#genre: billionaires & ceos

[ikeuverse]

OPPOSITES — p.jongseong

PAIRING: ceo!jay x fem!reader GENRES: fluff, smut, a little angst WC: 12.1k+

WARNINGS: swearing, drinking, slightly drunk, a brief argument. kissing, foreplay, (almost) dry sex. lmk if i've forgotten anything.

SYNOPSIS: jay was the most serious ceo anyone could meet and remember, but not when you were around. while he had a difficult smile, you captivated anyone with your cheerful and relaxed manner. one night, he decided to take you into his world, the business dinner, but you didn't know if it was a good idea.

NOTES: a little treat i wrote for my little sweetheart @bluej4ym <3 to thank you for all your care and for always being here for me. you deserve more stories (which i'll write later, spoiler yeah) and what's more, you deserve only good things bc you're like that, full of good things. thanks for your friendship, i love you very much. and i hope you enjoy the story as much as i do.

masterlist

Working in a multinational company has two aspects that you can't avoid. First was the growth of shares and partners, dealing with people at the top, and seeing the numbers rise as you closed really important deals. Secondly, there was the gossip that went around the corridors of the company, even more so if you were the CEO.

Jongseong could boast of having a major multinational, being a billionaire, and having shares rising by the second. He took the trouble to congratulate all the employees for their hard work and dedication while they were in that building, giving their all so that the numbers would rise even higher. But Jongseong couldn't control what they said here and there, especially about him.

Not that it was something he needed to care about, like hearing that he was a really serious and scary boss… Well, he could take that title with ease. Jongseong wasn't one for easy smiles and small talk, saying only what was necessary to his employees and being strictly professional and polite. Greeting passers-by regardless of whether they were having a good day or not. But his facade was cold and methodical, as you'd usually hear.

What Jongseong didn't like to deal with was the gossip that arose after he met you. Introducing you as a romantic partner was something he didn't want publicly at the beginning of the relationship, private life being exclusively for the two of you. As well as keeping you out of the eyes of employees he knew would be the talk of the town, Jongseong also liked to have all the time in the world for you. But the town was too small, he had thought when he heard one of the employees say, the next day when he met the two of you in a restaurant.

“The boss is dating a very beautiful woman” he'd boast, having good taste, having heard how beautiful you were and the compliments the young man made on your appearance, although he was a little annoyed that he'd looked at you so much to find out about your physical characteristics.

“Does he really have a heart? I mean, how is he supposed to treat this girl when he's so serious all the time?” well, Jongseong wasn't expecting that comment.

That's what had been hammering at him for so long, not denying any gossip that involved you and him specifically. Since your employees knew, there was no hiding it. This led him to take the liberty of asking you to come to the company a few days a week. Walking hand in hand with you down the corridors or holding your shoulder to guide you, or with his hand on your waist talking about how the evening would go at home and what he was planning for the two of you to have for dinner.

He didn't need any kind of validation from anyone, but he also didn't know how to explain how annoyed he was at the thought of people thinking he didn't pay enough attention to you. Just like you, the woman who stole his heart just by the simple way she treated him. You were unlike anyone he had ever met, and Jongseong would spend hours talking about you and how much you meant to him if it were possible. He would replace the weekly stock meeting just to talk about you.

“Mr. Park?” the voice interrupted him slightly as he rambled on about you and how he felt about you. His eyes left the computer that was open on the stock spreadsheets and quickly went to the door. Jongseong's secretary stared at him with a small smile without showing her teeth, politely and discreetly “I have some papers for you to sign, can I take them?”

“Of course, come in” he settled into his chair, waiting for the secretary to walk towards him and place the papers on the table. Jongseong rolled his eyes at the small mountain of sheets she had placed there and his eyes quickly went to the corner of the desk. A small picture frame was turned towards him, without anyone being able to make out what was there. A photo of you. The first picture he took on the analog camera you had at home. Jongseong hadn't tinkered with these things for a long time, ever since his camera had broken and, with the hustle and bustle of life and work, he'd never thought to fix it. But you had one, and it was in perfect condition. Capturing it was no effort when you were graceful to the extreme and your beauty had been captured without any problem.

He smiled so openly at the photo that he didn't notice that the secretary was still standing in front of his desk. Her gaze followed where he was looking and, curiously, she tried not to bend down to notice the photo, although she had a slight notion that it might be a picture of him or someone he loved very much.

“Do you need anything else, Mr. Park?” she asked shyly, and he noticed the astonishment on her face when he connected the dots… Jongseong had smiled openly for the first time in front of someone other than you or his parents.

“No…” he huffed, picking up one of the sheets from the pile of papers and looking at the written lines to try and disguise how fervently his cheeks were burning “You can go now, miss. Thank you.”

Just as she entered, greeting Jongseong on her way out, the door closed and left the man alone in the room again. It wasn't a big deal to smile like that in front of someone else, but he found it strange and felt that he had let his guard down for an employee he only had a professional relationship with. Jongseong thought he only had to show that side to everyone he worked with, he had no reason to be affectionate like that.

Apart from you, the only person who broke this kind of protocol was someone he knew would be coming into his office in the next few minutes. And without thinking to wait for a call or a message, or even a sign that he was coming in, the door was flung open.

The playful smile on Jaeyun's lips indicated that he had heard something in the corridors of the company.

“What's up, Mr. wide smile?” he hummed after closing the door, his hands in the pockets of his dress pants as he walked slowly over to Jongseong's desk.

“Are they commenting yet?” he snorted, throwing the paper on the table and stretching back in his chair.

“She said you have a beautiful smile” Jaeyun bit his lower lip to stop himself from laughing at his best friend's pained expression as he walked over to the table and sat down in the armchair right in front of his best friend and company owner “I think you should smile more, you know?”

“And I think you should fuck off—”

“Hey, is that how you talk to the vice president? How disrespectful” the other pretended to be offended, his posture mimicking Jongseong's in the chair, throwing all his weight on the back of the armchair while sighing heavily.

Sim Jaeyun had been Jongseong's best friend for as long as he could remember. Remembering Jaeyun running around at company parties when neither of them knew how to add two and two together. He had a tooth missing when he greeted Jongseong for the first time and asked him to play in the middle of a gigantic crystal fountain in a particularly large hall. When Jongseong and Jaeyun broke the statue and fell into the fountain, getting wet from head to toe, it was there that he knew for sure that this boy would be his best friend.

That's why he had asked him to be vice-president of the company because there was no one better than Jaeyun to help him with his business. He had always been by Jongseong's side and seen him through all the good and bad times, where Jongseong wasn't ashamed to be vulnerable around Jaeyun, let alone show the side of him that almost no one knew about.

That's why it was impossible to remain serious around his best friend, even in the workplace. Jongseong didn't like being in the same environment as Jaeyun for too long, especially in meetings, because he knew that at some point his best friend would say something that would make him crack up and laugh at the same time. That was one of the reasons why the two of them hardly had any meetings together, even if Jaeyun did manage to get them together once in a while to talk to some employees.

“Do you know what I was thinking?” Jaeyun asked.

“And you were thinking?” the other joked, receiving Jaeyun's middle finger affectionately and a grimace soon after, making him laugh jokingly.

“We have less than a week until the Swedish partner's welcome dinner” he sighed happily. Jaeyun liked dinners because the buffet was always very well served and he knew that someone always remembered to put out the appetizers he liked. Good champagne and he would judge people's clothes along with you because he knew Jongseong would take it. Jaeyun was sure of it, he made friends with you so easily that it was like a perfect fit that you had come into his best friend's life. Because Jongseong would never say anything about anyone else, even though she was completely underdressed. But Jaeyun knew that you would drop a comment and laugh at something he said because you and he were Jongseong's karma. In a good way.

“And what does that mean? We're going together as a couple again?” it was Jongseong's turn to ask, making his best friend roll his eyes.

“First of all— Ew” he pretended to shudder with disgust, but there were countless times that the two of them went to dinner together. One because neither of them had any thoughts of dating or anything like that, and two because it was cooler to be with his best friend “Secondly, I thought you'd take Y/n. You have to take her!”

“Why?” Jaeyun noticed that Jongseong hesitated a little. His posture shifted in his chair as he uttered his name in the middle of the conversation. He thought his best friend would be happy about the mention and how much Jaeyun liked you, practically a sister-in-law to him. But he saw the company owner's expression change a little.

“Because, well… she's your girlfriend?” it seemed obvious to say something like that, Jongseong wanted to slap himself for acting like that, even more so in front of Jaeyun “And because it's a company event, it's your chance to bring her closer to the gossips who say you treat her badly.”

Jongseong hated how oblivious and sincere his best friend was. The words came out of the other with no intention of hurting or offending, and he knew it. But he also knew how sincere the boy was being because although Jongseong had never been so open about his personal life, having you around where almost everyone – or everyone – from his company was, would be a good opportunity to at least show that he cared about you. Not as he would have liked because you were in public, but he would have tried.

“I don't know why I'm bothering with this, honestly” he put his hands over his face, his voice coming out muffled and he holding back the overwhelming urge to shout. Jongseong was sincere when he said it and he knew that his best friend understood, after all, he had known him almost all his life.

“Maybe it's because you really love her and can't stand the idea of people making things up about you dating her” was another naked truth coming out of the mouth of the world's most sincere best friend, whom Jongseong felt incredibly lucky to have. He took his hands away from his face, letting them rest on his lap as he looked at the boy in front of him.

That was completely true, and also because you were the first person who took him out of the CEO posture and saw him only as Park Jongseong. You saw him as someone other than a suit and tie, expensive clothes, and a closed face. You smiled so beautifully at him that it was then that Jongseong knew he should marry you.

“I hate you” was the only thing he managed to say to Jaeyun, hearing his best friend's laugh after a big thud on the table. He had slapped the thick wood a few times to celebrate that he was right.

“Now that I've convinced you to take Y/n to dinner, I'm going to send her a message” Jaeyun stood up.

“What? You're going to text my girlfriend and say what?” Jongseong narrowed his eyes at the boy.

“I want to ask if that best friend of hers is available… What's her name again?” Jongseong listened to Jaeyun speak several names until he guessed the name of his best friend, whom he had seen a few times when the two of you went out together somewhere more relaxed.

Jongseong genuinely laughed at this, Jaeyun's intentions always being serious, but with a comic undertone that took away all the weight of working hard all week. He watched his best friend walk out of the office humming something without saying another word, leaving him there with a smile on his lips and the thought of introducing you to a sea of people next week.

Jongseong had parked in front of your apartment countless times, waiting for you to come down and walk out the door as gracefully as ever. This time something seemed different and he knew he was too nervous – and unnecessarily so. It was just a dinner he was tired of being at, with boring people, although the subjects were really necessary. He was cordial and polite to partners and future investors, waving and greeting people who were as rich as he was just to make an average while sipping some expensive drink he didn't even care about.

Having you by his side that night would make things a little different. Jongseong didn't know if it had been a good idea to invite you to that dinner, he knew it was a world you weren't used to, although he never said he felt uncomfortable knowing how much he was part of it. Your life, completely opposite to his, was what gave grace and balance to the relationship between the two of you. While Jongseong was counting the company's millions in revenue, wearing a suit worth almost a hundred thousand and always with his hair combed with gel and straightened, you were the opposite. A baggy, comfortable suit soiled with some kind of paint or clay, your hair curled or tied up however, you could manage, inside a room full of art and paintings that you sold everywhere or gave lessons on how to make a good canvas painting. You made your money quietly and unhurriedly, while Jongseong needed figures and results the moment he opened a spreadsheet on his computer.

While he was serious and had no chance for a relaxed smile, you smiled at everyone and greeted anyone who passed in front of you. Your good mood was recognized by Jongseong the day you met, in the coffee shop you shared – in secret – because he knew it was the only quiet place, while you liked the aroma of the coffee and the few people who went there. He was in such a hurry the day he entered that establishment that he didn't see you and knocked over all the coffee you had just paid for.

There was no way he could have cursed you, after all, it was his fault because he didn't look where he was going. He didn't wait for you to pass and even made you waste your drink. Looking in your direction, you kept a smile on your face, even though your T-shirt was dirty with iced caramel coffee. Apologies wouldn't be enough for him to make up for what had happened, so buying you another coffee would be the least he could do. But as soon as he sat down at the table to wait for the compensation coffee, he was surprised by your good humor and smooth talk.

As if you weren't intimidated by him and how well-dressed he was in front of you. Nor did you care that your coffee was sticking to your shirt by now and the smell of caramel was invading the conversation you were both having. Jongseong never thought it would be so easy to talk to someone until he met you. Until he fell in love with you so naturally that he wanted to see you even more every day.

Jongseong sighed slowly, feeling nostalgic for the first day he laid eyes on you. How lucky he was that everything had turned out the way it had… He was overcome by that feeling until he stared at the entrance to your building. There you were. As beautiful as he remembered you to be. So perfect walking towards him while carefully holding the scarf that covered your shoulders to keep the wind from hitting you as the night went on. Although you were covered by his blazer by the end of the night, though.

“Hey” you said as soon as you got close enough, giving that smile that Jongseong was sure was his fuel for anything.

“Hey, darling” Jongseong said back, stretching out his hand enough to touch your waist over the dress. The silk making contact with his skin and the softness of the fabric made him smile. It hugged his body so perfectly that Jongseong was beginning to wonder if he should take you like that.

“Do you like it? Jake helped me choose, he said you'd like this color” your pout was soon broken by his lips, a quick kiss without much depth since you were both still out of the car. Jongseong took a good look again. The navy blue silk highlighted everything about you; from the color of your eyes, the tone of your hair, and even the tone of your skin. He certainly liked that color.

“He knows me on this” Jongseong kissed your lips once more, his other hand going to your face to caress your cheeks and feel the softness of your skin this time “You look stunning, baby.”

“I'm glad you liked it, love” you thanked him, and it was your turn to kiss him quickly to pull away and pull him into the car. You didn't know what time dinner would start on the dot, but you were sure that Jongseong couldn't be late, after all, he was the CEO. He would need to be there a little earlier as he had to welcome the guests and greet a world of important people.

He wasn't a difficult person for you to read, ever since you first met, so this evening it was easy for you to notice how nervous Jongseong seemed. From getting into the car and holding your thigh as his drove, to arriving at the dinner space and getting out of the car with you. Everything seemed to move in slow motion and every time you saw him look in your direction, his adam's apple would jiggle a little more, indicating that Jongseong was swallowing dry for some reason. A reason you couldn't think of. Perhaps asking Jaeyun would be a good idea since he was with Bonnie, your best friend. The two of them were relaxed with each other and would be your company while Jongseong went off to greet the first business partners of the evening.

“Do you two want something to drink?” Jaeyun asked when he found the table that the four of you would be sitting at for the rest of the evening, with only Jongseong left to join you.

“You can bring me whatever you're drinking” Bonnie smiled at Jaeyun, who smiled back.

“I think I'll take a water.”

“What?” Jaeyun's expression contorted, a grimace appearing as he wrinkled his forehead at you while sticking out his tongue “We have so many nice drinks and you're going to ask me for water? Please, Y/n.”

“That's right Y/n, how about the three of us have a drink together?” Bonnie tried to cheer you up with Jaeyun's help. If denying your best friend was a difficult task, having someone else do it made it even worse.

You weren't able to say anything else before Jaeyun left in search of a really good drink in addition to a glass of water. Meanwhile, the moment passed in complete silence between you and your best friend, because she knew you needed some time to yourself. That environment was something different for you and knowing that the stares you received were because you were known as the CEO's girlfriend. What would they think of you… that you were a gold-digger? Or did Jongseong's employees even know about the solid relationship you and he had?

It was clear that he acted strangely when it came to you and his working environment, and it was something you didn't question or care much about. Because you didn't meet Park Jongseong, the CEO. You met Jay, Jongie, the loving man who smiled at you no matter what situation he faced that day. The man with the warmest hugs and the best kiss you've ever tasted in your life.

Much of that dinner was a blur to you after Jaeyun brought some drinks and the three of you chatted about various things, with a little time left over to judge the outfits of people who swore they looked great in that space. But in fact, they were dressed so strangely. Like… Even you, who had never been to such a fancy dinner before, knew how to dress – although Jaeyun helped you with the choice because he knew what Jongseong liked – but that was no excuse! You looked much better than the people who were the talk of the table.

Jongseong had finally joined the table and the conversation between him and Bonnie was pleasant, making you feel good that your boyfriend got on well with your best friend. Just as you and Jaeyun had gotten along. Your boyfriend kept his hand on your thigh under the table, stroking your leg as the conversation between him and your best friend flowed smoothly. The tender touch of Jongseong's fingers, was a silent way of telling you that he was there for you, even though his perfume was everywhere. At least to you, who could tell exactly what he smelled like?

You looked at Jongseong's profile, his sharp jaw and plump lips making your heart race. The way his dimples appeared every time he smiled at something the other two at the table said made your heart leap a little more than usual in your boyfriend's presence. You got so lost in his face, in Jongseong's stunning beauty that you didn't notice when he abandoned his conversation with Jaeyun and Bonnie to look in your direction.

“Admiring?” Jongseong said, a low tone knowing that you would hear it anyway because of how close you had to each other.

“Feeling lucky, maybe” you shrugged, noticing him leaning towards you. His face a few centimeters away from yours, Jongseong's gaze lowered to your lips and then back to your eyes.

“Lucky for what?” he asked, shifting his gaze back and forth between your eyes and your mouth. The way he did it was so natural, yet it made you boil with shyness. Your cheeks would already be visibly flushed if it weren't for the make-up masking it and the amount of alcohol you'd drunk. You could blame it on Jaeyun and Bonnie.

“For having you with me” you finally replied, causing Jongseong's gallant exterior to crumble and giving way to the man with the silly smile and passionate gaze. He leaned in a little closer, his forehead touching yours and the tip of his nose brushing against yours.

Even if you knew that that intimate touch was the furthest the two of you had gone in front of everyone, you didn't know that practically all of his employees would be watching and commenting on it. Seeing how enamored Jongseong seemed to be with that simple touch.

“If I'm going to count myself lucky on this, then I'm the luckiest man on the planet” with a final whisper, he was ready to kiss your lips. Tasting the flavor of the drinks you'd had that night and how the fruity ones would have tasted on your tongue against his if it hadn't been for the mere interruption.

“Sorry to disturb you” Jongseong felt your breath quicken against your face, slowly pulling away so that he could straighten up and pay attention to whoever was calling him. And so he did. Sitting properly next to you as he had before, his hand still lingering on your leg as he looked at the middle-aged man standing behind Jaeyun's chair “I didn't mean to interrupt the guys, but I need you two with a so-called investor near the bar. Can you accompany me?”

A company dinner with business at a time that didn't need to happen. Jongseong and Jaeyun hated being president and vice president at this time.

“Will you wait for me for a few minutes?” he turned towards you, his eyes meeting yours effortlessly. The intense glare in your gaze made Jongseong unable to control himself even a little, so he leaned in and captured your lips without waiting for you to give anything away.

It was no lie to say that Jongseong had the best kiss in the world, even more so when he started caressing your lips with his cracked lips. The muscle of Jongseong's tongue came into contact with yours slowly and gradually, tasting the light fruitiness of the cocktail you'd had a while ago. He knew he would taste it, knew it would match the slow kiss you two shared. Unfortunately for both of you, the time had come to pull away and Jongseong did so with a small smile as he noticed the surprise on your face at having such a sudden kiss.

You held back the urge to laugh when Jaeyun came out and slapped Jongseong on the shoulder in excitement at the kiss that had just taken place. You caught a glimpse of the best friends pestering each other as, together, they walked to the bar where there were a few men much older than the two of them.

“I guess it's just you and me now, dear best friend” Bonnie moved between the chairs to sit next to you, facing the bar where the two boys had arrived a few minutes before. She slowly laid her head on your shoulder, feeling the weight of your head resting on hers straight away.

“How about some more cocktails? I loved what Jake brought us both.”

“That's how you say it. That's my Y/n!” she celebrated, raising her head and making you raise yours too. Bonnie's smile infected yours, along with her excitement at getting up from the table and going after another cocktail to face the rest of the night.

Jongseong's eyes were asking for help as he looked at Jaeyun and saw him order another glass of whiskey from the old man sitting between them. The deal had been made a long time ago, but the older man insisted on drinking a little more to celebrate. He didn't even want to celebrate more than he should have, one glass of whiskey was enough and Jongseong just wanted to go back to sitting at your table, be in your arms, and get out of that dinner.

Thinking about you and how much he missed you, he turned towards the table where you were supposed to be with Bonnie, expecting to see you talking to your best friend. But what Jongseong found was an empty table and nothing but the empty glasses that you all drank before leaving there.

He looked around, looking for some sign from you or Bonnie so he could have an excuse with which he could walk away, say that one of you two needed his help with something and get Jaeyun out of there too.

Jongseong was starting to get nervous without seeing you for more than two minutes, no sign of you anywhere. Then he looked at Jaeyun, as tired and bored as he was. Waving to his best friend as a silent request to leave, neither of them thought much other than to give a small excuse to the old man and walk away.

“What’s wrong, man?” Jaeyun whispered as the two of them walked away, looking at the table where the two of you should be and finding it empty “Oh, I see” then he started to search the place together with Jongseong.

“I think we can split up for a bit, maybe” he suggested as he started to get impatient. He had already walked through the long dining room and not a single solid spark from you or Bonnie. He sighed heavily, Jaeyun looking around before landing his eyes on his best friend.

“The second floor has some rooms from what the organization people said” he answered to Jongseong “Do you want to look there and I’ll go outside to see if the girls went out for some air?”

“Great idea, I’ll go up,” Jongseong said.

Climbing the stairs two at a time, he didn’t know he was capable of being as fast on a staircase as he was at that moment. The second floor was huge and he would spare no effort to open each door to get a signal. Maybe one of you two was drunk and needed some help and wouldn’t be able to speak. Jongseong thought he should have left someone from the company to keep an eye on you at least, so he would know where you were just by asking. But that annoying man rented his and Jaeyun’s time in such a long and tiring way that he didn’t even have time to think.

“Park Jongseong?” he didn’t want to see anyone right now other than you, but the call of his name made him turn towards the vast and empty corridor. Jongseong looked at the woman who was approaching, an eyebrow raised and a smile on her lips that made him wonder what was going on in her head.

“Yes, it’s me” he tried to sound as cordial as possible, as he did with everyone he talked to that night. The woman took a few more steps before stopping dangerously in front of Jongseong, her hand stopping halfway as she wondered whether or not she should raise it and touch him.

“I was looking for you.”

“Looking for me? What would be the reason?” he asked, a little confused when she took another step and Jongseong felt his back hit the wall furiously.

“I can breathe a sigh of relief because my husband finally closed a deal with you” her hand ran down his chest to the top button of his shirt, where she quickly unbuttoned it. Jongseong would have raised his hand to close it and push her away, but the woman was so close that any movement could make him touch some part of her body that he didn’t want to do at all. “That way I can go to your office often. Such a wonderful view…” she held his face between her hands, this time there was no way to think and Jongseong touched her hands to push her away, mentally cursing himself for touching the skin of another woman who wasn’t you.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think you understand” he tried not to sound as nervous as he was, breathing deeply so that his tone wouldn’t falter and remain serious. Jongseong looked at the woman who was trying to maintain an innocent look, which didn’t match what she wanted to do. “I closed a deal with your husband because the offer was great. And I have a girlfriend, so—”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Jongseong” she laughed. “That doesn’t work in the business world…”

He felt sorry for the man who had married her because if this was happening here, Jongseong couldn’t count how many times the woman in front of him had slept with her husband’s business partners. Did she think she would do that to him now? It made his stomach churn at the thought.

Jongseong looked ahead, looking for some sign that she was backing away so he could gently push her away and leave as quickly as possible. But again, the woman didn’t seem to give up and held his face tighter. Her perfectly painted and aligned nails dug into his skin strangely and painfully. Jongseong wanted to scream and tell all etiquette and manners to go to hell, he just wanted to get out of there. The woman stood on her tiptoes and leaned in to kiss him, but he was faster. His face turned in the opposite direction to hers to feel her lipsticked lips touching near the final line of his jaw.

This was something he would have to explain to you, the lipstick mark on your skin or any mark on your face that would have been left if you weren't at the end of the hallway. He felt his chest burn and his eyes widen when your figure was there, standing there and completely confused. Jongseong found some strength to push the woman in front of him without caring about any explanation. The only thing on his mind was to run towards you even though you were running in the opposite direction this time.

“Y/n, wait!” he shouted as loud as he could, running through the hallways until he came down the stairs after you. Jongseong didn’t know how you were so fast after a few cocktails, not even he was able to catch up to you.

The sea of ​​people flooded the hall and the entrance, coming in and out, walking in all directions. But he was focused on your figure heading outside, so that’s where he would head without thinking twice.

“Y/n, please listen to me” Jongseong shouted once more, his breath hitching as he continued running towards you until he saw that there was no escape for you anymore. The parking lot wall is the barrier to stop you from continuing to move away from him “Love, I—”

“Don’t call me that, please” by the tone of your voice he knew that you were holding back tears, and it hurt to know that it was because of him. Because of what you had seen. But what Jongseong wanted most was to explain to you everything that had happened.

“I call you because you’re my love” he continued, walking towards you even though you still had your back to him. Hearing each step of your boyfriend getting closer and closer until his warmth was against your back, “Can you turn around to face me, please?”

As much as he wanted to hold you, turn you around, and kiss you to get rid of any thoughts, he knew he had no right to do that at that moment. So he waited patiently until you turned around, finding your face blurred by tears and your eyes slightly red.

Jongseong hated himself so much at that moment. He hated himself more than anything in the world.

“Did you see everything that happened?” he asked, seeing you nod slowly, “Did you see that I tried to push her away—”

“Jongseong” he froze in place, it was his turn to widen his eyes because you never called him Jongseong. Even when you were mad at him, his name never left your lips. That hurt more than seeing you cry.

“Don’t call me that, you never call me Jongseong.”

“Jongseong” you repeated, your lower lip trembling and your eyes burning a little more. The nail marks on his cheek were still evident. You had seen everything from the beginning, since when that disgusting woman showed interest in your boyfriend thinking he would be another one she would sleep with. The shock had been so great that you hadn’t been able to scream to push her away or do anything, so it was only when your boyfriend walked away that your presence had been noticed in that hallway. You just wanted to find a bathroom to use, anyway, and ended up finding the worst scene that you wanted to forget now “If this happens at a dinner I've been invited to, I wonder what must have happened on the nights you were alone since we started dating.”

“What? Honey, no—”

Your broken sob was the last thing he heard before you walked away again. The desire he had at that moment was to go back to that hallway and make that woman tell him the whole truth about things. Jongseong had never been through a situation like that, the shock running through every fiber of his body as the vivid image of your face contorted in pain and sadness broke him more and more.

“Fuck” he threw his head back, wanting to scream as loud as he could until that horrible feeling passed. Even though he knew it wouldn’t.

Two weeks had passed, and Jaeyun counted on the calendar on his desk and his cell phone. Today was the end of two weeks exactly in which Jongseong had not left the office for anything. Meetings were postponed or only attended by Jaeyun. Calls were answered only by his secretary, with the answers to reschedule visits or that he was not available at the moment. And seeing him in the company hallways? No one did that. Jongseong would arrive an hour before everyone else arrived, only the security guards were able to find him wandering the hallways before entering the confines of his office and leaving an hour after work ended. He didn't want to be disturbed by anything.

"This is getting worrying" Jaeyun looked at his best friend's secretary. Yuna was a cool intern – and a gossip – but not in a bad way, she was the one who passed on all the information to him while Jongseong didn't participate in it. Jaeyun was a more relaxed boss, according to her.

“He postponed another meeting for next week” Yuna looked at the notes of all the interactions she had with the boss and owner of the company. Each message was written down with details and the times the contacts had happened, all so she could keep him informed later. “Do you think we should do something?”

“What if I go to his office?” Jaeyun asked her.

“Mr. Sim, you know that—” she hesitated a little, unsure of what to say, but when Jaeyun continued, Yuna knew she wasn’t that wrong.

“We won’t know without trying, right? And he can’t fight me for this, don’t worry” Jaeyun smiled at the girl and pushed herself off the counter of her desk, walking to Jongseong’s office. He missed the sigh of distress that Yuna gave, knowing the boss and owner of that entire building well. Jongseong would probably scold Jaeyun for bothering him like he did two days ago when Jaeyun insisted that he go out at least to eat something.

With a determined sigh, Jaeyun didn't even need to knock on the door and entered the room like he always did. This time just opening the door wide and walking in.

“I told you to get out of here, Jaeyun” the other didn't even need to take his eyes off the computer to know that, once again, his best friend was trying to interact.

“Since when do you call me Jaeyun, you shit?” he walked over to Jongseong's desk, looking around and noticing the mountain of trash and takeout food. His best friend wasn't like that, never had been. This was worrying him to an absurd level and he didn't know what to do.

Or he did know, he just wanted to test it a little and see how far he could go.

“Since when do you disobey my orders” Jongseong finally looked at him. Dark circles under his eyes and eyes almost screaming for a minute of rest where he could lay his head on the pillow and get some sleep. Jaeyun wondered how long his best friend slept each night to be like that. “Now, please, get out of my office.”

“No” he replied, making Jongseong’s eyes widen. “What? Did I stutter, Jongseong?” leaning on the table, his hands in front of his body and his head down, Jaeyun looked at him a little more seriously. Looking away across the table, Park Jongseong hated how much the boy in front of him knew him so well. He didn’t want to be like that and he also didn’t want anyone to see him like that.

“Jake, go to your office, please?”

“Only if you go home, take a shower, and get some sleep” he said. Jongseong gave a sad smile, really wanting things to be that simple. That he could get at least a little sleep, but every time he laid his head on the pillow, the image of your face came to his mind.

The first few nights, Jongseong could still see the sadness in your eyes and your last words to him before running away. Then he forced himself to think about the good times you shared during the time you were together. Your smile and your touch that he missed so much. The way you called him and told him your feelings in a melody so beautiful that it was the sound of your voice. Jongseong was lost without you.

“That’s not going to happen…”

“Either you go home, or I—”

“What?” he asked, interrupting Jaeyun in the same second.

He seemed to think for a moment, pondering whether to say what was on his mind or leave Jongseong on the edge of curiosity. He decided to go for the second option and pushed himself away from the table.

“You’re leaving this room today, wait for me” he said finally, walking through the room until he left without giving his friend a chance to answer.

It was all or nothing, he needed to do this even if it cost him something that Jaeyun didn’t even know what it was. But the sadness and worry of seeing his best friend like that was even greater than anything, so he would risk everything to make Jongseong leave that room that day.

“So?” Yuna asked curiously, looking at Jaeyun with expectation and excitement. She knew that the two were best friends and could get everything from each other.

“I couldn’t get him to leave there” he began saying, seeing that she was getting a little disappointed with what she was hearing. But as soon as Jaeyun took the cell phone in his hands, continuing to talk, Yuna smiled along with him, “But I know someone who can get everything from him.”

The sound of the computer keyboard combined with the traffic outside the building was the only sound Jongseong had heard for almost forty minutes. No interruptions from his best friend or his secretary. No one had contacted him through Yuna, much less asked to speak to him. It was incredibly peaceful, although his mind was in turmoil.

Jongseong was grateful for the amount of work that occupied his mind for most of the day, although he needed to review some documents since he got lost every time he looked at the photo on the table. Your face in it made him sigh and stop for a few minutes, messing up his hair and wondering what was going on. He wished he could go back in time and simply switch places with Jaeyun and go look for you and Bonnie downstairs. Or better yet, not accept the deal with that man and not have to deal with his freakish unfaithful wife.

Everything would be in perfect condition and Jongseong wouldn't have lost you like that. He felt incomplete and unhappy, just like he used to before he met you.

Jongseong's thoughts screamed self-deprecation. He would have continued doing this for the rest of the day if he hadn't been interrupted by a knock on the door. It wasn't Jaeyun, he was sure of that. His best friend never knocked on his door. It could only be Yuna, and she wasn't to blame for what was happening, so when he politely asked her to come in, Jongseong wasn't surprised to see her standing with the door open.

“Mr. Park, sorry to bother you” she began, almost as if it had been rehearsed during those two weeks when Jongseong had asked her not to be disturbed. He knew she was making an effort to keep him informed of everything even though he didn't want to be there.

“Do you need anything?” he asked her.

“There's an urgent visitor for you” Yuna pressed her lips together, a little hesitant. Jongseong frowned for a moment, not remembering anyone who was an urgent visitor for him.

“Is this another one of Jaeyun’s works? Because if it is…” when Yuna didn’t answer, Jongseong knew his best friend was involved in this. He sighed heavily, taking his hands away from the computer and throwing his head back. “Okay, send Jaeyun’s visitor in, then.”

The last time Jaeyun had mentioned an urgent visitor, he had taken Sunghoon and Heeseung into Jongseong’s office so they could drink bottles of soju since he couldn’t leave until he signed the last report of the week. He didn’t want to drink right now, no drop of alcohol would be able to take away what he was feeling. He appreciated his best friend’s attempts even if he didn’t know if it would work this time.

But Jongseong should also know that Jaeyun never messed around. Not when it came to getting what he wanted since the two had become friends since they were little. When he heard Jaeyun say that he would get out of that office at any cost, he didn't know that the boy would appeal and call for you. You were standing at the door of Jongseong's office now.

“Make yourself at home, Miss Y/n” Yuna’s voice brought Jongseong back to reality as soon as she said your name, waving in your direction and smiling widely as she left you there, closing the door to leave just you and him inside the room.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” he almost stumbled over his own words, stuttering a little as he abruptly got up from the table, dropping some papers. Jongseong tried to fix some strands of his hair, which was certainly more disheveled than when he woke up.

“Jaeyun called me” as he heard your voice for the first time, almost like a song hypnotizing him, Jongseong walked around the table and approached you in slow steps. Looking your body up and down, your loose and casual clothes, just as he remembered, making you so beautiful that he swore he felt his heart swell even more. “Aren’t you eating, Jongseong?”

Now his heart could shrink in size when he heard you call him Jongseong again, falling back into the reality of the state you two were in at that moment. But he didn't care, he wanted to be close to you, so he stopped in front of you and let you look at him.

Apart from you, only Jaeyun was capable of that, of looking so closely. So he let you examine every particle of his face. From his unkempt skin to his tired eyes. His disheveled hair and his shirt looked like they hadn't been ironed or cared for in a few days as if Jongseong had just taken the same fabric and put it on in the rush of the moment.

“Sorry, I—” his adam's apple moved as he searched for the right words to answer you, feeling his eyes burn when he looked at you so closely “I don't want to leave the office, so…”

“So you're leaving now” you wanted to be firm at that moment, but you were as broken as he was.

When Jaeyun called you and asked for help, you had already been planning to see Jongseong for a few days. Your anger had already passed and you managed to cool your head about everything that had happened, talking to Bonnie and listening to the story Jaeyun told her about what had happened. It matched exactly what you saw from the beginning. Jongseong was not and never had been a cheater and a betrayer, you knew that. But your emotions were so intense that you could only think of the worst and wanted to push him away, although you didn't know that the result of that would be the man in front of you like that.

“What?” he asked.

“Let's go home” Jongseong almost moaned tearfully when your hand touched his face, letting a tear escape due to the sudden contact. Pulling his face close, you felt his forehead touch yours “You go take a shower, I'll cook something and then we can talk, okay?”

“As you wish” he replied, his voice choked and his breath mixed with yours due to the closeness you two were in.

You reluctantly walked away, looking around and sighing at the carelessness of the place Jongseong had left. You felt guilty for getting him into that state, all it took was one phone call for him to come and meet you and the two of you to sort things out. But you also knew that if you had done it earlier, it might not have been the right time and you both might not be able to talk. You preferred not to think about what could have been and just focus on what was happening now.

Jongseong approached the chair and grabbed his blazer, throwing it over his arm and turning off the computer screen. Spreadsheets and files were being saved automatically and he wouldn't have to worry about that, because he was finally leaving his office with you.

Your steps were slow in front of him as if you were waiting for him to catch up with you until you reached the door to his office. Looking over your shoulder, you gave a small smile when you saw him standing right behind you. Then your actions were almost automatic, reaching out your hand for Jongseong to hold. He intertwined his fingers with yours. Your soft, velvety skin contrasted with the roughness of his hand, sending a shiver through both of your bodies.

Your grip between his fingers was enough to make Jongseong smile a little, his heart almost jumping out of his mouth at your smile for him. With your free hand, you opened the door, going out first and taking Jongseong with you out of the room.

“Shit, I knew it” Jaeyun almost shouted along with Yuna when he saw you leave the room hand in hand with Jongseong. The two of them looked like teenagers watching a couple of friends make it work because Jaeyun and Yuna clapped their hands against each other in a funny celebration.

“Yuna?” Jongseong called for the secretary, causing her and Jaeyun’s celebration to be quickly interrupted. “Tomorrow I’m going to take the day off, rest… Can you pass my demands on to Jaeyun?”

“Sure, Mr. Park” she smiled at you and Jongseong. Jaeyun didn’t even care that he would have double the work to do. If that meant his best friend would be resting, then he would be fine.

“Thank you” Jaeyun hissed at you as Jongseong turned his back to head to the company elevators. You thanked him back, waving to Yuna as well and following Jongseong to the path he needed to take.

A lighter mood settled between the two of you and even spread to Jaeyun and Yuna. The boy was right when he said that you would be the one to get Jongseong out of that place. He should have bet with Yuna that this would happen because he would have won. But the only thing he got was extra work for an entire day.

But as Jaeyun thought, he wasn’t going to complain about that. His best friend’s rest, combined with the well-being of his relationship, was all the boy wanted to happen.

Vulnerability was something that wasn't part of Jongseong's vocabulary until he met you. Before, he was able to handle professional pressures well, finding some amusement when people in the business flirted with him or Jaeyun. Nothing had ever happened, they were both too professional for that, but it always ended up being a topic of conversation for Jongseong the next morning. He also didn't let the few breakups he had gotten him down, managing to settle down and focus on what was most important: his company with Jaeyun.

But as soon as he met you, a lot of things started to change. Jongseong couldn't find people's boldness funny anymore, although he preferred to keep his personal life very private. He didn't cut Jaeyun off when his best friend said that the future Mrs. Park would be waiting. No partner or investor knew your name, but they knew about you just by the way he talked about you.

Jongseong also didn't know if those two weeks had been a real breakup between you and him or if it was just time you needed to get your head together. The only thing he was sure of was that it had hurt him in a way he had never been able to feel before. The anguish and fear of losing you were overwhelming. Jongseong didn't know what to do or what to think, leaving almost all the time lost in thoughts about you and being guided by Jaeyun when he needed some direction in the middle of work for a few minutes.

But as soon as you showed up at his office, showing concern and that you were there, he was able to respond with relief. Driving home with you in the passenger seat, constantly hearing you ask if he was hungry and what he wanted to eat. That was the most distant dream he had ever imagined living with you. The little things – after such a difficult time – made the boy feel luckier and luckier.

He came out of the shower with damp hair after what seemed like an eternity between going to the market to buy what was missing – Jongseong ignored your scolding after he said he hadn't done any food shopping in those two weeks – and arriving carrying the groceries, leaving you in the kitchen to prepare everything. He wanted to go with you, to watch you cook what you two had agreed on. But he also didn't want to be a hypocrite and say he wasn't tired. All the adrenaline mixed with all the distressing feelings Jongseong felt during that time were replaced by the calm that your presence brought to him, so taking a long shower was the only thing he should be concerned about at that moment. Your words after he went upstairs to his room.

Now that everything was finished, he could go down and meet you in the kitchen, guided by the delicious smell of curry that couldn't be missing from that recipe. Jongseong tried not to make any noise as he came down and stopped at the kitchen door, watching you. The care with which you prepared, your quick smiles as you chopped up a spice or added another ingredient to the pan. That was more valuable than anything he could ever have in life.

“Jongseong, what a scare!” you said as soon as you noticed his presence, making his smile widen even more. Taking slow steps, he entered the kitchen and walked a little further until he stopped next to you. Leaning his forehead on your shoulder and inhaling your scent now. The scent he missed even more if he had to admit it. “Are you hungry?” you asked.

“A little” he wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his hands on your belly and breathing slowly. “Is it ready yet?”

“Yes, I promise” You smiled even though he wasn’t seeing it. Your speed in the kitchen was enviable, but he knew you did everything in the best way you could just so he could get out of the shower with the food already prepared, needing a real meal.

Between the moment he hugged you and the moment the meal was finally ready, everything passed like a blur for Jongseong. Eating in silence by your side, enjoying the good food and the glances and smiles at each other. He made sure to hold your hand between bites, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb and listening to you sigh beside him, everything so perfectly that if it had been Jongseong's delusion and he was still in the office, he wouldn't want to wake up.

“You—” he started to say, you were focused on putting the dishes in the sink and soon turned to him after the two of you finished eating “Do you mind spending the night here with me?”

He looked away after asking, afraid of any reaction from you. Jongseong took a step back to give you space in case you wanted to leave, but he was surprised when he heard you call him slowly.

“Do you want to go upstairs to rest now?” your question could already be a complete answer to him, Jongseong wouldn't even argue anymore. You would stay, he was sure of it.

Pulling you close to him by holding one of your hands, he was content to just guide you to the bedroom upstairs. Without saying a single word for fear he would ask you something and you would go back and leave him there alone. Jongseong wouldn't be able to face that house without you for so long. Even though you didn't live with him yet, at least before your visits were frequent, maybe even overnight stays. But for two weeks, you both lost that.

As soon as you both entered the bedroom, he went straight to the closet to look for something. You waited patiently, walking around the bed and going near the table where he usually got ready before going to work or going out. The smell of the mix of strong perfumes with Jongseong's after-shower scent was incredible. Everything in that room screamed his name and how the particularities of a serious man were completely guarded when he was with you.

“Here it is” he approached you, a piece of cloth in his hands that was only identified by your eyes when he stopped in front of you. It was one of the loose shirts he lent you to wear when you slept here.

No expensive pajamas or lace things, he knew that, your essence could not be bought. And he didn’t even want to. It was this difference between you and him that made the boy fall even more in love with you.

In silence, you began to undress, not caring about Jongseong’s eyes on your body or any corner he wanted to stare at. You, on the other hand, never took your eyes off his face. Wanting to catch every and any reaction as you took off your clothes, remaining only in your panties. Taking the shirt from his hand and easily pulling it over your head and letting the fabric fall on your body.

“Let’s lie down, you need it” you whispered to him, looking him up and down and seeing the small effect you began to have on him. Between the sweetness of the relationship between the two of you, you knew that you were the one who provoked Jongseong the most in this regard, and being away for so long was also making you miss him just as much as he missed you.

Feeling the soft fabric of his bed sheets and the blankets covering the two of you, Jongseong sighed. A sigh of relief as he wrapped one of his arms around your waist and pulled you close. His lips rested on your forehead before lowering his face and resting his forehead against yours this time.

“Do you want to listen to me now?” Jongseong asked you, trying to ignore the provocation from a few minutes ago and focus on something else. Maybe this conversation would be a good one.

“I… would love to” you pondered, but you knew he wanted to talk and that you had come there to talk too. So you let him tell you everything. Every little detail from the first word about how things happened.

You wouldn't hide from him that you had heard this from Jaehyun and Bonnie too, and how you had seen the scene from the beginning. But it happened like a shock and just like Jongseong, you had never experienced that kind of thing in a relationship. Not that you had many, but all the bad feelings invaded you, and dealing with it was something you couldn't do. So those two weeks had been frustrating, but at the same time necessary for you to think.

After all, your relationship with Jongseong was different from everything you and he had ever experienced before. The things that happened had to be dealt with between the two of you, so asking for his help or leaning on him on those occasions was the right thing to do.

“Thank you” he said after a while, his eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips, searching for any sign that you wanted to talk more or that you regretted talking to him. But the lightness in his expression said otherwise.

“For what, exactly?” you asked.

“For coming here and talking to me” Jongseong began speaking, his grip on your waist slowly softening and giving way to a caress with his fingertips as he lifted the fabric of your shirt to touch your skin. “For taking such good care of me” that innocent and sweet whisper went straight to your heart, but his hands against your skin were doing something else to you.

You had to act fast, not stay behind. The conversation between you had already happened and you needed to take care of him completely.

“But I didn’t take care of you enough” you whispered, feeling Jongseong’s affection stop quickly.

“What? What do you mean—” when your lips pressed against his, he knew what you were talking about.

Letting you kiss him now was the only thing he could handle. Your tongue slowly entered his mouth as Jongseong returned to caressing your waist, pulling your face closer, and pressing you against his chest. In that kiss, everything you two felt for each other during your relationship was transmitted, in addition to what you deprived each other of when you were apart.

Your hands slowly moved towards his chest, making their way slowly to tease him as you guided yourself to the drawstrings of the sweatpants he wore. Jongseong could only sigh and moan against your mouth, the feeling of your hand on his body sending electric shocks through every little fiber of his being.

In a slow but deliberate movement, Jongseong got between your legs and let you continue the path of your hand to his pants. Keeping up with your rhythm as his hands moved up the shirt you were wearing, revealing every part of your skin to him.

Jongseong ran his teeth over your lower lip, sucking on the fleshy flesh of your mouth when your hand finally found his cock still covered by his underwear. Moaning into your mouth had become a habit ever since you kissed him in bed. He made no effort to hide the sounds that were being caused by you. As soon as your hand grabbed the outline of his cock, Jongseong slowly ground his hips to force the length into your palm, so small and yet so strong against his throbbing cock.

“Fuck, Y/n” he moaned as he pulled away from your mouth, his chapped lips shiny with saliva sliding over your skin until they found their way to your neck. Placing small kisses on the area, going down to the particular spot between your neck and your earlobe, Jongseong left a small hickey. Smiling against your skin when you moaned in response, tightening your fingers around his cock.

“Jongseong, please” you asked hoarsely, right after your moan and trying not to falter in your tone. Knowing how impossible it was he teased you even more.

At your request, Jongseong lifted your shirt to below your breasts, enough so that the full view of your belly and panties were exposed to him. With his free hand, he took your hand off his dick and lowered his sweatshirt until he kicked it off his feet, leaving only the underwear and shirt he was still wearing.

“What do you want?” he asked, aligning the outline of his dick still covered by his underwear perfectly with the lips of your pussy covered by your wet and shiny panties. The shape was visible due to your arousal.

“I want—” you moaned loudly when the head of Jongseong’s dick hit your clit. It was sensitive and swollen, and you wanted nothing more than to be touched, but with that attitude, you knew your boyfriend had other plans.

“I asked…” Jongseong pressed his cock deeper into your clothed pussy, his slit covered in precum mixing with your essence as it made your panties even wetter along with his boxers. “What do you want?”

For lack of response, he knew the effect it had when he teased you like that. But Jongseong didn’t want things to end so quickly, so he lowered his boxers just enough to release his throbbing, aching cock. With the same hand, he traced the outline of your crotch where your panties were clinging, feeling the essence dripping from how wet you were.

He looked down for a moment, his fingers becoming almost transparent from how wet you were as he pulled your panties away. With his free hand, Jongseong ran his cock along the side of your panties, feeling the pressure of the fabric as he managed to place his length right above your clit.

“Fuck, you’re not going to— You’re not going to tease me like that” you whimpered a little too late because Jongseong began to thrust his hips slowly, making your pussy soak his entire length. With each touch of his cockhead to your clit, you wanted to cry out from the stimulation.

Jongseong swallowed a loud moan, the noise of excitement growing more intense as he soaked his entire cock in your pussy, his hips slowly moving enough.

“Why, hm?” he asked, his gaze lifting to yours as he picked up the pace. Your fucked out face could make Jongseong cum right there, without even having penetrated you yet. Your legs gripped tightly to his hips, following along as he moved back and forth, his cock stuck between your wet pussy and your panties that were starting to get stickier and stickier, almost transparent.

You pulled Jongseong by the neck, joining your lips to his as you felt him pick up the pace. The sound of his wet movements turned you on even more. His cock moved up and down your pussy as his pelvis reached its limit, only for you to soak his cock all over before his hips came back and did it all over again.

Your lungs screamed for air, but you didn't want to let his mouth go, so you kept it there just to feel Jongseong sharing the same air as you. Your brow furrowed as his pace became faster, more urgent. The shape of his mouth molding to yours, the side of his nose pressing against yours, and your foreheads still together as the two of you synchronized the movements of your hips.

Even though his cock wasn't inside you, Jongseong knew every sign your body had before he came. Every clench your pussy made around nothing and every slow spasm you indicated when you were close. Along with that, his shallow thrusts became erratic, and his nibbling on your lower lip became frantic.

“Jongie” you moaned, a request you didn’t know what it was. If it was for him to let you cum, if it was for him to not stop. You didn’t know, you could have a little bit of everything.

“Yeah, baby?” Jongseong kept his lips close to yours, his gaze never leaving yours because he wanted to look at you when you came.

“Don’t stop” you begged.

“I wasn’t intending to” he smiled with his mouth anchored to yours, his movements a little faster.

Jongseong’s thumb went to the base of his cock, making the completely wet glans – he couldn’t tell what was his pre-cum or his essence anymore – slide over your clit and down your pussy to your hole. He circled it once before penetrating you without any warning.

“Holy shit” you screamed at the sudden intrusion.

“Cum on my dick, baby” he begged, this time with a single strong thrust so that the head of his cock kissed your cervix, where he could reach.

The way your pussy tightened around his cock after so much stimulation and with just one thrust, you came like you had never done before. The trembling of your pussy walls was enough for Jongseong to cum in thick, strong jets inside you. The amount surprised him because he still came as he continued thrusting into you, hearing your whimpers knowing he was already overstimulating you.

Slowly he stopped moving his hips, the last drop of his cum inside you was released, and only then was Jongseong able to rest his body on yours, hugging you without pulling out of you yet.

“That was…”

“Intense” you finished his sentence, running your hands up your boyfriend’s strong arms until you held his face between your hands. The tender and calm look you gave him was nothing compared to what the two of you had shared seconds before.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked you, still panting as he struggled to pull out of your pussy. It was so warm and sheltering him so well, he didn’t want to leave anytime soon.

“Sure, whatever you want” you said.

He seemed to think about it for a moment, smiling slowly as he pulled out of you, careful not to overstimulate you. You both moaned together at the abandonment of your hips, but as soon as Jongseong’s body fell beside you, exhausted, you snuggled up to him and buried your face in the crook of his neck. His scent calmed you down a little more as your breathing became normal.

“Don’t ever call me Jongseong again” he said in a whisper, running the tip of his nose through your hair as his hands rested on your back.

You laughed softly but stopped when he slapped your ass and pulled you closer to him.

“I’m serious, it’s not nice and—”

“I know” your lips kissed him as you lifted your face, looking at him properly. “I won’t do it again. Only if you deserve it.”

“I promise, I won’t do anything to deserve it, love” Jongseong pouted, and you swore it was the most adorable thing in the world.

Because everyone knew Park Jongseong, and here, he was just your Jongie. Your boyfriend, and the man of your life.

© ikeuverse, 2024. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

[lovelyspring7]

Silver Pearl | Yandere JJK x Reader

Preview: Jungkook is used to getting what he wants, and now, he wants you. Saying "no" isn’t an option. Will you find a way to break free from his relentless grip, or is freedom just an illusion in the billionaire’s twisted mind?

Word count: 13k

Genre: Yandere

Pairing: CEO Billionaire Jungkook x reader, short mentions of Cha Eunwoo & Jung Jaehyun.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, non consensual touching, manipulation, controlling & emotionally abusive behaviour.

Disclaimer: This type of content is not suitable for all audiences and I do not condone any of the presented behaviour. This is purely for entertainment and fictional purposes and I don’t think any BTS member would act like this.

Authors note: The second part of Pearl series is here! Hope you enjoy! Can’t wait to know what you guys think of this long awaited chapter, my asks are always open!💜

Read Part 1 Here

With trembling legs, you let Jungkook guide you back to the bedroom. His grip on your hand was gentle, but the fear lingering in your chest made your entire body tense. The warmth of his touch, once comforting, now felt like a chain binding you to him.

You couldn’t believe how quickly everything had spiraled. Just hours ago, he was affectionate, kind even, and now... Now, the man standing before you was a stranger, someone whose darkness you had never truly seen until tonight.

As you entered the bedroom, Jungkook released your hand and sighed, rubbing his neck as though the tension of the evening had caught up to him. You stood near the door, watching him closely, unsure of your next move. 

Jungkook’s smile softened as he turned to you, almost as if the events from earlier hadn’t happened. “Come here, princess.” He patted the bed beside him, his eyes urging you to comply.

You hesitated, but his gaze darkened, and you knew that defying him right now wasn’t an option. Slowly, you made your way over to the bed and sat down, keeping your distance from him.

He noticed but said nothing, instead reaching over to pull you closer. You flinched slightly, but Jungkook ignored it, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as if it was the most natural thing. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, you know. I could never hurt you.”

You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the tears that threatened to spill. How could he speak so calmly, as if he hadn't just confessed he had someone killed? As if you weren’t trapped?

He stroked your hair, his voice a low murmur. “I know it’s a lot to take in. But I promise, everything I do is for you, princess.”

Your stomach twisted, anger and fear bubbling just beneath the surface, but you forced yourself to stay still. 

Jungkook leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “You’ll see,” he whispered against your skin. “You’ll see that this is how it’s supposed to be.”

A lump formed in your throat, and you fought to hold back the sob that was building. But Jungkook noticed your shaking body, his brows furrowing in concern. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re just overwhelmed.”

“I-I’m tired,” you whispered, hoping he’d give you space.

He paused, then nodded, giving you a small understanding smile. “Of course. You’ve had a long day.”

Jungkook stood up and helped you under the covers, tucking you in with a tenderness that felt so out of place after everything that had happened. You watched as he moved around the bedroom, dimming the lights and making his way to the other side of the bed. He slid under the covers beside you, pulling you close to him. His arms wrapped around you, caging you in. You could feel his heartbeat against your back. It was steady, calm, completely at odds with the storm of emotions raging inside you.

“Goodnight, princess,” he whispered into the darkness, his lips brushing against the back of your neck.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you lay there, trapped in his embrace. 

