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here4kpopfics · 4 months

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Pieces of Greece | KNJ & KSJ

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Kim Namjoon x reader Genre: smut, a little fluff, a whole lot of bickering AU: established relationship, fwb to lovers Wordcount: 17,100 on the dot Summary: After the events during Christmas in the Swiss mountains, your boyfriend Namjoon wants to go to Greece for his birthday. And, of course, another surprise in the form of Kim Seokjin. Warnings: There's. So. Much. Smut. Plane sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, Namjoon loves to watch but this time he gets to participate. ice play, threesomes the entire time. DVP fun time, creampie, oral in every which way, unprotected sex, it goes on. mxm moments that make my heart happy. IT'S SMUT WITH SOME PLOT OKAY. Rating: M / 18+ AN: Sooooooooooooooo....Many many many many months ago, someone asked if there'd ever be a sequel. i joked there would be a summer vacation. then summer happened and nothing was written. Then I met my favorite @echotoyou and well, they said they loved Swiss Miss and I mentioned the thought of a sequel and they got excited and then Namjoon's birthday was coming up and i thought fuck it and THEY ASKED FOR MOST OF THE SMUT IN THIS OKAY. so this is for my baby starcandy. i love you so much, i hope you enjoy. Thank you to my lovely @theharrowing for beta-reading and @classicscreations for the banner/divider. Also tagging @simp47koreancrackheads for reasons. Enjoy!!! 💜Masterlist | AskBox | AO3

When Namjoon brought up the idea of an end of summer vacation for his birthday, you were hesitant at first. Last time you let him plan a vacation, he dragged you to the Swiss mountains and it was miserable.

Well…not all of it was miserable.

Seokjin being your Christmas present made up for the freezing mountain getaway.

It’s been almost nine months since then. Seokjin’s been away filming and being a gorgeous model, but you both still kept in contact. The three of you agreed it’d be okay to send photos of you in lingerie sets, Namjoon taking it a step further to send videos of you riding his cock, begging to come. Seokjin would send videos back, specifically to you, of his hand stroking his cock until he was a moaning mess, coming all over himself.

The two of you met up with him a few times since Christmas. Once in February, once in April, and the last time being very briefly in July when Namjoon watched on as Seokjin fucked you so ridiculously that you squirted all over the hotel bed while he erupted inside of you.

As far as you were concerned, your relationship with Namjoon was technically still monogamous. At least, until Seokjin became involved and suddenly he was the added friend with benefits for you. Namjoon and Seokjin never got involved with one another; your boyfriend only ever watching on as his best friend fucked you sensless, and fucking you right after so your last orgasm was from the man you loved.

You understood Namjoon loved to watch. Every time you’d look over at him slowly rubbing his hard cock, either with his hand coated in your arousal or with your underwear, his eyes would be watching the faces you’d make in pleasure or the way Seokjin’s cock pounded into you. But there was always a moment where it felt like he wanted to be involved. You’ve tried to ask, but could never find a way to bring it up.

So you agreed to the trip, hoping you’d get the chance to ask at some point.

“Joon, what’d the attendant say?” Your boyfriend makes his way back to where you’re sitting in the terminal, wearing a long summer dress with thin straps. Your flight’s been delayed an hour at this point, and you’re feeling just a tad bit suffocated in this airport that conveniently has the air conditioning down for maintenance.

“Good news and bad news.” He sighs, plopping down in the seat next to you, “which do you want first?”

“Always start with the bad.”

“Bad news is it’s another ‘forty-five minutes at least’ until we can board.” He pauses for your groan of frustration, fanning yourself with the book cover of some nonsense romance book you found in the gift shop.

“And the good?”

“The good,” he smiles, handing you the boarding passes, “there aren’t a lot of people on our flight anyway, and the girl thought I was cute so we got upgraded to first class for free.”

Your eyes barely glance at the passes with the upgraded seat locations on them, instead finding their way to the female attendant that had her eyes on your boyfriend. Namjoon might not mind sharing you with another man, but you can’t say the same about you sharing Namjoon with another woman.

“Y/n. Don’t give her that look.”

“I’m not giving her a look.”

“Yes you are. You’re giving her that look at my man one more time and I’ll end your happiness look.”

“No I’m no— wait. I have a look like that?” You look at Namjoon with wide eyes, a grin slowly creeping across your face. “That’s so cool. Is it easily readable? Do I have others?”

The girl is long forgotten about as you see Namjoon’s beautiful dimples appear with his smile as he leans closer to whisper in your ear.

“Yeah. You make some other ones. Like when you’re about to come all over me. When I’ve fucked you so hard that you’re about to black out. The face you make when you realize you’ve taken every inch of me is my favorite, though.”

Your face flushes in heat as you sit completely still, eyes staring straight ahead. You hear him chuckle next to you before kissing your temple, leaning back in his seat with an arm resting against the back of yours. The goosebumps on your skin and the back of your neck raise with every pass his fingers make across your shoulder and back. You know it’s for comfort, but it feels like the best kind of torture.

Shockingly, the wait time is far less than forty-five minutes before you’re one of the first groups to board, letting Namjoon hand over the boarding passes to the attendant. She gives him a big smile and flirty eyes and you have to fight yourself to not give her whatever look Namjoon was talking about. You’re about to spend ten hours on a plane, two weeks in Greece, and potentially the rest of your life with this man. She will be left behind at this terminal; she is no threat.

If anything, she’s a gift to this world. The first class seats are amazing in comparison to the main cabin seats Namjoon originally booked. You immediately claim the cubby-like seat next to the window, Namjoon sitting in the cubicle parallel to yours. The flight attendant left you both pillows, blankets, a bottle of what deemed fancy water and snacks already laid out for each of you.

“Is this what Jin experiences with being famous? Because if so, one of us needs to get on it, stat, Joon. Probably you. Make an onlyfans.” You giggle when he ignores you, his face taking a turn at going flush with heat.

You don’t tease further, getting comfortable in your little bed for the next ten hours. You poke the buttons to make the bed come out from under your feet before returning it to a sitting position and pulling the partition down between you and your boyfriend’s seats.

“Hi.” You smile at him while he sorts out both of your bags, pulling out your phone charger and handing it to you. “Thank you, Joonie.” You lean across the divider to give him a kiss, laughing when you try to pull back, only to have a giant hand cradle the back of your neck, tugging you back against his lips.

“I love you, baby.” He whispers, finally pulling away when the surge of other passengers begin to board the plane. You quickly say it back, full love-sick grin on display for him.

God, you really do love him.

Halfway through the flight, you’re being nudged awake, pulled from an amazing dream or memory - you can’t tell anymore - of you and Namjoon. Your headphones are slowly pulled off your head as you groggily turn over to find Namjoon leaning through the divider with a smirk.

“What?” You grumble, wiping your eyes.

“You were moaning my name.”

“What?” You were moaning in your dream, but surely not in real life? On a plane?

“Bathroom in five minutes.” Is all he says before sliding the divider back up. All you hear is quiet rustling until you see his top half making its way to the first class bathrooms.

He can’t be serious.

He can’t.

While you love the control Namjoon has over you, and you both share an openness to exploring new kinks and sexual experiences, this wasn’t on either of your lists.

You watch the time on your phone move slowly, one minute down.

You shouldn’t do this.

Two minutes down.

You’ll get caught.

Three minutes.

You’ll be banned from flying. And how will you get back home if so? A ship of some sort?

Four.

But he’s waiting for you. Possibly hard and you’re soaked from your dream.

Five.

You tuck your phone under your pillow, slowly crawling out of your cubicle and tiptoeing your way to the front. Luckily first class only has about eight seats and everyone seems to be sound asleep as you reach the bathroom door, giving one small secret knock. The door unlocks and you creep it open, sneaking your way in.

“Holy fuck, it’s huge.” You whisper, eyes scanning the bigger than normal airplane bathroom. There’s enough space to have a moderately small sized counter and an actual sink. And enough space for your boyfriend to stand up tall without banging his head on the ceiling.

“I feel like I should make a joke there, but we have limited time. Turn and bend. Now.” He quietly growls. It’s only then you notice his hardened length in his hand, slowly being pumped as he waits for you to follow instructions.

“Sir, yes sir.” You quip, ignoring his glare as you turn around and brace yourself against the counter. He parts your legs with his feet, a hand grabbing your waist when you momentarily lose balance.

“Remember. Not a sound, okay?” He whispers against your ear, tongue tracing down your neck. You quickly nod, skin shivering as he pulls the hem of your dress up, bringing the fabric to the front and giving it to you to hold against your stomach. Your underwear is dropped past your knees and you quickly step one foot out so you can freely move.

He wastes no time smacking your ass once, grabbing at the meaty flesh right after. You fight back the yelp, covering your mouth as you watch his intense gaze through the mirror. His eyes are glued to your ass while he massages it, watching in awe as your arousal pools at your entrance.

“Fuck, I love how ready you are for me all the time, baby.” He groans, lining your hips up with his, gliding his cock along your folds. You bite the inside of your cheek to not make a noise.

“Stop that.” The hand on your hip slides up and around to your neck, pulling you up to his chest. “Don’t bite the inside of your cheek, it’ll get infected.”

“Then don’t tease me.” You rasp, voice straining when his grip tightens around your neck.

“If you insist.” He gives one bite to your neck before letting you go and bending you forward again. He gives no warning as he realigns himself, pushing past your entrance in one go.

You let out a silent scream, covering your mouth again with your free hand as you practically hug the sink. There’s no hesitation when he starts pounding into you, both of you a mess of silent moans.

“Come back up here.” He groans, pulling you back up by your arms. “I think it’s me that has to be careful about sounds, baby. How are you always so fucking tight?”

“Feels so good.” You gasp, fighting the moan building in your throat when he kisses your neck.

He’s about to respond when there’s a small amount of turbulence, causing him to thrust even deeper into you. One of your hands flies to your mouth, followed quickly by him biting your neck.

Namjoon removes your hand from your mouth, placing his there instead, snaking his fingers past your lips and making you suck. “Get yourself off on my cock, baby. We don’t have time.” You whine, your fingers quickly finding your clit and rubbing.

Another little bout of turbulence and his cock being buried even deeper inside of you makes you fight against the urge to scream around his fingers, walls clenching as you come around his cock. He comes seconds later, deep inside, holding you close while his lips leave feather kisses across your skin.

You’re both silent after, his cock remaining tucked deep within your walls as his hands rub up and down your sides realizing you have another five hours before landing. The kiss he places on your shoulder tells you he’s having the same thought.

“Need help?” He asks in a hushed whisper. You shake your head, letting him pull out. It’s almost awkward having to move around one another to clean up, but Namjoon makes sure to give you his dimpled smile and a quick kiss every passing until he’s ready to go back, leaving you to finish up in peace.

The rest of the flight was normal. Half the time you were asleep, the other half playing phone games with Namjoon or listening to music or watching a movie while he was reading.

When you landed, Namjoon was quick to grab your carry on and usher you off the plane, almost running to baggage claim.

“Jooooooon, our bags aren’t going to magically appear the second we get to baggage claim. They have to unload the plane first.”

“I know, I know. But…I have a surprise for you.” Namjoon grins, pulling you past baggage claim to where people are waiting for their loved ones to emerge.

And that’s when you swear your heart stops for a moment.

Kim Seokjin.

In Greece.

“Jin?!” You accidentally shout. In hindsight, you’ll understand why Namjoon grabbed your bags and didn’t let you carry anything. You would’ve dropped it all or thrown it across the building as you ran up to your friend and jumped into his awaiting embrace.

“Oh my god, you’re here?! Why are you here?” you start rambling off nonsense, speaking into his neck as he hugs you, holding you in the air with his arms holding just below your ass. “How have you been? How was the movi–”

“Princess, slow down!” He laughs, finally placing you back on your feet. Your hands rest on his forearms, his on your elbows as you finally look at him.

He’s still beautiful. His hair is still the same, if not a little bit longer. You told him he was in his long fluffy era while he’s taking a break from filming last time you saw him. It was fun tugging on it when his mouth was exploring your body. His eyes are a mixture of exhaustion, happiness, and a hint of mischief. He somehow looks bigger, like he’s been working out a lot more. It’s only been two months since you’ve seen him, but it feels like a lot longer. There’s a small ache in your heart when you look up at him, and you’re not even sure when you started crying until his hands cradle your face, thumbs wiping away your tears.

“Why is my beautiful princess crying, hmm? Can’t stand my beauty?”

You scoff out a sob, lightly smacking him. The ache in your heart turns into a searing jolt at my beautiful princess.

“Shut up, you’re hideous.”

“Tell that to Vogue.”

“Will do. I’ll write a book about it.”

“Oh, can I have the first copy?”

“Of course. I’ll sign it and everything.”

“Oh my god, what an honor.”

“I’ve missed you, Seokjin.”

“I’ve missed you too, y/n.”

He pulls you into another hug, tightening his arms around you when you let out a soft squeak.

“Okay, you two, let’s get this vacation underway.” Your boyfriend’s voice drags you out of the hug you’ve missed so much, stepping away from Seokjin to let the two men hug and greet one another while you mind the bags Namjoon must’ve grabbed while you were busy.

“You’re not gonna run into my arms? Only her?” Seokjin playfully pouts at your boyfriend, who rolls his eyes in response, grabbing your hand in his.

“Nah, that’s her thing.”

“What’s your thing then?” you ask, tilting your head to the side with a smirk.

“Later.”

He doesn’t look at you, so you turn to look at Seokjin instead, who has an eyebrow raised at you. You shrug in response, giving him a look that says I’m just as confused and walk out with your boyfriend and best friend.

“So, welcome to Athens.” Seokjin starts and he and Namjoon load the bags into the back of the small car, “I’ll be your driver today and the rest of the time we’re here until we get to–”

“Don’t say it, hyung.” Namjoon quickly interjects as you get in the passenger seat.

“Don’t say what?” You turn to look at your boyfriend sitting behind the driver’s seat.

“You haven’t told her any of the plans?” Seokjin looks in the rear view mirror in astonishment.

“Nope. And it stays that way.”

“Boo.”

“Lame.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Joon, it’s your birthday. Why am I the one being surprised?”

He doesn’t say anything more, giving Seokjin a knowing smile that frustrates you when he raises his eyebrows and grins in response.

You pout, “I hate you both.”

“Lying is bad for your health, princess.”

Your annoyance with the two men in the car is quickly forgotten about when Seokjin starts driving through Athens. Everything is gorgeous. You get a little giddy, driving through streets you refuse to admit to going through on Google maps, or seeing structures you’ve seen in video games.

“Princess, look out my window.” Seokjin’s hand lightly grabs at your thigh to get your attention, making you swivel around to look out his window where you can just make out a building you know you’ve climbed in an Assassin’s Creed game.

“Is that the Parthenon?!” The question is rhetoric, but your excitement is overflowing. “Holy shit, we’re actually in Greece! Can we go see the Olympic park? The observatory? Oh! Joon there’s some really cool art museums there, too! Can we go there?”

“Baby, breathe.” Your boyfriend laughs, Seokjin snickering beside you, his hand still on your thigh, “we’ll go tomorrow first thing. Today we just need to get to the hotel and get dinner.”

“How are we going to do all this in two weeks? Greece is huge.” You plop back in your seat, huffing in response.

It’s only now you notice Seokjin’s hand on your thigh, following the limb up to its owner who has his eyes switching from the road to the gps, slightly confused expression on his face in concentration. You turn your head to look at Namjoon, whose eyes are on the hand on your thigh, a soft smile he tries to hide when he realizes you’re looking.

It’s confusing. It should be Namjoon’s hand there, and yet it still feels right. You love Namjoon. Absolutely head over heels in love with him.

But in comes Seokjin. The man you’ve had a crush on for years. Who you finally found out actually had feelings for you too.

You adore Seokjin. You always will. You probably could’ve fallen in love with him if he had said anything back then. But then what would’ve happened with Namjoon? Your stomach drops at the thought.

You silently thank any and every god there is that neither you or Seokjin said anything and that you met your boyfriend. And that by some weird miracle, he’s willing to share you with no one other than Seokjin.

You’re so spaced out, you barely notice when Seokjin pulls into the parking lot of where you will be staying. It’s a gorgeous private villa, an elegant white building with a mixture of modern and Greek design. You hop out of the car while the two men grab the bags.

“You got a whole house?” You’re not sure if you’re asking Namjoon or Seokjin. But they both respond at the same time.

“Yes.”

“Yup. Privacy is priceless.” Seokjin chimes in. You roll your eyes with a smile, grabbing the key from him and unlocking the door.

“There’s three king sized beds and two smaller ones. I took one of the king ones just off the kitchen.” Seokjin guides you both through the house, bags left by the front door with your shoes, “there’s a sauna, a little gym, air conditioning thank god, and a bunch more I haven’t actually explored yet.”

“With how much we’ll be exploring, we don’t really need a sauna or a gym or anything like that. Y’all really love to go overboard.” You poke both of them in their sides, Namjoon quietly grabs your wrist while Seokjin dramatically cries out as if you’ve stabbed him.

“It’s nice to have the option, princess!” His dramatics will never cease to amuse you, “Aish, now I’m going to bruise and it’s all your fault.” He rubs his side as he walks away, heading towards the kitchen.

“Let him have the weird accommodations, baby. He’s a celebrity like that.” Namjoon speaks next to your ear, wrapping his arms around your middle and hugging you.

“He’s weird.”

“And yet…” his voice trails off, his nose nudging against your throat when he kisses your shoulder.

“And yet…” you sigh, repeating the statement back. You both silently stand in the middle of the living area, Namjoon leaving kisses across your shoulder, and you staring out the window. You can see just enough of the city of Athens, it feels like a dream.

“I’m gonna shower really quick, go keep Seokjin entertained, hmm?” Your boyfriend kisses your temple, humming when you agree. He gives your ass a light smack before he walks away, grabbing the bags and taking them to a room with a bathroom.

You find your way to the kitchen where Seokjin is holding two bottles of wine in either hand, eyes flicking back and forth on each label. He looks up when you enter, eyes scanning next to you before he pouts.

“Where's Joon?”

“Shower. Told me to entertain you.” You shrug, walking with a little skip over to him. He smirks as you hop up on the island counter, placing the bottles of wine on the main counter away from you.

“And how do you plan on entertaining me, princess?” His tone teases and you shrug once again, kicking your feet out a little as you rest your palms on the counter’s edge.

“I dunno. How would you like to be entertained?” You know where this is going, you haven’t seen or felt him in over two months. You miss him. So much.

And he has clearly missed you just as much when he grabs your kicking feet, moving them to spread your legs so he can stand between them. One of his hands finds the back of your head, fingers curling in your hair, as he brings your lips to his.

It’s slow and deep, but it quickly turns heated and desperate when his head turns to the side to gain better access. Your lips part and you let out a soft moan that he quickly swallows, tongues fighting against one another as he keeps his fingers tangled in your hair and the other hand gripping your hip tight.

Your hands stay cradling his face, desperate to remember how he feels when kissing you so desperately.

“God, princess, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

“Me too.” You pant between kisses.

“How often I look at those photos you sent me or the videos Joon sent of you taking his cock so deep. It fucking killed me every time.”

“Jin.” You moan when his lips trail down to your clavicle.

“I don’t need to see old buildings or art or any of that, I’d rather spend the next two weeks fucking you with Namjoon.” He curses against your skin, your dress’s straps falling off your shoulder. Your breasts are so close to spilling out, if not for a third voice causing you both to jump, you pulling the straps back up to cover yourself.

“As much as I would like to have two weeks to fuck our baby stupid, I didn’t plan this trip for that.” Namjoon gives a mischievous smirk. You know he might not have planned for that. But he did plan something. You just don’t know what.

“As long as I get to taste her at some point.” Seokjin says, smiling up at you as he speaks to your boyfriend.

“You will, but for now she should shower the plane off of her and get ready for dinner.”

You nod, sighing as you tap Seokjin’s arms to let go of you. He backs away, letting you hop down and toward your boyfriend who grabs your waist as you walk by, tugging you to stand in front of him.

“Be a good girl, and you’ll get rewarded.” He whispers, kissing your forehead. You give him a playful glare, stepping to the side and walking past him, towards the bathroom he used.

You shower quickly, changing into another summer dress, this one a mix of green and blue chiffon with beautiful off-shoulder straps that fall perfectly in place just below your shoulders. Even though it’s about five in the evening, it’s still ridiculously hot. You put barely any makeup on, fixing your hair up to stop yourself from sweating down your back.

When you return to the kitchen, Namjoon is bothering Seokjin while he’s focused on pouring the three of you some wine, making sure it’s an equal amount for each of you. What takes you by surprise, however, is Namjoon’s chin resting on his friend’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around his middle like he does with you.

Oh.

Suddenly it makes sense.

“There she is!” Seokjin’s voice pipes through the kitchen. Namjoon slowly backs away from Seokjin’s back, grabbing two glasses of wine and bringing one to you.

“You look stunning, baby.”

“Thank you. It’s too hot.” You pout, taking the wine and giving a small thanks. You join him and Seokjin back in the kitchen where he’s prepared a little plate of snacks to go with the wine.

“That’s Greece. I don’t think it’s ever cold?” Namjoon shrugs, taking a sip of his wine.

“I bet it’s like LA. Maybe cold like once or twice a year.” Seokjin pops a cracker into his mouth. You share a look with Namjoon, both of you snickering.

“Oh, look at this fancy boy, saying LA like it’s so casual for him.” You tease, taking a big sip of the wine.

“Ha ha ha. Keep being jealous.” He deadpans.

“Me? Jealous? Of your exhausting life? Absolutely not, handsome. I like being in Seoul where I sleep and eat and the only traveling I do is to various museums and art galleries for work.”

“Ah, yes. Our little curator. That’s how you stole her from the world, right Namjoon?”

“I didn’t steal her.”

“More like held me hostage.”

“In bed I assume?”

“Of course. Then I think it became some sort of Stockholm Syndrome and I fell in love.”

“A true romance right there. Can I tell that story at the wedding?”

“Please. I’ll write it all down for you.”

“Thank you, princess. I’ll memorize it and give the best performance.”

“I know you will.”

“God, I forgot what it’s like when you two get together.” Namjoon groans, leaning over the counter to bury his head in his arms. You look over at Seokjin in feigned shock.

“I feel like he’s being rude and offensive.”

“So rude. So offensive.”

“Extremely.”

“I thought you loved us!” Seokjin exclaims dramatically, hand on chest and fake tears starting to build up.

“I do!” He laughs almost manically, lifting his head up and running his fingers through his hair. “It’s like you’re twins or something, it’s so much.”

You giggle, leaning across the counter to soothe your boyfriend.

“We’ll tone it down a bit, babe. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” Seokjin shrugs, a smug look on his face. He exclaims when you lightly hit his shoulder, “What? He said he loves me! I’m over the fucking moon right now.”

All three of you laugh, finishing up your wine and snack grazing. Seokjin orders a cab for the three of you to take to a fancy restaurant by the beach where there’s even more wine. Multiple bottles of it.

You barely remember the dinner, only remembering that the wine kept coming and resulted in both men having their hands on you the entire night. Whether it was Namjoon’s hands on your waist while standing in a crowd, or Seokjin’s hand clutching yours tight while guiding you through the masses of people.

The light touches on your arms at dinner or your thighs in the car, they both knew what they were doing to you and fully aware of the hold they had on you.

At one point, you ended up in a square that had people performing live music and people dancing to it. Seokjin dragged you and Namjoon to the makeshift dance floor, making you dance with your back against his chest and Namjoon facing you. Your hips swayed perfectly against Seokjin’s, pressing just right against his cock while Namjoon’s was pressing against your lower stomach.

Both men covered either side of your neck with kisses, really testing your ability to not moan in public. It took you mumbling something about going home for them to stop, quickly getting a ride back to the private villa.

The moment you hit the mattress, Namjoon has you splayed out on the bed, your summer dress riding dangerously high up your legs. Seokjin stands at the edge of the bed, quietly taking his shirt and pants off.

Namjoon, still fully clothed minus his shoes, crawls over your body, deeply kissing you while his hand roams your entire body. His lips trail down your neck to your shoulder where he stops for a moment. It’s when he lets out a heavy sigh that you feel a sense of panic.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m too drunk.”

“What?”

“I can barely stay awake, baby.” He rolls off you, laying on his side while he hugs a pillow.

“But…”

“Jinnie can take care of you. Right, hyung?” He barely opens his eyes to look at the older male, who looks just as confused as you do. “You just can’t fuck her though. Have her ride your thigh. That should do it.”

His eyes fall shut and you sit up, not sure what to do next. You look over to Seokjin, who’s looking at you for confirmation of what to do next, standing there in his underwear that’s straining his cock right now.

“Should we go to your room?” You ask tentatively, moving to get up when he nods.

“No.” Namjoon’s voice returns from its slumber. “I wanna hear it. Do it here.”

“Joonie, you’re tired.” You try to reason, but you know for a fact you’d rather do it here than without him there.

“Here or not at all, baby.” His tired groan sounds serious, so you nod again, bending over to kiss his cheek, a small dimple appearing from his smile.

“I love you, Joonie.”

“Love you too.”

You turn back to Seokjin, a hand reaching out that he quickly takes, pulling you up to meet his standing position with your knees on the bed.

“We don’t have to.” He murmurs, fingers delicately tangling with yours while his other hand finds your waist, bunching up the fabric there.

You shake your head, leaning forward to softly meet his lips with yours. Kissing Seokjin is an experience every time. His plush pout’s ability to take over the kiss, and the moans he makes when you tug on his bottom lip with your teeth to try to regain control, makes you want to crumble into a pile of goo.

“I need something, anything, Jinnie. Please?”

You rarely call Seokjin by the nickname Namjoon and Yoongi gave him years ago. You could probably count on one hand how many times you’ve said it. While it was a loving joke type of nickname from the guys, it always felt almost too intimate coming from you. So you have always stuck with Jin.

Seokjin sighs, smiling at your adorable pouty expression. He whispers okay before leaning in to kiss you again, “what princess wants, princess gets.”

Giant hands maneuver you so he can lay down. When you twist your body to straddle his lap while facing him, the big hands still your hips.

“Ride my face.”

Funny how three little words can make your entire body feel like it’s on fire.

You quickly look over to Namjoon who has his eyes closed, pillow tucked against his chest, but there’s a smile there that you know was in response to Seokjin’s order.

You huff out, moving to crawl further up Seokjin’s body, but you’re stopped again when you’re just about over his face.

“Turn around.”

“What?”

“If I can’t fuck you right now, I need your mouth to remind me what it can do.”

You nod, afraid if you speak, it’ll be mushed up nonsense, and turn around, getting on your hands and knees facing away from Seokjin. His hands grab your upper thighs and tug you closer to his face, making you gasp and almost fall forward when you lose balance on your hands.

“The dress has to go, y/n.” He gives your ass a light squeeze and you quickly rid the dress from your body. Jin lets out a low hum of approval at your matching bra and underwear; a deep crimson red and satin set.

“Every time…” he says under his breath, hooking his fingers into the side of your underwear and pulling it to your knees. You awkwardly lift one so he can move the underwear off it, not caring about the other leg.

You palm Seokjin’s cock through his briefs, smiling softly at the sound he makes.

You don’t hear his response, only gasping when he tugs your lower half down to meet those plush lips of his as he licks a long stripe through your folds, lips wrapping around your clit.

“Fuck, Jin.” You whimper, head dropping to his hip as you slowly rut against his face. His hand smacks the side of your thigh, making you still.

“Let me take care of you, princess.” He says, almost as a warning.

You nod, forgetting he can’t see you, and lift your head up. With one of your shaking hands, you free his cock from the confines of his briefs, momentarily laughing when he tries to kick the fabric off his body.

A harsh suck against your clit stops you from laughing.

You pull yourself together again, wrapping your fingers around his impressive length. You fondly remember when you saw it for the first time last Christmas. You wanted so badly to touch it, hold it in your palm to feel how heavy it was. But there was a desperate need the first time you were with him. Now, nine months later, you had all the time in the world.

Leaning down, you kiss the tip of his cock, enjoying the way it twitches at the contact followed by Seokjin’s light moan. You do it a few more times, on the tip, down the shaft, a kiss or two lands on his balls. Each kiss earns a twitch or a groan. Just as his tongue dives deep in your folds, you gather enough spit to trickle past your lips and onto his cock, using your hand to spread it around before slowly lowering your mouth down his now leaking member.

You let his cock prod the back of your throat for a moment, thanking whatever gods that you barely have a gag reflex, and hum around him. Your nails dig into his thighs as he groans against your center, a hand smacking your ass.

“Princess, what the fuck are you doing to me.”

His hips buck up, his cock somehow finding its way deeper down your throat. You cough, fighting the urge to pull off as his hips continue to buck up, your hands finding the bedding to brace yourself as he fucks your throat. You whine when two fingers ease past your folds, curling inside of you to press against your walls.

It’s not long after that, that you’re crying, coming around his fingers and tongue and whining around his cock. Seconds later, he’s coming as well, bitter liquid shooting down your throat.

You’re so lost in focusing on swallowing and not choking that you don’t hear the small breath of a laugh coming from your boyfriend.

Seokjin, however, heard perfectly.

“Ya, your girl’s a menace.”

You lift your throat off his cock, taking slow but short breaths as you look over at your boyfriend whose eyes travel from your lips down to his best friend’s soaked cock, some cum still coated around him.

You glance down at the wet spot at his crotch.

“Are you still too tired?” Your voice rasps. He nods, but your eyes stay locked on his crotch.

Seokjin pats your ass, signaling for you to crawl off just enough that he can get off the bed.

“I’m gonna shower and head to bed. Tomorrow we will explore Athens.” He gives you a kiss on the cheek before turning to the door and heading to his room. You smile, turning back to your boyfriend who has his eyes barely opened, watching you. Your eyes go back to the wet patch.

“Let me take care of you, Joonie.”

“Baby…”

“Please?”

“I’m fine, baby. Come to bed.” Sighing, you lay down next to him, your leg finding its way between his as you lean in just enough, connecting your lips to his. He moans deeply, tasting Seokjin on your tongue. Your suspicions are confirmed as you feel the bulge in his pants move underneath you.

“You sure you don’t want me to take care of that?” You tease against his lips. Your hand sneaks between you both, but is quickly grabbed by Namjoon’s.

“Yes, baby. I’m sure.” He smiles, eyes shut as he brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your fingers briefly. “Sleep.”

You murmur defeat, getting off the bed to brush your teeth and change into a large shirt to sleep in. When you come back to bed, Namjoon is fast asleep on his back, his arm splayed out waiting for you. You pout, crawling into bed and curling up against his side. The moment your head rests on his shoulder, his arm moves on instinct to wrap around your back, thumb moving back and forth against your shoulder.

It’s not until you’re at the edge of falling asleep that you realize this is the first time Namjoon let you be with Seokjin without claiming you after or being the one to make you come last.

Athens is beautiful. You spent the first three days simply wandering around the ancient city, going from ruin to ruin and museum to museum.

This is how you met Namjoon. You were part of the opening of a new museum in Seoul and Yoongi dragged Namjoon as his plus one. You both immediately hit it off and have been in love ever since.

Yoongi demanded to be one to marry you both, getting ordained on your one year anniversary just in case.

Museums and art galleries quickly became your thing with Namjoon. While it was a part of your job to constantly be in museums and galleries, it’s your dream job for a reason. And what could be better than finding someone who loves your job as much as you do?

Seokjin, however, never showed any particular interest in museums or art in general. Sure, he’d go and take pictures either of or in front of the art, post it to socials, and come up with some horrible dad joke. But he couldn’t stand the idea of spending hours walking around looking at things from years and years ago.

But you have to give him brownie points, he persevered the few days in Athens, knowing there would be wine and delicious food at the end of it all. And potentially a blow job from you.

Namjoon still refused you both from actual sex, making you and Seokjin pout or whine. Seokjin almost begged one night, much to Namjoon’s delight, but he still said no.

After Athens, the three of you packed your bags and boarded a boat to head to the next stop in Greece. Seokjin was beyond excited, Namjoon had a smug smile the entire way over, and you were completely clueless.

That is, until you stepped off the boat onto a wooden deck and it clicked immediately.

“Is this…?”

“Where they filmed Mamma Mia? Yes. Yes it is.” Namjoon replies, helping Seokjin off the boat after you.

“Ahhh, it’s even prettier in person!” Seokjin's voice squeaks, running to stand next to you, hand grabbing yours.

You grin, trying to avoid screaming like you want to. Mamma Mia has and always will be one of your favorite films. It’s your comfort movie and you and Seokjin would watch it consistently when either of you had a shitty day. You’d always end up standing on the couch or coffee table dramatically singing along with the ABBA songs or quoting the movie and acting them out while it played in the background.

Still holding Seokjin’s hand, you turn to your boyfriend, who’s making sure all the luggage is accounted for.

“Oh, right. Sorry, Joonie.” You drag Seokjin back to Namjoon, both of you grabbing as much luggage as you can and following the other tourists off the dock.

Again, Seokjin arranged for a private villa. This one, however is smaller, only has one bed as well as a couch, and no air conditioning.

The first two days aren't a problem. The weather is cool, the clouds covering the sun a majority of the day, and an amazing ocean breeze to make you shiver every now and again. The three of you travel around the island, you and Seokjin giggling every time you find a spot from the movie and having Namjoon take a photo of the both of you mid-reenactment.

During the third and last day on Skopelos, however, there was a heat wave. And it is miserable to put it nicely.

So miserable, none of you want to move. Seokjin is groaning that Greece isn't going anywhere. And you are complaining that days like this are why Google Street View exists. Namjoon is huffy at you both, deciding to go for a run while you two lie around, complaining about the heat.

It is on his run, however, when a perfect idea pops into his head as he sees some locals with frozen treats.

When he comes in, he finds you lying on the tile floor, your flowy summer dress draped around your body and the floor, and Seokjin on the couch, one leg dangling off the edge and the other off the back of the couch. You both look ridiculous as Namjoon heads to the kitchen.

“Jooooooonie, can you make the fan do more?”

It’s a silly question to ask, you know the answer. But you have hope.

“Nope, baby. Sorry.” He answers, head in the freezer. “I have a better idea, though. Hyung, come here.”

He groans, throwing himself off the couch dramatically and playfully stomping his way to Namjoon in the kitchen. He’s about to speak when the two exchange glances. Seokjin glances down at the bowl in his hand and grins, nodding quickly as if to agree to Namjoon’s silent question.

“Princess.”

“Baby.”

They speak at the same time, causing you to tilt your head backwards, looking at the upside down men quizzically.

