They are!” Jungkook cheers, enthusiasm ringing clear as day in his tone. “Ah, here they come!” He chirps, pointing towards the elevator doors across from the parking lot. 

Jin, Namjoon, Yoongi, and Taehyung all step out, carrying their things and laughing at Namjoon, who appears to be blushing.

“You will never believe what Joon just did,” Yoongi laughs, climbing into the passenger seat. 

“Oh no,” J-Hope chuckles, “what happened this time?” 

“Not only did our lovely Joon-ah just send us to the wrong floor three separate times, but he also told the stadium owner, ‘love you,’ after the owner said ‘have a good night’.” 

Namjoon cowers into his hoodie in the backseat, small chuckles escaping his lips. “It seemed appropriate at the time.”

“How?” Hoseok chuckles. 

“One time I karate chopped my aunt’s arm because I thought she called me a brat, but she just asked where I saw her cat.” You shrug. 

“You… karate chopped your aunt?” Jin asks, voice heavy. “Am I hearing that right?” 

“Yep.” You reply dryly, “She was awful, though. Always yelled at me and other kids, expecting us to help her with lawn work, even though she gave us no reason to want to help. I got her good. My cousins also put soap on her toilet seat once so she’d fall.” 

It’s quiet for a bit, and then everyone in the car, save for the driver, loses it. 

“I can’t believe you went Jackie Chan on your aunt…” Namjoon wheezes, his earlier embarrassment long forgotten.

“Yeah, I was a weird kid.” You reply. “Haven’t even told you guys the half of it yet.” 

“There’s more?” Jimin asks between wheezes, hand secured on your knee, as if you’re keeping him tethered to the present. 

“Yeah,” you scoff. “I was a hell-spawn. Probably part of the reason my parents made me get counseling. They probably thought I was possessed.” 

That sends Taehyung into literal guffaws of laughter, tears leaking from his eyes. Jin damn near mirrors him, windshield wiper cackle leaving everyone else following behind them. 

“You have to tell us more about your childhood,” Yoongi begs once the laughter has finally receded long enough for sentences to be formed. 

“Hey, you guys have got to share some stuff with me, too!” You tell him, matching his glance when he turns to look at you. “I don’t know that much about any of you. Aside from a few interviews I’ve seen.” 

“You weren’t ARMY?” Hoseok asks from behind you, his seat and seat belt shared with Namjoon.. Hoseok is back to playing with your hair; his hands are gentle on your scalp, the assuredness of them mixing with the softness of their touch and leaving you to feel as though you were in a state of bliss.

“I listened to Wings when it came out, but some family stuff happened while I was in high school, and I didn’t want to listen to music all that much after that. I just recently started getting back into all of it.” You answer him. 

“I’m sorry you went through a rough time,” Jin tells you from his seat next to Hoseok. “You don’t have to tell us anything right now, or even in the future, but if you ever want to, we’re here. It’s important to us that you know that.” 

You aren’t ready to tell them about your father and the resounding aftershock his passing had on your family, but you do know that at some point, you will want to share your life story in its entirety with them. 

“Thank you, Jin.” You tell him, “I appreciate that.” 

He sends you a gentle smile that melts your soul and tugs at your heartstrings. 

“We will always be here for you.” Taehyung smiles, sitting on the opposite side of Namjoon, eyes sparkling. 

You feel tears threatening to spill, but you don’t let them, taking a deep breath and instead focusing on playing with Jimin’s hair; his head still rested on your lap. You were going to turn into their human pillow. Not that you were complaining. 

“So, how did you guys feel revealing your marks?” You ask, curiosity genuinely piqued. You were expecting them to broadcast them at some point, but their performance still played on repeat in your mind, their left arms extended, and the deep breaths of relief they sighed as the marks came into view of the fans surrounding them.

“I felt free,” Jimin whispers, voice full of emotion and wonder. “I didn’t know how much of a weight it was on my shoulders until I heard everyone screaming. And when we turned around for ‘Magic Shop,’ oh…. It was as if nothing else mattered. There were so many smiles, so many people supporting us, still cheering us on. And there you were,” he continues, voice wistful and swollen with affection, “I saw you sitting in your seat, crying for us. I wanted nothing more than to come to you,” he tells you, turning his head slightly so he can look up into your eyes. The car remains remarkably silent, the members letting Jimin paint his beautiful version of events for you. “I wanted to hold you in my arms and tell you how much you’ve helped us just in the past few days...

“Of course, I couldn’t jump off the stage for you.” Jimin laughs, pinching your cheek, wiping away a few stray tears you hadn’t noticed had escaped. “You looked beautiful. So shocked and emotional for us.” 

“He’s right,” Jin adds. “We could all see you, clear as day. It’s almost as if you were all we could see.” He smiles, “You kept us going, up there. We were a nervous wreck before the show, but Jungkook told us to find you in the crowd and focus on you; that maybe it’d help. It did… So thanks for that, Kookie.” 

Jungkook blushes next to you, turning into his endearing and nervous self. You grip his hand in your spare one that isn’t still running affectionately through Jimin’s slight curls. You squeeze his hand, trying so desperately to convey the rush of emotions Jin’s admission had left you feeling. Jungkook’s squeeze echoes your own, and you know he understands, especially when you see the tears fall from his eyes.

“You guys are amazing.” You choke out, laughing at the heavy emotion and near-sob in your voice. “Ah, I hate crying.” You mumble, “It makes me feel so silly.” 

“Don’t feel silly.” Tae chimes, hand rubbing reassuring circles on your shoulders. “We all cry. Even Jin!” 

“Yah!” Jin shouts, chastising the middle member of the maknae line, but he lets his anger dissipate when he sees the smile bloom across your face, heart swelling. 

“We adore you,” Jimin smiles, pulling your hand from his hair and to his lips, resting the full pout against your wrist, kissing the sensitive skin and sending butterflies fluttering in your ribcage. 

“I adore you guys, too.” You smile, warmth spreading across your cheeks. 

The rest of the car ride is spent in a comfortable and relaxed silence, save for the soft snores Namjoon lets out from his spot in the backseat; his head nuzzled into the crook of Hoseok’s shoulder. 

He takes a bit to wake up once you’re in the parking garage of what you assume to be their hotel. It’s separated from the general public, the few cars scattered throughout its level housing the Big Hit logo on their doors. 

“We’re here?” Namjoon yawns, stretching his lanky legs in the small space he’s confined to in the back of the SUV. 

“Mm,” Jin tells him, stretching his arms above his head. 

“Overwatch! Overwatch! Overwatch!” Taehyung chants, only getting louder once Jungkook joins in. Jungkook hops out of the car first, helping you and Jimin step out behind him. Yoongi takes a minute, putting his face mask over the bottom half of his tired face. 

Jin, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Tae are a literal mess of limbs as they pile out of the back seats, hair in various states of disarray. 

“It’s the young ones' turn to carry the luggage up,” Jin smiles, sending the younger members warning glares when they start to object. “No, no, no,” he chastises, “you guys said you would if we let you eat the last of the mochi.” 

Tae and Jimin are still pouting by the time you reach their suite, clearly not amused by Jin’s apparent selective memory.

“You never remember when you’re supposed to help with the luggage,” Jimin complains, setting his portion of the bags in the entryway. 

“I don’t need to remember when it inconveniences me,” Jin smiles, booping Tae on the nose before he settles into a large sofa in the middle of what you assume can only be the shared living room. “Come sit with me, noona.” He holds his arms out, like a child would, and pouts, “I’m cold.” 

You roll your eyes at his behavior, but curl up to his side nonetheless, thankful for his warmth. 

“You’re not going to play with us, hyung?” Jungkook asks, returning from one of many hallways within the suite, with a small flatscreen television in his hands. 

Taehyung echoes Jungkook’s actions, emerging from an opposite hallway. “Jin isn’t playing with us?” 

“Ah, I never said that.” Jin tells them, “Grab me a controller, and set up the game, I’ll use Yoongi’s account.” 

“Don’t mess with my shit,” Yoongi warns the eldest member, relieving himself of his coat.

Jungkook acquiesces quickly enough, plugging in the various PS4s that he’s miraculously pulled out of a huge duffle bag sitting in the middle of the vast room. 

Your attention is pulled from his deftly working fingers as Yoongi sits next to you, Hoseok and Namjoon sitting opposite you and Jin on the couch. 

“You wanna nap on me again?” You tease him, patting your hip that’s not leaning into Jin’s side. 

“If you insist,” Yoongi smiles, pulling a knit blanket off the back of the couch and snuggling into you without pause. “You’re just so comfy.” He cooes, nuzzling into you. 

You bump your hip against him, relishing in the feeling of his warmth on one side of you, and Jin’s warmth on the other. You’re damn near melting when Jimin settles himself between your feet on the floor in front of you, eating a bowl of ramen he’d brought from the kitchen.

“Who are you going to play as tonight, Kookie?” Tae asks from his corner of the room. 

“Mmmm, probably Widowmaker.” He decides, “What about you?” 

“D.Va, you know she’s my main,” Tae tells his soulmate, selecting the character on his screen. 

“Invite me,” Jin says, careful not to move you and Yoongi while he uses the controller Jungkook had brought him. The notification pops up on the main television screen, and Jin clicks ‘accept,’ entering the lobby. 

“Whose username is ‘Seagull?” You whisper to Yoongi, eyeing the television screen.

“That’d be Kookie,” Yoongi mumbles into your side. 

“Nice,” you giggle. “Username ‘Yoongi,’ pretty straight to the point.”

“Do you know how many friend requests I get per day?” Yoongi peeks up at you through his thick eyelashes, “Too many.” 

“You’re a hot commodity,” you tell him, patting his head. 

“So are you,” he winks. You can swear that for a moment, you forget how to breathe. “Do you wanna see something?” He asks, eyes mischievous. You’re aware of the lusty innuendo beyond his words, and that only excites you more. 

The rest of the guys are too focused on the match that Jin and the two younger members are in, choruses of cheering echoing throughout the room, to pay the two of you any attention anyway.

“Mmm, sure.” You smile. “I’ll be right back,” you tell Jin, doing your best not to nudge him or his controller as you slip out of your spot against his side. He mumbles an okay, far too entranced in his game to wonder where you and Yoongi might be off to. 

Yoongi holds out his hand, leading you out of the shared space and down a hallway to the left of the kitchen. The lights are off, save for the light glow that manages to find its way from the living room to the hall. Yoongi seems unbothered, leading you where he wants to go without tripping over his feet. 

“Here,” he says, pushing open a door. 

You assume that it’s his bedroom, judging by the few black hoodies that are strewn across the bed, and the easily mobile keyboard that sits at the foot of it. The room looks to be constructed around the terrace outside of it, with large glass double doors giving easy access to the large area. It’s pretty jaw-dropping, if you were being honest. But none of it compared to the man who stood before you, or any of the men in the living room. But Yoongi was a mere foot in front of you now, and he pretty much demanded your attention, pulling it from you and onto him like a blackhole. 

Yoongi only mirrors your gaze, staring into your eyes with unwavering devotion, and maybe a tad bit of apprehension. As if the slightest move from him would send you shooting for the hills without a backward glance. 

His hair is disheveled, falling against the planes of his face in a way that would make even the best architecture curl in on itself in shame. His eyes are warm, but clouded with compassion, radiating unspoken intent and unshed emotion that made you feel bare before him. His oversized crewneck sweater engulfs his toned frame, grey sweats probably lamely gripping the hips beneath them. 

“You’re beautiful…” You breathe out, surprised at the slip of words. 

He furrows his brows, probably just as taken aback by your admission as you were yourself. He doesn’t mock you, though. Despite his puckered brow suggesting his confusion, he seems to be moved by your words; a rosy blush painted across his full cheeks, gummy smile warming your heart. 

“I’m beautiful?” He asks, voice matching the breathy tone yours had seconds prior.

“Very.” You answer him, not missing a beat. 

That seems to harden his resolve, the slight apprehension you’d sensed before melting away like a single marshmallow in a cup of hot chocolate. He steps forward, deft and articulate hands enclosing your face within them. Pads of his thumbs running along your cheeks as he gazes into your eyes. 

“Yoongi,” you plead, placing your hands on his. 

He understands the wordless agreement hanging in the air like apples ready to be pulled from their branches. He wets his bottom lip with a swipe of his tongue, leaning in to press his lips ever so slightly against your own. The feeling nearly knocks you backwards, electricity coursing through your veins and lighting you up from the inside, out; warming your soul that’s reaching out so desperately for the piece of it that’s surely echoing its actions within Min Yoongi. 

Your hands drop, instead finding purchase on Yoongi’s sweater, kissing him back sans delay, pulling him tighter against you as you breathe into the kiss, deepening it without even realizing what you were doing. He groans against your lips, minty breath filling your senses. You moan at the sensation, lips parting. His tongue, sweet, warm, and ever euphoric, slides into your mouth; the insistent forcefulness of it all melding with the sweet taste. The heady euphoria. The warmth that was always surely going to be Min Yoongi. 

The giddiness of it all, the absolute overwhelmingly pleasant ecstasy has your head spinning, thoughts running a million miles a minute with ‘how did you not find them sooner,’ and ‘they were here, always.’ Rapturous buzzing within your soul, mixed with the exhilaration of his lips on yours, has you intoxicated; the profound emotion threatening to spin you round and round until you couldn’t tell which direction was up and which was down. 

Somewhere, below the uproarious onslaught of emotions, your heart was hammering against your chest, threatening to burst from the desperation in your kiss. You only part from Yoongi long enough for him to remove his sweater, and for him to peel Jin’s sweatshirt from your upper half, expanse of black lace coming into view with each inch of the hoodie that he pulls from your chest.

The white T-shirt he has on is heavenly, slightly tucked into the sweats that hang off the juncture of his hips. He looks to you, lips swollen from the intensity of your kiss, eyes alight with the desire he held for you. You smile gently at him, understanding wholeheartedly the penchant for you he felt. Just looking at him, breathless, swollen-lipped, lust-blown, and staring at you in wonder had you clenching your core around nothing. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear. But you do, oh, you do. 

You bite at the swell of your lower lip, reveling in the taste of Yoongi that lingered there. His gaze is hot on you, unwavering and leaving your nerves humming in delight. He watches, unblinking, hands itching to reach out and just feel you, as you unhook the clasp on the back of your jumper. 

The slip beneath the lace, a sheer white color, just covers your torso, the skin-tight silk cool against your ever-rising temperature. Yoongi pivots, makes to move closer to you, the desperation to touch you almost unbearable. You can practically taste the torture he’s putting himself through when he doesn’t budge. Dropping your small hands from the silk, you step forward, within his reach. 

“Take it off of me,” you whisper to him, forehead only inches away from his.

His eyes flicker from the tight fabric on your breasts to the heated gaze you watch him with. You’re ready to repeat yourself, fearing maybe he hadn’t heard you, when his hands grip either hip, holding you flush against him. His lips find yours once more, his kiss scorching you to smithereens; his slight moans resonating deep within your body. 

Each frantic kiss, each article of clothing tossed carelessly to the dark ochre of the wooden floor below you, was like a Pandora’s box effect. The deepest parts of your soul and body are glowing and begging to be matched in their vigor by the man currently tethering you to him. 

Only when you feel the cool air of the room nip at the most tender parts of your body do you break away from each other, finally seeing each other. Min Yoongi shone under the moonlight, his tanned skin nearly translucent under the luminosity of the celestial body that shined through the glass expanse of the patio window and into his bedroom. 

To say he was beautiful would be a disservice to his person. To say ethereal would do him no justice either. You were simply left gaping at the captivating man ahead of you, bewitched by the glamour that settled over him in a haze. 

His hand reaches out, moonlit skin grasping onto your own, pulling you with him to the bed that waits below. His chest is sturdy enough for you to brace yourself against him with your hands, holding yourself suspended in the heavy air above him so that you can marvel at him below you, naked and waiting. 

“Are you sure?” He asks you, disappointment nowhere in his tone; only worry. Worry that you were making a mistake. That somehow you’d regret being with him intimately. 

You silence him with an unrestrained kiss, tongue mapping out the layout of his open mouth, tasting him in his totality. Feeling the flutter of his heart below your opened palm that’s still splayed atop his chest, feeling the break of his breathing when you use your free hand to grip the heavy weight of him in your hand, and pump him languidly in your hand, before you finally lead him towards the threshold of your waiting sex. 

"One sec," he mumbles against your mouth, reaching over towards his end table and pulling out a wrapper from the top drawer. "Safety first or whatever shit you Americans say," he tuts.

You laugh, pulling him back into another bruising kiss before lining him up with you again.

He doesn’t thrust into you; he simply waits, letting you take the lead and lower yourself onto him at your own pace. You moan out, feeling the familiar fullness that you’d been missing so much lately, feeling the brush of the head of his cock rubbing against the tenderest crux of you. 

“Yoongi,” you breathe out, pulling him up to meet you in a heated kiss, moaning out when the movement angles him deeper inside of you. 

He nips at your lower lip, using his eager hands to pull you closer against him, as if pulling you any closer and molding you together would make you one person. 