As Jungkook’s arms tightened around you, the weight of everything crashed down. Your heart pounded in your chest, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t slow your racing thoughts. The room was quiet, but your mind was a storm.

Lying there, trapped in his embrace, the reality of what you had gotten yourself into settled in, cold and suffocating. You didn’t dare to move. Tears welled in your eyes, hot and uncontrollable. You blinked hard, trying to stop them from spilling, but it was no use. Slowly, silently, they rolled down your cheeks, soaking the pillow beneath you. 

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to stay quiet. You couldn’t let him know. You couldn’t let him see you like this. He might ask questions, might tighten his grip, the last thing you wanted was for him to notice.

The warmth of his body behind you felt suffocating, a reminder of how close he always was, how there was no escaping him. The man you once thought was kind and protective had revealed something far darker, something far more dangerous. You’d never felt more alone, more trapped. 

Fucking rich people.

How did this happen? How have you gotten yourself into this? You cursed yourself, cursed the choices that led you here, cursed him for being so cruel under the surface of his affection. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You buried your face deeper into the pillow, muffling any sound that might slip out. The sobs you held back were painful, your throat raw from trying to stay quiet, but you had no choice. You had to be strong, had to stay silent. For now, that was the only thing you could control.

You lay there for what felt like hours, the tears eventually slowing as exhaustion began to weigh down on you. But even as sleep finally pulled you under, a deep, gnawing fear lingered in the pit of your stomach.

__________

As you stirred from sleep, your body felt heavy, weighed down by the exhaustion of a restless, sleepless night. Your head pounded, and your eyes were swollen from the silent crying that had consumed you hours before. The fear that had gripped you the night before lingered, but it wasn’t the same. As you lay there in the empty bed, staring at the ceiling, something else began to stir inside you.

Anger.

The sadness and fear that had paralyzed you last night shifted into a burning rage. The more you thought about it, the more the fury built. How could he act this way, treat you like something he owned, then sleep so peacefully beside you as if nothing had happened? It was sickening. It was maddening. He had controlled you with his words, his touch, trapping you, and you were done being afraid.

You threw the covers off and sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood up, the cold floor beneath your feet doing nothing to calm the anger simmering in your chest.

The scent of sweet vanilla wafted through the air, drawing your attention to the faint sounds of movement coming from the kitchen. He was up, and from the smell of it, making breakfast like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t terrified you into submission last night. 

You walked to the door, every step fueled by the fire raging inside you. Reaching the kitchen, you saw him standing there, humming softly to himself, completely at ease as he moved around the kitchen, preparing breakfast.

Jungkook glanced up as you entered, his face lighting up with a smile that felt so wrong given everything that had happened. “Good morning, princess,” he said warmly, “Sleep well?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, the fury bubbling up again. He was acting like nothing had happened. How could he be so calm, so collected?

“Come sit down,” he said, turning back to the stove. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”

You stood there, staring at his back, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. He hadn’t even acknowledged the hell he put you through last night. You wanted to scream from how frustrated you were. But instead, you swallowed down the anger, pushing it deep inside for now.

Without saying a word, you walked over to the table and sat down. Jungkook continued to hum softly, oblivious to the storm building inside you. 

But for now, you waited.

Jungkook set the plate in front of you with a wide, satisfied smile. Pancakes, perfectly golden and stacked high, topped with fresh berries and drizzled with syrup. The sweet scent of vanilla and sugar filled the air, tempting and warm. It was one of your favorites, something he knew well.

He sat down across from you, still acting like everything was perfectly normal. “I made them just the way you like,” he said, his voice soft and affectionate. 

You stared at the pancakes, unmoving. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the table as you felt the anger inside you start to rise again. 

Jungkook looked up when you didn’t immediately dig in. “What’s wrong baby, you don't like pancakes anymore?” He asked with curiosity. 

“I’m not hungry,” you muttered, eyes fixed on the untouched pancakes in front of you. 

You lifted your gaze, and there he was, watching you intently. His jaw clenched as he swallowed hard, breaking the tense silence.

“You were so good to me last night,” his voice was calm, but edged with something darker. “So why the sudden change?”

“Eat.” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for arguments. 

“I said, I'm not hungry.” You bite back. 

He exhaled through his nose as he put his fork down. 

“What? Are you mad that things aren't going your way for once?” It was a bold sentence but it needed to be said. You weren't going to let him have his way with you. Staring back at him you saw how his jaw visibly clenched, irritation flickering across his features as he fought to maintain his composure. 

“I’m gonna ask you one last time,” he said, voice steady but charged, “Eat your breakfast.”

“No.”

The word barely left your mouth before he stood abruptly, the force of it sending your heart racing. Before you could process what was happening, his hands were on you, lifting you out of your chair with a swift, almost casual strength. He carried you toward the kitchen counter, his grip firm but controlled. He set you down on the cold, smooth surface, positioning you so that you were sitting on the edge, your legs dangling. The cold countertop sent a shiver through you, but it was nothing compared to the icy tension in the air. 

“Why do you have to be so stubborn?” he muttered, his breath warm against your ear, his tone a dangerous mix of exasperation and something much darker.

Your breath caught as he stood close, his presence overwhelming. Panic flickered at the edges of your mind, but you forced yourself to stay calm, pushing down the fear. His grip remained firm, yet disturbingly gentle, as though he was handling something delicate, something he could break if he chose.

“Let me go,” you demanded, your voice shaky but defiant.

He paused, his eyes scanning your face, searching for a crack in your resolve. Submission, perhaps. Doubt. He wanted to see you break, but you wouldn’t.

“You’re testing me,” he said, his voice low and threatening, but his hold on you never tightened. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.” his gaze drilling into yours.

“I’m not your doll,” you said through gritted teeth, meeting his stare head-on, refusing to let him see the fear in you.

His lips curled into something resembling a smile, but there was no warmth in it, only cold amusement. “Doll?” he echoed, his voice soft but dangerous. “No baby. But you’re mine. And you’ll do as I say.”

You could feel your pulse pounding in your temples, but you didn’t look away. “No, I won't.”

His expression darkened, and for a split second, something almost like disappointment flashed in his eyes. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that unnerving calm. He leaned in close, his breath ghosting over your cheek.

“You’re going to eat,” he whispered, his voice like velvet over steel. “Or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

His words wrapped around you, sickly sweet yet suffocating, the threat lingering beneath his loving tone impossible to ignore. He put his hand on your chin and held it firm, his thumb tracing your lip with unsettling affection. The way he looked at you, as if you were the most precious thing in the world, only made the whole situation feel even more twisted.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but you hated yourself for it—the crack of desperation he would no doubt savor.

He tilted his head, his expression softening into something almost affectionate, his thumb pausing its slow movement. “Please?” he whispered back, as if you’d just said something sweet. His grip relaxed, but not enough for you to break free. “Oh, Sweetheart, I know you’re scared. But you don’t have to be. Everything I do, it’s for us. To keep you safe and close to me, to give you everything you deserve and more.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, his other hand sliding to the back of your neck, cradling you as if you were delicate, breakable. “Be good for me.” he murmured, his voice a gentle lullaby laced with obsession.

His closeness was suffocating, his words dripping with a distorted kind of love that made your skin crawl. “This isn’t okay,” you managed to say, your voice trembling as you met his gaze, refusing to let him see how completely terrified you were. 

He smiled, but it was filled with a dark, dangerous affection, as though he found your defiance adorable rather than threatening. “You’ll understand one day,” he whispered softly, his fingers tightening just slightly at the back of your neck, holding you in place as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’ll see how much I care.”

He straightened, his gaze locking onto yours again, and in that moment, you could see how deep his obsession ran, how far he was willing to go. He gently released his hold on your neck and stepped back, his eyes still glued to you, watching every breath you took.

“Now,” he said, his voice soft but commanding, “you’re going to eat. And you’re going to stop fighting me, my love. You understand that?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, every fiber of your being screaming to run, but you were trapped—trapped by his words, by the twisted love in his eyes, by the knowledge that he would never let you go.

He slowly stepped back, leaving you on the cold countertop as he walked to the table to grab the plate of pancakes. When he returned, he held it in front of you.

You got goosebumps as you stared down at the plate, the pancakes now cold and uninviting, but it wasn't the food that made you hesitate. It was the weight of his gaze on you, expectant and unwavering, his dark eyes daring you to defy him again. You could feel the unspoken threat hanging in the air, just beneath the thin veneer of affection he wore so well.

Slowly, you reached for the fork, your fingers trembling as they closed around the handle. You weren't hungry. You could barely breathe, let alone eat, but refusing him again felt like

stepping into something far more dangerous. You could sense his satisfaction as you lifted the fork to your mouth, even though every movement felt like surrender.

"That's it," he murmured softly, his voice low and filled with twisted pride, as though he'd just coaxed a frightened animal into trusting him. "Good girl. See how easy it can be when you stop fighting?"

The words made your stomach churn, but you swallowed the bite, forcing yourself not to react. You couldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply he affected you. Every inch of your body screamed to run, to push the plate away, but you knew he wouldn't allow that. Not now. Not ever.

He watched you closely, eyes flickering with possessive adoration as you took another bite. It wasn't the food he was concerned with, it was your submission, your compliance, the quiet thrill he got from watching you bend to his will. "That's my girl," he whispered, his fingers brushing your hair back, tucking it gently behind your ear. His touch was soft, almost tender, but it made your skin crawl all the same. "I knew you'd come around. You just need a little... encouragement."

You set the fork down, unable to stomach another bite, but the gesture didn't seem to bother him. He stepped closer, standing between your knees now, his hands resting lightly on your thighs, his thumbs tracing small circles in a way that would've been comforting if it weren't him. 

"I do this because I love you," he whispered, his breath warm against your cheek as he leaned in, his lips brushing your skin in an unsettling mockery of a kiss. "I know you haven't seen it yet, but you will. You'll understand. No one will ever care for you like I do. No one will ever love you like I do."

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, but your pulse hammered in your ears. “You can't force me to feel the same," you whispered, barely able to keep the tremor out of your voice.

He paused, his lips still hovering near your skin, and for a moment, you wondered if you'd pushed too far. But then, he smiled- a slow, unsettling smile that sent a shiver down your spine. "Oh, Princess," he murmured, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. "You don't have to say it. I can see it in you, even if you don't realize it yet. I'll wait.”

His hands slid up your thighs, his grip firm but not painful, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'm patient, you see. I'm willing to wait until you come to your senses. But make no mistake," he leaned in closer, his lips ghosting over yours now, the intimacy of it sickening, "you're mine. Whether you admit it now or later, it doesn't matter. You belong to me."

You bit down on your lip, willing yourself not to tremble under his intense gaze. He lingered there, his breath warm against your mouth, daring you to react. When you stayed silent, he straightened, the satisfaction in his expression unmistakable.

"Good," he whispered, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling away. He turned his back, walking calmly to the sink, as though the entire conversation had been perfectly normal. "You'll see, love. One day, you'll thank me for all of this."

__________

After finishing breakfast and clearing the table, you felt the need to wash away the lingering tension from the morning. You turned to him, trying to keep your voice light.

“Hey, I’m going to take a shower,” you said, heading toward the bathroom.

He looked up from where he was drying the dishes, his brow furrowing slightly. “A shower? Why now?”

“Just to freshen up,” you replied, forcing a smile. “I feel a bit gross after breakfast.”

He put the dish towel down, turning his full attention to you. “I can help with that,” he said, his voice low and slightly playful.

You hesitated, a slight chill running down your spine. “That’s okay. I can manage on my own.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, but he maintained calm. “You know I just want to help you feel good. How about I join you?”

You took a step back, a mix of apprehension and defiance flooding your mind. “I’d really rather be alone right now,” you insisted, trying to keep your tone firm but sweet. “It’s just a quick shower.”

He stepped closer, his expression softening, but you could sense the underlying tension. “You don’t need to be alone. I can make it more enjoyable. We could have fun together.”

“I just need a few minutes to myself,” you said, keeping your gaze steady. “Please, can’t you let me have that?”

For a moment, he looked taken aback, as if your request was unexpected. But then his expression hardened, the warmth fading from his eyes. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide from me,” he replied, his voice steady but tinged with frustration. 

You swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. “I’m not hiding. I just want some space to gather my thoughts. That’s all.”

He crossed his arms, his jaw tightening slightly. 

“I’ll be quick, I promise,” you insisted, trying to sound convincing. “I’ll be right in the bathroom. You can stay close if that makes you feel better.”

He considered your words for a moment, and you could see the conflict in his eyes. Finally, he sighed, stepping back a little. “Fine, super quick then. I don’t want to be away from you for too long.”

You nodded, relief flooding through you. 

As you headed into the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes on you, watching as you closed the door. You turned on the water, letting it run as you leaned against the cool tiles. You needed this time alone to clear your head, to breathe without his suffocating presence hovering over you.

As the warm water cascaded over you in the shower, you allowed yourself a few precious moments to breathe. You closed your eyes, focusing on the sound of the water to drown out the thoughts of him. 

What could you do to escape him? It was a dangerous game, but you had to find a way. You needed a strategy, a way to manipulate him into letting his guard down. If you played your cards right, you might be able to find a window of opportunity to slip away.

Your mind raced as you lathered shampoo into your hair. First, you needed to build his trust. You’d seen how quickly his mood could shift from affectionate to possessive, and you had to navigate that carefully. If you could make him believe that you were accepting of his love, that you were starting to see things his way, perhaps he would let you have more freedom, time alone, maybe even time away from him.

Once you rinsed out the shampoo, you continued your thoughts, focusing on the idea of creating a facade of compliance. “I can play along,” you thought, the water washing away not just the soap, but your anxiety as well. If I show him that I’m willing to embrace his twisted version of love, he might relax his grip.

Maybe you could start asking for small favors, things that seemed harmless but could lead to more significant opportunities. If you could convince him to let you go to school, or to see a friend, it would give you the chance to formulate a real escape plan. You could text someone for help or find a way to contact the outside world without him knowing.

The idea of appearing genuinely affectionate could work to your advantage too. If you made him believe that you cared for him, that you were falling into his idea of love, he might not suspect anything. You could ask to do something nice for him, like cooking dinner or watching a movie together, to further endear yourself to him. Keeping him engaged and distracted would be crucial.

Rinsing off the last of the soap on your body, you rehearsed the plan in your head. Every word had to be perfect. You needed to make him feel reassured, secure in the idea that you were staying, that you belonged to him, because if you could make him believe that, maybe, just maybe, he’d let his guard down. And that sliver of trust could be your chance to escape.

Wrapping yourself in a white plush robe, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. As you stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, Jungkook was already there, waiting. His eyes immediately flicked over you, and there was something possessive in the way he watched, as if even a moment without you was too long.

“See? I told you I’d be quick,” you said, forcing a lightness into your tone. “Thank you for being so patient with me.”

His gaze softened slightly as he smiled back at you, and for a moment, you felt a rush of confidence. Maybe, just maybe, you could find a way out of this after all.

“Feeling better, princess?” he asked softly, though his eyes held an edge. “I picked out something for you.”

You glanced at the clothes laid out on the bed, one of his hoodies and a pair of sweatpants. You hesitated, trying to keep your expression neutral. Wearing his clothes would make him feel in control. But you needed to give him the illusion that you were trying to please him while still asserting some level of independence, and can't go from a zero to a hundred.

You forced a small smile. “Thank you, Jungkook, but I was thinking I could pick out something myself today. Maybe one of my old clothes?” Your voice was light, casual, like it was no big deal. 

He crossed the room in just a few strides, standing close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to read something hidden in your words. “You don’t like what I picked out for you?” His voice was low, but it carried a sharp undertone. A test.

You swallowed, keeping your gaze soft and affectionate, even as tension wound tight in your chest. “It’s not that. I just thought it’d be fun to wear something different. But if you want me to wear this, I will.” You reached out to touch the hoodie, hoping the gesture would calm him.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened briefly, but his eyes softened as they roamed your face, as if trying to understand you fully. Gently, he lifted his hand to cup your chin, his thumb grazing your cheek tenderly. He tilted your head up, making you meet his gaze. 

“You don’t have to worry, my love,” he murmured, his voice warm but firm. “I’ll always take care of you. Let me handle everything, okay.”

His words were filled with affection, but beneath them, there was still an unmistakable note of control.

You fought against the instinct to pull away, keeping your voice soft and steady. “I know, and I’m trying. I just thought you might like seeing me in something else, something like silk. But I’ll wear whatever you want.”

For a moment, there was silence between you, the weight of his gaze heavy on your skin. Then, finally, his lips twitched into a small, satisfied smile. The decision was final in his smile. 

As Jungkook reached for the robe, you instinctively tightened your grip on it, he gently tugged it from your grasp. Panic flared in your chest as the soft fabric slipped down, but you reacted quickly, clutching the robe just before it fully exposed you. Only your shoulder and part of your collarbone were visible, the rest of the robe held tightly against your chest.

His eyes traced the newly exposed skin, lingering for a moment, before flicking up to meet your gaze. A mix of emotions flickered in his expression, something between satisfaction and curiosity, as though he was testing your boundaries, watching how far you’d go to resist.

“You don’t need to hide from me,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle, though laced with possessiveness. 

You grip firmly on the robe as you carefully shielded yourself. 

Ironically, even then as a stripper, you’d never shown much of yourself. Most of the outfits you wore, body suits and lingerie, had always covered more than they revealed. It was a kind of armor, a way to maintain some control over your own body, despite the prying eyes watching you night after night.

He paused, clearly not used to being denied, even in such a small way. His hand brushed your arm, fingers ghosting over your bare shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, as you let him pull the hoodie down over your head. Even as the oversized fabric enveloped you, you kept your grip on the robe beneath it, protecting yourself, both from the cold and from the vulnerability of being completely exposed to him.

As Jungkook stepped back, admiring how the hoodie looked on you, his gaze shifted to your wet hair, droplets falling onto the fabric. He frowned slightly, a hint of concern crossing his face. "Your hair's dripping water" he said softly, reaching out to brush a strand behind your ear. "I don’t want you catching a cold."

Without waiting for your response, he turned toward the vanity. "Let me get you a hair tie."

As soon as his back was turned, your heart raced, knowing you had just seconds. You glanced quickly at the bed where the sweatpants were lying. Without thinking, you dropped the robe that was covering your waist down. Moving swiftly but silently, you grabbed the sweatpants and stepped into them, pulling them up just as Jungkook returned with the hair tie in hand.

His eyes immediately went to the sweatpants now covering your legs. For a brief moment, his smile faltered, and you could see a flicker of disappointment in his expression. His gaze lingered on the fabric, and the tension between you grew heavier. 

He had been expecting something different, a chance to savor the control he had over you in this moment, and now, it was slipping. You saw the sadness in his eyes, subtle but unmistakable, as he handed you the hair tie. 

"You were quick," he said softly, his tone gentle but tinged with regret. His fingers brushed the fabric of the sweatpants lightly, as if he were reconsidering what to say next. "I just wanted to help."

You forced a smile, trying to smooth things over. "I know," you replied, taking the hair tie from him. "I just got cold and... I thought it would be better." You paused, meeting his eyes, hoping the reassurance in your voice was enough. "But I appreciate everything you do for me. Really."

He exhaled slowly, his hand falling back to his side. He nodded, though you could still feel that lingering disappointment in the air. 

“Let’s not think about it too much, okay?” he said, his voice dipping into that sweet tone he used when trying to soothe over any conflict. “Why don’t we relax for a bit? We could watch a movie, something we both enjoy. How about that?”

You nodded, keeping the smile on your face. “Sure, that sounds nice.”

Without another word, Jungkook took your hand and guided you toward the living room, where the plush couch awaited. As he set up the movie, you could feel his presence behind you, close and attentive, his fingers brushing your back as if testing the waters. Once everything was ready, he sat down next to you, immediately pulling you into his lap, his arms wrapping securely around your waist.

As the movie went on, you could feel his eyes on you more than the screen. Every so often, his hands would drift, brushing over your thighs, running along your back, and occasionally tightening as if to remind you that you were his. His touch became bolder, more insistent, until it started to feel like he was less interested in the movie and more focused on you.

You shifted uncomfortably, trying to redirect his attention to the screen. "This part's really good," you said lightly, gesturing toward the TV, but he wasn’t paying attention. His lips pressed against your neck, lingering there for longer than you wanted. Your heart raced as you tried to stay calm, forcing a nervous laugh.

"Jungkook... maybe we can just-"

Before you could finish, his phone buzzed, cutting through the moment like a lifeline. His grip on you loosened slightly, he took out the phone with a sigh, frustration flashing in his eyes.

"Hold on, just one second," he murmured. His fingers lingered on your waist for a moment before he finally pulled away completely and gently moved you aside, standing as he answered the call. His voice shifted, going from soft to firm and businesslike. "Yeah? What is it?"

He paced across the room, his back to you now, as he discussed something about a meeting that needed his attention. You sat there, your heart still pounding from the intensity of his closeness, but now relieved by the brief reprieve.

Jungkook shot you a glance, his expression torn between annoyance at the interruption and reluctance to leave you alone. "I have to take care of something at work," he said, his tone clipped but apologetic. "I’ll be back before dinner. Just stay here, okay? I'll make it quick."

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and watched as he gathered his things. 

Jungkook lingered by the door, his hand on the handle as he turned back to face you. His expression softened, but there was something darker underneath- a warning, a reminder of control. He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an unsettling intensity. 

“I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret while I’m gone, princess,” he said quietly, his voice firm yet gentle, as if coaxing you into compliance. “And I really don’t want us to do anything we’ll both regret.” The words, though calm, carried an unmistakable edge.

Your stomach twisted at the unspoken threat in his tone. You forced yourself to smile, nodding obediently. “Of course. I’ll just stay here, wait for you to come back,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

He moved closer again, reaching out to brush your hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just a little too long. “Good girl,” he murmured, his fingers gently gripping your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze. “I’ll know if you try anything. Don’t forget that.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze, his thumb tracing your lower lip in a way that made your skin crawl despite the tenderness. He was always like this, smothering affection masking something far more dangerous. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment too long before he pulled away.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he said, a twisted warmth in his tone. “Be good while I’m gone.” With that, he stepped away, finally exiting the room, but not before casting one last look over his shoulder, as if ensuring you understood exactly what he expected.

You heard the door click shut, the sound echoing in your ears like a warning bell. Your mind racing, trying to process everything. He hadn’t locked the door, not this time, but you knew better than to believe you could just walk out without consequence. There would be cameras, perhaps even people watching. 

A part of you wanted to rush for the door, but you knew better. You had to be smart, strategic. Trying to escape now would only tighten his grip, making things even worse. If you were going to find a way out, it had to be subtle, planned, and with no room for error.

Taking a shaky breath. For now, you had to play the part.

You stood there for a moment, listening to the quiet hum of the apartment after Jungkook left. The air felt heavy, as though his presence still lingered, even though you were alone now. But his words echoed in your mind: “I’ll know if you try anything.”

You forced yourself to breathe slowly, trying to calm your racing heart. You couldn't act hastily, not now. You glanced toward the door, freedom, but not without consequences. You had no idea what surveillance systems or traps he might have in place. You knew he was possessive enough to ensure you wouldn’t just slip out without him knowing. He always had control, even when he wasn’t physically there.

You looked around the apartment, your mind running through all the possibilities, all the things he could be watching. Cameras? Maybe. Some kind of alert system? You couldn’t rule it out. You’d learned early on that he wasn’t the kind of person to leave anything to chance.

Carefully, you walked toward the window, pulling the curtain back just enough to peek outside. You were several stories up. Jumping wasn’t an option.

Your mind buzzed with ideas, trying to balance hope with fear. What could you do now to buy yourself more time, more trust? You knew you had to be smart, to play along even when it felt suffocating. Maybe this time, when he returned, you could act more compliant, give him a reason to believe you were falling in line. You just needed him to let his guard down a little more.

With a sigh, you moved back to the couch, deciding it was safer to wait. You couldn’t make any rash decisions. Not yet.

As you sat, your mind shifted back to Jungkook’s behavior, his unsettling mix of affection and control. He truly believed he was doing this out of love, protecting you, caring for you. That delusion fueled his every action, and it made him unpredictable. You knew you had to carefully navigate his moods. Push too hard, and he’d snap. Give in too much, and you’d lose yourself completely.

You fiddled with the hem of his oversized hoodie he had dressed you in, the material soft against your skin, and the subtle scent of laundry detergent. You had to stay calm, stay strategic. Maybe you could make dinner for him. A way to show him you were being “good,” just as he expected.

As you made your way to the kitchen, an idea came to mind: Bibimbap. It was simple, comforting, and reminded you of times when things were easier. Back when you had to scrape together whatever ingredients you had just to make a meal, tossing them into a bowl of rice with a bit of protein. 

You opened the fridge and scanned for what you needed. There were eggs, some vegetables, and a bit of leftover beef, perfect for what you had in mind. Cooking could help settle your nerves, and more importantly, it could keep Jungkook happy. 

Just as you were about to place the fried egg in the bowl for the final touch, you heard the front door open. He was back, sooner than expected. Your heart jumped into your throat, and you quickly composed yourself, forcing a soft smile as you turned toward him.

Jungkook stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room briefly before landing on you. There was a strange relief in his expression, as if he had been expecting to find you somewhere you shouldn’t be. He smiled, walking over to you, his fingers brushing your cheek as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

"You’re still here. Good girl," he murmured, his voice a mix of affection and possession. "I’m glad you didn’t try anything… disappointing."

You swallowed hard, maintaining the calm facade. "Of course not," you whispered, keeping your tone steady. "I was waiting for you."

His gaze softened, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, like he truly believed this twisted version of love. He sat down next to you, pulling you into his arms, his touch tight yet oddly gentle. "Let’s spend the rest of the evening together, just us," he said quietly, his lips brushing your temple. "I want to enjoy every second with you."

You nodded, leaning into his embrace, knowing that for now, you had no choice but to play along. Each small victory would build toward something bigger, toward an escape. 

Suddenly, Jungkook pulled back and grabbed the bowl of food you had prepared from the counter, setting it down next to you. Without a word, he picked up a spoon, his expression calm. He scooped some food from the bowl, and turned toward you with a faint smile.

"You know," he said, his voice dripping with a mixture of amusement and something darker, "I think you need a little help."

Before you could respond, he brought the spoon closer to your lips, his gaze unwavering. "Open up," he commanded softly, his tone leaving no room for refusal.

Your heart raced, instinctively pulling back. "I can feed myself," you protested, but the tremor in your voice betrayed your fear.

“Not today,” he replied, leaning closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours with unsettling intensity. “You’re going to let me feed you.”

“Look at it this way,” he said softly, his fingers brushing the side of your face. “It’s a way for you to make up for your bad behavior from this morning. All is forgiven now.” His tone was almost gentle, as if offering you a gift wrapped in his twisted logic.

Your breath caught in your throat. You knew what he meant, your resistance earlier, your small acts of defiance. They hadn’t gone unnoticed. Every decision you made, every hesitation, was another test to him, and now, by complying, you were wiping the slate clean. At least in his eyes.

You forced yourself to nod, your throat tight. "I’m glad everything’s okay now," you whispered, trying to match his calm tone, though the words felt hollow.

He smiled again, "That’s my girl," he murmured. 

"We’ll be fine as long as you keep behaving." He held the spoon near your lips, the savory scent mixing with the rising anxiety in your chest. You felt trapped, the weight of his control suffocating as the desire to resist clashed violently with the fear of what he might do if you refused.

"Just one bite," he urged, his voice deceptively gentle. "That’s all I ask. You might even like it."

You hesitated, the spoon hovering inches from your mouth. His breath brushed your skin, warm and suffocating, and despite every fiber of your being screaming to resist, you reluctantly parted your lips. He fed you the bite, his eyes lighting up with satisfaction as you chewed.

“Good girl,” he praised softly, his voice laced with twisted affection. “See? Not so bad, is it?”

You couldn’t meet his gaze, focusing instead on the way he savored your submission, each bite you took a victory for him. He continued feeding you, the act a power play more than an act of care. “Good girl,” he murmured again, his praise becoming a sickly sweet reminder of how much he enjoyed your obedience.

You swallowed the last bite, but before you could protest, he was already lifting another spoonful to your lips. "No more," you whispered, shaking your head. But he only smiled, unbothered by your plea.

“You’re not done yet,” he replied, his voice still calm but now carrying a subtle warning. “You need to eat. I won’t let you starve yourself.”

Each bite felt like a slow erosion of your autonomy, a surrender to the web of control he had wrapped around you. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he set the spoon down and wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“There. Good. Now, was that so hard?” he asked, his smile widening, a smug satisfaction radiating from him.

You could barely hold back the bile rising in your throat as he tilted his head, his eyes flashing with something dark and possessive. “Soon, you’ll see things my way.”

__________

The days blurred together in a suffocating routine after that morning. Each day, you played your part, becoming the perfect version of the person Jungkook wanted you to be, feeding into his twisted fantasy of love and control. You adapted, not out of choice, but out of survival, carefully treading the fine line between submission and manipulation.

Jungkook, on the surface, seemed content. Every morning, he’d wake you with soft kisses, his arms tight around you as he whispered promises of love. You’d smile, kiss him back, and play along, even when every touch made your skin crawl. Breakfast was always a quiet ritual, with him feeding you more often than not, his gaze watching your every move, ensuring you didn’t deviate from his expectations.

In the afternoons, he’d insist on spending time together, whether it was watching TV or simply lounging around. His arms were always around you, his touch never far. It was smothering, but you endured it, knowing that resistance would only tighten his grip. You began to flatter him, giving him small, calculated compliments, making him believe that you were starting to see things his way. Each word was carefully crafted, designed to earn his trust, to keep him from suspecting that behind your compliance was a growing determination to escape.

You started doing more for him, small acts of care that fed into his obsession. You made his favorite meals, dressed in clothes he picked out for you, and even initiated moments of affection, all while hiding the fear and anger that simmered beneath the surface. You needed him to believe you were falling in line, that you were happy, even when the chains around you grew tighter every day.

And he did believe it. The more you played into his fantasy, the more he relaxed. He started leaving you alone for short periods, his possessiveness loosening just enough to give you moments of freedom. But even then, you knew he was watching. There were cameras, there had to be. You could feel his presence, even when he wasn’t there.

Yet, despite the facade you maintained, the anger inside you grew. Every time he praised you for being his "good girl," every time he fed you like a child or held you too tight, it fueled the fire burning in your chest. You hated how easily he controlled your life, how he believed you were his to command.

But you also knew that anger wasn’t enough. If you were going to escape, you had to be smart. You needed to play the long game, to lull him into a sense of security. Every smile, every affectionate word, was a brick in the wall you were building between you and his suspicions. Slowly, carefully, you were laying the groundwork for your escape.

As the days passed, Jungkook grew more comfortable with your “submission.” He praised you often, told you how proud he was of how you were “adjusting” to his love. Each time he said it, your heart twisted, but you forced a smile, knowing that it was part of the plan. The more he believed in your compliance, the more likely he was to slip, to give you the opening you needed.

But for now, you remain trapped in the routine, your every move calculated, your words carefully chosen. The slivers of freedom he gave you were small, but they were enough for now. You knew that eventually, the trust you were building would be your key to escape. It had to be.

You sat on the couch, curled up under a soft blanket, your legs stretched out across Jungkook’s lap. He was working, as he often did these days, typing on his laptop with one hand while absentmindedly rubbing your feet and calf with the other. The quiet sound of his fingers on the keyboard and the gentle pressure of his touch were strangely soothing, but the tension in your chest refused to ease.

Your book, Gone Girl, lay open in your lap. It had been months since you’d had time to read for pleasure, back when your life was a whirlwind of school and juggling two jobs. Now, though, things were different. Your days were long, filled with a strange mixture of peace and suffocation, where the boundaries of control and submission were constantly shifting.

Jungkook had been working from home more often lately, his gaze flicking between you and his computer screen. He liked having you near, a constant presence that fed into his need to know where you were, what you were doing, at all times. You had grown accustomed to it, the way he monitored your movements even when his attention seemed elsewhere. But tonight, something was different. Maybe it was the quiet, or maybe it was the fact that he'd been in a particularly good mood recently, satisfied with how you were behaving.

You glanced at him over the top of your book, the glow of his laptop reflecting off his features. He looked calm, focused on his work. Now felt like the right time to bring it up. You’d been absent from school for weeks, your professors likely wondering where you had gone. But more importantly, your final exam was approaching. If you missed it, you wouldn’t pass the course you've fought sleepless for.

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. It wasn’t that you were afraid of asking, Jungkook rarely reacted harshly to your questions, but the idea of returning to school, even for an exam, meant the possibility of freedom. And you knew how he felt about that.

Still, you had to try.

“Babe,” you said softly, trying to keep your tone light and casual, “I’ve been thinking about school.”

His fingers paused on your leg, just for a second, before continuing their gentle massage. His eyes remained fixed on his screen, though you knew he was listening intently.

“What about school?” he asked, his tone even, though you sensed a hint of curiosity beneath it.

“I’ve been gone for a while now,” you continued carefully. “I still need to take my final exams at the end of the month if I want to graduate.”

There was a brief silence, the sound of his typing slowing to a stop. He finally looked at you, his dark eyes scanning your face as if trying to gauge your intentions.

“I thought we talked about this,” he said quietly, his hand tightening slightly around your calf. “School isn’t something you need to worry about anymore. You’re with me now.”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to stay calm. You couldn’t afford to push too hard. “I know, but graduating is important to me. It’s something I worked really hard for, and I just need one more year before I graduate. After that, I’ll be done.”

Jungkook’s expression didn’t change, but his grip on your leg remained firm. He seemed to consider your words, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the request. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, weighing the risk of letting you out of his sight, even for something as seemingly harmless as an exam.

“I don’t like the idea of you going back there,” he said finally, his voice soft but edged with tension. “Too many people. Too many distractions.”

“I’ll only go for the exam,” you promised, your voice gentle but firm. “I won’t stay longer than I need to. Just in and out. You can even drop me off and pick me up, if that makes you feel better.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his thumb idly rubbing small circles on your ankle. You could see the conflict in his eyes, his desire to give you what you wanted clashing with his need to control every aspect of your life.

Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll think about it,” he said, his voice a little more relaxed. “But I don’t want you getting any ideas. You know how much I care about you.”

“I know,” you whispered, relief washing over you even as a knot of anxiety twisted in your stomach. You had planted the seed. Now you just had to hope it would grow into an opportunity, one that you could use to finally reclaim a piece of your freedom.

__________

Three days had passed since that conversation, and the knot in your stomach had only tightened. The exam was fast approaching, and you could feel the weight of it looming over you, just as much as the constant, watchful presence of Jungkook. He hadn’t brought it up again, and you were too afraid to push the topic further just yet. But the clock was ticking, and you knew that soon, you’d have to.

Jungkook had been busier than usual lately, ever since his father passed away. The responsibilities that came with running the family business had doubled, and you could see the strain in his face, in the way he carried himself. He spent hours in his office, buried in paperwork, his attention consumed by the demands of the company. 

You sat on the armchair in the corner of his office, reading the book in your lap, though you hadn’t turned a page in the past thirty minutes. Instead, your eyes kept drifting toward him, watching the focused look on his face as he scribbled notes or typed away at his computer. The tension in the room was palpable, even though neither of you had said a word for the last hour.

Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair, the fatigue clear in his movements. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples, clearly feeling the pressure of everything on his shoulders. You knew he hated being questioned or distracted when he was like this, but you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Jungkook,” you said softly, careful to keep your tone gentle.

He didn’t look up right away, but you saw the slight tightening of his jaw, a telltale sign that he had heard you. After a moment, he placed his pen down and finally met your gaze.

“What is it sweetheart?” he asked, his voice calm but edged with exhaustion.

You swallowed hard, trying to gather your courage. “I know you’ve been thinking about it… and I appreciate it. But the exam is only a few days away. I really need to know what we’re going to do.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened slightly, but his expression remained controlled. “You don’t need to worry about the exam. You don’t need school anymore. I’m taking care of everything.”

You bit your lip, feeling the familiar frustration bubbling up inside you. “But I’ve worked so hard for this. I need to graduate, Jungkook. I can’t just... quit. You said you’d think about it.”

He let out a long breath, standing up and walking around his desk to where you sat. His eyes softened, but it didn’t comfort you. Instead, it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Princess,” he said gently, reaching out to cup your cheek, “I understand that this is important to you. But you don’t need that degree. You have me. I’ll take care of you. You don’t need to go back to that life.”

You pulled away slightly, shaking your head. “That’s not the point. I want to finish this. It’s something I’ve worked for.”

His gaze hardened, just a fraction, but enough for you to notice. “You need to stop thinking about what you want,” he said, his voice firm. “This is what’s best for you. Trust me.”

Your chest tightened as you looked at him, your frustration turning into something sharper, something closer to anger. You had done everything he asked. You had been patient, played the role of the compliant partner, all for this one moment of freedom. And now, he was taking that away too.

“I’ve been patient,” you said, your voice shaking with barely-contained frustration. “I’ve done everything you wanted. But you promised. You said you’d think about it.”

Jungkook’s expression remained unbothered, as though your words had no effect on him. “I did think about it,” he said, his voice cold. “And I’ve decided. You’re not going back to school. You’re staying here, where you belong.” He turned his back to you, walking back to his desk.

That was it. That was the moment everything broke.

Before you even had time to process the fury building inside you, your eyes locked onto the vase on the table next to the armchair. Your mind screamed at you to stop, but your body moved before you could think. In one swift motion, you grabbed the vase, the weight of it grounding you for just a split second before you swung it at him.

The vase hit him on the side of the head with a sickening crack.

Jungkook collapsed to the floor with a groan, his hand flying to his head as he struggled to process what had just happened. Blood seeped through his fingers, and his eyes flickered with shock as he looked up at you.

“Princess…” he rasped, his voice hoarse with confusion and disbelief. “What... what did you-”

You ran.

You bolted for the door, your heart pounding in your chest as you sprinted down the hallway, your mind a whirlwind of panic and adrenaline. The front door to the penthouse was open, a careless mistake on his part, a sliver of luck for you. You didn’t care about anything else anymore. You didn’t care about his control, or even the fear of what he would do if he caught you.

All you wanted was out. Out of this suffocating place, out of this twisted prison he had built around you.

Out of him.

You bolted for the door, heart pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears. The vase clattered to the floor behind you as you sprinted toward the elevator, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You didn’t think, there was no time for thinking. You just knew you had to get out. 

The hallway blurred as you ran, adrenaline surging through your veins. The elevator doors were open, another moment of luck in a twisted series of events. You threw yourself inside, slamming your hand against the button to close the doors as fast as possible. 

The elevator doors slid shut with a quiet hum, sealing you inside. Your hands trembled as you pressed the button for the lobby, willing the elevator to move faster. You had no idea how long it would take for Jungkook to recover, but you knew it wouldn’t be long before he came after you.

As the elevator descended, your chest tightened, each floor feeling like an eternity. You pressed yourself into the corner of the elevator, your whole body shaking as you tried to catch your breath. The reality of what you’d just done hit you all at once, crashing over you like a wave. 

You hit him. 

You hit Jungkook.

But you didn’t regret it. You couldn’t regret it. Not after everything he had done, keeping you trapped, controlling every part of your life.

You closed your eyes, feeling tears sting at the edges, but you fought them back. You didn’t have time to break down now. The elevator dinged softly as it reached the lobby, and you wiped your eyes quickly, forcing yourself to focus. The doors slid open, revealing the bright lights of the ground floor.

Freedom.

You stepped out, your legs weak beneath you, but you forced yourself to keep moving. People were walking past you in the lobby, completely unaware of the storm you had just escaped from upstairs. 

You had no plan, no phone, no money. Still, all that mattered was that you were out. Away from him.

And you weren’t going back.

You burst through the doors of the lobby and into the night, your legs carrying you without direction, just away. Away from Jungkook, away from the suffocating control, away from the penthouse that had been your prison for far too long. You ran blindly through the city streets, heart racing, breath shallow, your feet slamming against the pavement with each desperate step. The cool night air whipped against your face, but it did little to clear the panic clouding your mind.

You couldn’t stop. You couldn’t ask for help. Who would believe you? He was Jeon fucking Jungkook, one of the richest, one of the most powerful men. If you went to the authorities, they’d likely send you straight back to him. Money bought silence, it bought control, and you knew better than anyone just how tightly he held that control.

You needed to disappear. To vanish completely until he couldn’t find you, until he finally gave up. But how??

The thought of going back, of being caught, terrified you more than anything. You needed help. You needed money. That’s when you remembered the necklace hanging around your neck, the one Jungkook had given you. It was expensive, something rare and exclusive, probably worth a fortune. Maybe you could sell it, use the cash to disappear for a little while.

But first, you needed a place to stay. Somewhere safe, at least for the night. Your parents lived too far away. You couldn’t risk reaching out to them, not yet. The only person you could think of was Bora. Sweet, dependable Bora. She had always been there for you, and maybe, just maybe she’d still help you now.

But could you risk getting her involved? If Jungkook found out she helped you, she could get caught in the crossfire. The thought gnawed at you, but you didn’t have many options. Bora worked at the strip club, usually at this time of night. Maybe you could swing by, ask for some quick cash, and move on before Jungkook even had a chance to realize where you’d gone.

You stopped in your tracks, panting, your lungs burning from the nonstop sprint through the city. You bent over, hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath. “Breathe”, you told yourself. “Just breathe”.

As you straightened up, your eyes caught something pinned to a streetlight nearby. An old, wrinkled poster. Something familiar.

You took a step closer, squinting under the dim streetlight. The faded ink became clearer. It was a missing person report. Your missing person report. Your own face stared back at you, a photo from what felt like a lifetime ago.

Beneath your name, someone had scribbled something in jagged handwriting.

Rest in peace Angel.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Cold realization washed over you. I’m dead. Jungkook made sure of it.

The world tilted for a moment as the weight of what he had done finally hit you. Everyone thought you were gone, your family, your friends, anyone who might’ve come looking for you. They had already mourned you, accepted your death. No one was looking for you anymore. As far as the world was concerned, you didn’t exist.

He had erased you.

You staggered back, the noise of the city fading as you stared at the poster, at the brutal, final words scribbled beneath your name. Jungkook had planned this all along, trapping you in his world, and now, even if you ran, you had no identity to run with. 

But you had to run. And you had to survive. You had to find Bora, get enough money to keep moving. The thought of stopping, of letting him catch up to you, was unbearable.

You glanced around, panic rising again, your heart pounding louder than ever. The clock was ticking. You had to go.

You slowed down, heart still racing, trying to steady your breath as you kept moving toward the back of the club. The line stretched on, men jostling for position, but you weren’t going through the front. The bouncers, tall, muscular figures with sunglasses even at night, stood like sentinels at the door, arms crossed, keeping watch over the chaos. 

God, you hated this place. The memories here were bitter, nights spent working, enduring the leering stares, the unwanted touches, the crude jokes. But now, this was the only place you could turn to. The only person you had left was inside. 

You slipped down the alley, the familiar route you used to take when you worked here. The scent of cigarette smoke and alcohol clung to the air, a sharp contrast to the cool breeze brushing against your flushed skin.

You kept your head down, weaving through the crowd toward the back of the building. There was a secret door in the back, hidden from the public, where the staff would slip in and out during shifts. You didn’t have your key anymore, of course, but you remembered the routine. Girls always came out for smoke breaks here.

Your breath hitched as you reached for the door handle, hoping to slip in quietly, unnoticed. But before you could even touch it, the door swung open.

You stumbled back, heart leaping into your throat.

“Oh my god,” a voice muttered, and your eyes shot up to see one of the dancers, Sana, one of the regulars, blinking at you in surprise. She was dressed in her stage outfit, cigarette in hand, her eyes wide as she took you in.

“What the hell...?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in confusion. “Wait... is that-is that really you?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you grabbed her wrist, pulling her out of the doorway just enough to slip inside, keeping your face hidden as much as you could.

“Sana, I-I need to see Bora,” you whispered, your voice shaky and desperate. “Is she here tonight?”

Sana stared at you, her expression caught between disbelief and alarm. "Wait, wait, hold on-what's going on? You-you're supposed to be-"

“I know,” you cut her off, your voice urgent. “I can’t explain right now. Just... please. I need to see her.”

Sana hesitated for a moment, clearly confused, but then nodded slowly. “She’s inside, on stage. She should be finishing up soon.”

Relief surged through you, though it was mixed with the familiar dread of being in this place again. “Thank you,” you muttered before slipping past her and into the dimly lit hallway.

The familiar thrum of music filled your ears as you made your way down the narrow corridor, past the lockers and dressing rooms. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, perfume, and alcohol, and you could hear the muffled cheers of the crowd beyond the main stage.

You hovered near the dressing rooms, hiding in the shadows, waiting for Bora’s set to finish. Your heart raced with every second that passed, the fear that Jungkook might somehow track you here gnawing at you. You had no idea how much time you had before he realized you were gone, before he started searching.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally saw Bora walking off the stage, her usual confidence dimmed by exhaustion. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and glanced around, heading toward the dressing room. You stepped out from the shadows, your hands trembling.

"Bora."

Her head whipped around at the sound of your voice, her eyes widening as they landed on you. She froze, her face going pale. "Angel... You're-"

"I'm alive," you whispered, stepping closer. "But I need your help. Please, Bora, I don't have much time."

Her eyes darted around the room, panic flashing across her face as she processed the situation. She grabbed your arm, pulling you into the dressing room and slamming the door behind you. "What the hell happened to you? We all thought... we thought you were gone! A body, they found a body-everyone thinks you're dead!"

"I know," you whispered, your voice cracking. "It was Jungkook. He made it look like I was dead. I-I just escaped from him."

Bora's expression shifted from shock to anger. "That bastard. I knew something was off with him. But why come here? If he knows you're here, he's going to come after you. This place isn't safe!"

"I know, but I had nowhere else to go. I need money. I need to disappear, Bora."

She stared at you for a long moment, clearly torn between fear and the instinct to help you. Finally, she nodded, grabbing her purse from the counter. "Okay, okay... I’ll give you whatever cash I have on me. But you can’t stay here. He’ll find you."

You exhaled a shaky breath as she handed you a wad of bills. "Thank you. I won't stay long. I just need a head start."

Bora's eyes softened with concern as she stuffed more money into your hand. "You need to get far away from here. As far as you can."

You nodded, your hands trembling as you stuffed the cash into your pockets. "I will."

But even as you said the words, the lingering fear gnawed at you. How far could you really run from someone like Jungkook?

Bora’s eyes softened as she looked at you, the weight of everything hanging in the air between you. Before you could say anything else, she pulled you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around you in a way that made your chest tighten with emotion.

“Please be safe,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the muffled music from the club.

You held on to her for a moment longer, your own arms squeezing her back. It had been so long since anyone had hugged you like that—since anyone had shown you kindness without control attached to it. You blinked back the tears that threatened to spill, knowing you didn’t have time to break down. Not here. Not now.

“I’ll try,” you whispered back, your voice shaky. “Thank you, Bora. For everything.”

She pulled back, her hands lingering on your arms for a second before she let you go. “Don’t come back here. Don’t let him find you,” she said, her voice fierce but laced with worry. “Disappear. For good.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I will.”

Before you could make your way toward the door, Bora grabbed your arm again, her eyes scanning you up and down. “Wait,” she said firmly. “You can’t go out there like this. He’ll recognize you immediately. Everyone will.”

You looked down at yourself, your clothes, they were from a life Jungkook had tailored for you, a life that you needed to shed to blend in, to disappear. 

Bora was already moving, digging through her locker and pulling out a simple, dark outfit, one she usually wears going to work and back. “Here,” she said, shoving the clothes into your arms. “Change into this. It'll make it harder for anyone to spot you. Hurry. We don’t have much time.”

Without another word, you quickly pulled off your old clothes and slipped into Bora’s outfit. A dark pair of jeans, with a loose black hoodie and a warm black warm coat. It smelled a lot of perfume. You tied your hair back, glancing at yourself in the mirror.

Bora handed you a cap, adding the finishing touch. “There.” she said, a small, sad smile on her lips.

You gave her a grateful look, feeling your throat tighten. “Thank you,” you whispered again.

Bora pulled you in for another quick, tight hug. “Get out of here, okay? And don’t come back,” she repeated, her voice low and urgent. “He won’t stop if he finds out.”

You nodded, heart pounding as you finished dressing. “I won’t. I promise.”

With that, you headed toward the back exit. 

You had to keep moving. You couldn’t afford to stop.

You pulled the hoodie tightly over your cap, tucking your hair beneath the fabric as you prepared to leave. Your mind raced with one thought: you needed to find a motel. Just for the night, somewhere to lie low until you could sell the necklace.

Pushing open the back door, you stepped into the cool night air, but before you could take another step, a hand grabbed your arm roughly, slamming you against the brick wall of the alley.

"Where are you off to?" a low voice growled, eyes narrowing at you. 

"You're not Bora."

You froze, the shock rendering you speechless. The world blurred around you as you stared at the man who had pinned you. Panic surged through your veins until recognition hit you like a punch to the gut.

Jeong Jaehyun.

One of Jungkook’s closest friends. 

Your heart hammered in your chest as you kept your head down, desperately trying to hide your face. "No... I’m not," you mumbled quickly, trying to keep your voice steady. "I’m her friend. I wasn’t feeling well, so I was sent home."

Jaehyun’s eyes raked over you, suspicion flickering across his features. "You look familiar," he said slowly, his grip tightening for a brief moment.

Your stomach lurched, but you forced a tight smile. "Yeah, well... I work here. Probably seen me around. I really have to go now," you said, your voice barely masking the fear.

You slipped away from his grip, pulling the hoodie tighter around your face, praying he wouldn’t connect the dots.

"Wait-"

Before he could stop you, another voice called out from behind him.

"Jaehyun! Where the hell are you, man? What are you doing back here?"

A distraction.

Without wasting another second, you pushed the door open wide and bolted, your feet slamming against the pavement as you ran down the alley. You could hear Jaehyun calling out behind you, but you didn’t look back.

You couldn’t catch a break. Every time you thought you were one step ahead, something or someone dragged you right back into it. 

__________

Jungkook blinked, his vision swimming as the sharp pain in his head brought him back to the present. His fingers grazed the spot where the vase had hit him, and the warm trickle of blood running down his temple stung, but it wasn’t the pain that consumed him, it was the realization.

She hit me.

His princess, the one he had carefully protected, sheltered, loved, had just hit him and ran. The one he thought had finally understood their connection, their bond. She had betrayed him, and now she was gone.

He staggered to his feet, his breath coming in sharp bursts. The penthouse felt unnervingly quiet, the door slightly ajar, the echoes of her departure lingering like a slap to his face.

She ran.

The thought sent a fresh wave of fury through him. After everything he’d done for her, how he had protected her, made her feel safe, cared for her in ways no one else ever could, and she had the nerve to run?

His fist slammed against the wall, the plaster cracking under the pressure. His vision blurred, clouded by the dark haze of his anger. She thought she could escape him? That she could leave him after everything?

No.

She was his. She belonged to him, and she would always belong to him.

Jungkook stood still for a moment, letting the anger settle into something colder, more focused. He wiped the blood from his knuckles, smearing it across his fingertips before casually brushing it away. His mind was already racing through the next steps.

No matter how much he loved her, no matter how well he treated her, the thought of escape might flicker in her mind. But he had prepared for that. He wasn’t that naive. He wasn’t stupid.

In fact, he had been two steps ahead of her the entire time.

Jungkook reached into his desk drawer, his fingers brushing past papers and folders until he found what he was looking for- a small black device, barely larger than a key fob. He turned it over in his hand, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he thumbed the button on its side.

The tracker.

Weeks ago, when he’d first brought her into his world, he had planted a small tracking chip under her skin. A simple procedure. Harmless, unnoticed. She had no idea, of course. It was for her safety, for their safety. He couldn’t risk losing her.

The tiny chip, embedded beneath her skin in a place she would never think to check, allowed him to always know where she was. It was a precaution, one he had hoped he’d never need to use. But now? Now it was time to activate it.

Jungkook pressed the button on the device, watching as the screen lit up, a small blinking dot appearing on the map. He watched the blinking dot on the tracker screen, his expression calm, almost serene. She was running, heart pounding, mind probably racing with thoughts of escape. She thought she had outsmarted him, thought she had finally broken free.

Let her think that.

His fingers lightly traced over the small red dot on the screen, his smile widening. He could go after her now, catch her within the hour. But where was the fun in that? Where was the lesson? No, she needed to feel the weight of her decision, the consequences of trying to leave him. She needed to believe that freedom was within her reach, only to have it yanked away when he decided the time was right.

This wasn’t just about finding her. It was about showing her that she had never truly escaped. That she could run, hide, try to slip away into the cracks of the city, but he would always know where she was. Because she was his, and nothing could change that.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing on the blinking dot that represented her. He’d give her time, just enough to think she’d won. Let her scramble, desperate and afraid. Let her believe that she was outsmarting him, that she had carved out a sliver of freedom.

But in reality, she was playing a game where the rules had already been set, and he held all the pieces.

He could wait. After all, the longer she thought she was free, the sweeter it would be when he finally pulled her back into his world.

Let her run. Let her think she had won.

But when he decided it was time—he’d make sure she knew that freedom had never really been hers to take.

Jungkook wiped the blood from his temple, his head still throbbing from the blow, but his lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. 

“Run all you want, Princess,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and venomous, his fingers tightening around the edge of the desk as he steadied himself.

“I’ll always find you.”

[its-avalon-08]

can you write for max or carlos a fic where the reader is a billionaire and max or carlos is just a normal person with a 9-5 except that they don’t know reader is rich until she leaves her bank account open on her laptop or something similar? ❤️

money money money must be funny (cs55)

✦ pairing - carlos sainz x female!reader

✦ genre - carlos!not a driver, romance

Carlos Sainz wasn’t the type to snoop. He respected Y/N’s space—her home, her things, her boundaries. But today, as he casually walked into her apartment after work to wait for her, something caught his eye. Her laptop was on the kitchen counter, lid slightly ajar, and the screen had gone dark, but the faint hum of the device meant it was still on.