“Hmm?”

How’s the tile down there?” Your boyfriend asks, hands behind his back.

“It’s cooler than the bed.” You answer slowly as Seokjin sits behind you, Namjoon moving to sit in front of you.

“Wanna play a game?”

“You wouldn’t let me bring my switch, so we can’t unless there’s one here…”

“No. Princess. A game.”

It takes a second to process, but when it finally clicks, Namjoon’s already starting to spread your legs, the dress’s fabric falling to your hips.

“Joonie, it’s too hot…”

“Right. It is way too hot. Which is why I want to play a game.”

You question what he means, allowing Seokjin to lift your head and shoulders enough to tuck himself underneath you, letting your upper torso and your head to rest against chest

“I just wanna help you cool down, baby.” He smirks, bringing the bowl into view for you to see what he means. It’s a small but deep bowl full of ice cubes and pieces alike.

Fuck.

You’re not sure if you say it in your mind or out loud. Possibly out loud since both men grin wide, snickering as Namjoon spreads your legs further. You relax into Seokjin’s chest, his hands finding the bottom of your dress and shimmying it up your torso. You lift your ass off the ground ever so slightly so he can pull the dress further up until he fully removes it, tossing it to the side.

“Gonna be a good girl for us, princess?” Seokjin smiles, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“What are the rules?” You ask softly, your hands finding Seokjin’s forearms resting on your shoulders.

“The rules, baby, are simple.” Namjoon grins, picking up one of the ice cubes, holding it in his fist to help it melt down a bit.

“Move, and we stop. Come before we say so, and we stop.”

“I don’t like those rules.” You pout, Namjoon rolls his eyes, ignoring you while Seokjin snickers.

“There’s our princess being a brat.”

“Those are the rules, baby. Follow them and you get rewarded.”

“What’s the reward?”

Namjoon looks up to Seokjin, eyebrows raised at Seokjin’s questioning gaze.

“It’s a surprise.” He finally answers, putting the ice cube back in the bowl and trailing his frozen cold hand up your body. You shiver, fighting the urge to pull away from the freezing hand.

“I like to know what I’m winning.” You grumble through chattering teeth, your boyfriend's hand softly gliding up your waist to behind your back.

“I know you do, baby. And I promise you, you’ll feel so fulfilled after.” He whispers, undoing the clasp on your bra.

“Joon.” You whine, fingers digging into Seokjin’s arms after your bra gets removed.

“Ready, baby?”

You nod, hating his teasing tone.

He grabs the ice cube again, it already melting in his palm as he hovers his hand above your chest. All three of you wait as the little drop of freezing water develops under his grip, slowly getting ready to drip down.

You feel yourself breathing harder, chest rising faster as you watch the droplet. When it finally drops, it feels like a spike of ice landing

But before the drop can land on your skin, Namjoon’s pulling it away again.

“New rule. Close your eyes, baby.”

You whine again, body wiggling in anticipation.

“Eyes, princess. Let us make you feel good.” Seokjin whispers against your temple. You nod, shutting your eyes tight and leaning further back into Seokjin’s embrace.

Not even seconds later, you feel a drop of water drip on your chest between your breasts.

“Fuck!” You yelp, body lifting off the ground from the initial shock.

“Already breaking the rules, baby. Stay still or we stop.” Namjoon’s deep voice teases as another few drops land across your chest.

“Okay. Okay okay okay.” You nod, keeping your eyes shut as you grip onto Seokjin’s arms even more to stay still.

You have no idea where the ice is going to be next, your body tensing in preparation for another jolt of cold against your skin. It’s almost torture how long between drops Namjoon lets it be before you feel a full cube against the bottom curve of your breast.

You let out a high pitched whine, forcing yourself to stay still as he glides the ice all around your breasts, to across your clavicle, down the sides of your waist and across your middle section. Your breathing returns to rapid breaths, shivering with goosebumps as well as just pure arousal.

You can’t tell what’s turning you on more; the frozen water being softly dragged across your sensitive skin, or the melted water that remains in its path, dripping down your sides and making its way to your back.

Opposite of the freezing ice, however, is how hot Seokjin’s skin feels behind you. It almost feels like the ice dripping behind you is evaporating the moment it makes contact with his skin.

It’s too hot.

But you want more.

Need more.

The last piece of ice melts directly over your belly button, your breath stuttering when Namjoon’s hand goes flat across your stomach, gliding up to between your breasts and around your throat.

“Good girl. Ready for more?”

You whimper out a yes, your legs subconsciously spreading further for him, like your body begging where to go next.

“Remember. No movements, princess.” Seokjin teases, having noticed your legs.

You huff out in complaint, but it quickly turns into a shaking gasp when there’s an ice cube tracing up your inner thigh. Namjoon skips over where you want it most, dragging the cube to your other thigh and back up to your lower stomach, dancing the cube along the waistline of your underwear.

“Joonie, please.”

“Please what?”

“I hate the teasing.” You pout petulantly, head twisting to the side to bury your face in Seokjin’s arm. You’re desperately trying to ignore the hardening bulge pressing up against your back.

“Mmmm, I’d say otherwise, baby. You’re soaking through. I mean, hyung just look at how soak—”

A string of curse words leave your lips, unable to hear anything the men are teasing about, when Namjoon presses a cube directly over the wet patch of your underwear, fitting perfectly against your folds and your clit.

“Ya! No biting!” Seokjin’s voice yells, prying your mouth away from his bicep.

Namjoon pulls the ice away, giving your clothed center a light smack. Your hips jerk from the sensation, fighting back the urge to open your eyes.

“‘M sorry, Jin.” You whimper, kissing where you think you bit.

“I don’t know if I should forgive you, princess. That was a very bad thing to do.”

“No no, I’ll be good. Please.”

There’s silence. With the inability to see them, you can’t tell if they’re silently discussing whether to punish or reward you.

“I feel like she’s been through enough, Joonie. Maybe we should just stop here.”

“She can take more.”

“I can. I can do it. Please.”

“What’s the word, baby?”

“Wendigo.” You let out a breathless laugh, the two men snickering at the memory.

Namjoon taps your hip, telling you to lift so he can remove your underwear, tossing it aside with your dress. You feel movement down between your legs before you feel a sudden warm breath, making your toes curl.

“Remember, princess. No movement.”

You nod vigorously, clutching onto Seokjin again when Namjoon’s warm tongue licks a full stroke up your folds, the tip teasingly dancing against your clit.

He’s vicious with the way he teases you, breathing against your soaked center with his hot breath before bringing the melting cube to your clit when he can feel you’re close. Your constant moans and cries only encourage him further as he pops the cube into his mouth, settling it below his tongue, and dancing it at your entrance. The switch between warm tongue and ice cube is infuriating to say the least.

“You’re being such a good girl, princess. I think Joonie might reward you soon.” Seokjin’s deep voice against your ear sends a different kind of shiver down your spine.

Namjoon’s mouth pulls away from your throbbing center, giving your inner thigh a light kiss. You take a deep breath, eyes still shut, as you wait for whatever pleasurable torture was next.

But nothing happens.

Nothing happens for what feels like eternity but, in reality, it’s only a minute or two before you feel your boyfriend’s body move away from you. The sounds of shuffling as well as Seokjin letting you go slack against his body.

“Do you trust me, baby?” Namjoon’s voice comes from where you think the kitchen is located. You nod, muttering out of course while leaning further into Seokjin’s chest.

“Let’s move her to the couch, hyung. Baby, keep your eyes shut.” Seokjin does as he’s told, lifting you up carefully and bringing you to stand in front of the couch. It sounds like more ice is being put into the ceramic bowl. Your body shakes at the thought.

“Sit, hyung.” When you hear movement to the left of you, you can only assume Seokjin’s following orders.

“Jagi…” Namjoon’s voice is suddenly right in front of you, a big cold hand softly caressing your waist. The temperature makes you jump, but you settle into it immediately.

“I think hyung was right, you deserve a reward. I’m gonna sit you down on hyung’s cock, and you’re gonna be good and take it all, right?”

You nod again, pouting slightly when he reminds you to keep your eyes closed as he leads you back. Your hands reach behind you, finding Seokjin’s immediately as he and Namjoon help you onto the couch. They sit you down on Seokjin’s lap, your legs spread and hooked on either side of his thighs. Seokjin lets go of one of your hands to wrap around his cock, giving himself a few pumps before his tip meets your entrance.

“Ready, princess?”

“Please.” You beg, head falling back when he presses the tip past your folds, slowly easing himself inside of you.

“Good job, baby. Keep taking his cock, take every inch.” Namjoon’s praises sound like they’re coming from below you, but you’re not sure, unable to focus as you try to relax around Seokjin’s massive length.

Once you give the okay to Seokjin, he sinks down on the couch a bit more, bringing you back to plant your feet on the cushion so his hips are free to move at the pace he knows drives you crazy.

You cry out, it’s been months since you’ve had him inside you and it feels so fucking good, you could write poems and songs about how good his cock feels filling and stretching you out with every thrust.

“Fuck, please. Please let me come. Feels too good. Plea— oh, fuck.” Your body jolts at the sudden feeling of ice against the junction where your pelvis meets your thigh. Seokjin’s hands quickly steady you, massive hands holding your waist still while he continues to fuck you.

The moans you make are pornographic as the ice cube slides around your skin, gliding and dancing around your pulsing clit that when he finally brings it there, you let out a sharp gasp. You bite your bottom lip, trying to fight the curses you want to scream at the top of your lungs.

Namjoon quickly removes the cube from against your sensitive bundle of nerves, questioning Seokjin for permission to something you can’t hear because you’re too focused on Seokjin’s cock hitting exactly where it needs to.

When you hear Seokjin whine, saying yes, he slows down his thrusts, hands bringing your waist down to sit on his lap with his cock fully inside of your clenching walls.

You resist asking them what they’re doing, knowing it’s pointless. You lean your head against Seokjin’s shoulder, facing his neck as your lips find skin.

You’re about to press soft kisses against the skin when a sharp bolt of ice courses through your body.

Your eyes snap open, looking down at where you and Seokjin are connected and you nearly come just from the sight of Namjoon’s tongue shoving a small mostly melted ice cube past your entrance and against the bulging vein around Seokjin’s cock.

Your boyfriend’s tongue is on your best friend’s dick.

Okay, maybe it’s not on his dick, but it’s close enough to just graze over that counts.

The fingers holding onto your waist dig deep into your skin as Seokjin groans at the feeling of the ice cube being kept inside of you by his dick.

You whine, head leaning back again and shutting your eyes once more as you feel the cube, melting fast, make its way inside of you, being eased deeper by the head of Seokjin’s cock.

“How’s it feel, baby?” Your boyfriend’s voice rumbles against your skin as he sits up on his knees, large hands on your thighs, watching the way you take Seokjin’s cock.

“So fucking good.” You whimper.

“Fucking heaven.” Seokjin whines behind you, hips beginning to lose their rhythm, teeth grazing your neck. “I won’t last long, fuck it’s so impossible to last long with you, y/n.”

You let out a soft laugh, a moan mixing through it, as you reach behind you, tugging Seokjin’s hair to pull his face back to yours, trapping him in a kiss.

“Come for me, Jin. Fill me up. Please.” You repeat your request against his lips until you’re wincing from his teeth catching your bottom lip and one last thrust. The sensation of his cum filling you up makes you both moan.

Namjoon’s hands help you lift yourself just enough that Seokjin’s cock slips out, but he quickly stands, leaning over you both on the couch, and slides himself past your entrance, stuffing his hyung’s cum back inside.

“Joon!” You cry out, hands flying away from Seokjin and grasping Namjoon’s forearms.

“Take his cock, princess. Gotta keep all my cum in there.” Seokjin’s strained voice comes from behind you. One hand barely helps to hold you up as the other sneaks away and you hear that damn ceramic bowl with ice being moved around.

“Don’t you dare.” You mumble, immediately feeling Seokjin laugh under you.

“I thought you could take it, y/n?” Seokjin teases, grasping an ice cube and tracing it along your waist. You gasp, trying to move your body away from the sensation, but Namjoon tugs you back on top of the older man as he starts thrusting.

Seokjin’s fingers trail the cube up your waist, alongside your ribs, just below your breasts, before finally bringing it to one of your nipples. Your back attempts to arch, but Seokjin’s other hand forces you back down from your stomach until you’re fully lying on him, no longer hovering.

It’s a chaotic mix of teasing, pleasure, and pain as Namjoon’s thumb starts circling your clit as he pounds into you at the same time as Seokjin’s ice trails along your skin. You barely give a warning before you’re crying out over your orgasm, body shaking and trying to grab onto anything you can.

It’s only seconds later you feel Namjoon’s cock twitch inside of you, making you feel more full than before.

You wake up to the sounds of Seokjin snoring behind you. Eyes opening wide in panic when he lets out a rather loud one that almost sounds like he’s choking. You try to turn over to check on him, but you’re being held down by one of his arms.

When your eyes open, you’re met with Namjoon’s closed ones, silently sleeping. He’s hugging his pillow tight, somehow unaware of the loud snores behind you.

Or so you think.

You try moving again, freezing instantly when Namjoon’s eyes open, a soft smile forming.

“Hey, beautiful.” He whispers softly, his voice gravelly from the slumber.

“Hi?”

“How you feeling?” His question confuses you.

You feel fine. But you last remember Namjoon coming inside of you and that’s it.

“Good? I don’t…remember what happened.” You try shuffling close to your boyfriend, but Seokjin’s hold on you is tight. Namjoon lets out a soft giggle, scooting closer to you instead.

“You kinda passed out…?” His eyebrows raise a little, smile starting to form into a small laugh, “not like anything bad. But, after I came, you were a little loopy? It was amusing. We took care of you though. Cleaned you up and everything.”

“Hmm. I genuinely don’t remember, but thank you, baby.”

“Where’s my thank you.” The voice behind you grumbles against your skin. You and Namjoon laugh as you twist your face into the pillow, muffling yourself.

“Thank you, Jinnie” your voice drowns in the pillow.

“Namjoon should thank me too. I was super helpful.”

You laugh into the pillow.

“I take thank yous in kisses, please and thank you.” He snickers. You shake your head, twisting your body to face him now.

“Shut up, hyung.” Namjoon sighs, his hand rubbing up against your waist.

Seokjin’s so pretty when he wakes up. His face is a little extra puffy, but it’s so cute. You love it.

“I’ll get my kiss from him one day.” He pouts.

“One day. I believe in it.” You grin, leaning in to give him an obnoxious kiss, pulling away with a loud mwah sound.

The three of you laze around the rest of the day, only going out to get dinner before returning to sleep.

The next day, the three of you make the trip to the final destination: Mykonos.

It’s an island you had discussed early on in the relationship. Your typical Greece imagery of gorgeous waters, all white buildings and blue trim, beautiful beaches all around. Everything about it was perfect in the images you looked at. But it’s nothing compared to seeing it in person.

You guys have the last four days here to just relax and enjoy the beaches.

The day before Namjoon’s birthday, the three of you all separate to do different things. You stay inside, having some work stuff come up that you can't avoid. Seokjin decides to lounge on the deck of the villa you are staying in. It has stairs leading down straight onto the beach. There is a running path just off to the side and Namjoon decides to go see how much of the island he can cover (not much, but he does try).

When you finally finish up with work (you’re going to fight with Taehyung when you get back for directing the issue he could’ve easily fixed to you, knowing full well you are on vacation), you change into a bathing suit, throwing an oversized shirt (whether it’s Namjoon’s or Seokjin’s, you’ll never know) on over it and walk out onto the deck.

You’ll never get over Seokjin without a shirt.

He’s leaning over the balcony, in only shorts as his broad shoulders are on full display. The dimples in his back as well as the way his shoulder blades move when he shifts in place is enough to send shivers down your spine.

You lean against the railing while standing next to him, staying quiet while he’s on the phone, having some sort of back and forth with who you assume is his manager. You’re quickly distracted by the beautiful blue waves rolling in to notice Seokjin repositioning to stand behind you, resting his chin on your head while he continues his phone call.

“Yeah. I should be back in a few days and then I was hoping to stay in Seoul a few days before New York…but I guess that’s not happening?”

You pout when he sighs, saying he understands and hanging up. The phone is tucked away in his back pocket while his arms snake around your waist.

“Already have to go back to work?”

He nods, moving down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Unfortunately. They actually wanted me to come back tonight but I told him to fuck off.”

“No you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t. But I did politely say no and made a compromise to come back asap.”

“You’re too nice to them.” You pout, watching a couple playing in the ocean waves, “They overwork you. I miss you. Namjoon misses you.”

“I miss you too, princess. I miss you and Joon every time I’m away.”

“Wanna stay here forever.” It’s a soft mumble, but you know he hears it when he hums in agreement, turning his head to kiss your cheek. You turn your face to him, letting your lips meet in a slow, deep, kiss.

Again, there’s nothing quite like kissing Seokjin. Namjoon is the love of your life and always will be, but there’s just something about Seokjin’s lips that you crave constantly. Something about the way he holds you both delicately and possessively. Or the way he looks at you after a kiss, like he’s just as lost in it as you are. Like he’s trying to figure out the answer to the question you’ve been asking since that weekend in the Swiss mountains.

He uses his tongue to tease your lips apart, making you gasp through a moan as he turns you around to face him, hands gripping your waist.

“Jinnie” you whine, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. His lips trail down your jaw to that special spot between your neck and shoulder.

“I’m sorry, y/n. We shouldn’t unless Namjoon’s around. But,” he leaves a small love bite on your shoulder, “you just have this effect on me. I can’t help it.”

You nod, moaning when you tug on his hair, making him suck harder on your skin. You’re going to be covered in bruises and hickies when you get home. You don’t care.

“What’d I miss?” Namjoon’s voice breaks you two apart, but only barely. Seokjin’s lips place soft kisses on your cheek and forehead while you look at the man you love.

“Jin told his manager to fuck off and wait until his vacation is over.”

“No he didn’t.”

“See?” You look at Seokjin, a playful smile and raised eyebrow, “you’re too nice.”

“I have to be. Or it ruins my reputation and makes me look like I’m difficult to work with.”

“But you are difficult to work with.”

“I take it back. I don’t miss you. I only miss Namjoon.” He jokingly shoves you away, stepping to move behind Namjoon, getting on his tiptoes to put his chin on the younger’s shoulder. “You’re too tall.” He grumbles, wrapping his arms around Namjoon’s middle.

Namjoon smirks, hands holding onto Seokjin’s forearms to keep him there.

“Well, I still think you’re too nice. You guys have fun. I’m going to get in the water.” You laugh, heading down the steps to the beach. You hear snickers, turning back briefly to see Namjoon turning in Seokjin’s arms to face him.

You look back towards the beach, allowing them privacy even though that word barely exists with you three.

The water is perfect. It’s not cold like the Pacific Ocean, not weirdly warm like the Atlantic. It’s a perfect balance.

You let your feet sink into the sand, the gentle waves slowly bringing you closer to the ocean as the sand keeps you still.

You love it here.

You love your job, love your life, love your friends, family, and your boyfriend.

But here? With not only your boyfriend but the man you crushed on for years that you now have the privilege to be with along with your boyfriend? For two whole weeks?

That’s heaven.

It’s felt right these two weeks with them. Any time it’s been just you and Namjoon, it’s been perfect as usual, but it always feels like something is missing.

Or rather someone.

You’re not sure how long you’re out here, staring at the horizon. The sand is halfway up your calves and the waves are hitting your upper thighs by the time two large arms wrap around your middle, body draping over your back as lips find refuge on your neck.

You smile, sighing as you relax in his hold, tilting your head to the opposite side so he has better access.

“Where’s my Jagi right now?” Namjoon’s voice barely breaks above the waves, only enough because it’s right by your ear.

“Thinking.”

“About?” His nose nudges under your ear.

“Us.” You pause when you feel him tense, “us and Jin.”

“What about us and Jin?” His body relaxes, but barely. You use his hold on you as support as you pull your feet from the sand, both of you stepping a little further from the ocean when you turn to face him.

“What is this to you, Joon?” Your arms snake around his neck, fingers dancing through his hair there. “Or rather, what is Jin? I know last year he was my present or whatever, but…that was nine months ago. And after all the texts with photos and videos and the times we’ve been with him…I don’t know. I need some sort of understanding before this gets too much.”

Namjoon’s eyes stay steady on you the entire time, the hands sitting on your waist, holding you gently, yet firm enough to keep you still. His thumbs rubbing circles through the shirt.

“Too much, how?” Is all he asks.

“I…I don’t know. Too much like he’s part of this? Too much like my crush from before you comes back and causes issues?”

“How would that cause issues, Jagi?”

“I don’t want to choose…”

“Baby,” Namjoon smirks, leaning in to kiss your forehead, “there is nothing to choose. I’m yours forever and if you want him, too…as long as he wants you back…I’m pretty sure I’ve done nothing but show you I’m very okay with sharing you.”

“That’s nice and all and I love you for that,” you pull away from him just slightly, forcing him to look at you again, “but what about you? What is this to you? It can’t just be me with two boyfriends. I mean, it can. But…what about you and Jin?”

And that’s where his confidence falters, for just a moment, you see it in his eyes and the way his lips twitch.

He comes up with nothing when his mouth opens to speak, face contorting almost into confusion.

“Joon? You okay?”

“Yeah…I just…” you let him pause, finding the right words as his eyes flit behind you to the crashing waves. It’s hard to bite back the smile when you try to soothe whatever worries he seems to have by massaging his nape. His eyes close momentarily before opening again, landing on your own.

“I don’t know yet. But…I think there’s something…between him and I, I mean.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods slowly, eyes back on the ocean, “I just don’t know what exactly it is. If it’s just because of you or if it’s something else entirely? It’s confusing.”

“It’s okay, Joon. You don’t need to figure anything out right this second, but we should all sit down and figure this out at some point…maybe not tomorrow, though.”

“Why not tomorrow?” His head tilts to the side, looking back at you.

“Your birthday? The whole reason we went on this trip?”

It takes two seconds of silence before he starts fully laughing, having to back away from you to bend over.

“I’ll be one hundred percent honest, I totally forgot.”

…

“You can’t be serious.”

“I was just treating it like a vacation with my best friend and my girlfriend.”

“Oh my god, Kim Namjoon. You’re an actual goober!” You playfully smack his shoulder, laughing with him. He takes the perfect opportunity to launch himself at you, bending slightly to pick you up by your thighs. You both laugh as your legs wrap around his waist, arms around his shoulders again.

It’s a playful series of events, he threatens to lean forward, dumping you into the waves, you returning the threat with your own of no skin contact for a month, and just all around cuteness between you both that you’d be lying if you said wasn’t one of your favorite things about him. He’s so serious at work, so serious in most social situations. Except for with you, where he can be himself; laughing, dancing badly, making really terrible dad jokes, and just being your Namjoon.

That night, the three of you are all dressed up for dinner reservations Seokjin made at the five star restaurant at the resort you’re staying at.

Both men go for formal casual; slacks, a tucked in button up shirt, leaving the first three buttons undone for an added we’re on vacation and gorgeous models look that Seokjin will not shut up about.

You dress up in a little black mini dress. It isn't too short to be informal, but just short enough that Namjoon’s hands stay on your thigh during dinner and Seokjin playfully grabs at your ass when you are waiting to be seated.

Seokjin has the staff come sing happy birthday to Namjoon, the man’s face turning the deepest shades of embarrassment until the staff leave.

Two bottles of expensive wine and a delicious meal later, the three of you are walking lazily down the pathway back to the villa. Seokjin directly behind you, his hands wandering your body as he kept you against his chest.

Mumbles of your nickname are pressed against your neck as he kisses and licks the skin there, not caring about where you are walking.

With your head tilted to give him more access, your hazy eyes find your boyfriend a few feet away, holding onto the jacket you thought you might need, as well as your purse and heels you ditched at one point. He’s smiling his I’m tipsy grin, dimples peeking through as he watches his best friend cling to you.

When you step past the front door of the villa, your body is quickly turned, back pressed up against the wall as Seokjin lifts your legs around his waist to bruise your neck some more.

Your moans are cut off by your boyfriend’s words.

“Hyung.” Seokjin quickly removes his lips from your skin. Head turning to look at his friend. “Bed.” Is all he says, tossing your stuff on the couch on the way to the bedroom. Seokjin smirks, tightening his hold on you as he pulls off the wall and heading to the bedroom with you in his arms.

Namjoon is already standing by the foot of the bed, shirt pulled out of the waistband of the slacks that are unbuttoned, but still sitting on his hips. There’s a very prominent bulge peeking through the pants and it’s amazing how nervous it still makes you after all these years.

There’s a silent exchange between the two men as Seokjin lays you down on the bed, letting you scoot back towards the headboard as he crawls over you. His mouth is on your neck again, wet lips marking anywhere he can.

A free hand feels its way down your body, long fingers heading straight to your clothed center. He pushes a finger against your entrance, the fabric gathering up the arousal.

You both let out a curse, your hips rolling up to meet his hand, trying so hard to get his finger to fully enter you. But it doesn’t, he teases you repeatedly, gathering more slick against your underwear until your boyfriend’s voice off to the side tells him to stop.

It’s almost like deja vu the way Seokjin pulls your underwear off, and hands it directly to Namjoon, who’s sitting in a chair next to the bed, cock already in his hand.

Your eyes stay on the way the underwear slides against his erection, the amount of arousal on the fabric mixing with his own.

But his eyes? His eyes are on Seokjin. The way his fingers dig into your flesh as they roam your body.

No. Not again.

“Jin, off.” You whisper it, having to repeat it a little louder when he ignores you in favor of kissing your jaw.

“You okay?” His whisper is panicked, hands leaving your skin to hold himself above you by placing them on either side of you on the bed.

“Yeah,” you nod quickly, “just…the birthday boy.” Your eyes find Seokjin’s and you don’t know when it happened, but somehow you two developed a similar mind. He nods, kissing your nose and rolling off you to sit at the head of the bed, lightly palming himself.

You grin, crawling off the bed, making sure Seokjin has a perfect view of your soaked center sans underwear.

“Joonie, join us.” You stand in front of him at his chair, light fingers taking the underwear away from his cock.

“I’m okay here, baby. Get back to hyung.”

You shake your head, and he doesn’t hesitate to help you when you straddle his lap, his cock teasing your clit as you settle down.

“Come.”

“That’s my line.”

You roll your eyes at his beautiful dimples, leaning down to kiss each one.

“It’s your birthday, Joonie. Let us take care of you.”

“It’s not my birthday yet.”

“As of seven minutes ago, it is officially your birthday, Kim Namjoon.” Seokjin’s voice comes from the bed, phone in hand with a shit eating grin on his face. You grin as well, looking back at your boyfriend.

“See? It’s your day, baby.” You coo, brushing his hair back. “What would you like for your birthday?”

“What are you doing?” He questions, eyes trying to decipher your smile.

“I just want my Joonie to be happy and properly taken care of.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now, be good and get on the bed.”

“Oh, you’re telling me what to do now?”

You hum, nodding as you stand up between his legs, holding your hands out for him, palms up. He gives you a look before looking over at Seokjin and smiles nervously, taking your hands and standing with you.

You back up to the bed, pulling him with you with a smile. You only let go to tug the slacks and briefs off the rest of the way.

“Sit next to Jin.” You quietly command, letting him move past you to get on the bed, sitting next to Seokjin, who at some point pulled all his clothes off except his underwear.

Still in your dress, you crawl back onto the bed, a smirk forming when it appears Namjoon knows exactly what you’re doing and spreads his legs just slightly. Just enough to let you get comfortable on your stomach and your arms resting on his thighs.

“Happy birthday, Joonie.” You grin, taking his cock in your hand and giving it a single pump, standing it up in front of you. Your lips sneak small kisses up and down his length, longer ones on his tip, before slowly easing his entire length down your throat. Holding him there in your mouth, a free hand cradles his balls in your palm, giving them a gentle massage that makes him groan, hands clutching your hair.

“God, she’s too good at that.” Seokjin murmurs, your lips wrapped around Namjoon’s tip, tongue teasing at the slit that’s already oozing with precum.

“I bet you’d do just— ah, fuck,” Namjoon’s head falls back, hitting the headboard as you take him down in one go without warning. “You’d do just fine, hyung.”

“Oh, I know I would. I’d do more than fine.” Seokjin’s quick to quip and you can’t help but smile internally, lifting your mouth off and away from your boyfriend’s cock.

“Prove it.”

Both men stare at you, one turning a deep shade, the other almost laughing if not for the shock of the call out.

“That’s not…” Seokjin stutters, still trying not to smile.

“Not what? Joonie loves his cock sucked. You have amazing lips and your mouth is big enough, I’m sure you could take him all.”

“Baby.” Namjoon warns but you ignore the tone, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Jin needs to prove himself, Joon. Is it okay if he helps me with your cock?”

Namjoon’s eyes stay locked on yours. You can’t tell if he’s angry or nervous, but it’s enough to make you feel like submitting to whatever he wants, but also rebel against everything and anything he says.

Not to mention, the shooting jolt of arousal you get from just that gaze is enough.

It’s Seokjin’s voice that breaks through the staring contest.

“I’ll be good, Joon. I promise.”

Namjoon’s eyes tear away from yours to Seokjin’s so fast, you think his neck would’ve snapped.

You keep watching your boyfriend for any sort of negative reaction.

But his eyes dance from eye to eye to lips, back to his eyes and next thing you know, Namjoon is nodding, sliding further down the bed to give you both access.

You share a look with Seokjin, both ending in a grin as you take place on the bed between Namjoon’s legs. Your boyfriend is muttering something quietly to himself, his arm thrown over his face.

You give Seokjin’s cheek a kiss, a hand pressing soothing circles into Namjoon’s thigh. Seokjin reaches out for Namjoon’s cock, almost mimicking your actions from moments ago. You watch in awe as his lips prove to be perfect for this activity, his mouth wide enough to take Namjoon down without a problem.

“Fuck, so fucking good.” Namjoon mutters, biting his forearm. You can’t fight the smirk when you and Seokjin dive in at the same time, licking and kissing along his shaft and tip, both taking turns with his balls.

Namjoon is going insane, fighting the urges to either force both of you closer to his cock until he’s coming across both of your faces, or to fill Seokjin’s mouth with himself until Seokjin’s crying and coming down his throat. He so desperately wants to regain control, but if this is what happens when he doesn’t have control?

Fuck that. No better time to give it all up than right now.

“Fuck, okay you have to stop or I’m going to explode.”

You look away from Seokjin’s swollen lips around Namjoon’s tip to look back at your boyfriend, who has his eyes on the ceiling, afraid to look down at the two of you for it might make him come.

“That’s not how you ask.”

“Baby.” There’s that warning tone again.

“Joonie.” You mock the tone, Seokjin pulls off, giving his tip one last lick.

“Tell him, princess.”

You grin, wrapping your hand around Namjoon’s shaft, pumping hellishly slow.

“Come on, Joonie. Be good for us. Ask correctly.”

It takes a few more pumps, Seokjin next to you, kissing your shoulder, before Namjoon lets out a deep whine, voice cracking when he finally speaks.

“Please stop. I need you to stop before I come. Please, baby.”

“I like that word coming from those lips,” Seokjin giggles, “no offense, princess. It’s just hotter.”

“None taken. I agree a hundred percent.”

“You two are the worst.” Namjoon’s muffled words send you both into a giggle fit, giving one another a small high five.

“It’s what we strive to be, Joon.” Seokjin nods in agreement, arms wrapping around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

“Now, since you clearly need a minute, how about I take care of the princess for a moment?” Seokjin’s lips trail up your neck to your jaw and finally seal your lips with his. He tastes like Namjoon, and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t make you want to come right then and there.

Namjoon nods, muttering approval before you’re yoinked away from your boyfriend, giggling when you’re pulled on top of Seokjin. It’s a fumble getting his briefs off as well as your dress, but you manage to do it, out of breath from laughing too much at the end.

You sit up, your mind in a blissful happiness you can’t describe at the sight of both men on the bed.

“I’m too lucky.” You whisper, using one hand to steady yourself over Seokjin’s hips, the other wrapping around his cock, giving it a few pumps to coat it with his own precum. His hands find your hips, holding tightly as you align him with your center, sinking down until he’s fully inside.

“Shit,” you curse, loving the stretch while you slowly lift your hips, circling them at the same time.

“Come on, princess. Show me what you can do.” Seokjin coos, giving your ass a light spank to encourage you to move. You scoff, grabbing the hand on your ass to hold it there as you pick up the pace, bouncing on him.

Seokjin’s cock is perfection, honestly. Or as close to it as one can get. Namjoon’s is too. But goddamn Kim Seokjin’s dick can make you see stars.

Neither of you notice Namjoon getting on his knees to crawl to you, grabbing your face and kissing you like he’s never kissed you before.

It’s hunger, lust, love, vulnerability, and just everything kissing should be with the one you love.

You melt into him, your pace slowing again on Seokjin’s hips, your hands reaching to hold your boyfriend’s face.

It’s not enough.

“Joonie,” you breathe against his lips, your hips stilling, “I need you.”

“Wait until hyung’s done, baby.”

You shake your head almost too fast, pushing him back a bit. You gesture to Seokjin to fully lay down, laying across his torso, lifting your ass up as if you’re presenting yourself to him.

“Both, Joonie. Want you both.” You moan against Seokjin’s collarbone, your hips rolling against his own, keeping his cock inside you.

There’s a breath of a curse and your princess nickname under you, his hands holding your waist as you still.

“Jagi,” Namjoon chokes in his next breath, eyes focused on your stretched cunt swallowing Seokjin whole, “are you sure?”

“Yes. I need it, baby. Wanna feel you both.”

“You’re not nearly stretched enough.”

“I’m fine. Please.”

“If she says she’s fine, she’s fine, Joon. Please hurry up.” Seokjin tries to joke, but his jest is cut off by a groan when you lift your hips and slam them back down for some kind of friction. “Princess, behave. I’m trying to help you.”

“Both.” You whimper desperately. “Need you both.”

“Listen to her, Joonie,” Seokjin teases, spreading his legs some, “she needs us. You gave control. Do as she says.”

“I did not give her control.”

“Joonie.” You cry with another roll of your hips.

“Shit, Jagi. Okay.” His voice is rushed as he gets in his knees between Seokjin’s legs.

“He’s so whipped for you, princess.”

You giggle softly into Seokjin’s neck. The three of you have to maneuver around just a little for the right angle, but you finally feel the tip of your boyfriend’s cock along your inner thigh.

You clench at the sensation, quietly apologizing to Seokjin when he gasps.

“Relax, princess. You have to relax if you want us both.”

“I do. I do, I do. Want you both.”

“Kiss me.” Those two words have your head spinning as you lift it to melt your lips to his.

In the back of your mind, you know what he’s doing. He’s distracting you, giving you something else to focus on and relax. And goddamn does it work. You get so lost in the feeling of his lips, the way his tongue dances with yours, and matching your breathing to his, that you barely notice Namjoon pressing inside of you, cock sliding against Seokjin’s. Not until Seokjin lets out a guttural groan at the pressure.

Then you feel it.

How full you feel.

Both men inside you.

How it should be.

No choices. No turns. Just together. The three of you.

The stretch is intense. Borderline painful. But you’re so aroused from just the fact that both the men you love so much are inside you at the same time, that the pain lessens quickly.

“You okay, Y/N?” Namjoon’s voice echoes against your ear.

You try to hold yourself up to lean into him, but feel your arms giving out. As if he knows what is happening, because of course he knows, an arm snakes its way around your middle, holding you up against him, allowing you to focus on the feeling of them.

“Full.” You mutter, hand reaching behind you to run your fingers through Namjoon’s hair. “So full. ‘Sokay though, you can move.”

His lips press against your ear, then your neck, ending on your shoulder as he gives Seokjin a look before they both nod, alternating their thrusts. Every time Namjoon pulls back, Seokjin pushes further in and vice versa.

It feels too fucking good. But you can’t do it yet. You can’t come yet. You need the feeling to last longer. You try to prolong the feeling, rolling your hips to meet with Namjoon’s thrust, clenching around him as you do so.

You shouldn’t have done that.

Instead of prolonging it, it just forces your orgasm. Your sensitive clit rubs just the right way against Seokjin’s pelvis, making you cry out in complete euphoria.

“Oh, fuck!” Namjoon’s voice cracks behind you, hips stuttering before pressing flush against you.

You can feel his cum pooling inside of you, spreading around with your own arousal as Seokjin’s thrusts continue, encouraging Namjoon to keep coming until they both have to pull out from you and Namjoon becoming oversensitive.

Namjoon falls back from his sitting position on his knees to on his ass, hands holding him up behind him. You roll off Seokjin, eyes shut as you breathe heavily. Your body can’t decide between closing your legs to keep Namjoon’s cum inside and keeping your legs open because of the soreness and sensitivity.

It takes a few seconds before you hear a body shuffling on the bed and a gasp from beside you.

“What are you doing?!” Seokjin whisper-shouts. Your eyes fly open as you turn to look at the gorgeous sight beside you.

Seokjin is still lying down, legs spread. But he’s looking down between them where Namjoon has settled on his stomach, hand cautiously wrapped around Seokjin’s still hardened erection.

“You haven't come yet.” Namjoon states.

“So, what? You’re gonna jerk me?”

“No? I was gonna try…sucking.”

You and Seokjin both snicker at the same time, much to Namjoon’s annoyance.

“Oh. I can’t decide if that was adorable or fucking hot.” Seokjin cackles, a hand holding Namjoon’s face gently. Namjoon tries swatting the hand away, losing very quickly when you’re suddenly laying on your stomach as well, but near Seokjin’s side.

“It was both. One hundred percent, it was both.” You kiss the cheek not being cradled. “Want some help?”

It’s the way he nods so nervously that makes your heart burst. You grin, settling in closer.

“Well, you’ve seen me do it a million times. Use the lips, avoid teeth, the balls are fun, always kiss the tip, know your limits.” You give the instruction fairly easily, trying not to giggle at his anxiousness. “You’ll be okay, Joonie. And if you don’t like it, you can stop at any time.”

“I’d rather he didn’t, though.”

“Jin.” You warn, glaring at the handsome idiot.

“Don’t Jin me! You both came already! I’m dying here!”

Namjoon snorts, not hesitating or giving any warning when he leans forward to kiss Seokjin’s tip.

“Oh— fuck.” Seokjin’s hand leaves Namjoon’s face, hitting the mattress by his thigh, and taking a deep breath when Namjoon slowly wraps his lips around the head, tongue dancing along the slit.

You watch in awe, giving words of encouragement as Namjoon lowers his mouth further down Seokjin’s cock, trying his best to take as much as he can. His hand cradles his balls, massaging them gently, but giving a small tug every now and again.

“You’re doing so good, Joonie.” You praise over and over, running your hand through his hair, “make him come, baby. Make him lose control the way you do to me.”

Namjoon finally hits his gag reflex, coughing slightly around Seokjin. His eyes lift to find Seokjin’s head leaning back, hand hitting the mattress again, fingers digging into the blanket.

“Careful.” Your eyes widen slightly, resisting the urge to pull him off. If Namjoon wants to stop, he’ll stop.

Also the sight and sounds are way too erotic to want to stop him.

Seokjin’s head snaps forward at the feeling of Namjoon’s free hand pulling the hand tangled in the sheets, placing the hand in his hair.

Their eyes meet.

Seokjin smiles, his fingers tangling in Namjoon’s hair as the younger’s head lifts to wrap around the tip, tongue teasing it.

“Goddamn, Joonie, that’s fucking perfect.” Seokjin lets out a light laugh, almost in disbelief at what’s happening. His hand slowly presses his head down, making Namjoon take more of him until it hits the back of his throat again.

You honestly don’t know what to do yourself. Do you touch them? Join in? Say something? Encourage them to continue? Honestly, you’d rather just sit back and enjoy the visual of your boyfriend and best friend enjoying one another.

You do, however, find yourself rolling your hips against a blanket, soaked center making it perfect for your clit to glide along as you watch.

And of course, Namjoon knows what you’re doing, even with his best friend’s dick down his throat. The free hand that had Seokjin’s trades with the one cradling his balls, quickly pulling the blanket away from you. You whine in protest, but his hand quickly finds its way between your legs, long fingers collecting up arousal and cum to spread around your clit.

Your hips buck up closer to his hand, whimpering when a finger finds its way past your entrance, pumping you in perfect timing with the way he bobs his head.

You know exactly what the fuck he’s doing.

It takes barely a few minutes of the synchronized bobbing and pumping until Seokjin is almost in tears, moaning loudly as he comes down Namjoon’s throat at the same time your hips lose any and all sense of rhythm, coming around Namjoon’s fingers as you hug Seokjin’s thigh.

Your come down is broken through when you hear Seokjin mutter come here and both hands grab at Namjoon, pulling him up his body to kiss him.

To actually kiss him.

Seokjin kissing Namjoon.

After Seokjin just came down Namjoon’s throat.

And Namjoon is kissing him back, open mouth, tongues tangling together.

This is the fucking dream.

You mutter a soft curse, lazily grinning at the sight. Seokjin seems to be the only one who hears you, pulling away from Namjoon’s lips with a grin.

“Happy birthday, Joonie.” Seokjin gives another peck on the lips. Namjoon sighs into the quick kiss, lips faintly chasing the other’s.

“You finally got your kiss, Jin.” You tease, the three of you giggling together. You scoot back a little bit, letting Namjoon get off Seokjin, laying between you both.

“Finally.” He laughs as you throw your leg over Namjoon’s right leg, head ducking under his arm to rest on his chest. Seokjin is quick to mimic the position on the opposite side of Namjoon, who seems too blissfully out of it to care about the teasing.

It’s silent for a moment, but your brain won’t shut up.

And of course, Namjoon knows.

“So should we have that talk now?” Namjoon’s words are quiet against the silence of the three of you in the afterglow moments. Both you and Seokjin make questioning noises, prompting you to look up.

“What talk?”

“Jagi…wanna tell him?”

Your eyes widen in a small panic, but Namjoon’s fingers dance along your spine reassuringly.

You can do this. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.

“Uh, Jin. I don’t want this to be…like Namjoon and myself in a relationship with you as a bonus. I want the three of us to be…”

“A throuple?” Seokjin’s quick to catch on. Namjoon smiles, eyes shut.

“If you want. Clearly, you and Joon have something. You and I have something. Obviously Joon and I have something…”

“I’d be happy to be a boyfriend to you both.”

You can feel Namjoon’s heart pounding under your cheek, your own heart doing the same.

“Yeah? Officially?” You just know the way you’re grinning looks like a child told they’re going to Disneyland, and you don’t fucking care. This is so much better.

“As long as this guy wants it,” his head jerks up to the man lying between you both, arms wrapped around both of you. He’s got a smug smile with his beautiful puffy lips.

“I do.” Namjoon confirms with a sigh, “dunno how I’m gonna deal with both of you when you’re being brats, but…”

“We are never brats.”

“Yeah!” Seokjin lightly hits Namjoon’s stomach, “maybe it’s just that you are a strict spoilsport. Ever think about that?”

“You’re literally being a brat right now.” Namjoon’s monotone voice cracks with just a hint of amusement. You stay silent, curling up closer to Namjoon as they continue to bicker with a smile.

“Wow. Day one of our relationship, and you’re already being so rude. Do you even know who I am? How lucky you are?”

You bite back the laugh, letting yourself fall asleep to the voices of your two boyfriends.

When you wake up the next morning, it’s to the sound of screaming. But not from either of the men you fell asleep with.

“Sorry! Sorry sorry sorry! We’ll just…we’ll be out here! Yoongi, come on!” You know that voice. Why is that voice in Greece?

Oh fuck.

Once the bedroom door closes, you sit up quickly, your head spinning from the sudden position change as you wrap the blanket around your top half. You leap out of bed, trying to find clothes.

“Y/N? Care to explain?” Namjoon’s voice is higher than normal, still sitting upright in the bed.

Fuck.

“This was the wrong way to surprise you.” You throw some shorts, a tank top, some underwear and a bra onto the bed, quickly getting rid of the blanket to change.

“I was supposed to wake up early and let them in and we’d make breakfast and it’d be a whole big birthday thing. But then we…last night…and I just…forgot.”

“You forgot Yoongi and Jimin were going to be joining us in Greece?”

“Don’t even start!” You button the shorts around your waist, throwing the tank top on after. “You forgot your own birthday!”

“He forgot his birthday?” Seokjin makes his appearance from the bathroom, looking as disheveled as you do in his haste to put on clothes. He sits on the bed, toothbrush in his mouth. The only one still naked is Namjoon, who just has a blanket covering his bottom half.

“For like a moment.” The birthday boy shrugs. You cut him off before he can continue.

“Whatever. Jin and I will go set things up. You put some pants on and laze about or something, you birthday grump.”

“Not a birthday grump.”

“I thought you’d be happy with your friends out here with us.”

“I am, Jagi. I am and I love you for it. But they just saw both of my partners naked in bed with me and you know I don’t like others seeing what’s mine.”

You have to remind yourself that Yoongi and Jimin are just outside the door. You cannot tease your boyfriend into fucking you right now.

“Joonie. They’re together. They don’t care about what they see. Yoongi and I are like siblings.”

“He’s still possessive.” Seokjin shrugs, returning to the bathroom to spit out the toothpaste. You swap places with him, quickly brushing your teeth and trying not to look like a complete mess.

Namjoon’s at the door when you leave the bathroom, pants on but no shirt.

Damn him.

You pout. But not for the reason he thinks.

“Thank you for inviting Yoongi and Jimin out here for my birthday, baby.” His voice is softer, hands reaching for your waist.

“I just wanted it to be a fun birthday.”

“It’s been a great birthday so far. I’m sure it’ll get even better. Thank you.” He presses his lips to yours, lips tugging into a smile when you melt against him. When he just barely pulls away, he mumbles “I love you, Jagi.”

“I love you, too.” You sigh against his lips. The sound of something moving on the bed pulls you away, making you laugh when Seokjin appears by you.

“Excuse me, I paid for their flights. Where’s my thank you kiss?”

“Shut up, hyung.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, grabbing Seokjin by the back of the neck and cutting off any sassy responses with a kiss. Seokjin melts into him just like you did, but pushes away after a second.

“Brush your teeth, stinky. You taste like last night. Let’s go, princess.”

Seokjin’s hand grabs yours, pulling you out of the bedroom and into the living room where the two wait.

“So…” Yoongi’s voice trails, eyes set directly on your joined hands.

“What’s going on with you three?” Jimin completes the question for Yoongi, who’s sitting on the couch with him, legs crossed and foot tapping the air.

“We’re uh…together.”

“Did you and Joon break up?”

“Nope.”

“We’re all together now. The three of us.” Seokjin explains further for you.

Both boys sit there, Jimin with an amused, almost shocked expression, and Yoongi of course stone faced. It’s silent until Yoongi finally smiles.

“You’re welcome.” Is all he says, standing up from the couch and heading to the kitchen

“I said it wouldn’t happen. Yoongi said otherwise.” Jimin giggles, bouncing up. “Okay, let’s go make the birthday boy some food!”

“Nope. You’re banned from kitchens, remember?” Yoongi grabs both of Jimin’s wrists before he can reach for any utensil.

“Minnie, help me decorate and let the old men cook.” You call out, ignoring the shocked gasp from your boyfriend.

Jimin sighs, joining you, the other banned one, to help decorate.

Namjoon joins half an hour later, trying to help you and Jimin decorate, only to be banned after he pops a confetti balloon. He tries to help in the kitchen, but Yoongi goes off on him when he tries to cut a vegetable incorrectly.

“I thought you’re supposed to be nice and loving to people on their birthday.” He grumbles from the couch.

Jimin has taken over the decorations, his interior design skills coming in handy to make it look perfect. You are settled on the couch next to Namjoon, curling up in his arms.

“You’re also not supposed to help with your birthday party, silly.” You both laugh, watching the ridiculousness going on in this villa in Greece of all places.

“Thank you again, baby.” Namjoon whispers against your temple, a kiss following after, “This has been an amazing trip.”

“Of course, Joonie. And thank you for being the man I love. Happy birthday.” You look up, smiling before your lips find his, and you feel whole. Jimin says something and Namjoon pulls away to respond. You take a second to look over at the kitchen.

Yoongi’s ranting about how annoying grocery shopping is on the island, but Seokjin’s not paying attention. His eyes are on you and Namjoon, handsome face smiling ear to ear.

You can’t help but smile back.

You have the man you’ve loved for years and the man you know is your soulmate. You don’t need anything else.

161 notes · View notes

sailoryooons · 4 months

Text

King of Tides | KSJ | Drabble

☾ Pairing: Pirate!Seokjin x Sea Demon!Reader

☾ Summary: Seokjin meets a ghost of his past when he and his crew stop to celebrate for the evening.

☾ Word Count: 1,969

☾ Genre: Pirate AU, Angst, Lovers to Enemies

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: References to smut, explicit language, weapons and mentions of murder, betrayal, vague world building, Seokjin is an Asshole, brief references to childhood trauma, angst.

☾ Published: Friday, January 5, 2024

☾ A/N: Drabble 2 of the 100 Drabble Challenge is prompt #67, pirates! I had no idea what I was doing with this until I wrote it. It is obviously inspired by Pirate of the Caribbean with the whole Davy Jone’s chest thing, but I very much put my own spin on it. The ring is inspired by Solomon’s Ring, which is a Christian-centric mythology that Solomon had a ring that could summon the forces of Hell. So I did that but like… sea hell hahaha. I hope you enjoy this! I’ts very different for me!

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Song Inspiration

Seokjin is used to the occasional knife in the dark. As one of the most notorious captains and thieves on the seven seas, he’s even been the knife in the dark himself.

When he feels the pressure of a blade against his spine tonight, he’s not surprised. His crew is too drunk to see the threat standing behind their captain, and Seokjin has made the ridiculous mistake of letting a pretty woman lure him to a dark table in the corner, away from the noise and celebrating.

Seokjin immediately feels like a fool for letting his guard down, the worst mistake he could ever make.

The pretty girl in front of him grins and looks at Seokjin’s assailant before nodding her head and slipping from the chair. He grits his teeth, realizing she is in on it. He clenches his fist as he starts to turn, but the knife digs into his ribs. A hard push would send it right between the two of them and into a lung. It would be a slow, gross death.

The raucous noise of the tavern buzzes in his ear as a hand taps his shoulder, signaling for him to stand. He does so slowly, looking around the tavern to see if there’s anyone he can appeal to for his plight.

No one pays him any mind, hands going up dresses or down pants, wine flowing, and crowd singing. His crew is too busy celebrating. And why shouldn’t they? They’ve just stopped at their favorite port after a successful three years of hunting a timeless piece of treasure. A power that puts Seokjin on edge.

The ring sits heavy in Seokjin’s pocket. Only Yoongi his firstmate and Namjoon his chronicler know of the power in Seokjin’s pocket, too dangerous to be left on the ship with the remainder of the treasure. He doesn’t enjoy hiding the ring from his crew, but he hasn’t quiet yet decided what to do with it. How to explain what it is that it does without scaring the loyal members of his crew.

Slowly, a hand turns Seokjin around and walks him toward the stairs, still at knifepoint. He grins as he goes, leaning his head to the side to see the person who holds him captive. The knife digs harder into his back, a warning that makes him chuckle and turn forward, holding his hands up in defeat.

“If you wanted to lure me to your bed, you just had to ask,” he says, going up the steps. His boots are heavy on the creaking wood as he goes. “I am the most handsome of pirates, but I’m also quite liberal with my affections.”

His captor says nothing as they reach the second landing. Doors line either side of the hall. Seokjin can detect all manner of lovemaking and laughter beyond each closed door. He does not typically favor staying upstairs or renting rooms for whores, preferring the rocking of the ship in the harbor and the canvas of the night sky. It makes him unfamiliar with the second floor, but he counts his steps as they go.

They turn and go down another hall and stop at the last door of the right. It’s not a far run to get to the stairs and sound the alarm. Once he disarms his captor, he just needs to sprint and scream. He’s pretty quick on his feet and-

The knife prods him and he realizes the door to the room is open. He steps over the threshold into the room, glancing around. It’s simple enough. A single bed stands in the corner with a chest at the foot, a nightstand to the left, and a candle burning, smoke drifting toward the ceiling.

When the door shuts behind him, Seokjin’s muscles coil. He prepares to spring, hand sliding into the front of his jacket pocket, inching towards the small knife there-

“Don’t bother,” the voice says, knife ever-present. Seokjin’s hand freezes, recognizing the rasp of your voice anywhere. “That’s not the right knife, Captain.”

You’re right. The knife in his jacket pocket would do nothing against you, but the knife in his boot would. He’d grown lazy, no longer keeping the adamas dagger at his hip or within close reach. Three years haven’t made him feel safe, exactly, but he had started to think that you were still captive in that little home he’d left you in.

Evidently, it’s a mistake that will cost him.

Now he’s nervous. You push him further into the room with your palm but remove the knife from his back. He doesn’t reach down to the weapon in his boot, stuck between fear and the desire to see you - to talk to you again.

When he turns, his heart cracks open and starts to bleed.

The last time Seokjin saw you is fresh in his memory. You’d been chained to the bed you shared in a small island home off the coast of the Americas. He remembers the smell of your skin, like salt and driftwood. The cool touch of your lips against his burning skin. You always felt like the depths of the ocean, every part of you fluid as you’d fucked him last night, your breath sea breeze against his mouth, cries a haunting siren song.

And your eyes. Seokjin sees the inhuman blue-green glow of your eyes every night.

Now, those same eyes are staring at him, glowing in the dark. You stand so far in the shadows that it’s hard to make out any of your features or expressions, but Seokjin has your face burned into every part of his memory. The bow of your mouth, the slope of your nose, the roundness of your cheeks. It’s all there along with the knowledge that he’d betrayed you. Chained you. Loved you.

When you step into the light, Seokjin holds his breath. You’re so beautiful. It’s what lured him to you in the first place, a sailor to a siren, but he knows you’re so much more than a pretty face and glowing eyes. You’re also incredibly smart and wicked, a ruthlessness in you as brutal as the sea running in your veins, an unpredictably like a storm destroying the tropics.

A pirate by trade. Daughter of Leviathan by nature.

“You must be talented to get out of those cuffs. We should have used them more” Seokjin doesn’t know what else to say. You’re not advancing further into the room, and he’s worried reaching for his knife will startle you.

Behind him, the candle casts an orange glow on your face. It makes the sneer much more twisted, the furrowed brows as you glower harsher. Your features are sharper than he remembers, your eyes burning with the unnatural glow of a demon of the deep. You are murderous.

“I’m the favorite daughter of Leviathan, King of the Depths, Destroyer of Seas, and Maker of Tides. You think he would leave me to rot?”

“No, I suppose he doesn’t want that pretty face to wilt.” He tries to appear casual, spinning and tossing himself on the bed. You don’t move, eyes tracking him. “I suppose you’ve been following me all this time, then?”

“I have far more important things to do.”

“Perhaps, but you’d always loved revenge.”

“I loved you.”

There. You said it.

Seokjin doesn’t say anything for a moment, shocked to silence. Usually, you like to spar with your words, dancing around what you want to say with quick barbs and turns of phrase. Tonight, you cut right to it, leaving all playfulness out of your voice.

It makes his heart squeeze painfully. In the years that you sailed together, he cannot recall a time that you’ve ever been so direct. Even when you loved him most. Even when you were at your most vulnerable.

Perhaps you are here to kill him after all.

“So you’re here to win me back over?” he tries, desperate to get on familiar ground. Desperate to goad you. To make you snap back, to throw an insult. “You’ll need more than a knife to do that.”

“Give me the ring.”

“What do you want with it?”

“The likes of you shouldn’t have the power to summon the demons of the depths.”

“What if I’m in peril and need to call you?”

“You had me!” You roar, the force of your voice shaking the room, the candle almost guttering, the window panes shaking. He hears the scream downstairs, the entire building rattle with the rage of the ocean in your voice.

Seokjin drops the act, sitting up and squeezing his fists to fight the nausea of guilt twisting his stomach. He can feel your rage fill up the room like a solid thing, a cold pressure pressing on his skin as the candle on the nightstand flickers.

“Humans are not made to command Leviathan and his children” you growl, stepping further into the room. Standing closer to the light, Seokjin realizes your eyes are watery. He sucks in a sharp breath. He’s never seen you cry. “You are weak and petty, your lives but a speck of sand in fathomless oceans. You are selfish and greedy and cruel.”

“Are demons not the same? Do you not fight amongst yourselves for power? Do you not cause chaos among the seas? Do you not hunger for power, lust, and riches?”

“Those things belong to us.”

Seokjin stands abruptly. “Now they belong to me!”

“Seokjin.”

“Now I will command the seas. I will have the power to rein in the monster of the depths when he wants to destroy innocent ships. When he wants to send storms against islands. When he wants to swallow the souls on the sea. He will bow to me, now.”

“This is madness.”

“This is fair.” He feels his heart rate speed up. Feels rage pumping through his system. Feels like the little boy clinging to a piece of driftwood as the sea destroys the ship he and his family were sailing on, feels the burn of saltwater in his lungs as the ocean drags him down, feels-

“You’d risk the world for a sense of vengeance for your lost childhood?” your voice is barely audible, a sea breeze. “The infamous Captain Seokjin of the Blue Moon, Scourge of the Seas, so afraid of losing control of the tide that he’d dare assert his dominance over it.”

“Captain Seokjin, King of Tides has a better ring to it.”

You glance at his pocket where you know the ring sits heavy. He can feel the power ebbing from the cool metal as thought it senses you in the room. Like calling to like. A tool to control Leviathan and all of his demonic children of the sea sensing one of those very creatures in front of him.

“The sea will bow to no one.”

A blade glints in your hand. Seokjin finally realizes why you refuse to jest. Why there are tears in your eyes. You’re not here to negotiate or to let him loose. He truly has fallen out of your favor, and you’re here to take what he used you to steal.

He slowly bends down, watching you all the while. You let him remove the knife from his boot, kind enough to offer him a fair fight. “The sea loved you, you know?”

He knows you’re not just talking about the oceans he sails. His throat constricts as he nods. “I love her.”

You appraise him once more, uncanny eyes flickering. If his admission that there is still warmth flickering for you has an effect, it doesn’t show.

“Your love means nothing. You betrayed her and now you will meet your death, King of Tides.”

He grips his knife firmly. The ring is heavy in his pocket. “I welcome the attempt.”

#seokjin fic #jin fic #kim seokjin fic #jin x you #seokjin x you #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #jin fanfic #jin angst #bts fic #bts x you #bts fanfic #100 drabble challenge #pirate jin

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berryhobii · 6 months

Text

Games (ksj x reader)

Pairing: Boyfriend!Kim Seokjin x black!female!reader

Word Count: 2K+

Warnings: established relationship, Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), slight brat!reader and slight brat tamer!Jin, whiny reader, masturbation(f receiving), multiple orgasms(f receiving), clit play, fingering, squirting, voyeurism I guess(Jin watches reader touch herself), light nipple play, reader has TIG ‘OL BITTIES, missionary, both legs over one shoulder position, cum swallowing, light overstimulation

A/N: Hi! I’m back with a little something for all of my Seokjin fans! Inspired by that live when he played computer games for like 3 hours and was making noises that had me turning my phone volume down😩😩🤭 as for reader, I only mentioned them having brown skin and sweated out hair, nothing too specific this time around. Anyway, please enjoy and let me know what you think! Stay safe loves🩵🩵🩵

“Jinnie! Pay attention to me.” You whined as you draped yourself across your boyfriend’s wide shoulders.

“Later, baby. I want to hit a streak on this.”

He was currently playing some stupid game where he had to get a man in a pot to the top of stupid hill or something. Honestly, you didn’t even know and you didn’t really care. All you wanted was for your boyfriend to come rail you until the neighbors complained. Or until your bed frame broke again. Whichever came first. But he was adamant about reaching a certain point in the game that not even the call of sex could pull him away.

How could it not?! Your pussy was much better entertainment than some lousy computer game. Hell, it entertained himself more than enough that one time the wifi went out. So why wasn’t it now?

You should go and yank the plug out of the wall and really make him mad.

You pouted your lip, grabbing both of his cheeks and turning his head until his face was planted right between your full breasts.

“But baby….I need you.”

He moved his head so that he could look up at you. God you were adorable when you were all pouty and horny. Of course he wanted to fuck you to tears but he hasn’t had a lot of time to sit and play his games lately. He just wanted to play for a little while but when you were horny, you were horny. And you did anything to get what you wanted.

Perhaps he spoiled you a bit too much but he didn’t mind. He liked you like that—his spoiled little princess.

He lifted his hands to rest on your ass, giving the fat a little spank. “I know princess. Just be patient for a little bit, yeah? I promise I’ll play with you later.”

Your lip could have fallen off from how hard you were jutting it out. Nevertheless, you relented, releasing his head from your hold.

“Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”

His smile made your heart flutter. He was too cute to stay mad at for long. Damn your weakness for him.

“I’ll do whatever you want later, okay?” He lifted his hand to pinch at your nipple that was poking through your tank top. You squealed at the sudden pain, not even trying to deny the tingling in your cunt.

Tease.

“Stop.” You whined, batting his hand away to which he laughed and turned back to his game.

Damn it. Now you were more horny if that was even possible.

Trudging over to the bed, you flopped belly first onto it. You laid there for a hot moment, trying to ignore the wetness of your panties sticking to you and your clit that was aching for attention.

Knowing Seokjin, he’d be on that game for hours, probably well past bedtime and you couldn’t wait that long.

Fuck it. You’d take matters into your own hands. If Seokjin wouldn’t fuck you, you’d just do it yourself. Yeah!

Flipping over, you reached for your shorts, tugging them down and off along with your panties. You shivered as the cool air brushed against your heated core. Everything just felt so sensitive for some reason.

You removed your tank top next, breasts flopping down against your body once freed.

Scooting up so that your head was resting on the pillows, your hands began their journey. You didn’t even need to warm yourself up since you’ve been warmed up and desperate for hours.

Your fingertips met your clit, hips jumping at the pressure. Fuck, you were pent up. You ran your fingers down your slit, gathering some of the copious wetness that was spilling out of you before trailing back up to your clit.

Your back arched as you rubbed small circles into the sensitive little nub. You could already feel an orgasm building in your lower tummy.

“Mmpf, fuck…” You moaned quietly, twisting and pinching at your nipple. Your fingers sped up a little bit, applying more pressure and building that heat even faster.

Your legs shifted restlessly, toes digging into the sheets as that tingling feeling spread all over your body.

Mouth dropping, your orgasm washed over you in blazing waves. You continued to rub at your clit, guiding yourself through until you could breathe again.

But you needed more.

Glancing over at your boyfriend, you found him still absorbed in his game. You bit your lip as you took in the broad expanse of his back, those shoulders home to your legs whenever he’d take you in missionary. People thought it was a boring position but you absolutely loved it, the curve of his cock would hit your spot just right and…..

You didn’t even realize your fingers had started moving again as you thought about your boyfriend’s cock…..and his hands…..and his tongue.

Abandoning your breast, you brought your hand down to your hole, stuffing two fingers inside of yourself. You located your spot easily, pressing up into it and beginning to thrust your fingers in and out. The fingers on your clit worked in tandem, that pressure building again.

Your skin felt too tight, pleasure bursting at your seams as you stimulated your most sensitive spots.

Suddenly, the sound of Seokjin’s cries of failure hit your ears and you swore your soul left your body. What the hell was up those almost pornographic noises?

The pads of your fingers pressed even faster into your walls, rubbing against that spot harder until that pressure felt ready to explode.

The squelching of your walls were loud enough to catch Seokjin’s attention. He froze for a second, making sure he was hearing correctly.

Then your pleasured gasps met his ears and he knew he wasn’t hallucinating. A smirk rose to his face, that slightly egotistical feeling settling in his chest.

You were such a brat but you were his brat.

Leaving his game for now, he turned in his chair to face the bed where your beauty was laid out.

Lost in pleasure, your brown skin glistening from sweat, chest heaving and arm muscles contracting as you moved them between your legs.

He couldn’t see much due to your bent legs but judging by the sounds, you were soaking wet. Probably dripping all over.

He could feel his cock beginning to stand at attention. Just the thought of your gushing walls wrapping around his cock was enough to push him to his feet.

You were so busy chasing your high that you didn’t even feel the bed sinking nor the new presence that joined you.

A soft touch trailed up the inside of your thigh made you flinch, your eyes opening and head lifting from the pillows to find your boyfriend sitting in front of you.

“J-jinnie…” You gasped.

His eyes were bright, a small smile on his face. One that made a cold rush go down your body.

“Keep going, princess. You’re close.” He’s studied your body long enough to know those things.

You obeyed, your clit buzzing and walls clenching as you pushed yourself closer and closer to the edge.

Seokjin’s touches were featherlight as they trailed up your thighs, fleeting and barely there but still managing to make you feel hot all over.

“I’m cumming….Jinnie, please…” You whined, begging for him to do anything. Something.

He shushed you, leaning to press a light kiss on the side of your knee. “Cum princess.”

And like a switch had been flipped accessible only by him, your orgasm rammed into you like a truck.

The force of your walls pushed your fingers out of yourself, a small spray of liquid following. Your moan was wall shaking, fingers slapping against your overstimulated clit to ride out your orgasm.

“Shit! Oh my god!” You hissed, your legs shaking from the shocks.

Seokjin watched with lustful, hooded eyes as you came. He would never grow tired of the sight.

“My pretty girl.” He whispered against your skin, kissing his way up your belly and between the valley of your breasts. His hands gripped at the soft globes, the familiar weight feeling like heaven in his palms. His plush lips licked and sucked dark hickies into your skin, index fingers and thumbs pinching at your hardened nipples.

You hummed a moan, your own fingers gripping at his pajama shirt, trying to undo the buttons.

He tsked. “Such a greedy girl. I told you to be patient.” His lips trailed up your sweaty throat, nipping at your pulse point that was thrumming like crazy. He inhaled the sweetness of your skin, tongue catching the saltiness of your sweat. You drove him crazy. He wanted to devour you.

“If you gave me what I wanted in the first place, I wouldn’t be greedy.” You fired back. Even after all this, you still had the gall to be smart with him.

He smirked against your throat, his fingers giving your nipples a surprise twist and making you yelp.

“God you’re so spoiled.” He raised his body so that he was hovering over you and could take in your face. Your glittering eyes and thick lips beckoning for him closer.

Your fingers finally got his shirt open, fingers feeling up his lean stomach and wide chest.

“And?” You fluttered your lashes, hand going down to grip at his erection.

He grunted at the feeling of your palm rubbing at him, a chuckle struggling through.

“And I love you.”

You smiled, feeling warm all over at his confession. “I love you too.”

He pecked your lips a few times before moving to your cheeks and then your nose and forehead, giving you kisses all over your face. You giggled, basking in his affection for a moment before you remembered what you were doing.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, hands running through his soft hair. “Fuck me, Jinnie. Please.” You pulled him back down to kiss him again, this time more desperate and needy. Pushing his shirt off his shoulders and him pulling it all the way off, his lips never left yours. You went for his pants next, pushing them down enough so that his cock was freed.

Your warm palm wrapped around him, thumb swiping at the precum at his tip and smearing it around. He moaned against your lips, hips canting forward into your hand.

“Jin….hurry.” You urged, wanting him inside now.

He smirked against your mouth. “So impatient.” He pulled away from you, your breaths mingling as you both panted. You took in his flushed face—ears and cheeks flushed red and plush lips swollen and spit slicked. You had a thought to sit on his face but tucked it away for later. For now, you just needed his cock.

Seokjin pushed his pants the rest of the way off. He never wore underwear to bed so that wasn’t an issue. Gripping his cock, he stroked it a few times before lining up with your entrance.

You held your breath as he slid inside, his girth stretching you and filling you to the brim.

“You’re so wet, princess. Feel so good….” He groaned, one hand digging into your thigh to pull you closer and the other going to rest beside your head.

You inhaled a deep breath, relaxing your walls to let him push the rest of the way inside.

“Cock feels so good, Jinnie….” You breathed. “Fuck me. Now.” You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking your ankles behind his back.

Not needing to be told again, he began thrusting his cock into your slick walls. Every thrust made your walls squelch, louder than your heartbeat that pounded in your ears. Seokjin could hear it too, fingers digging harder into your thigh.

Loud staccato moans left his lips, his cock engulfed the the warm and wet heat of your pulsing walls. He could already feel his own orgasm creeping up on him, faster than he anticipated.

His moans lit something inside of you, your arms hugging him closer. Seokjin was always a vocal lover, letting you know just how good he felt and you loved that. It was also really hot to hear a man be so noisy.

You could feel that tingling once again in your lower tummy. It felt stronger than before and radiated all the way to your toes.

“I’m gonna cum.” You announced.

