#jin fluff

You shuffle back on the sofa, cozying into the pillows behind you, ready to aimlessly scroll on your phone for a while.

A sudden loud thump, followed by a hissing sound and cursing makes you almost drop your cup. God damn, you almost spilt the matcha on yourself and the couch. The noise undoubtedly comes from your next-door neighbor. You would have strangled Jin had he made you soil your new cushions.

He was actually the one to put you on to the strawberry matcha. Jin’s always in for a fruity treat, never one to care about being judged for his ‘girly’ drink choices. Just yesterday he knocked on your door, as you were getting ready to go out with some girlfriends, to borrow some of your strawberry mush. With a pout and a big sigh too, as if he’d die weren’t you to provide him with the missing ingredient for his matcha. Jin is big on dramatics, that’s also why hanging out with him is always a fun time. You think he might actually implode if he doesn’t do anything dumb for a few minutes.

So, what the hell is he doing now, causing all this ruckus on a sunny Saturday afternoon?

Jin’s voice keeps thundering through your shared wall. “Fuck, fuck, shit, no!” you hear him yelling. Well, now you’re worried. Did he hurt himself?

You sigh and put your drink on the coffee table, already mourning the relaxing day you had planned to enjoy. With urgency in your step, you hurry out of your door, not even bothering to put on shoes. You know Jin never locks his door when he’s home, a habit you’ve scolded him for multiple times. Now though, you are glad about it as you fling open his front door.

“Jin? Are you alright? What the fuck?” you call out.

“Kitchen!” he just yells in reply, and you scurry further into his apartment, following the loud clamor.

Your worry immediately dissolves into incredulous laughter when you spot Jin. He’s on his knees in front of the open cupboard under his sink. The pipe is spraying water all over him with the pressure of a fucking fire hose.

“What the hell did you do?” you ask him, still snickering. He looks up at you, obviously trying to glare at you for laughing at his misery, but you can tell that there’s a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. Even in the worst situations imaginable, Jin is always keeping his spirits high. You always admired this about him, his endless optimism.

“Grab my sweater from the table,” he pleads, kneeling there in the relentless spray of his sink pipes, in a white shirt and some light blue cotton boxers.

Not trying to draw out his troubles, you move to take the hoodie that’s slung over the back of one of the dining chairs. Turning back to Jin, he waves you down to the floor next to him. You crouch and put the sweater towards the leaking pipe, trying to stop the fountain of water. The fucking cold water you realize as the stream hits you, immediately soaking your clothes. You shriek and now it’s Jin who’s laughing.

“The drain was blocked, I just tried to check what the problem was,” he chuckles while wiping his wet hair out of his face with the back of his hand.

“Did you empty the coffee grounds in the sink again?” you immediately accuse him. “I’ve told you not to do that!” This is not the first time his kitchen sink is mysteriously clogged. 

“I might have,” he admits with a sheepish smile. You snort and lean towards him to nudge him with your shoulder, hands occupied trying to unsuccessfully stop the water from leaking. You are basically sitting in a puddle by now and the hoodie around the pipe is already soaked through as well.

Jin is now scrambling to get up from the floor, moving to finally turn off the kitchen’s water supply. You slump your shoulders in defeat, feeling useless as you cover the leak with the dripping sweater, but you’re huffing out a laugh while doing so. This is not how you imagined - or hoped - your weekend to go.

Suddenly, the water stops flowing and you sit back on your heels with a relieved sigh.

You hear footsteps and when you turn, Jin is standing in the kitchen door, scratching his neck. Now that the chaos has come to a stop, you finally look at him properly for the first time. He’s just standing there, water dripping off his body. Your eyes start to wander further down, from the dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead, to his chest, where the white t-shirt is clinging to him, at this point completely see through from the involuntary shower. Damn, when did Jin start working out for his body to look like this? Absent-mindedly, you start nibbling on your bottom lip as your gaze lands on his very defined v-line, uncovered as the shirt has ridden up a little, revealing the skin above his boxers. When your eyes roam even further down, you gulp, almost choking on your own saliva. You can basically see his whole dick through the wet fabric, calling it an outline would be the understatement of the year. And dear god, is that one hell of a dick. Fuck, get a grip. You try to snap yourself out of ogling Jin when you start to imagine what his cock would be like hard if it’s already this impressive soft.

You shake your head to get rid of the thought and return your gaze to Jin’s face. 

The corner of his mouth is pulled up into a smirk and you can tell he caught you drooling over his body.

“Hey, my eyes are up here,” he pouts and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “At least take me on a date first, Jesus.” His fake frown only lasts a second - Jin was never good at keeping a straight face - before he chuckles. 

You know he’s not actually offended but you’re still embarrassed, even though he managed to draw a little giggle from you with his dumb comment. 

You drop your gaze to the puddle you’re kneeling in, mumbling more to yourself than him while doing so. 

“Well, why’d you have to walk in here all indecent and wet?”

“You’re one to talk.” His reply makes you lift your head to find his eyes, not immediately grasping what he’s getting at now. 

And, oh. He’s staring right back at you. With his mouth slightly agape, he’s eyeing you up and down. A cold shiver runs down your spine and suddenly you are very aware of what you are wearing. A white flowy dress. Which is not so flowy anymore in its wet state - it’s clinging to your curves instead now.  Why, of all days, did you have to wear white today? With horror, you remember that you are also not wearing a bra. You look down to your tits and find your nipples sticking straight out through the translucent fabric, hardened from the cold. A bead of water is currently running down between your breasts and Jin's gaze is unabashedly following it. 

With heat spreading up from your neck to your cheeks, you clumsily get up from your kneeling position. When you lock eyes with Jin for a moment, the tip of his tongue slips out and licks a droplet of water from his lip that’s dripped off his hair. You feel a familiar tightening in your abdomen and look away in shame, mortified by the fact that all it took for you to be turned on by your neighbor of 8 months was a leaking pipe. Maybe you should have listened to your friends and downloaded a dating app after your last relationship because this is ridiculous. 

“Um, you should probably mop up this mess,” you mutter as you get up and try to move past Jin, your head lowered, eyes trained towards the floor. Well, he definitely should, because after just three steps, you slip in the puddle on the tiles and stumble until arms wrap around you and keep you from falling on your ass.

“You okay?” you hear Jin’s soft voice close to your ear. When the adrenaline of the almost-fall wears off, you find yourself pressed against him, his arms around your back holding you close.

Your breasts are squished against Jin’s chest and one of his legs ended up being wedged between yours. His heartbeat is synced to yours, going fast and hard.

“Yeah,” you breathe out with your forehead resting against his shoulder. “I’m fine.” Neither you nor Jin make any effort to move. It’s as if time has frozen and you’re stuck in his embrace, turning your cold and clammy bodies warm again.

His breath is fanning over the side of your face with each exhale and when you finally turn your head up to face Jin, he is, once again, already looking at you. This time, a shy smile is painted across his face. An unusual sight for you, but to be fair, the whole situation is new territory. Yes, you’ve hugged before, but only quickly and mostly in greeting or to say goodbye. You’ve never been flush against his body without an inch of space between you. You are very aware of the thigh between your legs too, applying slight pressure to your groin. It’s making your stomach flutter with each tiny movement of his leg as you’re standing there, holding on to each other. Consciously fighting the urge to rut against his thigh, you blink up at him through your lashes as one of his hands moves from your lower back up to your face and he pushes your hair behind your ear.

“You’re pretty when you’re flustered,” he whispers, his fingers still softly resting against your jaw. You could swear his leg moves against you with more intent as you feel your cheeks heat up at his words. Feeling shy, you nuzzle your face into the space where his shoulder meets his neck.

Not letting you evade his eyes, he gently lifts your head up again, cupping your face.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly, looking down at you.

All you manage is a nod.

When he bends down and his lips meet yours, the fluttering in your stomach intensifies and you sigh against him. Jin is softly slotting your lips together, the pads of his fingers caressing your cheek. He’s humming when you catch his bottom lip between your teeth and tug carefully. His tongue slips out and traces your lips, before licking into your mouth to meet the tip of your own tongue. It’s a sweet kiss, unhurried, but it has you in a frenzy nonetheless. 

Your hands are holding on to Jin’s sides when his own palm moves to the back of your neck and the arm around your waist pulls you against him harder. You unintentionally rub over his thigh with your crotch when he presses you to him and you whimper into the kiss, surprised by the sensation. Your reaction has an obvious effect on Jin as he immediately licks into you with more urgency. His digits slowly wander down from your back to the curve of your ass. He doesn’t quite squeeze but firmly rests his hand there with splayed fingers.

At this point, you can feel Jin all over your body. He’s pressed into all your sensitive parts and your body is about to go up in flames. You can’t hold back and your hips start moving on their own accord, seeking stimulation where you need it most. Your obvious excitement isn’t lost on him. You can feel his mouth twist into a grin and his hand snakes down further and under the moist fabric of your dress. He properly grips the flesh of your ass now as if to guide your movement. His dick is twitching against your right leg, slowly filling out.

That’s when Jin breaks the kiss and pulls away from you a little.

“Are you alright with this?” he asks you with slight uncertainty in his eyes.

The sight is making you giggle. It’s not like you were just humping his leg from how horny he’s got you by just making out.

“Am I giving you the impression I’m not?” you ask him grinning with your head cocked to the side.

He just huffs out a laugh and you get up on your toes to catch his mouth in another kiss while he’s kneading your ass cheeks with both of his hands now. After a moment of your mouths tangled and bodies rubbing against each other, he peels away, breathing heavily.

“Let’s move out of this mess,” he smiles and playfully slaps your butt to get you moving into the direction of his bedroom.

With your naked feet you carefully trudge through the water still all over the kitchen tiles, producing squelching sounds with each of your steps. It’s making you laugh for some reason, your head feels airy and you giggle like a teenager as Jin leads you through the apartment.

Once inside the bedroom, he grabs your hand and spins you around, so you are back in his arms. He walks you towards the bed while placing kisses all over your face, neck and shoulders. When the back of your legs hit the bedframe, you go to plop down on the mattress but Jin stops you by picking you up with his arms under your thighs. He turns around and sits down himself, placing you in his lap in the process.

With your knees on either side of Jin’s legs, you grind down immediately, making Jin groan and fall back. His fingers are pressing into your sides while you roll your hips, gliding over Jin’s now hard cock still confined by his boxers. You giggle again, elated by the fact that he’s already so unraveled too. 

You remember your wet dress in that moment and lift it up and over your head, leaving you in nothing but your panties. Your initial coyness has completely dissipated. Although this is far from a normal situation between you, you feel at ease with Jin. The fact that the horniness is mutual might have played a part in that.

“Fuck,” you hear him breathe out from under you and when you look down, you see that he’s propped up on his elbows, watching. With his eyes darkened by hunger, he comes back up and catches one of your nipples in his mouth. You lift up on your knees to give him better access. His tongue is flicking over your hardened nub and he sucks before releasing your tit with a plop to kiss up your neck again, now gently rolling your nipple between his fingers instead. You bite back a whimper, but apparently you’re not doing a good job as you hear Jin tease you from where he’s attached to you. 

“You’re gonna be all shy now? I'd love the feedback.”

You groan, but as his tongue runs over the skin of your throat and he latches on to mark you with bruises straight after, you erupt into goosebumps and finally let out a high-pitched whine. You are going crazy between the soft and harsh sensations, impatience gradually building up until you can’t take it anymore and you push Jin back down into the mattress.

Before you settle in his lap again, you grind down hard just once, eliciting a low moan, a stark contrast to his airy laugh from just a few minutes ago in the kitchen. Your fingers grip on to the moist fabric of his shirt and you slide it up until his stomach and chest are bare. You could already make out his abs through the white top earlier, but now, out in the open, the sight is making saliva gather in your mouth. With your gaze trained on his skin, your fingers splay across his torso, feeling the taught muscles beneath your touch. Your index finger traces from his abs to the line that’s leading from his side down into his boxers. It’s so fucking hot, you’ve always loved a good v-line and Jin’s is absolutely driving you insane currently.

His breath hitches when you don’t stop at the waistband of his underwear but instead start to peel it off of him while moving from his lap to get down on the ground between his legs. He lifts his hips up to help you pull the clingy fabric down his thighs until his dick slaps up against his stomach. Dear. God. That is the biggest cock you’ve seen in your life. Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear Jin chuckle at the sight of you drooling over his dick with your mouth agape.

“Before you ask - no, I don’t need a license for that.” 

He shuts right up though when you wrap your hand around his shaft, not wasting a second. You tug once before letting a big bead of spit drip down on the tip of his dick where it’s mixing with the precum already pooling there. You spread the slick around with your thumb, easing the glide of your palm when you start to slowly pump him. With each flick of your wrist Jin huffs out quiet hisses.

His dick looks so damn delicious between your fingers that you can’t resist leaning in and licking at the head. Jin’s thighs tense up when you suck the tip of his cock into your mouth. You let your tongue swirl through his slit before carefully lowering yourself down on his length. There’s no way you’re getting him all the way in. You get about halfway down his shaft before you feel your gag reflex kick in so you move back up. His hands are gripping the sheets as you bob your head up and down. Just as you’re getting a good rhythm going, his fingers tangle in your hair and he gently peels you off his cock.

You look up at him, a string of saliva still connecting your mouth to his dick and he mutters out curse words at the sight.

“Come back up here,” he directs you and takes your hand to help you up the bed. You move to straddle him again, but once you’re on top of him, he grabs your hips and rolls you off his body onto your back.

He is sitting back on his heels next to you, his eyes roaming over your body.

“Beautiful,” he whispers before leaning over you and catches your mouth in a kiss. While his tongue is gliding against yours, he comes up on top of you, one knee between your spread legs and one of his hands finds its way between your thighs. His fingertips are trailing the seams of your panties, just ghosting over the soft skin where your pussy meets your inner thighs. You whine against his lips, you can’t take the teasing touches.

“P-Please,” you stutter.

“Hm?” he hums into another kiss, his fingers still not where you need them.

“Jin, please,” you almost beg. You can’t be arsed to think about how pathetic you sound; your composure has long crumbled to dust by now. “Touch me.” It comes out in nothing but a whisper, but it’s enough for Jin to finally comply.

His fingers press into your clothed pussy, the fabric is pushed in between your folds by the movement. Jin hums when he feels your arousal seeping through it. 

“Did I make you so wet or was it the sink?” he wonders while his fingers rub up and down your labia, feeling the slick that’s soaked through your panties. “You’re dripping.”

He shuffles back to remove your underwear, lifting your legs up to slide them off and discard them on the floor. He places a soft kiss on your calf before lowering your feet back to the mattress. The shirt still bunched up at his chest follows suit as he slips out of it and throws it to the side.

Jin pushes your legs up into a bent position and spreads them with his hands on your knees. He gazes at your exposed pussy with droopy lids and blown pupils. “I want to taste you so bad,” he exhales before his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “Can I?”

“Yes, please,” you mutter and rest your head on the mattress as he leans in closer to your core. Your hand finds the back of his head while he slips his arms under your legs to pull you towards his face. It sends sparks through your body when his soft lips finally make contact with your pussy. He buries his face in your heat, his nose brushing against your pubic mound as he immediately licks between your folds. His tongue drags from your entrance up to your clit, not quite focusing on it yet though. He’s savoring the taste of your arousal, eating you out as if you were the juiciest fruit he’s ever gotten his mouth on to. He moans into your body while he’s working his tongue. He’s not in a rush to leave his place between your thighs anytime soon it seems. All you can do is gasp each time he makes contact with your clit, as he keeps increasing the pressure before finally giving all his attention to your most sensitive spot. He’s switched to harder flicks now, dragging you close to the edge with each pass.

With one hand in his hair and the other gripping the blanket you’re lying on, the coil in your abdomen finally snaps and your legs press close around his head, trembling. Your voice comes out in a high-pitched shaky moan as your back arches off the bed. Jin doesn’t stop until you basically melt into a puddle under his mouth. He detaches from your pussy just as you start to get overstimulated and moves back up to your face, caging your head in with his arms. He kisses you swiftly, before lifting himself back up.

“See how sweet you taste?” he asks you, looking down at you fondly.

Heat rises up your face and you have to avert your eyes, but you still reach up to stroke his arm next to your head.

Your eyes fall to Jin’s hard cock twitching between your bodies and your pussy clenches around nothing.

“Need you inside me,” you whisper, not quite meeting his gaze.

“Okay,” he breathes against your neck, leaving another trail of kisses down to your tits. He flicks his tongue over both of your nipples before he sits back up on his heels.

One of his hands is caressing your thigh, the other wraps around his cock and strokes a couple times before he reaches for his nightstand and fishes out a condom.

XXL, you can make out on the foil. Well, shouldn’t be a surprise, but it still makes you giggle in excitement. You can’t wait to find out how he feels inside you. Your pussy throbs, just as impatient as you are, so you grab for his leg, trying to urge him to hurry up.

He rips the packet open with his teeth and rolls the rubber over his length before giving it another tug. His eyes are locked on where he lines his cock up with your entrance then and he curses under his breath as he slowly watches it sink into you.

Without any prep, you feel your pussy stretch around him with every inch entering you and you whimper. 

“Hurts?” he asks you when he notices your scrunched up face and halts his movement.

“A little,” you huff. “But in a good way. Keep going.”

Jin nods and you can tell he’s going slower than before, but he keeps pushing into you until he feels the resistance of your cervix and backs up an inch. He stills for a moment, looking into your eyes for any signs of discomfort. He pulls out a little before thrusting back in slowly. It’s a delicious drag against your inner walls as he goes in and out, the feeling eliciting moans from you each time. 

He is biting his lip while watching his cock disappear inside you with every pump until he finally picks up pace and he falls forwards, head lowered now as he grunts synced with his thrusts. 

You lock your hands behind his neck and your legs are wrapped around him, pulling him closer.

It doesn’t take long until his movements start to go a bit choppy and his breathing increases in speed. He sits back up again and places his hand on your lower abdomen. When your own palm follows his to your stomach, your eyes go wide. You can actually feel his cock bulging out from inside you. You press against it, making Jin lose his rhythm for a moment as he huffs out swear words again. You let your hand rest there, stunned by the new sensation. His thumb finds your clit and he rubs in tight circles that immediately make you clench around his cock. You didn’t realize how close to another orgasm you were already until his touch sends bolts of electricity through you.

You meet his thrusts with a lift of your ass, pressing yourself into his hand harder in the process as well. All you can feel is Jin, Jin, Jin. All over you, in you, even protruding from your insides. The room is filled with the nasty sounds of skin slapping against skin and your moans and grunts meddled together as he fucks into you. He’s going harder now, but you can tell he’s still trying to be careful. You wish he’d just let go. You could take it, you are sure.

“Gonna come,” he warns you before his hips start to stutter as his head shoots up with his eyes squeezed shut. His mouth hangs open as he releases inside you, every spurt of cum accompanied by loud, broken moans echoing through the room.

You look at him unraveling on top of you and the sight takes you over the edge too. With a gasp your pussy throbs, milking Jin through his own orgasm as you whimper, his thumb still brushing over your clit, dragging out your bliss. You throw your head back, panting, all your limbs tingling and twitching, just as Jin is on top of you, his orgasm slowly ebbing down. He finally collapses, his arms giving out, but he’s careful not to crush you, so he plops down next to you on his side. His chest is heaving as you turn to look at his blissed-out face. You reach out to stroke his cheek softly and he sighs into the touch.

He throws his arm around your middle after pulling off the condom to tie it and put it aside.

“Cuddle?” he asks you with a tired smile. 

“Yeah,” you let yourself melt into his embrace and turn to face him. You feel him go slack against you, sighing happily. Blissful exhaustion starts to wash over you and your eyes slowly blink shut. 

You doze off for a few minutes and when you open your eyes again, you nudge Jin’s shoulder with your forehead.

“Hey,” you wake him up. “We still have to deal with the mess in your kitchen.”

“Way to ruin the mood,” Jin pouts and then suddenly starts chuckling as if he’s just thought of something.

You turn your head up to raise an eyebrow at him before rolling onto your back.

“This is like the plot of the cheesiest porn ever,” he chortles. “Next time I’ll get stuck in the dryer I guess.”

You swat at him, but you can’t deny that he’s absolutely right. And you’d like a next time, you decide for yourself.

“You know what I’m in the mood for?” Jin suddenly asks, ripping you from your thoughts.

“What?” you ask him, smiling up at the ceiling.

“Strawberry matcha.” Jin sighs in content before he leans up on his elbow and looks down at your face. “You have some puree left?”

Masterlist

— tries to keep things light and funny before leaving because he doesn’t like making departures feel heavy, but you notice him getting softer in quieter moments

— cooks for you constantly before tour :( making your favorite meals, sneaking tastes from your plate, acting offended if you don’t praise him enough for it

— the type to randomly pull you into the kitchen while dinner’s cooking just to dance badly with you for thirty seconds before going back to stirring something

— absolutely takes a million selfies together before leaving and makes half of them ugly on purpose because your annoyed laugh is his favorite sound

— spends the night before departure laying beside you talking about nonsense until late because neither of you actually wants to sleep yet

— acts overly confident the morning he leaves like “don’t worry babe, i’ll survive somehow” but hugs you a little too long before walking out :(

during tour boyfriend!jin :(

— blows up your phone constantly :( selfies in waiting rooms, pictures of food, videos of him complaining dramatically about schedules

— facetimes you while eating room service in hotel beds because he hates eating alone, if you answer that is. 

— absolutely the type to hold the camera way too close to his face just to annoy you while you’re trying to talk seriously

— sends voice messages instead of texts when he’s tired. sleepy voice going “babyyyyy i miss home” followed immediately by him pretending he never said that

— misses domestic routines more than anything :( eating dinner together, hearing you moving around the apartment, arguing over what movie to watch at night

— definitely buys snacks for you in every country he visits because “you need to try this one”

— when he misses you badly after concerts he gets extra talkative :( suddenly telling you random stories from years ago just because hearing your laugh makes him feel less far away

— acts like he’s doing perfectly fine during tour until you ask if he misses you and then he gets all pouty like “obviously i do??? what kind of question is that”

— falls asleep on facetime more than once with the tv still running softly in the background

after tour boyfriend!jin :)

— the second he gets home the apartment feels loud again :) bags dropped at the door, him talking nonstop, dramatic complaints about tour food while clinging to you at the same time

— immediately checks the fridge when he gets home like he’s been starving for years even though he literally ate on the flight

— absolutely wraps himself around you while you cook just to steal bites before they’re finished

— domestic life after tour becomes his favorite thing again :) lazy breakfasts together, teasing you after grocery shopping, movie nights where he falls asleep halfway through

— gets softer late at night after coming home. laying beside you quietly with his hand tangled in yours while the apartment finally feels familiar again

— loves making you laugh after tour because hearing it in person again feels different than hearing it through phone speakers :)

— spends the first few days home following you around from room to room pretending he’s not doing it on purpose

— honestly looks happiest sitting beside you doing completely normal things :) eating takeout on the couch, washing dishes together, listening to you talk about your day while he watches you with the softest expression ever

Perm taglist : @kimmynammy @celliez @alphabetically-deranged @m4aimm @raceme2hell @bo-rimmy @mustanggbabyy @divakoo (comment or ask to be added)

Jin

‌At first he is like

‌Absolutely not

‌Does NOT want to date an idol

‌So much trouble and confusion and he is not willing to go through all that

‌Until he meets you

‌And then he suddenly is ready go go through every problem just for you

‌But the relationship would be 100% private though

‌He does comment some ?odd things sometimes

‌But the fandom is already so used to him saying only his intrusive thoughts

‌That sometimes people don't even try to understand it anymore

‌Even if he's laughing extra hard because he almost slipped up the entire truth and no one caught up

‌Except that, he is chill though

‌Is scarily good at keeping a secret

‌You could marry each other, have kids and move out of the continent and people would have no idea

‌Prefers to not talk too much about work either

‌He prefers the man he is when the camera is off

‌And, when none of you are at the stage, he wants to be with the version of you that is wearing mismatched socks and with eyebags

‌The unfiltered, imperfect and unwatched version of you

‌He doesn't enjoy the famous part of your relationship that much

‌But he does love to do lives talking about romance as if he were some love coach

‌And scolds the members all the time thinking he has the right to do so because he's dating you

‌And loves to see anonymous comments on his socials only to find out it was you under your 649237 alternative username

Suga

‌Ok so maybe he is not a big fan of dating someone from the same industry

‌He knows it better than anyone that this is harsh

‌He loves his job, but damn

‌Besides, media would be such a pain to deal with

‌He also wants some normalcy

‌So he actually wanted to date someone who was not famous at all

‌But life has its own wants and look where he's at, dating one of the biggest names in the industry

‌Yeah he didn't expect it either

‌But this plot twist led him to you, so he's not complaining

‌People are never gonna know this though

‌We barely know anything about him as it is

‌Bro disappeared from this world for two years even though he could use the phone in his military service

‌So he doesn't even bother telling people about his relationships

‌Suddenly you guys are like 90 years old and still together, but the media thinks yoongi has been single for his entire life

‌One thing that might give him away though is his songs

‌Partner privileges of dating one of the best songwriters in kpop

‌You have TONES of lovesongs written about you, for you

‌Maybe even one collab who knows

‌Find it hilarious when fans flirt with you

‌First, because some of the pick up lines are either horrible or too creative

‌Second, because sometimes you both reenact it at 3 am and it always make you laugh

‌Third, because it low-key boosts his ego and confidence when he sees someone trying to "win you over" but you are already in his arms

Jhope

‌I have absolutely no proof, but I think he would like the idea of dating someone from the same industry

‌It would be so much easier !!!

