Pretend To Be Mine | Namjin FF ✓

mine to fuck

Seokjin:

"I can't, hyung, please let me go!" Hobi pleaded, on the brink of tears.

"I'm sorry, hyung," Jimin whispered, his gaze fixed downwards, an air of remorse enveloping him.

With that, he stood up and left, leaving me standing there, dumbfounded. Since my return from Korea, I've observed their demeanor; Hobi appears to be in distress, his eyes often red, as if he's been crying every night. Thus, I resolved to talk to them, but it seems my efforts are falling short.

"Hobi, stop!" I interjected as he, too, rose to depart.

"Please, hyung," he implored, tears streaming down his cheeks.

My heart ached as I enveloped him in a hug, gently patting his back as he sobbed into my shoulder.

"Why don't I deserve to be happy?" he questioned amidst his tears.

"You deserve all the happiness in the world, Hobi. What are you saying?" I responded softly, soothingly stroking his back.

"No, hyung, everybody always treats me as if I'm worthless. I'm tired of constantly trying to please everyone; I want happiness too," he confessed, tears glistening in his eyes.

"Hobi, you'll find your happiness soon. I'm sorry if things didn't work out with Jimin," I reassured him, delicately wiping away his tears.

His despondency likely stemmed from Jimin's rejection, a fact that perplexed me; I had thought Jimin reciprocated Hobi's feelings.

"I don't need anyone to make me happy. I'm better off alone," Hobi declared, pulling away and leaving without another word.

Sighing, I watched him depart, realizing that perhaps both of them needed some time to reconcile. Exiting the room, I noticed Yoongi, appearing distressed; he must have overheard our conversation.

"Yoongi, you—" I began, but he swiftly turned and left.

Frowning, I pondered their actions. It seemed all of them had walked out on me—that's rude I'm their hyung.

But I didn't followed any of them. They need some time to think straight.

I ascended the stairs to my own room, where upon entry, I noticed Namjoon seated on the sofa, his legs slightly apart.

Engrossed in texting someone, one hand busily tapping away while the other rested on his thigh, I know he is aware of my presence but he didn't looked up.

My throat tightened as I observed him; his mere presence had a profound effect on me, stirring desire with a mere glance.

I approached him cautiously, he didn't looked up. Drawing nearer and nearer, until I stood between his spread legs, the proximity was intense; a mere lift of his face would result in a brush against my chest.

With pent-up sexual frustration simmering within me, I knew I couldn't endure this any longer. He will fuck ms today that's it.

Taking action, I encircled my arms around his neck, threading my fingers through his hair. His typing ceased, yet he still didn't look up.

I lifted his head up by fisting his hair, our eyes locking in an electric exchange.

I could discern the longing in his gaze, igniting a thrill within me to realize that he desired me as much as I desired him.

His hand shifted from his thigh to mine, and he casually discarded his phone onto the sofa. My throat tightened as I finally held his undivided attention.

"Do you need anything, darling?" he inquired, causing my pulse to quicken.

"You," I confessed, noticing a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes.