#seokjin scenarios

SAVIOR.

the one where it was either seokjin or jeongguk who was going to advance to the next game.

━ seokjin & jeongguk (platonic jinkook)
━ 1.4k words.
━pg-15
━ angst; squid game au; inspired by a tiktok comment i saw recently that i cant remember specifically where :<
━warning/s: taking place in the marble scene of the series so… character death obvs | also,,, my writing is rusty lmao so this might be really really bad and feel really really rushed as well lmao (i really just wanna post this so dont mind me yall ahsjsahsaj)

Jeongguk could only stare at Seokjin once the announcer stopped informing the players of what the next game was going to be.

He couldn’t determine what Seokjin’s expression meant; all he could see was how the guy’s eyebrows rose and how his lips somehow turned upwards in a slight smirk, as if he was actually amused by the unexpected turn of events and not frightened nor conflicted by it like all the people in this makeshift village were feeling after hearing about the mechanics of the next game they were going to partake in. But in the decades they have treated each other as brothers, worked together and trusted no one as fully as the rest among the crowd of strangers and desperate people like them in the four days there were stuck in this arena, Jeongguk no longer questioned Seokjin’s calmness with regards to what was supposed to take place in the next 30 minutes.

“What game do you want to play?” Seokjin asked finally, turning his eyes to him with a lopsided smile.

Jeongguk didn’t answer. His hands only clenched into fists.

“Should we just play the classic one? The one where we guess if the number of marbles in our hand are even or odd?”

“I want to choose another player,” Jeongguk said, his head however directed to the masked guard in charge of them and not at Seokjin.

As expected, the masked guard didn’t reply, didn’t even make a subtle movement of approval or disapproval for that matter, and before Jeongguk could decide to march up to the person and demand that his request be acknowledged, Seokjin weakly held his shoulder in warning, knowing that there was nothing they could do to change the course of their ‘fate’.

“Jeongguk—”

“We’re supposed to get out of here together,” Jeongguk explained agitatedly. “How the fuck is that going to happen if we’re supposed to be play as opponents.”

“It’s not like we ever played as partners prior.” Seokjin snorted. “Besides, you can’t honestly believe that, do you?”

His frustrated expression faltered, replaced with confusion and outraged at the nerve of being asked that question. “What?”

“We knew right from the beginning that there was only going to be one winner in this competition, Guk,” Seokjin explained with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s not like they were going to let us bag the 45.6 billion won as a pair. I thought you understood that when we went back here.”

“I did.”

“Then what’s with the showcase of attitude?”

“Showcase of attitude?” he repeated. “Aren’t you angry at the fact that we’re supposed to kill each other right now? Why are you making it seem like I’m overreacting and throwing a fucking tantrum, huh?”

Seokjin sighed. “We’re not killing each other.”

“Oh,yeah, we’re just letting the other get murdered, is that it?”

“Jeongguk—”

“I’m not playing this game with you,” he hissed.

“Well, I’m not letting the both of us get killed too.” Seokjin huffed, nodding towards the huge LED timer hanging on the wall. “We’ve already come this far. I’m not going to waste the opportunity of either of us joining the next round just because the situation isn’t ideal. We have 28 minutes left. What do you want to play?”

“There has to be another way, Hyung.”

Seokjin frowned. This was the first time he actually saw Jeongguk looking defeated and worried over the time they had to compete in this messed up competition. “Don’t worry,” he said instead, plastering another smile as he jiggled the black pouch full of marbles playfully to him, “I’ll go easy on you.”

“Don’t… don’t do that.”

“Does that mean you’ll go easy on me instead then?” The playful tone was still there.

“Hyung,” he gritted his teeth, more seriously now, “promise me you won’t go easy on me.”

“Alright,” Seokjin nodded and even held his pink out, “I promise.”

Jeongguk didn’t bother answering after that, just letting out a gust of frustrated breath as he felt that he had no choice but to comply due to Seokjin’s firmness about the matter.

