yn mood

✧

✧ 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐣𝐢𝐧

Seokjin had always been the dramatic one, the member who could turn even the smallest inconvenience into a full theatrical performance.

But when it came to you, his secret love, that drama wasn’t just for show—it masked something much deeper. He was head over heels, the kind of love that kept him up at night thinking about your laugh, your voice, the way you looked at him when no one else was watching.

You two had agreed to keep it hidden for now, protecting the relationship from the intense spotlight of idol life. Still, every time someone else stole your attention, it hit him harder than he let on.

The backstage area buzzed with pre-concert energy. Staff members hurried around, stylists adjusted outfits, and the members stretched or reviewed last-minute details. Seokjin lounged against a table, flipping through his phone with practiced nonchalance, but his eyes kept drifting to you across the room.

You were chatting with one of the newer lighting technicians—a friendly, outgoing guy who had been making everyone laugh all week. The technician leaned in closer as he explained some technical detail, gesturing animatedly, and you smiled at him, nodding along.

Seokjin’s fingers paused on his screen. He forced a smile, but inside, irritation prickled. It’s just a conversation, he told himself. You’re allowed to talk to people.

Yet the way the guy’s hand brushed your shoulder lightly as he pointed something out on a tablet made Seokjin’s stomach twist. He cleared his throat loudly, but no one noticed. Fine. He could play this game.

“Wow, okayyyy, I see how it is,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for you to potentially hear if you were paying attention. You didn’t turn. The technician said something else, and you laughed again—that bright, genuine laugh that Seokjin usually earned with his dad jokes and cooking stories.

He pushed off the table, wandering closer under the pretense of grabbing a water bottle. “Guess I’m invisible now,” he added in a sing-song voice, dramatic and pouty, drawing a few amused glances from nearby staff. But his eyes stayed on you, sharp and needy.

Deep down, it wasn’t just theatrics. He genuinely felt the sting. He wanted your focus on him, your smiles directed at him, your time reserved for stolen moments in hotel rooms or quiet van rides where he could whisper how much he adored you.

The technician touched your arm again, this time resting his hand there a second too long while showing you a funny video on his phone. That was it.

Seokjin stepped forward with exaggerated flair, placing a hand on his chest like he’d been wounded. “Ah, I see the new lighting expert has taken over my role as the funniest person in the room. Should I just disappear into the background? Maybe become a stage prop?” His tone was light, teasing, but the undercurrent of real upset made his words sharper than usual.

The technician blinked, suddenly awkward, and pulled his hand back quickly.

You turned to Seokjin, catching the flash of genuine hurt behind his dramatic mask. The technician excused himself with a nervous chuckle, sensing the shift in atmosphere.

As soon as the two of you had a moment of semi-privacy near the edge of the room, Seokjin’s facade cracked further. He crossed his arms, lips pursed in that signature pout. “You like him more than me now? Be honest. I can take it. I’m just the handsome chef who makes you laugh and cooks your favorite meals at 2 a.m. No big deal.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, but before you could respond, he grabbed your hand and tugged you toward his private dressing room down the hall, closing the door firmly behind you. The lock clicked, sealing you both away from prying eyes.

The moment the world was shut out, Seokjin’s dramatic complaints melted into raw emotion. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a tight back hug from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.

His breath was warm against your neck. “I hate this,” he whispered, voice dropping the playful tone. “I hate pretending I don’t care when someone else touches you or makes you laugh. I want all of it. Your attention, your time, your everything. It’s selfish, but I’m in love with you. Secretly, stupidly, completely.”

His hands roamed up your sides, pulling you closer against his chest. The clinginess kicked in hard—exactly as expected after his jealousy flared. He pressed a series of soft forehead kisses along your hairline, then turned you in his arms to face him. “You like me more, right? Tell me. I need to hear it.”

“Of course I do, Jin. Only you,” you reassured him, and that was all it took.

His mouth descended on yours in a kiss that started tender but quickly ignited with pent-up need. Seokjin kissed like he performed— with full commitment and flair.

His lips moved against yours hungrily, tongue teasing until you parted for him. He backed you toward the couch, never breaking contact, his large hands cupping your face as if you might vanish.

Clothes came off in a heated rush. He peeled your shirt away slowly, savoring the reveal of your skin, then shed his own to expose his broad shoulders and toned chest. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion and desire.

He laid you down on the couch, hovering over you, dropping more forehead kisses and soft ones along your collarbone. His hands explored everywhere—squeezing your waist, tracing your curves, gripping your thighs as he settled between them.

Seokjin took his time, despite the urgency of his jealousy. He kissed down your body, lingering at your breasts, sucking one nipple into his mouth while his fingers played with the other. You arched into him, fingers threading through his dark hair.

Lower, he went, until his breath ghosted over your core. He looked up at you with those expressive eyes, still a hint of that dramatic pout lingering. “This is mine. Only mine.”

His tongue delved in, licking a slow stripe through your folds before focusing on your clit with precise, teasing circles. Two fingers slid inside you, curling expertly as he worked you open. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending sparks up your spine.

Seokjin ate you out with the same dedication he put into everything—thorough, passionate, a little extra. He brought you right to the edge, then eased back, kissing your inner thighs while you caught your breath.

“Not yet,” he said, climbing back up your body. “I want to be inside you when you come. I want to feel how much you want me.”

He positioned himself, rubbing the thick head of his cock against your entrance, slick with your arousal and his saliva. With a deep push, he entered you, both of you groaning at the perfect fit.

Seokjin’s hips rolled slowly at first, savoring the connection, but jealousy still simmered beneath the surface. His pace quickened, thrusts becoming deeper and more insistent.

“Tell me again,” he panted between kisses, pinning your hands above your head with one of his. “You like me more, right? Say it while I fuck you.”

“I like you more—fuck, Jin, so much more,” you moaned, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper.

That spurred him on. He released your hands to grip your hips, angling you so every thrust hit that sweet spot inside. The room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, your shared gasps, and his occasional dramatic whispers. “That’s right. No one else gets to make you feel like this. No technician, no staff, no one. Just me.”

He shifted positions, pulling you up so you straddled him on the couch. You rode him while he guided your movements with strong hands on your ass, thrusting up to meet you. His mouth latched onto your neck, sucking marks that would be hidden under your clothes later.

One hand slipped between you, thumb circling your clit in time with your bounces.

Pleasure coiled tight in your belly. Seokjin could feel you tightening around him. “Come for me, baby. Show me I’m the only one.”

Your orgasm hit hard, waves crashing through you as you clenched around his cock, crying out his name. Seokjin followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a long, satisfied groan.

His arms wrapped around you tightly in another back hug as you both came down, even while still connected.

For several minutes, he just held you like that, pressing forehead kisses to your temple, your cheeks, anywhere he could reach. The clinginess returned full force.

“I’m sorry for being dramatic out there,” he murmured, nuzzling your neck. “But I can’t help it. When I see someone else getting your smiles, it makes me realize how badly I want to tell the whole world you’re mine. Until then… stay close to me, okay? Lots of hugs like this. Lots of kisses. And always tell me I’m your favorite.”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair. “You are my favorite, Jin. Dramatics and all.”

He smiled, genuine and warm now that the jealousy had been soothed by your touch. But he wasn’t done. After cleaning you both up gently, he pulled you back into his lap, hands wandering again. “Round two,” he announced with a playful wink. “I need more reassurance. And more of those sounds you make just for me.”

This time was slower, more intimate. He took you from behind while you leaned over the couch arm, his chest pressed to your back in a constant hug.

One arm wrapped around your waist, the other between your legs, rubbing you as he thrust steadily. He whispered praises and silly jokes mixed with love confessions, keeping things light even as pleasure built again.

By the end, you were both exhausted in the best way, tangled together on the couch with his arms securely around you. Seokjin’s dramatic jealousy had led to this—raw passion, tender aftercare, and a deeper bond strengthened in secret. He kissed your forehead one last time.

“Don’t forget who loves you most, even when I have to pretend I don’t in front of everyone else.”

The concert would start soon, and he’d be back to his charismatic, funny self on stage. But you would carry his touch, his words, and the quiet promise of more hidden moments like this.

✧

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢

Yoongi didn’t need to raise his voice or put on a show for his jealousy to land like ice water down the spine. It was the silence that made it terrifying—the way his face stayed almost neutral, sharp eyes narrowing just a fraction, while the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

He was in love with you in the quietest, most consuming way possible. A love built on late-night studio sessions where words weren’t necessary, on shared headphones and fingers brushing under tables. You kept it secret because that was the only way it could survive right now. But secrets had a way of sharpening everything else, especially the possessiveness he rarely let show.

The green room hummed with the usual pre-show chaos. Staff adjusted mics, members chatted in low voices, and you stood near the couch talking to one of the tour photographers.

The guy was friendly, talented, and clearly interested. He leaned against the wall, camera slung around his neck, smiling as he showed you some shots from the previous night on his screen. “You always end up looking perfect in these,” he said, voice dropping a little. “The way the light hits you… I could shoot you for hours.”

You laughed politely, flipping through the images. Yoongi sat on the opposite couch, hood up, earbuds in but no music playing. His expression didn’t change. He looked half-asleep, legs stretched out, cap pulled low. But his gaze followed every movement.

The way the photographer stepped closer. The way his hand brushed your elbow to point at something on the screen. The way you smiled back—not flirtatious, but warm enough to twist something deep in Yoongi’s chest.

He didn’t speak. Not at first. His answers to the staff member asking about setlist changes became short, almost curt. “Yeah.” “Fine.” “Whatever works.” The calm shifted. People around him started glancing over, sensing the subtle change in the air without understanding why. Yoongi’s eyes stayed locked on you, dark and unreadable, tracking the photographer’s every gesture like a predator deciding exactly when to strike.

When the guy laughed at something you said and let his fingers linger on your arm, tracing a light path down to your wrist while complimenting your “natural presence,” Yoongi moved. No words.

No dramatic sigh. He simply stood, crossed the room in that slow, deliberate way of his, and slid an arm around your waist from behind. His hand settled firmly, fingers pressing into your side with quiet ownership. He pulled you back against his chest, chin brushing your shoulder for a brief second before he released you—but not really. His presence stayed right there, a wall of silent warning.

The photographer straightened immediately, mumbling something about checking equipment, and disappeared faster than expected. Yoongi didn’t smile. He didn’t gloat. He just looked at you once, eyes saying everything his mouth wouldn’t: We’re leaving. Now.

He guided you out with that same hand on your waist, touch deceptively light but impossible to ignore. Down the hallway to his private dressing room.

The door shut with a soft click. The lock turned. And then the real shift happened.

Yoongi leaned against the door for a moment, staring at you. Still silent. The jealousy didn’t explode out of him like it might with the others. It coiled, controlled, and burned hotter because of it. He crossed to you slowly, backing you against the makeup counter without touching you at first.

His hands finally came up, framing your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks with surprising gentleness before his grip tightened just enough.

“You let him touch you,” he said, voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a question. “Laughed with him. Let him look at you like that.”

His lips crashed into yours before you could answer—slow, deep, devastating. Yoongi kissed like he produced music: layered, intentional, every movement building something heavier. His tongue slid against yours, claiming, while one hand dropped to your waist again, pulling your hips flush against him.

You could feel how hard he already was, pressed against your stomach.

He broke the kiss only to trail his mouth down your neck, sucking lightly at first, then harder, leaving marks that would hide under your collar. “Mine,” he breathed against your skin. No theatrics.

Just fact. His hands worked methodically, peeling your shirt off, then his own. The sight of his pale skin, slim but toned torso, and the faint lines of muscle made your breath catch. He lifted you onto the counter, stepping between your legs.

Yoongi’s possessiveness showed in the calmest, most intense ways. He didn’t rush. He unbuttoned your pants and dragged them down along with your underwear, eyes never leaving yours. When you were bare, he ran his palms up your thighs, spreading them wider.

Two fingers traced your entrance, feeling how wet you already were, before sliding in deep. He curled them slowly, perfectly, watching every flicker across your face.

“Eyes on me,” he murmured when your head tipped back. His free hand gripped your chin, forcing your gaze back to his. Those dark eyes held you captive while his fingers pumped steadily, thumb circling your clit with maddening precision.

The room filled with the wet sounds of his hand and your growing moans, but Yoongi stayed mostly quiet, only letting out low, controlled breaths.

He brought you right to the edge, then withdrew his fingers, ignoring your frustrated whimper. He freed himself from his pants, thick and flushed, stroking once before pressing the head against you.

One smooth thrust and he buried himself to the hilt, groaning softly into your neck. The stretch was perfect, overwhelming.

His hips rolled in deep, measured strokes. Not frantic—deliberate. Each thrust claimed you, reminded you exactly who you belonged to. One arm wrapped around your back, holding you impossibly close, while the other braced on the counter. Skin met skin in rhythmic slaps, but his voice stayed low.

“No one else gets this,” he whispered against your ear, biting the lobe. “No one else hears you moan like this. No one else feels how tight you get when I’m inside you.” His pace increased gradually, still controlled, but the jealousy fueled every snap of his hips. He angled just right, hitting that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes.

You clutched his shoulders, nails digging in. “Yoongi—”

“Say it,” he demanded quietly, voice dark. “Tell me who you belong to while I fuck you.”

“You. Only you.”

That seemed to break something in his restraint. He lifted you off the counter, turning you around and bending you over it. Your hands braced on the cool surface as he entered you again from behind, deeper this way.

One hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, the other reached around to rub your clit in tight circles. His chest pressed to your back, lips against your shoulder as he thrust harder, faster, but still terrifyingly silent except for the occasional low groan.

The orgasm built like a wave you couldn’t escape. When it crashed over you, your walls clenched around him, legs shaking. Yoongi followed moments later, burying himself deep and coming with a quiet, shuddering breath, filling you completely.

He stayed inside you for a long minute, arms wrapped around your waist, face pressed to your back.

Finally, he pulled out carefully, cleaning you both with a warm cloth from the side table. He didn’t speak much even then. Just pulled you into his arms on the small couch, holding you against his chest.

His fingers traced slow patterns on your bare skin—possessive, soothing. The silent jealousy had morphed into this: quiet intensity, the kind that wrapped around you like smoke.

“I hate it,” he said eventually, voice barely audible. “Seeing someone else flirt with you. Touch you. Makes me want to pull you away every single time. I know we can’t say anything yet. But you’re mine. In every way that matters.”

You turned in his arms, kissing his jaw. “I am yours, Yoongi. Always.”

He nodded once, eyes softening just a fraction. But the possessiveness lingered. His hand slid down to grip your thigh, pulling you closer. “Good. Because we still have time before soundcheck.”

His lips found yours again, slower this time, but no less hungry.

The second round was different—slower, face to face on the couch, your legs wrapped around his waist as he moved inside you with those same deep, claiming strokes. He kept his forehead against yours, eyes locked, forcing you to feel every emotion he rarely voiced.

When you came again, whispering his name like a prayer, he followed, spilling into you once more with a quiet curse.

Afterward, he held you tightly, pressing soft kisses to your temple. No dramatic declarations.

No over-the-top clinginess. Just Yoongi—silent, steady, and terrifyingly in love. The kind of love that didn’t need noise to be felt in your bones.

He helped you dress eventually, adjusting your clothes so the marks he left stayed hidden.

When you stepped back into the hallway, his expression had returned to that neutral calm. But his hand brushed your lower back one last time, a secret reminder.

The mood around him stayed shifted for the rest of the evening. Short answers. Watching eyes. And when anyone got too close to you again, that arm found your waist without a word.

Because Yoongi’s jealousy didn’t roar. It simply took what was his, quietly, completely, and left no room for doubt.

✧

✧ 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤

Hoseok was sunshine personified—bright smiles, infectious laughter, and that endless energy that lit up every room he entered. But when jealousy crept in, especially over you, the person he was secretly, deeply in love with, that sunshine didn’t disappear. It just burned hotter, more focused, until it consumed everything else.

He tried so hard to play it cool, to keep things light and fun like always, because that was his role. The one who kept morale high. The one who made everyone feel at ease. But with you, his ult, his hidden heart, the mask slipped faster than he could catch it.

The backstage lounge was alive with pre-rehearsal chatter. Members stretched, stylists touched up makeup, and you were standing near the snack table talking to one of the new choreographers—a charismatic guy who’d been brought in for a fresh routine. He was funny, confident, and clearly drawn to your energy. He demonstrated a quick footwork move, laughing as you tried to copy it, his hand lightly steadying your waist for balance.

“See? You’ve got natural rhythm,” he said, eyes lingering a second too long. “We should practice together sometime. I could teach you a lot.”

Hoseok, who had been sipping water across the room while chatting with staff, felt the shift instantly. He forced a wide smile, the one that usually lit up stages worldwide, and sauntered over with his signature playful bounce. “Yah, what’s this? Stealing my favorite dance partner?” he teased, voice bright and sing-song.

But the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. It tightened at the corners, turning a little sharp. His laugh when the choreographer joked back sounded forced, almost brittle.

He tried again, keeping it playful. “Careful, she might outshine you on stage if you teach her too well!” Another laugh, but it fell flat even to his own ears.

Deep down, it wasn’t funny. Not when this guy had his hand on your waist. Not when you were smiling at someone else the way Hoseok wanted you smiling at him in every stolen moment—those quiet van rides, late-night texts, and hidden hotel nights where he whispered how much he adored you. You were his secret, his everything, and watching someone else flirt so openly made his chest ache with a need he couldn’t voice publicly.

The choreographer chuckled and touched your arm again, leaning in to say something quieter. That was the breaking point. Hoseok’s playful facade crumbled in an instant. He moved smoothly but decisively, sliding right beside you. One arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you firmly against his side. His other hand found yours, fingers intertwining tightly.

He rested his chin on top of your head, nuzzling in just enough to make his claim crystal clear without words. The warmth of his body enveloped you, that familiar mix of cologne and stage energy that was so distinctly him.

“Actually,” Hoseok said, voice still light but edged with something deeper, “we have some partner work we need to go over. Right now.” His smile stayed plastered on for the choreographer, but his grip on you tightened. Everyone in the room could see it—you two were close. Very close.

The choreographer got the message, nodding awkwardly and stepping back with a quick excuse about checking the stage layout.

As soon as the guy was out of sight, Hoseok didn’t let go. If anything, he held you tighter. His arm around your shoulders became a full embrace, chin still on your head as he swayed you gently side to side like you were dancing to music only he could hear. “I hate that,” he murmured into your hair, voice dropping the playful tone. “I try to act cool, but seeing him touch you… it makes me want to pull you away and keep you all to myself. You’re my person. My favorite. I need everyone to know how close we are, even if we can’t tell them everything yet.”

He guided you down the hallway to his private dressing room, never once releasing your hand. The door closed behind you, and the lock clicked. In the quiet space, Hoseok’s energy shifted completely.

He turned to you, eyes soft but burning with that mix of love and jealousy. “You know you’re my ult, right? My everything. I can’t stand the thought of someone else thinking they can have even a piece of you.”

