#agust d

your boyfriend yoongi had been working for several hours on his laptop, finishing his latest track.

he sat on the big chair, all focused on the screen in front of him.

a half finished black coffee beside him that you'd brought him an hour ago.

his posture was relaxed but still in an intensely concentrated manner that always made your heart skip a beat.

he was wearing a hoodie only, his dark hair fell messily over his forehead and every so often he would absentmindedly push his new thin rectangular glasses up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger.

the gesture was so simple yet it made your legs squeeze together.

you had been curled up on the small couch in the corner of his studio for what felt like hours now, he brought that couch especially for you only so he could have you in his space while he works.

he doesn’t like having you away from him for even a second.

there was a forgotten book open on your lap as your eyes kept drifting away from the pages and towards him.

the way the glow from the monitors reflected on his glasses, his brows furrowing in focus which made his already cat like eyes sharper.

it made him look effortlessly authoritative and intelligent, also attractive in a way that made your cheeks turn pink.

he started wearing glasses a few weeks ago and you had openly admitted to him how much the glasses affected you.

“they look really good on you yoongi... like, so sexy.” you had confessed the first night.

he had simply smirked and adjusted them with one finger, no doubt feeling pride at the observation and his girl's approval.

“noted. i'll keep that in mind.”

and he had.

ever since whenever he slipped them on for work, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything else.

a need that didn’t go away with every passing minute you spent watching him.

the longer you sat there stealing glances the more your clit throbbed insistently, your nipples hardening under your tank top and you could feel your panties get soaked clinging to your folds.

you don’t like to wear much when you're at home anyways so you're just wearing a tiny black tank top with no bra and panties only.

yoongi preferred you like this.

you shifted on the couch, twirling a strand of your hair and read one single sentence several times in your book.

you’ve been trying to behave but you can't focus on anything else.

finally when you couldn’t hold back any longer, you stood up slowly feeling your stomach flutter from nervousness.

you walked to his desk and stood beside him, yoongi didn’t immediately turn his head away from the screen but you noticed the way he tilted his head and the slight curve of his lips that told you he had been very aware of you the entire time.

“yoongi…”

you called out but your voice came out more breathy than you intended as you took in his clean male scent.

“hmm?”

he responded as his free hand reached out instinctively, fingers brushing along the side of your bare thigh, stroking it making you shiver.

his voice was always so deep that sometimes that was all you needed to hear to get horny.

you could never get enough of his voice.

“what's up baby? you’ve been squirming over there for a while now.”

he was almost amused still typing something on his keyboard as if he could read every single dirty thought running through your mind without even needing to look at you fully.

you swallowed hard as your finger twisted the edge of your panty.

“i… i know you've been working for a while and i can't stop looking at you in those glasses.”

you let out in a rush shyly but don’t admit how crazy it has been driving you as you look at him with half lidded eyes.

a chuckle rumbled out of him as he spun his chair around to face you properly, one of his eyebrows arched.

he scanned your face and then went down taking in the way your curves are right there for him to stare at, barely clothed in anything.

“yeah? you really like them that much huh?”

he never thought you'd get this worked up from watching him work as he leaned back slightly in his chair, spreading his legs a little wider in invitation.

the silver rings on his fingers were visible to you as he rested one hand on his thigh.

“i do… a lot.” you whispered.

biting down on your lower lip as your pussy clenched emptily.

“you look so… dominant like this.”

his gaze darkened noticeably behind his glasses as the word “dominant” left your lips.

“such a good girl for admitting it...” he praised and you let out a shaky breath.

“since you're so distracted by my glasses and can't seem to sit still… maybe i should give you a much closer look and take care of you while i keep my glasses on, you like this idea?”

his other hand adjusted his glasses with that same middle finger push you loved so much and this time he did it almost cockily.

“yes..” you moaned softly.

“come here mama.”

he patted his thigh once with his palm gesturing to where he wants you without words.

you moved between his spread legs without a second thought but instead of simply sitting on his lap, you leaned down first capturing his lips for a quick kiss without being able to help yourself.

he deepens the kiss immediately as his hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, fingers curling into your hair possessively.

you mewled into his mouth as you tasted the coffee he had been sipping earlier along with the unique taste he always has as his tongue brushed against yours, your hands resting on his broad shoulders for balance.

“yoongi... your work—” you started, glancing at the open laptop.

when he finally pulled back just enough to speak, both of your breaths mingling together.

“work can wait a little while.. my baby needs my attention right now which is more important.” he lets out roughly.

he had no heart to ignore that pretty pussy which was calling for him.

he was aware of it.

he picks you up until your feet dangle above the ground making you gasp at the way he always manhandles you effortlessly, his hand between your armpits as he settles you over the very edge of his large desk.

your heart pounded at the feeling of your warm thighs settling over the wooden desk.

papers and a notebook shifted under your weight and the mouse slid a bit as your hip brushed against it but yoongi didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

he rolled his chair forward until he was positioned perfectly between your now spread things.

“spread your legs wider for me sweet girl, let me see you...”

you obeyed, your breathing already coming out faster in anticipation as you watched him hook his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly drag them down your legs before he tossed them carelessly aside onto the floor somewhere beside him.

“mmph.”

you let out a whimper as the studio air hits your now exposed cunt, your glistening folds visible to him.

“look at this pretty pussy.”

he murmured reverently with appreciation as he leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning over your mound making you pant in excitement.

“so fucking wet and swollen for me... you're dripping all over my desk already and i haven't even touched you properly mm?”

his filthy words made your cheeks turn redder as you nodded, unable to deny how desperately aroused you felt.

“yes... it's all because of you and those glasses.” you croaked out shamelessly.

no longer having the restraint to keep your feelings hidden.

“i've been aching for hours.”

a coy look takes place in his face as he starts leaving open mouthed kisses along your inner thigh, each one making your skin tingle also leaving remnants of his saliva as you writhe.

his free hand rested on your other thigh thumb rubbing teasing circles that inched ever closer to your center without quite reaching it while he kept his eyes on you, a grin on his lips from your reaction.

when his mouth hovered directly over your twitching clit that was so engorged it had escaped from its hood, he paused there just letting his breath brush against it.

knowing it makes you a little mad.

he could never get enough of having you in this state and all open for him so he always takes his time, having the privilege of being your man which he can never fully believe.

he's always thankful for having you so he never misses any opportunity to worship you.

“yoongi... please don't tease me too much.”

you begged as your hands gripped the edge of the desk tightly.

“shh i got you baby. i'm gonna take my time with this little pussy because you deserve it.”

he whispered against you and then without further warning, his tongue which has always been incredibly skilled since the beginning of your relationship like it has a mind of its own, knew how to move in the exact way to please you.

it knew you better than yourself.

he dragged a long stripe from your dripping entrance all the way up to your throbbing clit.

“uh—ahh fuck yoongi... that feels so good.” you cried out.

your head tilts back with parted lips and he hums in approval which travels straight to your core making your walls flutter around nothing.

“mhmm you taste so fucking perfect baby... so ready for my mouth always.”

he can never get enough of the amount of honey you produce for him, he holds your plump folds apart to see more dribbles of your creamy mess leaking one by one.

“shitt.” he cursed in a dreamy sign from the way your pussy responds to him.

his tongue explored every inch of you slowly, circling your clit with quick flicks and then capturing the bud between his lips before releasing it with a wet pop and flicking it with his tongue and then sucking again.

“oh god..” you whined.

he can probably spend an entire day playing with your clit with his tongue and fingers like it's a little button.

one of his hands slid upwards under your flimsy top to cup a breast and roll the hardened nipple between his fingers with just enough pressure to double the sensations for you.

“mm... ah...”

your moans grew louder not being able to stop yourself as one of your hands fisted his hair while your legs kept his head trapped between your thighs.

“keep making those pretty noises for me… yeah… let me hear exactly how much you love my tongue on you.”

your body responds automatically as your hips rock subtly against his face.

“uh… uh… uh… yoongi your tongue feels—”

your words get interrupted with a sequel as another particularly skillful flick of his tongue lands on your clit making your back arch almost entirely off the table.

he looks up at you never stopping his mouth, drinking in your expressions as the wet noises and your whimpers of satisfaction fill the room obscenely.

it was so erotic.

and suddenly everything felt hot from the way both of you started sweating.

yoongi continued focusing on your clit using the pointed top of his tongue for a more targeted stimulation, knowing how much you love it.

like the perfectionist he was, he changed his motions based on your reactions.

you fisted one of his work sheets, unknowingly crumbling it which he didn't mind because he started eating you out even faster.

his fingers eventually joined the assault too, two digits probing your slit circling the slick opening before finally pushing inside your tight cunt in one thrust and you were so wet that he slipped even deeper on his own.

“ohh!”

you let out a surprised sob at the sudden stretch even though he's fingered you over a hundred times now but still now the feeling of his long fingers took your breath away.

his fingers immediately curled in that spongy spot deep inside you.

“fuuuuck yess right there! gosh yoongi, your fingers… it feels s-so good!”

you cried out loudly which sounded so much louder in the room as your pussy clenched on him once again.

the combination of his tongue on your clit and the way he keeps on pumping his fingers in and out of you has you murmuring nonsense into your hand.

you gripped the table so hard, your knuckles turned white.

sclick. sclick. sclick.

your pussy makes pornographic noises from the amount of arousal you keep on making and it is coating his hand now too, also dripping on the desk beneath you.

he groaned against your pussy, pulling away for a bit to talk but still with his mouth pressed against your labia.

“that's my good girl… so tight and greedy..”

a quiet overwhelmed scream left you when he added a third finger stretching you to your limits, increasing the pace just enough to push you to the edge without letting you tip over yet.

his glasses were starting to fog up from the heat and his own labored breaths.

the sight of it only heightened the moment for you.

“yoongi your glasses… they're getting all foggy from me.”

you panted between desperate moans as you watched him continue devouring you.

“ugh i can'tt.”

you whined as he kept on thrusting, scissoring his fingers while rubbing that soft spot deep inside your pussy like he's inspecting you on the inside.

he lifted his gaze to meet yours and you could see the lust in his eyes even though they were partially hidden behind the clouded lenses.

“yeah that's good isn't it? means i'm eating this pussy exactly right. you like seeing me like this? all foggy because of how wet and hot you are for me?”

he encourages you further with his murmurs against you as his fingers curl harder and faster now, directly sucking onto your clit as if he wants something to come out of it.

you couldn't take it anymore.

you were losing your mind.

from his words, every thrust, every suck, from his whole presence alone.

“i'm so close ahh please don't stop yoongi! i'm gonna cum so hard..”

tears welled in your eyes as your entire body tensed with the impending release.

“not yet mama. hold it just a little longer for me.”

he growled against your folds, slowing his movements for a few seconds to keep you teetering right on the edge and to keep you crying for a bit more.

then he sped up again relentlessly, three fingers thrusting deep and fast while also using his nose to grind up straight between your folds.

that's it. it happened like that.

your whole body seized and shook as the orgasm crashed over you and you crumble more of his papers on the desk and even making some files fall but you were too deep in it to notice.

“yoongi shitt i'm—i'm cumming! ahhuh yes yes oh god!” you let out a choked scream.

your cunt clenched around his fingers, fluttering weakly as gushes dripped down his hand and messily pooled on his desk.

your moans turned into cries as you clamped his head tighter between your legs and you tried to stop yourself, scared that you'd suffocate him but he grunted lowly holding you closer, which signaled how much he loved to be crushed by you.

he kept on licking and fingering slowly through the aftershocks until you were pushing his head away while letting out murmurs dumbly.

when the peak finally began to ebb leaving you breathing heavily, did yoongi slowly withdraw his fingers.

a snarl escaping him as he sat back in his chair with his chest heaving.

he held the glossy fingers up proudly and he sucked them clean while looking at you with hooded eyes, his tongue working around as you whimpered.

his glasses were completely fogged up now.

the only thing that was missing was his glasses soaked with your essence… it was one of your dirty fantasies.

and you wanted to do it.

even though you felt boneless from cumming as your body twitches with renewed interest.

you looked down at him through your post orgasmic haziness, still trying to catch your breath.

“yoongi...” you cooed almost.

“can i… can i cum on your glasses this time? i wanna rub myself all over them and make an even bigger mess… please.” you breathe out.

even in your ears, it sounded so naughty.

his eyes widened for a bit before a slow smirk took place on his lips, his tongue coming out to lick at his bottom lip slowly where there were still remnants of your release.

he pushed his chair back slightly to give you space as he gripped your thighs.

“you want that baby?”

you nod eagerly with flushed cheeks.

“please...”

he lets out a hoarse laugh, closing his eyes for a bit before fixing it on your face.

“god what am i supposed to do with this dirty girl huh?” he says so adoringly that it makes you feel giddy on the inside.

“come here then use my glasses however you want. soak me, grind your cum all over the lenses... whatever you want mama.”

he helped you slide off the desk on still shaky legs and straddle his lap.

your breasts rises and falls at his words and the way he always treats all your needs as if they were his own, always exploring whatever the other wants with no judgment.

because both of you were just as filthy and downbad for each other.

that's why people say you both just fit so well.

you shuddered when your sensitive pussy hovered just above his obvious bulge that held his rock hard cock.

but he was so focused on you and making you feel good to even notice that.

instead of making you sink down on him, he placed an arm under your butt and picked you up making your legs wrap around his waist as he carried you to the couch before he settled down on it first.

he tilts his head back just enough, holding your hips steady as he looks up at you expectantly.

“go on pretty baby, rub that slutty pussy right on my glasses… mm i wanna feel every bit of it.”

the command makes your legs squeeze together as you look down at him with parted lips, your hair framing your face.

he crooks a finger in your direction so you'd come and sit right on his face.

“don't make me ask twice y/n.”

you shivered at him calling your name, he only does that when he is in his serious and strict mood.

it always makes you weak in the knees.

you didn't waste time and lowered yourself carefully until your slick folds made direct contact with his glasses.

the glass against your already overheated clit created an entirely new and different feeling.

“oh... gosh gahh yoongi... it feels weird… but so good.”

you moaned sharply, your legs settling firmly on either side of his face as he gripped your ass cheeks parting them for better access.

your hips begin to rock on their own experimentally smearing your arousal across his frame, making the glasses even more opaque as your release began to run down the sides.

he gave your ass a firm squeeze as he watched you with feral eyes.

“that's it… just like that… you're doing so well… does it feel good having my lenses rubbing against your clit hmm?”

he asked with genuine curiosity as your whines grew louder and more shakier, even you couldn't fathom that you could make such wanton noises.

“yess nghh... i-it feels amazing… knowing it's your glasses makes it so much better uh...”

he lets out an animal growl at your words, another one of his favorite things during moments of intimacy is your honesty.

your hips shuddered because you're already sensitive from the orgasm you had just a few minutes ago so it made you a little weak as your hands dug into his chest grabbing the fabric of his hoodie.

he kneaded your ass and landed a sharp spank, making you sob as he helped guide your movements up and down when he realized you're slowing down.

it was so lewd.

like you're nothing but just a sex doll and you're releasing so much liquid that it didn't take much effort, too, you were slippery enough to glide all over his glasses.

you were swimming in pleasure.

you selfishly wanted more and everything all at once.

“more… more… please more…”

“keep going mama... cum whenever you want to… make a fucking mess.” he urged.

he whispers praises for you as your tongue lolls out in ecstasy, sweat forming on your forehead as he rubs your back soothingly while your clit is getting all the unique frictions from the edge of his glass.

it felt too much like you wanted to escape from it, yet want more and more.

you yelped as you saw a bit of your arousal land on his eyelid.

“oh no! i'm sorry i'll—”

he stilled you with one hard grip on your waist as he glared up at you.

“don't you dare stop, it doesn't matter… you're not stopping.” he rasps out.

a tear streams down your face in pleasure when his tongue comes out to catch a droplet of you.

“b-but i don't want you getting hurt.. it's going to get inside your eyes.”

“continue.”

that's all he said, just that single word in his strict voice.

you knew he wasn't going to listen otherwise so your hips moved on their own.

you let out breathless cries as he guided you to move faster, your hips quivering so much you thought they'd give out.

“i can't i can't, oh god oh god, fuckk going to, going to cum.. c-cum—!” you hiccuped.

“do it, cum hard for me… come on.”

he demanded as his tongue lapped up at you in the most delicious way.

the second orgasm hits you suddenly that you had to grip the couch to steady yourself as spurts and spurts of your essence left you, hitting him all over the face.

you felt so guilty, but you couldn't stop yourself as it soaked his lips and glasses and all over.

“ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh—!”

you cried out repeatedly, hips grinding through the climax until your body had no more energy and he guided you slowly until your forehead rested against his.

both of you breathing heavily.

after several long moments of shared breathing, yoongi removed the thoroughly ruined glasses from his face which were completely glistening with cum.

thoroughly ruined and marked.

now that the high has left you, you let out a mortified whimper at how nasty you've been and hide your face on his chest making him chuckle lowly.

he sets them aside and wraps both of his arms around you, pulling you closer into his chest.

“damn baby... you really did a number on them didn't you?”

he rubbed loving patterns on your back and you laughed breathlessly, still riding the feeling from multiple orgasms.

“sorry... not sorry.”

you got carried away and you knew it but couldn't help it.

it isn't your fault that he was so hot.

he nuzzled his face on your neck planting kisses along your cheeks and throat as you did the same to him, tasting your own release there even though he didn't attempt to wipe you off him.

he liked having you get him all messy on him.

he titled your chin up with his finger to capture your lips in a slow kiss that allowed you to taste yourself more intimately as you both groan together from it.

your hearts beating hard together and so damn connected.

“don't ever apologize for getting needy like that for me, i love it when you lose control because of something as simple as my glasses you got it?”

he looks straight into your eyes so he makes sure you're getting each of his words.

“it means i'm doing my job right.”

he grumbles against your mouth and you let out a happy sound.

he never fails to make you feel so adored and desired.

after a few more minutes of just cuddling and talking about silly stuff basking in each other and the smell of sex, did yoongi's attention finally land on the laptop screen that was still glowing with the work he had to eventually return to.

even though he'd love to spend time with you instead, take you to bed and fuck you right up and he was aching inside his jeans.

he wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine and make you wait.

making you impatient always brings out the best outcome and he also wanted to finish all his work before he could concentrate on you fully.

after a while he helped you off his lap making you pout but it soon melts away when he helps you put on the fluffy pink blanket over your legs after wiping you clean gently with tissues and even his face in the process.

your panties were too ruined for you to wear them again and he wanted you bare underneath.

he adjusted your top so you felt comfortable again, he then picked you up with the blanket wrapped around you like a roll of burrito and settled you over his lap on the chair.

he didn't want you away from him.

he gave you that lazy knowing smile, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“think i can get back to work now? or are you gonna distract me again?”

he teased, thumbing your cheek while his other hand moved for the mouse.

“hmm... depends.”

you pretend to think as you settle against his chest with a contented sigh, feeling all comfy with him.

