Tannie's Lily

But he had no file.

That was the problem.

The man sitting across from you in Room 7 did not exist in any official capacity.

No intake form. No admission date. No next of kin. No medication chart. No incident history. No diagnosis. No discharge status.

Only a photograph tucked inside his brother’s file with half the page burned away.

And one handwritten note beneath it:

Do not separate them.

You sat with your knees together, notebook balanced on your lap, pen held too tightly between your fingers. The room smelled of antiseptic, rain, old linen, and something warmer beneath it, something almost impossible inside a psychiatric ward. Amber. Skin. Smoke that had never touched fire.

He sat on the patient’s bed, one bare foot resting against the floor, the other leg bent lazily beneath him. His white institutional shirt was unbuttoned at the throat. His dark hair fell slightly over his eyes, not enough to hide them. Nothing about him looked restrained, though the room had been built for containment.

Padded walls. Bolted bed. Reinforced glass. No loose furniture except your chair.

And him.

He watched you like he knew you were the dangerous object in the room.

“You understand this cannot be a formal session,” you said.

His mouth curved slightly. “Then why bring the notebook?”

“Habit.”

“No.” His eyes dropped to your hands. “Armour.”

You did not look down.

He smiled as if that pleased him. As if stillness confirmed more than movement ever could.

“You do that well,” he said.

“What?”

“Stay beautiful under pressure.”

The pen paused.

A careful psychiatrist would have corrected him. A colder one would have ended the session. A wiser woman would have stood, walked to the door, and told security there was an unregistered man inside Room 7 who knew too much about where to aim his voice.

You did none of those things.

Instead, you wrote one sentence in your notebook.

Subject displays inappropriate familiarity.

His eyes flicked to the page.

“You spelled afraid wrong.”

Your stomach tightened.

“You cannot read that from there.”

“No,” he said softly. “But I can read you.”

The rain pressed against the barred window, soft and constant. Somewhere beyond the room, an orderly’s shoes squeaked against polished floor. The asylum breathed around you in old pipes and locked doors.

You shifted your posture by an inch.

His gaze followed.

“You are not my patient,” you said.

“No.”

“You are not on the schedule.”

“No.”

“You are not supposed to be in this room.”

His smile faded then, not into anger, but into something more intimate.

“Neither are you.”

The words landed too quietly.

You looked up from the notebook.

“I am his psychiatrist.”

“My brother has had thirteen psychiatrists.”

“Four,” you corrected.

“That you know of.”

You said nothing.

He tilted his head. “They all came in with pens. Questions. Soft voices. Shoes that made them sound braver in the corridor than they were in the room.” His eyes moved over your face with insolent patience. “You are the first one he has not tried to frighten away.”

“Should that concern me?”

“It concerns me.”

That was the first honest thing he had said.

You felt it because the room felt it. The air changed around those three words, drawing closer, tightening the space between the chair and the bed until the distance seemed less clinical and more invented.

“Why?” you asked.

His gaze lowered to your mouth for one second.

Then returned to your eyes.

“Because he likes pretty broken things.”

You inhaled slowly.

“I am not broken.”

“No?” His voice softened. “Then why did you choose a profession where people open their wounds for you and thank you for not flinching?”

The question was too precise.

You closed the notebook.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

“Careful, Doctor,” he murmured. “That looked like a feeling.”

“Do not analyse me.”

“Why? You came here to analyse me.”

“You invited me.”

“I did.” He leaned back on his hands, shirt pulling open slightly at the throat. There were scars near his collarbone. Pale ones. Old ones. One curved like a crescent bitten into the skin. “And you came without telling anyone.”

Your silence was answer enough.

His expression warmed with something that should not have felt like praise.

“Good girl.”

The words moved through you before you could stop them.

Not visibly. You were too trained for that. Your face stayed calm, your spine straight, your knees together, your hands composed over the closed notebook.

But he saw it anyway.

His smile returned, slow and dangerous.

“Oh,” he said. “That one lives under the skin.”

You stood.

Mistake.

His gaze followed the movement with such quiet satisfaction that you knew he had wanted to see what it took to make you abandon the chair.

“This session is over.”

“It was never a session.”

You walked to the door and pressed the call button.

Nothing happened.

You pressed again.

The light above the panel stayed dead.

Behind you, the bed creaked.

“Do not do that,” you said.

He stopped moving.

That should have relieved you.

It did not.

Because obedience from him felt more dangerous than defiance.

Slowly, you turned.

He was still seated on the bed, exactly where he had been before, hands resting loosely on the mattress, head tilted as he watched you with maddening calm.

“I did not touch the door,” he said.

“Then who did?”

His eyes lifted toward the camera in the corner.

The red light was off.

Your pulse changed.

He saw that too.

“Saint Verity likes privacy when it wants something to happen,” he said.

The rain grew louder.

You should have been afraid.

You were.

But fear was not the only thing moving beneath your ribs.

There was anger too. Curiosity. The dark, humiliating thrill of being inside a room where all your language had stopped working. You knew the names for this. Countertransference. Boundary erosion. Eroticised danger. Trauma projection. Institutional manipulation. A dozen clean clinical phrases for the fact that your skin had become too aware of a man you had no right to be alone with.

Knowing the name of the trap did not make the trap less beautiful.

“You and your brother,” you said carefully, “use different methods.”

That interested him.

“How so?”

“He seduces with confession.”

“And I?”

You looked at him for a moment too long.

“You seduce with threat.”

His expression changed.

Not a smile this time.

Something hungrier.

“And yet,” he said, voice lower, “you are still in the room.”

“The door is locked.”

“You were still in the room before the door locked.”

Your throat moved.

He stood then.

Slowly.

Not because he needed to. Because he wanted you to have time to tell him not to.

You did not.

He crossed only half the room before stopping. Close enough now that the asylum light made his eyes look almost black. Far enough that the space between you still pretended to be professional.

“You should leave us alone,” he said.

“Us?”

“My brother and I.”

“That sounds like a warning.”

“It is.”

“Why?”

His jaw flexed once.

“You will try to save him.”

“That is my job.”

“No.” He stepped closer. “Your job is to treat him. There is a difference.”

“And what will I try to save him from?”

His eyes moved over your face with something almost cruel in its tenderness.

“Me.”

That should have been the moment you understood him.

Instead, it became the moment you wanted to.

You looked at the scar near his throat again. The unbuttoned shirt. The bare feet. The stillness. The way every dangerous thing about him seemed arranged around one private ache he would rather turn into a weapon than show you openly.

“You love him,” you said.

He laughed once. No humour in it.

“Love is too small a word for what we survived.”

“Then what word would you use?”

He looked toward the bed.

You followed his gaze.

For the first time, you noticed the faint groove worn into the floorboards beside it, as if someone had paced there for years. Back and forth. Bed to window. Window to bed. Door to bed. Brother to brother. A lifetime made of the same few steps.

“When we were children,” he said, “he used to sleep with his hand under the bed.”

You looked back at him.

His face was unreadable now.

“He said if the monster came, he would hold its hand before it could climb out.”

Your chest tightened.

“And did it?”

His eyes returned to yours.

“Yes.”

The word was almost gentle.

You should not have asked the next question.

You did anyway.

“Were you the monster?”

He stepped closer.

This time, you stepped back.

Your shoulders touched the door.

He noticed. He stopped immediately. That restraint was worse than being cornered. It made him look less like a threat and more like a man choosing, second by second, not to become one.

“I was the thing under the bed,” he said. “He was the only one who ever reached for me.”

The confession entered you softly.

That was how he did it, you realized.

Not with his brother’s polished cruelty. Not with pretty words and carefully placed wounds.

He gave you a knife by the handle and watched whether you would cut him with it.

“Then why are you warning me away from him?” you asked.

His gaze dropped again. Mouth. Throat. Hands. Notebook. Back to your eyes.

“Because he is starting to reach for you.”

Silence.

Your body betrayed you with one shallow breath.

His eyes darkened.

“And because,” he continued, softer now, “I am starting to understand why.”

You could hear rain. Pipes. Your own pulse. Somewhere outside Room 7, a lock clicked open, then shut again, as if the asylum itself had changed its mind.

“You should not say that to me.”

“No.”

“I am a doctor here.”

“Yes.”

“You are—”

“What?” he asked.

A patient.

A ghost.

A man with no file.

A brother.

A warning.

A monster beneath a bed who had learned how to look human in the dark.

You did not say any of it.

His face softened as if he had heard you anyway.

“You are very quiet when you are afraid of wanting something.”

Heat moved up your throat.

You hated him for noticing.

You hated more that he was right.

“I am not afraid of you,” you said.

His mouth curved, barely.

“Liar.”

He lifted one hand slowly. Not touching you. Not yet. His fingers hovered near the collar of your blouse, close enough for you to feel the warmth of him without contact.

“Tell me to move away,” he said.

You looked at his hand.

Then at his face.

The words were there. Simple. Ethical. Necessary.

Move away.

You did not say them.

His fingers touched the edge of your collar with devastating softness.

Not skin.

Fabric.

That somehow made it worse.

The smallest contact. The most careful trespass.

You closed your eyes for half a second.

He inhaled like the sight cost him something.

When you opened them, his hand was gone.

He had stepped back.

The distance returned so suddenly you almost swayed toward the absence.

He saw that too.

His expression flickered.

Not triumph.

Pain.

“Go,” he said.

The call button lit beside your shoulder.

The door unlocked.

You stared at him.

He turned away first, returning to the bed with the same barefoot silence, the same terrible grace. By the time you opened the door, he was sitting where you had found him, one foot on the floor, one leg bent beneath him, beautiful and unreal beneath the asylum light.

You stepped into the corridor.

The camera above Room 7 blinked red again.

Behind you, his voice followed, quiet enough that no one else would have heard.

“Doctor?”

You stopped.

You should not have turned.

You turned.

He looked at you through the narrow opening of the door.

“Next time,” he said, “record the session.”

Your hand tightened around the notebook.

“Why?”

His smile came slowly.

“Because I want you to hear the moment you stopped lying to yourself.”

The door closed between you.

For a long time, you stood in the corridor with your pulse in your throat and his words beneath your skin.

Then you opened your notebook.

Beneath the first clinical note, in handwriting less steady than before, you wrote:

Subject displays inappropriate familiarity.

You stared at the sentence.

Then, slowly, you added:

“From the 가나 to the 하, 우리 보고 배워놔

Yeah, we aliens

If you wanna hit my house, 신발은 벗어놔

Yeah, we aliens “

Jungkook sung the lyrics with pride from their recent comeback album, this was the first album the seven had presented for their fans in over two years. 

And man did it feel good to be back. 

The stadium was a living, breathing ocean of ARMY bombs pulsed in a synchronized rhythm of green to match the vibe of the song. A rhythmic heartbeat of light that transformed the darkness into a shimmering galaxy, something one BTS and ARMY alone could achieve.

The air was thick with anticipation, a static charge that made the hair on the back of people’s neck stand up. From the first bass drop from Hooligan to the rhythmic soothing of Animal, it wasn’t just noise, it was a physical force, a thunderous vibration that rattled your ribs and synchronized your pulse to the percussion. The volume was like a weightless blanket pressing against your skin. 

On stage, the members were silhouettes against a blinding wall of LED pyrotechnics and laser beams that sliced through the haze on a 360 degree stage that left no room for mistakes.

The heat from the stage light and the collective breath of the crowd created a microclimate of pure intensity, sweat glistening like diamonds on their skin as they moved with a precision that defied gravity. Every elongated glace, sly smirk or confident wink catches the hearts of ARMY everywhere. But of course it wouldn't be BTS without them having some fun. 

 Jin laughs because Jungkook almost misses his cue.

Taehyung accidentally bumps shoulders with Jimin and they laugh mid-performance.

Hoseok improvises because the vibes on stage called for it and of course the members played along. 

 A blast of air sent a blizzard of silver confetti swirling into the rafters, catching the green glow and spinning like falling stars. Adrenaline surged through your veins, a dizzying, electric high that made every scream feel like a release. In this moment, under the kaleidoscope of strobes and the deafening roar of the fanchants, the rest of the world ceased to exist—there was only the music, the light, and the overwhelming power of the message the wanted everyone to receive. 

The final chords of "Into the Sun" crashed through the stadium, a symphonic explosion that seemed to burn the very air. The stage was bathed in a searing, brilliant gold—not the chaotic strobes of earlier, but a steady, blinding radiance that felt like looking directly into the dawn. You could see the members, their chests heaving, sweat painting their skin, giving everything they had left to this final moment.  

“Thank you ARMYYYY” the guys said sweetly before waving and blowing kisses.

The cheers.

The lights.

The silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dressing room was quiet in the way only it could be after a sold-out show.

Yoongi and Seokjin eating some left over snacks. 

Jungkook, Taehyung and Hoseok casually talking while drinking some water. 

Jimin is removing washing his face and running his fingers through his hair in a failed attempt to soothe his raging headache that didn’t leave him before the concert. 

“I still have that annoying headache. You think ARMY noticed I was off a bit?” Jimin asked with a hint of concern. He always wants to be perfect for ARMY. 

Yoongi chuckles “They notice tattoos before we even reveal, of course they noticed.” Yoongi chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. You still looked good out there.” 

Jimin smiled softly before resting his head on the vanity table. 

The room went back to it comfortable state until a staff member walks in. 

A black envelope slides across a dressing room table where Namjoon sat, reading his book.

“Monaco, wheels leave in 90 minutes.” 

He turns to leave along with every staff member. 

Yoongi and Seokjin continue to eat. 

Jimin continues to rest his eyes. 

The chatter between Jungkook, Taehyung and Hoseok remains light and youthful,

~~~~~

The was dark, the only light coming from the passing streetlamps that rhythmically swept over their faces. 

It was a stark contrast to the blinding LEDs of the stadium just an hour ago. 

No one spoke; the heavy silence was filled only by the low rumble of the engine and the soft, distracted hum coming from Taehyung. He was still vibrating on the frequency of the last song, Into The Sun, a low tuneless melody caught in his throat. 

Jungkook shifted, his boots scraping against the floorboard. He slumped further into his seat, dropping his phone into his lap and removing his left airpod. His eyes fixed on the back of the driver’s head. 

“I’m starving,” he muttered, the complaint lacking any real energy, just a flat statement of fact. Seokjin hummed in agreement. 

“We need to eat,” Jin added, his voice raspy. The driver didn’t even turn his head, his gaze focused out the window, eyes glued to the road. “We can have it ready for you once we get to the jet.”

“What do you want? Don’t say burgers again.” Yoongi mumbled with his eyes closed and his head resting on the head rest. Jimin had fallen asleep on Yoongi’s shoulder but waking up immediately for the dinner debate. “Yeah, I’m tired of burgers too.” he added. 

Groans and teeth sucking filled the air almost immediately. 

“What do you mean you’re tired of burgers?” Taehyung looked genuinely offended.

“We’ve had burgers almost every night, if I see another one I might lose my mind.” Yoongi said, still in his relaxed state. 

“What do you have in mind?” Hoseok said, shifting in his seat a little. 

“How about Ramen?” Jimin said. 

Even more grunts and groans filled the small area. 

“Burgers are one thing but instant ramen is something I’m not interested in right now.” Namjoon said. 

“Well it’s not like we can make proper ramen right now, we’re going to be in the air,” Jimin said, crossing his arms. 

Jungkook began to rub his temples "I seriously don't care what we eat anymore. Somebody just order something before I lose it."

The van rolled on, just seven tired men in a metal box, trading complaints about dinner like it was just another night. 

~~~~~~~~~

Stepping out of the van and greeting the few ARMYS that happened to be waiting on the outside alongside the flashing lenses of cameras was second nature to them. Even in their exhausted state, the transition from the quiet enclosure of the vehicle to the public eye happened in an instant, a synchronized shift into, for lack of a better term, performance mode. 

Once again, they put their weariness aside to mirror the energy of the people who had waited hours just to catch a glimpse of them. Because they loved ARMY just that much.

Large loving smiles broke across their faces, bright enough to mask the fatigue etched around their eyes. 

Finger hearts were raised toward the small crowd, small gestures of gratitude offered to the dedicated fans standing behind the security barriers. 

And funny poses filled the hearts of ARMYS, providing familiar comfort while they continued their way through the glass doors and into the customs area. 

Settled in the jet now, everyone munching on their decided dinner with light conversations. Namjoon pulls the black envelope out of his carry on bag. 

The conversation faded naturally.

Taehyung stopped humming.

Jungkook leaned forward.

Even Yoongi slowed his eating.

Seven pairs of eyes settled on Namjoon.

He studies the papers, only commenting on little details. 

“Highest bidder, private collector…” he rambles on. 

He flips the page and an amused grin forms on his face. 

“We’re not the only team.” 

Silence. 

“...Agency?” Hoseok asks, forgetting his food entirely. 

Namjoon nods once. Jungkook immediately groans throwing his head back dramatically. 

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” he says looking at Namjoon. “This is going to be a pain” 

“Maybe this time she’ll actually say hello.” Taehyung said with a light chuckle. 

“She shot your tire last time.” Yoongi said flatly. 

“...maybe that was her way of saying hello.” 

Namjoon continues to read the rest of the file, internalizing every detail to his memory until his eyes land on a single photo. A small smile lands on his lips. 

Target Location: Monaco.

Contract Status: Active.

Opposing Party: Classified.

“Looks like we will meet again.”

>>>>next

it had been two whole days. two whole days since that last incident at taehyung’s house.

you still saw him everytime you closed your eyes. you still felt him — his face frowning, his lips attached to your neck, his moans sweet in your ears, his hands gripping at your waist, his cock pulsing inside you.

you shook your head. stop.

“you’re doing it again.” your friend said, tilting her head to look at you.

“what?” you asked confused.

“that look, like you’re not here.”

you weren’t.

“you’ve been doing it since you skipped class the other day.”

you held tight to the strap of your bag. “it’s nothing. i just haven’t been sleeping that well.” you lied, which seemed to be enough for her to let the subject go.

you both walked through the gates of hell — better known as haneul academy — making your way toward the huge white building. without thinking, your eyes scanned the courtyard, searching for him before you could stop yourself. for two entire days you had done everything possible to avoid him: changing routes between classes, leaving lectures early, skipping the ones you knew he attended, and turning corners the second you caught sight of him. you couldn’t risk being near him again. you knew yourself too well — you knew exactly what would happen if you were.

“he’s so hot.” your friend interrupted your thoughts.

you turned your head to look at her, then followed the direction of her gaze.

fuck.

a few yards away stood the usual group. jimin was laughing at something one of the guys had said, while jungkook lazily sucked on his cigarette, clearly amused as he watched two others argue. none of them were paying attention — except one. one single dark haired guy in the middle of all that chaos. kim taehyung.

your stomach immediately tightened. he stood slightly apart from the group, leaning against a concrete pillar, arms crossed over his chest. not talking, not laughing, just watching… you.

“should i go ask him for a cigarette?” you looked away first, and back at your friend.

you frowned. “you don’t even smoke.”

she looked at jungkook with awe, completely ignoring your words. you risked a quick glance back at taehyung — just long enough to see he was still staring right at you.

“let’s go.” you hurried, grabbing her arm and stepping away from the courtyard. you could still feel his eyes on your back as you walked away.

—

the lecture felt endless. not because the material was difficult, but because your concentration had abandoned you somewhere around the second slide and never returned. every time the professor called on someone, every time a chair scraped across the floor, every time a phone vibrated somewhere in the room, your attention snapped towards the sound before drifting right back to the same place it had been for the last two days. the laundry room.

by the time you finally raised your hand and asked to leave for the restroom, you felt like you were suffocating.

you stepped into the empty hallway, quiet and peaceful. you let a sigh leave your lips, your eyes flickering before making your way to the ladies’ restroom.

you placed your hands beneath the running water and stared at your reflection in the mirror, letting the cold water run over your fingers as you tried to gather your thoughts.

it lasted less than thirty seconds.

the door opened behind you, something tightening in your stomach before you even looked up. instinct. you met the reflection in the mirror and there he was, standing just inside the doorway. your breath stalled and for a second neither of you moved. then the door clicked shut behind him.

quickly you turned around. “what are you doing here?” you shot at him.

his expression didn’t change, steady and calm, but his eyes had something dark in them. he stayed silent for a moment.

“you’ve been avoiding me.” a murmur.

you blinked. “i haven’t.”

“you’ve switched hallways four times.”

you swallowed dry.

“you left campus through the east gate yesterday even though you live in the opposite direction.”

“how do you even know where i li—“

“you skipped professor han’s lecture.” he paused. “and you left the library twenty minutes after i walked in.” he tilted his head, examining your face.

none of those things should have been information he had.

“have you been following me?” you asked, slightly speechless.

his eyes narrowed slightly. “no.”

you laughed once, a humorless sound. “right.”

“you think i need to follow you?” the arrogance in his voice should have annoyed you, instead it made you nervous.

“then how do you know where i am all the time?”

for the first time, he hesitated, briefly, then he looked away, sighing while running his fingers through his hair.

“i have my ways.” he blinked back at you again.

“you’re a stalker,” you whispered. “i’m leaving.”

you walked straight toward him, trying to slip past and reach the door, but he was faster. his hand shot out, wrapping tightly around your arm and pinning you against the wall. his other hand slammed beside your face with a sharp thud that made you flinch.

“where are you going?” his eyes burned into yours.

“to class. to a place where you’re not." you spat back, trying to maintain a defiance you didn’t feel.

“stop running away.” he gritted his teeth, anger flashing in his eyes. he leaned down, lips hovering just above your ear. you shivered, heat rushing down your spine. “i know you want this,” he whispered, voice low and dangerous. “stop pretending like you don’t.”

“tae—“ you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as his lips brushed against your neck. “what happened shouldn’t have happened.” you forced your eyes open, his face inches from yours. the grip on your arm softened, but his gaze remained locked on you.

“why not?” he breathed, his eyes tracing the line of your jaw, then up to your lips, before returning to your eyes. “didn’t like it?” he licked his lips, a slow, deliberate action that made your stomach clench. “you’re gonna act like you haven’t been thinking about it?” his lips brushed against the skin of your neck, just enough to give you goosebumps. “every minute…” they placed a soft, open-mouthed kiss that elicited a whimper from your throat “…of every day.” you clenched your fists, fighting the desperate urge to reach for him. “bet you’re so fucking wet right now.” he trailed off, his tongue tracing a path from the bottom to the top of your neck, sending tremors through your body. you felt the undeniable heat pooling between your legs, your panties clinging uncomfortably to your skin.

suddenly, his hand moved from your arm to the front pocket of his own slacks. he reached inside, and your breath caught in your throat as he slowly pulled out a small, crumpled piece of fabric. it was your underwear, the lace trim familiar and damning. your face flushed red.

“remember these?” he asked, his voice laced with a wicked amusement. he held them up, the fabric a stark contrast against his skin. “left them at my place the other day. i’ve been keeping them safe.” he brought them to his nose, inhaling deeply, his eyes closing for a moment as he savored the scent. “been… using them,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a husky murmur, making you shudder. “every time i think about you.” he looked back at you, his pupils dilated, a primal hunger burning in their depths. he brought the underwear to his lips and pressed a kiss against the fabric, his gaze never leaving yours. “and you,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire, “you still smell so fucking good.” he didn’t need to touch you. the mere sight of him holding your intimate garment, the raw confession of his prolonged torment, was enough to make you squirm, your body betraying you with every throb of pleasure.

his eyes darkened even further, a wicked smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you squirm against the wall, your heart hammering so hard you could barely breathe.

“i can smell you from right here, baby,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “that sweet little cunt is dripping for me already, isn’t it?” he leaned in closer, lips brushing your ear. “i’ve waited two fucking days to taste you. i’m not waiting anymore.”

your stomach flipped violently, heat flooding your entire body as your pussy clenched hard around nothing. you were soaked, aching, and the way he looked at you made your legs tremble.

before you could respond, taehyung dropped to his knees in front of you. his large hands slid up your thighs, roughly pushing the pleated uniform skirt up to your waist, bunching the fabric around your hips. the cool air hit your drenched panties and you shivered, embarrassment and arousal mixing dangerously inside you.

he stared at the obvious wet patch darkening the lace, eyes hungry.

“fuck… look at you.” he leaned forward and pressed his mouth right against your covered pussy, kissing the soaked fabric hard. a broken whimper tore from your throat as his hot breath and firm lips teased your throbbing clit through the thin material. your knees nearly gave out.

“i knew it,” he groaned against you, the vibration making your clit pulse desperately. “i knew you were this fucking wet.” he dragged his tongue slowly up the length of your slit over the panties, tasting your arousal through the lace. “soaking right through them for me.”

your head fell back against the wall, breath coming in short, shaky gasps. every slow lick made you throb harder, made more slick leak out of you. you were losing your mind, hips twitching forward involuntarily, desperate for more.

he played with you like that for torturous minutes — sucking on the fabric, licking long, firm stripes over your swollen clit, pressing the flat of his tongue hard against you while his hands gripped your thighs, keeping you spread open for him. every time you tried to roll your hips for more friction, he pulled back just enough to keep you on edge, teasing you mercilessly until you were whimpering pathetically.

“ta-taehyung… please—” you gasped, fingers threading tightly into his dark hair, tugging desperately.

he finally hooked two fingers into the crotch of your ruined panties and yanked them roughly to the side, exposing your glistening, swollen pussy completely.

“such a pretty fucking pussy,” he growled, before diving in.

taehyung buried his face between your thighs with zero hesitation. his thick, hot tongue dragged flat from your dripping hole all the way up to your throbbing clit, lapping up every drop of your slick like a man starved. he moaned loudly into your cunt, the deep sound vibrating through your core and making your eyes roll back.

your mind went blank. the pleasure was overwhelming, almost too much. your thighs shook as he sucked your clit into his hot mouth, tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive bundle of nerves while two long fingers pushed inside you without warning, curling instantly against that spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids. you cried out, gripping his hair tighter, barely able to stay standing as he fucked you with his fingers and devoured your pussy at the same time.

he ate you like he was addicted — messy, loud, and completely shameless. wet, obscene slurping and sucking sounds filled the restroom as he licked and sucked, his nose pressed against your mound while his tongue worked relentlessly over your swollen clit. he pulled back for just a second, strings of your arousal connecting his shiny lips to your cunt, before spitting on your clit and diving back in even harder.

“god, you taste so fucking good,” he groaned against your folds, voice muffled and filthy. “better than i imagined. i could eat this pussy for hours.” his fingers pumped faster, curling and scissoring inside your tight, dripping heat while his lips wrapped around your clit again, sucking hard.

you were a complete mess — moaning brokenly, hips grinding against his face, thighs trembling violently around his head. the coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter with every filthy stroke of his tongue, every thrust of his fingers. you could feel yourself dripping down his chin, could hear how wet you were with every loud slurp, and the sheer intensity of it all had you right on the edge, seconds away from falling apart.

your orgasm hit you like a freight train. your whole body seized up, thighs clamping around his head as you came hard on his tongue, waves of blinding pleasure crashing through you. a strangled cry escaped your lips before you could stop it, your pussy pulsing and gushing around his fingers while he kept licking and sucking, dragging out every last second of your release until you were shaking and whimpering.

the bell rang loudly through the hallway, sharp and sudden.

your eyes flew open in panic. “shit— taehyung—” you gasped, still trembling from your orgasm, legs weak.

but he was already moving. he stood up fast, wiping his glistening mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark with hunger. before you could protest, he grabbed your wrist and dragged you into the nearest stall, slamming the door shut and locking it just as voices started echoing down the hallway.

he pinned you against the cold tiled wall instantly, one hand clamping tightly over your mouth. “shh,” he breathed against your ear, already yanking your panties down your thighs. “you’re gonna take my cock like a good girl and stay quiet.”

you barely had time to process before he freed his hard, throbbing cock and pushed inside you in one deep thrust, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. he gripped your thigh firmly, holding you up against the wall as he sank even deeper. your eyes rolled back, a muffled moan vibrating against his palm as he stretched you open. he was so thick, so deep, and you were still fluttering from your orgasm, making everything feel impossibly intense.

“fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he groaned quietly, starting to fuck you hard. his hips snapped against yours with deep, punishing strokes, the wet sound of your pussy taking his cock echoing obscenely in the small stall.

students started pouring into the restroom. chatter, laughter, running water — all of it just inches away from where taehyung was fucking you senseless against the wall.

you struggled, biting down hard on your lip, trying desperately not to moan. but every brutal thrust made it harder. a broken whimper slipped out against his hand. then another.

taehyung smirked, clearly amused. “can’t control yourself on my cock, huh?” he whispered, voice low and teasing as he pounded into you even harder, grinding deep. “so fucking pathetic… moaning while everyone’s right there.”

your eyes watered from the effort of staying quiet. every time his cock dragged against that perfect spot inside you, another muffled whimper or moan escaped. he loved it — you could tell by the way his cock twitched inside you and the dark chuckle against your ear.

he fucked you relentlessly, hips snapping fast and deep, one hand still covering your mouth while the other gripped your thigh, holding you open for him. the risk, the voices outside, the way he was ruining you — it was all too much.

your second orgasm crashed into you without warning. your pussy clenched hard around his cock, spasming and milking him as pleasure ripped through your body. you cried out against his palm, the sound barely contained.

“fuck— that’s it,” taehyung groaned, voice strained. a few more brutal thrusts and he buried himself deep, cumming hard inside you with a low, shaky moan. you felt every pulse, every hot spurt filling you up as he rode out his release, hips jerking against yours.

you both stayed pressed together, breathing heavily. the loud bell rang again. slowly, the voices outside started to fade as students left the restroom. taehyung finally pulled his hand from your mouth, but he didn’t pull out. instead, he stayed buried inside you, softening slightly while keeping his cum plugged deep in your cunt.

“taehyung… we have to go,” you whispered shakily, cheeks burning with humiliation and leftover pleasure.

he smirked, pressing a lazy kiss to your neck. “not yet.” he slowly pulled out, but before you could even think about reaching for your panties, he pushed two fingers back into your sensitive hole, scooping his cum deeper inside you. “you’re gonna keep every drop of my cum inside this pretty pussy, understand?”

your eyes widened. “what? no— i can’t—”

“you can and you will,” he said firmly, voice low and commanding as he pulled your panties back up, pressing the fabric tight against your leaking cunt. “no cleaning up, no fixing yourself. i want you walking around this school with my cum dripping into your panties, feeling me with every step. so maybe that way you won’t think about running from me again.” he leaned closer, lips brushing your ear. “and if you’re good… maybe i’ll fuck you again after classes.”

your face burned with embarrassment, but a fresh wave of arousal twisted in your stomach. you could already feel his warm cum slowly leaking out of you, soaking into the lace as he smoothed your skirt back down.

he unlocked the stall door, checking quickly before pulling you out with him. the hallway was starting to empty again. you walked beside him on shaky legs, hyper-aware of the slick, messy feeling between your thighs with every single step. your cheeks were flushed, heart racing, terrified someone would notice the way you were walking or the faint wet sound you swore you could hear.

taehyung glanced at you with dark satisfaction, a smug little smirk on his lips as he watched you try to act normal.

“good girl,” he murmured under his breath. “now go to class… and don’t you dare let it drip down your legs.”

—

the rest of the day passed in a hazy blur. every step you took made you painfully aware of the mess between your thighs — taehyung’s cum slowly leaking out of you, soaking into your ruined panties with every movement. you kept your thighs pressed together as you sat through lectures, face burning whenever you felt another warm trickle slip out. you didn’t dare go to the bathroom to clean up. his words kept echoing in your head: keep every drop inside you.

when the final bell rang, you found yourself taking the long way through the courtyard and lingering near the gates longer than necessary, eyes subtly scanning the usual spots. but he wasn’t there. not leaning against his usual pillar, not surrounded by the others. the disappointment that settled in your chest annoyed you more than you wanted to admit.

you walked home on unsteady legs, hyper-aware of the mess still trapped against your skin.

the second you stepped into your room and closed the door behind you, your phone buzzed on the desk. an unknown number.

unknown: sorry i disappeared, something came up. been thinking about you the whole fucking day tho

you stared at the screen, heart racing. how the hell did he get your number?

another message followed immediately.

unknown: be a good girl and send me a picture of your panties. show me how soaked they are with my cum. i want to see what a mess i left inside that pretty pussy.

you bit your lip, thighs clenching at his words. even when he wasn’t there, he still had you completely under his control.

your hands trembled slightly as you slipped your skirt up and took the photo, the white lace ruined and soaked with his cum. you sent it before you could overthink it.

his reply came faster than you expected.

unknown: fuck… look at that. such a messy little thing for me. that’s a good girl.

you bit your lip, pulse racing as another text appeared right after.

unknown: be ready for me tomorrow. i’m nowhere near done with you yet.

you let out a shaky breath, thighs pressing together as heat flooded your body all over again.

Seo-ah made a face from where she sat, on her bed in their shared hotel room, and it made her feel dumb. But honestly, could anyone blame her for being a little panicked? Her boss had threatened her job if she ever breathed anything about what she saw at someone’s direction. 

She expected a lawyer, for the other members of the group to sit her down and be subjected to the rare displeasure of Namjoon only for nothing to happen in the following days. It made her antsy.

Anxious.

What could that guy be planning?

Is he waiting for me to slip?

Did you tell him anything about her? Had you whispered into his ears and urged him to have her laid off?

Alexa knew she doesn’t have a shiny record with you but she was nothing but curious, maybe a little pushy but she didn’t harm you in any way so why would you do that to her?

“...Shouldn’t you be glad there’s nothing legal to chain you down?” Seo-ah asked cooly, checking her nails.

“No, there must be something. You think this is a test?.”

“Or you could just be making it all up in your head.” Seo-ah shrugged as she picked her drink and took a snap of herself with the mango shake. “You’re panicking over nothing, just don’t say anything to anyone and you’ll be good.”

Alexa paused, gaze wandering to her friend still taking pictures of herself by the couch next to the wide glass windows. But before she could utter a word out, she raised a finger at her and shook her head.

“Don’t tell me anything, I don’t want any part of this.”

It frustrates Alexa how Seo-ah wanted to shrug this issue off as if it's acceptable to have cheaters roam free with no consequences. She couldn’t even put into words how angry she was seeing you earlier joking around with Seokjin, hand on his arm as you throw your head back in a laugh. 

How can a woman not feel any remorse or even a semblance of guilt when she talks to the lover she’s deceiving?

“You don’t get how much of a burden it is to see her bonding with Seokjin oppa—”

Seo-ah let out a frustrated groan. “Don’t meddle with their affairs. If they’re caught then they’re caught, not our fucking problem. We’re hired to only care about how pretty these boys should look. Don’t try to be the good guy.”

“But—”

“No buts, no exceptions. As long as we’re paid by the end of the day then I’m not doing shit. Can we go visit that cat cafe now?”

[Hours before Nabi’s sleepover]

No matter how much she tries to ignore the injustice around her like Seo-ah had suggested, she couldn’t. Because she’s not like her friend who’s all nonchalant, logic-driven and money focused. Her anger, no matter how much she tries to control it, boils over and today seems to be the day she’ll confront you.

Alexa marched into the dressing room where she found you already digging through your makeup pouch on the table. Seeing you laughing with Seokjin oppa earlier with no shame or guilt made her skin crawl. 

It was so dirty, the most repulsive. 

A vile woman like you shouldn’t have had the privilege of being Seokjin’s secret, it makes her blood boil with fury just thinking of how he practically revered you. You don’t deserve those soft gazes she used to believe only exists in dramas and fairytales. The smiles, the gentleness, the thoughtfulness—those things should’ve been reserved for someone who’d appreciate them better.

Someone who’d reciprocate that same gaze that told her if nobody else was in the room, he would’ve gotten down on his knees and started kissing your feet.

When you broke off from the group heading out for the celebratory dinner with the excuse of forgetting something, Alexa followed you and when no god-like men happened to be waiting for you, she pounced.

“You’re disgusting.” She spat out, voice dripping with venom.

In the pindrop silence, her words rang out like a knife being unsheathed and you turned to her, jaw dropped and face contorted into an ugly offended expression.

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t fucking believe you!”

You blinked. 

“What are you talking about, Alexa? You come here calling me disgusting for no reason, what did I—”

“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you. You know damn well what you fucking did.” She snapped, goosebumps pricking her skin at how you’re still acting innocent. At the rise in your eyebrow, she continued. “I saw you kiss Jungkook in the hallway. “

You looked like a deer in a headlight when her words dawned on you, surprised as if the ground below you had crumbled and you’re falling—god, she hoped you would feel shittier than that. Alexa hoped her words made you feel mortified, disgusted at yourself like all cheaters would be when caught. 

The thought of it alone filled her with sick glee.

Would you start begging her to keep her mouth shut? Would you fall to your knees asking her to not tell Seokjin soon?

A nervous laugh slipped out as your eyes flicked toward the open exit behind her, right hand closing into a fist. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“Stop looking behind me, Jungkook won’t save you anytime soon.” Alexa’s voice dripped with mockery, her arms crossed like she was holding herself back from more. “And stop acting innocent. It’s starting to piss me off.”

“What are you talking about, Alexa?” you asked, still feigning confusion. “I only kissed him on the cheek, it’s not as bad as you’re trying to make it out to be. Friends do that, especially ones you—”

There was no shame in your face, no remorse in your tone. Alexa could barely stomach it. How could you look her in the eye and pretend like this was all a misunderstanding? That you weren’t going on sweet dates with their youngest somewhere in LA while Seokjin awaited you both to come back from whatever you two had excused yourselves to.

Insects crawled up her body, thousands of prickly legs wiggling under her skin.

So disgusting! 

“Do you enjoy it at least? Kissing the kid he raised while he waits for you to return,” she spat. “What kind of excuse did you give him to believe you weren’t sneaking around behind Seokjin’s back?”

“This isn’t your business, Alexa.” You huffed, quickly gathering your items into your bag.

She stomped over, snatching the brushes from your hands but your hold tightened around them and it quickly became a class of strength. 

“Oh, it became my business the moment you made a fool out of him,” she barked. “HE TRUSTED YOU!”

You blinked, staring at her with a strange stoicness. It reminded her of someone else’s gaze, dirty and demeaning. Being subjected to it made her feel wrong, crazy; and it infuriates her.

“I should tell him,” she seethed. “He deserves to know that you’re out here .”

Your hand catches her wrist as she turns around. “You’re being unreasonable, there is nothing going on—”

“I KNOW WHAT I SAW! DON’T LIE TO ME!”

“Alexa, if you just calm the fuck down—”

Footsteps echoed from behind, they both sounded rushed as it echoed and approached them. Alexa scowled, she didn’t even get to snatch your hair or even slap you yet but at least she got to see your expression. 

It's not enough but it will have to do for now.

Namjoon and Yoongi round the corner, their eyebrows knitted tight as their eyes surveyed the room before it landed, your wrist wrapped tightly around her wrist.

She coolly took her arm back from you. She couldn’t be seen being aggressive to you, not when she plans to reveal your dirty secret to the other members now.

“What’s going on?” Namjoon asked, his lips set into a frown

Alexa turned, an easy smile on her face. “Perfect timing. You should both know that she’s cheating on Seokjin with Jungkook.”

A sharp silence fell. 

But it wasn’t the shocked, betrayed silence she had expected. It was stale, like she was an ignorant bint who had just emerged from whatever cave she’s buried herself in and had declared confidently an invention everyone had known centuries ago.

She blinked. “What?”

They looked unfazed, as if her words had been expected, rehearsed even, and she was the one stumbling into the play she wasn’t aware was taking place. Her stomach churns impossibly tight as she studies their blank expressions. The two men exchanged looks and Alexa couldn’t help but feel even more lost.

There’s something happening and she’s not understanding a single bit of it.

Why aren’t they reacting like she thought they would?

Namjoon sighs, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t think you’re the one understanding what’s happening here, Alexa.”

Alexa frowned deeper. “It’s not hard to understand. She’s two-timing a man who actually loves her. But if you want to defend that, go ahead.”

“If that’s what you think is happening then sure.” Yoongi off-handedly said as he shrugged, earning Namjoon’s scolding gaze.

Alexa’s eyes darted between them, confusion flickering beneath her fury. “You’re all seriously okay with this?”

“God, we’re gonna miss dinner. If you don’t mind, we’re going. I’m fucking starving.:

Yoongi walked past her and entangled your hand in his, pulling you to their side and suddenly, everything began to click in place.

The careful touches she caught glimpsed of shared not only with Seokjin or Jungkook but the rest of the group, the gazes that seem to hold a subtle sweetness inappropriate for friends, and your reaction earlier when she revealed what she knew—the hesitance and the kind of nervousness when you’re caught and are scrambling for the words to answer that she misunderstood. 

You weren’t panicking over the cheating accusations but rather, to something greater.

Something far beyond her understanding.

In that very moment, every moment she raised her eyebrow at, began to make sense and all she could do was stare as the puzzles began to create a picture she never once considered.

They all shared you, shamelessly and without care for what was deemed normal.

And Alexa finds herself lost, conflicted and horrified.

Alexa only watched you retreat with a dawning realization as Yoongi guided you outside, leaving Namjoon by the doorway who flashed her a dimpleless smile, eyes speaking a thousand of threats that his mouth couldn’t say out loud.

“Don’t put your nose where it doesn't belong. Our lawyers will be in contact and we won’t forget this time. Don’t do anything you’ll regret while they draft it up.”

When you first met Taehyung it was for your debate program in University. He was the only one who could match you with for wit, point for point, all within the allotted time and with brevity and well spoken analysis that you were in awe of. Surprisingly the two of you did not become rivals, the way high school you would've fantasized, having read way too much enemies to lovers fanfiction. No, instead you two actually became very good friends, building a friendship based on mutual respect, sticking together even after graduation. 

Taehyung was practically perfect in every way except with one minute (major) flaw: his other best friend.

You and Jeon Jungkook never really saw eye-to-eye; the moment you crossed paths with his childhood best friend, his original debate partner back in high school, you knew you had entered a battlefield.

It was a never ending fight between the two of you, always vying for Taehyung’s affections. Jungkook had always accused you of being a leech, just another sycophant who would reveal her true colors and nefarious intentions towards his best friend. Apparently they had known each other since childhood, and he had seen a million girls like you come and go. You, on the other hand, found Jungkook to be an entitled, pompous brat whose rich family provided so much for him he had never been told the word no. He was so used to Taehyung being his and his alone that you had trouble picturing him sharing anything in his life. That was probably the real reason why girls didn't last long around Taehyung. 

It didn't help that Taehyung was constantly trying to facilitate things between the two of you, arranging for the three of you to hang out despite both parties' protest.

"If you guys only got to know each other better, I'm sure you'd get along!"

"Won't you guys try, for me? C'mon, I've always pictured what things would be like, the three of us."

"You're both my best friends. Why would anyone choose just one?"

More times than you could count you were invited to hang out with Taehyung, only to find Jungkook already be there. You tried to get along with the man, really, but it was nearly impossible. He was so possessive of Tae, constantly glaring at the two of you when Taehyung showed you any affection. He always had some snide comment to make about it afterwards, like just seeing you two so close made him want to throw up. You were positively sure at this point that the younger was in love with his best friend, but it was a working theory.

Regardless, anything you showed up to with Taehyung, you'd have to be ok with Jungkook tagging along as well. Tonight's party was no exception, though you had lost track of the duo when you went to find a drink to drown your sorrows, and then had to do it again after seeing said sorrow to drink over.

You stumbled up the stairs with a heavy heart, downing most of your cup to replace one bitter taste in your mouth with another. To your surprise you see your best friend waiting in the hallway, no Jungkook in sight, looking just as drunk as you based on the way he was slumped against the wall.

You walked up to him, back pressing against the wall as well, leaning your arm against his for support and also needing the comfort of his body heat against yours right now. 

"Hey, where've ya been? I've been looking for you for the past ten minutes I feel," you pouted, taking another sip of the fruity concoction in your cup, the vodka starting to become less noticeable.

The moment Taehyung registered you he glowed, beaming with a goofy, drunk, genuine smile that made you feel safe.

"Hey, sorry! Kook broke the seal, and I didn't want to lose more than one person in a single night," Taehyung chuckled, grabbing you arm and tucking it against his, pulling you in closer to his side. "How're you enjoying the party?"

You shrugged, unsure if you wanted to mention the sight downstairs you were currently running from. "It's fine, I guess."

"Yeah, I was thinking about the three of us ditching to go to that party on Brunswick, but none of us seem quite capable of driving just yet."

That put a damper on your hopes of Taehyung whisking you away from this place.

"I just remembered, I forgot to show you earlier today the new watch I got from Etsy!" Taehyung’s glazed eyes lit up. "Look, it's called a serpent's watch." 

Taehyung flashed the fancy accessory on his wrist, the nontraditional wristband being coils of metal that wrapped down his wrist, the clock shaped closer to an oval or diamond than a circle. It really was shaped liked a serpent.

You absentmindedly nodded, fingers brushing over the way the watch wrapped around Taehyung’s wrist. Your mind kept drifting from Taehyung’s forearms, however, and without sobriety to keep your mind where it should be, tears were soon falling from your eyes.

Tae noticed immediately.

"Hey hey, what's wrong?" Taehyung cupped your face in his hands, thumbs swiping under your eyes to wipe away at the tears. "It's a party, you should be happy-drunk, not sad-drunk."

Your lip trembled as you melted into Taehyung’s touch. "It's Yoongi," you explained, a pout on your lips as you said the name. "Just saw him downstairs with some girl. I just wasn't expecting it to hit so hard, y'know?"

"Aw, baby, I'm so sorry." Taehyung wasn't the biggest fan of your ex, secretly (not so secretly) elated when the two of you broke up. You didn't share the same sentiments, very clearly heartbroken when Yoongi dumped you to have sex with other girls. Go figure. "It's natural to be upset."

"I just—" You sucked in a breath. "I want to be over it already, y'know? I'm so sick of being pathetic and still crying about it."

"It was only two months ago. I don't blame you."

"You should. You should be sick of me at this point, crying to you about this. God knows Jungkook is." You blinked away the tears, slowly coming back down to Earth as you grounded yourself further against Taehyung. "I'm sick of me."

"I could never be sick of you, trust me. Yoongi doesn't know what he's missing out on. Any sane man would be on his knees for you if you so much as asked."

That earned a laugh out of you, effectively brightening your spirit a tiny bit. You sniffled, resting your forehead against Taehyung’s shoulder, sighing as you composed yourself. "Thanks, Tae. I appreciate it. God, why can't more guys be like you? There's too many assholes like Yoongi and Jungkook around."

Taehyung chuckled at that. "Hey, Kook’s not that bad."

"He is to me."

"You guys just need to work on getting closer, that's all. Find some shared interest or hobby or something. Anything you might like to do together."

You rolled your eyes a bit. "I don't think there's anything like that that doesn't involve violence."

"He likes you more than you think. He just doesn't realize it yet," Taehyung assured.

You heard a knock from inside the bathroom, Jungkook’s voice calling out. "Taehyung?"

"Speak of the devil," Taehyung grinned. He turned toward the door. "What is it?"

"Can you come in here real quick?"

Both you and Taehyung exchanged puzzled glances.

"Are you guys about to get up to some gay shit?" You whispered quietly. "I mean, it's hot, I guess. Am I supposed to keep watch?"

"Dunno yet. Let me see what he needs," Taehyung said, not even bothering to deny the homosexual allegations as he stepped inside the bathroom. Jungkook was turned away from Taehyung, looking down and fidgeting with something. "Everything ok man?"

"Yes— I mean no— I mean... shit." Jungkook turned around, letting Taehyung see his situation. Unfortunately for him, the zipper of his pants had gotten stuck onto his boxers and was refusing to budge. "It's stuck," Jungkook stated the obvious. "I've been trying to get it loose for like, five minutes now."

"Whoo boy, let's see what we're dealing with." Taehyung gave the zipper an experimental tug upwards. Jungkook wasn't used to having Taehyung’s hands so close to his genitalia, but he supposed it was a testimony to how close they were.

Jungkook leaned against the sink, ears tinged pink with embarrassment as Taehyung yanked at the zipper with reasonable force.

"Hey, watch it man! I don't need you zipping up my balls, too," Jungkook freaked.

"Relax, it's not— Jesus Christ, this thing really isn't budging," Taehyung hissed, hands starting to become sweaty with his efforts.

Jungkook’s eyes widened. He buried his face in his hands, feeling how hot his cheeks were already getting "Fuck. Fuck, man, what am I gonna do? I can't go out there with my fly like this!"

"I'd be more worried about the fact you spent, like, 500 bucks on these pants." If Taehyung used too much force on this he was at risk of breaking it beyond repair, and he really couldn't afford repairs for Louis Vuitton the way Jungkook could.

"Dude, I literally want to die right now." Jungkook prayed everybody would be drunker than he was, at least enough where he could make a speedy exit without anyone noticing his problem.

"Wait!" Taehyung’s head shot up, as though a brilliant idea came to him. "I know someone who's great with zippers!"

Jungkook’s thick brows furrowed, and all he could think about was lightning somehow shooting into the house and striking him down mercifully. "What? Wait—"

"Y/N! Get in here, we need your help!" Taehyung swung open the bathroom door, dragging you inside without preamble or Jungkook’s approval.

You grumbled, eyes narrowed with confusion. "Do I need to aim for you guys or...?"

"No! Kook’s got a bit of a..." Taehyung’s eyes flicked down towards his friend's crotch. "...situation."

Your eyebrows jumped this time. "He has a boner?"

"No!" Now it was Jungkook’s turn to interject. He felt like he could die of embarrassment then and there, having to humiliate himself in front of you of all people. "My zipper is stuck."

"Aw, guess that Louis label doesn't guarantee quality after all, does it?" You jutted your lip out in a fake pout, taking your opportunity to jab at him. You were still suffering from the sting of seeing your ex, and Jungkook was the best target you could ask for tonight. This was just too perfect.

"Hey, be nice," Taehyung scolded. "Will you help?"

"Maybe..." You tapped your cup against your chin, pondering. "If he begs."

"What?!" Jungkook was shocked by your sheer audacity.

You shrugged, fighting (and failing) to keep the corner of your mouth from quirking up into a smirk. "If you want me to help, you have to say please. It's only polite."

"Oh my god, you're such a bitch—"

"That's not very nice."

"Nice? I can—"

"Guys, stop!" Taehyung interrupted the both of your squabbling, not wanting to be cramped in a bathroom with the two of you shouting in his ear. "Just say please, Kook."

Jungkook’s eyes practically bulged out of his sockets when he heard Taehyung taking your side. You stuck your tongue out at him like a child, triumphant. 

He gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw as he muttered the words. "Will you please help me with my zipper? Please?"

You looked so cheeky and smug, putting your cup down on the sink. Jungkook suddenly had the urge to bite you. "Well, since you sound so pathetic."

You reached for the zipper, and Jungkook hissed to resist the urge of slapping your hands away out of annoyance. "I'm gonna get you back for this, I swear..."

"That's not how you say thank you to a favor, Kookie," you teased, your fingers twiddling with the metal as you tried to yank it up.

"We both know you aren't doing this as a favor." Fuck, you were so close to him. He could smell both the perfume you wore and the alcohol you drank. Now he had to worry about the friction your jerky little tugs were causing. 

"Aw, look at you guys getting along," Taehyung smiled, reaching up to pat your head. "I told ya, you just needed to bond a little."

"We are not bonding— ow!" You tried to turn your head to face him, but something caught in your hair. You tried to move again, only realizing that Taehyung’s fancy watch was now tangled in it.

"Sorry!" Taehyung apologized, trying to move his hand back but tugging your head along with it, making you howl. "Oh, sorry again!"

"Stop moving!" You reached one hand back to reach for his wrist, trying to pull a few strands away to get loose.

"Can you get lower? It's hard for me to untangle myself at this angle."

"Fuck!" The hand still on Jungkook’s zipper yanked on it in frustration, the tug doing nothing to free it.

"My hand's getting tired up here, it'll be quicker!" Taehyung whined petulantly.

You rolled your eyes and reluctantly sank onto your knees, the cold tile biting against your skin. You were now staring up at Jungkook, who found the view a lot hotter than he cared to admit.

But he did say he was going to get back at you.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Look at you. Can't believe you're on your knees in a bathroom for me."

You scowled. "It's not for you."

"Right. You're on a dirty bathroom floor for me and Taehyung." Jungkook snickered at your glare, soaking in your scowl.

You reached up for his zipper with both hands, tugging it back down in another attempt, your other hand gripping onto fabric to pull it out. "You really shouldn't piss off the one with a zipper to your balls."

"That's if you can do your job correctly down there."

"Oh, you can fuck right off— Oh fuck, Tae!" Your head jerked back again slightly, and your eyes scrunched as you winced in pain.

"Sorry!" Taehyung apologized again, patting your head with the unadorned hand. "It's almost out, just a little longer."

"Fuck!" You gripped onto Jungkook’s pants tighter, pulling him closer to you as you jerked the zipper more, feeling some leeway.

Jungkook grappled onto the sink counter, trying not to fall against you or get hard, his footing unsteady as you tugged his pants closer to your face. If he wasn't careful you were going to end up with his dick print against your cheek. The sound of your little whine made popping a boner nearly impossible. It was difficult too with the sight of you frustrated and on your knees between the two of them, tiny hands scrambling with his zipper, and his mind was going to places they really shouldn't.

Your hand was moving the zipper up and down, desperately trying to get it loose, the tiny bit of fabric bunched beneath slowly giving way. You fisted at the fabric next to it, trying to pull it in the opposite direction so it would give.

"Fuck, I think I'm close," you muttered quietly to yourself, not even realizing how you sounded.

Fuck. Fuck Jungkook needed to get his zipper fixed now because any second now he was going to get obviously hard, and there'd be absolutely no way of hiding it from you or Taehyung.

"I-I think I might—"

"Shut up, I'm almost there!" Of course you'd be fucking stubborn when you put your mind to something.

"Me too!" His best friend innocently commented, eyes glued on his watch. Taehyung seemed oblivious to Jungkook’s panic, just as focused as you when it came to the task at hand.

You tugged one more time, the slide finally becoming easier and the zipper making its way successfully to the very bottom, no fabric stuck. "Finally!"

Taehyung managed to free his watch with your hair still intact, though it was a mess from the tangles and pulling from prior. "Yes!" He rolled his wrist with satisfaction, his other, unadorned hand now combing through your mess of hair in attempt to smoothe it. "See, that wasn't too bad."

Jungkook felt entirely too suffocated, and for the first time in his life he was desperately wanting a woman off her knees. "For you," he huffed, feeling hotter by the minute.

It was just then that the bathroom door, which you neglected to lock behind you, swung open.

The three of you must've been a sight: your hands up near Jungkook’s crotch while you were on your knees, Jungkook’s pants unzipped, your hair a tangled mess and makeup slightly smudged from crying. Jungkook and Taehyung were also incriminating, both sweating a little from their frustration, breathing heavy from their intense focus on very different missions. 

Taehyung looked like a deer in headlights as he turned back toward the people in the doorway, the appearance of the situation seemingly dawning on him.

"Um... I know this is super cliché but... this isn't what it looks like."

—

So everybody thinks you had a threesome in the bathroom with the two hottest guys on campus. 

That's just great.

It's not like anyone's dick was even out or anything. Sure, you could see how it'd look like you guys were about to have a threesome, but that's a huge difference! Instead, you were getting bombarded left and right with people you've never even met, asking you what happened, what they were like, who was better, who was bigger. They heard some of the things that were being said, you couldn't fool them. The dialogue alone was incriminating. When you told them the truth they never believed you, some giving you a cheeky smile saying, Fine, keep your secrets.

You were starting to think you might as well have with how many people were convinced.

The mere idea of it was crazy. You, having a threesome with your best friend... and his best friend. Who you hated.

Still, your mind kept drifting back to the image of him looking down at you, so pissed, so on edge. You were lucky he seemed so panicked about the zipper that he didn't notice you pressing your thighs together.

You were a horny drunk, you could admit that much. You just didn't imagine you'd be getting horny for Jungkook of all people.

Or Taehyung.

You thought of the way Tae’s fingers carded through your hair, the assuring pat on your head and the way he cradled your face when you were crying. You thought about how he looked from above as well that night, brows furrowed in concentration, biting down on his lip.