His hands cupped your face tenderly, thumbs brushing your cheeks, before he kissed you. It wasn’t rushed—it was deep, passionate, full of all the affection he poured into every performance. Hoseok kissed like he danced: with soul, with fire, with every part of himself.

His tongue moved against yours in perfect rhythm, drawing soft sounds from you that made him smile against your lips.

Clothes disappeared between heated kisses and wandering hands. He peeled your shirt off slowly, worshipping every inch of skin he revealed with his mouth. “So beautiful,” he whispered, voice husky.

His own shirt came off next, revealing his toned dancer’s body, lean muscle honed from years of powerful performances. He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the wide couch.

Hoseok laid you down like you were precious, but his touches grew more urgent. He kissed down your neck, sucking gentle marks along your collarbone—marks only the two of you would see.

His hands explored your curves, squeezing your hips, tracing your thighs as he removed the rest of your clothes. When you were bare beneath him, he took a moment just to look, eyes full of adoration. “Mine,” he said softly, almost reverently. “All mine.”

He settled between your legs, mouth hot and eager as he tasted you. His tongue moved with expert precision—playful flicks on your clit mixed with deep, languid strokes that had you gripping his hair. Two fingers slid inside you, curling in that way he knew drove you crazy, matching the rhythm of his mouth. Hoseok moaned against you, the vibrations sending sparks through your body.

He looked up at you the whole time, eyes locked, making sure you felt exactly how much he needed this.

But he didn’t let you finish that way. He wanted to be closer. Needed it. Hoseok climbed back up, shedding the last of his clothes, his cock hard and flushed with need.

He rubbed the tip against your entrance, teasing just enough to make you whimper, before sliding in deep with one smooth thrust. The feeling of him filling you completely drew matching groans from both of you.

He started slow, rolling his hips in that fluid, dancer-like motion, grinding deep. One hand held yours above your head, fingers still intertwined, while the other caressed your face. “Look at me, baby,” he breathed, forehead resting against yours. “I need you to see how much I love you. How crazy you make me.”

The pace built gradually, thrusts becoming more powerful, more possessive. Skin met skin with rhythmic slaps, the couch creaking softly beneath you. Hoseok’s usual playfulness returned in little ways—he nipped at your lip with a small smile, whispered silly-sweet things between moans—but the jealousy fueled an intensity that made everything hotter. He shifted you onto your side, lifting one leg over his shoulder so he could go even deeper, hitting that perfect spot with every stroke.

“You feel so good,” he panted, sweat glistening on his skin. “No one else gets this. No one else gets to hold you, touch you, love you like I do.” His free hand slipped between you, thumb circling your clit in tight, perfect patterns. The combination sent you spiraling fast.

When you came, it hit like a wave—walls clenching around him as you cried out his name. Hoseok followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a long, throaty moan, hips stuttering through the pleasure. He collapsed gently on top of you, careful not to crush you, arms wrapping around you in the tightest hug.

Even in the afterglow, the clinginess stayed. He pressed kisses all over your face—forehead, cheeks, nose, lips—while still inside you. “I’m sorry I got jealous,” he whispered, nuzzling your neck.

“But I can’t help it. You’re my ult, my sunshine, my reason for smiling even on hard days. I need the world to see how close we are, even if it’s just through little things like holding your hand or resting my chin on your head.”

He pulled out eventually, cleaning you both with gentle care before pulling you into his lap. The second round came naturally, slower and sweeter this time. You rode him on the couch, his hands guiding your hips as he looked up at you with pure adoration.

He sat up midway, arms around your waist in a full embrace, mouths meeting in messy kisses while he thrust up to meet you. More forehead kisses, more whispers of love, more of that special energy only Hoseok could bring.

Afterward, tangled together and breathing softly, he kept you close. Fingers tracing patterns on your back, chin resting on your head again. “Promise me something?” he asked quietly. “No matter who flirts or how hard we have to hide this… you’ll always come back to me like this.

Let me hold you, love you, remind you that you’re my favorite person in the entire universe.”

You smiled, kissing his jaw. “Always, Hobi. You’re my ult too.”

Hoseok’s bright laugh returned, genuine this time, as he hugged you tighter. The jealousy had faded, replaced by warmth and certainty.

He would go back out there soon with his playful energy, but everyone would still see it—that extra closeness, the way his arm found your shoulders so naturally, the protective glint in his eye. Because when it came to you, Hoseok didn’t just love quietly. He loved with his whole heart, his whole body, and everyone nearby would feel it.

✧

✧ 𝐉𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧

Jimin carried his heart in his eyes. That was what made his jealousy so devastating—not loud or possessive in a flashy way, but a quiet ache that turned those expressive eyes softer, almost glassy, like the light inside him had dimmed. He was deeply, secretly in love with you, the kind of love that bloomed in stolen glances during rehearsals and whispered confessions in the dark of hotel rooms.

You kept it hidden because the world demanded it, but that only made moments like this cut deeper. He wasn’t angry. He was hurt. The kind of hurt that made him question everything.

The waiting area backstage before the showcase was filled with the usual energy—stylists rushing with last-minute fixes, members warming up their voices, and low chatter bouncing off the walls. Jimin sat on a low couch, legs tucked under him gracefully, scrolling through his phone. But his attention wasn’t on the screen. It was on you, across the room, talking to one of the backup vocal coaches.

The guy was kind, experienced, and had a gentle way of speaking that clearly put you at ease. He laughed at something you said, leaning in slightly as he offered tips on a tricky harmony, his hand resting briefly on your shoulder in encouragement.

Jimin’s smile, the one he’d been holding for the staff earlier, faltered. His eyes softened, the usual sparkle dulling into something quieter, more vulnerable. He looked away for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek, but his gaze kept drifting back. Do they make you happier than I do? The thought crept in uninvited. Am I bothering you lately? Maybe I’ve been too clingy in our secret texts. Maybe you need someone who doesn’t have to hide. His fingers tightened around his phone, but outwardly, he stayed composed—almost too still, too quiet. The members noticed the shift; Jungkook asked if he was okay, and Jimin just nodded with a small, forced curve of his lips.

When the coach’s hand lingered on your arm a second longer while demonstrating a breathing technique, Jimin couldn’t stay seated. He stood gracefully, crossing the room without fanfare. No dramatic words, no tight smiles like Hoseok might use. Just a gentle touch—his hand slipping into yours, fingers intertwining as he tugged you lightly toward him. “Hey,” he said softly, voice barely above a murmur. “Can we talk for a minute?” His eyes met yours, pleading in that subtle way only you could read. The coach sensed the moment and stepped back with a polite nod.

Jimin led you down the hallway to his private dressing room, his hold on your hand never loosening. Once inside, with the door closed and the world locked out, the overthinking spilled quietly from him. He turned to you, eyes even softer now, almost misty. He didn’t let go of your hand, instead pulling it up to press against his chest so you could feel his heartbeat—steady but a little faster than usual.

“I saw you with him,” he whispered, voice gentle but laced with that hurt. “The way he made you laugh… it was nice. Really nice. Do they make you happier than I do? Be honest with me. I can take it, I think. But lately I keep wondering if I’m bothering you. If all these secret moments, the late calls when I can’t sleep, the way I always want you close… maybe it’s too much. Maybe you need space.”

His free hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, touch feather-light, as if afraid you might pull away. Those beautiful eyes searched yours, vulnerable and open in a way he rarely showed the world. Jimin melted when he felt loved, but right now, the jealousy had him unraveling in the softest, most heartbreaking way.

You reassured him immediately, cupping his face and telling him how much he meant to you—how no one compared, how his attention was your favorite thing. The words worked like magic. His shoulders relaxed, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he leaned into your palm. “Really?” he breathed, voice cracking just a little. And then he melted completely, stepping closer until his body pressed against yours, arms wrapping around your waist in a needy embrace. “I need you,” he murmured against your neck. “Show me I’m still your favorite.”

The kiss started tender, almost hesitant, like he was afraid to ask for too much. But as you deepened it, pouring reassurance into every brush of lips and tongue, Jimin came alive. His hands roamed your back, pulling you impossibly closer, fingers tracing the curve of your spine with familiar reverence. Clothes came off slowly, between soft kisses and whispered affirmations. He peeled your shirt away like unwrapping something precious, lips following the path of exposed skin—collarbone, shoulder, the dip between your breasts.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, eyes drinking you in. His own shirt slipped off, revealing the lean, sculpted lines of his dancer’s body, skin glowing under the warm lights. He lifted you onto the vanity table, stepping between your legs, hands gentle but sure on your thighs. “Tell me again,” he asked softly, forehead resting against yours. “That I’m the one you want.”

“You’re the only one, Jimin. Always.”

That was all he needed. He kissed you deeply, tongues sliding together as his hands explored. He cupped your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they peaked under his touch, drawing quiet gasps from you. Lower, his fingers trailed, slipping between your legs to find you already wet for him. Two slender fingers eased inside, curling slowly, perfectly, while his thumb brushed your clit in lazy circles. He watched your face the entire time, eyes soft and locked on yours, feeding on every moan like it was oxygen.

“Please,” you breathed, and he nodded, removing his fingers to free himself. His cock was hard, flushed, curving beautifully as he stroked it once before pressing against your entrance. He slid in slowly, savoring every inch, both of you sighing at the connection. Jimin’s hips rolled in fluid, graceful thrusts—deep and unhurried, like a dance only the two of you knew. One arm wrapped around your back, holding you close, while the other braced on the table.

“Feel me,” he whispered, voice husky with emotion. “I’m yours too. Completely.” His pace stayed tender at first, but reassurance turned the heat up. He buried his face in your neck, sucking soft marks as his thrusts grew firmer, hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl. You clung to his shoulders, nails lightly scratching his back, and he shivered in pleasure.

He pulled back to look at you again, eyes half-lidded but shining. “I was scared for a second… that maybe someone else could make you smile bigger. But this—us—it’s everything.” The vulnerability mixed with desire made it intensely intimate. He shifted you slightly, angling deeper, one hand slipping between you to rub your clit in time with his movements. The build was slow, overwhelming, until you came with a soft cry, clenching around him, pulling him over the edge too. Jimin moaned your name quietly, spilling deep inside you, hips stuttering as waves of pleasure washed over him.

He stayed inside you for a long moment, holding you tightly, foreheads pressed together as breaths mingled. Then the melting happened fully—soft kisses all over your face, gentle hands cleaning you both with a warm towel from the side counter. He carried you to the small couch, curling around you like a koala, legs tangled, arms secure around your waist. “Thank you,” he murmured, nuzzling your hair. “For always making me feel wanted. I get so scared sometimes that I’m not enough in all this hiding.”

“You’re more than enough,” you reassured him again, fingers carding through his hair. He practically purred at the touch, eyes closing in contentment.

The second round came naturally, slower and even more emotional. You straddled him on the couch, sinking down onto him inch by inch while he gazed up at you like you hung the stars. His hands guided your hips, but gently, letting you set the rhythm. Every roll of your body drew soft praises from him—“So good… you feel perfect… I love you like this.” He sat up midway, chest to chest, arms wrapped fully around you in a tight embrace as he thrust up to meet you. Mouths met in lazy, deep kisses, tongues dancing as pleasure built again. When you both came this time, it was together—whispers and shudders, bodies trembling in sync.

Afterward, Jimin kept you in his lap, tracing invisible patterns on your skin, chin resting on your shoulder. The hurt jealousy had dissolved into pure, warm affection. He was quiet again, but this time it was peaceful, content. “I don’t want to go back out there yet,” he admitted with a small smile. “Just a little longer like this. You make everything better.”

He would return to the others soon, eyes bright once more, that charming stage persona slipping back into place. But the secret marks on your skin, the way his hand would brush yours a little longer than necessary, and the soft glances only you understood—they would remind everyone, subtly, that his heart was already claimed. Jimin’s love was like that: not loud, but profound. And when reassured, he gave it back tenfold, melting completely into the person who made his world feel right.

✧

✧ 𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠

Taehyung felt everything deeply. Love, joy, sadness — and especially jealousy. Out of all the members, no one burned with it quite like he did. You weren’t dating. Not officially. You had never put a label on whatever this was between you: stolen kisses in the studio after midnight, fingers brushing under tables, late-night talks where he called you his soulmate in that low, sincere voice of his. But the lack of a title didn’t stop the fierce possessiveness that surged through him every time someone else got too close to you. If anything, it made it worse. Because without a label, he had no real right to feel this way — yet he felt it all the same.

The green room before the soundcheck was lively. Members sprawled across couches, staff moved around with tablets and cables, and you were sitting on the arm of a chair talking to one of the new international staff members — a tall, friendly guy who had been helping with translations. He was charming in an easy way, laughing as he showed you something on his phone. Taehyung sat across the room, legs spread wide, wearing an oversized hoodie, but his usual boxy smile was nowhere to be found.

Instead, his dark eyes were locked on you. Brows slightly furrowed. Lips pressed into a straight line. He didn’t even realize how obvious it was until Jungkook nudged Jimin and both of them started smirking.

“Hyung, you’re staring again,” Jungkook teased quietly, loud enough for the others to hear. “Looking like someone kicked your puppy.”

Taehyung blinked, trying to school his expression into something neutral, but it was too late. The frown was already there, deep and sulky. His gaze flicked back to you immediately. The staff guy leaned closer to show you another video, his hand resting casually on the back of your chair. Taehyung’s jaw tightened. That should be him. Sitting next to you. Making you laugh like that. Being the only one allowed in your space.

He stood up suddenly, long legs carrying him across the room without thinking. The members watched with knowing grins — they had seen this side of Taehyung more than once when it came to you.

“Hey,” he said, voice deep and a little rough as he stopped right beside you. He didn’t even acknowledge the staff member at first. His eyes were only on you. “Come sit with me instead.”

You looked up, catching the unmistakable sulk in his expression. The staff guy paused mid-sentence, suddenly aware of the heavy aura surrounding Taehyung.

“I was just—” you started, but Taehyung was already gently taking your hand, fingers wrapping around yours with quiet determination.

“Please?” he added, softer this time, but the jealousy was written all over his face. Big brown eyes, slight pout, shoulders a little hunched like the weight of watching you with someone else actually hurt him physically. The staff member cleared his throat awkwardly and found an excuse to leave.

The second you let Taehyung pull you over to the couch and sit beside him, his entire mood shifted. The frown melted away. That beautiful boxy smile broke across his face like sunshine after rain. He immediately draped one long arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his side, chin resting lightly on your head. Soulmate behavior. Like the universe had clicked back into place now that you were close again.

“Much better,” he murmured happily, voice low enough for only you to hear. His fingers played with the sleeve of your shirt, absentmindedly tracing patterns. The members exchanged amused looks but didn’t comment further.

But the jealousy hadn’t disappeared. It had simply been redirected into need.

A little while later, when the room cleared out slightly, Taehyung leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “Come with me for a minute.” No room for argument. He took your hand again and led you to his private dressing room, locking the door behind you with a soft click.

The moment you were alone, the intensity returned. He backed you against the wall, hands framing your face as he stared down at you with those soulful eyes.

“I hate it,” he confessed, voice husky. “I know we’re not… official. But seeing him next to you, making you laugh, touching your chair like that — it drives me crazy. You’re mine in here.” He pressed a hand over his own heart. “You feel like my soulmate. Even if we haven’t said the words yet. I get so jealous I can’t hide it.”

His kiss was deep and consuming, the kind only Taehyung could give — passionate, emotional, like he was pouring his entire soul into it. Tongues moved slowly, tasting, claiming. His large hands slid down your body, gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him so you could feel how hard he already was.

Clothes came off with urgent but reverent touches. He peeled your shirt away, kissing every inch of skin he revealed, whispering how beautiful you were, how no one else should ever get to stand that close to you. When he removed his own hoodie and shirt, revealing his broad shoulders and toned chest, you couldn’t help but run your hands over him. He shivered under your touch.

Taehyung lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the couch and laying you down. He hovered over you, eyes never leaving yours as he removed the rest of your clothes. “So perfect,” he breathed, kissing down your stomach until he reached your core. He took his time, tongue moving in slow, sensual strokes, savoring you like fine wine. Two long fingers pushed inside you, curling gently while his mouth focused on your clit. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending pleasure shooting through your body.

But he didn’t let you finish there. He needed to be closer.

Rising up, he freed himself, thick and flushed, and rubbed the tip against your entrance. “Look at me,” he whispered. The eye contact was intense as he pushed in slowly, stretching you open inch by inch until he was buried deep. Both of you groaned at the feeling.

His thrusts started deep and rhythmic, hips rolling in that smooth, artistic way of his. One hand held yours above your head, fingers intertwined, while the other cradled the back of your neck so he could keep kissing you. “You’re mine,” he panted between kisses, even though you weren’t officially. “Even if the world doesn’t know yet. Tell me you feel it too.”

“I feel it, Tae. Only you.”

That reassurance made him melt and burn at the same time. His pace picked up, thrusts becoming harder, more desperate. The jealousy that had been simmering all afternoon poured out in every movement — possessive but full of love. He shifted you so your legs wrapped higher around his waist, going deeper, hitting that spot that made you see stars.

When you came, clenching tightly around him and moaning his name, Taehyung followed right after, burying his face in your neck as he spilled deep inside you with a low, broken groan. His body trembled against yours, arms wrapping around you tightly like he never wanted to let go.

Even after, the clinginess stayed. He cleaned you gently, then pulled you into his lap, arms locked around your waist, chin on your shoulder. “I know I get too jealous,” he admitted quietly, pressing soft kisses to your temple. “But I can’t help it. You’re my person. My soulmate. Watching someone else get your attention feels like losing a piece of myself.”

You stayed like that for a while, his hands gently stroking your back, mood completely bright again now that he had you all to himself. When desire built once more, the second round was slower, more intimate. You rode him on the couch, his hands guiding your hips while he looked up at you with pure adoration. He sat up to kiss you deeply, chest to chest, whispering sweet nothings and jealous little confessions between moans.

By the time you both finished again, you were tangled together, breathing softly. Taehyung kept you close, refusing to let go just yet. “Stay with me a little longer,” he murmured, voice warm. “I need more of this. More of you.”

He would go back out there soon with that signature boxy smile, acting like nothing happened. But everyone would notice how his eyes followed you, how he found excuses to sit next to you, how his hand always seemed to find yours when no one was looking too closely. Because Taehyung’s jealousy wasn’t subtle — it was obvious, deep, and rooted in a love so strong it didn’t need a label to feel real.

He was the most jealous for a reason. You were his soulmate. And he would keep reminding you — and everyone else — of that fact, one stolen moment at a time.

✧

✧ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤

Jungkook tried so hard not to care. He really did. He told himself a thousand times that you weren’t officially his, that the secret moments you shared—late-night gym sessions where he’d spot you, quiet studio cuddles, and stolen kisses behind closed doors—didn’t give him the right to feel possessive. But he cared the most. Out of everyone, no one’s heart twisted quite like his when someone else flirted with you. It made his ears burn red, his usual bright energy go quiet, and his big doe eyes stay glued to you like you were the only thing in the room.