“maybe... but no promises after i clean those glasses for you to wear them again… i might need another closer look later.” you say cheekily.

he laughs hoarsely and shakes his head.

“such a brat huh? but i wouldn't have you any other way.”

the rest of the afternoon went on like that with your eyes half open, focusing on his work that you barely understood while he gave you touches occasionally.

sometimes leaning down to kiss any part of your exposed skin until you almost purred like a kitten being petted.

this was what he lived for.

you all wrapped in him while he did his tasks, just happy to have you there and he couldn't be anywhere else in the world.

he was the luckiest man alive.

“i love you lot baby, you know that?”

you let out a small breath and cupped his cheek, placing a kiss on his nose making his eyes close with a smile.

“i know… but i love you more.”

he opened his eyes with a mocking glare.

“impossible.”

his hand brushed on the ticklish side of your stomach, making you giggle and squirm.

and you knew in your heart without any of his words spoken because his eyes spoke.

promising that the night was far from over.

that he was gonna give you all the attention you want afterward.

you couldn’t wait.

perm. taglist : @chaelvrx @slutology00 @furioustrashlover @kelsyx33 @kooever @svnbangtansworld @xcviis @snuglymalicioussea @nellbyy @minewlove @l4yl44 @captainengineer-trixie @cristy-101 @fangirl-coco-goddess @lachesismoonmist @angelfuzzy2 @levisnumber1 @angelsdecalcomania @magicalnachocreator @hynjamkook @koodollylvr @withmuchluv-tannie @istarag @elmarimochi9513 @wtfanu @kooklv @endlesslysassy @tatamicc @armybomb-infires @jiniminisworld @seokjinthescientist @gyeomibearr @xmiaacxio @n0chuprettykook @gizaspicebag @aaclariww @dollytingz @kskskskskskskskss @imjustcrabby @jeonette @mrskimjoon

Jungkook sighed, his lip ring clanking against his teeth as he pulled his bottom lip inward. “Can we talk inside? I really don’t wanna do this in your hallway.” He pleaded. Jungkook was never truly the confrontational type, which contradicted you because you in fact were the confrontational type.

You huffed, brushing past him to unlock your apartment door. Once both of you were inside, you shut the door firmly. Jungkook immediately walked to your couch and sat down, patting the cushion beside him as an invitation for you to sit. You hesitated for a brief moment before giving in, placing your plushy and purse on the table.

You sat beside him, hands clasped tightly in your lap, avoiding eye contact. The tension in the silence was thick. “So... why weren't you at work today? It's not like you to miss a shift.” he finally started. You fiddled with your fingers, scrambling for an excuse for your absence. “I….umm… went to the Daegu fair,” you admitted, only fabricating the truth just a tad. "With Mina."

Jungkook tilted his head, a frown forming his lips. "You did a no-call, no-show to go to the Daegu fair? What were you thinking?" he asked, ready to lecture you. You certainly weren't in the mood to hear it, especially from him. Not now. It felt like he was deliberately trying to pivot away from the real issue at hand; your relationship and his cold, dead silence.

"I was thinking I wanted to have some fun, and not sit at work wondering why the man I care about ghosted me for two days." you snapped. This brought the brunet down a notch, making him exhale heavily. The room fell silent once again, but not for very long. "Look, I'm sorry," Jungkook said. "It's just... we've been best friends since we were kids and–"

“And you still only see me as that." You cut him off.

"No," he countered sternly. "What we have is special because of our history. We got to be best friends before having a romantic connection, which is rare. You're not like any girl I've dated. You’re much more to me. I don't want to mess this up. I don't wanna lose you. I can't. The thought terrifies me because I’m losing more than my girl, I’m losing my best friend too,"

Your eyes finally connected with his, your demeanor softening at his words. "I want our first time to be special," he continued. "I don't want it to be random sex like I’m used to. I want your first experience to be your best experience.”

You sighed, nodding your head. "You're right. It should be special..." you replied. You understood Jungkook's view; it was sweet, and it showed just how much he truly valued you. You appreciated his sentiment, but you were still frustrated. Sexually frustrated. You were ready for more. It was easy for Jungkook to sideline sex when he’d been having it since high school. Meanwhile, you, the innocent virgin, had spent all this time waiting for your first crush to choose you. Now that he finally has, the reward feels slightly lackluster.

"I'm sorry," you finally said. You weren't entirely sure if you meant it, but for now, you just wanted to put the drama behind you. Jungkook smiled, taking your hands in his, and you gladly let him. "I missed you," he said. "It doesn't feel right not talking to you every day."

You returned a genuine smile. "The feeling is mutual. But if you ever ghost me again, prepare for me to come to the tattoo shop with a vengeance." You playfully squinted your eyes at him.

Jungkook chuckled, nodding his head. "I wouldn't expect anything less." He says. After a moment of silence the brunet’s eyes flicked behind you, catching sight of the new plush toy sitting on top of the table. “Nice plushie,” he smirked, knowing all too well how much you loved anything Hello Kitty related. “Guess you and Mina had a good time at the fair, huh?”

You followed his gaze to the plushie. “Yeah… surprisingly, I did.” You chewed on your bottom lip, your mind suddenly miles away, fixed on the raven.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up today after ditching without a call," Jimin said, a smirk plastered on his face as he stepped out of the kitchen with two glasses of water. "The old man's gonna have a field day." He was joking, but there was truth to it.

You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. You knew a lecture was coming, along with an endless amount of dish and bathroom duty. Possibly even termination. Mr. Kim hated when staff called in, but he especially loathed it when they didn’t.

"I’m nervous as it is," you said. "Did Mr. Kim say anything to you about me?"

"To me? No," Jimin replied, setting the glasses down at the table he was waiting on. "But you know how he is about punctuality. No exceptions."

You rubbed the nape of your neck and slowly shuffled toward the back of the kitchen to meet your doom.

“Good luck!” Jimin teased.

God, what would you do if you lost your job at Makoto? The job market was brutal right now, and finding new employment wouldn’t be easy. You were terrified of the domino effect that would follow.

Mr. Kim noticed you immediately upon entering the kitchen, but to your surprise, he only nodded in your direction. "Good evening, y/n. Glad to see you came in today," he said calmly before dusting his hands on his apron. “Hurry up and clock in, Jimin could use some assistance out there.”

Your eyebrows scrunched. ‘That’s it? No yelling? No speech? What's his angle?’ you wondered hesitantly.

“O-oh, uh… of course…” you stammered. You grabbed your time card and swiped it through the clock. You glanced back at Mr. Kim, who handled the orders just as he did on any other day. But today shouldn’t have been like ‘any other day’. It should have been a day of reckoning for ditching work yesterday, yet Mr. Kim didn’t even seem to care. You decided that you would just rip the bandage off and bring it up yourself.

"Hey, Mr. Kim, about not calling in yesterday…" you started, but the old man instantly cut you off.

"Don't worry about it, kid! It happens." He said, quickly dismissing the conversation.

You stood stunned. This was certainly unlike your boss. Mr. Kim could be kind when he wanted to be, but when it came to work, he was a stickler for the rules. As Jimin had said, there were no exceptions.

You wondered what could have made him so nonchalant about a no-call, no-show, until suddenly, Yoongi's voice flashed through your mind.

"Don't stress about that, princess. I'II deal with your boss after the fact."

Could it be that Yoongi had actually followed through? It was the only explanation for Mr. Kim's uncharacteristic behavior. Even though the raven had said he’d handle it, you hadn’t honestly believed him. You didn’t think Yoongi could actually hold that kind of power over someone as headstrong as Mr. Kim. It left you wondering what else, exactly, that man could control.

Nevertheless, you smiled slightly to yourself, knowing he had used that power to keep your job intact. You grabbed an apron from the hook, along with a notepad and pen, preparing to head out to the floor. Just then, Jimin walked in, his expression uneasy. “What’s your problem?” You ask him, an eyebrow perched.

"T-table three wants you to take their order instead of me," the brunet said.

You didn't even need to question why; his unease told you exactly who was sitting at table three. You nodded, tying your apron around your waist. Jimin exchanged a look with Mr. Kim behind you before you headed out to the dining floor. To your lack of surprise, there sat Yoongi and Joon across from each other. You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, a small smile trying to peek through.

"There's my favorite waitress," the raven smiled as you approached. His left arm rested casually on the back of his chair.

You squinted at him, folding your arms across your chest. "Looks like someone’s too anxious to wait until tonight," you stated.

Yoongi shrugged. “What can I say? You make me feel like I’ve got a school crush. I want to see you whenever I can.” He smirked, biting down on his bottom lip.

You rolled your eyes, but inside, butterflies were already beginning to flutter. “Are you two here to order, or are you just here to cause trouble?” you asked, quickly changing the subject. You didn’t want to look like you actually enjoyed Yoongi’s presence, not with Jimin lurking nearby. He had a big mouth, and before you knew it, Jungkook and Mina would find out that there was something unspoken forming between you and Yoongi.

“I don’t know about the boss man here, but I could go for some Jjajangmyeon and a cool bottle of soju. Don’t bring me any of that warm shit,” Joon said.

You eyed the lanky man. “We don’t serve alcohol here,” you stated dryly.

“Well, that’s a fucking buzzkill. What do y’all serve here?”

“You can try looking at the menu in front of you.” You snarked. You couldn’t help the smart remarks when it came to Joon. He simply rubbed you the wrong way, Yoongi’s right-hand man or not. You didn’t like him.

Joon smirked, your snarkiness having no bearing on him. “Someone’s testy today. This isn’t very good customer service,” he joked, though he picked up the menu nonetheless. He scanned through the drink section before closing it. “I’ll take a cola,” he said.

You wrote down his order, then turned to Yoongi, who seemingly hadn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time. “And you?”you questioned the raven.

“I’ll take some water, sweetheart. I didn’t come here for the food.” The raven said.

You nodded, not needing to write it down. As you collected their menus from the table, you hesitated. “Hey, um…” you started, keeping your voice low. “Thanks for actually talking to my boss. You seriously saved me from getting fired.”

Yoongi tilted his head slightly. “You said ‘actually’ as though you had no faith in my word. You didn’t think I’d talk to your boss?” he questioned.

“You want me to be honest?”

“That’s all I ever want you to be with me, sweetheart.”

“Okay then,” you nodded, keeping your voice hushed so you wouldn't be overheard. “No. I didn’t think you’d talk to my boss. I thought it was just a little lie you told to get me to come with you yesterday.”

The raven smirked at your doubt. “One thing you need to learn about me, princess, is that my word is bond. When I say I’m gonna do something, I do it.” He held his smirk, but there was something beneath it now, something entirely serious. Dangerous, even.

And you liked it. Shamefully.

"Noted," you said, your gaze locked with his dark, intense eyes. Before the moment could stretch any further, the bell above the front door chimed, snapping you back to reality. "'I’ll be right with you-" The customer service voice died in your throat. You froze as you turned around, coming face to face with a familiar brunet.

"J-Jungkook?" You stuttered. “What’re you doing here?”

Jungkook's smile vanished as he looked past you, spotting Yoongi sitting there. He squinted, a hard edge replacing his previously soft expression. "I'm on my break... thought I'd come in to see you." His eyes remained glued to the raven. "What the hell is he doing here?"

You looked back at Yoongi, his eyes dark and intimidating as they always were, his glare on Jungkook vicious. "They're, uh... ordering food," you said. You could feel people in the restaurant starting to stare, Jimin included.

"I think they need to order food somewhere else," Jungkook spat, his gaze hardening on Yoongi.

"Is that right?" The raven finally spoke, his voice dangerously monotone.

"You trying to start somethin', chief?" Joon chimed in, shifting in his seat, fully prepared to back Yoongi. “Because we don’t have a problem sending you out on a stretcher.”

You shivered at those words. Knowing there was no way this situation would end well for Jungkook, you quickly stepped in. Grabbing the bushy haired man by the arm, you pushed him away from their table and steered him toward an empty one across the restaurant."Are you trying to get yourself jumped?" you asked, keeping your voice low as you questioned the brunet.

Jungkook scoffed. "I'm not scared of those pussies like everyone else. Especially when it comes to you." He finally pulled his gaze away from their table and onto you. "You okay? Is he still harassing you?" he asked.

You sighed. You understood Jungkook's frustration with seeing Yoongi. After everything you had told him about your first encounter with the raven, plus his murdered friend having some type of connection to him, you could imagine why he was so bold.

"They're really just here to eat, and no matter how much disdain I have for someone, I still have to act on a professional level while at work. I don't think fighting helps my case."

The brunet ran his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply. "You're right. I'm sorry," he apologized, his hand reaching out to gently rub your arm.

"Don't worry about it, okay? Just sit down and order something. You came here for me, right?" You smiled, hoping that would bring his mood back up. The brunet grinned back, unable to stay angry when you were in his presence. "Right," he agreed, taking a seat at the table you had escorted him to."My focus is on you, beautiful." He placed a hand on your hip.

You could feel the cold stare burning into your back, the raven glaring daggers in your direction.You didn't bother to look back as you kept your attention on Jungkook.

"Hey, waitress," Yoongi's voice suddenly chimed behind you. You turned around. "Is this how your boss runs his establishment? How about instead of fucking around with your little boyfriend, you get us our orders?" There was venom in his voice when he spat the word “boyfriend”. Of course, no one could spot it except you– and maybe Joon. You scowled at the raven for calling you out so loudly.

"Hey," Jimin whispered, quickly walking up to Jungkook's table. He nudged your shoulder. "You take care of their orders, and I'll take Jungkook's. I don't wanna know what those guys will do if they have to wait any longer."

You complied, not wanting to take that chance and find out either. Leaving Jimin to handle Jungkook, you headed back into the kitchen and ripped the order from your notepad to hook it onto the ticket line. "The hell is going on out there?" Mr. Kim asked, frowning.

"Nothing anymore. Jimin and I have it under control," you assured him as you grabbed two cups from the dish shelf. Moving toward the beverage station, you filled both cups with ice before pouring their respective drinks. You marched back out to the dining room and set the cups down on Yoongi's table. "Satisfied?" you asked the raven.

"Not nearly," he grimaced. "What would satisfy me right now would leave you devastated, sweetheart." His voice was calm, but his words were dark. You chose not to push, truly not wanting to know what he meant by that. "Your food should be out shortly," you said to Joon, deliberately avoiding the raven’s eyes.

You turned around, leaving Yoongi and Joon alone at their table. Spotting Jungkook waving you over, you walked up to the grinning brunet with a playful sigh. “Yes, trouble?” you asked. He rolled his eyes at the newfound nickname. “I was thinking… How about a movie night tonight? I think we’re overdue for one.” he suggested. You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “You mean a repeat of last time? Because unless my memory is failing me, that was an absolute disaster.”

"Yeah, well, this time will be different. After our talk last night, I'm hoping we both have a better understanding of our feelings," he said, taking your hand in his. You tilted your head, biting the inside of your cheek. Even if you did want to give in to his movie night plan, you couldn't. You already had plans with a certain black haired man tonight.

"You know, I'd love to, but I already made plans with Mina tonight,” you lied, offering a convincing smile. "She wants us to have a whole girls' night in. Makeup, nails, talking about our relationships. The whole works."

Jungkook pouted. "First the fair, now a girls' night? I'm beginning to think Mina is stealing my girl." He joked.

You giggled, rolling your eyes at the brunet. "Don't be so dramatic," you said. "We always have tomorrow night."

“Fine,” Jungkook relented, tossing a look of fake defeat your way. “I didn't wanna watch your cheesy movies tonight anyway.”

You gasped, slapping a hand over your heart as if deeply offended. “You love my cheesy movies.”

"No, I love you. There's a difference," Jungkook said.

The words hung heavily in the air between you, and you instantly froze. The words echoed in your mind, catching you entirely off guard. Jungkook had never confessed his feelings so plainly before. You had practically a lifetime of history together as best friends, but hearing him say those words out loud changed everything in an instant. You stared at him, speechless. Realizing exactly what he had just admitted, Jungkook's eyes widened, and a dark blush rapidly overtook his face.

"S-so tomorrow night?" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he scratched the nape of his neck in pure embarrassment.

"Uh-yeah... yeah... see you tomorrow night," you stuttered, your voice trailing off.

You had absolutely no idea how to respond, and your only saving grace was a nearby customer waving you over to request their bill. Seizing the lifeline, you quickly retreated to their table and left Jungkook alone with his thoughts. The moment your back was turned, the brunet squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in his hands as he cussed quietly to himself.

You grabbed the customer's card from the table and turned to go swipe it at the kiosk, but before you could move any further, you noticed Yoongi and Joon preparing to leave. You furrowed your brows; Joon's food hadn't even been served yet. "Um... hello? Did you forget you ordered food?" you questioned the lanky man as they walked past you.

Yoongi didn't say a word, his expression unreadable as he moved toward the exit.

"I think I'll pass on the ramen, Wonder Woman. The atmosphere in this joint kinda makes me sick," Joon said.

You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue as you watched them head for the door, but they didn't leave without throwing one last vicious glare at Jungkook. Jungkook, of course, glared right back.

"See ya around, chief," Joon scowled in his direction before they finally walked out into the street.

You hadn’t received a single text from Yoongi by the time your shift ended. You had been entirely certain the raven would be eagerly waiting the exact second you clocked out, but an hour had already passed since you’d been off. Trying to shake the growing unease, you showered and slipped into a cute little floral dress. It was a stark contrast to the workout outfit you had worn to that first so called “kickback”.

You sighed, staring down at your blank phone screen. Still, there was no call, no text. What was his issue? One minute he’s telling you how he wants to see you whenever he can, and now he was acting like he couldn't care less about the plans he had made. He couldn't possibly be upset about Jungkook, could he? How childish if he was.

A soft knock suddenly sounded at your front door.

‘Finally,’ you thought, a wave of relief washing over you. ‘Took him long enough.’

You walked into the living room and peeked through the peephole. You were fully expecting to see a familiar mess of long, dark hair, but instead, your neighbor, Hoseok, stood on the other side. You hadn't seen much of him since his stare down with Yoongi in the hallway. Pushing down your surprise, you opened the door and greeted him. "Hoseok, hey," you smiled.

Hoseok returned the small smile, but his expression remained entirely serious. "Hey, y/n. Do you mind if I come in?" He asks. You hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward your bedroom where your phone sat in total silence, almost as if Yoongi might choose this exact second to call you. "It won't take too long," Hoseok assured you, his voice gentle but firm, as if he had read your mind completely.

You nodded, opening the door wider for him to enter your apartment before closing it behind him. Hoseok stood there in the entryway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. You had never seen him look so serious; it was actually a little scary. Whenever you ran into him around the building, Hoseok always had a bright smile on his face. Seeing Yoongi that night really seemed to have shattered his entire personality.

“So, how do you know Yoongi?" Hoseok asked abruptly.

"Uh.." You recounted the moment you had first met the raven, remembering how close you had been to stabbing Joon with a pair of chopsticks until Yoongi intervened. "I met him at my job not long ago." You rubbed your arm awkwardly, completely refusing to go into full detail.

"Do you owe him money or something? Are you safe? Is he forcing you to sleep with him?"

