Trocadero

Trocadero

You and Yoongi have known each other since school, forging lives for yourselves in the city you both love. One night changes the trajectory of your lives.

Pairing: Yoongi x F!reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 10k total

Genre: Non-idol AU, smut, angst

Warnings: Sexually explicit scenes, explicit language, murder, violence. Unsuitable for minors.

Part 1

Part 2

©hamsterclaw 2021

papercuts📎

gym crush au! (complete)

“popular”! jungkook x underclassman! reader

genre: smau, fluff, slight angst, crack, high school au, college au, everyone is kinda dumb, strangers to lovers to ex’s to lovers

warnings: language, drinking, mentions of s*x, cyber bullying, WEIGHTLOSS, unhealthy coping mechanism, therapy, tattoos, allusions to harry potter because you muggles might not be able to handle-

synopsis: flirting with your crush of 3 years wasn’t something you thought of when first getting twitter, a nasty breakup wasn’t what you expected either… but why is it that after 3 years and loads of droning on self-improvement and trying to become “that” girl , your gym buddy reminds you of the one person you wanted to forget?

↠youth: bts college smau masterlist↞

📎📎📎

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the devil wears cufflinks | knj

⤅Pairing: Namjoon x reader (sex worker!au, escort!au, office romance)

⤅Genre: smut, e2l

⤅ wordcount: 15.5k

⤅Summary: Ruthless in the streets, a submissive in the sheets. Your day to day job requires you to be tough and collected; especially when your boss picks on everything you do. Your side job as an escort and camgirl with The House of Lust allows you to relax and submit to anyone who requires your services. But when your regular cyber sex client starts grading your performance in a very familiar and ruthless way, you’re more than determined to show him what ‘desirable skills’ means.

⤅ warnings: sexual themes, choking, dirty talk, creampie, pussy slapping, masturbation, slight mention of a threesome? (Yoongi is in it), cam sex, oral (m receiving), slightly ass Namjoon, rough sex

⤅ rating: 18+

A/N: (I am so late for this and I am so sorry for basically disappearing I hope this makes it up at least a bit) this is a very delayed very frantic posting of my bit for the House of Lust collab hosted by the wonderful @btssmutgalore. I had a lot of fun being in that group and everyone has done an amazing job with their work! I am so glad I got to meet everyone as they are all amazing creators and amazing people. Special thank yous to Dee who has been and is an amazing and patient friend and to @yoonjinkooked for being so supportive and amazing. And to everyone else in the collab you guys rocked this! As always thank you @notyouroppar for being an amazing beta! I am so nervous I have not posted in so long. Hope you enjoy!

Onwards with everything! Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner

I would love to hear from you so please leave me a message! 💌

There’s nothing you hate more than being told what to do when you’re doing your job. As a graphic designer, you thrive in the freedom that you have with your choices. So when the head of your department returns your designs with thousands of red comments, as if it was an essay you wrote in 7th grade, you’re ready to rip someone’s head off.

“Is he at it again?” your friend and colleague Soobin asks, and you can’t help but let out a strangled yell. You were a hair width away from slamming your head onto the desk repeatedly, until it gave you a concussion. See who designs your crap then, asshole.

A hesitant, but welcomed, hand placed itself on your shoulder. The light tapping motion broke you out of your reverie. Despite the comforting gesture, you tutted, displeased with having to return back to reality, instead of daydreaming of revenge as you’d been doing. Who knew that imagining throwing papers in your boss’ face would be therapeutic?

“Soobin, not now please, I’m busy throwing a ‘Desperate Housewives’ tantrum in my head,” you moaned, refusing to move for the time being.

In reality, you were focused on your design, trying hard to understand where you’d gone so wrong to warrant such an angry response back. You’d worked on it for days on end, racking your brain for ways to work with your client’s demands, as well as your boss’. Yet, it seemed like the first checkpoint had failed.

Pshhh, the first checkpoint is not even Cerberus, it is Hades himself, you mused, too caught up in your own head, unaware of the commotion around you.

“Uhhhh, Y/N?” you heard Soobin whisper furiously from your right. Confused and disoriented, you realised quickly that the comforting patting motion had quickly turned into an incessant prod.

“Y/N?” you flinched and swore under your breath lightly. No one’s voice gave you more anxiety and shivers than your boss’ did. His arrival at your desk was completely unannounced, unexpected, and you prayed to God he hadn’t heard you.

You lifted your head as slow as you could, partly in a last attempt at petty rebellion, and partly because you felt the dread in your stomach rise to inhumane levels. It didn’t take you long to spot him, standing right next to you, dressed in his pristine suit, his eyes glowering at you.

Kim Namjoon. The devil boss.

Clearing your throat, feeling flustered under his gaze you tried your best to busy yourself with settling your chair so it would face him. You wouldn’t stand up, as most of your colleagues did when he addressed them. It was a waste of effort, he was not royalty, as much as he liked to pretend he was, with all his expensive clothes, satin handkerchiefs, and golden cufflinks.

“Yes,” you finally acknowledged him, eyes wavering slightly. You could slowly feel your pulse rise, the flush under your skin making you want to itch all over. “Yes, uhm, Sir?” The words tasted bitter in your mouth, but as much of an anti hierarchical person as you were, it never hurt to be polite.

Namjoon scowled for a moment longer before he shook his head breaking your intense staredown. Settling on the paper on your desk, he finally spoke, “When you’re done acting like an unsavoury character in a soap, please come see me in the office. I think we have much to discuss.” He threw another glance at the reddened paper on your desk making you sputter.

“I’m giving you ten seconds,” he gave no heed to your mouth hanging agape, nor did he acknowledge Soobin’s impertinent whistle before he turned around and made his way into his office. Lion’s den.

Still struggling to wrap your head around what he’s demanded of you, you made no move to get up and follow him. Despite his harsh words, his voice stayed levelled, a velvety smooth caress that promised pain. You fought the urge to think about other demands he could give you, that implied less clothes.

“Are you not going to go?” Soobin’s voice interrupted your thoughts, gracefully poking you. “You aren’t really going to make him wait are you?”

Part of you wanted to disagree with Soobin, to tell him that Kim Namjoon could wait. Another part of you dreaded the reaction you’d get out of him if you did delay your arrival into his office. As if he’d been listening in, Namjoon's voice rang throughout the office before you could even respond.

“Five more seconds Y/N!”

Panicked, your eyes locked with Soobin’s before you sprung out of your chair. Ignoring the stares and whispers around you, you patted down your skirt and made your way as confidently as you could into the den.

His office was located on the same floor as yours, a mere few metres away from your desk. And even if you weren’t his PA, the proximity made it so that, more often than not, you were treated as such. From errands that had you running up and down the building, chasing signatures from different departments, to errands that had you running outside of the building trying to memorise twenty coffee orders. You’d been there and done them all.

You were a graphic designer for crying out loud. No wonder your work was this bad, if most of your time was spent running errands for the Devil King. Determined to ask him to get a PA, you strutted into his office. Seeing him perched on his desk, his arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed, your confidence dwindled.

“Uh,” you mumbled, not knowing what to do with yourself. He was not seated behind his desk, and the way he was leaning made his trousers accentuate all the right assets. From his strong thighs to the faint outline of his cock, you could see it all, and it took all your willpower to move your eyes away from it.

“Close the door,” he demanded, his eyes shining amusedly at you.

This time you decided to listen, making sure the door was shut tightly behind you. If he was going to berate you for your work, you would’ve rather wanted it to be in private. Turning back towards him, you were surprised to find him a lot closer to you, his hand extended in a courteous gesture.

“Please take a seat,” he offered and you fought the urge to scoff at his fake pleasantries. Considering this was your boss that would be a wrong move, so you shook your head just as politely.

“No thank you, I am ok,” you replied hoping he would read between the lines and keep it short.

Namjoon regarded you for a moment, his jaw tightly clenched. Despite your aversion towards him as a boss and how he treated you, you couldn’t deny he was a gorgeous man, with ash blonde hair most of the time slicked back with no hairs out of place, and designer tailored suits, he was a vision. What made him even more appealing was the confidence he exuded. A confidence that wrapped around your throat more often than not, waiting to suffocate you slowly whilst you begged for him.

He was a devil, and you were playing games with him. His anger seemed short lived, for in the next second he smiled at you lightly, his eyes crinkling and dimples on show.

“Alright then, Miss Y/N…” he started and you interrupted, unable to help yourself.

“It’s Y/N,” you pointed out meeting his gaze head on. The confusion in his eyes morphed into something less cordial and more predatory— his eyes narrowed into slits and his smile dropped slightly.

“As I was saying miss,” he emphasised your title dismissing your words like a fly in the wind. “Your designs, should we have a chat about them?” He finished watching you expectantly.

Feeling wronged and confident in your opinion, you held your head high. “What is there to talk about, sir?” You made sure to emphasise his title, but when a glint passed through his eyes, you realised your mistake. The bastard likes it.

Namjoon sighed as if in pity, shaking his head at you. “Do you really think I correct your mistakes because I enjoy it, miss Y/N?” he questioned his frame seated back behind his desk.

Yes, I think you do Hades. You shrugged noncommittally, unsure of how to respond. You found it hard to lie, but you were certain that accusing your boss of unfair treatment was not the way to keep yourself employed either. Unable to hold his gaze you glanced around the office, taking in its pristine look. A bit like its occupier it looked anally clean and devoid of sentiment. No paraphilia on the walls other than a few random pieces of art scattered here and there; so generic you couldn’t tell much about their owner. No personal pictures nor any other effects. Only his desk with stacks of papers which needed tending to and a computer resting proudly in the middle of it all— all framed by the top to bottom windows that rounded the room. Kim Namjoon would remain a mystery to you.

“Then can you explain your design process to me, Y/N?” he questioned, the harsh tone of his voice bringing you back into the room with him.

“Uh…” you looked shocked, not expecting such a brazen question to come out of his mouth. No one had asked you that since you applied for the company. At that time, Namjoon wasn’t in the picture, having come a year later out of the blue, taking over everything and changing it drastically. Albeit for the better, the changes seemed to affect you out of your whole department the most.

“What do you mean?” you made sure you heard him correctly. “Sir?”

“You heard me, explain your thought and design process to me,” he leaned back, pushing his chair away from his desk as he rested his hands on his lap.

Fighting the urge to stare at the obvious outline of his crotch, you kept your eyes trained on his, biting your lip in thought. “I’m not sure what you want me to explain?”

Namjoon scoffed, “Don’t play dumb with me Y/N, if you’ve been hired for this role, you must have some assets,” you could have imagined his eyes straying down your body, the motion so quick you blinked and he was once again staring you down. “However,” his voice sounded ruthless to your ears, “I have yet to see them.”

“I-what? Of course I have some assets! I have more than ten of this company’s past and present clients under my belt!” you argued feeling your blood rush to your head in anger. “I just don’t understand what you want me to tell you,” you threw your hands up, so caught up in your own nerves that you missed his amused smirk.

“I do what the client wants me to do, with as much efficiency as a short amount of time allows me to!” you cringed at the volume of your voice. Regardless of the situation, you never liked to become so aggravated you started shouting. But there was something about Namjoon throwing you a knowing glance that had you flustered and angry enough to resort to such behaviour.

“In short, you mean to say, you’re cutting corners, is that what I am hearing right now?” he nodded to himself as if he’s managed to finally crack the mystery,

His words came as a surprise, shocking you into silence and you stared at him mouth agape. “What? N-no!” you found your voice, ready to defend yourself.

“That is what it looks like to me,” Namjoon pulled his chair back while tapping something on his desktop before he turned it towards you. your design stood proudly on the screen, his changes staring back at you. You had to admit, with the changes and your idea combined, the design did look better—a slap in the face which you were not ready to admit to.

You weren’t able to look at the screen for longer than a few seconds, the sting of his accusations making you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

“We had very little time to prepare for this, the deadline was moved and so it took us all by surprise,” you mumbled, your fingers tangling in the front of your skirt.

Namjoon’s eyes easily traced your gestures, as he mulled at his next words. “I won’t fire you,” he sighed, as if proud of his own leniency. “Yet.” he warned as your eyes snapped back to him, your mouth open ready to protest. “I will give you one lastchance, I gave you some pointers, you will remake this design by tomorrow.”

Hearing the deadline you glanced at your wrist watch, cursing yourself for checking. It was already past midday, there was no way you would be done on time before the work hours ended. Which meant you had to work overtime. Again.