“Please, Yoongi,” you plead, clenching around him, “I need you.” 

He nods, understanding the corporeal need you held for him. “I know, noona,” he cooes, angling his hips ever so slightly before he pistons himself forward, crying out at the stupefying feeling of you tightening and moving around him.

And he doesn’t stop, the snapping of his hips a mantra that he’s more than bent on continuing, especially when he hears your English curses slipping through your parted lips, brows puckered from the delicious pleasure that courses through the two of you as if you were one.

“YN,” he moans, movements becoming more panicked, love bites being pressed against the swell of your breasts, to the ridge of your collarbone. “Baby girl,” he coos, “I don’t know how much longer I can last…” 

You know damn well that you’re close to the apex of your pleasure, each thrust he sends rubbing your clit against his pelvis; the heat in your abdomen growing and growing until you’re nearly bursting into flames from it. 

“I know,” you tell him, tightening your grip on his hair and meeting his wondrous gaze that he’s watching you with; the sight of you naked above him and riding his cock nearly driving him wild. “‘M close,” you groan.

“Come for me, YN,” he tells you, twisting an aching nipple in his hopeful fingers, “Wanna see you come, Baby girl.” 

You feel as though his wish is your command, his rushed words and the slight ministrations of his expert fingers sending you off the edge and into the awaiting abyss. Your hips stutter against his, your cry of pleasure probably alerting the men in the living room to your activities. 

That only makes it more pleasurable, knowing that they’d more than likely heard the pants of Yoongi’s name and the orgasm that had you moaning expletives towards the ceiling of his bedroom. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi moans, spilling himself hot and heavy into your eager cunt, feeling your walls slicken up with his excitement. 

The post-coital high seems to last forever, the two of you collapsed into each other, breathing in pants, and holding each other close.

He breathes, pulling you closer to him. “How are you feeling?” He asks, absentmindedly tracing shapes on your back. 

“Happy…” You smile against his skin, “What about you?” You peer up at him through a mess of your hair, smirking at the gummy smile he wears as he looks up at his ceiling. 

“Amazing.” He replies honestly, “Better than that. I don’t know how to describe it. Did you feel it, too? The connection?” 

“I did.” You smile, kissing him lightly on the lips. “It was amazing. You’re right.” 

He chuckles, adoration tickling his nerves. A knock on the bedroom door knocks the two of you out of your sex-filled reveries. 

“Hey, you guys alive in there?” Comes Tae’s voice. “I miss YN.”

“So do I!” Jimin whines. If you listen closely enough, you can hear 4 additional murmurs of agreement. 

Yoongi looks at you, shrugging his okay with it. “S’up to you,” he tells you.

You’re not at all shocked when you throb at the prospect of the rest of your soulmates seeing you completely sexed out with Yoongi at your side. 

“Come on in,” you answer, shrugging into one of the hoodies on Yoongi’s bed. 

The door opens, and Jin steps in, eyes nearly bulging out of his head when he sees you on the bed. “Holy-” he starts.

“Well shit,” Namjoon finishes for him, looking at you, the rest of the members mimicking his shock until Jimin shakes his head, exiting the bedroom without so much as a backwards glance. 

“What did you do, Yoongs?” Jin murmurs, eyes narrowing at the man next to you. 

“What do you mean?” You ask the eldest, pulling the sheet from the bed so it covers your frame better.

“Do you realize how screwed everything is going to be now?” Jin sighs, running his hand through his hair, looking like he’s on the cusp of a mental breakdown. “This isn’t just about us, this is about YN, too.” 

“I just-” Yoongi starts.

“You just?” Hoseok gapes, hands balled into fists at his sides. “How can you not think about something like this, Yoongi?” 

Jungkook mumbles a weak, “I’m going to check in with Jimin,” before turning on his heels and leaving the room. Tae doesn’t even look your way before he leaves, but the expression you do manage to see on his face leaves you feeling a little embarrassed. Possibly stupid, even. 

“What is going on?” You ask, voice wavering from the nerves beginning to build, your anxiety rearing its ugly head. “Yoongi?” You look to him, spotting the hesitance and guilt lurking beyond his eyes. 

Hoseok and Namjoon look to you with sympathetic expressions, Jin just shakes his head, disapproval evident. 

“Someone, please tell me what’s going on…” You beg, looking to the four men still inside the bedroom, “I’m worried.” 

“Let’s give them some privacy,” Namjoon finally says, voice heavy, “Yoongi, you need to explain it to her.” 

Yoongi sighs, rubbing his hand against the nape of his neck as soon as the three members depart, looking diminished despite the freshly fucked aura that surrounds him. He still refuses to meet your gaze, shrinking in on himself further with each exhale emitted. 

“Yoongi,” you whisper, furrowing your brows when he shakes his head noiselessly, avoiding speaking. “Tell me what’s going on.” 

“I didn’t mean to-- It’s not like I had this planned.” He mumbles, resting his forehead in one of his hands, looking years older and infinitely more exhausted than he truly is. “I wasn’t going to sleep with you tonight. I wasn’t supposed to, at least.” 

“What do you mean?” You ask, scooting away from him, the shift in atmosphere threatening to smother you. 

“I just get so lonely.” He cries, shoulders shaking under the emotional pressure he finally releases. You desperately want to reach out and console him, but your question still hangs in the air, heavy and intimidating. “I’ve felt alone for six years,” he adds, shaking his head in his hands. “It’s not like I haven’t gotten off around here, though. The guys take care of me, Hell, I take care of me,” he explains, not looking up. 

“I love them,” he adds, not wanting to minimize his intricate relationship with his soulmates. “I love them more than anyone in the world. But Namjoon has Hoseok, Jin has Jimin, and Jungkook has Taehyung… They have had their other halves with them since the group’s creation. The connections they have with each other-” he takes a steep and shaky breath, trying to calm himself down. “I couldn’t relate to that. I could want it, but I couldn’t have it. Not for myself. How could I not feel left out?” 

You bite your inner cheek, using all of the restraint you have to not reach out and engulf Yoongi in your arms. You so desperately want to comfort him, seeing how much emotional turmoil he’s dealing with is churning your stomach. You want him to know that he’s enough. That you’re here for him. But you don’t even know why he’s explaining himself, and to say you’re afraid of the reasoning would be an understatement.

“There’s something that happens when twin flames sleep together,” he finally, finally, meets your gaze. You almost wish he hadn’t. He’s far beyond anguished, the pain in his face causing a sob to bubble out of your mouth, tears running icy-cold down your flushed cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry…” he cries. 

“What did you do, Yoongi?” You ask, distressed voice nearly inaudible. 

“I didn’t think,” he answers, voice harsh enough to cut flesh. His head is back in his hands, anger aimed only at himself. “When we slept together, the soul we share rejoined.” He spits out the last word as if it’d cost him his life. 

“What does that mean? Rejoined?” 

“We’re tethered now, YN.” He tells you, “Do you know what that means?” 

“No,” you answer him, confusion coiling around you. 

“It means our soul is as close as it can get to being one again.” He explains, rubbing his hands harshly against his face, as if the action could obliterate the events of the night. He doesn’t want to erase the images of you on top of him, bare breasts bouncing as you buck your hips against his, but if erasing those memories meant that he wouldn’t be putting you through what he’s going to now? He’d happily hit erase it all himself. 

“If we’re apart for too long… if we’re too far away from each other… We’ll be in pain.” Yoongi admits, face still obscured from your view.

“Pain? What do you mean, Yoongi?” You ask.

“It’ll be like we have hot irons in our chests.” He groans, “That’s how Tae and Kookie have explained it to me.” 

“I…” you exhale, likely resembling a deflated balloon. There’s so much you want to say, so much you want to understand. Every time you open your mouth to let a sentence out, you are met with utter silence. 

“I’m so, so, so sorry,” Yoongi whispers, sniffling. 

“You knew this would happen?” You blanch at the realization. They all knew, judging by their earlier reactions. 

“I didn’t think about it…” Yoongi answers, glancing at you, his eyes red and puffy. “I swear, YN, if I had been thinking properly, nothing would have happened. I just got caught up in the moment, and I feel so alone sometimes… and you called me beautiful and it felt like time slowed down-”

His words are rushed, the need to convey his every thought to you weighing him down.

“You guys should have told me before.” You snap, turning to look at him, to see the heartache in his eyes, the guilt that’s threatening to drown the man next to you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“It wasn’t premeditated,” he pleads with you, eyes wishing for you to just sit with him and listen. He wants you to know that he didn’t intend to join with you, at least not yet. Not here. Not when you have to leave so soon. He would never, ever, betray you like that. “I didn’t think we were going to--”

“Stop,” you plead, eyes watering. “Just stop. I can’t do this right now. And I don’t want to hear you say that you didn’t think we were going to have sex. I’ll lose it. I- I need to go to my hotel and figure this shit out.” You mutter, standing up and retrieving your long-discarded clothes. Yoongi doesn’t move to stop you, but the anguished look on his face gives you pause. “I just-- Why didn’t you tell me?” You repeat, tears finally falling from your eyes, because, yes. This hurt. This hurt quite fucking bad, regardless of whether Yoongi intended to screw you or not. 

You weren’t like this. This person? Not you. The YN from Manhattan would never let anyone into her life so… so willingly; would never have sex with a man after three days of knowing him. You have to look at the bigger picture, despite those facts. The seven men inside this hotel suite weren’t just everyday men. These were your soulmates, and the man pleading for your understanding from the hotel bed was even beyond that. He was a part of you. Cut from the same cloth, embroidered on a different quilt. 

But staying here? Discussing his wrongdoing now? You were far too short-tempered to deal with this immediately. You needed space, air to breathe, and a cleansed palette. Yoongi’s heartbroken expression, though, you can’t leave him without at least letting him know that reconciliation wasn’t unimaginable. 

“I need time. I’ll get a hold of you when I’m ready to talk, okay?” You tell him, feeling the hole in your chest open further when he mutters his acceptance and rests his head in his hands, dejection palpable.

You have to tear your concentration from him, pulling the sheet along with you out of the room that had been suffocating you with its heavy atmosphere. Hoseok stands in the hallway, sympathetic eyes on you, which only makes you feel that much more at fault. 

“Bathroom?” You ask, nodding a thanks to him when he points you to the door across the hallway. 

Beyond the whole “joining” betrayal, what stings most is that the rest of the guys saw you. Vulnerable. Ready for whatever they offered. Willing. Lustful. Clueless. 

“YN?” Hoseok knocks against the bathroom door, probably checking to make sure you hadn’t leapt from the top story window. 

“‘M fine…” You sniffle, “Just need a second.” 

“Are you going back to your hotel?” He asks once you finally exit the bathroom, clothed and feeling miserable, Jin’s hoodie back on and Yoongi’s folded neatly on the bathroom counter next to the pristine sink. 

“I need time to be alone and think.” You mumble, wiping a few stray tears from your eyes. Hoseok rests his hands on your shoulders, prompting you to look into his eyes. 

And your dam breaks, your tears running in streams down your face at his gentle demeanor. 

“This isn’t me…” You cry, nuzzling into the shoulder he offers. 

“I know,” he soothes you, petting your head delicately, as if the slightest touch would break you. “We all know,” he coos, “I’m going to ride with you to your hotel and make sure you get there safe, is that okay?” 

You nod your head against him, knowing that you should suck it up and go alone, but you’re too raw to reject Hoseok’s offer. His warmth is needed, a balm to the ache deep in your wounded heart. He’d probably ignore your rejection anyway, go with you just to be sure that you made it back in one piece. 

“Mind if we join you two?” Namjoon asks, leading Jin into the living room where you are locked in Hoseok’s embrace. 

“If you want to go,” you mumble, sobs finally subsiding enough so that you can disentangle yourself from Hoseok. Jin and Namjoon both mirror each other’s expressions, worry etched as clear as day on their faces.

“We do,” Jin nods. 

Jin. His hoodie! You start to wiggle out of it, not wanting him to think you’re stealing his belongings. 

“Keep it,” he tells you gently, stopping you from shrugging out of the warm and stretchy material. “I have four more just like it.” He shrugs, stopping your interjection in its tracks. “It’s cold outside, anyway.” 

“Thank you.” You murmur, hands sliding back into the long sleeves. 

“I’ll call down and let them know we’re taking a car,” Namjoon says, leading the three of you out of the hotel suite and into the hallway.

Whereas the elevator ride to the suite had been loud, happy, and full of jokes, the ride down was flat; melancholy settled into the small space uncomfortably. With the way the three men keep looking at each other, you wonder if the car ride will be spent in the same awkward silence.

“What did he tell you?” Jin asks, answering your unasked question as he buckles himself into the driver’s seat of the expensive car you’d piled into. 

He adjusts the rearview mirror with long fingers before putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the parking garage. You fiddle absentmindedly with a ball of lint on your new hoodie, looking at Jin from the passenger seat you’re sitting in when he comes to a stop at a red light. 

“Everything that you’ve all neglected to tell me.” You mutter, feeling betrayal make way onto your taste buds once again.

“We were going to tell you,” Namjoon says from his back seat next to Hoseok. “We just-- we didn't think we’d need to for a while.” 

“That’s not for you to decide, Namjoon.” You snap, “This is my life. I deserve to know of anything that could uproot it. You should have told me at the restaurant yesterday.” 

“You’re right,” Jin agrees, pressing on the gas as the light goes from red to green. “We should have told you everything from the beginning. We were wrong not to.”

“Thank you.” You mumble, taking a deep breath to steady your temper. “I’m scared.” You admit.

“That’s understandable,” Hoseok tells you, voice soothing. “Why don’t you ask us any questions you have? We’ll answer them honestly. I promise.” 

You’re tempted to snap at him, because how could they expect you to take anything they told you now seriously? Hoseok sighs from the backseat, “There’s no reason for us to lie to you, YN. We don’t want you to hate us. We actually happen to want the opposite of that.” 

“What’s going to happen once I go back to Manhattan?” You ask after waiting a few moments, fearing the answer you’d receive. “Will Yoongi be okay?” Despite the bitter taste left in your mouth after the night’s events, you could never bring yourself not to care about his well-being, because, yes, of course, you felt the connection and affection that ran through the two of you during your tryst between the sheets. You’d be a fool to suggest that you hadn’t.

“We can only really compare it to our own experiences,” Namjoon starts, “there’s only been a handful of times where Hobi and I have been separated for extended periods. A trip home to see our families when the other can’t make it, different flights during tours, stuff like that. We try to stay together as much as we can. The few times we’ve been apart, though…”

“They’re pretty unbearable.” Hobi finishes, voice strained. “But we’ve also been together more than once, and we’ve been around each other for six years regularly.”

“So, the time you’ve been together affects it?” You ask shyly.

“We don’t know,” Namjoon tells you gently. “We haven’t had a reason to experiment with it.” 

“And what happens if you’re apart for too long?” 

“Another answer we can’t give you,” Jin tells you, stopping at another red light. He looks at you, face highlighted by the red glow of the traffic light. “We wish we had more information for you, but we don’t.” He offers you his hand that isn’t tethered to the steering wheel, sighing a breath of relief when you grasp it in your own. “Despite Yoongi’s lapse in judgement, which none of us condone by the way, he would never purposefully cause you harm.” 

“He’s felt left out for the past six years,” Namjoon agrees, “we love him, and he loves us, but he also had to see us every day for the past six years with our twin flames. He didn’t complain to us about it, but we aren’t stupid. We could see the way it affected him. How it affected his work.” 

“After you left the restaurant yesterday, he could hardly contain himself,” Hoseok tells you, squeezing your shoulder gently. “I’ve never seen Yoongi look like that.” 

“Like what?” You ask.

“Free.” Hoseok smiles, “like he could relax and breathe for the first time in six years. We could see all of the worry just… disappear. Like magic.” 

You feel the newly familiar tug on your heartstrings, imagining Yoongi in the restaurant, your soulmates around him, watching you leave with wonder, proximity to you leaving him dazed.

“The thing about Yoongi that you have to understand,” Joon starts, “is that he always used to act on his emotions. He would let them get the best of him, which sucked at times… But he learned to hold himself back and take a beat. He thought he’d never find his other half. He actually gave up on the idea completely last year. He also never complained about it. It’s part of the reason why we love him so much. So when we finally found you ... I haven’t seen him light up like that in a long while.” 

“I don’t blame him,” you tell them, running your hand that isn’t intertwined with Jin’s through your hair. “I understand how tricky emotions can be, trust me. I’ve made some shitty decisions because of my feelings, too.” 

“You just need time,” Jin says, squeezing your hand reassuringly, his ability to put into words what you’re feeling leaving you smirking.

“Yeah. I think I do.” You agree, looking out at the twinkling city lights of Seoul. “This all is just moving so fast, which I’m not against, I just need a minute to collect my thoughts and whatnot…” You drift off, remembering the looks on three of the members' faces before they had left you in Yoongi’s bedroom. Jimin’s pained expression had especially resonated with you. “Is Jimin mad at me?” 

“Not mad,” Namjoon answers you, yawning. “None of us are upset. We just had hopes that this would all play out differently. We thought we’d have more time with you, that you wouldn’t have to hop on a plane and leave the continent within a few weeks. We didn’t think we’d have to explain tethering and everything else so soon.” 

