yn mood

What he did mind, however, was his ex-wife appearing in his doorway at 12:17 on a Saturday, voice already carrying the news that killed his appetite and, for a fleeting second, his will to keep breathing.

“You can’t just spring this on me.” Jin shoved the door shut harder than intended; the click echoed in the empty office.

“I’m not.” Hiah crossed her arms, bag thudding into the chair beside his mahogany desk. “The trip isn’t for another week. You have time to get organized.”

He wheezed a laugh that tasted bitter. “Get organi– You’re asking me to change my life.”

“I’m asking you to look after your daughter for a month.” she corrected, as if there was a difference.

The headache bloomed behind his eyes, hot and familiar. They’d stayed civil after the divorce, too much shared history for real hatred, too much love once for indifference. Nabi lived with Hiah during the week, and her weekends stayed with him. It worked. Mostly. Hiah’s family company gave her the kind of flexibility that his own CEO role never would.

“Unless you’d prefer I take her with me.” her sigh was tired; she’d known this conversation was coming.

“Then I wouldn’t see her for a month.” Jin’s voice flattened.

“What do you want me to do, Seokjin? Skip a critical work trip? You know I don’t have a choice.” she pointed out in return.

“What about what’s-his-name?”

Jin didn’t like the new boyfriend, he was too young, too idle, sugar-baby-turned-partner, but the man was kind to Nabi. Still. The thought of him alone with his daughter still twisted something protective in Seokjin’s chest.

The woman replied way too easily: “He’s coming with me.”

“Of course he is.” Seokjin scoffed, the sound scraping his dry throat.

“Don’t be like that. I didn’t come for permission. I’m letting you know I’ll be gone for a month.” Hiah’s tone made it sound like Seokjin didn’t have an actual choice at all. “You can keep Nabi, or she’s coming with me. Decide.”

Seokjing had no real choice here, so he nodded once, jaw tight. He’d make it work. Rearrange meetings. Be home more. Somehow.

Seokjin walked Hiah out of his office, leading her to the elevator without saying another word. The whole floor was pretty empty, it was a Saturday afterall, which is why his ex-wife knew it would be okay to come over today. 

After waving his ex off with a tired smile, Seokjin returned to his office to find Namjoon and Yoongi already waiting for him there. One of them sported a frown –might have been the youngest– and the other had a grin plastered on his face –might have been the oldest–.

“What did the witch want?” Namjoon asked as soon as Seokjin closed the door to give them a resemblance of privacy. 

The three of them had been friends well before they were ever co-workers, so the two men knew all that involved Hiah and their failed relationship. 

“She’s going to America for a month with her new boy toy and calling it work.” Seokjin crossed to his desk, stomach cramping from skipped food, head still throbbing. 

“Oof, that’s rough.” Yoongi scoffed. “She taking Nabi?” 

Seokjin shook his head, sinking into his chair. The leather creaked under him. “Nabi is staying with me, so that’s good.” 

“Then why the long face?” Yoongi asked, even if he already knew the answer to that question. 

“I’m barely home during the week, how am I going to look after her?” Seokjin ran a hand through his raven hair, slouching against his chair in a way he’d never allow anyone else to see. 

“Don’t you have a housekeeper that’s there every day?” Namjoon questioned, leaning back against his own chair. 

“Yeah, but Mrs. Bak is old. She can’t keep up with an almost two year old and take care of the house at the same time.” Seokjin’s head fell back, staring at the bright white ceiling. 

“Doesn’t Nabi have a hot sitter already? She’s young, looks to be in good shape.” the wiggle in Yoongi’s eyebrows made Seokjin regret ever letting his best friend meet you. 

“Ah yes, the hot babysitter. There, problem solved.” Namjoon nodded, sharing the feeling behind Yoongi’s sly smile. “More than one problem could be solved if you just–”

“Her name is Yn. And she’s only Nabi’s sitter during the weekends.” he interrupted, ears hot from the new direction of the subject. 

Yoongi shrugged. “So? Pay her more and have her there everyday.”

You had been working for him for the past six months, so it’s not like you were a total stranger. But then again, this wasn’t the deal you had when he first hired you. Seokjin knew you were taking classes, and the commute to and from his home every night, then going to university… Even if the pay was good, it would still be too much.

“So here’s a crazy idea.” Yoongi announced. “Why don’t you just ask her to live at your place for a month? Then she’d always be there to help you. And Nabi goes to a daycare right? Yn could still go to class then.”

In theory, that sounded like a perfect solution. Simple. Easy. 

But, to Seokjin, nothing was ever easy when it came to you. 

"I'm leaving, Yn." 

The kind voice of Mrs. Bak called out as you were in the living room with Nabi. The toddler was starting to grow sleepy from a full tummy, getting a little fussy, but you always tried keeping her awake in time for Mr. Kim to get home so he could be the one to tuck her in for the night.

It didn't always work, and it looked like today was just one of those days. 

"Let's say bye-bye to Mrs. Bak?" you asked the little girl, smiling as her little chubby hand opened and closed as she did what looked a lot like a little wave. 

You picked Nabi up from her play mat somewhat effortlessly, propping her on your hip so you could both walk the old lady to the door. 

"Mr. Kim must be coming home soon." Mrs. Bak told you as she pulled her personal bag over one shoulder. "There’s food for him in the fridge. Make sure he eats, please." 

"Of course. Have a good weekend, Mrs. Bak." you smiled at her, bouncing Nabi on your arm to get her to wave again. "Say bye-bye."

"Ba ba ba." Nabi babbled, twirling her little hand with a small giggle as you bounced her higher. 

"Bye-bye, sweet girls." 

You closed the entrance door, hearing the automatic lock slot into place. Nabi was still smiling when you brought her into the bathroom of her suite bedroom, where the bathtub was slowly filling up. Out of all the kids you ever babysat before, she was the only one who never cried during bath time, always enjoying being in the water. 

Closing the faucet when there was enough water for you to wash the little girl, you checked the temperature written on the fancy turtle shaped thermometer floating inside the tub. 

"Dada?" Nabi asked as you undressed her.

"Sorry, tooks, appa's not home yet."

Her lip wobbled, so you rushed her into the water before the tears could start, handing her the rubber duck and bright pink dolphin. She slapped at them happily, droplets flecking your cheek, giggles echoing off the tiles.

You knelt on the bath mat, sleeves pushed up, carefully washing her while she played. Nabi didn’t understand why her Appa was gone so much, only that she missed him. You felt it too, the ache of their limited time together, the weekends stitched together like rare moments rather than a constant.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, breaking you out of your solemn thoughts. Keeping one eye on Nabi, you fished it out to open the text thread:

Hobito: we’re on our way there rn, yall close?

Gguk: i’m waiting for noona to get here so we can go….

Jiminie: she’s still with the 🥵 dilf?

You: still at WORK 🤨

You: you can go ahead gguk I dunno how much longer I’ll have to stay here. I’ll just meet you guys at the bar. 

It was half past seven when your boss arrived home, thirty minutes after you were supposed to meet your friends for drinks at your favorite bar. Nabi was already out like a light, and you were ready to leave, just sitting on the couch with all of your things packed up when the front door opened.

And then Kim Seokjin walked in and every intention to leave evaporated.

Six months of Saturdays and Sundays, and you still weren’t used to him. The word on the street –as told by Mrs. Bak– was that Seokjin’s mother had been Miss Korea back in the day, and he had definitely inherited her genes. 

If he just had the looks, you might have a little more luck when it came to controlling your ever growing –and extremely forbidden– crush on the man. But on top of that, Seokjin was a good man, extremely kind, always treated you with nothing but gentleness, and a very dedicated father. He was a good seven years older than you, too. And you didn’t know why that mattered, but the deepest, darkest parts of you liked that extra fact. 

“Hi, Yn. I’m sorry I’m so late.” he greeted you with a soft, and extremely tired, smile. “How is she?” 

“Passed out.” you replied with a smile that matched his earnestness. “I tried keeping her awake for you, I’m sorry.” 

The man shook his head, letting his briefcase rest on the closest armchair, like he couldn’t be bothered to put it away right now. 

Seokjin had planned on coming home hours ago, in hopes of spending some quality time with his daughter, maybe talking to you for longer than rushed hellos and dragged goodbyes. But thanks to a system failure in his company, he had to stay longer in the office than he’d liked. 

And now his baby was already asleep, he was exhausted and you were clearly ready to leave. 

“I’m just going to see her real quick, okay?” he spoke with a small sigh, hesitating before adding: “I’d like to speak to you before you go, if you have five minutes to spare.” 

“Yeah, of course.” you nodded with that sweet smile you always had for him, no matter how hard your day had been. You liked playing it off as if his baby was an angel, and most times she was, but Nabi was still a toddler, nearing her terrible twos. And Seokjin noticed the pink marker stain on your new jeans, when it hadn’t been there this morning, along with the very wet spot on your shoulder, probably the result of an eventful bath time. 

Still, you never added any more pressure onto him, never complained. Never nagged him about the amount of extra hours you had to do while waiting for him to get home so you could go on your way. 

And that made it really hard for him to remain neutral when it came to you. To ignore how pretty he thought that damn smile was, how expressive your eyes were and, fuck, sometimes his tired brain ran away from him and made him think about you in other ways. 

Inappropriate ways. 

Ways he should not think about his kid’s babysitter. 

When Seokjin walked into Nabi’s bedroom, he was careful not to wake her. The room was dark, except for the moon shaped night light resting on her dresser. Seokjin leaned over her crib, watching his baby sleep soundly. She was the reason he worked so hard, so he could give her a life where nothing would ever be missing. 

But it still hurt him to think that maybe the only thing missing from it right now was him. 

Seokjin pulled her pink fuzzy blanket higher over her little body, whispering a small ‘sweet dreams’ before leaving the bedroom to meet you outside. 

He found you in the kitchen, pulling out a container of food from the fridge, bags abandoned on his couch and your coat left somewhere in the living room. Seokjin liked how comfortable you were inside his home, instead of being put off by the fact that you moved with more certainty than he had most days. 

“She’s still sleeping?” he heard you ask, answering you with a nod as he begged his brain to behave. “Good. Mrs. Bak left you some dinner, would you like me to heat it up?”

“I’m craving something fresher. Would you eat with me?” his lips were moving before he could stop himself, catching the small twitch of your eyebrows and the quicker blink of your eyes. “Unless you have plans, of course. Which I guess you do, it’s a saturday night after all–”

“No, no plans at all!” you shook your head, pausing his quick spilling of words. “How can I help?” 

“Can you make rice?” 

Your scoff brought a new smile to his lips. As you mumbled about your abilities in the kitchen, Seokjin started to gather the ingredients he needed for a quick bibimbap dish. His kitchen was big enough for the two of you to move around each other without bumping around, but you still did. 

Maybe he walked too close to you on his way to the stove, just so his arm could brush yours. 

And maybe you walked in front of him to grab a spoon, when there was a lot more space to pass behind him. 

It was during times like these that made him believe that maybe his inappropriate thoughts weren’t actually one sided.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Mr. Kim?”

You asked the man, trying to mask your nervousness. 

From the time he asked you to wait because he wanted to speak to you until now, at least a handful of scenarios had coursed through your brain. While you didn’t necessarily need this job to survive, you weren’t particularly interested in searching for a new one either; not to mention you had grown quite fond of Nabi to not be upset if you were about to be fired. 

You also didn’t think Seokjin would be cooking for you right now if letting you go was his intention. 

The man snorted a little laugh. “Please, I’m not that much older than you. I told you Jin is fine.”

You smiled sheepishly, because he had repeated many times not to call him by his last name. And you did try, but calling him by his nickname made you feel a little flustered. And you didn’t need anymore reasons to be blushing around him. 

The way he had pushed his sleeves to his elbows and undid the top two buttons of his light blue dress shirt was face-warming enough. 

“Hiah, my uh– Nabi’s eomma. She’s going out of town for a while. For a month.” the man told you as he fried sliced vegetables on a pan. “Nabi will be staying with me for the entirety of her trip, so I would need you to be here everyday. Not only on the weekends.” 

“I see.” you nodded slowly, knowing Nabi would love to spend that much time with her dad, but knowing it would definitely be a change for Seokjin’s routine.

“I understand it's not the original agreement we had, but I wouldn't want to find someone else to look after Nabi…” Jin turned to you then, forgetting the vegetables to hit you with his best pleading eyes. “And she likes you so much–” 

“You don’t have to convince me, Mr. Ki– Jin.” you reassured him, tilting your head. “I don’t mind the extra work days.”

You would have to move a few things around and would probably get behind on your studies, but this new deal would be just for a month… And you were mostly taking online classes this semester, so you could make your own schedule. You could make this work, if it meant making things easier for Nabi and her dad.

“Really? You’d be doing me a very big favor. You’ll get paid for this, of course, and you can take the weekends off. Hiah really just threw this on me, I don’t know what I would do if you didn’t agree.” Seokjin had a way of spilling phrase after phrase when he got nervous, which you thought was endearing and slightly funny. 

You waited for him to finish so you could ask: “Will the schedule remain the same?”

