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stllmnstr · 4 months ago

Text

starlight

pairing: yang jungwon x f reader

genre: soulmates au, university au

word count: 13.4k

warnings: swearing, angst (but a happy ending because I’m not a monster), soulmate lore, copious amounts of pining and yearning and sighing

soundtrack: crying over you - honne, beka / a world alone - lorde / this is me trying / invisible string / daylight - taylor swift / spring day - bts / so far away - agust d, suran

note: this was another find in my old drafts that I spent a couple of days editing/rewriting. I have very much been in a jungwon mood these days, and it was fun to venture into some more angsty stuff that I haven't written in a while. happy reading! ♡

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

There’s a word for it. Something that’s whispered behind closed doors, shunned like a bad omen you can’t quite shake.

Glitch. A cruel twist of fate. A failed soulmate match.

Something you’ve been marked as since the countdown on your wrist ticked to 00:00 two long years ago and left you lonelier than ever. Something you’ve been fighting since destiny carved itself into your skin with a dull, lifeless shade of gray.

But fate is a funny thing. And love, as you’ve learned, is often found in the most unexpected places.

or,

fate, with all of its cruel, incandescent scheming, leads straight to yang jungwon.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

The overhead fluorescents in this particular lecture hall always manage to leave you with a pounding headache that even a strong dose of Advil can never quite seem to mitigate.

“And with time, these bonds only strengthen. Until a point is reached after which both parties would experience immense pain were they to be physically separated, willingly or not.”

Well, it’s either the lightbulbs or your professor’s droning.

Today, his words are slightly muted where they reach your ears, as if you’re underwater. Drowning in a topic that’s been beaten to death a million times over.

Still, this is information you should be taking in. Or, at the very least, jotting down notes of, since it’s all but guaranteed to appear on your final exam. But no matter how much you will yourself to focus, you can’t get your mind to cooperate.

After all, it’s bad enough that you’re forced to be here in the first place.

Sociology 112: Intro to Soulmate Theory. An absolute joke of a class.

The very foundation your society is built around. A nagging reminder of the grayscale deficiency that stains the skin of your left inner wrist.

Subconsciously, you tug the left sleeve of your shirt down a little further. There’s no need, not really. You made sure that your mark was fully covered before you left your dorm room this morning. Just like every morning.

But long standing habits are rarely broken, and the last thing you need now is another reminder of what makes you different. What makes you wrong.

At the front of the lecture hall, your professor pushes forward in that same, monotonous stupor. He’s either unaware or unconcerned by the fact that some of his students may be affected by his lecture on more than just a purely academic level.

Staring straight ahead, you distract yourself by scanning your professor, eyes taking in his appearance. At the very least, it will make it look as if you’re paying attention to what he’s saying.

With the signature graying hair most men in their mid-fifties carry, a pair of rather plain, slightly round eyeglasses, and neutral button-down appropriate for most professional settings, there’s nothing particularly noteworthy about your professor.

Like most people, he gets up in the morning, selects a plain shirt from his modestly sized closet. He enjoys a cup or two of black coffee before embarking on his morning commute to campus, leaving ten minutes earlier than strictly necessary, because he’s convinced it helps him avoid the worst of the morning traffic.

His life is one of normalcy, you imagine. Nothing that most people would find especially enviable or extraordinary.

But when he reaches up to point out an example on the lecture slide, the left sleeve of that beige button down lifts, just slightly.

You only catch a glimpse, a tiny fraction of a look, but you see it all the same. The glossy, shiny, red 00:00 inked into his skin.

You resist the urge to scratch your wrist. He clicks forward to the next slide. Life goes on.

“As per the syllabus, you’ll be completing projects with an assigned parter on a topic of your choice. Although I encourage you to consult a variety of resources and include several points of view in your project, the only firm guideline is that your topic relates to soulmate theory.”

Several points of view. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Yeah, right. In your experience, any arguments against the traditional soulmate model are scoffed at. Met with nothing but anger and ridicule.

Although it makes for a miserable life, it does make for a simplistic assignment. Assigned partners are usually the bane of your existence, but no matter how incompetent this one is, you’re sure it will be easy enough to meet up once or twice in the university library and regurgitate common sentiment on how the soulmate system is nothing short of a wondrous gift to humanity.

Glancing at the clock as your professor officially dismisses class for the morning, you suppose you do have something to thank the heavens for. He’s wrapped up fifteen minutes early, which means you’ll have enough time to grab a coffee before your shift.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and once again checking that the fabric of your left sleeve covers your wrist, you slide your laptop into your bag and stand up from your seat.

No matter what particular strand of bullshit this class dragged you through, today will be a good day. Or at least a comfortingly neutral one. You’re sure of it.

With one final scan of your desk, you head to the exit at the front of the lecture hall without a backwards glance.

And in the very back corner of the lecture hall, tucked neatly out of both sight and mind, Yang Jungwon exhales a long sigh before gathering his things.

…..

“Oh, you are an absolute angel.”

Playful frown tugging at your lips, you ask, “Why is it that you only praise me when I come bearing gifts?”

Jake’s too engrossed with taking a long sip of the matcha latte you just handed him to concern himself with giving your question a real answer.

Despite his inclination to be most forthcoming with compliments when they’re a payment for caffeine, he’s hands down your favorite coworker. He’s genuinely kind, easygoing in a way that makes even the longest of shifts pass quickly.

Setting your bag down, you slide into the seat next to his, turning on your desk computer. “Any new applications to process today.”

“Nothing yet.” Jake glances at the empty inbox to confirm his answer. He shrugs, adding, “This time of year is usually fairly slow, though. We tend to get the most applications at the beginning of the semester and around the holidays.”

“Right,” you nod. “That makes sense.” Times when people are fresh on campus, away from home and exploring a new environment for the first time. And times when people are lonely.

It’s something you understand well. After all, you had been part of the latter group when you submitted your own application.

Last year was your first year of university, and although the numbers on your wrist had already faded to a dull, matte gray by the time you enrolled, living on campus put you far away from your support system for the first time in your life.

Even then, you avoided it as long as you could. It hurt something in your pride, felt like admitting a weakness, admitting a flaw. But the truth could only be avoided so long and on one cloudy afternoon in late fall, the loneliness crossed the line from painful to unbearable.

So, with a rain jacket pulled tight around your body, you made your way to the Student Support Center on campus and sought out help for something you’d been grieving in private for the better part of a year.

It had still felt like shame, to disclose the details of your condition. To tell another person about the cosmic cruelty etched permanently into the soft skin of your left wrist.

And then it was done. Your secret belonged to someone else, too. Pain was shared, and over time, started to feel less like a cut and more like a bruise.

It still ached when you pressed on it, of course, but you felt lighter. Able to breathe a little easier.

But even with all of the support, all of the work you’ve done to feel a bit more like yourself, pain is still a shadow that lingers at your heels.

Even now, months later, sitting next to a friend, you suppress the urge to tug at your sleeve again.

You’re able to see your actions for what they are now. And you suppose it’s the same thing – injured pride, a deep sense of shame, that has you wearing long sleeves even as the last days of late summer cling to the air with stifling heat.

It’s not as if your unfamiliar with the failure etched into your skin. You know what you would find, what everyone would see if you were to wear short sleeves for once.

A dull, matte gray 00:00. A reminder of what could’ve been. What should have been, if the universe had just been a little kinder to you.

Even as days and weeks and months pass you by, you still remember when there was a different number displayed there. One that got smaller with each passing second. One that, like your professor’s, like everyone else’s, glowed a bright, glossy red.

Just like everyone else, you were born with red numbers on your left wrist. There was no sign then, at your birth, that you were different. That you were a glitch.

Just like your family, just like your friends, just like every stranger you passed in the street, your number was normal. In fact, it was enviable. Mostly because it was so much smaller than average.

As a child, you’d reveled in it – the comparatively short length of your soulmate countdown. It wasn’t unusual for people to have to wait well into their twenties, thirties, or even forties to find their soulmate.

But a quick calculation had revealed that your countdown would tick to 00:00 just after your seventeenth birthday.

It feels stupid now, like some sort of cruel joke, that you ever thought of yourself as lucky.

You still remember it as if it were yesterday. Two long years ago, at the delicate age of seventeen. On the precipice of a life-changing revelation. A moment that was meant to mark the beginning of your forever. Your happy ending.

The air was clean that day. Lingering with the fresh scent of the earth after a rainstorm. Rebirth. A sign of something beautiful to come. Dew and humidity clung to you like a second skin as you raced towards the neighborhood park that had been haunting your dreams for the last few weeks.

Soulmates and the bonds that connect them aren’t magic, not exactly, but there was still something divine about it, the cosmic energy that sang to you. That told you that this particular park was where your life was destined to change. That it was where you were going to meet your soulmate.

The other person who felt the same gentle tug towards you, whose wrist was stained with a matching countdown, set to tick down to 00:00 at the very second your eyes locked with one another.

Your heart was racing, nearly beating out of your chest. Your fingertips thrummed with it, that overflow of energy that didn’t come from you but belonged to you all the same.

And like everyone else, your timer ran out.

He was there. He was there, and you knew it was him without having to say a word. Across the park, under the shade of an old sycamore tree, you could see it, feel it in his eyes.

Your soulmate.

Handsome and a year older than you, if you had to guess. A perfect stranger that you felt like you already knew. That already understood you without the need for words.

You had been too wrapped up in it, in him, to notice the one striking oddity. Because unlike everyone else, your completed countdown, that ever coveted 00:00, didn’t remain that gorgeous, shiny red.

No, while your eyes were locked on his, heart singing with unfulfilled dreams and visions of a future you’d never have the privilege of knowing, it had faded to that same dull gray that mocks you now.

It wasn’t the color that you noticed. It was the burning sensation that finally had you tearing your gaze away from him and landing on the skin of your left wrist.

Confused, your brow drew together as you tried to make sense of it. As your mind spun, searching for a plausible explanation.

And when you finally found it in you to look up at him again, the wrongness of it all began to sink in. The way he walked toward you with slow, reluctant steps. The way his mouth pulled tight at the corners, as if he wanted to prevent any words from escaping.

The wedding ring wrapped around the finger on his left hand. The already occupied space you thought would belong to you one day.

It was an accident, he told you. Even then, his voice had been steady. He wasn’t pleading for your forgiveness. He didn’t need it. He didn’t need you.

It was nothing more than a drunken mistake between him and a girl he met at university. One that he wasn’t serious about, but damage had been done nonetheless. A single night that was meant to be a blip, a passing moment in time, but had turned into a child. One that the two of them had already made the decision to raise together.

A child that had made them both decide to forgo the fate written on their wrists and forge a new life on their own.

It hurt, he told you, to see you, to know that he was causing you pain.

But one glance at him confirmed for you that his hurt was different from yours. For one, he could still speak, could form words with that same, even cadence that felt like knives embedding themselves into your skin.

You had wanted to beg, wanted to scream until your throat was raw. It was him. It was him. He was supposed to be yours, and you were supposed to be his. Wasn’t it the same for him? Didn’t he feel it too?

But his mind was made up and you knew better than to plead with a man who had fought and forsaken destiny itself.

It wasn’t your fault. He had told that day, and you’ve heard it countless times since then. From your parents. From your closest friends. From your own tear-stained reflection in your bedroom mirror.

But blame with nowhere to go always had a way of ending up on your shoulders, and empty reassurances never stopped your mind from spinning with painful possibilities on sleepless nights.

What if we had met sooner? What if he had never met her? What if they never had a child?

Or even worse,

What if I found him again? Begged him to reconsider? Convinced him to leave her?

In the end, it was pointless. Fate had been written and then rewritten. Would in a tight string and undone in one fell swoop. The stars had aligned and shifted and still remained so terribly out of reach.

There was nothing you could do, nothing to be done.

But it didn’t stop the loneliness from seeping in. It was always loudest in the quiet moments, but it never truly left. It didn’t matter where you were – in class, with friends, surrounded by people, or completely alone. There was always an overwhelming sense of loss, of loneliness that followed you wherever you went.

So last fall, when the burden of it felt too heavy to bear alone, you’d bitten the bullet and applied to your university’s support program for glitches. Although, of course, none of the staff dared to use that word.

It’s where you first met Jake. And the bright red number on his wrist still ticks evenly, he had a friend once, one that shared a fate similar to yours. One who let the loneliness consume her instead of accepting help.

Even though it wasn’t through firsthand experience, Jake knew the pain of a failed soulmate match intimately. And after a handful of weeks, you’d found genuine friendship in him.

After a few months of attending support groups, he was the one who suggested you for an open position on the support team. It was him that thought you might find a renewed sense of purpose, a distinct kind of empathy for the other students on campus with stories like yours.

You’re grateful beyond words for him, for all of it. For the people and the friendships and the small moments that remind you that life is worth living, even on the hard days. Even when you’re forced to sit through classes on soulmate theory and pretend like long sleeves are nothing but a fashion statement.

So you’ll take his compliments with a smile, even when they come at the expense of a matcha latte from his favorite campus cafe. You’ll take the hard days and the good days and all the little moments in between.

He knows it too, even if you don’t say it with words. Even if all you ask is, “The matcha’s good?”

But something in you still smiles, still feels a little lighter, when Jake turns to you with a grin and assures, “Of course.”

…..

If there’s one place you still find to be painfully devoid of optimism, it’s your damn Intro to Soulmate Theory course. Although it’s an important element of existing sociological systems and objectively relevant, it presses on your ever-lingering bruises more than just about anything else in your day-to-day life.

As if that weren’t enough, it’s a morning class. Which means you’re already in a dreary mood as the clock ticks painfully slow through yet another monotone lecture.

Thankfully, your professor’s cadence is beginning to slow, a surefire signal that class is drawing to an end. Again, you glance up at the clock, a spark of pleasant surprise flickering through your mind. Could you really be so lucky as to get out early two classes in a row?

At the front of the hall, your professor scans his notes one final time. Nodding slightly, you really think he’s about to let you go ten minutes ahead of schedule.

But then his eyes pause at the bottom of the page, a reminder he missed the first time.

“Before we wrap up for the day,” he says, and you suppress the urge to groan audibly. “As I mentioned last class, you’ll be completing your next assignment in partners.”

That’s right. You’d almost forgot. Ugh, as if the disappointment of a full length lecture hadn’t been bad enough.

“The instructions, rubric, and due date can all be found on your syllabus, and as always, you’re welcome to email me or attend office hours with any additional questions you may have. I’ve already taken the initiative to place you in pairs, so please listen for your name.”

Glancing down at his notes again, he reads out the first pair.

“Kim Sunoo and Lee Heeseung.”

As he moves through the seemingly endless list of names, you begin to tune out. Have there always been this many people in this class? Admittedly, this is not a lecture that often commands your attention, but it seems like something you should have picked up on.

A minute later, spurred by the sudden sound of your own name, your attention snaps back into focus.

“... and Yang Jungwon.”

Yang Jungwon.

It’s a name you’ve heard in passing, maybe. But it’s not one you’re familiar with.

Standing as the list draws to a conclusion, you begin to look around the emptying lecture hall. You figure it might be easiest to exchange information now, but you’re not sure if you’ll be able to find him with everyone else trying to do the same.

Sighing, you decide to try for a minute or two before just resorting to looking up his email on the online class list later and sending him a message there.

Ultimately, it’s him who finds you.

“___?” At the sound of your name, you spin around, looking back over your shoulder.

His presence, like his voice, is unassuming. Still, as your eyes land on who you assume must be Yang Jungwon, there’s something about him that makes you want to keep looking.

Dark hair falls over his forehead, framing equally dark eyes. Dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and oversized jeans, the attention doesn’t seem like something he’d seek out. Even now, he doesn’t quite match your gaze.

“Yeah,” you affirm, somewhat breathless. “Yang Jungwon?”

“Just Jungwon is fine.” He smiles, but it’s a tight, strained thing. Doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s pressing forward before you have time to linger on it. “Do you want to go ahead an exchange information now? I’ll get my final training schedule this afternoon, so I can message you when I have a better idea of when I’ll be able to meet up.”

Well, he seems competent enough. Or at the very least, willing to put in effort. It’s more than you can say for most of the assigned partners you’ve been given. And it’s pleasant surprise in a string of disappointments and what is surely going to be a miserable project to work on.

“That sounds good,” you nod, reaching for your phone. You open a new contact before handing it to him to fill out. As he types, you watch a strand of hair fall over his eyes. He doesn’t bother to brush it away, even as your fingertips itch with the sudden urge to.

Instead, you busy yourself with asking a question. “Training schedule?” you echo his earlier words. “Are you an athlete?”

If he’s put off by your probing, he doesn’t show it. Steady as ever, he continues typing. “Mhm,” he hums. “Taekwondo team.”

“Ah,” you nod. “That’s cool.” Accepting your phone back, you type your name into the newly created chat. “Here, I sent you a message with my name, so you have my information, too. I work in the afternoons, but I have a pretty consistent schedule. Once you have your training times, we can figure out when we’re both free.”

Glancing at the message that comes through on his end, Jungwon confirms, “Perfect.” Hiking his bag a little further up on his shoulder, he pauses for a moment before turning his gaze towards the door at the front of the lecture hall.

In the time that’s elapsed, most of the other students have made their way towards it. The room is significantly more empty than it was a handful of minutes ago. Still, Jungwon lingers for a moment.

Finally, he looks back at you. This time, he does meet your eyes.

You know it’s nothing but the overhead lights. The same obnoxious fluorescents that always give you a pounding headache. But reflected in his dark, searching gaze, they almost look like starlight.

“I’ll see you around, then,” he says before turning towards the door.

And if you let your gaze linger just a little too long on his retreating back, you’ll be grateful that no one is paying you enough attention to notice.

…..

Your dinner is cleaned up, skincare is completed, and the events from your day are blurring into a sleepy sort of haze when his first message reaches you.

9:36 pm Yang Jungwon I got my final training schedule. Looks like I should be free Tuesday and Thursday afternoons after 4 if that works for you?

Double checking your work schedule, you type a reply.

9:38 pm You I work on Tuesdays until 6 but I can do Thursday at 4.

9:39 pm Yang Jungwon Let’s plan on Thursday then 👍 Meet you at the library? I’ll reserve a study room on the first floor.

9:40 pm You Sounds good, see you then!

With the semester well underway, Thursday is quick to roll around. Other than a quick wave and a small smile towards him during your last shared lecture, you haven’t had any contact with Jungwon since your last messages.

Even though it’s still only early afternoon, you’re already feeling the weight of a busy day weighing on you when you arrive at the library. A handful of minutes before four, you’re working to locate the study room Jungwon just sent you the number of.

Navigating your way through frazzled study groups and overworked, overcaffeinated upperclassmen, you finally find it with a few minutes to spare. Pulling the door open slowly, you’re half surprised to see that he’s arrived even earlier than you.

Early and straight from practice, you assume, if his still slightly damp hair is anything to go by. Freshly showered, the faint smell of his shampoo reaches you where you slide down into the seat across from him.

“Good call on the study room,” you add after your initial greeting. “I always forget how packed the library is once the semester really gets going.”

“Right?” Jungwon agrees. “I have a friend who swore by them last year, and now I’ll never go back.

“Letting you in on the study room secret,” you grin, pulling out your laptop. “That’s a true friend right there.”

“Yeah.” Something in Jungwon’s gaze softens as he nods. There’s a distinct fondness in his eyes, one that makes you think there’s a story there. One about more than just study rooms. “He is.”

When you finish settling in, you pull up your course syllabus again, clicking on the link to the assignment guidelines. “So,” you start, scanning the page one more time, “the instruction seem pretty straightforward. It looks liek we just need to pick a topic within the realm of soulmate theory and discuss recent research or developments.”

Swallowing the sudden lump in your throat, you suppress the urge to tug at your left sleeve. Eyes honing in on the screen in front of you, you force yourself into a practiced state of detachment. The one you always revert back into when discussing this particular topic.

“I don’t know if you have a topic in mind already,” you shrug, “but I’m pretty much open to anything.”

Across from you, Jungwon’s teeth start to worry at his bottom lip. He hesitates for a moment, the room suspended in silence before he ventures, “What about –” Shaking his head slightly, his words die on his lips. “Never mind.”

Looking up at him, you frown. “Is there something you’re interested in?”

“No.” Jungwon shakes his head again. “I doubt there would be any recent research, anyway.”

“Okay,” you concede. Part of you wants to push further, but you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Instead, you type in a quick search. “I just pulled up some recent research topics, and it looks like there’s been development related to countdown colors and location based soulmate matches.” Ignoring the sudden slight burning sensation on your left wrist, you fight to maintain an even tone as you ask, “Do either of those sound interesting to you?”

Jungwon pauses for a moment, considering. “Maybe location based matches?”

Exhaling, you release a breath you hadn’t been meaning to hold. With a small nod, you tell him, “That sounds good. Let’s look for publications to reference today. We can divide them between us before we go and then take notes on them separately. We can meet up again next week at the same time to start an outline, if that works for you. We have a little over four weeks until the final paper is due, so that should give us a decent start.”

“Yeah,” Jungwon agrees. “That works for me.”

Returning to your computer, you fight the urge to steal small glances at him as he does the same. In the minutes that follow, a silence settles around you. It’s not horribly awkward, but you still find yourself itching to fill it with something.

Finally, you bite the bullet. “Would it be okay with you if I put some music on? Just something instrumental.”

Glancing up at you, your eyes meet. Again, you’re not sure how he does it. But tucked away in a library study room, his gaze reflects the lights above you in a way that looks all too much like starlight. “Sure,” Jungwon nods.

Forcing your gaze back to your screen, you navigate to your study playlist and put it on shuffle. The first handful of notes spill into the silence, a calm piano melody that cuts through some of the stagnance.

A handful of classical pieces and a dozen journal articles later, Jungwon breaks the easy rhythm the two of you have fallen into. “Clair de Lune,” he names the tune that has just begun to weave itself around the room. A small smile turns the corners of his lips upwards. “This is on my study playlist, too.”

You offer him a matching smile in return. A soft thing. A shared moment. “You like this song?” It makes sense. A boy with stars in his eyes listening to a love letter to the moon.

“Yeah,” he nods. The quiet melody sings through the air, floats around tentative glances, delicate breaths. Lands lightly on two sets of shoulders. “You know, you’re better than I am. I always end up turning on my regular playlist and then singing along to the songs instead of actually working on anything.”

That earns him a full blown smile. “Believe me,” you lean in like it’s a secret. Something meant just for the two of you. “I do that more than I probably should, too.”

A shared grin later, the two of you are back to your own laptop screens.

Even though it’s your study playlist that continues to filter softly through your speaker, you find yourself distracted for a different reason.

It’s all too easy to imagine.

Jungwon, alone in his room, eyes sparkling even as he fights off the clutches of sleep. A song playing through his speaker. An old favorite, maybe, or perhaps something he heard on the radio and hasn’t been able to get out of his head since. One that he sings along to softly, assignments lying untouched on the desk in front of him.

…..

Despite your newfound fondness of your project partner, you’re sure that Intro to Soulmate Theory will continue to be your most dreaded class until the end of the semester releases you from its twice-a-week morning monotony.

The universe, as always, seems determined to prove you wrong, though.

Just as your professor steps into position behind the podium at the front of the lecture hall, a person slides down into the usually unoccupied seat just to the left of yours.

Startled, you glance up .

“Jungwon?”

“Hey,” the boy in question smiles. Switching to a whisper as the professor begins his lecture, he adds, “I’m glad I made it on time. I thought for sure I was going to be late.”

Sliding his bag off of his shoulder, he pulls out his computer and finishes settling into the seat next to yours. Then, he sets something on the desk in front of you. “I brought this for you, by the way.”

Eyes landing on the iced coffee in front of you, you can’t find it in yourself to do anything but stare for a moment.

“I noticed you have one sometimes, in this class.” With your silence, Jungwon suddenly seems unsure of himself. “I wasn’t sure what your order was, so I just guessed based on color. And I mean, light brown can be just about anything with iced coffee, so I hope you like it. I probably should have just asked, but…” he trails off, and you don’t think you imagine the light dusting of pink that settles across his cheekbones. “But I thought it would be nicer as a surprise.”

“I – thank you.” The fondness that’s been growing since your time together in library study room begins to swell again.

You glance at him, and your heart gives a strange, unsteady lurch. Not entirely unpleasant, but disquieting all the same. For a moment, it feels like something bigger. Something more.

Something you haven’t felt since a humid afternoon in a neighborhood park that you’ve been trying to forget for a long time.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Jungwon shrugs, but his cheeks retain their color. “I was stopping by the cafe anyway.” He gestures to the coffee on his own desk, proof of his claim. “Besides, it’s what a partner’s for.”

“Well, thank you,” you repeat. “I –”

“Again,” the sound of your professor’s voice, suddenly sharp, cuts through your words. “I’d like to give a firm reminder to you all that my lectures are not an appropriate place to carry on side conversations. Feel free to exit the room and forfeit your attendance points for the day if you are unable to refrain.”

Thoroughly cowed, you shrink back into your seat as a few wandering pairs of eyes land on you.

At your side, Jungwon shakes with a silent hint of laughter.

Despite the humiliation of essentially being asked to shut up in front of an entire lecture hall, the sight is enough to have you smiling.

And when the two of you part ways an hour later with matching smiles and a promise to see each other again Thursday afternoon, your heart feels lighter than it has in ages.

…..

When Thursday afternoon comes, it finds you and Jungwon tucked away in the same study room, sitting across from one another, laptops open, and outline for your project halfway formed.

This time, the drinks that sit on the table in front of you are courtesy of your wallet. The iced coffee Jungwon brought you a few mornings ago wasn’t your usual order, but it is what you’re sipping on now. You can’t quite decide what you enjoy more: the taste or the sentiment.

Either way, you have a feeling that a tradition of sorts may be blooming.

You can’t say that you mind. It’s nice to have something to look forward to, to have someone to share it with. It doesn’t matter that it’s small. It doesn’t matter that it’s just an unexpected coffee to help a study session pass by just a bit faster. It feels nice, to be considered. To be thought of. It feels… special.

With the same instrumental study playlist filtering through your laptop speaker, the two of you exchange a smile when Clair de Lune begins to play.

With startling clarity, you realize that you enjoy this. It’s pleasant. A project that you were dreading with dragging feet has become something you look forward to.

And you’re sure that it’s because of him.

Despite the fact that you’re poring over research that would sting like a slap to the face under any other circumstances, Jungwon’s presence has a way of soothing the ache. Even as you scan over another promising article detailing the current research on soulmate matches in various geographic regions, you find yourself fighting smiles. Stealing glances.

All Jungwon is doing is sitting next to you. Occasionally trading mindless conversations with you. But that’s enough to keep the reminders of a tragic fate lost to decisions and circumstances out of your control at bay for the time being.

You’re not sure what it is, not sure why it seems to reach you somewhere that’s remained untouched for years, but the more time you spend with Jungwon, the more you start to like it.

That odd sensation that almost feels like butterflies in your stomach. The stilted rhythm of a heartbeat that almost feels like it’s running a little faster, skipping a step every now and then.

The warmth that sits high on your cheekbones and heats almost like a flustered blush whenever he catches your eye for a little too long.

A million little almosts. A thousand little possibilities. The lingering ghost of a hundred somethings you thought you lost along with the dead countdown on your wrist two long years ago.

But you don’t let yourself voice these thoughts. You’re afraid to even let your mind linger on them for too long.

If it does, you’re worried that it will twist and tarnish whatever is taking flight into something ugly, something rotten. Will convince you that this glimmer of peace you’ve found is living on borrowed time and will only bring a future of misery in its wake.

Because the semester will end, the class will finish, and your project will be submitted.

Yang Jungwon will become nothing but a moment in time. A blip on a radar. A distant memory that you hope you’ll reflect on with fondness.

Time will continue on with its incessant march, and the countdown on your wrist will still be that ugly, faded, gray.

It doesn’t matter if the moments that pass between the two of you feel like almosts. Your fate was already written and unraveled by another man who didn’t want you.

You’re a failure. A glitch.

Pretty words and sideways glances and unexpected gestures imbued with kindness won’t change that. Won’t fix you.

Yang Jungwon will move on from this project, from this class, from you.

The countdown that you’re sure must tick bright red on his wrist will continue to get smaller and smaller, and you will be nothing but a forgotten memory.

You’re not sure why it’s so upsetting, here in the sanctity of the study room. Not sure why this series of truths you’ve always known is suddenly so devastating. But something about the way they swirl in the recesses of your mind had you flailing, desperate for air, for distance, for space.

Out loud, you choke out a halfhearted excuse about stepping out for a moment. The concern that immediately flickers across Jungwon’s features barely registers in your panic induced stupor.

You need to go. Need to get away. Need to find somewhere to be alone and away from all of it, from him. You can’t breathe –

“___?” You hear your name. You know it’s him. Hear him ask gently, “Are you okay?”

But it’s muffled. It’s all wrong.

In your haste to escape, you knock over the gift, your gesture of goodwill in the form of coffee you bought for Jungwon.

You watch, horrified, as it falls in slow motion. Hot, dark liquid spills over the table, narrowly avoiding his laptop and class notes.

Of course. Of course you ruined this, too.

“It’s okay,” you think you hear him say as he reaches for a spare napkin, dabbing at the growing puddle. But it’s not. It’s not.

He reaches for his bag, pulling out another handful of napkins from the front pocket. Instinctively, he rolls up his sleeve, the left one, to wipe up the rest of the excess liquid.

That’s when you see it. The inky 00:00 on the inside of his left wrist.

It’s not red. It’s not shiny. It doesn’t make sense for him. A boy with stars in his eyes should have love on his skin.

But even as you blink again, it remains unchanged. It’s a dull, muted, lifeless gray.

A reflection, a twin, a copy of your own.

A moment too late, his eyes fall to the skin of his wrist too. With the practiced reflexes of a trained athlete, he’s pulling it down just as quickly as he rolled it up. But it’s too late. You’ve already seen the truth.

Shared pain. Shared shame.

It grounds you. Reaching out a hand, you take a few napkins from the top of the pile.

“Here,” you offer, voice unbearably small. A million questions swim in your mind, none of which you’ll ask. “I can help.” Hollow words and a hollow sentiment. There’s nothing you can do for him, and he knows it just as well. As luck would have it, spilled coffee is the least of your shared concerns.

Nonetheless, the two of you wipe up the remainder of the spill in silence, a gentle piano melody still weaving its way around the space between the two of you. It wraps itself around both of your stained wrists, threads an invisible string between two lost souls, two shared fates.

Finally, after long minutes, you are the first one to speak. “It didn’t get on your computer, did it?”

“No,” Jungwon shakes his head. He reaches an outstretched hand towards you, taking the soiled napkins you still hold before discarding them in the trash can. “Just the table.”

“That’s good.” A moment passes. Two. And then, “I’m sorry.” You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for. You’re not sure what you should be apologizing for. In the end, you take the easy way out. “I should have paid better attention to where your cup was. You can finish mine, if you want.”

“That’s okay.” Running a hand through his hair, Jungwon explains, “I usually only drink it hot.”

“I can get you a new one –”

“Really,” he insists. “It’s okay.”

And it is. You can tell that he’s not upset, not about the coffee. But the tension is still there. Has yet to vacate the room. Has yet to drain from the tight line in his shoulders.

You saw it. You have the sinking suspicion that he knows you saw it.

That puts you at a crossroads. You can act as if nothing has happened, pretend that you saw nothing and do your best to return to your project.

But you’ve had friends and family tiptoe around you for the last two years, and it never left you feeling anything but empty. Even more unwanted, more of an anomaly. More of a glitch.

You don’t want Jungwon to feel those things. Don’t want him to feel as if he has to carry all of his pain by himself. So, you try your best, in a steady voice, hiding the shake in your hands underneath the cover of the table in front of you.

“You know,” you nod towards his arm, taking great care to keep any sign of judgement clear from your voice. “I actually work at the Student Support Center. I know it’s rare, but there are lots of people and resources there dedicated to helping people that… struggle with soulm–”

“I think we should just work on the project.” Jungwon’s lips are tight, drawn into a thin line. Avoiding your gaze, he sinks a little further into his chair. Even with his eyes trained on the floor beneath him, you can see the tension in his jaw, the uneasy tapping of his fingers against his leg.

The way he tugs at the sleeve that sits over his left wrist makes you want to press matters further, to push just a little more until he knows that he has you on his side, but you’ll respect his wishes.

You may have shared moments between the two of you, but you don’t know him, not really. The boundaries he sets are not yours to push. The lines he draws are not yours to cross.

The last thing you want to do is increase his discomfort, even if you have the sinking feeling that you’ve already done just that.

“Okay, yeah.” You take a deep inhale. “I overstepped. I’m sor–”

But Jungwon just shakes his head again. “Don’t worry about it.”

…..

But you do.

You worry about it when you head back to your down nearly an hour later, after bidding him a goodnight that was still riddled with tension.

You worry about it as you prepare dinner, accidentally leaving the stovetop on long after you’ve finished cooking.

You worry about it as you try to fall asleep, unsettling thoughts of Jungwon suffering from the same pain, the same shame you’ve been hiding for the last two years. Distantly, you wonder how long it’s been for him.

You worry about it when you arrive at your next Intro to Soulmate Theory lecture, two coffees in hand.

Your worry turns to dread when long minutes tick by and still, the seat on your left remains horribly unoccupied, coffee going cold where it sits untouched on the desk.

You worry when you arrive at work, the handful of messages you’ve sent still unanswered no matter how many times you check your phone.

10:47 am You Hi Jungwon, sorry if this is annoying but you weren’t in class today and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay

10:58 am You I’m really sorry about the other day at the library. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

1:32 pm You Hey let me know when you see this. I just really want to make sure you’re okay.

You’ve typed and deleted a million more, unsure of how to best approach the situation. You’re not close to one another, not really. You’re not even friends. You’re project partners, and not even of your own volition.

You can’t seek him out, because you don’t know where he lives. Who he talks to. What his schedule is.

The whole situation has you feeling a bit helpless. Your shift passes in an absentminded blur as you try to piece together some kind of solution, some way of making sure he’s okay.

In your daze, you hardly notice that the clock has ticked all the way to the end of your shift. Jake finds you, an apologetic smile on his features.

His voice sounds far away, muddled as he asks you for a favor, asks if you’d be willing to pull a double tonight since the person on the evening shift just called out sick.

Usually you’d be hesitant, but right now you’re desperate for a distraction. Something to take your mind off of the fear that gnaws at your gut.

But through the fog in your mind, you’ve forgotten one thing. In your old schedule, evening shifts were always your favorite. Primarily because they’re significantly slower than the daytime ones. Back then, the reprieve had been welcome, and you’d used the extra time to finish up assignments between tasks.

But now, every agonizing minute feels like an eternity.

And it’s an especially slow night tonight. From your office seat, you watch as the light rain showers outside turn into a torrential downpour. With a sigh, you resign yourself to the fact that no one will be visiting tonight. No one will want to leave their home in weather like this.

In the silence, you’re left alone with your thoughts. Again, you check your phone screen, hoping that sometime in the last three minutes since you last checked, there will be a notification to ease your worries.

But there’s nothing. The only thing that stares back at you is the time and the faint outline of your own reflection.

Frustrated, you set your phone back down. There has to be something you can do. You’re halfway convinced that you should just go through everyone on your class list and send emails until someone knows something when the sound of the chime that hangs above the front door to the center rings out against the silence.

Peering over your computer, you frown. Maybe Jake forgot something.

But as the person draws closer, a familiar shape begins to solidify. And it’s not your favorite coworker.

“Jungwon?” It’s him. You’re sure of it. Even if he looks more like a drowned cat than the boy you share a study room with.

Your brow furrows, a strange mix of confusion and relief coloring your features as you stand from your seat. A million emotions flicker through your mind, running too fast for you to fully keep up. Annoyance that he’s been avoiding you and your messages. Confusion as to why he’s here now. And above it all, cold, sharp relief that he seems to be okay.

But then you let your eyes scan him, falling from his dark hair to his soaked sneakers.

He’s absolutely drenched, down to the bone. Rain soaked hair falls over his eyes, stray drops streaking over his cheeks, his nose, his jaw. Dripping from his dark eyelashes. His clothes, usually baggy, cling a bit closer to his frame with the added weight of precipitation.

And his eyes. His sparkling, shining eyes full of starlight.

They’re frantic now, imbued with a panic you recognize all too well.

“Jungwon,” you repeat, letting your strides eat up the ground as you close the distance that separates you.

He’s shaking, you realize. His entire body trembles. Without thinking, without even really meaning to, your hands reach up to smooth some of his dark, wet hair away from his eyes. Your touch only intensifies his shivering.

He stands, motionless, dripping on the floor. He still can’t match your gaze, has yet to breathe a single word to you.

“You’re shaking.” You can’t help but state the obvious. Removing your hand from his temple, you reach for his hand. It’s cold, too. Raindrops melt against your skin as you touch your skin to his. Finding no resistance, you envelop his hand in your own.

Tugging slightly, you pull him into a nearby room, stopping only to grab a warm blanket. Guiding him gently into a chair, you drape it over his shoulders, let it cover his entire body beneath his neck.

Stepping away from him, you begin to brew a warm cup of tea. After another minute of silence, you hand it to him wordlessly.

You watch him take a tentative sip. His fingertips are red, evidence of the lingering chill in his bones, where he wraps them around the mug.

A million questions bubble in your throat. You breathe life into none of them. Silence settles around the both of you. Not entirely unpleasant, but brimming with something heavy.

You’re not sure how much time passes like that. It could be minutes, could be hours. Could be something not bound by the rules and restraints of physics at all.

But soon enough, the mug is empty. Jungwon sighs.

“I just,” he finally breathes, and you feel your heart clench in your chest. Seizing like his pain belongs to you. His voice is ragged, scraped raw. And so, so quiet. “I couldn’t be alone.” There’s a tremble in his fingertips when he adds, “Not tonight.”

“You’re not,” you assure him, shaking your head as you step closer. After a moment of consideration, you slide down into the seat next to him. “I promise you. You’re not alone.”

Jungwon closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the wall. You watch as his throat works around a swallow.

“Okay,” he finally whispers.

You mean it. He’s not alone. You won’t let him be. Not for the remainder of your shift. Not when the early traces of dawn start to streak in through the windows, clouds parting in the morning sky as the rain releases its grip on the world.

Not as the sun starts to peek its head over the horizon, painting the sky in pastel watercolors and the promise of a new day.

Even then, it’s just the two of you. Jugwon’s head it still against the wall. His eyes are closed, but you know he’s not sleeping.

You don’t move until he does. Until he asks in a small voice if you’ll meet him at the coffee shop the two of you have started to become regular at.

Until you honor his request with a nod and a promise to see him again in an hour.

…..

The coffee shop is mostly empty this early in the morning. You watch, sipping absentmindedly on your iced coffee as a handful of patrons come and go, moving about their day blissfully unaware of the way your world feels a bit like it’s spinning on its axis.

But you feel distant from them, too.

The corner table you and Jungwon occupy feels private, secluded. A bit like the study room you’re also well acquainted with. A fitting place for revelations.

After a minute of baited silence, Jungwon begins all at once, coffee warm between his hands.

His match was supposed to be in a park, too.

It’s interesting – the research you’ve been reading on location based matches supports claims that soulmate bonds prefer open air, areas surrounded by nature. Ironic then, that both of yours should end like this.

Jungwon’s fate was set in stone later than yours. His match failed a year ago. Exactly a year ago. Today is an anniversary for him, a terrible reminder of your shared fate, shared shame.

It was supposed to be in a park. His favorite one. A place he went often, a place he loved. He hasn’t been back since.

Not when that eerie, cosmic, magnetic pull of destiny tugged at him until he was sitting on a bench, next to the rose garden that had just begun to bloom.

Not when his breath stopped the second she arrived, and he knew, he knew that it was her. He was looking at his destiny. His soulmate.

But she wasn’t looking at him.

Not when he stood up to greet her, to meet his future with a wide smile and a fresh bouquet of wildflowers just as the shiny, red numbers on his wrist drew closer and closer to zero.

Not when he watched, a distinct sort of dread building in the pit of his stomach, as someone emerged from the opposite side of the garden. He wasn’t carrying wildflowers, but he did hold a single, ruby red rose.

Not when time ticked on, revealing with every steady, agonizing second that this stranger had the same intentions, the same plan.

The same countdown. The same fate.

Not when he watched, motionless, helpless, as this stranger met her first.

Not when he watched in abject horror as both of their faces lit up with smiles. When she took the rose from him with care in her touch and love in her eyes.

Not when he looked down at his own wrist, vision blurring as tears began to gather in his eyes, as bright, shiny red faded to a dull, lifeless gray.

Not when he was a failure, a miscalculation. An unfortunate needle in a haystack of success stories. A glitch.

Not when he watched the woman that was meant to be the love of his life fall into the arms of another man and leave him standing there alone. Lonely. Forgotten.

Not when his fingers began to shake so bad that he couldn’t maintain the grip on the bouquet.

Wildflowers stained the earth beneath him in a garish array of too bright colors, and he knew, even then, that part of his heart would be left there to die, too.

Even now, in the seat across from you in the cafe, you can see the toll it takes on him.

So you strain for a fragment of twisted comfort in the only way you know how. A reassurance that this particular cruelty is not his alone. That somehow, in an unlikely twist of fate, your paths crossed.

Laying your left arm on the table between you, you slowly drag the bottom of your sleeve up. Only an inch. And only for a moment.

It’s not a lot. Against the tides of his own agony, it’s nothing at all. But for now, it’s enough.

…..

There’s an odd sort of balance, a distinct sense of comfort that comes from the simple act of understanding. Of being understood.

It’s not quite as easy, as lighthearted as it was before, but you and Jungwon are quick to fall into a new kind of simple rhythm with one another. One that saves space for the intricacies of your shared pain and shame while still keeping them at an arm’s distance.

It’s not solace. But it is something.