The thing was though—the both of them always knew who had the upperhand when it came to games or anything in general, really. Right from when they were kids, it has always been Jeongguk who was hailed the winner or the best among the two of them; he was a naturally skilled kid after all, the type to always be the best in anything he pursued. However, in Seokjin’s defense, the reason why he lost most of the time too wasn’t because of the fact that he was bad himself which made winning easy for the younger man, but because as predictable as it was, Seokjin purposely didn’t try that hard for the result to be always in the favor of the former as well, something that Jeongguk only began noticing when he reached 17 years old and realized that there was no simple way in prevailing against him, ultimately causing Seokjin to finally fight fair.

That was why Jeongguk also didn’t want to play with him. He knew what Seokjin was going to do even at situation like this where his own life was at stake, and he didn’t trust him enough to not do otherwise.

“You cheated.”

Seokjin glanced up from looking at their palms, that same amused smirk conquering his lips. Jeongguk just guessed the right number group that Seokjin was playing with, wagering with an amount that was exact to it too. “Shouldn’t I say that between the two of us?” he asked, already pouring the last marble—the single only one that was left in his possession—to Jeongguk’s pouch.

“You… you’re doing it on purpose,” Jeongguk breathed out, his hand shaking and pulling the pouch closer to him in attempt to haul it farther from Seokjin, but he didn’t move it fast enough to prevent the latter’s movements for it to be of any worth. “You never play fair. I’m not a fucking kid anymore for you to do this to me—”

“I didn’t cheat, Guk—”

“You fucking did!”

“How? Can’t you see that you deserved this win?”

Jeongguk was beginning to burn in rage. Because of Seokjin, because of the stupid game, because of their choice to go back here, because of the reality of what’s about to commence—

“It’s okay, Jeongguk.” Seokjin interrupted his train of thought, hurriedly yet gently enclosing the small bag black containing all the marbles inside Jeongguk’s fist. “You deserved it.”

“What?” he exclaimed, eyes glaring at the older man, eyes watering at the thought of losing him. “How in the hell is this okay? Do you even fucking realize what—”

“—I do.”

“What?” He shouted in complete resentment now, not stopping himself from letting all his emotions out.

Seokjin smiled, in a manner that showed only sadness and annoying authenticity. “Hyung will do it, Jeongguk.”

“What?” he repeated for the nth time, knees seemingly buckling with his tears finally falling on his cheeks.

“LetHyungdo it,” Seokjin said. “It’s okay.”

Jeongguk couldn’t help but suddenly grasp Seokjin’s collar harshly, pushing him against the wall in violence that made the guard automatically point his gun at the side of Jeongguk’s head, an action that the latter didn’t care about. “Are you fuckingcrazy?” he snarled.

“It’s easier this way.”

“No!”

“It’s okay, Jeongguk,” Seokjin grabbed his hands on his shirt and forcefully removed it, “it’s okay.”

“No,” Jeongguk shook his head rapidly, trying still to stop Seokjin while he walked to the guard to present his empty pouch, “I won’t let you do this—”

“You won.”

“Hyung—”

“Hyung will do it.” He finished again, one last turn being done before his hands rose up to grasp Jeongguk’s shoulders tightly. “You won it fair and square. So, make sure to win the rest of the game too, alright?”

“Hyung…” Jeongguk practically begged, but Seokjin only patted his back and immediately showed the empty pouch he had to the masked guard to declare the loser of the game. He, on the other hand, couldn’t move his feet even if he wanted to; he understood that maybe this has always been Seokjin’s plan all along—to help him in the games but never succeed it with him.

Jeongguk felt Seokjin squeeze his shoulder again and he stared at him with bloodshot eyes.

“You did well, Guk,” he said, another squeeze until he retracts his arm back to his side. “Thanks for playing with me for the last time.”

As the guard lifted their weapon, Jeongguk’s gaze shifted from Seokjin’s face to the gun, the finger on the trigger being pressed in what looked like in slow motion.