“Ah, well. So.” you watched as he changed the pans on the stove top so the vegetables could rest while the pieces of meat fried. “Unfortunately, I need to stay later in the office during the weekdays. I’ll try to change my schedule for the month, but I don’t know how that’s gonna work.”

You frowned, nibbling on your lip as a thought crossed your mind: “I live a little too far away from here, so I have to check the bus’ hours–” 

“Yeah, I thought about that too.” Seokjin turned his back, wide shoulders blocking your view, but you still saw the tips of his ears growing a shade darker. “I can prepare the guest bedroom for you. If you wouldn’t mind staying here for that period of time.” 

JULY 3RD | 15:19

"So let me see if I got it right." Hoseok was laying on your bed as if it belonged to him. "You're about to spend a whole month living at your boss' house?" 

"The man you've had a crush on ever since you met him." Jimin added, laying next to Hoseok. 

"Not that deep, guys. Mr. Kim needs my help, so why would I say no?" you shrugged, giving them your back to stare at, rather than letting them read your expression like an open picture book. 

It was the Sunday you were supposed to temporarily move into Kim Seokjin’s home and you were still packing your suitcase. Jimin and Hoseok had invited themselves over to help you, but all they were doing was putting ideas on your mind and hope in your heart. 

"See, babe? Mr. Kim needs her help." Jimin told Hobi with a wiggle of his eyebrows. 

You rolled your eyes, even if they couldn’t see it. "I'm never telling either of you shit ever again."

"Go easy on her, babe, she's still in denial." Hoseok told Jimin in return, the both of them giggling like the disgusting couple they were turning into. 

"I'm not in denial!" you said, too defensively for your own liking. As you moved around your room to pick up whatever you thought you might need, you continued: "Do I think Seokjin is very attractive? Yes I do. Do I have crush-like feelings for him? Sure. Do I think something will ever happen? Absolutely not. See? Not in denial."

"You wish something would happen, though." Jimin piped up, sitting on your mattress. "Your cousin is not here, you don't have to lie to us." 

"I'm going to work,” your sigh was exasperated. “I can't be thinking about any of this." 

"Look, all we're saying is you're both grown adults. As long as what you do doesn't affect his kid, you don't have to be so hard on yourself." Hobi reasoned. “The Yn I know goes for what she wants.” 

“What I want right now is to finish packing before he gets here.” 

You ran away from both boys when you walked into your bathroom to pick up your toiletries. Seokjin had told you he’d have the guest bedroom ready for you, and you knew it had its own bathroom, but you shouldn’t expect him to provide you with basic things like a toothbrush. Right?

Once you came back into your room, Jimin was nowhere to be seen. By the noise you could hear coming from the living room, Jeongguk was home now, which meant Jimin was most likely annoying him, or getting annoyed by him. 

Your best friend, however, stayed behind.

Hoseok was folding the clothes you had somewhat carelessly thrown into your small suitcase and he was doing a much better job of it. Suddenly half of the space was cleared out and you had more of it left. 

Hoseok lifted his head when you approached. "You're not gonna be held hostage, right?" 

"No, Hoba, I have my weekends off." you assured him. "We can still see each other during the week too, just gotta plan first." 

The man helped you zip up your bag and carried it to the living room, where his current-fling was playing video games with your cousin. As you changed your cotton shorts for denim jeans, your phone buzzed with a new notification.

Mr. Kim: We’re outside, you can come out whenever you’re ready!

You: Coming right out!

It was a Sunday, so Mrs. Bak wasn’t working, which meant Nabi would be with Seokjin and you were always really excited to see her. Which would explain the thump on your heart; it had nothing to do with her father waiting outside. At all. 

“Noona, if he does anything, you call me and I’ll fix it, okay?” Jeongguk said as he waited with you in the hallway, trying to look more menacing than he actually was. 

“Don’t worry, Gguk, I promise I’ll be alright.” you held back a small laugh. 

You squeezed your cousin into a hug before the elevator reached your floor. Jeongguk was only a few months younger than you, and you had grown up together so he felt more like a younger brother. Of course he was huge now, in height and muscles. 

“Text me later!” Hoseok’s voice was heard between squeals and TV noises. 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t fuck on my bed!” you warned, dead serious. “Byeee.” 

Jeongguk waved until the elevator’s door closed, and you held the little wave back until the last sliver of his grin disappeared behind the narrowing seam. 

The doors opened again a minute later, and the lobby smelled faintly like polished stone and someone’s expensive cologne, the air conditioning too cold against your arms after the warmth of the upper floors. Your shoes clicked across the glossy tile as you crossed toward the glass doors, and you caught your own reflection for a second, a flicker of nerves in your posture that you smoothed out before you could think too hard about it.

Outside, the heat hit you all at once again. It clung to your skin and pressed against your lungs, turning the air thick with exhaust and sun-baked concrete. The brightness made you squint, and you lifted a hand to shield your eyes while you scanned the street, blinking through the glare. It took a few seconds to find the car, parked across the way like it had been there countless times; dark paint throwing back sharp flashes of light whenever a bus rolled past. 

Seokjin stepped out and the sunlight made him look sharper around the edges, crisp shirt sleeves, watch glinting when he adjusted the keys in his hand. The Ray-Bans hid his eyes, which somehow made him harder to read and easier to stare at all at once. He looked like he belonged in a magazine spread about men who never sweated, even though the heat was brutal, even though you watched the faintest shine start at his temple the moment he paused to look at you. He was smiling already, easy and practiced, but there was something under it that didn’t feel like the version of him you got on weekends. Something tighter at the corners.

You felt it anyway. The small shift in the air when he was focused on you. The way your name seemed to take up space in his mouth even when he wasn’t saying it.

"Hi! Let me get that for you." the man was smiling, reaching for your suitcase, polite as ever.

"Oh, thank you!" your voice came out lighter than you meant it to. 

You forced your fingers to loosen, to let him take the weight without making a big deal out of it, but you still felt the brief brush of his hand against yours. It was nothing, you told yourself. It was a complete accident. Yet it was still enough to make you aware of the inside of your wrist for the next three seconds.

Seokjin lifted your bag like it weighed nothing, and you hated the way your brain catalogued it. The flex of his forearm, the clean efficiency of the motion, the fact that he didn’t fumble, didn’t hesitate.

For a second you hovered beside the vehicle, hand on the door, caught between instincts. Your job was Nabi, she was the whole reason for this change in your own routine, so your place was in the backseat with her. But this was Seokjin’s car, and Seokjin was driving, and there was something about sitting beside him that felt too much like a temptation for you to ignore.

You glanced through the backseat window, finding that the choice had already been made for you. The seat beside the baby chair was taken over completely, Nabi’s oversized diaper bag sprawled across it, straps tangled and a little plush toy clipped to the zipper swinging gently with the motion of the car settling.

Front seat it was.

You pulled the door open and slipped into the car, immediately twisting in your seat and reaching back without thinking, your attention snapping into that familiar, practical focus that always came with Nabi. Her cheeks were pink from the heat, fine hair doing that soft baby halo thing that never stayed where anyone put it, and she was half sunk into the padding of her car seat like it was the most natural throne in the world.

"Hi, tooks." you leaned back to poke at her half-covered tummy, fingertips gentle. Nabi squealed and curled, hands immediately going to her own belly. She’d been obsessed with her belly button lately, like it was a discovery she couldn’t believe belonged to her. "Ohhh look at your piggies! Appa's getting better with your hair."

A few stubborn strands still stuck up at the crown, but the little pigtails were actually holding, and that alone felt like an achievement.

"Dada!" she agreed with a sweet baby giggle, bouncing her pudgy legs hard enough to make the whole seat shift a fraction.

You laughed under your breath, soft and automatic. "They almost look symmetrical today."

The driver’s side door opened and closed, and the car dipped slightly with Seokjin’s weight. You didn’t look right away, which was ridiculous, because of course he was there. Of course he was sitting a few centimeters away. But you still felt the change in the space, the way the quiet settled differently once he was inside it.

Seokjin cleared his throat, and when you finally glanced forward, you caught the faintest bashfulness in the set of his mouth. It wasn’t dramatic, it was just there, in the way his hand went to the back of his neck for half a second before dropping, in the way he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel like he was checking that he was doing this correctly.

He reached toward the dashboard and picked up a laminated sheet, the edges catching the light. He held it out to you without quite looking at your face, like he was offering evidence that he had everything handled.

"That's Nabi's weekly schedule." he told you, and you could hear the pride he was trying to keep casual. "Her mother usually took her to these, but I already let them know you'd be the one to go with her for now."

You took it, doing a quick scan with your eyes. There were color-coded blocks. Little icons. Neat labels. The kind of organization that screamed overreaction.

“Okay.” you kept your tone professional as you nodded. 

You lowered your gaze to the page as he pulled away from the curb, the city sliding past the windows in bright, shimmering strips. You read through the schedule while Seokjin merged into traffic, the hum of the engine steady under your feet. Most days Nabi had daycare, which would be good. It meant a few hours where you could breathe, catch up on projects, work on your assignments without a toddler climbing your lap like a jungle gym. There was a baby swimming lesson once a week too, and you could already picture her in one of those tiny floaties, furious and delighted at the same time.

But then–

“Speech therapy?” you asked with a frown, eyes dropping back to the laminated schedule. “She’s not even two.”

Seokjin’s hands stayed steady on the wheel. He didn’t look at you, but you caught the tightness in his jaw, the way his gaze stayed fixed ahead as if the road required all of him.

“Her eomma thinks she should know more words by now,” he said, voice even, CEO-like, as if he was presenting a decision that had already been made. “And I agree.”

You turned in your seat to glance back at Nabi. She was strapped in, round cheeks, toes flexing in her little socks as she kicked at nothing. Her hands were busy with the strap across her chest, fingers exploring it like it was new every time.

“She knows words.” you said, softer now, because Nabi was right there, because it felt wrong to talk about her like she couldn’t hear you. “She asks for apple juice when she wants it.”

Seokjin exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh. “‘Apu joof’ is not knowing words.”

“Apu joof!” from the backseat, like she’d been waiting for her cue, Nabi chirped with little claps and an enthusiastic kick that thumped her heel against the car seat.

“See?” you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at you. 

Seokjin’s mouth twitched, the closest he got to an actual smile, and then it was gone. He kept his eyes on the road, shoulders still too straight, and you felt the line he was holding between being a father and being a man who was expected to be perfect at everything.

You swallowed the rest of what you wanted to say. You were torn between defending a tiny toddler and knowing your place as the babysitter, as the employee, as someone who didn’t get to have opinions unless asked.

Seokjin didn’t say anything else, either. The silence wasn’t harsh, but it was a boundary, and you read it the way you’d learned to read him.

So you let it go.

The city moved around you in a bright blur. Heat shimmered off the pavement. The air conditioner hummed cold against your arms. The laminated sheet stayed in your lap like something heavy even though it weighed almost nothing.

After a minute, Seokjin spoke again, as if the previous topic had been filed away. “You have a driver’s license, right?”

“I do, yeah–” you glanced up, and the storefront ahead made you pause. A familiar sign, white lettering on dark glass, a place you’d been too many times to count. Relief came quick and impulsive, like your body was looking for a safe detour out of the tension. “Oh, look. Are you hungry? There’s a great coffee shop just up ahead.”

For a beat, Seokjin didn’t respond. You could almost see him toggling through all the things he still needed to tell you; Hiah’s notes, the schedule, rules, expectations. He looked like a man who lived by lists. Stopping for coffee wasn’t on the list.

Then his eyes flicked toward the shop. Toward the open parking spot just up ahead. Toward you, for half a second behind the sunglasses, quick enough that you couldn’t read the look but long enough to feel it.

He signaled and pulled in.

The moment the car settled into the parking spot, the atmosphere shifted. Less motion, less distance, just the three of you in a contained space. Seokjin turned the engine off, and the sudden quiet made Nabi’s little noises feel louder, more present.

“I’ll get her.” he said, already unbuckling his seatbelt.

You watched him leave the car and go to his daughter, careful and practiced in a way that still looked slightly new on him, unfastening Nabi’s straps with a gentleness that didn’t match his earlier firmness. He lifted her out, and she went pliant against his shoulder for two seconds before she craned her neck, looking for you.

You stepped out into the heat, the sun immediately finding your skin again. The sidewalk outside the shop was warm under your shoes. A soft breeze carried the smell of baked sugar and coffee through the door every time someone went in or out.

You waited near the entrance while Seokjin locked the car, Nabi perched on his hip. The little wisps of hair he’d half managed to tame into pigtails brushed his cheek with every bounce she gave, and he didn’t even flinch. He just adjusted his hold and walked toward you, expression light like he hadn’t just gotten into a disagreement about speech therapy five minutes ago.

Inside, the café was cooler, dimmer. The air smelled like espresso and cinnamon and toasted dough, comforting enough that it softened something in your chest. The line moved slowly, people chatting in low voices, cups clinking behind the counter.

Seokjin stood beside you, Nabi in his arms, and you became absurdly aware of how close his shoulder was to yours. How his presence took up space in a way that made you want to step away and also… not.

“What’s good here?” he asked, glancing up at the menu like he’d never once had to choose something for himself without an assistant.