He was completely overwhelming you with the sudden barrage of questions. You shook your head quickly, cutting him off before he could say anything else. "Hoseok, no. I don't owe him money, and I'm fine. Yoongi and I are acquaintances, just like I told you last time. That's all."

He furrowed his eyebrows deeply. "That's all? Y/n, you're a sweet girl. I've lived across the hall from you long enough to know that. Why would you ever get into the mix with the likes of him? Do you know who he is? What he does? What he's done to people? Yoongi is dangerous."

"And you know that firsthand, don't you?" you snapped.

Hoseok froze.

"Yeah, I know you used to work for Yoongi. He told me," you continued, crossing your arms. "I also know you two were best friends."

Hoseok clenched his jaw, the silence stretching tight between you. "Yeah, we were. Me, Yoongi, and Joon. We grew up together, started this shit together. But Yoongi got dark. Got money hungry. Wanted to be something more powerful. Now he's a monster... maybe he'd always been a monster deep down." Hoseok's voice trailed off, his eyes clouding over as his mind reminisced about a past he had tried so hard to leave behind. About the friend he once had.

"You grew up with Joon too," you countered. "He's shown me he's more of a monster than Yoongi, yet you hold more disdain for Yoongi. Why?"

When you had first met Joon, he was ready to attack an old couple just for a restaurant table, and then he had turned on you for standing up to him.

Hoseok scoffed. "Because I expected this from Joon. Maybe not to this extent of darkness, but Joon was always trouble. He only started hanging out with us after Yoongi met him in juvie at thirteen. And Yoongi didn't truly start getting into trouble until his parents died, that’s when everything changed."

Your mind drifted back to the fair, recalling what the raven had said about his connection to Joon. It was only after Nam-Joon’s release from juvie that they had all become close.

You sighed. None of this answered why Hoseok was so fearful of Yoongi now. They started their empire together, so Hoseok clearly hadn't had any qualms about the lifestyle back then. Why the sudden change? Curiosity burned in the back of your mind, and you opened your mouth to ask, but before you could, your phone started to ring from the other room.

You rushed to your bedroom, snatching the device off the bed. It was Yoongi. "Is that him?" Hoseok called out from the living room. Ignoring his question, you swiped the screen and brought the phone to your ear. "Hello?"

"I'm outside. Come out, and don't take too long," the raven demanded, his tone clipped. He hung up before you could even draw a breath to reply. You clicked your tongue in annoyance, pulling the phone away from your ear. "Listen, Hoseok, I can't sit here and talk about this right now. I have to go," you said, grabbing your purse off the nightstand.

"That was him, wasn't it?" he asked again, stepping toward your bedroom doorway. You offered no answer. "Look, I know I'm just your neighbor, and I can't tell you what to do, but I don't think you should keep hanging around him."

You shook your head, completely unready to process his warnings right now, but he remained persistent.

"Why do you care so much about what I do?" you retorted, eyeing the brunet. "Why do you care if I hang out with Yoongi?"

"Because you remind me of her."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "Of her? Who's her?"

Hoseok's eyes began to water, a raw pain breaking through his serious facade. "The only woman I've ever loved. She's gone... because of him. He took her just to get back at me, and he got away with it."

"What? What do you mean?"

Before Hoseok could answer, your phone buzzed violently in your hand. It was a text from Yoongi, undoubtedly urging you to hurry the hell up. "I have to go." You muttered, putting the terrifying conversation aside. You walked out to the entryway and opened your apartment door, gesturing for Hoseok to leave first.

He exited into the dimly lit corridor, but he didn't head toward his own apartment. Instead, he stood out in the hallway, his sorrowful eyes heavy upon you as you locked your door. He stared at you like this was going to be his last time seeing you. “Later, Hoseok.” You say, quickly disappearing down your hall.

The cool outside breeze brushed against your bare skin the moment you stepped out of the building. You immediately recognized Yoongi's black Nissan parked at the curb instead of the sleek red one you two had ridden to the fair in. He switched cars like he switched underwear.

Walking around the hood, you opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat. "Took you long enough," the raven grumbled, not even looking at you as he shifted into drive. "I don't have the patience to be kept waiting."

You grimaced at his sour attitude. The absolute nerve of him to complain about a few minutes when he had just kept you waiting for a full hour. You pulled your seatbelt across your chest and buckled it in, and the car instantly surged forward into the night. Silently, you side eyed him, taking in his outfit. He wore a simple black hoodie with dark jeans, a chain clipped to his belt loops. He was a man who clearly adored his silver; another chain hung around his neck, and a couple of silver rings on his fingers. His long, dark hair was artfully messy, framing his face.

You had been expecting the raven to compliment your dress, as he usually never missed an opportunity to praise your appearance, but he stayed entirely silent, keeping his eyes glued to the dark road. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. It was weird not hearing Yoongi speak to you. Usually, you were the one giving him the silent treatment. Clearly, he was in a mood, so you opted against mentioning a single word of what Hoseok had just told you. Though curiosity was burning a hole in your chest, you didn’t want to piss him off any further.

Still, you decided to break the silence anyway, completely detesting the suffocating quiet inside the car. “What were you up to that took you so long?” you asked.

He looked over at you, a single sharp eyebrow raised, before turning right back toward the road without offering a word.

“Okay, don’t tell me then,” you huffed. You crossed your arms, turning your back to him to stare out the passenger window. Usually, the raven would have finally broken down and said something sarcastic by now, but instead, he simply reached forward and flicked on the radio.

You whipped your head around in total shock. What the hell was with this attitude? He was acting like a total child, and for the sake of your own sanity, you refused to let it go on for another second.

“Okay,” you started, your hand immediately darting out to slap the radio knob off. “What's your deal right now? You invited me to this stupid kickback, but now you’re acting like you wish I weren’t even here. I blew off a movie night with Jungkook to come out for you, but if you’re gonna be an asshole, then just take me home.”

Yoongi finally looked over at you, his sharp gaze cutting through the dim light of the car. “You blew off your little boyfriend to be with me?”

You nodded, suddenly finding your fingernails incredibly interesting. "I mean, you asked me first. I didn't want to blow you off after saying I'd come."

Yoongi smirked slightly, nodding his head as he looked back at the road. It was as if your words were a sort of confirmation for him. Suddenly, the atmosphere inside the car didn't feel so suffocating anymore. "You look good in that dress." The raven said.

You bit your bottom lip, desperately trying not to smile at the awaited compliment. “You’re an asshole, you’re aware of that, right?”

“Extremely.”

The car pulled up to the warehouse that you'd come to know so well since getting involved with Yoongi. You noticed that, unlike last time, there weren't any people hanging out outside. No girls dressed in little to no clothing. No one smoking by the entrance. It was noticeably different from the last time.

"Am I gonna go upstairs and see a bunch of people in there?" you asked the raven, peeking out the window.

He snickered, turning off the ignition. "It's just Joon, some of my guys, and whatever bitches they brought. Just like I told you yesterday. Don't worry, sweetheart. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.” He assures you, leaning back in his seat.

"I wish you wouldn't call women 'bitches," you said, a look of dismay crossing your features. “It’s so degrading.”

"My apologies, princess. I'll rephrase that; whatever whores they brought." The raven smirked, leaning across the console to catch your eye. "That better for you?"

You rolled your eyes, pushing your door open to climb out into the cool night air. Yoongi follows. The two of you walk up the stairs to the metal door, your mind flashing to when Yoongi had pushed you against it to give you a speech about how you speak to him. He pulls open the door, letting you walk ahead. You hear laughter and music as you walk up the stairs, and the smell of weed nauseated you. As you reach the main room, you’re amazed by how much different it looks without the load of people blocking every which way.

"Wonder Woman, you came through again!" Joon shouted, raising a solo cup high in his hand.

He was sitting amongst the two guys you recognized from last time, along with two others you hadn't seen before. Each of them had a girl sitting either on their lap or squeezed next to them on the couch. You noticed Sana sitting among the group, though she didn't appear to be there with any specific guy. Her sharp eyes locked onto you the exact moment you walked in with Yoongi.

‘Oh great, she's here…’ you thought dreadfully. This was going to be an absolute blast.

Yoongi walked toward an empty space on the couch, dropping down and patting the cushion right next to him. You sat down beside him, deliberately avoiding Sana's gaze as she continued to stare you down. "Here, have a sip." Joon passed you his cup.

You took it, looking down at the clear alcoholic beverage sloshing inside. "What's this?" you asked him.

"It's tequila."

"Yeah, your favorite. Remember?" Sana asked from across the room, her voice dripping with mock sweetness as she clearly referenced the night you had gotten drunk and danced right here in this very room.

You eyed the bitter woman, refusing to let her get under your skin. Without a word, you tipped your head back and downed the drink. The harsh liquor burned the back of your throat as it went down, but you didn't let your expression falter.

Joon hooted loudly, cheering your compliance as you handed him back the empty cup. "Oh, Y/n, you're my kind of woman, doll," Joon laughed.

"Yeah, my girl surely is somethin'," the raven said, casually resting his arm along the back of the couch behind you. You looked over at him, the urge to correct him and say you weren't his girl rising up, but you chose to let it slide for now, not wanting to make this awkward.

You instantly noticed them passing a blunt around the circle. Once Joon took a couple of hits, he offered it directly to you. You shook your head quickly, gesturing for him to pass it to Yoongi instead.

"Oh, c’mon, it's just weed," Joon insisted, still holding it out. “It ain’t gonna kill you.”

"That's fine. I've just never smoked it before," you said awkwardly, suddenly feeling like a complete amateur sitting in a room full of seasoned drug dealers and users.

"Of course you haven't. You're too much of a goody-goody," Sana remarked. The other girls cracked up, making a sudden wave of heat creep up your neck.

"Nothing wrong with being a good girl. A lot of us men find innocence sexy," Yoongi smirked, stepping in as he took the blunt from Joon's fingers. "Leaves room for corruption."

"I'm just scared of how it'll make me feel, that’s all." You admitted softly.

"It's like alcohol, but a different type of intoxication. Here, I'll help you." The raven shifted his weight, leaning in close as he took a long drag. Holding the smoke trapped in his lungs, he gestured with his free hand for you to move closer. You hesitated for a heartbeat, your breath catching, before leaning forward slowly. Yoongi stopped when he was mere inches away from your face, his dark gaze locking onto your mouth before he began to exhale the smoke, breathing it out little by little. Though you were skeptical, you leaned in the final inch, inhaling the gray smoke as it retreated past his lips.

A harsh cough ripped from your throat the second the smoke hit the back of your sensitive lungs. Yoongi moved back just a fraction, a lazy, satisfied grin spreading across his face as he took in your reaction. "See?" he smirked, his voice dropping an octave. "Corrupting you already."

You stared at the raven, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. The two of you locked eyes, completely forgetting that there was an entire group of people watching your every move.

"Alright, alright, get a room already," Joon teased, snatching the blunt from Yoongi, which didn’t tear away the raven’s gaze. Yoongi kept his eyes firmly on you, entirely unfazed by the audience. "I wouldn't mind getting a room," he said, slowly running his tongue over his bottom lip. You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling his hand begin to roam up your exposed thigh.

You quickly stood to your feet, breaking the contact before he could go any further. "Um, I think I could use another drink. I'm assuming the bottle is in the kitchen?" you asked, pointing toward the doorway and letting out an uncomfortable, nervous laugh.

Yoongi simply nodded, his grin turning cocky at your sudden fluster, clearly overjoyed at being the sole cause of it. You quickly shuffled away and escaped into the kitchen, feeling the anxious tightness in your chest finally begin to disperse the moment you were separated from the heavy atmosphere of the group.

Once your heartbeat finally settled, you grabbed an empty solo cup from the counter. Your eyes scanned the kitchen, landing on a bottle of Don Julio. You grabbed it, pulling the cork out with a sharp pop.

"You and Yoongi look super cozy together." The sudden voice startled you. You turned around to see Sana standing in the entryway, her arms crossed tight over her chest. You hadn’t even heard her sneak behind you.

"So what?" you said, turning your back to her again to pour the tequila into your cup.

"So, I thought you were very adamant about not being into him. Do you recall? Or were you too fucked up that night?"

You whipped back around to face her. "I'm not into him," you snapped, your tone sharp. "He just invited me, so I came. That's it."

It was a bold faced lie; anyone in that room could feel the electric tension between you and the raven. You tried your best to hide it, but then he went and pulled stunts like he just did on the couch, and all your defenses came crashing down. You were attracted to Yoongi. That was a fact you could no longer deny to yourself. But deep down, you knew nothing could ever come of it. You were with Jungkook.

You just hated that you had to keep reminding yourself of that.

“You can say whatever you want, convince yourself of whatever you need, but you can’t convince me,” Sana snarled, her voice dropping to a harsh, mocking tone. “I mean, I don’t blame you. He’s Min Yoongi. Out of all those guys sitting out there, he has a presence that no woman can resist. Clearly not even you, Miss Goody-Goody. Once he gets what he wants from you, then leaves you heartbroken, you’re gonna wish you listened to me.”

With one last judgmental look, she turned on her heel and swept out of the entryway, leaving you completely alone in the quiet kitchen. You quickly downed the burning liquid in your cup, letting it sear your throat as you emptied every last drop before immediately pouring yourself another one. Just as the liquor splashed into the bottom of the solo cup, you heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind. You turned slightly, watching the raven slide effortlessly into the kitchen.

"Slow down there, lightweight," he teased, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he took in the sight of the bottle in your hand. "I don't need you blacking out here."

You glared at him, throwing back the second drink before slamming the cup down onto the counter. "I'm ready to leave."

"What?" The raven raised an eyebrow, his lazy grin instantly vanishing. "We just got here," he stated, pointing out the obvious.

"Yeah, well, I'm not feeling quite like a people person tonight," you muttered, your mind in a million different places. First, there was Jungkook saying he loved you. Then, Hoseok's chilling warning. And now Sana with her crazy jealousy, clearly nowhere near over her past with Yoongi. It was all too much. You’d rather just have been alone to process everything, but Yoongi remained persistent about you staying.

“You don’t have to be. It won’t be too long before the guys dip out to get their nut off,” the raven said, his slow grin returning. He stepped a fraction closer to you, tilting his head to catch your eyes. “Then it’ll just be me and you… unless I’m included in your desire to not be around people right now?”

Naturally, you didn’t mind being around just Yoongi. He was the sole reason you had even come in the first place. But there was always a stubborn moral compass ringing inside your head, reminding you that any feelings you harbored toward the raven were wrong; a complete betrayal not only to Jungkook, but to Mina, too.

Yoongi literally sold coke to Mina's boyfriend, ruthlessly using him as one of his drug mules. Not to mention the terrifying reality that Yoongi had probably killed people, whether indirectly or by his own hands. Though, you weren't entirely sure how true that part actually was. A drug dealer? That fact was completely undeniable. But a killer? Could Yoongi truly be capable of murder? The man you had seen at the fair, the one who had looked at you with soft eyes, and shared a deep moment with you, couldn't possibly be a monster.

“Well, what about Sana?” you asked suddenly.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes narrowing slightly at the random mention of Sana. “What the fuck about her?”

"She's here. Why don't you just have her keep you company?" you scowled, turning back around to pour another drink. But before you could even pop the cork out, Yoongi snatched the bottle completely out of your hand. He didn't say a word at first, his eyes locking onto yours as he set the bottle down on the counter behind him, clearing the distraction out of the way.

“Is that where this little attitude is coming from? Sana? I thought I told you I only fucked her once.”

"I don't care how many times you did. It's none of my business," you lied, keeping your voice tight as you tried to save face. "I just thought I'd make it clear that you have other options and don't need me here."

The raven stared at you for a moment, his riveted look causing you to fidget.

"When are you gonna stop pretending there's nothing here and just give in to me?" Yoongi asked, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur as he took another step toward you. You instinctively tried to back away from him, but the hard edge of the counter pressed against your lower back, leaving you with absolutely no space left to move.

"B-because there isn't.." you stuttered, the denial tasting like ash on your tongue.

Yoongi closed the remaining distance between you two, his hands coming down to rest on the counter on either side of your hips. You were completely sandwiched between the raven and the cold marble surface. Your heart thumped frantically against your chest as he began to lean down toward your lips, his gaze dropping to your mouth. "There isn't?" he questioned, his breath fanning across your skin.

"Yo, Honcho–" Joon’s voice cut through the air as he popped his head through the entryway of the kitchen. He froze for a beat, taking in the sight of the two of you trapped in each other's space, before the corner of his lips pulled into a knowing smirk. “I always seem to pop in on you two at the craziest times,” he teased.

"What is it, Joon?" Yoongi's voice was rough, dripping with irritation at his second in command as he turned his head slightly to look at him, though his hands never left the counter, keeping you securely pinned.

"Me and the guys are gonna dip and handle our due diligence," Joon said, flashing a quick wink. It didn't take a scientist to figure out what he meant. It was exactly what Yoongi had predicted just minutes ago; they were heading out to get their nut off.

Yoongi nodded, but his full, dark attention immediately snapped back to you. "Is Sana still here?" he asked Joon, his eyes tracking the way your chest rose and fell.

"Yeah, she is. Why, what's up?"

"Send the bitch on her way," Yoongi said coldly.

"Say less," Joon complied, stepping backward out of the kitchen and leaving you and the raven completely alone once again.

You could hear his retreating footsteps heading back to the living room, followed shortly by the distant, muffled sound of him telling Sana it was time to go. "There. Problem solved, sweetheart," Yoongi said, finally taking a single step back from you, though his dark gaze never wavered. The raven reached over and grabbed the bottle of Don Julio, shaking it slightly in the air as a lazy smirk crept back onto his face. "Now it's just you and me. So, how about we drink and have a kickback of our own?"

"Then I tried to hop over the fence and my shirt got caught," Yoongi smirked, tucking a stray strand of his dark hair behind his ear as he recounted the first time he went to juvie.

The two of you were easily ten shots in by now, having moved the bottle from the kitchen to the living room couch. You were completely enveloped in a rare state of security. You sat comfortably against the cushions with your shoes discarded on the floor, your legs curled up tightly under you. Yoongi sat close beside you, leaning forward over his knees as he flicked a lighter to life, igniting another blunt.

You giggled at the raven's story, shaking your head. "Why didn't you just try to slip the shirt off?" you asked him.

"I was running for like thirty minutes trying to get away. At that point, I was too tired. I just said fuck it, take me," he chuckled. He shoved the lighter back into his sweatshirt pocket before taking a few deep puffs of the blunt, the tip glowing a dull orange in the dim room. "Anyway, shit happens for a reason. I wouldn't have met Joon if I didn't get caught that day."

Hearing him mention his first encounter with Joon instantly brought you back to Hoseok. You wanted to tell him about your neighbor’s crazy rambling, but you couldn't bring yourself to ruin the tranquil mood. The peace was too fragile; the second Hoseok’s name was even uttered, Yoongi’s entire demeanor would sour.