Fuck. You can't be thinking of this. It was just a drunken misunderstanding.

You need to stop thinking about fucking your best friend and his best friend. End of story.

There was no way that was ever happening. Jungkook hated your guts the same way you hated his, and Taehyung was always oblivious to everything. 

You just had to pretend that none of it was bothering you.

That's why you were loud as hell as you barged your way into Taehyung’s apartment, holding your copy of his key between your fingers.

"Hee! I'm here!" you called, just in case Jungkook was inside and you were unwittingly put into a trap with him. You stumbled your way into the living room, where Taehyung sat on his huge ass sofa, solo. "No Kook today?"

"Nah, he's not going to be out of class for another hour at least. I'm all yours 'til then." He was so cocky with it, crossing his fingers behind his head and leaning back, giving a mischievous grin.

"Lucky me," you chuckled, kicking off your shoes to join him.

With an early start to wine and enough time to get you tipsy, your conversation with Taehyung had delved into the topic no one, you especially now, could take off their minds: threesomes.

At first it started with the two of you laughing over how ridiculous the rumor spreading about the three of you was.

"So, I'm guessing you heard the rumors too?"

"Which one? The one about the dean having the same dealer as us, or the one that Sigma Ki has a cuck hazing ritual?"

You lightly shoved at your friend, rolling your eyes. "You know the one."

Taehyung laughed at your annoyance, positively beaming. "Oh, you mean the one about you, me, and Kook fucking each other in the bathroom? I may have heard about it."

How crazy that'd be. How stupid everyone was for automatically believing it. Then it continued, getting a bit deeper. You were currently ranting about how the concept of it in the general public, and what was deemed as more "acceptable" was two girls with one guy. It had only become a recent phenomenon of a girl getting to have two guys at the same time, the riskiest it was willing to go before still forcing her to choose one of the two. Meanwhile men's fantasies included harems and two women and expectations for girls that had been ingrained in the misogynistic society you were subjected to today.

"I mean, let's be soooo for real," you droned, the alcohol in your system making you bolder with your opinions. "Threesomes with two guys and one girl don't happen in real life. It's just a porn fantasy, and not one that gets delivered enough anyways because visual porn is much more catered to the male gaze. God forbid a woman's the center of attention."

"I'm sure those threesomes happen more often than you think, you know."

"Think about all the threesomes you know of, with real people you know, and measure out how many of those were two girls and how many were two guys. Those specific pairings. Go."

Taehyung pondered for a moment, giving it some thought. "So it's a bit... imbalanced."

"Guys have it so easy!" You whined, sinking into the couch cushions, crossing your arms with a huff. "Girls are constantly expected to be gay with their girl friends. If a girl isn't down to have a threesome with another girl, she's seen as boring. That's why so many of those Tinder couples are looking for a girl. And it's all catered towards the guy. Hell, if I were with another naked chick, the guy definitely wouldn't be getting all the attention. It's like rowboating with a heavy ass robot in the middle. Sure, hypothetically you can get the job done, but overall it'd just be best if the useless piece of junk were out of the picture."

Taehyung cackled at your comment, shaking his head. "You have the strangest way of describing things."

"I'm pretty sure I heard it from some comedian." You waved aside the thought. "Meanwhile, if you ask a guy to have a threesome with his bestie, he'd look at you like you have two heads! It only exists in porn, not real life," you rambled on.

"I'm still sure it happens in real life more often than you'd think."

"No, I doubt that. That's why it's so silly that everyone's so gullible. Guys are always going on about how it'd be gay to have a threesome with another man, but it's just as hot for the girl as it is for the guy in the switched scenarios," you pointed out. "Why else would girls be reading yaoi or reading gay fanfiction when they themselves are not gay men? Get turned on when they kiss?"

"I don't know. Some guys aren't as insecure in their masculinity as you think."

"Oh yeah? Like who?"

"Me."

You scoffed. "You? Yeah right."

"I don't think I'd mind," he shrugged, as though it were the most casual thing in the world.

"Oh really? So if a woman asked if you and your best friend— if you and Jungkook, were down to fuck her, you'd do it?" Surely Taehyung was just blowing smoke out of his ass. Your sweet Tae? No way. The mere concept of him and Jungkook actually sharing a girl was enough to give anyone a nosebleed. Like Jungkook would be capable of sharing in general. 

Taehyung stared at the ceiling, as though thinking about it. "Depends on the woman."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I wouldn't sleep with just any woman, first of all, my best friend included or not."

"Fair point." You thought about it for a moment. "Imagine, like, the hottest girl you've ever seen, then. You'd be down to fuck her no matter what."

Taehyung looked at you with a half-lidded gaze, his tongue running along the inside of his cheek. "Is she as hot as you?"

You rolled your eyes at his typical sleazy compliments, brushing it off with ease. He sometimes unintentionally flirted with you like this, riled you up, reminded you of what you couldn't have. At least, definitely not with Jungkook in the way. It was always innocent banter, some light teasing, like he doesn't know what it does to you. You wonder if he was truly oblivious or if he was just really good at pretending as a way to watch you squirm. "I forget, this whole thing's easy to you. You forget the rest of us plebeians have trouble even getting one person to want us, let alone two. You could probably pick three for one night, easy." You ruffled his hair, pushing his head to the side. "Not all of us look like we could be on the cover of Vogue, you know."

Taehyung pulled you in closer, arm looping around your waist until your thighs were pressing against one another's. "You're hot and you know it."

"Yeah, but I'm not on like, you or Jungkook’s level," you snorted. Hate Jungkook all you want, you couldn't deny the man creeped into the edges of your mind when you were getting off to the thought of his best friend. How you got to know two such gorgeous men, even in this sense, was beyond you.

"You're prettier than both of us. Jungkook would agree." Taehyung leaned in and nosed your neck affectionately, and half of you expected Jungkook to walk in any minute and scold you two for defiling the couch, even though the gesture was surely done with the purest of intentions.

"Doubt that," you chuckled. "I know I'm sorta pretty—"

"Definitely pretty."

"Definitely pretty," you corrected yourself. "But I have no doubt that I get weird stares when the three of us are in public, and people who don't know us wonder how I was able to pull that off."

Taehyung cocked his head to the side, studying your reaction, assessing your words and narrowing his eyes as though he wanted to argue. Slowly, his gaze drifted further down your face, lingering on your lips. "Ask me the question again."

"What question?" You forgot it already. 

"Ask if me and my best friend would be down to fuck you."

Immediately your heart jumped. Your cheeks burned at his clarification, and you squirmed in your seat. "I don't think I phrased it like that!" You couldn't help but feel exposed, even though he misread your question entirely.

"It is now." He leaned in closer, invading your space. You instinctively tried to sink further into the couch. Taehyung stopped his face a few inches from yours, arm hooking over the back of the couch behind you, impossible to ignore, waiting on your answer. He nudged at your chin with his fingers to get you to look at him properly, the way his eyes glittered being far too mischevious for your comfort. "Ask it."

You wanted to tell him to fuck off and quit playing with you, but you were also determined to hide how affected you were. This was so unlike him. Typically he was a clueless dolt, adoring, sweet, not this. The last thing you wanted Taehyung to know was how accurately he was now seeing you now. Did he always? Was he just pretending like he didn't know all this time? You didn't want him to see how excited you were getting by some hypoethical question that could never happen for two very big, very handsome reasons.

But this is Taehyung you're talking about. There was a very real possibility he was just bluffing to get a reaction out of you. You were used to him pulling shit out of his ass to make some contrived point.

"Fine." You squared your shoulders, looking Taehyung in the eye. "Would you want to fuck me with Jungkook?"

There's something that seemed to go dark inside his eyes, his face serious. "Yes."

You couldn't prevent the immediate small exhale of your nose, shaking your head and breaking eye contact. "You're so full of shit. Anything to prove your point and win an argument, huh?" He was exactly the same back in debate, go figure.

You were about to push him aside when you felt a hand on your knee. You stared up at him in surprise, his face still deadly serious.

"I mean it."

His thumb did a small brush against the side of your leg, and it was enough to make your knee jump beneath his palm. Your heartbeat raced, and you're suddenly left shy, as though this weren't your best friend Taehyung.

"I... That still doesn't prove my point!" Your brain was now melting away, and you're scrambling for whatever solid parts were left to form words. Taehyung was saying he wanted to fuck you. With Jungkook. What kind of sick joke was the universe playing with you? "The likelihood of one guy agreeing to that in the first place is super low, much less two."

"Jungkook would say yes, too."

You looked at Taehyung as though he were crazy. "Are we talking about the same Jungkook?"

"Yes."

"Bullshit." You couldn't help but relax a little, reminding yourself of the impossibility, especially where Jungkook was involved. "He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," Taehyung insisted.

"He does, too." Your confidence was slowly returning, and for a moment you pay no mind to Taehyung’s hand on your knee, your mind now tuning back into debate-mode. "And I know for a fact he'd think you're crazy for even asking and say no."

"He wouldn't. I saw how he was looking at you in the bathroom."

You swore your heart stopped then and there. "You're bluffing."

Taehyung grinned, and you could practically see the devil horns starting to grow. Perhaps the angel act really was a disguise. "Wanna bet?"

"What on?"

His smile deepened. "If he says no, we forget this whole thing happened. Hell, I'll take you out to that trendy little coffee place you love so much. You win."

The unasked questioned stands in the air before you take the plunge. "And if I lose?"

His eyes flicker down to your lips for just a moment, barely long enough for you to catch. "Guess."

You sucked in a breath at that. The thing about Taehyung was that he could never truly be trusted for when he was bluffing and making shit up or when he was saying fact. It was one of those things that made beating him in the moment, with all his deceit and bravado, even more special.

So that's why you found the courage to say: "Call him."

Taehyung didn't even break eye contact with you, whipping out his phone from his back pocket and ringing up Jungkook, turning it on speaker so it was loud enough for both of you to hear.

When the first dial rang you started to have second thoughts.

When the second dial rang you started to think about how Jungkook would believe you were a total freak for wanting this, for wanting to be shared by Taehyung and him of all people, and you'd be ready to die on the spot when you next saw him.

When the third dial rang, you started to believe you were being overdramatic, and that it'd go to voicemail and you and Taehyung could have a big laugh and forget the whole thing ever happened. Maybe make it an inside joke between the two of you. What if he had picked up?

And then he picked up.

You were ready to scream when his deep voice came out of the speaker. "Yo."

"Yo, man, what you up to?" Taehyung sounded so casual, and he only smiled when he saw your look of worry and shock as you mouthed at him to hang up. 

Taehyung was so close to you that you could hear everything on Jungkook’s end without the phone even being on speaker. "Just got out of class. What's up?"

"Wanted to know if you're free to come over."

"Sure dude. What're you wanting to do?"

Taehyung’s eyes locked with yours, his mouth twitching into a smirk. "Y/N."

There's a moment of silence on the line, and you wondered for a moment if Jungkook hung up at the mere mention of your name.

Finally, he spoke.

"Tonight?" He didn't ask any further questions about what Taehyung means by that. He didn't sound shocked, only mildly curious. Amused. Not even repulsed the way you were anticipating.

"More like now." Taehyung was clearly loving watching you squirm, seeing you panic at the audacity he had to go through with the stupid bet. "How soon can you get here?"

He said it. He actually said it.

There's some noise on the receiver, but Jungkook sounded calm. "She asked for this?"

"Directly," Taehyung confirmed. "Explicitly, in fact."

Your cheeks burned further with humiliation. There was silence again. "Is she there?"

Taehyung held out the phone, turning down the volume a bit, tilting his head as though with mock pity. Now whatever answer Jungkook had to give would be right against your ear. "He wants to talk to you."

Your mouth is suddenly dry as he passed you the phone, and you licked your lips as though that'll do any good. "I'm— I'm here."

"Did you really ask for me and Taehyung to fuck you?"

The words almost felt like a caress in your ear, but you're sure you're mistaking a disgusted scowl as a purr of lust. Your mind clearly couldn't be trusted tonight.

You looked back at Taehyung, still close enough for him to pick up on what's being said. You realized you have a chance to deny it all, pretend it was a joke gone too far, a prank. Taehyung would be true to his word, pretend it never happened.

And then your mind raced with everything that could happen.

God, this could be such a bad idea...

"I did."

There was a pause on Jungkook’s end, and it felt as though everyone in the room was soaking in your small confession, like you were in a booth with a priest at church all over again.

"I'll be there in 30."

Jungkook hung up, the line going dead.

Your head felt as though it were filled with static, absorbing what had just happened.

Taehyung, however, wasted no time, immediately throwing his phone away and focusing all of his attention on you.

You could barely wrap your head around the situation, still trying to comprehend multiple facts at once. Taehyung wanted to fuck you. Jungkook wanted to fuck you. Taehyung and Jungkook were both going to fuck you. Now. At the same time.

You rapidly blinked, not even noticing the fact that Taehyung was drawing in closer, crowding your space more than ever.

"Is this—ha, I mean, well— is this for real? This can't be real." You absentmindedly shook your head, as though trying to wake yourself up from a dream.

"It's real." Taehyung’s eyes were intense, staring at you in a whole new light now, one you couldn't help but tremble under. "It's happening."

"But— This can't—"

"Yes, it can."

"No, you're just fucking with me with another one of your silly pranks. Was this planned?" You laughed, knowing the idea would be so Taehyung. If they were secretly recording this there's no doubt the look on your face is priceless. You'd kill him if he posted it. "Funny. Fun one. You got me."

"Y/N." He grabbed your wrists, pulling you in so your chest was against his, staring you in the eye. "Jungkook’s going to be here in half an hour."

You stilled in his hold, gulping at his words as you slowly comprehended the truth of them.

"So you're all mine until he gets here."

That made your heart stop.

You were barely able to make out words.

"I... you don't..."

"I do." Taehyung emphasized. "Do you?"

Your mind felt as though it fully shut down, the only thought in your brain being how Taehyung’s lips are closer than ever. "What?"

Taehyung didn't get impatient with you, instead being very understanding of the fact that he already turned you brainless without even really touching you. He moved a centimeter closer, his lips barely brushing against yours, like the particles that made up both of you were just passing by. "Do you want this?"

Your mind was in static mode again as Taehyung pulled one of your hands up to his chest, letting you feel his heartbeat against your palm. 

"You want me and Kookie?" Taehyung questioned further, clarifying. "I think we both made it very clear we want you."

Never in your life had you guessed your best friend would say that. You slowly came to terms that this very much wasn't a dream, and that Taehyung was actually saying this to you. "You want me?"

"I'll want you any way I can have you," Taehyung emphasized, a soft smile on his face. "Even with Kook."

"I... I can't believe you'd both..."

"Kook understands," he said, moving his lips closer to your pulse point below your ear. "He's wanted this longer than you'd think." His breath tickled your neck, and you shivered. "I'm more curious about how long you've wanted this."

You shuddered and found yourself pulling him closer, wanting to feel more than just his lips lightly brushing against you, teasing you when Jungkook could be here in less than half an hour. How long had he known? Had he always been observant, and you just projected some oblivious facade onto him?

"You mean longer than the bathroom?"

Taehyung’s gaze drifted down to your lips. "Did you?"

"I... maybe." You wanted to be flirtier, more enticing, but you were still somewhat in shock due to recent revelations. You were too stunned to even try to act sexy right now. "I feel like I'm suddenly discovering new things about you."

"There's a lot of things you're about to figure out. Just ask."

"How is it you know what I want?"

"Because, I know exactly how you feel about me," he purred in your ear, moving a lock of hair behind it. You held your breath when you felt the tip of his nose along your neck, so close, raising goosebumps. "I always have..." He dipped his head lower, pressing a small, soft kiss at the center of your neck. "I know how you feel about Jungkook, too."

You knew there was no way he could miss the way you gulped at that.

"Constantly fighting with him, building up so much frustration... you wanna know he'd take it out on you, don't you?" He pressed his lips again at the base of your throat, sucking softly, whispering the dirty secret into your skin. "Wanna know how I'd tell him to do it?"

"Fuck." You couldn't deny the wave of heat that flooded to your core with his words.

He chuckled, watching you fight back against the urge of curling in on yourself with how aroused you were. His hands gripped your waist tighter as he slowly got off the couch to move in front of you, lips ghosting over the center of your ribcage as he traveled down your body. "Want me to show you?"

"Where's all t-this coming from?" You breathlessly smiled, still trying to grasp the fact that this was all real, and not a serious maladaptive daydreaming episode. Taehyung was always so sweet, so respectful. How were you supposed to predict this side of him?

"From you telling me you want my best friend and I to fuck you," he hissed, giving a small nip now just to have you feel the sting of his teeth on your skin instead.

"You m-made me say it!"

"Yeah? I'll make you beg for it too." He rose up to your face, brushing your hair out of the way so he could look into your eyes properly. "Tell me what you want, pretty girl."

His hand slid up to your neck, not tight, but present, like he wanted to measure your heartbeat himself to make sure you wouldn't lie to him.

You licked your lips, trying to swallow down your doubts of courage. The feeling of being so vulnerable to him in this context was baffling.

"I want for both you and Jungkook to fuck me. Happy?" You managed to spit out the words, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Taehyung let out a wicked grin, whistling at your attitude. "Oh? Talk back, don't we? Yeah, Kook will fucking love you."

He finally pressed his lips against yours, hand sliding up to the base of your head , fingers tangling into your roots and keeping you locked in place as he devoured you, making sure your head wouldn't hurt from being pressed against the back of the couch. He wasn't tender or sweet, the way you probably would've predicted and fantasized about when you first met him, and the small budding crush you had on his cute features hadn't warped into something darker, more lustful. No, he was sure of his movements, kissing you with purpose, actions deliberate as he moved with noticeable skill that could only come from practice. His tongue slid against yours with an ease that made your knees weak. 

Taehyung was infuriatingly good at kissing you. You supposed it was to be expected, with how much action he probably saw, face like that and all, but still. He had this way of kissing you that made the rest of the world disappear, with only his hands on your face and his lips on yours to ground you. 

You eyes were fluttering shut, and soon you were both moving in tandem, finding a tune that only you two knew. The soft sounds of his lips smacking against yours filled the room, and the grip he had on your roots, pulling your hair properly this time, was driving you crazy.

"Please," you gasped the word into his mouth. He groaned and kissed you some more, his hand tightening as he pressed you further against him. You gripped onto his shirt, the taste of him so irresistible you forgot completely that he was your best friend, and you shouldn't be doing what you're about to with his best friend too.

You subconsciously spread your legs, drawing Taehyung in so you could grind your core against his.

He chuckled into your mouth, one hand moving down to your hip to pin you down and deny you. "Needy little thing, aren't you? We're just getting started. Let me take my time with you."

You wanted to scream at him that you two didn't exactly have time, but found your brain back to mush the moment he began kissing you again, lowering his hips to yours to slowly press his heat against you. His hand stayed on your hip, halting movement from you so that he could control the gradual pace, teasing and torturous as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. It felt so good to be pinned beneath him already, in his arms, like you two were made to fit together.

You moaned against his lips when the fabric of his jeans hit your clit in a particularly delicious fashion. He growled in response, hand cupping your chin better to angle your face a little more to the side, deepening the kiss as he slid his tongue in, letting it coax your lips along with his. He licked his way into your mouth, greedily swallowing more of your moans as the hand on your hip drifted down to your thigh, hitching it over his own hip to grind more securely against you. 

He rolled his hips, pressing you further against the couch as you felt him get harder against you, his hand tightening against your thigh as he tried to pull you impossibly closer to him.

"So fucking good," he rasped against your lips, mind spinning at all the soft, weak little sounds that escaped you. "Can't believe I finally get to have you like this."

You kissed him harder, hands pressed against his face, wanting to memorize the feeling of his cheekbones against your fingertips. You gripped onto his hair, his shirt, anywhere you could reach, try to rock back against his hips and fully feel the bulge pressed against your pussy.

"Fuck, Taehyung..."

"Mmf, say that again." He bit your lip before pulling back.

He pressed up at an angle that hit the sweet spot against your clit, and you had no choice but to obey. "Taehyung!"

"Shit, you sound so whiny." He buried his head into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into the skin just to hear another pathetic sound leave your mouth. He sucked hard, and you knew it'd leave a mark. "Kook’s gonna lose his mind," he groaned into you.

You threw your head back, your hips quickening against him. "Hee, please, do something."

He snarled at your impatience, nipping at your neck again in punishment before smacking your thigh. "Be patient," he grit, blunt nails raking over where he slapped you. "You're mine right now, remember?"

You nodded, a shiver running up your spine as his fingers trailed further down your leg before going back up higher and higher, ghosting over the fabric of your underwear.

His thumb brushed over the lace of your panties, and he bit his lip in anticipation. "Shit, I don't think you even know what's coming."

You canted your hips to receive more of his touch. "M-Meaning?"

"Meaning I need to start getting you ready for when Kook arrives," Tae said. He pulled on the waistband, dragging them down your legs and discarding them to the floor. "I need to make sure you're wet enough for both of us."

Hearing your best friend talk so dirty was enough to send your mind into a tizzy. You grabbed his hand and pressed him right against your sex, eager to not waste time and see how much he can offer you in twenty minutes. Taehyung took the hint, fingers sliding up and down, getting a feel for the glide and slick you've already produced.

"Shit, you're so wet already," Taehyung said in awe, lips parted as he admired the shine on his fingers from you. "Are you excited?"

"O-Obviously." You were barely able to contain the whine when he slides a digit inside, curling it up to search for your g-spot. "It's not every day a girl gets propositioned by a hot guy, let alone two."

He quirked a brow. "Oh? You think we're hot?"

Your cheeks shouldn't burn this much from stating the obvious. "I mean... you're not bad to look at. Don't let it get to your head."

Taehyung’s grin only widened. "And Jungkook?"

You glanced away, squirming a bit as you felt him find the sweet spot inside of you. "He's f-fine I guess."

"Look at you, getting so flustered," Taehyung cooed, bending down to peck at the flush in your cheeks. "You can admit you want him, baby. It's ok."

Hearing your best friend call you "baby" in this context was something else entirely. Before it always felt so casual, something you couldn't read into. Now he was saying it like you were his. Suddenly your hips were bucking against his hand more, your body beginning to take control of your mind.

He was speeding up, and your mind was steadily beginning to melt. "I-I—"

You felt more pressure build up as Taehyung slid in another finger, the wet squelching sounds of your pussy starting to get louder.

"You can tell him when he gets here," Taehyung whispered against your lips, wanting a front row seat to all of your pathetic whimpers and moans while they were still just for him. "He'll be thrilled."

Another whine escaped your lips from Taehyung’s ministrations.

"Fuck, why are you so good at this?" You muttered half to yourself, in disbelief that Taehyung was already making you feel better within five minutes than your ex did in five months.

He sucked against your neck, purposefully marking you, humming against the skin as he sloppily thrust his fingers inside. "Mm, you're just easy to ruin. You can't even hide how turned on you are."

You felt heat pool down into your abdomen, your tells showing. "Tae, I'm getting close."

To your dismay he pulled his fingers out of you, giving the side of your neck sweet kisses in apology. "Not yet. You'll need to wait."

He swallowed your whine of frustration, cradling your face in his hands and kissing you, the glide of his tongue against yours somewhat distracting you from the ache left between your legs. His kiss was wet, using just enough tongue for it to feel filthy, making sure you memorized the way he tasted.

Once your orgasm had surely died down he kissed his way down your jaw and your chest, getting on his knees, face all the way down to your now neglected pussy. He sighed with content when he saw how needy and wound up you already were, your body begging him to break it in properly. He couldn't help himself, giving your sex a sweet kiss as well, mouth trapping your clit and giving it the attention it was so desperate for.

Your back arched off the couch as Taehyung began eating you out, the wet muscle traveling between your folds and lapping at all you had to offer, his jaw widening so he could feel more of you. He moaned, and the vibrations made you buck against his mouth. He pinned you down firmly, throwing an arm over your hips, sucking on your clit reverently. Burying your hand in his hair, you let yourself get lost in the pleasure, his tongue dragging along you.

You looked down at him, his lashes long, kissing the apples of his cheeks as he focused on your taste, your breathy whimpers, the way your thighs twitched next to his head when he focused his tongue on the spot right beneath your clit.

"Fu-uck," you moaned, your nails scratching against his scalp as he got you close to the edge again. "Feels so good, Tae."

He moaned into you again in response, making you dig your heels into his back.

Pleasure pooled down to your abdomen, and you felt your abs begin to tighten. Before you could even think about hiding your orgasm from Taehyung, he's pulling away, making you shiver with the cold air against your hitting your bare cunt.

"No!" You whined, losing your grip on his hair as he rose up, rubbing your thighs in apology as he planted his lips to yours, replacing your complaints with the taste of yourself. His hand came up to your throat, not tight, but enough pressure for you to want to lean into it.

Taehyung didn't stop kissing you until your protests died and your muscles relaxed again, and you were just a desperate, breathless mess beneath him. 

When he finally let you have air, your eyes were glossy with the second lost orgasm. You slumped over and laid on the couch, panting with tear-brimmed eyes, frustrated beyond belief.

Taehyung gave an apologetic look, like if it were up to him, you'd be cumming your brains out by now.

"Poor baby." He pouted along with you, hand traveling down to gently caress at your folds, spreading them between his fingers and feeling how wet and denied you were. "Bet it hurts so bad, doesn't it?"

You nodded, squirming under his touch, wanting so badly to cum against his fingers.

He didn't give you hope yet, though, sliding his hand up to your lower belly. "It'll feel better soon," he promised, slowly pushing down and applying more pressure. "It'll feel really good once me and Kook are right here."

You gasped, biting your lip at the thought of them that deep inside you.

As if on cue, the front door opened, revealing a panting Jeon Jungkook.

"That couldn't have been thirty minutes," Taehyung laughed, rolling off you as Jungkook strolled closer to you two, his eyes devouring the sight of you teary eyed, cunt exposed and swollen, ready to be taken. His chest rose and fell as he breathed heavily, nostrils flaring as he stared at you with hooded eyes. The lust was palpable, every muscle in his body appearing tight, tense at seeing you so vulnerable already. Taehyung moved behind you, propping you up so your back was against his chest, adding to Jungkook’s view.

"I may have sped a little," Jungkook admitted, biting his lower lip. His eyes never left you, as though he were transfixed. "And used the stairs instead of the elevator."

Taehyung squeezed your face, grinning down at you, like he understood Jungkook’s obsession unquestionably. "Hear that baby? You're not the only desperate one."

Your eyes locked with Jungkook, whose gaze was intense and made it impossible for you to look away.

Jungkook cautiously raised a hand to your knee, slowly tracing upward as you shivered under his touch. "Has she cum yet?"

"Not yet. I've been edging her. Figured you wouldn't want to miss it." Taehyung moved your hair to the side to kiss your neck, pulling one of your thighs to the side to open you up more for Jungkook. "She does this cute little whine whenever she's close."

Your cheeks flushed, and your thighs twitched in response. "J-Just hurry up and fucking touch me already."

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek, and before you knew it he landed a sharp slap right against your cunt.

"Fuck!" Your back arched, your hips bucking until Jungkook roughly slammed them back down, planting another smack against your swollen folds.

"Is that how we ask for things?"

"It's how I—fuck!" You couldn't hold back the pornographic moan that tumbled out of your lips as Jungkook did it again, though this time rubbing your clit after, as though to blur the pain into pleasure.

"Such a mouth on you still." Jungkook clicked his tongue, as though disappointed. "Taehyung didn't teach you manners while I was on my way?"

"We didn't have much time for our lesson," Taehyung excused, pulling your shirt further up your torso to run his hand over your exposed skin, his touch gentle in contrast to Jungkook’s. "She's still learning."

"How many times did you edge her?" Jungkook trapped your clit between two of his fingers, applying pressure on the tiny bud to watch you gasp.

"Twice." Taehyung raised the shirt over your tits now, trapping a nipple between his digits similar to Jungkook.

"Wanna go for a third, princess?" Kook slapped your cunt again, making you cry out and shake your head, desperate just the way Taehyung described. Still, your reaction every time he strikes your pussy was noticeable.

Jungkook wasn't going to let you live it down.

