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sopejinsunflower · 2 years ago

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a/n: ok so this started out with a completely different idea but when idk, somewhere along the way the plot kinda left the chat and it just screams horny horny brain is horny so yeah…but I had this idea ever since Arson came out lol I hope you guys enjoy it anyway. It has been sitting in my WIP since December and I honestly didn't do much editing or proofreading >.<

Title: Was actually originally called Devil May Care

Warning: 18+, violence implied, gun use, minor DNI

Summary: You are a very highly respectable business woman but your scene is less than…ideal. You need a new head of security but with a tight schedule, you have to hire someone with just the basic qualification. It’s all fine until you realise your new head of security is someone you’ve been masturbating to for most of your adult life. And to make things worse (or better), he knows you know.

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x you, Park Jimin

Tags: Employer-employee AU! Penetrative sex, masturbation implied, violence mentioned, slight Hoseok dom because no way I’m NOT putting that in.

Word count: 19k

You slam your bag onto the surface of your desk hard enough for the sound to jerk everyone upright, standing rigidly waiting for you to unleash your anger.

You raise your gaze, glaring daggers at the man standing across from you with his eyes downcast, hands clasped together in front of him. “Explain yourself,” you growl out in between gritted teeth.

He only purses his lips, unable to come up with anything. He fucked up, he knows, and as your head of security, he knows he’s about to get the axe. You don’t repeat yourself, knowing full well what happened and how it had happened but you just wanted him to admit it and he can’t even do that. Your instructions had been simple, and yet it had seemed to be a tall order for someone with twenty-five years under the belt as a security guard to high risk VIPs such as yourself; working in the diamond industry comes with its perks.

He had one job: protect you. When you are closing in on deals, most times the merchandise is already with you, hidden in secretly-sewn pockets to be retrieved once everything is signed and the payment method is handed over and checked. Payment method, because people don’t usually pay with cash, especially those black organisations that insist on meeting in dark dingy rooms or empty parking lots. And you can never trust them fully to not fuck you over during those meetings so his job was to make sure that there are no unpleasant surprises beforehand and if it does happen, get you out of there safely.

But here you are, standing in your office, half the guards smelling like gunsmokes, three of them currently being tended to by your private doctor for bullet wounds and there’s a thin, light scratch over your forehead and your shoulders are starting to ache from having to fire your own Glock while running. The situation had been far from safe and it all fell onto his shoulders. You check your reflection in the cabinet glass, huff and turn around. “Get the fuck out of my face. You’re fired.”

He gives you one last bow and walks out of the room, hands clenched in fists. You’re not an easy employer, even you know that, but you are fair and pay people five times the market rate, more than fair for the kind of environment they have to work in. But those high wages don’t come easy; you have strict criterias and requirements for both the roles and the responsibilities they carry. You’re not irrational but you have to maintain the highest vigilance not just for your sake, but for everyone involved. When you need job A to be done in a certain way, it must be followed to the T. Or things like this happen.

You heave a tired sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Without looking, you wave your hand to dismiss the other guards and plop yourself in your reclining leather chair, feeling a thousand pounds heavier than you did in the morning. To be completely honest, you had been having the same nagging feeling for a week now, leading to that meeting with the Ryuukai, the Dragon Organisation, but, then again, you always feel weird during the days prior to a black market deal. If only you’d listened more to your gut feeling, but hindsight is always fifty-fifty.

First thing’s first: you need a new head of security.

You rub at your face, sigh again, and call for your executive secretary. Park Jimin swishes in through the door not three seconds later and you look up in surprise. He’s holding a glass of water and an ibuprofen for the headache that’s starting up, his usual notebook clamped in his armpit. “How long were you waiting outside the door?” you ask, taking the glass and painkiller gratefully.

“Just right after Hank walked out,” he answers airily, sitting down in one of the velvet chairs across from you, crossing his legs and taking out his pen and notebook.

Jimin is in a three-piece suit but without the jacket and his sleeves rolled up. Honestly, he dresses like a boss himself instead of a secretary but working with you means he’s technically in charge of the whole office. His nickname is God’s Messenger because when he delivers your orders or instructions, the others obey without a word. He’s more of a right-hand-man, too, by how much you rely on him when you’re not in.

You place the pill at the back of your tongue and take huge gulps of the water to swallow it, almost finishing the whole tall glass. You sigh, sitting back, eyes still closed. “Why does it seem like you’re the only one who knows to do your job well? It’s so hard to find reliable employees these days.”

Jimin preens in his chair, sitting up straighter. “Well, first, I don’t seem to do my job well, I do my job well. Second, stop sighing like an old woman. Third, I don’t have any response regarding reliable employees but I’m assuming we’ll need to hire a new one?”

You nod, sitting up and letting out another long, heavy sigh much to Jimin’s annoyance. “Do you think you can find someone in two weeks?”

“You’re getting more and more demanding,” he says nonchalantly, writing down something in his notebook. “Two weeks, got it. Shall I put ‘psychic’ as the requirement?” At the confused look from you, he adds, waving the pen around, “Oh, you know, so he’s able to tell if a situation could go bad. Like Hank couldn’t.”

Your face immediately turns sour. “A thorough investigation would have been enough to avoid that whole mess,” you hiss, clenching the edge of the desk. “I almost lost men out there!”

Jimin suppresses from rolling his eyes. “Right, right. So someone thorough, got it. Two weeks won’t be enough time to find someone of your high standards. Are you sure you don’t want to postpone that deal with the Sumiyoshi?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “This meeting has been scheduled for months now. I can’t mess this up. They’re already pissed about the last botched merch from last time. And I’m still pissed about that.”

Jimin scoffs in between his writing. “Don’t worry. The guy is still paying for his mistakes until today in some basement out there. You made sure of that. I don’t know if we can find quality and reliable candidates in this short time but I’ll dig around. No promises, though.”

“Update me again in a week,” you tell him as he’s leaving your office.

He pauses in the doorway, leaning back to look at you. A genuine look of concern is clear on his face. “Go home and rest. You look like shit. I’ll handle things here.”

You give him an appreciative smile and pack up your things, wanting nothing more than a long warm bath and pulling your fluffy duvet over you so you can curl up and sleep in your empty king bed. You get home, get undressed and strut around naked in your apartment. You start to fill up the bath and while the water is going, you head for a glass of white wine in the kitchen, something to calm your nerves. It didn’t help much.

The bath beeps and you head to the bathroom, throw in your favourite bath bomb and watch it fizzle as you take a quick shower to rinse off; you hate the idea of sitting in your own filth. Then you step in and have about a fifteen-minute soak. The warm water helps soothe your aching muscles and your left hand, the one you use to shoot your gun, finally stops shaking. You add another bath bomb to the water but when you step out, you can still smell the gunpowder. You take a second shower and spend extra time rubbing your body with a loofah and washing your hair.

Satisfied that there’s no more smell, you pull on a comfortable satin slip, dry your hair and dive into bed. The thick, black-out curtains have been pulled shut and you’re hoping to take a nap but no matter how long you lie there, you keep blinking up at the ceiling, replaying today’s shitshow over and over again.

It’s not your first shoot-out, of course, but it doesn’t make it any less scary each time. The Ryuukai is known to be difficult but you’ve done deals with them in the past before and they have all gone smoothly enough. This time though, you learnt that there had been a shift in the organisation and there were new faces, even the middleman was someone you’ve never met before and not the person you talked to a month prior to setting up the meeting. Everything had felt fishy and shadier than usual and you wish you had followed your gut.

Your entourage had been ambushed. The Ryuukai had attempted to get their hands on the diamonds by force and your whole team had walked straight into a trap. When it was obvious they couldn’t find where the merchandise was, they chose violence. To be fair, Jimin was right; Hank couldn’t have known how that would turn out but there’s a reason one of his main responsibilities is to stake out and investigate every little detail ahead of the meeting. It’s to avoid things like this from happening because it has happened in the past. These measures aren’t put there for fun; they’re implemented so that every one of your men gets to go home to their families at the end of the day.

And three of them almost didn’t. Lawyers have been dispatched to deal with the families regarding the situation but you can’t help but feel it was avoidable. Hank had been with you for five years with no problems but lately his head has been out of the game. You’re not privy to his personal lives, literally not your concern, but the one thing you ask of your employees is that they don’t bring home matters to work. If Hank had been going through some tough shit outside of work, then he never communicated it. You’re not a monster; you would’ve taken him off of work without him losing his job or income if he had needed time to sort things out first.

You sigh and hear your secretary's voice in your ear about being an old woman. You roll your eyes to the ceiling. Your phone pings and you check the message.

Jimin: The families have signed the NDAs. It’s on your desk.

PING!

Jimin: Stop staring at the ceiling and sleep.

What the fuck?! Does he have a spy camera or something? You sit up in bed, paranoid, looking around the room.

PING!

Jimin: No, there’s no camera. I just know you too well (rolling eyes emoji)

You slap the phone face down on the bedside table after putting it on silent mode and pull the duvet back over your head. Nothing’s more frustrating than someone who is always right and knows it, too. One of these days you’ll find a nicer more submissive PA but you doubt it. He’s too damn good at his job for you to find any good reason to get rid of him.

BUZZ!

You groan out loud but grab the phone anyway.

Jimin: I had a food delivery schedule for around 7PM. I don’t think cooking will be on your to-do list today.

Too damn good, you think with a snort, putting away the phone for the last time because by hook or by crook, you’ll force that nap to come. Fifteen minutes later, after much tossing and turning, sleep still eludes you like a fish flitting through water. You’re still somehow high-strung, your brain refusing to forget today’s botched deal as it replays each scene for you to do a play-by-play; from the moment you notice the shiftiness of the Ryuukai’s men, the fact that you don’t recognise any of them, right down to the last moment of the shoot-out, you running, gunshots ringing in your ears until you’re safely in the car and Hank slammed the door behind you.

Then you remember something; your little emergency stash under the bed made especially for times like this. You crawl over to the edge, lean halfway off the bed and rummage around under there trying to pull out the little box. It feels a little childish to be hiding stuff in that old tin box, something you’ve had with you for a very long time, even now when you’re one of the most powerful figures of the underworld living in one of the luxurious penthouses in the middle of the city.

You pry open the lid and sift through the stuff in there. If anyone found that box, one would think it belongs to a teenage girl by the content: an old bookmark handmade from a laminated maple leaf, 16th and 21st birthday cards from old friends and families, a beaded bracelet, a few foreign coins, a few loose buttons, a few Polaroid photos faded with time. You ignore all the rest and pull out from the bottom an old and very well-used folded up poster. You put everything away and lay back on your pillow, carefully unfolding the piece of A3 paper.

Immediately you can feel the tension slip off of your shoulders at the sight of your favourite man in the world: Hoya, in all of his glorious nakedness besides the silver necklaces around his neck, the black masquerade mask that hides half of his face, and the little detective hat that he’s tipping over with that petulant smirk on his handsome face that screams, “Bet you wish you can have me, don’t you?”

Yes, yes I do, you think, this time with a wistful sigh, your eyes roaming his body, imagining you can put your hands all over those biceps and rock-hard abs and kiss that Celtic hope tattoo on his chest, suck on his fingers and suckle on his nipples before…your eyes move downwards, saving that view for last even if you’ve seen it a thousand times. It works every time like a charm.

You lie back onto your pillow, the poster in hand. This is from one of his earlier issues from a few years back and by far your favourite, thus why it’s stored in your mental emergency box. You know a few things about this man; his age (three years younger than you), his favourite food (Korean), his favourite alcohol (soju and he drinks it only once a week), his favourite book (Living, Loving, Learning), his favourite song (it changes every three months), what he wanted to be as a child, what he wants now as an adult, his preferred type of woman (demure, sweet and kind but loves it spicy in the bedroom), and his hobby.

You know his favourite position in bed, his kinks (D&M, bondage), his favourite subject in school (maths, surprisingly) and even the name of his first pet (Mickey). You know why he has that scar on his left eyebrow (at a judo tournament in high school when the opponent split his head but he won the competition anyway), the neighbourhood he grew up in and that he has an older sister who he’s close with. You know that he visits his parents every other weekend to have dinner with them because he prioritises family time. You know that he hates sleeping in the dark because of that one time a friend played a prank by locking him up in the closet and forgot about him, so he sleeps with a nightlight the shape of a crescent moon. You also know his birth zodiac but that he doesn’t believe in fate.

You know all this information about this man that graces the monthly adult magazine you subscribe to since university and yet you don’t know his real name nor what he actually looks like. All of his posters and photos were masked. Someone in your position could easily have attained his real name at least but you decide not to. The mystery of it all kind of enhances his charm, you think, but fuck, if only you could, at least once in your life, to be able to wrap your mouth around that perfect cock of his.

“You think you deserve this, baby?” the Hoya in your head asks as he looms over you, one hand leaning against the headboard above your head. He swings his hips close to your face, teasing you with his giant cock inches from your lips.

“Yesss,” you mewl back, batting your eyelashes prettily for him. “Please.”

“Please what, sugar?”

You writhe under your blanket, your fingers quickly finding the wet spot in between your legs, eyes closed as you imagine the scene. “Please, daddy. I want it.”

And in your fantasies, Hoya always does. He always satisfies you, prioritising your needs as he winds you up and up and up and letting you come crashing down on your highs. He teases and taunts you, worships you like the goddess that you are and you’d scream his name over and over again as he rams into you until you’re all spent and blissful and he’d love you up more softly this time, rocking you both gently until he comes. Those scenes were enough ammo for your fingers to work furiously underneath the thick duvet, arching your back against your pillow, murmuring words you pretend the adult model can hear until you come, toes curling and sighing out his stage name.

Then the guilt comes creeping in and you jump out of bed to clean yourself, chastising yourself that it’s just distasteful for someone like you to get so lost in your own head when your team was almost annihilated today. You bury yourself back in bed and this time, sleep comes much easier.

***

“So…about the new head of security…”

Jimin follows you into your office and watches you straighten out your desk before you finally look up at him. “I don’t think we’ll find anyone in two weeks. I’m serious about postponing it because at this rate we’ll-”

“No.” You cut him short, plopping down into your seat and powering on the iMac. “The meeting with the Sumiyoshi is too important, Jimin, you know this. I can’t risk losing another business because we are not dealing with the Ryuukais anymore after last night.”

Jimin clicks his fingers. “Oh, right! I’ve sent a team as you requested to their headquarters. You’ll hear about it at around…” he checks his watch casually, “noon, perhaps.”

You nod but the look on your face was clear to Jimin that you barely listened, clicking away on your computer, eyebrows furrowing. Jimin sighs. “Hey, look at me.”

You stop what you were doing and shift your gaze to him without turning your head. He scowls but says, “I’m serious about recruiting a head of security this willy-nilly. We’re talking about the head here, not some disposable goons. He’ll be responsible for your safety. You know, keeping you alive in situations similar to last night?”

You roll your eyes, throwing your head back. “Get to the point, Jimin.”

“I refuse to hire just anyone,” he says with a serious look on his face. “I won’t do it and risk you getting shot dead. It took us months to hire and train Hank and you want me to find someone to fill the role in two weeks? That’s not just crazy; that’s stupid.”

You grit your teeth, fingers flexing and unflexing. Anyone else who would speak to you like that would not still be standing as sturdily as Jimin is in that moment, holding his own almost like he’s the boss reprimanding you. But to your credit, you sit there in silence; one of Jimin’s many skills is to make you listen and you trust him enough to do so without protest.

“Fine, then,” you concede, although your tone of voice is still very forceful. “We’ll hire a temporary one, then, if that makes you feel better. Someone good enough for the meeting in two weeks. Someone who won’t need much training but has enough experience to handle something like that.”

“Something like what? A meeting between two underground groups to exchange illegal material for cases of cash?” Jimin writes something in his notebook, arching an eyebrow as he speaks. “Noted. I have doubts but I’ll keep my eyes peeled and in the meantime find someone long term.”

He gives you a condescending smirk and waltzes right out. Just as you thought you were finished dealing with him, he pops his head back in. “Gang things may not sound appealing. Shall I fish them with a higher salary?”

“Do whatever you need to, Jimin,” you reply impatiently, waving your hand at him. “Just go away.”

“Neatto,” he chimes, disappearing again.

Around noon, as Jimin predicted, the front page of most major online newspapers are covering the same story: “Mass murder, arson; the dragon has fallen”. Fancy news title to report on the demise of a mafia group but it is what it is. The shootout at the parking garage, however, wasn’t even mentioned anywhere. You don’t even bother reading the rest of it, clicking away to focus on other more important things, like the arrival of the goods for the Sumiyoshi next week. Customs a bitch to deal with but you have your strings to pull.

You don’t hear from Jimin the rest of the day and that’s fine. It means that work is progressing smoothly and your only hope is for him to find candidates for the open position. You consider rehiring Hank but that would bruise your ego so you squash the idea. For now. If the Ryuukais were bad, the Sumiyoshi would be even worse and a head of security would give the peace of mind you’d need and also a sort of deterrent as well for any fuckery they planned.

You can’t trust those men and the moment they think they see an opening, they’d take it. They can’t stand having to bow to a woman but you rule the diamond business in this part of the world and they have no other reasonable choices. You are known to be fair and trustworthy, an empire you took years to build, carving in your name after you took over from your grandfather. You’re more of a businesswoman than a gang leader but taking over the business meant you had to take over every aspect of it; the good, the bad and the shady illegal shit that you only discovered after signing the handover agreement.

You rub your eyes with your fingertips. You rarely feel sorry for yourself. Why should you? You live in a luxurious apartment that has 24-hour heavy security, you have a driver most times, your status gives you a free pass almost always, money is just a means of transaction that you’ve never hesitated to blow off if you needed to, and power over all the right people. Your business is as clean as you can keep it, you don’t have blood on your hands. Some deals are a little under the table, yes, but nowhere near the same category as the groups and gangs you deal with. You are, technically, legitimate. So why do you feel so shackled?

People your age are married with kids these days, happy as they lived their lives like any normal person would. See, you want kids. Someday. But your life doesn’t have any space for even a lover. They are a hindrance, a bargaining chip that can easily be used against you. And they’re rarely ever loyal, not when to die for love’ could be literal in your world. No one actually means it when they say it.

Then, like always when you think about the topic, Hoya’s face floats in front of your eyes; that cheeky glint in his eyes behind the mask, the parted lips with his tongue just slightly sticking out, enough for you to imagine things with it and the long, slender fingers that you’ve fantasise about doing more than just sticking them in your mouth. You shake your head to clear away the dirty thoughts creeping in. No, I’m at work! You slap your cheeks a few times and return back to the computer screen.

It’s not until the end of the week when Jimin informs you, with an unamused look on his face, that so far there were only three applicants and one of them is totally a reject because the guy is fresh out of college looking for a lucrative part time job before he leaves for Australia.

“So that leaves us with two,” Jimin is saying, the iPad completely hiding his face from where you sit. “I’ve talked to them both. One has a military background. A captain in Iraq. Came back and currently working as a mall night security guard. Has PTSD so can’t commit to a nine to five. Looks promising but he has teenage kids and a dead wife.”

“And the other one?”

Jimin shakes his head. “I don’t really like this one.”

“Why not?” You frown, curious.

Jimin sighs. “Well, for one, the only good thing going for him is that he has multiple martial arts skills - judo, taekwondo, karate. This guy needs a new hobby.”

“So what’s wrong about him? Those are useful in this industry,” you say, sitting back in your chair and swinging it from side to side.

“What’s wrong about him is that he’s in his mid-twenties but no full time job to account for,” Jimin answers as he scrolls through the man’s resume. “He graduated in economics, worked part time at a bar for a few months and then nothing. Said he does small freelance gigs here and there but won’t say what. I don’t like him.”

You laugh. “Pretty sure you can run a background check on him easily.”

“I know but it’s suspicious. I don’t like someone who I can’t read,” Jimin retorts. “I say go with the vet and then after the meeting we’ll reassess if we’d want to keep him. I’ll keep the job posting up in case we’d get better candidates.”

You mull over the information Jimin has provided you. The military vet does seem to be the obvious choice; he has experience and skills a head security needs but the fact that he’s the only thing standing in between whether his kids will grow up with one parent or end up in foster care makes everything a tad bit harder. That, or the fact that his kids could also be used as leverage by the enemies. Not a pretty thought but, again, it has happened.

On the other hand, Jimin is correct about the martial arts guy. A person who has something to hide could be detrimental to you and the company. He has a good education but no job worth of note. Now, in the normal world, it would be understandable that not everyone is lucky enough but in your life, it’s a red flag. Your enemies are always finding ways to get close to you and you can’t risk being negligent now.

But you’re running out of time.

You nod your head and turn to your secretary. “Alright, then. Give it to the vet. Have him report in on Monday morning.”

Jimin beams. “Consider it done.”

On Monday morning, you walk into the office and are met with a sour-faced Jimin talking heatedly on the phone in the corner of the pantry area. When he sees you, he ends the call and strides over. “He’s not coming,” he huffs.

“Who’s not coming?”

“The vet guy,” he explains bitterly. “Apparently his friend got him a job on the weekend and he felt better to go with the other option.”

“And you told him off on the phone?” You arched an eyebrow at him, incredulous.

Jimin looks confused. “What? No, that wasn’t him. That was the recruiter.” He rolls his eyes and you have the urge to call him an old man but don’t. “Anyway,” he sighs, “I’ve asked the other candidate to come in at ten for a “final” interview.” Jimin makes air quotes with his fingers. “Figured we can talk to him and then see how it goes.”

You stare at the clock. “That’s in thirty minutes.”

Jimin curses, checking his watch. “Fuck!”

“Are you okay? You seem out of sorts today,” you ask, walking over to the coffee machine.

“Are you serious right now?”

You look at him, the coffee machine whirring in the background. “What?”

“Didn’t you see the email I sent you last night?”

“No. Why?”

Jimin looks a little pale. “It’s on your desk,” he says dryly, raising his phone to his ears. “I’ll just go and make sure the guy comes in today.” He walks out of the pantry talking on the phone, his voice harsh and cold to whoever he’s speaking to. You carry your coffee mug into your office and make a straight beeline to the single sheet of paper placed in the middle of it. You pick it up and read through Jimin’s cursive handwriting.

“Sonofabitch!”

***

Jung Hoseok walks into the huge office feeling only slightly intimidated by the large windows and the fact that he was literally three hundred metres above ground. He involuntarily shivers.

“Hi,” he says as he approaches the man dressed in a three-piece suit. The man looks up and smiles and Hoseok is immediately taken aback by how pretty he looks. He clears his throat and continues, “I’m here for the interview.”

“Jung Hoseok?” Jimin asks, though already knowing the answer. He looks the tall man up and down, dressed in a full suit minus a tie; a little odd considering this is an interview.

Hoseok nods. He notices the other man staring at his bare collar and consciously tug at it. “I forgot it. Hope it won’t affect the interview,” Hoseok mumbles, not meaning any word of it. He hates ties, plain and simple.

Jimin stands up and offers his hand. “No worries. We’re not that conventional. I’m Park Jimin, the secretary.” He notices how Hoseok’s eyes grow infinitesimally wider at that but continues, “Please have a seat while I let the boss know you’re here. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“No problem. I was in the neighbourhood,” Hoseok replies as he follows Jimin to a lounge chair outside a set of oak double doors. Another lie. He just needed the job and would think about the multiple traffic rules he broke on the way over later. Hoseok watches as the secretary disappears behind the double doors as he sits down. He strains his ear to hear beyond it but no sound comes through.

Hoseok takes this time to compose his thoughts, running through his head the things that he thinks would be good to say. A temporary head of security position and with his lack of experience, he’s very surprised (and very suspicious) that he even got a callback, never mind a final face-to-face interview directly with the boss. Judging by the place and the very vague ad, he has an idea what sort of man he’d have to keep safe; old, filthy rich with probably illegal money, and most possibly a narcissist. All the top dogs are usually one, especially when their office is this fucking high up in the sky. Why can’t it be something more grounded, for fuck’s sake?

Never mind, he just needs the money. All he has to do is smile and agree to everything the old geezer says and tells him to do. It’s temporary anyway. No biggie.

The oak door opens and Jimin steps out. He gestures to the door. “The boss is ready for you. Go on in.”

Hoseok stands up and takes a few deep breaths. Jimin eyes him, not even hiding the fact that he’s watching the taller man with as much interest as a lion has its prey. The small smile on the secretary’s face is starting to grate Hoseok the wrong way but he straightens himself up and walks past him and into the room without another look.

Jimin waltzes back to his desk, whistling. “Whew, I do sure hope he aces the interview,” he whispers to himself.

Inside, Hoseok is looking around the massive room. Everything about it screams old, rich man smoking cigars his whole life; the dark mahogany desk, the shelves of thick books on economics, world history, business, diamonds and a few others that looked to be in Italian and Japanese, the bare mantelpiece with a couple of plagues to certify that the business is legit. No ashtray, though. The office has a warm brown tone, calming but, again, confirms his earlier assumptions. On the bright side, it also means that the money promised on the ad is something he can expect if he gets the job, an amount that would definitely give him the life that he so desperately wants.

The office is empty and it takes him a while to register the water running in a connecting restroom. He stands in front of the desk, hands clasped in front of him, and waits patiently. He has to give a good impression. This job will be his one ticket to freedom.

The restroom door opens and he turns around, expecting an elderly man with an extended stomach to waddle out. At the sight of you, in a light grey suit with an open top white blouse underneath, Hoseok stumbles backward, hitting one of the chairs behind him, making it scrape back noisily.

“Sorry for the wait,” you say, walking to the other side of the desk. “I just needed to freshen up. Hectic morning. Please, have a seat.”

Hoseok looks around the room again, waiting for someone else to come in. You watch him, a small sarcastic smile on your lips. “Are you looking for someone?”

Hoseok looks back at you, eyebrows furrowed. “I thought-”

His eyes fall on the nameplate in front of him with the title Chief Executive Officer above your name. He looks at you then down at the nameplate and then back at you. You sit back in your chair, watching, amused. “You thought a woman can’t be the boss?”

There’s no contrition on Hoseok’s face, no embarrassment of sorts for having had that sexist thought right in front of a prospective employer. He just looked genuinely confused and then he shrugs, sitting down. “I just had a different idea initially,” he finally says, unbuttoning his suit jacket and crossing his legs at the knee. Five seconds later, he uncrosses it and sits up straighter.

“You’re not used to this, are you?” you ask, tilting your head, observing him.

Hoseok doesn’t answer, his face remaining passive.

You lean your elbows on the desk, steepling your fingers together. “Tell me, what sort of jobs have you had before,” you glance at the resume in front of you, “Jung Hoseok?”

“Different things,” he says casually. “A little bit of this and that.”

You eye him. A small part of you is annoyed by his rudeness but a bigger part of you is actually curious, dying to know what a handsome man like him does for a living that he’s not comfortable in this formal setting. You notice his slender, pretty fingers lightly drumming against his knee while the other hand rests against his cheek, looking at you like he’s the one conducting the interview instead. It’s somewhat angering and yet oddly amusing, like you wanted to see more of this devil-may-care behaviour of his.

“I need specifics, Mr Jung,” you say. “I can’t hire someone I don’t know anything about and your resume,” you lift it up, “is pretty much empty. I don’t know what impression you got of our company but I can assure you I have high standards.”

He looks pointedly at you. “Then why did you request me to come in?”

You blink at him, dumbfounded. “Well, touché,” you laugh lightly, sitting back again. “To be honest, I was attracted by your martial art skills and I’m impressed. I think it will be useful for this position.”

Hoseok slides lower in his seat and spreads his legs in the typical way a man sits. He leans an elbow against the arm of the chair, resting his head lightly on three fingers. Suddenly, you lost your train of thoughts. Something about the way he sits, down to the tapping forefinger against the side of his temple, seems familiar. The set jaws, the serious lips and the tinge of iciness in his eyes; all seem to be ringing a bell in the back of your mind. Especially the eyes. Where have you seen it before?

“If it’s only the martial arts, then you won’t need to know my work history,” he says, his tone of voice cool and even with a touch of airiness that makes you think you’re beneath him. “But if you must know, I work part time as a judo instructor at a gym near my place.”

You glance at the piece of paper in your hand. It’s the only information available there and it doesn’t answer your question. You glare at him but he continues to speak. “Other than that I just do a bit of odd jobs here and there. I didn’t think it would be relevant nor make a good impression so I just left them out.”

“What kind of odd jobs?” you push, narrowing your eyes.

He returns your look coolly and takes five whole seconds before answering. “A bit of bartending, a bit of labour work. Different things like that.”

Outside, Jimin is pouring over the short email he had just received. The background check on Jung Hoseok doesn’t yield much information either, only that he was recruited into a hospitality agency and currently still is an employee there. Jimin Googled the agency but all that comes out is that it’s an outsourcing company, supplying workers to a variety of clients ranging from construction companies to restaurants and bars. He guesses the man wasn’t lying after all. He calls up the agency and speaks to an admin, taking out his pen to jot down in his trusty notebook.

In the office, you check Hoseok’s resume again. “It says here you went to college and graduated with a degree in economics. You’ve been part-timing since then?”

*Yes,” he answers curtly.

“Is there any particular reason for that?”

“The economy is shit these days,” he mutters out. “Look,” he sits up straighter, getting honestly tired of this whole thing, “I’m not here to bullshit with you. I need the money. If you think my martial arts skill will be good for the position, then hire me. If not, let me know so I can get to the next interview.”

You sit there, mouth agape at his audacity. “You’re the one who needs the job, you know,” you retort back, getting angry. “Would it kill you to at least pretend to be nice?”

Hoseok sighs, scratching the side of his head. “Would that make it easier for you?”

“Yes!” You give him an incredulous look but also surprised at yourself for actually answering him. What the hell is wrong with him? “What’s your problem, man?”

Now it’s his turn to look a little shocked, raising his eyebrows at you. Collecting himself, he stands up. “Look, this is a temporary position, right? Just until the end of this week? I’ll lay it out for you: I’m good at kicking ass and I know how to handle a firearm.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I served in the military for eighteen months.”

You scan the resume again. “Then why the hell didn’t you put it here?”

He rolls his eyes. “Because I’m Korean and it’s just a mandatory requirement. It wouldn’t have mattered here.”

“What? Of course it matters! Especially in the job position you’re applying for!” You’re standing up, too, absolutely frustrated with him. “Why did you even bother coming in if this is the attitude you’re giving?”

“Because I needed the job,” he shrugs, answering.

“That’s a rhetorical question!”

He frowns at you as if you’re the one not making any sense. He puts a fist against his hip, looking like he’s ready to walk out the door, and asks, “Do you want me or not?”

Un-fucking-believable. Never in your life have you ever met someone so audacious, so frustrating, so full of himself, and you deal with drug lords and gang leaders and mafias and all sorts of the lowest of lows and yet here you are, amazed by this one man’s ability to rile you up. None of those groups of people that you do business with, shady or not, have ever spoken to you the way he did, with no regards of the consequences whatsoever, and they rule the underworld with iron fists. Even they have respect for you!

Hoseok watches you fluster, your face turning red, your eyes glazing over with what looks like tears, your fists clenching and unclenching as your mouth works to form words. Watching you like that, something tweaks at his heart and he feels just a tad bit guilty. He sighs and throws his gaze out the huge window overlooking the city.

Hoseok is not one to feel sorry for anybody because he grew up with no one feeling sorry for him. That part of him never wired right so for him to actually feel a little sympathy for you is new and honestly, he’s not all too sure what to do about it. He shifts his gaze back to you. “Does the position mean I have to answer to you?”

You grit your teeth. “Yes.”

“Do I have a say in any decisions?”

You think before answering through a strained voice, “Yes, if it’s pertaining to my safety. You can make the call.”

Hoseok looks around the room as if looking for some hints of what the job might actually entail. He notices the many books on diamonds and rocks but other than that, there’s nothing. “Do I have to kill people?” he asks.

You hesitate, shuffling from one foot to the other. You square your shoulders and answer, “Only if and when it’s necessary.”

Hoseok nods quietly to himself, looking down to the plush carpet under his feet as if he’s weighing the pros and cons of it all. He looks up again and his face is more determined. “Do I have to wear a stupid suit?”

You almost laugh but stifle it, schooling your face to look impassive. “Haven’t you seen bodyguards before?” When he doesn’t answer but just stares back at you unfazed, you add, “Never mind. I do expect some sort of professionalism and cleanliness, though. What you have on now is fine.”

“I’m not going to wear any damn ties,” he snaps and it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“Whatever. You start tomorrow.”

You call for Jimin to come in with the employment contract and five minutes later, Jung Hoseok is signing the papers without even looking past the salary offered. He doesn’t even ask about the NDA paperworks nor does he even ask about the one-page loyalty pledge that would have him sign away every right he has over his own life, assets and name should he ever risk, betray, or act insubordinate in any way that could cost your life or the company’s. You and Jimin exchange glances a few times, the regret starting to sink in in the pit of your stomach but you remain quiet throughout the ordeal.

When Hoseok finally left, Jimin stormed straight into your office and raised both arms into the air. “What the fuck was that?”

You’re pinching the bridge of your nose. “No idea. Don’t ask. I feel like I’ve just been bullied into hiring someone and I’m already regretting the decision.”

Jimin narrows his eyes at you. “Well, good thing it’s only temporary because girl, you’re honestly losing it.”

“Did you find anything on him?” you ask through a scowl.

Jimin pouts. “Apart from him being a tall glass of water I would definitely slurp empty, nope. Nada. He’s listed on one of those agencies that outsource workers, that’s about it.”

“Explains the odd jobs,” you mumble. “Find me an actual, qualified person with experience this time, Jimin. We’re getting rid of him after the meeting. Fuck!” You let out a loud frustrated sigh. “I can’t fucking believe they move the meeting to this Friday, fucking bastards.”

*~*

Hoseok comes in pretty early the next day, the same time as Jimin walks out of the elevator and sees him in the pantry, a cup of iced coffee in one hand, scowling at something in the direction of the window.

“Morning,” chirps Jimin cheerily, joining the new hire. He’s in a dark pair of jeans, Chelsea boots, and a dark crisp shirt under his unbuttoned suit jacket. Jimin can clearly see the top of Hoseok’s chest by how many buttons he disregarded; not professional but not something Jimin is going to complain about, especially when he can sneak a peek at the hint of a tattoo there on the left side.

Hoseok doesn’t respond to Jimin but only mildly nods his way. He finally turns away from the window but his eyebrows are still furrowed. “When does she usually come in?”

Jimin glances at the clock. “Around this time. She’ll be here soon and it’s My Lady to you, newbie.”

“You call her that?” Hoseok asks, stirring his coffee with his straw.

Jimin snorts. “The others do. I don’t but we have a long history. You, on the other hand, should know your place.”

“Who should know whose place?” you ask, walking into the pantry.

Jimin hands you your steaming cup of coffee and walks out, saying from over his shoulder, “Ask the newbie.”

You raise your eyebrows at Hoseok but the man just shrugs and walks out after the secretary, leaving you standing there completely clueless. Honestly, you might as well just do a whole reorg because what the hell is with this attitude? You’re their boss!

***

Hoseok spent his first day in hours of briefing with you, Jimin and another person simply referred to as ‘The Coordinator’, who talked mostly about the people or businesses they deal with and honestly, Hoseok barely listened.

Once the one-day onboarding process was finished, the only thing Hoseok fully understood was the reason why the salary was so high it was ridiculous. And also why you needed a head of security. He’s basically a personal bodyguard that has his own team of seven to direct and manage. His one and only job is to stick close to you like gum and make sure you remain alive for the length of his contract period, which isn’t all that long considering he’s mainly hired for the big meeting on Friday, three days away. Easy.

Now, Hoseok might not have listened to any of the lectures he was subjected to but he had been highly attuned to you, reading your body language and facial expression, mainly because he was curious as to why a woman like you is in a business like this. Whatever this big meeting is on Friday, it’s so important to you that you barely sat still. He understood the desperation of hiring him for only four days in total just by the way you chew on your lips and shake your knees as Jimin and the The Coordinator explained to him all about what’s supposed to go down with this big, bad group called, the Sumiyoshi.

At the end of the day, while Hoseok retreats to the restroom, you and Jimin convene together to talk about, well, about him.

“I still don’t like him but hot damn he’s a whole meal,” Jimin says as he leans closer to your face to make sure no other ears are listening. “I say we just keep him on as a pseudo bodyguard after the meeting. I’d appreciate eye candy at the office.”

You nudge him with your elbow hard enough he tilts sideways. “First of all, that’ll be sexual harassment of lusting over your coworker. Second of all, I completely agree with you. Although…”

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Although what?”

“I don’t know,” you say, shaking your head. “Just feel like I’ve seen him from somewhere before. There’s something about those eyes.”

Jimin snorts. “You mean those mean looking eyes that could undress you with one look?”

You swat at his arm and Jimin laughs. “Admit it. You feel it, too. Like he’s judging everybody.” He exaggerates a shiver and then one look at your crimson cheeks he gasps. “Wait a minute, I didn’t mean that kind of undressing, you dirty girl!”

Hoseok walks in with a glum look on his face and frowns at the two of you laughing together. For some reason, it irks him to see Jimin’s hand casually over yours and you leaning into his side. You both straighten up at the sight of him.

“What happened?” you ask, spotting his wet shirt.

“The sink attacked me,” he replies solemnly, heading over to grab some paper towels from the pantry. You and Jimin look at each other before you follow Hoseok out and Jimin goes back to his desk.

“I’m doubting your ability to fill this position,” you say as you walk into the pantry to Hoseok’s futile attempts at dabbing at his shirt.

“Why’s that?” he asks, nonchalant, not even looking up.

“Well,” you start, standing in front of him and removing his hands to see the damage, “you can’t even handle a sink, so…” you give him a wry smile before gesturing to a closet in the corner. “There’s some extra shirts in there. There should be something that could fit you.”

Hoseok walks over to the closet. “You guys have a shirt closet at the office?”

You shrug. “For emergencies,” you answer, thinking about all the times your men came back from an awry meeting having to get rid of their blood-soaked clothes or to not smell of gunsmoke before going home to their families. Most of those times, that shirt closet saved them from a lot of headaches to deal with, especially your team of lawyers.

To your surprise, Hoseok takes off his shirt on the spot, his broad shoulders in full display. “What the hell? You could have gone into the restroom, for fuck’s sake!” you cry out, going over to the pantry door and shutting it.

Hoseok turns around while still unbuttoning the fresh shirt. What’s even more surprising than him stripping half naked in the pantry is the fact that there’s a playful, sarcastic smile on his lips as he looks at you. “You’ve never seen a man’s torso before, My Lady?”

The way he calls you My Lady was in no way respectful. It was teasing, taunting, arrogant. You cross your arms over your chest, standing a little bit taller. “As a matter of fact, I have. And I’m speaking for the rest of the office. No one wants to see you half naked, Jung Hoseok.” But that’s a complete lie. You can count at least two people who would want to, Jimin being the other person.

You can’t help but stare at the very visible abs, the bellybutton peeking just above the belt around his waist, the wide chest, the tattoo on- wait a second. Your eyes zone in on the tattoo symbol on the left side of his chest and your heart starts racing. Hoseok notices where you’re looking and he hurries to pull the shirt over his head instead, turning away towards the huge window to finish buttoning up everything except for the last ones around the collar.

“That tattoo,” he hears you mutter from behind him.

He finally turns back around, feigning nonchalance once again and picks up his own wet shirt from the floor. “What about it?”

You stare at him, not knowing what to say. If you tell him you recognise it, then you’d have to explain where you’ve seen it before and your employee doesn't need to know what kind of magazines you subscribe to. But those eyes, it’s starting to dawn on you why they’re so familiar, having looked at them almost every night before sleep. And it’s not just those eyes that you’ve been looking at, too. Holy fucking shit.

What did you tell Jimin earlier? That it’s sexual harassment to lust over a coworker? You can feel your whole face on fire as you whirl on your heels and walk off, marching past Jimin who gives you a weird look, before slamming your office door behind you.

You lean against the door, heaving. What in the actual fuck? Jung Hoseok is Hoya?!

*~*

You are acting weird, Jimin thinks.

The rest of that Tuesday, you shut yourself in your office and only came out at the end of the day, not a word to anybody, not even Jimin himself. You zoomed past him and quickly left, leaving Hoseok standing there, looking at him as he had all the answers regarding you because Hoseok was supposed to escort you home. That was part of his job scopes. Well, Jimin didn’t have any answers that day and he dismissed Hoseok for the day.

Today, again, you hole up in the office, not even meeting Jimin in the morning in the pantry as usual, only allowing Jimin to come in and out for business purposes only. Jimin chalks it up to you being under stress. The package delivery is on its way and it’s a very high risk time window; anything could go wrong in between the cargo being loaded up into the plane and for it to arrive into your hands. But something else isn’t adding up: you refuse to even acknowledge Hoseok, your head of security, and requested that any communication between them go through Jimin. A pain in the ass because he has other things to deal with but he kept his mouth shut the whole morning.