“Not that you're living in New York is bad,” Jin reassures you.

“I get it,” you tell him. “Trust me, I know how much easier all of this would be if I lived here.” You chuckle dryly, “someday, though.” 

Jin squeezes your hand, pulling up to the entrance of your hotel. “We have all the time in the world. Don’t rush yourself.” 

You smile shyly at him, blushing further when he rests a kiss against your knuckles. 

“I’ll see you guys soon.” You promise them, nodding towards Hoseok and Namjoon.

Much to your surprise, Elle is still awake. 

“I’ve been calling you all night!” She shouts, “Powell wants to Skype us in the morning.” 

“Why?” You ask her, pulling a water bottle from the mini fridge in the living room and sitting with Elle on the couch. “Did we do something wrong?” 

“From what I’ve heard, no. However, the anticipation for our article has M-Buzz blowing up right now.” Elle tells you, smiling widely. “There’s probably an extension or something of the sort.” 

“An extension? I doubt that’s the case. Maybe a pay raise? More credit in the bylines?” You offer, taking a deep swig of your water. “Something that’ll have Andrew shitting his pants.” 

“Andrew’s a bitch.” Elle rolls her eyes. “Anyways, I was staying up to let you know. Now that you’re here, I can finally get some damn sleep.” 

“Wake me up when you do!” You shout down the hall at her, “We’ll call Powell then.” 

“Aye, aye, captain!” You hear her yell back. 

It takes mere nanoseconds for you to realize that you won’t be getting good sleep. The slight tug and burn in your chest is a constant reminder of the situation you were finding yourself in. You told Yoongi you needed time, and that’s true. You do need to reflect. But the need for him is heavy and outweighs the hesitance, and before you even know it, your phone is in your hand and the text chain is open.

YN: You awake?

Yoongi: Yeah, can’t sleep yet.

YN: Me too. 

Yoongi: I’m sorry.

Yoongi: About everything. 

Yoongi: I was an idiot, and I didn’t think. It wasn’t fair of me, and there’s no excuse for it. I just need you to know that I wasn’t trying to trap you here. Or hurt you. Not intentionally, at least.

YN: I know. 

YN: I won’t lie and say everything’s fine, because I’m still trying to come to terms with it all.

YN: But I do forgive you, Yoongi.

Yoongi: Thank you so much.

Yoongi: You don’t know how much that means to me. 

Yoongi: I’ve been a mess since you left.

YN: Do you feel it, too?

Yoongi: Yeah. Think it’s why I can’t sleep.

YN: Same.

YN: It’s going to be worse than this when I leave, isn’t it?

Yoongi: ...yeah. I’m sorry.

Yoongi: I’m just so fucking sorry.

YN: We’ll have to figure something out. 

Yoongi: I know. I’ll have to run it over with the company, but I’m optimistic they’ll support it.

Yoongi: I’ll fly out even if they don’t approve. I’ll do anything to make this right.

YN: Just no more surprises… Okay?

Yoongi: I swear.

YN: I’m going to try and sleep, you should do the same. Night, Yoongi.

Yoongi: I will. Night. 

“Up and at ‘em, girl!” Elle shouts, tossing a pillow carelessly at your face. 

“That was uncalled for,” you snap at her, crawling out of the fluffy hotel bed and blinking the morning light out of your eyes. 

“We have to call Powell, and then we’ve got some shopping to do.” 

“Shopping?” You question, skepticism leaking into your tone. 

“Yep! Shopping. I want to check out some of the boutiques before we leave for Busan.” She smiles, “Maybe we’ll find some cute outfits for the concerts.” 

“Fine,” you agree, “but only because you insist. I’ll get ready and meet you in the kitchen?” You offer.

“Sounds good to me,” Elle smiles, walking out of your room with a skip in her step. 

You don’t take too long preparing yourself for the day, opting for a plaid skirt you’d had since high school, and a button-up white dress shirt. You put your hair in a lazy bun and go light on the face makeup, only wearing a nude-toned lipstick and mascara. 

Elle waits, as she has the past few mornings, breakfast ready and a smile on her face. 

“Have I told you yet that I’m really enjoying it here?” She asks, sipping at her mug of coffee. 

“Only a hundred times,” you answer her, taking your mug off the kitchen counter and filling it with your favorite liquid caffeine. “Are we going to use your phone or mine to call Powell?” You ask, sipping tentatively at the slightly bitter drink.

“We can use mine,” Elle shrugs, setting her mug on the counter. You follow suit, waiting for her Skype app to load. Once it does, she clicks your boss’ username. You’re surprised she’s still awake; it’s roughly 11 pm there. 

“Great, you guys called!” Powell’s voice states, before she comes into view on her phone screen. Seeing her outside of her work persona is slightly jarring; her work clothes have long been replaced by her silk pajamas. 

“Of course! You’d said it was important,” Elle replies. 

“It is,” Powell replies. “You guys have no idea how hectic things are over here. We’ve got secondary news sources practically begging for insight on the concert last night. Poor Cam’s been having to dismiss them before they can even get their names out.”

“That’s great to hear, though!” You smile. “We’ve got a lot of content we can work on when we return.” 

“That’s the thing,” your boss smiles, “if we continue to get publicity like this, we can upsize. We kind of want to jump the ball on everything.” Powell explains. “So, I was hoping that you’d take up an offer I have for you,” she looks to you, waiting.

“And the offer is?” You ask, nerves prickling.

“M-Buzz would like to formally offer you the position of head reporter.” Powell smiles. 

You blanch, completely taken aback by her words. 

“Are you sure?” You ask, avoiding the blinding smile Elle is sending your way. “This job isn’t even through yet-” 

“Ah, nonsense. Give yourself some credit, YN. You’re gifted. Any article you’ve published has received more than twice the feedback that most of our other reporters get on two of their articles.” She laughs. “So, what do you say?” 

“I mean, I’d be stupid to turn it down. Of course I’ll take it.” You smile, heart thumping wildly beneath the swell of your breast. 

“Great! I’ll fax the forms to HR tomorrow, and we’ll get everything finalized once you get back from the tour.” 

“Sounds good.”  You tell her, smiling kindly. 

“Oh, and Elle?” Powell asks, stopping herself from ending the call. 

“Yes?” Elle asks, eyes finally peeled from you and back towards your boss. 

“Since YN’s position will be opening up, we were wondering if you’d like to take over--”

“Yes!” Elle shouts, jumping up and down in the middle of the kitchen. “I’d love to!” 

“Alright!” Powell chuckles, “I’ll fax that paperwork over to HR as well. Congratulations, you two. I’ve been rooting for you guys since you started working with us.”

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Powell! We won’t let you down.” Elle smiles, chirping her goodbye to Powell, which you echo. 

Only when Elle calms down long enough to go and get ready for your shopping spree do you think about your actions. You’d accepted a promotion. A fucking promotion. Despite having seven soulmates living on the other half of the planet, you’d accepted the position without so much as a second thought. 

Of course, you’d wanted this position. This was what you’d been aiming for since starting to work for M-Buzz. You always wanted credit, praise, commendation, acclaim for your work… but now you felt you couldn’t even fully appreciate the accomplishment. Because despite the happiness you’d typically be feeling by now, you were worried about what the guys would think. 

Would Yoongi be upset? Would Namjoon and Jin judge you for such a split-second decision that would keep you anchored in New York? How would Hobi even respond to the news? And the youngest members… Would Jimin, Tae, and Koo even be able to look at you? 

It’s not like you felt remorseful or regretted the decision you’d made, but you had more to think about now. You had other people to think about now. You couldn’t ignore that, or them. You’d need to explain yourself and figure everything out. 

Especially when you consider now being tethered to Yoongi. That you would feel guilty about. You’d put him into a situation without considering his emotions. His pain. If you were a bitter person, you wouldn’t care, given the events of last night. But you’re YN LN, and you’re hardly even the slightest bit bitter. And now? Well, now you feel horrible for being so quick to decide. Realistically, you should have waited for an answer until you could go back to New York and explain everything that had happened during the tour to Powell. Realistically, you should be lightening your workload after the tour so that you can move to South Korea. 

There are so many ‘you should’ scenarios running through your mind, it’s close to making the room spin, and your stomach tighten. You need to tell them. Sooner rather than later.

You pull out your phone, enter the group chat, and send them a quick text. 

YN: Hey, if you guys aren’t busy tonight, there’s some stuff I need to talk to you about. 

Hobi: Is everything ok?

Joon: We’ll be free to talk after a few interviews we have, probably around 9 pm or so.

YN: Sounds good. I’ll meet you guys at your hotel then?

Joon: Works for us. :) 

Jin: Yeah.

You’re sad that Yoongi, Jimin, Tae, and Kookie don’t reply, but you know that Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jin will tell them. 

“You ready to go?” Elle asks, sliding into her ankle boots. 

“Yep.” You tell her, grabbing your hotel key off the granite countertop and following her out the door. 

The first few stores Elle drags you to are quick stops, cute knick-knacks and baubles sitting prettily on glass shelves. You can’t help but buy a trinket for each soulmate you’ll be seeing tonight, the oddities suiting the men you were surely falling for so well. It’s when you’re looking at the more hidden shelves that you come up with an idea that you pray will help alleviate the tension with the maknaes. You grab the items you think are perfect for the job and head to the antique shop’s counter. The elderly woman behind it is smiling kindly at you. 

“Will you need a gift bag?” She asks, running the cute trinkets over the scanner on the countertop. 

“Yes, please.” You smile, handing her your debit card. Nothing you picked was too valuable, the total hardly making a dent in your checkbook. 

“Hm, guilt gifts?” Elle asks, stepping out of the shop with you in tow. 

“Of the sort,” you answer her, blushing. “I’m going to have to tell them about the promotion tonight.” You explain, shaking your head. “I feel bad for accepting it without even considering them.” 

“Why? Won’t they be happy for you?” Elle asks, perplexed. 

“I dunno,” you tell her. “It’s going to keep me cemented in New York for a bit. I can’t imagine they’d be too ecstatic.” 

“Ah, that makes sense, I guess.” She replies lamely, kicking at a rock on the sidewalk while you wait for the crosswalk light to change from the red hand to the green walking symbol.

You can feel the ache inside your vessel grow stronger with each step you take towards the stores Elle is leading you to; the dull throbbing growing slowly as you walk further downtown. Yoongi’s surely feeling it, too. You pull out your phone, checking the handful of group texts you’ve missed. 

Hobi: Jaaaagi 

Hobi: She never said whether she’s okay or not. :((((

Jin: If she weren’t, Yoongi would feel it. You know that.

Yoongi: I think she’s feeling sad.

Hobi: Sad? Why?

Yoongi: Dunno. Let her tell us.

You thumb out of the group text and turn your phone off, guilt bubbling. They were bound to get nervous regardless of what you had sent them. And if you text them back now, you’ll just end up spilling, telling them all about your new position when you know that it should be said to their faces. 

“Where to next?” You ask Elle, hoping for a distraction. She gives you one gladly, pulling your bag-clad hand and leading you into a boutique with mannequins everywhere. 

“My arms hurt,” you pout. You’ve been in and out of shops all day, and have spent at least two weeks’ pay on cute clothes and ornaments you’d decorate your townhouse back home with. 

“The Lyft should be here soon,” Elle tells you, checking the app on her phone. “It says they’re on this street. It’s just a matter of that damn traffic light changing.”

“What time is it?” You ask her, sighing in relief when a car pulls up to the curb and honks. 

“About 6:30, why?” 

“I’m going to see the guys and tell them about work at nine,” you answer, putting your bags in the trunk that the Lyft driver pops open for you. 

“Maybe you should pack a bag? In case it’s too late when you guys are done talking?” Elle suggests, buckling her seatbelt while you give the driver the hotel name. 

“Probably,” you agree, fidgeting with your fingers atop your lap. “I have enough outfits now,” you smile. “Will you be okay tonight alone? I feel bad leaving you again.” 

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll just Skype Cam.” 

“Skype Cam?” You ask, wiggling your brows.

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up. We just started to talk. It’s not like it’s going anywhere.” 

“You’re soulmates,” you sing, nudging her. “It’s supposed to go somewhere.” 

“I think we’re both nervous.” She admits, biting her bottom lip. “He’s never been in a serious relationship, and after what happened with Adam… I don’t know if I’m ready.” 

“Elle, I’m going to support you with whatever decision you make, you know that, right?” You ask her, securing one of her hands in yours. “There’s no pressure for you to be with anyone. You’re the only one who can choose what’s best for you. I just enjoy irritating you.” 

“You enjoy irritating anyone,” she grumbles, yanking lightly at your bun.

“You’re right about that.” 

“Of course I am. I know you better than most people. It’s something I take pride in,” she giggles. “You’re pretty much a closed book around anyone and everyone.” 

“I slept with Yoongi,” you admit, twiddling with her fingers.

“You what now?” Elle gapes, eyes triple their typical size. “I’m sorry, I must have misheard you. I thought you said that you slept with Yoongi…” 

“Yep.” You say, popping the ‘p’ for extra effect. 

“I-I mean- wow.” Elle croaks. “Congrats.” 

She looks at you, still shocked and completely bewildered by your flip in character, and then laughs. Which makes you laugh. Which probably irritates the driver, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Tears are springing from your eyes, and your stomach is positively aching by the time you pull into the hotel parkade.

“Thanks!” You tell the driver, hopping out and retrieving your bags from the trunk with Elle. 

“Wow.” She repeats as the elevator doors close. You side-eye her, and then the two of you collapse in fits of laughter again. 

“Who knew a trip to South Korea was what you needed to loosen up?” she coughs out, wiping stray tears from her eyes. 

“I’m not that uptight, am I?” You ask.

“I mean… Yeah.” She answers you before gripping your shoulder affectionately. “It’s okay, dude. I’ve never held it against you.” 

“Well, gee. Thanks.” You giggle. “I didn’t know I was that much of a party pooper. Maybe I should get laid more often.” 

“You do realize you have seven soulmates, right? It’s perfect. One for each day of the week.” 

And you’re both erupting into laughter once more. 

It’s half past nine when you get a text from Yoongi, telling you he’s in the parkade waiting for you. Your stomach flips in anticipation. You’ve already sworn to yourself that you won’t tell any of the boys alone. They will all be with you when you finally tell them about your promotion. 

He didn’t need to send the text; you could tell he was close when the dull pain in every fiber of your body finally seemed to dissipate. The pain gives way to excitement and equanimity. 

The BMW i8 is lean, dark, and sexy, matching Yoongi pretty well. He hops out of the car when he sees you, hoodie covering most of his face. What isn’t covered by the warm garment is cloaked by the air mask he wears, and the dark sweats that hang off the ‘v’ of his hips. 

“Hey,” you tell him, surprising him when you pull him into a hug, your chest that he remembers naked above him pressed flush against his own.

“Hi,” he whispers, melting into your touch. Neither of you had quite realized how much you missed the other. 

When you finally disentangle yourselves from each other, he leads you to the passenger door, opening it for you. The butterfly doors shock you at first, and you want to admire them, but there’s time for that later. You allow Yoongi to help you into the car and buckle you in, appreciating the intimacy of the gestures.

He slides smoothly into the driver’s seat, headband keeping his unruly hair from interfering with his vision. 

“How was your day?” He asks, the engine roaring to life at the touch of a button. 

“It was good, I went shopping with Elle and bought some clothes.” You smile, remembering the gifts you shoved into the backpack at your feet, along with a change of clothes and a few makeup products. “How was yours?” 

“Stressful,” he admits, pulling out of the parking garage. “We had three interviews today alone, and the interviewers only asked questions about the soulmate reveal. I get it, we did kind of make a thing out of it. I just wish people would let our personal lives be kept personal. We got asked at least eight times if we’re all fucking.” He scoffs. “That’s nobody’s business but ours. And yours.” 

You smile softly at him, “That’s completely understandable, Yoongi.” 

“I’m just so exhausted of everyone bleeding us dry when it comes to our personal shit.” He grumbles, hands on the steering wheel, tightening their grip. 

The slight motion catches your eye, and before long, you realize that, yep, you have a hand kink. Min Yoongi’s hands could render you transfixed for hours, you’re sure of it. The deftness to them, the long slender fingers, the perfectly manicured nails… Fuck. You can see veins and muscles, which only turns you on further. His knuckles stick out from the grip he has, skin turning nearly translucent from the strain. And the rings he wears… Could you have a ring kink? The jewelry is sinful against the milky tone of his hands under the moonlight. You can imagine them catching on your cunt as he curls his fingers inside of you, rubbing them expertly against your soft spot while the palm of his hand rests hot and heavy on your clit. Orgasm building while you beg for him to just fuck you senseless-

“Like what you see?” Yoongi quips, pulling you from your sex-filled reveries. 

You blush deeply, looking out of the car window to try and hide your embarrassment. 

“Don’t hide from me, doll…” Yoongi nearly whines, one of his hands finding yours, the deft fingers you’d thought of so sensually moments prior winding with your own. “I don’t like it when you hide from me.” 