"You like when I slap your little pussy don't you? Don't tell me we've got a painslut on our hands."

Your cheeks burned at the term, and your breath caught with embarrassment. Both could see it all over your face that you were getting hot and bothered by how he treated you.

Jungkook chuckled a bit at that. "Then be a good girl for us, and maybe, just maybe, we'll let you cum."

Your eyes watered even more, but even then, you nodded in agreement, now under the mercy of two men.

Jungkook smirked, victorious. "Atta girl."

"You should feel how tight she is," Taehyung suggested, giving a reassuring squeeze.

Jungkook finally sank two fingers into you, making your breath hitch. Jungkook’s gaze darkened, already imagining how your walls would squeeze his cock. "Fuck, what a tight little slut."

Your thighs twitched at the name, and both men took a mental note your reaction to being degraded. 

Jungkook started curling his fingers inside of you,  pressing against your g-spot, having the heel of his palm press deep against your clit. He licked his lips, eyes flickering between your pussy and your face, examining your open mouth and your small mewls as he started to work up what Taehyung started, the wet sounds of his digits inside of you filling the room.

"Fuck, you're so fucking wet. Tae must've really worked you up, huh?" Jungkook purred, sliding in a third digit easily, not missing how your eyes started to roll back as he stretched you out. "Bet you've been dreaming of this since the party."

"S-Shut up," you stammered out. "Says the one who was forming a boner."

"Yeah?" Jungkook started increasing the power of his thrusts, veins starting to pop out of his forearm as he did so. "Why don't you just shut up and let out more of those pretty moans?"

"Why don't you—" 

Your words were cut off but Taehyung pressing his two middle digits against your tongue, rendering you silent.

"Now now, play nice you two," Tae chastised, shaking his head. "I thought my baby agreed to be good, no?"

He slipped his fingers out of your mouth, earning a glare.

"Come here." Taehyung pulled your jaw to face him, kissing you and muffling any insults you had to throw at Jungkook. His tongue glided against yours, quelling your anger and making you buck up needily against the younger man's hand.

When you broke apart, you weren't even given a second to breathe, Jungkook’s large hand being the one holding your face now, focusing your attention back onto him.

"What? No kiss for Kookie?" He grinned at your scowl. "Or is Tae’s baby too good for it?"

"Give him a kiss, baby," Taehyung encouraged. "Let me watch."

You licked your lips, only allowing for a moment of trepidation before leaning into Jungkook. His lips met yours readily, hungry as he kissed you, the pace of his fingers quickening with every stroke. He growled when you moaned against his mouth, grinding his palm firmer against your clit in reward. He pressed his mouth against you like he was trying to brand you with his kiss, make you feel it even after he was gone.

He slipped his tongue inside your mouth, demanding, his other hand sliding into the roots at the back of your head, angling your face just how he liked so he could kiss you deeper. He groaned as you whimpered against him, trying to keep up a good fight. He made it look too easy, the effortless way his mouth dominated yours bringing you to shame. He sucked on your tongue a bit, the helpless sound you made in response only making him harder.

When he broke away you were both left staring at one another, gathering breath, analyzing the blown out pupils of one another.

This was Jeon Jungkook. The man you were constantly fighting for Taehyung’s attention. The one you couldn't spend five minutes with without starting an argument.

You weren't sure which one of you leaned in first, but suddenly you were both slamming your mouths against each other again, but this time hungrier. More desperate. There was a carnal desire in how Jungkook kissed you now, like he wanted to eat you and make you cry for every bullshit fight you put up against him.

Taehyung was mesmerized, his eyes never leaving you and Jungkook as you clung onto the younger, trying to bring him closer to you, clawing at his clothes as you expressed your pent up sexual frustration through the kiss. Taehyung’s hand slid down between you and Jungkook’s, his digits playing with your clit. You whined against Jungkook’s mouth, your orgasm starting to approach.

You broke away from the kiss, whining just like promised. "Please let me cum this time, please!"

Jungkook chuckled at how easy you were to break this time, purposefully slamming his fingers against the sweet spot inside of you repeatedly. "Aw, should I? But you were being such a brat earlier."

"Let her cum," Taehyung crooned, sympathizing with you. "She's got a lot ahead of her."

Jungkook always did have a habit of going along with Taehyung’s desires.

But he wasn't going to be nice about it.

"You hear that?" Jungkook scoffed, grabbing your face and bringing you close to his, his eye contact intense as he studied your pitiful expression. "Congratulations, sweetheart. You get to cum until your brain fucking melts."

You arched against Taehyung as Jungkook jackhammered his fingers into your cunt, right behind the spot where Taehyung was still toying with your clit. Tae doubled his efforts, pressing down harder, making sure to give attention to the spot right underneath that had your toes curling. Your thighs began to shake as your orgasm overtook you, and suddenly clear liquid was gushing all over both of their fingers.

Jungkook’s jaw dropped open, watching you squirt against both of their hands. He was completely enraptured, mouth dropping open in awe as he watched you shake like a leaf.

"Fuck, that's it, make a mess for me. Make a mess all over Kookie’s fingers," he muttered to himself.

You couldn't stop it, the pleasure coming over you like a tidal wave. You gripped onto both of them to steady yourself, droplets flying out of you as you shook. Neither man stopped, both continuing until you were drained of every last drop, eventually slumping over against Taehyung, the aftershocks of your orgasm riding it's course along your thighs until it was no more. 

Both men pulled their hands away, your legs giving residual twitches at the sensation.

"I... I think I ruined the couch.." Your voice had that breathless, cute little whine that made it impossible for anyone to be mad.

Not they would be in the first place.

"You did perfect baby." Taehyung kissed the corner of your mouth. "It's about to get a lot messier anyways."

You were limp and complaint as they both maneuvered you onto all fours, the dark stain forming on the couch mocking from beneath you. Taehyung yanked off his clothes behind you, shedding each article one by one.

The tip of Tae’s cock nudged along your entrance, sliding up and down your folds and catching at your clit every time he wanted to watch you cringe from sensitivity. Soon the small shocks would stop, and when you stopped tensing he focused more on your hole, slowly breaching it. It gave way, letting him push inside the first inch.

You held your breath as he started to get the entire tip inside, your walls stretching despite Kook’s thick fingers. Jungkook cradled your face in his hands, observing your struggle.

"Poor thing. You look like you're about to cry any second."

He leaned in, kissing you when Taehyung got past the tip, now slipping another inch inside you. Kook’s lips were a good distraction, letting you focus on the natural instinct to follow his flow instead of the overwhelming sensation of Taehyung filling you up. Jungkook slipped a hand down your body, gently twirling his fingers around your clit, coaxing you to let more of Tae in.

"That's it. Let him in. Let him stretch you out so I can have my turn. I'm not allowed to fuck you until after. "

You moaned against his lips. "Mmf— who says?"

You could feel him smile, like you had been let in on a shared secret.

 "We made a deal after the party." Taehyung hissed from behind as he sank further into you. "But we had been thinking about it for a while." 

You furrowed your brows, trying to form a coherent sentence and not focus on how good Taehyung was stretching you out right now. "W-What deal?"

Taehyung smirked at the expression you wore as he pushed in more, now over halfway inside. "That if we did this..." Both of you let out a strangled noise of pleasure when he bottomed out inside you, his balls now flush against your cunt. "I get first dibs."

Jungkook laughed, patting your cheek condescendingly. "Bro code."

That's when it dawned on you that you had fallen into Tae’s trap, just as he planned. The moment you asked the question, it was game over for you.

Taehyung pulled back some, giving a few experimental, shallow thrusts, letting you get used to the feeling of him. Eventually you stopped tensing up, loosening as you became accustomed to the sensation, your nerves coming alight as he started to go deeper.

"How's that dick feel, baby?" Jungkook mocked you with the pet name, combing his fingers through your hair in faux comfort, keeping your face angled up so he could drink in every expression you couldn't hide. "Is it just like you've always imagined?"

"Fu-uck you." Your jab lacked it's usual venom, instead becoming breathy at the end as Taehyung hit a sweet spot.

"Ask nicely," Jungkook bit back.

You were about to respond when Taehyung’s hand jotted out in front of you, grabbing Jungkook by the nape and pressing his mouth against yours, forcing the two of you to kiss to stop your bickering.

"Behave, both of you," Taehyung scolded, gritting it out as he started using longer strokes, letting you feel how long and deep he was every time he pulled out to the tip to thrust back in to the hilt. 

Jungkook seemed to melt against your mouth, not even arguing with Taehyung as he moved his lips against yours. Every moan that escaped your mouth and into his he took greedily, tilting his head to the right to kiss you thoroughly as each of Taehyung’s thrusts pressed you closer together.

Taehyung really was such a good mediator.

You broke away for a breath of air, glaring at Jungkook and his swollen, pouty lips. He glared back, though it seemed to be because you pulled away when he didn't get his fill of kissing you.

"I still hate you," you said, though the words have no bite. Not when each one comes out breathless and weak along with Taehyung’s strokes. Not when you give Jungkook that stare that lets him know that even if you did hate him, you wanted him in equal measure.

"C'mere. You don't need to talk anymore." Jungkook grabbed your face, making you arch your back further as he started kissing you again, unashamed with the wet, sloppy sounds of your lips smacking together or the low growls that emanated from his chest.

You two stayed making out for a moment, your lips repeatedly crashing against his as Taehyung rocked you back and forth on his cock. Neither of you seemed to mind, though, both breathless and panting into each other's mouths in a mess of tongue and teeth, and you desperately grasped onto Kook for stability. Kook sucked on your tongue, moaning when he felt you melt in his arms.

He finally let you go, pulling off his shirt, hands moving to his pants and pulling his flushed, aching cock out with little finesse. He's about the same size as Taehyung, and your jaw already began to ache as you examined the challenging girth.

Jungkook tapped the tip of his cock against your pouty lips. "C'mon, open that bratty mouth. There's a good girl."

You gave a gentle kiss to the head, and then another, opening your mouth more with each one as you started using your tongue, slowly making out with it the way you would either of them. You closed your eyes, suckling on it a bit, the same way he did on the tip of your tongue earlier.

Jungkook seemed to be enamored with the sight, jaw dropping open as you slowly progressed to kitten licks, peering up with them with the faux innocent look that only got him harder.

He muttered under his breath, curling his fingers into the roots of your hair and slowly pressing you down further.

You complied as he pushed your head down, opening your mouth greater as the full head was suctioned by your lips. 

Jungkook hissed when you flicked your tongue on the underside of his cock where the head met the shaft, and he slowly sank you down further, the gradual slide of your throat down on him making his toes curl.

Jungkook tossed his head back, feeling your throat suction around him as he start to fuck it properly. "Oh shit. Don't stop, just like that baby. Fuck, you're so good at this. Your mouth feels so fucking good."

He was decent enough to give a slow pace, following along with Taehyung who did the same in order for you to get used to being filled from both ends. Jungkook did his best not to buck into your mouth or push too far into the back of your throat. It started to get harder when Taehyung started fucking you faster, though, your body naturally being pushed forward again and again, making you gag further and further down Jungkook’s cock until his eyes were rolling to the back of his throat.

"Holy shit," Taehyung moaned, slapping your ass thrice in quick succession. "My baby's being such a good whore for us, isn't she? Fuck, yes, take it. Suck that dick baby, c'mon."

Fuck, hearing Tae of all people start moaning that you're a whore was spurring Jungkook on. Slowly his concerns and restraint of getting you used to two cocks melted away. You seemed to be a natural already, and Kook was always the type to tease and bully what he was secretly fond of. Taehyung was well aware. How else do you break in a toy?

"Look at me. You want both of us? You want to be a greedy little slut for one night?" Jungkook moaned, hand cradling your throat to feel how he moved inside of it. "'Course you do."

Taehyung slapped your ass again, your yelp muffled around Jungkook’s cock. Taehyung’s hooded gaze stayed glued on how your ass would ripple against his hips with every snap. Every time he looked up he'd see Jungkook’s bottom lip trapped between his teeth, the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, the way his eyes never left your face as he tangled his digits into roots.

His grip tightened on your hair as he bobbed your head up and down, Taehyung’s thrusts pushing you further down on both of them from either end.

"Fuck, you're both so fucking hot," Taehyung growled. "Such a good slut, taking our cocks like this. You're such a good girl."

 Jungkook grinned, looking down at your pathetic form, forced to take everything they had to offer. Your face was so flushed, your eyes trying to look up at Jungkook’s without rolling back. When he looked up at his best friend he saw his his hands digging into your waist to pull you closer, how his dark stare devoured the view, how his eyes kept meeting Jungkook’s to see if he was also losing his mind. He was. "How does his dick feel? Is he hitting the spot you need?"

You moaned in response, unable to give a clearer answer due to how thoroughly he was using your mouth.

Jungkook pulled you off for a moment, letting you moan out loud now in tune with Taeh thrusts. He tightened the fist in your roots, angling your head to look up at his cocky grin from above.

"You want me to hit it too?"

You bit your lower lip and grinned in confirmation, finally smiling along with him for once. It melted away though into a face of pleasure as Taehyung’s hand came around to your front, toying with your clit as his staccato thrusts picked up rhythm.

"Fuck, I'm fucking close," he moaned. "Need to feel you cum around me. Need to feel everything. Need—"

Taehyung’s words were cut off by Jungkook’s free hand grabbing his nape and pulling him in, slamming their lips above you. Jungkook slipped his tongue inside, eyes closed as he angled his head to deepen the kiss, swallowing Taehyung’s moans.

Taehyung grunted in Jungkook’s mouth, panting as his thrusts got sloppier and his digits rubbed harder against your clit. Jungkook’s hold on your roots was firm, keeping your neck craned, forcing you to watch how their tongues tangled together and listen to their lips smack, Taehyung’s groans turning into whines as he got closer to the edge, all being devoured by Jungkook.

It was too much, and before you knew it your cunt was spasming around Taehyung’s cock, cries muffled around Jungkook’s. 

Taehyung couldn't last much longer, hips stuttering as he felt you cum around him, his whimper against Jungkook’s tongue delicious as he buried himself as deep as he could, cumming inside you.

The two men finally broke apart, a spit of string still connecting them before snapping, leaving both breathless with parted, swollen lips.

Taehyung tried to recollect himself, garner his breath, try to regain some semblance of self. Slowly he pulled out of you, both of you winching at the sensation. You collapsed down onto the couch, a boneless heap. Slowly, white appeared at your entrance, Taehyung’s cum beginning to slowly trickle out of you.

"Fuck... look at that." Jungkook reached over and spread your folds, more cum dribbling out. He put a finger in, coating it in Taehyung and you, pumping it in and out, watching you shiver with sensitivity. "Can you take more?"

"Mmfuck," you whined in response, hips wiggling. Whether you were chasing Jungkook’s digit or running from it, you couldn't tell.

"C'mon, baby. Let Kookie fuck you good. It's about time you both start getting along," Taehyung cooed, running a comforting hand up and down your thigh to ground you.

Jungkook added another digit again, watching your face contort in pleasure as you squeezed your eyes shut. "Don't you want to make it up to me? All those times you were an annoying brat?"

Taehyung smiled, hand going up to comb your hair out of your face, his deceiptively sweet face reassuring you. "It's time for you two to fuck it out."

You nodded, and soon Jungkook was repositioning you onto your back, spreading your legs wider, pushing one of your legs up and over his arm, positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. Slowly, he pushed in, with both of you sucking in a deep breath. You grabbed onto the arm holding up your leg, biting your lip as he buried in hilt deep. Despite how open Taehyung fucked you, you still felt tight as ever around Jungkook, and you could feel him right up in your guts the way Taehyung promised.

Jungkook bit his lip hard, trying (and failing) to contain his grunt as he sank into your heat. 

"Holy shit. You feel better than I dreamed."

He gave a small, experimental thrust of his hips, examining how your breath hitched and your thighs clenched. Here you were, fucking the man who annoyed you most, who you were always fighting for Tae’s attention. You supposed this was a good way for both of you to get it at the same time, Taehyung utterly entranced as he watched Jungkook’s first few strokes inside of you.

More of Taehyung’s cum spilled out of you as Jungkook’s pushed further in, the first slide going much smoother due to how much Taehyung filled you up.

Jungkook’s pumps were shallow at first, noticing your small winces from overstimulation and possible soreness. Judging by the slight rasp in your voice that's already started to appear, you were going to need a bit of a recovery period after tonight.

Taehyung was growing impatient, however, believing Jungkook should've came in you closer to yesterday. He was eager to see you filled to the brim with both him and Jungkook, to see Jungkook’s cock limp and drained because of you. And here the two of you were, wasting time like always when you could be fucking each other's brains out.

"What, don't tell me you're scared of her now Kook? After all that talk?" Taehyung laughed, clapping Jungkook on the back of his nape, pulling him close. "Thought you wanted to fuck her?"

That got Jungkook going a bit, his next thrust sharper than the sloppy, slow rolls he was giving before. Your breath hitched, the sensitive spot inside you slowly drawing in heat. 

"Just—" Jungkook bit his lip, trying to control himself despite the devil at his shoulder. "Don't want it to hurt."

The laugh Taehyung barked out made him feel silly.

The grin Tae gave you bordered on menacing, like he was reaching his wits end. "Did you forget already?" The sharp smack he delivered to your swollen folds had you curl into on yourself, clamping down on Jungkook and causing him to rut harder into you, trying to sink deeper in. "She likes it."

Tae’s words woke Jungkook up from his worrisome daze, and he drinks in your expression from Taehyung’s action. The way your eyes watered and your lower lip trembled, but also the way you opened your legs further, as though asking for more.

The word pops up in Jungkook’s head again.

"Painslut," he growled.

Taehyung grinned wickedly as Jungkook began to properly pull his hips back, no longer restraining himself and delivering sharp, heavy thrusts that had his balls clapping against your cheeks. The plap plap plap accompanied by the wet gush of your pussy repeatedly swallowing his cock, as well as the pornographic noises you were both omitting, was music to Tae’s hears.

Both of you were staring at each other with such intensity, eyes never leaving one another's as Jungkook drilled into you, mouth dropping open with yours as you both experienced mind-numbing pleasure with each other for the first time when you were supposed to hate each other.

Taehyung could practically taste the mixed emotions from both of you in the air, and he lived off of it.

"Fuck her open." Taehyung bit his lip, watching Jungkook pull back and roughly slam into you again. "Harder. Make sure she feels it."

Jungkook furrowed his brows, delivering a harder thrust, savoring the moan that escaped you as he reached in deeper, tip hitting right against the spot that had you feeling weak.

Taehyung sucked in a breath. "That's it. Now you're doing it. Just look how wet she is for you."

You felt Jungkook twitch inside you at that. Taehyung’s commentary was doing wonders for both you and Jungkook, both of you getting seemingly more flushed. Kook’s thrusts quickened, his enthusiasm showing as he repeatedly hit that spot that had you gasping again and again and again.

"Fuck." Jungkook grunted, his grip on your waist tightening as he pumped inside. "Feel that? Feel how deep I am?"

He emphasized his question with a brutal thrust that had you scrambling for purchase, grabbing onto Taehyung as your body began to move with Jungkook’s. "Yes, K-Kook!"

"Fuck yeah you do. You love this, don't you? Love letting me use you like a little slut." Jungkook groaned, watching the bulge protruding from your lower abdomen. "Still hate me?"

"Yes," you spat out bitterly, your pride still clinging on in some semblance as Kook started pounding into you.

Both Taehyung and Jungkook laughed, and it only made your cheeks burn hotter.

"No you don't." Jungkook landed a smack against your pussy, feeling you clench around him in response. "Holy shit, you got so tight. C'mon, squeeze me baby. Show me how much this pussy loves me."

The cry you let out was pathetic, unwittingly obeying his command as your walls contracted around him.

"There we go. That's a good girl. So you can listen."

Taehyung hummed, enjoying the sight before him, watching both of you slowly unravel in each other. He saw it coming a mile away. He was just glad he got to see it finally happen first hand.

"I'm just so glad to see my best friends finally getting along." He pressed a kiss against your cheek, the action surprisingly tender given the filth of the situation. He pulled back, moving behind Jungkook so he could watch the view from his friend's perspective.

Both men watched how coated Jungkook’s cock was in Tae’s cum, the white glistening along his shaft every time he pulled back. Taehyung’s cum helped make the glide easier, extra lubricant added on top of your already dripping wet pussy. You could feel the wetness coating your inner thighs, and wouldn't be surprised if the surface area only grew as Jungkook continued using you like this.

"Fuck, that's so hot," Jungkook moaned, tossing his head back and drilling into you with more fervor, veins popping along his forearms as he slammed his hips against yours. "You're so hot. 'Course a pretty girl like you likes being fucked like a slut."

"So pretty," Taehyung agreed, biting his lip, eyes glued to where both of you were joined. "You're both so fucking hot."

He tilted Jungkook’s chin, turning him to face him as he planted his lips against the younger. Jungkook was responsive to say the least, pressing against Taehyung harder, his hips stuttering for a moment as his brain tried to keep up. Taehyung’s other hand slid down Jungkook’s abs, raking his nails along them to make Jungkook shiver and open his mouth wider.

Jungkook panted, his thrusts getting sloppier as he moaned into Taehyung’s mouth. You could see glimpses of their tongues dancing together with every part of their lips, the whimpers that Taehyung swallowed only driving you closer to the edge. Hearing Kook’s soft pants and moans, muffled against Tae’s lips as he held his face tight in his hand, not letting him free for even a second even as he grew breathless and his whines turned needy, was enough masturbation material for a lifetime.

"Fuck fuck fuck, I'm close," Jungkook moaned against Taehyung’s mouth, the words barely decipherable with how Taehyung was devouring him. He whimpered, the sounds getting cut off or replaced with the sound of smacking lips, Taehyung’s grip firm and unrelenting.

Taehyung finally let Jungkook go, letting the younger man moan and suck in deep, greedy breaths of air. Taehyung’s lips were shiny and swollen, and he stared down at where Jungkook was absolutely destroying you, his thrusts starting to get sloppier with every pump. "Cum inside."

Jungkook’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck—"

Taehyung looked down at you, where your eyes nearly crossed with Jungkook abusing your g-spot, the prospect of being filled up by your biggest annoyance making your back arch against the cushions.

"You want it, right?" Taehyung reached up and pressed his hand down on your lower abdomen, feeling his best friend through the barrier. "I can feel how deep Kook is inside you. You want it right here, right? Right where I'm pressing."

He pushed harder, making both you and Jungkook cry out. "Yes! Please, please Kook. Cum in me. I'm so close."

Jungkook’s hand moved down to your clit, pressing demanding circles against it to drive you to insanity. "Cum for me then. Make your pussy beg for it."

Before you knew it you were doing exactly that.

"Fuck, that's it," Taehyung hissed. He leaned more of his weight on the hand pressing down on you, his grin mischievous and wicked. "Good girl."

The combined stimulation from both of them had you spasming around Kook, your walls involuntarily quaking and squeezing his girth as promised. Jungkook let out a guttural groan, your orgasm triggering his own as he hunched over you, his hips stuttering as he began to coat your insides.

You felt the warmth as he starts to fill you up, some gushing out of you already and between your cheeks. Taehyung stopped pressing down on your stomach and grabbed Jungkook’s ass, having him gasp and rut deeper, cockhead firmly pressed against the deepest spot inside of you.

"Keep fucking her," Tae commanded, his tone leaving no room for question.

Jungkook did as he was told, continuing to pump into you as you started to cringe from the overstimulation. Jungkook was too, his groans morphing into weak little whines as he let out every drop into you, fucking you still. You could see the mix of pain and pleasure in his face, his thrusts slowing down as his cock began to soften.

Taehyung squeezed. "Don't stop," he ordered. "Keep fucking her. Don't you dare stop."

Kook, the loyal, pathetic friend he was, obeyed. His weak, stuttering thrusts continued, overstimulating you both as his pelvis rocked against your clit. His pumps were shallower now, lacking the power from before, as though every thrust now took something out of him. Both of you were left breathless, staring into each other's eyes, tears brimming them as you both broke further under Taehyung’s command. The man watched with a shit eating grin, clearly pleased watching your glassy gazes.

Jungkook’s head dipped down, and it took every ounce of strength not to collapse on top of you, humping you slightly with what he had left to give, his hips stuttering and sloppy. You felt a tear fall on your collarbone as he whined, not stopping his movements until Taehyung gently pushed him back. 

Both you and Jungkook cringed as he finally pulled out, the white appearing immediately and trickling down on the sheets. Jungkook slumped over you, breathing heavily, burying his face in the crook of your neck as both of you finally got to come down from your highs.

It turned out, however, that Taehyung was the hardest to satisfy.

He sneered, pulling Jungkook off of you and scoffing at how he broke before you. 

"What are you doing? Clean her up since she's been so nice to you."

Taehyung gripped Jungkook by the roots, lifting his head and planting him face first into your used pussy.

Jungkook obeyed, squeezing his eyes shut as he opened his jaw wider, letting you melt in his mouth. He lapped up Tae’s and his own cum readily, humming with satisfaction, his ministrations becoming greedy. You cringed from the sensitivity, but Taehyung didn’t let you run from it, using a hand to pin you down as he leaned over you and kissed the pain away. You tried to focus on how his lips moved against yours, but still found yourself bucking against Kook’s mouth and whining into Taehyung’s.

Taehyung smiled, tightening his grip against Jungkook’s scalp as he pushed him harder against you, chuckling at the tears in your eyes.

"See baby? I'm having him make up for being so mean to you," Taehyung cooed. "What do we say?"

"T-thank you," you weakly stammered out, feeling the coil tighten for the last time.

"There we go. I'll even help."

He shoved your legs further apart to make room for himself, pushing Jungkook’s head lower so he could slide his tongue inside. You gasped when Taehyung’s mouth joined, the dual sensation of two tongues against you bringing you closer to an orgasm no matter how much your body screamed.

Jungkook rose his head up higher, tongue meshing against Taehyung’s as both slid over your clit, trapping it beneath the pressure of the two muscles. Neither man seemed to shy away from each other, and you could hear the wet smack of their lips against each other as they made out, your cunt acting as a third.

Your thighs trembled, the feeling of both of them at the same time, and the visual stimulus of their eyes peaking up at you from between your legs, made the final orgasm of the night especially satisfying. You gave what was left of yourself, seeing white and feeling as though you were floating for a moment. Slowly, you came back down, feeling their hands rub soothingly along your legs and waist.

Both were panting just as hard as you, their pink, swollen lips an enviable shade, glossed with orgasm who-even-knows. Taehyung had a smug, calm smile on his face, whereas Kook had heavy lids, exhaustion starting to set in his bones with how spent he now was.

Taehyung patted your head gently, a stark juxtaposition to his rough demeanor prior. "Back to Earth?" He quipped.

You nodded, post-millionth-nut clarity settling in as you realized your best friend and his just gave you the best sex of your life.

"I guess now I have a better answer for all of those people asking if we've fucked," you joked.

That earned a laugh from Taehyung, and even a grin from Jungkook, who was usually impervious to your quips.

"You're so cute." Whether or not Jungkook meant to say that intentionally was unclear, and you weren't given enough time to think about it because soon he was having you taste yourself on his lips. And him. And Taehyung.

Taehyung was absolutely thrilled watching his two best friends make out, fucking pervert that he is. Everything went just according to plan, even better than predicted, and now he could finally reap the rewards of all his hard work.

The luminous lighting of the bar made the diamond set of jewelry glow under the bright lights and adorned your skin very well, oh, the set was gifted by Eunwoo a respected actor and an idol and also your special customer who gifted you this set on your birthday night.

The Bar was just getting started, the announcer called up your friends and you could hear the audience cheers, lacing up your heels and setting up your hair you released a breath, and you waited for the announcer to call your name.

"Let's call up to the pole, miss white diamond"! The announcer cheers up and you can hear louder cheers than earlier, and you start swaying your hips to the rhythm of the music, occasionally going into the audience of thirsty men who would stuff money in the back pocket of your thongs and some in your bras.

You could feel a certain someone coming up here early today it was none other than Kim Mingyu CEO of the reputed Kim Industries, who would adore you a lot and treat you like the most fragile glass on the earth the kisses after you both would be done never made your heart skip a beat.