“Everything. But the cinnamon rolls are to die for.” you said. Then, because you couldn’t help it, because you wanted to break the stiffness that still lingered between you, you leaned in toward Nabi. You pointed at the toddler’s thighs, all soft baby roundness, and your voice dropped into the tone you always used with her. “Not as good as these rolls.”

You pretended to nibble at Nabi’s leg.

Nabi shrieked with laughter, squirming so hard Seokjin had to tighten his hold. She swatted at you with clumsy little hands, face scrunched in delighted outrage, and you leaned back just enough to let her “win.”

Then she lunged.

One second she was in Seokjin’s arms, the next she was throwing herself toward you like she’d decided this was the correct place to be. Seokjin’s body reacted, arms shifting instinctively, but he hesitated for a fraction too long like you weren’t supposed to be the one she reached for like that.

You didn’t hesitate, catching her easily, settling her against your chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. And Seokjin’s heart did a thing he refused to name. He blinked once, expression unchanged, but his hand stayed lifted for a beat as if it had forgotten what it was doing. Then he lowered it, clearing his throat.

“And what will you drink?” he asked, tone carefully neutral, like he hadn’t just watched his daughter choose you.

“Iced americano, please.”

You shifted Nabi on your hip, already reaching for your bag to grab your wallet, but your hands were full, Nabi’s fingers grabbing at your shirt collar like she owned you.

Seokjin moved faster, but not in a cutting way. More like he’d already decided you shouldn’t have to juggle a toddler and a wallet at the same time. His phone was out before you even found the zipper, thumb already on the payment app.

“Jin–” you started, reflex more than protest.

He finally looked at you then, just for a second, and there was a softness there that made your stomach dip. 

“It’s fine.” he said, quiet, almost reassuring. “I invited you into this. Let me take care of it.”

The words should have felt simple and practical, placing the orders at the cashier before you could protest any longer. 

Seokjin chose a table by the glass wall, sunlight spilling across the wood. A high chair sat nearby, abandoned by the previous family, and Nabi’s expression soured immediately at the sight of it, little mouth turning down like she’d been personally offended.

“She’s not going to like that.” you murmured.

 “Yeah,” he glanced at his daughter and his mouth quirked, the edge of a smile tugging through. “I know.”

You sat and helped Nabi into the high chair anyway, because routines mattered and you were good at this. Nabi fussed, twisting and reaching for you with grabby hands, whimpering the moment you stepped back.

“It’s okay, tooks.” you soothed automatically, and Seokjin hovered for half a second like he wanted to reach in and fix it with his own hands. You grabbed the toothpick holder from the table and slid it toward her, tapping it lightly like it was fascinating. “Look. What’s this?”

Nabi’s eyes locked onto it and curiosity won. She poked at it with one finger, then two, then tried to pick it up with both hands as the tension in your shoulders eased a little.

Seokjin let out a breath, gaze softening as he watched you. It wasn’t just gratitude. It was that quiet, helpless kind of admiration that made him look away for a second and then look back, like he didn’t know what to do with how easy you made taking care of a toddler seem.

“How do you know this place?” he asked once the three of you settled, voice lower now as the café noise wrapped around you.

You tilted your head toward the window. “You see that tattoo shop across the street?”

He followed your gesture. Across the road, the hair-salon-turned-tattoo-shop sat with its lights off, shutters down because it was Sunday. The sign above it read Bangtan Ink, bold letters against the facade.

“My best friend owns it.” you said.

“Oh.”

Seokjin nodded, still looking where you’d pointed, like he was filing the detail away on purpose. Bangtan Ink was Hoseok’s long life dream, the quaint little place in Myeongdong. You had worked there as a receptionist for a couple months before he found someone nice enough to take your place.

Any questions he might have asked were interrupted when the Moonlight waitress arrived at your table with your drinks and pastries.

Nabi had been fully entertained by the toothpick holder, shaking it with both hands and squealing whenever a toothpick slipped free and clattered back into the little container. Each time it happened she giggled like it was the funniest trick in the world, cheeks lifting, eyes going crescent-shaped with delight.

But the second your dessert hit the table, it was like a switch flipped. Her head snapped toward the plate. Her whole body leaned forward in her chair as she reached with grabby hands, fingers opening and closing with urgent insistence. A soft whine built in her throat, half-demand, half-plea.

“You want it?” you asked, already tearing off a small piece before she could get her hands on the whole thing. The pastry was warm, the cinnamon smell rising in a sweet cloud as you broke it apart. Nabi watched every movement like you were performing magic. “Can you say ‘cinnamon roll’?”

Her mouth opened. Her brows pinched with concentration. A sound came out that was more enthusiasm than language, a string of babbles with the rhythm of a sentence, ending in a proud little chirp as if she’d nailed it.

Seokjin couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out of him, breathy and surprised, like it had been sitting in his chest waiting for permission. 

“Alright.” he said, shaking his head once, amusement softening his face. “I see what you’re doing.”

“She’s almost two.” your smile sharpened, eyes bright with it. “She should know how to say it.”

Jin knew you were teasing him. He also knew you weren’t doing it to make him feel small. You were doing it the way you did everything with Nabi, coaxing and playful, turning pressure into a game she could win. And for some reason, instead of bristling, he felt something loosen in him.

Seokjin watched you offer the bite to Nabi, watched the way you waited, patient and unhurried, letting her take it at her own pace. The way you wiped the corner of her mouth with your thumb without making a fuss. The way you talked to her like she was a person, not a job.

Maybe it was because you treated his daughter with a kind of care that always caught him off guard, like you didn’t even realize how rare it was.

Or maybe it was purely you. The easy warmth you carried into a space, the lightness in your smile. The way you made his life feel less like an obligation he was failing and more like something he could actually live in, even if it was only for a few minutes at a café table with cinnamon in the air and his daughter’s laughter filling the space between you.

Seokjin looked at you, then at Nabi, and felt the thought settle with unsettling clarity.

He was in big trouble.

JULY 7TH | 21:48

Nabi had been sleeping for several hours now, which meant you were supposed to be resting. She had only woken up again forty minutes ago, but overall you learned very quickly that she was a heavy sleeper. Living in someone else’s house –even if temporarily– was a little weird, and you were still getting used to it. 

It’s been four days since you moved in last Sunday, and taking care of a toddler everyday was a lot more daunting than you ever thought it would be. There were a lot more tantrums when she didn’t want to get ready for daycare, a lot more tears when you knew she was most likely missing her mother, and a hell of a lot more running around. 

But there were also a lot more cuddles, a lot more giggles and an overload of cuteness. Plus, it meant you could eat Mrs. Bak’s food everyday and didn’t have to cook at all. The woman did the cleaning and the cooking –adult food and baby food–, so you only had to worry about the toddler. 

The guest bedroom Seokjin had prepared for you was a lot bigger than your own, but it felt strangely untouched, like a hotel room someone forgot to bring life into. The sheets were crisp, the bedside lamp perfectly centered, the closet empty except for extra hangers. You told yourself you’d bring something small next time you went home, a candle, a framed photo, even one of your throw blankets, anything that made it feel less like you were intruding in the space.

That thought stayed with you as you crossed the living room on your way to the kitchen, bare feet quiet against the floor, the apartment hushed in that late-night way where even the air felt softer. Nabi had gone down without a fight for once, and the silence still carried a faint echo of her giggles.

“Hey–”

“Oh, shit!” your whole body jumped, hands flying to your chest as you veered toward the nearest wall switch. Light flooded the room, sudden and bright, and your heartbeat kicked up hard enough to make you dizzy for a second.

Seokjin hissed under his breath and blinked against the brightness, one hand lifting instinctively to shield his eyes. You felt your cheeks warm immediately, a mix of embarrassment and the lingering shock of almost having your soul leave your body.

When your pulse finally stopped trying to escape your ribs, you looked at Seokjin properly, sitting on his couch.

Jin’s shirt was still buttoned, but the crispness was gone, fabric wrinkled from hours of wear. His dark navy tie hung undone around his neck, the knot loosened and tilted, like he’d given up halfway through pretending the day hadn’t gotten to him. His hair was messy, not in a styled way, just genuinely out of place.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” his voice came out tired but warm, and a small chuckle followed as he leaned his head back against the couch again.

“How long have you been there?” you asked quietly, still trying to shake off the adrenaline.

He shrugged, gaze drifting toward the dark window like time didn’t matter right now.

For the past four nights, Seokjin hadn’t come home before ten at night. He’d warned you he was rushing through his schedule so he could come home earlier in the following weeks, so he could actually be present with Nabi. You understood it in theory. In practice, it still made something twist in you every time you heard his key in the door when the apartment was already asleep.

You watched him for a second longer than you should have. His shoulders looked heavy in a way they didn’t during the day. His mouth was set, but not harsh, just worn down at the edges.

“Would you like a drink?” you kept your tone light, helpful, giving yourself something simple to do with your hands and your nerves.

“You're not here to work like that. Nabi is in bed, you should rest too.” he sounded tired, but not dismissive, like he meant it as care and not an order.

“I don’t mind Mr. Kim.” you shrugged, trying to make it feel casual, like your heart wasn’t still beating too fast.

His head straightened, and for a moment he looked like he was choosing his words carefully. Not because he didn’t trust you, but because he might not trust himself.

“Only if you drink with me. And if you stop calling me Mr. Kim.” the corner of his mouth lifted, small and quiet, the closest thing to a smile he’d offered so far.

“Okay, oppa.” the honorific left your tongue easier than it should have, sweet without you meaning it to be.

Seokjin didn’t say anything, but you felt his attention follow you as you crossed the living room. Your pajamas were simple, soft cotton with little red hearts scattered over them, the kind of set you’d wear without thinking twice in your own apartment. 

You reached up to the high cabinet where the alcohol was stored safely out of reach from toddler fingers, your fingertips brushing the wood before you found the handle. The glass bottles clinked softly when you moved them, a small sound that felt too sharp in the quiet.

“Stressful day?” you asked, glancing back at him as you set the chosen bottle down.

“Stressful week. Month. Year.” his voice was dry, but there was no bite in it, just exhaustion.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” you meant it, along with the softness around your words. 

You poured two small glasses, the amber catching the light. The smell of whiskey rose up warm and sharp as you carried them over, careful not to spill. Your hands looked too delicate around the weight of the glass.

Seokjin took his time sitting up. He accepted the drink, fingers brushing yours as you passed it, and the contact lasted half a second longer than necessary. He stared into the glass like it held the answers he’d been looking for. You could see the strain in the line of his brow, the way his shoulders stayed tense even here.

Then the words slipped out of him, rawer than you’d ever heard him.

“My friends think I should just get laid.” he said it like he was testing how it sounded in the room, and his eyes flicked to your face immediately after, as if bracing for impact.

Your feet halted mid-step as you moved to sit beside him, surprise tightening your throat. For a second you just stood there, the whiskey steady in your hands, the apartment too quiet.

“I shouldn’t speak like that. I’m sorry, it’s unprofessional.” his voice softened on the apology, sincere and a little frustrated with himself.

“My workday ended when Nabi went to sleep.”  you lowered yourself onto the couch with him, careful to leave a respectful space in between you. “It’s okay, I'm not a child.”

“I know.” he swallowed, gaze dropping to his glass. It came out low, almost too honest.

You took a slow sip, letting the burn give you something to focus on. The whiskey warmed your throat and settled in your chest, and you tried not to think about how aware you suddenly were of his breathing beside you.

“You’ve been divorced for a year right?” you asked after a beat, voice gentle, offering him an easier path back to safer conversation.

“Hm.” he nodded slightly, eyes still forward.

“How long has it been then?” you continued, and you felt your mouth go a little dry as you asked it. This was new territory, and you knew it. You could feel the line under your feet, thin and dangerous.

You weren’t blind to the way he sometimes watched you when he thought you weren’t looking. You weren’t innocent enough to pretend the soft, lingering touches were always accidental. There were moments that sat between you like questions neither of you knew how to ask out loud.

Seokjin took another sip, then let out a quiet chuckle that didn’t quite reach.

“If we’re really talking about this I might need another drink.” he cracked his neck, rolling it once, then again, as if trying to shake off the tension that lived in his shoulders lately.

Your heart thumped harder at the movement, at the faint glimpse of skin where his collar had loosened.

After what felt like too long, he spoke again:

“I haven’t been with anyone after my divorce.” he said it plainly, like he was ripping off a bandage, following the words with large gulps of the golden liquid.

“What? How?” the surprise escaped you before you could smooth it into something more polite.

“I work late, and I get Nabi on the weekends. Besides, even if I did find a date in between, I come with baggage.” the reasons came out practiced, like he’d been repeating them to himself for a long time, like he knew he was giving you excuses.

You didn’t take another sip of your own drink, just held the glass in both hands on your lap, feeling the cool rim under your fingers.

Seokjin looked at you over the edge of his glass. His eyes were steady now, and the directness of it made heat creep up your neck. You wanted to shift. You wanted to pull your legs closer. The living room felt warmer than it had a minute ago. The air conditioner hummed softly somewhere in the background. The city lights outside painted faint reflections across the glass wall. Nabi’s bedroom stayed silent down the hall.

