#(THIS ASK HAS MY CACKLINGGGGGGG)

[tulpar-anya]

Anya I need to Know.

Are the captain and his co-pilot Fucking Hardcore Sloppy Style

...This is definitely a question.

I don't know? Probably not? Christ, I hope not. Curly doesn't deserve that...Wait, why do you think I'd have that information!?

It's really not my business either way. You can ask them yourself, if you want. I don't recommend it, though T_T

[daechwitatamicrecs]

I'M VERY UPSET WITH YOU FOR HOW THIS ONE ENDED ok bye

Those fucking hands haunted you all weekend. – mood

“Can I help you?” You ask.

“I hope so.”

WOOF WOOF BARK BARK

Good GOD just him flirting with her for fun has be like rolling on the ground clutching my heart wtffffffffffffffffff

(I also love that like… I feel like I’m picking up a little layer where he actual does trust her to handle shit correctly and it feels kind of like it should be a big deal that he does)

wondering what the moment must have felt like from his point of view. What he could have been thinking about – listen, listen. He saw you in club gear and had so many feelings he had to masturbate about it. It’s not complicated.

His arms are on either side of your chair, right hand on the mouse while his left leans against the desk, effectively boxing you in. – O.O fklenfgkjewngjwnegkjewngjknejkwfnekjfn hotttttttttttttttttttt goodbye I need to take a WALK

“I appreciate the—” he pauses, as if looking for the right words, and he doesn’t even try to hide his smirk when he finds them. “—helping hand.” – laughing out loud again I LOVE HIM I love him I love him I love him fanskjfajkfhjkaghjkqghj

“Is there a reason you put so much crap in your coffee?” iowfwhfkjawhjfkhekjgnqwkjfj I LOVE HIM SO MUCH IUAHSDKJAH THE SASSS

“I’m sorry, is there something you’d rather I put in my mouth instead?”

Yoongi has clearly chosen the wrong moment to take a swig of his drink, because he immediately chokes on it at your words.  – JIFOAWUGHAUGH I AM CACKLINGGGGGGG YESSSSSSSS GET HIM BACKKKK ITS ABOUT TIMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

now you’re certain his eyes trail up and down your body, because he takes his fucking time with it. – cackle cackle cackle

lmaoooooooooooo not miss girl basically doing the bend and snap hahahahahaha

Against your better judgment, you lock eyes with Yoongi for a split second, and there’s clearly a shared emotion happening. – okay but this was EXQUISITE. They’re both like noooope toed too close to the line, need a minute! Gotta get back into sanity land! But neither of them can admit so in front of poor oblivious jk. Perfection.

“I’m coming in,” you announce as loudly as you can. “Put your dick away.” – okay I forgive her for being such a damn moron for a while, I love her now :) just for this :)

“I want to bend you over my desk right where you are.” – nooooooooooooooooooooooope I’m out goodbye good night It’s been fun

M I BELIEVE YOU MISSPOKE??? WHEN YOU SAID??? YOULL PRAY FOR ME FOR CHAPTER FIVE??? WHEN YOU KNEW THAT CHAPTER 4 WAS COMING????? Good fucking god oh my lord I need to go stick my head in the freezer for a minute holy shit AND NO ONE HAS EVEN TOUCHED YET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO M NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO USSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS ILJNFegwnojGEWNJsnjVENJVdvsiulefwioGHUSVHUAGRwjonsdNU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

look down on me like that - 4 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut (w some eventual angst)

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: 8.2k (lowkey gagged that this is exactly the same length as the last chapter o__o)

contains: ~explicit sexual content~ !! masturbation, use of a vibrator, teasing, plenty of fantasizing, dirty talk that made me **BLUSH** while writing it, and literally everyone is horny lmao. lil bit of alcohol mention as well,, also no jimin in this chapter sorry babes (we miss u jimin, i promise he'll be back for the next one)

A/N: thank you all so much for your patience and for being so fucking lovely to me all the time, i don't deserve it. and don't you dare flame me for the ending I TOLD Y'ALL IT WAS A SLOW MF BURN 😤😤

read on AO3!

chapter three | masterlist | chapter five

~*~

Your alarm on Monday morning comes far too soon. It doesn’t help that you lost the entirety of the weekend to wallowing in bed— Saturday to an actual hangover and Sunday to an emotional one. Despite only crawling out of your pit of despair to eat and use the bathroom, you aren’t even well-rested; sleep was hard to come by when you couldn’t so much as close your eyes without watching it all play back again.

Your drunk ass stumbling into the Genius Lab. Yoongi jerking himself off, his long fingers gripped firmly around the length of his cock, then opening his eyes to find you watching. And of course, the absolutely ruined pair of Jordans he had to throw in the dumpster behind the building, while you stood there shivering in your stupid fucking club dress and watched him, trying not to cry.

You don’t even have it in you to find that part funny, which makes you that much more upset. You should be able to enjoy the destruction of his property, but you can’t. The whole thing is just too humiliating.

It takes all the strength you have to ignore the little voice in your head that tells you to email in your resignation letter and stay in bed until the earth swallows you up. Somehow you manage to drag yourself through your morning routine and make it to your godforsaken 6 AM boxing class. With what feels like no rage left in your system to power you through, the class is hard, and your movements are uncoordinated and sluggish.