He didn’t mean to look. He really didn’t. But as he reached over to close it, a notification pinged, revealing her bank account summary. The number on the screen wasn’t just large—it was staggering. It looked more like a jackpot figure than an average person’s savings account.

Carlos froze. His thoughts swirled like a whirlwind. Was this even real? Had she won the lottery? Was Y/N secretly a crypto genius?

A loud buzz from his phone brought him back to reality—Y/N had texted that she’d be back in an hour. His first instinct was to laugh it off. She was probably just babysitting some wealthy CEO’s account or something. But the more he thought about it, the more the pieces started to fit.

That expensive bag she’d said was “on sale”? The first-edition watch she gave him for his birthday? And the sleek new car she drove, claiming it was a "company lease"?

He shut the laptop and paced around the apartment, fighting the urge to overthink. Why hadn’t she told him? Did she not trust him? Was she afraid of how he’d react?

When Y/N walked in, all smiles and carrying takeout, Carlos decided to play it cool.

“Hey, cariño,” she greeted, setting the bags down on the counter. “Hope you weren’t bored waiting for me.”

“Not at all,” he said, forcing a smile. “How was your day?”

“The usual. Meetings, emails, surviving on coffee. Yours?”

Carlos shrugged. “Not bad. I ran into something interesting, though.”

“Oh?” she asked, unpacking the food.

“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly, leaning against the counter. “I was browsing online earlier. You know, just random stuff. Came across this site that sells luxury bags. That brand you have—you said it was on sale, right?”

Y/N’s hands froze for a millisecond before she quickly recovered. “Uh, yeah. Got lucky, I guess. Why?”

Carlos tilted his head, pretending to think. “Just curious. Even on sale, they’re pretty pricey. Like… really pricey.”

She chuckled nervously. “Well, it was a one-time splurge. A treat-yourself moment.”

“Hmm,” he said, letting it drop—for now.

Later, while they were eating, he casually gestured to his watch. “You know, my coworkers keep asking me where I got this. I mean, it’s not every day you see something like this.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly. “Really? Well, you deserve nice things.”

“True,” he said with a small smirk. “But I don’t think I could ever afford something like this on my own.”

She looked down at her food, her fork hovering mid-air. “Carlos, I—”

“You know,” he interrupted, trying to sound playful, “you never told me how you got it. Or that car. Or… well, a lot of things, actually.”

Y/N’s eyes darted up to meet his. “What are you trying to say?”

Carlos leaned back, giving her a pointed look. “Nothing. Just making conversation.”

She laughed nervously, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, I guess I’m just good at finding deals.”

“Right,” he said, dragging out the word. “Must be a talent of yours.”

The rest of the evening passed in a strange tension. Carlos didn’t push further, but the weight of unspoken questions lingered between them. Every now and then, he’d make an offhand comment—about the high-tech gadgets in her apartment or the exclusive restaurants she “managed to snag reservations for.”

By the time Y/N excused herself to shower, Carlos was left alone with his thoughts again. He wasn’t angry, not really. But he was confused. Why hide something like this? Did she think he’d judge her?

As the sound of running water filled the apartment, Carlos sat on the couch, staring at his watch. He traced the edges of it with his thumb, his mind racing.

He loved her—he truly did. But for the first time since they’d been together, he wasn’t sure he fully knew her.

--

Carlos’s birthday started like any other day—quiet, unassuming, and, as far as he was concerned, just another regular weekday. But when he walked into Y/N’s apartment that evening, he realized how wrong he’d been.

The entire living room was transformed. Gold and black balloons floated in clusters, streamers lined the walls, and a massive “Happy Birthday, Carlos” banner stretched across the ceiling. The dining table was set with a feast fit for a Michelin-starred restaurant—complete with candles, a perfectly plated cake, and his favorite wine.

“You did all this?” Carlos asked, his eyes wide as he took it all in.

Y/N emerged from the kitchen, beaming, wearing a sleek dress that looked straight out of a fashion magazine. “Surprise!”

Carlos couldn’t help but smile. “You didn’t have to go this far, cariño.”

“Of course, I did,” she said, walking over to him and planting a kiss on his cheek. “You deserve the best.”

He took a deep breath, overwhelmed by the effort she’d gone to. But the gifts sitting on the table caught his attention—each one wrapped immaculately in expensive-looking paper.

“Are those… all for me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She grinned. “Open them and see.”

He started unwrapping them one by one. First, a designer leather jacket. Then, a limited-edition pair of sneakers he’d mentioned in passing months ago. And finally, a watch—sleek, elegant, and undoubtedly expensive.

Carlos held it up, speechless. “Y/N… this is—”

“Do you like it?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

“Like it?” he said, shaking his head. “This must’ve cost a fortune.”

“It’s worth it,” she said softly. “You’re worth it.”

Carlos pulled her into a hug, his mind racing. As they swayed gently, his voice was low but teasing. “You know, between the jacket, the sneakers, and this watch… you’re starting to spoil me. I might get used to it.”

She laughed nervously, her face buried in his chest. “Well, it’s your birthday. You deserve to be spoiled.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands still resting on her waist. “Y/N,” he said, his tone light but inquisitive, “how do you afford all this? I mean, between the car, the gifts, and—well, everything. It doesn’t exactly scream ‘9-to-5.’”

Her smile faltered for a second. “I… budget well,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

Carlos tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly but still kind. “Budget well? You’re buying things most people would save for years to afford. That’s some serious budgeting.”

“I just… know how to find deals,” she said quickly.

“Deals, huh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Like the kind that let you buy a car worth more than most people’s houses?”

Her laugh was more forced this time. “Carlos, come on, it’s not like that.”

He didn’t push, not yet. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her again, holding her close. “You know,” he said softly, his chin resting on her head, “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About how generous you are. How thoughtful. How you somehow always manage to outdo yourself.”

“That’s just because I love you,” she murmured.

“And I love you too,” he said, his voice warm. “But you don’t have to go overboard, you know. I’d still love you if you didn’t get me a watch that probably costs more than my rent.”

She tensed slightly in his arms, and he felt it.

“It’s just…” he continued, his tone deliberately casual, “I can’t help but wonder. You must have some serious savings to pull all this off.”

“Well, I—”

“Or maybe,” he said, a hint of playfulness in his voice, “you’re secretly a illionaire.”

Relaxed she went, “Yeah, exactly.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them. Her body went rigid, and she immediately pulled back, her eyes wide with panic. “I mean—wait—no—”

Carlos’s brows shot up. “Oh.”

“Carlos, I didn’t mean—”

“Y/N,” he said gently, placing his hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay. Just… take a deep breath.”

She did, her hands trembling slightly. “I-I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

“So it’s true?” he asked softly. “You’re… rich?”

She hesitated, then nodded, her eyes brimming with uncertainty. “Yes. But it’s not like you think. I didn’t want it to change how you see me.”

Carlos’s expression softened. “Cariño, why would it change how I see you?”

“Because… people treat me differently when they know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted you to love me for me, not for my money.”

He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. “Y/N, I fell in love with the woman who makes me laugh until my stomach hurts. The one who listens to me ramble about football and surprises me with my favorite snacks. Not the size of your bank account.”

Her eyes searched his, still uncertain. “You’re not mad?”

“I’m not mad,” he assured her. “A little surprised, sure. Maybe a bit hurt you didn’t tell me sooner. But I get it.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice cracking. “I should’ve told you.”

He smiled, pulling her back into his arms. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“No more pretending your gifts are ‘on sale.’ You’re a terrible liar.”

She laughed, the tension finally breaking. “Deal.”

--

The living room was bathed in a warm, golden glow from the lamps as Carlos and Y/N cuddled on the couch. Her head rested against his chest, and his arm was wrapped securely around her shoulders. The cake sat half-eaten on the coffee table, alongside empty plates and glasses.

Carlos pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his voice soft as he broke the comfortable silence. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Y/N murmured, tracing patterns on his shirt with her fingers.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked, his tone gentle but curious. “About… everything?”

Y/N stiffened slightly in his arms but relaxed when he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. She sighed, her breath warm against his chest.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to,” she began quietly. “I just… I’ve had bad experiences before.”

Carlos frowned, his hand moving in soothing circles on her back. “What kind of experiences?”

She pulled back slightly to look at him, her eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and sadness. “People have used me for my money, Carlos. Pretended to care about me just because they wanted access to my lifestyle, my connections. It’s happened more times than I’d like to admit.”

Carlos’s expression softened, his heart aching for her. “Y/N…”

“It’s not just romantic relationships,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “Friends, too. People I thought I could trust would suddenly start asking for favors, for loans they never intended to repay. Or they’d make comments, subtle digs, like I didn’t deserve what I had because I was born into it.”

Carlos tightened his hold on her, resting his chin on her head. “I’m so sorry you went through that. You didn’t deserve it.”

“I started to feel like no one saw me, you know?” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “It was always about what I could give them, not who I was. So, when I met you, I just… I didn’t want to risk it. I didn’t want you to see me differently.”

Carlos was silent for a moment, his thoughts swirling. Finally, he tilted her chin up so she could meet his eyes. “Y/N, I’m not those people. I don’t care about your money, or what you can buy, or any of that. I care about you. The person who makes me laugh, who’s always there for me, who’s just… you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she gave him a small, shaky smile. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

He wiped away a stray tear with his thumb, his gaze unwavering. “I know it’s hard, letting someone in. But I want you to know, you don’t have to hide anything from me. Okay?”

She nodded, her smile growing a little stronger. “Okay.”

Carlos leaned down and kissed her gently, pouring all his love and reassurance into the moment. When they pulled apart, he gave her a teasing grin.

“Although, I do have to say, I feel a little cheated. All this time, I’ve been paying for dinner when you could’ve been spoiling me instead.”

Y/N burst out laughing, swatting his chest. “Oh, so now you want to be spoiled?”

He chuckled, pulling her closer. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to the occasional fancy dinner. But honestly? I’d take ramen with you on the couch over anything else.”

She smiled, her heart swelling with gratitude and love. “You’re too good to be true, Carlos.”

He kissed her forehead, his voice soft. “So are you, cariño. So are you.”

[parkitrighthere]

The Black Orchid Project

Pairing: billionaire CEO!Jeon Jungkook x Secretory!Reader Genre: Dark Romance, Mystery, Thriller Word Count: 19k Trigger warning: This chapter contains morally grey characters, toxic characters, dark romance, trauma, violence, mentions of murder, death, and conspiracy. Reader discretion is advised. Summary: Jungkook is the enigmatic CEO of a major conglomerate with a haunting secret—he can hear everyone’s thoughts. But when Y/N becomes his new personal secretary, she’s the only person whose thoughts remain silent to him. Intrigued and unsettled, Jungkook is drawn to the mystery she presents, not realizing that their connection will unravel secrets neither of them are prepared to face. a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv. The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support. a/n: So, I finally posted. Yeah, I know, shock of the century, right? You were probably out here cursing my name like, 'Where the heck have you been?' Well, I guess I just decided not to post this time. Don’t ask me why, I don’t even know. But hey, I’m sorry for that. I know, I say sorry a lot, it’s like my default setting at this point. But I swear, I’m really going to try and post more. I promise. Maybe. Also, a super huge shoutout and a massive thank you to my absolute favorite person @closer-to-jungkook. She beta-read this mess for me, and gave me so many amazing insights, but guess what? I didn’t do a single thing with them because, you know, I’m a failure like that. So, yeah, basically I let her down as my beta reader. Sorry, girl. But next time, I swear, I’ll actually listen and make you proud... unless I forget, again, in which case... whoops. Anyway, love you guys, and I’ll try not to disappear again... maybe.

PROLOGUE MASTERLIST 02

CHAPTER TITLE: Work, Words, and Wrecks

You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, your hands gripping the edges of the table, knuckles white as you tried to appear composed. But your patience was wearing thin. He was overreacting, making a mountain out of nothing. Sure, you’d made a mistake—who hadn’t?—but this? This was ridiculous. What was his deal with the room’s capacity? Why on earth was he so bothered about having more than four people in a room? Seriously, what kind of control freak rule was that? You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Was he scared of crowds or something? Honestly, with his attitude, he should be. If he kept ticking people off like this, one day, someone might snap—and if there were enough people, they’d form a mob. The thought almost made you snort, but you swallowed it down, biting your cheek. It was a silly theory, but it was better than trying to untangle the nonsense of his rules.

The meeting dragged on. Time seemed to crawl as if the clock itself was protesting against the sheer monotony of the discussion. It hadn’t been long since it started, but to you, it already felt like you’d been trapped in this room for days. You lost count of the times his gaze—no, his glare—scorched into you. Each glance filled with condescension that felt like a slap across the face.

He glared at you again. His soft, doe-like eyes narrowed, dark and piercing, with a keenness that made you shrink back slightly. His jaw tightened, the muscle jumping under his skin as he ground his teeth. You flinched instinctively, your body betraying you with a subtle jerk, as if bracing for impact, suddenly aware of how small you felt under his scrutiny. Your hands clenched in your lap, fingers feeling like they might snap, as you tried to focus anywhere else.

You quickly averted your gaze, your eyes darting around the room, desperate for an escape.  Your eyes landed on Taehyung. He leaned back casually in his chair, one arm draped casually over the backrest, his long fingers drumming against the table in a slow, lazy rhythm. As soon as he felt your gaze, his lips curled into a subtle smirk. He raised his brows and blinked at you—once, deliberately.

You felt your face heat, and not from embarrassment, but frustration. God, all these men are insane. You clenched your fists tighter, nails digging into your palms to calm yourself.  You swore they all had some kind of mental dysfunction. Jungkook with his silent rage, Taehyung with his infuriating charm—maybe Jimin was the only sane one in this room besides you.

You sighed, shifting in your seat again, your foot tapping nervously against the floor. Mental health courses exist for a reason, you thought bitterly, your gaze flickering between Jungkook’s scowl and Taehyung’s irritating grin. Maybe they should sign up for all of them.

 As your thoughts spiralled, you dared a glance at him… again. Only to catch the faintest twitch of his brow—precise, calculated. It wasn’t just anger in his expression; it was something darker, something… personal? And it scared you, even if you’d never admit it.

The moment you had been dreading finally came. The meeting was over.

Chairs screeched against the floor as everyone pushed back from the table. The sound grated on your nerves, but you rose from your seat anyway, hands trembling, legs wobbling as though they might give out beneath you.

 Your breath hitched, shallow and fast, a knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. Your heart pounded against your ribs, a viscous thud that made your chest ache.  Was this fear? Anxiety? You couldn’t tell anymore, but it clawed at you, gnawing at your insides like a predator circling its prey. You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to calm yourself, but the uneasy tremor in your chest refused to fade.

You risked another glance at him, keeping your gaze low, peeking through your lashes, a fleeting, nervous look that you immediately regretted.  His gaze locked onto you, soft yet paradoxically so sharp and firm, as if he could see right through you. The weight of his stare felt like a physical force pressing against your temple. You quickly looked away but it was too late.

 Your throat tightening as your heart slammed against your ribs. But it didn’t matter—his eyes stayed on you, burning holes into the side of your head like he could feel every breath you took.

There was something in the way he looked at you—a mix of curiosity and disdain that made your skin crawl, like you were an unsolved puzzle he hated having to deal with. It was as though he were studying you, dissecting you piece by piece. He looked at you like he couldn’t stand the thought of breathing the same air as you, as if being in the same room as you was a personal insult he couldn’t forgive. The corner of his mouth twitched, but not in kindness. A cold, predatory smirk curled his lips, one that made your blood run cold.

His soft brown boba eyes never left you.

And then he smiled. Cold, shrill, and entirely without warmth. A smile that dripped with obnoxiousness and delight, as though he was basking in your unease, feeding off it like it gave him some twisted satisfaction.

 You weren’t sure what scared you more—the venom in his gaze or the fact that you couldn’t look away, no matter how much you wanted to.

"Jungkook," Seokjin’s voice cut through the fragile silence like a gentle breeze, calm and soothing.

Jungkook’s head snapped toward Seokjin, and in an instant, everything about him changed.

 His shoulders, tense and rigid moments ago, relaxed, and his piercing glare melted away, replaced by something soft—gentle, even. His lips curved into a smile, one so sweet and genuine it left you completely dumfounded. You blinked, your mouth falling open in shock.

What the hell?

Your eyes widened,  as you stared at him, disbelief etched across your face.  How... how is this possible? This was the same man who had spent the entire meeting glaring daggers at you, exuding nothing but cold enmity. How could someone so rude, heartless, and obnoxiously infuriating smile like that? It didn’t make sense. It felt like a trick, some cruel joke the universe was playing on you. But there it was—his smile, warm and dazzling, as if he hadn’t spent the past hour glaring at you like you were dirt beneath his shoe.  And now? Now he looked like a painting come to life—a vision of warmth and beauty that shouldn’t belong to someone so cruel.

Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed the faint crinkle at the corners of his eyes, the way his smile softened his entire face. For a brief, fleeting moment, you found yourself mesmerized. A small, traitorous voice whispered in the back of your mind, He’s stunning. Beautiful. Perfect. And he was. That smile made him look like something out of a dream, his dark orbs soft and almost shy under the fluorescent light. He was cute too, you realized, in that infuriating way that made you want to scream. And hot? God, no one could dare bring up the concept of hotness without mentioning him.

How can someone so horrible look this… beautiful? The whisper in the back of your mind grew louder. This man is the definition of beauty.

Your cheeks flushed at the thought, and you shook your head quickly, breaking free from whatever spell he’d cast. No. Absolutely not. Don’t go there. You shook your head slightly, muttering a quiet mantra in your head. No, no, no. He’s an idiot. A rude, wicked bastard. Stop it. This is the same guy who’s made your day a living hell. Remember that. But it was hard to ignore the way your heart raced, or the strange flutter in your chest.

Jungkook didn’t respond to Jin right away. Instead, he moved. His long strides carried him around the table, each step smooth and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. He stopped beside Jin, his posture instantly relaxed as Seokjin patted his shoulder in a way that felt natural, familiar.

Jin began to speak again, his lips parting as if to offer some kind of reassurance, but Jungkook cut him off before he could finish.

“Hyung! Let’s go to my office,” Jungkook said, his voice low and soft, almost tender. “We’ll talk there?” His voice was softer than you’d heard it, polite and calm. It was so different from the cold, harsh tone he had threw your way.

You blinked, staring at the two of them as your jaw threatened to hit the floor again. This can’t be real. Him? Soft? It was like watching a lion purr—a sight so contradictory it didn’t feel real. His tone was polite, his demeanour respectful—words you would never have associated with the man five minutes ago

Your eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, struggling to make sense of what you were seeing. Jungkook, the same man who had made your day a living hell, now stood before Seokjin like an obedient younger brother. It was unsettling, to say the least.

He wasn’t just polite—he was soft. Gentle, even.

You couldn’t stop staring. The way he tilted his head slightly when he spoke to Jin, the way his hands relaxed at his sides, no longer tense or clenched. It was so different from the version of him you knew, it almost felt like you were looking at a completely different person.

Your fingers twitched at your side, itching to pinch yourself. Maybe you were dreaming. Or hallucinating. Because the Jungkook you knew? He didn’t do soft. And yet, here he was, proving you wrong with every breath. The man who had made it his mission to make you feel two inches tall was suddenly soft and sweet with Seokjin? It didn’t make sense.

But the warmth in his expression lingered, and for reasons you couldn’t explain, it made your chest tighten. He was more than what you’d seen so far… wasn’t he?

Jin’s face lit up with a bright smile as he nodded at Jungkook. Turning away, he gave Namjoon and Taehyung a light nudge to follow him.

Namjoon responded with a quick nod, a broad grin spreading across his face as he moved to join them.

Taehyung, however, didn’t move. Instead, he slumped further into his chair, crossing his arms loosely and leaning back with a loud, exaggerated sigh. His lips pressed into a pout as he stared at the ceiling like the very idea of moving was a personal offense. It was no secret that Jeon Enterprises and Kim Enterprises were very close; both companies worked hand in hand. Even Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung went to the same school and college together. Their entire childhood and teenage years were spent together, and they were still together. All three of them were always in the news, and always together too. Jungkook knew Taehyung like the back of his hand along with his antics.

Namjoon glanced over, eyebrows furrowing in that “here we go again” way of his as he caught sight of Taehyung’s antics. “Seriously?” he asked, his tone half amused, half exasperated. His hands found their way to his hips, as he watched Taehyung flap his arms against the chair’s armrests.

Taehyung raised his hand in the air, palm out, as if announcing something grand. “No!”  he exclaimed, dragging the word out as he slowly pushed himself up from his seat, slowly, deliberately, making it as dramatic as possible before turning to Seokjin. “I won’t, hyung. I refuse.”

Seokjin didn’t react right away. He merely tilted his head, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, making it clear he wasn’t impressed. His lips pressed into a thin line as he let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he was trying very hard not to roll his eyes. His gaze shifted to Namjoon, wordlessly asking, Is this brat for real?

Namjoon only shrugged, an almost conspiratorial grin spreading across his face, as if he found the whole thing more entertaining than annoying. . They both turned their attention back to Taehyung, who didn’t care—if anything, their reactions only fueled his theatrics.  "NO," Taehyung declared, his voice firm, though his lips twitched with the hint of a smile.

“What now?” Seokjin asked finally, his voice calm, dangerously calm, but the words that tumbled out were tight. It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be—it was the kind of calm that warned you not to push your luck. His piercing eyes bored into Taehyung, sharp and calculating, a reminder that behind the soft features was a mind you didn’t want to cross.  The sharp edge to it made you flinch, even though the question wasn’t directed at you.

The tension in the room shifted as even Taehyung hesitated for a second, his hand dropping to his side as he shifted under Jin’s obdurate stare. But within minutes he was back to his usual self.

You stood in the corner, half-forgotten, watching the scene unfold as if you were invisible. For a moment, it felt like you were intruding on a private family argument. They were so lost in their little world that none of them seemed to notice you lingering.  The ridiculousness of the scene was almost enough to make you forget the tension lingering in the air. Almost.

Seokjin’s calm demeanour held stable as he waited for Taehyung’s next move, the silence stretching just long enough to make even you hold your breath.

But Taehyung, being Taehyung, jabbed his finger in Jungkook's direction without even sparing him a glance. “He didn’t invite me! Just you, hyung. Just you,” he said, voice laced with mock hurt. Namjoon sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as he shook his head, but a soft smile tugged at his lips. How could he stay mad? Taehyung was his little brother, and no matter how ridiculous the stunt, even when they bordered on absurd, he couldn’t help but find it endearing.

Taehyung’s arms crossed over his chest, his pout deepening as he stuck his bottom lip out, eyes narrowing as he watched Seokjin expectantly.

“An invitation? Really? You want an invitation?” Seokjin asked, his voice flat and deadpan, like he couldn’t believe he was even entertaining this ridiculous request. “What is this, a wedding? You want calligraphy and wax seals?”

Taehyung’s pout deepened, his gaze shifting dramatically to the side as he huffed. "Please would do," His voice a mix of childish demand and mock offense, his eyes flicking to Seokjin for any sign of approval.

 “A proper invite,” he huffed. “With manners. A simple please.”

Jimin couldn’t hold back his laugh, it came out bright and loud, like he’d just heard the funniest joke. "What?!" he snorted, stepping forward with an amused glint in his eyes.

 His laughter only grew as he straightened, wiping a fake tear from his eye before stepping toward Taehyung. “From Jungkook? Oh, Tae, you’re delusional.” he said, his voice a mockingly sweet coo.

Taehyung’s brow twitched, and he shoved Jimin away, glaring at him. “Don’t call me delusional,” he snapped. “And stop laughing. It’s not that funny.”

Jimin, still laughing, straightened up and threw an arm around Taehyung’s shoulders. “Oh, but it is, Tae-Tae,” he teased, dragging out the nickname with enough sugar to cause cavities.

Taehyung immediately shoved him off. “Don’t call me that!” he barked, though his glare wavered when Jimin stumbled backward, his laughter echoing in the room.

“Let’s be real,” Jimin said, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “Jungkook saying please? You’ve got better odds of him baking us cupcakes with love letters on top.”

Seokjin watched the entire scene unfold with a quiet sigh, his arms falling to his sides as he shook his head. “Bloody idiots,” he muttered under his breath, though his eyes betrayed the fondness he felt for them all.

Jungkook, who had been leaning against the wall with the air of someone far too cool to care, quirked an eyebrow. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. The faint smirk on his lips said it all: “Not happening.”

“See?” Jimin said, gesturing toward Jungkook with a wide grin, as if the smirk was proof enough of what he’d been saying.

Taehyung huffed, rolling his eyes as he glared at Jungkook. "He’s insufferable." he muttered, his voice flat but dripping with monotony. He threw the words out with the kind of disinterest that only Taehyung could manage, as though even arguing was beneath him.

“Always has been,” Jimin agreed cheerfully, giving Taehyung a playful pat on the shoulder.

“You want an invite?” Seokjin deadpanned, cutting through the noise like a knife. “Fine. Jungkook, invite him.”

Jungkook didn’t even look up. “No.”

The room fell silent for a beat before Jimin broke into another fit of laughter. “I told you!” he howled, practically doubling over again. “That guy would rather eat his shoe than say the p-word.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Taehyung muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

Jimin grinned, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “What’s the matter, Tae? Expecting something special from him? Maybe a song, a serenade, flowers—”

“Shut up,” Taehyung snapped, his face turning red as he swatted at Jimin His glare faltering just enough to reveal a flicker of amusement behind his annoyed facade.

Namjoon, trying to keep it together, clamped a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed laughter. Seokjin did the same, clearing his throat to hide the grin threatening to break free. You couldn’t hold back either, a soft laugh slipping from your lips. The sound of it made everyone snap their heads in your direction, and you immediately went still.

“Oh, for the love of—” Taehyung groaned, standing up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly as he shoved it back. “This is ridiculous. Forget it. I’m not playing this game.”

“You’re still mad, aren’t you?” Jimin pressed, a laugh already escaping as he took a step back, clearly enjoying pushing Taehyung’s buttons.

“Like I care!” Taehyung shot back, his hands gesturing wildly before he turned on his heel. He glared at Jungkook one last time. “Who’d want to spend time with a jerk like him anyway?”

You couldn’t help but agree, nodding your head. It was truly, genuinely, sincerely, honestly the most truthful statement you'd heard all day. Even Jungkook chuckled at Taehyung's behaviour, and your gaze snapped back to Jungkook. You stared at him in disbelief; you never thought you'd see this man smiling. Yet here he was, standing in all his glory, proving you wrong.  Jungkook? Laughing? Relaxed? It was like spotting a unicorn in the wild. For the first time, he didn’t look like the insufferable boss you were growing to despise. He looked...earth-shatteringly handsome. You cursed under your breath, clenching your fists to keep from staring too long.

It made you feel like your brain was short-circuiting. Here was this asshole of a man, acting like he was above it all, and yet… he was smiling. It made him look almost… normal.

Why was he so ridiculously handsome? He was a jerk, a complete ass, yet... there was something about him. He was perfect boyfriend material, especially with those tattoos. You'd seen them in magazines, but you wouldn't mind seeing them in real life.

He was a jerk, but otherwise, he was perfect boyfriend material, especially with those tattoos. You'd seen them in magazines, but you wouldn't mind seeing them in real life.

You shook your head abruptly, as if physically trying to dislodge the thought. Nope. Absolutely not. Stop it.

Why were you thinking all this nonsense?

Because no matter how annoyingly perfect he looked in that moment—relaxed, smirking, and effortlessly magnetic—you knew better. He wasn’t your type. Not even close. You were way too smart to fall for someone as much of a piece of shit as he was.

As soon as your eyes met Jungkook’s, your heart dropped into your stomach.  Your legs wobbled, the ground beneath you suddenly felt unstable. You felt like the world had stopped.  The only thing keeping you upright was the edge of the table you leaned against, gripping it so tightly your knuckles turned white. It was like he had forgotten you were even there, but now that he remembered... you were in trouble.

Your thoughts were a mess, a rush of panic flooding your veins. Please, don't fire me. Please don't fire me, you repeated over and over in your mind. His stare made you feel like a sheep waiting to be devoured by a wolf—helpless and small.

Jungkook opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Jimin’s voice cut through, loud but tensed. "Why are you still standing here?" he asked, his eyes darting nervously between you and Jungkook. "I'm sure you have work to do."

You nodded quickly, too quickly, your head bobbing furiously in agreement.

“What work, Jimin?” Jungkook snapped, his voice low and brimming with frustration. “She’s fired,” he declared, sending a shiver down your spine. His words felt like a physical blow, the weight of them crushing your chest. You could barely hear the rest of his sentence as panic drowned out everything else—I've had enough of her…

What to do now?

Cry, a voice whispered in the back of your head.

Jimin, however, wasn’t having any of it. “Enough, Jungkook!” he shot back, his voice hard and commanding. The sharpness in Jimin’s words was like a shield between you and Jungkook’s anger. You could see the way Jungkook’s expression shifted—he was still seething, but Jimin left no room for argument.

“She isn’t fired, and it’s final,” Jimin said. You could see the muscles in his jaw twitching as he tried to control his temper.

Jungkook opened his mouth to retort, but Jimin cut him off with a simple wave of his hand, motioning for you to leave. You didn’t need to be told twice. You bolted from the conference room, not even daring to look back. You weren’t sure whether to be more terrified of Jungkook or grateful to Jimin. You knew you’d messed up—it was your fault—but Jimin had chosen to take your side, and you couldn’t understand why.

You sprinted down the hall toward the elevator. Your hands trembled as you jabbed—no, banged—the elevator button for the 26th floor. The wait felt agonizingly long.

When the elevator finally dinged open, you stumbled out, half-running to your desk. Collapsing into your chair, you let out a shaky breath and buried your face in your arms on the desk. Your head fell onto your desk with a loud thud.

What had just happened?

God, your first day almost became your last.

You took a deep, steadying breath and pushed yourself upright, gripping the edge of your desk to ground yourself. This isn’t the time to wallow, you thought, brushing your hair back from your face with trembling fingers. You couldn’t afford to crumble now.

You can’t mess up again, you reminded yourself, wiping a hand over your face. Jimin might’ve saved you today, but luck won’t always be there neither… he. Luck was fleeting. It wasn’t something you trusted. Not with your history. You let out a dry laugh under your breath—luck and you were like oil and water. You were the ultimate symbol of bad luck, and that delightfully beautiful director of Jeon Enterprises had simply taken pity on you. Yes, it wasn’t luck. It was Jimin’s mercy, and you couldn’t count on it happening twice. Especially not when your boss—the arrogant bastard himself—was likely already sharpening his knives for round two.

The thought of Jungkook—his dark, piercing gaze—still lingered in your mind, but you forced yourself to focus. He was a devil, no doubt, and you... you were just the unlucky fool who happened to cross his path.

You couldn't afford to mess up again. Play it safe, you told yourself. Do your job right and keep your head down. You couldn’t give him another reason to unleash his wrath.

Your eyes fell to the stack of files in front of you, and a sinking feeling hit you hard in the stomach. The pile seemed to grow taller with each breath you took. The next meeting was only thirty minutes away

You glanced at the files scattered across your desk. Focus, you reminded yourself, slapping your cheeks lightly to snap out of it. The next meeting was in thirty minutes, and you didn’t have the luxury of time to curse your misfortune or that insufferable man.

Your eyes darted over the papers, frustration bubbling up as you began sifting through them. The previous secretary—whoever they were—had left behind a tangled mess. A spectacularly awful mess.

 How was this even possible?

You could almost feel your blood pressure rise as you examined the glaring errors.  The deadlines were completely out of sync with the client’s expectations, the budget allocations were so far off it was laughable, and one section even referenced an entirely different project altogether. If this wasn’t fixed in time for the meeting, it would be a complete disaster, and you were the one who’d have to face the consequences.

“This is a joke,” you muttered. You grabbed a pen, tapping it furiously against the table as your brain raced to come up with a plan.

Half an hour. That’s all you had to fix this disaster before you had to present it to a room full of people, including him.

"Fuck you! Whoever you are." you muttered under your breath, pushing your sleeves up, ignoring the beads of sweat forming on your forehead. Get it together, you scolded yourself. “This isn’t rocket science.” Your voice cracked slightly as you muttered the words aloud, as if hearing them would calm the storm raging inside you.

You grabbed the laptop, pulling up emails and client notes to cross-check the project details. The keyboard clacked furiously under your hands. Your brows furrowed in concentration, your lips pressed into a tight line. You clicked open the soft copy of the file, eyes scanning the screen quickly.

You stole a glance at the clock, and your heart nearly stopped. Twenty minutes left. Fuck.

The dull throb behind your temples was growing each passing minute, but you didn’t have the luxury to slow down. Tears? Not an option. You didn’t have time for that. Not when your whole career was teetering on the edge of disaster.

Get through the day without Jungkook turning you into his next verbal target.

 The mistakes were too obvious to miss, too dangerous to ignore. If the client saw these errors, it wasn’t just your job on the line—it was Jeon Enterprises' reputation. And that would mean your boss, Jungkook, would tear you apart, slowly and painfully.

 what have you done to deserve this.

Your fingers slammed against the keyboard as you raced through the sections. The section referencing the wrong project? Gone, replaced with the right one. The mismatched deadlines? Adjusted. The budget allocations that didn’t even make sense? Rewritten, recalculated, and double-checked.

You needed to print the corrected version. Your hands trembled as you stared at the screen, unsure of where to even begin this process. This wasn’t just a small mistake anymore—it felt like the whole day was falling apart in real time. You stared at the screen with mounting dread. Print. Where?

You slapped the print button, watching as the computer confirmed that it was printing, but your brain was far from settled. Printer? Where’s the damn printer? Your heart pounded as you stood, snatching up your blazer and dashing out of your office.

The hallway felt endless as you looked down the corridor. You felt a wave of frustration, the kind you’d never experienced before. You could have screamed, a sound that would shake the walls, but you couldn’t. Instead, you forced a deep breath through your nose and tried to calm yourself.

Finally, you spotted the printer at the end of the hall—right by the breakroom, its small glowing light blinking. It should have been a simple solution, but when you saw the machine, all you felt was pure, hot rage. Why is it always this difficult?

Why did it feel like everything was against you today?

Because of course, it jammed halfway through. Your fingers gripped the edge of the counter as you leaned down, yanking at the paper slot with all your might. The printer groaned, then jammed, and you let out an angry sound that came out as a strangled groan.

“Come on, you stupid thing—work!” you hissed, muttering curses that seemed to make you feel worse. Stupid thing!

You slammed the print button again, your fingers stabbing at the machine. Finally, the printer whirred, clicked, and then began its slow, steady rhythm. You let out a shaky breath, pressing your hand against your forehead to steady the dizziness threatening the edges of your focus.

Finally, the documents started coming out. You grabbed them. You ran your hands over the pages, smoothing them down compulsively as though that would make them more trustworthy. You clutched it like it was your lifeline. Not perfect, but it'll have to do. Once back in your cabin, you shoved the papers into a folder, your chest still tight.

The clock on the wall caught your attention.

Ten minutes left.

 You could barely breathe as you walked out of your office, your feet moving almost on autopilot. In no time, you found yourself standing in front of Jungkook’s office.

You knocked. Once. Twice. And then… you waited.

 You closed your eyes briefly, took a steadying breath. You bit your lip, and raised your hand to knock thrice.

"Come in!" Jungkook’s voice rang out, gruff and loud, cutting through the air. You hesitated for a second before pushing the door open, and every head in the room snapped toward you. You stepped inside, your heart racing as you greeted them with a polite but fake smile, trying your best to keep it together. Only Jimin smiled back. The others... they just stared, like you were some strange creature. Jin and Namjoon looked shocked—why? What was going on? And then there was Taehyung, his eyes wide with what could only be described as disbelief.

Jimin spoke first, his voice light and effortless, and you couldn't help but thank your lucky stars—or maybe it was just Jimin being Jimin. “You need something?”

You gave a short nod and turned to face Jungkook. His eyes narrowed, his arms crossing over his chest, his whole posture screaming annoyance.  His jaw was clenched so tight it seemed like he might snap any second. You swallowed hard, trying not to show how much his stare rattled you.

"Yeah. I was merely here to remind Mr. Jeon that the meeting starts in… like ten—no, seven minutes now," you managed to say, your voice wavering just a little as you spoke. Your hands were clenched at your sides, and you forced yourself not to fidget.

You stole a quick glance around the room. Jin and Namjoon had gone back to their own conversations, but Taehyung was still staring at you, mouth slightly open like he couldn't believe you were standing there. Jungkook still hadn’t said anything, his eyes still boring into you.

"Thank you," Jimin said, his smile soft and genuine. "He’ll be there."

You nodded once, trying not to let your relief show too much. You gave a quick, polite bow of your head, then turned, making your way to the door, your steps hurried but controlled. As you left the room, you couldn’t help but think—Jimin was an angel, working for a devil. You weren’t sure what you would’ve done without him today.

As you walked out of his cabin, you caught the faintest sound of Taehyung’s voice drifting behind you.

“Damn, dude! She’s something. She must be… to get you this worked up. Wow! I loved it.”

You didn’t linger to hear the rest, though. It was like your feet were moving faster than your brain, the urgency propelling you back to your cabin. You sprinted to your desk, your hands shaking as you skimmed through the pages one final time. You stapled them together. You had to present this with confidence, one mistake and Jungkook would tear you apart.

Five minutes left.

“You’ve got this. Just fake it. Fake it all the way.”

Your heels clicked sharply against the marble floors as you made your way to the conference room. Your grip on the file tightened, your knuckles white. When you reached the door. With a firm push, you stepped inside.

Walking to the table, you laid down the stack of updated project files, replacing the older copies. Once every seat had the corrected file, you finally slid into your chair. The leather seat creaked softly as you sank into it, and you folded your hands tightly in your lap to steady them. You darted a glance at the door, waiting for everyone's but specially Jungkook’s inevitable arrival. You flipped through the files for what felt like the hundredth time. The numbers blurred slightly before your eyes, but you forced yourself to focus.

The sharp sound of the door opening made your head snap up. Jungkook walked in with the same air of authority that always seemed to announce his presence before he even spoke. His eyes locked onto you, narrowing instantly, and his jaw clenched so tight you swore you heard his teeth grind.

You stifled a sigh, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your face neutral. What now? You wondered bitterly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. Jungkook didn’t just dislike you—he hated you—like, deep, unrelenting hatred. For what reason? Who knew. And frankly, you didn’t care.  If you could, you would’ve told him to take his reasons, his anger, and his goddamn temper tantrums and shove them up his perfectly tailored ass, but you knew that wouldn’t help you keep your job.

He moved around the room with precision, as he made his way to his seat. His attention was fixed on you, like you were some annoying fly he wanted to swat. You straightened in your chair. He dropped into his chair with an air of casual authority and grace of someone far too confident for their own good.

For a moment, your traitorous thoughts drifted. He was handsome—annoyingly so. Sharp jawline, paradoxically piercing boba eyes, and a frame that looked like it was carved by a sculptor. But his attitude? That was enough to ruin the whole package. If only his personality matched his looks. If only he wasn’t such a pompous, insufferable jerk. Instead of charm, he had an ego the size of the goddamn building. If he had even an ounce of kindness or respect to him, he would’ve been perfect. But no, instead he walked with the kind of arrogance that could suffocate a room, his back rigid and his posture as stiff as the stick lodged firmly up his ass.

You shook the thought from your head. He wasn’t worth your time.

The door opened again, and this time it was the clients. Jungkook stood, but just barely.

He simply stood halfway and gave a curt nod that was so half-hearted you wondered if it hurt his pride to be polite. God forbid Mr. Perfect lower himself to basic manners. His expression didn’t change—stoic and unbothered—while yours shifted into a polite mask. Maybe you were expecting too much. Maybe you were the problem. You slid your chair closer to the table and sat down next to him. You offered the clients a small smile, hoping to compensate for Jungkook’s complete lack of warmth.

But his eyes. God, his eyes. They didn’t stray far from you.

You placed the documents in front of him. You kept your gaze fixed on the table, careful not to meet his boba eyes. “Here! Mr. Jeon,” you whispered, your voice as even and professional as you could manage. The last thing you wanted was to give him even an inch to criticize you.

Before you could pull your hand back, his fingers closed around the file. His hand was warm—too warm—and for just a moment, your cold, dainty fingers brushed against his. The warmth of his hand lingered on yours, and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. Your body felt paralyzed, shocked, maybe even mesmerized by the sensation.  You couldn’t pull away—not because you didn’t want to, but because you physically couldn’t.

Jungkook’s hand retreated first, leaving your fingers tingling. You leaned back in your chair, clearing your throat as heat crept up your neck. You turned your attention to the clients, offering a polite smile. They exchanged a few glances, their expressions unreadable.

Why are they looking at me like that?

Before you could figure it out, Jungkook’s voice cut through the silence, quiet and low. "Why are you making that face?"

You turned toward him, startled. “Huh?”

He didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on the papers in front of him as he leaned back in his seat. His voice was soft, like a whisper, but it hit you like a punch to the gut.

“You look like you’re constipating,” he said, his tone casual, smooth, utterly calm—and utterly cruel and casual, as though commenting on the weather.

Your face fell. What did he just say? Your mouth fell open slightly in horror, heat rushing to your face. He did not just say that. You glared at the side of his face, imagining all the ways you could strangle him with the tie he wore so smugly. Murder was illegal, but maybe, just maybe, you could make an exception.

 Ignore him. He’s not worth it or… should you just strangle him? Oh, you wanted to strangle him. No, you needed to strangle him. Who even says that? You huffed, straightening in your seat and glaring at the file in front of you.

Jungkook flipped open the folder, his sharp eyes scanning the documents.

And then it happened—a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, so subtle you almost missed it. “Let’s begin,” he said smoothly, finally turning his attention to the clients. But just before he did, his gaze flicked to you, brief but searing.

The meeting began.

The meeting dragged on. Your hand ached from jotting down notes, your fingers stiff as they moved across the page. All you could think about was how Jungkook managed to handle these clients—their demands were endless, their standards sky-high. Jungkook, somehow, handled their lofty standards with an ease that almost infuriated you. How could someone so insufferable be so damn good at this? You, however, were drained. Mentally, physically, emotionally. All you wanted was to go home, curl up, and forget this entire ordeal. But the clients showed no signs of slowing, so neither could you. You scribbled furiously, keeping up with the endless stream of requests and comments, your hand cramping around the pen. Every now and then, you stole glances at the clock, silently begging for it all to end.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the meeting came to an end.

 The clients rose, shaking Jungkook’s hand with smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Jeon,” one of them said, their tone oozing professionalism. Then their gaze flicked to you, offering a curt nod—no words, no acknowledgment of your work. You swallowed the frustration bubbling up in your chest and nodded back, forcing a tight-lipped smile. Typical. You bit the inside of your cheek, swallowing the bitter taste of resentment as they exited the room. Well, women in corporate field.

The door clicked shut, leaving you alone with Jungkook. Your mind was hyper-aware of his presence.

He was leaning back, the picture of ease, his chair swinging slightly from left to right. His left leg rested over his right, one arm draped casually across the armrest. He didn’t speak, didn’t make a sound, but the intensity of his stare was enough. You didn’t dare look up. Not after what had happened earlier. Not after what he said earlier.

You stole a glance, his tie had loosened slightly, the top button of his shirt undone. When he did that? He looked like he owned the entire world, and the infuriating thing was—he probably did.

You remembered what you thought while applying for this job: How hard could it be to work for him?

You’d found out the hard way, within mere hours.

Jeon Jungkook wasn’t just hard to work for—he was impossible. A devil in designer suits. A man who had no mercy and no patience, especially not for someone like you. Your first day had made that abundantly clear in the worst way possible.

Jeon Jungkook wasn’t someone to take lightly. He was a storm you hadn’t prepared for, and it was already threatening to swallow you whole.

You pushed the glass door open, ready to step out, but then you heard it—his voice, loud and clear.

"Pebble!"

You froze. Slowly, you turned around, almost colliding with the door in the process. His eyes locked onto yours, and a subtle smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t the friendly kind—it was something else. Something that made you feel both irritated and, disturbingly, giddy.

"What?" you muttered, your voice low and unsure. You weren't able to understand why you gripped it ever so tightly.

He stood from his chair, rising with an ease that felt effortless, his hands casually buried in his pockets. His movements were smooth, deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world to examine you. He was far too good-looking for your sanity, far too composed, far too everything.

 Fuck him, and fuck your good sense.

What was this? Why were you feeling so fragile in front of him? You didn’t have time to figure it out because, in three long strides, he was standing in front of you, so close that the scent of his cologne wrapped around you.  His eyes were still on you, as if he were studying you—no, devouring you with just a glance. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. And that, right there, made you even more furious.

Is this guy stupid? you wondered. What was the point of staring like that? It felt intrusive, unnerving, yet somehow, you couldn’t tear your own gaze away.

 Staring, in your book, was the hallmark of cheap behaviour, reserved for people with no manners or boundaries. But he somehow pulled it off, with that smirk and those features and that way he seemed to have everything in the world under control. As if his ridiculous good looks gave him a free pass.

"Coffee. In my office."

"Huh?" was all you could manage, your voice barely above a whisper, still unsure of what was happening.

He tsked, shaking his head like you were hopeless. “You heard me. Black. No sugar. Ms…” he trailed off, his brow furrowing slightly.

Your eyes widened in realization. He didn’t know your name. Or worse—he hadn’t even tried to know it until now. Your throat tightened, and you opened your mouth, about to respond, but before a single word could leave your lips, he finished with,

"Pebble."

Your mouth hung open, as you watched him leave.

Pebble.

He had just called you Pebble.

You stood there, staring, stunned, unable to believe what just happened.

He was the most disrespectful, irritating, unbearable person you had ever met.

The anger built up in you until you couldn’t stand still anymore. You stomped your foot hard against the ground.

You would make him regret this.

Oh, you absolutely would.

With a resigned sigh, you turned toward the elevator, dragging your feet. At least you now knew where the coffee machine was—down at the far end of the floor. Great. More walking. You hadn’t even done this much cardio in the past year, let alone in a single day. No wonder all the women here looked so fit—they practically lived on their feet.

When you reached the elevator, you noticed him—Jungkook—already stepping into it. Your pace slowed instinctively. No way were you getting in that elevator with him, even for a single second. He wouldn’t stop the elevator for you anyway—he was too much of a jerk to care.

But when had life ever gone according to your plans?

Before you could change direction, you heard the sound of the doors closing and sliding back open.

Oh, hell no. Your body tensed. You didn't want to step in there with him, but you didn’t have a choice. You dragged your feet reluctantly. The annoyance in his eyes deepened, and a muscle in his jaw twitched, like he was already regretting his decision to wait for you.

Finally, you reached the door.

“Get fucking in, woman.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You stepped inside, muttering curses in your head, and the doors slid shut with a soft ding.

 You didn’t dare move, didn’t dare look at him, but you could feel his gaze lingering on you, like he was trying to figure you out or, worse, punish you for existing.

Maybe he was pissed.

And you? You couldn’t decide if you hated him more in this moment or if you just wanted to get out of this damn elevator as quickly as possible.

“I thought you had work here,” he said, his tone casual.

“Huh?” you managed, surprised.

He shook his head, as if you were already the most frustrating thing he’d encountered that day.

“Do you know anything else besides ‘huh?’”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he didn’t wait. “I said, I thought you had work here.”

“What work?” you snapped. His eyes flared. But the bastard smirked, like he’d been expecting this reaction.

“What meeting do we have next, Pebble?” His voice was smooth, almost playful.

Your stomach dropped. Pebble. He had just said it again. But. You froze. His words lingered in your mind like a bad omen, but all that filled your head was white noise. The name of the company… where was it? Shit.

He chuckled, the sound low and smooth, just to make sure you knew how badly you’d messed up. “You need to collect some files from marketing and sales team. You forgot.”

The damn files. I forgot? You swallowed hard, glancing around the elevator as if the walls could give you an answer.

“What are you trying to do—break the glass and jump into the sales and marketing floor?” he said, his tone as bored as his expression. His words felt cruel, but you knew there was a bite of truth to them.

You shook your head, cheeks heating as you mentally berated yourself. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, embarrassed and annoyed. More walking. That’s all you could think about now.

The elevator doors opened, and Jungkook stepped out first. He glanced up at you, raising an eyebrow, and for a split second, you thought—just maybe—he might say something remotely decent. But no, that was far too much to hope for. His lips curled into that damn smirk as he turned away and said, “Coffee. On my desk. In five minutes.”

Before you could even respond, he turned around and walked away.

You stepped out of the elevator, its door closing behind you. You let out a frustrated exhale. . God, I hate him. You made your way to the coffee machine. You prepared the coffee just like he’d ordered, and even the smell made your stomach churn. The bitterness of it matched the bitterness radiating from him.  No wonder he was always so damn miserable. A person who drank this much bitter coffee could only have a bitter heart.

You walked down the hall to his office. The door was slightly ajar, and you knocked softly, holding the cup in your hands.

“Come in,” he barked again from inside.

You pushed the door open and stepped inside, placing the coffee on his desk. He was sitting at his desk, back straight, his sharp features focused on his laptop. The desk was neat, pristine, every paper and pen in its place, a stark contrast to the chaos on your desk.

“Here, Mr. Jeon,” you said, your voice tight with forced politeness.

He didn’t even look at you. Instead, he grabbed the cup, bringing it to his lips like it was the most important thing in the world. His eyes fluttered closed as he took the first sip, and you watched in disbelief as he sighed deeply, as though he’d just tasted heaven.

“Good,” he muttered, but it wasn’t directed at you—it was all about the coffee. Your stomach turned at the absurdity of it. He didn’t even acknowledge the fact that you’d stood there, prepared it, and handed it to him.

“Send Jimin in my office. Now, leave,” he demanded, his voice flat, as if he were speaking to a wall, not a person.

 Every inch of you wanted to pull his hair out, to throw something across his perfectly organized desk. Instead, you nodded stiffly.

“Sure, Mr. Jeon,” you said, forcing the words past your clenched teeth before turning on your heel and leaving.

Once outside, the first thing you did was head straight for Jimin, who was at his desk, buried in papers. His workspace was cluttered with post-its, notes, and scribbles. His eyes lifted when you approached, and though his face showed signs of being busy, his greeting was polite as ever.

“What brings you here, Ms. …,” he began, with a soft smile.

“Mr. Jeon wants you in his office,” you replied, keeping it brief. You didn't have the energy to engage in any more small talk.

"Why?" Jimin asked, as he stood up, closing the file in his hands and sliding his blazer on with a sharp tug. You just shrugged. Jimin gave a small nod.

“Alright,” he said, adjusting his blazer. His tone indicated he didn’t mind being interrupted. “I’ll head in there.” You watched as he walked toward the hallway.

You followed your own path toward the marketing department first. You handed over the files, your hands sore from too much writing, before heading toward the sales department. The constant movement was starting to wear you down, but you couldn’t let it show. You did the same at the sales department, before finally making your way back to your office, your feet aching more than ever. This is going to be a long day, you thought, pressing a hand to your lower back as you settled into your chair.

Before you could catch a break, the clock ticked, signaling that it was time for the next meeting. You picked yourself up again, shoulders sore and heavy, and made your way back toward Jungkook’s office.

You knocked on the door before stepping in, your hand pressing into the wood with slightly trembling fingers. This time Jimin was in there with him, seated on the couch. He looked agitated—hands running through his hair as he exchanged words with Jungkook.

You hesitated at the threshold. You didn’t want to intrude on their conversation. You quickly turned on your heel, shaking your head as you backed out. These guys were insane.

You closed the door behind you with a gentle push and let out a shaky exhale. Your hands gripped your notebook tightly as you walked back toward the hallway.

The next meetings were a blur. For reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you found yourself relieved when Jungkook skipped every other meeting for the day. He didn't show up, and Jimin took over. The clients didn’t seem to mind the change, and in fact, it made things easier. Jimin’s presence was soothing.  His voice was soft, his smile was kind. He spoke in careful sentences, his calm composure like a reassuring presence. Working with him was smoother, quieter—lovelier, even. He made the chaos of the day seem more manageable, and you found yourself wishing you found yourself wishing you could work for Jimin, just him.

But you quickly shut that thought down. That wasn’t possible, not when you were stuck in this job, tied to Jungkook. No matter how much you hated it, you had to stick around. It was unviable to leave, even though every part of you screamed for the chance to escape. You have to stick around him.

As the last meeting came to an end, you gathered the files and followed Jimin out of the conference room. He took the files from your hands. You were thankful for his help, but the lingering feeling of being under the spotlight didn’t fade. You hated the attention, and of course, everyone would stare. Having the director of the company himself helping you with your work was far too big of a deal. The eyes of all the female employees had burned into you as you walked out. You couldn’t shake the sense of discomfort, and it only worsened as you stepped into the elevator with Jimin.

"Mr. Park, you really don’t have to do this," you said, offering a shy smile as the elevator doors slid shut behind you.

Jimin, however, seemed unfazed. He gave a lazy smile, his voice light as he answered. "Oh, I’m not doing it for you." Jimin leaned casually against the wall, eyes scanning the floor numbers as they lit up.

You blinked, confused, your brows knitting together. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

He turned his head, flashing you a mischievous grin. "It’s more for me, really."

Your frown deepened. "For you?" You couldn’t hide your confusion, but Jimin just chuckled, clearly entertained by your reaction.

"You see," he began, shifting slightly to face you fully. His eyes sparkled with a playful yet sincere gleam. "I come from old money. I just can't stand the idea of a woman doing something like that when I’m around. Makes me feel like I’m failing somewhere. I’ve got this fragile ego, you know?" His voice was light, teasing, but his smile softened as he continued. "It just feels better to help out. Plus, it’s... good manners."

"Yeah?" You asked, tilting your head slightly, your eyebrows furrowing as you tried to make sense of his words. The slight smirk tugging at his lips told you he knew you were lost but didn’t care enough to explain. Instead, he only shrugged nonchalantly, his expression  so casual it almost felt dismissive.

