#mafia Namjoon

[pennyellee]

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒 | 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐀𝐔 pairings: yandere mafia namjoon x barmaid f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, slight porn with plot, 90s word count: 19,7K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily)

masterlist

summary: “You are something I can sin for” An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that’s what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn’t always like that. There was a time where you’ve resented Namjoon with every fibre of your being and every word that came out of his plump lips after what he had done to prove his power. Unfortunately, you will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, manipulation, reader meets namjoon when she was young - nothing happenes until she's of age, forced engagement, kidnapping, graphic violence, death, murder, blood, explicit language, misogyny, mentions of feminism, alcohol usage, mentions of religion and God, church smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, oppa-kink and so on (i'll add some if i'll forget)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

a/n: So here we are! This is the story I've been thrilled to share as it unfolds almost simultaneously with Champagne Confetti. Y/N, alias Peaches, is my baby, and I cannot wait to write more for her and Namjoon after my current project wraps up, wink wink. I have drafts for other fics set in the same universe as my current work and the new one, Anubis. Step by step, my fairies ♥

I hope you will enjoy reading this piece I've kept to myself for a long time. The best thing about writing is that I get to build this world of imagination and live in it for months before it gets to you. Sooo, I'm very nervous and excited to push Anubis out as a second fic within this universe— which now I have decided is going to be called — 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔. Without further ado, enjoy, fairies! ♥

1996

There's a soft whisper in your bones, each time you wake up in the morning. As your eyes flutter open, the room is dimly lit, shadows dancing on the ceiling. All your demons are staring at you from above. They have been there when you went to sleep, and they are still there when you wake up. You know them all too well—regrets, doubts, fears—they've become familiar companions in the lonely hours of the night. They whisper tales of your failures, amplifying every mistake, every misstep, until they echo like thunder in your mind.

But would it be any different if your steps turned the other direction? Would the cosmos allow you to be? Possibly. You, however, will never know what life would be without blood flowing down the stream, dirty money from all the sins you've watched being committed.

You will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it. But the thought is fleeting, for you know deep down that he is as much a part of your story as the demons that haunt you. His presence has shaped you in ways both profound and subtle, leaving an indelible mark on your soul and your body. The agonising pain within still remains and all you can think of is how did you get to this point in your story.

"Bitches come and go, Peaches—" you recalled those words like it was yesterday they were uttered.

"—but you and him, love, you be for life."

An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that's what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn't always like that. There was a time when you resented Namjoon and every word that came out of his plump lips.

Kim Namjoon was trouble and the whole Bronx knew so. Heck, even the whole state knew what kin he came from. You were no exception. But whatever you did, you never managed to put distance between you two.

The world seemed both infinitely vast and impossibly small when the streets of the Bronx were your stage. You were young when you met Namjoon, a whirlwind of youthful energy and reckless abandon, there he is, so vivid in your memories.

Every time you'd help around Anubis, you could see his straying eyes. He had an aura of mischief that drew you in like a moth to a flame. You remember the way his gaze lingered on your skin, straying from the task at hand to fixate on you with a mixture of fascination.

Namjoon's reputation preceded him like a shadow cast by the noonday sun. Entirely impossible to overlook, yet you did. His name was whispered in hushed tones in the back alleys and dark corners where his influence held sway, and that was only the beginning. The magnitude he reached decades later is for another story.

You had heard the rumors—the tales of his involvement with the local gangs, the whispers of his connections to the underworld that lurked beneath the surface of the city. Certainly, you would have to be lying if you said that Anubis was completely legal. You were not that stupid. While it bore the façade of a legitimate establishment, its roots ran deep into the murky waters of the criminal underworld.

Mrs. Jung could smile as widely as she wanted and reassure you that all was fine and all was taken care of, but you couldn't ignore the whispers that circulated about Anubis. Yet she paid triple what you could get in any regular bar. Not like you could work at a regular bar at the time at your age. Survival often depended on turning a blind eye to the unsavory realities of life that you would never be able to face alone. Money was tight and you could not afford to lose such a good-paying job. Even if it took what it took.

"His eyes are hungry for you, Peaches—" said Mrs. Jung while toying with the little umbrella that was swimming in her Kamasutra drink you'd prepared just a few minutes ago. You envisioned your life in the city just like she had, Saint Laurent heels clicking loudly as you would walk down the streets of Manhattan. You admired your lady boss from her head to toes. Mrs. Jung was a symbol of pussy and power. Until she was not. The power was given to her and once she rejected to meet the expectations, it was taken from her.

"—But that's all he can do, at least for now."

She winked your way and then her attention turned to the approaching male figure. What she meant by that is loud and clear. You are underaged and Namjoon cannot make any move on you even if he wanted to. And you knew he respects you that much. Although something tells you that this would be the least illegal thing he would’ve committed.

You’ve met Mark Tuan on occasion when he stopped by the bar. She was not Mrs Jung at the time, yet the notorious life of your lady boss, confused you even then. The way she and Mr Jung behaved around each other gave you the impression that he is her lover and not the tattooed boy that fucked the brains out of her in the office upstairs.

You felt the pain that was reflected on Jung Hoseok’s face when he asked where is she and you had to answer truthfully. The only thing you knew about Namjoon was that he and the Jungs ran way back. Their primary, and to the upper world’s eye, legal assets were the distilleries that distribute whiskey and brandy which you were serving each night till early hours of the morning.

The moment he particularly chose to visit the bar only those evenings you’ve been around was a louder hint shouted your way. As if you haven’t already figured. There was something intoxicating about the way he moved through the world and the way he moved you once your eyes locked.

The way he spoke to you, listened to you so attentively, gave advice on occasion and provided a shoulder to lean on, was all pulling you to him even more. It made you forget about all the skeletons that were in his closet.

The air crackled with anticipation as he walked through the room each night, straight to you, his gaze fixing on you with a mixture of fascination and desire. But amidst the heat of the moment, there was a shadow of doubt that lingered in the back of your mind.

Mrs. Jung's sudden disappearance, Namjoon taking over the day-to-day operations of Anubis—it all seemed too convenient, too perfect to be mere coincidence. It gave him the opportunity to watch you, keep you safe. You were scared that he'd cut you off whenever you fucked up something. But he never did; rather the opposite, offering you a lifeline when you needed it most. There was a chemistry between you that defied explanation, a silent understanding that transcended words.

The way his muscular torso almost pressed against yours in the storage room took your breath away instantly. The faint scent of his cologne enveloped you as he leaned in closer, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Surrounded by crates and boxes of expensive alcoholic beverages, the world seemed to fade away. His hand brushed against yours while he was lifting it, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins as you met his gaze. Reaching above your head to envelop his slender fingers around the throat of the bottle that you could not reach before, he slowly moved closer to hover above your lips. You trembled under his gaze on your lips that were slightly parted; you were panting at this point, reminding you of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of your forbidden romance.

"Just a moment longer."

His voice was a low murmur, a seductive whisper that sent a thrill racing through your veins. Despite the warning bells that rang in the recesses of your mind, you couldn't deny the pull he had over you, the magnetic attraction that drew you closer with each passing moment, his presence overwhelming in the confined space of the storage room. You knew that this was wrong, and yet, as his breath ghosted over your skin, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away.

You would never deny it, but you could not accept it and return his affections the way he wished you would. This was temporary. You never planned to stay in Anubis for longer than needed. It was not where you belonged, and the criminal underbelly of the Bronx was not the life you had envisioned for yourself.

You could not understand what made him stay away from you for such a long time. But it certainly created an opening for you to re-think your next steps.

Somehow, being twenty-one did make you feel the anticipation of living a life. Almost twenty-two when you graduated from college that could be paid as your earnings in Anubis allowed so. Slowly, your little life in the farthest corner of Bronx would come to an end and you could move into the city. Get a job, maybe even a man and kids later. You wanted that white-picket-fence life and you knew that if you wanted to live it peacefully, staying here was not an option.

Your father was strongly against you leaving even though he never approved of the life you led in the dark of nights. He was not a saint either, his hands stained with the same sins that plagued the streets of the Bronx. There was no man in the whole New York City that would not know the name Kim Namjoon and your father was not an exception. Although, you never had the courage to mention his name and acknowledge that the man your father praises when he drinks his beer and plays poker with his drunkard old pals, is spending his evenings talking to you.

"I tell ya all, that Namjoon boy has got a head on his shoulders like no other," your father's voice boomed across the small kitchen.

"A real businessman, that one," a flicker of unease stirring in the pit of your stomach as you caught sight of the familiar glint of admiration in your step-father's eyes. Namjoon's name hung in the air between you, a silent reminder of the bond that had formed between you in the shadows of Anubis.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up running this whole city someday, right, Peaches?" You forced a smile, a wave of uncertainty washing over you as you considered the implications of your father's words. Namjoon's ambitions were as vast as the city itself, his influence reaching far beyond the confines of Anubis and the criminal underworld it symbolized.

"That's Mr. Jung's place, dad," you shook your head disapprovingly but with a smile on your face. His comrades laughed and shared similar ideas as he did though.

"That would be a boy for your Peaches," one of his comrades chuckled, the sound echoing off the walls of the cramped kitchen as they continued to sing Namjoon's praises after you only silently smiled again and opted not to respond. Your father however scoffed. He praised him, yes. But would he approve of his only child being with such a man like Namjoon is?

"When are you leaving for the city, young Missy?" Old man whose name you've never known asked with a cigarette in his mouth, looking over his cards rather than your way.

"Don't even support her in that big apple bullshit." You felt a pang of disappointment at his lack of support, but you were not surprised. You glanced around the kitchen, meeting the eyes of the men gathered there, each one offering their own opinion on your future. Some nodded in agreement with your step-father, while others remained silent, their expressions unreadable.

"Don't listen to those old men, child—"

"You got dreams, girl. Don't let nobody hold you back from chasing 'em.”

Truth to be told. The job, white fence, man and kids were not your dreams. You did not really know what to dream of, being restricted in such a dark part of the world that Bronx was for many, you did not even know why you hate your home like that. And you certainly weren’t even sure what is it to have a dream. But you hoped you’ll create some once you step your foot down, somewhere else than here. It doesn’t have to be Manhattan in particular. Anywhere but here is fine.

"Peaches, love, be sweet and bring us another beer from the fridge on your way to work, would ya?"

The request snapped you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to the present moment. With a nod, you forced a smile, hiding the turmoil within as you moved to comply with his request. You were sure you'd be late to your shift at Anubis yet again, but you knew that Namjoon would turn a blind eye. He always did when it came to you.

But Namjoon was not present the moment you stepped into Anubis that night. As you made your way through the dimly lit interior of Anubis, a sense of foreboding settled over you like a heavy blanket. The usual hustle and bustle of the bar seemed muted, the air thick with tension as you approached the bar.

Mrs. Jung was still nowhere to be found and therefore, for a few months, Namjoon had replaced her. But tonight he was not here. He usually came around ten p.m. and stayed until you cleaned the very last table and closed the bar.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and set about your duties, determined to carry on despite the growing sense of unease that lingered in the air. But as the night wore on, the feeling of dread only intensified, leaving you on edge as you awaited Namjoon's return.

You watched the sun rising through the large windows that let the light come into the bar that was still beaming with a significant number of people of various ages. Despite your efforts to focus on your tasks, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. Where could he be? Why hadn't he shown up as usual? The questions nagged at you, fueling the unease that had settled in your stomach like a lead weight.

"Peaches?!" You heard the voice of one of the local and returning customers from the other side of the dancing floor. He was a friend. Or so you thought. He raised two fingers into the air and in a second you were already pouring the brownish liquid of Jung's Whiskey into the crystal-clear glasses.

You walked over to the table he was sitting at alongside a face you'd never seen before. Thanking you for the drinks, he pointed his thumb to the man sitting next to him.

"Peaches, Jinyoung—"

"Jinyoung, Peaches."

You offered a polite smile, acknowledging the introduction as you set down the drinks on the table. The unfamiliar man, Jinyoung, returned the gesture with a nod, his expression unreadable.

"Nice to meet you, Jinyoung," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of curiosity.

Jinyoung's gaze met yours, his eyes dark and probing as if searching for something within you. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort under his scrutiny, a feeling that only added to the unease already gnawing at your insides. Something about him set off alarm bells in your mind, a primal instinct warning you to tread carefully.

"What's a beauty like you doing tucked in Anubis?" Jinyoung asked, his voice smooth and velvety. You glanced around the dimly lit bar, suddenly aware of the eyes that seemed to linger on you from every corner, not understanding why.

"I... I work here," you said, a sudden shyness prevailing on the surface. You never really engaged with other men apart from Namjoon. For some reason, each time a man approached you, all of them quickly backed out, opting to not even look your way. For a long time, you did not know what you did wrong to chase them all away. But you got to know that night.

Jinyoung's lips quirked into a knowing smile, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I can offer you a better job, beauty," his words dripping with a seductive allure, and in that moment, you decided you needed to get back to work ASAP. He sounded like trouble you did not want on your last days here.

"I... I appreciate the offer, but I'm quite content here," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"You sure? I could have good use of someone like you, Peaches." Your heart pounded in your chest as Jinyoung's words washed over you. He played with your name on his tongue, and you had a hint that the job he was offering you would be something much worse than working in Anubis.

"Easy, Jinyoung, that's Namjoon's girl you're talking to." Jackson finally spoke up as if he heard your little begging in your head, but this was not what you expected him to say. Were you Namjoon's girl? Years went by and he merely brushed upon your hand with his own. There was no attempt to woo you directly. So how come everyone saw it this way—you as Namjoon's girl?

"I'm not Namjoon's girl—" you said, standing your ground for once. You saw Jackson's eyes widen and Jinyoung smirk at your remark.

"I'm no one's girl—"

"Nonetheless, thanks for the offer but I have to decline." Jinyoung's smirk widened at your words, his gaze flickering with amusement as if he found your defiance entertaining. A second later you were on your way back to the bar. He was Jackson's friend, but he was crude and he did not understand he ought to fuck off. The grip you suddenly felt on your upper arm was painful enough to make you wince, yanking you back as you squinted your eyes from the pain of his touch.

"What makes you say no if you're no one's slu—" your ears picked up his words before they were silenced. Forever. His last words were cut off by a deafening gunshot, leaving you frozen in shock. The sound of it still ringing in your ears as you turned to see the source of the chaos. There, standing with a smoking gun in his hand, was Namjoon, his expression unreadable as he stared down at Jinyoung's lifeless form. One side of Jackson's face was covered in blood that was his friend's, his shock mirroring your own. And you were scared to even move an inch.

Namjoon had just killed a man in cold blood, he shot him right in front of you. Without mercy. Panic surged through you as you realized the gravity of what had just transpired. The grip he had on your upper arm weakened yet remained even after his head fell down. It was a clear shot to the side of his head.

By now, half of the bar emptied, only those underworld rats stayed unfazed. Namjoon was always so calm, so collected. But now, he looked like a completely different person. The bar had fallen into an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of your own ragged breathing. You wanted to run, but your legs failed you, unable to move as the reality of the situation sank in.

"What—" your heart hammered in your chest as you searched for something, anything, to say, but the words caught in your throat, choked by the weight of the moment. Your whole body trembled uncontrollably, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. You reached to pull your hand away from Jinyoung's lifeless grip and while you struggled to do so, the scenery before you was not helping you to calm down. The side of his head blown up, you could see parts of his brain, immediately making you empty your stomach on the floor. The fact that Namjoon hadn't said a word since he literally came out of nowhere was not contributing to the situation either.

You heard his smooth voice but it was too muffled at this point. He was giving orders to Jackson, but you did not understand a single word coming out of his mouth. Your head was spinning and the room felt like a carousel.

"Why would you—" you began to stutter, your voice barely a whisper. The question died on your lips, swallowed by the overwhelming sense of dread that hung heavy in the air. Namjoon had just committed an act of unspeakable violence, ending a man's life without a second thought. Nothing will be the same ever again. You stayed out of all the illegalness that surrounded Anubis on purpose. What eyes don't see, heart doesn't hurt. What you don't know, can't hurt you. But now you eye-witnessed such brutality and he won't let you walk away to the other end of the rainbow.

You did not expect him to hear you nor even answer your remark, but of course, Kim Namjoon was always here to listen to you.

"He touched you."

The words hit you like a physical blow, jolting you out of your stunned silence. He wasn't just stating a fact; he was issuing a warning, a chilling reminder of the consequences of crossing him. Looking him in the eye, he looked like a possessive maniac, like someone determined to protect what he perceived as his.

"He didn't—" you began, your voice faltering under the weight of Namjoon's scrutiny. Yet you stopped yourself to think whether Jinyoung's intentions were harmless or not. You remembered the way Jinyoung had leered at you, his touch lingering where it shouldn't have.

"No one can touch you, Peaches."

You felt a chill run down your spine as the weight of his words settled over you. It wasn't just a declaration; it was a promise, a vow to protect you at any cost. But beneath the surface, you sensed something darker, something primal and possessive that sent chills down your body.

You were paralyzed by the intensity of his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away from his. Your mind raced with a million thoughts and questions, but you knew better than to voice them.

That night you started to hate each and every gaze he threw your way when you were working, all the men running away after uttering a single word to you, and all the remarks about you being Namjoon's girl.

But were you ready to be Namjoon's girl? To be part of his world?

You sit up, the sheets clinging to your skin like a shroud, and confront the spectres that linger above. Even after some weeks, you still cannot shake off the tremor you've experienced that night.

"Peaches?!" You heard your father's voice. You were hidden in the confines of your small room for days now, coming out only to take a bottle of water, and even that you managed to minimize by taking the whole six-pack. You couldn't bring yourself to respond.

The look in Namjoon's eyes, the sound of the gunshot ringing in your ears, the sight of Jinyoung's lifeless body—all of it was seared into your mind, haunting you like a relentless spectre. You needed some time. But it was running out quickly.

Lost in the labyrinth of your thoughts, you remained silent, grappling with the weight of the choices that lay before you. You packed your bag last night, all the cash stuffed inside at various places, just to be turned right back on your heel by two muscular men you'd never met before. The color they wore was emerald green, and you quickly understood that those were Jung soldiers, if you could call them that.

Your father was similarly confused. His eyes were darting between you and the soldiers as he struggled to make sense of the situation. So here you are, awaiting when he will decide to collect you. What is he waiting for? You knew that your time was running out; you just didn't know exactly when it would run out.

In that moment that night, you missed the Namjoon you thought he was. All you could see was a stranger, a dangerous man whose actions had shattered your illusions and left you reeling in their wake. Yes, you knew his line of work, but you'd rather not see it with your own two eyes. You'd rather stay oblivious to who he really was just to keep the picture of the Namjoon you knew hanging a little bit longer.

"You can't hide there forever." And you certainly did not plan to, but coming out to see your father's worried face after he sees how disheveled you look could wait for another day or so. You did not know what Namjoon intended to achieve by making you a prisoner in your own home.

Every fiber of your being wanted to hate Namjoon, but you did not know whether that was even possible with how smart that man was with his mouth.

This cage of fear and uncertainty made you uneasy. The wind that forcefully closed your window awoke you from your thoughts. You lived on the second floor of an old block of apartments. You moved toward the old rusted window, cautiously pushing it open again. The cool night air rushed to meet your cheeks, and you closed your eyes to feel it.

Peering down, you assessed the drop. It wasn't too high, and the fire escape just below offered a feasible route. Why had it not occurred to you earlier?

"Peaches, please, talk to me. They've been saying that you can't go out and should wait for sajangnim Kim."

Your father's voice was strained, a mix of concern and frustration. You hesitated, torn between the urge to reassure him and the pressing need to just run for the hills before it was too late for you.

What you realized in the moment, listening to his muffled pleas, was that this might be the last time you'd see him. You couldn't come back to the Bronx ever again. Nor New York. You weren't sure exactly what the magnitude of Jung's power was that Namjoon shared, but you had the hunch that wherever you'd hide in this state, he would find you.

"Dad?" you said softly, your voice barely a whisper. You felt a lump in your throat, the weight of the impending goodbye pressing down on you. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"I'm here, Peaches," your father responded, his voice breaking slightly. "Please, come out. We'll figure this out." Tears welled up in your eyes as you clung to the closed door.

"It's no go, Dad."

"Please, just open the door." His voice was closer now, just outside the door.

You glanced around your room, grabbing your packed bag and slipping it over your shoulder.

"I love you, Dad. I'm sorry. Bye—"

With a final, sorrowful glance toward the door, you slipped out of the window, your feet finding purchase on the metal grating of the fire escape. You descended quickly, not daring to look back. The metal stairs creaked under your weight, each step taking you further from the life you knew. You needed to disappear.

You had no shoes on, and the white tank top clung to your skin, outlining your curves and breasts. The night air was cool against your exposed skin, a harsh contrast to the warmth of your tears. The metal of the stairs felt rough under your bare feet, but you pushed forward until you were all the way down.

Catching your breath and glancing around the dimly lit alleyway, the city felt oppressively silent, the only sound your own ragged breathing. As you took a step forward, a soft scoff resonated in your ears, leaving you standing there frozen. The man was totally invisible in the dark shadows of the alley between the buildings until he pulled out his zippo lighter to light a cigarette, illuminating his face. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Where are you headed, Peaches?"

The man who was casually leaning against the cold bricks wasn't unfamiliar to you. You, as a barmaid at Anubis, had the extravagant privilege to meet four out of the big seven. Kim Taehyung being one of them, standing here in front of you.

"Mr. Kim," you breathed, dread pooling in your stomach. You were on a first-name basis only with Namjoon even though they all scolded you, especially your lady boss, for being way too formal and polite, making them feel older than they actually are. Truth be told, you were putting some distance between them, but you utterly failed to do so with Namjoon, and here you are, on the run.

"I'm your family now, Peaches," Taehyung said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You should start getting used to that, so drop the mister finally."

You gritted your teeth, trying to steady your nerves as you faced Taehyung. "Taehyung," you corrected yourself, though the informal address felt wrong on your tongue.

"That's better, what a good girl you can be," he said with a smirk, taking a step closer. His presence felt suffocating, a reminder of the dangerous world you had stumbled into.

"Why are you here, Taehyung?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

"Why are you here, Peaches?" Taehyung countered, his tone filled with amusement. You bit the inside of your mouth, feeling the nerves tighten their grip on you.

"Getting some fresh air," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Ah, yes, because nothing says 'fresh air' like sneaking out of your window in the dead of night," he quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you. "I just needed to clear my head," you said, hoping he would buy your flimsy excuse.

"You are not planning to do anything stupid now, Peaches, right?" You paused, considering your response carefully. Taehyung's tone, though casual, carried a hint of warning that sent a shiver down your spine. You slightly shook your head to show dismissal.

"Namjoon-hyung said you looked pretty shaken up that night." You couldn't help but tense at Taehyung's mention of Namjoon, a surge of apprehension coursing through you. You had tried to bury the memories of that night deep within you, but they continued to resurface, haunting your every thought.

"I'm fine," you replied, forcing a tight smile. "Just had a rough night, that's all."

"It looks like you're about to have another one to me." Your heart skipped a beat at Taehyung's ominous remark, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Despite his casual demeanor, there was an underlying tension in the air that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rising sense of unease.

"Unzipped duffle bag, dollar bills fell from it while you were going down, that looks like you were very eager to get that fresh air."

"I... I was just going for a walk," you stammered, scrambling for an excuse. Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering.

"Without putting your shoes on?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Taehyung's scrutiny bearing down on you. "I couldn't sleep," you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I needed some fresh air to clear my head.” You repeat yourself, but you know that you can’t fool him no matter what.

Taehyung's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he shrugged, as if dismissing the matter altogether. "Well, you certainly know how to make an exit," he remarked, his smirk never faltering.

You forced a weak smile, trying to mask the unease bubbling inside you. "Guess I've always had a flair for the dramatic," you quipped, though the words rang hollow in your ears.

Taehyung chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "That you do, Peaches. That you do," he said cryptically, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

"You know, Namjoon doesn't like it when his... family goes missing," he said, the emphasis on 'family' making you flinch. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a lazy stream.

You clenched your fists, feeling trapped. "I'm not missing," you said, your voice firmer than before. "I'm right here."

"I'd probably get a head start if I were you." Taehyung nodded slowly, as if considering your words.

Your heart pounded in your chest. "A head start?"

He took another drag, the smirk never leaving his lips. "I'm not a monster, Peaches. I'll give you a five-minute head start before I come after you."

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. He was actually giving you a chance to run, but this time you would know someone was after you. You glanced around, calculating your options. The streets were empty, but you knew they wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Five minutes, Peaches. Starting now."

You turned and ran, your bare feet slapping against the pavement. The adrenaline coursed through your veins as you sprinted down the alley, knowing that Taehyung's smirk was etched in your mind.

You didn't know where you were going, but you knew you had to get as far away as possible. Everything blurred as you pushed yourself to run faster, the sound of your heartbeat drowning out everything else.

If you hide well, he can't find you, can he? You just have to find yourself a place to hide until morning and then you can wait till sunrise, get to the airport and fly to the first destination that will pop up.

You could feel the cold concrete scraping your feet, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the urgency of escape. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Taehyung's figure emerging from the shadows, but for now, you were alone.

You could feel the cold concrete scraping your feet, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the urgency of escape. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Taehyung's figure emerging from the shadows, but for now, you were alone.

The five minutes neared their end, and you knew you couldn't stay hidden forever. You had to keep moving, keep putting distance between you and Taehyung. Peering through the leaves, you scanned the area, your mind racing through possible routes and hiding spots.

"If I don’t bring you back, he'll come instead, Peaches!" Taehyung's voice echoed through, taunting you.

"You don't want to anger him, do you now?"

You needed a plan, and fast. Glancing around, you noticed a narrow passageway between two buildings, just wide enough for you to squeeze through. It might lead you to a different part of the neighborhood, giving you a chance to lose Taehyung in the labyrinth of backstreets.

You bolted towards the passageway, your bare feet slapping against the cold pavement. The alley was narrow and dark, but you pushed forward, heart pounding in your chest. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the stillness of the night.

"They all run at first, Peaches—" Taehyung's voice echoed, closer now. "You're cute thinking you have a chance to get away."

It was way too narrow even if you put your bag down from your shoulder and dragged it as you tried to squeeze through. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the stillness of the night, and you were scared that he would get to you soon. You knew he was out there, somewhere, searching for you.

"Although, my mind is troubled. Why, out of all of them, do you run?" There was a pause, then a chuckle.

You pushed yourself harder, feeling the rough brick walls scrape against your skin. You needed to keep moving, but you also needed a moment to think. The airport was too far, especially when they were already looking for you. You thought you were clever to disappear through the window as if you were in some cheesy cliché movie.

"Namjoon-hyung was always good to you, wasn't he?" He was. Until the moment someone else's brain was blown up by him right in front of you, simply because of his possessiveness while he never made you two exclusive. Or at least you thought so, as it showed—you were claimed by him sooner than you actually realized. You felt the panic rising in your chest, threatening to overwhelm you.

"You have no reason to run, Peaches," Taehyung's voice was taunting, echoing off the walls. "Namjoon-hyung will be so disappointed when he finds out how far you've gone." You ignored the majority of his words, focusing on finding a way out.

You closed your eyes and tried to think harder this time. The old train yard—bingo—it was on the outskirts of the city. It was abandoned, a place where few people ventured. If you could make it there, you might be able to find a boxcar to hide in until morning.

"Family doesn't abandon family, Peaches!" You heard his voice again, this time more distant.

Emerging from the passageway, you found yourself in a small courtyard. It was littered with old furniture and discarded trash; the smell was awful, but you didn't have time to dwell on that.

You listened intently, straining to hear any sign of Taehyung. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a dog.

You stuck to the shadows, moving as quietly as possible. The train yard was a long way off, but it was your best shot at staying out of immediate reach. Or so you thought.

You couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every rustle of leaves, every distant footstep made you jump. You forced yourself to stay calm, to focus on the path ahead. Panicking would only slow you down.

The city's edge came into view, the silhouette of the train yard looming in the distance. You quickened your pace, the sight of your potential sanctuary giving you a burst of energy. You crossed the threshold into the yard, the rusted tracks and abandoned cars offering a twisted sense of comfort.

An old boxcar with the door slightly ajar beckoned to you. You slipped inside, the smell of rust and decay filling your nostrils. You closed the door behind you, plunging the space into darkness. It was cramped and musty, but it was hidden.

Sinking to the floor, you allowed yourself a moment to breathe. Your body ached, your feet throbbed, but you had made it. For now, you were safe. You could only hope that Taehyung would give up the chase, or at least lose your trail long enough for you to figure out your next move.

The sound of gravel crunching outside the boxcar woke you up and consequently made your heart jump into your throat. You held your breath, straining to listen. The footsteps were deliberate and slow, echoing through the stillness of the night.

You held your breath, trying to remain as quiet as possible. The footsteps drew closer, each crunch of gravel sending a shockwave through your body. Your mind raced with possibilities. Was it Taehyung? Or perhaps someone else stumbling upon your hiding spot?

"I seriously don't understand why you didn't throw her over your shoulder and take her back to her room." The older male shot him a glare.

"Oh come the fuck on, you're one to talk." It was Taehyung's voice, laced with frustration and annoyance.

“I did not lose her, I gave her choice and she chose wrong, she’ll be back though, in no time.” The younger one scoffed and Taehyung quirked his brows, evidently amused by his brother. 

"Well, at least that was my woman I lost and not our Hyung's." The tattooed heartthrob spat his friend's way when he heard his scoff.

"This isn't really my job. I'm only doing this because Namjoon cares about her too much to leave someone incompetent to watch her until he'll come back."

“Or you’re the only one without a woman, Tae.” You heard a little thump as if he jokingly punched him and the other voice chuckled. But first and foremost –

Namjoon's away. He did not come for you as he's away, and if away means out of the state, you have a bigger chance to make an exit than you originally thought.

Seeing him would only make things worse. Listening to his sweet melodies of words would make you doubt what Taehyung initiated—you have no reason to run. Apart from that, you do. He was deeply entrenched in the world of organized crime, his life a constant dance between power and peril. While his charming demeanor and enigmatic presence had drawn you in, you knew that his lifestyle came with its own set of risks and consequences.

He operated in the shadows, his actions dictated by a code of loyalty to his comrades and ruthlessness towards his enemies. At least that's what you heard people talk about the Jungs and their family man.

You didn't think there was room for innocence. But were you innocent? You had blood on your hands. Jinyoung's. You had been complicit in his demise. While it wasn't you who pulled the trigger, you were the motive.

As the voices grew louder, you strained to make out what they were saying. The sound of footsteps approached the boxcar, each one sending a jolt of fear through you. Were they getting closer? Were they about to open the door and drag you out into the open?

"I did not expect her to play the game that well, I have to give her that," Taehyung remarked, his voice tinged with admiration. Your heart raced as you listened to their conversation.

"Smart, just like he is."

The footsteps came to a stop just outside the boxcar, and you braced yourself for the door to swing open at any moment. Every nerve in your body was on edge, ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

But instead of the door creaking open, the voices began to fade away, the gravel crunching underfoot growing softer as they moved further away. Relief washed over you in waves, but you remained cautious, waiting until the sound of their footsteps had disappeared entirely before allowing yourself to relax.

You stayed hidden in the darkness of the boxcar, unsure of how much time had passed. Eventually, the adrenaline began to ebb, leaving you exhausted and drained. You were scared that they were waiting outside and the moment you decided to move places would be fatal for you.

The growl in your stomach was loud, echoing in the empty boxcar. You hadn't eaten in what felt like an eternity, and the gnawing hunger was beginning to take its toll. Despite the fear that they might be lying in wait, you knew you couldn't stay here forever or you'd die of hunger very soon.

Despite the fear that they might be lying in wait, you knew you couldn't stay here forever. Peeking through the small gap, you scanned the area. The night was still, and there was no sign of Taehyung or anyone else.

Slipping out of the boxcar, you kept to the shadows, moving quietly and quickly. You needed to find food, but more importantly, you needed to find a safer place to hide. If you couldn't reach the airport, you'd have to wait somewhere until you were considered off the radar. Would Namjoon lose his interest if he knew you were gone for good? You hoped so, but you also strongly doubted that. The man had had his eyes set on you for three years or so, without ever losing interest in you.

The city was vast, with many nooks and crannies where you could potentially evade capture, but you moved in the dead of the night cautiously. Slowly closing the distance between the convenience store at least ten blocks from your home, its lights were still on and you thanked the almighty, or more so the 24 hour market in front of you.

The store seemed deserted, only a shabby-looking man in his mid-thirties sitting behind the counter, half asleep. You slipped inside, quickly grabbing some food and water before leaving to pay at the counter. When the doorbell rang indicating that a customer entered the small store, you froze in place.

You ducked behind a shelf, hoping the dim lighting and cluttered aisles would conceal you. Peering through a gap between products, you saw a figure enter. You may be paranoid but you wouldn't take the risk when you had managed to not be caught for what seemed like hours. You knew better.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound of your heartbeat almost louder than the growling stomach from earlier. You clutched the food tightly, muscles tense, waiting for the perfect moment to quickly throw the few bucks on the counter and make your leave. You straightened a little.

It wasn't him. It was just a person that resembled him. With a rush of relief, you moved to the counter. The shabby-looking clerk barely glanced up as you placed your items down and reached into your pocket for the money. Just as you were about to pay, a hand slammed the money down on the counter in front of you. Your heart skipped a beat and your eyes widened.

You looked up slowly, dread pooling in your stomach. Taehyung stood beside you, his eyes locking onto yours with a cold, triumphant smile.

"My treat," he said smoothly, his voice dripping with mock politeness. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The clerk, oblivious to the tension, lazily rang up the items and handed the change to Taehyung. He pocketed it without breaking eye contact with you.

You acted rather quickly after you regained your senses, but the exit was blocked by the man you saw earlier. How could you not recognize the famous heartthrob of this decade, Jeon Jungkook? Only a few people knew of his connection to the Jungs, Kims, and Parks.

"Going somewhere?" Jungkook's voice was smooth and exactly identical to the one you heard outside of the boxcar, but there was an edge to it that sent chills down your spine. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his dark eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam.

Panic surged through you as you realized your escape route was cut off. You glanced around the store, searching for another way out, but Taehyung's hand clamped down on your arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

The clerk did not care to intervene; he knew their faces and what they represented. One girl was not worth the trouble for him.

"Let's go," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. You had no choice but to follow, your mind racing with thoughts of escape. As you stepped out of the store, the chilly night air hit you, a stark contrast to the suffocating presence of Taehyung beside you. You scanned the street for any potential way out, but Taehyung's grip on your arm tightened, steering you toward a nearby alley.

You stumbled slightly, trying to keep pace with him. The alley was dark and narrow, the perfect place for someone to disappear. Desperation surged through you, fueling your determination. You had to find a way out of this.

"You lasted more than I expected, Peaches. I have to give you that." You fought to suppress the shiver that threatened to run down your spine. Taehyung's voice, usually smooth and melodic, now held an edge of something darker, something sinister.

"But it's time to go home."

The weight of his intentions pressed down on you like a heavy stone. You did not know what home he was speaking of. Your home? Namjoon's home? You'd never been there; you couldn't know what home he meant. But something told you that wherever he'd take you, "home" would be a gilded cage, a place of confinement disguised as comfort.

You remained silent, your jaw clenched in defiance as you continued to walk, your eyes darting around the alley for any sign of escape. But every corner seemed to lead to another dead end, and the walls closed in around you like a vice.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the desperation hit your nerves. Taehyung's grip tightened slightly, as if warning you against any further attempts at escape.

"There was no need to run, Peaches." Wasn't there? You stopped to think for a minute. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

With a sudden burst of strength, you twisted out of Taehyung's grip and bolted. The sound of his shout echoed behind you, but you didn't look back. You darted through the maze of backstreets, your only goal to put as much distance between you and Taehyung as possible.

Reaching a dead end, you spotted a fire escape ladder. Without a second thought, you began climbing, your fingers slipping on the cold metal. You reached the rooftop, not daring to look back as you sprinted across the gravel. The cityscape stretched before you, a chaotic playground of rooftops and danger.

You leaped from one building to the next, each landing jarring your bones, but you couldn't stop. You heard Taehyung's voice calling your name, a mix of frustration and anger, but you didn't dare slow down. You reached the edge of a particularly wide gap between buildings and hesitated, just a split second too long.

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you back. You thrashed, but the grip was unyielding. Jungkook's face came into view, his expression grim. He was faster than Taehyung, and you knew your chances to outrun him were slight, but you still hoped.

"You can't run forever, Peaches," he said quietly, almost regretfully. You could hear Taehyung's leather boots stomping against the roof's concrete and his ragged breath in unison.

You struggled, kicking and clawing, but he held firm. Your heart sank as the reality of the situation set in. Just then, you heard the uncomfortable digital sound of the Motorola flip phone that was in Taehyung's hand once he stopped in front of you.

"Hmm?" Taehyung answered the phone and ended the gut-wrenching sound. You knew who was on the other side of the line. Jungkook still held you securely, his eyes never leaving yours.

There was a pause, and then he handed you the phone.

"Your Mr. Man wants to speak to you."

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the phone heavy in your hand. With a deep breath, you brought it to your ear, steeling yourself for the inevitable confrontation with Namjoon.

"Hello?" Your voice trembled slightly, betraying the fear and uncertainty swirling within you.

"You're losing sleep, love," he said, his tone smooth but laced with a menacing undertone. You took a shaky breath.

"S-so are you." He chuckled. You bit the inside of your lip out of nerves.

"I'd sleep better if you came back to me like the good girl I know you are."

The mixture of his charm and underlying threat was intoxicating and terrifying.

"I can't, Namjoon," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I can't live like this anymore. I never wanted to live like this, and you knew that."

"Life is just about to begin for you, love—" he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Our life," he added, and your grip tightened around the phone.

"What does that even mean?" you demanded, a mix of anger and desperation coloring your words.

"It means," he began, his voice smooth yet chilling, "that whatever you fear, we'll figure this out together."

"Please, Namjoon," you begged, your voice barely a whisper. "Let me go. I can't. I just can't," you cried out.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and you held your breath, hoping against hope that he might relent. Your heart pounded with a mix of fear and helplessness.

"Freedom is an illusion, love," he said, almost gently. "The only freedom you'll ever have is with me. Now, come back. We'll talk this through, and I promise you, everything will be fine. Just trust me."

"Namjoon—"

"Peaches—" he quickly interrupted your attempt to plead again.

"Don't make me take harsher measures to ensure you'll come back to me." His tone grew colder, the underlying threat unmistakable.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" you asked, a tremor in your voice.

"You know what I can do. It would be a shame if the same thing happened to someone else you care about." His words hung in the air, heavy with menace.

You looked at Jungkook and Taehyung, their faces impassive yet resolute. They were ready to enforce Namjoon's will, no matter the cost.

"Why are you doing this to me?" you asked, voice quivering.

"We can talk about that once you come home," Namjoon replied, his voice smooth but unyielding.

"Namjoon, please..." you started, desperation lacing your words.

"Enough, Peaches," he cut you off sharply. "You know what's at stake. I expect you back within an hour. Hand the phone to Taehyung."

With a heavy heart, you handed the phone back to Taehyung. He took it, his eyes filled with a mix of pity, but you didn't think it was genuine. You felt Jungkook's grip loosen slightly, but not enough to let you go.

Taehyung listened to Namjoon for a moment, then nodded. "Understood," he said before hanging up. He looked at you, his expression resigned.

"Let's go," he said softly.

You don't even know how you managed to fall asleep in the car. They took your bag, draped a warm blanket over you, and sat you down on the back seat. You did not protest anymore, even though the thought of jumping out of the car went through your head briefly.

You thought of your father, your friends, and everyone you ever met and cared for when he took the ultimate move that would make you leave everything in a heartbeat. You don't want more blood on your hands.

At the same time, you could not understand why Namjoon would take such harsh measures. This wasn't the Namjoon you knew—heck, you don't even know if you ever knew that man.

The lavish room surrounding you was magnificent and screaming one name: Namjoon. Even his scent was clinging to every single piece of the room. The silk sheets clung to your skin, and you couldn't help but close your eyes again. The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a golden hue across the room.

You could hear the audible difference in your surroundings. The Bronx had a distinctive hum, a chaotic symphony of life and struggle. But this—this was different. The sounds outside the open window were unmistakably Manhattan. The distant buzz of traffic, the occasional honk of a horn, and the muffled chatter of people far below created a stark contrast to the quiet tension inside.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. Every moment spent here felt like a betrayal to the life you once knew, the people you once loved. But escape wasn't just about physical freedom—it was about breaking free from the psychological chains Namjoon had wrapped around you.

You did not know whether you weren't running for the hills now because this oddly feels like you are meant to be here or because you don't know if you should. You spent a lot of time rolling around and thinking about this. You had not come to a conclusion yet. You'd only decided that you would give him the courtesy to talk after all the years that he and his family supported you by giving you a job.

With that resolve, you climbed out of bed, feeling the weight of silk sheets slipping away. The cold floor sent a shiver up your spine, bringing you fully awake. You made your way to the bathroom, the reflection in the mirror staring back at you. You need a haircut, maybe even a new hair color.

The shower's hot water provided a temporary refuge, washing away the grime and tension of the past few days. After drying off, you dressed in clothes Namjoon had probably laid out for you—an unspoken reminder of his control.

You entered the kitchen, where the aroma of breakfast hung in the air. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the rich aroma of bacon and eggs, momentarily distracting you. You were starving.

As you moved further into the room, a sudden noise made you jump. Startled, you turned to see a figure in a white chef's uniform bustling about the kitchen. He looked up, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw you.

"Good morning, Misses Kim," he said with a polite nod. "I didn't expect you to be up so early.” The title he used sent a shiver down your spine. Misses Kim. It was as if the walls were closing in, suffocating you with the weight of an identity that wasn’t yours to claim. You overlooked yourself and your attire.

You could see your bra-less breasts and perky nipples through that white tanktop, but the chef was trained well enough to not look that way. He would most likely be beheaded by Namjoon if he would dare to look that way.

"Good morning," you replied, your voice tinged with a mix of nerves and hunger. You forced a small smile.

The chef, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, set down the spatula he was holding and wiped his hands on a towel. "My name is Seo Kang-joon, Misses Kim. I'm Sajangnim's private chef—" you figured that much. Of course that man has a private chef when he cannot boil a potato for the love of God.

"He tasked me to make you some breakfast and tell you he'll be with you shortly," he explained, gesturing to the array of food laid out on the counter.

You nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen island. Your stomach growled audibly, and despite the chaos in your mind, the food before you was an undeniable lure. You picked up a piece of toast, buttering it slowly as Kang-joon resumed his work.

"How long have you been working for Namjoon?" you asked, trying to fill the silence with something other than your own anxious thoughts.

Kang-joon glanced up from the stove, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "About three years now," he replied. "I've switched with my Appa; he was working for the Kims for two generations and now it's my turn—"

"That's a long time," you said, taking a bite of the toast, the warmth of the food providing a small comfort.

"Yes, it is," he agreed, his voice gentle. "Namjoon is a good employer, he's always treated us fairly. And he cares about you a great deal—"

"I've seen you before, didn't I?" you interrupted, suddenly recalling a moment that had slipped through your mind like sand.

"At the private party last month. You were serving food, right?"

Kang-joon nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yes, that was me. I remember seeing you there, although you were quite busy too—"

You were supposed to be waitressing the tables, plural, yet you only waitressed one table that night. As per usual.

"Yep, that was my reality, I guess," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Before all of this."

Kang-joon's expression turned somber, and he stopped cooking momentarily.

"Namjoon doesn't let anyone near you, but I've seen how happy you make him. He's different around you." Of course he thinks so. You don't blame him for his inability to see through this. It's not his place.

You fell silent, pondering his words. The chaos of Namjoon's life and the dark undercurrents that surrounded him felt suffocating. "But at what cost?" you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

"He means well—" he paused his thought and got silent, and you knew that means only one thing.

"I appreciate your loyalty to him," you said, forcing a smile that felt brittle on your lips.

"Good morning, love," he said, his voice deep and commanding. His eyes darted between you and Kang-joon, who stood with a spatula in hand, caught in the moment. "I hope you're both having a pleasant chat."

Kang-joon bowed slightly, and you could see the way he was careful to keep his composure, even as the atmosphere shifted with Namjoon's presence. "I was just finishing up breakfast, Sajangnim," he said politely. "Miss Kim and I were discussing your—"

"Thank you, Kang-joon," Namjoon interrupted, his tone suggesting a mixture of gratitude and an underlying tension. "I can take it from here."

The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken words. You looked at him, wanting to scream, wanting to run, wanting to demand answers.

"Did you sleep well?" Namjoon asked, his voice softer now, as if he was trying to breach the walls that had begun to rise between you.

You nursed your coffee in the black ceramic mug while you shrugged, keeping the answer with spice in it for yourself just yet. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, you could see the cracks in his façade when you didn't answer.

"I see... silent treatment," he gulped down, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. Pouring himself a cup of coffee too, he leaned on the counter right in front of you. You took his appearance in. He got a buzz cut, creamy satin shirt tucked in leather pants. A few of the buttons were undone, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest.

"Is that really how you want to start the day?" he provoked. You set the mug down, the clink of ceramic against marble echoing in the tension-filled kitchen.

"Did you ask yourself the same question when you threatened me?" you shot back, your voice rising slightly as the memories flooded back. The anger surged within you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since the moment you woke up in his penthouse.

Namjoon's expression shifted, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a flicker of defensiveness.

"Well, you for some reason seemed too adamant that you needed to patrol the streets of Bronx by running away from me. I know you too damn well, Peaches; I know where you were headed."

The words stung, each syllable laced with accusation and an unsettling truth. Your heart raced, the anger bubbling just below the surface.

"You know fucking shit, Namjoon—"

"Oppa," he jumped in, his voice firm, yet tinged with a note of caution.

You inhaled sharply, the familiar term slicing through the tension like a knife. It reminded you of the intimate moments you once shared. "You've lost that honorific the moment you decided to threaten me and kill that man right in front of my eyes!"

Namjoon's jaw clenched, and you could see the conflict brewing beneath his composed exterior.

"You don't understand the kind of world I'm in. We protect ours."

"Protect?" you spat, feeling the heat of betrayal wash over you.

"I'm a person who deserves to make her own choices—" He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing.

"What choices are you making? Running off into the night like it's some kind of adventure? You think that's brave? I refuse to let you get hurt because you're unhappy with my decisions."

"Oh yeah, like something would happen to me—"

"You are my woman, and people know that you are, Peaches!" he declared, his voice rising with intensity, as if the weight of his words was meant to command respect from the universe itself.

Your heart raced at his proclamation, a mix of anger and something softer twisting in your gut.

"The fuck you're talking about, Namjoon?" You snapped, your voice echoing off the sleek kitchen walls. Anger surged within you, fueled by the sheer audacity of his claim.

"Not fucking once did you say that we ought to be official one day—" you shot back, your voice dripping with disbelief.

"You act like I'm some sort of possession, something you can just claim without any conversation or commitment!" Namjoon's expression hardened, a flicker of frustration flashing in his eyes.

"You need to stop pretending like we don't have a future because you're scared of the past," he said, smashing the mug down on the counter. Namjoon's jaw tightened, and the conflict in his eyes was palpable.

"Since we met, not fucking once have you made your intentions strictly clear, Namjoon! The fuck am I doing here then?!" The words burst from your lips, raw and unfiltered, echoing in the tense space between you.

He ran a hand over his face, visibly struggling to keep his composure.

"I thought you knew. I thought you felt it too," he replied, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I thought it was understood that it was a matter of time."

"Understood?" you scoffed, incredulity seeping into your tone. "You think that just because you've made me a part of your life, I should automatically know my place? That's not how it works!"

"I was waiting till you'll—"

"Age of consent is eighteen in this state, Namjoon, keep that bullshit to yourself." Namjoon's expression darkened at your words, and you could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"So you would rather be wifed and knocked up as soon as we met, am I right?"

The air crackled with tension as Namjoon's words hung in the space between you, a provocation that sent shockwaves through your body. You felt your breath hitch, a mixture of shock and anger coursing through you.

"So that's the plan now?" you lowered your voice.

His expression softened for a moment, and you could see the conflict etched across his features. "I thought you'd want that kind of future with me, Peaches. I thought we were on the same page from day one."

Despite Namjoon's willingness to talk, the remnants of fear and frustration churned within you, threatening to spill over. You took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself. Your heart raced, the urge to flee growing stronger. He reached out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly.

"I love you, baby."

Your heart pounded in your chest at his words, a tumultuous blend of emotions crashing over you. You stood up from the stool you were sitting at, calmly aiming for the door. You didn't know what you were doing with this lame attempt to flee.

"Hey—" he shouted, but you did not stop. You could feel Namjoon's gaze burning into your back as you moved toward the door, his loud steps right behind you making you speed up the process.

You couldn't stop. The need to escape overwhelmed you, propelling you forward. You flung the door open, the sharp sound echoing in the silence that followed.

"Peaches!" he shouted again, his voice rising with urgency and desperation. The door rattled on its hinges as he leaned against it, trying to process what had just happened.

"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He knew he had pushed too hard, but he couldn't help it.

You trembled under him, still facing the door while his arm was outstretched, palms on the door, blocking you from opening it again. Your breath quickened as you stood there, the cool metal of the doorknob biting into your palm. You could feel Namjoon's presence behind you.

"Let me go, Namjoon," you demanded, your voice steady but wavering just slightly. The pounding of your heart felt like a war drum, urging you to flee, to escape this suffocating moment.

"You would come back to me nonetheless." You turned around to face him, your expression a blend of defiance and vulnerability.

"What makes you think I would?" you shot back, turning slightly to glance over your shoulder at him. The intensity in his eyes made your pulse quicken, a mixture of anger and confusion swirling within you.

"Because you love me back—" He leaned down, not giving you time to argue, and seized the chance to crash his lips down on yours for the first time.

His hands grabbed onto your hips, pulling you closer, the heat from his body seeping into yours. Your heart raced, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as his tongue danced with yours in a heated embrace.

Namjoon's fingers dug into your skin, his grip firm yet tender, as if he was trying to brand you as his own. The kiss was raw, primal, and all-consuming, leaving you both breathless and wanting more.

Namjoon's eyes locked onto yours, the fire within them burning brighter than ever before. With a low growl, he pulled you close again, his lips crashing down on yours once more as the world around you continued to spin.

As the kiss broke, Namjoon pulled away, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I'm not done being angry," you said, your voice low but unwavering. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it both thrilled and terrified you.

Namjoon's brow furrowed slightly, surprise mingling with the intensity in his gaze. "I know that," he replied, his tone shifting, becoming more serious.

"Good," you spoke right to his lips, your heart still racing from the kiss. The mix of confusion and desire swirled within you, and you struggled to keep your composure.

The cognac brown couch was very comfortable, its soft cushions inviting you to sink in and relax. A glass coffee table with sleek chrome legs stood in front of it, its surface adorned with a stack of art books, a few scattered magazines, and a vintage crystal ashtray. So Namjoon.

A large, floor-to-ceiling window occupied one side of the room, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. A Persian rug, with intricate patterns in deep reds and blues, covered the polished hardwood floor, adding a touch of warmth and history to the contemporary space. Again, so Namjoon.

He was crouched down by the fireplace that dominated the place, his back to you. The fire cast a warm, flickering glow across the room, its light dancing over Namjoon's broad shoulders. He started the fire because he saw you shivering. But that had nothing to do with you being cold, and deep down he knew that too. He seemed lost in thought, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the floor as he stared into the flames.

You walked over to him, your footsteps silent on the plush rug. As you approached, Namjoon turned slightly, his eyes meeting yours. You sat down next to him.

"So, how do you imagine all this working?" you asked, your voice gentle yet tinged with the underlying frustration you felt.

Namjoon sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. "Just like it did till now."

You frowned slightly, shaking your head.

"So I'm gonna go back to working in Anubis and you are going to keep shooting everyone who gets closer to me?!" you said, a bit harsher than you intended. Namjoon's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration.

"You are not coming back to work in Anubis, let's start with that," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

"My oh my, now you want to take the source of my income too." Namjoon shifted slightly, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. There was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes.

"You're my woman, Peaches. You don't need to work for money anymore," he started, his voice steady and filled with conviction.

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "You can't be serious."

"Women in our clan don't work for decades, my woman is not gonna work either. At least not like that—" You narrowed your eyes, feeling a mixture of disbelief and intrigue at his declaration.

"That's not who I am, Namjoon." He leaned in closer, the firelight casting a warm glow over his chiseled features.

"Baby, I'm not asking you. I'm offering you the life you always deserved." He sighed, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face.

"I've always been able to take care of myself."

“So now let me take care of you, sweetling.”

Your mind raced as you considered his words. The allure of a life without the constant threat of violence, without the stress of making ends meet, was tempting. But was it worth giving up your autonomy?

“You can still pursue your passions. I’m not taking that away from you,—” Namjoon paused, his expression softening.

“But no Anubis,” he took your hands into his.

“What do you want?” You asked quietly. He held your gaze, the firelight flickering across his face, illuminating the resolve etched in his features.

“I think I made my intentions strictly clear today.” He chuckled and exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’m not just talking about safety and comfort, Peaches. I’m talking about us. About building a life together.”

You searched his eyes for any sign of insincerity, but all you found was determination.

“You want me to be your… what, exactly?” You knew, you just still didn’t want to believe it.

Namjoon leaned back slightly, still holding your hands, his thumb brushing against your skin in a soothing rhythm. “I want you to be mine—”

“Mind and body, heart and soul.” Namjoon's voice was low and earnest, each word weighted with sincerity.

You swallowed hard, trying to process the depth of what he was asking. “You mean… you want me to commit completely? To be yours in every sense?”

“And I’ll be yours.” He nodded, his eyes unwavering, filled with a mixture of affection and intensity. You felt a rush of emotions—a blend of excitement and fear.

“I can give you a life where you don’t have to look over your shoulder, where you can focus on what truly matters to you—your dreams, your passions, us.”

The promise of safety and love hung heavy in the air between you, and while the thought was tempting, a part of you still clung to your independence. It would be nice not to work long night hours in a bar full of drunk people to make ends meet. Not walking home with keys in your hand in case someone would jump you over or worse. Not living in a small old rusty apartment with your father who barely brought any income home.

The fire crackled softly, and you could feel the warmth radiating from it, mirroring the warmth blooming in your chest.

“I need time.” Namjoon’s expression shifted, his jaw tightening slightly as he processed your words. But he didn’t let go of your hands. Instead, he brought them to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his gaze unwavering.

“Time,” he echoed, the word almost foreign as it left his mouth. “You already had plenty of time.” The firelight cast shadows across his face, emphasizing the intensity etched into every line.

“You think time will change how you feel? Or how much I want you?” You felt a tremor run through you at the weight of his words. It was suffocating and yet strangely comforting, like a trap laced with silk, binding you softly but securely.

“No, Namjoon, I’m just—” Namjoon’s fingers brushed along your jawline, tipping your face up so that you met his gaze directly.

“I get that this must be overwhelming for you, but the time you are asking for is already up and done—”

“I didn’t know it was ticking,” you began, voice barely more than a whisper. Namjoon tilted his head, studying you, his lips quirking into a small, almost understanding smile.

“No more hidden exits, no more plans to escape. I want you here, with me, committed… without looking for a way out. And in return, I’ll take care of you and your father. That’s my promise to you.”

The warmth in his eyes almost made you believe that he meant well, that beneath the possessive intensity was a genuine desire to protect and love. Yet a lingering voice inside you warned that this love would be an all-consuming fire—one that would consume every part of you until there was nothing left to call your own.

Your mind was racing for the answer. If you say yes, you may as well forget who you were, but perhaps you will find yourself where you always wanted to be. Someone. But what if you say no?

“What if I won’t agree, Namjoon?” You asked, scared for the answer. Namjoon’s gaze darkened, the softness slipping away as his grip tightened just enough for you to feel the control he had over the situation. He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Peaches, let's not pretend that you really have a choice here." His tone was calm, as if explaining something simple, obvious, like the inevitability of night following day.

"Your father," he began slowly, each word dripping with calculated weight, "he's in no position to take care of himself, is he? Without you, what would he do? You've been carrying his burden for years, haven't you? Always working to support him, protecting him, making sure he's safe…"

His voice lowered, softening almost to a whisper, but it was filled with a quiet menace. "But if you refuse me… well, who do you think is going to keep him safe then?"

You felt your heart hammer in your chest, dread creeping into every corner of your mind as you took in his words. This was the second time he was threatening your father.

"What is wrong with you?" You said coldly, staring daggers at his pretty face.

"What's wrong with me?" he echoed, voice laced with a faint, mocking laugh. "I'm doing what needs to be done, Peaches. I'm making sure you understand the lengths I'm willing to go to keep you by my side. You think I'd just stand by and watch you slip away? Again?"

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch featherlight but loaded with a silent threat. "I know you love your father," he murmured, voice a dangerous purr. "And that's why I'm reminding you of what's at stake."

You felt anger and fear twist inside you. He let his hand fall, watching your reaction with unsettling calmness, as if daring you to resist. Namjoon had you cornered, and he knew it. Every ounce of control you'd thought you held slipped further from your grasp, his quiet threats carving invisible chains around you.

"Why would you put me in this position?" He sighed, his lips curving into a faint, almost pitying smile as he tilted his head, studying you.

"Because I've been loving you for years, and when I can finally have you, you are trying toplay feminist."

The words hit you like a slap, raw and stinging. You swallowed, unable to look away from the intensity in his eyes. That faint smile on his lips held no warmth; it was twisted with something darker, something possessive.

"Play feminist?" you echoed, your voice wavering with anger and disbelief. "Namjoon, wanting to make my own choices doesn't mean I'm defying you or 'playing' anything. It means I'm a person, with my own will—"

He cut you off, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he shook his head slowly, almost as if you'd amused him.

“Peaches, you still don’t understand, do you? I’m offering you a world where you’re safe, where you don’t have to fight every day to survive. You’d rather keep struggling, keep pretending you’re content living in that cramped one bedroom apartment while your father brings home beer money when you are fighting off every hardship, and here I am, ready to give you the life you deserve.”

His fingers gripped your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze as he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper but laced with conviction.

“You think you want freedom, independence. But freedom isn’t safe, Peaches. Freedom won’t love you like I do. It won’t sacrifice or protect. It won’t give you everything at the cost of its own soul.”

He released you, letting his hand fall away, his gaze darkening. “This isn’t some game, and it isn’t about principles. It’s about us. And if that means you have to surrender some of that so-called independence, then so be it. I know what’s best for you, Peaches. You just need to stop fighting and see that.”

Namjoon’s gaze shifted to something darker, more resolute, as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. The firelight glinted off the soft pink morganite stone, antique piece that must have been in his kin for decades, its delicate beauty a stark contrast to the intensity in his eyes. He held it up, his jaw set, the unspoken command clear in the way he presented it to you.

“Peaches,” he murmured, his voice dangerously calm, “will you marry me?”

Before you could even think to pull away, he took your hand firmly, holding it in place as he slid the ring onto your finger. It was cold against your skin, the weight of it foreign and heavy.

“Say yes.” His voice was low, steady, a dangerous edge lurking beneath the calm exterior. His eyes bore into yours, unwavering, challenging you to defy him. “Say it, Peaches. Agree to be mine, completely, or I’ll make sure you lose everything you’ve been holding onto.”

You felt trapped, his hand tightening around yours as if to remind you of his control over the situation. Your heart raced, your throat dry, as the words hovered on the edge of your lips, unable to escape. But he didn’t let go, his fingers pressing into your skin with an unyielding determination.

“Say it,” he repeated, his voice firmer this time, the softness slipping into something harder, more commanding.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a feeling of resignation sinking deep into your chest as you stared at the ring, its delicate beauty now a symbol of your surrender.

“Yes,” you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips.

A smile spread across Namjoon’s face, slow and triumphant, as he released your hand, the weight of the ring now settling fully onto your finger. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped free, his touch gentle yet possessive.

“There,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with satisfaction.

“That’s my good girl.”

"Where's my bag?" you start sharply the moment Namjoon walks in, shrugging off the coat from his so-called 'business meeting.' You were obviously not allowed to sit in because women here do not work once they have a ring on their finger. Not like you are dying to be a part of a criminal syndicate that has its roots deeply set in this society. The air between you two is thick, a palpable tension that crackles like static before a storm.

"I looked everywhere, but I cannot seem to find it—"

Successful distilleries may be carrying the Jung name, yet other family members have their own shares of the money capital of the clan, Namjoon not being an exception. His name is presented on each brandy bottle you have had the chance to pour from. But what actually lies under the façade of crystal-clear bottles of whiskey and brandy remains unknown to the upper world.

When you met Namjoon, you didn't see a crime lord. You saw a man with ambition, with a drive that matched yours. But somewhere along the line, his ambition became chains around your wrists, tying you to a life you never chose. That's when you decided that working in Anubis would be only a "college" solution before you would leave the city.

He raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of surprise and annoyance. "What bag?"

"You know exactly which bag," you snap, stepping closer. Namjoon's eyes darken, his jaw tightening.

"How about we start on lunch?" he suggests, trying to ignore your pleas.

"No," you insist, voice trembling with anger. "I want my bag. I want my money."

"I thought we had settled this last night, didn't we?" he says, his voice low and dangerous.

Your blood boils at his dismissive tone. "Settled? You think you can just placate me and everything will be fine? That money is mine, Namjoon. I earned it."

He steps closer, his presence intimidating but you hold your ground. "Peaches, you ought to be my wife, what's mine is yours. You don't need that money."

You stand firm, not backing down. "Need it or not, it's mine. I worked for it, Namjoon."