You, on the other hand, are a complete mess. The package delivery be damned, your whole integrity is about to implode and you have high suspicions that Hoseok knows that you know because you’ve made a fool of yourself by making it obvious. The good thing is, he hasn’t come outright to ask you about it.

Why the hell didn’t that info come up on the background check? Did Jimin fuck up? Or was Hoseok just that good at hiding his side gig? I mean, he does go by a stage name and not listing that job only meant he had wanted to keep things separate but oh my god, how do you keep things separate when the person you’ve been masturbating to is the person on your payroll?! That’s completely unethical! It makes you such a hypocrite, too, if you confide in Jimin about this whole thing and you rather keep to yourself than be laughed at for the rest of your life.

That’s it. That’s what you’ll do. Just keep it to yourself the same way Hoseok is keeping that part of his life a secret. Pretend that everything is fine and dandy. You can do that. You slump in your seat and bury your face in your hands, groaning inwardly. And just like that, an image of your favourite Hoya poster pops in front of your eyes, cock and all, and you scream and stand up.

Jimin opens the door, eyebrows furrowed so deeply they almost merged. “What’s wrong? Did something happen to the delivery?”

The door is pushed open wider and Hoseok peers from behind Jimin’s shoulder, curious, hands in his pockets. Suddenly, his top disappears from your mind and all you can see is the smooth skin of his body and that hope tattoo on his chest. You can even pick out the veins running along his neck, picturing yourself tracing kisses down it, going further south-

“Earth to y/n!” Jimin calls out, coming over to the desk to look at you more closely. The door swings open wider and Hoseok steps in, leaning against the wall of the office, crossing his legs by the ankle. “What is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” you squeak out finally. Clearing your throat, you try again. “Nothing. I’m just- just stressed out. The usual. You know how these times are for me.” You pretend to shuffle around some papers on your desk and Jimin only narrows his eyes.

“The delivery is going as planned,” Hoseok says coolly, his voice even. “My team is monitoring it closely. There shouldn’t be any worry. My Lady.”

You don’t look at him, looking at the spot on the wall next to his head instead and nod. “Right. Good, good.” You swallow, noticing, or probably imagining that strange tone he used to call you ‘my lady’. Most of your men call you that, it’s nothing new, nothing strange. But him? Why does it bother you so much? Maybe because you’ve seen him fucking naked.

“I’m going out to lunch,” you announce, gathering your things.

“Really?” Jimin arches an eyebrow, genuinely perplexed by your behaviour and bordering on worry. “Is it safe to be out and about now? Delivery time is a sensitive one, you usually lay low. I can have your lunch delivered. What would you like?”

“No, no. I need to get some fresh air,” you retort, picking up your bag and rushing for the exit, taking the emergency stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.

Jimin and Hoseok glance at each other. Hoseok pushes off the wall and heads out. “I’ll take care of it,” he says without turning around.

Jimin follows him out to the elevator, still wondering about you. “Bring her back in one piece, Jung.”

The elevator arrives and Hoseok steps in. He gives Jimin a blase two-finger salute before the doors close. As Jimin is about to go back, he notices another odd thing: Hoseok is not going all the way down but only to the level five floors below. Jimin snorts. He guesses the newbie is pretty reliable after all.

You only go as far as five floors down when you start to get breathless and your thighs ache and storming down the stairs in heels isn’t the best of ideas. You pause, leaning against the handrail for support when the emergency door behind you opens and Hoseok leans against one arm to prop it open. “Get out. We’re taking the elevator,” he orders, gesturing with his head. “Hurry before it leaves.”

You want to say no but the thought of going all the way down via the stairs when you’re this high up isn't appealing, crazy almost, so you oblige. In the elevator, both of you remain quiet. It’s a long ride down and it’s the most uncomfortable elevator moment you’ve ever had, cancelling out that one time you were stuck with the Italian mafia right-hand man who was obviously flirting in a language you couldn’t grasp but that you couldn’t say no outright because the deal hasn’t been made yet. And why is it so hot in here?

Finally they arrive and Hoseok pushes past you to lead the way to the waiting car, speaking through his in-ear walkie-talkie. Up in the office, you’ve only ever seen casual Hoseok, nonchalant and calm and looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. But down here, where you’re exposed and Hoseok is in his security mode, he’s a complete one-eighty. His eyes are sharp and narrowed, his jaws set and his pace are brisk. He seems to take the role seriously, for someone hired for four days.

And he’s tall. Very tall, taller than you realise. You knew his height, have memorised the numbers in your head because it's basic information of your fantasy lover, but actually seeing it firsthand and being able to compare yourself to him (you barely come up to his shoulders), is different. You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. Focus, you tell yourself. I’m his motherfucking boss.

Throughout lunch and all the way back to the office, you had hoped that he would bring it up, the fact that he’s Hoya, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even ask you if you knew. He doesn’t speak more than he has to, only replying in curt replies, eyes always looking out and around. He seems to be very aware of his surroundings and you suddenly notice the bulge on his waist side; the company-issued firearm.

“It’s good that you’re taking the job seriously,” you say as you both ride the elevator up to the office, stomachs full and you feeling less out of control.

He gives you a dirty look as if you had offended him. “Of course I am.”

After a few minutes of silence, he adds, “I don’t know what kind of person you take me for, but I take my jobs seriously. You get what you pay for.”

You pull a face, confident you’re out of view standing slightly behind him. “Well, thank you for your service,” you remark, intending to sound sarcastic but Hoseok only shrugs, clearly seeing the face you make through the reflective surface of the elevator door.

Just then, Hoseok receives a message through his walkie-talkie that the package has arrived and passed immigration. He relays the message to you, who slump your shoulders as if the information weighs heavily on them. You lean against the back of the elevator, your face hardening, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Almost there,” he hears you mumble. Again, Hoseok feels the same pang of sympathy he had when they first met. He has so many questions to ask you, mainly how you got involved in this side of business but mostly he’s trying to tell himself not to care. The job is temporary and after Friday, he’ll walk out of this office with enough money to do what he had always dreamt of doing. Easy. Cut and dry. So why does the thought of never returning give him a heavy feeling in his chest?

Hoseok takes another look at you through the reflection. You’re leaning against the back wall, eyes staring at a spot somewhere on the carpet floor of the elevator. You’re thinking of something as your forehead creases over and you start biting on your bottom lip. A sudden urge fills him to whip around and pin you against the wall and kiss you hard enough your lips will bleed. But then your eyes look up to meet his and immediately you smile.

“I hope you’re ready for what’s to come, Jung Hoseok,” you say softly, pushing off the wall as the elevator pings. Gone was the troubled look on your face, replaced with the confidence of a person who knows a lot of things are depending on her ability to lead well. For a brief moment, Hoseok could clearly see the bodies you had stepped on to get here and he’s not sure if he’s disgusted by it or turned on.

He’ll find out soon enough.

*~*

Friday is finally here.

Hoseok has been away since Tuesday night; doing surveillance, putting tabs on the Sumiyoshi to make sure they’re not planning a surprise, investigating every square feet of the meeting location to make sure that nothing is planted and no sniper will camp on any buildings or high places on a thirty-mile radius, just to be safe. He had a whole manual book on what to do for these things and as much as he cursed every step of the way, Hoseok made sure he did everything right to the T.

After all, his head is on the line, too.

But also, he’s actually physically sick worrying about all the possibilities of what could go wrong. Hoseok isn’t one to show emotions; he hides them all behind a solid poker face, one he has been putting on these past couple of days whenever he has to see you or speak to Jimin. His hunch about you knowing about the magazine has been confirmed but he decided that if the issue should be addressed, it wouldn’t come from him and he bet you wouldn’t talk about it, too, because then you have to explain how you even know. It’s a niche market, a type of magazine you don’t just stumble upon by accident, though it does make him crazy curious if you actually subscribe to it. That would be interesting.

Friday morning, Hoseok rides the elevator up to the office and finds the place empty of the other usual employees. Instead, there’s a small group of men (and one woman) standing around speaking in a hush tone. All the desks are empty and there’s a sullen atmosphere in the air. The group looks up when he enters.

Jimin walks in, dressed in all black, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. He’s in dark jeans and not the usual three-piece. “Jung, you’re here. Good,” he says. To the group, he introduces Hoseok. “The new and temporary head of security. You can calm down, Vera.”

That’s when Hoseok sees the woman slide back the knife up her sleeves, nodding at him in acknowledgement. Hoseok joins to stand next to Jimin but he looks around once, searching for you. Jimin must have noticed and says, “She’s in her office, meditating. These are the couriers.”

“Where’s the package?” asks Hoseok.

Jimin gestures to your office doors. “In there.” To the one called Vera, he hands over a navy duffel bag. “Everything’s in there. You can count them if you want.”

Vera passes the bag over to the man on her left and he opens the zipper just an inch before nodding and zipping it back up. Vera offers a hand to Jimin. “Always nice doing business with you, Park,” she says in an accent Hoseok can’t quite place. “Although I have to warn you, the day we arrived we were tailed and it took awhile to shake them off. We didn’t get to identify them.”

Jimin’s face clouds over. “And were you tailed today?”

“No,” Vera snaps. “I made sure of that. But I advise you to keep your eyes open.” She looks pointedly at Hoseok.

They left and Hoseok goes off into the pantry to check in with his team via the radio while Jimin knocks on your door. He peeks in. “Ready when you are, boss.”

“And Hoseok?” you finish buttoning up your blouse over the Kevlar vest and turn around to Jimin.

“In the pantry. Checking in with the team,” replies Jimin. “Everything looks good.” Jimin approaches and helps you put on your jacket, subtly running his fingers over the vest to make sure everything is properly secured. “How do you feel today?”

Jimin’s voice is soft, a voice only reserved for times like this, when tomorrow feels unsure and Jimin will be left for hours at his desk for news on which protocol to follow: the Meredith Grey Protocol, to which he will have all the privately-hired doctors at the ready and set up lawyers to arrange NDAs as well as mobilise the clean up crew, or the Genocide Protocol for worst case scenarios. In the long existence of this company, the latter had been activated only once, the day your grandfather died and it wasn’t even by Jimin.

“Like I want to throw up,” you answer, letting Jimin fuss with the coat because you can feel him checking the vest. “I honestly feel the same way I did that time the lawyer came to my place to let me know I was about to carry on my grandfather’s business.”

Jimin chuckles. “I remember that day. We just graduated.”

You don’t respond.

Hoseok opens the door and his eyes narrow at Jimin. “The car’s here. We should get going.”

Jimin steps away, crossing his arms over his chest to hide how much his hands are shaking. “Good to go.”

“I can see the vest from here,” Hoseok states matter-of-factly. “Don’t you have darker-coloured tops?”

“Watch your tone, temp,” Jimin snarls but he goes into the restroom to rummage through the drawers in there. He comes out with a different blouse in hand and passes it over to you. The phone outside rings and Jimin rushes out to get it, forgetting to drag Hoseok out, too. Hoseok checks his watch; they’re running a minute late and yet you haven’t made any move to change. The vest being seen isn’t a big deal but it might convey the fact that you are expecting something to go bad, which communicates no trust towards the group you’re doing business with. Safety has to be done tactfully to ensure future relationships. Business is business.

Hoseok catches your fingers fumbling with the buttons of your blouse and he’s honestly a little irked. Aren’t you supposed to be some powerful mogul in the diamond business?

Getting impatient, Hoseok steps forward and roughly pulls off the coat from your shoulders, drapes it over his arm and deftly undo the buttons of your blouse. It’s not like you’re completely naked under there and you aren’t even objecting, merely standing there letting him do whatever.

“Get it together,” he hisses as he yanks the top from your arms. “ Is this what you want to show to your business partners, that you’re just a scared little girl?”

Your eyes flashes dangerously at him. You push him away much to his surprise and grab the blouse from him, putting it on over your head by undoing only a couple of the top buttons. You take the coat from him and take a deep breath. You round on him, poking a finger into his chest. “Don’t ever talk to me like that again.”

You walk out just as Jimin finishes the call. “Everybody’s on the move,” Jimin reports. If he notices the stormy look on your face, he leaves it for later, as a promise to himself that you will be back. “Good luck out there.”

You nod at him and force a smile. “Hold down the fort for me, will ya?”

Jimin doesn’t answer but watches you leave. As Hoseok is passing him, he pulls on the other man’s arm, making him stop and turn angrily. “You let anything happen to her, your ass is mine.”

Hoseok sneers at Jimin’s threat but takes it as an offence to his job albeit it being about to end at the end of the day, one way or another. “I’ll bring the princess back, don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he jabs back, turning around and walking out after you.

In the car, you are silent the whole ride. Hoseok sits in front, quietly listening to the reports of his team in his ear, noting bits and pieces of information that are important. So far, everything looks according to plan. He’s aware that the Sumiyoshi also have the same type of team keeping tabs on them the same way he is and that’s fine. As long as both parties play their parts well, neither of them will have anything to complain about and they all can go home safe and sound.

But Hoseok can’t quite get rid of this unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach, growing stronger as they get nearer to the meeting place. He tells himself that it’s just nerves but no matter how much he tries, he can’t completely get rid of it. He’s been pestering his team too much now that he can even hear the annoyance in their voices. In the end, he remains in his seat, fist tightly gripping the handle above his head.

The meeting place is an office space on the thirteenth floor of a building downtown. Bright open space with floor to ceiling windows at a three-sixty degree of the room, with other taller buildings surrounding it. The Sumiyoshi, as bad as they are, have a reputation of doing things in broad daylight, aware of the power they hold. Hoseok remains leading the way for you, making sure that you are always behind him at all times and three of his teammates in a circle around you; one on each side of you and one bringing up the rear.

The other four are off site, in a place where they are able to monitor all entrance and exit points as well as having a clear view of the room they are in. Hoseok has all their specific locations noted, casually glancing at the neighbouring buildings even though he can’t see them. The Sumiyoshi are already there; a total of eight of them, big burly men in suits with golden something on either their necks or their wrists or their fingers. There are only five of us, he thinks.

As you take your seat at the big table, Hoseok and his team remain standing behind you. Hoseok stands right next to your shoulder, close enough to touch but further enough for them to know that he’s only a bodyguard. He doesn’t even bother to hide the firearm on his side but the one under his right armpit is starting to feel uncomfortable.

The meeting starts smoothly; a little back and forth about the weather and the economics, a little bit about this really nice restaurant one of the men went to that they think you should really try, and a bit about home life thrown in, asking you if the behaviour of their wives are all normal or if they were all crazy chicks just after the money.

Through all the topics, Hoseok watches you smile politely, laugh softly at all the right places, agree with their views on how shit the economy is now, tell them that the restaurant sounds lovely and force a laugh at wives issues they are having, telling them you’re not married so you’re not sure if you know what normal is in that situation. All pleasantries and just about what they want to hear without involving yourself too much, just vague answers that sound a lot like agreements than you holding back your tongue. Smart, Hoseok thinks, and you do it so with ease; all signs that you really know how to spin these types of guys easily.

But it’s all just surface-level, both you and the eight men know. A little dance everybody does to keep things light before the real thing starts, and the real thing finally starts when the man sitting in the middle clears his throat and adjusts his sitting position. The atmosphere completely shifts and even Hoseok notices it, sucking in a breath and stiffening his spine, listening to his four men in his ear reporting the all clear, nothing suspicious. But his gut is acting up again and he has to clasp his hands together to keep still.

“Now, let’s get down to business, shall we?” the man in the middle speaks, leaning over the table. “Do you have it?”

A part of Hoseok wonders why buying diamonds has to be so shifty like this. They’re just diamonds, you can walk into any jewellery store and get them. He never really thought about it much before but being in this meeting is starting to make him wonder the origin of the diamonds. Why do these men buy diamonds from you? Are they illegal? Why? And why are you involved in this business?

You lean back in your seat, a soft smile on your lips. “Of course I do, Kenji-san. The question is, do you have the payment method ready?”

The man called Kenji breaks into a wide smile and the man next to him brings up a small briefcase and places it on the table in front of him. He taps it. “All in here, sweetheart.”

“You know I hate pet names,” you say sweetly. “But I’ll let it slide this time.” You gesture to Hoseok to get the briefcase but Kenji stops him.

“The merchandise first, sweetheart,” he drawls, his tone losing the pleasantness just seconds ago.

You return his gaze, unmoving, and Hoseok is on high alert, waiting for any signal from you. Your face is completely blank of any emotions but your eyes are calculative, narrowing ever so slightly that Hoseok would probably not have seen it if he hadn’t been keeping his eyes on you. With his hand behind his back, he signals the others to stay alert, something he didn’t actually have to do because unlike him, they are not new.

You stretch out a palm to Hoseok. “Your knife, please, Hoseok.”

The eight men stiffen up, sitting straight in their seats at the mention of a knife. You giggle quietly. “Relax, guys,” you say, taking the knife Hoseok passes over from his ankle strap and pulling open the right side of your coat. With one swift swipe, you make a slit and pull out a small velvet bag. You dangle it in front of you and Hoseok can hear the small stones inside. His heart is starting to beat a little faster.

One of the Sumiyoshi’s men stands up from his seat and Hoseok glares at him. The man looks coolly back at him with a crooked smile. He reaches for the briefcase and takes a few steps forward just as you stand up. Hoseok follows you as you approach the man and he can feel all the hairs on his neck rise up. He has this tingling feeling creeping down his back and everything in his being is telling him to make a break for it, pull you away and out of this building right this second.

You nod for Hoseok to take the briefcase being handed over and he does, palms sweating. Just as the man wraps his beefy hand around the velvet pouch, he lets go of the briefcase and both you and Hoseok step back almost casually, away from the man’s reach. As if a gun couldn’t do what his hands couldn’t, Hoseok thinks darkly, but relief all the same as he literally pulls you by your coat back to your seat.

Hoseok watches as the pouch trades hands to Kenji who unlaces it and tips the content into the palm of his hand and immediately Hoseok understands. The diamonds are raw diamonds, uncut and untraceable, and mostly, very much illegal. Although the price of raw diamonds is cheap, the fact that it’s unregistered gives the owner an infinite capacity to manipulate them. The business isn’t about money at all; it’s about power. The handle of the briefcase burns that much hotter in Hoseok’s hand and he’s confident he won’t find cash inside. It’s too light anyway.

You lean over and take the briefcase from him, setting it on the table. Opening it, you reveal the content inside for Hoseok to see. A single envelope lays in the middle, thin and white, and you take it and pull out the paper inside. Hoseok glances at it. It’s a list of names, none of which Hoseok recognises. You fold the paper into a tiny square before slipping it into the same opened seam from where the diamond was hidden earlier and one pull at a thread, the pocket closes up nicely.

“It’s nice doing business with you, sweetheart,” Kenji says as he puts away the diamonds.

“Likewise,” you reply with a smile, closing the briefcase and sliding it back across the table. “If there’s nothing else, then I better get going.”

“Did you hear about the Ryuukais?”

You pause and raise your eyes to look at Kenji. “Unfortunate, yes.”

“Mhmm.” Kenji places a cigar in between his lips, sits back, cuts the tip and lights it up. He blows out a puff of smoke before saying, “Didn’t you wrap up a deal with them just the night before?”

You don’t respond, training your face to remain calm. There’s a small smile on your lips bordering on acidic, looking nowhere near as sweet as it did earlier. “Yes, I did, actually.”

“How did it go?”

Hoseok watches your jaw ticks before you answer. “We both know I can’t disclose information about the businesses I deal with. It’s confidential.”

Hoseok doesn’t like the way the men are looking at you; eyes leery with a hint of amusement, like they know something Hoseok doesn’t, like they’re shared a joke earlier and are now recalling it in their heads. He steps closer to you. His men outside must have noticed as there’s a flurry of voices in his ear as they check the surrounding areas. They are trained to read body languages and Hoseok’s body language, through the lens of their snipers, is screaming danger.

“From what I heard it didn’t go very well,” he adds, puffing on the thick cigar. “I must say, should we ever come to a disagreement of sorts, would we be next?”

You smile at him but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I assure you it wasn’t just a disagreement, Kenji-san. As long as we remain cordial and honest, I can see our relationship going beyond into the future.”

Kenji looks at you, blinking lazily as if he’s contemplating on something. At that moment, you remember something; the Ryuukais and the Sumiyoshi are practically brothers. This isn’t going to go well. You had been so focused on the deal that you forgot this little detail and now it makes sense why they moved the meeting up. As much as you had been stressing about the meeting, they had also been eager to see you.

Fuck. How the fuck did you miss this?

Kenji stands up, the cigar in between his fingers. *I don’t know about our relationship going into the future,” he says as softly as if he’s talking about the weather.

Something passes over Hoseok’s eyes that makes him blink and the next thing he knows is looking at the faint red dot in the middle of your chest. He doesn’t even think about it, doesn’t even get to register what he’s doing until it’s done and he’s pinning you to the floor and the window to the side has burst into a million pieces. His men immediately go into cover and retrieve mode; fanning out on your sides, guns blazing, returning bullets with the eight men on the other end, hunkering down and using the table and chairs as shields.

Hoseok doesn’t wait for you to regain your balance, pulling up on your feet and dragging out of the room by the wrist before pulling you under his arm, using his jacket to shield your upper half as you both run across the room. He can hear the shouts of his snipers in his ears, exchanging information about the enemies location and readjusting their positions so they can cover your exit. Hoseok lunges for the emergency stairs and escorts you all the way down. As you both burst out into the lobby, you are met with a group of gunmen, not yours, but the Sumiyoshi’s, with their guns drawn.

Hoseok jumps forward, pushing you behind him and he starts shooting. The sound of guns going on ring in your ears and you see your car pulling up, bullets bouncing off of its bulletproof windows.

“Go, go, go!” Hoseok shouts angrily from over his shoulder and you run like hell, Hoseok close behind you. A bullet zips past you and bounces off the car’s body and you duck. It’s the exact moment when Hoseok comes flying into you, holding his abdomen. “Fuck,” he hisses, sitting up, grimacing, and continuing to shoot to the men now two left.

Panicking, you get the door open and attempt to drag Hoseok in but he’s too preoccupied to cooperate with you. When he realises what you’re trying to do, he pushes off onto his feet and walks backward to enter the car. He manages to half-turn and roughly shoves you in first that you tumble into the backseat. A bullet hits Hoseok on the neck and he screams as he’s flung backward. One final shot of Hoseok’s gun, the last man outside is thrown to the floor and you finally manage to pull the door closed, the car screeching away from the building.

In the silence of the car, with your ears still ringing, you shift to Hoseok, clamping down on the side of his neck, blood seeping from in between his fingers. First, you tore away his suit jacket, remembering that he had been shot in the stomach but there’s no signs of blood, except for the hole in his shirt. Then you see the Kevlar vest and actually sigh with relief. Hoseok groans in pain and you realise he still has a hole in his neck.

“Back to the office! Tell Jimin to have a doctor ready!” you scream at the driver, probably too loudly as you can’t quite hear your own voice, mostly from the panic in your chest, partly from the tinnitus that won’t go away. You help Hoseok clamp down over his hand, praying that they get there in time.

During the whole car ride back to the office, Hoseok’s eyes never left yours and for once since you met him, there was no iciness in them, just pure concern and worry, especially when he reaches over and touches the bleeding scratch on your cheek. “Sorry for that,” he croaks and you swat his hand away.

“Hush,” you chastise him, angry that he had the time to worry about a scratch when he’s bleeding out all over your car.

***

Jimin holds the door open as you help Hoseok into the office, alarmed at the sight of blood all over your hands and Hoseok’s.

“Have you sent in the retrieval team for the others?” you bark at Jimin under the weight of your Head of Security.

“They’re already on the way,” Jimin replies. “The doctor’s inside.” He rushes forward to help open the door to your private office before helping you transfer Hoseok into a chair. Dr. Min Yoongi steps up, gently prying your hand off of the bleeding area so he can take a look at Hoseok. There’s a lot of blood and he gets to work cleaning the wound area so he can see better.

He glances up at you. “I need you to move your ass and sit over there. You’re in the way, sis.”

Begrudgingly, you step back but don’t sit down, watching with eagle eyes as your brother works with a gauge and a pair of forceps to dab away the mess. Jimin turns you around and pats you all over. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” You shrug him off, focused only on Hoseok, white as a sheet. “Go and make sure the others get back safely.”

Jimin looks reluctant to move but at least he’s made sure you’re fine. Finally, he walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. You go to sit in the chair next to Hoseok, who’s turned the other way to let Yoongi access the wound area. He hisses with every dab and once the place is clear enough, Yoongi releases a sigh.

“What? How bad is it?” you ask, sitting on the edge of your seat.

“It’s just a graze,” Yoongi explains with a scoff. “But it must have hit close to the main artery. I just need to close it off and he’ll be fine.”

Relief washes over you and you feel your limbs go weak. Thankfully, you’re in a chair already and slump backward, throwing your head back. Yoongi watches you carefully as he fixes up the other man, amused at the fact you care this much.

“Still hurts like a motherfucker,” Hoseok groans through gritted teeth.

Yoongi chuckles. “I’ve seen worse wounds. You’ll live.”

“Try and get shot at and let me know if you feel the same,” mumbles Hoseok and Yoongi only laughs. “Stay still, punk,” Yoongi tells him.

It doesn’t take long. Once the wound is patched up, the blood immediately stops and Yoongi administered him a shot for the pain because now that the adrenaline is gone, Hoseok is starting to ache everywhere. The spot where his bulletproof vest had been shot at is starting to bloom a nasty-looking bruise. All the while, you stayed by his side.

When Yoongi finishes and Hoseok has shuffled into your powder room to change into a fresh T-shirt, Yoongi pulls you aside as he packs up. “So, what’s up with the new guy?” At the surprised look on your face, he adds, “Jimin told me while we were waiting.”

“Oh.”

“Well?”

You give him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“You’re hovering over him,” says Yoongi with an eye-roll. “You never hover, never mind an employee.”

You frown at him. “He almost died protecting me.”

“First, he didn’t. It’s just a graze,” Yoongi corrects, counting on a finger, then adding another. “Second, that’s his job. Plus, I never see you fawn over Hank the same way.”

“I wasn’t fawning!” you retort, scowling as you watch Yoongi stuff his bags. “Was I?”

“Sis,” Yoongi laughs, zipping up his bag and going for the door. “Seriously, figure that out yourself. I’m going to wait outside for words about the others. From the sound of things, it’s not looking good and I might have to call in Jin for help. Wait, you’re not going to hover over the other men, right?”

You pull a face at him. “Get out.”

“You’re very welcome, sis,” he says sarcastically as he leaves.

“What was that about?”

You jump, whirling around to see Hoseok standing there, neck bandaged, touching the gauze gingerly. You approach him, eyeing the bandage to make sure Yoongi did a good job. Of course he did. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” he answers, sitting down. Under the light of your office directly above him, you notice that you can see the hope tattoo through the T-shirt. Hoseok notices you looking at the spot on his chest. To redirect your attention, he asks, “You still have the vest on?”

You look down at yourself. “Oh, yeah.” You start to paw at the velcro of the vest but without taking off your own blouse, you wouldn’t be able to take the Kevlar off and for some reason, you keep struggling with it. Hoseok watches you silently for a few minutes, noting the faraway look in your eyes, the way your lower lip quivers and realises that you’re just coming down from the adrenaline now.

He stands up and walks over to you, as quietly as he can as you continue to struggle. Once he’s standing in front of you, just a foot apart, you finally look up and something squeezes Hoseok’s heart like a vice at the sight of your Bambi eyes. A sneak attack, he thinks, right after I’ve been shot. So unfair.

Without a word, Hoseok hooks his fingers around the hem of your blouse and pulls it off; he does it in slow motion, waiting every second for you to protest, to tell him to fuck off. But you don’t, standing there almost listlessly, letting him undress you. Then, he works on the Kevlar, strapping it off of you and throwing it into the chair where it lands heavily. Now, you’re both standing there, motionless; him with his wrapped neck, you in your bra.

Your eyes are glued to the spot where the tattoo on his chest is and this time you don’t bother to pretend ignorance. With tentative fingers, you reach out to touch it over the T-shirt and Hoseok lets you, watching you curiously. On a whim, he takes off the shirt and watches you stare, a little wide-eyed at the tattoo. There’s recognition in the way you’re looking at it and Hoseok’s confirmed on what he already knows.

You touch the tattoo, your finger hot on his skin. Again, call it a whim or call it immaturity because Hoseok is suddenly angry for whatever reason - probably from what just went down earlier, because as much as he has had experience with shooting a gun, he had never had to shoot at someone before and having it shot back in his direction, because target practice in the military don’t shoot back and he’s starting to feel that he wasn’t fully prepared for the whole shitshow - he presses your palm over the tattoo.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say something,” he hisses into your face. “I know you know.” You try to pull away but Hoseok holds you in place, taking one step forward and pinning you against the desk, anger surging. “I know you know who I am and I bet you’ve fantasised about me, too, in bed. Haven’t you?”

The anger swells up though he can’t quite pinpoint what the cause is. He’s angry that no one told him that he could die on the job? He’s angry at himself for being so lackadaisical about it when signing the damn employee contract? He’s angry at you for not saying anything and treating him for a fool, the same way you didn’t warn him that a meeting could go south in a blink of an eye? None of the reasons, if Hoseok was thinking clearly, made any sense because he’s not a child. But he’s angry all the same and he needs to direct it somewhere. He nearly fucking die, damn it!

You’re quiet, not saying anything, only looking back at him, breathing heavily. That only makes him angrier. “You have, haven’t you? When you realised who I was, did you fantasise about this, too? Hoya taking you on this desk, in this office?”

He’s squeezing the flesh on your side. “Answer me, goddammit!”

“I don’t,” you finally whisper.

“Liar!” he growls, face inches from yours. “Admit that you’ve been fantasising about him in your bed and how much you want him to fuck you right here!” He slams his fist into the desk. “Admit it!”

You meet his gaze. “I don’t. I don’t fantasise about Hoya.” In a lower voice as you look away, you add, “Not anymore.”

It feels like having to admit your deepest, darkest secret in public and you’ve never felt so humiliated. Forget about bruised egos, you wish the floor would just open up and swallow you whole. Your fantasy lover, your sweet, sexy Hoya has been slowly disintegrating in your mind the day you realised who Hoseok was, slowly, slowly replacing with images of the real person, Hoseok himself. Lusting for a coworker is sexual harassment, your own voice echoes in your head.

You hook a finger through a belt loop in his pants and pull him closer, crotch to crotch and immediately you can feel him, hard and poking against your pubic bone. Looking him in the eye, you say, “I don’t fantasise about Hoya.”

For a moment, Hoseok can’t comprehend what you’re saying; the fact that his cock is pressing up against you could be the main reason why his brains are scrambled. There’s a petulance in the look in your eyes and the way you’re looking at him challengingly, daring him to take the hint and act on it. Why are you doing this to him? Why do you make him so angry? Why is he so angry?

The fact that you did, in the past, had fantasised about the adult model leaves him with a bitter taste in his mouth at the unfairness. Why does Hoya get everything? Even you, for a moment. “Why not?” he asks, genuinely curious. “Why not anymore?”

You lean on your tiptoes, pressing your palms against his chest, the spot where his cock is digging in searing hot. “Because,” you say, your breath falling on his lips. “I’ve been fantasising about you, Jung Hoseok. I don’t want Hoya anymore when I have the real thing right here.” You lean in closer. “But, I won’t do anything. I’m your boss.”

You push him away, catching him by surprise that he stumbles backward a few steps. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I-”

Hoseok grabs your wrist and wrenches you backward. “Actually,” he says, purring into your ear, “you’re not my boss anymore. As of five o’clock just now, my contract ended.”

You scowl at the clock on the wall: 5.01. You glance back at Hoseok, arching an eyebrow. “And?”

“Fuck, you make my blood boil,” he hisses, eyes glaring at you angrily, mouth connecting with yours without a warning, teeth gnashing together that you taste blood on your tongue the same way you can taste Hoseok’s overflowing emotions. You recognise it well, have gone through it in the past too many times too much after every gunfight. It’s not anger that he’s feeling but he probably hasn’t figured that out yet, confusing it with anger because that’s the emotion he knows and can place.

He’s still running on adrenaline, never switching off his fight-or-flight response and since he had been on fight mode to get you out of the situation earlier, he’s still there, but since there’s nothing to fight, he’s channelling it differently. To be honest, you’re still in that same haze, too, probably why you never fight him off when he kisses you, probably also why you pull him in closer, pressing your front up against him and letting him lift you up and plops you on the edge of the desk. He needs this as much as you do.

“Tell me,” he says in between kisses, “what do you want me to do, my lady?”

The words my lady makes a shiver run down your spine, even more when he says it like that; spitefully, sarcastically. The fire burning in Hoseok’s eyes is somehow turning you on even more than the icy cold look that Hoya always has. You want that fire to burn you, too, and maybe it could clean away all the parts you hate and free you of the burden you’ve felt since taking over the company. You want Hoseok to incinerate you if it means liberation.

Hoseok peppers your neck with kisses so rough little red spots dot your skin. As he sucks on your earlobe, you let out a whine that only fuels him on. “FYI, I’m better than him,” he growls and only for a second, you wonder why he refers to Hoya in the third person but the thought completely wipes out from your mind the moment he pulls your bra down and wraps his mouth around your already perky nipple.

You lean back on your hands, giving him free access, clamping your mouth shut from making any noise but the way he rolls your nipple in between his teeth and tongue almost makes you lose it. There’s a soft knock on the door but you ignore it, your eyes closed and focused on Hoseok’s mouth. It’s not long until he’s shimmying off your pants and underwear together, kneeling by the desk, fingers digging into your thighs as he keeps your legs from closing around his head.

You’re already so wet that when Hoseok’s mouth lands on your soaked cunt, he makes this loud slurping sound as he sucks on your throbbing clit. This time, you bite onto your arm to keep from screaming out. That long tongue you’ve seen on posters, that you’ve dreamed of having on you, is now actually teasing and prodding your entrance, tongue-fucking you so well you’re starting not to care that they are people outside the door, one of them your own older brother.

Hoseok stands up and the strain in his pants is very much evident. He doesn’t even bother to take it off fully, pushing it down to his knees, enough to spring his length free for you to finally gaze at its glory. It’s exactly like the poster but much larger, sticking up erect against his stomach. Without wasting time, you widen your legs as an invite and Hoseok lines himself up. He glides it over your clit a few times, gathering your juice before slowly, painfully slowly, sinks in, letting your warmth cover him tip to base, feeling every ridge of your wall swallow him whole. You pulsate around him, adjusting to his size as he leans his forehead against yours.

Something inside you screams that this isn’t the time or place for this type of debauchery but the way Hoseok’s eyes set you on fire, you can barely think clearly. You can hear familiar voices outside your door and can tell that Yoongi must have called Jin over. There’s a soft knock on the door and Hoseok growls, “Fuck off,” and whoever is on the other side must have heard the fury in his voice and doesn’t bother to knock again.

“Your team needs medical attention when they get back,” you say breathlessly, fully aware of the parts of you and Hoseok that are connected. “We should-”

Hoseok pulls out and rams in, knocking the breath out of you in a loud gasp as your toes curl at the delicious feeling. “Finally found a way to shut you up, My Lady,” he comments with a smirk. “See if you can keep quiet for me.”

The desk rattles underneath you but you’re stubborn in your own ways, clamping your mouth shut, whimpering in your throat as you brace your knuckles against the surface of the desk. Hoseok pounds into you until your eyes roll back into your head, him grunting softly, you a whining mess. Unsatisfied and annoyed, Hoseok pulls you off the desk and readjust you, hitting you from the back while holding one of your legs up by the knee, an angle that lets him reach in deep, leaving your mouth hanging open, not even a squeak uttered as it feels like you can barely breathe. The sound of wet skin slapping against skin is resounding in your ears.

“Look at you, taking orders so well,” Hoseok hisses in my ear. “Is this what you fantasise about happening between you and Hoya?”

“Just get it over and done with,” you snap back, leaning against the desk for support. You can hear a slight commotion outside the door as the team left behind is back. You can hear the scraping of furniture as things are being moved around to create space.

Again Hoseok wrenches your wrist over to your office chair, guiding you to straddle him. Once you slide back onto his length, sighing softly, Hoseok roughly cups your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “Look at me so you can see it’s not Hoya,” he orders. “I want you to remember that it’s me making you feel this way, me stuffing you full. Not him.”

You nod weakly, wanting nothing than to appease the fire in his eyes, the same fire that seems to be burning stronger in the pit of your stomach with every plunge as you move on top of him. You can feel that familiar twist, the coiling of pleasure as it winds tighter and tighter. Hoseok gets the signal from the way you fist his shirt and the way your pussy clenches harder around his cock. You’re close and so is he.

You’re losing momentum, growing tired from having to move on tiptoes to have as much control on your movements so Hoseok places both hands over your ass and lifts you up, transporting you onto the desk once again, your back flat on it. Then he gets to work; his strokes are relentless yet even, assisted by how overflowing your cunt is, making everything that much more pleasurable.

“I’m close,” you manage to squeak out.

“Keep your eyes open,” Hoseok warns but this time his voice is softer. “Keep your eyes on me, princess. Say my name.”

You’re a little confused but obliged, his name coming out in a whisper at first. The orgasm is close now. “Louder,” urges Hoseok, chasing it.

“Hoseok,” you mumble, spreading your legs wider, letting him hit exactly in that sweet spot. You’re oh so close your back is arching off the desk. “Hoseok.” Your voice is growing louder and the desk makes a loud sound as it’s suddenly pushed back slightly.

Not a minute later, you’re pulling Hoseok in by the neck, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the scream spilling from your lips as you orgasm hard enough for Hoseok to have a few last strokes before pulling out and spilling all over your stomach, covering your skin with hot milky liquid that you barely pay attention to as you come down from your high. When you finally let go of Hoseok, a crimson set of teeth marks bloom on the shoulder of his shirt.

Hoseok glances at the spot, frowning. “You bit me.”

“You told me to be quiet,” you retort sweetly.

***

Your office door finally opens and Jimin sighs, “Finally, thank God! You finally decide to-”

He stops, looking at you from head to toe, noticing that you’re in a pair of jeans and a loose T-shirt, not what you were wearing earlier. Hoseok is also in a fresh dark T. You fake nonchalance, typing up your hair into a ponytail to manage the mess and walk over to Yoongi tending to one of your men. He doesn’t seem to have any serious wounds. Hoseok goes over to the others, crouching on the floor to talk to one of them.

Yoongi doesn’t even bother looking up but there’s a smug look on his face. “Finished debriefing your Head of Security?”

You catch Yoongi looking at you in the reflection in the window and glare at him. “Yes. It was satisfactory.” He snorts a laugh but doesn’t say anything more.

The team came back mostly intact, suffering from light wounds that can easily be taken care of. After the doctors finished looking at them, Hoseok takes them to another room to have a post mortem regarding the situation and you help Yoongi and Jin pack up. Jimin is already on the phone with the clean-up crew, occasionally flicking his eyes over at you like he’s got something to say and is antsy to say it.

Honestly, you’re not up to dealing with him right now, so you pack up your things and head home. Jimin will take care of things, that much you know, and you’ll deal with the Sumiyoshi another day. Right now, all you can think about is your bed and how warm and safe it would feel under the thick blankets because now that the adrenaline is gone, you feel bone tired, dragging your feet as you arrive home and climb into bed.

You must have dozed off because when you open your eyes again, the room is dark and someone is ringing your doorbell incessantly. You get up and squint at the intercom through your sleepy eyes and see Hoseok standing in the lobby area, waiting to be let in with one hand against his hip.

“What is it?” you croak through the speaker, hoping he'll just go away.

Hoseok looks up directly into the camera. “Let me in already.”

“Just go away.”

You watch as he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He holds up a paper bag to the camera. “I suppose you’re not hungry then.”

Your stomach lets out a loud rumble.

***

You eat in silence, Hoseok sitting across from you as he pushes his food around with his fork, watching your plate to make sure your food is eaten.

“How’d you know my favourite shop?” you ask, trying to alleviate the awkwardness.

“Jimin,” he grunts out.

Suddenly, the memories of earlier in the office come rushing in and your fork pauses just inches from your lips. “Oh,” you say quietly. “Did he, um��did he say anything to you?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “Why? Should he?”

You shrug, feeling a little relieved. “Just wondering.”

Hoseok puts down his fork and crosses his arms over his chest. “Are you two in a weird situationship or something? Because I’m not going to waste my time getting in the middle of that.”

You almost choke on your food as you laugh, shaking your head and coughing, fingers wiping your eyes. “Where the hell did you get that idea from?”