Seokjin groaned, shaking your arms from around his shoulders much to your displeasure. He slowed down momentarily, a bratty whine humming in your throat.

“Shush.”

He grabbed both of your legs, bringing them together and then putting them over his shoulder. He folded you in half, your knees resting on your collarbone and your bottom slightly lifting off of the bed.

This new position made your walls tighten up even further.

You could feel every inch and vein of his cock, the ridges brushing against your spot everytime. Your nails scratched at his broad back as Seokjin began hammering into your juicy cunt.

“J-Jin!!! Jin!!” You screamed. It felt like his cock was in your stomach, thrusts scrambling your brain and hurtling you towards the edge.

He leaned down to kiss you on your open mouth and your cheeks. Your walls were squeezing him tight enough for him to slow down a bit, stroking you slow and deep. Every press of his hips knocked the air out of your lungs, your fingers leaving welts across his back from how rough you were holding him.

“Mmmm-m’cumming….” You stuttered, that band in your tummy pulling taut and ready to snap.

“There you go, princess. Cum on my cock. Good girl.”

This orgasm was powerful, settling deep in your muscles and shuddering your body with pleasure.

Seokjin choked on a moan as your soaking walls clenched around him. He sped up, hips clapping against your ass as he chased orgasm.

“Gonna cum, princess….” The head of his cock rubbed against your abused sweet spot. You gasped, overstimulation starting to prickle at your throbbing cunt.

“My mouth, Jinnie. Cum in my mouth.”

He reluctantly pulled out of your pussy, your legs dropping and body lifting to get on your knees in front of him. You took him into your mouth, sucking harshly at his tip, tongue licking under the head.

His hands buried in your sweated out hair, forcing his cock further down your throat. He tossed his head back, biting at his red kissed lips as your hot mouth worked him into his orgasm.

He forced your head down until he was buried completely in your throat, moaning loudly as he came. Your fingers dug into the sheets, eyes watering as you choked around his girth.

You swallowed down every drop, waiting until Seokjin released your head before sliding off his cock.

You fell back against the sheets, trying to regain your breath. Your body felt sated and you were close to drifting off to sleep but you were suddenly flipped over onto your stomach.

“Huh?” You drowsily hummed, lifting your head and turning a little to look behind you. You gasped when you felt Seokjin’s cock fill you once again. You thought he would go back to playing his game after giving you what you wanted but you were very wrong.

“Ahhh….but what….what about your game?”

“I have a new game. Making you cum until I can play in peace.”

Uh oh…..

#bts #bts smut #bts x black reader #bts fic #seokjin smut #bts imagines #namjoon smut #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #jimin smut #hoseok smut #taehyung smut

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back2bluesidex · 1 year

Text

Wanna Be Yours - KSJ (18+)

Pairing: CEO!Seokjin X Fem!Reader

Summary: A peaceful, dreamless sleep is all you wanted after a long and boring office party but life has different plans and that plan includes the CEO of your company.

Theme: Drunk confession, fluff, dirty talk, little bit of smut.

Word count: 2883

Warnings: Strong language, a very cute drunk Seokjin, kind of unrequited feelings, drity talk. MDNI!

****************

It's 2:50 am in the morning. It's dark, it's early, it's everything but the right time to have the door of your apartment banged like this, doorbell rang like this. But it's still happening.

You open your eyes somehow. For the first couple of seconds you contemplated sleeping through it all. Why should you wake up from your precious sleep to open the door for a damn lunatic or god forbid a murderer or a rapist. But you can't take it anymore.

It's been three minutes since whoever the fuck is in door, been banging it like a lunatic. Your neighbors are already very selfish and cranky. You don't wanna irritate them any further. So you wake up. Turn the lights of your bedroom on but keep the drawing room dark.

You decide to use the peephole first and then if you find anything shady, you'll call for help. Tiptoeing towards the door, you place your eye on the peephole and you're shocked. Are you dreaming or is this reality? Maybe you're dreaming, otherwise why would the CEO of your company be standing on your door at the dead of the night? But then he bangs the door with all of his power again, making you almost fall on your butt.

Okay, so this isn't a dream but that doesn't sum up the situation or the reason Mr. Kim Seokjin will be here at your apartment at 2:50 am. You blink for a few times to throw away the remnant of sleep still tugging your eyes down. Another round of bangs echoes in your apartment clearly signifying that Mr. Kim is very impatient. You lick your lips once as you reach for the door knob.

The door creaks open, Mr. Kim's hands are in the air, as he is about to knock once more. He smiles seeing you at first and then takes you in from head to toe and toe to head. You gulp once, taking him in too. He is still in the tailored suit he wore to the party.

Earlier that evening, your company hosted a party to celebrate its silver jubilee, where everyone had a good time. There was music, dance, good food, a lot of flings, people finding people for the night or maybe for longer. However, you didn't enjoy it as much. Office parties are always the boring part of work, you think. And you hate it when they throw themselves at each other in the name of team bonding and networking. You hate it when people throw themselves at you especially, the ones you work with.

So, you spent most of the time with Jeon Jungkook. He doesn't work at your company but he is very close to Mr. Kim, almost like his own brother so he was invited. You had met him a couple of times before as he is always invited to your office events. You two get along very fine, because just like you he hates when girls and guys throw themselves at him. And some of your female coworkers having a secret crush on him, didn't really work well for the evening. So you two stuck with each other. It was a mutual agreement because no one disturbed you anymore. You two danced for a bit and then headed straight to the buffet and ate to your heart's content. But what you can't ignore is the fact that your eyes met with Mr. Kim a couple of times and his eyes were darker than usual. You two exchanged smiles and you admired how gorgeous he looked but something was off the entire time. You will lie if you say you didn’t feel a little thrill about the underlying darkness in his usual bright eyes. But that’s that. Only thrill and nothing more.

No doubt Kim Seokjin is one of the most handsome men you have ever seen. His entire existence oozes royalty, as if he is not just the CEO but the king of his dynasty.

But tonight he looked extra handsome. His tailored black Armani suit, glinting Rolex on his hand, and leather Gucci shoes screamed for attention from every present person on the floor. You were no different. As a normal woman, your eyes seek the comfort of resting on a handsome man even for the sake of it. But that's just it, you don't fancy your hot and handsome CEO. you have never looked at him like that, rather you have always idolized him. It has always amazed you how he managed to drag this company so far, pulling it out of debts and making it one of the most reputed Architecture firms in Korea. You wanted to be like him, so you kept him out of your desires.

You have hardly even talked to him out of business hours. It was maybe two to three times when he called you up to work with him on some projects that were running behind the deadlines, but again that is just business related, even if you two worked at his penthouse, in his personal office. Hence, it is really safe to say that there is no friendship whatsoever between you two, and there is absolutely no freaking reason for him to be here at this hour. Only if this visit has anything to do with that darkness you perceived earlier, then you need some answers.

“Can I come in?” Seokjin says. There is a weird tone added to his voice, which suggests that he is drunk. Okay, so maybe he lost his way and came to your apartment? Of course not! You never invited him, he definitely went through your documents to find your address, which is weird for a drunk man to do, unless he has a solid reason. And you wanna know the reason.

“Sure” you reply, as you step out of the doorway to let him in.

“Ummm… nice house. Smells so good….. Smells like you.” Seokjin murmurs as he scans your apartment once.

“Mr. Kim? What brings you here to my apartment at 2:57 am?” you ask, trying to keep your voice as polite as possible.

“I-ah… I am really sorry to bother you this late but….” he turns his body to face you. You two are still standing at the narrow space of the doorway. Your curiosity seems to take over your manner as you don’t even offer him to sit before asking him any further.

“But?” you press on the matter.

“I could not stop myself from visiting you. As you might already realize, I am quite drunk, but not wasted, I swear. I just thought it would be better to do it cause I can’t do it while I am sober.” he says, staring at the wall behind you. You don’t understand a thing. Do what and why does that include you.

“Do what?” you ask again, being polite even though your curiosity is overpowering.

“Kiss you.” he says, staring directly into your eyes. Your eyes go wide with shock. You don’t know what is happening, what is he talking about, why is he saying whatever he is saying.

“What?” Your voice is small.

“I said I wanted to kiss you because I fucking like you!” Kim Seokjin does WHAT!? Your throat feels dry in an instant. “Do you even know how jealous I was during the entire party seeing you and Jungkook spending the evening together! That punk! He even danced with you? Put his hands on your waist, on the small of your back, laughed with you, ate with you. Did everything I want to do with you cause I am in fucking love with you!!!” His voice is loud but he is not screaming at your face. You are now pinned on the wall as he hovers above you.

“You what?” you ask, bewildered.

“Look at you, you don’t even have a clue and here I am dying with each passing day because I can’t tell you that I would like to take you out on dates, drop you home after work, I want to cook for you, I wanna bake cookies with you, wanna watch movies, and every little cringy thing that couples do. I also wanna suck your lips each time you bite ‘em concentrating on a design, I wanna slide my hands under your cute little pencil skirts, I wanna unbutton your pretty blouses and bury my face in your cleavage, oh hell, I wanna fuck you bending you over my desk. I wanna fuck you until you can’t think of anyone else but me, until you scream my name.I wanna fill your cunt with my cum and force you to carry that for the rest of your shift.”

Now these words are completely vulgar, totally obscene. The CEO of the company cannot spit these words out to an employee, a model employee like you. You should get angry, furious even. But surprisingly you don't. Rather you feel something down there, something like an arousal.

It's not like you are a touch-starved woman, you have your fair share of hookups from time to time but there's something in the way Seokjin says those words. The lust is mixed with an equal amount of longing. And that makes you weak on your knees, makes you feel something warm inside your chest. The feeling is not totally unwelcomed and thus, you don’t say anything. You breathe heavily and listen to what he has to say.

However, he doesn’t say anything anymore. He only looks at you with those glossy eyes for a few seconds before his eyes drop on your lips. He starts leaning down and again, and very ridiculously, you don’t do anything. When his lips touch yours, you taste the whisky he has been drinking the entire night. But his lips are so soft, delicate, pillowy and everything you have never experienced before. His right hand comes to cup your left cheek as the left one reaches for your waist to tug you closer.

Fuck! You like it. You like the way Seokjin is kissing you, you like his taste, his manly smell, his body heat pressing onto yours. You love it all and as a result you kiss back. Seokjin groans when your lips start to move with his, rhythmically. Fuck fuck fuck!!! You fucking love it!!!!

The kiss turns hungry within moments and you find Seokjin's hand slipping into the satin shirt of your night suit. You are definitely not wearing a bra so the moment his fingers come into contact with the swell of your breasts, he moans into your mouth. His fingers reach further as he palms your tit and squeeze it hard. You grasp. You love it when your partners give your tits a little more attention and you totally love the way Seokjin is twisting your nipple between his fingers. Your hands reach up and encircle around his neck and then gradually find their way in his dark brown hair.

Seokjin’s hard length presses onto your stomach and suddenly you realise what you are doing is not right, not at all right. You can’t take advantage of his drunk state even if he just confessed to you. So, you part your lips from his, but the impatient man chases you. You chuckle a little as you put a finger on his plump swollen lips and look at him. Man! He is gorgeous. His hooded eyes, dark brown locks falling on them, his glienting lips and eyes full of lust and love make him look unreal.

“Mr. Kim, how did you get here? Do you have your car and driver with you?” you ask him, without removing your hands from his body.

“No. I called a cab.” he replies sheepishly.

“Oh”. “then stay the night”.

**********

Something feels so wet under seokjin’s cheeks. Gosh he is probably drooling again. Thanks to the wet session Jin’s peaceful sleep comes to an end. He tries to open his eyes but his eyelids are way too heavy. The softness of the pillow feels different and wait does it smell like you? Damn! It does. Is he still dreaming? The beautiful dream from last night where he confessed to you, talked dirty to you and then kissed you and felt your skin on his skin. He smiles on the pillow and then turns to lie on his back. Then it clicks. As he stares at the ceiling he realises, it’s not his room, it’s not his home. Then the door clicks open and you enter.

What. The. Fuck.

None of it was a dream?? He actually drank his ass up enough to end up in your home late at night? Then say those dirty things to you? What the actual fuck. He groans in realisation. You probably think he is a creep, a pervert. You're probably gonna lodge a complaint against him. Will you even accept his apology or will he have to lose his most disciplined and beautiful employee? But then again if it's not a dream then you apparently kissed him back, let him touch you and let him stay the night.

He tries to hoist himself up on his elbow but his head spins, thanks to all the alcohol from last night.

"Easy Mr. Kim, easy." You say, there is a playfulness added to your voice. Jin opens his eyes to take a look at you. Fuck. Why the hell are you so beautiful? You look as fresh as ocean air. How can just a simple white oversized tee and a pair of grey sweatpants make you look so alluring? He tries to measure your mood through the look on your face. There's nothing negative and he doesn't know what to feel about it all. You approach him with a bottle of hangover drink.

Standing at the side of the bed you extend your hand towards him in order to offer him the drink. Jin doesn't know what to say, how to say, hell, he can't even meet your eyes. You are kind, he knows but how will you treat him after this incident, he wonders.

He takes the drink and waits for you to leave or to say something but you do none, you only stand there with folded arms and look at him. He understands that you want him to make the move. So he clears his throat,

"I-I'm so sorry for last night." He says, looking down at the duvet, "I… I really don't have enough words to apologise to you for whatever I did last night. But trust me, I am really very ashamed. I didn't mean to bother you but…. alcohol overpowered my rationality. I can promise you nothing like this will ever happen again." He continues with a low but determined voice.

"So….. you remember everything. Good for you. Cause I need some answers." You reply, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Answers?" Seokjin is nervous now.

"Yeah."

"Okay"

"About whatever you said last night… Do you mean everything?" You ask him, with eyes trained on him.

The drunk confession is over now it's time Seokjin becomes a man and confesses to you in his sober state. This is his chance and he will do his best.

"Yes. Absolutely true. I like you so much. So damn much that it hurts when you don't see the way I look at you, smile at you. The way I wanna be yours." Finally, finally the burden is off his soldier now. Even if he has to face rejection now, he could at least say that he tried instead of being a coward.

But you don't say anything. Not a word. And Seokjin takes it as a rejection.

"I totally understand if you don't feel the same way as me. I totally understand Y/N. I didn't mean to say those words last night. I mean I was jealous but obviously you have the right to choose the one you like. Even if it’s Jungko-" he is cut off as you place your delicate lips on his plush ones. To say that he is ecstatic will be an understatement. He does not waste a single second and kisses you back. The kiss is slow and soft. He loves it, fuck! he loves you.

Parting your lips from his you say, “I will be honest Mr. Kim, I don’t feel the same as you. I have always idolzied you but never really pictured you romantically. But when you said those words last night and kissed me, something shifted and…. It felt good and real. So, I am willing to try. I wanna give this a go and if I am willing to try then I am kinda sure it will work out.” you smile easily.

Seokjin’s heart somehow drops at your confession but it also fills with hope so he reaches for your hands and engulfe those in his large veiny ones.

“I promise I will make you fall for me, just give me a month.” he requests, giving your hands a squeeze. You nod in agreement.

“Make me wanna be yours just as desperately as you wanna be mine” you say slowly before your lips meet his in order to taste them yet again.

*************

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie

#bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #seokjin smut #seokjin fluff #seokjin fanfic #seokjin x reader #jin smut #jin fluff #jin angst #jin x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction

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raplinesmoon · 9 months

Text

Just Jin (KSJ x F!Reader)

pairing: Barbie!reader x Ken!Seokjin genres/au/rating: angst (with a happy ending!), fluff, Barbie au, break-up au, PG-13 summary: After a trip to the real world, you and Jin both come to a realization that will change your lives forever.

warnings: break-ups, sadness, existential crisis, mentions of doctor's appointments

word count: 1.5k

a/n: I'm still working on mafia!Hoseok but listen my brain has been wired since I came out of the Barbie movie earlier today. It legitimately changed me as a person, and I felt inspired to create this bc I think Jin gives off such Ken energy. This is based on but also slightly altered from the Barbie movie, and as such, it will contain massive spoilers for the movie, so read at your own risk (go see the movie tho)! Anyways this was just a fun, goofy indulgent drabble that made my heart warm, and I hope you enjoy!

Tip-toeing through the dream house, you try to ignore the sensation of your feet cramping. After learning the wonders of being flat-footed, standing on your heels was no joke. No wonder women in the real world complained about wearing stilettos all the time. But right now wasn’t about the pain women felt to conform to societal expectations of beauty. There were centuries to go before those outdated notions of what it meant to be a successful woman were squashed. Right now, there was something more pressing you had to deal with.

Things had changed since you left. The dream house seemed more like a nightmare, its pristine pink walls besmirched with posters of sports icons and various forms of taxidermy. You frown to yourself. This wasn’t the house you’d known. The life you’d lived before with Jin seemed nothing more than a distant memory, both of you tainted by your experiences in the real world.

Jin. Speaking of him, you knew you had to find him. When you’d learned from the others that he’d gone off the rails, worry clouded your mind. Not just for him, but for all the others – Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook too. They were all so impressionable, more fragile than they let on. It scared you to think of the state you might find him in right now. And that’s when you hear it.

The sound is muffled, but you can barely make it out against the quiet that nightfall brings. It’s a choked sob, guttural and raw in its devastation. And it’s coming from your bedroom. Ignoring the newfound feeling of your heart clutching in your chest, you square up your shoulders, ready to face what lay ahead. And then you head upstairs.

The door creaks as it opens, and you flinch, hoping the sound won’t give away your entry into the room. But there’s no response. Feeling braver, you push it wider and gasp at the state of everything. For all the horses and saloon decorations Jin had implemented downstairs, the upstairs of your dream house is pristine. Exactly untouched the same way you’d left it. The pearls on your lampstand glisten in the moonlight, the walls are free of garish posters, and the same plush pink and purple sheets adorn your bed. And in the middle of it, Jin lies facedown, unmoving.

Freezing, you take him in, noticing how small he looks right now, curled up into himself. Jin had always been larger than life – his windshield wiper laugh echoing down the entire beach, his dad jokes catching the admiration of everyone around him, a smile plastered onto his stupidly handsome face with those perfectly pouty lips. He’s wearing the same sleeveless denim outfit you’re always used to seeing him in, unlike the other boys, who’d bought into new and more trendy fashions.

If he feels the bed dip when you sit next to him, he doesn’t show it. You finally reach for him, pressing a gentle hand to his shoulder.

“Jin?” you whisper softly. “It’s me.”

He doesn’t move. Your heart sinks, knowing how difficult this was for both of you. But you needed to do this.

“Can we please talk?

That’s what gets him to rise, silky black hair disheveled and eyes rimmed with the red of his tears.

“What could you possibly want to talk about?” he croaks out, sniffling into his sleeve. “Everything is ruined.”

The same guilty feeling bubbles up in your chest, knowing part of him is right. Everything had been ruined. But not in the way you’d expected. When you and Seokjin had entered the real world, you’d been unprepared to have your lives change forever. No matter how much you tried to pretend that things could just go back to the same way they’d been before, they couldn’t. And both of you knew it.

“I’m sorry Jin,” you let out a sob of your own. “I never meant for things to turn out this way.”

Jin hardens at your sobs, straightening up, the sadness on his face morphing into a mask of fury.

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry?!” he bellows. “Sorry doesn’t cut it! This was supposed to be our dream house, ___! That's why I went through all the stupid decorations and the revamp! You think I like saloons? No! But this was supposed to be our dream! Us, together! It’s always been ___ and Jin. I don’t know how to be anything without you! I don’t want anything to change. I love you!”

You embrace his trembling body, pulling it in close to yours.

“I love you too Jin. I always have, and I always will. But I’m not sure that love is enough anymore.”

Jin pulls away from you, and you watch his eyes widen in surprise, giving you the strength to go on.

“When we were out there, something changed. I realized that while what we had was perfect, it’s okay to not be perfect all the time. Not everything is a dream come true. Sometimes things don’t turn out the way you want them to, and that’s life. A-and I want to experience life Jin. I’m sick of just smiling all the time. I want to cry, I want to scream, I want to laugh. And I want that for you too.”

“All I’ve ever wanted was you,” Jin breathes out softly. “It feels like I failed you.”

“Hey,” you reach out to him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “You didn’t fail me, or anyone else, okay? You’re enough. Maybe it’s time for us to stop being ___ and Jin. And to be just ___. And just Jin.”

He looks up at you, stars in his eyes, and you can see the sadness intertwined with hopefulness. “You really think we can find something better out there? Something that makes leaving this all behind worth it?”

You take his hand in yours.

“I know we can. And we will. But we can’t do it together. At least not right now.”

A tiny smile breaks out onto his face. “But maybe someday?”

You hesitate, not wanting to believe in false hope only to turn out devastated in the end. But Jin needed something to believe in. And so did you.

“Maybe someday, when we both have found out what makes us happy, what our reason is to live, we’ll find love again. We both deserve it.”

And Jin crumples for a second time in your arms that night, only this time it’s not from devastation. It’s the kindness in your voice that has him desperately believing that you could be right. That maybe someday both of you would figure out what these strange and complex emotions were - joy, happiness, fun. And real love. True love. They were, after all, what being a human was all about.

You thank the taxi driver, hopping out of the vehicle. Flexing your feet, you remark at how comfortable the new pink slides feel on them, your heels no longer arched and uncomfortably cramping. The sales associate had called them Birkenstocks, and you make a mental note to go back and buy a few other colors.

The building is tall, sleek and modern not unlike the scary headquarters of some rich corporation that seeks to swindle the money of innocent consumers. But today, you’re not scared to go inside this building. You’re excited.

The excitement follows you up the elevator, a smile on your face. Hearing the ding! for your floor, you make your way out, when you’re stopped by the old woman next to you.

“You have a beautiful smile, dear.”

That only makes it grow wider.

“Thank you, you look beautiful too.”

You don’t know why, but the serene and dazed look on her face stays with you as you enter the glass doors to the office.

Making your way to the front desk, you practice the carefully rehearsed lines in your head. When you reach it, the receptionist is tapping away at the keyboard.

“Hi!” You say brightly. “My name is ___ ____. I’m here for my gynecologist appointment!”

The receptionist finally peers out from behind the screen and you suck in a breath. Something about him seems so familiar. Broad shoulders, pouty lips, dark hair. But in your entire human life, you never recalled seeing him before. The weird sense of deja vu continues when he opens his mouth to speak.

“Nice to meet you, ___, and welcome to Bangtan Center for Women’s Health. My name is Ken Seokjin and I’ll be happy to help you get checked in today!”

You don’t know why you flush at his words, but you fidget with your fingers behind your back, hoping he can’t see you.

“Great Mr. Ken! It’s my first time here, so I’m kind of nervous.”

“Just call me Jin,” he smiles. “I’m happy to help out.”

He pauses for a moment, ears turning red, before continuing on:

“Say, you look really familiar. Have we met somewhere before?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” you grin, before faltering. “But I don’t think so.”

“Well in that case, it’s nice to meet you again.” He reaches out over the counter, offering his hand, and you don't hesitate before enveloping it in yours, shivering at its warmth.

“Nice to meet you as well, just Jin.”

a/n pt. 2: I realize this kind of deviated from the movie and some of its themes, but I had to make it work with their relationship hehe. As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

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wintaerbaer · 8 months

Text

in between (ksj)

summary: It's nights like this that are embedded into your memory—your face fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck, his chin resting on top of your head, your arms and legs thoroughly tangled together.

pairing: Seokjin x Reader

rating: all ages

genre: established relationship au

word count: 1.8k

warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, heavy angst, mentions of traumatic pregnancy/labor if you squint

a/n: this was originally a small piece i wrote for a class about a decade ago, which i then adjusted into a fic for a fandom that's no longer around. since i've never been able to get it out of my head, i figured it'd be fun to revise and re-release it again! dedicated to @btsborahaee who is apparently the angst demon that possessed me when i wrote it <3

MASTERLIST

He never fails to amaze you.

You lean in the doorway, watching as he cradles the baby to his chest and croons soft phrases of love into the girl's ear, trying to get her to fall back asleep. He's shirtless, flannel sleep pants slung low on his hips, bare feet pressed to the hardwood floor.

He's never looked more handsome in his life.

After a couple minutes of the baby's incessant cries, he moves to the rocking chair by the window in surrender. The moon turns his face a silvery white, highlighting the ruffled hair and stubbly shadow of a beard. You’ve never seen him with a considerable amount of facial hair before, and you don’t yet know how you feel about it.

He rocks back and forth gently—the chair creaking under him and the baby still whimpering pitifully in his arms. He doesn't see you as you watch him calm the child, whispering now. His voice is so low that it's hard to hear, but you definitely pick up something that sounds like "So pretty. Just like mommy."

Amazing how he can make you smile even when he doesn't intend to.

His quiet whispers mollify the baby faster than would seem possible, and it's not long before the girl has drifted off to sleep, tiny face pressed into his bare chest. He continues to gently sway in the chair, staring at the wall, and when he shifts his head, you can see that his eyes are shining.

The sight of his tears has you backing out of the doorframe and padding down the hall, feeling sick to your stomach. The walls around you are so horrifyingly blank and merely add to your growing anxiety. You wonder how long they'll stay that way.

You take the stairs down to the living room, not knowing what to do except make yourself scarce. You pace around the room, dodging all sorts of new things for the baby—items that haven't found a place in your home yet and are therefore just sitting in the living room until they do. Somebody really should make an effort to clean it up, but no one has the time.

It's eerily quiet down here. The only sounds are the soft ticking of the clock in the kitchen and the occasional creak from the rocking chair upstairs. Moonlight filters in through the window, casting a glow upon the room that should be calming; instead, it highlights all of the objects haphazardly strewn about the couch and the table and the floor, and the overall effect is nothing short of creepy.

You take a seat on the couch, right next to a stuffed elephant that stares up at you with beady eyes—a gift from one of your aunts or some distant cousin. You run your hands over the tiny thing, wondering what its fate will be. A future favorite of your daughter's perhaps? Or will he be condemned to a life in one of the closets? His melancholy gaze seems to ask you why you even care in the first place, and truth be told, you don’t really know. Maybe you just identify with him at the moment, with a fate so unpredictable and currently feeling as though you’re stuck in some kind of middle ground where you’re neither homeless nor sheltered.

The sound of a door closing startles you from your thoughts. Slipping across the study and into your bedroom, you find Seokjin lying on the bed wide awake, his eyes still glistening. Crawling in next to him, you press yourself into his side, stretching your body over warm skin. It's nights like this that are embedded into your memory—your face fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck, his chin resting on top of your head, your arms and legs thoroughly tangled together. You lie together in near silence, his ragged breathing the only thing disturbing the quiet. You squeeze closer, willing him to sleep just as he had done with your daughter moments ago.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispers as his eyes finally slip shut.

"I know," you tell him. "I know."

You’re sitting in the kitchen when you hear the front door open and shut.

"Honey, I'm home." His voice drifts to you from the foyer, the first lines of a ritual you had created in jest during college when you’d return to your shared apartment after days of classes.

"Hello, dear. How was work today?" is the traditional response you call back.

"Just swell, sweetheart. Just swell." He'd usually laugh after that, unable to contain his boyish amusement over how cheesy it is, but when he delivers the line today, his voice is soft and sober.

He hesitates by the stairs, leaning ever so slightly against the railing and kneading his forehead with the heel of his hand. He takes in the sight of the kitchen with all of the food that is lying around, practically covering every surface. Sighing, he moves to the sink, pressing his hands against the counter.

You stare at him, not knowing what to do, when his legs suddenly buckle and he's sliding down to the floor, shaking with sobs.

You leap to your feet, rushing over to where he's sitting up with his back against the counter and his knees pulled up nearly to his chest. Wrapping your arms around him, you brush your lips against his forehead, his ear, whispering anything and everything and just begging him to stop. Because, dammit, Jungkook and Hobi are right upstairs taking care of the baby and you don't want anyone else to see him like this. Not when he's been doing so well.

It's not long before you find that your own cheeks are wet, tears stinging your eyes. You hate having to see him this broken, hate even more how there's nothing you can do to help, how all you can do is hold him and pray that he'll get better.

Roughly ten minutes pass before his friends come bustling down the stairs to see what the commotion is. Even they can't help crying as they join you on the floor, offering hugs and words of comfort as he continues to break down.

Another half hour passes before he finally manages to compose himself and goes upstairs to see your daughter.

You huddle outside the bedroom door, listening to Seokjin read the girl a bedtime story. Your daughter is so incredibly quiet, soaking up the words like a dry sponge. Occasionally she'll ask a question about the story or one of the characters, but for the most part, she doesn't say a word—she barely even moves.

When the story is over, you hear your husband shifting around, closing the book and putting it back on its shelf in the corner.

"Daddy?" comes your daughter's voice after a moment.

"Yeah, baby girl?"

"Did Snow White and the prince live happily ever after?"

You hear a creak as he sits back down on the side of the bed. "Yeah, sweetie, they lived happily ever after. They got married and had a beautiful little girl just like you." There's a squeal as he leans down to tickle her.

Once your daughter's laughter has subsided, she asks another question, "Daddy, did you and mommy live happily ever after?"

There is a pregnant pause where everything in the world seems to go completely still in anticipation of his answer.

"Yeah," he eventually says, voice cracking ever so slightly. "Yeah, we did."

The sound of rustling sheets fills the void as he properly tucks her in. "You need to get some sleep now. You have a big day tomorrow."

"School!" she squeals.

"That's right, baby. School."

"Is mommy going to visit me tonight since it's a big day tomorrow?"

You hear him take a ragged breath. These questions must be taking their toll on him. "Mommy visits you every night, sweetie."

"Because she loves me?" your daughter asks.

"Yeah, because she loves you."

There's a pause as the girl thinks this over. "I love mommy too, daddy."

"I know, baby. Me too." And he must be crying now because there's a telling catch in his voice.

But that's okay because there are tears streaming down your own face.

You peek your head in the doorway, watching him press a kiss to the girl's forehead before he stands, turning off the light as he leaves the room. When he passes you, you examine his face--dark shadows that weren't there five years ago lurk under his eyes and his cheekbones are more prominent than they used to be. But still, you’re proud of the fact that he hasn't completely let himself go.

Once he's gone down the hall and disappeared down the stairs, you move into your daughter's room and sit on the edge of the bed, just as Seokjin had done only moments before.

The girl is completely buried under the covers with only her head sticking out. She's a tiny little thing, with her father's dark eyes and her mother's smile. And she's smart. She's so incredibly smart, with one hell of an imagination to match.

You run your fingers over your daughter's face, her hair, but not touching—no, never touching. You can't. You simply can't. Can't touch; can't feel. Most days, you don't know if this existence that you’re living is a blessing or a curse. Because you get to see your little girl grow up, but you do this knowing that your child will never know you—she'll never know the mother who died giving her life. And on top of that, you also bear witness to every second of your husband's grief.

But right now, looking down at your daughter, you just can't regret getting to see her grow older.

You brush your lips against the girl's forehead, her nose, her cheek. Then you make yourself pull away, whispering a "Good luck tomorrow, baby" before you stand up, taking note, as you always do, of the plush elephant that's sitting on the nightstand and bathing in moonlight.

And then you leave, taking the familiar trip downstairs and into your bedroom (because no matter what it will always be your bedroom) where your husband is lying on the bed, eyes wide open. This, too, has become a sort of ritual for the two of you, even though he doesn't really know it. And yet, he never seems to be able to sleep until you’re cuddled into his side.

"I love you, Y/N," he always says right before he closes his eyes.

"I know," is your reply. "I know."

a/n: sorry :') please remember to like/reblog!

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #bts angst #bts fic #bts fanfic #seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #seokjin angst #seokjin fic #seokjin fanfic #seokjin imagines

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kingofbodyrolls · 4 months

Text

BTS fic recs: December 2023

HAPPY NEW YEARS!! 🥳 May every single one of you lovely people out there have the best and brightest year to come ✨

I want to thank each and every writer on this list for creating such wonderful stories and art - you are truly amazing ✨ All the fics on this list hold a dear place in my heart 🥹

❗Most of these fics are smutty as hell, so minors dni.❗

If you read anything on this list and you like it, please leave a comment to the writer or reblog the original fic’s post 💜And if you want more fic recs you can follow me to stay updated 🙂

BTS fic rec index → May | Jun | Jul | Aug | Sep (jjk)(knj) | Oct (pjm) | Nov (*) | 💜 (ksj)(kth) |

Emoji meaning → angst = 🌩️, smut = 🥵, fluff = 🥰, comedy = 😂, yandere = 😈, thriller/dark = 👻, personal favorites = 💯.

Namjoon

⭐Good Neighbor @sugaurora [0.7K] // knj x f.reader // neighbors!au, winter!au // 🥰🥰🥰

📝 Namjoon’s solitary tendencies versus the cookies. Spoiler: The cookies win.

🗨️ God, this was so fucking sweet 🥹 like sugary sweet fluffy fantastic! I loved it 💖 the way Namjoon just observes oc, and then helping her in the end 👏🏾 even though this is short, it’s fucking brilliant. The writing is just 😘😘 like I wished there was so much more, but I’m also so pleased with just what is 😌

⭐A Word from our Sponsors 💯 @ugh-yoongi [17.5K] // knj x f.reader // podcast!au, f2l, idiots to lovers // 😂🥵🥰

📝 You’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it.

🗨️ Okay. This. Was. Exceptional ✨🥹 I am slightly speechless, so this review might be short or long or just a rambling of my dainty thoughts. Here goes: it was amazing, seriously one of the best fics I’ve ever read 😭 everything just had that perfect flow, the writing was incredible, like I can’t even speak? The characters, out of this world fantastic ✨ the whole thing, just, perfect. Perfection. I don’t know what else to call it, sorry. The world building and tension was so fucking delicious I just ate it up! 😭 And their banter and chemistry was just off the charts amazing. Perfection. And it was so fucking hilarious too!! Many times I was just laughing or chuckling, like the lovesick fool I am 😂 it was definitely worth it to stay up late tonight to finish this masterpiece ✨ And them reading the fanfiction 💀 😂 priceless ✨👏🏾

Seokjin

⭐The IKEA Test by @yoon-bug [9.1K] // ksj x f.reader // established relationship // 🥵🥰😂

📝 One review on IKEA’s website called the BRIMNES bed frame the leading cause of divorce due to its difficult assembly. You and Seokjin had laughed when you read it. Now, you weren’t so sure.