Namjoon's eyes narrow, a dangerous glint in them. "You think you can just walk out with that money? You think you can use it to just leave?"

"No, I—" Namjoon steps forward, his eyes cold and calculating. You feel a surge of anger, your hands clenching into fists. "I earned that money, and I deserve to use it as I see fit."

"If you want to spend money, we can go shopping—" His presence overwhelming and oppressive. His words angering you even more.

"SHOPPING?! Are you fucking serious? This isn't about buying things, Namjoon. This is about my life, my choices."

Before you can continue your rambling, he grabs your wrist and pulls you close, his grip like iron. His lips crash onto yours in a bruising, dominating kiss, meant to remind you of his power over you. You struggle, but his hold is unyielding, leaving you breathless and dizzy.

"If you're gonna drop that honorific one more time—" Namjoon's eyes blaze with fury as he keeps you close, his grip almost painful.

"I won't—" you spit out, defiance still burning in your eyes despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "If you give me my money back. I have a right to it." Namjoon laughs coldly, shaking his head.

"Let's just have lunch, Peaches, before I lose my patience completely—" he says, his voice dripping with condescension. You glare at him, refusing to back down.

"Not until you give me my money back." His expression hardens, the cold amusement vanishing.

"You really want to push this, don't you?"

"Yes," you say, your voice unwavering. "Favor for favor, isn't it the mantra y'all go by?" A smirk playing on his lips when you finish the sentence.

"Everything you need, I provide." You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

"I worked for that money, Namjoon. I deserve to have control over it."

He steps closer again, his eyes dancing with amusement as he looks down at you. "Control? You want control? Fine," he says, his voice dripping with condescension.

"I've deposited them into an account I opened in your name, joint with mine, naturally," he says, his words carrying that same cool, possessive edge.

"What?" you gasp, your disbelief palpable. "You what?"

"I will give you your black card," he repeats, his lips curling into a taunting smile "—once you prove not to be a flight risk, baby." Namjoon tilts his head, the smirk never fading. This, in essence, means that every single transaction will be noticed. You will withdraw the money from the card—he will know. You will attempt to transfer them to a different account? He will fucking know. The implications hitting you like a gut punch. Your blood runs cold as his words sink in.

"I'm not stupid, Peaches. I know that we gotta work on our relationship." He steps even closer, his gaze intense, pinning you in place. "Let's work on that trust first, and then you can have money at your disposal."

Your heart beats in your throat, the frustration boiling beneath the surface. Trust? The word feels like a cruel joke coming from him.Trust?

"I'm not one of your assets, Namjoon," you spit out, your voice thick with defiance. "And I won't be treated like one." His towering form casting a shadow over you, and for a moment, his eyes soften, as if he's pitying you.

"You don't have a choice, baby." His tone shifts again, dripping with that same chilling calm.

"When you prove you can stay and play nice, then maybe, just maybe, I'll let you have some freedom with your own damn money." And just like that, he's already begun dictating the terms of your life again, his grip on you tighter than ever before.

The missing duffle bag with your money was among the least of your worries when you realized what else the duffle bag possessed.

"You have my passport, Namjoon, how can I run away?" Namjoon's eyes flicker, the amusement fading slightly, but his smirk doesn't falter. He's been expecting this—he always expects everything.

Namjoon's smile is slow, deliberate, almost cruel. "I've taken what I need to keep you close." Namjoon leans in, his breath warm against your ear, his voice low and dangerous.

"But I am not underestimating your spirit."

You're nauseous, the implication of his words settling over you like a weight you can't shake off. He is holding the strings to everything, but that only made you realize that you had a hell of a lot of thinking and plotting to do to get out of here. And the most intrusive thought back in your head, where you consider staying here and embracing this finally official relationship, has to go—quickly.

"So, what now?" you ask, voice trembling despite your best effort to keep it steady. "You plan on keeping me locked up forever, Namjoon-oppa?" Namjoon only smiles, cold and confident.

"No baby. But I will keep you very close, until I can trust you." Your skin prickles where his fingers brush, but you don't pull away. You can't. The need to stay composed, to not give him the satisfaction of seeing you break, fights against the rising tide of rage and fear in your chest.

"And what do you want me to do to earn it, Namjoon?" you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside you. "Beg? Crawl? Pretend everything is fine when it's not?" He tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he's piecing together in real time. The silence that follows is thick with tension. He stands so close now that you can feel the heat of his body against yours.

"So, lunch it is then?"

His tone is mockingly light, but there's a sharp edge beneath it when he tries to abandon the conversation, the kind that makes you feel trapped.

The black Mercedes hums smoothly along the Bronx streets, its sleek exterior reflecting the gray clouds above. It's going to snow any day now. Inside, the air is thick with tension, an unspoken understanding between the two passengers.

You sit in the backseat, your fingers nervously gripping the edge of your dress, the smooth fabric barely registering under your touch. Your sunglasses hide the unease in your eyes, but the tightness in your chest is something you can't disguise.

Today feels different.

Namjoon sits beside you in the backseat, his gaze fixed ahead, while his hand is warm on your thigh. You are staring at your shoes. Isn't this what you wanted? To ride in an expensive car, wearing Saint Laurent pointy-toed heels? A form-fitting dress with a high neck reveals your figure subtly, and the hungry look Namjoon gave you when you stepped out of the wardrobe did not go unnoticed. Something feels different, as if you're playing dress-up. The allure of the life Namjoon offers, it all feels strangely distant.

You eye him carefully—his black turtleneck is tailored to fit perfectly, sleek and minimalistic. Over it, a black suit jacket, structured but not overly stiff, gives him a commanding presence. His black slacks match the simplicity and power of his look, polished and clean.

The cold air bites against your skin, and you instinctively pull your coat tighter around your shoulders, trying to shield yourself from the chill that seems to creep through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Thank you for letting me see my father," you whisper, your voice barely audible, yet heavy with meaning.

"You don't have to thank me—" he says quietly, his voice low, almost intimate. His gaze doesn't soften, but there's something in the way he stands, commanding yet calm, that makes your heart race. The chill of the early morning seems to deepen, pressing in on you, yet you're acutely aware of the warmth of his presence, the heat of his body just a little too close.

"I couldn't have kept you from seeing him," Namjoon continues, his tone flat, as if he's simply stating a fact.

"But keep in mind that this is a privilege—you misbehave, you won't see him." His eyes lock with yours, not with malice, but with a cold certainty that makes your heart flutter uncomfortably in your chest. The last thing you want now is to provoke him further, to find out just how far his power reaches.

"Engaged?!" disbelief and shock etched into the features of your father when you sat down at the kitchen table after you collected some of the things you wished to take with you. You nod, your heart racing.

"Yes, Dad. It just happened. I wanted you to know first." Your father's gaze shifts to Namjoon, his face a storm of emotions—anger, disbelief, worry.

"Peaches, do you know what you're doing? This man is nearly a decade older than you," he whispers your way, his voice trembling with concern.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "It's not that big, Dad. I know it's a lot to take in, but Namjoon and I—we're serious about this." You never knew how good you were at lying until today. Your father's eyes narrow, his gaze flicking between you and Namjoon.

"When did this relationship even happen? Is he holding you against your will?!" he demands, his tone a mix of frustration and disbelief. Your smile freezes for a moment, and you try your best not to give yourself away.

"No, Dad, that happens only in movies," you reply, attempting a light-hearted tone to deflect his suspicion. Maybe this is what Namjoon meant by earning trust.

Your father's gaze remains hard, but he doesn't push further. Instead, he turns to Namjoon, his voice cold and edged with protectiveness. "You better take care of her, Namjoon. If anything happens to her, I won't forgive you."

Namjoon smiles proudly at you, almost missing your father's harsh words. His confidence in you seems unshaken.

"You have my word," he replies simply, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, staring at the shiny peachy morganite.

You were never religious enough to step foot in a church after you were christened as a baby. Your parents were indifferent to faith, more focused on the struggles of daily life than spiritual obligations. But your now husband-to-be came from very religious kin, and he himself was a God's worshipper. Ironic enough when he managed to break the Ten Commandments before sipping his morning coffee.

His family, deeply rooted in tradition and devout faith, expected nothing less than a grand celebration steeped in religious customs. The thought of walking down an aisle, flanked by stained glass and the scent of incense, felt foreign and overwhelming.

The morning sun poured into the grand church, illuminating the ornate stained glass that depicted scenes of devotion and reverence. As you and Namjoon stepped through the heavy wooden doors, a wave of warmth enveloped you, mingling with the scent of polished wood and candle wax. It felt like stepping into another world, one where faith and family intertwined seamlessly.

You could see familiar faces sitting on the wooden benches. Kim Taehyung smirking your way when he glanced at your hand interlocked with Namjoon's. He was sitting next to Mr. Jung, whom you recognized by his mullet, and the next seat was occupied by the one and only Mrs. Jung, whom you hadn't seen for a good amount of time. There were also some faces that you did not recognize, yet they still felt familiar to you. You couldn't help but notice the way the Kims and Jungs interacted, the warmth of their bonds evident in the way they smiled, laughed, and shared stories during the prayers. Their camaraderie was infectious, and for a fleeting moment, you found yourself longing for that sense of belonging.

As the service began, the congregation settled into a peaceful quiet, the sounds of rustling papers and shifting bodies fading into the background. The priest took his place at the altar, his voice echoing through the high ceilings as he began to speak about love, commitment, and the sacred bonds of marriage. Each word resonated deeply within you, pulling at your heartstrings as you thought of your impending union. As it was explained to you, this Mass was held as the announcement of your engagement—one of many traditions they had.

Namjoon sat beside you, his presence a constant reminder of the promise you had made. You could feel his gaze on you, intense and unwavering, as if he were silently urging you to embrace this new chapter of your life. But the weight of that ring on your finger felt heavier than ever in this moment.

"Love is not merely a feeling; it's a choice," the priest's voice boomed, and you glanced at Namjoon, catching the flicker of expectation in his eyes. "It's a daily commitment to one another, a promise to uphold each other through trials and triumphs alike."

You shifted in your seat, feeling the heat of his gaze on you like a physical presence. You wondered if love really was a choice—or if, in your case, it was a bargain made under duress. Namjoon's grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, a subtle reminder of the hold he had over your life.

This was the first time he took you out of the penthouse since the day you woke up in his bed for the first time. He simply did not trust you enough to go out in public with you just yet. Hence, his hand remained on yours in a very obsessive manner, as if you were to fly away at any moment.

The priest continued, "Marriage is a sacred bond, one that should be approached with reverence and care. It's not merely about sharing a life together but about supporting and uplifting one another, about being the anchor when the storms come." He paused, letting his words sink in.

Your mind wandered back to your father, the struggles he faced, and how Namjoon had used that vulnerability to secure your loyalty. The contrast between the priest's idealistic views on love and your reality felt stark. How could you ever find true happiness in a union that felt more like a transaction than a partnership? You were feeling heavy.

"And today," the priest announced, raising his voice slightly to draw everyone's attention, "we gather not only to worship but to celebrate the union of two souls destined to walk together."

Your breath caught in your throat, and a mix of emotions surged through you. Murmurs of congratulations rippled through the congregation, and you felt the weight of countless eyes on you, some filled with excitement, others with curiosity. Namjoon's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes gleaming with pride.

You could feel your cheeks flush as the reality of your situation sank in deeper. The ring on your finger felt like a shackle, the promises made a binding contract that left little room for your own desires.

"I—" you started, but the words felt stuck in your throat. "I need to go to the restroom, Namjoon."

His expression shifted, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Now?" he asked, voice low enough that only you could hear, but firm enough to convey his displeasure. "We're in the middle of the service."

Namjoon hesitated, weighing your request against the backdrop of the ceremony. Finally, he released your hand but leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Make it quick, baby."

You nodded, grateful for the small bit of freedom. Your Louboutin heels clicked against the marble floor, each step echoing like a drumbeat in the otherwise quiet sanctuary. The sound felt amplified in your ears, a reminder of the attention you were drawing as you navigated through the rows of wooden pews. You could feel the weight of curious gazes following you, some filled with anticipation, others with judgment. It was as if the congregation sensed the tension between you and Namjoon, the unspoken power dynamics playing out in real time.

You pushed open the restroom door and stepped inside. The fluorescent lights cast a stark glare, highlighting the contrast between the serenity of the service and the storm swirling within you.

Leaning against the sink, you took a moment to catch your breath. The reflection staring back at you was a mixture of uncertainty and defiance, a girl caught between two worlds.

"Why am I still here?" you whispered to your reflection, the question echoing back at you. You thought of the life you had envisioned for yourself, one filled with love, laughter, and independence, not one governed by fear and obligation.

"I fucked up." After a few deep breaths, you steadied yourself. You needed to return before he would throw a tantrum, as he loved to do whenever you were away from him for longer than ten minutes. Paranoid bastard. You glanced at your watch and noted that only a few minutes had passed. With a resigned sigh, you turned to leave, determination flooding your veins.

As you exited the restroom, you found Namjoon leaning against the wall outside, arms crossed and an expression that mixed concern and annoyance. His posture was protective, yet the underlying tension in his demeanor sent a shiver down your spine. He pushed himself from the wall only to walk towards you, making you take a few steps back into the restroom. His eyes never left yours even when he closed the door and locked it from inside, the sound echoing ominously in the small space.

The reality of your situation pressed down on you, an oppressive weight that made it hard to breathe. He moved closer, his eyes dark and intent.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he replied when you asked him why he wasn't upstairs, his tone both soothing and authoritative.

"You know how important this day is, right? I can't have you slipping away from me."

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. "I'm fine. I just needed a moment," you insisted, but the way he watched you made it clear he wasn't convinced.

"You can be honest, Peaches," he said, his voice dropping to a lower, more serious tone. "You're in a room full of people celebrating our engagement, and yet you're out here trying to escape."

His words struck a nerve, and you crossed your arms defensively. "I'm not trying to escape," you shot back, though the lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

"Okay," he said calmly, staring intensely into your eyes, as if he was trying to read you. A small smirk played at the corners of his lips, but the tension in the air remained thick. You did not expect him to drop the topic that quickly.

"I just needed to collect my thoughts," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Okay," he murmured again. He stepped closer, closing the distance between you even more, his body radiating warmth that both comforted and unsettled you. He was standing there, inches away from you, yet he was not taking any action.

"W-why are you so calm, what are you doing, Namjoon?" you asked, trying to grasp his demeanor which you yet again did not understand.

"Waiting—"

"Can we just go back to the ceremony?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. Namjoon's smirk widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"Not yet, my love," he whispered back, his voice low and husky. Namjoon's fingers traced the curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "I longed to show you just who you belong to for years."

"You're fucking stunning, Peaches," he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe. Namjoon's fingers trailed down your chest, stopping just above your breasts. You felt a jolt of electricity run through your body, and you knew that you were in trouble.

"Namjoon," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "We can't do this here, we're in a church." You tried to push him away.

"You are something I can sin for," he whispered back, his voice low and seductive. You tried to pull away, but Namjoon held you firm, his grip unyielding.

"Namjoon, please," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire and apprehension.

But Namjoon was relentless, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that left you quivering with pleasure. "You're mine, Peaches," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck.

"And I'll do whatever it takes to keep it that way."

Namjoon's lips found yours, and he kissed you with a passion that left you breathless. His tongue danced with yours, and you felt your body respond to his every touch. As you kissed, Namjoon's hand slid between your legs, and he began to caress you through your dress. You gasped softly, your body arching into his touch, trembling with the sudden pleasure.

"Namjoon," you whispered urgently, "we have to stop." Your breath hitched as he pressed you against the mirror after he lifted you onto the counter, plunging himself between your legs.

"No, we don't," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Not until I've claimed you as mine."

The church's silence seemed to amplify the intensity of the moment, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge of a cliff. His fingers traced the contours of your body, exploring every curve and crevice.

"What if someone hears?" you breathed again, desperation lacing your voice.

His lips paused just above your collarbone, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. As if the universe was playing by his rules, the choir started to sing. He chuckled.

"You're mine, Peaches. I won't let anyone take you away from me—not today, not ever." He captured your lips again, his kiss deepening with a fervor that ignited every nerve ending in your body.

His hands were exploring the curves of your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress higher as he pressed you firmly against the cold surface of the counter.

"Namjoon," you breathed, a mix of excitement and fear knotting in your stomach. "We can't…" you continued your protests.

"But we will." His fingers danced dangerously close to your most sensitive spots, teasing you with the promise of pleasure. You felt your resolve begin to crumble under his touch.

"I've waited too long for this," he murmured, voice a velvet whisper that wrapped around you like a lover's embrace.

"Namjoon," you gasped against his lips, torn between the heady rush of desire and the urgent need to pull back. But with each kiss, each exploration of his hands, your inhibitions began to melt away, surrendering to the intoxicating pull he had over you.

"Just let go," he urged, a soft growl escaping his lips as he pressed his body into yours, making you acutely aware of the hard length that pressed against your core.

"Trust me."

A wild, reckless part of you craved this intimacy, this connection that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. Your mind took you back to all those moments you shared that made your heart flutter and belly tight when you did not know why he made you feel that way.

You hesitated for a heartbeat, the weight of your reality pressing heavily on your conscience. His fingers found their way beneath your dress, inching higher until they brushed against your most sensitive skin. You gasped, arching your back involuntarily as pleasure surged through you, igniting a fire in your belly.

"Namjoon!" you cried out, a mixture of pleasure and panic lacing your voice.

"Shh, baby," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck as he continued his teasing exploration. With a deft motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, sliding them down your legs and tossing them aside as if they were nothing more than an afterthought. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, heightening your senses and making your breath hitch in your throat.

The air in the restroom felt thick with anticipation, each breath you took mingling with the scent of sandalwood and the faint musk of his skin.

“You’re breath-taking,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with desire.

His fingertips traced closer to where you needed him most, teasing you with the lightest of touches. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan that threatened to escape, the heat pooling deep within you almost overwhelming.

“Namjoon…” you whispered, half warning, half plea, torn between your desire for him and the reality of your surroundings.

“—and so wet for me.” He breathed against your skin, his breath sending sparks dancing along your nerves. His tongue danced with yours, a heated exploration that deepened your need for him. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you and the intoxicating chemistry that crackled between your bodies.

His fingers pressed against you, expertly coaxing soft moans from your lips as he slid one finger inside, filling you completely. You bit down on your lip to stifle your cries, but the pleasure was overwhelming, radiating out from the point of contact and pooling low in your stomach.

His eyes sparkled with a predatory intensity, relishing in your reaction. He watched you as if he were savouring a fine wine, taking his time to appreciate every detail of your response.

“Namjoon,” you gasped, your voice a fragile whisper, barely able to maintain any semblance of restraint.

“Oppa.” He growled. The way he said it—deep, possessive—made your heart race faster, each beat echoing in the stillness of the restroom. Namjoon’s fingers moved with a deliberate rhythm, curling inside you in a way that sent your mind spiralling.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he commanded, his tone a mix of sultry and demanding, eyes never leaving yours as he watched you unravel under his touch.

You hesitated for a moment, your breath coming in quick gasps as pleasure washed over you. “It feels… amazing,” you managed to whisper, the confession slipping past your lips like a sweet secret. You can regret this later.

“Good,” he murmured, the smirk on his face growing wider. “I want to hear every sound you make.”

His fingers moved faster, building the tension to a near unbearable level, each thrust sending you closer to the brink. The world around you faded completely, leaving just the two of you entwined in this stolen moment of passion, lost in the depths of one another.

“Namjoon. I can’t—” his hand smacked your ass and he deliberately slowed down.

“It’s oppa for you. Don’t make me repeat it again.”

The playful sting of his hand against your skin sent a rush of warmth coursing through you, mingling with the heat pooling low in your belly. His voice was firm, but beneath that authority was a hint of something deeper—a promise that ignited a wild excitement within you.

“Oppa,” you whispered breathlessly, the word slipping from your lips like a spell meant just for him.

He smiled, satisfied, and resumed his movements, fingers working expertly inside you again. The pressure built anew, the delightful tension sending electric shocks through your body.

“Good girl,” he praised, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to hear you, Peaches. Let me know how much you need me.”

With that, he quickened his pace, thrusting his fingers deeper, curling them just right. The overwhelming pleasure began to blur the edges of your consciousness, leaving only the sensations that centred on where he was buried within you. The heat intensified, building towards a sweet, dizzying peak, and you couldn’t help but surrender to it.

With a final flick of his fingers, he found that sweet spot inside you, driving you wild. Your body responded in kind, the sensations intertwining with your every thought. You could feel the tightening in your core, the unmistakable signal that you were teetering on the edge of bliss.

“Namjoon-oppa, I—” you gasped, words failing you as the pleasure escalated.

“Shh, just let it happen,” he murmured, his voice deep and soothing, anchoring you in the moment. His lips met yours in a heated kiss, swallowing your cries as the waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

"Oppa!" you cried against his mouth, unable to contain the raw need bursting forth from within. Your body trembled, the climax washing over you in a torrent of sensations, enveloping you completely as you surrendered to the bliss. The choir's distant hymns created an almost surreal backdrop to this heated encounter, mixing innocence with your burgeoning desire.

As the pleasure receded, leaving you breathless and dazed, Namjoon held you close, his arms encircling you like a protective cocoon. You leaned into him, heart racing and body tingling, reveling in the aftershocks of your release.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" he teased, his voice low and playful, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. "To be mine."

Your blurry eyes lifted to look at him, taking him in while you were still panting from the rollercoaster of emotions he made you feel. Flickering down to his bulge covered by the fabric of his black suit pants from Ralph Lauren, your breath hitched again. Enough for him to move his hands to his belt, being absolutely ready to take you. Finally free of his belt, he pulled down his zipper. The fabric of his pants fell open, revealing the outline of his desire, bold and unmistakable.

The urgency of the moment wrapped around you like a tight embrace, making it hard to think straight. You glanced around, the restroom feeling impossibly small, every sound amplified.

"Oppa, please…" you breathed, your heart racing as you tried to pull away, but the undeniable hunger in his gaze anchored you in place. You could see the determination etched on his face, the way his jaw tightened with lust. He had a plan, and it made your pulse quicken. You were not sure what you were begging for—to stop or to continue?

If not for the soft knock on the door, he would have taken you right there, on the church's restroom counter. It jolted you both, pulling you back to the reality of your surroundings. A rush of panic surged through you, and you instinctively glanced around the cramped restroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Oppa," you whispered again, this time a plea laced with desire and uncertainty.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Just a little longer," he promised, his fingers finding their way back to your thighs, gripping you tightly as if to keep you anchored to the moment.

"Just one more time," he urged, his voice thick with need. "I need to feel you—"

"Hyung, I know you will kill me for this, but you need to come back upstairs." The voice—familiar and insistent—cut through the haze of desire that had enveloped you both.

Namjoon's expression flickered from lust to annoyance, his grip on you tightening slightly as if to remind you that this moment was still theirs, even if the world outside was intruding.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his frustration palpable. The intensity in his gaze shifted, but it didn't fade. Instead, it turned into something more predatory, a simmering heat that promised this wasn't over.

"We'll be right there!" He shouted back to the voice behind the door. His eyes slowly returned to watch you and your disheveled form after he fingered the fuck out of you.

He leaned in, his lips capturing yours once more, and it felt like time stood still. The world around you blurred, and for that moment, it was just the two of you—lost in a whirlwind of passion that defied the reality waiting outside the door.

His forehead remained pressed on yours when he whispered to your lips. “Next time, we won’t be so rushed, I promise.” Pecking your lips, he quickly pulled his pants back up, securing his belt with a swift motion, yet the heat of the moment lingered between you both.

The calm shattered in an instant.

The heavy church door burst open with a deafening crash. Armed men in tactical gear stormed in with raised weapons, their shouts filling the air. Namjoon immediately pushed you behind him, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene with deadly focus.

The thunderous crack of gunfire echoed off the stone walls as the air filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder. Namjoon drew a gun from beneath his jacket—like several other family men in attendance—his movements swift and practiced. He returned fire, the muzzle flash illuminating his determined face in bursts of light.

Your heart pounded in your chest like a drum of terror and adrenaline. Huddled behind an overturned pew, you clutched your ears against the deafening noise, eyes wide with shock and fear. Namjoon, breathing heavily, scanned the room one final time before turning to you, his eyes softening for a moment.

"Stay down!" he shouted, his voice barely audible above the chaos.

"Jungkook, get them out!" Namjoon barked, his eyes fixed on the fight.

He reached your side, pulling you up by the arm. Jungkook's grip was firm yet reassuring.

"Come on," he urged, his voice a steady anchor amid the storm of violence. He led you through the chaos, his body shielding you from the worst of the gunfire.

Just as you neared the side door, a sharp pain exploded in your side. You stumbled, a cry of agony escaping your lips. The world seemed to slow, the sounds of battle muffled by the roaring in your ears. Looking down, you saw blood spreading across your dress, the pain intensifying with each heartbeat.

"Peaches!"

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𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: @hecateslittlewitchling - @ratprincessnr1 - @originalbiscuitfiredreamer - @mggv97 - @urlovelily - @ilys00ga - @beautifulcloudfestival - @herareila @mar-lo-pap

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

see you next time, love, p.

[chaoticpuff17]

When the Chips are Down

part 27

masterlist

Y/N couldn’t say that she was a big fan of weddings. She hadn’t been too a large number of them, but even counting her own horrible day, this was the worst wedding she had ever been to.

Iyla, for her part, took the ordeal like a champion. She marched down the aisle on Namjoon’s arm with all the grace of a queen and all the wrath broiling within both of them shining in her eyes. While Y/N had spent her own wedding in a haze, Iyla seemed all too aware of what was happening to her. She completed each part of the ceremony with contempt. Each time she was asked to do something, she would pause for an uncomfortably long moment before she would comply, a stubborn tilt to her head and a mocking glint in her eye as though she was daring Hoseok to do something.

Unlike her sister, Iyla still held the belief that there was an escape from the hellscape they had found themselves in. She hadn’t yet been beaten into submission with the knowledge that there was no leaving. Anything that Namjoon and his brothers wanted, they got. This applied to all areas of their lives both in business and in personal matters. Their chosen mates got very little say in any of it, and weddings, from what Y/N could tell, were simply an announcement to the world that they had gotten their way. They were a public claim on their partners, not that any of the boys needed a public claim. Simply the whisper of one of the big bosses having taken a partner would give the woman in question a certain level of respect and protection. No one in the organization wanted to upset the higher ups by disrespecting their wives.

The wedding made things official though. It was a legal binding that many of the boys seemed to crave. You could always leave a partner if the relationship was bad. Marriages were harder to end though. Even if any of the girls ran and managed to stay gone there would always be a legal tie to the boys that couldn’t be undone without revealing their whereabouts. It was a catch twenty two.

The final bows were soon made, and Hoseok and Iyla were announced as a married couple to everyone assembled. It was a traditionally Korean ceremony for the most part, but the plans for a reception afterwards were much more Western in origin. While it wasn’t typical, Y/N’s working theory was that Namjoon and the boys liked to show off. A reception was an excellent way to get caught up with business associates, make connections, and generally boast to the world about their chosen wife. Namjoon had chosen to do much the same thing at their own wedding.

A pang went through her heart as she stood, ready to follow the newly weds to the reception area. Her own reception had been one of the last times that she had seen Jackson alive and well, and she’d been so blind with betrayal and hurt that she hadn’t even talked to him.

It was in these thoughts that she was caught up when the first sound of a shot was heard. She had barely even had time to register it before she was being shoved to the ground, Nara clutched tightly to her chest and Namjoon’s body hovering over the both of them as a shield.

His eyes were wild as he looked at her, scanning her and their daughter for any injuries. “Are you alright?” The words came out in a rush almost as though he was panicked, but Namjoon was so very rarely panicked. He was the leader for a reason. Situations like this weren’t meant to faze him. “Is Nara alright?”

Y/N nodded, stumbling over her words as she let him know that they were both alright. They might have been a little jostled and possibly bruised from the force with which he’d taken them all to the ground, but they were for the most part alright.

“Taehyun!” Namjoon roared, calling out for her bodyguard. “Get them out of here!”

“Wait!” Y/N looked around desperately as Namjoon helped her to her feet. “Where is Iyla? Is Iyla okay?”

“Taehyun is going to take you and Nara to safety.” Namjoon assured her, brushing the hairs away from her face that had been knocked loose when he’d taken them all to the ground. “You’re going to be just fine.”

“What about Iyla?”

He quickly pressed a kiss to forehead and did the same for Nara as well before pushing her into Taehyun’s arms. “If anything happens to them, I will gut you.” Namjoon promised, his tone low and dripping with venom.

“I’ll protect them with my life, sir.”

“What about Iyla!” she cried, as Taehyun began to drag her away, his grip unyielding on her arm as he led them out.

“Keep your head low, buin.” he ordered gently. “Cover Ms. Nara’s head as well.”

Despite her protests, Y/N kept her head low as instructed, and Nara, who was by this point screaming her poor little head off, was tucked into her chest with her head shielded. Taehyun had moved from dragging her by the arm to ushering her forward with his own body half covering hers as they moved. When Kim Namjoon had given the order to protect his family at all costs. He had meant it, even if it came at the price of bodily harm to Taehyun.

Part of Y/N was selfishly grateful for Taehyun’s protection. There were bullets flying across the venue, both from BTS and whoever had decided to crash the event. People were running in every direction, and screams filled the air as everyone tried to find cover.

Y/N tried not to look at the carnage of what had once been a beautiful venue as they went past. Her focus had to be on her baby and getting her to safety. She’d get Iyla too if she could, but she didn’t think that Taehyun would let her go searching, and her first priority had to be Nara. Nara had to get out of this mess before she could truly worry about anyone else.

It wasn’t the first shoot out she’d been in. Marcus hadn’t always been careful about where he brought her and when. Her safety had never been a primary concern for him. She’d taken precautions after that not to accompany Marcus to any parties she deemed particularly sketchy. Her second shootout had been over a year ago when she’d been running for her life in an attempt to escape the estate, her first escape attempt. They hadn’t been aiming for her though. That had been made abundantly clear. So she wasn’t a stranger to shoot outs, she’d just never been in the middle of one before.

“Where are we even going?” Y/N asked, her words coming out as more of a pant.

“To the cars, buin.” Taehyung answered, voice low and not nearly as out of breath as her own was. “Sajangnim ordered me to get you to safety. Once we get to the cars, I’ll see you and Ms. Nar-”

The first thing that Y/N registered was the stinging pain in her arm, almost like a bad carpet burn. She’d had many of those as a child when she and Iyla hadn’t been careful in their playing, and she’d tripped and gone skidding across the floor in their childhood home.

The next thing she registered was Taehyun’s voice had gone abruptly and completely silent, his sentence left unfinished. She didn’t have time to question this change as his form which had been a shelter from the maelstrom around them became a dead weight dragging her and Nara to the ground once more.

Y/N cursed under her breath, checking to see if Nara was okay before glancing over at Taehyun to check and see if he was okay and promptly wishing she hadn’t, her stomach turning.

A pool of deep red was seeping towards her with nauseating speed from the figure next to her. For the most part, he looked as though he’d just tripped much the same as she had. It was once you looked past the shoulders that the damage became apparent. There wasn’t much left of Taehyun after that point to recognize as Taehyun any more. The bullet had torn straight through his skull, destroying all of his recognizable features.

Y/N choked back a sob, scrambling back in an attempt to get away from the carnage though she quickly found herself ducking down to avoid a shot going off far too close for comfort.

Nara continued to scream in her arms, her little wails cutting through the air and making the both of them an all too obvious target for anyone who was looking to get revenge on Namjoon.

“It’s okay, baby.” she shushed, gently bouncing Nara in her arms. “Momma’s going to get us out of here.”

Y/N placed a quick kiss to the top of her baby’s head and began to crawl back over to Taehyun’s body.

He was one of Namjoon’s men. He had to have some sort of weapon on him. Y/N highly doubted that any of Namjoon’s men went anywhere unarmed, at least not foot soldiers like Taehyun had been.

With some rummaging, Y/N was able to find a gun stashed in a shoulder harness. It was a little bigger than anything that Y/N had shot before, but it would have to do given the circumstances, and Y/N wasn’t about to turn away anything that could help keep her and Nara safe. She wasn’t entirely sure how she was going to shoot and hold Nara, but she had something on hand to protect them if worse came to worse, and that made the situation marginally better.

Y/N got up, careful to keep her body as low to the ground as she could as she moved through the carnage. Keep low and move quickly, that was the only thought in her head as she picked her way out of the wedding hall. She couldn’t get to the cars. It wasn’t safe. She didn’t know who was out there and who they worked for. She didn’t know who half of Namjoon’s men were, and she didn’t doubt that the ones she did know were preoccupied with keeping their own wives safe as well as putting an end to the chaos that had ruined the wedding. If she asked for help, she was as likely to ask someone who was responsible for the chaos as she was to pick someone who worked for Namjoon. Along with those two factions were also visiting families and business acquaintances, and there was no telling who of those would help her if she asked and who would slit her throat given the opportunity. She was on her own.

Once she was out of the main hall, there was more room too maneuver and more options of where to go.

Frantically, she looked around, trying to find somewhere to go. What she needed was a place to hide, somewhere secluded and somewhere where she could hopefully form a barricade to keep others from getting in. She found her answer in the form of a supply closet tucked away from the main hall.

Briskly, Y/N made her way towards the door, keeping a careful eye on her surroundings as she did.

“Y/N!” an achingly familiar voice called causing her head to snap in the direction it had come from. Mark was rushing towards her, looking disheveled in his suit as he sprinted across the hall foyer. “Y/N, are you alright?” He rushed to ask, quickly scanning her for any injuries. “Is Nara alright?”

“What are you doing here?” She asked, out of breath as she took in the sight of him.

“We have to go.” He urged, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the exit. “They’re going to be looking for you soon.”

“How are you here?”

He smiled, the expression rakish and exasperated at the same time. “I promise to explain everything later, but we have to hurry right now.”

“Where’s Iyla? Did you get Iyla out?” She asked, scanning the room for any sign of her sister as Mark pulled her towards the exit.

“Iyla?” He questioned, brow furrowed. “I don’t have Iyla. We barely had time to get you out. This whole operation has been a mess.”

Y/N stopped dead in her tracks, his words playing through her mind. “This was you? You did this?” She asked, hoping against hope that it was a lie. “You shot at my baby sister? You shot at my baby?”

“Y/N, we don’t have time for this right now.” He tried to tug her forward again, but she wouldn’t go. “Y/N, please.”

She wanted to believe that Mark wouldn’t put Nara or Iyla in danger for some hair-brained scheme, but looking at him now, how frantic he seemed- how desperate to get her out of there, she knew that he had. “How could you?”

“Y/N, we have to go.”

Shots went off around them as she remained immobile, Mark pleading with her to keep going, to leave with him, but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t bring herself to leave with him knowing what would happen to Iyla if she left her behind. Namjoon had made the consequences very clear if she should ever try to leave him again. If she was going to escape it had to be with Iyla.

“Let go, Mark.” she ordered, shaking her arm out of his grip. “You need to leave.”

“Y/N, you can’t be serious.” Mark cursed under his breath, pushing them both to the floor as someone fired a gun in their direction. “We have to go now!”

Y/N pushed herself and Nara up from the floor, aiming the gun shakily at Mark as she did, tears pooling in her eyes.

He stared at her incredulously. “Y/N, be reasonable. We won’t get this chance again. Lee won’t agree to help me again.”

“Go.” she ordered, her voice just as tremulous as the rest of her.

“Y/N…”

“I swear to God, Mark, I will shoot you if you don’t leave.”

“You can’t stay with him.”

She shook her head, the tears starting to fall. “I can’t leave knowing what he’ll do to my sister if I do.”

“We’ll get her out another time.” He pleaded, standing up as she rose as well, Nara clutched tight to her chest, her little face red as she shook with little hiccuping sobs. “We have to go now.”

“You have to leave before he catches you.” She kept the gun trained at his chest. “He won’t let you go a second time.” Mark didn’t move. “You have jeopardized everything.” she hissed, the possibilities running rampant through her mind. Namjoon would not be kind if he found Mark here, and considering his actions, she wasn’t feeling too charitable towards him herself.

“Y/N, I’m trying to help you.”

“You shot at my daughter! You shot at my baby sister!” Her eyes scanned his features looking for a shred of remorse. She found none.

“You need to leave.” she hissed, but Mark didn’t move. “Leave!” she screamed.

He still didn’t move. Y/N lowered the gun, aiming at his foot as she fired, and Mark jumped back, letting loose a string of expletives as he did.

“I don’t want to shoot you, Mark,” she began, raising the gun to his chest once more. “but I will if I have to.”

He took a step forward, reaching for her, and Y/N was quick to aim a shot at his leg. The bullet grazed his calf, missing its mark. She was no good at aiming with only one hand, and it didn’t help that she was shaking like a leaf.

“Go!” she urged. “Go before he finds out this was you.”

Without a backwards glance at him, Y/N turned on her heel and took off into the foyer. It was almost as chaotic in entry now as the main hall had been, the fighting spilling out as people ran. her aim was to get to the supply closet she had seen earlier. It wouldn’t be much for cover, but it would be something so long as she was lucky enough to make it there without getting herself shot in the process.

With some difficulty, Y/N was able to make it to the closet. The door had mercifully been left unlocked, giving her access to the small room. It had just enough space for her to crouch on the floor with Nara half hidden behind some packages of toilet paper and paper towels. It wasn’t much, but she was more than grateful for it.

The supply closet only had one entrance for her to guard. If anyone tried to open the door, she had a direct line of sight and therefore fire to defend herself and Nara.

Hiding in the dark room did nothing to settle her frayed nerves. Every sound coming from outside her sanctuary set her on edge though Nara had thankfully settled down. As much as she loved her child, having her screaming while they were attempting to hide would have been counterproductive, and the sound would have worn on her already ragged nerves.

She didn’t know how long they stayed there crouched in the dark. It could have been hours or it could have been minutes. She had no way of telling the time, and her own anxiety made her an unreliable judge of exactly how long they’d been there, but it felt like an eternity.

Even when the noise from outside had died down, Y/N refused to leave her hiding place. She had no way of knowing who had come out on top of the chaos outside, and without that knowledge she was not willing to put herself or Nara in any more danger than necessary.

Her legs ached from her cramped position as did her arms from holding Nara for so long, but she stayed still, waiting for a sign that it was safe to leave, her mind reeling from the events of the day. Her grip remained tight on the gun she’d swiped off Taehyun’s body ready to shoot should someone try to open the door even if her hands were shaking. She’d already shot at someone today, and she didn’t particularly want to shoot at anyone else, but she would if she had to.

Part of her couldn’t believe that she’d shot at Mark. She couldn’t believe that she’d let the opportunity to escape pass her by. She could have taken Nara and ran. She could have had a shot at freedom, but she hadn’t taken it. She’d made a choice that she had never even considered as a real possibility. She’d chosen to stay with Namjoon of her own volition.

Of course there were other factors. She knew what Namjoon would do to Iyla if she’d chosen to go. She also knew that Namjoon never would have stopped searching for her if she’d managed to slip away, and that was a big if. She doubted they would have gotten very far before Namjoon would have found them. Taking their daughter and running, while it sounded nice in theory, would have unleashed an almost unholy fury within her husband. He was already slightly insane when it came to her. She could only imagine the lengths he would go to to get Nara back if she were ever to go missing and the consequences she would face if she had a hand in it.

Y/N was shaken out of her thoughts as the door to her sanctuary was ripped open. Without even thinking, she lifted the gun and fired in the direction of the entry. Nara woke with a start at the sound, starting to cry as she did.

“Fuck!” the intruder cursed, jumping back as her bullet barely missed him, embedding itself into the door frame. “Hyung!” he called, stepping away from the door and keeping an eye on her as he shouted over his shoulder. “Hyung, I found her!”

She stared at the man in the doorway, heart racing and her hands shaking so much that she was afraid she would drop the gun.

She didn’t have a chance to fire at him again as the man in the doorway was unceremoniously shoved aside to reveal a new figure.

She fired again, just barely missing him and embedding a bullet into the other side of the door frame eliciting another stream of curses from both men standing at the door.

Before she could try to steady her hand enough to fire again, the weapon was ripped from her hand and tossed out of the small space.

“No!” she screamed, kicking at the man trying to drag her and Nara out of their sanctuary.

“Jagi! Jagiya, it’s me!” her assailant cooed, wrapping a hand around her wrist to keep her blows from landing. “It’s me.” he said again, keeping his voice low and even. “You’re safe now. You’re both safe.”

Slowly Y/N began to register who was in the closet with her. “Namjoon?”

“It’s me, jagi. It’s me.” He hushed, smoothing away the mess her hair had become during the chaos of the day. “It’s me.”

Namjoon was unceremoniously knocked back as Y/N threw herself into his arms, her free arm wrapped tightly around his neck as she clung to him, sobs wracking her frame as the stress of the whole situation came crashing down on her with the reassurance that they was safe and keeping Nara from harm was no longer her responsibility alone. No one was going to hurt them. Namjoon would make sure of that.

Namjoon wrapped his arms tightly around her, careful not to crush Nara between them as he held them both.

“You’re alright, jagiya. You did so well. You’re safe now.” he murmured into her hair. “It’s all okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.” she shuddered against him, her whole body shaking as the adrenaline left her system. “Jungkook, have them bring the car around.”

“On it, hyung.” Jungkook quickly scampered away leaving the couple in peace.

“Okay, jagi.” Namjoon began, gently trying to shift Y/N away from him slightly, but she clung on, gripping the back of his suit jacket. “I’m not going anywhere.” He reassured her, gently stroking a hand down her back. “I’m just going to take Nara and hand her to Soobin. He’s going to take her to the car while I take you there. Okay, jagiya?” Y/N didn’t move, clutching Nara closer as the infant continued to cry. “You did so good, jagi. You did so good, but you don’t have to hold on anymore. I’ve got you.” Y/N choked back sob. “I’ve got you.”

Y/N slowly released her grip, slipping back and giving Namjoon room to take Nara from her arms. The little one was still crying, pathetic hiccuping sobs that tugged at Namjoon’s heart strings.

With a quick kiss to Nara’s forehead, he stood up, passing her over to Soobin who was waiting to take her to the car.

“I’m going to pick you up now, jagi.” he explained, moving slowly as he stooped to scoop Y/N up from the ground. She went willingly, wrapping her arms around his neck and tucking her face into his shoulder as he strode through the wrecked venue towards where Jungkook had the car waiting. “Rest, jagi. I’ve got you.” 

part 28

[sweetwolfcupcake]

The Taste of Deceit: Hyungline Part 2( Finale- Namjoon 1/2)

Masterlist

The Taste of Deceit Masterlist

Hyungline: Part 1, Part 2(Jin and Yoongi, Hoseok)

Warnings- Gore, Violence, Grey Characters, Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Unedited. Kindly excuse my errors. if you find anything significantly wrong, please let me know.

It was peaceful for a good moment, the moment right before waking up before she noticed how everything felt muffled. Like her ears were covered. It was not particularly hard to open her eyes, but she needed to find her bearings and assess—

Splash!

"Wake up, bitch!"

It was a snarling, rough and raspy voice that did not come naturally, but only through chain smoking and of course, white powder. She opened her eyes, flinching from the numbing coldness and the wet sensation, a few ice cubes hit right above her left eye and she won't be surprised if it left a bruise.

The man starring right at her had eyes that told her that she was the only thorn in his eyes, as if his rotting life was worth any of it.

(Y/N) mentally rolled her eyes, while registering that her hands were bound behind her with the chair. Thankfully, her legs were free. Ignoring the man, she looked around, it was nothing out of her expectation– an ominously dark basement, while subtly twisting her wrists to get out of the poorly-knotted ropes.

"Oi! I'm talking to you!"

Beyond a certain distance, there were only still shadows and darkness, casting a sense of uncertainty and unease.

"Listen bitch!" The grip on her cheeks was bruising, his blunt nails dug into her skin, threatening to break it "Had I not have the strict orders, you would have been a sorry pulp by now, I'm hold'n back, so you better show me some respect."

He hissed against her face, his breath reeked of alcohol and smoke. If the feeling of his spit over her mouth was not disgusting enough, his hand moving from his cheek settling on her neck hit the nail. His fingers wrapped around her throat threateningly while the other hand groped her bosom.

"Get your hands off." She deadpanned.

He did take it off, only to slap her with force enough to make her head whip to the side and the corner of her lips bleed.

"Fuck the orders I am going to make sure that I fuck the shit out of you until that sorry cunt bleeds—-"

One kick on his stomach sent him staggering away before he fell to the ground, coughing in pain. But it gave her enough time to untangle the ropes and push the chair away.

She kicked again, making him wheeze in pain and breathlessness.

"And I am telling you to..." She began as she sat on him, pinning down his legs

"Fucking"

One punch right on his eye.

"To"

Another punch on his nose, earning a cry from him.

"Take. Your."

Another punch was enough to send two of his yellow teeth flying out.

"Fucking hands. Off!" She snarled.

With one last punch, he was out. His heart was still beating and her fist was numbing. Those were least of her worries.

With her attempts to calm her rushing adrenaline, she searched him for any clues or weapons.

Thankfully, he had a gun tucked behind him and a key.

The basement, or at least that was what it looked like, was oddly empty. An she refused to believe that Namjoon was foolish enough to underestimate her. He was playing a long game and he was fucking cunning enough to be sneaking right under her nose– pretending to be the best fucking lover while playing her.

With renewed vengeance, she rushed to find an exit– a windows might be better than a door—

And there it was, a single shut window shrouded by the shadows in the dimly-lit basement. After checking the gun, she held it tight and in position as she silently approached the window, moving within the darkness. Tentatively, she nudged-open the window.

Nothing.

It was an empty concrete two floors down but no sign of guards or anything. Could be a security system, she suspected. But whatever it was, she had to get out. A living officer was always better than a dead one.

The thin cotton did not obstruct her vision, she could see everything, slightly blurry, but she could see things.

And she saw the gun being fired.

(Y/N) supressed a hiss when her feet met the concrete, her knees wobbled and ultimately met the ground in the process.

Looking back, she realised that it was indeed an isolated building. But, why was it not guarded if she was kept there? How long was she there?

Questions plagued her mind as she sprinted away from the looming building. It was built on the fringes of a wood, and with the skyline gradually dimming, anyone could tell that it was dusk.

If the lack of people near the building was not ominous enough, it was the fact that she had no one chasing behind and no traps on her way to the main highway that truly made her rethink every other reasons or guesses she had come up with before she found herself there.

She needed to contact her teammates first, warn them, they ought to lay low for a good while. By the time she had reached a clearing, it was pitch dark. And while there were vehicles passing by, none of them cared to stop for a waving girl in the middle of a road.

That was until a vehicle did stop. Peeking in, she found a group of girls, cigarettes in hands and as soon as the car window slid down, a waft of alcohol and cigarettes greeted her. Had she been in uniform, they would have earned a ticket for drinking and driving, but she was desperate and only thankful that they helped her get back to the city.

----

"(Y/N)? We have been trying to contact you!"

Kyong was, thankfully on-duty during the night. He rushed to her as soon as she barged into the police station.

"I know a man of his. Might be someone of importance–cut that, he is important in this fucking nexus!"

"(Y/N)…what are you saying? Relax, breath, please."

"Y-yesterday, when we were reviewing the footage, I saw him. I know him!" Her voice cracked before she burst into dry coughs, the back of her neck aching with each jerks.

Kyong was immediately by her side,

"(Y/N), please slow down, here, sit. Have some water first okay?" He gently made her sit on the nearby bench before offering her some water.

All the strain, all the pain finally rang in her system. While she felt slightly breathless, each breath came with a dull ache that refused to be suppressed. After chugging down over half of the bottle, felt slightly better.

"(Y/N), we have been searching for you since two days."

(Y/N) stilled,

"What? But I—"

She stopped mid-way and frantically checked her clothes.

"Hey, hey hey, relax, okay, relax. Lets get you home, hmm?"

"Kyong, its important, I know one of the men who were present in that club last night."

That caught his attention.

"Why didn't you tell us that time?"

"I was at a fix...I needed confirmation."

"He was with that suspect, speaking about a delivery– most probably drugs." Kyong retorted.

"Namjoon, or that was the name he gave me. But he is– he's definitely involved."

"How do you know him?"

"He...He was my boyfriend. Now I know why he was my boyfriend." She gritted through the last word, feeling contempt burning within herself by even associating that word with the man.

"Why don't you stay a the safehouse for now, it's no longer safe for you out there then, we'll figure something out in the morning. Let me update the rest of the team, they're worried sick."

The safehouse was at the most innocuous location, fairly isolated, but not enough to catch any attention. Kyong had been kind enough to lend her the extra pair of clothes he had saved for his night shifts. He was a meticulous man, after all, and it showed when he made sure to check every nook and cranny of the safehouse and ensure that it was only two of them there.

"Everything you need is in the bathroom and pantry. Just don't step out, okay? And don't answer anyone other than me or the rest of the team. You look tired."

"I'm fucked up. Everything is." (Y/N) muttered, gulping down her tear.

Kyong stood in silence, before patting her back "Look, I don't know what course we take from here, but I know that we are a team, okay?"

(Y/N) could only nod.

—-

The night had the veil of calmness, but the frequently flashing sky gave a warning.

(Y/N) hated the rain. Despised storms.Especially stormy nights.

"Dad—"

"Listen, here, get in here."

Her father opened up a narrow passage and ushered her in, even for a six year old, it was a snug fit.

He shut the net opening before sliding hangers full of clothes over the place.

She could hear faint banging on the door, the rattling of the door knob, that only grey louder...

And louder...

And

BANG!

She woke up wheezing, only to realise that someone was indeed banging on the main door. Wiping the sweat on her forehead and neck, she realised that she had fallen asleep sitting.

"(Y/N), open up, it's me, Kyong." Kyong's muffled voice floated into the sunlit apartment.

Checking her phone, she realised that she had six missed calls from her colleague already.

"Coming!"

She rushed to open the door, only to find Kyong in his uniform still.

"Didn't you go home?"

"(Y/N), you need to come to the station. Now."

"But why? Did you find Namjoon?"

"Listen, I have informed Sir and the rest of the team, they will soon be in the station. We had found a video in our investigation, couldn't keep it from our superiors, you are summoned in the police station for interrogation."

"W-what? But why?"

"Long story, I will brief you on the way, I requested them that I take you there, they were sending someone else."

—---

"Is that you Officer (Y/N)?"

It was a CCTV footage of the same evening she escaped from that abandoned place, but the first-half was cut off, it was only her punching that sorry excuse of a man.

"Yes, he-he was the one keeping me there!" She pointed out.

The two officers, both her seniors straightened up and assessed her. (Y/N) knew that look, they did not believe her. But why?

"(Y/N), that used to be the local police station decades ago. And man you hit, is a retired officer who even won an award for excellency." One of the officers revealed.

They both were her seniors, superiors of Officer Byuk. They were sent from headquarters. She had no idea what deeply wrong had gone in those two days, but Kyong had briefed her.

Apparently there was a wide-search for her when she went missing, no trace. At the same time, there had been two more shipments of cocaine. Successfully. Also, some classified documents from her home were missing.

Namjoon...

Or at least that was his name.

He had been to her apartment so many times, had 'waited' for her to come home a few times. But even once slip of chance was enough, that sneak got too many of them. No wonder she was being interrogated.

"Sir this is not—"

"Officer Lee." Officer Byuk finally made it to the police station, followed by Dok and Han, who stood beside Kyong on the other side of the room.

"Officer Byuk, its nice to see you again." One of the officers– Lee greeted him with stiff smile and a short handshake. "This is officer Hyuk, we have been sent by the headquarters in order to interrogate Officer (L/N)."

"I see, good to meet you Officer." Officer Byuk nodded with a formal handshake with the other officer "I would like to see the proper documents."

"We have orders, from the headquarter Officer." Officer Lee asserted.

"Officer (L/N) trained under me, she is a part of my team. I have the right to know, please," Officer Byuk gestured towards his office.

After a couple of moments of tense silence, the two officers followed him reluctantly, leaving her with her colleagues.

"(Y/N), you alright? We had been so worried!" Dok and Han rushed to her as soon as the officers were out of sight.

"Yes, I'm good. I don't know how...I mean that man he spoke as if he hated the police and I–I had to escape."

"I don't understand..." Kyong spoke up as he neared them "How did they get the footage? The first half-gone. It's no coincidence."

"Some files, regarding the information of officers in charge of dockyards are missing. The copies were with me, and they're gone. Kyong. I fucked up." (Y/N) sighed, running her hand through her hair.

There was nothing but anger and despair. Had she not been so fucking stupid, she could have had Namjoon in the interrogation room instead.

"You're not stupid, we all have major fuck-ups." Dok was quick to comfort his colleague and friend.

"Yes, our superiors have probably had major fuck-ups, but what matters is to how we respond from now on. What has happened, has happened, cannot be undone anymore. But its a war now, team, we only lost the first battle." Kyong encouraged. "We need to alert the stations near docks, they need special security."

"So, what now?" (Y/N) asked the most obvious question.

"Depends, if Sir Byuk manages to convince them of your innocence, there might not be further—"

His words are cut short when the three officers return in the room.

"We have had discussions regarding your involvement in an retired officer's murder."

"Murder?"

She checked, he was breathing!

Officer Byuk shot her a warning glance before recollecting himself.

"We have the footage of you punching him." Officer Lee spoke up "But there are enough loopholes for us to reach a conclusion, like the missing first part of the footage."

"I have had a words with the headquarter and it has been decided..."

She kept her breathe while Officer Byuk spoke.

"That an official investigation would be carried out, until then Officer (L/N), you are not allowed to leave the country, or work here. You are relieved of your responsibilities until proven innocent."

She was innocent!

She wanted to scream out. But at the moment, she chose to do what she must.

Accept the situation with a graceful and stiff salute and bow before giving away her badges and card.

—-------

File after file laid on the floor as she rummaged through her house, all were in place. Except for the few mentioned missing, nothing seemed out of place. No bugs, no more missing files, no camera. Nothing.

Kyong and the rest of the team had assured her that they would prove her innocent and support her. But it was not their battle now, it was not about duty anymore. It was fucking personal.

She had no badge for the time being, no uniform, even the official gun needed to be submitted.

That was not much of a worry though, she had another licenced one. But this...Her job, her uniform meant the world to her and it were all at stake. She wished to be like her father. But everything in front of her was crumbling.

As she looked around in despair, she tried to think though, tried to put aside the cracks she was feeling and—

The doorbell rang.

(Y/N) walked up to the door in caution, making no disturbance as she checked the peep-hole before hurriedly opening the door.

"Sir?"

Officer Byuk walked in, his gaze flickered at the mess behind her before he fixed his stare on her.

"Are you hurt?"

"No Sir. I beat him up because he was the one I found waking up."

And he fucking touched me with his dirty hands.

Officer Byuk spoke up after a moment of silence

"Lets talk over coffee. You have coffee?"

"Yes, yes I have coffee."

She told him everything. How she met Namjoon, how she felt a bit off and how she found out about his involvement with RM.

"You are fool." Officer Byuk had no filter.

She had known him ever since she was a child. Almost at his retirement, the officer had been her father's close friend.

"And if you are already feeling miserable and want to give up then I am disappointed, I did not recruit a weakling."

"I'm sorry, Sir."

There was another stretch of silent as her observed her.

"You have been a fool once, don't be one again by not investigating things yourself. Start from the beginning." He passed her the ID that had been seized before.

"Its temporary, but it may help. I have the original one with me, don't worry."

"I just don't understand...why did he go for me, not some higher up, had that not been more beneficial?"

"We don't understand a lot of things. Like that retired officer's involvement with the underground. That just makes it clear that no once can be trusted. But since you are not serving anymore, at least officially, use this opportunity to get your hands on this Namjoon or whoever that was. He could be our key."

"I don't think its easy."

"Nothing is easy, start by proving yourself innocent. But don't sit here and wait for that snake to strike." he sipped his coffee "Am I clear?"

"Yes Sir!" She straightened.

"Don't disappoint me this time. And here, from now use this sim. Yours is no longer reliable."

He passed her a  sim card. He came prepared, because he still had faith on her. And she was grateful to him, to her team who were standing by her while everything was pointing against her.

She would not disappoint them again.

"I give you my word, Sir. No more stupidity."

"Good. Now get to work." he nodded before speaking again " And put more sugar in your coffee from now on. What a bitter taste!"

—---------

Well, she had decided to start from where it all began. First, she tried to have the CCTV footages recovered, only to find out that every six months, the footages are deleted. So she had no footage before six months. While she spent hours looking at each and every footage of her and Namjoon, there was not much to be noticed.

Then she questioned the barista regarding the man who visited the cafe with her often.

"Since how long had he been coming here?"

"Ma'am, quite a while, maybe...six months?"

"More than six months?"

"Could be, I am not sure."

"Has he visited this place this week?"

"No, I don't think so."

Namjoon had vanished from the face of earth. Or so it seemed. Every place she had been to, even the economics professor whose identity he stole, nobody seemed to have much of a clue.

He was smart, she would give him that.

"Yeah?"

"You found something?"

It was Dok on phone while she passed through the busy streets of the city.

"Guess, what, that old hag you punched in the video? We've found something that might help. He was under investigation when he was serving, in the nineties, but he came off clean. I have informed Byuk Sir, come to my home, we review the file, and see if we can find something to put shit on him."

"Great! I'll be on my way."

Finally, finally she had something! Well, at least hopefully.

She had half a mind to inform the rest of the team, but since there was no solid confirmation, she decided not to disturb them.

-----

Dok's apartment was around thirty minutes by bus, along the way, she picked up dinner for them. Her stomach grumbled at the delicious aroma wafting out though the packaging.

Pressing the doorbell, she waited with tapping foot for Dok to answer. She knocked when no one answered for the second time.

"Dok! I am starving already and the food is heavy." She yelled through the door, hoping that he would hurry up.

She rang his doorbell again before calling him this time. The faint sound of his phone ringing floated out, but there was no movement, not even the faint padding of feet or shuffle.

"Dok?" she knocked with urgency this time, growing concerned.

She head the faint slow shuffling. Relieved, she waited for him to open the door so that she could pour out an earful to his lazy—"

Click!

"Dok you—"

The door opened, and the terrified face of her friend greeted her.

"Dok? Dok?" He said nothing through his laboured breathing, falling on her immediately. She help him immediately.

"S-save—"

With a jerk of his body, his head fell back while she had only begun to register the blood all over and an open gash on his back.

"DOK! DOK?"

She realised that had been shot too late, he was not breathing anymore. The blood soaked through her sleeve while the food laid on the round.

"DOK! DO—" She saw a flash of the red dot before it disappeared and without a second thought, she rushed towards the open window

"OI! DON'T HIDE YOU VERMIN!"

With raged eyes and rushed movements, she searched through the line of buildings. But with unshed tears in her eyes and under the veil of the dark night, it was all futile.

—-----

Blue and red lights covered the area near the apartment building and yellow tapes filled the entrance of the apartment. (Y/N) stood numb by Officer Kyong, his overcoat covering her stiff form. Every sound seemed slightly off, every movement felt slow. But this time, he could not keep her tears in. They flowed free as she watched Dok's shrouded body being carried out of the place into an ambulance, the while shroud marred by slight patches of blood.

Han and Kyong held their heads high, not letting a single tear flow out under the weight of the uniform. She felt Officer Byuk's hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

"Go home, child." His voice was heavy as he spoke, as if holding himself back.

She stood still, even after the ambulance left, her eyes remained fixed on the spot.

"He had some...He was telling me he found something." Her voice lacked emotion, and strength but that caught Kyong's ears.

"What do you mean?"

(Y/N) licked her lips, recalling the phone call "Dok...He was saying something about finding evidence that would proof my innocence."

Kyong's hands balled into fists.

He nodded, feeling a twinge of resentment bubbling in, but he squashed it immediately.

"This...Whoever..." He began lowly, "Probably has the evidence now."

(Y/N) stood in silence, eyes stilled on the road.

"(Y/N), tell us everything, don't keep anything from us. We already lost a teammate." Han was barely holding back.

"But for now, go home." Kyong advised.

She hummed absentmindedly. Sleep. She needed that.

—---

The rain pelted against the window, fogging it. While the city sky wept, (Y/N) laid on her back in her darkened room with dried tears. Her thumb pressed on the switch of the nightlamp by her bed, only to switch it off after a moment's stillness. It was a pattern that kept repeating, the ceiling lighting up simply, with vague shadows, before plunging into darkness once more.

All she saw was Dok's pained and terrified face in front of her, even with her eyes open. And once she closed them, all she saw was the dreaded night when...

"Dok you—"

The door opened, and the terrified face of her friend greeted her.

"Dok? Dok?" He said nothing through his laboured breathing, falling on her immediately. She helped him immediately.

"Th-thirty four..." he whispered into her ear "Thirty—Ah!...S-save—"

His head jerked back.

She had told the police each and every detail she could remember in her state. But something in her refrained her from revealing this little information. An officer ins trained to distinguish their intuition from any other form of panic and emotion, and rely on that intuition. It was the same intuition that pointed Namjoon out, and it she had been a fool to dismiss initially. She did not want to repeat the past mistakes.

The constant buzzing of her phone snapped her awake. She had not even realised she had dozed off.

With bleary eyes, she picked up the call in a daze.

"Hllw?" She slurred.

But there was no one greeting back. But there was something—

Breathing.

(Y/N) stilled, now alert as she waited with bated breath.

"Hello?" She tested.

The breathing quivered for a moment before slowing down to normalcy again. But there was no verbal reply. But this time, (Y/N) waited.

"Oh Little bird..."

The audacity.

Her hands balled into fists as she sat up straight, in a smooth, steady motion.

"I wish things would not have had to be so hard...But you—"

"Why?" She asked lowly through gritted teeth.