‌There are so few people that would actually understand him, his work and his way of living

‌But you do! Because it goes the same for you

‌The only bad side of this is the ✨internet✨

‌If your group is a newer one, he would like to keep the relationship private for your sake

‌He would be super protective and would hire so many people to make sure that no one would ever know about it

‌But! If your group is already well established and you dating wouldn't ruin your reputation...

‌I feel like he wouldn't bother telling people he's dating

‌He doesn't owe anyone anything

‌But if paparazzi ever found out anything, if info got leaked or something happened

‌Then he would confirm it like it's just another wednesday and that's it

‌Loves to go to your concerts

‌People always see him in your concerts. Always.

‌And the best part of dating an idol is tiktok

‌SO many edits

‌His phone's memory is full with edits of you

‌And he sometimes sends edits of himself to you, hoping that will make your for you show more of him to you

‌Like you don't get to see him every day lmao

Namjoon

‌I have no idea what he thinks about this

‌Maybe he doesn't either

‌It is a hard debate after all

‌It has pros (not having to hide, understanding each other, being able to help each other out)

‌It also has cons (being constantly supervised, never having privacy again, crazy "fans")

‌He can't decide whether it is or it isn't a good idea to date an idol

‌But he wants to figure it out, with you

‌So he does

‌And it's surprisingly easier than what he first imagined

‌Maybe he was overthinking it

‌Although he does feel a little paranoid about it from time to time

‌But, overall, it's not as bad as he thought it would be

‌With time, he gets even more confident

‌Starts releasing songs about you and gets a little too poetic when talking with fans

‌The moment he realises it's been years and you guys are still safe, he might even get a bit reckless

‌Now he basically is trying to get caught

‌Anyways

‌Might make the relationship public soon, if that's what you want as well

‌His favourite part of it is that someone finally understands him

‌He can get the point of view of an outsider, as you are not living exactly what his group is going through

‌But you relate just enough so your words are both comforting and practical

‌He feels like he hit the jackpot with you

‌He has never felt so seen

Jimin

‌He has no problem dating an idol

‌Maybe he would get a bit anxious about how the public would react

‌But his love for you overcomes any negative thought of his

‌So he is okay dating someone of your profession

‌However

‌He does prefer to not talk about the kpop world too much

‌He gets to just be a normal guy in love when he is with you

‌He can be Jimin from BTS every other second of his day

‌For now, he wants to just be Jimin with you

‌And as I said on these headcanons, I think he would like to keep the relationship private

‌People know you're dating and that's all they'll get

‌The world has no place in your relationship after all

‌No insta posts, no comments, no lives about that

‌People genuinely forget you guys are dating sometimes

‌All the interaction they see is you both smiling sometimes when you are promoting at the same time

‌He knows it's for the best, because it's the only way you both can have peace regarding it

‌But he also enjoys having something that is only his

‌The best thing of dating an idol is being the first one to listen to their songs

‌He ALWAYS listens your comeback before anyone else

‌And he couldn't love it more

‌If any of the boys are fans of yours, he will be so cocky

‌"The new songs are so good!! What's your favourite? Oh... I forgot you didn't listen to it yet. I guess you'll have to wait until the official release"

‌All of that meanwhile there is a smirk in his face

Taehyung

‌Maybe he was against dating an idol at first

‌For similar reasons as Suga

‌He has enough of this industry in his life yk 😭 he probably just wanted something more peaceful for his personal life

‌But he doesn't even try to fight it when he meets you

‌The moment he sees you, his old rule stops existing

‌I think I contradicted myself a few times in this blog when it comes to him

‌At the same time I do believe he would like to keep it private

‌(Simply because he loves you and only you, so the relationship consists of him and you only

‌He doesn't need the entire world watching)

‌I also do believe he would like to show you off tho

‌He is just a man in love after all

‌He is weak when it comes to you

‌Can you judge him for wanting everyone to know he is dating you?

‌He is fine with both scenarios lmao

‌So this one is completely up to you

‌As long as you're by his side, he is fine with everything

‌So so so supporting!!!

‌Your biggest fan

‌Loves to be backstage and give you reassuring words before you go to stage

‌And he loves the ending of his own concerts, the moment he can just hug you

‌Starts bringing you to his tours (if you're not working at the moment) and doesn't even ask for the company permission

‌Extremely good at hiding though, so don't worry about that

‌Spoils you like crazy, but his favourite moments are the "normal" ones

‌A walk in the park, a picnic, a very nice and suspiciously cheap restaurant...

‌Although he does love to take you to Paris

Jungkook

‌Lowkey loves that you are an idol as well because that means you guys can coexist in a lot of environment

‌Like "oh I have to work today, I gotta go to inkigayo" "oh really me too, let's go!!"

‌It's just so nice to see you in your environment

‌He feels like he performs better if he knows you're watching

‌And he !! Can !! See !! You !!

‌High fives you every time you guys see each other on the halls

‌And what about the public?

‌Look, we know him

‌He does not care anymore

‌If he's dating then he's dating you

‌And if people are hating? He calls it fandom cleanse

‌WILL talk about you on lives

‌WILL post videos and pictures with you (the amount of tiktok trends please)

‌WILL go on dates with you holding your hand with no masks nor caps on

‌And trust me when I say he does NOT care about other people. They can stay mad. He's dating you and he is proud

‌As I said before, he LOVES to make content with you

‌He is always doing 2AM lives with you

‌Every time he's filming a challenge, he's doing it with you

‌Somehow convinces the company to let you appear in a variety show together!!

‌And never again, that was extremely chaotic

‌Overall, you guys are together all the time

‌If media hated you both together at first, now the entire country is begging for you two to adopt them

‌Bro is so insistent that he somehow changed the country's mind

‌Also has all your photocards and is trying to convince you to start collecting his photocards

‌You pulled Jin once though and Jungkook refused to talk to him for three whole days

Masterlist | you'll probably like: their celebrity crush

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @butnotmontana @sheraayasherrecs @queenofdumbfuckery @lezleeferguson-120

What he did mind, however, was his ex-wife appearing in his doorway at 12:17 on a Saturday, voice already carrying the news that killed his appetite and, for a fleeting second, his will to keep breathing.

“You can’t just spring this on me.” Jin shoved the door shut harder than intended; the click echoed in the empty office.

“I’m not.” Hiah crossed her arms, bag thudding into the chair beside his mahogany desk. “The trip isn’t for another week. You have time to get organized.”

He wheezed a laugh that tasted bitter. “Get organi– You’re asking me to change my life.”

“I’m asking you to look after your daughter for a month.” she corrected, as if there was a difference.

The headache bloomed behind his eyes, hot and familiar. They’d stayed civil after the divorce, too much shared history for real hatred, too much love once for indifference. Nabi lived with Hiah during the week, and her weekends stayed with him. It worked. Mostly. Hiah’s family company gave her the kind of flexibility that his own CEO role never would.

“Unless you’d prefer I take her with me.” her sigh was tired; she’d known this conversation was coming.

“Then I wouldn’t see her for a month.” Jin’s voice flattened.

“What do you want me to do, Seokjin? Skip a critical work trip? You know I don’t have a choice.” she pointed out in return.

“What about what’s-his-name?”

Jin didn’t like the new boyfriend, he was too young, too idle, sugar-baby-turned-partner, but the man was kind to Nabi. Still. The thought of him alone with his daughter still twisted something protective in Seokjin’s chest.

The woman replied way too easily: “He’s coming with me.”

“Of course he is.” Seokjin scoffed, the sound scraping his dry throat.

“Don’t be like that. I didn’t come for permission. I’m letting you know I’ll be gone for a month.” Hiah’s tone made it sound like Seokjin didn’t have an actual choice at all. “You can keep Nabi, or she’s coming with me. Decide.”

Seokjing had no real choice here, so he nodded once, jaw tight. He’d make it work. Rearrange meetings. Be home more. Somehow.

Seokjin walked Hiah out of his office, leading her to the elevator without saying another word. The whole floor was pretty empty, it was a Saturday afterall, which is why his ex-wife knew it would be okay to come over today. 

After waving his ex off with a tired smile, Seokjin returned to his office to find Namjoon and Yoongi already waiting for him there. One of them sported a frown –might have been the youngest– and the other had a grin plastered on his face –might have been the oldest–.

“What did the witch want?” Namjoon asked as soon as Seokjin closed the door to give them a resemblance of privacy. 

The three of them had been friends well before they were ever co-workers, so the two men knew all that involved Hiah and their failed relationship. 

“She’s going to America for a month with her new boy toy and calling it work.” Seokjin crossed to his desk, stomach cramping from skipped food, head still throbbing. 

“Oof, that’s rough.” Yoongi scoffed. “She taking Nabi?” 

Seokjin shook his head, sinking into his chair. The leather creaked under him. “Nabi is staying with me, so that’s good.” 

“Then why the long face?” Yoongi asked, even if he already knew the answer to that question. 

“I’m barely home during the week, how am I going to look after her?” Seokjin ran a hand through his raven hair, slouching against his chair in a way he’d never allow anyone else to see. 

“Don’t you have a housekeeper that’s there every day?” Namjoon questioned, leaning back against his own chair. 

“Yeah, but Mrs. Bak is old. She can’t keep up with an almost two year old and take care of the house at the same time.” Seokjin’s head fell back, staring at the bright white ceiling. 

“Doesn’t Nabi have a hot sitter already? She’s young, looks to be in good shape.” the wiggle in Yoongi’s eyebrows made Seokjin regret ever letting his best friend meet you. 

“Ah yes, the hot babysitter. There, problem solved.” Namjoon nodded, sharing the feeling behind Yoongi’s sly smile. “More than one problem could be solved if you just–”

“Her name is Yn. And she’s only Nabi’s sitter during the weekends.” he interrupted, ears hot from the new direction of the subject. 

Yoongi shrugged. “So? Pay her more and have her there everyday.”

You had been working for him for the past six months, so it’s not like you were a total stranger. But then again, this wasn’t the deal you had when he first hired you. Seokjin knew you were taking classes, and the commute to and from his home every night, then going to university… Even if the pay was good, it would still be too much.

“So here’s a crazy idea.” Yoongi announced. “Why don’t you just ask her to live at your place for a month? Then she’d always be there to help you. And Nabi goes to a daycare right? Yn could still go to class then.”

In theory, that sounded like a perfect solution. Simple. Easy. 

But, to Seokjin, nothing was ever easy when it came to you. 

"I'm leaving, Yn." 

The kind voice of Mrs. Bak called out as you were in the living room with Nabi. The toddler was starting to grow sleepy from a full tummy, getting a little fussy, but you always tried keeping her awake in time for Mr. Kim to get home so he could be the one to tuck her in for the night.

It didn't always work, and it looked like today was just one of those days. 

"Let's say bye-bye to Mrs. Bak?" you asked the little girl, smiling as her little chubby hand opened and closed as she did what looked a lot like a little wave. 

You picked Nabi up from her play mat somewhat effortlessly, propping her on your hip so you could both walk the old lady to the door. 

"Mr. Kim must be coming home soon." Mrs. Bak told you as she pulled her personal bag over one shoulder. "There’s food for him in the fridge. Make sure he eats, please." 

"Of course. Have a good weekend, Mrs. Bak." you smiled at her, bouncing Nabi on your arm to get her to wave again. "Say bye-bye."

"Ba ba ba." Nabi babbled, twirling her little hand with a small giggle as you bounced her higher. 

"Bye-bye, sweet girls." 

You closed the entrance door, hearing the automatic lock slot into place. Nabi was still smiling when you brought her into the bathroom of her suite bedroom, where the bathtub was slowly filling up. Out of all the kids you ever babysat before, she was the only one who never cried during bath time, always enjoying being in the water. 

Closing the faucet when there was enough water for you to wash the little girl, you checked the temperature written on the fancy turtle shaped thermometer floating inside the tub. 

"Dada?" Nabi asked as you undressed her.

"Sorry, tooks, appa's not home yet."

Her lip wobbled, so you rushed her into the water before the tears could start, handing her the rubber duck and bright pink dolphin. She slapped at them happily, droplets flecking your cheek, giggles echoing off the tiles.

You knelt on the bath mat, sleeves pushed up, carefully washing her while she played. Nabi didn’t understand why her Appa was gone so much, only that she missed him. You felt it too, the ache of their limited time together, the weekends stitched together like rare moments rather than a constant.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, breaking you out of your solemn thoughts. Keeping one eye on Nabi, you fished it out to open the text thread:

Hobito: we’re on our way there rn, yall close?

Gguk: i’m waiting for noona to get here so we can go….

Jiminie: she’s still with the 🥵 dilf?

You: still at WORK 🤨

You: you can go ahead gguk I dunno how much longer I’ll have to stay here. I’ll just meet you guys at the bar. 

It was half past seven when your boss arrived home, thirty minutes after you were supposed to meet your friends for drinks at your favorite bar. Nabi was already out like a light, and you were ready to leave, just sitting on the couch with all of your things packed up when the front door opened.

And then Kim Seokjin walked in and every intention to leave evaporated.

Six months of Saturdays and Sundays, and you still weren’t used to him. The word on the street –as told by Mrs. Bak– was that Seokjin’s mother had been Miss Korea back in the day, and he had definitely inherited her genes. 

If he just had the looks, you might have a little more luck when it came to controlling your ever growing –and extremely forbidden– crush on the man. But on top of that, Seokjin was a good man, extremely kind, always treated you with nothing but gentleness, and a very dedicated father. He was a good seven years older than you, too. And you didn’t know why that mattered, but the deepest, darkest parts of you liked that extra fact. 

“Hi, Yn. I’m sorry I’m so late.” he greeted you with a soft, and extremely tired, smile. “How is she?” 

“Passed out.” you replied with a smile that matched his earnestness. “I tried keeping her awake for you, I’m sorry.” 

The man shook his head, letting his briefcase rest on the closest armchair, like he couldn’t be bothered to put it away right now. 

Seokjin had planned on coming home hours ago, in hopes of spending some quality time with his daughter, maybe talking to you for longer than rushed hellos and dragged goodbyes. But thanks to a system failure in his company, he had to stay longer in the office than he’d liked. 

And now his baby was already asleep, he was exhausted and you were clearly ready to leave. 

“I’m just going to see her real quick, okay?” he spoke with a small sigh, hesitating before adding: “I’d like to speak to you before you go, if you have five minutes to spare.” 

“Yeah, of course.” you nodded with that sweet smile you always had for him, no matter how hard your day had been. You liked playing it off as if his baby was an angel, and most times she was, but Nabi was still a toddler, nearing her terrible twos. And Seokjin noticed the pink marker stain on your new jeans, when it hadn’t been there this morning, along with the very wet spot on your shoulder, probably the result of an eventful bath time. 

Still, you never added any more pressure onto him, never complained. Never nagged him about the amount of extra hours you had to do while waiting for him to get home so you could go on your way. 

And that made it really hard for him to remain neutral when it came to you. To ignore how pretty he thought that damn smile was, how expressive your eyes were and, fuck, sometimes his tired brain ran away from him and made him think about you in other ways. 

Inappropriate ways. 

Ways he should not think about his kid’s babysitter. 

When Seokjin walked into Nabi’s bedroom, he was careful not to wake her. The room was dark, except for the moon shaped night light resting on her dresser. Seokjin leaned over her crib, watching his baby sleep soundly. She was the reason he worked so hard, so he could give her a life where nothing would ever be missing. 

But it still hurt him to think that maybe the only thing missing from it right now was him. 

Seokjin pulled her pink fuzzy blanket higher over her little body, whispering a small ‘sweet dreams’ before leaving the bedroom to meet you outside. 

He found you in the kitchen, pulling out a container of food from the fridge, bags abandoned on his couch and your coat left somewhere in the living room. Seokjin liked how comfortable you were inside his home, instead of being put off by the fact that you moved with more certainty than he had most days. 

“She’s still sleeping?” he heard you ask, answering you with a nod as he begged his brain to behave. “Good. Mrs. Bak left you some dinner, would you like me to heat it up?”

“I’m craving something fresher. Would you eat with me?” his lips were moving before he could stop himself, catching the small twitch of your eyebrows and the quicker blink of your eyes. “Unless you have plans, of course. Which I guess you do, it’s a saturday night after all–”

“No, no plans at all!” you shook your head, pausing his quick spilling of words. “How can I help?” 

“Can you make rice?” 

Your scoff brought a new smile to his lips. As you mumbled about your abilities in the kitchen, Seokjin started to gather the ingredients he needed for a quick bibimbap dish. His kitchen was big enough for the two of you to move around each other without bumping around, but you still did. 

Maybe he walked too close to you on his way to the stove, just so his arm could brush yours. 

And maybe you walked in front of him to grab a spoon, when there was a lot more space to pass behind him. 

It was during times like these that made him believe that maybe his inappropriate thoughts weren’t actually one sided.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Mr. Kim?”

You asked the man, trying to mask your nervousness. 

From the time he asked you to wait because he wanted to speak to you until now, at least a handful of scenarios had coursed through your brain. While you didn’t necessarily need this job to survive, you weren’t particularly interested in searching for a new one either; not to mention you had grown quite fond of Nabi to not be upset if you were about to be fired. 

You also didn’t think Seokjin would be cooking for you right now if letting you go was his intention. 

The man snorted a little laugh. “Please, I’m not that much older than you. I told you Jin is fine.”

You smiled sheepishly, because he had repeated many times not to call him by his last name. And you did try, but calling him by his nickname made you feel a little flustered. And you didn’t need anymore reasons to be blushing around him. 

The way he had pushed his sleeves to his elbows and undid the top two buttons of his light blue dress shirt was face-warming enough. 

“Hiah, my uh– Nabi’s eomma. She’s going out of town for a while. For a month.” the man told you as he fried sliced vegetables on a pan. “Nabi will be staying with me for the entirety of her trip, so I would need you to be here everyday. Not only on the weekends.” 

“I see.” you nodded slowly, knowing Nabi would love to spend that much time with her dad, but knowing it would definitely be a change for Seokjin’s routine.

“I understand it's not the original agreement we had, but I wouldn't want to find someone else to look after Nabi…” Jin turned to you then, forgetting the vegetables to hit you with his best pleading eyes. “And she likes you so much–” 

“You don’t have to convince me, Mr. Ki– Jin.” you reassured him, tilting your head. “I don’t mind the extra work days.”

You would have to move a few things around and would probably get behind on your studies, but this new deal would be just for a month… And you were mostly taking online classes this semester, so you could make your own schedule. You could make this work, if it meant making things easier for Nabi and her dad.

“Really? You’d be doing me a very big favor. You’ll get paid for this, of course, and you can take the weekends off. Hiah really just threw this on me, I don’t know what I would do if you didn’t agree.” Seokjin had a way of spilling phrase after phrase when he got nervous, which you thought was endearing and slightly funny. 

You waited for him to finish so you could ask: “Will the schedule remain the same?”

“Ah, well. So.” you watched as he changed the pans on the stove top so the vegetables could rest while the pieces of meat fried. “Unfortunately, I need to stay later in the office during the weekdays. I’ll try to change my schedule for the month, but I don’t know how that’s gonna work.”

You frowned, nibbling on your lip as a thought crossed your mind: “I live a little too far away from here, so I have to check the bus’ hours–” 

“Yeah, I thought about that too.” Seokjin turned his back, wide shoulders blocking your view, but you still saw the tips of his ears growing a shade darker. “I can prepare the guest bedroom for you. If you wouldn’t mind staying here for that period of time.” 

JULY 3RD | 15:19

"So let me see if I got it right." Hoseok was laying on your bed as if it belonged to him. "You're about to spend a whole month living at your boss' house?" 

"The man you've had a crush on ever since you met him." Jimin added, laying next to Hoseok. 

"Not that deep, guys. Mr. Kim needs my help, so why would I say no?" you shrugged, giving them your back to stare at, rather than letting them read your expression like an open picture book. 

It was the Sunday you were supposed to temporarily move into Kim Seokjin’s home and you were still packing your suitcase. Jimin and Hoseok had invited themselves over to help you, but all they were doing was putting ideas on your mind and hope in your heart. 

"See, babe? Mr. Kim needs her help." Jimin told Hobi with a wiggle of his eyebrows. 

You rolled your eyes, even if they couldn’t see it. "I'm never telling either of you shit ever again."

"Go easy on her, babe, she's still in denial." Hoseok told Jimin in return, the both of them giggling like the disgusting couple they were turning into. 

"I'm not in denial!" you said, too defensively for your own liking. As you moved around your room to pick up whatever you thought you might need, you continued: "Do I think Seokjin is very attractive? Yes I do. Do I have crush-like feelings for him? Sure. Do I think something will ever happen? Absolutely not. See? Not in denial."

"You wish something would happen, though." Jimin piped up, sitting on your mattress. "Your cousin is not here, you don't have to lie to us." 

"I'm going to work,” your sigh was exasperated. “I can't be thinking about any of this." 

"Look, all we're saying is you're both grown adults. As long as what you do doesn't affect his kid, you don't have to be so hard on yourself." Hobi reasoned. “The Yn I know goes for what she wants.” 

“What I want right now is to finish packing before he gets here.” 

You ran away from both boys when you walked into your bathroom to pick up your toiletries. Seokjin had told you he’d have the guest bedroom ready for you, and you knew it had its own bathroom, but you shouldn’t expect him to provide you with basic things like a toothbrush. Right?

Once you came back into your room, Jimin was nowhere to be seen. By the noise you could hear coming from the living room, Jeongguk was home now, which meant Jimin was most likely annoying him, or getting annoyed by him. 

Your best friend, however, stayed behind.

Hoseok was folding the clothes you had somewhat carelessly thrown into your small suitcase and he was doing a much better job of it. Suddenly half of the space was cleared out and you had more of it left. 

Hoseok lifted his head when you approached. "You're not gonna be held hostage, right?" 

"No, Hoba, I have my weekends off." you assured him. "We can still see each other during the week too, just gotta plan first." 

The man helped you zip up your bag and carried it to the living room, where his current-fling was playing video games with your cousin. As you changed your cotton shorts for denim jeans, your phone buzzed with a new notification.

Mr. Kim: We’re outside, you can come out whenever you’re ready!

You: Coming right out!

It was a Sunday, so Mrs. Bak wasn’t working, which meant Nabi would be with Seokjin and you were always really excited to see her. Which would explain the thump on your heart; it had nothing to do with her father waiting outside. At all. 

“Noona, if he does anything, you call me and I’ll fix it, okay?” Jeongguk said as he waited with you in the hallway, trying to look more menacing than he actually was. 

“Don’t worry, Gguk, I promise I’ll be alright.” you held back a small laugh. 

You squeezed your cousin into a hug before the elevator reached your floor. Jeongguk was only a few months younger than you, and you had grown up together so he felt more like a younger brother. Of course he was huge now, in height and muscles. 

“Text me later!” Hoseok’s voice was heard between squeals and TV noises. 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t fuck on my bed!” you warned, dead serious. “Byeee.” 

Jeongguk waved until the elevator’s door closed, and you held the little wave back until the last sliver of his grin disappeared behind the narrowing seam. 

The doors opened again a minute later, and the lobby smelled faintly like polished stone and someone’s expensive cologne, the air conditioning too cold against your arms after the warmth of the upper floors. Your shoes clicked across the glossy tile as you crossed toward the glass doors, and you caught your own reflection for a second, a flicker of nerves in your posture that you smoothed out before you could think too hard about it.

Outside, the heat hit you all at once again. It clung to your skin and pressed against your lungs, turning the air thick with exhaust and sun-baked concrete. The brightness made you squint, and you lifted a hand to shield your eyes while you scanned the street, blinking through the glare. It took a few seconds to find the car, parked across the way like it had been there countless times; dark paint throwing back sharp flashes of light whenever a bus rolled past. 

Seokjin stepped out and the sunlight made him look sharper around the edges, crisp shirt sleeves, watch glinting when he adjusted the keys in his hand. The Ray-Bans hid his eyes, which somehow made him harder to read and easier to stare at all at once. He looked like he belonged in a magazine spread about men who never sweated, even though the heat was brutal, even though you watched the faintest shine start at his temple the moment he paused to look at you. He was smiling already, easy and practiced, but there was something under it that didn’t feel like the version of him you got on weekends. Something tighter at the corners.

You felt it anyway. The small shift in the air when he was focused on you. The way your name seemed to take up space in his mouth even when he wasn’t saying it.

"Hi! Let me get that for you." the man was smiling, reaching for your suitcase, polite as ever.

"Oh, thank you!" your voice came out lighter than you meant it to. 

You forced your fingers to loosen, to let him take the weight without making a big deal out of it, but you still felt the brief brush of his hand against yours. It was nothing, you told yourself. It was a complete accident. Yet it was still enough to make you aware of the inside of your wrist for the next three seconds.

Seokjin lifted your bag like it weighed nothing, and you hated the way your brain catalogued it. The flex of his forearm, the clean efficiency of the motion, the fact that he didn’t fumble, didn’t hesitate.

For a second you hovered beside the vehicle, hand on the door, caught between instincts. Your job was Nabi, she was the whole reason for this change in your own routine, so your place was in the backseat with her. But this was Seokjin’s car, and Seokjin was driving, and there was something about sitting beside him that felt too much like a temptation for you to ignore.

You glanced through the backseat window, finding that the choice had already been made for you. The seat beside the baby chair was taken over completely, Nabi’s oversized diaper bag sprawled across it, straps tangled and a little plush toy clipped to the zipper swinging gently with the motion of the car settling.

Front seat it was.

You pulled the door open and slipped into the car, immediately twisting in your seat and reaching back without thinking, your attention snapping into that familiar, practical focus that always came with Nabi. Her cheeks were pink from the heat, fine hair doing that soft baby halo thing that never stayed where anyone put it, and she was half sunk into the padding of her car seat like it was the most natural throne in the world.