You’re off tiptoes and on solid ground. For the first time in your life, you don’t feel the need to constantly check the length of your left sleeve. At least, not when you’re with him. You don’t have to pretend that it doesn’t hurt to sit through hours of lectures on soulmate theory every week.

You don't have to explain any of it. Jungwon just gets it. He already knows.

But when you meet him for your next Thursday study session, two coffees in hand, Jungwon’s eyes aren’t sparkling with their usual stars. There’s something different there now. A kind of fire you haven’t seen from him before. One that glimmers with determination.

As you slide down into the seat across from him, he skips all pleasantries and says instead, “I think we should switch our project topic.”

It takes a concentrated effort not to knock over the coffee you set down in front of you for the second time in the span of weeks. “What?” At this point, your outline has long been finished and you’re well into writing your report. The thought of changing topics with barely a week left until the submission deadline is absolutely ludicrous. “Why?”

Jungwon doesn’t miss a beat. “I think we should do our project on glitches.”

You recoil as if you’ve been slapped.

Glitch. It’s a word people usually tiptoe around, whisper behind closed doors. Not meant for respectable society and certainly has no place in a university research paper.

You don’t even take a second to consider. “No.”

“What?” Now Jungwon is the one who looks surprised. Brow creasing, he presses. “Why? I mean, we’re both gl–”

“I said no.” You can’t hear him say it again. Features falling, Jungwon’s confusion begins to mingle with hurt at the sound of your sharp rejection. This might not be something that you’re willing to compromise, but your intention was never to hurt him, either.

Sighing, you explain, “Look, I’m just not comfortable with it. Besides, we’ve done so much work on this topic already. It doesn’t make sense to switch so close to the deadline.”

Only a fraction of what you’ve said seems to resonate. After a pregnant pause, Jungwon echoes. “Not… comfortable.” His tone is flat, as if your words are indecipherable to him.

He doesn’t continue, but you can tell that he has more to say. Can sense the words bubbling on his lips, begging to drip from his tongue. This is already a sensitive subject, and it’s made even more so by the way he tiptoes around it.

Across from him, your cross your arms across your chest. “I can tell that you have something else to see.” You don’t mean to be combative, don’t mean to start anything. But annoyance is starting to creep in. It’s dragging dread along with it, like an old friend, like a dangerous reminder.

“It’s nothing.” Jungwon shakes his head. “I guess I just don’t…” He trails off for a moment, deciding how best to tread treacherous territory. “How can you not be comfortable? I mean, you’re a glitch like me. Aren’t you curious at all? About why we glitched? If there’s anything we can do to fix it?”

And there it is. The lingering fear you’ve been working for two long years to overcome. The deep, aching insecurity that beneath it all, this is all your fault. That something is fundamentally wrong with you. “Fix me, you mean.”

Jungwon frowns. “I mean, I guess you could look at it that way, but I’m more curious about what kind of solutions there are.” He presses on, oblivious to the way every word sounds like nails on a chalkboard to you. The way every syllable pierces like a knife against your skin.

He’s not overflowing with hopelessness where he sits across from you. No, he’s enthusiastic as he tells you, “I did some research the other day, actually, and there’s this one scholar who thinks that all glitches happen for a reason. He thinks that you can still meet your soulmate and get your countdown to turn back to red if–”

“Stop.” Your voice is too loud, too sharp, too much, for the scant space of this small room. “Please,” you’re whispering now, but Jungwon flinches all the same. “Just stop.”

Jungwon’s eyebrows draw into a tight furrow. You thought he understood, but he doesn’t. He still doesn’t get it. He tells you as much. “I don’t understand why you’re so against it. I mean, we finally have a chance to look into why we gli–”

“I said, stop.” Jungwon looks as if you’ve pushed him. Dumped ice cold water over his head and left him out to dry.

But now he’s angry, too. There’s an accusation in his words when he says lowly, “I thought you would understand.”

And you do. You know how flowers wither when they’re left to die without any water. You know how love blossoms and blooms and dies all within the span of a single breath. You know what it feels like to carry a constant reminder of your most intimate pain seared into your skin, your soul.

There was a time when you wanted to be fixed, too. When you would have given anything to have a second chance at that day in the park two years ago. When you were sure if you could just do it again, you would walk away with a different fate. A red countdown. A soulmate.

But the longer you spent with your grief, the more you realized that it didn’t matter. The what ifs didn’t matter. The maybes didn’t matter. The almosts didn't’ matter.

You can’t reverse time. You can’t turn back the clock until your countdown glows red again. You don’t get a second chance at that afternoon in the park.

All you get is the life you have now. And you can grieve for what you’ve lost. Part of you always will. But if you spend the rest of your life lingering on it, obsessed with it, trying to fix it, then that’s all your life will be.

You won’t just lose a soulmate. You’ll lose yourself, too.

You’ll lose new friendships and favorite coworkers and every goal and dream you’ve ever had. You’ll lose quiet moments in secluded study rooms, trading smiles and sharing coffee. You’ll lose every shred of happiness in search of something that never really existed.

Sitting here now, across from Jungwon, you’re not just angry. You feel stupid, too. Ridiculous for ever thinking that maybe, just maybe, butterflies bloomed in the pit of his stomach when he looked at you, too.

That maybe, just maybe, when he matched your gaze, your eyes turned ordinary things into starlight, too.

But even with gray on his wrist and pain in his heart, the distance between the two of you has never felt wider.

Jungwon won’t even match your eye now. He aims for the heart instead. “You know, you’re the only person I’ve ever met who I thought would understand. Who knows what it’s like. To lose the only thing in life that really matters.” His voice is small, but it’s teeming with frustration, with misplaced anger. There’s an unmistakable fury in his eyes when he finally lets his gaze land on yours. But you know him now, even better than you thought. You see the pain just as clearly. The confusion, the hurt.

And where he expects to find an apology, or perhaps some sort of agreement, he’s met only with a rage to rival his own.

“Fuck you.” It’s barely decipherable under your breath, but he catches it, even if just barely.

“What?”

You double down. “I said, fuck you, Jungwon. How dare you. You think you’re the only one who’s ever been hurt, the only person that this stupid fucking system screwed over?” And now your anger has been let loose, the floodgates opened. It rises, ebbs and flows like waves against a shore. Weathering over all the sharp pieces and jagged edges that time hasn’t yet managed to erode. Spills over onto the table like his forgotten coffee from weeks ago.

“Why do you think I work at the support center? Why do you think you’ve never seen me in a short sleeve shirt?”

You’re angry and you’re hurting and you understand his pain. But it’s worse this time. You don’t know why his determination to fix his failed soulmate match stings like rejection. You can’t figure out why it burns in a way that’s all too reminiscent of that afternoon in the park two years ago.

You feel it all, under your skin like an itch you can’t scratch, an ache you can’t get rid of. You don’t know why he didn’t just stop when you asked him, why he won’t just listen to you.

“At least you get to wonder what might have happened.” You don’t mean to do it, to throw his hurt back in his face. To compare pain, to stack your scars against one another and measure them like there’s a winner in this game. “I met my soulmate. I met him and talked to him and fell in love with him and he still didn’t want me. It doesn’t matter what some scholar says. You can’t fucking fix that.”

You’re standing before you know it, heading to the door before you mean to. But you can’t stay here, can’t watch him look at you like that. Not when every word that passes between you opens wounds you’ve spent ages trying to clean.

Not when you know that none of it, even the parts you’d hoped you’d remember fondly, were ever done intentionally. He didn’t mean to hurt you. Didn’t mean to give you butterflies or look at you with starlight in his eyes, and that only makes it worse.

You’re already beneath the doorframe when you find it in yourself to add, “You’re hurting and you’re lonely and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You don’t deserve that pain, and you never will. But I refuse to do this again, to spend the rest of my life thinking there’s something wrong with me. That it’s my fault, that I can fix everything, fix myself, if I just try hard enough. My matched glitched.” You still can’t quite say the word without flinching. “I’m a glitch. But I refuse to let that be the only thing I am.”

When the door shuts behind you, it echoes, even in the crowded hallway.

Your footsteps feel too heavy as they eat up the ground between you and the front door of the library. The late autumn air feels too cold as you walk back to your dorm, enveloped in the quiet of the evening, mind screaming with misplaced rage.

The silence of your dorm room is too loud as you sit alone in it.

And the mark on your wrist is too gray, no matter how you look at it.

…..

Jungwon is antsy.

Even with the space of a day between him and your argument, he’s brimming with a sort of uncontained energy that will only spell trouble if he doesn’t find a way to channel it.

Taekwondo practice helps, albeit only slightly. Physically, at least, it grounds him. There’s a solace to be found in the repetitive motion of his well aimed kicks.

He welcomes the familiar ache in his muscles like an old friend, sweat building on his brow as he lets the calm, flowing energy guide his powerful movements.

But even after two hours on the mat and a long, overly warm shower, Jungwon’s thoughts are still spinning in circles, still doing cartwheels through his mind. He needs to talk, needs to process everything that’s happened, everything that he’s feeling.

But save for one person, he’s not sure who to go to.

It’s then, the last member of his team still towelling off in the locker room, that he realizes that under any other circumstance, the first person that he would want to reach out to, to spill his heart and guts and soul out to, is you.

It’s been weeks, a handful of days, a smattering of hours, since you became a name in his mind. A person with an identity other than the pretty girl that sits in the sixth row of the lecture hall, and yet.

And yet.

Jungwon is suddenly overcome with the urge to reach for his phone, to send a message, make a phone call. His better judgement stops him before he can.

Mostly because he has no idea what he would say. An apology is in order, surely. He still sees the look on your face against the backs of his eyelids. The way pain etched itself into your features, the way your shoulders never quite relaxed after he suggested the topic change on your project.

He’s not sure if this is even something that can be remedied with words, but he is absolutely certain that he never wants to see that look on your face again.

So an apology it is, then. But for what, exactly?

If he’s honest with himself, he still doesn’t fully understand.

He let his anger, his frustration, his pain get the best of him, yes, but it was more than that. He’s not sure why you seemed so personally affected by the idea of exploring research around soulmate glitches. Why that word seemed to eat at you so much.

So he lets his confusion carry him to the only place where he thinks he just might find an answer.

The Student Support Center looks different in the daytime. Jungwon still feels that nagging sense of discomfort as he forces his feet through the front door.

His shame feels most prominent here, in a place where admitting that he needs help still feels like weakness to him.

Swallowing his pride, he forces his footsteps forward. The desk he found you at a handful of night ago is empty. But the one next to it is occupied with another student, a boy. One that looks a couple of years older than you, if he had to guess.

He smiles when he sees Jungwon, offering a generic greeting before he takes another look at him.

Jake, he thinks it must be, if your descriptions are anything to go by. Another person that Jungwon has begun to become familiar with in the past few weeks, albeit only by your secondhand account.

And you must have done the same for him, because Jake is quick to mask his shock with something careful, guarded.

“Hi,” he repeats, standing from her seat. “I’m Jake.” Looking him over once more, something akin to a sigh escapes his lips. “You must be Jungwon.”

Jake, as it turns out, is surprisingly easy to talk to. He understands why you like him so much.

In a matter of minutes, a fairly abridged version of your last library session has been reconstructed, laid bare in front of eyes that know you best.

Jake is silent for a moment, turning over thoughts in his mind before he finally says, “It’s not my story to tell.” Jungwon figured as much. “But I think she would, if you asked.”

Jungwon nods. It’s permission. From an indirect source, maybe, but hope flutters through his chest all the same. He has a goal now, something to work towards. Something that he hopes will fix whatever has shattered between the two of you.

There’s a brief pause before Jake speaks again. “What I can say is that she’s done a lot of work to move on. To find meaning in her life outside of the number on her wrist. To stop feeling incomplete, like a burden, like a problem to be solved.”

And I threw those fears back in her face, Jungwon realizes, something twisting unpleasantly in his gut.

The despair must play out on his features, because Jake is gentle when he says, “I won’t pretend to know what it’s like, but I do know how it feels to grieve for what could have been. It’s easier, sometimes, I think, to let that consume you. To spend your life trying to get as close to that lost future as you can, even though you know it will never be quite right. Even though you know you’re chasing ghosts.”

Jake folds his hands across his lap, lacing his fingers together.

“She made the decision to let those ghosts rest, to let that part of her life go. To find something else worth living for instead. For the small moments, maybe. For joy, for love. All those things that she still gets to feel.”

That you still get to feel. Jake doesn’t say it, but Jungwon hears it all the same.

“Those things that nothing, not even fate, gets to take away.”

Jungwon glances down at his wrist. It’s covered, but he can feel the ever present weight of it. Of the gray mark that he knows, deep down, will never fade. Will never change.

And for the first time in a long time, that truth doesn’t feel quite so heavy.

“I…” Jungwon isn’t sure how to wrap his gratitude in words. “Thank you.” For telling him. For helping you. For being here. “For all of it.”

“Of course.” Jake smiles. Lets his fingers fall to his sides as he stands, brushing invisible dust from his lap. “Joy is even better when it’s shared, no?”

Joy is even better when it’s shared.

For the first time in a long time, Jungwon smiles. A real smile, a face-splitting, toothy, uncontrollably wide smile. One that hurts his cheeks and reaches all the way to his eyes.

It’s still there when he’s walking back to his dorm.

It’s still there when he sits down at his desk, reaching for his computer and turning on the last playlist he was listening to earlier, just for something to fill the silence.

After a handful of moments, a familiar melody begins to lilt through his speaker.

Clair de Lune. It’s a tune he would know anywhere. It reminds him of moonlight, of starlight, and everything in between. It reminds him of long study sessions and stolen glances and tentative whispers.

It makes him smile even harder.

Looking at the computer in front of him, Jungwon thinks fate just might be a tangible thing.

He feels it in the back of his throat first and then the base of his nose. The telltale stinging sensations that always comes at the first sign of tears.

He lets it. Welcomes it. Allows them to fall.

Alone in his room, hard, long sobs wrack his entire body and leave him gasping for air. Sorrow and grief and anger and joy all tangled together in one.

Because Jungwon is done mourning himself, the ghost of a life that has haunted him for the last year. The future that was never his to begin with. The weight of possibilities that time cannot undo, that sheer will alone cannot change.

Joy is even better when it’s shared.

And he thinks he’ll start with himself.

…..

The knock on your front door is unexpected. And it comes just too late at night for you to feel comfortable opening it without a second thought. Footsteps padding as silently as possible towards the entrance to your dorm, you run through the short list of people you think could possibly be knocking at your door at this hour and come up blank.

Against your better judgement, you undo the latch, opening the door slowly as if that will be enough to deter any unwanted visitors.

Thankfully, the sliver of space doesn’t reveal a threat. But it does have your brow furrowing in confusion.

“Jungwon? How did you–”

Explanations for how he found your address are not at the top of his priority list. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, words tumbling out all at once. “I don’t…” A pained expression crosses his features. “I’m not good with words, and I don’t always know what the best thing to say is, but I’m sorry. I never should have said those things about you, about us. I – we’re not glitches.” He pauses, frowning. “I mean, we are, but that’s okay. We’re okay. There’s nothing to fix, and I’m sorry that I made it sound like I think otherwise.”

He trails off again, jaw working as he swallows the lump in his throat. “I… You have to know that I think the absolute world of you, ___. I would never, ever want to say or do something that makes you think otherw–oof.”

Jungwon’s words die with the sudden impact of your head against his chest, arms wrapping tight around his torso. Shock renders him immobile, just for a moment, before he’s melting into your touch. Returning your embrace as his arms twine around your back, fingers settling against your spine.

It’s all there, wrapped up in this moment. A solid foundation. A warm place to land. Things that futures can be built upon. Things that can breathe life into possibilities, into almosts, into maybes.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and it’s lost somewhere against the skin of his neck.

“For what?”

“For everything you said.” You melt a little further into him, and Jungwon hopes that he never has to move. “For being here.”

You mean it. He knows it.

He lets his cheek rest against the crown of your head. You feel the movement of his jaw when he tells you, “It’s the only place I wanted to be.”

He means it. You know it.

…..

epilogue.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You know,” Jungwon rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his lips, too. “The more you keep asking that question, the less inclined I am to answer it.”

Huffing, you argue. “We’ve been walking for thirty minutes.” With still no destination in sight, mind you. “Don’t I deserve some kind of explanation.”

“That’s what the coffee was for.” Jungwon’s smile turns into a grin, one of those real ones that lights up his eyes. That has starlight reflecting in them. One that has you returning a smile o your own, despite your complaints. “To distract you from the physical labor.”

“Well, we can’t all be on the taekwondo team.”

Jungown just rolls his eyes again. “We’re almost there. I promise.”

And despite it all, you believe him. Because it’s been six months since you were first assigned as project partners and nearly two since your shared class ended. And he’s still here. Still a permanent fixture in your life. Still responsible for so many moments you’ve come to look forward to, so many memories you know you’ll cherish forever.

Because despite the gray numbers on your wrists, you’re both dressed for the activity. It’s nearing winter now, but it’s unseasonably warm. With the physical exertion included, it’s weather that calls for short sleeves.

Because there’s no one else you’d walk thirty minutes towards an undisclosed location for.

Because there’s no one else that understands you the way he does, not just from shared circumstances, but also as a result of effort. Of honest conversations and the genuine desire to listen. To learn you. To know you like the back of his hand.

Because to him, you’re just you. A person capable of joy and anger and grief and love and all of the beautiful, wonderful, messy things that comes with being a human. You’re not a failure, not something to fix. Your identity isn’t constrained to the gray mark on your wrist.

Because you think you might love him for it.

Because you know that you do.

And when you finally arrive at the small neighborhood park ten minutes later, the only thing you’re thinking about is how beautiful the lake looks bathed in the glow of afternoon sunlight.

Later, sprawled on a picnic blanket underneath the shade of an old sycamore tree, overlooking that same lake, you’ll turn to him and whisper some nonsense about recent studies claiming that soulmates often find each other surrounded by nature. Particularly in the presence of a body of water.

Jungwon will roll his eyes, will brush a strand of hair away from your forehead while he tells you that he doesn’t care, that it doesn’t matter, that it’s all a bunch of nonsense anyway.

His smile will be soft, as he hands you the small makeshift bouquet of wildflowers you hadn’t noticed him collecting on your journey here. You’ll tuck your favorite one behind your ear before you lean back against his chest.

And it will feel a little bit like coming home, like resting after a long day, like basking in the first rays of sunshine as winter finally releases its grip on the world and blooms into a glorious spring when he intertwines his fingers with yours and whispers against the shell of your ear that he thinks you’re beautiful.

Fate is a funny thing, you’ll think as his breath tickles the skin of your neck, sends a shiver down the length of your spine.

And no matter how many nights we’ve spent berating it, cursing it, resenting it, I’ll always be glad that it has led us to this. Or maybe, you’ll wonder as he presses a gentle kiss to the curve of your cheekbone, the space between your eyebrows.

Maybe we led it. Grabbed fate by the collar and forced it to bend to our whims like that masters of destiny we are.

Whatever it may be, I’m glad that it brought me here.

To joy. To love.

And most of all, to you.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed. As always, I love hearing your thoughts. All the best ♡♡

#jungwon fanfiction #jungwon fanfic #jungwon x you #jungwon x reader #jungwon angst #jungwon fluff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen fanfic #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff

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kthicegraphics · 2 days ago

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Taehyung Minimalist Wallpapers

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youthguk · 3 days ago

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✦ Encore | jjk (m) ✦

pairing: idol! jungkook x editor! reader

genre: smut, ex lovers, second chance au, angst with smut, toxic ex au

summary: You loved him before the lights, before the headlines, before he learned how to disappear.Now he’s back — older, hotter, famous — and this time, you’re the one calling the shots. But Jeon Jungkook doesn’t do endings. Only encores.

w.c: 10k

author's note: writing and creating stories takes a lot of time, and no matter how much i love doing this and jungkook, i would love your support and feedback 🖤

You’ve always known how to keep secrets. It’s a requirement—the requirement—of survival in an industry that trades on whispers, scandals, and carefully curated lies. Fashion is ruthless, a pretty monster wearing designer heels, and no one understands that better than you.

Two years of blood, sweat, and designer tears later, you've earned your throne at Vogue Korea. A glass-walled office overlooking Seoul's constellation of lights, your name etched in gold next to campaigns that make lesser editors weep with envy. You didn't just climb the ladder; you conquered it in six-inch heels.

They call you the Ice Queen of Editorial. Untouchable. Unshakeable. The woman who can stare down Korea's biggest idols without so much as a flutter of mascara-coated lashes. Your boundaries aren't just lines in the sand—they're walls of steel and glass, keeping your personal life locked away where it belongs.

You’ve been handed the crown jewel of assignments: the exclusive BTS cover story.

The kind of story that turns editors into legends. Or ruins them completely.

“You must be feeling the pressure,” Hyerin teases, nudging your elbow as you both stand by the studio coffee station. “If I had to face seven of the most beautiful men on Earth, I’d probably collapse.”

You smile lightly, perfectly controlled. “Luckily, fainting isn’t part of my job description.”

Hyerin laughs, tossing her silky hair back. “You’re seriously not nervous? Not even a little?”

Before you can respond, another voice cuts in—cool and sharp as glass.

“Y/N’s never nervous,” Kara says smoothly, sidling up with a carefully constructed smile. Her eyes skim over your perfectly ironed blouse, searching for any flaw she can exploit. “Even when she probably should be.”

You meet her stare evenly. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s just another day at work.”

“Oh, sure,” Kara shrugs, delicately adjusting her blazer. “Just the biggest magazine cover of the year. With the biggest K-pop group in history. But you’re right—no pressure at all.”

You hold your tongue, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. Kara’s smile widens, eyes glittering dangerously.

“Don’t worry,” she says softly. “We’re all rooting for you.”

As she walks away, Hyerin gives you a sympathetic glance. “Ignore her. She’s just mad they picked you.”

“She’ll get over it,” you say calmly, taking a sip of coffee. But privately, you wonder if she ever will. Kara’s eyes feel permanently locked on your back, waiting for you to slip—and she’d love nothing more than to watch you fall.

You breathe deeply, shaking off the brief flash of anxiety. Kara isn’t your problem today.

Your problem just walked through the studio doors.

You straighten your shoulders, lift your chin, and mask your pounding heart beneath layers of polished composure.

You feel Jungkook’s presence before you see him. Hear the chatter ripple across the set, feel the shift in the air. Turning slowly, you catch sight of him walking toward makeup, tTattooed fingers, midnight hair, confident smile charming everyone in his orbit.

He hasn’t noticed you yet, but your pulse already quickens. You haven’t been face-to-face since he vanished from your life years ago, choosing fame over what you once shared. Not even your closest colleagues know about your past—not Hyerin, certainly not Kara. To them, you’re the girl who can handle any celebrity without batting an eye.

But Jungkook isn’t just any celebrity. He’s your first heartbreak. Your only weakness.

And the moment his eyes find yours across the room, his casual smile fading into something raw and hungry, you realize secrets never stay hidden forever.

Not when every glance he sends your way feels like a promise—Encore. We’re not done yet.

Your breath catches painfully in your throat, stomach twisting into a knot so tight it leaves you dizzy. For all your polished composure, the sight of Jungkook still manages to unravel you like loose threads on a designer gown.

Seeing him again feels like reopening a wound you spent years pretending had healed. It floods you with memories you'd promised yourself to forget—quiet nights tangled in sheets, whispered promises that felt unbreakable, how he used to hold you as if you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched.

But then came the silence. Slow at first, then deafening. A text left unread, calls unanswered. You waited like a fool, convinced something must've happened, sure he’d reach out again and say everything was fine. But days turned into weeks, then months, and eventually you stopped counting—stopped waiting.

He'd left you in a silence louder than any goodbye could've been.

It still haunts you, that hollow uncertainty. All those unanswered questions, the ache of wondering why you hadn't been enough—why something that had been your entire world had apparently meant so little to him.

Even now, standing across a crowded room from him, you feel nineteen again, confused and heartbroken, questioning yourself: Was it you? Was it fame? Or was he just that good at faking forever?

Your hands tremble slightly, and you quickly clasp them behind your back, steadying your breath, forcing your expression back into neutrality. You are not that girl anymore. You're not nineteen, naive and waiting.

You're the woman who clawed her way up the ladder, who built herself from the ground up, and who refuses to be unraveled by Jeon Jungkook ever again.

Yet, as his gaze locks onto yours and his expression shifts—something fragile breaking beneath the confident mask—you realize you might not have a choice.

You're the woman who clawed her way up the ladder, who built herself from the ground up, and who refuses to be unraveled by Jeon Jungkook ever again.

You grit your teeth, straightening your posture defiantly. No, you're not going to fall apart because he decided to show up now, years later. It doesn’t matter how familiar his gaze still feels, or how your stomach flips traitorously when his eyes linger a second too long. It’s just shock, you reason. The surprise of seeing someone from your past. He means nothing now. He can’t mean anything—not after he left you drowning in unanswered questions.

And yet, as his gaze locks onto yours and his expression shifts—something fragile breaking beneath the confident mask—you shove down the dangerous impulse fluttering inside you.

Because you won’t allow it. Not today. Not ever.

But Jungkook tilts his head slightly, eyes darkening with an intensity you know too well, and you feel your carefully constructed resolve begin to tremble at the edges.

It doesn’t matter, you remind yourself harshly. You’ll never make the same mistake twice. Not for Jungkook. Not for anyone.

Still, the moment he takes a step toward you, your heart skips—just once.

And you hate yourself for it.

And it’s terrifying how much your body still reacts, how tightly your stomach knots, how you feel yourself leaning backward without meaning to. You don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing.

But just before he can get closer—

“Jungkook! Manager wants you in the briefing room, now!”

The shout cuts across the set, snapping him back to reality.

He hesitates. A small shift of weight. A flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Then he turns, walking toward the exit without another glance.

You make yourself go still, expression smooth, breath finally releasing.

He’s gone again.

And you hate how that emptiness still lingers in the space he almost crossed.

✦

The studio smelled like caffeine, expensive cologne, and urgency.

Light rigs hummed above, shifting shadows across white backdrops. Stylists darted like bees between racks of designer coats and racks of idols. The floor was a mosaic of garment bags, wires, coffee cups, and carefully controlled chaos.

And you were in the eye of the storm.

Clipboards. Checklists. The shoot brief folded neatly in your tote, annotated with sharp red edits. You’d been here since seven. Confirming the team, adjusting the timeline after a last-minute delivery delay, nodding politely through the photographer’s temper tantrum over lighting angles.

Professional. Polished. In control.

Just like always.

“I’ll need the group on set in twenty,” you told Hyerin as you skimmed the latest schedule, your voice calm despite the pressure gnawing at your ribs. “Can we get final approval on the beige Balenciaga set for the third look? The stylist’s still undecided.”

Hyerin nodded, phone already raised to send the message.

And then—

A ripple in the room. Nothing visible at first. Just a shift. The kind that presses into your skin before you understand what’s happening. Like the barometric pressure dropping before a storm.

You didn’t have to turn. You knew.

BTS had arrived. This time, fully.

Voices lifted across the space. Polite bows, excited murmurs, stylists practically vibrating. You focused on your clipboard, eyes locked on the line that read: Group cover, final set — standing profile + seated variation.

You could feel it before you saw him. Like a magnet realigning in your chest.

Jeon Jungkook.

He wasn’t supposed to matter. Not anymore. Not here.

You glanced up once—only for a second—and there he was.

Dark hair, slightly damp. A black oversized tee clinging to his frame like it had no choice. Tattoos curling down his arm like vines. He was talking to one of the stylists, something easy in his body, but then—

His eyes found yours. Again.

And froze. As if the moment before seemed unbelievable to him, and now he got a confirmation that it was truly you who he saw before.

For one suspended moment, the studio blurred. Sound dulled. All you could hear was the low pulse in your ears, thudding like memory. His gaze didn’t flicker. Didn’t flinch.

It lingered.

You turned away first.

Professional, you reminded yourself. You could breathe later.

Behind you, a quiet voice laced with syrup and venom sliced through the air. “Well, don’t you look composed.”

Kara.

You didn’t bother turning. Her heels clicked as she approached, each step full of intention.

“I’d be shaking,” she continued, feigning casual amusement. “If he looked at me like that.”

Your clipboard didn’t move.

“I don’t mix work with fantasy,” you said coolly.

Kara laughed, bright and biting. “Right. Of course. You’re very composed.”

Before you could answer, the studio door opened wider, and the rest of the crew flooded in behind the members. Lights adjusted. Cables plugged. The moment passed.

But your stomach? Still twisted.

You didn’t have time for this. Not the memories. Not the questions. Not the way your breath still stumbled just because he was in the same room.

You walked across the set with quick, clean steps, addressing the camera assistant. You didn’t look at him again.

You didn’t need to.

Because suddenly, he was walking toward you.

You caught it in your peripheral—the blur of black, the low timbre of his voice as he murmured a polite greeting to the stylist he passed. He was smiling, charming, textbook idol.

But he was walking toward you.

And you didn’t move.

Behind him, Taehyung tilted his head, brows subtly furrowing.

“Where’s he going?” he murmured to Jimin, his voice low enough not to carry.

Jimin looked up from his water bottle, following the path of Jungkook’s steps.

“Who is that—” He paused. Squinted.

His expression shifted slowly.

“No way,” he muttered. “Is that… Y/N?”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed as he got a better look.

“Damn,” he said under his breath. “She really changed.”

“She doesn’t look like a college student anymore,” Jimin added, then whistled low. “She looks like she’d step on your throat for blinking at the wrong moment.”

Taehyung snorted. “And Jungkook’s walking straight toward her like it’s nothing.”

Jimin’s smile faded a little. “It’s not nothing.”

They exchanged a glance.

One of quiet recognition.

One that said: This is going to get complicated.

Jungkook stopped just close enough for it to be plausible. Two colleagues. Two professionals. A friendly exchange in the middle of a crowded set.

But you felt the heat of him at your side. The static in the air between your bodies. The weight of five years in the space between his next breath and your silence.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said.

His voice was lower now. Smooth, familiar. Dangerous.

You kept your eyes on the call sheet in your hands.

“Then maybe you should’ve read your shoot brief.”

He let out a quiet, amused exhale. “Guess I was distracted.”

You finally turned to face him, slow and deliberate.

He looked at you like you were a memory he wanted to taste again. And you hated how much you felt it in your knees.

“Still pretending I don’t exist?” he asked softly.

You smiled—polite, cold.

“You’re not that hard to ignore.”

He tilted his head, amused. “You used to say I was impossible to forget.”

You didn’t blink. “People change.”

Something flickered behind his eyes. The smile dimmed, only slightly.

And you hated that it made your chest ache.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “They do.”

You stepped back first. Not because you were retreating—but because if you stayed, you’d say something you’d regret.

“We’re about to start,” you said, voice crisp. “Please get into wardrobe.”

He didn’t argue. But his gaze lingered like the brush of fingers on skin—something remembered. Something unfinished.

You turned on your heel and walked away.

And behind you, Jungkook watched like he was seeing something he thought he'd lost forever.

You walk with your back straight, spine stiff, each click of your heels against the polished floor louder than the last. The studio spins in a blur around you—shutters firing, stylists buzzing, interns darting past—but your body moves like it’s on autopilot.

You don’t look back.

You don’t need to see him to feel the weight of his stare still pressing into your skin, hot and searching. Your lungs burn quietly, your heart hammering beneath the silk of your blouse in a rhythm that doesn’t belong to a woman in control.

You handled that well, you tell yourself. He didn’t rattle you. Not really. It was nothing—just a greeting. Just a ghost in designer boots. You didn’t flinch.

But your fingers still tremble as you slide the clipboard into your bag. And his scent—faint on the air, sandalwood and heat—lingers like a bruise.

That voice. That voice you used to fall asleep to.

He said so little, but it was too much. Too soft. Too knowing. Too close to the edge of the past you buried under ambition and late-night edits and deadlines that couldn’t be missed. A past that still knows exactly how to make your mouth dry and your pulse quicken.

You exhale through your nose, slow and tight, pressing your thumb into your palm until it stings.

This isn’t college. This isn’t your bedroom at 3 a.m. waiting for his text. You are not that girl anymore.

And he doesn’t get to reach into your life now just because he remembered how to say your name.

Across the studio, a pair of eyes followed your every step.

Kara leaned against a lighting rig, one arm crossed lazily over her chest, a paper cup of overpriced coffee in hand. She wasn’t watching the shoot, not really. Her gaze was fixed on you—your clenched jaw, your too-smooth posture, the slight tremble in your fingers as you adjusted your sleeve.

Her lips curled just barely at the edges.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

She just sipped her coffee and tilted her head thoughtfully, like a girl already collecting dots to connect.

And when her eyes flicked over to Jungkook, now slipping into wardrobe, and then back to you—

Something in her expression sharpened.

She had nothing solid. Not yet.

But Kara had always known how to smell blood long before the wound appeared.

✦

The shoot was already in full swing by the time you were called in.

High-key lighting flared against the matte white backdrop as the photographer directed the rest of the group into place. Jungkook hadn’t shot his solos yet — he’d been saved for last, as if they all knew the best tension builds slowly.

You were reviewing proofs on a monitor when the stylist approached you, breathless and mid-hustle.

“Sorry, Y/N—can you approve the jewelry for Jungkook’s third look? We’ve got the options prepped, but he wants to wear the chain without layering.” She didn't wait for a full answer, already turning back. “He’s in the fitting room.”

You don’t hesitate. Don’t sigh. You just nod once and follow, clipboard in hand, pulse tucked neatly beneath your professionalism.

It’s just another detail. Another decision. You’ve approved a hundred accessories today already.

But you haven’t approved him.

The fitting area isn’t private. Just a curtained nook off the main set, half-lit by dressing bulbs and cluttered with half-dressed mannequins and hangers heavy with sponsored silk.

And he’s there when you slip inside. Shirtless.

Silver chain dangling from his fingers, tattoos curling down his arm like they belong to a different man than the boy you once knew.

He looks over his shoulder the moment he hears you enter. His lips curve slowly, like this is a scene he’s played in his head a thousand times already.

“Oh,” he says. “They sent you.”

You don’t react. You’re too tired for games and too exposed for softness.

“Only because the chain needs editorial sign-off,” you say coolly.

He turns to face you fully, unhurried. Like the air between you isn’t thick enough to choke on.

“Then by all means,” he murmurs, offering the necklace like a dare, “approve me.”

You step forward without flinching, though every part of you wants to be somewhere—anywhere—else. The chain is cool in your palm. His hand is warm. The heat of his body radiates as you move into his space, standing just close enough to clasp the piece around his bare neck.

His skin smells like cologne and memory. Like summer and sweat and one a.m. phone calls you’ll never get back.

You keep your eyes down. Your fingers are steady as you drape the chain across his collarbones, lock it into place behind his neck.

He watches you in the mirror. Doesn’t blink.

“Still pretending I don’t affect you?” he asks, low enough that no one outside this curtain will ever hear.

You don’t look at him. Don’t let him win.

“You’re not that hard to ignore.”

He laughs, soft and sharp. It brushes the side of your cheek like smoke.

“Liar.”

You step back. One clean motion. No hesitation.

Your eyes scan the chain against his chest. Simple. Effective. Professional.

“It works,” you say.

He’s still looking at you. Not with smugness now, but something quieter. Studying the way your arms stay crossed. The way your voice never shakes, even when your throat does.

“You always liked this one,” he says, tapping the charm. “You said it made me look dangerous.”

“That was a long time ago.”

His smile shifts. “You still look at me like it’s not.”

You leave before you can answer. Let the curtain fall shut behind you like a closing door.

And you don’t breathe again until you’re halfway down the hallway.

The bathroom is cold and sterile and mercifully empty.

You close the door behind you, flip the lock, and let your clipboard fall to the counter with a dull clatter.

It’s only then—only then—that your shoulders drop.

Your hands brace against the sink, breath coming out in one sharp exhale like it’s been trapped under your ribs since you walked into that fitting room. Your reflection in the mirror is still composed, still precise… but your eyes are too bright, and your skin is too warm, and the chain you touched is still clinging to your fingertips like a memory you can’t scrub off.

You run cold water, splash your wrists, press your fingers to your temples.

Get a grip.

This is work. He is work.

You’ve survived far worse than being this close to someone who once knew how to love you. Who once made you believe it would last.

You’re not that girl anymore.

You fix your lipstick. Smooth your blouse.

By the time you unlock the door and step back into the hallway, your expression is perfect again.

As if nothing ever touched you.

The studio has thinned to a skeleton crew.

Light rigs now buzz on low. Laptops closed, garment bags zipped, coffee cups abandoned on carts. A few stylists linger in quiet conversations by the exit, voices hushed with the kind of fatigue that only comes after a perfect shot.

You’re alone in the hallway just outside the dressing area, waiting for the final export to transfer. The hum of the hard drive beside you is the only sound. The air smells like cold metal and the ghost of sweat.

It’s a clean ending. You did your job. No mistakes. No slips.

And yet.

You hear the footsteps before you see him—slow, deliberate, not echoing loud but close. You don’t need to turn. You already know.

“Didn’t think you’d still be here,” Jungkook says, voice low behind you.

You glance over your shoulder. He’s out of wardrobe now, in a simple hoodie and sweats, hair still slightly damp from styling. His tattoos are half-hidden under the sleeves, but his eyes are all sharp edge and unfinished business.

You straighten. “Waiting on a drive.”

He nods, steps closer. Not too close. Just enough.

“They left in a rush,” he says. “Didn’t even say goodbye.”

You know he’s not talking about the team.

You exhale slowly. “It was a long day.”

“Right.” A pause. “You always were good at making things efficient.”

You turn fully now, facing him with that expression you’ve perfected—the cool editor, the one no one questions.

“Did you need something, Jungkook?”

His tongue rests against the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “I need to know why you’re acting like we didn’t matter.”

The words land heavy. No pretense. No smirk. Just a quiet ache, sharpened by guilt.

You blink once. Slowly.

“Because you acted like we didn’t,” you say.

The silence between you stretches. Presses.

You see it hit him—full in the chest. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t flinch.

“I didn’t know how to end it,” he says finally. “Back then. I was selfish.”

“You were a coward.” Your voice stays even, but your throat burns. “You could’ve called. Texted. Anything. But you just disappeared.”

“I thought it would be easier if I let you hate me.”

You scoff, almost laugh. “Easier for who?”

He steps closer. This time it’s too close. Close enough to smell his skin again, to feel the heat rolling off him like static. The hallway is dim now. Only emergency lights glowing soft along the floorboards.

“I still remember everything,” he says.

Your heart stutters. You hate it.

“I remember your old apartment. That shitty mattress on the floor. How you used to cry when you couldn’t finish an article.” He pauses, voice softening. “The way you’d fall asleep against my chest like you belonged there.”

You stare at him. Frozen. Your breath is stuck somewhere just below your ribs.

He leans in—just a fraction. Not touching. But the air between your mouths is electric.

“Do you remember any of it?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

You do.

Of course you do.

But you don’t give him that.

Instead, you tilt your head and say, evenly:

“You’re five years too late.”

You walk away before he can see the tremble in your hands.

And behind you, Jungkook doesn't call after you.

He just stands in the hallway, quiet and still, like he’s afraid of how much he still wants to follow.

✦

The suite smells like charcoal-grilled meat and takeout beer. The shoot’s over. The glamor is gone.

They’ve all crammed into Namjoon’s apartment for a late dinner, half-unwinding, half-rehashing the chaos of the day. Yoongi’s in the corner scrolling on his phone. Jin’s talking over everyone about how the lighting made him look “unfairly youthful.” But Jungkook hasn’t touched his food.

He’s nursing a beer. And he hasn’t said more than a few words all night.

Taehyung notices first.

“You good?” he asks, lazily tossing a cushion at him from across the couch.

Jungkook doesn’t look up. “Yeah.”

Jimin lifts an eyebrow. “You’ve been zoning out since we left the studio.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then Jungkook exhales and runs a hand through his hair.

“She was really there.”

Jin, mid-chew, frowns. “Who?”

Jungkook glances at the ceiling, leans back, eyes unfocused.

“Y/N.”

The name still tastes strange in his mouth.

“She’s… she was our editorial lead. For the cover.”

Yoongi finally looks up. “Seriously?”

“She didn’t even flinch,” Jungkook mutters. “Like I never existed.”

Namjoon gives him a long look. “You expected a welcome hug?”

“No,” Jungkook says, quieter. “I don’t know what I expected. But not… that.”

He thinks of the way she stood—straight-backed, calm, like she’d stripped him from her system entirely. He thinks of her voice. How carefully detached it was. You’re five years too late.The line replays in his chest like a lyric.

“She looked good,” Jungkook says after a pause. “Better than before.”

“Better without you,” Yoongi says flatly.

Jungkook doesn’t reply.

Taehyung sighs, sitting up. “It’s insane that you’re surprised. You ghosted her while fucking your way through rookie girl groups.”

“I didn’t—” Jungkook winces. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like that.”

“But it did,” Namjoon says, voice firm. “You left her. And you never gave her a real goodbye. You just vanished.”

Jimin shifts, arms crossed. “You think she forgot? That she sat around waiting while you made headlines with girls you didn’t even text back?”

“I was overwhelmed,” Jungkook snaps, frustration leaking out. “We were finally being notice, I was twenty, the world was on fire—”

“And she was in the middle of it with you,” Taehyung cuts in. “Until you acted like she was a phase you could leave behind.”

That shuts him up.

Jungkook stares at the label on his bottle. His jaw ticks.

“She looked right through me today,” he says quietly. “Like I never touched her. Like she doesn’t still exist in my head every fucking day.”

Silence falls over the room.

Then Jin sighs and pats his shoulder. “Well. Maybe now you know how it felt.”

✦

You hold the final print like it owes you something.

Not just a paycheck. Not just another spread to fill your portfolio. But proof that you belong here.

Vogue Korea – October Issue. The one everyone wanted to work on. And you got it.