You were painfully aware that the house had gone quiet hours ago. Nabi asleep, Mrs. Bak long gone, the hallway lights dimmed to soft amber. Just you and Jin on the wide sectional in the living room.

You shouldn’t have asked. You knew it the second the words left your mouth:

“You don’t have to find a new wife to feel good, oppa.” your voice came out softer than you meant, almost careful, like you were handing him an out. “You don’t like fucking casually?”

Seokjin’s breath hitched. Not loud, but you heard it: the tiny catch in his throat, the way his fingers flexed once around his glass before going still. He looked down at the dark gold swirl inside it, then lifted his eyes to yours. Guarded. Open. Something raw flickering behind the calm he usually wore.

“I’ve been with Hiah since school.” just fact, laid bare. “Can’t say I ever have.”

The silence that followed pressed against your eardrums. Heavy and warm. You realized you were holding your breath, chest tight, skin prickling where the air touched it. His gaze didn’t waver, and you wondered what he saw on your face.

Your pulse thumped loud in your ears, louder than the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen. The couch leather creaked when you shifted, just an inch, but it felt like the room noticed.

Hoseok’s voice cut through your head then, sharp and fond as if he were lounging on the armrest beside you: The Yn I know goes for what she wants.

And right now, god help you, what you wanted was Jin.

You set your glass on the coffee table, the clink sounding obscene in the quiet.

“You deserve to be taken care of too…” you said, words steady even though your hands weren’t. “I don’t have to be here just for Nabi.”

Jin didn’t miss the promise behind your words, he couldn't have. Not when his eyes darkened half a shade, not when his Adam’s apple slid on a slow swallow.

Your name left him soft, almost a sigh. “Yn.”

The sound of it in his mouth twisted something low in your belly. Fear spiked sharp behind your ribs: rejection incoming, this fragile thing about to shatter.

“Don’t talk like that.” it came out rougher than he probably meant, edged with a groan he couldn’t quite swallow nor hide.

“Why?” you asked, bolder now. Heart hammering so hard you were sure he could see it under your shirt.

“We shouldn’t.” his voice dropped lower. Eyes locked on yours, dark and unblinking, like he was trying to talk himself out of the gravity pulling him closer.

“I know.”

He said your name again and this time it wasn’t a warning, but a plea. A crack in the wall he’d built around himself for years.

You watched the exact second he gave in: the almost-imperceptible nod, the slow blink, the faint lift of his brows like he was asking ‘are you sure?’ and answering himself at the same time.

You moved before you could second-guess it. Reached for his glassfingers brushing his, warm and steady, and set it beside yours with a quiet clink. Then you were climbing over him, one knee planting on the cushion beside his thigh, the other swinging across until you settled in his lap.

Careful. Slow. Like approaching something wild that might bolt. And he let you.

Jin didn’t pull away, he didn’t push. Just exhaled shakily as your weight settled, thighs bracketing his hips, palms finding his shoulders for balance. The heat of him seeped through his shirt instantly, solid chest rising and falling too fast, the faint tremor in his hands where they hovered at your waist, not quite touching yet.

You weren’t used to being the one to start things like this, the bravery you were wearing felt paper-thin, nerves churning hot in your stomach.

“We don’t have to–” his voice cracked on the last word, like reading your hesitance as regret, as if you’d already changed your mind. His hands finally settled, light, tentative on your hips like he was afraid to hold on too hard.

“Please, oppa.” it came out smaller than you intended.

His thumbs flexed against the fabric of your shirt, like he was testing the reality of you there. Then his grip tightened just enough. Enough to say yes.

“Wanna kiss you.”

The confession slipped out when you caught his gaze lingering too long, too heavy on your mouth. You’d fantasized about those lips for months: plush, pink, always curved in that gentle half-smile when he thanked you for staying late. Now they parted slightly, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet them in a slow, unconscious sweep that felt like an invitation he hadn’t noticed.

Your hands were already braced on his shoulders, fingers curling into the crisp cotton of his shirt. You leaned in inch by inch, giving him every chance to pull back. He didn’t.

The first press of your lips was soft, tentative and almost polite. His breath rushed warm against your mouth, carrying the faint, dark strength of the whisky you’d both been nursing. Then his lips parted wider and yours followed, tongues brushing in a slow, exploratory glide. 

You tilted your head the opposite way, chasing the angle that let you sink deeper. Your chest brushed his; the hard plane of him against the softness of you. A tiny sound escaped your throat, half sigh, half moan, and he swallowed it, answering with a low, rumbling hum that vibrated through your ribs.

Jin’s fingers flexed on your hips, tentative at first, then firmer, like he was reminding himself he was allowed to hold you here. The pressure sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly. You stayed still for a heartbeat, letting the kiss stay languid, sensual, tasting him like you had all night. But then he tugged, subtle, but insistent, pulling your hips forward until your core settled more fully against the growing hardness beneath his slacks.

A groan tore from his throat, muffled against your mouth.

Your fingers slid into his hair, threading through the soft strands at his nape, tugging just enough to tilt his head back so you could kiss him deeper. You rolled your hips once and felt him twitch beneath you. Hard and ready. 

The realization hit like a spark: Kim Seokjin, your boss, the man who paid your salary, the father of the little girl you had just tucked in to sleep, was losing composure under you. The power of it made your head spin, dizzy and intoxicating.

You broke the kiss when your lungs burned, pulling back just enough to see his face. Pupils blown wide, dark and glassy. His lips were even redder now, swollen from your attention, parted on shallow breaths. Beautiful and ever and absolutely wrecked.

“I can feel you…” you whispered, voice small and shaky despite the boldness still thrumming through you. Another roll of your hips, harsher this time, grinding down deliberately, and his cock jerked against you through the layers of fabric. “Always wanted to–”

“Fuck.” the word punched out of him, rougher than you’d ever heard. His hands slid lower, cupping your ass with both palms, squeezing hard enough to lift you slightly before guiding you back down in a slow, controlled drag against him. “You’re driving me crazy.”

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, lips brushing skin, open-mouthed, hot, not quite a kiss but close enough to make you shiver. His breath fanned damp across your collarbone as his right hand slipped under the hem of your pajama top, fingers splaying across bare stomach, then higher, stopping just shy of your breast. Thumb brushing the underside, testing.

Every cell in him screamed conflict. This was wrong on every level he could name: you were too young, too bright, too much his employee. The same girl who smiled sweetly when Nabi babbled at her, who never complained about late nights. And here he was, thirty-something, divorced, supposed to be the responsible one, rutting up into you like he couldn’t stop himself. His cock throbbed painfully with every grind; his mind yelled at him to pull back, to apologize, to remember the power imbalance he held even now.

His body ignored it.

“Touch me, Jin.” your voice cracked on his name, soft and pleading.

He exhaled hard against your throat, then his hand moved. Jin cupped your breast fully. The weight of it filled his palm, soft and warm, nipple already peaked and dragging against his skin. He rolled it gently between thumb and forefinger, testing, and you arched into the touch with a whimper that shot straight to his groin.

He thrust up instinctively, hips chasing friction like he was twenty again and hadn’t touched anyone in years. The friction was maddening; too much fabric, not enough skin.

You giggled suddenly, breathless.

“Wrong one.” your voice was teasing, light despite the tremor in it. You pushed gently at his shoulders until he eased back, dazed eyes tracking your movements. “I have something to show you. Hope it’s not a deal breaker.”

He froze. “Mm?”

Then you hooked your fingers under the hem of your top and peeled it off in one smooth motion.

The air left his lungs in a sharp, audible rush.

Your skin glowed under living room lights, smooth, flawless, untouched by time in a way that made his chest ache with something like reverence and guilt all at once. Breasts round, perky, nipples tight from the cool air and his earlier attention. And on the left one: a delicate barbell piercing, two tiny pink heart-shaped gems glinting on either side of the small bud.

He stared. Mouth open. Brain short-circuiting.

“Holy fuck.” he breathed.

Your earlier words clicked into place. Hope it’s not a deal breaker.

Seokjin’s cock gave a hard, helpless twitch in his pants. He could’ve come right then, fully dressed, untouched beyond the grinding.

“That’s…” Jin swallowed, voice gravel-rough. “That’s sexy as fuck.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, dark, hungry, but still holding that last thread of restraint. One hand stayed on your hip, thumb stroking slow circles like he was anchoring himself. The other lifted, hesitant, reverent, until the pad of his thumb brushed the barbell. A tiny tug, barely there, and your back bowed, a soft gasp spilling from your lips.

He watched your face the whole time. Watched the way your lips parted, the way your pupils swallowed the color of your irises. Watched you react to him.

And something possessive and dark flickered in his chest.

You giggled again, soft, surprised, and so delighted when his reaction wasn’t shock or recoil but pure, unguarded hunger. Seokjin didn’t strike you as the type: polished suits, boardroom voice, the kind of man who probably thought body mods belonged to rebellious college kids. Yet here he was, eyes dark and glassy, thumbs already circling the tiny heart-shaped gems like they were something precious.

Both hands cupped your breasts now, warm palms cradling their weight. He flicked the barbell once, gentle and testing, and a sharp hiss escaped you, spine arching involuntarily. 

“Does it hurt?” his gaze snapped to your face, chocolate eyes searching.

“Only if you pull it, or bite it.” your voice came out breathy. You reached up, fingers sliding into his hair, pushing the messy strands back from his forehead. They were wilder now than when you’d found him alone in the living room, disheveled by your hands, by your want. You cradled the back of his neck and guided him closer until his lips hovered over your chest. “But I like it.”

He exhaled a shaky chuckle against your skin. “Of course you do.”

The sound vibrated through you. He’d stopped expecting predictability from you tonight; every layer you peeled back surprised him, enticed him more. His cock throbbed painfully inside his trousers, the head already slick and leaking enough that he could feel the damp patch spreading against his thigh. He tried not to think about how pathetic it was, how long it had been since anyone had touched him like this, how fast you were unraveling years of careful restraint.

“I’ve been told it feels quite good on your tongue too.” you whispered, nails scratching his scalp. 

Seokjin’s mouth found the soft valley between your breasts first with open kisses, slow drags of tongue, tasting salt and warm skin. Then he moved higher, lips brushing the underside of one breast before teeth grazed the side in a sudden, possessive bite. Not hard enough to bruise, but firm enough to mark. You gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, the sharp tug sending fire across his scalp.

A darker part of him reared up at the thought: others had seen you like this. Tasted you. Known the hitch in your breath when they played with that piercing. It was irrational, unfair and slightly hypocritical, but right now, with you trembling in his lap, you were his. He wanted the evidence of it on your skin, even if just for tonight.

He soothed the bite with a slow, wet lick, tongue flattening over the faint imprint before trailing kisses upward. When he reached your nipple, he paused, breath hot against the tight peak, then wrapped plush lips around it. The barbell clicked softly against his teeth; he rolled the metal between tongue and roof of his mouth, savoring the cool silver contrast against your fever-hot skin. He sucked with gentle pulls at first, then deeper, tongue flicking the heart charms in quick, teasing strokes.

Your hips stuttered, grinding down harder. Through his slacks and your thin sleep shorts, he could feel the slick heat of your pussy soaking through; wet enough that every roll dragged obscene friction against his aching length. The sounds spilling from your throat were filthy-sweet: soft whimpers building to breathy moans, louder with each swirl of his tongue.

He pulled off with a wet pop, lips glistening. 

“Shhh, baby.” his voice was low, rough, edged with sudden awareness. Nabi’s room was only a hallway away. “Gotta be quiet.”

“Fuck–sorry.” you bit your lip, trying to muffle yourself, one hand still fisted in his hair while the other slid down his chest, over the hard planes of his stomach, until your palm cupped the thick ridge of his cock. You squeezed, firm and exploratory, and felt him jump under your touch. “You feel so good, though.”

Jin groaned into your neck, hips jerking up instinctively. Your small hand worked him through the fabric, stroking the length, cupping the heavy weight of his balls, and every pass sent sparks up his spine. His stomach clenched, balls drawing tight. Too much. Too fast. He hadn’t been this close to the edge from dry humping since he was a teenager.

He tried to hold it back, tried to breathe through it, but your thumb swiped over the wet spot at the tip, pressing just right, and the dam broke.

“Oh–fuck–”

His whole body locked up. Cock pulsing hard against your palm, hot spurts soaking through his boxers and slacks in embarrassing waves. He trembled beneath you, breath ragged, face buried in your shoulder as the aftershocks rolled through him.

You froze for a heartbeat. Then your fingers gentled, stroking him through the mess without pulling away.

When Seokjin finally lifted his head, his cheeks were flushed crimson, eyes glassy with mortification and lingering heat. Frustration flickered there too, annoyance at himself, at his body betraying him so quickly.

“It’s okay.” you whispered, cupping his jaw to tilt his face up. You kissed the high flush on his cheekbones, then his swollen mouth. “Really.”

“How can you–” his voice cracked. “That’s not–”

“It’s flattering.” your smile was sweet, not teasing. “Means you wanted this as bad as I did.”

He exhaled hard, something loosening in his chest. He didn’t bother with excuses; it had never happened before, not like this. But the truth was humiliatingly simple: you undid him. Your scent clinging to his shirt, your taste still on his tongue, your nails on his scalp, your hips never giving him a second to catch his breath. Too long without touch. Too much want.