"I was dying to hear this voice" he sighed lightly and paused for a moment "It's business baby, nothing personal. I just hoped that it would not have to be you. The police tries to meddle with our business, we fuck it up royally. But I have an offer for you, little bird..."

She remained silent. She could almost feel his smirk.

"Come to me, lets forget the past. We can be the same again, but this time you have no officers barking orders at you."

"Why this kindness?"

She could hear his shuddering breath again.

"Oh, Darling, you would not believe me if tell you now...But I feel bad for that officer. That made you upset..."

All she could think of was Dok's face and the number he had whispered into her ear.

"You..."

He took a light but sharp intake when she began.

"...Fucked with the wrong person."

With that, she cut the call.

This was not about her duty or the police department anymore. This was personal now.

—-----

"Did you find any device in the apartment?"

(Y/N) was currently at Kyong's place, both of them sitting in the living room with coffee.

"Devices, like what?"

"Dok had called me to inform that he had found something that would proof my innocence. And Just before I can reach him, he...he is murdered."

"So you are saying that he was being spied upon?"

"I have no other explanation right now. If I were the target, why was unharmed? They are trying to pick us out, one by one, they know us, they know the team."

Kyong hummed.

"What if Dok was not the only one being spied upon? The rest us are probably on their hit-list. But I don't understand...You came out unharmed."

"It was a set up. They framed me for murder of a retired officer, they made sure to kill Dok in front of me. Its psychological game they're playing."

"In every way, you were the one present there so the suspicion would point at you."

Her mind went back to the call. What was the purpose of it?

What did he want? What did his boss want?

"Keep an eye out for danger, alert your family and friends as well, better to put some officers for their safety. We need the help of the intelligence department Kyong, this is not a police-thief hide and seek. It's a war."

-

The road was isolated, but as much as she remembered, it was the same road she escaped through. It was dark again, and she knew that it was expected of her to return to that place. But she had no option, her Kyong and Han had no other option. Under the night sky, everything seemed off.

"Lets park our car here, if we take it into the woods, people might be alerted if they are there." (Y/N) suggested.

As soon as they were out of the vehicle parked safely out of sight, they mingled into the woods. Dead leaves crunched under their shoes as (Y/N) led them further in.

"Are you sure that this is the place?" Kyong asked as they ventured deeper into the woods.

"As much as I remember, yes?"

"Remember? (Y/N), do you realise that one of our teammates is dead and we have guns over our heads, and if we don't find them first, we will be dead!"

Kyong was frustrated, and no matter how much he wanted to keep those thoughts away, they were bleeding through his subconscious.

Clouds of breaths escaped (Y/N)'s lips at that. She understood him, she understood his fears and where he was coming from. But she also knew that there was no other way but to tread in the darkness until they find an anchor, a clue– something, anything.

"I know how this feels—"

"No, you don't. Dok is dead (Y/N)."

"I know he is and it kills me!"

"Okay, you both– we are going to alert people if we keep raising our voice at each other. Dok is no more and they have hit us right where it hurts. There is nothing that can be done until and unless we find this...RM. Whoever it is, they had Dok killed, they had (Y/N) kidnapped and they are waiting to pounce again."

Han's words had both of them looking away. Kyong pushed his hair back– he had never felt helpless and frustrated to this extent.

"Let's...let's keep going, the place is here somewhere."

With that, she resumed walking ahead.

(Y/N) recognised the silhouette of the building from a distance. She signalled the rest of her teammates before the three split up. Taking cover of the darkness and the trees, they stalked closer to the building. It stood with an innocuous appearance, but (Y/N) knew better.

She signalled Han to follow her before swiftly and stealthily making her way towards the building walls. Attaching herself with one of the walls, she watched as Han moved to the opposite walls. After the entrance was surrounded, Kyong moved straight to the entrance of the building.

Both (Y/N) and Han peeked out as Kyong inspected the entrance before giving them clearance and entering, they followed, all of their guns intact and pointed in front of them.

"Number three, anything important? Over."

(Y/N) asked through her headphone as she searched the upper level of the building, kicking open empty doors, expecting to find something but there was—

"No, all three rooms all clear." Han replied.

Her eyes narrowed as she focused her flashlight over a dusty desk. Everything in the place was covered with dust and cobwebs except the half-burnt cigarette. Her gloved hand picked it before sniffing.

Realisation struck her as she shoved the cigarette into her pocket before rushing out of the room.

"Number three, number two, danger incoming 10-0, copy that!" Her eye scanned the area for people before she found gliding through the walls. On the ground floor. She duked in immediately but continued to move.

"Number six, message received."

"I see them moving, take cover!"

She descended with stealth to the ground floor, following the men. Watching them closely, she loaded her gun in silence. Deciding the wall was a good enough cover, she switched to Kyong once more.

"Shoot!"

And with that, bullets surrounded those criminals from both their sides, catching them off guard. They did not intend to kill all of them. She heard some glass shattering from upstairs.

Four out of the five men were down, the other had taken cover behind a wall.

A bullet shattered the glass behind her. She was exposed to the people above.

With no choice, she backed away into a safer cover. while the other man made a run for it

Left with no other choice, (Y/N) chased him into the woods. She faintly heard Kyong's warning call for her but that did not matter. Nothing matters but to take back that man alive. It was a trap and he would be the one proving it. This chase could be a trap as well. But worth the risk.

The bushes, leaves and brushed past her in a swift blurs of sounds and sensations as she chased him. All she could think of was Namjoon's deceptive smile and Dok's dying face.

He was a quick runner and a dodger. The rock he hurled at her came flying towards her, she was quick enough to save her head but it hit her shoulder. And did it hurt bad.

(Y/N) gasped and stumbled due to the jolting pain.

It was just moment before adrenaline pushed her to resume the chase. He took a sharp turn and she almost stumbled before following him.

It was muddy slope with a bubbling creep a few feet deep when she finally grabbed him by his shoulder.

He elbowed her injured shoulder kicked on her stomach, sending her doubling over. This was enough for her grasp to loosen, giving him an opportunity to escape.

He had made it to the creek, his legs ran fast to cross the creek, stumbling a little before—

"ARGH!"

He cried out as the clear water of the creek darkened with crimson. He clutched the side of his knee, but could not stop the blood from gushing out.

His hand reached out for the gun tucked behind him but a heavy boot pressed down on his hand, making him cry out.

"I have him. Over."

(Y/N) informed her teammates, slightly breathless, but keeping her boot pressed on his hand.

---

"There was no need to tie a cloth over the wound, won't say a fucking word!" Han was growing frustrated.

The tied man only grinned through his bloodied teeth. It was quickly becoming clear that it was not his first time being interrogated.

"I'm being nice for the last time— who do you work for?" (Y/N) spoke through gritted teeth.

Her shoulder and throbbed and felt slightly heavy, but the tied up man was the potential key to prove her innocence and to get her hands on Namjoon.

No, her main target was RM, Namjoon could be dealt with later.

She shook his thoughts out of her mind and straightened up.

"And if I don't?" He asked, breathless from the pain. "You can't even arrest me." He cackled at their face

"Listen you little shit—"

Kyong was about to pounce on him but (Y/N) stopped him.

"Kyong, we need to handle this carefully if the department comes to know—"

"So what?! What more can happen? Dok is fucking dead already and they were here to kill us too."

"And that is exactly why we must be calm!" (Y/N) asserted, but Kyong only scoffed and looked away with disdain.

"(Y/N), they knew we were here. They were fucking waiting, that's why you found the bloody cigarette! We are risking our lives just to prove YOU innocent!"

"Kyong! Stop it, we are a team." Han interjected.

"Han, Dok is fucking dead trying to prove her innocent." He shoved a finger at her"  Important files are missing from her home because she blindly trusted a fucking criminal! Why didn't you cross-check his identity first? Are you that incapable? So fucking blind? It cost US! The WHOLE FUCKING DEPARTMENT! Byuk Sir is under fire because of her sloppiness!."

"Kyong—" Han tried to intervene.

"No what the hell are we doing? She almost led us to our doom!"

"Kyong stop it!"

"WHY SHOULD WE? Does she even realise what her love affair has cost us?" Kyong screamed his anguish out on her.

(Y/N) stood still. His words hit her, but she would not show it. She had lost enough for showing her vulnerability to people.

"I know how difficult the situation is."

She began, calm and reserved.

"And I promise you both–"

"What are you? Five? We don't want fucking promises (Y/N), we need results." Kyong spat

(Y/N) sucked her cheeks, maintaining her cool.

"I promise you both...if anything goes wrong, it will be only me who gets under fire. I take all the responsibility. But now, we must work together. This is exactly what they want, for us to lose faith in ourselves." She whispered to Kyong, quiet but assertive.

Kyong's gaze locked with hers in a hard, long stare before he looked away.

"I need a smoke. Get him to talk."

With that, he left the room.

(Y/N) and Han turned to the man sitting against the wall. Amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Pathetic, aren't ya'll?"

"You really are asking for broken bones, huh?" Han gritted out.

"You think a brushed bullet can get me to speak? Years ago, another officer tried to be all macho and righteous." He chuckled and sniffle "Shot dead in his home...So think again fools."

Han kicked him on his stomach, making him double over and cough out saliva, but he sniggered.

Han was about to kick him again when (Y/N) chuckled out, shaking her had. Her eyes were a cold but sure warning as she licked her lips. The previously amused grin vanished from the man's face at the sight of her sharp smile with a shaking head.

"You have, never been properly interrogated before."

She whispered out, stalking towards the now alert male while her colleague stepped away.(Y/N)'s hands rested in her pockets, painting the most deceptively casual picture. But as she sat to his level, looking at his eyes, the man stiffened.

Wordlessly, she took his right hand, unbothered by his violent struggles as she held his forefinger, before her other hand brought a needle and pushed the pointed end right under his fingernail, earning a blood-curling scream from the man.

Kyong rushed in, but only watched from the doorway as the man writhed and shook under her unrelenting hold and cold gaze. He wheezed when she took the bloodied pin out, only to thrust it again with greater force, making the man wail out. She moved her leg and pressed against his wounded knee as he gasped and shook, crying out for mercy.

"Who sent you?"

"We—W-we got orders—right–high–higher up–higher up–aaagh!!"

He gasped out.

"Who do you work for?"

"H–Henchin–Lee Henchin—"

"He is only the drug peddler. Who is he working for?"

She took out the pin before moving to his next finger, thrusting the pin underneath the fresh fingernail, he cried out again.

"I don't k–Knowww eeeaAAa!" He wailed

"I am going to put this pin right through you eardrum if I hear this bullshit again."

She sounded like she was explaining a life lesson.

"I really—I r–really don't know!" He wheezed out, gasping as she twisted the needle, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay...Who are his biggest suppliers?"

"H–H–be–we–we collect from hyve–hah"

"What was that?" She leaned in closer

"Hybe...we collect from there—aah!"

She finally let go of his hand and wiped the needle off his blood.

-----

"Lee Henchin? We have no evidence against him, he runs two very exclusive clubs and has a restaurant under his name, but he is a big name (Y/N), I can't just allow that."

"But Sir that man did take Lee Henchin's name, we even recorded his confession—"

"By using violence? You know that it would not work. Besides, Henchin's a big name, we have some clue of his association with prominent yakuzas. I am not letting you three meddle into that."

"But Sir, this is our golden chance. He is going to bring us closer to this RM." (Y/N) almost could not believe what she was hearing, but after Dok's death, she knew where Officer Byuk was coming from.

"No (Y/N), you think we have not tried to get to that little rat? We lost two men, not even their families were spared. You have no idea how deep these roots run."

"Three, Sir. We lost three officers in the span of seventeen years."

Officer Byuk looked at her, surprised.

"And so we need to pull these roots out once and for all."

She added.

"You think its easy?"

(Y/N) looked away, having no answer to that. She went straight to Officer Byuk's residence after the 'interrogation'. It was deemed dangerous for the three to travel together to an officer's house.

"Sir...Dok is dead, our teammate is dead and we know who did this."

"And you three will be too if you go after him. We originally started this mission to know about RM's connections, we found that. And we stop here, this would be passed to the higher ups."

"And it will stay there on some unknown desk collecting dust. We know that too Sir."

Officer locked her gaze with a stern stare.

"I am not ready to lose more of my able officers. There is already an investigation going over you, focus on finding evidence against that officer's connection with the underworld."

"But that is connected to this! Henchin might be out key to prove my innocence."

"That would not help as much as you like to think. None of you are going to go after Lee Henchin. Am I understood?"

(Y/N) stared back, frustrated, angry, but silent.

"Yes, Sir."

-----

"Why did we just leave out phones in our cars?" Kyong was visibly annoyed, but had complied to (Y/N)'s demand.

"Because, I think our phones are being tapped."

(Y/N) replied before sipping her tea. She missed a good cup of that. When she...was with Namjoon, she had introduced coffee to her regular diet. Not replacing her tea, but reducing the consumption.

That man had crawled into her mind.

"Well, how did they know that Dok had some important evidence? And when we went to the same spot I woke up in?"

"So you called us here for this?" Kyong had been cold ever since their fight, and while (Y/N) had tried to be understanding, his behaviour was getting on her nerves.

"I am not found of wasting people's time, Kyong. I called you all to tell you that Officer Byuk will not allow us to go after Henchin."

"WHAT?"

"Why?"

"Guys, keep it low." She hissed, avoiding all the glances and turned heads in the cafe.

"But—but we have his name...Henchin can be a key to prove your innocence as well (Y/N)."

"I know Han. But Henchin, has a record. Most of the cases against him and his pubs are either inconclusive, cold or abruptly closed. There were officers who went behind him, they are all dead. Byuk Sir just does not want to risk our lives."

"But, we are fucking close." Kyong hissed

"We already are taking on this mission without any supervision from the higher ups. He says that he would be sending the details to the intelligence."

"So Dok's death means nothing to them?"

Kyong was understandably upset

"I don't know about them. But we care." (Y/N) reassured.

"But Sir just dismissed any further action."

(Y/N) hummed at Han's words before picking up her filled cup and taking another sip.

She looked at the two, their eyes held question, but also resilience.

"Sometimes...duty comes first, obedience to authority, second."

There were three officers dead in the span of twenty and four years. One, five years ago, second, twelve years ago. And third...seventeen years ago.

Seventeen years ago when she was a six year old child, and she witnessed her father's death.

Because he was the first office to go behind Lee Henchin.

"We will go. Lets start planning."

-----

"Are you sure he would be present in this club tonight?"

After tracking him for a week, they finally had his schedule. Thanks to the informants.

"I'm 99% sure." Kyong replied.

"What do you mean by 99%?" Han was visibly tense.

"Relax, we can never be 100% sure of anything here, can we?" (Y/N) assured him, eyeing the area with a mask of normalcy.

The tree of them came here as any other guest looking to rewind a bit. It was easy to acquire false names and use false information. The club was booming with life, a Friday night in all its glory— messy, lewd, merry, drunk and dancing– everything all at once.

"The VIP and VVIP section is on the first floor, the second floor is off limits, the basement harbours the storeroom an kitchen. Keep eyes on all those heading up. And keep in touch. I will go mingle into the crown from the front, you both choose either corners."

(Y/N) decided, the two nodded before the three separated, moving to their chosen directions. With her mask on and eyes done, (Y/N) made sure to take on a disguise. Her eyes wandered away as she danced her way to the centre, among the crowd of swaying, jumping bodies and flashing lights, all she could see were people who either wanted to burn, or escape, or perhaps both.

Calmly, she ran her eyes over the place, brushing away intruding strangers and drunk office workers. It was a glamorous place, it was a sorry place, it was a safe place for 'deals'.

"Attention, suspect spotted, going up, follow. Over." Han's voice cut through the thrumming music.

"Received, following."

The first floor was quieter, but not untouched by the loud music below. Kyong motioned them to to stay on the darker portions, avoiding cameras. One of their informants worked as a bouncer there. Had it not been for him, they would have no weapons to defend themselves.

The three followed as the three men, surrounded by two bodyguards ascended further. Second floor.

Kyong motioned towards the bathroom before walking in.

If the second floor was off limits, the stair would be the worst way to take. So they had to climb through the bathroom window into the store room of the second floor. Kyong opened the window and entered quietly, only after he was sure everything was clear, signalled for the two to follow. The room was dark, but clear of any threat for now. The informant needed to be rewarded heavily. With practiced stealth, the three made their way out, staying close to the wall, waiting.

A guard entered the seemingly empty hallway, only to be pulled by the neck into another sharp corner, the back of a gun came down heavily on his head, knocking him out immediately.

Han motioned his teammates with a positive sign as the unconscious guards slid down the wall. Dragging his body into an empty room, he took hold of the card required to unlock rooms. They were playing with fire. But it was an absolute necessity.

As they passed through the seemingly empty hallway, in search of those—

"Team."

Kyong and Han turned to (Y/N) who stood a few feet behind, eyeing a certain door.

"What is it?"

"I think this is the room."

"How do you know?" Kyong eyed the room.

"Yes, we can't be sure." Han added.

"You are right. Do one thing, you two go ahead, I will check this room."

"(Y/N), are you out of your fucking mind?" Kyong hissed "We can't just—"

"I will keep you updated."

She assured them, leaning in to check. So far, silence. Slowly, she pushed the door open to peek in.

Empty.

"Go. We have limited time."

She urged before they could speak up.

Glancing at the room number once last time, she slid in with caution.

Room number 34.

Had it been a pitch black room, she would not have take much of a risk. But the room was unlocked and dimly-lit. An indication that someone was about to come in, or had recently exited. Using the closet to hide, she slid behind the hanging towels and some washed curtains. The gaps in the door design allowed her unobstructed view of the room.

"In the room, watching. Clear for now. Copy that."

She informed her colleagues through the interconnected earbud before checking the number of spare bullets hidden in her shoes.

Now all was left was to wait. Patience would bear fruits. Or something like that along the lines.

She waited patiently for over an hour–still and quiet until the door the the room finally opened. And the room was illuminated further. Leaning away more into the darkness of the closet, her ears perked up at the sound of footsteps.

And finally, the person was right in her viewing range.

"Any updates?"

Kyong's voice rang in her ear. But she did not reply, she could not.

"Number six. Any update?" This time, it was Han.

"Number two and three...take shelter. Over."

She whispered to the earbud, while her eyes watched the man in front of her.

Officer Byuk.

He made himself comfortable over a cushioned chair by the window in the room after taking out a bottle from the mini fridge in the room. But he took out two glasses and did not uncork the bottle.

She waited in the closet another hour with anticipation before she heard a knock. Byuk instantly rose up and went to answer the door.

"Hello Officer Byuk."

The voice had her tightening her grip on her gun. Ready to shoot.

"Finally, come in please."

She waited with bated breath before the second man came into her viewing range, right in front of her.

"It's a pleasure to see you again Officer."

Namjoon's voice was deeper than she remembered, a gravelly edge that somehow made him sound exactly like the cold-blooded criminal that he was.

"Lee said he's on his way. He will join us shortly." Byuk spoke up, motioning towards the set table.

"Let's wait for Lee." Namjoon offered.

"No alcohol for him today, he's on antibiotics he said." Byuk replied, finally uncorking the bottle and filling the glasses.

"Any new updates?"

"The officers were close. But now that the threat is diffused, I think Lee needs to lay low for a while, some of the officers might not let this go." Byuk replied, sipping on his drink.

Namjoon only hummed.

He lookers slightly different than a month—

One and a half month. It had been almost one and a half month since she had last seen him. All she remembered how lively, kind and gentle he looked. But the man she was looking at now had a sinister edge to him. He always had that, he simply hid that well. He was no longer sporting hair she had last seen him with. It was cut short, somehow enhancing the sense of danger that shadowed his presence.

Her eyes moved from him to Byuk– Uncle Byuk– the man she trusted the most in the world. The one man she had put her blind trust on. She exhaled slowly, trying to keep her bubbling rage at bay as she began to connect the dots.

"Number two and three."

There was no response.

"Number two and three?" She hissed, turning tense with each passing moment.

She loaded her gun noiselessly. Something had gone wrong.

Byuk's phone rang.

"Please excuse me." With that, he picked up the phone and listened. "Shit!" he hissed, cutting the call. "I think I need to get out of here, there are two officers in disguise in this building, I will order them to shoot them at sight."

"Don't kill them now." Namjoon spoke up before rising from his chair, Byuk followed "And there are not two officers, but three."

With that Namjoon marched up to the closet and swung the door open, making her gasp. Before she could injure him, he grabbed her wrist and dropped the gun to his hold.

"Tch, that's dangerous little bird."

The nickname made her sick.

"Think of your friends before you do something."

He whispered coldly while dodging her attacks. Byuk stood there, pale as soon as (Y/N)'s gaze found his while she struggled in Namjoon's hold.

"Easy, Little Bird, we just met, what's the hurry?"

This little shit!

"She will kill us Sir, finish her!"

Byuk's words were the final nail on the coffin. She wanted the write the ending, but perhaps fate had other plans. She could only pray that Kyong and Han get away safely.

"Mind your words, Byuk."

Namjoon's voice dipped lower and Byuk visibly gulped.

"Bu–but she knows now."

At that, Namjoon looked down at her. Finding her eyes still on that imbecile, he gripped her cheeks and compelled her to look at him.

"But she won't let anything happen to her friends, would she? Lee's men already have them. And all they need is a nod from me."

She hated being close to him, and she hated herself even more for realising that she missed him, she missed his proximity, his touch, his eyes, his smile, she missed his voice. She missed him.

His thumb rubbed her cheek with a softness she had yearned for one and a half month. And at that moment, she wished that he were a different man, she wished she never met him, she wished that she never fell in love with him.

"What do you say Little Bird?"

His hold on her was firm– there was no use of struggling anyway, one phone call and Kyong and Han would meet Dok's fate.

He leaned closer, his fingers on her cheeks effectively preventing her to move away. It was an ambiguous feeling when she felt him inhaled a long, sharp breath before breathing into her. Their breath mixing was like a reaction set to scatter the world around.

"My offer still stands, Little Bird. But of course, the choice is yours."

His voice was milk and honey, a mocking smirk on her predicament.

"Sir, we have the two officers." A new voice emerged from the entrance and he finally let go.

She turned to look at the man she had only seen pictures of. But his presence filled her with a sense of disgust she never knew she possessed.

Lee Henchin was an aged up man now, but the wicked shadow he possessed overpowered the room. He glanced her her with a curious tilt of his head

"This one could do for the VVIP clients. One of the girls escaped, we need a replacement anyway for tomorrow."

She felt cold, but the sheer amount of hatred in her urged her to break his face. Maybe take out his teeth– one at a time.

"The Lady is not for sale, Lee." She shivered when Namjoon growled from behind, pulling her closer to him.

And as she watched Lee Henchin's previously confident stan falter subtly, she understood who pulled the shots in the room.

"You can do whatever you want with the rest of them though." Namjoon added.

She tensed at that, and he felt it too, she knew that when he asked her

"Isn't that right, little bird?"

The silence was only a beat long, but it held oceans within.

"Offer accepted." She muttered out begrudgingly.

"What was that honey?" He rose an eyebrow, barely containing his smirk.

She would have slapped that smirk away had it not been Han and Kyong's life at stake.

"I accept your offer. But you will let them go safe, in one piece. And they will never be bothered again."

She looked up to meet his eyes– the deep brooding eyes that reminded her of unwritten poetry and hidden classics read on rainy days were now swirls of storms themselves– all the harsh murky days, the hovering, ominous clouds, the sharp, sudden thunderbolts and the deep rumble that followed.

"Lee, tell your men to release the two. Throw them out of the club."

"Uh–I did not know that she was—"

"Officer Byuk!" His voice rose, cutting Henchin off "Make sure the two never reach here, or me sniffing."

"As you wish, Sir."

He took a completely different way out to reach his car. His hand though gripped hers. Outside stood an imposing car in the middle of two others. Like a gentleman, he opened the door for her, keeping a close eye as she settled into the farthest corner.

But he was least bothered by that. He finally had her in his grapes, and that was all that mattered.

"I'm sorry Little Bird but I can't quite trust you so soon." He urged her to give her hands, keeping his voice gentle.

She should know that he meant no harm. He was not the villain, the world was. She narrowed her eyes at him.

(Y/N) knew that she had no choice, not at the moment at least. It was narrow path and the only way was the way ahead. If she was going to die...Well she did not know anymore. Namjoon's behaviour was odd so far, it kept her guessing.

Swallowing the bitter pill, she placed her hands on his tentatively, only for him to lock them behind her. The coldness came engulfed her wrists soon after.

What a fucking irony.

The cop being handcuffed.

She ground her teeth to keep herself from reacting the way she truly wanted.

"What—"

Just as she thought that it was over, a black cloth over hear eyes rendered her blind, making her jump, ready to spring into action. But Namjoon's hold on her tightened.

"Shhh, take it as safety measures, Jagi, nothing else."

He cooed at, tying over the blindfold.

"It's' not necessary, I can't go back anyway." (Y/N) felt the simmers of panic in her belly.

"I know Jagi. But I don't take chances with capable people."

It felt simultaneously like a warning and compliment. Perhaps it was. He knew her capacity, and he was not taking any chances. With a defeated sigh, she leaned on the expensive leather of the car, feeling the engine rumbling into life before the slightest jerk indicted that the car was now in motion.

----

The villa was settled near an isolated road that harboured a stretch of moor on the other side, beyond which laid a highway cutting through a small woodland. And the housekeeper made excellent tea.

There were five of them— those visible at least– her, Namjoon, the housekeeper, a maid and a cook.

A month in the place, (Y/N) at least knew that Namjoon held a high position—Namjoon was his real name after all and it was a stupid as well as smartest move to pull, given that he was, at least very close to the highest and he had spied on her and the department for a long period of time. No one would assume that he used hi real name, criminals never used their real names. She was, though yet to decipher how many of them were hiding in the woods.

"More tea, Madame?" The housekeeper who has been adamant to not tell her his real name, offered to refill her empty cup.

"Thank you, Pep."

(Y/N) nodded to him, smiling faintly as he refilled her cup for the second time.

"No more mooncakes, Pep, I want my tea just as it is."

"Sure." He put away the mooncakes, while she sipped on the tea, watching the wind sweep through the moor in orchid waves.

She kept her eyes on the scene outside, while her ears strained to hear Namjoon on the phone. But he was inside the house and the walls were soundproof.

It had only been a month but to her, it felt like a decade since she had gone to work. Everyday, before her eyes would battle against sleep, all she could think of was Uncle Byuks' betrayal and Lee Henchin.

Lee Henchin...

"I am so sorry, Jagi. My absence sometimes hurts the business."

Namjoon walked up to her with his pretentious apology.

"Why bother to stay back then? Your blood money flow is affected."

He only smiled at her words before turning to the housekeeper. Taking the clue, Pep walked away, leaving the two alone.

"Nothing, (Y/N), is more important than you."

"I don't understand this game..."

And really, she did not. She had no more information to give him. Officer Byuk knew more than her. Had more access. Then why was he even interested in her?

"I did come close to you with the intention to be closer to the ground and have some files." Namjoon confessed, looking away to the moors while he sipped his coffee.

"But even if you don't believe me, Little Bird, I fell, and I fell hard and stupid in love with you." He eyed her for moment before his gaze dropped on his share of mooncakes.

He loved everything sweet, she had learnt.

"Even if you don't believe me, I do not blame you. We have a lifetime to ourselves."

" That's very confident for man who has a boss to answer. What would RM think when they come to know that you an officer?"

Namjoon leaned back, not even a flicker of doubt passing on his face.

"I don't answer, Little Bird."

She frowned and put her cup down.

"Why?"

He smiled indulgently at her, but to her, it felt condescending.

"I don't answer to anyone, Love. People answer to me...I am RM."

She felt cold and parched all over.

—-----

Kyong bit into his apple while his eyes remained on the screen in front of him. No, he refused to believe that (Y/N) was dead, as 'evidence' had shown. He would not have believed that Dok was dead had he not seen his body himself. But (Y/N)...He had not seen her body. It was only her gun–bloodied gun. But again, there was no confirmation whose blood was that.

That was a work too lousy to be professional. It was a cover up, and a poor cover up if he may add.

And he won't be at rest until he finds out where (Y/N) was bring her back.

—--

"I'm dead?"

(Y/N) whispered in disbelief as she watched the tv screen. It was a follow up news. And she, like those cold cases piled up inside shelves, was herself reduced to one of them— a cold case that may fascinate many, but not bother any.

"Who put backs news channels here?" RM hissed at Pep who stuttered in his presence.

"I fixed a monthly plan, they must have added—"

"Take that down. Now."

Her name and face was long gone from the screen. Like a flipped page, it was another day, another news, another race for TRP.

But her cheeks trembled.

She was dead to the world, her traces, her existence was wiped out. Even if she were really dead, there was no family to grieve for her. The only person closest to be called a family was the one to give her one final blow.

"Hey, hey, its just to make sure that no one comes after you, yeah? And we can start afresh."

Namjoon's face shielded the screen as he cupped her cheeks, eyes searching–trying to read her, reassure her. Make her feel the safety she never would. Switching the television off, he focused on her again.

"Don't think too much about that, okay? Why don't we..." looking around, he whirred his brain before his eyes landed on a golden wrapper "Why don't we make chocolate together? Hmm? You love baking right? We can bake later."

As if that would help. She was spiralling and she was spiralling fast.

She let him lead her to the kitchen while Pep hurriedly helped to set the ingredients. But her mind was running far away. Was there, really no choice? No hope for freedom?

—---

"It's cold, wear a coat."

Were Namjoon's first words as soon as he was back from his home office and into the bedroom.

"But, we are alright inside?"

(Y/N) was confused. Anybody could tell that it was cold by the blanket of snow covering the moor, some browns still peeking out, but over all, it all stretched white.

"We are going out for a walk." Namjoon smiled at her. The surprise must have been apparent as she put away the book she was reading and sat up straighter.

"Like, now?" Her eye widened in surprise.

He nodded, watching her closely, but there was a softness that did remind her of their older days, but it held something different, something more. She was, finally having the chance to step out of the place after two whole months, and there was no way that she would let this opportunity go. But there was a part of her that seeped in disbelief and suspicion.

Why would he risk it so soon? There had been no indication of him beginning to trust her. Then why?

"I know that the news of...your death charade was a bit too much. But I did what I thought was an absolute necessity. But I cannot bear to see you sad, Little Bird." He walked closer, sitting on his knees to meet her eyes.

He waited for a verbal response, but there came none. She only nodded.

The sound of snow crunching had something satisfactory in it. And as they walked through the snow. Namjoon pulled up the warm scarf.

"Its cold, Jagi, be careful."

(Y/N) nodded and fixed the scarf over her nose as they walked through the snow-covered moor, towards the white woods. His hold remained firm over her other hand though. Fingers intertwining, slithered between the gaps like he had slithered in her life.

Namjoon could not help but look at her with fondness. Even though there was no trace of a complete smile, there was a ghost of it somewhere— a spark in her eyes that had been somewhat dimmed in the past month. Namjoon hated that. He knew that he had hurt her and things had been going hard enough as it was. But, the news headlines about her (faked) death might have been the final hit. She was crumbling, and Namjoon hated that. She had suffered enough. He could always deal with Henchin and Byuk later. But she was his priority.

He kept a close eye on her, while his hand squeezed her gloved ones every now and then as they walked closer to the woods.

"Its a pretty sight."

"You like it?"

Of course she did, the way her eyes took in every detail, it was clear as day that she loved the winter wonderland the small woods would turn into.

"We can..." He weighed his options "We can come here everyday if you like?"

Without another word, she kept walking, her eyes fixed on the ground as they passed through the trees.

"What are you looking at?"

"Huh? Sorry just—what did you say?"

Namjoon observed her a moment before looking away, "Lets go back."

"So soon?"

"Hmm, I don't want you catching cold."

Tugging her to take a turn, he strode back to the villa. His grip, even through the gloves felt tight. Once back, he ordered Pep to prepare tea for them before marching back to the room.

"Is that what you have planned for me? To be your prisoner?"

Even after two months, nothing changed, and her patience was waning."

Namjoon looked up from his tea, eyes gleaming before he put the cup down and sat up straighter.

"You are no prisoner little bird, don't call yourself that. Did you not hear my offer?"

"I accepted your offer. I am here with you, on your whim, in return of my friends' lives."

"No, that's not it. I told you, come with me, you will have more power than a miserable uniform can ever give you. And by now, I assume you know that the silly ideals you were holding onto, hold no place there."

She stared back at him defiantly as she slowly sipped her tea.

"These 'silly ideals took us to Henchin'. We had him that night..."

"Until I appeared."

"Until you appeared."

"And he still lives."

"He is useful to me (Y/N)."

He killed my father.

He killed my father.

He fucking. Killed. My. Father.

In silence, she sipped her tea.

—------

"Why didn't you accept the invitation, it has been a while since we've gone out drinking?"

Han walked along with Kyong, who strode to rush out of the police station as soon as he could.

"I'm not in the mood Han?"

"You said the same last week."

Kyong finally stopped "Because I was not in the mood to go drinking last week too." he sighed out, annoyed.

"Okay, how about this Sunday? You and me?"

"Han, I'm busy this Sunday."

"You dating, man?"

Kyong sighed at the question

"No–I am—Listen Han—"

"No because there is something bothering you. Look, Kyong, I know that losing both of our friends like that is and has been hard so far. It has been three months since (Y/N)'s..." He eyed Kyong cautiously, who only threw him a withering glare before looking away "(Y/N)'s demise."

"Han...Let's not talk about that."

"This is exactly what we need to talk about— first Dok and now (Y/N). I feel guilty too. She sacrificed herself. Lee was going to kill us but—"

"I fought with her, okay? I doubted her, she was the one in trouble and instead of being understanding, I blamed her for Dok's death! That–" he pointed his finger down, moving it with force "— is guilt!"

"Kyong...You can't let this consume you forever, can you?"

Kyong did not reply. (Y/N) was alive. And he was going to bring her back, even from the depths of hell if it were to be.

—-----

The gentle snowfall had now turned to occasional blizzards that left a good few feet of snow for days. It was no surprise to her that their daily walks were suspended. But it did come as a surprise when she woke up one a gloomy morning, only to see Namjoon all dressed up.

"Good morning little bird, did you have a good sleep?" He turned to her as soon as she had begun to sit up.

"Are we going somewhere?"

"Me, not you." Namjoon replied, fixing his cufflinks "Be good for me while I'm gone,"

His voice was airy as he approached her to place a delicate kiss on her forehead. Yet his eyes were another story— they held a clear warning.

"The blood-business needs the big bad mafia?"

"Business is business, Jagi. There is only profit, loss and sides. Nothing else."

"So it is important."

"The maid has prepared breakfast, if you want, I can have it brought up." He diverted the topic

"No, thanks, I will take it downstairs."

"Okay. I might be late, do not wait up for me. Sleep on time, okay?"

She looked up to him before looking away with a dismissive nod.

Namjoon sighed, "Things would have been different had you just taken up my offer."

"I am here, am I not?"

"Not willingly. You are holding on some stupid ideals."

"Why must I trust you? You broke my heart– they are my friends who stayed with me. I am not holding on to any ideals anymore Namjoon"

I have a purpose.

Namjoon sucked his cheeks– a tell tale sign of his draining patience. He was a patient man, she would give him that– and perhaps it was the calmness he executed his plans, no matter how cruel– that sent sent chills cascading down her. He was not the one to run with impulse, rather, with a cold, meticulous plan.

All the more difficult to decipher.

Namjoon was a man to not mess with. And while he was an extremely patient man, every man had a fuse. She was in no position to try her luck.

Wanting to be out of the situation, she got off the bed and tried to walk past him, when his hand coiled around her waist, pulling her closer to him, while she kept looking ahead. Yet, there was a pit forming in her stomach.

"Those men had been too near you for my liking. If I wanted, I could have had them ripped apart." His hold tightened as he continued "Limb. To limb. And still have you here."

This made her turn to him– her fiery glare matched his cold contemplation.

"But I did not want that. I do not want you to hate me. So don't make do something that is going to cost our progress." His breath was hot on her skin.

Without another word, she jerked his hand away and strode into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

Once inside, she waited for a good few minutes before she switched on the flush, then turned the shower on. She had heard the muffled sound of door closing. Opening the bathroom cabinet noiselessly, she rummaged through her sanitary needs before a packet came to her grasp. Dipping her fingers in, she fished out the phone she had hidden. Having checked the bathroom lock one more, she moved away from the door while her thumb rushed to dial a number.

The person picked up after a single ring.

"Kyong?"

She whispered.

—-----

Namjoon waited. Eye glancing on his wrist watch ever so often. He did not like to wait. He was the one make people wait. But this deal was important for a business boost. The larger the company, the easier it was to play the cards.

"Where is he, Lee?"

Namjoon's voice did nothing to show his thinning tolerance. He only flicked his lighter on and lit up the limited edition cigarette to keep his cool. The argument was in his mind, her fierce stare showed no spirit of reconciliation and this was worrying for him. He needed her to see how futile everything was– everything she believed in, and how powerful she could be with him. He wanted her loyalty, only then he could marry her. And if he would not marry soon, one of his rivals would and have a heir before him. He had spilled enough blood to be on top, he did not want more bloodshed. They all had their share when he killed the previous Don and took the throne.

"Jardo, my friend!"

Namjoon looked up to see the awaited guest walking up to him.

"My sincerest apology for the delay, businesses have trouble, Sir..."

"RM."

Namjoon corrected him before accepting the hand he offered for a shake.

"Jardo Alec, kindly have a seat."

Lee offered the seat right in front of Namjoon.

"So, your dealings in the Latin world is famous here too."

"Not here, its all over the world."

Namjoon tilted his head.

"I have a schedule, Alec, and I would get straight to the point. There is a shipment of merch-material coming for the factories under Hybe. It will stop the your coast for some custom issues– deal with it, refill the packs inside the material and ship it."

"Well, there has been negotiation regarding the price—"

"Seventy million. I want the pure, white and the yellow ones. Put them inside capsules" Namjoon interrupted.

Jardo sat back, surprised at the lack of negotiation.

"You have got your pockets full, RM."

Namjoon smiled while rising up and buttoning his suit, the rest of the men mirrored his actions.

"Lee will inform you regarding the rest. But I need the shipments before the top five groups begin their world tours."

"You want to sell in the concerts? That's a risky job."

Namjoon took in his cigarette, letting the fumes enter his system.

"Its a risky business."

----

Kyong's eyes took in the computer screen that showed the targets. He the location of the guards loitering in the woods near the villa. Namjoon was out in months. Surely, the guards would be on high alert.

His specialization in hacking did come handy when he was able to get past the security system of the cameras outside the villa and in the woods as well, to note the movements of Namjoon's men. But he could not stay for long, the breach would be eventually detected.

He noted their movements for a few hours before retreating. There was a pattern, but that was not his problem. The problem was the fucking high-functioning front with a camera that overlooked the area. He needed to find out first who had the control of the drone.

—--

"The risotto was delicious Pep."

"Thank you Ma'am." Pep smiled, bowed and retreated.

Just as she had finished her lunch, the gates of the villa opened,

"The weekly groceries are here, Madame."

"I have just finished lunch, don't bother about me, go fetch that."

Pep bowed lightly before rushing to open the door. Bags of the listed items were carried in by two sturdy men.

"Do they have the chocolates I ordered?"

She followed them into the kitchen as Pep prepared to stock up the pantry.

"Oh, here it is." He handed over the box of chocolates to her. Her eyes flicked over the two men there, then on Pep before she open the box.

"I will be in the bedroom Pep, have the evening tea sent up, will you?"

"As you wish, Madame."

She nodded before popping in one of the chocolates in her mouth and walking away.

Once inside the confines of her bedroom, she sighed. Nearing the intercom, she tossed away the chocolate box and picked up the intercom. Taking out a chip from her mouth and wiping it clean, she took off its plastic coat and glued it to the back of the device.

—----

"I don't understand, what do you mean by lost data?"

Namjoon was tense. How could it be? They have lost a dozen of profiles of their guards? Check for a breach."

"Checked Sir, there was none. It seems like a glitch." His men from the other end of the phone explained.

"Okay, send this case to the higher up. I don't want another sloppy hacker job."

Well, the day could not get any worse.

It had been two days since his confrontation with (Y/N) and she had been colder than before. No snide remarks, or witty, scalding comebacks, just the silence. Jardo and his deal was facing an obstacle regarding bribing the customs, and now some of his guards' biodata suddenly went missing.

Namjoon was on edge. Her jerked his tie to loosen up as the car sped through the muddy countryside road. The melting snow and the icy wind did not help.

"Bring me me a coffee!" He growled as soon as the housekeeper opened the door for him.

"Sure, Sir."

Tossing away his dirty overcoat, he ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes looked up to his room, usually, the lights would be on, but the room was all dark with the door wide open.

"Where (Y/N)?"

"Upstairs, Sir."

"She's not in the room." He pointed while taking the steaming cup from the housekeeper's grasp.

"She's on the terrace Sir."

He stopped just as he was about to take a sip. "The terrace? It's fucking dark! Why is she still there?"

He did not wait for an answer, instead, he ascended the stairs.

The terrace was lit up, as usual, just not empty anymore.

"What are you doing here?"

Her back was facing him when he reached the terrace

"I was bored."

She replied without turning.

"There are plenty of subscriptions for you, there are video games"

(Y/N) finally turned as he neared her.

"Thank you." Her honeyed tone stung.

"How long are you going to keep this up? What the fuck—-" Namjoon stopped mid-way, recollected himself after a long breath and resumed "What do you want?"

"You know what I want Namjoon, and even with all the money you can't give it to me."

"I can, once I begin to trust you."

"You proved me dead to the world! You have officers on your payroll, and you are still afraid."

"I am never afraid!"

With a roll of her eyes, she brushed past him.

Fuck it!

Namjoon turned around and strode behind her, grabbing her arm and jerking her to stop and turn to him.

"I've had enough! You think you can torment me like that?"

With a tilt of her head, she assessed him "I think its working. Cool off, Namjoon."

His hold only tightened.

"I have been patient enough, have I not? How long are you going to keep—"

"I do not play with people Namjoon. And then you have the audacity to complaint." It was not an outburst like before– it was plain, cold and as much as he wanted to deny– factual.

"You can't keep this up."

She rose her eyebrow, infuriating him further "Watch me." this time, she forcefully jerked his hold off and walked away.

Namjoon just stood there. Heaving. Burning.

Cool off.

The words did nothing to cool him off. In fact, it had the opposite affect. He needed her. He love her and she needed to know that. So he rushed after her. Chasing her like a lifeline, the only hope of survival.

Desperate.

Angry.

Passionate.

He did not know what came after what, or how many more emotions he was feeling. But he knew he loved her.

And that it hurt when she refused to believe him.

She was already in their room, walking in just in time as he rushed in, kicking the door close. But when she turned around to tell him off, his fingers wrapped around the back of her neck before he pulled her into a burning kiss.

It was like an imprint on his soul– he had been waiting, he had tried to be patient, but she was stubborn, and fiery, and righteous– he loved her, he loved everything about her, but above all, he would love to let his darkness bend her righteousness.

He felt her tugging him closer. He knew he was ingrained in her. She loved him too. His movements were quick and rough as he got rid of her clothes, not caring if he ripped them away in the process, removing his own as well.

It was static energy in the room, thick passion and meaning line between insanity and passionate.

"You fucking get on my nerves sometimes!" He growled, parting her legs with a firm, sharp movement but surprisingly, not rough.

"I thought the boss never loses his cool?"

He chuckled humourlessly at the poking.

"You wanted me to beg you, didn't you? Beg you for forgiveness and tell you how right you were?" his thumb found her pearl with practised ease, her sharp intake of breath only fuelled his desire "I do not beg!" he hissed on her face, playing with her pearl "I. Beg. Nobody!"

"Tell that to yourself Joon–keep telling that to yourself until you fool yourself." She replied breathlessly, somewhat grappling with her wit amidst the onslaught of pleasure coming down on her.

Joon.

Namjoon froze at the nickname. She had called him Joon after so long. It was like returning home after a hard exile.

His movements slowed down eventually, but never came to a halt. He leaned in and kissed her with tenderness– all the tenderness he could have in his heart– the remaining, the newfound, the churned, the ruined.

It did pain him to see her surprised eyes. A remained of the painful fact that she did not trust him, and it was a long way ahead to rebuild their relationship– one that would never be the same, since its very foundation was based on deception.

But in the end, their love would prevail. His love would prevail– even if it was crafted by the nefarious creatures below.

And if...

He dove in, peppering kisses on her bare breast, feeling them to his heart's content.

And if she would never love him the same again...

His one finger teased her folds, testing, feeling her legs spread further unconsciously, making him smirk.

His love was enough.

His finger dipped in. He had missed touching her, feeling her. It was moment he wished could last longer.

He kissed her again, this time, he felt her pulling him closer.

His finger reached deeper, feeling her velvet walls clamp around while she tensed. His thumb continued to play with. Her fingers sprawled over his naked chest, the nails barely scratching him– light and teasing. If she was doing that knowingly– she was playing with fire.

His other hand buried itself in her hair, fisting it lightly while he deepened the kiss, light moans only encouraged him to act further. Adding another finger, her moved them further, occasionally circling them to earn those sweet moans that spilled from her lips. His fingers moved and her hips followed, her hold on him tightened, sliding towards his shoulders.

"All you have is me."

He whispered into her ear, quickening his pace, watching in glee as her eyes rolled back before he felt her spilling on his fingers– hot, gushing as the walls spasmed.

He was a patient man...

But it had been so long since he felt her around him.

Diving in for another intense, mind-robbing kiss, he parted her legs further with his knees, fingers still buried knuckle-deep inside her.

The sudden flashes of her with another man sent him to a frenzy. Had he not promised her to spare their lives...

She moaned into the kiss, hissing as his fingers moved slowly inside her, occasionally parting to prepare her for him. Finally pulling away his fingers, he smeared her wetness all over his manhood before letting the bulbous head tap against her folds teasingly. His patience thinned further when she mewled into the kiss. Relenting against his tongue while he slid inside her, slowly stretching her, inch by inch, until he was buried as deep as he could be.

But he wanted to bury himself deeper.

He wanted to leave traces on her soul, he wanted to run in her veins, he wanted to be the one in her mind and the first on her tongue.

"I missed you." He was turning breathless with all the adrenaline pushing up in his system. Yet, he did not want to hurt her.

To him, she would always be his little bird

"You had me."

"I missed this. You, like this! We–we can always...always go back to as we were."

His hips moved in sync with hers. In that moment, they both were one. And he wished the moment would last till eternity.

It was like his soul was reaching out for hers.

He lied. He knew he lied.

He would beg.

For her, to her.

If that was what it took to being them back to the lovely days they once shared.

"Oh–Joon—"

He moved faster, basking in that moment, deluding himself that everything was alright.

At least he could relish it as long as it lasted.

Her legs wrapped around his hips as they both shuddered in ultimate contentment. It was quiet for a while as they settled under the covers.

"We can start afresh, love." Namjoon whispered, letting his fingers run through her hair, moving away strands as he cherished the tender moment.

Her previously closed eyes opened with unfathomable gaze.

"No, Namjoon. We are not meant to start afresh." With that, she moved the covers and got off the bed.

Grabbing things from the closet, she walked into the bathroom, unbothered by Namjoon's heated stare on her.

Sitting up, Namjoon picked up the cigarette pack and the lighter beside it. Pulling one between his lips, he lit the cigarette. The smoke clouded his vision as he exhaled, leaning back while his eyes kept finding their way back to the shut bathroom door every now and then.

Halfway through his smoke, he got off the bed and wore a pair of sweats.

Still no sign.

Frowning, he turned to pull the curtains of the window a bit and—

As soon as he saw the bloody corpse of one of his guards, he rushed to the bathroom.

"(Y/N)!"

No response.

With one powerful kick, the bathroom door flew open, letting him view the now wide open window with its glass slates cleanly removed with thick towels.

"(Y/N)! FUCK!"

He bellowed.

—---

The snow was thick and the dark woods did not make it any easier. There was blizzard due and they had to reach their car before that.

"Careful there," Han held (Y/N) as she tripped, almost falling flat on the ground "You sure you're not hurt?"

His questioned made Kyong turn to check on her as well, he had been a bit ahead if them, but within the earshot.

"No—I'm okay. Its get out of here." (Y/N) reassured Han, who eyed her with concern, but nodded nevertheless.

Kyong and Han had pulled off the impossible. She had only heard of Kyong's legendary hacking skills...Had seen him hacking no more than modest systems but as they made their way through the silent, snowy forest, she was introduced to his and Han's true potential.

But that was not the thought that plagued her mind– it was filled with the flashes of her and Namjoon– their bodies mingled together. He looked at her with so much of tenderness, with the vulnerability that she refused to believe in. it felt like they were even now.

He deceived her, she betrayed him.

And yet...

And yet there was no trace of satisfaction, or simmering down of the—-

"SHIT!"

Han ducked down just at the right moment, and the bullet hit the tree before him.

"Everyone, down!"

(Y/N) instructed, pushing Kyong away before another shot was fired at him.

"We need to split." She declared as they took cover. It was silent but the light crunching of the snow conveyed approaching danger.

"But we–"

"Now, Han. Go right, Kyong, follow this path. He's after me. I will go left. You two– if I do not return withing twenty minutes, get out of here."

"What? (Y/N). we are not leaving you behind!" Kyong hissed, eyes still ahead in search of the attacker.

"I won't let you guys die because of me–Dok was—"

"It wasn't your fault." Kyong finally looked at her, his hardened gaze softened slightly "It wasn't...I'm sorry. I should have been more understanding."

(Y/N) nodded.

"Go...Please."

Kyong frowned but obliged, nudging Han to slip out first without coming under notice.

"We will see you on the road by the woods?" Kyong's waited for assurance.

Assurance. That was all she could give him at the moment. So she nodded.

"Go."

With a nod, he began to crawl back, maintaining cover of the trees an shrubs. Once he motioned (Y/N), she made a quick dash to her left– deliberately exposing herself.

Her legs worked fast, but she could hear the sound of quick boots approaching. The snow was only slowing her down. But slowing down was not an option.

She could hear him running parallel to her, but with the blurring rights, she could see nothing. He was like an invisible hunter.

But she was no prey.

All she had to do was to distract—

Ow!

She fell to her side, allowing her had to slow down the momentum. But it was painful, especially due to the weight of another man over her. She heard him snigger humourlessly as he locked her to the ground. Knees pinning her legs while he locked her wrists behind her back with one hand. The barrel of the gun felt hot pushed on the nape of her neck. But his breath falling so close stole overshadowed the sense of danger a gun would bring.

"Not so fast." He growled lowly and she shivered, pressing the gun harder

The snow was cold and the jacket did little to help her. Her breathing ruffled some of the dried leaves close by as adrenaline pumped through her.

"I will fucking kill him–kill them both!"

Namjoon would keep his promise. And that gave her all the more reasons to get out.

"No, you will not."

She hissed before navigating her fingers to press on the spot near his thumb, making him loosen his grip a bit but that was enough for her. Her elbow shoved on his jaw as she twisted her body out of his grip. Putting her weight on her upper body, she managed to flip him off her. Rolling over, they both were quickly back on their feet. The only difference being Namjoon's gun now kicked away while (Y/N) had her gun pointed at him.

His smile was unnerving--eyes still raging with emotions. Despite the low visibility, she could see how deranged he looked.

"Yeah, fire now. That would help you in future."

His voice had a tremble.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes, squinting to get a better look at him. The faint lights told her that the edge of the woods was nearby.

She could fire. She had the gun– a loaded gun. But how could she?

She realised the emptiness she had within after looking at Namjoon's eyes. Her vision blurred but she blinked away the tear immediately.

It's the cold.

It's cold.

She told herself.

"Back off Namjoon. I have nothing to lose anymore. I can keep you off the radar. Just don't come after me."

"I will always come after you Darling. So, shoot me now."

He chuckled at her lack of response.

"Why? Can't pull the trigger? Don't you hate me?"

"You made a fool out of me." (Y/N) growled, feeling anger bubbling up on the surface "Deceived me. Lied to me. Backstabbed me!"

"And yet I loved you. All through my lies, I loved you...I did what I ought to do. But I could never kill you."

He was supposed to kill her?

"We are even now, aren't we? Just come back. Cut the chase."

His voice was a siren call. But she would not be deceived this time.

"We can never be even Namjoon. I lost everything because of people like you."

The loud sound of the door breaking made her whimper, but it was all muffled with the sound of gunfire.

Through tears and fabrics, she could only watch as the once cream wall splattered with blood, and more blood before the lights were out.

She gulped.

She should have forgotten it. Buried it deep down. But she never allowed herself to forget that. She had to remember each and everything so that she could tell the child psychiatrist. Each and Everything.

"And you think you are all angels in that uniform?"

She shook her head.

"No."

Lies were worn under uniforms as well. There was no difference.

" Of course, there are no angels in this world Namjoon."

Her world was turned upside down. Her perception was cracked and her beliefs toppled. She was dead to the world. Being dead in reality would not make much of a difference.

She had nothing to lose.

"But that won't matter."

With that, she pulled the trigger.

----

The streets were in a lull. At he peak of winter, snow blanketed the footpath the bicycle lanes hardly had any tracks. Red, golden and green lights lit up near doors and on windows, like vines creeping all around. Some doors had the wreath hanging with toy bells.

Byun was home after a double shift– weary eyes, sagging shoulders– he knew he needed a warm bath. The process of unlocking the door felt tedious, but as soon as she shut the door, the warmth of his apartment invited him.

It was freezing.

And the predictions were that it would snow heavily by the weekend. While everyone would be cozied under blankets and the roof of their homes, people like him would have to slave their way through the weekended to save the sorry-ass streets.

He threw his overcoat off, along with his cap before roughly taking off his watch—

He stood stiff, straining his ears while his fingers silently took out his gun.

Muffled voices from his bedroom door which was shut tight. He was home after more than twenty four hours but he remembered leaving it open.

He always left it open.

Deliberately, he made his way to his kitchen, making sure he made enough disturbances. Switching on his expresso machine, he stealthily glided along the walls, making it to his bedroom.

The muffled voices did not cease. Silently, he tried the door knob– unlocked.

In a flash, he kicked it open and aimed his gun towards the intruders, fully expecting people to fire at him.

Nothing.

The door creaked as it moved to and fro due to the force it was opened with, while the bedroom remained plunged in darkness and—-

The voice.

It was his voice!

Coming from a voice recorder sitting on the middle of the bed.

"Hi, I'm Byun. I have just prepared a team of four. They will come after your men. Reach the docks an hour before the time. I don't want them caught. No, listen, I can mislead for so long–they're no kids okay? Yeah they–*sigh* I am calling you through his phone so that we are safe. Tell Mr Lee all about the delivery– yeah—"

Byun reached quickly to shut it off, his gun still pointing ahead.

He was not wrong, his house was broken into.

A speeding car momentarily flashed some light into the darkness.

He was not alone.

"I've seen you...come out..." He demanded gruffly, keeping a cool exterior.

From the darkest corner, she emerged like a ghost. Parts hidden by the darkness, parts exposed by the uneven streetlight.

"A-aa—you fire that gun and yet this recording is going to be on air, I have put it on timer."

Her eyes flickered on the gun pointed on her direction but they were looking into his in no time.

"I wasn't going to shoot." Byun deadpanned.

"Why?" (Y/N) rose an eyebrow with an amused smirk.

"Because its you."

She only titled her head, "You underestimated me Byun."

His name sounded cold as she neared him.

"Like you underestimated my father."

"He died because he was foolish. I warned him against them–but he was stubborn. He brought it to himself. You were following his path."

She shook her head.

"I am not my father Byun. I learnt my lesson early."

The silence between them was thick and strained, but it lasted only a moment.

"I you kill me the department would know and—"

"I give you two straight options– either this recording of yours goes on-air and the police, the intelligence and Henchin himself come after you to give you the death you deserve...Or you end it all by yourself and make it easier for yourself."

Byun chuckled in disbelief.

"I am being merciful Byun. Take it while you can."

"You are showing me mercy because you can't kill me yourself." He pointed out.

"What would be worse? Your recording coming out or being killed by my hands?" She looked at the wall clock hanging behind him "Fifty seconds more, and it all is going to go on air. The department would want to look good in the public eye– they would want you behind bars, or dead... And Henchin would reach you behind bars too."

Conflict flickered all over his face, his forehead glistened.

"Lee will come after you." He tried to intimidate.

But (Y/N) only smiled– faint and tight– matching her steeled gaze

"I will be waiting."

"You cannot—"

"Ten."

"(Y/N)--" he hissed

"Nine"

"You will gain nothing!"

"Eight..."

"I–"

"Seven"

"STOP!"

"Six" She sniggered.

"Five."

He was growing breathless

"Fou–"

In a flash, he pointed his gun at his head"

BANG!

The once pristine wall beside him was sprayed with blood. Some flecked her face too as she watched his body drop down.

She would have stared longer, but she knew that she had no time to waste. Choosing the fire escape, she noiselessly made her way out of the building while muffled voice of disturbance and commotion began to stir up.

Once a safe distance away, (Y/N) wiped her face before fishing out a cigarette and a lighter from her coat's pocket.

As she lit her cigarette, she saw the trembling of her hands.

----

Continued here.

[euno11a]

Can I get a mafia Namjoon and Fem reader Birthday smut age gap like 29 and 23 please 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

I’m absolutely loving your asks! I saw this and was like, done.

Warnings: age gap, smut, lingerie, oral sex (make receiving), choke on that dick!!!, cream pie, namjoon being pussy whipped 🥹

18+ ONLY

You weren’t sure how it all started, but what you did know was that you were now on your knees for the birthday boy. He was holding your hair, pulling you down onto his cock, making you choke and slobber on his dick. He was the birthday boy after all!

It started with you dressing yourself up in a beautiful and sexy red set of lingerie, that left almost nothing to the imagination. That’s how you ended up here. Your boyfriend’s dick down your throat, making him a groaning and moaning mess.

“That’s right, take it like a good slut.” He almost growled out, being so fucked out that it was hard to control any kind of reaction he had. The wet sounds of your mouth on his cock was only egging him on even more. The more you were on your knees for him, the more his ego would grow. Only because he knew you’d do anything for him.

You pulled back, a string of spit connecting your lips to the swollen tip of his hard-on. “My knees hurt, joonie…” whimpering, you shifted on the floor, staring up at him as if you were an obedient puppy.

Namjoon held your hands and helped you up, making you sit over his lap. “Does it feel better now, darling,” he asked softly, gently rubbing your knees.

You nod your head, already grinding on his cock. He let out a low moan, guiding your hips to move you faster. He needed this. He craved this. His hips jump up a little, trying to get more of your slick on himself. Gently, he helped position you into your hands and knees, kneeling behind you. You were able to feel the tip of his dick being rubbed between your folds, teased at your opening. “Joonie, please…”

“Please what, princess?” He asked, slapping his dick over your clit.

“Please fuck me…” you begged, not wanting to have a punishment. You wanted to be on your best behaviour for him. He deserved it! You were his good girl. His one and only. Pushing his cock in, you could feel the stretch of your walls. No matter how much he stretched you out before hand, you were never truly prepared for him. You whined at the feeling of him in you, it wasn’t your birthday, but it sure was a present! Pumping slowly in and out of you, he’d let you adjust to the sudden stretch, Once you were okay with the feeling, he would speed up, making the sound of skin slapping together echo off the walls.

It wasn’t too soon before he felt it, the tightening in his stomach. The clenching of your walls. The euphoria that came with the sudden orgasm. He rode out his high, pumping you full of his cum. When he pulled out, he could see his own cum dripping out of your cunt. His cum mixed with your juices looked like absolute heaven to him. You turned around and felt weak in the knees, giving him a gentle kiss, you whispered to him “Happy birthday, joonie…I love you.”

He couldn’t help but smile as he felt your body lean against his, “I love you so much more, princess.”

[btsmosphere]

Namjoon.

Namjoon’s powers are red. Little more is known, except that he should not be underestimated. Most superpowers come from unfortunate accidents, mysterious happenings and rare gifts, but Namjoon is... something else. He seems to be collecting them, the same way he takes in stray people, people who are too deadly to find their way back anywhere remotely normal...

<prev | Supercharged Masterlist Here | next>

[jimxnslight]

Fool's Gold || Part I

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. violence, blood, etc), additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

<< masterlist || next part >>

“I heard that she’s a complete airhead.”

Jungkook’s expensive shoes smacked against the pristine white and gold marble floors as he continued to walk through the lavish hallway, hands disappearing behind his pockets while his steps were slow and confident. Most would think he was choosing to ignore the comment, but his closest friend knew better than to rush a man as calculating as Jungkook. 

Instead, Taehyung strolled alongside him, taking in the glittering chandeliers looming over their heads and the intricate designs carved into the white walls that were much too traditional for his taste. Jungkook and Taehyung were nowhere near out of place in the sea of extravagance with their custom suits and shiny black dress shoes. Taehyung, the more simple of the two, had his brown hair parted and pushed back to reveal a blemish free forehead while his grey and black suit complimented the grey specks in his brown irises. 

On the other hand, Jungkook’s black on black outfit adorned two expensive cufflinks and a gold brooch attached to his lapel. Taehyung’s gaze dropped to his black hair, which he noticed had grown in the past month. 

When Taehyung realised that Jungkook wasn’t going to speak, he decided to fill the silence. 

“Like apparently she’s huge on wearing pink and frilly stuff -which I guess is just a girl thing- but still, this is a mafia not a tea party.”

He paused, waiting for his comrade to offer his thoughts, but was met with silence once again. 

“I’ve also heard she’s dumber than a pile of rocks. Barely passed high school and then dropped out of university not even a month in. Her major wasn’t even that hard. Commerce, was it?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed as Jungkook continued to lengthen the silence. 