The paper stock is matte heavyweight — no gloss, no gimmick. The cover design minimal: just the group’s name in clean serif and the issue title in metallic foil, whispering luxury. Echoes of the Future.

You flip through the pages like you haven’t already memorized the entire layout. But it still hits. The gravity. The precision. The power of it.

Each editorial frame is stripped to its bones — no backdrops, no props, no distractions. Just symmetry, shadowplay, and seven of the most photographed men in the world, captured like you’ve never seen them before.

Jimin in sharp Céline tailoring, wet hair pushed off his forehead, lips parted like he’s about to ruin someone. Namjoon in a crisp Ferragamo overcoat and nothing underneath. Minimal styling. Maximum command. Taehyung draped in silk Givenchy, silver rings on every finger, a single brow arched like a dare. Yoongi — Gucci and attitude. Seated. Unbothered. A king tired of his throne. Jin in a Bottega turtleneck with sculptural shoulders, the kind of silhouette only he could make feel warm. Hoseok’s frame wrapped in a monochrome Rick Owens layered set, gaze tilted away from camera — like he knows you’re looking. And Jungkook. Front and center. Mugler suit. Bare chest. One silver chain. Wet strands falling over his brow, a half-smirk caught between innocence and provocation.

You chose that shot. Pushed for it. It’s not about sex. It’s about control. Power. Presence.

There’s no overstyling. No theatrics. Just tension. The kind that doesn’t need words.

When you close the issue and step into the elevator of the JW Marriott rooftop lounge, your reflection catches in the mirror: off-the-shoulder Alaïa column dress in black crepe, Louboutin heels, lips painted the exact shade of silent danger.

You look expensive. Untouchable. Editorial.

Exactly how you planned it.

The party has already started by the time you arrive — hosted in the private event wing, high above Seoul’s skyline. Dim, golden lighting. Smooth jazz threaded with ambient house. Crystal glasses passed by silent staff in Tom Ford uniforms. Everyone here is someone.

Vogue doesn’t just launch a cover — it celebrates it. Especially one this anticipated. Especially when the entire campaign broke engagement records before it hit print.

And when the subject is BTS? The fashion world watches. So tonight isn’t just a party. It’s an affirmation. For the magazine. For the editorial team. For you.

You float through it with your usual ease — nodding to the creative director from Boucheron, chatting with the head of marketing from Dior Beauty, accepting compliments on the issue from half the room without blinking.

Until someone mentions it.

“Did you hear BTS might actually show tonight?”

You don’t flinch. Not externally.

You just let the champagne touch your lips and smile like it doesn’t matter.

Like you didn’t already feel the air in the room shift.

Because when you turn your head — just a little, just enough — you see him.

Jeon Jungkook. Walking in through the side entrance, flanked by two staffers and dressed in black-on-black: a Saint Laurent suit jacket left open over a silk shirt, sheer enough to tease the curve of his chest. No tie. Just skin, chain, stare.

He looks different tonight. Not like the idol you edited into iconography. Not like the ghost who haunted your hallway last week.

He looks like a man who came here with a purpose.

And his eyes are already on you.

He looks like a man who came here with a purpose.

And his eyes are already on you.

The others didn’t come.

Namjoon had RSVP’d but sent a polite decline. You’d caught wind of Jimin flying out for a brand shoot in Tokyo. The rest were likely busy or deliberately laying low — as expected.

But he showed up.

Of all people.

You can’t tell if the audacity makes you laugh or bite the rim of your glass harder.

Jungkook doesn’t approach you. Not at first.

You feel his gaze like pressure behind your bare shoulder. But he moves slowly through the room — greets the Vogue team with a bow, gives the photographer a brief, easy hug. Accepts a drink from a server. Ends up near the bar with a woman you vaguely recognize from the Seoul fashion circuit — a model with collarbones sharp enough to cut glass, her dress barely skimming the line of decency.

She leans in when she speaks to him. Laughs too brightly. Touches his forearm once, casually.

He doesn't touch her back. Doesn’t even fully turn toward her. His eyes are somewhere else.

You.

You catch him watching you more than once. Not with hunger. Not yet. Just a quiet study.

The glances become a pattern. A beat you start to recognize.

And still, he doesn’t move.

But others do.

You’re halfway through your second glass when two men — suits, handsome, not strangers to the room — flank you near the edge of the terrace. One is from an ad agency you’ve worked with before. The other’s from an international menswear brand.

They talk shop. Compliment your dress. One of them offers you another drink before you can say no. The other leans in when he speaks, a little too close to your ear, and you catch the ghost of his cologne mixed with something slightly sour.

You smile. Politely. The way you always do.

But you're aware of how their eyes follow the dip of your neckline like they’ve been given permission. One of them lets his fingers rest too long against your elbow. The other jokes, "Are all editors this pretty or are you the exception?" and doesn’t seem to care that you don’t laugh.

You glance across the room without meaning to.

He’s still there.

Still watching.

Jungkook’s grip on his glass is tighter now. The model beside him keeps talking, oblivious. He’s not listening. You know that jaw too well. The tension behind it. The twitch when he’s about to break.

You take another sip. Feel the flush of alcohol under your skin. Your vision gets softer at the edges, but the awareness sharpens. You know how this ends. You feel it humming beneath your ribs, hot and inevitable.

And when the man beside you brushes your wrist again — subtle, casual, entitled — you don’t pull away fast enough.

But Jungkook moves.

Jungkook doesn’t make a scene.

That’s the most infuriating part.

He doesn’t shove. Doesn’t glare. Doesn’t even raise his voice. He just appears beside you with the kind of seamless, quiet ease that only someone deeply used to being watched can master.

One second the man beside you is leaning in, his breath too warm against your cheek— And the next, Jungkook is sliding in between you, a hand at the small of your back, the angle of his body just enough to cut.

“Didn’t realize I was late to this conversation,” he says smoothly.

You catch the flicker of recognition on the men’s faces. One of them steps back half a pace, suddenly less charming. The other adjusts his collar and offers a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Jeon Jungkook,” the taller one says, offering a hand. “Didn’t know you were here.”

Jungkook shakes it. Calm. Collected. “Figured I’d say hello to the team who made the shoot happen.” His eyes flick toward you, then back. “Though it looks like I should’ve come earlier.”

It’s almost nothing. Just a hint. A slip beneath the surface. But you hear it. Feel it in the weight of his voice. The way his hand stays just a fraction too close to yours.

Possessive. And yet — perfectly palatable for a crowd.

No one would question this. Not the touch. Not the timing. Not the sudden chill of disappointment settling in the faces of the men who had clearly imagined something else for the end of the night.

They make excuses. One says something about needing to call his driver. The other claims someone from L’Officiel just texted.

Within a minute, they’re gone.

Jungkook watches them disappear into the crowd with that unreadable expression you remember from his early idol days. When he didn’t know how to speak with words yet — just stares.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say, voice quiet, cutting.

“I know.”

“Then why?”

He shrugs. Still watching the crowd. “Didn’t like how they were touching you.”

You pause.

“That’s not your concern anymore.”

He turns to face you then. Full. Real. And the look in his eyes is darker than the mood lighting.

“It never stopped being my concern.”

That does something to your throat. Tightens it.

You want to roll your eyes. Push him away. Instead, you take a half-step back and fix your dress strap.

“You can go now,” you say, coolly.

But his jaw tightens. That’s when you know you’ve hit something.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He says it so quietly. But it doesn’t feel soft. It feels like something pulled from the center of his chest.

You scan the room out of instinct. Too many eyes. Too much potential noise.

Jungkook notices. And he moves.

He doesn’t ask.

His hand brushes your wrist—light, guiding—and then he’s walking. Confident. Unbothered. Heading toward the side hallway just past the lounge bar, near the VIP exit where only staff and talent are allowed to pass.

You should stop him. You don’t.

You follow.

The hallway is quiet, dimmer than the rest of the event. A velvet rope keeps guests from entering, and a private elevator tucked at the end promises anonymity to anyone important enough to use it. You’ve seen it before. Watched stylists hustle idols through that door like ghosts, like secrets.

Jungkook stops just out of view.

The corner of the hall is shadowed, walls covered in gold-veined marble and muted hotel art. The muffled bass from the party barely reaches here. His back is to you.

He turns when you stop. And then he steps in.

Close.

Too close.

He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t raise his voice.

But he towers.

The heat from his body sears into yours. His jaw clenches once before relaxing, like he’s trying to hold back a thousand versions of the same mistake.

“You know what they wanted from you,” he says, voice low. “And you were going to let them?”

“I wasn’t going to let them do anything.”

“You let them touch you.”

“You fucked half the industry,” you snap, too fast. Too exposed. “Don’t start pretending I’m the one who crossed lines.”

That lands. Sharp. But he doesn’t retreat.

“I haven’t loved anyone except for you.”

You blink.

Your breath stumbles.

Your throat goes dry.

You want to argue. You want to scream liar.But he’s looking at you like it’s gospel. Like the weight of that confession has been killing him slowly every night since.

And god, he’s close.

You feel your body respond before your brain can stop it. The heat between your legs. The flush rising beneath your skin. The sharp, brutal ache that coils low in your stomach just from the way he’s standing there — like he’d throw himself between you and the world all over again.

You glance down — mistake. The open collar of his shirt frames his chest like it was designed for your hands. The chain you once clasped glints against his skin, half-damp from heat. You remember how he tastes. Wonder if he still does.

Your thighs press together. Reflex.

His eyes drop. He notices.

And you hate him for it.

“You have no right to be jealous,” you say, voice barely a whisper.

“I know.”

“You left me.”

“I know.”

Your heart is pounding. Your mouth is dry.

And when he leans in just a little closer — breath brushing your ear, his voice raw and unfiltered — it takes every ounce of strength not to melt against the wall.

“You can hate me all you want,” he says. “But I still know how to make you come apart.”

Jungkook’s stare is heavy. Focused. Unflinching.

He says nothing for a long, charged second, and you hate how your body reacts to that silence — like it remembers something your brain is still trying to forget.

“You don’t get to act like this,” you say, and it comes out sharp, acidic. “You don’t get to touch me now and pretend it means anything.”

His jaw tenses, but his voice stays level. Quiet. Deadly calm.

“I’m not pretending.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, shifting your weight — and that’s when he does it.

His hand slides down. Not rushed. Not hesitant.

And then—

He squeezes your ass.

Firm. Full. Like it still belongs to him.

Your breath halts. You don’t flinch. But your skin lights up like a flare, thighs clenching, stomach twisting.

You don’t show it.

“You’re disgusting,” you mutter through your teeth.

But he leans in, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear.

“You didn’t stop me.”

You shove at his chest, but there’s no real strength in it. Not when your knees feel like static and your pulse is hammering between your legs. Not when your own body is already betraying you, flooding with heat from the base of your spine to the ache you’ve been pretending doesn’t exist.

“You’re the one who fucked other people the second you got famous,” you snap. “Don’t come near me like we have unfinished business.”

“You think I don’t remember how you taste?” he breathes, low and lethal. “How your thighs shake when I—”

“Shut up.” You cut him off, voice breaking around the edge. “You’re pathetic.”

But his hand is still on you. Still burning through the fabric of your dress.

And now he's walking.

You're not sure when his hand left yours. You're not sure when your legs decided to follow. But you're moving. Toward the private elevator at the end of the hallway. It dings as it opens — discreet, slow, waiting for no one else.

“Don’t,” you say, half-hearted, hovering just outside the doors.

He steps inside. Looks over his shoulder. Waits.

“Unless you're scared,” he murmurs.

You could slap him. You should.

Instead, you walk in like your heels aren’t shaking.

The doors close.

Silence. Thick. Electric.

He’s behind you now. You feel it — his presence coiled tight, simmering. You keep your chin high. Your eyes fixed on the seam of the elevator door.

But your brain is spinning.

You don’t know where he’s taking you. You don’t care.

You tell yourself it’s just physical. You’re tired. Your bones are tired. You've been carrying ambition like armor for too long and you want — god, you want — to feel something. Something that doesn’t require you to smile, or pose, or win.

You want to stop being the editor. The image. The perfection.

Just for one night.

And if it has to be Jungkook — the only man who ever saw you wrecked — so be it.

Because if he’s going to ruin you again, he’s not doing it alone.

The car ride is silent.

Not awkward. Not uncertain. Just… heavy.

A stretch of velvet air between you, thick with all the things neither of you are brave or stupid enough to say.

Jungkook’s limo is absurd. Sleek black leather, blue LED trim humming at your feet. A built-in bar you ignore. Curtains drawn. City lights blur past the tinted glass as if the world outside has nothing to do with what’s about to happen inside.

You sit rigid, legs crossed. The dress has ridden up just slightly — the soft part of your thigh kissing cool air — and he notices.

Of course he notices.

His hand moves. Quietly. Confident. Like he’s done this before — with you.

Fingertips rest on your knee at first. Just that. Stillness.

But then they begin to slide.

Up.

Slow. Torturous. Not grabbing — stroking. His thumb draws lazy circles against your skin, tracing the edge where silk meets flesh.

You don’t look at him. You play with your hair instead, twisting it around your fingers like a lifeline.

But your thighs tighten. Clamp together as he nears dangerous ground.

He smirks beside you.

“I forgot how stubborn you are.”

You glare. “You forgot a lot of things.”

His fingers don’t retreat. He slides them just a breath higher, pulling the hem of your dress with them.

“You can say stop,” he murmurs, voice dropping low. “You know I’ll listen.”

You hate that it’s true.

You hate that you don’t want to say it.

Your jaw clenches. Your thighs stay locked, heat building between them like friction might burn the memory away before it begins.

He doesn’t push further. Just stays there. Waiting. Letting you sit with the fact that your body is already betraying you — pulse between your legs fluttering like it remembers the path he’s about to take.

You stare out the window, trying to breathe through the ache.

This is happening. You know it. You knew it the moment you followed him out of that party.

Tonight, you’re not Vogue Korea’s untouchable ice queen. You’re just a woman. Lonely. Starving. So fucking tired of pretending she doesn’t want to be ruined.

✦

The car stops in front of La Premiere, one of Seoul’s most exclusive residential towers — all glass, obsidian stone, gold accents that shimmer even at midnight. You’re not surprised. This is the kind of place you only enter if your name is a brand.

The lobby is silent, marble floors echoing beneath your heels. The elevator requires a thumbprint. The doorman greets him by name.

You stay silent.

But your heart is screaming.

The apartment is on the 38th floor. The penthouse.

Of course it is.

High ceilings. Soft lighting. Concrete walls and floor-to-ceiling windows that open into an unobstructed view of Seoul’s skyline. You barely have time to look.

Because the moment the door clicks shut behind you—

He’s on you.

Your back hits the wall. Hard. His mouth finds yours like he’s starving. Like he’s been dreaming of this moment and can’t wait another second.

It’s not a kiss. It’s a collision. Wet, messy, teeth and tongue and heat. His hands are on your hips, your ribs, your ass — greedy, possessive, hungry.

You moan into his mouth, furious at yourself.

He grins.

“Still pretending you don’t want this?”

You shove at his chest, breathless.

“Still pretending you don’t want to be fucked?”

His laugh is dark. “You want to feel me inside you, don’t you?”

You don’t answer.

He takes it as a yes.

He lifts you like you weigh nothing, carrying you down the hallway. You catch glimpses of modern art, black marble floors, absurdly expensive furniture you could write articles about.

But then—

His bedroom.

Of course it’s massive. King-sized bed draped in jet-black sheets, one wall entirely glass, Seoul glittering behind it like a crown.

He lays you down. Stares at you for a second.

Then bends. Presses a kiss to your shin. Your knee. Your inner thigh.

You arch.

“You’re not going to tease me,” you spit, breath shaky.

“Oh no?” His voice is warm silk wrapped around something feral. “I think you’ve been begging to be teased.”

And then he’s peeling your dress up, up, over your hips, dragging it slowly, deliberately, like he’s unwrapping a sin he’s already claimed.

His hands never stop moving.

He spreads your legs with ease, dress bunched high at your waist now, the cold kiss of air meeting warm skin. You feel obscenely exposed and utterly alive — laid out against his sheets in nothing but a paper-thin pair of black lace underwear that does nothing to hide the heat soaking through.

And when his eyes land there, dark and molten, his breath catches.

“Fuck,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “You’ve always been unreal.”

You watch his throat move, swallowing thickly. His fingers trail from your calf to the inside of your thigh, slow and reverent.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he murmurs, eyes locked on your heat like he’s watching a meal he’s about to ruin. “You’ll forget how to hate me.”

You don’t have time to snarl back before his mouth is on you again — dragging up your body, lips trailing over your stomach, your ribs, your bra. He finds your breast with one hand, slipping beneath the delicate cup, warm palm cupping it, squeezing just enough to make you gasp. Then his tongue is there, licking over your nipple through the lace, wetting it until the fabric turns transparent and your back lifts off the bed.

You whimper. Loud.

And you hate that it sounds like relief.

His other hand finds your ass, gripping it with the kind of pressure that says mine, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed as he grinds down against you, clothed cock heavy and hot against your inner thigh.

He nips at your breast, tongue flicking, eyes on your face.

“Still pretending you don’t remember what this feels like?”

You pant, fingers buried in his hair. “Just fuck me already.”

But he’s not done teasing. He slides lower again, mouth kissing a path down your torso, tongue tasting your skin like it’s his.

When he reaches your panties, he pauses. Licks his lips.

“These need to come off.”

You lift your hips. He slides them down your legs, slow and smooth, like he’s savoring every inch of skin revealed.

And then he groans.

“Fuck, baby…” His thumb brushes over your slit. “You’re soaked.”

You glare. “You’re not special.”

He chuckles. “We’ll see.”

Then he kisses you again, deep and dirty, hand slipping between your thighs, two fingers sliding through your folds with ease, coating themselves in everything your pride is trying to hide.

He presses in — just one finger, shallow and slow — and you gasp into his mouth.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he breathes against your lips. “You really haven’t let anyone else stretch you like this?”

You don’t answer.

But your moan says enough.

He adds another finger. Curling them. Moving them just right.

“This is me preparing you,” he murmurs, voice all silk and sin. “I’m gonna make it good. Gonna make you cum on my fingers before I even fuck you.”

Your eyes flutter shut. “God, Jungkook—”

“I love when you beg,” he growls, “but not yet.”

You reach for him then, desperate, fingers tugging at his open shirt — sheer and slippery beneath your grip. You want to see him. Need to.

He feels it.

“Patience,” he smirks, but he lets you undress him anyway.

Jacket drops first. Then that ridiculous silk shirt that slides off his arms like water. You make a sound low in your throat when you see him again, bare and sculpted and dangerous. Then he pushes his pants down, black slacks pooling on the floor, and all that’s left is his boxers — stretched tight over his cock, which is very obviously hard.

And huge.

Your mouth parts.

He sees it. Smirks again.

“Don’t act surprised,” he murmurs, leaning in. “You’ve had it before.”

His body covers yours, the warmth of his skin burning against you, his cock pressing hot and heavy between your thighs. He grinds once, slow, and you gasp — the length of him perfectly aligned against your soaked slit, dragging between your folds like he’s memorizing the shape of your desperation.

He doesn't push in yet.

Just teases. Rubs the head against your clit. Circles it. Slips down, catches your entrance, then pulls back again.

You bite your lip so hard it stings.

“Jungkook,” you pant, voice breaking.

He kisses your jaw, your neck, his voice low and smug and maddening.

“You’re gonna say please.”

You don’t say please.

Not with your mouth.

But when you look down and see him reach for the nightstand drawer, tear open the foil packet with steady fingers, and roll the condom down his thick, veined length— Your mouth parts on instinct.

God.

You forgot what he looked like like this. Not just big — devastating. Long, hard, flushed dark at the tip, heavy in his own hand. Your core clenches around nothing, heat flooding your stomach.

You don’t mean to moan. But you do.

His smirk falters for a split second.

“You’re still so easy to ruin,” he murmurs, fisting his cock, stroking once, lining himself up between your thighs. “I barely touched you.”

“You’ve been talking too much,” you whisper, chest heaving. “Shut up and—”

But the words die the second he starts to push in.

You gasp — your whole body tensing — and your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging in hard.

He groans above you. “Shit—you’re tight.”

You feel the stretch like it’s the first time. A slow, thick pressure as he sinks in inch by inch. Every muscle in your body coils, thighs trembling, breath catching.

His mouth finds yours again — wet, open, filthy — kissing you through it, licking into your whimper like he’s feeding off your pleasure.

“Just breathe,” he whispers, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other gripping your waist. “I’ve got you.”

You do.

You let him in.

And god, you hate how good it feels — to have him deep inside, to feel the way your body opens around him like it remembers exactly where he belongs.

When he bottoms out, hips flush to yours, he groans into your throat.

You’re both panting. Stunned.

Then you move.

Your legs wrap around his waist. Tight. Holding him there.

His back arches into it, and he nearly chokes on his breath.

“F-fuck,” he stutters, voice cracking. “You’re gonna make me cum just like that.”

You grin, delirious. “Control yourself.”

“Impossible,” he groans, but he stays still, grinding his hips in slow, rolling circles, letting you feel all of him, the friction igniting fire where your nerves used to be.

Your hands slide down his back — hot, damp with sweat — and you whisper between shaky breaths:

“You feel so good, Jungkook… so fucking good—”

That does it.

He starts to move.

Slow at first. Deep. Letting you feel every inch drag through you, the way your walls flutter around him. He groans again — long and low — kisses you like he’s starving.

Then he leans back just enough to slip a hand between your bodies, tugging at your bra strap.

“Off,” he pants. “I want to feel all of you.”

You arch for him, and he peels the lace away, throws it somewhere behind him without a second glance. His mouth latches onto your breast immediately, tongue circling your nipple while he thrusts deeper now, rhythm gaining speed.

Your moan rips from your throat — helpless.

The room is filled with slick, obscene sounds. Wet kisses. The slap of skin against skin. His name. Your name. Every broken breath in between.

He fucks you like he never stopped wanting you. Like every other girl was just a placeholder. Like this is what he’s been chasing for years.

You meet him thrust for thrust, body to body, every part of you singing from the friction and the fullness.

“Jungkook—” you gasp, legs shaking around him.

He presses his forehead to yours, eyes shut tight.

“I’m close—fuck—I’m gonna—”

Your nails dig into his back. Your mouth finds his. Hot. Messy. Breathless.

And you both fall.

You cum around him with a strangled cry, legs locking, mouth open, his name your only word. He follows seconds later — hips jerking, body shaking, groaning into your mouth as he spills into the condom, both of you swallowed in heat and noise and everything you said you’d never feel again.

The room goes still.

Except your breathing.

And the heartbeat pounding between your ribs like a warning.

Your body is still shaking when he collapses beside you, skin damp and breath ragged, his palm pressed flat against your stomach like he needs to anchor himself to something that’s real.

Neither of you speak. Your lungs are too full of what just happened — of the heat still lingering between your thighs, of his scent on your skin, of the kiss still wet on your mouth.

And then—

He moves again.

You feel it before you see it — the subtle shift of his body behind yours, the press of his chest against your back, the way his hand slides down your stomach, lower, lower, fingers brushing over your still-sensitive slit with the softest, filthiest reverence.

Your legs twitch.

“Jungkook…” your voice is nothing more than a broken breath.

But he’s already hard again.

His cock slides against your ass, hot and ready, nestling in the curve of your body like it belongs there. Like it never stopped belonging there.

“I can’t stop,” he whispers, voice husky and wrecked. “Not yet. I need more.”

You don’t argue.

Because the truth is, so do you.

You feel the crinkle of another condom. The soft hiss of him rolling it on. And then—

He pushes in from behind.

This angle — lying on your side, body curled into his, his arm wrapped tight around your waist — it’s too much. Too deep. Too intimate.

You cry out softly as he fills you again, slower this time, his hips moving in lazy, grinding rolls that feel like velvet dragging through your core.

He groans low into your neck.

“Still so fucking tight. So warm,” he pants. “You’re made for me.”

Your hands scramble behind you, reaching for anything to hold. You find his hair, his neck, your fingers threading through damp strands and pulling him closer. His mouth finds yours again — messy, hot, upside down, your teeth clashing a little before they part.

The kiss is deeper than it should be. Slower. Desperate in a different way.

Like neither of you are trying to cum anymore.

Like you’re just trying to stay here.

He fucks you like he’s drunk on you — like your body is a drug he’s been forced to quit and now can’t get enough of. His hand slides over your breasts, then down again, gripping your thigh to tilt your hips back, opening you wider.

You whimper into the pillow, moaning his name over and over, helpless.

“Feel so good, baby,” he murmurs, forehead pressed to your shoulder. “I can’t—fuck—I can’t stop.”

You don’t want him to.

You’re shaking. Sweat-slick. Eyes wet.

You twist your neck just enough to kiss him again — messy, slow, tongues tangling mid-thrust, like your mouths can’t stay apart even now.

His pace stutters.

You feel him start to lose it, his rhythm breaking as you clench around him, your walls pulling him deeper with every snap of his hips.

And when you cum again — this time quieter, slower, your body trembling as you squeeze your eyes shut — he goes with you.

He groans your name into your skin as he spills into you again, the rhythm fading into soft, tired rolls of his hips, your bodies still locked together under the sheets.

For a long while, neither of you move.

You just lay there. Breathing. Tangled. Spent.

He kisses your shoulder once. Light. Almost careful.

And then sleep pulls you both under — not out of comfort, but out of collapse. Because neither of you came here looking for peace.

You just needed an escape.

And you found it in each other’s ruin.

✦

Your eyes snap open before your alarm ever has the chance.

The room is quiet. Dim gray light filters through blackout curtains. The sheets smell like sex and sweat and a mistake you swore you'd never make again.

You blink. Once. Twice.

And then it all rushes back.

The kisses. The way he moaned your name. His hands, his mouth, the sound of skin slapping skin. The taste of him on your lips. The way he said you’re mine without ever needing the words.

“Fuck,” you breathe, pressing your hand over your eyes.

You sit up slowly.

Your body aches in all the right ways and all the wrong ones — thighs sore, lips bruised, a pulsing between your legs that still flutters when you shift.

Next to you, Jungkook sleeps facedown. Bare, sprawled, shamelessly beautiful. The sheets only just cover his waist, one arm bent beneath the pillow, the muscles in his back stretching in long, carved lines.

You stare. Just for a second.

He looks so peaceful.

So unaware.

So dangerous.

You bite your lip. Hard.

Your fingers twitch with the urge to trace the curve of his spine, but you stop yourself. Because you don’t have time for softness. You have work.

You always have work.

Dragging yourself out of the bed, you start collecting your clothes — your dress crumpled in the corner, your heels under the chaise, your bra on the floor beside the door like a monument to your downfall.

When you catch your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you wince.

Mascara smudged. Lips bitten raw. Hair wrecked.

You look like a woman who had a night.

And in less than an hour, you need to look like a woman in charge of the most powerful editorial campaign of the year.

You move fast.

Cold water. Concealer. Lip balm. Breath mints. You finger-comb your hair and twist it into something sleek. But the problem isn’t the face — it’s the clothes.

Your dress is a dead giveaway. Wrinkled, short, undeniably last night.

You move to Jungkook’s closet.

Rows of Saint Laurent, Givenchy, Alexander McQueen. Racks of custom suits and silky button-downs. Not a single item designed for discretion.

But then — a structured black blazer. Boxy, masculine, clean-cut enough to pass.

You slide it on. It swallows your frame. The hem falls past your thighs, hiding your dress completely. You roll the sleeves once. Twice. Pair it with quiet confidence and a pair of sunglasses from the entryway table.

You almost look like a Vogue editor.

Almost.

You don’t let yourself look at him again.

You just close the door behind you, call a taxi, and vanish into morning traffic with nothing but your pride duct-taped together inside that blazer.

The office is already buzzing by the time you walk in.

People look up. Smiling. Bright. Warm.

“Y/N! Congrats again on the October issue—” “That cover is insane, seriously, you killed it—” “You must be exhausted after last night’s party!”

You smile. Say thank you. Pretend your skin doesn’t still smell like sex and Jungkook’s cologne.

One of the interns offers you coffee. You accept, gratefully.

You’re almost safe.

Until Kara appears.

“Wow,” she says, voice honeyed and loud. “You look… rough.”

The conversation halts like a car crash.

A beat of awkward silence. Someone clears their throat.

You look up slowly.

Kara smiles. All teeth.

“Late night?” she adds, mock-innocent. “Or should I say… early morning?”

You don’t answer. Just raise your coffee and keep walking.

But she follows.

Right into the main office hallway, right up to the boss’s glass-walled door — just as it opens.

Your editor-in-chief steps out. Sharp-heeled. Impeccably dressed. Eyes cutting.

Kara laughs softly and says, “She probably didn’t even go home. Just look — same dress as last night’s party. Slept over somewhere fancy, though. That’s not hers.”

You freeze.

Your boss turns to you. Stares. The expression is unreadable — but not soft.

“Y/N,” she says. “My office. Now.”

Your stomach drops.

You walk. Slowly. Kara watches you go, biting the edge of her thumb with a smile like she already knows she’s won.

Your phone buzzes in your palm.

Unknown Number: That blazer suits you. But you’ll have to pay me back eventually. Preferably not in cash.

Your pulse stutters.

You don’t have to guess who it is.

You just slide the phone into your pocket — and knock on your boss’s door.

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#jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook ff #jungkook x you #bts smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook #bts jungkook #second chance au

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mafiadad5 · 3 months ago

Text

House of cards. || l.hc + n.jm

“You want to make quick cash, I have a way.”

♤ now playing- house of cards: bts

♤ Jaemin and Haechan x fem!reader (ft. seven dream)

♤ genre/warnings: smut with plot, angst. college au implied, but also illegal activity au, 18+ mdni!, dom!jaemin, vanilla!haechan, slight threesome, multiple sex scenes, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex (don’t do.), breeding/creampie, marking, praise, degrading, pet names, fingering, hair pulling, Jaemin is really manipulative and possessive, betrayal, mention of a gun once or twice.

♤ W/c- 21k

a/n- this is my longest fic. I actually love this, lmk what u think!

"You're late." A voice hummed beside you as you took a seat, out of breath.

"I know," you panted, setting your bag on the desk and wiping the sweat from your forehead. "I ran here, and I'm still late."

"Don't worry. You didn't miss much." He chuckled softly, his fingers already typing on his laptop. A moment later, you heard the ding of an email notification. "I sent you the notes you missed, you're covered."

"Thanks Haechan, you're the best." You said with a grin as you opened your laptop, his gesture warming your chest.

The lecture moved quickly, and by the end you had managed to catch up on everything you missed. Packing your bag, you were ready to get out of there when a light tap on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks.

"Hm?" You asked, turning to face him.

"Did you forget we planned to grab lunch today?" He asked, tilting his head with a soft smile.

"Oh shit Haechan. I completely forgot. I've just got so much work today." You admitted, guilt already creeping into your tone.

"That's okay," he replied, his smile not falling. "We can work together after lunch, if that's cool?"

You hesitated, but his demeanor made it so hard to say no. "Yeah, that sounds good Haechan."

"Great!" He cheered, standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

As you walked together to your favorite lunch spot, you found yourself noticing small details: the way his laugh carried in the air, the soft way his arm brushed yours, the golden hue of sunlight bouncing off the sidewalk. You wondered how many times you'd walked this same path, but never really seen it.

The line wasn't too long, and Haechan squinted at the menu, breaking the silence. "Hmm, the pesto sandwich sounds good. I might have to try it."

You nodded, glancing at the menu. "Yeah, that does sound good."

"What about you? Should we both get it?" He asked, his eyes lighting up with the suggestion.

"Oh, I'll probably just get some coffee or something." You replied nonchalantly, shifting your focus elsewhere.

"Just coffee?" He turned to you, his brows knitting together in concern. "Are you not hungry?"

"I mean, I am, but I have stuff at home. I'll be fine." You said, brushing off his concern.

"Y/n." He said, his tone shifting to something softer. "If you're hungry, you need to eat, plus, I really want to try the pesto sandwich with you. Come on—get one. I'll grab your usual coffee too."

"No Haechan, it's okay...I swear. Don't worry about it. Just get your own stuff—I've got mine." You shook your head, trying to keep your voice light.

He tilted his head at you, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes that he always has when he convinces you. "But I want to try the pesto with you and if you're not going to buy it, who's going to?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.

"Exactly." He smiled.

"Just go grab a table, okay? I insist... please?" His voice softened, the sparkle in his eyes making it impossible to argue.

You sighed in defeat, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Fine, but this is the last time, okay?"

"Sure, sure." He said breezily, already turning toward the counter.

As you walked to your table, you couldn't help but reflect on his kindness. It wasn't just this—Haechan always had your back, always knew how to make you feel cared for even when you didn't want to accept help.

He returned a few minutes later, balancing a tray with the sandwiches and your coffee. "Special delivery." He said, setting it down with a grin.

"Thanks Haechan."

"Okay, let's dive in." He said, holding up half of his sandwich toward you like a toast.

You giggled, clinking your sandwich half against his. "Let's dive in."

You both ate quietly at first, comfortable silence filling the air as you both ate, but something in the moment stirred an ache in your chest, and you found yourself speaking before you could stop.

"Haechan." You said softly, your voice carrying a hint of sorrow.

"Hm?" He hummed, looking up from his food.

"I just... I want to thank you for always having my back— for everything. It really means a lot to me."

His expression softened, and he rubbed at his mouth with a napkin before responding. "Y/n, there's no need to thank me. I care about you, and I'll always be here for you no matter what."

The sincerity in his voice made you pause, and for a moment, you just looked at him, taking in the way his eyes seemed to shine in the sunlight.

"Haechan... I need to tell you something." You said, your tone shifting to something more serious.

His smile dropped slightly, replaced with a hint of nervousness. "What's up?"

"I'm going back home," you said quietly. "For good."

The words hung in the air, and you watched as his face fell.

"What? How are you going to...? Wait, are you dropping out?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

You nodded. "Yeah. I'll figure something out when I get home."

"But you don't have a plan yet?" He pressed, desperation creeping into his voice. "Stay a little longer, you can figure it out here."

"Haechan, me not having a plan back home is still more stable than being here." You said, your voice cracking slightly.

"But you're working so hard. We only have one year left. You can do it—I know you can." His voice was full of belief, but there was a sadness there too, like he knew he couldn't do anything to persuade you.

"Haechan... your belief doesn't pay the bills. I work two jobs, and I'm still a full time student— i'm exhausted. I can't do it anymore." You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His leg bounced under the table, and he bit his lip before finally nodding. "Yeah, no, I get it. I really do." He lifted his head, forcing a small smile. "I just hope we stay in touch. I'll always be here to support you, ok?"

"Of course. We're still going to be friends Haechan. Nothing's going to change that, I promise."

He nodded quietly, packing up his things and gathering the trash. "I should get going, I know you have work to do."

"But I thought we were going to work together?" You asked, confused.

"Yeah, I know, but I don't want to distract you." He said, his voice soft but distant.

You frowned. "Haechan, I'm sorry if I upset you..."

"You didn't," he said quickly, his smile hesitant. "I get it, really. I'll talk to you later, ok?"

"Ok. Bye Haechan." You said, watching as he walked away. ══════════════════════════ You sat on your bed, lost in thought, the weight of your decision pressing down on your chest. The faint glow of your phone screen caught your attention as a notification popped up.

“Hey, can we talk?”

Your brows furrowed as you typed back quickly.

“Yeah, sure. Do you wanna call?”

The response came almost immediately.

“No. I want to talk in person.”

A flicker of concern passed through you. Haechan wasn't usually this abrupt.

“Oh, okay. Where do you want to meet?”

“I'll pick you up. Be there in 15.”

Your stomach twisted as you stared at the screen. Something about the way he phrased it felt off, but you pushed the feeling aside.

“Ok!”

You threw on a jacket, glancing at yourself in the mirror. What could he possibly want to talk about that couldn't wait? The thought clawed at you as you slipped outside, waiting on the curb.

The low hum of an engine pulled your attention, and a sleet jet-black BMW rolled up to the curb. Its tinted windows blended seamlessly into the darkness, making it look more like a shadow than a car. The door unlocked with a soft click, and you climbed in, greeted by the faint scent of leather and cologne.

Haechan glanced over at you, his expression unreadable as he reached over to check that your seatbelt was fastened. He didn't say much, just nodding before pulling back onto the street.

"Where are we going?" You asked, your voice cutting through the low hum of the engine.

"Just on a drive, if that's okay with you." He replied, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he maneuvered through the quiet streets. Something about his demeanor—his silence, the sharpness in his posture made the air heavier.

"Yeah, that's fine." You said slowly, trying to see where his mood was at. "What's up? What did you need to talk about?"

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as if he was weighing his words carefully. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. "I have a way you can stay here."

Your chest tightened. "Haechan, I already told you I can't—"

"Just listen." He cut you off sharply. His tone wasn't angry, but the sudden edge in his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard, nodding. "Ok. What is it?"

"It's risky as hell," He admitted, his grip on the wheel tightening, "but it'll make you a lot of money. More than enough to pay for your tuition and bills."

Your stomach turned. "What kind of 'risky' are we talking about?"

He hesitated again. "I can't tell you too much."

Your brows knitted together as unease crept up your spine. "This sounds very... illegal." You said, trying to add a bit of humor to ease the tension, but the way his jaw clenched at the word made your pulse quicken.

"Would you do it if it was illegal?" He asked, his tone half joking, half dead serious.

"I'm not becoming a prostitute, if that's what you're implying." You joked, your nervous laugh filling the silence.

That earned a small chuckle from him, though it was short. "No, it's not that."

"Well, can you at least tell me more?" You pressed, your voice full with both curiosity and concern.

"I can't." He said firmly, his eyes flicking toward you for a brief moment before returning to the road. "It's something I have to show you. Look—if you're not comfortable, you can back out anytime, but I do it, and... well, look at what you're sitting in right now." He gestured briefly to the interior of the car, the soft leather seats and pristine dashboard. "It's not as bad as you think."

Your heart was pounding now, the weight of his words sinking in. "Haechan, you're scaring me. Seriously."

He exhaled sharply, his grip on the wheel loosening slightly. "If you're scared, then this isn't the right job for you." He said, his voice softer, but still firm.

You bit your lip, your hands clenching in your lap. "But I want to stay," you said, your voice shaky. "I want to try."

He glanced at you again, his expression unreadable. "So, you're down? Like I said, you can back out if you don't want to."

You nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Yeah... I'm down."

He pulled up in front of your apartment building, the car slowing as he turned to look at you. "Alright. Let's talk about this more over lunch tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah." You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "Sounds like a plan."

You stepped out of the car, your legs shaky as you walked back to your apartment, the hum of the car fading into the night as Haechan drove off. ══════════════════════════ The next day, you sat at the small café table, your leg bouncing anxiously. The cup of coffee in front of you was untouched, growing colder by the minute as you waited.

Finally, you spotted him weaving through the tables. He placed a red gift bag on the table beside him as he slid into the seat across from you.

"Hey Y/n!" He greeted, his tone cheerful.

"Hey." You replied with a small smile, sitting up straighter.

"How were your classes? I know you had some rough ones today." He asked, his voice light and casual, like the two of you hadn't had a tense conversation just the night before.

"They were... ok actually." You said, your smile tightening slightly. "What about you?"

"Pretty chill. You know I only have one class on Thursdays." He said, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed shrug.

"Right..." You nodded, feeling the tension tighten in your chest. The conversation was good, but you couldn't ignore the elephant in the room. "So... are you ready to talk more about, you know?"

The moment the words left your mouth, his demeanor shifted. The brightness in his expression dimmed, replaced by something harder to read. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto yours.

"What if I told you," he began slowly, his voice softer but laced with a teasing edge, "that I didn't have anything to talk about and just wanted an excuse to have you come to lunch with me?"

Your brows lifted slightly, caught off guard by his response. "Then I guess it worked, huh?" You replied, a small smile tugging at your lips.

That seemed to satisfy him, and for a moment, his bright smile returned. "It did." He admitted with a quiet laugh, shaking his head. But then, just as quickly as the lightness had returned, it faded again, and he leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "There's not much I can say here." He said, glancing briefly around the café as if to check for eavesdroppers.

Your heart skipped a beat, your palms pressing nervously against your thighs under the table.

"But," he continued, sliding the red gift bag across the table toward you, "I wanted to give you this for tonight. Don't open it until you get home, ok?"

You stared at the bag, your fingers hesitating before brushing against the smooth handles. "What's with you and these cliffhangers?" You asked, trying to keep your tone light even as your mind raced with possibilities.

He chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. "I guess I just like keeping you on your toes."

Your lips twitched into a nervous smile, your fingers now gripping the bag. He stood up suddenly, smoothing the front of his jacket as he prepared to leave. "I have to go," he said, glancing at his watch. "but I'll pick you up at 9:30 tonight, ok?"

"Ok." You nodded, your voice quieter now as you looked up at him.

He paused, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "Oh, and look your absolute best." He added, his lips curving into a small mischievous smile. "Even though you're pretty good at that already."

You felt a warmth creep up your neck at his words, but before you could respond, he was already turning away.

"See you tonight." He called over his shoulder, raising a hand in a casual wave.

You waved back, watching him walk his way through the café and out the door. The moment he was gone, the tension you'd been holding onto seemed to double. You glanced down at the gift bag sitting innocently on the table, its crimson color popped against the pale wood. ══════════════════════════ You got home and instantly opened the red gift bag, pulling out the contents with a mix of awe and unease. Inside was a beautiful black dress, its fabric soft and luxurious, shimmering faintly under the dim light of your room. You spotted the price tag and your jaw dropped—$300.

Holding the dress up, you sighed and reached for your phone, opening your text with Haechan.

"Haechan I can't accept this."

"Why not?"

"Because it's so expensive. I have black dresses I can wear. I'm giving it back when you pick me up."