And now he had something to prove.

You started to shift, ready to climb off, already mentally filing this under incredible makeout, maybe a cold shower later, but Seokjin moved faster.

One arm banded around your waist; the other braced on the couch. In a smooth, controlled motion he flipped you both. Your back met the cool, wipe-clean leather with a soft thump. You squeaked, half surprise, half laugh, and the sound vanished as his mouth covered yours again, deeper this time, hungrier.

He settled between your thighs, weight pinning you deliciously. One hand caught your wrists, lifting them above your head and pressing them lightly to the cushion, not restraining, just holding. A quiet reminder of who was bigger, older, the one who could stop this with a word if he wanted.

He didn’t want to stop.

Jin’s free hand dragged down your side in that slow and possessive way, fingers tracing the dip of your waist, the curve of your hip, before slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. Not diving in yet. Teasing the sensitive skin just above your mound.

He broke the kiss, lips brushing your ear.

“You’re really gonna have to be quiet for this, baby.”

The word slipped from him again, and your heart stuttered hard enough you felt it in your throat. He hadn’t called anyone that in years. Hadn’t wanted to. Until you.

“For what?” you breathed, already knowing, already aching.

Seokjin’s mouth curved against your collarbone. “For when I make you cum on my tongue.”

Your breath snagged. Back arching off the leather as he began his slow descent, kissing the soft swell of your stomach, dipping his tongue into your navel just to feel you shiver. Jin’s hands roamed your thighs: warm palms sliding up the insides, thumbs brushing dangerously close to where you were already dripping for him. You bit your lip hard, trying to swallow the sounds clawing up your throat, eyes locked on his face as he explored you like he was memorizing every inch.

“Can I take these off?” he paused at your hips, voice rougher than you’d ever heard it. “Please, oppa–” The plea came out whisper-thin, hips already lifting to help.

The man hooked his fingers under the waistband of your cotton shorts and dragged them down, slow enough to make you squirm. When they cleared your ankles and he realized you were bare underneath, a low, guttural groan tore from his chest. He sat back on his heels for a second, just staring.

Completely naked under him while he was still in his half-unbuttoned shirt and slacks, cock visibly thickening again behind the damp fabric. Your skin flushed hot under his gaze, breasts heaving, nipples still shiny from his earlier attention, the piercing glinting in the low light. Thighs trembling. Pussy glistening, swollen, lips parted and slick.

“Fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Look at this soaked little pussy. So fucking pretty.”

“Seokjin– please–”

Your whine cracked the quiet. He exhaled hard through his nose, then lifted one of your legs to drape over the back of the couch, the other falling open to the side. The stretch exposed you completely, cool air kissing wet heat, making your hole clench around nothing. His broad shoulders settled between your thighs as he lowered himself, stomach flat to the leather, face inches from where you needed him most.

He didn’t tease for long.

Jin’s tongue pushed between your folds in one long, slow drag, parting the sticky mess, flattening to lap up the flood of arousal coating you. The taste hit him like a drug: sweet-tart, heady, addictive. He swallowed audibly, moaned low in his throat, the vibration rumbling straight through your clit.

“Goddamn–” he growled against you. “You taste so fucking good.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the whimper that threatened to be too loud. The other flew to his hair, fingers twisting tight as he licked you open, broad strokes from your entrance to your clit, then back down, tongue dipping inside your fluttering hole just enough to make your hips buck. His large hands clamped your thighs wider, holding you pinned and spread while he devoured.

When his plush lips finally closed around your clit, you nearly sobbed. He sucked, gentle pulls at first, then harder, tongue flicking rapid little circles over the swollen bud while the flat of it pressed and rolled. Wet, obscene slurping filled the room, mixed with his muffled groans of pure enjoyment. He wasn’t breathing properly, too focused, too greedy, but he didn’t care. Neither did you.

Your hips rolled up to meet his mouth, grinding shamelessly against his face. Slick smeared across his chin, his cheeks; he only pressed deeper, nose bumping your clit when his tongue fucked back inside you.

“Jin–fuck–oh shit–”

You were trying. You really were. But the man was relentless; tongue swirling in tight, filthy patterns you didn’t even know existed, lips sucking your clit like he was starving. One hand slid up to pinch and tug at your pierced nipple; the sharp spark shot straight to your core.

“Gonna cum–don’t stop–please–”

He hummed approval against you, vibration ripping another choked moan from your throat, then did something wicked: pointed his tongue and twirled it around your clit in fast, tight circles while sucking at the same time. Your vision whited out. Back bowing off the couch, thighs clamping around his head, fingers yanking his hair so hard it had to hurt.

You came hard, a shattering, silent scream trapped behind your palm. Waves of pleasure crashed through you: pussy clenching and gushing against his tongue, legs shaking, toes curling. He didn’t stop, licking you through every pulse, slower now, savoring the fresh flood of wetness until your hips jerked from overstimulation.

When you finally collapsed, limp, boneless, chest heaving, he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against your inner thigh. Lips and chin shiny with you. Breathing ragged. Eyes dark and blown when they met yours.

Your name left him like a prayer. “Baby…”

He kissed the soft skin of your thigh once, then again, higher, tasting the mess he’d made of you.

Your vision was blurry with static, limbs falling limp on the couch as you forgot your own name. 

“Hey, Tsukishima. Are you hungry? This meat is fresh off the grill” you say with a smile, trying your best to come off as an inviting and warm person. He looked at you and fixed his glasses before saying “yeah, no thanks y/n, I’m okay” before averting his attention else where. Your smile faltered before regaining a smile that was plastered on your now concerned face “Are you sure, tsuki? They’ll be plenty more left.” You asked. “Yes, y/n..I’m sure.” He said. You noticed the tone in his voice “was he annoyed? Was I being pushy? Or overbearing?..no, he’s always like that!” With a small sigh, you smile and nod before walking away, passing the plate of meat to the next person who’d want it. Even while you were preoccupied with making sure your team ate and had fun— you made a mental note to make food for Tsukishima still. Even if he said he wasn’t hungry or it wasn’t necessary, he was bound to get hungry eventually. You made it your job for your team to be satisfied. He couldn’t help but eye you down as you walked away, internally beating himself up for the way he spoke to you— the stoicism in his voice, the agitation in his throat- god why was he so stuck up! He doesn’t even know why he was agitated. He saw the way your smile fell and how you brought it back just for the sake of it. And that’s what he liked— no loved about you.

sometime later, as the sun is setting by the hour and the chilly winds pick up— everyone goes inside after helping clean the outside area. You and few other managers were the last to come in after cleaning up some of the mess the others missed on the blacktop and tables. You stayed behind a bit to fix Tsukishimas plate, some food you put to the side for him because you still remember to fix him something before the day ended. Even if it meant staying outside a little later to cook for one person. Obviously, this did not go unnoticed by Tsukishima— he was still by the door talking with the other first years as you finished up the cooking.

They left before you could put a lid ontop of his food and make your way to the door. Everyone had gone to their rooms or walked around the campus by now, but here you were, taking care of a stubborn Tsukishima past his bedtime. You didn’t mind but you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed..at what though? You couldn’t think of a valid reason to be annoyed at the moment, probably besides the fact that you haven’t ate yourself. You were too busy running after your team to make sure they were content with their meal rather than sitting down and eating yourself when you had the chance to. As you opened the fridge and made space for his container of food, you could feel a presence behind you. And to your surprisement, you look back and see Tsukishima. You give him a small smile with the little energy you had left in your body

You turned around to face him, that little smile still on your face. He eyed you down and studied your disheveled appearance, how your shirt was a bit dirty from condiments and charcoal, your forehead slightly glistening with sweat due to standing infront of a hot grill for the longest and walking around in the heat with plates and drinks. You saw how he looked at you and quickly the tension became thick and suffocating. Before you could say anything, he spoke first “Have you even eaten, y/n?” you couldn’t lie to him, because if you did he’d call you out on your bullshit— whatever lie you were thinking of quickly slipped through your train of thoughts when he spoke again. with a sigh he said: “you’re always running around for other people, you don’t even realize you look a mess right now.”

Taken aback you look down at yourself and he was right: your shirt is dirty, so are your hands and your shoelaces are undone. You were undeniably lost for words, you hope he isn’t here to criticize you for doing your job..but the way he looks at you while telling you about yourself—tell you a different story; he cares. He wouldn’t bother you of all people if he didn’t care. You look up at him, messing with the hem of your shirt..you don’t know what to do or say in this situation.

Tsukishima sees your body language and immediately straightens himself out. He purses his lips and sigh “I..just don’t like how you run around for other people but not yourself, y/n.” He looks down at you— eyes softer than ever. He closes the gap between you two as you muffled out a sorry, because in reality: he was right. No one has ever went out their way to do anything for you, even when it wasnt needed; they didn’t care about you. You would spend your own money on the team..buying them food and sometimes new equipment whenever theirs broke. But whos doing anything for you? You knew what you were doing but maybe you needed to hear it from someone else.

The tiny bear figure was nothing particularly remarkable on its own, but it had come to hold a certain sense of peace for Yoongi whenever he held onto it, like his own little good luck charm, something to help keep him centered when he was feeling overwhelmed, much like now as he stepped into his friends crowded apartment.

He quickly found his usual place, tucked safely into the corner of the sofa, steering clear of the noise and chaos of the main group as they talked and drank.

His friend was always encouraging him to come over for his weekend hangouts, insisting to Yoongi that all the energy and music would help clear his head and give him inspiration for work. Yoongi wasn’t particularly in the mood for this much noise and stimuli though. He’d spent the better part of the past week holed up in his studio working several new songs, though his results had been underwhelming by his standards. He was tired and had half a mind to just slip back out the door and go home without saying anything.

His mood however perked up instantly as he caught sight of a familiar figure slipping through the front door, his eyes following you as you grabbed a drink and glanced about the room, your face breaking into a huge grin as you spotted him watching you.

“I thought you said you weren’t coming this week?” You asked, taking the empty seat next to him. “What happened to “I’m too busy being a musical genius” or whatever?”

“I was persuaded otherwise.” He replied dryly, ignoring your growing amused grin.

“I’m glad.” You said.

“Didn’t say it was you, I’m just here to get back the whiskey that Hee-Jun owes me, one glass at a time.” He responded, tipping back the last of his drink as he spoke, making you laugh.

“Whatever you say, bro.” You relented.

“Yah! I’ve told you not to call me bro.” He complained.

The two of you fell into your usual routine of conversation and bickering, much the same as every other night you had spent together since you’d first met over a year ago, when Hee-jun had invited you to a group dinner and introduced you to everyone.

Yoongi had found himself instantly charmed by you, your friendly but sarcastic attitude matching his perfectly. He had spent the majority of that first night talking eagerly with you, much to the surprise of the others, not used to seeing this side of Yoongi.

Your friendship had quickly grown after that. He had found himself completely drawn in by you, finding it remarkably easy to talk with you and wanting to learn every little thing about you. Yoongi’s friends loved to tease him about his being whipped for you, pointing out things like how he always claimed that he was too busy to hang out with them, but he somehow always managed to make time for you, but he didn’t pay them much mind. He was happy around you, really truly happy. He felt safe and comfortable with you, which was something that didn’t come very easy for Yoongi.

There were times though, usually on late nights when you were still hanging out long after one of you should’ve gone home, when he would wonder if there was some truth to his friend’s jokes, feeling a faint but insistent twinge in his chest, as if something were struggling for freedom, but he quelled it down, passing it off as just a passing thought, a flicker of something that didn’t really mean anything… Right?

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of drinks and talking to you and his friends over the too loud music until late. He was in the middle of a discussion with one of the members when he felt a sudden weight against his shoulder.

Glancing down, he was met with your sleeping figure, your face nuzzled against the material of his jacket, 

All at once, that twisting feeling in his chest had returned, far more pronounced and forceful than usual, his heart stuttering like the moments before the drop on a rollercoaster. His mind went blank as he stared down at you, a familiar warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the alcohol in his system.

Fuck, he loved you.

He loved you, with your dumb jokes and peach flavored lip balm, your terrible playlists and your quiet little hums when you're nervous, and the way you hid behind your hands when you laughed. He loved every little thing about you and he suddenly can’t breathe as he stared down at your sleeping form, taking in how perfectly you fit against his side. He stayed there for a while, not quite sure what to do now.

“Y/n?” He whispered.

“Mhm.” You stirred, shifting closer, but not fully surfacing from sleep.

He was quiet for a second, mind whirring as he tried to decide what action he should take.

He could just tell you, nudge you again gently till you woke properly, blinking up at him all drowsy and confused and utterly adorable.

“I think… I love you.” The words were simple enough in theory, mumbled out as his dark eyes bore into your own, begging for this to not be a mistake.

For a moment you didn’t move, staring as if unsure of what you’d heard, before suddenly pushing yourself up, seeking out his lips.

He wrapped his arms around you, savoring the taste of you as he pulled you closer, letting out a soft groan as your hands found their way into his hair, nails scratching over his scalp and raising goosebumps over his whole body-

The sound of glass breaking in the kitchen behind the two of you shattered the moment, ripping Yoongi roughly from his daydream.