“You guys look really close.” You look up and can’t believe to see the pout on his face as he looks down to the floor, scowling. Something about the way he looks at that moment makes you feel weirdly protective of him.

“We are,” you say, continuing to eat. “We practically grew up together. He had been there since the beginning and I guess we bonded over shared trauma.”

Hoseok raises an eyebrow.

You chuckle. “It’s just something we say. When my grandfather died, we were both only seventeen, fresh out of high school. He was the grandson of my grandfather’s right-hand man who died the same day my grandfather did. Well, you can imagine how.”

Hoseok gives a small nod.

“Yeah, well, after that, it was a whole shitshow of finding a successor and because I’m a girl, the company wasn’t confident. But my grandfather’s will was ironclad so they sent me off to college and groomed me to be the next head. Jimin, too. He would have been a professional dancer by now, you know? If they had let him be.”

Hoseok watches you stare into your plate, barely eating now. There’s a melancholy in your voice and a bittersweet smile lingering on your lips. “Jimin tells me that he agreed to the role so he can keep an eye on me,” you laugh, “but I’m certain that he was subjected to more pressure than I was and not with words.” You give him a knowing look. “So when I finally stepped into the position, I swore I was going to do things differently.”

Hoseok scoffs. “Is it really any different now?”

You smile at him. “My grandfather led the top underground organisation of his time. This company is built on the bones of his enemies. Literally.”

“You still deal with the same type of people,” Hoseok points out.

You sigh. “Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can never wash off the bloodstains. Not completely.” You stand up and collect the plates, bringing them over to the sink. “Enough about me. What about you?”

“What about me?”

You lean against the sink, looking at him. “Look, I know you know that I know you’re Hoya, let’s get that out in the open now. Yes, I buy those stupid magazines, kill me.”

He smirks but his eyes clouded over. “I thought lusting over a coworker is wrong.”

You roll your eyes. “We’re not coworkers, I’m your boss.”

“Which makes it even worse.”

You let out a groan. “Seriously, stop trying to distract me!”

“From what?”

“From demanding that you just admit it.”

“Admit what?”

That you’re Hoya! That you work as an adult model on the side!” You’re so frustrated now you’re actually screaming at Hoseok who only looks mildly amused.

“I’m not,” he says simply.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever, I don’t care,” you snap, proceeding to start doing the dishes. “You can go now. I’m just going back to bed after this.”

Hoseok stands up and walks over to stand next to you. He leans over slightly so you’re forced to look at him. “I’m not Hoya,” he repeats.

“I saw the tattoo on your chest,” you retort. “You don’t have to lie.”

Hoseok touches the spot over his T-shirt. “Yeah, we got matching tattoos.”

You give him an incredulous look. “What the hell? Do you have some kind of multiple personality thing or something?”

“No, I don’t. I’m not Hoya, and Hoya isn’t me.”

You stare at him, the water running in the background. “I don’t get it.”

Hoseok leans back against the kitchen cabinet. “He’s my twin.”

“What kind of bullshit is that?”

“I have a twin brother. It’s not bullshit,” Hoseok reiterates, frowning. He fishes out his phone from his pocket, scrolls around on it and produces a photo to show you. “See? Twins.”

You stare, open-mouthed, at the picture of two identical men; one clearly Hoseok with his serious face, barely a smile, the other one the complete opposite with a bright smile and a peace sign over his eyes, his other arm thrown over Hoseok’s shoulders.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out. “You’re twins!”

“Like I was telling you,” Hoseok replies, rolling his eyes and putting the phone away.

“Wow,” you say again. “That’s…that’s…”

Hoseok crosses his arms again, the smirk on his face growing into a grin. “Yeah, you lusted over your employee’s family member. Should I report to HR?”

Flustered, you tell him, “Actually your contract ended so you’re not my employee anymore.” You turn back around to do the dishes, hiding the fact that your face is burning red.

Hoseok nods. “Right.”

You feel his arms snake around your middle, pulling you up against him as he places his lips to your ear. “Since I’m not an employee anymore,” he whispers, “how about we continue where we left off earlier? Hmm? I heard you have a king bed.”

Against your better judgement, you melted into him. “Let me guess; Jimin told you about that too?”

Hoseok purrs. “He implied, yes.”

While Jimin prepares for battle at the office, making a few phone calls and arranging a few meetings here and there for you, you and Hoseok retreat to the bedroom and for the first time since the bed was bought, you’re about to see if the quality is as good as the brand company promised; sturdy and quiet.

You left your phone in the kitchen so you missed the text from Jimin: I hope the tall glass of water I sent your way is rejuvenating

a/n2: so I wrote this before news of jhope's enlistment came up and kinda hate myself for writing it into existance :') cmon be honest, what did you think? lol give it to me in the comments or ask IM READEHHH lmaoooo

Check out my other works → :MASTERLIST:

#bts jhope #bts hoseok #jung hoseok #hoseok x you #bts jhope x you #bts one shot #jhope one shot #hoseok one shot #bts smut #hoseok fic #jhope smut #fanfic #bts fanfic #bts jhs #jhope fanfic #hoseok fanfic

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hoseoksluna · 7 months ago

Text

BERRIES | jjk ft. jhs

pairing: ex-boyfriend!jungkook x oc (feat. hobi)

genre: angst, tiny fluff, itty bitty smut

word count: 6.0k

summary: your ex-boyfriend shouldn't have this much influence over you when you have a new man, should he?

playlist: berries / pinterest board: berries

warnings: depression, daddy issues, use of titles, oc has dirty thoughts about hobi (do we blame her? no, we do not), slowburn, implied sex, dd/lg, soft argument

note: this took every last bit of my strength, so i had to split it up. i'm sorry if this is a piece of absolute shit, but as you all know work this week squeezed everything out of me and i'm so exhausted that i'm not even sure if this is worth posting. i struggled a lot with this fic, rewrote it multiple times, and i'm so very happy that it's finished. i hope you all enjoy the start of a new series, this time a slowburn that will have more parts, more depth and everything. and surprise! it features hobi, my beautiful husband. it was my first time writing about him and he's missing so terribly from my soul that it was one of the reasons why i struggled so much. i wish it weren't like this for my first time with him, but oh well. i hope you, guys, enjoy. please, let me know what you think. <3

The satiny material of your cream-colored dress must be the one and the same that these sculptures had worn centuries ago. You can almost imagine the softness kissing your fingerprint instead of the cool stone as you graze your touch against each and every immortalized angel of loveliness. You’re stirred by a sense of poignancy—that you’re alive and they’re not and yet you believe that as you stare at them, feel what they’ve been through the more you study their eternal expressions, they stare right back with their eternally tender eyes, see right through you, through your heart, know its contents. You wish you were in their place instead; you’re sure they would’ve handled your cursed life better than you can.

Or you wish you were as stony as them.

But you’re an opulent fountain of emotions that are anything but gentle.

This thought distracts your attention from the way your feet ache in the boots you chose to wear to impress your date. Thigh high, with black knee socks underneath to keep you warm from the cruel breath of autumn. Hoseok is carrying your trenchcoat as you’re adventuring on your own in this art museum and that’s the only sliver of kindness he’s shown you this very morning.

The only compliment you’ve received from him was a nonverbal one. An up and down look with a smirk creeping in when he picked you up at your apartment. No hug, no caress. You felt so small—and awkward a little bit, comparison rushing in. Not in the form of a wave of the sea, but in the form of a snake, its thick body tightening around your throat. An ouroboros, which made you regret going out on a date so soon.

It hasn’t even been a month since you’ve become a single girl again, learning how to walk in this new, harsh reality, your legs wobbly, weak and too, too heavy. And the lack of comfortable physical contact made you see your ex-boyfriend before your own eyes, the memory of how he acted at the beginning of your first date. The way he picked you up into his arms due to his excitement of being with you and carried you inside his car. He put on your seatbelt for you. Drove carefully. Held your hand as he led you to the restaurant he picked for you. Even during the walk after while you talked about the stars and you couldn’t help but tell him that his eyes were filled with them.

Hoseok did neither of those things. He had asked you where you wanted to go and you’ve wanted to visit the museum for quite a while, so you suggested it. He had agreed, no sort of enthusiasm evident in his voice muffled by the phone call. And you’ve barely exchanged a few words during the half an hour of your time spent here, let alone led an entire conversation. You should’ve heeded the warning when it was right in front of you.

Hoseok is certainly not of the artistic kind.

Looks quite bored as you turn your head to look at him, your coat dangling from his arm so terribly devastatingly. And when you focus your gaze to your right, where a dark wine-tinged room, with golden frames of paintings, awaits you and where you’ve longed to go the moment you stepped a foot inside this grand building, a distaste pools on your tongue, your former aesthetic elation ruined.

You’re surprised he didn’t stand you up.

You don’t even want to take pictures. As a matter of fact, you want to go home. But you can’t. Can’t ravage your only possibility and means of forgetting the person you still love. Can’t really encourage Hoseok to leave your life, not when you’re the type of person that doesn’t find love upon every corner you turn to.

This is your only chance. And he’s the only man you’ll conceivably have in your life for quite some time.

You walk up to him and take your coat from his arm. His eyes deepen on you, in fact they haven’t strayed from you during the entire half an hour—and that bothers you. If your ex-boyfriend were here, he’d share the beauty with you. Make you laugh so hard that the sound would echo around the vast room. Perhaps give life to the sculptures and they would laugh along, too.

Your heart hangs heavy in your chest, sinks ever so slowly and you can’t bear it. You need to leave. Take this date elsewhere, hope for betterment to grace you—to have but a fragment of pity for you.

“You hungry?” you ask, softly, willing your voice to be smooth and not divulge the brassy storm of your emotions to him. Hoseok doesn’t know anything about you. Doesn’t know that you yearn for another person to be standing in his place. “Did you have breakfast?”

Hoseok needed the date to be in the early hours. Said he had a meeting in the afternoon. Would be working on a project with his colleagues until the late hours. You didn’t mind, not really, in fact it animated you—brought briskness into the sadness of your headspace, knowing it was rainy and cloudy outside. Perfect weather for the influence of the arts. That is, until you realized that it was a grave mistake to take a businessman to a museum; that you dragged a heathen to a church.

Hoseok shifts his weight on each foot, his shoulders swaying with the movement, and he licks his lip, bringing your attention to them. Small, but full—you wonder what they would feel like against yours. Wonder if he’d be gentle with you or violent. If he’d stroke your hair or grip it; fondle the ribbon you’re wearing in a half up do or untie it, entirely. Use it for another means like your ex-boyfriend invariably did.

Your distaste grows, but not for Hoseok. It grows like poison ivy for yourself and your tendency to compare him with someone he doesn’t deserve to be juxtaposed with.

Guilt blossoms in your sternum, the leaves of that poison ivy. Pretty to the eye, but deadly for the body. Just like you. You’re too baneful for such a pretty man like Hoseok. You’d do well to respect his boundaries and abstain from physical contact, prevent red rashes from marring his skin.

“I haven’t eaten yet,” Hoseok says, just as softly, rubbing the nape of his neck, the black cloth of his dress shirt taut over his arms—a pretty sight, one that could be hanging in the wine-tinged room for generations to gawk upon. “Truth be told, I was too nervous.”

A brief smile adorns his slender face and you melt, the poison ivy scratching you raw. Your heart picks up its rhythm, flattery clothing it in a protective layer and you pout, your hand itching to graze his forearm. But a hidden fight rises in you, an army of darkness ready with their bows, their arrows shooting thoughts into your brain about how little you’re worthy of such kindness and favor.

Though when Hoseok blushes upon seeing your tender expression, it gives you some sort of strength to stand tall against those demons. Despite the fact you don’t understand it, you don’t question it either and you cling to it, sensing its freedom speaking to you in a foreign language. A yearning forms in you, one you haven’t yet had the possibility of meeting. A yearning to learn its syntax and vocabulary. And when you give in to it, the poison ivy in you lessens.

This is good.

You reciprocate his smile and you coo. Find it the easiest thing in the world. And because you’re so grateful for what he’s unwittingly done for you, you decide to share your truth with him as well.

“Let’s go eat, then.” Your eyes crinkle and you’d bet light flickers in them, for your whole body does, you sense it. A warm light enlarges on its axis, taking a hold of the heaviness you felt. “There’s no need to be nervous. It’s what I told myself when I was getting ready. My stomach hurt and believe it or not when I told myself these words, it stopped.”

Hoseok chuckles, his arm slapping back to his side, but you notice that it trembles. You’re so touched by it that you become angry at yourself, self-hatred clashing with that warmth. You misinterpreted him so unfairly and what’s more, you wallowed in your brokenness and your heartbreak, when Hoseok had been nervous and timid the whole time, which now sheds light on his lack of closeness with you.

You’re despicable. And the awareness of it transforms into that snake tightening around your throat again. Only this time, you welcome it. Long for it to take your life. It’s the least you deserve.

But you’re not letting yourself loll in the bed of your horrendous emotions. No, you lift your hand and you caress his arm, the one that quakes. And amidst the sepulchral attention of the sculptures, you’re a witness to that trembling’s halt, to Hoseok’s visible tranquility, and you want to weep.

You know if you were to gaze at the eternal angels of beauty, you’d see stony tears appear on their ivory cheeks, too.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok mumbles and you curl your brows in confusion, not knowing what he’s apologizing for. Hoseok opens his mouth again to speak, but he pauses, sloshing the words in his mouth. You feel so bad that a craving to better yourself overcomes your entire being. “I’m sorry for being such a buzzkill. If you wanna explore this place more, we can. I saw you looking at the room with the paintings.”

He tilts his head in the direction of the aforementioned room, but you care very little about it as of now. You’d much rather take this elsewhere and get to know him better, so you don’t make the mistake of distorting him again. You’re not very keen on forcing a heathen to pray, either, however you do appreciate his willingness and attentiveness. Carry those things into your jarred heart, fold them inside its chambers, the edge pieces to the puzzle of his personality.

“Don’t worry,” you murmur, taking it one step further and hooking your arm around his. Hoseok sighs, his shyness slowly breaking apart as he clasps his hand over yours and if you could dissolve any more, now would be the perfect time for it. His hold is strong and steady—and it creates something stable within you, an orchard of fruit trees, pink and green, and bushes of berries, a safe place you want to rest in; lay down your brokenness and woes in. “You’re good. No need to apologize.”

His blush deepens at the reassurance and he smiles, softly, running his thumb over your knuckles. And the gratefulness you feel due to the fact he’s touching you, it is the rain that freshens up the apples and cherries hanging on the twigs of those trees, guiding it into full bloom. You focus on it—focus on the thick, cottony material of his dress shirt as you rub his forearm in response. You want to acknowledge yourself with the unspoken parts of him like these, remember them, allow them to heal you and crack the plaster over your heart.

And there you hear it. The crumble as Hoseok leans in and presses a chaste peck onto your cheek, lingering there for a second more, inhaling your sandalwood scent. And his smile widens as he looks down on you at such close proximity, erasing your touch-starvation once and for all. It’s your turn to blush now and you feel an inkling to shy away from his gaze, but you stifle it back. Curl your mouth in a smile—your heart thumping louder amidst the orchard now that it has more space to function in.

“No, I really want to apologize. It’s been too long since I’ve been on a date and you’re so stunning that I’ve forgotten my game, so I can’t help but to be nervous. I don’t know how to act around you,” he says, mutedly, punctuating his sentence with a breathy laugh, glimmering eyes flicking to the lining of your silky neckline just below your collarbones, tracing the miniature cherub hung up on your dainty necklace plated in gold, motionless against your dress. Your own heart grows wings and momentum in its place, fluttering in haste to move closer to him. He bores his gaze back into yours, letting it stay there. “Art isn’t really my thing, but you look like you belong here. Look like all those angels around.” He nods at your necklace. “And like that angel, too. Can I take a picture of you?”

You’re so taken aback that you don’t have time to respond. Pulling out his phone from the pocket of his dress pants, he withdraws from you and gently ushers you in the direction of the closest angel, your trenchcoat slung over his arm again, vibrating with life. He positions you how he likes—right in front of the immense sculpture, your head turned slightly to the side so the wisps of your white ribbon in your hair can be seen. His touch grounds you, tells your bloodstream, your organs that everything is okay, repeats it a little louder to your headspace—all before war could be declared with you.

Hoseok, the prince of peace.

The prince that crouches to the dirty floor so the vastness of the angel’s wings can fit in the shot. Yours, too. You think you’ve grown a pair of your own, alongside your heart, now that your shared honesty brought you closer.

You struggle to hold back your sob, to stop the corners of your mouth from rounding, your chin from quivering—all because the lightness that you sense wrapping over your heart is one you haven’t felt in a really long time. You feel taken care of, feel like you can depend on him, and while you can’t explain why you feel that way, you consider that such an immense blessing, regardless. So much that your eyes wet for the camera, but you don’t mind. Let that be captured in the memory—the mending that occurred. And let that be safe with him.

You smile and the flash goes off, which causes you to burst into giggles, your liquid softness forgotten, and run to him, your palm covering his phone camera so nobody sees his defiance. You look around to make sure no employee is in sight before you face him, cheeks warm, heart warm, wings warm, body warm. Hoseok quirks a brow, confused, gaping up at you from his position, and you take a deep breath to halt another inrush of laughter.

“You can’t take pictures with flash here. They’ll throw us out,” you whisper-shout, your giggles escaping your tightened mouth. His own forms into an ‘O’, fingers clicking on his screen, presumably turning off the automatic flash.

“I didn’t know,” he whisper-shouts back, mouth stretched in a lopsided grin. “I haven’t been here since I was a kid.” You shake your head, shoulders still shaking with the last of your giggles. He probably didn’t have a phone back then, which makes it even funnier. He inspects his settings again to make sure it’s all good before his hand finds your thigh and pushes you back. “Okay, I turned it off. Go back to the angel.”

It’s your whole body that flutters now, not just your heart, both pairs of wings unfurling, and when you retrace your steps, you still feel the heat of his touch—half on the fabric of your dress, half on your bare skin. And as you smile more naturally for the picture this time, greed kisses your core. A greed for more of his touch; on the same place as well as elsewhere.

A twinkle of where he could possibly touch you flashes before your eyes and it’s all your focal point consists of when you turn your head to your former position the way he wanted it and he praises you for it: “Good, good.”

Your muscles clench as you imagine his hand going underneath the fabric, exploring what’s hidden in there for him. The words of praise he would utter at the discovery of your private flesh. Your ears must be red. Such a twist of events you didn’t expect. A meek form of demureness creeps in, enveloping you in a feminine sensuality and you’ve missed feeling this way. Missed feeling pretty and alluring for yourself first, then for a man second. Missed being the center of your attention like this, of someone else’s as well.

You’ve always loved it. Perhaps due to the fact that you very seldom have it—so when it does come, it changes your life and you attach your being to it.

You didn’t anticipate going home with Hoseok, especially not on the first date. But because you’re being fed, you don’t really care about being proper. You want to go home with him and so you simply shall.

Can’t let the opportunity run away from you.

And so you arch your back a little bit more, look up at the angel and give her your silent thanks, your hair flowing around your form when you flick your gaze back to Hoseok to see him concentrated on the task, his smooth features gravely serious. Your stomach flips.

“Now from the back,” he instructs without lifting his eyes off of the screen of his phone. “Just like you were.”

A breath lodges in your throat, the double meaning burning the poison ivy down to ashes and you swallow it, let your stomach acid consume it until there’s nothing left of it, until all that your body carries is nothing but the lightness and the seductiveness that Hoseok gracefully gave you, the comfortable heft of the wings that grew because of him.

It’s those things that drive forth your following words with the world’s ease, unabashedly.

“You want it from the back?”

Hoseok’s mouth parts and the look he exchanges with you should chill your blood, but it doesn’t. If anything, it boils it. The heat that wafts off it pools in your core before ascending to your imaginary wings, leaving them dripping with sweat and the dew of titillation. Hoseok’s eyes narrow, shadowed by the furrow of his brows, encouraging it all the more.

There is it—the heady energy shift, permeated with the sweetest of berry juices, stemming from lust, from the orchard he planted in you. Strengthening your allure, steeling you from head to toe. You submit to it; kneel into it, notionally. Your elation raises from the dead—and you grin.

“Behave.”

A pulse in your private parts. The lengthening of your expression of delight. Your wings, your muscles clench and the same winged creatures soar to your heart from your stomach, squeezing the beating flesh. You swivel on your heels, the hem of your dress rippling, exposing more of your tender skin, the ribbon in your hair following suit.

Hoseok sucks in a breath. Your cheeks ache from the joy’s strain and it is utterly exhilarating to you.

“Yes, sir.”

Hoseok coos his approval and you can’t take it anymore. You let him take a few more pictures as you move around, dancing in your own way, running your fingers through your hair, trying to distract yourself from the throbbing between your legs, but to no avail. And when you sigh and face him head-on, Hoseok is already on his feet, walking towards you with a reappearing lopsided grin that forces the butterflies gnawing at your heart to go absolutely rampant.

You’re done for. You need to take him home. You’re not even curious about how the pictures came out—you can always look at them later.

Hoseok seems to know about your neediness because when he crosses the distance, he cups your chin. Makes you look up at him. And his smirk deepens while your heart increases in size, wings flitting at the special attention.

“Such a pretty girl,” he murmurs, caressing your skin with his thumb. Your eyes round and the heat you feel is sweltering underneath your clothes. All the more reason for him to take them off. “The pictures are great. Wanna see?”

Biting your lip, you shake your head, briefly. “What I want is to make you breakfast,” you say, mirroring his tone, hoping he gets the hint.

Hoseok waggles your chin, humming. “Oh, yeah?”

Fuck. If his scolding already didn’t make you submissive, then his response and his actions have. You wet your mouth, teeth instinctively sinking back in, and only nod. Hoseok opens your coat and covers your shoulders in its warmth, pressing the cotton twill fabric against your sternum.

“Thank you, sir.”

A fond sound pours out of him and the fact that he likes to be called by that title heightens the pulse between your legs. “Let’s go.”

He leads you towards the exit with a hand on the small of your back and you’re so happy to be touched at last that with a final look at the angels, you send out your silent love and goodbye to them, thank them one last time for the kindness you received because of them, one that you so ferociously sought after and longed for.

They seem to bow to you, happy to be of service, and you smile so profoundly that you feel as though nothing could stain your joy and mar it all over again. They wouldn’t allow that to happen—and a tendril of hope burst open within you like sunlight tearing through clouds, one that is suffused with the notion that Hoseok would stand in the way, side by side with those sculptures, too.

And he does when you swivel your head back and catch a glance of someone you know.

A piercing on the side of his brow, unchanged from the last time you saw him. Round eyes, murky. Ashen complexion that used to bloom with vibrant tints. Full, soft-toned mouth, ever so stuck in that pout, one you used to kiss until it bruised.

Your bloodstream doesn’t cease its flow. Not until you notice the person beside him.

A girl with an aura so cataclysmic that it forces you to stop dead in your tracks. An August night storm personified, obnoxiously sweet-smelling of the past summer that you spent with her companion. The hollow, funereal scent of a meadow doused in petrichor—she walks with it, her hands intertwined before her in a clasp.

You wished for him to be in Hoseok’s place so ardently that he appeared. And now that you contemplate him, the lack of distance between him and the girl, it makes you regret that you ever did.

Because, unknowingly, it drenched you in gasoline and his presence is a lighter, hers the hand that has flicked it to life and now serenely holds it against your skin, waiting until the flames, little by little, devour you whole.

And the job is finished when both of their heads whirl, meeting your livid stare.

And Jungkook, too, stops dead in his tracks.

“Do you know him?” Hoseok asks and you find it strange that you can hear him when all you can see is red.

And the red fades into the matching black shirt that Jungkook is wearing, into his bluntly pained mien; into the strands of his date’s short hair and her scrunched up brows as she regards you with a strong aversion that makes you scoff. And the same red weakens when Hoseok turns your attention to him by playing with the ends of your ribbon, grazing them before twirling them around his finger.

A breath of fresh air, he is.

You don’t know what to say. Don’t know whether to tell him the truth or come up with something that won’t devastate what you have currently going on with him. But if you lie to him, you’ll stumble into a dead end you’d much rather stay clear of. You’d see it before your eyes once you do take him home and it would ruin the newness he brought up with you, preventing it from taking root in you.

Devastation awaits you in either case. Both you and Hoseok.

Cursed, your life is. Doomed, absolutely fucking doomed.

What would the angels do in your place?

Seeking their wisdom behind you, it is not in them that you find your answer, but in the passing pair dressed in black, making their way over to the dark-wined room. He’s pretending he didn’t see you at all, walking away from you without saying a word, despite the fact you broke up on good terms.

You worshiped him in this very building almost on your knees and he dismissed you as if you meant nothing to him, caring for the feelings of his date, instead.

Peculiarly, the sentiments Hoseok installed in you, both of the passionate and the soft kind, turn that fire blue and it becomes the driving force that guides you to act without a single thought spared.

“Yeah, I do know him. Do you mind if I quickly say hi to him?”

The corner of Hoseok’s mouth curls and he caresses your hair down your back one last time. “Go, I’ll get the car ready.”

Such a confident, strong man, broken out of the confines of his former timidness. Not possessive, nor insecure—letting you do what you want. Respectful of your personal life that doesn’t include him just yet. And for that very reason it will—as soon as you’re done putting out that fire in you.

It’s not only you that has gone through a change upon this hour and it strikes your awe, enough for you to lean in and peck his cheek, just like he did to you.

Hoseok makes a sound of endearment, pivots on his feet to leave you to it, but you grab a hold of his hand. Have a need to say something to him.

His brows rise at the attention and you brush your hand across his knuckles, mimicking his previous actions, having learned them, intimately.

“Thank you, Hoseok. Really,” you say with a smile that could magnetically pull the sunlight out of its hiding place behind the clouds and bathe this bizarre room in light. You squeeze his hand.

A swirl of shyness flushes his face in rose pink and he shakes his head. “No need to thank me,” he assures, reciprocating the smile. “And call me Hobi. You can save Hoseok for later.”

Your jaw falls open and Hoseok chuckles, warmly, deepening the pulse between your legs until a wet spot adorns your panties beneath your dress, one that you look forward to showing him at the aforementioned time.

He pivots again and you watch his tall, lean figure leave. Back muscles clothed in black, straining against the fabric. He must’ve undergone his military service.

A beautiful man. You can’t wait to taste him. Taste that manliness.

Loosening a breath, you turn around to search for your ex-boyfriend. And much to your dismay, he’s appreciating the angel sculpture—the very one and only Hoseok took your pictures with. Fire licks at your every nerve ending, but then you notice that his date is nowhere in sight.

A perfect opportunity to do what you want to do.

Pulling out your phone out of your little purse, you look for his name in the history of your calls and tap on it, placing the device against your ear, your hoop earrings clashing against the screen. You watch him palm his pocket as the vibration disturbs his aesthetic pleasure and he casts a long glance at your name filling up his screen. Doesn’t comb his gaze through his surroundings. No, he seems to be transfixed by the twist of events and when he swipes his finger to accept the call, his stare begins to dig a hole into the dirty, marble floor.

Doesn’t say anything.

You scoff, fury grazing your fire. “You’re pretending not to know me? That’s low.” His pout rounds and the tip of his shoe traces the edges of the ruination he’s caused. Remains silent. “Who’s your little girlfriend? I thought you’d introduce me. Where is she, anyways?”

It’s him who scoffs now and he flicks his gaze towards the face of the angel. It’s like he’s staring right at you. “You shouldn’t be doing this, little one.”

The too familiar pet name brings agony to your heart and you would break had Hoseok not given you his strength, if the dependability of him waiting for you outside wasn’t real. And the allure and the lightness in you, perhaps the very love of the sculptures encompassing you—all of those things only vivify your solidity. You have no reason to break, you’re safe.

“Well, I think you should be a good Daddy and meet me right there in the red room,” you seethe, glad for the anger to be lingering in you, for the utterance of the title leaving you unscathed. You’re just giving him a taste of his own poison, nothing else.

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair and sighs, clenching his jaw. “Don’t call me that.”

You chuckle, enlivened by the provocation. “I can do whatever I want. Besides, you started it.”

He grits his teeth. “Not when you’re talking to me, you can’t.”

Your fire rises in overwhelming waves, your curt response ready on your tongue, but Jungkook hangs up, making you shut your mouth, instantly.

You hate him for that; hate him with the entirety of your being.

What has happened to your friendship? To the sweet, weeping Jungkook who broke up with you because he didn’t want to cause you any more pain with the state of his mental health, who has been dealing with depression for so long that he’s reached a point of no return, a lightless room with no windows, where all he saw was you, and he didn’t want you to be a victim of such unhealthy attachment. So he bid you goodbye, hugged you until you couldn’t breathe and let you go.

Three weeks ago.

You haven’t seen him or heard from him since until now. Until you’ve found someone else and moved on with your life. That’s just your luck.

And now the person you’re gazing at, it’s not the same one that wept against your chest. Yes, he might have been strict with you during intimate times, teased you with his fatherliness during the day even—but that invariably was imbued with the mellowness of love.

Try as you may while his words ring in your headspace, you cannot unearth any trace of that same mellowness in it. Only bitterness, coldness and a profound darkness.

Jungkook pockets his phone and, leaving both of his hands there, sunk deeply, he walks over to the wine-tinged room, his frown obscuring the place in gloom. Murky clouds, personified. A perfect match to the storm of his companion. Bile lodges inside your throat.

You follow after him, your feet aching terribly in your boots, but it serves as some kind of alleviation to the tautness of your emotions, of your confusion, disgust and offence. Makes you feel better—because once you see Jungkook ogling a certain painting of a woman beaming at him softly, dressed in flowers, blues and greens as the redness akin to your fire burns in her background, the agony tries to slither its way inside your heart, but fails.

You’re a locked orchard.

Jungkook senses your presence and he swivels, biting the inside of his cheek, pierced brow quirking. There’s a strain to his shoulders and his Adam’s apple bobbles as he takes in your appearance. The creaminess of your short, silky dress, the darker shade of the same color of your trenchcoat slung loosely over your shoulders, exposing your brown, leather, high-heeled boots, your matching purse clutched in both of your hands as you strut towards him. Calm, all of a sudden. It does nothing to you, nothing whatsoever—your heart momentarily attached to Hoseok.

“I thought you’d already left,” he murmurs, tipping up his chin. Begins to sway back and forth on the balls of his feet, the carmine hues of the room swathing him in a deeper shade of darkness. “Isn’t your boyfriend waiting for you?”

You don’t bother to correct him. It’s none of his business who Hobi is to you, not when he treated you like a stranger.

“We were about to leave, but then I saw your actions,” you say, quite monotonously, your calmness as disturbing as it is triumphant. You yourself even wonder at it. “What the fuck was that?”

A smirk. “Glad to know I still have some kind of effect on you.”

You scrunch up your brows, distaste once again pooling in your mouth. “Trust me, I would’ve done this with anyone I know. You’re not special.”

His smirk widens. “So, you’re not jealous?” He rubs the side of his jaw, staring at you, intently, and disgust comes over you like a splash of a wave, soaking you in cold sweat.

He did it for that very reason—to make you jealous. Walked right past you, just to get a rise out of you. As much as you loved him half an hour ago, that affection turns into dust within you, sprinkling the fruit trees and the berry brushes with its gray smithereens, poisoning them.

Ouroboros, all over again. Full circle. Anger covers your disgust.

A voice echoes within the room. Airy and light, as feminine as it is otherworldly, and you know, without a doubt, who it belongs to. It doesn’t suit her, not in the slightest.

“There you are,” your ex-boyfriend’s companion trails off, the clapping of her flat shoes halting. “Who are you?”

You only turn your head to the side, signaling to her that you’ve heard her question, because you fix your stare back at Jungkook as you answer it. “It’s not something you should trouble yourself with. Can you give us a minute?”

You don’t hear any movement, so she must be stubbornly staying where she is. All right, she can join the conversation for all you care.

When you turn your head back around, you catch stars oozing from Jungkook’s eyes, a conveyance of adornment painting his face in gentle colors that could never be associated with this room. There it is, the face you know, so resplendent of the one you last saw. And it grazes your anger, whispers to it that it was a mistake, a game of pretense, because you’re reverently acknowledged with his soul—you know who he is. While it may explain his fucked-up behavior, you don’t soften. Not at the hint of familiarity. Not even at the hushed hint of your deduction telling you that the reason why he unmasked himself was because you chose him and didn’t run away when his companion spoiled your short time together.

You don’t soften because you simply don’t want to.

You don’t want to give in to any means of getting close to him.

The chapter is finished. You shouldn’t have called him. You should’ve left with Hobi.

You don’t wish to keep him waiting long, nor do you wish to keep sprawling in your mistake. You pivot, ready to leave, but Jungkook captures your hand. Desirousness palpitates in his eyes as if he, too, needed to tell you something of urgency.

You’ll hear him out, but that’s the end of it.

“Can I see you later?” he asks, pupils growing in size until they absorb his chocolate irises, his grip over your hand tight and heated. A wind blows in your orchard, sweeping away all the darkened smithereens left by the bane, freshening you up.

You don’t really think that’s a good idea.

“I won’t have time for you later, I’ll be with Hoseok.”

To Hobi, you won’t lie, but the same can’t be applied to Jungkook.

His breath hitches in his throat, disappointment weighing him down, the thought of you being intimate with someone who is not him causing his posture to slouch even more.

But he surprises you with the words he says next.

“I’ll wait, then. Let me know when you’re alone.”

And you surprise yourself even more when you nod, turning on your heel and scurrying off to meet Hobi outside.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah.

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byuljoonie · 1 year ago

Note

Give me possessive koo smut 😇

pairing: dom!jk x fem!reader

genre: smut, drabble, request, unedited

word count: 2k

warnings: smut, drinking, lots of swearing, oral 4f, overstimulation, mocking, couch sëx, rough missionary, unsafe sëx, degradation, biting, slapping, squirting, bruising, hair pulling, dom!jk, sub!reader, a little toxicity, idk Sunday fun day ig

note: hope it’s to your liking♡ -dubu

“Unlock your phone.” Jungkook’s eyes pour into yours as he waits for your compliance.

“What?” you question, aggravated by his unnecessary interest in your coworkers.

“Open it, Y/N.” he insists, leaning back onto the sofa cushion, pressing the cold rectangle into your palm.

“Babe, seriously?” you whine, searching his eyes for a hint of playfulness, finding nothing but an ocean of severity.

You were having a conversation about work, letting your boyfriend know of your upcoming schedule and activities. You accidentally let the name of your project partner slip through your wine-coated lips.

Jungkook’s ears perked up at the ring of a masculine sounding name. You stare at him in defeat, taking the phone from his hand with a pitiful sigh.

“I haven’t even texted him yet, for Christ sakes Jungkook!” you say exasperated.

“Yet.” he replied matter-of-factually.

“It’s not like I chose to work with him, Koo.” you exclaimed dramatically, unlocking your phone and going to his saved contact.

You felt this antagonizing creature clawing at your tender insides for momentary satisfaction. Why did you let the wine talk before your instincts? Jungkook isn’t exactly the kindest when it comes to other men around you.

He wasn’t controlling, but his possessiveness was like an amplified speaker to anyone who even thought of sparing you a second glance.

You hated to admit it, but it was hot. The veins on his tattoo covered arms bulged with a vengeance. Each intricate pattern defining his Herculean figure.

The white T-shirt not leaving much to the imagination, your eyes lingered on his pierced lips as you passed the phone over. Earning a hum of approval from him, he tapped away on your phone.

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. You already follow him on Instagram?” he rhetorically asked, a mound of annoyance behind his darkening pupils.

“I follow all of my coworkers, Kookie.” you complained hesitantly, downing the rest of the red liquid that swirled in your large Burgundy glass.

“Listen, I don’t want you working with him. Simple.” he admitted, pressing the unfollow button on Hoseok’s profile.

You were beyond infuriated, you snatched your phone back pressing the follow button in an instant. Not thinking about the consequences that follow your instinctual actions. Jungkook chuckled at your sudden burst of anger.

“Have you lost your fucking mind, Y/N?” he grabbed the phone from your hand, tossing it to the plush rug, letting it slide beneath your glass coffee table.

The wine made you drunk with rage, the other part of you craving a deeper need from your hellish boyfriend. Jungkook rose from his spot on the sofa, grabbing your neck and pinning you below him. He enjoyed the feeling of your palpitating heartbeat on his fingertips.

“Baby—“ you struggled to speak, legs clasping around his knee that rest atop your unclothed hips. Bad day to only wear his shirt, you thought to yourself.

“Shut up.” he glared down at you, putting pressure between your legs.

“Since you want to act like a pathetic slut —“ he pressed his knee down harder, rubbing your clothed pussy agonizingly slow.

“I’ll treat you accordingly.” he let your neck go finally, being met with a few strained coughs from you. You had no time to react, his shirt was being pulled from your body. Your head swimming with anticipation and thoughts of Jungkook’s defilement.

You felt dizzy and exposed to the harsh temperatures of your once comfortable living room. Jungkook watched you writhing under him, a predatory smile lingering on his soft face.

“You think it’s okay to let him spend time alone with you?” he grabbed your face, pinching your cheeks between his large hand.

“Looking at you, speaking to you, touching you.” he peered over your naked body once more, eyes lingering on your bare chest, his free hand stopping above your panty line.

“All this —“ he began lustfully, “ is mine.”

He ripped your panties from your lower half, causing you to scream in frustration, fighting against his muscular arm. He let your face go, delivering 3 small slaps to your cheek. Putting you in check before he had to let whatever caged animalistic intentions loose.

“I’ve had enough of your resistance, Princess.” he whispered hotly in your ear, biting your earlobe before moving to the next ear.

“I can smell how wet you are from here, Y/N.” he bit down again, sending you into a frenzy of pathetic whimpers.

“Your cunt is crying for my attention, but you want to play with some loser?” he questioned cockily, rubbing his bare palm over your soaking pussy.

You moaned his name in retaliation, hips rutting upwards against his calloused hand. He laughed at your feeble attempts at gaining friction, pulling his hand away.

“I’m going to ruin you right here, baby.” A smirk tugged at his lips, he leaned back on the couch. Grabbing his glass from the table and downing what once was at half full capacity.

He sucked in a small breath, biting his bottom lip before turning back to you. Pulling his shirt over his head and revealing everything your eyes have been waiting for.

“I want to leave a trace of me on every inch of your body.” He stood up from his seated position, stalking over you like this was his last chance to consume you.

He yanked your ankles towards him, turning your body to face him like you were praying beneath him. Your legs hung carelessly over the edge of the couch, too dizzy to hold them up for your waiting beast. He smiled down at you in admiration, loving how ruined you already looked beneath him. Pussy leaking onto the sofa cushion, legs sprawled open for him.

“Look at you — so fucking gorgeous” he gleamed, kneeling in front of your body. He ran a hand over your stomach, letting his inquisitive fingers explore your skin.

“Fucking love your tits, Princess.” he leaned down beginning his assault on your chest, licking and sucking at your nipple like a love drunken mad man.

“More — please Kookie,” you begged, arms resting on his back, nails scratching in intricate motions. He hummed against your nipple, tongue circling the bud feverishly.

He pulled away with a lewd pop, spit dribbling down his chin. “No one’s mouth will ever feel as good as mine.”

He started kissing down the center of your chest, occasionally leaving love marks on your memorized sensitive spots. He stopped just above your panty line, loving the way your breath hitched in your throat.

He went in with a wink, tongue lapping at your exposed sensitive skin. His tongue searched your core for unanswered questions, gripping at your hips with every moan you released. He slurped against your clit letting lewd noises drown out the sound of the crackling fireplace. He released one of your hips, bringing his hand down to open your lips. Exposing your clit to the invading muscle, he latched his lips around the bundle of nerves. You screamed in pleasure clasping your shaking legs around his head.

He removed his lips from your pussy, mouth shining with your essence. He worked two fingers over your clit, sliding them down until they hovered over your entrance. He grinned down at you before he inserted them, fingering you fiercely.

“Aww, who makes you feel this good? Hmm Y/N?” He cooed happily, “Who’s pussy is this?” He mewled, setting his fingers into a come hither motion.

“Y-yours—“ you cried out desperately, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten.

He used his free hand to slap your clit repeatedly, sending you into a crying mess. Your legs closed around his arm, body writhing against his unmoving fingers. He pulled you closer and closer to your orgasm, biting his lip in concentration, relishing in the sounds you were making for him.

“Cum, baby. I want to feel you cum on my fingers before I fuck the soul out of you.” he confessed sweetly, sickeningly sweet. You groaned at his words, letting the knot in your stomach burst. You felt stars cloud your vision as his fingers continued their actions.

He used his free hand to slap your pussy again, smiling at the way you cried out for him to stop. He kept going, moaning at your cunt clenching repeatedly around his fingers.