“And as you already must know, she was also married about a year ago but then was widowed after her husband was killed by a rival gang on the same day. Even though their marriage didn’t even last a full 24 hours, she had been so traumatised by the whole thing that apparently she didn’t even speak for an entire month after the ordeal. Can you imagine how much of a princess she must be for a simple death to shake her that much? She must be a real- come on man, how long are you going to make me go on?”

Jungkook turned his head to offer him a sly grin, “I was wondering when you would reach your limit.”

Taehyung gave him a halfhearted punch to the arm, “you’re such a jerk. Answer my question man. I’m dying to know what she’s actually like.”

He followed Jungkook as he turned into another hallway, curious as to what he thought of her, but his answer had him staring at Jungkook incredulously. 

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung faltered in his step, gaping at the back of the man who continued through the hallway nonchalantly. When the weight of his answer finally processed completely in Taehyung’s mind, he ran forward so that he could walk alongside his friend once again. 

“I think you misunderstood my question,” Taehyung tried again slowly, “I want to know about Lee Y/N, you know, your soon to be wife? The one you’re about to marry right now?”

“What is there to know?” Jungkook commented, mind occupied with a topic of much more importance, “a marriage with her will allow for the unification of two powerful mafia families and will also allow for an heir to be born. Is that not the whole point of marriages for individuals like us?”

“Well yeah, but there’s no harm in getting to know her at least a little bit. Did you even hear about the ‘dumb as rocks’ part when I was rambling?”

“That will only make her easier to control,” he deadpanned.

“Fine, whatever. Is she at least pretty?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened even more when Jungkook didn’t respond, “please tell me you’ve met her at least once. Oh my god, have you even looked at a picture of her?” 

Jungkook's silence was all Taehyung needed to know that the answer was, in fact, no,” I knew I shouldn’t have gone out of the country! My parents kept telling me everything would be fine and they’d take care of the whole thing but you haven’t even met her once? I should’ve made my return flight earlier, then I could’ve-”

Taehyung’s voice faltered as he noticed Jungkook’s distant expression, causing his brows to furrow. He wasn’t listening to a word he was saying, which wasn’t something entirely out of the ordinary, but it usually wasn’t this bad. He sighed as he shifted his gaze to the expensive hall before him. 

“Is this about the Parks?” He asked, noticing his friend’s focus return.

“It’s the Parks and the Mins,” Jungkook admitted, “ever since their alliance, they’ve been getting bold. They made a move on our West docks last week and would have been successful in seizing them if it weren’t for the blackmail I managed to procure at the last minute. But that won’t hold them off for long.”

Taehyung’s head tilted to the side, “you’ve always enjoyed a challenge. Why’s this bothering you so much?”

Jungkook turned into another hallway to finally come face to face with a large pair of grandiose double doors that towered over them. The two men came to a stop, aware that their conversation was now on a timer. 

“I just… have an uneasy feeling,” he said, unable to reveal anymore to Taehyung. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend what he had really witnessed when he visited the docks yesterday.

Taehyung, clueless to Jungkook’s inner turmoil, slapped him on the back, lightening the mood with a grin, “come on man, this is your wedding. You’ll figure everything out later, for now just relax. You deserve it.”

Before he could protest, Taehyung shoved the double doors open to reveal an enormous and crowded wedding hall. The white and gold marble floor stretched across the entire room, while multiple diamonds came together to form a giant chandelier that hung over the hundreds of tables that had been decorated with shiny silverware and pristine white roses. The people were just as decorated as the furniture, with their elegant gowns and glamorous jewellery. 

At the sound of the doors opening, the once chattering crowd silenced, opting to sneak glances at Jungkook and his friend instead. Hushed whispers echoed around the hall as Jungkook straightened his back and held his head high before making his way to the centre of the room. Behind him, Taehyung took his place, his outgoing and extroverted personality tucked away to look just as regal and intimidating as the groom. The crowd began gathering on either side of the aisle, clearly excited for the bride who had been scheduled to appear any second now. 

Most men’s hearts would be racing during a time like this, Jungkook thought distantly, eyes focused on the aisle as well. Marriage to others was supposed to symbolise unwavering love and devotion. But not for him. For him marriage was simply a contract, a means to an end that he hoped would lessen the burden of a number of challenges. In a world like this, there was no such thing as love. 

Only power. 

The sound of the double doors opening pulled him from his thoughts, with two professionally dressed workers fixing them on either side so that they remained open this time. Jungkook watched a pair of women in what seemed like light pink bridesmaid dresses trail behind two girls who couldn’t have been more than five throwing white and light pink flower petals in the air. Behind the entourage was a figure drenched in white. 

You walked slowly into the room, your glimmering white dress trailing behind you as a thick white veil draped over your face and the front of your dress. Jungkook could only make out your hands clutching a small bouquet of white roses while your arm looped around your father’s, who was slowly guiding you down the aisle. Despite the aid, he couldn’t help but notice an uneasiness to your steps and a slight shake in your hands. 

The crowd’s gaze stayed fixed on your figure, drinking in the Jeon Jungkook’s soon to be wife. There were some gasps of astonishment at the beauty of your dress and figure, while there were some gasps of jealousy towards the woman who was taking Jungkook off the market. You didn’t seem to pay them any attention as your head stayed fixed in front of you, focusing on not falling as you continued through the aisle. 

To Jungkook, it felt like years had passed before you finally reached the small steps leading to the stage he was standing on, your bridesmaids taking their places on the opposite side of where Taehyung was standing. Your father unlooped his arm from yours and stepped back to sit on one of the seats that had been reserved for him, leaving you to hesitantly step onto the stage yourself. Your heel wobbled as you brought your foot forward and Jungkook knew exactly what would happen before it did. 

He watched your heel slip sideways, causing you to careen to your right under the heaviness of your dress. But before you could crash into the large pots of white roses, Jungkook shot forward so that his hand could grab your waist, hoisting you up to prevent you from falling. The crowd swooned at the gesture, murmuring about its romantic nature, though all Jungkook could wonder was how you’ve been surviving in a mafia family for so long. Taehyung had only said you were dumb, not a complete klutz too. 

He could feel the warmth of your delicate hand on his shoulder as he guided you up the steps, only letting go of you once the two of you were facing the patiently waiting priest. Once he had motioned for everyone to sit, he began his sermon in an obnoxiously boring voice. Jungkook had no particular interest in paying attention to a speech he had listened to multiple times growing up. Instead, he took the chance to survey you briefly. With your veil still hiding your face, he could only take in your perfect figure and pristine skin. 

Eventually, the priest asked you to remove your veil, to which you complied slowly. Taehyung came forward, offering to take the bouquet in your hands while your bridesmaids helped you hesitantly lift the soft white cloth over your head. 

A wave of hushed whispers spread throughout the crowd at the sight of your face, one that caught Jungkook off guard. Your eyes had been lined with a light liner, while your lips and cheeks had been made to look dainty. Your hair fell from the top of your head to your shoulders, styled in a way that framed your features and neck. Jungkook noticed a small silver necklace in the shape of a heart resting against your exposed collarbone. 

Your makeup made you look so innocent and… young. Jungkook almost wanted to pull Taehyung’s parents aside and confirm that you really were twenty three and not some nineteen year old. It was a bit of a turn off, he realised, slightly bothered by the fact. As a twenty six year old, he obviously wasn’t into teenagers, so he didn’t know what having a wife that looked like one was going to do for him. 

Then again, he wasn’t marrying you for some kind of gratification. He was marrying you because he needed to form a strong alliance between your father’s gang and his so that he could be, or at the very least appear, stronger than the Mins and Parks. You were nothing more than a path to more power and, aside from upholding his responsibilities as a husband, he would treat you as such.

As the priest continued to drone on, Jungkook continued to analyse your form. He watched your eyes stay focused on the priest before they strayed, hesitantly landing on Jungkook for a split second. When you noticed his gaze already on you, a small squeak sounded from your lips before you quickly shifted your focus forward. With the bouquet of flowers now hanging from Taehyung’s hand, your own fingers were clasped awkwardly in front of you. 

You were apparently everything Taehyung had painted you as earlier, Jungkook thought. Your makeup and mannerisms had an air of exaggerated innocence, while your body language was shy and sheepish. He had no problem imagining you as a weak girl that was so traumatised by the death of your first husband that you couldn’t utter a single word the following month. 

The priest turned to the seated crowd, beckoning anyone that had an issue with the marriage to step forward and speak their mind. Just as Jungkook expected, no one dared make a stand, preferring to cherish the connection between their head and neck instead. Following the silence, you and Jungkook were made to stand facing each other.

Your gaze was fixed on his collar, seemingly too shy to meet Jungkook’s eyes. It only confirmed his suspicions regarding your confidence, or lack thereof. 

Yet, despite your evidently timid nature and lack of intelligence, Jungkook couldn’t help but experience an uncanny feeling lingering at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was his untrusting nature, or maybe he had just been forced to over analyse you during the long and boring sermon. But he could have sworn that there was something about you. Just… something about the way you had trouble meeting his gaze yet seemed to have no problem in scanning Taehyung up and down. For a fraction of a moment, the look in your eyes was almost calculated, as if you had been assessing him. But just as fast as Jungkook thought he saw it, the look disappeared, replaced by a timid and shy gaze once again. It left him questioning whether he had even seen it in the first place, or whether he was letting paranoia see things that weren’t there. 

Finally, the priest turned to the two of you and made you both say your vows outloud. They were the standard vows, Jungkook and you putting no effort in creating a confession that you both knew was ingenuine. Instead, the two of you repeated after him, answering “I do” when the time was right. Jungkook was glad that, despite your seemingly ditzy nature, you hadn’t requested any giant romantic gestures. According to your father, you had even had no problem with Jungkook requesting that there be no kiss at the altar. It made his life a lot easier and truthfully made this entire situation a lot less awkward.

To Jungkook’s relief, the priest finally addressed the crowd once more, ending the sermon on a final note filled with hope and prosperity. He spoke about how the marriage would strengthen the two mafias, mitigating worries relating to attacks from enemies that may wish to harm them. Jungkook had already expected this part of the speech, as he had been the one to tell the priest to say those exact words. 

At the end of the sermon, Jungkook and you were made to walk down the aisle back to where he knew his expensive car was waiting. He turned to you, looping his arm around yours so that you wouldn’t fall again, and guided you down the steps slowly. He noticed that your every step was still wobbly and he could feel your hand shaking as you placed it on his bicep to steady yourself further. But this time, with the veil now draped behind you, he could see the distress in your face as well. Your eyes were wide as you took in the crowd surrounding you, looking as naive as Taehyung had made you out to be. 

Jungkook tried to remind himself of Taehyung’s words. About how you had barely been able to pass high school and then completely dropped out of university a month in. About how your style consisted of pink and frilly clothes that didn’t have much place in the mafia. About how, at this moment, you seemed almost scared of the crowd and attention. 

A girl like that was shy and naive and ditzy. Aside from being slightly irritating, that meant you couldn’t be much of a threat to him or anyone else. If anything your incompetence would be a threat to your own self. Jungkook had nothing to worry about when it came to you. 

So he tried not to be unsettled. 

He tried not to be unsettled by the fact that, despite your apparently innocent and weak nature, your fingers were gripping into his bicep so hard he would no doubt wake up with a bruise tomorrow morning. 

He tried not to be unsettled by the way your shy gaze, which stayed fixed on the floor, would sometimes stray upwards to almost study the crowd around you before quickly darting back to the ground. 

He tried not to be unsettled when you looked up at him to give him a bashful smile, one that the logical part of him agreed looked sweet and innocent enough.

Yet, why did another part of him wonder whether there had been something else lurking behind those seemingly innocent eyes?

-

-

-

The only thing that Jungkook had learned about you from the car ride was that your voice was as light and soft as your appearance. 

The ride in his black car decorated with gleaming small white roses and ribbons had been mostly silent, the two of you making no effort to start a conversation. Jungkook had never been one for small talk, more than content to let Taehyung talk for hours instead. The reason for your lack of conversation, though, was unknown to him. 

It was only when he was speeding through the highway that you had spoken to request that he slow down a bit. Your voice had been soft and timid, as if you were scared that Jungkook would lash out at you for the simple request. Or maybe that was just the way you spoke. Considering your personality, Jungkook wouldn’t find that too hard to believe.

Now the two of you walked through the entrance of his home, your eyes taking in the grandeur of it all. Despite its vastness, Jungkook felt that this was where he felt the most comfortable: between the white and fawn walls, the elaborately designed bannisters, and the creme marble floors. His home had remained the only constant in his life and, because of that, he cherished it immensely. 

There were only a few people that Jungkook had allowed inside, all of whom were people that he trusted with his life. This was the first time, he realised, that someone outside of those few was stepping foot onto the marble floor and laying their eyes on the spiralling staircase. It was an odd feeling, allowing you to enter into what he felt was the only place that truly allowed his mind and body to relax. 

He observed your reaction curiously, taking in your wide eyes. They bounced from one thing to the next, each structure seeming to fascinate you more and more. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were assessing the space, but the logical part of him kept trying to reassure himself that you couldn’t possibly be considered any kind of threat. 

The sound of the door opening behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around to find Taehyung walking through the doorway, a particular look on his face. Jungkook recognised it right away, causing him to turn to you for a moment while calling over one of the maids. 

“Get her to the bedroom,” Jungkook commanded the maid as Taehyung stepped beside him, “and help her take off her makeup and dress into something comfortable.”

The maid nodded before she began to guide you up the flight of stairs, pointing out a few directions here and there to get you comfortable with the new environment. Jungkook watched you look back at him and Taehyung for a split second, an unreadable look in your eyes, before you faced forward once again and allowed yourself to be dragged away wordlessly. 

Once you had disappeared up the stairs, Jungkook turned to Taehyung with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” He prodded. 

Taehyung glanced at the top of the stairs to make sure you really were gone, “I should be asking you that. What do you think of her?”

Jungkook mulled over his question for a moment, “she seems to be everything you said she is. Although, are you sure-”

“She is one hundred percent twenty three years old. I triple checked that one,” Taehyung said immediately, hands up in a gesture of surrender. 

Jungkook let his hands nestle into his pockets, wondering if he should bring up his other concerns as well. Uptil now, you haven’t actually done or said anything worth garnering suspicion. Jungkook just seemed to be picking up on small things here and there, but he wasn’t sure if those things were just him being paranoid or genuinely things that he should be cautious over. This whole marriage thing was proving to be a lot more confusing than he had initially thought. 

“What is it?” Taehyung asked, noticing his friend’s silence. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, but, after earning a questioning look from Taehyung, he relented slightly. 

“How well of a background check did your parents do on her?” Jungkook asked cautiously. He didn’t want Taehyung to know too much of how he was feeling at the moment, in case this was just his mind being overactive, but something in Taehyung’s expression seemed to indicate that he knew a lot more than what Jungkook was letting on. 

“They did a very thorough one, of course,” Taehyung said, eyeing Jungkook knowingly, “you know my parents. If there’s one thing that they’re the best at, it’s uncovering people’s secrets.”

Then he added with a smile, “couldn’t get away with much while growing up because of it.”

Jungkook let his gaze wander around the room, “I just…”

“You’re just suspicious of her,” Taehyung finished, causing Jungkook to look his way, “of course you’re suspicious Jungkook, you’re letting a girl that you’ve never even met before into your house for the first time. It’s a natural reaction, especially considering how untrusting we’ve been conditioned to be since we were young.”

Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the back reassuringly, “I was the exact same way when I married Chaewon. Hell, in our first year of being married I even accused her of being a traitor when she was planning a surprise party for my birthday. When she finally told me… man, it took me a whole year to make it up to her. On another note, from a married man to a newly married man, don’t accuse your wife of anything unless you’re a hundred and ten percent sure of it. Otherwise you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, causing Taehyung to laugh.

“Besides, have you seen Y/N? She’s so shy and naive, her own reflection in the mirror must frighten her. I doubt you have anything to worry about, especially after my parents’ background check. Just enjoy yourself, man, it’s your wedding night,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk. 

Obviously ignoring the suggestive comment, Jungkook nodded, finding logic in Taehyung’s other words. Jungkook had never been married, all of this was new to him. But if Taehyung, who had been married for almost a decade, said feelings like this were normal, then maybe he really was just being overly paranoid about the situation. You’d had a thorough background check done, which revealed nothing, and your personality was quite clear to Jungkook after he’d observed you at the wedding. 

It was time Jungkook started trying to enjoy this marriage as much as he could. He was going to be stuck with you indefinitely, and constantly being suspicious of you was only going to wear him out, especially since you now had access to the only place he allowed himself to be free of the constantly vigilant and calculating mind that came with being the leader of the Jeons. 

Jungkook turned to Taehyung, about to thank him for the insight, but the sound of the door opening once again caused the two to shift their gaze to behind them. The sight of the man walking through the doorway immediately had Jungkook wrinkling his nose in distaste while Taehyung’s expression had become a distant neutral. The man didn’t seem to mind the reactions if he noticed them, casually strolling deeper into the house until he was standing before the two. 

“Jungkook, Taehyung,” Daehyun nodded, the respectful gesture somehow seeming more disrespectful if anything. He had clearly just come back from the wedding, still wearing his black suit and light brown hair styled back, “you just got married, yet I see only Taehyung and no bride. Shall I assume the two of you are running away together?”

The tasteless joke was followed by a deep laugh, one that belonged to neither Jungkook nor Taehyung. Instead they just stared at him with an unamused scowl.

“Relax, it’s only a joke,” he shook his head, gaze wandering the place casually, “I doubt your wife and kid would like the thought of that anyway.”

Taehyung’s jaw ticked at Daehyun’s words. Even if he hadn’t directly threatened or disrespected them in any way, just the mention of his family from his mouth was enough for Taehyung’s gaze to turn icy.

“Careful Daehyun, you’re standing before two mafia leaders,” Taehyung said, voice low and intimidating, “I would be less casual in our presence if I were you.”

To Taehyung and Jungkook’s dismay, Daehyun simply chuckled, “ah yes, but Jungkook and I are cousins. He’ll cut me some slack, won’t he?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, even after Daehyun gave his arm a lighthearted punch. Daehyun was the cousin that Jungkook could never be rid of, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was slimy and tactless and everything Jungkook hated rolled into one unbearable being. Having to give him access to his home, his only place of peace, had been one of the hardest things to do. But at the time, Jungkook had had to make sacrifices and this had been one of them. 

Daehyun, undeterred by his cousin’s lack of response, leaned his arm on Jungkook’s shoulder casually, “congratulations by the way. When I saw your wife’s face- god did she look young! You’re so lucky man, I hope my future wife turns out like that.”

Jungkook grimaced as he suddenly felt the desire to wipe off any remnants of Daehyun’s touch from his suit. Daehyun had attended the same university as Taehyung and Jungkook, yet he had evidently obtained none of the class that they had. Everyday he wondered how the two of them could possibly be related. For the sake of Jungkook’s mental wellbeing, sometimes he liked to imagine Daehyun had actually been adopted and his parents had simply decided not to share that piece of information. 

“I should get going,” Jungkook said stiffly, brushing his cousin’s arm off his shoulder. He fixed his suit as Daehyung smirked at him, likely thinking of Jungkook’s comment as more suggestive than he had actually meant. 

Jungkook faced Taehyung to give him a curt nod before he turned and began walking up the stairs, not bothering to use the fawn iron bannisters on either side of him. He could hear Taehyung taking his leave through the front door, dragging a complaining Daehyun behind him to Jungkook’s satisfaction. The sound of the front door shutting had never sounded so delightful. 

A silence ensued as Jungkook walked through the hallway upstairs, continuing until he paused in front of his bedroom’s door. He couldn’t hear any noises coming from inside the room, so, with a light knock against the white and fawn wood, his hand wrapped around the handle to turn it and finally push the door open. 

The windows displayed an almost set sun, coating the atmosphere in a blanket of dimness. Everything about his bedroom had been changed. His once dark brown and white bed had been switched out for a cream and fawn coloured one, with a bouquet of vibrant red roses sitting atop the fancy and plush duvet, while his black leather couches had been replaced by light cloth ones. The ceiling and walls had been painted white, complimenting the new white and fawn patterned marble floor. His old dresser had also disappeared, a cream coloured dresser twice its size sitting in its place instead. 

Aside from the drastic changes that had been made to his bedroom, no doubt to signify the change that came with marriage, the first thing Jungkook noticed was the maid who was drawing the curtains closed. The room would have fallen into complete darkness if it weren’t for the lamps sitting atop the bedside tables which were emanating a warm light around the space. 

The second thing he noticed was you, who was sitting timidly on the edge of the bed and facing him. Your fingers were playing awkwardly in front of you while your gaze had been fixed on the floor, but at the sound of the door opening, your head raised to look at Jungkook. The sight of your face once again caught him off guard, the lack of makeup revealing a different side of you. 

You no longer looked young. Without the innocent look that had been created with the blushes and the eyeliners and the lip glosses, Jungkook could see the mature shape of your eyes and the defined look of your features. You looked your age now, a lot more maturity prominent in your appearance. 

You were pretty. Jungkook could admit that much now that you didn’t resemble a teenager. He wondered why you had done your makeup like that in the first place. He’d been to many weddings before and none of the brides had been made to look so young. Then again, Taehyung had already told him that, on top of looking innocent and naive, you seemed to dress the part as well. 

“Is something wrong?” Your soft voice asked, eyes blinking innocently up at him. 

Jungkook shook his head, motioning for the maid to leave the room. She gave you both a low bow before scurrying out the doorway, making sure to close the door behind her. 

“No,” he finally answered. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if you were expecting anything to happen tonight, or if you even wanted anything to happen for now. 

His gaze lowered as he mulled over his next actions. You had changed out of your wedding dress into a light pink, mesh lace nightgown that came all the way down to your knees with a silk bow stitched into the centre of your chest, as if your clothes were meant to compensate for the lack of makeup dolling up your features. He almost wanted to raise an eyebrow at you, but you seemed much too fragile to be ridiculed. 

Alternatively, he decided to take an experimental step in your direction, surveying your reaction closely. He watched your fingers close tighter around the duvet on which you sat, your gaze hesitantly darting everywhere but him. That was answer enough for him to know how far you were ready to take it tonight. So instead, he passed the bed, opting instead to drop onto the couch on the far end of the room. While he was facing you, you had to turn your head to keep him in your sights. 

“What would you like to do now?” He asked you, resting an arm over the back of the couch while he crossed an ankle over his knee. 

Your gaze dropped to your lap, watching your fingers fidget against each other nervously. It was almost as if having to answer a question like that had you stressed, which again made Jungkook wonder how you had survived growing up in a mafia family. How could you have been this weak?

“I-I don’t know,” you squeaked, not able to meet his gaze. 

Jungkook sighed, turning his head to the side to survey the room. Technically, the two of you could just call it a night and go to sleep. You were clearly too shy to even speak a word to him, and Jungkook had never been one to beg others for things. Only time would tell how well the two of you would get to know each other. 

But then Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the coffee table in front of him, noticing some sort of gift basket placed in its centre. It was obviously a wedding gift, filled with chocolates, scented candles, roses… and some wine and champagne. Jungkook has always been more of a whiskey guy, but right now he’d take just about anything. 

“Why don’t we have a drink?” He suggested, uncrossing his leg so that he could lean forward and grab the top of the expensive-looking bottle of red wine. He prayed you weren’t one of those people that didn’t drink, your innocent personality couldn’t possibly extend all the way to drinking as well. 

You paused for a moment, taking in the bottle in Jungkook’s hand, before slowly nodding your head, to Jungkook’s relief. 

He beckoned you over with his free hand, “come here.”

You hesitated before slowly pushing yourself off the bed and took small steps towards him. Jungkook waited patiently until you were standing right in front of the couch, hands clasped shyly in front of you while your gaze stayed glued to the floor. He held up the bottle of wine and champagne in front of you, hoping you weren’t so dumb that you wouldn’t understand the question in his actions. Thankfully you studied the two bottles before a shaky hand raised and tapped against the bottle of champagne. 

He pushed the bottle in your direction, forcing you to take it in your own hands, before standing up from the couch. The unexpected action seemed to scare you, causing you to immediately take a timid step backwards while you hugged the bottle to your chest. Jungkook had to suppress a tired, and maybe even slightly annoyed sigh, as he manoeuvred past you. He was trying to be patient, but this was becoming ridiculous. 

“You get that open while I wash up,” he said to you, pointing at the bottle still pressed to your chest, “okay?”

You nodded slowly, allowing him to turn away from you and walk into the joint bathroom. Once the door was closed behind him he let out the sigh he had suppressed earlier. You really were… something. He couldn’t believe he had been suspicious of you earlier when you could barely even function properly, much less be any sort of threat. It was irritating, Jungkook felt, to have someone so incompetent for a wife. He wondered if he would have to break you out of that shell. You were the wife of a mafia leader now after all, you had to keep up at least some air of confidence in the presence of others so that you didn’t make him look weak. 

Jungkook walked over to the sink and turned it on, splashing some cold water on his face before he began brushing his teeth. You were far from his ideal type, and he doubted this marriage would ever stem into whatever Taehyung and Chaewon had going on. Hell, he was wondering how the two of you could ever even produce an heir. You’d probably spontaneously combust if he even tried to touch you. And besides, he didn’t really want to touch you if he was being honest. You reminded him too much of a weak and helpless child, which was obviously a huge turn off. He may have been a mafia leader, but he wasn’t a complete monster. 

Jungkook placed his toothbrush into the holder after spitting into the sink, drying himself off with one of the towels hanging near him. He was about to start changing into more comfortable clothes, only getting as far as unbuttoning the first few buttons of his black collar shirt, before a crashing sound rang from the bedroom. In less than a second he had pushed out of the bathroom, immediately scanning the bedroom before him as his hand automatically sought out the gun at his side. 

It took him a moment to realise the lack of intruders in the room, and then another to take in your completely unharmed form. You were standing with your hands covering your mouth, looking down at the ground. Jungkook followed your gaze to find the champagne bottle rolling along the marble floor, still entirely intact. You had clearly dropped the thing accidentally, causing Jungkook to place his gun back in his waistband.

“I’m s-so sorry,” you squeaked, bending down quickly to pick up the bottle. Suppressing a huff, Jungkook walked over to you to take it from your hands. 

“Here, let me do it,” he said, taking two of the crystal champagne flutes from the gift basket and placing them on the glass coffee table as he sat himself down on the couch, distantly annoyed at the fact that you couldn’t even pour a glass of champagne by yourself. Was this seriously what he was going to have to deal with from now on?

He tipped the bottle, filling both glasses to the brim with the bubbling liquid as you hesitantly sat yourself down on the couch to his left. His gaze fell on you as he was about to offer you one of the flutes, but paused when he noticed the look on your face. For the first time since he met you, you looked almost… excited. Usually your eyes would be downturned and focused on the floor, but this time they were fixed on the crystal glasses before you as if you were eager to taste the expensive liquid. Jungkook made a note of it, tucking it into the back of his mind for later. 

“Take one,” he said as he motioned towards one of the glasses, but to his surprise you hesitantly shook your head. Your expression had turned timid once again, any hint of excitement from earlier entirely gone. He narrowed his eyes at you as he wondered if he had just imagined it. It had barely been there anyway. 

“I don’t drink,” you said in your signature soft tone, not able to meet his gaze. Of course you don’t, Jungkook thought irritatedly, god forbid the princess touch a glass of champagne. He knew the thought was immature, but there was no way he was the most immature person in the room at the moment. 

He pushed himself off the couch, very much aware that his patience was starting to wear thin, “well then I guess we should call it a night.”

But before he could step towards the bed, your hand shot out, clutching the edge of his sleeve with your fingers. He immediately looked down at your still seated form, a question in his eyes. You had to look away for a moment, seemingly collecting your nerves, before you met his gaze once again. 

“Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t,” you said, “I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because of me. Please stay.”

Jungkook noticed the evident guilt in your eyes as your fingers continued to stay enclosed around the edge of his sleeve. When he didn’t move, you hesitantly leaned forward to gently pick up one of the glasses and then slowly presented it to him. His gaze shifted to the glass in your hand, pausing for only a moment, before he took it from you. He let himself sink back onto the couch as he studied you. 

You continued to sit in your spot on the sofa, posture still timid. Your gaze bounced from one part of the floor to the next, while your expression remained shy. But there was something else lurking behind the expression. If Jungkook focused well enough, he could have sworn the edges of your lips were turned slightly upwards. It was so faint that it might have not even been there, but the more he focused, the more prominent it became to him. 

A naive part of him might have thought it was from being successful in getting him to stay and have the drink, but the more logical part of him had already latched onto an idea, one that refused to be swept to the side any longer. 

His gaze lowered to your collarbone, a glint from the heart-shaped necklace resting over your soft skin catching his attention. Unlike earlier, he noticed that the metal heart was actually a locket, and that its two sides were slightly open. It couldn’t have been ajar by more than a millimetre, but Jungkook still noted it down in his mind.

His gaze then ascended to your face, still a perfect picture of innocence. Your eyes were widened to resemble a curious doe, while your lips were pulled into a timid line. The hands resting in your lap fumbled with each other shyly, really completing the look. 

Finally, his gaze dropped to the drink in his hand. He brought it closer to his face, as if he were about to take a sip, before eyeing the expensive liquid. His gaze fixed on the miniscule bubbles that continued travelled from the bottom of the flute to its surface, causing it to sizzle.

Jungkook slowly leaned forward, keeping his eye on his drink as he brought it away from his lips and instead calmly set it down on the coffee table before him. He then easily pushed himself off of the couch, which caused your brows to jump. There was an apparent question in your expression, one you decided to voice out loud. 

“Is something wrong with the drink?” You asked, voice still soft as your doe eyes looked up at him through your lashes. 

Ignoring the question, Jungkook placed a hand on the edge of the coffee table and slowly pushed it forward so that it was farther away from your seated form. The action caused you to blink. 

“Is everything okay?” You tried again slowly.

But Jungkook then faced you, assessing you for a moment, before he took a few steps in your direction. You had to crane your neck upwards to continue meeting his gaze, his tall form towering over your seated one. This time your brows pulled together, eyes still doe-like, as you continued to question his actions. 

“Jungko-”

Jungkook didn’t let you finish. The second you opened your mouth his large hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your neck, slamming your head into the seat of the couch. You squeaked at the sudden violence, immediately clawing at the fingers now enclosed around your throat. But your efforts were nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s iron hold. 

“J-Jungkook, you’re h-hurting me!” You let out a choked cry, continuing to put up a weak fight against Jungkook. Tears had already started to coat your eyes and run down your cheeks, but Jungkook ignored them completely. He watched you struggle, fascinated by the way you thrashed around like an animal yet every jab at him was weak and ineffective. There was no sign of the strength he had noticed when you had grabbed onto his bicep earlier, so hard that he was sure it would leave a bruise. It was enough to make him grin.

Jungkook lowered his face so that his lips neared your ear, his body still hovering over your smaller form. 

“If you wanted to kill me princess, you’ll have to do a better job than that,” he said, voice low. Your eyes widened even further as you continued to struggle against him, making pitiful noises that didn’t move him in the slightest. 

“K-Kill?! What are y-you talking about?!” You continued to choke out as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your hands had moved to his chest, desperately trying to push him away, yet failing miserably in the process. Jungkook tilted his head at your weak plea, eager to hear what other ways you’d beg him to let you go.

 “P-please-” You began, but then cut yourself off abruptly when your tear-filled gaze met his. You must have seen something in his eyes, because he felt your body slacken, no longer desperate to fight him despite his hold on your neck cutting off your lung’s supply of air. 

Instead you studied him, really studied him. He could see the same calculated look you had used on Taehyung earlier during the wedding. It was as if you were assessing Jungkook, picking out his strengths and weaknesses to figure out how you could use them to your advantage. He watched you weigh options in your head patiently before you finally tilted your head to the side calmly and shot him a look. In response, Jungkook decided to loosen his grip on your throat. He watched you catch your breath for a moment before you spoke. 

“Well, you’re already smarter than the first one,” you commented, but your voice was entirely different. It was no longer soft and timid, rather it was a lot more deep and confident. He watched your expression change in the same manner. Your once wide and innocent looking eyes narrowed into a more matured look, while your lips straightened into more of a dangerously amused grin than a naive pout. 

Then he processed your words. The ‘first one’ had to be your first husband, who Taehyung had explained had been killed on his wedding day. Taehyung had mentioned that a rival gang had been the one to murder him, but the actual one responsible for his death was clear to Jungkook now. 

“Do you make it a hobby to poison your husbands’ drinks on their wedding nights?” He asked, hand still wrapped around your throat. He had situated himself between your legs, his own leg pushing one of yours against the back of the couch while his free hand pushed the other down against the seat of the couch. The position ensured you wouldn’t be able to kick him, while his body hovering over your own seemed to take care of the rest of you. You were smart enough not to try anything anyway, knowing Jungkook’s strength was incomparable to yours.

You shrugged, panting at the limited oxygen entering your lungs, “golf just wasn’t cutting it for me anymore.”

“Golf? How can a weak and helpless girl like you play such a sport?” Jungkook couldn’t help but quip, bordering on mocking you. It only made you grin, clearly no hint of offence in your expression. 

He studied your nonchalant demeanour curiously. You had tried to kill him, and he should send your head back to your father’s doorstep for it. And yet, you couldn’t have looked any less composed with his hand around your neck. Either you were a complete idiot, which seemed much less likely now that he was starting to see your real character, or you believed you had the upper hand in this situation. 

“You’re quite calm for someone I should have killed,” he noted, meaning for it to be a threat. But once again you didn’t seem deterred. In fact, the comment seemed to amuse you even more. 

“Just because you should have me killed doesn’t mean you’ll actually have me killed.”

Jungkook’s brow raised, finding an opportunity to prod you further, “and why won’t I have you killed? Your father sent you here to kill me under the pretence of an alliance. I should start a war for this.”

You nodded, “but you see, my father did send me here to form an alliance. The whole killing you idea was all mine.”

Jungkook scoffed at the lame attempt at a lie, “you expect me to believe that?”

But you scoffed as well, meeting his gaze just as vehemently. It was an odd sight considering you had spent the entire day trying to make yourself small and avoiding his gaze. Yet here you were now, eyes ablaze like a thrashing fire. Not a spontaneously violent fire either, no Jungkook could very easily handle that. You were more like an electrical fire. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he had to be cautious around you, and that trusting any word that came out of your mouth was dangerous. 

“Prove it then,” he challenged, tightening his hold on your neck for a moment to remind you of your vulnerability. 

“I don’t need to prove anything,” you said, a hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, “just go ahead and mention to my father that I’m not a complete airhead that’s afraid of her own shadow. He’ll laugh in your face and call you a moron.”

The revelation that your father was just as clueless about your true self as everyone else only confirmed his initial thoughts. It also proved he couldn’t have trusted you to carry out an assassination attempt, meaning your father really did genuinely want an alliance with the Jeons. That was perfect, because Jungkook had certain plans that relied on this partnership. It was a relief that they hadn’t gone to waste.

“If it wasn’t your father’s idea, then why did you poison my drink?” He asked with a raised brow. 

Silence filled the room following his question, one that allowed you both to hear the sounds of the wall clock. He got the feeling that you were contemplating something once again, planning out your next move.

Then you squirmed underneath him, seemingly getting comfortable, but Jungkook knew better than to believe whatever you appeared as. The second your hand went for the gun wedged in his waistband, he grabbed your wrist, pining it against the couch, while the hand that had been around your throat pulled out the matte black weapon. He slowly brought it to your temple with an amused grin.

“If you wanted it so badly, you could have just asked,” he taunted, bringing the gun down so that its barrel lifted your chin, “now, I asked a question princess.”

You huffed, your amusement finally falling to give him a half-hearted glare.

“I want a divorce.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the laugh that sounded from his lips at your straightforwardness. You just tried to kill him, it didn’t take a genius to work out that you weren’t a fan of this marriage and wanted out of it. 

It was an arranged marriage after all, and even though all arranged marriages didn’t equal a forced marriage, technically he couldn’t be certain that this marriage was of your own choice or not. For all he knew, you had some secret lover waiting for you back home, your marriage with Jungkook coming between the star crossed romance. The thought made his jaw tick. He was far from in love with you, but Jungkook tended to be territorial about what was his. And you were his wife at the moment. 

You, on the other hand, seemed surprised by his reaction, as if it was the last thing you expected him to do.

“I mean you obviously want one now too, right?” You asked with your brows furrowed.

Jungkook didn’t respond, and that only seemed to make you more agitated.

“I’m not the wife that you want. You clearly can’t stand me when I have my ditzy front pulled up and you can’t trust me when I don’t.”

Although the points that you were making were true, there was one important factor you were missing, and that was the alliance between the Jeons and the Lees. Jungkook needed this alliance to, at the very least make himself seem like, he was more powerful than the Parks and the Mins. And with their recent moves -with what he saw at the docks just last night- he needed this alliance now more than ever. So while he normally would have had you executed and then sent your head to your father’s doorstep for your little assassination attempt, this time he was going to have to sweep his pride to the side.

Jungkook placed his free hand next to your head as he pushed himself up, choosing instead to stay standing in front of the sofa. His intense gaze dropped to your still form while his gun hung from his fingers firmly. 

“No,” he finally said, causing your brows to jump. 

You quickly pushed yourself off the couch to stand just as he was, but Jungkook didn’t move. With the sofa right behind you, barring you from taking a few steps back, that left you and him standing dangerously close to each other. The bow from your nightgown pressed against his partly unbuttoned black collar shirt, while its edge grazed his dress pants. Jungkook could feel the heat of your breath raise goosebumps from his exposed collarbone. 

“Why not? I’m not the wife that you want.”

He smiled at the bite in your words, finding your frustration amusing, “you’ve got it all wrong. I simply wanted a wife to make the Lees allies, nothing more.”

Like a fire set alight, your eyes flashed in anger, “I won’t change. I’ll still be your idiot wife that will make you look weak.”

It was true that most wives of mafia leaders were strong and confident beings, symbols of their husbands’ power, and that having a wife like you may be a slightly risky choice. But Jungkook was sure his carefully established reputation could take the hit. Besides, although you might make him look weak, your marriage with him would make him far from actually weak. 

“You think divorcing you won’t make me look weak?” Jungkook decided to say, unsure of if he was saying it to play with you more or to make sure you don’t believe your threats are inconveniencing him, “you’ve fooled everyone with your ditzy facade. A divorce will make them think I wasn’t able to tame a naive girl. You think people will accept me as a leader then?”

You didn’t react to the point, giving him the feeling that you might have already known that might pose an issue for him. Perhaps you thought his reputation could take the hit? When Jungkook really thought about it, it probably could have. He’d worked hard to be both feared and respected for years, a divorce like this, while questionable in the eyes of the people under him, could have been pushed under the rug given time. But the alliance was too important to him. 

And that was something he needed to make sure you knew. 

“That means you will continue to be my wife,” he settled, lowering his gaze so that it met yours with unwavering finality, “so you’ll continue to act like it.”

Jungkook felt his voice naturally lower, a hint of a threat evident in his tone, “listen to me well, Y/N. I don’t care if you act like the dumbest woman on Earth or the most sultry. Regardless, what you will act like is my wife. When we’re outside of this bedroom, we will laugh together, we will hug each other, and we will do whatever other damn thing married couples do so that no one doubts this relationship.”

“And if I don’t?” You bit, the speed of your reply making his jaw tick. 

“If you don’t, you can stay locked in this bedroom until you learn how to behave. Understood?”

Your rage couldn’t have been more prominent, with a fierce glare burning right through him and a pair of fisted hands at your sides. Yet Jungkook ignored it all, instead meeting your gaze coolly as he waited for your confirmation. 

It took a long moment to come, so long that Jungkook thought it wasn’t going to come at all. But eventually he noticed you nod your head. It was barely a movement, your head tipping down slightly before resuming its earlier place, but it was enough for him despite your unwavering glare. 

He finally took a few steps back, thrusting the barrel of his gun once again into the waistband of his pants. Your angry form, on the other hand, didn’t move, opting instead to stand perfectly still despite your calves pressing into the sofa behind you. Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, brushing the strands that had fallen onto his forehead away from his face.

“Good, then we’re done here.”

He finally turned away from you, eyeing the door on his left intently. But before he could move towards it, your words made him pause.

“I just tried to kill you,” you commented before he turned to question its randomness. He found you sitting on the sofa once again, an eerily thoughtful look lurking behind your rage-filled eyes, “how will you know I won’t do it again?”

Jungkook tilted his head in response. 

“You can try all you want, princess,” he said, liking the feeling of that nickname on his tongue more and more. It was almost addicting, “but you won’t succeed.”

Then his lips curled into a sly smirk, “after all, what kind of husband would I be if I barred my wife from her hobbies?”

He was able to just barely catch the roll of your eyes before he turned and pushed through the door he had been eyeing earlier, his hands automatically locking it behind him as he casually surveyed his office. The room had been spared from the new gleaming white and fawn furniture which had taken over his bedroom. Instead, it was filled with familiar dark brown.

Refined dark oak wood shelves and cabinets lined the walls except for the wall behind his large desk, which was made up entirely of a bookshelf filled to the brim with various hardcovers. For the sake of matching with the rest of the house, the marble floor had been done a light fawn colour, while another wall was made up of bulletproof glass, its centre having the ability to slide open to reveal a decent sized balcony. 

Jungkook shrugged off his blazer as he made his way to his desk, laying the piece of cloth over the back of his black leather chair, before he opened the glass cabinet behind it. He didn’t need to think much as his fingers expertly curled around an expensive bottle of whiskey and a crystal glass. Before he knew it, he found himself standing outside on his balcony overlooking his estate, one hand holding the crystal glass filled halfway with light brown liquid while the other clutched the iron railing. 

His gaze bounced around his estate for a peaceful moment as he took a sip from his glass, taking in the expanse of the luscious green field bordering the neatly done driveway despite the darkness of the night. In its centre was an intricately designed white fountain spewing water in four different directions, but all of which emptied systematically into the white basin at its base. The estate itself stretched for metres, the gates enclosing the space barely visible from where he was standing. Jungkook’s thoughts bounced around his head just as quickly as his gaze. 

What a day it had been. At first, you’d been a complete idiot, one that had irritated him to no extent with your doe eyes and evident shyness. 

But then you had turned out to be an entirely different species, far from the innocent and ditzy girl he’d labelled you as. You were cunning and feisty and seemingly very much ready for a divorce. 

Jungkook felt the corners of his lips pull upwards into a grin as he took another sip of his whisky.

You were quite the enigma.

But he was going to enjoy the challenge.  

A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave you (Pt.79)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: It's Hoseok's turn to breed you through your heat, but Namjoon won't let him have it easily.

Tags: Group sex, Sub! m/c, Dom! Namjoon, Sub! Hobi, d/s, threesome, comparing knots, Cumplay, size kink, big dick Namjoon, womb fucking, belly bulge, slight inflation kink, breeding kink, clit torture if you squint, overstimulation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, inspection kink, humiliation kink, implied cuckolding, very brief human furniture, puppy play, puppy space Hobi, collars, dominance displays, brief angst, filthy sex becomes lovey dovey, porn without plot.

W/c: 12.0k

A/n: ahhhhh here it is <3 the second part of last chapter that i split last minute <3 more filth but at least it's Hobi filth <3 keep your eyes wide open on the ending! this one is a bit of a cliffhanger <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Namjoon doesn’t stop fucking you for most of the second day. It’s kind of…eerie, the quiet that takes over while the pack alpha takes you apart.

Jin and Jungkook got fucked through the night while you slept but now that you’re awake and the others are asleep, Namjoon tends to you diligently. Possessive. It is in the nature of any alpha, under the effects of their instincts, to covet an omega.

That doesn't make it any easier for the other alpha's to sit aside and wait.

It would be easier if they could sleep. But the alpha’s can’t, kept awake by your hormones on the air, the sensitive heat hush that covers them thick and sweet. They almost circle you like prey.

Namjoon is not entirely heartless. He lets Jimin lick and lap at what you can’t keep in between your second and third knotting (if only because Namjoon can't knot you and devour you at the same time). Namjoon cums a lot when he knots, a hot flood that leaves you feeling warm and claimed. Cozy even. Sticky and wet and hot soaking your insides until you’re full.

Namjoon’s knot is so big and you are so tiny. None of them are surprised when your stomach starts to look a little bloated. A little pregnant already.

The whole pack can't help but salivate after it, your tummy bulge. hands roaming, appreciative and gentle.

What can't fit slides out after Namjoon knots. Big globs of it, spilling and squishing regardless of your panic. Your instincts tell you that you can't let any of it go to waste. But it's inevitable. You can hardly clench down anymore. It turns your your lap sticky and messy when he fucks you. Trails of cum sticking to your ass when Namjoon presses flush. So much cum, so much spend that it leaves you ruined.

Tae is unapologetically into it, petting over your stomach and cooing at your mess any chance that Namjoon lets her. Any time he lets her get near. A little territorial. Growling at her when she gets a little bit too much.

“Look pup, alpha’s already gotten you pregnant, so fucked up you’re already swollen. How about here?" She paws at your sensitive chest, and you are too weak to push at her. perilous against the lightning bolts of pleasure that zing through your being as she plays with you. Hobi still holds your hand and feels your heartbeat, bunny fast against his fingertips.

He’s doing good, waiting for Namjoon to give him the go-ahead. (Waiting for his master to give him his turn. Staying like a good puppy.)

“Should we try and see if you’re already making milk?”

You whine as Tae bites and sucks at your chest and Namjoon keeps fucking you. Until your nipples are pink and bitten and swollen from the attention. Nipples harder, whole chest looking bigger than usual.

It must just be the heat, surely.

Tae likes to suck. It soothes both of you while the pack alpha knots you, his knotting long and drawn out. Your hormones are thick and heady on the air. Hobi's pretty sure they're all close to knotting, will knot the air if Namjoon doesn't let them have a turn soon.

But Namjoon is greedy with you in heat. Let's the others stew and wait their turn. Neither Jimin nor Tae touch so Hobi doesn't touch either even though he's straining at the fabric of his boxers.

No sooner has his knot gone down than is he fucking you again. Cock never flagging, even if Namjoon is ever so slightly starting to look tired. You stay like that, a willing doll.

You like being the pack's little omega doll, their nest warmer, their breeding bitch (not that Namjoon would ever call you that, and any alpha that did would get the punishment of the lifetime) But you take all of it, all of his cum. Let him put you through your paces no matter how full you get.

Your entrance is pink and wrecked when he does bother to take it out and show the rest of the pack how he’s bred you. Putting his fingers in and showing them how pink you are on the inside. The way his cum gushes out, especially when someone bothers to pay attention to your clit or ghost their fingers lower over your other hole.

You let them touch you, let them explore. Cuddled up on Hobi's chest. His arms around your back, protecting you a little, soothing your little whines as you teethe on his scent gland as gently as you can. You seem to like doing that. Fixating on Hobi's scent when the others are being particularly mean. Like you need something to settle you. His cock pressed between your stomach and his, close just like you need.

Without Yoongi awake, Hoseok is the next best thing. You wish you could speak; wish you could tell him that. Hoseok is not small but compared to Namjoon… it couldn't hurt anymore right?

You wish you could talk, wish could tell Namjoon that you could probably fit both at once! You're a good pup! And you like Hobi…and Taetae and Minnie and Joonie. It's hard so hard to choose.

It's a good thing you're not in control right now or else you might try and do something stupid like take all of them at once. You have three holes and 4 alphas; the math doesn't really work. You have approximately 3 fully functional brain cells right now. (For all you know, two plus two might as well equal Noodle.)

Your belly bulge is especially noticeable when they shift you onto your hands and knees, Sloshy. Dripping out loud and messy whenever Namjoon pulls out. You can’t keep it all in no matter how hard you try and clench but...namjoon's broken you a little. You tremble, clenching wildly, your body overstimulated and twitchy from so many orgasms.

"Ah poor little pup, did alpha give you too much? Are you too full pup?" But you always shake your head, whining for more.

Thank god for contraceptives. You’d actually get pregnant, no way around it. If Namjoon ever fucked you without one during a heat. Whenever you do decide to have pups it will probably only take one try, Namjoon will probably pup you just because of his length alone, will beat out all the others.

The heat fever gives you amazing daydreams; especially when it spikes particularly high and your brain goes hazy. You imagine it; you on a breeding bench, heat warm and needy just like now. Tied up with pretty little ribbons to keep you still and settled. Yoongi, and Jinnie and Jungkook talking you through it. Each of the alpha is lining up behind you to breed you.

Maybe they'd play rock paper scissors to see who got to go first. To see who got the best odds. They might not even knot you to make it fair. You imagine wearing a plug after to keep all of it safe and snug inside. You imagine the others treating you gingerly and Jinnie petting over your stomach telling you you did a good job, yoongi ducking low to sniff at your stomach and check if you're pupped already. jungkook whining that he wants to be next.

You imagine them cradling you for the next few hours, so gentle and delicate with you, just like they are now (none of what Namjoon does to you is mean or hurts, it feels so good you feel like you're going a bit insane is all, a bit fucked dumb) just to make sure it takes.

Getting pupped outside of a heat is pretty unlikely. You might make them roleplay that with you in the future. Just because you like the idea of it so much. Your brain goes dizzy, and suddenly in your fantasy, it's Jinnie tied up and not you. He'd look so pretty pupped. you'd make him the best best nest.

Namjoon keeps fucking you, nosing at your throat where your purr comes from, loud and rippling. The picture of a satisfied omega, stuck on a half popped knot, heavy with cum and purring.

"Having sweet dreams pup?" He teases. His shoulders feel puffed up, his ego substantially stroked.

Namjoon is a little torturous with the way he keeps the alphas a bay, the way he bends and puts you through your paces. Your heat does not strain Namjoon in the slightest.

He tugs out of you, sitting on his heels. His cock is pink-tipped and wet, hard and big. You are close to sleep, Namjoon can smell it on the edge of your scent. He's just about to turn, just about to ask hoseok if he wants to fuck you to bed when you whine and dig your heals into his hips, urging him back in.

But thats all your capable off. You're so tired. Exhaustion makes you feel like you're going to pass out. But you still want a knot, still need it.

He pulls you up, your body is so limp, so limp, but you do drag yourself onto your knees, hands demurely supporting you between your legs, a universal 'good pup' posture that Hobi finds himself mirroring, watching and waiting. You put your hand to your stomach and hiss at the full feeling. Between your legs, you drip.

A look to the side says and Tae and Jimin are similarly posed. The three of them waiting and at attention. Waiting for the pack alpha to give the others permission. Waiting to see which one he'll select to fuck you next.

But not yet, the pack alpha isn't done with you yet.

He stops for a moment, feeling your forehead, cupping your cheek gently. humming low. You still burn with fever, too high, too much, body not quite there yet. This patch of your heat will probably be the worst, probably be the hottest you'll get. Namjoon can't imagine you getting much warmer to the touch.

If you do. He doesn't want to think of taking you out of this room let alone out of the den. But he will if he has to. They have fever stabilizers and banana bags for hydration at the hospital. You probably need both.

You squirm, and Namjoon's instincts flare.

"Maybe I really have spoiled you too much pup, If you don't want to sleep yet and say you've got enough energy for another knot-" Namjoon taps his thigh. “Why don’t you take your seat little omega, show alpha how much you want it."

You start to whine, to protest as he pulls you up. You are terribly sleepy, and really! too small to take him on your own! But Namjoon's glower is threatening enough that you don't really try to fight it. Your pout cute and your whines go unheard.

You teeter over to him, and he turns you, making you face the rest of the alpha's. He sits back and you hold yourself up on shaky knees, his thighs parted so that you can get close enough that your back is pressed to his chest. Hot and big and powerful behind you.

He's hardly even helping you guide yourself. You hesitate, reaching back blindly for his length. Your hand can't even wrap around it all the way. You teeter, trying to figure out how you want to sit. Holding yourself up just barely, how should you-

Namjoon nudges his cock forward, just barely pressing against your hole, parting you ever so slightly. You gasp, chest heaving. It's just as big and thick as ever. The three other alphas watch you with beady eyes, Jimin jerks in your direction but holds himself back just barely.

Namjoon wiggles his hips, his hand splaying on your hip, gripping the soft swell of your body there. Making you feel his girth, his thickness. His breath is hot on the back of your neck. “Sit on my knot like a good girl now, you liked it so much when Alpha was doing all the work. Come here. Show me how much you like it."

You shuffle, gingerly sitting back and He presses forward. you don't fuck like this like ever. Never are you really in control. Never are you on top, not even with yoongi. you don't know how to set the pace.

When you sit back namjoon's cock doesn't go in like you intend, it slips out and up. Sliding up past your open entrance and up through your messy pussy to nudge your clit and rub. Coating his cock in a mix of slick and cum while he tuts.

You hiccup and settle your hands on his shoulders, trying again and using them to guide you. You find the right position and actually do sit down. Lowering your body onto his cock until your ass hits his thighs.

You shake through the last inch, knees to your chest, and you can't even breathe. Namjoon's so big, it takes your breath away.

Being sat on Namjoon’s cock like this makes your whole body tremble. Full body shudders. He’s so deep like this, so deep that after a few shaky tries, a few moments of trying to grind. You fall, setting your full weight on it, pushing him ever deeper.

You pause, hesitating, crying, breathing.

Namjoon lands a swat over your behind and you jump, whole body shaking. "Move omega,"

"I can't, I can't alpha!" you sob, hands on the nest infront of you, unsure if you're about to start sobbing or squirting or both.

"Poor little dumb puppy, can't even fuck right, I'll show you." Namjoon holds you under your thighs and lifts you up a little, the whole room spins.

"you go up" the nest disappears from underneath you. "and then you go down."

A broken moan shatters from your throat as he lowers you onto his cock. Pleasure hits you like a punch to your gut. A physical blow or an anchor that pulls you under. Makes you sob. It's so much.

But it can't be too much, Namjoon would never give you more than you could handle. Your hole is sensitive but you're not in pain, just desperate to soothe the ache inside of you, an ache that only Namjoon can fix. If alpha's not stopping, then you're alright. You're fine. you repeat that to yourself like a mantra and you find it's mostly true.

Namjoon picks you up and puts you down on his cock a few more times. Then he looks to the others. he summons jimin with a jerk of his chin and the other alpha all but rushes over.

"Jiminie will help you, since you're too far gone to fuck Alpha like you want to. It's my fault, I should have made you learn before I fucked you dumb."

Tae and Hobi almost look scolded at not being chosen. Tae lets out a whine, but a soft growl from Namjoon has her falling quiet. They fight for the opportunity to do this; to help the pack alpha fuck the omega they all want. All of this- every second reinforces the fact that they all know, they all feel in their chests and instincts.

Namjoon's on top. Namjoon's the alpha, the one they all have to listen to. They won't get anything, not a drop of your slick or an inch of relief inside of you- not if he doesn't say so. Not if he doesn't allow it.

You knew Jimin was strong, he carried Jungkook earlier so you shouldn't be so surprised. But you hiccup and try and protest as he picks you up so easily under your thighs, forcing you up and down on Namjoon’s knot like you weigh nothing.

Jerking you close to his chest to get a better grip, altering the angle. You claw and paw at Jimin's shoulders, the back of his neck, his collar jingling against your cheek. Clanging against yours.

Namjoon pauses for a second, there is a latch on the front of jimin's collar and a loop on the front of yours. Namjoon's deft fingers lock you together, keeping you anchored to Jimin.

You are face to face with him as he does it, you feel jimin's deep growl against your front, watching his pupiles dilate. His hands fist in your thighs, holding you hard, holding you steady. You have a feeling you'll have bruises in the shape of his hands on you after this. 

He picks you up, bringing you off of Namjoon's cock, just far enough that his heat hovers just inside.

And then places you back down. Sheathing him inside you in one smooth movement. Letting your body's weight push you down on him. You hiccup and Namjoon feels it from the inside.

It goes like that for what could be minutes or hours, days or seconds. He picks you up and puts you down, fucking you up and down like you're little more than a fleshlight for your alpha.

Maybe it would feel that way if it wasn't for how he kisses at your brow and laps away your tears, mumbling out "Good omega love you so much, love this, so pretty and good for us, so perfect. Our perfect knot slut." Your belly bulge pressed to his stomach, his cock nudging Namjoon’s where it’s inside of you. Not pressing in, but Jimin feels it, the bulge in your stomach pressing against his cock. It's so filthy. The way your eyes roll back.

You don't notice, but Jimin cums against it, from the friction or from everything else. Marking your tummy. Too eager too turned on to stop himself.

"Good pup" you're not quite sure who namjoon's talking too- but it makes you feel warm regardless.

Namjoon guides you to wrap your arms around Jimin's neck, and you rest your head on Jimin’s shoulder. You close your eyes and let the world disappear around you. Narrowing down to the sensations in your body.

The feeling of strong arms holding you. Namjoon's teeth scruffing you dumb. Pleasure bursting like fireworks behind your eyelids. toes curling and head lolling. The hot pain pleasure of his cock splitting you open. The husky words Jimin whispers against your ear.

“That’s it pup just take it, that’s it, I've got you- we’ve got you.”

~-~

When you come too next, you are being absolutely smothered. First by the bodies around you and then by the affection.

Yoongi is running a brush through your hair, detangling it so gently that you hardly feel the tugging, the body in Infront of you is warm and feverish, and the body behind you is strong and muscled.

You pick your head up from Jin’s chest and behind you Jungkook groans. Arms around your waist going tighter. Reluctant to be parted from you.

You want to tell him that there's no one taking you from him, that you are so tired that picking up your head takes a tremendous herculean effort. But you're too tired to speak let alone soothe him. You can taste the fever on the back of your throat and you know you're not out of the woods yet.

Jin was? Feeding you? Licking your face? Grooming you? It's hard to tell just what kind of care he was giving you only that your chest feels open, less tight, less frantic. You feel sore but sated, damp faintly all over. Although you can tell by the way your thighs feel when they move against each other that it's soap, or something sudsy and not slick and cum anymore.

“Ready to join the land of the living pup?” Yoongi teases, fingers running over the nobs of your spine possessively, it’s a bit abnormal for Yoongi. It must be your heat slick making him act like that.

There is also a faint fullness, a plug snug in your hole, keeping what's left in your tummy from spilling out. It's a big plug, you can feel it as you squirm. When your heat fever spikes, you clench down on it and the thickness settles you. It makes you feel stretched out and relaxed, and simulates a knot that never goes down. thats so thoughtful, your pack are so thoughtful cleaning you up but keeping you full.

You lick your lips and rub your nose against Jin's neck. Pressing closer. There is a hand on your chin, making you look up, prying you away from the safe hollow of his throat. Yoongi's eyes are melted chocolate. You rest your cheek against Jin's bare chest and look up at him.

"You kept whining for it."

"I did?" Yoongi kisses your brow.

"Yup. Practically milked Joonie dry, looked like a shriveled old rasin. He needs a good hour but then his dick will stop being broken. You need to eat next, before you take any more." Yoongi's no-nonsense tone is one you're intimately familiar with.

"Okay." You say, feeling small. Voice quiet. Yoongi tugs the brush through your ends.

Speaking of Namjoon Where are the alphas?  You don't feel them next to you, it's not them cuddling you- just your omegas and Yoongi.

Distantly you realize you can hear the alpha's- they're still in the nest, they're just not paying attention to you. You rub your face, your lips against Jin's shoulders. A whine building.

“Tae, no fair! You’re pushing out your hips!”

“I don’t think It works that way Minnie. I've been longer than you for like 10 years-”

You peak over jin's shoulder, tentative, and yoongi sighs. Hormones no longer cloud the air. You must all be between spikes at the same time. You duck back down behind the covers quick. You don't like that your alpha's are arguing, not quite sure what it means.

Both Jin and Yoongi look from them to you.

“Oh my little puppy.”

You sniffle, overwhelmed as Jin bundles you close to his chest. Behind you, Yoongi hums, as close to a purr as his beta body is capable of mating. Jungkook continues to nuzzle into your back completely asleep.

Omega cuddles are exactly what you need. They're so warm. So soft around you. You missed your omegas. You might have been barely a few feet apart from each other. And you’re pretty sure you demanded to hold hands with Yoongi the last time Namjoon knotted you. But you missed them.

You’re not quite sure why you’re crying only that it’s mostly a happy cry as you nuzzle and push your face into his throat. Hiccupping until you calm down. Heats are- intense, but Jin doesn't seem like he's having as much difficulty as you are. 

He's older. He's more experienced. Jin just shushes you. But you can tell he knows it's a good sort of crying, the kind that gets any lingering yuckyness out.

Jin shushes you tucking you under his chin and urging you to press your nose to his scent gland. You rub your lips and nose there over and over again. side to side. Up and down thoroughly covering his skin with your scent. Once your hiccuping, has subsided, and your face has been whipped free from tears. You turn and look.

Your alphas are- maybe they’re wrestling? Their hair certainly looks all messed up, if Tae's hair looks so much like a bird's nest you don’t want to imagine what yours looks like- or looked like- until Jin commanded Yoongi to give you a good ol' omega brushing.

“Was I good? Am I being good?” You ask, Jin pecks your nose, you can tell the heat still isn’t over, a haze on the edge of your vision. Making your words slow and small.

“The best” Jin nuzzles. “Your cute little cunt squirted every single time Joonie knotted you- made the others feel a bit competitive- Jiminie tried to fuck you to get you to do it and only got it half the time. They’re comparing knots now.” Jin says it with a vague tone of annoyance. Crinkling his nose at it.

Yoongi huffs behind you, putting the brush down. “They do this every heat. I don’t know why they expect it to change.”