Before you could respond further, the elevator dinged softly, and the doors slid open. Jimin stepped out first. You followed behind as you adjusted your grip on the files. He led the way to your cabin, his presence drawing a few curious glances from colleagues. You felt those stares prickling at your back again, but Jimin seemed entirely unbothered. He walked you to your cabin, while you struggled to keep up with his pace. When he finally reached your desk, he placed the stack of five thick files down with practiced ease, brushing invisible dust off his hands like it was no big deal.

"All set. Anything else you need before I head out?" he asked, his voice light as he straightened his blazer.

Thanks again, Mr. Park," you said, shaking your head.

Jimin gave a small nod in return, stepping back. Just as he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder. "Take care, pretty," he said, his tone casual, yet the words felt deliberate.

Your hands froze mid-motion as your head snapped up, eyes widening in surprise. Heat rushed to your face, and you felt the unmistakable blush spreading across your cheeks like wildfire. You stared at the empty doorway where Jimin had disappeared, his words echoing in your mind.

"What the hell," you muttered under your breath. Forcing yourself to focus, you picked up the files, flipping through the pages with renewed determination. It was time to finish up for the day, but not before ensuring everything was in order for tomorrow. Your fingers worked quickly, your eyes scanning schedules and notes, the lingering warmth on your cheeks refusing to fade completely.

When you finally finished your work, you grabbed the file Jungkook had instructed you to complete and headed to his office. As you approached, you noticed the door slightly ajar. Through the small gap, you could see Jimin sitting in one of the chairs in front of Jungkook’s desk. Jungkook, on the other hand, sat with his brows furrowed in a way that seemed permanently etched into his face. It was a wonder Jimin didn’t crack under the weight of his perpetual grimace. If he wasn’t so ridiculously good-looking, you were certain his demeanour would’ve been a massive letdown.

"Are you even human?" Jimin's voice rose, his tone laced with disbelief as he leaned forward, his palms slapping against the desk with a dull thud. His lips pressed tightly together. His words seemed to hit like a quiet plea, but Jungkook didn’t seem to care. His eyes stayed glued to his file as he flipped the pages.

"I am dying over here. I am that tired and you are one of the reasons behind it. Don’t you dare ignore me, Jeon Jungkook!" Jimin continued, his voice a mixture of disbelief and frustration. His words grew louder as he leaned back in his chair, throwing his hands up in the air, as if trying to physically puncture Jungkook’s indifference.

"Huh?" Jungkook’s voice was flat, almost absent, as he gave Jimin just a single glance, his eyes flickering for a mere millisecond before he turned back to the file in his hands. He gave a distracted nod, not sparing Jimin much more attention.

Jimin’s jaw dropped slightly, his annoyance reaching a boiling point. "Seriously!" he exclaimed. His fingers curled into loose fists as he leaned back, pacing a step before planting his hands on his hips. "You made me handle all your meetings and deal with my own workload. I’ve been running around like a headless chicken while you sit here, all cozy with your stupid papers! Do you not have any regard—"

"You're right," Jungkook said, his voice steady and matter-of-fact, cutting off Jimin’s rambling mid-sentence. He slowly closed the file in front of him and placed it neatly to the side. This time, he leaned back in his chair, his posture loosening slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest. His dark, boba eyes locked on Jimin’s. "I am sorry, hyung. You're always picking up the slack for me. I don't say it enough, but… I’m really grateful. I couldn’t do this without you."

Jimin froze for a moment, his brow furrowing as he eyed Jungkook suspiciously. His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head, studying Jungkook as if he had just grown a second head. "Oh? What’s wrong with you?" he asked, dragging the words out slowly. He leaned forward in his chair, elbows digging into the edge of Jungkook's desk. "Show me your head. You punk, I’m sure you hit it somewhere."

Jimin shot up from his seat and lunged across the desk with inflated urgency, his hand reaching for Jungkook's head like a concerned but overly dramatic mother.

"Jimin-shi!" Jungkook exclaimed, his voice rising in protest as he swatted at Jimin’s hands. He grabbed Jimin’s wrists, prying them away from his head. His brows knitted together as he leaned back further in his chair, out of reach, glaring at Jimin. "I swear, I’ll kill you."

"There you are," Jimin said, a grin spreading across his face as he let out a sigh. He flopped back into his chair, dramatically wiping his brow as if the ordeal had been exhausting. "I was worried for nothing. Glad to see the real  grumpy, homicidal self's still here."

Before they could exchange any more words, you finally stepped forward, your knuckles rapping lightly on the doorframe.

Knock, knock.

The sound broke through, causing both their heads to snap in your direction.

For a moment, you felt rooted to the spot, like a deer caught in headlights. You tightened your grip on the file in your hands, suddenly hyper-aware of how out of place you felt. Clearing your throat, you finally stepped inside. "Sorry to interrupt," you said.

Jimin’s lips curved into a faint smile, and he tilted his head, gesturing toward the file. "It’s fine. Come in. Looks like someone’s got work to do, unlike us," he teased, his tone light.

You tried your best to force a smile onto your face—a polite, controlled, and friendly expression—but as your eyes met his. Your throat felt like it had closed up, your voice thin and wobbly. Why did he make you so nervous? Yes, he was intimidating. Yes, you’d dealt with difficult bosses before. But there was something about him—something that felt wrong, a shrill, intense warning in the back of your mind, like a distant alarm telling you danger was near.

Your heels clicked softly against the floor as you passed Jimin’s chair. He was sitting casually, his hands clasped behind his head, completely at ease as he looked over at you. You stopped beside Jungkook's desk, just behind where Jimin was sitting. "Mr. Jeon, I just finished the tasks you assigned." Your voice was soft but steady as you extended the file toward him. You forced yourself to meet his gaze, though it felt like staring into the eye of the devil. "Here’s the file. I’m leaving now, so I was wondering if there’s anything else you need before I go?"

Jungkook didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, slowly and precisely. His sharp gaze scanned your face, lingering on your forced smile before sliding down to the file you’d placed on his desk. A smirk curled at the corners of his lips, and his eyes—soft and doe-like at first glance—betrayed a sharp, predatory glint. "Actually," he drawled, his voice carried an edge that made your pulse quicken. He gestured lazily toward the towering stack of files on the far corner of his desk. "I do need something."

Your eyes widened as they darted to the stack, a silent gasp catching in your throat. The files seemed endless. You swallowed hard, glancing back at him, but his expression was unreadable. You couldn’t decide if you were more nervous or outright afraid of what was coming next. "See those files?" he continued, tilting his head slightly, his tone casual as if he were commenting on the weather. "I need them reviewed and sorted by tomorrow."

And you just stood there for a moment, trying to figure out whether you had a choice, or if you were already drowning. Tomorrow? That was impossible. You turned back to Jungkook, hoping to find some hint that he was joking, but his expression was calm and unyielding, like carved stone.

"I…" you began, but your voice faltered.

"Something wrong?" Jungkook asked, tilting his head slightly as if daring you to argue.

It was your first day, and you couldn’t understand what went wrong. You’d always thought Jungkook was handsome, admired him from the glossy pages of magazines and the distant buzz of news. You'd been excited, so excited to work for the most wanted bachelor in the continent. But now? Now, it wasn’t going as planned.

Too much work. Too much. How could anyone be expected to handle this much work? You thought you could handle challenges, but this? This felt impossible. This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. You’d probably have to sell your soul to some demon and even then, it still wouldn’t feel enough. You couldn’t do this. You shouldn’t have to do this. But the thought of giving up? That wasn’t even an option. You wanted to scream. No. You didn't want to scream you wanted to kick him where the sun doesn't shine.

"To-tomorrow," you stammered, barely able to believe the words coming out of your mouth. You were close to snapping, but something in his gaze made you hesitate.

"Impossible?" Jungkook interrupted, his voice a low, smooth. His eyes locked on yours, the warmth in them replaced with ice. "I’m not interested in hearing any excuses. You need to understand where and for who you’re working. Workload is a usual thing here. You either do it or resign. It’s up to you. Nobody’s begging you to stay."

The words were harsh. There was no softness to them, no room for debate, no compromise. He wanted you to know that you had no power here. His small, smug smile confirmed it—a clear taunt, a game to him, and you could feel it deep in your bones. He wasn’t just being cold. No, he enjoyed this. He was tormenting you, and you knew it. He was such a sadistic being.

"Understood," you said, the words coming out of your mouth with a firmness that surprised even you.

You turned your back to him and grabbed the stack of files from where they were carelessly left. The moment you lifted them, you knew this was going to be hell. It was heavy—too heavy—far heavier than you’d expected. Your arms shook as you struggled to balance them. You almost stumbled under the sheer force of it, but you steadied yourself.

You bit your lip, fighting back the urge to ask Jimin for help. You glanced toward him, only to find that he and Jungkook were locked in a silent staring match, their gazes locked like two wolves sizing each other up.  Jimin looked like he was about to explode. You couldn’t drag him into this. He already looked like he was walking a thin line, and you didn’t want to add to the fire. Besides, Jimin looked angry enough already.

So, you started walking.

You struggled your way out of his office. Your legs wobbled under the weight, and you nearly stumbled into the doorframe as you tried to maintain your balance. You wanted to scream. You hated him. You hated everything about this. Him. His smug smile. His icy tone. His ridiculous expectations. In truth, you’d never felt this much resentment toward anyone. Not even your previous bosses had managed to push you this far. But Jungkook? He was something else entirely. A walking nightmare wrapped in a handsome package, and you were stuck in it.

The moment you stepped into your office, you slammed the door behind you. You were done. You were going home. You couldn’t wait to get out of here. You grabbed your bag and purse. You cursed under your breath, knowing you couldn’t leave without grabbing those files too. There was no way you were going to spend another minute in that sterile, over-designed office. You adjusted the files again, and with a final shake of your head, you stepped out of your office. Your feet moved on autopilot as you walked toward the elevators. You didn’t look back. There wasn’t any point.

You knew you’d have to come back.

You knew you’d have to face him again.

But for now, you needed to get out.

The first day had been hell, all thanks to your devilish boss.

Jungkook and Jimin stepped out of Jungkook’s office. Jimin shot a sharp glare at Jungkook, his brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. Jungkook, on the other hand, wore a smug, teasing smile that danced at the corners of his mouth. He could feel Jimin’s annoyance and found it far too satisfying to ignore.

"Jiminshi," Jungkook said casually, but Jimin didn’t even give him a second glance, his jaw clenched as he exhaled sharply.

“Shut up,” Jimin snapped back without hesitation, the heat in his voice enough to make Jungkook pause for a second. It almost made him laugh, but he quickly held it back, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Come on, Jimin. We’re already late. And Jin hyung will be mad if we get even more late," Jungkook added, his tone light but carrying an edge of urgency. His smile was easy and easygoing, the kind that always got under Jimin’s skin, and this time, it did the trick. Jimin let out a slow, exasperated breath, his shoulders slumping slightly as he let his irritation simmer down. He nodded once, fingers gripping his phone a little too tightly. His hand flexed as he tucked it back into his pocket, his gaze fixed forward as they walked towards the elevator side by side.

Jungkook pushed the button to call the elevator, and Jimin stood next to him, arms crossed, still giving off that frustrated vibe. But Jungkook could see the edges of his irritation slowly dulling. Even if Jimin was pissed, he wouldn’t stay mad for long. Jimin was always the wise one, and he knew that getting upset over Jungkook's antics wouldn’t help anything. Jin had invited them for dinner tonight, and they both knew this wasn’t just another casual evening. Jimin had told Jin about you—how Jungkook couldn’t hear your thoughts, which still felt weird and foreign to him. It was strange, unsettling in a way, and Jin had wanted to discuss it. He’d called them both over, saying he needed to talk. Jungkook was curious about what Jin had in mind. It wasn’t every day that Jin invited them over, especially not without a reason.

The elevator doors opened, and Jungkook gestured for Jimin to enter first. Jimin grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue. Jungkook stepped in behind him, and the two of them stood in silence. He was looking forward to the evening, not only to talk things out but also to meet Jin's wife. She was a kind and sweet woman. If it wasn't for Taehyung, they would have never met her. Jin had been married for years, but he rarely invited anyone over, keeping his personal life guarded. Jungkook and Jimin always looked forward to her company. Jin, on the other hand, was borderline obsessed with her. It was impossible not to notice the way he adored her. They all had to be on their best behavior when she was around, though—Jin’s protective streak was well known.

The elevator doors closed with a quiet swoosh. They descended in silence, the air feeling heavier as their thoughts swirled. Both knew this night would give them more answers, but they weren’t sure what kind of questions would arise afterward.

Jungkook and Jimin soon stepped into the reception area. The receptionist was seated at her desk, typing quickly, and her head lifted the moment she saw them. She offered a polite smile as they approached.

"Good evening, Mr. Jeon, Mr. Park," she greeted warmly. Jungkook didn’t even spare her a glance. His eyes stayed ahead as he strode past her. He could hear her thoughts—granted, not every single word, but enough. Disgusting. Intrusive. He had no shame in admitting it. He didn’t feel the need to entertain it, so he ignored her completely.

Jimin, however, was different. His easy smile came naturally as he gave her a small, polite nod. His body language was relaxed, his movements smooth as he walked beside Jungkook toward the parking lot. His gaze was neutral, a simple act of kindness that contrasted sharply with Jungkook's indifference.

They reached the parking lot, and Jimin climbed into his car, his fingers gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than usual. He had originally planned on making Jungkook drive, but the irritation bubbling in him from earlier—the way Jungkook had acted with you—made him rethink. He was annoyed, not just because of what happened, but because Jungkook’s behavior had crossed a line. It wasn’t professionalism; it was just unnecessary rudeness. Pure and simple. Jimin had half a mind to lecture him, but instead, he started the engine, the sound of it roaring to life filling the air.

But Jungkook didn’t get in his own car. His eyes weren’t on Jimin, nor were they on the road. They were locked on something—or rather, someone.

You.

You were standing by your car, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, your head bowed slightly. Your shoulders looked tense, rigid, the way they always did when you were tired. You were clearly trying to calm yourself, but your lips were moving. You were speaking to yourself, or maybe the wind, but Jungkook could see it—your face contorted into something that looked like frustration, like rage.

He observed you. His body was suddenly heavy, his thoughts distracted. You looked like you wanted to set the entire parking lot on fire. From the way your hands tightened into fists by your sides, Jungkook could tell you were seething, clearly ready to explode. He couldn’t hear your thoughts, couldn’t read your mind like he could with everyone else, but it didn’t matter. Your expression was enough. You were cursing him out, he was sure of it.

It felt wrong to stare, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was like an itch buried beneath his skin. His entire body ached to know what you were saying, but you were like a closed book—impossible to read. It irritated him. That feeling of helplessness, the itch he couldn’t scratch. He hated not knowing exactly what you were thinking, hated that he couldn’t tap into the storm swirling behind those eyes. You looked like you wanted to strangle him, and the idea actually made him chuckle darkly to himself.

As much as he hated to admit it, there was something oddly magnetic about you. You looked so exhausted, so ready to shatter, your emotions playing across your face like an open book he couldn’t read. And that drove him insane. He wanted to know all of you. Every thought. Every word. Every secret. But he couldn’t. And it pissed him off.

His chest tightened as he studied you, his mind working in circles. Even though you looked like you were about to explode with frustration, there was a strange sense of calm that settled over him. Paradoxically, your anger—your confusion—was like a balm to his restless thoughts. His hands twitched at his sides.

And you, completely unaware of his gaze, kept muttering, your words too quiet for him to catch. The cold wind swayed your hair, and Jungkook wondered if you had any idea what you were doing to him. He hated that he cared. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to know.

He shifted his weight, a part of him wanting to walk away, but another part of him... couldn’t. He hated how curious he was about you. You were a puzzle he couldn’t solve, and that was something Jungkook couldn’t stand.

You suddenly turned your head, catching Jungkook’s eyes locked on you. Jungkook’s breath hitched. The shock of being caught sent a wave of heat through his chest. His eyes widened in alarm. Shit.

He knew. He knew you caught him. His face twisted into a mix of panic and frustration, and before he could overthink it, he whipped his head around, his heart pounding. He didn’t wait. He didn’t hesitate. He bolted into his car, yanked the door open, and slammed it shut behind him. Without looking back, the engine roared to life as he slammed his foot on the accelerator, his knuckles white around the steering wheel. He sped out of the parking lot, his focus darting between the road and his rearview mirror, where you were barely visible in the distance.

But before he could even breathe a sigh of relief, the heavens opened up. Rain poured down in sheets, soaking everything in an instant.

And then—he cursed.

He hated the rain. It always made him feel fragile, exposed, as though the world was pressing in on him in a way he couldn’t control. The sound of it pounding on the roof, the windshield, and the pavement—it was overwhelming, and it irritated him that he couldn’t understand why. It was stupid.

He glanced at the road, but Jimin’s car was nowhere to be seen. Of course, Jimin was probably already halfway there, and here he was, alone and soaked in this awful weather. His head was a mess, and his frustration felt tenfold. Great. He groaned, slamming his palm against the steering wheel. Perfect. The rain made it harder to see, the windshield wipers swishing furiously, but still, everything was blurry. Most people would’ve slowed down, maybe even pulled over. But Jungkook wasn’t like most people. So, he didn’t. His foot pressed harder against the gas, not caring about the storm that made the road slippery and hard to see.

Then, Jungkook’s eyes caught sight of Jimin’s car parked outside a convenience store, headlights flickering through the rain. He let out a soft, amused chuckle, shaking his head.

Typical Jimin.

Jimin was probably picking up some random snacks or an odd gift for Jin and his wife. The thought made him grin—what could you possibly find at a convenience store that would be good enough for dinner with Jin and his wife? Not much, he figured. But Jimin would always find a way to make things interesting. There was no way Jimin would have time to get something nice, and even if he did, Jin wouldn’t care. Namjoon wouldn’t even be there; he was off with his girlfriend. It was the kind of casual thing Jimin would do, and Jungkook was sure Taehyung along with Eunji (Namjoon's girlfriend's daughter) would tease him mercilessly about whatever he picked up. He could already imagine the scene: Jimin sulking, pretending to be annoyed, but secretly enjoying the attention. He spotted Jimin emerging from the door, an awkward bag in his hands, and he wondered what he had found.

But it wasn’t enough to make him stop. He didn’t want to be stuck in the rain any longer, so he pressed on, the road slick with water. The roads were empty. His headlights swept through the downpour, and the sound of his engine roared louder, mixing with the patter of the rain. The world felt gray and cold, and for a moment, he wondered if anyone else was even out here. His eyes darted, blinked twice, then three times in quick succession. A sharp flash of light broke through the downpour—streetlights, or headlights—too fast, too sudden. He squinted, trying to make sense of it, but his vision was useless against the storm.

Something’s coming.

Before he could react, he felt it. A sharp, sudden jolt as his car lost control. His hand gripped the wheel harder, his muscles tensed. He tried desperately to turn the steering wheel, left, right—anything to steady the car—but it felt as though the wheels had no grip at all. His breathing came out in short, sharp bursts.

And then it hit.

The sound was deafening—metal groaning, glass shattering. Jungkook’s body was thrown against the seat as the car twirled. He barely registered the impact before the airbag exploded in his face with a loud whoosh, his head slamming into it with force. His vision blurred, and the pain came, biting and sudden. His chest felt tight, his breaths shallow. The car spun—once, twice, thrice. His hands trembled against the steering wheel, and his head throbbed painfully. His heart felt as though it would pound out of his chest.

For a moment, everything went silent. He could feel his body shaking. His head swam, dizziness clouding his vision. His pulse raced as the rush of adrenaline hit, but then, fear—a feeling he rarely ever felt—took over. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to feel like this. Not after Mr. Park took him in. Not after Jimin became his family. He wasn’t supposed to feel this vulnerable. But now, the sensation was loud and personal, crawling up to his heart, through his arms, and into his bones.

Jungkook's world spun around him, the blur of the rain and the crash fading into nothingness. Suddenly, time seemed to stop. The sound of the storm, the screeching tires, everything disappeared. He wasn’t in his car anymore. He wasn’t even on the road. No, he was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere warm.

He was seven again.

The leather seats were soft, comforting, and the scent of his mother’s perfume lingered in the air. The only sound was the soft hum of the engine, a calm contrast to the chaos he had just left behind. He glanced around. His father was driving, hands steady on the wheel, wearing his familiar cheeky smile. His mother sat beside him, head against the window, her gaze distant but peaceful. Jungkook shifted uncomfortably in the back seat, squeezed between the seatbelt and the door. His arms were crossed tightly, shoulders hunched in frustration, as he kept his head down to avoid their attention.

“Hun, how long until we get there?” his mother’s voice broke the calm, soft and uncertain, reaching his father’s ears. She turned her head toward him with a small smile, her face lit faintly by the dashboard glow.

Mr. Jeon turned toward her, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. He shot her a cheery look, his eyes soft with affection as he answered. “Quite,” was all he said, but there was a warmth in his voice that made her smile.

But then Mr. Jeon's eyes found him.

Jungkook was sitting in the backseat, his little arms crossed tightly over his chest, his puffy cheeks flushed red. His head was turned toward the window, a frown tugging at his lips.

"What happened, Jung?" His father asked gently, voice full of care.

Jungkook’s gaze flickered up to meet his father's eyes, but he didn’t speak. Jungkook just huffed, his lip curling slightly, trying to hold back more tears. His arms tightened around himself, his small body so tense it seemed like he was trying to disappear into the seat. His eyes welled up again, and he sniffled, looking away.

“He don’t want to go.” Mrs. Jeon whispered softly, her voice light but firm, as though she’d been trying to ease the situation for some time. She shifted in her seat, her hands lightly brushing her white Chanel dress.

"I know that," Mr. Jeon said with a soft chuckle, his eyes flicking back to Jungkook. "But why?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Mrs. Jeon shrugged her shoulders, turning toward her husband with a helpless smile, her eyes glinting faintly with understanding. “You know how shy he is,” she whispered to him, just loud enough for him to hear but not Jungkook. Her voice was soft and wrapped in familiarity, like a gentle assurance.

Mr. Jeon chuckled softly, nodding in understanding. He then turned his attention back to Jungkook, his smile wide and encouraging. “But Taehyung will be there, too. Don’t you want to play with your hyung?” he teased, wiggling his brows playfully as he spoke.

Jungkook’s expression twisted with irritation. He pouted even more, his arms folding tighter across his chest. “No,” he snapped, his voice a little louder than before. “No, Taehyungie.” He refused to even look at his father, turning his head toward the window. His little hands balled into fists at his sides as he sat there.

Mr. Jeon froze for a moment at Jungkook’s sudden outburst. His eyes widened briefly as he glanced back at his son in the rearview mirror, but he let it go. He wasn’t angry—he never was with his son—but the outburst was unexpected. Jungkook wasn’t one to open up easily, and Mr. Jeon understood that. It wasn’t that Jungkook disliked Taehyung; he just couldn’t handle him. Taehyung was too much—too loud, too dramatic, too confident for Jungkook’s liking. His endless antics and unshakable charm always rubbed Jungkook the wrong way. It was easier for Jungkook to retreat into his shell than to deal with someone like Taehyung. Jungkook preferred the quiet, the safety of his own thoughts, while Taehyung was none of those things.

“Park uncle and his son are coming too. You wanted to meet Park uncle’s son?” Mr. Jeon tried again, his voice light and filled with gentle encouragement. He glanced back briefly, his brow furrowed slightly. He wanted Jungkook to at least be excited.

They were heading toward the Kim mansion for a grand party. A formal event with a lot of people, glittering dresses, and chatter. The kind of place where smiles felt like currency and charm was the language. It was important because their families shared good relationships with the Kim's. It was a social obligation.

But Jungkook didn’t bite. His gaze fixed on the rain streaking down the window. He pressed his cheek harder against the cold glass, the coolness against his skin doing little to ease the rising frustration in his chest. He wasn’t interested. His father’s words barely registered in his mind. The whole idea of going to a big event, the crowded space, the noise—it all just felt overwhelming.

“No,” Jungkook muttered, his voice tight, almost as if he were trying to seal off any further conversation. He could feel his father’s eyes on him, but he didn’t care. He didn't want to go. Not to meet Park Uncle’s son. Not to that party. Not anywhere. He wanted to stay home. He hated people. All of them. Parties. Crowds. They made his skin crawl. Even though Park uncle was always kind and brought him chocolate, even though he was gentle and easy to talk to, it didn’t matter. Meeting his son was a thought that felt like a chore.

Mr. Jeon’s face softened with a small, exasperated sigh. He turned his head, catching his wife’s eye for a brief moment. Mrs. Jeon gently tapped his arm, urging him to stop pushing Jungkook. But Mr. Jeon didn’t listen. He could see his son’s discomfort and it worried him. He wasn’t going to let it slide this time.

“Son, listen,” he began, trying again with more patience, his voice firm but not unkind. “You should—”

But his words were cut short by the sudden screech of tires and a blinding flash of headlights, too bright, too fast. Then—boom. Something slammed into their car, a deafening crash that shook everything around him. The impact tore through them, sending the car off the road. The world spun wildly, glass shattered, metal twisted, and screams filled the air. His head smacked against the seatbelt, his shoulders pulled hard by the force as the car twisted and turned like a broken toy. His arms flailed, his hands gripping at anything they could find, but there was nothing.

Finally, the car came to a violent stop and everything felt eerily quiet. The sound of the engine sputtering, the hiss of rain, and the faint, dull ringing in his ears filled his senses. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, but his head spun. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood. His chest was tight, his breath shallow. Through his blurred vision, he saw it—them. Blood streaked his vision, dark and warm as it trickled into his eyes from a gash on his forehead. His breath came in short, broken pants. He couldn’t see clearly—everything felt distorted, red, and wrong.  His mother was there. Her body was twisted, crumpled, unnatural, and there was so much blood. Everywhere but specially beneath her.

“Mom…” he whispered, his voice broken, a thin, desperate sound. His lips trembled, his head shaking as though he could will it away, but the horror wouldn’t leave. His small hands gripped at his seatbelt again, his fingers sticky, his face soaked with rain and fear. All he knew was that his mother was hurt, she was bleeding and wasn't moving.  No, no, no… His chest ached, a desperate pain that he couldn’t understand.

His eyes shifted to his father, still breathing, but barely. His father’s chest rose weakly, blood dripping from a gash on his forehead, and Jungkook’s heart twisted in his chest. “Dada…” His voice cracked, the sound barely more than a whimper as he reached out for his father, his small hands pressing against the seat. The fear was suffocating, but the pain of seeing his father so helpless, so close to slipping away, was worse. His body shook uncontrollably, his tiny frame trying to fight the overwhelming terror that threatened to swallow him whole.

The silence felt unbearable. Everything around him felt like a blur, yet every detail was all real and painstrikingly cruel. His hands trembled, his body shaking, his chest aching as he waited—desperately—for some kind of answer. But before his father could respond, figures emerged from the darkness dressed in black uniforms that glistened faintly under the rain. Their presence felt wrong, but the night itself was nothing if wasn't sinful. Jungkook’s head spun, his ears ringing painfully. The sound was distorted, every word like a distant, broken whisper. But the fragments came through, jagged and broken.

“And, it’s done... Wasn't much. Let him suffer.”

Jungkook visibly flinched at their words, his heart hammering against his ribcage. His ears rang painfully, making it hard to hear, but the fragments reached him like poison.

“He denied boss, after all.”

"Hmm, all he needed was that file. Black orchid project's file."

 "Yeah, stupid motherfucker." They turned to leave, but then one of them paused, looking back at Mr. Jeon’s bloody form, a sinister smile creeping across his face. “You know, since you’re dying anyways, let me tell you something… we found her. We got the first kid from the Black Orchid project. And with her, we’ll get them all. And with you dead, who will stop us.”

Their laughter was cruel and hollow, echoing in the stillness like nails scraping across the floor. Jungkook’s chest tightened, and his stomach churned, bile rising in his throat as they disappeared into the rain. The words haunted him, swirling in his mind, but before he could process them, another sound broke through—the sound of his father’s breath.

Mr. Jeon’s body shifted, his chest rising and falling in labored, shallow breaths. His tear-streaked face twisted with pain as his eyes met Jungkook’s, the weight of everything crashing down in those last, fleeting moments. “Jungkook…” His voice was raw, barely a whisper, but it carried so much guilt that it felt like it could suffocate him. “I’m so sorry, my boy… this… this is all because of me.”

“Dada…” His voice was cracked, shaky, the fear rising in his chest like a storm. His hand reached out instinctively, trembling, but it fell short, his small fingers grazing the air instead of his father’s skin.

Just as Jungkook’s vision began to blur, another sound broke through the haze—the screech of tires and the distant sound of shoes splashing through the rain. Relief flickered faintly in his chest. Someone was coming. But his blurry gaze couldn’t make out who it was.

A pair of feet appeared before him, followed by the frantic sound of someone running, slipping in the rain as they skidded to a halt next to the wreckage.

 It was Mr. Park, panting, his face pale with shock as he took in the horror before him.

Mr. Park dropped to his knees beside the wreckage, his hands trembling as they hovered over the twisted metal, unable to focus on anything but the devastation before him. His breath hitched in his chest as his gaze fell on Mrs. Jeon’s crumpled, lifeless form, and the tears welled up instantly, blurring his vision. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. All he could manage was a broken, “Oh, my... How… what?” His gaze settled on Jungkook’s mother, crumpled and lifeless in the front seat, and his breath hitched. His hands gripped the cold, wet metal of the car, his entire body shaking as he fought the overwhelming wave of fear and sorrow threatening to drown him.

“Hang on! I’ll get you both out, I promise!” His voice cracked as he spoke, his hands fumbling against the seatbelt, desperate to pull them free.

But Mr. Jeon, with great effort, shook his head. His face was pale, slick with sweat, and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. His voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper, but the words cut through the chaos. “No... no... listen to me.” He coughed, his body convulsing from the effort, and blood spattered onto his chest. “I... I won’t be able to make it out of here. Take Jungkook... get him out... and raise him. There’s no one else I trust more than you, Park. You’re like a brother to me. Please... take care of him... like he’s your own.”

Mr. Park’s eyes filled with tears, and he squeezed them shut for a moment, trying to push back the wave of grief threatening to drown him. His chest tightened, and his voice cracked as he fought to keep it steady. “I will. I promise. But don’t say that, we can still—”

“No…” Mr. Jeon’s voice was barely a whisper now, weak and distant, almost drowned out by the rain. The faintest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips, but it quickly disappeared as he coughed, blood staining his mouth. “It’s too late for me… just save him. Please.”

Mr. Park’s hand trembled as it hovered over Mr. Jeon’s, and he nodded, his lips trembling. He wasn’t ready to accept this, but he knew there was no choice. “I’ll take him,” he whispered. “I’ll take him, I promise.”

With trembling hands, Mr. Park unbuckled Jungkook, his heart breaking at the sight of the boy’s tear-streaked face, pale and bloodied. The tiny body was limp in his arms, and he fought to hold back his own tears, knowing it wouldn’t help. Jungkook’s head lolled against his shoulder, eyes barely open, blinking with confusion and fear, but he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.

“I’ve got you,” Mr. Park whispered, his voice rough with emotion, his arms tightening around Jungkook as he lifted him from the wreckage. The boy’s head rested against his chest, the faintest stir of breath against his skin. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, though he knew nothing about this could ever be okay. If anything, he himself didn't trusted his words. They felt hollow.

“I’ll be back to get you. And I’ll get you out too, just hang there,” he said, his voice final, desperate, and certain. His hands trembled as he cradled Jungkook against his chest, his gaze flickering back toward Mr. Jeon, whose eyes were barely open. Mr. Park wasn't sure if he was even capable enough to fulfil that promise but at moment it was all he could offer, it was all he had left.

Mr. Jeon’s eyes fluttered, a faint nod the only response he could manage. His body had grown so still, but the tear streaked face, the way his lips trembled, said everything. He knew it was a promise that wouldn’t be kept—but he nodded anyway, and the last bit of hope faded in the silence of the wreckage. With one final glance, Mr. Park turned, his arms cradling Jungkook against him, as he ran toward safety, the boy’s limp body a stark contrast to the life and pain surrounding them. The rain continued to pour, and with each step, it felt like the world was slipping further away.

Jungkook’s eyes fluttered weakly as he was carried to Mr. Park’s car. His small body felt light and cold against the older man’s chest. Inside the vehicle, Jimin sat in the backseat, his wide eyes staring at the scene before him. His small hands gripped the edge of his seat tightly, his knuckles pale in the dim glow of the headlights. When Mr. Park placed Jungkook beside him, Jimin’s shock melted into an visible concern. His little face was a mix of worry and gentleness as he shifted closer, his small body trembling slightly. Without hesitation, he wrapped his tiny arms around Jungkook, pulling him into a hug. The warmth of Jimin’s embrace was so soft, so comforting, but it felt like it wasn’t enough.

“Don’t cry… it’s okay, don’t cry,” Jimin whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he pulled Jungkook closer. Jungkook’s eyes burned, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. His throat was tight, his chest hollow with loss. The last thing he felt before the world around him went black was Jimin’s arms, holding him tight, and the warmth of a friendship that now felt fragile, like a thread ready to snap.

Meanwhile, Mr. Park’s hands were shaking, his desperation choking his every movement as he turned back to the wreck. His heart pounded in his chest as he sprinted toward the flames, but he didn’t make it. Before he could even reach the wreckage, the explosion erupted in a violent wave, the flames licking at the sky as they consumed the car. The explosion rocked the ground beneath him, the heat so intense it scorched his skin, and the rain didn’t do a thing to stop the inferno. The sound of the blast echoed in his chest, and for a moment, Mr. Park stood frozen, his body trembling from the shock, the image of his closest friend burning into his mind.  His breath caught in his throat, his heart twisted painfully, but he couldn’t move. He watched as the fire consumed everything—everything he had hoped to save. The rain poured harder, but it was useless against the inferno.

And just like that, Jungkook lost everything in one brutal, cruel instant. His mind hung on that moment, the crackling fire and the unyielding rain swallowing it all. The sound of the explosion still rang in his ears as he was pulled from the memory. Another sharp, blinding flash of light cut through his closed eyelids, yanking him out of his haze. His head throbbed painfully, the beat of his pulse a steady rhythm that seemed to match the aching in his skull.

A car screeched to a halt in front of him, the sound cutting through the fog in his mind like a blade. For a moment, he thought it was Jimin. But that couldn’t be right—Jimin was way behind him, far away from this mess, in a safe place. How could he have gotten ahead so fast? Jungkook’s thoughts came fast and fragmented. His breaths came quicker, his hands trembling harder as his body tensed with uncertainty.

What was happening? Was it Jimin? Was it someone else? His mind felt fractured, his body unable to respond. His body felt paralysed, useless.

The driver stepped out into the downpour, his black uniform drenched in seconds, but he moved forward with an unsettling calm. The sight of the uniform—it was like a switch had been flipped inside Jungkook. But his thoughts were too scattered, too foggy, to make sense of it. The closer the man got, the louder the buzz in Jungkook’s head grew, like lightening sissling through his skull. It was unbearable. His hands flew to his temples, fingers digging in desperately, but the pain only intensified. A low, broken groan escaped his throat.

Without warning, a loud, brutal crash shattered the silence. The man had smashed the car window. The sound tore through his body like a physical blow, breaking his fragile focus. His eyes flew open just as he felt the sting of broken glass. The shards flying like tiny stars of pain that bit into his skin. Before Jungkook could even flinch, a rough hand wrapped around his collar and yanked him from the seat. He was dragged out into the downpour, the cold, icy rain slamming into his face, washing away the blood. The cold slapped against his skin like a thousand tiny knives, but he was too weak to react. His limbs were heavy, his body numb, as if it wasn’t even his own. He couldn’t fight back. The man dragged him across the slick road like he weighed nothing, and with a brutal toss, he was slammed onto the wet pavement. His body hit the ground with a sickening thud, and the cold, muddy water instantly soaked through his clothes, seeping into his bones.

He forced himself to push up or at least he tired. His hands trembled, weak and brittle, but he couldn’t hold himself. His body gave out, and he collapsed back into the mud with a helpless, wet sound. His face turned upward, the rain blurring his vision, every droplet a sharp needle that dug into his skin. His chest heaved, his breaths coming in shallow bursts, but the pain in his skull, his limbs, and his chest refused to go away. Jungkook tried again, his body shaking harder this time. His head swayed from side to side as he struggled, but the rain felt endless, each droplet pounding into him, each one deeper, colder, meaner. His heartbeat was an erratic drumbeat in his chest, thudding against his ribs like it might give out at any moment. His vision remained a hazy blur—everything was grey, wet, and cold, and the pounding in his skull grew stronger with every heartbeat.

Jungkook’s eyes fought to stay open, his vision blurring more with each passing second, but the shape of the man in front of him became clearer. The man in the black uniform loomed over him, a dark, shifting figure that blurred in the rain. His face was a shadow, but the smirk on his lips was cruel and clear.

The man’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched Jungkook struggle beneath him, barely able to lift himself up on one elbow. His hand gripped the gun with a steady, deadly calm, and as he crouched down, water splashed from his chin, droplets falling onto Jungkook’s face. “Look at you,” he sneered, voice dripping with mockery, “pathetic. No high and mighty prince now, huh? Where’s your guard dog to save you?”

Jungkook’s chest heaved in ragged breaths, his heart hammering in his ribcage. He could feel the weight of his body dragging him further into the puddle, the cold seeping into his bones, but his muscles were too weak to fight back. His hand twitched, desperately trying to reach for something—anything—to push himself up, but it shook violently, unable to get any purchase. He gritted his teeth, eyes clouded with pain and dizziness, unable to respond, unable to do anything but lie there and take it.

“today was my lucky day, I guess,”  he laughed.

“You’ve been a thorn in our side for too long,” the man continued, his voice dropping lower as he straightened, standing taller. His form was solid and imposing, his boots kicking mud as he took a step back. The gun rose, glinting under the pale light of the streetlamps. The barrel was cold, steady, and pointed directly at Jungkook’s chest.

“Time to put you out of your misery, kid. Join mommy and daddy. I wager... You’ve been dying to.” A cold sweat broke out across Jungkook’s skin even in shrill rain, and for a brief moment, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened, flicking between the gun and the man’s mocking face, terror clawing at him from the inside. His chest tightened, his body frozen as the world spun around him, and he tried once more to move, to escape, but his legs were useless, as if the earth beneath him was swallowing him whole. All that remained was the sharp, unrelenting noise of the rain and the sickening sound of the man’s finger inching toward the trigger.

Jungkook’s body went rigid as the man’s words echoed in his mind. His heart thundered in his chest as the memories of his parents flooded him—their lifeless eyes, the blood staining the night, the terror that gripped him then and now. His hands, slick with cold rain, shook uncontrollably as he stared at the barrel of the gun. His throat constricted, but no words came out—only a choked sob that was lost in the downpour.

The man’s grin widened, cruel and savage, as he inched his finger toward the trigger. Jungkook could see the gleam in his eyes, the satisfaction of finally having the power to take everything from him. The laughter in his voice was sharp, like glass scraping against his skin, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he squeezed the trigger.

"Goodbye, Jeon Jungkook."

The gunshot shattered the night—louder than the storm, louder than the pounding in Jungkook's ears. For a brief, agonizing moment, the world seemed to stop. The rain paused in midair, hanging like frozen tears, the wind silenced as if holding its breath. Jungkook felt the world tilt beneath him, and his body instinctively braced for the impact that was supposed to come.

a/n: So, how’d you guys like it? Hate it? Loved it? I need the feedback, break me, but like... gently, okay? I’m fragile and I’ll cry, like, on the spot. But honestly, there might be some grammatical disasters in there. Why? Because I got sick and just didn’t have the energy to do much editing work on it. So yeah, don’t judge me too hard, I’m basically a walking disaster right now. Also, I really hope you still love Jungkook after reading this. Please don’t hate him. Show him some love. And, like, show me some too, because my ego is starving. Tell me how amazing it was (or, like, pretend it was) and boost my fragile little ego, okay? I need it. Love ya, guys!

[thejollywriter]

IT'S TIME TO LAUNCH THE BOOK

WELCOME FRIENDS, TO THE BEGINNING OF AN ADVENTURE! Allow me to introduce to you, DELILAH JONES; free-lance Robin Hood and bad-ass extraordinaire.

In the cyberpunk future of The Redwood Files, Delilah Jones is half film-noire private detective, and half western-gunslinger, who rides into a lawless town and fights the bullies and the bastards that hurt innocent folks.

This anthology contains SIX, count 'em SIX short stories and novellas detailing Delilah's Adventures.

Through a Dream, Lethally; When tech CEO Michael Lense decides to hijack the soft-RAM in his employees heads in order to make people do his bidding, things can get awful, FAST. Being forced, without your consent, to be an assassin or a thief or a sex worker, and more. But Lense also has the city under-thumb. Only Delilah's got the brute force to break Lense's control, and free the city from his cruel influence.

Happy Endings, Guaranteed; Delilah has a partner, and after a long day of nonsense, is looking forward to visiting them at work to unwind. Only to get to the club where her partner works, and discover that they've been KIDNAPPED! Delilah races around the city, squaring up with every underworld hard-ass she comes across following every lead to find her partner. Except nothing is what it seems, and a simple (but tragic) kidnapping turns out to be way more nefarious than Delilah expected. . .

Delilah's Heart; recovering from the last adventure weeks later, Delilah meets a handsome butch at a dive bar. Things between the two show promise, but the butch gets called back to work by an abusive bastard who violates and exploits his employees. The butch asks Delilah for help, and as she digs into it, discovers a deeply connected mafia bookmaker who uses that underground protection to kill and exploit people without fear of consequences. Delilah's the only one who can bring justice down on this bastard, but it threatens a gang war if she does. . .

Gutter Medicine; a gang of outta-town skinheads robs an impoverished clinic in a rough neighborhood. Delilah digs into the theft, and promises to recover the medicine, only to discover that the outta-towners are stirring up trouble to pave the way for an invasion from the South. A Kingpin from Los Angeles is hungry for expansion, and Redwood is fertile ground. Unless Delilah can stop the gang, and convince the Kingpin it'd be too expensive to expand beyond the safe borders of LA.

Restitution; Delilah's robbing a rich billionaire's museum-like mansion one night when she's caught by an unlikely sentry, a very old man who'd had plans of trying to embarrass the billionaire for reneging on a deal, and leaving the old man destitute. Delilah invites him to tell his story, and she volunteers to see justice done, according to Delilah's exacting standards.

In a Name?; every trans person's name comes from a personal place and an intimate choice. This story is about a young thief, with big dreams and a hard head, how she picked her name, and the day she was reborn into Delilah-fucking-Jones.

These stories have literally been years in the making. Some of them are personal, all of them are personal favorites, and this anthology is a collection I've worked very hard on.

Genre fiction is deeply important to me, and I love bringing queer characters to this space. Every story published in this book appeared first, both as ideas and in rough-and-final drafts on my patreon.

HERE'S HOW TO BUY AND SUPPORT THE QUEER NOVELIST IN QUESTION!

my ko-fi store: this is the most direct way to support me (a disabled queer novelist) and I get the biggest cut if you buy the e-book from this source

AMAZON! you want a paperback, YOU GOT A PAPERBACK

and lastly, if you want to see my writing in advance, get your name in the credits, or get special copies in advance, my patreon

thank you for your support, and happy reading <3

[moonscriptsx]

Daylight || 01 (M)

PART 2

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

SYNOPSIS:  Between the endless flirty banter or secret looks of longing, the line between you and your boss had always been slightly blurred. But when a night out with friends has you and your boss meeting for the first time outside of the workplace, that line starts to become nonexistent as mutual feelings are brought to light.

PAIRING: CEO!Wonwoo x Assistant!Reader [with appearances by Mingyu (a self-proclaimed Cupid extraordinaire), Soonyoung & Joshua as supportive besties, Seungkwan & Seokmin as the life of the party, Seungcheol (a menace), and a brief glimpse of Chan.]

GENRE: Coworkers→Friends→Lovers!AU – Fluff + Smut [minors dni]

WORDS: The entirety of both parts is 27.1k. Part 1 is 15.4k and part 2 is 11.6k.

WARNINGS: Slowburn, pining from both ends. Reader is constantly in a silent crisis when it comes to feelings, and Wonwoo is possessive (both in and out of the bedroom). Mentions of alcohol, cursing, and grinding on the dancefloor. Wonwoo is a slightly hard!dom but talks you through it so sweetly it'll make you melt. Oral (both recieving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), messy orgasms. Slight choking, dirty talk, alludes to squirting. Wonwoo is a pussy fiend.

A/N: Shoutout to the plethora of billionaire CEO books that I've been reading recently that ended up inspiring this piece and subsequently pulled me out of a three, almost four, year writing drought. But now I'm finding out that Tumblr has this stupid fucking character block limit that's not letting me post the fic in its entirety so it'll be split into two parts. Annoying ass rule. Anyway, It's good to be back! 🫶🏻

PLAYLIST: daylight by taylor swift // poison ivy by hemi moore // violet chemistry by miley cyrus // play with fire by sam tinnesz // ruin my life by zara larsson // tonight by zayn // middle of the night by elley duhe // worst behavior by ariana grande. // so it goes by taylor swift

The bustling street of people has you grumbling underneath your breath as you weave in and out of the crowd, the soles of your heels clicking against the pavement as you walk the last two blocks to get to your office. The early morning traffic of business men and women alike are already getting on your nerves as they take their time getting to their own jobs, taking strides small and slow enough that you’re ready to wring every single one of their necks as you bypass them while juggling the carrier of coffee in your hand.

A string of obscenities is falling from your mouth as you stumble inside the office building, clutching onto the coffees for dear life as you manage to make your way to the elevators without spilling the cups. Pressing the top floor, you’re heaving a sigh of relief as the elevator ‘dings’, a grumble escaping you as your heels click against the floor with each stride you take. Scattered murmurs around the office have you straining to hear the morning gossip, your eyes curiously peering around at the worried faces of your coworkers.

“He’s miserable today.”

Whirring around, you meet the wide smile of Mingyu, the head of finance and Wonwoo’s right hand man. You roll your eyes at his words before grabbing a coffee from the carrier and handing it to the man.

“When is he not miserable?” You counter, making Mingyu chuckle.

“When he’s around you,” he teases, making your face flush.

“Shut up,” you hiss, glaring at him. “He’s always miserable around me. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he hated me.”

He scoffs at your words before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Oh please,” he grinned. “You bring order and excitement to his life. Two things which he desperately needs.”

You shoot Mingyu a pointed look as you grip the last two coffees in the carrier, your head gesturing towards his office as your spin on your heel.

“Get back to work, Mingyu.”

The taller man grumbles, his lips forming into a pout as he calls behind you.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

Ignoring his response, you make your way towards your desk. Placing the carrier down, you set your laptop bag onto your desk before unwrapping your purse from around you and setting it on your chair. Grabbing your coffee in one hand, you grab the remaining one in the carrier with your other hand before turning towards the open door behind your desk. He hasn’t noticed your presence yet, the man still immersed in the papers he’s reading.

Leaning against the doorframe, you let a smirk grace your lips as you gazed at your unsuspecting boss. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and he’s frowning as he reads over the words on the paper. Along with his serious and reserved nature, he was devastatingly handsome. Sharp eyes, high bridged nose, and lips that curled into a feline smirk when he was feeling cocky enough. His looks paired with the strong build and tall statue made him look nothing less than a god.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you break yourself out of analyzing your boss as you announce your presence.

“You know it wouldn’t kill you to smile every now and again.”

The sound of your voice has the man’s head snapping up to look at you, sharp eyes shooting you a pointed look as you grinned at your boss. Pushing yourself off of the doorframe, you walk over to him and place the other coffee cup down onto his desk, biting back a laugh as he stares at you with a blank look on his face.

“Now I understand why women get annoyed when people tell them to smile.”

His deadpan response only makes your smile grow wider as you take a seat in one of the chairs in front of him, your own cup of coffee nestled in your hands as you take a sip.

“I’m just saying,” you hold a hand up in defense. “If you keep frowning, your face is going to get stuck like that. And you’ll get wrinkles”

“Maybe then people will leave me alone,” he grumbled.

“Unfortunately, you’re a CEO, Mr. Jeon,” you point out. “You’re going to have to meet with people whether you want to or not.”

Wonwoo hums before he leans forward to grab his coffee.

Thick rimmed glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose, his sharp eyes devoid of any amusement.

“If I asked you to cancel all of my meetings for today, would you?”

You splutter into your coffee cup at his question, eyes widening at the serious look on his face.

“Please don’t tell me you’re serious,” you whined, shoulders slumping in defeat. “It’s already eight thirty and your first meeting is in half an hour!”

Wonwoo purses his lips, eyes glinting under the fluorescents.

“I’m sure they would understand,” he reassures.

It’s then you catch him biting back a small smile, realization washing over you as your lips part in surprise.

“Are - are you – making a joke?”

Wonwoo shrugs, this time letting his lips curl into a feline-like smirk.

“Not a very good one, apparently,” he chuckles, making you let out a laugh of surprise.

“Look at you, Mr. Jeon,” you beam. “You can smile every once in a while.”

Shaking his head at your words, Wonwoo folds his hands on his desk before leaning comfortably against the back of his chair.

“Were you able to set up the meeting with Seungcheol?”

You nod, crossing your legs as you adjust your posture on the chair.

“He’ll be meeting us in two weeks,” you informed. “Mingyu and I are already working on the numbers and stats as well as putting together the powerpoint to present.”

Wonwoo nods in acknowledgement, his glasses slightly sliding down the bridge of his nose at the movement, and you try to ignore the muscles in his arm as you watch him push them back up.

“Good,” he praises. “I expect nothing less than perfect with the two of you.”

You swallow thickly at the praise, adjusting your legs once more as you try not to shrink under his gaze.

“Right,” you murmur, avoiding his eyes. “I should get to work.”

Smoothing out your skirt as you stand up, you turn to walk away from Wonwoo when he calls out our name, your head turning back to look at him as he gestures towards the coffee.

“Thank you,” he calls out. “For the drink.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not quite sure why he chose now of all the times to thank you for the drink you bring him everyday.

“You’re welcome.”

Pushing aside the confusion, you turn back around and get started on your day.

“(Y/N)!”

Soonyoung’s whine reverberates from the speaker as you wince, masking it with a smile as you look at your friend on the screen.

With your busy work schedule, you haven't had much time to see or hang out with your friends, gaining you whines and groans of ‘We miss you’s!’ from the group whenever you have a chance to Facetime them.

“Hi Soonie,” you greet, beaming with a small wave. “Happy almost birthday!”

Soonyoung’s grin widens at your words, the blonde bouncing happily on the other side of the screen.

“Thank you, honey!” He responds. “I was actually calling about that. We’re going to the HYBE Club on Friday for my birthday and I wanted to see if you were able to go.”

Pursing your lips, you perch your phone up against the corner of your computer screen as you toggle around the apps, pulling up your calendar and scanning over the dates. The empty space for Friday’s date stares back at you and you almost want to cry out of relief at the sight of a rare day off, your lips curving into a bright smile as you peer down at Soonyoung’s face on the screen.

“Believe it or not,” you started, grinning at your friend. “I’m off.”

A joyous cheer escapes the blonde, muffled shouts in the background indicating that your friends had heard the whole thing and were collectively celebrating at the fact that you were able to join them. Soonyoung beams at the camera.

“We’re going to have a blast, (Y/N)!” He says, excitedly. “Meet us at HYBE Club around five! We’re going to start out with dinner and drinks!”

“And dancing!”

Dokyeom’s shout echoes in your airpod and you can’t help but to giggle as he and Soonyoung wrestle over the phone, the former’s bright smile coming into view as he grins at you through the phone.

“Hi (Y/N)!” He greets, his infectious smile making you beam back at him.

“Hi ‘Kyeomie.” you coo, blowing him a kiss. “I miss you!”

“We miss you too!” He whines, pouting. “You’ve been working too hard lately.”

“I know I have,” you frown. “But I’m excited to be able to have a night with you guys.”

“We can’t wait (Y/N)!”

Joshua and Seungkwan shout from the background and you can’t help but to laugh as the four of them wrestle over the phone. You were so preoccupied in watching the chaos unfold amongst your friends that you hadn’t noticed the presence that stood behind you, the deep timbre almost making you jump out of your skin.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You’re clambering to hit the end button, heat flooding your cheeks as you place the phone face down on your desk as you swivel your chair to face Wonwoo, your boss standing behind you with his arms folded over his chest. Butterflies flutter wildly in your stomach as you catch the playful glint in his eyes as he leans against the doorway.

“N – not at all, Mr. Jeon,” you stuttered out. “I was just finishing my lunch break.”

Wonwoo nods, a small frown on his face as his gaze trails over you.

“Ah,” he responds, and you catch the slight slump of his shoulders at your words. “I was actually coming to see if you wanted to grab lunch with me.”

Your heart stilled, the butterflies multiplying tenfold as you mirror his frown.

“Oh,” you mutter, dejectedly. “I’m sorry, sir. If I had known –”

“It’s alright, (Y/N),” he brushes off your apology with a wave of his hand. “Now I know for next time to catch you a little sooner.”

Offering you a small smile, he bows his head in your direction before walking off to the elevators. You’re still frowning as you watch his retreating form, your heart tugging regretfully in your chest, a small sigh escaping you as you slump back defeated in your chair.

“Yikes,” a voice chimes from behind you. “Break his heart, why don’t you?”

Your eyes narrowed into a glare as your head snapped to look at a smirking Mingyu, his tall stature leaning against your desk.

“Shut up, Mingyu,” you bite out, making the man laugh.

“The man just wanted to treat you to a nice meal and you turned him down,” he tuts, shaking his head. “That’s cold.”

“I already ate!” You defended. “I wasn’t going to just sit there and watch him eat.”

Mingyu purses his lips, shoulders shrugging in thought.

“Maybe he likes that,” he grins. “Maybe he just wanted to be in your company.”

You roll your eyes at his words, waving him off as you turn to your computer.

“I’m in his company enough,” you muttered, making Mingyu snicker.

“Maybe he wants more than your company.”

Mingyu wiggles his eyebrows at you teasingly, chortling with laughter as you chuck a pen in his direction.

“Leave me alone, Gyu!”

“I’m just saying,” he grins, holding his hands up in defense. “It’s something to think about.”