“Koo, please” you implored weakly, hiccuping along with a string of moans.

“Please what? Stop?” he questioned teasingly, “No.”

You felt another knot forming in your lower stomach, his fingers edging you closer to a stronger orgasm. Your stomach felt funny, it felt different, like a new sensation of pleasure was pushing through.

His urged you to cum, his fingers hitting your g-spot with ease. With a few last pumps, you felt yourself release on his fingers, screaming his name in shock. You stomach twitched continuously, opening your eyes to see the aftermath of what just happened.

You opened your eyes to see Jungkook’s lower face glistening with your mess, his pupils dilated and hungry for more. You felt your cheeks grow warm, not knowing what to say next, you’ve never done that before.

“Naughty girl, why’ve you never squirted like that before? Guess I should do better, huh?” He rose from his position on the floor, giving you a second to catch your breath while he removed his shorts.

His cock sprung free from its restraints, mushroom head aggressively leaking with pre-cum. “I want you to take this dick like the slut that you are,” he pumped his hand around his length, moaning at the way you lasciviously looked at him.

He lowered himself down until he was level with your center, rubbing the tip against your sticky folds. You granted him a pitiful whine, biting the corner of your swollen lip as you watched him rub against you.

“Use your words, Y/N. I won’t hold back unless you say it,” he probed, restraining himself from slamming his hips forward. You lay quietly looking him in his eyes, daring him to take you.

“Fuck —“ he pushed into you gradually, “squeeze my dick just like that,” he groans fingers pressing heavily into your hips.

“So big, just want you,” you moaned at him, pussy clenching around his cock again. He pulled away slowly, ramming back into your hips with brute force. His balls lewdly slapping against your skin as he fucked you into the sofa. He picked up his pace, rhythmically filling the room with grunts. He reached forward taking a hold of your hair and yanked your head back, biting your exposed neck. A light sheen a sweat coated your hot skin, beads of sweat running down your cheeks as he fucked you. The living room rang with filthy words of mocking betrayal and faux empathy for your overstimulated figure.

He pressed a hand down on your lower stomach, eyes nearly bulging from his head at the feeling of his cock invading your insides. His actions made your breathing increase, hiccuping over his name. His face contorting in immense pleasure as he demanded you repeat after him.

“Say it. Tell me you love me while you take this dick, Y/N.” you felt your hips aching, knowing marks already began forming on your body.

“I love you Jungkook—“ you cried out obediently, pussy convulsing around his stilled cock. Your orgasms rushing through your bodies. You shivered at the empty feeling you felt when he removed himself. He leaned down pressing a kiss on your neck, wiping some of the sweat from your foreheads.

“I love you too.” he smiled boyishly, breathing heavy and warm on your neck. “I’m taking you to work all next week, babe.”

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namfinessed · 4 months ago

Text

go around - j.hs.

genre: angst, fluff (childhoodcrush! brother'sbestfriend!) (8.2k)

summary: to everyone else, he was the sun but to you, he was always the moon, the light you grabbed onto when you could see nothing.

note: grief is something very close to my heart, i've always struggled with it but i'm slowly starting to learn to live with it, i hope everyone who's experienced loss feels like some kind of relief through this, thank you for reading <3

masterlist

hoseok was sixteen years old when it happened.

you were thirteen.

and he had thought he was too cool for you then.

you were sitting on the other side of the mary-go-round to him, it was the last but one day of the summer camp you were part of, and you looked at him as if he hung the moon in the sky.

and hoseok felt as high as the moon that night.

but he was also sick to his stomach.

"i like you," you didn't look at him as you said it but hoseok could feel that you meant it, that it took a lot for you to get on that mary-go-round with him, spin with him, build the moon in his eyes and then say the words that he believed were stuck in your throat since when you first saw him.

he knew that your brother wouldn't like that you were saying this.

but he knew, even as a kid, that this was the most honest thing anyone's ever told him.

but he was so cool and so close to your brother, who would kill him if hoseok said anything back.

so, he didn't say anything back.

hoseok pursed his lips and looked away. he swears that, to this day, the tears shining in his eyes were nerves and not the frustration that came with not being able to hold you to the moon too.

the silent rejection didn't yet hit your soft eyes and bare heart.

you kept looking at him, hands gripping the handles so tight that your knuckles changed shades between white and pink and your cheeks puffed, excited and nervous breaths still left your lips.

and hoseok didn't want to be cool for a second there, he didn't want to care about your brother at all, maybe he would just let you take him for a bit, just a bit.

but in your thin eyebrows, he saw your brother.

in your veiny hands, he saw your brother.

in your coily, curly hair, he saw your brother.

so, he got off the mary-go-round, he walked away quickly, not pausing to look at you and he sniffed his tears away, he hugged his jacket closer to his body.

tomorrow, he would be fine.

tomorrow, no one would look at him like he was the moon and he would be okay with it.

but hoseok turned around.

the biggest mistake of his life.

the moon you thought him to be, cast a glow on the tears gathering on your chin and his heart wrenched.

he would fix this, he told himself, he would fix all of this.

but the next day, your brother, his best friend, died.

and you never spoke a word to hoseok again.

everything was vibrant when hoseok stepped into your home.

the unkept gardens were now blooming with flowers.

the closed windows were now open and giving a glimpse into the light inside the house.

the home was back to being a home.

he’s seen the transformation take place with his own two eyes over the years and he could confidently conclude that the ten years that cloaked your family and home in darkness were finally nowhere to be found.

and hoseok felt both delight and unease at the development.

“oh honey, you came,” there were few people hoseok could recognize with how they breathed, and your mom, his second mom basically, was one of them.

he didn’t even get to greet her before he was wrapped in a hug that surrounded him with the scent of cinnamon, musky perfume, and somehow, still his best friend.

“of course i did, ma” he kissed the top of her head, his arms not letting her go even if he knew the time for an appropriate hug was up, and she knew it too but she stayed as long as hoseok held her.

and when he let her go, he had to look away from the tears touching her eyelashes.

he probably brought back memories of his friend, maybe he still smelt like his friend too, he doesn’t know but he’s glad if he does.

his best friend’s family was unlike hoseok’s, his own family was distant and cold, and when he became an adult, he cut off all ties with them, he simply couldn’t accept them as family and your mom never let him feel as if he didn’t have one.

“the place is really packed,” hoseok whistled, looking at all the new faces and your mom nodded, “she invited a lot of her friends, i don’t know them but it’s okay, they’re having a good time, you’re here, so it’s all good,” hoseok stiffened at your mention.

you didn’t see him once in the last ten years.

slammed the door on his face.

ignored him even when your mom screamed after you.

locked yourself in your room and never got out if it meant seeing him.

and hoseok learned to accept it, he wouldn’t hang out with him either, especially after what happened.

but it was your birthday and he was invited, by your mom or you, he has no idea but hoseok steels himself to see you at some point in the night.

then, he walks around, introduces himself, ignores the pity that people eye’s throw at him, ignores the sympathetic touches on his arm, ignores the pats on the back and the ‘he must’ve been wonderful to have as a friend’ and he nods because he can’t say that yes, his best friend was an incredible friend until he fucking died.

and suddenly, hoseok wants to punch his best friend, for leaving him with this room of people who didn’t know him but somehow had all the sympathy in the world to shove in his face, for leaving him with no option but to mourn and miss him.

but hoseok was never a good mourner, he was good at going about life normally, good at laughing, good at ignoring his feelings, hoseok wasn’t good at gathering tears in his eyes when he thought of his dead best friend.

after a while, hoseok excuses himself to the bathroom and finds himself in his friend’s room, which remains frozen in time. every poster he hung up, though peeling at the edges on the wall, still stayed, every photo he stuck on top of his bedpost was yellow and faded but again, they stayed.

he doesn’t know how long he stares at their photo, the one they took in the summer camp where hoseok’s head is too small and his arms too thin and wrapped around his friend.

when he ran his fingers over the photo, he didn’t feel anything, he was grazing over hazy memories that he was desperately trying to remember as he got older but they were all slipping away or holding on too tightly at times.

“what the fuck are you doing in jay’s room?”

and he snatches his fingers away from the photo.

as he turns around, he swears he feels his heartbeat in his feet, and no amount of time could ever prepare him to face you.

you’re standing at the door with your arms crossed so defensively over your chest that he’s scared to take a single step forward but something about you, as a sixteen-year-old back then and now, a twenty-six-year-old, always takes his breath away.

and you look so much like jay, from the eyes to the hair to the hands, that he has to look away to breathe again.

“hey,” is all that comes out of hoseok’s mouth and he knows he deserves it when you roll your eyes at him.

“you’re not going to slam the door on me?” he asks and to his surprise, you shake your head, “not this time, my mom might just kill me,” you say while entering through the door and hoseok awkwardly steps around the room to reach where you sit on the bed.

he’s not sure how to feel about your mom having to force you to meet him.

and he’s not sure if he will ever be ready to see you again.

maybe you should’ve slammed the door one last time.

“happy birthday, big numbers now,” hoseok sits five feet away from you on the same bed and he watches your face soften the slightest, “thank you, and yeah, twenty-four doesn’t feel real,” you weakly laugh, falling on the bed and letting your feet dangle off the edge.

“your friends seem fun,” he stayed alert on the edge of the bed, and you nodded half-heartedly, “i guess so, did you meet them?”

“yeah, i said hi and stuff,” hoseok played with his fingers as you sat up again, “they brought up jay?”

“um yeah, they seemed to be very...empathetic about it,” he said, he didn’t know how else to say that your friends' reactions almost made him want to leave the party.

“yeah, they don’t know how to react to dead brothers or best friends, they’re not too bad though,” you laugh again and hoseok just nods, looking away.

for a moment, there’s only silence.

there’s only your breath and his.

there’s only your heartbeat and his.

and hoseok had missed this, he had missed you.

“can you believe it’s been ten years?” he asks because he can’t, he still feels as if it was yesterday that he got the phone call from you.

“i can,” you whisper, “time has been slow for me, so i can,” you’re the one looking away this time and hoseok catches your eyes roaming on the photos stuck above jay’s bed.

“do you want to go downstairs?” you get up from the bed and meet his eyes properly for the first time since you entered the room and he can do nothing but nod.

just before you step out the door, hoseok grabs your hand, immediately dropping it as you stop, “a-are you okay?” he didn’t want to ask you the question that he knows everyone else did but he also wouldn’t sleep that night without asking.

but when you laugh and disappear downstairs, hoseok ends up not sleeping anyway.

“thank you so much for coming by,” hoseok shook his head at your mother with the broadest smile and sweat coating his forehead, “of course ma, you can call me whenever you need help,” he pressed a kiss on the top of her head as he passed her and she pushed her face into his arm.

your mom owned a local restaurant and usually, handled everything from deliveries to cooking to serving and hoseok had chastised her multiple times about it.

even now, looking at the full restaurant, hoseok knew he couldn’t leave her to it.

so, after pushing her into the kitchen, he manned the counter for a while and made light conversation with whoever came by.

it felt strange, after so many years, being back around jay’s family, being back in this restaurant where he spent many days and nights.

he shook his head, refusing to let the memories creep back in.

he was used to this, this was just a routine to him, he always helped out, and he knew jay would do it if he was here.

“she loves you a lot already, you don’t have to do all this,” your voice isn’t something he’s used to though, not here, and hoseok’s palms start sweating immediately.

fuck.

he didn’t even put on a good outfit today.

or even perfume, now that he thinks of it.

and he curses himself when you come into view.

“i do this because i love her a lot,” he says with a smile and you roll your eyes, “yeah i know, it’s annoying,” and he frowns, “why?”

but you just wave a hand at him and go into the kitchen.

and hoseok’s left with ten people waving their bills and money at him, so he plasters a smile on his face and continues working.

after some time passes, you come back out from the kitchen with a scowl on your face and hoseok knows this because he hasn’t stopped his eyes from flickering between the kitchen door and the counter in front of him.

“i’ve got it from here, move,” you bark at him as you reach him and hoseok’s frown deepens at you, “it’s only a couple of people, i’ll finish it, don’t worry,” he reassures you but it only seems to irritate you.

“this isn’t your job, hoseok, just move over,” the glare on your face makes hoseok throw his hands up in the air and step away from the counter.

and he goes to the kitchen, he hugs your mom goodbye and he doesn’t bother with saying anything to you while he leaves because he’s sure you will only curse at him. he’s too exhausted today.

but imagine his surprise when the clock strikes midnight, you are at his door with a few soju bottles, snacks, and a sheepish smile on your face.

what the fuck were you doing at his home?

“um, hi?” he adjusts his t-shirt as he greets you, suddenly too aware of his messy hair and pajama pants as his heart once again beats away from his body.

“can i come in?” you ask sheepishly, and he immediately moves away. as you look around his apartment, hoseok still finds it hard to believe that you’re here.

even as you set up the table with soju glasses and food, he can only follow you in a daze.

“come, sit,” you say as if it wasn’t his home, his table, and his chairs but hoseok obliges and sits down.

a few minutes pass with both of you just fidgeting, looking at and away from each other, scratching your necks, and rubbing your fingers together.

until you finally grab the soju bottle and inch toward him.

you take a deep breath in and hoseok lets one out, “i shouldn’t have been so rude at the store, it’s just,” you speak as you pour soju into a shot glass for him and he sits up in his seat, “jay used to be there all the time.” you swallow, moving the bottle away from him and pouring one for yourself too.

“i was there all the time too, you know that,” hoseok says gently, as if to a child and you nod, “yeah, but it was always you and him, not just you.”

always you and him.

not just you.

and the memories that hoseok tried so hard to keep in his head, started creeping their way onto his sneakers and jeans and slipping away like sand.

the nights they snuck in to steal the leftovers.

the days he spent munching down on snacks that your mom generously gave him and jay.

the evenings where they both fanned each other with rolled-up magazines.

the days he spent admiring you at the counter.

but he couldn’t remember the dates, he couldn’t remember the details like what he was wearing that evening when jay hit him with a wooden fan, what was jay wearing when he got dumped by his girlfriend and cried to hoseok, what would jay think of this moment right now, you in front of him with a couple of soju bottles that were bound to be empty soon?

he shifted in his seat, “i won’t come over anymore, i didn’t know you felt like this,” and you purse your lips, “don’t do that, hoseok.”

“do what?” his eyebrows draw closer and you put down your glass to stare at him straight, “be so understanding and nice, just tell me to fuck off and deal with my shit instead of taking it out on you, hate me a little bit because this isn’t fair to you and you know that too.”

hoseok is stunned to silence for a second.

and he has a feeling that these words weren’t just some sudden outburst, you never spoke without letting your thoughts settle so he knows you’ve felt this for a while.

when he catches your wobbling lip and the way you shove food into your mouth to stop the movement, he knows he’s right and his heart softens even more.

“i’m not going to hate you for missing your brother, y/n.” is all he says before he slides your glass towards him and pours you a shot too.

and for a second, you just eye the glass and then look at him with tears so heavy in your eyes that hoseok is surprised they haven’t rolled down your cheeks.

“i think you’re the only one who doesn’t,” you suck in a breath and take the shot, you barely feel the liquid burn down your throat or the tears that finally release from your eyes.

when he raises his eyebrows at you, you shrug with a sniff and look away.

for the rest of the night, hoseok tries to forget that this was exactly how you looked on the mary-go-around ten years ago.

tears on your jaw.

flushed cheeks.

the same coily hair.

for the rest of the night, hoseok stops himself from falling in love again.

“again!” your mom threw her hands up in delight after winning one more game of ludo that hoseok had brought over.

you groaned and complained loudly to her, face held up by your elbow and hoseok watched with warm eyes as you and your mom argued about the win.

but he also felt acutely, the empty cushion next to him.

“you’re just a sore loser, learn a thing or two from hoseok,” your mom brought him back to the world, unscathed from his best friend’s haunting.

and hoseok nods proudly, dissolving into giggles when you scoff at him and your mom high-fives him.

“you’re letting her win,” you stare pointedly at him as your mom leaves to bring more snacks and hoseok shrugs happily, “guilty as charged,” and ducks with a laugh when a shower of peanut shells gets thrown in his direction.

“i knew it!” you screeched and he fell onto the floor with a belly full of joy, “mom, i told you, he was letting you win,” you stomped into the kitchen and hoseok heard more sounds of an argument from the kitchen, he rolled his eyes in endearment.

that night, you drop him in your car, and the entire ride, you’re laughing, he’s laughing, you’re speaking nonsense, he’s speaking nonsense, you’re falling on the seat to cover your face and he’s pulling his hands over his eyes to cover his face.

and at his door, you look at him with a face so free of everything.

no lines of worry on your forehead.

no frown between your eyebrows.

no hesitance to smile.

just a hint of moonlight falling over the right side of your face and some of your hair.

and hoseok wonders if he looks the same, if he looks just as beautiful and calm.

but when you keep staring at him with those curious, those tender eyes that he feels you reserve just for him, as if he has the answer to everything, as if he was the answer to everything, hoseok’s heart races in panic and buried love.

both of you realize at the same time, that ten minutes had passed and you were about two inches closer than you were at the beginning of the ride.

he stumbles out of the car, you stutter a goodbye to him and he nods hastily, urging you to leave.

that night, once again, hoseok begs himself to stop falling in love.

you only called him once in the many years that he’s known you and it was to tell him that jay had died, it was a freak accident, no one could’ve done anything and hoseok had thought that it was all a dream but your voice, as always, rang true in his ears and he knew that his life, as it was, would change forever.

“hoseok, i-it’s jay, someone hit him with a bike, i don’t know what’s going on, they’re saying they can’t read his pulse, please just come here, p-please.”

your sobs had shaken him so badly that he stumbled out of his camp cabin in his pajamas and he held your mom’s hand the entire time they tried to resurrect jay in the emergency room but once jay flatlined, your mom crumbled in his arms and you ran out of the hospital, you refused to look at him after that night.

and he understands why, he should’ve been there for jay, he should’ve made sure that his best friend didn’t go out for a walk that night or he should’ve gone with jay and been the one to get hit instead.

but it was all over now, and all hoseok was left with was a heavy heart filled with enough guilt for all the years he would live.

so when hoseok’s phone rang in the middle of the night with your name flashing on his screen, his brain unearthed the entire tragedy, the entire night with its roots pulled out of him and he was gasping for breath as he answered.

could it be that something happened to your mom?

did something happen to you?

did something happen to him and everyone else knew but him?

“she’s not letting us call her mom but she said your name, can you come to pick her up?” and twenty minutes later, hoseok pulled up to the only nightclub in the neighborhood to pick you up.

he struggled to hold back a laugh as he saw you draped over your friend’s arms, blissfully drunk, giggling, and utterly exhausted. when he started walking over to you, all of your friends began groaning and complaining to him about you which only made it harder for him not to laugh until your entire weight was shifted onto him and hoseok closed his eyes when you buried your face in his neck, savoring the tender moment.

just like every other minute that he’s alone with you, hoseok can’t believe this minute either.

“i’ve got her from here,” he says, carefully shifting your body to make you more comfortable and you hum in your drunken state, pushing your cheeks further into his collarbones and hoseok tries not to freeze.

“you should join us next time!” your friends all chime in together, their enthusiasm and kind intentions bleed around them and touch hoseok’s heart, maybe he had been too quick to judge them and hoseok gives in, nodding unsurely and they all erupt in cheers which makes him smile.

you had good people around you.

and that made him the happiest person in the world.

as he waves goodbye to them, his hands hold your body closer to him when you start to slide off and all of them exchange looks which hoseok ignores.

he carefully puts you in the passenger seat and pulls off the sidewalk.

he turned up the air conditioner, feeling his body get warmer and warmer as the seconds passed and he forces himself to look at the road and not you.

“hoseok?” the red light glowed on your face when he looked towards you, “yeah, it’s me, just taking you back home,” he doesn’t stop his hands from moving your hair away from your face and caressing your temples with his fingers.

how many years have passed with him missing you?

how many years of loving you has he missed out on?

he doesn’t know how jay would feel about this, maybe he would gag at hoseok’s tender eyes at this moment, perhaps he would tease him but he knows jay wouldn’t hate it.

hoseok pulls back almost immediately as you start to shift, only to relax when your face melts into his fingers.

if it didn’t feel so wrong, hoseok would’ve sat the rest of the night just looking at you and letting the rest of the world pass by.

“don’t take me to mom’s,” you whine and he laughs at your scrunched-up face, “okay, where do you want to go?”

“your’s,” you mumble, and hoseok’s face goes red, it takes him a few minutes and several cars honking at him to come back to earth.

when hoseok carefully lays you on the side of his body and takes you to his bedroom, he bears the torture of your arms tightening around his neck and the torture of your lips accidentally brushing on his skin.

“you like me, right?” you whisper into hoseok’s ear as he covers you with blankets on his bed and he freezes.

when he doesn’t respond, your eyes flutter open, still soft and fuzzy from the alcohol and you ask again, “hoseok, you like me, yes?”

and he’s taken back to the you that asked him out on a mary-go-around, the you that gave him the most honest confession of love in his life, the you that looked at him as if he ripped your heart out.

he nods, “of course i do, we’re family.” and you frown at him.

then, you sit up on the bed and lean forward to hold his face in your hands, hoseok starts sweating under the thin t-shirt he wore, and your fingers touch his face in places that he’s sure didn’t exist before, and every nerve of his melts and burns.

“i’ve always wanted to ask you something,” he says, now that there was no distinction between his breaths and yours and you nod, urging him to go on, “i thought i was always the one who had something to say,” you giggle, falling on his shoulder and hoseok laughs with you.

“why did you start talking to me again? after all this time? it can’t just be because of your mother,” and your laughter vanishes from the air around him, your touch too lifts from his shoulder, and hoseok’s confusion and curiosity grow.

he knows he’s asked the wrong thing, and said the wrong thing, he always does, but why would this question make you so upset?

he just wanted to know why after so many years of ignoring his entire existence, you suddenly chose to come to his home, and suddenly back into his life.

but he also loves that you’re back in his life.

“you don’t have to tell me, go to s-“ he gets up from the bed but is stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist tightly and he sinks back down beside you.

“my reasons are selfish, hoseok,” your tears come back and hoseok is rushing to wipe them away before they ever leave your eyes which only makes them gather faster.

“i don’t care,” he shakes his head and he really doesn’t.

“you should.”

“but i don’t.”

use him, don’t use him, throw him away, or keep him, he’s okay with it all.

your eyes search in his face, any trace of a lie, any trace of dishonesty and you find none that urges you to say, “i need you.”

a strange rush of warmth and bashfulness washes over hoseok as your words run him over.

“it hurts so much and i can’t do this alone, i need you, i just want it to stop hurting,” and hoseok’s heart stops at your broken voice because he knows what’s hurting you and nothing in the world can fix that kind of pain, “i don’t know how to live anymore, every time i come home, i miss him in the space next to my mom, i miss him in the counter that you stand at now, i miss him everywhere and i can’t say this to anyone.”

hoseok barely feels your hands grabbing his as your sobs climb up your throat, “except you, hoseok. no one knows what i feel, it’s pathetic that i miss him still but so do you, i know you feel this too, right?”

and he knows, he knows exactly what it feels like and he also knows that this was building in you since over the past ten years, the same way it’s been building in him.

that sense of loss that never goes away.

that sense of waiting for the relief that comes with moving on, that never came.

that sense of having nowhere to go and cry it out because the rest of the world doesn’t see what it’s lost, only he can and only you can.

“i do,” he finally choked out and your cries grew louder, hoseok winced at the volume and tapped your arms to calm you down but he was barely calm himself.

years and years of his grief catch up to him, run him over, trample over him and his mind ignites with every single second he spent with jay, every single he spent missing jay and then ignoring his memory.

all of it grabs him by the throat and chokes him but he lets your head fall onto his shoulder, and keeps his own tears away from his eyes as your body breaks on him.

when you were kids, hoseok had held you when you were laughing, he had felt your joy go through him, spread onto him, he could feel your happiness as if it was his own.

when you laughed in the car with him, the sound jogged his memory on how to laugh, on how to feel happiness again, he felt it go in and out of him in waves that he couldn’t control.

it was a miracle to him that just by touching someone, you can feel what they feel.

but now, holding you when you were crying, feeling every tear on his own skin, the burden of it all sunk him deeper than he could pull out of but he held you, he wrapped a singular arm around you and buried his head in your hair.

if anyone was going to know that he cried about jay, it was you and if anyone was going to miss jay with you, it was him.

and that night, he let himself fall in love.

the next morning, hoseok woke up with swollen eyes but a happy heart, a less lonely heart, he got up from the couch and entered his bedroom where he spent several minutes just staring at your face and stopped himself from kissing your cheek.

he stepped out of the bedroom quietly, padding his feet as gently as he could on the floor, and started preparing pancakes, hot chocolate, and everything else he could remember as something you liked as a kid.

hoseok couldn’t keep the smile off his face the entire time he whisked the batter, stirred the hot chocolate, and put out the plates. every moment that passed reminded him of you in his bedroom, it made him feel fuzzy and warm and ticklish, as if the sun had come to sit on his shoulder.

finally, his life was falling into place.

he almost jumped in excitement when the sound of his bedroom door creaking echoed throughout his apartment. he peeked around the corner to see you dragging your feet with even more swollen eyes than his and he stifled a laugh.

“good morning, pretty,” hoseok sang and giggled when your groan came as a reply.

“what’s all this?” your eyes barely opened to see the spread of food in front of you and he shrugged, “just some breakfast for you, did you take the aspirin beside the bed?”

you nodded and stood unsurely until hoseok got up and pushed you to sit down gently, “sit down, it’s all still hot, have it soon,” he kissed the top of your head and you stiffened under him.

hoseok quickly stepped away, laughing uncomfortably, and sat down as well.

for the next few minutes, he waited as you took in everything in front of you and his heart raced the entire time.

did he do too much?

was he moving too fast?

but he had already wasted so much time over the years, he wasn’t going to make the same mistak-

“why?”

hoseok frowns at your question, leaning forward to see if he heard it right but when he looks up, he sees your tear-filled eyes and he knows he’s fucked up somehow.

“w-what happened?”

“why are you doing all this?” he doesn’t know if you’re asking him or accusing him of something.

“what do you mean?”

“why.are.you.doing.this?” you punctuate every word with quick breaths and hoseok knows he’s pissed you off.

why or how he’s done that, he has no idea.

“i thought some food would be nice in the morning, especially with your hangover,” he stumbles over his words because he didn’t think he would ever have to explain why he made breakfast for someone.

you stay quiet.

he says your name.

once.

twice.

thrice.

then, you get up from the chair and look at him with both the most anger he’s felt in someone and also, the most pain, “i can’t do this,” you mumble and in the next minute, hoseok’s door is left wide open and your seat is empty.

he watches the food go cold and tries to hold himself together as he clears everything up, all the warmth he felt in the morning disappeared down the same drain that his food went.

and all he could was watch and let it happen.

weeks passed and hoseok dipped in and out of the restaurant, trying to see you, catch a word with you, and try to fix things, but whenever you saw him, you ran away.

whenever he waved to you, you would hesitantly lift your hand and then look away, engaging yourself with someone else.

whenever he called you, you wouldn’t pick up.

his messages remained on delivered.

and hoseok’s heart broke little by little as he saw you intentionally pull away from him.

he couldn’t understand why, you had such a beautiful night together, you had poured your heart out to him and he had done the same to you but somehow, it was as if that night didn’t exist to you.

maybe he read it all wrong?

maybe you just needed him as someone who felt the same as you, who experienced the same grief and here he was, his heart growing wings and the love he buried blooming again.

but you had loved him ten years ago.

and that confession was still fresh in his mind, still the most honest thing he’s heard in his life.

maybe he was stupid for ever thinking that you still felt the same love from ten years ago?

but as his mind replayed your words, ‘i need you’, it didn’t make sense to him that suddenly, you wanted to push him away.

“take these when you go home,” your mom packed him multiple boxes of side dishes and rice and everything else she could cook throughout the day and he nodded, thanking her with a kiss on her head, and headed for the door.

until he heard your voice.

his entire body froze at your presence.

but he’s had enough.

hoseok turned around and started walking with loud steps towards the kitchen, and when you came into his vision, he didn’t feel the warmth or the love or any of the good stuff.

he only felt the hurt that blinded him that morning, he only felt the pain spearing his heart as he threw everything away, he only felt the loneliness that played with him until the late hours of the night.

hoseok knows he’s not the best person but he also knows that he didn’t deserve that.

“you asked me that day, why i was doing all that. let me ask you now, why are you doing this?” he glared right at you, and in the corner of his eyes, he saw your mom glance between the two of you and then duck out of the kitchen.

he will apologize to her later.

in front of him, you tilted your head at him and tried to appear tough by crossing your arms across your chest and staring back at him.

but hoseok is past this, he’s tired of being lonely but he doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want to feel lonely when he’s in love.

“look, i don’t know what’s going through your mind and i never will until you tell me, but you can’t do this to me, you can’t push and pull whenever you like, i know you’re hurting somehow but i am too, so figure yourself out and then come to me because i know that i’m not alone in this feeling, i know you feel it too.”

with that, hoseok marched out of the kitchen, hugged your mom on the way out and went back to his empty home, where he might’ve felt lonely but he at least didn’t feel miserable.

you will hopefully find your way back to him.

but if you don’t, hoseok’s just going to have to find a way to be okay with that too.

days passed again and hoseok tried to move on.

you didn’t call or message or try to reach him and he took it as a rejection, which was still okay, he would still be okay.

he busied himself with his work, with your mom’s restaurant, and tried to learn how to cook, tried to liven up his apartment with knick-knacks, he took up arts and crafts.

hoseok did everything he could think of and for the most part, he really was okay.

but he also really wasn’t that okay.

he drifted through the days, pushed you out of his mind, and drank a bit from time to time to forget you only to hover his finger over your contact every night, he still kept the blanket you slept on in the corner of his room and not in the laundry basket where it should’ve been.

but still.

he was okay, he told himself, he would go back to some version of himself which was okay.

hoseok walked to the restaurant with his head down, earphones in and counted his steps because he had nothing else to do.

when he reached, he still didn’t look up, he continued to his counter where he removed his hoodie and put on an apron, humming to himself and cleaning the counter up.

until your mom’s shoes came into his view and by the time he looked up, she had grabbed his arm and started shaking him which made him frown.

he looked up to see her tear-streaked face and echoes of her sobs that traveled from her hands to him and the desperate shouts he could only see with his earphones in.

his hands shakily reached up to remove his earphones and then he heard it.

the heart-stopping cries and yells.

hoseok’s eyes went round with panic and he immediately grabbed her body as she fell onto him, he tried his best to soothe her but seeing her tears, was already choking him up.

he tried to keep his panic at bay as he patted her back and tried to make sense of her babbling.

what if something happened to you?

he couldn’t deal with that kind of grief; he wouldn’t survive it.

“she hasn’t picked up a single call,” something did happen to you, and hoseok bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his sobs.

“ma,” he grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look into his eyes, “please breathe with me,” she nodded, timing her inhalation and exhalation with him and when her sniffles subsided, she told him, “she ran away this morning, i’ve looked everywhere and i’ve called everyone, no one has seen her, i don’t know what to do and the police aren’t doing anything until she’s gone for a day but you know her, she never does this.”

she rambled endlessly to him and hoseok held onto her the entire time, feeling only a bit hurt that she never called him but that wasn’t a concern right now.

at the end of it, he offered her a glass of water, removed his apron, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before heading straight for the door.

“hoseok,” he stopped at her voice, “i only didn’t call you because i know you two aren’t doing well right now, otherwise you know you’re like my son.” and hoseok melted, he smiled and took her hands as he said, “don’t worry about that ma, we’re family, you keep calling people and i’ll try to find her.”

he didn’t know what to feel once he stepped out of the restaurant.

in the restaurant, he could focus on reassuring and comforting your mom, he could place all his energy into caring for her but now, he was alone and he didn’t know what to feel.

hoseok got into his car only to realize he didn’t know where to fucking begin, you could be anywhere by this time, even a different city but he has a feeling that you were not too far.

but he didn’t know that with certainty either.

every thought he had only put him in a chokehold as his mind reeled with every worst-case scenario.

nevertheless, he put his fears aside and started the car.

the next few hours, he drove in every street, looked in every club and café, kept checking his phone some one million times, and stopped at the entrance of his summer camp where his life seemed to begin and end.

jay would’ve had a panic attack if he was here with hoseok right now, hoseok smiled as he thought of how worried jay would’ve been and how he probably would’ve cursed you out after finding you, how he would’ve hugged you and hoseok in relief, how he would never let it happen again.

jay would’ve been so many things if he was still there with hoseok and that killed hoseok every day.

he kept staring at the entrance where he ran out of the day jay died, where he held back his tears and shook his head and told himself that it was all a lie, that his best friend was still alive.

hoseok threw his head back on his car seat.

grief was so unfair; it took away so much and left him with so little.

if it was so hard for him, he couldn’t imagine how much more angry or sad grief would’ve made you over the years.

and just as he blinks back tears, his phone rings and he runs his hand over his face to answer it, “ma, i’m still out, don’t worry, we’ll find her,” he starts reassuring only to hear nothing on the other end.

“hello?” he frowns.

“hoseok?”

and he almost drops his phone in relief.

“god, are you okay?” he immediately sits up, starting the car again, “where are you? i’m coming to get you right now, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“why aren’t you home?”

“huh?”

“why aren’t you home right now?”

“are you at my place?” hoseok frown becomes even deeper and he knows your silence only means one thing, he sighs out, “stay there.”

and he’s turning the car, calling your mom to tell her the news, and feeling a hundred different emotions as he reaches the lane of his apartment.

right by his door, he finds you, sitting on the floor with your knees to your chest and the rocks slid off his shoulders, he feels air enter his chest at the sight of you, unharmed and safe and breathing and…alive.

he doesn’t know why he’d even thought as far as you being dead but he couldn’t help it.

it was midnight but the moonlight, as always, found you and your tears, and hoseok sat right next to you and stretched his legs out in front of him.

“why didn’t you say anything back?” he hears you mumble and he frowns, “when?”

“that day in summer camp, when i told you i liked you, why didn’t you say anything back?”

and hoseok sighs, the secret he’s held in his heart for as long as he remembers, starts crawling up his throat, “i like you too,” and his lack of using the past tense has you sitting up straight, tears now reduced to sniffles.

“you do?” and the way you ask it almost has him hitting his own head, how did he ever let you think otherwise?

“i would be crazy if i didn’t,” he smiles weakly at you, his heart suddenly exposed and raw and beating louder than it ever has before, and you fall back on the wall, “but you just walked away then.”

and hoseok knows he can’t hide it anymore.

“i didn’t say anything because i went to jay,” hoseok recalls how cold the night was, how quick his steps were to reach his best friend and he watches your face light up and fall, all in just seconds.

“i needed to ask him if it was okay, i needed to tell him that i liked his sister and that i wanted to take care of her, and he didn’t like it,” hoseok shakes his head, a strained laugh leaving his lips, “we fought all night, but i guess he saw how much i meant it, so he gave me his blessing,” he looks up at you and you’re closing your eyes, letting your head fall back.

“he gave us his blessing, y/n, he did and that’s why i’ve never given up on you, he was so dramatic about it, you would’ve hit him if you saw him say it,” he laughs, the memory still so fresh of jay hugging hoseok and whispering to him that he would be dead the next second if he ever hurt you, how jay stopped himself from smiling as he thought of you with him.

he kept that close to his heart and never told anyone about it, it was for him and jay until today but now, it was for you too.

every time he felt bitter over the years that you avoided him, hoseok reminded himself that he loved you and he always will, and jay would love that hoseok loved you.

and you’re holding back sobs that still escape and tear into the world.

“i’m sorry,” he hears you say and he hums before placing your head on his shoulder, he tries not to cry when he feels your sobs, he sniffles and looks at his feet.

“i was so scared that morning, i told you everything i’ve never told anyone the night before and you still treated me with love, i thought you would tell me to leave, that you would finally have had enough but you didn’t and it still scared me. you shouldn’t be in my life hoseok, i will ruin you,” his heart sinks and hoseok moves closer to you because he doesn’t know where he belongs if it’s not beside you.

“i don’t want to be anywhere else,” he says and presses his hand to the side of your head.

“i can’t stop missing him, hoseok, i don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you shake your head and he sighs, feeling his throat close up.

“i miss him too.”

“but it’s been so long and i feel like i should move on by now, i don’t know,” you mumble, your tears falling into his shirt and skin.

“jay’s not some ancient history but i think he would hate both of us for being stuck like this.”

“i don’t know another way to live.”

“neither do i,” he shrugs, he knows how lonely he’s felt, how solitary his life was but, “but it will always hurt, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot, you lost a brother, a companion for life, i lost a best friend, my soulmate and it’s always going to hurt. but i don’t want either of us to be alone in that pain, we don’t deserve that.”

life can take everything away from him but if we had a few good people and he could love those people, that was enough for him.

“it’s about time we start living for jay, do everything he would’ve done, feel everything he would’ve felt, and keep him alive, don’t you think so?”

and when you nod, fall on his shoulder, and whisper your love to him, it’s just like the first time, the most honest words he’s heard in his life.

hoseok knows his life can sometimes feel empty but sometimes, like right now, it can feel so full that he wouldn’t know what to do with all the love he gave and received.

he whispers his love back to you.

until dawn, you cried on his shoulder, and in the morning, hoseok made breakfast for you, you kissed him and whispered your thanks, he kissed you and whispered his love again, and you smiled and ate the food he made.

and it was calm, normal, another day but everything had changed once again for hoseok.

because this time, he had you and you had him, and in both your hearts and minds, you had jay.

and you learned to live life again, with love, and not just regret, with happiness, and not just guilt.

you lived, not just to grieve and mourn, but to actually live and build a life, with hoseok right by your side. he lived, without

taglist: @blissingtaehyung @cuteipat @hobicorewhore @yoongleskitten @mrjeonghan @greenie-frog @avawants2havefun @an-ever-angry-bi @alyenorgondorwarrior thank you all so much for liking the preview, i hope you enjoy the full fic <3]

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btskitty17 · 26 days ago

Text

Object of Curiosity (Park Jimin X Fem! Reader One-Shot)

Please Read: Park Jimin BTS one shot, flirty dance teacher Jimin, shy and slightly awkward fem! character (insert any name of your choice in the blanks), smutty conclusion (oral, fem! receiving), mutual crush, sensual tension and yearning, strangers-to-friends-to-fling-to-relationship word count: 4.4k

masterlist

"No amount of her coquette tantrums could deprive him of his lavish meal now."

Park Jimin is so charming that it is almost obscene.

The silver-hued tassels of a pair of long earrings twinkled on his shoulder as he swerved from side to side in front of the mirror with his eyes narrowed in concentration. Both the men and women in the studio watched, enraptured by his lithe movements.

Park Jimin’s Contemporary Dance Class started off in a somewhat shabby basement as a no-name establishment, however, it had grown into a formidable performing arts institution over the course of five years, certainly in a league of its own and it seemed to embrace and attract people from all walks of life.

Jimin’s rhythmic dance videos had become an internet sensation, broadcasting his delicate yet masterful moves to the world. In the practice videos, he seemed hypnotic, kneeling on an oakwood dance platform, performing the floor-work part of the routine or showcasing his command over body-rolls as a slew of layered necklaces clattered atop his collarbones.

On the subway back home, as ___ mindlessly scrolled through her explore feed, a reel, posted by a local dance academy, caught her attention, bringing her doom-scrolling to an abrupt halt. She did not want to lose the video in a sea of algorithm-pushed content so she saved it before watching it. And she watched it again. And yet again. The raven-haired man in the video, had her wrapped around his bejewelled finger, all in sixty seconds as she stopped herself from hitting replay yet again and explored the page that had posted the video, brimming with the novel temptation of more unwatched videos of that man’s graceful swaying: from stage performances to practice routines, these videos were watched late into the night as ___ pored over her laptop for a better, more focused view, especially that of his elusive abs. Park Jimin was his name.

___ decided to channel her obsession with Jimin into a hobby. Her nightly routine of binging Jimin’s dance videos could be more than just her eyeing him while munching on spicy potato crisps, spilling crumbs on the couch’s armrest. She ended up signing up for the weekend classes, the ones for lesser technical dancers, a euphemism for those amateurs who could not possibly fathom the mid-air flips that Jimin and his disciples perform with ease.

___ had been feeling a sense of mundanity, stemming from her quotidian routine of working at her job and then coming home to a soupy bowl of ramyeon, slurped alongside a loud sitcom blaring on the television, which is the sound that she fell asleep to on most nights; she goes on to perform the very same activities the next day, with a mind-numbingly boring accuracy. Perhaps a dance class could help her feel a spark. And the prospect of a handsome teacher certainly does strengthen her case: someone that she now had a full-blown crush on, albeit she had only met him virtually.