"No offense, but those dresses aren't good enough."

"Ouch..."

"Sorry, you should've just accepted it and been quiet..."

"K whatever, bye."

"Bye Y/n. See you tonight."

You sighed again as you locked your phone and set it down on the bed. Your fingers grazed the dress, it was beautiful, but left you feeling conflicted. A nap seemed like the best way to shake the nerves eating away at you, so you curled up under your blanket, your mind buzzing with unanswered questions.

When you woke, the sun had already set. You got up and started getting ready, making yourself look your absolute best, just like he requested. The dress fit perfectly, clinging to you in all the right places. You styled your hair and touched up your makeup until you barely recognized yourself in the mirror.

As you waited by the window, you heard the familiar low rumble of Haechan's car before your phone even buzzed. You grabbed your things and stepped outside, the cold night air brushing against your skin as you walked toward the sleek black BMW parked by the curb.

Haechan stepped out of the driver's seat, and your eyes widened at the sight of him. He was dressed in tailored black pants and a silky black shirt that glinted faintly under the streetlights. His dark hair was styled in a perfect middle part, and his warm, tan skin seemed to glow even in the dark.

"You look gorgeous." He said, smiling as he opened the passenger door for you.

"I could say the same about you." You replied, unable to hide the small smile tugging at your lips.

He got back into the car, and the two of you drove off. The silence in the car wasn't uncomfortable, but it was heavy, only the faint hum of the radio and the low growl of the engine. Your eyes kept drifting toward Haechan as he drove, his profile sharp and focused, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"So," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. "I have three rules for you before we get there."

You nodded, your heart skipping a beat as you turned to him.

"Rule one: don't talk to anyone I don't introduce you to or people who aren't customers." His voice was steady, but there was a slight edge to it.

"Ok."

"Rule two: never, ever come to this place without me."

You hesitated but nodded again. "Ok."

"Rule three: never go home with anyone, and I mean anyone. No excuses, no exceptions. Do you understand me? This is very important."

The weight of his words pressed down on you, but you nodded. "Yes, I understand."

"Good." He said, his tone softening slightly, but his gaze remained fixed on the road.

The car pulled into a narrow alley, lined with other luxury cars that gleamed under the dim glow of overhead lights. You glanced nervously at Haechan as he parked and got out, quickly walking to your side to open the door for you.

You stepped out, the sounds of the city muffled in the quiet alley. Haechan guided you toward, what looked like an ordinary convenience store. The bell above the door jingled as you entered, and your stomach twisted with confusion. It was... just a convenience store.

You followed Haechan to the counter, where a small man with a gray beard greeted him warmly. "Haechan! We missed you!"

"Yeah, I've been busy. Glad to be back." Haechan replied with a polite smile.

The man's eyes flicked to you, and his smile grew slightly. "And who's this?"

"A friend." Haechan said, glancing at you before returning his attention to the man.

"Only a friend?" The man teased, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Why do you always press me like this? She's only a friend." Haechan chuckled, but his tone shifted to something more serious.

The man's expression got serious. "You know how I feel about new customers." He said, his voice low.

Haechan pulled out a stack of cash and slid it across the counter. "Maybe this will change your mind?"

The man raised an eyebrow but pushed the money back. "Keep your money young man. I'll make this exception because she looks like she could make me some money, but don't do it again. Or you're done."

"Yes sir," Haechan said with a respectful nod. "Now, can we go?"

The man grunted, then pressed a button under the counter. A faint click echoed through the room, and a beaded curtain at the back of the store shifted slightly.

Haechan motioned for you to follow him. Your steps were hesitant as you glanced back at the man, who gave you a small smile.

Haechan pushed through the curtain and opened a hidden door, revealing a narrow, dimly lit staircase. He turned to you, his hand reaching for yours. "Come on."

You hesitated, your fingers trembling as they intertwined with his. The air grew colder as you descended, the sound of your heels echoing faintly on the worn steps.

"I don't know Haechan," you whispered. "If this is too much trouble, I can leave. I don't want to get you in trouble."

He stopped abruptly, turning to face you. "We're in." He said firmly. He gestured to the door at the bottom of the stairs. "This is your last chance to turn back. Are you in?"

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. You took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, I'm in."

A small smile tugged at his lips before he turned back and opened the door.

The room beyond was like nothing you'd ever seen—a lavish, red and gold space filled with poker tables, roulette wheels, and slot machines. The crowd was a mix of old and young, all dressed in the finest clothes, their wealth on display in every detail.

"Here we are." Haechan murmured beside you, his voice low and steady.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from the scene. The luxuriousness, the mystery, the faint hum of tension in the air—it was intoxicating.

Goodness, what had you gotten yourself into?

══════════════════════════ Rule #1: don't talk to strangers or people who aren't playing customers.

Haechan led you into the vibrant room, his demeanor cool and collected as if this was second nature to him.

"So, here's a quick rundown of the place." He began, his voice calm but commanding as you trailed closely behind him. "These are the slot machines. You won't be here much because, honestly, people just kind of do whatever here. It's not really our focus."

You nodded, glancing around at the glowing machines that lit up the space. Laughter, cheers, and frustrated groans filled the air as people obsessively pulled levers and pressed buttons.

"These," he continued, leading you past the slot machines to a series of spinning wheels surrounded by a mix of excitement, "are the roulette tables. They're not huge money-makers, but I think you could handle them. People listen to pretty faces."

He smirked, shooting you a sideways glance that made your cheeks flush slightly.

He chuckled and moved on. "Now, these are the Rummikub tables." He explained, gesturing toward a quieter section of the room where small groups of people sat in the game. "This is my personal favorite because I like to play, but it's not where the big money is. You won't really need to be here unless you're playing for fun."

He stopped for a moment, scanning the room before continuing. "And finally, these are the poker and blackjack tables." He said, his tone shifting slightly as he pointed to the most crowded section of the room. The energy here was different—intense and electric. Stacks of cash and high stakes surrounded every table. "This is where we want to be. These tables are our bread and butter. This is where the real money gets made."

You took it all in, your stomach twisting slightly with nerves. "Um, Haechan, not to kill the vibe or anything, but I don't think this is for me." You admitted hesitantly. "I'm terrible at gambling. They'd destroy me out there."

He stopped walking and turned to face you, a soft laugh escaping his lips. "You're not gambling Y/n." He said, his voice patient but firm. "That's not the job."

"Then... what is the job?" You asked, feeling a little more nervous now.

He smiled as he pushed open a heavy red door labeled "EMPLOYEES ONLY." Inside, three men were gathered, each with a distinct aura that made it clear they were used to being in charge of something.

"Haechan! Where've you been?" One of them said, standing up to greet him with a firm handshake.

"Busy, as always." Haechan replied with a grin. "But I'm here now. Got something new to show you." He turned slightly, motioning toward you.

The man looked you up and down with a raised eyebrow. "And who's this?"

"This is Y/n. She's going to be working with us." Haechan explained, his tone casual but confident.

"She's gonna be a money maker, I can tell already." The man said, extending a hand toward you. "I'm Mark. Nice to meet you Y/n."

You shook his hand, offering a polite smile. "Nice to meet you too."

"Hi, I'm Renjun." Said another man seated at a desk covered in monitors displaying security camera feeds. He glanced at you briefly before turning his attention back to the screens. "Wow, you're really pretty." He added, looking at Haechan. "Where'd you find her?"

Haechan rolled his eyes, chuckling. "Mind your business."

"And I'm Jisung." Said a tall guy with a deep voice, walking into the room. "I'm the boss around here."

"Jisung, you are not the boss." Another voice interjected. A sharp looking man sitting in the corner smirked at Jisung. "I'm Chenle. Don't listen to him—he just likes to act important."

You laughed nervously, glancing at Haechan for reassurance.

"Alright, alright." Haechan interrupted, steering the conversation back. "I'm gonna go find the actual boss. Can you guys give Y/n the rundown while I'm gone?"

"Of course." Mark said, gesturing for you to sit down.

As you took a seat, Mark leaned forward. "Ok, so here's how it works. Your job is to keep people here. Talk to them, smile, flirt a little if you need to. Serve drinks, compliment them—basically make them feel like winners so they keep playing. That's it."

"That sounds... easy enough." You said, nodding slowly.

"It is, for the most part." Mark agreed. "But here's the deal—if you cash out less than $500 in tips and earnings by the end of the night, you get a strike. Four strikes, and you're out. Got it?"

"Got it." You replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Haechan returned a few minutes later, his smile reassuring as he asked, "You ready to start Y/n?"

"Yeah, I'm ready." You said, standing up and smoothing down your dress.

He led you back out to the floor, stopping at a busy poker table. "Here's your first table of the night. Just do your thing."

Hours had passed, and while the work had been easier than you expected, it was also exhausting. Smiling endlessly, chatting up customers, and walking back and forth had drained your energy. You were relieved when Haechan finally appeared beside you, leaning in close to whisper.

"Let's go cash you out." He said softly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

You followed him to the office, your feet aching. The room looked the same as before, but the men inside seemed more worn down now, their postures slouched and expressions slightly tired.

Mark perked up when you entered, shooting you a friendly grin. "How was your first night Y/n?"

"It was good." You replied, managing a smile. "Some weirdos, but I can handle it."

Mark chuckled. "Yeah, that's pretty typical. Just remember, we're here to protect you. None of us are gonna let anything happen to you—or any of the other women who work here." He added, his voice kind, but firm.

Jisung chimed in, offering you an encouraging smile. "He's right. We don't tolerate anyone stepping out of line. Now, are you ready for your cash out?"

You nodded eagerly, and Jisung walked over to a machine in the corner, his fingers flying over the buttons.

"Renjun, can I get a head count for her?" Jisung asked without looking up.

Renjun who was still monitoring the cameras, swiveled in his chair to glance at you. "She's got about ten customers." He reported before turning back to the screens.

Jisung pressed one final button, and the machine whirred before spitting out a stack of cash. He counted it quickly, nodding to himself before handing it over to you.

"$7,500." Jisung said impressed. "Not bad for your first night."

Your eyes widened as you accepted the money, the weight of it startling in your hands. "Thank you."

"What?" Chenle exclaimed from across the room. "$7,500 on her first night? That can't be right!"

Haechan laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "Just accept that there are people better than you Chenle."

Chenle shot him a disbelieving look, muttering something under his breath, but Haechan ignored him. Instead, he turned to you, his expression softening. "Alright Y/n, can you wait for me at the entrance? I still need to do my cash out and talk to them for a minute."

"Yeah, sure. It was nice meeting you all." You said, waving to the others as you made your way to the door.

"It was nice meeting you too!" Jisung called after you, the rest of them nodding or waving in agreement.

You walked out, heading toward the entrance. As you neared the door, a deep voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Where are you going?"

You turned around, and your breath hitched slightly. The man addressing you was easily the most attractive person you'd seen all night.

"Oh, I was just leaving." You said with a polite smile.

"Why so soon princess?" He asked, stepping closer, his voice low and smooth.

"My friend is leaving, so I'm going with him." You explained.

"Haechan?" He asked, tilting his head.

You nodded. "Yeah, that's him. You know him?"

He smirked. "Yeah, I know him. So... you're dating or something?"

You shook your head quickly. "No, we're just friends, but I came with him, so it's only right to leave with him."

"It's right to stay too." He countered, his voice dripping with charm. "I'd love to have a beautiful woman to look at a little longer."

You laughed softly, the flirty glint in his eyes making your cheeks warm. "Well, I won't stay beautiful if I don't get my beauty sleep. I'll be back, you'll have someone to stare at again."

He slipped five crisp $100 bills into your hand, his fingers brushing yours briefly. "You promise?" He murmured.

"Pinky promise." You replied with a playful smile.

Satisfied, he flashed you one last grin before walking away, leaving you slightly flustered and holding the money. You couldn't stop smiling as you waited for Haechan.

He appeared shortly after his own cash out complete. "Ready to go?"

"Yep." You said, following him out the door. The crisp night air hit your face, refreshing after the stuffy casino atmosphere. You climbed into Haechan's car, unable to contain the excitement bubbling inside you.

"I still can't believe this." You said as he started the engine. "$7,500 Haechan. Are you kidding me? That's so much money!"

Haechan glanced at you, his smile bright. "You did really good. I didn't even make that much tonight."

"Well, technically, I made $8,000." You held up the five $100 bills, laughing. "This random guy gave me this to promise I'd come back. I didn't even do anything!"

Haechan's smile fell slightly. "Wait, didn't I tell you not to talk to strangers?" His tone had shifted, becoming more serious.

Your excitement dimmed just a bit. "Well, he was a customer, obviously, so I didn't think it was a big deal. I didn't want to be rude."

Haechan sighed, his grip tightening on the wheel. "How could you be so sure it was a customer?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right." You said, your voice low with defeat.

He took a deep breath. "Just... be careful. Some of these guys, they'll push boundaries if you let them." He spoke softly, relaxing again.

You nodded, a small wave of unease washing over you. "I'll be more careful next time."

"Good." He said, his easygoing demeanor returned as a small smile painted his face.

You tilted your head in curiosity as you started to think. "So, isn't it just a regular casino? What makes it illegal?"

He chuckled softly, though there was a darker edge to it. "It's a lot more than just gambling Y/n. This place is a money laundering front. No taxes, no oversight. A lot of the cash that comes in is dirty—earned through illegal means. We clean it for them, and we profit off it. Also people can't snitch if we use them to keep playing. Like if someone drinks too much and blows a $1,000,000 check, that's not our fault and they just have to take that L."

You frowned. "That sounds... really shady. What about the people who lose all their money? Doesn't that bother you?"

"They're not innocent." He said, his voice firm. "Most of them are criminals or addicts. They're already hurting themselves or other people. We just benefit from it. That's the business."

His logic made sense, but it didn't sit entirely right with you. "I guess you're right..." You said softly, though a small frown lingered on your face.

Haechan glanced at you, his smile returning. "Don't overthink it. You're just here to make money, not solve the world's problems."

You nodded slowly, leaning back in your seat. "What happens if I don't want to go through with this?"

Haechan's cheerful expression dimmed slightly. He hesitated before answering, as if carefully choosing his words. "Well, you could just walk away. No one's going to stop you if you don't come back. But..." His voice dropped, and for the first time that night, he looked genuinely uncomfortable. "If you talk—if you go to the police, or try to blow the whistle, things get messy."

"Messy how?" You asked, your throat tightening.

He glanced at you, his gaze serious. "You could be arrested. They'll find a way to charge you with something without exposing themselves. And if that doesn't work..." He hesitated again, his grip tightening on the wheel. "You could... disappear."

"Disappear?" You echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Killed." He said bluntly, though his tone was soft. "But that's only if you snitch. As long as you keep your mouth shut, you're safe. I'll protect you from everything else. You just have to trust me."

You stared at him, his words sinking in like cold water. "I trust you." You said finally, though your voice was shaky.

Haechan's expression softened, his usual bright smile returning. "Good. I've been doing this for a long time Y/n. I know how to keep you safe."

He pulled up to your apartment building.

"Thanks for tonight." You said, your voice quieter now. "For taking care of me."

He smiled. "Anytime. Text me when you're inside, ok?"

You nodded, climbing out of the car and heading up to your apartment. Once inside, you dropped your things and leaned against the door, exhaling a shaky breath. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"You're okay, right?"

You smiled faintly, typing back.

"Yeah, I had fun. Thank you for caring about me this much."

His reply came almost instantly.

"Always."

You meant it when you said you trusted him, but as you stared at the $8,000 now sitting on your counter, a lingering unease settled in your chest. This all felt too good to be true. ══════════════════════════

The days turned into weeks, and before you knew it, you'd settled into a strange rhythm at the casino. You'd show up with Haechan, who would always meet you at your door, teasing you about taking forever to get ready.

"I swear you spend more time picking an outfit than we do making money." He'd joke, leaning against your doorframe with that familiar smirk that made your stomach twist.

"Maybe I like looking good for tips." You'd reply, brushing past him with a smile that was just as teasing.

It wasn't long before you learned the ins and outs of the job. Jisung and Chenle started treating you like one of the guys, offering pointers and cracking jokes about your mistakes. Mark was a constant source of encouragement, always reminding you to keep your head up when things got overwhelming.

And then there was Haechan.

He was always there—your partner, your guide, your protector. He would steer you away from customers he didn't trust, stand close when someone got too handsy, and give you a quiet thumbs up from across the room when he saw you closing out a big tip.

"You're a natural." He'd say whenever you doubted yourself, his voice warm and sincere in a way that made your chest ache.

It wasn't just his words. It was the way he would linger a little too long when handing you your coat, his fingers brushing against yours. The way his eyes would soften when you laughed, like he was seeing something he didn't know he needed.

You tried not to think too much about it. After all, this wasn't the kind of world where feelings could blossom freely. There was always a shadow hanging over you—an unspoken reminder that nothing about this life was safe.

Still, moments with Haechan felt... different. Like tonight.

The casino had been unusually packed, the noise and lights more overwhelming than usual. You worked the floor for hours, smiling until your cheeks hurt and dodging the advances of too drunk customers. By the time the night was over, you were exhausted, leaning against the wall near the entrance as you waited for Haechan.

"Long night?" His voice pulled you from your thoughts.

You looked up to see him standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets and that familiar playful smile tugging at his lips.

"Understatement." You muttered, pushing yourself off the wall.

He chuckled, tilting his head toward the exit. "C'mon. Let's get out of here."

The drive back was quiet at first, the hum of the engine filling the space between you, but then Haechan broke the silence.

"You've been killing it lately." He said, glancing at you. "Seriously. Even Chenle said he's impressed."

You smiled, the compliment warming you more than it should have. "Thanks. It's been... a lot to get used to, but I think I'm finally getting the hang of it."

"You are." He said softly, his tone more serious now. "You're doing great Y/n. Better than I expected."

"Better than you expected?" You teased, raising an eyebrow. "Wow, ouch."

He laughed, the sound filling the car. "That's not what I meant. I knew you'd do well—I just didn't think you'd handle everything this easily. It's not exactly... normal, you know?"

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. "Yeah, I know, but I've got you guys, so it helps."

His expression softened, and for a moment, he didn't say anything. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. "You've got me at least."

The words hung in the air, heavier than you expected. You glanced at him, your chest tightening at the way he looked at you—like he meant it, like he wanted you to believe it.

"I know, I've always have." You said, your voice just as soft.

The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence, the tension between you settling into something warm. When he dropped you off at your apartment, he lingered for a moment, leaning against the car door as you fumbled with your keys.

"Get some rest." He said, his tone lighter now. "You've earned it."

"You too." You replied, pausing in the doorway. "Haechan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For... everything."

He smiled, the kind of smile that felt like it was just for you. "Always."

You closed the door behind you, leaning against it as your heart raced.

The weeks continued to pass, each night at the casino blurring into the next. You found yourself looking forward to the moments you shared with Haechan, the quiet car rides and the easy banter that seemed to come so naturally.

It was in the way he'd stand a little too close when you talked, the way his hand would linger on your lower back as he guided you through the crowded floor. You told yourself it didn't mean anything, that it was just Haechan being Haechan, but deep down, you weren't so sure. ══════════════════════════ Rule two: never, ever go to this place without Haechan.

It was early evening when Haechan's text popped up on your phone. You were putting the finishing touches on your makeup, already running late.

"Don't bother getting ready tonight. I'm sick, and we're not going in."

You frowned, rereading the text. Your heart sank. Tuition was due in two days, and while you had some of the money saved up, you still needed tonight's cash out to cover the rest.

You quickly typed back.

"I need to go. Can't you power through just for a few hours?"

His response came faster than you expected.

"No Y/n. Just take the night off."

It was one of the rules he'd drilled into your head since day one: Never go to the casino alone. But the deadline for your tuition payment loomed over you, and staying home wasn't an option.

You made up your mind quickly, grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

The casino was just as chaotic as usual—loud music, flashing lights, and the hum of people talking, laughing, and gambling. Without Haechan by your side, it felt overwhelming, but you pushed past the nerves. You told yourself you'd just do a few rounds, make your money, and leave before anyone noticed you were there alone.

As you made your way through the floor, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Princess."

You turned around, your heart skipping a beat when you saw him—the guy from your first night, the one who'd slipped you $500. He looked just as attractive as you remembered, dressed sharply with an air of confidence that made him stand out even in a place like this.

"Leaving so soon?" He asked, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Uh, no. Just... getting started." You replied, trying to sound casual as your heart raced.

His smile widened, and he stepped closer. "What if, instead of working, you spend the night talking to me?"

You raised an eyebrow, half laughing. "You want to pay me to talk to you?"

"Why not?" He said smoothly. "I think you're interesting, and I'd like to get to know you better."

You hesitated, glancing around the room. "I don't even know your name."

"Jaemin." He said, holding out his hand.

You shook it, your gaze narrowing slightly. "That name sounds familiar."

"It should." He said, his smirk deepening. "I'm kind of a big deal around here."

You tilted your head, trying to place him, but nothing clicked. "I don't know what that means, but ok."

He chuckled, leaning in just enough to make your pulse quicken. "One conversation. I'll pay for your cash out tonight if you do."

You froze, your eyes narrowing. "How do you even know about cash outs?"

Jaemin's grin widened, his voice dropping lower. "Because I'm the boss sweetheart. The one who runs everything here."

Your heart stopped. "Wait—you're the boss?"

"Guilty." He said, his tone casual but his eyes locked on yours. "Now, about that conversation?"

You didn't have much of a choice. If he was really the boss, there was no way you could turn him down without risking your job—or worse.

"Alright," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "but I expect you to keep your promise."

"Always." He replied, his tone smooth as silk.

The two of you ended up in one of the VIP lounges, a secluded space far away from the noise of the casino floor. The atmosphere was intimate, the lighting low and warm.

"So," Jaemin said, leaning back on the couch and studying you with a faint smile. "Tell me about yourself."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Isn't this supposed to be about you?"

"I already know about me." He said, his tone teasing. "I want to know about you. What made you decide to work here?"

You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "I needed the money. Tuition's expensive, and this seemed... easier than working three part time jobs."

He nodded, his expression softening. "Fair enough. So, what's your major?"

"Business," you replied. "and before you ask—no, I'm not planning to end up in a place like this after I graduate."

Jaemin laughed, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Smart girl, but you know, you've got a natural talent for this. You could go far if you wanted to."

"I'll take that as a compliment." You said, your lips curving into a smile.

"You should. I'd be lying if I said you didn't catch my attention the moment I saw you."

You felt your cheeks heat up but managed to play it cool. "Well, you'll have to get used to disappointment. I'm not here for attention—I'm here for money."

Jaemin tilted his head, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again. "And here I was thinking you came back tonight because you couldn't stop thinking about me."

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. "You're ridiculous."

"Am I?" He asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Because I think I'm pretty good at reading people, and right now, I'm reading you."

"Oh yeah? And what's my story Mr. Boss?" you asked, crossing your arms and leaning back.

He mirrored your posture, smirking. "You're smart, ambitious, and probably way too good for a place like this, but you're also a little reckless—you wouldn't be here alone tonight if you weren't."

The flirtation in his voice was impossible to ignore, and your heart picked up speed. "Maybe I'm just bad at following rules." You said, your tone light but your gaze steady.

"Good," Jaemin said, his voice dropping an octave. "I like people who know how to break the rules."

The way he said it made your stomach flip, and for a moment, you were grateful for the low lighting that hid your expression.

"Careful." You said, forcing a smirk. "I might start to think you're the reckless one."

"Who's to say I'm not?" He replied smoothly. He leaned back, watching you like he was waiting for you to challenge him further.

The energy between you was magnetic. It wasn't until Jaemin's next comment that your breath caught.

"Tell me something princess." He said, his voice soft, but deliberate. "Do you always play hard to get, or is that just for me?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. The intensity in his gaze made it impossible to think straight.

"You really think I'm playing?" You managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smirk deepened, and he leaned in just enough to make your pulse race. "I think you're having fun, but if I'm wrong, you can tell me to stop anytime."

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. Before you could say anything, the moment was interrupted.

"Jaemin."

Both of you turned to see Haechan standing in the doorway, his expression stormy. His eyes flicked between you and Jaemin, his jaw clenched tight.

Jaemin stood, his demeanor casual despite the tension radiating from Haechan. "If it's about business it can wait." Jaemin said, his tone light but firm.

"It's not." Haechan replied, his voice clipped. "Can we talk? Alone."

Jaemin glanced at you, his smirk softening into something almost reassuring. "Don't go anywhere princess. I'll be right back."

As soon as the door closed behind them, you braced yourself. It didn't take long before Haechan came back, his expression darker than before.

Haechan's shoulders tensed as he stared at you, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought he might snap. "I just don't understand why you'd risk everything by coming here alone. Did you even think about what could've happened to you?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm reckless Haechan." You shot back, your voice sharp. "I'm not stupid. I was careful, and you weren't here. What was I supposed to do? Sit at home and hope for the best while my tuition goes unpaid?"

His nostrils flared, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice but not his intensity. "You were supposed to trust me. I told you I'd take care of it, and instead, you went behind my back and broke the most important rule here."

"Trust you?" You echoed, scoffing bitterly. "You mean the way you've been keeping things from me? Like the fact that Jaemin owns this place? You want me to trust you, but you don't even tell me the full truth."

Haechan flinched slightly, guilt flashing in his eyes before frustration took over again. "I didn't tell you about Jaemin because I didn't want you getting mixed up with him. He's—"

"He's what?" you interrupted, your anger boiling over. "Because from where I'm standing, he's the only one who's been upfront with me tonight. And maybe if you had been honest from the start, I wouldn't have felt the need to come here on my own."

His hands curled into fists at his sides, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. "You don't get it, do you? This isn't just some game. Jaemin isn't some harmless guy throwing money around—he's dangerous Y/n. I've seen what happens to people who cross him. I didn't tell you because I was trying to protect you!"

"Protect me?" You repeated, shaking your head. "You're not protecting me Haechan. You're treating me like I'm incapable of making my own decisions, and I'm tired of it."

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a heavy cloud. Haechan's shoulders sagged slightly, his expression softening but still guarded. "I'm not trying to control you." He said quietly, his voice almost breaking. "I just—"

He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair as he looked away.

"You just what?" You pressed, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else you couldn't quite place.

"I don't want to lose you." He finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The vulnerability in his words hit you harder than you expected, but it wasn't enough to extinguish the frustration still simmering in your chest.

"You don't get to say that after everything." You said, your tone softer but still firm. "You don't get to act like you care and then keep me in the dark."

His jaw worked as he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "You're right." He said, his voice heavy. "I messed up, but you still shouldn't have come here alone."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "And you shouldn't have lied to me. Looks like we both messed up."

"Let's just go." He said after a long pause, his voice low.

You nodded stiffly, still too angry to say more. As the two of you walked out of the lounge, Jaemin's voice followed you.

"Leaving so soon princess?" He called, his tone laced with amusement.

Haechan didn't even look back, his hand brushing your arm as he gently guided you toward the exit.

The car ride was silent, the air between you thick with unresolved tension. You stared out the window, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, while Haechan gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

As you approached your apartment, he finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "We'll talk about this later."

You didn't respond, but the flicker of hurt in his tone made your chest ache. As much as you wanted to hold onto your anger, you couldn't shake the feeling that tonight had changed something between you. ══════════════════════════

The tension between you and Haechan was suffocating, and the silence in the car lingered long after you had arrived home. He didn't follow you inside, didn't offer his usual lingering goodbye, just sat in the driver's seat, gripping the wheel, his knuckles white as if he was fighting every instinct to say something.

You didn't look back when you walked into your apartment, but the guilt started to settle in the moment you closed the door behind you. Still, your frustration bubbled just beneath the surface. You knew Haechan cared, but you also felt trapped under the weight of his protectiveness, like he didn't see you as someone capable of standing on your own.

As you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You hesitated before grabbing it, expecting a text from Haechan, but instead a random number flashed across the screen.

"Did you make it home safely princess?"

Jaemin. Your lips twitched into a small smile despite the events of the evening. Why does he care? you wondered.

"Yeah, I'm home. Thanks for asking."

Almost immediately, he replied.

"Good. You shouldn't let Haechan get to you too much. He's always been protective, but he means well."

You stared at the message, your mind racing. Why does it feel like he knows so much?

"How did you even get my number?"

"I have my ways."

Your stomach twisted at his vague response, a strange mix of unease and intrigue coursing through you.

"That's not an answer Jaemin."

"Let's just say I make it my business to know the people who interest me. And you Y/n, are very interesting."

Your cheeks flushed at the implication, but a small part of you bristled at the invasion of privacy.

"You're really something else, huh?"

"Only for you princess."

Before you could respond, another text came through.

"I'd rather see that smile of yours in person than try to guess how you're feeling through a screen. Think you can handle another night at the lounge soon?"

Your heart skipped a beat. He was so smooth, so disarming, and it was hard not to be charmed by his confidence. But after tonight, you weren't sure how you felt about stepping foot in the lounge again.

"We'll see. I don't want to cause any more trouble."

"You're not trouble Y/n. You're a breath of fresh air in a room full of suffocating smoke."

Your heart fluttered, you hated how easily his words affected you.

"Goodnight Jaemin."

"Sweet dreams princess."

You set your phone down, biting your lip to suppress a smile, but the weight of your fight with Haechan lingered. You knew you'd have to face him again soon, and the thought filled you with equal parts dread and anticipation.

The next morning, you weren't surprised when Haechan showed up at your apartment. He didn't knock, just let himself in with the spare key you'd given him months ago. You found him leaning against your kitchen counter, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

"We need to talk." He said, his voice low, but steady.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself. "I know."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm still mad. I'm furious actually, but more than that, I'm scared. You don't understand how dangerous Jaemin is Y/n. He's not some harmless flirt—he's the kind of guy who could ruin your life without blinking."

You flinched at his words, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "And what if I can handle him? What if I don't need you swooping in to save me all the time?"

Haechan's jaw clenched. "It's not about you needing me. It's about the fact that I can't sit back and watch you get hurt. You're too important to me."

Your breath caught at the intensity in his voice, and for a moment, you didn't know what to say.

"Haechan..."

He shook his head, stepping closer. "I know I've been holding back, not telling you everything, but it's not because I don't trust you—it's because I don't trust him. Jaemin doesn't do anything without a reason, and if he's got his eyes on you, it's not because he's just being nice."

You frowned, your chest tightening with a mix of emotions. "I can't just ignore him Haechan. He knows things—about the lounge, about you, about me. Part of me feels like if I don't play along, it'll only make things worse."

His eyes softened, but his frustration was still evident. "If you think Jaemin is the kind of person you can play along with, you don't know him like I do."

"I'm not an idiot." You snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. "I don't need you to lecture me about how dangerous he is. I'm just trying to figure this out on my own terms, without you controlling every step I take."

His jaw tightened, and his voice dropped. "Then figure it out, but don't come crying to me when it blows up in your face."

Your chest tightened, his words cutting deeper than you expected. "So that's it? You're just done?"

Haechan's expression was stormy, but there was an unmistakable sadness in his eyes. "I don't want to be, but I can't protect you if you keep running straight into the fire."

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to hold back tears. "Maybe I don't need your protection Haechan. Maybe I just need you to trust me."

He didn't say anything for a long moment, his gaze fixed on you as if searching for something. Finally, he exhaled sharply and grabbed his jacket.

"Well I don't." He said flatly, heading for the door. "Since you're so big and bad now, figure it out yourself."

══════════════════════════ Rule #3: never go home with anyone.

The door slammed behind Haechan, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment, and for a moment, you just stood there, staring at the space he left. The words he'd said still stung—especially the way he'd walked out without looking back, as if you weren't even worth the fight anymore.

You didn't know why it hurt so much. Maybe it was the way he'd always been there, his protective instincts always so fierce. Or maybe it was the way he'd seemed to abandon you when you needed him most. Either way, the emptiness in your chest wasn't something you could ignore.

You sank onto the couch, trying to clear your head. You don't need him, you thought. You're strong enough to handle this on your own, but as much as you told yourself that, the ache in your heart didn't fade.

After a while, you found yourself reaching for your phone and staring at Jaemin's number, the memory of his charming words still lingering in your mind. He'd always known how to make you smile, how to make you feel like you were the only person in the room. Honestly, right now, you needed that distraction.

You hesitated for a moment before typing out a simple message.

"Hey, are you working tonight?"

You didn't have to wait long for his reply.

"I'm always working, but I'm free if you need some company. You gonna come see me tonight?"

There was something about the way he phrased it that made your stomach flutter. You knew what he meant, and despite the mess that had just unfolded with Haechan, you felt the pull toward him. Maybe it was wrong, maybe it wasn't the healthiest decision, but in that moment, you didn't care. You wanted to feel wanted again.

"I'll be there in a bit."

You changed quickly, putting on something that made you feel confident. You weren't exactly sure what was drawing you back to the casino, but you had to admit, Jaemin was part of the reason. The way he looked at you, the way he made you feel like you were the center of his world, it was intoxicating. It was exactly what you needed after the fight with Haechan.

The casino was as chaotic as always when you arrived, but the moment you stepped through the door, your eyes immediately found Jaemin. He was talking to someone, but the second he saw you, his gaze sharpened, and a smile spread across his face.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to grace me with her presence." Jaemin said, walking toward you. His presence seemed to fill the room in a way that made you feel all eyes on you.

"Couldn't resist, huh?" He added, a playful glint in his eyes.

"I guess not." You replied, unable to fight the small smile tugging at your lips. You leaned against the bar as he approached, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel the tension between you, the unspoken connection that had been simmering from the moment you first met him.

Jaemin stepped in closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "So, what's a beautiful woman like you doing here all alone? Shouldn't you be somewhere safer?"

The way he said "safer" made it sound like a challenge, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

"I don't know," you answered, keeping your voice steady, "maybe I wanted to see you again."

His smile widened, and without missing a beat, he placed his hand lightly on your back, guiding you away from the bar. "I'm glad you did. I was starting to think I'd have to drag you here myself."

You chuckled at the thought, but there was no mistaking the way he was looking at you now. His hand lingered lower on your back, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

As you both moved through the crowd, Jaemin leaned in closer, his voice just above a whisper. "I've been thinking about you Y/n. You've been on my mind since that night at the casino."

His words were smooth, but it was the intensity in his eyes that made your stomach tighten.

"Have you?" You asked, voice dropping to match his intimacy. You were close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating off him, his proximity making your heart race.

"Yeah." Jaemin replied, a sly smile playing on his lips. "I can't help myself when I see someone as stunning as you. I like the way you move, the way you talk, the way you look at me." His fingers brushed the edge of your arm as he spoke.

You didn't pull away. You couldn't. "Well, maybe you shouldn't have been so bold then." You teased, your breath catching in your throat as his gaze darkened.

"I'm bold because I know exactly what I want." Jaemin said, his voice a smooth caress against your ear as he leaned in even closer. "And right now, I want you."

You swallowed hard, the tension between you two almost unbearable now. "What are you saying Jaemin?"

He stopped walking and turned to face you, his hand gently cupping your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. "I'm saying... maybe you should come back to my place tonight. We can skip all the small talk and go straight to what we both want."

Your breath hitched. You could feel the heat rising between you, but even then there was a lingering thought in the back of your mind—Haechan. You had just had a fight with him, but did that mean you had to go through with this?

Jaemin didn't wait for your answer. "You don't have to decide now, but I'm not going to ask again." He whispered, his lips so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath. "Let's see where the night takes us."

And before you could stop yourself, you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "Okay."

You followed him out of the casino, your heart racing as you left behind everything familiar—everything safe. Jaemin's house was breathtakingly luxurious—sleek and modern, with high ceilings and expansive glass walls that reflected the glittering city lights, but you didn't get much of a chance to take it in. His focus was entirely on you, and you were too consumed by him to care about your surroundings.

The moment the door shut behind you, his hands found your waist, pulling you against him. His lips crashed into yours, hungry and demanding. There was no hesitation, no time for second thoughts. He guided you deeper into the house.

Jaemin's kiss was intoxicating, his tongue teasing yours as he deepened it, his hands gripping your hips like he never wanted to let go. You barely noticed when he guided you into a room, sitting you on the cool surface of a dresser. His body moved between your legs effortlessly, as if he'd always belonged there.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes blazing with unspoken desire. "So pretty." He whispered, his voice rough yet tender. His lips found your jawline, trailing soft kisses down your neck. Each touch sent shivers cascading down your spine, his hands squeezing your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the dresser until there was no space left between you.

Your breath hitched as he kissed harsher now, his lips sucking at the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving marks. You couldn't stop the soft moans escaping your lips, your fingers tangling in his hair as he worked his way deeper into your senses. His touch, his scent, his presence—it was overwhelming.

Jaemin's hands slid lower, gripping the curve of your hips as he pressed you against him. He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged. "You sure about this?" He asked, his voice low.

You smiled, biting your lip, your voice barely steady. "I'm sure."

His lips curled into a smirk, satisfaction evident. Without wasting another moment, he lifted you off the dresser and turned you toward the large mirror across the room. Your reflection stared back at you, flushed and disheveled, as he bent you over the smooth wooden surface. His hands roamed down your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake as his lips found the back of your neck.

"Look how pretty you are." He murmured, his deep voice washing over you. His eyes locked on yours through the mirror, a mixture of admiration and desire in his gaze.

As he slid your dress up over your hips, exposing more of your skin to the air, you felt your breath hitch. His lips trailed down the back of your neck, leaving a trail of soft, open mouthed kisses that sent tingles down your spine.

The warmth of his hands returned, firm and sure as they settled on your hips, holding you in place. One hand slid lower, his fingers brushing against the sensitive heat between your legs. Even through the fabric, the contact made you tremble.

His smirk widened as he watched your reflection react to his touch, your lips parting in a soft gasp. "And you're so wet for me already." He whispered, his tone teasing yet dripping with satisfaction.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from the mirror. His fingers pressed against you more firmly, circling in a way that had your knees weakening beneath you.

"You feel that?" He asked, his voice low and rough against your ear as he leaned over you, his chest brushing against your back. "That's how much you want this. How much you want me."

You nodded, unable to find your voice, your body responding to his touch in ways words couldn't capture. He grinned at your reflection, his confidence intoxicating as he pressed a kiss to the side of your neck.

"Good." He murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Because I'm not stopping until I've had all of you.

Jaemin's eyes stayed locked on yours through the mirror as he reached down, pulling away the last barrier of clothing keeping you from him. His gaze never left, taking in every inch of your exposed skin, the heat in his expression enough to make your pulse race. His fingers trailed teasingly along your inner thigh, drawing shivers from your body before finally sliding between your folds.

When he slipped one finger inside, your breath caught, and a soft moan escaped your lips. "Jaemin." You whimpered, your head falling forward slightly as your body instinctively pressed back against his hand. He didn't hold back, setting a relentless pace that had your knees trembling almost immediately.

"What's the matter?" He asked, his voice low and taunting, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Can't handle it? You're gonna have a rough time if you can't even take my fingers princess." His laughter was dark and quiet through the room as he pushed another finger inside.

"I can take it." You shot back, your voice laced with determination—though the words broke into a shaky moan as his fingers curled just right, brushing against that spot that made you see stars.

"Yeah?" He replied, his tone both amused and challenging. He quickened his pace, his fingers pumping in and out of you, the slight curve of them sending waves of pleasure rolling through your body. "Then take it. Show me you can handle it."

Your stomach tightened, the coil of heat building steadily as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. "Fuck... oh my god" You gasped, your hands gripping the edge of the dresser for support as your legs started to quake.

Jaemin's smirk widened, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "It's okay. Don't fight it. Just let go for me. Soak my fingers princess." His words were both commanding and soothing, pushing you right to the brink.

"I'm there." You managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper as your body gave in. Your knees buckled, and a flood of warmth coursed through you.

Jaemin slowed his movements but didn't stop, milking every last tremor from your body before finally pulling his fingers out. He lifted his hand into view, his fingers glistening as he tilted them slightly.

"Look." He said with a satisfied smile. "Look at what you did."

You barely managed to lift your head, still catching your breath, but when your eyes met his in the mirror, the smirk on his face sent a fresh wave of heat through you. He brought his fingers closer, holding them in front of your lips.

"Clean me up." He ordered softly, his eyes dark with desire.

Your tongue flicked out, tasting yourself as you took his fingers into your mouth, your lips wrapping around them. The way he watched you, his gaze heavy and unwavering, sent a shiver down your spine. When you were finished, he pulled his fingers away slowly, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Such a good girl for me." He murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"Turn around for me." Jaemin murmured, his voice low and commanding, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you could move, he grasped your chin gently, tilting your face up to his. His lips met yours in another deep, hungry kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. When he finally pulled away, his lips were slightly swollen, and his gaze burned into yours.

"Now, take my pants off." He whispered.

You didn't hesitate. Your hands moved quickly to undo the button and zipper, pulling his pants down his hips and letting them pool around his ankles. Your fingers hovered teasingly at the waistband of his underwear for a moment, your eyes flicking up to meet his. The faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips gave you all the encouragement you needed. You slid the last piece of fabric down, freeing him completely.

"Good." He praised, his voice a soft growl. "Now turn back around."

You obeyed, turning to face the mirror again. His hands settled on your hips as he stepped closer, the heat of his body radiating against your back. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke.

"I want you to look at yourself the whole time I'm fucking you. Don't you dare look anywhere else. Do you understand?"

"Yes." You whispered breathlessly, your body already trembling in anticipation.

"Good." He murmured, his lips curving into a grin as he teased your entrance with the tip of his length.

He paused for just a moment, his eyes locked on yours in the mirror, savoring the way your body reacted to his teasing. Then, without warning, he pushed his full length into you in one smooth motion.

"Fuck." You whimpered, your fingers gripping the edge of the dresser as your body adjusted to the stretch. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve alive and buzzing.

"You're so fucking tight." Jaemin groaned, his voice a breathy moan, almost like a chuckle. His hands gripped your hips firmly, his fingers pressing into your skin as he began to move, his thrusts deep.