“Yah, you see?! This is why I don’t let you help!” Jin scolded loudly.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Joon snapped back, equally loud.

“How was that not-?!”

The chaos from the kitchen had pulled you from sleep, sitting up quickly and blinking around in confusion and concern.

“What happened?” You asked groggily, shaking off the last hints of sleep.

“It’s just the guys being dumb-asses, don’t worry.” He assured you, but he shifted away subtly, a strange sense of relief flooding his system.

Mumbling out a faint excuse, he ducked down the hall to the bathroom, catching sight of his expression in the mirror as he splashed some water on his face in an attempt to clear his head. 

His cheeks were flushed a deep rosy hue, his eyes slightly too big, pupils blown wide.

What the fuck was wrong with him?! He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t say those things to you. He’d fallen down that hole before, letting his feelings get the better of him confessing, only to be viciously rejected. Or worse yet, having his feelings falsely returned, and ending up with his heart twisted into something he didn’t even recognize for the other person's benefit and pleasure, leaving him to pick up the warped pieces when they had used him up.

He couldn’t let that happen with you, he couldn’t risk ruining one of the best friendships he’s had in years over some stupid infatuation.

Taking care not to be noticed, he silently slipped out the door and made his way home, sending a half-assed text to you and his other friends about not feeling well before turning his phone off and flopping onto his bed.

He would fix this, he promised to himself, he just needed to give his little crush some time to run its course and get out of his system, like a cold or the flu. In the meantime, he decided it would be best to put some space between the two of you, try and wean himself off the dependency that he had developed with you. It wasn’t good for him to ‘need’ someone as much as he did you, it would only lead to regret if he wasn’t careful.

He could do this, he tried to convince himself. He could correct these feelings and go back to how your friendship was before.

He had to.

For the next few weeks, he did his best to avoid you without being too obvious, claiming things like busy schedules as why he was suddenly never around.

He tried to convince himself that this was necessary and the better of two options, but the full truth was that he was miserable.

He hadn’t realized just how much you had been seeped into his day to day life until he tried to go without you. There were no silly texts convos to keep his spirits up during the day, his evenings dull and quiet, no warm laughter or teasing jokes to pull a smile out of him, no encouraging touches on his hand when he was feeling frustrated or random little backhugs that brought more peace and comfort than he ever thought was possible.

He knew he could easily remedy the situation and just face his feelings and talk to you, but the ghosts of his past kept creeping up on him, whispering in his ear that he would ruin everything if he dared open himself like that again. 

His heart argued however with him constantly in your defence. This time it could be different, you were so different from all those people in his past, so kind and warm and patient.

He knew deep down that you would never do anything to intentionally hurt him, but his fear left him in a constant state of limbo, frustrated with himself and confused about how to move forward.

He decided to take Holly on a long walk to try and help clear his head, fidgeting with the tiny bear charm on his keyring in his pocket as he often did when he was frustrated.

Even this made his thoughts circle back to you. You’d given it to him not long after you’d become friends, having taken him out for dinner one evening when he had been having a tough week. You’d wandered around the city without any real plans, eating snacks from street vendors, talking and goofing around till he felt his chest finally begin to lighten. You’d won the keychain charm in a random gatcha capsule machine and had insisted that it resembled him, dropping it in his hand and saying that he should keep it as a good luck charm.

He’d humored you somewhat reluctantly at first, but he’d found himself toying with the charm whenever he was anxious or uneasy, a sense of comfort and certainty creeping through him whenever he held onto it, your words echoing through his mind.

Apparently the universe was as fed up with Yoongi’s bullshit as he was, deciding that since he wouldn’t make a decision on his own, it would give him a push in the form of you on his doorstep as he returned home with Holly from their walk.

The tiny dog rushed to greet you, having missed your presence almost as much as his owner had the past few weeks, excitedly bouncing around your feet as you tried to pet him.

Hi buddy.” You giggled before glancing up to meet Yoongi’s eye. “Hey Yoongs.”

“H-hey.” He swallowed nervously. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d say hi.” You said, still playing with Holly.

He watched the two of you, a tiny smile making its way across his face as he took in the way your expression lit up as you cooed over the little poodle, your smile warming him more than the lingering hints of summer in the air, instantly weaving your way back into his heart.

“You wanna come in?” The words had a slight wobble as they left his mouth, as if he was asking himself more than you.

You nodded. “I’d like that.”

He let the three of you into the house, debating awkwardly on what he should do before settling next you on the sofa.

It was quiet for a moment, neither of you quite knowing where to start.

“So, how’s the new album going?” You offered.

The two of you talked for a while, quickly falling back into your usual routine, talking about everything from work to friends to the new project you’d been working on, but there was clearly an unspoken ‘something’ hanging in the air between you, Yoongi gradually losing himself in just listening and watching you, the way your eyes flashed as you spoke, the way you talked through your hands. 

It was several minutes before you noticed the way he was staring at you, his eyes distant, an almost dreamy glaze over them.

“What?” You asked.

He shrugged.

“You just look happy.” He replied.

“I am happy.” You confirmed, lightly shoving his shoulder. “I’m always happy when I’m with you.”

Your words sent a quiet thrill through him, warm and hopeful, but your next words also triggered a twinge of guilt.

“I’ve missed this, you, the past few weeks.” You admitted, playing with your hands on your lap. “I was honestly starting to think you were avoiding me.” You laughed nervously, trying to lighten the weight behind your words.

He was silent for a moment, the decision that he’d been avoiding hanging in the air again.

“Actually… I kinda was.” He admitted. “No, I know I was.” 

Your expression fell. “Why? Did I do something-?”

“No no, it wasn’t anything you did.” He quickly assured you. “It was-, it was a ‘me thing’ I needed to figure out.”

“What kind of thing?” You asked.

He hesitated.

Fuck it.

“The fact that I haven’t been honest with myself, or you, about a lot of things, like the fact that I like you… as more than a friend.”

Your mouth fell open at his admission, but Yoongi pressed on, fearing that if he stopped now, he might never get it out.

He laid everything out, his feelings for you and his fears and scars from the past and why he pulled away from you, his gaze never straying from the ground in front of him as he spoke.

“Through all of this, I realized a couple things.” He said. 

You waited for him to continue.

 “I could live without you, but I would fucking hate it.” He finally glanced up at you, his eyes unusually vulnerable. 

“I hated not seeing you, hated not hearing your laugh, not smelling your perfume of your stupid coffee order in my car after driving you to work. I hated it, but it was all my own fault, because I was too much of a coward to admit that I liked you more than I thought was possible, more than I should. “

“Yoongi-” You tried. but he kept going.

“And you can tell me to fuck off and that you don’t feel the same, and I’ll gladly leave you alone, or go back to being just friends, but I just wanted-”

“Yoongi, shut up.” You said, not harshly, but firmly enough to snap his mouth closed instantly. 

His heart pounded loudly in his chest, the silence stretching between you deafening as he waited for you to speak

“You really think you’re the only one who’s been feeling like this? Who’s been afraid?” You asked quietly, your voice trembling with emotion. “You think I haven’t thought about if we?... If I told you…” You took an unsteady breath, Yoongi staring at you in disbelief. “Why did you say something before-?

“I was afraid,” He admitted, feeling tears beginning to prick at his eyes. “Afraid that you wouldn’t want this. Or worse, that you would.”

Your eyes saddened as you reached out, fingers brushing against his cheek. “Why would that be worse?”

“Because I don’t wanna break this, I don’t wanna lose you” He whispered, his voice cracking. “Not when you mean so much to me.”

Suddenly, the distance between you felt unbearable, the space filled with the weight of thousands of unspoken feelings.

Before he could think, you closed the gap, leaning so close you could feel each other's shaky breaths, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“Say it,” You whispered, the words barely audible. “I won’t hurt you… just say it.”

For a moment, you thought he might retreat, that he might hide behind the walls he’d built around himself again. But then his gaze softened, a quiet resolve settling into his chest.

“I love you,” He breathed, the words falling from his lips easily, soft and unguarded. “I love you so fucking much.”

He leaned in, letting his forehead rest against yours, his hand coming up to caress your cheek. His touch was gentle, reverent, as if you might disappear if he held on too tightly. 

But you weren’t going anywhere. Not when you’d just been offered the world in his hands.

You couldn’t find your words. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your lips crashing against his in a way that felt both brand new and familiar all at once, like finally coming home.

The world around you melted away, his arms wrapped around you tightly, shielding you from everything that could ever dare try to distract from this moment, pulling you close, feeling how perfectly you pressed against him.

His lips were soft and warm on yours, his touch achingly tender, every brush of his fingers against your skin like a spark of electricity.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, his eyes stayed scrunched closed, as if trying to savor every ounce of this feeling.

His fingers traced gentle paths up and down your arms to your shoulders, his breath warm against your skin.

“I don’t know-,” He whispered, his voice laced with vulnerability and need, drawing away slightly. “Fuck, I want so much, but I don’t know if we should-”

“Don’t hide away from me again, please.” You begged, following him to keep close, your lips brushing against his as you spoke, sending shivers rippling through him. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but don’t be don’t hide. Show me what you need. Please.”

At your words, Yoongi felt the last remnants of his fear crumble away, replaced only by a deep craving and need for you. 

Crushing his lips to yours again, he gave himself over to the kiss fully, gripping your waist and pulling you to straddle him properly.

His lips trailed down down your jaw to your neck, sucking marks on the sensitive skin as he went and causing you to writhe and squirm in his hold, grinding down against the growing bulge in his pants.

He let out a pained groan. 

“Touch me, god please, touch me.” He begged into your neck, bucking up into you desperately.

There was a blur of fumbling with buttons and zippers, your shirt thrown away somewhere behind the sofa, leaving your heaving chest bare for him to paw amd suck at hungrily.

You snaked a hand between you to stroke his aching length through his boxers, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he bucked up into your touch, moaning into your skin.

“Please.” He begged, for what he didn’t even fully know.

You shifted back just enough to free him from the confines of his underwear, his cock springing up against his abdomen, the tip red and leaking, desperate for any sort of relief.

As he watched through glazed-over eyes, you let your spit drip down onto his cock for lubrication, wrapping your hand around him and stroking him slowly to spread it over him, reveling in the way he twitched and whined under your touch.

“Fuck, Y/n, m-more please.” He moaned, his hips bucking up to chase your hand.

You sped up your movements, twisting your wrist just right as he clung to you, your foreheads pressed together, breathing each other's air. The whole thing almost felt more intimate than if he were actually inside you.

”I-, fuck, I’m gonna-” He panted, pulsing in your grip.

“Let go baby, I got you.” 

He came with a shuddering groan, curling into you as he painted your hand with streaks of white that dribbled back down onto his twitching length, making him shiver with oversensitivity.

“Fuck, Y/n, that was, I-” He struggled to catch his breath, leaning against you heavily.

“Yoongi?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you too.” You kissed his lips lightly, moving to detangle yourself from him so you could clean the two of you up, when he caught you by the waist, pulling you back down on the sofa, pinning you under him, his eyes dark as they stared into yours.

“Where do you think you’re going, darling? We’re just getting started.”

“Now it’s your turn.”

Yoongi: Goes quiet for a moment when you pull away, looking at you slightly confused like “What was that?” When you shrug or say it was to shut him up, he just sorta scoffs out a little laugh, nods, and then continues with his point. “As I was saying-”

Hobi: Absolutely caught off guard and dumbfounded for a moment, just staring at you with that cute “?” look on his face when you pull away. Completely forgot what he was saying and just kinda mumbles out a few more words like “So anyway, like I said… yeah…”

Namjoon: Depending on the argument, he either freezes for a second before going along with your action and kissing you back, or he gets annoyed and tries to continue the argument in between kisses. “No, *kiss* you don’t *kiss* understand *kiss*”

Jimin: I see him trying to take the lead of the situation, kissing you back hard till you’re breathless, and then trying to continue the argument. “And another thing-” If you kiss him again, he just channels his frustration into a very intense makeout session that leaves you covered and hickeys and him with a very smug look on his face

Taehyung: Honestly, top tier way to diffuse an argument with him, lol. He turns into such a sad, pouty baby whenever y’all argue, so he’s more than happy to follow your lead and just skip the fight and go straight to the ‘kiss and make up’ part. “Does this mean I won?”

Jungkook: I see him following your lead in the moment, kissing you back almost on reflex before pulling away and trying to go back to the argument. If you keep kissing him, he’ll give up and channel his frustrations elsewhere. “We’ll do it your way then.” *proceeds to scoop you up or drag you to the bedroom*

Yoongi: Kisses with Yoongi are slow and grounding. Even when he’s at his neediest and all his other actions are more frantic and shaky, his lips never lose their rhythm. He definitely gets a bit messy and sloppy at times(He’s mentioned the tongue technology too many times for it to be complete bs), but it’s always a slow and easy pace, bordering on teasing, bc he doesn’t want to overwhelm you through kisses(he prefers to do that in other ways👀).