"Hi, tooks." you leaned back to poke at her half-covered tummy, fingertips gentle. Nabi squealed and curled, hands immediately going to her own belly. She’d been obsessed with her belly button lately, like it was a discovery she couldn’t believe belonged to her. "Ohhh look at your piggies! Appa's getting better with your hair."

A few stubborn strands still stuck up at the crown, but the little pigtails were actually holding, and that alone felt like an achievement.

"Dada!" she agreed with a sweet baby giggle, bouncing her pudgy legs hard enough to make the whole seat shift a fraction.

You laughed under your breath, soft and automatic. "They almost look symmetrical today."

The driver’s side door opened and closed, and the car dipped slightly with Seokjin’s weight. You didn’t look right away, which was ridiculous, because of course he was there. Of course he was sitting a few centimeters away. But you still felt the change in the space, the way the quiet settled differently once he was inside it.

Seokjin cleared his throat, and when you finally glanced forward, you caught the faintest bashfulness in the set of his mouth. It wasn’t dramatic, it was just there, in the way his hand went to the back of his neck for half a second before dropping, in the way he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel like he was checking that he was doing this correctly.

He reached toward the dashboard and picked up a laminated sheet, the edges catching the light. He held it out to you without quite looking at your face, like he was offering evidence that he had everything handled.

"That's Nabi's weekly schedule." he told you, and you could hear the pride he was trying to keep casual. "Her mother usually took her to these, but I already let them know you'd be the one to go with her for now."

You took it, doing a quick scan with your eyes. There were color-coded blocks. Little icons. Neat labels. The kind of organization that screamed overreaction.

“Okay.” you kept your tone professional as you nodded. 

You lowered your gaze to the page as he pulled away from the curb, the city sliding past the windows in bright, shimmering strips. You read through the schedule while Seokjin merged into traffic, the hum of the engine steady under your feet. Most days Nabi had daycare, which would be good. It meant a few hours where you could breathe, catch up on projects, work on your assignments without a toddler climbing your lap like a jungle gym. There was a baby swimming lesson once a week too, and you could already picture her in one of those tiny floaties, furious and delighted at the same time.

But then–

“Speech therapy?” you asked with a frown, eyes dropping back to the laminated schedule. “She’s not even two.”

Seokjin’s hands stayed steady on the wheel. He didn’t look at you, but you caught the tightness in his jaw, the way his gaze stayed fixed ahead as if the road required all of him.

“Her eomma thinks she should know more words by now,” he said, voice even, CEO-like, as if he was presenting a decision that had already been made. “And I agree.”

You turned in your seat to glance back at Nabi. She was strapped in, round cheeks, toes flexing in her little socks as she kicked at nothing. Her hands were busy with the strap across her chest, fingers exploring it like it was new every time.

“She knows words.” you said, softer now, because Nabi was right there, because it felt wrong to talk about her like she couldn’t hear you. “She asks for apple juice when she wants it.”

Seokjin exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh. “‘Apu joof’ is not knowing words.”

“Apu joof!” from the backseat, like she’d been waiting for her cue, Nabi chirped with little claps and an enthusiastic kick that thumped her heel against the car seat.

“See?” you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at you. 

Seokjin’s mouth twitched, the closest he got to an actual smile, and then it was gone. He kept his eyes on the road, shoulders still too straight, and you felt the line he was holding between being a father and being a man who was expected to be perfect at everything.

You swallowed the rest of what you wanted to say. You were torn between defending a tiny toddler and knowing your place as the babysitter, as the employee, as someone who didn’t get to have opinions unless asked.

Seokjin didn’t say anything else, either. The silence wasn’t harsh, but it was a boundary, and you read it the way you’d learned to read him.

So you let it go.

The city moved around you in a bright blur. Heat shimmered off the pavement. The air conditioner hummed cold against your arms. The laminated sheet stayed in your lap like something heavy even though it weighed almost nothing.

After a minute, Seokjin spoke again, as if the previous topic had been filed away. “You have a driver’s license, right?”

“I do, yeah–” you glanced up, and the storefront ahead made you pause. A familiar sign, white lettering on dark glass, a place you’d been too many times to count. Relief came quick and impulsive, like your body was looking for a safe detour out of the tension. “Oh, look. Are you hungry? There’s a great coffee shop just up ahead.”

For a beat, Seokjin didn’t respond. You could almost see him toggling through all the things he still needed to tell you; Hiah’s notes, the schedule, rules, expectations. He looked like a man who lived by lists. Stopping for coffee wasn’t on the list.

Then his eyes flicked toward the shop. Toward the open parking spot just up ahead. Toward you, for half a second behind the sunglasses, quick enough that you couldn’t read the look but long enough to feel it.

He signaled and pulled in.

The moment the car settled into the parking spot, the atmosphere shifted. Less motion, less distance, just the three of you in a contained space. Seokjin turned the engine off, and the sudden quiet made Nabi’s little noises feel louder, more present.

“I’ll get her.” he said, already unbuckling his seatbelt.

You watched him leave the car and go to his daughter, careful and practiced in a way that still looked slightly new on him, unfastening Nabi’s straps with a gentleness that didn’t match his earlier firmness. He lifted her out, and she went pliant against his shoulder for two seconds before she craned her neck, looking for you.

You stepped out into the heat, the sun immediately finding your skin again. The sidewalk outside the shop was warm under your shoes. A soft breeze carried the smell of baked sugar and coffee through the door every time someone went in or out.

You waited near the entrance while Seokjin locked the car, Nabi perched on his hip. The little wisps of hair he’d half managed to tame into pigtails brushed his cheek with every bounce she gave, and he didn’t even flinch. He just adjusted his hold and walked toward you, expression light like he hadn’t just gotten into a disagreement about speech therapy five minutes ago.

Inside, the café was cooler, dimmer. The air smelled like espresso and cinnamon and toasted dough, comforting enough that it softened something in your chest. The line moved slowly, people chatting in low voices, cups clinking behind the counter.

Seokjin stood beside you, Nabi in his arms, and you became absurdly aware of how close his shoulder was to yours. How his presence took up space in a way that made you want to step away and also… not.

“What’s good here?” he asked, glancing up at the menu like he’d never once had to choose something for himself without an assistant.

“Everything. But the cinnamon rolls are to die for.” you said. Then, because you couldn’t help it, because you wanted to break the stiffness that still lingered between you, you leaned in toward Nabi. You pointed at the toddler’s thighs, all soft baby roundness, and your voice dropped into the tone you always used with her. “Not as good as these rolls.”

You pretended to nibble at Nabi’s leg.

Nabi shrieked with laughter, squirming so hard Seokjin had to tighten his hold. She swatted at you with clumsy little hands, face scrunched in delighted outrage, and you leaned back just enough to let her “win.”

Then she lunged.

One second she was in Seokjin’s arms, the next she was throwing herself toward you like she’d decided this was the correct place to be. Seokjin’s body reacted, arms shifting instinctively, but he hesitated for a fraction too long like you weren’t supposed to be the one she reached for like that.

You didn’t hesitate, catching her easily, settling her against your chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. And Seokjin’s heart did a thing he refused to name. He blinked once, expression unchanged, but his hand stayed lifted for a beat as if it had forgotten what it was doing. Then he lowered it, clearing his throat.

“And what will you drink?” he asked, tone carefully neutral, like he hadn’t just watched his daughter choose you.

“Iced americano, please.”

You shifted Nabi on your hip, already reaching for your bag to grab your wallet, but your hands were full, Nabi’s fingers grabbing at your shirt collar like she owned you.

Seokjin moved faster, but not in a cutting way. More like he’d already decided you shouldn’t have to juggle a toddler and a wallet at the same time. His phone was out before you even found the zipper, thumb already on the payment app.

“Jin–” you started, reflex more than protest.

He finally looked at you then, just for a second, and there was a softness there that made your stomach dip. 

“It’s fine.” he said, quiet, almost reassuring. “I invited you into this. Let me take care of it.”

The words should have felt simple and practical, placing the orders at the cashier before you could protest any longer. 

Seokjin chose a table by the glass wall, sunlight spilling across the wood. A high chair sat nearby, abandoned by the previous family, and Nabi’s expression soured immediately at the sight of it, little mouth turning down like she’d been personally offended.

“She’s not going to like that.” you murmured.

 “Yeah,” he glanced at his daughter and his mouth quirked, the edge of a smile tugging through. “I know.”

You sat and helped Nabi into the high chair anyway, because routines mattered and you were good at this. Nabi fussed, twisting and reaching for you with grabby hands, whimpering the moment you stepped back.

“It’s okay, tooks.” you soothed automatically, and Seokjin hovered for half a second like he wanted to reach in and fix it with his own hands. You grabbed the toothpick holder from the table and slid it toward her, tapping it lightly like it was fascinating. “Look. What’s this?”

Nabi’s eyes locked onto it and curiosity won. She poked at it with one finger, then two, then tried to pick it up with both hands as the tension in your shoulders eased a little.

Seokjin let out a breath, gaze softening as he watched you. It wasn’t just gratitude. It was that quiet, helpless kind of admiration that made him look away for a second and then look back, like he didn’t know what to do with how easy you made taking care of a toddler seem.

“How do you know this place?” he asked once the three of you settled, voice lower now as the café noise wrapped around you.

You tilted your head toward the window. “You see that tattoo shop across the street?”

He followed your gesture. Across the road, the hair-salon-turned-tattoo-shop sat with its lights off, shutters down because it was Sunday. The sign above it read Bangtan Ink, bold letters against the facade.

“My best friend owns it.” you said.

“Oh.”

Seokjin nodded, still looking where you’d pointed, like he was filing the detail away on purpose. Bangtan Ink was Hoseok’s long life dream, the quaint little place in Myeongdong. You had worked there as a receptionist for a couple months before he found someone nice enough to take your place.

Any questions he might have asked were interrupted when the Moonlight waitress arrived at your table with your drinks and pastries.

Nabi had been fully entertained by the toothpick holder, shaking it with both hands and squealing whenever a toothpick slipped free and clattered back into the little container. Each time it happened she giggled like it was the funniest trick in the world, cheeks lifting, eyes going crescent-shaped with delight.

But the second your dessert hit the table, it was like a switch flipped. Her head snapped toward the plate. Her whole body leaned forward in her chair as she reached with grabby hands, fingers opening and closing with urgent insistence. A soft whine built in her throat, half-demand, half-plea.

“You want it?” you asked, already tearing off a small piece before she could get her hands on the whole thing. The pastry was warm, the cinnamon smell rising in a sweet cloud as you broke it apart. Nabi watched every movement like you were performing magic. “Can you say ‘cinnamon roll’?”

Her mouth opened. Her brows pinched with concentration. A sound came out that was more enthusiasm than language, a string of babbles with the rhythm of a sentence, ending in a proud little chirp as if she’d nailed it.

Seokjin couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out of him, breathy and surprised, like it had been sitting in his chest waiting for permission. 

“Alright.” he said, shaking his head once, amusement softening his face. “I see what you’re doing.”

“She’s almost two.” your smile sharpened, eyes bright with it. “She should know how to say it.”

Jin knew you were teasing him. He also knew you weren’t doing it to make him feel small. You were doing it the way you did everything with Nabi, coaxing and playful, turning pressure into a game she could win. And for some reason, instead of bristling, he felt something loosen in him.

Seokjin watched you offer the bite to Nabi, watched the way you waited, patient and unhurried, letting her take it at her own pace. The way you wiped the corner of her mouth with your thumb without making a fuss. The way you talked to her like she was a person, not a job.

Maybe it was because you treated his daughter with a kind of care that always caught him off guard, like you didn’t even realize how rare it was.

Or maybe it was purely you. The easy warmth you carried into a space, the lightness in your smile. The way you made his life feel less like an obligation he was failing and more like something he could actually live in, even if it was only for a few minutes at a café table with cinnamon in the air and his daughter’s laughter filling the space between you.

Seokjin looked at you, then at Nabi, and felt the thought settle with unsettling clarity.

He was in big trouble.

JULY 7TH | 21:48

Nabi had been sleeping for several hours now, which meant you were supposed to be resting. She had only woken up again forty minutes ago, but overall you learned very quickly that she was a heavy sleeper. Living in someone else’s house –even if temporarily– was a little weird, and you were still getting used to it. 

It’s been four days since you moved in last Sunday, and taking care of a toddler everyday was a lot more daunting than you ever thought it would be. There were a lot more tantrums when she didn’t want to get ready for daycare, a lot more tears when you knew she was most likely missing her mother, and a hell of a lot more running around. 

But there were also a lot more cuddles, a lot more giggles and an overload of cuteness. Plus, it meant you could eat Mrs. Bak’s food everyday and didn’t have to cook at all. The woman did the cleaning and the cooking –adult food and baby food–, so you only had to worry about the toddler. 

The guest bedroom Seokjin had prepared for you was a lot bigger than your own, but it felt strangely untouched, like a hotel room someone forgot to bring life into. The sheets were crisp, the bedside lamp perfectly centered, the closet empty except for extra hangers. You told yourself you’d bring something small next time you went home, a candle, a framed photo, even one of your throw blankets, anything that made it feel less like you were intruding in the space.

That thought stayed with you as you crossed the living room on your way to the kitchen, bare feet quiet against the floor, the apartment hushed in that late-night way where even the air felt softer. Nabi had gone down without a fight for once, and the silence still carried a faint echo of her giggles.

“Hey–”

“Oh, shit!” your whole body jumped, hands flying to your chest as you veered toward the nearest wall switch. Light flooded the room, sudden and bright, and your heartbeat kicked up hard enough to make you dizzy for a second.

Seokjin hissed under his breath and blinked against the brightness, one hand lifting instinctively to shield his eyes. You felt your cheeks warm immediately, a mix of embarrassment and the lingering shock of almost having your soul leave your body.

When your pulse finally stopped trying to escape your ribs, you looked at Seokjin properly, sitting on his couch.

Jin’s shirt was still buttoned, but the crispness was gone, fabric wrinkled from hours of wear. His dark navy tie hung undone around his neck, the knot loosened and tilted, like he’d given up halfway through pretending the day hadn’t gotten to him. His hair was messy, not in a styled way, just genuinely out of place.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” his voice came out tired but warm, and a small chuckle followed as he leaned his head back against the couch again.

“How long have you been there?” you asked quietly, still trying to shake off the adrenaline.

He shrugged, gaze drifting toward the dark window like time didn’t matter right now.

For the past four nights, Seokjin hadn’t come home before ten at night. He’d warned you he was rushing through his schedule so he could come home earlier in the following weeks, so he could actually be present with Nabi. You understood it in theory. In practice, it still made something twist in you every time you heard his key in the door when the apartment was already asleep.

You watched him for a second longer than you should have. His shoulders looked heavy in a way they didn’t during the day. His mouth was set, but not harsh, just worn down at the edges.

“Would you like a drink?” you kept your tone light, helpful, giving yourself something simple to do with your hands and your nerves.

“You're not here to work like that. Nabi is in bed, you should rest too.” he sounded tired, but not dismissive, like he meant it as care and not an order.

“I don’t mind Mr. Kim.” you shrugged, trying to make it feel casual, like your heart wasn’t still beating too fast.

His head straightened, and for a moment he looked like he was choosing his words carefully. Not because he didn’t trust you, but because he might not trust himself.

“Only if you drink with me. And if you stop calling me Mr. Kim.” the corner of his mouth lifted, small and quiet, the closest thing to a smile he’d offered so far.

“Okay, oppa.” the honorific left your tongue easier than it should have, sweet without you meaning it to be.

Seokjin didn’t say anything, but you felt his attention follow you as you crossed the living room. Your pajamas were simple, soft cotton with little red hearts scattered over them, the kind of set you’d wear without thinking twice in your own apartment. 

You reached up to the high cabinet where the alcohol was stored safely out of reach from toddler fingers, your fingertips brushing the wood before you found the handle. The glass bottles clinked softly when you moved them, a small sound that felt too sharp in the quiet.

“Stressful day?” you asked, glancing back at him as you set the chosen bottle down.

“Stressful week. Month. Year.” his voice was dry, but there was no bite in it, just exhaustion.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” you meant it, along with the softness around your words. 

You poured two small glasses, the amber catching the light. The smell of whiskey rose up warm and sharp as you carried them over, careful not to spill. Your hands looked too delicate around the weight of the glass.

Seokjin took his time sitting up. He accepted the drink, fingers brushing yours as you passed it, and the contact lasted half a second longer than necessary. He stared into the glass like it held the answers he’d been looking for. You could see the strain in the line of his brow, the way his shoulders stayed tense even here.

Then the words slipped out of him, rawer than you’d ever heard him.

“My friends think I should just get laid.” he said it like he was testing how it sounded in the room, and his eyes flicked to your face immediately after, as if bracing for impact.

Your feet halted mid-step as you moved to sit beside him, surprise tightening your throat. For a second you just stood there, the whiskey steady in your hands, the apartment too quiet.

“I shouldn’t speak like that. I’m sorry, it’s unprofessional.” his voice softened on the apology, sincere and a little frustrated with himself.

“My workday ended when Nabi went to sleep.”  you lowered yourself onto the couch with him, careful to leave a respectful space in between you. “It’s okay, I'm not a child.”

“I know.” he swallowed, gaze dropping to his glass. It came out low, almost too honest.

You took a slow sip, letting the burn give you something to focus on. The whiskey warmed your throat and settled in your chest, and you tried not to think about how aware you suddenly were of his breathing beside you.

“You’ve been divorced for a year right?” you asked after a beat, voice gentle, offering him an easier path back to safer conversation.

“Hm.” he nodded slightly, eyes still forward.

“How long has it been then?” you continued, and you felt your mouth go a little dry as you asked it. This was new territory, and you knew it. You could feel the line under your feet, thin and dangerous.

You weren’t blind to the way he sometimes watched you when he thought you weren’t looking. You weren’t innocent enough to pretend the soft, lingering touches were always accidental. There were moments that sat between you like questions neither of you knew how to ask out loud.

Seokjin took another sip, then let out a quiet chuckle that didn’t quite reach.

“If we’re really talking about this I might need another drink.” he cracked his neck, rolling it once, then again, as if trying to shake off the tension that lived in his shoulders lately.

Your heart thumped harder at the movement, at the faint glimpse of skin where his collar had loosened.

After what felt like too long, he spoke again:

“I haven’t been with anyone after my divorce.” he said it plainly, like he was ripping off a bandage, following the words with large gulps of the golden liquid.

“What? How?” the surprise escaped you before you could smooth it into something more polite.

“I work late, and I get Nabi on the weekends. Besides, even if I did find a date in between, I come with baggage.” the reasons came out practiced, like he’d been repeating them to himself for a long time, like he knew he was giving you excuses.

You didn’t take another sip of your own drink, just held the glass in both hands on your lap, feeling the cool rim under your fingers.

Seokjin looked at you over the edge of his glass. His eyes were steady now, and the directness of it made heat creep up your neck. You wanted to shift. You wanted to pull your legs closer. The living room felt warmer than it had a minute ago. The air conditioner hummed softly somewhere in the background. The city lights outside painted faint reflections across the glass wall. Nabi’s bedroom stayed silent down the hall.

You were painfully aware that the house had gone quiet hours ago. Nabi asleep, Mrs. Bak long gone, the hallway lights dimmed to soft amber. Just you and Jin on the wide sectional in the living room.

You shouldn’t have asked. You knew it the second the words left your mouth:

“You don’t have to find a new wife to feel good, oppa.” your voice came out softer than you meant, almost careful, like you were handing him an out. “You don’t like fucking casually?”

Seokjin’s breath hitched. Not loud, but you heard it: the tiny catch in his throat, the way his fingers flexed once around his glass before going still. He looked down at the dark gold swirl inside it, then lifted his eyes to yours. Guarded. Open. Something raw flickering behind the calm he usually wore.

“I’ve been with Hiah since school.” just fact, laid bare. “Can’t say I ever have.”

The silence that followed pressed against your eardrums. Heavy and warm. You realized you were holding your breath, chest tight, skin prickling where the air touched it. His gaze didn’t waver, and you wondered what he saw on your face.

Your pulse thumped loud in your ears, louder than the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen. The couch leather creaked when you shifted, just an inch, but it felt like the room noticed.

Hoseok’s voice cut through your head then, sharp and fond as if he were lounging on the armrest beside you: The Yn I know goes for what she wants.

And right now, god help you, what you wanted was Jin.

You set your glass on the coffee table, the clink sounding obscene in the quiet.

“You deserve to be taken care of too…” you said, words steady even though your hands weren’t. “I don’t have to be here just for Nabi.”

Jin didn’t miss the promise behind your words, he couldn't have. Not when his eyes darkened half a shade, not when his Adam’s apple slid on a slow swallow.

Your name left him soft, almost a sigh. “Yn.”

The sound of it in his mouth twisted something low in your belly. Fear spiked sharp behind your ribs: rejection incoming, this fragile thing about to shatter.

“Don’t talk like that.” it came out rougher than he probably meant, edged with a groan he couldn’t quite swallow nor hide.

“Why?” you asked, bolder now. Heart hammering so hard you were sure he could see it under your shirt.

“We shouldn’t.” his voice dropped lower. Eyes locked on yours, dark and unblinking, like he was trying to talk himself out of the gravity pulling him closer.

“I know.”

He said your name again and this time it wasn’t a warning, but a plea. A crack in the wall he’d built around himself for years.

You watched the exact second he gave in: the almost-imperceptible nod, the slow blink, the faint lift of his brows like he was asking ‘are you sure?’ and answering himself at the same time.

You moved before you could second-guess it. Reached for his glassfingers brushing his, warm and steady, and set it beside yours with a quiet clink. Then you were climbing over him, one knee planting on the cushion beside his thigh, the other swinging across until you settled in his lap.

Careful. Slow. Like approaching something wild that might bolt. And he let you.

Jin didn’t pull away, he didn’t push. Just exhaled shakily as your weight settled, thighs bracketing his hips, palms finding his shoulders for balance. The heat of him seeped through his shirt instantly, solid chest rising and falling too fast, the faint tremor in his hands where they hovered at your waist, not quite touching yet.

You weren’t used to being the one to start things like this, the bravery you were wearing felt paper-thin, nerves churning hot in your stomach.

“We don’t have to–” his voice cracked on the last word, like reading your hesitance as regret, as if you’d already changed your mind. His hands finally settled, light, tentative on your hips like he was afraid to hold on too hard.

“Please, oppa.” it came out smaller than you intended.

His thumbs flexed against the fabric of your shirt, like he was testing the reality of you there. Then his grip tightened just enough. Enough to say yes.

“Wanna kiss you.”

The confession slipped out when you caught his gaze lingering too long, too heavy on your mouth. You’d fantasized about those lips for months: plush, pink, always curved in that gentle half-smile when he thanked you for staying late. Now they parted slightly, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet them in a slow, unconscious sweep that felt like an invitation he hadn’t noticed.

Your hands were already braced on his shoulders, fingers curling into the crisp cotton of his shirt. You leaned in inch by inch, giving him every chance to pull back. He didn’t.

The first press of your lips was soft, tentative and almost polite. His breath rushed warm against your mouth, carrying the faint, dark strength of the whisky you’d both been nursing. Then his lips parted wider and yours followed, tongues brushing in a slow, exploratory glide. 

You tilted your head the opposite way, chasing the angle that let you sink deeper. Your chest brushed his; the hard plane of him against the softness of you. A tiny sound escaped your throat, half sigh, half moan, and he swallowed it, answering with a low, rumbling hum that vibrated through your ribs.

Jin’s fingers flexed on your hips, tentative at first, then firmer, like he was reminding himself he was allowed to hold you here. The pressure sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly. You stayed still for a heartbeat, letting the kiss stay languid, sensual, tasting him like you had all night. But then he tugged, subtle, but insistent, pulling your hips forward until your core settled more fully against the growing hardness beneath his slacks.

A groan tore from his throat, muffled against your mouth.

Your fingers slid into his hair, threading through the soft strands at his nape, tugging just enough to tilt his head back so you could kiss him deeper. You rolled your hips once and felt him twitch beneath you. Hard and ready. 

The realization hit like a spark: Kim Seokjin, your boss, the man who paid your salary, the father of the little girl you had just tucked in to sleep, was losing composure under you. The power of it made your head spin, dizzy and intoxicating.

You broke the kiss when your lungs burned, pulling back just enough to see his face. Pupils blown wide, dark and glassy. His lips were even redder now, swollen from your attention, parted on shallow breaths. Beautiful and ever and absolutely wrecked.

“I can feel you…” you whispered, voice small and shaky despite the boldness still thrumming through you. Another roll of your hips, harsher this time, grinding down deliberately, and his cock jerked against you through the layers of fabric. “Always wanted to–”

“Fuck.” the word punched out of him, rougher than you’d ever heard. His hands slid lower, cupping your ass with both palms, squeezing hard enough to lift you slightly before guiding you back down in a slow, controlled drag against him. “You’re driving me crazy.”

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, lips brushing skin, open-mouthed, hot, not quite a kiss but close enough to make you shiver. His breath fanned damp across your collarbone as his right hand slipped under the hem of your pajama top, fingers splaying across bare stomach, then higher, stopping just shy of your breast. Thumb brushing the underside, testing.

Every cell in him screamed conflict. This was wrong on every level he could name: you were too young, too bright, too much his employee. The same girl who smiled sweetly when Nabi babbled at her, who never complained about late nights. And here he was, thirty-something, divorced, supposed to be the responsible one, rutting up into you like he couldn’t stop himself. His cock throbbed painfully with every grind; his mind yelled at him to pull back, to apologize, to remember the power imbalance he held even now.