Your soul warms at his touch, probably purring on the couch of your heart, the damn bitch.

“You’re the one who called me out for admiring you,” you quip, biting on your lower lip.

“When you look at me like that, it turns me on.” He explains, shrugging as if he hadn’t just said something damning. “And I’m trying to take things slowly from now on.” 

“Why?” You nearly pout; his words bruise you, despite what you’d said to him last night. You had pretty much told him you’d need time, but here you are, with Min Yoongi in his BMW, imagining the ways he could make you scream his name just using his fingers. 

“You know why,” he replies softly, squeezing your hand. “If you want to sleep with the others, that’s fine, I heavily support it. They’re talented. I just don’t want our connection to run deeper than it already is… you’re leaving after the tour and, well… it’s going to be hard enough.” 

His explanation only makes your heart bruise further, especially knowing what you’d be telling all of them soon. Here Yoongi was, trying desperately to make things easier for both of you so that you’d be comfortable, and you’d accepted a job offer in New York that’d keep you there for an extra year, at least.

His thumb traces absent-minded patterns across the top of your hand for the rest of the drive to their hotel. The only sound emitted for the rest of the ride is the classical piano that Yoongi has playing at a comfortable volume. Being with him is easy, you note. As easy as breathing. You’d felt it with the others, too. 

It’d be so damn easy to just quit your job and move here, find a job while they tour. But you were dedicated to your profession, regardless of the magnetic pull that the boys had on you. It wouldn’t be fair to leave M-Buzz. Or to leave Elle to trudge through the article alone.  

“Finally!” Hoseok squeals, opening the door to reveal you and Yoongi. Yoongi had been pulling his keys from his pocket when his chipper hyung had swung open the hotel door. “We missed you!” He shouts, pulling you into a hug. 

“You saw me last night,” you laugh, hugging him back. “But I missed you, too.” 

Jin and Namjoon are sitting on the couch, Jin reading a book with earbuds in (how the hell can he do that?) while Namjoon types furiously on his laptop. His focus is intimidating, and you try your best not to draw him from it while Yoongi and Hoseok go to retrieve the others. 

You can hear the raised voices of assumedly Jimin and Hobi, and you shrink slightly in on yourself; knowing fully well that they’re likely arguing about you. You can’t make out what they’re saying, but the tone rings real and true. It’s a disagreement, and not a lighthearted one. 

“Do they ever shut up?” Namjoon whines, breaking concentration from his laptop. His eyes go wide when he sees you sitting across from him. “YN!” He beams, discarding his laptop and leaping towards your portion of the couch. “When did you get here?” He asks, hugging you tightly against his broad chest. 

“A few minutes ago,” you chuckle, trying to hug him back the best you can. His arms are strong, and the grip they have on you prevents you from moving much. 

“I didn’t see or hear you come in,” he pouts, releasing you from his warm embrace. “I was too busy emailing our events coordinator. Everyone’s pissed about us revealing our marks.” 

“Wait- what? You didn’t run it by Big Hit first?” You gape. You can just barely make out the moment when Namjoon mentally slaps himself. 

“‘Bout that… We kind of had a contract with them saying that we wouldn’t reveal them.” He mumbles.

“A contract?” You ask. He nods. “But you did it anyway?” Another nod. “The fuck?” A shrug.

“We were getting tired of hiding. It made us feel like freaks.” Joon explains. 

“I’m not ‘the fuck-ing’ you guys,” you rush out, “what kind of company makes their performers sign a contract stating they were not to reveal their marks?” 

“They said it secured us more publicity. We were all mostly kids when we signed on, didn’t think much of it.” He explains dryly. “But it got pretty lonely pretty quickly. Not being able to hold hands in public unless it was for show on Run! Felt pretty shitty.” 

“Clearly,” you muse, shaking your head in distaste. “I’m sorry you guys had to go through that. It’s great that you took a stand, though.” You smile.

“Is it?” Jimin asks, strutting into the living room with the rest of the guys behind him. Tae and Kookie don’t meet your gaze, but Jimin does. You don’t miss out on the irritation that shines brightly in his gaze. 

“I think so, yes.” You answer him.

“We didn’t even reveal your initials.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “The backlash we’re facing right now...” 

“Yah! Don’t take it out on YN, Jimin!” Hoseok growls, swatting the younger man upside his silver-haired head. “It’s not her fault that we’re in trouble. She didn’t make us do anything.” 

“I know,” Jimin relents. His gaze softens on yours, but only slightly. You can still see hurt simmering beyond his brown irises. “I’m sorry, YN. I shouldn’t take it out on you.” 

“It’s okay, Jimin. I just don’t understand the backlash you guys are getting. I’ve actually been pointedly avoiding the internet for that reason.” 

“It’s just a bunch of bullshit articles, anyways,” Tae growls, picking at his sweater.

“Our public image is important, Taehyung.” Jungkook groans, rubbing a hand tiredly across his face. 

“If the public can’t respect destiny, then fuck public image.” Tae spits.

“Do you like the money you’re paid?” Yoongi quips, sitting behind you and Namjoon. Jin, bless his heart, finally seems to sense the change of atmosphere and pulls out his earbuds. 

“Hey!” He shouts, mirroring Namjoon’s earlier response and flying to your side. Now you’re sandwiched between him and Joon, Yoongi sitting slightly behind you on the large piece of furniture. 

“It’s not all about the money,” Tae argues, ignoring Jin’s outburst. “I don’t want the money if I can’t express myself.” 

“We understand that, Taehyung. But we’re locked into contracts. We can’t just do whatever we want, despite how much we want to.” Jungkook tries to reason with him, but Tae just shakes his head and settles his focus on you.

His eyes are blazing; you can’t even begin to decipher the emotions behind them. You’re not scared of him, despite his cold demeanor, you know in your heart that none of them would ever harm you.  

“Why are you here?” He quips. Well, maybe not hurt you physically. Emotionally? Seemed like that was fair game. 

“I need to talk to you guys,” you answer him. “I got offered the lead reporting position at M-Buzz today.” 

“That’s great!” Hobi cheers, sitting on the opposite side of Namjoon.

“Yeah, that’s great, sweetheart.” Jin smiles, hugging you tightly against him once more.

“I took it.” You add.

“Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t you?” Hobi deadpans.

“Because it’s in New York…? You guys are here?” 

“And?” Joon questions.

“What do you mean, ‘and?’ It means I’ll be in New York for at least another year.” You explain. 

“Okay?” Jin replies. “We knew that you’d be going back. You’d already told us as much.” 

“But don’t you guys want me to move here?” You ask, confused. 

“Of course, we want you to move here,” Namjoon tells you. “But we don’t expect you to drop everything and move immediately. You have a life in New York. We’ve told you that we understand that. You can’t put everything on pause for us.” 

“But the tethering-”

“We will visit you, and you will visit us.” Yoongi shrugs. “We’re planning on a US tour within a few months or so anyway.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” He reassures you, “You don’t have to put anything on the back burner for us, YN. Ever.” 

“Thank you guys…” You mumble, tears building in your eyes. “Oh! I almost forgot. I brought you guys presents.” 

Despite their lack of interest in looking your way, you can see the way the younger men's eyes light up at your announcement. 

“I just need my backpack.” You chirp, going to stand up.

“I got it,” Jin tells you, already halfway across the living room. 

“Thank you,” you tell him once he returns and hands it to you. “Okay, let’s see here.” 

You pull the first bauble from the bag, feeling the shape, and hand it to Jin. You hand the next one to Hobi, and then Tae, Koo, Joon, Yoongi, and finally Jimin. They all look at you with childish impatience, “go ahead,” you tell them, giggling. 

They all cry out in excitement when they see what you’ve bought them. Jimin clutches the calico cat figurine tightly against his chest, cooing in adoration at the inanimate object. Jungkook mirrors him with the bunny figurine you’d found for him. Tae looks smitten with the ‘Starry Night’ plaque you’d found, and even sends you a shy smile. 

Jin’s giggling at the eccentrically designed glass-chopsticks you found for him, the flames painted on them bringing tears to his eyes. Hobi is looking at the sunflower cross-stitch in a frame that you’d found for him with glossy eyes.  Namjoon is very invested in the looking glass you’d found him, using it to examine the cracks in his hands. Yoongi looks amazed at the 88-key miniature model piano you bought him, the brown lacquer of it glistening under the room’s lighting. 

“Thank you!” Jin chirps, wacking the two chopsticks together like they’re drumsticks. 

“Yes, thank you!” Jimin smiles. 

The rest of them echo their thanks, and you’re aware of the way Yoongi gravitates toward you, hand finding your own and holding onto it tightly.

“Listen, I know you three are upset with me-” You start, looking to the three youngest members. “So I got you guys something extra.” You smile, tossing them their additional gifts. They all shout in delight when they unwrap the special edition Pokémon figurines you’d scouted at the antique store. 

“These are amazing, YN! But, upset?” Jimin asks, voice heavy. “We’re not upset.” 

“Jimin…” Kookie warns. 

“We’re hurt.” Jimin finishes. 

“You’re…. Hurt?” You ask, confused. 

“Yes. Hurt. You hurt our feelings.” Tae adds, picking at a nail, not so much as looking in your general direction now that the spirit of your gift giving has died down.

“How? What did I do?” 

“Well, you slept with Yoongi, so we’re assuming you kissed him. Without inviting us.” 

You blanch at that, heart racing. “I- what?” 

“You heard me,” Tae mumbles, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s why you guys have been giving everyone hell?” Namjoon asks, baffled. “You’re hurt that YN didn’t ask you to kiss her?” 

“Yoongi said that he wouldn’t sleep with her until she moved here because of the tethering,” Jungkook speaks up, defending his lovers and himself. “He said that if that were what YN wanted, we could talk to her about it. All of us. Together.”

You’re positively dumbfounded. 

“What-” 

“We weren’t upset with you, YN. We’re upset with Yoongi.” Jimin pouts. “And we feel left out.” 

“Oh…” You exhale, fearing you’ll forget how to breathe if they all don’t stop looking at you like a meal, because, yes. That’s what the shift in conversation has led to. 

“Plus, you missed out on our game. We won, by the way, because Jimin managed to snag Jin’s controller and help us.” Tae smirks. 

“Congratulations…” You breathe out, labored pants hardly escaping your puckered lips. 

Jimin side-eyes his two maknaes, standing up and motioning for them to do the same. The hyungs, as if they were one damn person, all retreat from you, knowing smirks on their faces. 

“We’d like a prize,” Jimin tells you, wicked smirk on his beautiful face as they step towards you.

“Wh- what kind of prize?” You gape, enraptured by the three beautiful men strutting towards you.

“To taste you,” Jimin replies steadily, voice needy. “Just a kiss. If you want more, we might consider giving it to you.” 

“Okay.” You acquiesce. 

You’re pleasantly surprised when Jimin side-steps, motioning for Tae to take the lead. Taehyung is shocked himself, looking to Jimin as if to ask if he’s sure. Jimin nods, a boyish smile gracing his features. 

Taehyung takes a deep breath and steps toward you; his earlier tough exterior fading away. 

“Are you sure about this?” He asks, only a millimeter between your lips and his. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” 

“Tae,” you say, and he meets your gaze. “Kiss me.” 

It’s as if your words have awakened something deep inside the brunette. His hands, warm and sturdy, gently cup your face, thumbs rubbing your cheeks as they heat up. His eyes are soft on yours. 

His thumb traces the swell of your warmed cheeks, following it down to your jawline, and up to your bottom lip. The pad of his thumb rubs lightly at the soft skin, pulling your lip ever so slightly, until you’re practically buzzing from anticipation. You let out a shaky breath, thankful an entire moan hadn’t slipped. 

“You haven’t even kissed her, and she’s coming undone.” Jimin praises him, “Show her how good it can feel to be with us, Taehyung.” 

You’re thankful you’re sitting on the couch, because had you been standing, your knees would have buckled when Tae’s lips finally pressed against your own. They’re warm, expertly molding against yours, and it takes only a slight intake of breath on your end before his tongue is sliding against yours, minty flavour greeting you excitedly. 

You moan against Taehyung’s hot mouth, relishing in the feeling of him tightening his grasp on you, keeping you pressed firmly against him as he barricades you into the couch. He sighs, lifting you onto his lap once he finally seats himself, letting his hands fall from the edges of your face so that he can tangle them in your hair, tugging lightly.

The overwhelming bliss that you feel when he tugs at your hair has you whimpering against his swollen lips, rocking lightly against his thigh that you’re straddling, the thick muscle beneath the jeans he wears rubbing heavenly against your scantily clad sex. The plaid skirt you wear rides up your thighs from the movement, air hitting your ass as the fabric gives way to your skin, cotton panties that are a size too small leaving not much to the imagination of the men watching you and Taehyung. 

You hear harsh intakes of breath, and a small mutter of “fuck,” from behind you, but you’re too overwhelmed by the taste and feeling of Taehyung to pay anyone else any mind. 

There’s a shift in the couch next to you, and then another, and you finally part from Taehyung’s eager mouth to look to Jungkook and Jimin. Both of which have settled into the couch on either side of you and Tae. 

“I want a turn,” Jungkook pouts, holding his arms out for you to take. 

Tae helps lift you off of his lap so that you can hover over Jungkook, gripping the Golden Maknae’s hands in your own. He smiles shyly at you, the heat behind his eyes melting your cunt. 

“Come here,” he breathes, pulling you into his lap. You lace your arms around his neck adoringly, pressing a light kiss to his nose. “I hope you don’t think that’s all you’re giving me.” He grins, pulling you gently by your chin until your lips are ghosting across his. 

You’re the one who presses your lips against his, tasting the Chapstick he loves so much on his open mouth. You shiver, melting into him when he grabs one of your hips in a strong hand, the other palming tentatively at your chest. You arch into his chest, head swimming from the feeling of Jungkook’s tongue running soft and slickly against yours, his hands adding a new pleasure as they grip and tug at the sensitive parts of your body. 

Your hips grind against his, wet panties rubbing against the tent in his sweatpants. You can feel the heat of his erection, his cock begging to be released from the harsh cotton confines. Jungkook moans, pinching a nipple through your button-up and biting down on your bottom lip lightly. 

There’s a slight gasp from the opposite end of the couch, and you look with sexed eyes as Hoseok readjusts himself through his joggers. 

“No, eyes on us.” Jimin orders, beckoning you onto his lap with his pointer finger. 

You crawl over the muscled thighs of Jungkook and Taehyung, eager to please the young dancer. 

“Good girl,” Jimin praises you, feeling him swell when you whimper at his approval and position yourself over him, as you had done with Jungkook.

Jimin isn’t nearly as nervous or innocent as the other two, you know that much as soon as he locks his eyes on yours, the intent behind them is deafening. He snakes a hand up your bare thighs, lifting the skirt to your hips where it stays. 

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” He asks the room. 

There’s murmurs of approval, breathy pants at the sight of you leaving your cunt aching for contact. “No, eyes on me. It’s rude to look elsewhere,” Jimin chastises you, stopping your moving neck. You whine at the grip, trying to grind down on him, but his arms lock you into place, and he clicks his tongue at you. 

“Look at me, baby.” He orders you, releasing your throat from his hand. 

You do, nearly combusting from what you see. His eyes are hot and wanting on yours, mirroring the desperation you have for him. 

“Don’t look at them when you’re with me like this.” He pleads, and you can see the genuineness in his words. Your heart aches. Did he truly not understand the effect he had on everyone? 

“Only you, Jimin,” you whisper, seeing the enamored look he has for you mix into his hot expression. 

“Good girl,” he smiles, pulling your mouth against his. 

His kiss is hot and heavy, his dominance leaking onto his tongue and saliva and mixing heavenly with yours. He tastes like cinnamon and passion, his hands pulling you tight against him and keeping you caged to his chest. 

You wouldn’t mind being a prisoner here, you tell yourself. 

You grab blindly at his hoodie, wanting nothing more than to rip the fabric off of him. 

“Patience,” Taehyung cooes, his hand running along your spine while Jimin explores your heaving chest. 

“She’s so ready for us,” Jungkook whines. 

Jimin nips harshly at your bottom lip at the appraisal, Jungkook croons, sending pulses of hot want directly to your empty core. You whine when Jimin breaks contact, trying desperately to reconnect your lips with his. 

“Do you want more?” He asks, the genuine tone leaking back into his words. “We need to hear you say yes, baby.” He purrs. 

“Yes,” you moan, delving back into the swell of his lips and pressing him further into the cushion of the couch. 

Tae’s hands have wandered from your spine, downwards, running along the muscles of your calf. “Such an eager girl…” He whispers, tugging the clasp on your bra free. 

You whimper as the cold air hits your breasts, your bra sliding down your arms. You can hear Jungkook and Taehyung move from the couch, behind you, feel them when they help your bra slide off your arms they gently wrench free from Jimin’s hoodie. 

“So beautiful.” Jungkook murmurs, transfixed by the expanse of your naked skin. 

“He’s right…” Jimin breathes against you, running his hands up your sides and kneading your eager breasts. “You’re breathtaking…” 

“So are you…” You whine, resting the palm of your hand against his cheek. He melts into the touch, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. 