Yoongi looked over at you, extending his hand with the blunt pinched tightly between his index finger and thumb. "You wanna hit this?" he asked. You looked down at the brown wrap. You hesitated for a split second, but ultimately took the blunt from his fingers, your skin brushing against his.

Putting it to your lips, you took a few light, careful puffs, still too afraid to take massive hits the way Yoongi did. The raven smiled, his dark eyes watching you intensely, as if he expected you to choke if he wasn't being vigilant. "Thatta girl, princess. Shotgunned off of me once and now I got you smoking like a pro," he said proudly, his voice low and laced with satisfaction. You exhaled the smoke, then handed the blunt back to the raven.

"Don't get used to me doing that. I'm just enjoying the moment," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Yoongi shrugged, taking another slow hit from the blunt. "I'm proud either way, angel," he said.

You stiffened slightly at the nickname. You had never heard Yoongi call you that before. It was a term of endearment that belonged entirely to Jungkook. He used it all the time. Suddenly, your mind was flooded with the memory of Jungkook slipping up and saying he loved you at work earlier today, and a crushing wave of guilt washed over your chest. Here you were, hiding away and getting high with Yoongi, while Jungkook mindlessly believed you were just hanging out with Mina right now.

Yoongi's sharp eyes immediately noticed the shift, catching the exact moment you zoned out and went miles away. "You good?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied your face. You debated on whether or not you should tell him what Jungkook had said today. Would he even care?

"Um... Jungkook said he loved me today." You looked over at the raven, your eyes searching his face to read his expression.

Yoongi ran his fingers through his dark hair, nodding his head slowly as if absorbing the news without letting it shake him. "And then what?" he asked, his voice steady as he waited for you to continue further.

"And then... nothing," you shrugged, the weight of the confession making your shoulders feel heavy. "I said nothing when he said it. I feel so horrible." You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face to shield yourself from the quiet of the room. You cared about Jungkook deeply, but these past few days, everything has felt entirely off between you two.

You felt... bored. Like the excitement was lost in the three months of dating. Maybe it took meeting someone like Yoongi to realize that.

"You don't love him," Yoongi stated, his voice flat and certain, as if he personally knew your own feelings and heart better than you did.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, your chest tightening defensively. "What?"

"You don't love him," he casually repeated. He reached over to grab an empty Solo cup from the coffee table, dropping the butt of the blunt inside.

"And how the hell would you know how I feel?" you shot back, trying to summon enough anger to mask the panic rising in your throat.

"Because you're here with me," Yoongi said, leaning back against the cushions and pinning you with an intense look. "You turned down a movie night with him to spend time with me. That alone should tell you something."

You opened your mouth to defend your actions, but the words died in your throat. You couldn't. You were here with Yoongi, and the bitter, undeniable truth was that you didn't regret the decision at all.

You were genuinely enjoying these casual conversations with him. Ever since the Daegu fair, the raven had become entirely humanized in your eyes. Even though he sold drugs and carried a dangerous, mean streak to his name, you liked him.

You liked Yoongi.

The silence in the living room stretched between you, heavy and thick with the smell of smoke, as his words settled deep into your chest. Yoongi just tracked the movement of your lips, waiting, knowing he had trapped you in a corner where lies couldn't save you. So you didn’t attempt it.

You casually looked around, admiring the decor of the warehouse and searching for absolutely anything to change the suffocating topic. Your eyes landed on an all black acoustic guitar hanging neatly on the wall right next to the loft stairs. "That's a cool guitar," you said, motioning toward it.

Yoongi pulled his gaze away from you, tracking your movement until his eyes landed on the instrument. "That's my baby right there. My mom bought it for me before she passed," he said, a genuine, soft smile tugging at his lips at the memory of his mother.

"You play?" you questioned, a little surprised. "I thought it was just for decoration."

"Don't insult me, sweetheart. I don't do things just for the look," he rumbled playfully. He stood up from the cushions, walking over to retrieve the guitar from its mount before coming back to sit down on the couch right beside you. Yoongi began to tune the guitar, his long fingers adjusting the pegs with practiced ease. You were completely surprised he could even function with all the alcohol and weed running through his system, but the substances didn't seem to phase him even a little bit.

The raven strummed the strings to see if the tune was to his liking, the chords ringing out deep and crisp into the high ceilings of the warehouse. Then, his fingers shifted, and he began to play.

You watched him intently. He looked completely relaxed, his dark eyes focused on the fretboard as he plucked out an all too familiar melody—one that immediately made your chest tighten and your heart feel incredibly massive.

Knocking on Heaven's Door by Bob Dylan.

That was your dad's favorite song.

You hadn't heard the song in so long, having avoided it at all costs ever since your parents died. Yet, here Yoongi was playing it, handling the notes as though he could read your heart like an open book. The raven looked up at you, his fingers never missing a single strum despite his eyes locking onto yours. You felt a single tear escape and slip down your cheek. A quiet movement that didn't go unnoticed by him.

Yoongi immediately stopped playing, flattening his palm over the strings to kill the vibration. "You okay? I didn't mean to make you emotional," he murmured, his voice dropping into something genuinely gentle.

You shook your head, sniffing softly as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. "No, you're fine. It's just... that song you played. It reminded me of my dad, that's all. That was his favorite song," you informed him, your voice cracking slightly on the words.

A wave of sympathy softened his sharp features. He carefully set the black guitar down onto the floor, completely discarding it to move closer to you on the cushions. Reaching out, the raven gently brushed the pad of his thumb against your cheek, wiping away the stray tear. “You’re too pretty to cry,” he whispered, his thumb lingering against your skin.

Min Yoongi.

When you first met him, those eyes made you shiver. They were scary, cold, and lifeless; the devil's eyes.

Now, those exact same eyes were looking at you like you were something so precious, something so breakable that he wanted to protect you from any further damage.

The raven's lips inched closer to yours. You followed suit, your breath hitching as your eyes fluttered closed, waiting to finally feel the soft pressure of his lips against yours. When his lips finally do meet yours, it wasn’t the harsh, reckless collision you might have expected from someone like Yoongi. It was soft, slow, and desperately tender. A quiet reassurance that sent a tingle straight down your spine. The faint taste of tequila and smoke lingered between you, blurring the edges of the room until nothing else existed but the warmth of his mouth against yours.

Yoongi’s hand slid from your cheek, his long fingers gently gripping the back of your neck to hold you steady, deepening the kiss with a low, heavy breath. You melted into him, your hands finding themselves on the soft fabric of his sweatshirt as you pulled yourself closer.

Every ounce of guilt, every lingering warning from Hoseok, and the ghost of Jungkook’s confession from earlier today were entirely washed away in the dark, quiet haze of the warehouse.

You found yourself slowly being pushed backward onto the plush cushions of the couch, the fabric of your dress riding up your thighs as Yoongi settled his body over yours, positioning himself flush between your legs.

Yoongi didn't break the kiss for a single second. Instead, his mouth grew hungrier, more possessive, tracing the seam of your lips as his hands left your neck to slide down to your waist, his grip firm and steady as he anchored you to the cushions beneath him. The contrast of his heavy frame pinning you down while treating you like something entirely precious made your breath hitch against his lips, your fingers tightening into the fabric of his sweatshirt to pull him even closer.

The sudden loss of his warmth made you gasp softly as Yoongi pulled his lips away from yours. He remained settled heavily between your legs, his dark eyes locked onto you as he crossed his arms and pulled his sweatshirt over his head in one fluid motion. The silver chain around his neck clanked in the quiet room before settling against his collarbone.

He tossed the discarded sweatshirt onto the floor, leaving him in just a plain white tee. Yoongi paused for a second, his chest rising and falling with hefty breaths as he used a hand to push his messy dark locks back out of his face. The intense, protective gaze was still burning in his eyes, but now it was laced with an undeniable hunger. Leaning back forward, he closed the distance between you once again, crashing his lips back onto yours with a newfound fervor that completely stole the air from your lungs.

The raven rolled his hips against you, the sudden, friction filled pressure making a soft whimper escape your lips. His large hands held your waist securely to the cushions before he pulled his lips away once more, all the while still grinding slowly against you.

"I promise to be gentle with you if you let me," he whispered, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. His hands slid up your sides, the rough texture of his palms catching against the fabric as he began to lift your dress further. A sudden wave of nerves crashed over you at the thought, making your chest tighten. You wanted him. You desperately wanted this, but the guilt was a massive wall standing right in the way.

You had always assumed you would lose your virginity to Jungkook. It was supposed to be safe, familiar, and organically planned. But Jungkook wasn't here.

Yoongi was.

He was right here, hovering over you with a patient hunger, waiting for the words that would change everything between you two.

"Y-Yoongi, we can't. I'm with Jungko-"

The raven clamped a hand over your mouth, stopping you from finishing his name. "I don't wanna hear his fucking name right now," he growled. His hips were still grinding into you, but his pace picked up, the sudden intensity making your breath hitch beneath his palm.

The consistent, heavy motion made your panties rub against your clit, sending a tingle straight down your spine. Yoongi slowly pulled his hand away from your lips, his dark eyes burning down into yours with an absolute, possessive gravity. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll stop," he said, his voice a low command.

You didn't offer the raven any words, just a breathless moan that tore from your throat. A sound that was absolute music to his ears. He smirked down at how needy you looked underneath him, his ego flaring at his total control over you. How could you possibly pretend to not want this when you were coming apart already, and he hadn't even been inside of you yet?

"From the looks of it, you're so deprived that all it’Il take right now is dry fucking for you to cum," he rasped, his voice dropping into a dark, filthy purr that made your stomach completely flip. You couldn't deny it; this simple action really could be enough to cause an orgasm, but deep down, you wanted to go the extra mile with him. "Do it," you whined, your hips blindly tracking his movement as you completely lost your grip on your restraint. "J-Just do it."

That was all Yoongi needed to hear. He stopped grinding into you, pulling back to undo his jeans. He didn't take them fully off, opting instead to pull them down just enough for his hard cock to spring free from his Celine boxers. Your eyes widened slightly, and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you took in the full size and length of him. He was much bigger than you had expected him to be; it was no wonder Sana had a hard time getting over him after their one night stand.

The raven hooked his fingers into the hem of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them onto the floor right next to his sweatshirt. Your dress was still bunched up around your waist, leaving you completely exposed beneath him now. You instinctively tried to close your legs to hide yourself, but with his weight still settled right between your thighs, you couldn't move.

The raven smirked down at your failed attempt to hide, his thighs easily pulling yours further apart, refusing to let you close yourself off. But as he looked down, tracking the panicked rise and fall of your chest and the way you squeezed your eyes shut tight, the smug look vanished. Seeing how scared you were dragged him back to reality, reminding him exactly what this was for you.

Your first time.

The thought alone sent a possessive rush in his veins. You weren’t like the other women he had fucked, then passed around to his crew. You were pure. Untouched. Untainted. Your walls had never been broken, and knowing he was the very first to claim you made him want to lose all control, to pin you down and slam his dick straight into you. But he fought the urge back. He was willing to take this slow. He was willing to be gentle, just like he promised. He wasn't going to force his way in. Not yet.

"Relax for me," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low purr. Bypassing his cock for now, Yoongi reached down, his long fingers finding your slick, dripping heat. He pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit, making you gasp, before he slowly slid a single finger inside of you.

The feeling of his hot skin sliding into you sent an intense, unravelling ache straight to your core. Your inner walls clenched down around him, instantly tight and resistant to the sudden intrusion. Yoongi hissed softly at the brutal friction, the muscle in his jaw feathering as he held himself still. He didn't pull back; instead, he kept his finger buried deep inside you to let your body adapt, while the pad of his thumb began working in small, agonizingly slow circles to coax you open.

A mixture of pain and pleasure flooded your senses. You had never actually inserted anything inside of yourself before, only ever rubbing your clit when you were alone and horny, so this deep, stretching was completely overwhelming. The intensity of the feeling made it impossible to listen to his voice, let alone try to relax.

"Look at me," Yoongi growled, his voice dropping into a rough command as he noticed your breathing hitch. He pressed his thumb a little firmer against your clit, trying to ground you through the sensory overload. "I know it hurts a little, but you need to breathe for me. Let it slip in and out."

Your eyes flutter open upon his command as you try to breathe as told. Slowly, he began to curl his finger inside you, testing your limits and forcing your tight depths to widen for him. The sudden internal hook against your walls completely shattered your concentration, dragging a high, helpless whine from your throat. Your back arched slightly off the couch cushions, your hands clawing blindly into the fabric beside your head as your muscles instinctively clamped down once more around his finger.

Yoongi hissed again through his teeth, his knuckles turning white where his hand rested against the armrest behind your head. The crushing grip of your body around his finger was testing the absolute limits of his control, but he didn't back off. Instead, his gaze darkened with a relentless dominance. "I told you to breathe," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave, rough and completely devoid of room for negotiation.

He leaned more of his weight over you, his lean frame crowding you down and effectively trapping you flat against the cushions. His free hand moved from the armrest to slide up the side of your neck, his thumb bracing firmly under your jaw to tilt your face up. He didn't hurt you, but the grip was ironclad, forcing your eyes right back to his.

With you completely pinned beneath him, the pad of his thumb pressed down hard against your swollen clit, no longer stroking in gentle circles, but applying a heavy, flattening pressure that sent a sudden ache straight through your pelvis. He held it there, demanding your total submission.

"Stop fighting it," he commanded, his eyes burning into yours as he tilted his finger a fraction deeper against your tight walls. "If you can’t take one finger, how’re you supposed to take this dick, huh?” His grip tightens slightly on the side of your neck. “Huh?” he repeated, demanding your answer.

“I-I’m sorry…” you stammered, embarrassment flooding your chest as the weight of his standards settled heavily over you.

Yoongi shook his head at your apology. “Don’t apologize to me, babygirl. Just take it.”

The pet name hits you like a physical shock, melting through the sharp sting of the entrance and sending a completely different kind of heat pooling between your thighs. Hearing him call you that while his frame pinned you to the couch cushions made your heart hammer against your chest. Your fingers twitched against the fabric beside your head, your body instinctively wanting to soften under the sudden warmth of his praise, even as the fullness of his finger remained buried deep inside you, awaiting your compliance.

Your breathing finally began to stutter out in a long, trembling exhale, your chest sinking as you forced yourself to yield to his command. The tense, defensive coil in your hips slowly dissolved into the cushions, allowing the walls of your core to soften and untangle around his finger.

Yoongi watched the change happen in real time, his eyes tracking the exact moment the panic left your expression and your body opened up for him. A low, approving rumble vibrated deep in his chest as the tight friction around his hand gave way to an accommodating heat. "Good girl." he murmured, his voice dropping a quiet praise that made your stomach flutter.

The raven didn't hesitate. Seizing the moment your body relaxed, he slid his thumb out from under your jaw and used his free hand to firmly spread your legs a little wider, anchoring you in place. With a smooth shift of his knuckles, he aligned a second finger against your opening and pushed it straight inside, pairing it alongside the first before immediately driving them deep.

The sudden, thick invasion turned into a heavy, rhythmic thrusting that completely took your breath away. He set a demanding pace right from the start, his wrist moving with practiced precision as his fingers slid all the way in and pulled back just enough to drive right back into your heat. A choked gasp caught in your throat as the friction of two fingers moving deep inside of you stretched your newly softened depths to their absolute limit, the steady, relentless tempo turning the initial ache into an overwhelming fullness.

“Oh fuck–” you cried, your hand mindlessly reaching out to try to grab at his wrist to stop him, but Yoongi smacked it away before you could.

“Don’t touch me,” he growled, the sharp reprimand cutting right through your haze as his fingers kept up their relentless rhythm inside you. Your hand dropped back onto the cushion, your fingers twitching helplessly against the fabric as the pace he was driving into you completely shattered your defenses. Yoongi didn't look down; his dark eyes stayed locked on your face, watching the way your lips parted and your chest heaved with every deep, sliding stroke of his hand.

The slick stretch of two fingers moving in such a demanding, unbothered tempo was turning your embarrassment into a pure, frantic need. He was stretching you out completely, filling you so thoroughly that every push of his wrist sent a hot wave of pressure straight through your hips, forcing you to take every bit of the pace he set.

The relentless, deep pace he was driving into you was rapidly breaking your body down, forcing a thick moisture to coat his skin. Within moments, the fullness of his two fingers began to pump your arousal out, the glossy wetness overflowing your tight opening until it completely drenched his fingers and smeared across the back of his hand.

Yoongi let out a low, gritty sound at the wet squelch of his movements echoing in the quiet room as his knuckles repeatedly pressed against your drenched entrance. The messy, excessive warmth of your own body coating his hand only seemed to make him get rougher, using your own lubrication to drive his fingers even deeper, thoroughly stretching you out until you were dripping against his skin with every single stroke.

The raven’s dark eyes narrowed as he tracked the erratic shudder of your chest, his fingers still ruthlessly working inside you to draw out every drop of your wetness. The sight of you completely undone, trembling on the verge of a breakdown, stripped away the last of his patience.

He abruptly stopped the rhythm, leaving his fingers buried deep and perfectly still inside your swollen depths. The sudden lack of movement was an absolute tease, leaving you stranded on the very edge of a cliff.

He leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he forced his weight heavily over you.“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he demanded, his voice a deep command that left no room for hesitation. “Say it.”

A high, dire whine broke from your throat at the sudden agonizing stillness, your hips instinctively jerking upward in a silent, pathetic plea for him to keep moving. The tease was unbearable; your body was wound so incredibly tight, practically begging for the release he was intentionally withholding from you.

Yoongi didn't budge an inch. He simply let out a dark, amused huff against your ear, his fingers remained buried like lead inside your dripping pussy. "I didn't ask for a whine," he rasped, his thumb pressing firmly against your jawline to tilt your head back just enough to look at him. "I asked for words. Tell me you want me to fuck you." He repeated the command.

“I–I… I want you to fuck me.” You stutter out.

"Good girl," he growled the praise against your ear as he finally withdrew his fingers from your drenched warmth.

The sudden emptiness left you cold for only a second before the weight of his front pressed completely over you, pinning you flat into the couch. He didn't waste another moment. His hand reached down between your bodies, guiding his throbbing cock directly against your swollen opening, smearing your own excess wetness along the head.

He didn't ease into it. With one fluid, commanding thrust of his hips, Yoongi buried himself all the way inside of you, driving deep until his pelvis smacked hard against yours.

Your breath cut off completely, a choked scream tearing from your throat as your fingers clawed desperately into the fabric of his shirt. Your gaze, already locked wide onto his, turned instantly glassy as his sheer thickness stretched you open to an impossible limit, filling you so completely it made your head spin.

“Fuck—” The raven grunted, his upper body hovering over you as he went completely rigid, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

He stayed entirely still, his muscles locked as he forced himself to hold back and let your body adjust to his size. The utter stretch of him filling you to the absolute brim made your hips tremble against the cushions, your breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches beneath his heavy frame.

Every muscle in his back was corded with strain, his pulse hammering heavily where his chest pressed against yours. He took a slow, deep breath, waiting out the initial shock of the fit, though the tight, desperate clench of your walls around his cock was clearly pushing his self control over the edge.