His body ignored it.

“Touch me, Jin.” your voice cracked on his name, soft and pleading.

He exhaled hard against your throat, then his hand moved. Jin cupped your breast fully. The weight of it filled his palm, soft and warm, nipple already peaked and dragging against his skin. He rolled it gently between thumb and forefinger, testing, and you arched into the touch with a whimper that shot straight to his groin.

He thrust up instinctively, hips chasing friction like he was twenty again and hadn’t touched anyone in years. The friction was maddening; too much fabric, not enough skin.

You giggled suddenly, breathless.

“Wrong one.” your voice was teasing, light despite the tremor in it. You pushed gently at his shoulders until he eased back, dazed eyes tracking your movements. “I have something to show you. Hope it’s not a deal breaker.”

He froze. “Mm?”

Then you hooked your fingers under the hem of your top and peeled it off in one smooth motion.

The air left his lungs in a sharp, audible rush.

Your skin glowed under living room lights, smooth, flawless, untouched by time in a way that made his chest ache with something like reverence and guilt all at once. Breasts round, perky, nipples tight from the cool air and his earlier attention. And on the left one: a delicate barbell piercing, two tiny pink heart-shaped gems glinting on either side of the small bud.

He stared. Mouth open. Brain short-circuiting.

“Holy fuck.” he breathed.

Your earlier words clicked into place. Hope it’s not a deal breaker.

Seokjin’s cock gave a hard, helpless twitch in his pants. He could’ve come right then, fully dressed, untouched beyond the grinding.

“That’s…” Jin swallowed, voice gravel-rough. “That’s sexy as fuck.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, dark, hungry, but still holding that last thread of restraint. One hand stayed on your hip, thumb stroking slow circles like he was anchoring himself. The other lifted, hesitant, reverent, until the pad of his thumb brushed the barbell. A tiny tug, barely there, and your back bowed, a soft gasp spilling from your lips.

He watched your face the whole time. Watched the way your lips parted, the way your pupils swallowed the color of your irises. Watched you react to him.

And something possessive and dark flickered in his chest.

You giggled again, soft, surprised, and so delighted when his reaction wasn’t shock or recoil but pure, unguarded hunger. Seokjin didn’t strike you as the type: polished suits, boardroom voice, the kind of man who probably thought body mods belonged to rebellious college kids. Yet here he was, eyes dark and glassy, thumbs already circling the tiny heart-shaped gems like they were something precious.

Both hands cupped your breasts now, warm palms cradling their weight. He flicked the barbell once, gentle and testing, and a sharp hiss escaped you, spine arching involuntarily. 

“Does it hurt?” his gaze snapped to your face, chocolate eyes searching.

“Only if you pull it, or bite it.” your voice came out breathy. You reached up, fingers sliding into his hair, pushing the messy strands back from his forehead. They were wilder now than when you’d found him alone in the living room, disheveled by your hands, by your want. You cradled the back of his neck and guided him closer until his lips hovered over your chest. “But I like it.”

He exhaled a shaky chuckle against your skin. “Of course you do.”

The sound vibrated through you. He’d stopped expecting predictability from you tonight; every layer you peeled back surprised him, enticed him more. His cock throbbed painfully inside his trousers, the head already slick and leaking enough that he could feel the damp patch spreading against his thigh. He tried not to think about how pathetic it was, how long it had been since anyone had touched him like this, how fast you were unraveling years of careful restraint.

“I’ve been told it feels quite good on your tongue too.” you whispered, nails scratching his scalp. 

Seokjin’s mouth found the soft valley between your breasts first with open kisses, slow drags of tongue, tasting salt and warm skin. Then he moved higher, lips brushing the underside of one breast before teeth grazed the side in a sudden, possessive bite. Not hard enough to bruise, but firm enough to mark. You gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, the sharp tug sending fire across his scalp.

A darker part of him reared up at the thought: others had seen you like this. Tasted you. Known the hitch in your breath when they played with that piercing. It was irrational, unfair and slightly hypocritical, but right now, with you trembling in his lap, you were his. He wanted the evidence of it on your skin, even if just for tonight.

He soothed the bite with a slow, wet lick, tongue flattening over the faint imprint before trailing kisses upward. When he reached your nipple, he paused, breath hot against the tight peak, then wrapped plush lips around it. The barbell clicked softly against his teeth; he rolled the metal between tongue and roof of his mouth, savoring the cool silver contrast against your fever-hot skin. He sucked with gentle pulls at first, then deeper, tongue flicking the heart charms in quick, teasing strokes.

Your hips stuttered, grinding down harder. Through his slacks and your thin sleep shorts, he could feel the slick heat of your pussy soaking through; wet enough that every roll dragged obscene friction against his aching length. The sounds spilling from your throat were filthy-sweet: soft whimpers building to breathy moans, louder with each swirl of his tongue.

He pulled off with a wet pop, lips glistening. 

“Shhh, baby.” his voice was low, rough, edged with sudden awareness. Nabi’s room was only a hallway away. “Gotta be quiet.”

“Fuck–sorry.” you bit your lip, trying to muffle yourself, one hand still fisted in his hair while the other slid down his chest, over the hard planes of his stomach, until your palm cupped the thick ridge of his cock. You squeezed, firm and exploratory, and felt him jump under your touch. “You feel so good, though.”

Jin groaned into your neck, hips jerking up instinctively. Your small hand worked him through the fabric, stroking the length, cupping the heavy weight of his balls, and every pass sent sparks up his spine. His stomach clenched, balls drawing tight. Too much. Too fast. He hadn’t been this close to the edge from dry humping since he was a teenager.

He tried to hold it back, tried to breathe through it, but your thumb swiped over the wet spot at the tip, pressing just right, and the dam broke.

“Oh–fuck–”

His whole body locked up. Cock pulsing hard against your palm, hot spurts soaking through his boxers and slacks in embarrassing waves. He trembled beneath you, breath ragged, face buried in your shoulder as the aftershocks rolled through him.

You froze for a heartbeat. Then your fingers gentled, stroking him through the mess without pulling away.

When Seokjin finally lifted his head, his cheeks were flushed crimson, eyes glassy with mortification and lingering heat. Frustration flickered there too, annoyance at himself, at his body betraying him so quickly.

“It’s okay.” you whispered, cupping his jaw to tilt his face up. You kissed the high flush on his cheekbones, then his swollen mouth. “Really.”

“How can you–” his voice cracked. “That’s not–”

“It’s flattering.” your smile was sweet, not teasing. “Means you wanted this as bad as I did.”

He exhaled hard, something loosening in his chest. He didn’t bother with excuses; it had never happened before, not like this. But the truth was humiliatingly simple: you undid him. Your scent clinging to his shirt, your taste still on his tongue, your nails on his scalp, your hips never giving him a second to catch his breath. Too long without touch. Too much want.

And now he had something to prove.

You started to shift, ready to climb off, already mentally filing this under incredible makeout, maybe a cold shower later, but Seokjin moved faster.

One arm banded around your waist; the other braced on the couch. In a smooth, controlled motion he flipped you both. Your back met the cool, wipe-clean leather with a soft thump. You squeaked, half surprise, half laugh, and the sound vanished as his mouth covered yours again, deeper this time, hungrier.

He settled between your thighs, weight pinning you deliciously. One hand caught your wrists, lifting them above your head and pressing them lightly to the cushion, not restraining, just holding. A quiet reminder of who was bigger, older, the one who could stop this with a word if he wanted.

He didn’t want to stop.

Jin’s free hand dragged down your side in that slow and possessive way, fingers tracing the dip of your waist, the curve of your hip, before slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. Not diving in yet. Teasing the sensitive skin just above your mound.

He broke the kiss, lips brushing your ear.

“You’re really gonna have to be quiet for this, baby.”

The word slipped from him again, and your heart stuttered hard enough you felt it in your throat. He hadn’t called anyone that in years. Hadn’t wanted to. Until you.

“For what?” you breathed, already knowing, already aching.

Seokjin’s mouth curved against your collarbone. “For when I make you cum on my tongue.”

Your breath snagged. Back arching off the leather as he began his slow descent, kissing the soft swell of your stomach, dipping his tongue into your navel just to feel you shiver. Jin’s hands roamed your thighs: warm palms sliding up the insides, thumbs brushing dangerously close to where you were already dripping for him. You bit your lip hard, trying to swallow the sounds clawing up your throat, eyes locked on his face as he explored you like he was memorizing every inch.

“Can I take these off?” he paused at your hips, voice rougher than you’d ever heard it. “Please, oppa–” The plea came out whisper-thin, hips already lifting to help.

The man hooked his fingers under the waistband of your cotton shorts and dragged them down, slow enough to make you squirm. When they cleared your ankles and he realized you were bare underneath, a low, guttural groan tore from his chest. He sat back on his heels for a second, just staring.

Completely naked under him while he was still in his half-unbuttoned shirt and slacks, cock visibly thickening again behind the damp fabric. Your skin flushed hot under his gaze, breasts heaving, nipples still shiny from his earlier attention, the piercing glinting in the low light. Thighs trembling. Pussy glistening, swollen, lips parted and slick.

“Fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Look at this soaked little pussy. So fucking pretty.”

“Seokjin– please–”

Your whine cracked the quiet. He exhaled hard through his nose, then lifted one of your legs to drape over the back of the couch, the other falling open to the side. The stretch exposed you completely, cool air kissing wet heat, making your hole clench around nothing. His broad shoulders settled between your thighs as he lowered himself, stomach flat to the leather, face inches from where you needed him most.

He didn’t tease for long.

Jin’s tongue pushed between your folds in one long, slow drag, parting the sticky mess, flattening to lap up the flood of arousal coating you. The taste hit him like a drug: sweet-tart, heady, addictive. He swallowed audibly, moaned low in his throat, the vibration rumbling straight through your clit.

“Goddamn–” he growled against you. “You taste so fucking good.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the whimper that threatened to be too loud. The other flew to his hair, fingers twisting tight as he licked you open, broad strokes from your entrance to your clit, then back down, tongue dipping inside your fluttering hole just enough to make your hips buck. His large hands clamped your thighs wider, holding you pinned and spread while he devoured.

When his plush lips finally closed around your clit, you nearly sobbed. He sucked, gentle pulls at first, then harder, tongue flicking rapid little circles over the swollen bud while the flat of it pressed and rolled. Wet, obscene slurping filled the room, mixed with his muffled groans of pure enjoyment. He wasn’t breathing properly, too focused, too greedy, but he didn’t care. Neither did you.

Your hips rolled up to meet his mouth, grinding shamelessly against his face. Slick smeared across his chin, his cheeks; he only pressed deeper, nose bumping your clit when his tongue fucked back inside you.

“Jin–fuck–oh shit–”

You were trying. You really were. But the man was relentless; tongue swirling in tight, filthy patterns you didn’t even know existed, lips sucking your clit like he was starving. One hand slid up to pinch and tug at your pierced nipple; the sharp spark shot straight to your core.

“Gonna cum–don’t stop–please–”

He hummed approval against you, vibration ripping another choked moan from your throat, then did something wicked: pointed his tongue and twirled it around your clit in fast, tight circles while sucking at the same time. Your vision whited out. Back bowing off the couch, thighs clamping around his head, fingers yanking his hair so hard it had to hurt.

You came hard, a shattering, silent scream trapped behind your palm. Waves of pleasure crashed through you: pussy clenching and gushing against his tongue, legs shaking, toes curling. He didn’t stop, licking you through every pulse, slower now, savoring the fresh flood of wetness until your hips jerked from overstimulation.

When you finally collapsed, limp, boneless, chest heaving, he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against your inner thigh. Lips and chin shiny with you. Breathing ragged. Eyes dark and blown when they met yours.

Your name left him like a prayer. “Baby…”

He kissed the soft skin of your thigh once, then again, higher, tasting the mess he’d made of you.

Your vision was blurry with static, limbs falling limp on the couch as you forgot your own name. 

“Kim Seokjin– model by day, secret agent by night.”-- or at least, that was the introduction he had given you years ago when he first found himself at your summer job. When he first decided you were too cute not to annoy any second he could manage. Elbows resting on the swim deck, wet hair pushed from his face as he sent you one of his signature smirks. 

Even at the memory now, you can’t help but roll your eyes. 

“And how, exactly, are you drowning, Kim?” 

“I…” He pauses as if he’s in thought– though you doubt he’s ever had a thought a day in his life– before grabbing his foot and holding it close to himself. Bouncing on one leg to stay afloat while he's so obviously drowning. “I’m having a cramp! Owwww! It hurts so bad! I need you to save me! I didn’t wait long enough after eating owww, it hurts so bad!”

You blink at him, unimpressed. 

“You’re incredulous.” You roll your eyes, speaking only after a long period of silence. Hoping it would give him the time to realise how ridiculous he looks, though it apparently doesn't do the trick– the most blinding smile you’ve ever seen displayed on his too-plump lips. 

This is the game, isn’t it? All about attention– making sure yours is drawn on him every second he can get. And apparently, according to that expression he wears and the way he body swims to your perch, he’s somehow won again. 

How he can win a game you don’t (lies) want to play, nor know the rules of, you have no clue. But the face of a victor is the same as he scoops a pink floatie under his pits, paddling his way until his arms rest on the pool-edge right by where your chair sits. 

“So you think I’m out of this world?” You glance down at him from under your shades, can’t help but take in the way half of his lip quirks up into a smirk– though not a sleazy one. Unfortunately, you doubt the man blessed with an abundance of beauty could look sleazy. 

“I think it’s a miracle you passed your swimming test.”  

You swear he’s batting his lashes up at you, “Because it would’ve been so much more fun to save me, obviously. CPR without the chest compressions, right?”

You stare at him for a minute after that line, honestly. Of the pick-up phases he’s used, that has got to be one of the worst ones– and you’ve heard more than you can count. Maybe (hopefully) he’s losing his touch. 

“What do you want, Kim?” You state plainly, resuming your scans of the pool for anyone who, you know, actually needs saving instead of just attention from anyone with two legs and a pulse. 

“You.” God, you roll your eyes again. Should you be worried about them getting stuck in that state from being around him? Maybe. But you find yourself more worried about the fact that this obvious fuck boy refuses to give up no matter what you do. 

Ignoring him? He becomes increasingly ridiculous, shouting your name while he attempts (even attempts might be too generous) to do handstands in the pool. Change shifts? He figures out when your new ones are anyone. Splash him? He moans. 

He is utterly absurd. Completely and absolutely. 

You know, you still really don’t get him. It’s been 3 years since he’s started playing this summer game of tag, and he still seems to have no end in sight. Normally, whenever guys at university decide to make you a challenge, they give up pretty quickly. Your unattainable streak remaining unbroken because you know what they all really want. You understand games. 

A quick lay. Test answers. Money. An ego boost. Never actually you. 

You’ve dealt with it all before, and ever since you started attending grad school you’ve decided to never entertain men again. But god damn, you’ve never met anyone as persistent as Kim Seokjin. 

“I walked into that one, didn’t I?” 

He shrugs, smirk never leaving his face. “Maybe.”

The groan of annoyance that leaves your lips is impressive, honestly, in the dramatic nature of it all. Your entire body throwing itself back on the chair as you make it known your displeasure. In the situation, in him. 

Next thing you know, you’re already taking a stand. Your manager won’t get mad at you for taking your break five minutes early, not in the slightest so long as you don’t rat him out to the boss for stealing snacks from the snack bar on company time. 

Though, when you try to move… for some odd reason you’re stuck in place. A glance down to your legs would identify the culprit– Seokjin’s hand. Wrapped around your ankle. Halting you from moving any further while his forearm and biceps strain just a little. 

It is only then, that you realise, he is a lot stronger than his lean form lets on. And you, you’re only thankful for the sun that can excuse the darker hue on your cheeks.

“Wait! Wait!” He says oh-so calmly. Only a little bit of that desperate whine in his voice that you like a bit more than you would ever admit. 

You only glance down at him from behind your sunglasses once more, that same unimpressed expression across your features, “You have ten seconds before I kick you into the pool.” You don’t even know why you’re humouring him, but you are. 

“I think that would go against the lifeguard code.” You’re regretting the decision immediately.

“And what, pray tell, do you think this ‘Lifeguard Code’ entails?”

 “Saving my life, obviously. Not kicking a beautiful face such as mine into the pool. Probably some other Baywatch-esque indulgences, too.” 

“You’ve never seen Baywatch.” 

“I have not.” 

“Right.” You look at your wrist, arms crossed over your chest. Only really noticing that there is no watch there, but you pretend there is anyway.

“Your time is up.” You add, though really his time had been up for an additional thirty seconds. If he notices, he doesn’t point it out. “I’m going on my break.” You add, but don’t move a muscle. 

“Ah~” He kicks his head to the side slightly like he’s annoyed, when you both know in reality it’s just another one of his performances. “Wait, wait, wait!” 

His hand squeezes your ankle again, as if to get you to stay. Continuing on with his act like he does every time the two of you get to bantering like this. Meanwhile you– you just have to ignore that little voice in the back of your brain commenting on how big his hand feels. How large his surprisingly calloused hands feel against your damp skin.

“Five.” You count down anyway, his grip dropping from your ankle, “Four.” 

“Three.” He adds for you with a smirk, you roll your eyes again. 

You continue anyway, “Two.”

“Go on a date with me?” 

And at that, the heel of your foot is against his chest. Pushing him back into the water with a hash splash and a cackle of laughter from his lips. 

You give him one last glance before turning, legs carrying you away and towards the breakroom. “In your dreams.” 

Much to your dismay, he calls back. Spitting a bit of water from his lips as he shakes his head. His wet mop, unfortunately, looking as if it was put perfectly in place. “You always are!” 

Of course he had to get the last word in. 

Your feet– donned in fashionable, high class bunny slippers– drag as you walk down the often treaded path towards your place of work: Summervalley Pool. Dragging, because you really didn’t want to go, especially in your pajamas. But still moving, because, unfortunately, the snores of your father keep you up at night in your childhood bedroom and you, poor you, forgot your headphones in your work locker along with your phone charger. 

You know you won’t be getting any sleep tonight without the two items, so, you force yourself down the road to your work by foot, car still in the shop. Even if the moon high in the sky makes you want to do nothing more than curl up in bed and fall asleep. 

Uhgggg. Annoying. But whatever, it is a reality you accepted a long time ago. 

You’ve accepted a lot of realities. That a lot of people don’t like women who speak their mind freely. That computer science is a male dominated field that you will force yourself into no matter what. That too many people just want something out of you, not actually like you. 

It took awhile to accept those facts, a lot longer than it took to accept your fate that you would be walking to the pool tonight, but cycles repeat. Cycles perpetuate the narrative, and thus ferment themselves into stone.  

It’s good though, that way. At least it’s helped you grow a thick skin. Helped you remain firm in yourself and in your own power rather than relying on it from others. So while the cycles may have hurt, they were necessary. 

At least, that’s what you’ve chosen to believe. 

You sigh, finally reaching the pool gates. Thick metal fence blocks your entrance inside– but have no fear! Your employee keycard grants you entrance! 

Hazzah! 

A little smile crosses your lips as you scan the badge, thinking you’re more than a little bit funny. Unlocking the back employee entrance before crossing inside and closing it behind you, ensuring it’s locked before trailing further inside the large plot of land that hosts your little neighbourhood pool.

The motion detection lights flash on as you walk towards the employee lifeguard building. A little shack by the back fence attached to the guest showers and bathroom. Across the way from the snack shack, and separated from the kiddy pools by a long shrub on the left. 

Your normal, everyday monologue passes through your mind as you make your way. The same monologue you say to yourself every morning. Every, boring, morning.

You hate boring.

Sometimes, you wish something would just whisk you away from the same monotonous drawl of the days you spend stuck in the office, stuck in class, stuck in your lifeguard chair. Save you from the repeated cycle of the office career you practically signed yourself up for when you decided to go to college for programming, and then grad school to get your masters in computer science.

Sometimes, just sometimes. Because honestly, you like the work. You like computers– how they’re essentially little brains in boxes trying to figure out the world just like you are. Trying to guide themselves along to your tune. 

The puzzle solving aspect is pretty fun, too. You did have a little stint in high school where you enjoyed trying to figure out how to hack, but that doesn’t make much money. It’s not secure. 

It’s unfortunate that the pool pays as well as it does, and that your internship only takes place during the months your school does. 

You wish the world didn’t have to revolve around money as much as it does, but it just happens to be another unfortunate reality that you’ve accepted. 

You finally make it to the side wall around your building– falling over the shrub in the process that you missed in the dark, but you’re choosing to ignore the leaves in your messy hair– to the lockers which hold your saving grace. 

Your glorious, sound cancelling headphones.

Honestly, you wonder if your father may have been a mountain goat or something in a past life. You can still hear the sounds of his sleep from your second floor bedroom when his is on the first, across the entire distance of the house. Like. It’s ridiculous. 

The whishhh of summer wind twists around you. A louder than normal hiss passes by as the air passes through the trees and hits the building around you. 

You feel a quiet break of air pass through your lips as you twist the combination into your locker. Three to the left, two to the right, then to the final number. Fingers rehearsing their methodology in every twist until you pull down and that little ‘pop’ of victory sounds clear in the air. 

It’s only then you, for some reason past explanation, glance over to the locker door to the left. Your eyes pinching as you take in something that certainly wasn’t there that morning. 

Your hand lifts, gracing over a small hole in the metal, the material still warm to the touch. 

Further to the left, there are even more. 

“What the…” 

But before you’re even able to finish the thought, footsteps sound to your right. And there, there is the most confusing thing you’ve seen all night. 

Kim Seokjin, standing there clad in a pitch black suit, white button up included, panting as he spots you. In his hands, a pistol aimed at the ground. His hair twisting, fluttering in the wind as he looks like some… some sort of movie star, maybe. 

You’re only brought out of a stupor due to the call of your name, alerting you back to this reality. Not the movie your brain was trying to make up. 

Kim Seokjin. Standing in front of you. With a gun. 

Are you dreaming? Fucking god, is he actually haunting your dreams now?

The bang of a bullet on the locker next to you lets you know that you are, not in fact, dreaming and that this is very much, real. 

“Shit.” Seokjin cusses, glancing in the direction it came from before making the split second decision of running towards you, grabbing your hand. Pulling you along with him as you stumble– try to figure out how this is actually happening and why the hell you’re getting shot at. 

Huh, you never thought you’d be the type to freeze. 

“Kim!” You shout, stumbling after him. Tripping slightly as you try to keep up with the gate of his long legs. One of your bunny slippers lost in the process as he tugs you along, shots continuing to fire behind you. “What the fuck?!” 

He doesn’t answer until he finally manages to pull you behind the wall for cover. Making sure his body is closest to the free edge with his gun held up high, close to his face now. A constant clatter of bang! Bang! Bang! hitting the corner of the cement wall. 

Your hands come up quickly to cover your ears– even though the sound is a lot quieter than you would have expected, it’s still loud nonetheless. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” He asks, pausing in the middle of the sentence to step out from behind the wall to get off a few shots of his own into the dark. You don’t know how he can see a god damn thing, but it seems like he knows what direction to shoot in regardless.

“I should be asking you the same thing, dickhead!!” 

Another cuss spills from his lips as he tucks behind the wall again, hair a little askew in the way that makes him look even more attractive. Hand reaching into his pocket to pull out another magazine before skillfully switching his now-empty tank with the fresh one, his voice informing you the entire time. “My company's informant was meant to drop off a package here tonight, it’s evident now that that did not, in fact, go according to plan.” 

Your jaw drops open as you subtly take a few steps back. Company? Informant? What the hell?! 

“What the fuck are you on about!” You shout, needing answers more than anything else. It feels like he’s talking in some sort of code, his broad back facing you once more as he gets a few more shots out. 

Still, when he tucks himself back, he manages to let out a little laugh. Is somehow still able to find humour in this situation. “I can explain all of that when we’re not being shot at. All you have to know is that I’m going to keep you safe and get you out of this. Deal?”

“What? No! No deal! No!” 

He snickers again, but his smile quickly drops as a particularly good shot hits the corner of the wall, chipping the brick in its place. Now, you don’t know guns, but you know that bullet had to be big. A lot bigger than whatever you were getting shot with before. It seemed a lot more accurate, too. 

“Fuck, it doesn’t matter right now!” He glances back at you for only a second, worry evident in his expression. “Just trust me, okay? Please?” 

Now, granted, you don’t have many options here. In fact, it seems the only option is to trust Seokjin with your life. The rational, simple: you’ve known him for three years and he saved you from getting shot at. Whoever is doing the shooting? Seems like they want you dead.

Okay, fair enough Seokjin. Yeah, you’ll trust him. Sure. 

You deflate only slightly as you come to your conclusion, accepting your fate, “Fine! Fine! Whatever, just– tell me what we need to do!” 

Another heavy shot fills the air, but he seems content– almost pleased– with your answer. 

“Okay, you know this place better than me. I have my friends coming– they’re basically here already. Just– what is the most secure room you can think of?” His eyes are intense as he stares into your own gaze. It makes you want to shrink a little, if you’re being honest. 

It takes you a second– definitely not because of how intently he looks at you– to think of something, anything. Your brain scanning the various facilities in the building next to you. 

Showers? No, too big and the walls are pretty thin. Plus, there are windows. Windows are probably bad, a bullet can go through those easier than anything else. 

Office? Same issue, windows. 

Bathrooms? Attached to the shower rooms. 

Storage closet? 

You blink, looking at him fully as your voice answers for you, "There's a storage closet. All the walls are cement, only one entry point. No windows. Door is heavy– some kind of metal, I don’t know. I have the key.” 