He opens them, the devilish glint in his eyes having returned. “I’m going to fuck you good, baby. That’s a promise.” He grins, the contrast in his wording and tone rendering you a mess. “But first, you’re going to suck Tae’s cock. Would you do that for me?” He smiles, eyes crinkling.

“Mm…” You whimper, looking around the room for Tae. 

He’s moved from the couch to sit in a matching armchair, legs spread, erection pressing harshly against denim. You try desperately not to focus on the older men sitting on the couch, knowing damned well you’d be a lost cause if you laid eyes upon the reasoning for the hitched breathing and moans coming from that end of the sofa. 

“Come here,” Tae calls, his voice low and thick with desire. 

You nod, removing yourself from Jimin’s lap, and walk to the chocolate-haired man spread on the armchair. He greets you with a deep kiss, running his tongue harshly through your hot saliva, grinding it against yours. 

“You taste so good,” he praises you, tugging at the flesh of your ass.

You smirk at him, dropping slowly to your knees in front of him. He sighs, simply watching as you undo the button of his jeans and unzip his fly. You run your nails lightly against his tanned skin underneath the waistband of his boxer-briefs, looking up at him through your eyelashes. 

“Fuck.” He whimpers, thrusting his hips slightly upwards against your touch. 

Taking pity on the poor man, you pull his boxers down, openly gaping at his thick cock when it’s finally freed from the cotton prison of his underwear. 

“Big, isn’t he?” Jimin asks, kneeling next to you on the floor. “Don’t think you can take all of him into your mouth?” 

You whine, “I don’t know.” 

“Try.” Jimin orders you. You couldn’t disobey him even if you tried. The heavy arousal settles itself between your thighs, leaving you only thirsting for one thing. You grip Taehyung’s length in your hand, cunt tightening at the familiar weight and warmth of a cock in your hand. 

Taehyung arches back, adam’s apple straining against the tightened skin of his neck as you thumb his precum across the head of his reddened dick.

You can feel Jimin’s hot glare on you; you can feel everyone’s hot glares on you. It only encourages you in your task, the need to please them running heavy in your veins. Your sexed high giving you all of the courage you need to lick a stripe up Taehyung’s cock.

He cries out, copper skin fighting the muscles beneath it as you repeat your actions, swirling your tongue across the slit on his cockhead, the salty tang of his excitement causing you to mewl against him. 

He groans, bucking his member against your tongue, and you press your hands down against his hips to keep him from bucking into your mouth any further. 

“Stay still, Taehyung.” Jimin orders, running his hand along your shoulder blade. “You can do it, baby girl.” 

Your cunt clenches without pause at Jimin’s motivation, begging for any attention, because at this point, you’re truly and painfully horny.

You force yourself to refocus on Taehyung, taking the head of his cock fully into your mouth, you can tell that he’s holding his excitement back when you start to bob down against the tip of his length, testing your boundaries. You could do this. 

You take a deep breath through your nose, clenching your left hand tightly, and slowly take Taehyung inch by inch into the hot velvet of your throat. He lets out a loud moan, nearly coming when he feels the back of your throat hit the head of his cock. “Fuck, just like that,” he growls, thrusting against your hands when you cup his balls in your hand and squeeze lightly, urging him to let himself loose inside of your mouth. 

“Fuck,” he pants, his balls tightening in your grasp as you moan around his girthy length, the warmth of it sinful against your tongue. 

“Such a good girl,” Jimin sighs, pinching a nipple between eager fingers. You moan out against Taehyung’s length, feeling him shiver at the sensation of your teeth scraping gently against his erection. “You’re going to let Tae come on your tongue, aren’t you, baby?” 

“Mm,” you groan, grazing your teeth against the man beneath you again. 

He’s completely lost in the feeling of you on him, hot and wanting. It just takes one more look at you, eyes tearing as you look up at him, Jimin playing with your bare skin, your mouth suction cupped around his hard cock… and the men on the couch, touching each other. His balls tighten again, and he comes in your mouth hotly, curses falling from his chapped lips. 

“Fuck,” he moans, relaxing back against the chair when you finally release his spent cock from your mouth. He feels as though you’ve ravaged his very being. Like you’re all he has.

“You did such a good job, baby girl.” Jimin cooes, rubbing a bit of Tae’s come off of your chin with his thumb, amazed when you lick it off of the pad of his thumb. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” 

“Only for you, Jimin.” You coo, hoping that he can feel the emotion that you feel as he looks into your eyes. 

“Jungkook, how do you want our lovely YN?” Jimin asks, looking to his maknae. Jungkook sits where you and Jimin had been prior, thick cock in his hands, stroking at the velvety smooth erection. 

“On top of me,” Jungkook whines, watching as Jimin helps to relieve you of your underwear and skirt. Leaving you completely naked in front of them. He wishes he could only see this for the rest of his life. 

“How does that sound, baby girl? You want to ride Jungkook?” Jimin asks, voice dangerously low. 

“Yes, Jimin.” You answer, nearly crying at the realization that your slick cunt would finally get some relief. 

Jimin helps you up, leading you back to the large sofa. In front of Jungkook, who looks ravaged and begging for relief. You straddle Kookie, leaning in to kiss him while your hand positions him under your eager sex. 

Jungkook bites at your lip when he feels your soft hands grip the base of his cock, shocked moan rumbling from deep within the confines of his muscular chest. He keeps his eyes on yours as you sink on him slowly, focusing on the stretch of your cunt as he fills you.

“Does he feel good, baby girl?” Jimin asks, removing his shirt. 

“Mhm, Jimin…” You whine, raising yourself slowly before lowering yourself again. 

You can feel your senses fill with your pleasure, your wetness finally being indulged by something more than Jimin’s voice. You clench around Jungkook, feeling your sanity fade and the carnal need to move around Jungkook take over. 

And you do, you move. You rise slowly, the tug of Jungkook against the swollen walls of you leaving you crying out into the empty air above you. 

Jungkook whines at the loss of contact, but meets your erotic cries with his own when you sink back down around his pulsing length, the warmth of you nearly driving him mad. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he whines, black tresses falling damply against his forehead. 

“You feel so good, Kookie,” you whimper, clenching your cunt needily around him. 

“Shit, YN,” he groans, eyes rolling back into his head as you repeat your thrusts. His hips raise in tune with yours, snapping wildly to meet your exposed cunt as you grind back down on top of him. 

The sensation of him slapping without abandon against you has you seeing stars beyond closed eyes, the hot and heavy sensation of your orgasm building quickly in your lower abdomen. You grind down more needily against Jungkook’s dick, your clit rubbing desperately against his pubic bone. 

“Touch me, Kookie,” you beg, eyes screwed so tightly shut, you don’t know whether you’ll ever be able to open them again. 

“I got you, baby girl,” Jimin cooes, and you feel the heavy pad of two fingers rest hotly against your swollen clit, rubbing harsh circles with every snap of your hips. 

Jungkook’s hands find purchase atop your bouncing breasts, squeezing the flesh there with a tightness that has you screaming and coming completely undone on top of him. His hips snap up at you through your orgasm, chasing his high without abandon. 

“Fuck,” he cries out, movements stuttering, hot arousal coating the inside of your cunt.

“Don’t cry, baby girl,” Jimin smiles, wiping stray tears from your face. 

“It felt so good,” you whimper, molding into his waiting body as Jungkook slides out of you, spent and sweaty. 

“I know,” Jimin tells you sweetly. “Are you sure you can handle me tonight, baby?”

You’re exhausted, yes. But the way Jimin looks at you now, eyes dark with lust, breathing labored, chest bare, you don’t care how tired you are.

“I’m sure,” you tell him, pulling his lips desperately against your own. 

“I’ll tell you what, baby girl. I’ll take it easy on you tonight, and just fuck you over this couch. I’ll save you riding my face for another day, okay?” He peppers your face with gentle kisses, “and you’ll sleep with me tonight.” 

“Okay, Jimin.” You agree, allowing him to position you over the couch. 

He rests his back against yours, warmth soothing you, his mouth resting right above your ear. 

“You can look at them now,” he tells you gently, “I want them to see how much you enjoy me fucking you.” 

You do, finally, you look at the older men who’ve sat on the couch the entire time. Your breath catches at the sight. They look about as ravished as you felt. 

Yoongi’s watching you with sex blown eyes; Jin’s match. Namjoon and Hoseok are panting heavily, eyes lidded. No one’s made a move to touch themselves, though. They’re all just… watching. 

You want to ask why, but when Jimin slams his cock harshly inside your recently recovered sex; you can’t bring yourself to care. 

Surely the boys would receive noise complaints in the morning. 

His thrusts are articulated, sharp, and powerful, leaving you panting and screaming for release. 

“You want to come again, baby girl?” Jimin growls against the shell of your ear, biting gently at the flesh there. 

“Please,” you choke out, tightening around him. 

You shout out when his fingers find your clit again, the familiar rubbing sending you over the edge within moments. Jimin’s not long behind you, flesh on flesh finally ceasing as he releases himself inside of you, his excitement mixing with Jungkook’s. 

Rachel takes a long drink and exhales through her nose. “I knew it.”

“You knew nothing,” you snap, though it’s not cutting because your whole body feels like one giant exposed nerve. It only worsens when Jimin slides off the arm of the chair, and your stomach flips.

“Oh, he is moving,” Naomi says faintly.

Jungkook follows a second later, setting his glass down without taking his eyes off you.

“No,” Victoria says. “Actually no. I need another drink before this becomes my business.”

Rachel, the traitor, sounds delighted. “I don’t.”

You should leave. You know you should. Or at least turn around. Pretend you didn’t see them. Dive back into the kitchen, into the dancing, into the crowd. Regain some kind of control before whatever this is gets close enough to touch. Instead, you stand there in your navy blue dress with your pulse in your throat and watch as the room seems to rearrange itself around the fact of them.

Around you. Around whatever the hell this night is becoming. And when Jungkook smiles fully this time, dark eyes dragging once from your face to the glass in your hand and back again, you know with absolute, dizzying certainty that the party has only just started.

Jimin gets to you first. Not by much; Jungkook is only half a step behind him, but there’s something about the way Jimin moves through a crowded room that makes it look easy, like the people parting around him are doing it willingly. Like they want to. His smile is already in place by the time he reaches the edge of your little group, soft and bright and just a little loose around the edges.

Up close, he looks… different. Not in any dramatic, easy-to-name way. Not enough to make you recoil or ask questions or do anything beyond blink once and then look a little harder than you mean to. But his eyes…

They catch the low light strangely.

Not brown, not black, not even fully gray.

There’s a silver cast to them tonight. A pale, metallic tint around the iris that wasn’t there in class. Or maybe it was, and you never got close enough to see it properly. Maybe it’s the weird party lighting. Maybe you’re tipsy enough that every reflective surface in this stupid house looks a little too bright.

You decide, immediately and with force, not to think about it.

“Wow,” Jimin says, gaze dropping from your face to the navy blue of your dress and then back again. “You clean up nicely.”

Rachel makes a choking sound that suspiciously resembles a laugh and Victoria’s nails dig into your forearm for exactly one second before she lets go and steps back just enough to leave you exposed.

“You say that,” you reply, lifting your cup to your mouth mostly so you have something to do with your hands, “like I should appreciate it.”

Jimin’s smile widens. He definitely looks drunk. Not sloppy drunk, not stumbling, not anything so ordinary. Just… lighter than he ever does in class. Looser in the mouth. Easier in the shoulders. Like the usual neatness of him has been smudged at the corners.

“Mm,” he hums, head tilting. “Not what I meant.”

“No?” Jungkook says from beside him, one brow lifting as he glances at Jimin. “Sounded exactly like what you meant.”

Jimin flicks him a look without losing the smile. “It lacked nuance.”

“You lack nuance,” Jungkook replies.

“And yet I’m still the charming one.”

You chuckle. Jungkook notices. His eyes slide to your mouth for a second, then back to your face, and there it is again, that split-second wrongness in the color of them. Silver. Not fully, but enough to register.

Enough to be impossible.

Enough to make you immediately decide the kitchen lights must be reflecting off something stupid.

He’s dressed even better up close, which feels rude. The sleeves of his black shirt are still rolled to his forearms, the top buttons open just enough that the silver at his throat catches when he moves. His lip ring flashes when he smiles at you. 

Rachel makes a pointed little sound behind you.

You ignore her with every ounce of strength you possess.

“Wouldn’t have thought you’d be here,” Jungkook says.

“Funny,” you say, shifting your weight onto one foot. “I was about to say the same thing to you.”

That gets something like delight out of him.

“I knew she’d say that,” Jimin murmurs, sounding pleased with himself for reasons you don’t understand.

Jimin and Jungkook share one of those infuriating little glances that speak in full paragraphs.

Your jaw tightens.

“Oh my God,” Victoria says under her breath. “I hate all of this.”

Naomi elbows her lightly.

Jimin finally looks back at you, expression smoothing into something softer. More direct. “I like the book so far,” he grins. “The one with all the chaos? It’s not bad. I knew you had good taste.”

You stare at him. “I’ve spoken to you, like, twice.”

“Three times,” he corrects.

Jungkook grins. “He’s counting.”

“Shut up.”

“No.”

The girls are still there, but less there now. Not gone. Naomi is watching this unfold with wide eyes, Victoria with delighted horror, Rachel with the kind of focus she usually reserves for social warfare… but the room has narrowed around the three of you all the same. The music still pounds. People still move around you. Someone nearby shouts because they’ve lost a game of something loud and ridiculous.

And somehow, impossibly, none of it feels as immediate as the way Jimin is looking at you.

Too attentive, and close, and silver-eyed.

You take another sip of your drink because it feels like the sort of thing a normal person would do in a normal conversation with two guys who absolutely do not belong at a sticky-floor college house party.

“You’re drunk,” you say to Jimin, because that feels safer than admitting anything else you’re noticing.

Jungkook laughs first.

Jimin’s mouth falls open in mock offense. “Excuse you.”

“You are,” you insist, emboldened now that you’ve said it. “You look drunk.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

He leans in, not enough to trap you, but enough to make the cool air between you shift. “Maybe I am.”

Your heart skips stupidly.

You can smell him this close, something clean layered over something sweet and sharp you can’t place, cut through by the alcohol on your own breath and the heat of the room.

“Okay,” Naomi says abruptly from your left, voice thin with nerves and amusement. “That’s a lot.”

Jimin’s smile flickers in her direction, kind enough to be polite, then slides right back to you. “Your friends seem protective.”

“Of course we’re protective,” Victoria says. “You all look like expensive trouble.”

Jungkook actually laughs at that, full and bright. “Expensive trouble.”

“That’s what you got from that?” Rachel mutters.

“It’s accurate,” he says, still looking at Victoria now.

“It was not a compliment.”

“I didn’t take it as one.”

You feel yourself smiling, which is annoying. More annoying is the fact that Jimin notices that too. He notices everything.

“Did you have fun without us?” he asks suddenly.

The question lands strangely.

You frown. “What?”

“The last two days,” he says, voice light, but there’s something too intent beneath it. “Campus must have been dull, the classes, too.”

There are approximately twelve different things wrong with that sentence.

You latch onto the easiest one first.

“You weren’t there, so you wouldn’t know,” you say carefully.

Jungkook’s smile goes crooked again. “You noticed.”

Rachel makes the loudest, most obnoxious sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

You don’t turn around. You don’t have to. You can feel her vindication radiating behind you like heat off asphalt.

“I noticed when nobody asked me for a pen,” you correct, because words matter and you are not giving these people anything for free, even if you’re lying. “The girls said you skip when it’s sunny.”

Jungkook glances at Jimin. “Our reputation precedes us.”

“You go hiking,” you say, because now that you’ve committed to this conversational route, you may as well drive it directly off a cliff. “Or do outdoorsy shit, apparently.”

That, somehow, is what breaks Jimin.

Not in a big way. He doesn’t bend over laughing or lose balance or anything. But his composure slips enough for a sound to leave him, soft, breathy, delighted, and when he looks at you again those strange silvered eyes are almost bright with it.

“Outdoorsy shit?” he repeats.

“That’s what I heard.”

“From them?” Jungkook asks.

“Obviously.”

He shakes his head slowly, smiling to himself. “That’s amazing.”

“You’re all ridiculous,” Rachel informs them.

Jimin tilts his head at her. “And yet you came over.”

“You came over,” Rachel smirks.

“Shit, we did, didn’t we?”

The whole exchange is so strange and so easy and so unlike what you’d braced yourself for that it takes you a second too long to realize you’re no longer nervous so much as flustered. Actually flustered.

The wine in your system is not helping. The vodka definitely isn’t. Neither is the fact that Jimin keeps looking at you like every breath you give is somehow confirming something for him, while Jungkook watches the whole thing unfold with that dangerous little smile like he’s already three steps ahead of everyone else in the room.

You fold your free arm over your middle and try to gather your dignity.

“So,” you say, because you have to say something, “what exactly are you doing here if you hate parties?”

Jungkook opens his mouth. Jimin, still smiling, says first, “Maybe we heard you’d be here.”