🗨️ Their banter and all the sexual innuendos are damn hilarious! I thoroughly enjoyed this very much 💜

⭐I Don’t Think I’m Okay by @ressjeon [4K] // ksj x f.reader // slice of life, idiots to lovers!au, childhood friends!au // 🥵🥰🌩️

📝 With many chances wasted, you couldn’t even resist anymore.

🗨️ A cute little Seokjin fic 🥰

⭐Turn Back Time 💯 by @raplinesmoon [13.3K] // ksj x f.reader // time travel!au // 🥵🥰🌩️😂

📝 After total humiliation at his middle school baseball try outs, Kim Seokjin wants nothing more than for his awkward years to fade away until he’s thirty. Cue a magic baseball glove, and his wish is finally granted. Seokjin suddenly wakes up seventeen years later, now the star pitcher of the team he’d always dreamed of playing for. Confused and overwhelmed at the prospect of the new life waiting for him, he turns to the only person who seems to understand him — you. Will Seokjin learn what it truly means to be thirty, flirty, and thriving? Or will he find himself wishing he could turn back time?

🗨️ Seokjin’s childhood/school was just, ugh, I really felt heartache for thirteen year old Seokjin 🥹 So very common as a kid, to wish you’re older – and then it’s just not what he expected at all. I really loved it! There were a few times I was laughing so damn hard, times where I was shedding a few tears as well. Just, incredibly good; very well written, the story was captivating and motivating, just yeah, brilliant. (Sorry, I’m suddenly bad with words). I loved the ‘lessons’ he learned, and then having the luxury (I’m using that word because we don’t have that irl) of going back to his childhood (almost like starting over) and damn it was good 👏💯

Yoongi

⭐Sinful Lust [series; ongoing] 💯 by @oddinary4bts [wordcount loading…] // myg x jjk x f.reader // established relationship, bisexual boyfriend!Yoongi, slice of life // 🥵🌩️

📝In an attempt to spice up your bedroom life with your boyfriend Min Yoongi, you suggest bringing another man into the action. Yoongi seems reluctant at first, but when you mention his friend Jeon Jungkook, he can’t deny his attraction. All that’s left to do is to convince Jungkook into participating…

🗨️ Holy 😱 😱 😱 this is just completely unadulterated sin 🥵🫣 I can not describe how much I love this fic! It has A LOT of angst and at times it’s just sad reading how each character falls apart 😭 it’s amazing! If you’re into stories that will have you question your own morals and who to root for, this is for you 💖

⭐In Between the Pages of You [series; ongoing] @unique-high [wordcount loading…] // myg x f.reader // s2l // 🥰😂🌩️

📝 Yoongi fell in love with you. A girl he had never even met before. Knew everything that you were made up of within 96 pages of a worn red journal with a nirvana sticker on front, with coffee and tea-stained pages that also smelled of lilacs and summer.

🗨️ I can already tell that this story will be amazing; it’s so sweet, cute and tender. The storyline/idea is really cute and fluffy, like who wouldn’t love that?? 😭 And as someone who wrote countless journals as a teen, this one just hits differently. It’s so cute and the concept is gold 💜 I really, really look forward to reading the next chapters and what Yoongi will uncover of OC through her journal. And if he can return it to her sometime and they meet! 🥹

⭐F*ck Christmas 💯 @sailoryooons [23.4K] // myg x f.reader // f2l // 🥰🥵

📝 Making hating Christmas your entire personality was never the plan. Then again, it seems bad things only ever happen around Christmas - like discovering your fiancé cheating on you, forcing you to move back to your sleepy hometown. But Min Yoongi happens to love Christmas, and if there is one thing your very stubborn childhood crush is going to do, it’s try to reignite your Christmas spirit. Even if he has to force-feed it to you with gingerbread cookies and too-sweet eggnog.

🗨️ Gosh, I remember reading this sometime last year and it was perfection - it still is! ✨ It’s so so so fucking good. If you haven’t read it, please do so 🥹 it’s also one of the best Christmasy fics 💜

Hoseok

⭐Ho Ho Horrible 💯 @ugh-yoongi [5.6K] // jhs x f.reader // e2l, neighbor!au, holiday!au // 🥵🥰😂

📝 (or, the one where your neighbor is a relentless christmas caroler and refuses to take a hint, but at least he's really hot.)

🗨️ No– this was just so freaking cute! 😭 Like fluffy cute and also extremely funny, just what I love. I loved this so much 💜 OC’s friendship with Tae, their banter was 💯 and then with Hobi, just so so good! It was so cute and OC’s internal dialogue is just funny 😂A really cute holiday themed Hoseok fic that I can’t recommend enough!!!! Everything was just great. Had me smiling and giggling a few times – please go read it 🥹💜

⭐Started with a Sparkle, now we’re on Fire @the-boy-meets-evil [6.5K] // jhs x f.reader // f2l // 🥵

📝 You're feeling self conscious about your recent break-up and hoseok is more than happy to teach you a thing or two.

🗨️ Really really good! I really liked it 💜 I really loved how both sweet and demanding Hoseok was, guiding oc through everything.

Jimin

⭐Couchsurfer 💯 @heartbeatan [6K] // pjm x f.reader // s2l // 🥵🥰

📝 This was left intentionally blank 🫥

🗨️ Omg this was so fucking good! 💯 First, really well written and the pacing was lovely, even though it’s short and one night they spend together 🥹 the build up of their tension and their chemistry was off the charts! So impeccably done! Fuck. I loved it ✨ it’s insane how good this story is and Jimin is just so sweet, romantic and nasty 🥵 I can’t tell you how turned on I got by the description of how Jimin handled OC, like damn 🥵 this is so fucking good, please don’t sleep on the this beauty 💖 Normally, I’m not one for one night stands, because I catch feelings for the characters, but this has a lovely ending that I loved - so fucking good!

Lol. Can not stop screaming about this one. Please go read it, fuck. PLEASE 😌 ✨

⭐Paper Hearts @namfinessed [9K] // pjm x f.reader // f2l, college!au // 🥰

📝 hearts fragile like paper, tear it or don’t?

🗨️ I think it is both cute and heartwarming, with their foolishness and stubbornness towards each other. I loved how the fic becomes full circle with the description of love by both Jimin and reader and then again at the end - really, really beautiful! 😍 I really loved this, it was well written, their friendship and love really shined through too! If you haven’t read this one yet, you really should 💜

Taehyung

⭐The Wannabe-Photographer Chronicles [series] by @gimmethatagustd [14K] // kth x f.reader // frenemies to lovers // 🥵

📝 You’re so tired of Kim Taehyung’s hipster, wannabe-photographer ass. You’re so tired of Kim Taehyung’s stupid smile and stupid jokes and stupid way of getting under your skin and sticking in your brain.

🗨️ At first I did not realize that this was a series, therefore I’ve linked to the masterlist, lol. Anyway, this series is just so fucking hot, like WHAT 🥵 There’s a lot of banter and their mutual ‘hatred’ for each other just makes this hit incredible hard. Really amazing ✨

⭐Loverboy 💯 by @kookslastbutton [7.1K] // kth x f.reader // established relationship // 🥵🥰🌩️

📝 After a startling conversation with your coworkers, you start feeling insecure about your sexual prowess. You don't initiate as much, you haven't worn lingerie yet, and you're still timid about doing much seducing with your body–are you giving your boyfriend boring sex? Taehyung reassures you that you are perfect and have nothing to worry about.

🗨️ These coworkers gotta go, okay?! 😠🤣 Planting seeds of doubt in OC’s head, no, no. Tae to the rescue!! He is so sweet in this too, yes a real ‘loverboy’ 😍 Gosh and then best friend Jimin - that was just pure gold, their relationship and how he helps OC 🥹 That is friendship goals!! A sweet, loving and comforting Taehyung fic - I loved it ✨

⭐Hush, yeah? [series; ongoing/hiatus] by @kithtaehyung [wordcount loading…] // kth x f.reader // brother’s best friend!au, music festival!au // 🥵

📝 Who knew an innocent accident could turn things so dirty..

🗨️ Pure gold ✨ — I don’t really have much to say, except GO READ IT.

⭐Under wraps by @jungkxook [15K] // kth x f.reader // e2l, fake dating // 🥵🥰

📝 There’s nothing you and taehyung seem to hate more than each other - except for christmas. having recently been dumped by your (now ex) boyfriend only seems to make this holiday even worse. but when taehyung suggests that you should pretend to be dating each other to save you both the embarrassment, pity, and bothersome questions from family and friends alike for a fun carefree month of celebrations, you can’t possibly say no.

🗨️ I just love me some good enemies to lovers AU 🥵 the relationship between OC and tae is really good, I think the tension between them was well built 👏🏾 I loved how their relationship unfolded and grew through their fake dating 🥹 the way OC realized she had feelings for him, but he had showed her before in his subtle moves, how much more he relaxed in her presence. I loved the interaction between oc and tae’s parents too, the way that they could obviously tell that OC was head over heels 😂 ah just, It was really really good! It was funny, it was comforting, and such a lovely read around Christmas! And the smut was sweet and tender (also hot!) 😍 a really great fic that I’ll add to my Christmas re-reads for years to come ✨ I loved it! Please go read it if you haven’t already 🥹

⭐Somebody Else 💯 by @jamaisjoons [4.2K] // kth x f.reader ft. yoongi // established relationship + post break up!au // 🥵🌩️

📝 Yoongi doesn’t want you anymore. but he can’t stand watching you with someone else.

🗨️ Holy s– 🥵 I don’t even know where to begin with this one! It’s really good and the that is mainly from Yoongi’s pov makes it truly special – he is observing them and damn is it hot 🥵 Aish, really good 💯

Jungkook

Nothing this month 😞 — I AM SO SORRY that I haven’t read any with JK this month (though he is featuring in some with the other members). My JK ‘to read’ list is the LONGEST imao 😂 I’ll hopefully do better next month – but you can always check my Jungkook Library 💜

I have spend most of December being on holiday/time off, which gave me a lot of time to write my own stuff, which in the end gave me less time to read 😣 But it’s all good! I loved getting some stories and thoughts out of my head and now there’s space to read and obsess over other’s stories again 😀

Borahae 💜

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oftenderweapons · 4 months

Text

Down The Rabbit Hole | KSJ

Pairing: Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Fawn)

Wordcount: 12.5k

Genre: one shot, pwp, smut, fluff, only mild angst, fwb au (?) kinda(?)?, divorced! seokjin, dilf!seokjin

Rating: 18+, minors please do not read or interact

Synopsis: Seokjin has been meeting Fawn at The Rabbit Hole for a while now. A place of debauchery and foregone inhibitions, and yet only one rule would not budge. Will Fawn finally have a taste of the forbidden fruit?

Warnings: DILF!Seokjin (it's a trigger warning in and of itself), oral sex (female receiving, attempt at male receiving), masturbation (female receiving), degradation kink, corruption kink, handcuffs, sex toys (vaginal sphere), dry humping, unprotected sex, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, breast slapping, voyeurism & exhibitionism. Mentions of divorce procedures, mentions of Seokjin's three precious daughters. Brief cameo of our lovely darlings Namjoon & Mia.

As always, thanking the magical girlie that made this fic a bit more coherent @nervous-moon and the special friends that made me get here. Also, a special thank you to past me, who persevered and got off birth control for this fic LOL

As always, please remember that showing some love to fics will power authors through the major struggles of this platform and will eventually make them write bigger, better, bolder fics 💕

You’ve known Seokjin for two months. He’s stunning, he’s smart, he’s friendly and adorably chirpy — before the games begin.

Here's my masterlist, enjoy you spicy little nuggets

Read more of this AU | MYG | KNJ

You’ve known Seokjin for two months. He’s stunning, he’s smart, he’s friendly and adorably chirpy — before the games begin.

Once you’re in the room, the sweet father-of-three turns into a man with no restraints. He has an appetite for all things cunning and controlling.

He tells you how to do things. He tells you when, for how long. Harder, faster, rougher, deeper.

He always asks for more,

He is insatiable and ruthless.

However, despite what that introduction might make it sound, there’s so much more of him you haven’t had: all your previous encounters were only foreplay.

His list of previous inhibitions was so long that in two three-hour-long sessions you hadn’t yet tackled anything regarding his dick inside your vagina — truly a shame, since that’s a perfectly beautiful, perfectly thick, perfectly long dick, and you would know since you’ve acquainted with it through your hands, mouth and boobs.

Seokjin is the most promising man you’ve never had sex with; that is, you’ve had sex with plenty of mediocre men, and a couple good ones, you’ve double checked handfuls of men on the streets, but he’s by far the one you can bet will give you the ride of your life. You don’t know why, you just know.

And maybe, if you’re lucky enough, that will happen tonight.

“Here’s my pretty fawn,” he says once he notices you at a corner table, out of the main floor where people are starting to mingle. He kisses the too of your head. “How were these weeks apart?”

“Hi,” you tell him, and from the little somersault of your rib cage, you can tell the distance did make the heart grow fonder. “It was chaotic, but I survived.”

“You’re a tough cookie, Fawn. By now you should know there’s nothing you can’t overcome if you put your mind to it,” he says, proud, reassuring.

It’s the same tone he uses for ‘you take it so well” and ‘that’s my golden girl’ and ‘come on, Fawn, just one more, sweetheart’.

You melt. You know you melt, and your body betrays you because you can feel the heaviness in your lower belly, and you can tell that your core will be coated in wetness in about eight seconds.

“As for my past few days, I’ve been busy, as usual.”

“How are the girls?” you ask, eager to imagine more bits of them.

“Lily is turning ten next week, as I told you. Rose is getting better at biking, and soon we’ll be able to go for short outings in public together, And then darling Daisy has just called a truce with spinach so we have added one more ingredient to our weekly rotation.” As Seokjin talks about his daughters, something in his face lights up and you can imagine the man he must be outside these walls, far from the reign of debauchery he slips into once every other week. A dedicated man, committed, domestic, devoted. He smiles when he talks about his girls, his whole world brightens, like they were his personal constellation showing him the way.

“Did you recover from our last session?” he asks, concerned, meek, respectful. He is so kind to you, always.

“I did…” You keep it vague because telling him that you've been laying on your back, fucking yourself with your largest toy, gasping and hiccuping his name doesn't feel like a productive angle for an answer. Not the kind of answer you want to give him in public anyways.

“Any notes about what we did last time? Anything relevant we should renegotiate?”

I want us to walk through the door tonight and I want you to throw me on the bed, bend me over, lift my skirt and fuck me straight up, because you are the reason I'm going commando under this effing tight dress, you try to tell him with your eyes, the tilt of your head, the little lick of your lips and the light bite at your lower one.

“No, nothing relevant, really.”

He stares at your mouth for a hot second, and you can only hope he's thinking about the last time he's come on it.

“So you want…” He hesitates as he thinks about the next step. “You wanna keep this foreplay only.”

You cock an eyebrow at him, then you take a sip of your drink, and click your tongue a couple times, as if trying to savour the wine. “You're the one in command. You know that.”

“I command you when you're naked. And you're dressed now, alas.” He cocks an eyebrow right back at you, mirroring your sarcastic snare. “And this is a matter of consent and limits, which means we're equals right now. The games haven't yet begun, Fawn.”

You look around, as if the other clients could possibly help you in this situation.

You want him, you're dying to have him, and if he could bend you over, spank you and fuck you right over one of the entrance tables, you'd let him.

You'd probably also let him come inside, or do other slightly demeaning acts to humiliate you.

“We can play it however it lays, no pressure.” That's what you tell him, really trying not to betray your true intentions.

“Do you, or do you not?” he asks, and you do feel pressured.

“What do you want me to say?” You provoke him, staring him down. “Because this is sounding like you have indeed an answer you want to hear from me.”

He shakes his head, exasperated. “Fawn. You don't usually struggle with telling me what you want. You want foreplay or you want us to fuck?”

“Either is fine. We'll see that later.” You down more of your drink and he stares at your throat as you swallow. You catch him staring and you feel heat creep to your cheeks, but you’re not embarrassed, rather pleased with his distraction.

Too bad you’re not him and you can’t tell he’s been sizzling with want for days. He’s been separated for years now, but with the divorce practice being completed in a few weeks, he’d been more tense than usual. He knows he’s doing the right thing leaving his marriage behind, however the idea of raising three daughters alone, and giving his ex-wife the chance to start the kind of life she’s been too ashamed to pursue is terrifying.

Lily, Rose and Daisy are the joy of his life, but soon Lily will enter adolescence and her mother will be there for her, sure, but he’s been the one consistently raising them for the past five years, almost turning into a stay-at-home dad for them, while Ara was busy rebuilding her career and travelling and saving money to afford moving out by herself.

He supported her. Their marriage had ended for all the best — though most painful — reasons: they didn’t love each other anymore, not as partners at least. He could tell she was no longer happy, she hadn’t been since Rose had been born. Daisy was probably the last straw. He’d rather have his girls having a happy mother than have a miserable spouse for himself and a mediocre parent for his children. And he knew the girls would learn the right lesson from this: you can only be loved right when the one you love knows how to love themselves.

Plus, he could tell he hadn’t been loving Ara right for a while. He could bring himself to stay loyal to her and respect her and be there for her; still, he also knew he owed himself actual happiness, and he would be a coward if he refused to go look for it because he was afraid of not finding it, or getting hurt in the process.

And now you’ve entered the picture. He’s seen a bunch of people before you, but he knew they weren’t quite right — he’d even issued post-session feedback where he stated he didn’t want to be matched again with two of the women he’d spent the night with.

He’d entered the Rabbit Hole with the purpose of some light-hearted fun with other adults who, like him, had already seen a fair share of life and could also have the same mature and intellectual approach towards intimacy.

A friend of his had driven him here after a particularly bad date with a woman almost twelve years younger than him who seemed more interested in being the girls’ mother than his girlfriend first.

Being honest, he’d spotted you the first time he’d seen you at the Rabbit Hole, but he’d never pursued you because he believed in the system matching him according to his profile. He assumed you wanted something off-limits to him — maybe you were into getting your partner tied up, or leashed like a pet, or entirely enslaved — but apparently it was just a matter of letting the match play itself.

It happened around his fifth or sixth party: he had entered the foyer thinking he would once more spend his pregame staring at you from the opposite table, drinking, getting riled up at the thought of you kneeling before him, his dick in your mouth. He had fixed his trousers and headed to the room at the sound of the bell, and a few minutes later, as the lock turned and the door opened, he had found you there, with your pretty doll mouth and your plush cheeks and your round, doe eyes, innocence personified.

“What are you thinking?” you ask him, your fingers tracing his elbow, calling for his attention.

He shakes his head. “I’m thinking of the first time we matched.”

You smile, then catch your lower lip between your teeth. “Interesting.”

He takes hold of your hand, so gentle, then caresses your knuckles, the touch as shy as a whisper. “What did you think of it?”

“The first time I saw you?” you ask, curious and surprised at his question.

He nods and you giggle, embarrassed. “I had caught you staring a few times before. I was intrigued.”

He gives a bright, although secret smile, and his fingers flirt with yours, dancing in between each other. The mere touch of his hand against your own is turning you on.

“I was wondering if I’d ever match with you. If we didn’t because you were into hardcore stuff, or maybe you wanted to dominate and I was not… I’m not submissive.” His eyes play hide and seek with yours, as if he were ashamed.

“Well… That gives…” You let him hang in that pause for a few seconds, then give him the word, “It’s a new perspective.” You can feel him exhale in relief at that. “I wanted to see what you were into too. Too bad we were too shy to approach each other.”

“But apparently we were meant to meet.”

“Just a matter of time…” you tease him.

That night, when you’d first met, you’d clicked immediately. In less than fifteen minutes, you were kissing, and within that first half hour, you’d never been happier to be naked with a man.

He was attentive, touching and kissing places that almost no one had ever paid attention to. He tickled the back of your knees, and pressed the plush petals of his lips to the arch of your feet. He nipped at the edge of your ribs, and licked at the small dip at your hip, where the sinew of your quad attaches to the bone of your hip crest. He tugged at your earlobe with his teeth and dipped the tip of his tongue at the twin hollows at the base of your spine.

When they talk about being worshipped like you were the only woman left on the face of earth, that’s probably what they mean.

It made you really generous — the kind of generous that makes you end up on your knees with a very messy mouth.

It was surprising, how you went on for one full hour dragging pleasure out of each other in an almost torturing way, so close to him entering you, and never doing so.

At the end of that, you’d suggested staying till morning, but he’d explained how he was a single dad and he really should be there in the morning.

“And that second time?” you tell him.

He blushes to the tip of his ears and it makes you giggle sweetly.

You’d entered the room already fully immersed in your role. You’d called him sir, made it clear you were his efficient, loyal assistant who’d been nursing a crush on him for so long. And he’d been playing along phenomenally, barking orders at you, and fucking your mouth, praising you so sweetly while mascara tears ran down your cheeks — just to draw a line when it came to him using you to cheat on his wife.

The fantasy had been brusquely interrupted when you realised he could actually be cheating — he was a father after all, from what you’d understood. He was quick to explain he’d been separated and that was the best decision he and his ex-wife had taken; and he’d shown his interest in your game by returning to it by saying how his sweet secretary had come into his life to make him realise he’d never truly had passion with his wife.

“You were surprising,” he admits. “Unexpectedly resourceful.”

Tonight the bell can’t ring soon enough. You just want to drag him to a dark corner and cover him in you. You want to rub yourself against him, all over him. You want to see him covered in your own wetness, and the lack of panties is only making you more sensitive.

“Would you do it again? A little roleplay?” you ask him.

He arches both eyebrows. “I thought I was clear about it. Adamantly, yes.”

“Hi there,” you hear, and turn around to be faced with two familiar faces. Right there, remnants of your third encounter with Seokjin.

Namjoon and his Mia, the latest hype of the club. They’d been performing together for some months now, and everyone said their sessions were something else entirely. You and Seokjin had started your third encounter by watching them in the voyeur area; there, they could perform within the three walls of a private room and a large two-way mirror, behind which people could watch those who consensually exhibited their encounters.

“Lovely to see you, Mia,” you hugged the woman and kissed her on both cheeks. It could have been awkward to interact with someone you’ve watched having sex, but with her — maybe also thanks to the environment of the club — it was liberating, almost exciting.

Meanwhile Namjoon and Seokjin shook hands, starting to chat with ease.

“So, how’s it going with your wet dream prince?” she asks, knowing perfectly well how long you’ve been pining for Seokjin. “Is he worth the hype?”

Your expression could be the definition of ‘the cat that got the cream’.

“Girl, tone it down a notch,” Mia says playfully, hitting your arm. “Is it getting official or is it a no work all play kind of game?”

Your grin tones down a little. “He’s a father, Mia. He has obligations.”

Her face looks entirely sympathetic. “I see. But there’s nothing wrong with asking, you know? If you’re interested…”

“I’ve got no interest in getting my heart broken,” you say, your tone final. “He needs to focus on his girls and only wants to relax and be selfish when he comes in here. I don’t want to be a burden.”

Mia shrugs and gives you a little curl of her lip. “I don’t think he sees you as a burden, but you should check that out. In person.”

“There’s other stuff I want to see in person, but it’s been…” You lower your voice to a whisper. “We’ve only kinda foreplayed so far.”

Mia tips her head to the side a little, as if confused. “Well. That's interesting. I mean, foreplay is the main act, if you ask me about it. I think—” She turns to the side and addresses Namjoon, “Darling, what would you think if we only did foreplay, no sex?”

You feel your entire head explode with shame, and you assume Seokjin is having a similar reaction.

“I would think you really like foreplay, or — given that this context calls for transgression — you've probably been raised to think that foreplay is taboo. Maybe it's something you've been deprived of, and here you want to claim it back.” Namjoon's hand lands on the small of Mia's back and from the way her eyes roll closed and her lips part softly, you can tell that his touch has a certain influence on her. “I know I don't usually deprive you of it, quite the contrary, but if it's affecting you so gravely tonight, then I might as well deliver.”

You look at Seokjin and he's giving you a certain look that you can't quite interpret.

“You know, if my partner only wanted foreplay, I would simply assume that they really like it,” adds Seokjin, his gaze rolling off of you as he continues. “And that maybe sex is a meaningful experience to them, and they really want to work out all the kinks in it.”

You stare at him, entirely too surprised at his comment, but he's looking at Namjoon this time.

The man is giving him a sombre, polished look and you understand his appeal — too bad you've been captured in Seokjin’s orbit a long time ago.

Within that expectant pause, the bell finally rings.

Namjoon can't put his hands on Mia fast enough. The woman is thrown over his shoulder as soon as the bell stops ringing, and he's taking large strides towards the private wing.

“Guess tonight is not for show,” you murmur, then turn to Seokjin.

You're afraid he's going to chastise you for your confession to Mia, but he doesn't. He's giving you a blank look, his mind impenetrable.

For a moment you think he's going to deny you, and frankly you wouldn't be too mad. He would be entirely too right, after you violated his trust and his privacy.

“Seokjin, I—”

“Behind closed doors, Fawn.” And he leaves you there.

If you had any chance of going through this unpunished, that chance withered right about now — or rather, a minute ago with the ring of the bell. That's the signal for his personality switch and he's just flipped from cute and quirky father to demanding and domineering sex god.

You watch him enter the private wing alone, and you can only hope for your room key to be matching his.

Five agonising minutes later, you realise it does, and it takes you only half a second to realise that you're tragically unprepared for what's waiting for you.

“On your knees,” he orders as soon as you walk through the door. “We're gonna bruise them tonight, Fawn.”

You obey, any objection dead on the verge of your lips.

“I thought I'd been clear about my intentions last time.”

He had been, fairly so. He'd addressed the foreplay situation and he'd planned on going all the way, which was still sort of new to him, especially considering that he'd been with only three women except his ex wife. And then again, most of that stuff wasn't too daring an experience. He felt a little under pressure with you, and he knew he couldn't quite yet control himself when it came to seeing you naked, much less touching you.

He had been taking his sweet time when his phone had started blaring. He'd taken five, maybe six seconds to understand what was happening, and then he'd dashed off you, picking up the phone.

You'd been too confused to understand, and even when he explained, it took you five lonely and cold minutes abandoned alone on the bed to realise he'd left.

Rose had apparently caught lice from a classmate, the nanny was on the verge of burning the house to the ground and Lily and Daisy were quite panicked by what was going on. Before you could get dressed, he was already on his way home doing damage control.

“I have responsibilities, Fawn. You know that. I wouldn't have answered that phone call, and I would have taken proper care of you if it had been an option.” He lowers to you on the ground, pleased with the way your eyes look like dark beads of obsidian in the softly lit room.

He was probably the one who asked for the fireplace to be lit and for a velvety alcove to be prepared right in front of it.

“And I meant it when I said I wanted something special with you.” He grips your chin, angling your face so that the light from the fireplace can caress the apple of your cheek in a way that makes it most biteable. “I meant it when I said I want to do this right. We can have that now.”

You lick your lips, trying to smoothen the ugly feeling of a dry mouth. It's hard to think and talk at the same time.

“I appreciate that you're there for your girls, I just wish you hadn't left me hanging.” You sit on your heels, then shift on all fours and crawl a flirty half step his way, your lashes like expensive and seductive fans of ostrich feathers luring him in, caressing the most tender spots of his body with your gaze.

You're pleased to notice he's entirely charmed by your allure.

“I won't deny you tonight, fawn,” he says. “I might as well give it to you right away.” His hand dives for your hair and grips it at the base, giving two subtle and suggestive tugs. You feel a low purr emerge from your throat and he smiles. “Welcome back, my naughty girl.”

You crawl one more step in the direction he drew you to, and he understands that you got his message. He rises to his feet, then dives his fingers once more in your hair and leads you to the plush lair sprawled in front of the fire.

“Such an obedient little pet,” he praises you. “I wonder what you got for me tonight.”

He's used to sexy little lingerie numbers — stuff with lots of lace and lots of ribbons. What he's not expecting is for you to drop your chest to the floor, arch your ass up in the air and expose your naked, blooming folds. “I thought I might surprise you for the night.”

Seokjin takes a few seconds to realise there's no g-string, no thong, no wicked contraption waiting to trick him.

Just naked truth, wet, warm skin, laying there for him to claim.

“Naughty indeed.” He kneels behind you, and he's tempted to rub himself against you and slip inside you after you've begged and prayed and cried for a while; however, he's under the impression that's exactly the game you want him to play.

So he simply sinks his teeth into your ass cheek, then licks the bite away.

“Stay right there.” And he disappears.

Footsteps echo around the room, then you hear the slide of a drawer.

He's probably choosing his instrument for the night, and you're aching to turn around and see what he's inspecting.

You'd also pay good money to know what he felt when he found you naked.

You'd mostly pay all the money to know what it takes to lose a man like him.

But that's another story, one that you don't intend to follow, especially since Seokjin is returning to you.

“We're gonna train you for me.” He kneels behind you and the feel of something extremely cold against your folds causes you to arch your spine up to the ceiling, your pelvis moving away from the sensation.

Seokjin, however, is merciless. With his forearm braced against the middle of your spine, he forces you to arch your spine back down, your entrance bared to him in a lewd, unmistakable way.

“I want to fuck you with my tongue. You look like dessert covered in icing. You're gleaming with arousal.” And as he talks, he keeps sliding the sphere up and down your folds, your skin so disturbingly sensitive.

At some point, your hips escape your control and you tilt your ass further up to the ceiling, chasing Seokjin's hand in hope he'll offer you some reprieve.

But he doesn't.

Instead he slides something warm and thin inside you, that wiggles and then unfortunately, sadly retreats.

You only have the time for a hiccup of disappointment before he returns to toy with your folds.

Seokjin watches you writhe as he sucks on the finger he just extracted from your cunt. It makes him feel powerful, but most importantly, it makes him feel alive. It makes him feel wanted.

It makes him feel like his own needs matter, that he comes first, which is not an ordinary feeling for a father of three.

He loves this about you: you put his needs first and you don't make him feel bad about it — that is, he doesn't feel bad about coming first with you. Maybe that's also the reason why he's reluctant about introducing you to his family life. He doesn't need a nanny, or a cook or a housekeeper. He just wants someone he can enjoy those crumbles of spare time he has for himself.

He freezes.

Someone to date.

Realisation is like a mirror shattering to the floor, each shard reflecting one different aspect of him. Father, ex-husband, manager, employer and employee, overachiever, knight-in-shining-armour, but also, somewhere, needy, dark overlord.

He is all of that. And he is curious about seeing whichever many ways you can stand by his side in every role.

“Seokjin,” you whisper, barely a moan. You try to lift your hand from where it fell before, abandoned on the lush carpet below you, but it lands again, and grips whatever it can as he slips one sphere inside.

“There, Fawn. What is it?” He chuckles and the sound that follows — the silvery tinkling of a belt — is like mockery to your ears.

“Bet this isn’t enough, huh?” He stares at you, at your position on the floor, cheek pressed to the carpet, dress pulled up, and shakes his head. He’d never have thought he could enjoy this, and yet… He loves this. He’s hard from this.

He kneels down, rotulae hitting the floor with a mildly disturbing thud. He rolls up the hem of his button down, dick so hard it’s reaching his navel. He grips your hip and pulls you closer, the heat of your ass slamming against his hips.

You gasp. It’s finally happening, you tell yourself.

“Why so quiet, darling?” he says, bending over, speaking against the shell of your ear. “I thought you’d at least thank me, you know?”

Rubbing your ass against him gives you a rough estimation of how he’d fit against you, inside you.

He teases his tip against your entrance, slow and wet. The sound of it is slick and lewd, and he can swear it’s the best he’s ever had.

“Please,” you manage to squeak out, so pathetic, and even needier than that.

He makes a weird sound in his throat, like a muffled groan, and it makes you even wetter. As your muscles clench, you feel the sphere inside you readjust, massaging a different corner of your inner walls, and it steals a hum of pleasure out of you, a guttural sound, something as animalistic as your current position.

“Just the tip,” you beg, your voice weak, frayed at the edges.

You expect him to mock you and deprive you, but the heat of him corrects its trajectory and it’s right up against your centre.

“How can I not…” he murmurs. “You’re here. Ass up like a bitch in heat.”

Heat bubbles to your cheeks and your back arches even further, offering yourself up. You’re even more embarrassed, but there’s no need to run from him.

Not after you’ve seen his eyes flicker, wicked, as he cleaned your orgasm from his chin with the back of his hand; not after he’s stuck his fingers in your mouth, his cum still dripping from them, in an attempt to quiet you down from screaming his name through your orgasm.

“I can’t wait to see how dirtier you can get,” he tells you, then grabs your earlobe with his teeth, tugging a little.

Saying you grind yourself against him is the largest understatement you could ever concoct. You hump in the most unmistakable way you can. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me. How much longer do you want me to—?”

And he dips in. Just dips, really. Only the tip. “God. Tight,” he gasps.

You try to push yourself up against him, make him sink deeper, faster. You want to ride him. You want to be the one doing the fucking.

He can lay back and enjoy, for all that matters — you’re sure you can bounce on his dick until your thighs cramp and you collapse on his chest. And at that point, if he hasn’t come yet, you’re pretty sure you can roll over and he can take over.

“Too greedy, my pretty fawn.”

And he moves back. Away.

“You’re gonna make me fold, Fawn,” he whispers. “Too soon.”

And he stands. And there’s that silvery tickling again.

“No,” you cry out. You turn and rise, just in time to catch him tucking his shirt in.

Your ass plops down to rest on your heels and you feel tears of frustration bubble up against your lower lashes. “No, please.”

“Too soon, sweet cheeks. Now get back in position.”

You frown. “But—”

“Fawn, darling.” He gives you a patient look, so sweet, so understanding.

God, he must be such a good dad, you think for half a second. “But Jin—”

“You know I’m gonna take care of you. Now, if you do as I tell you, we can get this—”

Something vicious snarls inside you. You’re not sure where it comes from, but you bark out, “No.”

Seokjin arches one beautiful eyebrow. “Come again, darling?”

“I said no.”

“Bend over, Fawn.”

You can barely keep a straight face as you finally say, “Make me.”

Seokjin shakes his head. He knows he’s gonna love this. “That's it.” On the inside he's glowing with joy, but he cannot show that, he must punish you.

Except he knows you love this too.

He grabs your hair and moves you so that he can make sure you're not going to hurt yourself if you fall: he will be cuffing your hands behind your back, which means you wouldn’t be able to stop your fall if you were to lose your balance, and he needs to be careful.

You're still kneeling on the ground when he lowers himself and uses his own torso to push your own to the plush carpet in front of the fireplace.

“And now stay. You're playing with fire, Fawn.”

You feel him step back and remove himself, and you're tempted to disregard his petty request and follow him to the drawer.