He smiles– big, bright. Eyes glancing to your forehead before they land back on your own. “I could kiss you right now.” 

“But,” You ignore the comment, “It’s on the other side of the building.” The back of it, instead of the front where you stand now. The high shrubbery halts the idea of going around the right side, so that means the only option is…

Seokjin’s expression pinches as he thinks it through. Analyses the next few steps in his head. You can practically see the gears turn just by watching him– his brain going through various scenarios until he pieces together the right one. 

“Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen.” He looks back at you, mouthing out the steps in quick succession.

Step one. Run only when the sniper is reloading their gun. 

Seokjin steps out from the corner, gun firing bullets freely into the dark, starlit night. Dipping back behind the cover of the wall right before another loud bang sounds out throughout the clouds.

Two bullets left. 

He told you that kind of gun can only hold five in a magazine. Two left and you need to be ready to run as fast as you can. 

Another bang and a spray of dust signals that the edge of the wall crumbles more. Seokjin looks down at you, his fingers counting down 3… 2… 1… before he’s turning around the corner again. 

The last fire of the sniper signaling that it’s time to move, now. 

Step 2. Run fast, Run hard. Seokjin will cover you with everything he has. 

He takes off first, this time thankfully making sure to maintain pace with you. Making sure his body blocks yours fully as you run around the building. 

He had mentioned how the two of you were practically sitting ducks– easy bait as you two stand in the light while your assailants remain under the cloak of darkness. He told you how imperative it was for you to move quick. 

What he didn’t account for? Your innate clumsiness– the bang of your head against your locker that you left open. So intent on moving as fast as possible that you completely missed it in your field of vision. 

Seokjin halts you up by your collar when you stumble slightly with apparent ease. Damn him and his sleeper build. Damn him.

Meanwhile, the free hand not gripping the collar of your shirt continues to reign bullets in the dark every once and awhile. Whenever he catches the glint of something you can’t even hope to see, you presume. 

Finally, when you make it around the other side–

Step 3. Seokjin as bait. 

Admittedly, it would be your favourite step if his life wasn’t actually in danger, but whatever.

He drops you off at the door, popping himself back around the other side of the wall, making sure all the attention is on him while you get the door unlocked. Putting himself in even more harm just to get you safe– to keep you safe. 

Why? You’re not really sure. You don’t have time to address the question, anyway. Not with your fingers shaking around your keyring as you slide the key into its home inside the door. Your heart hammering with adrenaline as the sound of gunshots continue just on the other side of the wall. 

What if he gets injured?

No, he won’t. He’s fine. He’s… trained… in this…?

Wait a god damn minute…

The thought is lost as the door lock finally slides open, your arm pushing it open as you shout out to the man acting as bait for you, “I got it!” 

Step 4. Bunker down.

When he sprints back around the side of the building, lights illuminating his back while his lips remain open as small pants fill his lungs, you’re almost certain that you’ve seen an angel, though you’d never admit it. 

The illusion is immediately shattered.

Before you’re able to get into the room yourself, Seokjin is shoving you inside. Closing the door and locking it with a loud slam while you find yourself suddenly in a pile of kickboards. Kickboards that the dickhead pushed you into!! What the fuck?!

“What the fuck was that for?!” You gasp, automatically seeing a shade of red not often comprehended by human retinal cones. 

He raises one eyebrow, “I needed to get you inside the room?” 

Your cheeks puff out, your entire body, brain, entirely frazzled from this situation. From, just from everything. 

“Okay! Okay! Answers! Now!” You snap your fingers as best you can, still not moving from your sprawled form among the kickboard.

“I told you already? Did the bullets affect your hearing?” Though his tone sounds concerned, his words only make you want to rip your own hair out. 

“Are you trying to tell me you’re actually a fucking secret agent?!” You snip, eyes locked in a piercing gaze on his form. 

He doesn’t even blink at your question, jaw still tight. His expression trained on the door he diligently stands next to, pistol drawn just in case, though trained on the floor. You hate that his suit, never mind his hair is still in perfect order, while you’re lying in a pool of kickboard that he pushed you into. 

Jackass. 

“I told you I was.” He says calmly, jaw drawn tight, keeping watch for danger. 

You are, in all sense of the word, bewildered. Completely exasperated, “I thought you were just hitting on me?!” 

At that, he pauses for a second. Brown eyes glancing down at your displaced form– you should hit him for still not apologising. “Did it work?” 

…Yeah, you’re going to slap the shit out of him the second whoever was shooting at the two of you clears out from the area due to his friends. You hope to god they come soon. 

“No?! Obviously not!” 

“Ah, I’ll get you next time then.” That smirk is on his lips now, that same one he always sends and you’ve already decided that if the assailants don't get to you two first, you’re going to kill him yourself. 

You roll your eyes, finally sitting up from your position with a huff, “So what, are you a model too?” 

“What? Of course not.” And for some strange reason, now he’s the one that looks bewildered. Completely confused by your question as if it was the only illogical thing out of this entire situation. “How could I be a model and a secret agent? My face would be everywhere and y’know–” He gestures to himself, “I have to be secret-y.” 

“You’d have to be a successful model for your face to be everywhere.” 

He scoffs, “Have you seen me?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

His face changes for a frame, a small little minute change that has you questioning your ability to see in the limited lighting. You swear that his little smirk morphs into a fond smile, a little shake of his head accompanying it as he closes his eyes. His head tilting down just a little. 

Yeah, you’re sure your brain made that up entirely because soon, the same neutral mask you’ve come to understand as him analysing the situation outside reappears. Followed by a gentle sigh and a slide down the wall, his knees raised just slightly, the cuff of his slacks raising just a bit.

“I don’t hear shots anymore, or people running. The guys are probably handling it.” Offhandedly, you wonder if ‘the guys’ refer to any of the men you’ve seen at the pool with Seokjin, but dismiss it. The thought doesn’t go anywhere, anyway, and you rather just wipe your hands clean of this situation than learn anything more than you know already. 

“Great!” You stand, giving your best too-wide smile as you fake dust off your sweatpants before starting a march to the door. All motions a little exaggerated for dramatic effect, of course. “I’ll be on my way then! This was such a great time. However, as thrilling as it was, I’d rather die than do it again! Please never come to the pool again so I don’t almost die. Thanks so much for making sure I’m not dead!” 

He doesn’t stop your little speech until you’re already at the door, more than a little amused with it, if his little head shake again is anything to go by. His large palm grabbing your wrist as it reaches for the handle, “Wait.” 

He lets you go, your arm falling to your side as looks down at his watch– stupid fucking spy gadget probably, who even still wears watches in this day and age?! “I haven’t received the all-clear yet. It’s safer if we wait it out in here.” 

You hesitate, fingertips itching to grab the handle and pull it open, “Percentage chance I die if I leave here now?” 

That same smile as before comes back to his lips, and this time you’re sure you’re not hallucinating. “You know, for someone who said and I quote ‘I'd rather die than go on a date with you Kim’, this is pretty ironic.”

“This isn’t a date?!”

“Could be.” 

“....Your balls are a lot closer to my foot than you think.” And for someone who likes to maintain such a cocksure demeanour, you learn in that moment that is laugh is nothing of the sort. 

At your comment, he doubles over. A squeaky, high pitched laugh leaving his lips as one hand reaches across his abdomen, holding it close. His whole body moving along with the sound, big lips pulled back slightly to show his joy. His humour. 

It takes a full 15 seconds for him to calm down, too, dramatically wiping his eye with the back of his finger to brush back tears that weren’t there in the first place. His face looking up at you still standing there– standing there frozen the entire time, you would like to add. 

You’ve never heard his real laugh before and it had you a little… not awestruck, never awestruck because that would imply thinking highly of Seokjin in any regard, but… something similar to the feeling. Maybe befuddled? Yeah, you’ll go with that. 

His full smile has you feeling that way a little bit, too. 

“Fifty-fifty.” Your eyebrows pinch a little as his voice comes to his ears, trying to understand the meaning behind them. Obviously he wasn’t referring to the k-pop group. Nor Ablume, probably. Did he want you to sing cupid?

“The percentage chance you could die without the all clear.” Annnddd that smirk is back. That stupid, stupid smirk that you have so much ate in your heart for. Contending right along with the fact that he read you so easily. 

Who the hell does he think he is, sending it your way like its suave? Double O Seve– Oh. Never mind. 

You shake your head, getting rid of the stupor you, for reasons beyond you, found yourself trapped in. With a sigh, you move back to your place across the room. Returning to your place among the scattered kickboards and hopeless dreams of returning to your comfortable bed anytime soon. 

“This just had to be the day I forgot my headphones at the pool, didn’t it?” You dismay, imagining a rain cloud around your head. The single bunny slipper left still on your foot kicking along with your leg, its ears flopping. 

“That’s why you were here tonight?” 

“I mean, yeah. I need them to sleep. Why else would I be here?” 

“... to see my handso–” Your eyes shoot up, pinched in a harsh glare that, for some reason, has no malice in it. Interesting. Time to compartmentalise that fact and never think about it again! 

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” God, and he’s doing that smile again. The one that makes you not hate him as much. 

“But did you see how I hesitated? I was being considerate.” He jokes, and you almost want to laugh. 

“If that’s what you want to call it, Kim.” You shake your head, looking away as you will away a little smile from your own face. 

When you look back, his expression is set firm, more serious. His eyes making sure that they’re locked with your own. His tone less than playful, “I’d like it a lot more if you just called me Seokjin, you know.” 

Your head cocks back a little in surprise, this is just another one of his flirting attempts isn’t it? Probably. So why does that expression on your face have your gut squirming the same way it was when he was shooting that gun? 

“Why?” You look away, pulling your knees to your chest as you rest your chin on top of them. Suddenly, the corner with the mouse hole in it seems to be a lot more interesting than it previously was. 

“Kim is so formal! I like to think we’re closer than that!” The lighthearted expression of his tone is back to normal, but the comment leaves you feeling somewhat bitter. 

Close? You want to laugh. You’re just entertainment, always have been to him. Why else would he bother you every shift he has? Pretend flirt like his life depends on it? He’s just a playboy. Always had been, always will be. Only now with the addition of being a spy on top of it. 

“You shouldn’t keep doing this, you know.” 

“Doing what?” 

Is he being serious? You really need to put an end to this. It’s getting ridiculous. Like, honestly? He can’t be serious? Can he? He has to know. He has to. “Pretending like you like me. I get that it’s fun for you, but at the end of the day you really don’t know anything about me.” 

You hear a hitch in his breath. Maybe he didn’t expect you to say that, maybe he’s tilting his head like a confused puppy while his perfectly sculpted brows wrinkle up. Good. You hope he gets wrinkles. “I’d like to think I know a lot.” 

Your lips tilt further downwards, “Because you had your little friends do a background check–” 

“Because” He cuts you off, his breath suddenly a lot closer than before,  his body heat radiating from in front of you, “I pay attention.” He corrects, firm. Stable in what he says. Like nothing could really shake the foundation in his beliefs. 

It’s only then that your eyes twist forward, and it's clear your other two senses were right in their perception that he is, in fact, a lot closer than before. Only a few inches away from your face, a few inches away from breathing you in. 

His eyes are locked on yours, making sure you don’t shake from his stare now that he has you. To make sure you believe everything he says. 

“I have no reason to believe you.” You aren’t sure where you gained the confidence to speak from, but you’re glad you did. 

He hovers for a second, impenetrable. Just looking at you. Taking in your expression like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on inside of your head. Honestly, you kind of just wish he would. Then you wouldn’t have to figure it out for yourself. 

But, instead of voicing anything you could decipher, he just sighs. His frame plopping down on his butt, legs crossing in front of him as one of his hands stretch out in front of him. The whole scene is a little silly, but you’re glad for it. You didn’t like the heavy note the storage closet seemed to be finding itself in. 

“Then let’s start over and I can get to know you properly.” He says, back straight as he gives you a big, genuine smile, “My name is Kim Seokjin. I’m a model by day, secret agent by night.”

You shouldn’t be surprised when you wake up the next morning alone, but you are. 

Wait, hold on. Pause. Rewind. 

That makes it sound like the two of you slept together (you throw up in your own mouth a little at the thought) which you certainly didn't. But you did– the two of you talked. A lot. 

His friends never texted that the area was cleared so… you didn’t really have anything else to do. 

After his brief re-introduction that felt all too familiar to the speech he gave you during your first meeting, the two of you talked all night long. About anything, everything. Talked like friends and not like– like whatever you were and you… you thought it was kind of nice. 

Well, nice in the kind-of-gross way like when a dog licks your face or you see a too-lovey dovey couple in public. Like, great for them, but really?! Here and now?!

Wait, okay, you’re going on another tangent again. It is clear you have strong feelings about too much pda but that isn’t what needs to be processed right now. 

What needs to be processed is the fact that after years of Seokjin claiming that he is your nemesis, the two of you are now… sort of friends…? 

Or actually, no. You wouldn’t go that far. But you don’t hate him as much as you once thought you did. And yes, you would concede that some of his jokes are a little funny, even the puns. Plus, his laugh is kind of funny, too. 

Yeah, okay. You definitely don’t hate him anymore. You’re… neutral. Right, that sounds good. That’s what you’re going to go with. 

The Kim Seokjin Net Neutrality Act has hereby been passed in the courts of your brain but… one glaring thing is still obvious. 

Last night he let you fall asleep when he saw you were getting a bit droopy. Said he would keep watch and “keep you safe” because he's "defended presidents before, you know?” And sure, you didn’t really know what that had to do with anything, but whatever. 

By the morning he was gone. With nothing other than a note and a really bad– and you mean god awful– drawing of what you assume is him giving a thumbs up. A little ‘Guys finally texted! See you around little miss lifeguard’ with a scratched out pun that he was really the one who guarded your life. 

It has you feeling a little bit sour, you’ll be honest. Kinda like a one night stand, but again, definitely without the sex. You wouldn’t touch that fuck boy with a ten foot pole. But… he didn’t even leave his number? After you were sort-of-but-not-really-friends-just-neutral now?

Or maybe spies didn’t have phones, you don’t know. Either way, on your walk back home (headphones in hand, thank you very much) you decide you’re definitely going to give him a piece of your mind the next time you see him.

Like anything has ever stopped you before.

Things have been quiet. 

Too quiet, the cheesier side of your brain would supply. 

Work had been normal– boring, slow. You haven’t done much. Just sat on your chair, observed the pool in between sessions of slapping sunscreen across your skin. Boring, normal, everyday things that you shouldn’t question in the slightest. 

Oh, well, Seokjin hasn’t appeared once in 3 weeks. But you’re deciding not to hark too much on that fact. 

In fact, you’re doing a great job at ignoring it entirely. That is exactly why, now, you stand in your room throwing darts at the letter he left you, specifically aiming for the drawing of his face. Clad in your new bunny slippers and pajamas as you aim and fire every single dart for the third time that night.  

Like you said, ignoring it completely, just… getting better at your dart skills. Exactly. It’s just simple practice, obviously. Nothing else. Just a normal, everyday night of lazing around your house with the background nose of a helicopter flying by overhead. Perfect, beautiful, content. 

You throw another dart at the wall and– dink.

Huh. That doesn’t sound like your dart hitting the board, no, in fact–

You whip your head around at the window, eyes narrowing as you stare. 

Dink. 

Yeah, you’re not crazy and now you’re for sure that what you heard, and now saw, was real. 

Someone is throwing rocks at your window like your life is a stupid romcom. Now who the hell…

One more, albeit louder dink and you’re marching over to your window, slamming it open to look outside, to try and see just who is tampering with your glass. So help whoever it is if they break it and you have to pay to get it fi–

And just like that, you’re reeling backwards. A rock hitting your head instead of the glass in front of it. A hand coming up to cradle the spot on your forehead as you attempt to process what is happening. 

Clambering occurs around you, that much you can tell, along with a quiet “Shit” of a voice you recognise all too well. 

Oh fuck no. What the hell is he doing here?!

You open your eyes just in time to see him no-so gracefully crawling in your window via a tree branch outside. Form clad in a suit once again as he trips inside, standing up like the action never occurred before quickly rushing over to you to check if you’re okay. 

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t think you were going to open it.” Your gaze is fire as you look up at him, a pout on your lips and anger in your brow. 

“I didn’t expect a jackass to be clinging onto a tree like a sloth outside of my window at,” You glance at the digital clock next to your bed. The one that you still use every morning to wake up even though, yes, it is retro and yes, you could just set them on your phone but those never work as well. “2 am.” 

He smiles, that same smile you had to have seen a million times by now, “I see you’re not concussed then.” 

“You think that weak ass throw would do enough to do me in?” You scoff, stepping back from him, and removing the hand from your forehead. Not missing the way he winces in the slightest. “What? Is there a mark?” 

“Ah…” He sucks his teeth, moving his head from side to side analysing it. A stricken look across his features as he takes a step back and humbly bows, “My apologies, you may be scarred forever.” 

“Ha ha.” You mock back, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Seokjin, on the other hand, stands back to full height, a playful smile crest on his stupid plush lips. Eyes taking a moment to look around your room as he places his hands in his pockets, observing the space with glee’d fascination. 

“This is my childhood bedroom.” You quickly clarify for no reason in particular, "That's why it looks like… this.” You supply, but it doesn’t really look like he's paying attention… in fact…

His eyes are locked on your dart board, a playful tilt of his head and a knowing smile on his face clear from his expression. Oh god. 

“It’s nice to know you think of me.” He smiles, cocky. Eyes glancing at you out of the corner. 

Mortified. Yep. This is what mortification feels like. 

You march over to the board, ripping the note off of the surface without a second thought. As if that, somehow, would save you from him seeing it in the first place. 

“I don’t.” You announce, but it's clear by the crumpled note in your hand that your words hold little to absolutely no weight right now. 

Wait. Wait a damn minute. He has no reason to be questioning you. You should be questioning him?! What the fuck?!

What the hell is he doing at your house?! How did he even find out where you live?! It’s been three fucking weeks of nothing after leaving you in a storage room and he’s such a jackass! It’s a good thing you don’t have much of a filter, because your questions are voiced immediately.  

“Ahh…” The sigh is a little drawn out as his fingers tap at the surface of your dresser. Blunt nails conferring with the wood as he decides the best way to do this. 

He wouldn’t be Kim Seokjin if he didn’t choose the most dramatic one. 

“Do you remember the men attacking us–” 

“You. They were attacking you and you roped me into it.”

“Yes, us. Exactly right.” He continues, “three weeks ago?” 

“No, I don’t remember getting shot at and shoved into a pile of kickboards.” He flinches a little at that. Damn, for someone so self assured, that cockiness seems to be lacking in this very moment. 

“Right, yeah. Sorry about that, by the way.” Oh boy, an apology after three weeks. The mini-you in your head is giving him two fingers up– whether they’re thumbs or middle fingers, that's a fact for the gods above to know. “Either way, they’re still after me.”

“Ah, so that’s why you haven’t been around the pool.” You cross your arms over your chest, hip cocked out to the side just a little. 

All of a sudden, it seems like the air around Seokjin shifts. Once, where he seemed almost a little unsure, he’s now the cocky asshole you know well. The dramatics he knows and loves comes back in a second, and honestly, it’s a little impressive how quickly he turns it on. 

“So you’ve been missing me then? You’re admitting it?”

At that, you actually laugh. A little mocking, sure, but it’s real nonetheless. “Fuck no, I was just wondering how I got so lucky.” 

“You wound me so deeply, you know?” 

“I’m glad.”

“That’s a little kinky, you know?” You’re about to bite back, about to take the bait as it dangles so gorgeous in front of your face. However, you pull back at the last second. Get things set back on track. 

Damn, why is it always so easy to fall into conversation with him? Banter flows too freely. 

“Wait, wait. What does any of this have to do with why you’re standing in my room right now?” 

He smirks, bold, “The kinky part? Damn, I didn’t know you were so forward.” 

“Kim.” Your tone is serious, you need answers. Need to know why so many helicopters keep passing over your house. 

“Alright! Alright.” He placates, both hands coming up mid air before he turns his body away from yours, one hand held to his chest like he’s the lead in a musical giving his final monologue. 

“They know we are associated.” He looks solemn, but you know the sound of amusement in his voice. 

Your mouth drops open, eyes widening at the casual reveal. Is he… is he saying that those men with guns are after you now, too?!

“We’re not?!” You shake your head, stepping several feet back. Arms coming up in an ‘x’ over your chest, “Tell them we're not! Unassociate! Un!!”

And for a second, for a second it seems like the drama of it all falls. The sad smile he gives you is evidence enough of how real this all is, how in danger you are. “I’m afraid it isn’t that simple, Y/n.”

Now that his jovial exterior has dropped, now that you can’t hide behind the mask of banter and humour, it feels more real. Everything feels just a little bit too real. You start to pace back and forth in your spot. Your fingers already coming up to your mouth, your teeth biting the skin around your cuticles as a result. 

“Okay, okay. So a bunch of strangers with guns are after me. That is so cool and great.” Your words are half-hearted, but you still spew them anyway. It’s better than letting silence linger in the space. 

“Hey.” You’re not moving anymore, two firm hands pressing down on your shoulders preventing the irreverent walking of your legs. Keeping you firm, solid so you don’t manage to spiral even a little bit. 

When you look up from the ground, you’re faced with him. His form bent over, face directly in front of yours. Holding your gaze the same way he did in that closet 3 weeks ago. Making sure you’re with him. Making sure you listen. Making sure you’re there. 

“You’ll be okay.” His voice is firm, even. Like he wants to make sure you know it. “I’ll protect you.” 

Oh. Oh. 

Why is your heart beating like that? Why did it suddenly swell up and bubble in your chest? Why does your stomach suddenly feel like birds are batting around inside of their cage, itching to be freed and brought to the surface? And why, why does your face suddenly feel so hot?

You only realise you’re holding your breath when he takes a few steps back. An exhale leaving your lips as your lungs resume their normal, centripetal inhale, exhale pattern that sustains life. 

Who knew Seokjin knew how to rob the air out of someone's lungs? He shouldn’t be able to do that. Does he know what kind of power he holds? 

Before you know it, he’s standing a lot closer to the window than before. And when sound returns fully to your ears, you realise that the beating of helicopter blades is a lot closer than before, in fact, it sounds like it’s right outside of your window. 

“Come with me.” A smile is bright on his face, one hand outstretched as a ladder drops perfectly in time. The edge landing right outside the sill. “I’ll keep you safe. Your family isn’t in any danger, you’ll still be able to talk to them. Just let me take care of you until things calm down a bit.” 

You ignore the way your heart pulses harder and the bird’s wings beat brighter. 

“Are you seriously asking me to upheave my whole life right now, Seokjin?” You don’t miss the smirk that goes at the use of his first name. The name he wants you to call him.

“Preferably. It’s a pretty good deal, I think.” 

It’s not that you don’t trust him, in fact, you probably do more than you should. He’s the closest thing you’ve had to a friend in a long time. Longer than you’d like to admit. But this– what he’s asking you. It’s– it’s completely and utterly insane. 

You’d be insane to go along with it. Just as loony as him, actually. 

When things are light, they’re easier to manage. Easier to navigate. With Seokjin, things have always been simple, too. His constant flirting and lighthearted nature, along with how handsome he is has always been indicative of his fuck-boy expression. From the beginning, you had known what he wanted. You had always known never to get too attached. 

But now… now he’s asking you to run away with him? To commit yourself to his side for weeks– months– so he can protect you? 

With your degrees, you had a system. A plan to follow through until the end. You had always known what was expected of you. Always. You had always thought you liked that structure, even if it was boring. Had liked the puzzles regardless of their structured nature. 

So why… Why did you find your heart racing with adrenaline rather than fear? 

Oh. You have a realization. 

Regardless of the bullets flinging and the obvious assault on your life that night three weeks ago, never once did you feel an ounce of fear. 

You felt alive. 

More alive than you’ve ever felt in your entire life. 

More alive than when you won first place at all of your schools coding events. More alive when you saved a man from drowning last summer. More alive than when you cracked into government servers in high school just to see if you could. 

Maybe there's something a little wrong with you, because when you look at Seokjin one more time, you make the decision then and there to never feel bored again. 

You take one step, then two. And next thing you know you’re running to your window to take his hand. To run away with him while the helicopter's ladder dangles right outside. 

However, right when you’re about to push on his chest to get him to move towards it, he stops you. That fond smile you’re beginning to like growing on his lips– “I know I’m just so desirable, but you have time to pack some of your things, you know?” 

Oh look at that, your knee is already raising up and you didn’t even tell it too. What a good knee. 

Let’s just say, he’s kneeling on the ground holding his crotch while you pack your things into a duffle. A victorious smile on your lips. 

Maybe you didn’t get in the last word this time, but you certainly did get in the last laugh. 

Growing up, travelling wasn’t much of an option for you. Both of your parents didn’t get paid much money, not to mention the fact that they were home bodies. So, vacationing off to some foreign land was completely out of the question. 

When you became an adult and started earning your own money, you still never ventured out much. It was more important to put your head down and work. Work on school. Work for your future. You never gave yourself much time to relax, to just bask in… being you, you guess.

But now, as you stand on a balcony in Boracay, the sea breeze billowing your dress around your form as you stare out at the water, you wish you had done it all differently. 

Maybe that wanderlust was always locked down somewhere deep inside of you, hidden behind lines of java and python. Or maybe coding was another sort of escape, you’re not really sure. 

Maybe you’ve always just been escaping inside computers to hide from things you’re not sure about. Maybe it’s something like that. 

“Enjoying the view?” You wish you could claim his voice is grating like the squawking of seagulls, but now you unfortunately find it sort of… nice? 