“This time, there will be no cutting corners, and you will listen to me exactly,” he warned, the look in his eyes making you swallow your retort.

He looked dangerous, ready to rip into you, lips pursed and jaw clenched once more and you could have prayed for the ground to swallow you. Yet, instead of fear, a rush of adrenaline and excitement filled your veins. With no intentions other than to escape his fiery gaze, you nodded, your eyes lowering until they settled on his arms.

Those hands who signed more resignation letters and final notice papers than you would admit, the veiny, elegant hands that were metaphorically wrapped around your throat, ready to cut you off at any time. The same hands that were rhythmically tapping onto the surface of his desk, drawing your attention towards his long fingers and making you wonder if he’s ever done something remotely sexual with them.

“Are we in agreement, Y/N?” You were so enraptured by his hands that it took you a moment to realise he’d dropped the honorifics. With a gasp your eyes snapped back to his, the flush of having been exposed ogling him threatening to burst to the surface.

“Yes, sir.” A final attempt at poking the bear; you decided to keep calling him that, displeased when it backfired on you and he dismissed you with a satisfied smirk.

“Good, then you can go,” he waved you off, his eyes giving you a once over for the first time since you entered his office. “Enjoy your day, but maybe next time wear something a bit less… stimulating would you?”

Without a word you exited making sure to slam the door behind you. You hated the warmth that flooded your core, laced through your anger.

That afternoon, as the clock struck five, and most of the employees had cleared the building, you and Soobin were still at your desks.

“Want to go out for some after work drinks?” he questioned, turning his whole body towards you. You couldn’t spare him a glance, too concentrated on your screen but you could tell from the sounds you were picking up that he was ready to call it a day.

Curses. “I can’t, I’m really sorry,” you briefly glanced at him, your eyes shining with remorse. “I would like to get a good night’s sleep,” you supplied when you saw his inquisitive look. Turning back to your screen you swore out loud at the mistake you made.

“So what is stopping you from getting a good night’s sleep?” Soobin inquired as he packed his bag to leave, whilst you were still straining your eyes to get the size adjustments to the ridiculous numbers you’ve been given.

The bane of your existence in that company; Kim Namjoon. With his pristine expensive suits hugging his broad shoulders. Shoulders that you’ve more than once imagined straddling as you sat on his face using his tongue as the most expensive dildo. And not to mention his neatly pressed shirts buttoned all the way up so tightly you wondered if he had a choking kink. You’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined pulling on his tie as you rode yourself into oblivion on his dick. Similarly, you’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined pulling on that tie ready to strangle him in the middle of a meeting. You’ve yet to encounter someone so pretentious and superfluous before, and you’d come from a sensible background. So when you got called in the wee hours of the morning and asked to book a private masseuse—you flipped your lid. Privately. You wouldn’t have dared to make a scene in front of your boss, nor were you ready to admit that you were in fact wide awake and still working.

You wouldn’t have called yourself the employee of the year, not even the employee of the month. You weren’t bending over backwards and losing sleep for your day to day job. On the contrary, you were very much tied up with other obligations.

“That’s it kitten, spread your legs wider for me,” came the distorted voice over the speakers. Complying, you let your legs fall further apart, giving the camera a wide view of your soaked pussy and throbbing clit.

“You’re so wet, even over the quality of the camera, I can see you soaking the sheets underneath you. You dirty, dirty girl,” the deep voice purred and you arched your back moaning loudly in response. Wanting to touch yourself, to relieve some of that pressure that built in your stomach and gnawed at your spine, you let your hands wander towards your breasts. Lightly cupping the soft mounds, your thumbs teasing the puckered nipple, you licked your lips.

“Can I please touch myself, Sir?” you whimpered, unable to hold the desperation at bay. You were aching to come, having been teased over camera by your client’s sultry voice. Added to that, the image of his veiny cock, hard and reddened resting in his own hand made you hungry to stuff your fingers in your cunt. You wanted it, you wanted to taste it, its dripping precum calling out to you. You needed to have it in you, to bottom you out until you were yelling mercy under its incessant pounding.

“No,” the response snapped you out of your lust riddled thoughts, your eyes opening to stare at the ceiling. You could feel the prickle of tears stinging the back of your eyes, the frustration finally getting to you. “Get your hands away from your breasts,” he demanded, “did I say you could touch your breasts?”

In a moment of bravery and fuelled by exasperation, you growled loudly. “RM,” your voice sounded like a warning, your hands off your breasts and onto the bed pushing you in an upright position. The instant response made you flinch, the loud slam of his riding crop slamming onto the foot of his settee a clear indication of his anger.

“Sir,” you gulped, hoping it was not too late to redeem yourself.

“You know what to do,” his voice was calm, but the chill and demand in it sounded dangerous and it made you shiver. You did know what to do, and part of you was excited, yet dreading it. With a whimper you tried to plead for his forgiveness if only just for your peace of mind.

“Sir, please,” you mewled, hands tightly latching onto the sheets underneath you. You knew he couldn’t see your face, if he did he would have probably been even angrier with the small upward quirk of your lips. Nor could you see his, but you would go out on a limb to say he probably wore the same self satisfied expression.

“You know what to do,” he repeated, even slower as if you were having difficulties in hearing him. “Now.”

His tone left no room for argument. With your hands shaking partly because of dread, partly because of excitement you hovered with your open palm above your opened folds awaiting instructions.

“One.” When the first number resounded from the speaker into the room so did the slight sound of skin touching skin. The prick of your hand rapidly falling onto your core followed it and you felt your muscles contract and your pussy releasing more wetness onto the sheets below. You could now feel how wet you were, the slight contact your hand had with your hungry pussy left sticky marks on your fingers.

“Two,” he continued and you followed suit, slapping your pussy once more. Moaning and gripping at anything you could, you attempted to keep yourself from coming; you followed his count, each slap lessening in power, hoping that he wouldn’t catch on.

You resisted the urge to lap at them, the scent of your arousal invading your senses becoming stronger and stronger with each count.

“Stop,” he said after the tenth count. If there was one thing you appreciated about RM as a client, it was his thoroughness and keen eye. He seemed to be well versed in details and aspects that some would deem insignificant.

“You’re punishing yourself slut. This is not a reward, and you don’t get to come until I say so,” he drawled out and your eyes flickered to the clock that hung on the wall above the screen. He didn’t have much time left in his session, but if there was one thing he could do, it was surprise you. He always did.

“Now,” he drew your attention back to him. “Once more, no cutting corners and you will listen to my commands exactly,” his voice cracked, and for a split second a spark of recognition lit in your brain. Unable to chase that thought as his hand on his cock sped up, pumping his length unashamedly, the sounds of his skin echoing in your ears, you held your breath waiting for his instructions.

“Understood?” He was back to his drawl and you mumbled a weak yes, your legs falling open until your hips ached.

“I didn’t hear you, understood?” he growled, his hand stilling around his cock, and by the twitch of his fingers you could tell he was desperately trying not to come. Satisfied at his reaction and reassured that you would get to come in the next few minutes, your pussy clenched in anticipation.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good, now, from the beginning,” he counted once more, his hand resuming lazily toying with his cock to the rhythm of your slaps.

It was painful, but the blows against your inflamed clit were sparking bouts of pleasure that engulfed you from head to toe. You let your head fall back, a loud mewl ripped from your throat. He was counting at a different pace, his voice never changing tones yet the numbers spilled past his lips in rapid succession, the slaps following it and the speed aiding you in reaching closer and closer towards your peak. As merciful as he was with counting, as ruthless with his teasing. Once he gaged your tense position, the muscles of your thighs trembling ready to release an hour of pent up lust, he stopped. Counting slowly and drawing out the numbers, making sure that you wouldn’t cheat and land more blows than he counted—these would be quick to bring you down from your high, leaving you achingly dissatisfied and craving for more.

“Twenty,” he counted, then stopped abruptly. Waiting patiently for his next move, you took the moment of respite to catch your breath and settle your quivering muscles. Everything ached, but most of all your dripping pussy ached with need, and you had half a mind to plan your next session as an offline one, the need to be filled trumping over your carefully planned schedule. Glancing at the clock you noticed you had mere minutes left of your session and you sighed. Your fun would be over in a moment, and the anticipation of an orgasm made your toes curl.

“We don’t have much time doll,” he voiced your thoughts, his breathing slightly more laboured than before. Revelling in the change, a spark of pride at having ruffled his feathers at least a bit you hummed lightly nodding. He couldn’t see your face, but he could hear you, and the squelching noises that your cunt made as you unceremoniously stuffed two fingers within you.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he tutted at you and you stopped your brows furrowing in confusion. Normally this is how your sessions would end, if you hadn’t come until last minute, he would give you free reign to give him a show whilst both you and him concentrated on getting the most out of your time. It seemed though, that he had other plans for you tonight.

“Grab your toy,” he softly instructed and you faltered for a moment before you obliged. Grabbing the bunny that was next to you, you turned it on to the lowest setting and waited.

“Touch your beautiful pussy with it for me,” he purred and you felt your whole body vibrate at his compliment. Eager to please him and your impatient core, you followed his demands shuddering with pleasure when the vibrations from the toy spread around, bringing you back to the previous high in no time.

“Does that feel good, doll?” he panted. So absorbed in your own pleasure you didn’t notice the screen displaying him as he increased the pace of his hand, furiously jerking around his cock.

“Yes, God, yes,” you moaned, the toy forcefully pressing on the sensitive outer lips and clit.

“Good,” he praised, “how much do you want to stuff it in you?” he questioned and you couldn’t do anything but groan at the thought. “Put it inside, doll. Push it as far as it can go, and imagine it’s my cock filling you up, rewarding you for being such a good slut for me.”

He didn’t have to repeat himself, the bunny was stuffed deep within your cunt even before he finished his sentence. The sensation along with the imagery painted by him, made your knees close up and your motions increased as you rammed the toy in and out of you. You were unable to spill out more than garbled noises, the coil in your stomach tightening and taking over any other rational thought. Faintly discerning his soft low moans in the background, you assumed he was also close and you increased the pace until all you could see was white.

“Sir…May I-,” you struggled to speak, but you knew better than to come without his permission. You were too long gone, the peak rearing its head in the form of shivers running down your spine.

“Come for me doll, let yourself go,” he growled and with that your orgasm hit and you yelled out, your hand stilling with the toy stuffed deep inside of you. The vibrations drew out your orgasm, until you were left a panting quivering mess and your sheets soaked with your sweat and juices. Hearing him groan you snapped your eyes back to the screen just in time to witness his cock twitch, cum jetting out into the air for a couple of spurts, before it settled and spilled over his hand.

You were satisfied, another hour well spent. Glancing at the clock you noticed you had thirty more seconds before it ended, and you smiled.

“Thank you for your service Sir,” you whispered softly. You hoped he heard you as you were unable to find the strength to speak louder.

His chuckle confirmed it and as he let go of his softening cock and grabbed a tissue from somewhere off screen he added. “It’s RM doll, we’re done here,” he said before the screen cut off and the letters ‘end session’ were displayed.

Smiling to yourself, your brain trying to place those words once more, you watched as the light on the camera turned from red to black as it switched off. Letting yourself relax, you sprawled your body onto the grimy sheets for a moment allowing yourself the respite to catch your breath. The room seemed small and constricting now that you were not focused on just the screen, and you wanted nothing more than to put your robe back on and take a nice relaxing shower. Your sessions with RM normally took the cake and you would be left either an angered edged mess or a pile of bones.

“I can’t imagine what this man is like in person.” And you couldn’t, but you wished you could. Judging by your online sessions, you assumed he would be a wonderful lover in the bedroom. One that wouldn’t give you much power, but one that made sure that you were as satisfied as he was by the end of it. Strangely your brain jumped straight to your boss, Namjoon. Before you could let those thoughts fester, and ruin a perfectly good evening, you forced yourself off the bed and back onto shaky legs. Tying your awaiting robe around you, you sighed at the mess you observed around you. The camera equipment would need to be put away, and the wet sheets needed to be set in the wash. Shaking your head you opened the door and exited.

It was not your job, that is what Jungkook was there for. You had other clients, the House of Lust waited for no one.