The backstage lounge before the final rehearsal was buzzing. Members were scattered around, some playing games on their phones, others stretching or chatting with staff. Jungkook sat on the floor against the couch, pretending to scroll through his camera roll, but his attention was locked across the room where you stood talking to one of the young backup dancers. The guy was energetic, funny, and clearly interested. He kept leaning in, demonstrating a move and laughing when you tried it, his hand brushing your arm more than once.

Jungkook’s ears turned pink, then bright red. He pressed his lips together, trying to look unbothered, but his eyes never left you. That should be me,his brain repeated like a mantra. Making you laugh. Touching your arm. Standing that close. He stayed silent, jaw tight, fingers gripping his phone a little too hard. The members noticed. Jimin nudged Taehyung with a smirk, whispering something that made them both glance at Jungkook’s obvious struggle.

When the dancer stepped even closer, placing a hand on your waist to “correct your posture” while showing another step, Jungkook couldn’t stay back anymore. He stood up, ears still flaming, and crossed the room with that effortless athletic grace. Without a word, he slid right beside you, one arm wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you gently but firmly into his chest.

His other hand found yours, fingers intertwining tightly. To everyone else, he acted completely normal—casual smile, soft “hey” like he was just joining the conversation—but his body told a different story. His thumb stroked the back of your hand, and his fingers rested possessively on your waist, right where the other guy’s hand had been.

The dancer got the hint quickly, mumbling something about warming up and backing away. Jungkook’s ears were still red as he kept you pressed against him, chin resting lightly on top of your head for a second before he pulled back just enough to look normal. But inside? His brain was a mess of cute, jealous thoughts. Mine. Should be me. Only me

A few minutes later, when the room thinned out, he leaned down, voice low and a little shy. “Come with me?” He didn’t wait for a full answer, just gently tugged you toward his private dressing room, hand still holding yours the entire way. The second the door closed and locked, the shy act cracked open.

Jungkook turned to you, ears still tinged pink, big eyes soft and vulnerable. “I know I’m not supposed to care this much,” he admitted quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re not even… you know. But seeing him touch you like that? It makes me crazy. That should be me. Only me.”

His jealousy was the cutest thing in the world—those wide eyes, the way he tried so hard to play it cool but failed adorably, the soft pout forming on his lips. You smiled and stepped closer, cupping his face. The reassurance made him melt instantly. Jungkook leaned into your touch like a puppy, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before he pulled you into a tight hug, arms wrapping fully around you.

The kiss started sweet, almost shy, but quickly deepened with all the pent-up emotion. Jungkook kissed like he did everything else—with full commitment and passion. His hands roamed your back, pulling you flush against his strong body as his tongue moved against yours. He walked you backward until your legs hit the couch, then gently laid you down, hovering over you with those sparkling eyes.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, voice husky but still carrying that adorable nervousness. He helped you out of your shirt, then removed his own, revealing the sculpted muscles he worked so hard for. His hands were gentle as he explored your body, kissing down your neck, across your collarbone, and lower, sucking soft marks that made you shiver. When he reached your waistband, he looked up at you for permission, ears still faintly red.

Once you were both bare, Jungkook settled between your legs, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs before his tongue found your core. He was eager and attentive, licking and sucking with focused dedication, two fingers sliding inside you and curling just right. He moaned softly against you, the vibrations making your back arch. His free hand reached up to hold yours, fingers intertwined again—like even here, he needed that connection.

But he didn’t let you finish that way. He wanted to be closer. Jungkook climbed back up, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his lips. He stroked himself a few times, then lined up and pushed in slowly, groaning your name as he sank deep. The stretch was perfect, his thickness filling you completely. He stayed still for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing shakily.

“That should be me,” he whispered again, almost like he couldn’t help it. “Only me touching you. Only me making you feel good.”

His thrusts started deep and steady, hips rolling with that powerful athletic control. One hand stayed laced with yours above your head while the other gripped your thigh, holding you open for him. Jungkook’s jealousy melted into the sweetest, most intense lovemaking—every movement full of adoration and quiet possessiveness. He buried his face in your neck, kissing and nibbling as his pace gradually quickened.

“You feel so good,” he panted, voice adorably breathy. “So tight… so perfect. I get so jealous because I like you so much. Like… really like you.”

The confession made your heart flutter. You pulled him closer, legs wrapping tighter around his waist. Jungkook’s thrusts grew faster, deeper, hitting that spot inside you repeatedly until you were moaning his name. His hand slipped between you, thumb rubbing your clit in perfect circles. When you came, clenching hard around him and trembling, he followed right after with a cute, broken moan, burying himself deep and filling you with warm spurts.

He collapsed gently on top of you, careful not to crush you, arms wrapping around your body in the tightest hug. His ears were still pink as he nuzzled into your neck, pressing soft kisses everywhere he could reach. “Sorry if I was too obvious out there,” he mumbled, voice muffled against your skin. “I tried not to care… but I care so much. You’re my favorite person.”

The aftercare was pure Jungkook—sweet and attentive. He cleaned you both carefully with a warm towel, then pulled you into his lap on the couch, arms locked around you like he never wanted to let go. He kept playing with your fingers, intertwining them over and over, chin resting on your shoulder.

The second round came naturally, slower and even cuter. You straddled him, sinking down onto his cock while he looked up at you with those big, sparkling eyes full of affection. His hands guided your hips gently, but he let you set the pace, whispering praises and little jealous confessions between kisses. “No one else gets to hold you like this… only me, right?” He sat up halfway, chest pressed to yours in a warm embrace, thrusting up to meet you as you rode him.

The closeness made everything more intense. When you both came again, it was with soft moans and foreheads pressed together, bodies trembling in sync.

Afterward, Jungkook refused to let you move, cuddling you tightly against his chest, one hand stroking your hair. His jealousy had turned into the fluffiest, warmest afterglow. “Can we stay like this a little longer?” he asked, voice shy but hopeful. “I just… I like having you close. Makes me feel better.”

He would go back out there soon, acting cool with that signature Jungkook confidence, but everyone would notice the little things: how his hand always found yours, how his eyes followed you protectively, how his ears turned pink whenever someone got too friendly. Because when Jungkook got jealous, it wasn’t scary or dramatic—it was the cutest thing in the world.

A big, strong guy reduced to blushing ears and needy hugs, all because he cared the most.

And deep down, you loved every second of it.

© stlllle — 2O26

And hence, from a young age you have learned the fact that you are introverted - someone who is bad at communicating, making friends, talking about her needs and someone who preferred staying at home instead of mingling with people of her age. It doesn’t need to be said that society has labeled you as an outcast - and you never had a problem with it. 

Being incredibly good at studies has earned you positions made out of pure respect. You have been a favorite of teachers and even students who have received help from you in one way or another. So fortunately, you never got bullied, never in school, never in university and now… never in your workplace. 

With your score and achievements everyone expected you to join medical school - but something about technology has pulled you towards it. When you completed your degree in CSE with the record high score the country has ever seen - you had a swarm of scouting agents waiting for you everyday right outside your home. 

High paying jobs abroad looked tempting but only in theory. You, a person who never even did good with her own people in her own country, can hardly adjust in a different place with people talking in a different language and having different cultural values. So you opted for the best option you could find here - Haechi-Tech, an antivirus and digital security service provider. The best in the market not only in services but also in satisfaction rate among employees. 

It has been more than five years now. After being posted at one of the smaller offices in Daejeon, you were recently transferred to the headquarters in Seoul a year ago. And it is not to be said that you are keeping up with your aesthetics here as well. 

Being incredibly good at your job has made you talk in the company, and has earned you respect not only from your immediate superiors but also from the CEO and Chairman themselves. But then again… people only talk about you, not to you. 

Most of the time you don’t feel bad. But when you find your colleagues’ insta stories full of beer glasses and each others’ face - it hurts you a little. 

After a long day, you too, want to have a nice chat with someone. You, too, want to get drunk until you can’t recall your own name and not having someone to do that with you, pinches your insides a little for sure. 

Now saying that you don’t have a single friend will be wrong - you do have a single friend in this company and that said friend is also the person you have the fattest crush on. 

Although you are aware of all the ethical nuisance that are implemented in the course of office romance - you are also hundred percent sure that what you have for Taehyung will never be reciprocated, so you don’t resist yourself from feeling and falling for him. 

Kim Taehyung is the heartthrob of Haechi. He is the local celebrity of your company and almost everyone here has a crush on him (regardless of age and gender). 

If you call him handsome, it will be an understatement. He is crafted by the Greek gods themselves - he is magnificent by the way he looks, by the way he talks, by the way he walks and by the way he just exists. 

Alongside his face, his personality is just as nice. He talks to everyone as if he has personally known them for years and yet doesn’t make anyone feel uncomfortable. He becomes the center of attention wherever he goes, unlike you who tends to get unnoticed unless her achievements are mentioned. 

So in short, you and Taehyung are poles apart. And when you first saw him, your world tilted sideways just a little just like everyone else. But you never surrounded him like everyone does. You stayed at a distance, minding your own business. 

But both Taehyung and life had different plans as it seems. 

“Hey, you are in the development team, right?” the voice came from somewhere behind you. It was familiar yet unknown. The baritone edge brushed right against the skin of your neck.

The coffee machine suddenly felt like a rocket ship - too out of your reach, you forgot how to operate it. You gulped, staring down at it as if it would be stimulated just by your eyes and started working right away.

“I am talking to you, Y/N.” Suddenly the source of the voice got closer. And even before you knew it, he was right beside you.

“Are you ignoring me?” Taehyung’s head popped up on the empty spot above the machine, startling you out of your wits. With a yelp, you jumped back, knocking your one foot on another. Nothing could save you then from the amount of embarrassment you were about to suffer from. But right when you were about to fall ass-first on the floor, Taehyung grabbed you by both of your arms and pulled you closer to him. You stood straight, but hell, so freaking close to him.

The look in his eyes was menacing. A subtle, playful smirk accompanied the overall pleased look of his face.

“Than-thanks.” your voice came out breathy. There was so much going on inside your head that you didn’t know which one to address first.

“Oh, so you are finally acknowledging my presence then?” he asked, as you started standing on your own.

“I am sorry, uh- I didn’t think you would talk to me.” Going back to your coffee, you looked away. Although you could still feel his touch lingering on your skin.

“And why is that?” Taehyung came to stand right beside you. Your shoulder brushed against his upper arm. 

It was a completely new realm for you - having someone’s entire attention to yourself, especially when it’s not something work related. 

“No.. I mean… I am, what people call, an outcast here. And you are really popular. It’s a shock for me to learn that you know my name.” Shrugging, you took a sip of your coffee.  

“You are not an outcast.” His voice suddenly turned deeper, “if you were I would not be coming here to invite you to my birthday party.” 

What? He was inviting you to his birthday party? An unofficial schedule? 

“Give me your phone.” Taehyung continued, you only stared at his face like a deer caught in headlights, “come on, Y/N.” he nudged you with his elbow, leaving no other choice but to take out your phone from your pocket, unlock it and place it in his hands. 

Taehyung typed something in it and his own phone started vibrating. With a sigh you just accepted the fact that he exchanged his number with you. 

“I will text you the address. See you tomorrow?” He gave you a wild boxy smile, making your heart skip a beat. 

“Taehyung-ssi, I appreciate the invitation but I am not… I don’t feel comfortable amid unknown people. So, I might not attend the party. I hope you don’t mind.” No matter how big of a crush you had on the man, you were not going to come out of your comfort zone so easily. 

Taehyung stopped in his tracks, stared at you for a while and then smiled even bigger, “then… How about you go to that new ice-cream shop with me after work today?” 

“What?” 

“You heard me, Y/N.” 

His warm chocolate brown eyes looked down at you as if he could read your every single fear word by word. 

“Will you have a small ice cream date with me? Just say yes or no.” 

Your heart thumped inside your chest. Date? Why was he calling that a date? Why… 

“Yes.” you replied, taking a leap of fate. 

“Good and call me Tae. My friends don’t call me by my full name.” he smiled, taking your breath away. 

Friend? You were his friend? 

“Okay.” you nodded. 

And that’s how it started. 

The one ice cream date became several, then turned into real dinners over office gossip. His Texts started flooding your phone soon as well, which turned into calls and then weekend grocery shopping. 

After a really long time you were experiencing a new friendship bloom in your territory. It felt nice, it felt good - although your brain sent you red alerts each time your heart expanded twice the size under Taehyung’s gaze. 

It was a crush. It was just a crush, it will go away in time, you told yourself again and again. Even though Taehyung’s place in your life started being way too vast to calibrate. 

Fast forward to now, ten months later - Taehyung and you are good friends. 

While he is friends with every other employee of your workplace, you know you hold a special place amid everyone. The knowledge always warms you up from inside. But you try to keep yourself humble. You try not to think that there’s a chance of your feelings being reciprocated. 

You try not to ponder upon the chances of Taehyung liking you back no matter how much he seems to like teasing you, harmlessly flirting with you. 

“Y/N-ssi?” one of your colleagues knocks down on your cubicle, “are you a bit free right now?” 

You, being mostly done with your work, look up and nod a yes at him. 

“Can you please copy these papers then? I need to sort some documents out and if I leave for copying now, I will be late for the meeting. Please do me this favor.” he pleads. This colleague is one of those very few people who are almost like you - not in anyone’s business. And you are more than happy to help him out. 

“Sure, Jaehyun-ssi. Just give me five minutes.” taking the papers from him, you stand up. 

“Thank you!” he bows at you as you walk towards the copy room lazily. 

The copy room is just beside the breakroom, you will have to walk past the breakroom to reach your destination. Just as you start nearing the breakroom, you hear giggles and laughter coming from it. And if you are not hearing things then one of those voices is Taehyung’s.

“But Taehyung-ssi is really the MVP, he managed to befriend the most antisocial person of the entire floor.” your feet stop as you hear Yuna, one of those who circle around Taehyung’s periphery, speak in a teasing tone. 

They are talking about you, you have no doubt about that. 

“Eh? Who are you talking about?” Taehyung almost whines. 

“The programming genius Y/N, who else!” she replies. 

“Yes, you two have been eating a lot of ice creams these days, huh? Are those dates?” another one from the group butts in with his own curiosity. 

“Dates? Me and Y/N? Are you guys insane?” Taehyung laughs out loud. His voice booms through the open glass door of the breakroom. You watch his translucent reflection on the door, the distortion of his expression is visible. 

Your heart stops beating for a moment, as your brain has to take a bit of time to analyze whatever data it was receiving is real or not. 

This is really happening. Taehyung is actually not interested in you that way - which is fine. You can take the rejection. But why is he talking about you like that? Like seeing you under a romantic light is wrong? Scandalous? 

“Those were not dates? Then what are you two? Best friends?” Yuna teases him again. 

“Nope. Not even close. I only befriended her because I felt pity for her being an outcast. There’s no other special reason. She is a bit awkward, I’d say. Not bad but definitely not someone I would date or be best friends with.” Taehyung shrugs, breaking your heart in pieces. 

All of the time you thought you two were close, was nothing but a pity party for Taehyung? Your and his friendship was a charity case? 

You have been living in a delusion. Thinking that someone as popular as Taehyung would be interested in you was a delusion for sure. You stand there, every other sound ebbs away, only the loud cacophony of Taehyung’s words remain. You forget what you were doing, what you are about to do and how to function all together. 

You really are nothing but an amusement to him? Just someone to make fun of? Ten months of friendship was a lie? A complete lie? 

But not anymore. You have to come out of the temporary comfortable lie you put yourself in. you have to go back to your previous state - an outcast with no friends and honestly that is way better than having fake people around you. 

Walking towards the copy room, you do your job. If a few tears make their way out of your eyes - no one needs to know about that. 

Kim Taehyung (18:13 pm): Hiiiieee, Y/N! I am going out to drink with my teammates. Can’t walk you to the subway station today.  Kim Taehyung (18:13 pm): Sorry, sweetheart! See you tomorrow? At the farmer’s market?  You (18:15 pm): I have some important stuff to take care of tomorrow, can’t go to the market. Kim Taehyung (18:16 pm): Oh? Okay. See you on Monday then? 

You slip your phone in your pocket upon reading the reply. Usually you would send an emoji or a  simple ‘okay’ to finish the conversation, but now that you know the truth, you don’t want to interact anymore with him. 

As you walk yourself towards the station, you wonder where things went wrong with you? Why does everyone misunderstand you so much? Just because you are introverted and generally don’t do good with people, does not mean you are to be pitied. 

Your vision blur yet again. 

You are really a fool. Why did you even entertain the thought of Taehyung wanting to be your friend genuinely? 

Why did you even… 

Sunday  

Kim Taehyung (11:11 am): Y/N!!!! I am bored. Let's have launch together. 

You stare at the screen for a few seconds before a scoff makes its way out of your mouth. Why is he faking so hard? There’s no one from work to see how kind he is being towards a supposedly outcast, then why? Why is he acting like he cares? 

You (11:14 am): I am meeting my parents today.  Kim Taehyung (11:15 am): Really? You seem too busy for me these days.  You (11:16 am): Yes. I gotta go. Bye.

Monday  

“Good morning, beautiful.” Taehyung greets you enthusiastically as you step into the elevator. 

“Morning.” you reply, not quite looking at him. But from the reflection on the door you can see his smile dimming. 

Thankfully the elevator is too crowded for him to start questioning you already. And you purposefully push yourself on the opposite side of him, making sure you are completely out of his sight. 

When your floor arrives and you start walking out alongside others, you see him coming towards you from your peripheral. Increasing your pace, you almost run towards your department even before he has the chance of calling your name. 

Tuesday 

Eating lunch at the office is just another mundane task for you, although for the bigger part of the crowd it’s like a comic relief. Most of the days you eat alone, on the single seats beside the large windows. On days when those seats would be taken, you would find Taehyung and sit with him instead. Even though he mostly eats with his team members, he would never hesitate to change his seat for you. And maybe those kinds of actions were what made you delusional about your place in his life. 

As you fill your plate with food and turn towards the window seats, you see that one empty spot that you eyed upon coming in, is now gone. With a sigh, you turn towards the seating area. There’s hardly any unoccupied space. A few chairs are empty, those are just the spare ones for the big group. Your anxiety reaches through the roof at the thought of having to share a table with those people. 

With a gulp, you start walking towards the end of the room. 

“Y/N! Here!” a boisterous voice echoed through the cacophony. You turn your head to look for the source and obviously, it’s Taehyung, wildly swinging his hands to gain his attention. As you look at him, he gestures to you to come and sit beside him. You only smile and nod your head in negative. And then without wasting any more time, you walk towards the back of the room and sit beside a group of interns. 

You don’t look at the direction of Taehyung’s table for the whole time you eat. If there’s a small bad feeling twitching in your gut, you suppress it by reminding you what kind of stuff he said about you behind your back. 