"You're taking me so well." He murmured, his eyes dark and intense as they met yours in the mirror. "Like this pretty little hole was made just for me." His smirk was wicked, dripping with satisfaction as he watched you.

The room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, your moans and his low groans. Every thrust was harder than the last, and his grip on your plush thighs tightened, holding you steady as he drove into you relentlessly.

The pressure was overwhelming, instinctively your head began to lower, seeking relief from the intensity.

"What did I tell you?" Jaemin's voice cut through, sharp and demanding.

"To... to look up the whole time." You stammered, your voice shaky and weak.

"Then why are you looking down?" He asked, his breath hitching slightly even as he kept his relentless pace.

"It feels so good." You whimpered. "I... I can't take it."

He chuckled darkly. "Then I'll make you take it."

One of his hands slid into your hair, gripping a fistful and pulling your head back up. Your eyes met his in the mirror again, and the intensity in his gaze sent another wave of heat crashing through you.

He picked up his pace, thrusting into you harder and deeper. The sound of your bodies colliding filled the room, drowning out everything else. Your back arched as he pulled your hair tighter, forcing you to keep your eyes on the mirror.

"Such a filthy slut," he growled, his voice low and rough. "but you can't take it, hm?"

You tried to respond, to form words, but all that escaped were broken moans and gasps, your voice caught in your throat as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak.

"Fuck." Jaemin groaned, his pace faltering for just a moment as his thrusts grew rougher. "I'm almost there. You gonna cum with me?"

You nodded frantically, unable to speak, your body trembling as your stomach tightened.

"Good fucking slut." He rasped, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove into you with one final thrust.

The two of you came undone together, your release washing over you so intense you thought you might collapse. Jaemin's groans mixed with your cries as he spilled into you, his grip on your body grounding you as you both rode out the last moments of pleasure.

His hands softened, sliding up your sides and pulling you gently against his chest. He pressed a kiss to your temple, his breathing still ragged.

"You did so well." He whispered, his tone soft and full of praise. "So fucking perfect."

You forgot about the fight with Haechan, about the rules you'd broken. Well, you tried, but as you got cleaned up you couldn't stop thinking about him. ═════════════════════════ Jaemin had gotten a call that he needed to return to the casino to handle some business. The car ride back was unnervingly silent, and when you finally arrived, he didn't spare a moment. Without so much as a glance your way, he rushed inside, leaving you behind.

You sighed, shaking your head before following him in. You finally reached the office. Inside, Mark, Jisung, and Chenle were gathered in conversation over some paperwork.

"Where did you two go?" Mark asked, getting up from his chair the moment he saw you.

"To his house." You replied casually, brushing off the weight of the evening.

"To his what?" Mark stuttered, his voice rising slightly. His eyes flickered to Jisung, who immediately froze mid gesture.

"Are you okay?" Jisung added, a hint of worry in his tone as he exchanged a wide eyed look with Mark.

"Yes, I'm fine. Why are you asking me that?" You asked, growing defensive under their intense stares.

"Well..." Jisung hesitated, leaning back in his chair. "No one ever goes to Jaemin's house. I mean no one." He paused, sucking his teeth.

"Well, at least no one who's seen again." Chenle said without looking up from his papers.

You blinked at him, stunned by his bluntness. "I'm here, aren't I?" You replied, forcing a smile. "I really think he likes me."

Jisung and Mark exchanged another skeptical look, their eyebrows rising simultaneously.

"He definitely treats you differently." Jisung admitted.

Mark on the other hand scoffed lightly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You couldn't go after someone a little safer though?" He teased.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "Someone like who?"

"Someone like Haechan." Mark suggested, his smirk widening.

"Haechan doesn't even like me." You shot back, shaking your head.

Mark's smile twisted slightly, awkwardness replacing his teasing. Chenle for the first time looked up from his papers and locked eyes with Jisung. A shared understanding passed between them.

"Oh, um... I don't think that's—" Mark started to say, but his words were cut off as the door swung open.

"What's up guys?" Haechan said, walking in like he owned the room. His sharp eyes swept over everyone, lingering briefly on you before moving on.

"Hey Haechan." Mark greeted, forcing a casual tone.

"Hey." You added, offering him a small smile.

Haechan nodded at you but didn't stop to engage, heading straight for Mark.

"Haechan." Mark blurted, clearly still in disbelief. "Y/n actually made it to Jaemin's house."

Haechan froze for a moment, then chuckled. "Yeah, I know." He said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I'm surprised she made it back." His gaze flickered to you.

"What's that supposed to mean Haechan?" You asked, your voice rising slightly with offense.

"Oh, I don't know." He replied coolly. "Maybe that you could've been killed. You do realize no one makes it out of Jaemin's house, right?"

You glared at him. "Well, you never told me that."

"It's almost like I did though." He snapped, his jaw tightening.

"I survived, ok? I'm fine." You crossed your arms, but he wasn't looking at you anymore. He turned his back and walked toward the counter, busying himself with some documents.

Mark mouthed something to you, gesturing toward Haechan with pleading eyes: "Make it right."

You sighed deeply, swallowing your pride. Rubbing the back of your neck, you walked up behind Haechan and gently touched his arm. "Can we talk Haechan? Please?"

He stiffened at your touch, turning his head slightly to glance at you. His eyes were dark, and unreadable. "Didn't I tell you I was done with you?" He hissed. His words stung more than you cared to admit.

"Haechan, please." You said softly. "I don't want you to be done with me. Can we just... talk?"

For a moment, his expression softened, the anger in his eyes replaced by something you couldn't quite place. He sighed. "Fine, but only for a second."

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of the room, leading you down a secluded hallway. The narrow space left little room for distance, forcing you both closer than you'd been in weeks.

"What?" He asked sharply, his voice low and full with frustration.

"Haechan." You began, your voice quiet. "I'm sorry, but what did you expect me to do?"

"I don't know—maybe listen to me. Not break my trust. Not put yourself in danger." He shot back, his words tumbling out in a rush.

"I can protect myself." You said, trying to meet his gaze.

His laugh was bitter. "Y/n, Jaemin is dangerous. You seriously could've been killed. Do you have any idea how bad this night could've gone?"

"But it didn't," you countered. "I'm fine. I made it back."

"You think this is the end of it? You've put yourself in a situation you can't get out of. What happens when he gets angry at you? What happens if you piss him off—if one night he decides you're not worth his time anymore?" His voice cracked slightly, his vulnerability slipping through. "You don't get second chances with people like him."

You stepped closer, cupping his face in your hands. His breath hitched at the sudden touch, his eyes searching yours.

"Haechan." You whispered, "I know I've made mistakes. I know I've hurt you, but I trust you, and I need you to trust me too."

"It's not that I don't trust you." He murmured, his hands ghosting over your sides before he pulled them away. "I just... I can't let anything happen to you. I'll never forgive myself if I do."

You leaned in closer, your forehead brushing against his. "Nothing's going to happen. I promise, i'm right here."

For a moment, the world fell away as your lips met his. The kiss was soft, yet filled with an unspoken longing. When he pulled back his eyes were glossy, his lips slightly parted.

"Go home." He whispered.

"Haechan—"

"Go home." He repeated, shaking his head. "I'll call you a car, but you can't stay here."

Reluctantly you nodded. "Ok."

You lingered for a moment longer before turning and walking away, your heart heavy, but hopeful as you exited the casino.

══════════════════════════

It was another night that you had spent there without Haechan. It wasn't the first time, but after the talk you both had you wanted him to be there with you at least.

Taking a small break, you slipped into the back office when your phone buzzed with a notification.

"Darling, can you meet me in the private hallway, please? I know you're here."

Jaemin's text sent your heart racing. Without hesitation, you rushed to the hallway, trying to figure out what he wanted. When you arrived, you saw him standing there—with Haechan.

A smile played on Jaemin's lips as you approached. "You needed me?" You asked, glancing briefly at Haechan, whose expression was unreadable.

"Of course. I always need you princess." Jaemin replied smoothly. Then he turned to Haechan, his tone sharpening. "But I think Haechan needs you too. Isn't that right Haechan?"

"Jaemin, what are you talking about?" Haechan stammered, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips.

"Answer the question. Do you need her?" Jaemin pressed, his gaze unwavering.

Haechan's composure faltered. "Yes," he admitted softly. "I need her."

Jaemin smirked. "You know, I reviewed the security footage and saw you two here in this very hallway." His tone grew colder. "I don't like people taking what's mine Haechan, you know that."

"I'm sorry Jaemin. I didn't realize things were that serious between you two." Haechan said, glancing nervously at you.

Jaemin stepped closer. "Have you fucked her yet?"

The bluntness of the question caught Haechan off guard. "No." He replied quickly.

"But you've thought about it, haven't you?" Jaemin pressed, his voice dangerously calm. "You want to, don't you?"

Haechan hesitated, his throat dry. Jaemin had a way of knowing everything—even things you didn't fully realize about yourself.

"Yes." Haechan admitted, his voice barely audible.

"Yes what?" Jaemin demanded, tilting his head.

"Yes, I want to fuck her." Haechan said, glancing your way before looking down.

Jaemin turned his attention to you. "And what about you princess? You've thought about it too, haven't you?"

Your stomach churned. Lying wasn't an option—not with Jaemin. His piercing gaze demanded the truth.

"Yes," you confessed quietly. "I've thought about it."

Haechan glanced up at you for a second, a gleam of light shining in his eyes. Jaemin's smirk widened. "Good. Tell me, which one of us do you want more?"

Your eyes flickered to Haechan for a moment, he shook his head, looking your eyes before you answered. "You Jaemin. Of course."

He seemed satisfied with your response. "Come here princess." He commanded softly.

You stepped closer.

"Get on your knees for me."

Obediently, you sank to your knees before him, looking up with wide, vulnerable eyes.

Haechan shifted uncomfortably. "Uh... maybe I should go—"

"No." Jaemin interrupted firmly. "Stay right here."

He turned back to you. "Princess, pull my pants down. Make me feel good. Maybe I'll forgive you."

You obeyed, your hands trembling slightly as you pulled his pants and underwear down, freeing him.

"Don't act shy." He teased, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "You've seen it before."

You took him into your mouth slowly, earning a low groan from him. His hand found its way into your hair, guiding you gently at first, then with increasing intensity.

"Fuck, just like that." He praised, his voice husky.

Haechan's breath hitched as he watched. He tried to look away but couldn't, getting more turned on by the second.

Jaemin's grip on your hair tightened as he thrust deeper, his groans growing louder. "You're doing so good baby. Keep going."

The wet sounds him in your mouth filled the hallway, along with Jaemin's moans and the occasional choked gasp from you.

Haechan's hands clenched at his sides, his arousal straining against his pants.

"I'm close." Jaemin groaned, his movements growing frantic. "Let me finish in your throat."

Moments later, he spilled into your mouth, his release warm. You swallowed, wiping your face as Jaemin smiled down at you.

"You did so well princess." He murmured, stroking your cheek. Then his gaze shifted to Haechan.

"Now it's his turn."

"What?!" Haechan exclaimed, his voice rising. "I'm not sucking your dick Jaemin!"

Jaemin rolled his eyes. "You're such a fucking idiot Haechan. Y/n, baby, go to him."

You crawled over to Haechan, your eyes searching his for permission. "Can I?" You asked softly.

Haechan's lips parted as he nodded, his breaths shallow. "Yeah... you can."

Your fingers worked at his waistband, unbuttoning and unzipping slowly. When you freed him, his dick was hard and twitching.

"Are you sure?" You whispered again.

"Yes, I'm sure." He replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

You leaned forward, taking him into your mouth. His moans were soft at first, then grew louder as you moved. His hands hovered uncertainly before settling lightly on your head.

"Fuck Y/n." He whimpered, his voice cracking with pleasure.

Jaemin watched intently, a smirk tugging at his lips.

When Haechan's hips began to buck, Jaemin interjected. "Stop."

You and Haechan froze, turning to look at him.

"I want you to fuck her." Jaemin said, his tone low and commanding. "Finish inside her."

"Man you're a pervert." Haechan muttered under his breath before turning back to you. "Do you want this?" He asked, his voice tender.

"Yes." You answered, your cheeks flushed. "More than anything."

Moments later, Haechan had you pressed against the wall, your dress pushed up and underwear discarded. His movements were tentative at first, ensuring you were comfortable, but soon his thrusts grew harder, more desperate.

"Fuck, feels so good." He moaned out in a smile. He wanted you like this for a while, and now he finally had it, even if Jaemin was there to see it.

"Gonna cum, Haechan." You moaned out, throwing your head back on the cold, hard wall.

"Me too." he whimpered, becoming undone as your walls clenched around him.

"You gonna finish deep inside me, hm? Fill me up with your seed?" You whispered out in a breathy moan.

"Fuck, yes." Haechan whimpered out, twitching inside of you as your stomach tightened.

Jaemin just watched the scene unfold, his cock twitching as he looked at the both of you moving on each other. He didn't want to admit it, but it was hotter than he imagined.

Haechan finished in you, taking a deep breath as he twitched in you for a second. You both came down from your highs, avoiding eye contact as he exited you.

"Well, that was worth watching." Jaemin spoke. "Now you two get cleaned up and meet me in the office. I have some news." You two obliged, getting cleaned up before meeting the others in the office. ══════════════════════════

The door swung open, and the room fell silent as Jaemin stepped in, his presence commanding as ever. His sharp gaze swept across everyone, warning them not to interrupt.

"Good to see everyone working so hard." Jaemin said with a faint smirk, his tone deceptively light. He sauntered toward your desk, stopping in front of you with an unreadable expression. "Y/n, stand up."

Confused, you obeyed, your eyes flickering to Haechan, who was already frowning. Mark and Chenle exchanged glances, but no one said anything.

Jaemin cleared his throat, placing a hand on your shoulder as he addressed the room. "I wanted to let you all know that Y/n will no longer be working here."

The air grew thick, you stiffening as your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

"What?" Haechan's voice was sharp, breaking the stunned silence. He stood up, his jaw clenched as he stared at Jaemin.

Jaemin smiled faintly, ignoring Haechan's outburst. "She's moving in with me."

Mark's eyes widened, and Chenle shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Jisung stared at the floor, unwilling to meet anyone's gaze. No one dared to speak out, but their unease was intense.

"Jaemin, I—" You started to say, but his hand tightened on your shoulder, silencing you.

"It's not up for discussion." Jaemin said, his gaze locking with Haechan's. "She'll be safer with me, and I'm sure you all understand that."

Haechan took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. "You can't just—"

"Haechan." Jaemin's voice was calm but carried an edge of warning. "It's done. You should be glad I'm looking after her."

You glanced at Haechan, seeing the hurt and anger swirling in his eyes. He looked at you with betrayal.

"Y/n." Jaemin said, his tone softening slightly as he turned to you. "Go wait for me outside. I'll join you in a moment."

You hesitated, looking back at Haechan, who shook his head slightly, as if begging you not to go, but you nodded at Jaemin and walked out of the room, your heart heavy.

The hallway was quiet, but you could hear Haechan's heavy footsteps behind you before he even said a word. You turned, catching the stormy look on his face as he approached.

"Y/n." He said, his voice low. "What the hell are you doing? You can't just go with him."

You blinked, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. "Why not? He's just being protective, right? I mean, he said I'll be safer with him." You shrugged, forcing a smile. "Makes sense to me."

Haechan stared at you like you'd just grown a second head. "Are you serious right now? You really think Jaemin's doing this out of the goodness of his heart?"

You tilted your head. "Well... yeah? I mean, he's been really sweet to me. Maybe he just, I don't know, likes me?"

Haechan let out a bitter laugh, rubbing his hand over his face. "Y/n, he doesn't like anyone. He doesn't care about anyone. You're not moving in with him because he's sweet on you—you're moving in with him because he wants to control you."

"That's a little dramatic." You said, crossing your arms. "He hasn't done anything to hurt me."

"Yet." Haechan snapped. "He hasn't done anything yet. Do you know how many people have gone to Jaemin's house and never been seen again? Do you know what kind of man he really is?"

You sighed, stepping closer and placing a hand on his arm. "Haechan, you're worrying over nothing. I'll be fine. He's not going to do anything to me—I mean, I survived last time, didn't I?"

"That's not the point!" Haechan snapped. "You're not taking this seriously, Y/n. He's dangerous. This isn't some fairytale where everything turns out fine just because you smile and say you'll be okay."

"I am okay." You insisted, your tone firm but still lighthearted. "You're just overthinking it. Jaemin likes me, and he's not going to hurt me. I mean, come on—look at me. Who would want to hurt this?" You gestured to yourself, flashing him a playful grin.

Haechan's jaw tightened, his frustration through the roof. "This isn't a joke Y/n. I'm not 'overthinking it.' I'm telling you you're walking straight into a trap, and you're acting like it's nothing."

You softened a little, stepping even closer. "Haechan, I get it. You're worried about me, and I appreciate that, but I need you to trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"No, you don't." He said flatly, his voice dropping. "You don't know anything about what you're doing. You're just... you're just trusting him like he hasn't already shown you who he is."

"I trust myself." You said, your tone turning stubborn. "And I trust you to be there for me if something does go wrong."

His eyes softened for just a moment before hardening again. "You shouldn't have to count on me to save you. You should listen to me before it gets to that point."

You shrugged, offering him a small, almost apologetic smile. "But where's the fun in that?"

"Y/n." He said sharply, stepping closer so you could see the anger and hurt in his eyes. "I'm not kidding. This isn't a game. If you go with him, I don't know if I'll be able to protect you. I don't know if I'll even see you again."

Your chest tightened at the raw emotion in his voice, but you kept your expression light. "You're being dramatic again. I'll be fine Haechan. I promise."

He stared at you for a long moment, searching your face as if trying to find some crack in your confidence. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're impossible, you know that? If anything happens to you—"

"Nothing's going to happen." You interrupted, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. "I'll be fine. You'll see."

He didn't look convinced, but he finally stepped back, letting you go. "Just... don't forget what I said." He said quietly, pulling you into a long hug.

"I won't." You said holding him tightly, offering him one last smile before heading back to Jaemin.

As you walked away, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Haechan might be right—and that your stubbornness might cost you more than you were willing to admit. ══════════════════════════

At first, Jaemin's house felt almost like a dream. The kind of dream that was too extravagant to be real. He gave you the best room, stocked it with things he said he'd noticed you liked—your favorite snacks, clothes that fit perfectly, and books you'd mentioned in passing. The fridge was always full, the view from the balcony was breathtaking, and Jaemin himself was, well, everything you thought he'd be: charming, attentive, even affectionate.

For a while, it was easy to forget Haechan's warnings, but as the weeks passed little things started to feel... off.

It began with Jaemin's schedule. He started coming home later and later, offering vague excuses about "business." When you asked for more details, he'd give you a pointed look and a dismissive, "Don't worry about it."

Then there were the boundaries—ones you didn't even realize he'd set until you accidentally crossed them.

One day, you'd decided to take a walk around the neighborhood, needing some fresh air. When you got back, Jaemin was waiting for you in the living room, his posture unnerving.

"Where were you?" He asked, his tone calm but cold.

"Just outside." You said, shrugging. "I needed some fresh air."

"Next time, tell me first." He said, his voice dangerously quiet.

You blinked. "I didn't think it was a big deal—"

"It is." He interrupted, his eyes locking on yours. "You don't leave this house without telling me. Understood?"

The weight of his stare made your stomach twist, but you nodded. "Ok."

After that, things escalated.

One evening, you had gotten a call from Haechan. He wanted to check in, to make sure you were okay. Jaemin walked in while you were still on the phone, and the look on his face made your blood run cold.

"Who was that?" He asked once you hung up.

"Haechan." You said honestly. "He just wanted to see how I was doing."

Jaemin didn't say anything at first, but the tension in the room was suffocating. Finally, he leaned against the counter, his gaze sharp.

"You don't need to talk to him anymore." He said flatly.

You frowned. "What? Why not? He's my friend."

"Not anymore." Jaemin said, his voice calm but firm. "You're with me now. You don't need him."

"Jaemin, you can't just—"

"I can." He cut you off. "And I am. If you're going to be here, you follow my rules. No Haechan."

You stared at him, your heart pounding. "This is ridiculous."

"Is it?" He asked, stepping closer. "Or are you just too stubborn to admit that I know what's best for you?"

The way he towered over you, his eyes dark, made your throat tighten. You wanted to argue, to push back, but something in his demeanor stopped you.

From then on, Jaemin's behavior grew more controlling. He wanted to know where you were at all times, who you were talking to, what you were doing. If you questioned him, his responses ranged from smooth and manipulative to outright threatening.

"You're lucky I'm patient with you." He'd say with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Most people wouldn't tolerate this kind of behavior."

Or, "I'm keeping you safe. You don't realize how dangerous things could get if you don't listen to me."

Every time you thought about leaving, Jaemin's words echoed in your mind. "Where would you go? Back to Haechan? Do you think he'd be able to protect you from me? From the people I know?"

He said it so casually, but the threat was clear.

One night, you sat alone in your room, staring out at the city lights. You felt like a bird in a gilded cage—trapped, isolated, and unsure of how you'd gotten here. Haechan's warnings played on a loop in your head, and for the first time, you started to wonder if he'd been right all along. ══════════════════════════

Jaemin was in an unusually good mood when he walked into the room that evening. His face lit up with a rare excitement.

"Get dressed." He said, his tone almost playful. "We're having a dinner tonight."

You looked up from the book you were pretending to read, your heart sinking. "A dinner? With who?"

"Someone important." He said, brushing off your question with a wave of his hand. "Wear something nice. I want you to look stunning."

That familiar unease settled in your chest. Jaemin's version of "important" usually meant trouble, but you didn't argue. Instead, you forced a smile and got up, heading to the closet to find something appropriate.

An hour later, you found yourself sitting in a private dining room of an upscale restaurant, your nerves on edge. Across from you sat a man Jaemin introduced as Jeno, a name that didn't mean anything to you, but clearly held weight with Jaemin.

Jeno was polished, with a sharp suit and a demeanor that put you on edge. He and Jaemin chatted easily, their conversation littered with inside jokes and references to "opportunities" and "potential".

"So." Jaemin said suddenly, turning to you with a wide smile. "I've been telling Jeno about you. He's impressed."

You blinked, caught off guard. "Impressed with what?"

"With your adaptability." Jaemin said smoothly, leaning back in his chair. "And your loyalty. Those are rare qualities."

Jeno nodded, his gaze piercing. "Jaemin speaks highly of you. That's not something he does often."

You offered a polite smile, but your palms were sweating. Something about the way they were both looking at you made you feel like a pawn in a game you didn't understand.

After dessert, Jaemin finally got to the point. "Jeno has a proposition for us." He said, his tone casual but his eyes glinting with something sharper. "An opportunity to make more money than we've ever dreamed of. Filthy rich."

Jeno chuckled, raising his glass in agreement.

"But it's not something we can do here," Jaemin continued, his gaze fixed on you. "We would have to move. Start fresh in a different country. Somewhere far from all of this."

Your stomach dropped. "Move? Where?"

"Europe, most likely." Jeno said, his voice smooth. "The details are still being finalized, but it's an opportunity you wouldn't want to miss."

You forced a laugh, trying to mask your growing unease. "This sounds... big."

"It is." Jaemin said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "It's everything we've been working toward. This could change our lives Y/n."

Your heart was pounding, but you nodded along, not trusting yourself to say anything else.

That night, back at the house you couldn't hold it in anymore.

"You can't be serious about this." You said as Jaemin poured himself a drink.

He glanced at you, his expression already stiffening. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because it's insane." You said, your voice rising. "Moving our lives, moving to a different country... It's too much."

"It's not too much." He said, his tone sharp. "It's a chance to have everything we've ever wanted."

"Everything you've ever wanted." You corrected, crossing your arms. "You didn't even ask me if I wanted this."

Jaemin slammed his glass down on the counter, making you jump. "What do you think this has all been for? The late nights, the risks, the sacrifices? Do you think I'm doing this just for me?"

"I don't know Jaemin." You said, your voice trembling. "Sometimes it feels like you don't care what I want."

He took a step closer, his gaze dark. "You don't know what you want. That's the problem. You're scared of taking risks, of stepping out of your comfort zone, but I'm not. I see the bigger picture, and I'm trying to bring you along with me."

"I'm not scared." You shot back, though your voice lacked conviction.

"Then prove it." He said, his voice softening slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. "Trust me. I've never steered you wrong before, have I?"

You hesitated, your mind racing.

Jaemin's hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that made your heart ache. "I'm doing this for us." He said, his voice low and persuasive. "I want to build a life with you. Don't you want that too?"

Your defenses faded under the weight of his words and the intensity of his gaze. You wanted to believe him, to trust that he had your best interests at heart.

"Ok." You said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do it."

A slow satisfied smile spread across his face. "That's my girl."

But as he pulled you into his arms, a pit of unease settled in your stomach. ══════════════════════════ The Europe deal was finalized. Jaemin had been talking about it all morning, logistics and plans, leaving no room for hesitation. His excitement was infectious, but you couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort in your chest.

As he left to finalize more details with Jeno, you stood in the lavish bedroom he had claimed as yours and stared at your phone. It was time. You had texted Haechan.

"Can you come over?"

It took a moment before the three dots appeared on the screen.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

You hesitated. Telling him the truth felt too dangerous, but you couldn't lie to him either.

"I'm fine. Just come. I'll send the address."

"I'm on my way. Don't ring the doorbell? Got it, but you're scaring me."

You smiled faintly, shaking your head. That was so like Haechan—always worrying about you, always trying to fix things.

The minutes ticked by slowly after you sent him the address. Your heart pounded in your chest, equal parts excitement and dread. You knew Jaemin would be dangerous if you didn't execute things right, but you couldn't bring yourself to care, it was time.

When you finally heard the soft knock on the balcony door, you exhaled sharply and hurried over to open it. Haechan stepped inside, his eyes immediately scanning your face.

"You scared me." He said, his voice low but firm. "Why did you call me here?"

You didn't answer right away. Instead, you grabbed his wrist and led him deeper into the room, shutting the door firmly behind you.

"Y/n, talk to me. You stopped talking to me before, so why now?" He urged, his brows furrowed.

Before you could answer, you both froze. The sound of heavy footsteps thundered down the hall, followed by the unmistakable voice of Jaemin.

"Y/n?" His tone was sharp, suspicious. You could hear the anger simmering beneath it. "What the hell is going on in there? Open the door."

Haechan's eyes widened, but you simply smiled, reaching up to lock the door.

"Y/n." Jaemin growled from the other side, rattling the handle. "Open this door right now."

"Sit down." You murmured to Haechan, your tone almost playful.

"What?!" He hissed, his panic barely contained.

"Sit down." You repeated, your hand on his chest as you pushed him gently back onto the bed.

"Y/n, I swear to God, if you don't open this door—" Jaemin's voice rose, his fist banging against the wood.

You ignored him entirely, your focus solely on Haechan. His eyes darted nervously to the door, but when your lips met his, all his resistance melted away.

"Are you seriously doing this right now?" He whispered against your lips, his voice a mix of disbelief and desire.

"I missed you." You murmured, climbing onto his lap, feeling the warmth radiate from his body.

The banging on the door grew louder, Jaemin's voice a scream now. "Y/n, I'm not playing games with you. Open this damn door!"

But you didn't care. For the first time in months, you felt free.

"Y/n, I don't think this is the time. We have to get out of here." Haechan muttered, a hint of concern lacing his words.

"Do you not miss me too?" You asked, your voice soft, yet teasing as you pushed him down onto his back, your body hovering over him.

"Of course I miss you." He responded, his breath hitching as he gazed into your eyes.

"Then shut up and kiss me." You replied, your heart racing as you leaned in, capturing his lips with yours once more.

When his lips met yours, it was as if the world outside ceased to exist. The frantic knocking and Jaemin's angry shouts faded into the background.

Haechan wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you as close as he could. You fumbled with the button of his jeans, unzipping them with trembling fingers as your lips remained locked together, lost in each other.

With a swift motion, you pulled down his pants and underwear, and he mirrored your actions, shedding your own clothes in a flurry of urgency and desire.

He sat up, holding you securely in his lap as you sank down onto him, both of you letting out a long awaited moan that lingered in the air.

"Fuck, I miss you so much." He whimpered, breaking the kiss to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours, eyes filled with a mix of passion and lust.

"I missed you too baby. I told you I'd be fine." You smiled, leaning into him again, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours.

As you began to move, the moans that escaped your lips grew louder, a deliberate tease for Jaemin outside, who was still banging on the door.

"I'm almost there." You moaned, breaking the kiss and resting your head in the crook of his neck, feeling the tension coil tightly in your stomach as you clenched around him.

"Me too." He whispered, his voice strained with pleasure. He held you tightly as you both rode out your highs together, lost in a world that was just the two of you.

In that moment, nothing else mattered—no angry knocks, no outside world—just the intoxicating connection between you and Haechan. ══════════════════════════

"Haechan, you have to go." You whispered, removing yourself from on top of him.

"Y/n, this is insane." He whispered fiercely, his eyes wide with fear and frustration. "We need to leave together. He's going to kill you!"

You stepped closer to him, your hands brushing his as you looked into his panicked eyes. "No Haechan. You need to leave. Go to the casino and wait for me there. I'll handle this."

"Handle this? Y/n, you're not listening! You can't face Jaemin alone!" His voice cracked as he spoke with despair.

You placed a hand on his cheek, trying to calm him. "I know you're scared. I am too, but I need you to trust me ok? I've got this."

His jaw clenched, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. "Let me be the one to face him. Please. If anyone's going to take the risk—"

"No." You cut him off firmly. "This is my fight Haechan. I need you to leave now. If you stay, you'll only make things worse."

He stared at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, he let out a shaky breath and nodded. "Fine, but if you're not at the casino in an hour I'm coming back for you. I mean it."

You gave him a small reassuring smile. "I'll be there."

Reluctantly he climbed over the balcony railing, glancing back at you one last time before disappearing.

You turned back to the door, unlocking it and stepping aside just as Jaemin stormed in, his eyes full of fury. He scanned the room quickly, his gaze snapping to you.

"Where is he?" He demanded, his voice low.

"He's gone." You said calmly, crossing your arms.

Jaemin's expression darkened, and in a swift motion, he pulled a gun from the back of his waistband, pointing it directly at you.

"Don't lie to me." He growled.

Your heart pounded, but you didn't flinch. Instead, you stepped forward, closing the gap between you and the barrel of the gun. "Shoot me then." You said, your voice steady.

Jaemin's hand trembled, the gun shaking slightly as he stared at you in disbelief. "You think I won't?"

"I think you won't." You said, your eyes locked on his. "Because you need me."

For a moment, he stood frozen, the weight of your words sinking in. Then with a frustrated growl he lowered the gun, tossing it onto a nearby chair.

"Why do you always have to make things so difficult?" He snapped, running a hand through his hair. "I'm trying to protect you—to take care of you. Don't you see that?"

You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. "Protect me? Jaemin the only person you care about protecting is yourself. All of this—Europe, the business—it's not about us. It's about you and your greed."

"You're wrong." He insisted, stepping closer. His voice softened, dripping with fake sincerity. "We could have everything together Y/n. Power, money, freedom. Just say yes and I'll give you the world."

But weren't falling for it. You stepped back, your expression cold. "No Jaemin. Here's what's going to happen. You're going to Europe, transfer all your assets to the casino and you're signing it over to Haechan."

His face twisted in anger. "Do you think I'm stupid? Do you really think I'd give everything up because you asked me to?"

He stepped closer, his tone turning darker. "If you think you can threaten me you're wrong. I'll kill you, and Haechan too."

You smirked, unbothered by his threats. "You won't touch either of usJaemin. Because if anything happens to me, there are people who will make sure you pay for it. Dirty cops, powerful people. They'll come for you—and only you."

His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?" You challenged. "Go ahead. Try me. You'll find out just how serious I am."

For the first time, Jaemin hesitated, the confidence in his demeanor fading. He stared at you, his mind clearly racing.

"You're lucky I'm keeping you alive." You said, your voice low and sharp. "Because you didn't have the decency to do the same."

His brows furrowed in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?"

You tilted your head, your smirk growing. "Do you seriously not remember my face?"

Jaemin's expression froze. For a moment, his mask slipped, and you saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes, but just as quickly he composed himself, his lips curling into a bitter smile.

"I don't know how I could forget." He said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Guess I didn't look that deep in your eyes."

You raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. "Well, you should've because now those eyes are the last thing you'll ever underestimate."

Jaemin's smirk fell, and for the first time, you felt the power shift entirely into your hands. ══════════════════════════

The casino buzzed with its usual energy, but all eyes turned to the center of the room when Jaemin strode in with you at his side. He walked with purpose, his expression a mix of authority and resignation. The usual crowd. Mark, Haechan, Jisung, Chenle, paused their work to watch as Jaemin climbed onto the small stage at the front of the room.

"I have an announcement to make." Jaemin began, his voice carrying across the space. "I am resigning and stepping away from the business. I'll be signing over the casino to Haechan, and after today you'll never see me again."

The room erupted in stunned murmurs. Jisung's jaw dropped, Chenle stared in disbelief, and Haechan blinked rapidly, trying to process what he just heard.

"You're signing it over to me?" Haechan asked.

Jaemin nodded. "Yes. I've decided that you're the best fit to take over."

Haechan shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't want it. Mark deserves it more than anyone. He's the one who's been running this place while the rest of us deal with... other things."

Mark's eyes widened. "Haechan...what?"

"You're the one who works the hardest." Haechan insisted. "This place wouldn't even function without you. You should take it."

Jaemin turned to you, his brows knitting together. "What do you think?"

You gave a small shrug, your expression calm. "That's fine with me."

Without further argument, Jaemin stepped down and signed the paperwork to transfer permanent ownership to Mark. The room was silent as he set down the pen and turned to face everyone.

"Guess that's it." Jaemin said, his voice tinged with something like relief. He looked at you, his smirk returning. "Can I at least get a kiss goodbye princess?"

You walked up to him, leaning in as if you were going to fulfill his request. Instead you whispered in his ear. "Fuck you." Before planting a quick kiss on his cheek. Stepping back, you waved with an exaggerated flourish.

"Goodbye Jaemin. Don't come back."

Jaemin chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You're a piece of work." With that he turned and left the casino, disappearing into the night for good.

Mark looked dazed, clutching the paperwork like he couldn't believe what just happened.

Haechan rushed to you, pulling you into a tight hug. "You're okay, I can't believe you pulled this off."

Chenle leaned against the counter, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, what did you do? Spill."

You gave him a sly smile. "That's a secret."

Jisung shrugged. "That's fine. We're just glad you're back."

The group laughed, but the mood shifted when you cleared your throat. "Actually... I'm going back home."

The laughter stopped, and everyone stared at you.

"What?" Haechan asked, his voice low.

"I need to get away from all this." You said softly. "It's been... a lot. I just need some time to figure things out."

The room was quiet for a moment before Mark nodded. "We get it. You've been through so much. You deserve to take care of yourself."

Everyone murmured their agreement, but Haechan looked crushed. "You're leaving again? Y/n come on. You dropped out of school anyway—why not stay? Stay with me."

You gave him a small smile, touching his arm. "I need to do this Haechan. Please understand."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine, but we're driving to your apartment to get your stuff. I'm not letting you leave without spending time with you first."

You grinned. "Deal, but... can I drive your car?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You want to drive my car?"

"Yeah." You said grinning.

He hesitated, then handed you the keys with a playful eye roll. "Fine, don't crash it."

The drive to your apartment was smooth, the atmosphere between you and Haechan lighter than it had been in days. Once inside, the two of you collapsed onto the couch, the worry finally melting away.

Haechan leaned back, looking at you curiously. "Wait... How did you know how to get to the casino by yourself? I mean yeah, we've driven there a lot, but you can't even remember how to get to my place half the time."

Your smile fell for a moment, and you shifted in your seat. "If I tell you the truth, don't get mad, ok?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, a teasing edge to his voice. "What did you do Y/n?" ══════════════════════════

The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. Haechan stared at you from the couch, his brows furrowed with curiosity and confusion.

You took a deep breath, suddenly feeling the weight of the secret you'd carried for so long. You sat next to him, avoiding his gaze as you started.

"When I was 18 I lived in another state with my parents." You began, your voice soft but steady. "They were... rich. Very rich, but it wasn't clean money. They were involved in something shady, but they never told me what it was. I didn't ask—I didn't want to know."

Haechan's expression softened as he listened, sensing the shift in your tone.

"One night, I was in my room when I heard gunshots. I froze, I didn't know what to do. I peeked out of my door, and... I saw them. My parents lying there on the floor... dead."

Haechan's eyes widened, and his hand instinctively reached for yours.

"There were three men." You continued. "They were cleaning up the mess, moving things around, making it look like it didn't happen there, and then I saw him. The one in charge, and I remember his face so clearly... Jaemin."

He leaned back stunned. "Jaemin?"

You nodded. "I'll never forget that face. The way he looked so calm, so... collected. He even sat at my large family photo, looked at us smiling together and didn't care. I didn't know what to do so I ran. I left the state, and I spent months trying to figure out who he was and what my parents were involved in. That's how I found out about the underground casino."

Haechan stayed silent, his jaw tightening as he processed your words.

"I found out where it was and applied to a college nearby. I needed to get close to Jaemin, but I couldn't just walk into his life. So, I went to the casino to check it out. At first, I thought I had the wrong place. It looked like an ordinary gas station."

You gave a small, bitter laugh. "I was ready to call the cops and let them handle it, but then... by pure chance. I saw someone leaving through the back behind the beaded curtains... I saw you."

Haechan stiffened, realization dawning on him. "Wait... me?"

You nodded again. "I recognized you later at school. We had classes together, and I knew if I wanted in, I had to get close to you. So, I told you this elaborate story about being broke and needing money for tuition. I even thought you'd get suspicious because of my nice apartment, but you didn't. You felt sorry for me, and you trusted me. That's when you introduced me to the casino— you were my way in."

He blinked, his expression a mix of hurt and disbelief. "So... you used me."

"It wasn't like that." You said quickly, placing a hand on his arm. "At first yes, it was about Jaemin. The plan was always to take him down, but then I got to know you. I started to care about you a lot."

Haechan's jaw tightened, but he didn't pull away. "What's going to happen to Jaemin?"

"When he gets to Europe, he's going to be arrested. I've been working with people—dirty cops, private investigators. I made sure that he'll be broke, with no way to come back here or rebuild. Everyone here will be fine. The business is safe, and so are you."

Haechan looked down, shaking his head. "You planned all of this... from the beginning?"

"Yes." You admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "I had to. He destroyed my family. But I promise you... I never meant to hurt you."

He was silent for a long moment before finally looking at you. "So what now? You're just... leaving?"

"I have to." You said softly. "This isn't my world. I've done what I needed to do. I need to go back home, to where I belong. But..." You hesitated, looking into his eyes. "If you want... you could come with me."

Haechan's eyes widened. "You're serious?"

"I'm serious." You said with a small smile. "Come with me, stay with me. We can leave all of this behind and start over."

He let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing as he processed your words. "Ok." He said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Let's go."

The two of you packed up your things, leaving behind the chaos of the casino and everything it represented. Weeks later, you found yourselves in your home state, in a house far removed from the shadows of your past.

Haechan stood on the balcony, looking out at the peaceful view. "You know." He said, glancing back at you, "I never thought I'd end up here— with you."

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist. "Me neither, but I'm glad we did."

He turned to you, his expression serious. "No more secret ok?"

"No more secrets." You promised.

And for the first time in a long time, you both felt free.

══════════════════════════

mafiadad5

569 notes · View notes

hollyhomburg · 3 months ago

Text

Before I Leave you (Pt.79)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: It's Hoseok's turn to breed you through your heat, but Namjoon won't let him have it easily.

Tags: Group sex, Sub! m/c, Dom! Namjoon, Sub! Hobi, d/s, threesome, comparing knots, Cumplay, size kink, big dick Namjoon, womb fucking, belly bulge, slight inflation kink, breeding kink, clit torture if you squint, overstimulation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, inspection kink, humiliation kink, implied cuckolding, very brief human furniture, puppy play, puppy space Hobi, collars, dominance displays, brief angst, filthy sex becomes lovey dovey, porn without plot.

W/c: 12.0k

A/n: ahhhhh here it is <3 the second part of last chapter that i split last minute <3 more filth but at least it's Hobi filth <3 keep your eyes wide open on the ending! this one is a bit of a cliffhanger <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Namjoon doesn’t stop fucking you for most of the second day. It’s kind of…eerie, the quiet that takes over while the pack alpha takes you apart.

Jin and Jungkook got fucked through the night while you slept but now that you’re awake and the others are asleep, Namjoon tends to you diligently. Possessive. It is in the nature of any alpha, under the effects of their instincts, to covet an omega.

That doesn't make it any easier for the other alpha's to sit aside and wait.

It would be easier if they could sleep. But the alpha’s can’t, kept awake by your hormones on the air, the sensitive heat hush that covers them thick and sweet. They almost circle you like prey.

Namjoon is not entirely heartless. He lets Jimin lick and lap at what you can’t keep in between your second and third knotting (if only because Namjoon can't knot you and devour you at the same time). Namjoon cums a lot when he knots, a hot flood that leaves you feeling warm and claimed. Cozy even. Sticky and wet and hot soaking your insides until you’re full.

Namjoon’s knot is so big and you are so tiny. None of them are surprised when your stomach starts to look a little bloated. A little pregnant already.

The whole pack can't help but salivate after it, your tummy bulge. hands roaming, appreciative and gentle.

What can't fit slides out after Namjoon knots. Big globs of it, spilling and squishing regardless of your panic. Your instincts tell you that you can't let any of it go to waste. But it's inevitable. You can hardly clench down anymore. It turns your your lap sticky and messy when he fucks you. Trails of cum sticking to your ass when Namjoon presses flush. So much cum, so much spend that it leaves you ruined.