While you come up to the pole again you see the other one just behind Mingyu seated Jungkook a pro gamer, he was a sweet boy and would never leave a chance to not make you blush, and whines left his mouth when you would leave him on the edge while sucking him off, he even liked when you give him a private lap dances poor boy would just come at the site of you grinding at his raging boner.

Eunwoo would usually join later at night but today he was here early walking swiftly and standing right next to the whiney boy, you try to keep calm, but you are intimidated by their persona, going back to the pole some money falling when you bend down for a certain dance move.

Shaking hands and greeting each other they sit next to Mingyu watching you slut around the other men in the bar deciding to tease them you start removing the g string of Mingyu's initial and throwing it to him, while they look at each other and Mingyu stuffs it back in his back pocket. While you're dancing around went on for a while the three of them watched you and drank some of the alcohol the waiter served and by the expressions on their face you knew you would be fucked by the end of the night and this was the first time, they were here together and them seeing you on the stage, you were mostly reserved for them privately.

Up for whatever is coming for you, you motion the boys in a "come here" movement. The boys exchange some words before you lead them to the suit which is reserved for personal dances and sex, and you illuminate the room with the red lighting, and you sit on the edge of the bed waiting for the boys.

Eunwoo was the first one to follow while Jungkook closed the door behind him and by the looks of all the three of them, you knew you they are going to rock your world tonight. Eunwoo leans over you his hands on each side of your hips so he can speak in your ear "Done slutting around? "He asks in a raspy voice and his lips take in your earlobe so he could give you a little bite.

Gasping you let out a whimper of his name he crawls over the bed and your back collides over the bed Eunwoo starts leaving soft kisses which soon start to get rough and purple hickeys adorn your skin while the other two boys get on the bed.

A ripping sound is heard across the room and when you know your Victoria's Secrets panties are ripped .... wetness has already coated your pussy lips while Eunwoo smooths his fingers over them and you moan liking the feeling, Jungkook and Mingyu now have undressed, and they now have their hard cocks out.

"Woo right there.... yeah perfect "you gasp as he massages the ball of your clit in a circular motion and his fingers are coated in your slick, a moan is heard in between which is emitted from Jungkook while he palms himself wanting your mouth on him.

"Been such a slut this evening you don't deserve to get to cum, do you?"Eunwoo speaks up his fingers leaving your pussy while you twitch in his hold wanting more, Mingyu rises from the bed and comes closer to you and goes for a Kiss on your lips "Be a good girl for us tonight yeah? and I'll give you everything you want" Mingyu assures while you just nod and get in the middle of the bed.

Mingyu leans down to take your wet pussy in his mouth, and you swear you let out a loud moan being overly sensitive did a great job Eunwoo and Jungkook were now on either side of you and they did a great job in sucking your sensitive nipples and sometimes tucking on them "Fuck Gyu so good right there " your hands are tangled in Mingyu's wavy hair. The ministration of his fingers soon pulls you to the edge and that's when you are about to come the menace between your legs pulls out while you cry out a whine in their hold.

"No, you are not going to cum until we say so." Mingyu tells you clearly and your cries soon die down when you hear a small voice of your name being called "Noona" Jungkook calls you out in a soft voice, poor boy is left neglected.

Turning around to face him you are on your stomach which is in contact with the bed while you sway your ass in the air wanting nothing but Mingyu's cock in you, Jungkook whines soon turns into moans when your rub the pad of your thumbs on the slit he spreads his legs wider to have you completely in between his thighs, praises leaves his mouth and his hands grab on your curly hair to make a pony Mingyu reaches behind you and rubs the tip of his leaking, and you moan at the sensation, "Gyu please" you heave out and get back to suck the whiney mess above you and your hands leave his thighs for a bit you could massage his balls and the spot behind his balls which keeps him going.

"Yeah, right there Noona feels good" he purrs in between the moans feeling a bit naughty you get down a bit so can lick the clenched hole and he tenses above you because this is something new you roll around your tongue and a groan is emitted when Mingyu slowly starts pushing inside you, lifting your head to the side your met with the sight of Eunwoo palming himself soft sighs leave from his pink lips.

Gripping onto Jungkook's muscular thighs you spread them more while he is a whiny mess above you occasionally tugging on your hair hard when licking a particular spot behind his balls "God so good" Jungkook moans and clamps your head between his thighs when you get back to his leaking tip and soon chases his high.

Changing positions for a while you are now sandwiched between Jungkook and Mingyu, the older one is hovering above you while the youngest is beneath you, his already wet cock rubs your clit and his tattooed hands come to grab your so he can grind it more on your pussy, Mingyu traces your tight rim of your ass, wailing a cry you go back to kiss Jungkook too overwhelmed to tell Mingyu what you want.

"Come on work for it, maybe use your mouth and tell me what you want rather than just whining "he says with a deep voice which makes a shiver run down your spine, while you look over your shoulder and ask him to just slide into you. Slow languid thrusts are followed by both of them, Mingyu groans a bit at the tight fit of your ass around his cock his hands squeezing the small of your back leaving faint purplish marks on your skin.

It was an easy slide in for Jungkook your warm and wet pussy engulfing his cock felt a warm hug, overpowered by the feeling of both of them inside you, the shiny nails of yours dig into Jungkook's shoulder which he heaves out a groan of feeling bruised.

The thrusts soon turn frantic and hectic, and you look over at Eunwoo who enjoys looking at you three, motioning him to come over here he stands with his leaking cock you manage to hand job him and suck on his read tip to which he reacts quickly and helps you to stay at one place, loud slurping, groaning and panting surrounded the suite.

"Ah baby want your pretty lips right here, "Eunwoo says cupping your mouth and telling you he needs you on the tip, the thrusts make it impossible for you to stay in one place, but you still manage, " oh, don't stop Gonna cum kook" you tell him in between while the both do a great job of making you cum, Mingyu empties himself first his warm cum fills up your inside while he takes some of his cum dripping out of your hole in his finger so could lick on.

Humming on the taste of his cum, he grips your face, and he kisses your lips goodbye, and soon after Jungkook empties his load leaving you hanging on the edge and his cum dripping down your pussy messing up the sheets under you.

It was just you and Eunwoo left in the room, their cums dripped down your ass, emitting a whine of not being able to cum Eunwoo lifts you from your previous bent position, your back is now pressed on the soft bed, and your plump boobs on display, nipples rock hard because of the chilly air in the room, his fingers trace your lips and soon come down to trace your boobs and stomach.

Looking over your desperate to cum look he finally speaks up "Aww, did my princess Think id let that little silly stunt go away? "He exclaims and leans down so he can just slide right inside you. "Fuck so good woo let me cum ...I'm sorry I won't do it again" you beg while he smirks "Bold of you to assume I'll let you do this again, "he says, and you don't think much he said in the heat of the moment.

"Spread them wider, yeah perfect baby. "He talks you through your orgasm praising how warm your cunt is rubs the ball of your red and swollen clit and angles your hips just right so he could hit your g-spot and make you scream his name louder, his hands rest beside you to keep him up and not collapse on you and you wrap up your legs around his waist, "Good y/n? feels good right?" he says slowing down to give you rough thrusts, giggling you answer him his eyes shaping in half crescents when he smiles and leaves small kisses all over face, and you swear you see something in his eyes which is unusual, and Eunwoo NEVER smiles and fucks you just like a normal slut but today?

Waving it off you enjoy the moment and soon gush out on his cock while he empties himself and collapses on top of you, shivering a bit when his cold diamond chain touches your hot skin.

pushing himself off, he lays right next to you making some space so you could lay your head in his arms and your head on the side of his chest, this is new, you think in your mind, you have a habit of them leaving soon after making you cum and kisses there were too many with him.

But shrugging off you don't pay any attention and think he is just overwhelmed by his orgasm just lay there and just when you were about to speak, he leaves you just like any other night.

A/N pt 2: RUSHED END ik but I hope you liked it anyways ....sry I will come back with a new fic better :)

TAGLIST

Sure, your job was amazing. Being able to speak 3 languages alone was a feat in and of itself, but at the end of the day, you felt lacking. Your social life had dwindled, something your family had been worried about since the second month of your working career, and although you thought it a nonissue at first, the loneliness built until it was something you could hardly stand to endure, but it was also inescapable.

You didn’t have the initials and birthdate of your soulmate etched in black ink on your left wrist, as everyone did at birth; instead, you had 14 letters and 28 numbers. The long sequence of characters had earned you confused looks from doctors at your yearly check-ups and a lack of social life. You’d had them memorised by heart. 

K.S.M.Y.J.H.K.N.P.J.K.T.J.J The stutter in the last two letters irked you to no end. And the numbers were a complete mind-fuck. 

12.4.92.3.9.93.2.18.94.9.12.94.10.13.95.12.30.95.9.1.97. What any of it meant was a fucking mystery to you and everyone around you. You were an enigma.

It wasn’t an existence you were keen on, and you know that it was a huge chunk of your family’s worrying. But you’d accepted long ago that you weren’t going to have a soulmate, that you’d either have to find someone else who was as misfortunate as you, or just settle with being alone save for one-offs and porn. It wasn’t like you weren’t living damn close to those truths now. 

You can still vaguely hear your mother chastising you for having such a full schedule. “You’ll never find your soulmate if the only thing you care about is your work,” she’d told you, thinking the overabundance of black on your wrist was a clerical error, and your lesser-than history of romance was a result of you not looking for them hard enough. It took everything in you not to break down at her harsh words, but you mustered a weak, “I’ve found them already, Mom, my work is my soulmate,” and left her townhouse. That was 6 months ago, and you’d not seen her since. You still stuck by your words, because even if you were lonely, you were beyond appreciative for the job you had, soulmate be damned. 

But sometimes the loneliness was deafening, and it left a question ringing in your head like a church bell. Was the writing really worth it?  

Friends from college couldn’t keep up with your hectic lifestyle of needing to be ready to board a plane at any given moment for an immediate press conference or high-profile interview your boss had scored you. You couldn’t have a pet out of fear of never being home to care for it, and your family couldn’t pause holidays because you’d have a layover flight that day. 

So, long story short, yes, your job was amazing and had definitely provided you with some of the best moments of your life (it’s not every day that you get to ask Hideo Kojima about Death Stranding,) but it’d also enhanced the evergrowing emptiness of your solitude, and piled on your shoulders round-the-clock work hours. 

“Y/N! Thank god you’re here,” your co-worker, Elle, greets you. She’d been the one person you could rely on the most since your first day. She’s a pretty girl, a few years younger than you, her colorful pencil skirts and chiffon button-ups always brightening your day as soon as you walk into the office. 

“Good morning to you, too, Elle.” You tell her, shocked when she quite literally hugs the breath out of your body. “What’s gotten into you this morning?” You ask her, stepping back to look into her eyes. 

“I had a few too many cups of coffee…” She smirks, “But, you’ll be proud of me! I got your interview with BLACKPINK edited, and it’ll be fresh on the press and on YouTube within the next few hours or so.” 

“That’s great! Thanks, Elle. You do need to be careful with your caffeine intake this early in the morning, though. We don’t need a repeat of Christmas.” 

She cringes at the reminder, vividly recalling the day she’d forgotten to eat and passed out when she’d gotten a papercut opening her Secret Santa gift. It’d cost her a week’s pay in medical bills once she’d been released from the hospital with a few stitches she’d scored from landing on her face in the office’s rec room. 

“Point taken,” she grimaces. 

You chuckle, nudging her shoulder as you work your way into your office, Elle on your toes the whole time. Your focus drifts as she tells you about her late night and early morning, because this is routine for the two of you now. You’re both free to chat amongst yourselves if you’ve finished your current assignments, something you’re grateful for, until your boss either emails you or makes her way into your office to assign you your next task. 

“Y/N?” Elle asks you, dragging your jaded attention from the swirling of the hot chocolate she’s readied on your desk, back to her face. 

“Huh?” You ask drowsily. 

“I said, did you hear that the Bangtan Boys are going to do a mini-tour around Seoul, Daegu, and Busan before they go on a break?” She says, exasperated by your lack of interest in her earlier monologues. 

“I actually hadn’t heard of that, yet.” You reply lightly, interest piqued, “is anyone from our office covering the tour yet? I know Andrew speaks some Korean, albeit not as fluently as I do.” 

“I haven’t heard anything in the office yet,” she answers. “But, that leads to the question, er, well, favor I have to ask of you.” 

You eye her questioningly, already cautious. 

“It’s just, I know that you’re sometimes allowed to bring a tagalong when there’s big stories like this to cover, so I don’t know… I was wondering if maybe I could be your plus-one if you get the story?” 

“Ugh, Elle, you know we don’t really get to choose the stand-in reporters for those trips,” you groan.

“Andrew told me that when he’s been given big stories that he always takes Cam with him,” she whines. “And I’ve never been out of the country, let alone the continent. It’d be an amazing opportunity for me to be able to leave New York for once.” 

She pleads at you with her eyes, full pink lips puckered and trembling. 

“If- and I mean if,” you emphasize, seeing how her pout turns into a near-blinding smile, “if I get the story, because honestly, we don’t even know if there is one; then I might consider asking Mrs. Powell if you can assist me as a co-writer.”

“Yes!” Elle shrieks, jumping up and down, chiffon bouncing and blonde hair waving across the room wildly. “I knew I could count on you! God, you’re so awesome.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you huff, checking your email. “Powell wants me to write a follow-up on the BLACKPINK interview, so I’m going to start on that. I’ll find you around lunch so we can discuss what I summarize,” you tell her, “oh, and Elle?” You say, stopping her in the doorway of your office before she leaves. “Remind me to kick Andrew’s ass later for being such a mushroom.” 

Elle laughs, stepping out of your office with a skip in her step. 

You didn’t exactly hate Andrew, but you trusted him about as far as you could throw him. He was ruthless in his interviewing and even more so in his everyday life. Beyond that, you guys had the same working position, prospective head reporter for M-Buzz, an up-and-coming Manhattan news source, and both you and Andrew wanted the head reporting position that only one of you would get. 

Four hours, three cups of coffee, and two bathroom trips later, the follow-up is written; the 4,000 words glaring at you from the computer screen. You type in Powell’s email address and hit send, letting out a sigh as you watch the check mark change from grey to green. 

Your mind, the persistent bastard, decides to wander back towards the dreaded soulmate topic, and although you weren’t too keen on staying in the mindset, you can’t shake it. 

At 21 years old, you’d never met another individual with a lack of ‘the signature,’ as most Americans referred to it. You’d moved cross country a multitude of times, studying various current events that arose, and interviewing until your mind was numb, but you’d not once encountered anyone with the same blank canvas that your wrist housed. 

You’d seen the way some people would glance at your wrist, nosy tendencies flaring, and then the way they’d raise their brows in shock, looking to you like you were some sort of circus animal. The pity in their eyes was acidic and made you want to vomit. 

You’d also have witnessed the irritation that would swell in your chest when you saw people treating their soulmates poorly, or ignoring their existence altogether. 

Cam and Elle could deny it all they wanted, but they were, in fact, soulmates. No amount of repression and cold insolence would change fate. They couldn’t deny their cosmic attraction forever, just like you couldn’t deny your cosmic solitude. 

There’s a small knock on your door, and then Elle is peeking her wide-eyed face through a crack, looking sorry for interrupting your train of thought. 

“Mrs. Powell just asked for you and Andrew to go to her office,” she tells you.

“Wonderful,” you quip, standing up and straightening your pencil skirt, not at all excited at the uncomfortable situation you’d be in once you entered your boss’s office. 

“I really think it’s about BTS…” Elle says shyly, walking alongside you towards the elevator. 

“It most likely is. She’s probably going to have us kill each other for the story.” 

“You were always a scrapper,” your friend jokes. 

“Don’t give me too much credit, Elle. I grew up in Washington. The closest thing to a fight I’ve been in was trying to squeeze into a bus with ten other people during a rainstorm.” 

“I’ve seen how you get when you want a position,” she tells you as the elevator doors start to slide shut, “you’ll knock 'em dead.” 

Her face disappears behind the metal panels, and the elevator rises. 

You could go for the job, yank it out from under Andrew’s nose, and enjoy Seoul, you hadn’t been to before, and you did very much enjoy traveling. Or you could simply stay home and watch Friends reruns, edit another reporter’s papers, and drink champagne. You could buy some Ben and Jerry’s and take some sick days, go to a spa, and just relax. 

The latter wasn’t you, though. You were driven, adventurous, and properly bored with New York. You needed a change of scenery, even if it were only for a few weeks, and if you could take Elle, that’d only make Seoul more enjoyable. 

With your mind set, and the doors to the elevator opening upon arrival to the thirtieth floor, you step out and walk with purpose towards the office marked “Powell.” 

“Thanks for finally joining us, Y/N,” Andrew mutters as soon as you’ve stepped foot into the room. 

“Nice to see you, too, Andrew.” You smile, masking irritation with friendly courtesy. 

“Cool it, Klein,” Powell huffs, eyeing Andrew coldly. “Go ahead and have a seat, Y/N,” she motions towards the chair opposite where she’s sitting at her desk, and you take it, avoiding the glare Andrew sends your way as you sit to his left. 

“I’m sure you’ve both been bombarded with notifications throughout the day about the ‘Persona’ tour taking place in South Korea later this month?” She asks, smiling, when you both nod. “Great, well, I had Margaret over on the tech floor set us up with better alerting algorithms last month, and they’ve worked magic for us today. We managed to book a two-person reporting gig for the entirety of the tour-”

“You’re sending me with Y/N? Doesn’t that seem a little redundant, given we’re both going for the same job?” Andrew groans, running his hand over his pointed face.

“Let me finish, Andrew,” Powell snaps, “I was going to say that you guys could pick who, amongst yourselves, would go with an apprentice, but given your outburst, I am choosing to send Y/N. We’re sending a reporter to interview the band and review the tour, not fight amongst coworkers.” 

You hold back a laugh, shocked that you’d gotten the job without having to lift a finger.“But- I didn’t mean to” 

“But you did,” Powell states dryly. “And now Y/N will be going to Korea for three weeks while you continue covering the President’s tweets.” 

That, you do laugh at. “At least you’ll have a lot of content,” you joke. 

Andrew huffs, grabs his coffee from the end table between your chairs, and leaves the room swiftly, jaw locked and scowl present. 

“So,” Powell shifts her gaze from the slightly slammed office door to your still-shocked expression, “your trip is pretty much all set up, you leave in three days, and the tour starts in five. The hotels will be paid for, of course, I just need to know who you’d like to bring along with you and whether you’ll be needing a spare room or just one with two beds when we book your stays.” 

“Oh, just one room will be fine,” you tell her, “I’ll bring Elle along with me, she does a spectacular job of helping to revise my articles already.” 

“Sounds great, I’ll just let HR know who’s being sent and fill out some paperwork, and you guys should be set. Your first interview with BTS will be the night you land, so you’ll have to get situated in the hotel quickly. From there on, I’ll continue emailing and calling with updates and schedules. Pretty smooth sailing, all and all.” 

“Just how I like it,” you smile, shaking her offered hand and leaving the room. 

You don’t expect Andrew to be waiting for you at the elevator, but there he is, in all of his angry-man glory; face red and temper very obviously still flaring. 

“Andrew, I really don’t thi--”

“No, you listen here,” he stops you, voice low and threatening. “I’ve worked my fucking ass off to be where I am today and I will not have my career ruined by some up-and-coming 20 year old floozy. You hear me?” He shouts, finger waving in your face as sweat beads on his forehead. 

“I don’t understand why you even-” 

“I don’t care if you don’t understand! My point is, watch your fucking back and stay the hell out of my way.” He spits, pushing past you and towards the stairs on the opposite side of the hallway. 

What the fuck? 

“He said what?” Elle asks, shoving another forkful of ramen into her mouth.

“The man’s fucking insane,” you tell her, twisting your own noodles with your fork, “it’s not like I targeted him as soon as I walked into the office! I literally just sat there and listened. Didn’t have to utter a peep.” 

“I can’t believe he called you a floozy. Is he stuck in the ’60s?” She mocks. “Listen, I know you’re upset, and after a situation like that, no one can blame you… But, Y/N, look on the bright side. We’re going to have so much fun in South Korea. I can’t thank you enough for letting me come with you. I really can’t.”

“Buy me lunch once a week for the next two months and we’ll call it even,” you joke.

“Deal,” Elle replies instantly. “You’re the only person I know who will eat noodles every day with me and not get tired of them.”

“It’s good food,” you reply, “people are just ungrateful.” 

It’s almost as if you’ve blinked and you’re getting off the plane in Seoul. The last few days passed by in a blur as you and Elle attended a few meetings, going over company policies and general rules of thumb. No sexually explicit questions, no touching the interviewee, be on time for the interviews, dress appropriately, etc.

“It’s colorful here,” Elle exhales, stepping to your side as you wait for a taxi. “Kind of exhilarating.” 

“It’s pretty breathtaking,” you agree, smiling at a taxi driver who finally acknowledges the two of you and pulls to the curb. You give him the hotel address once he’s situated your luggage in the trunk, and you rest your back against the leather interior as the car begins to weave through traffic. 

“Where do you wanna go first?” Elle asks after nearly half an hour of silence, “We could go to a local restaurant? Cam told me about a few places he’s been to that have completely ruined American cuisine for him.” 

“Well, first we have an interview.” You placate her, “food, after. Maybe we could walk the streets later and sightsee?” 

“Mmm, fair enough.” Elle smiles. “Thank you, Y/N. No, I really mean it,” she says, shrugging off the interjection that’s ready to roll off your tongue. “I know people usually say thank you just to serve their own egos, but I really mean it. You’re a good friend, and I appreciate that.” 

You blush, not quite knowing how to respond. 

“We’re going to have a great time,” Elle adds, filling the silence, “this will be the best work trip either of us has ever been on, I swear it.” 

“Alright, you’re getting sappy,” you chuckle, nudging her shoulder. “Save it for when we reflect on the trip a few months down the line, huh?” 

“You’re not very emotive, are you?” She jokes. 

“Hey, I can be emotional. I just choose not to act on my emotions in front of other people. I promise you, inside- very deep inside my body, my psyche is curled in the fetal position and crying from just how you’ve moved me.” 

“Shut up,” she scoffs, shoving you lightly. Her eyes light up as she glances out of the passenger window from her back seat. “Is that it?” 

You follow her gaze to the gargantuan building ahead of the taxi, and your mouth gapes. “That’s it…” You breathe, completely taken aback by how luxurious the hotel looked. 

“Wow…” 

“You can say that again.” 

You pay the taxi driver and bow, thanking him in Korean. Elle is already out of the small vehicle, pulling her luggage out of the trunk with a few grunts. You couldn’t hold off your work forever, despite how nervous you were growing. You could do this. You knew you could. Turning to the nearest bellhop and signaling him over, you begin to pull your suitcase out of the trunk.

“We have roughly 2 hours before we’re supposed to be downtown to meet with BTS for the interview,” you tell her. “So that gives us an hour to get ready. Powell said Big Hit offered a driver to us during the tour.”

“A driver? But we’re interviewing them, not the other way around,” she replies, following you and the bellhop as he escorts you to the front desk inside the massive building to retrieve your key. 

“I guess they really appreciate American media covering them,” you tell her, “maybe they’re considering another U.S tour sooner rather than later,” you shrug. 

“Your keys, Miss L/N.” The bellhop tells you, handing you the golden objects on a ring. Room #901, that’d put you pretty high up. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, smiling widely. “Would you be able to lead the way and get our bags up there? We’re on a time crunch,” you tell him in his native tongue. He nods his agreement and grabs a silver luggage cart from behind the front desk. 

You’re shocked that M-Buzz has put you and Elle on the top floor, not quite expecting the obvious pampering. 

“This is just so exciting!” Elle chirps, nearly scaring the poor bellhop. You offered him an apology for her outburst and huff. “I mean, the top floor? Cam has never mentioned being treated to a top-floor suite.” 

“It’s not what I figured we’d be getting, that’s for sure.” You mumble, “Maybe there’s some sort of catch? An extra 50,000-word write-up? Deducted pay?” 

“Oh, give M-Buzz some credit, Y/N.” 

“Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it, I do, and I’m not complaining in the slightest. I just didn’t expect it. We’re only going to be in Seoul for a week or so anyway. We have two other major cities to go to after.” 

“You have a point,” Elle agrees, “but I don’t think they’d dock our pay. The write-up seems more realistic. But you have gifted fingers, it’ll be a breeze for you.” 

“Magic fingers?” You question her, cheeks blazing.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Y/N. Everyone around the office calls you Magic Fingers because of how quickly you can pull a five-star article out of your ass.” 

You send her a pointed glare, this time verbally apologizing to the bellhop for her crudeness. You only had ten floors to ascend, and then you’d be free from the claustrophobic confines of the elevator and the awkward social setting looming inside of it.

“I just write whatever pops into my head, I don’t overthink it…” You explain, feeling completely self-conscious, breathing out a sigh of relief when the elevator doors finally open, revealing a large hallway with only one door on either wall. 

“Penthouse 901,” the bellhop announces, shoving the key into the lock and pushing the door open for you and Elle.

“Holy crap,” Elle squeaks. 

“Thank you,” you tell the bellhop, handing him a 10,000 won tip, hoping it’ll cover the cost for Elle’s loose lips. He bows and exits the room, leaving you and Elle to gape at the extravagant room alone. 

“This is kind of amazing,” you whisper, eyeing the white marble floors and granite countertops in the massive kitchen. 

“Kind of amazing? It’s fucking incredible, Y/N,” Elle corrects you. “They even sent us a bottle of champagne.” 

“For a reporting job?” You wonder aloud, still not quite grasping the intricacy of the penthouse you were situated in. 

“Who knows?” Elle answers, “I’m not complaining.” 

You shake the slight unease you feel, and start to unpack your belongings, makeup bag, and toothbrush, some of the first things you grasp. “I’m going to find a bathroom in this castle and get ready. You should do the same,” you chide, pulling your hair into a loose ponytail. 

“Meet you back here in an hour?” Elle shouts, already at the opposite end of the mini-mansion. 

“Sounds good!” You holler, pushing open a door and gasping at the bedroom in front of you. Satin sheets, dark maroon walls, wall-length mirrors, and a massive television screen glaring at you with purpose. “Wow,” you whisper, openly admiring the intricacy of the carpet and bedding. “Later, Y/N,” you order yourself, refocusing your whirling mind on getting ready for the interview mere hours ahead of you.

You had drafted a multitude of questions for said interview while on the flight, thankful that Elle had drifted asleep for the entire duration you were in the air. God knows you would’ve gotten nothing done had your coworker been awake. 

Aside from clothing and a tad bit of makeup, you were ready. Beyond ready, in fact. So why were nerves still prickling at the back of your psyche and rendering you a shaking mess right now? 

You want to break down and have a good cry, but you know that’ll serve you no good. You have a job to do here, and you weren’t going to let M-Buzz and Elle down. Maybe if you did a great job you’d have more extravagant trips to look forward to, Elle included. 

You splash your face with water from the connecting bathroom, and look at your face in the mirror. Nerves definitely had done their work on you, your pupils were still slightly dilated from your strange near-panic attack and you had cold sweats.

Thankfully, you had packed your favorite lavender body oil, which always seemed to soothe your anxiety when huge work or life obstacles such as this clouded your mind. A pat of the scented liquid against your throat and wrists, a natural makeup look completed with a mauve lip, and your new black pencil skirt paired with your pastel pink blouse and a high bun had you feeling rejuvenated and even excited for the interview. You didn’t even trip once in your nude Miu Miu heels on your way from your bedroom to the living room. 

Elle waited, as she said she would, in the entryway of the luxurious penthouse. “I thought you said Powell was going to hook us up with a one-bedroom?” 

“She did,” you tell her, “can you please not use the phrase ‘hook us up with’ in a sentence, please?” You groan. “It sounds like you’re talking about us fucking the room.” 

“You are especially frisky today, Y/N what’s gotten into you?” She asks, wiggling her brows suggestively. 

“Nothing has gotten into me, Elle,” you huff, “I’m just excited to do the interview, that’s all. I wanna bring up astrology signs and stuff,” you explain, “it’s going to be fun!” 

“For you,” Elle quips, leading you out of the room and into the elevator. “Not everyone is as involved with astrology as you are, you know.” 