Wednesday 

“Hey” the knock disrupts the process of your thinking. You look up and Taehyung’s face comes into your view. The pain that you are trying to forgo, starts flooding in your bloodstream right away. He is so beautiful, so handsome - why.. Why does he have to be an asshole to you? If he was unkind to you, it would be better. But why did he have to pretend to like you? 

“Yes?” You keep your voice cold, sweeping emotions under the rug. 

Taehyung’s smile dim, “I- uh- just wanted to ask you if your review is ready. We have a client meeting after lunch.” 

“I have mailed you in the morning itself. If you haven’t received it yet, I can send it to you again. Also, you could have knocked me on the chat, there was no need to come all the way here.” you look down on your screen again, trying not to react to the drop on his expression at your curt reply. 

“I-” he starts to say something, but your phone starts vibrating right then. 

“Sorry, I have to take this.” giving him a tight-lipped smile, you take your phone and walk towards the window to receive the call, which is most definitely a spam. 

When you return to your desk, Taehyung is already gone. Sighing out of relief, you go back to work. 

Thursday

Having very few people in your life, you have never had the trouble of avoiding someone intentionally up until now and hence, you had no idea how exhausting it is. Honestly, you don't know for how long you can keep it going. It's not even your fault and you have no reason to hide away like this. 

Thankfully, Taehyung stays out at a networking event for the better part of Thursday. You see him only at the main lobby of the building. He smiles as soon as your face comes to his view. You return the courtesy by half-bowing to him while walking out of the door. Maybe if he tries to talk to you tomorrow, you will let him know you're aware of his true feelings, so he can stop pretending and you can stop this game of avoiding him. 

With a sigh you shut your eyes and walk towards the subway station under the moonlight. 

Friday

Kim Taehyung (4:37 pm): Y/N, you remember today is our ice cream day, right? Will be waiting for you at the parking! See ya!  You (4:44 pm): Sorry Taehyung, not in the mood today. Kim Taehyung (4:45 pm): What? Why? This is the second time you're cancelling plans with me. Is everything okay? Are we okay? 

You stare at the text for a few minutes before deciding on a reply. 

You (4:47 pm): We need to talk. See you at the parking. 

Inhaling a sharp breath you shut your phone off. Today is the day… Yes, no matter how hard it is for you to confront people, today you will have to do it, for once and for all. 

You knock on the car window. Taehyung rolls down the glass and opens the door with a smile. Even a week ago, this same smile on his face would light up your day but these days you keep wondering if they are really just fake. 

His smile dims once you don't smile back and just choose to sit inside the car without any greetings. 

“You have been ignoring me for this whole week.” He starts, “from cancelling plans to barely looking at me… what is it, Y/N? Did I do something to upset you?” 

Upset? You can't even begin to explain how your trust got damaged because of him. 

“I started liking you at some point, Taehyung. Romantically, I mean.” You sigh, feeling so silly of yourself. 

“Oh” the pitch of his voice changes all of a sudden. 

“And I had the audacity to think you feel something similar towards me.” A scoff comes out of your throat. 

“Y/N…” 

“But I know better now. I know that this friendship - oh, it's not even a friendship for you, right? It's just that you pity me and I'm awkward and you can't even think of dating or being friends with someone like me.” You smile at him, although tears start threatening to spill out of your eyes at any given moment. 

“Y/N…” Taehyung calls your name again but this time you can see the horror in his eyes clearly. “Did you…”

“Yes, I heard your and your real friends’ conversations accidentally. And came to the conclusion of not bothering you with my awkward presence anymore. So yeah, that's it. There's no reason to keep in contact with me unless it's about work. There's no need to pretend or be friends with me out of pity. Let's just be colleagues, I'll appreciate that.” With another tight-lipped smile, you grab the car door and open it, ready to get out of this car, this mess. 

Taehyung holds you by your wrist, “Y/N, listen to me, I- I’m so-” 

“There's no need to apologise, Taehyung. I have nothing to forgive you for. I'm angry with myself actually, not with you. I thought you would be genuinely interested in me all while I should have known better.” You shrug, “as I said earlier, I wouldn't like to have anything personal with you anymore. So please… leave my hand and let me go.” 

Taehyung gulps, but he keeps your request and lets go of your wrist. Once you start walking, you don't look back. 

From this moment, Taehyung is nothing but a good dream in your life. And you will do your best to forget that he was ever close to you. 

Taehyung feels like shit. 

Even calling this self-loathing as shit is not justified. He feels like he should dig his own grave and lie down inside the cold soil and let the earth swallow him as whole. 

He watches you vanishing amid the maze of cars. His heart has started to act abnormal again, it is beating hard, but not in the usual fluttering kind.  

His heart is now beating in panic and he does not know what is the source of this kind of feeling - if he is afraid of you being the bearer of his bad reputation or of losing you as a friend. 

When Taehyung said he befriended you out of pity, he didn’t exaggerate. He and his circle has always been pretty popular - be it school or university or office - he has always been one of the stars of any place he has ever graced with his presence. 

And you, by the first look at you, he could tell, you are the exact opposite. His suspicion was confirmed when he observed how you avoided everyone else in whatever room you were, and how everyone else avoided you just as much. You didn’t look affected at all, you didn’t look like you had the need of attending to anyone’s attention, which amused Taehyung beyond imagination.

He wanted to see if you behaved the same with you, if you could stay reluctant to him and his charms, if you could avoid his advances just like you avoid the rest of the world. 

When he gave himself the challenge, he didn’t actually expect the friendship to bloom and last for as long as it did. 

And he definitely didn’t expect to like your company as much as he does. 

You are awkward, yes, you don’t make eye contact with him, you don’t respond to his flirtatious comments, you don’t know how to take compliments but if anything, all these quirks make you even more endearing. 

So, now as he sits in his car and processes everything that happened one by one, he feels three things - one, he is incredibly angry with himself. He should have been more careful with his words! Especially when he knows you work on the same damn floor. Two, how can he be so insensitive towards someone like an obnoxious piece of shit? Is popularity really getting inside his head? That too during his big adult years? Three, why does he feel this sudden sink in his heart at the thought of losing your friendship? Your presence from his life? 

Shutting his eyes tight, he grips the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles go white. No! He can’t let his immaculate reputation scar like this! He can’t! 

He needs to do something about it. 

He needs to. 

In hindsight making things right with you seemed easier. 

But as soon as Taehyung steps on the ground with determination, he feels lost. Speaking is a far-fetched thought, you don’t even so much so spare a glance at him unless it’s absolutely professionally required. 

And hence, Taehyung, for some very obvious reasons, has not been brave enough to approach you and apologize yet. But he has been trying. He has been preparing a long apology speech that he looks forward to delivering to you during the annual office party next Friday. Till then, he should probably leave you alone. 

He has hurt you enough. It’s better to wait than offering you an premature apology which might end up doing more damage than good. 

It’s that day that you despise with all of your will - the annual party day. 

While everyone else is just on the seventh heaven with the anticipation and the excitement of dressing up and impressing their work crushes - you would be grateful if you did not have to attend the party at all. But not everything is in your hands, you are, after all, just another employee. 

With a sigh you slip into the little black dress that you bought during your cousin’s wedding reception. It has a delicious sweetheart neck and a mid-thigh length that ends in a flair. Keeping your hair loose and make-up minimal, you set out for the evening. 

There’s only one agenda for the night - avoiding Taehyung at any cost. No matter how handsome he looks, how charismatic he becomes, you need to avoid him at all cost. You can not, just can not let your eyes wander towards him. 

How nice it would be if you had at least one friend at your workplace. Avoiding Taehyung wouldn’t be a great deal then.   

But sigh… since you are alone in this, you will have to deal with this mess alone as well. 

It’s the same old ritual all over. 

Office parties mean nothing more than just a couple of overworked people letting it all out for one night. And the best thing about all of it is that - you are not the one to gain much attention. You can attend, show your face and then leave whenever you want. 

Most of the folks are scattered around the place - eating, drinking, mingling. Some are already on the dance floor even though the best dance songs are always kept for the last couple of hours.  

Everyone looks so different in colorful, sexy dresses that are completely disparate from their office outfits. You know you look different as well, especially because you witnessed a few people checking you out already, even though you didn’t pay much mind to any of them. 

Gabbing a glass of champagne, you walk towards the emptiest corner of the hall. The music blasting from the massive speaker, gets you into some kind of feeling. As you bob your head to the beats and watch your colleagues having fun, your eyes meet with Taehyung. 

He is standing at the bar counter wearing a pair of black leather pants, black tight tshirt and a very red bomber jacket. 

He looks like he is ready to grace a fashion photoshoot. Averting your eyes from him, you look down on your drink. There’s no way he would be looking at you tonight. And if he is then maybe that is just to make fun of you with his friends later on. 

“Hey, hi.” the voice comes from beside you. Moving your eyes from the drink you look for the owner of such a sweet, familiar yet hard-to-put-a-name-on voice. And as soon as your eyes fall on the owner, you lose your breath instantly.   

“Mr. Kim.” bowing almost ninety degrees, you greet the managing director and son of the chairman of your company, Kim Seokjin. 

“Please, Y/N-ssi, you don’t have to be so formal with me.” he says sweetly. This man is the kind of beauty poets write sonnets about. From his immaculate face to his wide shoulders and lean waist - he is just breathtaking. If he wasn’t the soon to be chairman himself, so many of your colleagues would try to throw themselves at him. 

He is not someone you people get to see very often but whenever he is visiting, he spoils every single worker with free coffee or snacks. You have met him only a few times during very important meetings, so him knowing your name is a very good surprise for you. 

“Are you enjoying the party?” he asks as you straighten up and offer him a smile with your pursed lips.  

“It’s not really my thing.” Something in Seokjin’s relaxed body language and beautiful smile tells you that you can be honest with him. 

“You know what?” Seokjin’s smile widens as he leans down to come to your ear level and says, “same pinch. I hate parties.” 

Both of you break in a little laughter. And even before you notice, you stop staring at your colleagues having fun with each other. Kim Seokjin knows how to keep a conversation going and soon enough you two are talking about games. 

You didn’t know he loves playing games as much as you do, if not more. The conversation takes a more fun turn and the world around you dissolves into nothing but a ball of white noise.  

“Can I ask you something?” you ask him at some point, too curious all of a sudden. 

“Sure. please ask me anything without any hesitation.” he sips on his drink. 

“How did you know my name?” you look up at him, waiting for him to satiate your curiosity. 

Seokjin looks down at you, a frown sits on his beautiful face, “we attended a couple of meetings together.” 

“Yes, I know but a ton of others did too. I doubt if you recall everyone.” you shrug. 

“Well I don’t and I am actually very bad with names. But you stood out remarkably, I remember you stating the privacy risks clearly and strictly saying you won’t work on the project if we don’t ensure end-to-end encryption.” he informs, with a glint in his eyes, “how can I forget someone like you?” 

The back of your neck warms up with his persistent gaze on you. You nod, looking away from him. 

“And if you don’t mind me crossing the professional threshold then, I would like to know more about you.” Seokjin prompts softly. You almost choke on your drink. 

Taehyung has been looking for you ever since the moment he stepped in the hall. His eyes are always on the look out and he has been monitoring every corner of the room, because that is where you would be found for most of the networking events, he doubts if the annual party is anything different.  

Some of his friends slash colleagues have been distracting him from his search every now and then but he has been alert. Raking his eyes through the crowd for another time, he finds you and as expected, you are standing at a corner. 

Taehyung’s jaw falls a little ajar as he takes a good look at you. You are looking absolutely gorgeous. The baggy clothes and formal office wear that you usually wear hides the tantalizing part of your body. 

The little black dress that you are wearing today hugs all of your curves, enhancing your beauty like never before. The light makeup and loose hair is doing their job just as perfectly. 

Shit - have you always been this good looking? 

Your eyes come to rest at his right when he is in the middle of checking you out. For a moment, you stare back at him but then quickly look away. Inhaling a long strip of oxygen, Taehyung takes a step towards you. 

He will have to talk to you tonight. But just when he is about to take another step, he sees someone else approaching you. And that someone else is the Managing Director of the company, Kim Seokjin. 

Kim Taehyung is usually a patient human being, but tonight it seems like heaven is tasting every bit of his self-control.

What he thought as a small introduction, is now a full blown chitchat session. Seokjin hasn’t moved an inch from your side and it has been what? Three hours already? His blood is boiling with each and every glance he takes at you and Seokjin. What the hell are you two talking about? That too for so long and so much? You never talked to him like that. He was the one to initiate most of the conversation and you would join. Then what is it about Seokjin that is making you talk so much? Making you look at him with big, curious eyes? In a way you hardly ever looked at him? 

He gulps down the rest of the drink that was sitting ideally in his glass. You and your very new friend are currently at the buffet, still talking and giggling about who knows what. He is waiting for you to come back so that he can finally steal you, even if for a few minutes.

A couple of minutes later, he sees you and Seokjin emerging from the buffet room. Without wasting a second, he starts walking towards you. 

“Y/N,” his voice is loud enough for you to hear, you turn your head to look at him and your jolly expressions dull right away.  

“Yes?” you question as if you don’t even know who he is. Seokjin looks at him and bows a little, he bows back out of courtesy. 

“Can I talk to you, please?” Taehyung returns his full attention to you. 

You shut your eyes and think for a moment. “Okay, but make it quick.” your voice tells how uninterested you are in him. 

“I will be back.” These words are directed towards Seokjin accompanied by one of your sweet smiles. Taehyung grits his teeth inside his closed mouth. 

The man smiles back at you, “sure. I will be here.” 

Nodding at him, you start walking towards the stairwell, Taehyung blindly follows you behind. 

“Can’t you please forgive me? I- I am really regretting my choice of words, Y/N. I really am.” Taehyung’s eyes are filled with tears at this point. It’s the alcohol that’s making him uncharacteristically emotional. 

“Who am I to forgive you, Taehyung?” you scoff, “I was never even your friend to begin with. If you are worried about me spilling the tea, then you can be assured. No matter how much of a charity case I was, I am sure you know that spreading gossip is not my thing. So yeah.. You don’t have to worry, neither do you have to ask for my forgiveness.” you try to move away, grab the doorknob to enter the hall again, but Taehyung is quick on his feet. He pushes the door shut and crowds you with his figure. 

“What are you doing?” 

“You said you liked me, if that’s true, how can you be so… so reluctant about me? How can you change like that?” Taehyung places his question. 

“I liked you because I thought you were different from these people. But I was wrong, you are actually worse. Now please let me go. I don’t understand why you are behaving so desperately when you don’t even think of me as a friend!” you try to move away again. 

Taehyung pins you to the door and pushes it close for a second time, “I realized my mistake, Y/N. I have been suffering from that day. I have… I have misjudged my own feelings. Please.. Give me another chance. I will be a better friend… I promise.” 

“Kindly just let me go. I don’t have anything to do with you anymore.” you try to push him away and just then, a knock rings on the door. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” It's Seokjin again. 

You push Taehyung away and open the door, “Mr. Kim, yeah I am okay.” 

Seokjin eyes Taehyung suspiciously, before looking down at you, “do you want to leave? I will drop you home.” 

“Yeah, that will be really cool.” you smile at him and walk out of the stairwell without even glancing back at him for once. Taehyung feels something breaking in his chest. If he is not wrong then it’s his heart.

Why is he aching like this? This was never supposed to end like this? In his heartbreak? 

As the door shuts behind your back, casting you out of his life - he realizes he is the outcast now. He is the outcast in your orbit.

They say it right, you only know what you had once you lose it completely. 

He lost a friend, a true one and maybe something more - something he is not ready to admit just yet. 

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as self-centred as soojin is, she would give Jungkook her whole entire world, she'd give up anything and everything for him if he'd ask. chloe, as a petite as she is, would move mountains if it meant getting into his heart. maya, as confident as she is would change her way of living if it meant pleasing him. actually every single old love interest in his life would orbit around his axis if he wanted them to. but they were not really love interests to Jungkook. no, they were merely distractions. distractions from the woman who could own him in any way possible. the one woman he longs for with such desperation. the woman he's obsessed with in a way he should understand is unhealthy.

you. his beautiful, smart, sexy, perfect woman. you're not officially his yet, but he needs you to be or else he'll probably lose his mind.

Jungkook's life would be so euphoric if only you felt the same way he did. but you don't and just thinking about it is enough to depress Jungkook. he has it all – the looks, the confidence, the figure, the money. so why can't you just like him as much as he likes you? not to say he doesn't work for your love. he does. he works so fucking hard for it, without trying to embarrass himself too much, of course.

he does various things, trying to prove it to you, obvious actions that practically sing about how much he wants you. but you just can't seem to get the hint, can you? or maybe Jungkook's current worst fear is true. you know how he feels but you just don't care. that thought causes Jungkook's heart to tighten in his chest. he likes the first option, so that is the one he chooses to believe. as ignorant as Jungkook is, the intellectual part of him questions it. how can you not know how he feels for you when he does everything a guy in love would do? for a few examples, he cares for your likes and ambitions, he changes his busy schedules just to accommodate yours, he takes care of you when you're sick, he's constantly checking up on you when you aren't with him, he buys you flowers and chocolates. he makes the best love* to you, just like he is right now…

Jungkook grunts through gritted teeth as he thrusts as deep as humanly possible into you, hitting the perfect spot inside you that makes you let out a breathless, high moan of his name. the sweet sound you've made under him only motivates him to do it again and again. Jungkook thrusts his massive cock into your pussy, keeping his pace fast, hard and a little rough – just as you like it. your nails dig into his broad shoulders and rake down his back, causing it to sting. Jungkook groans at that, knowing it's going to leave marks on him. Jungkook loves any form of possession you show over him, he loves when you leave marks on him or tell him that he's yours. it's as if you know the power you have over him and you can see how badly you affect him.

Jungkook is one strong man, yet you have the ability to make him the weakest and most pathetic on earth. before you walked into his life, things were normal. he had gotten into short situationships, he fucked whoever he wanted, he could do whatever he wanted without you being in his every thought. but after he understood the depth of his feelings for you, things had become complicated and absurd. after a while, Jungkook could no longer live his life the way he used to. he couldn't fuck anybody else, he couldn't touch anybody else, he couldn't even bring himself to look at a woman who wasn't you. it would feel like he's cheating, cheating on you and cheating on himself – cheating on himself because you're a part of him, a big crucial necessity in his life. it shouldn't make sense, but it does to him. you're the other half of his soul, you just don't feel it like he does, as yet.

at the thought of his seemingly unrequited romantic feelings, Jungkook thrusts into you even harder than before, earning him a sweet gasp from you. he hums at the sound before watching you, your eyes are almost rolling to the back of your head and you look so heavily cock-drunk. well of course you'd be, this is the sixth? seventh round? Jungkook's hands that had been on either side of your head now move – one grips your hip, feeling your soft skin and the other goes to the back of your neck to guide your face to his, to meet him in a kiss. His kiss immediately starts off passionate, wet and filthy. you eagerly kiss him back, moaning into his mouth when his tongue slides into yours. you kiss him with equal fervour as he pounds into you so good.

you break away from the kiss, a string of saliva joining your lips to his. you keep your eyes open and on his, gazing up at him. he's sweaty and staring down at you with dark, hungry, heavy-lidded eyes. he looks so fucking hot, you're so grateful to have this beautiful man fucking the living daylights out of you, looking at you with such need. but beneath all the lust, you think that you notice something else. it looks so sincere, so precious. you think hard what it is you see there. you might have an idea, but that's just preposterous. right?

you don't dwell on that forbidden thought, since your seventh orgasm of the night is approaching. your moans become louder and you start clenching around Jungkook's cock. he thrusts become sloppy but he still keeps the animalistic pace, wanting to make sure your approaching orgasm is as good as the previous ones – maybe even better.