Tae is unapologetically into it, petting over your stomach and cooing at your mess any chance that Namjoon lets her. Any time he lets her get near. A little territorial. Growling at her when she gets a little bit too much.

“Look pup, alpha’s already gotten you pregnant, so fucked up you’re already swollen. How about here?" She paws at your sensitive chest, and you are too weak to push at her. perilous against the lightning bolts of pleasure that zing through your being as she plays with you. Hobi still holds your hand and feels your heartbeat, bunny fast against his fingertips.

He’s doing good, waiting for Namjoon to give him the go-ahead. (Waiting for his master to give him his turn. Staying like a good puppy.)

“Should we try and see if you’re already making milk?”

You whine as Tae bites and sucks at your chest and Namjoon keeps fucking you. Until your nipples are pink and bitten and swollen from the attention. Nipples harder, whole chest looking bigger than usual.

It must just be the heat, surely.

Tae likes to suck. It soothes both of you while the pack alpha knots you, his knotting long and drawn out. Your hormones are thick and heady on the air. Hobi's pretty sure they're all close to knotting, will knot the air if Namjoon doesn't let them have a turn soon.

But Namjoon is greedy with you in heat. Let's the others stew and wait their turn. Neither Jimin nor Tae touch so Hobi doesn't touch either even though he's straining at the fabric of his boxers.

No sooner has his knot gone down than is he fucking you again. Cock never flagging, even if Namjoon is ever so slightly starting to look tired. You stay like that, a willing doll.

You like being the pack's little omega doll, their nest warmer, their breeding bitch (not that Namjoon would ever call you that, and any alpha that did would get the punishment of the lifetime) But you take all of it, all of his cum. Let him put you through your paces no matter how full you get.

Your entrance is pink and wrecked when he does bother to take it out and show the rest of the pack how he’s bred you. Putting his fingers in and showing them how pink you are on the inside. The way his cum gushes out, especially when someone bothers to pay attention to your clit or ghost their fingers lower over your other hole.

You let them touch you, let them explore. Cuddled up on Hobi's chest. His arms around your back, protecting you a little, soothing your little whines as you teethe on his scent gland as gently as you can. You seem to like doing that. Fixating on Hobi's scent when the others are being particularly mean. Like you need something to settle you. His cock pressed between your stomach and his, close just like you need.

Without Yoongi awake, Hoseok is the next best thing. You wish you could speak; wish you could tell him that. Hoseok is not small but compared to Namjoon… it couldn't hurt anymore right?

You wish you could talk, wish could tell Namjoon that you could probably fit both at once! You're a good pup! And you like Hobi…and Taetae and Minnie and Joonie. It's hard so hard to choose.

It's a good thing you're not in control right now or else you might try and do something stupid like take all of them at once. You have three holes and 4 alphas; the math doesn't really work. You have approximately 3 fully functional brain cells right now. (For all you know, two plus two might as well equal Noodle.)

Your belly bulge is especially noticeable when they shift you onto your hands and knees, Sloshy. Dripping out loud and messy whenever Namjoon pulls out. You can’t keep it all in no matter how hard you try and clench but...namjoon's broken you a little. You tremble, clenching wildly, your body overstimulated and twitchy from so many orgasms.

"Ah poor little pup, did alpha give you too much? Are you too full pup?" But you always shake your head, whining for more.

Thank god for contraceptives. You’d actually get pregnant, no way around it. If Namjoon ever fucked you without one during a heat. Whenever you do decide to have pups it will probably only take one try, Namjoon will probably pup you just because of his length alone, will beat out all the others.

The heat fever gives you amazing daydreams; especially when it spikes particularly high and your brain goes hazy. You imagine it; you on a breeding bench, heat warm and needy just like now. Tied up with pretty little ribbons to keep you still and settled. Yoongi, and Jinnie and Jungkook talking you through it. Each of the alpha is lining up behind you to breed you.

Maybe they'd play rock paper scissors to see who got to go first. To see who got the best odds. They might not even knot you to make it fair. You imagine wearing a plug after to keep all of it safe and snug inside. You imagine the others treating you gingerly and Jinnie petting over your stomach telling you you did a good job, yoongi ducking low to sniff at your stomach and check if you're pupped already. jungkook whining that he wants to be next.

You imagine them cradling you for the next few hours, so gentle and delicate with you, just like they are now (none of what Namjoon does to you is mean or hurts, it feels so good you feel like you're going a bit insane is all, a bit fucked dumb) just to make sure it takes.

Getting pupped outside of a heat is pretty unlikely. You might make them roleplay that with you in the future. Just because you like the idea of it so much. Your brain goes dizzy, and suddenly in your fantasy, it's Jinnie tied up and not you. He'd look so pretty pupped. you'd make him the best best nest.

Namjoon keeps fucking you, nosing at your throat where your purr comes from, loud and rippling. The picture of a satisfied omega, stuck on a half popped knot, heavy with cum and purring.

"Having sweet dreams pup?" He teases. His shoulders feel puffed up, his ego substantially stroked.

Namjoon is a little torturous with the way he keeps the alphas a bay, the way he bends and puts you through your paces. Your heat does not strain Namjoon in the slightest.

He tugs out of you, sitting on his heels. His cock is pink-tipped and wet, hard and big. You are close to sleep, Namjoon can smell it on the edge of your scent. He's just about to turn, just about to ask hoseok if he wants to fuck you to bed when you whine and dig your heals into his hips, urging him back in.

But thats all your capable off. You're so tired. Exhaustion makes you feel like you're going to pass out. But you still want a knot, still need it.

He pulls you up, your body is so limp, so limp, but you do drag yourself onto your knees, hands demurely supporting you between your legs, a universal 'good pup' posture that Hobi finds himself mirroring, watching and waiting. You put your hand to your stomach and hiss at the full feeling. Between your legs, you drip.

A look to the side says and Tae and Jimin are similarly posed. The three of them waiting and at attention. Waiting for the pack alpha to give the others permission. Waiting to see which one he'll select to fuck you next.

But not yet, the pack alpha isn't done with you yet.

He stops for a moment, feeling your forehead, cupping your cheek gently. humming low. You still burn with fever, too high, too much, body not quite there yet. This patch of your heat will probably be the worst, probably be the hottest you'll get. Namjoon can't imagine you getting much warmer to the touch.

If you do. He doesn't want to think of taking you out of this room let alone out of the den. But he will if he has to. They have fever stabilizers and banana bags for hydration at the hospital. You probably need both.

You squirm, and Namjoon's instincts flare.

"Maybe I really have spoiled you too much pup, If you don't want to sleep yet and say you've got enough energy for another knot-" Namjoon taps his thigh. “Why don’t you take your seat little omega, show alpha how much you want it."

You start to whine, to protest as he pulls you up. You are terribly sleepy, and really! too small to take him on your own! But Namjoon's glower is threatening enough that you don't really try to fight it. Your pout cute and your whines go unheard.

You teeter over to him, and he turns you, making you face the rest of the alpha's. He sits back and you hold yourself up on shaky knees, his thighs parted so that you can get close enough that your back is pressed to his chest. Hot and big and powerful behind you.

He's hardly even helping you guide yourself. You hesitate, reaching back blindly for his length. Your hand can't even wrap around it all the way. You teeter, trying to figure out how you want to sit. Holding yourself up just barely, how should you-

Namjoon nudges his cock forward, just barely pressing against your hole, parting you ever so slightly. You gasp, chest heaving. It's just as big and thick as ever. The three other alphas watch you with beady eyes, Jimin jerks in your direction but holds himself back just barely.

Namjoon wiggles his hips, his hand splaying on your hip, gripping the soft swell of your body there. Making you feel his girth, his thickness. His breath is hot on the back of your neck. “Sit on my knot like a good girl now, you liked it so much when Alpha was doing all the work. Come here. Show me how much you like it."

You shuffle, gingerly sitting back and He presses forward. you don't fuck like this like ever. Never are you really in control. Never are you on top, not even with yoongi. you don't know how to set the pace.

When you sit back namjoon's cock doesn't go in like you intend, it slips out and up. Sliding up past your open entrance and up through your messy pussy to nudge your clit and rub. Coating his cock in a mix of slick and cum while he tuts.

You hiccup and settle your hands on his shoulders, trying again and using them to guide you. You find the right position and actually do sit down. Lowering your body onto his cock until your ass hits his thighs.

You shake through the last inch, knees to your chest, and you can't even breathe. Namjoon's so big, it takes your breath away.

Being sat on Namjoon’s cock like this makes your whole body tremble. Full body shudders. He’s so deep like this, so deep that after a few shaky tries, a few moments of trying to grind. You fall, setting your full weight on it, pushing him ever deeper.

You pause, hesitating, crying, breathing.

Namjoon lands a swat over your behind and you jump, whole body shaking. "Move omega,"

"I can't, I can't alpha!" you sob, hands on the nest infront of you, unsure if you're about to start sobbing or squirting or both.

"Poor little dumb puppy, can't even fuck right, I'll show you." Namjoon holds you under your thighs and lifts you up a little, the whole room spins.

"you go up" the nest disappears from underneath you. "and then you go down."

A broken moan shatters from your throat as he lowers you onto his cock. Pleasure hits you like a punch to your gut. A physical blow or an anchor that pulls you under. Makes you sob. It's so much.

But it can't be too much, Namjoon would never give you more than you could handle. Your hole is sensitive but you're not in pain, just desperate to soothe the ache inside of you, an ache that only Namjoon can fix. If alpha's not stopping, then you're alright. You're fine. you repeat that to yourself like a mantra and you find it's mostly true.

Namjoon picks you up and puts you down on his cock a few more times. Then he looks to the others. he summons jimin with a jerk of his chin and the other alpha all but rushes over.

"Jiminie will help you, since you're too far gone to fuck Alpha like you want to. It's my fault, I should have made you learn before I fucked you dumb."

Tae and Hobi almost look scolded at not being chosen. Tae lets out a whine, but a soft growl from Namjoon has her falling quiet. They fight for the opportunity to do this; to help the pack alpha fuck the omega they all want. All of this- every second reinforces the fact that they all know, they all feel in their chests and instincts.

Namjoon's on top. Namjoon's the alpha, the one they all have to listen to. They won't get anything, not a drop of your slick or an inch of relief inside of you- not if he doesn't say so. Not if he doesn't allow it.

You knew Jimin was strong, he carried Jungkook earlier so you shouldn't be so surprised. But you hiccup and try and protest as he picks you up so easily under your thighs, forcing you up and down on Namjoon’s knot like you weigh nothing.

Jerking you close to his chest to get a better grip, altering the angle. You claw and paw at Jimin's shoulders, the back of his neck, his collar jingling against your cheek. Clanging against yours.

Namjoon pauses for a second, there is a latch on the front of jimin's collar and a loop on the front of yours. Namjoon's deft fingers lock you together, keeping you anchored to Jimin.

You are face to face with him as he does it, you feel jimin's deep growl against your front, watching his pupiles dilate. His hands fist in your thighs, holding you hard, holding you steady. You have a feeling you'll have bruises in the shape of his hands on you after this.

He picks you up, bringing you off of Namjoon's cock, just far enough that his heat hovers just inside.

And then places you back down. Sheathing him inside you in one smooth movement. Letting your body's weight push you down on him. You hiccup and Namjoon feels it from the inside.

It goes like that for what could be minutes or hours, days or seconds. He picks you up and puts you down, fucking you up and down like you're little more than a fleshlight for your alpha.

Maybe it would feel that way if it wasn't for how he kisses at your brow and laps away your tears, mumbling out "Good omega love you so much, love this, so pretty and good for us, so perfect. Our perfect knot slut." Your belly bulge pressed to his stomach, his cock nudging Namjoon’s where it’s inside of you. Not pressing in, but Jimin feels it, the bulge in your stomach pressing against his cock. It's so filthy. The way your eyes roll back.

You don't notice, but Jimin cums against it, from the friction or from everything else. Marking your tummy. Too eager too turned on to stop himself.

"Good pup" you're not quite sure who namjoon's talking too- but it makes you feel warm regardless.

Namjoon guides you to wrap your arms around Jimin's neck, and you rest your head on Jimin’s shoulder. You close your eyes and let the world disappear around you. Narrowing down to the sensations in your body.

The feeling of strong arms holding you. Namjoon's teeth scruffing you dumb. Pleasure bursting like fireworks behind your eyelids. toes curling and head lolling. The hot pain pleasure of his cock splitting you open. The husky words Jimin whispers against your ear.

“That’s it pup just take it, that’s it, I've got you- we’ve got you.”

~-~

When you come too next, you are being absolutely smothered. First by the bodies around you and then by the affection.

Yoongi is running a brush through your hair, detangling it so gently that you hardly feel the tugging, the body in Infront of you is warm and feverish, and the body behind you is strong and muscled.

You pick your head up from Jin’s chest and behind you Jungkook groans. Arms around your waist going tighter. Reluctant to be parted from you.

You want to tell him that there's no one taking you from him, that you are so tired that picking up your head takes a tremendous herculean effort. But you're too tired to speak let alone soothe him. You can taste the fever on the back of your throat and you know you're not out of the woods yet.

Jin was? Feeding you? Licking your face? Grooming you? It's hard to tell just what kind of care he was giving you only that your chest feels open, less tight, less frantic. You feel sore but sated, damp faintly all over. Although you can tell by the way your thighs feel when they move against each other that it's soap, or something sudsy and not slick and cum anymore.

“Ready to join the land of the living pup?” Yoongi teases, fingers running over the nobs of your spine possessively, it’s a bit abnormal for Yoongi. It must be your heat slick making him act like that.

There is also a faint fullness, a plug snug in your hole, keeping what's left in your tummy from spilling out. It's a big plug, you can feel it as you squirm. When your heat fever spikes, you clench down on it and the thickness settles you. It makes you feel stretched out and relaxed, and simulates a knot that never goes down. thats so thoughtful, your pack are so thoughtful cleaning you up but keeping you full.

You lick your lips and rub your nose against Jin's neck. Pressing closer. There is a hand on your chin, making you look up, prying you away from the safe hollow of his throat. Yoongi's eyes are melted chocolate. You rest your cheek against Jin's bare chest and look up at him.

"You kept whining for it."

"I did?" Yoongi kisses your brow.

"Yup. Practically milked Joonie dry, looked like a shriveled old rasin. He needs a good hour but then his dick will stop being broken. You need to eat next, before you take any more." Yoongi's no-nonsense tone is one you're intimately familiar with.

"Okay." You say, feeling small. Voice quiet. Yoongi tugs the brush through your ends.

Speaking of Namjoon Where are the alphas? You don't feel them next to you, it's not them cuddling you- just your omegas and Yoongi.

Distantly you realize you can hear the alpha's- they're still in the nest, they're just not paying attention to you. You rub your face, your lips against Jin's shoulders. A whine building.

“Tae, no fair! You’re pushing out your hips!”

“I don’t think It works that way Minnie. I've been longer than you for like 10 years-”

You peak over jin's shoulder, tentative, and yoongi sighs. Hormones no longer cloud the air. You must all be between spikes at the same time. You duck back down behind the covers quick. You don't like that your alpha's are arguing, not quite sure what it means.

Both Jin and Yoongi look from them to you.

“Oh my little puppy.”

You sniffle, overwhelmed as Jin bundles you close to his chest. Behind you, Yoongi hums, as close to a purr as his beta body is capable of mating. Jungkook continues to nuzzle into your back completely asleep.

Omega cuddles are exactly what you need. They're so warm. So soft around you. You missed your omegas. You might have been barely a few feet apart from each other. And you’re pretty sure you demanded to hold hands with Yoongi the last time Namjoon knotted you. But you missed them.

You’re not quite sure why you’re crying only that it’s mostly a happy cry as you nuzzle and push your face into his throat. Hiccupping until you calm down. Heats are- intense, but Jin doesn't seem like he's having as much difficulty as you are.

He's older. He's more experienced. Jin just shushes you. But you can tell he knows it's a good sort of crying, the kind that gets any lingering yuckyness out.

Jin shushes you tucking you under his chin and urging you to press your nose to his scent gland. You rub your lips and nose there over and over again. side to side. Up and down thoroughly covering his skin with your scent. Once your hiccuping, has subsided, and your face has been whipped free from tears. You turn and look.

Your alphas are- maybe they’re wrestling? Their hair certainly looks all messed up, if Tae's hair looks so much like a bird's nest you don’t want to imagine what yours looks like- or looked like- until Jin commanded Yoongi to give you a good ol' omega brushing.

“Was I good? Am I being good?” You ask, Jin pecks your nose, you can tell the heat still isn’t over, a haze on the edge of your vision. Making your words slow and small.

“The best” Jin nuzzles. “Your cute little cunt squirted every single time Joonie knotted you- made the others feel a bit competitive- Jiminie tried to fuck you to get you to do it and only got it half the time. They’re comparing knots now.” Jin says it with a vague tone of annoyance. Crinkling his nose at it.

Yoongi huffs behind you, putting the brush down. “They do this every heat. I don’t know why they expect it to change.”

Your alphas kneel in a circle, each of them standing hard and proud, the knots at the base of their cock’s explored with a giggle. Big hands wandering, knuckles rubbing, grabbing. Hobi sags against Namjoon’s shoulder as the alpha explores him, checking his knot with hungry hands. Did Hobi fuck you? You can't remember. You shift, feeling slick gathering between your thighs as you look.

You think you'd remember it.

You bury your face in Jin's chest again to try and calm your racing heart. But he just hums. "Oh? Getting worked up puppy?" You pick your head up and nod, propping your chin on Jin's shoulder, and go back to watching.

Behind you Jungkook shifts in his sleep his soft omegan cock squishes against your backside, strangely soft. It's comforting to cuddle with them nude like this. To do it without any worry or nagging sense of inadequacy or insecurity. They like where you're soft, it makes you a good cuddler, a good nestmate.

Yoongi does not watch the alphas, Yoongi continues to pet over the top of your head, watching just you.

“Hyung- hyung don’t-"

Namjoon laughs, and Hobi's cock slaps against his stomach. The head of Tae's cock presses against Jimin's in a weird almost kiss, her dress brought up draping Roman-like over her length.

“Let me touch it-“

“If I let you will you promise not to pinch?”

“But you just feel so squishy.”

The head of Hobi's cock bumps against Namjoon’s all pink and velvety. Namjoon’s cock looks impossibly large in Tae's hands. What you can see through their bodies makes your stomach swoop and your scent spike.

Jin noses into your neck, scenting you back until you're trembling and above you, Yoongi watches on hungrily, Jin's teeth nip at the shell of your ear, and your whole-body jumps.

“Should we compare tummies and make them pay attention to us?” Jin offers.

Your answering chirp in approval has 4 heads jerking in your direction.

~-~

Hoseok gets his chance with you when he least expects it.

All of this is routine, the fucking, the food, the love. But challenging Namjoon is not something Hoseok usually does. Not unless he wants to be drawn over the pack alpha's lap for a forceful settling.

Hoseok's settling looks a little different today.

Jimin and Tae finally have something else to fixate on when Jungkook wakes and demands a knot for his hole and another one for his mouth (as cutely as you can picture it). Yoongi of course has a different need of yours that he aims to fix, feeding you sleepy bites while you’re knotted to Namjoon, happy and full in every way with a warm alpha back inside of you. Sitting on Namjoon’s knot easily now that you’re used to it. the plug had done its job of keeping you open and full.

He keeps you stuck there until it goes down, scented dumb and satisfied for now. It’s the perfect time to convince you to eat. You can't fuss too much down in omegaspace, eager as always, to be good for your pack alpha.

"Good pups eat their food, or else alpha can't pup them right, have to stay healthy for alpha." You nod, mouth going slack, opening obediently. It's stunning that thats all it takes.

Namjoon asks and you open, Namjoon asks you to sip and you do, Namjoon tells you to breathe, and you gasp.

Hoseok sits beside you, holding the tray of food for Yoongi, he keeps it straight, keeps it from tipping. An unusual amount of effort goes into doing that small task. Hoseok treats it like he's holding a nuclear bomb. Eyes going from every bite of food as it travels from the tray to your mouth.

Hoseok doesn't mind, it's a good task, good to have something to focus on.

The subspace haze makes Hobi just as good of a pup as you are. Namjoon even lets Hobi feed you too! Your tongue slides against his fingers, licking up sweet strawberry juice. Lapping at them lewdly.

"Good puppies. kiss hobi in thank you pup."

Your kiss is soft and sweet, a little open mouthed, a little pupish. Hobi resists the animal part of him that wants to lick into your mouth for strawberry sweetness and puppy kisses. He laps once, twice, and there is a hand in his hair pulling him back with a tisking noise. Yoongi, looking down at him with a dark indecipherable look in his eyes.

Then he looks at Namjoon, a passing glance and subtext that Hoseok misses, too busy biting back a whine and Yoongi's grip goes slack in his hair. The moment passes without comment or verbal command.

Yoongi's delicate hands scratch behind Hobi's ears and he makes a soft happy sound in the back of his throat. Soft little chuffs.

You stare at them, each of them, wide bunny eyes blinking slowly. eyes glassy. Not saying anything. Shaking your head when they ask questions or nodding cutely. A bit non-verbal.

It's a bit harder to hide when you're verbal. When you decide you do want to babble.

Hoseok is glad for the tray, his cock hasn’t gone soft, not at all, after basically being edged all morning. it's harder to ignore when you go mouthy.

It’s cute, even you chew and accept sweet bites from your fingers, your eyes remain fixed on Namjoon. Babbling around the sweet nibbles. “Love Alpha so much, knot so big and puffy! Love his knot wanna kiss it, wanna eat it-”

Yoongi shoves a piece of bread at your lips to make you stop babbling out your filth. You chew, eyes fixed on him with wide eyes. “Joonie needs to last for the rest of your heat- you can't eat him yet. preferably never but-”

"But- but-" tears dance treacherously on your waterline, threatening to spill.

Namjoon pipes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and resting a protective and possessive hand on your stomach. Nibbling at your throat, your neck. "I'll eat you first." You giggle and push at him, but it's halfhearted.

Hoseok's eyes remain fixated on you. Hands tight on the tray. Canine hooked over his lower lip. Hobi holds the tray so steady that it doesn't even bob and dip with his breathing.

Once Namjoon’s knot has gone down again, he hisses. The skin around the base of it is going sensitive but you're still needy. You wiggle your hips and whine but Namjoon sets you back into the nest on your side. So careful with you that it makes Hoseok ache.

Your sensitive tummy is protected between your body and the nest. Namjoon lies you out so gently, careful with you. You have bruises everywhere; on your chest, your neck, your thighs. Hand shapes and hickeys. Even a heart shaped one because tae decided you deserved one.

Maybe they haven't been as gentle with you as they think.

If you're strained at all you don't show it, sighing into the nest, gripping handfuls of it in your fists, clinging to it. Kneading the fluff of it a little before your body goes boneless.

Yoongi ducks in close and kisses Namjoon, you, then Hobi, before he takes the tray he shuffles to the other side of the nest the tray of food in hand, intent on also convincing Jin and Jungkook to at least take a nibble.

You whine. High and petulant. Nuzzling into the nest, trying to sate this feeling in your chest.

A warm palm flutters down your spine, comforting. “Ah, my cute needy little pup, what are we to do with you huh? Still insatiable after all of that? You still need more?”

Yes, yes you do. The fire is still burning through you, you’re still in heat. Namjoon is a good alpha (Even if honestly- he’s getting a little tired)

Hobi takes his usual position, holding your hands while Namjoon has you. Sliding between your legs. You're belly down, not even holding yourself up. But you deserve to have it like this, no work, just Namjoon's weight behind you and his knot in your hole.

Hoseok feels a nagging worry in the back of his mind. it's barely been what- two seconds? Since he pulled out. You can't be having another heatspike so soon.

You're about 18 hours in already. Probably nearing the middle of your heat and the worst of it. But then again- maybe you have your worst spikes near the end like Jungkookie. Maybe you're just warming up- making up for lost time.

Hobi holds your hands through it, through this breeding session too. just like he did with Yoongi and Namjoon's first few bouts.

Hobi keeps you from scrabbling, trying to claw yourself away from too much pleasure. It still gets to you- the panic. It's always immediate. Whenever you feel Namjoon prod. Some hidden animal part of you that wants to resist, that like him, needs to be settled.

Hobi holds your hands, looking down, transfixed by the way your body moves. Hoseok is very very good at holding things, isn't he? He's being a good puppy. The best puppy.

You squirm, and Namjoon's instincts flare.

Namjoon leans down, pressing a kiss to your nape, meanly pressing in further, harder. You are so hot inside, the heat fever tearing through you now that you have a little food in your stomach and more energy to burn. Warm and wet and tight. Your eyes roll back and Hobi can do nothing but watch.

But Namjoon's pace stutters.

It's understandable. This is the 5th knot he’s given you in as many hours. It's sometime after mid-day and it's been probably around 30 hours since he's slept. Namjoon's only human. He can't last forever. Hoseok's honestly a little surprised that Namjoon hasn't tapped out yet, that his knot isn't ready to fall off.

But Hoseok watches his pace falter and his lip lifts. It's an instinct to growl. Namjoon spies it, hackles raising.

Alpha instincts are a peculiar thing.

“You think you could do better?” Namjoon taunts, a little playfully. Arms bulging as he holds himself up, trusting harder into you. Almost in retaliation. Hobi blushes, looks away, successfully chastised.

Hoseok shouldn't be intimidated, Namjoon might be the pack alpha, but Hobi has still seen him put his shoes on the wrong feet before and leave the house- too many times to count.

The growl comes out of his mouth before he thinks better about it. Loud. Across the nest. Jin lifts his head, woken up by it, hair all fluffy. Yoongi combs over it to settle him.

Namjoon stops moving.

Hobi clamps a hand over his mouth in surprise and the snarl becomes a whine. “Yes! No! Maybe- I think I-.” Hobi hovers unsure, bashful at being caught snarling at the pack alpha.

Namjoon is not one to let this kind of thing slide especially not during a heat.

Namjoon slides out of you, long and hard and hot, you whimper. You don't like feeling empty. You try to push back on him but are stopped by a hand pressed blank your pussy, Namjoon's fingers brushing your hole, fucked open and messy. Gaping just a little, dripping a bit of cum onto the nest until you tighten up.

You whine. Loud and grating. Hoseok's instincts make him want to gnash his teeth. It sets him on edge. Across the nest, Yoongi turns, distracted from his task of trying to convince Jungkook to suck on a straw instead of trying to suck on his dick, Alarmed at the sound of your whine. The desperation in it.

“Alright alright, calm down,” Namjoon says, kind of laughing through it, kind of high. Namjoon is the picture of restraint, he's not a knothead, not like Hobi. He doesn't snarl and push and fight at another alpha challenging him. No- Namjoon looks at Hobi, a mean glint in his eye.

Namjoon can get a little scary when he's got something to prove, even scarier when he's got a job to do.

Your collar is there by the edge of the nest, taken out when Jimin put on his, black with a golden puppy tag, the twin to Hobi's red one. Your pink one is showing its wear; worn at the hole in the buckle, the one that fits you nice and loose. Perfect as a handhold.

Namjoon points and Hobi gets it before he's even registered that he's following a nonverbal order. Flushing as he takes off the bell and then tries to hand it over.

But Namjoon just eyes your throat expectantly.

Making one sub-collar another is- well-

Hobi's hands stutter, shaky with anticipation as he tries to fit it around your throat. It takes him several tries to get it latched properly. Namjoon’s cock twitches as Hobi looks up for his approval. You push into his hands, purring loudly. No longer displeased at not being filled if you can teeth at the scent gland on his wrist.

Namjoon pulls back and away from you. Heavy cock throbbing, pulsing dully- but in all reality- edging himself will only help everyone in the long run. You’re already so wet on the inside, full of Yoongi and Jimin's and Tae’s cum not just Namjoon's.

But not Hobi's, not yet. Namjoon should fix that.

Namjoon reaches for Hobi's collar and puts it on him, testing the give, pulling him this way and that until he’s satisfied with it. Hoseok whines at being pushed around, tugged almost until he falls over, but he lets Namjoon do it. Obedient.

Namjoon pulls him over to where he sits, behind you, almost between your legs.

There is a bit of whiteness, leftover cum, covers Namjoon’s cock, milky at the tip. You drip slick a little, your pussy lips red and a bit inflamed from the ceaseless friction of his balls flopping forward and hitting where you’re sensitive. Namjoon palms blatantly between your legs checking with a dimply smile to make sure Hobi's watching. you mewl. But Namjoon just grins at Hobi. His fingers still hooked in his collar.

You mewl loudly and Namjoon puts his fingers back where you want them. "Oh don't be a brat, alpha's right here pup."

Hoseok's cock twitches at being manhandled, especially when Namjoon slides that hand down Hobi's midline, feeling him up and Hoseok lets him. Hoseok would let Namjoon do anything. He doesn't even flinch or growl when Namjoon pushes his thigh apart and pushes down his boxers. Palming his knot, examining him. Wrapping his big hands around it and testing where his knot will form. Rubbing at the sensitive skin with talented fingers.

It gives Hobi no small amount of pride that his hand does not cover all of Hobi's cock. He's still sizable. still long even if he's not nearly as thick as the others. Hoseok's scent fluffs out a little stronger at that.

Namjoon has one hand in you, hooked into your hole to soothe you, and the other wrapped around Hobi's cock as he says it.

“Show me then, show the pack alpha that you know to breed.”

Hoseok tries to pull back pull away, saying “But one of the others might want- I don’t need-” as if Hobi hasn’t been hard and trembling since the early hours of the morning, as if he hasn’t been edged by the ceaseless lewdness of you.

Namjoon does not take Hoseok’s excuses, tugging him by his collar “Oh, do you not remember puppy? Don’t worry, alpha can show you how to knot.”

Hoseok knows better than to protest, lets Namjoon lead him to you, lets him tug until Hobi is in between your legs. Namjoon close behind him. Guided by the pack alpha. Namjoon takes his hands in his and places them on your hips, the round fat of your behind. Hands smoothing up and down your sides.

Tentative and shy. Namjoon doesn’t allow him to pull his punches, holding his hips first, then your cheeks apart. You nuzzle forward into the sheets, completely lost to the world. But you start to push back into their hands. Peering up at Hobi shyly.

“Oh? You want to watch me show puppy how to knot you?” You turn your cheek, resting it against the nest so that you can peer back at both of them.

Hobi’s so pretty. Pretty alpha, want to see your pretty alpha with his pretty little knot, wanna kiss it cuz it's pretty and he's pretty and you love Hobi-

Beside you, Jin looks over and grins. There you go, talking out loud when you think you're not again. Hoseok's face is as red as the aburn in his hair.

Namjoon’s dark chuckle makes Hoseok’s cock twitch. Jumping. dripping just a little. “Puppy only knows how to breed like doggies do l sweet thing, don’t you want to show him how well you can present? Go on, show alpha.”

Hobi wants to say that he knows that he knows how to fuck, he does, he's fucked you before and you've liked it, he swears he knows how. But maybe breeding and fucking are two different things? Surely Alpha knows. Namjoon's hands are hot and greedy, touching Hobi's hips, his chest, and the narrow plane of his hips. Hoseok has always been a slender alpha and behind him Namjoon feels impossibly big and strong.

Steadying.

The thrall of sweet submission bleeds down Hobi’s back at odds with the humiliation. The tingle of not being the one in charge right now, the one not being in control is so alluring that it’s hard to resist temptation.

Hoseok has not slept either, Hoseok has stayed up with Namjoon and you through it. Just incase. Just incase anyone needed him.

Hobi doesn’t want to resist. At the pack alpha's laughter, he shuffles forward, blushing hard, cheeks red. "I can do it, I know-" how to knot. Gets caught in his throat.

Namjoon pecks the nape of his neck. "I'm sure you do pup, but alpha can show you anyway."

Descending down into subspace with you while you’re in heat might be exactly what he needs to overcome all of this- the lingering tension and fear. The impossible ache of things that Hobi cannot fix alone. But there are others here to reassure him. Across the nest, Jin lies on his side. Watchful and careful.

You arch, twisting half onto your back and thinks he might come undone just at the sight of the mess on your stomach. You blink lazily up at him, utterly boneless- utterly at the mercy of the pack alpha’s touch.

Hobi watches as Namjoon holds your ruined hole open with two of his thumbs. Namjoon’s voice is on the shell of his ear, hot breath tickling his skin. “See how she’s open already, don’t you want to feel how warm and hot she is inside?”

Namjoon shuffles forward until his cock is poking at Hobi's behind, flush between his back and Namjoon’s front. A reminder against his spine. Namjoon’s hands go south, and all Hobi has to do is let Namjoon push, let the pack alpha guide his cock inside you below them, a more than willing omega.

“Oh!”

You let out a little shocked sound, cute, halfway between a word and a chirp as Hobi pushes in, through Namjoon’s spend, through the heat of your body, fucked open not quite loose but-

You are not as tight as you could be especially immediately after taking Namjoon’s cock and knot- at least double in with to Hobi’s (Hobi doesn’t feel that insecure about it. Namjoon could make a porn star feel inadequate) and he’d never guess that you found him unsatisfying from the way you gasp, scent going syrupy pleasure sweet. It's so good it makes Hobi's hands shake.

But there is a deeper warmth and wetness. Hoseok is the last alpha to breed you, going after even Yoongi, and the others. The others have filled you up so well. Hoseok can feel it. You're soaked from the inside out. The mess that spills is only half of it.

Hobi doesn’t think about his submission in concrete terms. At least not the way that you and Jungkook do.

But he’s the last to knot you, you’re sloppy and wet and warm around him. He has their cum frothy and foamy on his dick right now, making the slide of his cock so slippery he pops out on occasion- only to be guided back in by Namjoon’s hands. It makes humiliation light- hot and delicious- a phantom heat- down his spine.

Namjoon holds Hobi's hips and guides him into a sloppy grind, mouth running wild, face drawn in a half snarl. “Gonna give her all of it aren’t you alpha? Gonna knot her little hole and breed her with all of us, alpha knows you can, can you be good and pop a knot for me? Can you be a good puppy for the pack alpha?”

Namjoon digs his teeth into the nape of Hobi's neck, and the hot clench of your cunt, looking up at them, almost makes Hobi lose his shit.

But then you reach for his hand, tangling your hand with Hobi's. Blinking away tears in your eyes, cheek lying agianst the nest, staring up at Hobi with that same look of pure adoration. The same way you looked at Namjoon.

"love you."

You close your eyes, blinking slow, sighing. Hoseok's pace stutters. Namjoon throbs against his backside. Across the nest, Yoongi says something to Jin, and Jin smiles. Tae giggles. Jungkook cum's loudly. hoseok doesn't realize he's closed his eyes until he opens them. blinking slow like you.

“Oh pup, does Hobi-alpha feel good?”

“So good alpha, can feel him in my tummy, can feel him next to you. Love Hobi alpha- love him lots and lots, like being close to him. like this cuz-cuz-” you struggle, words are so hard in omegaspace.

"Because you're as close to him as you can get?"

"Yeah. Smell like him too." You purr, eyelashes fluttering. Hoseok's breath hitches.

Namjoon lets go of Hobi's hips and Hoseok is so far down that he stops moving. Namjoon lands a slap on Hoseok's behind a punishment for stopping.

“I’m not really convinced Hobi wants to fuck you pup-” Namjoon says with false sincerity, the same tone he uses when he's teasing Yoongi.

“No, I do! I promise I do!” Hoseok hardly recognizes the panic in his own voice. The desperation that only comes with an approaching orgasm. He grabs your hips, pulling you back onto him, showing Namjoon.

“Huh really? Aren’t you gonna show it? Can you fuck her harder for me pup?” Hobi does, the pace so quick that it makes sweat bleed down his back. and the slap of skin on skin becomes a beat, becomes a melody.

Now this is fucking. Not the slow but thorough taking apart that Yoongi and Tae lavished you with. This is not how Namjoon fucks; gentle because he needs to be or else risk hurting you. No- this is slaps of Hobi's lap against your hips, turning your skin red like you’ve been spanked, his cock sliding in and out, curving up to kiss that spot inside of you. Quick and rabbit fast.

Hoseok is sure he’s doing a good job until Namjoon stops him with a hand on his collar. The twinkle in his eyes makes Hoseok feel so small he averts his gaze.

“Hang on, I want to see something.” Hoseok does pause, simply a puppet for Namjoon to push around when he wants to. hoseok is obedient, a good puppy.

Namjoon pulls Hobi away from you by his collar and Hobi pops out of you with a broken whine. Cock heavy and twitching, knot half popped at the base. But he’s a good puppy, a good puppy he swears, if the pack alpha needs to check the omega below him is alright then Hoseok will trust him.

Hoseok is kneeling there, heavy cock wet between his legs as Namjoon shuffles forward, taking Hobi's spot. One alpha taking an omega from another in the middle of the heat, in the middle of breeding- would be a challenge to any alpha’s ego.

But Hoseok just feels like he's going to cum. he's going to cum and namjoon is going to let him if he's only good. Hobi's cock just twitches. Wet with cum that isn’t his. White and translucent against where his skin goes darker and pink. Dripping a bit from the tip.

Namjoon pulls you onto him in one smooth movement. Putting his cock all the way in, you gasp, eyes going wide, lips sack. And a noise rises from Hobi's throat, not a growl but a whimper. Namjoon holds your wrists, forcing you back on his cock once, twice, grinning at Hobi all the while. Taunting him in a way that makes Hobi melt.

“Alpha alpha alpha please-” falls from your lips. A plea unanswered.

Namjoon pulls back just as quickly. Sliding out, and leaving you empty. Hobi watches as you struggle to clench. To breathe after that. Namjoon lands an open palmed slap over your hole, loud and wet. And you collapse back onto your hands and knees. So, limp you can’t hold yourself up. Sobbing dry.

“That’s what I thought pup.”

A small film of slick and cum comes away on his hand. Namjoon wipes it over Hobi's hip, hot as a brand before he guides him back between your legs. Hooking his chin over Hobi's shoulder to watch. Hobi doesn’t even fight- just lets Namjoon put it in and then guides his hips into a sloppy grind. Faster and faster.

He’d never admit it, and it’s embarrassing. But for a second after taking Namjoon’s cock- all Hobi can feel is wet.

He lets out a broken sound when you finally close around him- somehow tighter after being stretched around Namjoon’s gargantuan member. Your orgasm is fast approaching. Barreling towards you. Will the rest of your heat go this way? Traded from alpha to alpha, from knot to knot?

“Pups nice and open for you this way, you won’t have a problem knotting, even if you pop one outside, I can just push it in.”

Namjoon’s not wrong, Hoseok’s knot is adequate- he knows this. But- but-

Namjoon’s cock, it’s almost the same diameter as his knot normally. You’re so open, so gappy, that Hoseok could probably knot you and keep fucking you. Jimin will definitely do that just to make you squirt and get more of your slick. It’s fun. The other omega’s don’t squirt, at least not the way you do.

Your tongue lolls out a little. Lost to the heat fever, cute enough that Namjoon presses a thumb to your lips and wipes the saliva down your midline. Pausing to tease at your sensitive nipples, Namjoon doesn't really ever give them too much attention- Hobi has noticed.

Maybe because there's just so much more to pay attention to.

Like the fullness of your stomach, the cute pout to your cheeks while you gasp, the hazy way you look at them both above you, fucking you up, breaking you a little. That has the power to make them come undone with a single look. You lie your cheek on your hands and stare up at them. Gasping every time Hobi pushes flush.

"Want puppy to make me messy, want knot, please? Please alpha? can i have it? i've been so so good."

"of course you can pup. hobi..." namjoon trails off, and hoseok's orgasam is right there, right on the edge, waiting for namjoon's say so.

He doesn't give it. doesn't give Hoseok permission. hoseok's body can't with out it, tense down to his core, like a live wire prepared to snap with electricity.

Your clit twitches and your pussy clenches wet as Namjoon rolls your nipples between his thumbs and forefinger. Hobi whines, high and lupine, alarmed. If you keep doing that, then his knot is going to pop, and he wants- he should at least make you cum once. The others will never let him live it down if he doesn’t.

“How much do you want it pup? Can you show him?”

You whine, confused with the question, confused further when Namjoon’s hand snakes between the two of you, holding Hobi's cock as it goes in and out, prodding gently at the sensitive skin around the base. Exploring and checking, Hoseok honestly almost pops a knot right there, out of your hole, and lets all his cum go to waste. “Yes- yes I’ll-”

Namjoon's breath is hot on Hobi's ear, his lips brushing the Shell of it. "puppy, knot."

Namjoon strokes down Hobi’s peritoneum as he knots and Hobi honestly to god thinks he might see white for a moment, something pure instinct gripping him as he ruts forward, breeding without care for your comfort.

He pops his knot. Fucks it in once, then out, then back in. Relishing in the wetness as you squirt, turning the inside of your thighs glossy and speckled with droplets. Hobi doesn’t mind, he knows that one of the others- probably Jimin because he’s a little obsessed with your slick honestly- will clean both of you up later.

Namjoon takes Hobi’s hands and presses both of them to your stomach, small, a little soft normally but now…looks a bit bloated. “Do you feel that alpha?” Namjoon says, husky in his ear, and yes. Hobi can, he can feel the warmth there. Especially once you start to purr, eyelashes fluttering, obviously fucked to sleep. Something tugs in his gut and Hobi whines. High-pitched and lupine.

"Good puppy, so good for alpha. Good boy."

Hobi feels a bit like he might laugh, a bit like he might cry. (The cutest puppies are always a little extra fragile after knotting and Hobi is no different), Namjoon presses him closer pulling at the collar. Presses him down until you’re all cuddling. You on the bottom, Hobi in the middle, and Namjoon on top.

It's easy to help you move your leg and turn the full way so that you can burrow into Hoseok's front. Hiding from the world in the safety of your alpha. Your packmate.