“I’m not involved with astrology,” you huff, “readers like to learn this stuff about their celebrity crushes. It’s not far-fetched,” you grumble. 

“I’m just teasing you,” she laughs, nudging you. “I’m sure the interview will be fun. I know you were brainstorming our questions and topics the entire flight.” 

“Wha-”

“You type loud,” she shrugs. “It’s good to be prepared, don’t be embarrassed.” 

You want to argue with her for the sake of your ego, but you know she was right. She’d embarrassed you, not necessarily a hard feat for her, given how well she’d come to know you. 

“Powell wants me to try and interview them in mainly English, but she said that if I think it’s easier to do it in Korean, that would work, too.” You tell Elle, kicking at the elevator floor as it continues its slow descent. “I don’t like it when she leaves me to make the big decisions.” 

“Oh, Y/N. You always do this.” Elle groans, rubbing her hand against her face.

“Do what?” You ask, slightly defensive.

“Psych yourself out before the interviews you do. You second-guess everything, and then the second we walk into the interviewing room, you completely shift. It’s like you were never worried in the first place, you just… go with the flow?” She explains, “it makes the worrying you do beforehand incredibly frustrating. Especially knowing how confident and driven you are outside of interviews and work.” 

“I’m sorry…” You say, sad that you’d made her even an inkling upset. 

“Don’t be, it’s very you. I’m not frustrated you experience it, just frustrated you don’t seem to credit yourself enough on how spectacular of a job you do all in all. And as far as the English or Korean topic goes, the guys have been learning more English from what I’ve learned, so they might surprise you and make the decision for you.” 

“I appreciate that,” you tell her, because truthfully, you do. “I’ll try my best not to be a mope the rest of the tour, I swear!” You hold out your pinky, grateful that she doesn’t leave you hanging as you lock in your promise. 

The elevator finally dings, and the two of you step out, crossing the lobby quickly and hopping into the black SUV that waits outside of the hotel with your name in the passenger window. The driver greets you, quickly explaining his job at Big Hit, which literally consists of driving interviewers and members of Big Hit to and from locations during tours and press conferences. 

“We appreciate you driving us,” you tell him in Korean, leaning towards the front seats so you can see him better, and noting his slight blush and the creases that form at the corners of his eyes as he takes your compliment. 

“We will be arriving at the Big Hit building in ten minutes,” he tells you, “it’s a pretty short drive.” 

“That’s great. We’ll make it on time, then.” You smile, repeating his statement in English for Elle as she watches the night scenery flitter by her outside of her window. 

“Do you think they’ll be as beautiful as they are on screen in person?” Elle asks.

“More than likely,” you answer her, “but we aren’t here to pine over them. You’ve got a soulmate back home to worry about,” you chastise her.

“Yeah, but you don’t.” She replies dryly after a few minutes pass, “and I am still single, you know.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave her off, “you and Cam have both made that abundantly clear.” 

“Shut up,” she mumbles, pulling her cardigan tighter around her body while she sulks. “It’d be weird if we got together.” 

“Why?” You ask her, interest piqued, “Because you work together? Don’t give me that.” 

“No, because I dated his brother in high school.” 

You were not expecting that. Whatsoever. 

“You dated his brother?” You ask incredulously. 

“Yes, his brother. Adam.” She snaps. “Didn’t end all too well.” 

“I’m sorry, Elle,” you tell her honestly, “I didn’t know. If I did, I wouldn’t joke about it.” 

“It’s okay, there are reasons Cam and I don’t bring it up.” She shrugs. “Oh, look!” She points, and you follow her finger, seeing the mostly-glass-constructed building that’s lit up down the expansive driveway you’ve turned onto. 

“That’s a lot of windows.” 

“Nice assessment.” Elle laughs. 

“Thanks. It was exhausting to make.” You joke back, pulling your notebook you kept with you during interviews, out of your purse. 

“I can’t believe we’re going to meet them,” Elle smiles, “I’ve been listening to them since 2 Cool 4 Skool was released.” 

“I listened to Wings when it was released, but aside from that, research is my extent of BTS knowledge.” You tell her. 

“Wait, what?” She asks, taken aback.

“I just kinda stopped listening to music and paying it any attention after my dad passed away in high school.” You shrug. “They released that in my senior year, so I gave it a listen. It was good, but I don’t know. I didn’t want to listen to music like I did when my dad was around, I guess.” 

The car comes to a stop before Elle can reply, and your driver steps out to open your door. You bow, thanking him and heading towards the Big Hit worker who waits for you and Elle at the front door to the Big Hit establishment. 

“Y/N?” The young woman asks. 

“That is me.” You answer kindly, shaking her offered hand. 

“The boys are waiting for you and your co-writer in the main room. I am Mai, and I will be guiding you there and staying on hand for any questions you may have during the interview.” She tells you.

“That’s wonderful! Thank you.” You answer her, following her and signaling for Elle to do the same as she leads you over the threshold and into the marvelous entryway of the building.

“This way,” she directs you, stepping down a small flight of stairs and into a ridiculously well-lit room, every piece of furniture and decor white, save for the three chairs and two sofas that are burgundy. 

You can feel sets of eyes on you as you enter the room, but you wait until you’re sat in the lounge chair that Mai directs you to stand in front of to raise your chin and look the boys in the eyes. 

To say they’re gorgeous is quite possibly a disservice to them. They’re ethereal, otherworldly. 

“Hello,” you address them, your voice surprisingly steady given your inward disarray from simply looking at them. “My name is Y/N L/N, I’m a reporter from M-Buzz, an up-and-coming news source in Manhattan, New York.” 

Some of the boys are glancing at you with confused expressions on their faces, and you can swear that two of them look at you with complete shock and bewilderment. You save yourself a lengthy self-analysis and repeat your introduction to them in Korean.

“Woah! Are you fluent in Korean?” One with a giant smile, black hair, a yellow Gucci crewneck, and an exuberant voice asks you. 

“Hoseok, we haven’t even introduced ourselves,” another rebukes the man who must be Hoseok, his voice a velvety, rich sound that nearly has you blushing. 

“I’m so sorry!” Hoseok rushes, bowing to you, “My name is Jung Hoseok, or JHope! It’s nice to meet you.” 

You smile gently at him, “It’s nice to meet you, too, Hoseok.” 

“I’m Kim Namjoon, or RM,” the one with the rich voice tells you, bowing as Hoseok did. He’s very well defined and the tallest of the bunch. His lips are drawn up in a smile, but you can tell that they’re shapely. You absentmindedly notice his hands, the size of them, and the muscles that shift in his arms as he plays with his hands in his lap. 

“Don’t keep her all to yourselves,” another voice rings out. You glance at the owner of the new voice, pleased with what you see, though you’d never say that aloud. His lips are full, eyes bright, and hair a butterscotch blond. “I’m Kim Seokjin, but ARMY calls me Jin, or Worldwide Handsome.” 

You smile, returning his bow. 

“I’m Kim Taehyung!” A man with a bandana tied across his forehead to keep back his chocolate brown hair smiles, eyes bright and boxy-smile infectious. “ARMY calls me V.” 

“I’m Jeon Jungkook!” The muscular figure next to Taehyung introduces himself, his smile wide and cheeks flushed as you shift your gaze to him. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.” He smiles even wider, a feat you thought impossible. 

“I’m Park Jimin!” The next introduces himself, his smile sweet, but something lying beneath his eyes tells you that sweet is something he can be far from. His hair is a light pastel pink, his eyes crinkle as he smiles at you, bowing. You recognize that he’d been one of the men to look at you in shock.

You look to the last figure, sensing his eyes still on you. They are. He looks to you with the same expression Jimin had prior to the introductions, eyes serious as they take you in. “Min Yoongi,” he says simply, nodding his head towards you. 

You smile at him, slightly uncomfortable with the way he and Jimin seem to be fixated on you. 

“It’s nice to meet all of you. This is my co-writer, Elle.” You motion towards your protege. “She doesn’t speak Korean.” You explain. 

“Ah,” Namjoon speaks up, “they aren’t all fluent in speaking English yet, but they’ve been practicing and understand most of it. We can do the interview in English and then translate what needs to be translated into Korean. If that works?” 

“That’s great!” You answer him, breaking into English to explain the conversation to Elle. You smile when the guys all introduce themselves to her in English. The beginning of the interview goes about how all interviews ever go. 

The cameras are set up, you redo your introductions, and you ask the basic questions. Favorite colors, favorite songs on their current album, favorite songs of theirs in general, celeb crushes, etc. 

You’re excited when the first thirty minutes pass and the interview opens up to the part you’re most hyped for. Astrology. This had been fun to come up with. 

“So, for this next part of the interview, I’d like for us to talk about our astrology signs in order from oldest to youngest. The fans are really excited about this.” 

“Dinosaur Jin!” Taehyung shouts, earning guffaws of laughter from everyone but Jin. 

“You won’t be laughing when you’re 26 and exhausted,” he pouts. 

“So, Jin-hyung is the oldest. When’s your birthday?” You ask, preparing your notepad. 

“December 4, 1992.” He tells you, and your brain momentarily comes to a stop. 12.4.92 plays on a loop in your mind. “That makes you a Sagittarius,” you tell him, “your sign is an archer! Your element is fire, your birthstone is topaz, and your ruling planet is Jupiter, the biggest one.” 

“As it should be.” He quips, wiggling his eyebrows at his bandmates. 

“Who’s next?” You ask, nerves building. 

“Suga!” and “Yoongi” are immediately shouted out, and the man in question tears his eyes from you to look at his members. 

“Huh?” He asks.

“You weren’t paying attention again, hyung! You have to tell Y/N when your birthday is,” Mai interjects from her director’s chair.

“Oh, sorry.” Yoongi mumbles, turning back to face you, gaze heated. “My birthday is March 9, 1993.” 

You freeze, more of the code on your mind ringing in your ears. 3.9.93. 

“That makes you, uh…” You trail off, thinking. “Pisces! That’s it. Yeah, your sign is two koi, your element is water, your birthstone is amethyst, and your ruling planet is Neptune!” 

“Cool,” he answers emotionlessly, still gazing at you, looking nothing short of perplexed. 

“Next?” You call.

“Hoseok!” Namjoon tells you, looking at his friend proudly.

“My birthday is February 18, 1994! I think I was already told that I’m an Aquarius!” He explains happily. 

You’d love to reply with enthusiasm, but the numbers are rolling in your mind, and now you’re tying the letters into them as well. Jin’s birthday was the first set of numbers on your wrist, but his initials were S.K? Wait, no. If you used Korean, as you should, his initials were K.S.

Your feet lift you out of your seat and out of the building without a second thought, and you race for the car, already asking the driver to take you back to your hotel immediately. He looks concerned, but acquiesces, pulling out of the driveway swiftly. In your haste, you’d left your notebook and Elle, but you’d shoot her a text or call her once you got back to the penthouse. You’d needed to do some research and figure out if you were right on this.

Because there was no way in hell that BTS, in its entirety, was your soulmate(s).

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Kim Seokjin. December 4, 1992. The name and birthdate correspond perfectly with the first set of initials and date. You could chalk it up to coincidence, but looking more into it had your heart threatening to leap from your throat. 

Min Yoongi. M.Y. The second set of initials, another match. March 9, 1993. Another flutter rose in your chest.

Jung Hoseok. J.H. February 18, 1994.

Kim Namjoon. K.N. September 12, 1994. 

Park Jimin. P.J. October 13, 1995. 

Kim Taehyung. K.T. December 30, 1995. 

And Jeon Jungkook. J.J. The stutter at the end of your frustratingly long list of numbers. September 1, 1997. 

You’d need a massive bottle of vodka to wash down the events of this evening. The Big Hit driver, Shei, you’d learned his name on the drive back to the hotel, had asked you numerous times what was happening. You couldn’t blame him; you’d essentially shoved him back into the SUV and ordered him to take you back to the hotel as if your life depended on it. 

He didn’t hesitate; you’d figured that wasn’t in his code of conduct. He obliged immediately, peeling out of the Big Hit Entertainment driveway without a care to give. 

He did want answers, as any person under the amount of stress and complete confusion you’d forced onto his shoulders would be. But how were you supposed to explain that during the most pivotal and important interview in your career to date, you’d discovered and found that not only did you have a soulmate, you had seven! And to make a confusing situation even more confusing, all of your soulmates made up one of the most sensational boy groups ever? Shei would probably make a U-turn on the freeway and take you to a psychiatrist, which, now that you think about it, could be helpful. 

“You left me!” Elle shouts through the phone, “I had to wing the rest of the interview, and the boys all got really quiet after we finished the astrology skit!” 

“Wait- finished it? How?” You question her, momentarily forgetting about the inner soliloquy. 

“You left your notebook in your chair! I told them about your horoscope and then mine.” She huffs. “That’s not what matters, though! Don’t try and get me sidetracked. You left me alone, and I didn’t know what to do! I just listed out your questions like a robot!” 

“You told them my horoscope?” You choke out, breathing becoming more difficult with each passing second, she doesn’t answer.

“What the fuck, Y/N? Weren’t you going to? The notes said to compare and contrast our horoscopes with theirs!” 

You mentally slap yourself, angry with yourself that you’d forgotten your notebook and that you hadn’t prepped Elle better, for her own sake, before the interview.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear…” You sigh. “I just… I had to come back to the hotel.”

“Why?” Elle argues, and you feel the bitter pang of guilt well in your chest. She’d never spoken to you so harshly, and what hurts more is that you know she’s not in the wrong. You were unprofessional. “What was so important that you left me and BTS hanging? You know, we’re going to have to speak to HR about this?” 

Fuck. You really didn’t think your actions through at all.

“I can speak to HR,” you reassure her. “There’s no excuse for leaving the interview like that. I know that much. I just- I don’t know! Have you ever had a fight or flight instinct kick in?” 

“What? No?” Elle answers. “I don’t understand what that has to do wi-”

“I had to leave, Elle.” You explain, exhaustion and jet lag sinking in and catching up with you. “I just-I went into a weird shock and I needed to leave.” 

Elle remains silent for a few minutes, and you almost check the call to make sure she hasn’t hung up on you. “Okay…” she sighs. 

“Thank you-”

“No, no, no. Don’t shove the thank you’s onto me right now. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, still. I’m not completely stupid or oblivious, Y/N.” You can hear her grimace through the phone line. “I saw the way that the guys froze up when I told them your birthday.” 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“And I know for a fact that Yoongi and Jimin looked at you like you’d shocked them with tasers when you gave them your name!” 

“Elle-”

“No! Don’t ‘Elle,’ me. Explain to me what’s going on!” 

You grip the phone tightly against your ear, afraid to say what you know is most likely the truth. The words are about to slip out of your mouth, but a sob emerges instead, shocking you and most likely scaring Elle.

“I just- there’s so much going on and I don’t know what to do.” You stammer out, shaking on the loveseat you’re curled into. “I can’t even begin to tell you what’s going through my mind right now.” 

“Holy shit, it’s that bad? Did one of them hurt you?” She asks, and you can vaguely hear her asking, no, more like ordering, someone to drive her to the hotel.

“No!” You shout, “No! They didn’t hurt me. I’ve never met any of them before.” 

“You swear?” She asks, voice slightly wobbly with worry. 

“I swear on my life,” you reply instantly. “It’s just way too much to explain over the phone, can’t I just tell you when you get back?” 

She hesitantly obliges, but forces you into staying on the line with her until she gets off the hotel elevator onto your floor. You can tell she’s been worrying her ass off when she walks into the living room of the penthouse, eyes wide, pupils dilated and breathing labored. 

“Now,” she breathes loudly, “care to explain what the actual hell is going on?” 

You scooch over, patting the cushion next to you, and Elle sits down, gaze worrying at your teary eyes and confused face. 

You bite your bottom lip, wondering if showing her would be easier than explaining. You know she’d seen the lengthy piece of ink on your wrist before at work, but you’d explained to her that you were just an error in the universe’s system. Certainly, no one in existence, even someone with the largest imagination, would deduce that you had seven famous soulmates. 

“Just- look.” You breathe out, deciding on ‘fuck it,’ and shoving your armsleeve up to your elbow. You twist your wrist, giving Elle a very clear view of the long list of numbers and letters. She takes her time, eyeing all of the black print before looking at you, still confused. 

“Kim Seokjin,” you point towards the first set of initials, “born on December 4, 1992.” You point to the corresponding date. She knits her brows together, refocusing on the puzzle on your arm.

“Min Yoongi,” you point again, “March 9, 1993.” 

“Jung Hoseok,” she whispers in awe. “Kim Namjoon, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook… Holy shit.” 

“And now you see my dilemma.” You conclude, cocooning further into the giant hoodie you’d shrugged into once you got back to the suite. “I always thought that this,” you wave your left arm around dramatically, “was just a sign that I was pretty much condemned to isolation. But, nope! I’ve got seven fucking soulmates and they’re all ridiculously famous. How the hell is any of that supposed to work?” 

“Wait,” Elle stops your monologue, “does this mean that they’re all each other’s soulmates? Or is it just your initials and birthdate on their wrists? Or…” she starts, “maybe nothing of yours is on their wrists.” 

“Well-”

“No! Because Jimin and Yoongi looked like two fish out of water when you told them your name, and the rest of them looked the same after I’d told them your birthday.” She explains. 

“So we can assume that my initials are on their arms?” You question aloud. “I don’t know if I want to jump to that conclusion yet.” You huff, “This all just seems so… ridiculous? I don’t understand how I’d end up with BTS as my soulmate, or is it soulmates? I didn’t think you could even have more than one!” 

“It’s not unheard of,” Elle tells you. “My great-grandmother had both her first husband’s and second husband’s initials and birthdates.” 

“Yeah, but those are two people,” you say, remembering when she’d told you of her great-grandmother. It’d been on a work trip some months back, if you remember correctly. “I have seven people tattooed across my wrist. And I didn’t plan on marrying seven times.” 

“Maybe you don’t have to.” Elle reasons, “We don’t know how their relationship works. We don’t know if they’re just working together or if they’re something more. We don’t know how many initials they have on their arms. They cover them with makeup before every public appearance they make.” 

“I guess you’re right…” You grumble. “I just don’t understand. Why me?” You ask no one in particular. 

“Maybe you’ve got enough moxie for seven guys,” Elle jokes, nudging you playfully. “C’mon, Y/N. You’re hot! A complete catch. Why shouldn’t you have seven devastatingly attractive men pining for your affections?” 

You roll your eyes, groaning at the thought of seven fully grown men trying to get your attention. “It’s a headache waiting to happen,” you tell her, rubbing your temples. 

Both of you jump when Elle’s phone rings. You look at her, confusion running amok through your mind. She shrugs, answering the call with a smooth ‘hello.’ 

“Oh! Hi!” Elle chirps, mouthing ‘Big Hit’ to you. “Ah, that’s so generous of them!” She smiles, “Yes, of course. Nerves can get to anyone,” she points a glance at you. “Tomorrow? That works!” Pause. “Thank you so much, I can’t express how much we appreciate this opportunity.” 

She taps off the call, turning to you immediately with a blinding smile. 

“The boys worked their magic and have told Big Hit not to file a complaint over your work manners,” she laughs, “and they’d like to meet up again tomorrow for a rerun. At a restaurant they’re having rented out!” She squeals.

“They’re renting out a restaurant?” You cough out, completely taken aback. “And they stopped a formal complaint from being filed?”

“They’re your knights in shining Gucci tuxedos.” Elle laughs.  

“Not funny…” You snap. “That’s too much to expect from them…” you sigh.

“You didn’t expect anything,” Elle reasons, “they’re being nice, and honestly? They might be trying to break the ice.” 

“What ice?” You groan, offended at her cliché wording.

“You know, the awkwardness that today probably blew up like a helium balloon. You did literally sprint out of the interview after Hoseok mentioned being an Aquarius.” 

You blush crimson at the reminder, “Thanks for that.” 

“Hey, you’re the one who turned into Usain Bolt during an astrology reading. Not me.” 

“Fuck off!” You shout, throwing a couch pillow at her and hitting her directly in the face.

“Uncalled for,” she whines, hitting you back with it. “You have to go see them.” 

“No, I don’t!” You argue, “I have options. I could flee the country, or the continent! Go home, pack my little townhouse, and move to Alaska.” 

“Alaska?” Elle asks, exasperated. “Really?” 

“It’s far enough away.” You shrug.

“Don’t pull this! You should at least meet with them and see what they think of everything. I’m sure they’re as confused as you are.” Elle chides. 

“Fine!” You shout, standing from the couch and heading for your bedroom, “but don’t be shocked if I’m in a shitty mood in the morning!” 

You hear her laughing as you seclude yourself into your room, the events from the day rendering you beyond exhausted. You let out a big sigh, climbing into your bed and under the covers. You’d be meeting up with the boys for the second time within 24 hours tomorrow. 

You honestly couldn’t tell whether you were excited at the nearing reunion, or completely fucking terrified.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You bolt straight up, cold sweat dripping off your body. You’re confused initially, remembering very vividly how you were drowning a second ago. It takes a few minutes for your body and mind to adjust, the realization that you were dreaming slowly resounding in your mind, slowing your breathing, and calming your racing heartbeat. Your fingers loosen their vice-like hold on the silken sheets beneath your trembling body.

You were in Seoul, and you’d landed, you glance at the clock on the bedside table, roughly 7 hours ago. The number ‘7’ lights up in bold script behind your eyelids. 7 soulmates. BTS.

Your mind whirls through the damn near delusional happenings of the day before, trying to piece together some sort of explanation or resolution to your dilemma, but you come up empty handed. You scoop your phone off the bedside table, immediately opening ‘Google’ and typing in what you assume you should type given your… predicament. 

‘What does it mean to have more than one soulmate?’ glares at you, the brightness of the phone screen only adding to the discomfort you feel when researching such a topic at 5 AM. You turn the blinding graphics down, making a sound you can only compare to a car engine failing to start, as the only search results that pop up are for people who have anywhere from 2-4 sets of initials and birthdates. 

Okay, having 4 was probably frightening, too. You couldn’t be too harsh on Google or the human race for not having dealt with your specific situation. 7 soulmates? You’d never even considered the possibility of such a pairing. 

The same questions Elle had the night before race through your mind as you sit in the hotel bed, at 5 AM, in Seoul, alone.

What if they didn’t have your initials on their arms? What if not all of them had your initials on their arms? What if they were going to make you choose between them?

You felt sick. Sick to your stomach. Not wanting to soil the expensive bed sheets in your room, you rush to the connected bathroom, kneeling pitifully in front of the toilet and emptying your stomach into the porcelain bowl and water below. 

You rest against the cool tile of the floor once the heaving has stopped, hair sticking to your forehead, and your head aching. You reach lamely for a courtesy bathrobe that’s tied to the bathroom door, wrapping it around you like a blanket, and use a pile of hand towels as a makeshift pillow, before falling asleep on the bathroom floor. 

“Are you okay?” Elle shakes you awake, her blond hair pulled into a ponytail, and eyes wide and worried as she looks at you.

“M’fine.” You grumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Just had a bad dream.” 

“So you fell asleep in the bathroom?” She asks you, confused.

“No, I felt sick when I remembered what happened last night…” You breathe out. 

“Ah,” Elle sighs, “yeah, I can’t imagine what’s going through your head right now.” 

“Too much,” you answer her, slowly sitting up. 

“I’ll make you some breakfast!” She chirps. “That gives you time to get ready for the meeting with the boys later!” 

“Shit, I almost forgot about that. Why’d you have to remind me?” You groan, standing up and grabbing your toothbrush. 

“You need to at least talk to them, Y/N. They saved our asses from possible suspension at work and they clearly want to speak to you about the whole… situation.” She mumbles. “Plus, maybe they’ll tell you some stuff we can use in our articles.” 

“Tell me?” You question her, toothpaste spilling out of your mouth and onto your pajamas. “You’re going with me!” 

“Uh, no. I’m not.” Elle shrugs at your shocked expression, “I don’t need to be there, and frankly I shouldn’t be there. They asked to meet with you, they didn’t ask for me by name as well; and there’s some pretty, er, intimate things they might want to ask you.”

“What?!” You choke, the toothbrush falling from between your lips and into the sink. 

“I don’t mean it like that,” she laughs. “Although that’d make for an interesting read.” She jokes, “I mean, they might want to get to know you personally. Me being there would make things incredibly awkward.” 

“Can’t you at least wait for me close by? You could be my savior if I need to get out of there quickly…” You explain, spitting your toothpaste into the sink and rinsing your mouth. 

She looks ready to protest, but you silence her by placing your hand over her mouth. “I brought you on this trip with me, Elle. Not as a coworker, but as a friend. It’d mean more to me than I could possibly begin to explain if you’d be on standby for me while I’m talking to them.” 

She rolls her eyes at you, but nods her head in agreement. “You owe me, big time.” She scoffs, “Now take a shower, and I’ll make you some breakfast.” 

The woman is true to her word. Once you’re out of the shower, smelling fresh, and dressed decently enough (a cream colored sweater and a new pair of jeans you bought before the trip), she places a massive plate of waffles in front of you. 

“Eat.” She orders, sitting next to you at the kitchen bar, and digging into her own plate.

“I’m nervous,” you explain, poking at your food, but taking a large bite when she eyes you. 

“I don’t blame you at all. Just try not to hyperfocus. Their wanting to meet with you and helping us avoid trouble yesterday speaks volumes. They more than likely just want to talk. Nothing extreme.” 

You nod at her reasoning, thankful that she’s there to at least try and keep you level-headed. 

“I’ll be just a few blocks down,” Elle tells you, the Big Hit driver, Shei, had put up the partition in the SUV, allowing the two of you what little privacy you could have.

“Thank you,” you tell her earnestly, meeting her friendly gaze.

“You’ll be fine,” she reassures you, “they’re really nice guys from what I saw last night.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I feel so stupid.” You groan, curling in on yourself in embarrassment. 

“So you don’t want to hear about how worried they were when you split?” She asks you. You peek through the sleeve of your hoodie, interest rising. “Ah, looks like I’ll have to explain later.” She smiles, “We’re here.” 

You drift your gaze out the window, noting the bodyguards and Big Hit employees trying to blend in with the outside world. The restaurant, as previously discussed, has clearly been rented out. Upon seeing the SUV, one of the Big Hit employees, a woman you haven’t met, sends a signal to Shei. He seems to understand immediately and turns into a nearby alleyway. It takes you a moment to realize that you’d be entering through the back of the eatery. 

“I feel like a sack of drug paraphernalia.” You mope, getting unbuckled and ready to squirm your way out of your seat. You turn to Elle, nerves bubbling. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m done here.” You tell her, meaning every word. 

“Sure, sure. Just get in there before a fan sees you and bombards you.” She laughs, nudging you out of the door that Shei has opened for you. 

“Thanks,” you mumble to him, allowing another employee to lead you through the back door. The restaurant itself smells absolutely amazing, you couldn’t even begin to fathom how amazing the food would taste once it touches your taste buds. A few kitchen workers bow to you, and you return the kind gesture, feeling extremely out of place in the pristine kitchen. 

Soon enough, tile floors turn to wooden panels, and you look up to meet some of the eyes you’d run from the night before. Namjoon’s gaze is gentle on you, Jin’s is approving, taking in your figure as you stand before him. Taehyung and Jungkook are too busy playing some sort of napkin game they’ve created to acknowledge your entrance. Hoseok waves enthusiastically, a massive grin split across his bright face. 

Jimin, beautiful as ever, smiles his eye-crinkling smile that has your stomach doing cartwheels within the confines of your body. Yoongi’s eyes are serious on yours, hands fidgeting atop the table they sit at; his hair is hidden beneath a beanie that makes him look more boyish than he did yesterday. 

“Er- hi.” You say awkwardly, waving slightly at the men once you stand in front of their table. 

“Ah!” Jungkook jumps, dropping the napkin-ball once your voice hits his ears. 

“Ha!” Taehyung whoops, jumping in his seat excitedly, “you lost, Kookie!” 

“Can’t you two be normal for once?” Jin asks, shaking his head disapprovingly, but affectionately, at the two youngest members. 

“That’s a ridiculous request, hyung.” Jimin smiles, nudging Jungkook lightly. “Besides, weren’t you playing table football with Kookie and V last week?” 

