You weren’t sure when the lines between work and sex blurred.

It must have been a slow, mundane transition– the kind that seeps into your skin unnoticed, the same way ink bleeds through cheap paper. Maybe it was woven in through sideways glances during Monday Stock meetings, the way his doe eyes stayed on you for just a little too long.

Or maybe it was when he’d tell you to get him coffee. Not asked. Just a sharp finger in your direction, voice dripping in casual command. Or perhaps it happened all at once– like a lightning strike.

A flash of heat blooming over your skin when he leaned over your shoulder, voice low as he pointed out a typo on your monitor. The brush of his breath dangerously close to your ear. The way your name sounded different when he said it. He didn’t look at you like you were just his secretary– no. He looked at you like you were a rule he wanted to break. That was the thing about CEO JEON JUNGKOOK .

He never raised his voice– never barked out a demand. He just expected it. Expected you to obey. Expected your posture to change when he entered the room or be ready for last-minute schedule changes. And, embarrassingly, you always did.

You used to tell yourself you were just good at your job. Reliable. Efficient. Hardworking. But that wasn’t quite true. Not when your pulse started thrumming when you heard the clicking of his shoes across the floor, his cologne making an entrance before him.

Not when your thighs pressed together under your desk when he looked down at you, muttering a quick “My office. Now.”

And you didn’t say anything. You never did when he used that tone– low, clipped, and laced with something much darker than authority. To anyone else it would have seemed that he was upset– but you knew the truth. You knew what that tone meant.

Heat was already thrumming through your veins as you stood, heels clicking softly behind him as you made the walk to his office. You followed him inside, lip being dragged between your teeth as the door shut behind you.

The unspoken start of something that had begun far too long ago. Something carnal– unethical, but utterly human. You stood, waiting– because that’s what he expected. Because that’s what this had become. Because he hadn’t given you permission to move. He didn’t look at you right away. He dropped his briefcase next to his desk, the soft thud sound it made far too loud in your ears. He moved behind his desk. Slowly. Every movement he made was precise, drawing you in like he had his own gravitational pull. He loosened his tie like it was muscle memory, unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves with a rigor that made your mouth go dry. Only then did he look up– and there it was. That look. The fire that blazed in his eyes. Like he wanted to dismantle you piece by piece. Not in spite of your obedience to him but because of it.

“Lock the door.” He says softly.

You do

The door locks with a soft ‘click’ that sends a jolt of heat through your being. He stepped around his desk slowly, like he’s a man who fights time and wins. Like he has too much of it.

As if you weren’t already trembling from the sheer wait of anticipation. You stand stock-still as he comes up closer. Heat radiates off his body, toxifying the air between the two of you. he smells like power. Money. Greed. Like a man who’d been in the trenches and clawed his way up the ranks, mauling anything that dared stand in his way. Or disobey a direct order.

His muscular frame towers over you, caging you in his shadow as well as between his body and the door. Your breath stutters.

“You do everything I ask,” he murmurs, lifting his hand to run along your jaw. His fingers graze your soft skin. Hunger drowns his eyes, the obvious control he has over you erecting something animalistic beneath his skin. His touch is feather-light.

“But you don’t ask for anything in return. No sick days. No half-days. Nothing.”

“I don’t need to.” Your voice is quiet, strained as arousal pools in your abdomen.

Maybe he couldn’t tell. It’s not like he’s reading your mind– able to see the dirty fantasies playing out in your head. All he could see was what you presented. So, you kept your posture straight and willed away the flush that wanted to creep up your neck.

He lets out a soft hum– amused. Almost indulgent. His voice is sin wrapped in velvet and satin, slithering in your ears and wrapped around your brain like the serpent in the Garden.

“No. But you want.”

You couldn’t deny it. Couldn’t deny him. Not when you knew him touching you like this was a pure violation of HR rules and you didn’t stop him.

You didn’t even flinch when he touched you. His fingers trailed lower, eyes gleaming as he traced down the line of your neck. He watched your pulse stutter. Almost smiled when your breath caught in your throat. His fingers grazed your collarbone before settling over the soft fabric of your blouse. His brows knitted together as he looked down at the material, as if he was debating whether or not to open a gift.

“You’ve been good all week.” jungkook says, gaze catching yours as he pops open the top button. There’s something primal in his eyes– like a predator watching its prey. An air of control surrounds him that has you subtly pressing your thighs together. His fingers trail down the center of your chest.

“And I reward good behavior.”

A sound leaves your lips, foreign in your own throat. No one– or anything– had ever made you feel like this. Like you could tumble down a thousand foot drop and still be okay only because he was there. Dean catches it.

Then his mouth is on yours– claiming, hot, and unyielding. He kissed like he worked: with absolute control. His hand tangled in your hair, gathering it in his hands to tilt your head where he wanted it. The other slipped down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. Even through his slacks, you could feel the heavy hardness pressing against your thigh.

His pants were ready to burst, cock straining beneath the cloth. You whimpered into the kiss and he swallowed it eagerly, nipping at your bottom lip.And there was no hesitation. Just weeks– no, months– of unresolved tension snapping like a rubber band and exploding. Your lips moved with his and your hands gripped his shirt. You needed to touch him– feel him against you after not being able to for so long.

He walked the two of you backwards until he broke the kiss, spinning you around. His chest was flush against your back, body heat burning your skin as flames licked up your veins. You half expected him to sweep the papers and files off his desk.

But didn’t do chaos. He did organization and control. He bent you over slowly, methodically. His hand pressed between your shoulder blades with delicious pressure.

“Hands flat.” He commanded.

“Stay still.”

You obeyed. Of course you did.

You felt his breath against your neck, mouth lifting towards your ear.

“Tell me if you want to stop.”

But you don’t. Just press your ass back against his hips, aching for some sort of friction. Any kind. Shit, you were half-tempted to start grinding against the desk for some relief.

He’s hard– so hard. Harder than a rock, cock twitching in his pants at the sight of you bent over for him. You rock back again. All careless and needy, cunt already dripping and waiting.

He grunts at the pressure– part surprise and part shocked. At the direct display of carelessness– disobedience– to an order. Pressing up against him wasn’t staying still.

And jeon was not a man who tolerated disobedience without consequence.

His free hand presses you against the wood harder, forcing a little whimper from your lips. He tuts.

His hand cracks a heavy smack against your ass. Pain blossoms on your skin, knees buckling as your nerves are jolted into overdrive.

he nods, knowing the stinging on your ass was nothing compared to what he could do.

“That.” He muttered lowly, voice wrapped in danger. “Was just a warning.”

A breath leaves your lips, nodding your head. He wasn’t messing around. You knew that now.

“Yes, sir.”

he hums in approval. His hand moves from your ass to slip off his loosened tie. The soft red fabric glints in the light, sleek and sinful. He leaned down, chest pressing to your back and hips snug against yours. He straightens the fabric, bringing it around your wrists.

“You’re gonna be good for me now.” He murmurs. “Arent’t you?”

Heat flushes your skin. “Yes, sir.”

Jungkook ties the silt around your wrist– tight but not painful or able to leave a mark– before standing up again. His gaze rakes down your body, eyes blazing with desire.

“Good girl.”

His eyes sweep down your body, wrists bound and chest rising against his desk with each breath. He looked at you like a man who had finally been able to take what was his. He looked down at you like you were a seraph sent down from the heavens just for him. Because you were. All bent over, legs shaking in anticipation, lip dragged between your teeth. A fucking vision in front of him.

“Look at you,” He murmurs, undoing his belt with one hand.

The sound of leather sliding through his pant loops is sharp in the tension filled air.

“All tied up for your boss.”