Mr.

Min
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/10170536.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/M
Fandom: | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Relationship: Min Yoongi | Suga & Original Female Character(s), Jeon
Jungkook/Original Female Character(s)
Character: Min Yoongi | Suga, Jeon Jungkook, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope
Additional Tags: Smut, Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Breathplay, Alternate
Universe, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drama, Blackmail,
Cumplay, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Power Play
Stats: Published: 2017-03-08 Updated: 2018-10-16 Chapters: 10/? Words:
169934

Mr. Min
by ellieljade

Summary

Your CEO caught your attention the first day you started your new job and it seems the
attraction is mutual. Too bad he’s only interested in a relationship that benefits him.
 Prologue
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The day you started at your new job you had noticed Min Yoongi as he floated around the floor your
company held in a large building. You had assumed that a CEO was required to be a podgy, red
cheeked, middle aged man, probably with as many kids as he had mistresses, but you were shocked
to find that your new boss wasn’t that much older than you. He wore tailored suits like you imagined
all CEOs did but his hair was dyed a platinum blonde, he kept a few basketball trophies on the
shelves of the bookcase that lined one wall in his office, and occasionally rap music could be heard
coming from behind his closed door if an important deadline was approaching. You had been
intrigued by him and the way he defied every expectation that you held from the first moment you
had seen him. It wasn’t long before you noticed that he seemed to be intrigued by you as well.

The first day that you caught his eyes on your cleavage you wrote it off as an accident or even you
simply misreading the situation. The second time that you found him staring at your exposed chest
was as you leaned over a coworkers desk. He had met your eyes and, instead of sheepishly turning
away like most men did, one end of his mouth pulled into a lopsided smile before he turned and
walked away. After that you purposefully wore trousers that were sinfully tight, blouses with one too
many buttons undone, and skirts that only barely covered the straps of your garter belt.

You were surprised to see how much you enjoyed his attention. It was almost as if you purposefully
sought it. When a coworker quit and his desk opened up you jumped at the chance to seize it and
you told yourself it had nothing to do with being closer to Mr. Min. You repeated in your head, as if
it was a mantra, that the fact that your new desk was positioned right outside the window wall of Mr.
Min’s office was just a coincidence. When your coworkers asked why you would ever give up your
original spot by the picture window overlooking a beautiful park you merely shrugged your
shoulders and spouted out some half assed excuse about the sunlight giving you headaches.

Sure enough your encounters happened more often at your new desk. Anytime Mr. Min left his
office your eyes would meet and his almost always drifted south to take in your cleavage or the way
your skirt exposed the lace top of your stockings before he would meet your gaze again with a coy
smirk. Your cheeks would heat as you watched his back retreat from sight and while your stomach
tightened with desire and need you would smugly leave another tally mark in secret.

You kept a post-it note in the back of your desk drawer and left a tally mark every time you caught
him staring at your exposed skin. Some marks had stars above them. Those were the times he had
caught you watching him as he leered at you only for him to smugly acknowledge it and move on
without an apology or an explanation.

Armed with a post-it note with close to fifty tally marks on it you slinked into his office wearing your
usual revealing outfit. He only briefly glanced at you when you entered the room but said nothing
until you had leaned over his desk, your cleavage exposed in front of his face thanks to your low cut
blouse. “Do you mind,” he asked in a gruff voice and pointed his pen in between your breasts. His
eyes were glued to them and the flash in his dark orbs sent a wave of heat rolling through you. “Your
breasts are distracting me.”

Most bosses would not have been so straightforward for fear of being charged with sexual
harassment since that is exactly what it was. His boldness only slightly surprised you but you
maintained your demeanor and slammed the post-it note to his mouth with a smug smile. That
brought his eyes to yours and the flash in them had turned into a fiery glint. He pulled the sticky note
off his mouth with his slender fingers but didn’t take his eyes away from you, he merely held it next
to his face with a raised eyebrow as he wordlessly demanded an explanation.

“That is a count of every time you have checked me out at work,” you said without backing down
from his stare.

“Oh? You kept count,” he mused with a slight curl to his lips. He looked at the note briefly and
crumbled it up before he returned his dark gaze to you, the curl of his lips now stretched into a
lopsided smile. “It seems you missed a few. I thought I had made it more obvious than that. You
must not be that observant.” His tone was cold, detached, and emotionless.

You weren’t sure whether you should be offended or not but you absolutely knew that his attitude
was causing your lower stomach to tighten. “You really shouldn’t be leering after your employees
like that,” you scolded with no intention of admonishing him. You hadn’t moved since he started
talking to you, your hands still gripped the edge of the wooden desk opposite of where Mr. Min sat
and, if anything, you had leaned in closer to him to expose more of your cleavage.

“If certain employees dressed like an office worker and not a slut with a costume from a sex shop
then maybe I wouldn’t be tempted.” His voice and his words were like acid. His gaze didn’t falter as
he spoke and he rolled his pen between his thumb and forefinger as if the conversation bored him.

You could tell he was watching you closely, looking for any weakness you would expose, and
though you tried to fight it you felt your cheeks heat under his stare. “My point, Mr. Min--.”

“Sir,” he corrected and leaned back in his leather seat, the lopsided grin still stretched across his lips.
“You,” he continued and you were certain he had placed an emphasis on the word, “can call me sir.”

Before you could stop yourself one corner of your mouth curled and you bit the inside of your cheek
to keep from whimpering at his words because you were sure everything that had been said since
you entered his office was grounds for a sexual harassment suit but he didn’t seem worried about it at
all. “My point, sir,” you said the last word with emphasis and darted your tongue against your lips,
“is if you intend to lust after an innocent employee who is only trying to do her job then you should
take said employee on a date first.”

He cocked his head slightly and a soft chuckle graced his lips. “No thanks.”

Your eyes widened in a sudden panic. Had you completely misread the entire situation? Was he not
hitting on you all those times he had obviously leered? If you had then he would likely fire you for
harassing him or causing mischief at work. “What,” you croaked.

His smug grin deepened with his amusement at your obvious panic. “I don’t date and I’m not
interested in taking you on one.” His voice was resolute and bored, though his smirk said otherwise.

“Oh.” Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red but it had nothing to do with the now almost
nonexistent heat in your body. You pulled away from his desk and nervously smoothed your entirely
too short skirt further down your legs to try and make up for your mistake. “I’m sorry,” you
muttered.

“Stop,” he said and his voice was gruff again. Your hands stopped moving at once and your eyes,
blown wide with fear, met his dark stare. The smirk was gone from his face and his eyes fell from
your face down to your thighs and back again. He took in every part of you that wasn’t hidden by
his desk, he allowed his eyes to travel over you slowly, as if he was examining you. “I said I didn’t
want to date you. I said nothing about fucking you.”
 Your breath hitched in your throat. The shameless game was back on? “What,” you asked in a weak
voice that completely humiliated you.

“You think I’m not going to fuck the whore that sits outside my office and tempts me day in and day
out?” He paused and you weren’t entirely sure if he was waiting for your response because you had
none. His voice, his disinterested and cold demeanor, his words, all of it warmed your body back to a
fire that threatened to explode. “So here’s how it is going to work. I will have your number, you will
not have mine. You will never speak to me at work about anything not related to your job unless I
instigate it. You will never mention this to anyone. And, most importantly, you will answer all of my
texts and phone calls and do exactly as I say, when I say it. No questions asked. Does that sound like
something you would be interested in?”

It sounded an awful lot like an unfair deal meant solely to benefit him but you heard yourself speak
before you had even consciously made a decision. “Yes,” you said in a whisper that was a far cry
from the brazen way you had come into the office intent on a date with the young CEO.

“Yes what,” he asked and it was all command masked as a question.

You paused and tried to form an answer as you pulled at words in your mind, desperate for the right
combination. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he said with a satisfied sigh and cocked his head to the side as his eyes roamed over you
again. “This is going to be fun.”

Chapter End Notes

Originally posted on Tumblr by ellieljade as Prologue

 Chapter 01
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

From: unknown number 8:23 AM

Meet me in the parking garage. 20 minutes.

His text had not contained any more details than that and you chastised him in your head for his
vague but demanding messages. Not that he would care what you thought about them anyway. Your
bare legs burned in the cold air of the underground parking garage, your skirt did little to fight off the
frigid air, yet you stood patiently by the elevator. People walked past you, some you knew, some
were strangers, but they all looked at you with confused expressions and you knew what they were
thinking, “why the hell are you just standing there?”

A black car rounded the corner and drove towards you. It’s exterior was clearly waxed to perfection
if the crisp reflection of the parking garage’s lights were anything to go by. You could see him sitting
in the front seat as the lights strode across his face. His blonde hair seemed especially bright as the
lights fell on it and you wondered if he had freshly bleached it. The anticipation of what you
assumed was going to happen heated your chest and rolled down to your lower stomach where it
pooled in a needy knot. The car slowed as it came closer to you but, just as you were about to take a
step towards him, you saw the receptionist of the building wave to you. You waved and rocked back
onto flat feet as he rounded the corner in front of you slowly and proceeded down the next aisle
without so much as a glance your way. You would have appreciated if he had acknowledged you in
some way with how cold your legs were from waiting for him patiently but you were at least grateful
he had recognized that someone was watching and that it wasn’t safe to stop.

“What are you doing out in the cold,” the receptionist asked and her voice grated on you. She was
elderly, her gray hair pinned into a neat bun on the top of her head, and though her lips were thin and
lifeless you knew they managed to spread most of the gossip in the building just fine despite her age.
She was privy to everyone that entered or exited the building and used that knowledge to start
rumors constantly, some true, some false, but in the end they all tied back to her. She would have
surely enjoyed spreading the news that you were fucking the CEO of the company, Min Yoongi,
and had been for three months. It would have only made the information juicier to know that you
didn’t even have the decency to date him, not that that was your choice. You merely showed up at
his beck and call to service him before you disappeared into the endless field of desks again to wait
for his next summons.

“Oh, just waiting for a friend. I left my ID in her car so she’s supposed to meet me here and give it
back,” you said and hoped that your voice didn’t sound forced. You weren’t a great liar and though
Mr. Min had told you to never give details, only broad lies, you somehow seemed to always forget in
the heat of the moment.

“You poor thing. I’ll swipe you into the building. Just tell your friend to bring your ID to the front
desk and I’ll buzz you when she drops it off,” she replied. Her bony finger hit the call button for the
elevator before she turned to look at you with a warm smile.

“That’s sweet of you,” you said and your chest tightened when you heard a car approaching again.
“But I need to talk to her about some things so I’m just going to wait.”

“Are you sure, honey? It’s awfully cold.”

The roar of a car echoed off the concrete walls of the garage and you bit your lip in hopes that your
teeth would relieve some of your anxiety. “Oh, I don’t mind. I naturally run a little hotter than
everyone else,” you said with a polite laugh as your eyes flicked towards a set of headlights that
danced across the wall. A car would turn the corner and approach the elevator that you stood by any
moment and you were certain that it was him trying for a second time to pick you up. “You should
go in though. I don’t want you to catch a cold,” you said quickly and ushered her towards the open
elevator.

“Well if she isn’t here in a few minutes just do what I said. Standing in the garage with a skirt on is
just asking for a sickness. What would Mr. Min do if you were out of commission?”

Your eyes darted to meet hers, to judge whether her words held a threat, but she had lowered her
head and lost herself in a search through her purse. You muttered, “will do,” and watched the doors
seal shut as you tried to hide your panic.

The black car came to a stop in front of you and you tried to push her words out of your mind. You
had both been very careful, it was extremely unlikely that anyone in the building knew about your
secret relationship. If that’s even what you could call it. Mr. Min made no attempt to open the car
door for you and as soon as you closed it behind you he pulled off to head towards the top level of
the garage. “You said twenty minutes,” you scolded him but he didn’t reply. “Fine, well when I have
to take some sick days because I caught a cold don’t expect me to answer your messages.” You
turned and looked out the window, your nose held a little high in the air as you pouted. He didn’t
speak though, only a few light chuckles from him broke the silence (no doubt amused by your
scolding) until he had parked the car in a corner spot, as far away from the bright lights as he could
get. He pushed the driver's seat as far from the steering wheel as he could get it and he looked at you
with a disinterested stare, “get to it,” he said and snapped his fingers at the command.

Your body moved automatically, already having been trained to respond to his orders without
hesitation. You climbed over the console in between the front seats awkwardly, your hands were
somewhat used to finding the way over the cumbersome block but it never failed to make things
difficult. “You know, if you are so into car sex you should really get a car that doesn’t have a stupid
console in the middle of the seat,” you muttered as you finally managed to saddle yourself with your
knees on either side of his lap.

You hiked your skirt up to make your position more comfortable and exposed your black garter belt
to him. His hands dug into your thighs just above the garter around the top of your stockings and he
pulled you down on top of him. “You know,” he said in a way that made it clear he was mocking
you for all your whining, “I can think of something else you could be doing with that pretty mouth of
yours other than just complaining.” You sighed, signaling you were giving up the petty argument
(for now at least) and your hands moved to rest on his shoulders as you leaned forward to place your
lips on his. His lips were soft and his kisses were made of languid movements with intermittent sighs
that danced against your lips every time he parted from you.

His grip on your thighs pulled you closer to him and the motion rubbed your thinly veiled core over
his quickly hardening cock. You smirked at the sensation before you rocked your hips against him
again and enjoyed the quiet pride that filled you as his breath hitched. You wrapped your hand
around his black tie as you moved to pepper kisses along his jaw and down his neck, careful to avoid
leaving any marks. “You better move quickly. I’m not going to excuse your tardiness if you are late
for work,” he said with a sigh but the firm edge of his voice was still there. Something about the way
his sigh sounded content, as if he had been waiting for the moment you were straddling him all
morning, thrilled you but you tried to temper it with reminders that he wasn’t interested in anything
other than sex.
“But I’m with the boss, shouldn’t that be excused,” you playfully whined against his neck as you
continued rocking your hips.

He chuckled lightly and the vibration of it in his neck rubbed against your lips, the gentle rock of his
chest with each syllable of the laugh pressed against you, and for a brief second your lips stilled on
his skin. You had heard him laugh before, usually at things you said or did just like he was then, so
why was it that now the sound filled you with a lightness? Why did a smile pull at your lips? Why
were you so proud to know that you had made him make that sound? You tried to push the thoughts
out of your mind and before you could will your mouth back to work on his neck he had lifted your
hips off of his lap. “I’m not interested in sticking my neck out for you at work, dollface,” he said and
you tried to ignore the sting his words left in your chest. “Especially since you haven’t even sucked
me off yet. Come on, you’re running out of time to get me off.” He slapped your ass and pushed you
off his lap and back towards the passenger seat.

The car was fairly dim with only a small amount of light reaching in through the tinted windows but
you could still see him watch you expectantly as you crawled your upper body over the console
again. You were proud of yourself for only glaring at him about the stupid blockage instead of telling
him off again. Your ass was raised in the air and you were thankful he had parked next to a wall lest
some employee be greeted with that sight on their way to work. Your hands fumbled in the awkward
position that you never seemed to be able to get used to no matter how many times this exact
scenario had played out before and with a disappointed sigh he pushed your hands away to open his
own pants. Mr. Min stopped short of pulling his cock free from the confines of his boxer-briefs and
you immediately sprang into action before he could reprimand you or remind you of the time
constraints again.

He was only half hard and a rush of panic came over you as you wondered if you would be able to
please him with what little time you had. A quick glance at the fancy watch on Mr. Min’s wrist that
rested against his thigh told you that there was only fifteen minutes until you were supposed to be
clocked in and it seemed as if he wasn’t going to accommodate your tardiness. You were certain
your supervisor wouldn’t be too pleased with yet another day you were late, it wasn’t like you could
explain that the CEO was the reason you were late every time. Without another moment wasted you
gripped his cock and moved your hand along it slowly before your thumb rolled along his head. His
eyes fluttered shut at the movement, but only for a moment, before they sprung open again to meet
yours. They were cold, distant, disinterested in what you were doing, possibly even in you yourself.
Something inside of your chest stung faintly but you merely lowered yourself to run your tongue
along his length before sparing a kitten lick on his head.

His hands stayed away from you, one rested on his thigh, the other on the back of the passenger's
seat, as if he wasn’t interested in touching you, feeling you, experiencing your body at all, and yet
you were stretched uncomfortably over the console in between the front seats desperately trying to
please him as quickly as you could. Before that familiar sting in your chest could grow you reminded
yourself he had been nothing but upfront since the beginning about what this relationship was and
you had agreed. Not only that but you were free to leave at any time. He had promised multiple times
that if you wanted out that there would be no hard feelings and no unfair punishments would happen
at work. You had his word and beyond that you had every text message, logs of all of his phone
calls, and even emails he had sent you. You might be putting yourself in danger emotionally but he
had tried to make it as even and fair as he could.

When he was properly hard, the vein that wrapped around his length raised against his soft skin, you
lowered your mouth to him. Your lips spread slowly across his head followed by kitten licks along
his tip before you lowered yourself further, your ass followed and lifted higher in the air. You heard
his breath hitch above you as your tongue pressed against his bulging vein and the sound, the littlest
bit of reassurance that though he liked to appear disinterested he was in fact enjoying himself, was
enough to spur you further. Your head bobbed along him at a steady pace, your cheeks hollowed as
you sucked against him, and just when his head approached the back of your mouth, dangerously
close to your throat, you would swallow and relish in the way his breath would stumble erratically
for a moment before he controlled it again.

After a couple of minutes of this he sighed and you didn’t miss the disappointed tone to it before you
noticed him look at his watch. “Is this supposed to get me off? Work harder,” he said in a calm voice
that you knew was partially an act, “you only have eleven minutes left.”

Fucking stupid time limit. The time constraint seemed impossible now but you followed his orders
and worked harder. You lowered yourself further onto him as you monitored your breath. Just as
your nose was pressed against the fabric of his boxer-briefs you heard him let out a small moan. It
was tiny, just enough that even if you had been seated in the passenger’s seat you wouldn’t have
heard it. You quickened your pace. You breathed when you lifted yourself and then brought him as
deep into your mouth as you could before a lewd sound would find its way into the car.

Without explanation he pulled you off of him by the collar of your blouse and before you could
question him his hand wrapped around your wrist. He tugged you back into his lap and you moved
to straddle him again with as little fumbling as you could manage. “I don’t have time for this. Ride
me,” he growled. Though you saw the indifference on his face the husky breathlessness of his voice
told you it was a lie. You hiked your skirt further up your body until it mostly rested around your
waist. Too many times had similar scenarios played out between the two of you in the past only for
you to notice white stains on your skirt later that day (usually thanks to a smug and slightly degrading
phone call from Mr. Min himself).

It wasn’t until you began to move into place that you noticed his hand still wrapped tightly around
your wrist. His eyes bore into you with a disinterested stare but as your eyes flicked between your
wrist and his face he seemed to realize he was still gripping you. A sudden flash of realization
crossed his eyes before he quickly pulled his hand away from you and replaced it on the back of the
passenger seat with a small cough.

You chose to ignore the way your chest fluttered as your mind wondered if he could possibly return
your repressed feelings and you positioned him at your entrance with one hand and pulled your
underwear out of the way with the other. You tried to keep your breath steady as you lowered
yourself onto him, your eyes winced shut to focus on remaining quiet, but your concentration was
broken when you felt his slender fingers wrap around your chin. He lifted your face and you opened
your eyes as you stilled on top of him.

“Keep looking at me. And let me hear you. Don’t hold back, you understand?”

You nodded and went to move again but his fingers tightened on your chin. “What did I say? I told
you to not be quiet. When I ask a question I want to hear an answer. Am I being clear?” His voice
was low and menacing with a gravelly edge to it that caused your heart race.

“Yes sir.” In comparison your voice was timid and weak. As you rocked your hips against him you
made sure to maintain eye contact with his dark orbs even though it left you feeling vulnerable and
exposed in front of him. He didn’t let go of your jaw even as you raised and lowered yourself
rhythmically along his cock. Pressure had built in your stomach since you received his text message
that morning with the knowledge that you would soon be filled with him and feeling his dick stretch
out your walls only intensified that tightening. “Look at you, dollface. Riding your boss’ dick in the
parking garage before work. Who knew I hired such a whore,” he growled as he refused to break the
stare.

Though you moaned and gasped on top of him Mr. Min barely made a noise save for some stuttered
breaths and low contented sighs. Your hands rested on his shoulders and though he was quiet, even
stoic underneath you, you could feel the tension in his muscles below your fingertips. He was
desperate to maintain composure in front of you and the secret knowledge of his struggle helped to
alleviate some of the vulnerability his gaze filled you with. Almost absentmindedly your palms rolled
into his shoulders, your fingers kneaded the tense muscles, and a low moan escaped Mr. Min’s lips
as his eyes briefly rolled back into his head.

It felt like a gift. For months your encounters with Mr. Min had left you with a handful of brief slips,
some sighs, growls, grunts, and a few tiny moans, but his eyes rolling into his head? That was new.

Your hips worked faster and harder against him. If he had moaned again his was drowned out in a
sea of your own. His cock slid in and out of you with ease and the hollowness you felt as you raised
off of him each time left you desperate for his return. You could feel the sweat as it rolled down your
spine and suddenly you felt Mr. Min’s free hand press against your back.

Though your eyes had remained locked on his your focus had shifted to the feeling of his muscles as
they relaxed under your fingertips and the way he felt as he filled you with each movement of your
hips. His cold hand pressed against your lower back brought your attention back to his gaze. His
eyes were dark and intimidating, his fingers gripped your jaw so tightly that you nearly complained,
until he spoke. “Rock your hips and don’t stop until I cum.”

“Yes sir,” you moaned obediently between shaky breaths. The way he spoke, his voice so gruff and
his words so rough, made the pressure in your belly threaten to explode.

You rocked your hips, alternating between moving back and forth and in circles, without lifting
yourself off of Mr. Min. Each roll of your hips was led by his hand and it’s firm pushes on your back
as he controlled your speed. His eyes didn’t leave yours and you didn’t dare to break the gaze that he
demanded. His shoulders started to tense again under your hands regardless of how much you
massaged them and by the way his breath had come more labored you knew he was close to his
high.

The hand that had gripped your jaw the entire time slid to the back of your neck and brought you
closer to him. For a brief moment you expected him to kiss you, something he had never done. In the
past three months you had initiated every kiss and had kept your knowledge of that fact to yourself
lest you embarrass yourself in front of him. Your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes
flickered down to his lips. They pulled into a cruel smirk as he led your forehead to meet his, no kiss
in sight. He sneered, “keep looking at me.”

You felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment but you were sure he couldn’t tell with the way you had
exerted yourself over the course of the encounter. Your eyes never left his as you rolled your hips
against him and his fingers tightened on the back of your neck. “Just like that, dollface,” he grunted
and his hot breath hit your skin with each syllable he spoke. The effect sent you over the edge, the
pressure in your stomach exploded and flowed through every vein in your body. Your head was
thrown back and though Mr. Min had insisted you kept his gaze he was just as satisfied to hear your
cry, one that sounded suspiciously like his name. His hand left the back of your neck and slid around
to the front where he took his time to run it slowly over your skin down to the cleavage he knew was
exposed just for him and back to the base of your throat. Your walls clenched around him as you
rocked and before your orgasm had finished his own had started. His hand tightened instinctively
around your throat, something he had never attempted before, and the unconscious action caused you
to moan loudly. “Fuck, dollface,” he grunted in a strained voice as his hips thrust up into you.
“Fucking hell you feel amazing.”

The heat of his release spread through your core and as you rolled your head back to face Mr. Min
you found his eyes ready to bore into you again. His cheeks were a dusty rose, his pupils were
blown, and his lips were parted. He had never looked more desirable and just as you were about to
lean in to kiss him he loosened his grip on your throat and looked at his watch. “Looks like you’re
going to be late today. You should probably get going,” he said and clearly was focused on trying to
hide his heavy breathing.

That familiar and unwanted sting in your chest came again. He wasn’t even out of your body and
already trying to send you away. “Y-y-yeah,” you said and tried to cover your stutter with a small
laugh. His hand slid off of your back with no hesitation and you moved to lift yourself off of him.
His hands trailed up your legs and under your skirt to tug at your panties and you froze in place.

“Take them off.”

“What?”

“You heard me, take off your panties.” He stared at you like it wasn’t an odd request.

“What? Why? I’m wearing a garter belt! It will take forever,” you whined.

He sighed as his hands trailed back down your legs to your exposed thighs. “It’s like,” he mumbled,
“you love to make things difficult for me.” His hands snapped your garter clasps open almost
expertly before they rested on your thighs just above the lace top of your stockings. “Come on, take
them off for me.”

You were torn between fighting him, scrapping at what little reins you could grasp in the
relationship, and seeing exactly where he was going with this. Your curiosity outweighed your desire
for power and before you could even finish pulling yourself off of him he opened the driver's side
door of the car. “What are you doing,” you asked in a panicked voice as your eyes darted to the
windows of the car to look for anyone who might see.

“Relax, dollface,” he chuckled and rubbed his thumbs over the skin of your thighs slowly. “No one
is going to see. Besides, I’d rather pull them off of you myself.” His devilish smirk was back and any
resolve you had mustered to fight him had dissolved with it. You nodded slowly and raised yourself
fully off of him, your eyes closed instinctively as his flaccid member fell out of you, before you
exited the car. Mr. Min was quick to follow you as he shoved himself back into his pants and dressed
again. He watched you as he fumbled with his pants and chuckled.

“What’s so funny,” you snapped and though you didn’t intend it your voice came out as a whisper.

“You’re so paranoid. No one is going to see. Now come on, lift up your skirt for me.” He had
already lowered himself to the ground on one knee and his hands gripped your legs but that devilish
smirk was still spread across his face as he stared up at you. With one last tentative look around the
parking garage you lifted the bottom of your skirt until Mr. Min had easy access to your underwear.
“Good girl,” he said in a near whisper as his eyes danced over your body. Without hesitation he
slipped his hands around the back of your legs to undo your back garter clasps before his fingers
danced up your thighs teasingly.

“Oh come on, don’t make it take forever,” you whispered harshly and folded your arms across your
chest before your eyes returned to scanning the garage for anyone who might see Mr. Min
undressing you.

“Calm down, no one is going to see what you’re letting me do to you,” Mr. Min said and the fact that
he hadn’t even tried to lower his voice annoyed you yet a part of you found his risk taking nature
seductive.
He tugged your underwear down your legs and you stepped out of them obediently before he held
them up for you to see. You noticed, clear as day, a creamy white stain that had pooled on them and
the mortification swiftly washed over you but before you could reach out to grab them Mr. Min
pocketed them into his suit jacket, his eyes still on your exposed body. His fingers deftly snapped
your garter clasps into place before his hands stilled on your thighs, his gaze transfixed by something.

You felt a small trickle of liquid run down your thigh and the blush of your cheeks darkened with the
realization of what it was. Before you could push your skirt down Mr. Min’s finger swept up the
inside of your thigh to collect the milky fluid on his finger. His eyes met yours and, if possible, they
were darker than you had seen them. There seemed to be some kind of mischievous glint to them that
caught your breath in your throat.

He stood up, slowly and deliberately, and stepped closer to you. “Open up,” he said in a low and
demanding voice. You would have liked to say that you hesitated, that you refused, but the truth was
you opened your mouth without thinking twice about his command. His eyes dropped to your mouth
with a heated intensity. He slipped his finger into your mouth where your tongue lapped up the cum
as you watched his eyes trained on where his digit disappeared into you. When he was satisfied you
had cleaned it off he pulled it back out and returned his stare to your eyes. “Good girl,” he said in the
same low voice before he cleared his throat and looked around the parking garage, as if he was only
just then aware of how exposed you two were. “You should get to work. You're already late.”

“Right,” you said with an obedient nod and lowered your skirt back over your body. You couldn't
meet his eyes as you tried to will the fire looming in your loins into submission and when you were
only a few steps away he grabbed your elbow and spun you back around. For a brief moment, a
second that you didn't want to acknowledge, a very tangible part of you hoped he was grabbing you
for a kiss but in the end he just shoved your purse into your chest with a lopsided grin. “Oh, right,
thanks,” you muttered and once again failed to meet his eyes.

It was as if your feet couldn't carry you away from him fast enough. It had been three months since
you stormed into his office looking for a date and when he had made it crystal clear that he was not
interested in anything other than casual sex you told yourself that that was fine. For months you had
been perfectly fine with the arrangement you had agreed to but in the last couple of weeks the way
your chest tightened and the amount of time you spent watching him while he worked had grown to
be too difficult to ignore. You were in danger of ruining the whole agreement and you knew it.

After a stern lecture from your supervisor for being tardy again you returned to your desk in front of
Mr. Min’s office. You could see him through his wall of windows that overlooked the work floor as
he talked to one of the supervisors of another department. He was listening to her animated
discussion as her arms flew wildly about and you presumed that she wasn’t happy about something.
He seemed intrigued in the conversation but you didn’t miss the way his eyes trailed over to you as
you walked to your desk. Your heart skipped a beat when his dark eyes found you underneath his
blonde fringe but you tried to ignore it and his gaze as you sat down at your desk. Though your back
was to him and you knew he was busy with the supervisor you couldn’t help but think about his eyes
lingering on you as she spoke, him completely disinterested in what she had to say, and that was
exactly what the problem was. You shook your head as if to rid your mind of those thoughts and set
about your work.

Before long the supervisor left Mr. Min’s office without a glance your way and almost immediately
your phone rang. Without looking at the caller ID you picked up your phone and before you could
even speak his voice rang through the phone. “I can smell you from here,” he said in his usual
gravelly voice.

You tossed a glare over your shoulder towards him and saw that he was leaned back in his chair, his
feet on top of his desk, and his eyes trained on you. “If that is supposed to be some kind of insult
then I won’t hear it from you. It’s your fault after all,” you said in a hushed tone. You spun back
around in your seat so you didn’t have to see him anymore and began typing something on your
computer, you couldn’t even be sure what it was because your mind was still on his devilish smirk as
he pulled off your panties.

“Relax, dollface,” he said with a gentle chuckle. “I was talking about your underwear. I still have
your poor ruined panties in my suit jacket after all.”

You closed your eyes and refused to acknowledge the way his voice and his words were causing
your stomach to tighten. “Once again, that’s your fault,” you muttered with a very conscious effort to
keep your voice low enough that no one but him could hear you.

“Oh? Is it? I seem to remember that you came around my dick as well. I’m pretty confident that I was
not the only one who participated in ruining these.” You gave yourself the opportunity to spare a
glance back at him only to see that he was holding up your red panties as if it was some kind of
trophy, he admired them and you couldn’t be certain but it looked as if he was running his fingers
over where the white stain had been. He had not a care in the world about the fact that one of the
walls in his office was entirely made of glass and that anyone who looked over at him could see what
he was doing.

“For fucks sake put those away,” you hissed into the phone but he chuckled and stuffed them back
into his suit jacket without any further condemnation from you.

“I’ll buy you a new pair.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Really? You don’t want some new lingerie? What kind of woman doesn’t want free lingerie?” You
finally turned back towards the other workers and broke his stare with a defiant humph into the
phone. He chuckled again, clearly amused by your reaction, “I’ll pick out some nice ones for you.
Mmm, I can picture you in them now. But if I do you can only wear them for me, understand?”

Your stomach continued to tighten without your permission. The idea of wearing lingerie he had
picked out specifically for you was too tempting and you were sure the reason why had nothing to
do with the expensive gift and everything to do with him thinking of you when you weren’t around.
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down. “Is there something
you wanted, Mr. Min?”

“Mr. Min? I didn’t realize we were talking business here. You know what you should call me.”

Your stomach tightened again and a smile spread across your lips though you tried to fight it. “Is
there something you need from me, sir?” You said the last word with emphasis, a bit more of a
breathy voice than the rest of your conversation.

“Ah, there’s my girl,” he said and you could hear his smile through the phone. “Why don’t you go
on and bend over your desk for me?”

“What,” you said a bit too loudly, your eyes rounded in surprise. You lowered your voice and
continued, “I can’t just do that here.”

“Sure you can and you will. Weren’t the rules of our arraignment that you do what I say, when I say
it? I seem to remember you agreeing to that. So go on, stand up and bend over your desk for me.
Pretend you are looking for something.”
You took a deep sigh before you stood up, pushing your chair back and out of the way so he could
have a clear view, before you leaned over the desk. Your fingers fumbled around the front of your
desk as if you were looking for something important but anyone who had been paying attention
would have noticed that your ass was up higher than necessary, pushed out and put on display for
your boss who was sitting at his desk watching. “Like that?”

“Just like that, dollface,” he said with a low hiss. “God, I love your ass.” You giggled quietly, just
enough for him to hear and after a tentative glance at the coworkers closest to you who were busy on
their computers or with their heads buried in papers, you shook your butt as a taunt. You could hear
him hiss again but a small laugh followed it and for the briefest moment you could imagine the entire
exchange being a playful sexy moment between a couple and not a girl who agreed to be her boss’
sex toy. Though he was only on the phone you knew without looking that his hand was definitely in
his lap, rubbing against his clothed cock as it grew harder. “Lift up your skirt for me.”

“What?! No, I can’t do that here,” you said quietly and stood up.

“No one is watching, I’ve been looking. You're safe, I wouldn’t ask you to do it if I thought anyone
could see. Now do what I said, bend over your desk and lift up your skirt. I want to see that ass for
myself.”

His words had been just comforting enough while still dripping of filth to convince you to do what
he said. You leaned over your desk again and rested your phone between your shoulder and ear
before both of your hands reached behind you and lifted your skirt just high enough for him to get a
good view.

“Oh, babygirl,” he hissed into the phone. Babygirl? That was new. His nickname for you had always
been ‘dollface’, he even told you once that was what he had you saved in his phone as (at the time
you were thrilled to have been a contact in his phone but overtime the fact that he didn’t even want to
put your actual name in his phone had bothered you).

You could feel yourself start to leak again, not that it had ever really stopped but when you were
sitting you had been able to tighten your muscles and hold his cum in for the most part. Now, in this
fully exposed position, it didn’t appear to be enough to keep his seed in you. It started as a faint tingle
on the edge of your lips but before you knew it you could feel a small trail run down your thighs as
you pressed them together.

He was quiet and you gathered from his silence that he had seen his cum leaking out of your pussy.
“Get in here,” he ordered and this time the hiss, the faintly jovial tone to his voice had all but
disappeared and only the dominant part of him remained.

“What? Why?” Even as you asked the question you stood back up from your position and lowered
your skirt to its original position.

“Don’t ask questions. Just get in here.” He hung up without another word and by the time you
placed your phone on it’s receiver and turned around you could see Mr. Min reach for the blinds for
his window wall. Your breath hitched in your throat but a heat pooled in your belly to replace that
tightening situation and it alone was enough to get your feet moving towards the door of his office.
Just as you took your second step, when he was sure you were coming to him as he ordered, he
closed the blinds with a sudden snap and hid his office from the rest of the floor.

You knocked at his door, just as every employee did for him, if for no other reason than to keep up
appearances for anyone who might be watching. He didn’t wait to open the door though, it was clear
he was expecting you. Anyone who had seen you enter his office would guess, by the dark and
foreboding stare in his eyes, that whatever reason you were going to his office was not a pleasant
one. They were wrong.

As soon as he closed the door he pointed to his desk and with a low growl said, “bend over it.
Now.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding before you moved to his desk and followed
his command. He was only a step behind you as you walked across his office and after you bent over
his desk he immediately jerked the end of your skirt over your ass and lowered himself to his knees.
He was close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin but even with your chin hooked
over your shoulder you couldn’t get a view of him to see his face.

“God damn, dollface,” he finally muttered in a gruff voice, “you just couldn’t keep my cum in, huh?”

Immediately your face heated and you turned your head away from him so he wouldn’t see. “I’m
sorry. I tried to--.”

“You didn’t try hard enough, did you?” He gripped your ass cheeks and spread you apart almost
painfully and you whimpered pathetically on top of his desk. “Now I have to help you. I have better
things to do than this.”

“I’m sorry sir,” you said softly again to play your part. Truth be told if you had known it was going
to get him so worked up you wouldn’t have tried to keep it in at all. You would have let it pool in
your seat and called him from your desk to come see the mess you had made if you knew he was
going to be so aggressive.

“I thought a whore,” he said before he slapped the inside of your left thigh for bringing it too far in
and blocking his view, “would have been able to do that easily.”

“I’m so sorry, sir.”

Mr. Min scoffed before he stood up behind you, one hand cupping your sex while his other grabbed
your hair and pulled your head back. His mouth was next to your ear where he nearly spat, “is that
all you can fucking say?” You tried to shake your head no but his grip on your hair made the
movement awkward and nearly spastic. “What? Do you not have any other words? Is that mouth of
yours only good for sucking cock?”

He ran a slender finger over your slit before he rubbed small lazy circles into your clit. As he pressed
against you a small trickle of his cum leaked out of you, you could feel the tingle of it as it happened
and tried to squirm away from him before he would notice. However, he was more observant than
you gave him credit for and dropped your hair in order to return to his place kneeling behind you.
“You just don’t know how to listen do you? I have so many other things to do but here I am,” he
grumbled and even the insulting tone of his voice didn’t convince you he wasn’t loving every
moment of having you bent over his desk. He ran one finger up the inside of your thigh to collect the
cum that had leaked out and slowly pushed himself into you, using his own release as lubricant.

You breathed in deeply as he used his finger to slowly push in and out of you. His finger curled
inside of you to feel around your walls as he knelt behind you. Without warning his mouth found the
inside of your thigh, his teeth dug into the skin and you let out a sharp yelp as he bit you. “Nuh uh,
dollface. You're gonna have to be quiet. We don't want anyone to know how dirty you are.”

As if he was testing you he suddenly pushed a second finger into you and you whimpered over his
desk, your head held down towards the wooden surface to try to muffle any sound. With his free
hand he drug his nails along your leg before he snaked it to the inside of your thigh and squeezed the
bite mark he had left. You heard your yelp before you realized you had made it but Mr. Min had
already abandoned his kneeling position to hover over your back with his free hand pressed against
his desk by your shoulder.

He stilled his fingers inside of you as he glared down at the side of your face. “What did I just say?”

“For me to be quiet. I'm sorry, sir.”

He snarled, “why do you have to make everything so difficult?” He didn't wait for you to answer his
question before he started thrusting his fingers into you until he was knuckle deep. You tossed your
head back, close to his chest above you, and let out a loud moan that you knew anyone who
happened to be standing outside his door or by your desk would have heard. Suddenly Mr. Min’s
hand disappeared from beside your shoulder as he continued to finger fuck your pussy. “Open your
mouth,” he growled and before you could even comply he was already shoving your ruined panties
into your mouth. He leaned into you, his mouth brushed the shell of your ear and he whispered, “if
you can’t keep quiet I will just have to force you.”

His hand didn’t stop moving, he thrusted into you repeatedly but he continued to hover over you. He
pulled your earlobe in between his teeth and you could not only hear but also feel his warm breath on
your ear. “If you’re this fucking tight you should be able to keep all the cum I give you, do you
understand me? If I cum in you I want it to stay there. You belong to me and your pussy was made
for my cum. You got it?”

You nodded your head but he only growled in your ear, “what did I tell you this morning? When I
ask you a question I want to hear an answer. So answer me.”

You could feel the needy knot in your lower stomach tighten and knew it was only a matter of time
before his fingers and his words would make you cum again for the second time that day. You willed
your tongue to work against the lacy fabric of your soiled underwear and though you tried to
articulate your understanding, your compliance with his wishes, it only came out as a long muffled
moan with vague syllables. It seemed to please him though because his free hand snaked down in
between you and the desk until he found your clit. His fingers worked in small deliberate circles
meant more to wind you up than to let you release. “You sound so good like this,” he whispered and
though you couldn’t see him you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Bent over my desk with your
mouth full of your panties. All of those muffled moans. God, you are amazing.”

It shouldn’t have but your chest swelled with pride. Almost immediately the pride dissolved into a
pool of self hatred and pity, something you could drown in later when Mr. Min’s fingers weren’t so
close to throwing you off the edge. All of your thoughts disappeared, set aside for a later time, as you
willed yourself to fall into your orgasm. A string of long moans, muffled from the lace in your
mouth, managed to find their way into the office and, without saying anything, his hand cruelly left
your clit and left you dangling over the precipice.

Before you could turn your head to glare at him or even get a muffled ‘what the fuck, Mr. Min’ out
his hand had already found you again but this time it was around your neck. Your eyes widened and
you inhaled deeply before his fingers dug into your skin, the bridge of his hand between his thumb
and forefinger rested against the front of your throat. He didn’t cut off your air completely, his grip
was timid, unsure, and more explorative than his usual actions but the thrill was there just the same.
You tried to ignore it, tried to will it away like you had been able to earlier, but you were positive
that Mr. Min hadn’t done this before today. He had tested it in the car that morning and decided he
trusted you enough to do it again. Not only that, and you tried to remind yourself this only meant he
was a decent human being and shouldn’t be anything to freak out about, but he was being careful
with his actions so as not to hurt you, of that you were absolutely certain.

“What did I say, babygirl?” Your heart jumped again with the new nickname he had given you and
 you closed your eyes to focus on the way his breath felt on your skin. “I told you to be quiet. I don’t
want everyone on the floor to know how much of a whore you are. Then I would have to fire every
guy who tried to hit on you, wouldn’t I?” You were close, you were so close. “And you know why?
Because your pussy is mine.” You felt the knot in your lower stomach starting to unwind, thread by
thread as he talked. It would only take another few strokes of his hands, another couple of choice
words, and you would unravel in front of him. “Your body is mine. You are mine. You belong to
me.”

And with that he pulled away from you entirely. His hand slipped out of your pussy as your walls
struggled desperately to try to clench around anything at all to get some relief. You turned to face
him, just in time to see him lick his fingers with his eyes closed before he opened them again and
smugly smirked at you. “You seem to have something right here,” he said with an amused chuckle
and pointed to his mouth.

You knew exactly what he meant and pulled the lacy fabric out of your mouth before you threw it at
him. “What the hell was that? You can’t just leave me like that.” You tried not to shout, aware of
where you were, but your voice was still loud enough to cause him to raise his eyebrows.

“How many times do I have to tell you to be quiet? Sheesh, it seems like you can only be good when
my hands are around your neck, huh?” The smug smile on his face, the lopsided grin that you were
growing to despise, only grew when he saw you roll your eyes and huff.

You yanked your skirt down to cover yourself again and ran your hand through your hair to try to
control it as you thought of what choice words you could get away with saying to your boss. “I can’t
wait till I suck your cock again,” you muttered as you started to walk for the door, “I’m gonna leave
you right on the edge like that and then laugh at your blue balls.”

He let out a laugh, strong enough that his eyes closed, and yet he was aware of your proximity to
him enough that he was able to grab your elbow as you passed him on the way to the door. “I’d like
to see you try, babygirl. I run things here, don’t forget that.” When he opened his eyes again, his
laughter still evident in the crinkles around them, you glared at him as hard as you could. His eyes
flashed down to your lips and only then did you realize you were pouting but at that point you
couldn’t be bothered to care. You decided that you definitely needed to put some space between you
and him and you didn’t care that the decision was spurred by anger and frustration. “We have a staff
meeting in an hour. I’ll save you a seat,” he said with a smile. You huffed again and yanked your
arm out of his grasp. As your hand reached the doorknob of his door he called out to you again while
he shoved your ruined underwear into his pocket. “Try to make sure you keep all of my cum inside
this time, will you? I’ll be checking.”

Chapter End Notes

Originally posted on Tumblr by ellieljade as Chapter 01

 Chapter 02
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

You slammed Mr. Min’s office door behind you and immediately regretted it when dozens of eyes
turned to stare at you. You were sure your cheeks were flushed and you hoped your hair wasn’t a
mess. After a deep breath to steady yourself you made your way past all of your co worker’s desks
towards the bathroom, ignoring the way their eyes followed you, some with suspicion and others
with pity. No doubt many of them believed you had just been chewed out by Mr. Min, maybe one or
two of them even suspected the truth of what kind of activities happened behind closed doors, but at
the moment the only thing you cared about was getting as far away from Mr. Min as possible.

When the bathroom door closed behind you and you saw there was no one at the sink you allowed
yourself to close your eyes and sigh in a desperate attempt to expel all the anger out of your body.
“Fucking prick,” you sighed and with your back pressed against the door you hit your fist against it
to emphasize each word, “what a fucking dick.”

“Who is?” A familiar voice came from behind one of the closed stalls and you grimaced before you
could try to figure out who it belonged to. A stupid mistake like that was bound to get you caught
one day. Mr. Min had already warned you about seemingly simple slip ups like that and how they
could destroy the whole arrangement. The stall door opened and out from it slipped a woman around
your age who had quickly become a workplace friend, Yoojung.

“Oh, uh, this guy I’ve been seeing,” you muttered and walked to the sink to wash your hands. “He’s
just a…he’s just an ass.”

“Mmm, I know the type,” she mused and joined you at the sink. “What kind is he? A cheater?
Controlling? Abusive?” She eyed you in the mirror and you met her gaze with a stern look of your
own.

“No, he’s none of those. He’s just,” you said and paused as you tried to think of a way to describe
him, “well he’s just an ass.”

She smiled to herself before she turned off the water to her sink and pulled some paper towels out of
the dispenser and dry her hands. “They all are, honey. Here’s some advice,” she said with the air of
someone who was bestowing great wisdom down onto her ignorant peers, “beat him at his own
game.”

“What,” you asked as you finally turned off your faucet and followed her to the towel dispenser. It
was no secret that Yoojung was popular with the guys in the office, she had dated several, some of
them even seriously, and at office parties she was never without a date. If someone was going to be
able to give you advice for the twisted situation you were in it would be her.

“Beat him at his own game. Don’t let the bastards grind you down. I read that in a book once,” she
said with an amused giggle. “So what did he do? No bullshit this time.” She winked at you and you
could feel yourself relax against the countertop of the sink.

“It’s one of those classic tragic situations. One party is more invested in the relationship than the
other and in this case I’m the one destined to be hurt.”

“Ah, I see. Those usually hurt the most.”

“Thanks,” you said with a chuckle that sounded hollow. “So how do I ‘beat him at his own game’?”

“Well why does he stick around if he isn’t into you like you are him?” She asked the question but
you didn’t have to answer before she spoke again with a knowing smile. “Oh, of course. Sex.” You
met her smile with one of your own before she continued again. “Okay, so you have two options.
One, cut off all ties with him and walk away from it completely. It’ll suck, that’s for sure, but it’ll get
the job done the most efficiently. Two, accept that he is never going to feel the same way you do and
get what you can out of it, and by that I mean all the good sex you can, while you look for someone
to replace him. And when you find someone, and I mean anyone with a pulse and a dick that can
satisfy, leave him. He can get his rocks off with someone else, you deserve better than being his cum
dumpster.”

“His cum dumpster?” It came out as a laugh but once again rang hollow. It was a crass and cruel
way to put it but that was essentially what you were, was it not? You answered his calls, appeared
when and how he wanted you to, and you weren’t to expect anything more than that. He had made
that abundantly clear. So what other way was there to put it? There were, of course, other words that
could take its place but the term itself fit the description. Whore, slut, tramp, harlot, they could all
take its place but the meaning was the same. Putting a prettier word in its place didn’t numb the sting.

“Call it what you like,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, “but the point is you are more
than just a vagina. If he doesn’t see that then he is an idiot and not worth your time,” she smiled then
added quickly, “though his dick might be.”

When you returned to your desk you noticed that Mr. Min’s blinds were pulled back but that he
wasn’t at his desk. You decided to stop thinking about him and to focus on your work, after all he
had made it clear that he wasn’t going to stick up for you at work. Time passed quickly and only
occasionally did your eyes drift to Mr. Min as he walked around the work floor talking to employees
and supervisors as they sifted through paperwork. He didn’t look your way as far as you could tell
and that was certainly typical of him. After all, you reminded yourself, if his dick didn’t need to get
off then why would he need to bother with you.

The thought brought that familiar sting to your chest and you pulled your lip between your teeth as
you willed it away. Your eyes focused on a stapler on your desk and your mind wandered to
Yoojung’s advice. You couldn’t call it off entirely, it felt too cruel too soon, like ripping a bandage
off a wound that wasn’t ready to fend for itself without that protective barrier.

A slam and a whip of air pulled you out of your thoughts and you noticed a stack of folders on the
corner of your desk. “Sorry about this,” a deep voice said and when you followed it you realized it
came from Jungkook, a coworker of yours who you had only started working in your department
two weeks before. He was friendly, nice, and what you had noticed most of all, very good looking.
His hair was a chocolate color and just brushed over his eyebrows which left the focus on his dark
eyes. He was tall with broad shoulders and large hands, which you didn’t even want to question why
you had noticed. He rubbed the back of his neck while a sheepish grin stretched over his face. “I’m
sure you had plans for the weekend but with us buying out that company we have to have our
finances all in order. It’s a lot of organizing, filing, and spreadsheets but I was hoping maybe you
could help me out? Yoojung told me you would be willing to help.”

She did? You knew Yoojung well enough to catch onto her plan, she had obviously taken her words
seriously. His smile was wide and genuine and, truth be told, you welcomed the distraction from Mr.
Min. “No, it’s fine. I don’t really have plans this weekend anyways, and hey, overtime is overtime,”
you said with a laugh.

His smile grew and for the briefest moment you were entirely entranced with the way his lips spread
across his teeth. You nearly missed when he spoke again, “that’s great. Well, I mean, it’s not great
that you didn’t have plans but I have to appreciate the offer to help.”

“Trust me,” you said with an exasperated laugh and your eyes darted to where you had last seen Mr.
Min to find he was still hunched over another employee’s desk as he flipped through pages on her
desk, “I rarely have plans on the weekend. Usually I just get caught up with whatever shows I am
interested in.”

“Really?” He seemed so genuinely interested in what you had to say and his eyes, you were
surprised to see, stayed focused on your face. They never once drifted to your exposed cleavage the
way Mr. Min’s and every other male’s in the office did. He pulled Yoojung’s chair out from her desk
and rolled it over next to yours. Before you could question why he had started fingering the folders
he had dropped off, moving some to his lap and others strategically around your desk. “I figured you
would be busy every Friday and Saturday night.”

“Excuse me,” you snapped. His eyes opened wide and his mouth parted as he looked at you clearly
trying to understand why you had shouted at him. “Is that because of the way I dress?”

“Wait! What?” It was almost as if you could see the gears in his head turning as he tried to piece the
conversation together to find out what he had done to offend you. “Because of how you dress? No,
no, no. I’m sorry, I wasn’t implying anything like that. I thought you’d be busy with dates because
you’re so pretty.”

It was your turn for your eyes to widen and your cheeks to heat under his frantically apologetic gaze.
“What?” That sinking guilty feeling started to weigh down on your chest and sank to your stomach.
Just because Mr. Min treated you that way didn’t mean every man thought the same way and it
appeared that Jungkook wasn’t like him.

He placed the folders back on the desk and ran his hand over the back of his neck again. “No, I
should apologize. I’m not-,” he said then paused and gave a nervous laugh as he looked around the
work floor, anywhere at all other than at you, “I’m not very good with flirting.”

“Oh,” you said as your cheeks heated further. rYou brought your hands to them in a desperate
attempt to try to cool your skin. “Oh my god, I’m blushing,” you said with a giggle. Someone was
flirting with you? Someone at work who wasn’t Mr. Min? Someone who seemed so genuine about
it? It was all very new. Truth be told it wasn’t unusual for you to be hit on, it’s just the caliber of guy
who did it was always much lower than Jungkook. Their come on attempts always included some
line about your body or a cheesy one they picked out of some book, it never came across as sweet or
innocent.

His eyes flashed back to your face and a grin broke across his face before he looked away and
started sorting the folders again. He laughed and mumbled just low enough that you were sure he
didn’t mean for you to hear, “of course you look even more cute when you blush. How is that
possible?” He looked over at you again and met your gaze only to see you were still blushing and a
coy smile had spread across your own face. Jungkook cleared his throat and his own cheeks turned
pink before he returned his focus to the folders. “So, uh, if you could take care of this stack then I
will do this one and whoever finishes first can help the other. Then maybe we can be finished before
the weekend is over.”

“Yeah, that sounds good to me.” You grabbed the stack of folders he had set in front of you and
nodded. You tried to keep your voice steady but the only thing running through your head was how
hot your cheeks were and how he had complimented you when he was sure you couldn’t hear.

He grabbed his own pile of folders and rolled Yoojung’s chair back to her desk. “And then, uh,
maybe if we finish before Monday I could take you on a date,” he said and though he maintained eye
contact with you and tried to give a confident smirk his cheeks were still tinted pink.

You raised your eyebrows and you couldn’t stop the smile from stretching across your lips. Your
first thought was Mr. Min and when your eyes flashed towards him you saw him watching you from
across the work floor, his face was unreadable and stoic, your second thought was what Yoojung
had said about moving past him as quickly as possible. She had trained Jungkook, clearly knew him
better than you did, and thought that he was a good option. You met Jungkook’s gaze and smiled,
“that would be great.”

He smiled broadly and the skin around his eyes crinkled. “I’ll be sure to work extra hard then. You
better too. I’m counting on you,” he said with a laugh and paused while he chewed on his bottom lip,
as if he was going to say something else, before he walked back towards his desk. As your eyes
followed him while he walked you failed to notice that Mr. Min was still watching you from the
other side of the floor.

The hour before the department meeting passed too quickly. You had barely made a dent in the
folders Jungkook had given you and hadn’t even noticed that you had made them a priority over
your usual work before you noticed your co workers gradually leaving their desks and retreating to
the meeting room on the other end of the floor. You reluctantly followed them, your notebook
clutched to your chest, as you stared at the floor. The truth was you had not prepared for this meeting
and we’re hoping you would be able to silently take notes and not have to contribute.

“If you keep looking at the floor like that you’re going to run into a wall,” a voice whispered to you
from over your shoulder. You turned your head to see Jungkook walking beside you with a slight
smirk on his face.

“Oh well now that my knight in shining armor is here I’m sure I’m safe,” you said with a small
giggle and watched as his eyes trailed from your eyes down to your lips before he turned his
attention to your surroundings.

He placed his large hand on the small of your back, the heat of it seeped through the thin material of
your blouse, and for some reason your couldn’t quite explain, some kind of primal magnetism
towards this bolder, more confident Jungkook, you couldn’t pull your eyes away from his face even
as he leaned in closer to you. His hand pressed against you and pulled you into him, the back of your
shoulder rested against his chest as he leaned his mouth closer to your ear. “It seems it’s a good thing
I was here after all. You were too busy staring at me you didn’t even see that you were going to walk
into that desk.” His voice was lower, there was a husky quality to it that hadn’t been there when he
asked for your help with work, and you questioned why you had even noticed such a thing.

You tore your eyes away from him as your cheeks heated again. “So are you my knight in shining
armor or something darker,” you asked with a cheeky grin but refused to look at him. You both
entered the meeting room where his hand slowly fell from the small of your back and managed to
respectfully navigate the small space between the two of you without touching your body anywhere
else.

You hadn’t expected him to answer now that you were in the presence of so many other employees,
supervisors, and Mr. Min himself, yet you heard the same husky voice whisper in your ear just low
enough for you to hear, “who said I can’t be both?”

Your head snapped to look over at him but he had already begun to walk away, his back towards
you so you couldn’t see his, you assumed, rosy cheeks. You heard a chair squeak against the
wooden floor and turned your attention to it only to find Mr. Min staring at you. He had one hand
resting on the back of an empty chair next to him, the one at the very end of the table. The thumb of
his free hand brushed slowly against his lips as he watched you, his brows slightly furrowed and a
dark stare directed your way. You stopped walking and stared back at him, confused by the look he
had given you. He raised one eyebrow slightly and nodded his head towards the empty seat next to
him. You sighed and licked your lips with an obvious roll of your eyes but followed his direction and
took the seat next to him.

As frustrated as you had acted seeing the way he had looked at you, the way he spotted you as soon
as you walked in the door as if he had been watching and waiting, turned that fire in your lower
stomach back on despite how angry you were with him. He removed his hand from the back of your
chair when you sat down, aware of the fact that fifteen other people were sitting in the room and no
one could be sure of where they were looking.

“You were almost late. Seems to be a habit of yours,” he mused with a low voice, his eyes trained on
the notebook you absentmindedly flipped through.

“Forgive me, sir,” you said and sent him a pointed look, “but I think we both know that my tardiness
isn’t entirely my fault.”

One end of his mouth curled as his eyes moved to meet your stare. “I don’t remember you
complaining before.” He cocked an eyebrow at you and slid the hand that wasn’t rubbing his lips
down to your thigh. “So tell me, have you been a good girl and done what I said?” Your mind
blanked at his question and you realized that you had been so distracted by your venting with
Yoojung and Jungkook’s sudden appearance that you had not focused on keeping his cum inside of
you like he ordered. His smirk grew into an impish grin and his nails dug into the soft skin of your
inner thigh. “Tsk tsk. What could have been more important than what I told you to do?” His hand
slipped further under your skirt until you could feel his fingertips brush against your mound just as
your supervisor stood up at the other end of the table.

“Okay, we are going to go ahead and start, I think everyone is here. As you all know we are in the
process of buying-,” she started and you would have desperately liked to hear what she was going to
say but Mr. Min shifted in his chair and casually leaned closer to you. His voice was low, gruff, and
the scent of his rich cologne that was so familiar to you now washed over you just as his breath hit
your ear.

“Go on, spread your legs. You brought this on yourself, dollface.”

Every part of your mind said not to, it raged against him like some kind of feral beast, and yet your
legs spread without a second spared. Your eyes cautiously danced over the faces of those at the table,
at least those you could see while you leaned back in your chair to give Mr. Min more access. His
hands wasted no time in taking advantage of your new position and the space you had graced him
with. His fingers danced over your slit in a cruel tease just as your eyes landed on Jungkook, his eyes
trained on the supervisor as she gave her speech. You tried to focus on what she was saying but
between the sight of Jungkook’s adam’s apple bouncing as he took a sip from his water and Mr.
Min’s digits you couldn’t hear a word.

Mr. Min was turned in his chair so that his back was mostly to you, his eyes were glued on the
supervisor and her speech, but his hand continued to slowly run his fingers over your slit to \cruelly
collect his cum that had leaked out and spread it over you. Honestly at this point you weren’t sure if
it was even his cum that he was spreading or if it was your juices that slowly dripped out of you.
You weren’t even sure if Mr. Min truly cared as long as he had an excuse to use you in front of all
the other employees.

He spread your lips and ran his finger from your entrance to your clit before he began rubbing circles
into your bundle of nerves. You tried to keep your face straight but your breaths stumbled over
themselves with every circle he completed. Some were light and offered you a reprieve but it was
only temporary before his touch turned rough again to catch you by surprise.

You put all of your energy on the notebook in front of you and taking notes for every few words
from your supervisor that you could focus on. Your notes were useless, you knew that, but you
needed to keep up the appearance of being a diligent worker, even if the CEO had just slipped a
finger into you. You took a deep breath as you cast a cursory glance across the table, thankful that at
least the seats across from you and Mr. Min were empty, and willed yourself to remain calm. It was
as if the fire that he had unexpectedly put out just as it was about to explode through you earlier that
day had rushed back to life as soon as his fingers touched you and you were left to try to contain it.

Someone cleared their throat and Mr. Min slapped the inside of your thigh, or as well as he could
with one digit already buried and curled in you. You pulled your eyes away from your useless
doodles and scribbles to notice that everyone’s eyes other than Mr. Min were on you. He still sat
with his body leaned forward, spare arm resting on the table, in what you could see was an attempt to
hide what his hidden hand was doing. You leaned further forward to stare down at your supervisor
who had placed one hand on her hip and cocked her head to the side. “I’m sorry. I must have spaced
out for a minute. What were you saying,” you asked slowly and focused on keeping your voice
steady.

“Jeon Jungkook said he split some of the client files with you to review. Is that right,” she repeated
and the tense edge to her voice told you she wasn’t thrilled with you.

Mr. Min pushed a second finger into you without warning and one of your hands darted under the
table to grip his wrist, a silent plea to be merciful. He ignored it and curled his fingers inside of you
slowly. “Y-Yes, that’s right,” you nodded and hoped you didn’t appear to eager. Your eyes darted to
Jungkook’s seat and saw that he was watching you, his head slightly cocked to the side and an
endearing smile on his face. If Mr. Min’s inappropriate table manners affected your standing at work
it was only fair since you had given him permission, but Jungkook didn’t deserve to have his
reputation put on the line if you couldn’t even focus on the conversation. “We split the files between
the two of us and hope to finish before Monday,” you added and were pleased to hear your voice
sounded stable and steady.

“And you’re both okay with that? It’s going to mean some overtime this weekend,” the supervisor
asked with a raised eyebrow.
Your fingernails dug into Mr. Min’s wrist but he still ignored you. If anything he had started
thrusting his fingers into you faster, his body still turned away from you so his face was hidden. You
bit your lip and willed away the moan you could feel building in your chest before your voice came
out weaker than you intended, “yes, that’s fine. It needs to be done.”

“We’ll try to finish as quickly as we can,” Jungkook said with the slightest of smirks thrown your
way. You would have missed it entirely if you had been able to tear your eyes away from him. You
weren’t allowed to look at Mr. Min, you couldn’t collapse into a puddle in the seat and let him have
his way with you, and, lucky for you, Jungkook happened to be sitting next to the supervisor. It was
easy to dart your eyes back to her when it was needed and otherwise keep your focus on his jawline,
the way his dark hair fell, and his stupid hands that you found you were still not over gawking at.
You could imagine the way they would feel running along your legs, the way they would grip your
ass, cup your breasts, tangle themselves in your hair, and the way they would feel wrapped around
the column of your neck and pressed ever so mindfully into the skin with just enough pressure.

“And you’re fine with the overtime, Mr. Min?” The supervisor had taken her attention away from
you and Jungkook and thrown it his way and yet he remained stoic. His body didn’t flinch and his
hand didn’t cease its movements.
“If it has to be done then there’s no way around it. Just try to keep the overtime short. If you want to
chit chat or flirt then do it on your own time, not mine.” His voice was just a tad deeper than usual
but the gruff tone was still there. He didn’t dare cast a glance your way but you could see Jungkook
staring at him, his cheeks tinged pink and he looked away for a moment before he met your eyes
again. A smug smirk appeared on his face slowly before his lips parted and he released a small
chuckle that was secret other than the way his shoulders jumped. You couldn’t help but return his
smile only for Mr. Min to slam his fingers into you even harder than before. It was nearly brutal,
punishing, and it was all you could do to keep quiet as your breath hitched in your throat. With each
movement of his fingers his palm either rubbed into your clit or slammed against it cruelly as if it was
a punishment. Suddenly his head turned just enough that he could see you in his peripheral view and
said in the same deep voice, “do you think you can handle that?”

Your spare hand joined your other and wrapped around his wrist in a desperate effort to slow him
down but your body only jostled around on the chair more visibly with each thrust. You admitted
defeat and moved your hands to the edge of the table to brace yourself against it and try to still your
body. “Yes,” you said and watched as his eyes narrowed. “Yes, sir,” you corrected yourself and
could feel your cheeks heat from saying that in front of everyone in the department.

He turned away from you again and directed his attention towards Jungkook and the supervisor. “If
they can keep their hands to themselves then it shouldn’t be a problem,” he said and gave another
rough thrust of his fingers. Your lips pursed together to stifle a yelp and afterwards you faked a
cough for good measure.

When your eyes travelled to the other end of the table again you saw that your supervisor had moved
on to talk to someone else but Jungkook’s eyes were still at your end of the table. It was impossible
to distinguish whether he was staring at you or Mr. Min but his stare was stern and unwavering. His
mouth was in a straight line and his brows were furrowed, his chest rose and fell in steady waves,
and it shouldn’t have, but the way his fingers strummed against the table in the same steady rhythm
that Mr. Min’s thrust into you pushed you to the edge.

You leaned back in your seat, an attempt to relax into your orgasm, to spend your energy keeping
quiet and hidden away from all your co workers. Suddenly and cruelly Mr. Min pulled his fingers
from you just as your walls began to clench around him. He wiped his fingers on your skirt with zero
regard for the stain that might appear on the black fabric and cast one smug smirk your way before
he leaned back in his chair. “You look pissed, dollface. Something wrong,” he whispered.

“You are an ass,” you whispered back and pursed your lips as you adjusted your skirt. “A complete
and total ass.”

“Tsk tsk, such a dirty mouth you have. Maybe I should help you fill it again? After all, I still have,”
he said and trailed off but shook his suit jacket pocket and you knew he meant your panties from the
morning.

“Fuck you,” you said with a glare and angrily shifted away from him to fiddle with your notebook.
You heard him chuckle and, if it was possible, you were even angrier after the sound. You scooted
your chair away from him, ignoring the sound it made as it screeched across the wooden floor, and
after a deep sigh turned all your attention to your notebook. The meeting passed slowly as you came
down from your near high, your pen dug and tore into the paper of your notebook endlessly as you
doodled to clear your mind. As soon as the meeting was adjourned you were in a near rush to get out
of the room before he could talk to you.

To your surprise the person who showed up at your desk wasn’t Mr. Min. “So I think he’s onto us,”
Jungkook’s voice said from above you with a light laugh. You pulled your head out of your files to
look up at him and couldn’t stop the small smile that stretched across your face.

“Jeon, I hope you don’t mind but I need to speak to her,” Mr. Min’s voice came from out of
nowhere, harsh and demanding. He had just turned the corner and appeared to be walking with a
slightly rushed gait towards your desk, his eyes only trained on Jungkook, and the smallest of smiles
forced on his face. His arms were crossed in front of his chest until he reached your side and one
hand fell to land on your shoulder. “I need to see you in my office,” he said and finally spared a look
your way.

You tensed just from him being around you but tried to keep your voice as normal as possible, “yes,
Mr. Min.” After one last harsh look you turned back to Jungkook and smiled, “can we finish talking
about this later?”

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” he said and rubbed the back of his neck as he tried not to focus on the
pointed look Mr. Min was sending him. “I’ll come find you when you’re done.”

“Now,” Mr. Min interrupted and dug his fingers into your shoulder but only looked at Jungkook.
You couldn’t control the glare before you had already shot it towards Mr. Min and Jungkook nodded
slowly. He gave a small wave but your eyes were still locked on your boss who, in turn, hadn’t taken
his own off of Jungkook even as he turned and walked away. It wasn’t until you stood up with a jerk
of your shoulders to toss his hand off that he even looked at you. His eyes were dark and the tiny
smile he had when he interrupted the two of you was now gone and only a straight line remained. He
led the way into his office and closed the door behind you. You weren’t shocked to hear the lock
click and were even less surprised to see him close the blinds on his wall of windows.

As soon as the blinds blocked all of the other employees views you snapped. “You have a lot of
fucking nerve thinking you can demand me to come into your office after you have been such an ass
today.”

He smirked as he walked past you to lean against his desk, his hands gripped the edge and his ankles
crossed in front of him. He cocked his head to the side and said with a disbelieving laugh, “and yet
here you are, dollface.”

Your arms locked in front of your chest and you cocked your head to the side and mocked his laugh,
“tell me, do I have a choice? Is this about work or are you just looking to use me and leave me
hanging again?”

“What difference does it make? Wasn’t the agreement that you would come when I called yo-.”

“Fuck your agreement. I didn’t agree to be treated like that and I certainly didn’t agree to have that
happen twice in one day.”

“Are you that angry because I didn’t let you cum, babygirl?”

The way he was leaned so casually against his desk, a slightly demeaning smile on his face, as if he
pitied you, only made you seethe. “Do you need me for something work related or not? Because I
have things I need to finish.”

“Ah, yes, the files that Jeon split with you. How could I forget,” he mused and walked idly towards
his desk chair.

“Yes, work that we’re willing to put in overtime for in order to line your pockets, Mr. Min,” you said
snidely.

“Oh it must be a real inconvenience for you to spend your weekend working with him alone in the
office,” he muttered and rolled his tongue in his cheek as he looked away from you.

“What does that mean?”

He ignored the question and when he turned his attention back to you the annoyed expression had
disappeared from his face and was replaced with the same confident lopsided smile as usual. “Tell
me, are you going to be able to focus on your work with all of that pent up sexual frustration,” he
asked and waved his hand almost dismissively towards your crotch.

“Excuse me,” you scoffed and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s a simple question. How focused can you really be on your work when I’ve left you so high and
dry?”

“Are you implying I can’t do my job because I will be thinking of you too much,” you scoffed again
and rolled your eyes. “You really are unbelievable. Contrary to what you might think if I don’t get
off with you I can handle it on my own time or find someone else who can do it for me.”

You hadn’t intended to make that threat but found yourself too caught up in your frustration with
him. The truth was it had never been fully discussed between the two of you if you both were free to
see other people or not. From a safety perspective it was certainly risky for one or both parties to be
sleeping around outside of the agreement and risk bringing an STD into the relationship but you
weren’t dating and any expectation of monogamy did not come without strictly stating it. He quite
possibly had other women he engaged with and it was certainly unfair of him to expect loyalty when
he couldn’t give even that much to the relationship but threatening him to find release somewhere
else ran the risk that he would permiss it. Worse yet, that he would end the agreement with another
simple and dismissive hand wave, as if it were nothing consequential. You knew that might be for
the best but that masochistic side of you, the one that kept coming back for more though you knew
what he was willing to give was finite, wasn’t quite ready to give up on the possibility of ‘what could
be’. Even though all educated guesses pointed to the same awful ending.

It wasn’t as if you could take the words back and for a few tense moments they hung in the air
around the two of you, suffocating any kind of light that had been in the office. His eyes were glued
to you and they refused to move regardless of how yours danced around the room, as if he was
judging you or contemplating his next move. The brazen and emboldened way you had come into
the office had fizzled and left you to fidget in front of him as he stared coldly. You weren’t the kind
of girl to run from confrontation but you found yourself wishing that you could. It was clear you
were in far too deep. The relationship had turned unhealthy, perhaps even toxic, and the longer you
were in it the worse it would hurt in the end.

He finally spoke and his voice had lost all of its smug and demeaning tone, only the low gruffness
remained. “Do you want me to fuck you or not?”

This was it. It was your chance to get out. All you needed to do was tell him off one more time and
leave the office. Just a few terse words and you could rip off that bandage and leave the wound he
had left in you to fend for itself. You breathed in deeply and without your permission, you were
certain your brain had not betrayed you like this, you sauntered towards him. “That depends. Are
you going to make it worth my while,” you cooed and resolved that you must be a masochist. This is
the last time, you told yourself. This is the last time.

He cocked an eyebrow and leaned forward in his chair to place his hands on your hips and guide
you into his lap. “Then you’re going to have to show me how much you want it,” he said in a cold
voice, one that was a far cry from the cockiness he had shown in the meeting. You settled yourself in
his lap, your skirt pushed up to free your thighs as you lowered your bare core to his crotch. Without
any further instruction your hips rocked against him as his fingers dug into your naked ass as he
whispered in your ear, “do you think you can do that, babygirl?”

You moaned an affirmation into his neck before your lips began kissing their way up the smooth
column. As you planted kisses against his jawline you could feel his hands pull you further into his
lap until the faint bulge of his erection rubbed against you, the heat that had never fully dissipated
from the meeting returned with a roar.

“What did I tell you?” He slapped the bare skin of your ass and listened to you moan into a kiss
against his jaw before he continued. “If I ask you a question I want to hear an answer.”

“Yes sir,” you mewled against him as you rolled your hips against him.

“Do you think you can prove to me how much you want my cock,” he growled and dug his fingers
into the curve of your behind.

“Yes sir,” you said with a whimper. The feeling of his fingers as they grabbed and tugged at your
skin was intoxicating, as if he needed to be able to feel more of you than he ever had before.

“Tell me.” One hand left your ass to grab the hair at the nape of your neck and pulled you back to
look him in the face. “Tell me how much you want my cock. Tell me how much you want me.”

Your hips rolled faster against him as you panted lightly. “I have wanted your cock all day. Since
you fingered me in here earlier I’ve been so angry with you because I couldn’t have it,” you
answered and roamed your hands over his chest.

“Are you that needy, babygirl,” he asked and a hint of his arrogant and smug personality found its
way into his smile. “Have you been so mean to me today because you need my cock that bad?”

His fingers tightened in your hair and you couldn’t control the moan that escaped your lips. “Yes sir.
I need it so bad.”

He watched you writhe on top of him, your lips parted to let tiny whimpers seep out into his
otherwise quiet office, and your cheeks already a shade darker than the rest of your skin. His eyes
raked over you slowly to take in every bit of exposed skin before he spoke again. “Get up,” he said
coldly and tugged on your hair to guide you off of him.

“What’s wrong,” you panted but followed his instructions only to find that once you were off of his
lap his hand didn’t let go of your hair. He disregarded your question and tugged you towards him,
your back pressed against his side and the grip on your hair so tight you couldn’t turn your head to
see what he was doing. You heard papers shuffle and small objects shift around on his desk before
he finally led you to stand in front of him.

His free hand snaked around your waist and pulled you tight against him, your back to his chest and
his head on your shoulder. He tugged your hair harder and forced your head to rest against him and
let his other hand find its way to the buttons of your blouse. He tugged on each button until they
were undone before he would over his hand slowly towards the next one, each movement a subtle
threat daring you to tell him to move quicker. You waited obediently as he slowly opened your
blouse until the panels fell open and exposed the lace of your bra. “Did you wear this for me,” he
whispered into the skin of your exposed collar bone and you couldn’t help the goosebumps that
formed as his lips ghosted over you.

“Who else would I have worn it for,” you asked with a whimper as you followed his silent command
and let the thin fabric of your blouse fall to your feet.
He scoffed and grabbed one of your breasts to dig his fingers in harshly against the sensitive skin.
You gasped and he smiled faintly against your neck. “I wouldn’t know, would I, dollface? As you
said before you could always have someone else get you off when I’m not around.”

“I haven’t done that. I wore them for you,” you answered quickly.

He hummed into your skin and you weren’t sure if he was content with that answer or not. “Maybe
you haven’t but you will,” he said in a tone that you couldn’t distinguish. It wasn’t quite a growl or
in his authoritative voice and you thought you could hear just a twinge of pain but before you could
question it he pushed you down and against his desk. Your chest laid against the cold wood, one of
his hands still buried in your hair, and your own hands splayed across the surface. “What a sight this
is,” he mused and the smug tone was back to displace whatever had been hidden in his voice before.
“You’ve been such an insolent bitch to me today, constantly fighting me at every command I gave
you. It’s nice to see you in your place. All nice and laid out in front of me for me to use.”

You whimpered below him, your cheek pressed against the surface of his desk and in your
peripheral you could see him loosen his tie with his free hand. “You know what you are going to do
for me, dollface? You’re going to show me exactly how much you want me.” You heard the sound
of his belt being unbuckled and it was quickly followed by his zipper being undone. A swift gust of
air blew past your legs and you guessed that it was his pants and underwear falling to his feet. Before
you could speak to ask him what he meant you felt the head of his erection press against your
entrance. He slid his dick over your slit, letting your juices cover him, and if you could’ve seen him
clearly from your position you would’ve noticed the fire in his eyes as he watched his skin slowly
become shiny with your release.

You wiggled your ass to try to give him better access, desperate to finally feel him inside of you after
so many cruel teases but he only chuckled darkly before the hand that was lodged in your hair pulled
on your skull. You followed his lead, not that you had much of a choice, and straightened your arms
to hold your upper body at the angle he had commanded. “You want it that bad that you can’t wait?
Then go ahead, use my cock and fuck yourself. Show me just how desperate you are for me,” he
growled and suddenly his hands had disappeared from you. You were left on his desk, his cock
already pressed against your entrance but no other assistance from him.

You shifted your body to get into a better position for what he was demanding from you and before
you pushed back against him you whined sinfully, “all I want is your cock, sir.” You heard him
grunt and with no other reaction from him you were left to assume it was a positive sound. With no
further words of encouragement or degradation from him you pushed back against his length and
whimpered at the feel of him slowly stretching you out at your own pace. You heard a low exhale
from him and with your eyes closed you could imagine the way he looked, his eyes fixed to where
he was slowly disappearing into you, his fists clenched at his side to resist the urge to slam into you
aggressively, his brow furrowed as he concentrated on the feeling of your heat encompassing him.

His hips pressed against you when you had fully taken him and you moaned at the sensation of being
full, finally. He could’ve snapped his hips, taken the initiative to set the pace, or to make you
whimper and whine for him but he stood still and let you work yourself on him. “Keep going,
babygirl,” he commanded and though his voice was cold and distant the nickname that still felt new
warmed your chest. “I told you, I want you to prove to me how much you want me.” His hand
landed firmly against your ass and you let out a surprised yelp just in time for him to rub the sting out
of your skin. “A good slut would keep going and show me how desperate she is.”

“Yes sir,” you mewled and began thrusting yourself against his length. Your movements were slow
at first as you let your body adjust to his size and the pace allowed you to feel every inch of him
leave and enter your body again. Though the pace was enjoyable for you it was clear that Mr. Min
was having a hard time with the cruel languid motions you were taking. Every time you would pull
away from him he hissed quietly, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Look at you fucking yourself against me like a bitch in heat. Go faster,” he barked and you
followed his orders without a moment’s hesitation. You pushed and pulled against the desk, your
fingers wrapped around the edge opposite of Mr. Min to aid your efforts. It wasn’t easy. It felt
unnatural to move against him without any effort on his part. He offered no real resistance other than
holding his ground and without even his hands touching you it felt almost degrading but it didn’t
even cross your mind to stop. You acted on his commands just as he wanted, responsive and
obedient. “I bet Jeon would love to see you like this, huh? Bent over and so needy that you are
willing to fuck yourself like this. Yeah, he would probably kill to be able to see how much of a slut
you are.”

Later on you would wonder why you hadn’t attempted to question why he would bring up Jungkook
like that but at the time all you could do was moan loudly at his words. The sound of your arousal at
his statement seemed to derail his plans because before you could even complete another thrust
against him one of his hands lodged itself in your hair and pulled you back cruelly. He met you
halfway, his freehand braced him against the desk as he hovered over you, your head rested on his
shoulder as he started ramming himself into you. You cried out at his sudden intrusion and he let
your hair go only for his hand to wrap around your neck.

“You really are a loud bitch today, huh? What’s wrong, babygirl? Do I make you feel too good?”

“Y-Yes sir. You feel s-so good,” you moaned and your tongue stumbled over itself each time he was
buried in you.

“I know I do, dollface. And you know why that is? Do you know why my cock makes you feel so
good that you are willing to fuck yourself against it?”

His fingers tightened against your throat, his thumb and forefingers pressed into the skin with enough
pressure to make your breaths shaky. “N-no sir,” you managed to rasp out.

He chuckled darkly against your ear, his hot breath hit you in the staccato waves before he growled
so low that you hadn’t even realized his voice could be so dark. “It’s because you belong to me. No
one else, not even Jeon himself, can make you feel even close to the way I can. You understand?”

You nodded your head and let out a deep moan. “Answer me,” he spat. “I want to hear you say it.”
His hips rocked into you without mercy, a repetitive and rhythmic slamming of your thighs against
the edge of his desk, but each thrust left you a moaning mess underneath him.

“I belong to you. I only belong to you,” you panted.

“What else, dollface? Say the rest of it,” he whispered into your ear.

You weren’t entirely certain what he was looking for you to say but you pulled out the only thing
you could grasp at while he thrust into you so cruelly. “No one can make me feel as good as you
can.”

“That’s right,” he mused and nuzzled his nose into skin underneath your jawline. He let the sound of
your skin meeting and the pants and moans fill the office for a moment, as if he was considering his
next words carefully. “Who will never make you feel as good as I do,” he finally growled against
your skin.

“Jungkook will never make me feel as good as you do,” you answered without hesitation, certain
that’s what he wanted to hear.

Without warning he growled loudly, it was so animalistic that you were certain it could have been
classified as a roar, before he tossed you down flat against his desk. One of his hands gripped your
hip and his other grabbed the band of your bra across your back and held it like it was reins to
control you with. “That’s fucking right, babygirl. No one is ever going to fuck you like I can. He will
never be able to fuck you like this. Your pussy is mine.”

“Oh my god, sir,” you whined as he thrust into you relentlessly, as if he had something to prove,
something to claim. Your hands searched around his desk for something to ground yourself with but
only found his usual desk materials. Some of them, pencils, pens, scissors, a tape dispenser, a letter
opener, crossed your hands before they were inevitably thrown off the desk to clatter against the
floor.

“What a good little whore you are. Do you like this? Do you like me fucking you across my desk
while I hold onto you with your bra? Like the bitch that you are,” he asked and slapped his hand
against your ass.

“Yes! Please never stop,” you cried and felt the heat inside of you threaten to explode and pour
through every vein in your body.

“I am never going to stop,” he hissed in between exhausted grunts. “You are mine. You belong to
me.” His hand slipped from your ass to your clit and he rubbed circles into you quickly, “cum for
me, babygirl. I want to feel you cum all over my cock.”

His words were like permission your body was waiting for and as soon as they met air your walls
clenched around him. White hot pleasure coursed through your body, through every vein, and if the
cry you released of his name was anything to go by it had been the strongest orgasm you had ever
had. His thrusts didn’t slow as you tightened around him, if anything they sped up in a desperate
chase to reach his own high. Just as he came inside of you he grabbed your shoulder and buried
himself to the hilt in you. You could feel him release in you, feel the heat of his cum as it seeped
through your core, and his ragged breaths ran across the sweat of your back.

You collapsed completely against his desk, your body weak from effort and your climax that had
been building since that morning. It didn’t appear Mr. Min was faring much better, his hands rested
on either side of your body as his breathing tried to stabilize. He pulled out of you eventually but it
was slow and you both groaned at the loss as his body left yours. You rubbed a hand across your
face in exhaustion and felt it sting but thought nothing of it as you pushed yourself off of his desk.
“Oh my god,” you sighed and couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Don’t sound so surprised, dollface,” he laughed as he dressed himself again. He grabbed your
blouse off the floor and turned to you but his mouth dropped slightly. “You’re bleeding,” he
whispered as his eyes raked over you.

“What?”

“Your face. There’s blood on your cheek. Where are you bleeding from,” he asked and threw your
blouse over the back of his chair as he closed the distance between you. He grabbed your wrists and
flipped your hands so the palms were exposed only for you both to see a cut on your left hand. “Here
it is,” he sighed and his shoulders relaxed as he set you down in his chair. “Sit here, I have a first aid
kit in my desk.”

You couldn’t control your laugh as it rang out from you, deep and hearty. “You have a first aid kit in
your desk?”
 “What’s so funny about that,” he asked with a scowl thrown over his shoulder as he rummaged
through his desk drawers.

“It just seems awfully,” you paused and focused on your hand as you tried to find the right words,
“practical for you.”

He closed his desk drawer and kneeled on the floor in front of you as he fingered through the
contents to find the right supplies. “I would think with this agreement that you would realize I’m a
practical man,” he muttered and instantly the warmth you had been feeling in your chest settled into
the same usual bundle of self hatred. This was the last time, you reminded yourself. This was the last
time. “Anyways with how many papers I have to sort through or sign in a day you would be
surprised by the amount of paper cuts I get. It’s a lot more,” he paused and let out a chuckle as he
chose his words, oblivious to your deflated state, “practical for me to keep a kit here versus going
across the work floor to the break room every time I need a bandage.”

You sat silently and watched as his slender fingers wrapped around your wrist to pull your hand to a
position that he could tend to. He tore open a sterile wipe and cleaned the blood off your hand
delicately, careful to avoid the gash. His actions were slow and deliberate, always mindful of
stretching the skin too tight or pressing too hard into your palm. His brows furrowed as he spread
ointment over the cut and when he finally secured the bandage across your palm you had been so
caught up in watching him that you hadn’t even noticed he had finished.

He secured his supplies back in his first aid kit and when he looked back at you his cheeks
immediately tinted pink. “Uh, I hope you don’t mind this. I don’t have another sterile wipe or
anything,” he whispered as he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and brought it to his mouth.
You watched as his tongue dipped out to lick the white fabric before he brought it to your cheek and
gently, with a tenderness that you hadn’t experienced from him before, wiped away the blood that
had smeared across your face. When he was finished his eyes locked with yours and neither of you
said anything. Silence encompassed you and when your lips parted his eyes dipped to them where
they lingered for a few moments before he cleared his throat. “I, uh, I guess you should be getting
back to work,” he muttered.

“Right,” you agreed and hastily put your blouse back on. Anytime you tried to meet his gaze again
he looked away from you, the rosy color of his cheeks evident no matter how he tried to hide it. The
air in the office was tense, heavy with things that were unsaid, but you feared that bringing up even
the blush on his cheeks would only resort in him reminding you that it means nothing. You didn’t
need to be reminded, you knew your hope was misplaced. You didn’t want to be that foolish girl
who pined after someone who only saw her as good for one thing. It was best if you kept your head
on your shoulders and out of the clouds. After all, this was the last time.

Chapter End Notes

Originally posted on Tumblr by ellieljade as Chapter 02

 Chapter 03
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

If you saw one more vanilla folder you were going to physically tear out your own eyeballs. When
you had agreed to help Jungkook with the overtime work you were not in your right mind, clearly.
You could be in bed, nursing a hangover from a bottle of wine and eyes puffy from crying over a
melodrama, but there you were in the same old office only now it was nearly empty, save for the
other poor souls who had agreed to overtime work on their weekend. Sure, time and a half was nice
but if you were being completely honest with yourself you knew the real reason you had agreed was
because of Jungkook, or more specifically, the distraction he could offer from Mr. Min.

There was one thing about working on the weekends you were grateful for and that was the lax dress
code. Jungkook had walked in that morning dressed entirely in black from the beanie on his head to
the boots on his feet. His face had been mostly obscured by a black face mask and a large scarf
wrapped around his neck but you had noticed him immediately, not that your eyes were trained on
the elevator door or anything. And in a cruel twist of fate as soon as the doors to the elevator opened
his eyes met yours, as if the first thing on his mind when he got to work was you. You felt your
cheeks heat under his stare and you looked down at your folders as quickly as you could but not
before you noticed that he was wearing a black leather jacket that completely conflicted with the
sweet Jungkook who had asked you on a date.

There were so few people in the office that you could hear his footsteps along the wooden floor as
they neared you but you refused to look up at him until you absolutely had to. A desperate ploy to
buy your skin time to cool. “I thought you might need this,” he said when he had finally reached the
front of your desk. You pulled your eyes up him slowly, hoping the extra second or two would hide
any blush, and found that he had pulled his face mask half way off so it was dangling by an ear and
extended from his hand was a coffee cup.

“You got this for me?”

He smiled and looked around the floor before his dark eyes focused back on you. “Unless you see
someone else here who agreed to go on a date with me,” he said and shook the coffee cup gently.

You couldn’t stop your smile as it stretched across your lips and you were not oblivious to the heat
on your cheeks. “Oh, you buy coffee for all the girls who agree to a date,” you asked with a playful
tone and took the coffee from his hand.

He chuckled and took his face mask off of the ear it dangled from and shoved it in his jacket pocket.
“Well let’s just say this is the first time I’ve shown up with an extra coffee to work.”

“Oh?” You cocked an eyebrow at him and your smile turned into a smirk. “So you get rejected
often?”

He laughed heartily as he removed his scarf from around his neck and you tried not to focus on his
hands and the way his fingers worked the fabric. He hummed while he thought, “how do I say this
delicately?” Before you knew what was happening he had leaned over your desk, his face was mere
inches from yours and his eyes were locked with your own. In a low voice, as if he didn’t want his
voice to carry through the nearly empty room lest someone overhear, “I only ask out pretty girls and
so far this office seems to be lacking in that department.”
Your smirk dropped and you were certain your cheeks were a brilliant pink under his gaze. Your lips
parted as you tried to speak, to say anything at all. His eyes flashed down to your mouth and the hint
of pink tongue he could see. He pulled himself away quickly and rubbed the back of his neck
bashfully as you took a sip of the coffee. “Oh my god, this is so good,” you practically moaned
before taking another sip.

His cheeks flushed rose and his smile turned lopsided before he licked his lips. “It’s from a bakery
about four blocks away from here. You probably pass it on the way from the subway but it’s a hole-
in-the-wall kind of place.”

“Oh! With the pink and white sign outside, right?”

He nodded and smiled at your enthusiasm, “that’s the one. My brother’s girlfriend is one of the
bakers there so I stop by sometimes and grab coffee. I figured with the overtime and having to come
in on the weekend that you might need a little pick me up.”

Your stomach fluttered and a lightness found its way into your chest. He had thought about you in a
way that you had only dreamed Mr. Min would. You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your
face and looked down at the coffee to keep him from seeing. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

“Ah, don’t do that,” he groaned in a playful voice and when you looked back up at him he was
rubbing the back of his neck again like a nervous habit as his lips pulled into a confident smirk. “If
you blush so much just from that it’s going to make my imagination run crazy with thoughts of what
you look like when,” he started but bit his lip and looked away from you as if to clear his mind. Just
as you were about to say something he turned back to you, his tongue darted across his lower lip as
he looked at you one more time before he smiled again, “I’ve gotta go to my desk and work if I plan
on getting to take you on this date.” You nodded and he waved before walking away. You could
hear, just under his breath, him mutter, “it shouldn’t be possible for her to look that cute just because
she blushes. Pull it together, Jeon.”

It was hard to focus on getting any work done during the day. Your mind kept drifting to thoughts of
Mr. Min and how odd it felt to be in the office when he wasn’t there. You half expected to catch a
glimpse of him at his desk anytime you looked over your shoulder but, of course, that was all in your
head. You hadn’t spoken to him since he had you bent over his desk and after his repeated
commands for you to fill his ego concerning Jungkook it was hard to fathom any reason why he
would need that assurance if not that the infatuation was mutual. Your mind was filled with ‘what
if’s’ and ‘maybes’.

Of course it was also impossible to keep your eyes from wandering over to Jungkook’s desk across
the work floor. He was a diligent worker, not that you had really noticed it before, but his head had
been buried in his work the whole day. You wouldn’t admit it but you had hoped that you might
catch him stealing looks at you throughout the day. He didn’t seem to notice when you left your desk
to go to the break room for lunch and a not-so-insignificant part of you had hoped he would eat
lunch with you.

Luckily Yoojung was already in the break room sipping on an iced coffee and eating a donut while
she scrolled through her phone. You retrieved your lunch from the fridge before you plopped down
in the seat next to her with a gruff, “what are you doing here on the weekend?”

“You think I gave all of the files to Jungkook? Please. He's only been working here for two weeks, I
took a huge part of them before I passed some off to him and sent him on his merry little way
towards you. So I'm here working through them just like you two are.”

You nodded and pointed to her donut, “if you keep eating like that you’re going to gain weight.”
Yoojung giggled and eyed your sensible salad (dressing on the side, of course) before she met your
eyes. “I would be grouchy too if that was what I was eating.” She turned to face you as she tore off a
part of her donut and held it out for you. You shook your head and stuffed a mouthful of lettuce into
your mouth with a forced grin. “What? Are you on a diet? Or are you just too good for my donut,”
she asked with an exaggerated pout and tossed the pastry into her mouth.

