Homecoming

One

You weren't wasted. Tipsy? Sure. Drunk? Maybe. But not wasted. You knew your name and where you were. You knew where you were going. To the bar. Your cup was empty, and you were aware of how your feet hurt in the heels you wore. So that prompted a trip to the bar.

Peeling your body away from Hoseok's and Jimin's had been an unpleasant task, but only because you really liked the sandwich. Their eyes, lips, and hard dicks promised a damn good time. Just thinking about it gave you tingles. You made your way through the crowd of dancers, only getting distracted once or twice by random hands on your hips that made you sway to the beat. If you didn't have a booth with BTS to return to, you might have stayed.

You pulled your curve-hugging dress down and approached the bar, hand up to get the bartender's attention. He noticed and nodded his head as he continued to pour drinks. Great. You had to wait. It didn't look like a long line so you spun around on your chair and faced the crowd with your knees pressed together. Again, you weren't wasted. The dress was so short you'd flash someone if you didn't.

A guy on the dance floor caught your eyes, and he started to dance facing you, hands held out for you. Dark hair. Full lips. Oh, boy. You briefly wondered if Hoseok would mind you taking a detour on the way back when someone stepped in front of you. You didn't look up at the face. You were too fixated on the white button-down shirt. The buttons looked familiar. So did the black turtleneck under it. The haze in your brain made it difficult to put two and two together, so you looked up.

Oh, shit.

"You look like you're having a great time, kitten." Jiyong leaned in, resting a hand on your thigh. "Won't you come sit with daddy?"

You've never sobered up that fast in your whole life. You held your breath and moved your mouth like a fish. How long had he been here? Shit, did he see you with the guys? Fuck. He had to. He had that look in his eyes. It was a challenge. If you said no, there would be hell to pay later. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

You bit your lip and nodded. His smirk grew into a full grin as he took a step back and held out a hand to you. You took it, praying he wouldn't notice you were shaking, and he pulled you off the stool. His hand slipped down to the small of your back and he gave you a little push forward towards the curtain that sectioned off the VIP area.

Shit.

Fuck.

Shit.

The boys were in the VIP that looked out over the dance floor. This VIP was private, quieter. They wouldn't know you hadn't left. Ah, shit. Should you text them? Who wouldn't come after you? Yoongi! He'd be able to explain—

"Where's your head, kitten? You haven't said a word." His voice was a velvety murmur. Jiyong's hand slipped to your hip and pulled you closer to his side. He looked down at you, eyes searching your face as the smirk began to fade into a scowl. "Are you worried your boy toys will miss you?"

Dread washed over you like a bucket of ice water. He'd seen you dancing not-so-innocently with them. "I-I didn't know you were here!"

He hummed and pushed you into the booth. "I know you didn't. Or else you wouldn't have been practically fucking them where everyone could see." Your knees hit the plush cushion and you scrambled to sit upright. "Did you forget what I said to you before I left?"

"N-no." You turned to face him, your hands falling into your lap. "I didn't forget, daddy. But I didn't know you were serious."

"Oh? So then, that little show out there was deliberate? My kitten was being a slut on purpose?" He pointed behind him but his eyes were on you. Your face felt hot. Could looks kill?