“It’s nothing to think about,” you grumbled. “Go back to your office and mind your business.”

Mingyu’s laugh follows him as he walks away, leaving you to mull over his words as your mind fills with the image of you laying in your boss’s arms, heat flooding between your legs at the thought of your bare body pressed against his silk sheets.

Ignoring your increased heart rate, you’re turning back to the computer and grumbling under your breath.

Go to hell, Kim Mingyu.

Tongues and teeth clash together in a bruising kiss as you’re clambering to sit on the desk, a whimper falling from your lips as hands rip open your blouse, buttons flying everywhere as your chest becomes exposed. There’s a growl against your lips, teeth clamping down onto your bottom one as greedy hands encase themselves around your covered breasts. If the bruising kiss hadn’t left you breathless, it was the rough kneading to your bra-clad mounds that had your lips parting in ecstasy. Frenzied lips leave a hot trail down the expanse of your neck as you’re perched on the desk, legs wrapping around lean hips.

“God, you’re perfect,” he grits out, tongue sweeping over the valley between your breasts. “Perfect for me and only me. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You moan at his words, back arching into his touch as he reaches behind to unclasp your bra.

“Only you, Mr. Jeon.”

A salacious smirk crosses his lips as he peers up at you from between your breasts, glasses haphazardly sitting on the bridge of his nose, and he’s tonguing at your flesh as he slides your bra straps down your arms, mouth ghosting over a pert nipple before taking it fully in his mouth –

And then chimes are going off.

There’s an obnoxious ring filling the air as you bolt upright in bed, heat pooling in between your legs as you try to grip onto your surroundings.

Much to your dismay, you’re in your apartment – alone – filled with nothing but the remnants of your burning arousal. Your eyebrows furrowed in frustration, a string of curses falling from your lips as you’re fishing around for the obnoxious ringtone that had disturbed your scandalous dream. Peering down at the screen, you glare at the caller, mentally condemning them into next week as you press the answer button.

“You’re a dead man.”

Your words are harsh as you answer the call, a whine falling from the receiving end as you glare into the empty room.

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu apologizes, making you scoff. “But it’s an emergency.”

You grit your teeth as he speaks, your body refusing to get up from the bed as sleep and arousal still swirls in the pit of your stomach.

“I swear to god, Mingyu, if someone is not dying –”

“The presentation got pushed up.”

Your threat falls short, lips parting in shock as your eyes widen in alarm.

“You’re joking.”

“It’s bad, (Y/N),” he says quietly into the phone. “I’ve never seen him like this before.”

A heavy sigh falls from you as you gnaw at the inside of your lip.

“Does he want anything?” You ask softly. “Coffee? Breakfast? A hammer to destroy his office?”

Mingyu chuckles on the other end.

“Coffee is always good for him,” he pauses, taking a deep breath. “A blowjob might work too.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, and Mingyu bursts out laughing at your response. “Give me an hour to get ready and I’ll be in.”

“Hurry, please,” he whines. “He’s doing that thing where he stares catatonically into nothing and it’s starting to scare me.”

You snort at that, shaking your head at Mingyu.

“Just give him encouraging pats on the back,” you joked, grinning. “And tell him he’s doing a great job.”

“He’s not going to like it if I do it,” Mingyu grumbles. “He only likes you.”

“Suck it up you big baby,” you tease. “You’ll be fine.”

Not waiting to hear his response, you end the call with a huff as you flop back down onto your pillows, staring up at the ceiling. The intense burn that had ignited between your thighs had simmered to a dull ache, the arousal from the very vivid dream a now distant memory. Clenching your thighs together to soothe the remnants of your desire, you ran a hand over your face before reluctantly rolling out of bed.

On a normal day, most of your coworkers would have still been half asleep, dragging their feet around the office as they fought off the remnants of slumber. The morning hours were usually somber, few words spoken between each other as they tried to finish their morning coffees.

Today was not one of those days.

The second you step out of the elevator, you’re met with utter chaos of chatter and frantic pacing — almost like they were chickens with their heads cut off. You’re frozen to the spot as you watch the group around you shove papers into each other's hands and point in the direction of the copier, demands upon demands being yelled at to one another.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered.

Clutching the carrier of coffee in your hand, you weave in between the frazzled group as you make your way straight to Wonwoo’s office, not even bothering to drop your stuff on your desk as you push his door open. Mingyu sits with his back to you, head snapping up to look at you with a sigh of relief as you make your way into the office. Across from him sits your boss who, true to Mingyu’s word, was staring into the abyss with his hands folded on his desk.

Cautiously you’re walking over to Wonwoo and placing a gentle hand on his back, your other one putting the coffee on his desk as you offer a soothing pat to his broad stature. Wonwoo had abandoned his glasses, the specs splayed out carelessly in front of him, and his sharp eyes are settling on you as you rubbed his back. As your gaze met his, you were reminded of the dream you had before Mingyu had so rudely interrupted it.

The image of Wonwoo laying you out on this very desk, mouth on your breasts and hands resting somewhere a boss’s hands shouldn’t be on their assistant. Heat fills your body as you watch him lean into your touch, his stern expression softening, and he’s graciously taking the coffee from you as he grabs your hand in his.

“Thank you for this,” he accepts, graciously. “You always seem to know when I need it.”

From out of the corner of your eye, you see the smug smirk on Mingyu’s face and you fight back the urge to kick him in the shin as you offer your boss a small smile.

“You don’t have to keep thanking me,” you reply, squeezing his hand in reassurement before pulling away. “I am your assistant, after all. It’s my job to know these things.”

The brief softened gaze on his face hardens once more at your words and he’s watching in silence as you move to the opposite side of the desk to take a seat next to Mingyu. His sharp gaze falls over the two of you, eyes scrutinizing your every move, and you push away the heat blooming in between your legs as you cross them.

Mingyu peers between the two of you, an eyebrow quirked attentively before he’s leaning forward in his chair.

“Do you want to break the news or should I?”

Wonwoo’s jaw clenched, his expression stony as he looks at you.

“Seungcheol asked me to push up the deadline,” he pauses, and you catch him gritting his teeth in aggravation.

“How soon?” You ask, nervously taking a sip of your coffee. Wonwoo doesn’t miss a beat.

“This Friday.”

The coffee almost splutters from your mouth as you choke in surprise, eyes widening as you look between the two men.

“That’s in three days!” You exclaim. “Not to mention I’m off that day!”

Mingyu offers you a pitiful expression while Wonwoo remains stoic, the difference between them comparable to night and day.

“Not anymore, you’re not,” Wonwoo denies, and you feel your heart clench. “We need you here.”

Resentment begins to build in your body as you shoot your boss an incredulous look, anger boiling in your veins.

“Why did you even agree to this?” You asked harshly, making Wonwoo tense up. “You could’ve asked him to give you until at least Monday.”

Wonwoo’s lips press into a thin line and you just know he’s holding back from scolding you in front of Mingyu.

“It was out of my control,” he shrugs, and the nonchalant response has you rising out of your seat as the anger inside of you bubbles.

“Bullshit!” You bite back, and Wonwoo’s face hardens.

“Watch yourself, (Y/N),” he warns, making you scoff.

“I’m allowed to be angry, Mr. Jeon,” you point out. “Very rarely do I get a day off and the one time I do, you make the decision to take that away from me.”

Wonwoo’s jaw clenched are your words, his sharp eyes glinting with fury as he looks down the bridge of his nose at you.

“You are my assistant, Ms. (L/N),” he bites out. “When I’m here, you’re here.”

You were certain that if you had been a cartoon character, steam would’ve been emitting from your ears as you glare at the man in front of you.

“I have plans,” you grit harshly. Wonwoo doesn’t bat an eye.

“Reschedule them.”

Mingyu can only watch the two of you with an open mouth, utterly shocked at the exchange happening before him.

In your last attempt to make him change his mind, you grit your teeth as you shoot your boss a look of fury.

“I have a date.”

The air between the three of you stilled.

You watched as Wonwoo’s shoulders tensed, a flash of jealousy in his eyes as he glowered at you from his desk. Mingyu’s eyes bugged out of his head, the businessman immediately pushing himself out his seat as he held his hands up in defense.

“I — I don’t think this concerns me,” he excuses himself, brown eyes glimmering in worry as he shoots you a look. “Come find me later when you’re both ready to talk about the presentation.”

You and Wonwoo stay silent as Mingyu walks out of the office, the door slamming shut behind him, and it’s then that Wonwoo stands up from his desk. His tall stature towering over the wood, a move he made with clients when he was trying to intimidate them — a move you’ve watched him make with everyone but you.

“I’m sure whoever it is will understand that your job comes first,” he pauses, his voice cold. “That I come first.”

You stand your ground, your furious gaze borrowing into his.

“Are you insisting that I don’t deserve a personal life?”

Wonwoo doesn’t back down in the slightest.

“I’m saying that this is your job,” he reiterates. “You’re my assistant. I’m your priority. When I’m needed, you’re needed.”

“So you’re telling me that any plans I make or have planned already have to be flexible so that I can accommodate you?”

“Precisely.”

A sharp inhale comes from you, angry tears threatening to spill over your cheeks as you fight them back. Your fists clench at your sides as you send your boss a menacing glare. You knew there was no way around this, you knew that no matter how much you defended yourself Wonwoo wasn’t going to back down.

You exhale slowly, keeping the tears at bay.

“It seems I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” You concede, trying to stabilize your shaky voice.

Clutching your coffee in your hand, you move to walk away from him when his warm hand encloses around yours, the hardened gaze he had kept focused on you softening as he caught sight of the tears pooling in your eyes.

“(Y/N)…”

Ripping your hand away from him, you shoot daggers towards him as you walk towards the door.

“I’m taking a walk,” you spat, voice quivering with emotion. “Don’t come after me.”

With that, you’re storming out of his office, making sure to slam the door behind you.

Hot tears are spilling over your cheeks as you frantically press the elevator button, your head hung low as you try to mask the sight of you crying as you wait for the doors to open, your body trembling with angry sobs as you bite them back, gritting your teeth in anger as the elevator dings. Stepping inside, you turn to face the lobby and catch the sight of a concerned Mingyu watching you as you press the close button.

As soon as the doors closed and you’re heading down, you’re pulling your phone from your pocket and dialing Soonyoung’s number, the blonde almost immediately answering the FaceTime call with a shocked look on his face.

“(Y/N), honey? What’s going on?”

His caring tone draws a fresh batch of tears in your eyes as you step outside of the elevator and walk into the lobby, making a beeline for the bathroom as you lock yourself in a stall. Defeated sobs wrack your body as you try to catch your breath.

“Soonie,” you cried, hastily wiping your tears. “I’m sorry I’m calling you like this.”

Soonyoung shakes his head, concern in his eyes as he stares back at you through the screen.

“Don’t apologize baby,” he reassured, softly. “We’ve all had bad days.”

Wiping your nose, you sniffle quietly as you nod, acknowledging his words.

“What happened, honey?”

“I think I’m going to have to miss out on your birthday, Soonie,” you say quietly, making Soonyoung whine.

“What?! Why?!”

“That big presentation that wasn’t due for two more weeks got pushed up to this Friday instead.”

“Oh, what the fuck?!” He groaned. “Aren’t you supposed to be off anyways?”

A bitter laugh escapes you at that, your teeth gritting together in anger as you nod.

“Keyword is supposed to,” you bite out, rolling your eyes. “But my boss said that I now have to come in. Actually — he pretty much said that I’m not entitled to a personal life.”

Soonyoung’s mouth opens in shock at that, his eyes widening.

“Are you fucking serious?” He asks, flabbergasted.

“I wish I wasn’t,” you affirm, sadly. “He said that since I’m his assistant – anywhere he is, I have to be right next to him. Plans or no plans, off of work or not.”

The blonde scoffs, eyes narrowing into a glare.

“That’s bullshit,” he spat, and you can’t help but to laugh without humor.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “I said the same thing.”

You watch as Soonyoung purses his lips in thoughts, a hopeful look crossing his features as he looks at you through the phone.

“The presentation shouldn’t take that long, right?” He asks. “Like you can skip the dinner and then just meet us right at the club instead!”

Your sullen expression morphs into a hopeful one as you consider his words, your head slowly nodding in acknowledgement as you offer the blonde a bright smile.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” he teases, making you scoff playfully.

“Whatever you say, Soonie,” you jest, making him laugh. “I should get back upstairs…”

Soonyoung smiles at you through the phone, offering you a gesture of encouragement as he grins.

“Deep breaths, honey!” He chimes. “Don’t let that asshole get to you.”

Smiling at him, you both exchange your goodbye before hanging up. A heavy sigh escapes you as you take a deep breath to compose yourself once more before unlocking the stall and walking to the sink. The pitiful expression that rested on your features made you want to sink down to the floor in embarrassment, your gaze flickering over the mascara that had streaked your cheeks from the waterfall of tears. Grumbling to yourself, you reach for some paper towels before wetting it under the sink and cleaning off the remnants of your breakdown, mentally cursing Wonwoo into oblivion.

Once you were set, you took an extra minute to collect your thoughts, trying to settle your still enraged mind as you made a silent vow to ignore the man you called your boss for the remainder of the week.

Should be easy, right?

Wrong.

With the silent vow in place, you had walked into the office the next day with every intention of ignoring him.

Until you catch sight of the vase of roses that sat on your desk.

The beautiful red petals bloomed in the crystal casing, the fragrance filling your senses as you leaned down to smell them. A solemn expression crosses your features as you pluck the card from between the petals, lips pursing in thought as you stare down at the writing.

‘I can’t do this without you.’

Your heart feels like it’s tearing at the seams as you look down at his handwriting, the messy scrawl of his admittance sending your stomach into a frenzy of butterflies, and you’re peering into his opened office door to see his sharp gaze awaiting your reaction. The gesture was sweet, sure, but you were also human – a human with feelings and a life. So instead of thanking him, you’re pushing away those damned butterflies and turning your head away from him as you silently set up your desk.

You didn’t look back at him once.

Despite other numerous attempts to gain your attention, you had successfully managed to give Wonwoo radio silence until it came time to get the presentation together. And, even then, you still sat tight-lipped as he and Mingyu went over the details of what’s to come within the next few hours as the three of you awaited Seungcheol’s arrival.

Your pen glides over your notepad as you jot down last minute ideas and thoughts, your tongue sticking out of the side of your mouth in concentration as you work quietly at the table. From the left of you, Mingyu types away at his laptop, quietly cursing at the powerpoint in front of him as he fixes the last minute details. To the right of you, you can already feel the pointed gaze in your direction from your boss as he sits silently beside the two of you, sharp eyes lingering on both yours and Mingyu’s forms as the two of you work diligently.

Wonwoo purses his lips, trying to bite back the amusement as he looks over at you two.

“I think this is the hardest I’ve ever seen you two work.”

Simultaneously, yours and Mingyu’s heads snap over to look at your boss, your eyes narrowed in an accusing glare while Mingyu’s twinkle with humor.

“We wouldn’t be working so hard if you hadn’t agreed to pushing up this damned meeting.”

Your voice comes out harsher than you intend to, but it doesn’t deter Wonwoo one bit.

“Ah,” he smirks. “She speaks.”

A menacing glare is shot towards him as you scoot your chair closer to Mingyu, trying to shift your attention back towards your notes, but you’re frozen in shock as Wonwoo grabs the back of your chair to slide you back closer to his side, sharp eyes gazing sadly at you.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, and you hear Mingyu cough awkwardly, trying not to watch the two of you as he types away at his laptop. “(Y/N), please.”

As much as you wanted to make him grovel a bit longer, you knew from the gifts and gestures he’d been giving you the past two days had been enough of an apology. So, reluctantly, you’re lifting your eyes to meet his brown ones, your breath catching in your throat as you hold his softened gaze. You can feel the butterflies begin to awaken in the pit of your stomach as your heart sped up in your chest, lips parting slightly as you stared at the devastatingly handsome man.

Reaching over, he’s gently grabbing your hand in his, all the while keeping his eyes on you.

“I’m sorry for making you come in on your day off,” he apologized, quietly. “I’m sorry for never giving you one to begin with.”

Wonwoo’s teeth grit as he tries to keep his expression neutral, his thumb gently soothes over the back of your hand.

“And I’m sorry for making you miss your… date.”

Date..? Oh – oh.

Your hardened gaze softens into one of understanding and you’re offering your boss a small smile, your hand turning in his as you clutch it.

“I forgive you,” you relent, squeezing his hand in reassurance. “And - I, uh, didn’t actually have a date.”

From out of the corner of your eye you see Mingyu’s head snap towards you, eyes wide as he looks between you and Wonwoo. The latter keeps his gaze on yours, the corners of his lips quivering ever so slightly as his sharp eyes trace for any sort of fabrication he can find. And then he laughs – a full, throwing his head back and cackling kind of laugh. One that sends your heart into overdrive as he grins widely.

“So you just wanted to enjoy some peace and quiet by yourself?” He asks, teasingly.

“No,” you deny, frowning. “I really did have plans, or rather, I still do after this. I’m going out for my friend’s birthday.”

Wonwoo’s eyes shine playfully as he pats your hand.

“It’s okay,” he grins. “As long as you forgive me and we get this presentation over and done with, you’ll be out of here in no time.”

As Wonwoo finishes speaking, the conference door all but flies open, a mass of blonde hair and a dimpled smile coming into view as Seungcheol walks through the door. The three of you stand simultaneously, nervous but warm smiles plastered on your faces as you greet the businessman. Wonwoo stands glued to the spot next to you as you watch Seungcheol greet Mingyu, the two shaking hands as they joke amongst themselves. It’s then that the severity and importance of this meeting finally hits you, your palms growing clammy with nerves as your brain clutters with what ifs and possible negative outcomes if everything fails between the two companies.

From behind you, Wonwoo must’ve noticed the sudden tension in your stature as he leans forward, a gentle hand placing itself on the small of your back as he leans in to brush his lips against your ear.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly, his other hand reaching to squeeze yours in reassurance. “It’s going to be fine.”

Yet the warmth of his breath and the close proximity of his body pressing to yours as his cologne fills your senses does absolutely nothing to help your nerves. You squeeze his hand back in silent acknowledgement before dropping it as Seungcheol rounds on you, a bright smile on the blonde’s face as he offers you a hand.

“Ms. (Y/N),” he greets, beaming. “It’s always lovely to see you, beautiful.”

You can feel Wonwoo tense at the compliment and you fight the urge to rip your hand from his as you shake it, a tight-lipped smile being sent his way as he bowed your head.

“Nice to see you, Mr. Choi,” you greet. Seungcheol’s gaze falls between you and the man standing behind you, a knowing gleam in his eyes.

“Wonwoo you have yourself a dime here,” he compliments, smirking. “She has been nothing but amazing when it comes to the communication aspect. Not to mention she’s brilliant.”

Wonwoo keeps his hand on the small of your back while his other is outstretched towards his friend, the two shaking hands with a fierce grip as Wonwoo’s gaze hardens at the blonde.

“That she is,” he agreed. “I’m lucky to have her.”

Heat floods your cheeks at the competitive compliments between the two businessmen, a pleading look that screams ‘Help me’ is being sent towards Mingyu who stands behind Seungcheol with a puppy-like grin at the exchange, the taller man laughing quietly at your expense. Rolling your eyes, you break the silent competition between the two CEOs as you gesture towards the table.

“Shall we get started?”

Five hours. The presentation lasted for five fucking hours.

Between the glitches happening within the powerpoint and the constant stutter of your voice, you were positive that Seungcheol was going to stop the three of you halfway and just walk out – but he didn’t. Instead the blonde sat with a grin of amusement as you and Mingyu presented the possible numbers and outcomes of the two companies coming together for the project. Wonwoo sat stoic beside him, sharp eyes glued to you as you closed out of the final slide, anxiously awaiting his friend’s response as you clasped your hands together behind your back.

Seungcheol is beaming at you, dimples protruding from his cheeks, and he’s turning towards Wonwoo as he points in your direction.

“I like her,” he begins. “She’s got a strong head on her shoulders.”

Turning back towards you, Seungcheol leans on his elbows as he gestures towards the presentation.

“Despite the small hiccups from the technology, you did great, (Y/N),” he continues, praising you. “Both you and Mingyu did so well putting all of this together. I appreciate the dedication and hard work you’ve done for this, truly. Both of you would be an incredible asset to my company and I would absolutely be a fool to turn down the offer of working with both my friend and his amazing team.”

Surprise floods your features as you and Mingyu shoot each other identical looks of shock.

“Is – is that a yes for the project?”

Seungcheol laughs, nodding his head in affirmation.

“That’s a definite yes,” he beams. “It was a yes from the very first email you had sent me, if I’m honest. I just wanted to see what ideas you all had in mind – and I wanted to see this one sweat it out a little bit.”

You stifle a laugh as the blonde points to the stoic man behind him, Wonwoo grumbling under his breath as he rolls his eyes at his friend.

“So you just wanted to see me suffer?” Wonwoo asks, no emotion in his voice.

“Pretty much,” Seungcheol beams with amusement.

Wonwoo shakes his head as he stands up from his chair, his broad stature cracking with the release of tension as he stretches from sitting for so long.

“That’ll be it for today,” he dismisses, shooting Seungcheol a pointed look. “I think we’ve all been tortured enough.”

A wave of relief washes over you as your shoulders slump slightly, the tension being released from your body as you clean up the remnants of the presentation. From beside you, Mingyu is shooting you a thumbs up, silently praising your efforts before he’s packing up his laptop and zooming out of the room. As you zip up your bag and turn to leave, Seungcheol is gently grabbing your wrist to stop you, a playful look in his eyes as he offers you a small smile.

“You’re an extraordinary woman, Ms. (Y/N),” he compliments, and you feel your cheeks heat up as you fight to keep eye contact. “I have half a mind to steal you from Wonwoo and make you my own assistant.”

You open your mouth to retort when you feel the warmth of your boss press behind you, and you don’t even have to look up at him to know that he’s glaring daggers at the blonde.

“She would never leave me,” he dismisses, voice cold. “If there’s one thing I admire the most about Ms. (Y/N), it’s that she’s loyal to those around her.”

Wonwoo never breaks eye contact with Seungcheol, the two glaring daggers at one another as they stand tall and proud.

“Right, sweetheart?”

You swallow thickly, rolling your eyes at the ego exchange between the two of them, and you playfully hit Wonwoo’s shoulder before grabbing your things.

“Both of you need to relax,” you jest, playfully. “Mr. Choi, I appreciate the compliment but I fear that this one needs me the most.”

Seungcheol smirks at that, a knowing look in his eyes as he looks between you and Wonwoo.

“I’m starting to see that,” he responds, coolly.

Wonwoo stays silent as you make your way to the door, a weary glance thrown between the two of them before you’re opening it with a call over your shoulder.

“Try not to let your ego’s get the best of the two of you while I’m gone, please.”

And with that, you’re out the door before you can see Seungcheol wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at Wonwoo, the latter sending a glare of warning at the blonde who now caught on to the situation.

“(Y/N)!”

Your gaze lands on a beaming Soonyoung as you make your way through the crowd of bodies, a matching grin dancing across your lips as you reach where he stood. His arm lazily drapes around your shoulder in a half hug, the man’s infectious giggle ringing over the blaring music. Returning the embrace, you hug him in greeting before breaking apart. You can feel your friend vibrating with excitement as he grabs your hand and pulls you over to the roped off section where the rest of your friends were occupying. As soon as you cross the threshold, there’s a glass of champagne being placed in your hand and Soonyoung is tugging you towards the group.

“Look who finally showed up!”

Happy cheers of your name echoes amongst your group of friends, glasses being lifted in your direction as they greet you in unison. Lifting your glass in response, you beam at the group before downing the glass, warmth filling your body from the alcohol. From beside you Soonyoung cheers as you chug, the man wasting no time before shoving another drink into your now empty hand before scurrying off to the others. A chuckle falls from you as you watch him pull a half wasted Dokyeom to the dance floor, Seungkwan hot on their heels as the trio pulls out an abrupt dance routine.

Shaking your head at their antics, you take a seat next to Joshua at the table, the man offering you a gentle smile as he scoots to make room.

“It’s good to see you, (Y/N),” he greets. “It’s been too long since the last time you’ve come out with us.”

“I know,” you agree, regret washing over your features. “Work has been crazy lately. I haven’t really had much time to do anything else besides be at the office or trying to get some sleep.”

A look of sympathy flashes in his eyes, Joshua nodding in understanding.

“I get it,” he reassured you with a bright smile. “It sucks being an adult sometimes, doesn’t it?”

You laugh at his words before taking a sip of whatever it was that Soonyoung had given you.

“That it does, Shua. I sometimes wish we were kids again without a care in the world. No bills, no schedules — nothing but free time to do whatever we want.”

“Or until we get caught drinking in the school parking lot at midnight,” he points out, laughing.

“That’s different!” You say, taking another sip of your drink. “We would’ve never gotten caught had Soonyoung not brought out the Bluetooth microphone and started singing.”

Joshua’s head rolls back as he laughs louder, shaking his head at the memory.

“He really tried to get the cops to fall for his serenade,” he chortled. “We almost got locked in a cell for that one had it not been for me.”

You smile at the memory, gently tapping your glass against Shua’s.

“Thank god one of us had a brain that night,” you grin. “Otherwise we would’ve been screwed.”

Amusement twinkles in Joshua’s eyes and the brunette opens his mouth to speak before his gaze falls on a figure behind you, a deep voice cutting off his train of thought.

“Sorry we’re late, everyone.”

Your hand tightens around your glass at the voice, eyes widening in shock as your head snaps to look at the two figures towering over your table. The two familiar faces are night and day; one stands with a beaming smile, eyes shining and body bouncing to the beat of the music like an energetic puppy. The other is stoic, hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks while a pointed gaze rests underneath the thick rims of his glasses, his intense gaze sweeping over the group until it lands on your shocked ones.

Your lips part in disbelief, a string of curses tumbling incoherently from your mouth, and you straighten your posture as your boss stares back at you, dark eyes glinting with curiosity.

“You made it!”

Soonyoung’s boisterous voice booms over the loud music, the blonde drunkenly placing a glass of champagne in each of their hands before wrapping both of his arms around their shoulders and hugging them into him. From his right, Mingyu laughs boisterously, leaning into the embrace as he hugs his friend back.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he apologized. “We were finishing up at the office.”

From the left of Soonyoung, Wonwoo stays silent, his piercing gaze locked on yours, and you catch the briefest sight of his jaw clenching as Soonyoung gestures towards you.

“I’m not sure if you’ve ever met her before,” he begins, beaming from ear to ear. “But this is (Y/N), my best friend since we were in diapers.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, the beat echoing in your ears and drowning out the music as you stare at your colleagues. Mingyu’s face falls into pleasant surprise before he’s letting out a laugh, muscular arms crossing over his broad stature.

“Small world,” he comments, shooting a look between you and your boss. Soonyoung’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, a weary glance swept over the three of you.

“What do you mean?” The blonde asks curiously.

The scrutinizing gaze of your boss has you wanting to sink into the cushions of the booth and disappear, heat flaming your cheeks as the already too tight dress you were wearing somehow feels as if it’s melting into your skin, and you try to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat as Mingyu spoke once more.

“We work together,” he clarifies, a knowing smirk on his face. “She’s Wonwoo’s assistant.”

There’s a brief pause, realization sinking into Soonyoung’s features, before he’s turning towards the man on his left and smacking him on the shoulder.

“You’re her boss?!” He asks incredulously. “You’re the asshole who’s never giving her time off for a personal life?!”

Your eyes widened at his words, hands raising in defense as you move to kick Soonyoung in the shin.

“Soonyoung,” you hiss, glaring at the blonde.

Mingyu howls with laughter at that, his tall frame doubling over as he laughs at his friend. You’re mentally cursing at Soonyoung three times over as Wonwoo’s lips press into a thin line, the man sending a look of disapproval towards Mingyu who was holding his body up against Soonyoung, trying to calm himself down from the amusement. Your body grows hot with embarrassment as you run a hand over your face, wanting nothing more than for the ground to swallow you up.

“Yes,” Wonwoo finally says, deep voice rumbling with no amusement. “I’m the asshole boss.”

Soonyoung lands another playful tap against his friend’s chest, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“Give her a break, Wonu. She needs a vacation,” he pauses, looking between the two of you. “You both do.”

With one last love tap from Soonyoung, the blonde all but bounces back to the dance floor, Mingyu and Joshua in tow – leaving you and Wonwoo alone.

The tension in the air makes your throat dry, your shoulders sinking in embarrassment as you offer your boss an apologetic look.

“Mr. Jeon –”

“Your asshole boss, huh?”

Wonwoo’s harsh tone makes you want to crawl under a rock, shame filling your body, and your gaze sinks to the floor as you guiltily break eye contact.

‘He’s gonna fire me…’ You thought to yourself, trying to keep the panic that was seeping through your body at bay. ‘He’s going to tell me to pack my desk up and to never step foot into the building after tomorrow. That he’ll find a better assistant - one more compliant and who doesn’t talk back. Someone who says yes with no questions asked –’

“I suppose I deserve that.” Your head snaps back up, eyes wide with surprise, and there’s a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, brown eyes glinting in amusement. “Especially after all I’ve put you through this week.”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, completely taken aback by the compliment, and you struggle to conjure a reply in your scattered brain as you stutter in response.

“I –” you flush, embarrassed at the lack of words you can conjure. “Mr. Jeon –”

“Wonwoo,” he corrects.

There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he takes a step closer to slide across from where you sat in the booth.

“At the office, I’m Mr. Jeon,” he smiles softly. “But when we’re outside of work or if it’s just you and I, it’s Wonwoo.”

Oh, fuck…

There’s heat pooling in your stomach at his words, thousands of tiny butterflies fluttering in its depths, and suddenly it’s a thousand degrees hotter in the club than it already was. Your palms are clammy, sweat beading at the nape of your neck, and you manage to send him back a small smile as you nod in acknowledgement.

“Okay,” you concede, lifting your glass to take a sip. “Wonwoo.”

There’s a sharp inhale on his end, broad shoulders stiffening for a millisecond, before he offers you a kind smile. You watch as he takes a sip of his champagne, his gaze never breaking from yours.

“So you’re the unfortunate one who’s had to deal with Soonyoung for all of these years,” he smirks, teasingly. You can’t help but to laugh at that before shaking your head at his words.

“He’s really not as bad as you think,” you defend. “In a way it’s almost as if I’m taking care of a child.”

A beautiful, melodic deep rumble escapes him and you’d be lying if you said that the low timbre of his voice didn’t send a wave of heat straight in between your legs, instinctively making you subtly shift to crossing them underneath the table.

“Perhaps that is enough reason to offer a compensation for your efforts,” he drawls. “Maybe even a raise.”

You quirk an eyebrow at that, sending the man a playful glare.

“Don’t tease me,” you warn, grinning. “I might just take you up on that.”

Wonwoo smirks, butterflies erupting in your stomach as your eyes glanced down at his lips. A wave of desire rushes through you as a fleeting thought of what they would feel like against your skin runs through your mind, your throat going dry as an image of you and Wonwoo tangled in bedsheets flashed in your mind. Immediately you’re clearing your throat and tearing your gaze away, shame flaming your cheeks as you take a sip from your drink.

“How do you know Soonyoung?” You ask, making Wonwoo smile at the question.

“I had a project with his father in the past,” he explains. “Soonyoung was just starting out as his assistant and was learning the ropes of his father’s company. Naturally, I took him under my wing and became his business mentor. I know how hard it is to work in a company that’s family owned. Our fathers don’t go easy on us despite us being their sons.”

“From what it sounds like,” you began, smirking at him. “It seems to me as if you also need to be compensated as well for your efforts.”

Wonwoo laughs, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose slightly as he leans forward.

“Maybe Soonyoung’s right,” he grins. “Maybe we both need a vacation.”

Your eyebrow quirks at that, eyes glinting in curiosity as you peer at him.

“Are you offering me time off?”

“Maybe someday,” he teases, eyes shining mischievously. “The best I can offer you right now is a dance with me.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and the butterflies take flight once more, your eyes widening in surprise before you catch yourself. Clearing your throat, you take another sip of your drink before looking up at him teasingly.

“I didn’t realize you danced,” you jest.

Wonwoo pushes himself out of the booth before holding his hand out to you, silently offering. The warmth of his hand enveloping yours has electric shocks running down your spine as he helps you up, his hand cautiously placed on the small of your back as he leaned down towards you.

“I usually don’t,” he affirmed, a wild glint in his eye as he leaned closer to your ear. “But I can make an exception when it involves certain people.”

Had he not been guiding you, you were pretty sure your knees would’ve buckled from his comment, heat flooding your cheeks as you let him move you towards the dance floor. Playful banter and teasing comments had always been a part of the dynamic, given the frequent amount of time the two of you were around each other, harmless flirting here and there wasn’t unnatural. But this is the first time you were seeing him – that you were really looking at him – outside of an office setting.

The normal Wonwoo who was holed up in his office all day; barking orders and commands to his staff, the man who gives you endless tasks left and right, the man who sat rigidly by your side in countless board meetings and projects. The man who you thought was nothing but a ball of stress stuffed in a business suit now stood in front of you with nothing holding him back as he pulled your body flush against his. He’s carefree, a warm glow in his eyes, and he’s offering you the sweetest smile as the pair of you settle within the crowd. The usual long sleeves of his button down are rolled up neatly to his elbow, his broad frame nearly making the buttons protrude from the seams, and you’re silently wishing the heavens above to give you even the slightest peek of toned skin beneath the fabric.

His hand rests comfortably on your lower back, slender fingers almost gripping the fabric of your dress as the two of you danced amongst the crowd of people. The dim lighting casts his face in an exquisite shadow, the defined angular shape of his jaw accentuated in the low lights, making his sharp features appear even more striking beneath the thick rims of his glasses. He’s beautiful, almost godly like, and the heat of his toned body against yours is making your head spin.

For the first time, you’re seeing him.

Your hand is clasped in his as he twirls you out, then back into him, a devastatingly beautiful smile painted on his lips replacing the usual scowl he wore in the office. You can’t help but to mirror him, beaming in delight as the two of you dance.

“Who would’ve thought Mr. Jeon Wonwoo, big bad CEO, would be such a great dancer,” you tease him, relishing in the low rumble of his laugh. You watch as his nose crinkles with the action, your heart blooming in your chest as he leans in closer towards you.

“That’s not all I’m good at.”

If his words weren’t enough to send a flood of heat through your body, it was the goddamn wink he sent you that did it. You can’t even articulate words as Soonyoung beckons the two of you over to dance with the group, Wonwoo reluctantly letting you go as the two of you made your way over to them.

You weren’t sure when the exact moment was that the line between you and your boss had begun to shift into something else, something far beyond a workplace partnership — but after tonight, it was an inevitable change.

And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious to see where it went next.

You felt the presence before they had even uttered a word, your gaze shifting from your computer to the smirking face of the man in front of you as he leaned against your desk.

“So,” he began. “Are we going to talk about it?”

You gave him a blank stare.

“Talk about what?” You asked, even though you knew what he was hinting at.

“C’mon, (Y/N),” Mingyu whines, standing upright to bounce on his feet. “We can’t not talk about what happened the other night.”

You purse your lips at his words as you rub your temples in annoyance. You knew you couldn’t avoid the situation in its entirety, but you also knew that addressing it would imply that there was something… there to begin with — and there wasn’t. At least, not yet.

“Nothing happened,” you reply curtly. “I was out with friends.”

Mingyu scoffs, arms crossing over his broad chest as he gives you an incredulous look.

“So we’re not going to talk about how the two of you were practically fucking on the dance floor.”

You blanched at that, eyes widening in surprise, and you’re casting a weary glance towards the open door behind you. Wonwoo sits idly in concentration at his desk, the man scribbling something down on his notepad.

“Lower your voice,” you hissed at Mingyu once you turned back towards him. “He’s right there.”

“You didn’t deny it,” Mingyu beams.

“We were just dancing!” You defended. “It was harmless. And innocent, contrary to popular belief.”

“Innocent?” He mocks, raising an eyebrow. “He doesn’t just dance with anyone, (Y/N). Especially not like that.”

You try to ignore the sudden presence of fluttering in the pit of your stomach, the butterflies flying freely through your body as your mind flashes back to the dance you had shared with your boss. The warmth of his body against yours, the gentle brush of his lips against your ear, the teasing words exchanged… It had all been too much to process in one night — and, yet in the same breath, not enough.

“Well whether it was or not, nothing’s going to come from it. Nothing can come from it.”

A look of sympathy flashes across Mingyu’s face at that, his round eyes narrowing with pity.

“You never know,” he reassured with a gentle smile. “There’s always a chance that something could happen.”

You scoff at that, rolling your eyes as you turn back to your computer.

“Not as long as he’s my boss,” you muttered.

Mingyu opened his mouth to retort when a throat clears from behind the two of you. Almost immediately you’re whipping around to see Wonwoo leaning against the doorframe of his office, an accusing glance being thrown towards you and Mingyu as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Is there a problem?”

Wonwoo’s voice is harsh, sharp eyes shifting between the two of you before he’s zeroing in on your gaze. His shoulders are straightened in a tension and you bite back a whimper as you watch the taut muscles of his chest strain against the confinements of his button down.

“N- no, sir,” you stuttered out, shaking your head. “Mingyu just had a question regarding the merger with Mr. Choi.”

Wonwoo’s lips press into a thin line, his jaw clenching as his gaze shifts to Mingyu, the aforementioned man peeling himself from your desk as he straightens his posture.

“That’s right,” Mingyu agrees. “I had a quest —“

“The next time you have a question about anything regarding business matters you come see me,” Wonwoo cuts him off with a harsh glare. “Ms. (Y/N) has enough on her plate. She doesn’t need you bothering her too. Nor do I appreciate you distracting her from her work.”

There’s a brief flash of shock dancing across Mingyu’s face, his big eyes widening at his friend’s words, before realization takes its place and he’s grinning like a kid in a candy shop.

“Oh,” he beams. “I get it.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrow in a scrutinizing gaze while you stare at your boss, mouth slightly ajar from his earlier statement.

“Mr. Jeon it’s really not a big deal —“

“You’re dismissed, Mingyu. (Y/N), my office. Now.”

The contrast between the Wonwoo you had seen at the club compared to the one that was in front of you now was like night and day. The other night he had been carefree, lively, and sweet. The man that stood in front of you now was cold. The playful twinkle in his eyes had completely vanished, instead, replaced by a harsh glare as he all but stomped back into his office.

You’re completely ridden speechless as you watch your boss’s retreating form, a painful tug at your heartstrings has a frown forming on your lips.

Mingyu lets out a low whistle.

“I seem to have awakened the beast.”

Your head snaps back to look at his smirking face, a knowing glint in his eyes as he nods his head in the direction of Wonwoo’s office.

“Maybe true love’s kiss can melt his cold heart.”

Without thinking you’re reaching for your pen before chucking it in Mingyu’s direction, a bark of a laugh escaping him as he’s running away. Grumbling under your breath, you make a mental note to get him back later when a shout comes from behind you.

“(Y/N)!”

Your blood runs cold at the harsh call of your name, worry flooding your body as you hastily push yourself from your desk to make your way to Wonwoo’s office, panic running through you as you cross the threshold.

“Close the door behind you,” he orders, head nodding in the direction of the door, and you’re on high alert as the open barrier becomes sealed, leaving the two of you in his office. Alone.

Nervously you’re taking a seat in front of him, your ankles crossing as you sit with your shoulders tensed up. Wonwoo’s stare makes you want to curl up into a ball and hide, the intensity of his gaze sending goosebumps of anxiety up the nape of your neck.

Wonwoo inhales a sharp breath, nostrils flaring as he exhales, and he’s gritting his jaw as his hands fold in front of him on his desk.

“Is Mingyu bothering you?”

Confusion sweeps over you as your eyebrows furrow.

“Bothering me?” You ask, and you watch as Wonwoo’s knuckles turn white from clenching his hands together.

“Bothering you,” he says again. “Flirting with you? Asking you on dates? All of the above?”

Your eyes widen at his questions, your hands coming up in defense as you shake your head.

“No!” You deny. “None of the above. Absolutely none of the above.”

There’s a slight release of tension in his shoulders but his stoic face remains the same.

“If he was you would tell me, right?” He asks, giving you a pointed look.

“Of course,” you affirm. “If anyone was bothering me I would let you know.”

Wonwoo’s gaze stays locked on you as he digests your words, the man slowly unclenching his hands before he nods in response.

“Good,” he relents. “I wouldn’t want to lose one of my best employee’s because he doesn’t know how to control himself.”

You can feel the heat dance across your cheeks at his implication, embarrassment filling your body as you sink into the chair further.

“It’s never been like that,” you reassure him. “Only friendly banter.”

Wonwoo nods, accepting your words.

“I believe you,” he reaffirmed.

A tense silence falls over the two of you, the air thickening around you as you swallow the nervous lump that had formed in your throat from when he had called you into his office. His intense stare has you breaking eye contact in an effort to gain your composure, a ragged breath escaping you as your gaze zeroes into a random plank of wood on his floor.

“Is that all you needed from me?” You ask meekly, not lifting your head to look at him.

There’s a brief silence before Wonwoo responds.

“How’s the project going?”

Right… the project, of course.

Straightening your posture, you reluctantly lifted your head from the floor and met Wonwoo’s gaze once more. Those damned butterflies return instantly when you see the corners of his lips turn up into a small smile.

“Good,” you breathed out. “I’m finishing up the presentation for our next monthly board meeting. We’ve been making a lot of progress since we met up with Mr. Choi —“

“Have you eaten yet?” Wonwoo cuts you off, making your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sudden question.

“Not yet,” you respond. “I was planning to work on a few more things before I took a break.”

“You should join me for lunch,” he offers a gentle smile, a complete contrast to the frown he had when you had first walked into the office.

“I — I have so much to do, Mr. Jeon —“

“I’m sure it can wait,” he reassures you. “Besides, you can’t work on an empty stomach.”

Pushing himself away from his desk, Wonwoo stands up and throws his blazer on as he nods his head in the direction of the door.

“As your boss, I’m requesting that you have lunch with me.”

You frown at that.

“That’s not fair,” you mutter. “You know I can’t say no to you.”

“Precisely,” Wonwoo grins as he helps you up from the chair.

Your lips pursed in thought as you stared at the man before you. Not even ten minutes ago he was a huffing and puffing mess, anger flaring in his cold dark eyes. Now he stood in front of you with that same mischievous glint in his irises like the other night. The constant back and forth between his emotions is giving you a metaphorical whiplash.

“Fine,” you concede. “But you’re buying.”

Wonwoo doesn’t smirk in response, nor does he wave you off. Instead he’s tipping his head back and letting out a hearty laugh, the deep rumble making your heart pound in your chest as you stare dumbfoundedly at the man in front of you.

“I can work with that,” he agreed, beaming. “We can discuss more about this presentation as well.”

The dimly lit restaurant you’re taken to does nothing to rid you of the untamable butterflies fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach as you sit across from Wonwoo. You can feel the nervous jitters in your body as you try not to tremble beneath your boss’s gaze while you try to keep your attention focused on the menu, your teeth biting into your bottom lip as you stoically stare at the page.

The romantic ambience of the restaurant is telling of itself; low lighting, soft music playing, and a waiter filling a glass of wine for you — a glass of which Wonwoo approved for you to drink despite you being on the clock. A drink which, also, did absolutely nothing for your nerves.

“See anything you like?”

Wonwoo’s deep voice pulls you from your inner turmoil and you’re reluctantly breaking your gaze from the menu to look up at him. His glasses are perched comfortably on the bridge of his nose, his lips offering a gentle smile, a smile that you can’t help but to let your gaze fall on as you stare at the curve of his Cupid’s bow.

“A few things,” you murmur, nodding at him. “There’s so many options.”

“Well,” he pauses, gesturing towards the menu. “If you trust me, I’ll order for us.”

Your eyebrow piques in interest at that, a teasing look dancing in your eyes.

“Yeah?” You muse, humming softly. “You think you know me that well?”

Wonwoo smirks as he places his menu down, his sharp eyes giving you a once over that sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy.

“I’d like to think so,” he responds, giving you a knowing look.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you give him a playful look back as you lean against the cushion of the chair.

“What’s my favorite color?” You ask.

His smirk doesn’t falter at your question.

“Purple,” he answers. “More specifically, a light purple. Like lilac or lavender.”

You blanched at that, not expecting him to actually answer, let alone know the answer.

“Oh,” you said quietly, blinking in surprise.

“You mentioned to me once that the colors represent kindness and innocence. Two things which you felt represented both yourself and what you wanted people to gain from you.”

Your heart soared in your chest at his words, a feeling of gratitude sweeping over you as you offered him a shy smile.

“You remembered,” you murmured, making Wonwoo smile in response.

“I remember a lot of things about you.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. His response had rendered you speechless and you were utterly grateful for the waiter’s timing as he came back to your table to take your orders — which Wonwoo took care of. You could barely register what was exchanged between the two as you stared at your boss in admiration, completely melting on the spot from his response.

Your eyes are still locked on the beautiful man in front of you as the waiter takes both of the menus, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage as the two of you are left alone once more. The flickering flame of the candle casts a shadow along Wonwoo’s face, the dim lighting accentuating his strong jaw and sharp eyes as he leans forward on his elbows.

Blinking out of your daze, you swallow the lump of nervousness before clearing your throat.

“So the project is going well,” you began, taking a sip of your wine. “Mingyu has been working on the potential projections of the outcome and I’ve got the PowerPoint almost finished. We’re a little past the halfway point now.”

Wonwoo says nothing. He only offers you a small smile in response.

“I think we can really pull this off,” you continued. “Between your brilliant business mind and Mr. Choi’s ability to persuade pretty much anyone, the two of you are in the midst of creating something amazing.”

There’s a mischievous glint in Wonwoo’s eyes as he looks at you, the smile on his face not faltering once.

“You think I’m brilliant?”

You flush at his words before shifting nervously in your seat, lifting your glass of wine to your lips as you take another sip.

“I mean,” you purse your lips, giving him a knowing look. “You wouldn’t be the CEO if you weren’t.”

You spot the slightest clench in his jaw as his soft features harden at your words.

“I’m the CEO because my father stepped down,” he pointed out. You frown at that.

“Mr. Jeon —“

“Wonwoo,” he cuts you off sharply.

His brash tone deters you for a moment, hurt flashing in your eyes before you mask it with confusion.

“What?” You ask meekly.

“Do you remember what I said at the club?” He asks, the harsh tone still evident in his voice. “Do you remember anything from that night?”

“Of course I do,” you defended yourself. “I wasn’t even tipsy.”

Wonwoo’s jaw sets as he grits his teeth.

“Then you should remember that I said to call me by name when we’re alone.”

And just like that the butterflies are back with a vengeance — only to multiply tenfold when he leans across the table to grab your hand in his, lacing your fingers together before resting it back onto the table.

“Wonwoo…”

His name falls from your lips in a hushed voice, heat pooling in your stomach as he squeezed your hand in reassurance.

“You’re nervous,” he points out, smirking. You frown at that.

“Can you blame me?” You ask incredulously, gesturing towards your linked hands. “I’m holding hands with my boss.”

“You’re holding hands with your friend,” he corrects. “A friend who just so happens to be your boss. A boss that you’re also on a date with.”

Your mouth slacks at that, eyes widening in shock as you make a move to draw back only for him to tighten his grip so you can’t move away from him. His thumb sweeps over the back of your hand in an effort to soothe you but it only makes the heat in your belly spread to your lower body, your thighs clenching in response as you look away bashfully.

“I thought this was a business lunch,” you mutter, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. Wonwoo lets out a low chuckle.

“Did you not want this to be a date?”

Your face falls at that.

“It’s not that I don’t want this to be a date,” you reassure him. “It’s that… this can’t be a date.”

“And why not?” He asks, eyebrows raised in question. You blink at him.

“You’re my boss,” you reiterate. “Whether we’re friends outside of work or not you’re still my boss, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo stares back with a blank look on his face.

“I fail to see your point, (Y/N).”

Before you could reply, the waiter had returned with both of your plates of food, placing them in front of each of you before refilling your wine glass. Wonwoo’s sharp gaze is still locked on yours, his grip on your hand refusing to let go, and he watches intently as you take a long swig of the alcohol. Your nerves are completely shot, mind going haywire from the conversation, and the wine is only intensifying the heat between your legs as you try to collect yourself.

And then he’s bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your skin. Your breath hitches and Wonwoo catches it, smirking in response.

“Eat your food, sweetheart. It’s going to get cold.”

The bustling diner is thriving with patrons as you sit with Soonyoung and Joshua in a booth at the corner of the room, the two of them engaging in an animated conversation as you sit idly across from them, your mind completely far off from where you were currently at.

Ever since the night of Soonyoung’s party it’s like your world has been flipped upside down and spinning on its axis. Wonwoo has gotten more brazen in his advances; leaving you flowers on your desk, buying you lunch, fleeting touches of hands brushing as you pass each other in the hallway. The actions are subtle, most of the other employee’s not seeming to catch onto the attraction between the two of you, all except Mingyu who has decided to make it his life mission to get the two of you together.

After finding out that Wonwoo had taken you out to lunch (and called it a date) or much less, finding out that his boss had subtly confessed his feelings to you, he’s taken it upon himself to play Cupid — much to your dismay. Because even though your feelings for Wonwoo were strong, and grew more and more with each romantic gesture, the fact of the matter is, he's still your boss.

A heavy sigh breaks your friends from their conversation, two pairs of concerned eyes looking at you from across the table. Joshua frowns, Soonyoung’s eyebrows furrow. The former leans across the table to place a gentle hand on yours, and a part of you longed for it to have been Wonwoo’s in its place instead.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, (Y/N)?” Joshua asks softly, making you heave another sigh.

“I’m falling in love with somebody I can’t have,” you muttered, making Soonyoung’s eyes widen.

“Honey…” Joshua coos, rubbing your hand in soothing circles.

Your heart twinges with hurt as your face falls, shoulders slumped as a frown forms on your lips.

“I don’t even know how this happened,” you began, pouting. “One day he was my boss… the next he’s the man I want to come home to every night.”

Realization sweeps over Soonyoung’s face at your words, his lips parting in surprise.

“Wonwoo?” He asks, making Joshua’s eyebrows furrow in question. “You’re in love with Wonwoo?”

“How do you know it’s Wonwoo?” Joshua counters, but the look on your face is enough confirmation.

“Wonwoo is my boss,” you clarify. “I didn’t know he was friends with Soonyoung until he showed up to his party.”

“Oh,” Joshua mutters.

“And I’m not in love with him,” you glared at Soonyoung. “Not yet, at least. Although if he keeps getting me flowers and buying me food it’ll be a different story.”

“He’s what?!” Soonyoung gapes, open mouthed.

A wave of heat washes over your cheeks, embarrassment flooding your body as you bashfully look down at the table.

“He’s been getting me gifts,” you admitted softly. “I’ll come into the office in the morning to either a bouquet of flowers or a nice warm meal waiting for me. Sometimes both if he’s in a good mood.”

Soonyoung’s shock doesn’t falter, Joshua gives you a knowing look.

“Sounds like the feelings are mutual,” Joshua points out. “Maybe you should give him a chance —“

“He’s my boss, Shua,” you counter. “That’s a line I’m not allowed to cross.”

“Maybe you should cross it,” Soonyoung cuts in.

“I can’t —“

“(Y/N), I love you. We’ve been friends since we were in diapers, I wouldn’t steer you wrong. So believe me when I say that in the years that I’ve known Wonwoo, not once has he ever gotten a woman a gift, let alone tried to pursue one willingly.”

You freeze at that.

Knowing how invested he is with his job, it makes sense that Wonwoo wouldn’t have time to date nor be able to court a woman. But, in the same token, nobody that gorgeous and down to earth couldn’t have had someone he was the least bit interested in.

“I don’t know if I believe that,” you mutter. “Have you seen him? There’s gotta be women wanting him from every corner of the world.”

“Women may want him, honey, but he wants nothing to do with them,” Soonyoung pauses, a knowing look on his face. “Unless it’s you, apparently.”

Joshua chuckles at that, a reassuring smile on his face as he reaches over to place a hand on yours.

“Just think about it,” he suggests, encouragingly. “Weigh out the pro’s and con’s and go from there.”

Nodding in acknowledgement, you opted to stay silent and focus on the menu instead, pushing away any thought of your boss and his feelings towards you as you ignore those damned butterflies in your stomach.

PROS:

Despite his rigid appearance, he’s quite kind

He listens to me when I have ideas and encourages me to speak up in board meetings despite my lack of status

He remembers things about me – which is still utterly baffling

He’s patient

He’s handsome (unfairly so)

Gift giving as a love language… along with words of affirmation (both a plus for me - dating or not)

CONS:

He’s my boss

The list stares at you with a daunting realization that, yes, the pro’s absolutely outweighed the single con that you could come up with – and, yet, in the same token, so much was at stake if you made the decision to further your relationship with your boss. With every pro that you could list, the thought of ‘He’s my boss’ still outnumbered the choice that your heart had been dying for you to make.

A heavy sigh escapes you as you stare at the word document, lips pursed in thought as your mind flutters back to the conversation you had with Joshua and Soonyoung.

“Maybe you should cross it.”

The line between you and Wonwoo had always been slightly blurred. Between endless flirty compliments and comments and looks that a boss and his assistant should not have been giving to one another, you knew that it had never just been a workplace friendship between the two of you. Not when you would spend countless nights wondering what it would be like to have your boss laying next to you, broad muscly arms enveloping you in a warmth you never wanted to be free of.

And that was what scared you.

“What is that?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of Wonwoo’s voice behind you, a shriek escaping you as you click on your email app to pop up instead of the word document, heat flooding your cheeks with embarrassment as you turn to meet the curious gaze of your boss.

“My grocery list,” you reply, lying through your teeth. “I have to pick up a few things on my way home and I didn’t want to forget anything so I wrote it down.”

Wonwoo peers curiously, sharp eyes resting underneath the thick rims of his glasses, and there’s a smirk of amusement on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well I don’t think you have to worry about them tonight,” he replies, coolly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his words.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re going out tonight,” he clarified, his smirk widening when surprise floods your face.