“Of course I’m on a diet. I thought you were too. I just assumed we all were.”

“Why? Because of the party on Tuesday?” Yoojung laughed and took another bite of her donut.
“Look, I’m going for the free booze but I don’t need to lose weight and look my best when it’s just
going to be a party for the company. It will be all of these same losers that we see every day, the only
difference is they will be in some banquet hall instead of here and will be toasting to the twenty five
years the company has been in business. I’m hardly interested in starving myself for these fools.”

“You say that but you’ve dated a few of those fools,” you said with a smile and nudged her shoulder.

“Uh, more than a few, thank you. If you’re going to call me out on it then at least give me proper
credit. That’s why I know they’re all fools. Or most of them at least,” she said the last part in a much
quieter tone before turning back to you with a smirk on her face. “Besides, it looks like I’m not the
only one dipping my pen in the company ink. It looks like you are going for that high grade, top
shelf ink,” she said with a smirk.

“What? Pen in the company ink?”

“I heard it on a show once,” she laughed and waved her hand dismissively. “The point being I think
I know who you were talking about in the bathroom the other day. If he’s anything in bed like he is
when he’s reprimanding people, then you’re right, he’s a total ass.”

You choked on your salad and stared at her with wide eyes. “Yoojung!”

She laughed again and took a sip of her iced coffee as she looked around the empty break room.
“Relax! Who is going to hear me? Besides, it’s not like I can blame you. He’s hot in that angry kind
of way. If I had the chance I’d probably sleep with him too. Well, other than the fact that he’s
apparently an ass.” You sighed and gave her a pointed look as you stabbed your fork into your salad.
You hadn't wanted anyone to know about Mr. Min and certainly not to discuss it so openly at work
where anyone could overhear. “Alright, sheesh, I get it. You don't want to give me all the juicy
details, that's fair, I'll remember that the next time you want me to regale you with details from my
sordid love life.”

“That's not it,” you said and dropped your voice to a whisper even though no one was in the room
with the two of you. “I just don't want anyone to know about it. And he doesn't either!”

“Well then he should do a better job of hiding it,” Yoojung snorted.

“What do you mean?”

“I think everyone suspects what is happening to some degree. He pulls you into his office all the time
and at first it could be written off as you being reprimanded for a poor performance at work. Now it's
just become so obvious. If that was what he was pulling you in for you would have been fired long
ago.” Yoojung took another sip of her coffee as she watched you process the information. “I think
everyone knows, honestly. What are they going to do though? Accuse the CEO of sleeping with his
adult employee? It's probably immoral and certainly unfair but who is going to fire him?”

“Everyone?” Your mouth was agape as you thought back on the hushed voices that followed you
around the office, particularly after you came from his office. Yoojung nodded absentmindedly as
she finished off her donut, as if your mind wasn't reeling. “Jungkook knows?”

Yoojung met your eyes then and frowned before she turned her attention to brushing the crumbs left
from her donut off the table. “I think he does.”

You sighed and rubbed your forehead in frustration. It wasn't as if you hadn't thought of the
possibility of people suspecting something was amiss between you and the CEO but you hadn't
expected people to be certain of it. You weren't sure how to proceed. Should you be ashamed and
embarrassed in front of everyone? Perhaps being bold and unforgiving about it was better? As
Yoojung said, it wasn't as if someone could easily fire Mr. Min for sleeping with an employee. Not
that that necessarily protected your job.

“So are you dating him?”

You scoffed and stabbed your fork into your salad again. “Hardly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that it's just sex,” you whispered and once again glanced around the room just to be certain
no one could overhear.

“So you just meet up when one of you is horny?”

You sighed again and couldn't help the shame that swept over you. You hadn't mentioned the details
of your relationship with anyone but couldn't imagine anyone less likely to judge you. “More like he
contacts me when he wants sex. I don't even have his phone number.”

“You don't even go on dates or anything like that?”

“I already asked him on a date when this first started and he made it very clear that he was only
interested in sleeping with me. He makes that abundantly clear all the time.”

Yoojung sat in silence for a moment while she stared at the table as if she was deep in thought. “Can
I give you a piece of advice? Friend to friend? Office slut to office slut?”

Your head snapped back to Yoojung with a fierce look. “Excuse me?”

She smiled broadly and nudged your shoulder. “Relax it was a joke. Besides, if we are office sluts at
least we are in each other's company.” You returned her smile though it wasn't nearly as broad as
hers. “Just be careful okay?”

“Careful of what? It's not like he's violent or anything.”

“No, that's not what I mean. It's just that it would be hard to fire him because of his position but you
are another story. If things don't end well then you are expendable. And when I gave you that advice
in the bathroom about finding someone else, well I didn't think that the ass you were talking about
was the boss.”

You laughed if for no other reason than to try to assuage her fears. “Don't worry, he has no idea you
know about it and it's not like I'm going to tell him. He doesn't want anyone to know about our
agreement.”

“As comforting as that might be it wasn't exactly what I was meaning.” Yoojung sighed and ran a
hand through her hair before she focused back on you. “I’m not worried about my job. When I
passed off those files to a certain new co-worker I didn’t expect that I was putting him in harm’s
way.”

“Harm’s way?”

“I can’t really judge you for choosing to take the risk that comes with sleeping with your boss but
when I sent a certain doe eyed, love sick, little puppy your way I didn’t think I was pushing him to
put his job on the line too. If you want to play fast and loose with your job then no one can stop you
but I didn’t know that the guy you were trying to get over was a blonde haired boss with a passion
for reprimanding people. I just don’t want Jungkook to be putting his job at risk just to be your
rebound.” It was odd seeing Yoojung be so serious without a joke thrown into it somewhere.

“I don’t think he’s at risk,” you said and even to you it sounded weak. You tried to keep a blank face
while the memories of being bent over Mr. Min’s desk started to have a darker meaning. He was
blatantly trying to get you to admit that he was better than Jungkook and hadn’t he also threatened to
fire anyone who hit on you? Suddenly the hopes of Mr. Min sharing in your infatuation faded and
were replaced with a newfound worry for Jungkook.

Yoojung nodded slowly and sighed heavily, “that’s what I thought.” She gathered her belongings
and stood up to walk away before she paused and turned back to you. “All I’m asking is that if you
do go on a date with the kid just make sure it’s worth risking his job. Don’t do it just as a rebound or
way to get over you-know-who.”

“How do you know he asked me on a date?”

Yoojung smiled and gave you a look full of pity. “Maybe you’ve just been blinded by your,” she
said and paused to think of an appropriate word, “relationship but he’s been interested in you since I
introduced him on his first day. Some days I wonder if he spends more time watching you or actually
working. I thought that when I suggested he ask you for help with those folders that you would go
on a date to get your mind off of you-know-who, maybe even sleep with him, and if the kid was
really lucky you might actually fall for him. Of course, I thought that the guy you were trying to
forget about was just some random asshole on the street, not reigning asshole king of the company. I
didn’t think I was setting him up to risk his job for a rebound fuck.”

“Jeez, you know how to avoid sounding crass, huh?” You laughed at the sarcastic statement but
couldn’t ignore the tightness in your chest. You had never noticed Jungkook giving you more
attention than anyone else in the office and, truth be told, you hardly even remembered being
introduced to him. You hadn’t considered that his flirting had been anything more than the result of a
newfound infatuation, not something he had been considering since he met you.

Yoojung smiled but it seemed tight, as if it was forced and she was biting back what she truly wanted
to say. She began to walk away but stopped once she reached the door to the breakroom. “Just
promise me you will give it some serious thought, okay? He may not fully realize the risk he’s taking
by getting closer to you and I feel responsible for setting him up for it.”

It was hard not to feel like you were being scolded, like a child whose parent was disappointed in
them, but you couldn’t argue with her logic. You hadn’t considered the possibility of Mr. Min
retaliating because he had made it clear that he didn’t care if you broke the agreement. Of course, that
was before he had gotten so possessive the last time you had sex. Yoojung waited at the door, her
eyes laid on you expectantly as she waited for you to acknowledge her request. “I promise, Yoojung.
I’ll be careful for his sake and give it some serious thought.”

She nodded and left you alone in the breakroom to get lost in your own thoughts. It had all seemed
so much more simple before your talk with her. Jungkook was a very nice and fairly flirtatious guy
who would be the perfect person to help you move on from Mr. Min but you had never once
considered whether his job security would be on the line. In fairness, you hadn’t thought that Mr.
Min would even care that you were interested in someone else other than the burden it placed on him
to finding another girl to use.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of vanilla folders, worksheets, and computer screens. Frequently
you found yourself staring at a paper or your computer screen and not truly seeing it at all. Your
mind drifted to Jungkook, Mr. Min, and Yoojung’s lecture more often than you would’ve liked but at
the end of the day you had found that all those moments of contemplation yielded no answers. You
weren’t sure how to proceed, whether to cancel your date and whatever was happening between you
and Jungkook or to continue on and go ahead and end things with Mr. Min before he had more time
to retaliate. It was small consolation that Jungkook was so focused on his work that he didn’t notice
when you packed up your belongings and left. Not that you could keep your eyes off of him
anyways.

The next morning came too quickly for your liking and as you exited the subway you suddenly
remembered Jungkook’s coffee from the morning before and how delicious it had tasted. Something
about the hot beverage in the cute little white and pink coffee cup had made you feel brighter, up
until your lunch with Yoojung. With a faster pace you made your way to the pink and white sign
above the bakery and hoped you wouldn’t be late because of the stop.

The inside of the bakery was just as cute as the sign that hung over the door. The walls were a pale
pink, the case that held all the baked goods was directly across from the door, and on the two small
tables in the tiny store were white doilies. It screamed femininity, oozed softness from every surface,
and the thought of Jungkook with his large hands and dark street clothes frequenting such a gentle
and womanly establishment made you smirk. It wasn’t until you were already in line and eyeing a
picture on the wall of a delicious looking muffin that you heard his voice. “Thanks! I’ll see you guys
tomorrow morning.”

Your eyes widened immediately as you snapped your head towards the front of the line. There he
was, dressed in all black again. In fact, it looked as if he was wearing the same clothes he had been
the day before and you almost opened your mouth to tease him about it but Yoojung popped into
your head. Her request had been genuine and mature. It was only fair that you respected her wishes
until you knew what exactly you wanted to happen between you and Jungkook. After all, engaging
with him any more than you already had could lead to consequences that he hadn’t even considered.
Without any further thought you raised your shoulders in an attempt to hide as much of your face as
possible and slouched behind the man in front of you. You hoped that he would walk right past you,
completely oblivious, and yet the flash of the man in black never passed by you.

“What are you doing?” His voice called you and even with your view squarely on the back of the
man in front of you it was clear that he was smiling. You turned towards him slowly and stood up
straight. It was impossible not to notice that he was carrying two coffees in his hands and his smile
looked amused, as if you had done something impossibly cute.

“Sorry, I was just,” you started but realized you didn’t have an excuse for hiding from him. “I
couldn’t get the thought of their coffee out of my head,” you said quickly, anything to get the
attention away from why you had ducked behind a stranger.

“Really? I told you it was great.” He nodded and looked around the bakery as if he was proud of the
place before he turned back to you and held one of the coffees towards you. “Actually I already
bought you one. I was just planning on giving it to you at the office again.”

Dammit. Why was he so cute and kind? It would be a cold day in hell before Mr. Min surprised you
with coffee one morning, let alone twice in a row. You tried not to blush but you could feel your
cheeks heat as you grabbed onto the coffee. “Oh, thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s the least I could do since you agreed to help me with all the work.” The
line moved forward and you took a step with the crowd closer to the counter. “What are you doing?
Come on, let’s get to work. We can walk together.”

“Oh, I was just going to, uh, get something to eat too,” you said in a rush and hoped the lie wasn’t
obvious. “You go on ahead and I’ll see you at work.”

“Don’t be silly. If you’re going to eat something from here then you’re going to need my expertise,”
he said with that same genuine smile and stood next to you in line to look towards the case full of
baked goods. He smelled earthy, like a mixture of sandalwood and musk, and as he pointed to a
platter of cookies in the case you couldn’t help but notice his hands again. You had never had some
kind of a hand fetish before but it seemed you were completely in new territory with Jungkook. The
veins that snuck out from the sleeve of his leather jacket snaked around his wrist and down the back
of his hand. It was all you could do to force yourself to close your eyes and focus on his words. “Of
course, no one should eat cookies for breakfast but if you don’t tell then I won’t either,” he joked and
when you opened your eyes you noticed he was focused on you again. Your traitorous cheeks
heated again and his ever present smile turned to a smirk before he continued. “Their scones are great
too, if you are a scone person. They also have donuts, a few different flavors actually.”

The line moved forward steadily as he recounted his favorite items and by the time you reached the
counter you were practically drooling from all the fantastic choices he had listed. “What’s your
favorite then, Mr. Expert,” you said with a playful smile.

The cashier looked between the two of you and raised an eyebrow when she landed back on
Jungkook. It was clearly a silent question and by the frown on her face you couldn’t help but assume
it was also a judgement. “Hmm, my favorite is probably the chocolate donut,” he said with pursed
lips, as if he was busy running through all the food in his head.

You turned back towards the cashier only to catch her staring at Jungkook with bright eyes. “Okay,
I’ll take the chocolate donut then,” you said and winced slightly as she threw a judgemental look
your way. It was becoming all the more obvious that Jungkook might be a better person than you.
He probably was not the type to willingly become someone’s play toy just to receive some kind of
affection from them. He was liked by everyone and diligent at work. While his goodness seemed to
shine brightly in your eyes it pissed you off that a cashier who didn’t know the first thing about you
had been so quick to discover that you were certainly not in the same league as him. “Two chocolate
donuts, actually. You’ll eat with me, won’t you, Kookie? And walk me to work?” Your voice was
higher, flirtatious, and you couldn’t help yourself from throwing in the cute nickname.

His cheeks blazed red almost immediately, the smirk all but disappeared from his face only to be
replaced by a shy smile and a small nervous laugh. “Yeah, of course I will,” he said and rubbed the
back of his neck, that same nervous habit that was quickly becoming adorable to you. “Two of those,
Yoobin. Thanks,” he said to the cashier and started to pull out his wallet.

“No, absolutely not. You already were going to surprise me with coffee for the second day in a row.
This is my treat,” you said and nudged his shoulder with a quick glance to the speechless cashier.
You placed your bills on the counter and gave her a saccharine smile but were pulled away when
Jungkook laughed. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re a bit older than me,” he said with another chuckle.

“What? How do you know that?”

You watched as the cashier, Yoobin, smirked and bit her lip to keep from laughing as she grabbed
the donuts and handed them to each of you. “Enjoy,” she said smugly and Jungkook waved to her
while you continued to stare dumbfounded at him.

“Your ID was in your wallet. I checked it while you got the money to pay.” He cleared his throat
before he leaned down and whispered into your ear, “it’s okay, I like older women.” You couldn’t
control it, you had no hope to, and your cheeks heated immediately. As soon as you were outside the
building Jungkook turned on you with a raised eyebrow. “Kookie?” His own cheeks were still
tinged pink even though he tried to act cocky about it.

“What? Do you like the name,” you asked and found yourself staring at the ground to keep him from
seeing the flush on your face. For some reason the talk of the nickname reminded you that you
weren’t even sure of Mr. Min’s first name. Everyone called him CEO Min or Mr. Min and you had
never bothered to learn what his given name was. You started to wonder if he had any nicknames
but reminded yourself that he wouldn’t let you know that information anyways. The man had never
even told you his first name even after all the times he had cum in you. You stared up at Jungkook
and chuckled at his flustered state as he desperately tried to hide it. One thing was certain, it was
unlikely that Mr. Min would blush if you called him by a nickname.

“Actually it’s the name my older friends call me when they want to remind me of my age.” You
nodded and were about to make a joke about how you should continue the tradition but he spoke
first and when you looked at him his eyes were already on you, the pink gone from his cheeks and
the cocky smirk back on his face. “I have to admit, it sounds a lot better when you say it though.”

You weren’t sure if he was waiting for you to respond or not but he kept that smirk trained on you
and all you could do to keep your promise to Yoojung, one that you had let slip from your mind as
soon as the cashier had judged you not to be good enough for him, was to take a huge bite of your
donut. “It’s good,” you tried to say in between bites, desperate to keep yourself from flirting with him
anymore than you already had.

“They are, aren’t they? Be sure to drink your coffee. It’s awfully cold this morning and it will help
keep you warm.”

You nodded and Jungkook watched as you tried to take a sip of the coffee only to pull away quickly.
“It’s still too hot,” you said with a pout.

“Ah, yeah, I suppose it still would be. Here, hold my stuff for a minute,” he said and handed his
coffee and donut out towards you without further explanation. You struggled to work out a way to
hold all of it but somehow managed only for him to step in front and stop so that he was facing you.
He started playing with the black scarf around his neck and your traitorous eyes were drawn to his
hands again. You watched the way his long fingers worked and pulled at the fabric to untie it from
his neck and just as he had completely freed the scarf your eyes met his again. He was watching you,
the confident smirk was back and you suddenly became all too aware that your mouth was parted
slightly in awe of his stupid hands. It was entirely embarrassing and you would’ve apologized
immediately if not for the fact that his hands reached out for you.

Without speaking a word he wrapped the scarf around your neck, his warmth still woven into the
fabric, and tied it gently around your neck. You would have liked to pull your eyes away from him
but the intensity of his eye contact, the way he stared directly at you with no sense of shame or
bashfulness, was far too intoxicating. The earthy scent of him surrounded you again and it felt as if
you could willingly drown in it. He removed his beanie and placed it gently on your head and only
broke eye contact long enough to position your hair under his hat. Immediately you felt warmer and,
sure, maybe it could be blamed on the two coffees you now held in your hands, or maybe on the
clothing he had dressed you in, but you were sure your face was on fire.

He had to have noticed, you reasoned, because there was no way he couldn’t have ignored the way
your eyes remained on him as if you were a deer in the headlights. It was as if you were completely
pliable in front of him, absolutely submissive and there hadn’t been a hint of anything sexual. One of
his hands trailed from his beanie on your head and you noticed his eyes had settled on your mouth
and the cocky smirk hadn’t left his face. You wanted to move, wanted to keep your promise to
Yoojung, but your feet didn’t cooperate. You felt that all too familiar tightening in your lower
stomach, something you hadn’t felt for someone else other than Mr. Min in months, and your body
refused to move. His thumb swiped across the edge of your mouth and ran under your lower lip
slowly before he held it up for you to see a brown mark on his digit. “You had a little chocolate
there,” he said in the husky voice you hadn’t heard him use since he walked you into the staff
meeting and your eyes turned dreamy as they trained on his thumb. He brought it to his mouth and
his pink tongue snuck out from his lips to lick against his skin and rid it of the chocolate. When he
lowered his thumb back to his side his lopsided smile had only grown and you slowly returned your
gaze to his eyes only to find that he hadn’t stopped watching your reaction.

You were incredibly close to throwing the coffee and donuts to the ground and throwing yourself at
him in the middle of the sidewalk. You didn’t care about all the bystanders. You would have to
apologize to Yoojung because you didn’t even bother to consider her request, didn’t spare a second
thought for Mr. Min, for who might see you throw yourself at the younger man, and you would have
if he hadn’t made the first move. He reached out and wrapped his hand around his coffee, his fingers
grazed against your own for longer than needed. You gulped like some kind of pathetic cartoon
character, audible and obvious, as they were ensnared in some villain’s trap, and willed him to kiss
you but he merely took his coffee and donut from you. “I suppose we should head into work, huh?”
Gone was the husky edge to his voice and you felt like you had stumbled, like you were a step
behind him and struggling to catch up to reality.

“R-r-right. Yeah, we are going to be late,” you muttered and nodded. You couldn't dare look over at
him as you walked down the street though out of the corner of your eye you could see him sneaking
glances at you as he ate his donut. You felt like a middle schooler due to the furious blush of your
face and all because a guy dressed you in his clothes so that you would keep warm. It took an entire
block for you to calm yourself down enough to speak again and it was the last thing that you wanted
to say, especially when his scent was still so present on his scarf and beanie. You closed your eyes
for a brief moment, long enough to compose yourself and think of Yoojung’s lecture, before you
could properly speak. “Jungkook,” you started.

“What? No “Kookie” this time,” he asked with a smile, the skin around the edges of his eyes
creased.

You smiled without thinking about it, it was so easy to return his grins, it was like they were
infectious. “Not this time. Jungkook, I need to be honest with you,” you said and you watched as he
stopped smiling and turned back to look ahead at the sidewalk in front of him.

“Okay. What about?”

“When I said I would go on a date with you I wasn't entirely forthcoming with where I'm at right
now. The truth is I am kind of,” you said and found you didn't have a word to describe your
relationship with Mr. Min properly other than “fucking” and it hardly seemed appropriate, “seeing
someone.”

He nodded slowly and sighed, “someone at work, right?”

You weren't sure if you should be shocked or not. After all, Yoojung said she suspected he knew
more than he let on. “Yes. How did you know that?”

“Rumors at work. Can I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“Are you actually seeing him?”

You turned to stare at him but he refused to look your way. His mouth was in a straight line and from
where you stood you could tell his gaze was hard and fierce but directed at nobody in particular.
“What do you mean?”

“The rumors at work are just that, of course, and they could be complete lies but they aren't about
you dating him. The rumor is that you are his,” he said and cleared his throat as if he wasn't sure
whether to say what he was thinking, “plaything, for lack of a better word.”

You could feel your cheeks heat again except this time it had nothing to do with Jungkook and was
caused solely by shame. You tried to remind yourself that you and Mr. Min were adults and if you
wanted that kind of a relationship you shouldn't be judged by anyone for it yet you couldn't bring
yourself to look at Jungkook anymore. “Oh. I suppose that's probably a better way to put it,” you
muttered.

“So you aren't with him then?”

“No.”

“Then there's nothing wrong with me taking you on a date?” He finally looked at you and his smirk
was back. It was as if he hadn't understood anything you had been trying to tell him.

“Well I guess not but you know who I'm talking about right?”

His smirk faded again and he turned away from you to stare at the company’s building as it grew
closer. “I have my suspicions,” he finally said lowly.

“Then you know that he holds a lot of power in the company?”

Jungkook scoffed, “to say the least.”

“So aren't you the slightest bit worried about being so close to me? What if you get punished or lose
your job if he gets upset about you hanging around?”

“Oh,” he laughed and turned to look at you again, “so that's what this is about. You are worried
about me.”

“Well Yoojung brought it up to me yesterday and I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“Ah, and that's the reason you avoided me at the bakery. And, let me guess, is that why you left
work so quickly yesterday?” As he spoke his smile grew wider, as if things were suddenly becoming
clear.

“What? You noticed that? I thought you didn’t see me!”

He laughed heartily and took a sip of his coffee before sighing, “you underestimate how much I pay
attention to you. I’ve gotta admit I was a little perturbed that you left so early while I was working
hard to make sure I could finish my portion of the files with enough time to take you out tonight but
now that I know you were trying to protect me.” His voice trailed off and a small smile stretched
across his lips.

You nudged his shoulder and smiled, “well it is a good thing Yoojung is looking out for you because
you clearly aren't concerned with your job security.”

“I wouldn't say I'm not concerned. It's more like I don't think there's reward without risk.” You
forced yourself to control your smile and focus on the building just up the block. “And as much as I
appreciate Yoojung caring enough about me to be concerned like that I’d really appreciate it if she
didn't cause you to worry about things I'm fully capable of handling. After all, her worrying you
almost caused us not to meet at the bakery this morning and, if we hadn't, then I wouldn't have gotten
to see you in my scarf and beanie.” He leaned in closer to you and whispered, “they look good on
you by the way.” Then he pulled away from you again and held up the last bite of his donut before
he tossed it into his mouth, “and I probably wouldn't have gotten a chocolate donut for breakfast.
And I definitely wouldn't have gotten the chance to walk to work with you.”

You wished that you had some kind of witty remark to come back with but it was all you could do to
try to keep your smile from stretching ear to ear. It seemed that anytime you were with Jungkook you
were either smiling or willing your cheeks to not set ablaze in front of him. It was a merciful reprieve
when you entered the building together and spotted Yoojung, a seeming end to the flirtation. She
stood in front of the elevator as she stretched her neck, her long silky black hair swung back and
forth, and as soon as you stood next to her she smiled. That was until she eyed Jungkook next to
you. “Showing up at work together already? How long before the wedding,” she asked and though it
was a joke the way her eyes bore into you told you she wasn’t happy.

“We happened to run into each other at a bakery we both stopped at for coffee,” Jungkook answered
and held up his coffee as if it was proof. “So I, being the gentleman that I am, offered to walk her to
work.”

“That’s awfully nice of you, Jeon,” a gruff voice said from behind you and when you turned around
the sight of Mr. Min so close to you with Jungkook standing there made your breath stutter in your
throat.

Yoojung grabbed your hand and without even looking at her you knew her eyes were as wide as
your own. It appeared that Mr. Min and Jungkook were oblivious as neither one of them spared a
look at either of you. They were locked in a stare with each other that seemed more aggressive than
was necessary while waiting for the elevator. Mr. Min held a black garment box in his hand. It was
tied with a white ribbon but as far as you could see there was no tag or label affixed to it. You
wanted to ponder who Mr. Min would buy a present for but the situation at hand had all your
attention.

“So is the coffee good? Here let me try yours,” Yoojung practically shouted and grabbed your coffee
with her spare hand. Everyone in the lobby turned to stare at her as she downed the rest of your
coffee though you were sure it had to have been much too hot to be comfortable. “Oh, that's good,”
she squeaked out and squeezed your hand in an expression of pain as she winced.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened and Yoojung practically pulled you in with her. When
Jungkook and Mr. Min filed in it somehow ended up with you standing in between them, shoulder to
shoulder, and Yoojung behind you, her hands clutching at your coat. You stared at the floor until the
elevator closed and when you raised your eyes you could see Mr. Min staring harshly at you in the
reflection of the metal doors. You wanted to pull your eyes away but it was as if you forgot how to
move, how to look anywhere other than his reflection.

“How’s the overtime coming, Jeon?” Mr. Min’s voice was as gruff as ever and though he spoke to
Jungkook he didn’t take his eyes off of where they met yours in the mirror of the doors.
You could feel Yoojung tug tightly at your coat and you didn’t blame her. You wished that you had
something to grasp. “It’s going well. We both worked diligently yesterday and I think we made some
real headway. Hopefully we will finish before tonight,” Jungkook answered and his voice had lost
the playfulness that was usually there. It was dark, deep, and as much as you felt compelled to look
towards him you couldn’t pull yourself from Mr. Min’s intense stare.

“Yes, it would be good if you both got some time to rest before work tomorrow,” Mr. Min stated but
his voice was flat, as if he was completely disinterested in the conversation.

“So if we finish early today where would you like to go for dinner,” Jungkook asked and it dawned
on you only a few brief awkward seconds later that he was speaking to you. You finally broke the
gaze with Mr. Min to look up at Jungkook next to you. He wasn’t smiling, not even his cocky smirk,
and you noticed that his eyes were also trained to the reflection in the metal doors.

The date, why would he bring that up in front of Mr. Min? Yoojung buried her head in your back
and you could just barely hear her whine into your coat before you managed to stutter out, “oh, I d-
don’t care.” The floor dinged again and with a panicked glance at it you saw that you were only on
the sixth floor. Whoever decided to place the company on the twentieth floor was a real asshole.

“Now that’s not fair,” Jungkook said and this time the smirk was back. He nudged your shoulder and
you happened to jostle into Mr. Min before returning to your position with an apologetic nod to the
CEO though he didn't spare you a glance. “I was the one who asked you on a date. I only think it’s
fair if you choose where we go.”

Yoojung groaned into your coat and you were sure that everyone in the elevator could hear it. If
Jungkook understood that Mr. Min was the man you had been sleeping with then why was he so
keen to bring it up at that exact moment? You wanted to steal a glance at Mr. Min, to see what kind
of reaction he had, if he had any at all, but Jungkook was staring at you with the same smirk as
earlier. He was waiting for your answer and no one in the elevator spoke for the awkwardly silent
moments where you tried to form a coherent thought in your head. “Uh, I g-guess I’ll see what I feel
like later.” Jungkook smiled at you and though it seemed as genuine as his others the skin around his
eyes didn’t wrinkle with delight. You turned back to the door and noticed that you were only on the
twelfth floor. Eight more agonizing floors stuck in the elevator between both of them.

Mr. Min still stared at the door but this time his eyes stayed solely focused ahead of him. His face
was stern and unreadable, as if there was no emotion at all. You wondered if maybe you had been
wrong about Mr. Min. Perhaps he didn’t care if you dated Jungkook at all. The thought dawned on
you that all of his jealous and possessive talking could have merely been to liven up sex.

“There’s nothing against that right, Mr. Min?” Jungkook’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and
you noticed in the reflection of the door that he was now looking at Mr. Min. “I can’t remember
seeing anything against two employees being involved romantically in the handbook when I started
but, I figured, you would be able to tell me if there was something wrong with us dating.”

It felt like you couldn’t breathe. Yoojung clutched your coat in both hands and silently shook her
head as if she was willing Jungkook to stop. You couldn’t tell if Jungkook was bold or an idiot. Was
he asking to be fired? Did he not understand who you meant when you had mentioned sleeping with
someone in the company who had a lot of power? You suddenly wished that you had been more
direct with him.

“The company has no problem with employees dating. But as mentioned before, it can't affect your
work. The moment I see either of you slacking, you'll be written up." He said it while looking
straight ahead at his own reflection in the door but his eyes landed only briefly once more back on
you. They looked impossibly dark and you suspected it was due to the lighting in the elevator but he
looked vaguely threatening. Before you could fully question it he looked away from you and straight
ahead again, his face once again unreadable. “After all, we want our employees happy. But the
company must always be considered more important during work hours."

“Absolutely. It’s not like we would run off to an empty office and have sex during work hours,”
Jungkook said in a near growl. Your eyes widened and you could feel Mr. Min tense next to you
though his stare remained focused on the elevator door. Yoojung’s grip on your coat suddenly
loosened and a second later her furious coughs overtook the elevator. It was as if she was trying to
fill any remaining moments with her sickly hacking in order to keep Jungkook from saying anything
else. It wasn’t obvious whether Jungkook had known about your meetings with Mr. Min and had
intended on throwing them in his face or if he was incredibly dense until you gaped up at him to find
him staring straight ahead, refusing to meet your gaze, with a smug smirk on his face.

It was a small consolation that the doors to the elevator slid open before Yoojung passed out from
purposefully faking a coughing attack. Mr. Min didn’t spare a second more in the presence of the
three of you before he passed the doors as soon as they were wide enough for him to fit through. His
shoulders hit the edges of the doors in his rush to exit the space but he said nothing about it nor did
he react in any obvious way. You watched as he disappeared, with his mysterious black box
clutched in his hand, somewhere between the elevator and his office, lost from view in the fields of
cubicles and desks.

“What the fuck,” Yoojung whispered and when you turned away from Mr. Min’s disappearing
figure and back towards them you saw her hitting Jungkook’s back repeatedly. “Are you a complete
idiot? Are you drunk? What the fuck do you think that was?” Her voice was in a whisper but it still
sounded harsh, like a mother scolding her child while in public.

Jungkook curled his shoulders as he exited the elevator in a desperate attempt to protect himself from
her hits. He chuckled freely before turning and grabbing her wrists to stop the hits. “Oh come on,
that was fun.”

“Do you even know what you were doing? Who you were talking to,” Yoojung asked and yanked
her wrists out of his grip.

“I know what I’m doing, Yoojung.”

“You realize he could fire you,” you asked and only when his eyes landed on your face did his smile
falter.

“Jeez, don’t look so angry. He’s not going to fire me. Now he knows that I know about your guys,
uh, relationship. If anything now he knows that if he fires me that I have ammunition against him.”
Jungkook smiled again and this time it lacked the cocky and smug edge to it. “Look, I promise I
know what I’m doing, okay? I know how guys like him think. I’m not going to do anything that will
get you in trouble with him. Now he knows that he shouldn’t cross me so he’ll leave you alone.”

Yoojung groaned but you were unable to tear your eyes away from him. You may not have known
Mr. Min well but you knew him well enough to doubt Jungkook’s promise. The problem was you
had no idea how he would retaliate, or when, you only knew it would come.

“How can you be so sure of that? You don’t know anything about him,” you asked, an edge to your
voice, and this time even Yoojung stopped harassing Jungkook long enough to stare at you out of the
corner of her eye. Maybe it was petty but his assertion that he knew Mr. Min well enough in the
short few weeks he had worked at the company to be confident enough threatening him felt, in some
way, like a slap in your face. Your relationship with Mr. Min was purely physical, had never strayed
in any other direction, yet you liked to think that you knew him better than most of the people at the
office, certainly better than a new hire. The idea that Jungkook could know him better than you
implied, in your opinion, that you were either entirely clueless or, worst of all, confirmed that you
were nothing more than the dumb broad that let her boss use her at his discretion with nothing to
show for it.

His smile weakened but never left his face. “Trust me, for as awkward as that might have been it is
for the best in the long run. He won’t fire me. Honestly, I don’t even think he cares that much.” Your
throat tightened with his assumption and your chest burned with shame but before you could argue
with him his eyes raked over you slowly, completely oblivious to your thoughts. “And even if he
tried I would put up a hell of a fight,” he said and then leaned closer into you, bending at the waist so
that he could meet you at eye level as his smile turned back into the smirk that was quickly becoming
his signature. “It’s gonna be hard to get me out of here now that I’ve seen how cute you look in my
scarf and beanie,” he whispered and, though you wanted to maintain eye contact, you were drawn to
his hand as he lifted one and fingered the thick fabric of his scarf still wrapped around your neck.
You were still upset but it was muddled, hazed, clouded by your intoxication with Jungkook.

He pulled away from you when Yoojung cleared her throat to remind the two of you where you
were. “Mr. Min is watching,” she whispered and, knowing you well enough, she added, “don’t look.
He’s watching you two from his office.” She fidgeted with her hair, her coat, her bag, anything to
make it look somewhat more casual.

“Good,” Jungkook said in a low voice and pulled his eyes from you to look back at Mr. Min’s office,
“let him see.”

It was best if you left, put some distance between you and Jungkook in order to collect your
thoughts. You excused yourself from the group as the three of you neared your desk and though they
continued walking away from you it was hard to miss Yoojung’s continued criticism of Jungkook.
“Seriously, just tell me, how big of an idiot are you? I’m over here trying to protect your job and
meanwhile you are practically threatening him! You think you’re some bigshot now because she’s
gonna go on a date with you?”

It was hard to focus on your work when you knew that Mr. Min was in his office directly behind
you. It had not gone unnoticed that his blinds were open when you reached your desk and you found
yourself struggling to not slouch and will yourself into nothingness. At any moment he could watch
you, stare, leer, or gawk at you and you would be none the wiser. You sat straighter in your seat than
usual. Though words ran together, lines of text blurred, and figures went hazy as you stared at them
you tried to at least look as if you were working.

Perhaps Jungkook was right, though you doubted it. Maybe the conversation in the elevator had
been heard as some kind of warning to Mr. Min and that it safeguarded Jungkook from being
punished. That would be swell, it would take a bit of the stress off of your shoulders, but it did
nothing to protect you. Before Jungkook’s brazen (or was it foolish?) antagonistic conversation with
him you had been confident in your safety as it related to your job. Mr. Min had never implied that
your job security was tied to his pleasure but he had also made it clear that that was the only thing
you could offer him. It wasn’t lost on you that you weren’t the best at your job. You were at or near
the bottom of the pack in terms of efficiency, work ethic, and experience but yet your job had never
been under threat. You had been at the office all of six months but it was long enough for you to see
plenty of employees, one’s with better resumes than you, be fired for not “contributing enough”. You
didn’t want to admit it but perhaps your job was linked to Mr. Min’s pleasure. He had said multiple
times, clearly stated it in fact, that he was not going to stand up for you at work just because of your
arrangement. You had both agreed that the agreement between the two of you was outside of your
job description, that whether you worked at the company or not it would continue. So why were you
still employed when everyone knew you weren’t cut out for the job? If it was true that Mr. Min had
been protecting your career then was it not that much of a reach to assume that he would stop as soon
as the agreement was severed? You weren’t the only one who could leave the arrangement and
perhaps Jungkook’s sudden involvement didn’t only threaten his own job. Maybe his foolishness,
because you were sure that’s what it was, had protected his job at the expense of your own.

If you had not been so lost in your own thoughts, your fingers hovered over the keyboard as your
eyes bore into the screen that had long since darkened to sleep mode, perhaps you would have heard
Mr. Min leave his office. As it was you didn’t notice him until he stood in front of your desk and
cleared his throat, a look of complete disinterest thrown your way.
You jumped at the sound, completely pulled from your own worries and tossed back into reality.
“I’m sorry, sir, I was just,” you started and as you tried to come up with an excuse he held up a hand
as a command to stop talking.

“There is a present for you on my desk. Only go retrieve it when everyone else has gone, not before.
Stay after everyone else has already left, wait an extra twenty minutes to be sure no one comes back,
then go and get it. Do you understand,” he asked. His voice was low and it was impossible to tell if
the tone and volume was meant as a threat or merely a necessary way to keep unwanted ears from
hearing his command.

“Yes sir,” you said in a hushed voice and nodded slowly.

“Good girl. Make sure you wear it to the company party Tuesday,” he said and this time a small
smirk graced his lips. You nodded again and his lopsided grin grew slightly wider before he turned
his back and left without another word.

If it had been difficult to focus on your work before his demand it was impossible afterwards. A
present? Was it the black box he had been carrying in the morning? Time seemed to crawl by,
minutes felt like agonizing hours, seconds like torturous minutes. It was all you could do to not barge
into his office to see the gift.

A gift! Mr. Min had never bought anything for you before, not even a bottle of water after he face
fucked you in the break room. You didn't want to dwell on the meaning of it, couldn't for fear of
dreaming too big, and yet your mind constantly turned back to it. What was so different that he now
had gotten a gift for you? Was it Jungkook?

Eventually the sky had darkened, first to orange and pink then to a dusky blue before the black
overtook them all. Many of the other employees had already left, some abandoning their work before
the sun had even gotten close to the horizon, but you had remained dutifully at your desk. Of course,
that didn't mean a single folder had been completed during your diligent seat warming but you had
stayed just as Mr. Min had asked of you. You ignored Yoojung’s pleas for you to come drinking
with her. The offer was tempting but the allure of the black box that you could see in the middle of
Mr. Min’s desk any time you turned to peer into his office was too great for her suggestion of alcohol
to overcome.

It wasn’t until Jungkook appeared in front of you that you were able to temporarily focus on
something other than the present. He was wrapped in his leather jacket and his dark hair fell across
his forehead which left the focus on his eyes as they stared you down. “So I take it you didn’t finish
your part of the work,” he asked and your eyes immediately flicked down to the open folders on
your desk.

“Ah, no, I didn’t. I’m sorry,” you said and found that though you had been miffed with him earlier
you were genuinely disappointed about missing out on the date.

“It’s okay, I didn’t either.” He scratched his neck as he eyed the folders and laughed. “Are you
leaving soon?”

The truth was that, yes, you wanted to go home and forget about the stupid folders with a glass of
wine and a hot bath but the promise of the black box on Mr. Min’s desk was too great to ignore.
“Nope. I think I’m going to stay here and work on these a little more. Try to cut down on the work
that I have during the week.”

His eyebrows raised for a moment and his eyes widened just a fraction before he replaced them with
his sweet smile. “Oh, well do you want my help?”

“No!” You said it a little too quickly and his smile faltered before you continued with a flirtatious lilt
of your voice, “I probably would have an even more difficult time focusing if you stayed.” It wasn’t
a lie, you were obviously attracted to Jungkook and his presence made your mind run hazy
sometimes but the truth was if he stayed you would only be deterred from opening the box. You
couldn’t let that happen.

His lips stretched lopsidedly across his face and that familiar flush of his cheeks returned. “Alright. I
mean how am I supposed to argue with you after that?” He chuckled and looked around the office.
Your eyes followed his and you noticed that it appeared as if the two of you were the only people
left on the floor. “So how about instead of pleading with you to let me stay and help, you do me a
favor instead?”

“And what favor would that be?”

He returned his eyes to you and the flush from his cheeks was gone, his eyes were dark and
unrelenting. “Do me the favor of being my date at the twenty-fifth anniversary party on Tuesday,” he
said and his voice was lower than usual, a slight drawl to it as if he struggled to get the words out of
his mouth. Once he was finished he looked at you expectantly and by the way his face fell you could
guess that your thoughts were probably clearly expressed on your face.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be Jungkook’s date to the party, it was certainly more palatable than
suffering through the evening by yourself, but what about Mr. Min? If he saw you and Jungkook
together wouldn’t he be angry? He had asked you to wear whatever was in the black box to the
party. Did that mean that he intended for you to be his date? If your choice was between Jungkook
and Mr. Min why was it so hard to choose?

Before you could respond Jungkook managed to stutter out, “n-n-nevermind. It was just a joke. It’s
probably best if we just go separately. Yoojung would kill me if she saw you on my arm at a
company event.” It was admirable, the way he strained to keep his voice even as his eyes darted all
over your desk so long as it meant they didn’t have to land on you. His smile was gone, save for the
slight curl at the end of his lips, like he was trying to feign a grin as best as he could.

It probably wasn’t your best moment, might even end up being a terrible idea, but you found yourself
tripping over your tongue, desperate to get the words out. Your chest felt like there was an endless
pit in the center of it that appeared when Jungkook’s face dropped and you were falling into yourself.
“Maybe we could meet at the party,” you said in a frantic voice and watched as his smile grew
timidly. “You know, because Yoojung would be livid if we actually went as a date,” you added with
a bashful grin.

It wasn’t lost on Jungkook that Yoojung had nothing to do with your refusal to properly be his date,
he wasn’t that naive, but he chose not to push it. Better times and places would come later, he was
sure. “You should’ve heard the lecture she gave me at lunch,” Jungkook chuckled and rubbed the
back of his neck again in a futile attempt to take his mind off of the fact that you were obviously
more hung up on Mr. Min than he had anticipated.
“I bet she laid into you pretty well after that stunt in the elevator,” you giggled. The truth was you
had noticed her approach Jungkook at three separate times over the day and either point a finger in
his face as she berated him or lightly punch his shoulder as she glared at him.

“She’s not my biggest fan right now,” Jungkook said with a nod and zipped up his jacket. “Well, I
guess I’m gonna go home then. Don’t stay too late, it’s not healthy to do too many overtime hours.
Especially since we have to be here again tomorrow.”

You let out a deflated laugh as you dropped your head, “ugh, don’t remind me.” He chuckled above
you and when you lifted your head you saw him raising the collar of his jacket to prepare for the
temperature outside. “Oh! Your scarf and beanie! I still have them,” you said as you rummaged
through your bag to retrieve them for him.

“I know. I intended for you to keep them,” he said with that warm and genuine smile of his when
your eyes met again, the scarf and beanie clutched in your hands. “What? Did you think I could take
them back after seeing how cute you looked wearing my clothes,” he asked with a scoff and his
smile took on a flirtatious edge. “I would rather you wear them home. Keep yourself warm and think
about me.”

Your cheeks heated and you nodded slowly as a smile crept across your face. “Oh. Okay. Thank
you.”

He scoffed again and stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “I should be the one thanking you.
That’s been the highlight of my day.” You bit your bottom lip to keep your smile from growing to an
embarrassing size so quickly and he, in turn, let his smirk run wider. “Be careful going home. I’ll see
you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Jungkook,” you said and watched as he walked backwards to stare at you as long as possible
until he ran into a neighboring desk. You giggled and this time didn’t try to hide your smile at all.
“Maybe you should be the one to be careful,” you called after him.

He turned away from you but not before you saw his cheeks turn pink with embarrassment. He held
up a hand to wave goodbye to you and after he had entered the elevator you replaced his scarf and
beanie in your bag. Once again Jungkook had managed to make your mind run hazy and you had all
but forgotten the black box for a few moments after he had left. As soon as you remembered the
promise you made to Mr. Min you stood up in order to scan the room properly for anyone who might
have remained on the floor but found that you were the only soul left. You returned to your seat and
waited the twenty minutes you had promised Mr. Min in order to be sure that no one would return.
The minutes passed by slowly as you organized your desk, the anticipation far too great to actually
work on any of the folders that still remained unfinished. As the clock on your computer counted
down you found yourself jittery, your legs bounced uncontrollably as you waited impatiently.

As soon as the appointed time had arrived you darted from your seat and all but sprinted to Mr.
Min’s office door. Without hesitation of being seen or heard you threw the door aside with a bang
and, no thoughts spared for the state of the entry to his office, you headed towards his desk. Your
eyes were only focused on the black box wrapped with a thick white ribbon on the center of his
desk. You had no time to think as your fingers frantically worked to unwrap the ribbon and tear at
the lid of the box, tossing it to the side carelessly somewhere just off the side of his desk. Red tissue
paper lined the inside of the box and when you pulled it back you were met with sinfully salacious
black lace lingerie. Your breath was trapped somewhere between your lungs and your mouth as it
stood agape. Your fingers ran over the fabric only to find that it was the softest lace you had ever felt,
quite unlike the sometimes rough lace of your near bargain priced bras and panties.

All at once it hit you. Mr. Min had picked this out for you. He had spent time deciding what would
look best, what size, color, fabric, shape would compliment you best. What’s more was that he had
chosen a set that was only vaguely impractical. Out of all the outrageous, vulgar, lewd pieces he
could have chosen he picked one that you were actually inclined to wear more often than an
occasional night. As you ran your hands over the lace bra and equally delicate high waisted garter
belt you couldn’t contain your thoughts. Your brain ran at a mile a minute, frantically searching for
any kind of hint of what the gift meant. Clearly the gift was sexual in nature and it would be safe,
maybe even prudent, to take it as nothing more than that yet you couldn’t help the “what if’s”.

You had been sleeping together for months and never once had he purchased any kind of item as a
token of gratitude. The lingerie, while sexy on it’s own, was not the kind of thing men often
fantasized about. It wasn’t something you would have expected a man to pick out if he was merely
looking for something naughty for his partner to wear for him. No, this lingerie set showed a caring
and thoughtful side to him. Was it too much to call it tender? Or were you reading entirely too much
into such an obviously sexual gift. Perhaps it was nothing more than a “thanks for all the sex” gift.

Of course, the question that was at the forefront of your mind was why in the world he wanted you
to wear it to the party. It was a company event, everyone would be there and it wasn’t hard to fathom
that there would be exactly zero offices waiting empty for you and Mr. Min to escape. Surely he
didn’t expect to pull you away from the party with prying eyes watching, with Jungkook watching.
What was even less likely though was that he intended for you to be his date. You couldn’t picture
Mr. Min suddenly slipping his arm around your waist or linking your arms together in public. Such
an obvious announcement like that would cause the already heated gossip to explode throughout the
other employees. Not to mention that surely he didn’t expect to do such a grand gesture in front of
your colleagues without even asking if you wanted to properly date him. The entire idea of him
wanting you to act as his date, as enticing as it was, was too far out of character for you to reasonably
think it was true (though that didn’t stop your daydreams).

It was becoming ever more clear that the reality was you knew nothing about Mr. Min at all. Not his
birthday, his favorite food, his shoe size, not even his first name so what made you think that you
could accurately predict his actions and intentions? He had never opened up to you, never invited
you to peer into his life, to glance at any hidden cards he might have up his sleeves, and yet you
thought you were some kind of authority figure on the subject of Mr. Min. You scoffed at
Jungkook’s assumption that he understood Mr. Min, offended that anyone could think they knew
him as well as you but the fact was that you were just as clueless about him as every other person in
the office as long as the subject didn't involve his dick. It was possible, perhaps even likely, that there
were other employees that knew more about him than you and yet there you were, standing alone in
his dark office, staring at a stunning black lingerie set he had bought exclusively for you.

You shook your head, willing all the intrusive thoughts out of your mind before they became too
hurtful, before you were reminded entirely that you were nothing more than a warm sex toy for Mr.
Min. Once you wrapped the gift back up and collected your belongings, returning Jungkook’s scarf
and beanie to their places on your head and around your neck, you left your office and worries
behind. You refused to let your over thinking ruin the nice gesture he had made. Whatever the
present meant, whatever it signified, even if it was the worst, you accepted it and would allow
yourself the rest of the night to gloat unburdened by the reality Tuesday night would bring.

The night came quickly and you hadn’t found the opportunity to talk to Mr. Min. All day Monday he
was locked in meetings and whenever he did appear outside of his office he didn’t spare you more
than a glance. Meanwhile Jungkook ate lunch with you in the breakroom and even brought you a
coffee and a muffin from the bakery in the morning. He even insisted on walking you to the subway
but only agreed to leave when you finally donned his scarf and beanie. He insisted that it was far too
cold for you to walk the few blocks without them and that if you didn’t dress properly he would
force you to wear his jacket instead. On Tuesday Jungkook beat you to the office but a coffee and a
bagel were waiting for you on your desk when you arrived. Later that day he scolded you for not
wearing his scarf and beanie or, in his words, “your own clothes or something. Keep warm! I don’t
want you to get sick.” You merely smiled at his worried wrinkled brow and kept to yourself that you
had indeed worn his scarf and hat but had taken them off in the elevator.

Meanwhile, Mr. Min was still impossible to corner. It seemed his Tuesday was packed with meetings
again and you were left sitting just outside of his office, full of questions, and no way to talk to him.
He had gone out of his way to make sure you didn’t have access to him outside of work, always
texting or calling you from a protected number, never needing your services after work hours, and
you had absolutely zero ideas about how he spent his free time. Your only chance to talk to him
before the party was at work and yet he was constantly with someone else and by the end of the day
hadn’t even met your eyes once. He appeared out of his office, his coat on and a luxurious scarf
around his neck, well before he usually left for the day and announced his departure to one of the
supervisors. He leaned over the supervisor’s desk and while he discussed some papers his eyes lifted
and locked directly with yours. The look he gave you was dark and predatory, as if he had had you
on his mind all day, his eyes trailing over to you throughout the hours and had gone unnoticed, but
was unable to pounce. Something about his stare, the neediness of it, the possessive way his eyes met
yours as soon as they lifted from the desk, as if he knew you would be watching him, caused you to
react in a way you ordinarily wouldn’t without his encouragement. You bit your lip and slowly
spread your legs just enough to give him the suggestive hint of your inner thighs. The message came
across loud and clear because his lips twitched into a cocky smirk before he finished his conversation
with the supervisor. As he passed by your desk on the way to the elevator he looked at you from the
corner of his eye and you could just barely hear him mutter, “naughty girl.”

So when you entered the party, outfitted as he had asked with your new lingerie under your dress, it
was only natural that your eyes scanned the event hall of the hotel for him. You located him leaned
against a wall at the far end of the hall but it wasn’t until he had locked eyes with you that the crowd
moved and you noticed a statuesque blonde on his arm. Her dress was gorgeous and even from
where you were standing you could clearly tell she had spent more on it than you would earn in a
month. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, surely the result of a lot of time and money, and her pale arm
was linked with Mr. Min’s. You had already been spotted by Mr. Min, his mouth twisted into a cruel
smile, and, though your chest suddenly felt far too heavy to be healthy, you knew it would only be
more embarrassing to run and hide from him. Slowly, as if you were making your way down death
row, you walked towards Mr. Min. You focused on holding your head high and keeping a gentle
smile on your face, all the better if he couldn’t tell that you felt like you were deflating.

His eyes never left your face. He didn’t move to take in your dress that you now felt looked comical
standing next to his date, like you were the awkward girl at prom who wore her older sister’s dress
though it was years out of fashion and the fabric permanently wrinkled. He didn’t seem to notice the
unusual curl to your hair, something you had practiced in the mirror for hours the night before just on
the chance, though you knew realistically it was infinitesimal, that Mr. Min had intended to spend the
night with you. If he noticed your more elaborate makeup, the result of your professional makeup
artist roommate, he said nothing. It was as if he was purposefully studying your face. It was like he
was looking for the smallest hint of a crack beneath your stoic surface and you refused to give it to
him.

“Oh, Mr. Min! What a pleasure to see you here. I didn’t think you would join us at a party like this. I
thought it would be below your pay grade,” you said in the cheeriest voice that you could muster.
You couldn’t help but notice the way his date ran her eyes over you then looked away as if she was
completely disinterested. She took a sip of her champagne glass that she held delicately in the hand
that wasn’t linked through Mr. Min’s arm and you were torn between wishing you had thought to
grab some alcohol before talking to him and wanting to smash her glass on the floor.
Mr. Min chuckled lowly and took a sip out of his glass tumbler, a dark amber liquid passed over his
lips as he watched you. “You knew I would be here. In fact, I’m pretty sure you started looking for
me as soon as you walked in the door,” he sighed with feigned disinterest.

Your eyes flickered over to his date but she seemed more interested in watching the crowd than
entering the conversation. You wanted to ask who his date was, to know if they were sleeping
together, to ask if she knew that he had gifted you lingerie and requested you wear it to that very
event, to demand answers from him right then and there yet you didn’t want to give him the
satisfaction. “If I didn’t know better I would say you had to have been watching me from the
moment I walked into the party in order to know that,” you said with an edge to your voice that
landed somewhere between passive aggressive and flirtatious. You tilted your head to the side, let a
coy smirk pass across your lips, and cocked one of your eyebrows.

His smile twisted to mirror your own smirk before he took another sip of his amber liquid and
pointed to the woman on his arm. “Have I introduced you to my date,” he asked and raised one of
his own eyebrows.

You forced your lopsided smile to stay in place but your eyes flared at his question. He knew, of
course, that he had not introduced her. It felt as if he was dangling her in front of you, waiting for
you to snap and break your cool facade, like he was trying to see how far he could push you before
you would snap. Your chest still felt heavy, as if you couldn’t breathe properly, but you willed
yourself to keep your voice calm when you responded. “No, I don’t think you have.”

“This is Matilda, she is a friend of mine,” Mr. Min said and at the sound of her name she turned back
to you. Her cold blue eyes warmed for a brief second as she smiled and held out her hand to you.
You stared at her hand for a moment, thrown by the gesture, before you took it and shook it. Your
teeth gritted together and you forced yourself to return her smile.

“Matilda, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you responded and were thrilled to hear your voice only
sounded slightly on edge.

“The pleasure is all mine. And you are,” she asked in a thick accent but before you could answer her
Mr. Min had interrupted the conversation.

“She’s just an employee of mine. No one important, babygirl.” Though he spoke to Matilda his eyes
were focused on you, to continue his inspection for any sign of weakness.

The heaviness in your chest exploded and it felt as if a black hole had opened up inside of you and
the rest of you stood just outside the event horizon, under a constant threat to be sucked inside and
disappear forever. Just an employee. No one important. Babygirl. You had been so thrilled to hear
him call you something other than ‘dollface’ and now the word seemed so cheap, used, and
tarnished. Matilda spoke next, as if Mr. Min’s remark was not rude, as if it made complete sense and
confirmed what she had already suspected. “Oh, well it’s nice to meet you.” The warmth in her
heavily accented voice disappeared and as soon as she had finished speaking she turned back to
watch the crowd, something she apparently found much more interesting than you.

The cashier at the bakery had seen it and now Matilda did too. In some way it was clear to both
women that you weren’t a threat, weren’t capable of being worthy of men like Mr. Min and
Jungkook. You felt ridiculous standing in front of him in his decadent suit, her in her luxurious
gown, and you in a dress that had been hiding in the back of your roommate's closet for three years
after she bought it on sale. You felt your cheeks heat and, unlike the many times they had before in
his and Jungkook’s presence, this time it was from pure embarrassment. Mr. Min seemed to notice
and after he took another sip of his drink a particularly cruel smile appeared on his face. “Isn’t she
beautiful,” he taunted and stared at you as he waited for a response. You could feel Matilda’s eyes
back on you too, her being the topic of conversation seemed to have revived her interest in what was
happening. You couldn’t will your smile to stay on your face and you felt your eyes drop in front of
him before another presence sidled next to you, a large hand wrapped around your waist before
coming to rest on your hip.

“I’ve seen better,” Jungkook said in a firm voice and when you turned to look at him you saw his
jaw was clenched, his eyes trained on Mr. Min. He softened only long enough to look at you and
smile warmly while he said in a low tone, “you look beautiful tonight, by the way.”

“Jeon,” Mr. Min said flatly, all the taunt and cockiness gone from his voice. When you and
Jungkook turned to look back at Mr. Min you noticed that his smug smirk had disappeared from his
voice and he suddenly stood straighter, opting not to lean against the wall and stand to his full height.
“I’m glad you could make it.”

Jungkook continued to smile but it seemed to have an edge to it after he had taken his eyes off of
you. “Oh, I wouldn't miss it. I have a very important date to take care of this evening.” He pulled
tighter on your waist to bring you closer to him, a subtle sign that he was speaking about you.

Mr. Min’s eyes narrowed slightly before he seemed to remember where he was and he fixed his face
to appear disinterested. “Is that so,” he asked tightly and took a sip of his drink again before
continuing. “And who would that be?”

Jungkook probably would have answered but you decided to deliver the news yourself. Sure, maybe
you didn't agree to be Jungkook’s date for the night but he was offering you a way to save some
pride in front of Mr. Min and you weren't about to turn that down. “Me,” you responded proudly and
when Mr. Min’s eyes fell on you again you leaned into Jungkook’s side, your head rested against his
shoulder.

“That’s lovely,” Mr. Min said in a flat voice.

Mr. Min’s eyes stayed on you for a few awkward moments before Jungkook spoke again, “I forgot
to ask you if you were free Friday night. I wanted to take you on a proper date. You know, no work
stuff involved.”

You weren't sure if Jungkook was being sincere or continuing to play it up in front of Mr. Min but at
that point you didn't care. You liked Jungkook. He was nice, sweet, genuine, and he cared for you in
ways Mr. Min clearly never had. You owed nothing to Mr. Min. Jungkook obviously knew the risk
he was taking with his job by pursuing you. At that point you didn't even care about the possibility
that your job would be on the line for flaunting Jungkook in his face. All you wanted was the chance
to make Mr. Min feel as poorly as you did while he paraded Matilda in front of you. You were sure it
wouldn't be the same kind of pain for him as it was for you but maybe, just perhaps, you could
damage his ego just a bit. It was with those thoughts in mind that you turned to look up at Jungkook
and smiled brightly at him, as if he was the only person that mattered in the world. “I would love
that,” you cooed.

Jungkook smiled down at you and tightened his grip on your waist. In the corner of your eye you
could see that Mr. Min’s eyes were still on you, his glass frozen somewhere halfway to his mouth, as
he watched the scene unfold in front of him. You weren't sure what it said about you but you felt
infinitely powerful in that moment, something you hadn't felt while standing in his presence since the
day you had appeared in his office with a sticky note full of all the times he had leered at you.

“How about we go get a drink? Everything is on the company's tab tonight. Isn't that right, Mr.
Min,” Jungkook asked and practically sneered at the other man.
Mr. Min paused with his brow slightly furrowed like he was trying to piece the right words together.
“Yes, that's right. Go and enjoy yourselves. Have fun,” he said in a monotone voice but quickly
added in a lower tone, “but not too much.” When you and Jungkook stood staring at him over his
last remark he added with a plastic smile that didn't reach his eyes, “we have to work tomorrow after
all.”

“Right,” Jungkook confirmed and before you could reply he had pulled you from Mr. Min by your
waist and turned to lead you to the bar on the other side of the hall. “What a fucking prick,” he
muttered. You hummed an agreement but kept your eyes ahead of you, afraid that if you looked at
him he would see through your brave facade. Every step you took from Mr. Min weakened your
need for it and you knew sooner rather than later Jungkook would see through it. “I don’t know what
you see in him. Must be some pretty fantastic sex,” he continued to mutter next to you but you got
the distinct impression that he didn’t intend for you to hear him.

Once you reached the bar his sweet smile was back as he asked for your order. The clenched jaw
and dark stare from earlier was gone and replaced with the warm Jungkook you were used to.
“Don’t worry about him,” he finally said after you had both gotten your drinks and sat down at a
table somewhere in the crowd.

“I’m not,” you said with as cool of a tone as you could muster.

He smirked as he watched you take a sip of your drink, “is that so?”

“I couldn’t care less about him and his date,” you replied haughtily.

“You seemed to be bothered about it earlier. I only stepped in because he was being such an ass to
you and you I couldn’t stand to see you look so sad.”

Your eyes widened and you stared at him with your mouth agape. “You saw that whole thing?”

“I happened to be near him when you came in to the party. I saw you looking for him so I thought I
would wait it out and see if you needed my help with him and his bimbo.”

“That’s not funny. She could be a lovely person for all we know,” you said but had to stifle a laugh.
It was petty but it felt good to have someone to trash talk Mr. Min and his date with.

“Sure, because that seems to be his type,” Jungkook said with a sarcastic shrug. “If it was then he
wouldn’t be throwing you away.”

You were sure he meant it as a compliment, positive Jungkook wouldn’t say something so tactless,
but it still burned in that fresh wound you tried to hide. “He’s not throwing me away,” you muttered
and stared at your drink.

“Really? What would you call it then when he shows up with another woman when he knows you
will be here?”

“We didn’t agree to be exclusive when we came up with our deal,” you explained with a desperate
need for him to understand. If you said the words out loud, made someone else understand them,
then maybe it would make you feel better about the arrangement. It was like you hoped to soothe
your pain by reasoning it away to someone else. “We can each see anyone else that we want to. Not
just him. It’s fair, really.”

Jungkook nodded slowly as he studied you over his drink. “Is that so? You didn’t seem so blasé
about it earlier.”
“I was just caught off guard, that’s all.”
“So tell me, are you trying to cover for him or for yourself right now?”

“What does that mean?”

He ran his hand through his hair and let his eyes drift along the crowd rather than look at you. “Are
you trying to convince me he’s not a bad guy or that you are okay with the way things are? Because,
either way, you aren’t doing a very good job of it.” He turned back to you to wait for a response and
his expression was solemn. You tried to form an answer to his question but couldn’t seem to pull the
right words out of your mind. “Can I be honest with you?” You nodded slowly and once he had
been given permission he took another sip of his drink before continuing. “I don’t like that you and
him are together. I know you aren’t dating and, maybe you are trying to convince me otherwise, but I
think that just makes it worse. You deserve better than the way he treats you and I don’t even really
understand why you are with him in the first place. He’s an ass and he treats you like you’re his
property. The worst part though was watching you stand there and take it from him. Do you not
think you deserve something better than that? What can he offer you that makes the way he treats
you worthwhile?”

“I can answer that,” a familiar voice replied and suddenly Yoojung was sitting in the chair next to
Jungkook. “Sex,” she said matter of factly. “The sex has to be mind blowing. I’m talking the kind of
fucking where the skies open up and God himself watches in awe. I bet after each orgasm, and I’m
sure there are multiple, that God gives him a thumbs up.”

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly at Yoojung’s obviously tipsy behavior but Jungkook appeared to
be annoyed more than anything else. “Did you hit the bottle a little early tonight, Yoojung?”

“I’m sorry,” she scoffed and turned to look at Jungkook while feigning a hurt expression, “was that
judgement I just heard? Just because you aren’t getting that kind of action doesn’t mean you have to
shoot the messenger.”

You laughed harder and Jungkook shot you a glare before turning back to Yoojung. “Who said I’m
not?”

“Please! Don’t make me laugh, little boy. If you were getting some pussy that good you wouldn’t be
following her around like a love sick little puppy,” Yoojung said with a nod towards you before she
reached over and took your drink from your hands.

“You sure you need that,” you asked.

“If I’m going to deal with the two of you tonight then you can bet your ass I’m going to need it.”
“You can go somewhere else then,” Jungkook said in a low voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Yoojung said sarcastically and placed her hand on her chest as if she was shocked,
“am I interrupting your attempts to woo her? You know who she is fucking so why are you still
trying to mess with her?”

You could feel your cheeks start to heat in embarrassment and you tried to steer the subject away
from Mr. Min. “Yoojung, did you-.”

“Listen here, kiddo. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks watching you go googly eyed every time she
walked past your desk.” Jungkook’s eyes were wide as he listened to Yoojung and just as he opened
his mouth to defend himself she turned towards you with a smirk on her face. She covered her
mouth, as if she was whispering a secret, but spoke at her usual volume. “There was one day where
you dropped your files in front of his desk and you were in a super short skirt. He stared at your ass
like he was looking at the fucking Mona Lisa. I swear his eyes bulged out of his head like some kind
of cartoon character. I’m surprised his tongue didn’t roll out of his mouth like a fucking red carpet,
just begging you to ride on it,” she said with a laugh and seemed completely oblivious to the furious
red shade of your and Jungkook’s cheeks. You vaguely felt your purse vibrate gently in your lap but
were to enthralled in Yoojung’s story to have cared. She relished in the stunned silence you and
Jungkook left her in by taking another sip of your drink before she turned back to Jungkook. “Did
you think you were fooling anyone when you suddenly announced you had to go to the bathroom
right afterwards? Had to jerk one off in the toilet, huh? That,” she said and pointed to him as if her
whole spiel somehow had a point, “is how I know that you aren’t getting some good fucks from
someone. If you were then you wouldn’t need to run off to the bathroom just because she bent down
in front of you.”

Jungkook sputtered out random syllables, his face was more red than you had ever seen and spread
up to the tips of his ears. You bit your lip furiously, willing yourself to somehow disappear from the
awkward conversation. It was exceptionally flattering to hear Yoojung’s detailed account of how
Jungkook had been attracted to you before you had even noticed him but it was embarrassing for him
and you were sure you sitting next to him made it even worse. “How much exactly did you drink
tonight, Yoojung,” he finally managed to get out.

“Psh, like she didn’t already know how hungry you are for her,” Yoojung scoffed and waved her
hand dismissively.

Jungkook leaned closer to her in an attempt to whisper something to her and at that exact moment
you felt your purse vibrate in your lap again. You welcomed the distraction, anything to keep you
out of the conversation Jungkook clearly wanted to keep private, and fished your phone out of your
bag.

From: unknown number 8:36 PM

Meet me in the hallway by the kitchen.

Your head shot up to look in the direction you had last seen Mr. Min in but you only found Matilda
standing by herself. She appeared to be bored and had her head turned down towards her phone.
Jungkook and Yoojung were distracted in their own conversation so you took the opportunity to
look towards the staff entrance to the event hall and just as a waiter walked out of the swinging doors
you caught a glimpse of Mr. Min staring at his phone while he leaned against the wall.

You swallowed loudly as you contemplated what to do. Part of you was intrigued by what he
wanted from you while he had a woman as beautiful as Matilda as his date. A larger, more
responsible, part of you wanted to choose the absolute right words to precisely tell him off. As your
fingers danced over your phone screen you heard Yoojung laugh heartily before she quipped, “I
would like to see you try, bucko.”

From: You 8:38 PM

I am busy with my friends.

His response was quick and you were grateful that Jungkook and Yoojung were so enthralled in
their argument.

From: unknown number 8:38 PM

I’m sure they will understand that you have responsibilities you need to take care of.

From: You 8:39 PM

Perhaps but I’m not interested tonight. Thanks anyways.

From: unknown number 8:39 PM

It wasn’t a request, dollface. We have an arrangement that you agreed to. Did you forget the rules?
You come when I tell you to.

You inhaled deeply to try to calm yourself. Normally when he was dominant and demanding you
couldn’t resist him but tonight was a different story. When you felt your lower stomach start to
tighten with need and want you denied it just as easily as it came.

From: You 8:39 PM

If you need to fuck someone so badly why don’t you ask your date? She looks like she would take
your cock well.

From: unknown number 8:40 PM

Is that jealousy, dollface? Or is that your attempt at sexting? Either way it is pathetic.

From: You 8:40 PM

Enjoy your night, Mr. Min. I know I will.

There was a pause in his messages and you could hear Yoojung scoff, “oh that’s rich coming from
you.” You were just about to place your phone back in your purse, sure that he had given up, when
you felt your phone vibrate rapidly in succession.

From: unknown number 8:44 PM

Listen to me carefully because you only get one chance

From: unknown number 8:44 PM

Either you meet me in this hallway and get down on your knees and beg for my forgiveness

From: unknown number 8:44 PM

In which case I will be happy to fuck you until you can’t remember your god damn name

From: unknown number 8:45 PM

Or you end our arrangement right now

From: unknown number 8:45 PM

In which case you should have the decency to act like an adult and come tell me in person

From: unknown number 8:45 PM

I’m done texting with you like some kind of high schooler. Get to this hallway and tell me what you
want. Now.

You didn’t want to admit it, to acknowledge it at all, but your loins stirred on their own from his
suggestive messages. You looked at Jungkook and Yoojung, still deep in their own argument, as you
slid your phone back into your purse. It was time that you ended the agreement. Logically it made
sense but a part of you held out hope that he did, in fact, want you in some way. Some way that
Matilda couldn’t provide. She was easily more beautiful than you, svelte, poised, regal, and
glamorous. There was nothing that he could get from you physically that he couldn’t reasonably get
from her. It was with that thought in mind that you excused yourself from the table with a feeble
excuse about needing to visit the restroom. Jungkook and Yoojung were still so deep in their
discussion that they merely nodded their acknowledgement before they started going at each other
again.

As you passed through the crowd you tried to remind yourself you were only going to meet him to
end the arrangement but every foot step closer to where he was hidden filled you with a needy
anticipation. His pull over you was at once both powerful and toxic, like an addiction you didn’t
mean to form. You slipped through the swinging doors that said “Staff” across them as stealthily as
you could and once hidden behind them you saw Mr. Min leaned against the wall with his arms
locked together in front of his suited chest. As soon as he saw you he walked down an adjoining
hallway full of doors with labels on them. He stopped in front of one marked “Management” and
opened the door without hesitation.

You followed him into the room and found that it was nearly empty. Only a filing cabinet and a
small desk were stored in the room and yet it felt so impossibly small with Mr. Min standing in front
of you. “How did you know about this room?”

Mr. Min shrugged as he looked around. “I know the owner.”

“So what? He just said “and in case you want to fuck someone tonight here is a spare room”?”

Mr. Min sighed deeply and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “So what's your decision?”

You needed to end it with him, could feel the words on the tip of your tongue, but instead of letting
them out you bit them back. “Why am I here? You could just go fuck Matilda. Why do you want
me?”

He paused as he studied you. His brows were slightly furrowed and his mouth was in a straight line
while he stalked slowly towards you. “Because you agreed to this. You said you were fine being my
fuck doll so if you have a problem with this,” he said and was so close his breath ran across your
cheeks, his hands placed on either side of your head to pin you against the door, “then you are going
to need to tell me to stop.”

He waited nearly a full minute for you to tell him to get away from you but you couldn't bring
yourself to find the words you knew you needed. The minute would have been awkward if not for
the heat between the two of you. His dark eyes bore into you, unwavering, as he dared you to tell
him to stop. The blonde fringe of his hair fell into his face and the strands gently waved in the air
with every breath you exhaled. Your mouth was parted, as if your body knew you needed to speak,
but only your shallow breaths crossed your lips.

He leaned in closer to you, his lips brushed against your ear, his chest pressed against your own.
“Why aren't you telling me to stop? Don't you need to get back to Jeon?”

You swallowed thickly and your eyes fluttered close. His body heat swallowed you, his breath
tickled your ear, and suddenly he had pushed himself completely against you. There was no room for
you to move, barely enough for you to exist in the same space as him. It was all you could do to find
your voice. It came out as a whisper, weaker than you intended. “Why would you even bring him
up?”
He didn't answer you and instead pulled your earlobe in between his teeth. Your breath hitched in
your throat and your hands found purchase in his sides, your fingers clutched at the fabric of his suit
jacket. A low whine left your mouth and as soon as he heard it he let your earlobe fall out of his
mouth.

“Do you want me to stop,” he whispered in your ear.

You didn't even need to think about your answer. Your body cried out for more of him. “No.”

“Good,” he said and you could feel his lips curl into a smile against your cheek. “So were you a
good girl? Did you wear your gift?”

“I did, sir.”

He hummed his approval and let his hands fall from beside your head to travel across your your sides
slowly until he slid them behind you. He pulled you into him by your hips and let his hands roam to
your ass. After a tight squeeze on the curve of your rear his hands traveled further south until his
fingers grazed the hem of your dress. He lifted the fabric just enough to slide his hands underneath.
“You did,” he said in a pleased tone as he ran his hands over the lace of the panties and garter belt he
had bought for you. “Did you wear these for me?”

“You asked me to,” you cooed and leaned into his touch, arching your back and pushing your chest
into his.

“So obedient,” he sighed and let his mouth trail kisses down the column of your neck. “You can be
such a good whore when you stop fighting me every step of the way.”

“If you weren’t such an ass I wouldn’t have to,” you tried to say but it came out more as a moan after
he pulled the skin of your neck into his mouth. His teeth nipped at your flesh and when he released it
he licked the spot with a long stroke of his tongue.

“Is that what you like about Jeon so much? That he is a sweet little puppy?” He snickered and trailed
one of his hands from your ass to your core. His slender fingers pressed against your pussy, the
delicate lace fabric did little to keep the warmth of his hand away from you.

“Stop bringing him into this,” you whined.

“I didn’t bring him into this, dollface. You did. That’s fine though, I’ll let it go. I don’t think he could
get you this wet as easily as me anyways,” he said and pulled his head away from your neck. Your
eyes shot open and he smiled cockily at you before he continued talking. “So should I fuck you in
this tacky dress or take it off so I can see you in my present clearly?” He spoke as if he was thinking
out loud with total disregard for you. The insult about your dress should have pissed you off but at
the time your mind was full of a haze that left you needy for him. “Oh! That’s right. I believe I said
something earlier about you needing to get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness,” he said and
pulled his hands from you before taking a step away from you. “Go on then, whore. You made me
wait too long for you in that dingy hallway. Show me how apologetic you are.”

“I don’t really think I need to apologize. I haven’t done anything wrong. If you were so impatient to
get your cock sucked you could have just asked Mat-.”

“I said get on your knees,” he said loudly. His tone shocked you and you hated to admit it but you
quickly fell to your knees in front of him just as he had commanded. “Finally,” he sighed. “Now
open your mouth and try to keep quiet. Fuck dolls aren’t supposed to talk that much.” You licked
your lips while you glared at him but ultimately did just as he said and held your mouth open for him.
“Pull out my dick,” he ordered as he looked down at you, his arms linked in front of his chest.

You did what he asked and worked your hands on his pants, the obvious bulge that strained against
the fabric not going unnoticed, until his cock stood proudly in front of you. You moved to stroke it
but one of Mr. Min’s hands flew to yours and grasped your wrist. “I didn’t say you could do that.
You agreed to be my fuck doll, right? So try to act like a good one and just sit there until I tell you to
move.” His voice was harsh and when you pulled your wrist from his grip he merely smiled cruelly
at your submissiveness. He waited for you to fight him, to say something caustic back, but you
stayed quiet with your mouth open for him and his smile only grew more twisted. “Put my cock on
your tongue,” he ordered.

He didn’t divert his eyes from your harsh stare. It was as if he dared you to deny him, like he was
pushing limits purposefully just to see how far he could go, how far you were willing to let him go. If
he was waiting for you to rebuke him he would be disappointed because you stuck your tongue out
of your mouth and placed the head of his member on your pink muscle without breaking eye contact
with him. He sneered, “you look so pathetic right now. Like an obedient little dog.”

You finally pulled away from him to snap back but he locked his hand in the hair at the top of your
head and pulled you back into position. “I didn’t say you could move. Don’t talk and don’t move
unless I tell you to. Let’s be clear about one thing, despite what Jeon or anyone else may think, the
only thing your mouth is good for is sucking cock. Got it? Now open up and do what you do best.”

“Fuck you,” you spit back but didn’t fail to open your mouth and stick out your tongue just as he had
commanded.

“We’ll get to that,” he laughed and placed his dick back on your tongue with his free hand. He left
his other hand locked in your hair to ensure you didn’t move again and didn’t waste his time pushing
himself further into your mouth. “Just keep your mouth open, dollface. This shouldn’t be too hard for
you to do but just sit there and let me fuck your throat. That’s all I want from you right now. Think
you can do that,” he asked and lightly slapped your cheek.

You nodded slowly and as much as you hated to admit it you desperately wanted him to do anything
to you. Your body cried out for him and no amount of insults he threw at you changed the way your
loins heated and twisted for him. He was an ass and was being exceptionally rude that night but the
truth was that a part of you loved it and you weren’t sure if you wanted to question why. Not that
you had the time anyways because without warning Mr. Min thrust himself into your mouth, the
head of his cock easily pushed towards the back of your throat, and you gagged unintentionally on
him. He pulled back immediately and waited for you to gain your composure before he slid himself
into you slowly, affording you the chance to grow accustomed to his intrusion. Once he was sure
you were prepared he thrusted into you again and didn’t stop despite the lewd wet sounds that his
cock reaching the back of your throat created.

Your hands moved behind you in an attempt to brace yourself against the door. From your position
and the way he held your head in place you were able to see his face clearly as he watched his dick
disappear and reappear from your mouth. His brows were furrowed, his forehead puckered, and his
lips pursed and if he had been fucking your throat longer you would have written it off as a result of
his exertion. As it stood though he had no reason to look the way he did. He looked angry and
determined but you weren’t sure why. You tried to push the thought from your head and instead
focus on the task at hand, breathing at any chance he gifted you.

“God, you can be such a good slut as long as someone keeps that mouth of yours busy.” He placed
the hand that wasn’t lodged in your hair against the door to steady himself as he thrust into you. With
every jerk of his hips he grunted above you and when your throat would tighten around the head of
his cock he would sharply inhale air through his teeth.

One of your hands left the door and found it’s way underneath the fabric of your dress and
immediately found your heat. You rubbed yourself as inconspicuously as you could, afraid he would
try to stop you and make you wait for him. You were certain there was no way he could understand
how much your body ached for him to touch you and if he was intent on punishing you first then
you thought it was only fair if you pleasured yourself. Surprisingly when you looked up at him again
you could see his eyes focused on the way your arm flexed with each movement of your fingers.
“You couldn’t fucking wait, huh? Are you so needy that you couldn’t wait for me?” He chuckled
darkly but didn’t relent on the brutal way he attacked your throat. “Go ahead. Be a good little bitch
and play with that dirty cunt of yours while I fuck your face.”

His pace sped up and it became more difficult for you to time your breaths with his retreat. Your
fingers worked your core through the thin, and now wet, lace of your panties but soon it wasn’t
nearly enough. You slipped your hand into your underwear and spread your wetness over your slit
before you rubbed circles into your clit quickly. Soon you could see a thin layer of sweat had formed
on his forehead when he brushed his bangs out of the way. He buried himself in you, the fine hair at
his base tickled your nose, and he leaned in towards the door to push his cock as far as he could get it
down your throat. He didn’t move. He left his dick resting there, gently throbbing, as he panted over
you. “Take it, dollface. You can do it for me,” he cooed above you and you willed yourself not to
panic. You hadn’t prepared for him to choke you with his cock and had been caught low on air.
Your throat lightly spasmed against the tip of his dick and he threw his head back and let out a low
grunt. “Fuck. That’s it, fuck doll. Just take it. Sit there and take it like the whore you are. Are you
fingering yourself? If you’re not then do it now.”

His words may have been demeaning but they encouraged you to try to hold out all the same.
Obediently you slipped one finger into yourself but found that it wasn’t enough. A second finger
soon joined the other and thrust into you at a steady pace while the heel of your palm worked your
clit. You closed your eyes to try to focus on not choking completely. You willed your throat to relax,
to ignore the way your lungs burned in your chest, and to just hold out for him. Your hands left their
braced position against the door to push against his legs but he groaned so lowly that you were
certain it had been a moan. “Just a little longer. This feels fucking amazing, babygirl.” Your chest
flooded with warmth at his seldomly used pet name and your fingers dug into his legs. His pants
pooled by his feet and he pulled harshly at your hair, pulling you as deep onto his cock as was
possible. “I can’t believe you’re fingering yourself while you choke on my dick,” he said with a light
laugh. “What a dirty whore.”

Unexpectedly he pulled you off of him, your head knocked lightly against the door before you stared
up at him, your mouth wide as you tried to take in as much air as possible. “Wow,” Mr. Min mused
and ran a hand through his hair, his voice low and cruel, “you look fucking wrecked.” He reached
out and ran his thumb across your lower lip to spread your saliva across your face. He chuckled
darkly and slapped the side of your face before he sneered, “your lipstick is smeared across your
face. Jeon isn’t going to appreciate the way I send his precious angel back to him.”

You took a sharp breath and your eyes narrowed. You pulled your hands away from yourself and
rested them on your exposed thighs. “If you don’t stop bringing him into this,” you warned.

Mr. Min cocked his head to the side, one hand lazily stroked his cock as it stood right in front of your
face while the other ran through his damp blonde hair. “Or what, dollface? You’ll leave? Then go.
Run out there to him if you want him so bad,” he shouted and tossed his hand out to the door behind
you. You stared up at him from your kneeling position, your nostrils flared as you breathed deeply to
try to calm yourself, but you didn’t move. You made no motion to leave and Mr. Min smirked at you
with an edge that told you he was mocking you. He lowered himself to squat in front of you and
leveled his eyes with your own. “I didn’t think so. See, as much as you tried throwing him in my
face earlier to try and make me jealous I know that you would rather be with me. Why else would
you be here, on your knees, letting me choke you on my cock, while he is right out there,” he asked
and pointed a finger to the door. His smile stretched across his face but his eyes were cold and harsh.

You stared back at him but your own expression was much more open, like a deer in the headlights.
You wanted to prove him wrong but the truth was that he was absolutely correct. You had left
Jungkook at the table with Yoojung, hadn’t even really considered an alternative action. Sure, you
had gotten up to meet Mr. Min with the best of intentions but they clearly fell by the wayside and
now that you were kneeling in front of him, your body hot and desperate, you had no plans of
leaving.

He waited for you to respond, to move, to prove him wrong in any way and when you didn’t his
smile grew. “Get up,” he ordered as he stood and moved away from you. He continued to stroke his
dick, which still stood proud, as he watched you slowly push yourself away from the floor. You
stood in front of him, the bottom of your dress a wrinkled mess, before he barked out another
command, “turn around.”

You did as he asked and turned to face the door. Almost immediately he was against you. His body
pressed yours into the wood of the door, your cheek turned against it and in the corner of your eye
you could see him taking off his suit jacket, tie, and button up shirt. Against your ass you could feel
his erection pressed into you. “Should I take off my dress?”

He laughed as if your question had been a hilarious joke, one that you weren’t privy to the
punchline. “No,” he finally answered after his laughter had died down. “I only took off my clothes
because I don’t want to sweat through them but you? You are nothing more than a fuck doll, right? It
doesn’t matter how much I ruin your tacky little dress or your hair,” he said and locked his hand in
the strands at your nape and pulled until your neck was at an awkward and unnatural angle, “that I
bet you spent hours on. People expect someone like you to look like you’ve been used and tossed
back into the crowd.” He used his free hand to hike the bottom of your dress up to your waist and
pressed himself against the skin that your lace thong exposed. “I bet,” he said and spoke in a low
voice directly into your ear, his forehead pressed against the side of your skull, “you spent so much
time in front of the mirror trying to make yourself look pretty just for me. You probably worried
about all the little details, what color lipstick I would like, if your dress was tight enough, should you
wear your hair up or down. Am I right?”

“Yes sir,” you whispered.

“Silly girl. I don’t care about any of those things. Maybe Jeon might notice but all I care about is how
easily I can fuck you. You didn’t wear pants and that’s about the only thing I care about how you
look.”

It shouldn’t have but his words hurt. You winced in his grasp but if he noticed he didn’t say
anything. The hand that wasn’t lodged in your hair slipped between the two of you in order for him
to dig his fingers into the flesh of your ass. If you had made it as clear to him as you were sure you
had then he was fully aware that you wanted a chance at more than a physical relationship with him,
not that you could totally understand why when he acted like an ass. Yet he insisted on shooting you
down as cruelly as he could. “Why do you have to be such a jerk,” you asked in a whisper, too
ashamed to say it outloud.

He paused but it was brief. His warm breath hit against your ear and cheek as he stood there quietly
pressing you into the door. “Feel free to leave. You’re the one who agreed to be my fuck doll. You
decided this is what you wanted, this was how you wanted to be treated. But I’m not evil. You can
leave at any time. All you have to do is tell me to stop, cancel our deal, and then you are free to go.”
He said his piece and though he was giving you a free pass to get out, telling you exactly how to
make him stop, you still wanted him. You just wanted him to not attack you so ruthlessly.
Demeaning names during sex was fine but he was toeing the line, sometimes even crossing it, and
you suspected that he was doing it on purpose. He paused again to give you a chance to tell him off,
to end the arrangement, and when you didn’t speak he sneered into your ear, “that’s what I thought.”

The hand that was massaging your ass slipped between your legs and you obediently spread them for
him. He pushed your panties out of the way so he had easy access to your core. He let his fingers run
over your slit and he spread your juices over your skin. “See how wet you already are? That’s how I
know you love me fucking you no matter how I treat you. All you want is cock. Isn’t that right,
dollface?”

If he had intended for you to answer he didn’t wait for your response. He pulled away from you
suddenly and wrapped his arm around your waist to tug your lower half away from the door while
his hand held your upper body against the wood by the hair on your head. From the new position he
could more easily access your entrance and he placed the head of his cock right against you, your
panties pulled to the side. You squirmed in his arms, the tension in your body cried out for release,
and he took that as his sign to continue. Without another word he pushed himself into you and you
whimpered at the sudden intrusion. He stilled inside of you, almost the only caring and gentle act he
had done all night, to allow your body to adjust and accommodate him. He unwrapped his arm from
around your waist and dragged his hand down to your ass, his fingernails dug into your skin and left
stinging trails in their wake. He pulled one of your cheeks away from the other and started thrusting
into you slowly, conscious of the fresh intrusion.

Immediately you began moaning. You had been waiting for him to finally properly touch you since
you had decided to sleep with him that night. The tension had grown within your body and though
the feeling of your fingers was nice they were no substitute for Mr. Min. Finally feeling him inside of
you, to experience him filling you up again, was just the thing you needed to take your mind off of
how mean he was acting. You bit your lip in an attempt to control your moans. You didn’t want him
to know how desperate you were for him. You didn’t want him to know that all the things he had
said and implied about how much you wanted him were true. If you admitted that to him, even
without saying the words, it opened the possibility of everything else he had said being true too.

When you controlled your whimpers it was far easier to hear Mr. Min’s grunts from behind you. He
had abandoned his slow pace in favor of a much more aggressive and fast one. In the corner of your
eye you could see his brows furrowed in concentration, the beads of sweat from his forehead had
rolled out from under his damp bangs and were crossing his cheeks. He worked his bottom lip
between his teeth, probably in a similar effort as you, and his eyes were locked onto where his cock
continued to reappear and disappear into your body. His grunts were low and laced with the effort he
was focusing into his thrusts. Each snap of his hips slapped his skin against your own and his fingers
continued to work the flesh of your ass in his hand to give him a better view of the action.

“How are you always so damn tight,” he groaned from behind you. His hand left your hair and
found its way to the cheek that had been neglected. He slapped it once and spread your skin apart
more for his own enjoyment. “You would think after how many times you’ve been fucked that you
wouldn’t feel like this. You’ve been with so many men, haven’t you, fuck doll? Can you even count
as high as all the cocks your nasty pussy has taken?”

You closed your eyes and let the pain and shame from his words briefly take hold inside of you
before you pushed it down to deal with later. There were plenty of times Mr. Min had said
demeaning and insulting things during sex, you had agreed to their use when the two of you had first
started sleeping together, but something about the way he was constantly putting you down, tearing
at your self esteem felt like he was purposefully attacking you. It felt like he wanted to hurt you, to
inflict as much pain as he could. The part that was confusing you was that while you were angry at
him, infuriated by his words, and livid with the insinuations he was maing you couldn’t deny what
kind of an effect they had on you. Sure, the immediate response was to wince but once that pain had
settled somewhere hidden from sight you were surprised to find that the pressure in your lower
stomach had grown. For what felt like the millionth time in the past few days you tried to forget the
question of what that said about you. It was sure to be a painful and upsetting inner dialogue that you
didn’t want to taint the way your body felt in Mr. Min’s hands. “No sir,” you said in a weak voice to
play along with his game.

“I didn’t think so,” he sneered and thrust into you harder. His pace was punishing and it felt very
much as if his goal was to seek his own satisfaction, not worry about yours. With each roll of his hips
he pushed you into the door. Your cheek slid up and down the wooden surface with every push from
him and it had grown increasingly harder to control your moans. You certainly weren’t as loud as
you usually were with him and you hoped that he took notice. If he did notice you wondered if he
would even reflect on it and question why, would he even care.

His thrusts had grown sloppier and you knew he was reaching his end but you needed something
extra to push you towards yours. Usually, when Mr. Min wasn’t being cruel or punishing, he was
sure to never leave you high and dry. The few times that he had done so was in a longer game of
conquest, one where multiple encounters happened over the course of the day and he used the denial
of your orgasms as a way to fuel your neediness for the next round. It was clear to you that it stroked
his ego to know he could get you off so easily, or it usually did.

This encounter was unlike any others you had had with him. It was clear that something was off in
the chemistry between the two of you. It was as if something had slipped into the room with you
both and turned the air toxic, poisonous, and now the moment was far more caustic than usual. The
quips that usually had you falling for Mr. Min had turned acidic and his focus had changed from
your mutual satisfaction to merely using you as the fuck doll he had started referring to you as. There
was no generosity in the moment, it was purely about him seeking his climax as quickly as he could.

You tried to move one of your arms down to the heat between your legs to find some kind of
satisfaction, to help coax out your climax, but the angle prevented you from easily touching yourself.
When Mr. Min noticed your attempt he adjusted his hands to leave your rear and settle on your hips,
all the better to fuck into you harder. His pace was grueling, merciless, and the grunts from behind
you told you he was reaching his end. “I should fucking cum all over your stupid little dress then
send you back into the party like that. No one would be surprised. You know they already think
you're a dirty whore, right? The whole office already knows.” You didn’t have time to respond other
than to cry out at his punishing thrusts before you could feel his white hot seed shoot through you.
He gripped your hips as hard as he could and you were positive there would be bruises, signs that he
had been there, in the morning. He leaned over you and the sound he made when he came sounded
like an equal mix of a moan and an angry roar. He only relaxed for a few seconds before he pulled
himself out of you, stroked his dick to clean the residue off of him, and then wiped his hand on your
ass.

Without saying another word he walked away from you and began collecting his clothes off the
floor. Your body was still hot and desperate but your skin turned cold as soon as he left you. “What
the hell is your problem tonight,” you finally snapped and readjusted your panties and dress before
turning to face him.

“What do you mean,” he asked without looking towards you. He slipped his boxers back on and
worked on his pants without so much as a glance your way.
“What do I mean? Why are you acting like such a fucking ass?”

“You are going to have to be more specific,” he scoffed and still refused to look at you.