Over the last few weeks, your view of Seokjin has been… changing. You’ll just put it that way because saying anything further may risk the fragility of your situation. Yeah, you’ll go with that. 

But it’s hard to not find your opinions changing, no matter how much you like to try and deny it or cover it up with vacant ideas. The way aunties fawn over him in the shops, the way he treats staff at the restaurants you visit. The way he pays for things without a single question– you glance at anything for too long and he’s already at the checkout counter. 

His jokes aren’t… as bad as you originally thought. More often you find yourself actually laughing at them with genuine intent. More often than not you’re beginning to find yourself… oh god, it’s hard for you to even think it… drawn to him of your own accord, rather than his insistence on seeking you out. 

He’s just so– he’s been so considerate. So considerate of everything without you even having to ask.

One night in particular, about a week after you arrived at the island's safehouse, he had taken you out to dinner as he normally does– though, you’ve also learned his own cooking is exquisite but you’re still a little bitter about that fact because what can’t he do? Along with dinner was a show depicting traditional cultural dances and oh god it was just so beautiful. 

You were enraptured entirely with their movements– the flow of the women’s skirts, the grace they held as they moved across the floor. The combination of the harsh, yet beautiful clacking of the sticks against the ground as they moved between them. 

The warm glow of the summer night against your skin, the tinkling stare of the stars above. The gentle scent of the candle on your table whilst the dancers shined with smiles on their faces. 

And then came the moment the dancers asked if anyone wanted to join them on stage, to learn the dance with them. 

Immediately, your eyes were back on your plate, the last picking of your meal still in place as you moved your spoon around them again. Smiling as you did so, making sure not to draw any attention. You sure as hell weren't going up there. No way in hell. 

Seokjin was already standing up. 

When you realised that simple fact, your mouth practically fell to the floor. Your head already shaking when he offered you a hand. You already knew you were going to reject the offer, of course you were– you can’t dance. Not like professionals. 

So… why did you accept? And why did you have the time of your life, giggling and laughing with Seokjin as the dancers led you through the simplest Tinikling movements. 

Locking eyes with him, a bright smile across both of your faces when your duo show actually began– a slowed down version of the real thing, but more than enough for you nonetheless. The moment feeling just, unreal. Like you and him conducting yourself in the same space just had to be fake. A mimic of what could actually happen, rather than what is already in motion by the universe. 

He bowed to you, once the show was over and kissed you knuckles like it meant something real. 

Many times after that night you had to remind yourself it didn’t mean anything, no matter how much your heart was betraying you saying you wanted it to. 

Seokjin is a secret agent. Not just a regular fuck boy, but an international one. And you, you’re just a computer science grad student who will live the rest of her life in a boring office job with no excitement. This is all just, fake. A dream that will eventually come crumbling down when you are no longer in danger. 

“Mmm, the neighbourhood kids are playing in the water again.” You explain, ignoring his proximity as his head hovers above your left shoulder. His body close enough that you can feel the heat of it, but definitely far enough that he isn’t touching you. 

You can practically hear the smile in the tone, “Your instincts kicking back in again?”

“Shut up.” Your lips curl just a little, your frame leaning back to shove him lightly before returning to your normal position, “It was just nice being young like that.” 

He hums in acknowledgement, “I made breakfast, if you want any.” 

You want to roll your eyes just a little, “Is it any good?” 

“Of course.” 

“Hardly believable.” You scoff, but you’re already following him to the kitchen island where he has a meal fit for a queen displayed. There isn’t a queen though, just you.

“I think I remember you salivating the first time you had a bite of my cooking.” He pulls out your chair, waiting for you to make the movement to plop down before circling around the counter. Standing on it opposite of you. 

“Oh?” You hum, acting entirely too calm on purpose. Just meticulously filling your plate while pretending your stomach isn’t growling at the mere thought of eating any of it, “Must be thinking of another pretty girl you brought to the safehouse.”

“Mhmm, no. I think I'd remember the moans of the pretty girl across from me.” 

Heat is already in your cheeks, calm exterior squashed in a second as indignant takes over you, “I was not! Moaning!” 

A squeaky, high pitched laugh takes over the room. His hands raising to placate, but he does nothing of the sort, “Of course not, you definitely didn’t hit me with a spatula afterwards either.” 

“You deserved that!” You point a finger at him, raising out of your seat slightly. 

He laughs again, his cheeks high and bright. An evil voice tells you to pinch them and coo, but the louder one keeps shushing it down. 

It’s getting harder to, though. Shushing it down, that is. Especially the voice that tells you to kiss him. 

Your cheeks feel even warmer at the thought, but if he notices he doesn’t comment. Probably thinking it’s just your rage– yeah, obviously it is. Obviously it’s that and not you never wanting this moment to end. 

“Totally! Totally did!” He’s still laughing, still looking down at you with that fond expression. 

“You did!” Exasperated, you insist, “You challenged me to a cooking competition! You knew what you were doing!” 

He gasps, hand clutched over his chest, aghast. “I would never!” 

But he can’t hide that smile– he never seems to be able to when he’s acting all playful with you. Another one of the reasons he’s caused your heart to grow weak over these past few weeks.

“You– You!!” You start, yet aren’t entirely sure where the whole thing is going. 

Only sure that you never want this moment to end. Any of this to ever end. 

“When are you going to stop pretending?” 

And just like that, with one simple question from your lips, the entire energy of the mini yacht shifts as it flies through the water. Seokjin at the wheel, you relaxing against the bench seat behind him. Head propped on your arms as you stare out at the water behind you, waves crashing due to the powerful engine. 

Today is just as any other would be during your month-long stint on the island. You woke up, went out to the beaches to look at some shells while Seokjin met with his co-workers at the agency. You come back for lunch, he tells you about what they discussed. What they’re doing behind the scenes because he apparently hates keeping even the smallest details from you. Wants to make sure you’re just as involved in him since it is your safety on the line. 

Apparently, he doesn’t care so much about his own. 

Any other day, you might go to the markets afterwards. Work on some of your coursework online, or go snorkeling in the water as you’ve been working on getting your license for it. But today, today Seokjin wanted to take you out. He had something planned, something fun, he had claimed. 

And just a minute ago, everything had been wonderful. He had been poorly singing karaoke behind the wheel (obviously in a joking manner, you’ve heard him sing properly before and know how good he is). Then, the world had been light. Gulls had been calling overhead while the sun set over the horizon. Everything had been… it had been good. It had been peaceful.

What started it, the shift in the energy around you? You’re not sure. You’re not sure, but you have been thinking lately. Maybe thinking too much. Getting in your head, twisting things around. 

You had already decided your heart is too involved with all of this. With the man standing in front of you, white shirt billowing behind him. With the idea of being with him long term. Of not wanting him to leave from your own life.

But you know he will. One day or another, this will all be over. 

He’s only been acting like this because he put your life in danger, right? Because he feels indebted to you for getting you wrapped up in whatever scheme all of this is? He doesn’t actually care that it’s you here. If it was anyone else, he’d do the same. 

Because he’s a secret agent, and you’re just a grad student. And time and time again, people have proven to you that they only want things from you. 

No one would freely give the way Seokjin does. Sooner or later, he’ll want something, too. 

Sooner or later this dream will be over and you’ll never see him again. 

Both of those facts can’t be anything other than true– and you knew that from the start, so why did you let him twist cables around your heart? Spark cables in your head that haven’t seen electricity since you were in college and still had those silly notions of hopeless romanticism wrapped up inside of your head? 

You should have left up more walls. Should’ve done a lot more to separate yourself from the polar opposite world you can never indulge in. You should’ve done so many things differently. 

You just feel tired. You feel so confused. 

You need to know. Need to be done with this whole game.

Seokjin, for his part, pauses entirely at your question. The once carefree nature surrounding him halting in its entirety, confusion swirling in its place as he glances back at you. Not finding your face, only your back as you stare at the horizon line. 

Slowly, you feel the boat draw to a halt, hear steps tracing towards you as he sits down on the bench to your side. 

“What do you mean?” He asks calmly, traced. Though you’re probably just looking into it too much. You’ve been looking into everything too much. 

You only shrug, not looking at him. Keeping your vision trained on the edge of the cove you find yourselves in. Lights from restaurants blearing together as they sit in the distance.

“I can’t understand if you don’t talk to me, you know that.” He urges again in that gentle, guiding way he always seems to do when he knows you're struggling with what to say. Never annoyed or angry, even when you went quiet for 3 days due to your worry over your family back at home, just… coaxing. Caring. 

You know if you didn’t respond again, he would accept it. Would just give your leg a little pat, give you that almost sad smile as he tells you that he’ll be there when you’re ready. Would drop it in a heartbeat. 

But you didn’t want him to. You’ve been dealing with this internal dilemma in small ways the entire month you’ve been out here with him. You need it over and corrected so you can stop thinking too into things. Can stop imagining things for what they are not.

So instead, you turn to him. Your expression placid as if you’re just talking about the weather, not anything serious. “I just mean, like, when are you going to stop pretending any of this is real?” 

His head cocks back a little. His lips souring at the corners as if he’s taken aback. 

Why would he be? You don’t get it. You know this is fake, that he’s just been leading you on this whole time because he wants something. Has only been doing nice things because he has something to gain from it. Only hangs out with you because he feels guilty. So why would he seem almost… almost offended? 

“What do you mean?” He asks, repeating the same question as before, “All of this is real.”

You scoff, the bitter edge you’ve been attempting to hide bubbling to the surface, “Please, you don’t have to keep lying.” 

“I’m not. I’m being serious, Y/n. What are you talking about? What is going on?” Worry is evident in your tone. Where most guys would start to get mad, would get accusatory, of course Kim Seokjin would only seem concerned for you. 

C’mon. It’s getting ridiculous. 

Now, you meet his eyes, “So you’re telling me, all of this has been real?” You scoff again, unable to hide it as you cross your arms over your chest, “So you’re trying to tell me, every flirt, every time you’ve acted like you’ve cared. All of that has been real?”

“Of course it has been.” The defense is automatic, “Why would any of it not be?”

Your annoyance with this whole thing is only growing. You know you didn’t misinterpret anything. You know it. So why is he acting like a saint? Why is he dragging you through the pits of hell making you– making you feel things? “You’re really not just going to admit it. Really.”

“Y/n. I don’t know what you want me to say.” Sincerity. That’s the only thing you can see in him and it makes you a little worried. Makes your heart beat in a compulsory manner that it never had found itself imploring in ever before. 

His hand reaching out, taking your own doesn’t help in the slightest either, “I don’t know what you’ve gone through, but I’ve never lied to you. Never.”

The withdrawal of your hand is automatic, a reply rebuttal biting at your lips but… you draw a blank. In all the years, all the summers you’ve known Kim Seokjin, you honestly can’t come up with a single time he’s lied to you. 

On your first ever meeting he had introduced himself as a secret agent. 

Why the hell would he do that? 

“Right, right. Totally.” You’re defensive anyway. It’s the only emotion you can process, the only one that doesn’t leave you swimming in confusion over questions you cannot answer or dipping into resolutions that could never be true. “So what do you expect out of all of this then? What’s the end goal?” 

With a wave of your hand around the general surroundings, you can tell his patience is waning. Baseless accusations would do that, you guess. But so would being called out on your bullshit. 

“To keep you sa–” 

You cut him off, not processing your actions before you’re already acting. Becoming hostile, maybe a little volatile because that’s easier than anything else. Letting your mouth run without thinking has always been the easiest thing, 

“Keep me safe, right. Right.” You roll your eyes, your back now up straight, ready for a confrontation, “And then after that? You just dump me back at home and then never talk to me again?”

His face twists even further in confusion, if that were at all possible. His own form still slouched slightly, not at all in the same defensive stance as you find yourself to be. 

“What? No– No.” He enunciates twice, making sure he’s heard. That he’s known in his convictions, “That was never the plan. I would never do some–”

You’re tired of this, tired of all of it. Turns out an exhausted heart leads to an open mouth, “Then what was the plan Seokjin?! Because the way I see it, there isn’t another one. I’m going to go home, finish school and you’re going to travel the world and do– do spy shit. What other plan could there be? Honestly. Don’t bullshit me.” 

“I’m not bullshitting!” For the first time since you’ve known him, he raises his voice. The words coming out just a bit louder than normal, though you can’t blame him. The kettle would have to boil over eventually. 

Though, he doesn’t keep it up. Not in the slightest. Instead, he takes a second. Breathes in, breathes out. Recenters himself. Takes time with what he’s going to say next while you just… sit there. Sit there and take him in as you finally get yourself to admit the fact that you actually like him.

You like Kim Seokjin. 

“Listen, I don’t know what made you think any different, but I would never abandon you. I like you too much for that,” You make a move to cut him off again, but he puts one hand up to stop you. You’re surprised when you listen, “I was going to tell you when we guaranteed your safety, but the plan was for me to offer you a job at the agency. If you didn’t want to join, I would have given you my number either way. I would have made sure we stayed in contact.”

“What?” A job at his agenc– he likes you?! Oh, okay. So this is what it feels like to have a system overload. Okay. Cool. 

This is too much information at once. 

“We were going to offer you a job?” He repeats, giving you one thing to focus on instead, already knowing your brain.  

“How– what the hell would I even do there? I’m not cut out to be a fucking spy, Seokjin.”

“No, but a girl who could have somehow gotten into the NSA servers definitely puts you on the radar of organizations like mine.” 

Lips part wide and he closes them with a hand on your chin, worried you may catch flies, “You– What?! How did you know about that?! I was in like– like high school!” 

He can only smile, “Yeah, and it took a long time to figure out who you were. Your encryption was top notch for someone so young.”

You fold in on yourself, leaning over your knees as you rest your chin against your hands, “You’re crazy, this is crazy.”

He tilts his head a little, knowing little smirk on his face, “C’mon, you didn’t think it was a little suspicious I hung out at the pool  for so long? Only talked to you?”

You shrug, “I thought you just wanted to fuck me.” 

“Oh.” A little bit of a pink blush colours his cheeks before he’s waving his hand in the air, dismissing it, “That, too. Also take you on dates but–” 

Oh, that sour feeling is back. The one that likes to eat you up inside just a little, “So I was right, then?” “No.” He clarifies immediately, making sure it’s known, “I was going to confess properly once we got back to the docks and you could see the fireworks I had plann–”

“You planned fireworks?!” Your eyes light up, bright and wide. 

“Yes, but–” 

“Let’s go! Let’s go now!” You’re already standing. One hand grasping his, attempting to tug him towards the wheel but he’s immoveable, it’s like tugging a pound of bricks. 

“Wait, wait. Calm down!” He scolds, though it doesn’t really feel like he means it. With one gentle shake, his hand is dislodged from your own and your hands are crossing over your chest. One foot impatiently tutting against the floor. 

“I think we need to talk about why you were feeling like this to begin with before we get into any of that,” He explains and you, you practically droop. Huffing and puffing as you slide back into your seat, position awkward as you’re slumped as far as you can down into the soft cushion. 

“It’s important to vocalise them– yeah, yeah. I know.” You humph, staring at a random spot on the floor, “I’d rather not, though.” 

“You don’t have to now.” He offers, “Just, sometime soon.”

“I know. But I should now. I should if…” Your cheeks begin to heat again, “I just need to know if you’re playing with my feelings or not. And I need you to be honest. Really honest because that’s what I’m used to and it’s tiring and you’re the first person in a long time I’ve felt something like this about and it’s all just–”

“Too good to be true?” He asks and you just nod, still refusing to look at him. Still acting a little petulant though he knows you don’t really mean to be, “I thought the same thing, too. When I was getting to know you that first summer”

Your eyes slowly trail from the deck floor to the embroidered cushions. To his long legs, up his chest until finally reaching his eyes. The soft expression inside of them, “Really?”

“Really. I would never mess with your feelings. I would never act on something that wasn’t real for me. We’ve been with each other for a month straight now, you know? You’re smart. I know you’ve seen that.” 

“... I kinda just thought you were… acting?”

“You think I’m that good of an actor, huh?” 

Your eyes roll, “Shut up.” 

“Fine, fine.” He lets out a soft chuckle. The sun finally set, the only thing illuminating him being the overhead light of the boat. It feels… the same, in some ways, as that night almost 2 months ago. The fluorescence of the deck light reflecting in his hair the same way the overhead lights at the pool had gleamed. 

But now, as opposed to then, he’s leaning just a bit closer. His eyes glancing between your lips and your eyes. A magnetic energy neither of you can really explain pulling him closer, closer. 

“Is there anything I can do to prove it to you?” His voice is a hair huskier now. Just a little bit deeper as his breath mingles against your own. 

“Ye–”

Ah. 

It is rather unfortunate, that over the sounds of your conversation, you both entirely miss the ringing off his phone until it’s too late. 

Until the beeping of the bomb on the underside of the vessel has already imploded. 

Before you can finish the word, everything has changed. Everything in a matter of seconds has changed and there is nothing, nothing that can be done to reverse it. 

One second, you’re leaning in for a kiss. The next? You’re fighting against the currents of black ocean water, flaming ship pieces surrounding you as you fight to find the surface for air. 

Your head clouded, far away as you try to gain a sense of your surroundings. Your ears ringing high pitched and loud due to the noise, your vision– if you were able to see anything– spotted with flecks of white due to the light. 

You’re not thinking– you can’t think at all. Nothing is processing around you. Nothing but the innate urge to find the surface before the air in your lungs leaves you completely. Before you’re swallowed up in the darkness of the night, no one knowledgeable about the cause of the foreign ‘couple’s’ disappearance. 

Beating against the current the explosion caused, you force your way up and up and up– though, determining the direction itself is difficult enough. Calming your nerves as they begin to panic more and more is a challenge in itself, but something in your brain forces you to. Something deep seeded– the innate will to live makes you keep moving.

Even when you think you have no energy, even when shock makes your limbs feel numb, you keep fighting. 

You always have been a fighter. 

But air is so limited under the water– you know that well enough. Your training has made you sure of it. 

Time feels slower, but the clock is only ticking more and more as you kick your useless limbs, your clothes weighing you down. 

Your lungs burn. Your energy is depleting faster than you could account for. Then anything could account for. 

You don’t know if you can. You don’t– Fuck. 

Your head breaks though the waves, lungs swallowing up gulps of air as water continues to sweep over your head, keeps trying to pull you back under. But in between each movement of the tide, you breach again, pulling more air into your burning lungs. Swallowing water, spitting it out. Coughing as your throat continues to try and betray you, attempting to let water invade your trachea. 

But still, still you continue to fight. Even as your eyes burn, you scan the bay around you, try to spot any sight of him among the burning wreckage. No more than a dark blog bouncing among the waves.

“Seokjin!” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own– horse and wrecked as another wave topples overhead, dragging you under until there is another lull in the tides. 

Breaching the surface, another series of hacks leave your lungs, but you don’t pay it any mind. You just keep yelling his name, keep searching for him even though it seems hopeless. Even though your limbs are becoming tired– even though you should be trying to find shelter rather than conducting a fruitless search to find the man in the dark. 

But you can’t help it, gods, you really can’t. 

Something primal in you, something desperate and scared can’t stop. Something terrible, and scared and almost nauseating causes you to keep searching. Something deep and dark welling in the pit of your stomach, something that you know will eat you whole if you don’t. 

The panic attack starts before you’re fully aware of it. Not due to concern for your own safety, of the fear of the waves pulling you under, but for his. 

Your breathing picks up, your limbs feel like lead. You can’t hear anything over the ringing in your ears and your own heartbeat. But regardless, regardless of any danger you take a deep breath and shove your head under the water of your own volition. 

Your eyes burn as you scan around, as you attempt to see anything in the dark. Stay under until your lungs burn for air once again. Until you’re on the brink of passing out before you surface once more, shouting his name again and again. Desperation on the edge of your voice, tears in your eyes. 

You can’t hold it back. You’ve never been one to cry. But now. You sob. 

Your entire frame shaking as you still stay above the waves, your voice cracking as it calls for him– screams for him. Your vision spotting with black as your air intake flatlines, your entire body on the verge of passing out as you panic more and more. 

You don’t feel hands until they’re on you. You don’t even realise you’re being lifted out of the water until you’re placed onto the floor of a dingy. Don’t process anything until the face of a man is in front of you. 

“Hey. Hey!” He’s shouting at you slightly, shaking your shoulders. You guess he’s trying to get your attention. Guess he’s trying to get you to focus on anything but whatever is bubbling out from deep inside of you. 

You guess you liked Seokjin more than you were ever willing to admit. 

Like. Like him. Because he’s still alive. He has to be.

If you’re still breathing after that, he has to be, too. 

Slowly, the tv static fades. Slowly you can see the face in front of you– past the tears bubbling in your vision. Slowly, you can make out the words he’s saying over the tinnitus in your ears. 

“Hey!” He shouts again, just as your eyes slowly start to focus. Just as you begin to feel your arms again. 

Suddenly, you’re faced with his side profile, his movements a little too fast to process for your current state. His brown hair wiping around as he speaks a timbre, voice a little panicked, too, as he cusses, head turning back to you. “영어를 하지 않나요?”

It feels like your eyes are a camera moving in and out of focus. The figure in front of you blurring and unblurring as he moves around. Moving too quickly, but also in slow motion at the same time. 

“Are you okay?” He tries again, one of his hands squeezing your shoulder while his eyes trace over your face carefully. Trying to gauge how much attention you need. “I need you to talk to me!” 

Another shake, and somehow, for some reason, you snap back to reality. The fog fading all too quickly, everything feeling too real once again. 

“Jin.” You whisper to yourself, eyes focusing on the waves behind whoever is in front of you now.

“What?” They ask again, but you can’t really see them. Hear them. Process him other than the fact he’s standing between you and jumping in the water to keep looking for Seokjin. 

“Seokjin!” Suddenly, you’re yelling again. Arm coming up, roughly pushing away the firm body in front of you. Shocking him with your sudden manic state, your body moving past him until you’re holding onto the edge of the boat. 

“Seokjin!!!” You’re screaming at the top of your lungs hoping for anything, hoping for any kind of response as the boat continues to speed along among the wreckage. 

Hands are around you again, but the sudden adrenaline in you shakes them off. Managing yourself as close to the edge of the boat as your shaky legs would allow. “Fuck! Hyung! Help me!” 

There’s a commotion behind you– cussing and stumbling over the deck as you continue to kick and press away. A whole wrestling match you don’t even realise is occurring until there are two strong arms around your waist– bigger than the set before– pulling you back against a firm chest until he falls to his ass, you toppling right along with him.

“A-Asshole!” You struggle, nails gripping into the flesh of his forearms as you attempt to pry yourself away. Kicking, twisting, squirming. “Asshole! Let go of me you fucking asshole!” 

“Calm–” He’s huffing, clearing from effort. It looks like even in your ragged state, you can put up quite the fight, “Calm down. We’re friends of Jin-hyungs, we were trying to contact you about the attack– We’re looking for him. Fuck! That hurt! You need to calm–” You see him.

At least, you think you do. 

You see something. A blob that looks like something that could be him laying motionless against a piece of wreckage. The burning of a nearby fire enough to set what looks like his black, wet mop aglow. 

But it’s enough for you. 

Before you know you’re even moving, your elbow is flying back behind you, right into the man’s ribcage with all the strength you have in your body. Hard, pointy– edged with desperation that cannot be matched. 

He sputters, coughs as his arms loosen just enough for you to scramble free. Your vision locked on him, gaze is a pinhole that can see nothing but him. 

You’re already running forward, past the other man that tries to catch you– tries to stop you on your mission. Just in time, you dodge under his waiting grasp. Body running into a dive off the edge of the ship. 

You hear a bit of cussing, a scramble behind you, but you don’t care. You need to get to Seokjin, whose dangles dangerously close to the water's edge face down. You need to check his pulse. You need to make sure he’s still breathing. That he’s alright. 

Your arms are flying in front of you, your training kicking in more than anything else as you fly through the water. As you do everything in your power to get to him. 

You can only breathe when he’s in front of you. When you lift his head from the water, your legs hardly keeping you afloat. When you see that it is, in fact, him and not just some sort of hallucination. 

Your heart feels lighter. 

It only takes a second though, for the rest of you to kick back in. The sounds of the boat's engine are nearing, so you won’t have to wait long until he is truly safe. In the meantime, one of your hands check his pulse, the other resting on the debris to keep the impact of your treading legs to a minimum. His head propped on your shoulder, keeping his solemn, slightly blue skin out of the depths below. 

His pulse is quiet, struggling. But there. 

Your brain continues to pulse providing you with an endless stream of information. The diving reflex would’ve kicked in the second he passed out, but it can only last for so long. If he inhaled any water, you can only hope it was in the moments before you arrived.

He isn’t breathing, but he still has a pulse. 

You have time. 

You have a few minutes until… until…

No. He’s fine. 

When the boat arrives not 3 seconds later, you take charge immediately. Barking out instructions, shouting out what to do to the two men on board. Making sure Seokjin is inside, laying down flat on his back. Making sure you’re right there with him. 

“Fucking get us to a hospital!” You lean over Seokjin, eyes glancing over him every which way you can for only a second before you begin to move. 

One hand reaches up to pinch his nostrils, to make sure his airway is shut. The other tilting his chin up, making sure his head is extending up at a 90 degree angle. Your lungs fill with air as you inhale deep into the base of your diaphragm. 

Your lips encase his entirely as you lean down, inhaling your air into his own body. Giving him one, wait, two, rescue breaths before pulling back. Before tracing your hands right above his heart, making sure the heel of your palm is firmly in place. 

You hate this part. But it’s necessary. 