Jungkook apparently holds his tongue for as long as he possibly can, until you step into the elevator to head up to the company floor. The minute the doors shut and it’s only the two of you, you slump against the wall, letting your eyes drop closed. You could literally fall asleep standing up right here, you think.

“You seem tired,” Jungkook says, and when you don’t say anything, you hear him laugh a little under his breath. “And you were actually hitting at 50% strength today. My hands don’t even hurt. Everything okay?”

You grunt softly, your eyes fluttering open. “No. I am tired.”

The elevator dings, signaling your floor, and he hums softly, then continues. “You know, they also have classes at times that aren’t 6 AM. I don’t mind going after work instead.”

“That would be nice.” You glance over at him to see he’s chewing on the corner of his lip, almost like he’s nervous.

“Can I give you my number?” He asks. “That way you can just text me if you ever want to do another time. It’s not a big deal.”

“Sure, Jungkook. I appreciate it.” The elevator doors slide open and you follow him out, reaching into your bag for your phone. You retrieve it as he recites off the numbers, and you quickly copy them down. “Just so you know, I am absolutely saving you as Baby Star Candy.”

He laughs shyly, like he’s embarrassed by the nickname, and you can’t help but glance up to smile at him.

Exhausted and slow on the uptake as you are, you’re completely unaware of your surroundings until you hear the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat.

When you turn to see Yoongi leaning up against the glass front doors of the office, you consider launching yourself through the nearest window. Particularly because this is Yoongi as you’ve never seen him before. Gone is the exhausted-looking workaholic in sweats and oversized t-shirts that you’re used to being menaced by.

In his place, standing in front of you, is this Yoongi: neatly styled hair, skin that’s practically glowing, and worst of all: in a perfectly-fitted, all-black suit. Taking him in sends a bolt of shame and desire straight to your core, and you grit your teeth, working hard to keep a neutral expression. Although you don’t know why you bother— you’re sure he already knows what you’re thinking. Fucking mind reader.

You snap out of your stupor long enough to realize Jungkook’s contact is still open on your phone, and you hurry to save it.

“Seriously, text me any time,” Jungkook adds softly, because of course he’s oblivious to whatever the fuck is happening to you right now.

Yoongi’s eyebrows raise slightly, and you watch his eyes jump back and forth between the two of you and then to your phone in your hand, clearly processing the exchange he just witnessed. He’s fighting to hide a smirk, but you can see it toying at the corners of his lips as he makes a little noise of surprise.

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you wonder what sort of assumptions he might be making about your friendship with Jungkook.

Jungkook speaks again before Yoongi can make whatever snide comment he was mentally workshopping. “Good morning, Min Suga. Do you… have a presentation today?” He gestures vaguely to Yoongi’s, well, everything.

Yoongi looks down in mock surprise, as if he’s just noticed that he’s in something that isn’t a hoodie. Your stomach flips as he preens a little, extending an arm to pick an imaginary piece of lint from the sleeve of his suit jacket. Even in the bleak office lighting, your eyes are instantly drawn to the thick veins that run along the backs of his hands and his delicate fingers, adorned with several silver rings today. Those fucking hands haunted you all weekend.

Desperate for a distraction, you busy yourself with digging in your purse for the office keys.

“It’s funny you should ask, JK.”

You’re not fast enough to suppress the face you reflexively make. JK? Since when are the two of them on nickname terms? You sneak a glance at Jungkook but he gives no discernible reaction.

“I guess we can blame our lovely admin,” Yoongi continues, and you lose your train of thought entirely. That one compliment alone—if it can even be called that—is like ice in your veins, enough to send a shiver straight up the back of your neck. God, what is this man doing to you? “She really packed my calendar for today. I figured I should look nice for the reporters.”

Your hand finally closes around the set of keys at the very bottom of your bag, and you will yourself not to take Yoongi’s bait. Saying nothing, you move past him and Jungkook to unlock the front door.

They both trail in after you, and you’re distantly aware of Jungkook congratulating Yoongi on the nomination and asking how it feels as you set your things on your desk and circle around to take a seat. You’re hoping they’ll wander off down the hallway together, but Yoongi makes no move to leave, so Jungkook stays, too.

Doing your best to telegraph your desire to be left alone, you open your laptop and attempt to feign work.

Their casual small talk eventually trails off, and when you look away from your screen after a beat of silence, they’re both looking back at you. Jungkook’s brows are slightly furrowed in worry, or maybe just confusion, and when you dare to glance at Yoongi, his expression is so intense that you immediately drop your gaze again.

“Sorry, JK. Can I have her for a minute?”

Even though you’re not looking at him, you can hear the fucking smirk in Yoongi’s voice, and it takes everything in you not to crawl under your desk.

Instead you glance up at Jungkook, who’s still looking at you. He just barely raises his eyebrows, as if to ask the silent question of whether you want to be left alone with Yoongi or not. You wish you knew the answer. It would certainly make your life a lot easier.

Even so, something about the now-obvious concern on his face is enough to snap you out of your pity party. You refuse to be utterly helpless. It’s not like you’ve never been attracted to someone before, and just because you are, it doesn’t mean Yoongi gets to hold it over your head. You’re strong, dammit, and certainly stubborn— perhaps to a fault. But in this situation, it works to your advantage.