Your alphas kneel in a circle, each of them standing hard and proud, the knots at the base of their cock’s explored with a giggle. Big hands wandering, knuckles rubbing, grabbing. Hobi sags against Namjoon’s shoulder as the alpha explores him, checking his knot with hungry hands. Did Hobi fuck you? You can't remember. You shift, feeling slick gathering between your thighs as you look.

You think you'd remember it.

You bury your face in Jin's chest again to try and calm your racing heart. But he just hums. "Oh? Getting worked up puppy?" You pick your head up and nod, propping your chin on Jin's shoulder, and go back to watching.

Behind you Jungkook shifts in his sleep his soft omegan cock squishes against your backside, strangely soft. It's comforting to cuddle with them nude like this. To do it without any worry or nagging sense of inadequacy or insecurity. They like where you're soft, it makes you a good cuddler, a good nestmate.

Yoongi does not watch the alphas, Yoongi continues to pet over the top of your head, watching just you.

“Hyung- hyung don’t-"

Namjoon laughs, and Hobi's cock slaps against his stomach. The head of Tae's cock presses against Jimin's in a weird almost kiss, her dress brought up draping Roman-like over her length.

“Let me touch it-“

“If I let you will you promise not to pinch?”

“But you just feel so squishy.”

The head of Hobi's cock bumps against Namjoon’s all pink and velvety. Namjoon’s cock looks impossibly large in Tae's hands. What you can see through their bodies makes your stomach swoop and your scent spike.

Jin noses into your neck, scenting you back until you're trembling and above you, Yoongi watches on hungrily, Jin's teeth nip at the shell of your ear, and your whole-body jumps.

“Should we compare tummies and make them pay attention to us?” Jin offers.

Your answering chirp in approval has 4 heads jerking in your direction.

~-~

Hoseok gets his chance with you when he least expects it.

All of this is routine, the fucking, the food, the love. But challenging Namjoon is not something Hoseok usually does. Not unless he wants to be drawn over the pack alpha's lap for a forceful settling.

Hoseok's settling looks a little different today.

Jimin and Tae finally have something else to fixate on when Jungkook wakes and demands a knot for his hole and another one for his mouth (as cutely as you can picture it). Yoongi of course has a different need of yours that he aims to fix, feeding you sleepy bites while you’re knotted to Namjoon, happy and full in every way with a warm alpha back inside of you. Sitting on Namjoon’s knot easily now that you’re used to it. the plug had done its job of keeping you open and full.

He keeps you stuck there until it goes down, scented dumb and satisfied for now. It’s the perfect time to convince you to eat. You can't fuss too much down in omegaspace, eager as always, to be good for your pack alpha.

"Good pups eat their food, or else alpha can't pup them right, have to stay healthy for alpha." You nod, mouth going slack, opening obediently. It's stunning that thats all it takes.

Namjoon asks and you open, Namjoon asks you to sip and you do, Namjoon tells you to breathe, and you gasp.

Hoseok sits beside you, holding the tray of food for Yoongi, he keeps it straight, keeps it from tipping. An unusual amount of effort goes into doing that small task. Hoseok treats it like he's holding a nuclear bomb. Eyes going from every bite of food as it travels from the tray to your mouth.

Hoseok doesn't mind, it's a good task, good to have something to focus on.

The subspace haze makes Hobi just as good of a pup as you are. Namjoon even lets Hobi feed you too! Your tongue slides against his fingers, licking up sweet strawberry juice. Lapping at them lewdly.

"Good puppies. kiss hobi in thank you pup."

Your kiss is soft and sweet, a little open mouthed, a little pupish. Hobi resists the animal part of him that wants to lick into your mouth for strawberry sweetness and puppy kisses. He laps once, twice, and there is a hand in his hair pulling him back with a tisking noise. Yoongi, looking down at him with a dark indecipherable look in his eyes.

Then he looks at Namjoon, a passing glance and subtext that Hoseok misses, too busy biting back a whine and Yoongi's grip goes slack in his hair. The moment passes without comment or verbal command.

Yoongi's delicate hands scratch behind Hobi's ears and he makes a soft happy sound in the back of his throat. Soft little chuffs.

You stare at them, each of them, wide bunny eyes blinking slowly. eyes glassy. Not saying anything. Shaking your head when they ask questions or nodding cutely. A bit non-verbal.

It's a bit harder to hide when you're verbal. When you decide you do want to babble.

Hoseok is glad for the tray, his cock hasn’t gone soft, not at all, after basically being edged all morning. it's harder to ignore when you go mouthy.

It’s cute, even you chew and accept sweet bites from your fingers, your eyes remain fixed on Namjoon. Babbling around the sweet nibbles. “Love Alpha so much, knot so big and puffy! Love his knot wanna kiss it, wanna eat it-”

Yoongi shoves a piece of bread at your lips to make you stop babbling out your filth. You chew, eyes fixed on him with wide eyes. “Joonie needs to last for the rest of your heat- you can't eat him yet. preferably never but-”

"But- but-" tears dance treacherously on your waterline, threatening to spill.

Namjoon pipes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and resting a protective and possessive hand on your stomach. Nibbling at your throat, your neck. "I'll eat you first." You giggle and push at him, but it's halfhearted.

Hoseok's eyes remain fixated on you. Hands tight on the tray. Canine hooked over his lower lip. Hobi holds the tray so steady that it doesn't even bob and dip with his breathing.

Once Namjoon’s knot has gone down again, he hisses. The skin around the base of it is going sensitive but you're still needy. You wiggle your hips and whine but Namjoon sets you back into the nest on your side. So careful with you that it makes Hoseok ache.

Your sensitive tummy is protected between your body and the nest. Namjoon lies you out so gently, careful with you. You have bruises everywhere; on your chest, your neck, your thighs. Hand shapes and hickeys. Even a heart shaped one because tae decided you deserved one.

Maybe they haven't been as gentle with you as they think.

If you're strained at all you don't show it, sighing into the nest, gripping handfuls of it in your fists, clinging to it. Kneading the fluff of it a little before your body goes boneless.

Yoongi ducks in close and kisses Namjoon, you, then Hobi, before he takes the tray he shuffles to the other side of the nest the tray of food in hand, intent on also convincing Jin and Jungkook to at least take a nibble.

You whine. High and petulant. Nuzzling into the nest, trying to sate this feeling in your chest.

A warm palm flutters down your spine, comforting. “Ah, my cute needy little pup, what are we to do with you huh? Still insatiable after all of that? You still need more?”

Yes, yes you do. The fire is still burning through you, you’re still in heat. Namjoon is a good alpha (Even if honestly- he’s getting a little tired)

Hobi takes his usual position, holding your hands while Namjoon has you. Sliding between your legs. You're belly down, not even holding yourself up. But you deserve to have it like this, no work, just Namjoon's weight behind you and his knot in your hole.

Hoseok feels a nagging worry in the back of his mind. it's barely been what- two seconds? Since he pulled out. You can't be having another heatspike so soon.

You're about 18 hours in already. Probably nearing the middle of your heat and the worst of it. But then again- maybe you have your worst spikes near the end like Jungkookie. Maybe you're just warming up- making up for lost time.

Hobi holds your hands through it, through this breeding session too. just like he did with Yoongi and Namjoon's first few bouts.

Hobi keeps you from scrabbling, trying to claw yourself away from too much pleasure. It still gets to you- the panic. It's always immediate. Whenever you feel Namjoon prod. Some hidden animal part of you that wants to resist, that like him, needs to be settled.

Hobi holds your hands, looking down, transfixed by the way your body moves. Hoseok is very very good at holding things, isn't he? He's being a good puppy. The best puppy.

You squirm, and Namjoon's instincts flare.

Namjoon leans down, pressing a kiss to your nape, meanly pressing in further, harder. You are so hot inside, the heat fever tearing through you now that you have a little food in your stomach and more energy to burn. Warm and wet and tight. Your eyes roll back and Hobi can do nothing but watch.

But Namjoon's pace stutters.

It's understandable. This is the 5th knot he’s given you in as many hours. It's sometime after mid-day and it's been probably around 30 hours since he's slept. Namjoon's only human. He can't last forever. Hoseok's honestly a little surprised that Namjoon hasn't tapped out yet, that his knot isn't ready to fall off.

But Hoseok watches his pace falter and his lip lifts. It's an instinct to growl. Namjoon spies it, hackles raising.

Alpha instincts are a peculiar thing.

“You think you could do better?” Namjoon taunts, a little playfully. Arms bulging as he holds himself up, trusting harder into you. Almost in retaliation. Hobi blushes, looks away, successfully chastised.

Hoseok shouldn't be intimidated, Namjoon might be the pack alpha, but Hobi has still seen him put his shoes on the wrong feet before and leave the house- too many times to count.

The growl comes out of his mouth before he thinks better about it. Loud. Across the nest. Jin lifts his head, woken up by it, hair all fluffy. Yoongi combs over it to settle him.

Namjoon stops moving.

Hobi clamps a hand over his mouth in surprise and the snarl becomes a whine. “Yes! No! Maybe- I think I-.” Hobi hovers unsure, bashful at being caught snarling at the pack alpha.

Namjoon is not one to let this kind of thing slide especially not during a heat.

Namjoon slides out of you, long and hard and hot, you whimper. You don't like feeling empty. You try to push back on him but are stopped by a hand pressed blank your pussy, Namjoon's fingers brushing your hole, fucked open and messy. Gaping just a little, dripping a bit of cum onto the nest until you tighten up.

You whine. Loud and grating. Hoseok's instincts make him want to gnash his teeth. It sets him on edge. Across the nest, Yoongi turns, distracted from his task of trying to convince Jungkook to suck on a straw instead of trying to suck on his dick, Alarmed at the sound of your whine. The desperation in it.

“Alright alright, calm down,” Namjoon says, kind of laughing through it, kind of high. Namjoon is the picture of restraint, he's not a knothead, not like Hobi. He doesn't snarl and push and fight at another alpha challenging him. No- Namjoon looks at Hobi, a mean glint in his eye.

Namjoon can get a little scary when he's got something to prove, even scarier when he's got a job to do.

Your collar is there by the edge of the nest, taken out when Jimin put on his, black with a golden puppy tag, the twin to Hobi's red one. Your pink one is showing its wear; worn at the hole in the buckle, the one that fits you nice and loose. Perfect as a handhold.

Namjoon points and Hobi gets it before he's even registered that he's following a nonverbal order. Flushing as he takes off the bell and then tries to hand it over.

But Namjoon just eyes your throat expectantly.

Making one sub-collar another is- well-

Hobi's hands stutter, shaky with anticipation as he tries to fit it around your throat. It takes him several tries to get it latched properly. Namjoon’s cock twitches as Hobi looks up for his approval. You push into his hands, purring loudly. No longer displeased at not being filled if you can teeth at the scent gland on his wrist.

Namjoon pulls back and away from you. Heavy cock throbbing, pulsing dully- but in all reality- edging himself will only help everyone in the long run. You’re already so wet on the inside, full of Yoongi and Jimin's and Tae’s cum not just Namjoon's.

But not Hobi's, not yet. Namjoon should fix that.

Namjoon reaches for Hobi's collar and puts it on him, testing the give, pulling him this way and that until he’s satisfied with it. Hoseok whines at being pushed around, tugged almost until he falls over, but he lets Namjoon do it. Obedient.

Namjoon pulls him over to where he sits, behind you, almost between your legs.

There is a bit of whiteness, leftover cum, covers Namjoon’s cock, milky at the tip. You drip slick a little, your pussy lips red and a bit inflamed from the ceaseless friction of his balls flopping forward and hitting where you’re sensitive. Namjoon palms blatantly between your legs checking with a dimply smile to make sure Hobi's watching. you mewl. But Namjoon just grins at Hobi. His fingers still hooked in his collar.

You mewl loudly and Namjoon puts his fingers back where you want them. "Oh don't be a brat, alpha's right here pup."

Hoseok's cock twitches at being manhandled, especially when Namjoon slides that hand down Hobi's midline, feeling him up and Hoseok lets him. Hoseok would let Namjoon do anything. He doesn't even flinch or growl when Namjoon pushes his thigh apart and pushes down his boxers. Palming his knot, examining him. Wrapping his big hands around it and testing where his knot will form. Rubbing at the sensitive skin with talented fingers.

It gives Hobi no small amount of pride that his hand does not cover all of Hobi's cock. He's still sizable. still long even if he's not nearly as thick as the others. Hoseok's scent fluffs out a little stronger at that.

Namjoon has one hand in you, hooked into your hole to soothe you, and the other wrapped around Hobi's cock as he says it.

“Show me then, show the pack alpha that you know to breed.”

Hoseok tries to pull back pull away, saying “But one of the others might want- I don’t need-” as if Hobi hasn’t been hard and trembling since the early hours of the morning, as if he hasn’t been edged by the ceaseless lewdness of you.

Namjoon does not take Hoseok’s excuses, tugging him by his collar “Oh, do you not remember puppy? Don’t worry, alpha can show you how to knot.”

Hoseok knows better than to protest, lets Namjoon lead him to you, lets him tug until Hobi is in between your legs. Namjoon close behind him. Guided by the pack alpha. Namjoon takes his hands in his and places them on your hips, the round fat of your behind. Hands smoothing up and down your sides.

Tentative and shy. Namjoon doesn’t allow him to pull his punches, holding his hips first, then your cheeks apart. You nuzzle forward into the sheets, completely lost to the world. But you start to push back into their hands. Peering up at Hobi shyly.

“Oh? You want to watch me show puppy how to knot you?” You turn your cheek, resting it against the nest so that you can peer back at both of them.

Hobi’s so pretty. Pretty alpha, want to see your pretty alpha with his pretty little knot, wanna kiss it cuz it's pretty and he's pretty and you love Hobi-

Beside you, Jin looks over and grins. There you go, talking out loud when you think you're not again. Hoseok's face is as red as the aburn in his hair.

Namjoon’s dark chuckle makes Hoseok’s cock twitch. Jumping. dripping just a little. “Puppy only knows how to breed like doggies do l sweet thing, don’t you want to show him how well you can present? Go on, show alpha.”

Hobi wants to say that he knows that he knows how to fuck, he does, he's fucked you before and you've liked it, he swears he knows how. But maybe breeding and fucking are two different things? Surely Alpha knows. Namjoon's hands are hot and greedy, touching Hobi's hips, his chest, and the narrow plane of his hips. Hoseok has always been a slender alpha and behind him Namjoon feels impossibly big and strong.

Steadying.

The thrall of sweet submission bleeds down Hobi’s back at odds with the humiliation. The tingle of not being the one in charge right now, the one not being in control is so alluring that it’s hard to resist temptation.

Hoseok has not slept either, Hoseok has stayed up with Namjoon and you through it. Just incase. Just incase anyone needed him.

Hobi doesn’t want to resist. At the pack alpha's laughter, he shuffles forward, blushing hard, cheeks red. "I can do it, I know-" how to knot. Gets caught in his throat.

Namjoon pecks the nape of his neck. "I'm sure you do pup, but alpha can show you anyway."

Descending down into subspace with you while you’re in heat might be exactly what he needs to overcome all of this- the lingering tension and fear. The impossible ache of things that Hobi cannot fix alone. But there are others here to reassure him. Across the nest, Jin lies on his side. Watchful and careful.

You arch, twisting half onto your back and thinks he might come undone just at the sight of the mess on your stomach. You blink lazily up at him, utterly boneless- utterly at the mercy of the pack alpha’s touch.

Hobi watches as Namjoon holds your ruined hole open with two of his thumbs. Namjoon’s voice is on the shell of his ear, hot breath tickling his skin. “See how she’s open already, don’t you want to feel how warm and hot she is inside?”

Namjoon shuffles forward until his cock is poking at Hobi's behind, flush between his back and Namjoon’s front. A reminder against his spine. Namjoon’s hands go south, and all Hobi has to do is let Namjoon push, let the pack alpha guide his cock inside you below them, a more than willing omega.

“Oh!”

You let out a little shocked sound, cute, halfway between a word and a chirp as Hobi pushes in, through Namjoon’s spend, through the heat of your body, fucked open not quite loose but-

You are not as tight as you could be especially immediately after taking Namjoon’s cock and knot- at least double in with to Hobi’s (Hobi doesn’t feel that insecure about it. Namjoon could make a porn star feel inadequate) and he’d never guess that you found him unsatisfying from the way you gasp, scent going syrupy pleasure sweet. It's so good it makes Hobi's hands shake.

But there is a deeper warmth and wetness. Hoseok is the last alpha to breed you, going after even Yoongi, and the others. The others have filled you up so well. Hoseok can feel it. You're soaked from the inside out. The mess that spills is only half of it.

Hobi doesn’t think about his submission in concrete terms. At least not the way that you and Jungkook do.

But he’s the last to knot you, you’re sloppy and wet and warm around him. He has their cum frothy and foamy on his dick right now, making the slide of his cock so slippery he pops out on occasion- only to be guided back in by Namjoon’s hands. It makes humiliation light- hot and delicious- a phantom heat- down his spine.

Namjoon holds Hobi's hips and guides him into a sloppy grind, mouth running wild, face drawn in a half snarl. “Gonna give her all of it aren’t you alpha? Gonna knot her little hole and breed her with all of us, alpha knows you can, can you be good and pop a knot for me? Can you be a good puppy for the pack alpha?”

Namjoon digs his teeth into the nape of Hobi's neck, and the hot clench of your cunt, looking up at them, almost makes Hobi lose his shit.

But then you reach for his hand, tangling your hand with Hobi's. Blinking away tears in your eyes, cheek lying agianst the nest, staring up at Hobi with that same look of pure adoration. The same way you looked at Namjoon.

"love you."

You close your eyes, blinking slow, sighing. Hoseok's pace stutters. Namjoon throbs against his backside. Across the nest, Yoongi says something to Jin, and Jin smiles. Tae giggles. Jungkook cum's loudly. hoseok doesn't realize he's closed his eyes until he opens them. blinking slow like you.

“Oh pup, does Hobi-alpha feel good?”

“So good alpha, can feel him in my tummy, can feel him next to you. Love Hobi alpha- love him lots and lots, like being close to him. like this cuz-cuz-” you struggle, words are so hard in omegaspace.

"Because you're as close to him as you can get?"

"Yeah. Smell like him too." You purr, eyelashes fluttering. Hoseok's breath hitches.

Namjoon lets go of Hobi's hips and Hoseok is so far down that he stops moving. Namjoon lands a slap on Hoseok's behind a punishment for stopping.

“I’m not really convinced Hobi wants to fuck you pup-” Namjoon says with false sincerity, the same tone he uses when he's teasing Yoongi.

“No, I do! I promise I do!” Hoseok hardly recognizes the panic in his own voice. The desperation that only comes with an approaching orgasm. He grabs your hips, pulling you back onto him, showing Namjoon.

“Huh really? Aren’t you gonna show it? Can you fuck her harder for me pup?” Hobi does, the pace so quick that it makes sweat bleed down his back. and the slap of skin on skin becomes a beat, becomes a melody.

Now this is fucking. Not the slow but thorough taking apart that Yoongi and Tae lavished you with. This is not how Namjoon fucks; gentle because he needs to be or else risk hurting you. No- this is slaps of Hobi's lap against your hips, turning your skin red like you’ve been spanked, his cock sliding in and out, curving up to kiss that spot inside of you. Quick and rabbit fast.

Hoseok is sure he’s doing a good job until Namjoon stops him with a hand on his collar. The twinkle in his eyes makes Hoseok feel so small he averts his gaze.

“Hang on, I want to see something.” Hoseok does pause, simply a puppet for Namjoon to push around when he wants to. hoseok is obedient, a good puppy.

Namjoon pulls Hobi away from you by his collar and Hobi pops out of you with a broken whine. Cock heavy and twitching, knot half popped at the base. But he’s a good puppy, a good puppy he swears, if the pack alpha needs to check the omega below him is alright then Hoseok will trust him.

Hoseok is kneeling there, heavy cock wet between his legs as Namjoon shuffles forward, taking Hobi's spot. One alpha taking an omega from another in the middle of the heat, in the middle of breeding- would be a challenge to any alpha’s ego.

But Hoseok just feels like he's going to cum. he's going to cum and namjoon is going to let him if he's only good. Hobi's cock just twitches. Wet with cum that isn’t his. White and translucent against where his skin goes darker and pink. Dripping a bit from the tip.

Namjoon pulls you onto him in one smooth movement. Putting his cock all the way in, you gasp, eyes going wide, lips sack. And a noise rises from Hobi's throat, not a growl but a whimper. Namjoon holds your wrists, forcing you back on his cock once, twice, grinning at Hobi all the while. Taunting him in a way that makes Hobi melt.

“Alpha alpha alpha please-” falls from your lips. A plea unanswered.

Namjoon pulls back just as quickly. Sliding out, and leaving you empty. Hobi watches as you struggle to clench. To breathe after that. Namjoon lands an open palmed slap over your hole, loud and wet. And you collapse back onto your hands and knees. So, limp you can’t hold yourself up. Sobbing dry.

“That’s what I thought pup.”

A small film of slick and cum comes away on his hand. Namjoon wipes it over Hobi's hip, hot as a brand before he guides him back between your legs. Hooking his chin over Hobi's shoulder to watch. Hobi doesn’t even fight- just lets Namjoon put it in and then guides his hips into a sloppy grind. Faster and faster.

He’d never admit it, and it’s embarrassing. But for a second after taking Namjoon’s cock- all Hobi can feel is wet.

He lets out a broken sound when you finally close around him- somehow tighter after being stretched around Namjoon’s gargantuan member. Your orgasm is fast approaching. Barreling towards you. Will the rest of your heat go this way? Traded from alpha to alpha, from knot to knot?

“Pups nice and open for you this way, you won’t have a problem knotting, even if you pop one outside, I can just push it in.”

Namjoon’s not wrong, Hoseok’s knot is adequate- he knows this. But- but-

Namjoon’s cock, it’s almost the same diameter as his knot normally. You’re so open, so gappy, that Hoseok could probably knot you and keep fucking you. Jimin will definitely do that just to make you squirt and get more of your slick.  It’s fun. The other omega’s don’t squirt, at least not the way you do.

Your tongue lolls out a little. Lost to the heat fever, cute enough that Namjoon presses a thumb to your lips and wipes the saliva down your midline. Pausing to tease at your sensitive nipples, Namjoon doesn't really ever give them too much attention- Hobi has noticed.

Maybe because there's just so much more to pay attention to.

Like the fullness of your stomach, the cute pout to your cheeks while you gasp, the hazy way you look at them both above you, fucking you up, breaking you a little. That has the power to make them come undone with a single look. You lie your cheek on your hands and stare up at them. Gasping every time Hobi pushes flush.

"Want puppy to make me messy, want knot, please? Please alpha? can i have it? i've been so so good."

"of course you can pup. hobi..." namjoon trails off, and hoseok's orgasam is right there, right on the edge, waiting for namjoon's say so.

He doesn't give it. doesn't give Hoseok permission. hoseok's body can't with out it, tense down to his core, like a live wire prepared to snap with electricity.

Your clit twitches and your pussy clenches wet as Namjoon rolls your nipples between his thumbs and forefinger. Hobi whines, high and lupine, alarmed. If you keep doing that, then his knot is going to pop, and he wants- he should at least make you cum once. The others will never let him live it down if he doesn’t.

“How much do you want it pup? Can you show him?”

You whine, confused with the question, confused further when Namjoon’s hand snakes between the two of you, holding Hobi's cock as it goes in and out, prodding gently at the sensitive skin around the base. Exploring and checking, Hoseok honestly almost pops a knot right there, out of your hole, and lets all his cum go to waste. “Yes- yes I’ll-”

Namjoon's breath is hot on Hobi's ear, his lips brushing the Shell of it. "puppy, knot."

Namjoon strokes down Hobi’s peritoneum as he knots and Hobi honestly to god thinks he might see white for a moment, something pure instinct gripping him as he ruts forward, breeding without care for your comfort.

He pops his knot. Fucks it in once, then out, then back in. Relishing in the wetness as you squirt, turning the inside of your thighs glossy and speckled with droplets. Hobi doesn’t mind, he knows that one of the others- probably Jimin because he’s a little obsessed with your slick honestly- will clean both of you up later.

Namjoon takes Hobi’s hands and presses both of them to your stomach, small, a little soft normally but now…looks a bit bloated. “Do you feel that alpha?” Namjoon says, husky in his ear, and yes. Hobi can, he can feel the warmth there. Especially once you start to purr, eyelashes fluttering, obviously fucked to sleep. Something tugs in his gut and Hobi whines. High-pitched and lupine.

"Good puppy, so good for alpha. Good boy."

Hobi feels a bit like he might laugh, a bit like he might cry. (The cutest puppies are always a little extra fragile after knotting and Hobi is no different), Namjoon presses him closer pulling at the collar. Presses him down until you’re all cuddling. You on the bottom, Hobi in the middle, and Namjoon on top.

It's easy to help you move your leg and turn the full way so that you can burrow into Hoseok's front. Hiding from the world in the safety of your alpha. Your packmate.

Hoseok doesn’t even register that there’s wetness on his back, that Namjoon maybe rutted against the cleft of his ass, and came a little too. That the pack alpha got worked up enough by his pups being good and all the heat hormones on the air. That revelation can wait for a bit later when Hobi's not feeling quite so fragile.

In the meantime, Namjoon has pups to take care of.

“How did Hobi do omega? Do you feel nice and bred and full?”

You babble, eyes already half closed. Nodding cutely. “Best alpha, love Hobi alpha so so much, nice knot- best knot.”

Namjoon’s husky laugh conceals the sound of Hobi’s sniffles, and he’s intensely glad that he smells as happy as he feels- that you don’t open your eyes and see. He’s still breathing too heavily. Brain awash with happy hormones.

Hobi just successfully helped you through a wave of your heat, he didn’t fuck up, he didn’t do anything wrong-

Namjoon made sure of it, Namjoon made sure that Hobi had everything he needed, and you did too. He really is a good pack alpha. There is a lump in Hobi's throat that just won’t go away, even through his orgasm. even as he releases a bit more inside of you. Hobi's knotting is always a bit drawn out. You clench, milking him of as much spend as he has.

“Better than mine?” Namjoon teases.

You shake your head petulantly, you’re scent marking him everywhere, running your wrists clumsily over his sides, his shoulders, up his back. “Don’t wanna choose, want all.”

Jin huffs from across the nest. "We all know Tae has the best knot."

Jimin pops up from between Jungkook's thighs. Slick on his pudgy cheeks. "Hey! What about me!"

Namjoon strokes down Hobi's cheek, wiping away his tears. “We’ll give you all of them pup. Don’t you worry your pretty little fuzzy head at all.” Hobi has a feeling that the last sentence is more for him than for you. But you settle and huff. Really. You are close to sleep. Hobi is the one that finally made your fever quiet. Finally made it go down.

You smack your lips, “feel fuzzy, feel soft and good and full.” Hoseok is trying to reply, trying too. But behind him, Namjoon’s voice goes soft.

“And you want Hobi in your nest, right?”

Horror and terror fall on Hobi like a wave, almost making him drop, a swooping in his stomach so complete at the idea that you might- that you could-

Hoseok tries to pull back, pull away-

But your body goes firm, wrapping around him so quickly and pulling him to you with such a force. Offended by the very notion of what Namjoon insinuates. All but hissing at the pack alpha. One second Hoseok isn’t being hugged, and the next, your whole body- pussy and all, is clamping tight around him, holding around his neck.

“No! My alpha! Can't take him! Has to stay in the nest forever and ever and-"

“Shush I’m just teasing, no one’s going to take your Hobi from you.” Namjoon grins, but a look over his shoulder tells Hoseok that Namjoon wasn’t teasing, not at all.

Namjoon knows exactly how to settle the pack, exactly what they need and when. Hobi's body is completely relaxed now, completely at ease. No vague fear or anxiety in him. he'll have those words replaying in his head later, he knows he will.

My Alpha.

you'd snapped at the pack alpha for him, and you're still clutching him close, like hoseok is as vital to you as air. You want him. You want him in your nest. You want his scent. You want all of him, not just the parts that are convenient to use.

You settle, rubbing your head against Hobi's throat, like you want as much of his scent on you as possible. Still a little put out by it. A little angry at Namjoon. But your anger is just like Noodle's; more fluff than threat.

You do it again and again, scent marking Hobi until your breathing evens off. And you fall asleep like that, sandwiched under Hobi and Namjoon’s bodies. Hoseok between the two of you.

Hobi is a little too far gone looking down at you, a tear or two slipping out of his wet eyes. Namjoon guides him, hand in his hair. Pressing his nose into your scent gland and pinching at his scruff until Hobi's legs turn to jelly.

Hoseok sets his ear against your heart to hear it’s melody. the thump thump thump, and closes his eyes.

~-~

When you wake, the world is hazy.

Sensations bleed into each other neither real nor fake, the gauzy feeling of fresh flower petals, the sweetness of ice cream on your tongue, the dewy softness of a peach- your lover's skin plush beneath your teeth.

Each moment becomes another, each orgasm blending with the next until you’re not sure what day it is, whose fucking you, or who around you is asleep or awake. There's this pressure between your legs, a pressure that brings with it tingling pleasure and wetness.

There is hair on the inside of your thighs—no, not hair but someone's head. You blink awake among the sounds of sighs, slaps, and moans, making a soft noise in the back of your throat.

"Sorry pup, you started grinding against my thigh in your sleep."

You smack your lips together. Your body feels so good, so yummy. Yoongi pulls himself up from between your thighs, hands touching over your legs your stomach your everywhere. His chest is ruddy and sweaty, in just his boxers.

Everything brings a bone-deep pleasure, everything makes you feel soft and sleepy. The hungry roam of Yoongi's hands, possessive. The way he nuzzles into your throat, a little harder a little more aggressive than he usually would. Panting open-mouthed to breathe in your scent.

You're in heat. You can be forgiven for not noticing.

His eyes are dark pools when you look up at him. Pupils dilated. "I did?" Yoongi ducks low to kiss you, mouth salty and sweet, you sigh, still sleepy. Settling back into the nest. Yoongi's rubs over your side, needy, possessive. It's like his hands have a mind of their own.

"Mhmm, turned my pjs into a fucking state."

"Oh" you sigh, sort of out of it, already parting your legs, routine, all instinct. "Sorry."

Something gnaws at the back of your head, there is a glint in Yoongi's eyes that usually isn't there when he touches you. His heartbeat is rabbit-fast.

Huh.

Your lips smack together and you grind back against the hardness between his legs, the front of his boxers are soaked, and the fabric feels nice against your entrance. One of the others can probably deal with whatever that is. You have more important things to do. You are too small to handle whatever it is.

Yoongi gets his cock out, and tells you that you can close your eyes again if you want to. You can't really tell if he's fucking you awake or fucking you back to sleep but you do like it. Beneath you, Hobi slumbers. A warm body. You're still guarding him.

There are moments of lucidity, moments of clarity brought on by pain or pleasure. But the moments between the lucidity bleed into each other.

Beside you, Jin rides Tae’s cock with ruthless efficiency. Never one to be forced to present. His thighs move as he rides, straining. Jin is so big and strong looking and Tae lies below him still in her pretty pretty dress, torn at the waist from where Jungkook got a little too rough hours ago. You'll be upset about that later because you like that dress on her.

Tae has no right to look so good in her dresses with her cock out. Especially when she looks up at Jin, hand behind her head, settling back to let the pack omega take what he needs. Her fingers twine through the end of a leash almost lazily wrapping it over her knuckles and letting it go loose again. Jimin's collar at the other end of it, the other alpha diligently fucking Jungkook in a presenting position. The slap of skin on skin is an echoic melody.

You are close besides, close enough that if you really reached, you might be able to hold Tae's hand, or maybe Jinnie’s. You'd really really really like to hold Jin's hand.

But holding Hobi's is more important at the moment. Hobi slumbers beneath you. Yoongi must have been cuddling both of you. Must have been guarding both of you through sleep to make sure nothing disturbed you. Maybe you started grinding into Hobi first and Yoongi detangled you. You're glad he stopped you, Hobi's too sensitive, too puppy to do that kind of thing to without asking. Even inside of a heat.

Yoongi is a good mate, above you, he breathes heavily, chest straining.

His hair is sweaty and shaggy in his face, swaying as he works his cock into you so good you can hardly speak. Can hardly form a coherent thought.

But he pauses when he sees your tears at your waterline. He doesn't need to ask you what's wrong, you just tell him.

“I wish I was an octopus.”

“To hold everyone's hands?”

“Yes.” you sniffle, and Yoongi’s eyes furrow.

“Are you honestly crying because you can’t hold all of our hands right now? While I'm inside you?”

“No” you lie, pouting at being found out. Yoongi just takes both of your hands in his, locking your fingers together, and keeps fucking you. Harder this time, like he has something to prove. Something to distract you from.

Gone is the slow and gentle. Yoongi fucks forward into you like he needs you. Quick and efficient.

On the other side, Jimin is taking Jungkook apart under Namjoon’s watchful eye, fucking him hard and fast even though his knot is already half popped. The pack alpha has his thighs splayed, and Jungkook is kissing up and down his cock. He tries to take it in but even if he were to unhinge his jaw, it still would be too tight of a fit.

He sates his need to suck by licking up and down. Lapping at Namjoon's knot, the furrow of his head, it's veiny girth. All of it explored and kissed. Jungkook's eyebrows drawn together, looking angry. Ignoring Namjoon's chides of "gentle omega, gentle."  (He'll probably get a hole spanking if he's not careful, but maybe that's what Jungkook really wants.)

Hobi sleeps below you, his breath even and measured. Your face still resting on his chest. He's resting soundly even though the whole room is full of the sound of moans and pleasure, skin slapping against skin. You try and untangle one of your hands from yoongi's to stifle your own sound but.

But Yoongi doesn't let you. you squeak, loud, and Yoongi grins, fucking faster, competitive with it. Across the nest Jimin fucks Jungkook faster. Tae looks over at the two of you and grins. An alpha expression, bearing his teeth at the show of Yoongi's dominance.

Hoseok's upper lift lips in a soundless snarl. still completely asleep. He's the closest one to you and Yoongi. The first one who notices. close enough to scent it on the air.

The pheromones from the others are a haze on the hair, hot on the back of Yoongi’s tongue joining the taste of your slick. He’d cleaned you up after Hobi knotted you, the two of you cuddled and close and giggly, both pupish underneath the gently watchful eye of Namjoon, dolling out praise and sips of water and corners of chocolate in equal measure. you'd fallen asleep mostly, mostly accept for the way you'd ground back against him after Hobi had slipped out, soft. and you- still insatiable.

Now, it’s Yoongi’s turn again, and thank god for that. There has been this almost ticking in the back of his mind, not a fever spiking, not quite like that, more drops into a bucket of water that now threaten to overflow. Yoongi's body trembles. And he can't stop himself from sneaking a hand down between your legs.

He's already pretty worked up from eating you out while you slept, and you're close too. Even if he cums he can just play with your clit like this until he's ready and hard again. It's a good thing that Yoongi doesn't have a knot, that he doesn't have to wait really to fuck you as the others do. He can just keep going, can just ignore the discomfort of overstimulation to avoid a deeper discomfort.

Yoongi hates disappointing his mate.

So he works his cock back and forth, nudging little sleepy moans from your throat. Your body is boneless below him just how he likes it.

Your slick is so good, it calls to him like alcohol must call to a drunk, like cigarettes to a smoker. Neither drug nor addiction can describe it perfectly. Yoongi presses his thumb against your clit, and you gush around his cock. clawing at his hand blindly. Sensitive, so sensitive after being fucked for so long. But better for him, more. Yoongi wants more. Wants as much as you can give him.

more more more, more and more more. That's what Yoongi needs.

He guides it up to his tongue sweeter than honey, than ambrosia. It makes his mind quiet, and his instincts tug deeper and deeper until he's practically buried by them.

Yoongi’s mating mark is so sensitive he can hardly touch it without his cock jumping. Whatever it is, whatever this is he thinks it comes from there.

He holds your hands so that you’re not tempted to abuse your clit any longer. He’s so good in the way that he works his cock back and forth, just perfect, just right in the way that he knows the movements of your body, the feeling of you, hiding your face in the pillows because you're shy.

Yoongi is watching you. Yoongi is hardly even blinking.

“Oh, is my little sweetheart shy again?”

Yoongi is going to cum after this next thrust, he can feel this orgasm building, hot and bleeding down his back. Yoongi tries to thrust forward, and you let out a small squeal- a sound of pain.

Every alpha in the room jerks hard.

Even Jin and Jungkook. Everyone, eyes directed to you and Yoongi. Hobi's body all but flinches, lifting his head up. Starting even though he's only half awake.

No sooner has Yoongi registered that and started (in both equal panic and dismay) Does the pain and discomfort erupt from between his legs. Something very very hot and sensitive there, something stretching him so so tight.

“Ow ow ow ow ow what the fuck- what the actual fuck”

It feels like denial, like his approaching orgasm has disappeared replaced with a feeling like he's burning. A pressure and an ache so firm that it feels like he’s bursting from the inside out. Pleasure unfulfilled, orgasm right there but impossibly out of reach.

Yoongi's hands cover his cock, wet with your spend, but even that almost feels like too much.

It's a bit comical. How quick the pack panics.

Namjoon is up on his feet faster than anyone can blink, cock flailing a little. Even Jimin pulls out of Jungkook, as gently as he can but still apologizes, "Sorry, Koo sorry sorry-"

You're still not too sure exactly what happened only that you can feel a bit of an ache in you, not like you're torn but- Sort of how it felt when Jimin dragged his knot in and out of your cunt earlier, back when it was half popped.

Your scents shift from sweet and happy to scared and in pain. The scent of panic is all but a collar around your packmate's necks. Pulling them closer. Making them forget about the pleasure hanging hot and heavy in the air. All needs are superseded by two packmates in pain.

The worst is Yoongi, gone is the chocolate sweetness. His happy pleasure-ridden scent. Now sour with fear and pain.

Namjoon stands, jerks, and slips in the nest after stepping on a slippery waterproof blanket, he falls flat on his ass. He's up before anyone can say anything before anyone can get to Yoongi.

The pack descended, sudden shouting, raised voices, half-nude bodies up and moving when they should be resting. Tae has you, drags you close, searching between your legs for blood, thankfully finding none, when her fingers come away.

Unfortunately- pinches and accidents happen but she’s eternally glad that you haven’t- her breath comes out short- that you're not torn.

If it didn't happen with Namjoon, then why did it happen with Yoongi?

You look over at where Yoongi’s crouched, cursing dully. “Mate? Broke mate?” You mumble, upset. You cling to Tae's front, crying, big tears dripping down your cheeks. Trembling.

“It’s okay pup shh shhh.”

Yoongi swats at Namjoon still holding his cock, big hands covering all of it gingerly. Hissing through his teeth. “fucking hell Joon- just give me a goddamn second.” But Namjoon’s hand is on Yoongi’s wrist between his thigh, pulls his hand away gently.

“Let me see let me see- Yoon, I am a doctor; I promise you it’s nothing I haven't seen before- Just-"

Yoongi whimpers and pulls his hand away from the bulge at the base of his cock.

Namjoon pauses, blinking. Face to face with it. And he realizes, no, he actually has never seen this before. Namjoon’s eyebrows all but disappear into the atmosphere.

"What the fuck?"

Only some truly devastating circumstances can bring an in heat omega into lucidity. You come back to yourself. "What's wrong? what's wrong with my mate?"

The rest of the pack stare dumbly. Ringing your mate just staring. Unsure what to do.

Because Yoongi, Beta Min Yoongi- your mate- full-blooded beta-

Has just popped a knot.

~-~

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Notes:

namjoon at the very begining of bily does say that he wants to spoil the m/c, it's in his internal monolouge but now she is substantially spoiled. and he is a happy little alpha about it.

taetae is sucking so much, poor little pup is gonna lactate the second her heat is through 🥺 what a mean mommy for turning her pup milky, what do we think? do we want the change to be permanent?

namjoon: baby i am /tired, mc: you motherfucker, making me do all the work- (she's such a bratt i love her)

very vauge implied human furnature hobi? why am i kinda a little weirdly into hobi being a very very obedient sub. he's such a good boy hold the tray so well! i love the idea of him getting praised for very simple things and getting hard over it. maybe i am...not as submissive as i thought.

when hobi is fucking the m/c i struggled alot with seeing if like- i wanted it to be soft or horny. but i truly think namjoon just realized that hobi needed to be in puppy space for it and also that the m/c needed to hear that hobi wanted her after him kinda...avoiding her for the first part of her heat. namjoon is aware that the m/c does not know that hobi's place in the heats and that he's slightly less active than the rest of them because of his trauma.

yoongi *suffering the effects of slick intoxication* m/c: i am just a baby,

do you like the suprise???? was it a good cliffhanger???? did you like it????????????? 😈 i'm so evil for giving you guys yoongi knot angst last chapter and actually giving you yoongi knotting this chapter llasjdlfjaslkdjflakjf but what you gonna do spank me?

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

Mafia! BTS - They're Your One-Night Stand and They Fall for You (hyung line)

Warnings: mature NSFW content (18+) (p in v, f oral receiving), mention of virginity

MASTERLIST

You had a huge argument with your best friend over her toxic boyfriend and she decided that the two of you should take some time apart but you knew that was just her boyfriend talking. You've known each other for years and were so close that her words came as an absolute shock and broke your heart. That night you just wanted to forget everything and have a good time. You went to the club with some of your other friends and danced and had a few drinks. You were tipsy enough to make you feel braver than usual but not remotely enough that you didn't know what you were doing. You had never had a one-night stand before but everything is a first sometime.

Jin

You were dancing at the club although the music wasn't really that good. You didn't care, though; you just needed to stop thinking about losing your best friend and let out the anger that you felt towards her toxic boyfriend.

When you followed your friends to go to the ladies' room together, you bumped into a tall figure.

"I'm so sorry," you said over the loud music. It was dark and the club was crowded. Another person was trying to make their way past you and pushed you into the stranger with force. You yelped in surprise as you fell but the stranger steadied you against him.

"Are you alright?" asked the stranger's deep voice. You finally managed to look up, your faces only inches apart. He was so handsome that it nearly took your breath away. Your heart was beating wildly as you nodded but your eyes drifted to his lips instead. You had never done that before but that night you were feeling completely reckless. The stranger's eyes found your lips as well and you took your chance. You stepped on the tips of your toes and closed the space between the two of you. The stranger's hands moved from your arms down to your waist as he pulled you closer. The scent of his perfume gave you goosebumps. It was strong but elegant not like the cheap colognes of other guys.

Before you knew it, you found yourself in the young man's apartment. You only had time enough to find out that his first name was Jin and you didn't care about the rest. All you wanted was to forget about everything and Jin was so good at making you forget. His touch made your knees weak and his kisses were so strong and passionate that all you could think about was wanting him.

Jin unzipped your tight black dress and pulled it down to your waist. He kissed your exposed shoulders as you untucked his white shirt. A loud moan escaped your mouth when he found the sweet spot on your neck and your fingers balled around his shirt. Jin tore his lips away from your neck and left soft, wet kisses down your chest and your tummy until he came to your waist. He pulled your dress off completely, his mouth watering at the sight of your lacy underwear. He kissed the front of it, making you gasp as he yearned to get a better access. Jin's large hands squeezed your bum as he picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. You could have never found the confidence to do all of this so easily if you were completely sober and you were glad for the few drinks you had.

You swallowed hard when Jin laid you down on his bed and pulled off his shirt. As if his kisses and confident touch weren't enough to make you soaking wet, the sight of his god-like body made your skin crawl with fever.

You found yourself tracing your toes gently from the waist of his trousers and past his length that hardened even more beneath your touch and down to the middle of his thigh. Jin watched you with a look in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. He took off his pants and grabbed a condom from the nightstand. You pulled him down to you, your lips finding his before you helped him slip it on. The brush of your fingertips against his member made him so hard that he could come there and then. Jin wouldn't allow himself, though, not before he could feel himself inside of you.

Jin climbed on top of you and found your soft lips again. Your kisses were driving him crazy.

"Can you go slowly at first?" you whispered into the kiss, your fingers tangled in the stranger's hair. Jin opened his eyes and found yours. If you could blush any more, you would.

"Of course," he agreed and left a hickey beneath your jaw. You smelled fantastic and it made him almost feral but he remembered what you said.

Jin took off your soaked-through underwear and pulled your hips closer to his before he guided himself inside of you. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning but it helped little to contain your little sounds of pleasure. You couldn't help but curse under your breath as Jin began to move his hips and you could feel every inch of him inside of you. Your heart was racing like crazy and you couldn't get enough. Your nails dug into Jin's back, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips. It felt so good that you never wanted the moment to stop.

"Fuck," groaned Jin as he came closer and closer. His eyebrows furrowed into a frown and his grip on your hands grew firmer. Jin's face buried into your neck when he came, his breathing loud and heavy as he tried to calm down. You caressed his back, no less excited although you didn't finish. You didn't even expect to, given that this was just a one-night stand.

Afterwards, Jin went to the bathroom and took off the used condom. He ran his fingers through his hair when he came back, his eyes finding your sprawled across his bed. You were still breathing heavily, one of your hands on your bare tummy, the other somewhere behind your head. Your gaze tied with his when he waited by the bed.

Jin's fingers traced your calf first then his hand slid up your leg as he climbed onto the bed and he reached your thigh. Jin kissed your tummy first, his teeth softly grazing against your skin. Your heart began to race again and your stomach flipped with fireworks. Before you realized what Jin was doing, his mouth had reached your wet pussy. You gasped when his lips closed around you sucking and kissing and his tongue drawing shapes in ways that brought you to the edge of screaming. Your back arched when Jin's hands wrapped around your thighs and he brought you closer, your toes curling and your heart beating so loud against your chest that you forgot how to breathe. You whimpered as your legs shivered and pleasure took over your entire body.

"Oh my god ..." you cried when Jin pulled away from the throbbing, wet mess between your thighs. He turned to the inside of your leg and pressed hard kisses there as well, leaving a red marks on your tender skin.

***

You woke up in the morning with the sun in your eyes. You blinked, thinking you had died for a moment because it felt as if you had been sleeping on a cloud. It was just a large bed, however, with soft, plush covers scattered all around you. You sat up quickly when you remembered everything that happened. A blush so strong rose to your cheeks that your face was pulsating with heat. A sharp breath caught in your throat when you realized that you were naked and your underwear lay scattered on the bedroom floor. You jumped up quickly and put it on but your dress was nowhere to be found. There were three doors in the bedroom; one led to the walk-in closet, another to the hallway and the last one to the bathroom. Your dress wasn't there either but when you saw the smudged makeup on your face, you couldn't help but wash it away quickly and run your fingers through your tangled hair.

There was the sound of footsteps coming from the other side of the apartment. You saw a white shirt at the foot of the bed and slipped it on. The smell of it reminded you of every detail of the night and made your face flush. When you slowly made your way down the hall, you took in the luxurious apartment, not even noticing how extravagant it was last night. As you looked around, a pair of dark eyes was watching you with great interest. Jin's gaze followed your bare legs, the silhouette of your lacy underwear beneath his white shirt and your soft hair bathing in the morning sunlight.

You could feel someone looking at you. A loud gasp escaped your mouth when you turned around and saw your one-night stand behind the kitchen isle. He looked even better than you remembered; he wore a fresh shirt and suit trousers, a golden watch shimmering on his wrist as he held a cup of coffee in his other hand. Not only did you feel under-dressed and awkward about last night, you suddenly realized how out of your league he was.

"Good morning," he said and took a small sip of coffee.

"I ... I couldn't find my dress," you almost stuttered as you hugged your arms. Your cheeks were on fire. The man gestured at the sofa behind you. You slipped back into the bathroom where you changed quickly, not having the smallest idea of how to navigate the situation.

When you returned to the kitchen, the man was still there.

"Coffee?" He offered you a cup.

"Thank you ..." you tried to remember his name but you couldn't even if there was a gun to your head.

"Jin," he filled in a small but amused smile on his handsome face.

"Jin," you repeated and took a long sip that you desperately needed. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," said Jin, unable to take his eyes off your beautiful face. He couldn't stop thinking about last night either. He couldn't say what it was and it irritated him to death, but something about you drew him in; he wanted to know more, he wanted to know everything.

"Are you hungry? I can make you some breakfast," he offered, taking you completely by surprise. Based on what your friends told you, one-night stands don't go this way. Some guys even made the girls leave in the middle of the night and yet he was offering to make you breakfast.

"I ... I'm not sure," your statement sounded more like a question.

"You're not sure if you're hungry?" asked Jin, unable to keep the smile off his face at how adorable you were. The warm look in his eyes gave you butterflies.

"No, I am but ... Shouldn't I go now?" you asked, only realizing how dumb you sounded after saying the words. "I'm sorry, I've never really done this before," you confessed and only made your cheeks go even redder.

"I can see that," smiled Jin and went for the fridge where he grabbed some ingredients for an omelette. You were staying for breakfast.

"What ... What do you do?" you asked carefully as you sat by the counter, taking in the lavish apartment. Jin couldn't have been more than a couple of years older than you and yet he either seemed to be making a fortune or inherited a colossal amount of wealth from his parents.

"I have a significant share of a company," said Jin diplomatically as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt before he started whisking the eggs.

"Oh ..." You heard about really young people who invested at the right thing at the right time and became rich overnight. You figured Jin was one of them.

"Do you do this often?" you asked after Jin set a beautiful omelette in front of you.

"Cook?"

"No," you laughed a little, your cheeks turning red again. "I mean this ... Whatever it is ... was ..."

Jin watched you for a moment, trying to figure you out. He could tell that you had no idea who he was; he knew that last night already and it drew him in. People began to act differently once they found out who he was.

"Sometimes," said Jin honestly and you nodded as you took a delicious bite.

"This is really good," you complimented, completely focused on the food and not noticing the look of interest in Jin's eyes. He had never met anyone like you before.

"Thank you," he said. "You?"

"No," you almost laughed again and shook your head. "This isn't my thing, I've never even—" You stopped talking and froze when you realized what you just said. An eerie silence fell between the two of you as your face burned bright red and you could feel the blood pulsating from your neck to your cheeks.

You took another bite of the food and hoped Jin wouldn't ask further about what you practically revealed just now, but you could feel his eyes burn through you. For a long time, you really wanted your first time to be with someone special but as you grew older and went on more dates, the realization of that idea seemed nearly impossible. You didn't mind your first time being with Jin. You followed your instincts last night and went for it; it's not like you haven't done anything by yourself before that.

Jin watched you, trying to process what he just thought you said. His heart began racing faster as his eyes measured you from head to heel. You bit your lip as a pang of guilt shot through your chest.

"I hope you don't mind that I didn't say anything," you said apologetically and forced yourself to look up into Jin's eyes. "I didn't want to make a big deal out of it because it's isn't a big deal to me." Your voice slowly grew more quiet with each word. Jin stared at you, his lips slightly parted.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, leaning in slightly closer to you. Your eyes widened slightly and you blushed again. This was the last thing you expected him to say, a complete stranger.

You found yourself nodding truthfully. "Yeah, I ... It was great ..." you looked down at your plate and pulled another piece of omelette from the large roll with your fork. "It was pretty incredible really ..." you whispered under your breath when the memories came back to you.

Jin's hand went to your chin and propped it up before he kissed you. Your eyes widened at first but your instincts took over and you kissed him back. Your hand went to his smoothly-shaven cheek and you couldn't help but let out a quiet moan at how good Jin's plush lips felt against yours. He pulled away for a split second before leaning in again and pressing a shorter but no less passionate kiss to your lips.

Jin knew he was done for when he found it almost impossible to detach from your kiss. Your eyes staring up at him made his knees go weak - it was a completely new sensation for him.

"What are you doing tonight?" he found himself asking.

"I ... I don't know," you tried to think. The kiss made your brain all foggy.

"Let me take you out to dinner," said Jin. You stared at him puzzled.

"Me?" you asked timidly. You had never planned on this, not in a million years, but you would be lying if you said the thought of going out with Jin properly didn't excite you and give you butterflies.

"I'll pick you up at seven," he decided.

Namjoon

You were just coming back from the ladies' room with your girl friends when you saw a stunningly-handsome man. He was walking beside you back to the club area, his perfume sending shivers down your spine. The hallway narrowed to a single-door and he let you enter first.

"Thank you," you said with a small smile and slipped inside. When you glanced over your shoulder, the young man was nowhere to be seen. You frowned although you knew he was completely out of your league. What you found strange too, though, was that he was wearing a suit to the club. You wondered if he was the owner but he seemed much too young to own a business like this.

You had another drink and went back to the dance floor with your friends. You were dancing to the music, trying not to think about the absolute worst day you had. You couldn't believe how your best friend's boyfriend could manage to manipulate her so much that she would completely cut you off and her family too.

"I need to get some air," you voiced to your friend over the loud music. She nodded and continued on dancing.

You made your way through the pushy crowd, ignoring the weird guys who were gawking at you. They all looked the same; they dressed the same, they smelled like the same old cheap cologne; even their hair and faces looked the same.

You finally managed to make it through the back door, the cool air of the night filling your lungs and clearing your mind some.

"Everything alright?" asked a deep voice behind you. A small gasp escaped your lips as you jumped around. It's him, you realized when the young man in the suit stepped out from the shadows. He flicked away the cigarette butt in his hand.

You nodded as you hugged your bare arms. It was hot in the club but out here, the little black dress you wore wasn't remotely enough to keep you warm. Besides, you were sweaty from all the dancing.

"Actually, not really," you confessed and looked at the fluorescent light at the end of the back alley. The young man approached you.

"Anything I can do to help?" he asked and made you smile. You shook your head although you could help but allow your eyes to drift to the man's gorgeous lips. Your skin turned hot and prickly.

A pair of drunk girls in high heels emerged from the club suddenly and stumbled at you, pushing you against the stranger. He caught your arms and steadied you.

"Are you alright?" he asked after he threw a glare in the girls' direction. They were gone, though, giggling and stumbling down the alley.

"I'm fine," you nodded quickly. "Thank you."

"No problem," he said quietly as you looked up at him. There was hardly any space left between the two of you. A sharp breath caught in the back of your throat as your gaze fell on his lips again and he saw it. The stranger leaned down and kissed you. You responded immediately as you wrapped your arms around his neck and stepped on the tips of your toes. A small moan escaped your mouth when his hands took your hips and pulled you to him.

The moment that you made it into his apartment, the stranger grabbed your thighs and picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to his bedroom.

"What's your name?" you whispered against his lips, hesitant to break the kiss for even a moment. He pulled away though, his eyebrows in a small frown as he looked you in the eye and stopped on his tracks. There was surprise in his dark irises and you wondered if he really was the owner of the club. You wouldn't have known him even if he was because you hardly ever went there.

"Namjoon," he said breathing heavily.

"I'm Y/N," you said quickly before you found Namjoon's lips again. His name sounded unique and familiar but in that moment you couldn't have thought about it less. All you wanted to do was to forget about everything and feel everything.

Namjoon sat down on the edge of the bed with you in his lap, your legs straddling his massive thighs. You kissed him hungrily as his large hands slid up your thighs and beneath your dress up to your hips. They stayed there for a while before Namjoon unzipped your dress and pulled it over your head. His lips went to your neck as you blindly unbuttoned his shirt, losing track for a moment when he found your sweet spot and a moan escaped your mouth. Namjoon's hand moved down your back and behind your lacy underwear. He squeezed your bum and made you move your hips closer to him so that you could feel how hard you made him. Once your wet pussy grazed his length, you couldn't help but continue moving your hips along it, making Namjoon's trousers wet.

"Fuck," he muttered against your chest. His fingers dug into your soft skin as he helped you guide your hips along his member. Your hair smelled so good that it made Namjoon's skin prickle with fever. He couldn't take it any longer.

Namjoon picked you up and laid you down on his soft bed. He pulled off his half-unbuttoned shirt and unbuckled his belt. He grabbed a condom from his nightstand and put it on although he wanted nothing more than tear it off and feel you raw.

"Come here," Namjoon almost growled as he pulled you back onto his lap. He let you stay on top although he was the one guiding you. A gasp-like moan caught in your throat as he entered you, making you feel so good. He moved his hips slowly at first, steadily as he watched your little pleasure-drunk frown. Your nails were digging into his strong chest, only making him more impatient. He guided your hips against him, your clit rubbing against his waist as you leaned forward. You began stroking yourself, the sight of it making Namjoon growl curses. He sat up properly and supported you in his strong arms as he made you take all of him. Your eyebrows were furrowed into a frown and your lips parted as you whined but it felt so good.

"Fuck ... Don't stop, don't stop," you begged as you edged closer. "I'm close," you whimpered just before your thighs quivered and Namjoon's thrusts made you wince after you climaxed. He was close too, so fucking close when he saw the expression on your face when you came.

Namjoon groaned against your chest when he came deep inside of you. The feeling of him throbbing inside your sensitive pussy made you whimper. You were breathing heavily in each other's arms, trying to find a way back from the high.

***

Your hands reached across the empty bed as you opened your eyes. It took you a moment to remember where you were and what happened. The memories brought a sharp blush to your cheeks as you sat up. You were wearing Namjoon's shirt and nothing else. The fabric still smelled like his perfume, giving you goosebumps.

You ran a hand through your messy hair as you stood up, your bare feet threading the cold wooden floors. For a moment your thighs quivered and your eyes widened. You remembered how good it was but even your body surprised you.

The first door that you opened was a bathroom and you couldn't be more grateful for it. After you gathered your clothes, you took a quick shower and washed away the makeup from last night.

When you made it back to the bedroom, a part of you hoped that Namjoon would be there and yet another was embarrassed to even look at him. You had never done anything like this before. You were always so calm and rational but last night something snapped in you. Everything had built up over the past few weeks and you just wanted to feel good for a change.

You made your way down the hallway and followed the sound of the TV news reporter. Namjoon was sitting on the sofa in front of a large TV and watching the morning news with the stocks information running at the bottom of the screen. He had a laptop open and a coffee in his hand. The apartment looked thrice its size in daylight and so lavish it made your stomach twist into knots. Maybe he really was the club owner.

You wondered whether you should say something at all or simply try and leave unnoticed. As you slipped behind Namjoon and almost reached the hallway, you bumped against an end table.

Namjoon turned around, his dark eyes finding yours.

"I'm just going to ..." you jumped around and gestured towards the door, letting him know you were going to be out of his way in a second. "I, um ... I left the shirt by the sink in the bathroom."

"Where are you going?" asked Namjoon and got up, forgetting completely about the stocks or the news or any of it.

"Home?" you suggested unsure. You had no idea how this worked. Based on what your more experienced friends told you, no one was lingering around for coffee and many of them were even asked to leave in the middle of the night or sleep on the sofa.

"Yeah, I know, of course," said Namjoon, a small smile creeping to his lips. He seemed much less intimidating now that he was talking to you rather than when he was frowning at the news. You almost forgot how handsome this man was but he reminded you simply standing in front of you.

"Do you want me to drive you?" he asked. Namjoon's voice was deep and dark but his brown eyes warm and inviting. "There's coffee too if you want."

You watched him unsure. His hands were in the pockets of his dark suit trousers and he wore a fresh new shirt as well.

"I, um ... Sure, coffee would be great," you smiled a little. "If it's not an inconvenience," you added quickly.

"Not at all," said Namjoon as he looked down at you. You looked different without your makeup and your hair done. You still looked perfect though.

You followed Namjoon into the kitchen where he grabbed some coffee. "I can try and make you some breakfast - try being the operative word," said Namjoon as he poured you some coffee.

"I'm sorry I really don't know what I'm doing right now," you said nervously as you hugged your arms. Namjoon turned to you, his brows in a small frown. "I've never done this before - should I've just left? I really don't want to impose if you're busy," you gestured to the living room behind you.

Namjoon rose his eyebrows as his eyes flickered to the TV before they tied back to your gaze. He placed a cup of hot, aromatic coffee on the counter before you and grabbed the remote. He turned off the TV and grabbed his own cup before he joined you in the kitchen.

"I'm not busy," said Namjoon. His hand brushed against your upper back as he made his way past you. Goosebumps rose on your arms.

"I'm curious," he confessed.

"Curious?" you rose your eyebrows, puzzled.

"Why did you do it this time?" asked Namjoon as you looked up at him. Your cheeks flushed pink.

"I just ... It's a really long story," you shook your head.

"I've got time," he said and sat down beside you. You gave him another look, unable to tell if he was just being polite but he seemed genuinely interested - so you told him. You told him about your best friend and how she had been acting strange since she started seeing this guy over a year ago; how she slowly cut everyone from her life and how it was your turn now.

"This is going to sound strange but ..." you shook your head as you stared down at your coffee. "I think my heart's broken." Your voice was quiet and weak. You licked your dry lips and looked up at the man who was nothing short of a stranger to you but he was listening to you nevertheless.

"I know it's not like love - romantic love - but ..." you tried to explain and ran a hand through your hair. "I just can't believe this is fucking happening ...

"I'm perfectly aware that I have no right to judge - I've never even dated anyone—" you went on but that's the last thing Namjoon heard. His eyebrows furrowed into a frown as he looked at you properly. He couldn't make himself believe the words coming out of your mouth. You were one of the most attractive women he had ever seen. Every last curve of your body reminded him of last night and made Namjoon realize how he wanted you for himself and not just for that one night and the fact that you were free ...

"I should probably go," you said when you saw the frown on Namjoon's face. You should never have stayed in the first place. But when you jumped off the stool, Namjoon stood up as well and caught your hand.

"Have dinner with me tonight."

"W-What?" you stuttered.

"Dinner tonight," decided Namjoon. "I'll pick you up at seven."