On an Autumn Saturday, the evening batch of dance students, comprising of about fifty individuals, a relatively smaller group from the other ones learning ballet and hip-hop, gathered before the majestic Park Jimin. So did Y/N.

“Fledglings!” Jimin clasped his hands together. “I understand that you are all just starting out! We shall begin by doing some stretches and jumping jacks to loosen up,” his feather-light voice splashed across the dance studio, like an oncoming oceanic wave as he looked at each and every participant of the class, attempting to register their unfamiliar faces. ___ felt that Jimin’s eyes sauntered their way over and across her body for a suspiciously long amount of time. Or she could have been mistaken. The curve of Jimin’s plush lips seemed to carry a bit of interest and inquisitiveness.

Clad in her black tank-top, ___ attempted to stretch as decently as she could while the hem of her barely-there clothing started to inch upwards her waistline, unveiling a smidgen of skin. Jimin surveyed the room, comically scolding anyone whose stretching was not fulfilling his standards. Y/N felt his warm presence situating itself behind herself as she continued her exercise.

“The bouncing, the shaking,” Jimin clicked his tongue, “this is not the apt time and place for that.”

___ was suddenly conscious of her body in the impossibly smallest of ways, the slightest sheen of sweat on her forearms, the way the strands of her unruly hair were scattered across her forehead and the unintentional quivering of her limbs, caused by her erratic, almost non-existent workout schedule. If only she had been more regular! She halted her stretching and sheepishly peered over shoulder at Jimin.

___ could feel her mouth dampen from the slightest eye contact with him. Jimin wore a playful half-smile, and he moved forward to place a hand on the small of her back to guide her movements, with his eyes showcasing amusement. ___ nearly shuddered at his touch: the cold metal of his ring was seeping through the waify fabric of her top. Jimin’s nimble fingers deftly clasped her wrists, now taking charge of her workout and, her sanity, too.

“You are too stiff. You need to gradually ease into it,” Jimin whispered into her ear, aligning his chest with her back, assisting her in stretching. Was a dance teacher supposed to be this touchy? Jimin’s breathing seemed surprisingly irregular, especially for someone who is a dancer and very much in control of these tendencies during performances; she could hear the hitches in his breath and the gasps that he was swallowing as her head was synced with his chest, while stretching upwards. ___ felt as if the warmup section of the class would exhaust all of her energy. It wasn’t the workout that was draining her: it was the red-hot proximity of Park Jimin that made her feel like she was under a constant gaze of burning scrutiny. Jimin’s subtle woody cologne swirled throughout her senses, creating an odd sensation of intoxication. All because the man was helping her stretch.

“Do you think you could reach the climax part on your own, or do you need me to hold your hand through this,” Jimin asked in a sing-song teasing voice, setting ___’s cheeks on fire.

Jimin’s memory pulsed with the close-ups of ____’s curves; since the moment she had stepped foot into his dance class, he had been …distracted to say the least. He did not want to be inappropriate by any means, he had of course maintained decorum, however, what he had developed was a symptom of an instant crush. ___’s deer-alert eyes as she attempted to follow along his dance-steps nearly pierced his heart because of how adorable they made her seem: she was a strange mixture of charm and clumsiness. Her nonchalant walk somehow captured his attention; she possessed an unmistakable air of purity and had the sort of unassuming beauty that Jimin deems to be as the archetype of the kind of woman he finds attractive.

As several weekends went by, Jimin found himself peculiarly obsessed with ___ and he started looking forward to the Saturday and Sunday classes, nearly waiting by the door like an expectant pet and being both relieved and exhilarated to see that she had not dropped out of his institute, despite the monstrosity that her dancing was. But that was his job, he was supposed to teach her to relax and to stop her body from being so hardened. If only he could stop being hard in places he shouldn’t be when he sees her. Sometimes it was her floral scent, sometimes it was her wide-eyed stare, her evident nervousness or her giggles at her own silliness: Jimin could not afford to peel his eyes off her.

Electric, it felt. Jimin sensed tiny eruptions throughout his veins if their hands grazed each other while dancing or when the ice broke between them and they conversed about the weather and politics, gradually familiarising themselves with the other, or when she stopped to sip from her bubble-pink metallic water bottle and the tiniest of drops raced from her strawberry-hued lips, down her swanlike neck, towards her ample cleavage: oh, how he envied that wicked drop of water!

While Jimin sassily snaps at students for showcasing lacklustre pirouettes in his ballet classes, he pardons the ungraceful stumbling of ____’s feet during steps that involve turning; what a gorgeous little klutz, Jimin laughed quietly to himself. The songs ___ had suggested made their way to his playlist: a string of songs that he played at midnight and believed that although ___’s dancing was questionable, her music taste certainly wasn’t something to be gawked at. After sharing music, they followed each other on social media, (initiated by Jimin, given his curiosity about her life) leading up to an innocuous exchange of humorous memes. Despite being an introvert, ___ had opened up to Jimin.

Jimin realised that he had been hawk-eyed in monitoring all her moves on the ‘gram, although she barely posted any pictures of herself: it was all pictures of annotated stacks of books, the horizon at sunrise and stray cats. Mysterious vibe, I like it, he thought.

___ had discovered that there was so much more to Jimin than his looks, albeit his looks alone brought a lot of the footfall to the dance classes. He was not a shallow person; there was a latent passion in his heart to change things for better, evidenced by his charitable educational projects for children in the vicinity, which he had spearheaded since the very year that his institute came into being. Jimin was also quite the conversationalist: he could be talking about the global political economy at one minute and expressing his thoughts on Sabrina Carpenter’s new album in the very next breath. ___ admired how his social butterfly self was the total opposite of her wallflower demeanour; he could slither his way into any discussion in the world, just about as smoothly as he moved.

mature content ahead: NSFW, description of physical intimacy

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Jimin drawled into her ears, his palms firmly planted on either side of her head, as he angled his face downwards to capture her expression with his ravenous eyes.

The studio was empty. The last batch of students had hurriedly scuttered away, given that it was a Saturday night. ___ stuck around just to watch him. Over the past six months, which seemed to fly by, their connection had deepened.

“I really don’t. I feel like I come off as clumsy,” ___ said, her cheeks flustered by the undivided attention that Jimin was bestowing upon her.

“You are,” he sniggered. “But there’s also something that calls out to me. The vocabulary of your body language is quite flirtatious, maybe you are unaware of it; it is the kind of subtle, repressed sexiness that pulls me in. It is innate. One cannot just put on that front and you have that… if I may say so,” After giving it a light nibble, Jimin left the ghost of his lips on the tip of her now reddened right ear and flashed an elusive smile her way.

“Well, I have a confession to make,” ___ choked out, somehow, befuddled by the intensity of Jimin’s nearness and her own wildly thrumming heart. Jimin expressed his interest with his eyebrows raised, his eyes still fixed on her form.

“I joined these classes because of my initial fascination with you, after seeing you on social media.”

“And? You are not fascinated by me anymore? Apologies for shattering your beautiful illusions,” Jimin broke into a teasing laugh, taking back a few steps.

“No! But that was, purely because of your outer beauty. I am trying to say that after getting to know you, there are many more reasons that I like keeping you company. Reasons that are not at all superficial.”

“So you like me,” Jimin said in a hushed voice, as if their clandestine meeting could be interrupted any moment by an intruder who may have been eavesdropping on them. Even though they were all by themselves in the studio; the ferocity of their solitude was just too much.

___ gazed at him, lulled by his presence, unable to do anything but take in the magnificence of Park Jimin who was now stretching his arms, looking like a nymph under a waterfall and heading dangerously close towards her very own self.

Jimin’s beautiful fingers reached out to caress ___’s cheek while reading the emotion encased behind her eyes. Anticipation? Love? Lust? Or all three of them? He was awfully eager to find out, so he dipped his head to the level of her height and delicately enveloped his lips with hers, as soft and sweet as he could be. ___ fervently kissed him back with Jimin snaking his hands around her waist, not even leaving an infinitesimal speck of distance between them. As Jimin stirred for a second in order to give her space and time to breathe, ___ released a groan of disapproval, resenting even a moment of separation from Jimin: a gesture that made him smile.

As he continued kissing downwards her neck, Jimin nudged her towards the couch, guiding her face-first, with an abundant amount of kissing of course. ___ nearly tripped over her feet as she landed on the couch with a squeak escaping her lips, making Jimin simper into the still unbroken kiss as he continued to hold her. Jimin’s fingertips lightly fluttered over the straps of her summer dress, as if seeking permission. ___ longingly stared at him from beneath her eyelashes, and coyly nodded.

The fabric of her dress was peeled off her skin by Jimin with the utmost care as he took it off her frame and flung it sideways. He took a few steps back, and with his eyes gleaming, Jimin looked at ___ from head to toe, as if she were an artwork showcased at a museum, much like the very first day that he had seen her.

“What?” ___ stuttered shyly shielding her almost-bare self with her arms from his wild eyes.

“Exquisite. The pink lace. Of course. Pretty like you.”

Jimin knelt on his knees on the oakwood floor, and deftly placed an open-mouthed kiss on her now exposed stomach, leaving behind a hot patch of wetness as his intrepid fingers began to fiddle with the hook of her rose-coloured bralette, undoing it in no time. Jimin’s eyes had now lost their earlier mischievous glint, they acquired a darker, more sensuous hue as he took in the mouthwatering sight before him.

The unrestrained galore of ___’s breasts made his breathing inconsistent and his mouth salivate… which was something that he put to good use; he plopped his watery mouth on her right nipple, making ___ gasp in surprise while his other hand fondled the left one (which would soon receive the same amount of affection as the other one), the pads of his fingers heatedly felt each and every inch of her skin. With wetness pooling between her thighs unchecked, ___ trembled from Jimin’s brazen devotion to her chest; she felt as if several jolts of electricity were running through her veins at once.

“The bedframe. I need to pull that out… from beneath the couch. Wait. We are going to need it,” Jimin huffed, momentarily stepping away from their rendezvous to make it more comfortable for them: he had one of those sofa-beds in his personal room at the studio… couches that transform into beds for the evenings that he may be too tired after dancing.

Jimin dragged ___ by her arms to the front of the bed and picked up exactly where he left of. He kissed her chest once again before placing his palms flat against her thighs, which felt warm and buttery soft. Jimin watched her face intently for a reaction when he began to circle ___’s inner thigh with his index finger, lingering dangerously close to her pretty pink panties with the light colour doing nothing to conceal the speckle of dampness smackdab in the centre, begging for Jimin to pay heed to it. ___ bit back her pathetic mewling which was about to spill from her lips.

___’s hands found their way to Jimin’s stylish suspenders, but they lacked the sophisticated restraint of Park Jimin; she was famished for some form of contact with his skin. She tugged at the back yoke of the suspenders’ braces in anguish, looking at Jimin’s clouded eyes; Jimin assisted her in snapping them off as they fell slackened around his waist, his eyes not leaving ___’s alluring bosom.

After painfully forsaking her unimaginably doughy thighs, Jimin’s elegant fingers flitted over the middle of her panties, feeling up their way over her sopping slit, making Jimin scrunch up his eyes and groan at the its drenched state. ___was a blushing mess, mumbling his name out of surprise. His hands tenderly shed the last piece of clothing on her body: Jimin hooked both of his hands at the sides of her thighs and stripped her underwear off her which had grown quite stubborn, owing to the oozing pond of desire surrounding it. After undressing her, Jimin examined her panty, placed daintily on his palm. ___ was flabbergasted to witness what occurred right after. He brought the fabric close to his nose and inhaled her sweet scent, almost as if it was his life-source, with his tongue sticking out.

“What are you doing,” ___ said, with an arm outstretched to grab her panty back and shielding her bare breasts with another.

“This belongs to me now,” Jimin snickered, clutching the lacey number tightly in hand and twirling it with his fingers like a newfound jewel; the core of the underwear was exposed to his nose yet again, as his eyelashes fluttered shut, and a hungry whiff passed through his lungs; ___ was certainly delectable to taste, he mused.

___ succumbed to the discomfiture creeping up on her cheeks in the form of a raging blush and staggered backwards onto the sofa-bed with Jimin’s unforgiving gaze taking in every single movement of hers. Jimin neatly tucked her shell-pink panty into the drawer beside him, securely locking it behind himself as if that piece of underclothing was the kind of treasure that numerous people would covet.

“I have, in this very room, often fantasised about having you unclothed, I must admit. I have pictured it one too many times. And so much more,” Jimin backed ___ into the mattress, crawling up on the sofa-bed with his knees bent and cornering his very dear and very naked ___. Jimin hastily unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, watching ___’s shy eyes every second and how they flickered rapidly as his toned chest was unravelled before her, wherein the unclicking of each button heightened the delicious ache between her legs.

___ extended her hand to discern a sensation of Jimin’s bare chest; her palms were itching to do so. She explored the expanse of his shirtless torso, gingerly abandoning her bashfulness. Jimin kissed her once again, loosely lacing his forearms around her shoulders; the kiss was unhurried and it was Park Jimin at his best, he could hear her suppressed whimpers from their hot-mouthed smooch alone.

“Jimin-n-n,” ___ sputtered, her voice livid with need when Jimin pulled away from the kiss.

“I know, I know.”

The innermost crevice of her thighs glistened with the dewdrops of her craving and those drove Jimin into a stuporous daze wherein the only thing he knew that he was being devoured by his all-consuming thirst and ___ was spurting like a delicious fountain. Jimin bowed down on the bed to be eye-level with her pitifully wet pussy, providing ___ a glorious panorama of the series of Moon phase tattoos scrolled from the base of his neck to the middle of his spine.

As ___ drooled over Jimin’s body art, she felt a tug at both her feet with Jimin striving to spread her legs; ___ unconsciously rubbed her thighs together, strained by her shyness once again. Jimin clicked his tongue, and this time, with more determination, forked her legs; he anchored both her lower limbs on each side of his shoulders as he greedily observed the congealed strings of juices that swirled in her cunt, freefalling onto the bedsheet. The glimpses of partially-clad Jimin's taut abs and the patchwork of his veins protruding from his forearms could almost propel ___ into a blinding orgasm, untouched.

Kisses were peppered on the undersides of her thighs as Jimin started to salivate, rapturous to follow the enticing trail of aroma being emitted from ___’s weeping centre.

"You are going to make the floorboard leak, running like a faucet," Jimin growled lowly, smacking his lips.

When Jimin leant closer to her pussy, ___ whined, crossing her legs on his bare back out of sheer habit, however, Jimin smirked at the undeniable closeness of her cunt: no amount of her coquette tantrums could deprive him of his lavish meal now.

“Look at you. I had no idea you could be this filthy. Your fucking pussy is overflowing right in front of my eyes and I haven’t even touched you,” upon hearing the so very refined Park Jimin’s extremely lewd choice of words reverberating through her skin, for the first time in her life, ___ almost sensed another tidal wave of wetness gush through her cunt, her breasts heaving up and down with her saliva-slicked nipples glimmering pertly.

Jimin’s leather pants seemed to have deflated, closing in on tightly on his dick, painfully smothering it; but it was his member that was soaked in precum and had burgeoned in size, owing to the starkly naked visual of his crush splayed out before him, moaning with her pussy pleasurably bubbling: the scene sparked a fire at the pit of his stomach, making him needier by the minute. He wanted nothing more than to shimmy off the waistband of his briefs and pants and fuck her mercilessly right into her creaming cunt but, he was aware that that had to wait and he had to practise some restraint; they had a longer way to go for that to happen, at least for now.

Jimin traced the glossy flower-bud of her cunt with his finger, inciting a shocked, incisive intake of breath from ___ and then plopped his mouth on her clit, sucking it with his lips as ___ breathlessly thrashed about, her legs squeezing Jimin’s torso between themselves. One of his hands solidly grasped her left thigh in its place, and another situated itself at her glossily wet entrance as his index finger toyed with the tight trench of her pussy, eliciting a panting chorus of his name from her lips. He inserted a dexterous finger into her most intimate cavity and the midriff of ___’s body rose up from the sofa-bed, as if levitating. Jimin, unfrazzled by her explosive reaction and with a one track-mind to finally relish his personal delicacy, leapt forward with his mouth puckered and settled an open-lipped kiss on her cunt, the sap of her pussy glazing his lush lips.

Jimin’s girthy finger soon acquired a maddening pace as it vanished inside her pussy and then exited and he repeated these motions as ____’s pleading grew louder with each moment. She cleaved around his mouth which was afflicting an unrelenting force on her cunt, licking, lightly biting and mouthing all over it. His skilfull tongue worked in tandem with and seemed to be just as agile as his finger as he rolled her bud around in his mouth with a spinning whirl. The onslaught of Jimin’s tongue had ___ convulsing and scampering to clench his hair in her hands as his head bobbled between her legs.

"I want this taste on my tongue forever. You are so enjoyable; you have no clue," Jimin muttered hoarsely while coming up for air before diving face-first into her pussy once again.

"Jimin, fuck.... I-really, I really need you Jim..." ___ was interrupted by a strangled moan hurtling from her own throat as she felt Jimin's finger traverse through a particularly sensitive spot, and upon reading her bodily reaction, Jimin thrust his tongue in the same area, making ___ quiver and shriek his full name.

"Damn, do you want people to think that I am running a torturous dungeon rather than a dance studio in here, screaming like that," Jimin smirked, pleased with himself as he persistently fingered her right where she needed it the most, with his tongue lapping up all of her seductive juices.

___ started to shiver as a deluge of sensations begin to take over her consciousness; Jimin was ceaseless with his mouth attacking every inch of her cunt, exploring pleasurable places that she did not even know existed as his fingers fucked her into a delirium. His now sweat-streaked hair was plastered across her thighs, tickling her with each rise and fall of his head between her legs as he kept making his craving for her well-known through his dirty monologues.

___ grabbed Jimin's bare biceps to steady herself as he noisily slurped on her clit, drool pouring from his mouth to the shiny folds of her pussy, foreseeing a strong climax coming. She felt a colossal flare forming in her belly, desperate to be released as her moans created even more clamour; in her head, a montage of the vulgar yet beautiful things that shirtless Jimin had said to her played on loop, sending her over the edge. In a hot flash, she orgasmed as Jimin's tongue gave her one final flick and then, after having depleted all her strength, her limbs drooped around him, her eyes closing.

Jimin, with his measured movements, brought ___ an orgasm that would forever be indelible in her mind; it would be the yardstick for the other ones in the future. After she came, Jimin sincerely cleaned her up between her inner thighs with his tongue as she hissed because of her recent climax and oversensitivity in the zone.

"Let me bring you some warm water and a fresh washcloth, I have some supplies in a cabinet right here," Jimin said, walking up to the studio's corridor, while licking his lips, seeking the sweet and briny aftertaste of ___.

"Wait. Jimin. What about you," ___ said groggily, with her eyes half-shut, referring to his evident full-on boner.

"Uh, I will take care of that... later."

"No. I want you."

"It is not the time for that yet. Let me take you to dinner first. Also, have you seen yourself? You will pass out from round two, my pillow princess," Jimin laughed, handing her the rumpled dress that he had discarded off her body a while ago.

A month later

"I could never move like you in a thousand years. I had thought about getting another dancing tutorial class before coming to yours in order to impress you and not be so inelegant in front of you," ___ reminisced about the early days of getting to know her now-boyfriend Jimin.

"Even though your bodily coordination while dancing is reproachable, I must say that I was already quite impressed after holding a few conversations with you, my smarty-pants. Not to mention I was bowled over by your beauty," Jimin affectionately pecked her forehead, cuddling her under a soft duvet as they both drifted off to sleep.

a/n: my first time ever writing smut and all my knowledge about it comes from books and movies...not me trying to avoid writing it in this one-shot for the longest time possible, because you know, context is important. lol.

DISCLAIMER This is a work of fanfiction with the BTS members as characters; I do not claim ownership to the aforementioned characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment.

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jhugas · 1 year ago

Text

‘Of Course Baby.’- Jung Hoseok

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Genre: Drabble, smut, fluff at the end♡

Pairing: military! Hoseok X Reader

Summary: You needed him one last time before he left again..

Word count: ~1,2k

Warnings/tags: Buffed!Hoseok, military!Hoseok, big dick lol, kissing over his boxers, oral (m receiving), making out, cums in her mouth, unprotected sex, he cums twice, cunt penetration, stand up sex (he carries her), rough sex, creampie, clothed sex.

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

‘Don’t go babe~’ you tell him as he’s ready to leave the apartment early.

‘I have to, next time we’ll see each other we’ll spend another amazing week, alright?’ He said trying to comfort you.

He was leaving for the military again and was already wearing his uniform.

And though you had enough time this whole week to do as you pleased together, you wanted more, just one last thing.

‘Please baby…’ you whisper with a pout while locking eyes with him.

He then gets closer to you and whispers back ‘What do you want?’.

‘You know what I want…’ you answer him, meanwhile your hands start caressing his buffed chest, fingers going over his covered nipples before going straight to the point and holding his bulge entirely in your hands, squeezing it.

His leg twitches at the sudden touch but he doesn’t reject it, instead, he puts his hands over yours that’s on his crotch, and asks you one more time ‘Are you sure?’.

You nod immediately, and he starts moving his hand with yours on his cock on the side of his pants.

You can feel his cock getting harder and harder as you hear his breath becoming irregular.

Your lips then reach out for his, connecting each other like a puzzle and sucking his bottom lips, nibbling on it before his tongue starts playing with you.

Now that you were both making out and things were getting really heated.

You decided to unbutton his pants, pulling them down just enough to see his cock entirely in his Calvin Klein boxers.

You pull your lips away from his, then get down on your knees and get close to his boner. And to make it better for him, you try to arch your back as much as possible to make your ass more visible for him.

Indeed, when you looked up to him after, you got to see him looking at you with his siren eyes and a smirk, admiring your face and position from his point of view.

You couldn’t lose any more time.

You start kissing lightly his thigh before reaching his boxers and kissing his crotch, then finally, kissing his length over the tissue.

You place a few wet kisses from the top to his bottom and once you reached his tip, immediately wrapped your lips around it, making sure your spit passes through the tissue as you suck it like a lollipop.

You can hear Hoseok moaning, and you moan back with his tip in between your lips, making him feel vibrations.

But he needed more… he pulled you away then got his dick out of his boxers before pulling you back in harshly, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

He has his hands on your head, holding your hair as he pushes himself in and out your mouth recklessly, because nothing turned him more on than your gagging and wet sounds coming from your mouth, or pussy.

He feels himself already hitting his high as you suck him off like a pro, and indeed, a minute later he found himself pushing himself as deep as possible as he releases his cum down your throat.

Afterwards, he pulled out and took your hand, then carried you to get you up. He kissed your lips, as you tried to stand up correctly while your pussy was making wet sounds.

And when Hoseok heard your pussy begging for his thick cock, he knew he had to please you.

‘Fuck me please… I need you inside…’ you said with the strength you had left, and he answered without any doubt ‘Of course baby.’. But since there wasn’t any place to lay down, he thought he’d just do something he always wanted to try, have sex with you, standing up.

First, he took off your pants and panties with his strong hand, then he picked you up by your ass, making your legs wrap around him as his cock was fit and ready to penetrate you.

‘Can you really do this?’ You ask him, scared that he wouldn’t be able to pull this position the entire time.

‘Of course I can.’ He answered with confidence. Indeed, you could feel his strength in his arms, he could probably do this all day actually.

He quickly spits on his hand and spreads it on his hard cock, before finally getting you lower and pushing his tip into your wet cunt, making you feel him entirely and each inch of him.

You moaned deeply when he entered you, and then he started pounding in you, already finding your sweet spot and making you see stars around you.

There was something incredibly hot about him being able to carry you, make you jump up and down on his dick while he was standing up. Clapping sounds and loud moans were resonating around the room.

He was someone that always encouraged you to be as loud as needed, he always made sure you were confident about your body and moans and always empowered them.

‘You look so good baby.’ ‘Louder. Your moans are so hot…’ ‘I wish I could picture your pretty ass right now.’

Are the sentences that he said all of the time.

Meanwhile, he kept on making you feel so full and secured, his strong arms making sure you don’t fall off while he hits your sweet spot continuously, making your orgasm come fast to you.

‘I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum.’ You warned with a breathy voice.

‘Me too, I’m close.’ He answered.

Your legs started shaking around him, being completely vulnerable and putting your whole weight on him as he kept on carrying you easily.

Then you arched your back as he leaned back and pushed himself the deepest possible in you. Meanwhile, he kept a hand on your ass to keep you close and secured, and used his other to cup your face and make you look at him.

You scream of pleasure and once you felt his cum releasing in a rush inside you, you released yours, making both of your juices mix up in your one spot.

You kept eye contact the whole time, but once you came down from your high, you felt so exhausted your eyes closed alone.

He finally pulled out, and tried to make you stand up but it’s impossible for you in this state, so instead, he picked you back up, brought you to your bed and kissed you softly.

‘I’m sorry I can’t properly give you an aftercare or cuddle with you, but you know I’d love to. I have to go now… I’ll text you a lot, goodbye love.’

He said before kissing your forehead, then leaving silently.

When you woke up, you went to the kitchen and saw a paper on the table;

‘I love you♡ rest well and keep pictures of me close to you. I’ll be thinking of you and looking at your pictures before going to sleep every night, as always. I’ll be back soon. - yours (aka future husband)♡’

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are really really appreciated🫶🏻

Masterlist :)

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7ndipity · 2 years ago

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How they sleep (but it's slightly cursed)

Ot7 x Reader

Warnings: none I think

A/N: It's pure crack, spawned off some of the weird sleep stories they've shared, for humorous purposes only.

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin: Doesn't really need sleep since he's a vampire, but when he does, it's neatly tucked in bed or literally hanging upside-down from the clothes rack in the closet. Will get bored after a couple hours and accidentally wake you up playing video games.

7/10 just keep the yelling to a minimum pls

Yoongi: Sleeps in 45 min - 2 hour increments(hello neurodivergence), accidentally wakes you up everytime he gets up and flops on top of you when he comes back. Doesn't snore that much, but when he does, it's right by your ear.

6/10 exactly like sharing a bed with a cat

Hobi: Doesn't sleep, he's too busy working on 5 thousand different projects. If you do manage to pin him down to sleep, it's in weirdest positions. He also kicks in his sleep.

6/10 for risk of bodily harm

Namjoon: Claims he's not a cuddler, then catches you in vice grip that you can never escape. Gets annoyed if you make any sound during the night, even though his snoring sounds like an angry buzz saw.

5/10 might sleep in a different room tbh

Jimin: Sleeps curled into a ball like a cat. Either hoards all the blankets or will share but then sleeps practically on top of you for warmth. Sounds like Spongebob when he snores.

8/10 honestly not that bad imo

Taehyung: Overwhelmingly warm and cuddly. Like this is not a teddy bear, this is a grizzly in hibernation who insists on spooning. He also supposedly talks in his sleep? So good luck with that.

6/10 for heat stroke risk

Jungkook: Sleeps spread eagle over 3 mattresses on the floor, so there's technically plenty of space, but there's no sheets or pillows, so you're using your coat and a rolled up towel. He also snores. And kicks.

4.5/10 byob(bring your own bedding)

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aelinad · 1 month ago

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♡ ♥ Masterlist ♥ ♡

BTS Series:

Tangled Strings Of Fate (TSOF)

One-shots:

Staged Romance (Kim Namjoon) The Missing Track (Min Yoongi)

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fanficbtss13 · 10 months ago

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Contract

<Babygirl series> [2]

JJK (JEON JUNGKOOK) ONE SHOT SMUT.

⚠️ WARMING: DO NOT read if you are not used to smut and mature content or if you are not an adult.

DO NOT copy.

<><><><><><><>

CONTRACTED BABYGIRL

<><><><><><><>

She sat on the bed, all bored. So basically it was actually really boring being in a contracted life for 1 year with a man who is the CEO of the biggest fashion company in Korea.

1 year? Well yes, it was the fourth day in his house, all you have to be is a cute little girl who he will fuck till the end of the contract. He was out for a business trip after discharging you in his house and your room, as usual, it was a soft aesthetic like you have and unlike what he has.

One time you were wondering in his house and the maids were literally just ignoring you after giving you clothes to wear and food to eat so you were really bored, you came across a room and opened it, it was really different from yours, by the things and furniture inside the room, you knew it was his room.

You were lying on your bed as you stared at the ceiling, you can't even go out without his permission. Even though you haven't been in a physical step with him yet.

You heard a car pull up on the driveway of the mansion and you peeked through your light-colored silk curtains from your window, he came out of the car with some shopping bags with his own company's logo and he walked inside the house.

You felt a bit scared and nervous to meet him because he has that so-called cold face with seriousness included which always makes you think he can do anything which he actually can.

You step back and slowly walk out of your room, you are wearing just a top and pyjama pants as you open the door and walk out of your room, looking down at the living room as he tiredly takes off his tie and goes towards his room which was near the living room meanwhile yours was upstairs.

He glanced up at you still seriousness plaster on his face and went inside his room. You walked back inside your room and scrolled through your phone and you heard a knock on the door so you locked your phone and opened the door, Jungkook was again in casual clothes this time, wearing a t-shirt and a pyjama and he pulled his hand forward to hand three bags of the same shopping bags you saw when he entered the mansion.

"I bring some clothes for you and you are doing a fashion show in front of me with them." He said and walked inside making you step back as he stared dead into your eyes making you hella nervous.

But little did you know his heart was racing, he was giving a face that was deadly serious but deep down he was trying not to blush. You nodded took the bags and went inside the dressing room as he sat on your bed waiting for you, looking around your room.

"Cute." He whispered to himself seeing everything in pink purple or light blue, inhaling the sweet scent of yours which was mixed with the new furniture of your room.

So there were three dresses for you, one was a simple yet short sexy dress and the other one was a short blouse like top with shorts, and the last one was a nightgown, designed like a kitten costume with cat ears too. You took and wore the simple one and walked out of the dressing room, showing it to him.

He smiled, it was a mix of smirk and genuine smile as he stared at you and lean back a bit placing his hands on the mattress. "How do I look?" You asked in a low voice and he hummed.

"Not bad, next." He said in a bit of a playful voice you turn around just to make him stare in shock at your ass, it was poking out because of the shortness of the dress. And you knew you were affecting him. He gulped lightly and you closed the door behind you and wore the next one, the short blouse and shorts.

You walk out and adjust your hair a bit and his eyes sharpen, he was feeling aroused just by your belly which was in full display. The thought of just touching you was making him wild. To take your little body in his arms and feel the soft skin against his hands.

"Jungkook?" You asked as he was just staring, not saying anything. He looked up at you, "I did choose the right clothes for you didn't I?"

He chuckled lightly and checked out your body up and down again. "Next." He said in a bit deep and low voice as you felt a shiver run down your spine.

You turn around and he is just still staring at your body you close the door behind you again and change into the last dress he brought you, it has net cups for breasts and even the skirt area was so short as if you will just sit and spread your legs a bit, your pussy will be on display, you wear the dress and the cat ears which with it and walk out only to make him drop his jaw.

His breath caught in his throat and you were looking so cute and he hurriedly looked at your hands. He also brought the cat gloves but you were not wearing them, you adjusted the cat ears properly and he stood, you looked so small and cute in his eyes as he went forward and took your hand.

He dragged you inside the dressing room and checked the bags making your heart flustered by his touch and confused by his actions.

"What is it?" You asked and at the end, he found the cat hand gloves and made you wear them.

"You maybe forgot this earlier. Now I am outside, come out, walking like a little cat you are, baby girl." He said in a low voice and walked out of the room making you fluster even more, your cheeks were bright red as you walked out again.

It was as if his eyes were making hearts just like in cartoons as you walked and stood in front of him. A bit far from him though. He can feel his cock getting hard seeing your breasts translucently visible from the cat dress which he didn't notice before and your cat gloves and ears were so cute and sexy at the same time.

"Come here, my meow meow baby girl.." He said with a smirk as he pulled him hand forward and took your wrist pulling you closer to him, making you sit on his lap and smirk even wider seeing your blushing cheeks.

"Say meow." He said in a demanding voice and you looked at him shyly and made kitten hands and meowed.

"Meow."

"Oh! Cute.." he said as he nuzzled his face on your neck. His hands were sliding slowly over your tights making your heart skip a bit and his heart was beating like that too.

"How about we do it now? If you are ready?" He pulled away his hands and caressed your waist and his gaze was changing from your eyes and lips for the second time.

You looked away, feeling nervous and he chuckled lightly at your shyness. "I don't know, if you want to you can." You shrugged and he nodded slowly and held your chin.

"My little meow meow baby girl is going to fucked by his contracted boyfriend, isn't she?" He whispered against your ear and his hands slowly slid over the thin sleeves of the kitten outfit and he slid it off. Making it slide till your waist, exposing your pretty breasts to his animal eyes. He finds you cute and sexy at the same time, all he wanted is to eat you up and fuck you like an animal, like there is no tomorrow.

You gulped, your heart was beating like crazy and you could feel heat radiating between your legs as he cupped your breast with one hand and the other one was still holding your chin making you stare into his eyes as he just wanted to do all the things he wanted to do while you stare in his eyes "You are so pretty, I wish I could have you forever." He whispered as he pressed his lips on you making your eyes widen with his words.

His lips were moving hungrily yet gently on yours and pulled you even closer by your waist and pulled away after a while making you breathless and stared at you while you were breathing heavily, teasing your nipples between his middle and index finger making your breath hiss a bit and he took a deep breath.

"Tell me you are ready, I can't take it anymore. I want you to beg for more after what I will do to you.." He nuzzled his face onto your neck again, this time giving wet kisses and he caressed your tights gently, near your core but not touching it even with accident, waiting for a yes from you.

"I am," you said in a low voice making his eyes open in anticipation and before you knew it he had you bending over the bed for him, your left cheek pressing on pillows and he was holding your hip, making it curve out for him and he moved the skirt of your cat dress up above your ass and on your lower back.

Exposing your panties and he took it off and now you were exposed to his eyes and his finger entered your pussy and his thumb on your clit making you moaned.

"You are really beautiful, my little baby girl." He said in a low seductive voice making you moan lightly again he took off his pyjama and stroked his hard cock a few times before pressing it over your clit, teasing.

"Um... You know what? No matter what the shitty contract says, I will make you mine, and I definitely think my big bare cock would be a great start for this plan of mine." He caressed your ass as he was earning moans from you by teasing your clit with his cockhead.

Before you could say anything, he pushed inside you with a groan and made you gasp "My meow meow is so tight!" He said with gritted teeth, his voice was like he was waiting for this moment. He started thrusting as his fingers tighten on the soft skin of your ass.

"Jungkook, please we can't be together forever." You said with a low cracking voice as he started thrusting a bit faster.

"Please, my little meow meow, I need this, I need you. I need you as mine." He said as he closed his eyes and slammed his hips harder then before as he completed his sentence, and you let out a crying, pleasuring gasp. "Forever as mine!"

He continued moving fast as you were moaning and gasping with pleasure, his one hand holding your long hair, rolling it once around his knuckles but not painfully as he started thrusting faster making you gasp and whimper louder he was groaning with pleasure, hearing your moans and whimpers was making him lose control so much as he growled again. "Baby girl, now you will be my meow meow forever!"

He slammed against your ass, hitting your cervix deep, as he released, making you his forever now. He slowed down his thrusts deep inside you and moved deeper to be closer to you as much as possible as he was emptying himself inside you. His hands were shaky with his orgasm as he caressed your ass and was still buried deep inside you.

You both caught your breath and after that, he slowly lowered your ass and your lower belly was now pressing on the mattress as he lay on top of your back as his cock was still deep inside you.

"I promise to make you never cry even worse, not loving you. I will love you and care for you forever, baby girl. Please say yes, and if you will say no, I promise I will just end the contract right now, and if you get pregnant, you can abort the child." He said as he slowly pulled out of you and turned you around only earning a soft smile from you and a bit teary eyes by the intense lovemaking earlier.

"Fine, I will be yours forever.." you said and he wiped tears from your eyes. "Thank you, my little meow meow!" He said in a really happy and charming voice and he nuzzled his face on your neck again and inhaled your scent.

"How about a round two, meow meow? I swear if you say yes this time again, you will be cumming over my face,"

The nicknames he gave you, were making you fluster so much, 'Baby girl' is okay but 'meow meow' was so cute and sexy to hear at the same time.

He made you blush for the 100th time as he pulled you close to his chest while kissing your neck and you eventually said it. "Yes, why not." You said in a playfully and teasing voice and he smirked.

END

Masterlist

Instagram- @fanficbtss13 (Diva/디바)

Wattpad- @fanficbtss13 (Taetaeboba Corner)

Youtube- @fanficbtss13 (Taetaeboba Corner)

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mylovejimimi · 1 year ago

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SNEAK PEEK | MINIMONI ONE SHOT

— PAIRING: boyfriend!jimin x fem!reader x friend!namjoon x ??? — GENRE: smut +18. minors dni — WARNINGS: tba (but honestly, a lot) — SUMMARY: It's your sweet, loving boyfriend's turn to plan your weekly date, and his sweet, homey plan comes with an exciting surprise in the form of a friend that he totally forgot was crashing at his place. A little something that I'll post after editing <3

SHARING IS CARING, AND JIMIN CARES A LOT

“Who is the spoiled pillow bitch now?” And he kissed you, knowing both of you were just seconds away from the best orgasm of the year.

And then, a phone rang strepitously right there in the living room, some meters away from where you were. And you knew it was neither yours nor your boyfriend's.

Both you and Jimin jumped in your places, separating from each other's body once you saw a blushing and frantic Namjoon hurriedly looking for his phone in his pants. With one hand, Jimin hurried to help you fix your bra and top that were half off your body, while with the other hand, he tried to put himself inside his own pants as hastily. As if Namjoon hadn't been watching your passionate encounter for the last five minutes.

Your head? Empty, come back later. Your body? Burning with shame and, well... other things had arised too.

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mapofthesea · 2 years ago

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goalie!hoseok x social media manager!reader, fem!reader

hockey!au

genre: fluff, smut, some angst

word count: 5.7k

summary: on paper, keeping your relationship with internationally famous goalie Jung Hoseok quiet is a great idea. In practice, it makes shaking off the attention of other men without suspicion quite difficult.

warnings: general sports talk, Hoseok is possessive, pre-existing but lowkey relationship, swearing, arguing (between hobi & rival player), brief mention of hockey game logistics/terms, hobi talks about hurting someone and subsequently throws hands (hockey level violence, mention of blood), reader and hobi are very in love. Specific smut warnings include: Dom!hoseok x sub!reader, unprotected sex, mild degradation but she's into it, praise, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), slight hair pulling, dirty talk, consent because its sexy, he presses on her stomach while he’s inside her (idk what to call that 😬), sloppy kisses, multiple orgasms, he cums inside, aftercare ofc.

PSA: for those of you who are hockey literate: I know that goalies cannot be team captains, so it makes no sense that Hoseok would be the one doing the ceremonial puck drop at the beginning of the game, but creative liberties and all that.

(tagging @here2bbtstrash as per previous request :) )

an: as always, please DO NOT read this if you are under 18 or uncomfortable with the content. I am not responsible for your media consumption when I provide proper warnings! Alsoooo this is a work of fiction, and it never hurts to remember that. As always, I do not proof read so there may be some typos. Happy birthday month Hobi, ty for being one of my muses, love you <3

Hoseok leans into his stretch, making a show of extending his pretty neck side to side as you watch on. He catches your stare and smirks, heat blooming your cheeks as you try to focus on editing the graphic on your phone. It’s the late afternoon of a big game day where the Bangtan Boom are coming head to head with the largest rival team in the region. The game is already sold out, and a feeling of uncertainty has befallen the arena that even the all-star line can’t seem to shake.

Hiding your smile becomes hard when Hoseok lets out a satisfied sigh, plopping down on the bench just far enough away from you to be unassuming to onlookers if there were any.

“Hey there!” He addresses you like you’re nothing more than coworkers, and despite the vacancy around you, you decide to indulge him.

“Oh, hello there.” You blink owlishly at him, “is there anything I can help you with?”

A heart shaped grin splits his face as he tries to keep up with the charade. “Oh, I just wanted to come take a little break.” He drums his fingers against his thigh, and you just know that underneath his loose athletic shorts there’s a wealth of firm, smooth skin. You swallow harshly and glance around before sliding over, leaving just inches between the two of you.

It feels delightfully childish to be inching toward him like this; looking around for watchful eyes as if your mom would pop out and catch you canoodling with the handsome goalie if you weren’t careful. This close up, you can see the pretty lashes fluttering against his cheeks with every blink.