“Going… out?” You ask, dumbly. “Going out where?”

“Well, since Soonyoung found out that I’m your boss, he’s taken it upon himself to guilt trip me into not only going out tonight, but to bring you along as well.”

A groan escapes you at that, your hand running over your face with embarrassment as Wonwoo chuckles lightly.

“Oh, god,” you whined. “Mr. Jeon I’m sorry –”

“Wonwoo.”

Your gaze meets his amused one as you lifted your head to look at him.

“Wonwoo,” you corrected, looking around the empty office. “He doesn’t understand the term ‘boundaries’ sometimes.”

“I know,” he grins. “Which is why I told him we would both be there.”

You frown at that, looking back towards your computer as you stared at the word app, your mind fluttering to the list that you had been working on.

“I –” you paused, biting the inside of your lip. “I have so much work to do –”

“Sweetheart, I'm offering you a break,” he laughs quietly, looking at you with an expectant look. “Are you really going to turn that down?”

‘He’s your boss, (Y/N). Say no. You know what can happen if you’re stuck with him.’

“Fine,” you concede, sighing softly. “But I have to run home and get changed.”

If the thought of another night out with your boss didn’t already make your heart race, it was the words he whispered to you after that definitely made heat pool between your thighs.

“Why?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow. “You’re beautiful already.”

Your eyes widened at his compliment, your throat tightening, and you swallowed the lump that had formed out of nervousness before waving him off.

“If you say so,” you dismissed, shutting down your computer. Wonwoo only beams, nose crinkling with happiness as he offers you his arm.

Wonwoo was glued to your side the moment the two of you had stepped into the club, his hand resting on your lower back as he carefully guided you through the crowd. Bodies were pressed against each other without a care in the world, the party goers dancing without thought as they enjoyed their night, and a part of you envied them — envying that they didn’t have to think about the man currently pressing you against him as he shuffles the two of you towards your friends.

The heat from Wonwoo’s body completely engulfs you as he pressed himself against you, the hand that was on your back now sliding to the dip of your hip as he pulls you into him. The scent of his cologne fills your senses and draws you to him, your body molding into his as he leans down to press his lips against your ear.

“Soonyoung is right there,” he points, gesturing towards the bubbly blonde now dancing with Seungkwan. “I’ll meet you over there. I’m getting us drinks.”

Before you can say anything, a chaste kiss is being pressed to your cheek. Your eyes widened as your boss slithered through the dancing bodies, shock filling you at the gentle brush of his lips on your skin as your mind tried to wrap around the fact that your boss had just kissed you. Butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach at the gesture, your heart speeding up in your chest, and you can only suck in the shyness of the blush now heating your cheeks before you’re making your way towards your group of friends.

Joyful cheers erupt from the bunch as you come into view, glasses being held up in a toast as they acknowledge your arrival. You’re met with Soonyoung’s beaming face as you take a seat beside him, the bubbly blonde wrapping an arm around you as he gives you a one armed hug.

“From now on I’m just going to force Wonwoo to hang out with me,” he says, jokingly. “That seems to be the only way I can get you here!”

A small laugh escapes you as you shake your head at your friend, rolling your eyes playfully.

“It was a low blow, Soonie,” you reprimand, giving him a look. “You can’t boss him around just so that we can accompany you while you’re out.”

Soonyoung pouts, batting his eyes.

“But you’re my friends,” he whines. “And the two of you work too much! It wouldn’t kill you to be somewhere that’s not the office or home every once in a while!”

“He’s got a point, honey,” Dokyeom interjects, looking distractedly behind you. “Wonwoo has you working crazy hours day in and day out. You need a break to decompress.”

“He’s right.”

The deep voice rumbling behind you makes you lift your head as your gaze falls on a smiling Wonwoo, the man placing your drink in front of you before sliding next to you in the booth. Your breath catches in your throat the moment his leg pressed against yours, the heat emanating off of him like he’s your own personal furnace. His sharp gaze is locked on yours as he reaches to lazily drape his arm around you, and you don’t have to look at Soonyoung to know that he’s sitting there smirking as he and Wonwoo lock eyes.

“Nice of you to join us, Wonu,” Soonyoung piped up. “I almost would’ve thought (Y/N) came here alone.”

“Now what kind of man would I be if I let my beautiful assistant come here by herself?”

A chorus of snorts falls upon the group, identical knowing looks on each one of their faces as they gazed upon you and Wonwoo. Heat floods your cheeks as you look down at the table bashfully, biting back a smile as Wonwoo pulls you into him.

Soonyoung can’t help but to smirk as he watches the two of you, a knowing glance being thrown towards your boss as he chuckles.

“I’ve never seen her so shy before,” he coos, making you groan in embarrassment. Wonwoo grins.

“Come to the office and you’ll see more of it,” he teases, and you playfully tap his shoulder in response.

“Stop,” you whined, pouting. “It’s not my fault you’re a shameless flirt.”

Wonwoo’s grin doesn’t falter, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Only with you, sweetheart.”

A unanimous coo falls from the group as they beamed at the two of you, taking in the flirty banter between you and your boss before deciding to give the two of you some time to yourselves. Soonyoung and Dokyeom are making a beeline for the dance floor while Joshua and Seungkwan head towards the bar, and you can already feel the nervous fluttering of those damned butterflies as Wonwoo’s soft gaze peers into yours.

A feline smirk is on his lips, his gaze resting underneath the thick rims of his glasses, and he’s leaning down towards your ear, lips brushing the outer shell and sending a wave of heat through your body.

“Would you like to dance with me?”

His voice is quiet, the low tone reverberating against your body, and you can’t help but to shiver as his breath fanned against your skin. You take a sip of your drink before turning your head to look at him, eyes shining playfully.

“You sure you don’t want to dance with anyone else?” You asked, half teasing half serious. “I’m sure there’s plenty of women who would gladly take you up on it.”

Wonwoo’s face hardens at your words, jaw clenching as he gives you a stern look.

“I don’t want anyone but you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at that, lips parting slightly in shock, and you peered into the earnestness of Wonwoo’s eyes as he reaches to grab your hand. The butterflies multiply tenfold as he lifts it to his lips, gently pressing a kiss to your knuckles before he’s wordlessly sliding out of the booth and pulling you up to him.

A protective arm wraps around your waist as your chest presses against his, his gaze never leaving yours as he rests his palm against your cheek.

“Dance with me.”

It’s a soft murmur rumbling from him and the intensity of his gaze can only make you nod in silence before allowing yourself to be willingly pulled to the dance floor.

Strong arms enveloped around your waist as you’re tugged into his broad chest, your arms looping around his neck, and the sultry song playing in the background does absolutely nothing for your nerves as your bodies move to the beat of the song. Wonwoo’s heated gaze is locked on yours, his sharp eyes framed underneath his glasses, and the intensity of him renders your mind thoughtless as a wave of heat flows straight to the pulsing core of your thighs as his body rolls into yours.

A soft mewl falls from you as you mirror his movements, your hands fisting in his hair as your hips swayed against his. Wonwoo grits his teeth as he leans down closer to you, his nose grazing yours as his hands clutched at the fabric of your shirt.

The heat between the two of you grows several degrees hotter as Wonwoo turns you in his arms, your back now flush against his chest, and his head dips to rest in the crook of your neck as your ass rolls into his groin. There’s a broken moan falling from him and he’s gripping onto you for dear life as he grinds his body into yours. Your hands are still fisted through his hair as his teeth graze against your skin, a whine falling from you as you tilt your neck to give him more access.

“Wonwoo…”

The sound of his name falling from you sends your boss into a frenzy, his hands clutching your body to him as he rolls his clothed cock against your ass. His teeth bite down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder as he sucks the skin into his mouth, marking you with a soothing flick of his tongue.

“Be mine,” he murmurs against your skin, drawing you out of your lust-filled haze. A frown paints itself across your lips as you try to turn in his arms, only to have Wonwoo tighten his arms and lock you in place.

“I can’t…” you whisper, and Wonwoo shakes his head as he nips against your collarbone.

“Don’t think about tomorrow, sweetheart,” he responds. “Think about now. Think about how we’re two people who very clearly care about each other.”

Your brain is screaming at you to pull away, to not risk anything more than what has already happened, but when his hot breath is fanning across your skin and his hardening cock is pressing up against your ass it’s hard to pull away. So, instead, you’re gaining the strength to turn in his arms and pull his head back down to your neck, fishing your hands through his hair as you arch into his touch. Wonwoo growls against your skin as needy hands drop to the curve of your ass, squeezing the flesh as your bodies grind to the beat of the music.

Everything around you all but disappears as the two of you melt into one another, not a care in the world as Wonwoo mouths hotly at your neck, tongue and teeth marking any visible inch of skin that he can latch onto.

‘Just for tonight,’ you thought to yourself. ‘I can indulge myself just for a night.’

If only it was ever that easy.

[drmaddict]

One or Two Books my Ass

Summary: modern!Aegon writes erotic books. (Y/n) finds out and Aegon's self-doubt takes over.

Wordcount: 658

Warnings: mention of a mommy kink (like in the last sentence), no use of (Y/n), no actual smut, just fluff

"No! NO!" Aegon snatched the pages, she had found on his desk from her hand and pressed them to his chest.

She looked at him in bewilderment. "Did you write this?"

"No.", he said sulkily. "That's... from the internet", he babbled and put the thin script in a lockable drawer.

"Ah. And the editor's notes were from the internet too?"

Aegon's face looked stubbornly at the drawer. "Just a hobbie.", he muttered, but his jaw was grinding. He left the room, but she quickly followed him.

"That's really good!", she called after him. "Aegon, I'm serious. You're writing?"

He flopped down on the sofa in the living room. He sighed. "I might have one or two books... published.", he sulked.

She sat down next to him, irritated. "That's actually something most people would be proud of, mouse." She put his legs on her thighs and stroked his calves.

He stubbornly looked at the ceiling. "I write porn. Go on. Make fun of me." he grumbled. "Like everyone else." He mumbled so quietly that she almost didn't hear him.

"You write erotica and it seems you do it very well. It's not an easy genre."

He laughed spitefully. "Sure."

She sighed. Who had told him again, that it wasn't worth anything? His brother? His mum? She continued to stroke his leg. "Tell me. Who put the flea in your ear?"

He closed his eyes in surrender. "My nephew - Luke - found my first script. It was about to be published. I was actually kind of proud." He scratched at the bit of callus on his thumb, as he always did when he got nervous. "He ran into the dining room and read it out loud, laughing. The rare times my father looked at me, he just looked at me dismissively, my mum was ashamed of me and Aemond was almost bursting with glee for my embarrassment. From then on, my nephews only called me Porn-Shakspear."

He curled up and buried his face in the pillows.

"Why are you still doing it if you're so embarrassed?", she asked gently.

"It makes money.", he mumbled.

She laughed. "Your family is rich."

"But it's my money.", he explained sadly. "I'm not a lawyer. I'm not a CEO. I'm not a manager. I'm not smart, but... apparently I can, do that..." He sighed devotedly. "At least I can do that."

She squeezed herself between him and the back of the sofa. She gently pulled him into her arms. He buried his face in her chest. "I really like it. Apart from that, I actually really like reading things like that. Do you have a pen name? Maybe I've read something of yours before.", she smiled and kissed the top of his head.

"A.I.I. Black.", he just mumbled.

"What?", she blurted out?

He looks up at her in confusion. Fear was in his eyes.

"I bloody love your books!", she declared.

He blushed and buried himself against her chest again.

"Do you know, how many times we read you at book club?", she asked with a laugh.

"Stop it.", he whined, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist so she couldn't force him to look at her.

She gave up and started stroking his hair. He was almost purring at that.

"One or two books my ass. Bestsellers Aegon! Several worldwide bestsellers! Wait a minute. How much do you make from that?"

He bit his lip in embarrassment. "Let's just say it's weird being a billionaire heir and a self-made millionaire at the same time."

"You bloody little genius." She tousled his hair. "And your asshole-family probably doesn't even suspect a thing."

"So you're not embarrassed by me?", he asked meekly.

"Of course not.", she mumbled softly into his hair, "But-"

He did look up now. She grinned. "I have a few things I want to try."

He smiled. "Anything you want... Mommy?"

"My good boy.", she praised and kissed him quickly on his forehead.

"Fuck."

[bbina]

love: terms and conditions may apply [teaser] — zcl.

synopsis: ??? pairing: ceo!chenle x ceo!reader genre: arranged marriage!au, ceo!au, one sided enemies to lovers (at the start), fluff, angst (to be decided), unfortunately slow burn (another victim of bbina's slowburn) so that means lots of tension for no reason, y/n is kinda a bitch for the most part and chenle is.. chenle notes: initially for chenle's birthday but i got too carried away and the fact this shit isnt even done despite me posting this little teaser is beyond me. when will we see this full fic? 2025? 2026? who knows. obviously on the final post there would be graphics n shit but since this is just a teaser then this will suffice. but here's the moodboard for this lmfao estimated total word count: 30k???

sitting in the passenger seat, you stare at the diamond ring wrapped around your ring finger. it's to represent love— something you're yet to feel

it almost feels daunting that your life has come to this. engaged at twenty one to some fellow billionaire tycoon heir who was also around your age. you should be at the club wasting your youth away but no, you are forced to embrace your new reality. an engaged woman at that

your life has always been served on a silver platter. it only takes a lift of your finger to get whatever you want, whenever you want

"it's a perfect life!", one would say. while that was true for the most part, there were obviously some drawbacks to this kind of life

while you could get all the material things in the world as money will never be a problem, some things were just unattainable even if you had all the money in the world such as true love

your life has been planned out for you the moment you were brought upon this world. it was planned that by the time you turn twenty three, the age where you are deemed responsible, you would get engaged to someone who is worthy of marrying the likes of you, an heiress to one of the biggest companies in korea and that you would now take over of the family business

your father did not waste a single second hitching you up with certified bachelors who have ultra high profiles. the ones he deems to be worthy to be your husband

and no, you did not have any say nor do with all of this. one night you just found yourself in your dining room with guests, as your maids have mentioned.

that very night, little did you know that you were actually meeting your soon to be husband. the same night you found out that you were getting married to him by the time cherry blossoms would bloom during spring

"we're here" a voice interrupts your trance

you look out the window to see that you've arrived at the location of your father's gala. the flashing lights were a dead giveaway that there were paparazzi present as usual. your father's company is a big name in the business world after all

huffing, you start to unbuckle your seatbelt but a hand stops you

"don't go out just yet. wait for me to open the door"

you rolled your eyes. of course. your father's little plan has officially started. how could you forget? you literally just had a conversation about how you and your soon to be husband would make a grand entrance at the gala entrance knowing there would be paparazzi waiting outside

the camera flashes intensifies the moment your fiance gets out of the car, rushing to get to your side. he flashes a smile in front of the paparazzi before bowing ever so slightly to open the passenger seat to reveal you

he barely gave you time to compose yourself when your fiance opened your door. you grit your teeth but you managed to make it look like you were cheesing over his "chivalrous" act. that motherfucker even held his hand out for you to take as you step out of his vehicle

you straightened your dress and smiled in front of the cameras. you can feel your fiance's hand snake their way towards your waist as he pulls you closer to him, posing ever so professionally in front of the flashing lights

"over here!"

"y/n! look here!"

chenle, your fiance, then suddenly leans down ever so slightly, just above the shell of your ear

"smile and nod for the cameras"

you resisted the urge to roll your eyes right then and there. chenle was probably having the time of his life tormenting you like this. he knew damn well that you couldn't say no against your father and to see you like this, was simply enough for chenle to enjoy

zhong chenle. the heir of the infamous zhong co. the same man that your father had graciously picked to be your soon to be wedded husband in due time

you’ve heard about the name zhong chenle for a long time now. his family business has always been the talk of the town. a chinese tycoon who slowly started their global expansion who already marked their first expansion in korea— a successful one at that

naturally, your father saw this as a competition and what better move could he plot than binding the two heirs and heiresses of the respective companies to tie the knot and come to a forced— joint partnership to eliminate the competition from the get go?

so now you’re here. smiling and posing for the cameras knowing damn well where this was going. inside scoops, celebrity gossip sites making up over the top stories on how this sudden engagement would benefit both companies in the long run. who really knows where this was going but one thing was certain. it’s that your father is still always one step ahead of the game

“ready?” you hear chenle murmur beside you, having enough of smiling for the night. might as well get this over with already by getting your assess inside the gala to hear those boring speeches made by business partners and the such

you don’t answer him and instead strutted ahead, leaving him just a few steps behind. chenle is a little startled that you just went on ahead without him but easily catches up next to you

“warn me next time” he hisses in your ear but covers it up by giving you a cheeky kiss on the cheek and laughing with the reporters, talking about how you must be excited to hear all about your father’s speech tonight

“keep up then” you snap back, smiling so sweetly at him that it makes it look like you two are so in love

or so they thought

full fic coming soon...

this is my first time doing this teaser shit i always see it on nctblr so why not try it myself lol now before y'all throw stones at me! this is just a teaser! real thing isn't remotely done at all despite the 30k word count i just hit (i dont even have a synopsis ready!) anyway! if u guys want a taglist for this then just comment on this post so i can track it teehee this is now a passion project for me lmfao i do not expect anything that will come out of this but me brainrotting over chenle in suits (the inspiration)

[aebinspa]

let's kill the romeo

PAIRING: ricky x y/n reader

GENRES: angst, fluff at the end, rude ricky but with a motive, fashion world!au, enemies to lovers that never been enemies, reader doesn't know his feelings, ricky has always been faithful, wendy (rv) is reader's best friend, wendy only did damage but at least she was hot, misunderstandings distance ricky and reader until in the final part everything is resolved for the best, second hand embarrassment

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: english is not my first language! this story was born in my mind in one way but ended up becoming something else. i'm not happy with it, i wanted to delete it. i wrote it in many days, between one commitment and another, and I made it even worse. i hope that by publishing it someone can still appreciate it! :(

A last-minute black V-neck dress, heels borrowed from your best friend, and a vintage clutch your grandmother left you wouldn’t be enough to save you from the embarrassment of being at a party full of billionaires. It was all your best friend's fault, a famous ambassador for a luxury superbrand who had invited her to bring a companion. And when she asked you to come with her, you couldn't help but say yes; she was your only friend.

"Y/n, what's wrong?" your best friend asks you innocently. “It’s all too much…” “I know, but the party won’t last very long. A chat over there with the CEO of Dolce & Gabbana, an hour at the buffet, and everything will pass” “I don’t know anyone…” “I just saw a colleague of mine over there! I'm going to her!” The idea of rushing straight to the buffet and spending the entire party there seemed alright to you.

Having grabbed some snacks and established some rules with yourself such as “Don’t look men in the eye for too long”, “Don’t stare at other women’s clothes” and “Don’t drink too much alcohol”, you sat down on the first available chair to enviously watch all the beautiful women in the huge ballroom of the villa where the party was being held. How beautiful it must be to be so tall and slender.

After an hour of contemplation you realized that you had completely lost sight of your best friend and, huffing loudly stressed by the situation, you thanked the first waiter you found and took two glasses of wine to drink. With a heavy step, you headed towards a door that had caught your attention. The door was all dressed up in shiny gold, making it look super fancy. Laurel leaves wrapped around the edges, also in gold, adding a nice touch to the whole thing. It stood out and made the entrance feel special, catching the attention of anyone who walked by. How tacky.

After looking around to make sure no one could see you, you tried to gently open the door, which turned out to be open to your great surprise. Inside, in a small room with a velvet sofa in the center, paintings were displayed on the walls, which—even though you were no expert in the field—seemed strangely familiar and extremely expensive.

“This painting by Monet is particularly mesmerizing, isn't it?” You almost jumped in the air with fright and the glasses - previously in your hands - fell to the ground and broke, and the terribly expensive wine ended up spilling all over the imposing figure who had whispered in your ear a second before. “Oh God I'm sorry, are you okay?” Even though you were trying to dry the Valentino tuxedo he was wearing with your hands, the boy didn’t seem to be upset and kept his posture straight. “Do you have any idea how much it costs?” he asked, looking you up and down. “No?”

The blond ran his hand furiously through his hair. Tall, handsome, blond, definitely rich, and, the cherry on top, unbearable. Why me? “Can I pay for the laundry?” “That wouldn’t solve anything” I have two pennies in my account, there’s not much I can do, idiot. “Well then I'll go” You didn't even realize it, but the boy stood in front of the door to block the exit.

“You’re not leaving. You have two problems to solve.” “Which ones, your majesty?” you asked with your eyebrow raised. A cheap dandy didn't scare you. “First, the shards of the glasses you broke. Second, my fine tuxedo" “I can't take the glasses in my hands, I risk dying, you know how it is,” the look he gave you to intimidate you was of little use “And then, speaking of your cheap tuxedo, I offered to pay for your laundry but you refused!" “In no world can someone repay a Valentino jacket and pants with a machine wash?”

Oh, if only you could have hit him, but everything in there could have been traced back to you. From the fingerprints on the door to the fingerprints on the glasses. “There’s a way.” “Let’s hear the bullshit, little prince.” I’ll leave as soon as you say it, asshole. “Work for me. A week as my secretary will be enough for you to pay me back the suit" The satisfied smile that appeared on the blond's face as soon as he saw your mouth open in amazement was not a pretty sight to see.

“How… what… You’re crazy. I’m leaving” You didn’t even have time to turn around before the boy grabbed your arm and forced you to turn and face him. “Leave me alone” “It costs six thousand euros” “What?” “My suit” “Ah”

Maybe it would have been better to mind your own business from the beginning. Maybe it would have been better to eat everything on the buffet: it would have cost you less. This time you felt guilty. “I… I’m sorry, I don’t have the money to pay you back, so, let me go” “No, as soon as you step foot out of this room I’ll go tell the CEO everything. We are great friends and, well, colleagues.” He flashes another of his annoying little smiles.

“Who cares, I don't owe you anything except laundry and a clean shirt” “You owe me a week as my assistant, otherwise it won't be you who will be affected, but those you know” "Excuse me?" “You’re not a model and you don’t work in the luxury fashion industry. You must have accompanied someone. It only takes me two seconds to find out who brought you here and you’ll see what a guy like me can do, besides buying a luxury suit” Now you were in real trouble. Getting your best friend involved meant ending up on the list of shitty friends to quickly forget about.

“Threats are illegal and you're threatening me. I will work for you for a week, but you dare use that tone with me again, just once, and I will make your life hell” It must have been the bloodshot look you were giving him or the way your hands were shaking as you said it, but the boy, faced with such a scene, responded by laughing. “Then I’ll see you on Monday. Give me your number, and I’ll have the company secretary contact you” “Okay” What a situation. It would have been better to binge myself to death.

“Your name?” “What?” “What’s your name?” he asked you again, adding a raised eyebrow to his already rude tone of voice. “Y/n” “Nice to meet you, I’m Ricky and I work as a modeler for Valentino.” The handshake you shared was colder than the weather at the top of Mount Everest.

“You're late” “No one pays me to arrive early” “I'm paying you” “So you're paying me with money that I'll use to pay you back? Brilliant” “You’re giving me your time, honey. Don’t forget that” Not only were you dressed head to toe in clothes that cost more than you’d ever earned in your life, but you were wearing the highest, most uncomfortable heels you’d ever tried on.

Ricky led you to his desk, from which you could keep an eye on both his office - or creative lab, as he called it - and the main entrance. The little prince wanted to know everything that was happening nearby. A thud brought you back to reality. Ricky had just slammed a countless pile of folders and loose papers onto your desk.

“What should I do with them?” “They’re sketches, divide them by collection. You’ll find the collection written on the back, I don’t expect you to be able to recognize a common theme” Too bad I can’t spit in your face, idiot. You replied with a fake smile and watched him walk away. If only he didn't have this bad temper, he wouldn't even be so bad to look at. The work you had to do wasn't that boring after all. While you spent your time shuffling papers, you saw a considerable number of people coming and going: men and women who in turn were full of sketches, and fabrics and were sweating coldly at the mere thought of being late. This Ricky must be quite important. The only things you understood were that your boss was a huge asshole and that he worked relentlessly. At closing time, while everyone was leaving, the blond one still seemed intent on continuing to work for more hours. As the very responsible secretary you were, you couldn't allow your boss to reach a point of no return and so you set off to open the door that led to his office.

Another woman opened it quicker than you. You didn’t realize it and neither did Ricky. Panic took over your body because you had just broken the first rule: don’t let anyone in who isn’t on the list. That woman was not only not on the list, but she was the only one circled in red as “the only person who should never enter my office”

“Shen Quanrui, you poor bastard, answer my calls instead of pretending nothing happened!” the beautiful woman who stood in front of the blond shouted, visibly angry, and from behind you noticed that she had an incredible back. Oh, Ricky… Why do you have all these beautiful women around you?

The blond looked away from the woman who was yelling at him, whispering, “You idiot, why did you let her in?” You responded with a frown. “Ricky, why do you have a new secretary after firing me not even a week ago? “Because I needed one.” “Then why did you fire me and make me look incompetent?” Scream after scream, but seeing Ricky suffer from earaches because of another one made you particularly happy.

“I have no intention of marrying you, you know that, so, I don’t want to have any more contact with you” “I don’t give a shit Ricky, your father said you have to marry me and you will” “I’m not my father” “But your father is the head of this company and the one you owe everything you have now! You will lose everything if you don’t marry me and stop being a child” The woman looked at you and the other with contempt before slamming the door shut and yelling a “Fuck you!” in the hallway.

You started to look intently at Ricky who, overcome by despair, let himself fall with all his weight on his desk chair. “Why does it always have to end like this?” he ran a hand through his hair. “Do you need something to drink?” You asked worried. I even have the nerve to worry about someone who treated me like a doormat. “Actually yes, let's go have a drink Y/n” “Ah yes sure sure. You and me having a drink together. Nice joke" “I'll pay” “Okay, you win, prince of my boots”

“So you're the son of the big boss and I'm just a poor bitch you picked up at the last minute to save your ass after firing your very loyal, money-loving secretary who your father decided you should marry? Well, The Bold and the Beautiful is a cheap soap opera in comparison!” A stifled chuckle escaped the mouth of your, albeit unpleasant, attractive boss.

“All the women in my life have ended up the same way. They met me, maybe fell in love with me a few times, and then my father somehow convinced them to marry me.” “If your father came to me begging me to marry you for a few million euros, I’m sure I would make the same decision as your ex-secretary and the women your father somehow convinced to be part of your life.” Another giggle.

“You know Y/n, I’m not that much of an asshole” “You all say that. Yet you threatened me and forced me to work for you” “I was desperate, I should have explained everything to you right away” Maybe in his heart, Ricky was sorry for everything. Those eyes with which he looked at you showed much more than he had shown you in those few moments spent together.

“I watched you all night at my dad’s party and laughed out loud watching you twiddle food and glasses of wine in your hands. You were a real fish out of water” This time it was your mouth that let out a giggle. “It wasn’t really my place” “Apparently not. But it’s not my place either. I want to do fashion and as soon as I can I’ll leave my dad’s company and start my own” “You dream big, I’ve never been able to do that” “It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud” “It’s the alcohol, Ricky” “Or maybe it’s you, Y/n”

When the feeling of saying too much hit you both, Ricky was the first to move and asked for the bill, and you broke the eerie silence that had been created. “I’ll do this week and disappear from your life. No marriage and no second-class woman in your life. I’ll finish what I have to finish and I’ll pay you back. You’ll go back to your life” “It seems fair”

You walked out the pub's front door but didn’t even say goodbye. The cold hit your face and forced you to wake up from that dream you thought you were living. Who knows how Ricky must have felt every time a woman in his life showed she was more interested in his father’s money than in him? “Well, treat me well” “What?” “I won’t let you treat me like an idiot anymore. Change your ways. Don’t put up a barrier. Don’t worry, I’ll never say yes to your father” “Um…” “Then it seems to me that your father has only chosen great hotties to be your wife, I’m out of category”

Maybe the alcohol had gone to both of your heads, but you forgot about the terrible encounter you had two days before. "I like you" "Good to know" God, why did I become red?

Four days later you and Ricky still hadn't decided to exchange a word. You continued to work and so did he, just at a different pace. Being ignored was the worst feeling you could ever have in your life and you knew it. Your phone screen lit up: your best friend had just texted you asking to meet up. After asking Ricky’s permission to take your lunch break early, you went to a coffee shop near the facility where you worked to meet up with Wendy.

“My love! I haven’t heard from you and I thought the worst!” Wendy entered the venue with great enthusiasm and everyone turned to look at her. “I’ve been busy, now I’ll tell you everything” Wendy’s face, your best friend, changed several times during your story of the events that had happened in the last period; you told her how everything had started because of that party and how you had ended up working for an unpleasant blond who had turned out to be a misunderstood softie.

“Shen Quanrui? Wait, I’ve heard that name before” “He introduced himself to me as Ricky and then this girl came screaming and calling him Shen Quanrui, I told you.” “Oh my God” “What?” “That Shen Quanrui”

You looked into each other’s eyes for a few seconds before screaming “Ahhh” together. The only difference was that you screamed in terror. “That Shen Quanrui who studied fashion and design…” Wendy went to take the orders at the counter and sat back down. “Let’s recap,” Wendy took a breath; “the famous Ricky from Valentino is that Shen Quanrui who you fell in love with during college when the three of us did that school project. Except that his father got in the way when he saw us going out together and then offered you, a woman in love, some money to get you away from his son and you didn't accept, convinced that you wanted to declare yourself the next day" “Yes, then what went wrong? I never accepted that money!” Even though the cafeteria was full of people, the silence between you and Wendy became more and more insistent.

“Wendy?” “I accepted that money. And I also took a job at Dolce & Gabbana. I didn’t- I didn’t think it would go this way. Then, well, Ricky disappeared, I think he went to America” “He disappeared because you accepted the money instead of talking to him! You sold your, no, our friendship for something worth much less” “I’m sorry. You know I would never do that now”

Anger coursed through your body. But it didn’t seem right to scold your friend for something she had done in the past. It had already happened. You knew full well that now she would never have the courage to do it again.

“I need to talk to him, but he continues to ignore me” “I could help you” “What are you going to do, Wendy?” Maybe she had too much courage.

It was Sunday, the final day. Wendy was ready to put her plan into action, by hook or by crook. "Good morning, Ricky" "Um" As cold as ever. You heard footsteps in the hallway. It’s time. The door to your office opened, revealing your best friend on the other side in a black suit that hugged her body beautifully. “Did you make it?” “The janitor seems to have a thing for me” Wendy showed you the key and smiled widely, telling you that she would give you an hour and no more. You nodded your head and thanked her. Now it was your turn.

“Ricky, how much longer do you have?” “Five minutes” You opened the door to his lab and looked out. “Do you want to have a drink?” “I don’t like the drunk version of me” Oh, I think so.

You looked at him better one more time. When you were in college he had black hair and a thinner face, and he was definitely less athletic. Now he was tall, blond and he looked at you with those two black puddles of his as if he wanted to bite your heart out.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” “What?” “That it was you”

Ricky seemed to understand and tried to leave the room. “Don’t try that” “Y/n”

Ricky read your desire to clarify in your gaze and with a huff he leaned on the table where he kept all his sketches scattered. “Tell me what you have to tell me, Y/n” “It took me a while but I remembered” Ricky let out a nervous laugh. “And now that you understand, what do you want me to do with this information?”

The no longer handsome black-haired boy who bewitched you at university walked towards the exit door that connected your office and his study to the corridor but soon realized that it was blocked. "Give me an hour, please" "As you wish"

Sitting on the floor, between a pout and a snort from Ricky and tense looks from you, you told your boss for a week how the situation had evolved over the years until your fateful meeting. The boy didn't miss any opportunity to remind you that having a best friend who couldn't use her head hadn't helped your life.

"How much longer?" "Fifteen minutes… Sorry" "That idiot Wendy should be the one to apologize"

Even though you had spent the last thirty minutes finding one way or another to justify your actions of the last few years, in Ricky's eyes you didn't see the understanding you wanted to see; there was an even higher barrier separating you.

"You haven't forgiven me?" you asked, trying to look him in the eyes. "What should I forgive you for? If you forgot me it means you wanted to and if you didn’t realize who I was despite my hair color then I didn’t mean much to you. I may have just been a college crush for you, but you meant, you still mean a lot to me” Was he wrong? No. You had changed, he had changed, but Ricky’s feelings had remained the same for all these years and you had been shaken by a life that had never given you love.

“I… I don’t feel the same. I don’t even know if I’m capable of feeling the same for you, Ricky” “It’s not a tragedy, forget about me like you’ve done until now and everything will be fine” A click on the door lock made you both turn towards the bell: the hour had just ended.

Ricky was the first to get up and head towards the door. He waved to Wendy, who was lurking around the corner and turned to you one last time. “You’re fired.” You picked up your pace, passed Wendy, and, a meter away from the blond, you answered him without fear. “I’ll come back to show you that I haven’t forgotten about you. I’ve never forgotten about you. I may be different, but what was between you and me hasn’t even had time to blossom.” You couldn’t see Ricky’s expression after that last exchange. This was the last time you saw him. And then a year passed.

Life for you went on, for once since your parents had brought you into the world, in a whole new way: you dared to continue your studies in graphic design, now you went to the gym regularly and, even though you still found it boring, you went to high fashion parties with Wendy. What hadn't changed was how you felt about Ricky. You realized only after losing him that what you had felt while being with him for a week had brought out everything you had kept locked away in the drawer of your heart. Everywhere you saw a man as tall as him and with black hair your eyes lit up, only to turn off seconds after you realized they weren't Ricky.

It was during Wendy's birthday party that you heard two of her colleagues talking about the man you had been looking for incessantly for the past year “Shen Quanrui, how funny. I always called him Ricky and he always looked at me badly every time I did it” “Absurd, now he has opened his modeling agency and is looking for models for his first collection” “Oh I can't wait to go. When he worked for his father he made wonderful clothes” In a panic you threw yourself at the two girls who backed away in fear. “Where? When?” “Um… Tomorrow, at four in the afternoon in this area here” the young model handed you a flyer that oozed luxury from every pore. Your next move was decided and you weren't afraid to make it.

So you convinced yourself, but when the next afternoon you found yourself in the middle of all those very tall and beautiful models you almost felt sick. The girls who went first came back sweaty and agitated and shouted out loud that there was a stage outside and about fifty people ready to mock them. What wonderful news.

“Y/n, it’s your turn!” Holy shit. Anxiously, you asked the closest girl for some water and then walked towards the stage, with several giggles accompanying you. The light that blinded you did not allow you to see who and what was in front of you. Only when they threw the light lower, did a lump form in your throat.

Ricky was in front of you, his eyes wide in surprise and his hair black. An insignificant detail for anyone else in the room but not for you. You tried to get the lump in your throat down immediately, but someone with a rougher approach than yours took half the time. “Is she going to introduce herself or do we have to see her battered body?” “Give her time,” Ricky spoke.

It was enough to look into the raven-haired man's eyes to make the lump return to your throat. But that wasn’t what stopped you. The teary eyes were another obvious sign of uncertainty, but you bravely took air into your lungs and raised your voice as high as you could.

“I’m sure I love you. There is no longer anything that can make me say otherwise. I think I love.” The faces of everyone in the room took on various expressions and some began to whisper in the ears of their neighbors. You continued without fear this time.

“I love you, Shen Quanrui. I understood it when I hoped that every stupid middle-aged man had your face, I understood it when I went to see a stupid Monet exhibition hoping that you would whisper in my ear one more time and I understood it when…” Ricky was looking at you impassively.

“I understood it when you ran away to America the first time and I understood it when I was the one who left you the second time.” You were interrupted by a man in his sixties who angrily shouted at the guards to take you away.

“Stop everyone” And so it was. Ricky stood up and with that annoying but charming little smile, he pronounced his final sentence. “I found my muse. We’re done for today, sent all the girls home” Slowly and dazed by what had happened, the men and women inside the theater left. You and Ricky looked into each other’s eyes, alone in your intimacy. “I see that you haven’t changed, you’re always ready to make one disaster after another” “I see that you have changed, maybe that means that?”

“It means that I still love you Y/n. I’ve been waiting for you all this time” He held you in his arms and kissed you for the first time, knowing in his heart that it wouldn’t be the last. A thought crept into your mind. “Oh my god, what we do with your father?” “Y/n I have my own company and we are not Romeo and Juliet, there is no need to make a drama out of it” “Oh, so you are not my Romeo?” Ricky kissed you once more and you felt his smile grow bigger and bigger. He leaned in close to your ear and whispered seven sweet words to you. “I'll be everything you want, forever

[sungbeam]

BIRD HUNT — series m.list

nonidol!choi line x f!reader

gotham city is a gutter running rampant with the ill, corrupt, and the insane. at times, justice and vengeance must be served by one's own hand... no matter the lengths one must go to do so.

▷ genre. bat family au, dc comics inspired, dark, vigilantes au, slow burn, ceo/billionaire au, cat woman!reader, murder mystery au, action, suspense, angst, slow burn-ish?, love square??; choi line inspired by dick grayson (csb), jason todd (cyj), and tim drake (cbg), including bruce wayne for choi minho and damian wayne for nishimura riki, inspired by 2022's The Batman ; i haven't decided who's end game yet LOL there might be multiple endings

▷ warnings (do read). vulgar language, depictions of violence, mentions of blood, usage and description of weaponry, depictions of corruption and assault, murder/death, grief turning to revenge/vengeance, no one is sane tbh, kissing, yn actually has a lot of cats; each installment will have its own warnings per the content it holds

▷ taglist. open // update schedule. whenever i can </3

▷ total wc. tbd // each part is ~4k each

a/n: this has been one of my passion projects for so long tbh :') if this flops ... let's pray for the best!! but it's okay bc i love it too much <//3 the biggest thanks and so much love+appreciation to @loveliestfelix for being my hype woman from the beginning of this project ilysm 💖

CHOI FAMILY FILES_ unlocked.

⌕ TEASER!

FILE_00 : PERSONNEL (character guide)

FILE_01 : A THING FOR STRAYS

FILE_02 : BEHIND EVERY MAN

FILE_03 : BY THE TAIL

FILE_04 : DEATH BRINGS US TOGETHER

FILE_05 : FALL WHERE THEY MAY

FILE_06 : ARMS OF AN ANGEL

FILE_07 : RED ON THE LEDGER

FILE_08 : BURN AFTER READING

FILE_09 : WHEN JUSTICE BECOMES VENGEANCE

FILE_10 : A JOB OFFER

FILE_11 : BLOOD OF THE COVENANT

...pending

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @meosjinnn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @loveliestfelix @zhaixiaowen @justanotherkpopstanlol @w3bqrl @kangfication @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @super-btstrash-posts @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @kflixnet @rikizm

series taglist: @winterchimez @mosviqu @boba-beom @strawbrinkofdeath @baek-at-it-again95 @todosmash @loveforred @rocarecs @megseungmin @arsjeong @woncheecks @vicurious28 @lun4kazumii @shoberi @moguwcrld @firstclassjaylee

[kpopfanfictrash]

Love to Hate (Extra Scene III: Jungkook’s POV)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Fuck Buddies / Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you've done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Author’s Note: This scene takes place during Chapter 7 of Love to Hate and is told from Jungkook’s point of view. PLEASE READ THE ENTIRE STORY BEFORE READING THIS SCENE (otherwise there will be spoilers lol).

Rating: 18+ 

Warnings: semi-public sex, breast play, fingering, dirty talk (hypothetical cum play, possessiveness), spanking, multiple orgasms, somewhat rough sex

Word Count:  8,704

“If this trend were to continue, I’m not certain how we could keep up with production. This would obviously pose a problem for our shareholders, so let’s brainstorm solutions before the next quarterly call. Does that work for you, Mr. Jeon?”

A long, pregnant pause.

“Mr. Jeon?”

Beneath the table, Namjoon gives a not-so-subtle kick to Jungkook’s kneecap. Jerking upright, Jungkook glances around to cover his recent lapse. Based on Namjoon’s glare, his attempt must not pass muster.

“I – yes.” Jungkook nods, hoping he hasn’t agreed to something terrible. “That works for me. Thank you.”

The woman pauses, clearly unused to being thanked by the CEO. “Of course, Mr. Jeon,” she says, recovering quickly to take her seat.

Fingers tapping the acrylic table, Jungkook glances as covertly as he can at the clock. A wave of panic washes over him when he realizes the meeting has nearly ended since Jungkook doesn’t remember a single discussion. Unusual, for a man who insists on booking his own travel because he doesn’t trust anyone else to find the best deal.

It’s not like Jungkook to be distracted, or to not pay attention to detail. A swift glance at his notebook proves equally damning. Usually, Jungkook takes careful notes but today, the only thing written is the date at the header.

Subtly, Jungkook straightens. Forcing himself to concentrate, he listens to the rest of the updates. Someone from Info Security briefs Jungkook on a new phishing attack. A woman from Finance updates them on the search for a new travel vendor. Jungkook listens closely, responding when needed but can feel Namjoon’s gaze on his cheek the rest of the meeting.

Knowing his COO, Namjoon has some thoughts about Jungkook drifting off. It’s for this reason that Jungkook hangs back once the meeting has finished. Namjoon also stays, waiting until the last person files out before swiveling sideways, exhaling in a way which implies years of exhaustion.

“Tissue?” Jungkook offers blithely.

Namjoon fixes him with a look. “No, thanks. What’s going on?”

“I’m… not sure what you mean.”

Brows lifted, Namjoon pushes himself to stand. “Yes, you do.” Lifting his laptop, he walks around the table. “For weeks now, you’ve been distracted. Years of planning and here we are, in the home stretch but somehow, it feels like I’m alone. Tell me what’s going on – and don’t,” Namjoon adds, a note of warning to his voice, “say this is all in my head.”

Jungkook closes his mouth, about to say just that. 

Sinking into his seat, Jungkook searches for a response because Namjoon is right. Something has been going on and Jungkook has been distracted. Ever since the dinner at Aleve, Jungkook hasn’t been himself. Realizing his fingers have resumed tapping the table, Jungkook forces himself to stop.

Two weeks have passed since he last spoke to you at Aleve. Two weeks of pretending neither of you cares about the other. Unless you really don’t care, and Jungkook is the only one who’s pretending.

Thoughts souring, Jungkook considers the possibility. Fighting the tide of memory is useless – as soon he thinks of your name, Jungkook disappears. He remembers the last time he saw you, entering Aleve with his father and Namjoon. Hearing your laughter from across the room, craning his neck only to find you with Liam Jessen. Jungkook’s worst enemy, smiling at you like you were the only person in the room.

Jungkook tried to recover after that, tried not to think about it – a plan swiftly dashed when he ran into you outside the bathroom. Cheeks hot, Jungkook once more relives that brutal interaction.

It doesn’t matter who you sleep with. I know you’ll call as soon as you realize they’re just as boring as every man before me.

Jungkook was jealous, but there’s no excuse for what he said. Your response was equally cutting, reducing whatever had been between you to sex. Jungkook should have pressed harder, but imposter syndrome stepped in and all he could do was agree.

Now, a voice in the back of his mind – which sounds suspiciously like Yoongi – whispers that Jungkook pushes people away to see if they’ll come back. Unfair, whispers that same voice. True relationships don’t keep score. You shouldn’t be guilted into admitting your feelings before Jungkook deigns to tell you his.

It’s no wonder you haven’t reached out, proving the second half of his statement incorrect. You haven’t felt the need to call him since Liam. Instead of lashing out, Jungkook should have just told you how he felt. Maybe then, he’d be seeing you tonight instead of facing yet another night alone in his apartment. Wondering if you’re by yourself or out there with Liam. 

Swallowing hard, Jungkook pushes the thought away. Realizing his fingers have resumed their tapping, Jungkook lays his palm flat on the table. “I’m sorry,” he exhales and looks up. “I… know I’ve been distracted. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

Concern knits Namjoon’s brow. “That’s not – I wasn’t trying to get you to apologize, man. I genuinely want to know what’s going on. Are you alright?”

These simple words dissolve the barrier between Jungkook’s mind and his mouth. Embarrassing, how fast genuine concern can make Jungkook break down. His father would have had something to say about it – which probably means Jungkook shouldn’t be embarrassed about the reaction.

“No,” he admits. “Everything isn’t okay – but it will be. Soon. I know I’ve been distracted, but I promise to do better.”

Namjoon looks at him wryly. “Who are they?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?”

Laughing to himself, Namjoon takes the seat beside him. “Whoever it is that has you in shambles,” he continues. “This conference room is dry, otherwise I’d offer you a stiff drink. Feels like we should imbibe if we have to talk about feelings.”

Jungkook can’t help but smile. “That obvious, huh?”

“Only to those who’ve been there before.”

Leaning back in his seat, Jungkook tilts his head. He and Namjoon have been friends for years, although their friendship began as a business relationship. Namjoon wasn’t around for the less savory parts of his life; the years when Jungkook was drunk more often than not and took nothing about this company seriously. 

Other people remember though, and Jungkook has had to work to turn his image around. Even now, his father’s media headlines haunt his footsteps – although these have recently ceased since Jungkook became CEO. You’re a distraction to his work by any definition, drawing Jungkook’s attention away from the company. Especially so if Namjoon has noticed.

“Can I give you some advice?” Namjoon offers, steepling long fingers before him.

Jungkook lifts a brow. “If I said no, would that stop you?”

“Probably not.”

“Then, sure. Go ahead.”

Namjoon leans in. “Don’t let this fester.”

“What?”

“Whatever it is that’s been bothering you.” Namjoon lowers his hands. “Don’t let things linger – fix the situation before it’s too late. My mom always says not to go to bed angry and in this case, I agree with her.”

Jungkook considers. “When would you not agree with that statement?”

“If you’re both drunk and neither one of you are making any sense.”

“Huh.” He nods. “Valid.”

“Anyways,” Namjoon sighs. “I’ve been paying attention to you this week, and whatever’s going on hasn’t gotten any better. Rather than keep going, you should make a change.”

“A change to… what?”

“Hell, if I know.” Namjoon lifts a shoulder and lets it fall. “I only know the bare minimum of information about your situation.”

“Fair point.” Jungkook exhales, pushing a hand through his hair.

Shoving his chair back to stand, Namjoon adjusts his suit jacket. Scooping his laptop from the table, he heads for the door only to pause on the threshold, looking as though he’s debating whether to say something or not.

Evidently, saying the thing wins out and he straightens. “You know you can delegate, right?” Namjoon says, leveling Jungkook with a look. “Today’s meeting, for example. You probably don’t need to hear every update from every department. Let your CFO talk to Finance and tell you if something’s important.”

The furrow between Jungkook’s brows deepens. “You’re probably right,” he allows.

Truthfully, Jungkook is struggling to find his management style. His father ruled through fear and the occasional carrot. Jungkook wants to make his own mark on the company and have his employees work because they actually want to, but this is proving more difficult to achieve than he thought.

“Just a thought.” Namjoon shrugs, slapping the door before disappearing down the hall. Jungkook is left alone, the clock on the wall the only sound apart from his thoughts. 

Exhaling lowly, he stares at his hands atop the acrylic table. On his right, the sun has gradually sunk towards the horizon. Today is Friday, meaning most of his staff has gone home by now. Their weekly report-out is usually the last meeting on people’s calendars. Jungkook rarely leaves before the sun sets, though. He uses his time in the evening to respond to his emails.

Namjoon is probably right about delegating. Afraid of being seen as an absentee leader, Jungkook has joined every meeting for every direct report since the Board voted him in as CEO. It’s probably time for him to relax the reins, or else be seen as a micromanager. 

Releasing a breath, Jungkook pulls his notepad closer. His cell phone sits beside him on the table, stubbornly silent since the start of the meeting. Jungkook doesn’t bother to check if you’ve texted, since he already knows the answer. 

Since Aleve, you’ve been quiet.

Things were awkward before then though if he’s being honest. When you called Jungkook the night prior and asked him to stay, he nearly jumped at the chance. Despite having a Board meeting the next day and mountains of paperwork to do – the moment you called, Jungkook came. The truth of the matter was he wouldn’t turn down any opportunity to see you, no matter the consequences.

Jungkook should’ve known then that he was in trouble, but he didn’t fully realize until the next day. When he awoke and saw your face limned by sunlight, Jungkook knew things had gone further than he intended.

He had feelings for you. Strong feelings. Feelings Jungkook had never experienced, and ones which put him in danger because they broke all your rules. This was also the moment panic set in – you’d been more than clear about what would happen if he broke a rule. Jungkook had fallen for the one person he’d promised not to – and so he ran away.

Later, he texted a casual thank you. Jungkook tried to pull back, tried to disguise his true feelings so you wouldn’t suspect things had changed. Somehow though, this only seemed to make things worse. The voice in his head whispers Jungkook did it on purpose – shut you down before you could tell him to go.

Eyes closed, Jungkook swivels in his chair. Namjoon is right. He should call you, but the thought of picking up the phone and putting his heart on the line seems insurmountable. It’s nearly six o clock on a Friday, anyways – more than likely, you’re out with your friends.

Jungkook’s throat tightens. Or possibly out on another date with Liam. 

Pushing his chair back, Jungkook reaches for his notebook. Over a month has gone by since he ran into Liam at your fundraiser – it seems impossible for feelings to have developed in such a short time. Then again, Jungkook didn’t feel this way about you a month ago. Hell, he was in denial of his feelings up until your apartment.

Now that he knows though, it’s up to Jungkook to confess before it’s too late. Even if you are hooking up with Liam, that would be better than if you developed feelings for him. This depressing turn of thought is thankfully interrupted by Jungkook’s phone buzzing.

Withdrawing this, he hopes for your name only to be disappointed by the truncated line of text. Exhaling lowly, Jungkook swipes.

Dad: You need to attend the Y/L/N’s anniversary party tomorrow evening. Unexpected business out of town – will be gone until Monday. Sign my name in the card, thx [6:36 PM]

Frown deepening, Jungkook pockets his phone. Just like his father to expect him to drop everything and attend to the family business. If the Board vote on company strategy weren’t imminent, Jungkook would likely tell his father to go to hell.

There’s also the fact that your family name is in the text – Y/L/N. This party is being thrown by your parents, which means you might attend. Coming to a stop before his office, Jungkook is struck by the possibility this could work in his favor.

Rather than chase you down, he could show up at the party and see your reaction. Something to inform him whether his feelings are returned before placing it all on the line.

Jungkook knows that feelings shouldn’t be conditional. That if he wants to confess, he should just do it, but Jungkook manages to push the voice aside. Already building a plan for tomorrow, he strides into his office and lets the door shut.

All day long, Jungkook debates what time to arrive. Get there too soon, and he might scare you off. Arrive late enough and he could miss you entirely. You haven’t been shy about the feelings you hold for your parents, and Jungkook doubts you’ll stay long.

In the end, he exits his town car a half hour late, but Jungkook needn’t have worried: you’re nowhere to be found. Deflating slightly, Jungkook wanders inside and orders a drink from a bar. Turning to face the ballroom, he swirls his whiskey while scanning the floor.

The party is indistinguishable from any other society event, doing little to recommend it in Jungkook’s opinion. Pulling himself from the bar, Jungkook engages in small talk while making the rounds and keeping one eye on the door.

Nearly an hour passes, and Jungkook finds himself trapped in conversation with one of his father’s close friends. Laura something or other; Jungkook can’t recall her surname. Nodding while listening, Jungkook tunes Laura out while she prattles on about her new diamond mine. 

“Have you been there?” Laura prompts, forcing him into the conversation.

“Hm?” Jungkook lifts a brow. “No, I’m afraid not.”

A risk, since he didn’t hear where Laura mentioned, but a negative answer discourages follow-up. Or so it would seem. With Laura though, this prompts a soliloquy about the benefits of Cannes in the fall. As soon as he considers it polite to do so, Jungkook excuses himself and heads once more for the bar.

He’s nearly made it when the crowd parts and time seems to slow as you enter the ballroom. Dressed in a gown of midnight blue, you throw your head back and laugh – and Jungkook’s gaze drifts sideways to land on Liam Jessen. 

His feet turn to ice. Coming to a stop, Jungkook can’t help but stare at the sight of your arm intertwined with his. You look beautiful, but then again, you always do. Gown sweeping the floor, you’re nothing short of ethereal and seeing you on the arm of another man slices Jungkook’s chest open. 

When you look at Liam and smile, the pounding of Jungkook’s heart drowns out all thought. Grasping ahold of himself, Jungkook spins around to stalk across the floor. He can’t see you like this. Can’t talk to you calmly when you’re here with Liam.

Dropping his glass on the bar counter, Jungkook asks for a whiskey and waits while it’s poured. Staring down at his hand, he regains control of his breathing. 

You came here with Liam. 

You came tonight with a date, and that date is Liam. Sluggishly, Jungkook tries to separate the two thoughts, but they continue to attract like opposing magnets. Discomfort prickles in the back of his mind, putting two and two together. Your rules resurface, unasked and unwanted.

Number one, no discussion of personal lives (broken several times over). Number two, always use protection and get tested monthly for STDs. Number three, that you’re not exclusive. Number four, that either of you are free to end things any time, and rule number five, that your parents can’t find out.

It’s the fifth rule which has Jungkook’s stomach in knots. He assumed you didn’t want to tell your parents because you’re estranged and dating anyone from their world would bring complications. Which makes sense, if Jungkook and you were just having sex. Complications are the antithesis of that type of thing.

For you not to have similar reservations about Liam means things between you are different. That possibly you think Liam is worth the hassle. Unable to contemplate any meaning beyond this, Jungkook’s thoughts curdle and sour.

The bartender finishes pouring, and Jungkook accepts this without comment to chug a third. Setting this back down, Jungkook wipes his mouth with the back of one hand. Exhaling, he considers the options before him. 

You haven’t seen him, which means that Jungkook could leave. His father might be angry, but frankly, that’s the least of Jungkook’s concerns. The more Jungkook ponders, the more appealing this seems, and the more his resolve hardens.

Draining another third, Jungkook turns around and spots you across the room. You stand beside a different bar, smiling at something your brother just said. White-hot jealousy licks Jungkook’s stomach, seeing you introduce Liam to your family.