Yoongi

The dancing alone had little effect on you forgetting about your horrible day. The music was bad and the drinks you and your friends ordered were so watered down it was practically money thrown out the window. There was only one thing that was keeping your attention - him. He must have been around your age or maybe a few years older but it was dark and you didn't particularly care. He was talking to the club owner or perhaps a manager when his dark eyes found yours. A sharp breath hitched in the back of your throat when he caught you staring. You looked away at your friends who were dancing beside you but when you turned around, he was still watching you. His eyes tore themselves away from you when the manager motioned towards the back of the club.

It must have been an hour since when you told your friends you wanted to leave but they continued dancing. You tried make your way through the pushy crowd. There were guys gawking at you in your beautiful dress and your hair done perfectly. A couple of them wanted to stop you from leaving and make you dance with them but you managed to slip from their grabby, sweaty hands.

"God," you breathed as you pushed open some side door and the cool air of the night filled your lungs. You closed your eyes and threw your head back as if you were looking up at the night sky. You hugged your bare arms when the night air made you shiver.

"No, man, I'm telling you she wants it, I saw her go out here—" a man was talking to his friend and laughing drunkenly as they pushed through the same door where you came out. You jumped around when the door burst open and the two guys appeared that tried to make you dance with them. Your stomach twisted into knots and your skin prickled hot with fear. Your friends were still inside and there was no way of calling them.

"Look, there she is, I told you," grinned one of the guys and pointed his rude finger at you. The looks in the guys' eyes were terrifying because you had seen them a thousand times before and you knew exactly what they meant.

The smell of cigarette smoke came from the shadows on the other side of the door, only a small orange light visible to you. Someone stepped into the light in front of you, walking casually as if he were on an afternoon walk. Him. He breathed out the smoke as he took a look at his cigarette butt wondering if there was another drag hiding in there. His back was to you when he flicked away the cigarette absently and stared up at the two guys. The ribald expressions drained from their faces before they began pushing one another as to who will get back inside first. The heavy door closed behind them with a loud thud.

The man turned around and took a good look at your eyes.

"I saw you in there," he said after a while. His voice was quiet but dark enough to give you goosebumps.

"I saw you too," you said weakly. The stranger took off his jacket and offered it to you. "You don't need to—"

"Take it," he insisted, not unkindly. You thanked him and slipped on the warm jacket that smelled of heavenly perfume and a little bit of cigarette smoke.

"Do you need a ride?" asked the stranger and glanced over his shoulder at the door.

You nodded a little. "Yeah, okay." The reason in you told you not to go with him but you decided to trust your instincts. Everything about him drew you to him like a magnet, and little did you know that he felt the same way about you since the moment he saw you dancing in the club.

"What's your name?" asked the stranger as he opened his car door for you. He was leaning his arm against the frame when you froze, the two of you only inches apart.

"It's Y/N," you breathed, unable to keep your eyes from glancing at his lips. He nodded weakly and gave you his name.

Yoongi asked where you wanted to go once you were out on the road.

"Home," you said quietly as you watched the flickering lights of the city pass by.

"Where's that?" asked Yoongi, one of his hands on the steering wheel when he turned to you.

"I don't know where you live," you found yourself saying as you looked at him. Yoongi's lips parted slightly, his pitch black eyes studying you. He looked back at the road and made a turn at the next crossroads.

You followed Yoongi up an alarmingly tall apartment building where his place was at the very top. Yoongi let you in first after he unlocked the door. He turned on some lights as you took off your heels. He was right behind you. One of his hands slowly made its way around your waist whilst he moved your soft hair to one side of your neck with the other. Yoongi kissed your hot skin as you closed your eyes and let him. Your hand went over his that was resting on your waist, your fingers locking with his. You never imagined a stranger's touch could feel so good.

You turned around and caressed Yoongi's cheek, leading him down to your height. You kissed him slowly at first, but his grip securing on your hips encouraged you to deepen the kiss. His hands moved down to your bum and thighs where his fingers dug into your soft skin. He picked you up and sat you on the large end table Yoongi stepped between your legs that wrapped around his waist. Your back arched as you didn't want to break the kiss. A hint of cigarette smoke lingered on his tongue but you didn't mind, not that night. All you wanted was for him to touch you.

Yoongi's hands caressed your thighs before one of them rose beneath your skirt. You gasped when two of his fingers caressed the wet crease in your lacy underwear. Yoongi's eyes opened and found yours. He couldn't believe how wet you were and how hard that made him. Yoongi kissed you deeply, his lips returning to you over and over again for short, hungry kisses. Another one of your gasps filled Yoongi's mouth when his fingers began stroking your sweet spot. The fingers of one of your hands balled around the hem of his shirt whilst the other was tangled in Yoongi's dark hair.

You could feel how hard he was when Yoongi took his hand away and pulled your hips closer. He picked you up and carried you to his bedroom, knowing his way around the dark apartment. Yoongi laid you down on his soft bed before he got up and took off his shirt.

"Help me," you whispered breathlessly as you got to your knees and turned around and pulled your hair aside. Yoongi unzipped your black dress, revealing the lacy back of your matching bra. He pulled the dress off your shoulders and kissed your there, leaving small bites along your soft, perfumed skin. You laid back down and let him pull off your dress completely.

Yoongi was watching you lie on his bed in nothing but your underwear, letting his imagination run wild. Your cheeks flushed pink under his gaze but it was too dark for him to notice. He knew, though, the moonlight was enough.

He took off his pants and grabbed a condom from one of the drawers of his nightstand. His hands were almost shaking with impatience.

Yoongi tasted the moan in your mouth when he entered you. Your nails dug into his back in pleasure as he began moving his hips. You wrapped your legs around his waist, closing in what little space there was left between your bodies. Every thought but one disappeared from your mind - nothing else mattered but the two of you in that moment.

You began to stroke yourself. You didn't think you would feel like it but everything felt so good so you wanted to try.

"Let me do it," said Yoongi, his voice almost a growl. He grabbed a pillow and placed it beneath your hips and replaced your hand with his. He continued thrusting with the same rhythm that made you feel so good but now his fingers were caressing you as well. A loud moan rose from deep within your throat as your hands balled around the bed covers. Your eyes watered from the pleasure you were receiving. Yoongi's eyebrows furrowed into a frown as he watched you take him and come closer and closer.

"Fuck, please don't stop," you begged. Your back arched and your toes curled in pleasure as you felt the release all over your body. Yoongi came just after you, his member pulsating deep inside of you. He didn't pull out right away but leaned down to you and kissed you again. You wrapped around arms lazily around his neck and pulled him closer, your kisses showing him how good he made you feel.

***

You woke up late in the morning, not being able to remember the last time you had such a good night's sleep. You sat up in the unfamiliar bed wearing a hoodie far too large for your frame, the memories of last night coming back to you. Your neck and cheeks flushed red and your skin began to tingle as you fell back into the soft bed and savored the flashbacks. Something was moving in the hallway, a pair of quiet footsteps. Your eyes flashed open as you sat back up. The footsteps left again.

You found your underwear scatted on the bedroom floor and slipped it on quickly along with your dress. You were still holding the cozy hoodie in your arms when you made your way down the hallway and found Yoongi sitting at the kitchen counter. There was a laptop opened in front of him and a coffee in his hand. He rubbed his eyes when he felt your gaze on him and turned to you.

"Hi," you said with a small smile but didn't feel any less awkward.

Yoongi closed the laptop behind him and stood up. "Hi," he exhaled as thoughts stormed behind his eyes. There was a look on his face that you could not read.

"Do you want some coffee?" he offered.

"Sure," you nodded and came closer as he grabbed a cup for you. You placed Yoongi's hoodie on the counter by his laptop. His eyes flickered to it before they returned to you face as he handed you the coffee.

"Thanks," you accepted the drink gratefully, just the scent of it giving you goosebumps.

"Are you okay?" Yoongi asked out of nowhere, catching you off guard.

"Me?" you blurted as you looked up at his dark eyes. He nodded a little. You wondered what he was thinking; you wanted to know so bad but there was no way of telling.

"I'm okay," you nodded before the two of you sat down at the counter together. "Why?" you almost whispered. Yoongi was watching your every move, every breath that you took that made your chest rise and lips part, your fingers tapping nervously against the white cup, the lashes surrounding your beautiful eyes that were looking at him in turn.

You didn't know it then but Yoongi read people for a living and that's why you couldn't read him.

"You've never done this before," said Yoongi. His voice was quiet and smooth but it made you feel almost as if it stripped you naked and not in a good way.

You licked your dry lips as your stomach twisted into painful, anxious knots. He hurt your pride, though, and that hurt even worse. "If you didn't enjoy it, why didn't you just ask me to leave?" you said, almost snapping because no matter how hard you tried not to care, you did.

Yoongi's expression went blank for a moment before he realized what you thought he was insinuating and a smile broke on his lips. "I enjoyed it, that's not what I was saying," he looked down and remembered every second of it. He enjoyed it, he enjoyed it too much - enough to make him want to keep you there forever.

For some reason, Yoongi's genuine reaction made your cheeks even redder but it also made you feel more comfortable, especially now that your pride has been restored and even swelled. His smile was warm and honest unlike the formidable frown you saw him wearing last night at the club. Although in all honesty, you doubted that those guys would have just turned around and left you alone if he hadn't.

"I was just wondering why did you do it?" explained Yoongi. You licked your lips again and looked down at your coffee. You shook your head a little as everything came back to you.

"My best friend decided to cut me out of her life and I wanted to forget about everything," you told the truth when you looked up at Yoongi. As he watched you, he wondered if you had been as close to your friend as he was to his brothers. Even if you weren't, he understood.

"Listen, I ... I was wondering if you could still take me home," you asked slowly and remembered what you said last night. "To my place, I mean ... If it's not too big an inconvenience."

"I'll take you," said Yoongi. "I'll need to know where to pick you up for dinner tonight."

Hoseok

You were dancing with your friends when your eyes locked with a gorgeous man sitting in the VIP section. He was having a drink alone until the security guard let a young man pass into his section. He seemed more like a school boy rather than an adult. The handsome stranger kept his eyes on you a moment longer before he turned to the kid and you found yourself blushing. You turned to your friends and tried not to think about him although it was easier said than done. When you turned around, however, the stranger was no longer there. You frowned a little but figured he was way out of your league anyways and continued dancing.

The club became more crowded by the hour. You pushed your way through the dancing crowd to the bar.

"Can I get a bottle of water, please?" you shouted at the barman over the loud music. He nodded absently, swaying to the rhythm of the music. As you looked across the packed club, you knew it was your time to leave.

"What are we drinking?" asked a smooth voice beside you. You turned and came face to face with the handsome guy from the VIP section.

"It's you," you blurted unintentionally although the loud music hid your surprise a little. The man had a smile on his lips that made your tummy swirl with butterflies.

"Here you go," said the bartender as he sat your bottle of water on the bar. His eyes went to the stranger beside you whilst you thanked him.

"Mr Jung, the usual?" asked the bartender. He stayed still this time and paid attention, no longer dancing to the music and taking orders absently.

You looked at the man beside you. He was smiling still as his eyes shifted between your water and back to your eyes.

"Do you want to have a drink with me?" he asked politely. You stared at him conflicted.

"I ... I was just about to leave," you confessed although the offer was more than tempting. Jung leaned down closer to you, his perfume giving you goosebumps, and you repeated what you said.

"You're not having a good time?" he asked, his eyes taking in every feature of your face.

"No, I did," you said quickly. "But there's too many people now."

"Somewhere quiet then?" asked Jung, his face only inches away from yours. You couldn't help but glance at his beautiful lips and bit yours. Your heart was beating against your throat with excitement.

You nodded.

Before you knew it, you were in a beautiful penthouse apartment sitting on a soft sofa whilst the man, who you learned was Jung Hoseok, opened a bottle of wine. For a moment, you thought that you were in a dream. You were a little tipsy from the club but only so much that you didn't worry about the little things and not enough that it would keep you from feeling slightly nervous.

You had a sip of wine.

"You okay?" asked Hoseok, now sitting beside you as you faced one another. "Want me to take you home?"

"No, I'm okay," you said truthfully. You had never done this before and in your imagination - based on what your friends told you - it was anything but this. The wine, the beautiful apartment, the gorgeous man who made even the most confident parts of yourself feel self-conscious. You imagined it would be in the back of a car somewhere with both you and the random guy you danced with drunk out of your minds.

"I saw the way you danced," said Hoseok, one of his arms outstretched towards you over the back of the sofa, nearly touching your hair.

You blushed and laughed a little. "I can't dance," you shook your head and placed down your glass. Hoseok did the same.

"I beg to differ," said Hoseok, his voice deep and quiet enough to make your heart skip a beat. Your lips parted as you sat only inches apart. Hoseok glanced at your lips before his gaze returned to your eyes. Your butterflies turned into fireworks.

You scooted even closer and caressed his cheek before your lips melted into a soft but passionate kiss. Hoseok's hand slip up your thigh and to your waist where his fingers dug into your soft skin. You couldn't suppress a small moan as he pulled you into his lap and deepened the kiss. Hoseok's hand moved from your knee, beneath your skirt and up your thigh.

You pulled away from the kiss breathlessly. "I've never done this before," you confessed, hoping that he won't change his mind.

"It's okay," murmured Hoseok against your lips, his eyes closed.

"No, not just the one-night stand," you said quietly but responded to his kiss. "I've never ..." You shook your head a little. Hoseok's eyes opened. You couldn't tell what it was that you saw; there was desire and disbelief and something else that you couldn't point out.

"I want to do it," you asserted before Hoseok could even ask. Your fingers were tangled in his hair. "If you're okay with it," you licked your lips, feeling his hot breath on your skin. Hoseok didn't have to say anything - his eyes spoke for him. He found your lips again. His hands slid beneath your thighs as he picked you up and carried you to his bedroom.

Hoseok pulled off his shirt immediately before he helped you out of your dress. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with you between his legs as he took off your clothes and his dark gaze worshiped your body. His mouth was parted, a small shadow of a smirk hiding in the corner of his lips as he looked up at you. Your skin was prickling with fever when you pushed your hair on the side of your neck and kissed him. Hoseok pulled you down to his lap so that you were sitting on one of his thighs with your arms wrapped around his neck. His lips guided your kiss expertly. For a moment, you felt self-conscious about your lack of experience compared to him, but his touch made you forget about everything. One of his arms was locked around your waist whilst the other roamed up your thigh. Hoseok's fingers found their way beneath the hem of your underwear as he squeezed your bum tightly, making you moan against his lips. Hoseok took his hand back and traced the hemline of your waist until he reached the front but he never broke the deep kiss. His long fingers caressed over the fabric of your underwear and slid down to your pussy. His middle and ring finger grazed through your crease, finding the fabric completely soaked through. You gasped at his gentle but confident touch, your pussy throbbing beneath his fingers.

Hoseok pulled away from the kiss and opened his eyes, a soft grin in the corner of his lips when he saw how needy you were. Your glossy eyes begged him not to tease you and he obliged. Hoseok kissed you again, more hungrily now as the fingers of his one hand dug into the soft flesh of your waist and of the other pushed your underwear aside and caressing you skin to skin. You whimpered when his thumb found your clit and drew circles against it whilst he stroked the rest of you with his two long fingers. Hoseok didn't even have to slide his fingers inside of you to make you come because you were already gasping and moaning against his neck. He decided to push you a little further and dipped his fingers inside of you. Another whimper filled your mouth, followed by a series of cries as you reached another climax and your thighs began to quiver.

"That's it," groaned Hoseok quietly against your ear as he let you rest against his neck. "Look how well you did." He wrapped both of his arms around you and held you close. If he hadn't already been rock hard from seeing your body and touching you, the look of drunken pleasure on your face would have done it for him.

Hoseok left small, tender kisses down your neck. "You smell so nice," he murmured when he felt your fingers run through the hair on the back of his head. You moved your lips to his shoulder and kissed him, slowly reaching up his neck and jaw until you found his lips. He tasted and felt so good that you never wanted to break the kiss and for a while longer your wish would be granted.

Hoseok took off his trousers and found a condom whilst you pulled off your underwear. His eyes watched you as you did so, another rush of desire shooting through him.

"Come here," muttered Hoseok as he climbed on top of you and pulled you closer. He found your lips again, kissing you and kissing you until you were breathless and reaching for him. A whimper-like moan escaped your mouth when he entered you slowly, his hand holding down one of your wrists. You frowned in pleasure as your fingers dug into the small of his back. Hoseok was watching you, checking on you although there was no need. You only wanted more.

Hoseok moved his hips, entering you deeper and deeper. You winced from sensitivity and pleasure whenever he touched your clit. You went to touch yourself but Hoseok took your wrists and pinned them beside your head as he stopped thrusting his hips. You opened your pleasure-drunk eyes and saw him watching you with an amused look in his dark irises.

"Not yet," he said to you and let go of your wrists as he almost sat up. He took in the sight of your body - little silvers of your come on your stomach where he traced his fingers, your breasts and nipples perfect to touch and kiss and stroke, but most of all the dreamy look in your eyes.

"Look at you ..." Hoseok said to himself. "How pretty you are for me, little kitten," he murmured as he came back down and gave you a kiss different from the others.

Hoseok began moving his hips again, this time his pace faster and his length entering you fully. Your mouth was full of soft moans as you inched closer again. Hoseok reached down and caressed your little sweet spot, making your thighs quiver in matter of seconds. Even as you came again, Hoseok didn't slow down but picked up his pace instead. His fingers were soaked with your come when he locked them with yours, his other hand propped against the bed when he came as well. He squeezed your hand tightly before he released it. Hoseok leaned his forehead against yours, his chest heaving as you felt him throb deep inside of you. Your legs were wrapped around his hips even after he was done and he was in no hurry of pulling out.

***

Come morning, a small moan caught in your throat as you turned in the soft bed and buried your face into the soft pillow. You stretched your sore legs before you blinked slowly and adjusted to the morning light. It took you a moment to remember last night, and when you did, your face was flushed and your eyes grew wide open. Your heart was pumping hard in your chest when you sat up and looked around the spacious bedroom. The mattress beside you was empty but you could hear little noises coming from the rest of the apartment.

You got out of bed and tiptoed around the carpet as you collected your underwear and your dress. The bathroom door was cracked open and you slipped inside. You got dressed and washed your face, holding a hand of cool water against the back of your neck as you struggled to clear your head of the memories of last night. Your insides were tingling with butterflies just at the thought of Hoseok touching your body - you didn't even know how you would look him in the eye later. Perhaps you wouldn't even have to, you thought, remembering all the stories your friends told you about horrible one-night stands. Your heart sunk a little at the idea, but on the other hand, you couldn't expect much else from this.

You brushed your hair with your fingers as you made your way down the hallway, following the sounds that were coming from the kitchen.

Jung Hoseok was standing behind the kitchen isle, a neat wooden tray sitting on top of it. There was a croissant, a bowl of mixed berries, a glass of orange juice and he had just placed a cup of coffee on there as well. His sharp eyebrows were arched in a frown and his lips were parted slightly. He wore a classic white shirt and a pair of elegant black trousers with a metallic watch glimmering on his wrist. Hoseok's dark eyes looked up at you suddenly when he felt someone watching him.

"Good morning," he spoke, his formidable frown replaced immediately with a warm smile like sunshine breaking through a storm. You blushed.

"Hi," you greeted as you fixed the thin strap of your dress and came a little bit closer. "Should I ..." you asked carefully, gesturing in the direction of the exit if you remembered correctly from last night.

Hoseok frowned a little. "You don't have to leave yet," he said, his eyes glancing down at your exposed shoulders. "I made you breakfast."

"It's for me?" you asked, the corners of your eyebrows curved downwards when you looked at the beautiful tray.

"Of course," smiled Hoseok. "Sit down." As he made his way past you, his hand touched your waist and his lips kissed your cheek.

"I'll be right back."

His touch left tingles on your skin as you watched him disappear down the hallway before you sat down at the kitchen isle. The fresh smell of berries and the crisp scent of the pastry invited you. You took the coffee first, however, and took a sip before you wrapped your cold hands around the warm porcelain.

"Here," said Hoseok when he appeared beside you. He handed you a soft black hoodie and you looked up at him surprised. There were goosebumps on your arms and the morning was much colder than the hot night when you were dancing in the club.

"How did you sleep?" asked Hoseok with a smile as he grabbed his own cup of coffee and sat down beside you after you pulled on his hoodie and melted into its softness.

"Great, thank you," you nodded and stole a few berries from the neat white bowl. You were about to ask him the same but he spoke first.

"How are you feeling?" Hoseok smile faded a little as a soft frown gathered on his handsome face. You stopped chewing for a moment, taken back by the question, and your cheeks grew pink.

"I'm okay," you said more quietly now and focused on your coffee cup.

"Are you sure?" asked Hoseok. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest as he took in every little detail of your beautiful face. He kept thinking how he should have been gentler and how he should have asked you more if you were okay. Hoseok was well aware that you were practically strangers but there was something that drew him to you, that made him want to protect you and take care of you at any cost.

Hoseok tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gentle gesture made you look up into his warm, dark eyes.

"Yeah," you nodded. "I'm great, it was great."

Hoseok studied your features a moment longer but you were telling the truth. In fact, your words were an understatement about how you felt about last night.

You bit your lip as you couldn't help but glance at Hoseok's lips, wondering what it would be like to have him kiss you again. But you knew it was just a one time thing and that you were done now.

You looked away but Hoseok saw everything and it made his heart skip a beat.

"Have dinner with me tonight?" he asked out of nowhere, the question sounding more as a statement. Your gaze shot up at him.

"What?" you almost stuttered.

"Have dinner with me tonight," Hoseok spoke again; this time there was no room for question.

"But ... you barely know me," you shook your head a little although the thought of it awoke every last butterfly in your body.

"I'll get to know you," said Hoseok quietly as a small smile grew on his features and he leaned in closer. Your eyes fell to his beautiful lips and a sharp breath caught in the back of your throat.

"Okay," you nodded weakly when you saw Hoseok's gaze shift from your eyes to your lips.

"Good." Hoseok closed the space between you as his lips found yours, making your tummy explode with fireworks.

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Our Little Love part eight - OT7 Mafia/Yandere au

Mr Kim has a chapter all to himself of 6.8K words, please enjoy and PLEASE let me know what you think. Trigger warnings: manipulation, coercion, corruption, interrogation, mentions of murder and other crimes, swearing, jealousy, possessive yandere behaviour, fingering, orgasm denial, mirror sex, light choking. I am awful with warnings, please forgive me.

Namjoon wasn’t all that impressed with seeing the Chief of police visiting his cell, the syndicate boss was dressed too well to belong there, it was almost an eyesore. A glance to the camera, the normal red blinking light absent tells him all he needs to know. There were no eyes or ears to this conversation. 

“I thought I paid you to keep your men in line,” Namjoon says in lieu of greeting. “Was a bullet to the knee not warning enough for your dear Captain?”

“He wasn’t an issue when I spoke to him, the man was on leave!” the chief replied. “Your girl was the problem he-”

“Be very careful how you finish that sentence,” he advised with a deep angry rumble from his chest. “I am well aware who is at fault here, and regardless of what our little love does, she is never to blame.”

Chief Lee Soo-man only nods once, biting back his complaints.

“I asked you to sort out Kim Suho, I told you to keep him in check,” Namjoon growls. “Keeping your pockets full isn’t an act of charity Lee, it’s a purchase. I own you.”

“Yes sir,” he mumbles in response. “I assure you this arrest is just a formality, the case won’t stand once it’s revealed Detective L/n-”

The glare the man in the blazerless three piece suit gave him was enough to stop him in his tracks. Right, he couldn’t involve you in this, that was going to make things harder than they needed to be.

“What do you recommend then sir?” he asks when he finds his voice and wavering courage. 

Namjoon sighs harshly, and the Chief swears he can almost see smoke. 

“I want to be alone with my little love,” it’s not a request, the chief didn’t let the soft lilt of his fool him. 

“I don’t know how that would be poss-”

“I want-” Namjoon cuts in, unable to bear another second of this blithering idiot, “her to be the one to interrogate me. And I can trust you understand the rest.”

“Y-yessssir,” he stutters, not completely hearing the words between the lines, and that was clear enough on his face. 

“I want her alone, Sooman,” Namjoon repeats himself, if this were one of his men he would never have needed to. “I don’t want a single soul witness to what I’m going to do to her.”

—

Suho tugs you along by the arm, stumbling in his urgent pace, pulling you out of ear shot.

“We have a problem.”

“What problem?”

“I’m technically on health leave, brass says I can’t interrogate him,” he stares a hole into you as if his eyes were telling you the rest but you couldn’t understand.

“Okay so who’s replacing you?”

He huffs out a breath of air from his nose, knowing you weren’t going to like the command from way over his head.

Your heart beats hard in anticipation, why was he looking at you like that?

“As far as Brass are aware you were deep undercover,” Suho informs you slowly, deliberately, looking like he was about to tear your world to trash. He sighs, unable to get the words out.

“Suho what?”

“They want you to interrogate him,” he breathes, you think you’ve misheard him, but you know you haven’t.

Your world spins, you’re already shaking your head.

“I can’t,” you whisper, he knows full well that you can’t. “I resigned, I’m not a detective anymore.”

He sighs again, hesitation in his eyes. 

“I never processed it,” he confesses.

“Y-you di-”

“I couldn’t, I knew you would see reason, I knew you would come back,” he doesn’t let you process the shock, explaining himself quickly. 

“Suho I can’t I can’t,” you beg, the conviction you had to punish them now suddenly taking a back seat as fear overtakes you, “right now they believe I was deep undercover but he’s not going to let that-“

“Listen to me,” he interrupts you before you can fully submerge into a panic attack, taking your hand in his. “I’m going to be in the next room, as soon as he says anything that compromises you, I’ll turn off the cameras, okay?”

“But-“

You’re interrupted again when the door opens, both of you whipping your heads to see him being transferred by four officers to the interrogation room. His eyes find you, staring stoic holes into you before his gaze finds Suho’s hands comforting yours. The snarl of displeasure is brief but you definitely see it, and you can’t breathe.

Suho draws your attention back to him, tugging your hand softly.

“Do you trust me Y/n?” he implores you, eyes searching yours in a way that made Namjoon want to strangle him with the chains on his handcuffs. You look up at your Captain with such light in your eyes, a way you should never look at another man, and then you have the audacity to nod. 

—

You’ve done this a hundred times, if not more. So why were you hesitating at the door? Your hand on the handle, all you had to do was turn it and face the music but you couldn’t even manage finding your breath. 

Interrogation was a science, it was like riding a bike, you knew what you had to do, you had to command the room. It almost sounded like a joke, the worst one you’d ever heard. Command a room when Kim Namjoon was in it? 

The thought makes you hyperventilate. No, it wasn’t going to be easy but you could control what you could. You borrowed clothes from an old colleague, a skirt and blouse, simple but professional. Suho’s old blazer too, as if layers would protect you. You had splashed water on your face in the bathroom, using makeup from evidence to make yourself look presentable, composed. Your impromptu freshening up had meant you left the syndicate leader waiting for a long time, and it absolutely 100% was not because you were trying to kill time, it was to make him stew in the room, a technique you had used multiple times prev- who were you trying to convince? 

You needed to get this over with. 

Your face is impassive when you finally open the door, his gaze is on you immediately and you can feel a certain type of guilt and shame try to seep its way into you, but you push it down far enough that you can pretend it’s not there.

“Mr Kim Namjoon,” you greet him stoically.

“Detective L/n,” he returns, playing along with a small smile, as if seeing an old acquaintance after a long time. The way he addressed you shouldn’t cut you, logically it made no sense not when you’re the one that got him in the box, but it did. 

You approach the table he’s chained to, looking at the wood instead of his eyes as if he didn’t matter, or at least that’s how you wanted it perceived. Avoiding eye contact with the most dangerous man the whole country had ever come to know, meant you missed the way his stare moved to your clothes, particularly your blazer, recognising it was a man’s, and he could confidently guess exactly who it belonged to. Any friendliness on his face disappeared, he wanted to play games and now he just wanted to torture you a little, punish you for you actions. Patience, he tells himself, that would come later.

The file in your hands slaps the table as you throw it down, taking a seat opposite your boyfriend, a man you now convinced yourself you wanted behind bars. 

What do they say about a woman scorned? Namjoon thinks to himself, admiring the fire he could see burning underneath your skin, and though he knew he would feel the burn, he would welcome it. It was no secret that he had a fantasy about you interrogating him, he introduced the role play to the bedroom soon after your return to them but it lacked the flames of heat he could feel today. 

“Allow me to formally introduce myself,” you reply. “My name is detective Y/n L/n, I’ve been undercover at your… establishment for the past year and a half.”

“Is that right?” he barely suppressed his amusement but it didn’t phase you. Your professional head was on, this was just another criminal you had to put away, that was it. 

You open the file, sliding out photos of him that you had sent in as intel in your early days undercover as well as surveillance photos that Suho had taken since you were MIA. 

“Do you know who this man is Mr Kim,” you say, sliding the first of the photos to him.

“Can’t say I do detective,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not even glancing away from you. 

“Do you want to try looking at his face first before you answer,” you insisted unimpressed. 

He smiles, still staring at you. 

“I don’t recognise him,” he repeats himself slowly. 

“So this isn’t you in the photo?” You ask.

“I don’t know,” his grin only grows.

“This man, Jackson Wang, is dead, and the last person who saw him alive seems to have been you Mr Kim, at least based on the time stamp on this photo and the time of death from the post mortem.”

“Is that right,” he says again, sounding like a broken record. His eyes swim with admiration for you, you can see it though you can’t understand it at all with the current scene. Why wasn’t he fuming, why wasn’t he demanding an answer or explanation?

“Okay let's cut the crap since I know you’re far too clever for that Mr Kim,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes. “I have gathered evidence of your crimes from the last 18 months, and I will stand in court as a witness against you.”

“Are you allowed to do that little love?” he asks, the name has a pang of panic hit you, but you tell yourself you can explain it away to brass.

“The charges you're facing so far are murder, battery, and grand larceny to name a few,” you state ignoring him, flicking through the photos, throwing each one in front of him. “There are many more to follow.”

“I didn’t know partners could testify against each other,” he mused, smirk still strong on his face.

“I’m not your partner,” you object. “I was undercover.”

“No,” he contends, shaking his head like this was just a game to him. “You can’t fake a love like ours, heaven.”

You almost snort as if his point was ridiculous.

“I don’t think I could ever love someone like you Mr Kim,” your stare was ice cold, that finally wipes the smile off his face. 

“You’re angry,” he states as if it was new information for you. “I get that little love, but this is a bit too much, don’t you think?”

“I think justice needs to be served, don't you?” you sneered. “People got hurt, some people died, someone needs to pay.”

“You and I both know they deserved it,” he declares as if there wasn’t a camera recording his confession. “You’re just angry because I stepped on a bug.”

Utter rage brewed like a storm in your chest, and you wanted the downpour to drown him. 

“You sound like you’re ready to sign the confession Mr Kim,” you don’t break your stare. “That’s great, saves us a lot of time, thank you.”

You close the file, pushing the chair back to stand. 

“I’m not done with you,” he growled.

“But I’m done with you.” 

“Y/n sit,” he commands calmly, composing himself. “Throwing a fit isn’t going to fix things.”

“Throwing a fit?” The audacity of this man, you stand there in shock. 

“Let’s talk it through,” he says to you as if you were being hysterical. 

“Fuck you,” you spit. 

“Talk to me Y/n,” he scolded you like you were a child. “Without this bullshit.”

“Fine! You wanna talk about it Namjoon,” you snapped, taking the seat again, throwing the file haphazardly on the desk. “Let’s talk about it.”

The glare you present him with doesn’t make him flinch, it doesn’t phase him. You hope Suho had enough sense to turn the cameras off by now, this would go nowhere. 

“You manipulated me, you lied to me, you made me play the fool.”

He didn’t react, not a single muscle on his face moved and it fanned whatever flame explode inside of you like a bomb. This was his true colours underneath the mask of love and adoration he created for you.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore Namjoon I can see right through you,” you state. “And you are never touching me again.”

That made him look at you, really look at you, something shifted in his gaze, a slight smirk as if he was mocking you.

You could cry kick and scream about the injustice he put you through in the name of this fucked up love and he wouldn’t flinch. He would sit there and watch and then the fucker would have the audacity to laugh afterwards. He must’ve laughed at how stupid you were in trusting him when he lied.

“At least if you go to prison, I’ll finally be free,” you whisper like it’s a life line.

He’s still unmoved, sitting there as if you were invisible and it irked the fuck out of you. He was the one who wanted to talk, why the fuck was he silent now? 

You wanted him to hurt you wanted him to feel an ounce of what you did in the light of his betrayal. He tore your heart out and you weren’t going to forgive him.

“I must’ve looked so pathetic,” you say in a self deprecating tone, looking at the ceiling as if someone could answer you. “Suho was right.”

That comment makes his blood boil hard enough to show on his face. There it was, the reaction you were waiting for and you took the bait without thinking about what you were trying to catch or what you were trapped with.

“I should’ve trusted him, he’s always had my back and my best interest at heart.”

His jaw clenches, a fist squeezing nothing but air although he probably wished it was the captain's neck.

“Kai and Suho are all I have left,” you goad him, unsure of what exactly it was that you wanted to prove. “And finally I’m back where I belong.”

“If you don’t want a bullet in each of their heads, you need to stop talking love,” he grunts through gritted teeth.

Something inside of you felt vindicated and you realise then what you wanted from him, proof he fucking cared, that you weren’t some pawn or prize in this game of crime. You wanted him to soothe the very cuts he caused, or rip your heart out hard enough that you could bleed him out of your system forever.

“Oh please Namjoon, just admit why you kept me around for so long,” you scoff. “I can only imagine how it felt to have the lead detective on your case in the palm of your hands, like a trophy, a big fuck you to the justice system.”

You laugh sounding a little maniacal.

“You had me, and I fell for all of it.”

“You’re forgetting I didn’t know your true origins at first little love,” his low voice is a warning, he looks at you like he needed to remind you who you belonged to.

“And you’re forgetting I know you,” you bite back. “Any hint of betrayal and you pull the trigger first and ask questions later.”

He stares at you, grimacing.

“And yet here I am, alive.”

“Because I love you,” he says it so casually it throws you off, like it was a fundamental part of his being, like breathing.

“Because you saw an opportunity,” you rationalise.

“Because I could never lose you,” he confesses. “You could rip out my heart, little love and I would still want you, why else would I be here?”

You frown, what did he mean? He was here because you paid an eye for an eye, you betrayed him.

“What’s done is done,” you say as if you were unconcerned. “I will testify against you.”

He leans closer across the table, words for your ears only.

“Do you think you’ll be able to handle seeing Jungkook in prison, love?” Namjoon whispers. “Knowing you put him there? It would kill you.”

The pain his words brought forth only proved them to be true. You did have a soft spot for the youngest, always had. You break eye contact first, looking down at the file and turning back and forth a page as if in contemplation but really to cool your nerves.

Were you really doing this? Sending Yoongi, Jin, Hoseok, Jimin, Tae and Kookie to jail because of an angry outburst? Now your emotions had time to settle after the bomb that exploded when you saw Suho; you weren’t so sure.

“I never thought you could betray us like this,” he says solemnly, continuing to manipulate your guilt, but he forgot about your fire. He could almost see the coals ignite in your eyes, a misstep on his part, one he realised when a snarl forms on your lips.

“You. Lied.” You state ferociously. “I asked you if you hurt him and you lied to me.”

“So you decided to have us all arrested,” he continues, “for a man you stated you didn’t care about like that.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you seethe, unable to sit with him any longer, pacing the room before you raised a finger to his face. “You played me like a fool Namjoon, and I refuse to play the part anymore.”

“I wanted him dead, little love,” he states in a low voice through gritted teeth. “Do you understand what a mercy-”

“I asked you not to hurt him!”

“Then you underestimated our wrath!” he retorted. “I couldn’t let him go in one piece, and you didn’t need to know.”

“No. You underestimated MY wrath Kim Namjoon!” You burst, slamming the desk with your hand, the sting burning, your face heating more and more with rage as it concealed your heartache. “I am not some docile doll for you to play with, and manipulate and LIE TO! You took my love for granted when it was a damn fucking privilege.”

Your chest heaves with each breath, he stayed composed while you looked like a wild animal finally let out of her cage.

“You think this obsession is love,” your voice broke at the last word, the floods of heartbreak dampening the fires. “And I did too, but it’s fucked up everything.”

His silence was eating you alive, his face giving nothing of his heart away while yours laid bare out between you.

“You know what I’m done,” you breathe, “have fun rotting in jail Namjoon.”

Tears drop out of the corner of your eyes as you walk away, his piercing gaze doing nothing to deter you. He might’ve had power over you once but that was before he betrayed you. You reach for the door handle, tugging, ready to leave him behind until his trial, but the door doesn’t budge. You still, mind blank for a second before panic overwhelms you. You try again with all your might, pulling as hard as you can over and over before releasing your grip with a harsh breath. You take a gulp, calming yourself, he planned this.

You’re not surprised when you hear the sound of the handcuffs undo or the chains hit the floor. Fucking bastard. An alarm started blaring in the building, loud and overwhelming, but it came too late. Red lights flash, the room glowing as if warning you about the oncoming danger.

“Are we done with your outburst little love,” he says coldly, like your grievances were nothing more than a tantrum.

You turn to face him slowly, more tears dropping without a sound, shaking your head at the way his words cut you down to nothing.

When he stands from the seat your heart gallops with fear and panic. Although it’s helpless you turn back to the door, trying with all your might to open it and escape him. The fire alarm blaring does nothing to ease you, you hang onto the door as you feel him approach, tears falling out of your eyes without control.

Fuck, you were stuck here with the man you sent to jail, you were left to his mercy. His presence looms over you, you can feel him a hair's width behind you, not touching you, not really, but he’s so close it’s overwhelming.

It’s when you feel his breath you freeze, your body shutting down with dread. He presses his cheek to your hair, inhaling you softly. The action makes you jolt away, turning to the side but he grabs your wrist tightly. You don’t look at him, you stare into the two way mirror, your cheeks pathetically wet. You were supposed to hold the power in this room, but you could feel it dwindle away to nothing but smoke.

You’re slammed against the door hard, a whimper escaping your lips as your eyes scrunched in pain. You miss the flash of guilt in his eyes, realising he pushed you too hard. An apology on his lips but the glare when your eyes open stops him. He’s seen anger in your eyes before, hate even, for he knew love didn’t come without it. But fear? Never of him, not even in the days when you were undercover and your life was one unveiled secret away from ending. 

“Get away from me,” you seethe, meaning every word, even when you saw the hurt in his eyes. 

Regret, Kim Namjoon never knew the feeling before, but he knew he never wanted you to look at him the way you were. He needed to keep his calm, one wrong push and you would tear him out of your own heart.

Your eyes fly all over the room, trying to piece together a way to gain some distance. Suho… maybe he was still behind the glass. You tug your wrist as hard as you can, taking steps away from him but his hold is relentless. The blare of the alarm stops ringing but the flashing red lights remain, staining the walls like blood pumping.

“Little lo-“ he starts to say with a sigh, he was being patient but there was only so much time left.

“Suho?” You call desperately trying to look through the glass. You know you’ve made a mistake before you even said his name but fear drives people to do stupid things without thinking.

The most notorious criminal in all of Seoul pulls you back against his chest hard. An arm wraps around your waist, the unforgiving grip on your wrist turning lethal. He rests his chin on your shoulder, staring at you through the mirror. The hairs on your skin stood on end at the frightening change in his eyes, danger rolled off of him and you had no choice but to take every wave.

“Do you think he’s there, love?” The corner of his lip lifts in a smirk that makes you think of a snake, the saccharine tone of his voice hypnotising. “Do you think he’s watching us?”

The palm on your hip moves down to your thigh, he squeezes the flesh. You could feel your heart jumping in your throat.

“Should we give him something to watch?” He murmurs seductively, turning his head to bring his lips so close to your neck. The bruising clutch on your wrist is gone only to find its way to your hair, yanking it back to give himself better access.

Your eyes in the mirror are begging but the inner turmoil from his touch is making you question what exactly you’re asking for. Reason tells you it’s for Suho to save you, to grant you escape, but the way you feel a familiar heat swim to your core has you doubting yourself.

“If he was in there,” he whispers, his lips now on your ear, “don’t you think he’d come in here and try to take you from me, love?”

He chuckles to himself, a joke only he can understand.

“Fuck I’d love to see him try.”

His groan has you aching, your body relapsing to what it knows, anticipating the pleasure and pain only they could provide. 

​​“I’m not mad at you for having us arrested, heaven,” he whispers in your ear, gaze softening for a second in the mirror lulling you into a sense of security you couldn’t tell if it was a trap. “In fact I’m a little in awe, a little proud.”

The smirk he gives you seems genuine.

“We deserved it I know,” reassurance fills his voice, he wants you to hear his sincerity. “What I’m mad about, little love…”

The softness is gone, eyes turn piercing, the proverbial snake about to strike.

“Is the fact you let another man touch what’s mine.”

The guttural rumble of his possessive claim sent waves of need down to your cunt, you could feel it pulsing. 

“I’m mine,” you return meekly, trying to find your resolve, but it sounded like a whine.

“Make no mistake Y/n, you’re always going to be mine.”

You didn’t have it in you to argue, not when he sent your eyes rolling back and a shiver down your spine. Fuck he hadn’t even touched you yet, maybe it was true, maybe a part of you would always belong to them, but that didn’t mean all if you did.

“Look at me,” he commands, his breath hitting your neck.

Your blown out eyes meet him in the mirror, that predatory but protective gaze piercing through you. He hums in approval the deep vibration fucking with your senses, making you hazy. 

You both hold eye contact even when you can see the fingers on your thigh stroke soothing circles up your skin. Your lips part with a harsh breath when they rub your mound through the fabric of your panties, the touch light and testing and not nearly enough. 

“You’re fucking soaking wet baby,” he calls you out with a grin.

You grab his wrist when his fingers cup your heat, his thumb soothing circles on your clit. You press against him, the warmth of his chest enveloping your back. You both fit so well together, you were forgetting why exactly you were so angry at him, but simmers of it still remained even through his touch. 

“You know,” he says, opening your leg with his knee to give him more access, “a lot of couples fuck through their problems, should we try?”

He hides his grin, burying his head in you but you can feel it against your skin, the arrogant asshole. 

“You can go and fuck yourself,” you sassed back, lying to yourself that you could be fine if he stopped now, that it wouldn’t leave you a needy mess. 

“But I’d rather fuck you,” he chuckles, breathing you in, savouring the moment while his fingers slide the fabric aside. 

You choke back a moan at the contact of his skin right where you wanted him, the way he spread your wetness until every inch of you was covered in it. 

“You can pretend to regret our relationship all you want, but this,” he emphasises his point by slapping your cunt hard, making you gasp, “still wants me.”

“It wants to get fucked,” you spitefully remark through gritted teeth, “doesn’t have to be you.”

That makes him pause, and you have to bite back the words of displeasure. 

“You’ll pay for that next time love,” he murmurs dangerously. 

“There won’t be a next time,” you try to ridicule him through a laugh but his fingers circle your entrance. 

“You’re lying,” he hums, “next time, I think we should tie you down, make you watch other women touch us in ways only you’re allowed to.”

You bury the fury that ruptures at the image, clenching your jaw to keep from swearing at him and proving the point he was trying to make.

“Maybe then you’d have a semblance of understanding of what you did- the torture you put us through.”

“I wouldn’t care,” you breathe, squirming against his fingers, he needed to shut up and move.

“Liar,” he chuckles knowingly, seeing right through you. Before you, there were many females in his organisation, until his little love demanded he get rid of them all. The memory stretches his grin wider. 

“Why the fuck was it me?” You whisper, your eyes starting to water at the vulnerability of your tone, remembering the same moment he was. “When I went undercover there were so many beautiful women-“

“They’re not you, little love, don’t for a second compare yourself to them,” he kisses your temple softly in reassurance. His face is in your hair, his hand on your throat as you preen to his touch. “You were sweet and addicting with a fire you were trying so desperately to contain.”

He thrusts two fingers in gently, watching your face contort in want in the mirror, smiling at the way your eyes rolled back. You whimper when he squeezes his grip on your neck.

“To think that passion we saw in your eyes was hatred at first,” he smiles as if amused, watching every little reaction you gave him, every proof of love.

“I did,” you confess, pressing your ass against his hard length and making him groan, “I hated you.”

“You were sent to destroy us, love, but instead you reached into our souls and thought there was something worth saving,” he chuckled, nuzzling into you softly as if he wasn’t knuckle deep inside of you, feeling every part he knew so well. “And save us you did, it was so dark before you our little light, how could we ever let you leave?”

“You’re fucking with my head,” you whimper, head falling back to his chest, it rumbles when he laughs.

“Hmmm? I’m definitely fucking your brains out today Y/n,” he promises with a chuckle, kissing your temple again, but emphasising his point when he scissors his fingers reading you for his cock. “If that’s what you mean.”

This was your fault, you knew what you were getting into when you fell for them. You especially knew Namjoon was the worst of them all. You let his soft side brush away his true nature, and while you never forgot his ruthless persona, you put it to the back of your mind. You foolishly thought you had tamed his cunning cold cruel- 

“Oh fuck,” whatever train of thought you had died, the palm of his hand rubbing your clit, stimulating your already aching cunt to the edge. Your parted lips open wider to release a silent scream, his fingers stroking so deep.

You were so close, you could taste it, unable to control the delirious sounds escaping you. So when he stops and slips his fingers away from you, you have to stop yourself screaming in protest. 

“Up against the mirror Y/n,” he commands gruffly, but you don’t move, you were so fucking close. Fuck him, fucking asshole, you were so fucking close. 

He picks you up with ease, pushing you against the wall so your breath fogs the surface. You hear the zip pull down, your forehead falls forward, your core pulsing in anticipation. He grabs your leg, opening you for him, the head of his cock sliding across your folds until you're whining.

“Stop squirming love,” he warns, but you don’t listen, of course you don’t, so he makes you listen. 

The sound you release when he slaps your clit with his hard dick over and over has him questioning his restraint, fuck he wants to just pound into you but you needed to be taught a fucking lesson. 

“Joonie sensitive,” you whine, but he’s relentless, making you cry out over and over. Fuck you could actually maybe cum like this. 

His self control wavers, his jaw clenched with such a force he thinks it’ll shatter. He couldn’t take it anymore, the swell of his head finds your entrance. Inch by inch, he relishes the feeling of your walls hugging him so fucking tight, the pulse of them pulling him in. He leans over you, trying to regain composure but you feel so good he doesn’t want to move, he wants to stay like this forever, inside of you where he belongs. 

You try to push back into him, but he grabs your waist with one hand to keep you still, grinding his hips against you and he knows it’s not enough. 

“Look at you arching your back little love,” he smirks, “Your body knows where you belong, it’s a shame you tried to take it away from me.”

Your hands ball into fists on the mirror, you can’t even look at yourself right now, you can’t stop writhing on the surface, trying so hard to get him to move. You squeeze him hard, making his head fall against you with a grunt. 

“Behave little love,” he warns, “or I’ll show your colleagues just how well you can take me.”

“Make me,” you dare him even though it comes out as a mumble. 

You were dizzy and disorientated and all you wanted was for him to fucking move. He pushes you against the wall hard, every inch of him covering you so you couldn’t budge. You whine, the cold of the hard surface making you seek his warm body, you slot against him like a damn puzzle piece. He was hell bent on torturing you today, as if you hadn’t suffered enough. 

“Joonie move,” you almost sound like a brat, trying to order him around. 

“I’ll move when I’m ready,” he growls animalistically, barely holding himself back, but he needed to savour this.

You do everything you can to break his control, writhing against him like a bitch in heat. He swallows hard when you clench again. He spanks your ass hard in return, the air gets thicker, you find it harder to breathe. You keep still, the sting of your ass satisfying your craving for a moment, but not for long. 

He picks up your skirt, watching himself inside you, watching the beautiful mess you were making. So wet, so perfect, how did you ever think for a second he would ever let this go? The sight is too much, he releases a restrained groan, done with holding himself back. 

His hand grips your cheeks, turning your mouth to his, forcing his tongue down your throat as he finally pulls out only to push back in impossibly deeper. You took every punishing thrust, his presence surrounding you everywhere, even in front of you where his reflection painted the surface. He smothered you with his existence, the heat of him scolding, but you liked it, you craved it. 

“Do you think your ‘friend’ understands who you fucking belong to now detective L/n?” He chuckles deeply watching your fucked out face in the mirror.

He uses his grip under your knee to turn you towards the camera in the corner of the room.

“Think they can all see little love?” He pants. “How well you fucking take it? How good you are for me?”

You shake your head in protest but it feels too good. Your head falls back on him without the mirror to lean against. His fingers find your clit, his sole purpose to make you lose yourself to him. 

“Fuck look at you shaking baby,” he groans, feeling you pulse around him, drawing closer to the edge. “Your poor pussy just needs to come huh?”

You can hear the smirk in his tone, fucking self satisfied prick. 

“Not as badly as you need it,” you taunt back, feeling your defiance flare despite how your body was begging you to behave.. 

“Fuck you might be right,” he groans, going harder, faster. “I’m always going to need it.”

His confession takes you over, the words pushing you so hard you come apart violently, thrashing against him as you unravel, but he holds you tight. He doesn’t let you fall. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think, all you could feel was him and the burst of pleasure that carried on wave after wave, and you never wanted it to stop.

“This is mine,” he grunts as he comes undone inside of you, fucking his cum deeper until it got through to your soul. 

He was a part of you, and you could try to deny it now with his mistakes on the table, but he was so embedded in the fabric of you he couldn’t see where he began and where you ended. His entire existence was for you, it was only fair your cunt, body and soul belonged to him. Maybe the others too, as an afterthought, but you were his first.

He feels the mess slide out of you as he leaves your warmth, turning you softly so you could lean against him as you catch your breath. He holds you tight, arn arm around your middle like the steel of a bar. He has every intention of letting you recover but the way you look up at him with those glossy eyes confirms the fact he will never be satiated, he will always want more of you even if there was nothing left to give. 

“Our little love,” he breathes in your face, stealing a hard kiss, “our little downfall.”

His mouth held you prisoner again and again, humming pleasantly as you let him devour you in so many ways. His kiss was bruising, hungry, overindulging.

Your eyes search his as he parts reluctantly, your mind still hazy, the bliss of sex still circulating your body.

“Why did you lie to me?” You whisper breathlessly against his lips as you come down, and he can hear the vulnerability in your tone, it makes a guilt spread across his chest that feels almost alien. The way you could make him ache like no one else, he should cast you aside for introducing a weakness in him but he wouldn’t even dream of it.

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he confesses sincerely. “I didn’t want you to hate me.”

“I asked you not to hurt him,” your eyes tear up again, and he curses himself and the existence of Kim Suho.

“I know.”

“But you did it anyway,” you continue, “and then you had the gall to lie to my face.”

You wipe away the tears that fall harshly, your mind clearing. You push him away and fix yourself up, knowing from the glances in the mirror you were a mess.

“You always own up to your actions, right or wrong, you never hide them,” you laugh and you think you must sound psychotic. “The Kim Namjoon… I remember the days you would drop dead bodies in front of me without remorse, without ever feeling the need to explain yourself.”

“I was testing you then,” he grunts, remembering those days well. “I needed to know you had the stomach to be with us.”

“I hated you so much,” you confess, swallowing down a sob. “And for the first time since I fell in love with you Joonie, I can feel that hate grow again.”

His jaw clenches, his fist too. He could feel a threat on the tip of his lips, one where the Captain's head would end up on a plate in front of you for dinner but he holds himself back.

“You don’t mean that,” he says between gritted teeth.

“I had you fucking arrested Namjoon,” you argue back fiercely. “Don't tell me what I mean or don’t mean.”

“You also fucked me after the fact,” he states and the harsh words slap you hard. You did. You let him defile you here only moments ago.

“Old habits die hard.”

“Not with me love,” he dismisses the thought. “Not as long as I’m alive.”

“We’ll see,” you challenge, feeling that earlier conviction rise. 

“Understand something Y/n,” he says seriously, his face solemn and hard in a way you had witnessed rarely. This was Kim Namjoon with something to lose. “You can run, you can fight, you can hate me if you need to, but there isn’t a life worth living for us without you in it.”

He takes his seat back in the interrogation chair, putting his handcuffs back on with ease, all while keeping his eye contact with you. 

“You want me here, you want to punish me,” he continues, “fine, this where I’ll stay until you’re appeased, until you forgive me.”

“I won’t,” you deny, shaking your head. 

“You will.”

[wildestdreamsblog]

Baby Emergency: Attorney Kim Namjoon and his little love

Pairing: Attorney Kim Namjoon x Secretary! Reader

Summary: When he said he’d be there for you and your son, he meant it.

A/N: Giiiiirl, the MV!! Daddy Namjoon?????

Masterlist, Kofi Preview:

“N-Namjoo-“ you started, your voice trembling with mixture of surprise and gratitude.

You hadn’t even finished calling his name when he closed the distance between you in swift strides. Before you knew it, his arms surrounded you, pulling you to his chest as he breath a sigh of relief while you finally sobbed, your shoulders were trembling and his heavy hand rubbing your back so gently brought you comfort and relief. You didn’t know how much you needed him until he showed up. He was your rock, you realized. He was your constant, perhaps, the only constant one in your life. Similarly, the moment he had you in his arms was the moment his tense muscles relaxed. You were here. You and your son were here, and to Namjoon, that was all that mattered. He would do anything just for it to stay this way.

You didn’t know how much he needed this.

“I’m here. It’s going to be okay,” he whispered in your ear, meaning every word he uttered. Nothing and no one could hurt his family as long as he was alive, he swore to himself.

“Wait,” you suddenly said, attempting to move even an inch away from him to no avail. “Don’t you have a conference in New York today? Why are you still here?”

Fuck that, Namjoon thought. He wouldn’t be anywhere but here when you needed him the most.

He was quiet, soaking in the moment and weighing his words. But as careful as he was, he wanted nothing but for you to know his truth.

“I told you before that you won’t have to go through this alone,” he answered sincerely, finally letting you leave his arms to let you see the simmering sincerity in his dark eyes. “You have me. For always.”

Down bad for this man

[pennyellee]

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

title: ANUBIS pairings: yandere mafia namjoon x barmaid f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s word count: 19,7K release date: december - january

beta read by one and only @chaoticpuff17

prompt 1: “You are something I can sin for” prompt 2: An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that’s what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn’t always like that. There was a time where you’ve resented Namjoon with every fibre of your being and every word that came out of his plump lips after what he had done to prove his power. Unfortunately, you will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, manipulation, reader meets namjoon young but nothing happens until she's 21, forced engagement, kidnapping, graphic violence, death, murder, blood, explicit language, misogyny, mentions of feminism, alcohol usage, mentions of religion and God, church smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, oppa-kink and so on (i'll add some if i'll forget)

author's note: so here we are! this is the story i've been thrilled to push out as it is happening in the universe and almost simultaneously with CHAMPAGNE CONFETTI. Y/N alias Peaches here, is my baby, and I cannot wait to write more for her and Namjoon after champagne confetti side B goes out. I have drafts for another fics that are happening in the same universe as champagne confetti and now anubis but step by step my faries ♥ I hope you will enjoy reading this piece I was keeping for myself for a looong time. The best thing about writing is that I get to build this world of imagination and live in it for months before it gets to you. Sooo I'm very nervous and excited to push Anubis out as a second fic within champagne confetti universe - which i still didn't name coz all the fics just have different titles so let's just call it like that for now. Without further ado, enjoy fairies! ♥ let's go back to 1996. omfg, let's call it thatttt, back to 1996!

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone. main masterlist 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

1996

"Did you sleep well?" Namjoon asked, his voice softer now, as if he was trying to breach the walls that had begun to rise between you.

You nursed your coffee in the black ceramic mug while you shrugged, keeping the answer with spice in it for yourself just yet. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, you could see the cracks in his façade when you didn't answer.

"I see... silent treatment," he gulped down, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. Pouring himself a cup of coffee too, he leaned on the counter right in front of you. You took his appearance in. He got a buzz cut, creamy satin shirt tucked in leather pants. A few of the buttons were undone, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest.

"Is that really how you want to start the day?" he provoked. You set the mug down, the clink of ceramic against marble echoing in the tension-filled kitchen.

"Did you ask yourself the same question when you threatened me?" you shot back, your voice rising slightly as the memories flooded back. The anger surged within you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since the moment you woke up in his penthouse.

Namjoon's expression shifted, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a flicker of defensiveness.

"Well, you for some reason seemed too adamant that you needed to patrol the streets of Bronx by running away from me. I know you too damn well, Peaches; I know where you were headed."

The words stung, each syllable laced with accusation and an unsettling truth. Your heart raced, the anger bubbling just below the surface.

"You know fucking shit, Namjoon—"

"Oppa," he jumped in, his voice firm, yet tinged with a note of caution.

You inhaled sharply, the familiar term slicing through the tension like a knife. It reminded you of the intimate moments you once shared. "You've lost that honorific the moment you decided to threaten me and kill that man right in front of my eyes!"

Namjoon's jaw clenched, and you could see the conflict brewing beneath his composed exterior.

"You don't understand the kind of world I'm in. We protect ours."

"Protect?" you spat, feeling the heat of betrayal wash over you.

"I'm a person who deserves to make her own choices—" He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing.

"What choices are you making? Running off into the night like it's some kind of adventure? You think that's brave? I refuse to let you get hurt because you're unhappy with my decisions."

"Oh yeah, like something would happen to me—"

"You are my woman, and people know that you are, Peaches!" he declared, his voice rising with intensity, as if the weight of his words was meant to command respect from the universe itself.

Your heart raced at his proclamation, a mix of anger and something softer twisting in your gut.

"The fuck you're talking about, Namjoon?" You snapped, your voice echoing off the sleek kitchen walls. Anger surged within you, fueled by the sheer audacity of his claim.

"Not fucking once did you say that we ought to be official one day—" you shot back, your voice dripping with disbelief.

"You act like I'm some sort of possession, something you can just claim without any conversation or commitment!" Namjoon's expression hardened, a flicker of frustration flashing in his eyes.

"You need to stop pretending like we don't have a future because you're scared of the past," he said, smashing the mug down on the counter. Namjoon's jaw tightened, and the conflict in his eyes was palpable.

"Since we met, not fucking once have you made your intentions strictly clear, Namjoon! The fuck am I doing here then?!" The words burst from your lips, raw and unfiltered, echoing in the tense space between you.

He ran a hand over his face, visibly struggling to keep his composure.

"I thought you knew. I thought you felt it too," he replied, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I thought it was understood that it was a matter of time."

"Understood?" you scoffed, incredulity seeping into your tone. "You think that just because you've made me a part of your life, I should automatically know my place? That's not how it works!"

"I was waiting till you'll—"

"Age of consent is eighteen in this state, Namjoon, keep that bullshit to yourself." Namjoon's expression darkened at your words, and you could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"So you would rather be wifed and knocked up as soon as we met, am I right?"

.

.

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.

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: if you want to be notified once the full story will be up for reading, you can write in the comments and i'll create a taglist!

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

lots of love, p.

[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ 24: I have a proposition for you

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon, Jungkook x Female Reader, Taehyung x Jungkook

🗡️ word count: 18.7k

🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+ 

🗡️warnings: casually discussing & thinking about previous violent events (involving guns, knives, cars, etc.); use of MDMA & cocaine, as well as a lot of whiskey; explicit smut (sex swing; sex under the influence of drugs & alcohol; voyeurism/exhibitionism; threesome; multiple orgasms & overstimulation; squirting orgasm; going non-verbal; a hint of subspace; crashing from the need of more after care but also from drugs) mc is still spiraling a lot.

🗡️note: hello, hello!!! ngl, it annoys me that Jimin's and Hoseok's hair are the wrong color in the mood board but it's impossible finding a good square pic of those three. also!!!! this is a reminder that mc is bisexual lol. also!!! drug come-ups and come-downs happen unusually fast because this is fiction. and because this was originally at least two chapters that have been condensed into one.

🗡️ also note: i love you. thank you for waiting. 💜

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🗡️ posted Jan. 2025 | read on ao3

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With a jolt, you awaken, gasping and struggling to get your bearings. You blink, squinting against the sun that shines through the small rounded windows, slowly returning to consciousness. The plane bounces slightly as it taxis, and you lean over—or, rather, into—Hwasa as you peer out the window. The unfamiliar scenery reminds you that you are not home in Seoul but in Busan. 

Bright sunlight causes your entire head to ache. You squeeze your eyes closed and bury your face into Hwasa's neck, which is soft and warm and smells like a fresh bouquet. She audibly pouts and raises a hand to shield your eyes, as well as pet your forehead. 

"Rough night," she says sweetly, and you nod. "Don't worry, dove, we'll be home very soon."

The events of last night return in flashes, causing your stomach to roil unpleasantly. Despite Ryujin's insistence that Christian poses no threat, you are not so sure. The way he gripped your hand and stared at you felt pretty fucking threatening. He is not the man you once knew. 

But you find it hard to believe she would put you in danger. After everything her family has done to harm Yoongi and his men, you imagine if anything happened to you, he would not hesitate to burn her home to the ground with everyone inside it. Just his display at the hideout alone speaks to his willingness to kill for you.

A cursory glance at your phone this morning showed Seokjin has managed to import everyone's numbers into your contact list. This assuages your concerns somewhat; at the very least, you are able to reach them should something go sideways. Never mind the fact that Seoul is four, possibly five hours away by car—a detail you choose to ignore for the time being. 

You could text Yoongi right now and inform him of Christian's appearance. But what would that solve, realistically? He would likely appear with guns—or chopsticks—blazing and demand you return to a home that you so desperately felt the need to leave. 

It is possible that Christian behaved the way he did last night because you nearly touched him. It could have been a sore spot for him to come so close to you again. Intoxicated, he may have behaved more strangely than usual. Perhaps bringing up his missing eye was triggering.