“My, you’re quite handsome for a hockey player,” you tease, squinting as if you’d never considered the fact before. His face lights up, eyes crinkling with the force of his smile.

“Really? That’s what my girlfriend says too! Don’t worry, I won’t tell her. She tends to get jealous.” He extends an arm behind you on the bench, grazing the side of your neck with his calloused fingers. A shiver wracks your body but you pretend to be unaffected as you pout at him.

"Oh, damn, I didn't know you had a girlfriend! She must be pretty lucky..." He smiles at your leading statement, now thumbing at the soft locks of hair at the nape of your neck.

"Nah, I'm the lucky one. She's beautiful, and smart, and talented, and funny, and sometimes she does this thing with her tongue-" Your face flames and you drop the act, shoving his side in retaliation to the words. Hoseok lets out a belly laugh as your attempt to move him fails. "What? It's all true!" He throws his hands in the air in mock resignation and an unbidden laugh bubbles out of you.

"You're ridiculous. And I love you." You can feel your cheeks strain with the force of your smile, and there's no denying that Hoseok is the only person who makes you feel this way. He was the only person you had eyes for long before you began dating, and even after 2 years you still feel giddy being near him.

"I love you too, baby." His voice has dropped an octave from its usual, and your brain stalls as he slides away from you, taking his body heat and penetrating stare with him. You want to pout, but the sound of dress shoes clacking against the concrete floor steels you.

"Hoseok, there you are!" A suited team executive yells, immediately clapping your boyfriend on the shoulder as soon as he stands. "We were looking for you everywhere, we have to get into the locker room and start warming up!" Hoseok nods easily, more than ready to go, but the executive catches you in the corner of his eye.

"Oh, miss Y/N! Nice to see you, too. I would have assumed you'd be up in your office!" His eyes slide between you and Hoseok, and alarm bells ring in your head.

"O-oh, I was, but I needed a quote from Hoseok for our charity game posts...so, that's why-" you lick your lips nervously, careful to avoid Hoseok's eyes, "I'll be going now!" You rush off before he can say anything else, stomach churning with anxiety at the situation. The walk to your office is already brief, but you make it there in about half the time. In the solitude you let out a shaky breath, smacking your own forehead in reproach. There's no way he would have been suspecting your involvement with Hoseok at the beginning of the conversation, but after your awkward explanation, he might be connecting the dots.

You feel sick to your stomach at the thought, sure of the media storm that would follow the news. You force yourself to swallow the burn in your throat and collect your frayed nerves. The game was just hours away, and being visibly nervous wouldn't help anything. Until you got home tonight you had to pretend that Jung Hoseok was nothing more than a player on the team you work for.

---

That's always easier said than done. No matter how many hockey games you had watched and worked, the sight of Hoseok sweaty and fresh off of the warmups ice always makes your heart flutter. You steal sneaky glances his way while he converses with his teammates, a severe look on his face. The crease in his brow reminds you of just how serious this game is to him, the chance to prove himself against their fiercest competition; but it also lights a fire of arousal in your stomach to see him that focused. He licks his lips and you feel like you may spontaneously combust, reminded of just how adept he can be with that tongue, and the way sweat runs in rivulets down his face and neck...

"Miss Y/N!" The same executive from earlier appears to materialize out of thin air as he calls your name. You startle and turn to face him, plastering a smile on your face.

"Hi, what can I do for you?" You ask, hoping that the genial way you clasp your hands together will excuse the unprofessional staring from before. The executive grins and points widely toward the rink entrance where special guests help facilitate the ceremonial puck drop.

"As you know this is a big game, so we have someone pretty important for the puck drop and I would love to make sure you get something posted for the accounts about it." He supplies.

It's an easy enough task, and you don't bother to tell the older man that you were planning on doing so anyway. The walk there is fairly long, looping past the staff bathrooms and break room before you come close to passing the guest locker room. The door to it is closed, but a man stands on the opposite wall, looking confused.

He's tall and built like you would expect a hockey player to be- with a small mop of unruly blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He's surely handsome, but you haven't found anyone as attractive as Hoseok since the day you met him. You're intent on walking right past the man, but he sees your ID and lights up immediately.

"Hey, excuse me! I uh- need to go over for the ceremonial puck drop and I don't know which way to go." He smiles apologetically and you finally register the sewed on 'C' on his jersey, a mirror of Hoseok's own but in a different color. Although he's the rival team's captain, he's still a human being first, so you return a smile.

"I'm heading there too, you can come with me. I'm Y/N, the social media manager. You are?"

If he takes offense to you not knowing his name it doesn't show. He easily falls in step next to you as you circle the arena. "I'm Brenden March. Nice to meet you, Y/N. And thanks for walking me. I tend to get lost at away games and my guys make fun of me." You can't help but chuckle at him; seeming so unassuming even though he's likely a beast on the ice.

"No problem, I'm used to rounding up our guys anyway; they're always all over the place."

"I can see why they send you to do that. Any guy would be lucky to have you walk them around an arena." The playful lilt of his voice gives you pause, and you nearly have to shake your head to clear it. Surely he wasn't flirting with you? You had been out of the game so long, it's genuinely hard for you to tell what his intentions are.

"I'm just usually walking around anyway," you offer, gauging his reaction as you reach the right entrance for the rink.

"I'm sure you do more than that around here," he fully grins at you now, leaned against the nearest wall with his arms crossed over his chest. The two of you are the first to arrive and anxiety spikes in you. You want to be hospitable, as you do represent the team, but you weren't sure how much longer you could talk to him without it being awkward.

"Other than running our socials, I try to keep out of the way, to be honest." You feel small under his intense gaze, especially so when he tuts at you.

"They gotta hide you away, pretty. I can only imagine how distracted those guys must get if they see you out there," he jabs a finger toward the ice and you hope desperately for a third party to join you and break the tension. "There's a reason coaches are always men," he continues, smirking at you as if you're supposed to find that flattering or funny.

You say nothing, but you can feel your face flush from anxiety, which he of course mistakes for flattery.

"Awe, don't have anybody to compliment you around here, pretty? I wouldn't mind taking that role if it needs filled..." his voice takes on a unmistakable drawl that makes you want to vomit. Before you can even respond, you feel the air shift as Brenden straightens against the wall.

You know his presence, his scent, before he even speaks.

"She's more than taken care of by this team, thanks." The venom in Hoseok's voice makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He skirts around you, careful not to touch you and give himself away. Brenden gives a scoff at his words.

"You gonna let him speak for you, Y/N? Is he your boyfriend or something?" He seems inordinately upset, likely more mad at being ignored by you than anything else. He pushes himself off of the wall to stalk closer to you and it takes a lot out of you to stand your ground. Hoseok is calculated in his movements, standing behind the rival so you can see him over the mans shoulder. The look on his face is positively murderous; eyes narrowed in on the two of you.

"No, he's definitely not my boyfriend! I just don't- no thank you." You finally squeak, peeking back at Hoseok. You always feel awful for denying your relationship in front of him, even though it was a term you both agreed on. Brenden seems decent enough to back down when you say no, or at least he's given up on the pursuit now that Hoseok is around.

No matter the reason, the special guest arrives with his family seconds later, and the two players morph into media ready smiles at the drop of a hat. You introduce yourself and set them up for a few photos together before the game officially starts; but you can still see the venomous looks being passed between the men. A feeling of helplessness washes over you as they do the puck drop; the two players crouched head to head over the puck as the whole arena watches on. Hoseok's jaw is clenched, and you can only imagine what kind of foul things he's holding back.

The special guest and his family are ushered to their seats and Brenden disappears to head back to his team's entrance. Hoseok hesitates, eyes burning into your figure.

"I'm gonna fucking crush him." He whispers, brushing a gentle peck against your forehead before leaving.

---

Usually you make a habit of circulating the rink during games, either taking photos of talking to other workers, but today you find yourself rooted to the glass behind Hoseok's goal. It's not the most convenient place to watch the game, and you constantly flinch as pucks fly your way, but it's the best you can do to be close to him for now. They're tied at the end of the final period, and you can tell Hoseok is shook up from the way he smacks his stick against the ice as his teammates get stuck at the other end, fighting for the puck. The whole arena seems to be holding its breath to see the outcome of the top two teams coming head to head.

"Fuck, come on guys!" Hoseok yells loud enough that you can hear him, and you have the overwhelming urge to yell support back to him but you hold your tongue. His team loses control of the puck and race back to play defense, Hoseok immediately putting his guard back up as he gets advanced on. You only have eyes for him but that doesn't mean you're invisible to everyone else, and unfortunately Brenden is among the pack advancing on Hoseok. You can see him smirk even from behind the glass as he circles up, vying to get the puck so he can take the glory of a goal. Luckily the defensemen keep him off and he skates to behind the goal.

To the crowd and his teammates, it certainly looks like a strategic move to catch the puck if one of his teammates whiffs it around the back, but it's evident to you that he only went there to mess with Hoseok.

"Can't keep the fucking pucks out today, buddy? Still wound up about earlier?" His taunting makes you wince even though its not for you. Wisely, Hoseok gives no reaction. Two players fight over the puck, so Brenden has time to continue. "She's real pretty, you know? Sure you never went for it? You seemed awful upset. Did she turn you down?" Hoseok hunkers down further, taps his stick against the ice again. "Oh, I get it, she's fucking one of your buddies?" Your heart clenches despite knowing its not true, and you want nothing more than to personally punch Brenden in the face. The players fighting over the puck begin to move; thankfully Hoseok's teammates are the ones taking the puck with them. Despite to being time for him to move, too, Brenden can't seem to resist one final jab. "Hey, by the way, when we win- I'm gonna show her what she's missing."

You suck in a breath, shortly getting drowned out by the sound of the roaring crowd as the puck gets closer to the net, playing in tandem to the seconds ticking down. One strong shot at the net and it's over, loud sirens and cheers marking a game well played and victory for the Bangtan Boom. You let out a sigh of relief, glad that the horrific night can finally come to end- until you see Hoseok flying across the ice, gloves disregarded on the ice as he goes. His teammates try to catch him; pull him into a celebratory hug as the announcers praise them, but he bypasses them all and launches straight for Brenden, swinging for the man's face.

Several gasps of shock, including your own, punctuate the air as Brenden struggles to fight back, pulling on Hoseok's jersey and landing a few punches of his own. The refs jump on them as soon as they realize what's happening, and in a flurry of fists and whistles they separate. As always, the crowd cheers as a ref steers Hoseok off of the ice but your stomach turns. Instigating a fight outside of game time will surely cause him trouble- and what would he say if anyone asked him the reason? Goalies starting fights is rare to begin with, but especially so outside of game time.

The rest of the players shuffle into the locker room and you dumbly follow suit, unsure what to do next. You don't dare to go near the locker rooms, fearful of both Brenden and whatever punishment Hoseok might be getting, so you loiter dumbly in the hallway near the bathroom.

Other staff members pass you and wave and you return the gesture without much thought. You have no idea how long you stand there; but eventually the team heads out of the locker room looking showered and refreshed. Hoseok is at the very tail end, emerging behind even the coaching staff. The skin under his left eye is already bruising. Unbidden, your lip wobbles as a sob works its way up your throat.

"Hobi..." you gasp his name before the tears come on strong; blurring your vision so much that you don't see him approach before he's engulfing you in a hug.

"I'm okay, why are you crying? It's not like I've never been in a fight before!" You nod against him but continue crying despite the logic. Hoseok pets your hair down and sighs.

"Let's get to the car first." You offer no resistance as he leads you out of the arena. It cleared surprisingly fast, and only a few cars remain in the parking lot. The two of you don't usually travel to or leave from games together, but Hoseok abandons your cautions for now and gathers you into his SUV.

He turns the heat up to your preferred temperature and makes sure you're buckled before he begins the drive home.

"Sorry for crying, I was just worried about you." You offer, admiring the slope of his nose as he drives. "Just...did you get in trouble for it?"

His Adam's apple bobs. "Not too much, baby. Just not starting lineup next game. Nothing to worry about, I promise. And that fucker deserved it." He takes a left turn much harder than usual, and you know the fight didn't assuage all of his anger. "If you could have heard the awful things he was saying to me, chirping out the ass behind the net when his team needed his help-"

"I did," you offer meekly. "I did hear it. I was behind you." Hoseok's freshly bruised hands flex and tighten on the steering wheel.

"Well then I should have beat him harder. Bashed those smug fucking teeth in until he was spitting them out." He growls and your stomach flutters with arousal over how willing he was to stand up for you, even if you weren't publicly declared as a couple.

"It's okay, Hobi. I wouldn't want you in any more trouble." You pause to admire the lights of the city and how they reflect off of the shine of his hair. "Even though it is pretty sexy to see you fight for me," you tease, placing a hand on his knee and gently squeezing.

"Well, I can tell you that's never happening again." He carefully laces his fingers with your own and you take that as an indication he's starting to feel lighter.

"Damn, so no more fights in my honor? But you're soooo brave, my handsome prince!" He grins despite the heavy night and it makes your heart soar to provide him with the same weightless feeling he gives you.

"No, no more hiding this. Us. I know you're worried about our jobs, but baby, fighting every douchebag player who finds you hot is gonna do a lot more damage than us going official. I can't stand not being able to claim you anymore." Your face flushes at the sincerity in his voice; and as he parks in your garage you pull his face towards you.

He will surely be black and blue in the morning; but it's just a faint pink for now. He doesn't hesitate to kiss you, pressing his chapped lips against your own for only a moment before he indulges in your taste altogether.

"You can claim me whenever you want, Hobi." You whisper against him and he moans, deep and guttural, and you both work to rid yourselves of the confines of the car.

Making it to your bedroom isn't even a conscious decision- your bodies carry you on instinct alone until you're in the unmade sheets from this morning, devouring each other's mouths.

There's no preamble to taking off your clothes. Each of you understand exactly where this is going, and you're too preoccupied with getting his mouth back on yours to discuss it. You groan in appreciation as his smooth skin is revealed, lean and capable muscle taunting you as he sheds his bottoms. Hoseok has always been proud of his body, but the admiration from you never hurts to reinforce his confidence.

You shiver with excitement at the sight of his cock already bobbing at his stomach, the slight curve of it so tantalizing that you forget that your underwear is still on.

Hoseok laughs and bends down to level with you at your spot on the bed. "Do I have to do that for you?" He teases, eyes twinkling as your startle. You start to hesitate but he's already creeping his fingers up your thighs, leaving paths of lightning against your skin. Your underwear are gone in a few tugs, forgotten on the bedroom floor, but Hoseok's fingers remain. They coax your thighs apart, gentle eyes encouraging you to lay back onto the messy sheets.

"My pretty baby..." He muses, ghosting over your pelvis, just above where you're throbbing with need for him. Your hips lift, hoping to persuade him to travel further and he surprisingly relents. A gasp leaves you as he traces the seam of your lips, parting them gently with two long fingers before collecting the wetness already there.

"You always wet for me, or was it the fight?" You know he's only teasing but the arousal in your veins has turned you complacent and pleasantly fuzzy.

"Always," you whine and lift your hips into his hand again, hoping to feel one of his fingers catch along your clit. He seems content to avoid it for now; instead burying the tip of his finger into your opening.

"'m gonna stretch this little pussy out, cause I know you can't take me if I don't." The truth of the words strikes through you, nodding rapidly as your wetness makes way for his finger.

You clutch his strong wrist; able to feel the flex of every muscle in his hand as it works inside of you. A second finger pushes in and your walls adjust immediately, eager to suck in whatever he offers you. His thumb finally presses against your clit with just enough pressure to remind you its there.

"Hobi," you sigh his name and he gives you a signature heart-shaped grin.

"Love it when you say my name like that with my fingers wrecking your little pussy."

"F-for you," you echo as he crooks the pair just right, brushing the spot that makes your eyes roll back. "Yours."

Hoseok moans, loud, and you feel your insides light with pride again.

"That's right, all mine. Mine for ever and ever." He speeds his pace and you choke on a gasp. Pleasure wells in you surprisingly fast and Hoseok knows the signs; your thighs tremble, nails digging into his wrist, and he leans down to steal a kiss from you right before you come.

You moan into the kiss, the gentle ebb of your first orgasm increasing as Hoseok works you through it and nibbles on your neck. Your mind clears and you bristle against the strands of his hair tickling you.

"Hobi, stop it," you giggle, playfully shoving at his head while he extracts his fingers. You can feel his pout against the burning heat of your neck but he easily retracts. Your eyes can't help but track him so you can only watch in awe as he sticks the fingers that were just inside of you into his own mouth and cleans them off with a lewd pop. If you weren't already liquified with pleasure, the look of ecstasy on his face would've done it.

"Look, now we'll match," he remarks casually, trailing his saliva covered fingers over the bruise he left on the column of your neck. You shudder under his touch and the intensity of the stare he levels at you.

A sudden thought wracks you. "Hobi, honey, I never thanked you." You lean into the saccharine sweetness of your voice as you sit up and his eyebrows raise in interest. He seems happy to let you guide the moment, sitting back onto the bed so you can rise onto your knees. Your fingernails bite into the hard planes of his chest and create a tantalizing trail downward over his nipples, between the ridges of his abs. Delight runs through you when he shivers and drops his head back against his shoulders.

"Do you mind if I say thank you?" You tease, finally cupping his cock in your hands.

"Fuck, of course not baby. Love it when you thank me." You can hear the smirk in his voice and you have to hold back a laugh as you lower yourself onto your knees and elbows and waste no time engulfing his cock in your mouth. You lick the tip, circling your tongue the way you know he likes and the praise flows instantly. His hands tangle in your hair and tug you down further, forcing your mouth full as you sputter. Spit escapes you and coats his cock but only aids the glide as you bob up and down on him.

"Shit, baby. I love you and your dirty little mouth," he hazards another thrust of his hips and you swallow around his length in response. "Lettin' me do whatever to you, thanking me for fighting for you, my sweet little girl? Happy to go brain numb and let me use you?" You keen and nod around him, pushing yourself down on his cock until your eyes are watering.

"God, wish I knew that asshole's number so I could show him what he's really missing." The moan that leaves you is instant, rumbling against his cock and inspiring a similar sound from his own throat.

"Like that idea? Want him to know how good you suck my cock?" Hoseok pulls errant strands of hair away from your face and the gentle touch makes your heart kick up in happiness. "Sorry baby, not gon' happen. I'm the only one that gets to see your pretty eyes when you suck my dick." His voice wavers as you choke around him, making a mess of him with the saliva.

You feel his cock twitch rapidly and he sucks a deep breath in. His hands leave your hair to press under your jaw, thumbs resting presently over your pulse points. "Off." He demands, and the edge in his voice tells you he means now, and you have no interest in disobeying him after today.

A string of saliva connects you as you pull off and clear your throat, immediately sitting up on your knees and gripping his wide shoulders.

"Hi, my pretty girlfriend." He muses, kissing your forehead. You highly doubt that you look exactly pretty right now; you had no time to take your makeup off and you know there's trails of spit over your chin and neck.

"Hi, my pretty boyfriend." You mirror, massaging your fingers into his shoulders, allowing both of you a moment to reset and catch your breath before the endurance match coming next. Your insides twist with anticipation as he coaxes you into a sloppy kiss, nipping at your bottom lip with reckless abandon as he guides you to lay down again.

He slots perfectly above you, legs fitting between your open thighs with practiced ease. The press of his hard cock against your pussy makes you breathless and needy for him again; the relief from your first orgasm long replaced by renewed desire.

"Hobi," your face flames in anticipation of your next words, the effect that they'll have on his plans for the night. He locks his eyes on you, expectant of more as he rocks his hips minutely against you. "Claim me?"

"You perfect woman, how could I ever want to do anything else?" Tears well and threaten to spill as he smiles blindingly. "Now lemme..." he traces your lower stomach, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch. Anticipation burns you from the inside out. He finally acquiesces, rearing his hips back to give his cock a few strokes. They're wholly unnecessary, but you still enjoy the show.

"Good?" His voice rasps but you can make it out and voice your readiness. He pushes your knees toward your chest and puts his bruised knuckles on display; a stunningly sexy reminder of what partly lead you here. Your stomach dips and flutters as he presses the fat head of his cock against your entrance.

The feeling of instant relief strikes you both as he pushes in, allowing the contours of his cock to shape your inner walls. With your legs held in place by his bodyweight, he takes the liberty to hold onto your waist; big hands spanning across you and over your stomach.

Your moans leave you unbidden as he works his entire length inside of you. "Like coming home." He whispers, and the simple statement loaded with so much truth makes you keen, muscles tightening around him.

"Hobi, please do something-" His tendency to start slow was always for your benefit, but right now it was something you could certainly live without.

He puffs out a breath and surprisingly obeys; likely just as needy as you are. He moves quickly, raising the tempo of his hips so abruptly that you nudge up the bed and rumple the sheets even more. His pretty grunts mix with the lengthy moans you can't contain to create a sinful cocktail that only makes you feel more consumed by him.

"Fuckin' like that!" You encourage, eager for him to repeat the exact angle and tempo that made your toes curl.

"Got you, baby. Right there?" He teases, repeating the motion but this time with the added pressure of his hand over your abdomen, pressing directly into the spot where the tip of his cock reaches. You convulse under his ministrations and as reliable as always, Hoseok intuits your needs and strums a finger over your clit. Electricity sparks your veins and you tighten around him, encouraging the stuttered tempo of his hips that signals his end.

"C'mon baby, waiting for you to soak my cock so I can fill you up." A loud moan erupts from you at the statement. "Isn't that what you wanted, hmm? Me to claim you and this pretty pussy all for myself?" He pushes on your stomach again, adding to the pressure already mounted inside your pussy and you only squeak before you cum. The world flashes white behind your eyelids and you feel like you're floating, faintly aware of Hoseok's moans as he praises you for coming.

His efforts double and you fight through the fog in your head to focus on the beautiful expression on his face as he comes, pulsing deep into you. He slumps, beautiful skin slick with sweat sticking against your own as he lays his weight on you. Normally it would be suffocating or annoying- you often had to poke him awake if he laid on you like this at night- but the contact grounded you. His face nuzzles into your neck and you wrap your arms around his frame, tracing the planes of his back as well as you can.

"I love you, Hobi. Like a lot." You don't know why tears burn behind your eyes at the words; they were exchanged between the two of you several times a day. He shifts, pushing his body up over you and beginning the slow removal of his cock. You both wince at the chance but he softens the feeling by grinning at you.

"I love you too, Y/N. Can I ask you something?" He blushes and you instantly worry your brow, curious as to what could have your wonderfully outgoing and vocal boyfriend so nervous.

You nod, cupping his warm, bruised cheek in a gentle hand. He still glows even after such a long day.

"Do you-. Earlier I said that I wanted to claim you," you both flush at his words now that the haze of arousal has subsided. "And as much as I enjoyed that, I meant..." He frowns and you mirror it.

"Can we go public? In whatever way you're most comfortable with, but please, Y/N? I can't keep doing stuff like today." He's sincerely nervous to ask, but your face melts into an immediate smile once you hear.

"Of course we can, Hobi. I'm tired of it too. You know, I think that executive was starting to put the pieces together and it honestly made me want to puke." You grimace but he laughs, bubbly and sweet and everything purely him.

"Baby, he already knows. He wanted to set me up with his daughter a few months ago, and I couldn't come up with a good excuse so I just told him." Your mouth slacks open and he laughs even harder, rolling onto his back and clapping a hand over his mouth.

"I'm sorry, baby. I thought the reveal would be funny. I was right." You roll your eyes and smack his arm playfully, a joyful mirror of the way the two of you began the day at the arena.

"I'm leaving!" You huff dramatically and haul yourself up from the bed, leaving a whining Hoseok behind to go to the ensuite bathroom. All it takes is the sound of the shower running for him to reappear by your side, practically begging to get back in your good graces.

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jimxnslight · 2 years ago

Text

Finally Free || PJM

Summary: Kidnapped at a young age, Y/N is forced to work for an organisation that specialises in killing. All is well until she begins to realise her partner, Park Jimin, may be keeping more secrets from her than she realised.

Pairing: Park Jimin x reader

Genre: Assassin reader, assassin Jimin, enemies (?) to friends to lovers, assassins AU, angst

Word Count: 22.9k

Warnings: Kidnapping, murder/assassination, gun violence, knife violence, physical violence, major character death, mentions of a dead animal, blood, heated making out

“Once upon a time, there was a girl.

She was haughty and smug, plagued with the impression that those around her were inferior in every way possible. Her notion was not without foundation, for she topped her classes again and again, excelled in every activity she’d ever bothered to try, and had every student in the school wishing her to give them the time of day. Teachers lifted her with commendation and boys begged for but a simple chance.

Her only problem was that she was too good, and she didn’t bother to hide it.

She would revel in the praises of her classmates, flaunting her grades and trophies to no limits. New strangers were not seen as the beginning of a novel relationship, but new opportunities to show off her excellence. Adoration had become her perpetual melody.

Until one day the turntable turned no more.

The girl brushed her hair softly as she sat in front of her dresser, watching as the silky curls bounced against her nightgown. She was in awe at her porcelain skin and the delicate dip of her nose. Admiration for herself was nothing out of the ordinary, enough to put even a man like Narcissus to shame. But what she didn’t notice that night was the shadow watching her from afar.

Its gaze fixated through the cool glass of the window with focus and intensity. Had the girl been just a little aware, she might have even caught it, but she was much too immersed in stretching across her bed happily as thoughts of tomorrow’s exam results filled her with glee.

Her ignorance continued as the shadow finally moved, slithering within the darkness until it emerged from the shadows, slowly stepping towards the girl.

That was the last time anyone had ever seen her again.

Her parents had sworn they had heard a scream erupt from their daughter’s room at the strike of midnight, but upon stumbling into her room, they were only met with an empty bed, a window left wide open, and a message engraved on the alabaster wall dripping in crimson red blood:

‘We see all, we know all, we control all.’

The next day, gasps reverberated against the walls of the school. Not at the news of the girl’s disappearance, no the parents had not disclosed such information just yet, but at the results board that had been pinned in the hallway.

The girl that had never gotten below a full mark in her life had just received a zero, her name written boldly at the end of the list of students.

The day after, the school newspaper’s front page had, for the first time, displayed a headline worthy of turning the students' heads. It had been a three page summary of every sin the girl had ever committed, from cheating on her boyfriend in the eighth grade to bullying her friends into obedience in the tenth.

At the end of the newspaper, was an oddly written sign off.

‘We see all, we know all, we control all.’

One by one, everything the girl had worked hard for throughout her life had been torn down within a month- her reputation, her achievements, her school rank. Until one day, even the mention of her name was met with scoffs and rolled eyes.

‘It’s good she’s gone, she got what she deserved.’

‘If she’s really done all that, I hope she’s dead.’

‘She was snobby and arrogant anyway, good riddance.’

Jealousy is such an easy tool to play with, and they indeed played it with ease. But their intentions were not influenced by such an emotion. The pettiness of an action motivated by jealousy was far too low for their standards. They took the girl because they wanted her. They wanted her brain, her body, her soul. And they didn’t need to ask permission from anyone.

Because they see all.

They know all.

And they control all.

So, what is the moral of the story?”

The room was met with silence. Once upon a time you would rush to fill the quiet void created by the darkness of midnight and your mother’s expectations. Her words would seep into the marrow of your bones and create some of the worst nightmares you could think of.

But now you could only scoff.

“Don’t be a show off,” the words left your lips automatically. You were only half paying attention anyway, the mind of a nine year old tended to do that when being told the same story for what was probably the hundredth time.

All you wished to do was burrow into the blanket covering your frame and fall into the peace that was a gift of sleep.

Your mother simply hummed. She had asked this question as many times as she had told the story, and your reply was always the same. Even her hum in response was no different from the other times. It was never any indication as to whether the answer satisfied her, only a mere act of acknowledgement.

But instead of turning off the nightlight of your room and calling it a night like she always did, this time she stayed behind, gaze boring into yours as she watched your tiny figure hugging the pillow on the large bed.

“Is that truly what you believe the moral to be?” She asked unusually.

Your mother has always been ominous in everything she said. You were sure her words always held some kind of double meaning, like she knew things you didn’t and she wanted to make sure you knew it.

“Yes?” You replied, doubt weakening your response. Up until now, you had always believed that your answer had been adequate enough.

Was it not?

Your mother chuckled, another unusual action for her. Tonight seemed to be full of surprises.

“You will figure it out one day,” she stood, obviously refusing to answer anything in a way that might make sense.

“Did you lock your window?” She asked, checking the lock anyway.

You nodded your head, another routine question answered flatly.

“Then let your dreams give you comfort,” she said, one of the rare phrases of hers that genuinely brought warmth to your chest.

“Goodnight,” you replied, watching her walk out of the room while gently closing the door behind her.

Your room was drenched in the night’s darkness, only a sliver of moonlight allowing you to see the outline of the fancy furniture distributed throughout the room. You could hear the screeching caw of a bird outside your window, the tick tocks of the grandfather clock hiding behind your dresser, and the occasional tussle of your bedsheet as you squirmed around.

You were restless tonight, the words of your mother oddly bothering you awake.

If the moral of the story wasn’t to not show off, then what else could it possibly be? If the girl had not flaunted her achievements, they wouldn’t have known how smart she was and they wouldn’t have taken her. It was a logical answer with a logical explanation.

You huffed as you pushed the blanket off yourself and made your way to the window, eyeing the bright moon as you swam in the ocean that was your thoughts.

Maybe she should have tried to be more likeable? If she had been more genuine towards her friends, they might have liked her enough to search for her after her disappearance. That’s how it was in those movies, wasn’t it? The main character’s friend disappears, the police close the case due to lack of evidence, and then the main character takes it upon themself to search for their friend alone.

Maybe that was what your mother was trying to point towards?

You sighed, not feeling any kind of enlightenment at your ideas. Your small hands found the lock of the window and pulled it open, feeling the light breeze of the fresh air outside.

Life is not a movie my dear child. Reality is a lot more harsh than what they make it out to be.

Your mother’s words echo in your mind, though you don’t even remember when she’s ever said them. She seemed to have grown a consciousness of her own in your head. You suppose most people would classify that as some kind of mental illness.

You felt yourself lean forward, resting your arms on the windowsill as you closed your eyes and basked in the chill breeze. For a fleeting moment, you wondered what it would feel like to walk outside, to feel soft grass, or hard sidewalk concrete. That was what normal people did, didn’t they? They went on walks and played in parks. But you had never done those things. Maybe that’s why you felt like you were going crazy.

As you opened your eyes, they suddenly flitted across a shadow that you swear you saw on the stone driveway of your house. It had been small, and if it had really existed, then it had also been very quick. You strained your neck forward so that you could get a better look outside of the window. Your driveway was still within your house thanks to a tall iron gate, so no one other than your mother and the maids could be outside and at this hour it was unlikely that any of them would even be up at all.

Deep in your thoughts, you didn’t realise just how far you had been leaning against the window until you felt your hold on the windowsill slip. Your arms slipped forward, bringing your whole body with you. You only had a second to register the fact that you were going to fall, from a height that could very much kill you. But you didn’t. Your body didn’t slip outside of the window, nor did it hit against the hard stone driveway. Instead, you felt a hand grab your collar from behind, and throw you across your bedroom. Your back collided with the wood of your dressing table, causing pain to flare in your bones.

That’s when you finally saw him.

A figure wrapped in black clothes stood before you as he breathed heavily. The only parts of him that were uncovered were his hair and hands, otherwise his face was covered by a black mask.

You tried to get yourself to your feet, to scream at the sight of his presence, but he was much quicker. His hands were on you in seconds, one pinning you roughly to the floor while the other was held tightly against your lips.

Of course you struggled, but the figure kept you pinned with strength you could not match. You suddenly felt like the girl in the story your mother had just told you about.

Except this was real life. Either you would die here or you would be taken somewhere else.

With an idea forming into your mind, you slowly stopped struggling, letting your limbs fall to your side. The figure must have thought you were giving up because you could feel his grip loosening.

But he was wrong to think you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

In a quick motion, you moved to hit him on the head. But even with the element of surprise on your side he was still quicker. Instead you hand connected with his face, and in a moment of desperation, you grabbed onto the black mask covering his features.

The cloth ripped off of him, causing the two of you to freeze. He looked like a normal boy, maybe a few years older than you, but definitely no older than 12. His cheeks were soft while they were framed by his dishevelled black hair. But his eyes…

Despite their common brown colour, there was a hurricane of emotions hiding behind them. Anger, determination, fear and pain.

So, so much pain.

The two of you locked gazes for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds.

Then the boy stood and began dragging you towards your window, which was now wide open. Once you were outside, no one would be able to save you. Your fate would be handed over to this unusual boy.

A sudden panic overtook your mind.

“Wait! Please,” you begged, your hands clawing at his grip on your arm with no success, “I’ll do anything, just please let me go!”

He ignored you, continuing to walk towards his exit with no plans of stopping.

“Please,” you were crying at this point, “who are you? What do you want from me?”

At those questions, he paused for a moment before slowly turning to face your small figure. His eyes were once again on you, this time regarding your arms, then your clothes, and then lastly your eyes.

If you were in your right mind, you might have noticed the shaky breath that escaped his lips, but you were too busy being terrified over where your future lay now.

He took a bold step towards you, causing you to back away as much as his grip on your arm would let you.

“Who are we?” He asked, his voice steady. It was the only thing you could focus on without panicking before nodding slowly.

He took another step towards you, “after today your life will never be the same.”

Another step.

“You’ll either live in fear, shivering in the shadows of darkness.”

One more.

“Or you’ll learn how to hide in them and use them to rise to the top.”

You felt your back bump against a wall, but he didn’t stop until his face was barely a breath away from your own.

“Either way, you’re ours now.

Because we see all, we know all, and we control all.”

15 Years Later

“There’s no way you don’t see it. You’re dumb, but not that dumb.”

Your back leaned against the mahogany bannister in a crouched state as your neck strained to continue focusing on Jimin, who was crouched on the other side of the staircase mulling over your words. He had wisely chosen to ignore the jab you had sent him, opting instead to shift uncomfortably in his place with his position mimicking your own.

Instead of an actual response, he just scoffed, turning his head to look between the gaps of the bannister rather than your face. Despite it, you could imagine his expression clearly, furrowed eyebrows and a narrow gaze as he waited for your target.

Fortunately for the two of you, the owner of the mansion you were in had decided to go for an open concept layout, giving the two of you maximum coverage of the whole ground floor from your vantage point at the top of the wooden stairs. That, paired with the isolated nature of his mansion, was just making it too easy. You could do this mission with your eyes closed.

Which made this a perfect opportunity to bring up this topic to Jimin. It was just as much frustrating as it was pleasing how unserious he was about it.

“I’m just saying,” you began, hoping to get the conversation going once again, “if you guys dated, it would be good for your reputation within the Organisation and you’d be loaded for life.”

You had to push away the rotten feeling in your heart at the mention of Jimin dating someone. It was so pathetic, all these years pining for a man that had probably never looked at you as more than a sister. But you couldn't help it. It was like in those movies you've watched, where the character's heart fluttered at his every touch. Or when he called their name and all their problems seem to wither away. Or just the thought of him brought a smile to their face.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, that was exactly how you were. It was always fine, because if you had learned one thing from your life, even before who you are now, it was how to hide things. Hiding your emotions had especially become your specialty.

But things were changing. You were starting to watch him when he spoke for too long, you started longing for his attention a lot more now and not to mention an incident involving falling onto him during a mission where you felt like your heart would explode. You were getting bad at the one thing you thought you were good at.

And it was starting to hurt. All those years of pining weren't really torture for you, for some reason it was easy to call it nothing more than a crush back then. Knowing you could never have him was simply a fact that you didn't mind. You had his friendship and friendship was all you needed. But now, his presence did things to you, and whatever it was, it was painful. Watching him laugh only reminded you that one day it'll be someone else's and listening to him talk about the future only reminded you that one day he wouldn't be in it.

Which was why you had to do this. You had to put some kind of boundary between the two of you so that these unwelcome thoughts would leave. So that you could finally go a day without thinking about him or without wishing he was by your side all the time.

And what better way than to find him a girlfriend?

Jimin’s face turned towards you once again as you adjusted the idle gun in your hands, gaze scanning your expression and then your finger resting comfortably on the trigger. You were used to it. You had been under his constant gaze ever since you were 9 after all.

Finally he turned away, staring forward in an oddly tired way.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean no? She’s the daughter of our leader. If you two dated, even eventually got married, you’d have her father’s protection and money. You’d be set for life,” you argued, chest fluttering weirdly in the process.

But Jimin simply shook his head. You watched him for a moment, noticing his tense shoulders and furrowed eyebrows. He was a man of few words, you’d learned at least that much about him in the years you’d spent as mission partners. When something was on his mind, it took a little pushing to get him to open up. Since it was clear the mission couldn’t be what was bothering him, you guessed it was something else.

“What is it?” you asked finally, gaze flickering towards the mansion’s front door in case your target showed up, “there’s something on your mind. Come on, tell me.”

He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts in the process. Just because he didn’t talk much didn’t mean he was stupid. He was the complete opposite really. Every word that left his mouth was calculated, an immense amount of thought and intention behind every sentence.

Finally, he spoke up.

“Do you really think she likes me?”

The question felt like a hammer to your chest. Any hope you had of fostering a more intimate relationship with the man a metre or two away from you was crushed by the sliver of hope you could hear in his voice. Of course Jimin would want to date her. She was rich, gorgeous, and, most importantly of all, the daughter of the Organisation’s leader. Who wouldn’t?

You pushed down the jealousy threatening to make itself known.

“Yes, I’m very sure she does. So what’s stopping you?”

The digital watch on your wrist suddenly lit up, a coordinate flashing on the little map illustrated in black and white. The target was close, but not close enough to matter right now.

Jimin’s gaze lifted from his own watch, pausing once again, “even if she did like me, which may not even be the case, her dad would probably put my head on a silver platter before he’ll let her date me.”

“To me it seems like her dad doesn’t really care about what she does,” you thought out loud, “besides, I doubt he’d stop one of the best assassins in the Organisation from being with his daughter. If anything, he’d be glad he doesn’t have to pay for her bodyguard anymore.”

You hated how much you wanted him to refuse. To say that the real reason was because he didn’t like her like that. But his next words crushed your heart once again.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll try to talk to her when I get the chance.”

You wanted to ask him whether he’d been secretly pining over her this whole time, but it would have to be in a joking manner so that it looked like it didn’t matter to you and you don’t think you could muster up that kind of energy. You could barely muster the fake smile you sent his way.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to actually say anything because right at that moment, the doors of the mansion burst open and your target stomped into the room. Immediately you and Jimin took your positions, one knee steadying yourselves while your hands steadied the gun aiming towards the target. He hadn’t noticed the two of you yet as he grabbed one of the vases on a coffee table and sent it crashing against the fireplace.

Though his anger seemed especially exaggerated, it didn’t really matter. Your mission had already been assigned, and nowhere in the outline had it said to figure out why your target was in such a rotten mood.

So without even a glance at each other, you and Jimin each sent a bullet flying towards the target, one slashing through his right arm, while the other through his right leg. The target stumbled to the ground, flailing around while yelling obscenities that would make a viking proud.

But no matter how hard he yelled, the only people that could hear him were himself, Jimin and you.

The two of you dropped from the staircase and nonchalantly made your way to his writhing form on the living room’s carpet. The red of his blood seeped into the red of his carpet, so much so that an untrained eye might not have even been able to spot it.

“Mr. Kang,” Jimin announced. His voice when he addressed people during missions was low and authoritative, one of the only things that really scared you about him. Sometimes you could even see him leading the Organisation itself with that voice. If he started dating the leader’s daughter, would that eventually become a reality?

He continued, completely unaware of your wild thoughts, “you have betrayed the Organisation with your acts of treason, and for that, you have been sentenced to die.”

The man stared up in horror as he watched you walk up to his broken form and point your polished gun to his head. There was no one that could save him now, this was the end.

As if that realisation dawned on him, he suddenly calmed himself down. The whimpers that had been echoing around the living room ceased and he pulled himself into a somewhat sitting position.

That made you and Jimin look at each other in confusion.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he started, voice strained in pain, “they’ve made you mindless puppets only to be used for their own biddings. And when you finally stop benefiting them, they’ll throw you away the same way they’re throwing me away.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “you’re being thrown away because you’re a traitor.”

“How can I be a traitor when they betrayed me first? They promised me they’d keep him safe as long as I did their dirty work, but my years of service were rewarded with what? My own hands dirty with his blood.”

You looked over at Jimin to share your confusion but were surprised to see his shoulders tensed. He was looking at the man on the floor with an unreadable expression, but you could have sworn you caught some fear in his eyes.

The man’s eyes widened as he seemed to catch onto Jimin’s expression too, “he knows, doesn’t he?!”