=======

“Y/N, in my office, now.” The crackled voice that came over your intercom broke you out of your trance. Sighing in despair you quickly glanced at Soobin, waiting for his reaction, before you realised he was engrossed into what seemed to be a captivating match of LoL. Shaking your head in disbelief at the younger one’s behaviour, you got up less than ceremoniously and made your way towards the lion’s den for the first time that day.

“You called me,” you made your way inside without knocking. A small rebellious act, but it was your only victory and you would take it. Slamming the door behind you without glancing at him once didn’t prepare you for what you experienced.

“…Sir?” your mouth hung open, the scene in front of view a rare sight that knocked the breath out of you.

Namjoon, Kim Namjoon, the devil in a suit, decided to forego his usual pristine appearance, for a more casual approach to his expensive tastes. Sat behind his desk, you had a clear view of the way his shirt hung loosely over his upper body. The first few buttons of the garment were undone, allowing you a clear view of his smooth skin and dip where his collarbones met the tautness of his muscles.

The effort you had to put in to concentrate on anything but his appearance felt like a task in itself. Keeping your eyes trained on the scenery behind him, you acknowledged him. “You asked for me, why?” your voice was clear even though your mind was swimming in a state of premature arousal.

“Less than satisfactory Y/N, once again. I really had high hopes for your design this time,” Namjoon shook his head, the disbelief readable on his face. You wanted to scoff and call him out for his lies. There was no reason for him to have that much faith in you, and there was no reason for you to have that much faith in him. He’s proven more than once that he delighted in picking you apart little by little, until your self-esteem hung by a thread. You found it hard to believe he would, at any point, root for you or your success. Abstaining from answering him, you swallowed your unprofessional response and nodded.

Namjoon regarded you for a moment, his eyes not betraying anything of what he was thinking. Gazing into his dark irises felt as if you were staring into the eyes of a shark, cold and calculating.

“Is there nothing you have to say,” he inquired leaning forwards onto his desk, resting his elbows on the hard wooden surface.

You swallowed hard, holding yourself back from retaliation. Shaking your head, your body felt like a string waiting to snap. Taut and under pressure. There was nothing more you wanted to tell him than how much of a pain in the ass he was. But instead of focusing on his shortcomings, your eyes couldn’t help but take in his energy, and the power he exuded. Sat at his desk, the landscape of skyscrapers as his background, his shoulders were pulled back emphasising his broad chest and the way his shirt fought to hang onto his frame. You avoided his face, knowing that as handsome as it was, you’d crack and either spit all your work frustrations at him or let out all your sexual frustrations on him. Either way, it was a sure ticket to getting fired, or worse, arrested.

“Y/N, when I’m asking you a question, I’m expecting a verbal answer.” Namjoon said, every syllable enunciated as if he was talking to someone less capable.

Not giving you a chance to carry on ignoring him, Namjoon rose from his seat, and smiled lightly when he noticed the small tension in your back at his movement. His steps were slow and calculated, his gaze trained on you and every reaction you had to him, however big or small, the twitch in your finger when he was less than a metre away from you, the tremble in your chin when he stood so close you could smell his expensive aftershave. Nothing escaped his notice. Taking note of them, he stood in front of you, blocking your view of the city.

“You didn’t ask a question per se,” you bit your lip cursing yourself for the knee jerk reaction. Not noticing the way Namjoon paused at your response, a thoughtful look on his face, you continued. “And I don’t know what to answer, Sir.” You could feel your blood boiling, if there was anything you hated, it was being subservient in front of this man. His body blocking your previous means of distraction, you had no choice but to keep your eyes trained on his smooth skin, his Adam’s apple being more than prominent when he swallowed to speak.

“How about we start with an apology, Y/N?.” Confused, your eyes snapped up to meet him. “I will apologise for having to put you on probation for a couple of weeks and you apologise for offering me these designs for weeks in a row,” he said forcing you to take a step back.

“Probation?” Your brows furrowed completely glossing over the rest of his request. You weren’t about to apologise for your own hard work.

Namjoon tapped his fingers onto the side of your arm to gather your full attention before he handed you the papers. “You will find all the explanations here, there are a few things that you will need to do to navigate this…mishap.” He made sure to emphasise the word, as if it was something that brought him pleasure.

“Namjoon,” you started, the surprise of his news making you forget who you were talking to in the first place. Upon glancing at his expression, the thunderous look in his eyes made you reconsider the way you addressed him. “Sir,” not giving him time to call you out on your mistake, you waved the papers around. “I know what a probation is, but why, after so many years of having worked here, am I called—“ you glanced at the words, “—unsatisfactory and unprofessional?” The words stuck out to you like a sore thumb, their impact on your being greater than you could have imagined. You felt as if the walls were collapsing on you little by little, and despite the airy spacious layout of Namjoon’s office, you felt breathless. The strength and fight that were present merely hours before seemed to have been knocked out of you with just a few words typed on a sheet of paper and you couldn’t muster the strength to gather yourself.

Wrapped up in your thoughts you didn’t notice the careful way Namjoon observed you, the small furrow of his brows barely visible to an untrained eye. When you glanced up at him, all you saw was a cold, unfeeling mask, something that made your insecurities rear their ugly head for the first time in your career.

“That is just a preliminary observation Y/N,” he spoke so nonchalantly that it made you feel as if he’s stepped on your windpipe. “I don’t think you’re unprofessional, I think you’re unwilling to put in the effort to better yourself. And I can’t have stagnant employees.” The ease with which the insults came out of his mouth left your mouth hanging open. The small reassurance that he didn’t think of you as unprofessional helped you find your voice to question him further.

“So…you think I’m just lazy?” you tried to clarify, finding the situation more and more ridiculous.

“That is a very layman way to put it, but yes,” he agreed. “If you prefer the word, then yes. I see the potential, but you seem unwilling to give it a shot. Now,” he said, glancing at his watch, “I have some phone calls to make.” He turned around, not sparing you another glance, and you took that as your dismissal. Had you needed to spend another minute in there you may have actually ended up committing murder.

Huffing lightly, you turned around on your heels and exited, making sure to close the door behind you less than gracefully. You were done for the day, and as he called you in only to chastise you and not give you more work you didn’t feel the guilt building up in your stomach when you glanced at the clock and saw the time as you were packing up your bags ready to leave. Ignoring the light wetness coating your underwear and your flashing thoughts about collarbones and taut muscles you exited the office, offering Soobin a small smile and wave goodbye.

4 o’clock in the afternoon. Perfect. Work was done, time to play.

======

Entering the unassuming building, you made your way towards the back of the floor, passing by reception greeting your usual receptionist—you only worked evenings and your pattern had never changed. There was always the same receptionist at the desk.

“Hullo Yoongi, any new clients?” you leaned in, pressing your forearms onto the counter, eyeing the handsome man behind the desk. He was a sight to look at, you had to give it to him. With slicked back auburn hair and a baby face that made him look younger than he was, you could have easily mistaken him for one of you. And he could’ve easily applied and got the job. No matter how much you prodded though, he never gave away the reason for his adamant refusal to work behind the scenes rather than front scene. Though his looks did help draw customers to book; women and men alike started fawning from get go.

Yoongi rolled his chair, clicking the mouse on the screen a few times and his brows furrowed in concentration. The urge to roll your eyes washed over you so strongly you had to clear your throat to stop yourself.

“Stop pretending, your memory is incredibly good,it’s practically eidetic, anyone new?” you tutted knowing you’d get a rise out of him.

“Y/N, please stop, you sound like my mother,” Yoongi mumbled half concentrated onto the screen. His statement made you pause, and you poked your tongue in your cheek thoughtfully. Yoongi never mentioned his family, none of you did. It wasn’t something that was particularly conducive in this type of work. However, you wondered if that night he spent helping you satisfy your client helped him relax more around you.

You could still remember the desperate look in his eyes when you rushed out of your booked room, half naked and bra hanging off one arm, asking him why no one’s arrived as your third party for your video call with RM. Your scheduled session had already started, and when RM pointedly asked where your partner was, you lost it. Mistakes in the House of Lust rarely happened, and this seemed to be one of those odd times. Frantically, Yoongi had tried to check a few potential workers for you, but no one was available. That was probably the first time you’d seen him so erratic, and you’d probably never forget the resigned look in his eyes when he said he’d be the substitute.

Sceptical but concerned about your job more than you were about his performance skills, you rushed him in the smaller room, the camera already set up and RM’s familiar mouth watering, lower frame on screen. He’d been playing with himself, you could tell by the veins running along his length. You almost rushed to take your spot in front of the screen, ready to finish your session, before you remembered the older man waiting behind you.

“You ready?” you checked again, the glint in Yoongi’s eyes confusing you. Yoongi barely spared you a glance before he brushed past you, mumbling for you to call him Suga from there on, eyes fixed on the screen where RM continued to rub his hand along his dick. Eyes wide, you witnessed his confident strut as he sat himself into your spot, apologising softly towards your client for the delay. You had a harder time believing the scene playing in front of you when Yoongi started undressing without being prompted, his slim frame revealing itself to you.

The rest passed in a blur—, you remembered clearly the moment Yoongi and RM became acquainted, at ease with each other so quickly you suspected it was not their first rodeo. When RM’s voice inquired about you, you’d been so absorbed in your own thoughts you didn’t move until Yoongi pulled on your arm. The motion happened so quickly that you barely registered your position, nor how aroused you were; until you were comfortably seated over your colleague. His dick prodding at your sopping entrance, and sheathing himself within you before you could even say a word.

“Y/N?” Yoongi’s inquisitive voice broke you out of your thoughts, and you spared him a quick glance, your stomach tightening at the thought of that night. You found it more arousing than you cared to admit, but you knew Yoongi would prefer to stay out of the House’s physical business. He was stuck on the excels and the numbers, and you wouldn’t dare cross that.

“Yes, sorry, my mind’s just not fully with it yet, I had a dreadful day today,” you stopped yourself from revealing more. If there was one rule you’d never cross, it was talking about your day job. You’d made that mistake once, and allowed Yoongi and Jungkook a snippet of what it was like, before you were gently reminded by the older man that you weren’t supposed to share this information with them. They had it in your employee file anyways, but only the hard cold facts, never anything personal. And you’d do well to keep it that way. Unfortunately sometimes you’d forget that fact. Yoongi’s calm composure struck you as someone to be trusted, and that elicited a knee jerk reaction from you to dump secrets on him.

Yoongi nodded, his face softening in understanding. Though he asked you to not share your private life, the little that you let slip and his ability to put two and two together were enough for him to know of your daily hardship at work. He couldn’t sympathise, but he could empathise and he could only hope the news he had for you wouldn’t make your day even more sour than it was. He normally wouldn’t ask, but something in the downturn of your mouth told him you needed a small vent.

“Is it your boss again?” he asked, making himself busy with counting the imperfections on the wall.

You paused, your brain struggling to catch up with Yoongi’s curiosity. You nodded, but knowing his aversion to personal affairs didn’t expand more than, “It’s just been a long day.”

Yoongi didn’t need more than that. An understanding nod and a small pat on your shoulder were all he could offer, but you appreciated them nonetheless. Making sure to show him that, you smiled lightly in his direction. The last few lines of stress and worry washed off your face in favour of your usual House of Lust work attitude. Confidence and eroticism. After all, you never mixed jars, and you weren’t about to start now.

House of Lust was a place where anyone and everyone played out their pleasures and fantasies. No questions asked, everyone was safe under its services. You’d been working there for a long time, in a basement room with a camera, before you stepped out of the comfort of cybersex offered you. When you asked to take on clients physically, you encountered no reluctance from management. The only time you’d ever be pulled into a performance meeting would be if the professional way with which the House prided itself in was blurred. A stark contrast compared to your other job.

“Now, what else is new around here?” you dropped your voice as you struggled to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. Turning your attention to Yoongi’s form, the mixture of right timing had you notice first hand the drop in expression. Worried something must have happened to him, you faced him fully, hand tentatively reaching for his elbow.

“Yoongi?” you inquired slowly, carefully analysing the tick in his facial muscles. You’ve known him for a while, else the slight tremble in his jaw may have escaped your notice. But your keen eye and habit of being observant made you realise that he was angry about something. Or was it with someone? “What happened?”

“I just-“ Yoongi paused, his dark eyes meeting yours for the first time since your conversation had started. “It’s nothing.” Noticing the crease at the corner of your eyes, your lightly pursed lips and overall demeanour of ‘do not sell me bullshit’ written all over your face he sighed, shoulders dropping in defeat.