You give Jungkook a nearly imperceptible nod, trying to communicate with your eyes that you’re fine, that he doesn’t need to worry. You can handle Min Yoongi.

Jungkook raps his knuckles softly against your desk in response. “Sure thing. Have a good day.”

You force yourself to inhale slowly as he disappears down the hallway, and you mentally stomp on the wave of panic that surges in your chest. You can do this, you remind yourself as you level your gaze on Yoongi, hoping your face betrays no emotion.

“Can I help you?” You ask.

“I hope so.” He leans forward, long hair skimming over his eyes as he braces his forearms against your desk. You instinctively scoot your chair backwards to put a little more space between the two of you, and you can tell he’s doing this on purpose, trying to get you flustered.

You tell yourself that it isn’t working.

“I need a favor,” Yoongi starts, and he pauses just long enough for your mind to wander to places it shouldn’t. He runs his tongue along his back teeth, and you can’t help but suspect that he’s thinking the same thing. You pray that at his current vantage point he can’t see your thighs squeeze together under your desk.

“You see, I’m pretty behind on registering copyright for my last… dozen tracks or so. I figured I’d get it done today, but someone clearly had other plans for me. Think that’s something you can handle?” He tilts his head slightly to one side as he asks the question.

To prove that you’re not scared of him—though you’re not sure which of you you’re trying to prove it to—you force yourself to maintain eye contact. The open, albeit still mildly self-satisfied look on his face is so different from the bored, annoyed expression you’re used to. Not to mention the fact that he’s genuinely asking you for help without taking a single dig at your lack of professional experience. Your head hurts from the whiplash of it all.

He runs a hand through his dark hair, sweeping it back to expose his forehead, and you realize you need to say whatever words will get him away from you as fast as possible. Especially while he’s in that suit.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll take care of it.”

Yoongi blinks, making a face like he’s a little surprised he got his way so easily, then pushes himself off your desk. “Great. I’ll be in conference rooms all day, so...” He trails off, a glint in his eyes. “You can let yourself into the lab whenever. Since you know the code.”

You swallow hard, unable to come up with a good response. Yoongi pauses for a second, as if he might say something else, but he seems to decide against it. Instead, he turns and heads off down the hallway without another word.

You’ve never been so thankful to distract yourself with work.

Yoongi’s request hangs over your head for the rest of the day, and you put it off for as long as you possibly can. It’s only once you’ve answered every email in your inbox and followed up on all of your outstanding requests that you finally relent. You quite literally have nothing else to do, so you groan inwardly and drag yourself down the hall to the Genius Lab.

You realize your hands are shaking as you punch in the code and turn the handle. It’s impossible to keep the memories at bay as you enter the room and let the door shut behind you. Just do your job, you tell yourself, and you cross to Yoongi’s desk and take a seat.

When you glance down, you see he’s left you a Post-It with specific details on the tracks and all the information required to file the copyright registrations. Gently, you jiggle the mouse to wake his computer and begin to work. As much as you want to knock this task out quickly so you don’t have to spend a single extra second in his damn lab, it’s hard to focus; you find your eyes continually drifting away from the computer screen to sweep over the room.

Yoongi was sitting in this very chair that night— which was somehow only a few days ago. And he made it sound like that wasn’t the first time he’d gotten off at work.

It really shouldn’t be an attractive premise. If anything, it should probably be a complaint to HR. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop the little twinges running straight to your core, the heat that pools gently in your belly at the thought. Especially not when you remember his soft groans and the way the tip of his cock glistened with his arousal.

Rolling your shoulders in a small stretch, you lean against his chair experimentally, letting your head tip back the way his did, wondering what the moment must have felt like from his point of view. What he could have been thinking about. You allow your legs to drop open slightly, moving your ass in a slow circle against the chair to just barely mitigate some of the ache between your legs.

It occurs to you at this moment that you are insanely fucking turned on, and then you hear the door handle turn.

Shit. Your legs immediately snap shut and you sit up as fast as you can, trying to remember where you’d left off with the task as the door is pushed open.

“Well, I never want to speak to another human again,” Yoongi grunts from behind you, sounding much more like himself, his voice a little hoarse. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of turning around.

“I’m almost done if you want to take over and finish.” You say softly, immediately mentally kicking yourself for choosing that word. Did he finish? You grit your teeth as the thought enters your mind before you can stop it. You do not need to be asking yourself this question right now. Or ever.

“Let’s see.” 

Yoongi’s voice is suddenly much closer to you than it was a moment ago, and you regret not standing up when you had the chance. You freeze where you are in his desk chair, spine ramrod straight, unsure of what to do.

And then he hums a sigh right in your ear, and it’s enough to make your cunt throb.

Your thighs quiver with how hard you press them together, as if that somehow might undo the growing wetness between your legs. The feeling of his breath on your neck is only making it that much worse.

You sneak a glance up at Yoongi and realize he isn’t looking at you at all, but intently studying your work on his desktop screen. His arms are on either side of your chair, right hand on the mouse while his left leans against the desk, effectively boxing you in.