He crawled forward and grabbed Jimin’s hand, but Jimin surprisingly didn’t move, “you know what is to come! Let me go! Rebel! Run away! Do not serve them even a second of your ti–”

A loud bang suddenly reverberated across the living room, putting an end to the man’s rambling. There was a shocked expression on his face as blood dripped from his forehead down to the bridge of his nose. In a matter of seconds, his body was slumped against the living room’s carpet and silence ensued.

Jimin slowly put his gun back into his holster and started drenching the place in gasoline. But you stood, completely confused by the last 5 minutes.

“What was that?” You finally asked, watching him drown the body in gas.

But Jimin remained silent as he continued quickly.

“He said something about they betraying him first… I’m assuming ‘they’ are the Organisation, but whose blood did he have on his hands? And why did he say you knew something?”

Jimin threw the empty tank of gasoline to the corner of the room and brought out a lighter, flicking it so that a small fire burst from the metal opening. He threw it to the ground, watching as the fire spread throughout the room.

The two of you made it out of the mansion, watching as it crumbled to the ground in a mixture of fire and smoke. And yet after all that, he didn’t utter a word. It made you a little frustrated.

“Jimin, I’m asking you somethin–”

“It’s nothing,” He interrupted. His voice hadn’t even been loud, but there was a firmness in it that silenced you immediately, “ I don’t know what he was talking about when he said I knew something. I don’t know whose blood is on his hands and why it’s so important. He was likely just speaking nonsense.”

Both his gaze and voice was firm as he said his next words.

“But we have nothing to be worried about, I promise.”

It took you about a week after the whole incident to forget that man and his weird words, as well as Jimin and his even weirder behaviour. But your uneasiness didn’t leave that easily. You couldn’t quite forget the tenseness of Jimin’s shoulders and the fear you had picked up on in his expression for just a millisecond of a moment.

‘He knows, doesn’t he?!’

Was Jimin really hiding something from you? It was hard to believe considering how close the two of you were growing up. Yes, Jimin was a quiet and relatively private person, but you’ve always thought that you knew him better than others.

Had you been wrong?

And you couldn’t even begin to decipher the rest of the things the man had said. He was clearly against the Organisation because… they betrayed him? But how could the Organisation owe him anything? The Organisation owes nothing to anyone. Not to people like you. Not to the world.

‘You know what is to come!’

Was something coming that the Organisation wasn’t aware about? Or was the Organisation planning something that you all, within the lower ranks of the Organisation, didn't know was coming?

You groaned, sending three bullets through the centres of the holographic targets in front of you. So much for forgetting that incident.

And to your disappointment, Jimin hadn’t said a word about it at all since that day. Instead he continued to be his usual quiet self, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Though, you couldn’t help but notice his shoulders tense once or twice in your presence, like he was expecting you to say something. But ultimately, you knew that if he didn’t reveal anything that day, he wouldn’t reveal anything through begging.

“Ms. Y/N,” a voice behind you called.

You turned around to see a man dressed in a business suit waiting for you at the entrance of the training room. He had sunglasses covering his eyes and a small black wire indicating the presence of an earpiece. Your eyebrows furrowed.

You didn’t know who that was.

The man bowed, ignoring your confusion.

“There is a mission briefing in room 314,” he announced, “please come with me.”

He started walking towards said room, but you hesitated. Mission briefings were announced through your earpieces, you’ve never been summoned through a person before.

“I would advise that you pick up your pace, Ms. Y/N,” his voice came from the hallway, “we wouldn’t want to keep your partner waiting.”

The mention of Jimin had you groaning inwardly. He could very well be lying to lure you into the room and do whatever it was he, or his boss, was intending to do. But what could happen, anyway? This was the Organisation. They saw all, they knew all, and they controlled all. How could this man be doing anything against them in their own building?

So with those thoughts in mind, and also a little worry for Jimin, you started following the man to the room. It didn’t take long, one efficient elevator ride later had you entering a room labelled ‘314’ in no time.

It looked like any other briefing room, except it looked old. There was dust accumulating in its corners, an outdated television perched on the wall and a large desk in the middle of the room with empty chairs surrounding it.

Your room scan finally revealed Jimin standing near the side, posture rigid and hands behind his back. It was how you all usually stood when talking to someone above you.

“Please, take your position next to him,” a female voice called.

You did as you were told before you looked in her direction, which was smart now that you had identified the source of the voice.

The Leader’s daughter, Han Iseul, stood elegantly at the head of the room, just barely paying attention to the two of you as she sifted through a few documents in front of her. She was dressed in business casual clothes that hugged her skinny figure well while her makeup was sharp and precise. She was trying to be nonchalant, but you could see through her facade as easily as looking through water. When she wasn’t moving, you caught her stealing quick glances at Jimin here and then.

You hadn’t been lying to Jimin when you said she had a crush on him, and this only confirmed that even more. It took a lot of self control to reel in your jealousy.

“I’ve called you here today to brief you on your new assignment,” she announced finally, placing the documents she had been reviewing before on the table in front of her, “I advise that you listen carefully.”

You’ve never heard of anyone being briefed by the Leader’s daughter before, it’s always been by your superiors who had direct contact with the Leader. They would always contact you through your earpiece, outlining the tasks you had to get done, and leave you and Jimin to do your job. It’s never been this excessive.

You suspected it might have had something to do with her little crush. Some sad attempt at getting closer to Jimin by briefing the two of you on one of your missions. She really must be whipped for him to pull something like this in such a strict organisation.

“The reason for the abnormality in your briefing today is due to the private nature of this mission,” she continued, eyeing the two of you, “this mission is to stay a secret even within the Organisation. The only ones you may mention it to are yourselves and me.”

“The task I am assigning you will require you to guard the transport of a particular cargo. The details of the cargo will not be provided, but it is imperative that this cargo make it to its destination. The transport itself will take about two days, both of which you will be on active duty. We will not risk transport at night, so the cargo will be transported to a secure location on the night between these two days.”

“Any questions?” She finally asked.

When she didn’t get an answer she nodded, “you will leave in two hours. Please prepare your gear.”

With those words, she left the room, but not before stealing a glance at Jimin one last time. It made you want to throw a chair in her face, but you knew you had no right to.

Once she had fully left, you turned towards Jimin, who had been quiet this whole time.

“Cargo protection? Since when are we, aka assassins, responsible for protecting cargo?”

“This isn’t the first time we’ve been tasked with a mission that does not involve killing someone,” he said, checking his watch for the results of his gear checkup and inventory stock. Jimin’s always been a stickler for the rules. It’s why he’s one of the best assassins in the Organisation.

“I’ll never understand why we get missions outside of our scope,” you huffed, deciding to check your own inventory. Even though the mission itself sounded stupid, Iseul had made it sound otherwise, so it must have been important. You weren’t dumb enough to be sloppy on a mission like this.

The corners of Jimin’s lips twitched in a slight smile, “I’ve already restocked your inventory and gotten your gear up to date. Just focus on not accidentally shooting the target’s sister again.”

“That was one time!” You huffed, feeling slightly offended, “besides, I doubt we’ll be shooting at anyone in this mission.”

“Lucky for you.”

You punched him in the arm, earning you an amused chuckle. The sound had butterflies swirling in your stomach until a sudden thought struck them all down.

“So… you and Iseul must have waited a while for me,” you began, dreading the answer to your question already, “did you guys talk about anything?”

The room quieted before Jimin answered your question.

“Yes, we talked a bit.”

Your eyes widened and without thinking you blurted out, “wait, seriously?”

You don’t know why that came as such a big surprise to you, he had agreed with the whole dating thing after all. But Jimin saying something and Jimin actually doing something were two different things. And now that something was actually happening, you couldn’t help but feel even worse than before.

“Nothing too specific,” he said, not giving much detail. But that’s the type of boyfriend you expected him to be, private when it came to his relationships, “just general stuff.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to ask him what ‘general’ meant. Did he mean general small talk? Or general dating stuff? Is that why Iseul was looking at him so much during the briefing? Did she realise that she finally had a chance with him? Or did Jimin already confess that he was willing to start a relationship with her? Were they already a couple?

You felt your throat start to close and tears prick the back of your eyes.

Silly girl. Didn’t I tell you boys were not worth the time of day?

It’s been a while since your mother’s voice has made an appearance in your head. In fact, it’s been a while since you’ve even thought about her at all. She was a distant memory. You could barely even remember her face. But her words have never left your mind, and right now was proof of that.

“Y/N?”

You looked up at Jimin, who was looking at you with a concerned expression. He must have been elated, knowing he would eventually become the husband of the Leader’s daughter. And here you were, a pathetic girl with a pathetic school girl crush.

“I’m going to go double check my gear,” you managed to get out before making your way out of the room.

You just hoped your voice didn’t betray how vulnerable your heart was.

The breeze lashed at your hands and shoulders as you sped on your motorcycle at the first sign of dusk. In front of you stretched an empty highway owned specifically by the Organisation, while on your left was the truck carrying the cargo you had been tasked to protect. Outside of your view you knew Jimin, who was speeding on a motorcycle similar to yours, was likely on the other side of the truck.

The two of you had been on the road for hours, silently taking in the scenery that zoomed by you. Missions usually weren’t like this. Usually, you’d be raving about the storyline of the new movie or television show you were watching recently while Jimin tried to understand with an amused expression.

But tonight, you couldn’t bring yourself to say much of anything. Iseul and Jimin’s relationship had only just started, and you already felt like a truck had run you over. You couldn’t imagine how it would be when they started getting more serious.

You shook your head in frustration, trying to get the thoughts out of your mind. Since when did you become that girl that was head over heels over a man? Why was it so hard for you to let him go?

“To your right,” you heard Jimin’s voice through your earpiece. For a second you thought he was alerting you of an attack, but when you looked to your right, you watched a bunch of horses running across an empty field together. It was enough to bring a smile to your face, watching them gallop freely.

What must it feel like to be free?

“The holding facility is just a few metres ahead,” the voice of the cargo’s driver spoke from your earpiece, “once the cargo is safely transported there, the two of you can go on break until morning.”

You could hear Jimin’s voice agree along with yours as all three vehicles turned towards the highway’s exit. The more you all continued forward, the thicker the trees beside the road started to get until you and Jimin were forced to ride behind the truck.

A few more metres later, a large facility appeared within the thicket of the forest, hidden well to anyone that wasn’t looking for it. Either way, a large metal gate stood between you three and the facility, ensuring no one could get inside unless they had clearance.

All three vehicles came to a stop in front of the gate simultaneously.

“I’ll send the message to headquarters that we’ve made it so that they unlock the gate and then I have to manually open it, so wait here and guard the cargo until I get back,” the truck’s driver said. You could feel his end of the line go silent as the truck’s door closed and he started making his way to a control panel that was likely out of sight.

That left you and Jimin standing awkwardly next to each other as you waited for the driver to come back. You don’t think the two of you have ever been this uncomfortable with each other.

Jimin seemed especially conflicted as his eyes flickered to your form every few seconds. Sometimes he’d open his mouth to say something, only to close it once again.

It was literal torture, and after a few minutes, you just couldn’t take it anymore.

You scanned the now dark area, desperate to do something other than marinate in the awkwardness. The trees surrounding you were endless and the sky exhibited a few interesting stars, but it was when you looked in front of you that you got an idea.

“Let’s look inside,” you said suddenly, pointing towards the cargo.

Jimin, who initially seemed surprised by the fact that you spoke to him, processed your words with a horrified face, “what?”

“Let’s see what’s inside this thing,” you repeated, slapping the giant metal crate, causing Jimin to flinch. You might have laughed at his horrified expression if you weren’t in such a sour mood.

“Y/N, we can’t do that,” he hissed, reaching towards your arm to pull you away from the truck, but you dodged him easily.

“We’re literally risking our lives protecting this thing, the least they can do is let us see what’s inside.”

“And what if they catch us?”

You shrugged, already working on the giant latch. Jimin tried to pull you down once again, but with no luck.

“I mean it Y/N,” he said more firmly, “they could kill us.”

“Relax, I’ll take full blame for it if we do,” you replied, finally getting the latch off.

“I don’t care about myself, I care about–”

His voice faltered as the door of the crate finally swung open. It was dark, too dark to accurately make out what exactly was inside. Jimin felt his heart drop as you took a step into the metal box.

“Y/N–” he tried again, but his eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness, and the crate’s contents could finally be deciphered.

“They’re… weapons?” You said, confusion clearly laced in your tone.

The crate was stuffed with different kinds of weapons: guns, grenades, daggers, you name it. There had to be at least thousands of them, all neatly stacked so that no space was wasted within the crate.

“What could they possibly need so many weapons for?” You thought out loud, scanning them all.

The Organisation was not in need of any more weapons at all, which meant a restock was out of the question. So why were they transporting so many weapons?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy steps against the concrete.

The driver was back.

You heard Jimin curse under his breath as he gently pushed you towards the crate’s door, “get it closed, I’ll distract him.”

Without another warning, he quickly made his way to the side of the truck, stopping the driver in his tracks with a conversation you couldn’t quite hear. But it didn’t matter as you struggled to get the heavy latch closed.

“Dude we have to get this done before HQ thinks there’s something up,” you heard the annoyed voice of the driver get louder as he got closer to the back of the truck.

Your arms tried to force the latch down so that it could lock again, but it wouldn’t budge. Only now were you starting to panic. When you turned to the side, the front of the driver’s shoe peeked from the corner of the crate. One step. Just one step more was all the driver had to take to see your form near an unlocked crate, simultaneously signing your death certificate in the process.

“Wait!” Jimin suddenly yelled.

The driver paused, looking back at him with confusion. You could still see his shoes around the corner, but with newfound adrenaline, you finally shoved the latch down, allowing it to lock in place.

Your shoes just barely touched the ground when the driver turned the corner. He first scanned the crate, then you, and then Jimin, who looked like he had gone through ten different heart attacks in the span of a minute.

“What the hell is going on here?” He asked, picking up on something odd.

But you only shrugged, “I was peeing in the bushes and I guess Jimin wanted to save your eyes.”

The driver immediately scoffed in disgust.

“I’ll see you guys in the morning,” he said, getting back into the driver’s seat and driving the crate into the gates.

Jimin was scowling at you, but it was nice not being the only one in a bad mood.

“There’s a town nearby, let’s find a hotel there.”

Turns out the mentioned town was actually experiencing some kind of holiday, which meant crowds upon crowds of people swarmed the place. The good news was that crowds meant a less likely chance that you and Jimin would ever be remembered. The bad news was that the place was so crowded you two could only book a single hotel room for yourselves.

Thankfully, the room itself was a suite, so the bedroom was separate from the common room, but that meant only one person could sleep on a bed. Considering the heart attack you gave Jimin earlier, you had insisted he take it, but Jimin, being the predictable man he was, wouldn’t have it.

That left you staring up at the ceiling from the stiffly made bed while Jimin laid on the sofa in the common room.

Despite the moonlight that shone into your dark room through the window curtains and the lulling sounds of the wall clock and AC, you couldn’t sleep. You’ve always had an issue with sleeping thanks to nightmares and likely some insomnia, but tonight seemed especially bad. Although you could usually sneak in a few minutes of sleep every hour or two, you could barely even manage to close your eyes now.

You blamed Jimin, particularly his face, for your lack of sleep. Every time you felt your eyes close, you could see him staring back at you with his kind brown eyes and black parted hair. You could even remember him when you first met him, eyes wild with untamed emotions and long black hair. He had grown up so much since you met him, into someone that was intelligent but mature. Gentle but ruthless. Quiet but authoritative. It was his duality that you liked about him, because despite his extremes, he was still balanced.

The mattress creaked under your weight as you shifted, eyes still focused on the ceiling. You couldn’t keep having thoughts like this if Jimin was going to start dating someone else. It would be unfair to him and his significant other, not to mention if Iseul found out about your feelings you have no doubt she’d have her father end you in a matter of seconds. You couldn’t tell whether it was funny or pathetic how the fear of death amounted to nothing in the face of hurting Jimin and his happiness.

The sound of the door creaking open had you jerking upwards and reaching for the gun under your pillow, but you paused when you noticed Jimin’s hand on the door knob.

At the sight of you awake, he seemed to sigh in relief.

“What is it?” You asked, as he made his way to the side of your bed.

“Come on,” he said while his hand gently wrapped around your arm and pulled you up, “let’s watch a movie.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t give you a chance to protest as he guided you to the common room. When you made it to the television, you noticed two bowls of popcorn already sitting on the coffee table and the red and black colours of Netflix exhibited on the screen.

Jimin let you down on the couch with your legs crossed before settling on the ground in front of it. You could feel his shoulder brush against your knee softly, and it took everything in you to keep the butterflies at bay.

“Pick something,” he said, handing you the remote. Your body was on autopilot now, mindlessly shifting through movies and shows you had watched a bunch of times already.

When you didn’t pick anything for a while, mostly because you were focusing more on pretending Jimin’s shoulder wasn’t pressing against your knee, he frowned.

“You’re mad at me.”

You felt yourself tense as he turned to look at you.

“I don’t like it when you're mad at me.”

Your gaze couldn’t meet his, opting to continue looking through the Netflix catalogue instead. But Jimin gently took the remote from your hands, forcing your gaze back to him.

Why are you mad at me?

You could practically hear his next words, but to your surprise, his question was different from the one you were expecting.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

The scoff left you before you could stop it. Of course you remembered the most traumatic day of your life.

“You mean the day you kidnapped me?” You deadpanned.

Your tone had been more humorous than accusatory, but Jimin looked like you had shoved a knife in his chest. He nodded weakly, and it suddenly dawned on you that maybe that day had been just as traumatic for him as it had been for you.

“That had been the day I had finally finished my first stage of training,” he started, looking straight ahead at the screen idly, “they used to have this mini ceremony when that happened, kind of like a kindergarten graduation. They gave me some cake. Told me that I would grow up to be useful to the Organisation. There was just one little thing I had to do.”

His shoulders tensed again, “I had to kidnap you from your home and bring you to the Organisation.”

“And despite not knowing what they would do to you, whether they would kill you or force you to join them, I agreed.”

His gaze fell to his hands, “your mother had never let you outside of the boundaries of your home a day in your life, like some real-life Rapunzel. I doubt she expected anyone to even know about your existence. It had been so easy to just break into your room one night, grab you and take you back to the Organisation.”

Jimin turned back to you, the moonlight illuminating the pain in his expression, “Y/N, you deserve someone better than me. Someone that doesn’t make selfish decisions. Someone that didn’t doom you to this life.”

Your eyes were wide at his words. Despite this entire confession, there was only one thing that you could say.

“You know?” You realised incredulously, “you know about my feelings?”

You didn’t need an answer, it was already written all over his face. He was begging you to forget him, to ‘find someone better.’ This whole time he’s known while you had naively believed that you had been hiding your emotions from him successfully. You couldn’t tell whether you were embarrassed by that or just purely in shock.

After the initial reaction wore off, and you could process what he was saying a little better, you furrowed your eyebrows, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be stuck in this organisation, forced to kill and stay obedient. You could’ve had a life, Y/N, but I took it away from you.”

You raised an eyebrow, “what life? Another decade trapped in the confines of my mother’s home? Knowing her, I doubt she would’ve let me out of there anytime soon. Besides, if you had refused, they would have just gotten someone else to do it. I’m glad I at least got someone like you, who's been with me and supported me every step of the way.”

But Jimin still shook his head, barely hearing a word you were saying. You never realised just how deeply he still thought about that whole ordeal. Aside from a few nightmares every now and then, you didn’t think about it much anymore. You had already suspected that Jimin had been forced into it, so you had never even held it against him either. But it was clear it was still a big deal for him.

You sighed.

“What about before the Organisation?”

Jimin let a hand run through his hair, reliving the memories of his childhood, “I’ve been an orphan for as long as I can remember. I jumped between a lot of foster homes and orphanages, but ultimately I ran away. Even the streets were better than most of those places. The Organisation managed to grab me when I was living there. Obviously since I didn’t have a family no one really cared, so I guess I made a perfect target.”

You tilted your head, “and you’re still going on and on about being selfish and dooming me? You were a child they had taken advantage of. If you had refused to kidnap me, you would have failed that task. And we all know what happens when you fail a task in the Organisation.”

The faces of numerous children you had grown up with came to mind, all of which had failed in some way or another, and all of which had never been seen again. The Organisation wasn’t just some teaching school that reprimanded you when you did wrong. It was unforgiving and bloodthirsty, and even the youngest of children knew that.

Jimin’s gaze remained forward as you let him swim in his own thoughts for a moment. You hoped he was at least starting to let go of the guilt that’s been seemingly eating away at him for years. It hurt to see him in so much pain.

“I should’ve stopped them.”

“Then you’d be dead.”

“I should’ve refused them.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“You deserve better than me, Y/N.”

“That’s my decision to make, don’t you think?”

He was silent once again, watching the different shows flash on the screen. You could still see his shoulders tensed and a pained expression on his face. Though he might have been slightly convinced, you could tell he still felt uneasy.

Slowly, you sank down to the floor next to him, earning you a confused look. But before he could refuse, you wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him closer to you in the process. Jimin paused for a moment, clearly surprised by the sudden action, but after a moment, you felt his arms hesitantly surround your form as well.

“You’re the only reason I’m still alive today, Jimin. I would have never been able to survive the Organisation’s training if you hadn’t spent day and night teaching me. You’ve always been by my side every step of the way, not just as a partner, but as a friend. So please don’t hurt yourself with guilt, you have nothing to be guilty for.”

You felt Jimin pull you closer as he rested his head on top of yours. It was almost desperate, like he was afraid you’d disappear at any moment.

“I like you too, you know that?” He said suddenly, “no matter how crazy you drive me sometimes, I’ll always care about you. I promise.”

You pushed yourself off him, scanning his face with wide eyes, “But what about Iseul? Didn’t you guys… talk? Don’t you like her?”

Jimin chuckled, “no, we did not talk and no, I do not like her.”

“Then why did you say you did?”

His expression became sad as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear delicately, “because as much as we both want this, it can’t happen.”

Your gaze dropped to the floor, letting silence engulf the moonlit living room. He wasn’t wrong. The Organisation had banned any romantic or sexual relationships between members a long time ago, and breaking those rules unsurprisingly resulted in the punishment of death. Jimin’s confession changed nothing.

But that didn’t make his confession meaningless. If it wasn’t for the Organisation, the two of you could have had a life together. You could have loved each other freely, under no one’s terms. For the first time in a long time you felt a familiar anger towards the Organisation. For stealing you away from your home, and forcing you to do their dirty work while staying obedient to their rules. You were nothing but their slave, and one step out of line would cost you your life without a second thought.

And the worst part was that there was nothing you could do about it. The organisation didn’t lie when they said they saw, knew and controlled everything. It was terrifying how deep their branches ran in the network of society. They lurked in the shadows of the law, swam in the dealings of businesses, controlling them quietly while people went about their lives cluelessly. They could probably watch the two of you right now if they wanted to, with no repercussions whatsoever.

You didn’t realise your hand had curled into a shaking fist until Jimin’s fingers brushed against it slowly. He let his fingers interlace with yours, calmly caressing the back of your palm with his thumb.

“It’s unfair,” you said, like a child throwing a tantrum, but Jimin only nodded his head.

“I mean, why us? There are so many people in this world living their own lives, completely unaware of the Organisation's mere existence. Yet, we had to be one of the few unfortunate people stuck under their cruelty. Where’s our justice?”

Jimin pulled you into his arms once again. He had no words of comfort for you, but then again, what comfort could you give two birds in a cage when you knew they had no chance of escape. There was no justice for people like you. The ones who worked in the shadows died in the shadows after all.

Your eyes widened as you suddenly felt his lips brush against your forehead lightly, causing your stomach to do backflips. Even though it was only for a brief moment, they felt so soft and loving on your skin that you knew you’d forever remember this moment for the rest of your life.

But his kiss didn’t just feel like an act of comfort, it also felt like a little act of rebellion. Like it didn’t matter that the Organisation had banned relationships because Jimin was choosing to kiss you anyway. It made you selfishly happy, despite the risk it posed for the two of you.

You jumped out of Jimin’s arms, happy to see a similar smile perched on his lips as you grabbed the remote.

“Funny but wholesome, with a side of angst,” you announced, “I know exactly what we need.”

You sifted through a few titles before clicking on one of the best movies of all time.

Jimin’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched the loading screen pop up, “is that a panda? Are we going to watch some kid’s show?”

But you simply covered his mouth with your hand as you grabbed one of the popcorn bowls and leaned your head against his shoulder.

“Do not attempt to put down Kung Fu Panda, it will only bring you dishonour and shame.”

Jimin shook his head with a chuckle as he pulled you closer into him. What you didn’t know was that he didn’t really care what you put on the large screen.

In the end, his focus would be on you every time.

The next morning, the two of you were back on the road speeding through the freeway. The landscape had changed from grassy lands and animal farms to vast fields of beige dirt and rocky mountains. As if reflecting the sorry state of the scenery, the weather was also dreary, with thick grey clouds and the smell of a thunderstorm brewing. It didn’t seem to be an immediate threat, but you made a note to keep an eye on it in case it became an obstacle to the transport.

While yesterday was filled with awkward silence, today’s silence was comfortable and calm. Images of last night flashed in your mind once in a while, of Jimin’s arms around you and his soft lips against your temple. Even though it made you as giddy as a school girl, you couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed about it.

But there was also this new feeling of grief weaving through the muscles of your heart, weighing your limbs down so that every movement took just a little more effort than before. It was the mourning of what could have been that brought on such a response. Of the life you and Jimin could have had if you both weren’t shackled to the Organisation in inescapable iron chains. You’d learned to live with the reality of your fate, but now that you knew the value of what they had truly taken away from you, you were finding it harder and harder to maintain such a mindset.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the driver, who announced your arrival at the final destination. The facility that finally came into view was almost identical to the facility you all had stopped at last night, except this one was at least three times larger. As the three vehicles approached the gate, you watched it automatically open, allowing the three of you to drive through effortlessly.

Once you made it inside the facility itself, the driver bid you both farewell, turning to drop off the cargo wherever he had been instructed to. There was no reason to meet up again considering your task was done, so it was safe to say you wouldn’t be seeing him again anytime soon.

That left you and Jimin standing idly in the centre of the warehouse, in awe at its size and the diversity in equipment surrounding the two of you. The walls were lined with dozens of giant computers, while the corners were filled with tables holding various blueprints and documents.

It was a little… messy compared to the Organisation’s normally strict and organised style. The computers were all mismatched and some of the documents had even fallen to the floor. They would never be so careless with their equipment.

“We should get going,” Jimin said, taking in the unusual setup as well. But following the rules had always come more naturally to him than you.

Then again, it was important that assassins be ready for the next mission immediately after completing one. And with the intimate moment that happened last night, you were thinking maybe you shouldn’t test the Organisation’s patience too much.

You sighed, trudging reluctantly behind Jimin as he started making his way towards the exit. Your mind was whirling with theories that attempted to explain what was going on here and why. The only explanation you had was that they were in a hurry responding to something, causing them to be hasty in their actions. Could this tie into what your target in the mansion had said? Was there really something coming? But then why would he tell the two of you to rebel and run away? Was he indicating that this would be the only opportunity to do it?

Jimin pulled the large door open, waiting for you to pass through, and you were about to do just that when your gaze suddenly caught a flash of light near the corner of the room, hidden behind one of the computers. Even though it was dull, it was still bright and enough to trigger your curiosity.

Jimin’s gaze followed your own until it landed on the light as well. His expression suddenly aged like 10 years on the spot.

“Y/N, no.”

But you were already walking through the concrete floor, determined to figure out the source of such an abnormality. As you got closer, another computer came into view, bigger and more importantly, already turned on. The dull light had been coming from its screen.

Jimin’s eyes widened at the discovery, “what are you going to do, break into their computer? We should leave, Y/N.”

“It’s not ‘breaking in’ if the computer is already on,” you reasoned, “besides, don’t you want to know what’s going on here?”

He just shook his head, “we could get in trouble for this.”

Before you could reply, the screen suddenly dulled, indicating that it would turn off in a few seconds. You rushed to it and moved around the mouse, causing the screen to brighten once again.

With the mouse underneath your fingers, you couldn’t help but snoop around the files a bit, opening them at random to look for anything interesting. Despite his earlier words, Jimin peeked from behind your shoulder, scanning the contents of the screen. You had to ignore the press of his body against your back.

After one particular click, you noticed a file that seemed a lot larger than the rest. When you opened it, you felt your eyebrows furrow.

Dozens of blueprints began to fill the screen. At first, you couldn’t recognise what they were illustrating, but then you started to notice a few familiar layouts here and there.

“They’re blueprints for the Organisation’s building,” you muttered.

You clicked another file that revealed all the timetables of the Organisation’s higher ups down to even the Leader. Next to every name that popped up were red flashing letters spelling ‘optimal timings.’ Curious, you clicked on one of them.

Your eyes widened when a full page suddenly popped up. Within it were all the timings in which the Leader was vulnerable in one way or another: when he dismissed his bodyguards, when he was in public, when he was alone, etc. And every timing was accompanied by the most efficient ways to kill him. You clicked through all the other red inscriptions, taking in the well-thought out and very achievable schemes that could very much have all the higher ups of the Organisation dead.

“They’re planning a hit on all the Organisation’s higher ups,” Jimin concluded, “but why would the Organisation want to harm itself like that.”

You thought back to the unusual way you and Jimin had been summoned for this mission.

‘The reason for the abnormality in your briefing today is due to the private nature of this mission.’

‘This mission is to stay a secret even within the Organisation.’

“Because it’s not the Organisation that’s planning all this,” you realised, “it’s Han Iseul, the Leader’s own daughter.”

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, letting the discovery fully process in your mind. It was the only explanation that made sense, at least to you. But why? The only thing you knew about the Leader’s daughter was that she was largely ignored by the Leader and the Organisation. She didn’t really have any responsibilities, but being the Leader’s daughter, she had an image of purity and power to uphold so that her father didn’t look weak. Maybe she was tired of being nothing but a puppet? You knew you could relate to that.

You turned towards Jimin, “is this what the man in the mansion had been talking about? What you knew about, but didn’t tell me.”

No.

He hadn’t said anything, but the answer was written all over his face. Jimin looked just as shocked and confused as you did, which had you even more confused than before. There were just too many things happening right now, too many mysteries popping up just as old ones were uncovered. You’re pretty sure your head was hurting from all the thinking you were putting it through.

But then you realised the weight of your discovery. The Leader’s daughter was staging a coup of some sort in the Organisation. Whether it would be successful or not, it was clearly going to be a big event, one the Organisation wouldn’t see coming. What if you and Jimin could take advantage of that? During all the chaos and battling, what if…

“What if we ran away?” You whispered, as if afraid the Organisation would hear you if you spoke any louder.

Jimin’s face snapped towards you in surprise. The mere thought of defying the Organisation had you shaking down to the bone, and you were sure he was no stranger to the fear you were experiencing right now. But this could be your ticket to freedom, an opportunity to finally be free from the clutches of the Organisation and their tyranny.

If not then, it would be never.

You watched Jimin’s mouth open only for it to close when a buzzing sound came from your earpiece.

“L/N Y/N, announce your presence,” a stern automated voice stated.

You internally groaned, knowing the Organisation already had a mission ready for you.

Your response was in harmony with Jimin’s as he also confirmed his presence, no doubt hearing the Organisation in his own earpiece as well. The two of you stood idly, waiting for the outline of your new assignment.

“Your next mission will consist of the following task,” the stern voice continued, completely devoid of emotion, “Within the next half an hour, beginning at the exact moment this call ends, you must eliminate your target and dispose of the body effectively. Your target is as assigned:”

There was a pause as the database searched for the target that had been assigned to you, before your heart dropped.

“Park Jimin.”

The familiar click of the line going dead had never sounded so deafening in your ears. Your limbs were still with tension as you tried to process words that felt like they were closing in on you, suffocating the last remnants of any breath left in your lungs.

‘Park Jimin’

You had to kill Park Jimin

The man that’s been there for you since day one, the reason you're standing here today. Your assignment was to end his life so that you could never gaze upon him again.

You slowly turned to Jimin, expecting his expression to mirror your own. But instead, his lips were pulled into a taut line while his gaze was aimed straight ahead of him. That was when you realised that Jimin’s expression wasn’t that of shock, it was one of resignation.

He knew. This is what he had been hiding, what he had known and kept from you this whole time. You wanted to ask him so many questions. How did he know? Why was this happening?

But you could only force out one sentence.

“I have to kill you.”

Jimin’s gaze lifted to your face, and you realised his eyes were drowning in unshed tears. When he spoke, it was hesitant and full of suffering.

“I have to kill you too.”

While your earpiece had called for Jimin’s assassination, his had called for yours. It was clear now that the Organisation wanted a battle. They wanted you and Jimin to fight to the death, and only the successor would be allowed to continue serving them till they too met their end.

You didn’t know why the Organisation had made the decision. Was it because of last night? Was it because of your mention of running away?

But it didn’t matter anymore, did it? The plan was over. If one of you weren’t dead in the next 28 minutes, both of you would be killed for your failure. You couldn’t wait for Iseul’s coup to run away anymore.

It was over.

You brought out your dagger, an unfamiliar tremor making it hard to hold it firmly. Jimin was the better fighter of the two of you, there was no doubt that it would be your body buried today. The thought of death terrified you, but somehow, dying by Jimin’s blade didn’t seem as scary. At least he would live, even if life under the Organisation was just another form of death itself. You’d gladly give your life if it meant Jimin could live on.

But a battle is what the Organisation wanted, and just like everything else, a battle is what the Organisation had to get.

You lunged, swinging your dagger straight towards Jimin’s neck. His hand was on his own dagger in a matter of a second and, just as you expected, he deflected your attack easily with the swing of his arm. You expected him to target your armed hand while you jumped back, but instead, he went for your torso, which you dodged easily.

The next 10 minutes were spent in a dance of dodges and attacks. Anytime your blade came close to even nicking his skin, you felt your heart beat in fear as you quickly changed the trajectory of your dagger. The sound of daggers clanging against each other reverberated around the warehouse, but the red of spilt blood never came.

Your eyebrows furrowed as another one of Jimin’s attacks failed to even scratch your skin. You didn’t understand what was taking him so long to end this. There wouldn’t be much time left to take care of the body within the Organisation's time limit, yet, his attacks were uncoordinated and weak while his dodges were reluctant.

You went for another attack with your dagger pointed straight towards his ribcage, expecting him to dodge it easily, but Jimin angled his dagger in the opposite direction. Instead of your dagger being deflected into the space to his right, your dagger deflected to his left. You watched in horror as your dagger plunged into the side of his arm before you could pull away.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

You jerked your blade back so that it couldn’t dig any deeper into his skin. His blood dripped from the silver tip to the dusty warehouse’s ground, creating a small pool of blood.

Jimin’s blood.

You’ve been exposed to blood and gore since you were a child and then all throughout your life, but the sight of his blood already had your stomach churning uneasily.

Aside from a small grimace, Jimin’s expression was unreadable. No anger. No resentment. Just a slight downturn of the corner of his lips, the one he always made when he was in pain.

Before you could yell at him, Jimin raised his blade and swung towards your shoulder. Sudden panic took over as you raised your dagger to dodge it so that his blade would deflect to the side of your shoulder. Instead, as Jimin’s dagger clanged against yours, he twisted his wrist, literally disarming himself with your blade.

His weapon clattered to the ground not too far away from your figure, yet he made no effort to retrieve it. Only then did you realise that he hadn’t been putting effort into this fight as a whole. None of his attacks were legitimate and his dodges were just barely keeping him alive.

Jimin was letting himself lose.

“No.”

You grabbed his blade from the ground and shoved it into his hand, but Jimin just let it drop to the floor. A sudden burst of anger flared in your chest as you watched his attempt at giving up.

“Why aren’t you fighting me?”

You grabbed the dagger once again and tried to make him take it, but the dagger clattered to the ground once again.

“Why aren’t you fighting me, Park Jimin?!” You yelled, shoving his shoulder. He didn’t even stumble from the action, instead he just stood silently, watching your anger slowly rise.

You went to shove him again, only for his hand to enclose around your wrist and pull you closer, causing you to crash into his chest. A warmth you couldn't quite explain spread all around you as his arms suddenly surrounded your form. If it was possible for a heart to be ripped into two, you were sure you could feel it happening in your chest. Jimin’s warmth was just as comforting as it was heartbreaking, and soon you felt your anger morph into sobs. Your tears started to stain his uniform, but Jimin made no attempt to push you away.

“We both know who the winner of this fight is, so just get it over with,” you whispered against his chest, praying for it to be quick. But Jimin shook his head.

“Last time I checked, I’m the one that’s disarmed and injured,” he whispered back. You immediately dropped your weapon and let your hand stroke his injured arm. The cut wasn’t deep enough to be anything major, and yet it felt like your own arm was ripping apart at the sight of it.

“Please,” you begged in desperation, “there isn’t much time left.”

“You’re right.”

Jimin grabbed the abandoned dagger from the ground and placed it in your hand, enclosing his own fingers around yours so that the dagger couldn’t clatter to the floor. You watched in confusion as he sank to his knees in front of you and then sobbed as he brought the dagger closer to him until it was right next to his neck. You tried to pull away, but his firm grip on your hand wouldn’t let you.

“I knew that they would give us these orders one day,” he began while letting his other hand squeeze your unoccupied palm gently, “Before I had to kidnap you, I wasn’t that great at following the rules, and because of that I ended up overhearing an unspoken tradition that went on in the Organisation. Usually, they made partners fight to the death after years of service so that only the best stayed in the Organisation.”

“After you became my partner I realised that I didn’t want to participate in such a tradition. So after a little snooping around, I managed to hear about one or two instances where each partner was so good that the Organisation didn’t want to lose even one of them, so they had decided not to make them kill each other. I thought I could train us to be that good, so that we wouldn’t have to go through this, but I guess I messed up somewhere.”

You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. That, in the end, all the blame fell on the Organisation. That you were thankful for him and everything he’s done for you. But the words stuck in your throat as you continued to sob.

Jimin brought the dagger closer to his neck, “I’m sorry baby, you’ll need to continue without me from now on.”

Tears continued to stream down your cheeks, “no, no, please, don’t make me do this.”

“I know it’s going to be hard, but I promise you’ll overcome it quickly,” he continued with damp eyes and a pained smile, “you just have to push this dagger forward and it’ll all be over.”

You shook your head repeatedly, unable to speak because of your closed throat. What he was asking was impossible. You could never even think of doing it.

“It’s okay,” Jimin stopped squeezing your palm so that he could hold your hand instead, grip still strong in his other as he ensured your hand was clasped around the dagger, “you can do it. Just one push and it’s all over, I promise.”

You knew why he was so adamant about you being the one to kill him.

‘You must eliminate your target and dispose of the body effectively.’

To successfully accomplish the task, or in other words end up not getting killed by the Organisation, one of you had to kill the other. Any other form of death wouldn’t be accepted.

But if Jimin expected you to actually be able to go through with this, he was mistaken. You don’t think your hand could move in such a way even if you tried to command it. Jimin had been by your side for years. He’s the only one that’s genuinely ever cared for you, even taking your life before the Organisation into account. If you were being honest with yourself, you loved him. And although you would do anything for him, you couldn’t do this. No matter how much he wanted you to do it.

Jimin must have taken your silence for acceptance because you felt his grip slowly loosen so that you could push the dagger forward. But the second he did, you pulled the dagger out of his grasp and threw it far away from you. It felt like a hot iron had been removed from your hand.

You dropped to your knees in front of him, mimicking his position as a look of surprise took over his expression.

You knew you could never willingly kill Jimin and you knew Jimin would never willingly kill you. And ironically, that would just result in the Organisation killing you both. If the two of you were technically already dead…

Why not try something crazy?

Jimin cupped your face gently, letting his thumbs brush the tears from your cheeks. You spoke up before he could change your mind.

“What if we ran away?”

The question was an echo from the conversation you had earlier, only this time the chance of success was much lower. In fact, there was probably no chance at all and even Jimin knew it.

“There’s no distraction, Y/N,” he said, shaking his head, “the Organisation is focused on us now. There’s no way we can get away with it.”

“But what if we can,” you countered, “think about it. The Organisation abducted us all when we were children, in other words, young and gullible. They’ve drilled the idea into our minds that they cannot be defeated and are all-powerful ever since then so that none of us would ever dare to go against them even when we got older. But what if that’s not how it really is? What if… they're not as powerful as they say they are?”

You knew that wasn’t entirely true. The Organisation was powerful, and you’ve seen the proof of that with your own eyes. But the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. They’ve always used fear as a weapon for obedience, especially when you were children. It’s why you felt yourself shake at the mere thought of rebelling and why the thought has never even crossed your mind. Without fear, how much power did they really have?