You watched him dress in amazement. Mr. Min was usually blunt and certainly not everyone’s cup
of tea, but the way he had treated you that night was absurd even for him. “You don’t think you
acted different at all tonight? You don’t, I don’t know, maybe want to apologize for anything you
may have said or done?”

He looked at the wall, his lips pursed, as he buttoned his shirt. After a brief moment of reflection he
finally replied back with a chirpy voice that grated on your nerves, “nope. Can’t think of anything.”

Your eyes blew wide. “We talked about calling me ‘whore’ and ‘slut’ and things like that before. I’m
fine with that but you completely crossed the line tonight.”

He finally looked at you with a bored stare, his head slightly cocked to the side, as he worked his tie.
“In what way, dollface?”

It felt like if it were physically possible steam would have billowed out of your ears like a cartoon
character. “Are you shitting me right now? How about telling me that the whole office thinks I’m a
slut? Or calling my dress stupid and tacky? Or mocking me for trying to dress up for the party?”

He chuckled and shook his head as he finally put his suit jacket on. “Have you even looked at
yourself? It’s not my fault your dress is tacky. I know how much you make, surely you could afford
something that isn’t from a charity shop. And your makeup looks like a child did it with their leftover
fingerpaints.” He paused as he studied his reflection in a glass door to a cabinet. His slender fingers
pulled and combed through his blonde locks until they were just where he wanted them then he
turned back towards you again. “And as far as all the other employees knowing about your whoring
around perhaps they don’t but they certainly will when you go out looking like that. You look
absolutely wrecked. I don’t want to brag but you look like you’ve been fucked by multiple men at
once, like you just got out from a gang bang or something. Well,” he said with a laugh, “I guess I
don’t have to explain what a gang bang is to you. You’ve probably had your fair share.”

You were stunned. Never had a man ever spoken to you that way before and certainly not a man you
were interested in getting to know better. You wanted to reply, could feel some type of insult on the
tip of your tongue, but Mr. Min beat you to it. “I don’t know why you are so surprised that I think of
you this way. When you came into my office that day you were looking for a date, not just a fuck,
am I right? You even asked me to take you on one and I refused. Did you ever stop and think about
why?” He walked towards you, his eyes were unforgiving and refused to look away from you, his
voice turned low and menacing. “I can smell a disgusting whore from a mile away and you reek of
one. You coming into my office and having the audacity to blackmail me into taking you on a date
was so,” he laughed derisively, “pathetic. As if I would ever date someone like you. I don’t know a
man who would, honestly. And then, as if you wanted to prove my point, you jumped at the chance
to be my sex slave. That’s what you are, you realize it right? You are my own personal fuck doll.
You come when I call, you do as I ask, and you take what I give you, albeit with more sass than I
would appreciate, but a good fuck is a good fuck,” he said with a shrug.

It felt as if you were drowning. Your throat had seized up and your lungs refused to work. It was as
if your body was trying to shut itself down, like it could protect you if it just stopped working,
stopped feeling. “What?” It was all you could manage to choke out.

“Oh? Did I offend you? Are you surprised? In what way? Have I ever led you on to believe that I
wanted anything more than sex from you? No, I haven’t. I’ve made my intentions very clear from the
beginning. You are lucky that I am so kind, honestly. There are a lot of men who would toy with
your emotions just to get the very same thing I am after. You should take a look around you because
I think your new friend, Jeon, is one of them.” He stopped and watched the way your brows creased,
the way the corner of your lips turned downwards, parted as if you wanted to say something but
couldn’t. Not even the shine in your eyes stopped him. “Would that surprise you, huh? Surely you
aren’t that stupid. He just started working here, right? What has it been now? Two, three weeks?
And yet he is incredibly smitten with you so quickly. He shows up every morning with coffee like
this is some kind of sappy chick flick and yet he ogles you from across the room every time you bend
over. He’s not even subtle about it but I guess you are just too blind to see it. Even I have caught him
palming himself under his desk while you got coffee. The kid wants nothing more than to fuck you
but you seem to be under some kind of delusion that he might actually care for you. Let me make this
perfectly clear,” he said and closed the remaining distance between the two of you, “men can tell
when a girl is easy. Like I said, I can smell a whore from a mile away and I’m sure Jeon and every
other guy in the office can too. And if they can then they surely have caught a whiff of you.”

Every time he opened his mouth, every word that he let meet air, felt like knives running through
you. Mr. Min was an observant man, you knew that, but you didn’t know that he could pinpoint with
such accuracy your weaknesses. For as little as you knew about him -- you didn’t even know his first
name for god’s sake -- he seemed to know exactly where to strike to inflict the most pain in you that
he could. He stood in front of you, a cruel smirk on his lips and his eyes nearly pitch black, as he
waited for you to respond. You couldn’t form any words, still reeling from all the things you had
begun to think about yourself being confirmed by the man you had been so interested in. It was all
you could do to keep yourself from crying in front of him. You absolutely refused to let him have the
satisfaction, it was the last and only thing you could do to defend yourself.

When you remained quiet and your eyes dropped to the floor he took it as his sign that you weren’t
going to fight back. He pushed against your shoulder with the back of one of his hands, as if you
were so filthy and disgusting that he didn’t want to touch you, and moved you out of the way of the
door. “Oh, by the way,” he said as if it was an afterthought. “Jeon seems to be pretty naive about
women like you. He probably thinks that if you are with him then you will only be with him. So it
would probably be in your best interest not to have sex with him tonight. If you do then he will know
I was here first. He’ll see my cum and I don't think he would like it too much that his precious little
angel snuck away from him on their date to get fucked by another man. Better keep your legs closed
tonight, dolllface.” With that he slipped through the door and left you standing alone in the office.

It was some time before you could manage to process a thought clearly enough to get out of the
office. You simply stood there, in the same spot he had moved you to with such carelessness, and
stared at the door he had left through. You felt at once hollow inside and completely overwhelmed.
Never had you felt like there were so many emotions and things you needed to express that your
body simply shut down but there you were. You didn’t notice your tears at first but when you did
you could only smile that you had managed to keep them hidden from Mr. Min. You wiped your
cheeks furiously to try to dry the tears and hopefully clean up some of the lipstick he had mentioned
you had smudged.

You looked a right mess. That was something solid, something to hold onto, something tangible and
real that you could fix. When you finally inspected your face in the same glass cabinet that Mr. Min
had checked his own reflection in you found that you had fixed your hair and makeup well enough
to make it out of the event hall without looking like a train wreck. It was a small victory but you held
onto it like a child would a doll after a disaster. You briefly acknowledged that you had resorted to
something so small being so meaningful but in the moment it was all you had.

When you finally emerged from the manager’s office you continued to wipe your cheeks. Tears still
fell but you figured if you kept your head down and immediately headed for the exit no one would
notice. As soon as you appeared from the swinging doors that led from the staff section into the event
hall you made a beeline for the door you had entered the party through, desperate to get out from
under the same roof as Mr. Min. You hadn’t even made it ten feet before someone grabbed your arm
and in a lighthearted voice said, “hey, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You knew immediately it was Jungkook and you froze in his grasp. You were very aware of the
tears that still dampened your cheeks and that Mr. Min’s cum still leaked down your thighs. “I’m just
going to go home, Jungkook. I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” you said quickly without looking back
at him and tried to walk forward but his grip on your elbow tightened.

“Hey, what’s wrong,” he asked in a much quieter voice.

You took a deep breath and tried not to focus on anything Mr. Min had said. You turned towards
Jungkook and faked a smile, “nothing is wrong. I just am a little tired so I’m going to go home.”

His eyes went wide as soon as he saw your face and you knew immediately that he didn’t buy your
act. His mouth formed a straight line and when his eyes returned to their normal size they seemed
intent on studying you. “Come here,” he whispered and pulled you into the nearest corner of the
event hall. You were secluded there, as well as you could be in a room full of your co workers and
bosses, and he led you to rest your back in corner. He stood in front of you with his own back
towards the crowd, as if he was trying to block anyone from seeing you. “What happened? Are you
okay?”

You focused on your smile again and tried to make it as bright as possible. It was futile, and a part of
you knew that, with tears still running down your face. “No, really, I’m fine.”

He frowned then with his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “What did he do to you?”

Your smile faded comically fast and you pursed your lips to at least keep yourself from outright
frowning. “Nothing that I didn’t deserve,” you said weakly. His eyes refused to leave your face so
you dropped yours to his chest. It was much less intimidating.

“What does that mean,” Jungkook asked and as his mind ran through the possibilities his voice ran
faster. “Did you get into a fight? Did he hit you? Did he-,” he started then swallowed loudly before
he continued, his voice nearly a whisper. “Did he rape you?”

You couldn’t help the way your lips curled at the ends ever so slightly at his concern but they
immediately fell again as you remembered all the things Mr. Min had said. “No, no, no. He didn’t do
that. He just said some things that are probably true and I just didn’t want to hear them.”

Jungkook studied you for a moment longer before he finally asked, “what things?”

You really didn’t want to repeat them for fear that if you said them they really would be true. You
couldn’t imagine a way the night could get worse than if you spoke them out loud and Jungkook
confirmed them. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” you finally whispered. Jungkook seemed to
respect your response and the two of you stood in silence for a moment. Your head was still dipped
to look at his chest instead of his face and you were acutely aware that Mr. Min was somewhere in
the room, possibly even watching you. The last thing you wanted was for him to see you crying
because of what he had said.

Jungkook brushed his knuckles over your cheek to dry your tears and the fondness expressed by the
simple action was so foreign that you forgot how to breathe for a moment. It wasn’t like you had
never been in a relationship that was caring and committed before Mr. Min had corrupted you but a
part of you had forgotten just how warm and nice someone’s genuine concern could feel. “He’s an
ass. Anyone that makes you feel like this and just leaves you here to fend for yourself can’t be
anything less than that,” he said in a low voice, an attempt you could only think was out of concern
for you. People were close by, co workers, supervisors, important clients, and all of them people you
never wanted to see you cry in the corner of a hotel event hall.

“Thanks, Jungkook,” you said softly and tried to smile at him.

“Hey,” he said and his knuckles left your cheek to hook under your chin and lift your face to meet
his slowly. “You don’t have to smile around me if you don’t feel like it. There’s nothing worse than
forcing a smile when you just want to cry, I know. You don’t have to force yourself to be anything
or do anything around me, just be yourself.”

You laughed softly and watched as he smiled at the sound. His smile was soft and genuine though
his eyes still shone with concern. “Even when I’m a mess like this,” you asked with a smile and
wiped the cheek he hadn’t tended to, a streak of dark mascara remained on your hand afterwards.

“You’d be surprised how pretty you are even now. I shouldn’t be surprised anymore but I seem to
always be taken aback by it. Every single time.” Mr. Min’s warning about Jungkook only wanting
you for sex flashed through your head but the idea seemed so alien, so at odds with the sweet and
gentle man who stood before you that you couldn’t find yourself agreeing with his opinion of the
younger man.

Your chest felt so light in his hands, every word eased the weight off your soul if even only
temporarily. You were in trouble. “I’m sorry to ruin your night like this.”

Neither one of you had moved, your back still pressed against the corner and he hovered in front of
you with one hand placed against the wall next to your head. He acted as a wall to the rest of the
hall, a barrier against their stares, judgements, and Mr. Min himself who had disappeared somewhere
in the crowd. His fingers were still hooked under your chin lightly. His touch was warm and his
breath rushed against your skin in waves of heat. “Nonsense. All I wanted out of this night, the only
reason I came, honestly, was to see you.”

You didn’t deserve him. It was all too clear to you after this night that if anything happened between
the two of you, you would only leave him tainted, damaged, and ruined. Mr. Min may have been
wrong about Jungkook’s character but he wasn’t wrong about the type of person you were, of that
you were sure. You had been this sweet man’s date and you had, just as Mr. Min said, left him at the
table to go fuck another man behind his back. He was too good for you and yet you were the first
one to move.

Your lips landed against his with your eyes shut tightly as if you could dream up a different ending if
you tried hard enough. He froze for only a split second, it was hardly even noticeable before he
moved his lips against yours, his hand left your chin to rest against the back of your neck to bring
you even closer to him. You wondered if you could lose yourself, forget about the night and all it’s
terrible mistakes and insults, in that one kiss. Your hands found purchase in the lapels of his suit and
just as you were about to deepen the kiss he pulled away from you with his hands wrapped around
both of your wrists. His cheeks were a blazing red, his eyes wide with a strange mix that you
couldn’t read, and before you could speak he placed one last chaste kiss against your lips. He pulled
back, just far enough for his forehead to rest against your own, as he caught his breath. He was
buying time and you couldn’t help but prepare yourself for him to reject you. After all, it was
obvious to everyone that you didn’t deserve him. You had just been crying over another man after
all.

“Not here. Not like this,” he finally said in a husky voice. “Let me take you on that date you
promised me first.”
 There was no way you could have known but just beyond a group of your co workers, who
whispered hushed gossip amongst themselves as they watched you two, stood Mr. Min. His date
clung to his arm as an important client talked business but the only thing he could focus on was the
two of you.

“What the hell is this,” a shrill voice interrupted the moment with Jungkook. You both turned to see
Yoojung pulling at his jacket sleeve to pull him away from you. “What the hell did you do to her?
Why is she crying?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Jungkook said and held up both of his hands in a bid for innocence.

“Then why is she crying,” Yoojung spat and grabbed your arm to pull you away from him.

“Yoojung,” you started but once again the two of them started talking around you, completely
ignoring you though you were the topic of conversation.

“I didn’t make her cry,” Jungkook said then stopped when he remembered where he was and who
might be watching or listening. “I didn’t make her cry, Yoojung. He did.”

Yoojung’s eyes widened after a brief moment that her drunken mind needed to catch up. “He did,”
she asked and first she looked at Jungkook for confirmation and then to you. “You need to end it
with him,” she finally said in a very sober voice for how far gone she was.

“I know. I’m going to,” you said with a solemn nod.

“I’m taking you home,” Yoojung proclaimed and handed her glass to Jungkook. “We’re going home
now,” she announced louder than was necessary.

A tall man with broad shoulders turned at her announcement. He had been standing a few feet away,
casually waiting for Yoojung to come back to him, when he had been caught off guard by her
sudden need to leave. “You’re leaving? But what about tonight? All the things we talked about?”

Yoojung looked sad for a moment but her frown was replaced with a look of determination. “I’m
sorry, Minsung, but it looks like you will have to enjoy the company of your hand tonight. Maybe
some other time,” she said with a nod, as if that was a completely normal thing to say.

Minsung stood speechless as Yoojung pulled you out of the building behind her. You managed to
give one last wave to Jungkook, to assure him you were relatively okay, but he was staring off into
the crowd of the event hall. You couldn’t see it but his eyes were trained on Mr. Min. There was no
way you could have known but just beyond a group of your co workers, who whispered hushed
gossip amongst themselves as they watched the interaction between the four of you, stood Mr. Min.
His date clung to his arm as an important client talked business but the only thing he could focus on
was the image he had seen of you kissing Jungkook

Chapter End Notes

Originally posted on Tumblr by ellieljade as Chapter 03

 Chapter 04
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

He wasn’t bothered by seeing you and Jeon kiss. If anyone had asked Yoongi he would have denied
it. The image of Jeon leaned over, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck, your tear and
mascara stained cheeks tinted pink, and the way your eyes fluttered close was most certainly not
something that popped into his mind frequently. He had no qualms with you being the one to have
kissed Jeon, because he was certain from his vantage point that had most certainly been what
happened. He just wasn’t bothered by it at all. The fact that he left the party immediately after
watching Yoojung drag you out of the building was merely because he was tired. He left Matilda at
the party without speaking another word to her. He just pushed himself away from the wall he had
leaned against while he watched you with Jeon and left her there. But he completely did not care at
all. The reason the blinds to the glass wall of his office had been permanently opened for two days
was because he was keeping an eye on employees. It had absolutely nothing to do with watching
you and the people who stopped by your desk during the day.

Sure, he had noticed that Jeon still brought you coffee and some form of baked goods every morning
like some love struck child but he had only made a note of that because he was the boss and needed
to know what his employees were up to. He had also noticed that you had come to work the past two
days in pants, something you hadn’t done in ages, and he made a mental note of that too – but only
because he had received complaints from your supervisors before about your work attire. It also
hadn’t gone unnoticed that every time Jeon departed from your desk he would catch Yoongi’s eyes
in a dark and threatening stare. He had made a note of that too for future reference in case Jeon
decided to become aggressive at work. It was nothing more than that.

In short, the argument between you and Yoongi, the kiss between you and Jeon, the fact that you
hadn’t spoken to him since that night, none of it bothered him. Life continued on as usual for him.
He had had to masturbate more often than he was comfortable with because he was certain you
wouldn’t respond to his texts but that had been his own doing after all. He knew what the
consequences of ranting the way he had were. Everything was fine. He was completely fine with the
way things were. If someone had asked him about it he would have made sure that they understood
he was totally at ease. Never better.

Of course, the amount of pens on his desk that bore teeth marks might have said differently. It was a
stupid habit he had picked up as a kid and he wasn’t sure why it had reemerged the morning after the
party but he wasn’t concerned. Sure, he wasn’t sleeping through the night anymore but he was
certain that had everything to do with his increased coffee consumption and nothing to do with how
he couldn’t get the image out of his head of you obviously trying to hold back your tears in that
stupid manager’s office. The way your lip was tucked between your teeth, your brows
simultaneously raised and wrinkled, your eyes filled with an obvious shine, the tip of your nose
reddening with the threat of impending tears. That was the image that haunted him when he was
alone in his bed while his eyelids were snapped shut in a desperate bid to coax sleep. But he was
positive it was the coffee.

It wasn’t like you were anything special. You never had been, of that he was certain. The first time
he had met you, your first day at the job, was as your supervisor led you on a tour of who’s who in
the company. It was entirely forgettable other than his world was in a freefall at the time. His father,
the CEO of the company for decades, the man who had sprouted the business out of his own blood,
sweat, and tears, had died of a sudden stroke and left the company completely directionless. His
mother insisted what his father would have wanted was to keep the company in the family but
Yoongi’s older brother had adamantly rebuked the idea of becoming the head at such a young age.
Yoongi suspected his brother’s refusal had more to do with his desire to continue living abroad rather
than some noble concept of responsibility but he never said a word.

No one had expected Yoongi’s father to pass before he was fifty and though he had left direction for
the company to be passed on to his sons the only one who seemed confident in the idea was his wife.
The board, Yoongi’s older brother, and Yoongi himself were positive that the company needed an
experienced and steady hand to lead in a time of utter confusion and yet his mother was insistent.

She met every day with the board members. At first she tried to appeal to their humanity, to tell them
stories of how her husband had dreamed of the day one of his sons would take on where he left off,
tales of his love and admiration for his boys, but as far as Yoongi was concerned they were merely
lies. His father was a man with a great public relations team as far as he was concerned. The
community knew him as a staunch defender of the impoverished, the destitute, and the defenseless.
They knew of the hours and millions he gave to charities but they didn’t know of the man behind the
mask.

The truth was his father was a cruel and determined business man. For as many hours as he spent on
charity work to help the downtrodden in the community he made sure to spend an equal amount of
time stomping on the same kind of people in less known parts of the world, as long as it added zeros
to his bank account. For every dollar he tossed towards his image he spent ten fold on grooming his
sons to take his place. Private education, accompanying him on business trips, endless tutors, and
countless hours spent in meetings that no child had business attending. Nothing was too good for his
boys, the future of his company. Nothing was too good for his family. Nothing, except, all the lies
his mother spewed to the board after his death.

His money was good enough for his wife and sons but his time was far out of their reach. Yoongi
could remember his older brother’s tenth birthday and the way that he had remained stone faced
when a nanny told him his father was “very sorry” but he “got tied up with work” and wouldn’t be
able to come. Yoongi had been all of seven at the time and, in his mother’s absence, rubbed his older
brother’s back and spouted as many words as he could think of to try to tell him that their father
would have been there if he could have. He had seen such actions on TV, characters consoling each
other when they were sad, and thought that was what was best to do. He had even seen the nanny’s
do it a few times to each other but had never experienced it within his family. He could still
remember the way his brother had scoffed and rolled his eyes before he tossed Yoongi’s hand off of
him with a derisive, “you really are an idiot. Do you know that? Father isn’t busy, he probably didn’t
even call. The nanny made it up because she thinks I’m just as dumb as you. I’m not a child. I see
what is happening here. You’re the one who needs to grow up before you get eaten alive.”

It wasn’t long after that that he started noticing what he had been oblivious to for the first seven years
of his life. The lipstick on his father’s collars when he would come home, the nearly ever present
stringent smell of, what he had assumed at his ripe young age to be, mouthwash on his father’s
breath, the low arguments that emanated from his parents bedroom at night when they thought their
sons were asleep. Someone from a normal and functional family would have expected the arguments
to be about his father’s obvious affairs and his disdain for putting forth any effort to hide them. The
truth was that Yoongi had heard far too many financial and business terms thrown into the arguments
over the years to believe that his parents were in any kind of romantic relationship.

When he was twelve he had even been brazen enough to ask his mother about the affairs and the
way his father sometimes even brought the women home with him. His mother had smiled and stared
at him over her coffee with a look that could only be described as filled with pity before she said in a
low voice, “love doesn’t exist in this world for people like us, Yoongi. Love is for those people your
father helps out with his charity work. When you lose sight of your goal, when you lose focus
because some pretty little thing smiles at you, that’s how you lose control and end up like those poor
saps.”

“So, you don’t love father?”

“If I were a lesser woman maybe I would and then perhaps I would care what or who he fucked,”
she said with a shrug before turning back to her coffee as if it ended the conversation. “The truth is as
long as he brings home the money that he does then I couldn’t care less about what or who he does
in his spare time.”

His mother was shrewd, conniving, and often times was more driven than his father. So it came as no
surprise to him that when the board seemed to be unmoved by her sympathetic ploys to place her
sons at the head of the company, her futile attempts to appeal to their humanity, that she moved on to
more acute tactics like blackmail. While his father worked to make money and to ensure that his sons
would pick up in his place, his mother’s part of their deal was to appear as arm candy when called
upon and, more importantly, protect the legacy. Somewhere, in some storage unit or safe hidden in
the city, was decades of results from private investigators. Pictures of the board members, transcripts
of their phone calls, recorded rendezvous with women who weren’t their wives, stolen bank account
statements, all of it hidden for years until the moment was needed to attack. And attack his mother
had.

Before long, within days actually, his mother had persuaded every member of the board to back her
claim of the boys’ rightful throne. The question then was which brother would become king.
Yoongi’s brother was approached first. It was only sensible. He was three years older than Yoongi,
had worked at the company longer, and his personality was like the second coming of his father. He
had rejected the offer, positive that neither boy was ready to lead such a company and that for the
sake of their fortune and their families legacy someone else needed to be brought in, if only
temporarily. His brother hadn’t deemed it necessary to fly home for his father’s funeral so his mother
had laughed about the proposition over the phone and told him that she would die before someone
else was at the head of the company. She let him know, in no uncertain terms, that if he was so
happy living abroad that he couldn’t sacrifice for the family then he might as well stay there and
never come home. So she set her aim on Yoongi.

When she approached him about taking his father’s place he had denied it and stated he didn’t think
he was ready to lead. He was merely thirty, had only had a few years of fulltime work experience at
the company after he achieved his masters degree, and, truth be told, he would have much rather not
have all the responsibility on his shoulders. His mother, already rebuked by her first born, wouldn’t
hear of it. She dug her claws into him, unwilling to let her final son, her last opportunity, turn his
back on the family, on the money, on her. As it turned out his mother hadn’t only been spying on the
board for all those decades, she had also sicced her private investigators on her sons.

She showed up at Yoongi’s condo one day wearing a sweet and disarming smile and carrying a
manilla folder in her bag. Yoongi, ever the dedicated son he was, invited his mother inside with only
a curious but brief thought to why she would ever appear at his door, something she had never done
since he had moved out of her house. When he went to fetch her a glass of wine he came back to
find his mother had spread the contents of the folder across his dining table.

Inside the manilla folder were pictures of Yoongi’s affair with one of his long time tutors, the twenty
five year old woman he had lost his virginity to when he was merely thirteen. He had insisted on
calling it an affair, had bragged to his friends about his sexual conquest with an older woman, and
when a teacher overheard and brought up the rape to his parents they merely paid the tutor a sum of
money that Yoongi never found the details on and hired a male tutor instead. Pictures of his naked
and scrawny childhood frame laid across his table for any and all eyes to see. There was a
thumbdrive clipped to one of the pictures and Yoongi didn’t have to take long to guess that it was
videos of their rendezvous. It occurred to Yoongi that his parents had clearly known about the rape
long before his teacher confronted them but only put an end to it once the threat of going to the
police or the public had been thrown around. They had always said she was the best in the business
and apparently his safety was a price they were willing to pay if he got into the most prestigious
schools.

Strewn across the table also laid evidence of grade corruption and the money Yoongi had spent to
improve his standing at school. Once his tutor had been fired Yoongi threw himself into full fledged
teenage rebellion. He started drinking, taking any drugs he was offered, and had grown an intense
dislike for his family’s wealth. He came to think of it as a burden but soon realized what it allowed
him to get away with. After discovering that during his partying his grades had suffered he had
attempted to woo his teacher with the same moves his tutor had used on him but she seemed
disgusted by the idea of sex with teenage boys. So he had set his sights higher and discovered that
the dean’s son had a medical condition that required care at a children’s research hospital. Said
research hospital happened to have a building named after his father, one that was built after many
hefty donations. One simple visit to the dean’s office armed with a disarming smile and some choice
words and suddenly Yoongi was sitting pretty at the top of his class.

Intermittently distributed on the wooden surface of the table was official documentation of a drunken
hit and run that his parents had paid to cover up when he was only sixteen. He had convinced the
maid’s son, Hoseok, to drink with him one night. Hoseok had refused at first but found Yoongi to be
unsurprisingly well versed in persuasion. Before he knew it the two boys were laid out across the
concrete walkway that lined the river in their city. People walked all around them, carrying shopping
bags, muttering about the drunken teenagers pretending they were in a field by a river in some
countryside neither one of them had seen outside of the paintings that lined the walls in Yoongi’s
house. The boys had pointed to the darkened sky that held no stars, long ago having lost the battle to
the city’s lights, and pretended to find the Big Dipper. It was a relatively harmless night, one that
plenty of teenagers had probably experienced at some point in their short lives, until Yoongi elected
to kick his personal driver out of the car under threat of firing him and sending him back to his wife
like “the pathetic dog” he was. Hoseok had protested, begged Yoongi to let the driver take them
home, had even offered to buy another bottle of liquor that they could open on the way but, once
again, Yoongi had proven to be the dominant persona in the relationship. As it so often ended, what
Yoongi wanted, Yoongi got. So when they turned a corner at a sharp speed, music blasting, bass
thumping throughout every surface of the car, they almost missed the thud. The body rolled across
the hood, over the windshield, and over the roof to land somewhere with a lifeless thump against the
pavement. They almost missed it but they weren’t quite that far gone yet.

Hoseok had been the first to react with a terrified shriek, a string of expletives rolled out of his mouth
as he frantically grasped at the door handle. Yoongi meanwhile clutched the steering wheel, his bony
knuckles white, his eyes wide, dilated, and lost somewhere in a panicked stare towards the
nothingness that sat in front of the car. He hadn’t even seen anyone, he was sure of that. He only got
out of the car when Hoseok had practically dragged him amidst tears and the snot that ran freely from
his nose. Yoongi had stood motionless over the elderly man’s body for minutes while Hoseok took
the initiative to call for help after swiping Yoongi’s phone out of his pocket. Yoongi had seen how
the limbs were twisted at unnatural angles, how a pool of crimson surrounded him, his mouth
stretched in a way that seemed physically impossible had it still been attached to the rest of his skull,
and for a moment he thought that it was all a dream but then the sent of iron finally hit his nose.
Almost immediately he hurled right at the feet of the man, his shoes lost somewhere between the
crosswalk and the intersection. He was suddenly sober, had never thought more clearly in his life. It
was as if everything made sense, time moved in slow motion, and he was sure if he had paid more
attention in school he would have been able to answer some complicated algorithm with his mind so
focused. He snatched the phone out of Hoseok’s hand and called his father, his fingers only a little
uncontrollable as they shook. Within hours the responding officer and his chief had been paid off, the
entire incident written down as a hit and run with no evidence to go by. The documentation on the
table was the only proof that Hoseok, Yoongi, and his vomit had ever been at the scene of the crime.

The most recent crime his mother had documented and thrown across the table was the woman he
had paid to get an abortion when he was twenty. He was young and she was beautiful. He hadn’t
lost his rebellious streak in college. He was convinced his parents were old, stuffy and, while under
the influence of marijuana at a party, he had determined that they were wrong about love too. Surely
they had to be because the way his heart fluttered every time the pretty girl smiled his way wasn’t
normal while he was high. She had worn a short skirt, one that exposed her creamy thighs, and a
revealing top that graciously insisted on pulling away from her body every time she leaned forward
to take a hit off of his pipe, exposing the most tantalizing view of breasts that Yoongi had ever seen.
Her name was Samantha or Sarah or something that started with an S but it was much less important
than the way she moaned his name. He had pulled her away from their peers, found refuge in his
friend, and drug dealer’s, closet and asked her if she would like to put her “pretty lips around another
pipe”. Later on he would cringe over the line, try to forget the whole exchange had ever happened,
that he had ever been so foolish to believe in a feeling as whimsical and frivolous as love.
Unfortunately she had contacted him weeks later to tell him she had missed her period. As he always
did he went to call his parents but Hoseok had stopped him. No one else would have had the ability
to reach Yoongi but Hoseok had always had a special pull. He asked Yoongi why he didn’t “man
up” and “take responsibility”. Yoongi thought he had a point so he forgoed the intermediate step of
his parents and went to the bank to make a withdrawal himself. Hours later Susie or Sally or
whoever she was had agreed to an abortion, her eyes wide like a wolf about to eat it’s prey when he
had told her how much he would pay her to keep quiet. Yoongi had been particularly proud of his
insistence on accompanying her to the abortion to make sure the process was complete before she
was handed the fat wad of cash. Hoseok ended up not speaking to Yoongi for a year after he found
out how his words had been misconstrued.

His mother leaned back in her chair at Yoongi’s dining table, one hand holding her wine glass and
the other checking her phone, as if the conversation they were having, the blackmailing of her own
son, was less important than whatever was hidden on the screen. “If not for me all of this would have
been exposed years ago and your career would be over. You would be over. I made you, do you
understand?” She finally turned to look at him, her eyes cold, and he could remember how her voice
had dropped impossibly low. “I made you and I can take you apart any time I want to.”

The truth was that most of his memories of his mother involved her quietly studying the people
around her. “You can learn a lot about someone based on what they do when they think no one is
looking,” she had told him once. She had spoken out of the blue, caught a young Yoongi off guard
as he lingered by the elevator outside of his father’s office. They had just dropped in to “surprise
him”, as his mother put it, and she had spent most of the short visit with her eyes trained out the door
at the man whose desk sat across the room from his father’s office. Shortly afterwards his father’s
employee was arrested for embezzlement of company funds. Yoongi never figured out if the
employee was who his mother had meant that day or if he was still oblivious to what the adults did
over his head. When it came down to it his mother was his father’s best public relations agent. She
kept the family’s secrets under lock and key and still managed to watch out for potential threats. As
he grew older Yoongi wondered who truly ran the business.

It was never clear if she was always too busy to care for her children the way all the mothers did on
TV or if she just didn’t have a motherly instinct somewhere in her bony body. Yoongi couldn’t
remember a hug from her that wasn’t for show in front of prying eyes. When he had scraped his knee
as a child of six while playing basketball with Hoseok it was his mother who had said she was “far
too busy for your childishness”. She had kicked out her leg at him as if her son was an injured stray
dog she didn’t want to get too close to her, afraid he might latch on and never let go. It was Hoseok’s
mother, the family maid, who had pulled the crying child into her breast and brought him into the
kitchen so his knee could be attended to. She lifted his small frame onto the kitchen counter and
bandaged his knee just as she would have if it had been her own son, even placed a soft kiss just
above the bandage and a part of Yoongi could still remember the way her lips had felt so warm and
loving against his torn skin despite the way they peeled and chapped. Once his tears had dried and
the snot wiped from under his red nose she had given him a cookie for “being such a big boy” and
not bothering his mother too much. She patted his head and sent him on his way with a smile that,
older Yoongi realized, was full of pity and sympathy.

It wasn’t as if his mother had ever been a warm person but the change in her demeanor, the way her
face was like stone as she forced him to bend to her will, was a terrifying new level of depraved.
Any and all remnants of a familial loyalty needed to be severed. It was better for him this way,
healthier, less painful, and it was better for the business too. Everyone got what they wanted. A win-
win situation. The entire decision had taken him less than ten seconds and not a shred of it was
shown on his face.

Once he had properly agreed to his mother’s desire for him to run the company, fully aware he was
the second choice and only that because he was the last option, he sent her on her way without a bit
of remorse. Their relationship had always been strictly business and Yoongi felt a sense of power in
stomping on the part of him that craved her attention and affection. Craving affection made someone
weak, after all. His mother had made sure to teach him that.

So when your supervisor brought you into his office on your first day of work he had barely
registered your presence. He extended his hand, even looked in your eyes as he welcomed you to the
company, but the whole time his mind was on what piece of paperwork he needed to fill out next to
sign his soul over to his mother and the thing she loved most in the world, the company. The board
had made their hesitancy to trust the company to Yoongi well known and had insisted they move
their main office several floors lower in the building to save money, no doubt because they expected
him to fail fabulously and needed a bit of a cushion. Pressure was a thing he would have to learn to
cope with, he understood that, but to walk into a position that he didn’t want in the first place and do
it knowing that everyone expected him to fail was an entirely different beast.

He didn’t truly notice you for a few weeks. Until the day he had caught you unbuttoning your blouse
in the sweltering heat of the office. The buildings air conditioning was on the fritz yet again and even
Yoongi himself had abandoned his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves in the stuffy heat. He really
couldn’t blame his employees for taking risks with the dress code, especially if it kept them from
suffering from heat stroke. His eyes had been dancing across the room, a cursory check to make sure
everyone was working and still very much conscious at their desks, when he had landed on you.

At the time your desk was in the corner of the building, far away from the open windows that let in
the nearly nonexistent breeze, and your face was pulled into a scowl. He had lost his train of thought
as he stared at you. The employee he had been talking to still hammered away about excuses for
some report she had messed up but Yoongi could only stare at you as he tried to remember your
name. He knew you were new but the specifics, your name, your resume, your skills, none of it
remained in his head. He hadn’t intended to stare for so long but your fingers pulled your hair away
from your neck to wave your free hand frantically at the exposed skin in a desperate effort to cool it.

He really should have been listening to the employee droning on about the report but, just as he was
about to turn his attention back to her, you began fingering the top button of your blouse. Your eyes
darted around the room, your face still pulled into a scowl as you no doubt dared anyone to say
anything to you, but you failed to notice Yoongi’s eyes. You undid a second button and exposed a
fraction more of your chest. Your collarbones came first, then came the clear view of the smooth skin
just above your cleavage, and it felt like Yoongi couldn’t tear his eyes away. It had been so long
since he had properly gotten laid, his attention and time being better spent on the company, that even
the sight of you undressing had his complete focus. The employee he had been talking to had
become a distant murmur, something like the teacher from Peanuts, as he watched you flick open the
third button of your blouse. From his spot he had the advantage of seeing the colorful fabric of your
bra, just the edge really, and the enticing view of your cleavage. His eyebrow quirked up as he
allowed his mind to run wild with fantasies for a moment, just long enough for him to imagine how it
would look to cum all over the exposed skin he had been privileged to see, but he noticed that your
hands had fallen back to your lap. The peepshow was apparently over and he turned his attention
back to the employe who was still, somehow, continuing to drone on about the report. He hadn’t
noticed you watching him that time but it soon became clear that you enjoyed his leering.

A few days passed and the air conditioning still wasn’t fixed. The dress code had gotten even more
lax in the days following the initial system failure and many people had started wearing clothes that
would otherwise be inappropriate. Though Yoongi suffered from the heat too he, like every other
person in the office, was at least pleased with the ability to wear short sleeves and shorts to work
without reprimand. He also couldn’t deny that the amount of skin the woman in the office had
exposed was very pleasing to his eyes but he reminded himself that he needed to keep work and his
sex life separate. Of course, as it had turned out once he took control of the company, he hadn’t had
any free time to truly spend on his sex life. He was almost always in his office, courting clients and
investors, or meeting with the board.

He had tried to push the thought from his head as he went out to the work floor to get a drink from
the break room but as he stood against the door frame to the room, taking in the expanse of the area
and all the employees within it, he noticed you bent over another person’s desk. You were clearly
not working. You and the woman you chatted with were caught in some kind of animated
discussion, her hands flew around her head wildly as she complained about something Yoongi
couldn’t hear, and a huge smile broke across your face. You leaned further into her desk, your back
arching as you did, and rocked on your heels. From Yoongi’s viewpoint he could enjoy the way
your skirt clung to the curve of your ass and he granted himself permission to take a leisurely stroll
around the work floor in order to find a better angle to view the cleavage he could only glimpse from
his spot. He stalked around the floor and tried to keep his staring to a minimum until he found the
perfect spot along his office wall. He stared openly at that point, his eyes completely focused on the
swell of your breasts as they hung over your co-worker’s desk, exposed by the loose fabric of your
blouse unbuttoned sinfully low in the heat. You were still smiling and laughing and for that Yoongi
was grateful. Your chest jumped and jostled along with every syllable of your laugh and he had
nearly lost himself in a fantasy about what they would look like if you were bouncing along his cock
when he suddenly felt a pair of eyes on him. He looked up, met your eyes, and saw no shock or
offense held within them. If anything, he was sure he saw a coy playfulness. It was a risk, one his
mother would surely reprimand him for, but he had been deprived of women for so long thanks to
her and her demands for him to run the company that he felt a bit of that rebellious streak from his
younger years sneak back. Instead of turning away, averting his eyes and running away with his tail
in between his legs in hopes you wouldn’t cause a ruckus over his leering, he dropped his eyes back
to your exposed cleavage before returning his gaze to your own. He smirked, just enough to be
suggestive and mysterious, a mere flick of one end of his mouth before he turned and walked back
into his office.

He noticed after that that even though the air conditioning system had been fixed that you had
adopted a much different wardrobe than the first time he had noticed you. Suddenly your closet
appeared to only hold skirts that barely covered the top of your stockings, blouses that appeared to be
missing more buttons than they had, and pants so sinfully tight that he was sure he would have been
able to see your panty line (though he never did notice one and wondered if you had even been
wearing underwear). A flirtatious game had erupted between the two of you. You seemed to not
mind, perhaps even allowed and wanted, him to stare at you. Yoongi took every opportunity to
openly stare at you when he was on the work floor or when you flitted in front of the glass wall of
his office. For your own part he had caught you staring at him several times. Once, and he
remembered the occasion fondly for the ego boost it provided, he had caught you staring at his crotch
at the same time he had been staring at your chest. He was sure no one else had noticed, but he
certainly had, when your tongue dipped out of your mouth and absentmindedly licked a line across
your bottom lip before the tempting pink muscle disappeared again.

He fielded complaints from your supervisors about your wardrobe choices and selfishly decided not
to act on them. He couldn’t keep the supervisors from reprimanding you but he could at least stop
any disciplinary action from occurring. He reasoned that it was a defense tactic. If you were
disciplined or fired for your inappropriate clothing then you might lash out at him and toss out a
rumor about how he had been leering at you like some kind of sexual predator. You had no proof, of
course, but if it caught enough traction or if someone had seen him repeatedly watching you then the
rumor could find its way to the board and eventually to his mother. Neither of you won if that
happened.

It was as if you were determined to test him on the day you took the vacant desk in front of his
office. The desk hadn’t even been cleared for a day after an employee quit before you were
confidently sorting your personal items into the drawer. What teasing, tempting, and entirely too
short moments the two of you had shared suddenly seemed to happen every couple of hours. There
were countless times he had looked up from his desk to scan the work floor and make sure
everything was running smoothly that he caught your eye. You seemed to have developed a habit of
sitting parallel to your desk and allowing Yoongi long periods of time to leer at your legs while you
tossed teasing glances over your shoulder at him. A handful of times he had even looked up from his
desk at just the right time, as if you had some kind of mysterious telepathic pull over him, to find you
bent over your desk under some, possibly false, pretense of searching for something. You seemed to
take a special kind of pleasure in knowing he was watching you and Yoongi was more than happy to
oblige.

The day you had stormed into his office started out as a hectic blur. Yoongi had gotten drunk the
night before after an argument with his mother and had called a woman who had hit on him at a
fundraiser he had attended. They had slept together and in the middle of the night, when Yoongi
woke from his drunken stupor, he realized he had made a mistake and kicked the woman out of his
bed and out on the street. It wasn’t until the cold sobering light of morning that he realized just how
big the mistake was. His morning had started early with a call from his mother, a way no man likes to
begin the day. What surprised him was that she wasn’t continuing her lecture from the day before but
had chosen an entirely new topic as a reason to lay into him. As it turned out, the woman Yoongi
had brought home and kicked out on the streets after he had cummed all over her was the daughter of
one of the prime investors in a new company one of the board members had started. Yoongi wasn’t
sure how he was expected to know that, or how she knew of his late night rendezvous for that
matter, but it didn’t stop his mother from having to solve another problem he had caused. When he
was younger he didn’t mind his parents solving his problems but, now that he was thirty and the
CEO of the company, it had become embarrassing and emasculating.

What was even more humiliating was his brother calling from overseas. He had heard the news of
Yoongi’s screw up and apparently thought it was worthy of a phone call to deliver advice. “Just do
what Father did and find some broad to fuck anytime you call,” he said as if women would line up
for such an offer.

Yoongi scoffed into the phone, leaned back into his chair, and closed his eyes. “Oh yeah, why
hadn’t I thought of that? Just find a sex slave. It’s so obvious. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it
myself,” he said sarcastically.

“Well I wouldn’t phrase it that way,” his brother sighed. “Either find someone desperate enough to
do it or keep your dick in your pants. The board isn’t pleased with you being in Father’s seat and
Mother can only do so much to cover up your mistakes.”

He had been considering propositioning Yoojung if he could figure out the chance, her reputation for
dating her way through her co-workers was not hidden in the office, but, as it happened, you walked
through his door only mere minutes after he hung up with his brother. His advice was still fresh in his
mind and Yoongi couldn’t think of a better option at the time, certainly not when you practically
threw yourself at him.

“That is a count of every time you have checked me out at work,” you said with a smug smile, as if
you had cornered him.

He held up the post-it note and studied the tally marks on it before crumpling the paper and tossing it
into his waste basket. “Oh? You kept count,” he said with an amused drawl and turned his eyes back
to you. “It seems you missed a few. I thought I had made it more obvious than that. You must not be
that observant.” He didn’t have to try to keep his tone cold and emotionless, a skill he had learned
from his father when he was much younger. While you leaned over his desk and exposed you
cleavage to him, yet again, he struggled to think of anything else other than his brother’s advice to
find someone desperate enough to agree to any terms he gave.

“You really shouldn’t be leering after your employees like that,” you whispered in a seductive tone
and leaned further over his desk. The skin tight fabric of your blouse was tested with every breath
you took from your new position and Yoongi didn’t feel an ounce of remorse or guilt for openly
staring at your breasts when you seemingly displayed them so willingly for him.

“If certain employees dressed like an office worker and not a slut with a costume from a sex shop
then maybe I wouldn’t be tempted.” He knew he could get away with saying such things to you with
the ongoing flirtatious game you two were playing. You were up for his stares and suggestive smirks
but he waited with bated breath to see your reaction to him calling you such a degrading name.

“My point, Mr. Min–.” If anything your smirk deepened and your cheeks tinted under his stare.

His own lopsided grin stretched further across his face at your lack of admonishing him for such an
inappropriate name. It seemed that you were game to take your coquettish teasing further and that
was exactly what he needed. “Sir,” he corrected and leaned back in his chair. He took in your stance,
your displayed chest, your lips still parted in the middle of a sentence, and his voice deepened as his
smirk grew with a dark edge. “You can call me sir.”

Your lips formed another suggestive smirk and he was sure he had chosen the right woman for the
job. “My point, sir,” you said the last word with an emphasis that didn’t go undetected by him and
then darted your tongue out to wet your lips, “is if you intend to lust after an innocent employee who
is only trying to do her job then you should take said employee on a date first.”

There it was. It was too coincidental for you to show up in his office just after he had decided to find
someone to willingly debase themselves for his own sexual pleasure. You had come in with ulterior
motives. It was a date you were after, not sex. He cocked his head to the side while he very briefly
considered the offer before deciding that he wouldn’t make the same mistake as he had the night
before. “No thanks,” Yoongi said resolutely.

It was, admittedly, adorable the way your eyes widened and your mouth dropped in a panic. “What,”
you managed to croak out.

“I don’t date and I’m not interested in taking you on one.”

“Oh,” you mumbled and pulled away from his desk to try to straighten your clothes as if that would
suddenly make the conversation work appropriate. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” he said in a gruff voice and was pleasantly surprised to see that you reacted immediately.
Your hands stopped working at pulling down your skirt and you stared at him with wide and
expectant eyes. If you were this submissive while flirting than he couldn’t wait to see how quickly
you would respond to him telling you to get on your knees. You certainly were the perfect candidate
for this offer. “I said I didn’t want to date you. I said nothing about fucking you.”

“What?”

“You think I’m not going to fuck the whore that sits outside my office and tempts me day in and day
out? So here’s how it is going to work. I will have your number, you will not have mine. You will
never speak to me at work about anything not related to your job unless I instigate it. You will never
mention this to anyone. And, most importantly, you will answer all of my texts and phone calls and
do exactly as I say, when I say it. No questions asked. Does that sound like something you would be
interested in?”

You stared at him with those wide eyes for a moment before you whispered, “yes.”

“Yes what,” he growled. He was full of bravado, confident in himself at securing a deal that only
minutes earlier had seemed impossible.

“Yes sir,” you answered back in a whisper but he didn’t fail to notice the coquettish smile had
appeared on your face again.

“Good girl,” he mused and stood up from his seat as he let his eyes roam over you freely. “This is
going to be fun.” He stalked around his desk but never took his eyes off of your body and it wasn’t
until he had placed himself in the space left between you and his desk that he met your gaze again.
“So tell me, what are your rules,” he asked and leaned back into his desk.

“My rules?”

“Yes. Surely you have some ground rules you would like me to adhere to. I’m not a monster
afterall.”

Your eyes were wide and danced around the room as you tried to form an answer. “Okay, yeah. I do
have some rules.”

“Let’s hear them then,” Yoongi said with a shrug.

“No ass play.” You tired to say it without a hint of embarrassment but Yoongi was quite adept at
reading people. Your shoulders were slouched, your stare was trained on his nose and not on his
eyes, and one of your hands fidgeted with the end of your skirt. It amused Yoongi to see you try so
hard to fake your bravado in front of him. It was a little cute, he had to admit.

“What was it? An ex boyfriend a little too rough one day and now you’ve written it off entirely?”

“No,” you said and finally met his eyes with a firm stare. “I just don’t like it. Think you can follow
that rule?”
Yoongi hissed through his teeth as if he was struggling with the decision. He shook his head and
frowned. “I don’t know. I have to tell you I’ve been dying to grab your ass since I saw you bent over
a desk awhile ago. I don’t know if I could keep from touching it.”

You smirked and suddenly your shoulders were straight again. One little compliment and you
appeared to forget whatever nervousness you had had in front of him. “You can touch it all you
want. Just keep your dick out of it.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle while staring at the floor before he nodded, a smile still stretched
across his face. “Fair enough. I think I can handle that. How do you feel about names?”

“Like what?”

“I already called you slut once and you didn’t flinch. Tell me, why is that? Do you like it?” He
cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow at you.

Your lips quirked into a devilish and mysterious smile that Yoongi hadn’t seen you make before and
he couldn’t deny the enticing way it drew him in. “I certainly like the way it sounds coming from
you.”

Yoongi hadn’t expected such an answer and his eyes widened momentarily. He had definitely
picked the right woman. “Is that so? I assume then that you would also like it if I called you whore?”
You nodded and your lips stretched further into that coquettish smile that Yoongi was certain might
have been the sexiest smirk he had ever seen. “Cum dumpster? Bitch? Dirty girl? Dollface?”

You nodded to every name and once he was finished listing them you said in a sweet voice that
completely belied the seductive stare you directed at him, “dollface is pretty cute.”

One of Yoongi’s eyebrows quirked up at that. “You think so?” You nodded and, without thinking
about it, linked your arms behind your back. It was a subtle move but the position screamed
submission in front of him and thrust your chest forward. He stared openly at your breasts for a
moment before he returned his gaze to your eyes. “Alright, dollface. What other rules do you have?”

“Condoms,” you said matter of factly and Yoongi couldn’t suppress a groan. “I’m sorry, did you
really think any woman in this day and age would let you fuck her without protection?”

He licked his lips slowly as he studied you before he finally drawled, “what happened to the
submissive woman just a minute ago? Now you’re hounding me about condoms?”

“Being submissive doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.”

He rolled his tongue into his cheek as he considered a response. “Aren’t you on birth control?”

“I am but I don’t know where you’ve been. I’m agreeing to sleep with you not catch whatever you
may be carrying.” You crossed your arms in front of your chest and raised an eyebrow at him, “you
can take it or leave it.”

If he hadn’t just gotten off the phone with his brother he would have sent you out of his office but as
it stood he was in a rare rough spot. “Alright what about a compromise? Condoms until we both get
tested and share the results? Because honestly I’m not looking to catch whatever you may have
either,” he said with a biting edge.

You scoffed but bit your lip while you considered then finally nodded. “Fine. Deal.”

“Any other rules you want to set or can I finally fuck you?”
“No that should suffice.”

Yoongi considered mentioning the absence of a rule about being monogamous but thought better of
it for his own selfish reasons. It would be nice to have you on stand-by but if you weren’t going to
mention it then he wasn’t interested in cutting off his ability to sleep with anyone else. “Finally.
Come here,” he said and motioned with his chin for you to come closer. You obeyed without any
further arguing and for that he was grateful. His hands came to land naturally on your waist in order
for him to pull you the rest of the way into him. You stared up at him with doe eyes and once again
he was left to question how you could just turn off your confidence and stubbornness like a switch.
He wondered, if only briefly, if it was real, if any part of you that he had seen was authentic, but with
the way your breasts pressed against his chest he found that he just didn’t care.

“Please tell me you have a condom,” you whispered and Yoongi found it wonderfully adorable in an
innocent way when the entire time you had been in his office all he could think about was the way
you looked with a cock stuffed in your cunt.

“Relax, dollface. I don’t like them but I’m not an idiot either,” he said with a grimace and rolled his
eyes. “Middle drawer of my desk. Go fetch them.”

You gave him a pointed stare and spit, “I’m not a dog.”

“You sure are testy. I think the rules we agreed on were that you do what I say when I say it, were
they not?” You stared at him a moment longer before you finally sighed and pulled away from him
to retrieve the foil package as he had asked. You didn’t take your eyes off of him as you made your
way to stand in front of him again and when you thrust the package into his chest one edge of his lips
curled into a twisted smile. “Get on your knees.”

He regretted not feeling your lips on his for only as long as it took you to lower yourself obediently.
He wasn’t sure why he was so taken with the way you looked on your knees as you stared up at
him, your lips parted and covered in a demure pink lipstick that seemed oddly out of place with the
position you found yourself. From his vantage point he could see down the top of your blouse and
had yet another unabashed stare at your cleavage though he was sure, based on how often you
exposed it with a teasing smile flashed in his direction, that you didn’t mind how much he stared.
Your hands sat in your lap and the only telltale sign of your nerves was the nearly unnoticeable way
your fingertips fidgeted with the edge of your skirt, something that most would have missed but
Yoongi’s upbringing had taught him to take note of such small details in case they could be used as
ammunition later. “What are you waiting for,” he barked and tilted his head to the side in curiosity.
He was certain you weren’t dumb enough to not understand what he wanted.

“Your directions, sir,” you said with a giggle and it disarmed him momentarily. Surely that wasn’t a
normal reaction. You slipped so easily between the submissive woman in front of him and the brazen
vixen who had stormed into his office that he thought he might have stumbled upon a truly crazy
person, someone with multiple personalities or a broken mind.

He hesitated for a split second, though he was sure it wasn’t noticeable, while he cleared his throat. It
was a simple and overused tactic to buy time but he was confident you wouldn’t know that. “What
do you think I want you on your knees for? Undress me.”

Your fingers pulled at his belt first and Yoongi watched as your eyelashes dusted your cheeks while
you studied your work, his own hands dug into the edge of his desk to keep from lodging in your
hair and giving away how much he wanted this moment to happen. He could tell from the way your
hands brushed against the bulge in his pants, something he was sure you weren’t doing accidentally,
that he was already semi hard and it caught him by surprise. Nothing of consequence had happened
that should have warranted his body to react in such a way, especially not after he had such a
difficult time getting hard the night before for the woman he kicked out of his bed, but he was
beginning to wonder if he would always feel slightly off kilter with you around. It was as if anytime
he was sure of something to do with you the world shifted and suddenly he was left to try to catch
his feet, never quite on solid ground.

You pulled his pants to his ankles and slipped your fingers, slightly cool against his hips he noted,
under the band of his boxers to meet them on the floor. His dick sprang out from its confines into the
warm air of the office. He watched as your eyes took him in and he was sure he heard a slight gasp
from you but didn’t address it. You lifted your head and met his gaze and he was delighted to see
your pink lips parted just enough for him to see your tongue hidden behind them. He couldn’t get the
image of what they would look like stretched around his member out of his head and was
surprisingly giddy to know that he would soon not have to imagine it. “Suck me off,” he said but just
as you dipped your head to obey he hooked a long, slender finger under your chin to lock you in
place. He smirked and with his free hand placed the foil packaged condom on your forehead, pressed
it into your skin with a spare finger and enjoyed the image for a moment before he spoke again in a
gruff voice, “you’ll be needing that.”

One of your hands left the, somehow still, demure position they had landed in on your lap to pluck
the package off of your forehead and ruin the image for him. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip
in return and enjoyed the way your lipstick spread and smeared across your skin easily, as if you had
just applied it before storming into his office. You were already ruined before he had even properly
touched you and the idea thrilled Yoongi.

You turned your eyes away from him to stare at his now nearly rigid cock and he didn’t want to
question how, without you touching him, he had gotten to that state. Nothing good could come of
that answer. You wrapped your hand, still slightly cool to the touch, around his base to direct him
towards your mouth and your tongue darted out from behind your lips to kitten lick the head of his
cock in a teasing gesture that he really should have expected. He felt his breath warble in his chest
but managed to control it before it was noticeable enough to stop you from lifting his member and
placing your hot tongue right at the base of him, so close to his balls that he suddenly longed for you
to pay attention to them, and ran a slow thick stripe up his skin and back to the tip. You let your
tongue roll, out in the open air of the office, around the head before you finally slipped your lips over
him.

He gripped his fingers into the wood of his desk as you slowly, tauntingly, teasingly lowered
yourself over him. He watched as your lips stretched across him just as he had imagined earlier and
without warning you lifted your eyes to him, his gaze switched from your mouth to your orbs
without hesitation. He suspected that other men, lower and weaker than himself, would have seen the
move as intimate but he only saw submission. You had agreed to service him, just as you were,
whenever the mood struck him and not the other way around. In a very real capacity you were his
possession, something that would offer him release with little to no effort on his part and, he hoped,
with little risk. Staring into your eyes as you hollowed your cheeks against him, your tongue pressed
against the underside of his cock, felt, to him, like a surrender to him and his will.

Knowing that you had given yourself to him so willingly, without even a hint of a fight, tempted him
to grab hold of your head by the hair and dig his nails into your scalp while he thrust into your mouth
but he restrained himself. You had agreed almost immediately which meant that you wanted him. It
was entirely likely, and Yoongi suspected was even completely accurate, that you wanted him more
than he did you. That thought alone fueled him to let you prove it, to work for his pleasure on your
own without his help.

You moaned along his cock as you moved and the vibration pulled at his lips until he tugged the
lower between his teeth. He rolled the flesh in his mouth but didn’t pull his stare away from you and
the way your wide eyes locked with his. Your spare hand, the one not wrapped around his member,
trailed slowly up his leg and massaged his thigh before it found his balls. You rolled them slowly in
your palm and as you lowered yourself fully on his cock he could feel the way your throat tightened
around his tip. You gently pulled his balls up to your chin where messy strings of your drool ran
from your mouth and pooled on them. Yoongi hissed and was fully aware that the sound was indeed
audible enough for you to hear but he figured giving you a little praise wouldn’t hurt anyone. “I
didn’t know you were so good at sucking cock, dollface,” he mused and leaned further into his desk
to relax with the sensation of your mouth pulling away from his base and back to the tip. “Although I
probably should have guessed based on the way you have been dressing.”

You pulled off of him with that but continued to massage his balls in one palm and allowed the other
hand to run over his slick cock. “I figured if you were going to stare so often then I should at least
give you a better view,” you said with a teasing smile.

Yoongi stumbled only for the briefest of moments with the way the fluorescent lights of his office
somehow appeared soft and inviting in the reflection of your eyes before he realized that once again
it was as if the world had shifted below his feet and he was left to grasp at any solid surface he could.
“All of these skimpy outfits have been for me,” he asked with a quirked eyebrow though he knew
the answer.

“Have you seen me do this for anyone else in the office?”

No, of course he hadn’t. It was a dangerous thought, one that he pushed away as quickly and
violently as it had appeared, but all he could hear in his head, with every stumbling beat of his heart,
was mine mine mine. “Put the condom on me,” he ordered as he was overcome with the need to
bury himself in what he owned.

You licked your lips, the pink lipstick that had adorned your lips only clung to the rims where it had
smeared messily around the lower half of your face, and reached for the foil package on the floor.
You tore it open with hands that were slightly shaky, something that Yoongi had certainly noticed,
and pulled the contents from the package before discarding it on the floor. You rolled it over his slick
cock without hesitation, maybe even with desperation, before you looked back at him once it was in
place. “Come here,” he purred and motioned with one finger for you. You stood in front of him with
your hands at your side and he finally pushed himself away from the desk. “I wonder,” he said in a
low voice and pulled you into him by your hips, “just how wet my little whore got for me while you
sucked my cock. Tell me how much you liked sucking me off in my office, dollface.”

Your cheeks blazed under his gaze but you admirably forced yourself to answer him with a voice
that was only slightly shy. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time. I think I ruined my
underwear actually.”

At that, Yoongi’s chest swelled. He knew you had been desperate for him, it was the only way to
explain how willingly you gave yourself over to him, but to hear the words meet air, to linger in the
small space between the two of you made him forget about his blunder from the night before. He felt
powerful with you weak in front of him and as the youngest child in the family, the one most often
prone to mistakes and foolhardy actions, he enjoyed the moment all the more. “Is that so,” he asked
and let his hands trail from your hips around to your ass. He dug his fingers into the round curve of
your flesh and listened to you whimper in his ear as he leaned into you. His cock, still rigid and
longing to feel your warmth, rubbed against your thigh as he placed his mouth by your ear. He let his
fingers find purchase in your ass again and you rolled your hips into his own as he breathed into your
ear, “I think I should see for myself.”

You nodded your head adorably, as if you were giving him permission he didn’t need, and he
reached for the edge of your skirt just to pull it up to your hips and expose your underwear for him
and only him. You wore a garter belt most days, he already knew that from all the taunting glimpses
you had gifted him over your time at the office, but to see it in person, on display for him in the
hidden sanctuary of his office, was an all new and exciting treat. The fabric was black and sinful
against your skin and, as much as he wanted to rip it off entirely and bury himself in the warmth of
your arousal that he could absolutely smell radiating off of you, he merely cupped your heat and
snickered, “you weren’t lying.”

The fabric was warm, damp, and clung to the folds of your body. It allowed Yoongi to run his
fingers across your covered heat and still feel like he was exploring you without the restriction. He
moved to pull away from you but he caught site of your flushed cheeks, your eyes blown wide and
hazed with lust, and your lower lip pulled between your teeth. You looked so damn needy that he
was drawn back in without thinking about it. He pulled the fabric of your panties away from your
skin and down your legs where they gathered awkwardly around your heels. Finally there was
nothing blocking him from properly feeling your heat and as his long fingers ran over your slit you
whimpered in his ear.

“Something wrong, dollface?” He let his finger dip between your folds and find your entrance. He
gathered your juices and let his finger trail lazily over your slit again to spread the mess. Your
forehead rested against his shoulder and you merely shook your head as an answer to his question
but that wouldn’t do. “Come on, why don’t you use some of that sass from earlier? Tell me what you
want me to do to you.”

You whimpered again and the sound was muffled by his chest but all Yoongi could do was smile
smugly. “I want you to touch me,” you finally whispered.

His free hand skimmed over the curve of your ass before his fingers sunk into the flesh. “But I’m
already touching you. Try to be more specific.” He let his finger rest at your entrance, his palm
hovered just over your clit as he waited for you to acquiesce.

“I want you to finger me,” you finally said and without wait or warning one of his fingers dove into
your body, his hot palm pushed and rubbed against your clit, and your own hands found purchase in
the fabric of his shirt.

“See? All you had to do was use your words. What kind of whore can’t tell a man when she wants
him to finger her dirty cunt?” His words were rough and his voice was gruff but his finger moved at
a much gentler pace in and out of you. “You should apologize for making me wait,” he said into
your ear and heard you moan lightly into his chest.

He didn’t have to prod you harder than that to get you to mewl a whiny, “I’m sorry sir”. He was
quick to reward you by pushing a second finger inside and allowing his palm to press against your
clit with each thrust of his fingers.

His cock still stood proud and rubbed against your bare thigh, desperate to finally find his relief, but
Yoongi was surprised to see how much he liked seeing you fall apart in front of him. He had hardly
touched you and yet you clung to him like he was the only stable thing in the room. “How long have
you wanted this?” His breath was hot in your ear and he dropped his voice to a whisper. “How long
have you been out there at your desk just thinking about me bending you over mine and plowing
away at you?”

“Sir,” you whined in a long drawn out syllable.

“Tell me, did you take that free desk outside of my office just so you could taunt me more? Did you
think I would break and come to you first?” He didn’t wait for an answer and chuckled lowly in your
ear. “I’m not that weak.”

“Please, sir,” you begged and followed it with a deep moan.

“How many times do I have to tell you to use your words,” Yoongi asked with a smirk. “Please
what? What do you want?”

“Please let me cum.”

“Already?” He snickered and thrust into you faster and with more focus on the way his palm moved
against your clit. “You’re already going to cum? How bad did you want this to be cumming so
quickly, slut?”

“Shut up,” you muttered and he could feel your breath hit his neck in hot waves.

He sneered, “well if you are going to be rude about it,” and pulled his hands away from you.

“What the hell,” you whined as you pulled your head away from his chest with wide eyes and mouth
agape.

He could smell your perfume and, without consciously deciding to, lifted his fingers to his mouth.
His tongue snuck out from his lips to slowly lick at them, just to taste you and see if your alluring
perfume was an indicator of how sweet you were. With a lopsided smile he glanced at your lips
before bringing his fingers to them and ordered, “clean up your mess.”

Once his eyes returned to yours you parted your lips and allowed him to push his fingers inside.
Your tongue ran over and lightly sucked on his digits for only a few moments before Yoongi
couldn’t wait any longer. He pulled his fingers from your mouth and grabbed your wrist. Without
explanation he led you behind his desk and sat down on his chair while you stood in front of him. He
lazily stroked his dick as best he could while it was confined in the damn condom and watched as
you removed your skirt only to drop it somewhere on the floor. You climbed into the chair with him
and straddled his lap with a sultry gaze of hazed eyes.

His hands gripped your hips, he cocked his head to the side, and while he forced you to lower
yourself onto him he questioned, “why are you taking so long if you’ve been waiting all this time for
me?” He could feel your warmth encapsulate him slowly as he pushed on your hips and he hissed at
the sensation, even if the condom did restrict how much he could enjoy it. “You were about to cum
from my fingers so why would you wait any longer,” he grunted out as you bottomed out on his
cock.
Your head fell back and exposed your throat to him and as much as he wanted to wrap his hands
around it or to attack it with his lips and teeth until you were clearly marked as his property he only
allowed himself to dig his fingers into the flesh of your hips. A low moan escaped your lips and
when you lolled your head back to face him he noticed that your bottom lip was again pulled
between your teeth. It looked so soft and luscious that he couldn’t control himself anymore. He
guided your hips to lift off of him and after that you began moving on your own, his hands on your
hips merely acted as a way to keep him from being too rough with you with his first chance.

You rocked your hips against him every time you reached his base. Mewl after moan flowed out of
your mouth and Yoongi was determined to be as quiet as possible in order to hear every sound he
could make you emit. “God dammit,” you muttered and clung to his shoulders as your speed
increased, “you feel so good.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but to chuckle. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes,” you moaned and met his eyes, “if you were terrible it would make it a lot easier to leave when
this is all over.” Yoongi was surprised at how astute you were with that one statement but before he
could utter a compliment you started speaking again. “You feel so much better than I thought you
would. Fucking hell.”

“Ah, that’s right. You’ve been thinking of this for a long time now.” His hands slipped around your
hips and found purchase in your ass as you raised and lowered yourself on top of him. “You’ve been
dressing like a whore every day just for me, waiting for me to fuck you in here before I send you
back out there with everyone else, right? Show me how much you’ve been wanting me.”

You leaned forward then and pressed your lips against his neck as a particularly deep moan escaped
you. Yoongi smiled, teeth and all, and was glad you couldn’t see his reaction as you kissed your way
down the side of his neck. You pulled the collar of his shirt to the side and licked at his exposed
collarbone before trailing your tongue back up his neck. “I think you already know,” you mewled
into his ear and rolled your hips while he was buried in you.

He bit his lip in order to hold back a moan and let one hand roam up your back. The fabric of your
blouse was slightly damp with your exertion and clung to your skin. He let his fingers toy with the
end of your hair but stopped himself from going further. He wanted nothing more than to lodge his
hand in the strands, to pull at your scalp and force you to move at the speed he wanted, but he knew
that you would need to be somewhat presentable when you entered the work floor again. As much
as it irked him he was well aware that the agreement didn’t just depend on his satisfaction but also on
your own comfort and pleasure. It was a mutual agreement that needed to benefit both parties. Not all
that different than a practical business decision for him, really.

He slipped one hand in between the two of you and used his thumb to roll against your clit in time
with your hips. Your moans took on a sharper edge, grew louder, and your fingers dug into his
shoulders. He thrust into you as best as he could to meet you at the edge and watched as you fell
apart on top of him. Your head fell forward and you worked your lip between your teeth in a
desperate attempt to keep as quiet as possible, the pair of you fully aware of the employees right
outside his office door. “Fuck,” he grunted as he felt your walls tighten around him, your hips
resorting to rocking against him as you rode out your high, “cum for me, dollface. Cum all over my
cock before I send you back to work. Be a good little whore for me.”

You let out a deep moan and tried to continue rocking against him to help him reach his edge but it
wasn’t enough for him. He swiveled the chair to face his desk and leaned you backwards onto it, his
hands gripped your ass to help hold you in place as he stood up without exiting you. He made sure
you were fully on the desk then moved his hands around to the flesh of your hips and thrust into you
as roughly as he liked. He could feel how close he was, could feel the tightly wound pressure in his
loins starting to unravel as you bounced along his desk with each thrust. “Please cum, Mr. Min,” you
mewled and your hands slipped over his own on your hips before you gripped each wrist. “I want to
taste you.”

“Holy fuck,” he grunted and let his head fall forward to hide his furrowed brows and the way he bit
his lip. He could still remember the way your lips looked as they stretched around his cock earlier
and how could he deny such a request? He pumped into you harder, tossing away any concerns for it
being the first time you were together, as he neared his high. “Get on your knees,” he panted and
then immediately pulled out of you and took a step back. You pushed yourself off of his desk and
fell to your knees in front of him without hesitation. Your eyes were glued to his face as he removed
the condom and as soon as he was exposed you wrapped your hand around his cock and pumped
him while your mouth surrounded his tip. Your tongue swirled around his head repeatedly and he
forced his hands to stay clenched at his side while he felt the waves crash over him. You didn’t pull
back as he released in your mouth. He was perilously close to grabbing your hair and forcing you to
his base as his cum filled your throat but he, somehow, kept his restraint and let you take his release
at your own pace.

You continued to pump your hand up and down his length to milk him of all you could and the
grunts Yoongi had been trying to hold back during his climax finally fell from his mouth. When he
looked back at you he was surprised to see your eyes were trained on him, no doubt watching his
reaction. When you pulled away from him you slowly rolled your tongue around your swollen lips to
clean any residue that remained then gave him a smirk. “Get up here,” he said in a soft voice, one
that caught him off guard. You did as he asked and pushed yourself off of the floor to stand in front
of him, your lips plush and red beckoned to him. “Kiss me,” he whispered.

There was something in Yoongi’s stomach then that hadn’t disappeared in the months that followed.
It only grew stronger, more insistent, uncontrollable, and fervent during each time you were around
him. Yoongi hated it. It was like some kind of warmth that took root in his stomach before it
bloomed in his chest and every time he watched you smile at Jeon the pleasant feeling turned caustic
and acidic. He reasoned that he should probably call a doctor, check for tumors or see if he was
having a bout of particularly strong heartburn, but his first order of business was to leave the
building.

The end of the work day was something he had grown to detest in the few days since the party. His
options were to either walk directly past your desk and act as if nothing at all had changed, you were
merely an employee who existed solely to make his family money, or to watch Jeon appear at your
desk every evening and the two of you leave the building together to do who knows what. Neither
option was great and he almost resented you for putting him in such a predicament. If only you
hadn’t grown so chummy with Jeon then everything would be fine. The agreement would still be in
place because he was sure, though you hadn’t said a word to him, it was most certainly over and he
could force you to stay late so he could fuck you on every desk in the office (particularly Jeon’s, for
no reason he was willing to admit).

He gathered his belongings and prepared himself for the awkward walk to the elevator but just as he
had opened the door he heard Jeon’s voice. “Are you almost finished?”

“Yeah, I was just about to leave,” you said in a chipper voice and Yoongi ignored the way his chest
twisted at the sound.

“Not without me, I hope.”

“Of course not,” you said and Yoongi could hear the stupid smile on your face. He couldn’t see
either of you from his position frozen in the shadow of the partially open door but he could imagine
the blinding smile he had seen you flash at Jeon before and it wasn’t hard to fathom that your lips
were stretched in it as you spoke.

“So we are still on for Friday, right?” Jeon asked.

You paused and Yoongi assumed you nodded because your voice didn’t hint at any hesitation.
Instead it was drenched in flirtatious tones that caused Yoongi to grip the door handle tightly. “I’m
looking forward to it. Have you decided where you want to go?”

“There’s a restaurant I heard about from Yoojung. She says it is pretty casual but romantic,” he said
in a low voice and Yoongi rolled his tongue into his cheek as he stared at a paperclip on the floor,
discarded and forgotten. It was stupid that he was still standing there listening to the two of you
planning your date. He had places to be, things to do, he was a busy man. If his employees wanted to
date then it was no concern of his.
 Just as he was about to step out of the shadows he heard you speak in a soft voice, one that he could
imagine was accompanied by flushed cheeks. “Romantic sounds nice. I haven’t been to someplace
like that in a while.”

“Yeah, I imagine,” Jeon said with a scoff and Yoongi seethed in the shadows. He was certain the
remark had been about him and the idea of someone like Jeon looking down at him gnawed at his
pride. An awkward pause fell between the two of you and Yoongi was tempted to peek out of the
shadows and see what kind of expression you were making but Jeon started speaking again. “The
place is called Cupid’s Lullaby.” Yoongi almost wasn’t able to contain a groan but managed to hold
it together. “It’s a little cheesy sounding, I know, but Yoojung swears it is a nice place. I can come to
your place and pick you up around seven? If that works for you.”

Yoongi tried to ignore the way a bitter taste swirled in his mouth and pushed his imagination away
from thinking about how Jeon already knew where you lived. Yoongi had been sleeping with you
for months and hadn’t the faintest idea where you called home. Not that it mattered, of course.

“Yeah that sounds great to me. We have to hurry. If we miss the next train it’s going to take forever
for me to get home,” you said but the sound of it came from a distance.

You left with Jeon. Again. Yoongi could imagine the two of you taking the subway together, Jeon
hovering behind you to try to keep the mass of commuters from jostling into you with every bump of
the train, him walking you home (wherever the fuck that may be) with his arm around your waist and
some line about body heat keeping you warm. He stood in the shadow of his doorway for far longer
than was necessary, you and Jeon had long since left the building, but he stared at the same spot on
the floor, as if he was transfixed by a paperclip that had been left behind by someone.

He was fine.

Everything was fine.

Chapter End Notes

Originally posted on Tumblr by ellieljade as Chapter 04

 Chapter 05
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Yoongi was an idiot. There was no other way to explain why he would be sitting at a bar, in a
particular restaurant, on a certain night, with a view of the front door if not for him being an idiot. He
didn’t belong there and he was certain of that when he took his first sip of the “top shelf scotch” the
barkeep had only to taste that it had been watered down. It was laughable, really. Surely he would
laugh this off as a drunken foolish mistake come the morning except he had shown up entirely sober.
That was before he had berated the bartender and demanded to be given what he was paying for. As
the time ticked by, his eyes darting between his watch and the door, he would have lost his nerve
completely if not for the liquid courage he continued to sip. He didn’t even know what he was doing
there, what he had planned on saying, why he had even decided to drive clear to the other side of the
city to a restaurant he had never even heard of just to see you. If there was one thing he was certain
of it was that he absolutely wasn’t there just because you were on a date with Jeon. That was
definitely not the reason. Couldn’t be.

The restaurant was gaudy with its crimson walls that only served to remind Yoongi of blood. He
couldn’t fathom why people would pay money to eat in an establishment with walls the color of
death and cliche candles burning on every table. Maybe he just didn’t have the romantic spirit
necessary to enjoy a restaurant named Cupid’s Lullaby but he couldn’t help but wonder if the
candles and dim lighting were an attempt to distract from the garish statues of cherubs and cheap
reproduction knock-offs of sappy still lifes of roses and couples kissing. Yoongi noticed, with a smug
sense of superiority, that peppered between the sentimental but safe still lifes were paintings by Goya
with their gore and horror on full display. It was as if someone in the business had googled romantic
painters and selected the first one that showed up without a care as to what the paintings were about.
He did take note that the more offensive paintings were pushed into the darkest recesses of the
restaurant, surely some manager who barely made enough money to stay afloat over his rent and bills
had desperately tried to hide them as best he could. With another sip of his scotch he leaned against
the bar top with a smug smile as he took in the restaurant again. He was sure of two things. First, the
establishment was doing a wonder on his ego if he could pinpoint so many awful traits about it right
away. Second, he would absolutely have taken you somewhere better than such a cheesy restaurant.
Not that it mattered. It wasn’t as if he had even considered it. What a foolish thought.

He continued monitoring and judging the guests at their tables (all of which only had two seats
which he thought was a bit much) until he heard a bell by the door. He turned to look at the door and
noticed immediately, as you unbuttoned your coat, that you were wearing the same dress you had to
the company’s party earlier that week and you looked just as devastatingly beautiful as you had then.
A bitter taste pooled in his mouth as he remembered the way his eyes had been immediately drawn to
you that night too, not that it mattered.

You were by yourself and as your eyes danced around the room you failed to notice Yoongi in one
of the dark recesses provided by the stupid lighting in the cheap restaurant. You had no idea that his
own eyes were locked on you, as they often seemed to be as of late, and that his gaze skimmed
quickly and expertly over your curves, the very ones he had often left his mark on or dug his fingers
into, before he settled back on your face. He noted that you weren’t smiling and a part of him was
pleased at the thought that the date wasn’t going well but it was soon replaced with a heated twist in
his stomach when the annoying bell above the door rang again and Jeon appeared by your side. He
said something to you that Yoongi couldn’t hear over the slow jazz music that played through the
restaurant and then, there it was, that bright and brilliant smile stretched across your face so quickly
that Yoongi couldn’t help but wonder if you didn’t permanently wear it anytime Jeon was around.

His gut twisted and rolled as he watched Jeon rub his hands together as if he was trying to warm
them. He leaned in closer to you and said something that made you laugh, a faint giggle that Yoongi
could only barely make out over the lull of the music, before his hands came to your shoulders and
pulled your coat away. That acrid taste returned to his mouth while he watched Jeon take in your
now fully exposed attire, something Yoongi himself had done but he clearly had more rights to do
so. After all, it wasn’t like Jeon had seen you naked countless times like he had. Jeon leaned into you
so closely that your face was eclipsed in his shadow and when he pulled away Yoongi could see the
brilliant flush of your cheeks even in the faint lighting. Yoongi tongued his cheek and took another
sip of his scotch but his eyes didn’t leave you. He could see Jeon hand over your coats to the hostess
out of the corner of his eyes but he was too busy noting that your smile never faded, as if something
about Jeon’s presence was worthy of that kind of brilliant beam. Yoongi was positive there was
nothing about Jeon that made him worthy of your time let alone such a wide grin.

“Would you like another, sir?” The gruff voice of the bartender asked and distracted him only
momentarily. Quite honestly he had forgotten there were other people besides the three of you in the
room.

He handed his tumbler to the man without sparing him a glance and nodded slowly. “Yes and keep
them coming. I’ll tell you when I’m done.” Yoongi heard the man mumble something under his
breath as he filled his drink but at that very moment Jeon put his hand on the exposed skin of your
lower back and ushered you to follow the hostess towards a table. The sensation in his stomach
turned vaguely painful and he shifted in his seat as he pulled at the collar of his shirt to try to cool his
own skin. He heard the clink of his glass being placed on top of the wooden bar top and immediately
grabbed it to swallow down the damn bitter taste in his mouth. He made a note that he ought to call a
doctor to get the taste checked out because over the course of the past week it had truly become
unbearable with how often it appeared.

The hostess seated you and Jeon across the restaurant from Yoongi. Jeon sat with his back towards
the bar and as your eyes flitted across the room and towards Yoongi’s position he wondered if you
would spot him but your gaze merely danced over him as if he was no one important, some lonely
and pathetic stranger in a peacoat drinking by himself at a restaurant meant for couples. Yoongi
winced at the thought that you would possibly think so lowly of him or not recognize him when he
was merely across the room but quickly ignored it. It was fine. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice you
either, Yoongi thought as he took another too large gulp of his scotch to forget about how his eyes
had immediately been drawn to you anytime you walked into the same room as him for weeks now.

The bartender kept to Yoongi’s order and returned each time he had drained the glass. He drank
quickly and heavily, something he hadn’t done since the night before he started the agreement with
you, and the effect was strong. By the time you and Jeon had ordered dessert Yoongi was already
not thinking clearly. The alcohol had to be to blame because he was sure there was no other reason
why he had marched his way over to your table. His eyes had been glued to the way that Jeon had
reached across the table to enclose your hand with his and the stupid flush across your cheeks only
became more apparent the closer he got to the table. It wasn’t until he was standing right next to you,
leaned over the table with his hands splayed across the gaudy lace cloth on either side of yours which
was still enclosed in Jeon’s, that you even noticed him. He saw how you pulled away from Jeon
immediately and fell back into your seat with a gasp but his attention was fully on Jeon.

“Fancy running into the two of you here,” Yoongi growled. He wasn’t sure why he felt so much
heat rolling off of him but he was sure the alcohol was entirely to blame.

“What are you doing here,” you asked him but he didn’t pull his eyes away from Jeon.
“You don’t mind if I join you, do you?” Though his eyes remained on Jeon he pulled a chair from
the table next to him and slid it close to you before he plopped down.

Jeon’s stare was icy with a sharp edge that didn’t go unnoticed by Yoongi. “Of course, sir,” he said
in a low voice. “It’s always a pleasure to have you around.”

The vague hint of sarcasm in his voice also didn’t go unnoticed by Yoongi. It felt like Yoongi was
on fire and his gut twisted and stabbed at him so much that it took all of his remaining cool to stay
seated and turn his attention to you. “Having fun on your date,” he asked and quirked an eyebrow
up. His lips were in a tight line and he tried to focus on keeping them from frowning entirely instead
of the way your body was pressed against his. He hadn’t intended to put his seat that close to you but
he wasn’t about to complain.

“What are you doing here,” you asked. You crossed your arms in front of your chest and sent a
pointed glare his way but he was just drunk enough to find the way your eyes narrowed and your
jaw set adorable instead of irritating.

“I asked you a question first, babygirl.”

He didn’t even register what had come out of his mouth until he saw your eyes widen and your
mouth part in shock. His mind was absolutely blank and he felt a cold chill run through him and,
though it was a pleasant reprieve from the heat that had settled over him, he was, for once, grateful
that Jeon decided to speak.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat before he crossed his own arms in front of his chest and
cocked his head to the side. “Our date has been fantastic. Thank you for taking the time out of your
schedule, which I’m sure is busy, to care about the date of two lowly employees.” Yoongi turned his
head back to meet Jeon’s stare and his jaw clenched when he saw the pleased smirk on his face, the
way he confidently leaned back in his chair as if he was in some way superior. “The rumors must
have you all wrong. I mean,” he said with a sarcastic scoff, “what kind of boss would show up on
his employee’s date just to make sure they were having a good time?”

“Well what can I say? I’m just a good guy, I guess,” Yoongi replied curtly. He really ought to look
for a valid reason to fire the kid and get him out of his hair.

“I’m sorry,” you spoke up and leaned forward but your gaze was solely focused on Jeon. “Can we
cancel our dessert order and leave?”

Leave? And go where? And do what? Yoongi’s mind shuffled through the possibilities quickly but
none of them left him with any kind of satisfaction. “Please,” he rasped out and grabbed your wrist to
stop you from standing but when you turned to look at him your stare was incredulous. “Please don’t
leave on my account. I am leaving in a few minutes anyways.”

“You are,” Jeon asked but Yoongi didn’t turn to see his expression, certain that if he took his eyes
off of you that you would disappear.

“Yes. I-I-I,” Yoongi stuttered out and cursed himself for having drank so much that coming up with
a simple lie was proving difficult. “I have a date myself.”

Jeon let out a scoff but it was the way you snatched your wrist out of his hand as if he had burned
you that caught his attention. His chest ached but he was only vaguely aware of it. “Then why don’t
you go and meet her then? Is it Matilda? She doesn’t seem to be the kind to like being kept waiting.”

Your tone was harsh, cold, and did nothing to hide your jealousy. Under normal circumstances he
would have pulled you into the bathroom of the cruddy restaurant or into an alley and fucked you
until you admitted it but it was the first time he had spoken to you since the company’s party and he
knew he was on thin ice, if there was any left at all. His voice came out much weaker than he
intended and he visibly cringed at the sound. “No. It’s not with Matilda.”

Jeon had started to look for a waiter to cancel your dessert and Yoongi was suddenly very aware of
his intrusion into the night and how he hadn’t done himself any favors. He noticed how you leaned
away from him, desperate for any kind of space between the two of you, and felt his chest tighten
and constrict without explanation. Heavy words sat on the tip of his tongue but he didn’t know how
to say them, how to give them air properly. “Can I talk to you?” He managed to sputter it out but the
words were jumbled, rushed, and whispered so that Jeon wouldn’t hear while he tried to flag down a
waiter.

“Whatever you want to say to me you can say right here in front of Jungkook,” you answered at a
normal volume. Jeon immediately spun around in his chair to face the two of you again and one of
his eyebrows shot up in curiosity.

Yoongi felt small. He didn’t know how to properly express himself and certainly didn’t want to do it
in front of Jeon but you offered him no help. Suddenly the cliche jazz music the restaurant had
chosen didn’t seem nearly loud enough and the lighting was far too bright. It was all wrong but the
words were right on the tip of his tongue, weighing it down almost as heavily as his guilt rested on
him. “I’m sor-.”

“Oh there’s our waiter,” Jeon suddenly shouted much too loudly for the atmosphere and your
attention turned away from Yoongi and towards him. Yoongi was left to watch your profile break
out into a grin at the news, completely forgetting that he had been trying to speak to you. He felt tiny
at the table, a nuisance, a blight on an otherwise perfect night and you seemed completely content
with not hearing what he had to say.

His mind ran hazy as Jeon cancelled the dessert you two had ordered and handed over his credit card
to the waiter, clearly in a rush to leave the building. The words were right there. He had almost
uttered them and he was stuck somewhere between disbelief, relief, anger, and shame. He didn’t feel
like himself. He wasn’t like this. He wasn’t weak. It was the alcohol, he decided. It had to be. The
only other option was that you had the ability to make him so weak and he refused to believe that
was possible. After all, you were nothing.

“I hope you enjoy your date,” Jeon said and Yoongi noticed that you were both suddenly standing. It
was as if Yoongi was losing time. Jeon’s arm was wrapped around your waist and a smirk on his
face. “Now if you’ll excuse us we are going to go enjoy the rest of ours,” he said in a low voice that
sent Yoongi’s gut twisting and rolling again. Just as you passed by Yoongi and out of his peripheral
vision Jeon stabbed Yoongi one last time. He winked. It was so smug and well timed that at first
Yoongi was positive that Jeon wasn’t capable of such a move, it had to have been a mistake. He
wondered if his stupid bangs had fallen into his eyes and caused him to blink at an inopportune time
but then he noticed the way Jeon’s lopsided smile stretched up further across his face, his teeth barely
visible in the gap of his lips. It took all of Yoongi’s remaining willpower to not yell at the smug
bastard right then.

Yoongi watched your retreating figure and tried to calm his breathing while Jeon helped you into
your coat but as soon as you two had exited the building he slammed his fist against the table. What
had been left of your red wine sloshed out of the glass and stained the dainty lace fabric but Yoongi
ignored it and the way all the eyes in the restaurant had turned to him. He stormed back to the bar to
grab his own coat and threw himself into the cold and unforgiving winter’s night.
Who the hell did Jeon think he was? He thought he was something special because he got to take
you on a date? So fucking what. Yoongi had fucked you countless times. “Come talk to me when
you have her begging for you like she did for me,” Yoongi muttered to no one but the harsh wind
and tried to forget that it was all in the past. For all he knew you would be begging for him by the
end of the night. For all he knew you already had.

He knew when he called Hoseok and asked him to meet at a bar close to the office, far away from
the cursed restaurant where he had embarrassed himself, that he would suspect something was
wrong. Hoseok wasn’t naive, far from it really. Yoongi rarely was the one to set up their meetings.
Ever since they were children it had been Hoseok who clung to Yoongi and it wasn’t until Hoseok
had abandoned him for a year in college that Yoongi realized how much he truly missed their
relationship.

Hoseok’s mother, the Min family maid, had worked for his parents for longer than either boy had
been alive. When she gave birth to a boy only a year after Yoongi was born she had managed to
convince the Min’s to let her pay the nanny to watch her son too, after all it was the only way she
would have someone to watch after the boy while she worked. Hoseok’s father had died before he
was born and as he was an only child he had developed an bond more similar to brothers rather than
friends with Yoongi. Neither of the two could remember a time without the other, all of their
childhood memories were spent together. For Hoseok, an only child with a single parent who was
forced to work tremendous hours to afford the life she wanted for her son, his relationship with
Yoongi provided a brother he would otherwise never have. For Yoongi, the product of a truly
dysfunctional and neglectful family with which the bond was tenuous, the relationship provided him
with a close friendship where he didn’t have to hide what his life was like. The staff that his parents
had hired were the only people Yoongi didn’t have to put on a charade for. Hoseok and his mother
saw every last awful bit of the Min family.

Hoseok had provided some normalcy in Yoongi’s life. As children Hoseok was the one who taught
Yoongi how to play basketball, to ride a bike, and to throw a ball. In return Yoongi had secretly
passed off clothing, food, and other goods to Hoseok under the guise of “not liking them”. He had
spent enough time with Hoseok to see the threads of his pants worn bare at the knee long before he
had stopped wearing them. He remembered a particular orange shirt that Hoseok had continued to
wear long after it was clearly too small. Even decades later Yoongi couldn’t forget the way Hoseok
had pulled and tugged at the bottom of the shirt after every time he stretched or moved to ensure that
his stomach was still covered, the fabric barely skimmed the top of his pants when he stood up
straight. Yoongi had caught Hoseok’s mother stealing toilet paper from the family once and when
she noticed the boy, all of eight at the time, she apologized profusely but as soon as she was out of
sight he had collected his allowance and placed it in her coat pocket inconspicuously.

Hoseok’s mother had often taken the place of his care giver. His nanny was a strict elderly woman
who appeared to hate children despite the nature of her job. She detested Hoseok in particular due to
his bountiful energy and relentless cheerful disposition. Hoseok’s mother was the one who baked
Yoongi his favorite cookies every year for his birthday. Though she never addressed the tradition
directly she still sent Hoseok every year to deliver a box of cookies and occasionally even some
cupcakes. As teenagers Hoseok had followed Yoongi into his rebellious streak but, unlike the older
boy, his mother had noticed almost immediately and cornered the two teens one night when they
snuck into her house in a drunken state. She yelled at them both equally and reprimanded Yoongi in
a way he had never been disciplined before. While she could be harsh if it was necessary she was
usually more caring and kind than his own parents. In college Yoongi had caught the flu and that
night Hoseok’s mother showed up at Yoongi and Hoseok’s apartment loaded with medicine, soup,
rice, and a home remedy. She had stayed the night to nurse Yoongi back to health and left early in
the morning to return to his family’s house to get back to work.
It was no surprise that when Hoseok had arrived at the bar and joined Yoongi at a table the first thing
out of his mouth was, “mom is worried about you. You haven’t called her in awhile.”

“I’ve been distracted,” Yoongi muttered and ran his hands over his face to wake himself up. The
scotch and anger had left his body feeling drained and the soju he had chosen to follow it up with at
the bar was slow to waken him up again. “I’ll call her in the morning. How is she?”

“The same,” Hoseok said with a sigh and took a sip of his beer. “Her arthritis is worse with the
weather but she never slows down. You know her.”

“Always stubborn,” Yoongi said with a nod and weak smile.

“Imagine what her reaction would be if I told her that you called me to meet up,” Hoseok laughed
and shook his head in disbelief. “She’s already so concerned about you. If I tell her that then she will
know something is wrong. When was the last time that happened? When your dad died?”

Yoongi took another sip of his soju and furrowed his eyebrows while he tried to remember the last
time he had been so desperate for someone to understand him and to listen without judgement. “I
think so,” Yoongi nodded.

“She’s already worried about you so if you want me to keep this quiet then you better just come out
and tell me what’s wrong this time. Hell, last time you called me out was when someone died.”

“Yeah, well, are you going to complain? We had a lot of fun that night,” Yoongi said with a laugh.

“Well it’s not like anything of value was lost,” Hoseok said with a flat voice and paused. Both men
shared a glance then broke out into boisterous laughter simultaneously. Yoongi raised his glass in
between fits of laughter and Hoseok met it with his own beer bottle before they each took another
swig of their alcohol. The laughter died down slowly as the two watched the other customers in the
bar, putting off the inevitable conversation as long as they could.