Except you don't, because you know you're already getting what you wanted. And you can still rouse him later if he's not sufficiently harsh.

“God to know you can still follow a basic, easy order, darling.” The first cuff snaps around your left wrist, and he slips two fingers between your flesh and the metal to make sure it isn't too tight on you. He repeats the same procedure with the other wrist, and the gentle way he checks makes you want to submit immediately.

He suspends the scene just enough to kiss your palm before caressing the curve of your bottom. “If you want to safeword, remember it's your right, and you can do so at any moment,” he reminds you, practical and kind.

“I will if I need to,” you say, reassuring him, but also trying to move on to the actual scene.

“Good. Cause I want you to remember about tonight every time you walk or sit in the next three days.”

Your stomach knots, awaiting, and you wiggle your ass in the air, your torso still disappointingly clothed. “All I hear is empty threats.”

That's when the first slap hits.

It's Seokjin's hand against your ass, but it's harsh and angry, and you know you're going to get exactly what you wanted.

The impact makes your insides clench, and the sphere shifts against your inner walls.

You hum in pleasure, your fingers twitching as you try to make the sensation bearable.

It's truly torture. You're wet, and this weight inside you keeps massaging you, taunting you suggestively.

“This what you want?” Seokjin asks you, and you nod, knowing that you can tell him, you can trust him. That he will give you more of it because this is all about trusting each other, and giving each other pleasure, and just—

“Fawn. I swear I'm gonna fuck you tonight. But for the love of fuck I need to take the edge off myself or I'm gonna be pathetic.”

You're currently spooning on all fours, you propped on your knees, breastbone and cheek, while he’s caging you in from above, his thighs bracketing yours, one of his arms pinned just beside your shoulder, the other hand free to roam.

And right now it lands right on your pubic bone, the ball of his palm resting right against your pelvis. The moment he starts drawing slow circles on your clit, finding just the right spot, your body gives in, and some grinding resumes.

“You're so fucking hard,” you tell him, and you know just how banal your statement is, but historically, you're not usually smart when he's coercing orgasms out of you, especially with his fingers.

You grow dumb.

Your brain can only focus on sensation.

And there's the sphere situation happening too, just to complicate this further.

“I told you I need to take the edge off.”

“You can come on me, you know?”

He chuckles. “Oh darling, that one you'd made clear already.” He registers your sharp inhale and moves more delicately. “Do you need me to slow down?”

It makes you snort a little petty laugh. “No, it's just—” You release an exhale and move against him more openly, unbridled and luxuriant. “It's strange with the sphere.”

“I just want you to be all relaxed and warmed up when I slip inside you,” he tells you.

“And I think I'll have to get you some kegel balls. So you can train during the week, when we don't meet.” He kisses your spine and your eyes roll closed.

All you need is the sensations he's giving you, your body awakening piece by piece. It's like every molecule of you is finding new meaning, new depth, new sensitivity.

You've never been so aware of each muscle pulling taut.

“Seokjin,” you whisper, and he hums, he realises you called him and he replies simply, but neither of you can really string words together at this point.

“Jin… If you—” You're trying to connect word after word, looking for meaning, but your tongue is uncooperative, and you can't quite make sounds into words.

You want him to keep going. You really do.

But you also need to take one or fifteen breaths because this is getting too good — maybe too important too. Because you want him now, but it also dawns on you, quite rudely, that you want him all the time. That you've been thinking about him too much lately, even when it's a silly sweet nothing like ordering pizza or washing the sheets.

What kind of pizza does he like most?

Would he like the smell of my sheets? Would he find them too light? Too warm? Not soft enough?

Does he shower warm or cold?

He moans your name and you shake your thoughts awake — as awake and aware as you can be underneath him.

“Are you close?” he asks, and you know you are, but you can't quantify how long it's going to take you. You were closer for sure before your thoughts had wandered towards the day-to-day life of him.

It's so strange that you would need to focus to stay tethered to your own pleasure; however, quite disappointingly, that's the way it seems.

“I don't know,” you tell him, not bothering to hide your perplexity.

“Okay,” he says calmly, then he sucks at the curve of your neck, where it meets your shoulder. “I'll be good,” he says, like a promise.

You're not used to this amount of patience from him, to this pliability.

He lifts off of you, his thigh still aligned with yours as his torso separates from your back, then suddenly a liquid coldness spreads over your ass cheeks, and you feel him shudder.

You turn, curiosity picked by that unexpected feeling, and you spot a bottle of lubricant in your peripherals. Makes sense.

His hands immediately land on your glutes, spreading the liquid, and he hisses as his dick meets the cold.

Soon, however, the lube is warmed by the heat of your own skin and he finds himself grinding against you, needy and rough. He grabs at your hips guiding you as you move up against him.

“Touch yourself, Fawn,” he orders, and you don't make him tell you twice.

The idea of him using your body, and finding pleasure in it, and marking it as his own arouses you desperately.

You want to be his, and you want to pleasure him. You want to be the thought he conjures about next time he's had a rough day and simply wants to jerk off. You want to be the one he dreams about while he's lost in his huge bed, humping a pillow in his sleep. You want to be the reason he's late in the morning because he caught a thought of you in the shower and he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

Ultimately, you want to be the reason why this accomplished, bright man gets a little messy once in a while.

You want to be the motive behind his little crimes. You want to be his gateway to temporary thoughtlessness. You want him to be as human, as fallible, as exhausted, as despicable as he needs to be and never allows himself to be.

You wish to liberate him.

“I'm gonna—” The words die on his lips as he finally spills against you, your orgasm once more incumbent but also far removed, as if that very close destination could only be reached by an impractically long journey.

You hear him come, disappointed by the lack of closeness between the two of you, by the fact that this position doesn't allow you to kiss his mouth, or quieten him down, or watch him frantically reach for your breast with his lips so he can muffle his cries against your chest.

“I thought I had more in me,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

You assume he's referring to this night. Maybe he's done. Maybe he's not thinking about you at all.

Maybe he just wants to be serviced, and he's realised just now, and you're on your way to be dismissed.

“It's okay,” you tell him, but you're pretty sure your disappointment bled through the words. Your logical brain is telling you that he’s just referring to coming this fast and not dealing with you first, but you’ve discovered you’re not strong on logic when it comes to him.

Too bad you can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s embarrassed, and breathless, and truly madly deeply blaming himself for putting you through such a sorry mess.

Such a disappointment.

He wants to make it up to you. And he starts doing so with slow, gentle kisses on your nape, a gentle caress of his fingertips moving your hair to the side.

Dammit, he loves your hair. So soft, and always smelling like vanilla.

It makes him want to keep you on his lap all the time, so he can dive his nose in it when he’s feeling stressed, inhale you and get high from it.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says simply, studying the viola-like shape of your torso, still wrapped in the tight fabric of your dress. His hands glide reverently from the edges of your shoulders to the narrowing of your waist, admiring your back, then slide to your navel, on your front, climbing back up so he can cup the roundness of your breasts. “The geometry of you… If you could see yourself…”

He can’t ever bring himself to finish one damn thought. The sight of you gives him no reprieve: he’s entirely overstimulated by everything you offer to him, defeated, even, by it.

His fingers tease your nipples through your dress and your insides clench from it, the kegel ball rolling inside you and making you purr from him. He smiles and brings himself back on track.

No distractions this time, he scolds himself, and his body bows off of you. He backs up slowly, unrushed pecks of his lips climbing down the ladder of your vertebrae, and in the meanwhile he undoes the handcuffs.

You would maybe complain if it weren’t for the fact that you trust him with your own pleasure, blindly.

When the salt of his spilled orgasm meets his parted lips, he lets his tongue slip out, giving a full sweep of a lick, lush, wet and hot.

You shudder. “What you up to?” you ask, surprised, confused, almost coherent.

“Just a casual snack,” he murmurs against your wet skin. “It’s not like I’m done with you here.”

You chuckle, nervous, but also thankful. Your heartbreak has been postponed. You push your body back, trying to move closer to him in whatever intuitive way you can. You turn your face on the other side as you know that by now there must be an imprint of the carpet against your cheek.

The blaze coming from the fireplace in the distance warms your face, and once your eyes roll closed, you realise just how pleasant it is to vaguely perceive the orange of the fire from the back of your eyelids. The flames whisper like lovers, like a hushed breathing sound, like exhales and inhales sharply syncopating each other. Then there’s the cracking of the logs, which perfectly echoes and alternates with the sound of Seokjin’s wet kisses, the clicking of his tongue, and the sucking.

The sensations come in so sharply in the empty space you’ve carved for yourself. It’s like you’ve muted the rest of the world except Seokjin and that eyeless voyeur that is the fire.

When Seokjin speaks again, it surprises you and causes a somersault to your stomach, for his voice his so deep and quiet and intimate. It’s the sexiest you’ve ever heard from him.

“Spread your pretty thighs for me, darling.”

You can tell you just gushed out more wetness at your core. That’s what he can get from you, just by using his voice alone.

As soon as you follow his order, he lays with his back on the floor, the width of his shoulders finding its slot in between your parted knees. His hands find your butt and he uses it to readjust your stance.

“Won't you give me just a taste, darling, please?” he says, and you adore just how imploring he is, but at the same time smooth and gallant too.

You love it when he asks you, all chivalrous, about treating you like his own personal slut.

He kisses the inside of your thigh and you find your thighs spreading even further, as you lower your hips a tiny inch closer to the floor — or rather, closer to his awaiting mouth.

“I swear I'm gonna beg if I have to, Fawn. Fucking please.”

He twists his head to the other side and bites the soft flesh on the inside of your leg. His teeth sink gently, sending sparks of pleasure all over your body. “Won't you put me out of my misery, darling?”

“I love it when you beg,” you admit, propping your front up on your elbows first, then on your palms. “It's different from your usual demanding self.”

Your eyes meet his and you notice a spark of uncertainty there. “Do you want me to be harsher? To command you?”

You smile meekly, fondly. “I like you best precisely the way you are.”

You can't see it in the penumbra, but heat has crept to his cheeks, and it's mostly your compliments' fault.

He grabs your waist, appreciating how easily his thumb and forefinger rest at its narrowest point, then invites you to lower your pelvis some more.

At this point, you find yourself more comfortable in a kneeling position, your chest lifted, your thighs in a slightly narrower stance as you lower your ass to his chest, your weight still partially held by your hands, propped on the floor near your knees.

He doesn't speak before he acts. He simply grabs your ass again and zeroes in with his lips on your clitoris.

Bliss is instantaneous.

He starts torturing you immediately with long sucking motions, driving you insane, and when you try to remove yourself, he doesn't allow you to.

Your brain immediately recalls your safeword, but you can't find the final straw that urges you to use it.

You're feeling pleasure— no, actually you are pleasure.

It blooms from you immediately, six or seven slow, stubborn licks after. You brace yourself for the tide rising, but you can't resist it anyway, and soon you find yourself fucking his face, so sexy as it appears in between your naked parted thighs, your dress still on, hitched up around your waist.

His eyes are closed, as if he were feeling it too. He’s the picture of passion, entirely dedicated, single-minded about your ecstasy.

As you’re coming down, you reach for his hair with your left hand, your fingers digging through his luscious locks, tugging just the way he likes, with intention, but also not too roughly. You expect him to back off, but he opens his eyes, stares at your open mouth, at your feverish gaze— and keeps going.

You swear as he starts veering into overstimulation, his nails digging in your ass.

Pleasure becomes pain, which feeds pleasure even further.

Fire blooms inside you, its many tongues setting each of your limbs ablaze.

The second orgasm comes with a scream — your own — and some moaning from Seokjin which only confirms a certain sense of accomplishment.

Meanwhile the kegel ball has warmed to your inner heat, your muscles constricting around it in a vicious grip, giving you that fullness that is enough to enhance your pleasure without truly fulfilling it.

“God, more, please…”

Seokjin chuckles, bathing your inner thighs in soft kisses and sweet little bites. “I love it when you call me god.”

You sit yourself back on his face and giggle. “Oh, shut up.”

His arms tighten like a vice around your legs, his hands pushing your dress further up, exposing the hill of your pelvis, just above the parting of your labia.

He lands some kisses there, sucking, enjoying the soft, plump skin, and the plumpness he leaves in his wake.

Heat rushes wild under the flesh he kisses, sensitivity heightened, capillaries blooming with fullness.

“Lower yourself to the floor, pretty thing,” he hums, and he’s so cruelly persuasive that you obey, your shoulders pressed to the back of your hands, elbows tucked in tight by the sides of your waist. “As low as you can, Fawn,” he recommends.

Once you do, he gives a powerful swing with his shoulders, causing you to swap positions so that your back ends up on the floor and he is finally on top of you.

“Back the way it's supposed to be,” he says, at once free to exercise all the control he needs. “I'm not even sure I need you naked,” he says, kissing your navel, the crests of your hips, the junction between your thighs and your hips.

He lifts the hem of your dress, the stretchy knit giving him room to stick his head under the fabric.

He attaches himself to your nipple as soon as he finds it, his hand climbing up to your chest and starting to toy with your other breast.

“You could also undress me, you know,” you tease him, but apparently he is really busy and your spine is arching off the floor, and you can feel the wetness of his mouth against the precious lace of your bra.

“Shut up,” he says, his voice lost in bliss, and he's moving the cup of your bra just below your breast, baring your nipple. “I'll be busy for the next three working days. Do not call me, email me, or text me. I'm worshipping nipples.”

You laugh and you suddenly clench at the way the laughing twists the sensation of his sucking your breast, making it a fluttery and yet intense feeling.

He gets his head out of your dress and kisses your neck instead. “I really like this dress,” he tells you. “I also really like the lack of panties, though that must have been slightly uncomfortable.”

“It felt a little bit weird, yes. I was afraid I was going to flash someone.”

He chuckles, then freezes. “You might have. Are you sure you haven't?”

Feeling him all serious, you become serious too. “I don't know?” You start worrying a little. Would that be a violation to the rules of the club?

“You're telling me someone else might have seen this?” He cups your vulva with his hand, and the pressure is mind-numbing. It takes you maybe two or three seconds to respond, your thoughts like arrows that deviate their trajectory towards your crotch.

“Seokjin, I—”

He sticks two fingers inside you and tightens his grip on you. “Fawn. This. This belongs to me. Okay?”

You shiver at how stern he sounds. “Yes.”

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do.”

Seokjin nods to himself. “Good. Now get out of this damn dress.”

“You, get out of your clothes too,” you order, trying to be just as stern, but he laughs at you, rubbing your G-spot inside you.

“I think your silly, sex-addled brain got confused.” He grips your face with his free hand, squishing your cheeks together. “I tell you what to do, Fawn. And you do it.”

You're taken aback by just how patronising his words are. How silly and insignificant they make you feel. How even wetter you get.

You arch off the carpet and slip your dress off, tugging and pulling, until your body is finally free.

Seokjin studies the way the fire dances on your skin, the way your breasts rise and fall with your ragged breathing.

“Good girl, Fawn.” He leans over and kisses your breast, then gives a fat lick to the sensitive skin before blowing over it in a way that makes you shiver. “So fucking sensitive.”

He's beginning to undo his shirt, towering over you as he sits up on his knees and lets his fingers make a quick work of the buttons, his teal satin shirt coming undone quickly.

He manages to shrug it off easily, the expanse of his chest finally emerging in front of you. He notices how enchanted you are by it, how mesmerised.

The contrast between the fairness of his skin and the raspberry pink of his nipples is stark and seductive. You now understand colour theory and why animals always eat at the brightest-coloured fruit.

You sit up, leaning on your hands, your mouth searching for his chest, but with a finger pressed to your sternum he pushes you back down.

“Sit still for a second, for fuck’s sake,” he scolds you, then tries to get rid of his trousers, which proves to be truly challenging in a kneeling position.

He tuts, frustrated, then convinces himself to stand back up, finally pushing his trousers and briefs down, shimmying out of them too in an attempt to get naked faster.

You’re already on your knees in front of him, waiting, lips parted, hoping he’s going to use your mouth for his pleasure, and you try to invite him to, kissing his thigh, caressing it with your teeth, then giving it a kittenish lick.

He grabs you by the cheeks, then forces you to look up at him. “I thought you were a smart, obedient girl, Fawn. Are you not?”

You’re still kneeling in front of him, mouth parted, eyes wide aimed at his face. You try to appear as dollish and harmless as possible.

“I wouldn’t like to think wanting to get fucked turned you into a silly girl, mh?”

He’s so hard, right in front of you, and the sphere inside you is not enough, not anymore. You need him moving in and out of you. You need fullness, you need to be more than what you can take.

You need him rough, needy, harsh, unforgiving, relentless and fastidiously specific about how he wants to fuck you.

You can almost put your mouth on him. Almost.

You frown. “Please,” you whine, wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue.

He smiles, then snorts. “So desperate…”

Your inner muscles flutter at his cocky tone.

He kneels back, at your same height. “Spread your legs, love,” he tells you, and you keen at the pet name, which makes him caress your cheek fondly. “Come on, let me fuck you, Fawn.”

You part your knees further and his hand slips from your cheeks to your chin, then to your neck, gripping it suggestively, then caresses your breast and follows the axis of your midriff, twirls around your navel and settles at your pubis.

You wet your lips again, your breath caught in your throat, your gaze tantalised by the movement of his hands.

He spreads your labia, covering his fingers in your wetness, then he dives for your entrance, catching the sphere inside and helping it out.

“You should be warm and stretched now, right?” he asks you, then brings the toy to his mouth.

You stare at him, daring him to do exactly what he does next. He opens his mouth and takes a lick at the ball, tasting you.

“This wet cause I made you come?” he asks, and you nod, stunned. He brings the sphere to your nipple and rubs it against your breast gently, drawing a small circle on it. “Sweet,” he coos, then sucks your freshly moistened nipple in his mouth.

You moan like you never have, your hips starting to move in an attempt to grind against something.

You’re almost on the edge by the time he releases your skin from his lips. “Seokjin,” you beg, grabbing his hair and combing it back. “Please, Seokjin, I need it. I need it.”

He sits on his heels, his free hand landing on the small of your back and pulling you closer. “Come close, Fawn. I want to look into your eyes as you take it.”

Your frown can’t even begin to express how desperate you feel. You want him, now, and you’re about to have him. But a part of you is suddenly remembering that you’ll have to let go of him again at the end of the night.

You shake off the bad thoughts and take him in your hand, but he swats it away.

“When I say so,” he scolds you, so you place your hands on his shoulders for leverage and when you’re ready to sit on his lap, he grips himself steady and aims his tip at your entrance.

“Can’t wait to hear you moan as I fill you up, love.”

You bite your lip and the head of his dick slips in effortlessly, smooth and hot.

A sigh of relief leaves your throat and he smiles. “Goddamn, so warm,” he whispers, then gives you a few more inches — just three or four. Not yet all of them.

“How does it feel, my Fawn?” he speaks softly. “Still hungry for more?”

You nod, feeling just how full, how magnificent it feels to have more, and to know there’s more to take.

“You really needed my dick, mh?” He gives you one more inch and you start wincing, just a little. It’s thick and it’s warm, and it feels so right to squeeze it with your muscles, your orgasm starting to build.

Seokjin looses control for a moment, and that’s all it takes for him to conclude his stroke, sinking all the way to the hilt.

A gasp escapes you and he seems surprised too.

He blinks a few times, then his gaze seems to focus on you. “Hello,” he says, with a large smile. “Fawn, I guess I needed inside you just as bad as you did.”

You chuckle and he grips the back of your neck and dives to kiss you.

The tang of your taste is strong on his tongue, but you don’t dislike it. The kiss is soft, gentle, unrushed and tender.

“Let me know when I can move,” he tells you.

You nod.

“Touch yourself,” he orders you, then starts stroking for real.

He’s deep and slow, like he’s keeping himself in check, aiming at you coming undone.

Which you do, in record time, moaning like you’ve never had good sex in your entire life, and at this point you’ve come to suspect so.

You’ve given yourself good sex. You’ve splurged on a good realistic dildo, and you’ve learnt to fuck yourself right with it, but when Seokjin moves inside you, you doubt you truly ever reached ecstasy in your decades of existence.

When you do come, it’s his name you scream, shameless, loud, and you don’t care since the entire building is made of people who are in several different states of erotic debauchery.

Seokjin is proud, fulfilled, your pleasure finally achieved.

He can now focus on his now.

He recovers the kegel ball he slipped out of you, still hooked on his finger by the strap, and brings it in front of you. “I might get rough.” He seems unsure, and cheeky too, as he adds, ”How do you feel about a muffler?”

Your eyes widen. You think about it for a millisecond, then it seems obvious. “Go ahead,” you tell him, then open your mouth.

“God, I love you,” he says.

And you both stop.

“Shit, I mean—” Seokjin is panicking.

“I know,” you say calmly, trying to reassure him.

He seems like he didn’t mean it. Not like that, at least. “I love this. Between us,” he adds

And you can agree about that. “I do, too.”

He seems conflicted, unresolved. “Fill my mouth then fill me up, Seokjin. It’s not complicated.”

It really is, because you want all the feelings that come with this, and that are plenty more complicated than two hours of giving and taking everything you need for yourselves. It’s more than getting rid of tension and snatching all the pleasure you can.

He’s still hesitating, so you nudge the sphere with your nose and chin until you manage to catch it with your mouth.

Both his hands are free now and he decides to grab your ass immediately, shoving your hips back down on him. “Damn right,” he grunts.

He’ll give you what you want, he’s decided. Everything you want. He’ll keep to himself the complicated bits.

You hum a short, clipped sound as he lifts you just a little and pulls you down again. Again, even faster than before.

You start getting his pattern, cooperating as he gets more frantic, more forceful.

Saliva is starting to gather in your mouth, the ball making it too difficult to swallow. You’re getting messy, and you decide to get messier still, to fuck the worries out of his brain, out of your own too.

You’re glad he’s flexible, because you manage to make him shift from a lotus position to a rowdy cowgirl. There you go faster still, and he’s gasping your name, staring at your breasts, gripping them, slapping them too as they dangle over his face.

You clench on him as he does, and he whines even louder.

It makes you territorial, and maybe sadistic, because next thing you know, you’re removing the toy from your mouth and placing it on the floor — it is no longer welcome in your and Seokjin’s little game.

Now it’s only the two of you, and may the strongest opponent win.

You trace his pout with your fingers, and he parts his lips easily. Your middle and ring finger slip inside, and he lets you open his mouth wider.

You lean over him, lower yourself to him, closer, your bellies sticking together, your hips still pistoning on him.

Your tongue and cheeks are still coated in the thick wetness and saliva from the improvised gag-ball, so you just leave your lips agape and the thick liquid plops out, from your tongue on his.

His eyes go wide and he grows more frantic still, going desperate while he licks his lips clean. “God, Fawn. Please,”

“Oh, did the tables turn…”

He smiles a desperate smile, begging you with his eyes. You allow him the final squeeze of your kegels, and he finally, finally comes.

His arms wrap around you like vines, like he’s ivy, and he depends on you, needs you, wants to cling to your forever.

He starts pushing from below and it’s a punishment divine and sinful at the same time.

It shouldn’t feel this good, and yet it does, so you take it as best as you can.

It feels like stealing, and you’re not sure you’re okay when he slips out. “A quick break, let me recover,” he begs. “Not done though.”

Seokjin is great at recovering, this one you’ve learnt. Maybe he doesn’t jerk off by himself. Maybe he keeps himself at bait so he can go all out when he’s with you.

Nevertheless, he takes ten or so minutes to himself, where he just lays with you on top of him, his dick inside you, softening, while he strokes your body.

“I don’t know what I meant with what I said earlier,” he admits.

“We don’t need to talk about this right now,” you tell him, and maybe you’re just trying to save your poor little heart. Sure, saying you love him would be an exaggeration, but you definitely like this man, and you like his heart, his personality, and most importantly, the way he treats you and understands your needs.

“I feel like we should.” He’s caressing your spine. “I—”

“Why did your ex-wife let go of you? How did she give up on sex this good? How did she get this and not…? Stay?” You ask. And you need the answer. Maybe that will make you swallow the lump in your throat. He wants to discuss difficult topics? Then let’s do that.

“I—” He’s clearly caught by surprise. “I was not like this. With her. With other women.” His hand stops, resting on the curve of your ass. “We were just… No longer in love with each other. We still love each other, but we don’t long for each other anymore. We love each other for the three beautiful lives we created together, for our family, for the memories, but we don’t… We want to build different paths. And that’s fair.”

You nod, then settle back on his chest, drawing patterns on it with your fingers. He’s starting to stir inside you, you can tell. Feeling him awaken like this is fulfilling, arousing too. “And you let go?”

“We did.” He squeezes your butt fondly. “We— Me and my ex didn’t have sex often. I needed it, I guess, but I never asked. She didn’t seem to want it. Passion was never part of the equation.”

“But three kids? I—”

“We wanted a big family. She did, especially. But it’s not like we tried a lot. We were just lucky. And I don’t regret that, not even a second. After Daisy we stopped altogether. We were basically celibate for more than a year.”

You nod, then look at him. “So this thing with me is like—?”

He chuckles, his hips shifting in a way that tells you he’s ready again, or soon will be. “This is the most selfish and passionate I’ve been in the last five years. I guess that’s why I said what I said earlier.” He’s blushing, eyes averted. “But that doesn’t mean I value you only for selfish reasons.” He forces himself to look at you again. “I actually like you a lot. But I don’t know what to do because stuff gets complicated when you have kids, especially young kids like mine.”

You nod some more. “You like me?!” You say after three seconds, tires screeching in your brain as you process his words.

He smiles, his laugh rippling from his stomach to yours. “Yeah, that one sure. Pretty sure about it, yeah.”

“And—”

“And I waited this long to tell you because I wanted to be sure, but also because I wanted to be sure it meant something to you too. I wanted to feel safe with you.” He smooths your hair by your temple, removing a strand that was obstructing your eye. “I wanted to have sex when I was sure you meant something for me. I think sex is something meaningful. Important. I wanted to get there step by step.”

You rise from his chest, stare at him, confused, like your world has been just flipped inside out. “I thought you didn’t—”

“I did.” He chuckles, just a little, then places a hand on your waist and flips the two of you upside down.

He’s on top of you, and he’s got a point to prove. “Last time I really did. I was this close,” he says, and he strokes out, then in, slowly.

You moan his name, and he dives to your lips. “Such a pretty way to moan for me, Fawn. Telling everyone who’s fucking this sweet, warm, cosy pussy.” He stops once he bottoms out and speaks through gritted teeth: “As I was saying before you interrupted me, I really wanted to, last time. I was sure I was going to get your number and invite you for dinner afterwards. But the babysitter and fucking lice and—”

You laugh. He’s fucking you so good and yet you end up talking about mundane stuff and he’d so handsome above you but you really want him to take you from behind — your mind is frazzled.

“I wanted to fuck you and keep you till morning, and then get you breakfast, and ask you for a date.”

Your heartbeat stumbles. “A date?”

He stops. “God. Don’t tell me you—” He slips out. “You don’t… Uhm. It’s— You don’t see me like that, right?”

He seems defeated, embarrassed too, maybe, but mostly lost.

“Oh, not that!” You rush to clarify, “I mean, I do! I do see you like that, I mean!” You grab him by the shoulders, then cup the sides of his neck and kiss him, because you’re making a mess and you know that you’re going to kiss him right and show him just how much this means to you.

“I love that you waited to have sex with me.” You caress his face. “It meant a lot, because I don’t think I was ready to have sex straight away.”

“I wanted to since I first saw you,” he says, and you kiss him some more, to show him you like what he’s telling you, that you want him to keep going. “But I needed time to process just what I wanted, and how.”

“I noticed you staring.”

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. I wanted to be matched with you so bad, but I was scared we wouldn’t combine. Maybe we were incompatible.”

You smile. “I’m so glad this is happening.”

He slips an arm underneath your back and helps you up, until you’re both sitting up again, your chin resting on his shoulder, and you’re about to abandon yourself in his arms when you notice something in a corner of the room.

“Hold up,” you tell him.

He pulls back, looking you in the face. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, then kiss him softly, gingerly. “Just wait.”

You rise and let him slip out of you, his dick deliciously covered in your and his cum.

He watches you rise and follows you with his gaze, studying the way the fire dances on the planes of your skin. His mouth waters. “Fawn, love, no need to—”

“Yes!” you exclaim, then he notices you’re moving a full-length mirror closer to your alcove by the fireplace. It’s a wheeled mirror, which can be rolled around to better be included in the scene. You place it in front of Seokjin, who studies you standing beside it, then looks at his reflection. “I wanted this so bad,” you tell him, “but I wanted to look you in the eye and I don’t like the fact that you gotta face away for it.”

You sit in front of him, then turn your back to him and head back to your position on all fours, just like you started.

Seokjin shakes his head. “I’ve never understood doggy before hitting it with you,” he says, his hands skating down your sides.

He slips in and you both hiss, but pleasure rises faster than pain. The first stroke is heaven already. “I’m gonna be fucking you like this for weeks to come.”

“I’m gonna hold you accountable for that,” you tease.

He nods, then wraps an arm around you, his hand sprawled against your sternum, and he pulls you up, with your back against his chest.

He can feel your crazed heartbeat, and you can feel his against your spine.

“I’m gonna get rough, Fawn.” He bites your neck, not aggressively, but with passion. “Fuck, you make me wild.” He jabs into you. “With your pretty eyes.” Once more. “And your pretty, dirty mouth.” He slides out, then stuffs himself back in and you gasp. “And the way you get dumb and filthy when you need to come.” His hand climbs to your throat, without gripping, just a gentle warm caress, as if to protect it, and help you hold your head upright. “The way you mix innocence and debauchery.” It’s like he’s trying to burrow himself inside you, swallowing your frame into his. “You’re a delight of a little bitch.”

You’re touching yourself now, and he stares at it in the mirror, at the frantic circles of your fingers on your clitoris, at the way your tits wiggle at his thrusts.

Your lips are parted wide, and you’re starting to fall, he can tell, your eyes closing slowly. You’re fluttering for him, inside, and he’s gritting his teeth, plunging inside you more furiously. “Come on, come for me, my little bitch. Show me how much you love this dick.”

And so you do.

He thanks you softly and compliments you as you start coming apart for him, his own pleasure coming together and unraveling at last as you both spiral into each other.

It’s apotheosis, the way you melt into each other, your essence becoming one. It’s completion. It’s finality. It’s your destination.

You’re both left panting, exhausted, and this time you’re not sure Seokjin will recover as easily as he had before.

“Holy smokes,” you exhale, and he meets your eyes in the mirror. His cheeks are adorably flushed, and his eyes are dark and drowsy. He’s still panting. “Very worth it. Every second.”

“Kudos for the mirror. Excellent idea.”

“We need to add that to the list.”

“Definitely.”

He kisses a spot near the hollow of your throat, nibbling the skin there just right.

He stays buried inside you still, and has pretty much no intention of getting out.

“Are you alright?” he asks you, his fingers skimming your belly, caressing you, but also trying to keep you warm. He wants to grab a robe for you, but he doesn't want to be detached from you yet.

“I'm just fine,” you reassure him, rubbing his thigh to comfort him.

“Was it too rough?” he asks and you shake your head immediately.

“Are you kidding? It was just perfect!” you tell him, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

He stays quiet for a while then says, “Are we okay with… With what I said earlier? About… About feelings?”

You blink repeatedly. “I think…” You pause. “I think it's fair, what you feel. And—” You shake your head and giggle. “I hope you did mean to ask me on a date.”

He chuckles, then wraps his arms more tightly around you. “Breakfast. The girls are with their mom tonight, we could sleep here—” He kisses a sweet spot at your nape— “Or not sleep at all,” he suggests, “and wake up in the morning and go for breakfast.” He contemplates the option, studying your face in the mirror. “It's up to you, my beautiful Fawn.”

You just shake your head yes, smiling brightly.

“I need to be clear from the start, though. If my situation with my terminated marriage, and with my kids scares you or disturbs you in any way, I would like to know it right now.”

You shake your head vigorously. “I'm okay with that, as long as you're sure you're ready to try this for real.” You feel your eyes grow avoidant and your cheeks heat as you add, “I must admit, Seokjin, that I got it quite bad for you. If you were in this with no intention of things getting serious, I think I would be—” You search for the word. “I'd be disappointed. Strongly.”

He nods, then swallows you in his frame, your torso and his like two juxtaposed crescents. “I'm looking for something real. Something passionate and steady and reliable. Someone I can be a man with, a friend, and a father, and a partner too. I need someone for myself. Someone who can be mine, but also someone I can belong to.”

You nod then turn to look him in the eye, your bodies still spooned. You stretch to his lips and he kisses you, his eyes staring at your mouth before it goes out of focus.

It's immediately a matter of tongues and wetness and sucking, with just the right amount of teeth. His hands lose their peaceful rest and return to tantalising, seductive touches, veering south.

“Already?” you purr against his mouth, a slow smile already crumbling.

“You've got no idea what you started,” he says, tempting.

You chuckle, your laugh and his mixing. And you tell him, “Show me.”

More in this AU | MYG | KNJ

General masterlist

#ksj smut #kim seokjin smut #kim seokjin fanfiction #kim seokjin scenario #bts smut blog #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #Hbd Kim Seokjin I guess???#kim seokjin x reader #Kim Seokjin x yn #Seokjin x fawn #btswritersclub #bangtansorciere #52hertz #bts hyung line

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ugh-yoongi · 1 year

Text

riding fakie | ksj

(or, the one where you think you’re getting a fake boyfriend, but you end up with a whole lot more.)

→ pairing: seokjin x f. reader → genre(s): enemies to lovers (lite), fake dating | humor, fluff, angst → rating: mature → warnings: based entirely on this edit i saw ages ago so good luck, swearing, reader is a trust fund kid with awful parents so classism and screwy family dynamics, a very brief but referenced two-night-stand with taehyung who has a foot fetish (canon) and is ultimately plot irrelevant, this is lite enemies to lovers so sometimes they are not very nice to each other, kissing. i think that’s it? this is mostly tame, all things considered, but i will revise if needed. → word count: 14.2k → written for: the catch of the century collab. thank you to @raplinesmoon / @joheunsaram / & @kithtaehyung for hosting and allowing me to participate! ♡ → thank yous: my holy trinity for keeping me inspired and accountable and letting me know when i don’t word good. @the-boy-meets-evil / @hot-soop / @effortandmore. also my husband who actually skateboards and helped me to sound knowledgeable but will also never, ever see this. → a/n: [looking a whole lot like the dehydrated spongebob meme] hey, long time no see. this fic absolutely kicked my ass like nothing has ever kicked my ass before, but it’s finally done and here. i don’t think i’m super happy with how it turned out and i think it’s probably rushed, but i hope you all enjoy it regardless! now, if you need me i will be sobbing on the floor holding a locket with seokjin’s picture inside.