Jimin’s gaze was focused on you as he mulled over your words.

“We’re not going to kill each other, we both know neither of us can do it. So why not just take a chance? We’re dead anyway. Maybe this way we could actually have a life together.”

The chances of that were very low, and you knew Jimin knew that as well. But you were surprised to eventually see a slight nod in his head.

“We have 5 minutes left,” he announced, referring to the amount of time left before the Organisation would come and finish the task that they had called for.

He stood, pulling you along with him, but his hand didn’t leave yours even when you were standing upright beside him.

“We’ll take our bikes and start heading North. I think I have an idea of where we should go,” he picked up both the daggers and handed you yours, “we’ll have to cut out our trackers.”

You nodded, already expecting as much.

Jimin took your arm in his hands while you took his. The trackers were cut out and thrown to the floor in a matter of seconds, both of you hissing a bit at the slight sting of your cuts. But they weren’t deep, and that’s all that mattered.

After ditching your earpieces as well, the two of you hastily made your way out of the warehouse to find a storm thrashing at the rocky terrain. The initially dry and dusty landscape was now damp due to the merciless rain and the roads seemed dangerously slippery. Thankfully, the weather would make it harder for the Organisation to track your motorcycle trails.

This time, the two of you wordlessly hopped onto a single motorcycle rather than separate ones. Aside from the rain, one motorcycle would be a lot harder to track than two. You let Jimin drive, opting instead to wrap your arms around him from behind as he sped through the road at the cycle’s maximum speed. Rather than feel fazed by the speed, you could only feel comfort in Jimin’s warmth.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself back there,” Jimin chuckled, which made you raise an eyebrow.

You chuckled along with him, “since when were you so brazen?”

“Since the Organisation isn’t holding me back now.”

It made you feel better that you weren’t the only one harbouring some intense feelings all these years. Even though they didn’t get very intense until the last few years, it still sucked sometimes thinking that they were unrequited. But knowing that Jimin felt the same kind of made those times worth it, in a weird unexplainable way.

Eventually, a tree here and there started to pop up until they morphed into a thick forest. At one point, you were sure you saw some of the Organisation issued motorcycles through the thicket of the forest, clearly speeding through another road in the opposite direction as the two of you.

“We’re going back,” you realised, “we’re going back to the hotel.”

You could just barely make out the nod of Jimin’s head. The sun had fully set now, and combined with the thunderstorm it was practically impossible to see in front of you.

It made sense to go back. The Organisation wouldn’t expect you two to be anywhere near it or near any recent mission areas considering they were too predictable. They would likely focus on the areas that were farther away from them, thinking that’s where you would be hiding.

Thankfully your destination didn’t take too long to show up after the forest thickened. Soon enough, you were checking into the same hotel and even the same room you stayed in the other night.

Immediately, you crashed back first onto the couch, groaning at the feeling of finally relaxing your muscles. Your day had definitely been more emotionally exhausting than physically by a long shot, which was probably why you felt so drained. Jimin gently sat next to you, adjusting your head so that it was resting comfortably in his lap.

“We should be able to stay here and get some rest for a few hours before they find us,” Jimin said, letting his hand run through your hair delicately.

“Then I guess that gives us enough time to come up with a plan,” you said, already racking your brain for the possibilities. You sat up and crossed your legs on the couch while facing Jimin.

“What do you think?”

Jimin thought for a moment before speaking, “we can lay low for a while, just until they stop looking for us. Then when we get an opening, we move to the countryside.”

You shook your head.

“They’ll find us eventually, whether we live in the city or countryside. What if we completely change our identities? You know, plastic surgery, new passports– all that? Then we can even blend into a city.”

But Jimin shook his head as well, “they’d still find us. Changing identities always leaves a trail.”

There was a beat of silence as the realisation suddenly hit you.

“Then… we’ll have to leave the country.”

The thought of leaving the country made your heart feel heavy. This was where you were born, where you were raised and became the person you were. Sure, your upbringing was pretty crappy, but nostalgia was nostalgia, wasn’t it?

Slowly, Jimin nodded his head, no doubt going over all the possible options in this situation. You’d still have to get new identities and live in the countryside even in the new country, but it was your best bet.

“I know for sure the Organisation doesn’t have any ties in Canada,” Jimin thought out loud, absentmindedly brushing his hand against your thigh, “the country itself is huge and a lot of it hasn’t been urbanised just yet. It would be the perfect place to run away to.”

You didn’t know much about the Organisation’s reach internationally, but it didn’t surprise you that they had some control even outside the country. If Canada really was one of the countries that was outside their reach, you could easily hide there.

There was silence after that. The two of you had been partners for so long that you already knew the rest of the plan without even having to speak it. You’d spend a few hours in the hotel room and rest until around midnight, where you’d get up and make your way to the airport. Hopefully, the Organisation wouldn’t catch up to you while you boarded and left the country for good.

There were so many things that could go wrong. So many ways the Organisation could get to you and yet, for once you didn’t feel scared. You and Jimin were as good as dead anyway, but now there was hope for a new life. You’ve always thought of hope as a dangerous thing, but now, it’s never made you happier.

Your hand found Jimin’s, letting yourself intertwine your fingers with his before shifting closer to him. Jimin smiled as he wrapped his arms around you the same way he had done last night.

Being part of the Organisation since you were 9 had ensured you’ve never had any kind of romantic relationship with anyone before, to the point that just sitting here in Jimin’s arms had your heart beating out of your chest. This was all such unfamiliar territory for you. The only thing that could guide you were all the movies you’ve watched, but you were old enough to know movies weren’t a very accurate representation of real life.

“The first time I realised that I may have feelings for you was during the Lockley mission,” Jimin said suddenly, immediately piquing your interest. You swung your legs over his and made a little show of getting comfy to encourage him to continue.

That made Jimin chuckle.

“It had been right when Lockley had turned the tables on us and pulled a gun on you while he had taken you hostage. I remember feeling so panicked, not the kind of panic you feel when a friend is in danger, but so much worse than that. It felt like his gun was resting on my head and, for the first time in a long time, my mind went blank with fear.”

Both your hands wrapped around his as you noticed a slight tremor in them.

You remember that mission. You and Jimin didn’t anticipate that Lockley, your target, had been expecting the two of you, and because of that he had managed to grab you and put a gun to your head before any of you knew what was happening. He had created a hostage situation so that he could buy himself enough time to get out of there before you and Jimin could kill him like the Organisation had ordered. Thankfully, Jimin had managed to save you, but not before Lockley’s gun went off and instead hit you below the ribs.

Jimin continued as his other hand rested on your leg, “then when you had gotten shot, it was like my heart stopped beating. I couldn’t even let you go when the surgeons had arrived because the thought of losing you terrified me. That’s when I knew that how I felt about you was not as simple as I thought it was.”

“Since the Lockley’s mission…” you thought, “that was almost 5 years ago.”

He’s liked you for the last 5 years and you hadn’t even noticed, probably too busy trying to hide your own feelings from him.

“Maybe it’s my fault we’re in this situation,” he said uncharacteristically, “I didn’t hide my feelings well enough last night and now our lives are on the line.”

Jimin has never been one to dwell on ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes,’ he always made sure that what he spoke was useful and relevant. Otherwise he was silent. It was you that often spoke your mind, broke the rules, and gave him heart attacks. He’s done everything to keep you safe, and now here he was blaming himself for what you were starting to realise was probably your fault.

“If anything, I’m probably the reason we’re in this situation,” you thought out loud, “let’s face it Jimin, I’m not exactly good enough for them to make an exception in a tradition that has been upheld for years. They were going to order us to kill each other, regardless of what happened last night.”

You just wish Jimin didn’t have to suffer for your shortcomings. He could have lived if he had killed you when the Organisation had ordered it, probably would have been sleeping in his bed back at the base right now. It was only because of you that he’d dropped everything, sacrificed his life, just to be here with you.

As if reading your thoughts, Jimin immediately brought up his hand to cup your cheek before taking a breath, “no, don’t ever blame yourself for something that isn’t your fault.”

“But-”

“Even though the situation isn’t exactly ideal, I don’t regret trying to protect you. Because no matter how bad everything is right now, nothing makes me happier than being able to hold you like this after years of believing I’ll never get the chance.”

His hand felt warm against your cheek as you looked at him, his own gaze focused on your eyes. You felt the same; even though you’ve been doing everything the Organisation had ordered to keep your life, you’ve never felt more alive until today. Jimin’s touches and words, no matter how small, were electrifying and you found yourself wondering how you’ve been living without them for so many years.

You noticed his gaze flicker down to your lips for a moment before moving back up to your eyes. The action made you heat, and probably would have been enough to make you look away in embarrassment if it wasn’t for your own gaze that was now focused on his plump lips.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?” You said absentmindedly, trying to force your gaze back up to his eyes.

“Can I kiss you, baby?”

Baby

Your stomach exploded with butterflies at the nickname as your cheeks became hot. The prospect of kissing Jimin, combined with that nickname, suddenly had you panicking to the point that you couldn’t help but blurt out the first thing that came to mind.

“You called me that before.”

Jimin’s head tilted in confusion for a moment, put off by the sudden comment. It gave you time to try, and fail, at lowering your raging heart and mind.

“Back at the warehouse,” you explained, trying to focus on your words rather than how close his face was to yours and how foggy it was making your brain, “when you were trying to get me to kill you, you called me baby.”

Jimin studied you for a moment, gaze dropping to your slightly shaky hands still enveloping his and then back to your face, before suddenly shifting your positions. In a matter of seconds, you were straddling his lap while both his hands gently cupped your face. The position was different, it made you feel more in control of whatever was happening.

You could feel the warmth from Jimin’s chest seep into your own at the new proximity. For as long as you could remember he’s been your warmth and comfort, but experiencing this side of him gave the two words a completely new definition. You wanted to experience more, go as far as humanly possible- but with him, only with him.

“You’re dodging the question, Y/N,” he whispered, as if not to break the silence.

Your faces were so close to each other that you could feel your breaths mingling. The closeness felt oddly calming, helping you focus a little better. But you didn’t need much of your brain right now anyway. You knew what you wanted. There was no more need for thinking anymore.

“Can I–”

Before Jimin could finish, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him towards you, finally connecting your lips with his.

A comfortable warmth burst inside your chest as Jimin immediately sunk into the kiss, letting you feel his soft and plump mouth in the process. You couldn’t describe the feelings you were experiencing. Everytime his lips glided over yours, your chest tightened with want for more. Your hands found themselves in Jimin’s hair, tugging every once in a while and subsequently earning you a pleased groan.

One of his hands dropped to your waist, pulling you closer as his tongue moved your lips apart to let himself into your mouth. It was no question that he was the one dominating this kiss right now, but you didn’t mind at all. You were just trying not to self combust under all the new emotions you were experiencing for the first time.

Jimin’s hand, which was now resting on your waist, continued to pull you flush against his chest. The movement caused him to groan, and he suddenly pulled you away from him.

“How far do you want to go tonight?” He said through laboured breaths.

It took you a second to notice the obvious want in his eyes and then another to process the fact that he had asked a question.

“As far as we can,” you said, “I want every part of you, Jimin.”

Jimin smiled before he connected with your lips once again. This time, one of your hands raised to brush your fingers through his hair. He moaned, causing his lips to disconnect with yours. Instead they found a spot near your neck, allowing him to send open mouthed kisses all over your throat.

You felt yourself being gently pushed until the soft couch connected with your back. Jimin hovered over you, continuing to mark your neck and collarbone with his lips. His torso, which was now slotted between your legs, pushed you deeper against the couch, causing you to moan. The movement had your heart rate racing once again.

“Wait,” you said suddenly.

Jimin immediately paused, putting some space between the two of you, but the arms wrapped around his neck kept him in place.

“I’ve never done this before.”

Sexual relationships were also strictly banned in the Organisation. And since you started at 9, it was no surprise that you were still a virgin at your age. You wouldn’t be surprised if Jimin was still one as well.

It wasn’t that you were scared of having sex with Jimin, but it was the idea of the unknown that scared you more. You didn’t entirely know how to pleasure him, or even yourself. Knowing that you’ll never have sex, you never really bothered to research the specifics, but now you were really regretting that decision. You felt unprepared.

Noticing the uncertainty on your face, Jimin’s expression softened, “do you want to stop?”

“No,” you answered immediately, “I just… I don’t…”

You struggled to find the words, but Jimin being Jimin didn’t need much explanation. He intertwined his fingers with yours before placing a kiss over the scar you had gotten from the Lockley incident.

“I haven’t either,” he admitted, “but don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

That made you smile. Of course he will. Park Jimin had been by your side for as long as you could remember, been the only person in this world that had kept you safe and as happy as possible given the situation. You trusted him, more than you trusted even yourself.

“I know,” you said, because you wanted him to know it. You wanted him to know that you trusted him and knew how much he cared about you. You wanted him to know how much you cared about him too, and how much you wanted him in your life, even if it probably wasn’t going to be a very long one, “I love you.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said the big ‘I love you’ right before having sex, you don’t recall any romantic movie scenes where that had happened. Maybe it was shallow or too casual.

But the big smile that suddenly overtook Jimin’s face made you happy that you did. He gave you a few light kisses on your lips before he whispered it back against your ear.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

Hearing him say it back affected you a lot more than you had thought it would. Despite dreaming about a moment like this for years, nothing could come close to the real feeling of Park Jimin telling you he loved you right after telling him the same. You imagine this is what being high feels like, mind hazy on satisfaction.

You let Jimin kiss you again, this one much more passionate than the last. When he pulled away from you, his expression showed nothing but care and love.

“Let me show you how much I love you baby.”

This time you didn’t overthink.

This time you gave yourself to him completely, all night.

It was still dark when Jimin woke you up, pointing out a few shady looking people from your window. It didn’t take long for you to understand that your time at the hotel was up.

You both needed to get moving.

After making sure you weren’t being followed, you and Jimin hopped onto your motorcycle and continued speeding down the secluded highway. You’d only managed to get a few hours of sleep before Jimin had woken you up, meaning the sun was probably going to rise in an hour or two. It wouldn’t do much to change the gloomy atmosphere considering it was still raining, but you’ve never been in a better mood until today.

Jimin also seemed to be in a good mood, pointing out cool scenery and animals through the dark as you travelled through vast fields of farmland. It didn’t even feel like you both were trying to run away from inevitable death. It just felt like any other day, following through on one of your missions.

About an hour or two later, Jimin was pulling into the airport, bringing the motorcycle to a stop right in front of the passenger pick-up and drop-off area.

“So what’s our point of entrance?” You thought out loud while scanning your surroundings.

You obviously couldn’t just waltz through security with your weapons and no passport and expect not to be thrown into jail in record time. There needed to be another way.

Jimin pointed his head to the right, guiding you to follow his line of sight. At the far end, you could see the air stewards and pilots laughing and talking with each other as they walked into the airport with their small hand carries.

“It would definitely get us past security,” you agreed, picking up on what he was implying.

The two of you abandoned the motorcycle and made your way into the airport. You needed to find the group of air stewards and pilots that were flying to Canada so you could get past security. After that, it should be easy to get onto the plane.

You and Jimin scanned the board of flights, praying there was a flight to Canada happening soon. To your relief, the earliest flight was departing in about half an hour. Not a lot of time, but you could definitely make it work.

Before you could start looking for a group of stewards attending that flight, a man caught your eye. He was just standing there, looking around the place as if he were some kind of security guard. But he wasn’t dressed as such, rather he was wearing a black hoodie and jeans–

Your eyes furrowed as you noticed his shoes. They were standard issue shoes from the Organisation, no doubt about it. And with how vigilant the man was being, you were betting that he had been put on high alert, likely searching for the two of you.

“Nine o’clock, in the black hoodie,” you whispered to Jimin, who didn’t look right away.

His eyes flickered to the man and then back to you, “the group of stewards next to the security entrance match our description.”

You nodded keeping a close eye on the man, who was still oblivious to the two of you thanks to the crowd surrounding you both.

“We meet up in the family bathroom after clearing security,” you said, causing Jimin to nod.

Without any other words the two of you split up, Jimin off to seize his steward while you were off to seize yours. It was normal for you to follow unsaid commands like that, you could read each other so easily after all. What wasn’t normal was the small squeeze Jimin gave your hand before you split, one that had you battling a smile and heated cheeks.

It didn’t take you long to find the group Jimin had hinted at, but it did take a while to find a stewardess similar to your height and appearance. The clock in the back of your mind was counting down the time left until the plane’s departure. You had to get on that plane in time, or you could kiss any chance of freedom goodbye.

27:32 minutes remaining.

You walked up to the steward, explaining the first problem you could think of off the top of your head. It was easy getting her to come with you into the bathroom, and then even easier to knock her out in one of the stalls without a sound. The Organisation had taught you how to manipulate to the point that it was practically second nature to you.

You quickly put on her uniform while checking for her passport and boarding ticket. Unfortunately you were going to have to leave behind your gun and daggers, which made you feel more naked than ever. But you didn’t have much other choice at this point.

With your head held high, you walked out of the bathroom in the stewardess uniform and hand carry dragging against the floor. You didn’t see Jimin anywhere yet, but you had to get past security and into the bathroom first before you could start worrying about him.

You greeted the security guard with a smile as you handed him your passport and boarding ticket. He took your baggage and placed it on a conveyor belt while motioning for you to go through the metal detector. The detector stayed silent as you walked through confidently.

It was the bag that caused a sound to erupt from the machine.

The security guard’s eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the screen that was showing the scan of your luggage. Unfortunately the screen was turned the other way so you couldn’t see what he was picking up on.

“Are you sure you’ve declared everything ma’am?” He asked sternly, pulling the carry on from out of the machine and unzipping it.

Crap… was the stewardess you picked a drug smuggler? She didn’t seem like one to you, but if he’s picking up on drugs then that’ll be an issue. How stupid could she be to openly smuggle drugs in her luggage? She was a stewardess, didn’t she know security scanned baggage?

You readied yourself to get out of the situation, but then paused as he flipped the luggage open.

Oh god…

Staring back at you and the security guard was a neon pink adult toy sitting right at the top of a bunch of neatly folded clothes.

The security guard stuttered as he quickly zipped the carry on shut while you tried your hardest not to laugh. He practically threw the hand carry back at you, looking anywhere but your face.

“Enjoy your flight ma’am,” he choked out. His eyes suddenly widened, as if realising the double meaning behind that sentence before scrambling to redeem himself, “that’s not– I-I mean-”

You couldn’t help the reply that came out of your mouth, “Thank you, I will indeed enjoy my flight.”

You laughed internally as you watched the security guard’s face turn bright red, before walking off towards the bathroom.

Poor guy. That was hilarious, though.

But your smile was quick to vanish when you noticed the guy in a black hoodie from earlier standing in the same line you had been just a moment before. This time, his gaze was fixed solely on you.

They found you.

Your hands were quick to find the lock of the family bathroom, twisting it quickly before you were scanning the small space. Jimin was already there, sitting atop the closed toilet patiently while wearing a men’s steward uniform. At your arrival he stood immediately.

You were surprised when he greeted you with a firm kiss to your lips.

Man could you get used to this.

“Nice dildo,” Jimin snickered, earning him a roll of your eyes.

“I guess the plane ride can get boring for some.”

The two of you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. The fact that it was caught on the machine meant that it was some kind of automated toy too, which for some reason made it funnier.

When your laughs died out, you were the first to break the mood, “the man we saw earlier spotted me. He’s in line for security right now.”

“Okay, then we need to be quick,” Jimin nodded, demeanor becoming serious,“we obviously won’t be able to get on the plane as stewards. Our only point of entrance is the cargo compartment that they have for pets since it’s the only one on an airplane that’s pressurised and ventilated.”

“We can try getting there through the vents,” you suggested.

In the past, the two of you participated in a mission that required you to memorise the layout of the airport’s vents, but that was a long time ago. Your memory of the vents couldn’t be as accurate now, not to mention the airport was always going through construction, so you didn’t even know if the vents would still be the same as before.

Jimin explained that much to you again.

“There should be a back entrance for the workers that load the baggage into the plane,” he said, “we’ll have to find it and–”

A sudden bang from outside the bathroom door caused you both to flinch. Your eyes immediately went to the door, while your hand instinctively grabbed for your dagger before realising it wasn’t there anymore.

“This is airport security. Open the door or we’ll be forced to use violence,” a man’s voice yelled.

It was safe to say that was not airport security, and instead the Organisation forcing you out of the bathroom. In fact, you’d bet some heavy money on that guy in the black hoodie from earlier being the one standing outside the door right now.

“Well, vents it is,” you announced, rummaging through the stewardess’s hand carry until you managed to find a metal hair curler. You gave it to Jimin, who grabbed it quickly and began breaking the vent cover.

“You have 20 seconds before we open this door,” he said, but you could already see the door knob wiggling. They were no doubt placing an explosive and would set it off the moment they were done.

In a matter of seconds, Jimin had managed to break off the vent cover with the hair curler and hoist you into the vent. The sound of the door erupting reverberated around the room just as Jimin managed to hoist himself up. Splinters from the door flew everywhere, landing near even you, who was already well within the metal labyrinth. You grabbed Jimin’s arm and helped him up before making your way deeper into the vents.

Your mind struggled to remember the layout of the airport’s vents. Every turn you took was more of a guess than a certainty, but Jimin didn’t correct you when you made a decision so your choices couldn’t have been that bad.

The sounds of the Organisation’s men following you through the vents could be heard a few metres back. You needed to hurry if you wanted to get away from them and if you wanted to make it on time to the airplane.

10:01 minutes remaining.

You paused when the vents split into two opposite directions, completely unsure of which direction led to where. You could swear that this split wasn’t even in the outline you studied years ago.

“You wouldn’t happen to know the directions, would you?” You asked Jimin, while sounds of the Organisation’s men got closer and closer.

Jimin paused, no doubt crouched uncomfortably as he waited behind you. You hated how if the men caught up to you, it would be Jimin that would have to face them first. You could even bet that’s why Jimin stayed behind you in the first place. That protective bastard.

“I don’t think this was part of the outline,” he said after racking his brain for the answer.

Your focus shifted behind you to look at Jimin, but instead you noticed the Organisation’s men already inching a few metres away towards you two. They’d catch up to you guys in no time.

You shifted your focus back to the situation in front of you. It was really a 50/50 chance at this point, so you quickly did eenie meenie miny moe in your head and prayed the direction you chose wouldn’t land you right into the hands of the Organisation. Wordlessly, Jimin followed behind.

A few more minutes of uncomfortable crawling led you to a dip in the vent, almost like a slide. You slid down it without hesitation, completely aware that the Organisation’s men were now dangerously close to Jimin.

What you didn’t expect, was for the vent to end, causing you to slam into the vent cover. You awkwardly brough your feet in front of you, and slammed them against it. It clattered to the seemingly concrete ground, allowing you to finally squeeze out of the cramped vent.

05:57 minutes remaining.

The outside’s breeze flowed through your hair as you tried to make out the layout in front of you through the darkness of dawn, a crack of the sun that was now visible helping a bit. A few airplanes stood side by side in a line, while others were already speeding down the runway into the air.

You heard Jimin jump out of the vent, but before you could turn towards him, you felt him pull you down to the ground. Not a second later, three bullets came flying towards where you had been standing moments ago.

The both of you turned around to see the Organisation’s men jumping out of the vents, eyes trained on you. You were already mentally cursing at the guns in their hands.

“Let’s go,” you said, grabbing Jimin’s arm and dragging him behind you.

You were lucky that it was dark, which messed up the aim of a lot of the shots being sent towards you both. What you needed was to find the airplane leaving in less than 5 minutes. But the more you scanned the area, the more you were losing hope.

“There,” Jimin said suddenly, pointing towards your left.

The plane was hidden behind one of the watchtowers. It seemed that all the passengers had boarded, and the only thing it was waiting for was the loading of the luggage. You could see the workers still throwing large cargo into the cargo compartment quickly. You just needed to reach that point, then getting past the workers would take no time.

You and Jimin continued to run towards it. Almost there, almost there…

“Wait,” you stopped suddenly, realising something. Jimin’s brows furrowed as he paused next to you.

“Wha-”

“The men,” you said, looking behind you. They weren’t shooting anymore, instead they were just standing there watching the two of you, “why are they just standing there?”

You were well within range of their weapons. Why wouldn’t they take a shot when they had the cha–

“Watch out!” Jimin suddenly yelled.

You just barely managed to dodge the giant truck that had been hurtling towards you at full speed. With its headlights off, you didn’t even notice it had been coming towards you until it would have been too late.

The truck screeched to a stop, allowing several more men and women from the Organisation to jump out and surround you. You were severely outnumbered, with no weapons and now less than 3 minutes to get on a plane that stood at least 120 metres away from you.

“We just need to get to the plane,” Jimin said, analysing the 17 armed individuals currently surrounding you both, “once we’re in the plane, they can’t get us. We’ll need to make a run for it.”

02:11 minutes remaining.

Jimin was right, there was no time to take your chances with the individuals surrounding you. You could already see the workers throwing in the last of the baggage and getting ready to close the cargo entrance. If you didn’t make it, it was over.

You quickly lunged at one of the men, clearly taking him off guard. You grabbed his gun and managed to slam its butt into his face, causing him to crumple to the floor. One look at the gun in Jimin’s hand had you both sprinting towards the airplane.

01:37 minutes remaining.

Every few seconds, you had to turn back and send a few bullets flying towards the group, which was now down to 15. It gave you and Jimin a chance to run without being shot at.

01:07 minutes remaining.

A worker threw the last bag into the cargo hold and motioned for another to begin closing the compartment. You and Jimin were only a few metres away, sprinting with as much energy as you could. You’d be able to make it within a minute–

A bullet suddenly ripped into your calf, causing you to stumble and almost faceplant right into the concrete. Pain erupted in your leg as you tried to get back onto your feet.

“Y/N!” Jimin shouted, crouching down next to you immediately.

He brought up his gun and sent a bunch of bullets towards the group, three of which actually hit their target. The Organisation’s members immediately fell backwards, waiting for a safe moment to shoot.

00:34 minutes remaining.

You could see the compartment closing as the workers made their way back into the baggage carts and began driving away. 30 seconds… You only had 30 seconds to make it before your opening would close forever.

“Y/N, I know it hurts,” Jimin said, and you could pick up on the hint of desperation in his voice, “but we need to run for it. Just 20 seconds, okay? You just need to hold out for 20 seconds.”

You nodded, clenching your teeth as Jimin helped you up while sending more shots towards the Organisation’s people.

10 seconds remaining.

“Okay, now!” He signalled.

The two of you continued to sprint towards the now closing airplane compartment, Jimin’s arm half dragging you in the process. Your leg wasn’t completely useless considering you were just barely able to match his speed, but the pain almost had you blacking out midrun.

7 seconds remaining.

Jimin’s grip on your arm tightened as he sped up.

“Almost there,” he assured, “almost there.”

5 seconds remaining.

You wanted to cry in relief when you finally came to a stop in front of the compartment door. The large door was closing upwards and was already halfway closed. That caused Jimin to hurriedly lift you up so that you could slip into the little opening between the closing door and the side of the plane.

The only issue was that by the time you were inside, the opening was much too small for Jimin to slip through.

3 seconds remaining.

“Jimin!”

You couldn’t see him anymore, the sides of the door had closed too much. How was he going to get in?

2 seconds remaining.

No, no, no.

“Jimin!” You shouted again, like it was going to do anything.

1 second remaining.

A grunt caused your gaze to shift upwards, and you noticed Jimin slipping through the small opening between the top of the door and the plane’s side. For a terrifying moment, you thought the closing door was going to crush him, but at the last second he managed to slip through without losing his head.

The second his feet connected with the floor, you threw your arms around him, almost sobbing at the fact that he was alive and you weren’t going to have to travel to Canada without him.

Jimin chuckled at your reaction, but with how tight his hold was, you were sure he wasn’t as nonchalant as he was making himself out to be.

“Come on,” he said softly, refusing to let you go, “let’s go to the ventilated compartment before the plane takes off.”

You nodded as he helped your limping form towards the other side of the compartment. With the initial shock wearing off, your eyes widened at the realisation.

“We did it…” You said incredulously.

Jimin gave you a smile as he got the door open and ushered you inside before making sure it was properly locked.

“Holy crap, we actually did it, Jimin. We bested the Organisation.”

The realisation didn’t feel real, like at any moment you’d wake up back in the hotel room and realise this was all a dream. The Organisation that you’ve feared ever since you knew about its existence would now be a distant memory. You and Jimin could finally live your lives based on your own terms, without the fear of death constantly looming over your heads. It was almost daunting thinking about the amount of freedom you now had.

Jimin sat you down next to one of the cages, which were largely empty besides one sleeping dog nestled in the corner. Moving your pant aside, he began examining your bullet wound.

“I’ve been through worse, I’ll be fine,” you assured, but he continued anyway.

Gently, he unravelled the mini scarf wrapped around your neck as part of the stewardess uniform and began wrapping it around your wounded calf. You flinched in pain, causing him to stroke your thigh in comfort.

“What do you want to do now?” He asked, continuing to wrap your wound gently while you clenched your teeth.

“What do you mean?”

He raised an eyebrow in amusement, “we’re about to go to Canada and live the rest of our lives there. Surely you have some plans.”

You rolled your eyes, “I didn’t even think we’d make it this far, much less have time to plan out what we’ll do in Canada.”

The plane suddenly lurched, indicating the beginning of its take off. Jimin finished tying the scarf and then began to apply pressure, causing you to whine in pain.

“I want a small house,” you blurted out, piquing Jimin’s interest.

“Small?” He asked, to which you nodded, “I would have thought that after our small rooms at the Organisation, you would have wanted something big?”

You shook your head. Sure, the Organisation’s small bedrooms had driven you crazy at some points, but a large house was just as daunting. Big houses reminded you of your life before the Organisation, and although it wasn’t terrible, it made you feel cold and unsettled. And you told Jimin just that.

He smiled, continuing to hold pressure against your leg, “then a small house you will get.”

“What about you? What do you want once we reach there?” You asked, genuinely curious about his answer. Jimin wasn’t a very materialistic person. At least you watched an unhealthy amount of movies and made a hobby out of talking his ears off. But aside from training, you don’t think you’ve ever witnessed him doing much else.

“Well that’s easy. All I want is you.”

You rolled your eyes, “okay, Romeo. Serious answer please?”

The pressure on your wound suddenly lifted, allowing you to breathe out a sigh of relief, as Jimin checked for bleeding. When he seemed satisfied by the lack thereof, his gaze held yours, shifting to a more serious expression.

“As an orphan, I’ve never stayed in a place comfortable enough to call it home,” he said, “and then when the Organisation kidnapped me, I knew I could kiss any hopes of comfort goodbye.”

“But then I met you. You were lively and intelligent, with a spirit as vivacious as a cool breeze. And though they tried their best, the Organisation couldn’t entirely kill that fire inside you. I was doomed the second you decided to give me the time of day. You quickly became my comfort, my home. So yes, all I really want is you.”

“Since when did you become so chatty, Park Jimin?” You said, trying to distract him from the fact that you were sure your face was red.

But Jimin just gave you a lopsided grin, “ I have to make up for all the times you talked my ear off, don’t I?”

“Hey! I thought you liked listening to my rambling,” you protested.

Jimin stood up suddenly, walking towards you before kneeling down next to your seated form. His hand cupped your face gently as a slight chuckle escaped his lips.

“I’m just kidding baby, of course I like your rambling,” he said softly, “I would listen to your voice all day if I could.”

He brought you closer for a chaste kiss before pulling back and giving you a teasing smile. How you ended up with a man like him you’ll never know. But if the Organisation hasn’t killed you, you know he probably will with his sweet words and even sweeter actions.

His proximity had your whole body feeling warm and fuzzy, especially your hands. It wasn’t until you noticed your hands turning hot when you realised that they weren’t heating as a response to Jimin. Confused, your gaze dropped to where your hands were resting on the floor, Jimin doing the same when he noticed your sudden change in expression.

Your eyes widened.

Dark red liquid enveloped your hands as it pooled in the centre of the small compartment. Jimin’s gaze snapped to your leg, but it had long since stopped bleeding.

“What the hell-” you said, following the trail of blood to the corner of the cages.

Jimin stood, slowly making his way to the source of the trail. The dog from earlier was still soundly asleep in its cage, completely unaware of your presence. Or at least, that’s what the two of you had thought.

As Jimin inched closer, he was starting to realise that the blood was actually seeping from under its cage and pooling into the centre of the compartment. He crouched down with furrowed eyebrows, wondering how the dog could be sleeping through all this. But the answer came to him quickly as he noticed the eerie stillness of the creature.

He wasn’t sleeping.

He was dead.

“Jimin?” Your distressed voice called from behind him.

“The dog is–”

Jimin froze as he stood and turned around, taking in the terrifying scene in front of him. A man almost double your size had pushed a dagger dangerously close to your throat as his other arm wrapped around you, ensuring you couldn’t move.

‘Behind you!’ his mind screamed at him. He knew this move, had learned it multiple times before they had even taught him how to write. But he knew he was too late when he felt the press of a single cool blade against his neck. The owner of said blade chuckled from behind him.

You watched in panic as the man pressed his dagger more firmly against Jimin’s throat, enough to draw a single drop of blood.

“Well, haven’t you both been a surprisingly significant inconvenience today?” A deep voice rang.

Your gaze shifted to the other corner of the room, taking in the entrance of another man. It didn’t take long for you to recognise his tall figure, rugged features, and uniquely marked pistol hanging from his hand.

The Leader.

His sharp gaze scanned over you and Jimin with contempt as he slowly made his way towards the centre of the room. You grimaced when he stepped right into the pool of blood like it was nothing but water.

“You were given direct orders,” he continued, “yet they were disobeyed, despite your pledge of loyalty to the Organisation.”

“Were you not aware of the consequences?”

A silence ensued in the compartment, you nor Jimin willing to provide him with an answer. He didn’t seem to appreciate that.

He flicked his head towards Jimin, and you only had a second to realise the implication of that action.

The man standing behind Jimin suddenly plunged his dagger into him, right below his rib cage, to the point that you could see the tip of the dagger.

“No!” You screamed, trying to run to him but the man behind you held onto you firmly. Jimin groaned in pain, falling to his knees with a hand pressed against the bleeding wound. The man behind him no longer needed to restrain him, opting instead to lean against the wall.

You didn’t bother to hide the tears that started running down your cheeks as you watched Jimin grimace in pain. It felt like the dagger had stabbed you instead because you could’ve sworn pain erupted under your ribcage as well.

“I asked, were you not aware of the consequences?” The Leader asked again.

It made you glare, “since when do you care about what we are and are not aware of?”

But the Leader ignored you as he stepped right in front of Jimin, gaze focused solely on him. He lowered himself into a kneeling position and grabbed Jimin’s chin, forcing him to gaze upwards. The look of pain on Jimin’s face made you sob.

“Yes, I did know,” he said, voice unwavering despite the evident grimace on his face.

“So you both directly disobeyed orders from the Organisation? You admit to being traitors to the most powerful organisation in the world?”

“Spare her,” Jimin said suddenly, as if he’d been holding it in the entire time, “do what you want with me, but please let her go.”

“No!” Like hell you were going to let him take the fall for this, “I forced him to do it. He isn’t a traitor!”

“Shut her up,” the Leader commanded.

You felt pain shoot up your leg as the man behind you dug his heel into your bullet wound. Your knees collapsed to the ground as you tried to muffle your cry of pain.

The Leader scanned Jimin once again, who was starting to look a little dazed with all the blood he'd lost. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

“I’m disappointed in you, Park Jimin,” he sighed, “I had great plans for you. You could’ve married my daughter, become the leader after me. But now you’ve made yourself a traitor, and my daughter is dead.”

Guilt spread through your chest at the news of his daughter’s death. She was the one that could’ve stopped him and his organisation, but now she was no more. No doubt killed at the hands of her own father. You could see a hint of guilt in Jimin’s expression as well.

“I suppose I should thank you for aiding in exposing my daughter for the traitor she was,” the Leader continued, “but we both know the Organisation does not work like that.”

The Leader’s hand went to cup Jimin’s neck, who was now barely keeping his eyes open.

“There are no places for traitors in the Organisation,” the Leader whispered.

Jimin’s dazed, but heavy gaze fell on you, who was doing a poor job at keeping the tears streaming down your face at bay. For the first time in a long time you had trouble understanding what he was trying to say. Goodbye? I’m sorry? I love you? For a moment, you were sent back to when you were 9 again, staring into the eyes of the 12 year old boy who’s expression held a whirlpool of emotions and pleas as he dragged you away from your old life.

Then a dagger sprang from the Leader’s wrist and plunged into Jimin’s neck, causing another scream to rip out of your hoarse throat. This time, Jimin went limp in a matter of seconds, body dropping to the ground as his lifeless eyes stared aimlessly in front of him.

Your sobs filled the compartment’s silence as the Leader paused. He deserved so much better than this. He was so kind and intelligent and talented. He could have done so much, achieved so much if he had only been given the chance. If the Organisation hadn’t gotten to him and made his life a living hell.

The Leader turned to you, but you were no longer paying him any attention. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the nightmare standing in front of you. Not even 10 minutes ago you had been hoping that you weren’t living some kind of dream, but now you’d do anything to wake up back at that hotel. If only you had forced Jimin to kill you at the warehouse. If only you had pushed him away that night in the hotel. If only, if only, if only.

Then Jimin wouldn’t have suffered so much. He could have been back at the base, training for another mission, alive and well. It should’ve been you. It should’ve only been you.

You could make out the Leader making his way towards you before kneeling and forcing your chin to face him. But it didn’t matter, all you could see was Jimin’s lifeless body and it would be the only thing you’d see until the Leader finally decided to end your suffering.

“It’s disappointing watching you in this position considering how hard we worked to get you back from your mother,” he said while shaking his head.

That made your eyebrows furrow momentarily. What did he mean by back from your mother?

Noticing this confusion, the Leader continued, “before you were born, the Organisation had decided to experiment with a new way of recruiting members. Instead of kidnapping children, we decided to try breeding them and then training them as soon as possible. Of course, we had to test this new approach first.”

“So we bred you, the daughter of the strongest assassins in the Organisation at the time. Unfortunately, your mother seemed to grow an attachment to you and ended up stealing you away from us. It was impressive how she managed to hide you from us for 9 years.

“But those 9 years were wasted. During them, you could have trained to become the Organisation’s best assassin. You could have been our most powerful tool.”

The Leader looked back at Jimin, but you couldn’t find it in you to follow his gaze. The image of his lifeless body had been burned into your mind, looking at him just felt like the hot iron was pressing back into your brain once again.

“Both of you could have.”

There might have been a time when the revelation of your history might have shocked you. When learning that your mother had betrayed the Organisation for you might have willed you to look back and connect the dots. But now your mind felt numb. You honestly couldn’t care less if your mother had picked you up from a garbage can. Jimin was gone and you were only running on borrowed time.

“Tragic how the ones destined for greatness always fall the hardest,” he continued.

The Leader’s hand followed up your shoulder until he was cupping your neck. His gaze was the gaze of death, and you focused on it until you no longer could. You closed your eyes, waiting for the final blow.

It’s funny how in the face of death your life didn’t flash before your eyes, nor did you cry hysterically or beg for your life. Instead, the voice of your mother awoke from its slumber in your mind, asking a question that you hadn’t been asked in a long time.

So, what is the moral of the story?

For years you had racked your small brain, trying to find an answer to the question that had seemed so significant and complex to you. It was almost insulting how quickly the answer came to you now. It couldn’t have been more clear.

In the story, that stupid girl had gone her whole life flaunting her grades, her intelligence, and her beauty in the faces of everyone around her. She ensured that anyone, whether friend or stranger, knew about her superiority and magnificence, yet not once did she stop to ponder about how against her that would make others. How willing people could be to destroy her out of jealousy, or how willing people could be to steal what she had and keep it for themself.

Not once did she stop and wonder how she could protect herself in the case of an attack.

She had built the cage that was supposed to protect her with glass, and when the big bad wolf had come for her head, she might as well have handed it over to him on a silver platter.

All your life, you had thought that the metal cage your mother had built around you was to keep you contained, but really it had been made to keep the Organisation out. Once the Organisation had gotten you, you didn’t bother building another. That’s what made you and the girl from the story the same.

You both didn’t bother to prepare, instead you were stupidly content with your glass cages.

But as you felt the Leader’s grip tighten on your neck, you couldn’t help but think you were tired of cages. You’d suffered within the confines of your mother’s, and then the Organisation’s. Your first taste of freedom had been Jimin, but now he was gone and had taken your freedom with him.

“There are no places for failures in the Organisation,” the Leader whispered.

And when the dagger plunged into your neck, a sigh of relief almost escaped your lips.

You were finally free.

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