There were very few people in Yoongi’s life that he felt a sense of loyalty to and most of the people
on the list were strictly professional. More than a few times Yoongi had found himself wondering if
perhaps Hoseok and his kind mother were the only people in the world that he truly cared for. He
didn’t have much in the way of confidants, friends, or even family -- save for the terrible excuse for
one that he had been born into. In his drunken hazed walk to the bar he realized as he fumbled
through his contact list that the only names he contacted with any frequency were Hoseok, Hoseok’s
mother, and you -- and he didn’t even have the balls to put your actual name in his phone, you were
merely “Dollface”.

“So how drunk do I need to be for this one,” Hoseok asked and pulled Yoongi out of his thoughts.
He waved his empty beer bottle around and stood up from his seat. “I’m guessing at least two or
three of these before you start? Or do I need to start drinking some liquor?”

“Two ought to do it,” Yoongi mumbled with a weak laugh and watched Hoseok retreat to the bar.
How was he even supposed to start? Where should he even begin? It wasn’t like anything substantial
had happened and yet he felt utterly lost.

Hoseok returned with two more bottles of beer and managed to keep the conversation away from
what was bothering Yoongi until he had nearly finished the first bottle. “Alright,” he said with a sigh
and adjusted himself in his seat to get more comfortable, “let’s hear it. What’s going on with you?”

Yoongi rubbed his hand over his face with an annoyed sigh. “That’s just the thing,” he said with a
resigned laugh, “I don’t even know what is wrong.”
“Well that’s helpful,” Hoseok said with a bright laugh. Leave it to him to always find the humor in a
situation even when Yoongi’s thoughts were all bleak.

“I’m not sleeping much lately,” Yoongi finally answered with a shrug, as if the admission meant
nothing. “I thought it was that I have been drinking too much coffee but I haven’t had any in days
and still can’t sleep.”

Hoseok’s brows furrowed and the edges of his lips cast downwards as he studied his friend again.
“How long has that been going on?”

“Since earlier this week. It started the night of that party the company threw for the anniversary.”

“That’s awfully specific. What happened that night?”

Yoongi’s mind flashed back to your eyes shining in the light with impending tears, smeared mascara
across your cheeks, and the way you looked at him as if he wasn’t even human. He cleared his throat
and shook his head to try to rid himself of the unwanted image that had haunted him since that night.
“Nothing much,” he finally muttered and took another sip of his drink.

“Uh huh,” Hoseok said in a tone that conveyed his disbelief. “You know, if I charged you like a
therapist I wouldn’t even have to work. You’re so repressed that you could be my only client and I
could charge you for every hour you sit in front of me and say ‘I’m fine’ or ‘nothing is wrong’. I’m
in the wrong field clearly.”

“There was a little fight that night,” Yoongi finally admitted with a groan, “but really, honestly, it
hasn’t been bothering me.”

“I’m curious, does it ever work?”

Yoongi brought his eyes away from his drink to look at Hoseok and wrinkled his brows in
confusion. “Does what work?”
“Lying to yourself like that. ‘It hasn’t been bothering me’ you say as you reek of booze and admit
that you can’t sleep. I’ve known you my entire life, Yoongi, and I can’t say that I have ever seen you
admit that you had a problem. So if you are content with living your life feeling whatever the hell it is
that is going on in your mind right now instead of just facing what is troubling you then by all means
continue to ignore your problems,” Hoseok sighed and leaned back in his chair to study the other
patrons of the bar. He waited for Yoongi to say something, anything, to refute his observation. When
the older man remained quiet and merely left his gaze on Hoseok, who stubbornly refused to meet
his stare though he knew his friend well enough to have predicted it, he continued. “So why don’t
you start with who the fight was with?”

“I don’t see why it matters.”

“Well, I’m not a doctor but stress usually factors into not being able to sleep. Maybe you can’t relax
because of this fight.”

“It was with an employee of mine. It really hasn’t been bothering me,” Yoongi said and finished the
rest of his drink. He had lost count of exactly how much he had drank and couldn’t remember the
last time he had let himself get to such a state.

Hoseok let out an annoyed sigh and rolled his eyes before he took another swig of his beer. “Well if
you aren’t going to tell me about it then just go sleep with that girl you’ve been fucking. That should
wear you out enough to go to sleep, right?”

Yoongi bristled and rolled his empty tumbler between his fingers. “I can’t.”
“Why’s that? Did you finally break off your agreement with her?”

“No.”

“Oh so she did? It’s about time. I can’t believe she agreed to be your sex slave in the first place.
What kind of woman doesn’t have a problem with that,” Hoseok said with a laugh.

Yoongi took a sharp breath and tried to ignore the way his chest tightened with the way Hoseok
spoke about you. “That isn’t it either. I can’t fuck her because she was who I fought with that night.”

He leaned forward and rested his arms on the table to get as close as he could to Yoongi, a sinister
smile on his face. “Now it’s getting interesting. So what was it that caused the fight between you and
your fuck doll?”

Yoongi wasn’t sure what happened in that moment but something inside of him burst. He could feel
it, first in his chest as a sudden heat, then in his hands as they tightened around his glass tumbler
before finally finding release through his throat. “Don’t call her that,” Yoongi growled. Hoseok
paused only for a second in surprise before his eyes widened and suddenly his twisted smile had
grown and he exposed every tooth in his mouth. Yoongi wanted to punch him and his stupid smile at
that moment.

“So that’s what this is about!”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Yoongi snapped and looked around towards the
bartender only to see a slew of people surrounding the man. “I need another drink. Why the fuck is
the bar so busy?”

“You like her,” Hoseok said with an awestruck tone.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yoongi said brusquely.

“Holy shit,” Hoseok whispered, completely ignoring his friend.

“Just for that this one is now mine,” Yoongi said with a glare and grabbed the second beer bottle
Hoseok had bought. He pulled the top off and took a sip before giving an exaggerated sigh, “so
refreshing.”

“Min Yoongi is capable of feelings stemming from somewhere other than his dick,” Hoseok
muttered to himself.

“Is he,” a woman’s voice interrupted and before Yoongi even had time to turn towards the sound she
had already slammed her glass down on the table.

Yoongi choked on his beer when he saw Yoojung glaring at him from the end of the table. “Excuse
me,” Hoseok asked with a smile stretched across his face, “and who are you?”

“I’m an employee of this motherfucker,” she replied and jutted a thumb towards Yoongi. A man
bumped into her as he passed and she lurched forward, placing both hands on the table to steady
herself, before she whirled around so fast that her long black hair swung in the air. “Hey! Watch
where you are walking, jackass! Did your mother not teach you any manners?”

Hoseok snickered and pulled out a seat for her next to him at the table. “Sit down, lady.”

“I don’t think you want me to,” Yoojung said with a glare towards Hoseok, “because I fully intend
on chewing your shitty little friend out.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes and gave a tired sigh but mostly ignored her to dash his eyes around the
crowd. If Yoojung was at the bar then there was a chance that you might be too. Hoseok,
meanwhile, let out a loud laugh and with a wide smile patted the seat of the chair. “Now I really
want you to sit. I’d love to hear this!”

Yoojung eyed Hoseok for a moment, her eyes narrowed in judgement but she moved to accept his
seat before a man grabbed her elbow. “Yoojung, what are you doing,” he said in a low voice before
he turned to Mr. Min and bowed his head. “Sir, how’s your evening going?”

Before Yoongi could answer, not that he had any interest in socializing with them at all, Yoojung
had violently pulled her arm from the man’s grasp. “Leave me alone Minsung. I’m just going to talk
to this dick wad,” she said and pointed a finger at Yoongi.

Minsung’s face blanched and he pulled her closer to him to whisper something in her ear that Yoongi
couldn’t hear. He watched with mild interest as Yoojung rolled her eyes and pushed him away from
her, though in the end she was the one who stumbled. She bumped into the table and, with reflexes
that Yoongi hadn’t known he had, Hoseok reached out to grab her glass with one hand and place a
stabilizing one on her back with the other. She mumbled some apologies to Hoseok and took her seat
next to him but Yoongi was relishing the way Minsung rubbed the back of his neck with worry. “I’m
sorry, Mr. Min. She is really drunk.”

“I don’t need you to apologize to him for me,” she snapped.

“It's okay,” Yoongi said and forced a reassuring smile on his face. The truth was he still was on edge
just in case you and Jeon were somewhere in the bar.

“Yes sir. Thank you. Please don’t pay her any attention. She’s been in a foul mood all night,”
Minsung said with a tiny bow before he disappeared into the crowd.

“The nerve of him,” Yoojung muttered and took a large gulp of her drink.

“So, let’s try this again. Who are you? You work for Yoongi,” Hoseok asked and the older man
didn’t miss the way his arm hung around the back of Yoojung’s chair.

“Yeah! I do work for that ass.”

Hoseok smirked and turned towards Yoongi, “I take it this is your fuck doll?”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at Hoseok and barked, “I told you not to call her that. And no, she’s not.
This is her friend.”

“Oh? You have a problem with him calling her that? That’s rich after everything you said to her at
the party,” Yoojung spat.

“Give this back,” Hoseok said and grabbed the beer bottle from Yoongi. When Yoongi turned his
incredulous gaze towards him Hoseok merely shrugged, “I have a feeling this is going to be very
enlightening and entertaining. Plus, you’ve had enough to drink tonight.” Hoseok turned back to
Yoojung who was still glaring at Yoongi and said, “please, feel free to let loose at him. He’s refusing
to tell me about the fight.”

“Well it wasn’t much of a fight. It was just him attacking her,” Yoojung growled.

Yoongi let out an irritable sigh. He hadn’t fully decided he wanted to recount the fight with Hoseok
let alone doing it in front of your friend that clearly hated him. His eyes danced around the crowd
again in lieu of saying something to Yoojung that was inappropriate given his title and her clearly
drunken state. “She’s not here,” Yoojung said bitterly and when Yoongi’s eyes met hers she pulled
her lips into a vindictive smile. “She’s with Jungkook. On a date. On a date with a guy who actually
treasures her instead of treating her like a piece of meat.” Yoongi’s mouth twitched at that but he
managed to control his rage.

Hoseok leaned back in his chair and cocked an eyebrow at Yoongi that did nothing to temper his
anger. “So the plot thickens.”

“Yoojung, I don’t know what you are talking about,” Yoongi said in a controlled tone. It had
become painfully clear that Jeon knew something was amiss about your relationship with him but it
was imperative that no one else learned about it. Yoongi could never be certain where his mother
was getting information from or who she had paid to be an informant.

“Really,” she asked with a raised eyebrow, “because I was the one who took her home that night.
She told me all about it herself. So what is it? Do you just get off on making women cry like that?”
Yoongi noticed that Hoseok’s playful smile had dropped. He knew his friend well enough to be
certain that though he was staring at Yoojung he had his full attention on Yoongi out of the corner of
his eye. “Does it make you feel powerful to attack her? Do you feel like a big, strong man when you
fuck her and then tell her no one will ever want anything other than sex from her?”

“Excuse me,” Yoongi scoffed but before he could continue and reprimand Yoojung for speaking to
her boss in such a way Hoseok flashed him a glare.

“Yoongi,” Hoseok said in a low tone. It was more than a warning, it was a judgement. Hoseok was
siding with Yoojung.

“You may not have physically hit her but you hurt her. Do you have no conscience? You don’t feel
bad at all? Are you even fucking human?” Yoojung glared at him from across the table and Hoseok
hadn’t even bothered to turn back towards her when she talked. “It’s a good thing that Jungkook is
there for her. If he hadn’t found her after you left then who knows what kind of state she would be
in.”
His mind flashed to Jeon’s hand around the back of your neck, his lips on yours, and the way he had
moved his body just enough to be sure that Yoongi had a perfect view of the whole scene. “Yes, we
are all lucky that Jeon was there to be her knight in shining armor,” Yoongi spat. “It seemed like a
real burden for him to carry considering she kissed him.”

“So that’s what this is about,” Hoseok said in a low voice. “You feel threatened so you attacked
her.”

“What the hell are you talking about,” Yoongi asked with narrowed eyes.

He turned his head away from Yoongi and looked at Yoojung with a knowing smile. “This is classic
Min behavior. His whole family runs this way. When they feel threatened in any way they lash out at
whoever is hurting them.”

“But why did he feel threatened? She never did anything to hurt him,” Yoojung said with raised
eyebrows. The two leaned in towards each other as if they were sharing a secret.

“Hoseok,” Yoongi growled. His friend heard the threat in the way he said his name but turned his
eyes towards the older man only briefly before he flashed him a rueful grin and returned his attention
to Yoojung.

“He likes your friend,” he said plainly, as if the whole thing wasn’t absurd and ridiculous.
Yoojung laughed but her eyes widened with the admission. “What? That’s impossible.”

“Trust me, it shocked me too,” Hoseok said with a wide grin. “I’ve known him his entire life and he
has never been so affected by someone.”

“I am sitting right here,” Yoongi shouted. Both Yoojung and Hoseok turned their attention towards
him, along with the surrounding tables, but they returned to their huddle as if he wasn’t actually
there.

“What do you mean when you say affected?”

“He’s not sleeping, for one thing. He’s drunk, which may not mean much to you, but I know he only
drinks to excess when he feels like something is out of his control.”

“You know, I saw him watching her from his desk the other day. He was just staring at her while she
worked,” Yoojung said and put her hand on Hoseok’s arm, “is that the kind of thing you are talking
about?”

“She’s affecting your work ethic too,” Hoseok asked with raised eyebrows.

“No! She’s not affecting anything. I just have been having trouble sleeping, that’s all. You are
reading into this too much, Hoseok, and you’re feeding her all of your delusions,” Yoongi said but
he could feel his cheeks heat. He had thought he was more careful than that. If someone like
Yoojung had noticed he had been watching you while you worked then it was possible that anyone
else on the floor had too.

“Holy shit,” Hoseok said with a faint laugh, “you have it really bad, huh? So there’s another guy in
the picture? What did you say his name was?”

“Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. He’s a younger kid, fresh out of college, and he thinks the world of her.
He brings her coffee and breakfast every morning, walks her to the subway after dark, and makes her
smile even when someone,” Yoojung said with emphasis and cast a pointed glance towards Yoongi,
“tears her apart.”

The bitter taste returned to Yoongi’s mouth and he grabbed Hoseok’s beer out of his hand to wash it
away. The more he listened to the two discuss him as if he wasn’t there the more apparent it became
that you were indeed having some kind of effect on him. He had never been so distracted at work,
never regretted the things that he said or the way he noticed small traits and quirks about people to
use as ammo to destroy them later on, and yet his chest still tightened when he thought about the way
you looked in that office. Hoseok wasn’t wrong about his need to attack any time he felt threatened.
His parents had spent their lives teaching him that if you were hurt the best option was to dole out
more pain to your attacker than they had to you. It was a sign of a weak man to do anything else.

“And I bet that’s why he felt threatened,” Hoseok said with a nod.

“Why? Because Jungkook is the better guy?”

“No. Because he can express himself to her in a way Yoongi can’t.”

Yoongi knew he should have butted in to their bantering to dismiss Hoseok’s assumptions but his
mind was muddled. A part of him, one that was quickly growing too difficult to ignore, felt relieved
that the idea had finally been spoken, even if it didn’t come from his own mouth. It wasn’t something
he wanted to admit, and if either Yoojung or Hoseok had addressed it directly to him at that moment
he would have denied it, but the thought had furrowed its way into some dark recess of his mind and
had buried itself stubbornly.
The idea that he could care for someone so intensely that his life was altered when they removed
themselves from his was terrifying. Anytime he considered the possibility that you had somehow
wormed your way into such a level of importance to him his mind flashed to warnings from his
parents about love being the ruin of otherwise strong people. Love, affection, loyalty, and trust were
for weak people. They made people vulnerable and Yoongi couldn’t afford to be susceptible. His
dedication to Hoseok and his mother were already sore topics in his family, his parents never
understood his loyalty to someone so utterly worthless in their views, he could only imagine the
backlash if he announced his feelings for you. Of course his mother and her vindictive ways towards
anyone who threatened the company had crossed his mind with relation to you but the truth was that
it wasn’t the only thing keeping him from admitting that he had grown weak. If he couldn’t
understand his own feelings, couldn’t tolerate the idea that perhaps you had become somehow more
important to him than he had originally intended, then how could he ever express himself to anyone
else, much less you?

“Cut it out,” Yoongi hissed. He didn’t need to hear yet another way Jeon was better for you than
him. He knew well enough on his own that any and all feelings for you that he had were better left
unsaid.

“Oh? Have I hit a sensitive topic,” Hoseok said with a knowing smile.

“Frankly, I don’t give a damn whether you just want to fuck her or if you think you are in love,”
Yoojung said in a sharp tone and when Yoongi met her gaze with his glare she didn’t flinch. “From
everything she told me she had made it perfectly clear to you that she was interested in dating you.”
She stood from her seat and muttered, “who the fuck even knows why,” before she leveled her own
glare at her boss. “As far as I am concerned you had your chance and you blew it pretty
spectacularly. She’s happy with Jungkook so if you do actually have feelings for her like your friend
here claims you do then just let her be.”

“My name is Jung Hoseok, actually,” Hoseok chimed in and leaned in towards her with a dazzling
smile but Yoojung ignored him.

“I hope it hurts you to see her happy with him. I hope you feel every bit as awful as you made her
feel,” she said in a cool voice and Yoongi wished he could ignore the way his chest sunk with her
words. She turned on her heel to face Hoseok, “I wish I could say it was nice meeting you but it’s
not comforting to know there are two guys out there who refer to my friend as a fuckdoll. So,” she
said with a sigh and a shrug, “it’s been real. I guess. Bye.”

“Wait,” Hoseok called after her, the smile from before having completely vanished from his face,
“I’m not like him! I am absolutely not like him.” Yoongi assumed he should feel offended by
Hoseok’s insistence that he was different, perhaps better, than him but he merely rolled the beer
bottle between his fingers, too caught up in his own misery to enjoy his friend floundering to save
face in front of a pretty girl.

Yoojung scoffed and said with a lopsided grin, “honestly it’s too bad you refer to women that way. I
thought you were pretty cute until you opened your mouth.”

Hoseok’s mouth dropped and Yoongi used the lull in his friend’s emphatic self-defense to watch
Minsung sneak up behind Yoojung and casually throw his arm around her shoulder. “Are you
done,” he asked and leaned in towards her ear, “because I was thinking that we could head back to
my place.” His voice was slurred and he tried to whisper but the alcohol had clearly done a number
on his sense of volume.

Yoojung met Hoseok’s eyes again and even from Yoongi’s angle he could see that his friends face
had taken on a more stoic look, one that was carefully guarded. “No thanks, Minsung,” Yoojung
said with a sigh, “it looks like it is going to be just me and my vibrator tonight afterall.” She pushed
his hand off her shoulder and took off into the crowd without a second glance back. Yoongi watched
Minsung and some of their friends trail after her but he was more amused by the way Hoseok’s eyes
followed her too.

“What’s wrong, Hobi,” Yoongi asked in a high pitched sing-song voice. “Did you see something
you liked?” It was small consolation for Yoongi to tease his friend with such a grating voice but it
took his mind off of his own troubles for a moment.

Hoseok turned around in his chair and snatched the beer bottle out of Yoongi’s hands before he
leaned back in his chair. “Don’t think that I’ve forgotten about you and the girl. We aren’t done
here,” he said then downed the rest of the bottle. “So things aren’t working in your favor, I take it.”

Yoongi sighed heavily and leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling of the bar. “You could say
that,” he admitted with a groan. Yoongi hoped Hoseok knew him well enough to realize that was
likely the closest he was going to get to a confession from him.

“I’m going to go get us more drinks. When I get back I expect you to start from the beginning,”
Hoseok said and stood from the table. Yoongi groaned again but Hoseok merely shrugged, “if you
want my help then that is my stipulation. I can’t give you advice if I don’t understand fully where
you stand.”

When Hoseok returned to the table Yoongi downed his drink as quickly as he could to try to numb
the part of him that desperately wanted to not admit anything. If there was anyone in the world that
he could be honest with and not expect them to unfairly judge him it was Hoseok. Yet when he
finished laying out his history with you, complete from the start of the agreement to the kiss with
Jeon at the company party, he looked up at his only friend to find him leaned back in his seat with his
arms crossed in front of his chest, a bored look on his face. Yoongi stared back at him in disbelief.
He had just laid out his feelings as truthfully as he ever had. Surely Hoseok had to have some kind of
reaction.

“Why are you looking at me like that? You have nothing to say? You don’t want to rip into me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you expect me to be shocked that you would say those things to someone,”
Hoseok asked in a sarcastic voice and sat up to lean over the table. “Look, I’m going to be honest
with you, Yoongi. You’ve really fucked up. You have to apologize. You absolutely have to. I don’t
care how uncomfortable it makes you.”

“I tried,” Yoongi said and rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. The alcohol was draining him
and his mind was already too hazy to think straight. He wished he could have blamed how drunk he
was on Hoseok plying him with alcohol to get him to open up but he knew it was his own doing.
Most of it had occurred while watching you laugh at Jeon’s jokes and let him hold your hand over
the table of that god forsaken restaurant.

“Really?” Hoseok said but he didn’t sound convinced.

“Yes, really. I might have, maybe, possibly, followed her on her date with that kid tonight,” Yoongi
mumbled quickly. Hoseok let out a loud groan and Yoongi could only nod with the heels of his
palms still embedded in his eye sockets. “Trust me, I know. I went to the restaurant they were going
to and watched them. She seemed so happy,” Yoongi said in a softer voice and lowered his hands
away from his face. He could remember the way you had beamed at Jeon, the way the candlelight
flickered across your face and somehow made you even more beautiful than you were in normal
lighting. “It made me angry,” he confessed.
“Why? To see her happy?”

“To see her so happy with him,” Yoongi corrected Hoseok. “I don’t think she ever looked that
happy with me,” he muttered and grimaced at how weak he sounded. If there was one thing he was
grateful for it was that only Hoseok was around to hear his admission. “I lost control. I interrupted
their date and sat down at the table with them,” Yoongi said and waited for Hoseok to stop groaning
before he continued. “I tried to apologize to her but Jeon interrupted me and then they left. It all
happened so quickly but I really did try to apologize.”

“Do you want me to congratulate you for that? Are you seriously looking for me to pat you on the
back for trying to apologize to her in the middle of her date with another guy?”

“No. Of course not,” Yoongi said sheepishly.

“Good because, if anything, you’ve only made it worse. She doesn’t owe you the chance to
apologize. That’s on you,” Hoseok said in a harsh voice. It landed somewhere between a hiss and
the familiar cadence his mother took when she lectured the two when they were children.

“But how do I apologize if she won’t talk to me?”

“Well you don’t fucking follow her on a date! She isn’t your girlfriend and she isn’t your property,
Yoongi. She is free to see whoever she wants and to avoid anyone she doesn’t want to,” Hoseok
said with a pointed tone. “You fucked up pretty royally, even by your standards. I honestly think
your only option is to wait until she talks to you and then apologize profusely.”

“Would she even understand?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve known you my whole life and even I barely feel like I know how your mind
works. I get that your parents fucked you up and your instinct is to attack when you are threatened
but you don’t get to use that as an excuse you entire life. You are an adult. You can change if you
want. You make the choice everyday to keep living the way you have been and, honestly, I don’t
think you stand a chance if you keep acting like a Min.”

Yoongi scoffed, “gee, thanks.”

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you, Yoongi. If you keep living like your parent’s kid then I don’t
think you have a chance at much in life except for financial success. This goes beyond this girl,
honestly. I’ve thought about this for a long time,” Hoseok said and rolled his beer bottle between his
fingers. “You have me and mom, obviously, but there’s no one else is there? I mean, when was the
last time you talked to your mother about something not related to the company?” Hoseok waited for
an answer but Yoongi’s mind went blank. He couldn’t recall a time he had talked to his mother as
anything other than his boss in years. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Do you think any of that is going
to change if you keep acting how you have been? Who is going to want to deal with that? You’re
hard for me and mom to understand sometimes and we’ve known you for so long. Someone new
doesn’t stand a chance. You look for people’s weaknesses as soon as you meet them and you keep it
locked up in that twisted head of yours just in case you need to hurt them. When do you ever really
let down your guard? You can’t be with someone if you can’t be vulnerable. It just doesn’t work that
way.”

“So you think to have a chance with her I need to start acting like you,” Yoongi asked with a
skeptical tone.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m saying you don’t stand a chance with her. Give up on that
idea for now.” Hoseok said it so casually, as if Yoongi’s chest wasn’t collapsing with every word.
“Maybe you can make something work out with her in the future or maybe you will move on to
someone else but my point is that you need to work on yourself first.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Are you giving me that old adage about not being able
to love anyone until you love yourself?”

Hoseok shrugged and finished the rest of his beer. “A little bit, sure, but mostly I’m telling you that
no one is going to want to open up to you and be vulnerable if you aren’t willing to do the same.
You need to fix yourself if you want anyone to take a chance on you,” he said and stood up to put
his coat on. “And let’s be clear about one thing here, Yoongi. She’s the one who would be taking the
chance on you, not the other way around.”

Yoongi didn’t answer for a moment as he watched Hoseok button up his coat. This is what Hoseok
was great at, telling Yoongi exactly what he needed to hear even if it wasn’t what he wanted.
“Thanks, Hoseok,” he muttered softly.

“Just think it over. You know how to reach me if you need any help doing whatever you decide,”
Hoseok said and turned towards the door but stopped after a few steps. “Oh, and Yoongi, don’t
follow her on anymore dates, okay? You’re only going to make it harder on yourself. If she’s happy
with someone else then let her be. Focus on yourself and maybe it will work out in the end.” Without
waiting for a response he disappeared into the crowd and left Yoongi at the table by himself.

For a long time Yoongi sat at the table and traced the grain of the wood with his fingernail. His mind
was foggy, tired, and pulled in too many directions. He tried to focus on what Hoseok had said but
could only think of what you were doing with Jeon. Perhaps after dinner Jeon had taken you to a
movie, something completely cliche, or maybe he had taken you to a bar somewhere else in the city.
Maybe you had drank as much as he had, your cheeks rosy from the liquor, or perhaps from
whatever Jeon whispered into your ear, and with dilated eyes you would follow him back to
wherever it was that you lived. Yoongi could imagine you kissing Jeon like you had at the party,
something chaste and entirely innocent but it would deepen and before long he would have you
pressed against the door to your place and whisper something about not ending the night just yet. A
man laughed loudly behind Yoongi and graciously pulled him from his thoughts. His gut twisted and
rolled again, a sensation he had become all too familiar with. Without thinking he pulled his phone
from his pocket and let his fingers tap at the screen until he had pulled up your name, “Dollface”, and
typed a short simple message.

Dnt sleep wiht him. Don’t. Please. Im srry.

His finger hovered over the ‘send’ button but something held him back. Hoseok’s words flashed
through his mind again and slowly, reluctantly Yoongi erased the message and pocketed his phone
again. He didn’t own you. He didn’t have any right to make such a request of you. You didn’t
belong to him anymore, if you ever had.

If he had hoped to sleep better that night then he was sorely mistaken. He laid in his bed that felt
entirely too large suddenly and stared at his ceiling for most of the night. Anytime he tried to close
his eyes the image that had haunted him since the party waited behind his lids. Your shiny eyes,
reddening nose, your face as you stubbornly refused to let him see you cry, to try to hold one last
shred of dignity after he had lashed out at you so severely. With his eyes open he was free to let his
mind wander to whatever topic he wanted and yet his drunken mind still only thought of you.

Your smile in the candlelight of the garish restaurant, Jeon’s hand enclosed around yours, his hand
on the small of your back, the way you yanked your wrist out of Yoongi’s hand so forcefully. His
own hands clutched at the fabric of his sheets as he let out a low groan. With a quick glance to his
clock he noted it was 3:34 AM in the morning and after that he was done for. His mind immediately
wondered what you were doing. Were you asleep? Had you been sleeping well since the party? Or
were you still with Jeon? He shook his head violently to try to push the thought out of his head. He
had no right to worry about you.

The rising sun didn’t push you from his thoughts. It wasn’t until you walked out of the elevator that
he finally felt like he could breathe again. You were by yourself, a black scarf wrapped around your
neck and a matching beanie covered your head and ears, something you seemed to have taken a
proclivity to wearing everyday. You seemed in good spirits and, thankfully, had shown up to work
alone, though Yoongi was sure Jeon would show up soon with your usual morning coffee and baked
goods. You didn’t notice Yoongi watching you from his desk. You hadn’t even spared so much as a
glance at Yoongi in days even though he seemed to spend hours of his time at work watching you.

You chose to wear a skirt and when Yoongi noticed that he perked up at his desk. You hadn’t worn
anything other than pants since the day of the party. Instead of being happy about this new
development, and the fact that he could sneak glances at your legs, all he could find himself
wondering was what had changed. What had made you feel comfortable in a skirt again? The acrid
taste that he had grudgingly grown familiar with returned to his mouth as he decided that it had to
have been Jeon.

Time felt irrelevant to Yoongi as his pen hovered over a form he was meant to be attending to.
Meetings with the board, staff, and with his mother had all but slipped his mind as he watched you at
your desk. You attentively and carefully placed your purse on your desk as you removed the beanie
and scarf that had inexplicably become staples of your wardrobe for the past week. He wanted to ask
why you insisted on wearing them so often but knew he wouldn’t get a proper answer. It wasn’t his
place to ask.

He had never noticed the way you smoothed your skirt under you before you sat down. It was a
move he was sure countless women did but he found that when he took the time to watch you, to
study you without ulterior intentions, that there was something graceful about the action. You kicked
off your shoes and pushed them under your desk. He had never noticed that you sat barefoot at your
desk. So many hours, probably numerous over the course of the months you had slept together, had
been spent watching you and so much of your daily habits had gone completely unnoticed by him. In
many ways he felt like he was seeing you for the first time.

You rolled your neck as if you it was bothering you and Yoongi found himself wondering why he
had never taken the opportunity to indulge himself in the access you had granted him to your body.
Sure, he had taken his fill of you sexually but he hadn’t tried to be intimate with you, save for the
time he bandaged your hand. The mere thought of your hand resting in his own, your skin warm,
soft, but somehow impossibly light as if there was something delicate or fragile about you in
comparison to him, that he could possibly break you without intending to, brought an intense flush to
his cheeks. He had struggled with what to do to care for you in that moment and could only recall the
steps Hoseok’s mother had taken with him when he would get scrapes and cuts as a careless child
but after the blood had been cleaned he found himself at a loss for how to explain the sudden
intimacy that had taken over the moment. He could still remember the way his eyes dipped down to
your lips and how he wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss you, properly, for the first time
but his mother’s words about weak men rang in his head. He refused to be weak and yet there he
was watching the way you rolled your neck in discomfort and wishing he could slide his hands over
your shoulders and massage them the way he had seen couples in movies do.

Something caught your attention and when you turned to look he could see the way you tapped a
pen against your lips. It appeared to be something you didn’t even notice you were doing. With all
the training he had had to monitor people for weaknesses he couldn’t understand how he had missed
so much about you. Just as he began to question that mystery he noticed a dark pair of eyes glaring at
him. Yoojung had appeared in front of your desk while you were distracted and yet her eyes were
trained on him. She only took her focus off of Yoongi when you turned to face her, the sour grimace
all but gone from her face when she looked at you.

He took the opportunity to try to re-focus on his own work but before long there was a knock at his
door. “Come in,” Yoongi answered after taking a brief glimpse towards your desk to reassure
himself you weren’t about to enter his office. Yoojung entered the room and closed the door behind
her before she closed the distance to his desk. He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that Yoojung
was in front of him instead of you.

“I wanted to apologize,” she said in a whisper and with her eyes downcast.

An apology? From Yoojung? That seemed rare. “You do?”

She nodded slowly but didn’t bring her eyes to meet his. “I do. I woke up this morning and realized
just how drunk I was last night. It was not my place to talk to you the way I did. I’m very sorry, sir,
and I hope you can accept my apology. It won’t happen again.”

“That’s an abrupt change from last night,” Yoongi said with a questioning tone. “What happened to
change your mind?”

Yoojung pursed her lips before bringing her eyes to meet his. Her shoulders rolled back and after a
long sigh she said, “you are my boss and talking to the way I did last night isn’t appropriate. I value
my job here and wouldn’t want to lose it because of my feelings about what may be happening in
your personal life.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle before he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap.
“I can assure you that I wasn’t intending on seeking retribution. I understand you are her friend and
have strong feelings.”

“Then can I have your permission to speak candidly about the subject once more?”

The way he saw it he had two options: tell her to fuck off, that she got away with it once but not
again, and suffer the consequences from your friend hating him even more or let her vent her
frustrations and concerns again even though he already knew she despised him. He decided to err on
the side of caution, unsure if denying her would find it’s way back to you and cause him more
headaches. “Be my guest,” he said with a sigh.

Yoojung leveled her stare with his and where they had once been apologetic and meek they now
held a fire within them. “What makes you think you can do and say those things to people?”

“Excuse me?”

She placed her hands on her hips and walked closer to his desk with a purpose in her steps. “I heard
the excuse from your friend last night about how your family was awful and now you feel the need
to attack when you are scared, and boo-fucking-hoo for you, frankly.” Her voice had raised and she
appeared to not mean for it to as she cast one hesitant glance over her shoulder towards the door and
the open blinds of the glass wall. She cleared her throat and continued while Yoongi tightened his
jaw to keep quiet. “I get it, okay? Your childhood was bad and you didn’t come from a loving home.
That sucks, it really does, but the truth is a lot of us came from bad homes and don’t hurt people!
You’re an adult now. You don’t get to hide behind a sad childhood forever. You need to take
responsibility for how terrible you were to her.”

Yoongi ground his teeth together and ignored the pain from it. She sounded like Hoseok. The only
difference was that Hoseok had the benefit of a lifelong friendship to speak so candidly to him and it
took some of the bite out of the bark. “I tried to apologize already,” Yoongi grumbled.

“Yeah, I heard about your little stunt of crashing her date with Jungkook. That helps nothing. If
anything,” she said with a laugh and crossed her arms in front of her chest, “that just proves that
someone like you doesn’t deserve to be with someone like her.” Yoongi’s eyebrows shot up, his
eyes widened, and his teeth ground against each other with enough force that his jaw ached. Part of
him was incredulous that someone would think he wasn’t good enough for you, or for anyone for
that matter, but another part of him agreed with her. It was clear after Hoseok’s lecture last night that
he was out of his depth with you. Yoojung bit her lip only momentarily then sighed, “no, you know
what? I don’t feel bad about saying that. It’s true. I don’t really care what feelings you think you
have discovered, you’re just no good for her. Jungkook practically worships the ground she walks
on. He’s here every day with breakfast for her, making sure she isn’t hungry, giving her his beanie
and scarf to make sure she isn’t cold when she walks to work, and he walks her to the subway at
night since it is dark.”

Yoojung sighed and rubbed her forehead. Yoongi couldn’t tell if she regretted starting the
conversation or if she was merely frustrated but all he could do was stare at the black hat and scarf
that still stuck out from your purse under your desk. So it was Jeon’s and you were wearing it
everyday he realized with a strong pain in his chest. The bitter taste swirled in his mouth again and
this time he accepted that it was something he would have to get used to with you being so close and
out of his reach.

“Jungkook is the real deal, Mr. Min. He may be a bit of a child sometimes but he really does care
about her. He would never do what you did, regardless of what kind of baggage he carries.”

Yoongi swallowed forcefully. “I understand.”

“I’m not going to tell her that you think you have feelings for her. You don’t get to fuck with her
head anymore on my watch,” she said in a low voice and narrowed her eyes at the CEO. “I hope she
ends up with Jungkook. Or, if she doesn’t, then I hope she ends up with someone else and lives
happily ever after like some kind of storybook romance. If it is up to me she will never know how
you feel because your feelings don’t matter anymore.” Yoongi couldn’t help but return her glare, his
fingers curled into each other as they rested on his lap, his nails dug into his skin in order to keep
from attacking her the way he had been raised. Nothing good would come from that.

Yoojung paused as if she was waiting for Yoongi to respond but he couldn’t fathom what the right
words to say would be. Anything that came to his mind would be too harsh to say to her, especially
given how little she thought of him and how close she was to you, but he couldn’t bring himself to
ask her to leave his office either. She merely nodded, taking his silence as acceptance, and headed for
the door. Just as her hand landed on the handle she turned to look at him one more time. “Stay away
from her. I don’t even think you understand how badly you hurt her. Remember, someone like you
doesn’t deserve someone like her.” She shook her head as if she was disgusted by him then left the
room.

Yoongi watched as Yoojung stopped at your desk again, all traces of the frowns and glares she had
sent his way gone as soon as she was back in your presence. You smiled and said something that
caused her to laugh loudly. Then, before he even registered his presence, Jungkook was at your desk
with his damned coffee and baked goods in his hands. You accepted them with a giant smile on your
face and seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Yoongi’s eyes were trained on you. You also
seemed to not notice the way Yoojung and Jungkook’s eyes trailed over to Yoongi every time you
looked away from them. It was as if they were silently taunting him -- or was it a threat?
After one particularly harsh glare from Yoojung, Yoongi turned his attention back to his work. He
willed his mind to forget that you were mere feet away from him and not at all interested in speaking
to him. Though it was difficult to do, he found that if he could focus on the paperwork at hand he
could easily lose track of time and you for a few hours. It was a welcome reprieve.

When he finally pulled himself away from work he found that you weren't alone at your desk again
but this time your visitor sent a cold shiver down his spine. He flung himself out of his chair, ignored
the way it noisily banged against the desk, and all but ran to his office door. He tossed it open and
squawked out a very embarrassing and weak, “mother!”

“Hello Yoongi,” she said in a calm and pleasant tone that he was sure had fooled you and anyone
else she may have spoken to but he didn't buy it. Her hands held a black satchel in front of her,
demure and the picture of class, but Yoongi knew what that bag meant. She hadn't stopped by for
some impromptu invitation to lunch or whatever a normal mother might do, she had come for
business.

“This is your mother,” you asked with an awestruck tone. You had stood from your seat when
Yoongi made his entrance and drank in the sight of the older woman. Yoongi supposed that to others
she seemed beautiful and serene but they were all blind. Her dark hair tied in a tight bun on top of
her head was merely a way to hold back her naturally sagging skin, the struggling state of the
business having kept her from her routine trips to the cosmetic surgeon. Her smile was taut and
strained though Yoongi was sure no one else would notice a tell like that from the seemingly fragile
woman.

Before he could answer she turned to you again and tilted her head to the side. “Can’t you see the
family resemblance?”

“I’m sorry, of course I can,” you said quickly and stumbled over your words. “I guess I just never
pictured Mr. Min having a family.”

“Why not? Has my son done something to make you think he wouldn’t have been raised by a loving
family?” Yoongi could see his mother’s smile twist cruelly and his eyes dashed between the two of
you in a panic. Every muscle in his body was stiff and his throat constricted painfully. Your cheeks
flushed and your eyes fell to your desk. It was obvious to Yoongi that his mother knew something
about the two of you, the question had been too direct for anything else. Clearly the answer was not
something you wanted to explain to his mother and he had his suspicions what it entailed. When you
didn’t answer his mother leaned in, ever so slightly, as she peered down at your timid frame. “How
well do you know my son, anyways? I don’t think I got your name, dear.”

Your shoulders tensed under her questioning. It was slight, and Yoongi was sure in most situations
he would have been the only one to notice, but his mother sneered callously as soon as your body
shifted. “It’s just a question. Why are you so intimidated by me?” She then turned to Yoongi and
raised a thin eyebrow, “what have you done to this girl to make her like this? Are all the employees
here so meek?”

She absolutely knew something. Yoongi could hear his heart race in his ears but he kept his eyes
trained on his mother. He suspected that even one misplaced glance in your direction would confirm
her suspicions. “Why don’t we talk in my office, mother?”

“After you, dear,” she said cooly. Yoongi made sure to not look at you as he led his mother into his
office and once he closed the door behind her he lowered the blinds so no one could see into the
room. “You haven’t changed the office much since you took over,” she sighed and took her seat in
front of his desk.
“Why are you here,” Yoongi asked curtly. He took his seat across from his mother and focused on
keeping his face unreadable though every muscle in his body was tense.

“I'm sure you've seen the new projected profits report,” his mother sighed and crossed her legs. She
let her black bag drop to the floor as her eyes gazed around the room slowly. “We are in the red
again. That's unacceptable, Yoongi.”

“It's just an estimate.”

“Yes, son, I know what projected means,” she snapped before she returned to her cool facade. “You
were in the red the past few months too. Why would I expect that this month would be any
different?”

“We’re about to start some new projects which should raise the-.”

“I'm not interested in risks,” she interrupted. Her dark eyes trained back on his and she quirked an
eyebrow. “I've already taken on enough risks by putting you in your father’s seat. I want to know
where your focus is. Where has your attention been these past few months?”

Yoongi could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The conversation was getting to closer
to what he suspected she had come to discuss in the first place and he dreaded it. “My entire focus
has been on the company.”

She hummed an acknowledgment and slowly nodded her head. “Well that's good to hear. I had
gotten word that your head was elsewhere lately,” she said and tapped her hand against her black
bag.

Yoongi’s jaw tightened but he focused on remaining as unreadable as possible. “Is that so? Where
else would my attention be?”

She let her eyes trail lazily around the room again before she turned slowly in her seat to look back at
the window that looked over the office floor. She turned back to face Yoongi again and sighed with
a shrug, “who knows? It's good to hear your priorities are in order.” She stood without an
explanation and grabbed her bag.

Yoongi followed her actions and nodded, “nothing is more important than the family and the
company,” he said and was pleased to hear the bitterness he felt hadn't seeped through to his voice.

“That’s right,” she said and walked towards the door, Yoongi followed behind her, but when she
was halfway there she stopped abruptly. Yoongi, with his head still in a panic and wondering if he
had misread her intentions completely, narrowly avoided running into her back before he sidestepped
her and finished the walk to the door. “You know, of course,” she said as Yoongi’s hand froze on
the door handle, “if ever I find that something or perhaps someone is threatening the success of this
company I will be forced to take matters into my own hands.”

Yoongi refused to drop his mother’s stare but he could have sworn his heart stopped. “I’m sure that
you wouldn’t let some superfluous distraction keep you from following in your father’s footsteps.
This family is depending on you. Beyond that all of those poor saps out there are depending on you
to keep this company running so they have paychecks. Before you consider letting,” she paused and
her eyes darted meaningfully to the window overlooking the office floor again, “something take
priority over the company, think about that.”

Yoongi’s jaw tensed, his teeth ground against each other painfully, but he managed to nod his head.
“Of course.”
She returned his nod slowly and met him at the door. After he opened it she walked through but
stopped after she had stepped through the door frame. Her eyes fell on you again but Yoongi refused
to spare you a glance, terrified that his mother would interpret it as confirmation of her suspicions. “I
didn’t raise you to be a weak man,” she said in a low voice. “Don’t let someone make you one
now.” With that she walked away from Yoongi and as she passed your desk she hummed a chirpy,
“have a good day dear.”

Your head darted up from your computer and you stuttered out, “yes, ma'am. You too.”

Yoongi didn’t move from his office doorway until he watched the doors of the elevator close behind
his mother. He knew your eyes were on him, questions surely on the tip of your tongue, but his
entire body was tensed. It felt as if every nerve in his body was on fire, electric shocks coursed
through his body, and all he could do was turn around and slam his office door behind him. Within
the safety of his office he let his head fall into the door and a low growl out of his throat.

She knew. Any doubt he had that she knew went out the window with her last words to him.
Somehow she knew about his agreement with you and she didn’t approve. He had no way of being
sure how she found out, possibly gossip from the other employees, maybe the board had gotten wind
of the amount of time you spent in his office, or perhaps she had sunk her claws into one of your
coworkers and now he had a spy in his building. Whatever way she had gotten the information it
was absolutely clear that she knew about you. He had no way of knowing whether or not she knew
about his feelings extending past a physical attraction for you but he worried that she might.

He took his seat behind his desk and tried to clear his mind. He tried to focus on the paperwork at
hand, to make phone calls he had put off over the past week, or to answer his emails that had piled
up but his mind wouldn’t quiet. If she knew about his feelings for you then he wasn't sure how to
proceed. She would be watching his every move. He would have to keep his distance from you,
though that shouldn’t be difficult since you were ignoring him. Once again his mind was completely
overrun with thoughts of you. It was quickly becoming his new normal and he wasn’t sure he could
learn to focus past the thoughts and images of you that swam through his mind.

He hadn’t intended to let his thoughts drift to such things, had meant for them to stay off of you
entirely, but there he was remembering the way you looked bent over his desk. His hand roamed
over the wood absentmindedly, as if he could still feel your warmth on the surface. With a
pronounced gulp he let himself succumb to the train of thought and leaned back in his chair to lose
himself in them. It had been many days since he had heard them but he could still distinctly
remember the way your whimpers grew louder anytime he sucked on your neck, the way the ends of
your moans turned to whines if he whispered the right words in your ear, and the feel of your skin
against his. It was so easy for him to lose himself in the thoughts of you because you had always
been his reprieve from the stresses of his life. You were like a secret sanctuary where he could take
out his frustration and, somehow, leave your side feeling lighter if not desperate to get back to you
again.

Without thinking of the consequences he pulled open the bottom left drawer of his desk and
knowingly reached underneath some folders to pull out the lace panties he had taken from you days
before. His fingers ran across the fabric before he had managed to free them from their secret
compartment and as soon as he felt the lace his cock pushed against his pants. It was ridiculous that
the mere memory of you could elicit such a physical response from him. How the mighty had fallen.

The musky smell of your soiled underwear hit his nose and a not-so-small part of him guiltily
enjoyed the scent. Memories of you flooded his mind as he closed his eyes and succumbed to the
lustful imaginings of his head. His free hand found it’s way to the bulge in his pants and shamelessly
stroked himself through the fabric. Your panties still rested in his other hand, his fingers traced the
delicate pattern of the frail fabric, and he could suddenly remember you bent over the very desk you
sat at in front of his office, a trail of his cum leaking out of your used body. He grunted lowly as his
fingers fumbled with his belt, desperate for more relief than palming himself over his pants would
grant him. He was grateful he had closed the blinds so no one could see him, of course, but also so
that he couldn’t see you and the way you ignored him.

A secret fantasy of his seeped into his thoughts. It was one he would be hesitant to ever take part in,
especially now that he knew his mother was more aware of what happened in the office than he had
originally suspected, but it had shown up in the late hours of the evening the last few nights when he
couldn’t sleep. He imagined you propped up on Jeon’s desk, the office empty other than you and
him, and your skirt hitched up by your waist. In the fantasy Yoongi sat in Jeon’s desk chair, leaned
back in an awe-struck silence while you spread your legs in front of him. One of your hands slowly
trailed down your thigh until you reached your bare core. Your fingers stretched your lips and
exposed your pink pussy to him as you begged him to taste you. In the fantasy your juices ran down
his chin and spread over Jeon’s desk and paperwork. He wasn’t too proud to admit that his favorite
part of the fantasy was knowing Jeon would show up the next morning and sit down for work none
the wiser of what had taken place the night before and how you had screamed his name louder than
you ever had.

His mind was blank of all his previous concerns about his mother, much the same way it was when
he was with you before, and he relished the moment of peace before reality would inevitably slam
into him again. He stroked himself in his office without a single worry about everything that was
piling on top of him. His mind only contained memories of you. His breath became saccadic and
labored but he didn’t stop. Every time he had jerked himself off since the party he hadn’t been able to
think about you, had had to fill his head with something else or it all became too heavy to continue,
but he had finally found some kind of reprieve and was so intent and focused on keeping it for as
long as he could that he didn’t even hear his office door open.

His first clue he wasn’t alone in the room came just as he was about to release himself onto your
soiled panties but as soon as he heard your gasp his eyes shot open with alarm. He had hoped that
the sound was just a part of his imagination, that he was so lost in his thoughts that he could dream
up such a lifelike gasp, but as soon as he saw you standing in the doorway with one hand over your
mouth he felt all the weight of the world land on his shoulders again. Your eyes darted quickly
between his cock, his hand now frozen in place at his base, and the red lace entrapped in his other
hand before you finally met his gaze.

Yoongi wasn’t positive what you were doing in his office, and was even less sure of what would be
the next words out of your mouth, but he knew the next moments didn’t need to be broadcasted
around the floor. “Close the door for fuck’s sake,” Yoongi hissed and quickly tried to stuff himself
back into his pants. He could feel his cheeks heat under your stare and tried to ignore the quiet shame
that filled him. He felt like a small child who would be scolded for something foolish.

“What are you doing,” you whispered harshly and closed the door.

“Clearly I thought I was alone,” Yoongi bit back but refused to meet your gaze.

“Your door wasn’t even locked!”

“Most employees have the decency to knock before they barge in,” Yoongi hissed and immediately
regretted it. It was the first time he had talked to you alone since the night of the party and nothing
was working the way he had intended. He took a deep breath and steadied himself, “what do you
need?”

You stared at him silently and Yoongi wished he could read your thoughts. With your arms crossed
in front of your chest and you brow furrowed you looked as if you were deep in concentration but
Yoongi hadn’t the faintest idea over what. “Were those my panties,” you finally whispered.

Yoongi clutched the soiled fabric under his desk. “No,” he said curtly and met your eyes. You didn’t
look impressed or like you believed him and Yoongi’s heart raced with his shame.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to.” An awkward silence filled the room but neither one of you moved to mend it.
Yoongi sat up straight in his chair, much like a schoolboy being reprimanded by his teacher, and you
hovered by the door as if you were uncertain whether you should enter into his domain further.
Neither of you broke the stare you shared, your eyes intently glued to each other as if you were
daring the other to speak.

“Why were you at that restaurant last night,” you finally asked.

Yoongi should have been appreciative that the conversation seemed to have shifted from his obvious
masturbation but he bristled with the question. “I go there a lot. I didn’t know you would be there,”
he answered in a softer voice than he intended. He wasn’t sure what had happened to make lying to
you harder than it should have been. The night before he had been able to place the blame on alcohol
but now that he was sober and you were no longer in neutral territory but in his own lair he found
that the weight of unsaid words still rested heavy on him and clouded his mind.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You go to Cupid’s Lullaby,” you asked incredulously and tilted your head to the side.

Neither of you had broken the stare and Yoongi took this opportunity to narrow his eyes. It was clear
he wasn’t a convincing liar in front of you anymore but perhaps he could intimidate you. “Is there
something you needed?”

“Were you there because of me,” you asked in a whisper. Your fingers dug into your arms and it
looked as if you were hugging yourself, trying to protect yourself from him.

To answer with the truth would be to admit his weakness and though his mind still swam with the
elusive and lustful thoughts from moments before he could still remember the tone of his mother’s
warning. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from you. You looked small but determined. He chose to
remain silent, a mark on it’s own of his weakness, but one less damning than admission.

“You have no right to barge in on my date like that,” you hissed after a moment of silence.

“I told you I didn’t know you would be there. And besides,” Yoongi barked back, “you and Jeon
seemed to be having a lovely time. I’m sure that continued after you left.”

“That is none of your business,” you said and narrowed your eyes at him. You stomped towards his
desk and pointed a finger at him, “that is absolutely none of your business. You don’t get to show up
on my date like that. You have absolutely no right!”

“Why are you here? You haven’t talked to me in days,” Yoongi said bitterly.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “oh it must have been really difficult for you what with your
dates.”
“My dates?”

“Your date last night? You seemed proud of it. I’m sure she was beautiful and that she wasn’t your
first,” you said callously.

Yoongi had forgotten all about his lie last night, somehow it had gotten lost in the drunken blur of the
evening, but as soon as he heard your bitter tone he couldn’t help but smirk. “Are you jealous,
babygirl?”

Your eyes widened just a fraction but he noticed and his chest swelled with hope. “Why would I be
jealous? We didn’t agree to only sleep with each other.” Yoongi didn’t miss the past tense in your
statement and his chest twisted with it. “You are free to sleep with whoever you want. I’m sure
Matilda would take your cock really well,” you said with narrowed eyes and a sarcastic tone.

“Probably about as well as you took Jeon’s,” Yoongi bit back.

“Is that what you were masturbating about? Imagining me bouncing on Jungkook’s dick?” Your lips
twisted into a cocky smirk but your eyes still showed your anger. Yoongi’s eyes flashed and he
couldn’t help the frown that appeared on his face. He was at least proud that he didn’t utter a word
though he felt like yelling. “Was Matilda not that great last night? So you had to come to work and
jerk one off with the help of my panties? Do they still smell like your cum?”

Yoongi couldn’t believe the words actually came from your mouth. He could see the anger on your
face. He knew the words were meant to be hurtful, to spite him and frustrate him, but he felt his cock
throb in his pants again. He had never seen you so spiteful and found himself unprepared to counter
it. “They do, actually,” Yoongi said and cocked an eyebrow.

You stuttered for a moment, caught off guard by his admission, and your cheeks darkened as you
tried to think of what to say. “So you were jacking off to my underwear? What? Could Matilda not
get you off last night?”

“I told you. I didn’t have a date with Matilda last night.”

“Then whoever she was. What? Did she not agree to let you call her a fuck doll and use her however
you want before you insulted everything about her?”

There it was. The elephant in the room had been addressed and, while he was happy to finally have
it out in the open, his guilt surfaced quickly and weighed down on his shoulders. “I didn’t have a
date at all last night. I haven’t,” Yoongi said and closed his eyes as he worked through his
embarrassment, “been with anyone besides you since we agreed to this thing.”

“Oh,” you said and shifted your weight uncomfortably. “Then why did you lie last night and say you
were going to meet a date.”

Yoongi stared at you but couldn’t find the nerve to admit that jealousy had driven him there. He left
the question to hang there. “I wasn’t with anyone last night,” he reiterated instead and hoped you
would let the question die.

Your eyes left his face and travelled down his arm until the desk obscured your view of his hands
though they still held your panties. “So why are you jacking off at work?”

“Because I didn’t have another option.”

“You weren’t going to call me,” you asked and raised your eyebrows.
“I didn’t think you would come.”

“I wouldn’t.” You bit your lower lip as if you were mulling over a thought. “You owe me, you
know.”

Yoongi nodded. “I know. I was trying to apologize last night,” he said.

“On my date? You were going to apologize while I was out with someone else?”

“How else was I going to get to talk to you?”

You scoffed, “oh I don’t know, Mr. Min. Why not talk to me while I’m sitting right outside of your
office. Or call me. You have my number obviously.”

Yoongi gulped. He certainly felt weak and wondered if his mother’s warning when he was a child
was absolutely true. “You’re right.”

“I really shouldn’t even be here.”

“Then why are you still here?”

You sighed deeply and let your eyes trail down to his lap again. “Because I’m considering doing
something I probably shouldn’t.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened but he was lost for words. He was terrified of saying the wrong thing and
ruining the moment, no matter how awkward and tense it might be. “Oh?”

“But on my terms,” you said curtly.

“And what would those terms be?”

“You have never really focused on me,” you said and Yoongi almost laughed out loud at the
absurdity when you had occupied all of his thoughts in recent days. “I think you should make it up to
me.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“You know,” you said casually, as if this wasn’t something you had thought about before, “you’ve
never gone down on me.”

Yoongi’s heart nearly stopped. His secret fantasy of eating you out on top of Jeon’s desk popped into
his head again and he desperately tried to push it away. “I think you’re right,” he said in a monotone,
as if his heart wasn’t racing and pounding in his ears. His fingers twitched around the lace of your
panties in his hand and he tried to still them so as not to give away his excitement.

You cleared your throat, clearly unsure of how to continue being the one calling the shots. Your
subservience to him had always been natural, a welcome and intriguing dichotomy between your
brazen exterior when you initially marched into his office demanding a date. “So now you eat me
out,” you said in a voice that was only slightly nervous.

“How do you want me, babygirl?” It was at that very moment that he realized exactly how far he had
fallen. He had never let a woman he was sleeping with demand something from him and had
certainly never given into a command from one. He was in far deeper than he had suspected.

Your eyes widened and your mouth parted in surprise. “You’ll do it?”
“Anything for you,” Yoongi said and as soon as he realized the words had come out from his mouth
he coughed to clear his throat. “Anything to make it up to you, I mean.”

“Let’s be clear. This doesn’t make up for what you said to me. This is just the start.” Your eyes
suddenly turned sure and serious again.

“Fair enough.”

You moved around his desk and pushed his chair away from the desk with a sure and brazen shove.
You hopped onto his desk and positioned yourself on the edge with an unsure and timid smile on
your face, one that you clearly tried unsuccessfully to hammer into a confident smirk. Your fingers
rested on the hem of your skirt, only inches away from exposing yourself to Yoongi again, but you
turned around and eyed the door uncertainly.

“No one will come in,” Yoongi said reassuringly.

“T-t-that’s not what I was thinking,” you said and gnawed on your lower lip. Yoongi could see your
hesitation, that something else was on your mind and trying to convince you to leave. His hand, the
one not gripping your panties, darted out and rubbed your calf slowly and massaged your warm skin.

“You can leave at any time,” he said in a low voice, resigned to whatever fate you chose.

He watched your jaw tense as you swallowed. You turned back towards him and shook your head,
“no. I’m fine. Let’s do this,” you said and lifted yourself to help hike your skirt up to your waist.

Yoongi’s eyes drifted to your spread thighs and the fabric that covered your core. He could smell
your perfume and the way it mixed with the scent of your arousal. It was all he could do to dig his
fingers into the soft skin of your thighs and pull his eyes back to yours. You were watching him with
wide eyes, a faint dusting of pink across your cheeks, and your mouth parted with an expectant
moan. “Are you sure about this,” he asked in a low voice. If only his mother could see him then, she
would realize exactly how weak her son truly was. He was only beginning to realize it himself.

“Since when did you start caring if I was okay with it or not? You certainly didn’t seem to mind
when you insulted everything about me.” Your words were cold, harsh, and your stare was
unrelenting, as if you dared him to fight back. He didn’t offer any kind of defense and in the silent
moments that ticked away between you two, with his thumbs running slow circles into the warm
flesh of your thighs, it didn’t even dawn on him to apologize. After a few tense moments of the two
of you staring at each other, you waiting for him to offer an apology, and him waiting for your
assurance that you wanted him to begin, you pursed your lips and sighed. “Get on with it then.”

Yoongi suspected that there was something missing, that words were left unsaid, but had no idea of
his part in the matter. His hands slipped to the waistband of your panties and when you lifted
yourself off the desk he slid them off your legs and dropped them next to the soiled pair on the floor.
He let his slender fingers run over your slit and you dropped your head to the side at his touch, a
content sigh escaped your lips, and your legs widened eagerly. Yoongi licked his lips as he thought
about how just minutes before he had only imagined this very same fantasy taking place and now
you were there. The side of your neck was exposed and a single vein strained against your skin.
Your eyes were closed as you lost yourself in his touch and he had the sudden urge to kiss you, to
feel the touch of your lips against his, to finally initiate the act himself instead of letting you, but he
shook his head quickly and dismissed the thought. You hadn’t asked him to kiss you and he wasn’t
oblivious to the obvious tension between the two of you. No sense in rocking the boat when he was
being granted access to your body again.

“Move to edge of the desk,” Yoongi said and lowered himself to his knees as you complied. Your
sex was right in front of his face, your scent overwhelmed him, and he suddenly realized how
lacking his fantasy had been. The real you would always be better than the version that visited him in
his fleeting fantasies. He licked his lips, completely aware that your eyes were trained on him, and
spread your lips to reveal your pretty pink core to him.

Truth be told, Yoongi had never actually gone down on a woman. The act had seemed too intimate
to ever partake in. What was the point when he was only sleeping with women to get himself off?
He had never been interested in the pleasure of whatever woman he convinced to open her legs for
him and yet, suddenly, he was worried he wouldn’t be able to please you. He had seen his fair share
of porn, especially in the days that you hadn’t talked to him after the party and he was left to his own
devices, had seen the act performed several times but a strange nervous knot appeared in his
stomach.

“What’s wrong? Have you never eaten a woman out before,” you asked with a scoff and a tilted
head.

Yoongi felt his face flush and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, no, I haven’t. So bear with
me here,” he muttered. He heard you hum an amused answer but ignored it as he lowered his mouth
to you. His lips found the inside of one of your thighs and left open mouthed kisses in a trail towards
your center. Your scent overwhelmed him and he tried to ignore the way his heart beat like a furious
drum in his ear, a constant and deafening thump-thump, thump-thump, in a rapid pattern. His cheek
grazed against your pussy lips that still remained spread open by his fingers and his breath stuttered
in his chest.

With one final burst of willpower, a spurt of bravery he hadn’t considered that he would need, he let
his mouth finally meet your pussy. He placed another open mouth kiss on your exposed core and
was mortified to hear you giggle from above him. “What,” he asked and pulled away from you, “is
that wrong? Was that bad?”

“I’m sorry,” you said and covered your mouth. “No, it was fine, sir. It’s just,” you said and another
fit of giggles overcame you, “your hand is shaking.” You pointed to his free hand which rested on
one of your knees and even Yoongi had to admit that the tremble in the limb was pronounced. “I
didn’t know you could be so terrified, especially over something like this.” Your voice dipped to a
hushed whisper, “it’s cute.”

He wasn’t sure if you had meant for him to hear the last admission so he chose not to address it.
Better safe than sorry. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” you replied and suddenly all the signs of your good mood were gone and
replaced with a stoic exterior. You lodged one of your hands in his hair, your fingernails dug into his
scalp, and you pulled him into you again until his mouth rested against your exposed core. “Now
come on, I don’t have all day. People will notice that I’m gone and start up rumors about me again,
but of course you know that already,” you said bitterly.

He chose to ignore it, not that he really had a choice with how you pushed his mouth into you, and
proceeded to lick a line up your pussy. He assumed it was a good move because your body shook
above him and your grip on his hair lessened. He abandoned his act of spreading your lips in favor of
his thumb finding your clit and rubbing into it, something he was much more familiar with doing.
From his position he could see just over the swell of your breasts that your head lolled back and a
light moan filled the room. He took the boost of confidence it gave him and ran with it, and licked
another line up your slit but this time much slower. His free hand rubbed your knee in an attempt to
hide his trembling terror.

He wondered if his thumb would be better left to your clit or if his tongue could handle the job as he
licked against you again and watched the way your breasts heaved with each breath. He had never
seen you from such an angle and hated himself for missing out. When your head lolled to the front he
could see the way your brows furrowed with your eyes closed tight and your bottom lip pulled
tightly in between your teeth. He decided to abandon his worries and abandoned your clit in order to
spread your lips again. He could hear you start to say something but it dissolved into nothing more
than a moan as his tongue replaced the sensation you had missed.

All the time he had been with you he had never truly concerned himself with how you felt,
sometimes he wasn’t even bothered to make sure you had cum, and yet as his cock strained against
his pants all he could think about was what it would feel like for you to come undone by his tongue.
His ministrations didn’t seem to be leading you in any other direction as your hand clamped down on
his hair again and you pushed him into you. “Oh my god, Mr. Min,” you moaned and ran your nails
across his scalp.

He let his free hand roam up your thigh, squeeze at your waist, before he settled at one of your
breasts. His fingers tweaked your taut nipple through your blouse and bra and your back arched into
his touch. He considered telling you his name, it seemed too formal for you to continue calling him
by his family name if he was in the middle of such an intimate act, but you keened into his touch as
he let his mouth dip and kiss your core again.

His chin was wet with your juices and he wondered why he hadn’t done this before. “Is this okay,”
he managed to ask when you loosened your hold on his hair.

“Yes,” you moaned when he moved back to your clit. “Please finger me too. I need more,” you
whined.

He couldn’t help the curl of his lips. You had started off so brazen and dominant and still somehow
managed to whine and ask him to use his fingers. “I’ll do anything you want, babygirl,” he growled
and listened to you mewl above him. He did as you asked and left your breast unattended in order to
pump one finger and then two into you. You hiked your legs over his shoulders to give him better
access and lost yourself in his ministrations. He wished for some kind of release for his aching cock
as it pushed against the zipper of his pants but didn’t dare ask.

It didn’t take long, what with his fingers curling into you expertly, months of dedicated practice
paying off, and his tongue attending to your clit for you to begin the all too familiar shudders that
Yoongi knew meant your climax was impending. His tongue was tired, overworked with unfamiliar
movements, but he willed himself to continue. He couldn’t be sure he would ever get the opportunity
to taste you again, to feel you cum because of him, not with all the unspoken words hanging around
the two of you.

“I-I’m gonna cum,” you stuttered in shallow breaths, as if he needed the warning. He was far too
familiar with your body to have missed the signs. He pushed his strained tongue into your clit again
and again as his fingers pumped into you. Your walls tightened against his fingers, your hand
clamped down in a vice grip on his hair, and your body rocked against him as it overtook you. He
lapped up your juices, far gone were the worries of if what he was doing was right or not, and
allowed his tongue to dip around your hole to collect every bit of you.

When he pulled away, after you finally released his scalp, he was greeted with the sight of your
flushed cheeks, your lips swollen from your teeth, and your chest heaving with pants. Your eyes
dipped to his chin and he remembered the juices that had collected there. He wiped it with the back
of his hand and smiled then stood up but your eyes dipped lower to the obvious bulge in his pants.

“Does it hurt,” you asked and didn’t take your eyes away from the bulge. “I mean, if you haven’t
been with anyone since our last time then you haven’t really gotten off properly, have you?”
Yoongi dropped his hand to his crotch and rubbed himself through the fabric. “I can get myself off,
you know.”

“Of course. But not as well as I can,” you said with a coy smirk and pushed yourself off of his desk.
“I mean, shouldn’t I reward you for what a good job you just did,” you asked and pulled at his belt.

Yoongi felt like he was in a trap, like there was no correct way to deal with the situation at hand. If
he dismissed you he was sure you would be offended, if he let you do what he so desperately wanted
then he was ignoring Hoseok and Yoojung’s advice. “Reward me? But I thought I was making it up
to you,” he asked but made no moves to stop you.

Your fingers froze on his belt buckle and the flirtatious smile dropped from your face. “You have a
long way to go for that,” you said in a low tone then lowered your eyes to his belt. Your fingers went
back to work and without waiting for his permission, not that he made any attempt at stopping you,
you dropped his pants to his ankles. You didn’t hesitate to lower yourself to your knees and, when
he didn’t utter a word of displeasure, you pulled his boxer briefs to meet his pants on the floor.

His cock was already leaking precum and you licked your lips at the sight before you licked a line
from the base of his cock to the tip, allowing your tongue to lap up the white beads of his release. He
hissed as he sucked air between his teeth but kept his hands at his side, still unsure of what the right
move was. He was positive it wasn’t to remain as still as a statue as you sucked him off but he was
too scared of making the wrong choice. He had never been in such a situation before, had never
taken into consideration the ramifications of his actions with a woman he had slept with, and was
certain whatever choice he made it would be the wrong one. Yoojung and Hoseok had both told him
to stay away from you, to focus on himself, and yet there he stood half naked with your lips around
his cock.

“What’s wrong with you,” you asked as you stroked his cock slowly to spread your saliva over him.

“N-n-nothing.”

“Then don’t just stand there. Act like you want me to do this,” you said in a weak voice.

“What?” Yoongi was completely taken aback by the statement and rubbed the top of your head
affectionately. “Of course I want you.” The idea that you would think differently was bizarre to him,
he couldn’t fathom why you would assume he wouldn’t.

“Even a whore like me,” you asked in a whisper but turned your eyes back to his cock. Before he
could respond you lowered your mouth onto him and hollowed your cheeks.

The hand that was on the top of your head clutched down on your hair with the unexpected
sensation. Any words he had meant to say died in a strangled moan. He vaguely made a note to
bring up your question later but couldn’t find it within himself to pull you off of him and dismiss the
notion from your head, well aware that he might have been the very person to put it there in the first
place. Any guilt he felt at that realization vanished when your mouth reached his base and your hand
trailed up his thigh until you could palm his balls.

He shouldn’t have been so weak only after a few days of having to resort to his own hand in order to
get off. He had done so countless times before when deadlines loomed and he just didn’t have the
time for you or for anyone else, not that he had ever really considered that option. “Fucking hell,
babygirl,” he moaned and moved his free hand, the one not ensnared in your hair, to stroke your
cheek. “Your mouth is amazing. I had almost forgotten.”

You moved your head along his length while your hand attended to his balls and Yoongi knew it
wouldn’t take long for him to cum. He had been so close to releasing himself on your panties when
you walked in the door, just about to jump off that ledge, but after a brief and terse conversation he
had been brought back to life in between your legs. His hand tightened in your hair and when you
had moved back away from the base of his cock you moaned against him, the vibration travelling up
his body.

Without warning you pulled yourself off of him and looked up at him as your freehand stroked him
slowly. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Whatever you want,” he grunted as your hand twisted around him.

“Fuck my mouth.” Yoongi stared at you with furrowed brows and a mind full of questions but you
silenced him quickly. “Just do it!”

“O-o-okay,” Yoongi muttered but couldn’t help the feeling of guilt that swam in his chest. Hoseok
would not be pleased with him if he knew how little fight he had put up to keep his distance from
you.

Any thoughts of Hoseok were pushed away as soon as you brought your mouth back onto him. He
took a step forward and with the hand lodged in your hair led you to position yourself against the
drawers of his desk. He thrust into your mouth slowly at first, trepidation gnawed at him more than
he cared to admit, but as soon as your free hand gripped onto his hip and pulled him into you he took
his cue. He gathered your hair between both of his hands and shut his eyes in order to try and push
away any negative thoughts and focus only on the feeling of your mouth against him.

His hips bucked into your mouth while your head pushed against his desk, leaving you with
nowhere to run. Everytime he bottomed out a terrific gagging sound came from you as your throat
tightened around his cock. He picked up his pace in order to chase his own high as it dangled in front
of him. Your hand abandoned it’s attempt to play with his balls as his hips snapped at a furious pace
into you and instead chose to hold onto his thighs, a silent encouragement to continue.

He could feel his release close in on him, could feel the way the knot in his lower stomach twisted
and threatened to unravel at a moment’s notice, and completely missed the first knock at the door. It
wasn’t until he groaned, his cum starting to flow into your mouth, that he heard the second knock --
more of a pounding -- on the door. Startled, he pulled out from your mouth and his hands left your
hair but unfortunately he hadn’t stopped cumming just because of the intrusion. When he looked
down at you with wide eyes, after all you two had never been caught before, he noticed that his
white seed had shot out across your face and dropped onto your black skirt.

“Shit,” he whispered and frantically tried to dress himself again but didn’t break eye contact with
you. You stared at him with terrified eyes, streams of white cum slowly congealing along your
forehead, cheeks, chin, and one particularly dangerous glob threatening to drop from your eyebrow
into your eye. “Get under the desk,” he whispered in a harsh voice as another set of loud bangs filled
the room. You nodded and managed to think to grab the two pairs of panties that now littered his
floor before you crawled under his desk and curled yourself into as small of a ball as you could.
When he was fully dressed and confident that you couldn’t be seen from the door he straightened his
tie and rushed to the door.

Usually he only answered for someone to come in from his desk. He very rarely opened the door
himself but felt the need to keep whoever was at the door as far from you as possible. He was acutely
aware that the room may very well smell of sex, that someone may have noticed that you had come
into his office and mysteriously disappeared once inside, and he didn’t want to welcome them in to
get a good look around. He pulled the door open and snapped, “what is it,” before he was aware that
Jeon Jungkook stood on the other side.
His mouth was in a thin line and his eyes were stern and bore into Yoongi with intensity. “I need to
speak with you,” he answered in a low voice and pushed past Yoongi without waiting for permission
to enter.

Yoongi clenched the door handle tightly and closed the door behind Jeon. “What do you want,” he
asked behind clenched teeth. He noticed how Jeon looked around the room, his eyes casually
dropped across the desk before returning to the bookcases that lined the wall.

“Where is she?”

It wasn’t necessary for him to say your name, both men knew there was exactly one woman they
would ever have in common. “She’s not here,” Yoongi said and tried to calm his heart as it still raced
after his orgasm.

“I saw her come in here awhile ago,” Jeon replied and narrowed his eyes in distrust.

“She left.”

“I never saw her leave.”

“I guess you don’t keep as close of a watch on her as you think you do,” Yoongi said bitterly.

Jeon’s jaw clenched as his head turned to look around the office again. “What did she want
anyways?”

“That’s none of your business,” Yoongi said in a low tone.

Jeon stared at him without saying anything for a moment then one side of his mouth curled upwards
and he sighed, “I can’t imagine she had anything nice to say to you after what you did. It must’ve
been a tense conversation.”

Yoongi shoved one hand into his pocket just so Jeon wouldn’t see it curl into a fist. Who did he think
he was to talk to Yoongi that way? To talk to his boss that way? He took a shallow breath then spit
out, “you realize I’m your boss, right? I could fire you for talking to me this way.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that,” Jeon said with a genuine chuckle, the skin around his eyes
wrinkled with his smile. “I don’t think you’re going to fire me when I know so much about you.”

Yoongi felt his heart rate speed again. Flashes of his mother’s conversation and the way she seemed
to know about you ran through his mind and he wondered if Jeon was, in fact, the mole in the office
who was feeding her information. He certainly had the confidence to defy Yoongi, had access to the
information, and had something to gain if Yoongi had to back away from you. “Do you now,”
Yoongi asked, his tone suddenly cold and disinterested. He was under attack and he needed to
protect himself. If he lashed out at Jeon, like the way his parents had taught him, then he risked him
reacting and leaking any information he may still be withholding to his mother.

Jeon strolled lazily around the room, as if he owned the office, but Yoongi stood still and focused on
his hidden fist and digging his nails into the palm of his hand. “Matilda, that was her name right?
That was a nice touch.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I figured you understood that I knew about you fucking around in the office when I hinted at it in
the elevator but I never expected you to bring a paid escort to the party just to put up a front.
Everyone knows you are fucking her. What they don’t know is how awful you are to her.” He
waited for Yoongi to say something but he had no response. It was safer to let Jeon continue talking
and find out all he knew. “Tell me,” Jeon said and leaned against the front of the desk, mere inches
from where you were concealed, “do you even have any feelings for her? Or do you just like to fuck
her and then leave?”

Once again Yoongi didn’t answer but his jaw tensed. He couldn’t possibly admit his feelings for you
to Jeon and certainly not with you hiding under his desk with his cum drying on your face. He had
barely even admitted how he felt to Hoseok, someone he knew his entire life. It wasn’t possible. It
was entirely out of the question so he chose to stare Jeon down instead.

Jeon’s wry smile stretched further across his face as he tapped his fingers against the desk. “That’s
what I thought. You seem like the kind of asshole who would fuck her and then leave her crying. I
guess I shouldn’t complain though. I’m sure you saw that she kissed me that night.” He paused again
and waited for Yoongi’s reply but nothing came. “You sure are a man of few words. Until you want
to destroy some poor innocent girl whose only crime was giving you everything you asked for, that
is. Did she seem like an easy mark for you? Was that it?” Yoongi’s lips twisted into a frown as a
bitter taste swirled around his mouth. “Tell me, why her? What about her makes you want to break
her like that? Do you just want to send her into the arms of someone like me? Someone who cares
about her? Someone who has a modicum of respect for her?”

“You make it sound like she didn’t agree to it,” Yoongi finally answered. His eyes narrowed as he
stared at Jeon boldly leaned against his boss’ desk as if he owned it.

“So that makes it okay then? She said she would fuck you so you get to say and do whatever you
want to her?”

“It means that maybe you don’t know her as well as you think, Jeon. Have you ever fucked her,”
Yoongi asked and stalked towards his employee. His mind was blank except for the urge to attack.
Gone were the concerns about Jeon running to his mother, his need for discretion when it came to
the agreement you two had entered, or even his acknowledgment that you were still trapped under
his desk. “I don’t think you have,” Yoongi growled when Jeon’s eyes narrowed and his slick smile
dropped from his face. “If you had then you would know exactly what she likes and you wouldn’t
stand here like some kind of moral judge and jury. Did things get out of hand that night? Perhaps, but
don’t believe everything you hear, kid. She’s not that innocent. I told her she could leave at any point
and yet she knelt there and opened her mouth for me. I’m surprised she would choose to run into the
arms of someone as immature as you, honestly. I guess there’s no accounting for taste.” He stood in
front of Jeon, close enough to feel the younger man’s breath against his skin, and glared at him. “If
you think you can do better than I did then what is stopping you?”

“The fact that I care about her,” he growled back. “I’m not interested in just fucking her and tossing
her aside.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at her,” Yoongi hissed.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her too. All you see is a piece of ass.”
“No,” Yoongi chuckled, “when I look at her I see her bent over my desk and the look on her face
when she begs for my cock.”
“And that’s all you see?”

“Is there something else to see that is better than that?”

Jeon’s lips curled upwards into a knowing smile and only then did Yoongi remember you hiding
mere inches away from him. His own snarl dropped and he gulped once before he took a step away
from Jeon. “I think there is. Now that I know you have no other feelings for her why don’t you step
aside and let her be happy?”

“Get out of my office,” Yoongi growled.

“Only after you agree to stay away from her,” Jeon spit back.

“Get the fuck out of my office now,” Yoongi demanded and pushed Jeon towards the door by his
shoulder.

Jeon swung his arm back to toss Yoongi’s hands off of him and spun towards him. For a split second
Yoongi thought Jeon would hit him, the look on his face had turned animalistic. “Stay away from
her,” he shouted but his features quickly returned to a cocky grin. He leaned in as close as he could
to Yoongi and whispered, “not that I think you are going to have much of a choice now. Thanks for
that.” He flashed one last lopsided smile at his boss then turned and walked away with his hands in
his pockets. He winked at Yoongi as he closed the door and exited the office.

Almost as soon as the door closed Yoongi heard you scuffle about underneath the desk. He could
feel regret crash down around him. Everything he said, the things he didn’t say, suddenly weighed
heavy on him. You slipped your panties back on in rushed movements and nearly toppled over.
When he reached out to help you, you swatted his arm away viciously. “Don’t fucking touch me,”
you hissed.

He noticed that your hair appeared neater and that you had somehow cleaned the cum off your face,
presumably with one of the pairs of panties you had taken under the desk with you. “I just thought I
could lend you a hand.”

“I am a fucking idiot,” you shouted and tossed the old soiled panties at him. “How could I think you
would have changed. I gave you so many chances to fucking apologize today because I heard you
try to do it on my date but you threw that in my face. You are a fucking asshole, Mr. Min! Yoojung
told me to stay away from you and I should have listened.” You ran your hands over your face and
sighed in an exaggerated way, “I am the biggest idiot on this planet, holy hell. How I could ever
think you would have changed is beyond me. Why would I think you would apologize when you
can’t even acknowledge to someone else that I am worth something more than just sex?”

“I didn’t-.”

“No! Shut up. Just fucking stop talking,” you shrieked. “I can’t do this anymore, do you understand
that? I can’t take being around you anymore. Do you know how you make me feel about myself?”

From your earlier admission, calling yourself a whore, he had an idea of what you thought of
yourself. “I don’t-.”

“I said shut the fuck up! That’s all you think about me? After all this time? When you see me you
just think about me begging for your cock? Well I hope those memories are really vivid because that
was the last time you will see me anywhere around your dick again.” You stared at the ceiling and in
a quieter voice you whispered, as if you were only talking to yourself, “why did I think that you
showing up last night meant anything more than you didn’t want someone else to play with your
toy? Oh my fucking god I am so stupid.”

“You aren’t stupid,” Yoongi sputtered out, afraid that you would cut him off again.

You turned your eyes back to him and stomped towards him. “No, I am. If I was smarter I would
have never agreed to be your play toy. I would have told you back then to fuck off. If I wasn’t an
idiot I wouldn’t have come in here thinking that you had some kind of unresolved feelings about the
party. I wouldn’t have hoped for an apology from someone who doesn’t even care about me. You
are sick, you realize that right? What kind of person can say the things you do about someone
they’ve spent so much time with? Have I not earned any kind of respect from you? Fine, maybe you
don’t have feelings for me. Maybe you just see me as a fuck doll, as you so affectionately put it,” you
said bitterly, “but I thought maybe you would have the decency not to talk about me like that to
someone else. I should have seen that the only thing you cared about was that I didn’t fuck someone
else. You probably only care because you don’t want someone else to taint your fuck doll.”

“I-.”

“I didn’t fuck Jungkook last night, by the way. But, just so you know, if the chance arises now? I’m
sure as hell going to take it.”

Yoongi felt his stomach drop. At this point the day before he would have been sure it was just from
the idea of Jeon fucking you but something heavier weighed on his mind. You were rinsing yourself
of him and the filth he surrounded you in. You had finally realized what everyone else had been
telling Yoongi. You were too good for him and you deserved better than what he could offer you.
You were tossing him away. “I’m sorry,” Yoongi started but was cut off by a sharp slap across his
cheek. He rubbed his skin and stared at you, fully aware of the shine in your eyes, the telltale sign of
your impending tears.

“No,” you hissed. “You don’t get to apologize. We are done. I am so fucking done with you,” you
laughed viciously and stormed towards the door. “I’m leaving for the rest of the day, by the way.
You could do me that favor at least.” Yoongi blinked, dumbfounded as his cheek stung, and nodded.
Without another word you left his office and slammed the door behind you.

Yoongi stood still for a while. His hand slowly caressed his cheek and rubbed the sting away, but his
eyes stayed trained on the door. He had been discarded like the trash he was and the funny part about
it all was he couldn’t even blame you. He had tried to not lose himself in front of Jeon but had been
too weak. It was amazing how true his mother’s words had been. Love did make great men weak.

At some point he collapsed into his chair, your soiled panties still in one of his hands, and let his eyes
close. He had tried and failed. He couldn’t be the kind of person that deserved to be in your
presence. Sure, maybe it was a bit of self pity but he figured he could take a moment to feel sorry for
himself. After all, he had tried to be better, had tried to fight off his upbringing for your sake, and he
had lost. Perhaps Hoseok was right. Maybe he did need to focus on himself.

He lost himself in memories of Hoseok’s lecture, Yoojung’s tirade against him, Jeon’s attack, and
finally in your dismissal of him. The thing everyone agreed on was that he wasn’t a fit person to be
with you, let alone anyone else. He supposed that was the truth. Most men didn’t have to fight off the
need to attack when threatened, no matter who the victim was. Most men didn’t have to consider
who might be a mole for his mother. Most men didn’t have to have someone else spell out that he
had feelings for a woman he had been sleeping with for months. Everything awful about himself
seemed to come back to the company or the family, particularly his mother. He lived under her
thumb and it was suffocating. How was he supposed to ever dedicate a part of himself to anyone else
when he was at the mercy of her beck and calls. He could never be his own person, let alone a good
one, if he constantly had to live his life wondering how his decisions affected her and the company.

With a sigh he pulled out his phone and sent out a text to the only person he could trust with such a
message.

From: Yoongi 2:24 PM

Are you still interested in helping me better myself or whatever hippie bullshit you were spewing last
 night.

From: Hoseok 2:27 PM

If it came out like a hippie that was only because of the drinks. But yes. Of course. What did you
have in mind that you need my help for?

From: Yoongi 2:29 PM

I want to destroy my family.

Chapter End Notes

Originally posted on Tumblr by ellieljade as Chapter 05

 Chapter 06
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“I still don’t understand why you slept with him again,” Yoojung said without trying to hide her
judgment. It had been two weeks since you had last spoken to Mr. Min but that didn’t keep Yoojung
from bringing up how awful he was at every chance she got.

“Well we didn’t sleep together,” you started but Yoojung slammed her glass onto the bar top in rage.

“Did he cum?”

“Yes.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah.”

“So why the hell are you trying to argue semantics with me? Maybe his penis never met your
vagina,” she said and you scrunched up your face in disgust, “but that still counts. Besides you
shouldn’t even be talking to him.” The bartender noticed Yoojung’s empty glass and moved to fill it
but, having caught the tail end of your conversation, he frowned slightly, no doubt silently judging
the two of you, and shook his head before walking away.

“We had unfinished business,” you shrugged but even you didn’t buy your excuse.

Yoojung scoffed and took another sip of her liquor, her third glass of the night, before she turned
away from you, swivelling on her stool, to lean her back against the bar and scout out the crowd.
“There is nothing that he has to say that is worth a damn second of your time. Trust me. He just
thinks you’re easy.”

You kept your back to the crowd and chose to face the wall of liquor behind the bartender. “Maybe I
am,” you muttered and hoped she couldn’t hear you over the roar of the crowd and the thumping
bass of the music.

Of course, as always, Yoojung was a step ahead of you and she swivelled back around in her chair
so quick that part of her drink sloshed out of her glass and landed on the floor. She ignored it in order
to stare at you with narrowed eyes. “See? This is why he is terrible for you. You are not easy. You
are not a slut or a whore or whatever else he told you that you were. And even if you were? You
would still be too good for him. You could fuck every man in this bar and it doesn’t change your
worth as a person. No one, and especially no man, gets to tell you how much you are worth. And
they definitely don’t get to base it on how many people you have slept with. Look at me,” Yoojung
said and hit her chest, “I’ve had my fill of men and I’m better than most of the scummy dicks in this
bar. No one’s value comes from their sex life. And if there is one person out there so fucked up that
he doesn’t get to dictate anyone’s value it is Mr. Min.”

“What do you mean, ‘so fucked up’?” You studied her over your glass but she didn’t return your
stare and chose to take a large sip of her drink to buy time.

“What’s there to mean? He’s an asshole. That’s enough to make that judgment,” she said quickly and
you got the impression that she wasn’t being entirely honest but she was also downing her drinks at
twice the pace you were. Who were you to judge her for her rushed speech while drunk? “I don’t
even know why he’s on your mind at all when you have Jungkook falling over himself to get close
to you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that crept across your face. “He’s very sweet,” you agreed and sipped on
your drink to avoid her eyes.

“So what’s going on there, hmm? You had a great first date, minus the intrusion from ass face, so?”

“So what?” You gave her the most innocent look you could manage while you twisted the napkin
under your drink.

“So what?” She scoffed and rolled her eyes at your games. “Has he asked you on another date? If he
hasn’t you should just take initiative and do it yourself. Don’t wait for that kid to grow a pair of balls
and do it.”

“He already asked me,” you said nonchalantly and shrugged but your smile gave away your
excitement.

“Oh? And you weren’t going to tell me? That’s fine. That’s cool. See if I let you know the next time
I start dating someone.”

“We aren’t dating,” you quickly corrected her. “We’re just going on dates.”

Yoojung rolled her eyes, “the only reason you are fighting this at all is because you are so hung up
on Mr. Min and whatever gold dick of God he apparently is carrying in between his legs.”

“Jesus, Yoojung,” you muttered, embarrassed by her crassness.

“All I’m saying is Jungkook is a good guy who would clearly treat you better than a certain douche
nozzle.” You shot her a pointed look and she raised her hands in defeat. “That's all I'm saying.”

“He is a very sweet guy, I admit that. But I'm just going to take it date by date. I'm not even sure we
could actually be serious about each other. I mean he's like five years younger than me! What do we
even have in common?”

“What did you have in common with Mr. McAssface?”

“Yoojung, you can stop calling him all those names. I get your point. And sure, maybe you're right
but I think I'm just going to take things slow with him. Just have some fun.”

Yoojung sighed loudly, “see, this is what he's done to you. He's messed you up so badly that you
can't even see something good standing right before your eyes.”

You quirked an eyebrow up at that. “You certainly seem to have had a change of tune. Before the
party you were telling me to not get too involved with Jungkook if I wasn't sure that I wanted to be
with him long term. What's changed your mind?”

She paused and you could have sworn you saw her frown and her brows crease when she looked
away from you. “I just had a change of heart I guess,” she mumbled and busied herself by looking
around the bar. Anywhere but at you. “My point is there is nothing wrong with a little casual sex at
least. What’s it going to hurt? Jungkook is a big boy, he clearly knows the risks, so why shouldn’t
you get some while you can. My advice to you would be to ignore Mr. Min completely and have
fun. If Jungkook is willing then who am I to stop you from hitting that?”

When she finally turned to look at you her eyes drifted past your face and followed the crowd of
people walking in the bar. All night she had spent more time watching the crowd than looking at
you, seemingly scanning faces every time she felt a gust of wind come from the open doors that led
to the snowy outside. She had insisted on taking you to a new bar a couple of weeks after your last
disastrous encounter with Mr. Min in his office. She swore it served the best drinks in the city and,
while your drink was nice, it was certainly not the best that you had ever had. The drinks were
expensive, the music was dated, the interior appeared to be almost all wood paneling, and it was so
packed that it had been nearly impossible for the two of you to find seats before Yoojung flirted with
two men in order to get their stools at the bar. You had pointed out two guys leaving towards the
back of the building but she had merely shrugged you off, seemingly insistent on getting the two
seats occupied by the mystery men. After the third time she shot her head up from her drink when a
gust of frigid air swept through the building you figured the seats had been purposely selected for
their proximity to, and view of, the door but you hadn’t the faintest idea why.

“Why are we here, Yoojung?”

“What do you mean,” she asked and turned her attention back to you. “The drinks here are the best.”

“The drinks here are overpriced and you know it,” you said with a pointed look.

“Say it a little louder why don’t you,” Yoojung scoffed. “I don’t think Wayne heard you insult his
bar.”

“Who the fuck is Wayne,” you asked and Yoojung merely nodded lazily towards the bartender. You
stared at the man at the other end of the bar top for a second before you returned your eyes to
Yoojung. “His name isn’t Wayne and, I’m guessing, you don’t even know what it is. So what are we
doing here? Why couldn’t we go to our usual place?”

Yoojung shrugged and took another sip of her drink. “I just wanted to try someplace new. Is that so
bad?” The door opened again, a frigid gust of wind swept around you and you curled your shoulders
into yourself in a futile attempt to retain any body heat. Yoojung’s eyes were once again trained on
the door but they widened before she quickly turned her head away from the entrance and a
mischievous grin appeared on her face. You raised an eyebrow and turned to look towards the door
yourself, curious to what startled her and prompted such a reaction, but before you could swivel
more than a quarter of the way around she had gripped your arm and turned you violently back
towards the table. “Drink,” she commanded in a hiss.

“Why should I,” you questioned and noticed the grin spread across her face as the two men sitting
next to you pulled away from the bar and left their seats unattended.

“Just do it,” she squeaked, excitement overtaking her.

“Not until you tell me who is here that has you so giddy. Is this why you got so dressed up and
wanted to come here,” you asked, fully intent on being stubborn but your voice still dropped to a
whisper as you leaned into her. She may have been keeping something from you but Girl’s Code
dictated that you be a respectable winglady for the night.