[THE THREAT]

The thing about privilege is—

Well, nothing. It’s just there, propped up in the corner, looming over every aspect of your life. And usually it’s fine. You want for nothing. People just hand things to you. But, just like the apple tree and Isaac Newton and the Law of Gravity—everything that goes up must come down. Nothing gold can stay. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. You might have your name and your money and your status, but you also have your parents and your brother.

Your brother, who has somehow found someone to marry him and is planning a wedding.

Your parents, who are threatening to revoke your trust fund if you don’t attend. And bring a date.

“I don’t want to hear it,” your mother says, preemptively cutting off your protests. She’s always had a knack for dictatorship, and another one for doing so as she barks orders to the hired help in the background. “This wedding is very important for us as a family. Do you know how bad it’d look if you not only didn’t show up, but showed up alone? It won’t do.”

On your end of the line, sitting at some bougie outdoor café with an overpriced latte in hand, you roll your eyes. “Wouldn’t it look worse to cut off your only daughter and leave her destitute? God forbid, what if I have to get a job?”

An aggravated click of her tongue. “I don’t know where you got that smart mouth of yours, but it’s unbecoming. I’ve at least managed to talk your brother’s fiancee out of including you in the bridal party, so you could show a bit of gratitude instead of being a brat.”

(Impossible, you think. Your brother had taken all the suck-up genes and left nothing for you. Alternatively, you’d taken all the backbone, so it’s almost even.)

“Why don’t you ask the youngest Jeon boy? They’re coming anyway, and it would look good for your father if the two of you were seen together.”

You grimace. “Jeongguk? Absolutely not.”

Another click. “Fine, but don’t you dare even think about showing up with some—”

“Piece of shit loser,” you finish for her. Usually she’d scold you for swearing, but it’s apparently allowed in the name of shitting on the middle-class. “Yes, Mother, I get it. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dare sully our good family name by associating with the poor.”

She doesn’t trust you, you can tell by the way she huffs and starts mumbling under her breath, but it’s clear she’s just as done with this conversation as you. “You have three months to figure it out.”

Privilege can go to hell.

[THE SEARCH]

Park Jimin is a lot of things.

He’s got money. He’s got hundreds of thousands of Instagram followers for no reason other than he’s hot. He’s got a closet full of in-season designer clothes, so he’d look stunning hanging off your arm in a tailored suit. He’s got charisma and charm and that innate ability to talk to anyone about all that boring shit you can’t stand.

Most importantly, he’s got a chip on his shoulder, too. He’s on your level.

Park Jimin is telling you no. “Sorry, I’ll be out of the country that weekend,” he says. He doesn’t look sorry. “One of those things I can’t skip. You know how it is.”

Your eyes narrow. “You’re full of shit.”

Park Jimin’s got a laugh that rings like Tiffany crystal. “Maybe.”

Still, you’re not above begging. The list of acceptable arm candy candidates (which you’ve taken to calling The Armcandidates, because you also got all the humor genes) is rapidly dwindling, and although Jimin’s not bottom of the barrel, he’s close. “Jimin, please. Whatever you want, I just need this one favor.”

“Don’t barter with things you’re not willing to give up,” he chides, nothing but heat. Would you fuck Jimin to keep your trust fund? Pillowy lips, slutty little waist, thighs that could crush your head like a grape—you could definitely do worse, all things considered.

“Who says I’m not?”

Jimin would come dead last in a poker tournament, the way surprise flashes across his face. “Well, in that case, I’m actually sorry I’ll be out of the country that weekend.”

You groan, head dropping onto your folded arms. “Can’t believe I outed myself like that and you’re still turning me down.”

Laughter trails behind him as he disappears into his massive closet. “Have you asked Taehyungie? He loves weddings.”

“The last time I talked to Kim Taehyung, he jerked off on my feet and cried. I don’t think I could look him in the eye, let alone invite him to my brother’s wedding.”

Jimin snorts. “He’s actually quite lovely once you get past the foot stuff. Think about it.”

Regretfully, not only do you think about asking Taehyung, you actually go through with it.

One day you’re talking to Jimin and the next thing you know, you’re once again on your back in Kim Taehyung’s bed. No weird feet shit this time, you’d told him, and, well, here you are. Skin tacky from sweat, entire room stinking of sex. Kim Taehyung is weird as hell but he’s unreasonably hot, and you’d made it all of ten minutes in his presence before folding.

(The last time it’d been five, so you’re making progress. Surely that’s something to be proud of.)

“I actually came here for a reason,” you say, still trying to catch your breath. Beside you, Taehyung hums an acknowledgement. You try not to wonder if he’s staring at your toes and that’s why he’s breathing so hard. “I need to bring a date to my brother’s wedding or my parents are gonna cut me off.”

He whistles. “Damn, that’s cold. Fully?”

“That’s what they say.”

“And you’ve decided to ask me? I’m honored, angel.”

“I asked Jimin first, to be fair.”

Taehyung’s face falls comically. “I’m no longer honored,” he jokes. “Jiminie’s great at weddings. He said no?”

You shrug. Something about his rejection still stings. You’re trying not to take it personally. Or think about it too much. “Said he’s going to be out of the country that weekend. Told me to ask you because you quote-unquote ‘love weddings’.”

“He said that?” Taehyung asks, voice pitched higher, dopey look overtaking his features. “Wow, we’re so in sync.” Wistful, like he’s lovesick. “We really must be soulmates.”

You choke. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

“Uh, no. Is the wedding the weekend he’s going to Milan?”

That ‘no’ seems to be carrying a lot of weight. You eye him suspiciously. “Apparently.”

“Ah, I’ll be in Paris. I asked him to come with me and he told me no, too. Guess you know how it feels.”

You sit up, sheets clutched to your chest. “Seriously, what’s going on with you two?”

Taehyung heaves a long-suffering sigh. “How much time do you have?”

You roll your eyes. “About three minutes.”

“Next time, then. Sorry I can’t help with the wedding. You’ll find someone, though.”

Another day, another rejection. You tell Taehyung not to look at your feet as you get dressed to leave.

Jung Hoseok isn’t generationally wealthy, but he’s got enough money to be deemed respectable in the eyes of your parents.

He’s also got a 24 karat smile and a meticulously highlighted and underlined study guide for your upcoming exam, so he’s currently ranked number one on your Armcandidates list.

“Hobi, have I ever told you you’re my favorite person?”

He eyes you over the lid of his coffee cup. “A few times, yeah.”

“Jung Hoseok,” you singsong, “actual sunshine, number one human, best thing since sliced bre—”

“If you finish that sentence with some fire of my loins Lolita bullshit I’m leaving.”

You pout. “I need a favor.”

He tosses the study guide in your direction. “Just take it. I have another copy in my bag.”

“Not that,” you say, but you take it anyway. Hoseok’s study guides are a thing of legend: even if you don’t use it, you’ll be able to sell it to some idiot underclassman for a week’s worth of coffee. The bougie kind with whipped cream on top. “I need a date for my brother’s wedding.”

Now it’s his turn to choke. “And you’re asking me?”

“Yeah? What’s wrong with asking you?”

He shrugs, suddenly antsy, like he’s too big for his skin. “I don’t know. Don’t you have, like, actual prospects? Every dude in our cohort wants to date you.”

“Because I’m hot and I have a shitload of money,” you retort, and Hoseok makes a face that says yeah, fair. “I’d rather be tarred and feathered than ask any of them. We’re friends, and I trust you. Additionally, your family’s rich enough to get my parents off my back and we’d look good together.”

“Ah, yes, that last point is very important.”

You scoff. “Of course it is, it’s my brother’s wedding. Do you know how many pictures I’m gonna be forced to take? Hundreds. Possibly thousands.”

“Sounds terrible.”

“It will be, which is why I need a brother-in-arms. A confidante. A comrade.”

“Have you asked Jimin? He’s great at weddings.”

You nearly start shrieking. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“...Is that a yes?”

“Of course I asked Jimin. I asked Taehyung, too. They’re both going to be out of the country and are probably fucking, and that’s not particularly something I want to get in the middle of.” Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “It could be serious,” you argue. “Like, Actual Feelings kind of stuff, and that shit gets messy.”

“Yeah, fair,” Hoseok concedes, out loud this time. “Plus Tae has that weird foot thing.”

“Exactly! So you get it.” Finally, a lead! “Will you come, then?” You flutter your eyelashes. “Pretty please, Hobi.”

“When is it?” As you rattle off the date, Hoseok digs through his bag for his phone. Then he pulls up his calendar and frowns. “Shit, no can do, either. My elective rotation starts that prior Monday.”

“Ew. What elective are you taking?”

Hoseok nearly blinds you as he smiles. “Reproductive endo and infertility.”

Your eyes widen. “Holy shit, that one you applied to ages ago? You got it?” He nods. “Oh my god, Hobi, that’s amazing!” You launch across the table to hug him. “I still hate you for bailing, but think of all the tiny raisins you’re gonna help bring into the world!” You wipe away a fake tear. “You’re a god amongst men, Jung Hoseok.”

He takes a bow. “Thank you, thank you. Speaking of which, how’s the volunteer gig in the ER treating you?”

“It’s fine.” You groan, put-upon, and sometimes Hoseok is so smiley and endearing that you feel guilty unloading all of your burdens on him, so you aren’t going to. Not unless he asks. Because he’s prone to dramatics and neuroticism but not like you are, and you know it can be a lot for someone not expecting it.

However—

“That’s good. Is that annoying guy you told me about still bothering you?”

Wrong question.

You cock an eyebrow. “This is the third time this week.”

In front of you, Kim Seokjin just grins, dried blood cracking on his plush lower lip. “Yep.”

“It’s Tuesday,” you deadpan. The grin grows wider, warping the purple-black bruise beneath his eye.

Because he’s arguably the most annoying person on earth, Seokjin just hums an acknowledgement, leaning further against the reception desk. “Well,” he says, voice interlaced with honey, “you’d have to take that up with the Babylonians, since they invented the modern calendar. Not much I can do about that.”

A pause. Then, “You’re really fucking annoying, do you know that?”

“It's a bit rude to insult someone seeking out your services, don’t you think?”

You roll your eyes, pushing your tongue into the fat of your cheek. “Not really. Not if it’s you.”

Surprisingly—or maybe not, considering everything seems to roll off his back—a laugh comes tumbling out of him. “Listen, I know it’s probably overwhelming to be blessed with the sight of this face not once, but three times in a week. I can understand and excuse your insensitivity, so I won’t report you this time, but—”

Ignoring him, you slam a clipboard onto the space between you. “You know the drill.”

“What if I’ve forgotten it?”

“Name, address, insurance information, reason for treatment.”

“You know my name, you know where I live, insurance hasn’t changed, and I’m just here to soak in your sparkling personality.”

With as murderous a stare as you can muster, you push the clipboard further in his direction. It hits something solid. Probably a rib, judging by Seokjin’s pained wheeze, but you don’t get paid enough to care. “Do you need a pen?”

“Why, so you can stab me with it?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

He rolls his eyes. Thumbs through the intake forms and pretends to read them, even though the last time he had to sign one he’d just drawn a stick figure giving you the finger. “Have you ever spoken to anyone about your sociopathic tendencies? Might do you some good.”

With prolonged eye contact, you toss a pen in his direction. Hits him square between the eyes. “A million times,” you deadpan. This is where you’d blow a bubble and pop it if you were allowed to chew gum on the clock. “I’ve been diagnosed with an incurable case of bitchitis. It’s a very tragic burden to bear. Fill out the form.”

Seokjin huffs. Stays standing right in front of you as he does as you say, ignoring the line of people behind him that’s rapidly stacking up. Someone towards the back yells at him to get out of the way, but the protest dies immediately once he turns around and smiles. You think an elderly woman faints. She definitely bobbles, at the very least.

“Thanks so much for your help,” Seokjin says, handing the forms back with a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. They’re free of doodled middle fingers, so you wave him off. “Have a great day,” he lobs over his shoulder. When you look down, he’s giving you the finger at waist-height.

“Have the day you deserve,” you fire back.

Your skin needles with anxiety for the rest of the day.

Seokjin comes into the emergency room again on Friday.

He’s got a large gash just above his eyebrow that’s gonna need stitches. You tell him as much as he fills out the same forms as the day before, and he tells you to tell him something he doesn’t know as he rolls his eyes and winces immediately.

“Here’s something you don’t seem to know: karma is real, and she also thinks you’re an asshole.”

You get the finger again for that one. Honestly, you can’t say you don’t deserve it.

“Kiss my ass.”

You pretend to pout. “Health hazard. Against hospital policy.”

Seokjin pauses. Seems to study you for a while, and then he’s cocking an eyebrow and asking, “What do you actually do here, anyway? Besides be a giant bitch.”

Wordlessly, you point at your name tag. There, right beneath your first and last name, lies the answer to Seokjin’s question. He squints. Winces again. “You’re a med student?”

Again, you point at your name tag.

“That means I can write a complaint.”

“Go ahead,” you retort. “My mother’s on the board of directors, and luckily for you she already knows I’m a giant bitch.”

Seokjin snorts, jaw dropping slightly. Just enough to draw attention to his mouth, which you’ve seen a hundred times for a hundred different injuries, but it looks especially sinful today. Maybe it’s just because he’s being mean to you, which is something you might need to explore with Taehyung in exchange for pictures of your feet.

“Ah, I should’ve known. You’ve got overwhelming nepo kid energy. Probably never had to work for anything a day in your life, huh? Probably a legacy to whatever shit-tier medical school was bribed into accepting you, too.”

Until now, you’d thought your banter with Seokjin was relatively harmless. Barbed, sure, and definitely effective. You’d throttle Seokjin if given the chance, and you know he’d do the same. But it’s never been outright cruel.

You try to look unfazed. Try to look like you don’t care about Seokjin and his words at all, because they’re nothing you haven’t heard before. Not like you’d asked to be born to your parents, so shit like this usually rolled off your back.

Now, though—

Your face must fall, just a little, because Seokjin immediately looks remorseful. Moves to say something, but you’re retrieving his clipboard and intake paperwork before he can stutter out an apology. “Thanks. They’ll call you back shortly.”

“Hey, I—“

“You can take a seat over there,” you interject, eyes locked on your computer screen. If you tear up, you can just blame it on eye strain.

You don’t see Seokjin for another two weeks.

And that’s… fine. His absence has given you some time to digest, some time to mull things over, decide if you’re actually upset or if you’d gone temporarily insane. It’d taken ten days, but you came to the conclusion that it’d just been a fleeting moment of sensitivity. People are mean to you all the time in the ER; if you took each insult or attack on your character to heart, you’d be in for a world of hurt.

So, yeah. You’d had a rough day and Seokjin saying you were a good-for-nothing nepot stung a little. That’s it.

Because you’ve got more pressing matters to attend to. You’ve managed to piss away an entire month without securing a date to the wedding, and now you’ve got time breathing down your neck. Two months, your mother’s shrill voice shrieks in your head, and it devolves into weeks and days and hours the longer you let yourself spiral. It’d seemed like so long before: you’d been so certain you’d have a date by the end of day one, and then the universe had to go and humble you. Cruel.

But the universe is also fair, because one day it’s been two weeks since you’ve seen Seokjin, and the next it’s a painfully slow Thursday afternoon and he strolls in with splinted fingers and a sheepish, weary expression.

“Uh, hi.”

You look up from your computer, taking in all the bruises and scars that dot his face but take nothing away from the beauty of it. “Sorry, exorcism hours ended at noon.”

Seokjin swallows, nostrils flaring. He looks like he wants to argue, just because he’s him and you’re you, but he acquiesces with a little nod. “Fair. I deserved that.”

“Here for the usual?” you ask, tone dry and neutral. When Seokjin doesn’t answer, you grab a clipboard and start your usual spiel—name, address, insurance information, reason for treatment—and then there’s a choked-off sound, not unlike a cat dying.

He looks pained when you dare a glance. Face contorted into a grimace, just like all the parents who bring in their constipated babies. “No, no,” he says. Sucks in a deep breath, and you nearly roll your eyes in exasperation. This guy’s acting like he’s about to give a speech at the goddamn United Nations. “I’m here to… apologize?”

You blink. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling you?” A pause. “Yeah, definitely telling you.”

“Okay.” Another pause. Seokjin fidgets, shifts his weight from one leg to the other, wipes probably-sweaty palms on his jeans, picks up every pen in the cup and drops it back in. “Well, the floor is yours.” More silence. His face seems to shift into reluctant acceptance. “Any day now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

“I was having a bad day and I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Okay.”

“I still think you’re really mean—”

“Sure, that’s fair.”

“—but I’d like to make it up to you. I think.”

“You sure are thinking a lot. Wanna give those brain cells a break?”

“Fuck you,” he replies automatically. “Here I am, trying to be nice—”

An idea strikes you then. Parts the hazy recesses of your mind like the Red Sea, and it feels like you’ve been struck by lightning. “How were you planning on making it up to me?”

Because he’s not wholly an idiot, Seokjin sends you a pointed look. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You’re sure your smile looks straight out of a Creepypasta, but there’s an opportunity here, and you’d be a fool to let it slip through your fingers. “Because I just so happen to need a favor, and here you are, ready to dish one out.”

“I never said it was a favor.”

You pout. “But Seokjin,” you whine, “you were so mean.”

One of his eyes twitches. “Why does this feel like a crossroads deal?”

“I think the Grinch felt similar. Right before his heart grew three sizes and he saved Christmas.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and you can almost see the scales tipping in his brain, weighing whether or not it’s a good idea to entertain you at all. Which is impressive, all things considered, because he doesn’t even know what you’ll ask for yet. He could be expecting something humiliating at his expense, or a monetary bribe—you’re pretty certain asking for a date will catch him fully off-guard.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing big,” you reply easily. Twirl your hair around your finger. Bat your eyelashes. “Just a little date.”

Seokjin sputters. “A what.”

“A date,” you repeat. “I just so happen to need a date to my brother’s wedding, and you just so happen to be overcome with guilt. It’s a win-win.”

“We don’t even like each other!”

You click your tongue. “Even better, because I don’t like my brother, either!”

“So this is… what? A game? Some kind of petty revenge? Bring the guy who looks like me to your brother’s wedding to rebel against your parents?”

“Yes, absolutely,” you answer, not even bothering to sugarcoat it. Seokjin doesn’t seem convinced. You sigh. “Look, you can say no. Or I can throw in something extra if it feels unfair—”

“Like what?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, I haven’t had time to prepare a fucking offer sheet, Seokjin. What do you want?”

“Depends. What’s this all entail? Is it a one-time thing or do I have to pretend to be your boyfriend?”

You choke. “My boyf—” But then it hits you: your brother will hate this. Your parents will hate it even more. Without even needing to ask, it’s clear Seokjin isn’t from your world, and if they’re ready to disinherit you for showing up to your brother’s wedding alone, might as well commit to the bit. So you clear your throat and smile again. “And if I say yes?”

“It’ll cost more,” Seokjin deadpans.

You nod, feeling a little like you’re swindling this poor man. “Add it to my tab, boyfriend.”

[THE MEETING]

Finding a date was supposed to be the hard part. Turns out, it’s only the beginning.

Your parents are thrilled and a little stunned when you tell them you’ve secured a plus-one. (So is your brother, but you have better luck with him listening when you tell him to fuck off. It’s a little hard to say the same to your mother and father when they’re dangling a trust fund in front of you like a carrot.) And, in true upper echelon form, they grill you. For hours. Family name, family business, how you met, what their intentions are, blah blah blah. You feel a migraine coming on somewhere around question two.

Eventually, your mother says, “I don’t know about this,” and your father grunts in agreement. You don’t think he’s used full words in years. Not with you.

“What’s there to know?” you whine, nearly rolling your eyes. “I’m not marrying the guy. It’s just a date.”

Your mother flutters around the kitchen, pointedly not looking at you. It’s weird seeing her like this: almost like a real mother, almost like she’s going to say something comforting and serve you a plate of freshly-baked cookies instead of huffing and puffing at everything you say and treating you like a pariah. “Do you even know this young man?”

“Of course I know him.”

“Do I need to remind you that it’s bad etiquette to bring a first date to a wedding?”

There’s a pang of annoyance that you have to tamper down. “It’s not a first date.”

“Oh? You’ve been seeing him regularly?”

This time you do roll your eyes. “Sure, Mom.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at your mother,” your father says, not bothering to lower the newspaper in front of him.

“How did you—”

“Is this young man your boyfriend?”

You think about what Seokjin had said: It’ll cost more. Not, you couldn’t pay me eight billion dollars to pretend to date you. Not, no thanks I’d rather die. Just, it’ll cost more. So, as you sit in this opulent kitchen with your parents and some ungodly amount of Italian marble, you think there’s nothing you wouldn’t pay to make these people miserable. These people, who never saw you beyond a status symbol. That traditional nuclear family tucked behind the white picket fence. Two kids. Golden retriever. Pool boy. Family vacations to five-star resorts, only your parents smiling in the pictures before they abandoned you and your brother with the nanny.

So, no, Seokjin isn’t your boyfriend. Not really. But he’s willing to play the part and that’s good enough. “Yeah,” you answer, and one simple word stops your mother in her tracks and gets your father to finally abandon his stupid newspaper, and just this little bit of power feels nice.

“Oh,” comes your mother’s reply. She shares a look with your father.

Because the patriarchy is alive and well and he loves to play the arbiter, he says, “I think we should meet him.”

And, because you’re not an idiot, you say, “Don’t forget the rule was that I had to find a date, not that you had to approve them.”

With a huff, your father disappears again behind his newspaper.

You: i need another favor

Rapid Onset Migraine: how much

You: shouldn’t my boyfriend want to do nice things for me out of the kindness of his own heart

Rapid Onset Migraine: no

(“Shouldn’t you have him saved under his actual name? Maybe a little heart emoji?” Hoseok asks, looking over your shoulder. “Unless he has a degradation kink, I don’t think anyone’s going to buy that someone named Rapid Onset Migraine is actually your boyfriend.”

“Shut up, Hobi. It’s one of those things that are violently affectionate and ironically cute.” A pause. Then—“Do you think Thunderclap Headache is better?”

“No. No, I definitely do not.”)

You: you don’t even know what the favor is

Rapid Onset Migraine: don’t care

You: fine

You: i would like to formally demand your presence at dinner with my parents this thursday at 7

Rapid Onset Migraine: i’m busy

You: i will literally venmo you rn to cancel your plans

Rapid Onset Migraine: i’m suddenly free. @jin-k92

Rapid Onset Migraine: five hundred dollars please

You: fuck off

You: $50. final offer. take it or leave it

Rapid Onset Migraine: leave it

You: sent. see you thursday!

It’s Tuesday night and you’re fresh off your shift, headed to your car, looking forward to doing nothing but absorbing into your couch and maybe using that new bath bomb, when someone on a skateboard crashes into you.

You’re on your ass before you can process, stunned, staring up at the fluorescent lights of the parking lot. A familiar face enters your line of sight, not looking all that apologetic. “Whoops.”

You groan. “Worst boyfriend ever,” you retort, sticking your hand in the air. “At least help me up.”

There’s absolutely no grace in the way Seokjin hauls you to your feet. Doesn’t bother to steady you when you bobble, either, and you have half a mind to give him the finger. Instead, you say, “Are you stalking me?” and delight in the split-second of panic that overtakes his features.

“No,” he eventually says, expression right back to neutral. “You’ve already agreed to date me. Why would I need to stalk you?”

“There’s at least seventeen different problems with that statement and I’m not going to touch any of them.” You take a second to look him over: no obvious injuries, still obnoxiously attractive. Hair a little longer than usual, rogue strands hanging loose and framing his face. No one should be allowed to look like this. He really, really gets on your nerves. “Why are you here, though? You look fine.”

“I am fine—”

“Uninjured,” you clarify, which earns you a scoff.

“I’m that, too,” he snarks, “but I came to find you to figure out the game plan.”

“Why didn’t you just text me?”

“I was already in the area,” he lies.

“Uh-huh.”

“And I thought I could con you into buying me dinner.”

“What’d you do with the fifty bucks I sent you the other day?”

Seokjin looks at you like you’re dumb. You’re really starting to wonder if you are. “I spent it.”

“On what?”

“Are you my accountant now?” he huffs.

“No, but you’re not my sugar baby, either. Buy your own dinner.”

He bats his lashes at you. “But honey…”

“Fuck off, Seokjin,” you say, stomping towards your car. Unsurprisingly, he’s right behind you, the wheels of his skateboard noisy as they glide along the concrete. “This is why you’re always needing stitches?” you ask, knowing he’s close enough to hear.

“Yep.” A louder noise; probably some kind of trick. You’re not going to dignify him by watching and being impressed.

During your second semester of college, Hoseok had gotten you into this horrible habit of parking far away. So you get your steps in, had been his reasoning, and it’s hard to say whether you’d given in to the 10,000 steps per day hysteria or just Hoseok’s convincing, evil little smile, but you still do it. And you’re really regretting it now, when you have to traipse through a half-mile of parking lot with the world’s most annoying person on your heels.

“Are you gonna take me to dinner, though?”

That’s how you wind up sitting across from him at a diner.

His cheeseburger is demolished in record time. Fries are halfway gone, too, by the time he asks what the plan is and seems genuinely shocked when you say there isn’t one.

“What do you mean there’s no plan?”

“There’s no plan,” you repeat, dipping your own fry into his ketchup just so he has to swat your hand away. “I mean, dinner is at seven, but that’s it.”

Seokjin looks confused, like you’ve tilted his world on its axis. “There’s gotta be a plan,” he argues. “There’s always a plan with you trust fund kids.”

Another dig, and you can tell by the way he avoids your gaze once he makes it. “There’s really no plan,” you say, ignoring the quip. There’s a reason you’ve got a fake boyfriend, and it’s not because your parents are benevolent and easy-going. “I don’t care what you tell my parents.”

“Now I know for sure you’re setting me up.”

You shrug. “Believe whatever you want.”

Seokjin studies you, clearly still unconvinced. “You’re telling me,” he begins, sticking the straw of his root beer float in his mouth, “that I can just walk in there and sabotage you? That I have carte blanche? That I can tell them you literally paid me to be there?” You shrug. There’s a disgusting slurping sound. You grimace.

“Well, I’m hoping you won’t, but I certainly can’t stop you.”

“You’re terrible at fake dating.”

A sigh escapes you before you can stop it. You don’t want to delve into twenty-plus years of parental trauma, especially not with this guy, but sometimes it can’t be helped. “Look, I don’t want to go to my brother’s wedding. I don’t like him, and I don’t like my parents. No one else wanted to fake date me”—you hold up your hand to kill the obvious comment before he makes it—“and, honestly, my parents are gonna hate you and that’s the entire reason I asked for your help. So, no, I don’t care what you tell them, because I don’t care if they approve. I’m sick of them making me jump through hoops just to be their kid.”

Unfazed, Seokjin breezily replies, “You obviously care enough to keep taking their money.”

“I consider my trust fund to be reparations.”

“That why you were so touchy about that nepotism comment?”

Nodding, you fidget with the hem of your scrub top, hands suddenly sweaty. “Well, it doesn’t feel great to have my accomplishments credited to my last name or whatever, but it’s not something I can stop anyone from assuming.”

“Are they?”

“It’d be naive to think they aren’t.”

“You got into med school, though,” Seokjin says, and you tamper down the flush that’s creeping in. You are not going to care about any man’s acknowledgement. “That’s not an easy thing to do.”

“Can you tell my parents that?”

A laugh bellows out of him, and you’re horrified to learn it’s a terrible sound. Everyone in the diner turns to stare, and you’re flushed crimson and trying to duck under the table.

Still, you can’t help but smile. Your parents really are going to have a stroke.

To your delight, Seokjin is good at getting people to hate him. Like, really good—almost scarily so.

He’d shown up twenty minutes late, having ignored the dress code entirely, clad in a pair of ripped black jeans and a plain black t-shirt, arm tattoos and innumerable scars proudly on display. He hadn’t bothered to shake your father’s hand or introduce himself to your mother, just fell into the seat next to you, stage-whispered a, this place is a shithole huh, and stuck his nose in a menu. When the waiter came by, he ordered a bottle of wine older than the two of you combined and the most expensive entree on the menu.

Now, an hour in, your parents are teetering on the edge of a major cardiac event.

“So, Seokjin,” your father says, voice gritty and forced, “what do you do?”

Seokjin shoves a large piece of meat in his mouth, making sure to smack his lips. “What d’you mean?” he asks, the question garbled around the food.

“For a living.”

Scarily good, you think. Seokjin pretends to choke, pretends to look shocked and appalled. “I don’t work,” he answers, tone bang-on to the one your parents use when they’re being condescending. “My parents give me money, and I figured I’d date this one”—he flicks you in the temple—“until she becomes a doctor and can support me. Then we’ll get married.”

Your mother gasps. Your smile is involuntary.

Your father, on the other hand, knocks over his wine glass. Spills it all over the table, goes red in the face, and it’s the most distressed you’ve ever seen him, usually composed to a fault, immovable. “You’ll do no such thi—”

Seokjin fakes a yawn. “You ready, babe?” He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, just stands, tosses his napkin on the table, and grabs your hand. The two of you are out of the restaurant before either of your parents can utter a word.

Feels like one of those movie moments, you think: the cool breeze in your hair, against your flushed cheeks, your hand in Seokjin’s, both of you not daring to breathe or make a sound until you’re safe outside, away from your parents and their gobsmacked expressions. And then you crack, just enough for laughter to spill out, and Seokjin snorts, another horrible sound, and before you know it, the two of you are collapsed against the side of the restaurant, tears in your eyes as the brick scrapes against your skin.

Maybe something shifts. Maybe the smile Seokjin sends you is genuine.

[THE RELATIONSHIP]

Much to your horror, fake relationships aren’t all that different from normal, authentic ones.

Which means two things: one, that your brother and his wife-to-be both received an earful from your parents about Seokjin and The Dinner, and two, you still have to compromise.

The first one wasn’t so bad. Your brother had called you and issued a vague threat, of course, because he’s never had a sense of humor about anything, but you hadn’t answered so it’d been easy to delete the voicemail and forget about it. And, luckily for him, your future sister-in-law was far more lax. Bring him, she’d texted. He sounds like a good time.

You’re not sure you’d describe Kim Seokjin as a good time, but you replied with a thumbs-up emoji regardless.

All of that had been fine. You’re well-versed in dealing with your family by now, so it’s easy to let their bullshit wash over you and down the drain like rainwater.

No, it’s the fake but has to look at least semi-real relationship that’s proving to be difficult.

Because you don’t like to compromise. You want to do what you want to do when you want to do it, and you don’t want to hear about it from anyone. But here you are, doing a quasi-photoshoot with Seokjin so he can “soft launch” you on his Instagram—which, honestly, is a little daunting. He has a lot of followers. Not surprising, considering the way he looks, but the thought of being perceived by hundreds of thousands of strangers makes you feel like you’re wearing your skin inside-out.

“Can you try looking less constipated?” he asks, tone dry as toast as he scrolls through the series of selfies the two of you just took.

You scoff. “First of all, I don’t look constipated.” Really, you don’t. “Second of all, why do you even need to do this? We only have to convince my parents, and you pissed them off so bad I’m not sure they’ll ever ask me to bring a date to anything ever again.”

“Because I have a competition next weekend that you’ll have to go to, and I don’t want anyone asking any questions.”

“What if I’m busy?”

“You’re not,” Seokjin retorts, all conviction. “If I had to clear my schedule for that dinner, you’re free for this.”

“What if I have a school thing?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. He’s looking at you, and you’re looking at him through his phone camera. It’s really not fair, the way his face is. “Do you?”

“No, but what if?”

He takes another picture and cackles, gleefully showing it to you. “See? You definitely look constipated.”

With a glare, you wrestle the phone out of his hand and aim it the way you want—the way you know looks good. And maybe you do a little pout, too; do that thing with your eyes that looks seductive and a little dirty. Not because you care about what Seokjin’s followers think, because you’re hot and you know it, but because you want him to suffer. Just a little bit. It’s illogical, the way you want him to look at this picture and feel… something. Half pride, half longing.

So, you angle and pout. Delight in the caught-out expression on Seokjin’s face this time, like it’s the first time he’s learning that you’re hot and that it troubles him a little. “Is that better?” you ask, sugar-sweet.

Seokjin doesn’t respond, just posts the picture to his Instagram story.

Skateboarding has never been your thing.

Your brother had gone through a phase, once. Spent all his allowance on the video games and collected CCS catalogs, spending imaginary money as he’d thumb through the pages and circle everything he wanted. Never bought a real board, though—just developed a superiority complex because he listened to the Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2 soundtrack one too many times and thought it was a legitimate substitute for actual pre-teen rebellion.

However, fake-dating Seokjin means you’re getting a crash course.

“What do these do?” you ask, holding up a set of wheels. There’s an alien holding a bong on them. They make you laugh.

Seokjin eyes you from across the shop and pointedly ignores your question. Instead, the disgruntled guy behind the register answers. “They’re wheels,” he says, tone clipped, which you answer with a surprised noise, like you’ve discovered something new.

“Wow, wheels,” you intone. “Cool.”

Done picking out new grip tape, or whatever the hell he’d said, Seokjin plucks the wheels from your hand and puts them back where you’d gotten them. “Fascinating invention, huh?”

The man behind the register smells like weed. Reeks of it, actually, and the stench is almost overbearing as you sidle up next to Seokjin at the counter. Yoongi, his name tag reads. You don’t think he looks like a Yoongi, because it kind of lends itself to a stoner character, but it also sounds kind of sweet, and the man in front of you looks like he could snap you like a twig and enjoy it.

Then—“Oh, you’re Instagram girl.”

You scowl. “I’m who.”

First, you’re reduced to nepotism and your family name; now it’s Instagram. There’s a huff halfway out of your mouth when Seokjin wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you against his side. You think he’d press a kiss to your temple if this was real. “My beautiful girlfriend,” he says, playfully hip-checking you.

Yoongi looks between the two of you, then pushes the tape back in Seokjin’s direction. “You know you don’t have to pay for this shit, man.”

“Sure, but I can. I have a rich girlfriend now.”

He yelps when you step on his foot with the heel of your boot. “Aren’t you so lucky,” you grit out.