"f-fuck," he groans. "you feel too good, baby. always feel too good."

his praises always have your head spinning and pussy throbbing. your nails dig into his back as you mumble incoherent nonsense. you're on cloud nine, just as you usually are when Jungkook fucks you. he's the best you've ever had in bed, you wish you could be full of his cock every day and night.

"k–kook," you gasp.

"hmm?" he hums, looking at your parted lips and hazy eyes.

"gonna come." you mutter shakily.

Jungkook grips your thighs with both his hands and lifts you up a little. he finds the angle that's even deeper, making you whimper and arch up, throwing your head back into the pillows.

"yeah?" he asks before leaning down to lick your now exposed neck. "me too, baby."

you're so gone and drunk on his cock, Jungkook thinks you might finally agree to what he's been wanting to do for the longest time now – to come inside you. oh fuck, the thought of it makes Jungkook want to bust immediately. he imagines filling you up with his release, fucking it back into you, watching it drip out of your pussy. he hopes you'll finally allow it. he's feeling lucky tonight, perhaps you'll allow it since your walls are clenching so hard around his pulsing cock.

"want me to come inside, hmm?" please say yes, please say yes.

"no." you say, panting.

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, feeling bummed. but rest be assured, he will release inside you one day.

you release first, crying out his name. he thrusts inside you a few more times before pulling out and releasing over your belly with a groan. he looks at your belly messed with his come, it's not where he wishes it was but it's still so fucking hot. after he reels from his high, he collapses beside you, staring up at the ceiling for a long while. your chest heaves and your eyes threaten to close. despite your body feeling like jelly, you decide that you really have to shower. you turn toward Jungkook, placing your hand on his chest, over his racing heart and throwing your thigh over his hip. Jungkook feels warmth spread through his body at the contact. he turns to you as well, placing a hand on your hip to tug you closer.

"can we take a shower, kook?" you ask, so soft and tired.

Jungkook smiles at how cute you sound. he'll obviously take a shower with you, he's more than happy to do that.

"yeah, baby." he says before gently kissing your forehead. "we'll go soon. I'm too comfortable to move right now."

"Jungkook the sheets are wet and i have your come on me." you state, threading your fingers through his soft hair. "let's go now and we'll come back and cuddle."

Jungkook nods, happy with that deal. he helps you out of bed and picks you up, carrying you to the bathroom since you're drained and walking on very weak legs – it's understandable, he's done a number on you. inside the shower, he steps behind you and turns on the water, setting the temperature to exactly how you like it. you lean against Jungkook and sigh in contentment as the hot water washes over your sore body. the both of you spend a long time in the bathroom – washing up thoroughly and sharing heated kisses. Jungkook initiates more intimacy by reaching between your thighs, but you smack his hand away with a little laugh, telling him that any more of this would leave you rotting in bed due to the inability to walk. he pouts but respects your decision of course.

after the shower, you both change into sleep wear and cuddle just as you've said. Jungkook brings you right against his chest, holding you tightly against him while breathing you in. he feels so full of everything nice at this moment. you're where you're meant to be, safe in his arms. he wishes that all of his nights could be like this, instead of a few nights only. he does appreciate what you do give him. after all you are the woman he loves with all his heart. he yearns for you in a way that borders on madness, so he needs all of you entirely.

He and Yoomi broke up some two months before you asked him out and he was still in so much pain, possessing so much resentment towards her and himself that even thinking of another relationship was impossible. 

But your sparkling eyes and the smile that was a little too hopeful - made it impossible for him to say no. and hence, with half-a-heart he drove into this relationship. 

Namjoon knows that him still being somewhat stuck to his ex-girlfriend was not your fault, but you were the one who directly or indirectly suffered from the consequences. 

For the first two months, things were tense within his own mindspace. He was in a constant dilemma. He felt like he was cheating on you by not being 100% into the relationship, while you gave him all he could ask for and more. He knows you could tell how lacking he was, but you never said a word, only smiled at him and held his hand tighter as if to promise better days ahead. 

You are a jolly, kind, beautiful and understanding woman. As much as his knowledge spreads, he knows many of your colleagues have expressed their desires of dating you and been turned down. Standing on the same ground, he felt rather lucky. And he would have to move on from his past one day or another - so instead of spilling the truth or making things even more awkward between you and him - he tried to be better. 

He started melting soon enough. The wall that separated him from you came down brick by brick whenever your lips met his. Finally… Finally before Christmas he decided to take you out on a date and confess everything.

But maybe the universe was taking revenge for some bad deed in his past life, so it all went down with Yoomi’s sudden appearance. 

On top of everything, he called you a friend - a friend! 

Although he has no room for excuse, something happened when Yoomi came to stand before him, his tongue tied into a knot, his words fumbled - not because he was still in love or something but because there was a residue of the past left behind - something unresolved - a concrete closure. 

When you left, his head was still full of shits, too overwhelmed to measure the situation. He was slower and sloppier than usual, before he could untangle the jumbled up thoughts in his mind, you were gone. 

He went back home, sorted himself and then called you. You didn’t pick up. 

His next move was to text you but when the tiny numbers on the top left corner of his phone registered in his wit - he realized it was too late. The clock had walked past the iron gates of midnight, so he decided to contact you the next day. 

Except, you didn’t answer his texts or his call the next day as well. Although he is not a person who would panic call someone multiple times in a row - he called you eleven times that day, and each time, he was left for the same automated message to hear. 

Fear filled each corner of his heart. Instead of calling you again, he dialed his mother’s number and told her that he wouldn’t be able to visit during Christmas due to an emergency. 

So, now… instead of his parental home, he is here at your door. Ringing the bell he waits patiently. He doesn’t even know if you are home, it’s christmas eve after all. But you mentioned how you like to spend holidays by yourself, so all he can wish is for you to be inside. 

The door opens a few seconds later and you come into his view. The relief he feels upon finding you here can not be explained. You stare at him with surprise and confusion written all over your face, but thankfully you don’t look mad.

“Namjoon? You- what are you doing here?” a wave of relief courses through his veins when he hears you calling his name. He still has time… he still has enough time to make things right. 

“Can I come in, Y/N? I need to talk to you. I need to explain myself.” he places his words into a well-crafted sentence. 

“You don’t need to explain yourself, Namjoon.” you smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, “I knew. I somehow knew you weren’t into me all these months and yet-” sighing, you continue, “yet I kept forcing myself on you. I am sorry. I should have-” 

“You didn’t force yourself on me, Y/N.” Namjoon stops you before you can say another word against yourself. “Yes, yes I wasn’t ready for the relationship when you asked me out but that is not your fault. I know… I know I have been indifferent for the previous months but trust me… you never forced me into anything. I spent time with you because I wanted to, I held your hands because I wanted to, I kissed you because I wanted to. And I-” he gulps, “I started liking you. I actually started liking you.. A lot.” 

You scoff upon hearing his confession, “if you really liked me you wouldn’t hesitate to introduce me as your girlfriend to your ex, Namjoon.” 

“I didn’t hesitate. I just… the breakup was bad and both of us walked away angry from each other. I didn’t get any closure. I didn’t expect to see her all of a sudden. I didn’t expect her to hug me either. It will sound like an excuse but my mind was fogged up and I didn’t know what I was even doing.” he gulps more, “also, I texted her saying that you are my girlfriend and I don’t want to connect anymore with her.” in a haste of proving himself, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and opens Yoomi’s chat. 

“Take a look, please.” he extends that towards you. You push the phone back to himself. 

“You don’t need to prove anything to me. I just… I just don’t know if I am ready to continue anything with you again, Namjoon.” you look down at your feet. Namjoon’s heart drops to his stomach but he is not someone to go down without a fight. 

“Let’s not continue, then. Let’s start afresh and this time, let me ask you…” he inhales a long breath, “Y/N, will you go out on a date with me tomorrow? On the auspicious occasion of Christmas?” 

“You really don’t have to do this-”

Namjoon interrupts you again. This time by stepping close to you and holding one of your hands. He brings it to his lips and places a kiss on the back of your palm, “please”. If he needs to plead, he will plead. 

You seem to melt at that. Closing your eyes and sighing, you reply, “okay.” 

“See you tomorrow” Namjoon cups your cheek with one hand. 

“Yes.” you finally smile, beautiful and breathtaking. 

He is not perfect, nor can he be the best boyfriend in the world, but for you, he will be the best version of himself, right from this moment.

Kim Seokjin

Ten months are a long time. 

Long enough to know someone and fall in love with them. Long enough to dream of a life, a family and many other things. 

But to Seokjin - it was really short. And now he regrets spending that time with you having someone else in his mind. 

Although his family kind of forced him to meet you - he didn’t hate how things transpired after that. On the contrary, he liked you. He liked you enough to keep meeting you with marriage in mind. But if he is being honest, he wondered what it would be like to have Seohyun in your place on more occasions than not. 

A part of him was still so stuck on his ex-girlfriend that he couldn’t stop himself from basically leaving you behind and running to her the moment his eyes landed on her at the market. 

When Seokjin scanned for a wedding band on her finger, he saw none and then he committed one of the gravest mistakes ever. 

His motive behind introducing you as a friend was to grasp any kind of chance that still might be lingering. Knowing Seohyun well, he knew if she became aware of your real identity, she would pull herself off immediately. 

So, when she asked if he still used the same number, Seokjin felt a little less bad about lying to her. He thought about himself, he thought about Seohyun but very selfishly, he didn’t think of the person who was to be affected the most. He didn’t think about you. 

Coming back to his senses was like falling from a cliff and hitting the ground within a flash of a second. When his eyes fell on yours - you were crying. There was no anger in your eyes - just pain, hurt and a vague sense of betrayal. 

Before he could utter an useless excuse you beat him to it. 

“I will talk to my parents, Seokjin. Don’t worry.” You smiled, bowed and walked away. Although this was a conscious choice - his heart lurched painfully at the sight of your retreating back. 

Words from your parents came two days later and Seohyun’s message came a week later. 

It was a digital invitation card to her wedding ceremony. And sitting at his work desk, Seokjin felt like the biggest fool of this entire world. 

Just like the selfish prick that he is, he thought of reaching out to you. He thought of apologizing a hundred times but what excuse would he give? How would he tell you that he made that choice willingly? And how would he ask for forgiveness from you when he can’t forgive himself? 

A month passed after the incident. 

January melted into February and today as he stepped inside the church after more than a month, he saw you sitting on your usual seat beside your mother. 

Seokjin’s steps faltered. Somehow, by some heavenly force, he managed to take a seat at the farthest corner. Since then he has been waiting for the mass to finish, so that he can talk to you.  He has no idea what he is going to say, what kind of words he should use to apologize to you - he knows nothing, nothing at all. But he needs to talk to you. He needs to talk to you. 

“Y/N” your name feels rough on the surface of his tongue - maybe out of guilt and regret. 

You stop on your way out of the gate, so does your mother. She moves on her heels slowly and as soon as she spots Seokjin, her eyes start sparking in a way those should not. 

He broke her daughter’s heart. But then…

“Seokjinie!” she almost screams, “You are here. Oh my god.. I should- I am so sorry on behalf of Y/N. She called off the wedding but won’t tell me why. Omo- I am rambling again. You two should talk.” she almost runs away without wasting another second. 

A cold wave washes all over Seokjin’s wit. You not only set him free but also kept the reason a secret…? And he… he lost you? A gem like you? 

As soon as your mother is out of the scene, he walks slowly closer to you. You still have your back turned towards him, so he calls your name again. 

This time you turn to face him. There’s a smile on your lips that doesn’t look fake at all. 

“Hey… how are you?” you ask. 

“I am fine. You?” his voice barely comes out of his throat. 

“Absolutely great.” you are not lying for sure. Your face is glowing in a way, which is only possible when a person is happy from within. “What about the marriage? When are you and your girlfriend getting married?” 

Your question stills his heart for a moment, “I- uh- she got married in January. She asked for my number to send me the invitation.” 

“Oh… I see.” your expression dims for a moment before you smile again. 

“Y/N” he takes another step closer to you, “I am extremely sorry for what I did that day. I have no excuse. It was… just the biggest mistake of my life.” 

“It’s okay, Seokjin. Everything happens for a reason and I believe whatever happened that night was because we were not meant to be together for long.” You shrug casually.

“Can you please forgive me and give me another chance?” he is ready to plead, going down on his knees if you ask him to. 

“I have forgiven you long ago. But about that second chance…” you sigh, “I am not looking forward to marraige or any kind of romantic relationship anytime soon, Seokjin. For now I want to choose myself and live as much as I can. I hope you can understand.” 

Seokjin understands. He does. But his heart still bleeds. It still breaks as you turn him down although it’s his fault.  

“Yeah.. yeah I do. I do.” he takes a step away. 

“Bye, Seokjin. See you again then.” you wave, walking away from him. 

“Bye.” he waves back. 

And for a second time he watches your retreating back with a promise of never meeting again. 

The first time the choice was his. The second time the choice was yours.

Min Yoongi

To tell you the truth, Yoongi didn’t even think he would dare to fall in love again, he would dare to pursue another relationship after what happened with Soori. 

During the middle of their third year together, Soori was diagnosed with cancer and she had left very little time to live. When she left for Germany to get treated with whatever hope was remaining for her, she made Yoongi promise to never look for her or ask anyone what happened to her. She broke up with him and asked him to continue a normal life. 

The chances of her survival were so low that everyone around her believed that it was the end. Hence, finding Soori at the Christmas market was nothing short of a miracle to Yoongi. He couldn’t believe she was alive - blood and flesh - not some weird AI machine, standing in front of him and calling him by his name just like she did some six-seven years ago. 

Being enveloped with emotions and feelings and sadness and joy - he made some bad choices, he said some things he regretted later on. 

You are not his friend. You are the person he is in love with. You are the person who managed to knock all his walls down and entered his life like a ray of sunshine. 

He knows well, if he told this truth to Soori - she would be rather happy. But at that moment of haze, the right words were rather lost. As soon as he came down from the high, he knew the gravity of the mistakes he had made. 

Yes! Yes, he never actually wanted to move on from Soori but he did and now he has you and he has treated you like a shit before his ex-girlfriend. 

He came clean to soori when he got a place to sit and catch up with her, and now he is on the way to your apartment. 

He has picked up some Christmas themed macrons from your favorite bakery on his way. It’s not a bribe but a token of apology. Although he has no idea if you will even consider hearing what he has to say. 

He chooses to press on the doorbell despite knowing your doorcode all too well.  

Your apartment door swings open less than a minute later. Your eyes are glued on him in a way that tells of your confusion. 

“You?” you ask as if him showing up to your apartment is the 8th wonder of the world. 

“Yeah. me. Can I come in?” tilting his head he waits for an answer. 

Nodding, you open the door wider and let him enter. He notices how your eyes are red and your face looks as if it was just washed. 

You have been crying. Fuck! He made you cry! What should have been a fun Christmas date ended with him making you cry like the worst boyfriend he is. 

Placing the packet of macrons on the coffee table he rounds on his heels and walks closer to where you are standing behind him. He reaches for your hand and takes one of them in his. You seem to startle with the sudden contact, but manage your expressions to go back to normal. 

“Y/N” Yoongi starts, “I am sorry for what happened at the market earlier. My intention was not to hurt you or hide your identity. But seeing Soori after believing she was no more… was a shock and I lost control over my tongue. I know-” he gulps, “I know it’s not an excuse but I don’t know what else to say. I just- it hurts to think of what I did. I am sorry. Punish me all you want but please… Please don’t leave me.” even voicing these words are extremely painful, he doesn’t know what he would do if you really leave him. He can’t blame you, he will understand but that will not decrease the intensity of the pain he will have to go through afterwards. 

“You said- you said you didn’t want to mo-move on from her.” tears rain down your cheeks and it sends a fresh course of pain running through his veins. 

“Yes. That is not a lie.” Yoongi cups your cheeks and starts wiping your tears with his thumb, “I didn’t want to move on but then you came into my life. You are inevitable, Y/N. You managed to make someone as closed off as me fall head over heels for you.” 

Some of the pain reflecting through your eyes ease at his words, “but.. But her?” 

“It was an unresolved past. I didn’t want to talk about her because I always found how someone so young and bright like Soori had to fall victim to fate and how she didn’t want me to be a part of her journey. But that was resolved today. I am happy for her. But that doesn’t mean I will have to start seeing her again. And I told her about us. She was super happy and also punched me for calling you a friend.” Yoongi smiles down at you. 

You start crying again, but this time by hiding your face in his chest, “I thought I lost you.” 

“I thought that too. I thought you were not going to forgive me.” 

“How can I not? It hasn’t even been two hours since that happened and you are already here, that too, with macrons!” 

Yoongi giggles at your innocence, “I know I never said it out loud but Y/N… I love you. I love you so much.” 

Detaching your face from his chest, you look up at him, “I love you too, Yoongi.” 

Yoongi leans down, sealing his lips with you like a promise of never letting you go. You kiss him back, putting a stamp on the same. 

The promise of forever. 

Jung Hoseok

This would not be happening if Hoseok gave you some context. 

He is a bad boyfriend. A bad boyfriend who spends most of the year overseas and hardly gets to manage time for his girlfriend - you - but that doesn’t mean he is the worst one ever. 

He is not an arrogant, selfish prick who would introduce his current girlfriend as a friend to his ex. He did that because he had a reason. 

Son Sejin might look like a harmless human being but she had made Hoseok’s life into a living hell for the months he dated her. Being a control freak, she tried to meddle into every possible aspect of Hoseok’s life. Where he is going, whom he is meeting, what he is eating, which hotel he is staying at - she demanded every single detail. 

Just because she had an exclusive contract with his brand - he just couldn’t call quits. He loves his brand and wants to keep it free from any kind of controversies and hence, he waited for a year for the contract to end. As soon as the time frame was over, he called Sejin and broke up with her. 

She threw tantrums, tried to threaten him but he had reached out to her agency and asked them to keep her under check or he would have to come back with a resistant order against her. 

That worked like magic. Sejin was successful and she had multiple different contracts lining up for her. So, getting court involved would only end up in losses. 

Her agency acted wisely and the relationship ended without any further mess. 

However, that didn’t mean she didn’t reach out to him every now and then. He just never replied. 

Now coming back to the present - he is the happiest he has ever been. You are not just pretty and charming - but also an incredible human being. Everyone he has ever dated before either used him to climb ladders or to look good before others. 