You put the entire weight of your body into the chest compressions. Counting along as you do them, performing the beat of a song in your head as you lift up and press down over and over again.

It’s a violent, ugly thing. It always is. The amount of pressure needed to reach the heart is always more than the average person expects– it’s not a rare thing to break ribs in the process, for the person receiving compressions to vomit, either. But you, you don’t even process if you manage to do such a thing. You just adjust, act accordingly. Maybe tilt his head to let anything that needs to come out, come out, you’re not really sure.

Just keep going along with the motions, keep sputtering along between compressions and rescue breaths to make sure he keeps living. 

To make sure you can confess to him properly and then hit him for making you so worried. 

Even after one haphazard gasp on his own, you keep going. It’s a good sign. One you needed. The extra push you needed to keep going. 

Only stopping once he finally takes over breathing on his own, rolling him onto his side with a little force just in case anything else unwanted spills from his lips. Your hand rubbing over his back as you try to bring oxygen into your own lungs, as you watch his expression for any slight change. 

At some point, the boat stops at another larger vessel. Another man– a lot scrawnier than the first two– climbing aboard with the heavy briefcase. Bringing his attention to Seokjin immediately. 

You move out of the way slightly, but in no way do you leave his side. 

A doctor from his company you guess, or maybe hope. No, no. He is. Has to be with the way he begins to check Seokjin over. Feels for a pulse, checking his breathing with a stethoscope properly. 

Thankfully, colour already began to return to his expression during the ride. The warm glow of his skin returning, replacing the sickly pale. His fingers twitching ever so slightly whenever your nails scratched softly instead of just rubbed. 

He was coming back. 

Slowly, but he was coming back. 

You guess it could’ve been a lot worse. Are sure of it, especially when Seokjin opens his eyes just a little bit. His hazy expression looking for nothing you. 

The corners of his cracked lips quirking just slightly as he lets out a quiet, shaky– but still there, still real, “Hey.”

That is the second time you cry, thanks to Kim Seokjin. 

He coughs a few times, sputtering as he takes in a few shaky inhales, his lips quirking up just the slightest bit at the corner “You gave me the CPR, with… with the chest compressions, too, though… That better not… not count as our first kiss.”

And that, that is the thousandth time in your life, that you want to hit him. But instead, you just let yourself feel complete and utter joy. 

“Yah! I’m fine, I’m fine!” Seokjin urges, shoving two men out of the door. Taehyung, who you later learned was one of the men on the boat with you that night a week ago, whining up a storm while Jeongguk continues to attempt to force more bags of food into your boyfr– into Seokjin’s hands. 

Boyfr, because after his almost-drowning, the two of you haven’t had much time to finally have “the talk” that has been itching at the walls of your house. Between his discharge from his company's medical center, to his friends constant concerned pestering, you haven’t gotten much of a chance of anything with him. Much less the talk. 

And tonight, tonight it is supposed to happen. You thank every greater being above for that because honestly, the idea of not knowing has been causing you to want to tear your hand out strand by strand and knit a scarf with it. 

You know so many people who like to live in the safety of not knowing, but with Seokjin, you think you’d rather die. 

But of course, of course, you’ve been good. So good. So patient even though it’s driving you crazy. The worst part! It seems like the only one who has been able to see it is the doctor, Min Yoongi! You would hate it if any of them were able to see it, but especially him.

That knowing little smirk he gives you whenever your time with Seokjin is interrupted by another one of his 6 friends showing up… He doesn’t even do anything to get rid of them until you’re all flustered up and annoyed! 

But you’re being so normal about it, you swear. Even when your sweet reunion after he woke up properly was interrupted by Jeongguk rushing in and hugging him before you could. Or when you two were about to kiss while he was still in recovery and Hoseok walked in demanding his hyung beat him in mario cart. 

You’re so normal about it and totally not scratching at the walls of your enclosure because Seokjin deserves to have his loved ones around, and his best friends deserve to have time with him too after the incident took place. Especially when they had tried to warn you about it first, when they had been there in the blink of an eye to save you two. 

You guess you owe a little bit of your life to them. So you can’t be mad at them. Not really. Just… you want to be able to call yourself Seokjin’s girlfriend already, okay?!

With the slam of a door and a quiet huff, you’re met with Seokjin’s unfortunately gorgeous face. A calm, placid smile on his lips, though the slight scrunch of his eyebrows meanders about a different story. 

Your heart beats hard. Maybe you’re not the only one desperate for a little alone time. 

“So, where were we?” He asks, though you can tell his voice is edged with a bit of annoyance tonight. Like he had just been interrupted from the most important thing in the world– something he’s done a million times before– dinner with you. 

You’re frozen in your spot for a second, your eyes slowly tracing down his figure. The way his formal suit is pressed precisely, tucked into the waistband of his slacks with grace. The way his arms sit at his sides, his the veins in his forearms expressive as they trace lines under his skin. 

The way his fingers twitch, causing the muscle in his arms to pulse. To press against his sleeves rolled up around his elbows. 

You listen closely– ears instinctively checking just for a second of any other voices that may be around. The voices that continued to impress against your vulnerable moments with him all week. And for the first time… you hear absolutely none. 

… Maybe that talk can wait. 

Your eyes trail a bit lower, and yep. Yes, it definitely can. 

In a matter of seconds, any reservation you may have had crumbles entirely. In a few decisive steps, you cross the room. You stand right in front of him as you place a hand on his shoulder. Look at him like you’re about to tell him the most treasured secret the world may ever hold. 

Instead, with a firm tone of voice, not wavering in the slightest, you utter a few magic words, “Seokjin. If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to burn down this island with everyone in it.” 

God, the conviction in your expression must be comical. 

Seokjin blinks. Once. Twice. Before he doubles over laughing. Squeaky high pitched sound that you’ve grown to like more than anything else filling the air as he topples over himself. As he lets himself feel the brightest he’s felt since he first saw you upon waking up.

You, on the other hand, your cheeks instantly grow hot as you realise what you've just done. 

You’re humiliated. 

This blunder will fall to your children, your children’s children. You will be the laughing stock of generations. 

“I’m being serious!” Oh god, why couldn’t you just close your big mouth. Why did you have to double down instead of just falling on the sword given to you. 

Before you’re able to process it, take it back and run away, he’s stepping closer himself. His chest a mere foot away as one of his hands raises, resting just under the curve of your chin. Tilting your head up just slightly to look back at his own face, little puffs of air still leaving his lungs. 

“Ah, my apologies. My apologies.” He smiles, leaning down. Closing the space little by little, inching closer and closer. Closing his eyes, leaning in.

Oh. His lips are on yours. 

You’re unsure why you hadn’t processed this as an outcome of your request, but now that it’s occurring, you’re not sure that you’ve ever felt anything better. Aren’t sure you ever want him to pull away. 

Somehow, all at the same time, his lips feel like fireworks dancing among the stars. Like the sea breeze billowing through the safehouse every morning. Like calm serenity and the dance of a thousand stars swirling up inside of you all at once. 

You never knew something like a simple kiss after time waiting away was meant to feel like this, but now that you know it does, you could never manage to pull away. Not in your wildest dreams or darkest nightmares could you remove yourself from this moment. 

Your hands move for you as they move to press against his chest. Nails twisting into the fabric of his shirt as you pull him closer, as you stumble backwards slightly. One of his own moving to your hip to keep you steady, to keep you from leaving him. 

You’re not sure who makes the move first, but eventually your lips are sliding open slightly along with his, though instead of deepening the kiss, taking it further, you feel his teeth against you. Nipping at your bottom lip, teasing you. 

You whine– a petulant little sound. One hand detaching to whack his chest, while his thumb only soothes your hip as if to apologise. 

Both of you know he’s not really sorry, but he pretends anyway. Pulling away just slightly, though not backing away enough to leave you fully. Continuously pecking little kisses to your lips while you chase him back. Only becoming more grouchy every time he pulls away.

“Mmm, you’re right.” He mumbles, unable to keep the smile off of his lips as his finger remains under your chin. His head dipping back down to plant another series of kisses against your pout-puffed lips. 

“You’re just!” You try, “So mean!” Keep trying, “To me!” You manage out between kisses. 

His smile only growing wider. His form leading you back into the primary bedroom slowly coaxing you as he presses into your frame, knocking you just a little bit further each time as you move backwards towards the space unknowingly. 

“Am I?” Another breathless chuckle is against his tongue, and you want to scream, “You’re right, I have been mean, huh?” 

Oh. Okay. So when the fuck did he have the time between mocking you to let his voice get all deeply and husky?! Soft and terribly sinful?! What the fuck is this shit! You’re going to throw an uprising! He shouldn’t be allowed to act like–

Your thoughts are cut off as your back hits the mattress, the palm of his hand holding the back of your head to make sure it doesn’t land too roughly against the harsh surface. His frame hovering above yours, one knee on the bed between your slightly spread legs. 

When… When did he have the time to do this? How.. how didn’t you notice it?

Your tongue suddenly feels heavy in your mouth as you look up at him. That cocky, self serving little grin on his lips like he knows he’s got you. 

He does. But you would never admit that. Couldn’t at the risk of his ego growing even larger. You’re not sure the world could survive if it did.

“I– Yes!” You paw at his chest, your voice coming out weaker than you would have intended it to, “You have been! I’ve been nothing but good–” Oh god.

The air is robbed from your lungs at the shift that occurs before you.

His eyelids crest close just slightly, his expression morphing as he pulls the line of his lips just a little bitter tighter. Everything about him appearing just a bit sharper, just a bit more in control. 

Are you fucked? You think you might just be. 

“Oh?” The sound barely leaves him, no more than a wisp of air, “You like being good? Fascinating.” 

He leans closer, one soft kiss landing at your collar bone, the next dropping lower and lower until he’s kissing the top of your breast. At the skin just exposed above the bust of your dress. 

You feel hot everywhere. 

“You know,” He trails his lips along the lining of your dress, “I always took you for someone who wanted to fight back,” One of his hands, the one that was against the back of your head, now starts at your knee. Slowly trails up until it’s just lightly stroking under the hem of your dress, slowly pushing it up as it moves. 

“I guess I was wrong,” The slight shrug of his shoulders almost leaves you feeling defeated, though the gasp of your lips as he touches your upper thigh sends a different, more fiery feeling down your spine. “You’ll be good and listen to me, won’t you?” 

The silly, lighthearted Seokjin you once knew is no more. In his place? A man that makes you feel like a doll. A pretty thing meant to be played with. A dominant force that resists being toyed with– that can open the gates of heaven so long as you’re good and welcome it with a smile on your face and a plea in your heart. 

A man you want to push the buttons of– to see how far you can poke and prod before he decides to set you on course. 

Wait. 

No, you want his praise. Want all of it. Want to be the center of his world and his attention and take all he has to offer. 

The devils on your shoulder at war as you fight with yourself. Both sides equally valid in their desires. So contrasting as half wants to force him onto the bed and grind against his thigh– use him to make yourself feel good while the other wants you to lay placid and beg him to eat you out. 

There are too many decisions and not enough time. Not enough at all.

Hm. Can’t you be a little selfish and have both?

Be just a little bad and beg for forgiveness later? 

Yeah, yeah. You think you can. You think you can if you just play your cards– “Ah!”

A moan leaves your lips before you can stop it, your head kicking back harshly. A sharp pressure of pleasure right against your cunt causing both of your legs to kick out. A harsh press of a thumb to your clit sending your mind reeling.

While you were so caught up in your own head, Seokjin had managed to climb higher and higher until he was right against you. Poor little head so lost in too many decisions that it couldn’t even see the wolf moving in towards its meal.

“There you are, pretty. Back with me I see,” The chuckle in his voice is evident and it seems like your decision has already been made because of it, “Got too distracted, didn’t you? It’s okay. I’ll take care of it all, won’t I?” 

Yeah. The brattiness won. You want to fight back.

You whine out, quiet and high pitched as your hips start to grind against his thumb. The skirt of your dress pushed high against your hips, your thighs acting like they’re a little shaky as you move. Your hands reaching out, tangling themselves into his hair as you urge him upwards towards your lips. “Wanna be good…”

Urge him to face you head on, even if he doesn’t know it yet. 

Lucky for you, he concedes, moving up along with the little tugs of his hair, giving you a soft, controlled smile as you tuck him against your neck. 

It’s only then that you finally put your plan into action. 

In one swift motion, you attempt to take him by surprise– attempt being the key word, because it appears he already knew your plan from a mile away. 

When you try to flip him, to press him down into the mattress, he lets you. Lets you think you’ve had your victory. Let’s you hold both of his hands in yours as you sit across his lap, dress skirt splayed across the both of you.

But just when you would call victory, decide your conquest is complete and begin your grinding against his crotch, he makes it known what he thinks of this little… performance you’ve decided to put on. “What are you gonna do– Ah!”

Within one second, you’re on your stomach. Your knees clattering against the ground as your upper half is forced against the mattress, held in place by his large form behind you, trapping you in. Making sure you have no exit while one of his hands pins both arms behind your back. 

“Wrong move.” His breath is in your ear, entire frame leaning over yours, making it known just how much stronger he is than you, making it known that he would never do anything to hurt you by the gentleness of his touch against your wrists. “What are you going to do now?”

The answer should be obvious, you should’ve had a plan, but unfortunately for you, it seems like all roads lead to Rome. All roads would’ve led to this outcome, and you had no way out of it. 

“Ah…” You pant slightly, body still wiggling, still trying to press out of his grip as you attempt to consolidate your losses, “I-I was just playing Jin! Y-Y’know just playful me, being playful!” 

His grip grows tighter around your wrists, and you feel your panties start to become wet with slick. “Wrong again.” He scoffs, a little indignant. A lot more in control than you could ever think he could be. “Do you want to keep lying? Or tell the truth and make this a little better for yourself?” 

You whine, continuing to squirm. A lot more turned on than you ever thought you could or would be from this situation, from having him pin you against a bed. Still, your brattiness works against you, makes you want to lie and scheme to get your way out of any messes you’ve planted yourself in, “I’m not lying! It’s the truth!” 

“Really?” This time he leans back, but just when you think he’s about to let up, instead he flips your skirt up, exposing your panties to the room. A little wet patch formed right against the center, making itself known as heat burns in your cheeks, arousal at being displayed like this, clear, “Because it looked like to me you were planning on trying to get me all tied up so you could rub this messy little thing against my cock, right?” 

He leans in, inspecting your underwear. Pressure on your lower back still ceasing your movement, keeping you still other than the squirming of your hips. The ladder issue quickly resolved when Seokjin’s hand presses firmly down on your ass, locking your knees against the floor. 

At his words, your cunt flutters around nothing– you can’t help it, well and truly. Your eyes closing as you try to will it away, to stop from proving him right, but in the end, there’s really no hope. 

“Rules.” His voice suddenly cuts through the air, pulling you out of your toppling state. Only drawing you out of your psyche due to the important tone his voice takes on, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin attempting to zero you in, to bring you back to earth. “Do you have a safe word, pretty?”

You nod your head slowly, turning back to look at him. Heat covering your cheeks as you try to will your voice to respond to him. “It’s okay, It’s not embarrassing. I need to know.” 

“S-Stoplight system.” You force out, and the soft smile he gives is almost worth it. 

“Good. Remember to communicate with me. If you want to slow down and take it at your pace, we can.” He hums, looking down at your panties. At the red fabric stretched taught over your skin. He plays with the hem slightly, testing it. Tugging it upwards ever so slightly, watching it disappear between your cheeks. Wondering how it would look stretched between the lips of your cunt instead. “Contraception?”

“O-on birth control.” You mumble out, breathier than before. The slight tugging enough to give just a little bit of stimulation to your clit. Enough for you to start feeling that pulsing at the base of your spine, that soft soreness in your chest. 

Though before you’re given even a second to bask in it, your frame is being jostled. Your spine being pulled up by your hands, your frame spinning before you can even process it. Your body propped up, kneeling on the floor as Seokjin holds your arms up above your head, his crotch right in front of your face.

“See?” He asks, soft. Controlled as his free hand comes down to pet your hair, “You can be good if you want to.” 

A part deep inside of you stirs at the praise, another still swims with how quick he moved. Has he always been that fast? You suppose so. Secret agents have to be but… the way he tosses you around? You’re wondering if you can be a part of his training as well.

But then, then Seokjin ‘tsks.’ He kisses his teeth, and his fist bites down in your hair, pulling your hair, tugging your skull to one side as he looks at you like he’s assessing you. Evaluating your worth, seeing if you can still make it up to him while you just look up at him with wide eyes, the pain blossoming into something you enjoy more than hate.

“Too bad you chose the wrong path.” He huffs, letting your arms fall behind your back. Confident with that slightly glassy look in your eyes, you won’t try to move them anytime soon. “Good thing I’m kind, huh? That I can set you straight.” 

He leans down to your height, looking into your eyes as he holds your hair tight. A small, sadistic smile dawning on his lips, “You’ll take my corrections well, won’t you, pretty?” 

Your head is spinning. You never though the fuck boy at the pool was– that he was anything like this in the bedroom. But you can’t help but thrive in it. Keen under his watchful gaze as you squirm. Want to fight back, to push his buttons even further– to see what you could get him to do. 

How far you could take it just to see him crack?

“If I don’t?” You test the waters, looking straight back at him. Cocky expression on your face, smirk on your lips. 

“Ah.” He nods his head, keeping that smile on his plump lips, “Then I'd tell you to hit my leg three times if you want to tap out. Or if you can’t breathe for too long. Whichever comes first.” 

Your eyebrows pinch up a hair, lips coming together in an attempt to ask him what he means but you’re not given the chance. No, nothing of the sort as he drags his frame back to full height. His fist still locked in your hair, “I mean I’m going to fuck your throat until it’s raw for me. Colour?” 

His free hand fumbles with his fly as he gives you a moment to think, to process the series of events and decisions that have led up to this very moment. To process how bad you want to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue, to see exactly what the goofy pool kid means when he says punishment. 

To see is he’s really all talk.

“Green.” Your response is louder than you thought it would be, your arms working to pull your dress over your head in the small amount of time he’s given you. Wanting to free yourself from the uncomfortable confines, especially if you’re going to get a little messy. 

You didn’t account for the fact that you did not wear a bra, your tits now completely on display for him, along with you sitting pretty in your underwear. You’re too turned on to care, but he notices it all. 

If you were better, he would’ve taken the time to worship you properly, but you just had to go and try to pin him down. 

What a pity. 

Next time. He’s sure of it. Next time he’ll take it nice and slow, but right now he really just needs to rob the air from your lungs. 

The expression he looks down at you with now is cold, commanding. Demanding obedience  where you’ve given him none. His hand releases your hair before coming up to caress your jaw oh-so gently before his palm cradles each side, squeezing your cheeks until you just pop your mouth open for him. 

In his other hand, his fish is slowly stroking his cock. The grip of him barely closing around the other side, slowly moving up and down, finishing working himself up while you just stare wide-eyed. 

He’s so big. Bigger than you’ve ever seen. 

Your jaw aches at the mere thought of attempting to fit him inside. Your thighs squeezing around nothing at the thought of him going lower. The head flushed, a darker shade than the rest of him as a drop of pre-cum leaks from the tip, later pulled down the shaft with the tug of his hand. 

You wish you had more time to take in the sight of him. To accept the fact that every park of Seokjin is beautiful, before his cock was forced into the wet cavern of your mouth. His hips cramming in as much of himself as he could manage, hitting the back of your throat in one foul swoop. 

It’s too much all at once– your mouth too full, only exacerbating the feeling of realising you’re far too empty anywhere else. The blunt tip of his cock against the back of your throat removing all thoughts from your head as you just try to focus on not gagging. On not scraping your teeth against his length. 

“See? If you just took cock as well as you behaved, we wouldn’t have any issues, would we now?” His tone is condescending, but the pulse it sends down to your core is all too real. “Now, just let Seokjinnie do what he needs to– take your punishment well and you’ll get a reward, yeah?” 

He begins to move his hips, starting out slow, letting you get used to it just a bit even though the force of his rocks is omnipresent. Reclined yet harsh as drool spills from the corners of your lips, his hand in place forcing your jaw to stay open just the way he wants it to.  

His other hand finds its home again, fisting your hair, pulling your head forward  with every thrust as you attempt to take him deeper, try to relax your throat as best you can so he can slide deeper inside– the promise of a reward sending flurries deep inside. 

You want a reward. You can earn it.

“Remember, pretty girl, no teeth. 3 hits.” He tells you like he’s lecturing you, reminding you of things you should already know, “Gonna fuck you for real now. Pretend this mouth is your cute little cunt.” 

He groans, his hand leaving your jaw to meet with the fist at the back of your skull. His eyes still half-lidded as he looks down at you, take in the sloppy expression of your face, the hazed out features of your eyes as he treats you a bit roughly. 

See? He knew you were a good girl. Knew he just had to play with you right to get you to move, to sing how he wanted you to, “I’ll show your pussy how I’m going to treat her.” 

His hips start rutting against your face in earnest. Hard, powerful, quick trusts as he forces himself inside over and over again. Only about half of his length manages to fit inside as he slowly works open your throat. Presses himself just a little bit deeper inside with every motion. 

"Holds himself there for a few seconds every time, steals the breath from your lungs as your eyes grow more and more distant. As you trust him enough to slip away, even during what is meant to be a punishment. Watches as your nails dig into your thighs– hopes a little bit in his heart that you’ll scratch him with the same ones. 

When your thighs keep pressing together, rubbing just a little, he almost wants to coo. Ah, you were just so desperate, that's why you were acting up then? Maybe. Or maybe you just like a little fight. He likes the fight, too. Wants it for the rest of your days together. 

Hopefully forever. 

His hips press close as he counts down from ten out loud. Admiring the handiwork his cock on your tongue allowed. The red swelling or your lips, the little bit of drool at the corners, too. The mess on top of your head from his hard grabbing, his rough fucking into your skull as you attempted to make sounds around him. 

Your hands grip against his slacks at 5, your foggy eyes widening only a fraction as he draws out his numbers just a little. As his hips work as slow thrust as deep as he can manage inside, nowhere near even half his cock fitting between your lips, but that's okay. 

Finally, finally he pulls away. Lets you suck full breaths back into your lungs as you mean over slightly. Still clawing at his slacks, as you huff for air. His hand having released you completely, now returning to pet you softly. 

“I knew you could do it.” A shiver runs down your spine at the praise, and you’re almost entirely sure he can feel it. Can feel every little movement you make, every little motion. 

On bambi legs, you slowly stand up. Looking up at Seokjin with a little glare, your caveman brain deciding he has on entirely too many clothes. Letting you fumble with the buttons until they’re undone completely, until the fabric is pushed from his shoulders all while his eyes stay trained on you. 

As he admires you.

You know, it’s a funny thing, how he fell for you. How he was just meant to observe you, but something about your energy just drew him in. Back then, he was disappointed he only got the summer shifts– Jimin got to attend your university to keep an eye on you– but now, he wouldn't have it any other way.

It was meant to be.

“Stupid fucking shirt… Stupid fucking..” It seems that despite his best efforts, your bratty tone still hasn’t left. Sure, that part of your brain firmly shut off when he was limiting your oxygen supply, but it seems like now it was back with a vengeance.

It would seem he has his work cut out for him.

Once again, you’re tossed around like you weigh nothing. One second you were attempting to climb the man like a tree, deadset on marking up his next, the second you were laying in a similar position as before. Your chest down against the sheets, your ass now propped in the air thanks to Seokjin angling your legs to keep it as high as he can. “Wh-what are you–” You try to grumble out, though your throat feels raw. Vocal cords too tired to work properly even as he tugs your panties down your thigh, as a gasp forces its way inside of your lungs. The cold air hitting your folds, making your skin feel even more warm.

“Do you still want me to fuck you?” Is all he asks, though you hear him somewhere behind you taking a knee. Propping your legs up higher, positioning you for him as your thighs burn. As they shake just a little from the strain.

You wait one second, two. To try and make yourself seem a little less desperate, though in reality. You think you might die if you don’t feel his cock inside of you by the end of the night. If you don’t feel him making you whole. “Yes.”

It’s his lips that meet your cunt first this time. Nothing more than a peck of his thick lips against your cute little clit. His breath letting out a quiet disappointed sigh against your sodden lips as he sees the poor little thing practically jump. Twitching from just that little bit of contact, from him.

“You know,” You feel the air against you, every tiny movement sending your overstimulated, underattended core alight, “I was really going to be gentle with you. Take care of you like I should. It’s unfortunate, really.”

His right palm presses against your inner thigh, urging them to spread further for him, give him more room all while his eyes roll, “Further. You know how to balance. You’re not dumb.” 

It’s easy for him to say, when he’s not the one bent over the end of the mattress– face down, ass as high in the air as your hips will allow. Still, the response from you is as automatic as they come.

Heels of your feet shifting in either direction, a little whine leaving your lips as he neglects giving you the attention you still think rightfully deserve, even after your punishment, “I-I am!” 

His right hand moves up your leg, smooth delicate skin practically pulsing in his palm from anticipation alone. You can feel the rate of your heart, the way your blood moves through your skin. 

Warm air hits your cute little cunt when he lets out a huff. His thumb moving to one of your lips, pulling it back. Spreading you, waiting to consume you whole. Eyes focused, watching as your entrance flutters open and closed around nothing. Wanting something, fucking anything to stop the burning of unaddressed arousal in your core.

“You’re lucky I’m even doing this.” He sighs, unimpressed, “I should just fuck you now. Should let that little bit of grinding be all you get.” 

Oh. Fuck. Fuck, okay. You know he saw the pulse of your cunt at his filthy words. Hate how warm that image makes your fucked out mind feel. Hate how much it makes your brain want to just slip away and disappear as he takes over everything for you. 