“I am not dressed up,” she hissed. You looked her over slowly and then stared at her with a pointed
look. She had worn a dress, something she rarely wore outside of functions that demanded it, and
had chosen one that was short even by your standards. She had even been late meeting you at the
lousy bar because she had spent so long on her makeup and hair, something she confessed by her
own admission. And more than once that night men had stopped by and offered to buy her a drink,
all while blatantly staring down her exposed cleavage, but she had merely sent them away as quickly
as she possibly could. “Okay, fine,” she snapped and leaned in closer to you. “Yes, there is someone
here and yes, I did want to come here in case he would be here. But I refuse to admit that I dressed
up any particular way just for a man. Maybe I just wanted to look my best. Maybe it has nothing to
do with making sure he gets an eyeful so that he is all over me for the night and then I can send him
home to masturbate by himself while he thinks about how great I looked.”

You held your drink up to your lips but raised an eyebrow at her. “You want for him to flirt with you
all night and then you aren’t even going to leave with him? You wanted to go to this shitty bar just to
ruin his night like that? Must be some kind of asshole,” you said with an impressed tone.

“You have no idea,” she mumbled but her eyes drifted past you to the man who had taken the stool
next to you. She immediately pulled herself away from your huddle and sipped her drink as if she
was completely unaware of the mystery man’s proximity. You followed her lead and tried to be as
nonchalant about the entire thing as she was but you couldn’t help but sneak a peek at the man who
had sat next to you.

He had his head tilted towards the bar top, his phone illuminated and his fingers busily scrolling
through messages, and you decided to take the opportunity to stare at him a bit more brazenly. His
profile was sharp, his hair still contained snowflakes that were quickly melting, and his dark peacoat
displayed the same white flecks on his shoulders. He looked like a handsome man, at least from what
you could tell from his profile, and he appeared to be relatively close to your age but all of your
thoughts vanished quickly when you noticed his lips quirk into a smile. Your eyes widened and you
quickly looked down at your glass but were acutely aware of the way Yoojung had still not turned
her attention towards the stranger.

“What’ll it be?” The bartender, who was surely not named Wayne, asked the man next to you.

“Whiskey. Straight up, please,” he answered and within a minute the bartender had set the requested
drink in front of him. He tapped his fingers on the side of his glass for a moment before you heard
him chuckle lowly and, out of the corner of your eye, watched him shake his head slowly. “So are
we just going to pretend that we don’t see each other all night?” He asked the question without
turning his attention away from his drink.

You bristled, unaware of where his question was directed, but Yoojung responded in her own cold
tone, as if she was bored out of her mind. “That would be perfectly fine with me.” She stubbornly
kept her eyes towards the wall of liquor bottles behind the bartender.

“You want me to pretend you aren’t here when you look like that?” He chuckled and took a sip of
his drink but didn't lift his eyes to look at her. “That’s going to be awfully difficult,” he said with a
sigh and a small shake of his head.

“I think you’ll manage,” Yoojung responded flatly and sighed. You couldn’t help but smirk at her
attitude. Whatever this man had done had clearly annoyed or angered Yoojung to no end and she
was determined to let him know how disinterested she was in him, though you suspected there was
more than a small part of her that wanted nothing more than to take your spot next to him and spend
the night trading flirtatious quips and coy smiles. Your eyes followed the conversation back and
forth, like a spectator at a tennis match, as you sat quietly and awkwardly between the two and
nursed your drink.

“You aren’t even going to introduce me to your friend then? She looks quite lost,” he said but kept
his gaze on his drink.

You weren’t entirely sure how he had even noticed you considering his eyes had never turned your
way but before you could open your mouth to defend yourself Yoojung had spoken up, her voice a
bit more brash than it had been before. “As if you don’t know who she is,” she hissed.
He finally turned at that and directed his attention towards Yoojung with only a cursory glance at
you. His brows were furrowed and the blank look on his face found it’s way to his voice, “I have
never seen her before in my life.”

You tried to agree with him but once again Yoojung interjected her own thoughts. It was almost as
if, other than acknowledging your existence, neither was interested in your presence. Yoojung,
apparently pleased that he had been the first to turn to face her, swivelled on her stool to return his
gaze with a victorious smirk across her lips. “Oh but you do,” she sneered.

“I assure you that I don’t,” he scoffed.

“You don’t recognize the woman you so casually referred to as ‘fuck doll’? Just how many women
do you two call that?”

Your eyes widened at that and you sat up a bit straighter on your stool, “wait. What?” There had
only been one man in your entire life who had referred to you by that name and Yoojung had just
been lecturing you for trying to give him a second chance.

“Holy shit,” the man muttered and suddenly his eyes were directly focused on you. They were
round, almost comically so, and his mouth had dropped.

“Holy shit indeed,” Yoojung mocked and her smug smile stretched further.

“Uh,” you said and turned towards Yoojung, brows furrowed, and frown firmly etched on your face.
“Yoojung, I don’t think I’ve ever met this man before.”

Her smirk faltered and suddenly her eyes were turned away from the man and back to you. “What?”

“I don’t recognize him at all. What is going on?”

“Oh shit,” Yoojung mumbled. She bit her bottom lip and grabbed your hand to squeeze it in what
you assumed was a silent apology.

“My name is Jung Hoseok,” the man interrupted and when you turned towards him he held out his
hand in greeting but couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes.
You slipped your hand from Yoojung, took his in your own, and shook it slowly as you introduced
yourself but Yoojung hissed, “don’t be so nice to him.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“He’s Mr. Min’s friend,” Yoojung said with a heavy tone.

Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly as you tried to think of what to say. Eventually you settled
with a forced, “oh. Well any friend of Mr. Min’s is a friend of ours.”

“Speak for yourself,” Yoojung scoffed and downed the rest of her drink.

Mr. Min had friends? You weren't sure what you were more upset about, an asshole like him having
companions or the fact that after months of sleeping with him you knew so little about him that you
hadn't the faintest idea of who this man was and yet Yoojung did. You studied Hoseok a bit longer,
willing some kind of memory to surface that would make you feel like maybe you knew a fraction
about the man you had been sleeping with, but nothing came to mind. You were positive you had
never seen his face, heard his name, or knew a thing about him. A furious ball of self hatred settled in
the pit of your stomach. All those months, all those hours spent with him inside of your body, doing
some of the most intimate, sometimes degrading, things you had ever done with a man and yet you
knew absolutely nothing about his life. You knew that logically you should be angry at Mr. Min,
after all you had tried to get closer to him, tried to involve yourself in his life and he had been the one
to keep you at a distance, yet a loud voice in your head kept screaming that you did this to yourself.
You agreed to his terms and when you knew you were in over your head you kept going, never once
acting on your impulse to end the agreement until you were well and truly broken. You had never
thought of yourself as weak until you met him.

“It's nice to meet you,” Hoseok said and managed to bring his eyes to meet your own. “Please don't
hold the fact that he's my friend against me,” he chuckled but it was faint and forced. He rubbed the
back of his neck, swallowed a large gulp of his drink, and hissed at the burn before turning back
towards the two of you with a nervous smile.

“You sure about that? You didn't mind making excuses for him the other night,” Yoojung sneered.

“The other night?”

“I ran into him and Mr. Min when I was here with Minsung and some friends. This guy,” she said
and pointed a finger at Hoseok, “was defending that asshole over what he did to you. He was
making excuses for him left and right!”

You could feel your face heat with the realization that this stranger not only knew about you but was
also privy to what had happened at the company party. For all you knew he had been told everything
that had ever happened between the two of you. After all, Mr. Min seemed pretty keen on bragging
about his sexual exploits with you to Jungkook so it stood to reason that he would only be more
forthcoming with his friends. That raised the question of just how many people knew about your
time with Mr. Min.

“There's a difference between explanations and excuses,” Hoseok corrected.

“Oh really? Please enlighten me then, Mr. Brainiac,” Yoojung quipped. It wasn't her best insult,
almost more like a backhanded compliment really, but she was four drinks in for the night and hadn't
eaten dinner to ensure that she could fit into her scandalous dress so she let it slide and hoped the acid
in her voice conveyed her message better.

“All I was doing was trying to explain why he acts that way. I never said I condoned it,” he said
matter of factly then turned to you with an apologetic look. “Which I don't, by the way. He may be
my friend but that doesn't mean I think he was right. And for your information,” Hoseok started and
turned back to Yoojung, “explaining why someone would act a certain way is completely different
than excusing his behavior. Facts matter.”

“Facts matter,” Yoojung mocked. “What are you? A professor? A historian? A journalist?”

“Actually, yes, I am. I'm a journalist,” he said and sat a little taller in his seat. Yoojung narrowed her
eyes, her suspicion pronounced on her face and he grinned cheekily. “I’m a staff journalist. I mean, I
don’t cover any of the big stories or anything. Mostly petty theft, feel good stories, occasional
celebrity gossip,” he muttered the last part and rubbed the back of his neck.

“So you’re a wannabe journalist then,” Yoojung sneered.

“My title is staff journalist. The word is right there.” His voice sounded harsh but the way he smiled
when he said it and laughed afterwards indicated he wasn’t at all offended. You wondered if, rather
than Yoojung playing him for the night, he was, in fact, enjoying their banter. “We can’t all start out
as Joseph Pulitzer.”
“So you settled for the role of Perez Hilton?”

Hoseok’s smile turned into a smirk as he raised his glass to Yoojung. “Fair point. And I suppose you
are happy doing your clerical duties for the Mins? Surely you must have dreamed about making
spreadsheets and filing papers when you were a little girl. It’s great to see you’ve already hit your
goals. You’re a real inspiration for all of us who haven’t made it to ours yet,” he said sarcastically.

You couldn’t help but giggle. You had known Yoojung for months, since you started working at the
company, and you had never seen someone give back as good as they got with her. It was a shame
that Hoseok was friends with Mr. Min. He seemed, otherwise, like a nice man.

For the rest of the night they seemed to dance around the subject of Mr. Min. It felt a bit like they did
it specifically for your benefit, both unwilling to bring up the subject first and instead choosing to
ignore the fact that the awkward proverbial elephant was still very much in the room. You spent most
of the time listening to their banter and wondering if, despite how readily Yoojung denied it, they
would leave together that night until finally someone missed a step in their careful dance.

“You know, I haven’t drank this much since Yoongi’s dad died,” Hoseok laughed and ordered
another drink. You had lost count of how many the two of them had shared. You had kept your total
to a moderate three, two of which were purchased by Hoseok himself, but the other two seemed to
be in a silent competition with each other. Neither one wanting to admit they had long past reached
their limit.

“Who is Yoongi?” You had asked the question innocently but it was clear that something was wrong
with it. Hoseok had bristled, nearly dropped his glass as the bartender handed it to him, and Yoojung
cleared her throat before she busied herself with finishing her drink.

“Oh. That’s right. You guys keep calling him Mr. Min,” Hoseok mumbled.

Yoongi was his name? That familiar ball of self hatred rolled in your gut. It was like a slap in the face
hearing his name, finally, after months of sleeping with him. Somehow it hurt even worse to learn it
from someone else and after seeing Yoojung’s reaction it became clear that she knew it too. “Oh. I
never knew his name.”

“What?” Yoojung turned her full attention to you.

You shrugged and hoped that if it didn’t fool Yoojung it would at least work on Hoseok. “It isn’t a
big deal. We just never talked about it.”

“You never talked about it? It’s his fucking name,” Yoojung nearly shouted.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Hoseok said and rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t realize Yoongi kept you at
such a distance, although I guess I’m not surprised.”

“So his dad is dead?” You couldn’t listen to them bicker about him again or, worse, dance around
the topic of him as if they didn’t know what had happened.

“He had a stroke a few months ago. After a bit of a power struggle Yoongi took over the company in
his place.” You nodded slowly and looked down at your drink, unsure of what to feel or how to
continue the conversation. “Don’t worry,” Hoseok said and leaned in to nudge you with his
shoulder, “his dad was a pretty awful guy. No one misses him. Yoongi’s whole family is pretty
fucked up.”

“That is not an excuse for how he acts,” Yoojung hissed.

Hoseok held up his hands in his defense. “I didn’t say it was. All I did was tell her the facts. They’re
a pretty messed up bunch of people. Stating facts doesn’t mean I think what he did was right or that I
support him doing it.”

“You would stand up for him,” Yoojung scoffed. “Why not just admit that he’s an asshole? Does it
hurt your feelings to hear that since he’s your friend?”

“He is! Is that what you want to hear? He’s a huge asshole. He’s one of the biggest ones I have ever
met, his parents might be the only people who are worse. And, for your information,” Hoseok
snapped back, once again the both of them talking around you as if you weren’t even there, “I am
nothing like him. I know you think you have me pegged because of the other night but I'm nothing
like him.”

“You called her a fuck doll. That makes you just as bad,” she yelled and slammed a hand down on
the bar top.

You watched as Hoseok’s cheeks turned red, his mouth etched in a frown, and his eyes turned
towards you. “I am sorry about that. He never told me your name or anything about you other than
that you were his,” he started but his voice fell when he realized he would just say it again.

He never even told his friend your name. You let that settle in for a moment, let the burn of your
shame seep through your chest and settle in your stomach before you nodded slowly. “It's okay. It's
not your fault,” you whispered and the shame only grew with how weak you sounded compared to
the other two. He couldn't even be bothered to tell Hoseok, who apparently knew him and his family
so well, a single thing about you other than that you were willing to debase yourself for him at a
moment's notice. Remembering that you had been willing to give him another chance the last time
you had been in his office, the fact that you would have settled for an apology from a man who
merely referred to you as his ‘fuck doll’ to anyone he mentioned you to, made you feel like an idiot.
Perhaps you were.

“No. It's not okay. I didn't consider the fact that you were a real person, not just some faceless body.
I truly am sorry,” Hoseok said and raised his hand as if he intended on rubbing your shoulder but let
it fall back to his lap after having thought better of it. His voice turned serious, perhaps even solemn,
and his brows furrowed while he talked. “I've been friends with Yoongi my entire life. We were
practically raised together for fuck’s sake. He's such a,” he said and paused as he considered his
choice of words, “strong personality that I lose myself a bit around him. I've made some pretty
terrible, absolutely awful, decisions because I let myself get wrapped up in him.” His eyes dropped to
his drink as he got lost in his thoughts. You were just about to say something but he cleared his throat
and looked back at you. “Forgive me if I am speaking out of turn here but I suspect that you know
what I mean about losing yourself in him. I'm not sure he realizes that he has that ability. He can
manipulate and convince people to do things they never thought they would. Truly terrible things
sometimes. Take it from me, you aren't the first person that has dealt with the feelings I suspect you
have right now. The guilt, self-hatred, humiliation, they are all things a lot of us have felt before. I
have felt them before because of him, too.”

“So, why are you still friends with him,” you asked in a soft voice. It appeared that Hoseok carried
an enormous weight on his shoulders and that it was somehow related to Mr. Min. It didn't make
sense to you why he would stick around if he felt the same things that you did. You didn't notice,
and neither did Hoseok, but Yoojung was enthralled in the story. She had leaned towards you in
order to get closer to Hoseok and kept her wide eyes trained on him.

Hoseok chuckled lowly and rested his head in one of his hands. “Because he's like a brother to me.
Do you have siblings? You take the good with the bad. He's harsh, he’s rude, and he can be the
biggest asshole you've ever met but there's another side to him. He can be truly kind and selfless to
the people he cares about. He doesn’t have many of those people in his life, people he cares about,
but if you are on the receiving end of his loyalty then you see that side of him. He would never admit
to this, and he doesn't know that I know, but he's been slipping money to my mother since he was a
kid. My mom is his family’s maid, you see, and she used to question where the money that appeared
in her coat pockets came from until I caught him doing it. He must've been, I don't know, maybe
nine or ten when I saw him do it. He would quietly put his allowance in her coat pocket while she
worked. I think he even sometimes took money from his parents under the guise of buying
something and ended up just putting it in my mom’s pockets. I never mentioned it to him. He still
does it, actually,” Hoseok said with a fond laugh. “At this point he has to know that we know he's
the anonymous benefactor who slips an envelope of money under the door every month. Sometimes,
when he goes to visit my mom, he just leaves the money on the coffee table. He has never once
complained about it. Never even hinted at it. My mom, of course, doesn't like taking the money but
the truth is that it has gotten us through a lot of hard times. In a lot of ways he looks after my mother
as if she were his own. Which I guess isn't saying all that much since his family is twisted. I'm sorry,
I've just been ranting about him and I'm sure you don't want to talk about him.”

You weren't entirely sure that was true but Yoojung interrupted. “If he's so fucking fantastic then
why did he bring a date to the party? Just to rub it in her face?”

“Yoojung,” you hissed but the mortification had already set in. It wasn't necessary for this stranger to
know every embarrassing detail of your time with Mr. Min.

“He brought a date with him?” Hoseok quirked a brow at that and hummed.

“Yes. Some statuesque blonde that he proceeded to fawn over.”

“Oh! That must be Matilda. She's an escort that he pays to attend events with him.” Hoseok nodded
slowly, “he hasn't bothered with her in some time. I guess he really was upset.”

Yoojung stiffened noticeably and shot you a look before she scoffed. “Matilda,” she said and
dragged out her name with a heavy accent. “It's not even a sexy name.”

“She seemed sexy enough,” you muttered and eyed the door. The truth was you just wanted to leave.
You had been thoroughly embarrassed and learned more about Mr. Min -- no, Yoongi -- in one
night, and from a stranger, than you had ever learned about him in the months you had slept with
him. The whole evening was bizarre and, as amusing as watching Hoseok and Yoojung attempt to
not flirt with each other in some kind of power struggle, it was uncomfortable.

“I wouldn't worry about Matilda,” Hoseok said nonchalantly and finished his drink. “Their
relationship is purely business. She accompanies him to events and he pays her for it. Nothing more
than that.”

The thing was that your relationship with him had been “purely business” as well. It was a practical
solution for him and yet there you were nursing the wounds of it.

When you bid your farewells to your drunken companions (only after Yoojung had assured you
thirty times that she was a big girl and could handle getting home herself) Hoseok had shook your
hand and left you with one parting piece of advice. “You deserve better.”

The next morning came much too quickly. Though you had kept your drinking in moderation it
didn’t stop a pounding headache from appearing as soon as you woke up. It was far too early for
your taste. You weren’t even sure if the sun had fully risen yet your roommate beat relentlessly
against your bedroom door. “Wake the fuck up,” she groaned and added a whiny, “please.”
“What do you want,” you snapped and rubbed your eyes.

As soon as she heard your voice she threw your door open. “Are you kidding me? Have you not
heard me all this time?” You shot her an annoyed look but she didn’t wait for your reply, “Someone
is here to see you.”

“What? No one is here to see me,” you mumbled and buried your face back in your pillow. Your
roommate, Yeona, stomped towards your bed and every beat of her feet pounded and reverberated in
your foggy head. She tossed your blankets off and exposed you to the cold air in the apartment.
“What is your problem, Yeona?” You hissed at her with a scowl and reached for the blankets.

“I have been banging on your door for damn near five minutes now. I can’t believe you didn’t hear
her incessant knocking and ringing that damn doorbell,” she hissed back at you and waited for you to
move. You remained stubborn and folded in on yourself to retain any bit of warmth that you could.
“Someone is here to see you. Now get up and go so I can go back to sleep!” Her voice was shrill and
left little room for compromise

You stumbled out of your bed with your throbbing head in your hands and headed towards the
entrance of the apartment until you heard a sound coming from behind you in your living room. You
turned immediately at the sound of someone clearing their throat only to see Mrs. Min standing in
front of your couch. Your eyes snapped fully open and you were suddenly entirely aware of your
ridiculous pajamas, ratty and torn with age and wear, while she looked the image of class at not even
five in the morning. Clutched in her hands was a black bag and, on her face, a charming smile,
something disarming and saccharine about it.

“It’s nice to see you again,” she hummed and her smile stretched widely across her face. You opened
and closed your mouth like a fish as you tried to fathom how to respond to the woman who owned
the company you worked for inexplicably standing in your apartment so early in the morning.
“Please, sit down,” she directed and made herself at home on your lumpy couch.

“Yes. Right,” you muttered and nodded and sat beside her.

She shifted uncomfortably as she stared you down but her smile only faltered for a moment,
something you missed entirely. “How well do you know my son?” Her voice was warm but the
question came out harsh.

“Mr. Min is a great boss,” you said and forced your mouth into a gentle smile. “He’s always-.”

“I didn’t ask how he was as a boss,” his mother interrupted and focused her gaze at you. “I asked
how well do you know Yoongi?”

Just hearing his name, his actual name and not just his family one, jarred you. Sure, Hoseok had let it
slip the night before but it still felt like she was poking at a fresh wound. You winced and hoped it
wasn’t noticeable. “I don’t know him all that well, ma’am.”

“Is that so?” Her smile twisted a little wider and you couldn’t help the way your heart thumped
faster, as if you were prey that had only just realized it had fallen in a trap. “I’ve looked through your
records at our company. You’re a bright girl with a future ahead of you. I can see that even just in
your supervisor’s notes in your file.”

She was wrong. You knew she had to be wrong. You hadn’t excelled at work, had barely managed
to scrape by without being reprimanded or outright fired for poor performance (something you had
begun to think Yoongi might have been responsible for) but you weren’t sure why she was under the
wrong impression. It crossed your mind briefly that Hoseok had called Yoongi’s whole family
twisted and that meant his mother was very much a part of it. Perhaps she knew about your poor
work performance and was lying. You stared at the beautiful woman, her own eyes still trained on
you, and your chest tightened with an anxious knot. After all, Hoseok was a stranger you had only
met the night before and, to be fair, he had spent most of the evening in an awkward dance with
Yoojung as they both tried to avoid the topic of Yoongi altogether. He hadn’t exactly been
forthcoming with information, not that you had asked him all the questions you had, and you
hesitated to entrust so much confidence in him.

“Oh,” you finally said in a hushed voice. “That’s very kind of them.”

“I thought so too,” she chuckled softly and something about the quietness of her laughs felt like you
weren’t meant to understand the joke. “I’m sure Yoongi had something to do with it.”

You straightened quickly in your seat and rushed out a frantic, “I don’t think he even would notice
what's in my file. We really aren’t that close.”

“You’re close enough to fuck him,” she said and cocked her head to the side. “Isn’t that right?” Your
throat clenched, your breath stopped, and your eyes widened but you didn’t have time to even dream
what kind of an answer you would give her. “I’m curious. How much do you know about my son?”

“I don’t-we aren’t-I haven’t,” you stuttered and clutched the fabric of your pajama pants. You
wished you could be nearly anywhere else. Being so close to Mrs. Min in such a frazzled and
unprepared state while she was the picture of poised perfection was unnerving. Her questions were
too direct for you to hide behind any kind of superfluous, evasive answers. Her mouth spread into a
tight and amused smile, one that you had seen Yoongi make before when he felt victorious, and your
throat ran dry. It didn’t feel like admitting your sexual relationship to her was merely a confession to
a mother about the obscene nature of her son’s sex life. The way she phrased her questions, the cold
look in her eyes, and her reserved expression told you that she wasn’t waiting for your admission.
She already knew what she needed to, she only wanted you to admit it but you had no idea why.
You felt trapped.

“You don’t know him well, do you?”

You swallowed a thick lump in your throat and shook your head. “No. I don’t.”

“I see,” she sighed. “Let me tell you about Yoongi. He’s always been quite the handful, even as a
child. He’s never been loyal to our family. I suspect you might have experienced some of that
ambivalence of his at some point.” She paused just long enough to let your shame settle in before she
continued. “I don’t like lying to you. You aren’t excelling at work like i said earlier. In fact, you are
out of your depth at the company, are you not? Your file is,” she chuckled before leveling her tone
and gaze, “it’s quite thick with requests for you to be fired.”

Your eyes widened before you could think to control them. It wasn’t a shock to hear that she had
been lying earlier, you knew your supervisor’s hadn’t been praising you, but to hear that requests for
your termination had been made, and that they had been numerous, was not comforting.

“I have to say, you don’t look like the kind of woman who would resort to sleeping with her boss to
save her job. Though I suppose you don’t have many options.”

“Excuse me? That’s not why-.”

“I’m not judging you, dear. Some of us were gifted with intelligence and talent, others have to use
the means they have at their disposal.” You opened your mouth to fight her assumption but she
continued speaking as if she hadn’t noticed. “Surely you understand that that particular method will
only work for so long. Eventually your looks will fade or the wrong person will take advantage of
your,” she paused while she considered her words, “services. You can’t be so foolish as to think that
sleeping your way to the top will actually get you there. I’m here to offer you another way.”

“But I wasn’t sleeping with him to get ahead,” you blurted out, full of indignation at her assumption.

Her forehead wrinkled before she cocked an eyebrow. “Then you truly are more foolish than I
thought. Surely you couldn’t have expected Yoongi to have wanted a relationship of some kind with
you,” she said with a guffaw. You pursed your lips and, despite your best efforts, let your eyes fall to
your lap. Her laughter only grew louder before she wiped at the corners of her eyes as if she was
close to tears. “Foolish girl,” she sighed when she finally controlled her hysterics. “Then perhaps you
will be more interested in my offer than I assumed. After all, who doesn’t love revenge?”

“Revenge?”

“You and my son have been distant for a few weeks, have you not? Something had to have
happened to cause that.”

“How do you know that?”

Her lips twisted into an amused smirk. “I have my sources, dear. The point is, that if I know my son,
he likely did something to anger or even shame you. Wouldn’t revenge feel good? Wouldn’t it be
nice to feel powerful for once?” She paused to let her eyes dance around your small living room, full
of tattered furniture that had been handed down to you and your roommate over your college years.
“I can offer you a better life than whatever this one is.”

A part of you was offended. The audacity of a woman who was drowning in money looking down
on the meager life you and Yeona had scrapped together was at once humiliating and infuriating.
What did she know of sacrifice? She had likely never been in a position to choose between paying
the electric bill or making that month’s payment on a student loan and yet she had no qualms with
judging your life. At the same time you were intrigued. It was no surprise to you to feel your heart
rate quicken with the mention of a possibility of revenge against Yoongi but you didn’t imagine that
you would actually consider it. “What did you have in mind?”

Her lips quirked into a smirk, one that was pleased, before she continued. “I suspect that Yoongi is
sabotaging the company. I’m not sure how but his work performance has not been satisfactory, the
company is suffering, and he seems less than enthused about correcting it.”

“That doesn’t really sound like Yoongi. He has always seemed to put the company’s interest first,”
you countered.

“Does he now? And how well do you know him again?” Her tone was harsh and her pointed look
told you she didn’t expect you to answer. “Perhaps you need to understand my son a little more. I’m
not sure what impression he gave you during the course of your,” she paused to consider her words
then let them fall without hiding her disgust, “activities together but you don’t seem to understand the
kind of man he is.” Without waiting for a response from you she reached into her black bag and
pulled out a folder before thrusting it into your lap.

You stared at her for a moment longer then opened the folder with a marked degree of apprehension.
You weren’t sure what you were going to find inside of it. Perhaps she was right and the guy you
had been fantasizing about for months was actually a worse person than you had imagined. That
wasn’t an appealing thought. You had liked to believe that you knew him well enough to justify
sleeping with him but it was becoming ever more apparent that you didn’t know a single thing about
him. It threw into question why you had been so enamoured with him in the first place. He was a
mystery and perhaps that was the draw of him. Learning more about him from Hoseok and Yoongi’s
own mother could ruin the entire aura of him that drew you in to begin with.

The first page of the folder contained a picture of a woman you had never seen before. Next to her
photograph was a brief biography of her including her name, age, occupation, address, and, a
particular detail that caught your eye, a date next to the title of “Date of Termination.” You looked
back at Mrs. Min with wide eyes. “What is this?”

“That is the mother of Yoongi’s child.”

If your eyes were wide before then it felt like they absolutely blew out of your head. “What? His
child?” Your voice came out more of a squeak than a solid question.

“He met her in college. They appear to have had a night together that resulted in a pregnancy.”

“Yoongi is a dad?” Your mind was running with questions of how you could’ve missed something
so huge over the course of your time with him. You hadn’t seen any photographs of a child, any toys
in his car, no talks of play dates or birthdays.

“Oh good heavens no,” she cackled. “Could you imagine him as a father? No no no. He did the
sensible thing and paid the woman to have an abortion.”

“Oh,” you breathed out. As much as you couldn’t imagine Yoongi as a father you hadn’t expected
him to resort to such immoral activities. It wasn’t that you had an issue with abortion, it was the fact
that he chose to pay a woman to get one. It called into question whether she would have agreed to
one without the money. Was she pressured into it? Had he, in a sense, forced an abortion on a
woman to make his life easier?

You turned the page in the folder, unable to look at the woman’s photograph any longer, only to find
an image of a wreck of some kind. A nice black car was parked in the middle of an intersection at an
odd angle. The nose of the car was bent in, the windshield was shattered, and finally your eyes
landed on the lump of clothes and blood that you eventually registered was a human body. “Oh my
god,” you gasped and covered the photo immediately with your hand.

His mother leaned in to see what you were looking at and let out a long sigh. “Oh yes. That,” she
said with a disappointed tone. “That was a messy affair. Yoongi created quite the dilemma for his
father and me with that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Some old man walked out in front of a car Yoongi was driving and because his friend, Hoseok,
panicked and called the cops we had a bit of a mess to clean up.”

“Hoseok?”

“Yes, Jung Hoseok. He’s a friend of Yoongi’s, I can’t fathom why,” she said with another
disappointed sigh. “He decided to lose his head and call the cops but my husband and I were
eventually able to keep everything quiet. It took a bit of convincing because of the fact that the boys
were underage and drunk. The chief sure used that bit of information to secure himself more money.”

Your eyes danced around the room as you tried to take in the information she had just given you.
“Was the man okay?”

“Who, dear?”
“The man they hit. Was he okay?”

She sniggered and tried to hide the sound behind the back of her hand. “Oh good heavens no.
Yoongi was apparently speeding when he hit the old fool. He died before the cops ever arrived. If
Hoseok hadn’t called the police then the two of them could’ve just gotten into the car and drove
away. Well, as far as the car would’ve allowed them to go after a hit like that,” she laughed.

She laughed far too much for your liking, especially considering the topic. A man had died because
her son and his friend had went on a drunken joyride and she had the audacity to laugh about it. “So
you paid the police off? To keep Yoongi out of jail?”

She apparently heard the judgment in your voice because her snickering died down until only a smile
remained. “Could you imagine what that would look like in the press? The teenage son of the Min
family killed a man because he drove while under the influence? The money we paid was well worth
it.” Your mouth was agape as you stared at her, giving her a look of complete confusion. Her
concern hadn’t even been for protecting her young son, something that while immoral would at least
be somewhat understandable or relatable, it was for the good of the company, the family name, and
saving the family from bad press. A man had died and she had been concerned with what the media
would say. “And before you think I’m some kind of cruel and uncaring woman let me remind you
that covering that up also saved that friend of my son’s from jail time too. We had to pay extra for
that. It was quite charitable actually but we couldn’t let him take the fall and possibly implicate
Yoongi.”

You closed the folder, unwilling to hear any more about Yoongi’s past. It was all too much and it felt
like you were drowning, like you were barely able to keep above the surface. You had let that man
touch you, had let him do things to you that you had never let a man do before, had given him access
to you in ways other, more deserving, men had never had a chance at and yet you were reminded,
yet again, that you really knew nothing about him. You had fallen for his smile, his witty jokes, his
lithe fingers, and his gruff voice in your ear but hadn’t the faintest idea of who he really was. The
realization made you feel foolish. Perhaps you were, in fact, a fool. There had been nothing of
substance about Yoongi that you could cling to to try and fight these new accusations. You had no
choice but to believe her because there was nothing in your brief relationship with him that
contradicted what she had laid in front of you.

“Why are you telling me this?” Your voice came out as more of a whisper. Your eyes still danced
around the room, flickered across her face before falling back to your own lap, unable to fully take
your attention away from the folder in your lap. “Isn’t giving me this information dangerous? Why
do you trust me with this?”

“And what are you going to do with it, dear? Take it to the police? The media? Who would believe
you? You’re merely a lowly worker who barely makes enough to afford to live. Look around you.
You live in squalor. What lawyer can you afford to represent you if I take you to court for
defamation? Not to mention it is common knowledge that you have been sleeping with my son and,
from what I hear, things have turned sour. It’s not uncommon for some down and out trollop like
yourself to try to take down a powerful man when he doesn’t find the sex worth lowering himself to
your class for some kind of ill-fated and delusional prospect of a relationship.”

“Excuse me? A trollop?” Your fingers wrapped around the edges of the folder and crinkled the
corner in your hands as you turned a glare towards her. “That is hardly true.”

“Whatever makes you feel better at night, dear. Far be it for me to dispute however you view your
escapade with my son. I’m not here to argue with you and I’m certainly not here to coddle you while
you come to terms with your actions. I only want to know if you are interested in revenge. I would
need you to stay close to my son. Far be it for me to suggest you continue sleeping with him, it’s
your body so do with it as you like, but I suspect you might be the only person capable of getting
close enough to my son to figure out what his twisted, little mind is working up.”

“And why’s that? Yoongi and I don’t have a relationship outside of sex. He won’t just open up to
me.”

“Is that so?” She let the question hang in the air, didn’t offer anything to counter or confirm your
assumption, but rather let her thoughts go unsaid. “How likely do you think it is that you will be
promoted on your own, what with that company file full of requests for your termination? Surely you
don’t want to stay in your position the rest of your life. I’m sure you didn’t dream of filing papers and
answering phones when you were a little girl. I can offer you something Yoongi can’t. I can offer
you protection and prospects without you having to sell your body to get ahead. All I’m asking is for
a little mutual satisfaction. What’s that saying? You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours? Is that
it?” She didn’t wait for you to respond and stood from the couch. She wiped her dress, as if the
couch had been too dirty for her liking, before she eyed you again. “Why don’t you think about it?
There is a number written on the inside of that folder, that’s where you can reach me. Give me a call
when you realize that this is the best chance you have.” With that she passed you and saw herself out
of the apartment. She left you alone in your living room, in ratty and torn pajamas, clutching a folder
that not only decimated any notions you had about Yoongi but also threw your own self worth into
question. And the truly terrible thing was that as she left, the only thing running through your mind
was that she was right. Her offer might be your best and only chance at achieving a life better than
you had.

You hadn’t been able to get back to sleep after Mrs. Min left the apartment and had chosen to instead
spend the early morning hours preparing for work, trying to ignore the urge to sort through the folder
she had left with you. You placed it on the kitchen counter amongst old newspapers and bills and
hoped that work wouldn’t be too awkward around Yoongi.

As it turned out, you had little to worry about. When you arrived you noticed that your desk had
been cleaned out and a box had been left on top of it. A supervisor informed you that your desk had
been moved to the other side of the floor, far away from Yoongi’s office. You nodded obediently
and tried to sort through whether you were sad to be farther away from him or elated about the
distance. As you grabbed the box of your personal items you couldn’t help but let your eyes drift
through the glass wall of Yoongi’s office and were only somewhat surprised to see him starting back
at you. Neither one of you pulled your eyes from the other. You stared at each other with blank faces
and you willed your heart to stop it’s rapid thumping. It was only when your supervisor spoke to you
again, to offer to show you where your new desk would be, that you pulled your attention away
from him. Your new desk was much closer to Jungkook, something he seemed quite pleased about,
and he spent the rest of the day casually strolling past your desk on the way to the bathroom or break
room (or whatever other excuse he could find) to remind you how excited he was about your date
the next night.

His excitement carried over to you and was all but tangible as you stood outside the door to his
apartment on your scheduled date night. You had agreed to meet at his apartment as he lived closer
to the restaurant and theater that the two of you had picked. As you stood outside the door you could
hear two voices banter with each other inside but neither sounded like Jungkook. You hesitated,
checked the number on the door to be sure you had the right apartment, then knocked. When the
door swung open an unfamiliar man stood in front of you. His face was made of sharp features, his
skin had a lovely tan, and as soon as he took you in his mouth broke into a wide, rectangular smile.
“You must be Kookie’s date,” he said and opened the door wider for you to enter. You were so
shocked by the man’s youthful and sprite-like appearance that you didn’t move for a moment. He
merely chuckled and brought his hand to your back to usher you in. “Kook is in his room. He should
be ready in a minute. Come on in, don’t be shy. I’m Taehyung,” he said in a warm voice and led you
down a dimly lit hallway to a small living room. Another man sat on the couch, a console controller
in his hand and a friendly smile on his face that made his eyes all but disappear. “This is Jimin. We’re
Jungkook’s roommates.”

“Hi.” You waved at the two of them and let your eyes glance around the room. The room was
crowded with mismatched furniture, varying styles and patterned fabric told you it had probably all
been collected as hand-me-downs from parents or older, well meaning relatives. Pizza boxes and
empty beer and liquor bottles lined the coffee table in the middle of the room as well as the window
sill. The walls were bare except for posters of sports teams you couldn’t even recognize, a few
magazine cutouts of scantily clad centerfold models, and a large flag hung over the couch with the
university you knew to be Jungkook’s alma mater. “Oh, did you guys meet in university?” You
pointed to the flag on the wall and let your eyes continue to roam around the room.

“I see why Jungkook likes you so much. You’re observant. You are probably pretty smart,” Jimin
said with a nod.

“Well that’s not the only reason,” Taehyung chuckled and plopped down on the couch next to him.

You ignored his comment though you could hear Jimin admonish him under his breath. You were
too focused on the preposterously huge tv that took up nearly an entire wall and the state of the art
gaming systems housed beneath it. You couldn’t help but smile and shake your head at the sight. It
was such a young man’s bachelor pad all the way from the tattered furniture that was deemed
unnecessary to spend money on to the outlandish electronics that likely cost more than the entirety of
the furniture in the apartment. Not too mention the heat in the apartment. Sure, it was freezing outside
and snow had only just melted the day before, but you and Yeona kept a stern eye on your
thermostat. It was far more frugal to throw on extra clothes and blankets than to raise the heat and
pay the costly bill. You suddenly felt very aware of your age and the years that separated you and
Jungkook. Your apartment also featured mismatched furniture that had been handed down by well
intentioned friends and relatives but it was because your money was spent paying on your
outrageous student loan debt and trying to develop some kind of savings and retirement accounts. It
seemed Jungkook and his friends were still stuck in that post-college daze where such responsibilities
and obligations hadn’t even crossed their minds.

“You’ll have to ignore Taehyung,” Jimin suddenly spoke up and you turned your head back to look
at the two of them. “He’s had a bit too much to drink tonight. Jungkook hasn’t been anything but
respectful when he talks about you.”

“He talks about me?”

Taehyung scoffed and took a swig out of his beer bottle before he rolled his eyes in a comedic way.
“Only all the time. I feel like I know you as well as he does now.”

“Not that it’s annoying,” Jimin quickly added. “It’s kind of cute actually. He hasn’t been so worked
up about a date in a long time.”

“He hasn’t even gone on a date in weeks. He’s like a hermit ever since he started working at that
company. All he does is work and then talk about you,” Taehyung said. He paused for a moment
then laughed, “except for kicking Jimin’s ass at games. He still has time for that.” Jimin sent
Taehyung a pointed glare but didn’t offer any kind of defense.

“Where’s Jungkook’s room? I hate to rush him but if we don’t hurry we won’t make it to the movie
later,” you said with a quick glance to your phone.
“The room at the end of the hall on the left,” Jimin said and pointed down the hallway just past the
enormous television. “It was nice to meet you!”

“Yeah! It’s great to finally put a face with the name. You kids have fun tonight,” Taehyung said and
wiggled his eyebrows suggestively before he laughed.

Jimin slapped his arm again before he turned back to you, “seriously. Please ignore him. He’s
drunk.”

“It’s okay,” you giggled and waved to them. “It was nice to meet both of you.” Jimin returned your
wave and Taehyung shot you a thumbs up before you made your way down the hallway. You could
hear the two men whisper amongst themselves but couldn’t distinguish the words being spoken as
you progressed further down the hallway. Soon their hushed words were drowned out completely
and replaced with soft grunts that only grew louder the closer you got to the last door on the left. You
looked back down the way you came as if you would find the answer for the sound there. It was
foolish. The grunts clearly came from behind the door to Jungkook’s room and you were fairly sure
the panting that accompanied them gave away the nature of whatever he was doing.

The door to his room was ajar and you briefly pondered why anyone would make such a mistake but
then you heard a whine. It was low and he cut it off after only a second but you were sure you heard
it. You froze just in front of his door. If you moved half a step over you would be able to see into the
room. Just one tiny shuffling of your feet and you could see exactly what he was doing. Your heart
raced and you heard it pounding in your ears, like a constant drumming to accompany the sinful
images that ran through your mind.

You didn’t hear a second voice in the room with him. You were positive he was by himself and you
were certain he was masturbating. Just one half step. With a simple step to the side you would surely
be gifted with the sight of Jungkook, his hand wrapped around his cock, his eyes twisted shut and his
mouth hung open. You licked your lips at the image and cast one last glance down the hallway to be
sure that Jimin and Taehyung were none the wiser to what was happening. It crossed your mind that
it was an invasion of privacy but you reasoned with yourself that the door was left ajar for anyone to
walk in and see. And not just anyone. He knew you were scheduled to meet him. You bit your lip
and let your mind wander over thoughts of whether he intended for you to catch him in such a state.
Without another moment's hesitation you took a half step over to see through the space he had
allowed you.

Jungkook was propped against the headboard of his bed straight across the room from the door. His
feet were covered in white socks and his toes flexed and curled while his heels dug into the fabric of
the comforter that was left unmade underneath him. His pants were pushed down to his knees and
left the sight of his thighs tightening and relaxing every few seconds exposed to your eyes, not that
you paid particular attention. Your eyes were almost immediately drawn to his bare chest, a shirt
thrown in a pile on the bed beside him, that was covered in a thin layer of sweat that dripped down to
his abs. His chest rose and fell with each pant that crossed his lips and you found that your own
breathing had become labored. The muscles of his core flexed rhythmically and your eyes were
fixated on the motion for a moment before you took notice of his arm. It jerked quickly, almost
spastically, along his cock which stood proud in his hands.

You were too spellbound by the sight in front of you to notice that Jungkook’s eyes had been
focused on you. Without knowing that he had been aware of your presence you watched with parted
lips and wide eyes as his hand slowed its movement. Suddenly the veins that bulged underneath the
skin of his hand and forearm were clear, the sheen of his sweat only served to illuminate them under
the light of his bedside table. His large hand stroked himself slowly, his thumb swiped over the head
of his cock with each rise and his stomach muscles tightened in sequence with the act.
It wasn’t until you heard him hiss when his spare hand trailed down his chest and stomach to cup his
balls that you turned your attention to his face. His dark eyes bore right into you without a degree of
embarrassment or humiliation, his bottom lip was pulled taut between his teeth until he let it roll from
his mouth and smirked at you instead. His cheeks were flushed but it was clear from the way he
stared at you as if he dared you to make the first move that it was from exertion and not shyness. His
tongue slowly trailed over his bottom lip as he let his eyes rake over what he could see of your body
through the crack in the door.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed while you stared at each other. It could’ve been no
more than two seconds or perhaps even three minutes, you weren’t entirely sure of anything other
than the way he stared at you as he continued to stroke himself had lit a fire within you that you
hadn’t felt for anyone other than Yoongi in months. It was his name suddenly appearing in your
mind that snapped you back to reality. The last time you had given into a man without the benefit of
a date had not gone so well. You weren’t certain how serious something with Jungkook could ever
be but it dawned on you that if you gave into temptation and joined him in his room right then than
the precedent would be set. Why would he expect any different from you than Yoongi had? The idea
of entering yet another physical relationship without the promise of emotional intimacy was not
appealing.

“I’m sorry,” you said with a frantic rush, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-.” You stopped yourself,
completely aware that you had absolutely intended on watching him masturbate. “I’m really sorry,”
you repeated and rushed away from his room, unaware that his own eyes had widened with your
unexpected apology. You heard him call your name, even heard a crash as he no doubt stumbled out
of bed in a hurry to catch up to you, but you didn’t stop.

You hurried past Jimin and Taehyung who still sat on the couch and gave them a shy wave as you
made a beeline to the door. “Is everything okay,” one of them asked but you couldn’t be sure who as
their question muddled together with Jungkook shouting your name again. You threw open the
apartment door and rushed into the hallway to scurry for the stairwell and before the door closed
behind you Taehyung’s voice rang out with a boisterous laugh, “way to go, Kookie! You get her
here for a couple of minutes and you’ve already fucked it up.”

Your hand was on the handle of the stairwell door when you heard him shout your name again, this
time much closer to you. The sound of a door, no doubt the one to their apartment, closed again and
in the span of a second or two, not even enough time for you to throw yourself into the perceived
safety of the stairwell, had Jungkook closed the distance and grabbed your arm to spin you around to
face him.

His face was flushed, his bangs clung in a damp mess to his forehead, and, though he had managed
to get his pants on, his shirt had been another story. His head and one arm had found the appropriate
holes in his t-shirt but otherwise the white fabric clung around his shoulders leaving his sweaty chest
and abs completely exposed. “I’m so sorry,” he rushed out before you could pull out of his grip. “I
didn’t know you were going to be there. I thought I had a little more time before our date. I thought
Jimin or Tae would have told me you were here or that I would have heard you come into the
apartment or something.” His sentences ran together as if he was in fear that if he stopped explaining
himself you would choose to leave, almost as if he thought he could piece together the right
combination of words to get you to stay.

You knew he wasn’t being completely honest. The way he had looked at you, the deliberate and
taunting pace that his tongue had set when he licked his lips, the tantalizingly slow pace his hand had
set just to give you a better view, they all screamed that he wasn’t being completely forthcoming.
And though you knew he was holding back the truth you could see in his wide eyes, hear in his
pleading voice, feel in the grip of his hand around your arm and the comforting roll of his thumb
against your skin, the earnestness of his apology. He might not have admitted to everything you were
certain to be true but his regret was genuine. “It’s okay,” you said with a small nod.

“No, it’s not,” Jungkook assured you. “I know it doesn’t seem this way right now but I really do like
you. That? That was a fluke, a one-off, okay? I thought that maybe if I got one off before going out
with you tonight that I wouldn’t be so tempted to push you to do something you might not be ready
for.” You watched as his eyes darted between your own, looking for any hint of understanding or an
assurance that he had gotten through. His chest still rose and fell rapidly, not having had a chance to
slow his breathing since he had started masturbating. He didn’t seem at all concerned with the fact
that he was half naked in the hallway of his apartment building. His full attention was on you.
“Please forgive me. Please, I am so sorry. I really didn’t mean to ruin everything like that.”

His conviction in acquiring your forgiveness was admirable and, after months of being with no one
other than Yoongi, unfamiliar. It was too difficult to say no to him and you weren’t entirely sure that
you even wanted to. “It’s really okay, Jungkook. I promise.” You chose not to mention the way he
had seemingly set up the encounter for you to walk in on or the fact that you were certain he had
wanted you to join him. It was enough for you that he was genuinely apologetic about his mistake.

“Please,” he said with a whine to his voice before he cleared his throat and grasped your other arm
with his free hand, “let me clean up and take you on the date. We still have time to get dinner before
the movie.”

“Are you sure?” You quirked a brow at him and pointed to the tangled mess of his shirt around one
of his arms and his neck. “You think many places will allow you in looking like that?”

He looked down at his chest before quickly looking around the hallway to be sure no one had seen.
“Don’t worry, I’ll shower and dress again. I was in a rush to get to you is all,” he mumbled as he
removed his hands from you and slipped his remaining arm through the shirt to cover himself.

“You’ll have to be quick or else we will miss the movie.”

A smile broke across his face. “Is that a challenge? How long do you think I will take now that I
know you are waiting for me? Come on. Come wait inside and I’ll show you just how fast I can get
ready for you.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” you said and shook your head. “I’ll just wait out here. I think I’ve embarrassed
myself in front of your roommates enough already.”

“You didn’t embarrass yourself at all. I did. And don’t worry about Tae. He never drinks and Jimin
got him to try some new alcohol so now he’s making a fool of himself. He’s only had three drinks. If
anyone should be embarrassed it is him.” Jungkook waited for you to change your mind but after a
moment of silence he nodded his head in understanding. “Okay. Wait right here. I’ll be back in a few
minutes.”

Jungkook rushed back towards the apartment and you rested against the wall outside the door. As
soon as he swung the door open you heard his roommates launch into a barrage of questions. “What
the hell did you do?” Jimin’s voice was first to break out before Jungkook had even managed to
cross the threshold.

“Yeah, Kook. I think that’s the fastest any girl has ever ran out of here. Are you going for a new
record?” Taehyung’s words were slightly slurred but his chuckle followed by a giggle from Jimin
were clear.

“Shut up,” Jungkook growled and slammed the door behind him.
He returned only ten minutes later, freshly showered and dressed. His hair was still damp and his
cheeks were rosy from the heat of the shower. You were struck with an immediate sense of awe at
the way he could look so striking effortlessly. The benefit of youth, you thought and suddenly felt at
once a sense of envy and of shame. Your date for the evening was still at the ripe age of a fresh
college grad. He hadn’t even crossed into the age where his metabolism had dropped off yet. He
surely had no problems with hangovers after a measly two glasses of wine, something your lush
college self would have scoffed at. You were sure to wear sunscreen everyday and to loyally stick to
your skincare routine lest you find a wrinkle before you turned thirty. You wondered if you looked
like his older sister rather than his date for the evening but the same concern didn’t seem to weigh on
Jungkook’s mind. He slipped an arm around your waist, let his large hand settle into the curve and
his thumb stroke your side, before he smiled down at you. “Ready to go, beautiful?”

The walk to the restaurant he had chosen was mercifully short. The wind nipped at your exposed
skin just enough for you to curse yourself for wearing a dress, specifically one so short. Yeona had
pulled it out of her closet and thrust it at you with some hurried explanation that since Jungkook was
younger you should really strive to keep him interested. She had admonished you for your choice of
a longer skirt and tights, tsked under her breath about frostbite not being worth losing out on being
laid by a younger man, and insisted that you wear a push up bra, “to keep his attention on you”. She
had meant well but neither one of you had counted on the dip in the temperature just in time for you
to go on your date. It was a small reprieve that the restaurant was so warm and inviting but as soon as
you had regained feeling in your legs another problem emerged.

Jungkook’s hands were normally distracting, you had certainly spent your fair amount of time
sneaking glances at them, but after walking in on him in such an exposed position earlier in the
evening it seemed you couldn’t peel your eyes away from them. Simple and mundane things
suddenly seemed erotic. The seemingly ever present veins that snaked down his arms only to push
against the taut skin in his hand reminded you of the way those same blood vessels had bulged while
he stroked himself at an excruciatingly slow pace in front of you. The way he handled the menu and
let his fingers tap against the back as he perused the selections it listed, displayed his digits and
seemed to call your attention directly to them. The simple act set your mind to wonder how they
might feel in your hair, around your throat, and, in your more sinful thoughts, how your tongue
might wrap around them as he slipped them into your mouth with the same dark and hooded stare he
had given you earlier in the evening. You had to force yourself to look away and focus on your own
menu.

When his steak arrived at the table you found yourself staring at the way the bones of his wrist flexed
with each movement of his knife to cut the meat. There was something primal about the way he cut
and ate the flesh of another animal. You managed to pull your eyes away from his wrists only to
focus on his lips and the quick dash of his pink tongue against his lips to lap up any remaining juice
from the meat. The bones of his jaw clenched and flexed as he chewed and only when you forced
yourself to take a sip of your wine did you notice that he had been staring at you.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” Your cheeks heated as you wondered how obvious you were
with your admiration of such trivial things. Surely the wine was to blame.

His lips quirked into a smug smirk, “nope.”

“So you were just staring at me then?”

His smirk only grew wider as he looked away from you and took a sip of his own wine. “And what
were you doing then?”

You sputtered off some excuse about him having something on his face by his lips but he didn’t
seem convinced, though he did drop the subject. You were so flustered throughout the dinner that
you hadn’t even noticed how quickly you had been drinking your wine. By the time the two of you
were waiting for your check you had finished half the bottle on your own, not that Jungkook
mentioned it. He had been too busy catching you every time you gawked at him. Your fascination
with his hands hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Soon you found yourself at the movie theater. The venue he had chosen was a luxury movie theater
that you suspected was a brand new experience for him as well. He tried to hide his reaction at the
price of the tickets but you had caught the way his eyes had widened when the staff told him. You
offered to pay since he had covered dinner but he immediately rebuked the idea and muttered
something about wanting to treat you to something special. He had insisted on also buying popcorn
and drinks for the two of you to share but acquiesced to your insistence on helping pay for the
overpriced food. The seats in the theater were plush couches and loveseats instead of individual
chairs and Jungkook quickly led you to the middle of the room in order to have the best view. You
had both agreed to the latest psychological thriller that had been released and halfway through the
movie you couldn’t have even explained to anyone what the plot was.

The entire time, since the moment the lights had dimmed and the trailers had started, you found
yourself battling an intense bubbling of excitement and nervousness in your belly. It felt a bit like
when you were a school girl on her first date with her crush. The constant and cliché question of
whether or not he would make a move like those of teenage romance movies played on your mind.
He had chosen for the two of you to sit on a loveseat that offered just enough room for you each to
be seated without touching each other, though you were all too aware of the heat radiating off of his
body.

When he leaned forward to grab a handful of popcorn off the small coffee table situated in front of
the two of you your eyes were transfixed with the way his button up shirt clung to his arm and
allowed a peek at the muscles contained within the fabric. He caught you looking, of course, and
turned to throw a smirk at you over his shoulder. When he leaned back into the couch he leaned in
closer to you and whispered, “are you enjoying the movie?”

“Yeah. It’s really interesting,” you lied but put on the best poker face you could.

“Is that so? Because you haven’t been looking at the screen for most of the movie,” he said in a
hushed voice. He was close enough for his breath to tickle your ear, the heat of it made the skin of
your neck tingle and you vaguely wondered if he could see the goosebumps form on your arms.

“Have so,” you fired back and turned your attention squarely to the screen, determined to not let him
catch you gawking at him anymore. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see that he continued
to stare at you for a moment, a smug smile plastered across his face, before he chuckled lowly and
turned back towards the screen. Without a moment’s hesitation he swung his arm around the back of
the couch and the giddy butterflies in your stomach returned. His hand slid down the back cushion of
the couch until it met your shoulder where it gave a firm squeeze, as if he was announcing his arrival
in case you had somehow completely missed the move, then settled for rubbing gentle, comforting,
and mindless circles into your skin. The nervous excitement in your belly exploded. You hoped the
movie theater was dark enough that he wouldn’t see your expression easily as you tried to fight off a
giddy smile.

It wasn’t clear who initiated it but somehow over the course of the movie the two of you had closed
the distance between you on the couch. You had started at a comfortable distance, not touching each
other, but after Jungkook wrapped his arm around you the space had closed. Towards the end of the
movie your bodies were joined together on the loveseat, your thigh pressed against his, your shoulder
locked in under his arm, his hand still drawing slow, abstract lines into your skin. Cuddling with
Jungkook felt nice, there was no other way to describe it. He was warm, smelled of cedar, and,
pathetically, you realized you hadn’t been that close with someone in such a romantic and intimate
sense in months. Everything about you seemed to have been broken down into your physical and
sexual assets while you slept with Yoongi, they were, after all, the only things he appeared to care
about. To feel someone hold you in such a way-- in public no less! -- was alarmingly heartwarming.
Or was it that you had been so devoid of affection that you were desperate for any morsel of it that
someone tossed your way?

“You know,” Jungkook whispered into your ear and pulled you from your thoughts, “if you were
any closer to me you would be sitting in my lap.” His breath was hot against your ear and the way he
tried to keep his voice quiet only made it sound deeper, like a low rumble or growl. “Not that I’m
complaining,” he finished and squeezed you closer into him, clearing any remaining space that might
have been available between your bodies.

After the movie the two of you ambled back towards Jungkook’s apartment and the nearby subway
station. The night was quickly coming to a close and the awkward question of what would happen at
the end of it played heavy on your mind. You ignored your nearly frozen legs to enjoy the warmth of
Jungkook’s hand as it enveloped yours. His thumb rolled casually across your hand and, by the way
his grip tightened on you and the way he chewed on his bottom lip, you assumed he was also
wondering just how the date would end. His apartment building came into view far too quickly for
your liking and you distinctly heard Jungkook let out an annoyed sigh when he saw it was only a
block away.

“I had a great time tonight,” he finally said then returned to chew on his lip.

“I did too. The movie was really interesting.”

“You didn’t even pay attention to the movie,” he chuckled and then nudged you with his shoulder,
as a suggestive twist of his lips spread. “It seems you liked looking at me more.”

“I did not,” you scoffed but couldn’t fight the grin that demanded to stretch across your face.

“If you just wanted to stare at me all night all you had to do was ask. I certainly stare at you enough.
It’d be nice if things were a bit more even.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, kid,” you laughed.

“Kid?” He halted his walk and the tight grip he held on your hand forced you to do the same. He
stared at you incredulously but the amused twinkle of his eye and the curl of his lips gave away his
true feelings. “You think I’m a kid?”

“What did you say? All your friends are older than you and call you Kookie? Should I start calling
you that too?” You leaned in towards him and let out a dramatic coo of, “Kookie.”

His eyes flashed. “Say it again.”

“Oh? You like being the baby in the group? Do you like it when I call you Kookie?” You held out
the vowels and scrunched up your nose, tried to mimic your annoying aunt and the way she would
pinch the cheeks of all your younger cousins when the family got together.

Just as your free hand got close to his face, intent on squeezing the soft spot at the apples of his
cheeks, he grabbed your wrist and in the fluorescent light of the convenience store sign from across
the street you could see him cock his head, a faint smirk on his face. “I just like the way it sounds
when you say it. I like thinking that you would call me some kind of nickname. I like thinking that
you feel so comfortable around me that you would call me that. Is that so wrong?”

Your eyes widened, any thoughts of responding with a joke vanished as you stood under his intense
stare. “No,” you finally whispered.

His eyes dipped to your lips briefly before he licked his own. “Can you do me a favor?” You
nodded, unable to form a coherent thought. “Say it again,” he requested in a hushed voice, the low
rumble returning before he quickly added, “for real this time.”

Somewhere down the road a car honked its horn, a woman on the other side of the street was in the
middle of a loud argument on her phone, and two drunken teenagers leaned against a parked car only
yards away from you but neither one of you seemed to notice. Jungkook wasn’t even aware that he
was standing in a puddle of melted snow, his attention completely focused on the way the fluorescent
lights from the stores on the street drenched your silhouette. He would never admit it to you or his
friends, certain that it would only be met by boisterous mocking, but he was certain you had never
looked more beautiful than at that very moment.

“Kookie,” you mercifully said after what felt like a torturous minute of tense staring and unspoken
thoughts.

You didn’t break your gaze with him but noticed that his Adam’s apple bounced as he swallowed
thickly. He licked his lips again and when he spoke his voice came out hoarse and nearly bashful. “I
really want to kiss you right now.”

“What are you waiting for?”

It was all the permission he needed. He dropped the wrist that you had lifted to pinch his cheeks and
replaced it around the back of your neck as he closed the distance between the two of you. His eyes
didn’t break their stare with you until he finally tilted his head and placed his soft lips against your
own. He had given you ample warning, had even gotten your permission, but you still faltered for a
split second. Your eyes widened to a comical size and your lips froze until you finally snapped out of
your shock, closed your eyes, and lost yourself in the feeling of his mouth as it moved against your
own. Your head felt fuzzy, a constant drumming roar in your ears that you only realized afterwards
was your racing heartbeat, but it wasn’t until the drunken teenagers started shouting and hollering,
“yeah, go for it dude!”, that you and Jungkook pulled apart from each other.

He cast a disapproving glare towards the kids before he turned back to you. “That counts as our first
kiss. I’m going to ignore the one from the company party,” he said as if it wasn’t even up for debate.
You only nodded as you felt your face heat while the teens continued to shout obscenities and
cheers. “Come on, I guess we should probably get you home before the last train runs.”

He turned to walk towards his apartment building but you stood still. He turned back to question you
but you licked your lips to taste any remaining remnants of him and answered his question before he
could ask. “Or we could stay out a bit longer,” you suggested. His eyebrows raised at the prospect.
“I’m sure there’s probably a bar around here, right? We could maybe get a few drinks,” you said and
rubbed the back of your neck.

“Uh yeah,” Jungkook finally nodded. “Th-There’s one about two blocks from here that is open late.
But uh, what about the final train?”

“Are you kidding, dude? She’s asking you to ply her with liquor. Hit that already,” one of the
drunken teenagers shouted.

Jungkook glared at them again and moved to say something back but you squeezed his hand,
unconcerned with some kids looking to start trouble. “I could always catch a taxi home,” you said
with a shrug, as if the prompt of staying out later with a man you just kissed and spent the whole
night fantasizing about didn’t come with its own suggestion of how the evening would end.

“Yeah. Okay,” Jungkook said with a nod. You were sure he had the same idea that you did, that the
possibility of how the night would end had suddenly taken a more suggestive and exciting turn. He
started down the road, away from the teens and back the way you came from. “It’s this way.”

The bar he had chosen was a small, hole in the wall type of place. The kind of place that most people
walk past and never consider entering. The lights were dim, it smelled of cigarette smoke, and there
were only a handful of rickety old tables with wobbly legs and mismatched chairs. It seemed the
other patrons of the bar were regulars, the kind of people who all knew each other by first name and
favorite drink, like a makeshift family of lonely people. The bartender, an older woman with delicate
wrinkles around her eyes and mouth from years of laughing and smoking, nodded to Jungkook when
he walked in the building. She approached the table as soon as Jungkook and you had sat down with
a beer bottle in her hand. “Long time no see, Jungkook,” she said and placed the beer bottle in front
of him before she turned her attention to you. “And what can I get you, doll?”
Immediately after you told her your order she slapped Jungkook on his shoulder. “So is this how
you’ve been spending all your time? Taking your dates to trashy bars like this?”

“No,” he rushed out and waved his hands, “honest. I took her on a nice date tonight. We just decided
to have a few drinks to end the night is all and your bar was the first that came to my mind.”

She narrowed her eyes at him before she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’ll let it slide this
time but only because it has been so long since you or the boys have been here. Next time you better
take her to a nicer place or your mother will hear about this.” She turned back towards you and
smiled warmly, “don’t let this kid take you just anywhere. He was raised better than that. I’ll get your
drink, doll.”

As soon as she left your table Jungkook rapidly tried to explain, his cheeks tinted pink and his eyes
more or less focused on his beer bottle instead of your eyes. “That’s my aunt. My mom’s sister. She
kind of watches over me since I live so far from home.”

“She seems nice,” you said with a smile.

“Does she?” He let out a nervous chuckle and checked over his shoulder before he continued to
speak in a whisper, “it’s all an act. She’s awful.”

Despite what Jungkook had said his aunt had been quite attentive and welcoming. She had spent a
good deal of time asking questions about you and seemed to approve of you more than she did her
own nephew. Anytime yours or Jungkook’s drinks neared empty she would refill them without
question.

Finally Jungkook muttered, “please don’t misunderstand but we’re on a date right now,” he said and
stared at her with a pointed look.

“Oh I get it,” she said and held up her hands defensively, “you don’t want your meddling aunt to put
a damper on the night. Nevermind the fact that you get to drink here for free. Nevermind the fact that
I gave you a place to live during college. Nevermind all the hours I spent babysitting you when you
were a kid. We won’t even get to the countless diapers I had to change. Your old aunt is just a
nuisance on your evening. I got it.”

“Jungkook,” you hissed out his name with a scolding tone.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, “don’t take her seriously. She’s kidding.”

The woman put her arm on your shoulder and praised, “you really are sweet. Too sweet for this kid.
Treat her right, Jungkook, or else I’m going to come after you. You think you’re grown but you’re
not too big for me to take over my knee.”

Jungkook muttered something incoherent as he rubbed his face, no doubt trying to will away the
embarrassing situation. Once she was gone he finally emerged from behind his hands only to find
you beaming at him. “What?”

“Don't you think it's funny that you were just trying to convince me that you aren't a kid anymore but
then take me to a bar that your aunt owns and where you get free drinks?”

“Oh god,” Jungkook groaned in defeat and hung his head. “This again?”

“I think it's cute,” you said with a shrug and took another sip of your drink. “It’s nice to see you
squirm.”

“See me squirm? What do you mean?”

“You always try to act so confident, even cocky sometimes. It's nice to see you intimidated and
embarrassed.” You took a sip of your drink and pointed at him with a grin. “You so desperately want
to prove to me that you’re not a kid. It’s kind of cute to see you try so hard.”

He took a sip of his own drink but didn’t take his eyes off of you as he contemplated whether or not
to take a chance and reply with what he wanted to say. He took another, larger sip in hopes the liquid
courage would allow the words to flow easily. “If you really want me to prove I’m not a kid I have
other ways of showing you,” he said in a low voice. “And I don’t think you would find them so
cute.” The cheeky grin slowly faded off your face but he didn’t break his eye contact with you so,
though you didn’t want to, you let your eyes fall to where his hands rested against his beer bottle.
You tried not to notice the way the condensation on the bottle reminded you of the sweat that had
shined on his chest and abs when you caught him in his room earlier that night. “You’re not very
subtle.”

You pulled your eyes away from his hands to look at his eyes once again. “I’m sorry. What?”

“I said you aren’t very subtle,” he said with a cocky grin and leaned back in his seat before taking
another sip of his beer. “All night you’ve been staring at me. Blatantly.”

“Have not,” you shot back and rolled your eyes. “You are so full of yourself.”

He leaned forward again and quirked an eyebrow but didn’t say anything else. You went to take
another sip of your drink, hoping that the heat in your cheeks was from all the alcohol and not
obvious to him, when you noticed his hand again. It moved lazily up and down the length of his
bottle, something that perhaps would have been meaningless if it hadn’t happened after seeing him
stroke himself in such a way earlier that evening. Your mind quickly picked up the suggestive
movement and flickered back to the way that same hand had looked against his cock. The way his
thumb had rolled over his tip with each slow and exaggerated stroke. The very same veins that had
snaked around his arm then peeked through the sleeve of his shirt at the table and you found yourself
taking too large of a sip. The alcohol burned in your throat as you choked on it before recovering
only to find Jungkook’s eyes still trained on you with a twinkle in them. “What’s wrong? Something
got you flustered?”

“No,” you said between rough coughs.

“Really? Nothing to do with my hands then?” Your eyes shot back to his, wide in alarm. You knew
you hadn’t been that subtle with your staring but you were positive it hadn’t been that obvious. One
of his eyebrows quirked up at your silence and his eyes flashed down to your lips before he returned
to meet your stare. “You know, it’s okay to admit that you like them. You’ve been staring at them all
night.”

“I have not,” you muttered quietly.

“Have you always had a thing for guys hands?” He leaned in across the table and cocked his head to
the side, “or are mine special?”

It was flattering to have someone as good looking and charming as Jungkook flirt with you
continuously. The way his eyes dipped to your lips and then to your cleavage before returning, ever
so slowly, to meet your gaze was at once intimidating and gratifying. Even when Jungkook was
overtly sexual with his flirtations he did it in a way that kept you from feeling wholly objectified.
Maybe it was that you had gotten so use to Yoongi’s advances, the lack of finesse and care to them,
that someone putting forth any effort at all to win your affections left you weak in the knees. Surely
there was nothing more flattering for a woman close to exiting her twenties than for a man who had
only recently entered his pursue her so diligently.

Was there a chance that your relationship with Jungkook could lead to anything more than sex? You
weren’t entirely sure. He was extremely charming, funny, ambitious, absolutely gorgeous, and
exuded confidence from every pore of his body but the age difference would always remain the
same. Giving in to his advances, more than you already had succumbed to them, would surely send a
message to him that you were willing to try but then again had the kiss not already done that? Had
agreeing to go on a second date with him not already sent the same signal?

Yoojung’s advice from the bar several nights earlier rang through your head. Perhaps she was right.
Jungkook knew the risks associated with pursuing you and clearly did not care about them. He had
expressed his fondness for you but not pressured you to make any steps you weren’t comfortable
with. Maybe it would lead to something or maybe it wouldn’t but either way you were both adults
and capable of enjoying a night together. And sure, perhaps, your heart fluttered a little too quickly
whenever Jungkook turned his attention your way, and yes, maybe he was the only person in months
who had been able to do that to you other than Yoongi, but your hazy mind ignored all of the
possible ramifications and encouraged you to take a sip of liquid courage before you spoke. “Yours
are pretty special,” you said with a lilt to your voice and a coy smile.

Jungkook’s own lips quirked up into a smirk and he leaned further across the table. “Is that so?” His
voice dropped down to a whisper so that only you could hear him, “then why don’t you let me show
you what they can do.”

“I don’t know,” you said with an exaggerated sigh. “Are you allowed to be out this late? Isn’t it past
your bedtime?”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed but your smile only grew brighter. “Alright, that’s it, we’re leaving,” he
growled and grabbed your wrist. You giggled as you followed him, your laughter only growing
louder as he threw a rushed farewell over his shoulder to his aunt.

You stepped out into the cold and unforgiving winter night air and immediately hissed, “where are
we going?”
“I’m taking you home,” Jungkook answered as he stretched to look farther down the street in hopes
of finding an oncoming taxi. “Come on, let’s go to a busier street,” he finally muttered and yanked
you by the wrist again.
“What’s your hurry?” you giggled, fully aware of what the implications of the evening were.

He shot a smirk at you before he shrugged. “Just wouldn’t want you to fall asleep on me, grandma.”

“Grandma!” Your shriek could be heard down the street and when you moved to slap his shoulder
for his most grievance offense he only used your wrist to pull you closer into him. Your back was
against his chest but before you could complain he had wrapped his thick coat around you,
swallowing you into his heat. He let go of your wrists only to wrap his arms around your waist and
keep you close to him as you both shuffled in the awkward embrace towards the busier street.
“Jungkook,” you finally whispered, “this is such an awkward way to walk.”

“I know,” he chuckled and buried his head in the crook of your neck, “but just humor me for a bit
okay?”

His voice was soft and in your ear it was entirely comforting, causing you to lean back into him and
melt into his body heat. “Just don’t call me grandma again.”

“Then don’t call me kid. Deal?”

You mulled it over in your head as it had been the only thing you had found that made Jungkook
react so quickly but finally relented. “Fine. Deal.” He tightened his arms around your waist and
placed the faintest kiss on your exposed collarbone as the two of you finally reached the new street.

He walked the two of you, in your awkward if not warm shuffle, to the edge of the street. A
particularly harsh breeze swept through past the cars and traffic and you pushed yourself back further
into Jungkook’s chest, desperately seeking his warmth to shelter you. He chuckled as he looked
down the street towards oncoming traffic for an available taxi. He hailed the cab and as it made its
way towards the two of you Jungkook took the opportunity to lower his lips to your ear and in a low,
raspy whisper said, “if I didn't know any better I’d think you enjoy being in my arms.” Before you
could reply, not that you had anything to counter with because the truth was that you had, he
unlatched his coat from around you and ushered you towards the waiting cab.

After telling the driver the address to your apartment you settled into your seat. Jungkook’s legs were
spread, taking up much more room than he should have, but while that usually bothered you on the
subway and bus it fueled other emotions at that moment. All you could picture was being on your
knees in front of him with his legs spread, running your hand along his thighs until you hit the belt of
his pants, and his hands in your hair to encourage you to continue. You coughed to try to clear your
throat and your mind and turned your attention towards the window to watch the traffic and
pedestrians still caught in the winter air.

While you stared at the passing cityscape Jungkook was busy watching you. If you had pulled your
attention from the window for a moment you would have noticed the way his eyes drew over you
slowly as his tongue dipped out of his mouth to leave a slow swipe across his lower lip. It wasn’t
long before he noticed that your dress had slipped up your thigh. Nothing was exposed that you
hadn’t already shown in your short skirts at work but seeing the bare skin when you were so close to
him, when he could smell your perfume and feel your body pressed against his emboldened him. He
lolled his tongue in his cheek and swallowed the nervous lump in his throat before he firmly planted
his hand on your knee.

You jolted in your seat, his touch having caught you in the middle of trying to push yet another
image of him stroking himself on his bed earlier from your mind, but you didn’t stop him. You
smiled to yourself. Your reflection was evident in the window of the cab and you wondered if he
could see it. He rubbed his thumb in slow circles but disappointingly, to your hazed mind, he kept his
hand at a respectable spot and didn’t seem intent on venturing any higher up your thigh. You flicked
your eyes towards the driver and noticed that he was focused on the road, completely unconcerned
about the two passengers in his car.

Without giving it much more thought you squeezed your knees together, catching Jungkook’s hand
between the warm skin of them and watched his reaction in the reflection of the window. His eyes
darted from his hand on your knee to your face, a look of worry and furrowed brows on his face that
told you he was concerned you wanted him to stop, but you didn’t turn to look at him, positive that if
you had you would lose all the courage the alcohol had built up inside you. Instead, once his
attention was back on his hand and the way it was caught between your knees, you spread your legs
wide for him and hoped he understood the hint. His eyes grew into wide circles before he flashed a
look towards the driver himself. You were confident the driver was not concerned about the drunken
lovebirds he had picked up in the middle of the night and was more interested in whatever thoughts
ran through his own head. The cab was dark on the inside, the fluorescent lights of Jungkook’s
neighborhood having been abandoned for the dim streetlights of a residential street somewhere
between both of your apartments, and you soothed the small but anxious part of your mind with the
certainty that the driver wouldn’t even be able to see anything.

You watched Jungkook bite his lip before casting one more look towards your face, that you still
refused to turn towards him, and, with a smirk, he let his hand travel further up your thigh. He didn’t
take his time and you couldn’t blame him. You had all but said aloud you wanted him to touch you.
If he had spent the night wanting you as much as you had wanted him then you couldn’t imagine
having the self restraint either. When his hand made contact with your covered core you heard him
chuckle quietly next to you. His middle and ring finger pressed into you as he estimated where your
clit would be and you gripped the handle on the door of the taxi. You had expected his touch but
what you hadn’t counted on was the tingles that would radiate out from wherever he touched you.

He shuffled closer to you on the seat in order to get better access to you and rolled his fingers into
your thinly veiled pussy. “How long have you been this wet, sweetheart?” His whispers and the heat
from his breath only made you grip the door handle tighter. The truth was you couldn’t pinpoint
when you had become so aroused because the entire night had been spent with the image of him
jerking himself off in his sweaty glory flashing through your mind and you refused to believe that
you were so weak as to have been turned on ever since that moment. “This must’ve been
uncomfortable for you. You should’ve let me help you sooner.” You whimpered. It was small, quiet,
the driver certainly wouldn’t hear it over the roar of the engine and the radio, but Jungkook
absolutely did. “Be honest with me,” he implored and nipped at your earlobe which made your eyes
close instinctively, “are you this wet because of me?” You bit your lip and nodded, not trusting
yourself to try to speak. He hummed his approval then continued, “is this because you saw me
jerking off?” You nodded again and he pressed your folds together to pinch your clit like he was
rewarding your honesty. “You should have joined me. I was already thinking about you. How close
are we to your place?”

You forced yourself to open your eyes and look at your surroundings. You recognized the
convenience store on the corner, one you had frequented with Yeona during drunken nights where
you craved junk food in the early hours of the morning. “Not far. Just a minute or two longer,” you
squeaked out and hoped Jungkook didn’t hear the tension in your voice.

“I’ll walk you in,” he said as if he was doing you a favor, being a gentleman and ensuring you made
it to your apartment safely, but the way he continued to squeeze your folds together and roll his
fingers against your clit told you he had ulterior motives.

“I’d like that,” you managed to whisper.

“I can tell that, sweetheart,” he said and pulled his hand away from you to return to his seat before
the car stopped in front of your building. Jungkook pulled his wallet out to pay the driver before you
could insist on splitting the cost and then motioned for you to get out. He followed you into your
building and to the elevator in the lobby but neither one of you said anything to each other. Every
time your eyes caught each other’s he would smirk, that same lopsided smile that was nearly ever
present on his face, before you would turn away with a coy grin.

The elevator was on the small side but somehow you and Jungkook managed to find yourself on
opposite sides of the carriage. You pressed the button for your floor then looked at him only to find
that he had already been staring at you. The door closed to the carriage but neither of you broke your
gaze to monitor your ascent. You could see the outline of his hands balled in fists in his coat and
from there it was hard not to notice a tell-tale bulge in the front of his pants. You looked away from
him, finally, to see what floor you were on but his voice demanded your attention. “You’re not going
to get shy on me now, are you?” His voice was more of a growl, like a warning, than it had been in
the taxi. It was insane the amount of little things that he did that drove you crazy. You were a grown
woman, one who had been with her fair share of men, and yet a kid freshly out of college, someone
who had only recently acquired the title of a man, could cause you to come undone with a simple
growl and choice words.

The carriage was only a few floors shy of your own. You were relatively positive of your privacy,
surely no one else would need to use the only elevator in the building at such an hour, and that
certainty propelled you towards him. Your lips found his before he could even react and while the
kiss on the street earlier that night had been relatively romantic (save for those drunken teenagers and
their shouts) the kiss in the elevator was animalistic, carnal, and completely lacked the inhibitions that
the two of you may have had if you were sober. His hands found purchase on your waist before they
slid down unapologetically to grab handfuls of your ass, pulling the skirt of your dress higher and
threatening to expose you in the empty elevator. Your own hands clung to his hair, desperate to bring
him as close to you as possible. His tongue demanded entrance into your mouth where he explored
against your own while you moaned into him.

You had all but forgotten where you were when the elevator dinged to signal the arrival at your
floor. You pulled away from Jungkook, something he seemed surprised about, completely oblivious
to the open doors of the elevator, and grabbed his hand without saying a word. The hallway was
empty and you were grateful of that as you practically ran down the corridor, Jungkook chuckling
behind you but keeping pace with your gait. Your free fingers fidgeted with the keypad frantically.
You were so preoccupied with the need to taste him again that you entered the wrong passcode three
times before finally getting the right order of numbers. The knowledge that he stood right behind
you, the hand you weren’t holding rested against your waist as his hands kneaded the curve in your
body and the bulge you had noticed before pressed firmly against your ass, didn’t make the process
any easier. As soon as the door was open you both piled in.

He attacked as soon as the door closed behind the two of you, his lips immediately finding yours as
he pressed you against the wall in the entryway. “My roommate,” you mumbled in between kisses.

He groaned, desperate to finally get full access to you. “Then lead the way to your room because in
about thirty seconds I’m not going to be able to stop myself,” he said as he peppered kisses down the
column of your neck but he didn’t move away from you.

“Jungkook,” you giggled in admonishment and pushed against his chest to give yourself the space to
lead the way down the hallway, his hand firmly grasped in your own again. The two of you crept
past Yeona’s room and as soon as your bedroom door was closed you slipped your purse down your
arm to let it fall haphazardly on the floor. You pushed Jungkook against the door and pressed your
lips against his again, your mouth swallowing the grunt he made when his back hit the wood.
“Look at you,” he mused with a small chuckle in the gaps between kisses. His hands sought out your
waist and pulled at the fabric of your dress to lift it over your ass. “In a hurry, sweetheart?”

You smiled against his lips with a light, “shut up,” and nipped at his bottom lip while your hands
worked feverishly to unbutton his coat.

One of his hands reared back and slapped your ass before kneading the flesh in his palm. You hissed
and he took the opportunity to grab handfuls of your rear with both of his large hands. “So feisty,” he
whispered and moved his mouth towards your ear. “I didn’t expect that.”

He pulled your earlobe into his mouth and rolled it in between his teeth as he gripped your ass. His
firm grasp on your flesh caused you to buck your hips against his, the erection you had seen push
against his pants earlier now pressed into your stomach. You tried to speak in a firm and unaffected
voice but the feeling of his warm breath in your ear as he nipped at your lobe proved to be too much.
“You’ve thought about what I’m like in bed?” It came out more a whimper or a whine than a
question but he seemed to understand all the same.

He pulled away from you in order to gauge your face. “Are you serious?” One of his eyebrows
quirked up and he licked his lips, still able to taste the residue of your lipstick on his mouth. “Have I
not made it clear how much I think about you? How much I want you?”

You had enough of an idea about how much you were on his mind but the thought of hearing him
express it aloud thrilled you. It had been a long time since you had been praised by someone,
especially someone who was clearly as attracted to you as Jungkook was. “I don’t know. Why don’t
you remind me about how much?”

Jungkook smirked and dug his fingers into the flesh of your ass and lifted you up until your legs
wrapped around his waist. He walked, unsteadily due to the alcohol, towards your bed and collapsed
on top of it with you underneath him. You giggled at the fall and the light groan he made as the two
of you toppled onto the mattress. He snaked his hands from your ass up to your waist and settled
himself in between your legs, the bulge of his erection pressed against your core. “I think you got a
full view of how much I think about you earlier tonight.” He lowered himself onto you, and rolled
his hips once against you to elicit a gasp from your lips, before he slipped his mouth onto your neck.
He left open mouth kisses across the skin and down to your collarbone before he licked a thick stripe
back up to your ear. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

The two of you were still fully dressed, shoes, coats, and all as you laid in a tangled mess on your
bed. His body pressed against yours, trapping you between him and the bed, made your body heat
and sweat. While he worked on your neck with his tongue, teeth, and lips you pulled at his coat to
try to undress the two of you for what you both expected would transpire. “You looked so good,”
you confessed in a whisper. “I can’t get the image out of my head.”

He shifted his body to toss his coat to the side, losing it somewhere on your floor, and you took the
opportunity to do the same with your own. He immediately returned his attention to your neck,
pulling the soft skin in to his mouth to nip and suck while you moaned before he kissed the skin to
soothe it. “You know what I was thinking about?” You mewled underneath him to prompt him to
continue. Your eyes were closed, your head turned to the side to provide him better access to your
neck, and your hands latched onto his arms as they propped him up over you. “I was wondering just
what you sound like when you moan,” he whispered into your skin and rolled his hips against you to
hear the sound again. “I was imagining just how soft you would feel in my hands,” he continued and
moved one hand to your breast to squeeze softly at the mound of flesh before he ran his thumb over
your hardened nipple repeatedly. He shifted so that his weight rested on one forearm by your head
and he slipped his hand under your dress, the skirt pooled around your waist, to feel the warmth of
your body directly. “I kept imagining what you might look like naked and panting underneath me.”

“Really?” You dug your nails into the one arm you could still reach and let the other roam through
his thick hair.

He chuckled against your neck before he bit down against the skin hard enough to make you yelp.
He pulled away from you, his eyes focused on your neck to admire the marks he had left along the
fragile skin. “It’s not the first time I’ve thought about it, sweetheart. You really seem to have no idea
how much I think about you. I’ve wanted you for a long time and now here you are,” he said and
turned his eyes to meet yours. “All night you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me. So why don’t you
tell me what you were thinking about.”

You smirked up at him and pushed against his chest. He obliged your silent request and pulled
himself away from you only for you to push him flat on his back next to you before you straddled his
lap and let the bulge in his pants settle against your core, your dress falling over your hips to cover
the junction where your bodies met. His eyes were wide as he stared up at you but his surprise didn’t
stop him from latching his hands to your thighs, his fingers digging into the skin roughly.

You hadn't been so forward in sex in months and the thrill of seeing Jungkook, who had just openly
admitted how much he wanted you, pinned underneath you and awaiting your next move excited
you. His eyes danced along your body until they spotted your hands at the hem of your dress. You
lifted the fabric up and watched as his eyes followed the garment in order to take in every inch of
your body that you would expose for him. Slowly, teasingly, you lifted the fabric over your waist
and, with a few awkward shifts of your limbs, were able to toss it amongst the other discarded
clothes on the floor. If Jungkook’s eyes had been wide before they were positively cartoonish at the
sight of you on top of him in your bra and panties only.

He didn't move for a moment, his doe eyes busy scanning across your body to take in the entire
image, so you gripped his large hands and interlocked your fingers with his while you rolled against
his caged erection. He hissed and bit his bottom lip to keep from being too vocal but moved his eyes
to meet yours. “I've been thinking about your hands all night,” you whispered, still working up the
courage to reveal to him the extent of the fantasies that had been plaguing you all night.

“What about them?” His hips bucked against yours with each tauntingly slow roll of your hips as he
implored to encourage you to continue.

“These veins,” you said and dismissed one of his hands in order to trace the visible veins on his other
with your fingers. “They're always so clear and bulging.”

“And that does it for you?”

“That's hardly all,” you quipped back and kept your eyes on the way his fingers tightened their grasp
on the one hand of yours that they still held. “I keep thinking about what you might do with them.”

“What is it you want me to do with them? Tell me what you keep thinking about.” His voice was
low and raspy, more a growl than his normal tone.

“I wonder what they would feel like around my neck,” you finally said and managed to catch
Jungkook’s eyes but they looked darker now, his pupils wide and dilated. Encouraged by the
reaction you continued, “I kept imagining sucking on them while you jerked off like you did earlier.”

His eyes flashed as he grunted and suddenly he had you pinned underneath him again, his mouth
attached to your own as his tongue explored your own. His hands gripped your wrists and pushed
them into the mattress without apology as his hips rolled and ground against yours. His kisses were
rough and hurried, his chest pressed against yours and keeping it pushed into the mattress despite
your back’s need to arch into his movements. Without warning he pulled away and left you lying in
front of him as he kneeled between your legs. His eyes remained locked with yours as his fingers
worked at the buttons of his shirt to slowly reveal the tanned skin you had seen earlier in the evening.
Only when his shirt was fully undone did you allow yourself to pull away from his eyes and scan the
length of his torso. The dips and crevices of his abs were shiny with a thin layer of sweat, the
muscles in his chest flexed as he undid his belt silently.

Without another word he moved away from you to prop himself up against your headboard. You
twisted on the bed to watch him, still transfixed by the sight of a practically shirtless and sweaty
Jungkook in front of you, but didn't say a word to question him. He kicked off his pants and pushed
them off the bed to join all the other discarded clothes. Finally he was placed at the head of your bed
wearing only an unbuttoned dress shirt and his black boxer briefs. The new freedom, the lack of as
much confinement, caused his erection to strain against the fabric of his boxers, begging for release
as he palmed himself.

“Sit in front of me,” he commanded and you scurried across the bed, eager to comply. “How about
we make those fantasies come true?” His lips quirked into his usual smile but the dusty pink shade
across his cheeks told you that his nerves about being with you for the first time weren't all that
different than your own.

You nodded and licked your lips. “I’d like that.”

“Open that pretty mouth for me, sweetheart.” You positioned yourself in between his spread legs and
did as you were told.

He gave one last look towards your eyes to check for any hesitancy before they dipped to your open
mouth. He cupped your jaw and let his finger run across your bottom lip, tug at the skin lightly,
before he slipped his index and middle finger into your mouth and pressed against your tongue.
“Suck,” he ordered in a soft voice.

You closed your mouth around his fingers and did as he wanted. Your tongue swirled around his
long digits and pulled his fingers in deeper into your mouth. His eyes were entirely focused on your
mouth, his dark stare trained to where his fingers disappeared inside of you as if he was transfixed by
the sight.

He palmed himself through his boxer briefs, his grip tightening on his cock as he traveled the length
of it. You could still remember the way it looked earlier that night as he stroked himself in his own
bed, the way a vein had wrapped around the length, the white beads of precum that had leaked from
his tip only to be spread by his thumb, and the grip he had maintained on himself with his large hand.
You longed to see it again.

The mere thought of his position from then being mimicked on your bed had the coil in your stomach
tightening. The reality was even better. His skin was covered in a light sweat, his eyes trained on you
as if you were the only thing he could see, and his thighs flexed every few seconds as another rush
came over him.

You pulled your hands from in front of you and moved to kneel in between his legs with your legs
slightly spread. His eyes immediately moved to the gap between your legs and the way your hands
pulled away from the bed to roam up your thighs until one was nestled on your thinly veiled core and
the other traveled up to grasp at one of your breasts.

“Oh my god,” he hissed as his eyes danced across your body from your mouth to your core, unsure
where to look. You rubbed yourself through your panties so he could see your fingers work and
moaned against his fingers. “Stay right there,” he rushed out and pulled his fingers from your mouth
before he lifted his hips and rolled his boxer briefs down his thighs to expose his thick cock.

He hurried to return his fingers to your mouth where you greedily lapped them in as he gripped his
cock. His strokes were long and slow, like he was trying to pace himself. Your eyes were completely
drawn to the sight, pleased to no longer have to hide behind a door while spying on him. His
breathing was far from steady as his eyes focused on the way your fingers rolled over and pinched at
your hardened nipple through the fabric of your bra. You couldn’t help but moan against his fingers
again as your tongue twirled around them.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re fucking perfect. Take off your underwear.”

Your hands swept down your body to take off your panties and toss them to the side while you kept
sucking on his fingers, your eyes never leaving his face. You moved back to spread your knees in
front of him and let your hand fall back to work without the restriction of your underwear. He hissed,
a sharp intake of breath through his teeth, when you spread your lips for him to get a better view
while your fingers rolled against your clit. You could feel your arousal coat your fingers as you
moved towards your entrance.

“Yes, holy shit, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasped when he saw one of your fingers disappear into your
body. “Get yourself ready for my cock.” His strokes sped up along his cock and his chest heaved
nearly in sequence with the movement. With such coaxing it wasn’t long before you pushed another
finger into your entrance and felt the stretch it provided. You keened out a long moan against his
fingers, your eyes closed in the bliss, and your hips jerked in an attempt to greedily take more of your
digits.

You didn’t try to quiet yourself. The idea of the both of you masturbating in front of each other
proved to be too much for you to even consider it. Instead you moaned and whimpered endlessly, the
sound only muffled by his fingers until he pulled them from your mouth to cup his balls. Without his
hand dictating your position you could lean forward, one hand gripped to his thigh, and your mouth
on his. His lips were swollen from his nervously biting and pulling at them and the plump skin felt
soft against your own. Your lips moved from his to pepper kisses along his jawline and, once his
head tilted back to rest against the headboard as he tried to quiet and control his panting, you found
his neck and leaned in further in order to leave your own marks on him.

Your new position left your breasts to dangle over his cock. The tip and his hand bumped into them
with each stroke and if you timed it correctly with the thrusts of your own fingers into your body
then you could ensure that his head ran across the soft skin of your cleavage instead of the lace of
your bra. An idea flashed into your mind and you felt emboldened enough after his declaration of
how often you were in his thoughts to try it without mentioning it to him.

With one parting nip to his neck that caused him to curse under his breath you pulled away from him
and slipped your fingers out of your pussy with a whimper. He stared at you with his doe eyes, lips
parted in confusion, brows furrowed and yet his hand didn’t stop running against his length. You
brought your fingers, coated in your arousal, to your lips and ran your tongue against them with a sly
look in your eyes. “Ah fuck,” he grunted, “I need to fuck you.”

“I know. I want you to fuck me but first,” you said with a giggle and let the sentence hang in the air
as your hands moved to your back. You unclasped your bra and slid the straps down your shoulders
as you watched his eyes follow every movement while his own hands continued to work his cock.
You slid off the bed and kneeled next to the mattress, completely aware of him taking in your now
fully naked body as you moved. “Come over here,” you said and patted the edge of the bed.