The rest of his drink disappears, and Jungkook places the empty glass on the counter, sliding the bartender a fifty. Adjusting his suit jacket, he skirts the edge of the room as he heads for the door.

Your face burns in his mind. Standing between your brother and Liam, you seemed almost happy. Buoyant. Without a care in the world. Exactly the opposite of how Jungkook feels now. Clearly, you haven’t been missing him during your time apart. 

Forcing his expression to neutrality, Jungkook crosses the rest of the room. He’s nearly made it to the hallway when a man steps into his path.

“Jungkook!” Reaching for his hand, the man clasps this tightly. “What a surprise – fancy seeing you here instead of your father. Seems like the regime change is in full swing, eh?”

With great effort, Jungkook slows his stride. The man is Charles Smith – a valuable ally, and one of the few Fortune 500 companies willing to invest in clean energy. Namjoon has drafted numerous proposals for their companies working together, which means Jungkook can’t afford to alienate him at such a crucial time.

Forcing a smile, Jungkook comes to a stop. “Something like that,” he says smoothly, shaking his hand. “How are you this evening, Charles?”

“Oh, Chuck is fine. I’m swell,” he says, withdrawing his hand to swirl his gin. “The doctor keeps telling me not to drink, but we’ve all got to die sometime – right?”

“Right,” Jungkook agrees, though his gaze darts towards the hall.

Unfortunately, this means you’re forced in his path. You’ve left the bar and now stand beside your mother, your expression aggravated in a way Jungkook can understand. When your gaze locks with his, you go completely still. 

Even if Jungkook didn’t know who your companion was, he’d know you were related. Something about your bearing, the confident way you stand screams familial relation. You probably wouldn’t like hearing that, but traits by themselves aren’t bad. It’s what you do with them that matters.

While your mother seems unimpressed by her surroundings, you look visibly frustrated. Jungkook isn’t sure why and probably shouldn’t care to find out. Your familial problems are none of his concern.

Turning around, Jungkook thanks Charles for his time before he moves on. Your worried face refuses to dissipate from mind though, despite his best efforts. Eventually, Jungkook exhales and turns – only to notice Liam is still with you. Feet pausing, Jungkook finds himself feeling foolish for the second time that night.

Grasping you by the arm, your mother returns you to their circle – completing the image of a picture-perfect family. Idiot, Jungkook curses, disappearing again. Foolish to not hear what you said, to ignore the many, many times you’ve placed boundaries between you. 

Jungkook’s inner voice delights in his anguish, strengthened by the ache in his heart. Not good enough for your father, not good enough for Y/N, the voice muses. How can you hope for a serious relationship when you’ve never been in one before? Liam might be an ass, but at least he has ambition. He made something of himself, rather than spend so many years drowning in self-pity.

As cruel as the thought is, it’s not entirely wrong. Liam has more in common with you than Jungkook would like to admit – you’ve known from a young age what you wanted, just like Liam. Liam wasn’t born into wealth; his family doesn’t exist within the same social circle. It almost makes sense, the idea of you dating.

Liam betrayed Jungkook’s confidence once, but they were both young then. Naïve. Maybe Liam has changed since the internship – God knows, Jungkook has. 

Returning his thoughts to present, Jungkook reaches the valet. Ultimately, you brought Liam to meet your parents and not Jungkook. Whether this means you have feelings for Liam or can’t see a future with Jungkook – either way, the result is the same.

Jungkook supposes he can’t blame you for that. Jeon Energy is the Goliath to your David. Until Jungkook’s proposal is approved by the Board, the direction of Jeon Energy remains the same. Dating him would go against everything you believe in. It isn’t as though Jungkook has let you in on his plans or allowed you to think better of him in any way. 

While waiting for his car to arrive, Jungkook keeps both hands in his pockets. The fact that you brought Liam means Rule Number Four can’t be far behind. The rule which allows either of you to end things between you. Jungkook recalls how he scoffed at this rule, certain it wouldn’t be necessary for either one of you. 

In his experience, interest rarely lasts longer than a month. Jungkook figured your spark would fizzle and die, that you’d gradually stop calling and there’d be no hard feelings. Now, he can’t help but wonder at how foolish he was.

Jungkook needs to end this before you can. 

By ending things first, it’d allow Jungkook to keep some of his dignity. It would also give you an out, alleviating you from pressure of letting him down. If anything, Jungkook imagines you’ll feel some relief. This way, you don’t have to explain about Liam.

Flipping his keys, Jungkook is staring into the night when footsteps approach. 

Turning his head, he watches the moment you enter the hall. A vision in blue, fabric drifting around your legs as you come to a stop. For a moment, Jungkook wonders if you’re here to see him before banishing the notion as dangerous.

“Hi,” you exhale, your voice carrying through the hall.

Brow furrowing, Jungkook wonders why you came. Maybe Liam is close behind, ready to leave with you in his car. 

“Hi,” Jungkook exhales, his chest tight.

Glancing over his shoulder, you search for someone, and Jungkook’s confusion grows. Everyone else remains at the party. Distractedly, Jungkook wonders if you saw him leave and came to check on him. The thought of your pity makes his neck heat.

“Can we talk?” you ask at last, meeting his gaze.

Jungkook pauses, at war with himself. If he agrees, he’d be moving up the timeline of your conversation. Not to mention the fact that merely the sight of you loosens his resolve. If you were to talk now, who knows what he’d say.

“I…” Jungkook hesitates, certain he should say no. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Y/N.”

Something flares in your gaze. “I didn’t say it was a good idea. I said I wanted to talk.”

Jungkook is forced to press his lips together to keep from laughing. It’s just such a you thing to say that against his better judgement, Jungkook finds himself nodding. Despite knowing this will hurt more tomorrow, Jungkook gives in.

Taking him by the arm, you tug him down the hall. Jungkook follows closely behind, unceremoniously dragged while you find a suitable room. Pulling open a door, you shove Jungkook in, flicking the light switch to quickly follow suit.

Your dress settles around you, nose nearly pressed to his in the dim light of the closet. Jungkook’s heart pounds, overloud in such a small space. Your scent wraps around him, body and soul, pulling him in when he should run away. It muddies what he came here to tell you, causes him to forget that you’re breaking his heart.

Unable to breathe, Jungkook looks at the door. Then, at your ear. Anywhere but at your gaze, which can see right through him. 

Eventually, the silence moves him to speak. “You wanted to talk?” Jungkook asks, careful to keep his tone neutral.

You blink in amazement. “That’s… all you have to say?”

Jungkook notices you’re holding his wrist at the same time you do. Dropping him as though burned, you take a step backwards and your spine hits the door. This rejection stings more than Jungkook would like to admit.

“Well, I was about to leave,” he says stiffly, and meets your gaze.

He wishes he hadn’t when your eyes narrow, full of fire. It’s unfair of you to look at him like that. Unfair to look at him at all when you came here with Liam and again, Jungkook wonders why you’re here. 

“Fine, then,” you huff. “I’ll speak.”

Jungkook’s heart aches when he hears the clear hurt in your voice. As infuriating as tonight has been, Jungkook had every opportunity to say how he felt weeks ago. Hell, he could have called yesterday, but he didn’t. Instead, Jungkook showed up tonight and expected to be met with your praise.

Folding your arms across your chest, you fix Jungkook with a glare. “I haven’t heard from you in a while,” you exhale.

Jungkook hesitates, unsure how to respond. You came here tonight with Liam, so it doesn’t make sense for you to pull him aside for small talk. To chase him towards his car only to ask Jungkook how he’s been.

Forcing his expression to remain neutral, Jungkook searches for an answer that’s least embarrassing. Or incriminating.

“I’ve been out of town,” he says at last.

You study his face. “Business trip?”

“Yes. Amongst other things.”

It’s mostly true. Jungkook and Namjoon have been traveling across the country, securing their plans for the upcoming Board meeting. You don’t know anything about that though, so his answer remains vague.

“Seems awfully sudden,” you observe.

Realizing his jaw is clenched, Jungkook forces himself to relax. The fact that you’re here, mad at him when you came with Liam is beyond infuriating. “I can’t help but notice,” he says, voice dropping, “you didn’t text me either. Or did I miss your messages?”

Something in your expression falters, but you recover quickly to step closer. Breath held, Jungkook looks you up and down. Everything about your body language screams anger, but this can’t be right. You’ve been dating Liam for weeks, have introduced him to your parents which means a breakup with Jungkook can’t be far behind – right? 

“No, you didn’t,” you admit. 

Jungkook’s resolve hardens. “So, I have to assume you didn’t want to see me.”

His voice comes out calmer than he is though, and the irrationality of your discussion spurs a wave of uncertainty. You didn’t text Jungkook; he didn’t text you. Both of you ignored the other and now, here you are. That part makes sense, no matter how uncomfortable.

What Jungkook can’t explain is why you ran after him. Why you pulled him aside and wanted to talk. None of what you’re saying matters if you’re planning to end things – unless you’re not. A wild spark of hope catches, and Jungkook smothers it quickly.

“I was waiting,” you blurt out, incredulous. “After all the weirdness at the restaurant, I was waiting for you to reach out to me!”

Jungkook’s thoughts stutter, then resume. You wanted him to reach out. Of course, that doesn’t change the fact that you moved on so quickly. 

“What weirdness?” 

“Oh, please.” You stifle an eye roll. “I ran into you on a date with Liam, and you acted strange.”

Jungkook’s entire face heats. “I mean, I do think it’s weird that you want to date Jessen,” he says, unable to stop himself. “He’s not a good guy.”

“Why not?” you demand. “You can’t just say that, and not explain.”

Jungkook hesitates, on the verge of explanation before he pulls back. It doesn’t matter. If Jungkook tells you about Liam, he’d have to explain everything – his mom, his dad and the whole, morbid past. There’s no point in sharing if you’re leaving tonight.

Something about this feels wrong, but Jungkook can’t put a finger on why.

“Why did you even come here?” you ask, your expression changing. “Why did you come to my parents’ party if you didn’t want to see me? If you really don’t care?”

I care, Jungkook wants to yell. Obviously, he cares but you were the one who walked in on someone else’s arm. The confession chokes in his throat, stillborn.

“I came because my dad asked me,” Jungkook says instead. “He couldn’t attend, so he sent me in his place. It would’ve been rude for one of us not to attend.”

Your jaw tightens. “Liar.”

Jungkook goes still. “Excuse me?” 

Somehow, you move even closer. “I said, liar,” you repeat, chin tilted. “Your father didn’t ask you to come. You came here because you wanted to – why can’t you just admit that?”

Panic sparks, realizing you can see right through him. And still, Jungkook doesn’t understand why you’re pretending to care. Why you continue to push, trying to get Jungkook to say he cares when you’re the one leaving. Do you want him to beg? Would leaving be better if you left him humiliated?

Anger is easier to focus on than pain, and so Jungkook grasps it tight with both hands. 

Something in your gaze falters. “I – right, okay,” you murmur, fumbling behind you for the door. “Got it. I just… assumed. I’ll go.”

Hearing your voice crack, Jungkook’s fury vanishes. No longer caring about the why, he focuses on the what and reaches out for your wrist. Your breath catches when his fingers close around your warm skin. Gently – so gently – Jungkook turns you around and presses you to the door.

Inhaling your scent, Jungkook crowds you against the wood. You stare back at him and Jungkook wonders what would’ve happened if he’d just called. 

Feeling suddenly helpless, he drops the façade. “You’re right,” Jungkook admits, his voice hoarse. “I wanted to see you.”

Bending his head, he crushes your lips with his.

Your noise of surprise muffles, dissipating the moment your lips touch. Hands encircling his waist, you slowly trace the panes of his body. Jungkook loves the way you touch him – gentle and then, not gentle at all. Losing himself in your touch, Jungkook kisses you roughly.

When your hands tug his hair, Jungkook groans into your mouth. Memorizing the feel of your body with his, he shuts out the fear that this might be the last. Within minutes, the kiss has turned urgent, both of you searching for something unsaid. Smoothing a hand down your spine, Jungkook tugs you into his chest. 

Half-hard since he entered the closet, Jungkook bites down on your lip to relish the soft noise you make. Slipping his hand beneath the strap of your dress, he bares your shoulder and cups your breast in his palm. Slowly, he teases your nipple with his thumb and listens to your breath hitch.

Head lowered, Jungkook closes his lips around the nipple and tugs. You groan, arching against him in eager invitation. Hand reaching, Jungkook fumbles with your zipper until it catches and pulls. Your dress pools on the ground, leaving you naked except for your heels and panties. Cock swelling at the visual, Jungkook bites lightly on your nipple through lace.

Reaching behind, you undo your bra and let this fall to the floor. With it, the last of Jungkook’s resolve slips away. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs.

Before you can respond, he lowers his head and sucks your breast again. Teasing you slowly, he relishes the eager rise and fall of your chest. Lowering his hand, he grasps your thigh to wrap firmly around him. Fingers searching, he skims the edge of your wetness and feels you tremble.

Returning to your lips, Jungkook crushes his mouth to yours. Now that you’ve kissed, he can’t seem to stop – especially when he knows this might be the last. Pouring everything he feels into a wordless gesture, Jungkook pulls you to him.

You whimper, shifting to better align your hips to his. Tightening his grip on your waist, Jungkook chuckles and keeps himself just beyond reach. Lazily trailing his fingers in circles, he angles his head to deepen the kiss.

“Jungkook,” you moan against his lips.

He can’t help but smile. “Yes?”

Eyes opening, your expression turns heady. “I need more.”

“More.” Casually, his fingers stroke higher. “Is that what you want from me? Want me to make you come, princess?”

There’s a bite to his words he can’t fully disguise. Jungkook is used to being wanted for his skills in bed. It’s never been something he begrudged before but then, he’s never wanted more from someone else and hearing you say it is like a knife to the chest.

You hesitate, gaze searching. “What do you want, Jungkook?”

Jungkook goes still, scanning your face. He wants more than this. He wants you and you, alone but that can’t possibly be what you mean. 

“What… do I want?” he repeats.

“Yes.” You stare up at him, earnest. “You always ask me what I want in bed, but what do you want?”

In bed. Each word is followed by a dull thunk, falling into place alongside the weight of expectation. Obviously, you meant sex – anything more would be ludicrous. You came here tonight with someone else, after all.

Lowering his head, Jungkook skims your throat with his nose. He allows his teeth to graze skin, feeling you shudder and tightening his grip. 

“This,” he murmurs, voice cracking in a rare moment of honesty. “Just this.”

Jungkook kisses you before you can see the desperation in his eyes. He backs you against the door, skimming the top of your panties with his rough fingers. You shudder against him, arching your chest and Jungkook takes pity.

Sliding a hand lower, he cups your center and hisses when he feels how wet you are. Slowly, he drags a finger forward – along the damp fabric. One palm on the door, Jungkook repeats this over and over, until you’re a wet, sopping mess.

“Jungkook,” you beg, meeting his gaze.

Jungkook lifts a brow. “Thighs together, princess.”

Hastening to obey, you trap his hand between your warm legs. Flexing his wrist, Jungkook idly strokes along the seam of your panties. A soft moan leaves your lips, head hitting the door while he touches you. Jungkook slowly slips his finger beneath the soft lace.

Brushing the hood of your clit, he savors how swollen you are. How responsive your body is to his touch. Gaze dropping, he takes in the frantic roll of your hips.

“Jungkook,” you moan, and his gaze jerks upward.

“Look at you,” he croons, moving closer. “Already a mess and I’ve barely touched you. Just sucked on those pretty tits like you needed. Tell me,” he says, voice hardening. “Tell me you needed it.”

Deep down, Jungkook knows this is wrong. It isn’t healthy to push things so far, to make you come on his hand when he knows this is over – and yet, he can’t bring himself to stop. If this is all Jungkook gets, he at least wants you to remember. 

“I did,” you gasp. “I needed it so bad.”

A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Because no one else gets you like this, huh?”

“N-no one,” you pant, a tremor to your voice.

“What was that?”

“No one but you, Jungkook,” you amend, and he grunts in approval.

“Turn around,” he demands and steps backwards.

You obey, hands pressed to the door as you lower your head. A shiver runs down Jungkook’s spine, seeing how much you trust him. Stepping closer, he eases your legs apart with one hand. Removing your panties, Jungkook lets them fall and presses his hips to your ass from behind.

“Did you bring a condom?” he murmurs, savoring your intake of breath.

Your head tips back a little. “I – no,” you blurt, eyes widening. “I didn’t think of it.”

Satisfaction seeps through his chest when Jungkook realizes you didn’t plan on sleeping with Liam. That’s something, at least. Something he can give you that no one else can. 

Chuckling lowly, he caresses your ass – only to bring his palm down. “Didn’t think of it,” Jungkook breathes, dragging two fingers through your dripping sex. “Hm. I don’t believe that.”

“Don’t” – a sharp inhale – “believe what?”

Spanking you again, Jungkook presses you against the door. “I don’t think you forgot a condom,” he murmurs, low in your ear. “I think that you wanted my cum inside you. Is that right? Want me to fuck you raw?”

He pauses, waiting for your reaction before he continues. You let out a whimper, pressing your ass backwards in clear invitation. Fuck. Jungkook nearly swears out loud, consumed by the thought of what it would feel like. Sex without a condom has never been practical for him but now, Jungkook finds himself imagining.

Slowly, he circles your dripping entrance. Sliding his finger inside, Jungkook lets you adjust before he pulls out. “You’re such a dirty girl,” he exhales, adding a second finger.

Pushing backwards, your legs widen slightly to accommodate him. Jungkook slowly moves in and out, stretching your entrance.

“Tell me you don’t want that,” he murmurs. “Me, bending you over and fucking you hard in this closet. Filling you up to the brim with my cum.”

It’s hard for Jungkook to concentrate once the thought has been voiced. If he can’t have you the way he wants to, he can at least pretend. When you moan your approval, it only stokes his flames higher.

“I could do that right now,” Jungkook continues, dropping his voice. “Fuck you so hard, then cum inside this perfect pussy. When I’m done, I’ll tug your panties up, put on your dress and send you back out there. Except” – his voice catches – “I’ll know. And you’ll know that your sweet, little pussy has been used by me. Belongs to me. Is full of me.”

You groan, arching into him while his fingers fill you. The image is provocative, imagining his claim when you return to Liam. Even if you don’t want Jungkook like that, your body clearly does – and Jungkook knows he can satisfy you better than anyone. The thought of his cum dripping down your thigh when you return to your date brings more than a little dark satisfaction.

“Jungkook,” you pant. 

“What, princess?” he murmurs, refocusing on the present.

“I – I’m close.”

“Already?” Grazing his teeth against your shoulder, Jungkook quickens his pace. “Let’s give you an orgasm to start, then.”

You whimper, thighs trembling as he pushes you over the edge. It’s not long before you gasp his name, spasming around Jungkook until he withdraws his fingers.

Exhaling slowly, you hang your head. Tugging down his zipper, Jungkook doesn’t waste any time. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a condom and rips this open. The tear of the packet makes you turn your head.

Dazed, your gaze latches onto the motion. “You… had a condom on you?”

Jungkook smirks and rolls this on. “You seemed to enjoy the idea of my cum inside you.”

Your eyes narrow, but you don’t disagree and Jungkook steps forward to press his cock to your core. Any trace of annoyance vanishes, replaced by desire as he drags his cock up and down. Jungkook nearly swears when he feels how wet you are, rubbing his head against your swollen clit. 

Slowly, he leans forward to press you against the door. “Is this what you want?” Jungkook urges, reaching lower to grasp his length with one hand. Casually, he smacks your clit with his cock. “Want my cock inside this needy pussy?”

“God, yes,” you groan as you lower your head.

Hearing this is searing and suddenly, Jungkook doesn’t feel like playing games. “Good,” he agrees and thrusts forward.

You gasp when he enters, gaze focused on the place where he fills you. Jungkook nearly swears when he feels the slickness of your heat, the easy way you envelop him when he slides in. Pausing halfway, he waits until you adjust before pushing further. Slow, easy thrusts until you take his whole length.

Jungkook grunts when he bottoms out, hips pressed snugly against your ass. Refusing to move, he begins to tease your body. Sliding one hand up your torso to cup your full breast in his palm. Casual, he plays with your tit as he starts to thrust – pulling back out, only to slide slowly in.

He does this again and again, memorizing your body until your patience disappears. Taking over the rhythm, you set the pace and push back on his cock. Jungkook allows you to lead before deciding enough is enough and resuming control. Grasping your hip, he presses you to the door and feels you inhale.

Your body melts with his, showcasing your trust and Jungkook nearly breaks. Thrusting forward, he fills you with everything that you crave. You want him to fuck you? So be it. You want him to give you an orgasm? Jungkook will do it. He’ll give you everything you ask, even if it costs him himself.

Touching your body everywhere he can reach, Jungkook feels a building urgency. Playing with your clit, teasing your breast, turning your face sideways to lick up your throat. Savoring your taste, he pounds into your body and hopes against reason you’ll remember tonight.

Based on the way your body trembles, the prospect is promising. Jungkook knows that he’s big. It’s something he’s heard before, but you take him so easily and without complaint. He knows you enjoy the sensation, that you appreciate the feeling of too-fullness he gives. The thought makes him even harder, his cock throbbing with each punishing thrust into your slick heat.

Sliding one palm underneath your knee, Jungkook opens you further and fully lets go. He feels your body constrict, fluttering around him to let him know you’re close.

“That’s it,” he grunts, gripping your jaw to turn your face to his. “Is this what you want? Want me to make you come?”

Silently, he begs you with his eyes to say something different. That you want more than sex, but nothing in your expression seems to understand.

“Yes,” you gasp, eyelashes fluttering. “Yes.”

Pressing his mouth to yours, Jungkook claims you when you come apart. You squeeze him so tightly, he wonders if you somehow know this might be the last time. Forcing himself to continue until your final wave, Jungkook finally comes in a heated shudder.

He stays there for a moment, breath rising and falling against your bare skin. Squeezing his eyes shut, Jungkook imagines briefly this won’t be the end. That he can leave this closet, walk you back to your family and – here, stops the daydream because you came here with Liam.

Slowly, Jungkook withdraws and ties the condom in a knot. Clearing his throat, he fumbles for words while glancing around the closet.

This is the last time. It has to be the last since Jungkook can’t continue to break himself into pieces. Can’t continue to fuck you and send you home to him.

Quietly, you adjust the strap of your dress. Jungkook keeps his hands still, itching to help but convincing himself not to. Every part of his body screams at him to stay, to do something – say something – but he forces himself to stay.

Tucking himself into his pants, Jungkook pulls up the zipper. He feels the weight of your gaze on his cheek, uncertain. When he finally meets your eyes, Jungkook forces his expression to harden. After a moment, he looks past – towards the door.

Something in your posture stiffens. “Jungkook,” you say, sounding wary. “Why are you here?”

The answer rises to his lips, but Jungkook stamps it back down. He came to apologize. To tell you how he felt but all possibilities ended the moment you entered with Liam.

“Are you dating Liam?” Jungkook asks, the words slipping past. Cursing himself for the sudden lapse, he tries not to notice the way you react. 

“I… what?” 

Jungkook feels his lips tighten. “Are you dating Liam Jessen?”

“We…” You blink, hesitating a moment. “We’ve been on a few dates.”

Neither a yes nor a no, but either way, the words are enough to sink his last hope. Jungkook’s heart drops, and he nods.

Only a few dates is both good and bad. It’s good that the number is small – bad that despite this, you wanted Liam to meet your family. Swallowing hard, Jungkook tastes the scorched earth of his anger. He concentrates on this rather than on sorrow – easier to face you with vitriol in his heart.

Gaze flickering, you step closer. “Jungkook, I –”

“This should probably be the last time we do this, right?” 

You freeze, the heat from your body tangible. The look on your face is shock, clear and uncalculated, and Jungkook’s anger swells in response. You have no right to look at him that way – as though he were the villain breaking your heart.

“You…” Dazed, you shake your head. “We what?”

“You and Liam are together, right?” Jungkook asks, the words coming out sharp.

“Together isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Then what word would you use?” His words bleed with frustration, and Jungkook isn’t sure what he’s searching for. 

Except that’s not true because he does know. If you said you wanted him, Jungkook would end this right now. He’d say that he wants you, and that he wants things to change. Even while thinking this though, Jungkook knows it’s unfair. He can’t expect you to put your heart on the line when he’s not willing to do the same.

Either way, you say nothing and slowly, Jungkook’s frustration vanishes. Any answer would be preferred to this punishing silence. 

“Thought so,” he breathes, grasping for straws. “Wasn’t that part of the rules? We’d fuck until you found someone else to date?”

You recoil slightly, and it takes all Jungkook’s willpower to keep himself still. It’s better this way, he reasons. Better for you to hate him now than peer beneath the surface and see how much he’s hurting.

“That was a long time ago,” you counter. “And that’s not everything I said to you.”

Jungkook suppresses his wince because he knows. He knows things have changed since the night you gave your rules. Remembers with perfect clarity standing in your kitchen and hearing you say Jungkook’s mom would be proud. 

He remembers entering your body later that night, cupping your face with both hands to brush his lips against yours. Jungkook knows things have changed and still, he pushes you away because it seems better – safer – than you pushing him first.

“You’re right,” he says, slipping both hands in his pockets. “You also implied things could end if I caught an STD.”

Your brow furrows. “Jungkook,” you say, reaching for him. “Just stop. Let’s –”

“I have feelings for someone,” he blurts.

At this, your hand freezes. Jungkook wishes you would touch, aches for the brush of your skin but forces himself to stay silent. It’s too late for reconciliation – he can tell by the flashes of emotion chasing each other across your face. 

Shock, confusion, and where he expects anger, Jungkook finds something far worse – hurt.

“Do… I know her?” 

Jungkook’s heart cracks down the middle. He can’t possibly say that you are her. If he did, you’d be forced to choose between him and Liam, and Jungkook already knows how that’d go. Everyone chooses someone else in the end.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says at last.

You stare at him another moment, causing Jungkook to wonder if you see through him. Then, your expression crumples and you withdraw your hand.

“Right,” you whisper.

Jungkook’s resolve falters. “I just… don’t want to drag this out,” he says, and even to his ears, the words sound weak. “I think it would be better to end things now. Before someone gets hurt.” 

The words are nearly cause for laughter because it’s much too late for that. 

“Right,” you exhale. “Is that why you came here tonight?”

When Jungkook pauses, disappointment settles over your features.

“Well, good,” you say, lifting your chin. “Okay. We said we’d hook up as long as it made sense. If it doesn’t make sense, we should end it.”

Something jerks in his stomach. “Y/N…”

A bitter laugh escapes you, reaching backwards. “Don’t Y/N me.”

“I get that you’re upset, but –”

“Upset?” Your entire body freezes, fury limning your eyes. “I’m not upset, Jungkook – I’m pissed. You avoided me for weeks just to show up at my parents’ party, fuck me in a closet and end this? Which – oh my god,” you say, something like horror crossing your face. “We had sex, Jungkook. What would the woman you supposedly like have to say about that?”

Jungkook’s chest seizes, making breathing difficult. Everything you say is true and already, he can tell he’s going to regret this.

“She’d hate it,” he admits, soft.

You pause, brow furrowing. “Well, okay. As long as you… agree with me?”

Jungkook can only stare at you, helpless. “This is for the best, Y/N. I know that it is. You have Liam, and I – well, I made a mistake coming here. I shouldn’t have followed you in here. Or kissed you. I –”

“That’s enough,” you snap.

Your chest rises and falls, anger barely restrained when Jungkook falls silent. He knows he crossed a line, and truthfully, he regrets nothing except how things are ending. And maybe the way he left your place that one morning.

“I really am sorry,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, well.” You take a deep breath, reaching behind you. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, right? We were casual. Only sex. And now we’re nothing.”

It’s nothing Jungkook hasn’t thought before, but your words skewer him in a way he didn’t think possible. Light from the hall floods the closet when you leave, striping the floor with Jungkook’s own shadow.

He allows you to go, knowing it’s for the best as he drags a hand down his face. Exhaling deeply, Jungkook tries to suppress the tears pricking his eyelids.

Logic which once seemed simple now seems indecipherable. Jungkook thought ending things would be cleaner but now, he’s not sure. Did you really want Liam to meet your parents, or did it happen by chance? More importantly – were you planning to end things with Jungkook?

A sliver of uncertainty enters his thoughts, but Jungkook forces himself to move on. There’s no point in wondering what-if. You two are over. He won’t see you again.

The enormity of this crashes over him and suddenly, it’s hard for Jungkook to breathe. He forces himself to inhale, taking slow, shallow breaths until the feeling passes. Eventually, Jungkook opens the closet door and steps into the hall. 

Most of the walk to the car is a blur, only sharpening once he settles into the driver’s seat. Clutching the steering wheel with both hands, Jungkook stares at his knuckles. If you weren’t planning on ending things tonight, that would mean Jungkook has turned into the very person he fears.

Cold, blind, and ultimately – hopeless.

© kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[cicerfics]

Hi! What are your thoughts on books and movies for Q and James? What are some of their favourites?

Ooh. OK, I'll focus on books for now and maybe do movies in a different post!

OK, I think Q loves fiction a lot but gravitates toward stuff written at least a century in the past. I think he's very interested in reading things written in a very different time period than his own.

I think most people expect him to love sci-fi, but he tends to be incredibly impatient with the genre because he just cannot suspend his disbelief hard enough to enjoys most mainstream sci-fi. But he has read and enjoyed some Cixin Liu, some Octavia Butler, and some Ursula Le Guin. He also likes the classics (like Isaac Assimov and Jules Verne).

I also see Q as a person who very much likes nonfiction books about both art and science, as well as the occasional biography.

I think something that surprises people about Bond is that he's a real bookworm. Contrary to popular believe, he can sit still for hours at a time, he enjoys books as a way to unplug and disappear from the world for a while. He's very well-read on almost every topic, and he spends a lot of time reading in airports on on trains.

He does like nonfiction about military stuff (in the classic fashion of 'middle-aged dad who only wants to read books about WWII'). But he also likes to pick up nonfiction books on random topics, just for the sake of expanding his knowledge base. He particularly likes travel books, biographies, and sci-fi.

One of his best kept secrets is that he's also a romance novel junkie! It happened by accident: it's just that mass-produced romance novels are the one thing he can always find in any train station, bus station, or airport. They're easy to read and he can devour them quickly, without needing much focus. They just suited his needs as a spy and hired killer who travels a lot.

But he has basically read every book that falls into 'the CEO's secret wife/the duke's surprise lovechild/the greek billionaire's marriage plot' type of genre. He is a connoisseur of Harlequin and Mills and Boon romances! He finds them incredibly cheesy and often cringey, but in a very soothing way...and while he'd never admit it out loud, he secretly likes the idea of a happily-ever-after.

[nctdreams4me]

In Service of Mr Wayne

Synopsis: I need to do my part in protecting Gotham City - my home - from further decay and corruption. What I discover at the long abandoned Wayne Manor is beyond anything I am prepared for...6 nameless men, coming into the light as I uncover the truth about a legend, and my own past...

Pairing: Y/N (Femme/She/Her) X NCT U "The BAT" subunit (Johnny/Yuta/Jungwoo/Hendery/Jeno/Jisung)

Genre: Mystery Thriller Smut, Mostly PWP, Crappy Depictions of Batman lore so please DC/Batman fans don't read this. I did no research and superheroes are not my strong suit.

Word Count: 7k+

Rating: Explicit Sex, Mature, PWP, 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Gangbang, Blow Jobs, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Spit Roasting (I think ToT), Double Penetration, Cream Pie, Cum Swallowing, filth I wrote in a sleep deprived state

Author's Note: Someone has to have written a better "The BAT" smut piece, please, someone tell me there are fics based off this video already? ToT Cuz look....I am in NO state to be writing this sort fic.

I wrote this in like 4 hours IDK what else to say. I just needed to purge this out of my system. Take it for what it is, me being horny for NCT ToT PS. Sorry for everything, I barely edited it. I wrote this just a few hours ago. I should be in bed. Enjoy.

* * *

The night air was still, not even a breeze. With the clouds covering the moon, darkness cloaked the manor that sat at the top of the hill overlooking the sea. I tried my best to blend into the quiet atmosphere as I pressed the pass code to the gate, one careful digit at a time, ears straining for any sort of noises.

The loud creaking from the metal gate doors sent my heart jumping around like the Trix rabbit after getting a bite of that sweet processed fruit shaped cereal. Looking around, the night remained black, even my feet before me difficult to make out, grey shapes I hoped wasn’t a trap just about to stun me into unconsciousness.

A new pass code at the front door before I heard the giant oak doors unlock. Gloved hand pushing the door, I entered into the empty mansion of retired billionaire, Bruce Wayne.

Or that was what he wanted the public to believe.

I received an anonymous tip about Mr. Wayne hiding his hobbyist life. Did his broken body really come from a random car collision?

Or had the elusive billionaire gotten his body mangled behind the private walls of Wayne Corp?

It was up to the truth seekers of Gotham City to figure out the honestly of these stories.

My filthy, corrupted city - the only place I ever called home - was undeserving of deceit and exploitation. It was the local folks like my family and neighbors who helped me work my way up in life.

Despite our broken down apartment and dangerous streets that we called home, my community supported me through school and I’d gotten a step up in life by landing a job at the Gotham Gazette.

Sure, I’m just the mail delivery girl on the 7th floor - but I’d received a white, unmarked envelope in my locker. Inside was a dark, blurry grey picture of what looked like 6 bodies (shapes, to be honest) standing at the edge of a cliff, miles high above the ocean. The only writing was on the back of the picture. “Outside Wayne Manor” with a date just 3 days before.

Below were 3 sets of 7 digit numbers.

I’ve always thought there was something funny about Gotham’s philanthropic CEO, but I was still in high school when Mr. Wayne announced his retirement after recovering from a life altering car accident. He moved away to enjoy his retirement with his broken back in Madagascar.

Almost a decade later, suddenly there’s a suspicious picture with 3 sets of numbers sent to me? I knew I’d been a bit chatty about wanting to get a chance to get a journalist role at Gotham Gazette, but so did half of the interns at the place.

I had to figure out the truth, and I hated my job, so I’d spent all my free time studying the history of Wayne manor. Allegedly, Mr. Wayne had sold the land off to a company based in South Korea, but the sale happened around his retirement. I couldn’t find the name of the company (or any human names) from my research.

The place seemed untouched. No news or announcement on any new developments. It was like Mr. Wayne left the property to rot.

I should have told someone about my investigation. But then again, I didn’t even know if I’d find anything. I was surprised the pass codes worked. It was instinctual to enter the numbers at the gate and door. Now that I was inside, I could text my best friend. Let them know where I was and why I was there.

But before I could take my phone out of my bag, I heard voices in the distance. Turning away from the closed front door, I saw light in the distance. Like there was an area down the hallway toward the right side that had a lamp light on.

Quietly, I walked carefully toward the light source, listening for more noises. The voices were too far away to make out but there was more than two people inside the manor.

Walking down the hallway, I took a quick glance around. The manor looked pristine, like it’d been cleaned from top to bottom regularly. Fully furnished, room to room, but eerily quiet and still.

Making it to the end of the hallway, I saw a set of stairs leading downwards, the light source coming from below.

Taking my phone out, I took a picture of the stairway that led downwards. It looked like it had appeared behind a sliding wall of some kind. A hidden entrance.

Slowly, left hand holding my phone out, I entered. I heard voices echoing along the giant cave.

“...days til we can unleash Batman Project 9.0 -”

“No one agreed on that as the title.”

“Johnny!”

“Hey, c’mon guys. We have to get all the cars into the cave before sunrise. This is Robin’s most important project.”

Step by step on the metal stairs, I got more and more insight into Mr Bruce Wayne’s secret hobby. He was…he was the Caped Crusader, the…

“It’s the Batman,” I blurted out, eyes falling to the symbol of the Batman - long wings with pointed tips inside a thick oval - adorned on a giant wall, red light adorned over the white sheet of the Batman symbol.

“Who the fuck are you?” There were a pair of hands on my shoulders from behind, pushing me forward. I gasped, losing my footing. “Johnny, did you order a seventh member?”

Making it to the bottom landing, I threw my hands out to catch onto the table, hip hitting the metal top. My eyes scanned the laptops and maps scattered on the table before going up to see four men standing before me.

All wearing black, all of them with hair slicked back. All tall and hovering over me. The tallest and broadest of the lot took a step forward, hands in his front pocket.

“You got her phone?” he asked, eyes on me before darting behind my left shoulder.

“She took a picture.” The guy who’d push me had dark red hair, big black eyes scanning me in my skin tight leggings. His front was up against my back as he handed my phone to the guy across the table. “I had no idea anyone even knew of our arrival.”

“I-I’m from the Gotham Gazette,” I said, trying to step away from the hot body behind me. I cleared my throat, standing up straight. “I-I got a tip that there was something going on here. Th-this is Mr Wayne’s mansion. W-what are you doing here? The people of Gotham deserve to know. When Mr. Wayne left, Batman did too. We always suspected-but-I”

My neck craned around as I took in the cave. Cars, guns, protective gear, too many screens and gadgets for me to take much else in.

“Well, we can’t have you revealing the truth of the Batman,” the tall guy holding my phone said. He handed my phone to another handsome man, before running a hand over his mouth, eyes scanning me. Less menacingly than the red haired guy. “If you want the protection like Mr Wayne and the Batman provided all those years ago, we can’t have you leave here. Not until we know what to do with you. Not until we launch the new Batman program. You’ll get a team of Batmans to help take care of your city. That’s what you want, right?”

I took a step back, seeing him step forward, but I ran right back into the red haired guy, his front hotter than just a moment ago.

“C’mon Johnny, she’s cute.” He planted his hands on the table, caging me into his arms. “We can get good PR if she works for the Gazette.”

“We can’t just let her loose based on her word,” the guy named Johnny said, hands back into his pants pockets.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t say anything to anyone,” one of the men behind him stepped forward. Milky skin, intense glare in his eyes as his hands fisted at his sides. “I can take care of a small thing like that.”

“Hey, I have a name.” I balled my own hands into fists. I'm not afraid to let these strangers know who I am. I have nothing to hide. I told them as much, giving them my name, telling them exactly how long I've lived on earth in Gotham, knowing my love and care for the rotten city went deeper than any of these strangers.

“We aren’t here to hurt you,” someone spoke up behind me. A beautiful man with pouty pink lips walked down the stairs, big eyes staring at me. “We want to clean up Gotham, too. We were all orphans. What do you think Mr Wayne did when he retired?”

“He…” I looked around. One tall handsome man after another. First one, Johnny. He was the only one with a name. Behind stood the man with the intense stare, his eyes making your heart beat faster. A taller guy stood behind him fiddling with a switchblade in his hands. Behind you stood the hot bodied red head and the beautiful pouty lipped stranger. “He raised an army of new Batmans?”

“So far only six of us,” Johnny said. He held a hand out, as if offering for me to take it. “I need you to trust us. We want to help. I’m Johnny.”

“I’m Jeno,” said the guy with the intense stare. His demeanor softened as Johnny shook my hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Don’t mind Jeno,” the one with switchblade said, throwing an arm around Jeno’s neck. “He’s more bark than bite. I’m Hendery.”

“Yuta, if you want to know my name,” the red haired guy said as he refused to let up space between us. His hand touched my hip. I stepped away, almost colliding into the pouty pink lipped guy. “Shy.”

“Come on Yuta, be nice.” The pouty lipped beauty gestured for me to take Johnny’s hand. “I’m Jungwoo.”

“Meet our young savant, Jisung,” Johnny said when I took his hand once more, stepping away from Yuta. He led me deeper into the cave, down a small set of stairs and toward an opening behind a dark corner. “Jisung! We made a new friend.”

I stopped, back colliding against Yuta as he remained behind me. He looked much older than I last remembered.

Jisung.

Handsome with muscular arms as a man. Sparkling eyes still soft with his pointed chin and high cheekbones. He belonged with his five handsome friends. All making me blush as they stared at me.

“Y-you’re supposed to meet us tomorrow,” he said. “Didn’t you get my letter? Who let you in?”

“You sent me that letter?” I wanted to punch his arm like when we were little, neighbors who played together. He could have simply come over to my place and explained. “There was nothing in there!”

His eyes scrunched up with his nose as he threw a hand to his forehead.

“I forgot to put the letter in with the picture.” He sighed, staring at me. My whole body flared up, seeing his eyes scan down and up my body. “At least Haechan dropped it into the right locker. You’re smart, figuring it all out with just the picture-not that I expected anything less from you.”

“Well, I did solve all the riddles in class,” I said, standing up straight. “What the hell is going on? Are you really bringing back the Batman?"

“I heard you needed help getting a foot into the Gotham Gazette, so why not team up with us?” he said. “I told Johnny I could get good PR with you.”

“This is-” I looked around the room, dozens of vehicles lined up neatly in the garage, domed walls making me feel like I could fall over at any second, “-impressive. What am I supposed to do?” “Tell the truth about what’s really happening with the criminals working with the corrupt cops and politicians,” Johnny replied. “We’ll have a security team work with you. Ensure no one’s following you or trying to breach into your phone and private affairs. We plan to keep your contacts anonymous and safe too.”

“And how am I supposed to trust you?”

“Come on,” Jisung said, walking closer to you. “I stayed up all night watching over you that night your parents were gone. No one to look after us but each other.”

“And then you left me without a goodbye!”

Like the pain of losing a pet when I was little, I didn’t know how long I’d missed it until I saw Jisung staring at me with such a deep voice, eyes refusing to look away from me. My tears were wiped away with Jisung’s thumbs as he held my face in his palms.

“I’m sorry,” he said, lips against mine. Breathing mint into my mouth, taking over my senses. “We were kids. I didn’t know how to find you. Not until I returned.”

“Until now?!” His arms were around me, lips pressing against mine. I wanted him to keep kissing me, my arms wrapping around his neck.

“So don’t leave me.” His lips on my neck, he whispered my name against me. “Stay. Stay with me.”

“With us,” Yuta said. I held onto Jisung tighter as I felt a hand on my lower back. “You have to tell her, Jisung.”

“Tell me what?” I asked, pulling away from Jisung, standing up straight to look into his eyes. “Jisung? Tell me what?”

“You have to earn our trust too,” Johnny said. “Jisung vouched for you, we did a background check, but I have a strict third rule in terms of trust.”

Jisung took a step back as Johnny stood before me, hands going to my hips. His hands roamed down my ass before gliding up my sides and his long fingers fondled my breasts. Hands grazing down my back and between my thighs. Down my calves before he stood up and pressed his body against me.

“You seem clean,” he said, fingers pulling my chin up to stare into his eyes. “If you’re not in the Batman program I can only trust you if you can handle all six of us.”

“W-what?” I snorted. “Straight out of Pornhub. What a convenient rule to throw onto me when I’m alone with 6 strong men.”

“Yeah, more or less,” Johnny said, hands on my hips as he pressed his front against me, hot cock hardening against my stomach. “You were a stupid fucking girl to sneak in here in the dead of night. Trespassing on private property. Honestly, I’d cage you up for that. But since you’re Jisung’s friend, this is considered a gift.”

“Jisung.” My eyes darted over to him, right behind Johnny. My heart beat thrumming against my throat as I felt Yuta’s breath at the crook of my neck, his cock poking against my ass. “You’re not…you’re not going to-” “Rules are rules.” Jisung's eyes were cold as he unbuckled the fastening at the wrist of his leather gloves. “I know you can handle this. You’re a fighter. We need fighters on our side.”

The confidence he had in me helped me take in a deep inhale, shaky breath outwards as my hands went under Johnny’s pants, helping him untuck his shirt.

“Fast learner, I like that,” he said, hands helping me unbutton his shirt. “Get down on your sexy knees and suck some dick.”

My whole head was spinning. Hands gliding down Johnny’s thick thighs as I dropped down to my knees. The words and affection of these men was convincing me to help Gotham out by using my body.

If I had to use my mouth on six cocks, I could do it. Prove to Jisung that I was as resilient as he believed me to be.

Johnny exhaled loud and slow as I planted kisses on his hard abs. Fingers undoing his belt buckle and zipper, palms stroking his long, thick cock. It was hot as it grew in my fist. A soft giggle escaped as I looked up at Johnny, seeing him bite his lip.

Hands massaging my scalp. He was impatient as one palm pressed against the back of my head, shoving my mouth against his wet, musky cock. Tongue licking along his length, I inhaled his taste. Licked and sucked his balls as I stroked his thick hairy cock.

“Fuck, keep it up.” He was lost in loud inhales and exhales, eyes shut as I put the tip into my mouth, sucking softly like I needed to drink up the contents inside his thick meat. “Shiit.”

I ate up more of him as I sucked in. Slowly sinking his cock in, inch by inch. Hoping my throat didn’t constrict until I had him in more than halfway. Hand massaging his balls, I gagged as his tip shoved down my throat, no air as it constricted.

“Don’t you fucking forget me,” I spat out as I stroked him fast, my slimy bubbly saliva all over his hairy cock. I sucked on his tip again, tongue swirling around the sensitive pink mushroom. “Who’s next?”

I looked over my shoulder to see Yuta undoing his pants. He’d been horny for me the second he laid eyes on me. I couldn’t wait to see if he could handle me.

I stood, pushing Johnny away as his fingers tugged at my jacket. I slipped it off, letting it fall to the floor as I walked over to Yuta, pushing him to sit onto the roof of a shiny black Porsche.

“Fucking pervert,” I breathed against his lips as his hands palmed my ass. “Haven’t been able to keep your hands off me, can you? Can’t wait to let me suck you dry?”

“Prove it.” His hands fell to his side as my hands went under his shirt to feel his abs. He was soft, smooth. A scent like ocean breeze and cloves right up into my sinuses as we kissed, my left hand slipping down his front to find a smooth, warming cock. “Anyone can choke on a giant cock.”

“Fuck you,” Johnny said. He groaned as I heard the wet noises of him stroking himself. “You’re going to cum the second she licks your balls.”

“Let’s see,” I said, smiling up at Yuta as he grabbed my hair, tugging my neck back. I whined, hands grasping onto his thighs for leverage. “Asshole.”

“Suck it,” he cooed out gently. Hissing with a loud exhale as I swirled my tongue around his tip. It poked against the left side of my cheek. I glided my tongue up against his sweet cock. Gathering saliva in my hand to stroke his base. “Fuck, you’re no fucking joke.”

I lifted his cock as I sucked his left nut before licking the right, using both hands to massage his shaft and tip.

“You’re a greedy fuck,” I said as I stood up, continuing to massage his tip with the tips of my fingers. “All about you and everything all over your cock.”

He pulled me in for a kiss, arms wrapping around my waist. Pervert sucking up my spit, making it a point to get a good taste of Johnny as his tongue explored my mouth.

“Go on, pick the next one,” Yuta said, releasing me, hands pulling my sweater off. “Whose dick will taste better than mine? Hm?”

I felt a hand palm my left breast, feeling blood rush up to my brain, making it hard for me to focus. A soft kiss on my shoulder as a pair of hands led me out of Yuta’s hot hold.

“Come on, pretty girl,” Jungwoo said, hands unhooking my bra from behind. “Press those pretty tits between my dick. Johnny, can I cum on her face?”

He looked away from me, standing up straight as he looked over at Johnny.

“You just want a titty job?” Johnny asked.

“We’re only cumming once?”

My whole body flared up like I'd been struck by lightning as I looked down at Jungwoo tugging his pants off. His pink cock wasn’t as hairy or thick as Johnny’s, but he was much longer than Yuta.

I was beginning to look forward to comparing the taste of their cocks. See whose cock fit my mouth the best. Jungwoo began pulling his clothes off, eyes on my body as he reached out to palm my tit.

“Jungwoo,” I said, hand reaching up to caress his muscular arms, “your body is amazing.”

“Thank you,” he said, face flushing pink. “I don’t have tits like you. Your body is amazing.”

I laughed against his lips as he pulled my body against his. His kisses were soft, he moaned when his tongue parted my lips.

“I’d love your tits around my dick,” he requested softly, hand stroking my neck.

I wanted to suck his dick dry, because he was so soft and gentle, but if he wanted a titty fuck…

I got down onto my knees, hands cupping my breasts as I wrapped them around his wet, squiggly cock. Holding my tits firmly around Jungwoo, I spat out to get some lube onto his tip.

The whole room was filled with low groans. My head snapped up as I saw all six men staring at me.

In that moment, spit gliding down between my tits and Jungwoo’s cock, I finally realized that I was fucking 6 guys.

All of them enjoying the sight of me.

Jungwoo moaned, hands scooping my hair up into a ponytail as his left hand held my hair secure. His hips thrust against me.

“So pretty,” he panted, praising me continually as his cock lit up my chest. “So fucking pretty. Your tits. Lovely.”

“My turn,” Jeno said loudly, hand wrapping around my arm as I felt Jungwoo’s breathing grow shallow. “Jesus, Jungwoo, learn to hold it in longer.”

Jungwoo’s whimpered, shriveling as I left his body. On my feet, I couldn’t stop staring at Jungwoo. Sweat was gliding down his bare chest, perfect nipples hardened as he nodded at me. Fighting to keep his eyes open as he breathed heavily through his mouth.

“I’ll cum later.”

“Pretty, pretty lips,” Jeno said softly as he pushed me to sit on top of a black Ferrari. Fingers groping my cheeks as his palm pressed up against my chin. “Been a while since I’ve had such pretty lips on my cock.”

My eyes shut, feeling his sweet sugary lips over mine. His mouth was clean, free from the cock musk of his 3 friends. I sucked on his lips, loving the sweetness over my sinuses and taste buds. He moaned onto my tongue as my hands palmed his stiff cock through his pants.

“More bark than bite,” I breathed against his neck before sucking on his porcelain skin. Tongue gliding up against his Adam’s apple, feeling his heartbeat against the tip of my tongue. “Make sure you never forget these pretty lips.”

He was quick to be rid of all of his clothes. He pulled me up to my feet before he pulled my leggings and panties off, stating I needed to be naked for him.

Kissing up and down his shaft, I shut my eyes, savoring the special earthy taste of Jeno. He was like a woodsy forest, dewy and mossy, filling my senses with his calming scent. Smooth cock, thick and hot against my lips.

Licking up and down his big dick, I opened my eyes to see him with furrowed eyebrows, mouth hanging open with intense focus on me. Lips finding the thick blue vein on the left side of his cock, I sucked on it gently before licking my tongue against it, savoring the way the vein pulsed angrily against my taste buds.

Fingers from both of his hands fisted into my hair as I swallowed his tip, loosening my jaws, wanting to take all of him in. He breathed evenly as he shoved my head back and forth on his cock.

“So fucking pretty,” he panted, grip on my hair tightening, sending blood right up to my scalp as he thrust his tip back and forth against my throat, paying no mind to me gagging and spitting onto him, “Jungwoo’s right, you’re so fucking pretty.”

He released my hair as my hands pushed against his hips. I coughed inhaling air, mouth free from his thick cock. Hands stroking him as I blinked away tears from my eyes. My entire vision blurred when I was choking on his cock. My nipples and clit were throbbing, wanting a cock to be rough on my pussy too.

“Saving the best for last,” Hendery said, hands smooth as he pulled off his black leather vest, revealing a tan body, six pack abs glistening with sweat. Pecks smooth and firm. “Consider me warm up for your childhood friend.”

Jeno had me in his arms as he planted kisses onto my tits. An electric jolt hit my clit as Jeno wrapped his mouth around my left tit and sucked hard on it. My mind blanked as my whole focus fell onto the unbearable pain of Jeno grinding his teeth onto my swollen nub.

I moaned, feeling another mouth clamp around my right breast. Hendery sucked hard, his teeth giving my right tit the same pleasure Jeno gave my left.

“She’s good,” Hendery said through gritted teeth, hand shoving against Jeno’s chest.

I giggled, hands holding onto Hendery’s shoulders as  he stepped me away from Jeno’s possessive hold. His lips went to suck on my neck before landing over my lips. Hand on my chin, he broke our kiss. Lips almost as sweet as Jeno.

His hands roamed down my back, groping my ass before caressing my sides and tits. His mouth returned to my tits, eyes barely open as he continually kissed and licked my fleshy mounds. I shut my eyes, blood rushing up my back when he made eye contact with me, tongue licking my left tit.

“I want to play with you so much,” he said softly, fingers pressing up against my slit. My hips shook as I pushed myself closer to him. “Show me how good you can suck my dick, first. Kinky little thing.”

Obedient to his gentle order, I got down onto my knees, hands helping him tug his pants down as he sat down onto the table. Shutting my eyes as I wrapped my mouth around his citrusy musk, like inhaling oranges as his tip twitched down my throat, tickling my tonsils.

“Yes, so good.” His soft hisses encouraged me to keep bobbing back and forth. The taste of his cock was addictive, I wanted to keep sucking, as if his cock was an orange creamsicle. I wanted the foamy white stuff. “Fuck.”

His voice pitched up high, palm resting at the crown of my head as I sucked faster, left hand massaging his balls.

“How do you like it?” I asked, inhaling loudly when I let go of his tasty cock. My tongue lapped up sloppily against his balls as I fisted his shaft, stroking fast, chest swelling as Hendery’s hips shook and he whined. “Kinky enough for you, Hendery?” “Better not cum,” Johnny spoke up. “Hend, get it together man.”

“She’s a good cock sucker.” Hendery groaned, hands on my shoulders to pull me away from his cock. My jaw was hurting, knees feeling numb and raw, but the shy half smile he gave me sent a sharp surge of energy into me. I wanted to keep sucking him off. Find out if Hendery’s cum tasted as good as his cock. “Fuck, you’re a good cock sucker.”

“Thank you,” was all I could say, cheeks flushing.

“Come on.” Soft baritone reverberating down my spine as a pair of hot hands pulled at my hips, away from Hendery. “I’ve dreamed of this moment for months.”

“Jisung.” I turned around to see him with sweaty hair, damp tendrils falling over his eyes. I moaned as his fingers glided up and down my sides. His hand landed on my shoulder. “I-i…are you sure you want to do this with me?” His hand over my right led me to his stiff cock, smooth and hot. His eyes closed, his head tilted up into the air, hissing as I stroked down on him. I kept stroking him, feeling tears welling at the corners of my eyes.