Your brain fully misfires. You laugh. Not because it’s funny, but because your body has clearly decided the options are laugh or burst into flames where you stand.

“That is not--” you say, and have to stop because your own voice sounds wrong to your ears, “that is not an answer.”

“It could be,” Jimin says.

Jungkook, bless him, looks deeply entertained by the fact that Jimin has apparently chosen violence.

“I think,” a new voice drawls from somewhere just over Jimin’s shoulder, “you two are making her want to walk directly into traffic.”

The relief that hits you is so immediate it’s almost embarrassing.

Yoongi steps into the space beside them like he’s been there all along and just waited for the right moment to become visible. Up close, he’s somehow even more striking than he’d looked from a distance—soft white curls falling over his forehead, dark clothes fitted cleanly enough to make everyone else in the room look careless, rings catching on the cup in his hand when he lifts it slightly in your direction.

His eyes are darker than Jimin’s and Jungkook’s right now. Or maybe they’re just less bright, less obvious, or maybe you’re not looking as hard. You hope you are absolutely not looking too hard.

Jimin glances at him with the exaggerated put-upon expression of someone being interrupted mid-performance. “I was being charming.”

“Ah, you were being annoying,” Yoongi replies, shaking his head.

“Can’t I be both?”

Jungkook, grinning, shifts just enough that the pressure of his presence eases from one side of you. “You’re ruining the fun, Yoongi.”

“No,” Yoongi says, voice flat in the driest, most attractive way possible. “I’m preserving the witness.” Yoongi’s gaze lands on you then, and it’s not hungry like Jimin’s. Not playful like Jungkook’s. Just direct and measured. The kind of look that takes you in all at once and gives very little away in return. “Hi,” he says, like the word isn’t beautiful coming from his mouth. “I’m Yoongi.”

You blink once, then straighten a little on instinct. “I know.”

One corner of his mouth lifts. Jungkook laughs under his breath. Yoongi ignores him. “You look overwhelmed.”

“Wow,” Rachel mutters.

You glance at her, then back at him. “I’m not overwhelmed.”

He looks at your drink. Then your face. Then, pointedly, at Jimin. “You are a little overwhelmed.”

Heat surges into your cheeks. “I’m fine.”

“You’re fine,” he agrees easily, which is somehow worse because now it sounds like he’s humoring you. “But they’re doing too much.”

“Hey,” Jimin says.

“No,” Yoongi replies.

Jungkook doesn’t even argue. Which feels deeply telling.

The room around you seems to breathe a little with Yoongi’s presence there, like whatever current Jimin and Jungkook had built between the three of you has changed shape now. Less sharp and less dizzying. Not harmless, absolutely not harmless, but manageable in a way it wasn’t thirty seconds ago.

You latch onto that immediately. “Thank you,” you say without overthinking it.

Yoongi gives the smallest nod, like he wasn’t expecting gratitude but won’t reject it either. “No problem.”

Then, because apparently normalcy is dead and buried tonight, he adds, “They get weird when they’re excited.”

Jimin makes an offended noise. Jungkook looks delighted by the accusation. You stare. “Excited,” you repeat faintly.

Yoongi takes a slow sip from his drink. “Mhm.”

“Yoongi,” Jimin says, in a tone that sounds suspiciously like a warning.

“What?” Yoongi asks, not even pretending innocence. “I’m mediating.”

You decide, in that moment, that if you survive the night without dissolving into a puddle of nerves and vodka, you deserve a medal.

Jungkook tips his head toward Yoongi. “She likes him better already.”

“That is not what’s happening,” you say immediately. Yoongi’s mouth twitches again.

Jimin, who looks less drunk than he did a minute ago and more intent, watches you over the rim of his cup. “You don’t know him yet.”

You laugh again, helpless this time. Actually laugh.

And there it is—that subtle shift you hadn’t expected. The one where the impossible, intimidating, too-beautiful boys you’ve spent the last week being watched by suddenly become people you are standing in a loud dining room making stupid conversation with while your friends absorb every second like free television.

It is absurd. Absolutely absurd, but also completely real. At least, as real as anything feels tonight. Yoongi glances toward the kitchen, then back at you. “Do you want another drink?”

All four of your remaining brain cells short-circuit. Jimin visibly perks up and Jungkook’s grin goes wicked.

Victoria grabs Naomi’s wrist to stop herself from physically shaking you. You narrow your eyes at Yoongi, because that question felt suspiciously like a trap and he seems like the sort of person who would appreciate you noticing. “You’re offering?”

“I’m asking.”

“Which is kind of offering.”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Then maybe I’m offering.”

You look down at your cup, then back at him. The silver in Jimin’s and Jungkook’s eyes catch the light again. You ignore it. And because the room is warm and loud and alive around you, because your cheeks are still hot and your drink is mostly empty and your pulse hasn’t come down once since you saw them standing across the room, you say,  “Yeah. Okay.”

Yoongi nods once, satisfied.

And somewhere behind you, Rachel whispers something to Victoria you can’t quite make out. You close your eyes for one second, then open them again, square your shoulders, and follow trouble straight into the kitchen.

The kitchen that is somehow even louder than the living room.

Maybe not louder, exactly. Just narrower. More immediate. The music from the living room still thuds through the walls and floorboards, a bassline you can feel in your ribs more than hear, but the kitchen noise is different… glass clinking, people shouting over each other by the counter, the sharp hiss of a can opening somewhere behind you, laughter bouncing too hard off the cabinets.

And in the middle of it all, Yoongi moves like none of it touches him. He steps in ahead of you, cutting a path through the crowd with the kind of quiet certainty that doesn’t need to announce itself. Nobody stops him. Nobody blocks him. If anything, people just… shift. An inch here, half a step there, enough to let him through without ever seeming like they’re doing him a favor.

You notice that. You also notice that Jungkook notices you noticing it. “You’re doing that thing again,” he says, leaning one shoulder lazily against the edge of the counter once Yoongi clears a space for you near the sink.

You turn toward him, still a little warm from the walk over and everything that came before it. “What thing?”

“That thing where you look like you’re trying to solve us. You know, figure us out.”

Jimin laughs softly into his drink, standing to your other side. “He thinks it’s charming.”

“It is not charming,” you say automatically.

Jungkook’s lip ring catches the kitchen light when he grins. “No?”

“No.”

“You keep doing it, though.”

“That’s because,” you say, lifting your nearly empty cup in emphasis, “you people are weird.”

Jimin makes a tiny offended sound. “We’re delightful.”

Jungkook’s smile broadens, slower now, more dangerous for how easy it looks.

You laugh, shaking your head and looking away from him because that feels safer than staying there. “Do you ever get tired?”

“Of what?”

“This,” you say, gesturing vaguely between him and Jimin and the whole impossible glittering absurdity of them. “The constant—” You motion again, more helplessly. “Whatever this is.”

Jimin turns his head, silver-bright eyes narrowing just slightly in amusement. “Talking?”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

Jungkook glances at Jimin. “She likes us.”

You scoff so hard it almost turns into a choke on the last sip of your drink. “Please be serious for one second.”

“Why?” Jimin asks lightly. “You aren’t.”

That startles a laugh out of you. Again. You’re beginning to think that might be part of the problem.

Yoongi, meanwhile, is at the counter with all the focus of a man diffusing a bomb instead of pouring drinks. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t guess. He picks up bottles, glances once at what’s in your cup, then at you, and starts building a replacement with maddening composure while the rest of the kitchen jostles and shouts around him like a different species.

“You make drinks like a dad at a cookout,” you blurt, mostly because you’re flustered and deflection comes too easy to you. Jimin folds over laughing immediately.

Jungkook makes a delighted noise. “That’s devastating.”

Yoongi, to his credit, doesn’t even look offended. He glances over his shoulder at you, expression almost flat if not for the tiny lift at one corner of his mouth. “A competent dad at a cookout.”

“That makes it worse.”

You watch him squeeze lime into one cup and top off another with something amber and fizzy from a can. Everything he does is so unhurried it borders on ridiculous.

“Are you always like this?” you ask him.

Yoongi slides a fresh drink toward you. “Like what?”

“Calm.”

Jungkook snorts. Jimin takes a long sip from his own glass and says, “No.”

Yoongi ignores both of them. “Sometimes.”

“That was a lie,” Jimin informs you.

“I wasn’t asking you.”

“You never have to,” Jimin says, smile slipping easy across his face. “I’m generous.”

“With your own opinion,” Jungkook says.

“Exactly.”

You take the new drink Yoongi offers and glance down at it. It looks prettier than your first one. More deliberate and less like Rachel mixed it out of spite and intuition.

“What is it?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “You liked the first one.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“Vodka. Lime. Cranberry. Something sparkling because you looked like you needed it.”

Jungkook turns his whole body toward you at that, grin going sharp. “You do look elegant.”

The heat in your face spikes all over again. You take a sip instead of answering. It tastes better than the first one, too.

Still strong, but cleaner somehow. Colder. The lime cuts through the sweetness in a way that makes it easier to drink, which feels like exactly the kind of thing that could become dangerous if you stop paying attention.

“You’re good at this,” you admit kindly.

Yoongi dips his chin once like he expected the acknowledgment but wasn’t fishing for it. “I know,” he says.

From somewhere in the living room, there’s a sudden cheer, loud enough to cut through the music for a second, and when you glance over the heads and shoulders cluttering the kitchen doorway, you catch a flash of Naomi’s green top bent over a pong table, Victoria beside her with both arms in the air. Rachel is near the opposite end, leaning into someone’s shoulder and yelling something that looks vicious and delighted all at once.

“They made friends fast,” Jimin says, following your gaze.

“Alcohol seems to help,” you reply.

“Does it?”

You look at him. “Like I said before, you literally seem drunk and you came up to me.”

“I’m fun,” he corrects.

“That’s up for debate.”

Jungkook makes a thoughtful hum. “That’s fair.”

“You too,” you add, because if Jimin’s going down then Jungkook can go with him. “You’re both suspiciously fun tonight.”

Jimin puts a hand to his chest. “That hurts.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“No, it should, Jimin,” Jungkook says, still smiling. “Because she means it.”

“Do I?” you ask.

“Yes,” both of them say at once.

You stare. Jimin and Jungkook glance at each other, then back at you, both looking way too pleased with themselves.

“See?” Jungkook says.

“See what?”

“That look.”

“What look?”

“The one where you think we planned that.”

“You probably did.”

Jimin beams. “Now you’re getting to know us.”

You sigh into your drink, then turn slightly toward the doorway again when the movement in the room beyond shifts.

The crowd parts just enough for you to catch sight of Taehyung near the archway between the dining room and hall, Seokjin beside him saying something low that you can’t hear over the music. Namjoon stands close on Taehyung’s other side, one hand wrapped around a glass he hasn’t touched in a while, gaze moving between the room and whatever current is passing between the three of them.

Taehyung isn’t looking at you. At least not directly.

But he’s closer than he was before. Close enough that you can feel the shape of his attention even when it isn’t fully on you. It’s maddening. Seokjin says something else, voice lost beneath the song, and Taehyung’s head tips just slightly in response. Then his eyes lift.

Find yours. The room drops one degree, maybe two. There’s no smile waiting there. No easy flirtation. No practiced playfulness. Just that same charged stillness you’ve come to associate with him. The same unsettling sense that he is holding himself together with deliberate hands.

And then, as if the moment itself is aware it’s becoming too much, Namjoon glances toward the kitchen and catches you looking. His expression shifts almost immediately, somewhere between amusement and apology, before he says something to Taehyung that finally pulls his attention away.

You take a bigger sip of your drink than you meant to.

“Careful,” Yoongi says.

Your eyes flick back to him. “What?”

He nods toward your cup. “That one goes down easier.”

Jungkook looks delighted by the warning. “He’s right.”

“We’re not trying to get you drunk,” Jimin says.

Yoongi lifts a brow. “No?”

Jimin smiles without shame. “Not that fast.”

You nearly choke. “Oh my God.”

Jungkook laughs so hard he has to brace a hand on the counter. “That was smooth.”

“That was awful,” you say, voice thinner than you want it to be.

Jimin’s grin turns wicked and, if possible, even softer at the same time. “You laughed.”

“I’ll leave now,” you tell him, eyes narrowed.

Jimin gestures towards the main room and gives you a few seconds. “Mmm, just what I thought.”

“That’s because my friends abandoned me for beer pong.”

As if summoned by the accusation, Victoria looks up from the table in the next room and spots you in the kitchen. She immediately points at you with one hand and cups the other around her mouth.

“YN!” she yells.

Every head in your little knot of conversation turns. Victoria, flushed and glowing under bad party lights, motions wildly for you to come closer. Naomi is beside her, smiling into her cup. Rachel has one hand on the pong table and one hand around somebody else’s wrist like she’s in the middle of explaining rules she herself probably made up.

“What?” you yell back.

“Tell your little fan club someone needs Jimin!”

You blink. Jimin blinks too.

“Hoseok’s losing his mind looking for him!” Victoria shouts, and right on cue you catch sight of him in the living room, dancing with a level of commitment that looks almost athletic, blond hair bright under the flashing lights, body moving like the music is physically pulling him through space. He spots Jimin at the exact same second and lights up like a fuse.

“Oh no,” Jungkook says, laughing.

Hoseok barrels toward the kitchen like joy in human form, weaving through people with impossible ease. He gets one hand around Jimin’s wrist and immediately starts tugging.

“Come on,” he says, breathless with laughter. “You promised.”

“I promised nothing,” Jimin argues, though he’s already letting himself be pulled.

“You absolutely did.”

“That sounds fake.”

Hoseok beams at you as if you’re somehow involved. “He lies when he’s scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

“You’re boring,” Hoseok shoots back.

Jimin sighs theatrically and looks at you over his shoulder as Hoseok keeps hauling him away. “Don’t let them have too much fun without me.”

The words hit stupidly.

Your pulse answers before your brain can.

“What?”

But he’s already laughing, already getting yanked backward into the living room where Hoseok immediately spins him into the crush of people dancing near the speakers. Within seconds, Jimin is all flashing ringed hands and silver eyes and that easy grace, like he’s made of music instead of bone.

You stare for half a second too long.

Jungkook notices, naturally.

“He’s good, right?” he says, voice pitched low enough that it only reaches you and Yoongi.

You tear your eyes away. “At dancing?”

“At a lot of things.”

Yoongi snorts softly into his drink.

“Something’s wrong with all of you,” you say.

“And still,” Jungkook murmurs, leaning just enough into your space to make the cool scent of him brush against the sharper smells of alcohol and bodies and citrus, “you haven’t left.”

You turn to look at him fully. His eyes are still wrong under the kitchen lights.

Still tinged with that strange silver around the iris that you are absolutely, deliberately, one hundred percent refusing to think about. Maybe it’s contacts. Maybe it’s alcohol. Maybe somebody in this house bought the worst LED bulbs in the state of Washington.

Whatever.

You are not doing that to yourself tonight. “I’m at a party,” you say, because your voice works and that’s a miracle worth using. “Where exactly would I leave to?”

Jungkook’s smile softens into something almost approving. “Good answer.”

The current in the kitchen shifts again. Seokjin appears first, smooth as a shadow sliding free of a wall, drink in hand and expression as composed as ever. Namjoon is just behind him, shoulders taking up more space than should really be legal in that fitted dark shirt of his. Taehyung lingers half a step behind both of them, not fully joining the circle but no longer across the room either.

The air changes. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but you do.

Seokjin’s gaze takes in the scene in one sweep, you, your fresh drink, Yoongi against the counter, Jungkook too close, Jimin now being mauled by Hoseok in the living room, and something unreadable flickers in his face.

Then he looks at you and smiles. It is, frankly, rude. “You seem to be surviving,” he says.

“Barely,” you reply.

Namjoon’s mouth lifts. “That’s usually how these things go.”

“You all look like you walked out of a catalog,” you say, because the alcohol has apparently decided your dignity is optional. “This house is full of frat boys in wrinkled flannel. You can’t seriously think you blend in.”

Jungkook makes a startled, delighted sound. Seokjin laughs, low and smooth, and even Namjoon actually looks pleased.

And Taehyung…

Taehyung, who hasn’t said a word, watches you from just beyond Seokjin’s shoulder with that same dark intensity, head tilted slightly like he’s trying to hear something beneath the noise.

“Catalog?” Namjoon repeats.

“Not a flattering one,” you say quickly.

“It sounded flattering,” Jungkook says.

“You would think so.”

Yoongi takes your cup from your hand without asking, tops it off with a little more sparkling something, and gives it back before you have the option to protest. “Pace yourself,” he says.

“Yes, mom,” you mumble. “You all keep telling me what to do.”

“You complain about it,” Seokjin says, voice all velvet amusement, “but you keep listening.”

You open your mouth and snap it shut… because he’s annoying. Because they’re all annoying. Because Rachel is absolutely going to smell blood in the water the second she gets near you again.

From the next room, Victoria screams Naomi’s name in triumph. You look over in time to see Naomi sinking a ping pong ball clean into the final cup on the table.

The whole room erupts. Rachel throws both hands up and points dramatically at Naomi like she just discovered a prodigy. Naomi’s face lights up in startled disbelief.