Hoseok doesn’t even register that there’s wetness on his back, that Namjoon maybe rutted against the cleft of his ass, and came a little too. That the pack alpha got worked up enough by his pups being good and all the heat hormones on the air. That revelation can wait for a bit later when Hobi's not feeling quite so fragile.

In the meantime, Namjoon has pups to take care of.

“How did Hobi do omega? Do you feel nice and bred and full?”

You babble, eyes already half closed. Nodding cutely. “Best alpha, love Hobi alpha so so much, nice knot- best knot.”

Namjoon’s husky laugh conceals the sound of Hobi’s sniffles, and he’s intensely glad that he smells as happy as he feels- that you don’t open your eyes and see. He’s still breathing too heavily. Brain awash with happy hormones.

Hobi just successfully helped you through a wave of your heat, he didn’t fuck up, he didn’t do anything wrong-

Namjoon made sure of it, Namjoon made sure that Hobi had everything he needed, and you did too. He really is a good pack alpha. There is a lump in Hobi's throat that just won’t go away, even through his orgasm. even as he releases a bit more inside of you. Hobi's knotting is always a bit drawn out. You clench, milking him of as much spend as he has.

“Better than mine?” Namjoon teases.

You shake your head petulantly, you’re scent marking him everywhere, running your wrists clumsily over his sides, his shoulders, up his back. “Don’t wanna choose, want all.”

Jin huffs from across the nest. "We all know Tae has the best knot."

Jimin pops up from between Jungkook's thighs. Slick on his pudgy cheeks. "Hey! What about me!"

Namjoon strokes down Hobi's cheek, wiping away his tears. “We’ll give you all of them pup. Don’t you worry your pretty little fuzzy head at all.” Hobi has a feeling that the last sentence is more for him than for you. But you settle and huff. Really. You are close to sleep. Hobi is the one that finally made your fever quiet. Finally made it go down.

You smack your lips, “feel fuzzy, feel soft and good and full.” Hoseok is trying to reply, trying too. But behind him, Namjoon’s voice goes soft.

“And you want Hobi in your nest, right?”

Horror and terror fall on Hobi like a wave, almost making him drop, a swooping in his stomach so complete at the idea that you might- that you could-

Hoseok tries to pull back, pull away-

But your body goes firm, wrapping around him so quickly and pulling him to you with such a force. Offended by the very notion of what Namjoon insinuates. All but hissing at the pack alpha. One second Hoseok isn’t being hugged, and the next, your whole body- pussy and all, is clamping tight around him, holding around his neck.

“No! My alpha! Can't take him! Has to stay in the nest forever and ever and-"

“Shush I’m just teasing, no one’s going to take your Hobi from you.” Namjoon grins, but a look over his shoulder tells Hoseok that Namjoon wasn’t teasing, not at all.

Namjoon knows exactly how to settle the pack, exactly what they need and when. Hobi's body is completely relaxed now, completely at ease. No vague fear or anxiety in him. he'll have those words replaying in his head later, he knows he will.

My Alpha.

you'd snapped at the pack alpha for him, and you're still clutching him close, like hoseok is as vital to you as air. You want him. You want him in your nest. You want his scent. You want all of him, not just the parts that are convenient to use.

You settle, rubbing your head against Hobi's throat, like you want as much of his scent on you as possible. Still a little put out by it. A little angry at Namjoon. But your anger is just like Noodle's; more fluff than threat.

You do it again and again, scent marking Hobi until your breathing evens off. And you fall asleep like that, sandwiched under Hobi and Namjoon’s bodies. Hoseok between the two of you.

Hobi is a little too far gone looking down at you, a tear or two slipping out of his wet eyes. Namjoon guides him, hand in his hair. Pressing his nose into your scent gland and pinching at his scruff until Hobi's legs turn to jelly.

Hoseok sets his ear against your heart to hear it’s melody. the thump thump thump, and closes his eyes.

~-~

When you wake, the world is hazy.

Sensations bleed into each other neither real nor fake, the gauzy feeling of fresh flower petals, the sweetness of ice cream on your tongue, the dewy softness of a peach- your lover's skin plush beneath your teeth.

Each moment becomes another, each orgasm blending with the next until you’re not sure what day it is, whose fucking you, or who around you is asleep or awake. There's this pressure between your legs, a pressure that brings with it tingling pleasure and wetness.

There is hair on the inside of your thighs—no, not hair but someone's head. You blink awake among the sounds of sighs, slaps, and moans, making a soft noise in the back of your throat.

"Sorry pup, you started grinding against my thigh in your sleep."

You smack your lips together. Your body feels so good, so yummy. Yoongi pulls himself up from between your thighs, hands touching over your legs your stomach your everywhere. His chest is ruddy and sweaty, in just his boxers.

Everything brings a bone-deep pleasure, everything makes you feel soft and sleepy. The hungry roam of Yoongi's hands, possessive. The way he nuzzles into your throat, a little harder a little more aggressive than he usually would. Panting open-mouthed to breathe in your scent.

You're in heat. You can be forgiven for not noticing.

His eyes are dark pools when you look up at him. Pupils dilated. "I did?" Yoongi ducks low to kiss you, mouth salty and sweet, you sigh, still sleepy. Settling back into the nest. Yoongi's rubs over your side, needy, possessive. It's like his hands have a mind of their own.

"Mhmm, turned my pjs into a fucking state."

"Oh" you sigh, sort of out of it, already parting your legs, routine, all instinct. "Sorry."

Something gnaws at the back of your head, there is a glint in Yoongi's eyes that usually isn't there when he touches you. His heartbeat is rabbit-fast.

Huh.

Your lips smack together and you grind back against the hardness between his legs, the front of his boxers are soaked, and the fabric feels nice against your entrance. One of the others can probably deal with whatever that is. You have more important things to do. You are too small to handle whatever it is.

Yoongi gets his cock out, and tells you that you can close your eyes again if you want to. You can't really tell if he's fucking you awake or fucking you back to sleep but you do like it. Beneath you, Hobi slumbers. A warm body. You're still guarding him.

There are moments of lucidity, moments of clarity brought on by pain or pleasure. But the moments between the lucidity bleed into each other.

Beside you, Jin rides Tae’s cock with ruthless efficiency. Never one to be forced to present. His thighs move as he rides, straining. Jin is so big and strong looking and Tae lies below him still in her pretty pretty dress, torn at the waist from where Jungkook got a little too rough hours ago. You'll be upset about that later because you like that dress on her.

Tae has no right to look so good in her dresses with her cock out. Especially when she looks up at Jin, hand behind her head, settling back to let the pack omega take what he needs. Her fingers twine through the end of a leash almost lazily wrapping it over her knuckles and letting it go loose again. Jimin's collar at the other end of it, the other alpha diligently fucking Jungkook in a presenting position. The slap of skin on skin is an echoic melody.

You are close besides, close enough that if you really reached, you might be able to hold Tae's hand, or maybe Jinnie’s. You'd really really really like to hold Jin's hand.

But holding Hobi's is more important at the moment. Hobi slumbers beneath you. Yoongi must have been cuddling both of you. Must have been guarding both of you through sleep to make sure nothing disturbed you. Maybe you started grinding into Hobi first and Yoongi detangled you. You're glad he stopped you, Hobi's too sensitive, too puppy to do that kind of thing to without asking. Even inside of a heat.

Yoongi is a good mate, above you, he breathes heavily, chest straining.

His hair is sweaty and shaggy in his face, swaying as he works his cock into you so good you can hardly speak. Can hardly form a coherent thought.

But he pauses when he sees your tears at your waterline. He doesn't need to ask you what's wrong, you just tell him.

“I wish I was an octopus.”

“To hold everyone's hands?”

“Yes.” you sniffle, and Yoongi’s eyes furrow.

“Are you honestly crying because you can’t hold all of our hands right now? While I'm inside you?”

“No” you lie, pouting at being found out. Yoongi just takes both of your hands in his, locking your fingers together, and keeps fucking you. Harder this time, like he has something to prove. Something to distract you from.

Gone is the slow and gentle. Yoongi fucks forward into you like he needs you. Quick and efficient.

On the other side, Jimin is taking Jungkook apart under Namjoon’s watchful eye, fucking him hard and fast even though his knot is already half popped. The pack alpha has his thighs splayed, and Jungkook is kissing up and down his cock. He tries to take it in but even if he were to unhinge his jaw, it still would be too tight of a fit.

He sates his need to suck by licking up and down. Lapping at Namjoon's knot, the furrow of his head, it's veiny girth. All of it explored and kissed. Jungkook's eyebrows drawn together, looking angry. Ignoring Namjoon's chides of "gentle omega, gentle." (He'll probably get a hole spanking if he's not careful, but maybe that's what Jungkook really wants.)

Hobi sleeps below you, his breath even and measured. Your face still resting on his chest. He's resting soundly even though the whole room is full of the sound of moans and pleasure, skin slapping against skin. You try and untangle one of your hands from yoongi's to stifle your own sound but.

But Yoongi doesn't let you. you squeak, loud, and Yoongi grins, fucking faster, competitive with it. Across the nest Jimin fucks Jungkook faster. Tae looks over at the two of you and grins. An alpha expression, bearing his teeth at the show of Yoongi's dominance.

Hoseok's upper lift lips in a soundless snarl. still completely asleep. He's the closest one to you and Yoongi. The first one who notices. close enough to scent it on the air.

The pheromones from the others are a haze on the hair, hot on the back of Yoongi’s tongue joining the taste of your slick. He’d cleaned you up after Hobi knotted you, the two of you cuddled and close and giggly, both pupish underneath the gently watchful eye of Namjoon, dolling out praise and sips of water and corners of chocolate in equal measure. you'd fallen asleep mostly, mostly accept for the way you'd ground back against him after Hobi had slipped out, soft. and you- still insatiable.

Now, it’s Yoongi’s turn again, and thank god for that. There has been this almost ticking in the back of his mind, not a fever spiking, not quite like that, more drops into a bucket of water that now threaten to overflow. Yoongi's body trembles. And he can't stop himself from sneaking a hand down between your legs.

He's already pretty worked up from eating you out while you slept, and you're close too. Even if he cums he can just play with your clit like this until he's ready and hard again. It's a good thing that Yoongi doesn't have a knot, that he doesn't have to wait really to fuck you as the others do. He can just keep going, can just ignore the discomfort of overstimulation to avoid a deeper discomfort.

Yoongi hates disappointing his mate.

So he works his cock back and forth, nudging little sleepy moans from your throat. Your body is boneless below him just how he likes it.

Your slick is so good, it calls to him like alcohol must call to a drunk, like cigarettes to a smoker. Neither drug nor addiction can describe it perfectly. Yoongi presses his thumb against your clit, and you gush around his cock. clawing at his hand blindly. Sensitive, so sensitive after being fucked for so long. But better for him, more. Yoongi wants more. Wants as much as you can give him.

more more more, more and more more. That's what Yoongi needs.

He guides it up to his tongue sweeter than honey, than ambrosia. It makes his mind quiet, and his instincts tug deeper and deeper until he's practically buried by them.

Yoongi’s mating mark is so sensitive he can hardly touch it without his cock jumping. Whatever it is, whatever this is he thinks it comes from there.

He holds your hands so that you’re not tempted to abuse your clit any longer. He’s so good in the way that he works his cock back and forth, just perfect, just right in the way that he knows the movements of your body, the feeling of you, hiding your face in the pillows because you're shy.

Yoongi is watching you. Yoongi is hardly even blinking.

“Oh, is my little sweetheart shy again?”

Yoongi is going to cum after this next thrust, he can feel this orgasm building, hot and bleeding down his back. Yoongi tries to thrust forward, and you let out a small squeal- a sound of pain.

Every alpha in the room jerks hard.

Even Jin and Jungkook. Everyone, eyes directed to you and Yoongi. Hobi's body all but flinches, lifting his head up. Starting even though he's only half awake.

No sooner has Yoongi registered that and started (in both equal panic and dismay) Does the pain and discomfort erupt from between his legs. Something very very hot and sensitive there, something stretching him so so tight.

“Ow ow ow ow ow what the fuck- what the actual fuck”

It feels like denial, like his approaching orgasm has disappeared replaced with a feeling like he's burning. A pressure and an ache so firm that it feels like he’s bursting from the inside out. Pleasure unfulfilled, orgasm right there but impossibly out of reach.

Yoongi's hands cover his cock, wet with your spend, but even that almost feels like too much.

It's a bit comical. How quick the pack panics.

Namjoon is up on his feet faster than anyone can blink, cock flailing a little. Even Jimin pulls out of Jungkook, as gently as he can but still apologizes, "Sorry, Koo sorry sorry-"

You're still not too sure exactly what happened only that you can feel a bit of an ache in you, not like you're torn but- Sort of how it felt when Jimin dragged his knot in and out of your cunt earlier, back when it was half popped.

Your scents shift from sweet and happy to scared and in pain. The scent of panic is all but a collar around your packmate's necks. Pulling them closer. Making them forget about the pleasure hanging hot and heavy in the air. All needs are superseded by two packmates in pain.

The worst is Yoongi, gone is the chocolate sweetness. His happy pleasure-ridden scent. Now sour with fear and pain.

Namjoon stands, jerks, and slips in the nest after stepping on a slippery waterproof blanket, he falls flat on his ass. He's up before anyone can say anything before anyone can get to Yoongi.

The pack descended, sudden shouting, raised voices, half-nude bodies up and moving when they should be resting. Tae has you, drags you close, searching between your legs for blood, thankfully finding none, when her fingers come away.

Unfortunately- pinches and accidents happen but she’s eternally glad that you haven’t- her breath comes out short- that you're not torn.

If it didn't happen with Namjoon, then why did it happen with Yoongi?

You look over at where Yoongi’s crouched, cursing dully. “Mate? Broke mate?” You mumble, upset. You cling to Tae's front, crying, big tears dripping down your cheeks. Trembling.

“It’s okay pup shh shhh.”

Yoongi swats at Namjoon still holding his cock, big hands covering all of it gingerly. Hissing through his teeth. “fucking hell Joon- just give me a goddamn second.” But Namjoon’s hand is on Yoongi’s wrist between his thigh, pulls his hand away gently.

“Let me see let me see- Yoon, I am a doctor; I promise you it’s nothing I haven't seen before- Just-"

Yoongi whimpers and pulls his hand away from the bulge at the base of his cock.

Namjoon pauses, blinking. Face to face with it. And he realizes, no, he actually has never seen this before. Namjoon’s eyebrows all but disappear into the atmosphere.

"What the fuck?"

Only some truly devastating circumstances can bring an in heat omega into lucidity. You come back to yourself. "What's wrong? what's wrong with my mate?"

The rest of the pack stare dumbly. Ringing your mate just staring. Unsure what to do.

Because Yoongi, Beta Min Yoongi- your mate- full-blooded beta-

Has just popped a knot.

~-~

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~-~

Notes:

namjoon at the very begining of bily does say that he wants to spoil the m/c, it's in his internal monolouge but now she is substantially spoiled. and he is a happy little alpha about it.

taetae is sucking so much, poor little pup is gonna lactate the second her heat is through 🥺 what a mean mommy for turning her pup milky, what do we think? do we want the change to be permanent?

namjoon: baby i am /tired, mc: you motherfucker, making me do all the work- (she's such a bratt i love her)

very vauge implied human furnature hobi? why am i kinda a little weirdly into hobi being a very very obedient sub. he's such a good boy hold the tray so well! i love the idea of him getting praised for very simple things and getting hard over it. maybe i am...not as submissive as i thought.

when hobi is fucking the m/c i struggled alot with seeing if like- i wanted it to be soft or horny. but i truly think namjoon just realized that hobi needed to be in puppy space for it and also that the m/c needed to hear that hobi wanted her after him kinda...avoiding her for the first part of her heat. namjoon is aware that the m/c does not know that hobi's place in the heats and that he's slightly less active than the rest of them because of his trauma.

yoongi *suffering the effects of slick intoxication* m/c: i am just a baby,

do you like the suprise???? was it a good cliffhanger???? did you like it????????????? 😈 i'm so evil for giving you guys yoongi knot angst last chapter and actually giving you yoongi knotting this chapter llasjdlfjaslkdjflakjf but what you gonna do spank me?

522 notes · View notes

winxanity-ii · 4 months ago

Text

FOXED IN [2/2]

ship: fem!fennec fox!reader x various!beastar warnings: non-explicit ( maybe cursing/profanity; sorry y'all I gotta loose mouth) word count: 4.4k a/n: lolol y'all tell me why it took me like 3 weeks to write just 4k words?? i swear school work got my ass writing like 150 words a day/whenever i can 😭😭 coutning down to christmas break mwah... Part 1

★·.·´🇧‌🇪‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇦‌🇷‌🇸‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You were staring at yourself in the bottom-left corner of the mirror, crouched like you were hiding from your own reflection.

It wasn't like the rest of you had changed. Same face, same skin, same... everything.

Except for those. The ears. And the tail.

You ran your hand over your head for the fifth time in ten minutes, fingertips grazing your human ears where they'd always been, before trailing upward to the new set. Secondary ears, perched high on your head, covered in soft, velvety fur. They flicked lightly at your touch, like they were alive—like they could feel you.

And then there was the tail. You could feel its weight behind you, swishing gently across the floor like it had been there your whole life.

"Calm down, ____. Calm the fuck down," you muttered, your voice tight as your hands dropped into your lap. "You're not a freak. You're just—"

You paused, staring at your reflection. Your tail swished in your peripheral vision, as if taunting you.

"—just... anthropomorphically challenged," you finished, deadpan. "Yeah, no, that doesn't help."

You tilted your head, the new ears moving along with the motion, twitching at the sound of your voice echoing softly off the dorm room walls. Twitching. Like they had their own independent nervous system or something.

"Oh my gods, I'm like a walking FurryCon booth," you hissed under your breath. Your tail wagged again, making a soft thump against the floor. "Cut it out!" you snapped, glaring at it.

The tail stopped, curling slightly like it was offended.

For a moment, you just stared at yourself, breathing slow and deep, trying to will away the rising panic. But the longer you looked, the harder it was to ignore how... not normal this was.

You reached up again, brushing your fingers over the fur. Soft, velvety. Honestly, they felt kinda nice—like luxury pillow material—but that only made it worse.

You could feel the touch through the ears, every stroke and tug sending tingles down your spine, all the way to your toes.

It wasn't bad, exactly, but it wasn't something you were used to, either.

You squinted at your reflection. "Okay. Pros and cons. Pros and cons." You tapped a finger to your chin like you were about to make a PowerPoint presentation to yourself.

"Pro: I didn't, like, fully mutate. Still got my face. I'm still me. Kinda." You gave your reflection a once-over. "Con: I now look like I could be fan-casted into a BTS Hybird AU fic."

Another pause. Your tail thumped lightly again, this time like it was trying to soothe you. Oh, we're friends now? you thought bitterly.

You straightened up from your crouch, squaring your shoulders as you stared yourself down. "I'm still me. This is fine. You're fine, ____. Nobody even knows you're... this."

Except that was a lie, wasn't it? Blond Labrador Boy had seen you.

Your 'cousin' had definitely seen you, tackling you like a rugby player on the street and announcing your new school enrollment to the entire city.

And who knew how many other people were out there, casually walking around with ears and tails like this was a thing?

The thought sent a chill down your spine. Your tail swished again, making another faint thump.

"Oh, so now you're nervous too?" you hissed at it. The tail stopped mid-swish, freezing awkwardly in the air like a guilty child caught red-handed.

You sighed, finally breaking eye contact with your reflection and dropping into the chair beside your bed.

The ears twitched at the sound of faint chatter outside your door, catching snippets of distant conversations you wouldn't have been able to hear before.

It was a weird feeling, hearing things so clearly and intimately.

You groaned, flopping back against the chair. "Great. Super hearing. Now I'm a discount superhero too."

Your gaze flicked to the mirror again, to the reflection of your tail, curled awkwardly around your chair like it didn't know where it was supposed to go. It looked so out of place, just hanging there, like someone had pasted a sticker on a portrait.

"This is fine," you said again, more to convince yourself than anything. You leaned forward, running a hand through your hair and tugging gently at the ears again. They flattened slightly, and you sighed.

"Totally fine," you muttered. "I just need to figure out how the hell I ended up in a whole-ass Disney movie."

You dropped your hand, letting out a shaky breath. Your tail twitched again, brushing against your ankle like it was trying to reassure you. Yeah, sure. That's comforting.

"Okay, think," you said aloud. "I was at the pool. There were kids—too many kids. Somebody's wet-ass croc sent me flying. I hit the water. And now I'm..."

You trailed off, looking at yourself again. The reflection didn't offer answers, just more questions.

"Maybe I hit my head," you tried, your words shaky but gaining confidence as you spoke. "Yeah, that's it. Smacked it real good on the bottom of the pool. This is a concussion thing. Right? This is my brain making stuff up. Any second now, I'm gonna wake up in the shallow end with chlorine in my nose and my baddass nieces and nephews laughing at me."

The tail swished again. Your ears twitched, catching faint noises outside the door—muffled voices, footsteps, distant laughter.

"It's fine, ____," you told yourself, your tone sharper now. "You're gonna figure this out. One step at a time."

That's when you smelled it.

A soft, flowery scent filled your senses; it was faint at first but grew stronger, making your nose twitch involuntarily and your new ears perk up.

Before you could puzzle it out, a knock came at the door.

The voice was muffled but clear enough to make you freeze. Your ears caught the sound of footsteps shuffling just outside, even before the knock—a light, hesitant rhythm that matched the voice perfectly. You blinked, the scent hitting you again. Your tail twitched, matching the rhythm of your thudding heart.

"Uh, ____, your cousin Vox is waiting for you outside the dorms... he said something about beating the lunch rush?"

The voice was soft and kind of awkward, carrying an airy quality to it.

You stared at the door for a moment, your reflection forgotten. "Yeah," you called out, your voice a little higher than you wanted it to be. "I'm... Uh, thank you! I'll be right there."

"You're welcome," the voice replied, followed by the soft shuffle of footsteps retreating, the scent fading with them. You exhaled, realizing you'd been holding your breath.

"Right," you muttered to yourself, standing up and brushing your clothes down like that would somehow help you feel normal. "Pay attention later. Deal with this... whatever this is."

You froze mid-brush, cursing under your breath. "I should've asked how to get outside."

You glanced around your room, biting your lip as you remembered how confusing it had been just getting here. The winding halls and staircases that twisted in ways that didn't quite make sense.

You were pretty sure you'd passed the same painting of a sunflower three times before you finally found the door marked with your room number—901.

In the corner of your eye, you caught sight of your reflection again—this time, ears drooping slightly. You frowned, then made a face at yourself, sticking out your tongue. "Yeah, real helpful," you muttered, shaking your head before deciding to just thug it out and go.

You stepped out of your room, closing the door behind you and taking a deep breath. "Okay. Just... find the exit. How hard can it be?"

As you started walking, you quickly realized you were surrounded by others—just girls. Your eyes flicked around, taking in the different forms.

You remembered your 'cousin' rambling about gender-segregated dorms, so you chalked it up to being in the girls' dorm.

But as you kept walking, something else began to dawn on you. You weren't just surrounded by other girls; you were surrounded by other, like, carnivorous girls. Sharp eyes, pointed ears, and an aura that made the small hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

And they weren't your size. They were big—taller, broader, more imposing. Compared to them, you felt almost comically small; it was rare, only a few times did you spot someone smaller than you.

You glanced nervously at a nearby group chatting against the wall. One of them—a towering girl with long dark, glossy hair—laughed loudly, her sharp teeth catching the light. Another girl, smaller but just as intimidating, flicked a sleek, striped tail that looked distinctly feline.

You swallowed hard, your eyes darting around as you tried not to look too out of place as you walked past.

You barely noticed when you stepped outside, the warm sunlight hitting your face and momentarily distracting you from the strangeness of it all.

The building behind you was large and imposing, with a plaque above the entrance that read: Female Carnivore Dorm.

You blinked up at it, the words sinking in slowly.

Female. Carnivore. Dorm.

As you scanned the area, your eyes landed on a familiar figure standing a little way down the dorm steps. The boy from earlier—the small fox boy, Vox, if you remembered right. He was by himself, his ears perking up as soon as he spotted you.

He beamed, his tail wagging excitedly as he ran over to you, crashing into you with another hug. "I missed you so much, cuz! Can't believe you're really here! This year is gonna be so awesome!!"

He hooked an arm around you, tugging you along before you could even react. "Come on, let's meet up with the guys! We gotta beat the lunch rush!"

You barely managed a grunt in response, your arms pinned awkwardly to your sides. Despite his short stature, he was still taller than you, his enthusiasm making him feel even larger.

As you followed him, or more accurately, were dragged by him, you started noticing the others lounging around.

It was a mixture of herbivorous and carnivorous features. "...and there's a ton of clubs you can join!" your cousin rambled, oblivious to your growing unease. "I can help you pick one out later, but for now, let's just get to lunch before all the good stuff's gone!"

His voice grounded you, if only a little. You focused on his words, nodding absently as your eyes darted around the courtyard. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably, but you didn't have time to dwell on it.

Vox was still tugging you along like it was his life's mission to get you fed.

And his excitement was infectious, even if you were still reeling from everything. You couldn't help but think of your cousin Devon. The thought made your chest tighten, a flicker of warmth amid the chaos.

You hadn't seen Devon in ages—he'd always been the "fun cousin," the one who dragged you into trouble but somehow managed to charm everyone out of getting mad.

It was like the time Devon convinced you to climb a tree for the "best view ever," only to abandon you when the branch cracked. You'd sworn then to never trust his grin again, yet here you were, following another like it without question.

Vox seemingly had the same boundless energy, the same way of dragging you into things without a second thought. And as you trailed behind him, Vox's tail might have been wagging, but it was Devon's mischievous grin you saw every time Vox beamed at you.

Soon, he led you toward a small fountain surrounded by students.

The first to take notice of you two was the blond Labrador boy from earlier. He was standing at the center of a group of guys, and his floppy ears perked up as soon as he spotted you, his golden tail starting to wag in an eager rhythm that matched the bright grin on his face.

"Hey, you're okay!" he called out, stepping forward with an energy that was as disarming as it was sincere. His soft brown eyes met yours, and before you could even react, he reached out and gently patted your head, his hand light but reassuring. "I was worried after what happened earlier. You feeling alright?"

You blinked, struggling to find your words. "Uh, yeah. I'm fine," you mumbled, still processing the overly friendly gesture. His tail wagged faster for a second, his grin widening.

Before you could say more, your attention was pulled to someone else in the group.

A guy who immediately stole your breath. He was tall—easily the tallest person you'd seen all day—with broad shoulders and a relaxed, easy presence.

His dark brown skin contrasted sharply with his shaggy, platinum blonde locs that hung messily over his eyes, giving him an effortlessly cool vibe. His short, floppy ears rested close to his head, twitching slightly as he smiled at you beneath his thick eyebrows.

Everything about him radiated chill, from the slow sway of his tail to his unbothered posture.

He walked over with a casual stride, throwing an arm over the blond Labrador's shoulder. The height difference was almost comical—the Labrador barely reached his chest.

The taller guy chuckled, his voice deep but mellow. "Now what'd ya run off to, Jack?"

The Labrador boy—Jack—turned, laughing sheepishly before glancing back at you and Vox. The taller guy noticed you two as well, his gaze shifting. He smiled, one of his small canines poking out slightly, and leaned down at the waist to give Vox a high five.

"Wassup, Vox?"

Vox grinned, returning the high five with enthusiasm. "Nothin' much, Collot! Just showing my cuz around Cherryton."

He threw his arm around you again, pulling you in closer. Collot's eyes shifted to you, still bent at the waist, and he held his hand out for a handshake.

"Nice to meet ya. Name's Collot," he said, his voice warm.

You hesitated for a second before taking his hand. His grip was firm but not overwhelming, his palm warm against yours. "Uh, nice to meet you too. I'm ____," you replied, giving what you hoped was a confident smile.

Collot straightened up, still towering over you even from a distance. "Cool. Vox's been talking nonstop about ya since he found out you were coming," he said, his smile turning into a friendly grin.

You blinked, glancing at Vox, who just beamed up at you, oblivious to the embarrassment that was creeping up your neck. "Uh, yeah, well... it's my first day," you muttered, trying to laugh it off.

Jack gave you another reassuring smile, his tail wagging slowly behind him. "Don't worry. You'll fit right in." He gestured toward the group of guys behind him. "Come on, let's get you introduced."

Vox wasted no time, tugging you forward as Collot and Jack led the way.

Walking over to the group, a voice chimed up, drawing your attention to a smaller, wiry boy with reddish-brown hair that stuck out at wild angles. His sharp green eyes were quick, darting between you and Vox with a hint of amusement. He leaned slightly forward, his short, pointed ears twitching as if he were constantly on high alert.

"Who's the hottie?" he asked, his grin crooked, his eyes flicking toward Vox teasingly.

Vox's face scrunched in playful annoyance. "Aye, chill out, Durham! That's my cuz, alright?"

Durham snickered, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, just messing with ya."

Vox turned back to you, rolling his eyes. "That's Durham," he said, gesturing toward the coyote hybrid. Durham gave you a quick, crooked grin, his bushy tail flicking once as if punctuating his easygoing energy.

"Welcome to the chaos," Durham said with a playful lilt, his grin growing wider as he eyed Jack's wagging tail. "Speaking of chaos, you feeling okay after Jack's heroic rescue? His tail's still wagging—might take off soon."

"Hey!" Jack huffed, ears perking up indignantly. Durham's laugh only grew louder, his sharp teeth flashing.

Before you could even register Durham's teasing, another figure stepped into view. He was shorter than the others, with olive-toned skin and messy gray hair streaked with faint spots.

There was something almost wild about his energy. His round ears twitched frequently, and his curled tail swayed behind him like he was barely containing his own excitement. His sharp grin, revealing slightly larger-than-average teeth, was equal parts friendly and mischievous.

"Miguno," Vox said, introducing the spotted hyena hybrid. Miguno gave you a toothy grin, leaning casually against Collot as he waved.

"Good to see someone new around here. Don't mind the chaos—Durham's worse than me," he said, his sharp teeth flashing as his grin grew even wider. Something about his energy was electric, like he thrived on the group's chaos.

"Lies," Durham shot back, but his grin betrayed his amusement.

The rapid-fire introductions had your head spinning. Each name and face blurred together, their personalities hitting you one after another like a whirlwind you couldn't escape.

And then... you saw him.

Lanky and pale, with shaggy bluish-gray hair streaked with cream highlights, the wolf hybrid stood slightly apart from the others. His posture was hunched, his long limbs curling inward as if he were trying to take up less space.

His dark, almond-shaped eyes flickered to the group occasionally, but he mostly kept his gaze low, avoiding their chatter, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

His drooping ears twitched faintly, responding to the noise around him, and his long, scruffy tail swayed low, mirroring his awkward demeanor.

Your gaze lingered on him. Something about the way he carried himself felt off—not in a bad way, just... different.

The others were loud, energetic, owning their space. But this one? He was quiet, reserved, like he didn't want to be noticed.

Why does he seem so familiar? you thought, a strange sense of déjà vu bubbling up, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. It was like you'd seen him before, but only in a dream—or maybe in the back of your mind, in some long-buried memory.

"Legoshi," Jack said, nudging the wolf with a friendly grin. "Say hi."

The name hit you like a freight train. Your breath caught as your mind scrambled to make sense of what you were seeing.

Legoshi.

Your heart thudded in your chest as pieces began to click together faster than you could stop them. Carnivores. Cherryton. Jack. Vox. Legoshi.

This can't be real. This can't—

The group's chatter seemed to fade as your pulse roared in your ears.

Am I in fucking Beastars?

☆

Time seemed to blur after that revelation. One moment, you were standing by the fountain, and the next, you found yourself sitting at a lunch table.

The chatter of the cafeteria buzzed around you, the noise overwhelming—students chatting, utensils clinking, chairs scraping against the floor—but it all felt distant, like you were watching a scene play out from behind soundproof glass.

You stared blankly at the plate in front of you, slowly picking at your food—a sad, slightly overcooked egg that seemed to mock you in its mediocrity.

Vox and his friends filled the space around you, their energy bouncing back and forth like a rubber ball in a crowded room. You could hear Collot laughing loudly at something Miguno said, Durham snickering along, while Jack chimed in with his soft-spoken voice. But none of it really registered.

Your mind was too busy running a mile a minute, trying to process the impossibility of your situation.

I'm not a furry, you thought, stabbing a piece of egg with your fork. I mean, sure, I dabbled in a fanfic or two, but this? This is insane.

You glanced around the cafeteria, taking in the sight of students with human bodies but animal features—ears, tails, fur, scales. The way they moved, the way they interacted—it was surreal.

The low murmur of a nearby conversation caught your ear—too clear, too distinct. A girl with glossy feline ears leaned over her tray, whispering something to her friend. Her tail swayed lazily behind her, the fur shimmering in the sunlight.

It should've been normal—or at least as normal as anything else here—but you couldn't look away.

Before you realized it, her sharp gaze flicked to you, catching your eye for half a second. Her pupils narrowed slightly, and a wave of heat surged up your neck as you quickly averted your gaze, your heart thudding in your chest.

Smooth, you thought bitterly, stabbing at the egg again. Real subtle.

The pressure of trying to seem normal began to creep up your spine, making your ears flick involuntarily. It felt like the entire cafeteria could see you, like every twitch of your tail screamed, "I don't belong here." You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to blend in.

Beastars is supposed to be set in a world of anthropomorphic animals, you mused, peeking open your eyes to watch the girl turn back to her friend, her feline features utterly unbothered. So what the hell is this?

It was absurd, like something out of a fever dream. And yet, here you were, surrounded by them.

Is this really Beastars?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a gentle nudge. You looked up to see Jack smiling at you, his tail wagging slightly.

"Hey, ____," he said, his voice friendly. "How was your old school? Was it anything like Cherryton?"

You blinked, your fork pausing mid-air. Old school?

Panic clawed at the back of your throat. How were you supposed to answer that? You didn't even know what your supposed background was supposed to be. And Vox was sitting right next to you. If you lied, he could easily call you out.

Before you could stammer out a response, Vox chimed in, saving you from your predicament.

"Oh, she was homeschooled," he said casually, taking a bite of his sandwich. "So she might not be as used to all this social stuff yet, you know?"

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, grateful for Vox's quick thinking. Thank god, you thought. This is perfect. I can roll with that.

You offered a sheepish smile, nodding along, the tiniest smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "Yeah, it's... a bit overwhelming," you admitted, your voice a bit shaky, trying to sell the homeschooled bit as much as you could.

No need to drag out fake stories about classmates, teachers, or what electives you took back in the "real" world. You could just sit back and let the homeschool excuse handle all the heavy lifting.

In your head, though, the real story was much messier. You weren't homeschooled—far from it. You knew nothing about homeschooling beyond what you read in books and saw on TV; public school had been your playground and battleground.

You'd seen it all: hallway fights over nothing, the chaos of pep rallies, and those awkward group projects where you did 90% of the work.

But here? In this place, wherever the hell this was? Yeah, let's call it a coma. The pool, the slip, the whole "falling into another world" thing? It had all the makings of a good old-fashioned knock to the head.

I'm in a hospital somewhere, you told yourself, hooked up to a machine while a nurse complains about understaffing. This? This is just the brain doing brain shit.

And hey, if this was a dream, then maybe all you had to do was play along until you woke up.

But whatever it was, you decided to roll with it. You didn't have many options.

Homeschool, huh? you thought. I've seen those documentaries—unsocialized weirdos trying to find their way in the world, eating lunch alone because they don't know what the word "lit" means. You snorted softly. I can fake that if I have to.

"Hey, ____." Jack pulled you back to the conversation once again; his golden tail was wagging hard now, almost as if it had a mind of its own.

"Huh?" you asked, blinking at him.

"I said, don't worry about not being good with talking to people. We'll help you out!" His voice was so genuinely optimistic it made your chest tighten.

You were about to reply when a snicker broke the moment.

It came from one of the boys—Durham. His shoulders were shaking as he laughed, pointing lazily in Jack's direction. "By we, he means himself," the coyote said, grinning. "You know how Jack gets. Tail's wagging harder than a windshield wiper in a thunderstorm. Bet he's already got a crush."

The group erupted into laughter, and Jack's face turned a deep shade of red.

"W-What?! No!" Jack stammered, his ears twitching erratically as his tail kept wagging despite his obvious embarrassment. "That's not— I didn't mean it like that!"

Miguno burst into laughter, leaning forward to nudge Jack's shoulder. "Aw, c'mon Jack, don't be shy! We all saw how you were wagging your tail earlier, like a little puppy."

Vox, ever the instigator, patted Jack on the shoulder with a wide, toothy grin. "Yeah, relax, buddy. She's just my cousin. You don't have to marry her."

You nearly choked on your own breath, the absurdity of the situation hitting you like a freight train. "Wait, what?" you managed to say, but your voice was drowned out by more laughter from the group.

Jack covered his face with both hands, muttering something under his breath that you couldn't catch. His tail, however, kept wagging wildly, betraying every bit of his flustered state.

"Alright, alright, chill," you said, holding up a hand to quiet the chaos. "Let the man breathe before he combusts."

Durham and Miguno both chimed in with their own apologies, their expressions a mix of sheepishness and amusement.

"Yeah, our bad," Durham said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "We were just messing around."

Miguno nodded, his tail flicking behind him. "Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, really. Just having a bit of fun."

Jack peeked out from behind his hands, his cheeks still pink, but he managed a sheepish smile. "Thanks," he mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

You raised an eyebrow at him, fighting back a grin, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your own cheeks. "No worries," you said, your voice a little softer.

This whole situation was ridiculous, but at least it was entertaining.

As the laughter died down, Vox leaned toward you, his smile as mischievous as ever. "See? Told you we'd help you fit in. You're already the life of the party."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the small smile that crept onto your face.

The group continued chatting, the conversation drifting to topics like classes, clubs, and campus drama. You mostly kept to yourself, occasionally nodding along or giving short answers when prompted.

For a moment, the weirdness of everything—the ears, the tails, the everything—faded into the background.

It was surreal, like something out of a story—but it was real. As real as the egg on your plate.

And for now, you had no choice but to roll with it.

But in the back of your mind, the same thoughts kept circling.

How long am I gonna be here? And how the fuck am I going to survive it?

Whatever this was—dream, coma, or insanity—you'd have to figure it out. But for now, blending in would have to do.

One step at a time, you told yourself. Don't drown...again.

Lego

#beastars #beastars x reader #legoshi #haru #beastars legoshi #beastars louis #beastars haru #beastars manga #alternate universe #hybrid universe #hybridfanfiction #hybrid #anime x reader #anime fanfic #anime and manga #animals #xani-writes: beastars fics #funny

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ktownshizzle · 6 months ago

Text

Masterlist

My name is K and this is the byproduct of my Min Yoongi and Bangtan Sonyeondan brainrot.

Please remember all stories herein are purely fiction. I do not claim to know BTS irl. I put warnings in every chapter. Please be guided by them, so you can have an enjoyable reading experience. I do not have an upload schedule. I will turn on my requests soon, but for now please enjoy my ongoing and completed stories below. do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my writing without my express permission to do so.

About Me | WIP update | Buy me a ko-fi

Join my permanent taglist

Requests are closed as of 11/08

Minors DNI

Wild & Free

Status: Completed

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: Everybody says they want to marry Min Yoongi. But what if he only wants to say 'yes' to you. Alternatively: While on the last leg of their PTD tour, Yoongi discovers there was such a thing as drive-thru weddings in Las Vegas - spontaneous, wild, exciting - something his pretty little brain can't seem to process having lived the last decade of his life planned to perfection by his management team, which includes you. When he goes down a rabbit hole of Youtube videos about The Little White Wedding Chapel (Omo! Michael Jordan got married there!), he starts getting all sorts of ideas - all of it starring him and you. Genre: Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Childhood friends to lovers, Idol!au, Coworkers to lovers (reader is a HYBE employee)

Terms & Conditions

Status: Ongoing

⋆.˚ Series Masterlist ⋆.˚

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to? Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Love & Lullabies

Status: Ongoing

⋆.˚ Series Masterlist ⋆.˚

Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.) Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut (tbd), idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

Friends & Fools

Status: Completed

Click here

Summary: You and Yoongi have always been just friends—inseparable since childhood, roommates in the city, partners in navigating life’s chaos. At your high school reunion, the questions start: Are you two finally together? Uh, no. But as the night goes on, and Yoongi looks at you like that, hmm—has everyone else seen something you’ve been too scared to admit? Genre: Fluff, Suggestive, non-idol!au, best friends & roommates to lovers

A Christmas Encore {Holiday Fic}

Status: Completed

Part One | Part Two

Summary: You never thought you’d see Min Yoongi again, not in this lifetime, not in this place. He left years ago with big dreams and bigger talent, trading snow-covered Seollim Hollow for the city lights of Seoul. But now, with the cultural center—the heart of your hometown—on the verge of being sold to a soulless corporation, you’ll do anything to save it. When Yoongi appears on your doorstep, it feels like a miracle wrapped in regret. But as the two of you work together to save the center, old promises resurface, along with feelings you thought you’d left behind. Can you trust someone who was never meant to stay? Or will you just get hurt again? Genre: Childhood Friends to Kinda Lovers to Kinda Strangers to Friends to Lovers (WHAT?! Yeah I got dizzy too) Second chances basically, Fluff, Smut, Mild Angst, Very Hallmark

Let Me Love You {Song fic Drabble}

Status: Pending

Click here for the Preview

Honey & Citrus

Status: Completed Read here

Summary: You haaate your job, but at least there’s this sexy eye-candy at your favorite cafe to distract you from your miserable 9 to forever grind. Your simple, casual nods with him, turn into a silent caffeine war when, after his small act of kindness, you buy him his coffee—and he refuses to let the favor go unanswered. Suddenly, you’re locked in a daily battle of who pays first, and just when you think you’ve reached a stalemate, fate (and a very nosy barista) throws in a twist you never saw coming.