“There was a feedback email…” When your inquisitive face morphed into confusion, Yoongi further explained. “From your client. Well, for you really.” Yoongi cleared his throat, hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck briefly. He could feel the emotional sweat gathering at his temple, and he could only pray that you either dismiss his statement or are emotionally balanced enough to not wreak havoc on the place when you read said feedback. Seeing none of those emotions on your face, he almost allows himself to relax until you grab his wrist and motion to the screen.

“Show me.” Your voice was calm, collected, akin to a yoga practitioner’s and Yoongi found it mildly intimidating. He’s never heard you be this… devoid of ardour. Your usual impassioned manner made you an easy person to read, and an easier book to uncover. Yoongi knew there was no use in turning this around, he’d let the cat out of the bag and he needed to deliver. Letting you wait for his response he pulled up the email opening it before getting up from his seat to allow you more room.

“Here.”

“What is this?” you inquired, eyes turning towards the screen. As you took in the words that instantly jumped at you, it made your heart stop and blood hot with rage. Unsatisfactory, unprofessional, could develop more skills….

“Y/N?” Yoongi paused, gaging your facial expression. Your eyes were stone cold, your mouth in a tight line as you skimmed the email. Yoongi’s attention was solely on the way your hands were gripping the chair, your knuckles almost turning white from the lack of blood flow. He could have allowed you to have a moment, the rage radiating off you, however he was aware of your ways of dealing with emotional turmoil. So when an idea popped into his head, he didn’t hesitate to share it.

“Y/N, how about you email back, asking him for a way to redeem yourself?” He started and when he noticed your nostrils flaring at his suggestion, he carried on explaining himself. “A compensation if you will, for free,” he knew timing was of importance so he didn’t stop there, “Just to get him in, and then you can show him what less than satisfactory means.” He held his breath for a moment, hoping that you would understand what he meant.

He saw the tension in your shoulders ease with each passing second as you mulled his words in your head. He made a point. You could finally meet this pretentious RM, who’d been nothing but a sweet torture ever since he became your client. Every time you had a session booked with him you couldn’t help but anticipate his mood. Was he going to go easy on you and allow you to come freely; was he going to drag it on until you were a soaking begging mess? He always kept you on your toes. And as much as your cunt liked that, you couldn’t help but also despise it.

A part of you realised this may also be a move in this cat and mouse game the two of you have been playing, but you found that you didn’t care. It was time to bring the big guns out. Cracking your fingers you looked at Yoongi long enough for the man to see the glint in them.

“You’re right, let’s send him a satisfactory response, shall we?”

=====

The room was on a different floor, this one tailored towards physical activities. You knew where you were going, having entertained clients on both floors. Familiar with the layout you followed the corridor down until you reached the dark door that stood shut for the time being. Not thinking about it, you pushed the handle and entered, your mind distracted by various unimportant thoughts.

Your lack of attention was short lived though, for in the middle of the room, the small noise of someone coughing drew your thoughts back in.

“I’m finally meeting you,” the voice was loud and deep, its timbre and unwavering flow exuding confidence. Confidence that got completely sucked out of you when your eyes rose to meet with the man that stood in the room. The man whose alias you’ve known up until now as RM. The man whose real name you also knew all too well.

“Kim Namjoon?” your eyes widened for a split second before you reminded yourself where you were. This was your turf, and you called the shots here.

The image of your own boss standing there in all his suited glory, his strong presence filling up the room along with his expensive scent made you dizzy. You knew you’d already lost, and for a moment a myriad of conflicting thoughts flooded your brain. From relief to tension, you could feel your body respond to his appearance. Maybe this wasn’t your turf anymore.

“Y/N.” Namjoon, RM, addressed you, his strong voice making your body vibrate. You weren’t a stranger to his demands, nor were you a newbie at dealing with him, both professionally and sexually it seemed. Yet, there was something in this situation of having met him for the first time as both people mashed into one. It was as if it were your first time encountering him. You couldn’t stop the shivers of desire that licked at your insides, nor could you stop yourself from listening to him. The retribution you had planned when you first sent that email to RM seemed to have been banished somewhere in the depths of your mind, cornered by the colossal attraction that vibrated through your whole being.

He stood there, in the middle of the room, having just dismissed your surprise with a flick of his hand, a gesture he seemed to do a lot in the office. His proud stance and strong shoulders screamed familiar to you, yet the way he regarded you, as if he could devour you in one breath, without hesitation- that was new to you.

Your demise was written in his hooded eyes; the desire to take you all for himself, to control you, as you melted like putty underneath him- it was all an open book. He silently observed you, his dark eyes analysing every tremor of your muscle, every movement of your chest as you inhaled. Every time you swallowed he would zero in onto your collarbones and your urge to tease him grew stronger and stronger. Slowly, without breaking your gaze, you slid your hands down your body feeling the way your whole being vibrated with the desire to please him. The corset holding you in suddenly felt like too much clothing.

Undoing the strings one by one, you took a deep breath in when the loosened fabric pooled at your ankles. Leaving you stark naked to Namjoon’s eyes.

Standing there, in the middle of the room, the hotel-like appearance of the space; from its carefully folded sheets, to the neatly placed bottle of champagne and the menu on the bed, you felt strangely outraged by the clinical setting. Something in the way Namjoon’s eyes were drinking you in, his eyes never staying too long on one strip of naked skin, but rather observing every inch of you; it made you feel as if you wanted to move the setting. Move it to somewhere smaller, more intimate, where you could make yourself at home and overpower this mammoth CEO that made it a point to make each of your days a living hell.

Locking eyes with him you didn’t even notice when your hands started following the invisible traces he was leaving with his eyes onto your smooth skin. Gently tracing the curve of your hip, flowing upwards, tickling the side of your ribs until you reached the peak of your breast. The buzz in your brain was growing exponentially with each second that passed, and your hands were getting more and more daring as you grabbed your breasts and squeezed, your moan snapping his attention back to your face.

“It’s time to play.” Your voice couldn’t rise above a whisper even if you tried, the ardent fire that licked at your core spread through you in seconds. Watching him pull his belt and fling it to the other side of the room set you on edge, you knew what was coming and you could feel your own mouth watering at the thought of it. The slow pull of his zip felt like torture, each tooth undone made your heartbeat increase, until you could hear your own rapid breathing echoing through your head.

When he pulled his trousers and underwear down and stepped out of his clothes, you fought not to moan. He was built so prettily, his strong thighs complimented his shoulders and his dick, already hard and dripping for you, made you crave a taste. Your own fate hung by a thread and when he motioned you over, long elegant fingers pointing to his feet.

“Kneel.” He demanded, his jaw tight eyes void of any emotion as he lazily stroked his hardened member.

Your emotions were at odds with each other, he was your boss – the horrible boss that always pointed out what you did wrong, even when you hadn’t. But right now, he was your client. The same client you had witnessed come all over his own hand as you spread yourself open over the camera, offering him a view of your engorged clit. The same client who would demand you touch yourself in such a lewd way you almost came from his voice alone. The client who made you submit to his desires more than once, even going as far as to involve another one of your colleagues into one of your sessions. Just because he wanted to witness your pussy stuffed with cock as he ordered the both of you what to do. Once on camera You were his puppet and he knew that.

You kept your gaze fixed on his, never once wavering, your last rebellious act; yet your body willingly submitted, your feet taking you closer to him. You stopped only when you were close enough to touch him, slowly lowering yourself, your knees now touching the plush carpet. You fought against your desire to pry your eyes away from him; the position you were in allowed you to freely see the slow movement of his hand around his dick. You knew that the moment you allowed yourself to watch him as he pleasured himself, you would be at his complete mercy. Instead, you tried to focus on your other senses. Close enough to be surrounded by his scent you slowly blinked, taking a deep breath in.

He smelled dark and dangerous, like lust personified, luring you to get closer to him, to touch him. You licked your lips, a suppressed moan dying in your throat. He smelled strong enough that you could almost taste him on your tongue and for a second you almost gave in.

“Puppet,” he scowled at you, his hand reaching out for your neck slowly wrapping it around it. He didn’t apply any pressure, but the feeling of his long slender fingers against your windpipe made you quiver.

Namjoon enjoyed the softness of your skin underneath the rough pads of his palm, and for a second he allowed himself to squeeze lightly, taking pleasure in the small intake of air he pulled out of you. He enjoyed making you squirm, he realised. More than anything. During all of the sessions you both had and, in the office where you both had to pretend you were being professional. He enjoyed having that power over you, and most importantly he enjoyed having you do your best to fight him for said dominance.

Now that he knew who you were, he had even more power over you. Regardless of the NDA he signed when he joined as one of your clients, he knew he could play this information to his advantage. After all, wouldn’t have been the COO of the company if he didn’t know how to play his cards.

“You know what to do doll,” his voice was calm and levelled, yet you knew not to cross him. In the office that voice meant disciplinary action if you did, and here… well, you knew what discipline in the bedroom meant for him. At least his wants. He’s told you multiple times what he wished to do if you disobeyed him, some of which made your skin heat up and do exactly that.

Nevertheless, today was not the day. It was your first time having a session with him offline. Your first time seeing his hard cock fully in front of you and being able to touch it, and with the way he pumped earlier, it stood high and proud, its tip pointing towards you awaiting a lavishing of attention. Who were you to pass that up?

Your eyes never leaving his, despite your desperate need to admire his dick. Previous experience made you appreciate the sight of an exquisite one, and his was one of the best you’d seen.

And he’s your boss, in more ways than one, you mused. Allowing yourself to gaze at him fully, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of his cock staring right at you. The cock you’ve only seen over the screen. The one you fantasised about during sessions and sometimes even in your own private sessions. The cock that promised a lot of pleasure and pain at the same time.

Unwilling to wait for further instructions, and the wish to impress him, you reached out for the swollen member, your fingers wrapping around his girth and testing its heaviness in your palm. It was fascinating how enthralled you were by a muscle, yet you couldn’t stop.

“That’s it doll,” Namjoon praised you, his words barely registering in your head. You were on a mission to lavish his cock, and nothing would deter you from reaching your goal—his cum in your mouth.

Without a thought you leaned in, your lips pursed as you placed a daring kiss to the swollen tip. Namjoon gave no indication of having felt it, or being impressed. His breathing was still calm and levelled and his hands stayed firmly by his side. Taking it as a challenge, you continued to press your lips all around his length and your palm feeling his soft skin, your ears hunting for any signs of pleasure from him.

Silently an amused Namjoon observed you. The way you so eagerly needed to please him, your eyes closed as you concentrated on his dick made him tense up. He found himself more than once going over work admin in his head to stop himself from making a sound or a move. All he wanted to do as he took in your form knelt before him, his cock in your mouth, was to grab you by the back of your head and thrust himself as far as he could go down your throat. He needed to make you plead, tears running down your cheeks as he stuffed you full of his dick. But it was not the time for that. You had more than enough left of your session for him to unleash his fantasies, and make yours come true.

Namjoon’s silence unnerved you, the thought of not doing your job properly exasperated you. The only sign of enjoyment came during a final attempt, when you frustratedly sucked on the drops of precum leaking from the tip drawing a sharp inhale from him. Spurred on by this, you carried on sucking his tip, the tip of your tongue peaking out from time to time to gather his juices, the taste lingering on your tongue.

You didn’t even realise you were moaning until Namjoon roughly grabbed the back of your head, bringing your movements to a halt.

“You’re so loud sucking on my cock,” he observed and you had the decency to flush in anger, you weren’t planning on giving in to him. “Do you like having your mouth stuffed, doll?” With your mouth still full of his dick, its length resting heavily on your tongue, you couldn’t do anything but moan deeply and nod your head. You did want it, you wanted him to use you as he saw fit. Even if he was paying for the service, you did have the freedom to refuse, but you didn’t want to.

“Then get ready to be my cocksleeve,” he barely gave you the warning before he thrust his hips roughly sheathing himself down your throat. The forceful movement took you by surprise, a lone yelp followed by a stray tear as he hit the back of your throat repeatedly. With each thrust he seemed to be getting more and more impatient, his relentless rhythm barely giving you time to inhale before he nailed your oesophagus once more.

“Ahhh who would have thought you’re capable of using that loud mouth of yours like this,” he purred teasingly. The words struck a chord in you and your determination to show him what you were made of, made you regain control of yourself.