Unable to do anything but focus on how very close he is to you, you lose all pretense and stare openly at his side profile. You watch as a muscle in his jaw works while he contemplates the screen, and you’re forced to swallow hard as a whole new kind of realization floods through you.

Despite the fact that he is very much still your asshole life-ruiner coworker Min Yoongi, the facts are indisputable: you want him. Badly, it turns out. And you desperately wish you didn’t.

“Looks good. I can do the rest.” Yoongi’s voice snaps you back to reality, but you aren’t fast enough to avert your gaze before he glances over and catches you staring at him. You see a flash of something in his dark eyes.

“Everything okay?”

At this, you finally tear your gaze away, staring down dumbly at his keyboard instead. “I’m fine,” you say plainly, not bothering to elaborate. If recent events are any indicator, he can already read every inch of what you’re feeling on your face. No point in trying to hide it.

He removes his hand from the mouse and you seize the opportunity, immediately turning the desk chair away from him to stand up. The lab is starting to feel increasingly claustrophobic with the two of you alone in here together.

You head straight for the door, saying nothing, and your hand has just closed around the handle when he stops you dead in your tracks with a single word.

“Thanks.”

You have no choice but to instantly whip around, you’re that shocked by the praise. 

Yoongi is leaned up against the edge of his desk, arms crossed over his chest, surveying you. “I appreciate the—” he pauses, as if looking for the right words, and he doesn’t even try to hide his smirk when he finds them. “—helping hand.”

You stare blankly back at him, having no idea what to make of any of this.

“I promise I’ll be out on time tonight,” he offers.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice barely a whisper, and then you finally turn the knob and shut the door behind you.

Yoongi keeps his word, slipping silently out of the office right before 6:00; your mind is still reeling for the entirety of your bus ride home. When you make it in the front door of your apartment, you let your purse drop to the floor and kick off your shoes, then head immediately for the fridge.

Bottle of rosé and wine glass in hand, you collapse onto the couch and instinctively retrieve your phone. It’s only once you have your text thread with Jimin open that you reconsider. You know he has intensive choreo rehearsals all week, but even if he didn’t, the thought of how he’d squeal at this plot twist to your TV show life is more than you can handle right now.

But he’s your best friend. You’ve never kept anything from him.

You sigh and chuck your phone to the other end of the couch, making a silent promise to tell him soon. Very soon. Just not tonight.

You’re restless, unable to get comfortable or make it through more than five minutes of anything you try to watch. You find yourself desperately wishing you could get all this energy out of your system. A glass of rosé doesn’t help, neither does the second, nor the rest of the bottle. Not even your skin care routine manages to relax you, which certainly constitutes an emergency.

As you crawl into bed, head swimming slightly from the wine, you find yourself instinctively reaching into your nightstand. This should do the trick, you think as you slide the drawer open and retrieve your small pink bullet vibrator. You tilt your hips up and shimmy the thin shorts you wore to bed down your thighs, allowing yourself full access.

Relaxing back against the pillows, you let your eyes drop closed as you search your brain for the proper fantasy. You decide on your current go-to: Kang Taemu in one of his perfectly fitted suits. 

You’ve been on edge for hours to say the least, so it doesn’t surprise you how easily the tip of the toy slips through your folds— you’re drenched, and probably have been all day.

Letting out a soft sigh, you click the base of the vibrator to turn it on, and the feeling of finally being stimulated after wanting it so badly is enough to make you whine a little.

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you do your best to keep that fantasy in your mind’s eye. But it’s proving elusive, for some reason. You keep losing your grip on Ahn Hyoseop’s puppy face. His eyes slowly change from round and endearing to mysterious and calculating. It’s enough to make your own eyes snap open as you realize where your mind is going.

You turn your vibrator off and give yourself a few seconds, shifting your legs in an attempt to send some relief to your tightly wound core. It really should not be this hard to masturbate.

Determined, you bring the bullet to your clit again and press the button, then immediately press it again to increase the speed. Your eyes roll back in your head as you grind your hips down into the mattress because fuck, it feels so good.

When you revisit the fantasy, you have to bite back the urge to groan in frustration as Hyoseop’s plush, pouty lips morph into a smug, all-too-familiar smirk. This is not fucking happening.

You turn the vibrator off once more and fully sit up, aggressively shaking your head as if to fling the thoughts out of your brain.

Note to self, you think bitterly. Stop watching workplace dramas until you’re done with your own.

Leaning back against the headboard, you decide to throw out the fantasy. You’ve stopped and started enough at this point that you’re desperate; you don’t need a full plot. Spreading your legs with a soft whimper, you press the toy into you and turn it on, cranking it up to the highest setting.

You continue to make little noises of pleasure as images flash through your mind, sending you closer and closer to that edge. A wet pink tongue darting between full lips. Dark eyes blown black with lust. Strong forearms surrounding you, the jerk of an Adam’s apple, long delicate fingers, and a pale, perfect cock sinking into your dripping heat.

Your head tilts back as your arousal coils tightly inside you and your orgasm finally, finally crests. As the wave surges and you get lost in the overwhelming pleasure, you let yourself really moan.

“Fuuuuck, Yoongi.”