The moment the clenching of your walls finally eased into a welcoming squeeze, Yoongi let out a satisfied groan. He didn't give you a second to recover. Pulling back just enough to catch his leverage, he drove his hips forward, initiating a hard, deliberate rhythm that completely altered the gravity of the room. The slow, punishing depth of his first few strokes was consuming; he slid almost entirely out before sinking all the way back in, bottoming out against you with a wet, heavy thud that rattled the breath right out of your lungs.

He growled, his hands locking firmly on your hips to keep you pinned into the cushions as his pace began to quicken. "Your pussy feels so good. Just like I imagined."

The steady, intense heat of his body against yours quickly became a relentless blur as his speed increased. The contact was rougher now, the coarse denim of his jeans and the fabric of his boxers scraping against your inner thighs with every aggressive plunge.

The sound of his skin and denim slapping against you echoed loud in the room, driving home the raw, bruising pace he was establishing. With every powerful thrust, his pelvis collided hard against your hips, the tight fullness stretching you so completely that a series of needy, high pitched moans broke from your throat. Because it was your first time, the sheer magnitude of the sensation was almost too much to process; every single movement sent a wave of sweet ache straight through your body, a deep tightness that was simultaneously agonizing and intoxicating as he broke you in.

Yoongi’s gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and entirely focused as he hovered over you. As his upper body leaned in closer to deepen the angle, the chain around his neck swung free. “God, you’re so pretty.” He breathed out. “The best pussy I’ve ever fucking had.”

“Y-Yoongi…” you moaned, your hands balling up the fabric of his shirt tightly. The raven flashed his gummy smile at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. It was something he could listen to over and over again.

“Fuck… say my name again.”

"Y-Yoongi!" you cried out again, your voice completely breaking as your eyes fluttered closed, your mind dissolving under the weight of pleasure, until the sudden sharp, stinging sensation of his fingers gently smacked your cheek, snapping your eyes back open.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice growing incredibly rough and strained as his pace became frantic. "I want you looking at me while I fuck you.” He panted, undoubtedly coming close to his end. You were close as well, feeling an intense feeling build up in your stomach.

"Look at how wet you are for me," he rasped, his dirty talk turning completely unfiltered as he felt the contractions of your walls tightening around him. He drove into you harder, faster. "You're taking every single inch of me."

Your vision blurred at the edges as that coiled heat in your stomach wound tighter and tighter, threatening to snap. Every touch felt magnified a hundred times over because it was him, because it was your first time, and the vulnerability of being completely pinned beneath his weight had your mind spinning out of control.

Yoongi let out a low, breathless laugh, his hips stuttering as the deep squelch of your pussy and his thrusts echoed loudly. "Fuck, look what we did," he groaned, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction as he looked down at where your bodies met. "You completely soaked the couch underneath us, baby. You're dripping all over the cushions for me."

Hearing those words sent a heavy wave of heat straight to your face, a mix of intense shyness and absolute surrender that made you squeeze him even tighter.

"Y-Yoongi, I'm gonna..." you cried out, your fingers letting go of his shirt so you could wrap your arms securely around his neck, pulling him down against you. Your hips bucked up instinctively against his, completely consumed by the pressure. "I'm about to cum..."

His dark eyes flared with desperation, his pace turning completely frantic at your admission. Strands of his damp, raven hair fell completely into his face, clinging to his sweaty forehead and obscuring his vision, but he didn't even try to brush them away as he stared down at you through the dark fringe. He slid his arms beneath your back, wrapping them tightly around you and locking you in an embrace that left no space between your chests.

"Me too, baby, fuck, I'm right there with you," he panted out, his voice entirely undone.

He bottomed out hard, his chest heaving as he stared down at you with completely blown out eyes, caught instantly as the coiled tension in your stomach snapped. “Oh god, fuck!” You scream aloud. An explosive, blinding wave of release crashed through you, your walls clamping down on him in tight, frantic pulses.

"I wanna watch my cum dripping out of this tight little pussy when I'm done with you." Yoongi growled, his grip tightening around you as the muscles in his back locked up, your climax triggering his own.With a final, deep thrust, Yoongi threw his head back, his dark hair tossing wildly away from his face. A loud, guttural groan tore from his throat as he came heavily inside you, his entire frame shuddering violently within your embrace as he poured himself into your tightness, locking you both into the shared, breathless aftershocks of the peak.

The violent shuddering of his body slowly subsided, leaving only the sound of your shared, ragged breathing filling the quiet room. For a long moment, neither of you moved. Yoongi remained buried deep inside you, his heavy frame completely draped over yours, his face buried in the crook of your neck as his chest heaved against your breasts.

The tight grip of his arms around your back gradually softened, his hands now simply resting against the fabric of your dress, tracing comforting circles into your waist through the material. You could feel the rapid thumping of his heartbeat right against your ribs, slowly syncing up with your own.

With a low, exhausted grunt, Yoongi shifted his weight, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at you, careful not to crush you on the narrow cushions. Strands of his damp, raven hair were still stuck to his forehead, framing eyes that were dark, heavy lidded, and utterly soft. The intimidating intensity from moments before was completely gone, replaced by a quiet, protective warmth.

"You okay?" he murmured, his voice incredibly deep from the groans he’d just let out. He raised one hand, his thumb gently brushing against your skin, his touch entirely tender.

“Mhm..” You nod breathlessly, your body feeling liquefied, a pleasant ache settling deep into you.

A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked down at where your bodies were still joined beneath the bunched up layers of your dress. True to his word, as he slowly and carefully began to pull himself out of your slick cunt, a thick, white stream of his release mixed with your own, dripping out of you and pooling onto the already damp fabric of the couch cushions beneath your hips.

"Look at that," Yoongi whispered, a low rumble of dark satisfaction vibrating in his chest as he stared at the messy sight. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, tasting the salt of your skin. “You did so fucking good for your first time, baby." He praises you.

The raven collapsed back down onto you, shifting his legs so they tangled thoroughly with yours on the snug space of the couch. He tucked his face right back into your neck, wrapping his arms securely around your torso to anchor you against his chest. He didn't care about the state of his slid down jeans or the dampness of your dress; he just wanted to hold you against him as the adrenaline finally began to fade and he began to fall asleep.

Your mind was a chaotic tangle of thoughts you couldn't quite straighten out. The reality of what just happened was crashing down in waves. You had just lost your virginity. And it wasn't just to anyone; it was to Yoongi, the last person you ever expected to be in this position with.

But beneath that realization lay the heaviest weight of all; Jungkook.

The thought of his name sent a sharp, confusing pang straight through your chest. You had cheated. The word felt ugly, completely incompatible with the hazy, warm weight of Yoongi resting on top of you, yet it was undeniably there. Did you regret it? The alcohol and smoke clouded your brain too much to give you a straight answer. There was no clarity to be found right now, no easy wave of guilt or sudden rush of justification. There was no going back from this. No fixing it, no pretending it was a mistake born purely out of a messy night. The moment you had agreed to come to Yoongi’s warehouse, the trajectory of everything had shifted.

All you knew for certain, as you stared blankly into the dimly lit room with Yoongi’s heartbeat thumping steady against your ribs, was that everything was about to change.

Taglist

The WiFi in your apartment died for the last 3 days.

Seventy-two hours of nothing but the mocking blue “No Internet” circle spinning like it was personally judging your life choices. And the worst part? Your current drama had just dropped episodes 4 and 5.

The kind of episodes that end on a cliffhanger. You were spiritually hemorrhaging. You arrived at the office that morning looking like someone had personally kicked you out of your own apartment.

Seated at the lunch table, you dropped your head onto your folded arms with theatrical despair. “Do you guys understand the emotional devastation? The male lead literally whispered ‘Saranghae’ and then... bam... truck-kun. I’m in mourning. Actual mourning.”

Jimin, mid-bite of his kimbap, didn’t even look up. “You say that every time when episodes are gonna drop.”

“This is different,” you insisted, lifting your head just enough to glare.

“This is soul-destroying. This time the episodes are already dropped and it's been 3 days I haven't watch them. I am not even opening insta because of spoiler edits.”

Hoseok patted your shoulder like you were a sad puppy.

Namjoon, being the human equivalent of a walking Wikipedia, offered, “You could use the office Wi-Fi tonight. It’s gigabit. You’d be done in like… ten minutes.”

You sat up so fast your chair squeaked. “Genius. Evil genius. I love you.”

“Don’t get caught,” Jimin warned, finally looking amused.

“I’ll be undercover,” you promised, already mentally mapping your escape plan. “Like a ninja.”

That evening you stayed behind after the last person left.

The open-plan office slowly emptied until it was just the hum of the air conditioning and the faint glow of emergency exit signs. You dimmed your monitor brightness to absolutely no one, and crawled under your desk like a soldier in enemy territory.

The LAN port was, of course, in the most inconvenient corner possible. “Come on, you stupid little rectangle hole,” you muttered.

Click. Success.

You crawled back out, dusted off your skirt, stood up triumphantly.

...and screamed.

A man was standing three feet away.

Tall. Black turtleneck. Black slacks. Black hair falling slightly into even blacker eyes. Hands in pockets. Expression so blank it was almost weaponized.

Your soul left your body for a solid three seconds.

You yelped, slammed your laptop half-closed behind you, and pressed your back against the desk edge so hard you were probably going to have a bruise shaped like a drawer handle tomorrow.

He didn’t flinch... Didn’t blink...

Just tilted his head the tiniest fraction.

“What are you doing here this late?” His voice was low, raspy, the kind that made you feel like you’d been caught red-handed while robbing the bank.

You swallowed. “W-Work.”

A beat of silence... Thick Silence...

“…Very urgent work... Important Spreadsheets,” you added, because apparently your mouth had decided lying was now its full-time job.

His gaze flicked down to the laptop you were clutching like it contained state secrets, then slowly back up to your face.

One eyebrow lifted barely. But it was enough.

You tried for bravado. “Actually, what are you doing here? This is the marketing floor. You are here after hours. Without any ID or visitor badge. I could report you.”

The corner of his mouth twitched.

Not a smile. More like his face had decided smiling was too much effort but it would humor you with a half-second preview.

He took one step forward.

You took one step back—and immediately hit the desk. There was nowhere to go.

Then he moved again. And again.

Until both his hands braced on the desk, one on each side of your hips. Not touching you. Not even close. But close enough that you could smell clean laundry and something faintly like cologne and quiet authority.

You were officially caged between a very expensive desk and a very dangerous-looking stranger.

He leaned in just enough that you had to tip your head back to meet his eyes.

“Interesting,” he murmured.

Your heart was doing somersaults inside your ribcage.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” you managed, voice higher than usual.

He studied you for a long moment... long enough that you started cataloguing every micro-expression. The way his lashes were unfairly long. The tiny silver hoop in his left earlobe. The curve of his lips.

Then, very slowly, the smallest, most dangerous smirk you’d ever seen curled one side of his mouth.

“Clearly,” he said, voice velvet and gravel at the same time, “you haven’t seen me before. So you don't know me.”

You blinked. “Should I?”

He held your gaze for one more excruciating heartbeat. Then he straightened, pulled his hands off the desk, turned on his heel, and walked away.

Just… left.

You stared at his retreating back until he disappeared around the corner toward the executive elevator. You exhaled like you’d been holding your breath for a full minute.

“…Who the actual hell was that?” you whispered to the empty office.

Your laptop pinged softly.

Download progress: 14%.

You looked at the screen. Looked at the dark hallway where Tall, Dark, and Terrifying man had vanished. Looked back at the screen.

“…Worth it,” you decided, and sat down to wait for the remaining download like your life depended on it.

The next morning arrived like a betrayal.

You shuffled into the office ten minutes late... hair in a slightly chaotic half-bun, concealer doing heroic work under your eyes, and an Americano clutched in your hand.

Episodes 4 and 5 had finally downloaded at 10 p.m., and you’d stayed up until 2:00 watching them back-to-back while ugly-crying into a pillow.

The entire marketing floor was already gathered near the glass-walled conference room, buzzing with that special brand of corporate excitement reserved for surprise announcements.

You slid into the back row between Hoseok and a very confused intern who was still holding a stack of color-coded Post-its like they were a shield.

“What’s going on?” you whispered, leaning toward Hoseok.

He grinned like he knew something you didn’t. “Big Announcement. You didn't check the CEO’s mail?”

You took a long, fortifying sip of coffee. “If it’s another ‘synergy workshop’ I’m faking my own death.”

The double doors at the front opened.

Mr. Min—the current CEO, silver hair, kind eyes, stepped forward with the kind of proud-dad energy.

“Good morning, everyone,” he began, voice warm and grandfatherly. “I know we’ve all been wondering about the future of the company, especially after the merger talks died down. Well… I’m happy to finally introduce the person who will be taking over as CEO from today.”

A dramatic pause... Everyone leaned forward slightly.

“My son. Min Yoongi.”

The room exhaled in a collective “oooh.”

You took another casual sip of coffee, unbothered. Rich people had rich kids. Whatever. Probably some freshly graduate, with lots of attitude and in loafers with no socks.

Then the new voice cut through the room—low, raspy, unmistakable.

“Good morning.”

Your entire spinal column turned to ice. You froze mid-sip, lips still wrapped around the straw.

Very slowly... like turning your head might detonate something—you lifted your gaze.

There he was.

Black suit today. Crisp white shirt. Tie loosened around neck, top button undone just enough to be quietly devastating. Hair pushed back, exposing that unfairly perfect forehead.

Same silver hoop glinting in his left ear. Same dark, unreadable eyes scanning the room like he was cataloguing every single soul present. The man who’d caged you against your own desk last night like some k-drama.

Your soul didn’t just leave your body. It travelled to whole another universe.

Without conscious thought, your coffee mug rose, slowly, slowly, until it covered the bottom half of your face. You could still see over the rim—just barely—but mostly you were hiding.

Hiding very obviously... In front of thirty people...

Hoseok side-eyed you. “You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”

“Shh,” you hissed through barely moving lips. “Act like I don't exist.”

Yoongi stepped forward beside his father.

The CEO beamed and launched into the usual proud-parent energy: top of his class at Seoul National, Wharton MBA, already restructured three subsidiaries in Europe, blah blah terrifying competence.

You barely heard any of it.

Because Yoongi was now walking the line of employees.

One by one.

He greeted people with the politeness: a nod, a quiet “nice to meet you,” a brief handshake if they offered. Voice so soft it almost disappeared into the carpet.

Expression calm. Professional. Untouchable.

Until he reached your row. He stopped directly in front of you.

Your mug was now practically glued to your nose. You could feel the condensation dripping onto your chin.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked.

You peeked over the rim... barely one eyeball visible...

His gaze locked onto yours.

And then... God help you, he smirked... again.

It wasn’t big.

It was the tiniest upward curve of one corner of his mouth, but it carried the same energy as last night’s “interesting.” Like he’d caught you stealing company WiFi and was mildly entertained by your entire existence.

“We’ve met before,” he said.

Quiet... Casual... Like he was commenting on the weather.

The entire marketing team turned to look at you. Thirty pairs of eyes.

Hoseok’s jaw actually dropped.

You choked.

Not dramatically. Just a small, pathetic inhale of coffee that went down the wrong pipe. You coughed once... violently... mug sloshing, eyes watering.

“N-no we haven’t,” you wheezed, lowering the mug just enough to speak. Your voice cracked on the second syllable.

Yoongi’s smirk deepened by approximately 0.3 millimeters. Devastating.

“Really?” he murmured, tilting his head the exact same way he had last night under your desk. “Because I distinctly remember someone screaming when they stood up from under a desk. And then trying to hide a laptop screen like it contained national secrets.”

A ripple of confused laughter moved through the team.

You wanted to die.

You wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. You wanted to yeet yourself out the nearest window.

“I... I was working late,” you managed. “Very important… spreadsheet emergency.”

“Under the desk?” he asked, deadpan.

“I-I was searching for LAN Port...” you blurted.

Hoseok made a strangled noise that might have been laughter or sympathy or both.

Yoongi studied you for another long second. Then he simply nodded once, like you’d passed some invisible test only he understood.

“Looking forward to working with you,” he said. Voice velvet. Eyes glittering with something dangerously close to amusement.

He moved on.

Just like that.

He left you standing there with coffee dripping down your chin, face burning hotter than the surface of the sun, and thirty coworkers staring at you like you’d personally invented workplace drama.

Hoseok leaned in the second Yoongi was out of earshot. “Okay. Spill. What the actual hell was that?”

You stared straight ahead, still clutching your mug like a lifeline.

“I think,” you whispered, “I accidentally interrogated the new CEO last night. And now he knows my face. And my scream. And probably the name of my drama.”

Hoseok blinked. Then grinned so wide it threatened his ears.

“Bestie,” he said, patting your shoulder, “you’re so screwed.”

You looked down at your half-empty coffee cup.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I think I just downloaded way more trouble than two episodes were worth.”

Later that afternoon your phone buzzed once on your desk. A single message from the internal company chat, sender: Executive Office.

“CEO Min would like to see you in his office. Now.”

Your stomach dropped straight through the floor and kept falling. You stared at the screen like it had personally insulted your entire bloodline.

Beside you, Hoseok noticed the color drain from your face and leaned over. “What’s wrong?”

You turned the phone toward him so he could read it. Jimin and Namjoon both scooted their chairs closer like this was group therapy.

“I’m getting fired,” you whispered, voice cracking. “For downloading only two episodes.”

Jimin winced. “Told you to be careful.”

Namjoon rubbed his temples. “Just… go. Maybe he wants to congratulate you on your excellent taste in kdrama.”

You glared at him and stood up on shaky legs. “If I don’t come back, tell my mother I loved her.”

Jimin rolled his eyes at your dramatic self.

The walk to the executive floor felt like a death row march. The elevator dinged cheerfully.

You hated it.

Yoongi’s office door was already ajar. You knocked once... barely a tap—and pushed it open.

He was seated behind the massive glass-and-mahagony desk that probably cost more than your entire apartment. White shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows, silver watch catching the late-afternoon light, expression so calm.

He didn’t look up right away. Just kept reading something on his tablet.

You stood there like a guilty schoolchild sent to the principal.

Finally he lifted his gaze. Dark. Steady. Unreadable. “Close the door.”

You did. The click sounded final.

He didn’t speak for another long second. Then he reached for a single sheet of paper on his desk, slid it across the polished surface toward you.

You stepped forward, looked down.

LAN usage log. Your extension. Date: yesterday. Total downloaded: 48.7 GB.

You gasped so loud it echoed off the walls. “You checked?”

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin. “I check everything.”

Your mouth opened... Closed... Opened again... “That’s—that’s an invasion of privacy!”

“Is it?” His voice was soft, almost gentle. Terrifyingly gentle. “Company network. Company policy clearly states no personal streaming, torrenting, or large-file personal downloads exceeding 5 GB per month without prior approval.”

You felt your soul try to exit through your feet.