Wish he had less patience. Fucking wish you worked him up even more so that he might just do something instead of just leaving you there to flounder. Wish he would just take and take and take instead of letting you flounder.

Soon? Maybe soon? You could only hope. 

Fuck, he’s got you wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he? 

It’s a good thing he’s all the same.

Pink turns to red in your eyes as he just continues to stare at your weeping cunt, head lifting up. Crooning back to look at him as best you can with your cheeks puffy, eyes set into an impatient, impertinent glare, “Oh my fucking god! You’re so annoying! Just put your fucking tongue against my cunt before I have to do it–” 

Shit, fucking shit. You should’ve known by that little arch in his brow when you whipped your head back that this is what he had been planning– should’ve known he was only going to do something when you were distracted. 

Another long, flat, pressing lick from your clit to your entrance has your back arching all over again. Your head returning back to your arms when he circles the entrance of your walls with his tongue. The warm, wetness of it making you forget all too quickly why you were yelling at him– how you were planning on reaching back, shoving his head against your cute little pussy and keeping him there until he made you fall apart. 

Yeah, you won’t have to do any of that now. Not with how he moves his jaw.

The motions are almost thought out, concise, yet are entirely unrelenting. Long, controlled laps through your lips. Only pausing to suck one into his mouth for a moment before pulling away. Almost like he’s trying to make sure he cleans every last drop of your arousal from your flushed flesh, make sure he’s the only one he gets to taste it. Gets to feast. 

You feel like you’re going insane, especially when that sinful, godforsaken moan leaves his lips. 

Breathes coming out hot, heavy. Pants of pleasure leaving your lips whenever he presses down against your clit, whenever he just starts to stretch your entrance with the length of his tongue. Your head turned to the side, eyes just barely open as they try to identify his figure between your legs. Try to see more than just the mused black hair caressing the top of his head. 

You want to yell at him, to ride his face properly, but he just won't let you. One hand on your spine, the other circling the puffy skin of your right lip as he holds it open. Leaving you on the cusp of pleasure, of almost feeling something building, yet making sure you also feel entirely unrelieved. 

Fuck, you know he’s doing it on fucking purpose, too. 

Because just, just when you’re on the brink of insanity, only then does he give into what you truly need. When he already has your thighs shaking from the strain of holding yourself upright, when he sees your hips bucking more and more, seeking out where you need him most, only then does he act with some benediction.

What can you say? Your mouth always has gotten you in trouble.

“Seokjin I swear to go–” His lips wrap around your clit, tucking the little bundle between them. Rolling it over and over with his tongue while he gives just the slightest suck. Fucking makes stars flash in the corners of your eyes. 

At the same time, his thumb finally moves in close. The rest of his palm keeping you spread while the finger moves around your entrance. Circling, circling, circling the space until finally, finally, tucking itself inside. Making itself at home, finally giving your clutching heat something to wrap around. To pulse against. 

God, and that your walls do. Fluttering around the invading digit, walls attempting to pull it in deeper like his thumb was just a poor replacement for his real cock. The thing that would really stretch you out like you need. 

But shit, you really can’t think about his cock right now– you wish you could fixate on it instead, honest, you really do, but you can’t. Your mind is all-consumed. Brain able to do anything but try their best to not let your knees go out from under you, to try and keep up with any single thought in your head while the physical stimulation is much more appetizing to fixate on. 

“Be careful, or you get nothing.”

His blunt nails gripping into your ass, his mouth wrapped around your clit– sucking, licking, devouring your pretty little pussy like it's his last meal. His thumb not moving, save for a pressure, a stretch, against the inside of your walls that he knows you always crave. His stupid fucking little grunts, no more than huffs of air, every once and awhile when you squeeze around him, when you let out another one of your cute little sounds. 

It’s too much, all of it is too much. 

All of your senses feel like they’re starting to go into overdrive. The band in your lower belly pulling tighter and tighter until it’s just ready to snap. Fuck, it really fucking wants to snap. 

“S-Seokjin…” You huff out, fingers digging into the sheets of the bed. Entire frame shaking as you try to pull out the words to warn him of your impending orgasm. To warn him like a good girl. 

“Yeah?” The rumble of his voice right against your little bundle sends chills down your spine– the accidental brush of his teeth over the too-sensitive nerves almost causing your thighs to fall out from under you. 

His tone like a challenge, like a breath giving you life.

But then, right when you’re about to fall off the edge. Right when you’re about to cum, everything fucking disappears. 

His hands, his mouth withdraw from you completely. Everything about him is suddenly just gone. Leaving you shaking, practically fucking drooling against the bedsheets. Your form spasming from the loss, attempting to seek out something that is no longer there, something no longer meant for you. “Told you you didn’t deserve it.” 

Oh god, oh fucking god. Are you going to cry? You feel like you are. Your eyes feel wet and bubbly, your lungs feel shaky from the orgasm you were denied. 

Everything just feels on fire. And you, poor little you, just want to get on your fucking knees and beg. 

You think you might just.

“I-I– ‘m so– Mmph!” Either way, it doesn’t matter. Your words are cut off with another whine. A whine of pleasure, of unadulterated joy as Seokjin finally fucking finally gives you something to be happy about instead of just relentless teasing to your poor cunt. 

His cock pressed against you, right against your weeping little hole. The thick length rubbing between your lips. Head coaxing itself through his salvia and your slick as it slowly rubs against your clit, then back down to your hole. Pressing against it ever so slightly, begging for entrance that you would give in a heartbeat if he asked. “You’re what?” He demands, tone just as strict as before. Just as strict as when he had his hand tangled against your skull, forcing your head back and forth against his cock. 

It makes you want to beg. To finally give up on that bratty side of you that forces itself to the surface every damn time. 

But now, now you really don’t think it could, even if you wanted it to. Not with how fucking big he feels up against you. How full your entrance feels just from the head teasing it. Against your throat is one thing, sure. But with it pressed right up against your core, the world feels looser. Your head feels higher and only a little voice in the back of your brain is wondering if it can even fit at all.

The louder, more insistent one is wondering how big, how full you would feel if he never prepped you at all. If he just got so tired of your antics that he just bent you over and fucked himself in all the way.

You swallow, the thought a little too heavy for your hazy mind to bear– another time. Yeah. Yeah, another one. Because right now, you need this more than you think you’ve ever needed anything in your life. More than oxygen, more than gravity. 

More than fucking, fucking anything! You don’t know!

So it really is no surprise when the pleas come from your lips, when even more tears well up in your eyes from just needing it all, “Please, please, please, please, please, please please!” 

Your rational, human brain is off. Your conscious somewhere up in the clouds as you allow nothing but a string of pleas leave you. Your whole body shaking with want, with anything he would give. 

Only able to be brought out of it by a gentle hand tracing down your spine, the soft call of your name urging you to tilt your head back. A soft command obeyed immediately as you find Seokjin standing there, staring down at you.

It’s hard for you to focus, honest, it is. But you’re glad you looked, more than anything.

Seokjin is a complete wreck for no one but you. You know that now as you look at him– take him in even though hazy eyes and a slow brain. 

His hair is a complete mess– the strands sticking up at odd angles. His cheeks down to his chest are flushed bright pink in colour. His lungs heaving with air as he still maintains perfect composure. Sharp eyes still trained on you, though just a tad bit soft than before as he checks in, one little question on his tongue. 

“Colour?”

At first, for a moment, you sit there confused. Mind working a little slower than normal as you try to catch up, to find meaning behind the single word. And he gives it to you, gives you all the time you need.

When you realise it, you feel warm all over for an entirely different reason. Butterflies flapping their wings in your stomach as you look down, cheeks somehow heating up all over again. 

Sure, this is certainly an awkward time to feel like nothing more than a girl with a crush, but his care, his attentiveness makes you want to do a backflip or something. 

“Green.” You mumble out softly, though it’s clear he hears, “But… but can we flip? I want to see you.” The question is soft, hesitant, but it only makes him smile all the more fondly. 

The dominant persona flipping off for only a second before he slides it back on with ease, “Of course pretty girl, since you took your punishment so well for me, I think you deserve it, don’t you?” You can only blush, give a slight nod to your head as he carefully maneuvers you, repositions your head at the pillows. Hovers over you with your legs wrapped tight around his back.

You almost wish you never asked to move, because this new angle? Seeing him fully in all his glory? It’s truly devastating. 

“I’m going easy on you, you know?” He asks offhanded, one hand wrapped around his cock as he strokes it up and down. Slowly positions the head to slide between your lips all while squeezing at the base, “I know I should be. You don’t know the rules, so I shouldn’t punish you for breaking them.” 

He stops his slow glide at your clit, letting out a hiss as he presses the head firmly against your clit. Your breath hitching, letting out a mewl all the same, “But I really couldn’t stop myself. When I see a bratty little girl like you, I really can’t.”

“I-it’s–” You try, the words coming out cracked, broken by sounds of pleasure against your tongue, “‘t’s cause you’re mean.” 

“Maybe.” He smiles, watching the mess between your thighs as he slowly slides his cock down again, “You’ll forgive me.”

He says it like it’s a fact, like it’s easy. And maybe it is. Maybe it’s more easy than you give him credit for as he finally, finally, begins the press inside of your core. 

His hips angling as the head finds purchase against your hole. The slow stretch as he presses himself inside agonisingly slow– making sure to savor it, making sure you feel every single inch as it enters inside. As it fills you to the brim, stretches your cunt to its limit. As every flutter and pulse of your walls courses through your veins, breathing you in, capturing you whole. 

Even if you, yourself, haven't forgiven him for being oh-so mean, your cunt certainly has. Your pretty pussy has wanted nothing more than what it is receiving at this moment, has wanted nothing more than to feel the way he stuffs you full. Fucks himself to the brim inside, leaves leaky trails of pre-cum inside of your flutter walls. 

Pulling him in, trying to pull him deeper. To feel him at the very depths of your soul. 

You wish you could watch– oh, you know the sight just has to be the prettiest thing in the world. To watch his cock slowly disappear into you, to watch as his thighs shake from the strain of holding back, stopping himself from pushing too fast too quick. To watch the strain of his own expression as he watches the sinful sight. To see the sweat on his brow or the gentle lick of his lower lip.

But you, poor you can’t see any of it. Can’t do anything as your body is filled with overwhelming blooms of pleasure and pain– your head thrown back as you close your eyes. Your lips leaking every little cuss you can think of, every drawn own expression of pleasure while your spine arches up against the bed. While your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving little crests against them.

It isn’t until he bottoms out that you can finally open your eyes once again. Can finally see the hazy yellow glow of the room peek in, can finally will your head to look down, see his entire cock home inside of you. 

“Move.” You whimper, eyes looking up at him quickly. Blinking away tears at the corners as if you truly can not handle a single second more, “Move, please, or I think I’m going to die, Seokjin, Please!” 

“Needy thing.” 

All of your prayers are answered as he finally begins the withdrawal of his hips, as he finally begins to thrust into you in earnest. As your hips cant up ever so slightly, as your body does everything in its power to keep him in and push him out at the exact same time. 

Heaven sent. That is the only thing this feeling could be. 

He pulls back, barely exiting at all before thrusting back in again. It isn’t a rough, tortuous thing like you might've expected. No, it’s slow, passionate. As if the movement can spill a thousand words that his mind might want to utter instead. As if you finally crawled through the seven circles of hell to breach the surface and gulp up everything known as Kim Seokjin.

Slowly, his tempo increases. Like he was still being caring, considerate as he stretched you open properly. Made sure you could manage all of him, take him and let it feel good rather than a painful sort of thing. Increased pressure with every rock, every cant of his hips as he bottomed out fully. 

“Baby, this cunt– it’s so pretty, you know that?” It’s like his eyes are unable to leave where the two of you are connected, his gaze never wavering from where he disappears into your heat over and over again. “It fits me so perfectly. And to think I was scared I was gonna hurt her…” 

There's almost a fond smile on his face as he traces one of his hands down your side, nails gently scratching your skin until he finally lands right over your cunt. A grunt of effort leaving his lips as he taps against it, no more than a love pat before he reaches lower, spreads one of your lips so he can watch the scene properly. Admire you fully. 

“But look at that?” You unintentionally clench around him, breath letting out little huffs with every thrust inside, “Darling was made for me, wasn’t she? I’m honoured.” 

You want to say something, you know you should– honest, but really, your head is too far gone to formulate real words. Words that mean anything other than cock and cum. So instead you just whimper and whine, let the sounds flow freely from your lips as your nails scratch down his back in earnest. Leave little red trails across his skin so everyone knows just who was causing him to tumble apart like this. 

“I know I was so mean earlier, you’re not still mad, are you, my love?” You never knew he could write such songs of disgrace from his tongue, but he proves you wrong once more with everything he does. 

The shake of your head is a subtle thing, but one he would never miss. No, it seems like you could never get anything past him. 

You wouldn’t want to.

“Ah~ That’s what I thought. I knew you would forgive me.” He leans down, his breath right in your ear as he continues, “I guess you deserve your reward then now, don’t you?” 

Though he asks, he doesn’t give you a single second to respond. His hips are already changing their pace, the slight shift in angle from his descent of your body causing hit cock to rut up against that spot inside of you, that little bundle of nerves that leaves you seeing stars. 

Meanwhile, instead of the strokes a lover would give, he becomes angled. Precise. Every stroke serving a purpose. Every single one with the sole intent of driving you closer and closer to the edge, giving you no break, giving you no chance to do anything but take it. 

So this is what he meant with his words before. 

With every thrust, his pelvis brushes against your clit. With every drive inside he lets out a whine of his own into your ear. One of his hands finding its way into your hair, forcing your head to the side as his hips begin their descent upon the column known as your throat. 

Bites and bruises, kisses and licks are all pleased among the surface. Your entire frame practically pinned to the bed due to his weight, due to the relentless pressure of his cock filling you fully from the inside out. Your head forced to the side, Your hips only able to squirm, to kick when he allows it to be so.

Your sears filled with the sounds of his cock pummeling into your core, the sound of skin on skin. The sounds of his messy words, now a complete blur behind the haze of your bliss, consuming your ears. 

Kim Seokjin consumes all of the senses you possess, and you aren’t sure you even want them to return to your own disposal. You aren’t sure you ever want him to pull away.

Every thrust sends you closer to the edge. Every slight movement of his hips, of his teeth cause that band to draw tighter and tighter. To will it to snap at a single second. To send you hurdling off the edge of a waterfall with no safety precautions or a way down. 

“Baby, baby~” His mouth wills sounds that meander him between a moan and a groan, the end for himself coming into sight as well, “You want to cum for me, don’t you? I know you do.” He groans. 

“I can feel it, here.” His hand reaches for your own, gently prying it off of his shoulder as he leads you. Trails your combined hands right to your lower belly and presses hard. Presses right to where you both can feel him fucking himself in and out when he applies just the right amount of pressure. “Cum.”

And fuck, you do. Your body follows his order instinctively. Does whatever he asks without a second thought.

You think you can see fucking stars. You’re suddenly thrown off of the edge into an abyss where there is nothing but you and space dust. Where waves of pleasure wrack through your whole body, your walls clamping down harshly around his cock, fluttering with every wave that runs through your core. 

Your back pressing up as far into his chest as you can manage, tits squished against his chest. Face burring itself in his neck where your teeth find it within themselves to lock down around the surface, the added tension from his hand fisting your hair only adding to the pleasure. Your hips bucking as much as they can manage, still trying to get closer, to feel more of him. 

The fall from grace is slow, as controlled as the rise up to it as he cock works you through it. Speeds up at the exact moments it needs to, lulls into a gentle thrust as you slowly creep down from the waves that had pulled you under. Your frame tensing and untensing, letting Seokjin take the wheel as you find yourself in the plush of the bed once again, his cock still hard inside of you. 

“So beautiful.” He mummers, slowly kissing up your throat, still moving his cock in and out of your pulsing cunt, “See? Seokjinnie can be nice, too.” 

You let out a whimper in response, hips bucking up ever so slightly every thrust in, overstimulation beginning to kick in just a bit, “Tell me where to cum, pretty, and I will.” 

You don’t even think before the words leave your lips, a quiet mumble of “ ‘nside.” Letting him know everything he needs to. 

Soon, his hips are working up in their pace again, your eyes pinching closed as you hold him close around his neck. Little huffs leaving your lips as you ignore the slightly painful stimulation he’s causing, yet basking in how good it feels just to have him still inside, how good it feels to make him feel good, too. 

“Gods. Angel… Look at this mess I’ve made of you…” He doesn’t have much in him left, after your orgasm, that much is clear. The whole endeavor working him up until he thought he was just about to explode, but forcing himself to remain patient, to remain dutiful so he could work you through your release first. 

A dozen or two thrusts and his hips are stuttering. The pace becomes less measured, more fractured. His hips losing their want, their need to thrust as he settles into a rut the closer he gets to his end. 

“Perfect cunt.” He grunts, “My perfect cunt. You want me to fill her up, don’t you? That’s what you– ah– said, hm?” 

You nod your head quickly, stumbling over your words as your legs lock around his back, “Good. I deserve it.”

And with one final groan in your ear, he’s falling off the edge after you. His cock twitching in your sore cunt as spurt after spurt of cum leaves his cock, painting your inside fresh with his release. Ruts of his hips doing everything in their power to fuck it deeper inside, make sure it fills you up. Makes you don’t stay empty even after he withdraws. 

He pants against your neck, mumbling praises you don’t quite make out as he stays inside as long as he can. Not withdrawing until he’s sure he’s done spilling inside. Until he’s starting to go soft– not wanting to pull away from the connection he bares with you. 

You, on the other hand, are too blissed out to process much of anything. Sleepiness culminating behind your eyelids as your brain roots itself in place, ready to fall into your dreams. Entirely too fucked out, too relaxed and happy to do much else of anything. 

A lick against your core breaks you out of that, a whine leaving your lips instead, “Seokjin! Too much!” There can only be one culprit, after all. 

You look down between your legs, as much of a serious expression as you can muster in place on your face– he needs to know you mean business. But he’s returned to the man you knew before you asked him to fuck you, the same one withe cheesy smiles and the shy stare whenever your flirting gets to him a little too much. 

“Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t help it.” He raises up, leaning his body over yours once more. Placing a peck on that little kiss-swollen pout on your lips, “I just had to taste it.” 

“Gross.” You whine, a half hearted shove planted on his chest. 

He can only laugh, scooting off of you once more. Raising off the edge of the bed, scooping you into his arms before carrying you to the bathroom, “C’mon, you need to pee.” 

Your expression twists just a little, still trying to conflate how you were once in bed, and now you’re being carried. “What? No I don’t.” 

“Yes you do, it’s important so you don’t get a uti.” And already you’re grumbling. Of course when all you wanted to do was sleep, Seokjin just had to be the aftercare king. 

On the bright side, it looks like your bratty side is back in full swing. 

Regardless, you’re sleepy enough not to argue too much. Letting him do what he needs to do to make you feel cared for. Make you feel loved. Aftercare is as much for one party as it is for the other– you read that online somewhere, so you just let him do whatever. 

Let him brush your teeth, let him wipe your core with a warm rag. Let him dress you in one of his formal shirts. Let him pull you back to bed, spoon you from behind as he mutters out soft praises about how well you’ve done, how you’re such a good girl for him. The words becoming less and less distinct, slowly blurring as he drifts off along with you. 

Ah… your frame nuzzles deeper into his own. Snug as a bug in a rug. 

This couldn’t get any more perfect. 

You bolt upright in bed, a realisation dawning on you. The movement distracting from the gentle energy of the room, the satisfaction and contentment drawn out from both of your hazy, almost sleep-gotten forms. 

“Mm? What is it?” He huffs, sleep evident in his tone, though he still makes an effort. The hand that was once on your waist now resting against your thigh, the thumb moving to rub delicate circles into the surface. 

You look down at him, never feeling more awake than in this moment, “Are you my boyfriend yet?” 

The childish nature, and expression of the question does not cross your conscience, only the overly serious, almost analytical motion of your voice. Though at it, he pops one eye open, slowly sitting up with an exaggerated huff. 

You can’t help but comment. 

“You’re old.” 

“Mmm.” He half moans, half agrees with you again. Sleepily wrapping his arms around you from behind. Pulling you close to his bare chest. Letting you feel his heart beat in tandem with his own. “Yeah, well I guess this old man should add you to his will.” 

And in that moment, when you blush due to his stupid fucking pick up line, you know that you both were made for each other. 

Still, you can’t help but press, “So…?”

“Yes.” You can practically hear the roll of his eyes in his voice, his chin coming up to rest on your shoulder, “I started seeing you as my girlfriend the second I opened my eyes after you saved me. You’re not getting rid of me now.” 

You’re glad he can’t see your face in the dark– you’re sure the smile on your face is absolutely dork. It is, however, unfortunate that he can still feel the excited vibrations of your form. 

“You know,” His plump, kiss swollen lips trail soft kisses across the expanse of your shoulder, “The aunties always think we’re a married couple when we go to the markets. They tell me that you’re my giliw.” 

It’s as if he can sense the furrow of your brows, “My love. My joy.” He can’t help but to smile, and you’re not sure if you’ve ever felt so light, “I tell them you’re just a pain in ass, though.” 

The gasp lets him know you’re about to argue back, the turn of your head in his direction allowing him to sneak in a peck, “I’m joking. I would never.” 

He lets out a soft chuckle, slowly pulling you back towards the mattress. Adjusting you to rest your head on his chest, one of his hands tangling with yours, letting them rest against the skin. His other resting against the top of your head, keeping you close, “C’mon. Sleep. We can talk more tomorrow.” 

Slowly, slowly you settle down. Sure, there are quite a few annoyed gruffs and grumbles in between. But gently, you let the beat of his heart coax you to sleep.

And then, another realisation dawns on you. One a lot bigger than the first. 

Your eyes peel open wide, slowly trailing up his chest to look at his peaceful, slumbering face. The delicate caress of his eyelashes over his cheeks, the soft patterns of air leaving his lungs. 

Oh god. Yep. Yep. That just confirmed it. 

You think you love him.

Your face falls in horror. 

This is going to be terrible for his ego. The world may just end. 

❆ : Ctrl the Cold 2025 M.List

⋆.˚𓆝 ♒︎┊: notes: AH!! And there it is! First of all, congratulations to you for finishing this whole thing. In my drafts, it counts for 45 pages full of text. As I mentioned before, this fic was just intended to be a drabble-- but then as I was thinking and I was like-- wait what if he wasn't lying about being a spy? The whole thing just started to unfold as the plot laid itself out in front of me. This fic was also such great practice for me with dialogue, as I used to feel like it's one of my weaker points in writing. But with such a dialogue heavy story!! I think it's probably gotten a lot better!!

I hope you enjoyed, and please let me know any thoughts you may have about this fic, or any others I have posted!! I love to yap! Have a great day and see you next friday for the next fic in the event <33

The man loves to provide, and one of his favorite ways to provide is by cooking for you and feeding you. He jokes that he just needs you to sit there and be pretty for him while he whips up a quick dinner. And you two joke the entire time, talking about your day, if you two want to make any plans for the weekend, as you sit at the kitchen island with a loving smile.

He stops every now and then to make you taste something, waiting for your response before he continues cooking. Sometimes, he sneaks in little kisses, mumbling that it gives him energy, but you know he just wants to kiss you.

bf! Jin is lowkey competitive as fuck with you. You two make everything into a game, whether that's who's cleaning the dishes tonight or who gets to pay at the restaurant you went out to.

His eyes gleam with mischief when he sees you narrow your eyes at him, and you're already placing a closed fist over your palm. "Rock, paper, scissors - winner pays." You challenge, and your boyfriend smirks as you nod your head at him to copy your stance.

Jin is competitive, but he plays dirty.

As soon as you see him move his hand from behind his back, you're thinking he's going to entertain your games, but he moves faster than you, and a resonating "ding!" chimes between you two.

You blink, once then twice, before you process that instead of the "rock" you thought he'd make to start the game, it was actually him bringing out his phone to tap-to-pay.

Then he adds salt to your wound by laughing, cooing at your pouty lips as he pulls you closer. He gives you a kiss in apology, but you know that he won this round, and you'll need to find a way to even the score.

bf! Jin is full of praise and reassurance. If there is one thing you need to know, it's that your boyfriend will never hesitate to give you encouragement in anything you do.

You want to start a new hobby? He's the first to fund it, buying anything you need as he gives you a grin. He's your biggest cheerleader.

You just did the dishes, even when you really didn't want to? He's pulling you into his arms, letting out a little huff of laughter as he praises you. "Good job, my love! You did the dishes, you're amazing."

Sometimes, you roll your eyes because his kind words make your tummy flip and your cheeks flush, but you never stop him as he gives you a kiss to your cheek and warms your heart with more praise.

bf! Jin shows you he loves you by doing the little things.

It’s shown when he drives, and his hand finding its way onto your thigh as his other one steers. He doesn’t even look your way when he does it, but you can feel the way his fingertips dimple into the jeans you wear today, making your heart warm up.

It’s shown when you are walking, and he falls in step with you, listening to yap about the most randomest thoughts that pop into your brain. And when there isn’t room on the sidewalk for him, he steps behind you, his hand finding the small curve of your back to let you know he is there, and he is still listening.

It also shows when you two go shopping, whatever shopping bags you acquire from your wandering eye, he holds in his hand without second thought. He reassures you he has it, and nods his head to let you continue shopping while he holds your purse with a loving smile.

And it shows when he refuses to let you carry anything he deems too heavy. He knows you are capable, that you’re strong and do it yourself, but when he is around he wants you to know you don’t have to be. He will be strong for you.