Black Tears

begin

Laying on my silk sheets I wake up to the warm rays of the sun resting upon my face. I grab the modern clock resting on the nightstand reading '9:30 AM.' I get up uncomfortable from sleeping in my clothes that are now dirty and building up must.

I walk towards my private bathroom reaching for my toothbrush but I stop in my tracks. Glancing at myself in the mirror I notice a large mark on my stomach. A hickey..?

"fuck... Jimin."

All the memories rushed through my head from last night. The sweat, the moans, the excitement rushing through my... blood. I haven't felt that good in so long.

Enough of this. Get your head on straight, get it together.

I take the time to shower and bathe myself uncovering more bruises than what I thought I had. Even on my ass? It's still slightly pink! As much as I hate to say it,

I love it.

He took the lead, gripping my face, wrists, or hair with his hands—I somehow just knew this was the thing I'm missing in my life. The harder he squeezed, pressed, or pulled, the louder I moaned. He got the message.

After my shower, I stare at the sad clothes I have on the floor. I guess I have no choice other than to wear something the guys provided for me. I open the closet door intimidated by all the designer branded clothes hung from the ceiling to the floor. My jaw drops every time I walk into this closet. I don't think ill ever get used to this.

I trail my fingers across the dresses stopping on one that caught my eye. It's red and deep. Silk too. It's a reoccurring theme in this house with silk, yet this dress is just different. It's simple, yet daring. It has a crescent moon right in the middle that I adore. I'll keep this dress in mind.

I continue moving down to the blouses and pants. I'm not the greatest at fashion but I think I managed to pull something together. White laced underwear with white slim business pants topped with a pink sweatshirt. Looking at myself in the mirror I can't help but say I look amazing. Can I consider this a change for the better?

Walking down the stairs to the kitchen it seems as if most of the guys are out of the house or somehow still sleeping. I begin to linger around the house, sneaking some bread from the kitchen. Fuck. I can't get last night out of my head. It's like I'm moping about the sex, trying not to dwell on it too much but also unable to stop dwelling on it. Just then I heard a voice behind me.

"Hey."

I whirl around, a bread roll in hand to see Yoongi. Behind him is one of his managers I'm assuming. The man behind him raises an eyebrow at me noticing half of the bread roll in my mouth and the other half in my hand.

I gape for a moment, but I don't let go of the bread roll as I bow. When I straighten, I take another bite of the bread. Because, priorities.

"How are you? I don't believe we've met before. Call me Sejin. I know these boys can be a handful. I've seen them grow up, so I know how odd it may be living here. Please if there's anything you may need, let us know. How're the boys?" The manager asks, and I blink, unsure why he's here, why he's talking to me.

"Um," I say, swallowing the bread. "Good?" The interactions are good, the sex is good... wait no, don't think about it, don't think about the sex when you're talking to their manager. Fuck.

"That's good to hear. I just wanted to remind you of the car here to drive you to your mother," I can't help but question myself how do they know? "We monitor your calls for your safety. It's a part of your contract which by judging by your face you did not know." He concludes. I nod my head in understanding. It makes sense. Privacy issues blah blah blah.