The new fire burning under your skin and deep down within your abdomen made you shift to get a better angle and you relaxed your throat. Rushing to not allow him to make use of you as he wanted, you grabbed a hold of his strong thighs marvelling at their size.

You knew he worked out, having witnessed more than once his return into the office from the gym, all dressed in shorts and a muscle tank, sweat still staining the fabric. More than once on those occasions you felt your panties twist as you writhed on your chair, thighs pressed together in an attempt to alleviate the pressure building in your core. He was a sight, and you got to experience it first hand instead of behind a screen and expensive clothes.

Namjoon wasn’t loud, a fact that you were desperately trying to change. the only indication of his pleasure coming out in heavy pants and deep low groans you struggled to draw a moan out of him, your fingers digging deep into the strong muscle of his ass.

“Fuck,” you knew you weren’t meant to hear it, but the way you tightened your throat around him, released a guttural moan. He felt his balls tighten before he pushed you away roughly, the action making your throat burn and his dick to pop out with a loud noise. Namjoon pumped himself a few times before you felt the warmth of his cum hit your collarbone once, twice, you lost count—your eyes enthralled onto his expression. The pure ecstasy in his eyes as they met yours was enough to urge you to engulf him in your mouth as the last remnants of his orgasm shot down your throat.

You pulled away from him, his taste lingering on your tongue. For a moment the room was silent, Namjoon’s breathing having regained its slower pace as he came down from his high, and you took the time to plan your next move. You knew it wouldn’t be long before he was ready to go again. You’d experienced him coming twice over the camera, and that was only by witnessing your eager fingers pleasuring yourself. Eyes scouring along the room you slowly rose to your feet coming face to face with the man whose name was deeply engraved onto your skin.

The silence extended for a moment, before you felt something shift in the both of you. It felt as if the string finally broke, the fire raging within you meeting the lust burning underneath his own skin, and you flung yourself at him. Mouths clashed unceremoniously, teeth clattering before your lips pressed against each other roughly. You didn’t care that you were hanging off him like a koala in a tree, nor when he picked you up from underneath your ass and carried you to the bed.

Dropping you onto the mattress, forcing your lips apart, Namjoon followed you onto the bed. His frame towered over yours easily, and for a moment he stood there his lips ghosting over yours in a teasing kiss. Unexpectedly his hand snapped around your neck easily enveloping it before he squeezed eliciting a moan out of you. The flurry of limbs and articles of his clothing that followed, all the while your neck was kept in his hold making you dizzy.

Unable to help yourself, you pressed both hands onto his chest, marvelling at the defined muscle tensing underneath your touch. With unexpected ease you pushed Namjoon as you straddled him. Your lips were pulsing from the returning blood flow and you stifled a moan as you felt his hardened dick under you. “I won,” you whispered in his ear as you smirked. Leant over him, your hair tickling his nose, a waft of something sweet invaded his nostrils. You’d both been at it for a while, and your bodies were sheen with slick, yet your scent still drew him in like a siren’s call.

“So I think it’s only fair…” you trailed off, your fingers scraping against his chest slowly as his breathing increased in pace. “That I get to say what we do next,” you pulled away the exact moment Namjoon decided to sod it all off and overpower you as he wished, regardless of your agreement.

Pushing you carefully off of him, he turned you round quickly, his body completely rolling yours over. You yelped in surprise, a wave of excitement rushing through you as your back hit the mattress bouncing lightly off it before Namjoon’s weight settled over yours.

“I think you forgot, doll,” he mimicked your earlier actions, his nose buried deep inside the crook of your neck inhaling. “Who is in charge here, and in the office,” it was the first time he mentioned your life outside of House of Lust, and whereas you thought you’d be panicking and pushing him away, you found yourself doing the opposite.

You liked it, you realised. You liked him acknowledging what connection you had outside of your world of thrists and quick fuck sessions over the webcam. He was the only client that knew of your identity outside of here, and he thrived on that power. And you were giving in to him without a second thought.

You arched your back. It was a small gesture of submission but you knew it would be enough. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling lightly at the scalp—it was enough for him. It may have been the first time he took you in person, got to feel your body under his, your flesh in his hands, but he was still your boss. He knew you better than you thought. Years of having worked for him taught him to observe little things about you that came in useful between the sheets.

“I don’t think so,” your velvety purr in the shell of his ear and the click of a buckle made him pause, his teeth sunken into the flesh between your neck and shoulder. “You wanted the full experience,” the inconspicuous collar you had prepared was now fully settled around his neck. “You will get the full experience.”

Namjoon felt the weight of it around his neck before he felt the tug. The bite of the leather that rested around his neck made his cock twitch. The knowledge that the power was now in your hands sent waves of arousal up his spine, and he leaned back for a moment, his eyes taking you in. Your hair, though messy, was framing your face, lips swollen and shiny from your combined activities pouting up at him, the corners of your mouth in a small upward smile and your eyes shining with mischief. You looked wild, and thoroughly ready to fuck.

“Beautiful,” he found himself whispering, expertly ignoring your sharp inhale. He’s rarely complimented you, if at all, and hearing him so openly admire you spurred you on.

Lying back on the bed, the bed sheets wrinkled around you. The satin material haphazardly wrapped itself around you in your struggle to straddle Namjoon, its folds barely covering you. You got into a familiar position; knees high up and legs splayed open. You would’ve felt completely self conscious under his scrutinising gaze, one that you’ve seen one too many times in the office during meetings, if not for the upper hand that you had. Pulling on his choker you brought him closer to you, a smirk teasing at the corner of your lips.

“Lick me. Lick me until I cream all over your face,” you demanded, narrowing your eyes at him. For a moment everything stood still, nothing moved. From time to time bouts of your ragged breathing would pierce the silence that settled over you. The lingering dominant energy between the two of you made your stomach flip with worry. You were hungry for him, and if he insisted on the power play you had very little fight left in you. If he demanded to be let go and do what he willed with you, you would’ve done it in a heartbeat.

Namjoon stared at you a while longer, his pride slightly bashed. But the fire in your eyes as you stared him down, daring him to cross you, as your legs lewdly displayed his most precious prize, he found himself enthralled. You were so beautiful and fierce, seduction personified. He couldn’t say no, but he could take pleasure in making you squirm for a few moments.

“Namjoon,” you warned when he didn’t make a move. A last desperate thought entered your mind, and you went with it. Loosening the grip on the leash, you lightly let your free hand travel down your body. Starting from your collarbones, down the curvature of your breasts. Your fingers lingered on your nipples, drawing a sharp hiss out of you as you circled them slowly.

“Alright then,” your words sounded like a drawn out moan, “Since you insist, I’ll make myself feel good, and you can watch,” you emphasised with a slight tug to your nipple before you cupped the breast, fully squeezing it.

You were trying to lure him in, your pretence of pleasuring yourself meant to drive him to the edge enough that he would cater to you. What you didn’t expect was for him to take a small step back, eyes focused on your movements. His hand shamelessly wrapped around his own length, his fingers lightly playing with the foreskin, spreading his pre-cum.

“Go ahead, let me watch you,” he motioned, eyes shining with mischief making yours darken with disbelief. “You forget Y/N, that our interactions were over a camera. Watching you pleasure yourself is one thing I am very much used to,” he supplied, hand gripping onto his dick, the sliding motion distracting you for a moment. With just a few words he’s managed to slowly deflate you.

Cursing him out under your breath, your brain fought to find new ways of counteracting his dismissal, but you found that you couldn’t get yourself to focus. His hand on his cock was taunting you. He was right, you were both used to this image, so then how was it so easy for him to just watch you, when you could barely keep your hands to yourself?

The emotions that flooded you were so unexpected and surprising, you couldn’t hold in the hiccup that spilled out of your chest. Unable to meet his inquisitive eyes, you fumbled lightly with the leash, your grip on it slowly lessening until it was only loosely hanging through your fingers. “Fuck it Namjoon, does it hurt to be civil at least once?” you grit through your teeth, your keen eyes noticing the way his nostril flared at your use of his name. Knowing you hit a spot you carried on, his name repeated like a mantra along with your fingers working on your folds. Caressing. The letters spilling from your lips, as if it would help pull the string that sat tightly knotted in your abdomen leading you to your orgasm.

Namjoon watched enthralled, his attention never straying from your fingers prodding, pinching and pressing your own pleasure buttons. The smirk painted on his plump lips did nothing but aggravate the desire you felt, and so you slid two fingers in marvelling at how easily they went in.

“See how wet and ready you make me…?” pausing for effect you scissored your fingers within your folds making the wetness squelch around them. “Sir.” You watched as Namjoon’s restraint waned to nothing, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every hard swallow he took, his eyes glued to your fingers. His own hand worked at pumping his dick faster and faster and you arched your back off the bed trying to match his pace.

“Is this what you love,” Namjoon finally spoke, his voice hoarse and rushed as if he was trying to catch his breath. You could easily spot the light sheen of sweat that painted his soft skin, and without thinking you licked your lips imagining what it would taste like. If he only got a bit closer….

“Pleasuring yourself in front of someone else?” He finally pulled his eyes away from your wet cunt.

“I like pleasure, Namjoon,” you stated as deadpan as you could nearing your peak. “I would prefer it if it came from a dick,” you shrugged matter of factly but not ceasing your own movement.

Namjoon took it as an invitation, his hands reluctantly leaving his own pleasure, his skin still tingling from thinking about your hands on him. Pulling the leash out of your loose hold, he relished in the ease with which you relented. He knew he had you, after all, he was your boss and he would continue being your boss long after. Carelessly undoing your hard work he tossed it behind him, the heavy material clinking onto the floor, breaking your concentration for a moment.

Dazed eyes opened to observe his movements and you only had a brief second before Namjoon was pulling at your ankles tightly, bringing you closer to the edge of the bed where he sat kneeling. Repeating his praises, he locked eyes with you. The restraint was long gone from them, and you knew that your playtime was over.

“It’s time to stop playing pretend Y/N,” he announced before he dove in. Kissing his way up your body, engulfing you in himself, no inch of your skin got left unmarked by his lips or teeth. You writhed, your body moulding under his touch, the skin that he seared with his lips trembling of its own accord, as if alive. You gripped the sheets tightly, your hips struggling to stay still even under his weight.

“Fuck, Namjoon, that’s the spot,” you mewled, his teeth nipping at your nipples lightly, his tongue traced the puckered nub, before he latched onto your breast. Sucking as if his life depended on it, he rutted his hips into you, the smooth length of his dick sliding between your folds making you jolt.

“Joon,” you pulled away, shaking your head at the very last minute. Every colour within the darkened room seemed more vibrant, your ears prickling with each rustle of the bedsheet, your thighs throbbing from where his fingers dug deep into your flesh.

“Sir,” you repeated, the tips of your fingers lightly pulling at the dampened hairs at the nape of his neck.

“I need you in me. Fuck your cum in me Namjoon, I’ve been wanting this, show me how unprofessional you can be,” you taunted spreading your legs further apart for emphasis. Your core was throbbing with the need for his cock to fill you to the brim, and you would do anything in your power to achieve that.

Namjoon didn’t react, his eyes closing for a moment. A moment too long, and you thought you may have crossed the line. Heart in your chest you reached out for his arm. Your fingers barely grazed his smooth skin before he snapped his eyes open, making you reel back.

“If there is one thing about me that you need to keep in mind, Y/N,” his eyes were darkened, this time you sensed danger, there was nothing lustful in the way they hardened and furrowed into slits. “I am never unprofessional.” Barely allowing you to process what he said he pulled you towards him, his hands roughly spreading your knees.

Lining himself up with your pussy, he ran his length through your folds a few times slapping your clit harshly with his cock.

“You want this?” he taunted, sliding the tip inside of you for a moment, before he pulled it out. His jeer elicited loud whines out of you, your hips raising off the bed, pleading for his dick to fill you. Pausing for a moment, Namjoon smirked, his hand wrapped around his cock a few centimetres away from your entrance.

“Be careful what you wish for Y/N,” he growled in your ear. “You’re so wet you barely need to be prepped,” His palm delivered a harsh blow to your ass, catching your pussy in the process. The sharp sting of his palm paired with the wet sound of his skin making contact with yours made you purr in delight.

Lurching forward his cock entered you with one movement, and without giving you time to adjust he started ramming his hips into you. At his quick entrance you closed your eyes, allowing the pleasure to envelop your senses, the white dots that danced behind your eyelids getting bigger and bigger with each of his thrusts.