“I’ll delete everything,” you blurted. “Right now. I’ll format my laptop. I’ll—I’ll never do it again. Please don’t fire me. I need this job. I have rent. And WiFi bills. And electricity bills.”

He watched you spiral in perfect silence.

Then, very quietly... “What drama was it?”

You blinked. Your brain short-circuited. “…What?”

“The one worth risking your job,” he repeated, slower this time, like he was speaking to someone very sleep-deprived. “What’s the title?”

You hesitated.

Then looked at the door. Looked back at him. Looked at the usage log like it might spontaneously combust and save you.

Then, in the tiniest voice possible, “…Love in the Slow Lane.”

He didn’t react at first.

Just held your gaze.

Then the corner of his mouth lifted—barely. “That’s my favorite too.”

You stared at him with a mouth slightly opened. Your sleep-deprived brain refused to process. “You’re joking.”

“I don’t joke around.” He leaned forward slightly. “Episode three ended with Ji-hoon finding the letter in the rain and truck scene. Episode four opens with the flashback to university. Correct?”

You nodded mutely, too stunned to form words.

He tapped one finger once on the desk. “I haven’t watched four and five yet. Due to Work.”

Then he continued, casual as if he were discussing quarterly projections, “I won’t report the usage. Or fire you.”

Your heart restarted. “Really?”

“On one condition.”

You swallowed. “What is it?”

“New episodes drop every Friday night. You watch the rest with me. Here. After hours. No more solo downloads on company WiFi.”

You blinked again. Several times.

“You… want to watch Love in the Slow Lane… with me?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t have time to download it myself. And apparently you’re already an expert at late-night viewing.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Then, because you had zero filter. “You’re blackmailing me with company WiFi usage to be your drama buddy?”

His eyes glittered. “I prefer ‘mutually beneficial arrangement.’”

You stared at him for a long moment.

“…Fine,” you said at last. “But if you spoil anything while watching, I’m leaking your viewing history to the entire marketing floor.”

The tiniest huff of amusement escaped him. Almost a laugh.

“Deal.”

The very next evening you showed up at 8:45 p.m. with a suspicious paper bag that smelled like convenience-store kimbap and ramyeon. He was already there... lights dimmed, massive 85-inch monitor on, episode four paused at 00:02.

You hesitated in the doorway.

He glanced over. “You’re late.”

“W-Work...,” you replied.

“Sit.”

You sat. On the leather couch facing the screen.

He stayed behind the desk for approximately thirty seconds before giving up on the pretending and moving to sit beside you—close enough that your knees almost touched.

Episode four played.

You screamed at the truck scene... again.

He side-eyed you. “You’ve seen this.”

“I’m reliving the trauma for emotional support.”

He huffed... almost a laugh.

By episode five’s ending credits you were both yelling at the screen in unison about how unfair the coma plot was.

And just like that, a routine was born.

Every Friday after the last person left the floor, you slipped into his office like a thief. He’d already have the lights dimmed, the huge 85-inch monitor on the wall queued up, two cans of cold brew sitting on the side table like silent offerings.

He always pretended to be “finishing emails” when you arrived... papers spread out, glasses perched on his nose—but the second you sat on the leather sofa opposite his desk, he’d close the laptop without a word, join you and hit play.

You screamed at every plot twist. “NO! He did NOT just push her into the fountain again!”

“Shh,” he’d mutter, though his eyes never left the screen.

By the third week he’d started a running list on his phone: Pending Dramas to Binge. Nevertheless, Our Beloved Summer, Twenty-Five Twenty-One, Business Proposal, Crash Landing on You, Lovely Runner...

You glanced at it one night while the credits rolled. “I’ve already seen more than half of these.”

He didn’t even look up from pausing the next episode preview. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Why?”

“You used 48.7 GB of company bandwidth in one night.” He finally met your eyes, deadpan. “Consider this as payback.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself—bright, startled, echoing in the quiet office.

He didn’t smile... Not really. But the way his gaze softened for half a second before he hit play again? That was more dangerous than any cliffhanger.

And somewhere between episode six of Love in the Slow Lane and the opening credits of Nevertheless, you both never realized that the real slow burn wasn’t on the screen.

It was sitting three feet away, pretending he didn’t care, while secretly and eagerly waiting every Friday night just for this.

The whispers started small.

Like the first crack in thin ice.

It was a quiet Friday evening a couple of weeks into your secret drama ritual. Most of the floor had already clocked out, but someone from Administration... Minji, had stayed behind to finish a quarterly audit.

She was walking past the executive wing with her arms full of folders when she saw it... the faint blue glow leaking under Yoongi’s office door at 10:17 p.m., and two silhouettes on the couch, and your loud laugh.

By Monday morning the rumour had churned out three different versions.

Version one: you were sleeping with the new CEO for a promotion. Version two: you were blackmailing him with something scandalous. Version three: you were somehow his secret fiancee from an arranged marriage setup.

None of them were true.

All of them were loud.

Hoseok, Jimin, and Namjoon cornered you in the break room during lunch. Hoseok slid the door shut behind him with dramatic flair. “Okay... The entire building is talking about you and CEO Min.”

You paused mid-bite of your convenience-store triangle kimbap. “Talking how?”

Jimin leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Talking like ‘she’s in his office every night until 2 a.m.’. Talking like ‘she must be giving him something extra-special to keep her job.”

Namjoon adjusted his glasses, looking pained. “There’s also a theory that you’re his secret fiancée from an arranged marriage nobody knew about. That one’s gaining more attention than other two versions.”

You snorted so hard soy sauce nearly came out your nose. “Every night till 2 a.m.? Fiancée? Seriously? We’re literally just watching dramas and yelling at the screen when the second lead does something stupid.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “You’re still doing the drama thing? With him? In his office?”

“Every Friday... after hours,” you confirmed cheerfully. “He brings fancy popcorn now. The kind with truffle oil. It’s elite.”

Jimin pinched the bridge of his nose. “You realize how this looks, right? People are saying you’re trading favours. That your character is… questionable.”

You set your kimbap down.

Looked at all three of them... really looked. Then smiled, soft but steady.

“I really appreciate that you all are worried but... I don’t care about those rumours,” you said simply.

“I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m not sleeping with him. I’m not blackmailing him. I’m not stealing company secrets. I’m watching a drama with someone who also likes the drama. That’s it. If people want to make up stories because they’re bored, that’s their Friday night. Mine’s definitely better than theirs.”

Hoseok blinked. Then slowly started grinning. “You’re actually insane... do you know that?... In the best way.”

Namjoon sighed, but there was fondness in it. “Just… be careful. Office politics can get ugly fast.”

You shrugged, picking your kimbap back up. “Let them talk. I’ve got episode twelve queued and truffle popcorn waiting.”

Later that week the gossip took a sharper turn.

It was a Thursday afternoon—the kind where the office felt half-asleep and the coffee machine was making more noise than actual productivity.

You and Jimin were leaning against the high counter in the break room, sharing a bag of shrimp crackers. Jimin was mid-story, about how his last night blind date was total disaster and reenacting the way his blind date had tried to impress him by doing aegyo.

That was when the door swung open.

Seung-ho—the senior accountant strode in like he owned the oxygen in the room. He glanced at the two of you, clocked the laughter, and his lip curled.

He didn’t even pretend to reach for the coffee pot.

Just stopped a few feet away, arms crossed, and muttered loud enough for both of you to hear, “Must be nice, huh? Giggling like schoolgirls while spreading your legs for the boss so you don’t have to do any real work.”

The words landed like ice water down your spine.

The laughter died in your throat.

You turned slowly. Jimin froze mid-chew, cracker halfway to his mouth.

You straightened, shoulders back, voice clear and sharp enough to cut glass. “Excuse me?”

Seung-ho blinked, clearly not expecting pushback. His smirk faltered for half a second before he doubled down. “You heard me.”

Jimin was already moving... stepping half in front of you like a human shield, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

“Watch your mouth,” Jimin said, low and lethal. “You don’t talk to her like that. Ever. Stay in your damn lane, Seung-ho, before someone puts you in it permanently.”

Seung-ho scoffed, but there was a flicker of unease now. He looked between the two of you—Jimin radiating quiet fury, you staring him down without flinching. Then he turned and walked out.

The break room door clicked shut.

You exhaled shakily, adrenaline buzzing under your skin. “I was two seconds from throwing my coffee at his stupid face.”

Jimin turned to you, expression softening instantly. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, though your voice wobbled just a little. “Just… gross. Really gross.”

Jimin pulled you into a quick side-hug. “He’s an asshole. You handled that like a queen.”

You managed a small laugh. “Thanks for the backup.”

“Always.”

And neither of you saw the way a certain figure had paused outside the door thirty seconds earlier, coffee cup halfway to his lips, expression going from neutral to thunderous in the span of one heartbeat.

Later that evening, after the worst of the workday had dragged itself to a close, you escaped to the rooftop terrace. The city lights were starting to flicker on below.

You sat on the low concrete ledge, knees drawn up, staring at nothing in particular.

Footsteps approached.

Hoseok appeared first, carrying two cans of iced coffee like peace offerings. Jimin was right behind him, still simmering. Namjoon brought your favorite snacks.

Hoseok plopped down beside you without preamble and pressed a cold can into your hand. “Emergency mood-lifter delivery. Drink. Then talk.”

You cracked it open. Took a sip. “I’m fine. Really. Just… needed air.”

Jimin sat on your other side, cross-legged. “You were more than fine earlier. I’m proud.”

Hoseok grinned. “Legendary. I wish I’d seen it live.”

Namjoon stayed standing—arms crossed, gaze thoughtful. After a minute he spoke, voice quiet but deliberate.

“Seung-ho’s gone.”

You looked up. “Gone?”

“Transferred. Effective immediately. Busan branch. They announced it in the afternoon all-hands email—‘structural realignment to strengthen regional operations.’ He was supposed to head the Q3 audit team here. Now he’s on a train tomorrow morning.”

You blinked. “Busan?.”

Namjoon nodded. “Yeah. Funny how fast these things move when someone crosses a line.”

Hoseok whistled low. “That’s not coincidence.”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed. “You think…?”

“I think,” Namjoon said carefully, “someone has very good ears. And very little patience for people who talk to Y/n like that.”

You stared at the city skyline, the cold can sweating against your palm. You didn’t say his name.

You didn’t have to because you knew.

Hoseok bumped your shoulder gently. “Hey. You didn’t deserve that crap. Not even a little. And whoever made sure Seung-ho’s transferred. They’re on your side.”

Jimin leaned closer. “We all are.”

You let out a long breath... half laugh, half relief... and shared a group hug with all three of them.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I know.”

Downstairs, in an office with the lights still on and the monitor still glowing faintly, Min Yoongi sat alone.

He hadn’t moved since the break-room incident.

His phone sat face-down on the desk.

He hadn’t texted you yet.

But when your phone buzzed twenty minutes later... after you’d finally dragged yourself home and collapsed on the couch—it was one simple line:

Yoongi: You okay?

You stared at the message for a long time. Then typed back:

You: Yeah. Thanks to my friends. And… maybe someone else.

Three dots appeared... Disappeared... Appeared again...

Yoongi: Good.

Next Friday you didn’t go to the office at all.

Around 10 a.m., still cocooned in the world’s oldest, softest blanket, head pounding, throat scratchy, you fumbled for your phone and opened Yoongi’s chat.

You: Hey. Don’t think I ditched you because of the stupid office rumors. Not feeling great today. Calling in sick.

The reply pinged back in under two minutes.

Yoongi: Okay. Rest.

Two words. Classic Yoongi. No fuss, no emojis, no dramatic concern. Just… rest.

You stared at the screen for a long moment, the corner of your mouth lifting in a weak, watery smile. Then you flipped the phone face-down on the cushion, burrowed deeper into the blanket mountain, and tried to sleep.

The rest of the day passed in a hazy blur of half-dozing, coughing, sneezing, and forcing down lukewarm porridge. By evening the headache had dulled to a low throb, but your energy was still at rock bottom.

Around 9 p.m. the doorbell rang.

You groaned, debating whether to ignore it.

Probably Hoseok with emergency soup or Namjoon showing up with herbal tea and unsolicited medical advice but they always informed before actually visiting. You dragged yourself upright, blanket still draped around your shoulders, and shuffled to the peephole.

Your heart did a clumsy somersault.

Min Yoongi stood in the hallway outside your door.

Black hoodie, hood up. Black baseball cap pulled low enough to shadow most of his face. Hands buried in his pockets. Looking exactly like a man who had driven across half the city on a Friday night just to see you.

You opened the door slowly.

He lifted his gaze.

His eyes flicked over you... puffy eyes, messy hair, oversized hoodie that used to belong to your brother.

“You look like death,” he said.

Flat. Concerned in that grumpy way only he could manage.

“Thanks,” you croaked. “You didn’t have to come all way here.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I was already in the car.”

You blinked and stepped aside. “Come in before the neighbors start their own rumor party.”

He stepped inside.

Took off his shoes without being asked and looked around your tiny one-room apartment.

You closed the door and leaned against it. “My WiFi’s fixed now. If you want… we could watch here? Episode twelve’s already downloaded.”

He glanced at your laptop on the coffee table. Then back at you. “You should be in bed.”

“I’m fine,” you lied.

He gave you The Sigh... the long, theatrical sigh and walked straight to your couch like he’d sat there a hundred times before.

He dropped down and pulled the cap off and tossed it onto the armrest. Ran a hand through his dark hair, leaving it messier than before.

You hesitated for half a second, then shuffled over and sat beside him. A minute of comfortable silence passed. The fairy lights cast tiny golden flecks across both your faces.

Then, quietly you asked... “Did you do that?”

He didn’t look up. Already had your laptop open on his thighs, fingers moving over the trackpad.

“Do what?”

“You know exactly what I’m asking.”

He paused—cursor hovering over the play button.

Then clicked anyway.

The familiar opening credits rolled across the screen: soft piano, golden-hour sunlight filtering through cherry blossoms, the OST that always made your chest ache in the best way.

“You ate something,” he said instead.

You waited.

He kept his eyes glued to the screen.

“…Don’t change the topic,” you muttered. “I already ate. Like three spoonfuls of porridge.”

He didn’t reply right away.

You turned to him slowly.

He still wouldn’t meet your eyes. Just watched the drama unfold like it held the secrets of the universe.

“Yoongi…” You caught yourself mid-name, cleared your scratchy throat. “I mean—Mr. Min. About the transfer?”

He exhaled through his nose. “No.”

Then, barely a whisper—like he was admitting it to himself more than to you, “…Maybe.”

You felt something warm bloom in your chest. Something quieter. Softer. You leaned back against the couch. Let your shoulder brush his—just barely.

He didn’t move away.

Halfway through the episode you murmured, “Thank you.”

He grunted.

But when the male lead finally confessed under the fireworks... he didn’t complain when you grabbed his sleeve and squealed.

And when the credits rolled, he didn’t get up to leave.

Just sat there in the dim glow of your fairy lights, hoodie sleeve still caught in your fingers, watching you while you watched your laptop screen.

After a long moment he spoke—voice low, almost thoughtful. “I’m thinking it’s better to watch them at your place or mine rather than the office.”

You tilted your head, surprised. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He glanced around your small, lived-in space—posters, lights, dying plant, you and something in his expression softened another fraction. “Less eyes. Less rumors. Next week… my place.”

You grinned—tired, sniffly, cheeks still fever-flushed, but unmistakably bright.

“Deal.” You poked his arm weakly. “But you better have my favourite snacks. The spicy shrimp chips. And those chocolate mochi things.”

He huffed—almost a laugh. “High-maintenance.”

“Extremely,” you agreed cheerfully.

He finally moved then... stood, stretched, pulled his cap back on. But before he headed for the door he paused, looked down at you still curled under the blanket. “Take medicine. Drink water. Sleep.”

You mock-saluted with the blanket edge. “Yes, sir.”

He shook his head once... fond expression, and let himself out.

The door clicked shut softly.

You stared at it for a long minute, sleeve still warm where his arm had been. Then you pulled the blanket over your head and smiled into the dark.

The following Saturday evening found you standing outside a sleek high-rise in Gangnam, staring up at the glass-and-steel monolith. Yoongi had texted you the address at exactly 6:47 p.m... no emojis, no directions, just a pin drop and one line: Come up. 32nd floor.

You’d spent the entire subway ride second-guessing your outfit oversized sweater, jeans, sneakers, and now the private elevator was shooting you upward so fast your stomach flipped.

The doors opened directly into his penthouse.

Floor-to-ceiling windows. City lights glittering across the Han River. Minimalist furniture in shades of charcoal and cream. And the faint, mouth-watering smell of something simmering on the stove.

Yoongi appeared from the kitchen, sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark apron tied around his waist like he’d been born wearing it. He looked… domestic. Dangerously domestic...

“You’re early,” he said, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“Traffic was light,” you lied.

You’d actually arrived twenty minutes ago and spent them pacing the lobby like a nervous puppy, hesitating whether you should actually visit him or not. “Smells good. Did you order in?”

He gave you a look that said he was mildly offended on behalf of whatever was bubbling in that pot. “I cooked.”

You blinked. “You… cook?”

“Occasionally.” He asked you to wait in living room and turned back toward the kitchen island, where two bowls waited beside a steaming rice cooker.

You were already curled up on the couch when he emerged from the kitchen carrying two bowls. He set the bowls on the low coffee table without looking at you, ears just the tiniest bit pink under the soft lighting. “Enjoy.”

He dropped onto the couch beside you—closer than usual. His thigh pressed lightly against yours. Neither of you moved to create distance.

You poked his arm with your chopsticks before taking a bite. “Okay, this is actually amazing. Like, restaurant-level. You are actually a good cook.”

He grunted, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

What you didn’t know... was that he’d called his father at 6 p.m. that evening, voice low and awkward in the penthouse kitchen. “Dad… what was that dish you made the first time you wanted to impress Mom? The one she still talks about?”

His father had laughed so hard Yoongi had to hold the phone away from his ear. “Min Yoongi, are you finally trying to cook for a girl? The same girl who hid behind a coffee mug during your introduction? I knew it the way you looked at her that day.”

Yoongi had nearly hung up. “Just tell me the recipe.”

Another booming laugh. “Japchae. And tell her I said hello. I like her already. She makes you less grumpy.”

Yoongi had ended the call with a muttered “I’m hanging up now,” but the pink on his ears had stayed for the entire cooking process.

His dad knew.

His dad was already planning family dinners in his head.

And you? You were happily twirling noodles around your chopsticks, completely oblivious.

The episode played on. Your legs stayed pressed together.

Halfway through the episode... right when the second lead was doing his usual noble, suffering, silent-pining routine, you threw your hands up dramatically, nearly knocking over your bowl.

“If they don’t let the second lead confess soon, I’m filing an actual petition. This is emotional attack.”

Yoongi huffed a quiet laugh into his spoon. “Dramatic.”

“It’s not dramatic, it’s justice.” You turned to him, cheeks flushed from the spicy stew and the low lighting. “Confessing isn’t that hard. Just say the words. ‘I like you.’ Boom... Done... World keeps spinning.”