He quirked an eyebrow but shuffled across the bed to where you wanted him. You pulled on the
boxer briefs that still clung to his thighs and dropped them to his ankles before you tossed them
somewhere in the room. You pulled his hand away from his cock and, without breaking eye contact,
lowered yourself to it to lick a stripe up his length. He gasped and even though he tried to hide it you
were certain you heard him moan when your tongue flicked against his head. His cock was heavy
against your tongue, the salty taste of his precum present in your mouth, as you took him in deeper.
He kicked his head back with a whispered, “holy shit,” and gripped the sheets of your bed. It was
nice to see him enjoy feeling your wet warmth around him but it wasn’t what you had in mind.

“I want to try something, if that’s okay with you,” you whispered when you pulled him from your
mouth, content with how wet he was. “I haven’t done it before though.”

His eyes flashed, piqued with curiosity, before he cupped your jaw, “I’ll try anything you want to.
Especially if I’m your first for it,” he added quickly when you licked a quick line up his length again.

You looked up at him with a bashful smile, “okay,” you breathed out. Your hands moved to your
breasts and you leaned into him. The stare between the two of you broke when you couldn’t
maintain it, your face flushed, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you squeezed your
breasts around his wet cock, surrounding it with your soft, warm skin.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook gasped but you didn’t have the confidence to look up and see his reaction.
It had taken all of your courage and your newly discovered assertiveness to take charge and ask for
something you had only seen in porn. Jungkook wouldn’t accept the lack of eye contact and gripped
your chin to lift your face to him. “You are unbelievable. I am so lucky,” he assured you as his
thumb ran across your cheek.

With that bit of comforting words you felt emboldened again and began lifting and lowering yourself
along his cock. He slid through your breasts and the friction of it caused him to hiss with each
movement but he kept his eyes glued to where the head of his cock disappeared in between your
flesh only to reappear, the tip an angry red color. “Ah,” he said with a breathy tone before he cleared
his throat to sound deeper, “spit on your tits, sweetheart.”

If your face was heated before you were positive that it was absolutely on fire after that. You weren’t
sure how were you supposed to resist when his voice sounded so low and rough and when he let go
of the sheets on the bed to grip your shoulders and thrust into your breasts you were absolutely
positive you didn’t have it in you to deny his request. Without wasting any more precious moments
you complyed and gathered the drool in your mouth before looking down at his cock sliding in and
out of the space allotted by your breasts and spitting your saliva down onto the scene.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he grunted and gripped your shoulders tighter as his thrusts sped up. You
squeezed your breasts together tighter to provide more friction, your fingers pinched at your nipples,
and you bit your lip as you stared up at him. His eyes were wide, almost manic looking, as he stared
unforgivingly at the sight before him. His bangs clung to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his
body shined in the dim light of the moon and street lamps filtered through your window. His fingers
danced across your shoulders as if he was contemplating something that you couldn’t understand
until you felt the space between his thumb and forefinger settle against the column of your throat. “Is
this okay?” His voice came out soft even though he didn’t slow his thrusts.

You nodded furiously, having been thinking about such a thing for most of the night, and rushed out
a desperate, “yes, please,” before he pushed down against your throat. He wasn’t as rough as Yoongi
and you were able to still breathe in shallow spurts but the knowledge that he had even tried such a
thing gave you hope that it would continue in your future encounters with him. His thrusts sped up as
he held you steady against him by your throat. His body was completely off the bed, his knees bent
to provide the angle he needed to reach.
“I’ve gotta stop,” he whined after a few minutes of nothing but his grunts and pants. “I’m gonna cum
before I’ve even gotten to fuck you.” He slid his cock out of your flesh and you noticed the way the
vein around it seemed to throb against the skin.

“Well we wouldn’t want that,” you said with a smirk as he grabbed your arms to lift you back to
standing.

He kissed you quickly, a mere peck on the lips, before he rushed past you to find his pants in the
dark. He struggled in a frantic and awkward fight with his limbs to get his unbuttoned dress shirt, the
last remaining piece of clothing he had on, off until he was finally free to throw it to the floor in
victory. You could hear him mutter obscenities to himself as he seemed to grab every piece of
clothing but the one he needed until finally you heard him nearly squeal, “yes!” He returned to you
as fast as he could and mumbled, “had to get a condom,” against your lips between long kisses. He
walked you back towards the bed until you both toppled against it and shuffled to get comfortable in
the middle.

It was strange how domestic the entire exchange was compared to your previous few months with
Yoongi. Everything felt sweet, warm, passionate, and still had an awkwardness to it that was
charming. The difference between him and Yoongi, the attention and praise, all somehow only made
you want him more. “Hurry,” you whined and pushed against his chest to get him away from you
and put on the condom.

He didn't hesitate or waste anymore time. He tore the package with his teeth as his spare hand
pumped his cock and as soon as the condom was free of the foil he rolled it down his length slowly,
completely aware that you were watching his every movement. He smiled at you when he had
finished and in that moment his smile completely lacked the cocky aura he usually carried and only
the genuinely excited young man remained in front of you. He crawled over top of you and kissed
your lips softly. “Ready?”

You bit your lip to try to hide your smile and nodded. With that he positioned himself at your
entrance and thrust into you with a slow and steady roll of his hips. He moaned as he entered you,
the feeling of the warmth of your walls finally surrounding him as you laid below with your hair
strewn over a pillow. You tensed with his intrusion and dug your nails into his biceps. He paused
over you and kissed the bridge of your nose where your brows had furrowed as your body adjusted
to his presence. “Are you okay?” His voice was soft and gentle, his body stilled while hovering
overtop of you.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” you whispered in encouragement and kissed his lips. “Keep going.”

He nodded and began rolling his hips against you, slowly speeding up his thrusts as moans fell from
your mouth. Your fingers roamed his biceps until you found his back and dug your fingers into his
unmarked skin. He hissed and one of his hands left its spot beside you and gripped your hip to hold
you in place as he slammed into you, losing what softness he had before.

“Oh my fucking god,” you moaned as your back arched off the bed and your eyes rolled away from
him and towards the ceiling.

“You feel amazing,” he said in between grunts. “So much better than I imagined.”

You vaguely wondered if Yeona could hear the two of you, or worse some neighbor being woken
up by your moans, but you couldn't be too concerned when Jungkook shifted on the bed to balance
on his knees. Both of his hands swept down to your ass and he dug his fingers in to grab handfuls of
your flesh as he lifted your hips off the bed. You let out a sound somewhere between a yelp and a
scream when his thrusts turned rough and hard, aimed at reaching the deepest part of you that he
could.

“I'm not going to last,” he groaned. The sound was part moan and part frustration. He finally had you
all to himself and his body wouldn't cooperate. Weeks of fantasies were finally possible and his body
had turned traitorous.

You couldn't have cared less because the realization that Jungkook, the cocky, brash, and young man
who had pursued you for weeks was close to coming undone so soon after he had actually entered
you. It was oddly complimentary. “Please cum for me, Kookie,” you cooed and heard him hiss in
response. “I want you to cum just for me.”

“God dammit,” he muttered as his hips began to stutter and thrust erratically into you. “Where,
sweetheart? Tell me where?”

You didn't have much time to think or consider your options and instead begged for the first place
that came to mind. “On my pussy. Please cum on my pussy, Jungkook.”

“Fuck,” he shouted into the dark room and with one, two, three more rapid thrusts he pulled out of
you, dropped your hips back to the bed, and jerked his cock on top of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he
growled in quick succession until you felt three hot streams of his cum land across your pussy and
mound. You moaned as he stared at your pussy and the streaks of his release that covered it. “Come
here,” he urged and held out a hand for you to grab onto and pull yourself into a seated position. “On
your knees,” he panted and when you had positioned yourself just the way he wanted he used his
hand to scoop the cum that had landed on your mound and inserted his covered fingers into your still
needy pussy.

“Oh my god,” you moaned and let your eyes roll into the back of your head as your hands searched
out his shoulders to ground yourself to.

He thrust his fingers inside of you, immediately opting to use two of his long digits to shove his cum
back into you. Your hips rolled into his fingers until you were essentially bouncing on his hand,
desperate for more. “That’s it, sweetheart,” Jungkook praised in a low voice. “Fuck yourself on my
fingers.”

You didn’t realize you could snap your hips harder against his hand but his words compelled your
body to react. “J-Jungkook,” you moaned and opted to drop one of your hands from his shoulders to
rub furiously at your clit.

“Oh that’s it, baby,” he growled, the sound a deep, low, vibrating voice that caused you to moan
again and dig your nails into his shoulder. His eyes were focused on you, they roamed from where
his fingers disappeared into your cum covered pussy to your breasts as they bounced with each jerk
of your hips and finally settled on your open mouth and the sounds that poured out from it as your
head tilted away from him, your neck exposed and open for him. “You’re so fucking beautiful. I am
a lucky man to have you fucking yourself on my fingers, aren’t I?” You whined as your body grew
closer to the edge, your fingers easily slipping over your clit with his sticky cum covering it. “You’ve
been staring at my hands all night,” he whispered in a slow and torturous drawl as he leaned into
your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin that was already covered in dark marks from him. “I bet you
love this, huh? Do you like finally getting to feel my fingers fill you up?” He pushed a third finger
into you without warning and grabbed at one of your breasts to grope at the flesh and pull at your
nipple.

“Jungkook!” You knew you had yelled his name and for the briefest moment you considered the
reprimanding Yeona would give you in the morning but then you felt the tightly wound coil snap in
your lower stomach. “I-I’m gonna cum,” you cried as your hips jerked wildly, your hand rubbed
almost erratically at your swollen, cum covered clit.

“Yes,” Jungkook whispered and his hand left your breast to grab at your neck and bring you closer
to him so he could feel your heartbeat race through your body. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum all
over my hand.”

You felt his fingers push into the side of your neck, could feel the sticky sweat of his body pressed
against yours, but most of all you felt him curl his fingers into you and with that you fell off the edge.
You cried out his name again before your body stuttered against him, your hand on his shoulder
retracted it’s nails from his skin in lieu to shake wildly. Your chin was nestled on his shoulder and, in
an effort to quiet your screams you bit into the contoured muscle, faint teeth marks would be left in
his skin. Your chest heaved against him as he whispered quiet words of praise that you couldn’t hear
due to the blood rushing in your ears.

When your body had stopped shaking against him he pulled his fingers from you and brought them
to his lips. His tongue flicked out against them, one by one, as he cleaned himself of the mess. You
had to turn your eyes away from the sight for fear of the coil tightening in your stomach again. He
chuckled when you looked away and fell against the bed with an audible, “oof”, and a sigh.

You collapsed next to him in a panting mess, your head not even reaching the pillow. He chuckled
weakly, his own breath ragged and haggard, and pulled you up to the top of the bed so that your
head rested against the pillow. “You are amazing,” he said as he wrapped his arms around you and
pulled you into his sweaty body. Your back stuck against his chest and his breath swept across your
neck before his lips found your bare shoulders and left soft kisses across the skin.

It felt strange to have a man cuddle you in your own bed after sex. The feeling of his arms around
you was comforting after months of cold indifference. At any other time the heat between your
bodies would have been uncomfortable but your body felt so weak and your heart more full than it
had for quite some time that you couldn’t fight the way your eyes drooped. “You weren’t so bad
yourself,” you cooed back.

“You-uh,” he started then cleared his throat. “You wouldn’t mind if I spent the night, would you?”
You took a moment to smile into the dark of your room, something he couldn’t see and he took the
silence as a dismissal or hesitation. “It’s just, uh, because it’s late and I’m really exhausted,” he
rushed out.

You giggled and rolled over in his arms to face him. “Kookie,” you said softly and watched in the
moonlight as his doe eyes met yours, “I want you to stay.”

He paused and let the words hang in the air for a moment before he tightened his hold on you.
“Really?”

You bit your lip and nodded. “If you want to, that is.”

“I do!” He spoke quickly then tried to correct himself. “I mean, I would if that’s fine with you.”

His sudden bashfulness was endearing. He usually portrayed himself as cocky, confident, the kind of
man who acted first and thought about the repercussions later so seeing a side of him that many
might consider weak or nervous was sweet. “I’m so tired,” you said with a yawn.

He smiled, something you could only faintly see in the dim light, before he moved in and left a kiss
on your forehead. “Get some sleep,” he whispered before he placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

Your eyes closed as you took in the musky smell of sex that filled the room, the scent of his cologne,
 and his breath as it hit your face. It was like some kind of dream to be able to drift off to sleep with
someone’s arms around you, someone who clearly cared for you. After a few minutes of silence his
breathing settled down to a slow and rhythmic pattern. You assumed he had fallen asleep until you
heard him whisper, “that’s how you deserve to be treated.”

Your eyes bolted open but you remained quiet. If he thought you were asleep you were fine with
letting him continue thinking that. The last thing you wanted to discuss after such a wonderful night
was Yoongi in any form or fashion. You wanted to put him behind you, to move on without looking
back. Bringing him up at the end of the night left a sour taste in your mouth. It was unnecessary and
as it settled in your mind in the quiet hours of the early morning, the dawn starting to peek out behind
the surrounding city scape, you wondered if it wasn’t a sign of his age.

When you awoke the room was cold again, devoid of the heat that had filled it the night before and
yet another sign of your precarious financial situation. You stirred and stretched in the sunlight that
bathed the room, your body sore and your head still foggy from the excessive alcohol. You noticed
almost immediately that Jungkook wasn’t in bed and as you took in the surroundings of the room
you saw that his clothes were missing from the heaps on the floor. Your stomach twisted with a
nervous knot.

You hurriedly threw on some clothes and rushed out of your room, sure you would find him long
gone. Only Jungkook was there, standing at your kitchen counter as he read through papers spread
across your kitchen counter. He looked over at you when you stumbled out of your room and held
up a cup of coffee as a greeting to you before he shuffled the papers back into their haphazard stacks
amongst the forgotten junk mail, bills, and newspapers. “Tell me how it’s possible that you look so
good after just waking up?” His voice was low and rough with the early hour but his smirk was still
present. His dress shirt from the night before was noticeably wrinkled and his hair was a mess but he
still seemed to exude that youthful, effervescent glow.

“I thought-,” you started but stopped when his brow quirked in response. You pulled against your
shirt and tried to change the subject by starting again. “How can you say that when I look like this? I
didn’t even wash off my makeup last night.”

He opened his arms to invite you in and when you pressed into his body you could still faintly smell
the scent of his cologne and the hint of musk from the night before. “Maybe that’s why you look so
beautiful,” he whispered in your ear and tightened his hands around your hips and brought his lips to
yours, “because I know that I’m the reason you look that way.”

You smiled into his kiss and only hours later did you remember the file that Mrs. Min had given you,
the one full of Yoongi’s scandalous history, had been on the kitchen counter mixed in with all the
junk mail and old newspapers. There was no way for you to be sure what he had seen.

Chapter End Notes

Originally posted on Tumblr by ellieljade as Mr. Min- Chapter 06

 Chapter 07
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Weeks had passed since he had last spoken to you. He hoped that the passage of time, the distance
between you two after he ordered your desk to be moved, the changing of the seasons, or the
repeated reminders of your growing relationship with Jeon would cure the acute ache that seemed to
always settle in his chest when you came to mind. The snow that had fallen from the sky the night he
followed you on your date had long since melted. The weather had taken a turn for the warmer and,
oh, Yoongi still longed for you.

Over the weeks it had become marginally easier to not think about you, so long as you were
nowhere in sight. He had taken to residing—absolutely not hiding—in his office during work hours
and could no longer remember the last time the blinds that covered his entire wall had been open. It
had taken only a day for him to realize the temptation to gaze out the window at where your desk
used to be was far too great for a man so weak. His mother’s proclamation that only weak people let
their feelings get in the way of success played on a cruel loop in his head for nearly a week after he
finally admitted that he had succumbed to you. He could never decide if he was proud or terrified
about becoming the man she had warned him about. Perhaps it was both.

He had, unfortunately, been made well aware of your budding romance with Jeon. The whole floor
buzzed with the gossip and it left little room for him to hide except for the sanctuary of his office. His
first assurance that you and the cocky younger man had grown far closer was when you both
showed up to work with matching bruises along your necks. You had worn a turtleneck sweater to
try and cover the marks but Jeon brazenly flaunted them. He had shown up at Yoongi’s office under
the guise of getting documents signed but, judging by the way he kept rubbing his neck and cocking
his head to the side to expose the skin to the lights, he had ulterior motives.

Yoongi had done well to ignore his boasting but when he walked into the break room one afternoon
that spring to find Jeon and Minsung huddled around a table he nearly lost it. Their conversation had
been quiet, perhaps even hushed, before Yoongi walked in. Suddenly Jeon let out a loud laugh and
said, “I’ll be sure to tell her that when I pick her up tonight.” He didn’t need to specify who he was
talking about, it was clear by the way he caught Yoongi’s eye as the older man filled his coffee cup
that the conversation was for his benefit.

Minsung, for his part, played along like a supportive friend and quipped, “Are you even going to
make it to your dinner reservations tonight?”

Yoongi didn’t miss the way Jeon leaned back in his chair, one arm casually stretched out across the
back of an empty seat, his legs spread wide and relaxed, as if he owned the goddamn place. “Not if I
have my way,” he said with no less smug confidence than Yoongi would have expected. “Not that
she’s able to keep her hands off of me either. It’s already hard enough to control her when we’re at
work, can you imagine what she’s like outside of here?”

Yoongi turned towards the two employees and lifted his mug to Jeon, “Enjoy your evening.” The
words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He nearly made it out the door before Jeon replied, “Don’t worry. I will.” Yoongi didn’t have to
catch the younger man’s face to know that his obnoxious smirk had appeared.

While Jeon continued to appear wherever Yoongi was, you, on the other hand, had all but
disappeared. From his office, in the rare instance that the blinds were open, he was unable to see
your new desk. His only chance at stealing glances came when he was on the floor. In the first week
after your new placement, he had found himself making excuses for why he needed to leave the
office. The frequent trips did little but give him a chance to see you for a few brief moments and,
once he had been called out on them by an oblivious supervisor, he realized how obvious and
pathetic he was acting.

He had heard from the private investigator that Hoseok had hired to follow Yoongi’s mother that she
had stopped by your place early one morning. Hoseok, upon hearing the news, immediately called
Yoongi to relay the information. Yoongi’s throat tightened and his grip on the phone was iron clad as
Hoseok rushed through the notes the private investigator had given him. Unfortunately, they only
revealed that she had left her home and showed up at your apartment and the length of time she
stayed with you. There was no way for the investigator, Hoseok, or Yoongi to know what she was
doing there. After that call, Hoseok seemed to take a particular interest in keeping tabs on your
whereabouts and how they related to Mrs. Min’s. It became increasingly more difficult for Yoongi to
get ahold of Hoseok for anything more than the briefest of conversations and when Yoongi asked
directly about you his friend’s tone adopted a sad note before he told him that he knew nothing more
—though he always promised to work harder.

So, though it was initially a shock, it wasn’t all that surprising when you strolled into the restaurant
his mother had abruptly invited him to one afternoon that spring.

His breath hitched in his throat when he saw you following a hostess towards the table. His eyes
narrowed as he dropped them to his drink so as to focus on keeping a stoic face in front of his
conniving mother. It wasn’t a coincidence, that much he was sure of. His mother appeared
unbothered by your sudden appearance but Yoongi was all too aware of the curl in her lips—a cruel
and taunting smile. Only when the hostess appeared at the table and announced your arrival did she
finally relent and look your way. “Oh, dear, I’m glad you’ve arrived.”

Your own eyes flashed to her only for a moment before settling onto Yoongi. A scowl was etched
on your face as you took your seat at the table next to Mrs. Min. “My pleasure,” you said with a
gracious smile but Yoongi was positive, though he hadn’t seen it in weeks, that your smile was much
tighter than usual.

He shifted in his seat before he caught his mother’s eyes on him—studying him, no doubt. “I’m
surprised to see you here.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Mr. Min,” you replied, curt yet polite. Yoongi tried not to stare at you, tried
not to notice the wrinkle between your eyebrows as you studied him, tried not to look at the faint
mark on your neck just below your jaw, and definitely tried not to think about how it got there. He
wasn’t successful in any of those endeavors.

Mrs. Min smiled as she sipped her water. Her eyes darted between the two of you but neither took
the time to notice. “You two sure are chummy,” she said with a chuckle and a lie that fell flat. It was
never a comfortable occasion around his mother but your presence had added a heavy weight on his
chest. It was the result of unsaid words, apologies never voiced, feelings that came to light too late,
and chances long since lost. “That will make this all the easier then.” Her voice perked up to the tone
she usually reserved for wooing potential investors or for when the media got a little too close to
discovering one of the many family secrets. Yoongi pulled his eyes back to his mother with forced
indifference. “I think you are well aware that your life has become a little too hectic.”

“It has?” He kept his voice steady, cold, indifferent but his fingers pulled and played with the
tablecloth, just out of his mother’s sight.
“Yes, dear. I think the whole company has noticed by now that your mind isn’t focused on your
work but, rather, on other things.” Her voice trailed off but Yoongi knew exactly what she meant—it
was hard not to when you sat right next to her. “There’s no need to be embarrassed about admitting
your shortcomings in front of anyone at this table, dear. We are all only human, of course. We’ve all
spent enough time with you to know you aren’t perfect.”

He didn’t miss the implication but chose to ignore it. An all too familiar heat began to set boil to his
blood. His mother was toying with him, dangling you right in front of him as a taunt, and the idea
began to set his blood boiling. “Right,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

“I think you would benefit from having some help, don't you? I think having someone who could
work closely with you and pick up on some of the more mundane details that you are too
preoccupied to notice would be beneficial for us all.” She paused and waited for Yoongi to say
something but he knew better. He could see where the conversation was headed and wasn't going to
do anything to speed it along. “They wouldn’t be able to handle anything too sensitive, of course.
That would still need to be on your plate, dear. All of the delicate details would need your trained
eye and with some added help maybe you will be able to focus on them more diligently.”

The whole idea was so obviously transparent that Yoongi had no choice but to scoff. Under normal
circumstances, his mother would never trust someone else to handle the company's details, delicate or
not, and she certainly wouldn't tolerate someone without experience and yet she had invited you to
the lunch. “And who would you have in mind for such a position?”

Her lips curled upwards as she grasped your hand from wherever it had been under the table to
triumphantly raise it so Yoongi could see the way your fingers interlocked with hers. “Well who else,
dear?”

Your eyes bore into Yoongi’s with an aggressive stare, as if you were waiting for—maybe even
daring—him to challenge her suggestion. Why you would trust someone in his family again after the
way he had treated you was beyond him. “Ah, I figured as much,” he finally said and forced his
voice to remain steady and even. “I would appreciate the help. Thank you for being so thoughtful,
mother.”

“Of course, dear. I thought that you two would get along well. After all, you’ve spent so much time
together already.”

Yoongi refused to move his eyes from his mother’s stare even as the conversation fell silent. He
wished she would just admit what she knew so that all of the cards could be on the table but it wasn’t
her style. “When her desk was outside of my office we occasionally found the opportunity to speak
to each other,” he said with a cold tone.

“Of course. I’m sure there have been other opportunities for you two to get to know each other as
well.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw how you stiffened and how your gaze fell to the table without a
word. You didn’t try to deny her implications and he wondered just what his mother had offered you
to be so submissive to her. Her usual method was blackmail and the idea of it sent a chill down his
spine. He swallowed, tried to push the thought out of his head but found that the tightness of his
throat only settled in his stomach. If that was the case, if her old habits were to be believed then it left
a question he didn’t want to face. Could he have intervened? Perhaps he had been too busy
obsessing over competing with Jeon to notice a weakness in your life, your past, somewhere in your
personality that his mother could sink her teeth into and exploit until you became her puppet.

Once again he was reminded that your life would have been infinitely better had he never been a part
of it. You shouldn’t have to face the wrath of his mother. That was his cross to bear.

“Is there anything else, mother?”

Mrs. Min dabbed her napkin against her crimson lips and smiled at you a little too kindly for
Yoongi’s liking before she turned back to him. “One more thing, dear. She is to report directly to
me.”

“What?” Yoongi tried to hide the indignation in his voice but he caught the way the corner of your
lips curled upwards with his obvious frustration.

“We think it would be best if you aren't burdened any more than you already are,” you spoke in a
saccharine voice that sounded nothing like the you he liked to think he knew.

“You see, this way you only receive help. Not extra work. She has graciously offered her assistance
to you and I have extended that generosity by taking the responsibility of her care into my own
hands.”

If there had been any ground he could stand on—without chancing his mother suspecting that he had
willingly strayed further from the family then she knew—to deny her offer, he couldn't find it. His
mind twisted and turned, tried to wrack free any odd thought or fact that he could use in his defense,
but whether it was because she had cornered him or that he was just too flustered being so close to
you for the first time in weeks he had come up empty. “That's very kind of you both. Thank you for
this opportunity.” The words felt bitter and heavy on his tongue but he forced them out. He was no
stranger to complying with his mother's will.

“Fantastic,” she said with excitement so heavily feigned that Yoongi nearly rolled his eyes before he
caught himself. She dabbed her lips again though she had nothing more than water at the meeting
before she excused herself with a curt, “I must be going. I trust the two of you can work out the
specifics.”

Yoongi’s mind lingered on the thought of where she may be going, of what could be so important
that she would leave the meeting so abruptly, but you didn't let him play with his curiosity for long.
“I’ll start tomorrow.”

His eyebrows raised at that. It seemed either the time away from him or your new found power
thanks to his mother had emboldened you. Perhaps Jeon was the cause for your newfound
confidence but he hoped, both selfishly and selflessly, that you had found it yourself without his
help. He was reminded of the version of you that had stormed into his office to demand a date with
him all those months ago. It wasn't the first time the sad twinge of regret had settled into his chest
with the memory. He had often wondered how differently things might be if he had just taken you up
on your offer then for a date instead of callously debasing you to your sexual worth. “I suspect I'm
not in a position to disagree with you,” Yoongi said with a twisted and angry smile.

You scowled and spit, “You're not.” Without saying another word you stood from the table and
pushed your chair out of the way. He nearly tripped over his own feet to try to keep up with you but
managed to grab your elbow and spin you around to face him again. “I have somewhere to be. What
do you need?” Your voice was harsh and dismissive as you yanked your arm out of his grasp.

“Why are you doing this?” The question came out before he could stop himself. It wasn’t the right
time, and he wasn’t sure if there would ever be one at all, but he couldn’t keep the words from
spilling out of his mouth regardless.

Perhaps he imagined the way your expression softened. Maybe your brows hadn’t unfurrowed and
made the wrinkles between your eyes disappear, it could be that he imagined the falter in your glare,
but when you spoke your voice lacked its rushed nature and the dismissive tone it had carried the
whole meeting. “I need this.”

“Why?”

Your eyes pulled away from him but he couldn’t discern a reason why. They danced across the
restaurant, he could practically see the gears of your mind twisting to come up with an answer to give
him and Yoongi was certain it wouldn’t be honest. “I need the money.”

In hindsight, it wasn’t the right move to make but Yoongi laughed—a mocking, derisive sound that
held no joy. His tongue poked against his cheek and he rolled his eyes. He leaned in closer to you, as
if the scent of your perfume lured him in, and raised a single eyebrow before he whispered, “Don’t
worry, dollface. I’m sure you are going to be well compensated for your troubles.”

Any softness or vulnerability that had shown on your face disappeared until a firm scowl settled in its
wake. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Try to keep your mind on your job, hmm?” You managed to quirk
your lips into a cruel smirk as an ugly pause surrounded the two of you.

Yoongi nearly let the moment pass but couldn’t help the slip of his tongue just as you were about to
leave him behind yet again. Later, he would remember the way your face fell and that same
vulnerability shined through again, the fear in your eyes didn’t go unnoticed, and he settled in his
mind that you weren’t entirely under her control. You still had your reservations and that gave him
the slightest bit of hope to hold on to.

“The next time my mother shows up at your apartment, make sure you say hi to her for me.”

Whatever vulnerability he had seen at the restaurant was kept under lock and key the next day. You
stormed into his office without knocking and when Yoongi scolded you for your rudeness you
merely replied, “Why don’t you go call your mom and tattle on me, then?” If he had counted on the
small sliver of hope he had found at the end of the meeting in the restaurant being a sign of things to
come, he was sorely mistaken.

If possible, you were even more cold to Yoongi. You sat in his office for several hours a day and
took notes while he was on conference calls and tried not to pay attention to the love bites that
peeked out of the collar of your blouse. You refused to speak to him unless it was about business
matters and the few times you had it was terse and harsh, like you wanted your words to hurt him as
much as he had hurt you. You seemed to be completely unaware that it wasn’t your words that hurt
him, it was knowing that the reason you were so closed off and defensive was because of him.
Hoseok and Yoojung were right and over the time he was around you he was reminded of that.
Someone like him didn’t deserve someone like you.

The weeks blended together, lost somewhere in the rain and blossoming flowers. It was a lovely time
of year but Yoongi spent most of it wishing the season would hurry up with its torturous crawl and
give him some kind of resolution, a little bit of peace. Hoseok had all but cut off communication with
Yoongi, citing his increased workload. He only ever responded to Yoongi’s calls through text and
had abandoned the weekly meetings between the two to go over the investigator’s notes. The two
had agreed to meet if the investigator noticed another strange visit or behavior from Mrs. Min. After
all, thanks to his mother, Yoongi’s own work life had become more stressful since you had started
your new placement.

His mother had successfully found a way to make him lament spending any time with you. Every
day was another exercise in self-control and accepting his anguish. You were within reach, he could
see and speak to you to his heart’s content for once in the entire sordid affair, and he didn’t even
have to feign reasons to pull you into his office. But it was his turn to face constant rejection. You
refused to speak to him, wouldn’t even meet his stare unless absolutely necessary, and he had to live
with that every single day.

Sometime in March, a few weeks after your new placement, the two of you were cooped up in his
office, loudly ignoring each other as Yoongi took a conference call. He could feel your eyes on him
more than usual but he didn’t dare to return the gesture. He was used to you focusing on the phone
or your laptop perched on the edge of his desk during these calls. He was used to your eyes landing
anywhere other than him. Under your stare, he became hyper-aware of each breath he took and
every inch of space his body claimed. As soon as he ended the call he turned towards you and tilted
his head. “Is there something you want to say?”

He didn’t mean for his voice to come out so harshly but you took it in stride. “Your roots are
growing out,” you said without any obvious interest in your voice. Your head was tilted to the side
like a curious pet staring at its owner, your mouth slightly parted while you studied him.

Yoongi was prepared to be snapped at or to be insulted but he hadn’t prepared for an off-handed
statement about his hair. “What?” If he had had more time to think about it he would have tried to
mirror the blank stare that you possessed, he would have liked to have appeared so disinterested, but
as it was his hand flew to his hair instinctively, like it was trying to cover the black strands that bled
from his scalp. A tense ball of shame lodged in his chest before it tried to work its way up his throat.
“I-I-I just haven’t, uh, had the time to take care of it.”

Something clicked in your mind, Yoongi could see the shift in your thoughts through your eyes. The
blank stare left and your eyes dragged from his hair down to meet his own. You leaned forward in
your seat, Yoongi figured as an attempt to distract him from your obvious interest in his life by way
of your cleavage, and said in a much softer, kinder voice than you had used with him in months,
“You haven’t had the time? What’s going on with you?”

This was territory Yoongi understood. It was comfortable for him. You were out of your depth in
these waters and Yoongi was a shark waiting for the first sign of blood. He leaned back in his chair
and propped his head on one of his hands, his elbow pushed into the armrest in the position that had
only become too familiar to him over his lifetime as a Min. “You seem so interested,” he said with a
playful tone.

You scoffed and sat back in your chair, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“It’s just such an odd question for you to ask. It’s almost as if you are searching for something.
Maybe to report back to someone else?”

Your mouth settled into a firm line and you snapped your laptop shut before you stood up with a
condescending laugh. “I told you, don’t flatter yourself. I’m not interested in your life for my own
curiosity or for anyone else’s. I just wondered when you had gotten so careless but even that thought
bores me.” Yoongi focused on keeping his face still but he felt the edges of his lips curl downwards.
He was always so easily cast aside. He knew you would be harsh but all the preparation did little to
actually numb the sting of your indifference. “Your mother would probably want me to tell you that
your hair doesn’t become someone in your position,” you said and he watched your mouth slide into
a cruel, lop-sided smile. “It looks awfully tacky.”

He wondered if you noticed that the next day his hair was freshly dyed back to its natural black but,
of course, you never made mention of it. It was foolish to hope.

Somewhere in the middle of spring, you seemed to warm up to him in no way that was meaningful
and Yoongi had done well to tend to any hope that threatened to root in his chest. He squashed and
smothered it as soon as the ever-present ache he carried for you threatened to ease. Hope was too
dangerous a thing to carry. It would cloud his mind and, as it stood, you were acting as a spy for his
mother. Beyond any other reasons he couldn’t risk slipping any information to you that he didn’t
want her to know. If she figured out that Yoongi wanted to destroy the Min empire she would, no
doubt, retaliate and no matter how much he thought about it he couldn’t imagine how she would do
so.

Your interactions together had lost the sharp edges that threatened to gouge each other with each
quip. The day had to come when you anger would ebb and your conversations with him would
lighten to something merely cordial. He knew deep down he shouldn’t have been enthralled by that
prospect. He knew hope was a dangerous weapon, it was a double-edged sword he was too scared
to wield, but your ever-lingering presence in his office, down to the hints of your perfume that
remained even when you were long gone, all pulled him back in towards temptation.

He should have known it was only a matter of time before the small solace he’d gathered blew up in
his face.

The knock on his office door was rapid, forceful, and before Yoongi could even mumble out
permission to enter Jeon had already flung the door open. He stormed across the room and slammed
a single sheet of paper onto Yoongi’s desk with a gruff, “I need your signature.”

“For what?” Yoongi asked without letting his eyes fall from Jeon’s face and his furrowed brows.

The younger man’s lips pulled into a thin line before he huffed out, “I need a new chair for my
desk.”

The explanation was so bizarre that Yoongi had to glance at the paper to confirm that the flimsy
excuse was accurate. “And you came to me for this? You could’ve gotten this approved by your
supervisor.”

“Yeah, well,” he mumbled and looked around the room as his voice trailed off.

Yoongi couldn’t fight back his smirk as he signed the document for the younger man and handed it
back to him with a smug smile. Jeon stood his ground with the paper firmly gripped in his fist, his
scowl directed right at Yoongi. “Is there something else you need to speak to me about? Or are you
content to stick with that lousy excuse to get in here?”

Jeon’s tongue darted out to lick at his lips before he rolled it into the side of his cheek. “No, that’s it.”

Yoongi paused, tried to give the other man time to change his answer or to leave, but he refused to
do either. “She’s not here, Jeon,” he finally sighed but the twisted smile on his face didn’t budge.

“I’m surprised. You two have been spending so much time together lately I figured you were joined
at the hip.”

Jeon’s jealousy was misplaced. Nothing sordid or even vaguely flirtatious had taken place between
the two of you. He had merely picked up on the polite nature of your conversations. You wanted
nothing to do with him, you had simply grown to be tired of carrying so much resentment. A part of
Yoongi, one he couldn’t quite ignore, thrived knowing that your boyfriend—because he had heard
you refer to him with such a title several times—had noticed the warmer conversations the two of
you had. Somewhere inside of him, a flame, driven by the hope that refused to die, constantly
burned. It was stubborn, at times painful, and, in the end, futile.

“She’s acting as my secretary, Jeon. I’m sure she’s told you.” He cleared his throat before he forced
himself to add, “It’s nothing more than that.”

The other man’s eyes honed in on Yoongi’s in a sharp glare. “I don’t need you to reassure me. I’m
not worried.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course. She has me. We’re together now. You do know that, right?” Jeon asked and let one end
of his lips curl upwards as Yoongi slowly nodded. “There’s no reason she would want you over
me.”

That all too common ball of self-hatred rolled around in Yoongi’s belly but over the past few months
since the company party he had learned to expect it whenever your boyfriend was boasting. There
was a time, not too long ago, that you would’ve chosen him over Jeon. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew
that the time had passed but at one point he had been the one you wanted most. As it was, the best he
could hope for now was a passing smile or maybe a short conversation without being snapped at. He
leaned back in his chair and with a dismissive flick of his wrist said, “Then why are you here? You
could have gotten that request signed by any supervisor on the floor. Why did you come to me?”

“So how did you do it, huh?” Jeon asked and tilted his head to the side. “How’d you get her to act
chummy with you again? How’d you get her to act so damn nice to you that quickly?”

“Well, I didn’t do it as some kind of play for her if that’s what you think.”

“I do.”

Yoongi chuckled and shook his head. “All I’ve done is try to treat her like a real person for once. I
am not trying to get between the two of you. I’m just trying to make her new assignment as my
secretary easier on her.”

“Yeah, well do it without flirting with her, yeah?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the request but the sound came out more aggravated and annoyed than
happy. “I don’t know why I’m surprised, I already had you pegged as the possessive kind.”

“Takes one to know one, huh?” Jeon spat back before Yoongi could continue his thought.

He had a special ability to get under Yoongi’s skin quicker than most. The kid knew just where to
strike to hit a nerve. In a different universe, Yoongi might have even taken Jeon under his wing to
mentor him, to hone and sharpen that ability into something deadly. But life was nothing but cruel
and it was Yoongi’s lot to pay for his mistakes at the hand of a veritable child with a jealous streak.
“I haven’t been flirting with her, we’ve only been working together. Don’t misunderstand me, Jeon. I
haven’t been interfering with your relationship because I don’t want to, not because you don’t want
me to. You are my employee. You don’t give me orders.”

The younger man smiled wide, let his teeth show as he played with the cuffs on his sleeve and
adjusted his tie. “And what if that changes?”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed and any hints of his earlier laughter vanished from his lips. “Why would
it?”

Jeon’s smile fell back into a smug smirk. He stalked towards the desk without breaking eye contact
and leaned over the wood until he was within mere inches of Yoongi’s face. In a quiet, measured
voice he hissed, “Secrets always catch up to us, Mr. Min. Don’t you have a few more skeletons in
your closet than most?”
A terrible silence overtook the two, interrupted only by the forceful pelting of rain impinging against
the windows. It was like the calm before the storm. The last breath of sleep before being awoken by
a screeching alarm. The last second before an explosion.

Yoongi felt the quiet sit heavy around him, a certain charge in the air. He watched a vein in Jeon's
neck bulge against his skin and pound with each rhythmic beat of his heart. There was an urgent
sense of rage that bubbled in Yoongi's chest. He wanted to snap and yell and threaten the kid with
his own retaliation but, instead, he sighed deeply and let one hand grip the edge of his desk until his
knuckles were white. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said in a measured, even voice.

Jeon clicked his tongue, his sideways grin grew wider as he tilted his head the way an innocent
puppy would. "We all make mistakes, sir, but unlike most of us, you have gotten away with yours.
Anyone else would be in jail for killing a man."

The words hung in the air only for a moment before Yoongi hissed, ”Get out."

"Doesn't seem fair, does it?"

The rage in Yoongi's chest sharpened. It tore and gouged at him, trying to find a way out, a release,
someone to attack. His nostrils flared as he stood from his seat and repeated in a stern voice, only a
fraction or two from yelling, "I said get out."

Jeon pushed himself up from the desk and nodded, "Okay. I heard you." He grabbed the form he
had gotten signed and walked towards the door with Yoongi on his heels. "You're so tense, Mr.
Min," he mocked as his boss opened the door to usher him out.

It took all of Yoongi’s willpower not to attack him, to keep his composure. He wanted to hurl threats
and insults at him but he knew it would do no good. Something like that would only serve to fuel
Jeon’s anger, perhaps even encourage him to act recklessly. As soon as the younger man stepped
foot out of the office, he spun on his heel and cast a sly smile. “You act like you have something to
hide. It'd be a real shame if any of that got out, huh? I imagine,” he said with a confident, torturous
drawl to his voice, “that would probably turn your whole world upside down. Murder is a big
charge. I bet the company wouldn't want to have someone with that hanging over their head sitting in
the CEO’s seat.” He blinked repeatedly with his big, doe eyes. He had the audacity to feign
innocence while attempting to blackmail his own boss.

The rage that he had fought back all but disappeared. In its wake there was a searing pain, one he
had grown too comfortable with since the winter. A flame—one that sometimes burned high and at
others low, but always steadily branding his skin with your name—slowly working him into a being
of ash and dust, finally engulfed him whole.

All at once it hit Yoongi. He finally saw past himself and realized that he wasn't the only one in
harm’s way because of Jeon’s campaign against him. His mother, no doubt, wouldn't like Yoongi's
past being in the hands of someone as rash and hot-headed as him. She would want to strike, to
eliminate the threat before it got out of hand, and more often than not her preferred method was to
attack the things and people her enemies held closest to them. For Jeon, undoubtedly, that meant you.

Without thinking about the ramifications, the eyes that might be watching from their desks, the gossip
that might get tossed around the office, he reached out and wrapped his hand around Jeon’s tie and
pulled the man back towards him. The grin dissolved from the younger man’s face. His eyes
widened and his mouth opened to say something but Yoongi didn't give him the chance. “Do you
realize what you are walking into? This isn't some game. You aren't messing with me here, you are
messing with my mother and do you know what that means? If she gets one whiff that you are up to
something that could threaten the company she will come after everything and everyone that you
care about.” He paused to gauge the other man’s reaction but nothing showed on his face. His lips
were in a thin line, his eyes narrowed to slits, but he remained silent. “She won't attack you directly.
She will make your life a living hell. She will take away all the things that make it worth living. I
don't know about your history or your life but I do know that you have a girlfriend you care about,
right?” Jeon didn't say anything. Yoongi shook his tie, jostled the other man around, and repeated in
a louder, more urgent voice. “You care about her, right? That's not just some act you are putting on
to get to me, is it?”

“No,” he whispered.

“Then act like it! Do you think it's easy for me to stand by and watch you with her?” He paused and
took the moment to swallow his feelings and get back on track. “Act like you give a damn about her
and keep all of it to yourself!”

Jeon wrapped his hand around Yoongi’s and pulled at his fingers until his tie was released from his
grasp. He cocked his head and lowered his eyes as he straightened his tie. “Why would you start
worrying about her now? You certainly didn't before. Besides,” he said in a low voice, the edge of
his mouth curling into a sly smile, “why would she be in danger when your mother is the one who
gave her that information in the first place?”

Yoongi stilled and blinked at Jeon. Of course, she did. The trip to your apartment, your sudden new
position, your boyfriend mysteriously having blackmail on him. He should've known his mother was
involved. It dawned on him all at once that blackmail wasn’t the only reason you might have taken
the new position. Perhaps you accepted it out of a need for revenge. Maybe he had hurt you so badly
you wanted a piece of him in return.

If Jeon revealed Yoongi’s past to anyone that could damage the company with it then his mother
would undoubtedly know that you had leaked it. You were in more danger than he had realized.

“Is everything okay?” Your voice was quieter than usual but once Yoongi pulled his eyes away from
Jeon and towards your face he saw your own gaze flick across the work floor and all the head turned
to watch the argument.

“Of course, sweetheart,” your boyfriend, Yoongi was only too aware, said and wrapped his arm
around your waist to pull you closer to him. He leaned down and planted a chaste kiss full of
malicious intent on your forehead. “We’re done here. Do you want to go grab some lunch?”

Yoongi bristled, the flames still licking against him as he watched Jeon act as if you weren’t in more
danger than you realized. It was too much. You were so close to him that he could smell your
perfume but your attention was only focused on Jeon. He turned away, had to, he refused to look at
you, didn’t want to witness any emotions that might be hidden in your eyes for a man that wasn’t
him, would never be him again.

“I can’t. We have a conference call scheduled in a few minutes.” Your voice sounded clipped.
Yoongi desperately wanted to know what was going through your mind, why you were so testy.
Was it with him or your boyfriend? He refused to look anywhere other than the desks that lined the
floor, his sharp stare silently ordering the employees back to work.

Jeon hummed. The sound was somewhere between disappointment and expectation but Yoongi
refused to question it. There would be no answers he wanted to hear. “We’re still on for tomorrow
night, right? You seem so stressed lately that I made us a reservation at a spa. Unless you’d rather
just have one of my massages,” he purred but made no effort to hide his voice or intentions from
Yoongi. “I know how much you like those.”
Yoongi caught the sight of your head nodding rapidly before you pushed Jeon away—not that it was
hard enough for his liking—and said, “Yeah. Of course. Sounds great.”

As soon as Jeon had walked away, you pushed past Yoongi and helped yourself to his office, like
you owned the place. You sat down in front of his desk, a notepad perched on your knees, and your
eyes dutifully turned towards the phone. Your face was unreadable, it seemed like wheels were
turning behind your eyes but you refused to let him have even the slightest idea of what thoughts
they were producing.

The entirety of the conference call was pained and awkward. Yoongi was only too aware of how
you froze anytime his eyes happened to drift your way. Your fingers tightened against the pen in
your hand, your lips pursed into a tight line, and your gaze drilled into the yellow sheets on the
notepad, as if you could lose yourself in them somehow. You refused to look at him, even to merely
glance in his general direction, for the entirety of the call and it hadn’t gone unnoticed that most of
your time was spent drawing absent-minded doodles in the corners of the pages.

An uncomfortable silence overtook the room once he had ended the call. Only the sound of your pen
scratching against the notepad in your lap and the rain tapping against the window broke it. Your
eyes refused to meet as he tapped his own pen against the desk. It was only too possible that you had
overheard at least part of his conversation with your boyfriend. He didn’t want to mess with your
relationship because, as far as he could see, from every possible angle, Jeon was the better option. He
wasn’t perfect, and Yoongi had recently acknowledged that you deserved more, but your boyfriend
could offer you things that he couldn’t. He might be boastful and cocky but he was also kind and
warm. Yoongi couldn’t fathom himself acting with such gentle affection that he could wrap his arm
around your waist as comfortably as Jeon did. For all of his faults and every annoying thing he had
said to get under Yoongi’s skin, it was clear to him that your boyfriend truly cared for and valued
you in a way that he never had done when he had the chance. Something as simple as bringing you
coffee and some fattening baked good every morning, just to start your day off with kindness and to
make sure you were taking care of yourself, had never even crossed his mind. He doubted that he
would ever be able to be that kind of man. That reality just didn’t exist for him.

You didn’t move after the phone call. You sat in the chair across from his desk, seemingly perfectly
content to draw the 67th stupid doodle of a rose in the margins of the notepad, all the while not
sparing a glance at your boss. He didn’t know if you felt his eyes on you but he continued to watch,
take in the way your grip was tight on the pen, your lips still pursed in a tight line, the bridge above
your nose furrowed, and your own eyes glued to the yellow pages of the notepad. Your neck was
buried in your shoulders, you back hunched over the pad as you scribbled into your lap. “Would you
like to get out of here?” The question had come out on its own and he wasn’t even entirely sure he
had said it until you lifted your head and leveled your gaze at him.

“What?”

“Uh…the rain,” he started and rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to will himself to keep your
stare, “it always makes me tired and I never end up being able to focus. You seem…uh…tense about
something so I thought since I was going to leave soon anyways—.”

You stood up abruptly, the notepad nearly fell from your lap, before you spat, “And you thought I
would go with you?”

Fuck.

“It’s not like that. That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t trying to imply—.”

“Good. Don’t misunderstand anything. I may not be as angry with you as I was but we aren’t
friends. We aren’t even friendly. We are on cordial terms. You are my boss and nothing more so stay
out of my private life. Whether or not I am tense isn’t any concern of yours anymore unless it affects
my work.” Yoongi had the distinct impression that your anger wasn’t entirely because of his
innocent question. Maybe he was reading into things too much, wishing for something that might not
actually be there, but your frown seemed too intense for your frustration to be solely because of him.
The way you slammed the door behind you on your way out only solidified the thought in his head.

You had overheard his conversation with Jeon and, what’s more, you knew what kind of terrible
secrets he had been keeping. You were being used by his mother, possibly by your own boyfriend,
and there was nothing he could do to stop it. And if you knew you were a pawn? You didn’t seem to
mind.

The rain refused to die down no matter how hard Yoongi glared out his window. His thoughts
seemed determined to always fall back to you and the predicament you were in, whether you knew it
or not, and the unavoidable fact that he was the real reason you were in danger. If he had just kept
his dick in his pants while at work then none of this would be happening. You would be an innocent
employee, completely unaware of the dark world that your boss was living in. You would be able to
date Jeon safely, go home to your own apartment without your boss’ mother showing up at your
door, and would have never heard the despicable things he had spat at you the night of the company
party. He was reminded—not for the first time—that your life would be better, safer if he had never
entered it.

Life seemed to have taken a particular interest in cruelty by bringing the two of you together every
time Yoongi vowed to stay as far away from you as possible. It had almost become comical to him,
so when he saw you standing underneath the awning of the building, a jacket wrapped tightly around
your middle and a look of absolute dread across your face, he nearly laughed because of course you
were there. It had only been a few hours since you had stormed out of his office and you didn’t
appear to be in a better mood than at that point. Only this time your frown was directed towards the
puddles that had collected on the sidewalk. Your eyes drifted to the sky and your glare hardened as
you watched the rain fall from the grey clouds.

“Of course,” you muttered to no one in particular.

Yoongi almost walked right past you towards the sleek black car that had been parked in front of the
building, a driver with an umbrella already walking towards the young CEO, but just as he passed
behind you, your back turned to him, he heard you exhale. It was nothing more than a sigh but it
sounded sad somehow, like a defeated breath desperately trying to escape, a twinge of misery hung
to the last note. He stopped almost immediately and motioned for his driver to stay back. He gnawed
on his bottom lip for just a moment before he finally inhaled and turned towards your unsuspecting
back.

“What’s wrong? No umbrella?”

You spun on your heel as soon as you heard his voice and, it didn’t go unnoticed by Yoongi, took
two steps back from him. It seemed you too felt the need for distance. You took in his appearance
and his lack of an umbrella himself before you turned your attention to the rain again. “Nope. I didn’t
think to check the weather so now I have to walk to the subway in the rain. Perfect. As if my day
wasn’t already awful.”

Yoongi suspected that you were speaking more to yourself than him so he didn’t pry about what had
happened to make your day so awful. After all, he already had his own suspicions. He tried not to,
wanted not to even mention him, but it slipped out. “Where’s Jeon? Did he bring one that you can
use?”
Your shoulders stiffened just enough to be noticeable before your voice, more hushed and controlled
than before, came out. “He has a meeting. He said he got a call after lunch about meeting a client.”

“A meeting?” Yoongi couldn’t fathom why someone in Jeon’s position would have a meeting. He
was a newer hire, had only worked for the company for a few months. He wasn’t in a position or
had the seniority to handle clients on his own. If he had a meeting to attend then it wasn’t work-
related. “I see. I’m sure it was important.”

“I’m sure it was,” you hissed but even the cruel tone of your voice didn’t convince him that you
bought the excuse.

Yoongi’s eyes flicked back towards his driver who stood dutifully just under the awning of the
building but far enough away so as to not impose on the conversation. He had an umbrella. He could
simply give you the cover and leave in his own car. It was probably the smart thing to do, after all.
You would be able to make your way home, protected from the rain, and, more importantly, do so
while far away from Yoongi. And yet that wasn’t what came out of his mouth. “I could give you a
ride home if you’d like.”

You cast a harsh stare his way and huffed out a laugh, something admonishing in tone, before your
eyes focused back on the unrelenting rain. The edges of your lips turned downwards as you pouted,
completely oblivious to the small smile that graced his own mouth.

Cute. You were cute when you were frustrated, from the displeased wrinkle between your brows to
the thrumming of your fingers against your arms as you locked them in front of your chest. Yoongi
allowed himself one second—two, three—before he forced his attention elsewhere. “It's just a ride
home. I don't have any sinister intentions,” he sighed. He heard you grumble something under your
breath before you finally acquiesced and followed him to his waiting car.

To say the drive was tense would be an understatement. After you gave your address to the driver
you chose to remain tight-lipped. You were more interested in watching the rain race across your
window than with engaging Yoongi in conversation. What caught his attention, what finally forced
him to muster up the courage to try and break the silence, was a small sniffle and the quick
movement that followed of one of your hands wiping something from your cheek. Something in his
chest cracked with the sound. His hand twitched against his leg and nearly left him completely to
reach for you but before he could stop himself you cleared your throat and did it for him.

“I don't know where he went.”

Yoongi pursed his lips and took a deep sigh. “I'm sure he's shadowing someone else's meeting.
Minsung has meetings with clients, they seem close, I'm sure that's who he’s with.”

“I’m not an idiot. You and I both know he’s not doing anything related to work. Don't coddle me,
Yoongi,” you scoffed and sniffled again.

His eyes darted to you and the crack in his chest widened because, damn, did his name sound
wonderful rolling off your tongue. Even if it was with venom. “How do you know my name?”

You finally turned away from the window to face him directly. “You're not an idiot either. You
know exactly how I know.”

“Ah, my mother,” he muttered with a nod. The silence returned again as you both watched the
buildings pass by out the window until Yoongi grew too frustrated with the questions in his head. “I
take it your new position in the company is related to her visiting your home?”
You whipped your head around and whispered, “That’s not the first time you’ve mentioned that.
How do you know she came to my place?”

He stretched his neck and licked his lips. He was taking a risk, hedging his bets on the fact that his
mother already suspected he was fighting back—but also by putting a little trust in you. What was it
Hoseok had said? You can’t be with someone if you can’t be vulnerable. His teeth grazed his bottom
lip as everything in his body tried to pull him back. It was as if every nerve ending was shouting in
pain, trying to remind him how poor of an idea it was, but his brain told him that change only came
to those who worked for it, who wanted it so badly that they would toss themselves out to the wolves
if that’s what was necessary.

“I hired someone to follow her.” There. It was out in the open. He had said it to the one person he
was positive was working for his mother. He had announced his secret to the one person he wanted
to trust but couldn’t. He couldn’t fathom a reasonable way to be more vulnerable than that.

Your eyebrows raised and your mouth parted as you, no doubt, tried to read whether or not he was
telling the truth. You did have someone to report back to, after all. “Why’d you do that?”

“My family is full of secrets,” he said and leaned in towards you with a cheeky smirk, “as you well
know.” You didn't return his grin or react to his attempt at humor so he settled back into his seat,
thoroughly rejected. “Don't feel too bad for my mother. She's had people following me and
informing on me since I was a kid.”

“Some family,” you muttered.

Yoongi chuckled and nodded, “And now she has you spying on me too.” He watched as you froze,
could almost see the muscles stiffen under your skin, while your eyes searched his own for some
kind of clue as to how he felt. He smiled, a grin full of gums and teeth before he laughed, “Don't
look at me like that. You aren't the first person to turn on me and work for her.” You worked your
bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, the worried wrinkle between your brows appeared
again as you fought through whatever emotion it was you were battling—he suspected a fair share of
guilt was involved. Your fingers played with the fabric of your skirt while your eyes danced around
the car, focused on nothing in particular. His smile faded and he sighed, a more serious tone than
before, “You have no reason to feel guilty.”

“I don't,” you snapped but your sheepish gaze said differently.

“I can't blame you for it. I've done a lot of bad things.”

“That's putting it lightly. You killed a man!”

Yoongi grimaced. It was a part of his past that he hated and struggled with each winter with the
anniversary of the man’s death but knowing that you now knew his secret made the weight of it even
heavier. You already despised him but knowing such a dark thing from his life surely made you
think even less of him. He reminded himself that it didn't matter in the long run, he had already
ruined his chances to be happy with you. “I know, trust me, I can't forget. However, I was actually
referring to the things I have done to you.”

You stilled, your eyes wide and finally focused on him, and he was sure you had stopped breathing
altogether. “What?”

He swallowed, a weak attempt to cure the lump in his throat. “I never really apologized, did I? I…
uh…owe you a lot more than this but, for what it’s worth, I…I am sorry.” His hand rubbed the back
of his neck as his eyes danced along the interior of the car, determined not to meet your stare. It was
rare for him to say such things and his tongue tripped and twisted around the foreign words. It was a
far cry from the image he projected to the world but he hoped you could see his sincerity. “Um…The
things I said to you, the way I treated you, none of that was right. I could try to explain why I did
them but it wouldn’t matter. None of it makes the way I acted justifiable.” He paused long enough to
inhale and face you. A terrible tremble had seeped into his voice and the quiver found its way to his
hands as they thrummed lightly against his thigh. He felt that no matter how he worded his apology it
would never amount to anything more than words uttered far too late in the back of a car. You
deserved better.

“There are…a lot of things that I regret doing, I’ve hurt a lot of people in my life but…I think the
person I regret harming the most is you. That probably sounds absurd,” he laughed, a breathy thing
that had to fight its way out of his clenched chest and lasted far too long in the otherwise quiet car,
“but it’s true.” Yoongi watched as your eyes searched his own. He hoped you would say something,
save him the embarrassment of pulling the right words and trying to say them with any kind of grace
but he was met with silence. His stomach twisted and he wondered if he might possibly vomit in
front of you. His lips twitched into a tight smile as he adjusted his tie, after all, Hoseok did suggest
that he show some vulnerability but he supposed that throwing up from sheer nervousness wasn’t
what his friend had meant. “My life is messy and sordid, to say the least, and it’s obvious that being
with you has let some of that seep into yours and…um…for that, I’m sorry.”

There was another heavy break of silence in the car but, unlike the past awkward moments, neither
one of you shied away from staring at each other. Your pupils were much larger than usual, your lips
parted as if you wanted to speak but couldn’t fathom the words to use, one of your hands rested
gently against your chest. Your hair was a mess from a day’s worth of frustrating work, your makeup
had faded, your lipstick only remained a thin line around the outer edges of your mouth, small flecks
of mascara dusted your cheeks, and yet he couldn’t imagine a time where you had looked more
heartbreakingly beautiful. He wished to be able to piece together the words that would take away the
past few months, to go back to when you gifted him the chance to apologize and he had missed yet
another opportunity to be the kind of man you deserved, or to go back to when you had stormed into
his office and demanded a date. He wanted a do-over but all he had was the satisfaction of knowing
he had told you how regretful he was and the possibility that it would make your life a little less
stressful.

Finally—cruelly—in a quiet, breathy voice, you filled his shattered heart with useless hope again and
you did it something as simple as his name. “Yoongi—.”

“We’re here, sir.” The driver’s voice sliced in and the moment broke. Whatever might have followed
his name never came. Your eyes pulled away first and his snapped shut afterward. His chest felt like
it had plummeted into his stomach, his heart now beat somewhere by his gut, and the nausea he felt
just moments before morphed into a heavy knot that weighed him down. It had been foolish to let his
hope get a breath of air when it had all but been dead before but now he would always have to
wonder what might have come next if the driver had taken a longer route.

“Oh, we are,” you whispered and cleared your throat as the car slowed to a stop. You gathered your
bag and belongings but the actions came slower than usual, like you were conflicted about what
should come next—or perhaps, what you wanted to come next.

It was at some point between you muttering your gratitude for the ride home and the driver pointedly
clearing his throat that Yoongi realized he really ought to say something. The patter of the rain
against the window intensified. If Yoongi had believed in such foolish things he might have
wondered if some higher power was taking pity on him—or maybe they just despised you. “Stay
there,” he said and when you looked back at him with a questioning wrinkle between your brows he
held up the black umbrella. “I’ll walk you to your door.”
The streetlights lining the road were some horrid yellow shade, a far cry from the blue-white color of
the ones decorating his own neighborhood. It seemed that every third light was darker, leaning
towards orange, as if it was just a flicker or two from its death. The street itself was marred with
potholes and cracks that threatened to spread. The pavement was faded and lined with tar as a
temporary and cheap fix for its problems. Trapped in puddles or caught in the iron fences that
separated the buildings was litter, trash discarded into unattended dumpsters only to be caught in the
breeze of the storm. His own neighborhood featured a lining of lush trees in brilliant shades of green
that helped separate the noise of the street from the residents but yours only had a few weak saplings,
a recent attempt to spruce up the place, and two meager fully grown ones with thin trunks. Yoongi
grimaced as a stench, something heavy with grease, hit his nose. If he had paid more attention in the
car, if he hadn’t been so captivated by your conversation and the words that still remained unsaid,
bubbling just under his skin, he might have noticed the main thoroughfare lined with cheap diners
and fast food places.

He opened the door for you only after a car alarm blared on a neighboring street, pulled from his
reproachful glare at the state of your neighborhood. The cover of the umbrella, as nice and dry as it
was, offered little room for distance between the two of you. There wasn’t a comfortable way for
either of you to stand without your bodies, be it your hips or your arms, brushing against each other.
Yoongi cleared his throat the first time your shoulders bumped together and murmured a quiet
apology. The second time you let out a hushed, “Sorry,” and avoided all eye contact. After the third
time with the two of you still huddled on the lopsided sidewalk you couldn’t fight back a frustrated
laugh, “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, otherwise, we’ll be stuck out here all night.” Yoongi didn’t
find the option so terrible but merely nodded in response. “My place is a little ways down the street.”

“We could drive you closer.” He was quick to suggest, a little too eager to please.

You worked your lip between your teeth and left him with the din of the city before your eyes pulled
away from whatever you had focused on in the distance. They settled on him and you took a deep
breath before shaking your head. “No. We can walk together.” You took off after that without
another word and he rushed to make sure you remained covered with the umbrella. Your lips quirked
with the faintest curl but he tried not to look.

“Your mother is a bitch,” you said and caught his eye for a brief moment. “Sorry if that was out of
line.”

Yoongi took the opportunity to bask in the feeling of your body so close to his, even if it was only to
avoid the rain. “I think we crossed all the lines a long time ago.” You nodded and returned his
lopsided grin when he leaned in as if he was sharing some great secret. “Besides, you’re only stating
a fact. She is a bitch.”

“If you know that she wants me to spy on you then why tell me you’re having her followed?”

“I think, after everything, I at least owe you my honesty.”

“But it’ll just make it worse for you when I tell her, won’t it?”

He shrugged and sighed before smiling at you. “Maybe. But that’s my problem, not yours. She’d
figure it out eventually anyways—if she hasn’t already.” You nodded slowly and turned to look back
at the sidewalk before he could read your reaction.

Under one of the only trees on the street, one that stood on the side closest to you, a man sat against
the trunk with his legs sprawled over the wet ground. It wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where he
imagined women safely encountering such a stranger, one entirely unconcerned with the state of the
weather and how it drenched his clothes. Yoongi stiffened when the man came into view and
something inside of him perked up, he stood straighter, his chest puffed out, his eyes narrowed and
trained onto the figure. Was it uncalled for? Maybe, but he said nothing as he slipped a hand onto
your back to let you know he was moving and slid behind you so that he could place himself
between you and the stranger on the ground.

You coughed, though it sounded more like your breath sticking to your throat and catching you off-
guard, but said nothing to him. There was a time when you wouldn’t have stood in the same room as
him without glaring in his direction but it was hard to ignore the way you cozied up to him—
intentional or not. He just hoped you didn’t notice the lingering of his palm on your back or the way
his fingers seemed to cling to the fabric of your blouse. “Sorry, I just think the view is better over
here,” he rushed out. It was terrible, an awful explanation, but he couldn’t stop his mouth from
moving, not when he could smell your perfume over the heavy, dirty, greasy scent of the
neighborhood.

“He’s here every night, Yoongi. It’s really fine.” Of course, you didn’t buy his excuse. Of course.

He scoffed and rubbed underneath his nose as he stared down the stranger. “I don’t know what
you’re talking about.” It wasn't until the both of you had passed the man, who made no sign of being
aware of your presence, that he removed his hand from your back. His fingers grazed your arm when
he retreated but it was all he could do not to slip his hand into your own as he had seen Jeon do on
more than one occasion.

If he had his way—truly had the ability to change everything about the situation, his past, himself—
then he wanted more than to simply hold your hand. He wanted to bask in the warmth it would
encase his in despite the chill the rain left in the air. He wanted the feel of your skin against his own
for more than a quick, apologetic kiss of flesh every other step. He wanted to soak in the scent of
your perfume to the point that he would catch a whiff of it in his own condo hours after he had said
goodbye. He wanted more. He would never get it and the ache in his chest only burned more
intensely when you were close—when he was so close to what he could have had and threw away.
He shook his head, tried to toss the thoughts out of his mind so that he could at least enjoy the
moment he had been given and to stop longing for something he’d never have again. “Which
building is yours?”

You pointed to one of the better-looking structures on the street without saying a word. Your eyes
were focused on the sidewalk, your tongue dipped out of your mouth to lick your lip before you
pulled it between your teeth. He didn’t want to press you for fear it would cut whatever kind of
connection the two of you had been sharing—no matter how tenuous—and it was the first time you
had opened up to him in months. His attention went, instead, to your apartment building and, though
he tried to fight it, his lips settled into a deep frown. The building looked fine enough, it had a proper
iron fence around it to separate itself from the other complexes, and featured an awning over the
entrance where he could just make out a box next to the door, one he hoped was for keyed entry.
There was a modest yard in front of the building but it lacked much grass and was otherwise barren.
Thanks to the rain it was a muddy slop broken up only by the concrete walkway to the entrance.

He had never taken an interest in your personal life before you cut him out of it. He had never
questioned where you came from, your hobbies or interests, where you had grown up, and had
certainly never given a single thought to where you went home to every night. It didn’t sit well with
him. There was an uncomfortable twist in his gut. Guilt. He had spent every day using you and then
tossing you out like a piece of trash only for you to return to a life that he qualified as squalor. He
only ever treated you like an object that he could make filthy but he had no idea you already lived in
it. Suddenly his suit, pressed and tailored, seemed offensive, out of place, and the dichotomy
between it and your neighborhood only tormented him further. You didn’t fit into this world—or
maybe it was that he didn’t fit into yours. His throat felt tight, his back was sweaty and clung to his
shirt, and you seemed completely unaware and lost in your own thoughts. The familiar worried
wrinkle between your brows had returned and he wanted nothing more than to make it disappear but,
the thing was, he didn’t know how.

“You know,” he said with a cough to try and dislodge whatever was causing his throat to tighten
around nothing, “I really should have given you a raise for all of your…extra work. Then maybe you
could afford to live somewhere nicer. Somewhere safer.”

Your gaze snapped back to him. “I’m not a prostitute, Yoongi.”

Fuck. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to take your mind off of whatever you were worried about.

“No! No no no. Shit. Sorry, I was just trying to make a joke because you seemed…distracted.”

Your frown dissipated and your eyes dropped to your feet for a beat before you focused back on
him. “It’s fine but don’t do that again. I didn’t sleep with you just to get money and you know that.”

He nodded, his throat too tight to do more than mutter, “I know. I’m sorry.”

The gate to your apartment building showed up too soon. He didn’t want to end the night on a sour
note, even if you had forgiven him so easily. It was selfish but he didn’t know when he would have
the opportunity to talk to you so openly again and didn’t want it marred with such a tasteless joke.

Before he could fathom something to say you stopped in front of the building without a word. You
turned to face him directly except that you stared at his chest, your eyes danced across the fabric of
his suit, unable to focus on anything in particular. Your tongue ran across your lips as you closed
your eyes and rubbed your neck. Your gaze worked its way up to his eyes again and that same damn
wrinkle worked its way back between your brows. “I really liked you, Yoongi,” you whispered just
loud enough to be heard over the sound of the rain pelting the umbrella and the crack of his heart
splitting. There was a sheen to your eyes that was barely visible thanks to the dim lighting of the
faulty street-lamps but, with how intensely he watched you, it was hard for him to miss. “I know you
think that it’s stupid and you don’t do relationships but I was hoping you would eventually change
your mind.” You wrapped your arms around yourself and laughed, a sad and hollow sound. “God, I
was an idiot, wasn’t I?”

No. He was just too late to realize he was the fool.

“Why would you even like me? I never did anything to deserve that,” he said with a weak grin.

“That’s the real question, isn’t it?” you asked with the same dead chuckle. You had never smiled as
brilliantly with him as you did with Jeon, it was hard for him to miss that even when he tried to
ignore the two of you huddled together in the break room, but you had never quite seemed so hollow
inside when you had been with him. He had never hated and wanted to be Jeon more than he had at
that very moment. Surely you had never laughed with that same empty giggle with your boyfriend.
“You were so mysterious,” you said, completely unaware of the pain in his chest. “I thought
someone in your position would be middle-aged, fat, and boring but you weren’t any of those things.
You were funny, handsome, young, and so confident, I kind of got pulled in too deep. I forgot that I
didn’t know anything about you so I just kind of created this idea of who you really were and
ignored anything that didn’t fit. I guess I got what I wanted. I know you now.” You laughed again
and there was the tiniest spark of life in it, like you genuinely thought your musing was funny.

He nodded and forced out a chuckle but the hollowness had seeped into his own laughter. “You do.
I’m sure my mother told you plenty about who I am, what kind of person I am. I’m not a good guy.”
 “I think that’s where you’re wrong.” You said and considered your next words before you
continued. “I don’t think anyone is bad or good. The world isn’t black and white like that. That
would be too easy. I think that you make choices and that makes you who you are.”

“I chose to do all the things in my past. I’m really not a good person.”

“You aren’t listening to me, Yoongi. I said that you make choices and they make you who you are.
If you want to be a better person than you just have to try. So make better ones.”

There was nothing beautiful about the night except for the way you could destroy him and start to
piece him together again so effortlessly. There was a fire in his chest, a small one at the moment,
nicely contained but burning brightly nonetheless. It probably meant nothing to you but for Yoongi
hearing that you believed he could be something better, something greater than the past he had
marred and abused, meant everything. He didn’t deserve it but he wanted it. “Thank you,” he
whispered, the sound choked and strangled while he tried to hide just how intensely he craved your
approval.

You watched him, carefully, but said nothing for a long moment. “Watch out for yourself, Yoongi.
Your mother doesn’t seem like someone who forgives easily.” He nodded, unable to form the words
he wanted without showing, saying, doing too much. “I should go inside. Thanks for the ride.”

You turned to walk away, out of the cover of the umbrella, but Yoongi stretched it out to you to keep
you dry. “Here, take it.” The rain hit his back as he exposed it but he kept a grin on his face—
expensive suit be damned. Your eyes glanced back towards his car two blocks away before turning
back to him. He shook the handle at you and nodded towards it. “Please, take it. I don’t want you to
get sick.”

You looked over your shoulder at your building, the awning a few seconds jog away, before
studying his face again like you had suddenly noticed something about him you hadn’t before.
“Thanks,” you said softly and though you tilted your head down Yoongi didn’t miss the curl of your
lips.

You walked away, dry and protected, and he lingered just long enough to watch the front door
unlock after you pressed in the code to the keypad. He was drenched and freezing by the time he got
back to the car but he hadn’t noticed. The only thing he could feel was the ache in his cheeks from
carrying a smile too wide.

If only he had noticed the car parked across the street and the eyes that had watched his every move.

Chapter End Notes

Originally posted on Tumblr by ellieljade

 Chapter 08
Chapter Summary

Originally posted on Tumblr at ellieljade

Yoongi wasn’t a sentimental man but the gentle rhythmic tapping of rain had become unwittingly
attached to you in his mind. The first time he noticed the warmth that spread through his chest at the
sound of a late spring storm was when he was stuck in his office, working late into the night.
Everyone else had left hours before and he was alone on the floor. The janitor had already come and
gone but Yoongi stayed dutifully at his desk to try to keep his mother happy, to produce a quarter in
the black to distract her from his and Hoseok’s plans. He was stressed, his body tense, and he was
alone when he felt a calm seep through his chest inexplicably.

His mind twisted to you, which was more common than he liked to admit, and his worries melted
away with the memory of the two of you huddling under the umbrella, skin brushing against each
other with every step. The pitter patter of the rain against the windows of his office harkened his
mind back to your confession, whispered into the air with no expectations. What really soothed him
was the assertion that he could be better if he made the right choices. The belief that his moral soul
wasn’t settled, that he wasn’t fated to be anything more than the results of his own decisions, offered
him a peace in the madness that he had never found before you.

The second time he noticed the connection between his memories of you and the weather was as a
storm approached in late spring and with it the promise of a gentle rain. He couldn’t fight the muscles
in his back tightening or the stiffening of his neck as he recalled the stress of the day weeks before
when Jeon stormed into his office wielding nothing more and nothing less than a vicious threat. He
may have been your boyfriend but he either didn’t know the danger his rash actions could put you in
or he didn’t care. Neither option settled well with Yoongi. When the storm broke and the rain finally
fell it washed away the budding knot between his shoulders with the persistent vision of you gazing
at him while saying his name, the wonder of words left unsaid.

But his salvation could only ever be fleeting.

It became a problem the third time he was aware of how you seeped through his mind so effortlessly
with something as simple as the rain. Spring was nearly over but the storms clung to the city in a
futile effort to bide off the heat and one of the last storms of the season had caught Yoongi unaware.
He had opted to skip having a personal driver that day as he had intentions on lunch with Hoseok—
something he wouldn’t want getting back to his mother but was ultimately cancelled. It was
frustrating, worrisome, and it left a queasy residue in his stomach, something he couldn’t wash away
the rest of the day. He felt some kind of nervous weight rest on his chest that made it difficult to
breathe.

When he first heard the rain hit the windshield of the car he welcomed the brief serenity, his ability to
hide in thoughts of you for a few stolen minutes, that he had grown so fond of during that season.
The only difference was the smell of the leather in the car, the tap-tap-tapping of the rain drops, and
the gentle roar of the same car engine that had driven the two of you that special day.

He didn’t do it intentionally, didn’t even realize where he was headed until he caught site of a
familiar string of cheap fast food restaurants lining a street, and by then he had cast off his shame and
decided to be greedy. You would never know, he reasoned as he parked the car three blocks away
from your apartment building. It wasn’t something he was proud of, roaming the streets of your
neighborhood just to soothe his own worries and calm his mind, but he had taken as many measures
as he could to make sure you would never be the wiser. The car was far from your apartment, he
wore a black hat to obscure his face and, if that wasn’t enough, tipped the umbrella to cover himself
whenever anyone was near him. It was dark and the moon was obscured by the storm clouds.
Passing cars were limited and Yoongi made sure to block their headlights from his face with a simple
dip of his hat.

It wasn’t clear what he was searching for—or worse, hoping for—but as his steps kicked up water
from standing puddles he decided he wouldn’t stop, he would merely take a stroll through your
neighborhood. Of course, his eyes automatically snapped to your building as soon as it was in view
and he felt a needy ball of nerves jump in his throat as it grew closer. There were only a handful of
lights shining through the windows of the building and though he tried not to dart his focus between
each one for any sign of something familiar, it was futile.

His pace only faltered when he was directly across the street from your building, behind some tiny,
weak sapling that struggled to grow in the grease laden air that permeated your part of the city. There
was one light in particular that caught his eye. On the second floor was a window that only obscured
the room behind it with a thin, frail curtain—probably something lacy that had never been properly
cared for and long since lost it’s value. The window itself was open despite the rain—as if the
occupant cherished the sound too—and when the breeze blew, the curtains would dance with the
wind and through their gentle twists and twirls he saw you.

You were unaware that he was standing on the street entirely entranced with something as simple as
the way you played with your hair in front of a mirror in your bedroom. He could barely make out
the elegant flick of your wrist as you moved each piece into place but it was enough. The peace he
craved when you were around, the soothing respite from the stress, drowned out his mind until all he
could manage to pull together was that he was quite certain he would be in love with you far longer
than he would let anyone know. You would move on, find someone that filled you with the same
calm serenity you had unwittingly bestowed him, and he would never utter a word to you about it. It
would forever be as it was on the street that night, Yoongi would only ever be on the outside looking
in on your life and wondering just what it would be like if…

He knew where such thoughts led to, a self pitying sorrow that would ruin the moment he had
sought. He willed the never-ending tunnel of what ifs away in time to see another figure appear from
just out of the small view the window offered. He was tall, his hair was dark, shoulders broad,
Yoongi didn’t need to see his face to place the man. Jeon slid behind you and his arm snaked its way
around your waist to settle on the hem of your shirt. His head rested on your shoulder, his chin
hooked onto it so he could meet your stare in the mirror that Yoongi could barely make out from his
spot down on the sidewalk. He saw your mouth move but the sound of your voice didn’t carry far
enough on the wind to meet his ears, however whatever you said pulled the lips of the man they
were intended for into a sly smile. He replied with something that elicited a laugh, one that fell silent
for Yoongi.

Jeon’s head turned into the crook of your neck just as he slipped his hand beneath the hem of your
shirt to no doubt touch the warm expanse of skin on your lower stomach amidst the damp chill the
rain left in the air. You closed your eyes with a smile but tried to push his arm off your waist with a
weak attempt, one more playful than anything else, before you said something to your boyfriend and
moved away just enough to check your phone and show him the screen. It was likely that the two of
you were supposed to be somewhere but Jeon grabbed your phone and placed it back where you had
it before and pulled you into to him before he spun you so that you faced each other. Your hands
rested against his chest and Yoongi was sure that you had the fabric of his shirt in your fists to try
and close any remaining space between the two of you—at least if his time with you was anything to
go by.

You kissed Jeon, head tilted up to grant him access to your lips and he—so fucking effortlessly, no
hesitation needed—slipped his hands back under your shirt to rest on your waist. The rain was
persistent but Yoongi could hear the sound of his sharp breath even before he realized he was the
one who had made it. It had been months since he’d kissed you and had he known the last time was
the final one, he would’ve memorized your taste, the exact texture of your lips, pinpointed the smell
of your shampoo and how it met with your perfume. Had he listened to Hoseok’s advice all those
years ago in college and taken the opportunity to reflect on himself he might not be carrying the
weight of his past crimes—he might be the one in your room with his shirt in your clutches.

A passing car’s headlights flashing across his face broke his pitiful train of thought and for that he
was grateful. He cast one final glance at your window just in time to catch Jeon lift your shirt over
your head and toss it to the floor. You cast one more smile at your boyfriend’s back as he stalked
towards the window to lower heavier blinds and close off the world until it was just the two of you—
but Yoongi didn’t miss the familiar black lace that adorned your body. It’d be hard for him to forget
the only lingerie he had ever bought for a woman.

The cool breezes and gentle rains of spring settled into the unbearable heat of summer but somehow,
despite the storms and wet streets, you remained his one oasis—one that could only provide a
temporary reprieve. You were his own little mirage that he kept walking towards, reached out for,
but would never taste the reward he desired.

Your presence in his office daily was at once both a curse and a blessing. Behind closed doors you
were warm, affable, and shared matching smiles with him far more often than you had before the
night he drove you home. Each giggle and every quip settled his worries further into the back of his
mind to be attended to only when he was out of the spell you had him under. He had even found
himself in dangerous ground when his thoughts started to tug at the chance that this new familiarity
between the two of you, the open books you had become—or at least permitted each other to read
the next chapter—could lead to something more. You’d smile a little too wide, laugh a little too long
at one of his jokes, and he struggled to remind himself that, at best, you would only ever be cordial to
each other. Strangers with a past. It proved difficult to quell his stubborn hope when he caught your
eyes on him, a muted sorrow in your stare, when he was otherwise preoccupied.

Then there were all the other moments. The times you refused to meet his stare when he was on the
work floor. The conversations dropped if someone happened a little too close to the two of you. The
cold indifference you cast his way if Jeon was watching. The terse and unforgiving insults you spit
out if anyone was within earshot.

And just when he had gotten used to the curt attitude, the cold shoulders, the harsh glares sent his
way, you would always find a way to make him question their authenticity. He could never be sure
which side of you was genuine—or perhaps both were. Unknowingly, you would never just let his
hope die.

The company’s business sat at the forefront of his mind most days. He was, at once, aiming for
success and trying to destroy it all. A number of deals had fallen through and Yoongi found it hard to
care, he almost felt a sense of pride when he was told that a potential investor had passed, until he
remembered the men and women who depended on the company to pay their bills. Some had
children, spouses, parents that needed their care, or any other number of obligations and Yoongi was
silently working to take their livelihood from them. A heavy guilt sat on his shoulders anytime that
came to mind. Most of all, you would be impacted if he succeeded in destroying the company,
though he had a plan to try to protect you from such a fate. Despite all his guilt and stress, Mrs. Min
didn’t ease up her pressure on her son to see positive results with the companies income but she
wasn’t the kind of woman to wait on anyone else to make waves that she was capable of.

Any chance Mrs. Min got she liked to tout the company’s benevolence in front of the media. She had
a history of throwing benefits and joining causes when they were the focus of the community. In
times of disasters, the Min Corporation threw money at relief organizations, offered supplies, held
fundraisers and benefits for those in need—so long as there were a journalist or two around. When
social issues like income inequality were the hot button topic in the news, Mrs. Min made it a point to
champion campaigns aimed at women’s rights and spreading quality education to those who couldn’t
afford it, but the pay gaps inside the company were kept under lock and key. At some point that
summer, her attention turned to the housing crisis affecting a neighboring country’s poorest residents,
a story that had played in the news for weeks as an influx of homeless and displaced citizens tried to
immigrate. As usual, a glamorous gala was thrown to raise funds for their cause and there was no
shortage of press invited to the event.

Yoongi detested such events. They were long, with hours spent networking and smooching up to
potential donors because, as his mother reminded him, the gala was only successful if the total raised
created headlines. “It’s not enough to do good. You have to be seen doing it, dear.” It was
disingenuous at best and disgusting at worst. He would spend the night dressed in a regal suit that
cost more than his employees made in a month, drinking decadent wine and aged scotch, and all the
while he would have to keep his charming facade on while you were wrapped safely in Jeon’s arms.

You shouldn’t have been there. You had no reason, no purpose to be at such an event, but in you
strolled, your arm looped together with Jeon’s and a hollow ache erupted in his chest like it always
did when you were around him. He hoped one day it would swallow him whole.

His own date for the evening, Kwon Jiwoo, was stunning and had turned nearly every man’s head as
she walked through the room. She was a model and looked like she had just stepped off the runway,
all draped in expensive fabric and luxurious details, but his eyes were firmly and cruelly focused on
you.

Jiwoo was the daughter of one of the board members and had been thrown at Yoongi by her father
numerous times over the years. What better bachelor for his daughter than one of the heirs to the Min
family fortune? She was sly and caught onto her dad’s motives early on. When Yoongi was named
CEO the bold and altogether desperate attempts her father concocted grew boring for him. He had
slept with Jiwoo too many times to remember over the years, the sordid inner workings of the
children of the rich and powerful were rarely romantic fairy tales, and he assumed she knew the
times he had taken her to bed meant nothing more than a fun romp and a chauffeur to drive her
home. She seemed to agree with their casual flings every few months and never expected anything
more from them—after all, it was his brother who was supposed to take the throne. Becoming the
head of the company had changed her opinion of him.

He hadn’t been surprised when his mother had suggested with all the subtlety of a peacock that he
take Jiwoo to the banquet. She was always concerned with appearances and the opinions of the
public and, frankly, Jiwoo was good for business. Not only did she look good on Yoongi’s arm,
know how to present herself in front of cameras and the media, but her father would be in Mrs.
Min’s pocket if he wanted the union to have any hope. Yoongi hadn’t spent more than a thought or
two to the fact that she’d be his date for the evening until you had entered the room.

You had bared your soul to him only a few weeks before, admitted more clearly than ever before that
you had, at one point, harbored feelings for him. It wasn’t as if you had hid them well to begin with
but the feeling of hearing what could have been had he been a half decent person haunted him since
that evening outside your apartment. A little too often for his own comfort he found himself
daydreaming about the what ifs and though he knew the chance had passed him by he couldn’t help
the way his arm slid out of its link with Jiwoo’s as soon as his eyes landed on you.

As sly as she was, Jiwoo seemed oblivious, or otherwise indifferent, to Yoongi’s lack of enthusiasm
for any conversation she attempted to hold. Her voice merely drifted through his head and he only
occasionally grabbed a word or fragment, just enough for him to know when to nod or throw out
some verbal cue he was at all interested in what she had to say. His attention was otherwise focused
on you and the way you shined in the light of the hall. He couldn’t understand why every pair of
eyes in the room weren’t drawn directly to you.

Yoongi didn’t notice at first but his gaze wasn’t the only one focused on you. His mother, huddled in
a small group of women that Yoongi recognized as wives of other CEOs, also seemed more
interested in watching you and your boyfriend than in the conversation with her peers. He watched
as time and time again his mother supplied a short response to the group surrounding her before
she’d take a sip of her wine and let her attention return to you and Jeon. The look in her eyes, the
devious curl of her lips, the tilt of her head as if she had noticed something interesting, it all settled in
Yoongi’s stomach with an anxious fizz.

It only worsened when he caught her minutes later in a corner with Hoseok.

Hoseok and Mrs. Min had never been close. She kept him at a distance his entire life, as if he was
her employee instead of his mother. Seeing the two of them huddled together was odd and sent a
sharp shiver down his spine. Hoseok was yet another person who Yoongi hadn’t known was
invited, though a bitter part of him answered the thought with a reminder that he hadn’t heard from
his friend in weeks. His calls had all gone unanswered, his texts read but never returned, and yet he
seemed to have time for a gala he knew well was a farce to merely feed his mother’s ego. More than
the jealous twist in his gut, he dwelled on the tightening of his chest that worked its way into his
throat because maybe nothing was as simple as it seemed.

Perhaps Hoseok was distancing himself from Yoongi in some selfless attempt to protect him. All of
the communications with the private investigator they had hired were through him because throwing
out the Min name would draw unwanted attention. At the expense of his own safety, he had opted to
guard Yoongi’s identity.

Jiwoo, ever the socialite, did well to hold the conversation Yoongi had all but dropped when he
noticed the meeting in the corner. When he excused himself abruptly upon seeing Mrs. Min leave
Hoseok, Jiwoo had covered for his rudeness. He couldn’t be bothered to thank her what with his
mind solely honed in on his friend and the possible disaster unfolding in front of him.

“Long time no see.”

Hoseok gnawed on his lip for a moment before nodding slowly, “I suppose I deserve that. I’m sorry,
I’ve been busy.”

“For months?” Even he could hear the edge in his voice.

“I’ve been focusing on my job. I got caught up in some leads.”

Yoongi let his excuse linger in the air, gave him the opportunity to change his mind but Hoseok
stood firm. He could’ve called his bluff, pointed out that his journalistic career had mostly been spent
chasing stories about celebrities and minor local news but he couldn’t bring himself to resort to such
pettiness. “Right.”

“Right,” his friend echoed with the same flat tone. “I see Yoojung is here,” he stated and tried to
keep the same bored voice, “who’s the guy she’s with?”

To be perfectly honest, Yoongi hadn’t even noticed Yoojung was in the building until he followed
Hoseok’s stare. She was in a corner, drink in hand, her waist wrapped in Minsung’s arm but what
had caught his attention was that you were with her and no arm snaked around yours. Jeon had
disappeared somewhere into the crowd. He sighed, “That’s Minsung. He works for me too.” Hoseok
grunted his disapproval into his drink. Yoongi clipped, “You two aren’t even dating,” before he
realized it had been weeks since they had spoken properly, “are you?”

“No,” Hoseok grumbled and pursed his lips. “She keeps rejecting me.”

“She’s a smart woman,” Yoongi chuckled but was met with silence. “Does she ever say why?”

The younger man scoffed, “Oh yeah. She makes it pretty clear.”

“So, why?”

His friend turned to stare at him as he spit out, “She says I’m too similar to you.”

Yoongi felt the burn of shame in his chest. The way Hoseok’s tongue twisted around the words,
lashed them out at him, he knew there was a quiet fury inside and one day he’d have to face the
wrath of it. “That’s not true. You’re nothing like me.”

He shrugged, “That’s what I keep telling her. She doesn’t believe me. Apparently my words no good
when I’m friends with someone like you.”

Neither man said anything for a moment and instead choose to let the moment hang there, rage left
unchecked, shame left to rot.

“So why are you here? Did my mother invite you?”

Hoseok stretched his neck and coughed. “Not exactly. She requested that I cover the gala for the
newspaper. She called my boss and demanded I do the article.”

“I’m sure she didn’t do that to help out your career,” Yoongi scoffed and took a strong sip of his
wine. “What did she want? What were you talking about?”

“She just wanted to check on me. She asked how I was doing, if work was going well, you know,
the typical mother stuff.” He shrugged and held his friend’s stare for a beat before he chuckled, “We
both know better than to believe that. She was laying it on thick too. Kept asking how my mom was
doing, how her health was, if there was anything she could do for us, that kind of shit.” He paused as
Yoongi nodded, his eyes searching the room for his mother, until Hoseok blurted out, “So the private
investigator is dead. He was burned alive. Weird coincidence, huh?”

The older man’s head snapped back to look at his friend, his brows raised until they were hidden
behind his fringe, his eyes round and wide. “What?”

Hoseok nodded so nonchalantly that Yoongi thought he must’ve misheard him but didn’t get a
chance to question him before Hoseok turned to face the crowd, the edges of his mouth turned up in
a tight curl. Yoongi followed his friend and stood next to him, shoulder to shoulder while they
scanned the room. “The investigator called me today,” Hoseok whispered but neither man seemed
interested in facing each other. They stood still, Yoongi’s arms locked in front of his chest, and both
eyes trained on the women who had ensnared their hearts but remained elusive. “He found the
storage unit.”
“And?” Yoongi tried not to let his hope run in front of him but without evidence to backup his
claims, he had nothing to stand on to accuse his mother. He couldn’t even blackmail her. He had
nothing to offer as a bribe. Worse, he had nothing to protect the few people he cared about.

“He found it this morning, sometime around 10AM. It's not far from your parent’s house—maybe
ten minutes. I guess she wanted someplace close by in case she needed to get anything on short
notice,” he rambled then waved off the thought with his hand in the air. “Anyways, he called me,
said he had followed one of your mother’s assistants from the house to some high tech storage
building. He followed her in and found the unit she went to, broke in somehow after she left and it
was just a room of filing cabinets and boxes full of all these documents about the company,
employees, different politicians, the police, and judges. The list goes on.”

Yoongi nodded and though his eyes were still focused on you enjoying your night, the smile he had
grown so fond of stretched across your face, he was left with a deep weight in his gut. “But he’s
dead now?”

Hoseok took a deep breath and sighed, a sad, low sound. “He was on the phone with me.”

The morose tone to his voice caught Yoongi’s attention and his head snapped towards him. “When
he died?”

He nodded slowly, the tight curl that had marked the edges of his lips now flattened. Hoseok always
had a light that seemed to radiate from within him but at the moment it had dimmed, if not
disappeared completely. When he spoke his voice was dull and it was hard for Yoongi to notice the
dead stare he had adopted as he stared into the crowd, merely a sight to hold to, nothing that caught
his interest. “He was sorting through the files and asking what exactly I needed most. There was just
too much for him to photograph and send to me so we needed the most damning evidence. He was
still looking for any proof of bribery, pay to play politics, collusion to bypass the law, any of the most
damning, the things that would really fuck the company and I heard voices yelling. Everything was
muffled but I’m sure he put up a fight. It kept going for maybe a minute? Two? And then someone
hung up the phone.