But you are genuine. There are certain lines you never crossed, as if you are cautious about his comfort zone as much as you are about yours. You are wise, not demanding, understanding of boundaries and just insanely attractive. 

It has only been eight months and he is already head over heels for you. He would do anything to protect you and his relationship from all the evils of this world.

And that’s exactly why he introduced you as a friend before Sejin. 

He didn’t know how she would react if she got to know what you actually are to him. What if she goes behind you, tries to harm you or something? That was all he could think of when Sejin asked who you were. 

And hence, the drama ensued. 

You handed him the thangulu, said those sharp, painful  words and then ran away somewhere. Before he could make out what was happening, you were already gone. 

By the time Hoseok found his strength back on his legs - you had completely disappeared within the crowd. But he didn’t waste anymore time. He started running towards the direction you walked away and searched every bench, every nook, every possible shade you could be at. It has been some ten minutes since he is looking for you and he has started feeling disheartened just a little. 

He walks inside a more secluded road, lined with snow and benches decorated with fairy lights. Pulling his phone from his pocket he is about to dial your number but then he hears a sniffle. He turns his head right and sees a figure sitting on a bench under a broken street light. With quick steps he reaches closer to the bench. 

“Y/N?” he calls for you. The sniffle stops. He refocuses his gaze and yes… it’s you indeed. 

Without saying anything more he sits down beside you. Although he doesn’t look at you, he can see from his peripheral vision that you are wiping your tears with your sleeves. 

“I am sorry. I made you cry. Will you give me a chance to explain myself?” Hoseok utters the words quietly and carefully. It would kill him if he hurts you again. 

“Go on.” your reply comes. 

“You have been working for the company for a long time now so you might know how abrupt my and Sejin’s break up was, right?” His words seem to gain your attention properly. You sit straighter. 

“Yes.” That's all you offer. 

“That was because Sejin is nothing less than a stalker, Y/N. I had to threaten her with a resistant order for keeping her away from me. For the most part it worked but she still sends me messages and stuff at times. I never replied to her.” he sighs, “I was afraid. I was afraid she might do something to you if she gets to know about our relationship and that is the sole reason why I hid you behind the identity of a friend. It’s not- I am not embarrassed, never was, never will be. If anything, I am so proud of us that I want to scream and let the world know that you are mine. I… I am sorry. I am sorry that I-” 

“No!” you cut him off. Turning towards him completely, you place your hand on his. Hoseok interlaces five pairs of fingers immediately, “It’s not your fault. I- I should have given you a chance to explain before storming off like this. You never gave me a reason to doubt you. Even during your busiest days you make sure to call me at least once. I don’t know what got to me. I just… I am so sorry-” 

Before you can continue any further, Hoseok places his lips on yours. His unoccupied hand goes behind your neck to pull you more into the kiss. 

“No more sorrys.” he whispers into the kiss. 

“How about I love you, then?” you detach your lips from his. 

His heart skips a beat as he looks at you - why are you so fucking beautiful oh god!? 

“That will be nice.” he replies, “I love you so much.” 

“I love you more.” you peck him. 

He returns the courtesy by pecking every possible corner he could reach on your face. He would be such a fool to lose someone as precious as you. If he has to fight with the world for that - so be it.

Park Jimin

Park Jimin has never felt regretful before. 

But he has been regretting all his life choices ever since he made the grave mistake of introducing you as a friend to his ex. 

Now, most readers must be thinking his regrets come from your cold shoulder or silent treatment but that is definitely not the case. He is regretting because you have not stopped teasing him despite the mistake being two months old now. Rather, you have turned it into some kind of an urban legend, have spread it among mutual friends and now it has become an inside joke, one that embarrasses him endlessly. However, he is incredibly thankful. The mistake was pretty serious, anyone else would have given him a hard time over such a slip of tongue. 

But you are one of a kind. You are playful yet not unreasonably so. You are understanding but not overwhelmingly so.

In other words, you are just perfect for him and with the speed he is falling for you, he is sure the day is not too far when he gets to introduce you as his fiance to his exes. 

He has never been the one to think about getting married, having a family and loving a single person for his whole life. But now as he stares at you while you cut the apples and place those neatly on the fruit bowl to make some fruit salad - he is sure, he can see himself getting there. 

“Let’s get married.” he thinks out loud. He watches you coming to a sudden stop and then slowly looking up at him with a horrified expression and then saying something completely out of the box, “why? Do you wanna compete with Junghwa?” 

Jimin groans and you break into a loud laughter. You are still laughing your ass off when Jimin closes whatever distance was remaining between you two and pins you against the kitchen counter. 

“I am serious. I want to- I- I want to spend my life with you.” He stares straight into your eyes, trying to convey how serious he is. 

Your laughter dims but it doesn’t vanish. 

“Why?” you simply ask. 

“Because… Because I am in love with you.” and that does the trick. The smile vanishes from your face. Your eyes start sparkling with something akin to hope. 

“Are you sure?” 

“More than I have ever been?” 

“Then… you are not going to call me friend in front of your exes from now on, right?” and you are back teasing him. 

“Oh god! No!” Jimin closes his eyes. 

“Great. Because I am in love with you too and I don’t think I would be able to handle that as lightly as I did last time.” you confess. 

Jimin’s eyes open to find you staring at him with a starstruck look. He doesn’t waste another second in cupping your cheeks and placing his lips on yours. 

“We are making it official, right?” he asks in between the kisses. 

“Hell, yeah!” you reply. He feels your smile against his lips. 

Park Jimin has never felt happier before.

And right now he is the happiest person on earth.

Kim Taehyung

There’s a saying that goes something like, “choose the one who chooses you.” 

Taehyung thinks that is applicable in terms of love and relationship as well. He should have chosen the one who chose him. He should have loved the one who had loved him without expecting anything in return. 

His relationship with Eun Ha was more or less heavier on his side. She never loved him as he expected her to. When two years came to a sudden end, he grasped any possible methods to survive through the immense amount of pain that the break up inflicted upon him. 

He started drinking even though he never once liked how alcohol tested on his tongue. He started seeing random people even though he never liked the idea of a situationship. 

So, him accepting you was not a big deal. You were one of his longest friends - the quiet and shy type and the idea of seeing you didn’t seem too bad to his alcohol induced mind. 

When he said yes to your proposition, he was pretty drunk. And hence, he forgot a very crucial detail about you - you have been liking him for some years now.  

He was aware of your feelings the whole time he dated others. Maybe he could have thought of you if you were a little more easy going, but given the fact that you are as closed off as a shell protecting mother pearl - he knew you were never the right one for him. And getting into a relationship with imbalanced proportions of dedication only translates to doom. 

He should have blamed it all on alcohol. He should have walked out of the restaurant you reserved for the first date, upon telling you he didn’t mean what he said the previous night. 

But you looked scared. You looked as if you knew what he was about to do, and that did something unexplainable to his heart. 

For once, Taehyung looked at you… really looked at you and didn’t feel like being a douchebag that took advantage of your feelings during a drunken stupor. So, he chewed his words and swallowed those with the food and started dating you against his own will. 

Things were fine. Not anything phenomenal, neither anything too bad - things between you two were just fine. He could tell how you knew he wasn’t into you, but you never complained. Taehyung was grateful for the space you always gave him and how you never forced yourself on him. Maybe not love, but he grew a whole lot of respect for you. 

Or at least that is what he thought. 

Because if it was only respect, it wouldn’t hurt as it hurts right now seeing you wrapped in the embrace of someone else. 

It’s been some three months since he last saw you - that night at the market when things ended all of a sudden. He did run behind Eun Ha, just as you advised him to, but she wasn’t even willing to hear him out, taking him back was still a far-fetched idea. 

And all of a sudden he was alone. He had no one. 

Now, after three months of radio silence, you are here - hands in hands with someone he has never seen before. You had stopped coming to the meet-ups after ending things with him, so he was rather worried for your well being. 

Now as he sees you introducing your boyfriend to your common friends, smiling ear to ear, glowing under the sparkling lights - he realizes he was worried for nothing. 

However, that doesn’t explain why his heart twists painfully inside his chest. Whether it’s the pain or the champagne that makes him take steps towards you, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he is now standing before you and you are staring at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“How are you, Y/N?” Taehyung asks, eyes drifting towards the guy standing beside you briefly.

“I am fine, you?” You smile upon managing your expressions. 

“I was worried. You almost vanished after our- after what happened at the market.” His voice closes up on its own. 

“Oh” you scoff, “I decided to choose myself actually. Thanks for being worried though.” 

“And now you are back, that too, with company I see…” he stares at the guy again. 

“Yes. Of course. It’s Mina’s engagement, how could I not. And yes, meet Seokjin. My boyfriend.” you introduce the guy by looping a hand around his arm, “Seokjin, this is Taehyung.” 

Taehyung knew what this guy might be to you, but the confirmation breaks something in him anyway. 

The guy smiles at him, as if mocking him, “Nice to meet you, Taehyung-ssi. I heard a lot about you.” 

Taehyung can’t help but scoff a little too, “glad to know that. Enjoy the party. I will leave you two alone.” 

You only nod. Just a nod, no smile, no unspoken words - nothing. 

As Taehyung walks away with couples left and right, he realizes he should have chosen the one who chose him - probably he wouldn’t feel this alone then.

But now it’s just too late to act. Too damn late.

Jeon Jungkook

Jungkook is well aware of the gravity of the mistake he made. 

It was an irreversible mistake to introduce you as a friend but the bigger mistake was not to run after you right away. 

He knows very well that there’s no possible excuse that can define his choice of actions. But seeing Sung-ah after all these years made him dumb for sure. She is the person who holds a big space in his heart and her unexpected appearance reminded him of the years they spent together. His head was so clouded with memories and broken dreams that he didn’t even realize he was compromising his present because of his past. 

The seven years Jungkook spent with Sang-ah was not a joke - they have so much history together that the abrupt end of the relationship was certainly a let down. He thought they were going to be forever before he had to throw away the rose-tinted glasses to face reality. 

However, it doesn’t mean he was not sincere about you. 

Two years… his two years with you are one of the most beautiful times of his life and he wouldn’t trade that for anything else. 

Never in his wildest dreams he had ever thought he would have to face both his past and present together and his mind would give him this task of choosing one of them only. 

Jungkook could have easily introduced you as his girlfriend, Sang-ah is his ex and it should have not mattered to him if she was disappointed. But he had heard from his Busan friends that she often asked about him and if that sparked some kind of hope? Light? Amber? And pushed him towards doing what he did, he doesn’t know. He can’t even defend himself. 

What he knows is that he is repenting every single day, and questioning his morality. He is not stuck at Sang-ha! He never thought of getting back with her although he thought their end was abrupt! Then why? Why did he hurt you like this? And why didn’t he run behind you? Why did he choose to stay with Sang-ha and catch up despite seeing those tears in your eyes? 

What was he even thinking! 

Once he and his ex parted ways upon exchanging numbers and he was alone under the clear sky of December - it hit him hard. 

He fished out his phone to call you but your number didn’t connect. With fear covering every possible corner of his consciousness he realized that you have blocked him. When his texts didn’t deliver either, his suspicion was confirmed in bold, neon font. 

Later he found an email from your ID that had two sentences, a consequence and a heartbreak attached to them. 

“I’m breaking up with you. I have no intention of hearing you out so don’t try to contact me again. Bye.”  

Jungkook never had a heartbreak before. Even with Sang-ha, things ended mutually. Hence, this is the first time he felt it. 

He felt how painful it is to be invalidated by the person you love - just like he invalidated your existence before his ex, just like he hurt you, just like he broke you into pieces. 

Jungkook has been looking for a chance since then. He has been taking the longer route from work to home just to bypass your office and the bus stop you usually catch buses from - just to run into you, just to apologize to you, just to beg you to take him back. But he hasn’t seen the face of success for the past month. 

Today is the last Friday of the month and you usually have team dinners on these days. So, when he sees you sitting at the deserted bus stop, he wonders for a solid minute if he has started hallucinating now. 

But no… it’s you. It is definitely you. 

You are sitting on the bench, face downwards - looking somewhat gloomy. But from your attire it seems as if you are coming back from a party. Your hair is kept loose, your face has little make up - you look absolutely beautiful. 

Jungkook’s feet take him towards you even before he could get a chance of practicing the pathetic lines he has prepared for a moment like this. 

“Y/N” he calls. You look up slowly. He expects you to get angry, to walk away but you only smile at him - sweet and kind. 

“Jungkook? How have you been?” You ask. It’s only been a month since he last saw you but you look more beautiful than ever. 

“I am f-fine. Y/N, will you give me a chance-” 

“Don’t, Jungkook. Just don’t.” you look away and continue, “forgiving you was tough, but I managed somehow. Now I don’t want to go back to square one. I don't want to leave with lingering grudges against you or anyone else or this city.” a quiet sigh escapes through your lips. 

Jungkook’s brain runs a mile per hour to interpret what you just said, “wh-what do you mean by leaving?” 

You look up at him with a smile again, “I got a job at one of the biggest magazines in Paris. I am leaving at the end of next week to settle things up before joining. Today was my last day at work.” 

Jungkook’s heart stops beating, his world stops moving, his blood stops flowing in his veins. Whatever hope was keeping him going - is now lost. His eyes start watering and even before he could blink, tears start raining down in fat trails. 

“Oh. oh that’s good. Con-congratulations, Y/N.” he tries his best to sound convincing, but fails. 

However, you don’t look like you care a lot. 

“Thanks. My bus is here. I will take my leave now.” with that you stand up and bow as if… as if he is just a mere acquaintance, as if you didn’t spend almost two years with him, as if you two didn’t dream of taking the relationship further - to the path of forever. 

He watches as you climb into the bus and take a seat on the other side, where he can not see you anymore. 

The bus leaves with a trail of dust flowing in the air. Jungkook stands, breathing in the scent of goodbye you left behind yourself. 

You are gone. You are gone for good. 

He chose his past and lost his present - and a potential future as well. 

And now… he has no timeline to fall back into. 

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He was waiting for the medical staff to finish their briefing, they were starting him on physical therapy for the foreseeable future. It turns out that all the ligaments and tissue surrounding the carpometacarpal and metacarpophalangeal joints were more complex to heal than one might think. If only he'd known that before using his hand as a shield against a machete.

At least he could take comfort in remembering said weapon buried in the skull of the big Austrian fucker that thought it was a good idea to wear a dirty rag for a mask and come at him with a blade in close quarters, the imbecile.

“Lieutenant. They’re ready for you.” Finally, He stands up and silently follows the nurse who’d accompanied him since they removed the stitches a couple of hours before. She was an older woman, with a stern face and of few words, who hadn’t tried to chat him up while you worked on him, and at first, he thought it was because of his mask, but after a while he noticed she was short with everyone else.

The facility itself had no natural light, only a bright fluorescent-lighted ceiling with sad white and beige painted walls, it was dull and depressing. As they approached the rehab unit, he noticed you, all warm and soft in contrast with the environment. 

A fat birdie in baby blue scrubs that accentuate all your attractive curves, with a beautiful welcoming smile adorning your round, pretty face. Like a sucker punch, It made his stomach clench, and other parts of him stir in interest. 

Like the nurse, you didn't seem to be phased by his typically intimidating looks; it wasn't that he was actively trying to scare you either, it was just how he came across, plus the black balaclava made him look like a double-edged sword, he was aware of it.

“This is your assigned Physio for the time being, she’ll be in charge of your care from now on… I'll leave you to it.” And with that, the nurse was gone.

You seemed too fucking sweet to be in this place (he’d been in military hospitals that were as hospitable as a Man U pub in East London), and that thought is confirmed the second you open your mouth. 

You welcome him like he’d just landed in a beachside resort, he'd never been to one, nor was he opposed to visiting. But now that he thought about it, he could perfectly picture you in a skimpy bikini, lying under the sun, with those tempting lips sipping on a straw from a coconut, that's suddenly turning into a phallic shape-

“Lieutenant, could you please follow me this way?” Your voice -strangely familiar- cuts off his naughty thoughts. Something itches in the back of his mind, like he knows you, maybe from another base, but surely he would remember. He could never forget a face like yours.

“Just Ghost.” He remarks and follows you. Oh boy, does he follow you, like a Malinois taking orders. The moment he gets a good look at your behind, he's sold; that ass and those thighs moving in front of him are his personal version of being hypnotized. Luring him, drawing him in. 

Perhaps being here won’t be so bad after all.

He’d done PT before, for his leg and lower back. Yet he’d grown accustomed to the constant ache. The shot of electricity that sometimes ran down his legs, the fatigue that bullied his lumbar spine after an adventurous mission with the 141. He certainly didn’t expect that a few sessions hooked to the TENS machine would magically heal all the shit he’d put his body through during his years in active duty. 

Yeah, he’d done PT before…

But it was nothing compared to this, never like this. 

Starting with the pretty thing massaging, rubbing, and pampering him. Talking his ears off about everything that had to do with his injury, what the treatment would consist of, what the next couple of weeks were going to be like, what stage of cicatrization he was on, etc. 

It felt like heaven, having a pretty lass all over him. Until you flexed his wrist and sharp pain shot like fire from his fingers to his elbow. 

You apologize, even though it's not your fault, and try to make light conversation in an attempt to distract him. His answers are short and not as friendly as yours, not because he doesn’t want to be, but because he’s concentrating on blocking out the pain, like he’d been trained to do, like he was used to.

Your breast constantly squeezing against the table the two of you were seating on certainly helped. 

The softness of your hands on his scarred one was fuel for his filthy imagination. Your sweet words of encouragement soothed him every time he grew frustrated, and the delicious scent of your perfume made his mouth water, tickling something nostalgic in his subconscious.

And then he started to forget about the pain.

Two weeks go by faster than Simon expected. He was getting better, it was less painful to close his fist, but his strength and fine motor skills were still fucked. He was no longer bored, though, he was using his free time as an excuse to become ambidextrous. 

The image of your soft, delicate hands holding him. The contrast of his scarred, calloused skin against yours, how you studied every uncovered inch with such attentiveness, it fed the thing inside him that wanted to sink its teeth on your neck and lock the fuck in.

Wanking off twice a day to thoughts of his PT was turning out to be quite the exercise. His brain had also decided it was a good time to let his breeding kink resurface -It hadn’t gone anywhere to begin with- because his muse had the perfect body for it. When he allowed his thoughts to wander down that path, he would come so fast it left him dizzy.

And you were so witty, and smart, and so goddamn sweet it satiated his sweet tooth, so attentive it filled his chest with a feeling he couldn’t name. Yet, you were a feisty little thing, a kitty with its claws sheathed. You would banter with him about football, throw bad jokes in reply to his, and scowl at him when he tried to cheat during his exercises. 

Yeah, he was feeling better than ever.

But then came Soap, giving him shit left and right about wanting to visit Simon at one of his sessions. 