The plane finally slows to a stop, and one by one, the women begin to stretch and stand. A long red sedan waits outside, and you watch as staff members begin to move luggage from the plane to the back of the vehicle.  

Your stomach lurches as you make your way to the steps and begin the descent to the tarmac. As tired as you are of questioning whether you are making a mistake, you are desperate to settle in and feel a semblance of peace. You would be happy to never leave your bedroom once you are introduced to one. It is not as if you are expected to work. At least, you don't think so. 

Solar and Moonbyul climb into the far back of the vehicle, then Hwasa gets into the middle row and pats the seat for you to join her. You are about to scoot toward the center to make space for another, but Wheein rounds the vehicle and gets into the passenger seat as Ryujin slides into the driver's seat, making everyone accounted for. 

Once you are buckled in and all the doors are closed, Ryujin is off, driving nauseatingly fast. She drives like she owns these streets—and maybe she does, but it makes you want to barf.  

You close your eyes and lean into Hwasa, glad when she slots her arm around you easily. Now that the two of you will be under the same roof in a manner that feels more official, you wonder whether you should confront the way you feel around her. The butterflies, the dizziness, the urge to reach out and touch, the desire to be held just as you are now, but always. You are certain that it is nothing more than a crush and not worth dwelling on. But you are also aware of the fact that in no time at all your loneliness will shift to something carnal, and that having her in your bubble like this could become dangerously tempting. 

"We're here," Hwasa says softly against the top of your head.

With a light, pleased sigh, you slowly open your eyes and begin to sit up. A large metal gate scrapes open, and you are greeted by the sight of a massive hanok made of beautiful, brightly stained pine wood and earthen bricks. Ridge-end tiles, pine purlins, and decoratively carved rafters and beams showcase traditional Korean craftsmanship. 

The massive double doors are decorated with square metal frames, reminiscent of traditional wood and paper screen doors, and you watch in awe as the door on the right opens and several women come excitedly hopping out. You marvel at how tall and wide the structure is compared to them. 

You recognize one of the women as the person who attempted to chuck a ball at your head the first time you went into Yoongi's pool. Surely, she must know that you have come to stay in the house. Is she likely to cause you more trouble, or have they been forced to come to some understanding that you will be living with them now?

Men in uniform follow behind the women and remain stationed at the door. They are dressed in black tactical gear, with handguns at their hips, and you think you even spot earpieces in their ears. Although you know their presence is meant to make you feel safe, something about their hard, stoic nature is off-putting, and you tear your gaze away.

"They're nice," Hwasa chides, gently pushing an elbow into your side. You must really look afraid for her to have noticed.

With a nod, you open the car door and slowly step out. It is warm, but there is a nice breeze that cools you. The sun, however, is bright and oppressive, and the more you stand directly in its shine, the harder your head pounds. 

Ryujin and the girls gather all the luggage, including yours, and take it inside. You follow behind slowly, inviting Hwasa to link her arm into yours and lead you. The entrance is a small foyer with shoes on either side and two small tables on which keys and other items are stored, including sunglasses and chapsticks. You step out of your shoes and pass through a set of paper and wood screen doors, where the space opens up into what appears to be a massive sitting room that seems at least two stories tall. 

Cushions, couches, and tables are strewn about with a pathway leading through the center and around the sides. The space is dimly lit with lamps interspersed and fairy lights that hang from the tall ceiling and along the walls, creating a dreamy atmosphere. 

Through the space, there are hallways that lead to the left and the right, and a large, open kitchen and dining hall. The walls are white, with pine beams that complement the cabinets and floors, giving a traditional feel, but the counters and appliances are light marble and polished steel. Sinks are deep, wide basins with tall faucets that hang overhead, and the dishware appears to all be handmade ceramic, earthenware, and stainless steel.

On the far wall between the kitchen and a long dining table raised on a wooden platform is a door that Hwasa slides open, revealing a courtyard. She steps out onto a wooden ledge barefoot, and you follow behind. Stone paths snake and converge through a massive grassy space, surrounded by the rectangular shape of the hanok, with doors along the walls leading to what you imagine to be the various bedrooms. 

"Ryujin sleeps in the far room," Hwasa says, pointing straight ahead to the opposite end of the large structure. 

"I'm this way," she says, pointing to what you believe is the third door on the right, "And you will be this way," she says, tugging you to the left. 

Along the length of the building is a wooden ledge, with a wide stone step in front of each room that leads down to the path, and on both sides of the ledge are potted plants. Some are flowers, some are small trees and shrubs; your room appears to be surrounded by bonsai trees. 

Although the doors are traditional screen doors made of paper and wood, they have been enshrined in thick glass with ornate brass handles. As you reach the door to your new room and step up onto the wooden ledge, it slides open, revealing Ryujin's smiling face. 

"Come on in," she says, pointing to a small white floor mat beside two sets of house shoes.  

You step onto the mat, rubbing off any dirt that you may have tracked, then slide into the closest pair of soft white slippers before entering. There is a small entrance room similar to the foyer of the house, with a wooden railing to hang coats on the left and a wooden table and bowl on the right. In the bowl rests two gold keys on a small gold ring, and you reach for them, feeling their weight in your hand, and slide them into a pocket of the oversized hoodie that once belonged to Jeongguk. 

The bedroom is a decent size, with a tall ceiling to accommodate a loft, the ladder for which is to the left as soon as you enter. A bed large enough to accommodate three is on a raised wooden platform on the right, with white pillows, blankets, and sheets. There is a dresser and a large mirror, all made of the same pine and brass as everything in the house, and similar to the doors, all the hinges on the furniture are in the shape of butterflies. 

"This is lovely," you say, taking in the scent of the room. It seems to have been recently dusted, but there is a stuffiness to it that suggests it has been vacant for quite some time. You leave the door open to the courtyard as you sit down on the firm bed and take everything in. 

"There is a small futon up in the loft, as well as a low table and cushions, in case you would prefer to be up there," Ryujin says. "And we can swap out the white bedding for something that feels a little more you."

You nod and crack a smile, saying, "Thank you."

"I might have something that's all black somewhere," she chides with a wink, making your cheeks warm. "In fact, one of my black comforters may have golden dragons embroidered on it. You can have a piece of Yoongi and Namjoon."

You hug your arms tightly around your middle, pulling your gaze away from her as she speaks. Although you are grateful for Ryujin's hospitality, it does feel strange knowing she has had such an intimate relationship with the men you love. Perhaps it is the casual nature with which she brings it up that you find particularly jarring. 

"I will fetch you those items shortly," Ryujin says. "Feel free to look around. There are bathrooms interspersed throughout, but Hyejin and Hyungseo have master suites with their own. Luckily you do not have to work to butter anyone up to bathe in peace." She winks at you, then grins at Hwasa. "I also have a massive suite with a shower room and tub, which you are welcome to use any time."

Ryujin leaves the bedroom through the door that opens up to the hallway, but Hwasa takes your arm and tugs you back toward the courtyard. You step out of your slippers and slide the door closed, then follow her along the path leading to her door. 

"It's faster than walking inside," she says, and you nod, finding it easy to imagine so. "There is also a shortcut from the front of the house, so you don't have to walk through the living room. And if you take a path past mother's door, there is a large outdoor pool and garden. Just don't be alarmed by the guards. They tend to hide in plain sight."

Hwasa pulls out a small ring of keys and slots a golden one into the door, twisting and then retracting it before sliding the door open. You step inside and are immediately hit with a sensation opposite to your bedroom. 

Hwasa's room is much larger than yours, with an open door on the left that leads to a bathroom. She has no loft, only a tall ceiling from which she has hung fairy lights and fluffy clouds. Her bedding is pale pink, clothing and jewelry are strewn about, and the air smells distinctly of her. She sits on the bed and reaches for the drawer of the pine bedside table. From inside, she takes out a small golden key and holds it out for you. 

"What is this?" you ask, dumbfounded. 

"A key to my room, silly," she says through a chuckle. 

You take the key between your fingers and examine it, but you are filled with a torrent of conflicting emotions. 

"I couldn't possibly—" you begin, holding the key out to her, but she pushes your hand away, saying, "Nonsense. Just take it. You might get lonely in this large house, and I don't need you thinking you have to ask for permission each time you want to come see me."

You slide the key into your pocket, hearing it rattle beside your phone and the keys to your room. You do not tell her that you intend to knock or text before coming over and that it is something she is going to need to accept. 

"Are you hungry?" she asks, and you nod. You are more than hungry; you feel absolutely hollowed out.

Hwasa leads you into the house this time, and you take light steps on bare feet, worried about making too much noise; hesitant to draw too much attention. At the end of the hall, you turn right and walk past the raised dining table, at which two women sit on the floor and pick at plates of fruit and bread. 

“We have a chef who comes in the morning to stock the fridge,” Hwasa says as she approaches a large, wide refrigerator. 

The stainless steel doors open from the center and inside are rows and stacks of glass containers filled with food. Hwasa rummages, pulling out a tub of cubed melons. You find a tub of glass noodles with carrot and other finely cut vegetables, and Hwasa retrieves a cold bottle of grapefruit-flavored soju. You expect to be led to the long table, but Hwasa opens the containers on the counter, retrieves bowls and utensils, and serves herself food only to immediately eat it where she stands. You do not object and do the same.

Slowly, the area fills with women, but you keep your head down, eating the food. The noodles are filling and the fruit is refreshing; the soju brings a little warmth to your chest and very slightly assuages your anxiety. 

"Don't worry, you will get to know everyone soon enough," Hwasa mutters. 

You hum, but you are not too certain it is possible. There must be at least twenty bedrooms connected to the long halls of the hanok, and you imagine there are rooms that could contain more than one person. How many women might clamber into Ryujin's bed at night, you wonder. Do they all have rooms of their own?

After eating, Hwasa returns the containers to the fridge while you take the used dishes and utensils to the sink and wash them. A large bamboo rack is on the left side of the sink, already stacked with various items, and you add yours to the pile, too unsure where things go to offer putting dried items away. 

"Come," Hwasa says, tugging at your hands as soon as you are able to dry them on a cloth that hangs above the sink in a large window overlooking the courtyard. "Let's take a bottle to the gardens and lie on the grass."

With a new bottle of soju, you are led down a long hallway, past all the closed doors, to a gate nestled to the right of Ryujin's wide-open bedroom door. You glance into the space to find her room in bright pastels, namely yellow and orange, and as you avert your eyes, you think about the bedroom in Yoongi's mansion that was inherited from her. After seven years, things have been left the same, and you are unsure how to feel about that.

* * *

You are groggy and chilly as you roll over, waking up to the feeling of grass tickling your left cheek. At which point you had fallen asleep, you are unsure, but you are glad when Hwasa stirs and groans beside you. 

Ryujin's garden is so similar to Yoongi's that when you first laid eyes on it, tears prickled, and you felt the overwhelming urge to spiral into an anxiety attack. Statues, shrub walls, fountains…there is even a shrub maze that Hwasa invited you to walk through, but the thought of it conjured memories of Namjoon, and you suggested instead to lie in the grass as was originally planned. The weight of everything must have pressed you down into a brief but deep sleep. The soju bottle was barely touched. 

It is hard not to wonder whether you will ever see Yoongi's garden again. From where you sit, on a slight hill overlooking the labyrinth, you can see the large statue of a minotaur near the center, and you wonder whether Ryujin did it as an homage or a fuck you to Yoongi's garden. You like the addition of the minotaur but dislike how it mirrors the theme of Greek iconography. How much of her former life with Yoongi has Ryujin kept here? How often does she think of him? Are you as safe with her as everyone claims?

The rest of the day feels like a blur. You follow Hwasa around until it is time to retire for the night, at which time the roles reverse and she follows you. She offers to help you unpack your suitcase, but you opt to leave it for tomorrow. There is a finality in unpacking that you are not yet ready to face, despite the suitcase remaining a symbol of your ability to leave at any time. You suppose it is complicated. You do, however, find a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt in the depths of your luggage that are not as soft and comfortable as the ones you had been pilfering from Yoongi over the last several months but cozy enough to make you feel slightly more relaxed. Then you hug Hwasa good night, allowing her to place a kiss on your cheek but feeling incapable of returning the gesture. 

Although the walls do a good job of keeping noise out, there is a faint, distant liveliness that can be heard from somewhere inside the hanok. You assume from the living room or possibly the dining room. 

You climb into the cold bed and pull the white comforter up to your ears. You take a deep breath and close your eyes. You consider calling Namjoon but decide against it, worrying you may ask him to come bring you home. After lying still for an indeterminate amount of time, you sigh, get out of bed, and retrieve the golden keys from the wooden bowl beside your door. 

The night is cold as you tiptoe in bare feet out into the courtyard, which is illuminated by string lights, light pollution, and a very bright moon. Although you clench the key to Hwasa's door, as you approach, you gently knock. It only takes a handful of seconds before a light turns on, and another handful until her door slides open. You enter without a word, wipe your feet off, and slide the door closed. Your keys jingle and slide into the basin of the wooden bowl.

Hwasa is barefaced and sleepy, and she smiles lopsided when she climbs into her bed and scoots to one side, facing you as you slip under the warm covers and nestle one arm under the pillow. Once you are settled, she rotates enough to shut off a small bedside lamp, shrouding you in darkness and the scent of flowers. Moments later, you are asleep.

* * *

The hanok is chaotic all day, from the moment you wake to the sounds of voices shouting excitedly, to the moment you stand before Hwasa's mirror wearing borrowed items, giving yourself one last look before setting off into the night. You hardly remember eating food, drinking coffee, and meeting women; your nerves have been alight at the knowledge that you will see your men one more time. One last time, you suppose, for the foreseeable future. It all makes your head spin, and you struggle to focus.

You wear the same asymmetrical little black dress that you wore the first day you met Yoongi—not because you find it amusing, although you do—but because you left behind all the dresses he bought you, and this is the only one you have that seems to fit the vibe of Serendipity. 

Hwasa has draped your neck and wrists in gold chains, and you wear borrowed gold daisies in your ears that don't quite match but that you are fond of. She and Ryujin give you the smoky eye look that Yoongi likes so much and pin your hair back away from your face. Borrowed fishnet tights make you feel a bit self-conscious, but you enjoy the way they look with your black loosely-laced boots. You wonder whether the men will recognize the bits of your outfit that you once wore or if they even noticed your dress at all on that first day.

Everyone else wears black and gold, Hwasa in a tight bodice top and pencil skirt with stiletto heels, and Ryujin in a long-sleeve cropped turtleneck and tight leggings with tall boots. Both women are adored in chains, earrings, bracelets, and rings, shimmering with each movement, with their dark hair pinned from their faces and hanging down their backs, Hwasa's falling in pretty waves and Ryujin's perfectly straight. 

Despite feeling excitement over seeing the men, you are also concerned about letting loose and feeling too comfortable, teetering continuously between wanting to stay and wanting to return to the mansion. As you take your medications followed by deep, slow breaths, you tell yourself to stop spiraling along this familiar train of thought. You know that it does you no good, and yet it loops endlessly. Finally, when everyone is ready and you feel like you have your shit as together as possible, you allow yourself to be ushered out to the long red SUV. 

The drive to Serendipity is so short you could have walked there. Perhaps in another life, you would not need armored vehicles driving you from one destination to another. What had it been like all those months ago to finally have a modicum of freedom? How difficult would it be to run away for real and return to a lifestyle bogged down by working night shift jobs that allow you to be your own person again?

Several security guards are stationed at the door, glowing in the bright red of the familiar sign that reads Serendipity overhead. Ryujin has informed you that only her people, Yoongi's people, and neutral parties to the families will be in attendance, with the exception of bartenders and dancers. So it surprises you when you enter the building and it is already packed. You recognize men from Yoongi's staff but do not see the family men or any of the security staff you have gotten to know. Hwasa veers away immediately with the promise of being right back, so you stick close to Ryujin. 

Last time you were here, Yoongi took you directly through dark hallways into a VIP space. This time, you enter the main floor. There is an open area with tables scattered throughout and a large bar on the left. A dancefloor is ahead in a semi-partitioned area, and the VIP section is raised to the far right, overlooking the dancefloor. Your gaze hangs on the VIP section, wondering whether your men are nestled away in those booths, bending low over piles of cocaine as Yoongi had you do—a memory that feels like an indoctrination of sorts into this lifestyle. But as far as you can tell, nobody is over there. 

Everything is made of unassuming dark wood and shiny silver metal. It is far less flashy than you would expect from someone like Yoongi, considering it was his bar first. Nothing stands out but the bars, dance cages, and open space, as if the only thing that is meant to be experienced here are the people who come to dance. Or, perhaps, the main draw is downstairs…the thought of which makes you shiver.

Throughout the space, there are raised platforms with bars similar to the dance cages at Paradise. Inside, dancers clad in almost nothing sway and twist to the sultry music that plays overhead. It seems that most attendees are in this first room and not yet on the dancefloor. They congregate around the tall tables and in groups. You scan the room over and over for someone who is more than just vaguely familiar from the Hanok or security teams and feel disappointed when you do not find anyone to run off to as Ryujin places a hand on the back of your right arm and ushers you toward the bar.

People step aside as you approach, giving you and Ryujin a wide berth while never breaking from their conversations. Some turn to bow their heads to Ryujin, but most carry on as if she is not there. Once you are at the bar, Ryujin holds up three fingers, and the tender nods and turns to the shelves, producing a bottle that appears to hold whiskey. 

"Your men are running late," she sighs as she glances at her phone before tucking it back into a pocket of her leggings. You feel relieved and disappointed at the same time. 

"MDMA for the ladies?" the bartender offers as they set down three glasses of whiskey. You reach for the center glass and glance around for the owner of the third, happy when you see Hwasa's smiling face approaching. 

"None for me," Ryujin says, but Hwasa chimes, "Yes, please!"  

The bartender produces a small brass decorative box. When they open it, a twinkling song plays, but its tune is lost to the music playing overhead. In the lid of the box is a mirror that reflects your chest, and spinning slowly before the mirror is the figure of a tiny ballerina in a little pink tutu. The box is filled with a white substance that appears to be a mix of powder and crystals, and you turn to watch as Hwasa licks her fingertip and sticks it directly into the substance, then pulls it out, inspecting the powder and small lumps of crystal that coat her fingertip. 

"It's fun," she says to you, eyebrows raised.

You nibble on the inside of your mouth, uncertain. The last time you did a similar drug with Jeongguk, you completely lost control of your emotions. But you were also in a more emotionally tumultuous state at the time, and you wonder whether doing it tonight might be different. 

"I, uh…I actually took some with Jeongguk not too long ago and I think it had an adverse effect."

Hwasa frowns and asks, "Was it exactly like this?"

You examine the dust and shake your head. "It was more of an…"

"Amethyst color?" Ryujin fills in over your shoulder. You nod, turning your head slightly toward her. 

"This stuff is a lot more pure," Hwasa says. "Amethyst was good, but it wasn't quite perfect. Of course, no pressure. But if you want to try a tiny bit, you can always return for more."

"Jeongguk mentioned it may have counteracted my antidepressants. But I was also in a really bad headspace." You feel like you are overexplaining, but truthfully, you are curious to try it again, especially if the women say this version is better than the one he had. 

"How much did you take?" Ryujin asks. 

"A small capsule," you say, turning to face her more fully. 

Ryujin gives a knowing nod. "There are several factors that go into play when taking a drug like this. A capsule could have been too high of a dose, and rather than make you feel euphoric, it overwhelmed you."

You certainly felt overwhelmed that night. And you wonder whether it was the combination of what was in your system that made everything go sour or the aftermath of what Jeongguk had said to you. Do you think you could fall for someone like me? A shutter works its way along your spine.

"I would like to try a little," you say, eager to feel the euphoria and body high that you had the last time before everything went south. 

You turn to Hwasa, whose finger is still coated in the drug. With a grin, she says, "This amount should only last about an hour or two. And the come-up and come-down are a lot smoother than they were with amethyst."

With a nod, you begin to lift a finger to your lips in order to wet the tip, but Hwasa beats you to it, holding her own close to your mouth. She raises an eyebrow, and you part your lips, feeling as self-conscious as you are excited to be given an invitation to suck on her finger. The substance is alarmingly sour, and your face puckers as you suck harder, doing your best to get all of it. Hwasa giggles, and when she removes her finger, you quickly pick up your whiskey and knock a mouthful back. As soon as you do so, you begin to worry that you are once again not in a good place to be doing drugs like this. But then you think of Yoongi and Namjoon, and warmth fills your chest, making it hard to imagine your night could turn sour. 

Perhaps it is the nerves of waiting for the drug to kick in, but you drink your whiskey a little too fast. It makes you feel light on your feet, especially considering you only snacked all day, not having much of an appetite in anticipation for tonight. You ask for water and are relieved when a large, cold glass is set before you. 

Hwasa and Ryujin both lean against the bar facing the main room, and you do the same, clenching the chilled glass as you rest your elbows against the bar top. You look between caged dancers, from glistening pecs and hard abs to soft curves. But your eyes trail to the front door the most, waiting for the men to arrive. It is not like Yoongi to be late, and the longer you wait, the more antsy you become. 

And then, slowly, you begin to feel the tingle. It starts in your fingertips but resonates in your chest, too. You feel a warmth work its way over you, but also a chill—it's hard to fully grasp. More than anything, you have an overwhelming feeling that something is missing. Or, rather, someones. Plural.  

Hwasa and a few of the women from Ryujin's home dance and giggle beside you. You continue to hold tight to the glass in your hands, eyes trailing back to the front entrance over and over. You would like to dance and sway and get to know the other women a little better, especially since they have stolen your pretty friend's attention. But you feel glued in place with a budding, blooming sense of enrapture and intrigue.

You sigh, drain the contents of your glass of water, and spin on your toes to lean against the bar and perceive a different, calmer perspective. As you set the glass down on the wooden bar top and stand taller in order to get the tender's attention, deciding that perhaps you would like more whiskey to take the edge off, two large, warm hands cover your eyes. 

"Guess who," a rich, playful male voice says, and you grin, lifting your hands to cover his long fingers. 

"Taehyung," you say, heart pounding, chest filling with warmth. 

His hands fall away, and you spin around quickly, unable to hold back glee at the sight of Taehyung standing before you. He is dapper in a deep purple suit with a gold brooch of a tiger on his lapel and a caduceus on his breast pocket, connected by two gold chains.

"Finally," you say, slamming forward into a hug that he hesitates to return. Your arms slide around his ribs, and you flay your fingers open against his back, breathing in his earthy, spicy cologne that carries floral notes reminding you of Jeongguk. You squeeze, and he chuckles as his arms engulf you, gently squeezing back. 

"I have a surprise for you," he says as you break the hug, keeping your arms loosely around his waist. 

It feels good to hug—really fucking good—and you do not want to stop. You tilt your head to the side, glancing up into his devious eyes. "A surprise?"

Taehyung's eyes study yours, then he leans close and says, "Your pupils are quite dilated. What are you on?"

"Molly," you admit somewhat sheepishly. "Not too much, though. Didn't want a repeat of last time."

Although you have not spoken with Taehyung about last time, you assume that Jeongguk has. He gives a knowing nod. 

"There are many factors that can cause someone to have a bad high," Taehyung explains, "one of which is allowing oneself to spiral into a negative thought loop. Sometimes even the best uppers struggle to fight against our demons. If you feel yourself going down that path, you can either do your best to reroute your thinking or remove yourself from the situation entirely."

You nod along, in appreciation of Taehyung's advice. However, it is all a bit too much—too stuffy, too serious—and you lose your patience for it. 

Grinning, you ask, "What's my surprise?"

Taehyung chuckles. "I left it somewhere secluded and secretive." He holds out a hand and adds, "Follow me?"

You take Taehyung's hand and allow him to tug you along. Intrigue and excitement simmer through you, pulsing to the beat of the music but also to that of your heart. The path he drags you through is a familiar one: dark curtains, a narrow hallway that leads to a red-lit stairwell snaking deep into the building. The last time you were here, things were so different. You were so new to this world. So inexperienced. 

What are you afraid of? Yoongi had asked, pressuring you into trying cocaine. Don't you trust me?

You shake the thought away, doing your best to remember what Taehyung said about keeping a positive mindset. After all, the visit here wasn't all that bad. The tone of his voice when he proudly proclaimed, that's my girl, made all of the pressure feel better. Things had gotten pretty exciting up until Namjoon called. Warmth snakes up your neck to your cheeks at the memory. Namjoon called, and Yoongi let him sit on the line while he finished eating you out. 

At the bottom of the stairs, all the black doors are closed but one, which is cracked ever so slightly open. A soft purplish glow shines in a sliver from the bottom and right side of the door at the far end of the hall. Your palm prickles with sweat in Taehyung's hand, and you do your best not to wobble, feeling the full force of excitement laced with joy. And then Taehyung halts in place halfway to the door. 

"Ah," he says, releasing your hand, "I nearly forgot."

In a swift movement, Taehyung removes a black piece of cloth from the breast of his jacket and places it over your eyes. Before you can so much as gasp, the cloth is tied tightly and he is taking your hand in his once more. 

"You may commence walking," he says before tugging you along, and you stumble somewhat, legs struggling to keep up. 

You think you hear voices, but then Taehyung snaps his fingers several times, louder than you have ever heard someone snap their fingers before. And then all you hear is the sound of downtempo music, footsteps, and your whooshing pulse. 

A door closes, and you are led further. Then you are stopped.  

"We thought it might be fun to play a game," Taehyung says as he lets go of your hand. You hear and feel him stepping away, possibly behind you, before two warm hands are placed on your shoulders. His voice is close to your right ear as he says, "A guessing game."

You smile widely. "And what do I win?"

There is a pause. Beside your left ear, he says, "Pleasure."

Goosebumps cover you and you let out a long, deep sigh, biting on your lower lip. Although you cannot see who is in the room, you can sense them. Colognes mingle in the air, all familiar, all filling you with desire. 

In your right ear, he asks, "Are you ready, mon chéri?" 

You swoon from the term of endearment, from the accent in which he utters it, from his closeness. Although your relationship with Taehyung differs from the others, you feel a deep sense of longing toward him—a kinship that extends just beyond the boundaries of something platonic.

"Yes," you say, breathy. Eager. 

Taehyung's hands tighten on your shoulders, and then he steps away, leaving you to stand alone, suddenly a bit cold. "Keep your hands at your sides at all times," he tells you.

You nod, smiling sweetly. 

"Yes, sir," he says in a commanding tone, and you let out a surprised gasp. 

You respond, "Yes, sir," but your voice is light and breathy. You expect him to reprimand you and tell you to speak louder, but he does not. 

"You are going to feel a touch," Taehyung says from just to your right, slightly behind you. "Perhaps you will detect a scent. You only have one guess per man. Answer incorrectly and they leave the room. Answer correctly, and they stay."

Leave the room? Anxiety swells knowing the stakes are so high. You swallow the lump that slowly forms in your throat and take a deep breath. You know your men. There is no way you are going to lose this game. 

"How many are there?" you ask, worried Seokjin, Hoseok, or Jimin could be lingering somewhere, ready to throw you off. 

Taehyung sighs, and you smile slightly.

"There are three, as well as myself. But I am not playing."

You nod and lick your lips. You can handle this, you tell yourself. This should be easy. 

"Let us begin," Taehyung says.

You stand up straight, rolling your shoulders back as if good posture will give you any sort of advantage. Something in the room seems to shift, and you hear the rustle of fabric but not shoes. Unfair, you think, determined that you would be able to identify Yoongi's walk, if not the others. 

Before you feel a touch, you detect a scent: spring morning, fresh and bright. You smile, lick your lips, and open your mouth, ready to greet Namjoon. But then you feel the backs of fingertips grazing your cheeks, and there is a musk that follows, which does not match the rest of the cologne. 

The touch is delicate, trailing from your temple to below your ear, down the length of your neck. Your head turns, chasing the touch and the scent before fingers fall away. Silence hangs as you stand and wait, unsure whether you should guess. And then those hands grip you by the hips from behind, large and warm and so familiar. 

As you inhale, thinking about all the times those hands have held you like this—all those times bent over and begging—you exhale and mutter through an aroused sigh, "Yoongi."

The fingers dig, grip tightening, and you picture his sharp, devious smile. And then the touch disappears, and you hear the rustling of more fabric. 

Two hands grip onto your hips from in front of you, and you can feel the heat radiate from him, sensing he has stepped very close. He leans and rests his forehead against yours, and the bouquet of scents is unmistakable. 

"Jeongguk," you declare, and the touch recedes completely. 

In the seconds that pass before you detect the same blend of colognes as before, you begin to worry you may have guessed incorrectly the first time. It seems clear that Yoongi and Namjoon are trying to trick you, and you are certain that Yoongi has touched you the way the first man had. But, as far as you know, Namjoon could have, too. The grip on your hips felt like Yoongi—of that, you are certain. You take a deep breath and do your best to calm your nerves, but the drug has you feeling antsy. 

Fingers cradle your chin, and you part your lips instinctively. Rather than a kiss, you feel the slow press of a thumb before the hand slides down, and the fingers splay across your throat. Typically, it is Yoongi who touches you this way, and you begin to panic, worrying more than ever that you chose the wrong man. 

But then you focus on the feeling of the hand. It is large, warm, soft, and familiar, but it is not Yoongi's hand. It slides away, and then two hands gently grab your ribs as if steadying you or readying you for a hug. You can tell these men are trying to trick you, but it is not going to work because you know these hands. 

"Namjoon," you say, voice broken behind the sudden urge to cry. 

Footsteps approach from behind—Taehyung, undoubtedly—and then the cloth is lifted from your eyes, and you are left blinking to adjust to the red and purple lights cast from various bulbs, focusing on Namjoon's beautiful smile. His muscles strain under a jacket that is too tight for him, and you giggle as you step forward, causing his hands to slide around your back as you lean close for a kiss. But you stop just before meeting his lips as you notice something is different.

"Your hair," you say as you reach a hand up and rub it over a short stubble. He has a buzzcut, even all around with neatly shaven edges. 

Namjoon nods slightly, but seems more interested in that kiss you interrupted than explaining the new look. He presses close, hums with pleasure, and holds you tight, licking firmly into your mouth in a way that nearly makes your knees buckle. You are too high to do anything but allow yourself to be tasted and touched, and as soon as he breaks the kiss, you mutter, "Does this mean I've won?"

Yoongi approaches from the right, stepping behind you and placing his large hands on your hips. You lean into him, smiling at Namjoon as Yoongi says, "You even saw through our parlor trick."

You pout, raising a hand to gently slap it over Namjoon's pec. He holds your hand in place, sandwiching you between their two bodies while two sets of lips claim your shoulders and neck. 

"We had faith in you," Namjoon teases, making you feel all the more petulant. 

You whine, "But what if I guessed wrong?"

Yoongi nips at your neck, forcing you to giggle and close your eyes. His voice is barely above a growl as he says, "Then you would have fucked Jeongguk while Namjoon and I took another room." 

"Not funny," you whimper as hands rove your sides, grazing below your breasts and squeezing at your hips. You feel so good, but you also want to cause as much trouble as possible for these two. "I've missed you."

Fingertips cradle your chin, guiding you to turn your head to the right. 

"What's the matter, doll?" Jeongguk asks, "Didn't you miss me?"

Your eyes blink open to find Jeongguk scowling at you. His satin leopard print shirt is unbuttoned below his pecs, and you allow your eyes to fall, taking in each hint of skin you can see. It is apparent that he is trying to appear angry, but his gaze is soft, almost loving. 

Do you think you could fall for someone like me?

You push the thought away and reach an arm just far enough to hook a finger on Jeongguk's slacks and pull him close. As he stumbles and looms over you, you grin, tilting your chin toward him, wishing you could stretch yourself a little taller. 

Jeongguk chuckles and leans in just close enough to press your lips together. You want more, straining toward him, but then he backs away and begins to fully unbutton his shirt. 

"Our buttercup is high on molly," Taehyung announces, met with a chorus of hums and gasps. You bite your lip and sheepishly nod, eyes on the large swath of Jeongguk's bare stomach and chest. 

"How high are you?" Yoongi groans against your neck.

Your eyes flutter closed from his touch, and you press your ass against him. Although you had somewhat forgotten about the molly, now you feel it absolutely shimmering through you. "Quite high."

Namjoon presses himself close and licks over your lips, then asks, "I bet you're pretty turned on, then, hmm?"

You smile. "How could I not be?"

"I have just the thing," Taehyung says as he walks past you to the center of the room. He disappears behind Namjoon, then reappears with a step stool that he places down and begins to climb. 

Only now do you realize that there is something on the ceiling, which Taehyung unravels with quick movements. You have to heavy-blink several times to realize it is a sex swing. 

"Undress her," Taehyung says.

Namjoon grins wide and devious, then says, "Yes, sir," just loud enough.

Two sets of hands make quick work unzipping your dress and yanking it—pushing it to the floor. You wobble and stumble as you step out of your boots and socks, clinging to Namjoon's shoulders while Yoongi, on his knees, assists you. Standing in only fishnets and panties, you feel simultaneously warm and cold as Yoongi stands, trailing his fingertips up the backs of your legs. He hooks his fingers into the netting of your borrowed stockings right in the crotch and roughly rips a hole in them, making you tremble and gasp. 

"Fuck, I have missed you," Yoongi growls, hands roughly gripping your hips. Namjoon nods, eyes roving your body hungrily. 

"On the swing," Taehyung instructs. "On your back."

Namjoon turns and leads you toward the swing. It looks like nothing more than an amalgamation of straps, and you watch as he clumsily lifts and attempts to sort them. With an exasperated huff, Taehyung steps forward, grabs onto the contraption, and simply presents it in a way that looks like a swing. You are surprised and amused, and you turn, stepping close to it and allowing Taehyung to lift you into it. 

You giggle, and your head spins as your legs are maneuvered through straps and spread. It feels strange to trust these bits of rough fabric to hold you up, and you grip onto two sturdy straps that are connected to the ceiling brace while the swing is adjusted beneath you, and you are gradually convinced that it is safe to lie back. 

"Darling," Yoongi teases through a chuckle as he unbuttons his dress shirt. "You look so worried. Relax."

You watch intently, chest heaving with each breath. Although you are eager for the events that are transpiring, you are also very high, verging on feeling overwhelmed. Not to mention, your heart feels ripped into warring halves—one part wanting to experience Yoongi and Namjoon again, and the other worried that it is a very bad idea. 

Yoongi's black shirt is untucked from his slacks and slid off his broad shoulders by Namjoon, whose eyes are on you. He gently drapes the shirt over the edge of the large bed to your left, then returns, unbuttoning his cufflinks while Yoongi steps forward and gets down on his knees. It is difficult to keep your eyes on him; your eyelids flutter with the urge to close them and become lost to the drugs. But you remain as laser-focused as possible. 

"Fuck," Yoongi says as he roughly spreads your legs, warm, calloused fingers yanking fabric to the side and digging into soft skin. "You have no idea how much I have missed this."

You open your mouth to say me too, but the first syllable is lost to the feeling of Yoongi's tongue against your clit. A loud moan rolls from your lips, chased by an intense wave of pleasure that courses through your limbs, causing your head to fall. Yoongi does not give you a chance to catch your breath, sucking and licking while making the most depraved sounds—groaning like a man who is finally satiated after days of fasting. Pleasure builds quickly, and you can already imagine the deep, pleased laugh he makes before teasing you for cuming too quickly. 

The sound of a zipper causes you to open your eyes, and you find your head, which is hung back in ecstasy, level with Namjoon's crotch. Reluctantly, you reach back, gasping both from pleasure and the feeling of the swing shifting and swaying from the movement. 

Yoongi, either helpful, impatient, or both, grips your thighs tightly, holding you in place. You rub your hands over the sides of Namjoon's legs, licking your dry lips, wishing you had water. Namjoon lets his slacks slide down, and the fabric tumbles to the ground. A particularly slow lap over your cunt causes you to shiver and moan, losing focus on the prize above your semi-upside-down head, and Namjoon chuckles as he palms the tight dark cloth over his growing erection. 

Your eyes flutter closed as you lean back, head fully upside down, sinking into the pleasure that claws at you so fiercely, you are moments away from bursting. Clothing rustles, metal clangs, and you feel hands on your legs and ankles lifting and spreading you while Yoongi continues to suck and lick. It is clear that you are being restrained, with fabric encircling your ankles and keeping them suspended high. When you open your eyes and attempt to take in the scene, you realize you are tilted back too far to see Yoongi's head between your legs. Instead, you see Jeongguk towering over him. 

Fingers breach your entrance, sliding easily despite the tight sting, causing you to whimper. Yoongi's thick knuckles graze deliciously past your walls, and as you relax to his intrusion, his tongue and lips match the steady pace of his hand, bringing you crashing instantly with orgasm. Your head falls back hanging as you squeal and gasp, so overcome with bliss that you feel the urge to crawl out of your skin. You tremble wildly, held tightly in place as your legs yank against their restraints. Yoongi does not slow or stop, and you find yourself gasping for breath and practically screaming from pleasure. 

"That's it, doll," Jeongguk practically growls, voice deep and lust-laced. "Make a fucking mess of him."

Only now do you hear the release squelching wetly from you with the movement of Yoongi's hand. Liquid sprays on your thighs, and you gulp for air, no longer able to moan, simply heaving each breath in and out of your tired lungs. 

Yoongi removes his mouth and slides his fingers free. When he stands, you notice his mouth glistening, and he makes a show of licking you from his fingers with a hum. Namjoon, who is nude, thick cock erect and level with your face, steps around the swing, meeting Yoongi halfway, and licks your cum from his chin and lips. They kiss deeply, hungrily, lapping your taste from one another, and you watch reverently, wishing for one of them to kiss you in that way—too need you in that way. How is it, you wonder, that you can be practically nude, restrained, covered in your own cum, and the center of attention, and still feel such a deep, aching sense of loneliness and dread?

The feeling fades as skin rubs over your cunt, soft yet firm. You turn your head, slowly as if in a dream, and find Jeongguk standing between your legs with his satin leopard shirt unbuttoned and his slacks open, cock standing erect between the parted zipper. He glares down at you like an animal who has caught his prey, and you part your lips to take a deep, eager breath, feeling at a loss for words. 

"May I?" Jeongguk asks, rubbing his cockhead over you once more—undoubtedly the sensation you felt moments ago. 

You nod, head turning once more to watch Yoongi and Namjoon paw at one another, connected at the lips, then return your gaze to Jeongguk. He stares down at you as if in waiting, so you croak out a soft, "Please."

"Please, what?" Jeongguk asks. 

Licking your lips, you notice Taehyung standing over Jeongguk's shoulder, dark eyes on you. You are high enough that you wonder whether he would like to fuck you, as well. And with a lift of one of his eyebrows, you wonder whether he has somehow just read your mind, although it is more likely that he is encouraging you to answer Jeongguk.

"Please fuck me," you finally say to Jeongguk, though you have failed to rip your gaze from Taehyung. His hands are nowhere to be seen, and you can't help but imagine him touching himself to the sight of you. 

"Slowly," Taehyung says, eyes on you. "Make her beg a little more."

Jeongguk grins, responds with a sharp, "Yes, sir," and steps forward. His cock rubs against you again, grazing over your clit before catching on your entrance, and you hold your breath in anticipation. Only he does not press forward. He does not enter you. Instead, he stands watching you with a hint of a grin that spells trouble. And you are not too proud to beg. 

"Jeongguk," you mutter, wiggling in the swing, doing your best to push yourself forward but doing nothing that helps your cause whatsoever. "Please."

"Please, wh—"

"Fuck me!" you practically scream. 

Jeongguk chuckles, as does Taehyung. To your right, where Yoongi and Namjoon had been connected at the lips, the shapes and shadows of them move to stand behind you. 

"Please," you say again, knitting your brow, attempting to hold your head up despite how tired your neck feels. You hold eye contact as well as you can manage, but your eyelids flicker against your will. "Please fuck me. I need you."

Hands reach and grab your breasts—tan, lithe fingers; Namjoon's hands. He squeezes you firmly and rolls your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, causing you to exhale and almost drop your head. You want to feel full so badly, and you wish Jeongguk would cave. 

"I said go slow and make her beg," Taehyung says as his hands snake around Jeongguk's waist and rub over his chest and stomach, "not leave her empty and desperate."

Jeongguk's eyes fall to your cunt, where he rubs himself languidly over you, teasing your parted lips and ghosting over your hole. He appears hypnotized, staring down at you, barely moving. This makes Taehyung snicker and paw a little more aggressively at his chest. 

"If you won't fuck her, I'm sure someone else will," Taehyung says, gaze roving between your pussy and your face. "You don't want to lose your chance, do you, baby?"

You attempt to read his expression, wondering whether he is insinuating that he will be the one to finally fill you the way you need—a thought that you are not sure you should be having but that the drugs will not let you let go of. Neck tired, you drop your head back and shiver, feeling suddenly cold. You begin to become acutely aware of how untouched and naked you are. Even Namjoon's hands have moved away from your chest, leaving you on display. 

"Please, someone," you complain, sounding whinier than you want. You shiver harder, each second seeming to pull you down from your high and cover you in a mist of freezing discomfort. "Touch me."

Warm hands press to your forehead and face, and you look up to see Yoongi leaning over you. His brow is knit, outgrown hair hanging prettily in his face. "Are you coming down?" He asks. 

You nod. You must be; the jittery discomfort is impossible to ignore, and the euphoria feels dull. 

"Hang on, Ggeuk," Yoongi says as he disappears. He rummages through some fabric and reappears. "This is the same as the shit you took upstairs," he says, then, "Open," and you do as you are told, opening your mouth with an exaggerated ahhh sound. The powder that hits your tongue is intensely bitter and antiseptic tasting, causing you to cringe and pucker, desperately gathering all the saliva you can in your mouth and swallowing it down. 

Namjoon, however, takes your mouth and prises it open, then leans close and dribbles cold water from his lips to yours. When and where Namjoon produced water, you are unsure, but you open wide, accepting his offering graciously, allowing it to drip down your throat, taking traces of the unpleasant flavor with it. 

"More?" he asks, and you nod, still feeling the lingering drugs on your tongue. Namjoon lifts a glass to his lips, fills his mouth, and then leans close, allowing it to spittle out and onto your tongue. 

Once Namjoon is finished, he stands and takes a step back. Yoongi steps close and, taking advantage of how wide open your mouth still is, begins to tap the head of his cock against your tongue. You attempt to open wider—attempt to move closer—reaching back in the hopes of grabbing onto him and moving him near enough to allow you to suck his dick. However, even he seems eager to tease, and he keeps himself just out of reach. You whimper and moan, mouth lolled open. Namjoon chuckles and reaches once more to paw at your breasts, keeping his beautifully erect cock too far from reach, as well. 

"You guys are the worst," you pout, closing your mouth to Yoongi's teasing and jutting out your bottom lip instead. 

"Alright," Yoongi chuckles, reaching for your jaw. "No more teasing. Jeonggukah, fuck her right now or Namjoon will take your place."

You miss whatever snarky remark Jeongguk says in favor of loudly saying, "Finally!" 

Hands grip your thighs, and you are speared unceremoniously and somewhat unyieldingly on Jeongguk's thick, hard cock. The sensation makes you squeal, involuntarily bucking your hips, and he grips tightly, forcing you to take his entire length all at once. 

"Fuck," you pant, mouth hung open and attempting to angle your head upward to watch Jeongguk fuck you. But your head is held in place as two fingers press down on your tongue, causing drool to pool before those fingers are replaced with a dick. 

Suddenly, you are too full, worked from both ends—gently on one end and rather roughly on the other. You attempt to breathe and relax as your throat is slowly but eagerly opened and fucked, all the while Jeongguk's thighs slam against you in a rhythm that jostles you and causes you to deepthroat who you presume to be Yoongi.

Had Taehyung's earlier game been testing whether you would be able to tell the difference between their dicks in your mouth with you down on your knees, you think you would have easily won. You think you would know any part of them inside any part of you. But at this angle, unable to even properly see the legs of the man who holds you so tenderly but eagerly, with Jeongguk pounding into you like a ravenous beast, you are stumped. Everyone in the room seems to be moaning and gasping, and you imagine that whoever's dick is not in your mouth is in someone else's hand, judging by the sound of skin rubbing against skin. The hands on either side of your face could be mismatched; in this position you are unable to guess.

As the head of the mystery cock presses even deeper into your throat, however, seemingly stretching and opening you in a new, exciting way, the shattered, blissful sound that rips out belongs to Yoongi, and all at once, you are certain that it must be him. And then he pulls out, trailing long strings of saliva from deep in your throat that turn cold the second they hit the air and fall against your chin and down to the floor, bringing Yoongi's paler thighs into view. You gasp for air but allow fingers to press against your tongue. Only now are you able to fully focus on the way your pussy is stretched and pounded so well, and you moan unabashedly, your body quaking its way toward another orgasm. 

It occurs to you that you must be high again, but this time from cocaine. The powder Yoongi dropped onto your tongue certainly tasted like the molly you had earlier, but also something else—a combination, no doubt.

Yoongi's hand grips your neck and holds your head up at an angle that allows you to fully see Jeongguk. He is naked and covered in sweat, fingers digging into your skin, and he looks stunning as he fucks you as hard as he seems able to. As the hand presses against your throat and another hand belonging to Namjoon snakes through the straps of the swing and begins to rub over your clit, you explode from pleasure. 

Jeongguk's expression widens from alarm and pleasure, and he has to keep from getting pushed out of your cunt as wave after wave crashes over you. When he finally does pull out, he is sprayed with your release, giving you only seconds to scream from the intense orgasm that Namjoon urges out with his swirling fingertips before Jeongguk's cock is back inside you, slamming hard. 

Only when Jeongguk pulls out and takes a step back do you see Taehyung in the shadows down on his knees. He opens his lips, and Jeongguk slides his glistening cock inside, moaning as Taehyung finishes him off, swallowing his cum. You spiral on the thought of Taehyung also tasting you but are distracted by Namjoon stepping in front of the scene, stroking his cock and looking down at the mess that is your spread, dripping pussy. 

You expect him to fuck you, but he falls to his knees to lap over your cunt and thighs. He prods three long fingers inside you, and you sigh against the hand still at your throat, lost to bliss. It is incredible how easily you cum, even as your high begins to build once more and the tingling nearly feels like too much to bear. When Yoongi's hand lifts from your throat, you feel somehow dizzier, watching as he steps around the swing to join Namjoon on his knees. 

Everything is a momentary blur as Namjoon and Yoongi take turns between your legs, using their lips, tongues, and hands to make you unravel past the point of becoming non-verbal. You are vaguely aware of hands on your face, throat, and breasts, feeling the presence of Jeongguk behind you at times and beside you at others. The only constant is Taehyung standing ahead, in shadow, watching. 

You take Jeongguk's cock in your throat and drool shamelessly, making as much of a mess as the men between your legs are. In waves, you feel pleasure acutely, bursting through each inch of you, only for it to dull out while you focus on opening your throat as far as it will go. It feels like a dream the way you are touched and used; the dim red and purple lights seem to streak each time you open your eyes. 

It is only when your legs are released from the restraints and you are forced to sit up that you feel fully in your body once more and aware of the room and its inhabitants. You hum questioningly and wipe drool from your chin as the straps are moved from beneath you, and you are made to place your feet on the floor in a squatting position.

Below you, Namjoon lies back against the carpet, atop what looks like a bedsheet, and he reaches up to take you by the hips and pull you down. You spear easily on his thick, hard cock, gripping onto the straps of the swing that connect to the ceiling high above your head on either side for stability, and use your leverage to lift and lower yourself. Namjoon meets you halfway, thrusting his hips upward, and the sensation pulls a raspy moan from your mouth—the first sound you have made in a while. 

You bounce eagerly on his dick, lost in the movement while your head lols, and you moan unabashedly, so full and at such an incredible angle. Hands paw at your breasts and face, and you open your eyes to find Yoongi to your left, cock leaking and eager. Your lips are sore from stretching around cocks, but you are happy to comply, sucking him only half as deep as you would like but humming and moaning and drooling just for him.

Namjoon holds you in place by the hips and fucks hard and fast, causing you to drop Yoongi from your mouth and scream through an intense, dizzying orgasm. Yoongi gets onto the floor in time to lap over your cunt and make you quake from overwhelming pleasure, and then you feel Namjoon's hips still as he fills you with his hot release.

Your legs shake as you are pulled to your feet and maneuvered. You release the straps of the swing and barely catch sight of the bed before you are bent over the edge of the mattress with one large hand pressing the side of your face firmly against the comforter. 

"Yes, please," you beg, desperate for the way Yoongi holds you down and makes you his. 

"Please, what?" he asks, voice low and close, breath hot against your face. 

"Fuck me, Yoongi. Please."

You feel the tip of his cock graze over your entrance, catching on the stretched and ripped fishnet fabric that once covered you. Your lips open and close, dragging over the soft bedding, unable to fully voice your need and desire. It almost feels unfair that you should get to enjoy him last. 

"You miss my cock this much?" he asks, and you realize you have been grinding your ass against him like a bitch in heat. 

You nod, winning you a smack against the ass that stings enough to make you squeal. Yoongi squeezes the spot where he slapped and says, "Use your words," in a sharp, commanding tone. 

"Yes, sir," you whine. "I've missed your cock. Please. Please, please."

Yoongi lessens the press of your face but keeps his hand on your cheek, holding you in place, showing you that it is he who calls the shots. He rubs his cock over your hole and then presses slow and deep, forcing you to gasp and tremble. You feel sore and used, but you are desperate for more—for him. There is a part of you that is glad it is only the two of you in this moment.

Yoongi starts slowly with one hand on your face and the other on your ass, spreading you. He pulls and pushes in long strokes that you feel each and every inch of, driving you absolutely insane with want. Then he lifts his hand from your face, making you acutely aware of the fact that you had been drooling a cold spot onto the blanket. Both hands find your hips, and you lift your head in time for Yoongi to snap forward, making your back bow with pleasure. 

He fucks you hard and fast, a delicious rhythm that you know by heart. You grip onto the comforter and keep your head lifted, letting out each desperate sound that crawls up your throat, eager for Yoongi to know just how good he makes you feel. He lifts one hand and wraps his fingers around your throat, and you see stars, vision blacking as your eyelids flutter closed and you chase a long, rolling orgasm that seems to build and crash, over and over, until your legs are shaking and your body falls limp.

Yoongi continues to use you, slapping and squeezing your ass. "So fucking perfect for me," he moans, thighs crashing against you in loud slaps that burst loudly in the otherwise quiet room. 

You nearly forget that it is not just the two of you in existence, that there are other bodies in this room, more bodies upstairs, infinite other bodies in the world. The urge to cry builds and breaks, tears wetting your cheeks and the blanket as Yoongi's thrusts slow into deep rolls, filling you so perfectly. Yoongi must have given you more of the drug cocktail than you managed to suck from Hwasa's fingertip the first time because you feel more high than you have all night. Immensely high. High in a way that makes you question whether you have ever loved another person as much as you love Min Yoongi—in this moment, but in the soft, quiet moments, as well. 

Yoongi moans and digs his fingers into your skin, then he cums deep inside you. Rather than pull out, he lies forward, draping his body over yours, panting against you, and pressing you forward. It is awkward the way your bodies are bent, and it makes you giggle. Yoongi chuckles in return, then slowly begins to stand. He presses his lips to your neck and shoulders, then his warmth retreats, leaving behind sweat that turns cold and makes you shiver. 

It occurs to you that you will need to move, and you groan. The thought of standing—of using your legs at all—feels impossible. Luckily, a warm hand presses against your lower back, and Namjoon's deep, sweet voice instructs you to stay where you are. A warm cloth rubs over your sore cunt, and you jolt before relaxing into the touch. He wipes you down, then leans close and kisses your neck and shoulder similar to the way Yoongi had. 

Yoongi and Namjoon—wearing black slacks but no shirts, glistening with a sheen of sweat—assist you with getting fully naked before gathering your clothing. You are given a dry, clean pair of panties, which Yoongi pulls from the pocket of his jacket, flashing a sheepish grin as he tucks the soiled pair in their place. The stockings are ruined and tossed aside, and Yoongi apologizes for not knowing to bring another set.

"You owe Hyejin," you say with a raised eyebrow, attempting to seem upset about the inconvenience to your friend but unable to keep from smiling. 

You realize now that Taehyung and Jeongguk are gone, and you wonder whether they are in another room or have gone back up to the party. You mean to ask, but you are still too floaty to focus on anything but the hands on your body, zipping your dress and stepping each foot into socks and boots. As Yoongi slides his arms into a black satin shirt, you lean half-sitting against the bed, watching him. You have missed those hands, that hair, those muscles. Everything about him. And yet, you are frozen in a limbo of sorts, even now hesitating to reach out and touch him. 

His jacket is draped over the end of the bed to your right, and you watch as he walks past, picks it up, and puts it on. You feel mesmerized by his presence, by the slight ringing in your ears, by your body continuing to fully return to itself. You are unsure whether it is the drugs or the sex, or likely both, but you feel as if you are still somewhat tethered to your corporeal form but not fully inhabiting it. 

Yoongi runs his hands down his front, smoothing down his jacket, then turns to hand Namjoon his. They lean close, smile sweetly, and share a soft, slow kiss. Then Yoongi pulls his phone from his slacks pocket, thumbs around, and smiles. 

"Tae wants the stash," he says. 

Finally, you ask, "Where did they go?"

"Next door," Namjoon replies as he straightens his jacket, which covers a black satin shirt matching the one Yoongi wears. 

Yoongi steps forward and uses his fingertips to tilt your chin upward. You expect a kiss and part your lips, but Yoongi uses his thumbs to rub at what you imagine is very smeared makeup. Once he is satisfied, he hums and places a kiss against the tip of your nose. He attempts to step back, dropping his hands from your face, but you are unsatisfied, and you grab onto the lapels of his jacket, yanking him toward you with a force that makes the two of you stumble.

"Not so fast," you mutter before your lips meet. You sigh into the feeling and continue to grip his jacket, relaxing only as Yoongi's arms encircle your waist and pull you close.

He deepens the kiss, and tears streak down your cheeks, hot and fast. You chase his tongue, licking, tasting him, tasting yourself, drowning in this moment, in him. And then your tears turn into sobs, and you break the kiss and fall into Yoongi's chest. You tell yourself that it is just the drugs, that you are simply overwhelmed, but you know that is not the full truth. You love him. You miss him. As much as all of this has been an incredible reprieve, the thought of letting him go again feels like a nightmare. 

But what could be a greater nightmare than witnessing your friend get shot, than feeling the crushing weight of another vehicle slamming into yours, than the popping crunch of bullets meeting glass and polycarbonates? Your heart feels ripped in two, and you catch your breath, shaking your head as two deep, concerned voices ask whether you are alright, then attempting to nod, knowing that the gesture is unconvincing. 

"This has all been a lot for you," Namjoon says, warm thumbs stroking your cheeks. You open your eyes to find his sad smile shining toward you and collapse into his chest, still partially in Yoongi's hold. 

The two of them softly shush and stroke you, telling you that you are safe and loved, that they are sorry for how intense everything has become, how they should have known you would need more aftercare. 

"Want to go back to the hanok?" Yoongi offers. "A dip in the tub might be good for you."

You think about Yoongi and Namjoon in Ryujin's home, and your stomach roils. Everything has been significantly too strange, and that might make matters worse. And there are still people upstairs who you would like to spend time with. One in particular who you feel like you haven't seen in many lifetimes.

"No," you insist, catching your breath. "You're right, it got too intense. I just needed to come back to earth a little more."

Despite being antsy to leave this room that smells like sweat and cum, they continue to comfort you a little longer. It feels nice, and you tilt your head in a way that urges a soft, sweet kiss from Namjoon. Then the three of you finally bid this room farewell, and you walk into the hallway, hand in hand with Yoongi on your left and Namjoon on your right. 

Only, Yoongi pulls away at the first door on the left and knocks, digging into his pocket and pulling out a silver vial that is similar to the one he wears on a chain around his neck, but larger. You wait a beat, breathing deeply in an attempt to get your bearings. At some point, the high must have plateaued because you can feel yourself coming down again, and this time, you are certain that you do not need more powders floating around in your bloodstream. 

The door swings open, and you are shocked to see Taehyung standing in only a pair of dark briefs. His hair is tousled, body is covered in sweat, and there are deep scratches down his chest and arms that are raised and red. Yoongi hands the vial over, which Taehyung takes, nodding his thanks. You look past Taehyung to see a nude Jeongguk in the middle of the room, restrained to a sex swing but standing—well, swaying—with his body limp and head drooped forward. He, too, has deep welts scratched down his arms and chest, as well as other red marks that suggest impact play of some kind.

"He just needs a little pick-me-up," Taehyung says with a wink before disappearing into the room and shutting the door behind him. You remain standing with your mouth agape until Yoongi takes you by the hand, and you are led back upstairs.

Namjoon excuses himself to the restroom, and you consider following, self-conscious about the way you must look after what has taken place. You trust that Yoongi will not bring you back upstairs with messy hair and makeup, but you imagine you must have cried and rubbed off every last trace of eyeshadow and mascara. Still, you are more eager to have a drink in hand and continue with Yoongi into the main hall. 

Your legs tremble as you make your way to the party, and a jolt of fear rips through you at the sight of the man standing behind the bar who looks suspiciously like Christian, causing your step to falter. Yoongi clocks the movement, turning to you with a hum, and you look over to him, to his curious gaze, then ahead, opening your mouth to tell him what you see. Only, you do not see Christian. The bartender has shaggy dark hair and wears all black, but otherwise looks like every other man in the building. Hell, in a dark enough room, with long enough hair, Jeongguk could look enough like Christian to give you pause. 

You chuckle and smile softly, doing your best to play it off. "Just a little shaky from the come-down."

Yoongi hums again, accepting your answer as the two of you continue your approach to the bar. Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jimin stand along the rightmost edge, drinks in hand. Jimin faces you with his elbows against the bar between Seokjin and Hoseok, who seem to be speaking to and around him. They all wear tan suits—Seokjin's and Hoseok's a darker shade with beige ties and burgundy shirts. Jimin's suit is lighter, fitted tighter, and he wears what appears to be a satin ascot tucked into a white shirt with its top two buttons undone and burgundy  suede loafers. 

As you approach, you notice a glazed-over darkness in Jimin's eyes, and you have to wonder whether he has partaken in the drugs. He smiles lazy and open, pushing off the bar and turning momentarily to shove his glass of clear liquid into Seokjin's free hand. Seokjin scoffs as if Jimin's action inconveniences him, but his eyes are soft and loving as he shakes his head and continues his conversation with Hoseok, double-fisting his and Jimin's drinks

A sexy R&B song plays overhead, and Jimin's hips dip and sway as he approaches. You watch his movements, impressed with how fluid and delicate he can be. He lifts his hands when you are close enough and runs fingertips of both hands gently over your temples, to your cheeks, and along your neck. A shiver works its way down your spine, and you grin through slightly clattering teeth. The ascot around his neck has a pretty floral pattern and you feel the urge to touch it.  

"Need more molly, dove?" Jimin asks.

You shake your head, unsure whether you can handle the come-up and come-down again after all that has transpired downstairs—especially given your emotional state, although your nerves seem to have calmed a bit since your episode downstairs.

"Coke?" he offers, pulling a chain around his neck and revealing a large silver cross with roses inlaid all around it. 

With a chuckle, you nod. You have no evidence to support the claim, but you feel like cocaine might even you out. Or it could make you worse. Still, you accept when Jimin unscrews the top of the cross and produces a small spoon connected to his chain that is already full of white powder. You lean close and lift your hand to delicately hold his hand in place and snort the drug into your right nostril. Jimin retrieves one more spoonful, and you repeat the motion on the left side. All the while, Yoongi holds onto your right hand. 

"So," Jimin says, leaning to rest his forehead against yours and speaking as he snorts two small piles of coke and then replaces the spoon. "Yoongi's scar…he won't tell me how it all went down, and you know I will die if I don't have all the gossip."

Yoongi's hold on your hand loosens and falls away, and you attempt to look his way, but you are stuck in place as Jimin's arms snake around your waist. 

"Whiskey, darling?" Yoongi asks, leaning close. 

You try to nod and mutter, "Yes, please. Thank you."

Once he walks away, you sigh and lift your arms to wrap around Jimin. He sways slightly to the music, and you mirror his movements, unable to resist. 

"Are you sure you want to recount that night?" you ask. 

Jimin hums and nods. You can't see much, but you can see him smile. 

You sigh. "After you were shot, I went into a rage." Emotions build, trembling as they fill your chest. Your voice wavers as you say, "Jimin, I lost my fucking mind."

Jimin's arms tighten, and he pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on your shoulder. You sigh and smile, wrapping him in a tight embrace. It is hard not to lament the fact that he has finally woken up and you are not in Seoul to spend time with him. You miss him dearly, and all the chaos that is Paradise. 

Once the hug loosens, you both stand straight, hands still on each other's hips. Jimin sways and heavy-blinks, and you wonder why he is so content wasting his high on this moment when he could be on the dancefloor or tangled downstairs with someone on one of the beds. When he giggles, his entire face lights up. 

"Doll…I don't know what this has to do with his scar."

At this, you swallow thickly and rapidly blink. The cocaine is hitting, and you have to take in a deep breath.  

"Just listen," you say, then swallow again. Jimin frowns. "After you were…" you trail off, unable to say it again. 

Jimin raises his eyebrows, slowly and clearly saying, "Shot."

You let out a breath that is halfway to laughter and nod, causing him to smile in return. "Yes, well, I emptied my clip in the guy's face." Jimin's eyes widen and he gasps. "I'm sure I looked insane just shooting a dead man in the head over and over and…"

The song switches to something slightly more upbeat and Jimin sways harder. You struggle with the mental image of the man on the ground with six bullets turning his face into a pile of gore. The sound of flesh, blood, and bone becoming pulp with each shot echoes in your mind and you swallow thickly, then look over Jimin's shoulder, nodding to Yoongi. You need that drink. 