“I didn’t wait, you know me. I tried to get there as fast as I could but it was mid-morning, there were
so many people on the street, I couldn’t get a taxi and the subway stopped six blocks from the
building. I ran as fast as I could,” he muttered and shook his head gently, “but it didn’t matter. By the
time I got there the whole thing was up in flames. Firetrucks were everywhere, police, ambulances,
but no one would tell me anything. I only heard it when I got a call from a co-worker about covering
the story. She said it was an accidental fire and one man died. The official word was that he had
become trapped in the unit and likely succumbed to the smoke before the flames got him.” Hoseok
chuckled with a bitter edge and finally looked at Yoongi with an angry quirk to his eyebrow, “Tell
me, do you think they could rule a building going up like that an accident so quickly? Does that seem
normal to you?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“It’s not. It took me no more than an hour to get there. So far as I can tell, she knew who he was,
made him when he was following her or something, and had him lured there.” Yoongi’s mind
flashed back to the afternoon he took you home and his confession uttered to you in an attempt at
honesty, at humanity. Yes, it was possible his mother had made the investigator on her own but he
had also known you were spying for her and still told you that he was paying to have his mother
followed. His breath stopped somewhere in his throat, his heart sunk to his gut, and the realization
that perhaps he had been responsible for taking two lives in his short thirty years of life washed over
him. “They trapped him, probably beat him for any information, maybe even had the fire set before
he had called me,” he spat and turned away again to instead focus on the feet of a crowd of men
standing near them. An uncomfortable silence filled the air and settled on their shoulders. “He
wouldn’t have been there if not for us. We didn’t start that fire but we’re still responsible.”

“I know.”

“He had kids, Yoongi, a family—a real one—and she took him from it. Are you really sure you want
to do this?” Hoseok asked.

“Are you?”

Both men, maybe due to a lifetime spent together, didn’t need the other’s answer. Their eyes pulled
towards Mrs. Min with ease, as if she had put herself directly in their line of vision. Yoongi’s stare
hardened when he noticed her chosen company: you, your boyfriend, Yoojung, and Minsung.
Hoseok sighed deeply and took a strong sip of his cocktail, “I’m going to write an expose on her.”

“No you aren’t. You’ll be marked. You’ll be the next one she targets.”

Hoseok laughed though the sound was anything but joyous. “I already am, Yoongi. They have the
investigator’s phone. I was the last call he made, I was the one he contacted each week for updates,
and I was the one on the phone with him when her people found him. She already knows I’m
involved.”

The heavy weight in Yoongi’s gut twisted and a lump formed in his throat but he forced it down. He
had left Hoseok exposed, had let him take too much of the burden and subsequently, too much of the
risk. “Don’t write anything yet. I’ll think of something,” he promised but even to his own ears it
sounded weak. “She’s going to be watching us more closely from now on. There’s no other reason
why he’d have been there other than trying to find evidence of crimes and I’m positive she already
knows I’m not doing it for leverage. Why else would my mother make her my new secretary?”

The men continued to watch his mother mingle with you. Her gestures were warm, friendly, even
tender. It was a completely different woman than who they knew but you and your friends were all
grins and laughs. You were putty in her palm it seemed. His only hope rested in your conversation
with him when he took you home weeks before. The air was clearer between the two of you than it
had ever been before, the both of you saw each other, really began to meet the sides you had never
acknowledged or known before, and he prayed that you understood the danger you were in well
enough to defend yourself should he not be able to. He had left too many people unprotected in his
race to destroy his mother and his name and with a conviction more intense than he had felt in
months, he vowed to never fail those few he cared for so deeply ever again. The list was short but
even that would be a task when he faced a woman willing to kill a stranger to save the Min name.

“Did you ever question how she found out about her?” Hoseok eyed Yoongi out of the corner of his
vision but refused to do so directly. His pinky tapped against the glass of his drink out of synch with
the music but it went unnoticed.

“I didn’t have to. I already know.”

“You do?”

“My mother’s a lot of terrible things but she’s also observant, intelligent, and, above all else, cunning.
She probably knew that first day she came to the office and found her sitting at the desk outside my
door. We weren’t that subtle, looking back on it.”

Hoseok nodded and took another sip of his drink. “But what if she didn’t?”
Yoongi sighed and let his gaze turn from his mother and towards the man standing at her side, her
hand rubbing his arm at something he said to make her laugh. “Then someone else told her. I wasn’t
careful enough and a lot of the employees suspected something was happening between us. It
could’ve been anyone, I suppose, but my money is on her boyfriend, Jeon.” Another silence
overtook the two and it left him queasy. Conversations had never been difficult with Hoseok, they
were brothers more than they were friends, but he assuaged the wave of anxious nausea with his
wine and hoped it would drown out his worries.

Dinner did little to settle his stomach. You and Jeon were seated at the table with Yoongi, Jiwoo,
Mrs. Min, and several board members and it was clear the only person who felt comfortable with the
arrangement was his mother. She sat at the head of the table and, he should’ve seen this coming, he
and his date were seated directly across from you and your boyfriend. He tried to meet your eyes to
give you nothing more than a friendly, comforting smile but found Jeon already staring him down.
Your eyes darted around the table, across the linens, touched on the centerpieces briefly before they
landed on Jiwoo only to leave and repeat the dance. It wasn’t until Jeon wrapped his arm around the
back of your chair and rubbed at your shoulder that you met Yoongi’s gaze for a rushed moment
before turning your attention to your boyfriend.

He would’ve written off the glance as nothing more than that except that throughout the meal you
avoided meeting his stare even for a second, though you seemed to have zero qualms with watching
Jiwoo’s every move with a shifted look. It was for the best that you were the stronger of the two
because he knew that he was being scrutinized by not only Jeon but also his own mother. She had
taken great care to ensure that you and Yoongi flanked her at the table and he was certain she
enjoyed him squirming in front of her with the woman he loved off limits and yet right in front of
him. She forced conversation about trivial topics but only Jiwoo seemed unaware of the unspoken
love triangle and the crafty woman toying with it like they were her pawns.

“So,” Jiwoo said while the board members at the other end of the table engaged in their own
discussion, “how do you know Yoongi so well?” She snaked her hand around his arm and pulled
herself closer until she was hugging the limb. He darted his eyes up to meet hers but she had them
trained on you and Jeon.

You shifted your attention to Mrs. Min before it passed over Yoongi and back to his date. “Excuse
me?”

“Oh, I don't mean anything rude by it,” she giggled and he breathed out his frustration with a sigh.
“It’s just hard not to notice that the caliber at the table isn't equal, if you know what I mean.” She
gestured towards the board members and over to Yoongi and his mother, as if all of them didn't
already know what she meant. “You’re just an account manager, right?” No one at the table said a
word though Jeon’s harsh stare had finally moved from him and towards his date. She waved her
hands frantically in the air but the edge to her voice belied her, “Not that there’s anything wrong with
that. It’s just, well, wouldn’t you say it’s odd that you were seated with your boss and the board
members? Wouldn’t you rather sit with some of your friends or something? I’m sure the conversation
with us isn’t that interesting.”

It was difficult for Yoongi to tell if Jiwoo was insulting you on purpose—and her motive—or if she
was simply being obtuse. He saw his mother shift in her seat with a firm frown settled across her
mouth but she never got the chance to defend her decision—though he would’ve loved to hear her
try to explain such an obvious move. Before you or Jeon could speak, Yoongi laid a gentle hand on
Jiwoo’s and spoke softly, “We’re working with a marketing agency to acquire a large account and
we need a team of people to present our best selves. I think that she would be a great fit for the
team.” He gestured towards you and for the first time that night your eyes met for more than a brief
glance.
“Is that so?” Mrs. Min’s voice came out thick as molasses but without a hint of the sweetness.

He shot his eyes back to her in a hard stare, his mouth pulled into a taut line, “Yes. I’m glad you
invited her to the gala and offered her a seat with us for dinner, mother. We’re always so busy at
work that I hadn’t gotten a chance to discuss it with her yet.” His mother returned the edge to his
look and a tight, forced smile crept onto her face before she nodded slowly. He held her attention for
a moment longer, enough to give a defiant and cocky smirk before he focused on you again. “Are
you interested?”

The light in the room caught in your eyes as they widened and studied him. “Me? Why?”

You looked lost and it broke his heart to see you question his genuine belief that you were worthy of
a spot on the team. A good deal of blame lied with him, after all he had never done anything of his
own to build up your esteem at work—even gone out of his way to destroy it—but it reminded him
of how little he truly understood you. “Yes, you. The others on the team are older and more
experienced, yes, but they are stale too. I think that you could offer a fresh viewpoint that the others
lack.” He saw his mother shift in her seat and lean forward but when she spoke he only got louder. It
was as if he was determined to make you and everyone else hear what he was trying to ram through
your head. “You are a diligent worker,” he said and pulled his arm out of Jiwoo’s grasp to point at
you, completely disregarding Jeon’s glare and jaw tightening or his mother’s scoff at him talking
over her, “but I think you don’t believe in yourself enough. As your boss I should’ve encouraged
you more than I did in the past but I am confident you would be a valuable asset to this team.” He
was vaguely aware of his mother’s hum and knew he had exposed himself, revealed too much to too
many, but it was worth it for the way you stared at him like you were hanging on every word he
spoke. “I mean that,” he whispered and hoped his sincerity rang through even when his voice
dropped.

He had just enough time to catch a faint smile stretch across your lips before your boyfriend piped in.
“Do you?” He had leaned back in his seat, one arm stretched across the back of your chair, the other
laid on the table with his fingers tapping a slow rhythm into the surface.

“Yes, I do,” Yoongi snapped back, the cool facade he tried to maintain in front of his mother
shattered.

Jeon nodded, pursed his lips, then ran the length of his cheek with his tongue before licking his lips,
his focus never shifting from his boss. “It’s just that you have an odd way of showing it is all.”

“Jungkook,” you hissed and dropped your eyes to the table as the board members turned back to
your group’s discussion.

He didn’t seem to hear you or otherwise didn’t care. “She doesn’t need your charity.”

“It’s not charity. I’m only offering her a spot on a project that would help bulk up her resume. This is
a good career move for her,” Yoongi said but failed to mention that he knew the marketing firm
collaborating with the company was a steady business who were in the business of training their
employees on site. He didn’t let them in on how he had scoured through your employee file and
found you had specialized in advertising in university, not sales and relations with clients. Of course
you hadn’t excelled at a job you hated, one you had limited training for in the first place. He hoped
that you would find your place with the firm and subsequently land steady employment with them
before he completed his plans to destroy the company.

Jeon sneered, “And you’re just doing this out of the kindness of your heart? No ulterior motives at
all?”
“Now, Jungkook, I’m sure Yoongi is only working under his vision for the company. If he thinks
that the placement makes sense then it isn’t your place to question it,” she said with a pointed tone
and caught Yoongi’s eyes. “He knows exactly what he’s doing.” There was an acknowledgement
hidden in the statement, a threat unuttered but implied, and a sharp shiver of cold ice ran up his spine.
“He’s only offering his help.”

“She doesn’t need his help. She wouldn’t accept it so he can keep it to himself,” the younger man
spit and leaned forward onto the table, his hands curled into fists. “She’s not qualified for that team
and you know it. There are others who have always ranked higher than her each quarter and I’m sure
they would agree with me that you aren’t doing this because she deserves it.” Yoongi noticed your
lips press into a thin line and your eyes narrow in on your boyfriend but you said nothing and let him
continue on his tirade. “You aren’t fooling me. Keep your raises, promotions, car rides home, and
team placements to yourself. She doesn’t need them.”

Both yours and Yoongi’s shoulders stiffened and your eyes darted to each other in a knowing,
fearful stare but before either one of you could address him, Mrs. Min chimed in with a saccharine
voice. “Let’s discuss this at a more appropriate time. The job is yours, dear, if you want it,” she said
and placed her hand on your own but your wide, unsteady stare didn’t appear to be soothed. “My
son might run a little hotter than most but his business decisions are always sound. If he says you
earned this opportunity then you did.” It was a lie, she didn’t believe in his decisions—business or
not—and he hoped you heard the unsettling tone to her voice.

Jeon settled back into his chair with an audible grunt but otherwise remained silent with his arms
crossed in front of him. Your eyes flickered between his and his mother’s until you nodded and said,
“I’ll do it.”

He expected to feel some kind of smug satisfaction at your acceptance in front of his mother and
Jeon but it didn't come. In its place, however, was a gentle warmth that spread throughout his chest.
He was sure Jeon’s disbelief at your qualification played a part in your decision but he held firm to
the possibility that you had heard him loud and clear when he explained why he picked you.

His mother hadn't said another word at dinner to you or him and he found the first reason he could to
excuse himself from the tense and awkward atmosphere that plagued the table. It didn’t take him
long to find Hoseok when he was dutifully interviewing guests at the gala and taking down their
answers on a notepad—ever the fan of the journalistic nostalgia in the digital age. It wasn’t hard to
lure him away from another elderly man steeped in third generation wealth and pull him to the side
with a simple lie about needing to give the newspaper a quote but before any real conversation
between them could start, you found your way to him.

“I need to talk to you,” you said in a serious tone, no hint of a smile on your face.

Over your shoulder he could see Jeon, Yoojung, and Minsung keeping tabs on you in their huddle,
no matter who was talking, no one took their eyes off of you. “I’ll leave you two alone,” Hoseok
offered with a warm smile.

“No, I think you need to hear this too.” Hoseok stayed where he was but Yoongi’s stomach
plummeted. He could only think of one topic that you’d be willing to discuss in front of both of
them. Your focus on him was intense, your stare hard and determined. “You remember our
conversation when you took me home? About your mother?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell him?” You asked and nodded towards Hoseok.
“No. I think that should stay between us,” he said with a sharp tone.

You stared at him for a hard moment before you turned towards his friend, lips in a thin line and a
defiant look in your eyes. “His mother came to my apartment one night.”

“Stop,” Yoongi hissed. There were too many people around that could be in his mother’s corner for
you to even whisper such a confession to the men trying to expose her.

You ignored him and the way Hoseok’s eyes ran around the room in a panic to see who was close
enough to hear. “She told me all about Yoongi’s past and asked me to spy on him.”

“Wait. What?” Hoseok’s voice came out strangled, like it caught on the syllables and he froze in
place before his eyes darted between you and Yoongi, something flashed in them but his friend
couldn’t place it. A panic, some kind of terror, but it didn’t make sense.

“You’re up to something, the both of you. I’m not an idiot.” You turned back to Yoongi without a
single glance at the people surrounding you. “I don’t know what you’ve done or are trying to do but
she does, doesn’t she?”

Hoseok’s eyes drew to Yoongi but he stared straight at you with a blank expression, his glass of
wine cupped in his hand. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course you don’t,” you said with an exaggerated sigh. “Yoongi, when she came to my apartment
she already knew about us. She knew that our arrangement had ended on unpleasant terms and she
played into that. She fed me all these lines about revenge and getting even and I bought into them but
I’m done.”

“What do you mean?” Hoseok asked and stepped closer to you. Yoongi eyed him and his curiosity.
You shouldn’t be involved in the situation at all and he wanted the conversation to be done before
something terrible and irreversible happened.

“I don’t think I’m safe anymore.”

His head snapped to you and it was his time to step towards you. His arm twitched with a desperate
need to grab onto you, to anchor himself to the you so that perhaps you’d know how intense his urge
to protect you ran. “Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? You heard Jungkook at dinner. I never told him that you took me home
that day, he would have been furious.”

“You took her home?” Hoseok’s wide stare focused on Yoongi but he brushed off the question. It
wasn’t the right time to be lectured.

“I’m sure you didn’t tell him either. The only other person who should know is your driver but
somehow Jungkook does. Why else would he mention it? He’s been going on more of those
mysterious meetings lately and those only started after he found the files about your past in my
apartment. Your mother’s number was in them. It’s not difficult to put two and two together.”

“You think your boyfriend is in on this?”

Yoongi gnawed on his lip for a moment before he remembered the three of them were being
watched. “My driver is a possibility but maybe we were being watched.”

“I heard him outside your office and figured he was talking with her but he still hasn’t mentioned it to
me at all. He even pretended he didn’t know who she was when we got here, can you believe that?”
You paused to take a sip of your drink and cast your gaze down to the floor while you spoke. “I
don’t think your driver told anyone. I think we were being watched and I’m pretty sure it was him.”

“Okay, but why would she have both of you spying on Yoongi? He doesn’t like your boyfriend,
they aren’t close, he can’t offer anything to her.”

Yoongi’s grip on his glass tightened and he hazarded a glare towards your boyfriend, his own
attention still fixated on you. “He’s not watching over me. He’s spying on her.”

“Like I said, I don’t think I’m safe anymore. She wouldn’t do that unless she thought I’d betray her
or lie, right?”

“Did you tell her what I told you that day? That I was having her followed?”

You shook your head. “No. I didn’t tell her anything from that day. I was already uncomfortable
with the idea of reporting everything to her and after hearing Jungkook outside your office and then
he just so happened to have a meeting later that day? Yeah, I was too suspicious to be honest with
her.”

Hoseok sighed while his face pulled into a deep frown. “I think you have to continue or else she’s
going to get nervous and,” he said with a pointed tone and looked towards Yoongi, “we’ve seen
what she can do when she gets testy.”

“I don’t want to. Instead, I want to spy for you.”

“What?” Yoongi asked, his heart tripped and his stomach plummeted.

“I want this all to end. I feel guilty, dirty, and stressed because of it. I can’t even trust my own
boyfriend and am constantly questioning why he is with me because of this. No, I want to make this
end as soon as possible. Whatever the two of you are doing, I want to help.”

The din of the party was drowned out by the frantic beat of his heart that had found its way to his
ears. His eyebrows raised and without even considering the benefits of such a deal he barked out,
“No. Absolutely not.”

You caught his eyes for only a moment, long enough to see the fury and panic that swam in them,
before Hoseok muttered, “What exactly do you mean?”

Yoongi’s head snapped towards his friend as he grabbed his arm to turn him to meet his incredulous
stare. “What exactly do you mean, Hoseok?”

“Think about it! If she feeds your mother incorrect information and can keep her boyfriend
convinced she’s being genuine, that could help us.”

“Have you forgotten that she had a man murdered today? Does she look bothered by it at all? You
want to bring someone else into this? You want to bring her into this?”

You reached for his own arm and gently placed your hand on him. “I’m already involved, Yoongi.”
He broke his glare to turn his attention to you. “I’m a big girl, I know how to swim. Now, let him go.
You’re making a scene and you know we’re probably being watched.”

He did as you ordered but hissed, “You don’t know my mother. She is dangerous and capable of
more than you might know. You shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place but now that you
are, you need to stay with her plan. You aren’t helping us, you aren’t going to spy for us. You are
going to do exactly what you have been. Keep reporting to her about me, placate Jeon, and never
mention it to anyone ever again. Do you understand me?”

“I don’t take orders from you anymore,” you huffed.

He felt a hand on his back that snaked up to his shoulder and your face dropped. “Yoongi, your
mother wants to introduce you to someone. She asked me to fetch you,” Jiwoo’s said, entirely
unaware of what she walked into.

It had always been a delicate balancing act being a Min, hiding your emotions and only showing
what you needed in front of your audience, but that moment proved to be the most difficult. You
hadn’t listened to him, he knew you were still determined, and a sick panic still swam in his gut but
he needed to play his part. His heart still pounded in his ears so loudly that he was surprised no one
else seemed to hear it, a sweat had formed on his back and his shirt clung to his skin, but he forced
out a flat—that was the best he could do—, “Of course. I’m coming.” He tried to muster a smile for
her in an attempt to get her to leave and assume he’d follow her dutifully but she seemed unmoved.
He turned back to you and his friend and whispered, “I don’t want to hear about that ever again.
From either of you.” His eyes zeroed in on the younger man and the way he couldn’t meet Yoongi’s
stare. “End it, Hoseok. This isn’t happening.”

He left the two of you behind him but the conversation never ended in his head. He saw you and
Hoseok continue to talk after he had left but Jiwoo clung to him for the rest of the night and his
mother seemed intent on introducing him to every stranger in the room. It didn’t sit well with him.

He had known at the beginning of the night that he would end up taking Jiwoo home with him but
his mother’s reminder to send her home happy, complete with a pointed look and a hushed warning
to be safe until her father had agreed to her terms for their marriage—something Yoongi had never
agreed to—soiled the urge. It wasn’t something that he was looking forward to necessarily but it was
needed. He hadn’t slept with anyone since you left and though he had taken care of himself countless
times, his mind always veered to memories or fantasies of you. It wasn’t healthy and all it did was
feed into his delusional hope.

Jiwoo was the perfect choice for him to get over you. She was gorgeous, men had been fawning
over her all evening when they thought Yoongi wasn’t paying attention—tall, slender, with long
dark hair and delicate but striking features. She was poised, graceful, and, most of all, his mother
approved of her. He wasn’t putting her at risk by keeping her around. Mrs. Min knew that he wasn’t
enamored with her the way he was with you and that would protect her when the delicate house of
cards they had built finally fell. She wasn’t his first choice to be in his bed but she was the safest and
that was the best he could have.

She looked pretty under him, her hair sprawled over his pillows, her cheeks tinted pink with a rush of
heat, her lips swollen from his kisses. Her fingers trailed his arms, now bare after she had tossed his
shirt on the floor somewhere in the room, and he waited for a spark—hell, he’d settle for a tingle—to
appear but he was left wanting and waiting. Her legs wrapped around his waist and pulled him into
her until he rested against her nearly naked body, only a sheer, dark red lingerie set remained. She
was a dream, warm skin, expensive perfume, a quiet voice whispering in his ear, “I’ve been wanting
you like this all night.” Yet, Yoongi was a tense ball of nerves, his back rigid, his mind anywhere but
on her no matter how he tried to force it in that direction.

His thoughts drifted tirelessly to black lace, garter belts, the sound of rain against an umbrella, the
way his name sounded when it was twisted around a certain tongue. If he had been able to stop there
then closing his eyes and pretending her voice was yours might have worked but nothing about you
was easy so his mind slipped into memories of mascara stained cheeks, a slap against his cheek, and,
worst of all, your admission hours earlier that you no longer felt safe. You were out there somewhere
in the city, possibly in danger, and he was holed up in his condo with some woman he hoped would
be his cure. His stomach twisted. Alcohol and guilt were never a winning combination.

She rolled her hips against him and Yoongi winced when he realized what she wouldn’t feel. Her
lips faltered on his neck for a moment before she trailed her tongue to his ear lobe. “Everything
alright, baby?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he huffed out, his eyes snapped shut and his hands fisted into the sheets.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve been together so if there’s something else you want me to do—,”
she cooed and let the question hang in the air as her hand slipped between their bodies and towards
his pants. Just as her fingers reached his zipper he pulled away from her but couldn’t meet her eyes.
She already knew he wasn’t hard but it only added insult to injury for her to touch him when he was
so flaccid.

“I need-I-I just need to go to the bathroom for a minute,” he whispered and hurried off the bed. “I’m
sorry, I’ll be right back.” He couldn’t even give you the dignity of a reassuring smile before he
scurried away.

With the bathroom door closed he could finally rub his temples and hope that it would somehow
work you out of him. It was true that for the first few weeks after you had ended the arrangement and
he had realized how he felt about you, that he took a sick pleasure in his own pain and allowed,
maybe even secretly encouraged, himself to slip into fantasies of days never happened or ones too far
gone. He lived there, in the hazy edges of reality, and let himself rot in the self-pity of a love lost
before it truly began but those days were behind him. Since the summer came he had tried to push
you out of his every thought and concern but if you were stubborn, the ghost of you was tenacious.

The marble of his counter was cold against his sweaty palms and he vaguely thought that clammy
hands weren’t high on a woman’s list of things they wanted to find in their partner’s beds. He lifted
his head and caught his own reflection in a dagger of a glare. His fringe clung to his forehead, damp
not from arousal but a raging frustration. His chest was bare and the button of his pants was undone
but otherwise he was dressed—dressed and hiding in his bathroom while one of the most beautiful
women he had ever met waited for him in his bed, willing and eager.

Even standing in the bathroom, hiding from the disappointed woman in his bed, he couldn't take his
thoughts off of you and the growing crisis at hand. A man had died that day and Yoongi was
partially to blame. His mother was a loose cannon, far more dangerous than he had anticipated, and
each person involved was at risk. His only potential leverage had been housed in the warehouse that
now lay in ruins. He had nothing to offer to protect anyone and the one ending still left to him, the
only way he could see accomplish his goals, seemed impossible. You thought he could choose to be
a better man but what would you have thought if you knew how he cowered from his only means to
protect you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He spat the words out at his reflection and wished the man in the
mirror could respond with some hint of a solution. Any other man in the world wouldn’t have a
problem with being aroused if a woman like Jiwoo wanted them and the shame dug in deeper. He
grunted out some curses and shoved his pants down to the floor before he spit in his own hand. As
stubborn as you might be, he was your match and he wasn’t willing to bow out without a fight.

He grabbed his cock and tsked at the puny state it was in, not even a hint of an erection, before he
closed his eyes and focused on the last time he had slept with Jiwoo not long before you stormed into
his office that first time armed with your pesky post-it notes. He moved over himself with a furious,
almost painful, intensity as he willed himself to be lost in the memories. She had shorter hair then, a
length that just grazed her shoulders and that night he couldn’t take his eyes off of her lips. She had
worn some crimson lipstick that night and it had smeared beautifully over her face as she stretched
her lips around his dick—an eager performer that night. His hand had lodged in her hair with a tight
grasp as he met her every bob with a thrust of his hips.

He risked peeking at his reflection, like it would tell him something different than his own hand, but
the weak, limp truth stared back at him. “Come on,” he whined and spit in his hand again before
returning to his determined effort. “Just fucking do it,” he muttered but it helped nothing. He had
already been in the bathroom too long, Jiwoo surely knew he was trying to force himself into the
arousal that should have come naturally and every minute he spent in the small room only amped up
his shame. Even when he gave himself permission, albeit grudgingly, to slip into fantasies that never
had a chance to come true: you in his bed, slow and sensual movements, even him kissing you—
something he regretted never having been the one to initiate—he remained a puny sight.

The strangled sigh he made wavered and leaned more to a soft sob but he retained just enough
control to not allow himself to shatter before he got Jiwoo out of the apartment. When he returned
from the bathroom, she was seated on the edge of the bed with her head tilted to the side and a
gentle, understanding smile on her face. “It’s not you,” he said and it was the only thing he could
offer her. Maybe one of them could retain their dignity from the night.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. She and her father were as good as in his mother’s pocket. “I just had too much
to drink. Another time?”

She nodded and didn’t fight him, probably knew that her father would lash out at his mother and
demand his cooperation if she wanted Jiwoo’s families support. She dressed and left him behind with
a quick kiss and a promise of another date, one that Yoongi already dreaded. At least before you
came into his life he had been able to sleep with her after his mother forced him to charm her for an
evening.

He loved you and he had tried to destroy you but it seemed you were the one who had broken him in
the end.

Barely a week had passed since that shameful night before Yoongi received a phone call from
Hoseok. It was the middle of the day and Yoongi was stuck in a meeting, but months had passed
since Hoseok had reached out for him so he hardly felt guilty about stepping out of the room to
answer. There was a sick feeling in his stomach that bubbled every time the phone vibrated in his
hand. Nothing good could come from a phone call out of the blue from someone who had been
inexplicably absent for so long. He found an empty conference room just next door from the one he
had been in and closed the door behind him before he answered.

As it turned out, he didn’t get a chance to greet his friend. Hoseok didn’t wait for such a friendly
gesture and instead spit out as soon as the ringing stopped, “She fired her!”

Yoongi’s mind instinctively thought of you and his head snapped to the window in the room to scan
the work floor. You were safe and at your desk, your own attention focused on him, head tilted like a
curious puppy. He didn’t have time to settle your worries with Hoseok’s frantic panting over the
phone. “What do you mean? Who has been fired?”

“Mom!” Yoongi heard an engine roar and murmured voices in the background of the call and his
friend’s voice warbled at a steady pace. “Your god damn mother fired her this morning.”

He tried to place the puzzle pieces together, tried to shove them into place so things would make
sense but he was missing too many to get a clear picture. Mrs. Jung had been working for the Min’s
longer than Yoongi had been alive. She was diligent, never missed a day, had been loyal to the
family and kept every secret she had no doubt heard within the confines of the house’s walls, and
had gone above and beyond her job by taking a young Yoongi under her wings when his parent’s
hadn’t the time or the motivation to do the same. There wasn’t a single time that he could remember
where she had crossed Mrs. Min. If anything, she had tried to steer him back to his mother more
times than she probably should have. He couldn’t fathom the reason his mother would’ve fired her so
abruptly.

He didn’t realize he was pacing until a faint knock on the window over looking the work floor pulled
him out of his thoughts. He was on the opposite side of the room from where the door and his hand
had found its way to rub at the back of his neck. You were all worried wrinkles above your nose and
wide eyes but as soon as he lifted his head in your direction you darted to the door and let yourself in
without his permission. “What’s wrong?”

He ignored your question, there were more pressing ones to ask. “Hoseok, where are you? Where is
mom?”

“She’s at her apartment. She just called me so I am running to the subway,” he panted.

“I’ll meet you there,” Yoongi said and ended the call without waiting for a response. He moved
towards the door without wasting another second and tossed out a casual and vague, “I have to
leave. Something has happened.”

You followed behind him with a firm refusal to let your questions go unanswered. “Is everything
okay?”

“No,” was his only response before he opened the door and rushed towards his office with you in
hot pursuit.

As soon as his office was door was closed off from prying eyes you continued your barrage.
“Yoongi, what’s happened? Where are you going? Is Hoseok alright?”

He grabbed his bag and shoved his belongings in with all the care of a bull. “Hoseok’s mom is our
families maid and she was fired today.”

“Oh.”

“She’s worked for my family longer than I have been alive. She’s not involved in anything that
Hoseok and I are doing,” he said while he skimmed through the papers on his desk. “My mother
fired her and there’s not a single reason I can think of for why she would. She’s always been loyal
and a hard worker and—where the fuck is my god damn phone?” He continued shuffling the
contents of his work around without noticing that you closed the space between the two of you. He
only became aware of your presence when you slipped your hand into his pants pocket and retrieved
his phone, where he had placed it after hanging up with Hoseok. You held it out for him and all at
once it dawned on him that you were too closely tied to the entire situation. If his mother had
snapped, was picking off loose ends, shedding all the dead weight, then your name could be on her
list. “Uh, thanks.” He took the phone and tossed it into his bag before he swiped at his nose and
licked his lips. He didn’t understand why his heart was racing so fast. Nerves? Anxiety? Panic? Or
was it the way you were suddenly too close and the familiar scent of your perfume had wafted his
way? “Listen, uh, I’d really appreciate it if you’d come with me.”

Your eyebrows raised but you didn’t move. “What? Why?”

It was difficult to think clearly when you were within arms reach. “I’m not sure what my mother is
doing. I don’t understand why she fired Mrs. Jung and,” he stopped to swallow his nerves but felt the
same pressure in his throat as before, “I’d feel better if you were with me.”

He expected you to say no, to scoff at him and yell, but instead you stared back at him, still too close
and too far away, and nodded without much thought. “Okay. Let me grab my purse. I’ll meet you at
the elevators in a minute.” You were true to your word but in both of your frantic race to leave you
failed to notice how intensely Yoojung and Jeon watched you from Minsung’s desk.

Yoongi tried to answer your questions as he sped along the city streets but the truth was that he
didn’t have many answers for you. Neither he nor Hoseok had predicted his mother would have
escalated so quickly, and he was sure that this was revenge in some way, and the uncertainty was
what was truly terrifying. When his mother had been fairly predictable, nothing shocked him for
long. He could read her, her plans, her intentions, but going off script? He had no idea where she
may strike next.

Mrs. Jung lived in a decent apartment, Hoseok and Yoongi wouldn’t accept anything less. It was
small but well kept with a keypad entry and a gated courtyard. She was a simple woman who had
insisted on something in a cheaper neighborhood but neither Hoseok nor her surrogate son would
hear the idea. Yoongi provided the deposit and they both ensured that any expenses she couldn’t
cover were taken care of quietly, often times without her noticing. The apartment itself was drenched
in the morning sun, the smell of coffee and potpourri hung in the air, and the windows were lined
with well maintained green plants. Her apartment felt more like he had returned home than the house
he had grown up in. Love seemed to seep out of the walls and embrace him in a tight hug as soon as
he entered. A mother’s welcome.

Hoseok and Mrs. Jung were seated on her couch, his arm draped around her shoulders, when you
and Yoongi walked in using his key. He tossed his bag to the side and stormed to them. He kneeled
on the floor in front of her and enclosed her hands in his own. He hadn’t noticed them until that very
moment, whether it was due to the harsh light of morning or the fear that he had carried with him in
his rush to see her, but the skin around her eyes and on her hands had wrinkled, her cheeks weren’t
quite as round as he remembered, and her hair had started greying. Time wasn’t kind to anyone.
“Are you okay?” It seemed a silly question, if she wasn’t then Hoseok would have already yelled at
him for it but he needed to hear it from her.

“You too? You both exaggerate too much. It’s just a job,” she said with a comforting squeeze against
his hands.

“It’s not just a job,” Hoseok scoffed. “You know what that bitch is like.”

“Hoseok,” she hissed and shook her head.

Yoongi laughed with a deep chuckle that he didn’t know he could produce with all the worries piled
on his chest. There was something nostalgic and peaceful about her admonishing either one of them.
“He’s not wrong, mom.”

She sighed and pulled her hands out of his to point at him. “And you should know better than talking
like that about your mother in front of me. I don’t care for it, Yoongi.” His lips pulled back into a
smile, one mostly made of gums, and he nodded while lowering his eyes to look at the floor. She
was always kind, even to those who didn’t deserve it and it was something he would never
understand but loved the most about her. After all, if she hadn’t held so tightly to the belief that there
was good in everyone then she likely would have never taken him in as her own. “Now, I know that
I taught you better than to bring a guest and not introduce them. And a beautiful woman at that,” she
tsked.
“Of course,” he chuckled and stood from the floor to beckon you closer. As he introduced you, it
was hard to miss the way her grin grew or the knowing look she cast his way.

She pushed Hoseok towards the end of the couch with a quick, “I know I taught you better than this
too. Make room for our guest. What has gotten into the two of you?” Mrs. Jung pulled you into the
couch to sit next to her and the image struck Yoongi as something from an alternate universe.
Fantasies about introducing you to the woman he considered to be his mother figure over brunch
were easy to slip into when the two of you seemed so cozy and at home with each other. He
would’ve let himself go for a few minutes while Mrs. Jung questioned you about all the specifics
mothers seemed to care about except that Hoseok’s attention was wholly focused on him. He was
leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together in front of him. The
vibration of one of his legs shaking against the floor was slight but Yoongi felt it in his own feet.

The older man quirked an eyebrow at his friend, a silent question to which the younger nodded
towards the hallway off the main living space that led to the single bedroom and bathroom. Both men
stood at the same time and Hoseok only offered a muttered, “We just need to talk about something.
You ladies enjoy yourselves,” to your questioning looks.

Once they were out of earshot, Yoongi turned on his friend in the hallway and fired off all of his
questions. “Is she really okay or is she just placating is? Did my mother say anything to her about
why? Why would she fire mom though? Does she think she's helping us?”

Hoseok hung his head and shook it sadly. “I don't know.”

“Oh come on, you've got to do better than that.”

He rubbed his face and sighed before he leaned back into the wall for support. “I mean, she seems
fine but I think she isn't willing to admit that something is going on. She knows that being fired after
34 years of employment means that there’s got to be a damn good reason for it but she doesn’t know
it's because of us. We should have told her what we were doing, Yoongi,” he said with a guilty
frown.

“We didn't know she would lash out at her.”

“I know, I know.” His voice was flat and sounded like a lie but Yoongi didn't want to push him too
much. “You know what she told mom? She said she couldn't keep her around anymore because she
expects loyalty and mom can’t give it because—.”

Yoongi furrowed his eyebrows and scowled, unconcerned with the rest of the explanation. “That
doesn’t make any sense. She’s worked for my family for decades, why would she think anything is
different with her now?”

Hoseok looked at the floor and muttered, “Who knows?”

“I’m going to call her.”

His friend’s head snapped up, eyes wide and mouth parted. “You can’t do that.”

“Of course I can. She has to know that I’d get a call about it immediately and be livid. She is
probably waiting for my call now,” Yoongi said and waved his hand in the air as if to brush off the
younger man’s concern. “It’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

Hoseok didn’t offer a counter before he had dialed her number and the whine he made with his eyes
closed and head collapsed back on the wall, a quiet, “Please don’t,” didn’t register in time for Yoongi
to stop the call.
She picked up almost instantaneously but feigned surprise with a thick, mocking tone. “Dear, what a
surprise! To what do I owe the good fortune of a call from my son?”

It was insulting to hear her glee at his rage but that’s not to say he was shocked by it. He had never
known a time when he was anything more than a tool she used for her own purposes and
amusement. “I heard you fired Mrs. Jung.”

“Oh my, word does travel fast,” she sighed, playing the part of the concerned but he had no doubt
her lips were curled into a wicked smile. “Yes, I’m afraid I had to. Things just weren’t working out,
if you know what I mean.”

“I’m afraid I don’t, mother. She’s worked for us for so long, what could have changed?”

She didn’t answer right away until he called her name. “You know, Yoongi, I don’t ask for much.
I’m a simple woman, really. I don’t demand people’s love, their friendship, their compassion, or even
their time. The only thing I need is loyalty from those around me. Dedication, respect, and
obedience, that’s what trust is built on. How could I let a woman like her into our home when she
and her family can’t be trusted?”

Yoongi’s eyes darted absentmindedly around the floor of the hallway as he listened but it didn’t
make sense to him yet. “I don’t understand.”

“You mean you haven’t figured it out yet? And here I was, thinking I had raised you to be observant.
You’ve grown too complacent, dear.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know, I never much cared for Hoseok. I let you keep him in your life because he seemed
harmless enough. Ever since you were children you clung to each other, more like you were brothers
than he was the help’s son. I thought, at worst, you would grow out of your fondness for him and, at
best, we could always spin your strange attachment to him as an act of charity—it truly is a cruel
world when a boy is forced to grow up without his father. Here you are, a man of thirty with an
entire company counting on you and yet you still choose to spend your time and energy with him.
The only difference is instead of playing basketball in the yard, you’ve opted to pretend to be
detectives with him, isn’t that right?”

Yoongi still didn’t understand what she was driving to but was acutely aware of the way Hoseok
wouldn’t meet his stare, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his hands pulling at his clothes, drumming
against the wall, anything to avoid looking at his friend. It was hard to breathe suddenly in that stuffy
apartment and his stomach jolted as if he would hurl right there in the hallway.

“Oh,” his mother chimed in again with a perky voice after Yoongi hadn’t answered her question,
“but he’s not the only one you’ve been spending all your energy on, is he? You know, I was sure
when I saw the failing quarterly reports that first time that you just needed time to settle into your
position. I’m not cold. I know that being in charge has it’s fair share of stress and it is unreasonable to
expect you to adapt so quickly. That first time I saw that girl you’re so preoccupied with at the office,
I didn’t think much of her—you could do much better, dear—but when you ran out to stop me from
talking to her, well, let’s say my suspicions were raised. However, I ran into Hoseok not long after
that and everything was more clear.

“I didn’t mean to meet him but he happened to be walking on the street when I drove by and there
was just so much snow on the ground that I decided to offer him a ride home. He was drunk and
angry—at you, no less—and I didn’t know he would be so easy to dismantle. He was only too eager
to tell me about your fuck doll. I have to be honest, dear, the name was a bit crass. I was
disappointed.” Yoongi tried desperately to pull his eyes away from Hoseok who had cowered down
the wall to sit on the floor but he stayed locked on the man, hoping he’d discredit her story somehow.
“It seems you’ve rubbed people the wrong way. Your poor friend was rejected by a woman simply
because he is close to you and he made it seem it wasn’t the first time that had happened. He’s not
one of us, he never has been. He’s one of those saps who believes in true love and honesty, all those
greeting card sentiments the weak hold so close, and yet there you are, a black cloud that hangs over
him. It doesn’t matter how bright and warm he is, being with you taints all of that. He can never be
truly good, can he? Not if he accepts and stays with you. It would mean he condones too much. I
wonder how much rage and resentment is bubbling underneath his skin, don’t you?

“I assumed, incorrectly, that he was loyal to you. I had trusted that you had him wrapped around
your finger but it turns out that wasn’t really the case, was it? He gave me that girl’s name and the
ammo to offer her revenge. I would have never known about your stunt at one of the company
parties had it not been for him. She’s involved in this now but make no mistake, Hoseok may have
given me the details but it was you who drove me to this decision. Their fate rests on your shoulders.
Maybe this hurts you, Yoongi, do know that is not my intention, but the truth is you don’t have many
people in your life, do you? And the pitiful few you do have, well, they seem to be abandoning you
lately, hmm?” Hoseok’s eyes finally found Yoongi’s but they didn’t offer him the hope he had
wanted and he had to remind himself to breathe no matter how much it hurt.

Her voice sharpened and every word was a deep cut, one that he wasn’t sure would ever fully heal.
“First, that pretty little girl you’ve been fucking behind my back while our company started to crack
and, now, your only friend. You’d think that there would be some kind of bond that you’d formed
with them that would have made it difficult but it was dreadfully easy to turn them on you. I only
offered them a chance at revenge, a shot at hurting you the way you had done them. That’s all it
took. Think about that, dear, before you continue with any foolish scheme you may have plotted in
that head of yours. I’m the only one who has ever watched over you. I am the only person who cares
about you at all. You always seem to forget that that maid isn’t your mother no matter how many
times you call her mom. Hoseok is not your brother. That girl will never love someone like you the
way you do her. I am your family and I am the only one who has ever really had your best interests
at heart. I have protected you your whole life and now you owe me your loyalty. You belong to me,
Yoongi. You are made of me, don’t forget that. Everything you despise so much about me is there in
your bones. How does it feel knowing that your makeshift family is made up of nothing but
strangers?

“Fear is a powerful weapon, dear. You can make people do anything you want if only you give them
a reason to fear you. When I saw Hoseok and that whore of yours scheming alone at the gala,
plotting against me right there at my own party, I knew I needed to rein everyone back into their
places. That was easy to do. Hoseok’s priority is his mother, not you, and he will do whatever he has
to in order to protect her. He won’t cross me again because I’ve gone off script, haven’t I? Neither of
you know what I’m planning to do next or the lengths that I will go to in order to set you straight,
Yoongi. What is it that scares you? What is it that keeps you up at night?” She paused though he
suspected she knew he wouldn’t—and couldn’t, given the terrible lump lodged in his throat—answer
her. The truth was that the thing that kept him from sleep was you but he would never admit as much
to her. “Keep this in mind, Yoongi. You are mine and so are your friends and you will stay that
because I truly don’t mind getting rid of my property if it is troublesome.” She didn’t tell him
goodbye, didn’t do him the disservice of feigning some cordial farewell before she ended the call.

He heard the call end but continued to hold it against his ear as he blinked rapidly. He wouldn’t cry,
not there. He wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction. He could only control that much.

It was a lonely thing to watch the only relationship Yoongi ever gave himself implicitly to crack and
fracture before it broke all the way down. It was a sharp sorrow that gouged into his chest to firmly
settle on and smother his heart. Hoseok still sat on the floor, a quiet ball of shame, and looked up at
his friend with his own glassy eyes. He swallowed once, twice, and opened his mouth to let his rage
explode into the room but the only sound that he could muster was a quiet, “Why?”
 Chapter 09
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

There was a stillness in the air like the second before an explosion, where everything remained calm
and everyone seemed unaware of the impending violence. Ms. Jung was polite and kept the
conversation flowing even though you were more interested in whatever Yoongi and Hoseok had
hidden in the hallway to discuss. Try as you might, you failed to hear anything other than
indistinguishable murmurs until finally, Yoongi’s voice roared, “Answer me!”

Ms. Jung moved at once and you followed her to find the two men on opposite sides of the hallway.
Hoseok was crumpled on the floor, his legs sprawled out in front of him, but his head remained
turned up with a stern jaw and a shaky stare directed at his friend.
Yoongi, however, stood with his hands curled into tight fists, phone trapped in one. His chest rose
and fell much too quickly for your liking and a violent red tinged his cheeks but what caught your
attention and sent a terrified shiver down your spine, was the look in his eyes. In all the various states
of undone you had seen him, you had never witnessed the weak man in front of you. His eyes were
wide with a sheen that threatened to break. “You—,” Yoongi started but his voice caught and broke
before he cleared his throat and tried again, “you owe me that much.”

Neither man acknowledged the new presence in the hallway. They seemed lost in their own world,
detached from reality to mourn their destruction one last time. The two of you were intruders in their
space and you suspected Ms. Jung felt just as uncomfortable as you.

Hoseok sniffled and you noticed his mother reach out her hand for him before she drew it back, too
afraid to break their moment, cautious of how fragile it was. Her son licked his lips without a glance
her way and let out an unsteady breath. “I had to, Yoongi. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Bullshit!” He spat out like the excuse left a bad taste in his mouth.

“I was scared of what she would do to Mom if I didn’t tell her what she wanted. I was scared of—.”

He was cut off by a loud bang as Yoongi slammed his fist against the wall behind him. “At least own
up to it. Don’t hide behind that excuse,” he hissed and his eyes narrowed into a glare. His voice was
low, a sharp growl from deep within his chest. “Don’t you think you’ve been hiding enough from
me? Come clean.”

Hoseok’s head dropped until his chin met his chest. He heaved out a great sigh and shook his head in
a dramatic way, the movement tossed his dark hair back and forth with it, before he met his friend’s
stare again. “I was drunk, Yoongi. I wasn’t thinking clearly and I was mad at you because Yoojung
thinks I’m just like you—everyone always thinks I’m the same kind of person as you.” Your eyes
darted over to the other man but he remained stoic and unmoved other than the subtle flexing of his
fist around his phone.

“It's that bad? It is so awful to be compared to me that you’d tell my mother about her?” His question
was vicious and doused with anger as he jutted his hand your way, the first sign that either man was
aware of you or Ms. Jung standing in the area. The woman looked at you with her eyebrows raised
and a worried frown etched across her face but you only caught the look out of the corner of your
eye, your focus now solely on the man on the floor.

With mouth downturned and a deep furrow burgeoning between his brows, his lips twitched with
unspoken words, threatening to finally spill out. You weren’t sure if Yoongi understood the position
of his friend, the cowered shoulders, the hands balled into tight fists at his side, pushing and flexing
against the floor. You knew the look of someone fighting back the urge to explode. He was a ticking
time bomb and Yoongi was in direct line of the blast.

“Answer me, Hoseok!”

His voice came out a strained hiss, his tongue lashing out behind his teeth, the last barrier holding
back his rage. “I didn’t know she’d bring her into it.”

The older man’s eyes bulged, his mouth hung open with a dramatic scoff before he whispered, “Just
admit it, you wanted to hurt me and this was the best way to do it.”

“Yoongi,” Ms. Jung pleaded but the man wasn’t moved. His focus was too narrowed on his friend
and the betrayal to notice the state of the woman. She clung to a necklace, some pendant in her palm
that you couldn’t see, and worried her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes flickered between the
two. Had you not known that she hadn’t birthed both men, you would have assumed she was the
mother overseeing her sons fighting. You didn’t know the woman but the acute heartbreak on her
face pulled at you and urged you to comfort her. It was small and you didn’t expect her to notice but
as soon as you placed your hand on her shoulder she covered it with her own, like she was desperate
for the lifeline.

“What was I supposed to do?” Hoseok asked and the low, uneven warble in his voice made your
stomach roll. “I was drunk, I was angry and your mother found me. She kept mentioning mom and
how old she was getting, how she might need to hire someone new, someone younger and more
energetic, but how tragic it would be considering our families trust each other.” He bit out of a laugh
before shaking his head. “She laid it on nice and thick about how we were all one giant family like
we are in some goddamn Disney movie but it was there, like it always is with her, the threat. If I
didn’t tell her something she wanted to hear then mom would lose her job. Without her my mom
wouldn’t have a job and I can’t support her! What’s she going to do after spending thirty something
years working as a maid? Where would she go?”

“I would have hired her, Hoseok! You know that. I would take care of her with all of the money and
connections I have so don’t give me that shit. You know I care about her just as much as I care about
you.” His voice just shy of a vicious yell.

Hoseok spit out a callous laugh, all breath and bark, before he pushed himself off the floor to look his
friend in the face, his head shaking with a mocking disbelief. “With what? What money? What
connections?” Yoongi stared back at him but it was hard to miss the way his glare had weakened, his
mouth parted ever so slightly. The face of a man being confronted with something he never wanted
to hear from the person he trusted never to hear it from. “Your entire life has been spoon fed to you
by your mother. All the people who coddle and tolerate you, your cushy job, your lavish condo, your
chauffeur, your fancy suits, and all of your money; it’s all her’s. You have nothing of your own. Do
you know how frustrating that is? How maddening it is to see you squander away money that I could
only ever dream of having? You’ve never had to fucking work for a single bit of it! And you think
you could take care of my mom? Of me?”

It was hard to explain but your eyes refused to leave Yoongi’s face. Having been on the receiving
end of his anger and feeling the brunt weight of being dismantled so thoroughly, each of your fears
and weaknesses brought into the light and be confirmed, you thought it would be more enjoyable
watching him undergo the same pain. Instead of the vengeful joy you expected, you felt hollow. You
hadn’t expected to feel empathy and the realization left you with an acute sense of being untethered
to the ground. You were floating in the memories of your own shame and self-hatred and you saw it
mirrored on Yoongi’s face.

He nodded with small, fluid movements so easily that you would have bought the act if not for the
tense jaw, the balled fists, and the fact that his breath had stopped altogether. Ms. Jung hissed out an
admonishment of her son with a sad breath of his name but neither boy seemed interested.

It was Yoongi who broke first—something you hadn’t expected—in a quiet voice that was as much
a final plea as a statement. “I have always taken care of you.”

If he had meant it to soothe his friend’s anger then it was a terrible balm. Hoseok’s face twisted, his
nose scrunched, brows furrowed, and teeth bared like a wild animal. “What do you want, Yoongi? A
medal? You want to be rewarded for taking in a charity case? Want me to blast it in the papers for
you like your mother would?” His voice raised to a terrible volume, loud enough to make your
shoulders hunch around you as he tossed his arms out and spread them wide. “Everyone look at Mr.
Min Yoongi! So benevolent and kind that he took in a poor bastard child and treated him like a
human. How fucking brave!”

“Hoseok!” This time his mother’s yell was as loud as his and she broke free from your hold to stand
between the two boys, her hands clawed into her own son’s shoulders, her eyes nothing but wells of
concern.

“No, mom! He looks down on us.” Hoseok peered over his mother’s shoulder to aim his parting
shot. “He plays like he is one of us to make himself feel better but he can’t be. He’s a Min, through
and through. That’s all he’ll ever be!”

Yoongi took a sharp breath but only you were watching him closely enough to notice the sound or
the roll it made in his throat like something was caught there and he was tamping it down. No one in
the hallway noticed you or the way your hands itched at your side to reach out for him. You had
stood in his shoes once before while he picked at every fear and sore you had, much the same as
Hoseok, and while you couldn’t know his exact pain, you knew the loneliness he must be shrouded
in.

He didn’t wait for you to offer your support. He spared a few seconds to stare at Hoseok one last
time and without another word spun on his heel to leave. As he passed you, his hand slipped into
your own and pulled you along with him towards the exit without giving you a single glance. You
couldn’t be sure if he heard the frustrated sigh that fell out of Hoseok’s mouth before he started
calling for Yoongi to come back as the two of you fled away from the apartment.

It wasn’t until you were both back in the late summer heat and the bright sun that he finally turned to
you and dropped your hand. He couldn’t meet your eyes, he focused instead on your forehead, the
bridge of your nose, your mouth, anywhere he wouldn’t have to look at you directly. You hadn’t
expected him, the Min Yoongi, to expose anything more of himself than he already had so the empty
look on his face didn’t surprise you—not that you were buying it.

“Yoongi—,” you tried to say his name normally but he must have heard the soft tone, the pity
entangled in your breath because his face twisted into a grimace and he turned away from you to
instead face the street.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said with a sharp edge. You caught him watching you out of the
corner of his eyes though he still chose to face the street. His chest rose and fell with a deep sigh that
softened his words, a concentrated effort on his part. “I just don’t want to talk about it right now.
Okay?”

You nodded and mumbled out a quick, “Alright.”

A moment of silence passed between the two of you, punctuated only by the passing cars and sound
of the city. He ran his hand through his hair and huffed out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry for pulling
you out of there like that but I don’t know if it’s safe for you to be with them now.”

In retrospect, it might have been the last perfect opportunity for you to be honest with Yoongi and
perhaps avoid what was to come. Though you felt your throat tighten around each of the words, you
couldn’t push them out in time. Truth be told, you weren’t completely sure you would have
regardless of his driver pulling the car in front of the two of you. It was only later that you came to
regret letting the moment pass you.

Yoongi held up a hand to you, stopping you in your place as soon as the car came to a halt. He
knocked on the passenger window and leaned in once it was lowered but you couldn’t hear what he
had to say. The driver exited the car with a pleased, “Thank you, sir,” and walked away.

Your eyes darted between him and Yoongi before he opened the passenger door for you. “Get in. I’ll
drive you back to work.”

“You didn’t want the driver?”

“He deserves a day off,” he smiled and closed the door behind you. Once Yoongi was out of your
sight line, you took the moment to memorize the building and street for later. Only when he was in
his seat behind the steering wheel with his door closed did he drop his plastic grin and add, “I really
can’t have him reporting back to my mother how I act after what happened there. She doesn’t need
the validation.”

It wasn’t until you were a few blocks down the road that you finally thought of something to break
up the strained silence. “I won’t tell anyone about that, by the way.” He didn’t respond but you were
used to his calculating and pensive nature. “If you were worried about that,” you added and paused
to see if he’d confirm your suspicion. “I don’t have any intention to tell Jungkook anything more
than he already knows.”

The buildings passed by your window but you weren’t familiar with the neighborhood Hoseok’s
mother lived in. Despite the income from two people going towards the rent, you weren’t able to
afford an area as nice as hers. Sure, she had a modest apartment in a nondescript building but it was
clear that she hadn’t afforded it on her own.

Yoongi’s life had always been a mystery to you but every layer you peeled back never seemed to
quite reveal a full picture. There was a tenderness in the way he interacted with Hoseok’s mother that
you hadn’t seen from him before with his own. The way she held his hands in her own, the softening
of all his edges when he smiled at her, the peculiar way he referred to her as ‘mom’ but Mrs. Min
was only ever ‘mother’. It had only made you more curious about him, endeared him to you a little
more than you expected.

His jaw tightened at some point but you hadn’t noticed when. You could see the tension in his neck,
the angry, furrowed brow pulled tight in the middle of his forehead, and his firmly downcast mouth.
No matter how many times you said his name, whether whispered or stated plainly, he remained
oblivious. You settled back in your seat, content to let him have his space to process the evening’s
events, but when he missed the turn to the freeway that would take you back towards work you
thought to question him.

The harrowing dash he made across a busy intersection during a red light was enough for you to grip
the handle of the car door and say his name more firmly. His jaw moved as if he was grinding his
teeth, his knuckles white against the steering wheel, and the number on the speedometer was much
too high for the street you were on. Whatever consumed his mind seemed to erase you out of the car
and only when you noticed the red light he was rushing towards and shouted his name with all the
fright you could muster did he finally snap out of his thoughts.

When you were in your teens, your father had been the one to teach you to drive. Like most
everything else in your life, you failed to live up to his expectations then as well. He never told you
to your face though. No, that hadn’t been his style. You overheard him talking to your mother in the
dark recesses of your childhood home when you were supposed to be fast asleep.

“She just doesn’t try. It’s all there in her head, I’m sure of it. We didn’t raise an idiot, I don’t know
why she doesn’t apply herself.”

“It’s lucky she was born so beautiful, she’ll have to ride that the rest of her life to get anywhere.”

“I don’t treat her like a child anymore than she deserves to be. If she’s so set on not listening to us
then the least she could do was be good at something other than being beautiful.”

“This wouldn’t be an issue if she had been a boy. You know it, you just can’t admit it to yourself. A
son would’ve listened to me.”

Driving hadn’t been an exception. You weren’t good at it in the way most people weren’t when they
first got behind a wheel. You confused the gas and the breaks, couldn’t find the right time to shift
gears, accidentally left the car in reverse while parallel parking and jumped the curb, drove too
slowly on the freeway, couldn’t demand your space and merge, but your father saw more. It was
another tally mark on his list of reasons you disappointed him. In his mind, there existed some perfect
son of his. A made-up, unreal, completely unachievable image of perfection and you were measured
to it relentlessly. No one could compare. Somewhere along the way you and your father lost the
spark that had held your relationship together as a child when you used to be “Daddy’s Girl”.
Despite his compliments and feigned interest in whatever interests tickled your fancy for a few
months at a time, you got it in your head that he didn’t love you. You were only a reminder of the
son he never had. So when you ran a stop sign by accident and nearly t-boned another car, you had
been surprised that his arm jutted out to land across your chest like some makeshift extra seat belt. It
would do nothing in the event of a crash, of course, but it hadn’t mattered. That his first reaction had
been to try in all his helpless glory to protect you as best he could in that split second, that had meant
everything to you.

“Fuck,” Yoongi shouted and slammed on the breaks. Tires squealed against the pavement and his
arm shot out across the car to land across your chest. You jolted forward in your seat and his hand
dug into what he could grab of your arm furthest from him. He braced against you but you still shot
ahead in your seat. Even a Min wasn’t a worthy opponent for inertia.

In a last-second attempt to avoid the busy intersection, Yoongi spun the steering wheel to the right
and the car fishtailed in a graceless semi-circle. There was the sound of horns and the screeching
from the tires but you didn’t register them at the time as your body tossed violently into the side of
the car, your own scream lost somewhere in the chaos.

The thing about car wrecks is that for those involved, seconds pass in a flash. One moment he had
slammed on the breaks and the next you were thrust forward, held back only by the seat belt and
Yoongi’s well-intentioned but ultimately useless arm as the car spun until the back end slammed into
a telephone pole.

The next moment however, you remembered well. It was an eerie calm, dust caught in the rays of an
early afternoon sun, only your own breath rang through as your mind tried to catch up to reality.
Yoongi’s hand was splayed palm down on the console between the two of you. You looked towards
him but he was already unbuckled from his seat, working his way to you. His lips were moving, a
faint trickle of blood at the corner, but you didn’t hear him quite yet. Something about the dust
floating in the air, the way it hung in the yellow rays of light around him distracted you. Some peace
in the chaos.

“Can you hear me? Are you okay?” His voice finally came through loud and clear, just as it always
had been. His hands cupped your face for the first time that you could remember and he searched
your eyes, darting back and forth between the two with his own. As if he expected they’d answer for
you.

“Y-Yeah. I’m okay,” you said but it came out breathless. The adrenaline rushing through your body
or the way he looked at you with wide, terrified eyes; you’d never know.

“Are you sure?”

There was a set of frantic knocks on something. You could see a man in a sweatsuit outside
Yoongi’s window tapping on the glass, a cellphone in his hands. “Yeah. I feel fine. I promise,
Yoongi. How are you? Are you okay?”

He looked you over again, as if he had any medical training. He turned your chin to look at your
neck before checking the other side and rubbing his thumb across something on the side of your face.
“You’re bleeding,” he murmured.

“Am I? I feel fine.” He paused and continued to rub his thumb over whatever cut had torn through
your skin with a frown on his ruined lips. “Are you okay though? You’re bleeding too.”

“I’m fine,” he answered. The man at the window knocked harder and Yoongi closed his eyes before
letting out a long, drained sigh. When he opened them again, he focused back on you, still trapped in
his hands. “I need you to be honest with me. Do you need to go to the hospital? Do we need to call
you an ambulance?” You shook your head and it seemed good enough for him. His thumb trailed
one last time down the length of your cheek. “Okay. Tell me if you change your mind. Otherwise,
don’t talk to anyone, okay? I need to keep this as quiet as I can.”

He dropped his hands from your face and turned away. As soon as he opened the car door, the man
in the sweatsuit was on him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Yeah, we’re both fine. Thank you for worrying though.” His voice was too pleasant. It was
higher pitched, fake, and saccharine. You wondered how often he had practiced using such a voice
to get out of predicaments. There was a woman at your window, her brows furrowed and her lips
mouthing something that you didn’t care to decipher.

You didn’t move to open the door or lower the window. He had asked you to be silent and you
trusted him. It felt right.

“Hi,” you heard his voice and caught him rushing around the front of the car to the women by your
window, to intercept her. “We’re really fine. We can’t drive the car out, of course, but I’ll get it
towed.”

“You’re both okay?” She asked and looked back to you in the car. You flashed her a warm smile
and waved your hand.

“Yeah! Somehow!” Yoongi placed his hands on his hips and laughed before plastering a charming
smile on his face. “I guess we got lucky.”

“You must have,” the guy in the sweatsuit said and looked over the car. “Need me to call a tow
truck?”
“No, no, no,” he waved his hands. “I appreciate it but I can handle it. We just need to get back to
work so if you’ll both excuse me,” he said and pulled his phone out of his pocket. They both looked
you and the car over one more time before leaving but your eyes were fixated on Yoongi. He hadn’t
dialed any numbers and instead was busy watching the pair retreat from the scene. Only when they
had both left in their own vehicles did he get back in the car with you. “And now,” he laughed, no
hint of plastic or practice when he was finally back alone with you, “cross your fingers that it’ll still
run.”

“You didn’t call a service?”

He licked his lips, tongue dipped into the blood for a moment, and turned the key to listen to the
engine weakly come to life. “I don’t need this to be on paper.” He took a moment to rub the side of
his face then mumbled, “I really don’t know the extent of my mother’s web. We’re not that far from
my place though. I guess I started driving us this way when I was thinking earlier.” The car inched
forward with a sad whine and a rough bump. “We’ll go there and get you a taxi home.”

“But what about work?”

Over the ugly sounds of the car you heard him chuckle and when he smiled at you, the crack in the
corner of his mouth split open again and a bright red pool of blood seeped out. “You’re with me.
Anyone who complains won’t get anywhere once it crosses my desk. But if you want to go back,”
he paused and the grin dropped but his voice remained level and calm, “for Jeon, then that’s fine.”

All the time you had spent with him, tucked away in his car or spread across his desk, he’d made it
clear that you’re responsibilities at work were still to be priorities. He never made or excused your
tardiness even when it was his fault. He pulled the car into an underground parking garage under an
upscale building and you watched the shadow cross his face as you descended. “You’ve really
changed.”

There was a long and thoughtful pause where he seemed too concentrated on the broken whine of
the car and parking it before he spoke again. “You should come up with me and rest for a bit before
you leave. Just in case you actually do need to go to the hospital.” You stared at him but didn’t move
even as the car’s engine died down. There was a spark in his eyes and they suddenly danced over
your body, analyzing and critical. “What? Is something wrong? Are you hurting? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. No, I’m fine.” You said it casually but his change of subject hadn’t gone unnoticed. It felt
like a wall he enacted between you two, like a reminder that as open as he had grown to be with you,
you shouldn’t read too much into it. Whatever you were, it certainly wasn’t lovers and it didn’t
appear to be friends either. It was a foggy limbo and for a brief moment after he pulled you out of the
apartment when he deemed it no longer safe and the tender concern after the wreck, you let yourself
slip too far into your hidden fantasies. “Really, I feel alright. I can just go back now.”

“No,” he said quickly and exited the car before rushing to your door and opening it. “I mean, my
conscience would feel better about it if you came up and rested for a while before leaving. I feel
responsible.” It was puzzling to see him move so quickly. You had never known him to move that
fast and certainly not for you. There was a wrinkle between his brows and it seemed permanently
etched when you were around. His hand was extended for you, a complete change from the Yoongi
you knew, and try as you might, heat rushed to your cheeks. You lowered your head, hoped he
didn’t notice and took his hand.

He kept your hand clasped in his as he walked through the parking garage. It was warm, smooth,
free of any calluses, just like you had pictured it when you let yourself slip into daydreams of
unattainable things. He didn’t intermix your fingers, opted instead to wrap himself around your hand
but the weightless feeling in your gut didn’t seem to mind. Every few steps Yoongi turned to look
over his shoulder at you, that wrinkle screamed at you, his eyes were nothing but dark pools of
concern. He didn’t drop your hand, even in the elevator, and you said a silent, grateful prayer. He
touched in the key to his condo and ushered you inside with a gentle palm against your back, fingers
splayed like he was claiming real estate.

He lived in a high rise just close enough to downtown to be considered trendy. The neighborhood
was clean, sterile even with tree-lined roads, dark pavement, and buildings of architectural merit.
There was an elevator for his apartment so he never worried if he could make the flights of stairs
with bags of groceries digging painful lines in his tired arms or thighs burning by the time you
reached your door. Security measures weren't something you could even fantasize about affording in
an apartment, outside of a coded main entry into the building and possibly a doorman who never
looked up from his phone, yet Yoongi had a key entry to the elevator. The stairwell didn’t smell of
old cat piss and there was art lining the halls inside the building. You were lucky if your building
manager tossed up old dollar store decorations for national holidays, let alone addressed the mold
growing in the corners of the bathrooms. You lived in different worlds.

The condo was near the top of the building, only a penthouse floor above it, and the outside walls
were almost entirely glass. From the entry door to his apartment, you could make out the buildings of
the city’s famous skyline only they were much closer than you had ever experienced them before.
Figures moved in the windows but you could only make out hints of silhouettes as the sun poured in.
It felt like you were in a cloud, walking among the gods.

“Here, sit on the couch.” He led you through the open to a square space he had designated the living
room. Though the walls that weren’t open to the sky were painted exclusively white, Yoongi’s
furniture was an unforgiving black. It was sleek, not a shred of old-fashioned charm to be found. He
left you on the couch as he rushed to the kitchen for a glass of water. Stark white walls had only ever
meant one thing to you: temporary living. The apartments you had rented over the years were the
same sterile shade of iceberg. Without a family picture, some token he treasured or a piece of art he
liked, the walls felt overbearing and cold.

When he returned to the couch, he was lost in his phone, thumb scrolling madly across the screen.
There was a lingering scent in the air, stirred up when he moved. Stale, like the walls were built too
tight. All that money for a fancy new build high rise and it never quite smelled like a home.

“Here, lay back on the couch.” He fretted over the pillows then motioned for you to fall against them
but you only stared at him.

“Why?”

“Just humor me, okay?”

Despite the wrinkle between your brow and the downhill slant of your lips, you did as he asked. He
placed the drink directly on the table, missing the coasters lined up in a tray just beyond the glass,
and dropped two white pills and his phone next to it. Down on his knees, next to you on the couch, it
felt like you were a queen. You had spent so much time under him, knees sore and thighs burning,
looking at him much the same way. He stared at your abdomen like he was studying a quarterly
report, willing the answers to drill into his brain, for it all to make sudden sense. You covered your
stomach with your arms and his eyes darted back to your face, the crease still worked between his
brows.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Why are you covering your ribs? Do they hurt?”

A smile pulled at your lips but you bit it down. “Why would they hurt?”

“How about your head? Do you feel like you'll faint? Or are you tired?”

You bit the inside of your cheek harder.

“Is your vision funny at all? Do you see spots or is everything blurred?”

You could taste blood on your tongue but you were sure it wasn't from the accident.

“Come on, tell me something at least. Does your neck hurt? Are your shoulders sore? Your back?”

The sun crossed the room and struck his face as if some higher power wanted you to notice the swell
on his cheek, a blushing red welt speckled with purple. His inky hair was littered with white spots,
likely dust kicked up in the wreck or expelled from the airbags. A dark line traced his neck down to
his collarbone before it disappeared under his shirt and you guessed the mark marring the smooth
skin was a small price to pay for the seatbelt keeping him alive. Despite all that, his attention was
solely focused on you. He didn't seem aware that one of his fingernails had bent back or that his teeth
were smeared with a hint of crimson.

His lips pursed and the cut at the corner disappeared. “It says right here,” he fumed and snatched his
phone off the table to read from whatever was on his screen, “after moderate car accidents, victims
often suffer from sore necks, headaches, concussions, and back pain usually directed in the mid to
lower back. Due to the confining nature of seatbelts, one might experience bruising along the
abdomen or even broken bones. Whiplash is a common result.”

He finished his rant and caught your stare but before he could demand an answer, you let your smile
slip. The cut on your cheek burned when your grin grew wider.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

Memories floated in of your hand in his, fingers working diligently but delicately, a bandage over a
cut, and a long stare where his eyes dipped to your lips with a longing wish that went unanswered.
First aid boxes, reminders of practicality, and unwanted butterflies competing with hot cheeks sprung
to mind and your breath tangled in your thoughts.

Your eyes dipped down to where one of his hands brushed your arm, the pads of his fingers barely
resting against your skin and you wondered if he even noticed the goosebumps that sprouted from
the spot. “You're always so quick to worry about me when I’m hurt,” you murmured, more like a
lost thought than anything else. He didn't move, not even a single blink while he waited for you to
continue and your arm seemed to burn under his touch. All you gave him though was a
contemplative sigh and the pleasure of meeting his stare, “I wonder what that means?”

And just like that day back in the winter and trapped in secret fantasies in his office, the two of you
stared at each other like children playing dare. Each breath was more difficult than the last but you
didn't move an inch. He stayed kneeled down next to the couch, just in line with your shoulders.
You watched him swallow and his Adam’s apple bobbed a little before his chest rose with a deep
breath and yours, anticipating the future, got lost in your mouth.

He broke first. His eyes dipped to your lips for a beat and you remembered the lift in your chest
when you kissed him all those months before. The memories of the brush of his tongue against
yours, his fingers digging into your flesh, and his breath on your neck wound a ball of guilt in your
gut. You had never admitted it to anyone and had tried not to think of it yourself, but in the months
you had spent with Jungkook, Yoongi had been in the back of your mind. Though you had spent
your nights wrapped in your boyfriend’s arms, he had found his way into your bed, a ghost you
couldn’t shake. There, on his couch and his eyes turned back to you with an awful mixture of regret
and longing, you caught yourself thinking ‘if only he leaned in,’ and that ball of guilt plummeted to
the pit of your stomach.

“I should go,” you announced and the moment snapped apart. Your heart raced and pounded and
beat against your chest as if it wanted to break the rib cage that guarded it and jump out but you
ignored it and pushed yourself off the couch. He backed away from you and breathed out a sigh you
couldn't read.

There was a knot in your stomach that weighed you down as you shuffled towards the entry of the
condo. Yoongi trailed behind you.

“What aren’t you telling me?” He asked.

You turned your head to stare at him, wide-eyed and trapped, before you flashed a wide smile. Even
you knew it read as fake. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t give me that. You’re hiding something.” He put his hand on the doorknob, effectively
blocking your exit. “I’ve been trained all my life to read people. You’ve been worried since that fight
with Hoseok.”

You wanted to laugh in his face. Did he not feel the cliff you two had been standing on just seconds
earlier on the couch? The guilty knot in your stomach tightened and an anxious bubble rose in your
chest. There were so many things for you to worry about. You had just been about to kiss a man
who wasn’t your boyfriend. Jungkook was spying on you and reporting your behavior and
whereabouts to Mrs. Min. Hoseok and Yoongi had gotten into a fight that seemingly destroyed their
friendship. And, of course, you were carrying a secret that you feared he had pinpointed beyond
those. In the end, you opted to lace together an innocuous half-truth and hide it behind a pretty smile.
“Of course I’m worried. You should probably go to the hospital. Why wouldn’t I be preoccupied
with that?”

He studied you for a long, tense moment and frowned. He didn’t buy it. “Whatever you’re planning,
be careful. Please.” He dropped his hand from the doorknob and began to move out of the way but
paused when he was set to pass you. His shoulder barely scraped against yours but his voice left a
sprinkling of goosebumps across your skin.
“And that thing on the couch,” he whispered, “I think it’s best if we both ignore that. We all have
momentary weaknesses.”

You trailed your eyes slowly to meet his. He was no longer frowning but studying you again, only
this time you couldn’t read if he found what he was looking for. “Of course.”

“Please go to the hospital if you feel unwell at all,” he said and fixed his attention to sorting a
collection of books, spines crisp and unbent, on the entry table.

“Right. I will,” you nodded. There was nothing left to say but you lingered there, hand on the
doorknob and eyes trained at the same unread books. Each second spent so close to him, his shoulder
still pressed into yours, reminded you of the intense longing just moments earlier. Every breath
brought you closer to a ledge you were terrified to look over. Too scared what you might see staring
back at you.

-------------

Leaving his condo wasn’t easy. It felt like you were stuck to him, maybe clinging to the possibilities
that lay there. The fantasies and dreams that could breathe again. However the ugly swell in your
stomach of guilt and disgust pulled you away, with only an acrid bile left in your throat. With a
rushed goodbye you didn't wait for him to answer, you left him behind in the sterile and lonely
condo. You were fortunate enough to catch a taxi just as you reached the sidewalk in front of his
building, like fate had wanted you away from him as well. You obeyed and poured yourself in. He
didn’t follow.

You couldn't bring yourself to go back to work. Just one quick glance at your phone and you knew
Jungkook was anticipating your return. It was easy to imagine him looking out the windows down at
the street below, eyes narrowing anytime a pedestrian who looked like you passed, or snapping his
head towards the elevator every time the familiar ding announced a new arrival. Each of the
notifications on your screen held his name followed by varying questions of where you were or why
you were with Yoongi. You turned the phone over so you wouldn't see.

All your life you had struggled with your self-worth. A mother that thought women’s only worth lied
in beauty, a father whose expectations you could never match, and a slew of boyfriends unwilling to
praise you for anything other than your appearance took its toll over the years. It wasn't something to
be proud of but you slipped into a reluctant acceptance that your only real value came from your
looks. It was easier to swallow that than to acknowledge that you failed to meet your father's dreams
for you, the one man to value you for something more than your face and body. At least this way
you had some merit, some purpose.

Despite that festering wound, you held firm to the belief—no, the fact—that you were a good person.
It helped. Every poor grade, each boyfriend who grew tired of you, the relentless wedding invites
from school friends already settled into a life full of love, you reminded yourself that you were a
decent and good person. You fucked up here and there, you weren't that successful in school, you
relied on your looks where your skills failed, but you had never intentionally hurt someone. That
wasn't you and it was always a warm balm to return to.

Except…

There on Yoongi’s couch, tucked away from the rest of the world with his scent in your lungs and
his eyes on your lips, you had wanted him to lean in. Even remembering it left your cheeks hot. You
wished he had dipped his head. You longed for the feeling of his lips against yours again and for him
to have finally kissed you first.

A heavy weight pushed on your shoulders and it was almost as if you could feel Jungkook’s arm
draped over you. The truth was you hadn't forgotten him even while Yoongi worried over your
injuries or grabbed your hand to pull you from Ms. Jung’s apartment. You knew your boyfriend
wouldn't like it but you didn't quite care enough to keep from hurting him.

You caught your reflection in the rear-view mirror but couldn't meet your own eyes.

The taxi driver asked, “It’s a fine day today, isn't it?” But the car was silent in response save for the
dull drum of the radio. You glowered at the cellphone in your hand and stewed in your disgust. He
grunted and mumbled something under his breath but you were too rooted in your disappointment
with yourself to care to give him any attention. The buildings outside had grown familiar and you
spotted your destination down the street. You shoved your phone into your purse without checking it
again and passed your card to the driver. As soon as the car stopped, you jumped out and ignored the
insult he hurled your way for a lack of a tip.

Though only an hour had passed, the building was eclipsed by it’s taller neighbors. You found it
fitting. It seemed that secret meetings should always be conducted in the shadows. There was a spark
of tingles that ran the length of your spine but you shook them off—bad omen or paranoia that you
were being watched, you weren’t sure. He was waiting in front of the gates to the small courtyard
just as he promised, a lit cigarette caught between his fingers, ashes scattered across the sidewalk.
“Hi, Hoseok,” you said but it was an odd tone.

His black hair blew in the late summer breeze and you caught a quick flash of his forehead while he
took a drag. His eyebrows were furrowed but then masked again with his dark hair as the wind died
down. “Are you bleeding?”

Instinct directed you to touch the cut against your cheek but you only remembered Yoongi’s thumb
delicately and gently rubbing the same spot. The angry wave in your stomach swelled. “Long story,”
you shrugged but couldn’t shake the feeling he didn’t buy your nonchalance. “Should we talk here?”

“No. Anyone could be watching,” he answered and dropped his cigarette to the ground to be
smashed under his shoe. “There’s too many parked cars here with tinted windows. No idea who any
of them are. We’ll go up to mom’s apartment.”

It felt different in the apartment this time. The sun was blocked by the surrounding buildings, the
living room dim enough that someone had turned on a lamp, and the homey energy from earlier that
day was disturbed and replaced with something anxious and jittery. Hoseok motioned for you to sit
on the same couch you had before but he didn’t give you the same wide grin he had when you
agreed to meet with him at the gala. Yoongi had dismissed your proposal to help him immediately,
hadn’t even considered the possible benefits you bring, but his friend hadn’t been so quick. When
Jiwoo pulled Yoongi away, Hoseok saw his opportunity to strike.

“Do you want something to drink?” He asked like he suddenly was a boy again and practicing good
manners in his mother’s home.

“No, no. I’ll be fine.”

He nodded slowly and sat opposite the room from you. Only then did he finally level his stare to
you. “So you want to help me?”

You noticed the lack of Yoongi included. “I want to help both you and him.”

He shifted his attention out the window, a sour frown firm against his lips. “Yoongi doesn’t approve
of what I want to do and he doesn’t want you involved in any of it more than you already are.” A
brief pause punctuated the moment and he shifted his eyes to you again, “Sorry about that by the
way.”

“Is that how she found out about me? From you?” Though you had witnessed the fight, you’d only
been given pieces of information, no one had painted the whole story.

He leaned forward and braced his elbows against his knees, hands clasped in front of him. “Yoongi
told me about you back when you first started sleeping together. Hey, no judgement on my part, if
that matters.” He cracked the smallest smile, just a hint of a reassuring curl before it dropped. “It’s
hard being his friend, you know? Being around the Mins, they just,” he paused and shook his head,
“eat people alive is what it feels like. Sometimes I’m not really sure if I’m actually my own person.
I’ll find myself agreeing with or being complicit to things I don’t like but I do it for him. And then I
get lumped in as being the same kind of person he is.”

“Like Yoojung did?”

“Yeah, her but she isn’t the only one. Just the latest. I’ve been living in his shadow since I was born
is what it feels like. I don’t think he understands what that’s like.”
“Maybe it isn’t my place,” you said and tilted your head, “but wouldn’t he know about that? He lives
in the shadow of his mother, no?”

Hoseok shifted in his chair. “Then he should be more empathetic.”

The conversation died with a bitter pause. “So what did you have in mind? How exactly can I help
you with Mrs. Min?”

“I want to write an expose on her for the paper. Yoongi shot down the idea, of course, but I think it’s
our best shot. If we get it out there, even just hints of how terrible that family actually is, then we can
perhaps turn the public against her. She already knows Yoongi and I are up to something. There’s no
use hiding it anymore. It might be that the last thing she expects is for us to go public with her
secrets. The environment is right. There’s nothing people love more than getting a reason to hate the
rich. Especially when they hide behind charity events and community outreach programs but stock
their money offshores and thrive in nepotism.”

It sounded like a reach and you wondered if Hoseok’s lost gaze wasn’t because he was trying to
convince himself more than you. “Yoongi doesn't approve of it?”

He puckered his lips and shook his head. “He said it would put me at risk.”

“Is he wrong, though?”

“I don't need him to look out for me,” he said but there was a jagged agitation to it. You’d hit a
nerve. “His mother fired my mom so now my responsibility lies to her, not Yoongi. I have to do
what’s best for her because I'm the only one watching over her anymore.”

There was a kernel of doubt in your chest. A bubble lodged right in the middle of your rib cage and
you opted to trace the floral pattern of the couch rather than look at him any longer. Helping Hoseok
meant directly crossing Yoongi’s wishes. He didn't want you to be more involved than you already
were but from your vantage point, you couldn't see another way out. You had sided with Mrs. Min
back in the winter before, nearly a year ago, and did so out of spite. There was nothing for you to
gain from it other than revenge, making Yoongi's life as miserable as he had made yours in that
moment. It was a bitter pill to swallow that, once again, you had set out with the intention of hurting
someone. Yoongi’s condo hadn't been the first. Perhaps your entire image of yourself was flawed.

“Alright. So what do you need from me? What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to find proof she ordered the storage unit to be burned down.”

“What?” You asked and when he nodded in response you laughed in his face. “How close do you
think we are? She has my boyfriend reporting my every move. She doesn't trust me. All she needed
me for was to spy on Yoongi.”

Hoseok tilted his head. “Why did she want you to spy on him?”

“She said she thought he was purposefully running the company in the ground. She thinks he's trying
to sabotage it out of spite.”

“But why? Was the company failing?”

“She made it seem so. I know we haven't been doing well and there have been rumors swirling about
it at work. She said he must be distracted by something and she thinks it is some plot for revenge.”

Hoseok digested your words and spit them out with a disgusted laugh. “She really doesn’t care about
him at all, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“All that woman thinks about is the company. Why? The company succeeding means she has
money. She doesn’t give a shit about Yoongi and doesn’t care about what you can tell her about
him.”

“Then why go out of her way to have me spy on him?”

There was a rustle of movement in the hallway Yoongi and Hoseok had fought in earlier and Ms.
Jung turned the corner, a women dressed in white. You couldn’t tell if she looked sick like a hospital
patient or holy like an angel. “To hurt him,” she said simply and sat down next to Hoseok. “You’re
wrong, by the way,” she sighed with a sad smile. “It’s not money she’s after. It’s power. Money is
just her way to get it.”

“Hurt him?”

“I don’t want to meddle in your kid’s affairs—so forgive me—but you’re involved with Yoongi,
no?”

Strangely, it reminded you of a movie. That awkward pause when the main character tries to gather
her thoughts because her love interest’s mother has just called her out. There was the anxious swell
in your belly and heat in your cheeks. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. Your
memory flashed back to Mrs. Min announcing she knew you were sleeping with her son and all you
could remember was fear. “I-I-I have a boyfriend, actually,” you finally pushed out and watched her
smile falter.

“Oh really? That’s a shame. I could’ve sworn Yoongi felt—.”

“Mom,” Hoseok interrupted, louder than was necessary. He darted his eyes to you then back to his
mother and you wondered if he wasn’t trying to protect Yoongi even then.

She stared at him for a moment before she nodded slowly, some silent understanding you had only
gotten a fragment of. “Well, regardless, I think if she asked you to watch over Yoongi for her, it
wasn’t done with good intentions. For any of you,” she added with a heavy look towards her son.
“Which is why all three of you should drop whatever plans you have. She is not a woman to be
messed with.”

“But she took your job,” Hoseok argued, a fierce fire in his eyes.

“And let’s leave that as the only sacrifice we are making. Neither one of you know what that woman
is capable of.”

“And you do?” Hoseok scoffed and leaned back in his seat, a twisted look of disgust on his face.
“You expect me to just sit here and watch her destroy your life just because you have been decent to
her son. I suppose that’s what we get for being around the Mins too long.”

Ms. Jung fiddled with her skirt. “I probably don't know the full story myself and I'm not one to
gossip but I suppose for you to understand my worries, you need to know her story.” She smiled at
you with a gentle twinkle in her eyes, “I think this might help you too in your own way. Mrs. Min is
tough. She’s the kind of woman who has fought for everything she has.”

Hoseok barked out a derisive laugh. “She’s filthy rich. She’s had her life handed to her. They all
have.”
“There are two types of wealthy people from what I’ve seen in my time serving the Mins. The old
money and the new money. The old money families carry themselves with confidence. They have a
blasé attitude towards everything, they’ve already seen it all. Nothing really phases them, they're set
and secure. As long as their business proceeds as usual, they haven't a problem. They're the
groomed, pedicure dogs. The ones others fawn over.

“But the new money families, they're scrappy. It's like they can feel how temporary everything is.
There's no security for them and every decision could spell disaster. A lot of them are eaten up by the
old money families before they can really get settled into their rich lifestyles, others blow it all on
extravagance and lose everything. The ones who make it though, they're like stray dogs trained on
the streets. They're mean, vicious, ruthless little things. They trust no one and I do mean no one.

“Yoongi’s family is a mutt. His father came from old money. You've met Yoongi’s grandfather,
Hoseok. He's a callous old man but you wouldn't know it unless you've crossed him. He was always
kind enough to you kids but it never felt warm. It was as if he practiced it, knew all the things to say,
rehearsed it all before he interacted with his grandchildren and then washed his hands as quickly as
he could. That's old money. They do what they need to because it is expected of them but they don't
care to make it personal.

“Yoongi’s father was the black sheep of the family. He had his faults, he was an awful excuse for a
father, but he did genuinely love his wife at one time. That's not something you do when you're old
money. Marriage is a business transaction, that's another way to merge companies and forge new
deals. Love was something you did in the shadows and motels no one would recognize you in. You
see, Yoongi’s mother is new money. Well, to be clear, she’s trash that conned her way into new
money.

“Her family is dirt poor. They live in a rural, dead-end town somewhere, she never mentioned the
name. There were too many mouths to feed and not enough money to do it. I never asked for
specifics—not my place I suppose—but somehow his mother managed to land a charitable
scholarship to this prestigious boarding school. Now how's that for a kick to your ego? You're smart
enough to study with the sons and daughters of the rich and powerful but only got a chance because
you're so poor they took pity on you. She was marked as a charity case and children are always
cruel. I imagine it can't have been a good experience.

“But as we all know, Mrs. Min isn't the type to give up just because things are difficult. The way I've
always heard it from the other staff, she vowed she'd never return to her roots. She wanted to start
anew and leave her past behind her.

“There's not a lot of options for a poor girl in a rich man’s world. She was smart enough to realize
that early on. She knew her best option was to find a man at the school and leech onto him. She was
beautiful, quite the stunning child really from what I could tell in the pictures in the home. It must not
have been that hard to find a man once she proved herself academically. That's how she met
Yoongi’s father. He was naive, a head in the clouds type and she was a planner. He didn't stand a
chance against her. Easy prey.

“She got pregnant right away. His family wouldn't hear of it. She came from the wrong type of
family for their tastes but their son was head over heels for the school’s charity case. The way he
talked about her back then,” she mused and paused, “I think he was always in love with that version
of her, even at the end. But love wasn't what she was after apparently. She grew up in a family full
of love and it didn't put food on the table. She wanted security, the type that old money families
have.

“Yoongi’s father wanted to keep the baby. He had all these noble ideas about the child merging the
families together, reunions and picnics amongst the two. It was a silly notion, really, but he was the
black sheep of the family for a reason. Mrs. Min though, she had other ideas. She bargained with his
parents—or maybe it's more that she blackmailed them. Either they let her marry their son or she
would give birth to their dirty secret and let it be known that their well-to-do son knocked up a
farmer’s daughter in high school.

“It's not exactly a love story but that's their romance. She signed a contract with his parents assuring
her a marriage and she aborted the baby. She told him she miscarried though. Like a fool, he
believed her but that was the kind of man he was. He adored her. It was like she was a goddess, he
worshipped the ground she walked on but I guess he was blinded because he never noticed she
didn’t care.

“There was one thing she messed up along the way. Her contract securing her marriage into old
money said nothing about her access to that life. As willful and strong-headed as she was
blackmailing them, she still was only a teen and she made a mistake. As soon as they were married,
Yoongi’s grandfather cut their father off. He had nothing to his name aside from his wife but that
wouldn’t stand with her. Somehow or another she convinced him to start a business and he poured
himself into it but what no one knows is that she controlled every decision he made. He ran every
proposal, offer, move by her before anyone else and whatever opinion she held was what the
company went with.”

“I don’t understand, why wouldn’t she take credit for it if it was her idea and her work?” You asked.

“His family name was the one that carried weight, not hers. Who was going to listen to a business
proposal from a woman? Especially one with no pedigree to back her up? Who would invest? But I
saw them, back when they struggled to afford to keep me but needed to in order to maintain
appearances—no old money family gets by without a loyal maid, of course—doubled over papers,
talking finances and stock markets or whatever it was late into the night. There were days when I
would come in for work and Mrs. Min was asleep, slouched over the table with stale coffee and
towers of books. Say what you want about her but that woman is persistent. She wanted what she
wanted and she was determined to get it by any means necessary, even if she had to settle with her
flighty husband getting the praise.

“Somewhere along the way, after Yoongi was born, Mr. Min started coming home later than usual. I
never knew why or what changed but I found more and more empty liquor bottles in the trash and he
sometimes came home talking gibberish about women he was meeting. If I intercepted him before his
wife found him, I tried to sober him up with some coffee but it was only a matter of time before she
noticed how sloppy he had become. One night I was tending to the dinner dishes when I heard this
loud commotion and something shatter. I hid behind a wall, just out of sight from them both, and
watched. Mr. Min was red-faced, his eyes were blown wide like they were barely still in their
sockets, and Mrs. Min was seated on the couch with a glass of wine in her hand, a book open in her
lap. He screamed at her that he had been with another woman that night, said all kinds of lewd
things, and I braced for her to attack but she only asked him if anyone saw him with her. He said that
no one had and she told him to make sure it stayed that way. I think that was when he finally realized
that he was the only one in love in their marriage.

“At that point, the children became a burden to him. Yoongi and his brother were reminders of his
dead marriage, of nights when she had spread her legs for him but nothing more than that. Never
anything more. It’s hard to feel bad for him though. He took it out on the kids. If he interacted with
them at all it was either to train them to take over the business or because watchful eyes were around.
He didn’t care about them and neither did she. They were responsible for those two boys but that
was all they ever felt: a sense of duty.
“Yoongi’s brother was old enough to notice the change in his father first. It wasn’t like he ever was a
particularly great dad, certainly not award-winning, but he at least took an interest in his son’s day
from time to time. But after that night, it was as if the boys were pieces of furniture. They were meant
to be seen but never heard. He got out of that house as quick as he could, took the first opportunity
that appeared to study abroad in high school and never looked back. I can’t say that I blame him but
it left Yoongi alone and he took the brunt of it. Mrs. Min took a special liking to him soon after the
study abroad opportunity was announced. I suppose she realized her eldest wouldn’t return so she
needed to groom the baby instead. And still, as much as she preyed on him, watched his every move
even when he didn’t know she was there, she never got close to him. I’m not sure she could recall
his birthday if you asked her, much less what his favorite color or food are. She knows nothing of
her son except what she absolutely needs to. She doesn’t want to burden herself with any more than
that.

“That boy,” she hummed in a sad tune and shifted in her seat to face Hoseok more directly, “I tried to
be there for him. Someone had to be. I’m ashamed to say I never particularly warmed to his brother
but I suppose with you being born only a year after Yoongi,” she said and rubbed her son’s leg, “I
felt a special connection with him. I couldn’t love my child the way I wanted and watch another boy
his age be neglected. Not when they could fit in the same clothes and shoes. I was lucky enough that
Mrs. Min didn’t mind me bringing you to work with me but I suppose, in hindsight, she could’ve
always used it as a sign of their charitable nature should anyone ask why the maid’s son was so close
to hers. You and Yoongi hit it off right way, you know? He could walk before you but you talked
before him. The two of you fed off each other. Oh, I wish you could remember the way Yoongi’s
chubby face lit up every morning when I showed up with you. You might not notice it, but I still see
that same light in his face when he’s with you.”