Chest shaking, I wanted to please Jisung. I wanted to taste him. I knew he’d taste better than anyone else, but…

Blinking away the tears, I fell to my knees. Mouth kissing his tip, I laughed against his cock as it twitched. Tongue swirling around his tip, I stroked the bottom of his shaft before kissing his cock well. I wanted to know every centimeter of his cock against my lips, never forget Jisung’s cock.

His groan rang deep into me when I pushed his cock into my mouth. Thick tip engulfing the entirety of my mouth as I tried to suck in more. Tongue lapping up against him as best as I could. Savoring his earthy musk, licking up his bitter sweat. Making my mouth pool, pussy just as wet.

Tears leaking out the corners of my eyes as I looked up at him, hands massaging his balls. I tried to steadily suck his cock, but I felt a shiver ride up my back.

Releasing him, I let out a sob. I landed down on my ass, legs tucked under me as I wiped my tears away. Jisung called out my name, stooping down to pick me up.

I felt at least 3 pairs of hands on my body as I got onto my feet. Shaking my head, I thought of the glint of pride in his eyes when he said he needed a fighter.

“Fuck me, Jisung,” I said, sitting on the edge of the table. “Anywhere and any way. Who wants the other hole?” “Fuck, look at how kinky you are,” Hendery said, body pressed up against my left side, fingers fondling my folds. He hissed when I moaned, body hot with pleasure. “I knew you were kinky.”

“Yuta’s got dibs on the asshole,” Yuta said, pulling me back onto my feet.

“Of course.” I laughed as I felt his arms wrap around my waist, lips on my neck.

Yuta laid down onto the edge of the Porsche, hand fisting his cock, keeping himself hard. Jisung helped me get onto the car, hands unable to stop groping my body, fingers teasing my folds. Lips on my body as I laid on top of Yuta, back to Yuta.

My mind blanked as Jisung stood over me, bending over so he can position his cock against my pussy. Looking up at him, seeing sweat drip down his chin, gliding down the sides of his face, my whole body throbbed along to Yuta’s heartbeat underneath me. Head falling against Yuta’s chest as I felt Jisung's thick cock slide into my wet hole.

“Sucking that much dick makes you wet.” Jisung grunted, hands firmly holding onto my hips. I mewled, feeling him go in deeper, cock squirming as my walls enveloped him. Palming my tit, he nodded as he stilled inside of me. “Fucking precious cunt, you're mine.”

“Ji-jisung,” I moaned. Eyes shut, my hands squeezed his arms as I felt Yuta guiding the tip of his cock into my ass. “Yuta, y-you didn’t-lube-or-prep-”

“I’ll be slow,” he breathed against my ear. The knots in my stomach twirled tight as I felt two throbbing cocks fill both my holes. “So tight.”

“Get to sucking,” Johnny ordered, hand fisting my hair as he directed my mouth to his cock. He stood beside the low sitting car, cock right against my face. I moaned, refusing to break eye contact with him as I took more of him in, trying my best to loosen my throat and jaws. He groaned, controlling me with his fist in my hair. “Good girl. I’ll trust you when you swallow my cum.”

My entire body was ablaze. All I could focus on was trying to breathe through my nose as Johnny’s massive cock assaulted my throat, my neck straining. Senses overloaded as I struggled to breathe or taste anything but Johnny's salty cock.

My pussy was aching. Jisung didn’t give any shits how Yuta’s cock was affecting me. His thrusts were relentlessly fast as he chased for his release. Hands kneading my tits as he groaned out praises over how good my pussy was. Moaning around Johnny’s cock, he benefitted from the ways Jisung fucked me.

Yuta’s ragged breaths shaking under me sent chills deep into me, slow careful thrusts against my asshole creating deep ripples of pressure into my guts. Relentlessly slow and pleasurable, I moaned onto Johnny’s cock again.

My grip on Jisung’s thighs tightened as I felt Johnny’s hot cum spurt into my mouth. Holding my head still with both hands Johnny grunted as he shoved his cock down my throat.

“Swallow it,” he commanded, voice sharp. “Swallow.”

Obeying I gulped as best as I could with his cock keeping my mouth open. Gulping again when his cock left. He laughed as he got down and kissed me, tongue lapping all over lips and chin. He hummed against my lips before letting me go.

“Fuck, Jisung, she’s one hell of a fuck.” Johnny’s heavy panting intensified the shivers down my back with every thrust of Yuta’s throbbing cock inside my asshole. “Fuck, get to it Jungwoo.”

Yuta cummed, hips thrusting up hard, interrupting Jisung’s fast strokes. I gasped, whining as Yuta’s tip pressed up hard into me. Such a hard thrust, it felt like he hit the back of my cervix. I barely had mind to notice Jisung getting off, cursing as he glared at Yuta.

I whined, feeling Yuta’s cum heat up my ass. Eyes shut, I bit my bottom lip as the tingles rode up my back into my guts.

It wasn’t until his lips were against me did I realize that Jisung had me in his arms. Yuta had given me to Jisung once he got his release.

What a fucking gentleman.

Jisung’s soft lips on me brought my mind back to him. I wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking him gently, hoping he hadn’t gotten hurt with Yuta’s greedy fucking.

“Jeno, let her sit on your lap.” Jisung let me go as he looked over to Jeno. He smiled, hand fisting his cock. “Put on a good show.”

“About fucking time,” Jeno said, taking my hands as he sat down on the Ferrari. Hands fondling my breasts as he pulled me onto his lap. “Gorgeous body. Soft tight pussy. Let’s get it, Jungwoo.”

I shivered, heat riding down my back as Jeno’s teeth nipped my earlobe. Tongue gliding down the side of my neck. Left hand squeezing my tit as his right hand parted my legs wider with every soft caress down the inside of my thighs.

“Fuck.” I moaned, whimpering as the pads of his fingers stroked up and down against my aching clit. Tip of his middle finger sinking into my pussy. “Jeno, I like how you handle me.”

“I know,” he whispered against my ear, tongue teasing the shell, “so hot deep in here. For me, yeah? For me.”

I moaned as his finger went in deep, thumb rubbing against my clit. Lips on the pulse at the side of my neck, Jeno’s fingers left my pussy. Instantly, his cock was parting my lips, tip prodding against my clit.

“Time to multitask,” Jungwoo said, stepping forward, eyes fixed on my face. His lovely, big brown eyes scanned down my body, long slender fingers massaging my tit. “So pretty, I want to see those pretty lips on me.”

“Yes Jungwoo.” One hand caressing his abs, fingers collecting his hot sweat as I curled them into a fist before laying my palm flat to marvel his abs again. My other hand wrapped around his long cock. Hot thing pulsating, wet with clear precum leaking out the tip.

Tip of my tongue flicking against his tip, I tried to rub my taste buds against him, taste every bit of Jungwoo. I want to see if I could get those giant puppy eyes to bulge out, surprised with how good my mouth is. He whimpered, hands gently bobbing my head up and down as he thrust against my mouth.

“Fuck, suck him good,” Jeno breathed out, hands on my hips as he bounced me on his cock. I whined onto Jungwoo’s cock as I felt Jeno’s middle finger flicking my clit. “Cum on my cock. Cum on me.”

Trying to stroke Jungwoo’s shaft as I sucked on his balls, I tried not to get lost in the way Jeno’s cock was sending mind melting thrusts into me. Giant cock rearranging my insides as his fingers mashed my clit around like an elevator button.

I sucked hard when Jungwoo came, his hands holding onto my head as he stilled. Cute thing was silent when his cock softened in my mouth. His beautiful long fingers caressed my cheeks as he let me go. Silently walking away to pick up his clothes as Jeno stood us up.

He turned us around, my knees and palms hitting the top if the Ferrari. Hands on my hip Jeno pushed himself balls deep into me. One hand reaching for my right tit, he thrust back and forth hard. First time, I cried as the motions of his cock turned my vision red. Second time, we moaned together as he pulled me up against him, hand kneading my tit.

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” he panted, hand on my shoulder to push me forward, forcing me to plant my hands against the Ferrari again. Left hand on my hip as his hips slapped my ass. “Make me cum.”

“Jeno!” He spanked me. First on the right side and then the left.

“Tight cunt,” he panted with a guffaw. He kept spanking me with his cast iron skillet palms, red heat reverberating so deep into me my insides shook like Quasimodo ringing the bells of Notre Dame. My walls constricted around his cock again. He groaned as he quickened his pace. “Fuck, make me cum.”

By his own accord, he came as he spanked my asscheeks into bright red hot plates. Cock heating up hotter - like thick molten lava - in my belly before he pulled out and spilled his cum over my ass, smearing his cock against my thighs when he finished cumming. All I could feel and smell was Jeno's musk. Body reverberating with undiluted pleasure.

“Territorial shit,” Hendery said, pulling me away from Jeno. “You don’t always have to mark things when you cum.”

“Get it over with,” Jeno panted out, sitting back down onto the hood of the now fucked up Ferrari, eyes barely open. Sweaty back making squeaky noises as he laid down on it, completely naked.

Hendery rested his back against another black car - another Ferrari - as he kissed me. His soft kisses sent calming shivers down my body. His gentle touches on my body relaxing my muscles.

“Don’t think I’m done with you,” Jisung breathed against my ear before I felt him kiss the back of my shoulder.

I yelped, honeyed swoon as he tugged my ass against him, hand on my lower back guiding me to lean down closer to Hendery’s cock. Hendery’s citrusy musk consumed my senses as I took hold of his cock, licking up against the underside of his wet stick. My tongue glided over the parting of his ballsack, sucking up his sweet fresh musk as I felt Jisung glide his cock against the puffy lips of my pussy.

Hips shaking, I was ready to cum. Moaning into Hendery’s cock, I thrust my hips back, wanting Jisung’s cock to ruin me.

They both praised me as Hendery moaned at my mouth sucking on his smooth cock and Jisung sunk his cock into my wet pussy. Stroking Hendery hard, I licked around his tip, hoping he would come fast. My mouth was aching and my back was shaking, legs feeling weak.

Most of all I wanted to savor Jisung fucking me. His cock was heating my insides like the best cup of coffee on a chilly winter morning. Keeping me comfortably warm with every stroke into me.

Without warning, Hendery cummed into my mouth. Hands keeping my head still as he ordered me to swallow him.

“Swallow it good,” he said, similarly to Johnny. “Swallow, good girl. Good - fucking - girl.”

He fondled my breasts - soft fingers rolling my sensitive nubs around like marbles - as Jisung continued to fuck me. My hands grasped onto Hendery’s hips as I shut my eyes, moaning as Jisung’s cock radiated up into my stomach and up to my chest.

Hips thrusting against Jisung, I moaned as my entire body was hot and sweaty, lost in complete sex and lust. The stench of all 6 men all over me with my own sloppy sex all over the Bat Cave.

My back was pressed to Jisung’s front as he bent over, fingers intertwined with mine as he wrapped our arms around my waist. His thrusts were relentless, hips slapping roughly against my ass. He grunted, arms pulling me tighter against him as he came. Cum lighting up inside me, dripping down my legs.

"Jisung." I inhaled shakily as his cock left me. I fell to my knees, palms against the concrete to catch my fall. "Holy fuck, Jisung."

“You did great,” Jisung panted out, throwing a large trench coat over my shoulders, picking me up in his arms. “I told you, you’re a fighter.”

“Jisung,” I panted out, eyes roaming over the Batman symbol on the wall behind us adorned on the wall, “do you trust me now?"

Forehead against mine he nodded. A soft kiss on the lips. A calming warmth rode over my aching body, completely stuffed with cum. Sex filth all over me as all six Johnny, Yuta, Jungwoo, Hendery, Jeno and Jisung left me in ruins. Comfortably in Jisung’s arms.

"For today."

* * * THE END * * * Thank U 4 Reading! Like, reblog and send in Ask if you liked it!

[parkitrighthere]

The Black Orchid Project

Pairing: billionaire CEO!Jeon Jungkook x Secretory!Reader

Genre: Dark Romance, Mystery, Thriller

Word count: 8.3k

Trigger warning: This chapter contains morally grey characters, dark romance, trauma, violence, mentions of murder, conspiracy. Reader discretion is advised.

Summary:Jungkook is the enigmatic CEO of a major conglomerate with a haunting secret—he can hear everyone’s thoughts. But when Y/N becomes his new personal secretary, she’s the only person whose thoughts remain silent to him. Intrigued and unsettled, Jungkook is drawn to the mystery she presents, not realizing that their connection will unravel secrets neither of them are prepared to face.

a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv . The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

MASTERLIST 01

CHAPTER TITLE: The Thoughtless Encounter

As you approached the entrance of the building, the bold letters of "Jeon Enterprise" loomed above you like an imposing gatekeeper. The guard stationed at the door gave you a sceptical once-over. You held out your ID with a steady hand, your fingers trembling slightly. “Thank you,” you said, your voice smooth yet quivering with a hint of anxiety. The guard barely met your eyes, his nod curt and indifferent.

You had just aced an interview with one of the biggest companies in Asia. Today marked your first step into the role of personal secretary to Jeon Jungkook, the most sought-after bachelor in the region. Your heart raced with a cocktail of nerves and excitement. You had meticulously chosen a sleek black pencil skirt that showcased your curves and a crisp white shirt tucked neatly into your waistband. Your black blazer was tailored to perfection, adding a layer of confidence, and your pencil heels clicked sharply against the marble floor, each step echoing your resolve.

Inside, you approached the receptionist's desk, your voice soft but steady. “Excuse me,” you said. The receptionist, with her eyes fixed on her computer screen, barely glanced up. When she did, her eyes flicked over you with a scornful sweep. “So, you’re the new secretary for the CEO?” she asked, her voice laced with derision. “Yeah, won’t be for long,” she added, a sneer twisting her lips as she scrutinized you from head to toe.

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and indignation. It wasn't the kind of behaviour you expected on your first day, you clenched her jaw, trying to dismiss the receptionist’s attitude. The receptionist finally emerged from her cubicle, her heels clacking authoritatively as she motioned you to follow. As you walked behind her, the elevator ride to the 10th floor was a tense silence, the confined space amplifying your anxious thoughts.

When the doors opened, the receptionist led you to the HR office where Jimin, the director of Jeon Enterprises, awaited. Jimin stood with a warm, welcoming demeanour. His eyes sparkled with genuine friendliness, and his smile was like a beacon of reassurance. You felt a flutter in your chest, a welcome contrast to the coldness you had faced earlier.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed Jimin’s hand waving in front of your face. “Y/N?” he called gently, his voice a soothing melody that pulled you from your reverie. You blinked up at him, feeling a rush of relief at the softness of his tone.

“Please follow me,” Jimin said, his voice calm and encouraging. He began walking, and you followed closely, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. As they moved through the office, you glanced back and caught the receptionist’s glare. The receptionist’s lips curled into a venomous sneer, her eyes cutting through you with unmistakable disdain. The insult, “Slut,” was unspoken but clearly written on her lips.

Your face flushed with a deep red, your hands tightening into fists at your sides. Anger and embarrassment surged within you, but you forced yourself to maintain composure. You were not able to understand her behaviour towards you; the dread was already pilling in your stomach. Saying you were nervous would be an underwater, and you didn't wish to think about her. She wasn't worth it. You refocused on the welcoming figure of Jimin and the new chapter ahead, pushing aside the sting of the receptionist’s malice.

Jimin led you to the elevator, his hand hovering over the buttons before pressing for the 26th floor. The ride was smooth and silent, filled only with the faint hum of the elevator. When the doors slid open, your eyes widened, your breath catching in her throat. The entire floor was a masterpiece of modern elegance—every surface was a sleek, polished black that gleamed like obsidian. The sharp, clean lines of the architecture screamed sophistication, while the soft, warm glow of hidden lighting softened the atmosphere, making it both imposing and oddly welcoming.

“This is where you’ll be working,” Jimin said, his voice carrying a hint of pride as he stepped out, motioning for you to follow.

You hesitated for a moment, taking in your surroundings, then followed him down the corridor. Each step echoed lightly against the smooth marble floor. You both stopped in front of a large glass door, and your eyes immediately fell on the silver plaque beside it. Your name was already etched there, shimmering under the lights. A mixture of excitement and nerves bubbled in your chest as you pushed the door open.

The office inside was pristine and perfectly arranged. At the centre of the room was a large black desk, its surface almost empty except for a sleek computer and a few files aligned with almost obsessive precision. Behind the desk, floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a breathtaking view of the cityscape, the sunlight flooding in and casting a gentle glow over the minimalist black-and-white décor. To one side was a small seating area—plush leather chairs arranged around a low, glossy table, inviting yet formal, perfect for quick meetings or a quiet moment alone.

“This is… incredible,” you whispered, your voice tinged with awe as your fingers lightly traced the edge of the desk, still absorbing the room's atmosphere.

Jimin’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction as he watched your reaction, a small smile playing on his lips. “Glad you like it,” he said warmly, before gesturing for you to follow him again.

He continued down another hallway, and you followed along, each step bringing a subtle shift in Jimin's demeanour. His posture straightened, and the usual lightness in his expression grew more serious as you both approached a set of imposing double doors. “And this,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “is Jungkook’s office.”

He pushed open the doors, revealing an expansive room that radiated power and meticulous organization. The design echoed the sleek black aesthetic of the rest of the floor but felt more intense here. A massive desk dominated the centre, with a high-backed leather chair stationed behind it. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, filled with neatly arranged files, hardbound books, and glittering awards. On one wall, a large screen displayed a detailed, colour-coded schedule—everything was planned down to the minute.

Jimin’s gaze shifted to you, noticing the way your brows furrowed slightly as you absorbed the details. “Today’s schedule is pretty packed,” he said, drawing your attention back to him. “He’s got seven meetings lined up, back to back.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief, your lips parted slightly. “Seven meetings?” you echoed, your voice almost breathless. The very idea of keeping up with that kind of pace sent a shiver down your spine.

Jimin chuckled softly, catching the hint of concern in your expression. “Don’t worry,” he said reassuringly, his voice taking on a lighter tone again. “You won’t need to run around too much. Just call the office attendant if you need anything delivered or handled. They’ll take care of the legwork.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, nodding as you mentally prepared yourself for what lay ahead. The day was going to be intense, but as you took one last look around Jungkook’s imposing office, you couldn’t help but feel the challenge stir something within you—a mix of nerves and determination.

Jimin began listing the seven companies Jungkook would be meeting with today, each name more daunting than the last. His tone was smooth but carried a subtle edge, as if he was testing your resolve. “And remember,” he added, his lips quirking into a teasing smile, “don’t mess this up. Jungkook isn’t exactly known for his patience, especially when things go wrong.” The lightness in his laugh barely masked the weight behind his words. Your heart thudded faster, your mind racing as you tried to absorb everything being thrown at you.

Jimin’s expression softened as he reached into his bag and handed you a sleek iPad. “Here, I’ve set up a detailed schedule for you,” he said, tapping the screen to show you the neatly organized agenda. “This should help you get through the day without losing your mind. You can access it from your computer too. Unfortunately, I can’t stick around more than this.”

Your fingers gripped the device a little tighter, your eyes scanning the clear, step-by-step instructions. The knots in her chest loosened just a bit. “Thanks,” she murmured, though her voice trembled slightly with nerves.

Jimin’s gaze sharpened, his playful demeanour shifting to something more serious. “One more thing,” he said, leaning in slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Among all the companies, Kim Enterprises is the one you absolutely cannot afford to mess up. Make sure every document is ready and double-check everything. If anything goes wrong in that meeting… let’s just say you won’t like the outcome.” His words sent a cold shiver down your spine, your stomach twisting with unease. You nodded firmly, determination hardening your features. You weren’t about to let one mistake ruin the opportunity you had fought so hard for.

Jimin studied you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, before a faded smile tugged at his lips. There was something about the quiet determination in your expression that made him believe you could be different. It was why he had picked you. You weren’t just another candidate with a polished resume—you were someone who needed this job as much as you needed to breathe. He was tired of watching secretaries leave after a few days, scared off by Jungkook’s impossible standards and cold demeanour.

Jimin hesitated at the door, one hand resting on the handle as he turned back to you with a look of quiet urgency. “Oh, and one more thing,” he added, his voice dropping slightly. “Jungkook likes his coffee black, no sugar. It’s 6:55 now, and he’ll be here in exactly five minutes. He’s never late, and he despises laziness. It’s going to be tough, but if you put in the effort, you might just be the one to stick around longer than a week. Please, just don’t quit on me—I’m tired of interviewing new secretaries every other day,” he said, a trace of exhaustion seeping into his voice.

His almost pleading tone caught you off guard, your eyes widening as you registered the sincerity in his words. You managed a small, determined smile, masking the anxiety swirling inside you. “I won’t,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to Jimin. Your resolve tightened, and you straightened your back, readying yourself for whatever awaited you in the next five minutes.

With that, he left, the door closing behind him with a soft click. You stood there, your thoughts scrambling to catch up with everything he’d just said. Every other day? The chill that ran down your spine was sharp and unsettling, but you pushed it aside—there was no time to dwell on it. First impressions mattered, and you needed to nail this one.

Coffee. You clutched onto that thought like a lifeline. Jungkook needed coffee. But the moment you stepped out of his office, your stomach twisted with a sinking realization. Where was the coffee machine? Your eyes darted around the floor, scanning the sleek black surfaces and cold glass walls. The space was immaculate—too perfect—devoid of anything useful like a kitchen or even a break area.

A knot of panic coiled in your chest as you paced back and forth, your heels clicking sharply against the polished marble. The sound echoed in the empty hallway, a constant reminder of how out of place you felt. Your breaths grew shallow, your mind racing in circles. Think, think! But there was nothing—no vending machine, no kitchen, not even a discarded coffee cup to hint at where you should go.

Just when you were on the verge of rushing back to Jimin for help, the elevator dinged, its doors sliding open smoothly. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. A man stepped out, his presence instantly shifting the air in the room. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, the fit tailored to perfection. But it wasn’t just his clothes—it was the way he carried himself, a quiet authority that radiated from him like a dark cloud.

His eyes found yours instantly, locking onto you like a predator locking onto prey. For a heartbeat, everything stilled. The tension in the room was almost tangible, thickening the air between you. Your heart skipped, your breath coming out shaky as you fought the urge to look away. But those eyes—dark and intense—kept you pinned in place, searching you, dissecting you as if he could see every anxious thought swirling in your head.

He moved toward you with purpose, each step slow and deliberate. Your pulse quickened, your mouth going dry as he closed the distance. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as if that would somehow steady your racing heart. His gaze never wavered, slicing through your composure with a razor’s edge.

Just as he was about to pass you, he halted, his eyes narrowing slightly. It was subtle, but the way he tilted his head, how his gaze raked over you, made your skin prickle with a mix of fear and something else—something you weren’t ready to admit to.

He leaned in just the slightest, his presence overwhelming in its intensity. The way he looked at you was like a challenge, a silent test you didn’t even know you were taking. Your breath hitched, the space between you crackling with tension, thick and electric. You couldn’t tell if it was his piercing gaze, the way his jaw tightened with restrained power, or the way his lips barely twitched into something close to a smirk.

His eyes flicked down to your lips before snapping back up to meet your gaze. The way he did it wasn’t casual—it was deliberate, like he wanted you to know he noticed your nerves, that he enjoyed watching you squirm.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, caught in the pull of his magnetic presence. He stared at you a moment longer, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

Who the hell is he? And why did you feel like you were already in way over your head?

Your stomach plummeted as realization struck like a cold slap to the face. Jeon Jungkook. The CEO. The man you were now working for. It felt like the floor had been yanked out from under you. Your eyes widened, pupils blown as panic clawed at your chest, heartbeat thudding in your ears. Why is he staring at you like that?

Jungkook’s expression shifted, his eyes widening in a flash of surprise before narrowing, a mix of curiosity and something darker flickering across his features. His jaw tightened, and his gaze roved over you as if trying to piece together a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. Your throat went dry, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth as you stood frozen, every nerve screaming at you to do something—anything—but you couldn’t move. You were caught under his intense scrutiny like prey trapped in a hunter’s sight.

What did you I wrong? Your mind spiralled, grasping for answers. I didn’t greet him properly—I didn’t bring his coffee— The panic welled up inside you, pushing you to bow hastily, words spilling out in a rush. “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon! I didn’t mean to be rude. I was trying to get your coffee, but I couldn’t find the machine…”

But your apology seemed to bounce right off him, completely ignored. His eyes remained locked on you, unreadable, probing deeper as if searching for something hidden beneath the surface. Your pulse raced, breath catching in your throat as he took a deliberate step closer. The air between you thickened with tension, electric and suffocating. Instinctively, you took a step back, your heartbeat hammering in your chest.

Suddenly, your back hit the wall, cool and unyielding against your skin. Jungkook was now mere inches away, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. His eyes bore into yours, dark and unrelenting, pulling you under a spell you couldn’t break free from. You tried to speak, to regain some control, but your voice stuttered weakly. “W-What are you doing?”

Jungkook didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear as he demanded, voice rough and edged with impatience, “Who the hell are you?”

Your mind went blank, every coherent thought wiped out by the shock of his question. You gaped at him, lips parted but no words coming out. Your confusion only seemed to frustrate him further. His brows furrowed, tension rippling through his features as he raised his hand in front of your face, his tone sharp and urgent. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

You blinked, struggling to focus through the whirlwind of emotions tangling inside you. “F-Four?” you stammered, uncertainty lacing your voice.

“Damn it, think!” he growled, eyes flashing with irritation.

“I am thinking!” you snapped back, your own frustration flaring in response. What the hell does he take me for? The thought only fueled your rising anger. Just as you were about to bite out a retort, the elevator chimed, and the tension between you shattered.

Jimin burst onto the scene, his eyes widening in disbelief as he took in the sight of Jungkook practically looming over you, his expression dark and intimidating. In an instant, Jimin rushed over, grabbing Jungkook’s arm and pulling him back, breaking the magnetic pull that had kept you glued in place. “Jungkook, what the hell are you doing?” Jimin hissed, shooting you a quick, apologetic glance.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Jimin said hurriedly, his voice tight with concern. “Please, just get ready for the meeting. We’ll handle everything here.”

Still reeling, you nodded stiffly, your face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and fury. You turned on your heel, grateful for the excuse to leave, but rage simmered beneath your skin, heating your blood as you marched away. No longer scared—just pissed. You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you forced yourself to focus on your task. You weren’t going to let this shake you. You had work to do, and nothing—not even him—was going to distract you.

Meanwhile, Jimin dragged Jungkook into his office, shoving him toward the desk. “What the hell were you thinking, cornering her like that?” Jimin’s voice was low and furious, eyes narrowed as he glared at Jungkook, who quietly sank into his chair, still distracted.

Jungkook barely registered the scolding, his mind replaying the encounter on a loop. Why couldn’t I hear her thoughts? Why is she different? What is wrong with her? The confusion gnawed at him, blending with an inexplicable pull toward you that he couldn’t shake. Jimin’s words faded into the background as Jungkook’s thoughts remained fixated—on you, on that moment, on the way you looked at him with those wide, defiant eyes.

Jungkook flinched at Jimin’s sharp tone, his jaw tightening. His gaze drifted, staring blankly at the wall as if searching for answers. “I couldn’t hear her thoughts,” he finally murmured, almost like he was confessing a crime, disbelief heavy in his voice.

Jimin’s brow furrowed. “What? That can’t be right. Are you sure? Maybe she just wasn’t thinking anything important.”

Jungkook snapped his eyes to Jimin, his stare cutting. “Do you hear yourself? I can hear your thoughts before you even say them. But with her… it’s like she’s a ghost. A complete void.” His voice was laced with frustration, every word feeling heavy, like they were something he couldn’t quite swallow down.

Silence stretched between them, thick with tension and disbelief. Jimin’s mouth parted slightly, searching for a response, but he was just as lost for words. The air crackled with something unspoken, both of them grappling with the strange reality Jungkook had just revealed.

Before they could delve deeper into the unsettling truth, a soft knock shattered the charged quiet.

“Come in!” Jungkook barked, his voice a rough command. He leaned back in his chair, fists clenched on the armrests, fighting the urge to pace.

The door creaked open, and you stepped in, your expression composed but your eyes sparking with quiet defiance. In your hands, you held a steaming cup of coffee, the rich aroma wafting through the room. Your movements were deliberate as you approached his desk, every step measured like you were consciously holding yourself together.

“Here’s your coffee, Mr. Jeon,” you said, your voice level, but the slight edge in your tone didn’t go unnoticed. You didn’t bow this time. You simply placed the cup down with a subtle firmness that spoke volumes. “Sorry for the delay. It won’t happen again.”

Jungkook didn’t move a muscle. His gaze zeroed in on you, dark and probing, as if he could pull the answers he wanted from you without needing words. You felt the heat of that stare crawling over your skin like a touch, but instead of shrinking away, you stood taller, meeting his eyes with a quiet fire. Your heartbeat drummed in your ears, but you refused to let it show.

The silence between you and Jungkook was suffocating. Jungkook’s eyes trailed over your face, searching, assessing, his expression unreadable. A muscle ticked in his jaw, but still, he said nothing. There was something about you that gnawed at him—a puzzle he couldn’t solve, and it infuriated him.

Sensing the escalating tension, Jimin quickly stepped in, his tone light but carrying a subtle urgency. “Thank you, Y/N. The meeting with Kim Enterprises is about to start. Could you arrange everything?”

Your eyes flicked briefly to Jimin before locking back onto Jungkook’s, daring him to say something. But when nothing came, you gave a curt nod, turned on your heel, and walked out with a sharp, assertive grace. You didn’t miss the way Jungkook’s gaze followed your every move, almost like he was trying to burn the image of your retreating figure into his mind. Your hands balled into fists at your sides as you left, your determination steeling. If he thought he could rattle you, he was dead wrong.

The door clicked shut, and Jimin exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as he turned to Jungkook, frustration evident in the furrow of his brow. “You were—” he started, but Jungkook cut him off, sarcasm dripping from his voice like venom.

“Oh, was I staring?” Jungkook sneered, leaning forward with a mocking smirk. “My bad. I meant to be glaring.” His eyes gleamed with something wild, as if he was teetering between fascination and fury. He leaned back again, fingers drumming restlessly on the desk. “You don’t get it, Jimin. It’s not just curiosity. For the first time, there’s someone in front of me, and I can’t read a damn thing she’s thinking. It’s like standing in front of a locked door with no key. And it’s driving me insane.”

Jimin shook his head, clearly exasperated, but he softened his tone, trying to get through to him. “You need to let it go for now. We’ve got bigger things to handle—like the meeting. Taehyung’s probably waiting.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened, his smirk fading as he mulled over Jimin’s words. But he couldn’t shake the gnawing curiosity, the pull of that mysterious void you seemed to embody. He was drawn to you in a way that unsettled him, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

Jungkook had never been comfortable around people, preferring solitude above all—except for Jimin. Jimin was the one constant in his life, the only person whose presence Jungkook truly cherished. Losing his parents at a young age had left a void in his life that Jimin had filled. Jimin’s father had taken Jungkook in, raising him alongside his own son, providing a semblance of stability amid the chaos.

The memory of the car crash that killed his parents was a blur—just a shattered image of their last moments. Jungkook had been in the car, too, but somehow, he had survived, pulled from the wreckage by Mr. Park. The trauma was too much for his young mind, and he had lost all memory of the accident. The details were locked away, buried deep where he had no desire to unearth them. Jimin had been his refuge, his silent comfort in a world that had turned upside down.

Jungkook vividly remembered the terror-stricken night at the hospital. He had huddled in a corner, clutching a pair of scissors he had picked up from a nurse's cart, not really knowing how dangerous it was. His small body shook with sobs, tears streaming down his cheeks as he screamed for his parents. The doctors hovered around him, their faces grim with worry. The panic in their thoughts—He’ll hurt himself, His father died saving him—only intensified his fear. He was too young to grasp the finality of death but was forced to confront it.

The doctors, overwhelmed and frustrated, began to discuss their options. Jungkook could hear their unspoken worries and anxieties. They thought he might hurt himself with the scissors, and their growing desperation led them to consider sending him to a mental health facility. The idea of being sent away intensified Jungkook’s fear, and his sobs grew more frantic. He felt as though he might vomit from the panic swirling inside him.

Mr. Park, standing by the door, was visibly shaken and began to cry, his face a portrait of helplessness. The doctors, seeing that Jungkook was not calming down and fearing for his safety, began to back off. They whispered about the possibility of a mental health facility, and their thoughts made Jungkook’s cries even more desperate. The overwhelming fear and the impending idea of separation drove him to clutch the scissors tighter, his small frame trembling uncontrollably.

Jimin, observing his father’s emotional breakdown, felt a pang of empathy for Jungkook. Despite his own recent loss, he couldn’t bear to see Jungkook suffering alone. As his father prepared to leave with him, Jimin’s heart ached with a sense of duty and compassion. He sprinted toward Jungkook, his small feet making soft, hurried thuds against the floor. His face was a mixture of determination and worry, driven by a need to offer comfort.

When Jimin reached Jungkook, they both stared at each other, fear and confusion written across their faces. Jimin’s hands were trembling as he cautiously crouched in front of Jungkook. His eyes darted nervously between Jungkook’s terrified face and the dangerous scissors.

Jimin, his hands shaking, finally managed to reach for the scissors, his movements hesitant and painfully slow. The fear in his eyes was evident as he finally managed to grip the scissors tightly. With a quick, nervous motion, he snatched the scissors away from Jungkook. The moment he successfully took the scissors, his fear transformed into a small, relieved smile.

Jimin’s smile was small but genuine. He held out the plushie he had brought, his hands still trembling slightly. The simple gesture was meant to comfort. Jimin’s face was a mixture of fear and hope, as if he was unsure but determined.

Jungkook’s wide, tear-streaked eyes locked onto Jimin, his fear evident in every quiver of his lower lip. Jimin, sitting down beside him, gently wiped Jungkook’s nose with a tissue, his touch tender and careful. “Na-um,” Jimin said softly, "you have running rose" though he winced at his own mistake. He meant to say “nose,” but the word came out wrong.

Jungkook blinked, his confusion evident. “Rose?” he asked through his sobs, trying to make sense of the word. Jimin smiled, his eyes crinkling with warmth. “No, no,” he corrected, wiping away Jungkook’s tears. “It’s nose.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed as he processed the correction, his small frame still shivering with distress. Jimin extended the plushie, his smile never faltering, and Jungkook took it, clutching it tightly to his chest. Jimin continued to wipe away the tears, his touch soothing and reassuring. “I want dada,” Jungkook whimpered, his voice cracking with the weight of his grief.

Jimin looked at him with a mixture of sadness and resolve. “Your dada and moma went to meet God,” he said softly, his own voice thick with emotion. “But don’t cry, my mama is there too. She’ll take care of them. You can come with me.” His arms enveloped Jungkook in a tight, comforting hug. “Dada and I will love you too,” he promised, his voice gentle yet firm.

Jungkook buried his face in Jimin’s shoulder, his sobs muffled against the older boy’s warmth. The comfort of Jimin’s embrace was a balm to his wounded heart, even as the pain of loss clung to him.

Jungkook snapped back to the present, his thoughts interrupted by Jimin’s voice. “What are you thinking?” Jimin asked, his gaze steady and inquisitive, eyebrows raised in concern. Jungkook met his eyes, the depth of his past mingling with the present moment, a silent testament to their unspoken bond.

Jungkook shook his head, trying to clear away the haunting memories of his past. His fingers raked through his hair, and he rubbed his face roughly, a frustrated groan escaping him. “How many people are going to be there? You know I can’t stand crowds,” he muttered, his voice tight with irritation.

Jimin forced a small, reassuring smile, though he knew it wouldn’t do much good. “Not many. Just a few key people.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, the annoyance evident in the clench of his jaw. “A few is already too many. My head’s already pounding,” he snapped, his fists clenching at his sides, his knuckles turning white as he braced himself for the chaos ahead.

Jimin nodded, choosing not to press the issue further. They exited Jungkook’s office and entered the elevator. As the doors slid shut, Jungkook’s fingers hovered over the button before he pressed it with a reluctant, almost resentful force. His jaw was set in a tight line, his gaze unfocused as he mentally prepared for the storm he was about to face. The constant hum of thoughts from others—their fears, their doubts, their deceit—always hit him like a relentless hammer.

When the elevator finally dinged open, they stepped out and headed down the corridor toward the conference room. Jungkook’s pace slowed, and his eyes narrowed with growing discomfort as he glimpsed the crowd inside. He froze in his tracks, his expression darkening as he took in the scene.

Jimin noticed the shift and turned, his eyes widening in alarm as he saw the room packed with over ten people, all engaged in animated discussions, flipping through files, and shuffling papers. He swallowed hard, bracing for the outburst he knew was coming. Jungkook was not just angry; he was seething.

Jungkook’s pulse throbbed violently in his temples, the noise in his head growing louder and more chaotic with each passing second. Why the hell are there so many people? His vision blurred with a red-hot rage, the voices in his head swirling like a storm. Thoughts of greed, nervousness, and the pointless chatter of those who didn’t belong in that room assaulted him. It felt like a thousand nails being driven into his skull.

He clenched his fists tighter, his nails biting into his palms as he glared at the chaotic scene before him. His shoulders tensed, his breath coming in short, angry bursts. Jungkook’s eyes were hard, his face a mask of barely restrained fury. Ever since childhood, his ability to hear thoughts had been a curse, leaving him drowning in the relentless cacophony of other people’s minds. It bred paranoia and distrust, deepening his isolation with each passing year. In business, it was a weapon that cut through deception. But in moments like this, it was pure, unrelenting torture.

Jungkook had always maintained strict rules—rules designed to keep the chaos at bay and ensure he never felt overwhelmed. These weren’t just for his comfort; they were integral to the company’s policies. Everyone knew the consequences of ignoring them.

Now, every one of those employees was breaking the most critical rule. And you—you were responsible for this. It was your job to ensure everything was in order. This wasn’t just a lapse in competency; it was a violation of the very structure he had meticulously built to shield himself.

Inside the conference room, one of the employees glanced up and spotted Jungkook standing just outside the glass door. The color drained from his face as the gravity of their mistake hit him like a freight train. His eyes darted around the room, and panic spread like wildfire. Heads turned, and whispers flared as the realization of the impending disaster set in.

Jungkook’s eyes were a smoldering fire as he fixed his gaze on you, seated at the head of the table, engrossed in the files before you. You were blissfully unaware of the storm brewing outside. You’re about to learn the hard way, Jungkook thought darkly, his anger mingling with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

Beside him, Jimin’s shoulders tensed, bracing for the inevitable explosion. He knew Jungkook’s temper, fueled by his ability, could be a force of nature when pushed to the edge. Jimin could only hope that you wouldn’t face the full brunt of Jungkook’s fury and end up quitting—or worse, being fired on your very first day.

Jungkook’s gaze swept over the employees, each one scrambling to hide their files or avert their eyes, but it was too late. The damage was done. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, flicked to Jimin. The silent exchange between them crackled with tension—Jungkook’s fury was palpable, simmering beneath the surface like a volcano ready to erupt. Jimin, acutely aware of how Jungkook could hear every thought forming in his mind, swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the situation. Though he wasn’t frightened for himself, he was deeply concerned for you.

Before Jimin could piece together a proper defense, Jungkook’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “It’s our company policy. We went over this before hiring employees. Didn’t you tell her?” His tone was frigid, emphasizing that no more than four people were to be present in a room when he was there, especially for business meetings. The more people, the harder it was for him to think and focus.

Jimin’s heart pounded as he tried to formulate a response, but he knew Jungkook had already heard the scramble in his thoughts. Despite that, he forced himself to speak, his voice trembling. “I did. It was the first thing we discussed. I-I don’t know why—”

Jungkook didn’t wait for more. His anger radiated off him in waves as he spun on his heel, the force of his movement causing his coat to flare dramatically. He stormed toward the conference room, his steps heavy and deliberate, each one a sign of the tempest brewing inside him. Jimin stood rooted to the spot. He knew what was about to break loose.

Jungkook yanked the door open with a force that made everyone inside flinch, the loud crash of metal against the frame echoing through the room. The atmosphere shifted instantly—from anxious to petrified. Fear rippled through the group like a cold, biting wind, sending shivers down their spines. The employees sat frozen, their bodies rigid as they instinctively shrank back in their chairs, eyes wide and filled with terror.

You, who had been engrossed in your document, sensed the sudden silence and glanced up. Your confusion deepened as you took in the sight of your colleagues’ horrified faces. Your gaze settled on Jungkook, who stood at the door, his presence radiating a raw, menacing energy. Your heart pounded in your chest, a cold knot of unease tightening as you realized something had gone terribly wrong.

Before you could fully comprehend the situation, Jungkook’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “Everyone out. Now.”

His command was like a whip cracking through the room, the harshness of his tone making you flinch involuntarily. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you barely managed to suppress the yelp that threatened to escape. Around you, the cacophony of chairs scraping against the floor filled the room as employees scrambled to their feet. They moved with frantic, jerky motions, their faces pale and their eyes darting nervously as they rushed toward the door like animals fleeing from a predator.

Your pulse raced as you followed the surge of panicked workers, your own fear pushing you toward the exit. You stumbled slightly as you tried to keep pace with the chaotic stampede, your hands gripping the edge of the table for support. Your face was a mask of anxious determination, your eyes scanning the room one last time before you joined the flood of people spilling into the corridor. Each step felt like a race against your mounting anxiety as you hurried to get out of Jungkook’s way.

But just as you were about to slip past him, a hand shot out, clamping down on your arm with an iron grip. Jungkook yanked you back, his hold unyielding, and the force sent you stumbling. You barely regained your balance, your breath hitching as shock flickered across your face. It was only for a split second before you masked it, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was low, dangerous—a quiet menace that slithered down your spine like ice.

Didn’t he just dismiss everyone? Your brow furrowed, confusion and wariness mingling in your eyes as you looked up at him. But your silence only stoked the fire in his gaze. It infuriated him that he couldn’t read you like he did everyone else. He’d always resented the noise in his head from other people’s thoughts, but now, faced with your unnerving quietness, he almost wished he could hear you. The not knowing clawed at his insides, tightening his jaw as he stepped closer.

The distance between you evaporated, replaced by the electric tension crackling in the air. You found yourself pressed back against the cool glass, caged between it and his broad frame. His presence was suffocating, a potent mix of power and danger that made it impossible to think straight. Your breath quickened, your chest rising and falling as you felt the heat of him, the scent of his cologne mixing with the underlying sharpness of his irritation.

But even as fear coiled in your belly, there was a flash of stubborn defiance in your eyes. You straightened your back, refusing to shrink under his scrutiny. You might be cornered, but you weren’t about to cower.

Jungkook’s lips curved into a smirk, dark and taunting, his gaze holding yours captive. “You really have no idea what you’ve done, do you?” The words slipped out in a smooth, taunting drawl, each one cutting deeper than the last. His eyes searched your face, hunting for a crack in your composure, a hint of the emotions swirling beneath your surface. But all he got was the same maddening blankness, a mystery he couldn’t unravel.

Your pulse raced in your throat, so loud you were sure he could hear it. The steady hum of the air conditioning felt like the only anchor in a room that was spinning out of control. His eyes stayed locked on yours, dark and unreadable, while yours darted briefly to the door—your only escape. But the moment you did, his hand slid to the side of your face, forcing your gaze back to his. The touch wasn’t rough, but it was possessive, a silent command not to even think about leaving.

“Mr. Jeon, I don’t understand…” you murmured, trying to sound steady, but the tremor in your voice gave you away. Your cheeks burned, the embarrassment only adding to the tension coiling tighter between you.

“Oh, you don’t understand?” he mocked, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in, crowding your space even more. His breath brushed against your cheek, warm and laced with an edge that sent goosebumps rippling down your arms. He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as his smirk deepened. “Then let’s simplify it. Did you miss the part about company policies, or are you just too stubborn to follow the rules?” The disdain in his voice was thick, each word slow and deliberate, pushing you closer to the edge.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you fought to maintain some semblance of control. You knew you were trembling, and it infuriated you that he could see it—that he was enjoying it. But you couldn’t back down, not when every nerve in your body was screaming to run. Your heart pounded in your chest, both from fear and from something else—something dangerous that curled in the pit of your stomach, making you feel both cornered and alive in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

Jungkook’s patience snapped like a fraying thread. His eyes darkened, and before you could react, he slammed his hand against the glass next to your head with a crack that made you flinch. Your breath caught in your throat, heart hammering as his looming presence boxed you in. “Still don’t get it?” he growled, each word dripping with disdain. “N-O M-O-R-E T-H-A-N F-O-U-R. How hard is that to grasp?” He dragged out each letter slowly, his tone condescending as if scolding a child.

Your stomach twisted with dread as realization hit—you’d seriously messed up. Your voice felt trapped in your throat, your mind scrambling for an explanation that might save you. “I thought it was okay since it was an important meeting,” you stammered, hoping to justify your actions. But the second the words left your mouth, you knew you’d made it worse. Jungkook’s eyes blazed, his jaw clenching so tightly that you could see the tension in his neck.

Before he could lash out again, Jimin quickly stepped in, grabbing Jungkook’s arm. “Jungkook, calm down,” he urged, his voice tinged with concern. He knew the drill—Jungkook’s temper had already chased off three secretaries this month alone. You were barely hanging on by a thread, and it was only your first day.

Jungkook roughly shrugged Jimin off, his gaze snapping back to you with a dangerous intensity that made your skin prickle. He leaned in so close you could feel the heat of his breath, his words laced with venom. “Thought?” he sneered. “That’s generous. Clearly, thinking isn’t your strong suit.”

The insult hit like a slap, stoking a fire deep within you. You were scared, yes, but also furious. Your fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you glared up at him, refusing to back down. “You don’t have to be so rude. I was just trying to do my job!” you shot back, your voice trembling with both anger and fear.

Jungkook’s lips curled into a smirk, but there was nothing warm about it—it was pure mockery. “Oh, you’re doing a fantastic job—if your goal was to completely ignore the rules and make my life a living hell.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, every word cutting deeper.

“I didn’t ignore the rules! I just didn’t think it was that big of a deal!” Your voice grew louder as frustration took over. You were tired of being belittled, tired of him acting like you were some incompetent fool.

“Not a big deal?” Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, his expression turning ice-cold. He stepped closer, his towering figure casting a shadow over you. “You have no idea the chaos you’ve caused. Maybe you should go back to whatever hole you crawled out from.”

His cruel words hit like a punch to the gut, but you forced yourself to hold your ground. You lifted your chin slightly, meeting his gaze with a defiance that you weren’t sure you could sustain. But despite your best efforts, your voice wavered as you said, “That’s uncalled for! I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to insult me!”

Jungkook’s eyes glinted with a predatory edge as he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting against your skin. “Insult you? I’m just stating facts. If you can’t handle the truth, maybe this isn’t the place for you.” His voice was a low, dangerous whisper, each word pressing down on you like a weight.

The air between you was thick with tension, both of you staring each other down as if waiting for the other to break. Your pulse raced, your chest tightening with fear as you realized how serious he was. You were teetering on the edge of losing everything you’d worked for.

The weight of his words crushed your confidence. You froze, your face paling as the realization set in—was he going to fire you? Panic clawed at your chest. You needed this job. You had worked so hard to get here; you couldn’t lose it on your first day.

“Please, Mr. Jeon. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break the rules. It won’t happen again,” you pleaded, your voice trembling as you fought back tears.

Jungkook didn’t even look at you as he sat down, his posture commanding the room. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. You’re a liability. I could fire you right now and make sure you never work in this industry again. You’d be left with nothing.” His tone was indifferent, as if he were talking about the weather.

You glanced desperately at Jimin, who was already stepping in again, his tone firmer this time. “Jungkook, it’s her first day. She deserves a chance to learn from this.”

Jungkook’s gaze didn’t waver as he shot back coldly, “I don’t give second chances, Jimin.” He turned away, heading toward the conference table like he was done with the conversation. Your heart plummeted. You were losing your job. Panic clawed at your chest, and tears stung at your eyes as you fought to keep your composure.

“Am I fired?” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. Your hands trembled as you struggled to keep the tears at bay. “Please, I—I need this job.”

Jimin shot you a sympathetic look before turning back to Jungkook, his expression pleading. “Jungkook, she deserves a chance.”

But Jungkook’s gaze remained cold and unyielding. You felt yourself crumble under the weight of his indifference, desperation clawing at your chest as you stood frozen, waiting for his final verdict.

He walked over to the conference table, his presence dominating the room as he sat down in his designated chair. You remained standing nearby, your tear-filled eyes desperately seeking Jimin for some sign of comfort or reassurance. You blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over, but your gaze remained locked on Jimin, silently pleading.

Before Jimin could say anything, the door swung open with a soft whoosh, drawing everyone’s attention. Kim Taehyung, the charismatic CEO of Kim Enterprises, strode in, flanked by directors Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon. Their entrance was like a burst of fresh air after a storm. They greeted Jimin with warm hugs and hearty laughs, their easy camaraderie bringing a stark contrast to the charged atmosphere.

“We’ll discuss this later. Right now, let’s get to the meeting,” Jimin muttered hastily, his tone strained as he guided you back to your seat. Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you fumbled with your notebook, your fingers almost too unsteady to hold the pen. The cold sweat on your palms made the notebook feel slick and foreign.

The meeting began, and the room buzzed with business talk. Taehyung’s easy charm filled the space, his smile warm and engaging as he discussed strategies and future projects. His gestures were animated—hands slicing through the air, a thoughtful tilt of his head as he spoke. Seokjin and Namjoon chimed in, their voices confident as they shared insights on market trends and potential expansions. Their ease was a stark contrast to the oppressive silence that lingered around Jungkook.

You tried to focus on taking notes, but your concentration was shattered by the weight of the earlier confrontation. Your gaze repeatedly flicked to Jungkook, who sat rigidly at the head of the table. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes, though directed at the documents in front of him, held a simmering intensity. The muscle in his cheek twitched occasionally, betraying his frustration. The tension in his posture was palpable; even the slightest shift seemed to radiate hostility.

Each time Jungkook shifted in his seat or cleared his throat, your heart skipped a beat. The fear coiled tighter around your chest with every passing minute. Your thoughts were a chaotic swirl of anxiety, replaying the confrontation in a loop. The uncertainty gnawed at your insides, a relentless reminder of how precarious your situation was.

As Taehyung continued to speak with infectious enthusiasm, you struggled to keep your focus on the meeting. Your eyes betrayed your fear, darting nervously between your notebook and Jungkook, who remained an imposing, silent presence. The contrast between Taehyung’s relaxed demeanour and Jungkook’s brooding silence only heightened your sense of dread.

The fear of losing your job, the very job you’d fought so hard to get, was like a shadow hanging over you. The room's buzzing conversations faded into a distant hum as you tried to hold onto a shred of composure, your thoughts a tumultuous storm of anxiety. The possibility of being fired on your first day loomed like a dark cloud, overshadowing every attempt to engage with the meeting.

Was it really possible to lose everything you’d worked for on your very first day?

a/n: Let me know what you think in any way you like—comments, messages, carrier pigeons, whatever! I'd love to hear! If you want to be tagged for future chapters, just send me an ask.

And drabble requests and character asks are open!

Taglist: @lola75111 @pitchblack0309 @whoa-jo

[wangxianficrecs]

CEO Billionaire Lan Zhan by detention_notes

CEO Billionaire Lan Zhan

by detention_notes (@detention--notes)

T, 2k, Wangxian

Summary: Oh, Wei Ying. Would he ever notice a humble billionaire such as Lan Zhan? Wei Ying, with his Costco T-shirts...his lilting smile...his sexy, sexy financial ineptitude... Lan Zhan burst away from the window and then ripped apart his bed canopy with his bare hands. After the destruction was complete he shivered and called his bank. “500k. Wei Ying. Wire transfer,” he said lowly into the phone. The teller asked for his name. “Anonymous,” he growled. He bit his arm with passion. Kay's comments: In hours of sadness and despair, CEO Billionare Lan Wangji comes to me and cheers me up. This story is a parody on the whole rich Lan Zhan in modern settings genre and it's absolutely wonderful. Never fails to make me laugh. Also, make sure to check out the author's accompanying Art! Excerpt: The man at the cafe counter paused mid-sentence and stared. He wore a red shirt with flame decals on the sleeve, a black apron, and a black baseball cap. Under the brim peeked delightfully jaunty bangs. And under those bangs, a large pair of glimmering gray orbs bored sorely into Lan Zhan’s core. “...May I help you?” Lan Zhan asked from his place in the queue after a beat of sensual silence. “Wh— oh! That’s supposed to be my line,” giggled the coffee man, ignoring the rest of the customers. He lowered his eyelashes in a sultry fashion. “Everybody calls me Wei Wuxian, even though courtesy names have not been customary since the early 20th century. But you can call me Wei Ying,” he said with a broad wink. “How may I help you?” he growled. Lan Zhan froze. People never talked to him this way, so...flirtatiously!

pov lan wangji, modern setting, modern no powers, rich lan wangji, crack, humor, rabbits, pining, mutual pining, getting together, developing relationship, flashbacks, wealth

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[butmakeitgayblog]

One of my favourite AUs that I'll probably write is Clexa Avengers au! It would definitely be with Iron Woman!Lexa, a genius billionaire playgirl philanthropist, with her can-&-will-kill-you-in-heels CEO wife Clarke. Lexa also has her spider-child protege Aden Parker, and Gustus as her loyal and grumpy bodyguard. Lincoln would be War Machine. Idk about the other Avengers. what do you think? I think Anya should definitely be Black Widow, at least.

Please do not take this even remotely as me naysaying anything about your idea or anything of the sort because I'm not and I'm absolutely certain that there's an eager audience for it! But the truth is that I'm just not the person to really give a decent opinion on this idea simply because I am so not at all a superhero/marvel person 😕 The only superhero thing I've really seen besides the old batman movies from my childhood with Uma Thurman and Michelle Pfeifer is the original Spiderman with Toby Maguire a million years ago. Like I'm that useless in this genre. Idek why Ironman is like... famous. Or powerful. Like idk what he does 😅 I know he's got a suit thing? But is that— Is he just like... Marvels answer to batman? Idk idk and at this point I'm too afraid to ask