“Oh,” you say, brightening instantly. “She won.”

Jungkook glances toward the table, then back at you, and there’s something like fascination in the way he catches how quickly your whole expression shifts.

“She did,” he says.

And then, because apparently the universe has decided subtlety is dead tonight, Taehyung finally moves. Just one small step closer into the edge of the kitchen light, enough that you can see the open collar of his dark shirt, the line of his throat, the set of his jaw. Seokjin says something low to him. Namjoon watches the room. Yoongi watches everything. Jungkook watches you watching Naomi. Jimin is still tangled up in whatever deranged little dance battle Hoseok has forced on him in the living room.

Taehyung says nothing. But he’s here now.

Close enough that the night feels like it has shifted around that fact alone.

You wrap your fingers more carefully around your drink. For the first time since walking into the party, you get the strange, dizzying sense that this night might not just belong to the music and the booze and your friends’ laughter after all.

It might belong to something else that’s still unfolding. And judging by the look Jungkook sends you next, half playful, half warning, they know it too.

tagging -@sexymysteriousgirl @welcometomyworld13 @jarofer @arrctica @wannaghostbts @nairobi22 @osakis-gf @parapiop7 @alessiamargaux  @bjoriis @justlexijay @avo-toast @lunaryoongie @dayquilforthewin @kunarchist @anabeth2000 @footballjournal @deaddumblbumble

Thursday wakes up bright enough to feel like a slap.

Sunlight cuts clean through your curtains, sharp and unapologetic, dragging you out of sleep before your alarm even gets the chance to try. For a second, you just lie there, squinting at the ceiling like it offended you.

Too bright. Too normal.

After yesterday, it feels wrong.

You drag your phone off the nightstand, thumb hovering for a second before unlocking it.

naomi: pls tell me ur awake naomi: i don’t want to drive

You huff, rolling onto your side.

you: i am now

you: and u are driving 😌

Three dots. Gone. Three dots again.

naomi: traitor

You smirk to yourself and finally sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. The air in your room is warmer than usual, sunlight pooling across your floor.

The apartment is already awake by the time you step out.

Victoria is at the counter, half-dressed and fully caffeinated, scrolling through her phone with one hand and eating something out of a bowl with the other. Naomi is by the sink, rinsing out a mug, her bag already slung over her shoulder like she’s been ready for twenty minutes.

Rachel is talking.

Of course she is.

“…and I’m just saying, if he wanted to partner with me, he could have said something earlier instead of acting like—”

“Good morning,” you cut in, grabbing a mug before Rachel can spiral any further.

Victoria glances up. “Look who lives.”

“Barely,” you mutter, pouring coffee and taking a careful sip. “Why is it so bright outside?”

“Sun,” Naomi says helpfully.

“Unnecessary,” you reply.

Rachel eyes you as you lean against the counter. “You look tired.”

“I am tired,” you sigh.

“From what?” she presses. “We literally did nothing last night.”

“Existing is exhausting,” you deadpan.

Victoria snorts. Naomi smiles. Rachel rolls her eyes.

“Are we going or what?” Naomi asks, already halfway to the door.

The drive to campus felt… off.

Not in a way you can immediately name. Not dramatic. Not wrong enough to set off alarms. Just… different.

Maybe it’s the sunlight.

It paints everything in this too-clear, too-sharp clarity that makes the campus feel almost unfamiliar. The buildings look cleaner. The walkways feel wider. The people… there are more of them, or maybe you’re just noticing them more.

You fall into step beside Naomi, Victoria and Rachel just ahead of you, still half-arguing about something that has long since lost its original point.

Your eyes drift. You don’t mean for them to. You’re not looking for anything. They just… move. Across the courtyard. Toward the parking lot. Over the clusters of students gathering near the steps.

Nothing.

No familiar figures standing just a little too still. No luxurious clothing cutting through the crowd like it belongs somewhere else.

Why should there be?

Get a grip, you tell yourself.

English is loud.

Students talking over each other, chairs scraping, the professor barely trying to corral the chaos into something productive.

You slide into a seat beside Naomi, dropping your bag at your feet and pulling out your notebook.

“Bless,” Naomi murmurs. “Normal class.”

“Define normal,” you mutter.

“No one is staring at you like you’re the main character in a psychological thriller yet,” she replies under her breath.

You huff out a quiet laugh.

“Low bar,” you say.

“Very low,” she agrees.

The class settles eventually. The lecture starts. Notes are taken, questions are asked, and for a while, it’s easy to just… exist.

No tension crawling up your spine. No awareness pressing in from either side. No feeling like every movement you make is being tracked. Just you and Naomi. And a room full of people who don’t care what you’re doing. It should feel good. It does feel good. Mostly.

But there’s a strange absence sitting in the edges of it all. Like something that had been loud enough to notice yesterday is suddenly gone, and your brain hasn’t decided whether it’s feeling relief or something else.

You tap your pen against the page, eyes flicking once toward the door when it opens.

Just a late student.

You stop, look back down, and focus.

“You’re doing it again,” Naomi whispers as the class winds down.

“Doing what?” you murmur back.

“Looking,” she says simply.

You still.

“I’m not—”

“You are,” she smiles, not unkindly. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

Art feels bigger. Emptier.

Maybe it’s just because you’re sitting with Victoria and Rachel this time, the three of you clustered around your table with charcoal sticks and sketchpads spread out between you.

No Jungkook. No Jimin. No quiet tension humming under the surface of every movement.

Just Rachel complaining and Victoria making snide comments under her breath.

“Okay, but tell me why we’re doing still life,” Rachel groans, staring at the setup in front of the class. “I didn’t sign up to draw fruit.”

“You signed up for art,” Victoria says. “This is art.”

“This is torture.”

You snort softly, sketching the outline of the bowl in front of you.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Rachel accuses.

“I’m enjoying the silence,” you correct.

“There is no silence,” Victoria points out, gesturing to Rachel.

“Exactly.”

Rachel gasps, scandalized. “I’m being attacked.”

“You’re being loud,” Victoria says.

You shake your head, lips tugging into a small smile as you shade in your sketch.

It’s easier today.

Not better, necessarily, but easier.

Your hand moves without hesitation. Your focus stays where you put it. There’s no pull to the side, no distraction tugging your attention away from the page.

You glance up once across the room.

Nothing.

Just other students. Other conversations.

You look back down.

First Aid Industrial is quiet in a different way.

You take your usual seat, pulling on the disposable gloves provided as the instructor walks you through bandaging techniques with the kind of calm authority that makes it easy to follow along.

Wrap. Secure. Check.

Repeat.

Your hands move on autopilot, muscle memory kicking in faster than expected. This class feels easier. Partially because you had it alone already, but also because you’re kept so busy. Your brain doesn’t have time to stray, your hands have to move, and your brain has to keep pace.

It’s only one class, but it’s some sort of reprieve from your wandering mind. Your thoughts could get loud.

But not here, and not now. 

By the time First Aid Industrial lets out, the day has started to yellow around the edges.

The bright, almost obnoxious sunlight from that morning has mellowed into something softer, warmer, more bearable, golden light stretching long over the concrete paths of campus and catching in the leaves of the trees that bordered the far end of the lot. It should have made everything feel easier. More picturesque, maybe. Like one of those afternoons people write home about, all soft light and the promise of a mild evening.

Instead, you just feel… tilted off your axis.

Not bad. Not upset. Not even tired in the way you’d been that morning.

Just strange.

Like the whole day had passed by in a series of disconnected moments that should’ve added up to something more than they did. A whole portrait instead of abstract art. 

You shove your notebook into your bag and sling the strap over your shoulder, trailing out of the classroom with the rest of the students. Their voices blend together around you in bursts—weekend plans, complaints about assignments, someone laughing too loudly at a joke you didn’t hear. The sound follows you down the hall and out into the open air, where it gets swallowed up by the wide, sunlit quiet of campus.

For a few seconds, you just stand there at the top of the steps, blinking against the light.

People move around you in small groups, heading toward the lot, the library, the student center, the cafeteria. A normal Thursday. A completely uneventful afternoon.

You should probably feel relieved.

“Well,” Victoria says from somewhere to your left, drawing the word out until it sounds like a verdict. “That was weird.”

You glance over. She’s coming down the steps from another wing, sketch pad tucked beneath one arm, bag hanging low off one shoulder. Rachel is next to her, already talking with her hands, while Naomi trails half a step behind them both and looks about as worn out as you feel.

“Weird how?” Rachel asks immediately. “Like weird-weird or boring-weird? Because if we’re talking about boring, then yeah, absolutely. I almost died in—”

“You almost die every day, according to you,” Victoria cuts in.

Rachel flips her off.

No one had stared at you all day. No one had hovered near your desk, asked pointed questions in that too-soft, too-careful way that somehow made every conversation feel like it had a multitude of purposes. You got through English without the strange pressure of being watched from the row in front of you. You got through Art without the static hum of Jimin’s calm attention or Jungkook’s crooked smiles snagging at your focus. You got through your last class without glancing toward the door and finding someone already there.

You got what should’ve been a normal day.

So why does it feel like something’s missing?

The thought arrives uninvited and sits heavy in your chest.

You frown at it.

Then, because apparently your body has decided humiliation is the vibe for the afternoon, your eyes drag across the quad again. Over the students moving between buildings. Over the cars glinting in the lot. Over the shaded patch near the art wing, the benches outside the student resources building, the parking spaces lining the far curb.

Nothing.

No black Volvo. No sleek BMW. No expensive, impossible Rolls-Royce that looked ridiculous parked beside dented sedans and old pickup trucks. No impossible faces. No dark silhouettes. No too-still posture set apart from everybody else’s restless movement.

Nothing.

You let out a breath you hadn’t meant to hold.

“What’s got you sighing?” Naomi asks.

You look up to find the three girls converging toward you, Naomi with her tote bag tucked against her side, Victoria carrying her sketchpad under one arm, Rachel with her sunglasses shoved up into her hair even though the sun’s already easing lower. They move toward you like they always do at the end of the day now, an accidental little pack forming in the lot.

You almost say nothing.

Almost.

Instead, because apparently you enjoy making things harder for yourself, you glance back toward the empty row where you’ve gotten used to seeing some variation of their cars and say, a little too casually, “It’s just kind of weird they weren’t here today.”

There’s a beat.

Then Victoria’s mouth opens in immediate delight.

Naomi actually laughs.

Rachel goes very, very still before the slowest, meanest little smile curls across her mouth.

“Oh my God,” Victoria says first, scandalized in the way only a best friend can be when she’s having the time of her life. “You noticed.”

Naomi presses her lips together, though it does absolutely nothing to hide how amused she is. “I told you she would.”

Your brows shoot up. “Excuse me?”

Rachel’s laugh is softer, sharper. “No, no. Don’t backpedal now. You snapped at me last night because I asked one too many questions, and now suddenly we’re all supposed to pretend it’s not very interesting that you were keeping tabs on whether the Kims showed up to school?”

Heat flares at the back of your neck instantly.

“I was not keeping tabs,” you say, too quick, too defensive.

“You kind of were,” Naomi says gently.

“I was not,” you repeat, glaring between the three of them now. “They’ve been around a lot. They weren’t around today. I noticed. That is not the same thing.”

Rachel folds her arms over her chest and tips her head. “So just to be clear, when I bring them up, you bite my head off. But when you notice their absence and bring them up, that’s somehow normal?”

Your jaw tightens.

Last night flashes through you in a quick, unpleasant sequence—Rachel asking too many questions, you snapping, the whole room going tight and quiet afterward. The memory sits there between the two of you now, thin and prickly.

“Rachel,” Naomi starts, warning in her voice.

But Rachel only shrugs one shoulder, eyes fixed on you. “I’m just saying.”

“No,” you reply, sharper than you mean to at first, then force your tone down before it can get away from you. “You’re holding it over my head because I snapped at you.”

Rachel raises her brows. “Should I not?”

You stare at her.

She stares right back.

Then Victoria, bless her, cuts through before it can turn into something uglier. “Okay, okay, before we all start throwing hands in the parking lot—yes, YN noticed they were missing. That does not automatically mean she wants to marry one of them.”

Rachel snorts. “She doesn’t have to marry one of them. I’d settle for her admitting she thinks they’re hot.”

“Oh, grow up,” you mutter, adjusting the strap on your shoulder and starting toward the car, because if you stay rooted to the pavement any longer you may actually combust.

The girls follow, of course.

“Hot is objective,” Victoria says, falling into step beside you. 

“You know that’s not the part I’m curious about,” you groan. 

Naomi nods. “The interesting part is that they weren’t there.”

You glance at her. “So it is weird.”

“A little,” she concedes. “But not in a bad way.”

Rachel makes a doubtful little noise.

“It’s not bad-weird,” Victoria says. “They do this.”

You frown. “Do what?”

“Disappear on nice days,” Rachel says before Victoria can. “Which you would know if you’d listened to me instead of acting like I was insane.”

That catches you off guard enough to slow your steps.

“They skip when it’s sunny?”

Victoria barks out a laugh. “Yeah. All the time.”

“All the time?” you repeat.

Naomi shrugs, like this is the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah. A few students do, but the Kims do it enough that people notice. Especially this time of year, when everyone’s been trapped under rain for, like, three straight centuries.”

“They go do outdoorsy shit,” Victoria says. “Hikes. Trails. Cliffs. Forests. Whatever rich, hot recluses do when the weather turns nice. Like some weird REI campaign.”

Despite yourself, a laugh slips out.

And because the universe hates you, the sound only encourages them further.

“See?” Victoria says, pointing at you triumphantly. “You care.”

“I do not care,” you say. “I was asking.”

“Mhm,” Rachel says. “Because you were curious.”

“Because they were gone.”

“Because you missed them,” Rachel corrects smoothly.

You stop by the trunk and turn to face her fully. “I did not miss them.”

Rachel’s expression goes infuriatingly serene. “Then why were you looking for their cars?”

Your mouth opens. Then closes. Because there is no answer to that that doesn’t sound incriminating.

Victoria outright cackles. Naomi tries and fails to smother another laugh with the sleeve of her cardigan.

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter.

“It is,” Naomi agrees, smiling. “But it’s also a little funny.”

You drop your head back and squint up at the sky for a second, blue fading at the edges now where late afternoon is threatening to take over. “You’re all awful.”

Victoria reaches over and hooks her arm through yours. “And yet, here we are.”

Rachel is still watching you like she’s waiting for a confession.

Not a dramatic one. She knows better than that. Just something small. A crack in the wall. Some tiny admission she can pocket and use against you later.

You give her nothing.

“They’re just people,” you say finally, opening the car door. “Hot, weird people who apparently ditch class to go roll around in the forest whenever the sun comes out.”

Naomi smiles. “That’s basically the gist of it.”

“Sounds kind of fun,” Victoria says.

Rachel scoffs. “No, it doesn’t.”

“You hate dirt.”

“I hate bugs. The dirt is just another reason not to go frollick into the fucking woods.”

You climb into the passenger’s seat before she can drag the conversation any further off course, and the girls pile in around you with the easy rhythm of routine already settling into your bones. Naomi slips into the driver’s seat. Rachel slides into the back behind her. Victoria drops in next to Rachel, behind you, leaning forward between the seats almost immediately.

“So,” she says, voice bright with menace. “Who do we think is the outdoorsiest?”

“Please don’t start,” you groan, listening to the engine start.

“It’s Namjoon,” Naomi says.

“It’s absolutely Namjoon,” Victoria agrees.

“Wrong,” Rachel says. “It’s Taehyung. He seems like the kind of person who would stand silently in a field for four hours and call it healing.”

You snort.

Victoria catches it instantly in the rearview and grins. “There she is.”

You roll your eyes and the car eases out of the lot, the golden campus slipping by in pieces outside your windows.

The conversation keeps going, because of course it does.

“Jungkook would go if there was an audience,” Rachel says.

“Jungkook would cliff dive for fun,” Naomi counters.

“Jimin would complain about his shoes,” Victoria adds.

“Seokjin would bring snacks,” Naomi says.

“Yoongi would mysteriously already be there somehow,” Rachel mutters.

You shake your head, trying not to smile and failing a little anyway.

Layered underneath your thinly veiled frustration is relief. The kind of relief that comes from having the weirdness made ordinary by other people. Like if Victoria can reduce the Kims to hot hikers in a fake REI ad and Rachel can make passive-aggressive comments about Taehyung communing with nature, then maybe all of this really is just… normal. Or normal enough.

You come to a stop at a red light just beyond campus, Naomi’s fingers tapping once against the steering wheel.

Your reflection stares back at you faintly from the windshield—sun-flushed cheeks, tired eyes, hair a little wild from the day. You look like a girl who had class. Nothing more. Nothing special enough to warrant this much attention from anyone, let alone a group of boys everyone in town seems to orbit from a careful distance.

“They really do this a lot?” you hear yourself ask.

There’s a tiny, satisfied silence from the backseat.

Rachel pounces first. “See? There it is.”

“Oh my God,” you mutter immediately. “That is not what I meant.”

Naomi laughs softly beside you. “Yeah. They do. At least from what I’ve seen.”