Hoseok crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I see what you’re trying to do. He’s not one of us,
mom. He can never be.”

“And what exactly are we? What is this ‘one of us’ business? Which is it, Hoseok? Do you think his
family is worse than us or do you think we’re the pitiful ones?”

“He’s a predator! He is spoiled and rotten goods. He is just like his mother in every single way.” His
face twisted around the words like he was forcing them out but he couldn’t meet either yours or his
mother’s eyes. He stared at his feet and watched his feet bury themselves in the rug.

Ms. Jung sat up straighter and removed her hand from his leg, “Interesting. And all this time I
thought the exact reason why he wasn’t like his mother was because of you.” Hoseok shifted
uncomfortably but finally met his mother’s face. “You have been a good influence on that boy,
maybe the only one he’s had his entire life. As much as you resent him, do you wonder how much
he resents you?”

“Me? Why would he?”

“We don’t have much, Hoseok, that’s true but we always had something he never did. You have
never lived a day of your life unloved and unwanted.” She patted his knee and said in a softer,
comforting tone, “Think about that before you throw him away. I know it hurts to be judged by
others but you will always be regardless of having him around. Consider that, from where I’m
standing, you are the only one he has ever trusted implicitly. You’ve seen the disgusting and the
dirty, yes, but only because he believes you of all people—with your inherent goodness—will find
the good in him too.”

Hoseok stared back at her with unblinking eyes but you couldn't read his face. He stood up and
without saying a word, walked out of the apartment. When you turned back towards Ms. Jung, she
was facing you again and carried a sweet, content smile. “Now you, my dear. I hope I’m not
overstepping my bounds since we've only just met but there's something between you and Yoongi
isn't there?” Before you could respond she held up a hand to quiet you and her smile grew. “No need
to say anything that could get you in trouble. I can tell from the way he looked at you and how he
defended you to Hoseok. A mother can always tell.”

Where the gall came from, you couldn't be sure, but you asked, “Do you truly think of Yoongi as
your son?”

“Of course I do. In a lot of ways, Yoongi was abandoned. He might not have been an orphan, he
had a roof over his head far greater than what I could ever provide, but I am the only mother who has
ever loved him. We might not have papers to make it legal but he is my son more than he is hers.”

“But the way you talked about Mrs. Min. It almost sounded like you respected her.”

“Did it? I was impressed with her work ethic but nothing more than that. Really, when it comes
down to it, I certainly don't respect her but I don’t look down on her either.”

“Really? Why not? She sounds awful.”

Ms. Jung nodded and her smile fell. When she wasn't grinning, it was easier to notice the wrinkles
across her face, the sallow tone to her skin. “She is but I can't judge her for being a poor mother
when I only stepped in to help Yoongi because he reminded me of Hoseok. I watched her neglect his
brother and said nothing. I never made an effort to help him and, in some ways, I could've helped
Yoongi more than I did but I played it safe to keep my job, to keep the benefits for my son. I
prioritized my child over two others who needed help.” She sighed and you watched a shadow fall
across her face as she shifted on the couch. “We’re all responsible for how that boy turned out. None
of us left that house without some level of guilt. None of our hands are clean.”

Outside of the apartment building, caught in the lazy afternoon sun, Hoseok waited for you outside
the gate. He smashed his cigarette under his shoe as you left the courtyard behind. “What happened?
Why are you bleeding? What’s that cut from? The real story.”

It crossed your mind that Yoongi might not want his oldest friend to know what had happened but
you opted to meddle. “We were in a car wreck when we left here.”

His jaw tightened and you caught yourself watching his cheeks flex underneath it. “How bad?”

“Well, the car is destroyed,” you shrugged, “but we made it out alright.” Hoseok dropped your stare
and shoved the remnants of his cigarette on the sidewalk into an ugly semi-circle around the toe of
his shoe. “Yoongi’s okay.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Of course not,” you said and couldn’t help but smile. The cut on your cheek burned. “I’ll see what I
can find out about Mrs. Min.”

He pursed his lips and stared at the sun, squinty-eyed and biding his time. “Don’t. Just forget
everything I said earlier.”

“Why? It could work.”

“I’m dropping it. It’s only going to put you in her crosshairs and it’s not likely that we’d be able to
get enough for my paper to take the chance on it anyways.”
“Are you saying Yoongi got to you?”

“All I’m saying is I think he’s right,” he said and after a pause added a quiet, “on this. You shouldn’t
have been involved at all and the fact that you are is my fault. I’m not going to make it any worse
than I already have.”

-------------

The ache in your body had settled in. Each jostle of the taxi home hit hard and all you wanted was to
collapse into your bed, hidden away from everything else other than your thoughts. You couldn’t
bring yourself to head back to work, not with inexplicable scrapes and bruises, not with a smear of
blood on your blouse and the memory of Yoongi’s eyes on your lips. Your roommate hadn’t
returned from work and, as much as you liked her, the absence was a small reprieve from an
otherwise tiring day. It was a short walk from the entry to your room and as you landed on your bed,
you exhaled a tired but grateful sigh.

Buzz

Buzz

Buzz

Him. Again.

Your face twisted into a sick grimace and you tossed your purse across the room. Jungkook would
have to wait. It wasn’t like you had an explanation for his questions, certainly not one he would
accept. There were still a few hours left in the workday and if you played your cards right, you could
afford a short nap and still have time to digest the day and form a lie he might buy. The guilty knot in
your stomach twisted, tighter still.

Things hadn’t always been so volatile with him. Or at least, you hadn’t noticed. It had been a rocky
start at first while you detoxed off Yoongi but that had been your responsibility, your problem, and
Jungkook stayed by your side through it as a friend first and foremost. He and Yoojung filled your
nights with dinners and movies and your days with conveniently timed trips to the break room to
avoid your boss as much as possible. And some nights, after a few hours at a bar and a few too many
drinks, Jungkook would walk you home under the pretense of escorting you in the dark to safety but
you all knew he would find his way to your bed in the end.

There hadn't been a moment, distinct and vivid, where you decided you’d date Jungkook. He never
asked and you never said yes. You just were. People paired you together somewhere along the way
and no one questioned it. You were always together, you slept at each other's places, and there was a
spark between you. It was easy to see, you'd heard that from your coworkers and friends, but they
didn't feel the slow burn it ignited in you.

What had started as a mere infatuation, a timid little crush on the new guy, grew over months into
something you thought might be love. He made you laugh, kept you company when you were
stressed, watched over you and made sure you ate well when work piled up. Most of all, he didn't
treat you like your past boyfriends. He never seemed to grow tired of you and never outgrew you.
Unlike all the others, he didn't only want you until he had his fill and threw you to the side. It was
comforting to be wanted genuinely, for more than a fling or a tally mark on someone’s list.

And only then, with your face pressed into the pillow and a muffled scream lost in the fluff did you
realize that perhaps what you loved most about Jungkook wasn't him himself but rather that he
wanted you.
You rolled over in bed and stared at your ceiling, your eyes trailing over a small crack in the plaster.
What else did you love about him? He was funny, yes, handsome, of course, hardworking to a fault.
But try as you might you couldn't find another reason you loved him. You loved who he was, to be
sure, but were you in love with him or were you in love with the fact that he loved you?

Then you remembered all the things you hated about him. Those flooded into your mind without
effort. The tightening of his grasp on you, a slow, methodical trickery. The questions of where you’d
been and who with that followed any night you were away from him. His wandering hand and how
it found your neck, your thigh, your ass, always staking claim for whoever was watching. The
curious peeks toward your phone and the pointed questions about who you were texting, what they
had to say. At the beginning, it felt innocent. You were learning more about each other, of course
he’d be curious who you spent your time with and what your boundaries in public were. Later on,
you realized you were the frog in that old fable, stuck in a pot of tepid water and only realizing once
it was boiling that you were in danger. When you expressed your discontent, he’d change—for a
time.

There was a disconnect somewhere between you, a small crack you couldn’t find. Did he not
understand you? Did you not communicate well enough? Was he too new and raw to dating? Had
you bent enough to try to make it work or were you too stubborn? After you overheard Jungkook
mention reading the file Mrs. Min had given you about Yoongi outside his office, you could feel it.
That hidden fissure in your relationship, a quiet but ever-present pang. Yoongi saw it in your eyes
that day, you know he did, but you couldn’t admit there was something wrong. Not to him at least.

Yoojung had been unsympathetic. “You worry way too much,” she had sighed and waved her hand
in the air like it would brush away your concern. “Jungkook is in love with you. Obsessed even!
You’re just looking for something to be wrong with him. Could it be that you feel guilty that you
used him as a rebound and now you’re wanting a way out without blaming yourself?” You weren’t
ready to face that possibility and never brought up the topic with her again.

Later, at the company’s charity gala, Yoongi offered you a position on a new team at work. He
seemed confident you were a good fit for them, insisted you take the opportunity, and for the briefest
moment you felt proud of your work and your abilities. That feeling was rare and the swell in your
chest hurt, like a balloon too full of hot air and threatening to pop. But before you could rest in that
moment, Jungkook had shot you down with a quick throw of a dart and let you deflate under his
watchful eyes. At a full table, in front of Mrs. Min, the board members, and most importantly Yoongi
and his date, he insisted you weren’t qualified. In that tirade, he listed out your flaws and failures and
let all their minds roam over it and your boss’ intentions for offering you the spot. Then he mentioned
something he shouldn’t have known—Yoongi drove you home when Jungkook wasn’t around.
Somehow, your boyfriend knew of that day, and you felt that hidden crack split wide open. A
chasm, dark and glaring.

You didn’t trust him and it was clear with the way he flexed his control on you, that it was mutual.

The front door opened, closed, and you braced for the impact. You should’ve never told him the
passcode to your apartment. You should’ve kept one spot safe for yourself. When he opened the
door to your bedroom, you were hardly surprised to see him. It fit his character and it scraped against
every one of your nerve endings.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” It was an accusation masked as a question. Jungkook
crossed his arms in front of his chest, planted his feet to the floor like he thought you’d try to shove
him out, and stared down at you splayed in a pathetic heap amongst your bed sheets.

“I was too tired to get it,” you lied and pointed to where you had thrown your purse.
“And all the text messages I’ve sent you?”

“I forgot to read them.”

His nostrils flared with a particularly violent huff of air. “Where did you go with him?”

You yawned in an exaggerated way, with your fists stretched above your head and followed it with
an annoying smack of your lips. “With who?”

He left the question in the air, studied you, dared you to continue testing him, but you fought back
with your own wide, questioning eyes. “You know who. Mr. Min. Where did you go with him?”

“How do you know I was with Yoongi?” You held out the vowels of his name longer than
necessary and hope it cut under Jungkook’s skin.

He scoffed and looked towards a corner of your room. “I’m not fucking blind. I saw you walk out of
his office together and get on the elevator.”

“So? That means nothing. We could’ve split up at any point after the elevator and you wouldn’t
know.”

He rolled his eyes and turned back towards you. “You didn’t.”

You sat up in bed, draped your legs over the edge and tilted your head to the side like a curious
puppy. “But how do you know that, Jungkook?” He gave you nothing. A steady and heavy stare,
chest squared in front of you, broad shoulders and wide stance—all of it meant to intimidate you,
make you back away from the question. Instead, you swallowed the sharp, violently bitter taste in
your mouth and smirked up at him. “I suppose we’ll chalk it up as a great big mystery again, huh?
Just like we did when you knew he drove me home that one night that you were nowhere to be
found.”

You hit a nerve. His nose twitched and his lips squirmed into a daring smile, all teeth and vicious.
“Don’t start with me,” he said but the edge to his voice rang as dark and foreboding. A warning you
didn’t care to hear.

“Where were you that night? You never did tell me about that.”

“I said don’t start.”

“Yeah, I heard you,” you chimed back, saccharine and sickly. “What is it, honey? Is there something
you don’t want to tell me?”

“Why are you trying to start a fight?”

“I’m not starting anything, Jungkook. You came in here with zero subtlety and rotting with jealousy,
accusing me of cheating on you. All I want to know is if you’re spending your time with Mrs. Min.”

“And if I am?”

“I just want to know. I wouldn’t want to fall out of her grace, of course.” He stayed quiet. Gave you
absolutely nothing. The overproduced smile dropped from your face and you pushed yourself and all
your aching bones off the bed to collect clean clothes. “I’m going to shower. You should leave.”

Only then did he ask, “What happened to your cheek? Why is there blood on your blouse?”

You didn’t look at him. “Funny. I thought you would’ve known already.” Without another word,
you pushed past him in your doorway and he grabbed your wrist, his face now wrinkled and
worried. You snapped your arm out of his grasp and shot a sharp glare at him before leaving him
behind to find his own way out. The water ran cold and uncomfortable before you left the safety of
the shower. At least there, hidden in your small corner, protected from the world, you didn’t have to
face anyone but your own thoughts.

-------------

The days passed but they were stagnant. Like standing water infested with mold, everything only
grew worse.

Jungkook didn’t contact you. At first you wondered if, in a drunken rage, you’d blocked his number.
There was a shameful and pathetic part of you that hoped he’d call, text, anything. You clung to it.
The idea he’d want you above your terrible—though justified—attitude, above all the drama, that his
love for you would surpass all obstacles. You felt greedy, selfish, and dirty but it was there. Every
buzz of your phone, each notification that popped on your screen, you hoped for validation, that
someone still wanted you.

Work was long and tedious. Your desk was too close to him, uncomfortable and claustrophobic.
Each day was a testament to your resolve, you wouldn’t let him win despite your need for security.
He stared at you only ever using the corner of his eyes and you met him with a scowl, daring him to
try for something more. He stopped in front of your desk one afternoon on his way out and spun on
his heel to face you, mouth open with something to say, but Yoojung and Minsung caught him
instead. They remained unaware of the tightrope your relationship was balanced on and for your
part, you weren’t sure you whether or not you were hoping to fall.

“We’re going out tonight with a few other people. Are you lovebirds in?” Minsung asked, his arm
draped over Yoojung’s shoulders.

Jungkook looked down at you, still seated and pen against paper, counting the seconds until he left
your sight. “I have plans,” you announced and turned back to your work.

“With who?” He asked.

“Friends.”

He said nothing and you refused to look up again. A furious stalemate.

“Okay well,” Yoojung let out a hesitant laugh, “how about you Jungkook?”

“Thanks but I have plans too. I’ll see you guys Monday,” he said, voice calm and steady. You
wondered if he was still studying you, trying to read what to say or do next.

You heard him move, saw a flash of his black pants in your peripheral, and felt the words swell from
your bitter gut up to your throat and out your mouth. “Tell her I said hi, will you?” He stopped only
long enough for Minsung to let out a confused grunt then continued on his way.

Only when you were sure he was gone did you look up but Yoojung had moved in front of your
desk, palms splayed against the surface as she leaned in close to you. “I don’t know what that was
about but you two have been odd all week.”

“Couple’s fight. Romantic discord. It was bound to happen, right?” Despite the urge to let it out,
shout to the top of your lungs that you could no longer trust him, you couldn’t tell her anything. One
man had already died after being brought in to mess about with Mrs. Min’s web, you wouldn’t
spread that danger to her. Secretly, there was a part of you that wondered if you could trust her
either. Paranoia was a heavy drug.

“Obviously,” she sighed. “I have to go but I want all the details. Text me.” There was a friendly
smile and a wink then she was pulled away by Minsung. You’d lie later and tell her you forgot.

-------------

By the time you finished drowning your anger with friends and stiff liquor, the sky had opened and
cried for you. The streets were slick in the neon lights of the night with tiny rivers that drained
underground, unseen. Tiny boats of lost leaves floated on, life passing with the season. The smell
clung to the air though like a musty residue. The storm washed away the dirt and grime of the city
but the heady, sour smell remained. It was the time of year where the nights grew colder but the
humidity from the rain left it damp, like walking hand in hand with someone sick—clammy and
unsettling.

You’d convinced them to let you walk alone, give you time to clear your head. Your apartment
wasn’t far, two stops on the subway and a short walk, but you headed the opposite direction. There
was something in the rain that was comforting, a connection you couldn’t quite place. The streets had
largely been abandoned. Most people had gone home or were otherwise hiding in their bar or
restaurant of choice, waiting out the rain.

When you should’ve turned left, you went right. The night felt too good, alone with your thoughts,
lost amongst the streets. Two blocks past the subway station you turned left. Three blocks in you
veered right. You went where the city took you like you were one of the streams draining towards
the gutter, completely at someone else’s mercy. At some point, the wind bit through your haze and
you weren’t ready to fight your demons. Not that night.

As if the city had its own plans for you, like a twisted god, a hole-in-the-wall sign caught your eyes.
It didn’t have the same fluorescent open sign the other buildings did where you had come from.
There were no bands busking in the streets, no gaudy or pretentious signs advertising deals or a good
time dressing its front. It was a lackluster grey stone building, built decades before if you had to
guess, with a heavy wooden door and a single, large pane glass window frosted with the
condensation of the storm. The sign above read like it was pulled from a Dickens novel, Pickwick
Tavern. It was aged and not in a pleasant sort of way. If it weren’t for the yellow light pouring out
the damp window, you’d never have noticed it on the otherwise dark street.

The inside was almost as you expected, an 80’s take on a British pub. The wood panelling that lined
halfway up the walls had buckled in places and the emerald and gold plaid print wallpaper above it
bubbled. The lighting was dim, there was a faint musty smell, and not many people to fill its dark
wooden tables but it was warm, dry, and there was a wall of liquor behind the bar-top. You needed
nothing else.

With a drink in hand, you traced the grain of the wood table, stuck your fingernail in the grooves and
wondered absentmindedly. How old were they? How many sad tales were regaled across their tops?
How many times had they been overturned in a drunken brawl? How much condensation from
drinks left out too long had seeped into the wood? What history had they seen? Anything to stop
your mind from wandering to painful territory and question where exactly Jungkook was that night.

A melody oozed into the moment, lonely and mournful. It hit right. Each sad note washed over you
like warm water, like you were slowly submerging yourself into a bath. First a toe, then your ankle,
followed by a knee, slowly until you were coddled and embraced in the comforting despair. You
turned towards the source and noticed a wooden piano lined against the back wall of the room. It
nearly blended in with the panelling and was obscured by the few other stragglers in the bar, leaned
back in their seats with lazy drags on cigarettes. The player’s back was to you but you were drawn to
the song and needed to be closer. You recognized him before he noticed you, lost in his melody. His
fingers danced across the keys in a slow waltz, his body rocked with the music.

You waited until his fingers stilled and the music died out amongst the quiet din of the bar before you
took your seat on the piano bench, right next to him. His head snapped towards you, completely
unaware he was being watched, like he thought himself alone in the room, just him and the music.
He was slow on the uptake. His pupils were blown open with liquor and his breath reeked of it. “I
didn’t know you could play the piano,” you said with a smile and an affectionate nudge of your
shoulder against his.

Yoongi stared at you a moment longer, as if he was certain you were a mirage or a figment of his
imagination—maybe a wish brought to life—before he smirked and nudged you right back. “You
think you know me now?”

“Mmm a little bit.”

“What are you doing here? I never saw you come in,” he said and scanned the room behind him,
taking a second to pause on each patron’s face.

“I was out with friend’s and decided to take a stroll before I went home but the alcohol wore off and,
you know,” you laughed with a nonchalant shrug, “priorities.”

“You took a stroll?” He asked and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Alone?”

“Do you see anyone else here with me?”

He scanned the room again, “Well I was looking but I didn’t see anyone. I thought maybe Yoojung
was going to appear somewhere and give me a piece of her mind again.”

“But why are you here? I didn’t know you’d go to a place like this.”

“Like this?”

“You know,” you said and trailed off, expecting him to pick up your meaning. He stared at you with
a knowing smile but offered you nothing more. “It’s a little run down for you,” you finally admitted.
“I stumbled upon it by accident but I don’t imagine many people are looking to spend their nights
getting wasted in a dated place like this.

He rocked back with an exaggerated sigh of realization, “Ah, I see. So you think I only go to the
ritzy places, right? I have money so I wouldn’t dare drink in a place like this with such,” he looked
back over his shoulder at an older man with a beer belly protruding from the bottom of his shirt,
“commoners.”

“That’s not it!”

He smirked and leaned in closer until you could see the stubble popping out of from his chin. “The
truth is I stumbled in here too,” he whispered. “This isn’t the kind of place I would choose either.”

“See?” you laughed and hit his arm lightly. “And you made me feel bad about it.”

“Yeah well I have a habit of—,” he started but cut himself off and shook his head with a frown. “So
do you want another drink or do you just plan to nurse that all night?”

You considered your glass before you downed the cocktail and handed him the empty vessel with a
sly grin. “If you’re buying, Mr. CEO.”
It was surreal to think you were drinking with Yoongi after nearly a year had passed since you
barged into his office to demand a date. It felt nice to banter with him, to pretend neither one of your
problems existed and there wasn’t toxic history between you. To be normal for just a moment. You
needed the reprieve. What ate at Yoongi, for you could tell with the dark circles that hung below his
eyes, and the way he’d let himself get so drunk while alone, seemed to dissipate with you around.
There wasn’t much more troubling than seeing someone drink themselves into a lonely oblivion.

The drinks passed, glass after glass, and the flush of Yoongi’s cheeks grew. You had forgotten the
fluttering in your chest when he smiled, teeth exposed and eyes partially hidden by his cheeks. It had
been too long since you’d seen that and it couldn’t have come at a worse time. That night, sitting in
front of a piano with no one else to bother you, it was a picture of what could have been. Under
different circumstances, if you were better people, had time found you at another point of your lives,
perhaps nights enjoying each other’s company was something you could have had. It was easy to
forget it was a snapshot of another life, an alternate you and him, and not your reality. Brief pockets
of sanity were rare when he smiled at you that way, when he nudged your shoulder like you were
old friends, when he simply pointed at your glass and asked, “Another?” because it was expected the
night wasn’t over. Perhaps he didn’t want it to end either. But it was fragile, this dreamy bubble.

“So tell me,” he said and handed you your fresh cocktail before he straddled the piano bench, a leg
on either side so he could face you directly, “why were you walking around the city at night?
Alone?”

Pop.

Your mouth puckered against nothing. “I just needed to clear my mind.”

“From?”

You eyed him. Surely he had to have guessed something was wrong. He was too observant. “You
already know what.”

His drunken grin slipped into a soft smile, sad around the edges. “I do. But I guessed you probably
didn’t have someone to vent to, at least not totally. You can’t be honest with everyone, right?” He
shrugged nonchalantly like he wasn’t stealing your breath with each second past. “So be honest with
me instead.”

And it was true. He knew all the secrets—save for your trip back to Ms. Jung’s apartment—there
was no need to explain or cover for anyone. He could possibly be the only person who truly, fully
knew the story.

“You don’t have to, of course,” he added with a lift of his lips, knowing you’d already agreed in
your mind. “It’s just an offer.”

“Do you know he reads my text messages over my phone?” You blurted it out before your drunk
mind caught up with your body. A dam ready to burst. He raised his eyebrows, a slight crinkle
between them, but said nothing. “At first I thought it was justified. I was going through a lot, you
know,” you said and gestured between the two of you, “and I made excuses for him. Of course he
would be suspicious if I was texting you or not. Obviously he would want to know who was calling
me. I excused it all. But he just,” you sighed and pursed your lips, “wouldn’t stop.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he doesn’t trust me, of course. Obviously.” You scoffed at that and took a drink. “Which is
hilarious by the way considering he’s the one spying on his own girlfriend for your mom.”
“Did he admit that?”

“No. That's not his style. He won't admit it outright because he wants me to see him as the victim.”

“Wait,” he said and held up a finger to stop you, a derisive laugh on his lips. “The victim? In what
way?”

“Because we started dating as a rebound from you.” It was only after Yoongi’s eyebrows raised and
the smile slid off his face that you realized what you said. You’d admitted it, out loud, for the first
time and as bitter of a pill as it was to swallow in its own right, it was worse in front of him. “I really
love him,” you blurted but you weren't sure if it was for his benefit or yours.

“Of course,” he said and took a long sip of his drink.

“I really do!”

“Obviously,” he nodded, not a hint of a grin on his face and scooted closer to the far end of the
bench. “I've felt for quite a while that he's jealous of the time you and I spend together at work.”

“But that's strictly business. I just take your minutes in meetings and notes on conference calls. I don't
understand why he is jealous of that.”

“He doesn't have any reason to be. I am your boss and you are my employee. Nothing more than
that. Not anymore.”

A stabbing pain broke out in your chest but you only smiled and nodded at him. “Exactly,” you
muttered and wished for a change of subject. “What about you?”

“‘Me?”

“Why are you really here?”

“To drink, of course,” he smiled and held up his glass, nearly empty, ice still slowly melting.

You nodded, “But why by yourself?”

The dull murmurs from the other patrons, thinning out as the night passed on, wasn't enough to hide
his bitter sigh. “I don't have anyone else to call out for a night and I thought I could count on not
running into someone I knew here.”

“Sorry to ruin your plans,” you smirked and he mirrored it. And though you knew it wasn’t your
place, it was difficult to ignore the name rolling around your mouth, pushing down on your tongue
and forcing its way out. Sheepishly, unable to meet his eyes for fear he’d see your shame, you traced
the piano keys with your finger and said, “You could always call Hoseok.”

“No.” Harsh but simple. Not sweet but to the point.

“And why not?”

“Don’t ask me that. You saw what happened.”

“I went back,” you blurted out and despite forcing your attention to the yellowed keys, you saw his
head snap in your direction, “after I left your place.”

His voice stung. “You went to him? That was your secret? Why would you do that?” He shook his
head and when you turned to face him, he puckered his lips. “After I pulled you out of there? I knew
you were up to something but I didn’t think that was it.”

“Would you have rather I was up to something else?”

“Depends. Why were you there?”

“He said he wanted to write an expose on your mother, put it in his paper, let public opinion sour on
your family and maybe then it would be easier to get others involved. She’d be humiliated, fewer
people would trust her, connections would be exposed. She’d dry up, essentially.”

“I told him that was a bad idea and I told you both that getting you involved any more than you are
now was a terrible one.” There was a deep rumble in his voice, a threatening explosion waiting for
release. He turned his head to look back over the bar, glaring at anything that moved. “I should’ve
expected he wouldn’t listen to me. Can’t believe I didn’t see that coming. Of course he’d pull you
into it. He’s the reason you’re in over your head to begin with.” He slammed his fist against his knee
and shook his head. “Fucking idiot is going to get one of you killed.”

The image of Hoseok outside of his mom’s apartment building, smothering a cigarette under his
shoe, unable to meet your eyes as he dropped the whole idea came to mind. You recognized the
hunch of his shoulders, the crease between his eyebrows, the aching wish to disappear. “I think he’s
ashamed.”

Yoongi laughed but it was bitter and curdled, a rotten thing. “Why would he be? I’m nothing to him
except some symbol he pins his hate to.”

“Don’t play the martyr.”

“Do you know why my mother showed up for you? Because he’s insecure and jealous of everything
I have. He can take my money. He can have my job. Take the condo, if he wants it. None of it
means anything and he still sold me out to her because he was angry about not having this life. Well,
he can have it. Take my name and all the other shit that comes with it. I don’t want him or it
anymore.”

Under the influence and watching him unravel, thread by thread, was enough to feed your bravery.
Without Hoseok there, it wasn’t like anyone else would set him straight. “You can be mad about
what he did and not pity yourself. They don’t have to be tied together, Yoongi.” He turned his angry
glare towards you but it grew weary. “Don’t say you don’t want your life anymore just because of
this. You two have been together your entire lives, you’ll figure it out.” You dropped your eyes to
his hands and how close they were to you, how easy they’d be to hold if you were in some parallel
universe, different choices and a better past between you. “Besides,” you said and brought your
focus back to his face only to find it was soft, eyes wide, and almost expectant—perhaps a plea
unvoiced, “you told me once that you want to be a better person than you used to be. That still stands
right?” He nodded. “Then don’t fall back into old habits. Things aren’t black and white. I’ve seen the
change in you, how hard you’ve worked, how differently you treat other people,” you paused and
considered your next words carefully, “how differently you treat me. If you want to be a better
person, you have to keep choosing to be.”

Everything softened. His narrow stare widened, furrowed brow pulled apart and up, pursed lips
parted, and his voice lowered to a regretful whisper. “You’re incredible and that’s the worst part.”

The compliment disarmed you, left you unbalanced, afraid you’d topple over into a fantasy you
knew better than to indulge. “What?”

“The worst part is he didn’t tell me that he was why my mother knew about you. Not once. He could
never grow the balls to admit it so I wondered about spies and conspiracies like a fucking fool. He
couldn’t tell me. Not even when he realized I—.” He stopped, snapped his mouth shut, and waited
for you to make the next move. He offered the reins to you, unwilling to be the one in control of the
fallout but drunk enough to consider it.

There was an ugly twist in your belly. A daring anticipation or a heavy dose of shame for what
would come next, you weren’t sure. “When he realized what?” You asked but it came out like a
guilty request.

In that moment, it seemed Yoongi had given up the fight. “You already know.”

As usual, he read you. From the time he tried to apologize to you after crashing your date with
Jungkook, you'd wondered despite your better sensibilities. Months ago when you caught him
pleasuring himself in his office, your soiled panties in his hand, there was a vulnerability to him that
you hadn't noticed before. You toyed with staying with him, got drunk on the idea that he might be
hoping for more than what you'd had together before, but once Jungkook left the office, you'd tossed
the idea out like rotted trash. It wasn't until weeks ago when he drove you home, the rush when his
body pressed against yours, huddled under an umbrella while the heavens poured down around you,
that you revisited that particular fantasy. The afternoon in his condo hadn't changed your mind, it
pulled you further into your suspected delusion but there he was, seemingly confirming the whole
thing.

You were on the edge of a cliff, toes hung over the ledge, and Yoongi was at the bottom, offering no
net or promise of safety. He didn’t even ask you to jump.

A sharp single note poured out of the piano and you both took your eyes off each other to look at
your finger pressed down on a key. “Oh,” you gasped and pulled your absent-minded hand away,
“sorry.”

He smiled but it didn't feel happy. “Do you know how to play piano or do you just like to hog the
keys?”

Despite your good-natured chuckle, your head was swimming in doubt. The liquor in your veins
boiled under your skin, daring you to tell him about your unresolved feelings but one name
whispered in your ear repeatedly, like the air begged you to remember. Jungkook. Jungkook.
Jungkook.

You didn't notice him studying you in your panic. Fingers fumbling with the hem of your shirt, eyes
locked on the keys of the piano, and a firm worried wrinkle between your brows. He licked his lips
and shifted on the bench to position himself properly in front of the piano. As his fingers waltzed
over the keys, a soothing lullaby floated out and wrapped itself around you.

He looked over his shoulder and smiled once you caught his eye. “Feel better?”

“A bit,” you whispered. He was a dangerous man and you might just dive off the cliff for him, safety
net or not. He might not even need to ask.

“I learned this when I was a kid,” he said and turned back to the keys. “I used to play it when my
family was too busy to care for me and Hoseok wasn’t around. It’s comforting, right? Like a
lullaby.” You didn’t offer him anything but silence. His chin hooked around his shoulder, his focus
back on you, “Come here. I’ll teach you to play it. Maybe it’ll help you too.” He patted the bench
next to him. “Sit properly.”

You repositioned yourself so you were shoulder to shoulder with him and like a cruel joke, the
downpour outside kicked up til you could hear it. “The storm must’ve started again,” you stated as if
he was oblivious.

“I guess I get you all to myself for a little longer yet,” he whispered but didn’t look at you.

Loose lips, you thought. Then something in your chest grew into a hard lump and dropped to your
belly. It threatened to anchor you to the seat next to him as long as he kept talking like that. Sinking
ships.

“Give me your hands,” he said, normal volume, all hesitation—or was it shameful guilt?—gone from
his voice. A sober version of you might’ve asked why, perhaps even denied him outright, but that
night the liquor coaxed you just enough to give in. Not to him but into your own desires.

Tomorrow, you decided, was a problem for a different you.

His hands were outstretched, palms facing up, and you tried to remember if you’d ever properly held
them before. They certainly had never been offered. You fed him your own and lavished in the heat
of his skin as he looped his fingers between yours, his palm over the backs of yours. You tried to
memorize the way they looked while engulfed in his, fingers tangled together, then he squeezed.
“Ready?” He asked, voice hoarse suddenly, inexplicably.

You nodded and after a few more seconds, your hands gratefully still trapped in his grasp, you
whispered, “Ready.”

The tangle of fingers came undone for him to lay his over the top of yours, and though you
understood the position was for him to ghost play above, you couldn’t help but wonder why he had
needed to thread you together to begin with. He pressed his fingers into yours, gentle but firm
enough to hit the keys for the simple song. As he moved his hands down the piano, you trailed
behind like a duckling chasing its mother. The melody was disjointed, timed improperly, clumsy, but
Yoongi smiled nonetheless. Concentrated on the dance your fingers twirled around each other, he
didn’t notice you watching him.

Timid wrinkles that lined the corners of his eyes when he smiled appeared when his grin sprouted
and you were fascinated with them. The rise of his cheeks and the flush that raced across his skin, the
pesky length of his bangs, unkempt and dropping down into his dark eyes, the sway of his shoulders
as if he was comforting himself, it all was beautiful but in the most heartbreaking way.

It was as if the shadow of his child-self was there that night. What must it have been like for him
then? The boy seated at a piano likely more grand than the rundown piece of junk in the bar, tiny
hands focused on the keys, drowning out the emptiness around him, letting a sweet lullaby rock him,
comfort him, keep him company. The way he should’ve been cared for by his family. You’d found
Ms. Jung’s recounting of Mrs. Min’s history frustrating when you’d heard it but only when you
caught the ghost of the boy did you consider what it must’ve been like for an innocent child like
Yoongi. Trapped in that house all but forgotten.

“It must’ve been hard for you,” you said. A liquored slip of the tongue.

“What was?” He asked but continued to lead your fingers across the keys though you’d stopped
trailing him.

“Hoseok’s mom told me about what it was like for you growing up. How cold and distant your
parents were, too absorbed in their own lives to take notice of yours.”

“Stop.” The glowing, childlike grin he’d carried while playing had disappeared. “Out of all the
people in the world,” he said and leveled a murky stare, “you are the absolute last person I want to
pity me.”

Perhaps the higher priority was telling him that you didn’t pity him, that you were only trying to
understand him but you had other concerns. A hope that you wanted to feed. A selfish, greedy beast
demanding its meal. “Why am I the last one you want?”

He answered with a noted silence, a pointed stare, and not a drop more than that.

But you weren’t satisfied.

Looking back, you’d be startled by how little care you gave of the repercussions when you
repositioned yourself to straddle the piano bench and scooted yourself closer to him until the tips of
his fingers, hand splayed against the wood in between your bodies, grazed your inner thigh. His
pupils were dark pools, already devoured by liquor, but they widened further as you moved to him.
Deep voids stretched to their limit. Whether it was your imagination or not, you couldn’t be sure, but
there was a startled gasp before it seemed he stopped breathing altogether. You swallowed one time,
and dragged your hungry stare from his eyes to his mouth, tracing his features as you went. “What
exactly is it that you do want from me, Yoongi? If not pity, then what do you want me to feel for
you?”

Whatever you expected didn’t happen. There was no admission of how he felt, not a passionate kiss
or even a pained look. Instead, he stared at you, stoic except for a bulging vein in his tense neck. A
ripple on an otherwise still lake. His fingers danced against the bench, one at a time just barely
brushing against your inner thigh, and then he withdrew completely. Stalled, conflicted, he ran his
hand through his hair. “I need to go,” he said and swallowed the last remnants of his drink. “I’ll call
you a cab on my way out.”

“What? Why? Yoongi, wait!” You called after him but he ignored it and headed for the exit.

Outside the building, the night had taken a frigid turn and steady rain still fell from the sky. Your
breath was visible, a small white cloud each time Yoongi talked. You wrapped your jacket around
you tighter but the cold didn’t deter anything. The street looked empty save for the two of you. He
was on his phone, hidden beneath the eaves of the building, spouting off the address of the building
and requesting a safe ride home for you but the greedy beast inside roared for his attention.

You grabbed his arm and spun him around. “What are you doing?”

He held a finger in the air and pushed his lips into a thin line until they had all but disappeared. The
conversation on the phone only required a few more words but they were terse, tense, and his eyes
focused on anywhere other than you. When he hung up, he slipped his phone into his pocket and
sighed somewhere between frustration and defeat. “What does it look like? I’m getting you a ride
home.”

“But I’m not ready to go.”

“It’s late and you are drunk.”

“So? What does that matter?”

“What does that matter?” He repeated with an acidic edge and slipped his arm out of your grasp. The
rain had covered him, inky bangs clung to his forehead, and all you could think was what his skin
might taste like when blessed by the heavens. “Have you forgotten? Jeon is going to be looking for
you!”
Shouting his name into the street the way Yoongi did, made you shudder. “Fuck him! Don’t use him
as your excuse for sending me home when we both know it’s because you’re scared.”

His eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. “Scared? That has nothing to do with it!”

“Then what is it it?” You stepped closer to him and looked up, your voice lower than before, your
breath hung in the late autumn air for a split second then floated past his face. “Because I am trying
to make it very clear that I want you and you’re running away.”

“You have no idea what you’re saying right now.” It was hollow and unconvincing. “You’re too
drunk. You’ll regret saying all of this in the morning.”

“No I won’t! Do you know what I feel now? Are you inside my head? I am not over it. I’m not over
you.” A flurry of giggles turned the corner to come your way, a couple huddled under an umbrella,
their arms wrapped around each other. There was a sharp pang in your chest and your voice
dropped, “I don’t think you’re over it either.”

Eyes glued to the couple as they passed, he scoffed. “You need to stop now.” He moved to pass you,
follow in the opposite direction of the lovebirds, but you tightened your hold on his arm and pushed
him against the stone face of the bar.

“Or what?” You asked and spread your arms wide in the cold rain. The selfish beast in you purred.
His stony expression dropped when you started to saunter towards him, not an ounce of fear left.
“Will you yell at me? Shove me out of your way? Something worse?” His throat jumped as he
swallowed but he said nothing. You kept your focus on his eyes, a game of chicken you were
determined to win. You tied yourself to him. The tips of your toes against his, chests pressed
together, your fingers snaking their way between his, heated palms clasped. And then you leaned in,
your lips brushed against his cheek on the way to his ear. “Or will you break? Because I think you’re
scared of admitting that you feel this too.”

It was painful to draw away from him when you could smell his musk hidden under the liquor but
just as you would have disconnected your bodies and left him alone against the wall, he spread his
palm against your lower back and locked you in place. He rested his forehead against yours and a
burn broke out despite the chilly night, tiny pin pricks of heat across your skin blossoming from the
contact. His chest rose and fell nearly in time with your own and his breath brushed your skin like
warm kisses in lieu of his lips. You chased him, tried to cement yourselves together again after so
long but he moved his free hand to your cheek and thousands of sparks spread from the spot. He
whimpered, “Please. Stop. You’re making it too hard.” From so close, you could make out the marks
from the accident still healing, each pore dusted across his face, the trail the rain left as it drained
down his nose, and the sharp glare of the flecks in his iris when he opened his eyes. A warning he
hoped you’d heed. “I won’t be able to hold back if you keep going.”

Pleased grin on your lips and heat on your cheeks, you clarified, “That’s the point, Yoongi.”

You chased his lips again but just as they grazed each other he pushed against you, hands suddenly
on your shoulders, and despite the fact that he was the one to disconnect, his face was twisted and
conflicted. Brows heavily furrowed, lips set to a frown, eyes swimming with immediate regret but his
hands held firm. “I can’t take advantage of you like this and believe me, the thought has crossed my
mind.”

“How much more obvious do I have to be? That’s what I want. You aren’t taking advantage of
anything. I’m asking for it,” you cooed but his hands didn’t relent. A smirk dawned across your face
and his moody gaze faltered to show something far hungrier as it slipped to your siren smile. Your
tongue dipped out, a quick, teasing swipe against prime flesh, before it was pulled taut between your
teeth and released with a snap. “Let me spell it out for you. I want you to take me home and fuck me.
And if you want it too, then where is the harm in that?” Quiet and still, Yoongi looked like a statue,
trapped between what he wanted and a wall. You sidled back to him and pressed your bodies
together. “What is it? Do you want me to beg? You know I can, sir.”

He gulped, low, heavy, and dangerous. “No,” he growled and pushed against you until you were
arm’s length away. “Please don’t make me say it again. Do you think this is easy for me?”

“But I’m telling you that I want you! It doesn’t have to be difficult!”

“And you’re saying it while absolutely drunk! You can barely stand on your own. If you were sober,
you’d realize this is a mistake.” A car pulled onto the street and you both watched it come to a stop in
front of the bar. He waved and passed by you as if nothing had happened, like the moment was
already forgotten. “Your ride is here.”

“Yoongi, we aren’t done here!”

Then he snapped. He turned on you and threw his arms to the side, his voice raised to a vicious yell
in the storm, “What do you want me to say? Do you want to hear how hard it is for me knowing that
I had a chance with you and blew it? Would it make you happy to hear that I can’t stand seeing you
with Jeon but I know I can’t do anything about it? That no matter how little I think of him, he is still
the better choice? What does that change? Nothing! I can say how I feel about you and it changes
nothing. There can’t be anything between us ever again. Nothing can ever happen. Saying it out loud
only makes it hurt more.”

There was a quiet moment then and the rain fell between you, offering a small consolation to the
emptiness. He watched you, chest rising and falling, waiting for you to say something, maybe to
offer some counter he hadn’t considered, but you had nothing to give him. Drenched, black hair
matted to his forehead, clothes soaked against his body, he turned to walk across the street but like a
sick puppy, you followed. “Yoongi,” you pleaded but couldn’t fathom any other words to offer and
grabbed his arm.

He ripped it out of your grasp and spun to look at you as he walked backwards. “You need to go
home to your boyfriend,” he shouted and you felt a hot knife in your chest. “Go back to Jeon!” You
stood in the middle of the street, damp and rejected, and watched him leave you behind.

-------------

The following workweek was painfully slow. Yoongi didn’t acknowledge you at all, kept his office
door locked and refused to open it when you knocked. There was a letter on your desk on Thursday
explaining the detail of the team position he’d offered you at the gala and the address of the
marketing company. Nothing else was included. No personal note, no message of encouragement,
just the bare details and when you were to show up. It was cold.

Jungkook wasn’t better. He’d questioned you about your night, who you were with, where you
went, when you got home, but you couldn’t recount the humiliation of being rejected and left in the
rain to him. He was still your boyfriend after all, even if in title only, and after being shut out and
down he didn’t wait around for an answer. It stung but you refused to feed his ego with your own
embarrassment. He ignored you when you’d ask work-related questions, refused to even look at you,
and when gossip kicked up and people started to ask questions all he’d answer them with was a
shrug and direct them your way. You were grateful the team position would take you out of the
office and away from prying eyes.

The worst part was that Yoongi’s words that night hadn’t healed anything. He admitted he still
carried a torch for you but that it didn’t matter, too much time had passed and life had moved on. The
two of you should as well. What started out as humiliation morphed into something far more painful,
loneliness and a strange hopelessness.

The last Friday night of each month had been a long-standing date night for you and Jungkook.
More often than not, you’d end up on the couch of your apartment bickering about which movie
you’d watch that night. When you’d finally compromised between his request for an action flick and
your demands in favor of a cerebral drama, you’d throw your legs across his lap, his arm would find
it’s spot across your shoulders, and a bowl of popcorn would rest on the arm of the couch.

He’d left work early that day, with no explanation to you, and though it was a tradition and your
relationship was stuck in some sort of grey limbo, you didn’t expect him at your door at the usual
time.

You were blindsided when you opened the door. The utter gall, the audacity, to show up at your
door after ignoring you for a week was shocking. He’d sat right next to you, day after day, and not
even looked in your direction. There was a swell of heat when you saw him, an angry surge of
tempered resentment. “What are you doing here?” You asked and hoped he heard the sharp edge to
your voice.

“I wanted to talk to you. What else?” He was still in his work clothes. The man you knew, changed
out of them as soon as he went home. When he walked out of the company each night, the first thing
he did was untuck his shirt and remove his tie. You’d hounded him for it repeatedly over your
months together, told him he looked sloppy and like a child but he didn’t care. Yet there he was, at
your door for your standing date despite the shirt tucked in, tie still in place around his neck. It didn’t
sit well with you. It wasn’t something he’d do to impress you, so who had he been with? Curiosity
purred in your ear and you moved out of his way, let him into the apartment with a heavy sigh. He
walked passed you with a muttered, “Thanks.”

As if he lived there, he plopped down on your lumpy couch and stared at you expectantly. You
refused and stood against the wall in your own apartment. “So where were you this afternoon?”

“Out. I had errands to run.”

“Errands? What are you? Her servant?”

“Can we not talk about this?” He asked and lolled his head against the back of the couch, already
tugging off his tie.

“Then what exactly did you come to talk about?”

“What’s going on with us? Are we still together or have you moved on?” There was a pointed tone
on the end of the question. A shiny sword waiting for you to impale yourself.

Yoongi flashed in your mind. Rain and lips grazing skin and liquor and rejection. There was a cold
pang in your chest, a lonely void that you’d been doing well to ignore. It was more difficult when
Jungkook was around, hard to deal with when he knew which scabs to pick open. “You mean
moved on to someone else?”

He shrugged and cocked his head, “I mean exactly what I said.”

“You think I’ve fucked someone else behind your back?”

“No, no,” he said but his concern felt oily, slimy, and ruined. He leaned forward and braced his
elbows on his knees, legs spread wide. “I think if it had worked out for you, he’d be here now. He
wouldn’t let you out of his sight. Instead, he hasn’t really been around much, huh?” There was a
pause like he expected you to answer but you bit your tongue. He’d found the right scab. “I’ve been
watching at work and it doesn’t seem like things have gone well between you guys. You know,
whatever happened.”

“So what is it that you know? You keep dancing around it. Just say it for fuck's sake.”

“Why? Is there something you don’t want me to know?” He asked then stood from the couch and
walked towards you, his stare was pleading his authenticity. His words were harsh but his eyes
conveyed something else—worry. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m still the one who is here. I’m
the one that’s always here. Not him. Not anyone else. Me.”

And the validation was there. You were still wanted. It didn’t feel right but it felt better than nothing.
You’d settle for scraps. “Jungkook—.”

“Shh,” he whispered and placed a finger against your lips. “I don’t want an explanation, not right
now at least.” And as he leaned in, a small part of you recoiled but his free hand landed on the small
of your back and such a small act of intimacy was enough to feed you. Not that you were proud of it.

There was a certain comfort in his kiss. It was shallow, fleeting, like a lollipop after the doctor’s
given you a shot or a kick of liquor in your coffee. Because the truth, as you were only beginning to
understand it, was you’d used him to fill a hole Yoongi had left behind. Only you had done a shit job
and the earth was caving in beneath you, Jungkook could only prop you up for so long. And it was
sick, the way you returned his kiss even while knowing that your relationship was uneven. You’d
enjoyed being the one wanted and desired rather than the one doing the chasing. In spite of the way
you’d recoiled in his grasp, you succumbed to it, to him, because the only thing more disgusting than
the way you felt then was how you’d feel when he was gone. Being wanted, even if it was purely
carnal, was better than being alone.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth and you welcomed the distraction. Your thoughts were too
heavy, too loud, to ignore when he didn’t ignite the same spark against your skin the way he’d done
so long ago. The way Yoongi had done only a week earlier.

You pulled back from him violently, hard enough to snap your head against the wall.

“Fuck! Are you okay?” He asked and there in his eyes was the boyish charm you’d loved so much
last winter. The genuine concern, the wide stare, the goodness. It had been a long time since you’d
seen that side of him.

Your head stung but the sinking feeling in your gut was worse. “I’m fine. Let’s go to my bedroom.”
His lips slid into a winning smirk and he slipped in line behind you. The two of you had taken the
same path more times than you could remember, the quiet walk down the hallway, trying to remain
innocuous for your roommate’s sake, but this time felt different. There was a charge in the air and the
closer he got, the more noticeable it was, tiny, uncomfortable sparks that littered your body. An
ending creeping up on you.

“I want to be clear,” he said and closed your bedroom door behind him, “I didn’t come here hoping
to sleep with you.”

“And yet, you’re the one with your hand on the doorknob. I didn’t twist your arm.”

He flashed a cheeky grin. “I didn’t say I was opposed to it. I just didn’t come here with that in mind.
It’s a pleasant surprise.”
He’d ruin the whole thing if he kept talking. “Please, just shut up for once,” you groaned and pushed
him against the door. There was just enough time for you to catch his shock, eyebrows raised, mouth
parted, completely taken aback by your uncharacteristic force but you didn’t care. The ugly part of
you wanted only one thing while he was offering it so you dove in for a kiss and put his lips to better
use.

Jungkook recovered and fell to his old habits. One arm slinked around your waist, a palm splayed
across your back and the other caressing your cheek. For a moment it was fine. You’d been in this
position, his hands in the same places hundreds of times. It was routine. It was easy to sink into it,
bury yourself in his affection and forget for a moment that anything else happened, that anything else
mattered. You were wanted in that moment and that was the balm you needed for your wounds,
temporary as it may be.

You moved to his neck and left a line of marks against his skin. They’d be difficult to explain after
the night was over, you were sure, but with the way he moaned and crooned your name in his ear, it
was impossible to stop. That validation was too sweet. “I missed you,” you whispered, husky and
hot, in his ear. Whether it was a lie or not was debatable and not your concern.

He pulled you away at that, both hands attached to the sides of your face, cupped in his hold like
fragile glass while his eyes searched for cracks. “Do you mean that?” The flash of hope on his face
was too much and you dropped to your knees to avert it with nothing more than a slinky smile.
Whether he was satisfied with the silence or not, he hurried to undo his trousers and a thought ran
through your mind: maybe even Jungkook was more interested in fucking you than having your
heart. Or maybe he’d just given up.

The slightly salty taste of his skin as you licked up his shaft wasn’t enough to dull the bitter taste of
your self-hatred but his moans were nice. “God, I missed you. You’re so—fuck,” he gasped as you
dropped his dick in favor of his pulling one of his balls into your mouth and giving a particularly
hard suck. His hand launched towards your head, fingers found and tangled themselves in your hair,
and you smirked, mouth full of him. He was warm and soft under your hand, still slick from your
tongue and on slower strokes, you could feel the veins bulging under the thin skin. If you focused
hard enough to drown out your conscious, you thought you could even feel his heartbeat pulsing
throughout his length. He was real and there but he wasn’t who was caught in your head or the name
echoing back on each beat of your heart.

The thickness in your throat came back. It was a guilty tightening and a sharp, acrid taste spilled out
of your throat into your mouth. You pulled off Jungkook’s ball and licked a wide line across the
underside of his dick, leveling out with a swirl at the end. As you’d done time and time again in your
relationship, you bottomed out, nose nestled in his hair, pressed against his skin, and wished his
presence would push back your conscience, shove it back down your throat so you could deal with
your guilt later. His fingernails dug into your scalp and you welcomed the sting. Every rise and fall
along his shaft lodged the ball of self-hatred a little further down and the relief was overwhelming.

“You didn’t answer me,” Jungkook huffed out, voice unable to keep its edge with you bobbing
along his length. You didn’t grace him with anything more than a skillful swipe of tongue against the
tip of his cock and stare up at him with a look you hoped read as innocent. The tiny smirk that ran
across his lips fell. “What is it going to take, huh?”

You pulled off and stroked him slowly. “Jungkook—.”

“No,” he sighed and waved his hand. “I think I already know.” And without warning he yanked
your hair until your head was pulled back at an uncomfortable angle. “Yeah, I’m sure I know what it
is you actually want. Get up.”
In all the times you’d slept with him, Jungkook had always treated you carefully. There was nothing
rough about him. Every move was calculated, each thrust was measured, like you were delicate, a
fragile piece of art he didn’t want to break. That wasn’t to say he was lacking or disappointing, but
you wondered why. It was different, the way he treated you and it took time to grow into it. So when
he growled out his command for you to stand that night, your knees disobeyed.

“I said get up,” he ordered again and raised his hand, your hair caught in his fist, as an incentive to
move faster. The light from the solitary bulb in your room crossed his face and drew out his boyish
features. The contrast was striking when his eyes narrowed onto your swollen lips before shooting
back to your wide stare. “There it is,” he chuckled but it was derisive.

“I don’t understand.”

“That look. Excitement,” he hissed. “So this is what you like, huh? This is what you've been running
back to him for.”

Weighed options and cautious words came to mind. Ways to placate him, reassure him, erase your
guilt, and none of them felt entirely honest. “I haven’t—.”

“Don't lie, baby. I already know.”

He pushed you into the bed and chuckled as you fell amongst the sheets. “You’re a funny one, you
know that?” He growled and grabbed your ankles, nails dug into your flesh.

A sharp yelp burst out of your mouth before you realized it. You scraped across the bed until your
legs were draped unceremoniously over the side, his palms pressed into the top of your thighs. This
wasn't typical Jungkook. It wasn't the man you'd slept with for so long. It was his body, his face, his
hands, and his lips but it felt like he was someone else—or at least playing at being the unnamed
ghost who followed the two of you into bed. “What do you mean?”

“All this time,” he said with a hint of danger laced between the words and slid his hands up your
sides until he pinned your wrists, “I have treated you so well, haven’t I? I’ve been kind to you. I
treated you carefully, tried to be everything he wasn’t, to make you see what you could have. I let
you lead everything. When we fucked. How we fucked. It was all your choice. I didn’t want to be
him. I did everything I could so I wouldn’t be.” He hovered over top of you, your legs trapped
between his own, and the shadows stretched across his face. “And yet, I have never, not even once,
made you make that sound.”

“What sound?”

“That squeal a second ago. When I pulled you across the bed. You’ve never looked at me with the
same excitement and thrill you did when I pulled you up by your hair.”

He wasn't wrong. His attitude rode a thin line between making you want him more than you ever
had before and thinking about kicking him out. Whatever it said about you, the moment the bulge in
his pants pressed into your crotch, you squirmed underneath him and arched your back like a kitten
stretching. “You make it sound like sleeping with you is a chore for me.”

“Is it?” He arched an eyebrow and tightened his hold on your wrists.

“Of course not,” you sighed.

“Then prove it. What do you like about me more than Yoongi?”

It was a golden but unspoken rule in your bed that Yoongi’s name was not to be mentioned. He was
only ever referred to as “him” and that Jungkook had used the taboo word was a testament to his
anger. He’d always been jealous but you'd never had the seething hate you suspected boiled under
his skin directed at you. As unusual as his attitude was, the jealous need to be better was nothing
new. Everything was a competition for him.

You shook your wrists and he immediately let them go and splayed them against the bed next to your
head. It left enough room for you to reach up and wrap your arms around his neck. “Stop talking
about him. I am in bed with you right now, no? I want you to fuck me. Right now. You’re the only
one thinking about him.”

A half-truth was better than a full lie.

There was a pause where he studied you, looked for something he wanted to see but he only
frowned. Without another word, he lowered himself on top of you and pressed your body into the
mattress. Something snapped, perhaps he’d given up or you’d just kicked him over the edge, sent
him diving headfirst into lust and left your problems for the morning. He growled into the kiss you
placed on his lips and you tore at his shirt. There was nothing soft to it. The two of you were rough
around the edges that night, kisses too hard and nails dug too far into your skin. The energy was still
there, nothing was resolved. You’d both only agreed to focus on your baser needs first.

He pushed himself off of you long enough to roll you to lay on your stomach and tug your pants
down to your ankles. With your chin hooked over your shoulder, you watched as he undid his belt,
eyes never dropping from your stare once he noticed. He didn’t look like the Jungkook you knew
with his face eclipsed in the shadows. He dropped his pants to the floor and shoved his boxer briefs
down with them. “Get on all fours,” he ordered.

The mattress dipped under the weight as he climbed onto the bed and you rushed into position. He’d
always been gorgeous but the way his body moved in the dim light, lithe muscles flexed and pulled,
hand slowly stroking himself, the simmering glare in his eyes, you wanted him. Aside from any toxic
need to be desirable, forgetting that you’d thrown yourself at your boss only days earlier, you wanted
him. He licked the length of his palm and fingers, unwavering stare focused on you as you watched
him over your shoulder. Something sick dragged against your back, left in the wake of his hand as he
let it crawl towards your neck. He gripped the back of it and forced you to look ahead at the wall,
fingers dug into the flesh, and slapped his wet hand against your bare pussy without warning. You
yelped again, sharp and loud, while he rubbed his spit against you in lieu of foreplay. The warm
presence of his cock against the plump skin of your ass left for a moment before it returned at your
entrance. His grip on your neck tightened and he pushed into you, no warning, no comforting words,
and you braced back into him, pulling him in deeper.

“This is what you wanted, right?” He growled and his free hand latched onto your hip, nails dug in
as he kept you in place, his cock buried inside. You didn’t answer and dropped your head,
aggravated sigh in your its place, but he slid the hand at the back of your neck around to the front,
hooked right under your chin, and forced you into position again. He jutted forward at your
insistence on silence and smiled when you cried out. “Yeah just as I thought. You know,” he sighed,
like he was reprimanding or lecturing you, and leaned down until his chest was against your back,
his mouth in your ear, “all you had to do was ask, baby. He’s not the only one who can fuck you like
that.”

“Jungkook,” you warned, jaw tight.

“Just ask. Beg me like you do for him.” You caught the present tense to his words and bit your
tongue. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear. The hand around your throat disappeared and pushed
down against the back of your head until it was buried in the mattress. “Go on, baby. Tell me what
you want. Use your words like a big girl.”

He rolled your head to the side until your nose was no longer covered and you were able to look up
at him with one eye. He towered over you, black hair falling down around his shadowed face, sick
smirk rested against his lips, a man triumphant. “I want you to fuck me,” you cooed.

“Not good enough,” he said with an air of disappointment and rolled his hips into you.

“Please, Jungkook. Please fuck me.”

“Better but try harder.”

You watched his twisted smile grow as the bedsheets curled into your fists. “I want you to fuck me
hard, baby. Take out your frustrations on me, I deserve it for how I’ve acted. You know I do.”

He stroked his thumb against your cheek and purred, “Good girl.” A quick push against your head
and he was up right again, knees buried into your mattress between your legs, and his hips thrust
forward unmercifully. You gasped his name and searched for purchase against the bed, something to
ground yourself against him, while he bottomed out with a snicker.

In a momentary pause, he spread your ass cheeks and slowed his movement so you could feel each
inch reenter you, claim you for himself again and again. He grinned though you couldn’t see it and
with a final slap against you, he rolled into you again. You bit your lip to control your scream and he
huffed, “Don’t. I want to hear you. I want everyone to hear how you sound for me.” He sneered and
snaked his hands to your breasts, “I wonder if he’d like to hear what kind of a slut you turn into for
me.”

“Jungkook,” you hissed but with the way his cock felt, the feeling of his hands against you, fingers
pinching your nipples, it came out mixed somewhere closer to a moan.

One of his hands jutted to your throat, closed it in his grasp, and pulled you back until you were
lifted off the bed, unable to reach the mattress beneath you. A quick one, two, three thrusts where the
weight of your upper body rested entirely where his hand and your neck met, your breath strained,
and he relented. He pulled you into him, your back against his chest, one of his arms draped across
your chest while the other tweaked and kneaded your breasts. “You probably want me to, don’t you?
You like being wanted by the two of us. Fucking whore. You’re with him one night and me the
next, huh?”

“No,” you gasped as he thrust harder.

“Liar,” he growled into your neck and dragged his nails across your chest until the skin rang red.
You cried out his name and clung to the arm draped across your chest as he used you. His tongue
licked a stripe the length of your neck, priming the spot for his lips as he set to work marking you the
way you had him. “What’s he going to think when he sees his favorite little whore marked up by
me? Does he think we’re over? Did you tell him we were?”

He nipped against your neck, pinched the skin between his teeth, and you squealed in his arms.
“No,” you said and shook your head but he only laughed into your shoulder and sucked until a red
blossom bloomed in his wake.

“Maybe you didn’t but you want to. I’m not letting you go, sweetheart. You’re mine and you belong
to me,” he whispered in your ear and roamed his hand down your body as it quaked against his hips.
His two middle fingers found your clit and circled the bud in time with his thrusts. You twitched in
his arms and he barked out a laugh, “There you go, sweetheart. You’re going to cum for me tonight
and you’re going to thank me. Then you’re going to apologize to me. Maybe if you’re real good, I’ll
fuck you again.”

Part of you wanted to tell him off, refuse to apologize to him for anything under principle. He was
the one who was reporting your whereabouts, after all, but it was hard to think straight when he
concentrated on you. When your bodies pulled apart briefly, there was a rush of cold where the air
hit the sweat between you before he covered you again with another thrust, his stamina unfazed. The
swirls of his fingers against your heat left your legs trembling, as you stepped closer and closer to the
cliff. Each mark he left against your throat burned his name into you. For that night, you truly did
belong to him.

“Jungkook, your dick feels amazing,” you sighed, your bliss steps away. He grunted behind you and
sunk his teeth into your shoulder, sending you into a shout of expletives as his hips reached deeper
into you. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you said and reached a hand behind you to grab onto his hair. His lips
pulled away from his teeth into a pleased grin and he left a kiss over the bite.

“What’s wrong, baby? You gonna cum for me? Already? Did he not fuck you well enough?” You
sighed out his name but had nothing to follow it up with, nothing to withhold from him or threaten.
He had you in the palm of his hand, ready to snap. “That’s right. It’s me that’s making you like this.
You’re mine. My girlfriend. My whore. Mine. Remember that next time,” he sneered and slapped
your breast.

“Please,” you cried, “I want to cum.”

“Try harder.”

The speed of his circles increased and the arm draped across your chest tightened, pulling you closer
into him so he had more leverage as you squirmed. “Jungkook, baby, please, please. I want to cum
for you. Your cock is too good and I can’t take it. Please let me cum for you. Just for you. Please.”

He whistled and shook his head once. “I wish I had recorded that so I could send it to him next time I
catch him watching you. Go on, sweetheart. Cum all over my dick like a good girl.”

And only seconds after, you felt the tedious wind up of the night finally release a rush of energy. He
didn’t relent as you screamed and spasmed against him, your fingers dug into his scalp and the arm
across you. Only after the come down, when everything slowed down, did you release him and turn
limp but he tossed you back towards the bed until you were on your stomach. He grabbed your hips
and pulled them up again before thrusting back into you with a vicious snarl of, “I’m not finished
yet.” He slammed into you, faster than before, chasing his own high finally. He was only a minute
behind you, holding himself off until you’d been spent, and when he pulled out to cum across your
back and ass, you smiled into the sheets. “I saw that,” he panted and stroked his dick lazily, milking
each last drop out of himself.

“Saw what?” You asked with a playful smile over your shoulder.

“That smile,” he said and slapped your ass. “Mine,” he purred and spread his seed over your back
and ass, swirling it around over your skin, claiming inch after inch.

Only then did the smile drop and the sick guilt returned.

Without asking, he headed to your bathroom and soon the sound of rushing water filtered in. When
he returned, modest in a towel around his waist, he grabbed your hand and led you to the shower.
His hands roamed your body, cleansed you of the icky remnants, the stale cum that had dried to your
skin, and all the while he whispered words of praise and adoration in your ear. He kissed the marks
he had left behind and murmured soft claims against them, washed your hair and massaged your
scalp. Meanwhile, you stood still. You didn't lean back into him, didn't coo at his words or clean his
body in return. He didn't notice, too busy using the praise intended for you to inflate his own ego.

Out of the shower, as he brushed his teeth with the toothbrush that hadn't been rehomed, you
couldn't stop staring at yourself. Hair mussed and lips swollen, bruises marred the bridge of your
neck and your skin hot with shame.

There was a distinct feeling, unsettling and uncomfortable, like you were off kilter or askew. You
didn't recognize the girl in the reflection. Or perhaps, simply refused to. She was you, only dirtier and
sad. The kind of girl who needed validation and love and affection but didn't care about the source.
She was the type to jump from relationship to relationship, man to man, the girl who couldn't be
alone. You hated her, the desperate fool who craved attention so much she’d given up her morals.
She was the girl that women mocked and debased in quiet corners and you were only coming to the
frightening realization that you were her.

Yoojung, for all her sexual escapades, owned them. She was in control. She only slept with who she
wanted to, on her terms, and never because she needed someone. There was a difference, a distinct
line you'd never noticed before. Wanting someone was never the same as needing them. A need
quickly degenerates into something sad and toxic.

There was a faint sound of rain pattering against the window and Jungkook hummed a reminder to
take an umbrella in the morning as he combed his hair. You, however, tilted your head and fell into
the memory of Yoongi walking you to your door, rain attempting to mask the secret rendezvous.
There in your advice to him, were words of wisdom you could use for yourself.

“I said that you make choices and they make you who you are. If you want to be a better person than
you just have to try. Make better ones.”

“What are you thinking about?” Jungkook’s voice broke your thoughts and all you could hang onto
was the word choices.

“Nothing.”

Except nothing wasn't honest and you were only lying to him, reciting a line in a play you’d
rehearsed too many times. If you let this innocent question slide then nothing would change, nothing
would progress, you would remain the woman stuck to a man simply because he wanted her. Your
chance with Yoongi was gone and you were leading Jungkook on simply to ward off your
insecurities. Everything was wrong and such a short, vague answer solved nothing.

“Actually,” you croaked and slid your shirt over your head, “that's a lie.”

“Okay. So what's up?” He exited the bathroom and headed to your bedroom, shirtless and baggy
sweatpants sat low on his hips. Based on this image of him alone, the handsome boyfriend topless
and spent after fucking you, it was hard to imagine a reason you wouldn't want him.

“You can't stay here tonight.”

He stopped in the doorway of your room and turned back to look at you with wrinkled brows. “Why
not?”

“I don't want to lead you on that tonight was anything more than us having sex,” you said and skirted
around the truth again.

His mouth fell to a thin line and his head tilted to the side. “It's because of him isn't it?”
“Not everything is about Yoongi, Jungkook.”

“With you it is! It's like every fucking conversation we have circles back to him.”

“Yeah, it does! But that's because of you, not me,” you laughed with a derisive edge.

“Me?”

“Yes, you and you're fragile, tiny, little ego.”

He laughed once then bit his lip and rubbed the spot with his thumb. “That's funny, coming from
you. The second things go sour with us, you're running back for his dick like the past year meant
nothing to you. As long as there's someone to pay attention to you, right?”

It hit a little too close and pinned your breath in your chest. You glared at him and brushed past with
a hard knock of your shoulder against his before you dropped onto the bed. “Jealousy really doesn't
become you. I grew tired of it a long time ago.”

“No, don't even pin this on me,” he huffed. “You got bored of me because you realized that he still
has feelings for you. You used me to make yourself feel better until he came around, right? And now
that he’s had some great big epiphany, regardless of how shit he treated you before, you're crawling
back on hands and knees to him and it's pathetic.”

“Watch your mouth—.”

“You know what's been bugging me? Not that you could pull your head out of your own ass to care.
Where did you go last Friday?”

“That’s none of your business,” you answered but he ignored you.

“I checked your Facebook and Instagram and saw the pictures you and your friends took.”

“Then you know where I was.”

“Yeah, right, or I thought so at least. But then I got a text from one of them asking me if you made it
home okay. They said you wanted to get some fresh air after they left and you hadn't answered your
phone. So me, being the good boyfriend I am,” he shouted, “came to check on you. I wanted to
make sure you were okay and safe. So imagine my surprise when your roommate said you hadn't
come home yet.”

“I took a long walk,” you said with a shrug.

He scoffed, “You came home at nearly 4 in the morning. I was waiting outside but you didn't see
me.” A lump formed in your throat as you tried to remember him in your hazy memory of coming
home that night but couldn't place him. “So let me ask you again, sweetheart,” he spit out the word,
“where were you that night?”

Fuck him.

“I was with him, okay? I was with Yoongi,” you screamed back.

He didn't say anything, just breathed slowly as he watched you. Then, in a low, measured voice, he
asked, “Did you fuck him?”

“That isn't any of your—.”

“Did you fuck him or not?” Jungkook shouted and slammed his hand into the door frame. “You are
my girlfriend so yes, it is my business if you were screwing him behind my back.”

“I didn't fuck him, Jungkook.”

“Then what were you doing out with him until four in the fucking morning and keeping from me?”

“I just drank with him. I ran into him coincidentally when I was walking around.”

“Coincidentally?”

“Yeah.”

“Out of everyone in this city, you miraculously ended up with him.”

“Yes! Look, we just drank and talked for a few hours. Nothing happened.”

Jungkook ran a frustrated hand through his hair and scanned the room rather than look at you.
“Talked about what?”

“Work, the weather, normal things.” You bit your tongue then opted to tell the truth, at least partially.
“And we talked about you and me.”

His eyes shot back to you and his cheeks took a fiery tint. “You talked to him about us?” You
nodded and he let out a mad laugh. “You talked about our problems with Min Yoongi? Our personal
fucking business with him? The asshole who has been thirsting for you for the better part of a year?
You must be fucking insane.”

“It just kind of happened.”

“Oh,” he laughed, “it just kind of happened that you spilled your guts to the guy who has been
rooting for us to break up since the very beginning. And you expect me to believe you weren't
fucking him behind my back?”

“Oh my god,” you groaned and let your head loll back. “I can’t believe you are still on this.”

“And you wouldn’t be if the roles were reversed? You did it without—.”

“Without what, Jungkook? Your permission?” You spit the word out, loaded with ill intent.

“Oh don’t give me that bullshit. I don’t care that you vented to someone! You think I don’t have
friends I turn to too? What pisses me off is that it is him of all the fucking people in the world.” You
rolled your eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh just to cut him deeper. He scoffed, his fuming rant
cut short, and leaned against the door frame of your bedroom, arms crossed in front of his broad
chest and his dark eyes mostly hidden behind his still damp hair. “Go ahead then. Get it all out of
your system.”

Your eyes narrowed as you crossed your bare legs slowly in front of him. “Look, I know you are
young,” you said and took a special, bitter type of pleasure in seeing his tongue push against his
cheek to keep from barking back at you, “but how many times do I have to tell you the same thing?
There is nothing going on between Yoongi and me. I just work with him.”

“And drink with him,” Jungkook sneered. “Oh, and tell him when we are having problems! Because
that’s what most people do with their boss. You can’t turn to me? Rely on me? I am your boyfriend!”

“You might be my boyfriend but you’re also relaying everything I do to Mrs. Min. It doesn’t make
me feel much like confiding in you, honey. For fuck's sake, you are so immature," you sighed.

"I'm immature?" He scoffed and pushed himself off the door frame.

"Absolutely! All of your jealousy is ridiculous. I have done nothing to deserve that suspicion," you
said and tried to keep your face stoic as the memory of Yoongi almost kissing you in his condo and
you throwing yourself at him a week before swept over you. The guilt hit you first. Sure, alcohol
was partially to blame and you would have liked to give it all the credit but the truth was that there
was a very real part of you that had been disappointed when he turned you down.

Then, unsteady like a wave you should have expected but were unprepared for, indignation filled
you. How dare Jungkook distrust you? Yes, maybe you had gotten a little too friendly with Yoongi
before but he certainly didn't know that. He was jealous over innocent smiles and a completely
platonic promotion into a group and he had the gall to accuse you of flirting with Yoongi, if not
outright calling you a cheater? He knew what had happened at the company party the winter before.
He knew how hurt you had been. He had even been one of the ones trying to pick up the shattered
remains of your ego and yet he assumed you were more friendly with Yoongi than you admitted.
You brushed off the guilt that still sat in your chest, ignored the way it seeped and pooled in your
stomach and turned sour.

"I don't want to be with Yoongi," you finally said and tried to shamelessly meet his gaze but failed.
Your eyes swept casually over the floor until you landed at his feet and slowly trailed them toward
his face again.

Jungkook took a slow step away from the doorway and closer to you. His brows furrowed and the
bridge of his nose wrinkled as he studied you with one long, solitary finger thrust at you with
accusation. "What was that?"

You swallowed hard and managed to not drop his stare. "What was what?"

"Why can't you look me in the face and say that?"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "Because you are being childish and ridiculous."

"So you can't look me in the eyes?"

"Not when you are being like this!"

He didn't believe you. You could read it on his face in the way his lips pursed before they settled into
a thin line, the way his eyes continued to study you to read any and all signs of betrayal he might
have missed before. "No," he finally settled, his voice tinged with an impending frost. "What is
ridiculous is you thinking it is fine to spend the night drinking with him after I told you I don't like
you spending time with him."

"I can do what I want regardless of how you feel, Jungkook," you spit back and cocked your head to
the side as if you hadn't a care in the world, as if he was the only one who was wrong in the
relationship.

His eyes widened, nearly bulged out of his head, before he let out a loud laugh that sounded hollow
and venomous. "Do you even hear yourself? And I'm supposedly the one that is immature? Tell me
then how I should handle this situation because, in my opinion, if you respected me and our
relationship you would have taken my feelings into consideration before you told him about our
problems. Our issues are no one else's business and certainly not that fucker’s. If you cared about me
like I do about you then you would have listened to me when I told you to stay away from him."
You didn't like the guilt that built in your stomach and the way it threatened to spill out. It didn't sit
well with you to lie to Jungkook, especially when he wasn't entirely wrong, but it was infuriating
nonetheless. "I am not a dog, Jungkook. I don't take orders."

When he spoke again his voice had leveled out. The anger had been replaced with cold indifference.
"You did from him. Why not from me?"

For a few moments a silence filled the room as you both stared at each other, willing the other to say
something, anything to break it. He showed no signs of remorse that you could see on his face and
he cocked an eyebrow as if he wanted you to say something spiteful back to him, to keep the fight
going, to cut each other more with sharpened words.

"Do you want to apologize for that?" You finally asked in a hushed voice.

"Did I say something worth apologizing for? Did I say something that wasn't true?"

That feeling in the pit of your stomach bottomed out, though you were sure it would show up later. It
was all you could do to clutch at the covers on your bed and not hurl every pillow at him as rage
filled the space guilt had vacated. "Get out," you hissed.

He watched you for a long moment but made no sound or motion towards the door. You didn't break
his stare no matter how much you wanted to look away from him. You bid your tears to come again
later, weren't even sure why you felt like crying in the first place, but you could not cry in front of
him. You wouldn't. You would absolutely not give him the satisfaction. Finally he moved, plunged
one fist into the pocket of his sweatpants and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other. "If I leave
now then I am not going to come back," he said in a low voice still marked with indifference.

"Good."

He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, "Fine. Then I will be the one to apologize. I'm sorry—."

"Not good enough," you spit out before he had time to finish his thought.

"What?"

"You heard me. I don't want an apology. I want you to get out."

"Oh come on. You aren't serious," he said with an exasperated sigh. He licked his lips as he waited
for you to agree, to beg him to stay, to indicate at all that you wanted him but you merely stared at
him with the same cold indifference he had given you earlier. "Look, I said I'm sorry. You know me,
I say things I don't mean when I get angry. I didn't mean that thing about taking orders from him."
He paused with the expectation that you would say something but you gave him nothing. "Are you
being serious right now?"

"I said I want you to leave. Now go."

"What? I said I'm sorry, what more do you want? I really am sorry. I got angry and said some things
I didn't mean. We all do that."

You lunged off the bed and scooped the rest of his clothes off the floor and hurled them at him. “Get
the fuck out, Jungkook! How many times do I have to say it?”

Pursed lips and furrowed brows marred his handsome face but he put his shirt on nonetheless. “I
can't believe you're acting like this. Who knew I was dating a martyr?”
“Oh fuck off,” you snapped. “Are you still reporting to Mrs. Min about me? Telling her my
whereabouts and how much time I spend with Yoongi? You’re the one who chose to spy on me!”

“You understand nothing about that!”

“Is that why you are so concerned about what I was doing with him? Because you need to know
what to tell her?”

He threw his extra clothes at the wall with a primal yell. “I have been trying to protect you! You’re
on the outs with Mrs. Min! Are you really that stupid that you can't see it? I’ve been trying to fucking
protect you,” he admitted earnestly. “I thought I could use her at first. When she told me to watch
over you and report back I thought, no big deal, she’d never do anything suspicious anyways. I
thought all I’d be doing was dating you like I wanted and telling her how innocent you were in
everything. I thought you’d never go back to her son after what he did. The bonus pay was just an
added treat. Little did I know that you were screwing me behind my back.”

“For the last time, I haven’t fucking slept with him!”

“But you want to,” he whispered. “I can see it. He can see it. Everyone already knows so why lie
about it?” He groaned and rested his forehead against the door frame, hand curling into a fist and
releasing over and over. “Just so you know,” he finally said and faced you again, “I don't tell her the
truth whenever it puts you at risk. I’ll sell him out to her any fucking day of the week but you really
think I’d do the same to you? How little do you think of me? I love you. I always have! I would
never tell her anything that would hurt you.”

You paused a beat then seethed, “How admirable of you.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed in aggravation, “Fucking Christ.”

“So you only lied to me to protect me? What a strong, dashing gentlemen you are to carry that
burden all by yourself! Why, when you only needed to tell me that she was checking on me, that she
didn't believe me, that you were fucking following me behind my back! What chivalry!” You waited
until he opened his mouth to speak again and cut him off. “Who is playing the martyr now?”

“Fine! Fuck it. You think you know so much about me? Fine! Write me off. But you feel like you
can trust him? A fucking Min?” He sounded disgusted and his face twisted around the name. “Do
you notice that when you say his name it's different than when you say his mother’s? It's like you
think they're different. You think you can trust him over me? Why? What has he ever done to earn
your fucking trust? Yoongi isn’t like you and me. He’ll never understand you the way I do.” His
voice boomed throughout the room and you knew your neighbors could hear. Your fight was on
display for everyone on the floor of the building. “I lied to you. Big fucking deal. All I did was
watch over you and report back to her. But listen, what I didn’t do was fall back into the arms of the
enemy.”

You barked out a boisterous laugh at his expense and placed your hands at your hips. “The enemy?
Do you even hear yourself, Jungkook?”

“Neither one of them is like us and they never can be. Do you see this place?” He asked and
gestured to your modest room. “You think he’s going to end up with a girl who can barely afford to
keep a roof over her head? Do you think he really wouldn’t turn up his nose at the prospect of
anything serious with you? That’s exactly what he did back then, isn’t it? And it tore you apart. He
only wanted to fuck you then and that’s exactly what it is now and you’re falling for it all over again.
Who was there to help you piece it back together when he shot you down? I didn’t see a Min
anywhere around! They’re terrible, awful people! All of them! Every single one! They are the worst
that humans have to offer and here you are, trying to find the good in them. There is nothing of value
in a monster.”

Everything hurt. Each word was carefully chosen, whether he realized it or not, for maximum
impact. He’d know, after all. As he had reminded you, he was the one to help build your wall of self
esteem back after Yoongi. He knew which bricks to poke out to make it teeter. “A monster?” You
finally said bitterly. “If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black.”

“What does that mean?”

You swallowed back the tears that burned in your eyes. He wouldn’t get the satisfaction. “You spied
on your girlfriend’s whereabouts in exchange for money, read that file from Mrs. Min without my
permission, and anytime that I start to grow a bit of a spine against you, you make sure to stomp me
out. You didn’t want me to take the group position simply because Yoongi offered it, you didn’t care
whether I wanted it and chose to trash my achievements in front of a table full of people. You barged
into Yoongi’s office and taunted him to get him to say all those vile things about me. You knew I
was there, didn’t you? And now that I’m telling you to leave, pointing out that you’re not as
righteous as you think, you choose to remind me of every horrible thing Yoongi has done and pin it
against you being there for me when I was hurt, like I fucking owe you something. And you have
the nerve to call someone else a monster?”

His expression flat lined into something unreadable. “It’s hardly the same thing as killing a man.”

There was a final twist in your chest and your heart broke for him. Pained, a little pity lost in the
question, you asked, “Aren’t your hands even a little dirty, Jungkook?”

He glared at you, sharp and deadly. “He deserves everything he has coming to him.”

-------------

Weeks passed in a toxic routine once you kicked him out. At first, things had been callous and angry.
Jungkook showed up at your apartment drunk every few nights, banging at your door, yelling for
you to talk to him. He shouted and screamed obscenities in the hallway of your building, accused
you of being with Yoongi, and would only leave when Yeona, your roommate, threatened to call the
cops. Your phone rang at all hours of the night and you woke up to dozens of rambling, incoherent
messages. Work was miserable. He pulled you into the break room any chance he got, begged you to
talk it out with him, to give him another chance, to understand his side, but he never did truly
apologize. You’d noticed that in all of his rants and speeches. The blame lay squarely on your
shoulders from his point of view. There was no shared responsibility in the demise of your
relationship.

Just when you grew weary that you wouldn’t be able to keep working with him, the position with
the marketing firm opened up and you only needed to be at the Min office one day a week. Whether
by Yoongi’s design or not, your day at the company coincided with Jungkook’s field work and
allowed you to work in peace. For the first time that you could remember, work left you feeling
satisfied. Your personality gelled with the other workers and they helped to catch you up on industry
insides you didn’t understand. Each night when you left work, instead of feeling worn down and
used up, you felt empowered, important, and valued. Along the way, you learned Yoongi had pulled
in favors to get you the job once he learned there was a possibility of a permanent position opening
up within the company. You tried not to read too much into it but it felt like he had been looking out
for you in his own way, silently and behind the scenes. Your eyes still drifted to his office though on
your day each week at his company even though the blinds were always drawn. It was rare to catch
a glimpse of him on your only day in the building and despite your best efforts to ignore him, to
accept his position, you cherished the brief sight of him when he left for meetings.
At some point, Jungkook seemed to move past rage and unjust persecution at your hands onto
something moodier. It was a reluctant acceptance, you supposed. The calls stopped, he no longer
found his way to your door, and when you did run into each other, he chose indifference instead of
pleading. His attention seemed to be focused elsewhere and you hadn’t an idea yet what had become
so important to him.

A man woke up one particular morning with blood on his hands, a stain he’d never be able to clean
but he hadn’t the sense to stop. None of you knew that though as you traveled to work. Your skirt
pinched at your waist, a rush of cold air against your legs, and the first sign of thick snow in the
forecast predicted for the weekend were the only problems you saw for the day. On the subway,
you’d received your first text from Jungkook in weeks. All he wanted was to meet in front of the
company building for a minute to talk about something before you went to the marketing firm down
the street. With how distant and levelheaded he’d been recently, it seemed an easy decision. There
was still an annoying wad of guilt you carried for throwing yourself at Yoongi while dating him and
it seemed like the least you could do was hear him out if he remained so collected.

You didn’t expect to find Yoongi waiting outside the building. It was your first good look at him
since the night at the bar and you found yourself walking slower as you approached the building to
buy time before he realized you were so close. His black hair was dusted with the first flurries of the
season and you couldn’t keep a smile from your face. He looked cute standing alone, dark grey coat
and horn-rimmed glasses, and a black suitcase in his hand. He spotted you sooner than you figured
and his eyes blew wide while your smile dropped. You weren’t sure the proper etiquette after
propositioning your boss and failing. Was a wave too friendly? Should you stop calling him by his
name?

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he said with a nervous wave and walked towards you.

“Right. I’ve been at the marketing firm,” you nodded and fiddled with the strap of your purse.

He paused as if he was unsure where the conversation was supposed to go from there before clearing
his throat. “I’ve been in touch with your boss there. He says you’ve been doing really well, far better
than he expected.”

“Oh? Is that so? I’m really enjoying it so I’m pleased to hear that,” you smiled then bit it back.
Probably too friendly. “Thanks for setting me up with the position.”

“You deserved it. They were chomping at the bit to have you there,” he said and though you knew it
was a lie, that he had stuck out his neck for you, you nodded along with him. “Where is Jeon? Is he
running late?”

“Jeon?” You asked with raised eyebrows. “I wouldn’t know. We broke up weeks ago.”

The stoic persona he had carried faltered as he did a double take. “What? You did? When? No one
told me about that.”

“Oh,” you played it off with a wave of your hand. Casual disregard for the awkward topic. “Just a
few days after I ran into you at that bar.” You watched his eyes widen and mouth part under his own
speculations and quickly added, “It was a long time coming. It would’ve happened regardless.”

“I’m…uh…I’m sorry to hear that.” He ran his hand through his hair and looked at your feet rather
than at you for a long moment before meeting your eyes again. “Are you doing okay?”

You smiled and nodded slowly. “I am. For awhile it was a little messy but he seems to have calmed
down now.”
“Well,” he sighed, “I guess as long as you are happy, I’m happy.”

“Yoongi!” A voice shouted from down the street. The two of you turned in time to spot Hoseok
running towards you, long brown coat billowing behind him. You caught Yoongi frown and turn
away but you grabbed his arm, breaking whatever code you had laid out in your head to not cross
lines with him but you reasoned it was in his best interest. He looked at you and you only offered
him a comforting smile before Hoseok arrived and nodded in your direction, a silent thank you.
“Why haven’t you been answering my calls? I’ve been trying for weeks to contact you. You’re so
dramatic to make me come here and catch you on the street in front of everyone.”

“I’ve been busy,” Yoongi said, a hint of ice on his words. You dropped his arm and tried to fall
away from the conversation.

“Since that day we fought? I’ve been trying to text and call you since then, man. Where have you
been? I’ve already been to your condo.”

“At a hotel,” he offered and gave nothing else.

“I should get going. I’ll leave you guys to it then,” you said and gave an awkward wave.

Yoongi opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it and bit his lip instead while he
waved back. Hoseok though, laughed. “We’ve already laid it all out in front of you anyways. What
could it hurt now?”

“Why are you here? Don’t you work at the firm today?” Another voice asked from over your
shoulder and you turned to find Yoojung behind you, her eyes already scanning the situation and
reading the men. “No, why are you here?” She asked again and focused her attention on Hoseok.

There was a pause where the two stared at each other and you wondered what had happened
between them that you’d missed out on while caught in your own drama. “Come wait with me,” you
said and grabbed her hand. “I’m supposed to be meeting Jungkook out here.”

“Jungkook? Are you two finally talking again?” She asked as you led her away from the men and
walked a little further down the street, closer to the curb.

You laughed, “Not really. He just texted me this morning and asked to meet me out here but I might
have to ditch. I don’t want to be late for work.”

“That’s typical of him. He’s still a kid. He doesn’t understand the importance of punctuality,” she
mused but her attention was focused on Hoseok and Yoongi. “What’s going on with them? A rift in
paradise?”

A motorcycle passed behind you, too loud for you to answer her question and the ends of your skirt
blew in the wind it created. You saw Yoongi’s eyes on you while Hoseok talked, his hands
dramatically animating the conversation. “Something like that. I think they’re making up though.”

Out of nowhere, Minsung passed Yoongi and Hoseok in a brisk walk. He grabbed Yoojung by the
elbow “We need to talk,” he rushed out and pulled her behind him roughly. You reached out for her
but she seemed to be telling him off as he dragged her along. She mouthed something to you about
men and gave a dramatic eye roll before you turned back towards the street.

Your toes hung over the curb of the street and you rocked back and forth across it, testing your
balance, a game of chicken with gravity. The bus stop in front of the building had always been
convenient but that morning you were grateful for a break in the cars that lined the streets, a little
peace in the concrete. There was an anxious itch to leave, a pressing need to head towards work but
you owed something to Jungkook and you wanted to make peace with him. Not speaking to each
other soured the whole memory of the relationship. It felt important, necessary even, if he was the
one to offer the olive branch. You checked your phone again and swallowed the panic. Five minutes.
You’d give him five more minutes then sprint to work. And almost serendipitously, you looked up
from your phone and caught a familiar head of black hair and a pair of doe eyes across the street,
watching you. You waved but he didn’t move. Your phone in your hand, you dialed his number,
almost burned into your memory at that point, but he didn’t answer. The wind picked up and
goosebumps broke out over your skin. He didn’t turn away and didn’t move.

You had always thought that the city was too loud. Between the cars, the people, the subway below
your feet, the sounds of millions of lives taking place simultaneously and echoing off the buildings
that looked down on you all—sometimes it was simply too much. More often than not it was an
ever-present din that haunted you. Only once did you regret how quiet the city could be at night.
Your roommate, Yeona, had the loudest, drunkest sex that you had ever heard and nothing could
drown out the sound of her headboard beating against your shared wall. It was the only time you
wished the city was louder.

That morning, you heard a car engine rev over the city as you watched Jungkook across the street.
The sound grew louder, pinging off buildings, echoing in the streets, and just as you noticed the
shiny black car speeding recklessly towards you. Yoongi yelled your name but you didn’t have time
to look towards him while you stumbled backwards away from the curb and bus stop, completely
unprotected from the wild. Then there was another shout, someone else’s name that you couldn’t
quite hear over the roar of the engine and you were shoved, violently towards the car parked at the
edge of the bus stop. You hit it’s rear side panel and not even a split second later everything collided.

There were screams right before the car arrived and jumped the curb but the terrific thud when it
collided with human flesh, the sound of metal crinkling in on itself, was all you could hear. A man’s
body flew in the air, brown coat blowing in the air, and landed with an unceremonious thump across
the sidewalk. The wind kicked up and in the breeze you caught the ting of blood. Everything moved
slowly, like a movie in half speed for dramatic effect but you couldn’t hit the fast-forward button,
your only choice was to watch. Among the screams you heard Yoojung shriek and saw in the back,
safely against the building in Minsung’s arms, her fighting to run towards the scene.

Just when you thought it was over, the car reversed and veered closer towards you. You scurried
against the concrete, pulled your legs in closer to you and smelled the burnt rubber as it peeled back
and away, sure to run over the man’s hand again before it fled. Only then did you catch his face, the
familiar wire-rimmed glasses and messenger bag, contents strewn across the sidewalk.

Then you heard his name caught in the wind, a horrified shout from Yoongi, “Hoseok!” He sprinted
towards his friend, repeating his name like a hopeful mantra, eyes wild and terrified. He reminded
you of the weak and vulnerable man you’d seen in the hallway of Ms. Jung’s apartment. You
couldn’t peel your eyes from him, the lifeless lump in front of you, the man who had pushed you to
safety and taken your place.

Yoojung suddenly appeared at your side, her arm around your shoulders, a million questions at once
without a chance for you to answer though you couldn’t find your voice. Yoongi shot a glance to
you, quickly looked you over with eyes already red and wet before he saw you were taken care of.
Yoojung shouted at Minsung to call an ambulance and you noticed her eyes trained to Hoseok’s
body too, fear bled through. Someone slipped an arm around your waist and hoisted you off the
ground and there was applause from the crowd that had gathered but you felt no joy. Your eyes
darted to the familiar mop of black hair and the doe eyes you’d seen earlier. He was in the middle of
the street, frozen in place, face pale, eyes wide and alarmed and all you could think was to shout at
him, “What did you do?”
Chapter End Notes

Originally posted on tumblr by ellieljade

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