That Tricky Hickey

Status: Completed Read here

Anonymous asked: Very specific request: Yoongi and you are into each other except he doesn't make it obvious. You guys are complete opposites (you're extroverted and emo and he's introverted and into rap). Your bff is dating Jimin. You + maknae line + Yoongi go on vacation. Long story short Yoongi gets mad that they're flirting with you and he proceeds to get drunk. The boys have to wake you up to take Yoongi to his room and put him to bed because he keeps asking for you. Yoongi asks you to sleep in his bed with him and gives you some pjs. He then starts marking your neck and confesses to liking you and you put a subtle stop to it because he is drunk and rub his back so he can fall sleep (fluff ). The next morning he sees your neck and is mortified but you decide to be bold and straddle him (whatever smut you want to write) and yeah that's pretty much it. I've never made a request before but it's my take of the classic there's only one bed to share situation :) You're very talented and I love your writing!

Nerd & Nerdier

Status: Ongoing Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Summary: Moving in with two introverts should have been easy. Not when it’s Min Yoongi and Jeon Wonwoo, who decide they both want you. Unhinged, awkward, and nerdy as hell, they proceed to compete for your attention in the most unnecessarily dramatic fashion that culminates into a… rap battle.

Sweet & Spicy

Status: Completed

Read here

Summary: Turns out some cravings are just so hard to ignore. Genre: Fluffy fluff, idol!au, strangers to ?, Reader is ARMY

Yet to come

Banners by the uber talented @glossdebut

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winterzsurprise · 7 months ago

Text

Change My Mind [2]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 8.6k

I posted this a day later than the one on ao3 because I forgor :''DD

Seeing the support and comments from both website got me off my ass to fix the storyline, even made a lot of changes on the chapters I've had preserved.

this chapter got rewritten a LOT, and was longer than it initially was so I hope y'all don't mind long chapters.

<<<Prev || MASTERLIST || Next>>>

__________

There's been times where your heart has truly fluttered for a man throughout your lifetime. Too many times has it been because some of your bosses (read: Jimin) flirted with you but you have never felt anything remotely giddy for anyone else outside the group.

Except for the man now sitting in front of you, flashing you a dimpled smile after handing out his card with an ease you only see in your friends and male leads in dramas. An action more attractive than any kabaedon or flexed muscles.

He's attractive but you don't like like him.

Yoo Guwon came to you as a bashful giant, rubbing the back of his head whenever he’s flustered and a constant sheepish smile featuring his deep set of dimples indented on both cheeks. He’s charming and articulate with his words just like a lawyer would be. Everything about him reminds you of another gentle and clumsy giant probably hunched over his music equipment back in the BigHit building.

It’s only been a few hours but you surprisingly covered most of the basic grounds of first meeting conversations during the short time you drove around Han River in a two seated bicycle. From the meager questions of ‘what dreams do you have?’ to the more complex and deeper ‘If the world falls into ruin, will you burn my body when I die?’.

Too graphic for a first date but you wanted to test the waters and you concluded that he’s too perfect.

He knows the right words to say, the proper way to act and it makes you suspicious. Your mother has never recommended you to a good guy before, having a track record of ten shitty suitors who all ran their mouths about their mediocre achievements, and dared to ask you about your purity before ranting about how dirty you are for not saving yourself for your husband the moment they find out you're not a virgin anymore. Then all of a sudden, she led you to good boy Guwon.

And it makes your skin crawl.

What did that woman eat? Has your father fed her something bad this time? What is she planning? It’s scary how she has finally advocated for an actual nice guy.

After taking you to a museum you're sure Namjoon has visited once, he drove you both to the Han River to rent a double seated bike to drive around with before ending the night with a nice reservation somewhere in the Seocho district.

The place is as sophisticated as fine dining areas usually are. With an intimate lighting, marbled tabletops matched with soft cushioned seats and high ceilings to make space for modern glass chandeliers, the restaurant was no doubt expensive, the type you have to reserve a spot two months prior to be able to experience its greatness. The point was driven home when you saw the amount of zeros it cost for one can of soda.

You asked him how he managed to get a table and he went down the rabbit hole of the many advantages he got from successful cases, ranging from a free monthly subscription to fruit baskets to a free week-long voucher to a five star hotel somewhere in Busan.

Going back to the butterflies, while not as wild as it got when Hoseok possessively wrapped an arm thrown around your waist to pretend as your boyfriend to ward off a persistent suitor, they're there, albeit subtle.

Very subtle.

Maybe it's in the way he didn't think twice to hand out his card towards the waiter in the most suave way with the thick golden watch decorating his wrist, sleeves neatly folded up to reveal the thick cords of veins on his forearms with his hair strewn messily and a dimpled smile that made you react like that.

You ignore the voice comparing his uncannily similar traits to someone else.

Meeting Guwon wasn't like how the movies illustrated love at first sights. They talked of fireworks exploding in the background and hearing the sweet chimes of wedding bells upon eye contact but for him, it's just that. A meeting far more formal than you'd like. He has a lot of qualities that check your list of husband material traits yet instead of butterflies, you could only feel an echoing hollowness in your chest as you listen to him list out his future plans.

It felt like surrendering to the fate the divinities had weaved out for you which is being an untethered forced to love someone you don't even feel any spark with.

He's a nice man who’s offering a comfortable future and you're just a woman who wishes to live a lavish life at home while your husband wastes his years away in the office. You might be a hopeless romantic who wished for soulmates and the like but you're not blind to the opportunity Guwon offers you.

You haven't texted the gc anything during the date other than the selfie you took before you left for the date but there's been constant vibrations in your purse and it's no doubt the guys asking for updates but for a moment you wanted to try to focus on the man before you.

Not that it wasn't hard to try with Guwon anyways.

Whenever the man spoke of his achievements and hobbies with a humble approach, he never forgot to ask you for your opinion or input on the topic. You also noted how he has never cut you off and let you speak whenever you wanted, listening with an eagerness only your friends usually show. He asked relevant questions with a genuine curiosity, eager to know more about you.

So when he asked if you wanted to go on a second date that night, it came to no surprise for anyone when you accepted it albeit the heaviness in your heart.

It was funny how eagerly you searched for a husband you could bring to your parents' doorsteps but the moment someone with all the qualities you seeked came, it felt disappointing. Boring even.

But you can learn, this man is your ticket to living without working anymore.

It came to no one's surprise that your mother was overjoyed, she wasted no time calling you before you could even change to squeeze the memory of today out of you.

The shrill scream of victory she let out that night was unforgettable because finally, a suitor you actually liked. Your dad even congratulated her off-screen for her matchmaking achievements before telling you to bring Guwon home to meet them.

Logically, you’re aware you've won the love roulette—Guwon has it all, he checked every box on your list, yet it felt like defeat and it tasted foul, bitter on your tongue.

You couldn't tell them that it was you deciding to settle, that would break her heart.

Tapping the end call button felt like the dam breaking and all the water held onto for so long flowed out. You fall lifelessly on your bed with a heavy sigh. Taking a couple evening breaths, you finally opened the group chat with an overwhelming number of unread messages.

[Today, 08:49]

[08:49] Mimi: I'd run my bank dry to take you on dates if you'd dress so pretty like that, noona~

[08:49]Tete: We're really seeing this for free when the poor guy has to pay for it. #livingapriviledgedlife😁👍

[08:49] Hobi: Wow noona🤯

[08:50] Yoongs: 👍

[08:55] Tete: Wait, I don't think those shoes fit you, go back home and change it😁

[08:56] Jinnie: Hey, you're showing too much skin on the first date! Go back and change!

[08:57] Joonie: Ignore these haters noona, I hope you enjoy your day😊

[Today, 21:48]

[21:48] Jinnie: are you home yet? You haven't seen our messages in HOURS.

[21:48] Tete: NOONA DID YOU GET MURDERED?!😱

[21:50] Joonie: Let's be rational guys, don't jump to conclusions. The date might just be going great if she's busy enough to not check her phone😊.

[21:51] Mimi: doing great? don't scare me like that hyung😵‍💫

[21:51] Tete: BUT WHAT IF SHE GOT KIDNAPPED HYUNG????

[21:51] Hobi: please reply soon, we're worried🥲

Jungkook's absence from the conversation didn't come to you as a shock, the kid doesn't even reply to you for a week despite being one of the people who raised him. Nonetheless, you sat up from your bed to record a quick video of you giving them a thumbs up and turning the camera to show your room.

The latter was an assurance to Taehyung that no, you also didn't get kidnapped into someone else's house to be someone's housekeeper, and no, it wasn't a clone either.

The moment your message gets sent, the replies blow up your phone almost instantaneously.

[22:28] Mimi: noona you're alive!

[22:28] Joonie: How did the date go?😊

[22:28] Jinnie: how nice of you to remember to update us PEASANTS.

[22:28] Mimi: How was Guwon?

[22:29] Tete: I KNEW WE SHOULD'VE WENT WITH YOU ANYWAYS

[22:29] You: Shockingly, he's a pretty nice guy. Not too bad on the eyes, and pretty smart. I think you'd get along well with him, joon. He's a lawyer so he covered most of the expenses today😁

[22:29] You: Overall, it was great, we're gonna go on a second one. He's pretty cool.

Instantly, messages from the members, even Jungkook’s to your surprise, flooded your screen.

[22:30] Tete: Noona you've been cursed! We need to bring you to the nearest shaman to break it!!

[22:30] Mimi: don't joke with us noona

[22:30] Mimi: I just got goosebumps!

[22:30] Joonie: Congratulations are in order then? Will we be expecting him around you soon?

[22:31] Yoongs: I need to meet him, need to know if he's good enough

[22:31] Yoongs: men are trash, I need to see him for myself before I decide

[22:32] Yoongs: and you know what they say about lawyers, they LIE. I wouldn't trust him

[22:32] Jinnie: WE need to meet the man who managed to steal your heart! I want to talk to him😊

[22:32] Mimi: don't use that emoji again, hyung

[22:32] Hobi: SCARY JWANN😱

[22:32] Joonie: Let’s not threaten anyone please.

[22:32] Joonie: But I'm really happy for you 😁.

[22:33] Tete: Those periods really scares me hyung…

[22:33] Tete: Somehow, I don't think you mean it…

[22:33] Joonie: What makes you think that, tae?😁.

[22:33] Tete: 😰

[22:34] Ggukie: a few drinks will fix you up, noona😁

[22:34] Mimi: you'll invite me this time right?

[22:34] You: I don't know, you already used your mischief hours this week, I doubt Sejin would be so kind next time.

[22:34] Hobi: if he does that right now during practice, I also wouldn't be so kind to him😊

[22:34] Mimi: you are scaring me hyung…

[22:34] Hobi: good😊

[22:34] Tete: Hyung, are you just gonna ignore Jungkook leaving?!?!!?

The messages continued for a good five minutes, mostly consisting of holding Jimin back from leaving practice and him sending pictures of the infamous Hoseok death glare from across the room before your doorbell chime rang, making you shoot up straight.

A beat. Then it continues in three quick successions, the knocks almost in sing-song and sounded like two hands were used to produce the tune, giving you an inkling on who might be visiting you at this late hours of night.

Padding out of your room, the front door suddenly swings open without warning and you yelp. By the doorsteps stands the intruder, a tall man in a black coat with his face hidden by a mask and a cap. Your body would've frozen a thousand times over if you didn't know this stranger who's hugging two paper bags, one overflowing with snacks and the other a breeze away from tearing apart from the weight and water drenching the material of the bag.

"Hi noona!"

After today, seeing Jungkook felt like a cure, his presence alone repelling the heaviness in your shoulders and you ushered him inside and he wandered into your home with ease, approaching the coffee table to place down the shopping bags.

Suddenly you remembered what he had scheduled prior.

"You're putting me on Hoba’s punishment rotation, what are you doing here?"

He giggled. “We both know he won't, hyung loves you more than me.”

He falls on your couch with the ease of someone who has visited your space numerous times throughout the years, propping up his feet on the back support and folding his arms underneath his head before staring up at you, expectantly.

"Anyways, I brought us food and drinks, don't I deserve a little praise?"

Sometimes it's easy to forget how young Jungkook really is, forced to grow and act mature to blend in with his surroundings, you've always seen him stand with pride alongside his hyungs. Seeing him awaiting for your praise so eagerly like a pup fills your heart with awe.

"Yeah yeah, good job. Now move over, let me sit down."

You tapped his arm, motioning him to move over so you could sit next to him, something he obeyed without resistance, busying himself in removing the contents from the soiled paper bag instead.

“Couldn't you have put some effort into it? At least sound grateful.” He pouts. Placing down the cluster of beer cans, you turned to him and pinched his cheeks.

“Oh my dearest darling, thank you for saving this noona of yours. Such an amazing baby I have here.”

Despite being the one who asked for it, Jungkook only rolled his eyes with a barely held back grin as he slapped your hands away, making you laugh, and turned to the bag holding the snacks he bought. You didn't miss the redness dusting his cheeks or the cheeky grin that tugged his lips wide as he spilled the contents of the last bag onto the table.

There's a significant amount of sweets and snacks laid before you, as well as stacks of canned beers and you turned to him with furrowed brows.

"Wouldn't this ruin your diet?"

He waved you off with a huff. "I work out enough to eat all of these in one sitting."

Instantly, your mind brings you back to white walls and gray furniture, faced with manager Sejin who warned you about interfering with the idols' diet at the start of your career. If it wasn't for Bang PD waving off their concerns, saying they needed to be rewarded for their hard work anyways, you would've been long booted out of the company.

It's a matter long settled yet it remains to weigh heavily in your head.

Seeing the hesitation in your eyes, Jungkook continues.

"I can show you proof of my efforts,"

He then reached down to the fabric of his shirt tucked into his jeans and tugged it up, flashing you the tightly corded muscles in forming on his abdomen and the thin happy trail you often see when patting his sweat down during concerts and you hastily pulled it back down with a yelp, cheeks growing hot while he laughed.

As he throws his head back in his mirth, you couldn't help but notice the way adulthood has taken away the fullness of his cheeks and has sharpened his features. A far cry from the sensitive young boy who cried his eyes out every time his hyungs got hurt.

There was no denying that Jungkook had grown without you noticing and it makes your chest swell with pride knowing he's been raised well by the others, in extension, although not so much, you as well.

"Don't worry so much about me, noona. I can handle the consequences now, you leave the reprimanding to me."

Under the warm overhead light of your living room, even with the exaggerated puff of his chest and his nose turnt up high, Jungkook's shoulder had never looked sturdier, reliable, in your eyes. You smiled, reaching to pinch both his cheeks making him grin wider than he already was.

"Look at you acting so cool, when did you grow so much?"

He rolled his eyes, pulling your hands away from his cheeks and entangling it with his. “I've always been cool, you just don't pay attention to me, noona.”

Before you could reply, he's already moved to reach for the beverages on the coffee table, popping two of them open and handing you one can, immediately you take a swig.

The beer fizzled in your tongue and left a trail of burns down your throat. The sensation is refreshing nonetheless and you place it down next to him before picking up the large bags of chips and standing up.

"I'll go put these in a bowl, go put something on the tv."

"Can I play anime?"

You waved at him dismissively, unable to find it in yourself to say no to him as you head towards your kitchen to transfer the junk into a bowl when a shrill tune from your bedroom cuts through the air, someone was calling you. You look over to Jungkook, scrolling through his phone, no doubt looking for a movie online.

"Gguk, can you pick up the call for me? My hands are busy right now."

There's a shuffle of feet behind you and in a moment, your phone quietens down. Finished with filling one bowl, you turn to find Jungkook leaving your room with a deep look and your phone in hand. His jaw set tight as he stood there with furrowed brows, eyes lit with irritation.

Looking at his reaction, you asked about your mysterious caller.

"Who was it?"

When he turned to you, the tick in his jaw dispersed. All of a sudden, he's smiling at you with mischief twinkling in his eyes, the change giving you a whiplash.

"It was the others, didn’t answer their calls cause I want you for myself tonight, noona."

(Later on, you'd find yourself staring at the many unread messages and two missed calls from Guwon, wondering in your drunken state if you've muted your phone at some point earlier.)

Hearing it from his lips now, your body locks, heart stuttering in your chest and butterflies exploding in your stomach, spreading a tingly feeling throughout your body and you laugh.

"Where did you hear that line from, brat? You just activated my fight or flight!"

"Taehyung says that and gets thanked but when I do it, I'm punished?" He pouts, stomping as he approaches the island counters and crossing his arms on the marble surface.

It reminded you of a bunny you saw from a video on the internet, angrily thumping their feet at their owner when it was being purposely ignored.

“In his defense, he does it while he’s acting like my crazy ‘exes’ and saves me from dates.”

“That’s just favoritism! I saved you once from a date!”

You threw him a deadpan stare. "Throwing me over your shoulders and kidnapping me isn’t the same as Tae and Jimin acting crazy enough to make the other guy uncomfortable to save me.”

Hoseok had your favorite troublemakers kneeled on the floor with both their hands up and facing the wall at the time, punishing them for being an hour late to their practice. He had called you in, asking if they had been accompanying you during —they weren’t.

Long story short, you didn't risk sharing Hoseok’s wrath with the two and took Jungkook instead, a decision you quickly regretted later on in the night when instead of approaching to act like one of your exes when you gave him a signal, he hoisted you up onto his shoulder and ran away while your date only watched in terror.

“Now that’s blatant favoritism! I didn’t kidnap you, we ran away together into the sunset! It was romantic!"

"Not for the other guy, no! He was shitting bricks when he called my mom. She got me squatting the entire afternoon when we met again."

Mentioning it alone made phantom pains throb in your knees and thighs, you shivered. If torture wasn't a socially unacceptable and punishable offense in the modern world, you were sure your mother would have stripped you down to your underwear and made you squat under the sun in front of your family house instead.

The absolute fury she unleashed on you that day is enough proof that she would've done it with no hesitation if it was lawfully appropriate.

"That's too much for a failed date."

"No reason to dwell on it. Main point is, don't take notes from dramas anymore."

With a last roll of his eye, Jungkook then picked up the bowls and brought them to the coffee table following you who had returned to your seat ahead of him. Once the two of you are situated back on the couch, he navigates through the streaming app for an interesting title before eventually settling on the romance anime he claimed to have heard amazing reviews about.

Without hesitation, Jungkook navigates himself into a familiar between your legs and leaned back on your chest, head finding his rightful space under your chin with a precision gained from doing so for years.

It goes without saying that Bangtan is affectionate. With the pressure they had during their rise to fame, it wasn't shocking that they comfortably seeked each other's comfort and spared no skinship. As one of the only staff within constant exposure that's close to their age, you too became one of their pillars of serenity.

It was the reason you had crushes on everyone at least twice during your time as their make-up artist, not that any of the boys knew nor does it matter.

Stability and work takes precedence over something as shaky as love.

There's only so much comfort another man can offer, your mother says from years before.

Jungkook more than anyone else in the group.

As a boy who sacrificed his childhood and time with his parents to pursue his dream, you felt more inclined to watch over him than the others who were adults by the time you joined. You were there for his first heartbreak, his first drink, his high school graduation; the point is, you were there and you held him every time he struggled with problems—mostly girl problems—he's too shy to seek his hyungs for.

But now with his growth spurt, cuddling up to you like he used to when he was younger with his gangly legs awkwardly hanging from the couch, carelessly leaning his head in between the mounds of your breast while his large hand mindlessly drew circles on your knee, you found yourself wondering about the appropriateness of it all.

A man and a woman alone in a room at night in close proximity, body leaning against each other. Society would argue they wouldn’t end the night as friends anymore after the encounter.

You paused mid-drink and grimaced.

It must be the beer talking.

"Noona."

"Yeah?"

"Wrap your arms around me, it's cold."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "It's not though? I always keep my house warm."

He let out an exasperated groan before reaching behind to grab your arm and roughly slinging it on his shoulders.

As time continued its cycle and episodes started to fly across the screen, the pile of opened beer cans on the table expanded. You really tried to focus on the movie but the feeling of his fingers tracing stars on your bare thigh left you oddly bothered. Jungkook has shifted his position higher at some point during the movie, his body now turned sideways, successfully squeezing himself into the small space between you and the back of the couch, legs entangling itself with yours while an arm is thrown across your body.

This position puts his nose closer to your ears and it makes you shiver. The feel of his hot breath fanning across your skin has given you more goosebumps in under an hour more than you've had throughout your life.

Even drunk, you could feel the building tension thickening around you and the will to tell him to off ebbs away with every caress of his fingers.

Gone were the innocent traces of stars and hearts on your thigh, his hand now grabbed onto your waist almost possessively, thumb rolling slow circles on your bare stomach; the motion conjuring the most unholiest of thoughts known to mankind.

When the credits started rolling, you knew you had to draw the line before you lost yourself to intoxicated thoughts and end the night with regrets.

"Time for you to go home now, your hyungs must be looking for you."

You tried prying his hand from your waist so you could reach for your phone on the table only for him to tighten around you, stopping you from moving away. He groaned, head nuzzling closer into your neck and his lips grazed your skin.

Instantly, electric jolts shoot through your body.

"Jungkook, I need to get my phone and tell someone to fetch you from here."

"Can't I just stay the night? I'm too comfortable right now…"

The gruff in his voice and the sensation of his lips moving on your skin has your stomach fluttering and you're too drunk to address the growing heat in your abdomen but thanked the sense of professionalism seeping through the fogs of your intoxicated mind.

Managing to pry him off, you reached for your phone and opened up SMS to tell Jin to pick their youngest up.

[01:21] You: Jwannn

[01:21] You: can you pick up your kid from my house? He's drunk and stinkyyy

[01:23] Jinnie: your knight in shining armor is on the way!

“Just let me stay the nighttt,” he whined into your skin.

"I don't have any more spare beds other than this couch for you to sleep in, Gguk. I turned the other room into a closet, remember?"

"I can just sleep with you on the bed, we used to do that, didn't we?"

He attempted to reach around you again but you pushed his limbs away once more before slapping his arm.

You tried not noticing how thicker and harder the muscles felt, you really did.

"But it's different now, Gguk. Come on, go wash up and drink water, I've already told someo—"

The moment you rose to stand, his arms shot around your waist in record speed and pulled you flush to his front, nuzzling his nose on the back of your neck before he sighed. When the first hot exhale hits your skin, you flinch away but the limbs wounded tightly around your middle restrict you from moving.

You try to ignore the heat simmering under your skin but it was hard when you felt the press of his plush lips on your nape as he leans closer into your skin.

“You always smell so nice, noona.” He whispered breathily, the sensation of his moving mouth sending shivers down your spine and you shivered.

“I-I can give you my lotion brand later, let me go so I can get it.”

“But I'm comfortable here…”

Mustering every strength left in your body, you manage to pull an arm out of the death grip he had on your body and slapped his hand. Jungkook easily ignores it.

“Come on Gguk, let me out now. This isn't appropriate.”

"How is it different now?"

The alcohol intoxicating your system loosened your grip on your inhibitions and your lips regrettably moved faster than your brain.

"You're a man now, Gguk. Honestly, we shouldn't be even doing this right now. It's inappropriate."

You try to stand once more, managing to pry him from your waist and standing up before his arms hooked around you once more and tugging you back down, this time on his lap as he burrows his head onto your back.

"Gguk?"

"Yo-you see me as a man, noona?"

As a child your mother has taught you how words could heavily influence and drastically change a situation, now as an adult, you've mastered the art of speech. But as you sit still on his thighs, body warm and inhibitions blurred by the alcohol, your loose lips have led you back to the very thing you try to avoid.

"It's hard not to think so when you've grown up this much."

In a flash, Jungkook is now hovering over your face as he places you back down on the couch, his nose a hair's width from touching yours and his hands planted on each side of your head.

There's a feral hunger swimming in his eyes as it stared into yours, desperate and intense before it fell to the plush of your parted lips and his gaze darkens. All of a sudden, you're a prey pinned down by an apex predator who's ready to devour you at any given moment.

Fire alarms blared in your mind and you regained control over your senses.

“Jungkook.”

"Noona."

You tried wriggling out of his grasp but it was no use, he's stronger. "Get off of me, kid."

“How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not a kid anymore?”

“I'm not hearing anything out when you're acting like this, Gguk.”

He scoffed. “I just want to sleep here, in the same bed, nothing else is gonna happen. Why is it such a bad thing?”

“It's different now, Gguk. Come on, let me go.”

“How is it so different? You and Jimin hyung cuddle sometimes, I've seen you fall asleep next to Hobi hyung once, why is it different with me?”

“It's different because we're both drunk and things could happen.”

“I wouldn't mind it.” Jungkook responds with a cheeky smile. His grip on one of your wrist loosened enough that you were able to hit his arm and he giggled in response.

“But I do. It wouldn't be fair.”

Even something as small as letting one member stay at your home without the others can be the loudest announcement for the rest of the group. All those times you've rejected your friends, with reasons like ‘I don’t want to risk everything’, and ‘I don't want to hurt the others’, to turn back around to accept their youngest would be hypocritical of you.

He scoffs. "You tell us about all your stupid dates, don't you think it's more unfair for us?”

A familiar weight grows in your chest. Guilt tasted like rust on your tongue and dug into your heart with a ribbed knife. Your own late night thoughts manifesting before you and you pushed him away.

After everything, you were all friends, you trusted them more than you do with your other circle. There's not a secret left undiscussed between the eight of you so it was no surprise that you had indulged them with the details of your quest for a husband. Nobody ever raised any complaints with you sharing your days so you never thought twice about it.

It's been five years since Jin had confessed, three for Taehyung. Their eldest had confessed for the sake of him finally being able to move on after your rejection and with how he acted after, you had believed him. It was different for Taehyung who had continued to act like normal after his confession, neither dejected nor did he show signs of letting go but he did introduce a date to your group once, a year later, so you had assumed the same.

Were you wrong after all?

“Jungkook, we're drunk. Let’s talk about this tom—”

“I've never been more sober in my life than I am right now, noona.”

You didn't respond, couldn't reply.

What were you supposed to even say?

Jungkook usually obeyed you and his hyungs without hesitation, happily offering his aid whenever he could. He's the type of friend who's run himself dry just to fetch you a cup of water from the other side of the world but now as he hovers over you, he became a whole new person.

Greed has always been an irritating parasite that eats away at a person's morals but somehow in your drunken mind, you thought it looked so good on him. It fits him and his generous character the way one light clothing molds well with the dark fabrics. His familiar scent of vanilla and coconut clouded your senses, calming your panicking mind into a hush, leaving nothing but the thoughts of how his lips tasted and wondering if he’s as sweet as he smelled.

He let out a shaky exhale from through his mouth as he watched your parted lips with a rapt attention as if hypnotized by the way they subtly trembled with every breath that passed through.

In the pregnant silence of your room, his voice cuts through like a knife.

“Can I kiss you?”

He whispers against your lips, voice breaking in the middle from the weight of his request, honeyed and pleading, as if your kiss holds the answer to the problems of the world and holds the power to break him.

His hand travels up to cup your cheek oh so carefully like you're fragile china yet you feel yourself shatter under his touch.

You are losing grasp on your sober thoughts as lust starts to cloud your already compromised judgment, his request far too tempting to ignore.

Maybe a kiss wouldn’t hurt.

But wouldn’t it be unfair for the others who have expressed their romantic intentions to you since years ago?

It was a last ditch effort to reason with your mind and your body froze from the cold wave of realization. In the short time after his question, you recall the confessions you turned down to not ruin the relationship Bangtan has established for themselves and the bitter taste it left on your tongue.

“Jungkook… we can’t.”

Watching his expression contort into confused hurt almost made you want to take your words back, but your mind takes you to memories of apologetic and understanding smiles you’ve received throughout the years and the aches from those moments resurfaces, squeezing your heart in a tight grip.

“I-I’m sorry I can’t control my feelings, I just wanted to tell you about it… Thought that maybe after this, I could move on.” An apologetic voice whispers, the memory of premature confessions in the middle of a cleanup resurfacing.

“I can’t—I can’t do it to them, it’d be unfair.”

You pushed him back and he relented, letting himself be sat back onto the other side of the couch defeatedly. Despite it, his tight grip on your waist remained, pulling you flush to him and burying his face in your chest as if trying to hear the lie in your words through the beatings of your heart.

“I’m also seeing Guwon now.”

“Then don’t let me meet him. I-I don’t know if I can take it.”

It was heart wrenching and at the same time, left an uncomfortable twist in your stomach. Jungkook never had to beg since you first met him, everything he could ever want was given to him by you and his hyungs without hesitation. Hearing him plead for you to never bring Guwon around if fate had actually paired you both, it was a different kind of pain.

It felt like thorns growing and rooting its stems of pointy ends into the deepest parts of your heart. You hated this, but you don’t want to hurt any of your boys by accepting one.

Relief comes in the form of Taehyung when he busted into your apartment while Jungkook has excused himself to your bathroom to sober up just a moment before. Seokjin trails behind him, calmer than the younger man who declared his arrival with a deep voice and a loud bang of the door. You immediately thought of the elderly couple and the new family of three living next to you and internally facepalmed.

“Noona! We’ve come to take Jungkook away!”

Kim Seokjin’s face has never been more handsome when he closed the door behind him, and you verbalized your thought, leading his ears to glow red in embarrassment.

“Am I only handsome to you when I’m closing the doors?! This face that people fawn over all over the world?!”

“It’s your true calling, door guy.”

“Oh shut it hyung, you’re making my head hurt.” Jungkook mutters as he reentered the living room, looking far better than when he left.

The tension was palpable, the effect of a rejected profession still raw and thick in the small joined space of the living room and kitchen and you caught Jin's eyes as the two youngest bickered, there’s a knowing look passed between you, an unsaid ‘let’s talk later’ hanging in the air.

“Hey, just because you got to escape Hoba’s practice without scratch doesn't mean you're hot shit, show me some respect!”

Seokjin scolds, accompanied by a playful kick to their youngest’s butt. Immediately the stuffy air dissipates and Jungkook responds in kind; by kicking him in the shin, hard enough to launch Seokjin into another lengthy nag.

It was a quick retrieval after his rant. Jungkook lets himself be towed out of your apartment by an oddly enthusiastic Taehyung who's going on about a new game trailer he saw online while Jin has offered to be left behind to clean up the mess. It was no doubt obvious, the familiar awkwardness and tenseness brought by a rejected confession lingered in the air when they arrived, it only took him one look at you and he already knew.

The moment the door slams shut behind the boys, he immediately began:

“Did he admit it?”

His voice was soft yet it rang loudly in the pindrop silence of your living room. The sigh he let out echoed more when you nodded.

“I told him to not do it, you know? But you know how stubborn he gets.”

You didn’t reply. You simply move, walking to the trash bin to put the empty beer cans in and Jin follows close with the bowls stacked on top of each other to place in the sink. It was a brief moment of reprieve. He let the moment from earlier simmer in your stomach, let the smoke from it fill your lungs and weigh your heart till you burst.

Out of the seven boys, you've always turned to either him or Yoongi as they're older than you, so it came to nobody's shock when you break and told him.

“It just never gets better, I always feel guilty even if I didn’t choose. I’m just lucky I didn’t have to suffer through seven of these, I don’t think I could take it and just quit.”

It was a thought you’ve entertained when Taehyung came to you with his heart in his hand, giving it to you carelessly despite knowing how you’ve handled the other confessions. He was all dopey smiles and flushed cheeks, it continued even when you’ve pushed his heart back to him with an apologetic look.

Seeing the happy creases in his eyes iron out despite the huge boxy smile continuing to play on his lips, the existing pressuring guilt reawakened. Taehyung’s heart that gleamed and glowed gold, vulnerable for you to take and use from where it settled in the middle of his offering palms. You could’ve taken advantage of it all as they were rising in fame, when they were facing discrimination from the other companies and had found comfort in you but you didn’t.

Even with the attraction you've felt for them, you were nothing but a makeup artist to the company. Another asset to deploy and replace if it got annoying to handle. You couldn't risk your career on uncertainties, this is your dream job.

You loved them all equally and held them in the same regards as the others, they’re your best friends, chosen soul companions even without the marks to solidify it.

They loved you and you loved them all but you wouldn't bet your life on an uncertain future.

“You should give us more credit, you know?”

He says from the kitchen sink, the sound of water slowing into a halt. Seokjin didn’t move for a while. When he did, it was to place down the plates, washing his hands before turning around to face you.

“We’re grown adults now, we can handle rejection so don’t feel too bad about it. You can choose and we’d even help you keep it a secret from everyone besides us eight.”

It was genuine. Even in the haze of your intoxication, those words felt like a cool balm for your aching heart. While Namjoon’s words were cited research, formal and factual and Yoongi’s were calming droughts to ease the discomfort of sadness brought by gloomy thoughts, Seokjin speaks from the heart, true and unbiased but says it with a gentleness and care.

Guilt sets like a boulder on your heart. Being able to feel, to experience such a privilege when all you've done is break his heart since your hunt for a husband, the weight in your chest multiplied and tears sprung from your eyes.

You wanted them but you couldn't risk your dream job, couldn't risk a friendship as precious as theirs for kisses and hugs that eventually has its ends.

You didn’t even notice it when he crossed the distance between you both and pulled you plush to his chest but you recognized the familiar sensation of plush lips pressing against your forehead.

If it lingered a few seconds past what's platonically allowed, you didn’t mention it.

Seokjin’s muted scent of freshly baked cakes brought silence to the rampaging waves of thoughts in your mind and if you pressed your nose flush to his chest to bury yourself in his fragrance, he didn’t say anything, bringing one hand behind your head protectively.

“I'm sorry to put you through this pain, Jinnie. I-I didn’t know.”

“I knew you didn’t know but I'll be fine... eventually.” He breathes out before leaning down to bury himself into the nest of your hair. "As long as you're happy, then I am too."

It was heavy, being loved and held so preciously even after you’ve turned him down, it felt cruel, sadistic even. But like the selfish woman you are, you accepted it. Soaked in his affections greedily.

“You know, he asked me to never show Guwon around you guys.”

He sighed. “I knew he would.”

“Do you want that as well?

Silence followed but you heard his answer loud and clear.

The second date happened after the first leg of the tour in Seoul.

Although planned suddenly, you appreciated the downtime after being lost in the haze of rushed outfit changes, reapplying makeup, and patting sweat from foreheads. If anything, you were thankful you could loosen up after earlier. The awkward tension didn’t go amiss, it only took Namjoon and Yoongi one look between you and Jungkook before taking charge on how the night progresses.

Yoongi didn't waste any time waving you over to ask for help for his makeup, even when he was already being prepped by one of your older colleagues, Ji hae. Thankfully, the woman lets you take over, saying she wanted a snack anyways.

The man didn't bother asking you what happened and settled comfortably in his chair but not before offering you the snack he bought earlier and was laying neglected on his lap. Yoongi asked about Guwon in a hushed voice, because while you were living in a reverse harem with most of his brothers, he was genuinely curious about your boyfriend-to-be.

Maybe it was the fact he has never admitted his affections for you that made it comfortable to discuss topics you could never talk about with the others with him, but you let your tongue a little loose.

And he listened.

Yoongi has always been a man of action not words, his love language has always been opening water bottles, blankets appearing from nowhere when you're passed out on their couch, and listening attentively. Despite what the world says about his nonchalance and silence, in your eyes, he's the sweetest guy on the roster—not that you'd tell Jimin that of course, he'd riot if he were to find out.

By the end of the concert, Guwon asks you on an impromptu date. A simple late night walk on a market nearby because there's apparently a food fair, and as usual, the expenses are on him. Hungry with a principle of never turning down free food, of course you accepted.

Though you had a long time deciding whether to go or not with Jungkook’s confession still fresh.

Minutes later, he's waiting for you by the exit. The scene of him leaning on his Mercedes, waiting for you to reach him at the bottom of the stairs looks like it was pulled out of a kdrama.

Oddly enough, they didn’t question your lack of updates in the group chat but Jimin reached out later on and you suspect he told everyone your whereabouts instead, hopefully minus the date part to spare the others (read: Jungkook) from heartbreak.

The fair looked like a mirage of a paradise in the night hidden away in a small gently-lit up alley. The path was lightened up with gentle lanterns hung above you, the warm colors setting a more intimate scene. It wasn’t as luxurious as dinner from yesterday or as calming as the bike ride around the Han river but you appreciated it nonetheless.

You’re ready to drop dead but you pushed through, you wanted this relationship to work. Because then, maybe the monsters—your mother and her wide selection of personalities as well as aunties, her friends, trying to refer you to their horrible sons—haunting you from under your bed will finally leave you alone.

It was cruel that you’re using someone else to erase the memory of being professed to by one of your best friends.

Guwon was happy enough to take charge the whole date, leading you from food stall after food stall, ordering whatever your eyes lingered at which is half of what the fair offers. He understands your lack of responses as it is, tired from work, and talked enough for the both of you. Which you are grateful for.

He talked about his job and what happened that day, willingly telling you about the story of how he and his co-workers clicked back in College, never to part till now in the field they wanted. He spoke of his dreams, how he envisioned his dream home by the province surrounded by nature and the cat named Nabi waiting for him at home.

There's nothing more blatant of a signal than the last part, whether you accept it or not depends on you.

Normally, you would've frowned at the thought, immediately thinking of running away but as the night deepens and stalls start to close, the idea grows more and more tempting despite the logical voice in your head disagreeing. Seeking a distraction and possibly leading on a kind man is cruel, both to him and you.

But at the end of the day, it’s just an escape from the reality you're stuck in, a temporary answer to a long time problem.

How harmful can it be?

People had hookups before, you’ve had hookups before your mother has started a hunt for your husband this year so what are you so reluctant for?

If this man is to be your husband, you should check your physical compatibility right?

You shivered. God, you sounded like one of those shitty guys you’ve dated before.

"Hey, the stalls just closed. Are you fine with me driving you back to your house?"

His voice cuts through your deep thoughts and you turn to him. Even in the dimly lit corner of the alley, Guwon looked attractive as ever with his dimpled smile and laid back attitude, his soft eyes gleaming under the lanterns, affections overflowing from his gaze and you. shuddered from its weight.

Staring at the man, you wondered if you'd ever fall in love with him as he seemed right now.

Soon enough, you both arrive in front of your apartment building. However, not every plan goes through as you thought it'd go and you find two familiar figures rushing down to meet you.

Taehyung didn't hesitate to run up to you with open arms and a wide smile. He didn't even care that you both almost toppled over if it wasn't for Guwon hand supporting you from the back.

"Wh-why are you two here? Shouldn't you guys be resting?"

Jimin shrugged but you caught the mischievous glint in his eyes as a small smile tugs his lips. "Hyung got so worried and wanted us to make sure you got home safely."

"Even a thumbs up would be great but you ignored every text and call! Jin hyung panicked and sent us out, if you didn't come home, he would've had a huge manhunt for you." Taehyung chimed in, pulling away but keeping his hands on your shoulders as he stared deep into your eyes, as if trying to hypnotize you into believing them.

Jimin snickered. “Yoongi hyung was an hour away from declaring you missing so the good dongsaengs we are, we decided to camp outside your apartment.”

You would've accepted his explanation, it was logically sound yet the dark glint of mischief and something else in his eyes as his gaze bounced from you to Guwon told you a different story.

They've always had to interrupt your dates when it becomes sour but this was the first time they've confronted a potential partner outside the intentions of ruining a date because you wanted it to suck.

This was them laying their claim over their own, a silent statement. A declaration you try not to think so much about, fearing you'd dig yourself deep and fall to your death.

“These must be one of your kids?” Guwon asks from behind, reminding you of his presence and you turn to him with an apologetic look.

“Yeah, Taehyung and Jimin. I practically raised them.”

Jimin scoffs and your head snapped to him, widening your eyes in warning to which he ignored. “Just because you’re a year older, doesn’t mean you could say you raised us you know?”

“See what I deal with everyday?”

Guwon laughs lightheartedly before patting your head to get your attention. “Since your kids are here to protect you, I should get going now.”

“Drive safely.”

“See you soon?”

“Definitely.”

Then he placed a haste kiss on the edge of your lips, catching you off guard and you froze. Guwon was already in his car by the time you realized what happened and turned to chastise him. You couldn't even knock on the passenger window when the arms coiled around your shoulders tightened and tugged you close.

Letting Guwon kiss you in front of one of the men who confessed to you once was the first mistake, second was looking up at Taehyung whose hug is starting to hurt.

Gone were the usual giddiness and child-like enthusiasm that would pour from his eyes. It was replaced by a colder glare, almost blank and emotionless as it narrowed behind you and jaw locked tight. There was something primal in the way his hand behind your head was pushing you closer to him as if he was hounding over his game from another predator.

Goosebumps prickled your skin awake.

If butterflies exploded in your stomach and ignited a molten heat in your abdomen at that very moment, it's a secret you’d take to your grave.

“Tae?”

“Noona, I think we should head inside. It's getting cold.” Jimin’s sweet voice sounded forced and you resisted the urge to look at him.

While their reaction to being challenged is obvious, you couldn't, for the life of you, figure out why he should feel like that when he’s been seeing other people since his confession. From your past dates where he attended as one of your escape plans, he’s never expressed such an intense show of displeasure so you thought his fleeting crush had passed.

Until tonight.

When Taehyung pulled away, the traces of his hostility were gone and you had to double take at how vastly different he's appearing now. He has his lower lip pushed out into a pout, eyes wide with mirth as he reaches up to cup your cheeks, his warm palms heating your cold-nipped skin.

“Aigoo, you're so cold noona. Let's go in and binge that foreign show you've been following.”

With hands now intertwined, he leads you inside the building where Jimin was already standing inside and was holding the door open for you both. You were being tugged into your own home yet you couldn’t help but feel tense as Taehyung and Jimin welcomed you back in with the same dark look you saw earlier.

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