Yoongi, who leans against the bar between Namjoon on his left and Seokjin and Hoseok on his right, nods once and steps forward, holding a glass of whiskey in each hand. You wonder whether he has stood there just like that this entire time waiting for your signal. Has he been watching you? What must he think, knowing you feel so deeply for him despite being unwilling to return to his home? Does this, too, open a deep scar on his heart matching the one over his eye?

You stand a bit straighter as Yoongi approaches, and Jimin mirrors you then slowly pulls away, giving you distance. He continues to dance, but there is a faraway look in his eye as you reach past him for the drink in Yoongi's hand. 

"Mind if I cut in?" Yoongi asks.

Jimin steps closer, pulling you tight once more, causing your fingers to slip away from the glass that is thankfully still held tightly in Yoongi's grasp. 

"Yes, I fucking mind," Jimin says in a snarky tone. You continue to reach for the drink. "She was entreating me with the wonderfully harrowing tale of how you got that pretty little battle scar, since you won't tell me."

Yoongi groans and rolls his eyes, attempting a smile. But you can tell that there is something else in that expression. Something he does his best to tamp down and keep out of sight. He hands you his drink and nods a little bow before returning to the bar. 

"Touchy subject?" Jimin teases.

You frown, "Well, I was the one who gave him the scar."

Jimin's hold on you drops at the same time his mouth falls open. Suddenly, you want to curl in on yourself, but you opt to lift the whiskey to your lips and take a nice slow swig, instead. It burns against your tongue, much stronger and more flavorful than what you had been drinking earlier in the evening, and it takes you a moment to gather yourself and continue your story. 

"As I said, you were shot and I lost my mind. First, I emptied my clip into the man's head. Then, out of anger over having no more bullets, I tried to bludgeon him with the butt of the gun. But Namjoon caught me and dragged me away, and my weapon was confiscated."

You pause again to take a sip, doing your best to read the expression on Jimin's face. It seems to be a mix of shock and sadness, but also something akin to admiration.

"I was still in a rage, and so I reached for the switchblade that Jeongguk and Taehyung gifted me, which was in a garter on my thigh." You watch as Jimin's expression deepens, and against your will, tears begin to form in your eyes. You rapidly blink, doing your best not to let them fall, and as you continue, your voice wavers. "I took out the knife and attempted to lunge forward. Namjoon caught my hand and pulled it back, and tip must have—"

You remember the way the blade caught and snagged; the way blood leaked between Yoongi's fingers. With a gulp, you finish your drink. Jimin thumbs at the tears you are unable to prevent from falling, then takes your hand and leads you out of the main room and into the hallway, near the restrooms. It is dark and a bit quieter, and he pulls your empty glass from your hand, then wraps you in a hug.

Although you do not feel the urge to fully cry, you lean into the hug and breathe deeply, allowing the tears that have formed to fall. Jimin's hands—which are free of drinkware, and you are unsure how—rub over your shoulders and neck. After a long moment of breathing in Jimin's cologne and settling your heart, you nod and Jimin breaks the hug. You feel exhausted by this night. 

Jimin takes your hand and pulls you into the restroom, which is too brightly lit for comfort, making you squint. He pulls a tube of mascara from the inner breast pocket of his jacket and tilts your face toward him, making you smile. "I spoke to Ryujin about bringing you to Paradise some time soon, if that's something you want."

Your smile widens and you do your best to hold your face as still as possible as you say, "I would love that."

"It will be good for you and Yoongi to be seen together in public more than once in a blue moon," he explains, then finishes his task while adding, "and, of course, we all miss you."

"I miss you, too," you say barely above a whisper. 

Jimin uses water to fuss with your hair, which you opt not to perceive in the mirror, worried about the weathered, sad person you may find staring back at you. Then he leads you back to the bar for shots of something fruity and strawberry-flavored. He and Hwasa pull you to an empty dance cage, and the three of you lose yourselves to the music while multiple tiny piles of cocaine are introduced to your nose and simmer through your body.

It feels nice to let go and dance, to touch and be touched in friendly and flirtatious ways—to feel like, in this moment, you simply exist outside of the mafia families that surround you. It is only when you are panting and exhausted that the three of you leave the cage and seek out water. 

You are tipsy and stumble a bit toward the bar. Taehyung and Jeongguk have returned—Taehyung appearing perfectly put together and Jeongguk looking like he has been to hell and back, shell-shocked with a wide stare and his hair an absolute mess—and you wink at them on your way to the bar. 

As you wait for a glass of water, Yoongi's cologne tickles your senses and large hands begin to paw at you. "I was watching you dance," he says into your ear, voice low and whiskey-laced. 

"Oh?" you ask, smiling but keeping your gaze ahead. The water is set before you, and you gulp it down, feeling the cold absorb into your body, giving you chills. When you turn to Yoongi, his jaw is set as if he is angry, but you know that it is a horny impatience that he masks.

"Darling," he groans, eyes bloodshot, drunk.

You attempt to bite back a smile, but it is impossible, and the sight of your glee seems to make him all the more impatient. Poor guy looks pained. You lean close, high on your toes to whisper, "Baby, I'm sore."

He groans and nods in pained understanding, making you giggle. "Next time I want you all to myself," he insists, and you nod. You would like that.

Namjoon, whose back had been to the two of you turns, notices Yoongi's expression and cocks his head. You let your eyes trail down and then back up as you say, "He has a problem that needs to be taken care of. Be a dear?"

"Ah," he says in understanding. 

Namjoon leads Yoongi off toward the hallway—to the restroom or back downstairs, you imagine. You chuckle and turn back to the bar for another glass of whiskey as Taehyung sidles up to your right, taking Yoongi's place.

"How do you feel?" he asks, leaning close. 

You scoff, making him cock his head. "Good," you say on a deep exhale, facing him. "And you?"

Taehyung grins, eyes sparkling. "Good."

"Good," you say, turning back to the bar. You manage to order another glass of the whiskey Yoongi has been drinking with your eyes ahead, but you can feel Taehyung's intense gaze on you. 

"What?" you complain when a glass is in your hands. You turn toward him but look at the golden tiger on his lapel.

"Just thinking," he says. Annoying.

You lift your gaze to his, asking, "About what?" 

Taehyung licks his lips and says, "You," giving you chills. 

You find it hard to hold his intense stare and drop your eyes to his chest once more, taking a drink of whiskey. 

"Just making sure you're actually doing well," he clarifies. "The scene in there was pretty intense."

"That it was," you say. You feel antsy, though you are not sure why. Could it be due to the way you were thinking about Taehyung while high? You wonder whether you might feel that way about him while sober. 

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" he asks, quieter.

Suddenly, you feel silly. You were not uncomfortable with Taehyung in the room with you before, and there is no reason you should be now. 

"No," you say, looking him in the eye. "Sorry. You are right that it was intense, and I think I am still spiraling a little from it all."

"My presence there doesn't bother you?"

You open your mouth but hesitate, gaze falling to his mouth as you wonder what he might kiss like. "No," you say, swallowing your pride before continuing. "I like having you there."

"I'm glad," you watch his lips say. You feel silly for staring openly, but it is the first time you ever have. Taehyung really is beautiful, and his soft, semi-rectangular pout intrigues you almost as much as the cold psychopathy you occasionally glimpse in his eyes.

"It is strange?" you ask, looking up into his eyes. The expression you find is just as intense as it was earlier. "Watching, I mean."

Taehyung's eyes trail back and forth between yours. He appears to be gathering his thoughts. When he simply shakes his head and says nothing more, you lift your free hand to smack him on the arm. With a chuckle, he leans close. 

"I like to share and watch, but otherwise not become more involved." You open your mouth and begin to ask why, but he cuts you off, leaning closer. "Nobody can handle my wrath quite like Jeongguk can. I am afraid fucking me is akin to having a near-death experience."

A gasp falls from your lips, in part because you know he is not joking, and because you are so curious to know more. You recall the way Jeongguk looked hanging from his wrists earlier, like a corpse waiting to be butchered. Taehyung chuckles in your ear, presses a soft kiss to your temple, and stands up straight. 

"Trust me, it is an honor to be in audience of you, buttercup. You put on quite the show."

This makes you laugh, pushing all the tension out. You feel silly but relieved and step to the side, away from the bar enough to courtesy and say, "Thank you," winning a deep chuckle from Taehyung. 

Yoongi and Namjoon return—Yoongi looking far better than he had before, and Namjoon with fresh reddened fingerprints around his neck. You lament missing whatever the two of them managed to do so fast but ultimately feel glad to have sorted out whatever it is you were feeling for Taehyung. It is a relief to keep at least some relationships semi-platonic, especially if being fucked by him means putting your safety and well-being at risk. You think that perhaps this revelation explains a lot about Jeongguk. 

You lift your whiskey to your lips, but Yoongi swipes it from your hand, holding stern eye contact as he drinks the entire glass at once. A surge of petulance rises, outmatched only by how much you absolutely adore him with his long, wavy hair and sharp red scar. He makes a dramatic ahh sound as if he had just quenched his thirst with the purest water, then leans into you to set the empty glass onto the bar top. 

"What—" you begin, hoping to ask what his problem is, or perhaps what the fuck he thinks he is doing, but he  mutters, "Come with me," and takes you by the hand, leading you through the hall to the hallway and up into the VIP section, causing you to stumble in haste to keep up. It is vacant in this area, save for a security guard who nods as you pass, and you are pulled to a dark corner that does not look out over the dancefloor or any other space that another living human may be occupying. 

Without saying a word, Yoongi pulls your legitimate engagement ring from his pocket—not the larger one meant for show—and lowers to one knee. Your stomach dips from the movement, and you suddenly feel unstable on your feet. 

"I have a proposition for you," he says, taking your left hand and sliding the cold metal onto your ring finger. You stare at him, not quite ready to perceive the ring on your hand once more. Rather than respond, you simply stare at Yoongi, who licks his lips and glances up at you pleadingly. 

"I could have a house built for you," he says as if it is nothing—as if simply willing a house into existence is as easy to him as loading bullets into a handgun. "Deep on the property, past the gardens and the other homes, where nobody could ever bother you. You can have all the space you desire, but still be close to us."

Tears build, and you feel bile rise to your throat. This offer is enormous and ridiculous, and there is simply no way you would feel wholly safe or comfortable living on the same plot of land as his mansion. You search for what to say, but words fail you. It feels impossible to tell Yoongi to his face that this offer is preposterous, yet you cannot bring yourself to even attempt to consider it. 

He must read the concern on your face, and he sits up a little taller, gripping your hand between his two as if you are suddenly a lifeline that he must not let go of. 

"I can buy you a house in Seoul. Or a penthouse, if you prefer an apartment. You can have a private entrance with my most trusted men guarding, and be a short drive away rather than a long one."

This offer is far more reasonable, but it still worries you. What if news gets out that Yoongi's fiancé is not only living separately from him but that they have managed to spot you coming and going? How difficult would it be for someone like Christian to find you?

"Yoongi, I don't know," you finally say. Your guts roil with uncertainty, and your heart pounds, making you feel nauseated. 

Yoongi nods and smiles, but you can see that he is disappointed. Here before you, down on one knee, is a man who is not used to being told no. This is not how he anticipated this would go, and it is clear that is the case. 

"Alright," he says, standing with your hand still tight between his. He pulls you close for a hug, and you hesitate before lifting your arms to return the embrace. "I am sorry if that was not the right thing to offer. I just thought—"

"No," you say, shaking your head and tilting your face into his neck. You press your lips to his skin. "It was a generous offer, Yoongi. An amazing one, really. I'm just…I don't know. I'm still really afraid."

Yoongi hugs you tighter, and you breathe deeply, eyes closed, silently existing in this moment. It is impossible not to imagine what life with him could be like under any other circumstance, especially now. 

"I understand," he says, pulling back just far enough to rest his forehead against yours. "We can discuss it again if and when you are ready. I am in no rush, darling. Really. I just miss you." Yoongi kisses you softly and says, "I miss you so fucking much."

"I miss you too," you say, doing your best to smile through the tumult of emotion. "It's hell without you, Yoongi. I miss so much about being with you…but there have been so many moments that have had too negative of an impact on my mental health. I don't want this to be forever, though.  And when I'm ready, we can talk about it some more. Really, it is such a kind offer, and I appreciate it more than I could ever say."

Yoongi's expression conveys a deep sadness the likes of which you have never seen. You wish more than anything that you could wave a magic wand and make everything normal. No more drugs, no more guns, no more fires or car crashes. The anxiety that fills you at the thought of watching him return to Seoul without you is similar to the anxiety you feel over staying in a hanok full of strangers in Busan whose intentions you are not completely sure you understand or trust. 

You continue to hold one another for a moment longer, swaying slightly. Whether it is from the alcohol, or the music playing, or the simple enjoyment of the movement, you are uncertain, aware only that it is nice to be here with him like this. 

"I fear we should head back to Seoul soon," Yoongi finally says. 

Of course, the realization is somewhat soul-crushing. Just because you are in no rush to return to his mansion does not mean you want him to hurry back there, either. 

"Tonight?" you ask, leaning back and cocking your head to the side. Yoongi raises his eyebrows, and you shrug. "I just thought maybe you would leave in the morning."

He appears to think it over. "I suppose I could stay for one night."

From one simple sentence, you feel elated. Falling asleep beside Yoongi is something you have come to deeply miss. Except…you frown. 

"I'm not sure how I feel about sleeping under Ryujin's roof with you. Is that weird? Should I not care?"

Yoongi chuckles. He takes your hand and leads you back through the dark VIP area toward the rest of the party. "I have a penthouse nearby, darling."

"Of course, you do," you say with a playful hint of annoyance. Yoongi squeezes your hand, filling you with the same warmth and butterflies that you remember from months past. 

"You can part from your girls for a night?" Yoongi teases as you enter the hallway. 

You scoff. "Meaning, what?"

He leans close and says, "I see the way Hyejin looks at you. Or…what is it you call her…Hwasa? It really rolls off the tongue." Your mouth falls open, and you watch as his smile sharpens into a grin. "Sorry, is the thought of her name on your tongue making you flustered, darling?"

Heat rises to your cheeks, and you have to look away. As the two of you enter the main hall, you glance to the dance cage you were in earlier to find Hwasa and Jimin grinding in the way two platonic queer besties would. She certainly is dressed to impress with her bodice and skirt hugging each of her curves as if the material was cut specifically for her body. Yoongi chuckles darkly and squeezes your hand before letting it go, only to slide it around your waist and tug you close. 

"I wouldn't mind, you know," he says so low that you are not quite sure you heard him. There are no lyrics to the music that plays, but it is loud enough to mask parts of his tone. 

"Hmm?" you ask, turning to look at him. 

"I wouldn't mind," he says, leaning to press a kiss to your lips. "If you wanted to fuck her."

"Oh, my god," you grumble, turning your face away as your cheeks go even hotter. Leave it to Yoongi to be able to have a serious conversation for precisely one brief moment before returning to his natural state of being a feral, horny monster. 

Namjoon spots the two of you and begins to approach, eyes quickly darting down to the ring on your hand as a smile tugs at his lips.

"I am just saying," Yoongi continues, and you wish he would not, "no need to ask permission. The answer is already yes."

Namjoon leans to press a kiss to your lips, then looks between the two of you, asking, "Permission for what?"

You feel antsy and glance around, making sure nobody is around to hear Yoongi say, "For our darling to fuck Hyejin."

"Good god," Namjoon mutters under his breath. You roll your eyes as he adds, "Absolutely, no objections here."

You grumble, "You two are incorrigible," under your breath.

"Ah, Namjoon-ah," Yoongi says as he pulls you closer to his side. His fingertips play with the hem of your dress just below your left breast. "I am afraid I will have to miss tomorrow's activities. Our darling has asked me to stay with her tonight."

Namjoon's smile falters for such a split moment that it is nearly imperceptible. "Ah. No worries, baby. Seokjin and I can handle everything. And, did you ask her about…"

He trails off, but you know what he is hinting at, and a pang of sadness stabs you directly in the gut. 

"I did," Yoongi responds with a sigh, "but she is not quite ready to return to Seoul."

Namjoon nods, taking in a deep breath. You nibble on your bottom lip searching for something to say to him, but nothing feels quite right. Promising for an uncertain future feels disingenuous, even if all you want in this moment is to give sweet Namjoon anything in this world he could want. 

"I'm sorry," is all you can bring yourself to say.

Namjoon shakes his head. His gaze is soft and slightly sad, but so loving. "Will you at least keep the jewelry? And the clothing?" His lips falter, and he glances down at his shoes. "I know they're just material things, but it felt so strange to see it all left behind. You didn't regret receiving any of it, did you?" 

You feel a horrible guilt as Namjoon's gaze lifts to meet yours. How you could have possibly made him think your gifts were not good enough—that you may have regretted them somehow—has you wishing you had never left anything behind. Shaking your head, you step forward, wrap your arms around Namjoon's ribs, and press your face against his chest, listening to his quick, worried heartbeat. 

"Nothing about that night went as planned," you say, squeezing him as tight as you can manage. Namjoon's arms lift and engulf you with warmth. "I'm so sorry I made you feel that way. I absolutely love the gifts, especially the jewelry."

You loosen the hug and take a step back, holding Namjoon's gaze. It is devastating how handsome he is with tears glistening in his eyes. 

"If I'm being honest…" you begin, taking a deep breath. "I left the items because I wasn't sure whether you two would be upset with me. After all, I snuck away. I thought…I suppose I thought I wouldn't be worthy of keeping what had been given to me, and so I left it all behind. I felt guilty at the thought of taking any of it, knowing what I would be doing to you."

Namjoon nods in understanding and then pulls you closer. Yoongi follows, sandwiching you between warm bodies that feel and smell like home. You breathe slow and deep, smiling through the exhaustion that engulfs you; you hate to admit that you will not last much longer on your feet. With the promise of visiting Jimin and the others at Paradise soon, you feel a little lighter; a little more willing to part for now. 

Bodies begin to file out as you and your family men crowd the bar for shots. Ryujin and her core group of girls join in, and you all toast and drink, one after another after another until your body is dizzy and heavy and begging to lie down. You hug the women good night, feeling eyes on you as Hwasa wraps her arms around you with a pout.  She takes a step back and whines that she will miss you tonight. When you turn to face the men, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jeongguk all wear curiously devious expressions. 

As you hug Jimin goodbye, he takes a step back to speak but then eyes your dress and boots, and his expression brightens. "Hold on," he says, "this is the outfit you were wearing the day we all met."

You smile widely and nod, impressed that someone has recognized the outfit. Yoongi steps forward and hums a questioning sound. 

"This outfit," Jimin says, "she was wearing it the first time we saw our buttercup."

Yoongi cocks his head to the side and frowns. "The first time?" he asks. 

A moment passes that is brief and confusing. The two share a glance, Jimin with his eyebrows raised, and then Yoongi clears his throat, licks his lips, and says, "Of course. Sorry, darling, the alcohol must have gone straight to my head. I remember now. You were so adorably angry in this dress."

You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to be an utter brat. "You forgot what I was wearing the day you spirited me away…not very chauvinistic of you."

Yoongi smiles and chuckles, but there is something in his thoughtful expression that makes you uncomfortable, especially with how Jimin is looking at him as if he has said something unforgivably wrong. That had been the first time they saw you…right? Paranoia rears its ugly head, and you do your best not to allow yourself to travel down roads you have no business visiting. Especially after how emotionally fraught this night has been. After all, Christian had been working for him, so perhaps Yoongi saw you in passing once or twice before. Anything is possible. 

As you continue to wish everyone a good night, it sinks in that you are soon returning to your life free of the men you love, and sadness settles deep within you. But first, you will spend a night with Yoongi in his penthouse on the ocean and you do your best to be in the present moment and not wallow in what is to come. 

Namjoon follows behind in his own car and joins the two of you for a glass of water and a soft, slow makeout session on the couch overlooking the dark sea. He treats you to several blissful orgasms using his skilled lips, teeth, and fingers, and you watch as he and Yoongi take turns cuming in each other's mouths after you regretfully whine that your holes are too sore to accommodate them anymore for the night.

Namjoon slips away with deep promises and soft kisses as you begin to fall fast asleep wrapped around Yoongi's body. You drift off thinking about how warm and solid he is; how your body slots beside his as if the two of you are built for one another. But there is a part of you that also wonders what outfit had been on Yoongi's mind when he was imagining the first time he ever saw you. Were you in that black dress or something else entirely? Had that time at the river been the first time he laid eyes on you, or were there other times? Secret times when you had no idea of his existence. How long might he have been watching you? Of course, you know this line of thinking is ridiculous, and you smile as you bury your nose into his skin and inhale the sweet, musky scent of him. 

You drift deeply, swiftly, remembering what home feels like.

*

i drive fast, wind in my hair i push it to the limit 'cause i just don't care

i've got a burning desire for you, baby

🎵 visit the playlist

❗❗❗ important authors note: as mentioned previously, i am basically condensing everything that was going to be a 20 chapter fic into the last two chapters and the next 6ish chapters. i think you will understand why i chose to do it this way. something to keep in mind: all major warnings are already listed. things in future chapters might seem really, really fucking bad. please trust the author and the tags and don't let me lose you on this ride because i am intentionally going to be vague and non-descript about certain plot points outside of the narrative. i don't like to give things away, which means we might become traumatized together. from this point on, the story is going to shift in a big way. i love you. thank you for reading.

happy new year, my dears! if you observed holidays, i hope they have been good. i hope you have a lovely lunar new year & eat the best foods! if you're on break from class, i hope you get a lot of rest. i got all As last semester, and i bet you also did an amazing job at whatever you got into. i miss you very, very much and i hope to be back soon. 💜

EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU IS THE WIND BENEATH MY WINGS!!! REBLOGS ARE IMPORTANT BLAHBLAHBLAH LIKES ARE ALSO AMAZING AND SO ON. 💜 tags will be coming in reblogs. also, character asks are always active if you have some burning questions or comments (just don't expect me to outright spoil anything hehehe.)

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Collateral is copyright 2022-2025 theharrowing, all rights reserved. no translations of reposts allowed.

[chaoticpuff17]

When The Chips Are down

masterlist

part 28

After the disaster that the wedding had been, Namjoon had rushed Y/N and Nara home where he proceeded to put the entire mansion on lock down. No one was to come in or go out that Namjoon had not explicitly approved to do so. He had become slightly paranoid, not that Y/N could blame him for that. She was a little paranoid herself after everything that had happened, and even if she had been one of the people approved to leave the estate, she didn’t think that she would have wanted to. She much preferred to be safe and sound behind the high walls of her cage where nothing could hurt her or her baby. Namjoon for all his faults was at least very good at making sure that nothing could touch them within the heart of his own territory.

While she’d managed to slip away from him before in the past, Namjoon had very much improved the security of his home after her multiple escape attempts and her several successes. He wasn’t taking any chances with the security of his family. The wedding had only hardened that resolve. Nothing was slipping past him this time.

His paranoia and drive to find out who exactly had sabotaged Hoseok and Iyla’s wedding kept him out of Y/N’s hair for the most part. He was a busy man to begin with, but with this he was like a dog with a bone. The staff of the estate likened it to when he was searching for her during what Miss In very politely referred to as her long absence only this time the goal wasn’t retrieval but retribution.

He knew full well that the Lee family had something to do with it all, but Y/N didn’t think he’d yet put together Mark’s involvement, and that was a piece of information that she was keeping closely guarded. While his willingness to put herself and her family in danger had been heartbreaking, she wasn’t willing to turn him over to Namjoon for it. She didn’t want him dead, and she knew that was exactly what Namjoon would do if he were to find out about him involvement. Y/N very much doubted that Hoseok would have a less severe reaction either. It was his wedding that had been ruined and his bride that had been put in danger.

Thankfully Iyla hadn’t been injured during the debacle. Hoseok has very quickly gotten her to safety before rejoining the fray. While deeply shaken by the incident, Iyla was physically unharmed by it. She and Hoseok had even gone on their honeymoon despite it all. The rest of the boys had insisted that they would take care of everything while Hoseok enjoyed the time away with his new wife though the thought of it didn’t sit well with Y/N. Nothing about the marriage had though, and she didn’t get a say when it came to whether or not they would stay or go.

Namjoon assured her that Iyla would be perfectly safe in Hoseok’s care, and Y/N didn’t doubt that there wouldn’t be another incident. It wasn’t Hoseok that had been the target at the wedding, but the idea of her baby sister on a honeymoon with a man she despised left a bitter taste in Y/N’s mouth even if she was grateful that it was Hoseok that had kept her sister safe during the shootout. She still wasn’t fond of him though. There was too much darkness that lingered behind the cheery persona. It also didn’t help his case that he was the reason that Iyla would never be free of Namjoon and his world.

Part of her held onto fantasy that if Hoseok had never taken a liking to her sister she would have been able to strike a deal with Namjoon for her freedom. She knew that she couldn’t broker such a deal for herself or her daughter, but Namjoon held no such attachment to her sister. Iyla was a convenient threat to hang over her head, but if her freedom could be used as a bargaining chip to get her to comply, Y/N had no doubt Namjoon would have taken full advantage of it if not for Hoseok’s involvement in it all. She was also certain that he would have demanded something just as substantial in exchange.

Unfortunately, that was not how anything had played out. Hoseok had taken a keen interest in her sister, and Namjoon was all too happy to approve the match. It had all be decided before she’d even been present to try to fight for her sister’s freedom. She could understand that in some ways Hoseok’s marriage to her protected Iyla from Namjoon. There was nothing extreme that he could do to her in an effort to control or punish Y/N while she was married to a man that he considered a brother. It would go against the great respect and affection that the seven men held for each other. As twisted as they were, they were a family in their own rights, and they protected each other and their own like family.

While there was nothing she could do to help her sister, there was plenty to keep her occupied within the confines of her own home though she was still loath to refer to the estate as such. Nara took up a good portion of her time, and Miss In had begun to explain a little more of the inner workings of how the house was run.

While Y/N didn’t manage any of it directly most things were still brought to her for approval. One of the maids had been proposed to by her fiancee and was leaving her position, and Y/N needed to look over the candidates for the opening all of which had already been strictly screened by Miss In. Did they want to add any new flowers and plants to the garden in the spring or would they be ordering the same annuals they always did? She looked over weekly menus provided by the chef. It all gave her a small sense of control even if it was an illusion. Miss In was still very much the one in charge of the household, but she was a kind woman who respected that this was technically Y/N’s home even if she didn’t want it to be, and a woman should have some say in the running of her own home.

Slowly the estate was beginning to feel more and more like her domain, not in its entirety but little pockets that she could call her own. They helped to keep her sane in the life that Namjoon had crafted for her. It also helped that everyone who worked within the estate, except for perhaps Namjoon’s goons who acted as security, didn’t treat her as a prisoner. She was treated respectfully and kindly as the lady of the house. It was a small mercy that helped to make her feel slightly more normal despite the abnormality of her situation.

This and many other thoughts ran through her head as she spent her afternoon in the kitchen. Nara was down for a nap, and her fingers had been itching to do something, and she had a craving cinnamon rolls. She didn’t often get cravings, but a couple times a year, the idea of a certain food would take hold, and eventually she would cave and make it. Cinnamon rolls had just happened to be the one to take hold this time, and they were easy enough to make and to share. She wouldn’t really want more than one, but there were plenty of people who came in and out of the house on a regular basis who could enjoy them.

She was just beginning to knead the dough when she felt an arm circle around her waist, her husband pressing himself up against her back and peering over her shoulder. No one else would have been so bold as to touch her like this.

“What are you making, jagiya?” He asked, looking curiously as the lump of dough on the counter, the staff choosing to ignore the pair knowing that Y/N wouldn’t let him get himself into too much trouble.

Namjoon rarely if ever ventured into the kitchen. She’d been informed by the staff there that once Namjoon had gone into the kitchen after the normal work day was done in the late hours of the night and attempted to fix himself some coffee and something to eat and had managed to set something on fire. Oak Soon, the woman in charge of the kitchen, had been terrified of allowing him any leeway in her kitchen ever since and someone was always on call in the late hours in case Namjoon or any other member of the family should need something. Because Namjoon’s presence was unwelcome there and hers was not, Y/N found herself spending little pockets of her free time there. Oak Soon was not opposed to her cooking and baking things for herself so long as she didn’t set anything on fire or injure herself, and after hearing of Namjoon’s kitchen disaster, she wasn’t too keen on letting him get into anything either.

“Cinnamon rolls.”

Namjoon hummed, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “Any particular reason?”

Y/N shrugged, reaching for the flower to sprinkle a little more over the sticky dough. “I had a craving.”

Namjoon chuckled a little at that. “You realize the staff would have happily made those for you.”

She shrugged again. “I know, but I wanted to do it myself. You’re back early.” Namjoon’s pursuit of the culprits of the wedding disaster had kept him out of the house more than not in recent days.

“I can’t miss my wife?”

“No.”

The word came out flat as she continued with her task, acting as though Namjoon weren’t hanging off her asking for her attention.

Namjoon sighed, releasing her and moving to stand beside her at the counter. “Taehyung kicked me out of the office.”

Y/N paused, looking at him incredulously from the corner of her eye. “He kicked you out? Of your own office?”

“He said I was getting on his nerves.”

“Ah.” She nodded, understanding perfectly why the younger man had sent him packing. “You’ve been micromanaging.”

Namjoon made a noise of protest. “I have not!”

“Then why did Taehyung kick you out?”

Namjoon stayed silent for a moment, pouting at being called out for his behavior. “I may have been micromanaging.” He admitted as she went back to kneading the dough. “It just doesn’t make sense. Lee had no reason to disrupt the wedding like that. He may not like us very much, but even he knows how stupid of a decision that was. Someone else had to have been involved for him to get himself entrenched in this. He wouldn’t have the spine otherwise.”

Y/N froze, hands resting on top of the log of dough. “Do you know who he was working with?” She asked softly, her breath caught in her throat as she waited to hear if Mark had been found out or not.

“Not yet, but we will.” Namjoon promised, a dark glint in his eye. She let out a shaky breath, causing Namjoon’s attention to snap back to her. “It’s alright, jagiya. We’ll find out who did this. Nothing is going to happen to you or Nara.” He promised, gently turning her to face him and completely misinterpreting the cause of her unease.

“I know. I know you won’t.” she agreed, refusing to meet his eye. He was always so perceptive, and she worried that he’d somehow figure out Mark’s involvement just by looking at her.

It was a ridiculous thought. There was no way that he would be able to tell just by looking at her, and if he had his suspicions she knew well enough that he wouldn’t be above asking her directly just as he had all that time ago when Jackson had been poking around and causing headaches for him as he’d been searching for her. She could only pray that Taehyung wouldn’t notice Mark on the CCTV footage from the venue, and that Mark was smart enough not to attend the ceremony itself and get himself caught in the video of the ceremony.

“You should let Mrs. Park finish this.” Namjoon fussed, already half convinced that she should go and rest. He’d been particularly mother hen-like since Nara’s birth, her own near death having scared him more than he would like to admit.

“I’m fine, Namjoon. I can make a batch of cinnamon rolls.” She huffed, brushing him off and returning to kneading. “Besides, these need to be set out to rise anyway and the first proving takes a while. The dough will need to sit. I’ll be done in a minute.”

“Jagi…” He began, using that infuriating placating tone that he used when he was trying to convince her to do things his way when she was set against it. “You’ve had a shock, a trauma.”

“Every day with you is traumatic.”

“Jagi.”

She bristled. “I don’t see what that has to do with cinnamon rolls, Namjoon.”

“You shouldn’t strain yourself.”

With an indignant little croak, she whirled back around to face him. “And what about the shock and trauma you went through? I don’t see anyone treating you as though you’re made of glass.”

“Jagiya,” He began again, his tone losing the placating tone and turning into something softer and more genuine. “Only one of us is used to that kind of violence.”

“ That’s a convenient excuse.”

“It’s my job to make sure that you’re both safe. It’s my job to make sure that no one moves against us.”

Y/N rolled her eyes with a huff noting that the staff who had been in the kitchen had all made a discreet exit to leave the pair to quarrel in peace.

“Jagi.” He growled out in warning, less than pleased by her flippant attitude.

“I’m not made of glass, Namjoon.” she turned back to her dough choosing to take her frustrations out on it rather than him. “I don’t need you to treat me like I am. Yes, what happened what traumatizing, but I don’t need you to save me from the strain of making cinnamon rolls. It’s a little excessive.”

“I… I know. I’m sorry, jagi.” The apology was unexpected, and she paused. “I-I’ve come too close to losing you too many times this year. I know you’re not made of glass. Your strength is one of the things I was so drawn to.” She stared at him blankly, unamused by his arguments. “I- I’m a little on edge after the past year. Please, jagi.”

“Stop being so overbearing and then we’ll talk.” she sniffed, placing the dough back in the bowl and covering it so that it could sit to rise.

“Overbearing!” He spluttered.

“Overbearing.” She repeated with a small nod. “Why do you think Taehyung kicked you out?”

“This is slander.”

“This is you being annoying.” She shot back as she moved to the sink to wash off the dough and flour sticking to her hands.

“You wound me, my love.”

“Stop being so traumatizing then. Just think of all the therapy we all need!” She called over her shoulder as she made her way out of the kitchen. “It’s going to cost you a fortune. We might even bankrupt you.”

“It’s safe to go in now.” She told Oak Soon who was nervously lingering outside of her kitchen much to the other woman’s relief. “Thank you again for letting me borrow some space in the kitchen.”

“Of course, buin.” Oak Soon nodded, watching with narrowed eyes as Namjoon followed his wife out of the kitchen. “You’re always welcome.”

Y/N gave her another smile and continued on into the house with Namjoon remaining close on her heels.

She’d only made it a few feet away from the kitchen before Namjoon caught her by the wrist, pulling her back to him.

“I would happily let you bankrupt me.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Namjoon. You never know. I might actually do it.”

He smiled roguishly at her, happy that she was herself enough to be joking with him.

“Everything I have is yours, and you are welcome to use it as you wish.”

Y/N gave him a quick once over, clearly skeptical about the truth of those words, and wrinkled her nose when she found him to be completely serious in his declaration.

“If you plan to keep your criminal empire intact, you might not want to be quite so generous.”

“Only for you, jagi.”

She hummed, smiling slightly though the expression was tight and a little strained. “That is your mistake to make, Namjoon.”

“What will you do while you wait for your cinnamon rolls to rise?”

The question startled her a little. She hadn’t been expecting for Namjoon to continue the conversation. He never really took an interest in her baking on the odd occasion that she did it.

“I suppose I’ll go read for a while. Nara was napping last I checked.”

Namjoon hummed in understanding. “Shall we read together, jagiya?”

Y/N’s brows scrunched together in disgruntlement. “If you want to. It’s your house, and no one is stopping you.”

“I know that, jagi.” he laughed. “I just want to know that if I want to spend time with you that you won’t disappear on me.”

“And if I don’t wan to spend time with you?” She asked, crossing her arms under her chest.

“Then that’s your decision, jagi. I gave you the piano room as a sanctuary for a reason, but I would like- I hope that you’d like to spend time with me to.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Namjoon-”

“I’m not asking for the world, jagiya. I just want to spend some time with my wife.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, marveling at how long it had gotten since he’d brought her home. The ends of it now hung a bit above her shoulders, and Namjoon was very pleased to see it getting longer again. The short hair had been cute in its own way, but he much preferred it with some length to it. He liked the feel of it running through his fingers. He liked the ability to tug on it when he had her in the throes of passion.

Namjoon had to shake the thought out of his head. She hadn’t wanted to be intimate in some time, not since before Nara’s birth, and even then it had been only a handful of times since her return to Korea. She’d shown no interest in giving into such passion anytime soon either. Besides, the doctor hadn’t given them the green light for such activities yet either, and Namjoon would simply have to wait until they got the go ahead from the doctor to start seducing his wife in ernest.

“I don’t think that’s too much to ask.” He added softly.

Y/N cleared her throat awkwardly, taking a step back. “I have to grab my book from the piano room.”

Namjoon smiled softly, stepping forward to close the distance between them again, greatly enjoying the way that her breath caught in her throat. “I’ll meet you in our room, jagiya.”

[numinousher]

PICTURE PERFECT ── bts.

SUMMARY: a look into your family dynamic

PAIRING: mafia/ceo!bts x chubby!reader

WARNING(S): just a small talk about birth

NOTE: im back againnn 😈 again, this is a drabble of my combined beings series (which you can in my masterlist hehe) but it can be read as a standalone don’t worry!

“Hmm, I have a question.”

“Y-yes sir.

Namjoon looked up from his notes to look at the worker presenting their ideas for the new project coming up. The poor worker was close to shaking out of nerves once their eyes met Namjoon’s serious ones, with the others on each side staring them down, too. They gulped.

“What—”

“Sir.”

Namjoon huffed and ignored his assistant that had barged into the meeting room with an overly excited expression. He waved him off.

“The product—”

“Sir.”

“What?” Namjoon snapped, now setting his glare on the man by the door. “I’m in a meeting.”

“It’s your wife,” the assistant said, hoping it would ease the tension in the room at the mention of you. It wasn’t any help, though, because every worker there knew how important you were to them so if it were bad news, everyone there would be fired on the spot. “She’s at the hospital.”

“The baby?” Jimin asked, already standing up.

The assistant nodded. “Her water broke. Said, and I quote, to get your asses there.”

Jungkook would’ve laughed at your words if it weren’t for the fact you were going to give birth. So, he and the others dismissed the meeting almost immediately, ignoring the way some workers shoulders slumped with relief at the fact they wouldn’t be in a room with their bosses giving them such intimidating looks.

“Did they check her in with the best room?” Namjoon asked, grabbing his phone to call those who knew you. He glanced at his assistant next to him while he heard the call ring.

His assistant nodded. “Yes, her bodyguards are just waiting for you and are making sure the doctors and nurses take care of her.”

“Send an email to everyone that they can go home early,” Jimin spoke up, buttoning up his blazer to speed walk beside the other 6 who were basically running to get to the car. “Also, add in that there’s going to be 2 weeks where we won’t meet up in person. We’re going to be home to take care of our wife, everything will be online and work will be emailed.”

“Yes, sir.”

A car was already awaiting the 7 by the front of the building, which was why there were some reporters already by the front. It was very uncommon for them to be in such hurry, so while the workers were talking about it online, reporters heard and were already there to record everything—much to Jungkook’s surprise.

“Are they just waiting in their cars?” Jungkook breathed out, slamming the door shut, eyeing the small little circle of people. “It’s literally been, like, 5 minutes.”

“Make sure to have the others in the hospital stop anyone from trespassing,” Namjoon instructed. He leaned back with a leg of his going up and down, waiting for Ari pick up. He sighed in relief at hearing her answer. “Hey, how’s she doing?”

Ari, your best friend and the person who was going to be hanging out with you, winced at hearing your pained grunts. “She’s in pain right now, but she wants you guys here. She’s still not dilated enough so you have time.”

“Can she talk?”

“Let me ask.” Ari turned to face you. “Hey, hon, Namjoon’s asking if you want to talk. They’re on their way.”

You nodded and inhaled, making a hand gesture for her to pass you the phone. She did so and held your hand while you talked to your husband. “Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Namjoon softly spoke to you like he always did. It was very shocking to see this big man with a stoic expression and a rough voice transform into a big softy when it came to you. “We’re already on our way.”

“Please hurry,” you winced out. “Baby is really desperate to meet you guys.”

“I know, baby, and you’re doing so great,” Namjoon continued to praise you. “So, so great, okay? I’m so proud of you and we’re all proud of you.”

“Thank you.”

“Okay, we’re here. We’ll see you. I love you.”

“I love you.”

Running into the building, the staff there all became panicked at seeing the 7 men everyone there knew of. They knew them as something else considering the fact they were in charge of the territory the hospital was in.

“Our wife, Y/n L/n is supposed to be here. Where is she?”

“She’s—”

“Get the hell out of here,” Taehyung turned his head at hearing a slight deep voice yell back. He squinted his eyes, looking around, before coming to find a bodyguard of theirs pushing away a man and a woman. “Have some respect.”

“We want to get an exclusive interview with her before the baby comes,” the woman scoffed out, swatting away the bodyguard’s hands. “It is confirmed, though, that she is in labor.”

At feeling agitated, the bodyguard pinched the bridge of his nose before making eye contact with Taehyung’s burning stare while the others went to your room not so far from the chaos.

“Boss,” the bodyguard bowed his head, mentally feeling relief at knowing he wouldn’t have to deal with the two. “These two idiots told the doctors they were family. When they were denied, they tried sneaking into the missus’ room. Me and some others were by the door so we got them before they could interrupt her.”

Taehyung stepped closer, glaring down the two people in front of him who looked into his eyes with such horror.

“My wife is in labor and the first thing you think of is interviewing her?” Taehyung questioned in a low voice, getting closer to their faces. He scoffed. “Is that how boring your life is? Do you have nothing better to do? Get the hell out of my face. You are never to get close to my wife and child ever again.”

He didn’t have to look at his guard to let them know to kick them out. He hurried to the room where you were at and went to sit next to you.

“You’re doing such a good job, pretty. Such a good job.”

“Thank you, Tae.”

“I want the best for her, you hear me?” Namjoon mumbled out loud to the doctor as the two came into the room.

The doctor nodded, not phased by the seriousness in Namjoon’s voice. She was used to his comments and even threats once it came to your safety, so she just got used to it. After all, the money she got was crazy, too.

“Hi, Y/n,” she smiled at you. “Are you ready?”

“No…”

“You’ll do good!”

“We told you to money isn’t an issue here. You don’t need to work. We told you this when you wanted to work remotely.”

Namjoon said as he looked at you with your 2-year-old son, Jaehyung, in his arms. The boy was growing more and more that Namjoon had to hold him up with two of his arms.

“I feel holed up in this place sometimes,” you groaned out before looking at him. “I am not opposed to staying home, though, so if I don’t like working in person, then I’ll stay home to take care of our pretty baby and continue doing work online.”

You cooed at your son with a bright smile. Your smile widened as you heard his giggles because, very much like his dads, he loved having your attention on him. It didn’t help he received their protectiveness and glared at people who even glanced at you rather comically. It was funny every single time, you couldn’t help but laugh when you caught his little scrunched nose and frown.

“Yeah, maybe you can stay home while we get you pregnant and hope for a girl this time,” Jimin commented as he passed by, a small smirk plastered on his lips.

You scoffed.

“He’s kidding, pretty girl,” Taehyung murmured from behind you, kissing your neck. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Before you 7 try to get on my pants,” you started, backing away from Taehyung towards the front door, “I am leaving.”

“Your guards are coming with you!” Namjoon yelled before you closed the door. “We have new workers and they don’t know who you are.”

“Okay, okay, bye, I love you!”

You threw them a kiss behind you, waving at your baby one more last time, and closed the door.

As soon as the door closed, your baby’s smile was wiped away, almost like he knew you were leaving him for hours. He loved his dads, yes, but they could never compare to you since you carried him for 9 months, birthed him, fed him, and took care of him almost every day for majority of the day until all 7 men came back from work and he was carried in their arms.

“Namjoon, he looks like he’s going to cry,” Jungkook muttered as he came into the room. He frowned at seeing his baby’s face. “Oh, my sweet boy, what’s wrong huh?”

He grabbed Jaehyun and mimicked the same pout the kid had on his face.

With teary-eyed eyes, Jaehyun gestured to the door. “Mama leave…”

“My heart,” Jungkook started as he looked at his son, eyeing the mole by his nose to his flushed cheeks, “Mama is coming home soon, okay?”

As if understanding him, Jaehyun sucked in his bottom lip. It began to quiver and his little hands formed into fists.

“Uh-oh,” Jimin simply said, knowing those actions too well.

Jaehyun began sobbing and crying so loud it echoed in the room. The maids who were in the same room as them jumped, clearly startled by the sudden high pitched noise.

“Oh, no, no, baby,” Jungkook softly gasped. He placed his son’s head back to his chest, moving him. “Sh, sh, sh. Mama will come home soon, right?”

Jungkook’s eyes met Jimin, Namjoon, and Taehyung’s own for help. He was used to the tantrums, whatever. After all, Jaehyun was going through his terrible two’s, and he was a runner. He loved running and because of that, he usually ends up falling. It causes a lot of crying.

“You want ice cream, Jae?” Namjoon asked, leaning down to the boy’s eyesight. At the mention of ice cream, Jaehyun slowly nodded, a “yes, please” coming out of his mouth. “Good boy. Come on, we’ll walk to the kitchen and we can even put sprinkles and whipped cream okay?”

Jungkook placed Jaehyun back on the floor, fixing his little shirt, and let Namjoon grab his hand to lead him towards the kitchen.

Jaehyun waved at some maids and guards as Namjoon opened the kitchen door, and Namjoon couldn’t help but smile once the workers would coo at how nice and cute he was.

The personal chef was in the kitchen cooking up some food when he noticed Namjoon. He bowed his head.

“Sir.” He looked down and saw Jaehyun. He smiled and bowed his head again. “Sir.”

“Me Jae,” Jaehyun said, pointing to himself. Namjoon chuckled and helped him get on the chair on the kitchen island.

“Sorry,” the chef chuckled before bowing his head again. “Jae.”

“He would like some ice cream,” Namjoon said, sitting down next to Jaehyun on the chair next to him. “What do you say, Jae?”

Jaehyun blinked. “You!”

Namjoon chuckled and shook his head. “No, what do you say when you want something, bud?” More blinks. He couldn’t help but let out a small snort. “Just give us some chocolate ice cream with whipped cream and sprinkles. I’m trying to make him feel better because Y/n went to work today.”

“Oh, that explains the tears,” the chef commented before he quickly served the 2-year-old his dessert. “Here you go, bud. Your mom will come home.”

Jae sniffed and nodded, grabbing his bowl of ice cream. He licked the whipped cream and sprinkles off first before his spoon swirled the ice cream around until it turned to liquid.

The chef looked at him with confusion.

“Don’t question it,” Namjoon sighed. He propped his chin in the palm of his hand, staring down at his child. He could see whose kid it was and it was beautiful. “If you behave, maybe we’ll visit Mom at work.”

“We can go?” Jae asked.

Namjoon was happy to know that in a few years, he could actually converse with them in full sentences without getting distracted. He was so smart already he could form well sentences but, he was still a child.

Namjoon nodded. “I’ll text her, okay? If she says no, we’ll bake her some cookies for when she comes home. If she says yes, then we’ll go, okay?”

Jae enthusiastically nodded.

Namjoon could only stare. This was really your guys’ child, and you guys were raising him so well that Namjoon was proud when the 2-year-old wiped his mouth away with a napkin. He was mimicking your actions.

He was close to clutching his heart.

Through the fondness he felt for your baby, Namjoon texted you 3 hours later to let you get used to your surroundings again.

husband (joon) 😚: how’s work?

pretty wife ❤️: honey i wanna leave, the amount of stares i have gotten omg and yeah ari and eunji make it great

pretty wife ❤️: but i miss jaehyun ☹️

pretty wife ❤️: i miss my babyyyy (and you guys)

husband (joon) 😚: you want us to visit you? we’ll go home shortly after

pretty wife ❤️: pls 🫶🏼 i loved working and i still love my job, but it feels wrong coming back like nothing when my job position could go to someone else and idkkk i love being able to work from home, just not in person

husband (joon) 😚: then we’ll keep things the way they are pretty <33 we’re on our way

You smile at Namjoon’s message. Your online job wasn’t the one you had in person, it was more of making sure the money of products was either increasing and decreasing and coming up with plans. It was something you’d like to do while staying at home, being a mom, and being completely spoiled by 7 men who loved you wholeheartedly.

You also couldn’t help but feel like an outcast. No one on the floor knew who you were. Eunji and Ari, your best friends, knew and of course, they were excited to see you once they came to find you sitting on the seat that has been empty since you left but, other than that, no one knew who you were. It was nice at first—nobody knowing who you were married to—until the usual small snide comments started. They all assumed you slept with someone to get the job so easily and they assumed the worst because it was hard getting a job there. If only they knew.

“Mr. Kim.”

You perked up at the choruses that came from everyone. The person beside you (that wasn’t Ari), softly nudged you to bow your head. You stayed put.

You smiled as Namjoon, next to all of the boys, was holding your son’s hand tightly, knowing that if he spotted you, he would run off almost immediately.

You packed your things and stood up, looking down at Ari, who was on your left side. “I’m leaving.”

“Aw,” she pouted as she knew what you meant. “I’ll come visit you with Eunji tomorrow once we get out of work.”

You nodded. “Tell Eunji I’ll text her. I feel bad leaving without saying goodbye.”

“She has a meeting it’s not your fault,” Ari said with a chuckle before standing up with you and heading towards the boys.

Everyone looked at you two with confusion, not knowing why you’d even have the confidence, much the balls, to head to them. All 7 men were so scary and intimidating. Though they’re not intimidating and scary as they used to be before they met you, they were still scary.

“Mama!” Jae exclaimed once he saw you. He ran over to you, hugging your legs. “I miss you.”

“Aw, and I missed you, my sweet boy,” you pout down at him before carrying him. He nuzzled his cheek against yours, holding the other cheek with his small hand.

He glanced at Ari.

“Hi, Aun’ Ari.”

“Hi, honey,” she said with a tilt of her head to look at him. She wiggled her fingers as a wave, smiling as he waved back, mimicking her. She turned to look at your 7 husbands. “Here to steal my wife?”

Jungkook gave her a hardened look. “Don’t even start, Ari. Our marriage with her is on paper. Yours is in your head.”

“Whatever.”

You smile as Yoongi leads you towards the elevator while Jae waves “goodbye” to Ari and any worker he made eye contact with.

The workers, having been watching your every move, were shocked to see the 7 men and their bodyguards surround you and the kid, almost as if they were guarding you from any potential threats. Even your baby for God’s sake was looking around, mimicking his dad’s.

Oh, shit, they all realized simultaneously. You’re the wife everyone knew of and heard of.

“Good day, Mama?” Jaehyun asked.

You looked at your baby and then at the others who raised their eyebrows in question. They wanted to know, too. You immediately smiled because you knew if they found out half of them were making up rumors or assumptions, they’d all be gone by tomorrow either fired or dead. Never in between.

“Very good day,” you easily lied through your teeth.

Believing you, Jaehyun smiled, going back to placing his head on your neck. Though, he perked up when a bodyguard placed his hand on the arm you had around his back.

“Hey, ‘eave her,” Jae said with a frown, slapping the guard’s hand away. “Daddy, kill him.”

You softly gasped at his words and looked at your husbands.

“I’m sorry,” you looked at the bodyguard. You turned to eye your son. “Who taught you that, huh?”

“Daddies.”

“He’s lying!”

“He’s a snitch, oh my, God…”

[yoonmetogether]

Not In the Cards Masterlist

pairing: bodyguard!Yoongi x CEO!fem reader

genre: mafia, e2l, sloooow burn, age gap

summary: As the youngest daughter of the most powerful family in the country’s crime syndicate, you never thought you would be forced to takeover your father’s money-laundering casino. Due to unforeseen circumstances, you and your brother, Jungkook, are left in charge to carry on with business. But in the absence of your father and oldest brother, Seokjin, the two of you are targets of rival bloodthirsty mobs desperate for power and turf. You must be protected but the man who’s assigned as your bodyguard is someone you never thought you would see again. This wasn’t in the cards.

warnings: violence and murder (not explicit), one incident of partner abuse, guns, drugs, alcohol, smoking, gambling, smut (eventually), ANGST!!! So much angst, trauma, PTSD, character death

Snippet

Prologue - 6.7k

Ch. 1: play nice - 19k

Prelude: strangers pt. 1 of 3 - 10.2k

Prelude: strangers pt. 2 of 3 - 12.1k Ch. 2: ... - pending

[btsydtrash]

Ego [9]

mafia bts x stripper yn; hybrid universe

Everyone had heard of the Dirty7s, even distantly. Nobody could put names or faces to the members, but the name was enough to strike fear into the hearts of civilians, criminals, and law enforcement alike. They’re known to be methodical, impenetrable, and most of all, merciless. Nobody wants to cross any of them. Lest of all you - a college student stripping to pay her debts.

What happens when you fall into their web of deceit and lies?

What happens when you find that you don’t want to escape, even when you know you should?

Masterlist  /  i don’t have a tag list  /  find me on twitter  /  word count: 1.8k

AN: Here we go again! crime syndicate BTS X stripper yn. I’ll post this on AO3 too. Some of BTS are humans, some are hybrids. They all are obsessed with Reader. Reader is black in my headcanon.

(yandere / angst / gore / fluff / smut / violence / none )

trigger warnings: hey.... I'm back! yn is depressed. she's suffering a lot but she's not alone. nothing of significance. just needed to get this out after so long. I'll be back soon with more drama!

“Breaking News: The body of an African-American Beta hybrid was found dismembered and abandoned under a bridge in East Point. East Point is known for its houseless and opiate-dependent population. Many new strains of synthetic drugs are being released onto the streets, made accessible to vulnerable, unmated Omegas. Markings found on the body indicate the involvement of a gang widely known as the Dirty7s. The Dirty7s are an anonymous group with links to…”

The TV drones on in the background but you don’t hear it. Well, you can’t hear it. You hadn’t been paying much attention to anything for the last few days. How many? You’ve got no idea. It’s been enough for your hair to start smelling bad anyway.

You walk out of the bathroom, dropping the towel as you go, grabbing the big t-shirt with Thandi’s face on it and pulling it on. You had gotten a couple from the funeral from Thandi’s mom. She had made them, gotten them pressed at a local tailor’s place to raise some money for the funeral. You knew how expensive it was to die. Flashes of your mothers face fly in front of your eyes before you can stop it and they make you wince. You tried to pay but Thandi’s mom had refused your money. “My Thandi told me all about you,” she had said, holding your hand so tightly it almost hurt, but you didn’t complain. In fact, the sting-burn sensation grounded you, and you felt yourself get lost in her deep, knowledgable eyes. She might have just lost her daughter, but it seems as if she had already experienced a lifetime’s worth of pain. It made you ache. “You… You were her friend. She loved you so much.”

And then you felt it again, the guilt-driven nausea.

It was the first time you met her mom, but you knew all about her daughter, Sana. The young girl, only eight years old, stood solitarily, as the preacher droned on and on about ‘eternal bliss’ and ‘blessed memories’ and ‘living on in memory’. The expression on her face, you knew it so well. It was as if nothing was making sense to her mind. She was so sad, so lost, so lonely. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her throughout the funeral. She looked around at all of the people at her mother’s funeral, curious yet careful, quiet and withdrawn, before turning her eyes to the coffin at the front of the church and biting down on her bottom lip. She didn’t make a sound, not a peep - the whole time.

They opted for a closed casket because well… What other option was there? The truth of Thandi’s death wasn’t lost on the participants of her funeral but it was bad manners to bring it up. The thought alone was enough to bring bile to your throat so fast, it made your head spin. You rush to the bathroom and spit up in the toilet. Just a little bit this time, thankfully. You swill your mouth out and walk to grab something from the refrigerator. It took you days to realize that someone had come into your apartment while you had been at the funeral and had fixed certain things.

The fridge had been filled. The pile of dishes washed. The laundry had been taken and washed and returned all clean and folded. The bed had been spread. The rug had been moved around and vacuumed. The bathroom had been straightened out.

Once you had come to your senses, you burst into grateful tears.

You knew who it was.

He had left a t-shirt of his, saturated in his scent and so big it drowned your body in material, in your closet for you to sleep in.

You take a glance at the t-shirt again, wrapped around a big pillow on your bed, and you sigh, getting into bed once more, hair still damp at the roots of your head. 

Your phone lay on the table beside your bed, silent but charging, and you take a second to look at it before you grab it and make a call.

It doesn’t ring but for two times before you hear his voice on the other end of the line.

“Hello, YN,” Jungkook says, quietly.

You don’t answer. You can’t find your mouth, you can’t feel it well. Your tongue feels fuzzy and heavy, like a weight is sitting on it.

“YN…?”

Jungkook pauses slightly before the sound of him shifting his weight comes through the receiver.

He asks, softly, “Do you need me?”

You are still quiet, but you let out a light sigh through your nose. It’s the loudest you’ve been in days.

No. I don’t need anyone, you want to say. But again, more silence. Your tongue is too heavy. Your stomach is rolling and your head feels all loopy. You can't imagine where all these good hormones are coming from, flooding your system with flickers of light and ease and warmth and syrupy goodness.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” he murmurs, gently. “I’ll stay on the phone as long as you need.”

Another sigh.

He takes a moment to think before he says, a certain chipperness in his tone, “Shall I tell you about my day, Pretty?”

A final sigh, and you turn over to your side, phone pressed to your cheek. If you were more present in your body, it probably would hurt.

Jungkook sounds as if he reclines in his seat as he begins telling you all about his day.

“It’s been mostly boring. I woke up at 5:30. I went to the gym for a couple of hours. I boxed and ran and did some weights. I think I could press three of you, you know, Pretty? You're so little compared to me. Sorry. I got distracted. Then, I showered and ate breakfast with Tae. You haven’t met him yet, right? I think you’d like him. A lot. Anyway. After, I met Jimin for some work-related stuff. Very boring. Do you want me to tell you about it, Pretty?”

He doesn’t let you get a sigh out before he continues.

“I didn’t think so. Then, after hours of back and forth, I went to go pick up my suit. We have a fancy dinner to go to this weekend. It’s Jin-hyung’s birthday.”

His voice gets all syrupy and warm, and it twists and rolls in your stomach all hot and uncomfortable. Why does his happiness make you feel so bothered?

“-and after we finish at DeMaggio’s, Joonie-hyung says we’re going on a helicopter ride around the city. Would you like to do that one day? Should I invite you? I can do that, you know. I don’t think Hyung would mind.”

The thought alone makes you snort.

He pauses and then, when he talks again, his voice seems relieved.

“You laughed, Pretty.”

You blink, somewhat surprised. He wasn’t lying. You did laugh, breathy and weak as it was.

“Pretty, you know I miss you so much, right?”

You close your eyes tightly at his words, lip getting sucked between your teeth.

He takes a moment to ask, quietly, almost needy, “Do you miss me?”

Your throat gets all tight and thick, and you feel horrible all over again. He hears you choke on something, because his voice gets all flighty, worried and concerned over the phone, as he peppers you with soft words.

“You don’t have to say it.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Please, don’t cry.”

“You’re breaking my heart.”

And then, he pauses and says the one thing you both craved and dreaded to hear.

“She wouldn’t want you to be this angry with yourself,” he says. Then, with more confidence, he claims, “You’re allowed to be happy.”

You cut off the phone before the sobs take over once more.

////

Jungkook taps the edge of his phone on the table a few times before he curses to himself. The wolf glances up from his spot in the corner of Yoongi’s office and asks, “You think I pushed her too much?”

 Yoongi looks over the top of his book and remarks, “It isn’t the end of the world, Kookie. Relax. You did a good job with the cleaner. She probably is sleeping next to the t-shirt you gave her and she called you, of all people she could’ve called.”

Jungkook bites his bottom lip and admits, “I’m getting frustrated.”

Yoongi pushes, lightly, “With?”

He puts the book to the side, knowing full well that he wasn’t getting any more ‘him-time’ while the wolf was occupying his personal office in their home. He loved each of his brothers dearly, however… Fuck, he needed his own place sometimes.

“Being patient,” the wolf explains, glibly. “It’s all so fucking boring.”

“Then occupy yourself with things that matter,” Yoongi suggests, moving to his feet. “I think Tae might be done with the guy downstairs, if you want a turn to pummel something moving?”

“The fucker’s still alive? Tae’s losing his touch,” Jungkook remarks, amusedly. He wasn’t lying. Usually, Tae would have had him chopped into tiny pieces and thrown into a river or incinerated. Jungkook wonders why he’s taking his time.

Yoongi snorts, pushing his glasses into his hair. He only needs them when his eyes start to get dry, like now. He usually didn’t use his other form, preferring to be in his natural hybrid state when in the comfort of their own home, but he’s been testing his personal limits recently, worried that he might freak YN out with his skin, his eyes, his tongue… She was prey, at the end of the day. He probably should have the lights off but he doesn’t want to ruin the mood. “Not even. Jin won’t let him die. He keeps zapping him with the AFIB machine. I heard he shitted himself.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have been fucking around, pretending to be something he’s not,” Jungkook replies, an annoyed look passing over his face. The younger of the two moves to his feet and he asks, “Say, hyung.” His tone of voice catches Yoongi’s attention, so he sits up a little more in his comfy office chair, eye brow quirking so as to prompt the wolf to continue speaking. “Do you think YN will actually come to understand us?”

Yoongi pauses to mull over his answer for a few seconds before he answers, honestly, "I don’t think she has a choice.”

Jungkook acknowledges his answer with a melancholy look on his face.

Then, he glances down at his Rolex and makes a small noise of glee. “I’ve got a spare hour. I think Tae might be a little fatigued.”

Yoongi snorts before reaching back for the book. His eyes are getting awfully dry. Suddenly, the lights flick off and Jungkook glances back from his spot at the door, a narrow line of yellowed light slightly warming the room.

“Hyung, you know I always know, right?”

Yoongi scoffs. “Get the fuck out of here, pup.”

Jungkook closes the door and Yoongi finally switches back to his natural form, eyes narrowing into slits and he reaches for his book once more, settling comfortably into his chair.

It just started getting good, too.

- end - 

Schemer (1), Abstentious (2), Thievery (3), Melancholy (4), Writhing (5), Lusting (6), Non-negotiable (7), Cutting the cord (8), Nevertheless (9)