Relief crashes over you, your hips rolling up as your walls flutter, until you finally ride out the aftershocks and the vibrations become overwhelming. You turn the bullet off and sigh contentedly, feeling thoroughly spent.

It takes about three seconds for your brain to catch up enough to process what just happened. When it does, you make a squeak of sheer panic and fling your vibrator across the room.

You sit all the way up and look around frantically, convinced for a brief moment that he might somehow be in your bedroom. It makes no sense, but you’re sure that somehow Yoongi knows what you’ve done. What you said. No matter where you go, it feels like you can’t escape him. Not even while masturbating, apparently.

Collapsing back into the bed, you shove a pillow over your face and scream into it.

When you finally relent and toss it away, you dejectedly reach for your phone, pulling your shorts up with your other hand. Your heart sinks when you see it’s already well past midnight.

Worrying the inside of your cheek with your teeth, you pull up Baby Star Candy in your phone and shoot a quick text asking if you can do a class after work instead. Jungkook doesn’t respond— he’s probably sleeping like a perfect baby angel, but you feel less bad as you adjust your alarm back by an hour, trying to give yourself a fighting chance at being even slightly rested in the morning.

The post-orgasm exhaustion starts to descend, despite the shame still swirling in your chest about the mental image that got you there. Confused, pissed off, and still unfortunately horny, you turn over in bed and wrap your arms around your pillow, allowing sleep to overtake you.

~*~

Jungkook is there to greet you with a big grin and a tiny wave as you step off the elevator the next morning. He seems wholly unbothered by the deviation from your typical routine.

“Did you manage to get some sleep?” He asks as you unlock the front doors.

“I did.” It’s not a lie. You slept more soundly than you have in quite some time; you just wish you didn’t have to masturbate to thoughts of your coworker to do it.

“I’m glad.” The softness in Jungkook’s voice makes you smile despite yourself. “If you’re up for it, there’s a 5:30 class we could try and make.”

“Let’s do it.”

“Want to change out here and then walk over? Those tiny locker rooms get a little crazy right after work.”

You nod as you set your purse down on your desk. “That sounds perfect.”

Jungkook is still smiling as he ruffles a hand through his hair, his other hand gripping the strap of his backpack. “Okay, cool. Then I guess I’ll see you in the team meeting in a bit.” He takes a few steps backwards, still facing your desk, then finally pivots on his heel and heads down the hallway.

It only takes an instant for you to realize you do not want to be alone with your thoughts. The paranoia you’ve felt before that Yoongi will walk in the doors any second returns in full-force, worse than it’s ever been. The team meeting ends up being a blessing in disguise, and you get to the conference room nearly twenty minutes early, grateful for a reason to get away from your desk.

Unfortunately, it’s an exhausting discussion on scheduling for the upcoming quarter. When you finally wrap up after running almost fifteen minutes over, you head immediately for the break room, in desperate need of another cup of coffee.

The room is empty when you step inside, and you enjoy the peace and quiet as you set to fixing a mug the way you like it: two cream, two sugar— your hand hovers over the packets for a moment, then you shrug and grab a third sugar and dump it in. You deserve this.

Absorbed in your routine, you nearly knock the entire cup over at the sudden sound of the ice machine kicking on. When you glance up at the source, your stomach drops, because of course: it’s Yoongi, adding more ice to his Americano with that default sour expression on his face. The universe seems to have no mercy for you lately.

“Is there a reason you always sneak up on people?” You snap at him. At this point, just his presence is enough to frustrate you.

He quirks an eyebrow, removing his cup from the dispenser and shaking it a little to distribute the ice. “Is there a reason you put so much crap in your coffee?”

You blink, taken aback by the fact that he must have been watching you, and watching closely to notice such specific details. As much as you’d like to be the bigger person and say nothing, the retort comes to you before you can think to stop it.

“I’m sorry, is there something you’d rather I put in my mouth instead?”

Yoongi has clearly chosen the wrong moment to take a swig of his drink, because he immediately chokes on it at your words. It looks like it’s taking all his effort to not spit it out on the floor, and his eyes are as wide as you’ve ever seen them, like he can’t believe what you just said. You honestly can’t either.

It feels surprisingly good. If he’s going to ruin your life, you might as well get a chance to return the favor. You pick up your mug and leave the break room with a polite smile, feeling more satisfied than you have in weeks.

As you take a seat at your desk and return to your to-do list, that thought stays with you, resurfacing again each time you pause to sip from your mug.

It’s true: you’re well overdue to turn the tables. It might even help get some of this excess energy out, you reason. While you consider the various outlets you have at your disposal, your eyes fall to your purse, where your change of workout clothes for tonight’s boxing class is tucked away.

All at once, the plan clicks together in your mind.

At 5:00 on the dot, you shut your laptop and grab your purse, making a beeline for the restroom. You lock yourself into one of the larger stalls and slip out of your work clothes.

Your fingers are trembling slightly with anticipatory nerves as you fumble at the buttons of your blouse; you do your best to ignore the little voice in your head questioning whether or not this is a good idea.

You shimmy out of your skirt and slide on your leggings, grateful you managed to grab a matching workout set today instead of merely digging out something clean. It’s actually your favorite set: a cute strappy top with high-waisted leggings that have just enough compression to make your ass look astounding, in a sunset orange and pink gradient that perfectly compliments your skin tone.