Johnny had shown up -uninvited and unauthorized- just in time to see the plump birdie remove the hardened layers of paraffin wax from his hand and start stretching his strained tendons. The tender touch of your cool hands on his hot one and the sudden presence of the Sergeant in his peripheral view made him flinch slightly. It was a small movement, but enough for Johnny to take notice, the bastard smirked, amused, before locking eyes on you, then he lit up like a dog with a bone. 

The thing was, Johnny was also into bigger women. Johnny was into anything with a hole. They’d shared porn links of BBW getting pounded once or twice before (BBW getting pounded and bred to be more specific), so Simon knew exactly the kind of nasty shit lurking on the Scots mind. Chances were Simon had already thought of it.

The second Soap arrived, Simon knew he had to lay down limits. No looking, no touching. Easily communicated with a grunt and a subtle shake of his head. Turns out Johnny boy read that as an invitation, and not as the warning that it was.

Soap had then proceeded to grab a chair, and sat backward on it while facing them in the small table that had become yours since day one. And then the mutt-with-a-death-wish introduced himself and started to flirt with you. Right in front of Simon.

You were oblivious, laughed at Soap's usual shenanigans and threw cheeky comebacks here and there, keeping the conversation light and as professional as you possibly could while dealing with Johnny. 

“Poor Bonnie, ye probably exhausted after dealing with mean ol’ Lieutenant.”

“You’re wrong there, Sergeant. Ghost is one of the best patients I’ve ever had… You’d be surprised at how rude patients can be sometimes.” That last part was said quietly, and by the expression on your face, you immediately regretted saying it. Simon wanted to delve more into that, but Soap kept talking and changed the subject.

“Bet ya wish it was me in yer care, we’d have a fun time every time…”

When it was over, after the nurse kicked Soap out of the rehab unit for his boisterous behavior, Simon grabbed him by the scruff (with his good hand, he wasn’t going to fuck up your progress) and shoved him into a wall, he made it clear to Soap that he was not to do that again. “A’ight, no messin’ with yer doc, got it, now let off Lt.” He giggled in between forced breaths. Only then did Simon lift his forearm from his throat.

The next day, he decided to go in earlier to apologize for his squad mate's behavior. What he stumbled upon, was an example of your accidental confession. 

“I’ve said it a hundred times already, I can’t fucking do it! What’s the fucking point? I’m just wasting my time.” He heard the pitchy shouts before he saw them. A rookie soldier in crutches, towering over you, face red and nostrils flaring. While you were holding onto the handrail of the parallel bars like a lifeline. 

“Let's just give it a try, this is the last exercise for the day, alright?” Even dealing with the man's tantrum, you kept your polite demeanor. 

“I don’t fucking want to, I’m done.” The soldier started to maneuver his way around the bars, and you followed him, still unaware of Simon's presence. The nurse was arranging some papers on the other side of the room, watching everything unfold silently.

“Sir, we’re not done. I’m here to help you recover, there’s no need to be uncivil.” This time your words were stern, your face frowning in determination. Simon thought it was cute.

“There is no need to be a pain in the ass either, fat bitch!”

And that was enough of that, with a few long steps Simon was in the young man's space, looking down at him and sizing him up, ”Quiet.” One word was enough, the thin veil of anger that disguised the soldiers' fears vanished from his face. “Stop your whingin’. Apologise and sod off.”

“Apologies, ma’am.” the soldier said over his shoulder grudgingly. You acknowledged it with a single nod. 

“Not good enough, look at her and say it like you mean it, boy.” Simon ground his molars and clenched his fist to stop himself from doing the violent things he wanted to.

The soldier turned clumsily on his crutches and muttered another apology, slightly more sincere than the first. Simon took a step aside to let him go, he didn’t give a fuck about pulling rank over the lad, he just wanted him gone and away from you. He would deal with it more thoroughly later. He was sure Johnny would enjoy giving him a hand.

Once the shell shock case walked out, Simon approached you. Even though you didn't seem upset from the confrontation, he noticed that your chest was heaving as you took deep breaths to calm down. You were staring at the floor, eyes a little hazy, with a hand resting on your soft belly, working on controlling your breathing. 

“Y’alright?”  

“No, yeah-” You paused and tilted your head up at him. “Yes, yes. I’m fine.” Your cheeks seemed flushed. Simon assumed it was anger, yet he found you deliriously hot. 

Raising the hand he was jealous of from your navel, you comically looked at your naked wrist, “Well, look at the time, right on the dot,” He was not, it was still early. “I’ll just… grab a cup of tea, and then we’ll begin our session. I’ll be back in a moment.” You dashed away, leaving him with the nurse, who now looked at him with her arms folded, one brown raised and lips pursed, clearly not amused by the situation.

After that day, things were… different. Since you were usually the one to start most of the conversations, your frequent chats became strained. In fact, you hardly spoke to him anymore (well, not really, he just got used to your constant yapping), only to give him instructions. 

He found that he missed it, your sweet attention talks, what he normally detested in others, he found charming in you. Not having that made him feel uneasy. Not only that, but he desperately wanted to return the gesture. He knew that his usual nonchalant and sarcastic tone wasn’t gonna cut it this time.

You made every effort to avoid meeting his gaze, as it would only become more intense as it sought to meet yours constantly. Because if he couldn’t have your voice, he’d settle for your pretty eyes. He was aware that he was behaving a little insane -like a hunter stalking its prey- but he was unable and unwilling to control himself.

One day, you caught him by surprise and set a gun on the table. A Clock 17, unloaded and  with an empty mag, a cleaning kit laying beside it. You told him to get into it and put those fingers to work, then you pulled a .19 from the pocket of your thigh, sat beside him instead of your usual spot on the other side of the table, and started to disassemble it with an efficiency that rivaled Kyle’s. He wanted to fuck you right then and there.

He grunted while appreciating you with a warm smile hidden by his mask, but still evident in his eyes. You turned at the sound, finally meeting his gaze, you gifted him a bright smile that blinded him and made him feel a little hazy.

He blinked slowly, pulled himself together and started to go through the motions of a deep cleaning for a Clock. He could do it in his sleep, blindfolded, and hog tied. Only to find he was a sloppy mess that somehow could not even pull the slide from the frame without struggling with the catch levers.

“You got it, Lt. Slowly but surely.” You encourage him. He carried on, watching your soft hands handle the weapon felt like you somehow were touching an extension of him. Another thought to not share with his therapist.

As he got lost in his thoughts, Simon still had that nagging feeling in the back of his mind. You felt so familiar, there was just something nostalgic about the way he felt about you. Like he was longing for something he couldn’t quite remember, a word on the tip of his tongue. Or maybe he was getting too attached, too fast.

A few weeks after the incident with the rookie, he graduated from the rehab unit and was back at the gym (still with some limitations) and other duties, but still you insisted on going down to the shooting range with him. You wanted to monitor his improvement during work activities, which in his case meant shooting big guns, reloading them, and throwing sharp knives. He’d not been given the all-clear on hand-to-hand combat yet.

It was a mistake. Simon knew it the second you left the comfort of the indoors behind. You were out of your usual scrubs and instead were dressed up in a pair of cargo pants, tan army boots and a black compression shirt that stretched to sinful limits around your shape. It was torture. All the men watching you parade through the base made his hands itch to pull eyes out of sockets.

And then you were pampering him again, carefully massaging and moving his hand before he started shooting at a target. Standing close to him to better assess his hold on the guns, you called him out when he misplaced a shaky finger to avoid discomfort, reminding him that it was important to practice without any compensatory movements, so he didn’t develop bad habits.

You were all over him again, all your attention was on him, on the way he stood, on how he unloaded and reloaded, on how he shot round after round. Not even Price and Gaz introducing themselves diverted your focus. It was elating, he felt intoxicated.

By the time you were done for the day, Simon escorted you back to the barracks sporting a semi. Then he practically jogged to his room and proceeded to jerk off like a madman with the smell of gunpowder and your scent still on his nose. Fantasizing about coming inside you, filling you so full of him, claiming your little holes and-

He was hanging on to his self-control by the skin of his teeth, one little nudge away from losing it.

It should've been no surprise to him that in the end, it was knives that did it.

Oh, the irony.

You were alone, standing in the small warehouse next to the shooting range. It was poorly lit, equipped with big wooden circles with targets painted on them, a marksman table bolted to the floor and a utility wall full of all sorts of sharp paraphernalia. 

You were closer than the day before, again in your new uniform, looking hot and smelling as tempting as ever. Meanwhile, he was fucking up all his throws. 

You’d been at it for half an hour now, and he was getting more frustrated by the second.

“You are holding them too tightly, you have your full strength back now. The goal is to practice micro-dosing it when it requires gentle movements. Let me show you.” You said while studying his form.

You stand on your tiptoes to reach his injured hand that's been holding the KaBar knife over his shoulder in a throwing stance. Your soft front brushes against his side. Your fingertips lightly touch his tense fingers gripping the handle, and then your voice is right by his shoulder, whispering dirty-sounding words of encouragement.

“Relax a little bit, yes. Just like that.” Your breath caresses his skin, and he suppresses a shudder, “Yes, yes, perfect! Now, do it!” He throws the knife. 

Neither one of you sees it land with a thud in the center of the target. 

He’s on you before he can stop himself. 

With his hands wrapped around your throat, he pulls you impossibly closer to him, you gasp and instinctively grabs his wrists. His thumbs on your soft jaw tilt your head to make you look into his eyes. You moan, an involuntary noise that escapes your throat. The sound travels like high voltage through his blood to his groin. 

“Lieutenant…” you whisper, voice cracking with fear and a hesitated question.

Simon growls, slightly tilting his hips against your belly, wanting you to feel his hard cock, his need.

"Always on top of me, touching me, tempting me."  He turns slowly, keeping you in his grasp, and you move with him. "You have no idea how long I’ve been stopping myself from putting my hands on you," two steps forward, and he traps you against the old marksman table. Left speechless, your hands fall to his hard chest. Not punching him away, he notes.

His hands travel from your throat down to your hip, gentle but heavy petting your curves, He leans close and nudges your cheek with his clothed one. Your breathing becomes more labored by the second. "So sweet, yet so oblivious to the effect you have on me." He whispers next to your ear as he tightens his grip on you, his fingers digging on your softness, "But I can show you."

Simon picks you up, you shriek and throw your arms around his neck as he sits you on the table. He swipes one hand behind you, clearing the table of the clutter that falls loudly to the floor, purposely missing a small knife, he grabs it and brings it up to point at you with the sharp tip, “You’re gonna owe me a mask after this.” 

He lifts the bottom of his balaclava and cuts a piece off to reveal his mouth. Pink and plump lips split by a long scar all the way from his nose, down his cupid's bow, to just above his dimpled chin. 

He doesn’t give you time to appreciate the new exposed piece of him, because Simon leans down to claim your mouth in a passionate, claiming kiss. His eyes flutter close as you share the warmth of his body, and the truth of his confession. Your hands slid to his arms, gripping his biceps as you pulled him closer, your tongue tentatively meeting his in an unspoken invitation for more.

The kiss grows more urgent, his tongue diving into your mouth as he tasted the sweetness of your submission. His hands roaming your body, familiarizing themselves with every curve, fingers tracing circles underneath your breast and on the softness of your waist. Your own hands started to explore him, your nails digging into the skin of his exposed arms as you traced his muscles like you’re memorizing him.

Pulling away from your mouth, he nuzzled his masked nose against the apple of your chubby cheek, "If you don’t want this, now is the time to say so, before I lose myself." He was giving you a way out of his possessive grasp before it was too late, before he sunk his sharp teeth into your juicy peach and decided he was not going to let go.

“I want you!” Your voice was a desperate whimper at the mere notion of stopping. You want it, all he would give you, you’ll take it. Your hands grabbed his shirt and tugged, trying to take it off, you managed to untuck it from his pants before he grunted and grabbed both your wrists in each of his hands to stop you.

He kissed you once more and bit your lower lip, making you gasp, He took the opportunity and licked inside your mouth. “Tongue.” he barked, you obeyed and shyly stuck your tongue out. Simon licked, sucked, and bit again. It was utterly erotic. 

He pulled away from you and made quick work of undressing, took off his shirt, and then undid the button and zipper of his cargo pants. He was so big, all over. Packed with muscles and a layer of fat that made it seem like he was naturally bulletproof, even when you knew that wasn’t the case. The scars he wore were a crude and raw testament of the truth.

He moved close again, reached for your knees, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive flesh behind them, causing your legs to fall apart slightly. You watched, transfixed, as his hands moved closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. The teasing was agonizing, but you didn't want it any other way. Instead, you took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling with each stroke of his hand.

With a predatory grace, Simon leaned over you, his eyes never leaving yours as his hand traveled up your leg over the thick fabric that separated you from his touch. You felt the anticipation coil tighter in your stomach, a knot of excitement and fear that made your breath hitch. He paused just before he reached your center, his fingers tracing your sensitive inner thigh. You could feel the heat of his body, his scent mingling with sweat and arousal.

"You know," he said, his voice a low growl, "I’ve been dying to know what you taste like." His thumb hovered just above the fabric over your pussy, the pressure of it making you tremble. "Do you want to help me with that, baby?"

Your eyes widened, and you felt a rush of warmth spread through your body. You had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable while still being clothed. But there was something about the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, that made it feel so sexy. "Yes, Ghost," you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "I want that."

The Lieutenant's smile grew, his teeth a dangerous sight in contrast with the dark fabric of his mask. "Good," he said, his thumb finally sliding over the seam at your center.

With swift motions, he kneeled down to unbutton and yank your camo pants and panties off, making your hips rise and fall involuntarily, revealing your fuzzy, glistening wet pussy. The coolness of the air made you gasp, and you felt a thrill as his gaze locked on your most sensitive parts. Simon leaned in closer, his nose just inches from your sex. He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled your scent, his eyes closing in pleasure.

The sound of his deep inhale made your stomach flip. You felt a strange sense of power, knowing you could elicit such a reaction from him. His eyes snapped open, and you saw the hunger in them, the raw need that was no longer hidden behind the veil of indifference he usually donned. "Mm," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You smell so good, baby."

Without another word, Simon leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on your fat mons, his stubbled cheek brushing against the naked skin of your inner thigh. Your hips jerked upward at the contact, a gasp escaping your lips, the intimacy of the moment almost too much to handle. He kissed you again, this time a bit closer to your clit, the stubble grazing your skin again, sending sparks of pleasure through your core.

"Your pussy is so perfect," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "So soft and plump. Just like a ripe little peach." He placed a hand on your hip, holding you in place as he continued to shower you with wet kisses, each one closer to the center of your desire. It was so bewildering, the way he was rough and gentle with you at the same time.

Your breathing grew ragged, your body trembling with each tender touch. Then, without warning, you felt wetness on your clit as Simon leaned in and let a bead of saliva fall from his mouth onto your sensitive flesh. You gasped at the sensation, the coolness of his spit mixing with the warmth of your slick. His tongue followed the droplet, tracing a wet line up the center of your pussy, and you felt a bolt of electricity shoot through your core.

"Ghost," you whimpered, your hands clutching the edges of the table.

"Shh," Simon soothed, his eyes never leaving yours. "Just relax, sweetheart. I got you." He slid his middle finger along your slit, the tip of it teasing your swollen clit before delving into your wetness. Your back arched as he pushed the digit into you, his knuckles grazing your sensitive skin. "So tight," he murmured, his voice filled with fascination. "So perfect."

He began to pump his finger in and out, the motion sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. You felt so full, so overwhelmed, still you craved more. You could feel your body responding in ways you didn't know were possible, so out of control, it was like an outer body experience. He had barely touched you.

“This was all I could think about every time you were holding my hand,” Simon said as he watched, transfixed, at the way his finger moved. “Making me all better just so I could repay you like this.” Your pussy clenched around his finger, begging for more, and you couldn't help but rock your hips in time with his movements.

"Tell me how it feels," he murmured, his voice a firm command that made your body quiver. "Does this pussy like when I play with her?"

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn't lie. "It feels… amazing," you admitted, your voice shaking. "I've never felt like this before." You leaned back on your elbows and let your head drop back.

Simon's eyes lit up with excitement. "Good," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I want you to feel good, baby. I want you to know just how much I appreciate you." His thumb began to circle your clit as he continued to fuck you with his finger, the dual sensation making you moan even louder. "But we're just getting started. There's so much I want to do to you, so much more I want to do with you."

He stood up and with his free hand grabbed you by the nape of your neck to pull you upright, “Show me your tits sweetheart, take that fucking shirt off.” You hesitated for two heart beats and he amped the pace of his thrusts, “Take. It. All. Off.” 

You swallowed the nervous knot that formed in your throat and started to strip off your shirt. Once you were covered in only your sports bra, you took a deep inhale and straightened your back, reassuring yourself that there was nothing to be self-conscious about.

“You gonna make me repeat myself?” His tone dropped lower, his words a playful threat. You shook your head and off went your bra. As soon as you were bare before him, Simon ceased to move, his fingers still inside you, you even thought he stopped breathing for a moment. A nasty, insecure thought scurried across your mind, but it got squashed by the way Simon was looking at you like he wanted to devour you.

Then he snapped.

He leaned closer to you, his breath hot against your neck. You felt his hand move from your neck down to your chest, his calloused thumb grazing your nipple before he took it into his mouth. It was overwhelming, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he began to suckle. The sensation of his mouth on you, combined with the new relentless rhythm of his finger inside your pussy, left you on the brink of a form of pleasure you had never experienced before.

With each second that passed, your breathing grew more erratic, your body moving in time with his. The sound of his mouth on your skin blended with your moans and the distant sound of the shooting range. The warm flush on your face was a stark contrast to the coolness of his saliva as it dripped down your chest. His free hand moved to your other breast, kneading and rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It was a symphony of sensations, each one building upon the last until you felt like a supernova.

"Do you like that, baby?" he murmured against your skin, his teeth scraping your nipple before capturing it between his teeth. "Do you like how I make you feel?"

Your breath hitched, and you nodded frantically. "Y-yes, Simon." you managed to gasp out, your voice tight with need.

Simon's smile grew wider when he finally heard you say his name, and he leaned closer, his face inches from your chest. He took your other nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the tight peak as he began to thrust his finger faster, your pussy clenching around his digits with each vicious stroke. He swapped back and forth, his mouth moving from one breast to the other, never letting the sensation ease.

As he sucked, he let out a low groan, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hand moved to your other breast, giving it a playful slap that made you jump. You felt so aroused, so desired, the thought of someone walking in any moment made you forget about any insecurity, and you couldn't deny the thrill of it. It felt like he owned you, and you were his to do with as he pleased.

With a sudden, almost feral growl, Simon pulled away from your breasts, his eyes locking onto yours. He leaned back slightly, taking in the sight of your finger fucked pussy, his hand still working your clit. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he leaned between your legs, his cheek brushing the tender skin of your inner thighs. You felt a strange mix of fear and excitement as you watched him, his massive frame casting a shadow over your most intimate parts.