He set his bowl down carefully on the table and turned his body slightly toward you. The movement was slow, deliberate.

“Confessing is overrated,” he said, voice quieter than the OST still playing softly in the background.

You blinked and tilted your head. “Why?”

He looked at you then... really looked. Not the quick scans he usually did. Not the amused side-glances. Full, steady eye contact that made the room feel suddenly smaller.

Very slowly, like he was choosing each word with precision, “Because some people are terrible at it.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs so hard you were sure he could hear it.

The drama kept playing... dialogue, music, tension, but it all faded to background noise. You searched his face for a joke, for sarcasm, for anything that would let you laugh this off and keep pretending it was just drama-club banter.

There was none.

Just Yoongi—quiet, unreadable, watching you like he was waiting for something.

You swallowed. “So… what do terrible confessors do instead?”

He didn’t answer right away and just held your gaze a beat longer. Then, softer than you’d ever heard him, “They cook while waiting for you. They transfer assholes who insults you. They show up at your apartment when you say you’re sick. They let you scream at plot twists and steal their office wifi.”

Your breath caught.

You opened your mouth... Closed it... Tried again. “That’s… That's a lot of effort for someone terrible at confessing.”

“Maybe,” he murmured. “Or maybe they’re just waiting for the right moment.”

The episode ended. Credits rolled. Neither of you moved to pause or skip or do anything normal.

You cleared your throat, suddenly too aware of how close everything felt. “I… I-I should probably head home. It’s late.”

You stood up too quickly. The blanket tangled around your ankle.

Your foot caught on the edge of the coffee table and you pitched forward... His hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist, steadying you in one smooth motion.

You froze.

He froze.

You were standing inches apart now.

His grip was gentle but firm, thumb brushing the inside of your wrist where your pulse was hammering like a traitor. Neither of you moved and for once his expression wasn’t guarded or smirking or pretending to be annoyed. It was just… open.

His voice dropped quieter than you’d ever heard it. “You still owe the company forty-eight gigabytes of internet usage.”

You let out a shaky laugh that came out more like a whisper. “How do I repay it?”

His gaze flicked down... just for a heartbeat... to your lips. Then back up to your eyes.

It was slow... Deliberate...

A smirk curved one corner of his mouth, the same dangerous little twitch that had started everything under your desk weeks ago. “I’ll think of something.”

The words hung between you like a promise and a question all at once. His fingers stayed circled around your wrist.

Your breath caught. You didn’t pull away.

He didn’t let go.

And somewhere in the back of your mind, the thought finally formed, bright and undeniable, Oh no... Feelings...

The subway station was only a five-minute walk, but every step felt heavy. You kept replaying the last ten minutes in your head on a loop that refused to pause.

His thumb brushing the inside of your wrist. The way his gaze had dropped—just once, just for a heartbeat, to your lips. That slow, deliberate smirk. “I’ll think of something.”

You swiped your card at the gate, descended the escalator, and found a spot on the platform. The train arrived with a soft whoosh of air. You slipped inside, found an empty seat near the window, and pressed your forehead against the cool glass lurched forward.

The city blurred past in streaks of neon and headlights, but you weren’t really seeing it.

He hadn’t said “I like you.” Not once... Not directly...

And yet every single thing he had said felt heavier than any three-word confession could have been.

“They cook while waiting for you.” “They transfer assholes who insults you.” “They show up at your apartment when you say you’re sick.” “They let you scream at plot twists and steal their office wifi.”

You closed your eyes, cheeks warming even in the air-conditioner. He’d listed it all so casually. Like those weren’t the exact moments you’d replayed in your own head.

He’d looked at you the entire time without flinching or looking away.

And when his gaze had flicked to your lips—God. It hadn’t been accidental. It had been intentional. Slow. Hungry in the quietest way. Like he was already imagining what came after the “something” he’d promised to think of.

Your heart gave another stupid, traitorous thud.

What were you supposed to do with that?

Pretend it hadn’t happened? Or... worse... actually hope he meant every word?

The train slowed for your stop.

You stood, gripping the overhead rail a little too tightly. The doors opened. Cool night air rushed in.

You stepped onto the platform, the crowd parting around you like water, and realized you were smiling. Small. Secret. The kind of smile that hurt a little because it was so new.

He hadn’t confessed. Not out loud. Not yet. But he’d spent weeks confessing in every other language he knew how to speak.

And you... bright, chaotic, drama-obsessed you... were finally starting to understand every single one. You pulled your phone out as you climbed the stairs to street level.

No new messages except “Text me when you reach home.”

You didn’t expect any.

But when you reached your apartment door and slipped inside, kicking off your sneakers, you let yourself whisper—just once, to the empty room, “Maybe I’m terrible at it too.”

Then you smiled again, bigger this time, and went to bed with the memory of his thumb on your pulse still tingling under your skin.

It happened so gradually that neither of you noticed until it was already too late. The “secret drama club” turned into something else entirely.

At first it was just occasional dinner after work.

Yoongi would text you a single line at 7:45 p.m. after office almost emptying... “Lobby. 10 minutes.”, and you’d find him waiting by the side entrance, hands in his coat pockets, pretending he hadn’t been checking his watch every thirty seconds.

He’d take you to the tiny samgyeopsal place three blocks away. You’d spend the entire meal teasing him about how he never talked much while he grumbled that you talked enough for both of you.

Then came the late-night drama marathons.

Sometimes at his penthouse, sometimes at yours.

You’d show up with your favorite spicy shrimp chips and a ridiculous amount of chocolate mochi, declaring each new episode. He’d pretend to be annoyed when you paused every five minutes to rant, but he never once told you to shut up.

Instead he’d just lean back, arm stretched along the couch behind you, and quietly say things like “That plot twist was predictable from episode three” while his fingers brushed your shoulder every time you laughed too hard.

It was a Thursday. The office was empty except for the hum of the air conditioning and the glow of your monitor. You were finishing a client presentation deck, eyes burning, when the lights in the hallway flickered on.

Yoongi appeared in your doorway, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, looking like he’d been waiting for you to give up.

“You’re still here,” he said.

You rubbed your eyes. “Deadline. You?”

“Same.” He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you for a beat. “When are you leaving?”

You glanced at the clock... 10:42 p.m., and sighed. “Just a few more minutes. Then I’m heading to the subway.”

He nodded once, expression unchanging. “Pack up. I’ll walk you out.”

You blinked. “You don’t have to. You’re staying till late, right? You were saying earlier you had some work.”

“I’ll stay a few more hours after,” he said simply. “Doesn’t mean I’m letting you walk alone this late.”

You didn’t argue.

There was something quietly final in his tone that made your chest feel warm despite the exhaustion. You saved the file, shut your laptop, grabbed your bag, and followed him to the elevators.

The building was silent except for the soft ding of each floor passing. Outside, the night air was crisp, streetlights were casting long shadows.

Halfway to the subway entrance, you slowed.

He slowed with you.

You reached out without thinking, grabbed the sleeve of his coat, fingers curling into the fabric.

“Yoongi.” You didn't correct yourself this time.

He stopped and looked down at your hand, then up at your face.

He made a soft questioning hum in his throat.

You swallowed. Heart suddenly loud in your ears. “Are we… dating?”

He sighed like the question personally offended him.

“You want an official stamp letter?” he asked, deadpan. “Company seal and everything?”

You stared at him. Blinked once. Twice. “…That’s not an answer.”

He stopped walking then.

He turned to face you fully under the yellow glow of a streetlamp. The city noise faded into background static. For once he didn’t look away, didn’t hide behind that trademark Min Yoongi poker face.

Just looked at you... steady, quiet, a little fond, a little exasperated.

“Is this not obvious?” he said softly.

Your brain short-circuited... Completely...

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

Felt your cheeks heat despite the cool night air. The subway entrance was twenty steps away, but it might as well have been on another planet.

All you could focus on was his sleeve still caught in your fingers, the way his eyes hadn’t left yours, the quiet way he was waiting—not pushing, not teasing, just… waiting.

Your cheeks burned. Your grip on his sleeve tightened.

“I… oh,” was all you managed.

Yoongi’s smile finally broke free into a soft chuckle... small, dangerous, devastating. “Yeah. Oh.”

He reached up, brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear like it was the easiest thing he’d ever done, then started walking again, gently tugging you along. “Come on. You’re going to miss the last train if you keep malfunctioning.”

You fell into step beside him, heart still racing, sleeve still in your grasp. You didn’t let go until you reached the platform.

“So… we’re dating,” you said, testing the words out loud.

“Congratulations,” he deadpanned. “You figured it out.”

You laughed—bright, unstoppable. “Does this mean I get to call you my boyfriend now?”

He groaned, but his fingers found yours and laced through them without hesitation. And when the train doors opened, he didn’t just nod this time. He leaned down... slow, deliberate... and pressed a quick, soft kiss to your forehead.

“Text me when you get home,” he said against your hair. Then he stepped back.

You stared at him, dazed, as the doors closed between you. The train pulled away. You touched your forehead, fingers trembling just a little.

And somewhere between Gangnam and your stop, you realized, Yeah... This was definitely dating.

The next morning you floated into the office like someone had replaced the floor with clouds.

Your steps were lighter, your smile wider. You even hummed the Drama OST under your breath while waiting for the elevator—something you never did in public.

When the doors opened on your floor, you practically skipped to your desk, dropping your bag with a happy little sigh and immediately opening your laptop with a dreamy grin.

Hoseok noticed first.

He froze mid-sip of his iced americano, eyes narrowing like a detective who’d just spotted a suspect. Jimin, two desks away, tilted his head and whispered, “Is she… glowing?”

Namjoon, ever the observant one, adjusted his glasses and muttered, “She’s daydreaming already and it’s only 8:45 a.m.”

The three of them exchanging the exact same we need to talk look without saying a single word.

For the next hour they watched you like hawks.

You stared at your screen for a solid thirty minutes without typing, chin in hand, replaying the way Yoongi’s thumb had brushed your wrist and how he’d said “Is this not obvious?” like it was the most normal thing in the world.

A tiny, ridiculous smile kept tugging at your lips.

Hoseok leaned over the partition. “Okay, spill. You look like you won the lottery and got free lifetime ramyeon.”

You blinked, snapping out of it. “What? I’m just… happy. Productivity vibes. New day, new me.”

Jimin appeared on your other side, arms crossed, one eyebrow arched. “New day, new you? You’ve been smiling at your keyboard like it just proposed to you. Twice.”

Namjoon slid into the empty chair beside your desk, pretending to check a file but clearly not. “You also checked your phone thrice and sighed dreamily in last 5 minutes. That’s not normal. Even for you.”

You tried to deflect, laughing a little too brightly. “Guys, I just had a really good sleep! And the drama last night was peak. Male lead almost confessed... almost. My heart is full.”

Hoseok wasn’t buying it.

He spun your chair so you faced all three of them. “Nope. This is different. We know you.”

Jimin poked your arm. “Come on, bestie. We’re your emotional support trio. Who do we need to threaten? Or congratulate? Or both?”

You felt your cheeks heat. You tried one last dodge. “It’s nothing. Really. Just… the usual.”

Namjoon gave you the disappointed look. “You’re blushing. You never blush like this even when you talk about drama.”

You bit your lip, trying to play coy. “Okay, fine. Let’s just say… the secret drama club got an upgrade. A very official upgrade.”

Silence... Then three simultaneous reactions exploded.

Hoseok’s mouth dropped open. “No.”

Namjoon actually stood up. “No way.”

Jimin grabbed your shoulders, shaking you gently like he was checking if you were real. “Girl. The CEO? I knew it! I knew the second he transferred Seung-ho that something was up! But dating?! You’re dating the boss?!”

Namjoon was still processing, glasses slightly askew.

You leaned back, cheeks still pink, sunshine brighter than ever. “You guys are the worst and the best. Just… be normal.”

Jimin was already vibrating. “We need details. Every single detail. Does he smile? Like an actual smile? Does he get soft when you tease him? I need to know if our grumpy CEO is whipped.”

Namjoon just shook his head, smiling despite himself. “Just… be careful, yeah? But also... congratulations.”

You leaned back in your chair, still glowing, still bubbling, and grinned at your three best friends.

“He’s still grumpy,” you said softly. “But he’s my grumpy now.”

Hoseok fake-gagged. Jimin squealed. Namjoon just sighed like a proud dad.

It been few weeks and the new intern arrived like a burst of golden retriever energy wrapped in a pressed white shirt and wide-eyed enthusiasm.

Jungkook was twenty-three, fresh out of university, ridiculously polite, and apparently incapable of going five minutes without smiling.

Within his first day he’d already helped three people carry boxes, complimented the office coffee machine.

And today somehow he ended up at your desk asking for help with the photocopier settings.

“Noona, want to grab lunch?” he asked, leaning against your partition with both hands in his pockets, head tilted like a curious puppy.

“There’s this new place around the corner that does really good bibimbap. My treat? As thanks for saving me from the printer apocalypse earlier.”

You laughed... easy, automatic, the same laugh you gave everyone who made you smile. “You’re buying already? Careful, I’ll get used to it.”

Jungkook grinned wider. “That’s the plan.”

From the two floor above, Yoongi watched the entire exchange, standing in hallway just outside his cabin.

He stood with his arms crossed, expression unreadable, but the way his jaw tightened when you laughed... at whatever Jungkook had just said was unmistakable.

He gestured animatedly, probably telling some story about his university days, and you nodded along, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Yoongi’s fingers tightened once against his bicep. When Jungkook walked away, then he also turned away, walked back to his desk, and picked up his phone.

Your phone buzzed two minutes later.

Yoongi: CEO wants to see you. Now.

You groaned loud enough that Hoseok peeked over from the next desk. “What now? Did you download another forty-eight gigabytes from your boyfriend's wi-fi?”

“Worse,” you muttered, standing up. “It's not the boyfriend who summons. It's the boss summons.”

You took the elevator up to the executive floor.

His office door was ajar. You knocked once, pushed it open.

Yoongi was seated on the wide black couch, legs crossed at the ankle, laptop balanced on his thighs as he typed with focused intensity. The room was dimmer than usual... blinds fully-closed. He didn’t look up when you entered.

“Yes, boss?” you asked, keeping your tone light and professional in case anyone was lingering in the hallway.

He kept typing for another few seconds—long enough to make you shift your weight, then closed the laptop with a quiet snap and set it aside on the cushion next to him.

Only then did he lift his gaze, dark eyes locking onto yours. “You’re close with the intern.”

You blinked. “...What?”

He leaned back against the couch, one arm stretched along the backrest, the other resting casually on his thigh. “You laughed at his joke.”

You stared at him, mouth parting slightly. The pieces clicked together so fast your brain almost made an audible sound. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m observant,” he corrected, voice low and even.

You crossed your arms. A slow smile started tugging at your lips despite yourself. “You’re jealous.”

He exhaled through his nose... the classic Yoongi sigh of reluctant surrender. “...Whatever.”

Your heart did a tiny, traitorous flip. The grumpy CEO of the entire company was lounging on his own office couch admitting that he was jealous over an intern’s lunch invitation.

It was ridiculous. It was adorable.

You crossed the room slowly, deliberately, until you were standing right in front of him. He watched every step, expression still guarded but eyes softer now, tracking you like he couldn’t look away.

You leaned down, cupped his cheek gently with one hand, and pressed a quick, soft kiss to the other cheek.

His eyes widened... comically, for half a second. The faint pout that had been forming on his lips froze, then deepened into something even more unfairly cute.

You pulled back, grinning. “There. Feel better?”

You started to straighten.

His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist—not hard, just firm enough to stop you mid-step.

Before you could react, he tugged.

You stumbled forward with a small yelp.

He guided you down effortlessly, pulling you onto his lap until you were straddling him on the wide couch, knees sinking into the leather on either side of his hips, hands braced on his shoulders.

“Yoongi—”

He didn’t let you finish.

One hand slid to the back of your neck, the other curled possessively around your waist, and he kissed you.

Not the soft forehead pecks or the quick cheek brushes of the past few weeks.

This was different.

This was hungry.

His lips moved against yours with quiet, deliberate intensity—like he’d been holding this back for longer than he’d ever admit. You gasped softly into his mouth and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tilting his head just enough to fit perfectly.

Your fingers found his hair, threading through the dark strands, tugging lightly. He made a low sound in the back of his throat... half growl, half sigh, that sent heat racing down your spine.

The kiss turned heated fast.

His hands slid under your blouse, palms warm and broad against the bare skin of your lower back, pulling you closer until your chest was flush against his. You rocked forward instinctively, hips pressing down, and he groaned—quiet, controlled, but unmistakable.

The sound vibrated straight through you.

One hand left your back to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your cheekbone as he kissed you slower now, deeper, savoring every slide of tongue, every small sound you made.

The couch leather creaked softly beneath you both.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, lips hovering over his, swollen and slick.

“Still jealous?” you whispered, voice wrecked, teasing.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead he dragged his teeth lightly over your bottom lip, tugging before releasing it with a soft pop. “Shut up,” he muttered, but there was no real bite in it—only heat.

You grinned against his mouth. “Make me.”

His eyes darkened instantly. “Careful what you ask for.”

Before you could fire back, he kissed you again—harder this time, possessive, one hand sliding up your spine under the blouse until his fingers splayed between your shoulder blades, holding you exactly where he wanted.

You whimpered into his mouth when he nipped at your tongue, then soothed it with a slow, filthy lick. Your hips rolled down again—deliberate this time.

He hissed through his teeth, fingers digging into your waist.

“Fuck,” he breathed against your lips, the rare curse slipping out like he couldn’t help it. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You pulled his hair a little harder, tilting his head back so you could kiss along the sharp line of his jaw. “You’re so dramatic.”

He let his head fall back against the couch for a second, throat exposed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Then his hands slid lower, gripping your hips, guiding you into another slow grind that made both of you gasp.

“Not dramatic,” he rasped. “Territorial.”

You nipped at the spot just under his ear... the one that always made him shiver. “Say it properly.”

He turned his face, catching your lips again in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. “You’re mine,” he said between kisses, voice gravel-rough. “Not his noona. Not anyone’s. Mine.”

You moaned softly, fingers tightening in his hair. “Then prove it.”

His control snapped—just a little.

In one smooth motion he flipped you both so your back hit the couch cushions, him hovering over you, one knee braced between your thighs. The new angle pressed him right where you wanted, hard and insistent through his slacks.

You arched up instinctively, chasing friction, and he dropped his forehead to yours with a strangled sound.

“Tease,” he accused, voice wrecked.

“Says the man who dragged me onto his lap in the middle of the workday.”

He leaned down slowly, eyes locked on yours, dark and intent.

His fingers found the top button of your blouse. One by one he worked them open watching your face the entire time. The fabric parted inch by inch, revealing skin, lace, the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

When the last button gave way, he didn’t pull the blouse completely off; he simply pushed the sides apart, letting the material slide off your shoulders just enough to pool loosely around your elbows, trapping your arms in the softest, most teasing restraint.

Only then did his mouth find your neck.