Once you’ve pulled your heels off and changed into sneakers, you slip out of the stall to examine yourself in the mirror. You wiggle your hips a little, satisfied with the way your ass jiggles in response.

This will do, you think to yourself.

Jungkook is waiting in front of your desk when you return, and it’s really quite funny to see him dressed for class within the four walls of your office building. The duality of him has occurred to you before—that someone who is accurately described as Baby Star Candy also likes to beat the shit out of things as exercise, for instance. But it’s on full display now as you take in his black muscle tee and gray sweatpants. You’d almost believe he was a different person entirely if he didn’t have the same shy grin plastered on his face.

“I just double-checked, looks like everyone else has left for the day,” he starts, and you’re not surprised. Your coworkers usually arrive and leave early, with spouses and kids at home to attend to. His smile falters a little as he continues. “Well, except Suga. I wasn’t sure how you wanted to handle that.”

You set your purse on your desk and fish the office keys out. “I’ve got it. Be right back.”

When you approach the Genius Lab door, you decide to at least do him the decency of knocking, and you even ring his stupid doorbell in hopes that it might be loud enough to hear even with headphones on. Then you punch the code in and turn the handle, your heartbeat slamming hard in your chest.

Yoongi appears to have been doing actual work, thankfully, and is sliding off his headphones when you push the door open.

“Time to wrap it up,” you say, willing your voice to stay steady. “I have to leave early today.”

He spins his chair towards you, an expression on his face like he might be ready to argue, but that look of annoyance quickly vanishes as he appears to process your outfit. It may have been the alcohol convincing you on Friday night, but now you’re certain his eyes trail up and down your body, because he takes his fucking time with it. He breathes a soft exhale, and you swear you even see his jaw go slack.

“Come on, Yoongi.” You push again, crossing towards him and trying to ignore the way every cell in your body is vibrating. He slides his chair back from the desk, granting you just enough space to seize your opportunity.

You slip a finger through the ring of your office keys and twirl them in a circle, once, twice, then do your best to make the flick of your wrist subtle enough that he doesn’t notice. The fact that he can’t tear his eyes away from your figure certainly helps.

You’ve never been particularly sporty, so it feels like winning the fucking Olympics when the keys land squarely under his desk with a jangle, exactly as you’d hoped.

“Oops.”

It’s funny, you think to yourself, because he could absolutely prevent what’s about to happen by sheer virtue of not being an asshole. If you’d accidentally chucked your keys under Jungkook’s desk, he’d be on his knees in a millisecond to retrieve them for you.

But you know that Min Yoongi is lazy and selfish— not to mention, apparently very distracted at the moment. You can tell because he doesn’t do anything except avert his gaze to look stupidly at your keys on the floor, like he’s on a five second delay from reality.

“Don’t worry,” you allow yourself to outright purr. “I’ve got it.” And then you crawl under his desk and let him enjoy the show.

Yoongi grunts softly, low in his throat, sounding somewhere between aroused and frustrated. When your back arches, you do your best to believe that it’s on purpose to further torment him, and not an instinctual response to the noise.

Reaching out on your hands and knees, you grab the keyring and slide it towards you, nice and slow. The rush of power is so good that you can’t control yourself, and you wiggle your hips slightly, the same way you did in front of the mirror earlier.

“Fuck,” he hisses, and you know you’re playing a dangerous game.

Closing your hand tightly around the key, you scoot backwards enough to clear the desk, then right yourself again.

“Time to go,” you say brightly, trying to keep your composure.

The mix of emotions on Yoongi’s face is fascinating. You can see lust bordering on desperation, that much is obvious, but even still his lips are just barely turning up at the corners, like you’ve really surprised— or possibly impressed him. That glint in his eyes is stronger than you’ve ever seen it.

He clears his throat before he speaks. “Well. Now I need a minute.”

You’re about to get annoyed that he’s fucking with you when your eyes drift far enough down to notice the hand he has pressed into his crotch.

Oh. Oh. Wow, you severely underestimated the power of your ass in tight leggings, you realize.

You wonder if he can still read you as easily as ever, or if his current situation distracts him enough to miss the heat that creeps up your neck.

“Fine,” you say, and it comes out a little less confidently than you would have liked.

There’s a moment where you hesitate, and the tension in the room feels like a rubber band stretched to its absolute limit, liable to snap at any second. If you offered to… help him right now, would he say yes? You genuinely don’t know.

You can’t entertain that thought for a second longer. That way lies trouble. With a hard swallow, you force yourself to march out of the lab, letting the door slam shut behind you. Jungkook peeks his head around the corner of the hallway as you return.

“How’d it go?”

“He’s coming,” you say without thinking, and it takes every fiber of your being to keep your eyes from rolling back in your head with frustration. These unintentional double entendres are seriously getting to be too much.

“Cool, cool.” Jungkook glances at his watch. “We’re making good time anyway.” He pauses for a moment, rocking back on his heels and pursing his lips into a pout. “Did it help that I gave you the door code?”

Talk about a loaded question. You laugh a little before you can stop yourself. Help, destroy your life— who’s to say, really?

“I think so” feels like the easiest response that isn’t an outright lie. “Thanks for that,” you quickly add.