"Fuck." he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. And then he lowered his mouth to your pussy again, his tongue sliding through your folds with the ease of a hot knife through butter. The sensation was overwhelming, the combined feeling of his rough stubble and the warmth of his mouth sending you spiraling into a whirlwind of pleasure. You felt the muscles in your stomach tighten, your legs trembling as you tried to hold herself still, and your throat tightened, trying to not let out a sound.

Surprising you with his strength, He lifted one of your legs and placed it over his broad shoulder, his hand wrapping around your thigh to keep you in place. The new angle made you feel even more exposed, your pussy open and vulnerable to his every whim. He took full advantage of the position, his tongue delving deeper, reaching places you didn't even know existed.

Your moans escaped you and grew louder, filling the closed space of the warehouse as the cool air caressed your heated skin. The fabric of his mask kissed your bare thighs as he moved between your legs, it tickled your sensitive flesh as he licked and sucked. You could feel his hot breath against your clit, the sensation making your hips buck involuntarily, nobody had eaten you out like this before, with such desperation.

The Lieutenant's tongue was playing your body like a fine instrument, he knew just how to touch you, just how to make you whimper and beg for more. Each flick of his tongue was a sweet torture, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, without pushing you over just yet. 

Your eyes squeezed shut, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you tried to hold back the scream building in your chest. You could feel the tension coil tighter and tighter, your body hanging on the precipice of something you had only ever read about in your stash of romance novels.

"Simon," you gasped, voice a needy whisper. "I'm… I'm going to… "

Your words dissolved into a whimper as you felt the heat inside you build. Simon's tongue had become relentless, swirling and flicking against your clit with a skill that seemed to defy his brusque exterior. 

His teeth grazed your sensitive flesh, the slight edge of pain mixed with pleasure, sent you spiraling higher and higher. You could feel your pussy tightening around his finger, the muscles in your soft stomach seizing up, your body shaking with the strain.

Your obscene sounds grew louder, filling the air with the sweet symphony of your impending orgasm. Simon's eyes remained locked on you, the intensity in them unwavering as he felt your body tense beneath his touch. He knew you were close, and the thought of making you come sent a jolt of excitement through his own body. 

"That's it," he murmured in between licks, his voice thick with lust. "Let go for me."

He moved one of his hands to spread your pussy lips apart even farther, using his thumb and forefinger, he kept the speed of his tongue while doing it. You could feel the orgasm growing, a rush of bliss that stole the breath from your lungs. His mouth was a brand of fire on your sensitive flesh, and you couldn't hold back any longer. You let out a keening cry, your body arching off the table as you came, your pussy convulsing around his fingers. The waves of ecstasy crashed over you, leaving you trembling and gasping for breath.

Simon didn't stop. He continued to lick and suck, your juices coating his lips and chin as he drank in your sweetness, dampening the fabric of his balaclava. The feeling of his tongue on your clit was exquisite torture, each stroke sending another wave of pleasure through you. You could feel the muscles in your pelvis spasm, your legs quivering as you rode out your climax.

When the last tremor of your release faded, Simon pulled back, a smug smile on his face. His cheeks and lips were wet with your cum, a glistening trail of saliva connecting his mouth to your pussy. He licked his lips, savoring the taste. "Mmm," he murmured, his dark eyes never leaving yours. "You taste so delicious, baby."|

You felt a flush of embarrassment as you looked away, your pussy still spasming slightly with aftershocks of pleasure. Reality started to creep in on your lust-addled mind. But the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, it distracted, you felt beautiful, desirable. He was overwhelming. "Si…" you whispered, unsure of what to say.

Simon chuckled, a satisfied sound that resonated in your very bones. "Look at me, baby," he said, his voice a gentle command that you couldn't ignore. You lowered your eyes, meeting his gaze. "You're so beautiful when you cum," he murmured, his thumb still rubbing lazy circles around your clit. "Your whole body just lights up."

He bent over you, the weight of his massive frame pressing you into the table. You could feel the heat of his chest, the dampness of his skin against your own. His breath tingled your skin as he leaned in, his breath hot on your face. "You liked that, didn't you?" he whispered, his eyes searching for approval in yours, his hand still playing with your pussy.

You nodded, unable to find the words to describe the wave of emotions that surged through you. You could feel your heart racing, your chest heaving with each ragged breath you took. He pinched your clit, the sensation sending aftershocks of pleasure through your body, overstimulating you.

"Good," Simon murmured, his eyes darkening with satisfaction. "Now, give me that sweet mouth."

He shifted his weight, his powerful muscles flexing as he moved to lie on top of you. His body was like a blanket of warmth and security, his weight pressing you into the table. You felt your heart race even faster, your eyes never leaving his as he lowered his face to yours. The edges of his mask and his scruff brushed against your cheek, the scent of him -musky and manly- surrounding you.

His lips found yours in a kiss that was consuming and possessive. You felt his tongue slip into your mouth, tasting, exploring, as if he couldn't get enough of you. Your body responded instinctively, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer, your legs spreading to accommodate his thick thigh between them. The strokes of his tongue slowly became more forceful, and you could feel his hard cock pressing against your soft stomach.

The kiss grew sloppier, wetter, as you both succumbed to the overwhelming passion that had been building for a long time. His spit mingled with yours, the salty taste of flesh mixed with faint remnants of nicotine and the lingering sweetness of your juices. It was messy, raw, and utterly consuming. The stubble on his chin scraped against your skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

With one hand on your jaw and the other still buried between your legs, a sudden primal need took over Simon, he pulled back and spit into your mouth without warning. It was an act of dominance, a claim that left no doubt of his intentions. The saliva slipped over your tongue, warm and slightly bitter. Your eyes went wide with shock, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you swallowed, the gesture feeling almost like a declaration of acceptance.

"Mm, such a good girl," he murmured, his hand sliding up your body, over your curves, to rest on your hip. His thumb stroked your skin, his eyes never leaving yours, feeding all the eye contact you had starved him off. "You're so soft, so precious. Yet I could crush you with my bare hands if I wanted to."

You felt said massive hand grab your waist, his fingers spread wide and sinking into your love-handles as flesh spilled out from between them. He was so much larger than you, his body a testament of his strength and power. You felt like a mere slip of a thing in comparison, it sent a thrill of euphoria through you. 

"Nearly became a lefty, and not because of your little exercises, love. I had to jerk off every time I left you." Your eyes went wide, and you felt your cheeks flush. The feeling of being so fervently desired by him was electrifying.

"Do you want to see my cock?" he tilted his head slightly, it was almost comical, but his deep and gravelly voice rumbled over you.

You had seen a few before, nothing bad but nothing memorable either. The thought of seeing Simon Riley's cock was dizzying. "Y-yes," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a predatory grace that defied his size, Simon stood up, his towering form casting a shadow over you. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his cargos and boxers, and pulled them both down with a swift move, revealing his thick, muscular thighs and the massive cock that jutted out from between them. 

It was huge, the size of which you had only ever read about in books and seen in the most exaggerated of porn, but still so pretty. The sight of it made you gulp, your eyes widening with anticipation and excitement. You could study it and write prose about it if given the time.

"Look at it," he said, his voice filled with pride as he took his cock in his scarred hand and stroked it slowly. The skin was velvety and pink, the veins standing out in stark contrast against his pale flesh. "This is me, baby. This is your man."

You couldn't help but stare, your eyes drawn to the thick, pulsing length of him. His pubic hair was a wild blonde thicket, a stark contrast to the rest of his body, which was mostly hairless. His balls were massive, heavy, and full, hanging low with desire. He cupped them in his other hand, rolling them gently, the motion causing his cock to bob and sway. "See how big they are?" he asked, his voice a low purr. "These are just for you."

Your eyes flicked up to meet his for a second as you nodded, only to drop back down to his movement, feeling too overwhelmed to find words. He was so imposing, so commanding, and you were at his mercy. "They're huge," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper.

With a wicked smile, Simon leaned back over you, his cock still in hand. "You make me feel things I thought I never would," he said, his voice a low growl. "Can you believe that?" He began to stroke himself more vigorously, the sound of his hand moving up and down his shaft a wet, slick sound that echoed through the air. "Lust, for one. Possessive, for another. Just for you."

Your eyes remained glued to his cock as he spoke, the size of it making you feel intimidated and incredibly turned on. You had never seen anything so brutally masculine. You swallowed hard, your mouth feeling dry as you imagined what it would feel like inside it.

"Tell me, baby," Simon rumbled, his hand moving faster along his shaft. "Do you want to know how it feels to have me inside you?" he asked like he could read your thoughts.

You nodded frantically, the words trapped in your throat. Your pupils were blown wide with desire as you watched him stroke the pre-cum beading at the tip of his cock. You were craving the feeling of being filled by him.

"Good girl," Simon praised, one hand moving to squeeze the base of his shaft and the other grabbing your thigh once more, his cock hovering just above your pussy. "Now, let's put those pretty feet of yours over my shoulder," he said, his tone a gentle command.

You complied, your legs shaking with a mix of excitement and nerves as he lifted your hips off the table and moved you closer to the edge. He positioned you so that your ankles rested on his broad shoulders, your pussy at his mercy, your soft belly and breast offered like a banquet to indulge his appetite. The buzz of anticipation of what was to come making you squirm beneath him, it was almost unbearable.

With a wicked grin, Simon began to drag the tip of his massive cock over your slit, teasing your clit with every pass. It was exquisite, the slickness of his pre-cum combining with your own wetness created a deliciously slippery path. You watched as he worked himself over you, his muscles tensing and releasing with each stroke, his hand moving with the determination of a man who knew exactly what he wanted.

Your breath caught in your throat as he guided the full length of his shaft over your core, the sheer size of him making you feel small and unbearably empty. It was so different from when he used his hands and mouth, so much more intimate, it had your entire body quivering. You could feel the head of his cock nudge against your opening, the bluntness of it hinting at the pleasure to come.

"Look at that," Simon murmured, his voice low and filled with fascination. "Look how eager you are for my cock." He leaned down, his mask brushing against your cheek as he whispered in your ear. "You're going to be so tight… So tight around me."

Your breath hitched, your eyes still glued to the sight before you. The tip of his cock was now perfectly aligned with your entrance, the head nudging gently against it. You could feel the warmth of him, the pulsing need that seemed to radiate from his very pores. "Simon," you breathed, your voice trembling.

He was going slow, almost agonizingly so. Simon watched the head of his cock finally breaching your slick folds, and he groaned. Your eyes went wide, your body stiffening as you felt the first inch enter you. It was glorious. He was so big, so thick, it felt as though you were being split in two, like there was a “you” before and after this.

"Look at that," he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. "So tight, so wet for me." He began to move, inch by inch, filling you up with his massive girth. With every push, you felt yourself stretching, accommodating more of him, and you couldn't help the moans that slipped from your lips. "That's it," he encouraged, his eyes fixated on your pussy. "Take it all, baby. Take every last inch of your man's cock."

There was a faint pain despite being prepared to take him, it was laced with something pleasant. Each time he pushed forward, you felt yourself opening up to him, your body reshaping itself just for him, for his cock, every cell of your being responding to his steady thrusts. His breath tickled your neck, hot against your skin, as he whispered sweet taunts that sent shivers down your spine. "You're such a good little slut," he said, his voice a low growl. "Letting me fill you up like this."

Your cheeks flamed with both embarrassment and arousal. The words should have offended you, but instead, they made your pussy clench around his cock. You could feel yourself getting wetter, your arousal making it easier for him to slide deeper into you. His movements grew more deliberate, the slow, torturous pace driving you crazy with need.

"Look how much of me you can take," he said, his voice a sensual purr. "You're such a good little slut for me, aren't you?"

The words were like a brand, searing themselves into your soul and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You liked it, the way his words made you feel both dirty and desired. With a final, agonizingly slow push, he bottomed out, fully buried inside you, his balls resting against your ass. The sensation was indescribable, a mix of pain and pleasure that had you panting and writhing beneath him.

"Atta girl," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with hunger and lust. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips with the same demanding force as his cock had your pussy. The taste of him filled your mouth, mingling with your own sweetness.

As the kiss deepened, Simon began to move, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm that had your eyes rolling back in your head. He pushed in to the hilt, filling you completely, before pulling back almost all the way out. The sensation was maddening, the friction of his cock against your inner walls making your toes curl, and your nails dig into his skin.

With each thrust, he grew more aggressive, his grunts growing louder, filling the quiet warehouse with the sounds of your sexual consummation. Your moans grew in tandem, your breath hitching with every stroke. You felt like you were being claimed, owned, and the feeling was intoxicating. The pleasure built inside you, a heat that grew with each stroke of his cock.

Simon held your hip with a tight, possessive grip, his strong hands pinning you in place as he fucked you with a brutal efficiency that defied his gentle touch from before. The look in his eyes was like a storm, swirling with emotions that you couldn't quite decipher. Was it just desire? Lust? Or something else, something far more profound? You didn't know, and you didn't care. All you knew was that you needed more of him, you needed him deeper, harder.

Your eyes fluttered shut, unable to bare the weight of his stare, but he was relentless. Forcing you to meet his gaze, "Look at me," he growled, his voice thick with passion. "Look at me when I fuck you." your eyes snapped open, and you found yourself lost in his gaze once again, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he fucked you.

He went rougher, his balls slapping against your ass with every deep thrust, the sound echoing off the walls of the warehouse. It was a primal, carnally satisfying sound that seemed to resonate through your very core, driving you closer and closer to the edge. Each thrust sent a jolt of divine pleasure through you, mixing with the pain of his intrusion to create a cocktail of sensation that was more addictive than any drug.

He lowered his head to your neck and murmured, "I can feel your heartbeat around me. It's driving me fucking crazy, baby." His teeth nipping at your skin. "You make me feel strong when I'm inside you. Like I can conquer the word." More heat bloomed in your core, "You're going to swell up with my cum, love."

Your eyes widened, shock and arousal coursing through your veins, the thought sent a thrill through you. "You like that, don't you?" Simon asked, his voice a low rumble. "The thought of being filled with my cum, growing round and lush with my seed?" He leaned down to nip at your ear, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "You're going to be the best little breeding slut, aren't you?"

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you couldn't deny the way your pussy clenched around him, the way your hips began to lift to meet his thrusts. He noticed the change in you immediately, the way you moaned louder, the way you arched your back and pushed your breasts up towards him, like a heavenly offer. "Oh, you do," he said with a smug smile, his strokes becoming more forceful. "You want my cum, don't you?"

"Yes," you whimpered, the word torn from you as he hit a spot deep inside you that sent waves of pleasure through your body. "I want it."

"That's what I thought," Simon said, his grin wicked as he leaned back and began to fuck you with a viciousness that left you gasping. Each thrust was a declaration, a claim, a promise of what was to come. "You're going to be so full of me, baby. So full of my cum." His words were sweet, almost tender, laced with a brutal certainty that had your pussy spasming around his cock.

He placed his scarred palm over your opened mouth like he was trying to suffocate you, his fingers were spread apart and roughly grabbed your face. ”Kiss it,” He demanded, “Lick it, baby.” He gripped you by the waist with the other hand, your soft flesh giving in to his ruthless hold. 

You did as he commanded, making out with the flesh you knew so well, licked and kissed the scar you healed. You got lost in the feeling of worshiping the creased skin of his hand. Worshiping him.

With a roar, Simon plunged two of his fingers into your mouth, thrusted in you one last time and you felt his entire body tensing as he reached his climax. You felt the hot, thick spurts of his cum fill you as you sucked on his fingers that still tasted like you. It was exhilarating. His hips jerked against you, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside you. 

The feeling of his seed spilling into you was unlike anything Simon had ever experienced before, a primal rush that resonated through his very soul.

Your own orgasm followed quickly, your body shaking with the force of it. Your scream muffled by his digits, your nails digging into the skin of his thighs, you held on as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Simon never took his eyes off of you, watching you fall apart beneath him with a ferocious and possessive stare. 

The sound of your combined release filled the air, a symphony of moans and grunts that echoed off the walls surrounding you. His cock swelled even larger, his spurts of cum painting your inner walls and claiming you as his, you could feel his cock jerk with each one, filling you to the brim, stretching you impossibly wider.

"Ten," he panted, his body finally stilling above you. "Ten spurts of my love, baby." He leaned down, kissing you softly, his tongue slipping into your mouth, sharing the taste of the moment with you.

You felt boneless, the scale of your climax leaving you trembling and overwhelmed. You could feel his cum inside you, a warm, thick presence that filled you completely. The reality of what they'd just done settled over you, a mix of shock and euphoria.

Simon's cock twitched one last time before sliding out of you with a wet pop, leaving your pussy gaping open and exposed. He watched you with smug satisfaction, his chest heaving with exertion. The head of his cock was still coated in your combined juices, a white foamy ring around the base showed how good the sex had been.

You lay there, your chest heaving, your legs trembling as you tried to come to terms with what had just happened. You felt… changed, somehow. Different. The intimate nature of the encounter only served to amplify your afterglow, leaving you feeling both sated and yet insatiably hungry for more.

Simon’s cum was slowly trickling out of you, the sticky warmth of it reminded you of the unhinged way you’d acted. You couldn't believe you had begged for it, begged to be filled with his seed. But you had, and now you felt both ashamed and strangely proud of yourself. It was as if a switch had been flipped inside you, awakening something you didn’t know was there.

Simon stood up, his massive cock still semi-hard and wet with your slick. He looked down at your pussy, a proud smile playing on his lips as he gently removed your legs from his shoulders. "You did so well, sweetheart," he said, his voice still gruff with desire. "Can’t wait to get you on my bed."

You felt a swell of hope at his words, he wanted more too. Despite the anxiety and confusion that fought within you, you had never felt so alive, so desired. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Still standing over you, he offered you a hand up. As you took it, you felt the tremble in his fingers, the residue of his own climax. He helped you to your feet, his gaze lingering on your naked form, committing every detail to memory.

"I could just bend you over right now and fuck that sweet, tempting ass," he said, his voice a gruff purr. "But I've got to get you cleaned up. Somebody is bound to show up, so we’ll leave that for later." He playfully slapped one ass cheek, making you jump and shriek. It stung, leaving a warm imprint off his palm, a clear gesture of ownership. "You stay here while I look for something to clean us up," he ordered, his tone gentle.

You watched as he strutted away, his muscular frame flexing with every step, the wetness on his cock glistening under the dim light. You couldn't help but admire him, the way his cock bobbed slightly with each movement. It was an erotic sight, one you could get used to.

As he looked around, and the afterglow cleared from your foggy brain, you pondered how to tell him the story; about a young soldier you met in the ICU years ago, when you were just an intern. A handsome young man who had a tube down his throat and a wound on his lower back from ricochet shrapnel. How you had been the one assigned to move all his joints and stretch all his muscles, two times a day, every day, while he was unconscious. How you would talk to him about anything and everything, even if he didn’t answer. How you were the one who took care of the man until your rotation ended, and you were sent elsewhere, never knowing what became of him. Never seeing the soldier again. 

Until Simon “Ghost” Riley decided to use his hand as a shield against a machete.

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.