“Fuck, Namjoon,” you managed to stutter. When he groaned in warning, slamming his cock deeper into you, you gulped. “Sir, please, harder.”

He pulled your legs over his shoulders, uncaring whether or not it was comfortable for you. The position made your muscles cramp for a moment before he slammed once more into you, bottoming you out. The different angle hit deep inside your core, the tip of his cock bruising your womb with each thrust and you yelled out in pleasure.

“Are you going to be a good girl and cream all over my cock Y/N?” he coaxed you silkily, the pads of his fingers pressing deeper into your thighs.

Barely able to breathe through his powerful thrusts within your pussy, you concentrated on the loud sounds of his skin slapping yours and the occasional squelch of your folds as they opened up for him. Chasing the feeling in your abdomen you groaned loudly gripping his arms—the only way to signal your crashing orgasm.

“Fuck, RM-“ the choked sobs coming out of your mouth sounded unfamiliar to your pleasure riddled brain and within seconds you let yourself go, the white spots covering your vision completely. Your thighs spasmed with the force of your pleasure, and your pussy clenched around Namjoon making it hard for him to keep his pace.

“You’re so tight, coming all over me,” he croaked, feeling his own orgasm hit him. Mid thrust he stopped, allowing it to wash over him, before he slammed himself deep enough into you to feel your cervix.

“Fuck, yes, I want to feel your cum burning into me,” you croaked, your hands grabbing at every inch of skin you could, digging your nails into his clenching muscles.

Coming down from your high felt like a blur. Aware of the lack of time, you let yourself be wrapped in the bed sheets, moaning at the sensory overload from the silky material touching your inflamed skin.

“I take back my comment,” Namjoon whispered before he settled to kiss your forehead lightly. The last thing you remembered before you dozed off in a post coital bliss was his small smirk as he closed the door after him.

“See you in the office, Y/N.”

=====

Day in day out, always running around grasping at straws and your sanity trying to make your boss somewhat satisfied. Nothing seemed enough, not once had your designs been approved without a massive touch up or even a whole new different design.

Staring at the email in despair, you groaned for what seemed like the nth time catching Soobin’s attention.

“Again?” he asked, not bothering to look up from his screen. Luckily he didn’t because in that moment, a strong vibration shot up from your pussy to your throat and you flinched. Swallowing the moan that threatened to rip out of your throat, you shifted in your seat hoping to alleviate the pressure building up in your stomach. Deep within your folds you had a dildo waiting to make your life miserable at work.

Hoping to keep your appearance as unbothered as possible, you masked the deep lewd moan with a cough. Slamming your hand onto the chair, your hand gripped its handle until your knuckles turned white. It was pure torture having to go about your day with a wild card stuck up your most private part, waiting to undo you at the most inconvenient of times. But you’d promised and you were paid for this–even if, after that night you’d gladly do it just to witness his hungry gaze on you.

“Again what?” you bit your lip as your core clenched around the object prodding at its insides. Barely focusing on your younger colleague, your eyes rose to check on the door to the boss’ office, closed as usual. Furrowing your brows, you let your head fall backwards, a small groan escaping past your lips as your thighs clenched. The sting and pleasure of the electricity that travelled up and down your spine made you want to get stark naked, to alleviate the uncomfortable yet arousing feeling of your clothes touching your clammy skin.

Soobin shrugged, swivelling in his chair to face you. His amused face quickly morphed into worry when he noticed your flushed and exhausted face.

“Are you ok?” he leant in ready to check for a fever, before you pulled yourself away slightly. Noticing the small glint of hurt in his eyes you hurriedly tried to rectify your rash reaction.

“No, yes, don’t worry, I just ran up the stairs,” you tapped your feet onto the ground to emphasise your point before your face broke out in a wide smile.

Soobin looked at you, unconvinced you were as ok as you stated. He decided he would trust you and give you the benefit of the doubt. Biting his lip he turned around quickly, his eyes lingering on the fine details of your face a bit too long for his liking. Trying to make himself busy with the papers on his desk, he realised his hands were shaking as he clumsily knocked over the pen holder. With a small yelp he rushed to catch it before it rolled off the desk, his jerky movements only serving to knock your own pen holder off your desk. Wide eyed and embarrassed he huffed, his motions still.

“Are you ok?” you turned to him, your own eyes now shining with worry. “You asked me if I was ok, but you seem to be having a hard time yourself.”

The small upturn of your lips made him pause, and for a moment, a moment too long, he allowed himself to look at you. The more he stared at your features, the more he could feel the small heat rising up from his stomach, travelling up his spine and spilling onto his cheeks. Unwilling to let you witness his state, he quickly turned around clearing his throat. Coming to the conclusion that you may be desk mates for a while, and given his worsening condition, he decided that he should save himself and rip his feelings off like a bandaid.

After all, it doesn’t hurt to try. Despite his efforts to convince himself it was in his best interest, his hands were still shaking, giving you the urge to grab them with your own.

“Hey, you ok? Honestly?” you sounded more and more concerned.

“Hey listen—“ Soobin took a deep breath in, his eyes fixed on where your skin touched him. The warmth in his chest was ready to make him combust if he didn’t get his feelings out.

“Y/N, in my office!” Namjoon’s voice echoed due to the lack of people on the floor. Punctuated by the increase in the speed of the vibrator in your wet cunt, you took a moment to calm yourself. You were lucky there was barely anyone in the office, as your display would’ve probably attracted more attention than you would’ve wished.

“Want me to go tell him you’re not feeling ok?” Soobin’s voice miraculously broke through the fog in your brain. Mistaking your tremors for dread, his eyes were watching you closely, the worry evident in his voice. Shaking your head at him and doing your best impersonation of a composed smile you got up. Your knees were shaky and you had to hold onto the edge of the desk for support before you found your footing. Cursing your boss in your head for playing this game with you was futile. You enjoyed the thrill and handing him this power over you. Otherwise you wouldn’t have done this during the daytime.

“Tell me later what you needed to, ok?” you turned to your bright eyed colleague, your heart pinching at the sight of his doe like eyes. He was young, and he had no place in your lifestyle. Waiting for his acknowledgement, you took slow strides towards Namjoon’s office, entering without knocking.

“The youngster’s got a crush on you,” Namjoon’s voice echoed in your ears. Shrugging in disinterest at his opinion you sharply inhaled when the object inside your pussy vibrated harder for a few seconds before it let up. “Don’t play these games with me Y/N, we know where this will end up,” he stated matter of factly as he approached you with long strides.

You focused on his pristine suit, the light grey shirt contrasting against the dark colour of his blazer. If you squinted hard enough, you could see the traces and lines of your teeth, where they’ve embedded themselves into his pulse the previous night. Knowing he either consciously or subconsciously did a poor job at concealing his affairs, made you hot under your collar, your pussy contracting on its own without the aid of the vibrator lodged inside of you.

“I’m a player Joon,” you smiled sweetly, ignoring the soft exhale he let out at his name. You knew he had a soft spot for being called that, and whereas previously you wouldn’t have dared to approach him in this way—circumstances changed. “It’s what I do.”

Approaching him, you took a moment to observe him. His hair was styled perfectly, not a single trace of your hands having run through it tugging at the strands the night before. His small smirk made the small indent prominent, the area where you knew his dimple was situated, his dark eyebrow quirked in amusement—everything about him screamed poise and poignancy. And you couldn’t have been more attracted, like a moth to a flame.

Whilst you have been occupied with observing him, he’d been just as occupied with deciding whether or not his work was worth enough to restrain himself from punishing you. Your sultry gaze and the way you jutted your hip out, making your boobs more prominent in your silk shirt, made his cock twitch in his pants. Coming to the conclusion that two could play at the game, a dark aura washed over him. Without a warning he pressed the buttons on the remote. The vibrations within your smooth walls cranked up, high enough that if he stopped breathing for a moment he would hear the small distant buzz coming from you.

“Ah, Namjoon.” You almost fell over, the sensation too much for your knees to support your weight. Thanking your stars he took mercy on you before you squirted all over the cream carpet in his office, you quickly straightened up shuddering when you felt the wetness seeping through your stockings.

“Was that necessary?” you grit through your teeth narrowing your eyes at him.

“I just worry,” he shrugged nonchalantly, the quirk at the corner of his lips a mirror of his mockery. He was completely ignoring your plight. You struggled to keep a straight face, throughout this whole ordeal. Namjoon knew you wouldn’t need anyone to worry. After all, you went for who paid higher, and the ‘youngster’ as Joon put it definitely didn’t have the means for that.

“How about I dine you publicly tonight?” he carried on musing, the tone of his voice letting you know it was mostly an excuse for himself more than you. “That may keep him on track. And you, satisfied.”

“You’re the devil Namjoon, don’t play the angel,” you stated as you fought the urge to roll your eyes at the designer brand cufflinks and tie pin that glinted in the light of the setting sun filtering through the office.

“I invited you to dinner,” he smirked slowly, brushing your lips with the pad of his thumb. His eyes held a mischievous glint to them and your heart rate increased. With his head buried in the crook of your neck, he whispered, “nothing angelic about it. Not when you’re the dinner.”

MAIN MASTERLIST

dextrocardia | 01

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, maybe smut down the line but a big MAYBE NOT so don't read if you only want smut or if you're a minor or just don't read smut

word count: 5.3k

warnings (serious):a ton of sexist (police) men (jk included), there will be different kinds of assault in later parts, more specified warnings will come but probably don't read if you have traumas and feel bad reading about stuff like that

warnings (less serious): jk is hawt. tattooed, strong police man who dislikes wearing shirts, also he's mean :(

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 1/? 

<previous | next>

© dextrocardia is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

The station is filled with the familiar scent of coffee and the comforting sound of printers, small talk, and footsteps.

Some mornings, it reminds you more of a typical office than a police station, your own two feet contributing to the sounds as you walk along with the chief, careful to keep your distance from the tall man even when some of the hallways are a tad bit too narrow.

"And since a neighbor just moved out, we've decided that there's an invaluable chance here.”

You hum, feeling the male officers' snarky gazes and eye rolls as you reach the office space where they all sit, their desks organized into landscapes. To say that you’re not very liked in these parts of the station is an understatement.

“What about my current case? The–”

"–It’s on hold for now. We're gonna have to move quickly, so you'll be shipped out in a few days. Move in next door to the Jungs and hopefully solve this thing once and for all. I've already picked out an officer to go with you."

There’s no time for you to ask questions before the chief opens the dark wooden door located at the back of the room and motions for you to enter his personal office first.

You do, but the sight of what’s inside nearly causes you to stop and the chief to bump into you from behind. The sight of who’s inside.

Jeon.

“Are you kidding,” you hear him mutter under his breath, and it’s obviously not because he’s so elated that his detective is you. No, it’s because he despises you.

Disgusted eyes burn holes in the side of your face as you follow the chief's command and sit down next to your colleague from another division.

The tension definitely doesn't go unnoticed, but Jeon Jeongguk isn't an exception; you know that all male officers feel more or less the same way about you. It's the reason that the tension goes unmentioned and why you’d hoped for your usual female detective partner to sit there.

"Where's Jihyo? I assumed we'd work together as usual," you question, ignoring your own annoyance and the immature man next to you, who you know is doing his best to let you know just how much you appall him purely by facial expression. 

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses. Not only has the chief dismissed a really important case that you’ve been trying to get flying for a long time, but you’re supposed to play… spouses? Unfortunately, you know better than to anger the chief more than necessary, so you focus on suffocating the most urgent fire.

"I'm sure that's not needed," you argue calmly, attempting to sound like the more mature one in the room. "One of us could go alone, or I could go with Sana? People are much more accepting of same-sex couples nowadays."

"Of course, you man-hating lesbian."

"Oh, grow up, you fucking child,” you bite in Jeon’s direction before returning your hopeful (and desperate) eyes to the chief. “She and I could be roommates? Cousins?"

"Stop it," the chief warns half a second before you can suggest acquaintances, and it’s easy to see that the slightly above middle-aged man feels like he's talking to two preschoolers. 

"Look, I'm not going to argue about this. We don't send anyone out alone, you know that,” he berates lazily from behind his desk with a pen pointed in your direction.Rumor has it that he’s set to retire in a few months, and you’re sure he’s looking forward to it more than ever at that moment.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You two are newly-weds, moving in basically across from the Jungs. It's a bit of a religious neighborhood, but like, weirdly so, so you'll be a housewife and Jeon a lawyer. It allows you to stay home during the days to get to know the neighbors, and Jeon can say he's taken a week or two off to help settle in."