He shrugs it off like it’s nothing. “Anytime. I hope he’s not making your life too hard.”

Right on cue, you hear the sound of Yoongi exiting his lab from down the hallway. You’re thankful that you don’t have to scramble to try and find a coherent response to that comment, and you choose instead to head for the front doors. Jungkook and Yoongi file out first and you set the alarm, then slip out after them, pulling the door firmly closed and locking it.

You turn back to see Jungkook pressing the elevator button and Yoongi entirely transfixed in something on his phone. He’s faced enough towards you that you glance down and confirm his problem has been resolved. You can’t stop yourself from wondering by what means.

Fucking hell, you really are too far gone.

When the elevator dings, you step in, Jungkook following behind after you. Yoongi makes no move to get on, continuing to tap away at his phone. Fine by you, you think as the doors begin to close. You’re more than happy to not have to suffer through an elevator ride with him.

It’s only when Jungkook sticks his arm between the doors to keep them from closing that you remember you’re sharing this elevator with the most wholesome man alive. Damn him.

“Suga?” He says, and Yoongi’s head snaps up. “Are you coming?”

Against your better judgment, you lock eyes with Yoongi for a split second, and there’s clearly a shared emotion happening. But neither of you have any way to explain it to Jungkook that wouldn’t make you both sound insane, which you might be. So suffer you must.

“Yeah, sorry,” Yoongi mumbles as he steps into the elevator next to you, Jungkook on your other side. Fucking perfect.

There’s several inches between you, but it feels like nothing at all, and the images that flash through your head put last night’s vibrator session to shame. It would be so easy, if Jungkook weren’t here, for Yoongi to reach out and touch you. And even if he didn’t, it would be just as easy for you to press the emergency stop button, to torment and tease him until he slammed you up against the wall, grabbed you by the hair, and gave you exactly what you—

The ding of the elevator reaching the ground floor snaps you out of your fantasy. You can feel how stiff your nipples are through the thin fabric of your workout top, and you can only pray neither of them are observant enough to notice.

When the elevator doors slide open, you can’t exit fast enough, moving so quickly that Jungkook nearly has to jog to keep up as he calls goodnight to Yoongi over his shoulder.

So much for getting excess energy out, you think. At least you’ll have plenty to burn off in class.

~*~

With preparations for the upcoming quarter in full swing, it feels like your workload triples overnight. The rest of the week is a mess of scheduling, communications distributions, and trying to make sure you don’t screw up any of the projects your boss has delegated to you. 

If nothing else, it’s a good opportunity for you to cool the fuck off. It feels like the only time your brain isn’t overwhelmed with thoughts of Yoongi is when you’re neck-deep in work tasks.

There’s enough on your plate that you end up working late on Wednesday and Thursday just to get your most pressing deliverables finished. Yoongi keeps to his typical exit schedule both nights, but come Friday evening, when you grab your phone while waiting for a particularly large report to run, you realize with surprise that it’s already 6:30. You never saw him leave.

In no rush to repeat the events of last Friday—how was it only a week ago?—you decide it’s safer to shoot him a text. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you figure out the best way to phrase it.

I’m working late if you need to do the same.

You hit send, not wanting to overthink it any longer, and you don’t even have time to put your phone down before his response comes in: a single thumbs-up emoji. You don’t know what you expected.

There’s a hum in your chest that’s difficult to ignore as you get back to your work, and you can feel your heart beat a little faster whenever your mind returns to the realization that you’re once again alone in the office with Yoongi. And it’s only getting later and later. You hope you’ll make it through the night intact.

When you’ve finally finished putting together all the presentation decks for Monday’s slated pitches, you collapse back in your chair, rubbing your eyes exhaustedly. You balk at the time on your screen: it’s nearly 10 PM, and you still haven’t heard or seen any trace of Yoongi.

You’re not about to do this again, you think to yourself as you type out another text.

Ready to go?

While you wait for a response, you tap through your other messages. You’ve left Jimin on read for a couple of days now, and your heart sinks as you scroll back through the chain. You make a mental promise that you’ll catch him up on everything this weekend, even if it means you may never hear the end of the TV show jokes. Besides, you’re in desperate need of best friend advice.

You scroll through social media for a few more minutes, then give a frustrated sigh. Still no response from Yoongi. You tap his contact name and hit the button to call him. When you bring the phone to your ear, it immediately goes to voicemail.

Well, fuck.

Pressing the button to end the call, you set your phone down on your desk, and the pit of dread in your stomach grows with each passing second. You wish this all didn’t have to be so fucking complicated. Seeing no other option, you slowly get to your feet and head for the Genius Lab.

You knock as loudly as you can, giving the doorbell a few jabs for good measure as well. As you punch the numbers in and the handle gives, it only occurs to you now: it’s been a full week, and yet, he hasn’t changed the code of his lock.

When you push the door open, you give it a second before you cross the threshold.

“I’m coming in,” you announce as loudly as you can. “Put your dick away.” You do your best to make the comment sound flippant, in an attempt to disguise how fast your pulse is racing.

Yoongi doesn’t respond, or even so much as turn to look at you, seemingly entirely absorbed in the open track on his screen. At least he’s working, but still: you don’t appreciate being ignored.