Jin blushes a rosy red, clearly embarrassed he’d been outed. 

“It’s okay,” you rush to reassure him, not quite understanding your sudden need to alleviate his discomfort, “I still play Nintendogs on my DS.” 

Jin raises his eyebrows at you, along with most of the members, save for Yoongi, who still looks at you with a nervous expression. 

“Isn’t that the game where you can have a Shiba?” Taehyung smiles, “I’ve always wanted one.” 

“That’s the one,” you reply, feeling your own embarrassment flare up as the ridiculously attractive men all keep their gazes on you.

“My friends in school would play those games all of the time,” Jimin smiles, pulling a chair at the head of the table out for you before returning to his seat. “Do you like to play games, Y/N?” He smiles a toothy smile, and if you weren’t a reporter whose life consisted of reading subliminal messages, you wouldn’t have caught the sensual innuendo beyond the question.

“Jimin-ah, let’s not talk about games right now,” Yoongi speaks up, flickering his impassive glance from you, to Jimin, to you again. 

“Yoongi is right,” Namjoon nods. “We were worried last night that you wouldn’t show up.” He explains as you take your seat, keeping your hands in your lap so you don’t fidget too much or too obviously. “Some of us were worried we’d scared you off before we’d even had the chance to properly introduce ourselves. It’s safe to say we’re relieved you’re here.” 

You smile, somewhat consoled, knowing that they’d been nervous, too.

“Is there anything you’d like to eat?” Jin asks, “We’ve ordered 8 servings of rice and vegetable stir-fry already. The chef said it’d be a half hour or so.” 

“Rice and stir-fry sounds great,” you answer him, “could I get a cup of water?” You ask, your throat feeling dry from your ebbing nerves. 

Jin nods his head and goes to retrieve a pitcher of water and some glasses from the kitchen. He pours your drink gingerly, long fingers holding the pitcher with exceptional care.

“From your exit during the interview, we’re assuming you know why we invited you?” Namjoon asks, eyes kindly analyzing your posture.

“I, uh- yeah. I assume it’s about this…” You lift your left hand atop the table and push back the cream-colored fabric, revealing the numbers and letters that haunted you your entire life.

Two of the three maknaes smile once they eye the black ink on your wrist. Taehyung and Jimin looked to be far more comfortable in the situation than Jungkook, who still resembled a deer caught in the headlights. 

Hoseok makes a noise similar to a pelican, rounding the table and showing you his wrist. The letters and numbers are all the same as yours, save for one. Where you had his initials and birthdate, he had yours. 

“Show her,” Hoseok chastises his team, waiting for them all to mimic his actions. 

They do. You’re shocked as you realize with finality that you had 7 soulmates, and so did they. 

Whereas most people had another half, or third, and rarely a fourth, of their soul waiting for them inside someone else, you and the seven men in front of you had each other.

“I can’t believe we’re finally meeting you,” Taehyung smiles, hugging you to him. 

“Taehyung-ah, give her a minute.” Jin orders. 

You’re thankful he does. You weren’t disappointed in the men huddled around your dining chair, far from it, in fact. You did, however, feel the room closing in on you. 

“I just need a second…” You explain, rising to your feet, “Excuse me.” You bow to them, excusing yourself to the bathroom. 

Hardly recognizing the pale woman who stares back at you in the mirror, you douse your face with cold water from the sink, appreciating the relief it provides your heated and muted skin. You give yourself a while, not wanting to overexert your emotions and head back into the room quite yet. 

The air is cooler in the bathroom, anyway, and easier for you to breathe. You pull your phone from your back pocket, ready to text Elle and ask her to pick you up, but you glance at yourself in the mirror again, seeing the way that color is returning to your face and your breathing has regulated itself. You could do this.

Shoving your phone back in the confines of your jeans, you push the bathroom door open. The boys wait for you at the table, all of them quiet and anticipating your return. Taehyung catches your eye, his expression regretful and dejected. 

“I’m sorry I hugged you like that,” he tells you, voice radiating his honesty like a heater, “I just got so excited to finally know that you were real.” He explains, “The thought of you being uncomfortable didn’t occur to me. I’m so used to having the hyungs around, and being able to express everything that I forgot you didn’t have any of us to express yourself to growing up.” 

“It’s okay, Taehyung,” you tell him, meaning the words from the bottom of your heart. “I just get very anxious when new things blindside me.” 

He smiles at your acceptance of his apology, boxy features warming your heart. 

“So, how long have you all known about this?” You ask, pointing to your wrist.

“Since we banded together,” Namjoon answers. “It’s actually one of the main reasons we decided to debut.” He shrugs, “When I met Yoongi-hyung at a BigHit meeting and he saw my wrist, it was like I wasn’t alone anymore.” 

Yoongi smiles a gummy smile, looking at Namjoon. “I felt the same way,” he agrees, “growing up was difficult. I was ashamed of my marks and hid them. I thought they meant I’d never have a successful relationship. But when I saw Joon at the meeting, and he had his sleeves rolled up without a care to give… I just saw my initials and the rest we share, and I didn’t feel empty anymore. There was someone I could connect to.” 

“And then Hoseok showed up, loud and energetic,” Namjoon laughs. The man in question smiles, blush creeping its way onto his face. “We were both shocked,” he signals to Yoongi. “The chances of us meeting each other were slim enough, but a third showing up? It was crazy.” 

“You guys would have been lost without me,” Hoseok groans, “you’re both so messy.” 

Yoongi rolls his eyes, and Namjoon laughs. “Once Jin signed on, we kind of just let the rest play out. Figured that if luck stayed on our side, we wouldn’t need to look for ourselves.” Namjoon explains. “It was pretty smooth sailing for a while. Jungkook signed on, and then V. Jimin was last.” Jimin smiles at the mention of his name. “We only had one more person to wait for.” 

“After ‘Wings’ was released, we kind of lost hope,” Jin adds. “We thought maybe you weren’t real. We’d met people with your initials, but when we asked when their birthdays were, we got nothing.” 

You nod your head, “I grew up in Washington, went to college in California, and then moved to New York for work.” You tell them, grateful that they provide you with their undivided attention. “You know where I work, so there’s no need to explain that. There’s actually not much to explain, really. I move around a lot for reporting gigs, so I don’t have time for friends and stuff.” 

They look saddened by that, and your heart pangs in response. “It’s okay,” you reassure, “my life has been full of amazing experiences and opportunities because of my work.” 

“It sounds like it’s held you back, too…” Jungkook says, voice heavy with concern. 

“Only socially.” You reply, “I have a decent home and enough money to keep me going.” 

“Have you dated?” Jimin asks.

“Jimin-ah!” Jin scolds him, flicking his forehead. 

“It’s okay!” You tell him, “It’s a fair question. I haven’t seriously dated anyone. I’ve casually dated, though.” You explain. “Once it turns towards serious conversations and ‘what are we’s,’ I book it.” 

Jimin thinks over your answer, enamored by the casual way you gave it. 

“If we had known, we would have reached out,” Namjoon confesses, turning the conversation back towards the elephant in the room.

“If anything, I’m to blame,” you laugh. “You guys are globally famous, your names are everywhere, so are your birth dates. If I had paid more attention, we might have met sooner…” You trail off.

“Don’t blame yourself!” Hoseok consoles you, eyes unwavering as they convey his sincerity to you. “We’re meeting each other now, and that’s good enough for us.” 

You smile at his reassurance, appreciating how wholesome and bright he truly is with finality. 

“Thank you, Hoseok.” You tell him gently. 

He nearly transforms into the heart-eye emoji at you saying his name, his features softening immensely and leaving a dopey grin on his face. Jimin pats Hoseok’s shoulder, shining his crinkly-eyed smile at the older man.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Yoongi asks, big brown eyes looking at yours with concern, the first discernible emotion you’ve seen on him since entering the room. It nearly knocks the wind out of you. The softness of his face mixed with the molten emotion beyond his eyes renders you wordless. 

“Erm-” you gape. “I, uh- I’m definitely still shocked, but I feel more at ease now,” you manage to push the words out of your mouth. “It’s way more comforting knowing that I’m not just a glitch in the system.” 

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“I always thought that I was meant to be alone,” you shrug. 

“But you have the mark,” he cocks his head, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“Yeah, but I’ve never seen someone with my extent of it.” You explain, “typically people have one or two initials and birth dates on their wrist. I have seven. I figured that maybe I was just a reject.” 

He looks saddened by your explanation, “Well, you’re not.” 

“Yeah, Y/N! You’re not alone.” Jimin smiles. 

“You have us,” Taehyung adds, putting an arm around Jimin and Jungkook each.

“I also live in America,” you remind them, sipping at the water Jin had poured you earlier. “I can’t just leave my job and my home to come to Korea.” 

“Would you ever be open to the idea?” Namjoon asks.

You sit on the question for a minute, deliberating in your mind the pros and cons. The cons were intimidating. You would have to leave the job you worked so hard for, you’d leave behind your family, you’d leave behind Elle, and you’d be starting all over on a new continent. The pros, however… You could rebuild, make a new family because you weren’t around your biological family much anyway, you could still visit Elle and FaceTime her every day…

But you were getting ahead of yourself.

“I might consider it some day,” you answer Namjoon, noting the relief that fills every single member’s eyes. “But that’d be down the road a ways,” you add, “it’s not something I could just do at the drop of a hat.” 

The men nod, understanding and appreciating your answer. You don’t bother asking them the same, you know their love for their country and the people in it. It was visceral, unwavering, and stronger than any fan-artist connection you’d seen, ever. It’d be selfish to ask them to leave their livelihoods. They could still make music in America, but the emotions behind the music? The reason for making it? The heart of BTS would always remain in Korea. 

“We have another question to ask,” Jimin speaks up. You look at him and nod, giving him the go-ahead. “Well, you see, we were wondering if any of the initials on your wrist look different to you? Like maybe one seems thicker or darker?” He asks.

You furrow your brows, confused, but raise your left sleeve again and really look at the bold lettering. The food arrives as you examine your wrist, the waiter delicately placing your meal on the table in front of you.

Sure enough, a lettered pairing does stick out from the rest. You’re at a complete loss as to why you hadn’t noticed it before. You’d spent hours upon hours of your life glaring at the ink. How were you only just realizing the imperfection permanently etched atop your skin now that Jimin mentioned it? 

“Yeah…” You breathe out, looking at Jimin's waiting gaze. “I’ve never noticed it before.” 

“It’s pretty microscopic,” Namjoon explains. “It’s only really noticeable once someone addresses it.”

“That’s strange…” You murmur, looking back at your wrist. The letters only seem to have grown bolder, nearly looking italicised now that more time has passed. “It looks more bold now…” You explain, meeting the eyes of the man the bulkier text belongs to. 

He looks back at you, eyes softening as they look into yours. 

“Are mine thicker for you?” You ask him. 

“They are.” He replies. 

“What does it mean?” You ask Namjoon. 

“Well, we hunted down a woman in Daegu, she calls herself a ‘reader.’ She was pretty difficult to find, but Big Hit helped us. She specializes in the marks, has books upon books on them. She told us that there have only been a handful of cases like ours,” he tells you, “and that the bold initials are present every time. She said that the bold initials signify the strongest bond within the soulmates. For me, my strongest bond is with Hoseok.” He looks to the cheery man beside him. “As his is mine.” 

“What does that mean for you and the others?” You ask him, taking a bite of your stir-fry. 

“We’re all still soulmates,” he answers. “Nothing will ever change that. Hoseok and I just connected on a deeper level. It doesn’t mean we’re more intimate with each other, it doesn’t even mean we love each other more than we love any of you,” he motions towards everyone at the table. “It just means we’re closest with each other on a spiritual level. He’s like my twin flame. I think that’s what Americans call it sometimes.” 

You’re not unfamiliar with the terminology, but you never considered it true. You thought it was just an excuse for people to seek other relationships when they had a soulmate, or an excuse for some soulmates to be excessively smitten with each other. 

“Do you all have twin flames?” You ask the remaining members. They all nod. 

“Mine is Kookie,” Tae smiles. 

“And mine is V,” Jungkook replies. 

“Mine is Jimin,” Jin tells you. Jimin nods, “and mine is Jin,” he adds. 

“And you’re mine,” Yoongi tells you, eyes still soft and warm on yours. You flush under his direct gaze, turning into a melting pot of emotions. 

“How long have my initials been bold?” You ask him, voice wavering from the force of emotion that’s threatening to crack you open. 

“Since our debut,” he replies, taking a drink of his water. Full lips pressing against the fogged glass of the cup sinfully. He takes your ogling as a mere loss for words, “you’re here now, though. That’s all that matters.” 

You snap out of your reverie and realize that had you not been smitten by the way he drank his water, you most definitely would have been apologizing for taking so long to show up. 

“Even so, I’m still sorry for taking years to find you guys.” You tell them all, tearing your gaze from Yoongi’s soul-stirring one to address the rest of the members, your soulmates. “I do have a question, and I don’t want it to come off as rude.” 

“I’m sure it won’t,” Namjoon reassures you.

“Well, I was just wondering why you guys hide your marks? Elle said you guys cover them for interviews and public outings.” 

“We do,” he answers, “we didn’t want to go public with anything unless we had to, at least, not until you were here. We didn’t want to make any decisions unless we all had a say in them, especially given our careers.” 

You nod thoughtfully, appreciating his answer and the meaning behind it.

“That’s thoughtful of you all,” you say, smiling as you look to each of them. “Thank you.” 

They smile back. 

“If you guys want to go public with it, I’m fine with that. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” You explain.

“Are you sure?” Jungkook asks, eyes and voice full of concern.

“We could cover your initials for now,” Jin suggests, “you are the youngest of us, so it wouldn’t be a hassle. And we could uncover it once everything’s more secure? For instance, if you move here?” 

You run over the option in your head, seeing no direct harm that could come from doing so. 

“That might be a better option,” you agree, “would that make you uncomfortable, Yoongi?” You ask him, concerned that it might cause your twin flame even an ounce of discomfort. 

“No,” he answers, and you can tell from the look in his eyes that he means it. “As long as you’re safe and happy, we’re fine with doing whatever we need to.” 

You melt at his words, finding immense comfort in them. It’d only been an hour of you being with them, and you’re already feeling an immense relief. Was this what it felt like to be around your soulmates? Was this what you’d been missing out on? 

You couldn’t even begin to fathom the difficulty Elle and Cam had when they were around each other. BTS had been in your company for not even a day, and you could already feel a gravitational pull towards them, anchoring you to them in a way that left you feeling complete. 

“Thank you,” you tell Yoongi, grinning at the flush that spreads across his full cheeks at your praise. “Thank you, all.” You tell the rest of them, your appreciation seeping through your very pores. “I can’t begin to express to you how much it means to me knowing you all support me so much already.” 

They smile at you, taken by your words. You can feel the mood in the room lift substantially, and you thank the heavens above for allowing this brunch to go so much better than originally planned. 

The rest of the food is devoured quickly by the eight of you, and it feels like all of 10 minutes have passed before the food is gone, and Elle is calling you nonstop. You reluctantly tell them you have to go, heart aching at the drop in their expressions at your announcement. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow! At the show!” You tell them, texting Elle to have Shei come get you. Their expressions brighten slightly, but you can still see that they don’t want you to go.

“How about this? I’ll give you guys my personal number, and we can start a group chat. Plan some hangouts and see where that takes us?” 

They nod enthusiastically, pulling their phones out and quickly inputting your information into their contact lists. You can feel your phone vibrating in your back pocket at least 10 times as you say your goodbyes and thanks. 

You bow to them, following the waiter out of the restaurant through the kitchen and into the back alleyway. Elle and Shei are waiting in the SUV, and Elle pounces on you as soon as you step foot into the large vehicle. 

“You are telling me everything when we get back to the hotel.” She orders, you’re about to object, but she covers your mouth with her hand, “Nope. That’s my payment for not getting a single update from you in two and a half hours.” 

You roll your eyes and mumble a ‘whatever,’ but her hand blocks out any sense you might have made. She laughs at you, finally pulling her hand away. 

“Did you have a good time at least?” She asks.

“It actually went really well.” You answer, blush rising. You turn towards your window, watching the scenery pass by, when you receive another text. 

You pull out your phone, unlocking the screen and entering your texting app. 

8 unread conversations greet your eyes. 7 singular text chains, and one group text. 

The first text you’d received in the restaurant is a simple ‘hi’ that’s signed ‘Jungkook.’ 

The next is longer. 

‘Hello, jagiya! It’s Taehyung!’ A purple heart sits at the end of the sentence. 

‘Worldwide Handsome here, checking in on his beautiful soulmate. Xxx Jin’ The next reads.

‘Y/Nie! It’s Hoseok! Text us when you get to your hotel safely! We had fun today :)’ 

‘Hello, Jagi!!!! Jimin here ;) We miss u already xxx’

‘Hi, Y/N. It’s Namjoon. Make sure to save our numbers so you don’t think we’re strangers texting you all the time. I’ll set up a group chat after I send this. :-)’ 

‘Hey, it’s Yoongi. Your twin flame.’ You smile at that, noting that he’s sent another since then. ‘You obviously know that, please disregard that message… oh, and check the group chat.’

You do as you’re told, and smile at your phone. There are introductions, but what sticks out most to you is the picture of you and Yoongi gazing at each other at the table. Judging by the angle, Jungkook or Taehyung must have taken it. It’s flattering and captures the ambience of the early afternoon. 

You hug your phone to your chest, emotion flowing through you hotly. You reply to the texts and follow Namjoon’s advice and save their numbers. The group chat goes crazy after you reply, Taehyung and Jin spamming it with animated gifs, and Jimin sending a few selfies. 

You don’t miss the pointed glance Elle sends your way as she watches your face dance with happy emotions during the car ride home. 

Typically, you’d snap at her in embarrassment, but the happiness and complete full-feeling you’re experiencing now prevent you from feeling anything short of euphoric.

It's not unpleasant — just a lingering reminder. A hum under your skin, like a bruise you don’t mind touching again and again.

You blink slowly, your eyes gritty from sleep, mouth dry, brain hazy in that half-dream state where everything feels like it could be made up. The heavy comforter is kicked down to your hips, your legs tangled in each other, and for a second — just one — you think maybe it was a dream.

But then you shift, and your thighs protest, and it all comes back.

The couch. His fingers. His mouth. The way he looked at you like he’d already had you a thousand times in his head. The things he said — low, teasing, mean. The things you said back. Your stomach tightens, breath hitching as your body tries to replay it too fast, too much.

You squeeze your eyes shut and will your brain to shut up.

You don’t usually let people sleep over. Not like this. Not in your bed, under your sheets, in your space.

But Jungkook’s always been the exception to things. It’s not new, waking up with him in your apartment. He’s been here for movie nights that turned into sleepovers, for hangovers that turned into late mornings, for heartbreaks that turned into shared pints of ice cream and shit talk.

You’ve seen him in your space more times than you can count. But never like this.

You breathe in slow and exhale even slower, eyes fluttering open. The room is still, the air thick with the kind of silence that begs to be broken but doesn’t quite want to be. You shift again, turning onto your side, and your eyes land on the shape beside you.

He’s lying on his stomach, one arm thrown across your pillow, the other tucked under his chest. The blanket’s halfway down his back, exposing the mess of tattoos curling across his shoulder and the dip of his spine. His hair’s a wreck — pushed off his forehead, flattened in the back — and his lips are parted, soft. He looks young like this. Calm. A little too good for your peace of mind.

You stare at him a moment too long.

And then you very, very carefully roll onto your back again.

You feel like you’re in a minefield. Like one wrong move will detonate something you're not ready to name.

You slept with your best friend.

Not just slept. Fucked.

Fucked him like you meant it. Like you’ve wanted to for longer than you’re willing to admit, even to yourself.

You exhale again. A sharp, quiet puff of air through your nose. Maybe if you stay still long enough, he’ll just keep sleeping. And you can sneak to the bathroom. Or back in time. Whichever’s easier.

You’re not panicking. Not technically. You’re just… thinking. Overthinking. Remembering how you sounded begging him not to stop. Remembering how he looked at you like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted. Remembering how, when it was over, he held you like it meant something.

You feel his warmth next to you, steady and real. His leg brushes yours, his knee nudging slightly against your calf, and your whole body goes still again.

You wonder what he's going to say when he wakes up; if he'll still smile at you like he did last night — like nothing about this is complicated. Like your world didn’t tilt just a little off its axis the second he kissed you back, like he wasn't allowed to and never planned on stopping.

You should feel weird. You should feel guilty. Or ashamed. Or something more than this weird, electric calm.

But mostly, you just feel like you don’t want to move.

His breathing shifts — subtle, but enough that you know he’s starting to wake up.

Your heart trips a little.

He shifts, and the arm he’d slung over your pillow curls slightly in, fingers brushing the back of your hand. He lets out a groggy hum, the noise half in his throat.

You freeze, eyes still closed.

“Mm,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

You swallow. Your voice doesn’t come right away, caught somewhere behind your tongue. When it does, it’s soft, a rasp. “No idea.”

He exhales. Shuffles a little closer. You can feel the heat of him now, bleeding through the sliver of space that still separates you. A moment passes. Then another. You brace for it — for the tension, the shift, the stammered joke to smooth over the jagged memory of last night.

But all he says is, “Damn. My back hurts.”

You blink, startled by the normalcy of it. “You’re not supposed to sleep like that. You looked like a crime scene victim.”

“Sexy,” he mutters, eyes still closed. “That’s what I was going for.”

You huff a quiet laugh. And weirdly, the knot in your stomach loosens just a little.

Another silence stretches. But it’s not bad. Not heavy. He makes a small sound as he shifts again, propping himself up just slightly on one elbow. You don’t look at him, not yet, but you can feel his eyes on you.

“How do you feel?”

You hesitate.

He waits.

You turn your head slowly toward him, and finally meet his gaze. His hair’s a mess, his eyes still sleep-warm, but there’s something sharper under the surface. Not regret. Not even nerves. Just… attention. He’s watching you the way he did last night — carefully. Like you matter.

You chew your lip for a second. "Sore," you eventually say, voice quiet.

He smiles. “Good sore or bad sore?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You want a Yelp review?”

He shrugs, still smiling. “I mean, if you’re offering. I’d love a star rating.”

You stare at him for another second. Then you snort, burying your face in the pillow. “You’re such a dick.”

“You didn’t mind last night.”

You groan, muffled. “Please don't. It's too early for this.”

He laughs — really laughs — and you feel it wash over you like a warm breeze. He’s not weird about it. Not cagey or distant. And maybe it’s a little disarming how himself he still is. Like nothing’s changed.

Like everything has, but it’s fine.

He shifts again, flops onto his back beside you with a loud sigh and an arm flung dramatically over his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungover and this smug at the same time. It’s honestly kind of impressive.”

You glance at him, lips twitching. “Your ego’s going to explode.”

He peeks at you from under his arm. “Can you blame me? I mean, damn.”

You roll your eyes and toss a corner of the blanket over his face.

But your heart’s still racing.

You don’t know what you were expecting — some awkward shuffle out of bed, a strained goodbye, maybe even him pretending it hadn’t happened. But he’s still here. In your bed. In your space. Making you laugh.

Just like always.

Your fingers brush against his under the covers. Neither of you pull away.

You stare at the ceiling for a moment, letting yourself breathe. Letting the silence settle between you again. It feels different now, not loud with questions or demanding anything from you.

It feels like… him.

And maybe you’re not ready to ask what it means yet.

But for now?

This doesn’t feel like a mistake. Not even a little.

You’re standing outside your office building, arms crossed and scowling.

The sidewalk’s sticky with the leftover heat of the day, and there’s a cluster of your co-workers behind you laughing about something you’re not a part of. Their voices blur into the honks and hum of Friday traffic, and all you can focus on is the time.

Jungkook is two minutes late.

You know how stupid it is — two minutes. But today, even two seconds of anything feels like too much.

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, the back of your neck damp with sweat, the strap of your bag digging into your shoulder in just the wrong way. Your phone sits heavy in your palm. No new messages. No “almost there.” No “sorry, traffic’s ass.”

Nothing.

The week has wrung you out like a wet towel. Every day, some new tiny disaster: deadlines moving without warning, your boss micromanaging you like you’re an intern again, and a meeting yesterday where a client talked over you so many times you wanted to crawl under the table and scream.

You’ve barely slept. Your eyes are scratchy. You snapped at someone in the break room this morning because they made a passive-aggressive joke about your “resting bitch face.” And now, Jungkook is late. On your day. Friday. The one consistent thing in your life.

Every Friday, he picks you up from work.

It started almost a year ago, after a breakup left you crying into your salad at your desk. When Jungkook had texted you to come down that day, you'd expected takeout and tissues. But instead, he’d cranked up the music in his car and driven you to a late-night ramen spot where you ended up laughing so hard you nearly choked on your noodles.

It became tradition. No matter what kind of week you’d had, no matter what mood either of you were in — Friday nights belonged to you two. You didn’t even have to plan anything. Sometimes it was tacos in the car and talking shit about your co-workers. Sometimes it was video games at his place or walking around the city until your legs ached and your cheeks hurt from laughing.

He always showed up. Early, even.

But today, the sun is setting in your eyes, and he’s late.

You tap your foot. Then stop, because that’s annoying. Then sigh loud enough to get a look from a passing stranger.

You grip your phone tighter, squinting down the street. Still no sign of his car. Your thumb hovers over the call button.

Three minutes late now.

Your stomach twists — not from worry, but frustration. Because this — this quiet, unnecessary delay — is the cherry on top of the shit sundae that has been your entire week. And you hate that it’s him. That even Jungkook gets to be a part of the unravelling now.

You lean against the metal pole of the bus sign, letting it bite into your spine. A bead of sweat slips down your back. The sun is way too bright for this hour.

Your phone buzzes.

Finally.

You snatch it up like you’ve been waiting for a lifeline, and there it is:

Kook 🍜: here in a min

You glare at the screen. Then type:

You: You’re late.

Kook 🍜: exactly 3 min. that’s barely anything

You: You’re lucky I’m too exhausted to castrate you.

Kook 🍜: bet you'll still get in the car

You don’t respond.

You just shove your phone back in your bag and take a breath that doesn’t do anything to help.

Jungkook’s car pulls up slow, music low, window already halfway down. He’s in that stupid black bucket hat he always wears, curls pushed out from under the brim. You catch the grin he’s wearing before he even says anything — wide, lazy, like he’s proud just to have found parking.

He leans over and calls out through the window, “Damn. Which poor intern did you kill today?”

You glare at him.

His smile falters a little, but he keeps going, still trying to crack you open like usual. “I mean, you’re kinda glowing with hate. It’s kinda hot. Very—”

“Jungkook,” you cut in, sharp.

His eyes snap up to yours.

You immediately hate how sharp your voice came out. You look away, fingers curling around the strap of your bag.

“Sorry,” you mutter after a beat. “I just… I’ve had a fucking awful week, and I’m really not in the mood for jokes right now.”

There’s a pause. Just the hum of the engine and a soft beat coming from the speakers — some song with a lazy bassline and breathy vocals.

Then he shifts. You hear the click of the lock before he leans over to push the door open for you. “Get in.”

You do. Without arguing.

The cool air hits your face the second the door closes, and you let your head lean back against the seat. He doesn’t say anything right away. Just starts driving, hands loose on the wheel, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth like he’s thinking.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asks eventually, softer this time.

You shake your head. “Not really. Just one of those weeks where everything goes to shit in slow motion. Work, people, the world. My brain. I think I hate everyone.”

He hums. “Cool. We can start a club.”

You huff a laugh, just barely. But it’s something.

He glances at you sideways, like he’s measuring how far he can push. “So when do I get to punch your boss?”

“I’m serious, Kook.”

“I'm serious too! I’ve been doing push-ups.”

You snort, against your will. “You do three push-ups and call it training.”

“First of all, way more than three. Second, the form was perfect. Don’t disrespect me in my own car.”

You smile — tiny, fleeting — but it’s the first time today you’ve felt even remotely human.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you murmur after a second. “Even if you were late.”

“Exactly three minutes,” he says, defensive. “And I was texting you while driving, which is dedication. Illegal, but dedication.”