Your jaw clenches as the details keep coming, and you know, without even looking, that even if he’s just as upset as you are, at least your "professions" are amusing to Jeongguk. He’s probably even smirking.

“What about him then?” you question, nodding toward Jeongguk while keeping eye contact with the chief, “He’s got his whole arm covered in tattoos, won’t that be a problem?”

“No, a lot of the suspects have them too, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, so it’s only a trip back in time for women, got it,” you seethe. It can't get any worse than this.

The chief ignores your comment, "Look, this is what we've deemed the most inconspicuous; a young, married, heterosexual couple. You'll blend right in, and being recently married, it'll give you an excuse to seem a little… distant."

You understand perfectly well what he’s implying, but you can't help but question it. "And what does that mean?"

The chief sighs and lowers his head a little, "It means that you two need to put on your happy faces and act like you're madly in love and like keeping your hands off each other is harder than the donuts Officer Kim brings on Tuesdays. That way, sneaking off together and whispering in each other’s ears, as well as a missed neighborhood barbeque or two, might go unnoticed. Or at least seem… well, inconspicuous."

A scoff sounds from beside you. "I don't get why I have to be the one to go with her? Isn't there another detective to do all that pretend lovey-dovey shit with her?"

Apparently, that's the thing that really upsets Jeongguk, and even though you find him self-centered and immature, it still hurts a little to know that even fake being in love with you is unmentionable.

"No. Like I said, I won't argue. Time is of the essence here; I need a man and a woman that can pass as a couple and work together. You're a great officer, and she's a great detective."

"You sure about that? And what about my safety, then? I don't want to "accidentally" get shot because I'm a man and she feels inferior to me!"

Ah, there it is. The reason you're so insanely disliked. A mission ends with a gunshot wound to the thigh of your former detective partner–now officer and Jeon’s best friend–and suddenly everything’s your fault and everyone’s turned against you. It wasn’t your fault, and it’s not like you ever wanted or planned for it to end that way!

For the first time, you turn your head to really look at the man beside you, your glare powered by years of anger and frustration. His face is flushed, revealing just how irritated this whole ordeal is making him.

In another universe, one in which men don't have personalities, you'd for sure want him. There's no denying the attractiveness that oozes from him, but masculinity is both a blessing and a curse.

He's gorgeous, raven hair parted to expose his just as dark eyebrows and his forehead. He’s got cheekbones and a jaw from another world, and it looks like he's wearing the black pants of his uniform but has foregone the shirt in favor of a dark blue sweatshirt with the police academy's print on it. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his veiny forearms–one of which tattooed– and hands are on display, and it's hot.

He's hot. Intimidating and hot. 

But he's also so… mean. So spoiled and entitled and just such a man. It’s been less than a year, maybe eight months or so, since he transferred from another district, and during those months, you've never spoken more than a few sentences to each other.

Still, you’ve known of him since before he even put his foot in the building, his reputation preceding him. Unfortunately, he's one of the best officers to grace this part of the country in a long time; his accomplishments piling up like golden trophies.

It's harder to measure for a field officer, still, the dude has an unbelievable rate of cleared and successful cases, surprisingly few complaints made against him, and the fitness competitions held every year among the officers are just another opportunity for him to improve his previous impressive record. He could probably bench five times your bodyweight and kick in whichever steel-reinforced door he wants. Everything turns to gold underneath his skilled fingertips, and it makes it all exponentially worse.

Perhaps he deserves some of the praise, but you still stand by the fact that Jeongguk is spoiled and entitled and just such a man. Almost all the males inside this building are. Pumped full of the worst kind of drug, produced by their own body—testosterone—and you're so fucking tired of it. 

Before you can defend yourself, bite back that he needs to shut the fuck up, you're interrupted.

"She's still not allowed to carry,” the chief clarifies calmly. “You've done mostly field, and she's done investigating. You'll work together, combine your strengths and eliminate your weaknesses. Okay?"

"Fine," you huff, "but I'm bringing my dog."

When you leave the room—Jeongguk exiting behind you only to be greeted by another male officer—you hear it.

“You’ll put her in her place, right, Jeon? Put an end to all of this and show her it’s a man’s world she’s living in?”

“Of course,” he replies just as confidently, “I’ll show her.”

And you know you might as well start writing your will.

Three days later, you’re sulking in the passenger seat of a sleek black car, being driven by none other than Jeon Jeongguk himself. It’s not his personal car, and it for sure doesn’t belong to you; yours is still at the repair shop where it’s been for faulty brakes three times in the last six months. 

You wanted to drive, but apparently, your fake new neighbors are so sexist that you can’t be seen stepping out of a car after driving your “husband” around. Because everyone knows driving is a man’s job, right?

Jeongguk has a big suitcase in the backseat. You have two, one containing clothes and whatever you need for your stay and another that holds food and other dog stuff. In the actual trunk, inside a crate–because you value his safety over everything–your Doberman sits.

You don’t know much about the house except that it’s big and mostly empty. The basic furniture has apparently already been moved there yesterday, but the rest of “your” furniture and possessions are scheduled to arrive within the next few days.

Ideally, you’ll manage to solve the case before the moving trucks pull up, sparing you the work of hauling heavy objects inside when you know it’s just for show and that someone’s gonna want them back eventually. If that happens anyway, you’re already contemplating leaving it to Jeongguk since he wants to be the man so badly. He’s obviously not happy about being partnered with you, but it at least brings him joy to see you have it worse. Except for having to be around you, he’s living the dream, getting to be a lawyer and have a housewife to be serviced by.

Among the chief's instructions is a dress code, and so today, Jeongguk is wearing black slacks and a white, crispy button-up shirt while you’re wearing a dark blue off-the-shoulder sundress. Unsurprisingly, you need to look put-together at all times which makes you hate your new fake neighbors even before meeting them. Well, a few of them are suspected to be some of the most successful bank robbers in the country’s history, but besides that.

The thought makes you huff quietly, and even with your gaze out the windshield, you see from the corner of your eye how Jeongguk glances at you. Probably giving you more of a glare, if you’re being honest.

There hasn’t been much going on conversation-wise either. The arguing of who was to drive happened an hour ago, and after that, you’ve laid a few comments on his choice of roads, and he’s answered them with just as much attitude as you’ve muttered them. You see this adventure ending in one or two ways–you and Jeongguk becoming friends isn’t one of them.

At five p.m., you pull up in front of your new house, and at first glance, it’s lovely. The entire neighborhood is. Big, pristine houses painted in white with green, mowed lawns and backyards, and white Picket fences. Your house is no different.

When the engine’s silenced and the key in Jeongguk’s right palm, you start feeling nervous. But you can’t let him know, so you focus on the task at hand. 

Your hands are a little sweaty, and to lessen the tremors, your fingers play with the diamond on your ring finger. It’s fake, but they’re done so well these days that even a professional would have a hard time differentiating. There’s a ring decorating Jeongguk’s finger too, a gold wedding band that you have to admit really suits his brand. 

Another thing he has with him is a gun, something you’re not allowed. But joke’s on anyone who thinks you’d willingly go unarmed. You have razor blades with you, sometimes a blade lies in your bra, protected in a plastic case. Other times, it’s strapped to your thigh. Like now.

As soon as you open the car door and step out with a fake smile on your face, you head to the trunk to get Fenrir. It’s unnerving how you can see your closest neighbors peeking out through their windows already, and you know instantly what kind of neighborhood this is. The brown Doberman jumps out, wagging his undocked tail and stretching after the drive.

“Since people are watching,” you hear Jeongguk from behind you. When you turn around, you almost lose your breath.

As he’s grabbing your bags to carry them inside, he’s wearing a smile that looks so incredibly genuine you’re almost left speechless. But of course, you can tell by his gritted words that he’d gladly let you carry them yourself if there weren’t witnesses. Actually, if no one was around to see, he’d probably just deck you with one of them.

“Fuck you, I can bring them myself,” you mutter through a sweet smile of your own, head tilted slightly.

“Just go inside before anyone can come here and start interrogating us, we still have things to go through.”

“Fine,” you snap, and together with Fenrir, you walk toward the entrance, unlocking it.

Jeongguk isn’t far behind, dumping your bags by the door that he closes behind him before turning to you.

You’ve gone through a few things regarding your disguise, but a lot of details still need to be agreed on.

Jeongguk is Kim Jaehyun and you’re Kim Yeji, high school sweethearts that married just a few months ago. The honeymoon was set in Paris at Jeongguk’s request, making you roll your eyes at the laziness. Jaehyun is just such a romantic.

But only a few minutes after the door is closed, a gentle but firm knock is placed on it. You exchange somewhat panicked looks with Jeongguk before inhaling and exhaling deeply and reaching for the door.

On the other side, dressed in colorful blouses and flowy skirts and with a plastic container each, two women stand.

“Hi,” you start, trying to channel your shy but polite inner housewife.

“Hello! Welcome to the neighborhood!” one exclaims happily, nudging the other subtly with her elbow.

“Yes, hello! Such a surprise to see new neighbors already! I’m Jung Eunha and this is Min Hyeji, we live just across the street. Or at least I do, Hyeji is your next door neighbor!” she nods toward the other woman.

“Oh, uh, nice to meet you,” you greet, hoping that the discomfort behind your smile isn’t visible. “I’m Kim Yeji, and this is my husband Jaehyun.”

Improvising, you turn around hastily and go to… well, touch him somehow, but he’s closer than you expected and so your hand bumps into his shoulder, and you just… keep it there somewhat awkwardly before slowly dropping it.

“Nice to meet you,” Jeongguk starts, his focus laying beyond you. “Yeah, we’ve been looking for a new home for a while, and when we saw this, we just fell in love immediately. Such potential and with a really nice neighborhood.”

“Yes,” Hyeji smiles proudly, “Perfect for when you get little ones!”

You feel yourself hurling on the inside, disgusted by the thought of having kids with someone as vile as Jeongguk, but he manages to keep his cool even though you assume he’s taken by surprise as well. How can they already know that you don’t have children? Unless they really supervised your entire arrival?

“Yeah, we’re not really there yet, but I agree; it’ll be perfect for our future kids, right, honey?”

He looks down at you. They all look at you.

Honey.

“Oh, yeah, absolutely!” you smile, trying to blink away the image of your archnemesis gazing at you so fondly. You would’ve never guessed it, but when they’re not overflowing with murderous disgust, Jeon Jeongguk has the prettiest brown eyes. Soft, brown eyes.

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you, but we gotta run. Here are some cookies,” Eunha excuses, taking a step closer to push her container in your hands. Hyeji follows, stacking hers on top. “We’ll see you around soon!”

And then, they’re gone, and the door’s closed.

You remain silent for a moment, just to make sure no one’s lingering and hearing stuff they’re not supposed to.

“Dude, what was that?” Jeongguk asks, and when you meet his eyes this time, the softness is gone, traded back for that familiar hatred.

“What?” you question with an irritated whisper, still paranoid the women might stand with their ears pressed against the door.

“I thought you were supposed to be a good actress?! Yet you touched me like I was your new colleague? ‘H-hi, I’m K-kim Y-yeji and th-this is m-my husband J-Jaehyun.’”

“Shut the fuck up,” you grit, walking away to place the containers on the kitchen counter.

“Maybe you don’t understand, I wouldn’t expect you to, but we need them to believe us. Either you touch me like you love me or you don’t touch me at all.”

After a few more digs at each other, you split up. Jeongguk disappears somewhere further into the house while you unpack Fenrir’s bowls, the gifted containers left on the counter. The big dog follows you closely to the kitchen sink, propping his snout in between you and the counter and hoping you’ll fill his bowl with something tasty.

“No food now,” you explain, setting the water-filled bowl down in an appropriate spot in the kitchen. “There you go, you must be thirsty.”

Although surely disappointed, Fenrir sniffs at the bowl before lapping at the water. You take a step back, watching him with a crease of worry between your eyebrows.

This whole arrangement has you incredibly nervous. You’re used to spying on people and such, but it’s usually just... observing. Many times, you’re seated inside a car with binoculars, or you’re tailing someone through the mall. Rarely, you even have to talk to the suspects, and now? You’re living next door to them, trying to get to know them.