Setting your jaw, you cross the room until you reach his desk, then turn around to put your foot on his chair and give it a small shove backwards. He’s not expecting it, so you’re able to move him back enough to create a gap where you can wedge yourself between him and his computer, forcing him to acknowledge your presence.

“I tried calling, but you didn’t answer,” you offer as an explanation when he looks up at you, clearly annoyed. “It’s time to go to sleep.”

Yoongi fishes his phone out of his pocket, and his brow furrows a little when the screen doesn’t wake. Slipping it back wordlessly, he crosses his arms, slouching slightly in his chair.

“Is that really what you want?” He finally asks.

“To sleep?” You scoff. “Desperately.”

“You didn’t seem to mind when I had it out last time. I believe you confirmed you enjoyed it, actually.”

Oh. That.

Yoongi rolls his chair closer to you and you reflexively move to take a step backwards, but your ass bumps into the edge of his desk. Nowhere else to go, you perch unsurely on it. 

You’re tired. Not just physically, but mentally. Tired of playing these games and running the same circles in your brain over and over. Tired of trying to deny the extremely obvious truth. So you don’t.

“And what if I did, Yoongi?”

He seems pleased by your answer. “Well, if I’m honest, I think you came in here hoping it would happen again. Because you know what you want.” He uncrosses his arms, letting his elbows rest on the supports of his desk chair and his wrists dangle freely, legs spreading a little wider as if to really drive the point home.

You swallow hard, unable to hide the effect his current pose has on you. But you refuse to let him have all the power. You know now that this, whatever it is, goes both ways.

“I think you didn’t change the code on your door because you want it, too.”

He outright laughs, apparently surprised at your candor. “Oh, I’m not ashamed to admit what I want. In fact, I’ll tell you right now. It would be great to get it out of my system, actually. It’s been a real challenge focusing.”

Yoongi continues on before you can stop him. And you don’t want to stop him.

“Let’s see.” His eyes trace lazily down your figure in a way that makes you feel totally exposed, despite the fact that you’re still fully dressed. “I want to bend you over my desk right where you are.”

You shiver at the words, and at the way his deep voice is soaked with lust. His eyes start to glaze over as he continues.

“I want to pull your dress up and get a good look at that ass you were tempting me with. Shit, it was like you wanted me to take you right there on the floor.”

You have the edge of his desk in an absolute death grip now, and you can barely remember how to breathe. There’s a throbbing ache radiating between your legs, and you shift your hips a little in desperate search of relief.

“Yeah, you like that?” Yoongi’s eyes lock with yours, and though you’re sure the answer is painted all over your face, you nod.

“Good. Because I’m not done. I want to finger that tight little pussy and spank you until you bruise.” You tear your eyes away from him as the shock of his words rips through you, and you inhale a shaky gasp. But he just keeps going. “I want to make you beg to take my cock. And then I want to fuck you like the slut you so clearly are. I want to make you come so hard that your legs shake, so hard that you have no choice but to scream my name as I wreck you.”

The room is spinning around you now, and you’re fully grinding your hips down against his desk. Your pussy is soaked, gushing with arousal just from the filthy things he’s saying. Your mind can barely process that this is really happening.

When you lift your gaze to meet his again, Yoongi is smirking at you, obviously satisfied with the way he’s made you come undone. “But first—” he pauses for a second, as if debating whether or not to say it. “I want you to spread your legs for me. Show me what’s under that dress.”

You’re so far gone now, you think you’d do anything he asked. The skirt of your black sheath dress slides up your thighs as you drop your legs open, and your face heats up in a mixture of shame and insane, overwhelming desire.

“Wow, look who’s actually capable of taking direction,” Yoongi quips, but then his jaw drops as your knees spread as wide as they can go, and you can see his tongue working against his cheek.

You recall a fraction of a second later that you wore a light pink pair of panties today. Light enough that you’re sure he has a front-row view of how entirely drenched you are, and it must be obscene. You’ve never been this turned on in your life. And he hasn’t even touched you.

“Fuck, look at you,” he groans, and when you see his hand drift down to palm himself, you realize his dick is fully erect, straining hard against the fabric of his black joggers.

“Your turn,” Yoongi grunts, hips canting up into his touch. His eyes are heavy-lidded with lust as he watches you carefully. “Tell me what you want.”

Your heart is pounding hard in your chest. His pupils are blown dark and wide, and you’re sure you don’t look much better. There isn’t a single inch of you that doesn’t want him. And you could have him right now.

But your stomach turns at the thought of what would happen after, and all the very many ways this could go horribly wrong. You can’t. You shouldn’t. It would be a very bad idea. With every last shred of willpower you can muster, you press your knees together again and lie through your teeth.

“I want to go home and go to sleep, Yoongi.”

Your legs shake a little as you slide off his desk and walk out of the room before you can take it back. When the door closes behind you, you have to slump against it and breathe hard for a moment until you collect yourself enough to make it back to your desk.

Yoongi emerges from his lab a few minutes after you. Just as he has dozens of times before, he strides past your desk and out the front doors wordlessly, the expression on his face impossible to decipher.

It’s almost convincing enough to make you believe that nothing has changed.

chapter three | masterlist | chapter five