You glance over at him. He’s wearing his usual all-black like he’s trying to look tough, but the corners of his mouth are soft. His grip on the wheel is loose. Familiar. Like this is just another Friday, like nothing’s changed since last week.

But something has. You feel it.

You clear your throat. “Can we just go back to mine? I kind of want to curl into a blanket and pretend I don’t exist.”

“Nope,” he says instantly.

You blink. “What?”

“I have a plan.”

“A plan?”

“Yep.”

“What kind of plan?”

He just grins, eyes still on the road. “You’ll see.”

You narrow your eyes. “I swear to god, if this ends with me getting roped into karaoke—”

“No karaoke,” he says with a laugh, holding up one hand solemnly. “I promise. You’ve suffered enough.”

You sigh and let your head fall against the window. The glass is cool against your temple, and you let your eyes slip closed for a second. “I’m serious though, Kook. I really don’t think I have the energy to be around people right now.”

“No people,” he assures you. “Just us. Little detour. Nothing dramatic.”

You peek one eye open at him. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m being nice.”

“That’s what’s weird.”

He smirks. “Okay, that’s fair.”

You fall quiet again. The road noise fills the silence, the gentle whir of tires and the low pulse of the bass. It’s soothing in a way, the way riding with him always is.

Your fingers drift to your lap, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. He doesn’t ask again about your week. He just drives, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually near the gearshift, fingers tapping to the beat of the music.

You glance at him again.

He looks good when he’s focused but relaxed. The way he hums along to the music without realising. The way the light paints the side of his face gold as it streams through the windshield. You feel it crawl up your chest: that annoying, warm pressure. That thing you haven’t named yet.

That thing you’re starting to feel more often when he’s near you.

And it’s so stupid. So inconvenient.

You stare out the window, try to shake it off.

He turns down a street you don’t recognise.

“Seriously,” you say, finally. “Where are we going?”

He just grins again, eyes still forward.

“You’ll see.”

You’re parked at the top of a hill you didn’t know existed.

Below you, the city stretches out — tiny glints of light catching on glass and metal, and cars threading through the streets like slow-moving ants. It’s not some tourist lookout spot. There’s no crowds, no fences or coin-operated telescopes. Just a dusty turnout on the side of a winding road and a view that makes you feel like the world finally shut up for a minute.

It’s quiet up here. Real quiet. Even the music in the car has been turned down to a soft background hum — just instrumental now.

You’ve got a milkshake in your hands, condensation slipping down the side and catching on your fingers. It’s thick and rich, the kind that takes actual effort to sip through a straw. The sweetness coats your tongue, dulls the bitter edge that’s been living in your chest all week. In your lap is the discarded wrapping of a burger so good you had to ask where the hell it came from.

“I’ve literally never heard of this place,” you say around a mouthful of fries. “Is this one of those ‘secret menu, don’t tell anyone or they’ll kill you’ joints?”

Jungkook grins around his own bite, sauce already on the corner of his mouth. “Maybe. The guy who owns it doesn’t even do social media. Total off-the-grid.”

You nod like that explains the magic burger. “They probably sold their soul to the devil for the recipes or something.”

He laughs, mouth full, and leans over to wipe the sauce off with the back of his hand. “You okay now?”

You pause.

The question isn’t heavy. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it — just stares out at the view like he’s asking casually. But you hear the real version underneath. You always hear it with him.

You take a slow sip of your milkshake before answering.

“Yeah,” you say. “I think I am.”

And for once, it’s not a lie. Your body still feels wrung out, your muscles sore from being tense for too many days in a row, but something about this — about being here, with him, with real food and fake silence and a breeze that smells like clean air and french fries settles something in you.

You glance over. He’s sitting back against the driver’s side door, one knee propped up. His hat’s on the floor somewhere — he'd thrown it off after complaining about the heat — and the curve of his neck is exposed just enough to distract you when you look too long.

Which you are. Looking too long, again.

“So,” you say, casually. “How many women have you brought up here to seduce with mystery burgers and pretty views?”

He snorts. “You’re the first. Most of my dates prefer the classic ‘come over and watch a movie, but don’t actually watch the movie’ route.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Wow. Such effort.”

“Right? I’m kind of romantic like that.”

You toss a fry at him. It bounces off his chest and lands in his tray.

He doesn’t flinch. Just picks it up and eats it. “Thanks.”

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the smile that tugs on your lips.

The air settles into a rhythm again. You chew slowly, the kind of silence between you that doesn’t need filling. It's never been hard, being around him. Even now — after everything — you find yourself slipping back into the easy groove of just existing next to him.

Your phone buzzes in your bag, but you don’t reach for it. You don’t even want to know.

You glance over at him again.

He’s still working on his burger, brows furrowed like he’s trying to solve it. Like he’s mad at how good it tastes.

It should be funny.

It is funny. But your heart stutters instead.

You don’t laugh. You just watch.

The way his lips press together before each bite. The little crease between his eyebrows. His jaw, flexing with each chew. The thick column of his throat when he swallows.

You’ve seen him eat a thousand things in a thousand places. Messy tacos. Gas station snacks. Instant noodles straight from the pot. But somehow, this moment feels different.

Or maybe you do.

Something in you has been tilting all week.

You’ve been tired, angry, brittle with exhaustion. But under it — every time he texts you, looks at you, shows up — there’s something else rising. Warm and low.

You’re not sure when being around him stopped feeling simple.

Maybe it was that night. Maybe it’s been creeping in longer. But it’s louder now. Clearer. It fills your throat and sits behind your ribs and presses up against the edges of your self-control.

He licks ketchup from his thumb.

And you can’t stop staring at his mouth.

He glances up and catches you looking, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

You blink. Swallow. Try to think of something else, anything else, but your body’s already too aware. Too wired.

“Would you hate me if I did something?” you ask, voice low.

His head tilts. “What kind of something?”

“Would you?” you repeat, ignoring his question.

He puts his empty milkshake cup and spare tissues into the paper bag you got the food in, then puts it on to the dashboard of the car before meeting your gaze again.

“You know I could never hate you,” he says, voice casual.

Your pulse stutters.

And before you can talk yourself out of it, your fingers fist in the front of his shirt and you’re moving across your seat, crashing your mouth into his.

It’s not sweet or delicate.

You kiss him like you’ve been holding it back for weeks. Like you’ve hit your limit and there’s nowhere else for the feeling to go. Your teeth scrape his lip. Your noses bump.

He makes a startled sound, hands finding your waist instinctively. You pull back a bit, heart hammering in your chest, and for a beat, neither of you move. He just stares at you — wide-eyed, lips parted — like he’s trying to memorise this exact second.

His mouth opens and closes for a second before his lips are on yours again, chasing your mouth like he needs you to breathe.

Fuck. You weren't actually expecting him to reciprocate.

Then again, you hadn't been thinking at all.

"This is a horrible idea," you mumble.

Jungkook smiles into the kiss. "Mhm. Terrible."

But neither of you stop. You're not sure you could even if you tried. Jungkook's an addicting man, especially when he's kissing you like this.

You grunt into his mouth when your knee hits the centre console, frustrated — not at him, not at this, but at the fucking layout of his stupid car.

You pull back just far enough to say, breathless, “This car is the worst possible place for this.”

He’s panting a little, lips flushed. “You’re the one who launched yourself at me.”

You roll your eyes, shifting your position to try and get comfortable, but your impatience only grows with every second that your lips aren't on his.

“Fuck,” you mutter, pushing your hair out of your face. “This is so—”

“Hot,” Jungkook cuts in, his hand sliding under your shirt to palm your waist. His touch is warm. Steady. “It’s hot.”

You pause. Look at him.

His gaze is on your mouth again and his hand flexes against your skin like he’s trying to stay in control. But you see it — how much effort it’s taking.

And that…

Yeah, that does something to you.

With the help of his hands, your weight sinks down into his lap, both knees straddling his thighs.

The position isn’t comfortable — your head almost knocks the ceiling — but it’s better than before. Your mouths press together again, desperate.

Your tongue slides against his, your teeth catch on his bottom lip, and he pulls you tighter like you might disappear if he lets go.

One of his hands snakes up your back, under your shirt, fingers splaying across your spine like he wants to map it. You grind down against him, slow and deliberate, and his breath stutters.

“Fuck,” he mutters into your mouth. “Do that again.”

You do.

He tilts his head and deepens the kiss, like he’s trying to taste everything you’ve never said out loud. You lose your balance for a second, your body leaning into him, your chest flush with his. His hand slips up to your jaw, thumb brushing along your cheekbone.

You roll your hips again, slower this time, and he breaks the kiss with a gasp, resting his forehead against yours.

“Shit,” he says, voice wrecked. “We can’t do this here.”

“Why not?” you murmur, mouth still grazing his.

He laughs — short, breathless. “Because I’m gonna break the gearshift with my dick if we keep going.”

You laugh too, the sound getting lost between the kisses you press to his jaw, his neck, the line of his throat.

His fingers dig into your waist. “You’re evil.”

You bite his earlobe gently. “You like it.”

He groans, the sound full and needy, and his hands are on your ass, dragging you harder into him, his hips rolling up to meet yours.

You both freeze at the contact.

Your breath catches. His does too.

You pull back to look at him. His eyes are blown wide. His lips are red. His chest rises and falls like he’s run a mile.

His mouth breaks from yours, breath ragged, lips swollen.

“Backseat,” he says, voice a little raspy.

You blink, still breathless. “What?”

He grabs your waist again, eyes dark with lust pooling in his pupils. “Backseat. Now.”

You don’t question him this time.

You clamber into the back with far less grace than you’d like — knees catching on leather, thigh knocking the steering wheel hard enough to make the horn let out a pathetic chirp. Jungkook laughs behind you, but it’s breathless and reverent, the kind of sound that makes you feel seen. Wanted.

You fall into the back seat, legs tangled, heart hammering, your skin hot beneath your clothes. Before you can even fix your hair or adjust your position, he’s climbing in after you.

His body slots over yours, knee between your thighs, hands bracing on either side of your head as he dives back in.

You fist his shirt, tugging him impossibly closer as his mouth breaks from yours and moves lower — along your jaw, down your neck. His lips are soft but relentless, nipping at the skin just below your ear before sucking hard enough to make your hips buck into him.

“Fuck,” you whisper, head falling back. “You’re—god—”

“Still not tired of me?” he murmurs against your throat.

You grip his shoulders, legs falling open to make room for him between them. “Shut up.”

He huffs a laugh against your skin, but he listens. Fingers move to your buttons, surprisingly nimble despite how wrecked he looks. He doesn’t tear anything. Doesn’t rush it. He undoes each one slowly, as if he’s unwrapping a gift he’s been waiting way too long to open.

As each button pops free, his mouth follows — kissing down the newly exposed skin between your breasts, over the curve of your ribs. His hands slide beneath the fabric, pushing it open until your chest is bared, and hooks a finger beneath the centre of your bra, tugging it down and out of the way until you're fully exposed beneath him.

He pulls back to look.

And when he does, he breathes your name.

Low. Like a prayer.

You watch his eyes drag over you, dark and worshipful. One hand cups your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, lazy circles while the other grips your waist, holding you steady as your back arches into him.

He leans down again, tongue flicking over your nipple before his mouth closes around it — sucking just hard enough to make your toes curl. Your fingers fly to his hair, anchoring yourself in him as his teeth graze sensitive skin and his free hand teases the other side, drawing a sharp gasp from your throat.

“Kook—” you breathe, hips shifting beneath him, desperate for friction.

His mouth drags away with a wet sound. “Yeah, baby?”

The pet name sounds dangerous in his voice. Too natural. Like it belongs.

You don’t even call it out. You just say, “Need more.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

He drops one hand between your thighs, pressing it there over your pants with firm, maddening pressure. Just enough to make your breath stutter. His mouth is back on your chest, and his fingers start moving — slow at first, then harder, more purposeful, dragging against the seam of the fabric like he knows exactly how to push you to the edge.

He does.

And you’re already spiralling, body burning under his touch, chest heaving, lips swollen, the back seat of his car too cramped, too humid, too perfectly wrong for what’s happening.

But you’ve never wanted anything more.

Your head drops back against the seat, a soft moan catching in your throat as Jungkook keeps working you over through your pants, his fingers circling you like he has all the time in the world and none of the patience to waste it.

“I swear to god,” you pant, “if you don’t get these off me right now, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

He laughs, still panting himself. His mouth presses hot and open to your neck, teeth grazing skin that’s already buzzing. “Bossy tonight, huh?”

“You started this.”

“And I’m gonna finish it,” he mutters, breath warm against your collarbone.

He shifts down your body and you feel him fumble with the button of your pants, tongue poking at the corner of his mouth in concentration.

“I can do it,” you say, breathless. “You’re slow.”

He blinks up at you, eyebrows raised. “Oh? I’m slow?”

You undo the button in one motion, zipper halfway down, and shoot him a sarcastic smile. “There. Congrats.”

He smiles, wide and wicked, and in the next second, he’s got your pants halfway down your thighs, your panties bunched right after. “Cool. I’ll just use my mouth then.”

That wipes the smugness off your face in an instant.

You freeze.

“Kook— wait, no—”

He pauses, glancing up at you from where he’s knelt between your legs, hair falling into his eyes, hands gripping your thighs with intent. “Did you just try and say no to that?”

“I mean…” You squirm, thighs twitching under his touch. “Last time was already— like, I came. A lot. You don’t have to do the whole… y’know…”

“The whole what?” he asks, voice dangerously innocent. “The part where I make you forget your own name with my tongue?”

You glare at him. “Don’t say it like that.”

He smirks, leaning in until his nose brushes your inner thigh. “Say what? That I’m gonna eat you out until you’re dripping into the seat?”

Your whole body jerks. “Jesus— Kook.”

“That’s not a no.”

He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, slow and warm. Then another. And another. Higher. Closer.

“Didn't get to do it last time,” he murmurs. “And I’ve been thinking about it. All fucking week.”

“You think about this?” you ask, trying for teasing, but your voice wavers as his mouth brushes closer to your core.

“Every night.”

Your breath catches.

“Every time I jerked off, it was to the sound you made when I had my fingers in you. You remember that?” he asks, dragging his mouth up until he’s just hovering over you, warm breath ghosting across your heat.

You nod, because you can’t speak. Your fingers are curled tight into the edge of the seat. Your thighs twitch.

“You remember what you said? ‘Please, don’t stop,’” he mimics, voice low and mocking. “But now you wanna tell me to stop this?”

You open your mouth to fire back some bratty reply — but then he presses a single, firm kiss against your cunt.

Your brain blanks.

Your hips buck.

“Fuck— okay,” you gasp, voice breaking.

He grins like he’s won a bet. “Knew you’d cave.”

Then his mouth is on you.

Hot and slow at first — just one long lick from bottom to top that has your eyes rolling back. His hands pin your thighs apart, anchoring you in place as he buries his face between your legs.

His tongue is obscene. Soft and firm in perfect rhythm, flicking over your clit before sealing his mouth around it and sucking hard enough to make your vision blur.

You cry out, hips stuttering up into his face, but he just groans against you.

“Fuck, you’re so messy already,” he mumbles against you. “Is that for me?”

You’re beyond words.

Your fingers snake into his hair, anchoring yourself as he eats you out like a man with something to prove. He moves with precision and hunger, memorising your every twitch, every gasp, every breathless curse.

“God, Kook—” you pant, eyes squeezed shut. “You’re such a fucking overachiever.”

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, chin slick, pupils blown. “You gonna dock my grade if I make you come too fast?”

You glare down at him, chest heaving. “You’re insufferable.”

He presses a kiss to your clit, slow and sharp. “As if it doesn't turn you on."

You can’t argue. Not when he dives back in, tongue sliding over you with maddening confidence, his nose bumping against your clit as he hums.

The pressure builds fast.

Too fast.

And you know it’s coming — the kind of orgasm that starts at your toes and climbs like a fuse to the rest of you — but you don’t care.

You come hard, shaking through it, barely aware of the sounds leaving your mouth. Everything goes white-hot for a second — your grip in his hair, the tremble in your thighs, the pleasure that pulses through you.

You’re still gasping, thighs trembling, when he finally pulls back. His lips are slick, his chin wet with you, and he looks fucking wrecked.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You good?” he asks, cocky and a little breathless.

You shoot him a look. “Do I look good?”

He smirks. “You look like I just rocked your shit.”

You scoff, weak but grinning. “You’re so full of yourself.”

He kisses your inner thigh, then leans up, mouth dragging over your ribs as he moves back over you. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Your hands slide under his shirt as he settles above you again, dragging it up over his toned stomach until he gets the hint and peels it off. You press your palms to his chest, warm and solid and slick with sweat.

Then your hand starts moving lower.

Jungkook freezes above you, eyes flicking down to where your fingers are tugging at his waistband. You smirk up at him.

“My turn?”

“Your turn to what?” he asks, voice already hoarse.

You shift, nudging his hips up so you can start pulling his jeans open. “You think I’m gonna let you have all the fun?”

He groans — actual, full-bodied groan — as you work the zipper down and slide your hand beneath the waistband of his boxers.

But the second your fingers wrap around him, he grabs your wrist.

You look up, surprised. “What?”

He’s panting now, jaw tight, brow furrowed like he’s holding on by a thread.

“I can’t.”

You blink. “Can’t what?”

“I— fuck, if you put your mouth on me, I’m not gonna last.” He grips your wrist tighter, not pulling away but not letting you move either. “And I need to be in you first.”

You raise a brow, amused. “What happened to all that stamina you brag about during Mario Kart?”

He glares, cheeks flushed. “That’s different. You don’t suck me off during Mario Kart.”

“Maybe I should.”

“Don’t joke right now,” he grits out, pushing your hand out of his boxers with an almost painful kind of restraint. “I’m serious. I’m already dying.”

You pout, dragging your nails lightly down his stomach just to be a brat. “So needy.”

His eyes narrow, before moving back onto you.

You squeal as he pins your hands above your head, his body crashing into yours, mouth crashing against your neck.

“I’ll show you needy,” he growls, voice thick and dark.

Your heart kicks hard in your chest, and you’re smiling — giddy, wrecked, turned on beyond belief.

“You promise?” you whisper, voice almost mocking.

His hips roll down into yours.

“Oh, baby. I promise.”

The second his hips grind down again, dragging against your soaked heat, you feel your breath punch out of your lungs.

He lets go of your wrists and shoves his jeans and boxers down just far enough to free himself, cock flushed and heavy, already leaking at the tip. You reach for it instinctively, wanting to feel him, stroke him slow just to tease — but he swats your hand away like it’s nothing.

“No,” he growls, leaning in to press a kiss to your collarbone, rough and reverent all at once. “You had your chance.”

You open your mouth to argue, to push his buttons just a little more — but the head of his cock nudges your entrance, and whatever snark you had queued up melts into a gasp.

Jungkook groans under his breath, burying his face in the crook of your neck like the restraint is killing him. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Yeah,” you rasp, gripping his shoulders, nails digging in. “Wonder why.”

He shifts his hips, just a little, dragging the thick head through your folds. Not pushing in yet, but slicking himself up with you. You moan despite yourself, arching into him, your body desperate to be filled.

“You ready?” he mutters, voice ragged.

You look at him — really look at him. His hair’s a mess, stuck to his forehead. His lips are kiss-bruised and red. His abs flex as he holds himself up over you, barely restraining the shake in his arms.

And you’ve never wanted anything so badly in your life.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Please.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

He pushes in slow, thick and stretching, and your breath catches at the burn. Your back arches. One hand flies to the window for leverage, the other fists in the back of his neck.

“Jesus,” Jungkook groans, barely halfway in. “You feel— fuck— you feel insane.”

You laugh, short and winded. “That’s what you said last time.”

“Yeah, and I meant it.”

He bottoms out with a curse, hips flush to yours. For a moment, you both just breathe — heavy and ragged, bodies locked together, the air thick with sweat and want.

His movements are slow at first — just a shallow roll of his hips that drags his cock along every nerve ending inside you. You moan, legs tightening around his waist, heels digging into the backs of his thighs.

“Faster,” you breathe, already twitching around him.

He leans back just enough to watch your face, eyes locked on yours like he’s chasing every reaction. Then he picks up the pace — slamming into you with long, deep strokes that have the car rocking.

You cry out, snapping your hand up to press against your mouth. “Kook— fuck, don’t stop.”

He laughs — laughs, breathless and wrecked. “You think I could?”

Every thrust punches a gasp from your lungs. You can’t think. You can’t do anything but hold on.

He shifts, bracing one knee on the seat and angling his hips just right — and when he hits that spot inside you, your whole body jerks.

“Oh my god,” you moan.

“Right there?” he grits out, sweat dripping down his jaw. “Fuck, I feel it— your pussy’s so fucking tight, you’re gonna— shit— you’re gonna make me come.”

“Thought you said I’d be the one begging.”

He groans, pulls out almost all the way, then slams back in so hard you scream.

“Still wanna be a brat?” he growls, panting.

You nod, grinning through the moans. “Always.”

“Fine.” He grabs both your wrists again and pins them above your head, his body pressing into you harder now, relentless, sweat slicking your skin. “Then you can take it.”

And fuck, you do.

Your second orgasm creeps up on you fast — your whole body tensing as his thrusts get rougher, deeper, desperate. You cry out his name, high and wrecked, and the sound makes him snap.

His rhythm falters. His mouth crashes against yours, sloppy and hot, all teeth and tongue as he chases his own edge.

“I’m gonna—” he gasps, pulling back to look at you, eyes wild. “Fuck— can I—?”

You nod fast, moaning. “Inside. Just do it.”

That’s all it takes.

He buries himself one last time and shatters — groaning low in your ear as he spills into you, body shaking, arms trembling with effort as he holds himself up.

For a moment, it’s just the sound of breathing. Wind through cracked windows. The slow drip of sweat down your temples. The burn in your thighs. The mess between your legs.

Jungkook lets out a choked laugh and slumps down, burying his face in your neck. “Okay,” he mumbles. “That might’ve been the best sex I’ve had in a fucking car.”

You laugh, dazed. “You say that like it’s a long list.”

“Give me some credit,” he says, voice muffled against your skin. “I’m not that trashy.”

You stroke your fingers through his hair, still catching your breath. “We just fogged up every window in your car.”

“Worth it.”

He doesn’t move.

You’re still tangled together, his weight heavy on you, his softening cock still inside.

After a moment, he shifts slightly and lets out a low, satisfied sigh. You can feel the smile against your neck before he presses another kiss there. Then another. And another.

You squirm, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “You’re clingy as fuck after sex.”

“Mm-hmm,” Jungkook hums, completely unashamed. “Deal with it.”

You roll your eyes, still grinning. “You’re like a weighted blanket.”

He lifts his head just enough to look at you, sweaty curls falling into his eyes. “You love it.”

“Debatable.”

He snorts, then finally pulls out, slow and careful. You both groan at the feeling, and you feel it immediately: his cum, warm and slick, already starting to slide out of you.

You shift to reach for your underwear, cringing at the sticky feeling.

“I’ll clean you up,” he says, voice quiet but certain. “When we get home.”

You blink at him. “You don’t have to. Just drop me off—”

“No.” His tone is firmer now, jaw set. “I’m not just dropping you off.”

You stare at him for a beat, surprised by the sharp edge in his voice. Then you glance down pull up your bra and button up your shirt, suddenly very aware of your heartbeat again.

He watches you the whole time, his eyes dragging over your skin like he’s memorising every inch of it before covering it back up. And when you finish with the last button and reach for your jeans, he leans forward and kisses your jaw — soft, almost reverent.

“I mean it,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”

And for some reason, you don’t fight it.

You’re lying in his bed, hair still damp from the shower, the curve of his hoodie soft against your bare thighs. The sheets smell like fabric softener and his cologne, and the room is dim — just the small lamp by the closet casting a low amber glow. There’s a bowl of ramen on the nightstand, still steaming. You’re not hungry, but he made it for you, so you took a few bites anyway.

Outside, the city hums. A car passes on the street below. Somewhere down the hall, the radiator clicks.

It should feel normal. Comfortable. It did feel normal — until maybe twenty minutes ago.

Things were fine when you got here. He’d pulled you toward the bathroom and handed you a towel, that stupid grin still half on his face. He even said something about making noodles if you promised not to pass out in his bed again. You’d laughed. Called him a housewife. Everything felt fine.

But when you came out of the shower, something was different.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling his phone like he didn’t hear you walk in. And when he looked up, the smile was there, yeah — but it didn’t fully reach his eyes. You shrugged it off. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe he was just zoning out.

But then it kept going.

Quiet, too quiet. He’d made the ramen without talking. Brought it to you, set it down, and just... sat on the floor for a while, scrolling again, saying nothing. When you asked what he was doing, he just said, “Checking something,” and didn’t elaborate. Eventually he stood, turned on a random playlist, and flopped into the chair in the corner with a bottle of water.

Now he’s across the room, scrolling again, leg bouncing slightly like he’s keyed up and trying to burn it off. He hasn’t looked at you in a few minutes. You watch the light from his phone flicker across his face, the way his brow furrows every now and then, and something in your chest tugs.

It’s not dramatic. He’s not being rude or distant. He’s not treating you like a stranger. But he’s not treating you like you, either — not the way he usually does.

You know him too well not to notice. The way he’s moving isn’t right. Like he’s stuck in his own head. Like there’s something he wants to say but doesn’t know how to bring up.

Or maybe he’s trying not to say something. Either way, it sits in the air between you, subtle but heavy.

You pull your knees up under the hoodie and wrap your arms around them, resting your chin there. Watching him. Waiting, maybe, for him to snap out of it. Say something dumb. Make fun of your hair. Crawl into bed next to you like it’s nothing.

But he doesn’t.

You shift slightly, tugging the hoodie down over your thighs even though it’s already covering you. The ramen’s gone lukewarm on the nightstand.

“Kook?”

His head lifts just a little. “Hmm?”

You hesitate. “What’s going on?”

He blinks, finally looking at you. His eyes are soft. Tired, maybe. Or just dimmer than usual. “What do you mean?”

“You just feel…” You trail off, unsure how to word it without sounding dramatic. “I don’t know. A little off.”

He smiles, and it’s almost convincing. “I’m good. Just tired.”

You don’t push. Not really. You know him. If he doesn’t want to talk, he won’t. And whatever this is — it doesn’t feel sharp enough to cut yet. It just feels strange.

“Okay,” you say quietly.

He glances down, then back at you. “Eat your noodles before they go gross.”

You glance at the bowl, then back at him. “You eat yet?”

He nods. “Earlier.”

You don’t believe him, but you let it slide.

He shifts in the chair, stretching his legs out and resting his head back for a second before sitting up again, like he was about to let himself relax and then thought better of it.

“I’m gonna get some work done before bed,” he says, standing up slowly. “Couple things I need to catch up on.”

You watch him move toward the door, half expecting him to stop, change his mind, come back and say something dumb like he always does. But he just opens it, hand braced against the frame.

His voice is gentle when he adds, “Don’t stay up too late, alright?”

You nod. “Yeah. I won’t.”

He gives you a small smile — soft, careful — and then he’s gone.

The door clicks shut behind him.

You stare at it for a long moment. The hoodie sleeves are pulled over your hands now. The ramen sits untouched. The playlist keeps playing, quiet and aimless in the background.

You let out a soft sigh before reaching over to flick off the lamp.

The room goes dark, soft shadows stretching over the walls. The sheets rustle as you shift down into them, tugging the comforter over your legs, the warmth doing nothing to quiet the noise in your head.

Maybe this is why people don’t sleep with their best friends.

Maybe this is exactly why those lines exist — because crossing them means risking everything else. And maybe you knew that. Maybe you ignored it anyway.

Because it was him.

Because part of you has been circling this for longer than you want to admit.

You close your eyes, breathing slow and steady. The scent of him still clings to the sheets. Still wraps around you like he should be here. But he’s not.

Regret settles low in your chest, dull and heavy. You hate the way it sits there, thick in your ribs, twisting slow in your stomach. You’ve always hated how it creeps in after the fact, when it’s already too late to take anything back.

You shift onto your side and pull the blanket up to your chin. Try to sleep. Try to stop thinking.

He said everything was fine.

You just wish you believed him.

→ read part three here (coming soon — join the taglist for ‘just this… twice?’ to be notified when part three releases)