Open-mouthed kisses, teeth grazing, sucking lightly enough to leave faint marks you’d have to hide tomorrow. You tilted your head back, giving him more room, fingers digging into his shoulders through his shirt.

“Yoongi…” His name came out like a plea.

He hummed against your skin, pleased, the vibration traveling straight down your spine. “Say it again.”

“Yoongi,” you breathed, louder this time, hips chasing up in a slow, deliberate grind. “Please.”

He groaned, low and filthy, and kissed you once more... desperate now, all pretense gone. Hands everywhere. Hips rocking together in a rhythm that had the couch creaking louder, leather protesting under the movement.

When you finally broke apart again, both of you were panting, foreheads pressed together, hair mussed, clothes askew—your blouse hanging open and draped around your elbows, his shirt half-untucked, tie completely forgotten somewhere on the floor.

He looked down at you... eyes blown dark, lips red and wet, expression wrecked and possessive and so unbearably soft at the edges.

“You’re ridiculous,” you whispered, lips brushing his as you spoke. “Jealous over a freshly graduate intern.”

He huffed a laugh against your mouth... short, breathless, the sound vibrating through your chest. “He called you noona.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him. His hair was mussed, lips red and wet, eyes dark and a little dazed. Still grumpy, but the possessiveness in his gaze was unmistakable.

“You’re mine,” he said quietly. Not a question... Not a demand...

Just a fact he was stating.

Your heart stuttered.

You leaned in again, pressing one more soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I am.”

He kissed you once more... slow this time, almost gentle... then rested his forehead against yours, hands still firm on your waist.

“Stay for lunch,” he said, voice rougher than usual. “Here... No interns.”

You laughed softly. “Deal. But only if you admit you were jealous.”

He sighed again—long, dramatic. “...Maybe.”

You grinned, pressing one last teasing kiss to his pout.

The conference room was dead silent except for the low hum of the air conditioning and the occasional nervous cough from the marketing team.

The quarterly strategy presentation was in full swing.

Yoongi sat at the head of the long table, arms crossed, expression carved from stone... pure intimidating CEO mode. His dark eyes scanned every slide like he was personally auditing the company’s soul.

The team was sweating. Literally sweating...

Someone’s tie looked two sizes too tight, and the intern Jungkook kept wiping his palms on his pants under the table. You were midway through your section, laser pointer steady, voice professional, when your phone buzzed once against your thigh.

You glanced down under the table.

Notification: Episode 25 of Love in the Slow Lane – FINALE RELEASED!

Your automatic sunshine smile broke through before you could stop it. Without thinking... because your brain apparently short-circuited at the words “finale released”—you unlocked your phone under the table and fired off a quick text to the only person who would understand the urgency.

You: Final episode dropped... 🥰🤩

You hit send and slipped the phone back into your lap, heart already racing with excitement.

Two seconds later, your laptop—currently screen-sharing to the projector—lit up with the incoming message notification in massive, crystal-clear letters across the entire wall.

Yoongi: DON’T YOU DARE WATCH WITHOUT ME.

The chat bubble hovered there for everyone to see. Bold. Unmissable. Phone mirroring had betrayed you in the most spectacular way possible.

The room froze.

Marketing team manager Mr. Park slowly turned his head toward you like a horror-movie ghost. Then toward Yoongi. Then back to you. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

Namjoon, Jimin, and Hoseok, who had been sitting in the back row pretending to take notes... were visibly fighting for their lives. Namjoon had both hands clamped over his mouth, shoulders shaking.

Jimin was biting his lip so hard it was turning white, eyes watering with suppressed laughter. Hoseok had pressed his forehead to the table and was making tiny wheezing noises into his sleeve.

Jungkook, the poor innocent intern, stared at the projector with wide bunny eyes, mouth forming a perfect O. “Wait… what?”

A stunned whisper floated from the left side of the table.

“…without him?”

Another, louder: “Episode?”

Then Jungkook... bless his pure innocent heart... whispered in absolute shock, “They… watch dramas together??”

The entire room turned into a sea of 👁️👄👁️ faces. Someone dropped their pen. Another person’s coffee cup tilted dangerously.

Yoongi didn’t even blink.

He simply leaned back in his chair, voice calm and terrifyingly composed. “Miss Y/N, you may continue with the presentation.”

You felt your soul leave your body, hover near the ceiling for a second, then slam back in.

Your face was on fire.

You cleared your throat, somehow managed to point at the next slide with a trembling laser, and continued like the professional you were pretending to be. “A-as I was saying… the proposed budget allocation for Q3 campaigns…”

The rest of the meeting dragged on in awkward, electric silence.

Namjoon had to fake a coughing fit to hide his laughter.

Jimin kept muttering “oh my god when this meeting will end” under his breath.

Hoseok was now hiding behind his notebook, shoulders still shaking.

Jungkook looked like he’d just discovered his favorite noona was secretly living in a K-drama.

When the final slide clicked off and the lights came back up, Yoongi stood slowly, buttoning his suit jacket with the same calm precision he used for everything else.

Before anyone could bolt or start whispering, he spoke—casual, low, like he was announcing the weather.

“Before any of you decide to spread rumors in the group chat, let me make this clear.” He glanced once around the room, then settled his gaze on you. “She is my girlfriend.”

The silence that followed was so complete you could hear the sound of your heart thumping so louder.

Yoongi continued, completely unbothered. “We’ve been together for a while now.” A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Any questions?”

No one dared.

Jungkook’s hand shot up instinctively, then immediately dropped like he’d touched a hot stove.

Namjoon finally lost the battle and let out a strangled laugh-snort into his fist. Jimin wheezed, “I NEED AIR!” while Hoseok just clapped once, slow and proud, muttering, “Finally.”

Yoongi looked at you across the table, eyes soft in that secret way only you could read. “Meeting adjourned.”

You stood there, blouse still perfectly professional, cheeks burning, heart doing cartwheels. The entire marketing floor was about to explode with gossip.

And you?

You were officially, publicly, undeniably the CEO’s girlfriend.

Destiny really had chosen violence today.

The building had gone completely quiet by the time you slipped into Yoongi’s office. The last fluorescent light in the hallway flickered off behind you as the door clicked shut.

He was already on the couch, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled to his elbows, looking far too relaxed for someone who’d just detonated your secret life in front of whole marketing department.

You crossed your arms and launched in immediately.

“Why are you so harsh on the marketing team? My manager was literally shaking before the meeting even started. You stared at him like he personally invented budget overruns.”

Yoongi didn’t reply.

Instead he reached out, fingers curling around your wrist, and tugged you forward until you stood between his knees. Before you could pull away, he stood up and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss along your jaw.

You tried to keep your scolding tone. “And don’t think you can distract me. Announcing we’re dating in the middle of a quarterly strategy meeting? Really? Everyone's eyes were this big...”

You held up two fingers an inch apart “...and Namjoon nearly choked on air trying not to laugh. The whole room went silent. Like funeral silent.”

His lips moved lower, trailing hot kisses down the side of your neck, sucking gently at the spot that always made your breath hitch.

You kept going, voice faltering only slightly. “You can’t just... mhmm—drop ‘she’s my girlfriend’ like it’s the weather forecast. People are going to talk. HR is going to talk. I was trying to act normal and you...”

He kissed the corner of your mouth, then the tip of your nose, then your cheek... soft, teasing pecks that melted the edges of your fake anger.

His hands slid to your waist, pulling you down on the couch with him until you were straddling his lap, skirt riding up your thighs.

You kept going, even as your voice started to breath. “And don’t think I missed how you looked at me the whole meeting like you were already planning this. Ughhh... You’re impossible. I came here to be mad at you, not—”

Yoongi hummed against your skin, the vibration sending sparks straight down your spine. “Keep complaining,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. “I like it when you’re feisty.”

You tried. You really did. “The finale dropped and now everyone knows we watch dramas together and... wait, what about the finale? We were supposed to watch it tonight—”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, dark and hungry.

“Fuck the finale,” he said, voice low and rough. “We can watch it tomorrow.”

Then he kissed you properly... deep and filthy, tongue sliding against yours like he was starving for it.

Your complaints dissolved into a soft moan as his hands roamed up your sides, fingers deftly working the buttons of your blouse open one by one.

He parted it slowly, pushing the sides apart to reveal your bra, then reached behind you to unhook it with a single practiced flick. The lace fell away and he palmed your breasts immediately, thumbs circling your nipples until they hardened under his touch.

“Yoongi... wait... we’re still in the office—”

“Empty building,” he murmured against your throat, teeth grazing your pulse. “Door's locked... No one’s coming back.”

You rocked down against the hard length straining through his slacks, already wet and aching. “You’re impossible. I came here to yell at you.”

He chuckled low in his chest, the sound vibrating through you. “Yell louder then.” His fingers slipped under your skirt, pushing your panties aside, stroking through your slick folds. “Or moan my name. Either works.”

You gasped when he circled your clit, slow and teasing. “This isn’t fair.”

“Never said I play fair.”

You arched into him with a whimper. “Yoongi—”

He hummed approval against your mouth, pinching lightly, rolling the peaks between his fingers until you were squirming in his lap.

“Love when you say my name like that,” he murmured, voice gravel-rough. “Keep going.”

His mouth left yours to trail down your throat, open-mouthed kisses turning into bites and sucks that would leave faint purple marks by morning.

When he reached your breasts he didn’t hesitate—lips closing around one nipple, tongue flicking, then sucking hard enough to make you cry out.

His hand worked the other, pinching and tugging in rhythm with his mouth until you were panting, fingers tangled in his hair, hips grinding down desperately. “Yoongi... please—”

He switched sides, giving the other nipple the same filthy attention, teeth grazing just enough to sting sweetly. “So sensitive,” he rasped against your skin. “Already dripping for me and I have just started.”

You whined, tugging his hair harder. “Then touch me properly.”

He lifted you just enough to shove your skirt up to your waist, fingers hooking into your panties and dragging them down your thighs in one slow, deliberate pull.

You kicked them off somewhere behind the couch, the soft fabric whispering against the floor.

His hand slid between your legs immediately... two fingers stroking through your slick folds, parting you gently before circling your clit once, twice, slow and teasing.

You gasped, head falling back against the couch cushion. “Fuck... Fuck... yes—”

He watched your face intently, eyes dark and focused. “Already this soaked,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Just from me calling you mine in front of the whole room?”

You nodded frantically, hips twitching toward his hand. “Yes—God, yes... couldn’t stop thinking about it—”

“About what?” He pushed both fingers inside you in one smooth glide, curling them upward right away, pressing against that spot that made your breath hitch. “Tell me.”

You moaned, thighs trembling. “About… about how you looked at me. Like you wanted to drag me out of there right then. Claim me.”

He groaned at your words, pumping slowly at first, long, deep strokes—then faster, thumb finding your clit again and rubbing tight, relentless circles.

“I did,” he rasped. “Still do. Every time someone looks at you too long I want to remind them who you belong to.”

“Yoongi...” Your voice cracked on his name as he curled harder, scissoring his fingers slightly to stretch you. “...Fuck—right there... don’t stop—”

“Like this?” He angled his wrist, pressing deeper, thumb never leaving your clit. “Or harder?”

“Harder... please—fuck, just like that...”

He added a third finger without warning, the stretch burning sweetly, filling you completely. You cried out, back arching off the couch, walls clenching around him.

“Too much?” he asked, voice suddenly softer, though his fingers didn’t slow.

“No... no... perfect,” you panted, hips rocking desperately to meet every thrust. “Feels so good... don’t you dare stop—”

He leaned closer, lips brushing your ear. “You’re dripping down my hand, baby. Making such a mess. All because I said you’re mine?”

“Yes... yes—yours... only yours—” You were babbling now, words tumbling out between moans. “Keep going... please... gonna come—”

Your thighs shook violently, walls fluttering wildly around him. “Yoongi... close—fuck... I’m...”

Then he pulled out suddenly, ignoring your frustrated whine.

“Not yet,” he said, voice wrecked and gravelly from restraint. “Want to taste you first.”

He flipped you onto your back on the couch in one smooth, practiced motion, spreading your thighs wide with firm hands. Before you could even catch your breath, his mouth was on you—tongue flat and broad, dragging a long, slow stripe up your center from entrance to clit.

The first contact made your hips jerk off the leather. “Fuck... Yoongi..”

He hummed in approval against your folds, the low vibration traveling straight through your core. “You are so wet for me,” he murmured, lips brushing your clit as he spoke. “Taste so fucking good.”

You cried out when he sucked your clit into his mouth—gentle at first, then harder, flicking the tip of his tongue in tight, rapid circles.

Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling and tugging hard enough to make him groan into you.

“Like that?” he rasped between licks, pulling back just enough for you to feel the words against your swollen flesh. “Tell me.”

“Yes—Go deep, yes... don’t stop... ”

He plunged his tongue inside you then, fucking you with it in slow, deep strokes while his thumbs spread you open wider, exposing every sensitive inch. You bucked against his face, thighs trembling.

“Yoongi... oh my God... right there—”

He growled low, the sound rumbling through you like thunder. “That’s it. Ride my tongue, baby. Use me.”

You did... hips grinding shamelessly against his mouth, chasing the pressure of his tongue curling inside you. He pulled back for a second, lips glistening, eyes dark and blown as he looked up at you.

“Look at you,” he said hoarsely, voice thick with want. “Falling apart just from my mouth. So fucking pretty when you’re desperate.”

“Yoongi... please—” Your voice cracked, hips canting up toward him. “I need—more... ”

He didn’t make you beg twice.

He dove back in, lips sealing around your clit again, sucking hard while two fingers slid inside you—curling immediately against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

He pumped them in time with the flick of his tongue, relentless, filthy wet sounds filling the quiet office.

“Gonna come for me?” he asked, words muffled against your pussy. “Want to feel you come on my tongue. Want to taste it.”

“Y-Yes—fuck... yes...”

He sucked harder, fingers curling faster, thumb pressing firm circles just above where his mouth worked. The coil in your belly snapped without warning.

You came hard and fast, thighs clamping around his head, back arching off the couch, a broken, loud moan of his name tearing from your throat as you pulsed around his fingers and tongue.

He didn’t stop... kept licking you through it, slower now, gentler, drawing out every aftershock until you were whimpering, oversensitive and shaking.

When he finally pulled back, lips and chin shiny, he crawled up your body, pressing soft, wet kisses along your stomach, between your breasts, finally to your mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he murmured against your lips, kissing you deep so you could taste the evidence of your release on his tongue.

You moaned into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck, boneless and wrecked.

“Still mad at me?” he whispered, smirking against your lips.

You laughed breathlessly, fingers tangled in his hair around nape. “Shut up and fuck me already.”

He chuckled low, already reaching for his belt. “Yes, ma’am.”

He rose up just enough to shove his pants and boxers down his thighs, cock springing free—thick, hard, already leaking at the tip. He lined up carefully, eyes never leaving yours, and pushed inside in one slow, deep stroke.

Both of you groaned at the stretch, low and long.

“Fuck,” he hissed, voice softer now, almost reverent. “So tight… always feel so fucking perfect around me.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, ankles crossing at the small of his back, pulling him deeper until there was no space left between you. Your hands slid up his arms, fingers curling around his biceps.

“Yoongi…” you breathed, voice trembling with how full you felt. “Slow… please. Just like this.”

He stilled for a heartbeat, forehead dropping to rest against yours, breathing you in. Then he began to move... long, measured rolls of his hips, dragging out every inch on the withdrawal before sliding back in just as deep.

The couch creaked softly beneath you, a gentle rhythm now instead of frantic.

“Like this?” he murmured, lips brushing your temple. “Just feel me?”

You nodded, eyes fluttering. “Yeah… just like that. Don’t stop.”

One of his hands cradled the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair. The other slipped between your bodies, fingertips finding your clit and circling with the lightest pressure—enough to keep the pleasure building slow and steady, never rushing.

“Look at me,” he whispered when your lashes started to flutter shut again. His voice was rough with emotion, not command. “Want to see you. Every second.”

You forced your eyes open, meeting his dark, unguarded gaze. There was no smirk, no teasing glint... just raw adoration and something achingly tender.

“Yoongi…” Your voice cracked on his name. “I love you.”

The words slipped out unplanned, quiet and certain.

He froze for half a breath, then exhaled shakily against your mouth. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” you repeated, softer, fingers tightening in his hair. “So much.”

He kissed you then—slow, deep, swallowing the tiny sound you made as he rolled his hips in that same gentle rhythm. When he pulled back just enough to speak, his voice was wrecked.

“Love you too,” he said against your lips, the confession almost a groan. “Fuck… love you so much it hurts sometimes.”

Your walls fluttered around him at the words.

He felt it... groaned low in his throat—and kept moving, steady, unhurried, letting the pleasure build like a tide.

“You’re close again,” he murmured, thumb still circling your clit with feather-light touches. “Can feel you squeezing me… so sweet.”

You nodded frantically, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from how good it felt, how full, how loved. “Yoongi... please—”

“Come with me,” he rasped, pressing his forehead to yours again. “Want to feel you come around me while I’m inside you. Just us.”

The words, the gentle grind of his hips, the soft circles of his thumb—it all crested at once.

You came with a soft, broken cry of his name, clenching tight around him, trembling from head to toe. Tears slipped down your temples as the pleasure rolled through you in long, warm waves.

He followed right after—burying himself as deep as he could go, hips stuttering, a low, wrecked groan tearing from his throat as he spilled inside you.

For a long minute you just breathed... sweaty, tangled, hearts hammering against each other.

He didn’t pull out.

Instead he shifted carefully, rolling so you were draped across his chest, still connected, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go.

“Stay like this,” he whispered into your hair, voice thick. “Just a little longer.”

You pressed a trembling kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Always.”

He exhaled shakily, one hand stroking slow circles on your bare back.

“Love you,” he said again, quieter this time, like the words were still new and precious.

You smiled against his skin, eyes closing. “Love you more.”

As the moment settled down, you finally laughed weakly, fingers carding through his damp hair. “So… we’re really doing this? Full public dating era?”

He pressed a lazy kiss to your temple. “Told you. You’re mine.”

You tilted his chin up, meeting his eyes. “And you’re mine. No more glaring at interns. Or announcing things in meetings without warning me.”

He smirked. “No promises.”

You swatted his shoulder lightly. “Yoongi.”

“Fine,” he conceded, kissing your palm. “I’ll warn you next time. Maybe.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile wouldn’t leave your face. “And the finale?”

“Tomorrow,” he promised, already nuzzling back into your neck. “Your place. Snacks. No interruptions. Then I’ll love you on your couch too.”

You laughed, bright and helpless. “Deal.”

He hummed contentedly, arms tightening around you. “Stay with me at my penthouse tonight,” he murmured against your skin.

And as the city lights glittered outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, you let yourself melt completely into the man who had turned your entire life into the best kind of k-drama.

A/n: Guys, can somebody let me know why Yoongi is bias wrecking me so bad currently? Also Thanks to him, I am still sobbing while listening to Like Animals, especially the lyrics of his verse😭😭😭