You don’t even know what’s worse; living in the house next to your enemy, or living with your enemy. For all you know, Jeongguk might suffocate you in your sleep with a pillow over your face before the armed robbers even get the chance at taking you out.

“You’re the only man I can trust,” you coo, scratching Fenrir behind his ear when he approaches, a few leftover water drops making it onto your dress.

But with a sigh, you accept the fact that you’re stranded in the house for the coming days, and so you might as well follow your partner’s lead and look around.

It’s a nice house, you conclude. Not the very biggest, but still spacious enough. On the ground floor, there’s the kitchen, a dining area, and living room, all equipped with the basic necessities.

The dining area has a large dining table and eight chairs surrounding it, and the living room harbors a huge, gray couch and a very nice wooden coffee table. A wooly blanket hangs over one of the armrests, and a huge tv is mounted on the wall opposite the couch. 

What you don’t necessarily like is the fact that it’s... open. There aren’t really any separating walls except for around the kitchen, which means that if you need to hide from someone, you can’t. Well, maybe you can lock yourself in the bathroom, and hopefully, the bedrooms also have doors with locks.

The stairs creak a little under your feet, and you definitely take notice of it as you climb them to check out what’s upstairs.

To your surprise, the first thing you see is Jeongguk’s back. Confusion sets in as you watch him. He’s looking inside one of the two bedrooms, frozen with his hand on the handle.

You approach carefully, not sure you want to one; be so close to him, and two; know what’s gotten him so... confused? Confounded? Surprised?

Maintaining as much distance as possible, you peek inside. But it’s just a room? You can’t see the entirety of it since you’re not about to squeeze yourself through the doorway with Jeongguk still in it, but it looks… normal? Nice, actually.

There’s a queen-sized bed placed against the cream colored wall, drowned in beige linen bedding with an oak nightstand on each side. On the opposite side, to your left, there are doors leading to a built-in closet, an oak dresser, and a gray, empty plant pot, standing in the corner.

“You... like this one, or…?” you turn your head to glance toward the other door, leading to the other, unexplored, bedroom. 

You don’t want to let him choose before you’ve seen both because you know he’d rather die than give you the better one without a fight, and you’re not about to sleep in a bed covered in rat shit or something.

But before you can even walk toward that other door, Jeongguk opens his mouth.

“Yeah, well I have to, since this is the only room with a bed.”

At his surprisingly casual words, your heart drops. No. That can’t be true. Your steps are quick, and when you glide the door open, you curse to yourself. The room is empty, completely barren.

With your hand still on the handle, you turn your head toward Jeongguk, horrified. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

“And you think I’d wanna fuck that?” he snaps, eyeing your body with disgust. 

You hate him, you really fucking hate him, and you wish his words didn’t mean anything to you, but they do. The dress you’re wearing makes you uncomfortable, it makes you feel vulnerable under his gaze, and you wish you were allowed to wear your own comfortable clothes and not the ones given to you.

It’s beautiful, it really is, but you loathe that it leaves your shoulders, arms, and lower legs exposed. You hate that you’re supposed to be pretty for your ‘husband’ and even other men, and you hate that they always have to look, that they have to judge. Your value as a woman lies in the way you look, you learned that at a young age just like everyone else, and you hate it. You just don’t wanna be perceived.

Despite already being well aware that the number of men willing to date you would be close to zero—if you’d even want to date, that is—you feel like he’s stabbed you right through the heart.

It especially hurts because he’s so goddamn beautiful, so of course, you respond with the usual anger. “I didn’t mean it like that, you fucking idiot, but yeah, the feeling’s mutual.”

Briefly, you see how Jeongguk rolls his eyes before he lets go of the door and steps back. “So what do we do? I’m not sleeping next to you; I heard you carry a knife wherever you go.”

Well, it’s not technically a knife, but he might as well continue believing that. “Yeah, well there are men everywhere I go? And don’t tell me you’re stupid enough to believe I’d come here unarmed?” you question. How many brain cells does he have? One? “And there’s a couch, so I suggest one of us just takes that.”

You glare at each other. He knows, just as well as you do, that no one is going to volunteer. “Fine. We’ll take turns.”

Sleeping on a couch isn’t necessarily the worst thing that could happen, you just don’t want to sleep out in the living room and feel so exposed and vulnerable. But you’re also tired, fighting with Jeongguk has taken so much of your energy already, and by the looks of it—of him—he’s not gonna give in very easily.

You sigh and roll your eyes, “Fine, you can take the first night.”

He smirks victoriously, immediately going downstairs to retrieve his suitcase to unpack his clothes. Since a neighbor could visit literally any second, you need to be able to keep the act up inside the house as well, and so, as soon as Jeongguk is finished unpacking his clothes, you bring yours. And you hate seeing them hang next to his in the closet, just like you hate him.

Just a few hours after your arrival, there are more knocks on your front door. You’re upstairs when you hear it, descending the stairs to see Jeongguk at the door, talking to one of the women from earlier with a small bouquet in his hand. Eunha.

“We’d love it if—oh, hello again!” she greets when you come to stand next to him. “I was just telling your husband about the barbeque we’re throwing on Saturday! You’re more than welcome to join us if you want. Get to know your neighbors and all that,” she smiles excitedly.

“Well, we can’t pass up an opportunity like that,” Jeongguk chuckles, “Right, honey?”

You’ll never get used to it. The way he looks down at you so fondly, with warm brown eyes and a sweet smile. It both melts your heart and sends an ice cold shiver down your spine.

“Yeah, no, of course,” you smile, looking forward as you try to ignore Jeongguk wrapping his arm around your waist.

Meanwhile Eunha just watches the two of you with heart eyes, smiling when you meet her gaze. “We’ll bring meat of some kind, some... chicken? Maybe?”

“Great idea, and some beer,” Jeongguk adds, finally tearing his eyes from the side of your face. You breathe out. He’s just so intimidating, no less when he’s as close as he is, his disguised scrutinizing gaze on your face and his warm hand on your waist.

“Great, see you then!” she nods, taking a few steps back.

“See you, and thanks again for the flowers,” Jeongguk grins before closing the door and thrusting the bouquet in your hands.

“Excuse me?”

“Be of use and trim the stems and put them in water.”

“There are few people ruder than you, Jeon Jeongguk,” you hiss quietly. “Very few people I hate more.”

“It’s not as if you’re very liked, so go ahead,” he scoffs.

Asshole, you think, but still move toward the kitchen with the flowers in hand. They’re actually very pretty, and you turn the bouquet around to admire them. You’re not very familiar with the different sorts of flowers, and the only kind you can identify are daisies. They’re  blended together with other kinds in a variety of colors and sizes. There are light yellow ones, pink ones, and a few tall, blue ones. You especially like those blue ones.

Trim the stems and put them in water, Jeongguk said. You open a drawer in search of some scissors and find a pair that looks like they could get the job done.

Then you start cutting. It’s harder than you thought; the stems are much thicker and the scissors aren’t sharp enough.

What you don’t notice is Jeongguk, standing behind you and peering down over your shoulder.

“Oh my God, step aside,” he exclaims in annoyance, making you jump. Before you know it, he’s grabbed a knife from a drawer and pushed you to the side. “Have you never gotten flowers or what?”

You back away, scissors lowered uselessly. “Shut the fuck up, you idiot.”

“So, you haven’t?” he taunts, “I don’t know why I’m surprised, flowers are for pretty girls after all.”

Lips pressed together in frustration and humiliation, you watch his back as he finishes the job, clearly happy with his remarks.

You hate it so much, how there’s nothing for you to retort with. Jeon Jeongguk is gorgeous, he’s smart, and he’s talented. He learns a new skill in the blink of an eye, and can get anyone to like him. And the worst part is that he’s very aware of it. He knows he’s unmatched, and there’s nothing you can say that would hurt him.

“I hope you get kicked so hard in the balls that they rupture.”

Jeongguk winces slightly at your words, not long before he rummages through another cupboard and produces a glass vase to store the flowers in. “Rough,” he comments, and you roll your eyes.

“By the way, you know that dress looks horrible on you? You don’t have the tits for it.”

You swallow, feeling your heart break further and your confidence that’s already ninety percent anger, crumble. You feel even uglier around him than usual, humiliated to have to be perceived.

More than anything, you wish that you could just rip your clothes out of that closet, stuff them into your suitcase, take Fenrir, and go the fuck home, but you can’t. You know you’re one misstep away from being fired, and you wouldn’t exactly get the best of recommendation letters with as much shit as you’ve accidentally stirred up. Not that it was your fault. Still, no one in your field is going to hire you, so it’s better to stay, even if that means Jeon Jeongguk will be the death of you.

“We need to plan,” you mutter, subconsciously folding your arms over your chest to hide yourself. “The barbeque is in two days.”

Jeongguk carries the vase to the dining table and sets it down in the middle before turning to you. You make sure to maintain enough distance and focus your eyes on his face and not the way he’s leaning back against the table–his weight supported by his arms–or the way his shirt strains over his chest. Ridiculous how he can be so pretty but so vile.

At least you’re relieved that he seemingly turns his professional mode on as he bites his lip, thinking.

“Well, we know the ultimate goal is to—”

“—Get inside the Jungs’ house.”

“Yes,” Jeongguk agrees. “We need to figure out a way to get inside the house so we can bug it. That’s gonna be the best chance, and hopefully, we’ll get some kind of confession. Maybe they’ll even lead us to the money.”

It takes you ten minutes to plan for the next two days. It’s a bit rough, mostly open to let you see what happens and adjust accordingly, but it’s a good start.

In forty-eight hours, give or take, you’ll show up at the Jungs’ house for the barbeque. You have a feeling Jung Eunha isn’t that involved in her husband’s criminal adventures, but she could be sitting on valuable information. If not about the heists or money, then at least on how to get inside their house. 

So, your focus lies on her and the other wives, while Jeongguk will try to get close to the men, and thus, Jung Hoseok, himself.

You pack away the blue dress.

<previous | next>

author's note: so that's the first part, please tell me what you thought, i decided not to do tag lists for this series <3<3

the wannabe-photographer chronicles (masterlist) | kth

You’re so tired of Kim Taehyung’s hipster, wannabe-photographer ass. You’re so tired of Kim Taehyung’s stupid smile and stupid jokes and stupid way of getting under your skin and sticking in your brain.

» pairing: taehyung x reader

» genre: BTS | 18+ | frenemies to lovers | smut | lil bit of fluff

» word count: ~14k

» warnings: explicit smut | tae is Annoying but Hot | each chapter has individual warnings

» notes: am i stupid? yes! yes i am! i'm an idiot. pls enjoy what has unintentionally turned into a 3-part mini-series of idiocracy. i mostly made this post to free up space on my main masterlist, so i can just link everything to one post. dedicated to @taehyungcentral & @norushtolive 💜

» masterlist | ao3 | join my taglist

Part 1 - Wanna Fuck On Camera

↳ 3.3k | July 5, 2022

Part 2 - Wanna Make A Movie

↳ 3.7k | September 29, 2022

Part 3 - Wanna Watch A Sex Tape (ft. jimin)

↳ 6.9k | August 13, 2023

Part 4 - Wanna Stream A Porno

↳ FEBRUARY 2024

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do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

you suck! | ksj

(or, the one where everything goes very wrong but a lot more goes very right.)

→ pairing: vampire!seokjin x f. reader → genre: supernatural; strangers to lovers; roommates; crack, fluff → rating: explicit. minors dni. → warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex work, taekook are also chaotic vampires, a lot of twilight references for someone who has never seen or read it, completely made up and non-canonical vampire lore, a teeny-tiny bit of angst, jin’s forehead has powers or something, jin takes dick pics on a polaroid (canon), one very purposely awkward smut scene that includes: slight praise kink, unprotected sex, oral, kissing. overall this is very soft and they are just two idiots very in love, your honor. → wordcount: 18.3k → a/n: i started this almost exactly a year ago after buying this print from @yelhsaart​ and becoming completely obsessed with it. i just wanted to write jin as a goofy, idiot (affectionate) vampire. as i said in the warnings, the vampire lore is completely made up here. some of it is canon, some of it is inspired by the wayhaven chronicles, some of it is just plot device. don’t take it too seriously. → thank yous: lauren, for once again being my beta and telling me when my brain writes sentences that don’t make sense. jess, for being born today — happy birthday, this is my lame and completely self-serving gift to you. bee, for always encouraging my chaos.

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