“Sunny days, especially,” Victoria adds. “They vanish. Sometimes for just the day, sometimes the whole weekend.”

“Hikes,” Rachel says dramatically, as though personally offended by the concept. “Trails. Scenic overlooks. Outdoorsy shit.”

“Maybe they like nature,” you say.

Rachel goes quiet for half a beat, then says, “Listen to yourself.”

“What?”

“You’re defending them now.”

“I am literally not.”

“You said maybe they like nature with your whole chest.”

You make a strangled sound and beg Naomi to hit the gas as the light changes.

The girls laugh.

Even Rachel.

The sound fills the car, easy and bright and a little mean in the affectionate way only friends can get away with. By the time you pull into the lot outside the quad, whatever tension had been threatening to wedge itself into the afternoon again has dissolved into something more manageable… lighter, even if you know damn well Rachel is not done with you.

The four of you pile out of the car in the slow, loose way of people who don’t yet have evening plans beyond homework and food and pretending not to be exhausted. Naomi stretches, arms overhead. Victoria grabs her sketchpad. Rachel waits until you’ve shut your door before circling back around the hood of the car to walk beside you toward the building.

You brace automatically for another jab.

It comes.

But quieter this time.

“I’m just saying,” Rachel murmurs as the others head a few steps ahead, “if you do like one of them, you can tell us. I won’t act weird about it.”

You glance at her. “That is the least true statement anyone’s ever made.”

She shrugs. “Fine. I’ll act a little weird about it. But not in a malicious way.”

“You’re lying,” you tell her, climbing the stairs.

“And you’re dodging,” she singsongs lightly.

The apartment door opens. Warmth spills out. Naomi tosses her keys into the bowl by the entrance. Victoria is already talking about snacks.

You step inside and toe off your shoes, the familiar creak of the floorboards grounding you more than anything has all day.

For a moment—just a moment—you let yourself imagine it.

Some winding trail deep in the trees.

The weather clear.

Seven of them somewhere under all that sun and sky, doing whatever strange, expensive, outdoorsy shit everyone swears they do on nice days.

The thought is so absurd it makes your mouth twitch.

Then Rachel breezes past you into the kitchen and calls, loud enough for the whole apartment to hear, “By the way, YN was looking for the Kims in the parking lot.”

Your head drops back.

“Rachel.”

Victoria howls.

Naomi gasps, “Dude!”

Your middle finger is loud and proud as you shoot it her way from the living room.

The apartment feels softer after sunset.

Not quieter, necessarily—Rachel is still Rachel, Victoria still has a running commentary for nearly everything she does, and Naomi hums under her breath whenever she’s focused—but softer in the way places do when the blinds are shut, the lamps are on low, and nobody has anywhere else they need to be.

You change into leggings and one of your old Portland State hoodies after dinner, hair twisted up in a claw clip that’s already threatening to give up. By the time you come back out to the living room, Naomi has spread her notes neatly across the coffee table, Victoria has claimed the floor with her sketchpad and a textbook she looks openly offended by, and Rachel is in the kitchen with a bottle of wine and four mismatched glasses.

You pause in the doorway.

Rachel notices.

“What?” she asks, already pouring.

“Nothing,” you say slowly. “I just didn’t take you for a red wine girl.”

Rachel snorts. “Please. I’m not a monster. I like a ton of different things.”

“Yeah, like the time she saw a French film in eighth grade and made it everybody’s problem,” Victoria says without looking up.

Rachel gasps. “That is such an oversimplification of my personality.”

“It’s not an oversimplification if it’s true,” Naomi murmurs.

You laugh before you can stop it, and Rachel’s eyes flick to you for just a second—not hard, not sharp, just enough for you to catch that she noticed.

The air between you is still a little bruised from last night. Not broken, exactly. But tender in the places where you both pressed too hard.

Rachel pours anyway.

“Study night,” she declares, setting a glass in front of each of you like she’s officiating something. “This can be a tradition starting tonight, since last night was messy. And before any of you start, yes, one glass of wine while studying is the mark of a well-rounded student.”

“It is definitely the mark of something,” Victoria mutters.

Naomi accepts hers with a smile. “Thank you.”

You take yours too, fingers curling around the stem. “If I fail a quiz or something tomorrow, I’m blaming all of you.”

The first twenty minutes pass in the easy, stop-start rhythm of four people pretending to study more efficiently than they actually are. Naomi is the only one truly committed to the bit, posture straight, highlighter uncapped, eyes skimming over her notes with deadly seriousness. Victoria does a decent enough impression of productivity until her attention starts drifting and she begins doodling in the margins of her reading packet. Rachel reads in dramatic bursts—three pages in perfect silence, then a loud sigh and a complaint to no one in particular. You bounce between actually reviewing your notes and letting your eyes go unfocused somewhere over the top of your glass.

The wine helps.

Not enough to make you fuzzy. Just enough to sand down the edges of the day.

It’s Rachel, unexpectedly, who shifts the night.

Naomi asks some harmless question about where everyone grew up—something that comes up because Victoria is making fun of the tiny-town energy of Forks and you mention Portland again—and somehow it circles its way toward Rachel before anyone fully realizes they’ve wandered there.

Rachel rolls her wine between her palms and stares into it like there might be an answer at the bottom.

“My dad’s a chef,” she says finally, tone so matter-of-fact it almost misses the room entirely. “Like, not line-cook chef. Actual chef. Ran restaurants in Seattle before he decided he was over the city and wanted to ‘curate a quieter culinary experience,’ which is rich-person code for opening a bougie place somewhere nobody asked for one.”

Victoria looks up, immediately interested. “Wait, really?”

Rachel nods once. “And my mom’s a flight attendant. Has been since before I was born. Still is, technically, though now she mostly picks the routes she wants and complains about junior crews.”

“That’s kind of cool,” Naomi says

Rachel gives a half shrug. “It is. I guess.”

You watch her over the rim of your glass.

There’s something different in her face now. Not softer, exactly—Rachel doesn’t really do soft—but less arranged. Less curated.

“Were you in Seattle before here?” you ask.

“Mostly,” she says. “Some Bellevue. Some Mercer Island when my grandparents wanted everybody closer together. My family’s got money, which is as annoying to say out loud as it sounds.”

Victoria snorts. “At least you know it.”

“Oh, trust me, I know it. I’ve known it since I was old enough to realize most people don’t grow up with dinner parties where everyone’s talking about mutual funds and prep schools over tiny food portions.”

Naomi smiles faintly. “That sounds awful.”

“It was awful,” Rachel replies, and this time there’s no sarcasm in it. “My parents aren’t bad people or anything. My dad actually worked his ass off for most of what he has, and my mom just… kind of floats through life like everything will work out because it always has. But everybody in my family is so—” she searches for the word, nose scrunching. “Polished. Intentional. Their kids all went to stupidly expensive schools. My cousins are all in law school or med school or marrying finance guys with vacation homes. And then there’s me.”

Victoria lowers her textbook a little more. “Forks College Rachel.”

Rachel smiles, but it doesn’t fully land. “Forks College Rachel.”

Naomi frowns. “That doesn’t make you a disappointment.”

Rachel glances at her like she doesn’t quite know what to do with being contradicted gently. “Tell that to my grandmother. She cried when I didn’t get into Yale.”

Victoria’s mouth falls open. “Shut up.”

“I wish I was kidding.”

“What did your parents say?” you ask.

Rachel swallows, then takes a drink. “My dad told me there were worse things in life than disappointing your family. My mom told me there was always the option to transfer later.” She laughs once, but it comes out thin. “So. You know. Different vibes.”

For a moment, nobody says anything.

The room hums softly around you, the heater clicking, pages shifting as Naomi absently straightens her notes, the distant rush of a car passing outside.

Then Victoria, quieter than usual, says, “That sucks.”

Rachel lifts one shoulder. “Yeah.”

There’s no dramatic breakthrough after that. No movie moment. Just the slow, strange comfort of the silence not turning hostile.

You take a sip of your wine and say, “Portland State turned me away.”

Rachel’s eyes flick to you. “Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“What the hell?”

You let out a soft laugh. “Exactly.”

Naomi looks between the two of you. “You guys are having a moment. Should I leave?”

Victoria gasps. “Don’t ruin it.”

Rachel rolls her eyes, but some of the tension leaks out of her shoulders.

“It’s not that deep,” she mutters.

But then, maybe because the wine’s warm in her system, or because the apartment feels safe in a way she didn’t expect it to, or because once a person starts saying things they usually keep packed away it’s hard to know where the stopping point is, she keeps going.

“There was this girl,” Rachel says, so abruptly that it takes the room half a beat to catch up. Her gaze stays locked on her glass. “When I was younger. Like… middle school into freshman year kind of younger.”

Victoria doesn’t move.

Naomi doesn’t either.

You stay very, very still.

Rachel laughs under her breath, but it isn’t a happy sound. “She was my best friend. We did everything together. Sleepovers, camp, soccer for one miserable season because her parents thought team sports would ‘build character.’ We were always at each other’s houses. Always texting. Always…” She trails off.

The silence stretches, but not unkindly.

“And?” Naomi asks gently after a second.

Rachel’s mouth presses into a line. “And nothing.”

Victoria’s brows lift just slightly, but she’s smart enough not to push.

Rachel stares down at the dark red in her glass. “I mean, not nothing. We were kids. But also—” She stops again, jaw tightening in a way that tells you there’s more there than she intends to give. “It got weird. Her family moved. We stopped talking because what was there to talk about anymore? End of story.”

It is very obviously not the end of the story.

But she’s done. You can feel it.

She lifts her glass and drains what’s left of it in one go, expression sharpening back into something more familiar. Guarded. Curated. Rachel-shaped.

Victoria, to her credit, only says, “That would mess with anybody.”

Rachel gives her a look. “Don’t psychoanalyze me.”

“I literally didn’t.”

Naomi reaches for the bottle and tips it toward Rachel’s glass. “More?”

Rachel holds it out. “Please.”

The mood never gets maudlin. Thank God.

It brightens incrementally, though.

Opens up just enough that the next hour passes in a softer rhythm than the start of the evening had. Naomi talks about growing up in Washington, about how her family still sends her home with enough leftovers to feed an army every time she visits. Victoria tells a story about breaking her wrist in eighth grade trying to ollie off a curb because some girl she liked was watching, which gets enough laughter out of all of you that Naomi almost spills her wine. You talk about Portland, about tutoring, about the weird ache of leaving a city you never thought you loved all that much only to realize you miss it in specific stupid ways, your coffee spot, your bus route, the exact smell of your mom’s house after it rains.

Rachel listens more than she talks after that. But she listens differently now.

Less like she’s waiting to be entertained. More like she’s measuring what everyone says against herself.

The second glass of wine is what does it.

Not enough to make you sloppy, not enough to have you spilling your guts against your will, but enough to warm your face and melt the part of your brain that usually keeps a hand clamped over your mouth. Enough that when Rachel starts in again, this time not about the Kims exactly, but about your classes, your professors, how “Professor Collins looks like he sleeps in a coffin” and how “Art would be better if Modez had better taste in charcoal”, you don’t think before speaking.

“Phillips is weird with me.”

The words fall into the room almost lazily, like they don’t know they’ve changed everything.

Naomi’s pen pauses over her notes.

Victoria looks up first, brows furrowing.

Even Rachel stills a little, the stem of her wine glass hovering halfway to her mouth.

“What do you mean weird?” Naomi asks softly.

You stare down into your glass, watching the dark red slide against the curve of it when you tilt your wrist. “I don’t know,” you mutter. “Just… weird. Too familiar. Too comfortable.”

Victoria sets her textbook aside entirely. “Define that.”

You shrug one shoulder, suddenly wishing you’d kept your mouth shut, but the wine’s already loosened the knot and now the thread keeps pulling. “He keeps checking in on me. Which, okay, fine, he’s my professor, whatever. But it doesn’t feel like that. It feels like…” You grimace, searching for the right word. “Like he’s trying to make it seem like we have some understanding or something. Like we’re in on a private conversation nobody else can hear.”

Rachel lowers her glass. “That’s gross.”

“Yeah,” you say, quieter now. “It is.”

Naomi’s expression has gone pinched in that gentle, worried way of hers. “Has he actually said anything out of line?”

You shake your head almost immediately. “No, not really. That’s what’s pissing me off.” You laugh once, humorless. “It’s all technically harmless, I guess. It just…” You look up then, meeting Victoria’s eyes before glancing away. “It makes my skin crawl.”

Nobody jokes.

Nobody interrupts.

The room stays very still around the confession, all that easy warmth from a minute ago settling into something more attentive.

“What’s he doing?” Victoria asks, voice flatter now. Colder.

You tuck one leg beneath yourself on the couch and exhale through your nose. “He keeps hovering. Complimenting stupid things. Acting like he’s checking in because he cares how I’m adjusting here, but it never feels like that. It feels like he’s trying to—” You cut yourself off, frustrated. “I don’t know. Get comfortable. Make me comfortable. Or make it look like I’m comfortable.”

Rachel’s nose wrinkles. “Oh, that is such a type of man.”

You glance at her, a little surprised at how quickly she says it. She catches the look and rolls her eyes, but there’s no sting in it.

“I grew up around rich restaurant people,” she says. “There’s always one. Usually with a scarf and a weird obsession with mentorship.”

Victoria makes a face. “Ew.”

“Exactly.”

Naomi shifts closer on the couch, cardigan sleeve pushed over her hand. “Did he touch you?”

“No,” you answer. “Not like that. He’ll crouch near my desk or stop beside me and comment on my notes or whatever, but…” You swallow. “It’s the way he says things. The way he looks at me after. Like he’s waiting for me to play along.”

Naomi’s mouth tightens.

Victoria’s jaw does too.

Rachel, to your mild surprise, looks furious.

“Okay,” Victoria says after a moment. “So he’s a creep.”

You let out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “Thank you.”

“No, seriously,” she says. “That’s creepy. I know creepy. Pastor energy was not a joke.”

That gets the smallest smile out of you.

Rachel leans back in her chair, arms folding over her chest. “Have other people noticed?”

Your mind flashes to the classroom yesterday. To Jungkook beside you, too close and too aware in that way he always seems to be. To the sound of his soft throat-clear when Phillips lingered too long. To the way he and Seokjin had gone oddly quiet while your professor stood over your desk smiling like he’d earned it.

You stare at your glass again.

“I think Jungkook did,” you say finally.

That gets everyone’s attention for a completely different reason.

Naomi blinks. “Jungkook?”

You nod. “Yesterday. In Drama. Phillips came over to my desk after class and was doing his whole check-in thing, and Jungkook was still there with Seokjin. He kept clearing his throat, like—” You make a vague gesture with your fingers. “I don’t know. Like he was trying to break it up. Or remind Phillips he wasn’t the only person in the room.”

Victoria’s eyes narrow with interest. “Oh?”

“It was weird,” you say quickly. “Not weird like that. Just… he was there for it. He definitely heard enough to know something was off.”

Rachel is watching you with a look that’s half-curious, half-thoughtful. “And did he say anything?”

“No.” You shake your head. “Not directly. But when I left, Jin looked at me all…” You trail off and grimace. “I don’t know. Apologetic, almost.”

Naomi’s brows knit together. “That’s kind of telling.”

You shrug, the motion sloppy this time from the wine. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it because I already felt gross.”

“No,” Victoria says immediately. “If a man is weirding you out, and another man in the room notices, you are not reading too much into it. That’s just survival instincts.”

Rachel hums into her wine. “Especially if the second man is usually busy being hot and mysterious instead of socially aware.”

You cut her a look.

She lifts her shoulders. “What? I’m right.”

You hate that she kind of is.

Naomi reaches over and nudges your knee gently. “You don’t have to brush this off just because he hasn’t technically crossed some huge line.”

You look at her.

She holds your gaze.

“That’s still enough,” she says quietly. “If he’s making you feel weird, that’s enough.”

For a second, something in your chest eases. Not all the way, and definitely not enough to disappear. But enough.

“I know,” you murmur. “I just feel stupid saying it out loud when it all sounds so small.”

“It doesn’t sound small,” Rachel says, sharper than usual, like she’s annoyed on your behalf now. “It sounds calculated.”

You blink at her.

She rolls her eyes immediately, like she regrets being perceptive in public. “Don’t make that face.”

“What face?”

“That one,” she mutters. “Like you’re surprised I occasionally have a functioning brain.”

Victoria snorts.

Naomi smiles into her glass.

You laugh then, soft and brief, but real.

Rachel points a finger at you. “But if he says anything weird again, I want details.”

“Rachel—”

“No, seriously. I’m not saying go nuclear over one off feeling, but if he keeps doing it? That’s a pattern.”

Victoria nods. “Agreed.”

Naomi adds, “And don’t stay after class alone with him if you can help it.”

You sink a little deeper into the couch, warmth from the wine and the room and their attention settling over you all at once. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good,” Victoria says.

Rachel tips the rest of her wine back and sets the glass down with a soft click. “Also, just for the record, if Jungkook noticed and looked concerned, that means it was probably very obvious.”

You groan and tip your head back against the couch cushion. “Please don’t make this about him.”