You don’t see the way his gaze softens, but Yoongi sure does.

Anticipation crackles in the air.

Feels like the day you’d sat for the MCAT—that brand of nervous, determined focus, bordering on excitement. Something that will really only go one of two ways with a million variables, and it’s a small relief to not be the one in the hot seat.

Hoseok had been there last time. Now, a man that’s seemingly all limbs plops down beside you, ungraceful and awkward.

“You’re Instagram girl,” he says, before sticking his hand out. “Hi, I’m Namjoon.”

Seems like Seokjin’s idea of a soft launch is anything but. Briefly, you wonder how many more people are going to forego your identity entirely in the name of Instagram, but it’s kind of nice, too—nice to be someone other than your parents’ daughter, your brother’s sister, your family name. There’s a long way to go before the patriarchy is smashed entirely, because it’s not so nice to be newly reduced to Seokjin’s girlfriend, but baby steps.

For now, it’s all right.

For now, there are far worse things you could be.

“Hi, Namjoon,” you finally reply, because he seems out of place and nice enough—nicer than Yoongi, at least. Definitely far less gruff and abrasive.

He chokes a little, like he’s surprised you responded to him. Not for the first time, it’s just sort of par for the course when you are who you are. “Oh, sorry,” he says, cheeks flushing under the guise of the relentless afternoon sun. “I just—recognized you? And couldn’t help myself? Which probably sounds really creepy, which was not my intent, it’s just—Jin doesn’t bring anyone to these things. Like, ever. So it was a little shocking! Kind of like meeting a celebrity? Even though I’ve never really done that, either. Oh! I met Greta Thunberg once. That was cool. It was, like, on accident, though? So…”

On and on he goes, bless him, because he just talks endlessly without expecting a response. You look around: the bleachers are starting to fill up, awestruck kids with humored parents, and you wonder what that’s like. To have an interest in something and have it nurtured, instead of having to live up to expectations you never wanted. Maybe you would’ve been a skateboarder, too. Maybe you would’ve shucked all those societal norms and did something you wanted, even though it doesn’t really matter now.

“Hey,” you say, stopping Namjoon’s latest spiel in its tracks, “do you come to these things often?”

Namjoon lights up like Christmas. People must not ask him about himself much. “Yeah! Well, sometimes? I’m in grad school, so I come when I have time. I thought it’d be a good idea to get two master’s degrees, so I finished my first one—in philosophy, before you ask, which was pretty stupid, because what am I gonna do with that, you know? But I guess it worked, because I had a full-blown existential crisis and decided to get a second one to put off the inevitable second existential crisis over what I was going to do with my life—”

“What was that one in?”

Namjoon startles again, and it’s almost hopelessly endearing. “Huh? Oh, Botany and Plant Pathology.”

You blink. “Plant pathology?”

“Yeah! It’s really interesting, because everything’s connected, right? Like, you can’t really fight climate change and food insecurity if you have all these diseased crops and forests, and I leaned pretty heavily into biological philosophy for my first degree, especially environmental ethics and conservation—”

“...And you come to skateboarding competitions for fun?”

His ears turn red; his cheeks and neck follow shortly thereafter. “I like physics, and skateboarding has a lot of physics.”

Just your luck. “Can you explain to me what’s going on, then?”

Namjoon does as you ask, and takes his job very seriously. He explains the rules and the implications, the rankings and what they mean for the future, who’s who and the major players. He explains tricks as they happen—how they got their names, who did them first, notable events. You remember your brother screaming at the TV the night Tony Hawk landed the 900 at the X Games, and Namjoon’s smile is so bright when you tell him about it.

“Yeah, that’s—that was so fucking cool, man. You know he was 31 when he did that? I think about that sometimes. There’s all this emphasis on aging, this juvenile notion that life peaks in your twenties, that you need to have it all figured out before you’re thirty: the job, the marriage, the house with the white picket fence, and it’s bullshit. I know it’s bullshit, but sometimes I feel like I haven’t accomplished anything at my age, and I just think: Tony Hawk landed the first 900 when he was 31 years old, and now 10 year olds are doing it. That’s fucking dope.”

He’s off on another tangent almost immediately, telling you about how he’d met Seokjin and how they became friends. You hear none of it. Seokjin comes in second place. You don’t remember much of the celebration, either.

You can’t shake the feeling that you’ve been dunked in ice-cold water. Feels a bit like drowning.

You’re good at compartmentalizing.

You have to be, growing up in the family you did. Because Namjoon’s words had rattled you, sure, but you can’t linger on them. Lectures still need to be attended, hospital shifts still need to be worked, and it’d really hurt Hoseok’s feelings if you bailed on your study sessions, so you have to tuck away all those wayward thoughts for later.

Not until you’re alone, tucked into bed far too early for someone in their mid-20s, do you think about it.

Well, it’s less ‘thinking’ and more ‘ah, these are the existential crises Namjoon was talking about.’ Certainly not your first crisis, and it won’t be your last, but it’s still… unnerving. Being a doctor was something you’d always been rock-solid about. You hadn’t wanted to go into business like your father and brother, had no interest in kissing ass in the political sphere and wielding influence like your mother, but you’d been told all your life you had to do something. Something important, something impressive, something worth bragging about—because what were you worth if your parents couldn’t talk endlessly at fundraisers about how much better you were than everyone else?

You glance at the clock: almost two a.m. There’s only one person that’ll be awake at this hour, even though you shouldn’t. Seokjin has one job, and it isn’t talking you off the proverbial ledge in the middle of the night. Still—

You: you up?

Rapid Onset Migraine: this is happening a little fast don’t you think?

You: ??? huh

You: wait no

You: that’s NOT what i meant

Rapid Onset Migraine: yeah sure

Rapid Onset Migraine: well obviously i’m awake

Rapid Onset Migraine: you ok?

You: yeah, i’m sorry to bother you about this

You: i think i’m just having a bad time?

That’s that, you think, because minutes pass without a response. But then your phone’s vibrating, lighting up in your hand. Rapid Onset Migraine flashes across the screen, his contact photo set to a meme of Handsome Squidward just because you’d thought it was funny.

“Hello?”

“Sorry,” he says immediately, “I needed to make a pot of coffee before I had this conversation.”

You hum. The comment doesn’t sting. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink coffee.”

“I don’t,” Seokjin answers. “Well, not usually. Only if I have an early flight or something.”

“Or need to talk through your fake girlfriend’s two a.m. existential crisis?”

“Yeah.” Seokjin laughs, and it’s almost enough of a balm. “But I’m friends with Namjoon, so I’m an expert in those by now. I keep weird hours, anyway, you know? I’m either skating or gaming, so he used to call me at, like, four in the morning because he’d read too much Kierkegaard or Beauvoir and was spiraling.” You hear him take a sip of coffee. He starts sputtering immediately. “Shit, that’s hot. Fuck, I think I burnt my tongue off.”

“Luckily you know a doctor.”

“I do,” he says, and his tone is warm. Almost proud? “Anyway, what’s going on? You read Being and Nothingness, too, or what?”

For a moment, you’re just quiet, trying to think of the words to say. You’re well aware of your privilege, make a conscious effort to not throw it around the way others might, so there’s a lot of guilt that comes with something like this. You know what people probably think: poor little rich girl, with her family money and their connections, it must be so hard to be her. It’s not, and you’re fine, but—

“Did you always want to skate professionally?” you ask, because you figure it’s safe. Doesn’t give it all away, even though Seokjin’s smart enough to read between the lines.

And, to your surprise, he plays along. Doesn’t call you out or press on the bruise, just says, “Hm, no, not really.”

“No?” you repeat, incredulous. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he confirms. “This is really embarrassing, but I wanted to get into software engineering or coding. Whatever would let me make video games.”

“Why would that be embarrassing?”

“Because it’s me?” Seokjin forces a laugh, pure self-deprecation. “That’s the kind of stuff people like Namjoon do. And that’s—it’s fine. I’m good at skateboarding and I get paid to do it. That’s the kind of thing kids dream about, right? Getting paid to travel around and skateboard all day?” He sighs, and it’s broken in a way that’s unsettling and familiar. A sound that could be coming from your own lips. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it and I’m thankful I get to do this as a job, it’s just not what I thought I’d be doing with my life.”

A brief silence, and then Seokjin’s talking again before you can reply, which you’re glad for. Everything feels off-center. “Is that what’s going on? School stress?”

“Maybe,” you admit, still a little breathless. “I’m just… struggling? I think? With knowing what’s actual desire and what’s just expectation.”

“Ah, I see. I don’t think I can really help with that beyond empathizing, but I’m sorry you’re going through it.” Then, like he’s telling you a secret, “If it helps at all, I think it takes a lot of courage to do this kind of introspection. It’s not easy, especially when you’re likely to find things you don’t want to.”

You can’t help but snort, but it’s gentle. Quiet, though still loud in the stillness of your bedroom. “Thanks,” you eventually reply. “Surprisingly comforting.”

“Yah, I’ll have you know I’m a very comforting person!”

“Of course you are.”

“Besides,” he says, and his tone takes on such conviction you’re sure you’ll believe whatever comes out of his mouth next with no hesitation, “it’s fine if you decide this isn’t what you wanna do. It’s never too late, or whatever, but for what it’s worth, I think you’re going to be a great doctor.”

“Or whatever,” you echo, smile creeping up on you. “That makes it sound so easy.”

“I guess it is.”

What’s it like to live like that, you wonder. Completely devoid of expectations, just going with the flow, doing what you want without crippling fear of the consequences. Must be nice, is your conclusion. Life doesn’t work like that for you, and you’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with that, so it’s fine. You’re on a path and maybe it’s not what you would’ve chosen had you had time to look at all the possibilities, but you’re on a path and it’s yours.

You want to say this to Seokjin. You want to thank him, both for the pep talk and the unfounded confidence, but your eyelids feel heavy and he’s just babbling now, something about the first time he landed a tre flip, and it’s soothing. Comforting.

Sleep takes you before you can think about it too hard—think about how Seokjin used to be nothing but a menace, the worst part of your day, and now he’s not.

You’re on another night shift, third in a row, and you’re the kind of exhausted that has you smelling colors.

Nothing makes sense. Your bones hurt. When you think about going home and finally going to bed it feels like when you’re starving and wait too long to eat and don’t feel hungry anymore. Then you finally do and it’s not satisfying, kind of makes your stomach hurt, and the cycle repeats.

Seokjin texts you to check in. After your two a.m. convo, you’re hyperaware of how much time you spend venting, so you assure him you’re fine. He drops off a coffee and some snacks, anyway. Just because he’s already up.

—

There are other hangouts. You don’t call them dates, because that word has implications and meaning and this is fake, but you have them nonetheless.

Overindulgent takeaway, equally expensive alcohol that has sat unopened in your apartment for far too long, shitty movies playing in the background, and Seokjin’s inability to stop talking. He sneakily lobs popcorn at you when he thinks you aren’t looking. This prompts an all-out war, and you both have tears streaming down your faces by the time Seokjin calls a truce.

Just days later, you spread out a gingham blanket in the park. Seokjin makes up bullshit constellations, gives them horrific names and backstories, and revels in the sound of your infectious laughter. When your head feels too heavy to hold up, you lay back in the grass and try to keep your heart in your chest when Seokjin does the same, slender fingers searching out yours in the dark.

You want so badly to kiss him. Want to crash your mouths together and kiss him breathless, but you don’t.

On your third hangout, you cover each other in silly temporary tattoos and take too many selfies. Seokjin snorts at how dumb he looks in the filters and asks you to send him some, immediately setting a particularly couple-y shot as your contact photo.

And if you get butterflies when he posts one to his Instagram story? Well, that’s your business.

—

Seokjin gets the dumb idea that he’s going to teach you to skate.

Which is not only dumb because it’s impossible, but because you’re sure your skeletal system is probably insured for millions of dollars, knowing your parents. You can’t do any of your clinical rotations with broken bones—instant dismissal—and Seokjin knows this, but he’s annoyingly persistent and assures you you’ll be fine, so you relent because you trust him, despite all odds.

Physically, you are fine. Seokjin holds onto your waist and doesn’t let you fall, which is about all you can ask for when it comes to unwanted skateboarding lessons. Emotionally, though? Not so much. You’ve been close to Seokjin before. Enough to feel his body heat; enough to get goosebumps; enough to nearly become delirious with your want to taste him.

Normally that’s fine. But now, as he uses one hand to hold your waist and the other to hold your own hand, you can’t think of a single logical explanation for depriving yourself of more of this. Because he’s steady and warm, and sometimes you teeter and he grips tighter, causing your mind to wander and think about things it shouldn’t. You’re only human, and Seokjin is an otherworldly brand of handsome, so you don’t beat yourself up over it.

Still. It ignites something, that’s for sure, and if it’s anything like Seokjin himself, it won’t be easy to extinguish.

—

It’s by complete accident that you meet Jeongguk.

Well, that’s not entirely accurate. You’ve met him before, at some bougie function your parents dragged you to, but it was brief and forced and awkward. Jeongguk was weird back then. Still is, probably, judging from his entire… presence, now.

He’s dangling upside down from a tree branch when you meet him for the second time.

“Oh. Jeongguk. Hi?”

“Hi!” he says, smile brighter than the sun, and before you can ask him why he’s upside down in a tree there’s a massive camera in front of his face. “Are you here to see Jin?”

Here is a public sidewalk, but you don’t say that. Instead, you say, “I’m on my way home. Why are you in a tree?”

His response is nonverbal, just a finger point dead ahead of you. Some Brutalist architecture leftover from the ‘50s—a large set of stairs, public fountain, weird art sculpture, a small crowd. Doesn’t take long to learn what they’re there for: Seokjin grinds down the rail, lands perfectly, nearly skates into the street and gets whacked by a car. Everyone cheers.

Ah, that explains the camera, too. You vaguely recall your mother telling you the youngest Jeon went to school for filmmaking. She hadn’t sounded impressed. You wonder what she’d think if she knew he was your delinquent, skateboarder, fake boyfriend’s videographer. Probably something aneurysm-inducing.

“He’s so cool,” Jeongguk says, whimsical and dreamy in a way that sounds like he has framed photos of Seokjin on his walls. Maybe his picture in a heart frame, like that one meme. “You’re so lucky.” There’s definitely some jealousy there.

You raise an eyebrow. “You wanna date him instead?”

Jeongguk seems to mull it over. Doesn’t move from his spot in the tree, either, and you reckon he’s got another sixty seconds before you forcefully turn him right side up. “Nah. He seems really happy with you.”

“We’re not—” Together, your brain finishes, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. So you cough, hope Jeongguk hasn’t caught it, and say, “Yeah, we’re not doing too bad,” instead.

—

“I think you’re too far gone, personally.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. What does Hoseok know? Okay, he’s probably the smartest person you know, but that’s medicine. He hasn’t had a long-term partner in years, so yeah, what does Hoseok know.

“I am not,” you insist, because the majority of your time in this library has been spent defending the validity of your love life, not studying. “Hobi, look.” You sigh, snapping shut your notebook. A migraine is forming just thinking about the amount of reviewing you’re gonna have to do at home to make up for this. “Does it really matter, in the grand scheme of things? Life is fleeting and we’re all inconsequential, so I understand why you’re grilling me on this and not the MLE review book we paid for—”

He pulls a face. “It was fifty bucks! You’re acting like I’m out thousa—”

“Not the point!”

Hoseok squeezes his eyes shut. Pinches the bridge of his nose. Presses his fingers deep into his frontal sinus points. “I think it not being the point is the point, though? None of this was necessary. You could’ve just brought him to the wedding without having to pretend he’s your boyfriend.” You move to protest. He waves you off. “I know you wanted to get back at your parents. Your parents suck, so I get it, but don’t you think this is a little much?”

“How?”

Now it’s Hoseok’s turn to sigh. Put-upon, like he’s a beleaguered parent talking to a very idiotic child. “Uh, how about the fact that the two of you are going on actual dates, for one? And they’re definitely dates, so I don’t want to hear it. You took him to a Michelin star restaurant, quote-unquote, just because.”

“I was hungry!”

“Sure, okay, whatever you say.” He throws his hands up, clearly defeated, and it settles all wrong in your gut. Hoseok gets mad, sure, but never at you. Not even annoyed. “Have you given any thought at all, even considered just a teeny-tiny bit, that this might not be as fake as you think?”

“No,” you retort, petulant, because it is fake and you don’t need Hoseok to tell you that.

But Hoseok is smart, you know, so you were never going to get off easy. “I think you actually like him.”

“I know. You’ve said that a hundred times.”

“And I’ll say it a hundred and one, if I have to. Fuck, your head must be made of concrete.”

“Could be,” comes your breezy response. “Maybe that’s why my mother hates me.”

Hoseok chokes. Knocks his tea over and onto the MLE guide, which prompts a distressed shriek from him and a harsh shushing from the rest of the library.

So much for it only being fifty dollars.

—

Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi does leave his skate shop, which comes as a shock for a man who has severe cavedweller vibes.

“Hey, Instagram,” he says, smelling like actual cologne and laundry detergent instead of a dispensary as he stands behind you in line.

Yoongi is clearly talking to you. You know he’s talking to you, but you still pause, fragile like a deer caught in headlights, and look over your shoulder as if he could be talking to anyone else. “Uh. Hi?”

He squints. “You are Instagram girl, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I thought so, but you looked at me like I was the one who’s stupid so I wasn’t sure.”

Did he just call you stupid? “Did you just call me stupid?”

Yoongi shrugs. “What’s good here?” he asks, changing the subject. He definitely called you stupid.

“I—most things? I don’t know, I always just get a cold brew with oat milk.”

He grimaces. “Ew, gross. I’m gonna go grab a table. Grab me a medium iced americano.”

You order him a small, purely out of spite, and Yoongi doesn’t come to this coffee shop often enough to know the difference so he doesn’t even notice when you set it down in front of him. Takes all the satisfaction out of being petty. He must know. “Thanks,” he says, not looking up from his phone as he unwraps a straw and stabs his drink perfectly in the center.

“Sure. I’ll send you a Venmo request.”

“Oh, I don’t have Venmo.” He finally looks up. “Are you going to Jin’s thing?” All he receives in response is a blank stare. “The skate comp. Second qualifying round for the big championship event? Surely he’s told you about this.”

Let no man ever say you’re a bad liar. “Ah, yeah, of course! Med student brain. It’s all memorizing neural pathways and… stuff… and forgetting skate competitions.”

“Hm,” comes Yoongi’s response, and he quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t question you further.

(You bring it up to Seokjin later, expecting him to laugh it off, extend an invitation out of obligation. Instead, he laughs in a way that sounds fond. Says, “Yoongi beat me to it,” in a way that brings his scarlet red neck and ears to the forefront of your brain, and follows it up with, “I’d really love it if you came, but I understand how busy you must be right now,” that has your skin flushing all the same.

You’re loath to make promises, but sometimes they’re easy.)

Time is not on your side.

You barely make it to Seokjin’s second competition. Barely have your ass in the bleachers, hairline dotted with sweat and anxiety coursing through you, before he’s dropping into the bowl for his first run.

He’d mentioned it offhand. Told you it wasn’t a big deal if you couldn’t make it, because he knew how busy you were with school and that you needed to study because exam season was relentless, but he’d looked so relieved when you joked that it wasn’t so easy to get rid of you, that you’d be cheering him on from the first row. That being anywhere else just wasn’t an option.

And that had… taken you aback. Watching him skate is a good enough distraction for all those thoughts. You don’t have to dwell on the whys: why the thought of sitting in your apartment, nose stuck in a book instead of being here, had been so unconscionable. Instead, you’re able to focus on him, which is almost worse. Because the way he looks—wind pushing his hair back off his forehead as he skates around, calf muscles flexing every time he kicks, shirt fabric darkening under a light sheen of sweat, smiling at kids and the countless people he knows—is a little overwhelming. You’re winded for two reasons.

It’s a beautiful thing, watching someone do something they’re passionate about. Seokjin especially, but you’re biased. You want only good things for him.

His first run finishes. He chews on his bottom lip as the judges huddle together. Numbers flash on the scoreboard. Good—great, even. You know what the stakes are: score high enough and he’ll advance to the championship. More sponsors will fall in line. Someone will present him with one of those comically large checks that he’ll probably spend on god-knows-what at Yoongi’s shop.

More skaters follow. Highs and lows. Seokjin watches them all, enraptured, just as happy for their successes as his own. Someone bails out right next to him, arms out to break their fall, making a sound an arm should never make, and Seokjin’s there right away. He’s good.

Except the universe doesn’t always reward goodness. His second run starts off well: smooth as butter, impressively technical. Seokjin is fluid when he skates. Makes it look easy, like you could hop on a board and do it just as well. You watch him, but you almost like watching everyone else watch him more: the wide eyes, the whistles under their breath, the nods of approval. Seokjin’s got all of it, truly thrives on the admiration. He’s good, he’s good, he’s good.

You know it’s coming. That trick he’d told you about—the one he’s never been able to land during a competition. The one that’s gnawing away at him. He’s going to try it, and you’re holding your breath as he kickflips, grinds his board along the rail, does some kind of dismount that looks absurd and impossible to your untrained eye.

Then he’s on the ground.

He’s still for a second. Huffs in frustration. Back on his board before you can blink.

Seokjin’s not a child, but you know it stings. You’re overwhelmed by the urge to comfort him, the way he’s done for you countless times, but you shouldn’t so you don’t. The two of you don’t talk until after, and by then it might not matter.

It isn’t until he’s about to drop in for his final run that he scans the crowd. You want to believe the look on his face when he spots you is relief, but it’s painted over in a nanosecond. He smiles, smug but content, and then he’s shoving his helmet back on his head, clapping someone on the back, and he’s off.

Maybe the universe does reward goodness, because everything goes right this time.

Seokjin lines up to attempt the trick again, because if he’s going to go out it’s going to be on his terms. Completely unshakeable, the kind of attitude that gets plastered on those bullshit inspirational posters about falling down nine times and getting up ten, and you wonder, briefly, if it’s stupid. A good score would be enough to get him through, but he wants to do this.

And he does.

Everyone around you erupts as soon as the trick is landed. Seokjin calls the run early—just a handful of seconds left, anyway—and his fellow competitors are on him immediately. Someone picks him up in a bear hug and spins him around, and the joy on his face is so pure, so unbridled, that you almost cry.

But the wait is torturous. His second run had gone so poorly and those in the top spots had done so well that it’ll be close, even with a gazelle flip under his belt. Nothing is certain, and the way you can barely bring yourself to look at the scoreboard is proof enough. Seokjin is good, and you want only good things for him, and you can barely look at the scoreboard but you can’t look away, either—

The roar of the crowd is deafening.

A freeze-frame moment. All around you, there are fists in the air, shrill yells of Seokjin’s name, maybe a chant, nothing but chaos. You can hardly hear yourself think, but you can see just fine, and what you see is Seokjin’s gaze locked on yours. The corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. A flicker of hesitation before he’s gracefully shrugging everyone off of him and making his way over to you, and then it’s just reflex. Here, you know what to do.

You barely flinch when he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in.

Everything is soft. Feels a bit like floating.

Seokjinnie: do you wanna come over later?

Seokjinnie: i can either cook or get takeout, your choice

The apartment is small and you love it because he kisses you at the door. Seokjin has lips you want to memorize, so you kiss him again as he pulls away. The two of you kiss for a long time: throughout the “tour,” which is just the large studio space and the bathroom, all over the kitchen as he finishes cooking, until he exaggeratedly pulls out your chair, until you have to shove food in your face to keep your mouth off of him.

Seokjin has the kind of lips that leave you questioning if it’s really this easy.

Because Hoseok had been right: this isn’t fake for you anymore. Hasn’t been for a while, if you’re being honest, and maybe before this would’ve been a realization that scared you, but this doesn’t. Not when it’s Seokjin. So, yeah, maybe it is easy.

“Wait,” he says, chest heaving, gently pulling away from you. “Before I—wait, I have to talk to you about something.”

You just smile, hands still grazing over warm skin. “I think I already know.”

He stills. Takes a few seconds to reboot his brain before he’s smiling, laughing in a way that almost sounds unhinged. “God, yeah. Yeah, me too. But it’s—not that.”

“What, then?”

Immediately it’s clear this is not going to go well. Seokjin sighs, tilts his head back against the arm of the couch. His neck is gorgeous, littered with marks from you, but you gear up for a fight nonetheless. “The competition,” he says, as if that’s enough explanation. “The final round got pushed up.”

Your stomach drops. You know what’s coming, but you still ask, “To when?” because you’re a little bit masochistic. Because maybe you’re itching for the fight. Itching to say see, I told you so, I knew this was never going to work, because it’s always been fake. Itching to hurt, because you want what’s familiar when you hurt.

“Saturday.”

The day of your brother’s wedding. “Of course.” You snort; the universe loves a good dose of irony.

He sighs again. Looks so genuinely distressed that you find it hard to truly be upset. “I’m sorry. I just found out today.”

“It’s fine,” comes your instantly reply, auto-generated. Some silly, naive part of you refuses to spiral, stubbornly convinced you can salvage this. You’d found a date. That was the rule. You’ve done exactly what your parents asked of you, and you think with a rueful smile that they’ll probably be relieved when you show up alone.

But Seokjin’s not convinced. There’s still turmoil painted across his face—some silly, naive part of him clinging to something stubborn, too. “I’m going to ask you to be there.”

Yet another freeze-frame moment. The part in video games where it’s clear you have a very important choice to make, neon signs practically blinding, saying you better choose right, better not fuck it up. But you’re going to. You’re going to say no, and it’s going to hurt Seokjin, and you have about ten seconds to come to peace with that.

“I can’t.”

To his credit, Seokjin doesn’t look surprised, and you think that might be more painful. He’d expected nothing from you and you still let him down, so his snort is sardonic and derisive when he says, “Of course you can’t.”

And your tone is defensive and disbelieving when you retort, “What’s that supposed to mean? What exactly do you expect me to do here?”

“Nothing,” he says. “I didn’t expect you to do anything, I’d foolishly hoped you’d say yes.”

Your jaw drops. Snaps shut when you swallow around the lump in your throat, because you’re not going to cry at not living up to another set of invisible expectations. “It’s my brother’s wedding, Seokjin. It’s not some small thing I can blow off.”

“Is that it?” he challenges, eyebrow quirked, expression bemused. “Or do you not want to lose your precious little trust fund?”

“Are you serious? Of course I don’t want to lose it, but I—”

“You don’t even like your brother,” he continues, giving you absolutely no reprieve. No chance to catch up, catch your breath. “You don’t even like your family, but I guess you like their money. Nothing was ever gonna be more important than that, huh?”

“That’s not fair, Seokjin.”

He hums; knows you’re right. Doesn’t try to get in anymore jabs, but he looks broken. “I don’t think this has been fake for either of us for a long time. It was stupid to think you’d go against your family on this, but I thought maybe, for me—”

“Again, that’s not fair.”

“I know it isn’t fair,” he shoots back. “I know that. I just…” He rubs his hands over his face. “I can’t skip this, and you’re not willing to skip yours, so I don’t—I don’t know what to do.”

“I can just go alone,” you say, because it seems simple. “I already did what they asked, so I can just go alone. It’s fine.”

“It’s not like that for me.”

You’re stunned into silence. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s irrational, but it’s… the principle. For me. I’m never going to match up, you know? I’m never going to be from your world. I can make all the money in the world doing what I do and I’ll still never come close. So I had this stupid thought in my head, like, if she comes then it’s real for her, too. It means something. If she’s there, we can figure it out.”

“And that’s the only way? It’s only real if I do this one thing? Doesn’t matter how we feel?” You laugh, exasperated, and you’re up and halfway to the door. “That’s bullshit, Seokjin. How am I supposed to live up to these expectations you’ve got of me if you never tell me what the fuck they are? You know, that’s—this is exactly what my family does, and you—you know that, what the fuck.”

“Hey, no—”

“I can’t belie—” Things go all glassy. Crystalline. You need to get out of here. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. I’m sorry.”

“Wait—”

You press harshly into your eyes. You’re not going to cry over this. “Good luck, Seokjin.”

[THE CHOICE]

Things come full circle during another two a.m. crisis.

You’d stared at the ceiling. Scrolled mindlessly through your phone. Ignored Seokjin’s texts and thought about texting Hobi but decided it wouldn’t be fair and instead went cross-eyed watching some questionable late night paid program. Tried to disregard the crippling weight on your chest. Couldn’t. Thought about what Namjoon might do, because he seems well-versed in these sorts of crises, and looked up Sartre quotes on the internet. Got as far as one and quit, both because it hit too close to home and because all you can think about is your last two a.m. crisis.

Seokjin’s voice had been so soft. It wouldn’t have that same tenderness if you called him now and that stings, knowing you had a good thing, something velvet, and you let it go.

And still you think about Namjoon, about the ethics of conservation: when to preserve and when to let die. Does preservation ensure survival, or does it stave off the inevitable? It all gives you a headache, because nothing is guaranteed but that doesn’t mean you don’t try.

Jimin goes to Milan. Taehyung posts a selfie looking sad and beautiful on some balcony in Paris. You don’t want to be like them, doing some perpetual song and dance. Resisting an obvious thing.

Your brother answers on the second ring.

“Hello?” Groggy and confused. A voice you’ve heard a million times that still feels indistinguishable from a stranger’s.

“I can’t come to your wedding.”

A moment of silence, both literally and for your trust fund. “Uh, okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you rush out, because it feels important to say even if you don’t necessarily feel sorry. “I, uh—I am sorry, because I like your fiancée and I know this is probably a huge inconvenience considering your wedding is in a few hours, but I can’t—”

There’s some rustling. You don’t think you’ve ever talked to your brother in the middle of the night before. “It’s really fine.” He yawns. “This couldn’t wait ‘til the morning, though?”

“Not really.”

“Alright. Why do you sound like you’re about to have a panic attack?”

A lightbulb moment: he doesn’t know. “I am. You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“That Mom and Dad threatened to cut me off if I didn’t show up at your wedding with a date.”

More silence. Then, slowly, the trickle of laughter. Just a quiet snort at first, and you’re a little confused, wonder if you should be laughing too, if he’s laughing at you, and then it compounds until he’s nearly in hysterics. “Oh my god.” He’s almost shrieking. “Holy shit. That’s why you brought that guy to dinner, isn’t it? The one they hated?” It’s the first time you’ve heard him sound like this.

“Yeah.”

“That’s fucking hilarious. Fair play.” You wonder why you’ve spent two-plus decades hating this man on the other end of the line. “Okay, then. Why can’t you make it?”

You talk until you’re hoarse: about the competition, the fake relationship that hasn’t been all that fake for weeks, about the trust fund and growing up under the weight of your family’s money and expectations and always coming in third behind societal ass-kissing and your brother. You’re not looking for an apology but you get one anyway. A heart-to-heart in a moment that’s not entirely built for one, because the sun is coming up and your brother is still getting married in a few hours even if you won’t be there to witness it.

“All right, I really gotta go, but listen: I’ll talk to them, okay? And I’m rooting for you. Maybe in a few weeks you and Seokjin can come over for dinner, if it all works out.”

“Yeah, sure.” You agree readily, and it’s nice to have someone that shares your name in your corner. “I’ll make sure he behaves.” Your smile drops, chest cracked in half. “If it works out.”

Your brother says goodnight and wishes you well. Hangs up, and the silence is deafening and consolatory. You think about the Sartre quote again: Freedom is what you do with what's been done to you.

Whatever happens, you think you’ll do just fine when it’s on your own terms.

Perhaps naively, you expected the day of your brother’s wedding—and subsequently Seokjin’s competition—to be gloomy. Of course, the weather is perfect. Mid-70s, light breeze, cloudless blue sky. When you’re wounded everything feels like an attack, so maybe before it would’ve felt like the universe was mocking you, saying look how beautiful and intact the world is when you’re falling apart, but you see something else.

You’d done a lot of thinking. Soul-searching and introspection and all those uncomfortable, vulnerable things you and Seokjin had talked about before, and you’ve made it to the other side, so a cloudless blue sky on a beautiful afternoon doesn’t feel like an attack. What you see is clarity being reflected back at you.

But it still takes a lot of courage. Instead of putting on a stunning, designer dress and painting on a smile to pacify your family and anyone else important enough to be granted entry, you’re pulling on normal clothes and normal shoes. It doesn’t matter if your hair and makeup are done. Everything feels wrong for a moment, like you’re forgetting something important, and you suppose that’s normal. This is arguably the biggest and most consequential decision you’ve made thus far in your life. No wonder you’re out of sorts.

Normally, this is where you’d compartmentalize. Tuck all that discomfort away for later: a problem for Future You. But that had been your go-to for years, and it did nothing but turn you into an emotionally constipated mess, so you’re done with that—trying to be done with that. Which is fine, because you don’t have a plan, not really, but sometimes it’s enough to simply show up, so that’s what you’re going to do.

Rejection is likely. You’re smart enough to know that, and you’re mature enough to accept it, if it comes down to it. But you don’t want Seokjin to feel rejected. Not again. That’s more important. So you’re going to show up, heart on your sleeve, and if he rejects you, fine, but you’re going to be there. And you’re going to cheer when he wins, even if your voice is drowned out.

Another packed event. It helps to feel anonymous when your sympathetic nervous system is working overtime like this. You’re trembling by the time you find a spot—a little out of the way, no room left on the bleachers. Seokjin probably won’t see you here, wouldn’t think to look, and it’s okay. You’re here for him but you’re here for yourself, too. Just to prove you can. Just to prove that you’re still human.

It all goes by in a blur. The skaters you don’t recognize, some you do. Scores that are both meaningful and meaningless until they aren’t. Seokjin’s name gets called and your stomach drops, but it’s okay. You see Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jeongguk, all nervous energy and bit fingernails and cautious smiles. They don’t see you, but it’s okay.

Two runs happen in a nanosecond. Seokjin holds steady in third. The guy sitting in first falls on his final run, and it’s best of three so you’re not breathing easy yet but your fingers start tingling with anticipation. The guy in second does well but nothing good enough to improve his score. Your phone’s blowing up in your pocket. Presumably your brother’s told your parents by now, and you can wait just a little longer to get cut off. What’s in front of you is more important, it is, and you know it when—

Call it divine intervention, but Seokjin looks up just as he’s about to drop into the bowl. Looks right at you, and the tingle spreads from your fingers all over. Another freeze-frame moment; the two of you are getting good at this.

He smiles. He wins.

Feels a bit like falling in love.

As always, thank you for reading! My inbox is always open if you’d like to leave feedback. I’d love to hear your thoughts! ❤

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