Hobi: Hobi gives the best kisses, imo. He always pays super close attention to your reactions and tries to match your mood. Can go from sweet and soft to steamy and rough in a split second. His favorites tho are when it just starts to get spicy, bc he can feel you both losing yourselves in the moment and letting go. Those are the moments he feels most connected to you. I feel like he loves giving little pecks throughout the day every chance he gets tho.

Namjoon: Again, he might not technically be the biggest fan of physical affection, but when it comes to kisses, oof! It’s almost always super intense and passionate, clinging hands and heavy breathing. He’s not into one quick peck and then on with your day, nonono. He needs at least three or four good kisses before he can even think of doing anything else.(ironically, he then tends to forget that he's supposed to be doing anything else. oops)

Jimin: His kisses are just like him, 60% playful 40% intense, often ping-ponging between both in the same session. They’re full of teasing nips and roaming, ticklish hands. One of his favorite things is when you laugh into a kiss (it just feels like the purest form of joy). Gives the softest, sleepy kisses where his lips just barely press against yours, but he has to have them before he sleeps. Loves covering any part of you that he can reach with kisses.

Taehyung: This boy kisses like he needs them for oxygen, insistent and lingering. He will find any excuse to kiss you, pulling you close and holding your face so gently while stealing your breath and nearly bruising your lips with his intensity. Tends to rest his forehead against yours afterwards, wanting to stay as close to you as possible. Loves when you randomly kiss him, even if he’s in the middle of telling a story, he just gets the biggest, boxy smile.

though, pointing out how late it was getting and ‘hey, didn’t you have some work/school thing you needed to work on?’ maybe with his help?? He’d end up taking you for ice cream or smth on the way home because he feels a lil guilty for spoiling your evening and thinks about explaining, but he’d end up chickening out at the last second and keeping his thoughts to himself, for now at least…

Yoongi: Yoongi would be point blank about it, just like his approach to everything else. He’d stick himself right in the middle of whatever you and your other friend were doing and say that it was time for y’all go, since you’d so conveniently come together(well played, Min), not even letting your friend get out an offer to drop you home themselves before he was saying your goodbyes for you and all but pulling you with him out the door. When he spots you giving him a “wtf?” look, he would just shrug it off, preferring not to explain, all the earlier bravado disappearing with you. “Idk, I just wanted to leave…”

Hobi: ‘It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine’ is all that’d been repeating in his head for a solid five minutes as he tried to be cool and let you have a good time, but he couldn’t help feeling more than a bit miffed by the fact that he was being pretty much ignored by his partner. Except you weren’t his partner. Fuck, why did he always seem to forget that when he saw you with them? The last straw tho is when said friend puts a hand on your arm, and he’s up and beside you saying something about a minor emergency and you two have to go. He wasn’t even thinking and just said the first thing he could think of, having to now come up with a ‘whoops, false alarm!’ story so you don’t get mad at him.

Namjoon: Joon wouldn’t even hide the fact that he was irritated when you and your other friend were getting a little too cozy at the club you had gone to, coming over and grumpily telling you that y’all had to go, pulling some k-drama level shit trying to pull you along through the crowd with him. Naturally, you yank your hand away once you’re clear of the people and demand to know what the fuck was his problem, not understanding his sudden attitude. He would very nearly spill it then and there, frustration making him reckless, but he would catch himself at the last second and make up some lame excuse.

Jimin: Sulky No.2, ooh boy. He’d be trying his best(ish) not to be bothered, biting his lip every time he heard you laugh at one of their jokes or smth, but his jealousy would quickly get the better of him. He’d wind his way into the conversation before winding his way back out of it, with you in tow. How he always managed to get you away from the group was beyond you, he’s the smoothest smooth talker. You’d end up going to get dinner or coffee together on the way home,talking about whatever until you catch him staring at you for the third time and tell him to quit looking at you like that. “Like what?” “Like you’re in love with me or something.” “Would that be such a bad thing?” “What?!” “Nevermind, you were saying?”

Taehyung: Tae would come up with a bold faced lie, coming over and saying that he was feeling sick or smth and could you please take him home, knowing you would instantly go into caregiver mode, worrying about him and forgetting all about your other friend. It’s kinda a shitty move, and he knows it, but honestly if he had to sit and watch you smile at him for much longer, he might’ve actually gotten sick. He’d end up half confessing to you, talking about how much you mean to him and how he didn’t know what he’d do without you, might even actually say I love you, wincing a bit when you say that you love him too, and that he’s the best friend you could ever ask for. So close…

The bedroom light is soft, casting warm shadows across the room as Jungkook stands before you, his work-roughened hands gentle as they cradle your face. You can still smell the faint trace of sawdust and sweat on his skin, a reminder of the long day he's put in at the construction site just to get home to you.

"Hey," he murmurs, his thumb tracing along your cheekbone. "You're nervous."

It's not a question. He knows you too well now, eight months of quiet dates and stolen kisses, of his patience never once wavering even when you'd pull away, even when you'd make excuses. He'd wait. He always waited.

You nod, unable to find your voice as you stand there, acutely aware of every inch of your body. The way your thighs press together, the soft curve of your belly beneath your shirt, the way you've always felt like you take up too much space.

Jungkook’s dark eyes hold yours, steady and sure. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"That you've been working all day," you whisper, reaching for his shirt, desperate to shift the focus. "You must be so tired. Let me—let me take care of you."

His lips quirk into that soft smile that makes your heart stutter. "Is that what you want? To take care of me?"

You nod eagerly, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt. He lets you pull it up, lets you reveal the hard plane of his chest, the tan skin dusted with a light sheen of sweat. He's beautiful. All lean muscle and strength built from honest labor.

"You're so good to me," you breathe, more to yourself than to him.

"Am I?" His hands settle on your hips, warm and grounding. "Because I've been thinking about this all day. About you. About finally getting to see all of you."

Your breath catches. Your fingers curl into his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin. "Jk, I'm—I'm not—"

"I know what you are." His voice dips lower, rougher, and his grip on your hips tightens just enough to make you feel it. "You're my girl. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And I've been patient, baby. So patient. But I need you to trust me now."

The words settle in your chest, warm and heavy. You want to trust him. God, you want to.

"Can I undress you?" he asks, and the request, the softness of it, undoes something inside you.

You nod.

His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he lifts it slowly. Deliberately. Like he's unwrapping something precious. The fabric slides up over your stomach, your ribs, and you have to fight the urge to cover yourself, to curl inward. But his eyes never leave yours, never drop to judge.

When the shirt clears your head, he folds it carefully, sets it aside, and finally lets his gaze travel down your body.

And what you see in his expression isn't disgust or disappointment. It's hunger. Pure, raw hunger.

"Look at you," he breathes. His hands come up to cup your sides, thumbs tracing the swell of your hips. "So fucking soft. So beautiful."

"Koo—"

"Let me touch you." It's not really a question this time. His hands slide around to your back, finding the clasp of your bra. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

You can't speak. You can only nod, and that's enough.

The bra falls away, and the air hits your skin, makes your nipples tighten. Jungkook’s breath hitches as he looks at you, bare before him, and his hands come up to cup your heavy breasts, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks.

"God," he rasps. "So full. So perfect. These are mine now, aren't they?"

You whimper, your hips shifting forward of their own accord. "Yes."

He squeezes gently, and the sensation shoots straight through you, pooling hot and heavy in your belly. "That's right. All of you is mine. And I'm going to take such good care of you."

His mouth finds yours then, deep and consuming, and his hands never stop moving. They slide down your sides, over the swell of your hips, gripping your ass with a possessiveness that makes you gasp against his lips.

"When I think about you," he says between kisses, "about how patient you've been, how sweet you've been, letting me court you for six whole months—I've wanted to ruin you, baby. I've wanted to take you apart piece by piece."

"Then do it," you breathe, and the words shock even you.

He pulls back, his eyes dark, pupils blown wide. "Say that again."

"Take me apart. I want you to."

Something shifts in his expression. The softness is still there, but now there's an edge to it, a control he's barely holding onto. He guides you backward until your knees hit the bed, until you're sinking into the mattress, looking up at him.

He follows you down, bracing himself above you, and the weight of his body, the heat of him, makes you feel small for the first time in your life.

"I'm going to go slow," he says, his lips brushing against your throat. "I'm going to kiss every inch of you, and I want you to feel it. Every. Single. Touch."

His mouth traces a path down your neck, over your collarbone, and when he takes your nipple into his mouth, you arch up with a sharp cry. He laves at it, sucks gently, and his hand finds the other, rolling the sensitive peak between his calloused fingers.

"So responsive," he murmurs against your skin. "So perfect for me. You have no idea what you do to me."

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him there as he worships your chest, alternating between soft licks and harder sucks that leave you gasping. His free hand slides down your stomach, over the curve of your belly, and you tense for just a moment.

He notices. Of course he notices.

"Don't," he says, lifting his head to meet your eyes. "Don't hide from me. Not now. Not ever."

"Koo... you work so hard, and I just... I want to make you feel good too."

A low sound rumbles in his chest. "You make me feel good just by letting me touch you. Just by being here, soft and beautiful and mine."

His hand continues its journey, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, fingers sliding through the slick heat he finds there. He groans.

"So wet," he breathes. "Is this all for me?"

All you can do is nod, your hips bucking into his touch as his fingers find your clit, circling slowly.

"Good girl," he murmurs, and the praise washes over you like warm water. "My perfect, good girl. You've been waiting so long, haven't you? Let me take care of you now."

His fingers work you with expert precision, sliding lower to press inside you, one finger, then two, stretching you slowly while his thumb continues its assault on your clit. You're gasping, crying out, your nails raking down his back.

"That's it," he says, his voice strained. "Let go for me. I've got you."

And you do. The orgasm crashes over you like a wave, pulling you under, and Jungkook works you through it, his mouth finding yours to swallow your cries.

When you come back to yourself, he's kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your nose.

"Good," he whispers. "So good. But we're not done yet."

You watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he strips off his pants, revealing his hard length, thick and ready. Your mouth waters.

"Let me—" you start, reaching for him.

He catches your wrist, presses a kiss to your palm. "Later. For our first time, I want to be inside you. I want to feel you around me. I want to please you.”

He settles between your thighs, and you can feel him against your entrance, hot and insistent. He pauses, meeting your eyes.

"Tell me you want this."

"I want this. I want you."

He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you in the most delicious way. Your hands grip his shoulders, your breath coming in short gasps as he fills you completely.

"Fuck," he groans, his forehead dropping to yours. "You feel... you're so tight. So perfect."

He stays there for a moment, letting you adjust, his hips pressed flush against yours, his body a warm weight above you.

"You can move," you whisper.

And he does. He rocks into you with slow, deep thrusts, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you, making you see stars. His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing, pressing your palm into the mattress beside your head.

"Look at me," he commands softly, and you do. His eyes are locked on yours, vulnerable and fierce all at once. "You're doing so well. Taking me so beautifully. I could stay inside you forever."

Your hips rise to meet his, matching his rhythm, and the sounds you make are obscene, wet and slapping, mixed with your breathless moans and his guttural groans.

"Close," he warns. "Where do you want it?"

"Inside," you beg. "Please, Koo. I want to feel you."

His hips snap harder, faster, and he buries himself deep with a final, shuddering groan, spilling into you with a string of curses that sound like prayers.

He collapses against you, his face buried in your neck, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. Your arms wrap around him, holding him close, and you feel the stickiness between your thighs, the evidence of his desire, and for the first time in your life, you don't feel too big.

You feel perfect.

"I love you," he murmurs against your skin. "Every inch of you. Don't ever doubt that."

Your eyes sting with tears. "I love you too."

He lifts his head, catching the tear that escapes with his thumb. "None of that. Only smiles. You're mine, and I'm yours, and we have all the time in the world to figure out how good this can be."

He kisses you softly, and when he pulls away, there's a playful glint in his eye.

"Now. About that mouth of yours..."

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You always wondered what would happen to you. Growing up you knew that your family was different. You were always accompanied by large men dressed in black, guns hidden under jackets. You were never allowed friends over, not that you had any to begin with. You were ten when you’d found out what your father did for a living, who your father was. It didn’t change anything though. Your older brothers were trained to work alongside your father, you were never brought into that world. The simplest reason being you were a girl and there was no place for you in the family business, however the hidden truth was that your father loved you too much. You were his only daughter and he didn’t want any harm to come to you, so he protected you the only way he knew how, by shutting you out. You weren’t an idiot, you knew what your brothers got up to after school, knew why you weren’t allowed in the basement, knew why you couldn’t have friends over, why those men in black followed you everywhere. You knew your father was a powerful man you just didn’t realise how powerful until you were wrapped in white and handed over to Jin.

You wanted to hate your father. The man you never really knew, the man who had protected you your whole life, and who had given you away; some deal made, your life the cost. But you couldn’t hate him, just as you couldn’t hate Jin.

When you’d first met Jin you had wanted to. Wanted to hate the man who was coming to steal you away. But then you’d met him. Not only was he beautiful to look at, his dark eyes shinning with unspoken mischief, lips pulled into a slight smirk as he took you in, he was also surprisingly kind. You had seen the way he smiled at the workers in your house, the way he had caught your nephew in the hallway as he went racing after a ball, saving him from face planting into the dark carpet. He hadn’t forced you to do anything with him once married, save the polite kiss he’d left on your lips on your wedding day, he had showed you around his large house and to your bedroom that was opposite his own. Telling you without words that you weren’t going to be forced into a relationship with him despite what your last name suggested.

You had barely seen the man since your wedding day. You shared dinner together each night, although your conversations never strayed away from small talk, you couldn’t help but notice the darkness under his eyes, couldn’t help but want to help ease the tension in his shoulders.

You filled your days exploring the house and the grounds. You found solace in the extravagant library on the second floor, the large windows overlooking your second solace, the gardens that surrounded the house. When you weren’t hidden between book shelves losing hours to different tales and stories you were outside, exploring the grounds and watering the plants. The gardeners had been shocked the first time you’d asked to help but after a week they welcomed you with warm smiles and your own set of gloves.

You easily fell into a routine, mornings spent alone, curled up with a book, afternoons in the garden breathing in the smell of dirt and flowers, your nights full of polite conversation with Jin. It could be worse.

Jin admired you. He hadn’t told you but he admired the kindness in your eyes, the soft smile that graced your lips despite the cards you’d been dealt. He knew you didn’t want this anymore than he did, but you had never complained, never sent a hateful glare his way. You had smiled and accepted your fate. After three days of married life he found himself counting down the minutes until he could see you again, until he could share an hour or so with you while you ate together. Your kind smile burnt into his mind. He had gone looking for you on one of his rare days off only to find you working in the garden, wearing a pair of dirt covered overalls, your hair tied back, though a few strands had fallen across your face. You dug at the mud, brows furrowed as you worked around the flowers that had begun to grow. Jin had watched a soft smile pulling at his lips at your concentration. Since that day he started to regret not pushing to get close to you from the beginning. Wanting to know more about you, about your apparent love for gardening, about how else you filled your days. His heart had swelled for joy when you had moved to work on the garden that lay below his office on the third floor. His desk was in front of a large window that overlooked the garden and granted him a first seat view as you got to work. He felt his heart tug when you laughed with the gardeners, sending smiles their way that he’d never seen before. You eyes shinning with joy as you beheld the garden around you. Your own little world to work in.

“Y/n.” You jumped, spinning from your spot on the stairs to see Jin standing in the hallway, a sheepish smile on his face as he realised he’d scared you.

“H-hi.” You stuttered, sending a quick smile his way. Jin took a step forward, running his hand through his dark hair. “You’re home early.” You noted. It was barely even noon but you’d been on your way to the kitchen, your stomach grumbling as you’d spent the morning lost in a book.

“I thought I’d take the rest of the day off.” He said, “I was wondering…” he started voice fading away. You smiled gently, urging him to continue, not used to the shyness he was radiating. He cleared his throat, straightening.

“Have you had lunch?” He asked.

“Uh, no,” you said taken aback, “I was just about to head to kitchen- would you like to join me?” You asked, your fingers played with the gold ring on your left hand as you waited for his answer. Jin’s shoulders seemed to loosen at your question, he nodded softly.

“If that’s okay?” You smiled, nodding in reply.

“What do you feel like?” You asked as you arrived in the large kitchen. The room was huge, marble counter tops and tiled floors, two industrial sized fridges stood to one side, too much for the amount of people that lived in the house.

“I- uh- I was actually thinking I could cook for you, if that’s okay?” Jin asked, cheeks dusting with pink as you looked at him in shock.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind-“ he nodded cutting you off.

“I actually really like cooking and I don’t get to do it a lot.”

“Oh.” You said, shocked at the new information. You took at seat at one of the stools that stood in front of the kitchen island watching as Jin rolled up the sleeves of his white work shirt. His whole demeanour seemed to change as he worked, he moved with such certainty, his face filled with concentration. You watched a small smile dusting your lips as he worked. You had never seen him like this before, so passionate yet seemingly at peace. It was clear that Jin didn’t just like cooking but loved it. He moved gracefully around the kitchen humming as he worked. You rested your head on your hand, watching him with a small smile.

“How did you get into cooking?” You asked softly. Jin looked over at you, smiling.

“My mum let me help when I was younger, before I knew about all of this.” He said gesturing to the house around him. “She taught me nearly everything I know.”

“My mum was never in the kitchen.” You said sadly, looking down at the marble counter top in front of you, “she thought cooking was below her. She only cared about clothes and parties and social standings.” You frowned running your fingers along the patterns in the stone. Jin watched you carefully. “She hated that I wanted to learn. She caught me in the kitchen once, our cook was teaching me how to make bread, I was only seven and she yelled at me. Pulled me from the room, yelling about what kind of example I was setting and what would it look like if someone else had caught me. She fired our cook too.” You pulled your hands into your lap, nails digging into the skin of your palms as you clenched them tight.

“I’m sorry.” Jin said softly. You looked up at him, the compassion shinning in his eyes.

“Don’t be.” You said, letting out a breathy laugh, “I’m sure you’ve been through worse.”

“It’s not a competition.” He said gently, turning back to the frying pan, “you’re allowed to feel your own pain, you don’t need to compare it to others.” A comfortable silence settled over the two of you as Jin continued the meal. You smiled at him brightly as he dished out the food. He handed you a fork, digging in where he stood opposite you, a soft smile on his lips as you took your first bite. You moaned as the flavours filled your mouth, blushing at the sound. Jin laughed at your reaction, eyes crinkling with joy.

“I could teach you,” he said, “if you still wanted to learn.” Your eyes widened.

“Really? I don’t want to be a hassle I know you’re busy-“

“You could never be a hassle.” He said, eyes not meeting your shocked ones, “Besides is it a crime that I want to spend time with my lovely wife?” You smiled softly at his words, cheeks turning pink.

“Then yes.” You said quietly, his eyes looked up, taking in your gentle features, “I would like that very much.”

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Once either of you would pull away he'd act as if nothing happened, instantly returning to what he was doing with a small smile in your direction, almost professionally.

But, if it was just the two of you he'd be the one trying to deepen it every time. Hands instantly on your waist and pulling you towards him no matter the position.

This time he'd groan as you pulled away, trying to follow your lips with a pout. His hands on your waist would tighten trying to pull you back into him and restart the kiss. A hard thing to fight against.

⋆˙⟡Jin⟡˙⋆

He would heavily deepen on who was around when you did so.

If you were around the Maknaes, he'd probably play it off dramatically. Gasping and pushing you away slightly, just enough to try and make the others, and probably you, laugh at the display.

Around the older ones, he'd kiss you back for a split second. It would be a simple peck before he's pulling back with a smile and going back to what he was doing.

Both times I could see him making a silly comment about him being so desirable you just couldn't resist.

Alone, he'd follow your lead. If it was meant to be a simple kiss to say hi then thats all it would be. But, if you came there for a different reason most times he'd follow along.

⋆˙⟡Suga⟡˙⋆

Stoic. Doesn't matter who's around, he'll kiss you briefly before acting like nothing happened.

It's when the two of you are alone that he has a reaction, it's when his guard is down, he's not the biggest fan of PDA after all.

If you kiss him while he's working on something, he'd probably chuckle and kiss back quickly before turning away and going back to his work.

If it's while he's just sitting around doing pretty much nothing, he's kissing back harder, taking the lead of it almost instantly.

I don't think he'd try to deepen the kiss every time, rather he would try and keep the slow and sweet kiss for as long as possible and just enjoy the feel of your lips against his.

⋆˙⟡J-hope⟡˙⋆

He'd giggle, smiling against your lips instantly, so much that it ruins the kiss.

Once you'd pull away from the now giggly mess of a kiss he would try and stop you, attempting to pull you back towards him without much success.

He doesn't care who's around when you do it either. He loves kissing you and would brag about it to the people who were in the room anyway.

You wouldn't be able to leave the room afterwards. You woke up a monster and reminded him that you exist, and now you're stuck with his affection now matter how much you try to escape.

He would also be the one to kiss you randomly more than you would him, he loves it.

⋆˙⟡Jimin⟡˙⋆

Super giggly too. Probably makes a comment about PDA as he kisses you back.

If you were around the older members he'd be more embarrassed afterwards than anything, blushing and sinking slightly into himself with a grin. Acting as if he didn't enjoy it.

Just the younger ones around it's a different story. He'd be bragging about how his stunning partner was kissing him and not them.

"Be jealous losers." Energy while kissing you back with a somehow enhanced ego.

The type to follow your lips trying to restart the kiss over and over again.

⋆˙⟡V⟡˙⋆

He jokingly acts like you didn't do it, as if you were a ghost and he didn't feel the kiss happen.

He wouldn't vary depending on who was around, or even if it was in public. He's touchy and would love kissing you in front of others even if it made you embarrassed.

Would smirk into the kiss, even if it was just a simple peck, it would boost his ego a bit with every second that passed.

Also the type to try and deepen it if you're alone. He'd slowly try to progress the kiss even if you tried to pull away with a whine

He'd probably pull you back in and press his lips all over your face until you started laughing.

⋆˙⟡Jungkook⟡˙⋆

Oh he's kissing back, smile on his lips as he leans into you instinctively. Even if he's sitting down, he's leaning up and following your lips.

He'd be a bit more embarrassed if it was around any of the other members, still kissing back but his face and ears would grow bright red the second you did it.

He'd probably reach out for you for a second before pulling his hands back, forgetting you were around people for a second.

He would reach for you without stopping if nobody was around, his hands would probably land on your face to keep your lips closer to his.

You would have filed a defamation case for calling you derogatory names and would make sure that he sees the face of prison even if it’s only for a day. 

But the situation you are currently in… is kind of compromising. 

You had come to his cabin, slammed your resignation on his dark wood table, called him a selfish prick who wants nothing more than money and money. You threatened him that you would post about the company’s toxic work atmosphere in Linkedin and would give a one star review in Glassdoor but things turned around very quickly. 

Things accelerated from one argument to another (it’s only you who argued, he only replied calmly yet sharply), and now you are on your knees, mouth stuffed with his rock hard cock that you can’t even put in your mouth properly. 

You are but a woman and Kim Seokjin is way too handsome and tempting to turn down. 

He grabs the back of your neck and pushes your mouth more on his shaft. Your drool rolls down the back of his cock and your chin then drops on your shirt making it look darker than the original color. 

“Take me properly, Y/N!” Seokjin groans. 

It’s not your fault that you can’t take him. You are not inexperienced by any means but he is just so fucking big. 

You reel back to the time when you laughed at your co-worker for spreading the “Kim Seokjin has a giant dick” rumor. You thought he would be just average.

But oh boy! Were you wrong! 

Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes as you try to take him full. The tip nudges at the back of your throat and makes you gag instantly. 

Seokjin thrusts up and things become ten times harder. 

But who are you to complain? Especially because your panties are ruined already and you can only think of how good his cock would feel inside you. If you complain now, it will make you nothing but a hypocrite. 

You start bobbing your head matching the rhythm of your predator’s thrusts. Your free hand comes up to fondle his balls. 

Seokjin moans. And you feel a weird and useless sense of pride. 

Turning your bobs faster, you start sucking on him hard. You can feel him twitching inside the walls of your mouth. 

His breaths soon turn heavy, short-lived and ragged. 

You are not doing much better. 

It’s embarrassing to say but you feel the familiar coil in your abdomen regardless of not being touched. 

You rock your hips seeking for the tiny bit of friction that your own legs can provide you. 

But that catches Seokjin’s eyes. 

“Rutting against nothing huh? Such a desperate slut!” he degrades you more with a lopsided smile playing on his beautiful face. 

You don’t reply - of course he is right. 

He slams his pelvis on your face. Your nose collides with his pubic hair, making the intensity of your arousal wilder. 

Seokjin moans prettily again as his hip shudders and he cums inside your mouth. His hand on the back of your neck goes tiger, “swallow it!” he commands. 

You comply. You try to swallow his disposal without wasting a drop. And while doing so, you cum undone wetting your leggings. 

When he is satisfied with your act, he pulls himself out from your mouth. His cock is glistening with his arousal and your spit. 

The mixture of the same runs down your chin making you look even messier. 

“Get up.” he orders again. You do so without voicing any protest.  

“Oh ho!” his eyes are fixed on the apparent wet spot on your leggings, “you came in your pants? So pathetic of you,Y/N.” 

Now that you are coming down from your high, shame washes over you. 

You were here to resign from the job after he canceled your vacation application but you ended up doing things you never thought you would. 

“I will take my leave” you reply with downcast eyes, turning your heels already to pick up your bag and leave. 

“Did I say you can leave?” he stands up from his over-expensive chair. Walking towards where you are standing, he closes the gap between your bodies. 

“I just resig-”

“I don’t accept it.” he tugs a loose strand of hair behind your ears. 

“I am kind of mean, you see. I strive to keep the things that I like to myself and myself only.” he continues and gives you a sickeningly sweet smile. 

“Now come, let me fuck the brat out of you. So that you have more spice to add to that glassdoor review when I piss you off next time.” his finger traces the path of your shirt and lands on your chest. He circles his digit around your clothed nipple. You feel your arousal rushing back to you. 

Now if Kim Seokjin wants to fuck you, who are you to reject? But you are not as docile as he thinks you are. 

“Only if you accept the vacation application, Sir.”

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