Unthinkingly, Jeongguk ran towards Seokjin.

BANG!

The two of them staggered.

A long silence.

“Player 091, eliminated.”

THANK YOU FOR READING & FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED!♡(ˆ‿ˆԅ)

➼ premise. the last time you saw seokjin was when he went off to college and never looked back. uncle kim, a friend of your father who treated you like his own daughter, would complain about his estranged son whenever he came to visit in the new year and got drunk and turned into a pathetic sobbing mess.

that scared the fuck out of you because who knew old people could look so ugly when they’re crying over their child whom they neglected for the most part of his life?

well, that child grew up into a fine young man.

fine enough to afford a sugar baby.

➼ muses. seokjin x reader

➼ genre. ceo au. sugar daddy-baby au. college au. eventual established relationship. eventual housewife!reader. eventual husband!seokjin. eventual parents au.

➼ words. 19k

➼ warnings. 9 year age gap, multiple explicit scenes, innuendos, depictions of breeding kink, bondage, they’re both horny as fuck.

x

to say you’ve never given much thought for love, for loving or for being loved—would be a big, utterly fat, fucking lie. the fairytales and happy endings you grew up reading planted stars in your eyes and now you’re blind.

not because of love. fuck,no.

but because the meteor crash lands into your very existence and wipes away all traces of that little girl with starry eyes and a beating heart. in its place, rises a woman from the ashes of what she once was.

hearts are fickle little things. they love and they change their course and they find another sea to fall in love all over again.

not yours though. you keep yours locked up in a pretty little chest with gold ornaments carved into them.

when the boys you meet become featureless, blank canvases with the same old lustrous glint in their eyes, you turn to older men. and when even that fades away like the ashes they’ll be burned into in less than five years, you look for another source of entertainment.

“i’m so bored,” cliche, but true, “men are boring.”

“have you tried the taste of a forbidden cherry?” jennie kim smiles coquettishly, her eyeliner making her eyes appear more catty than they are.

“i can’t form emotional bonds with girls either, i tried,” you sigh.

“silly little petal,” she laughs.

“why are you talking like that?” you quiz, throwing your gaze in her direction but jennie simply struts your way like the small distance between you and the couch is a runaway.

“if you can’t feel love, doesn’t mean you can’t feel anything else, does it?” she insinuates, pushing her phone in your hand.

the screen is lit with a gold and black layout with multiple pictures of suited bodies—some are a bit tight and some fit just right. and on top of the screen, in fancy cursive, the words sugarlite winks at you tantalizingly.

“what’s this?” you blink.

“your new hobby, baby.” she smirks.

the truth is, you’re not sure if that exchange with jennie kim is real or not. you and her aren’t even that close. the only reason you and her would ever find yourselves trapped in a room together is if you’re playing 7 minutes in heaven, got paired together and shoved by your friends into some empty room with the most minimal lighting possible. instead of making out, you both choose to sit miles apart from each other.

still, that night marks the night of your descent to the black little hole of nightly wonders and the birth of a stone cold ego crusher. your first daddy was a charmer. suave, suit-wearing, deep voice that penetrates straight into your core. it’s impossible not to fuck him. but that didn’t last long because he was getting married to the woman of his family’s choice.

the rest? well, you barely remember the rest. they’re either old little bums with leery eyes and barely any teeth for a smile or fucking maniacs who teased out sides of you unbeknownst to anyone.

but they’re a little too much for you to continue seeing.

so you go through one man after another, meeting them at the lotus’ bar with tabletops shiny enough to make a run for your highlighter’s founder. the marble floor clicks with every step of your slick black pumps. the soft jazz spills into the hallway, breathing life into the portraits of people whose faces you’ve memorized but never know who.

they’re probably big shots in their own days.

the vicinity barely hosts more than ten people.

it’s because it’s 8 in the evening and on a monday night—it’s too early to be drinking on a monday night.

but those who do, are always the most fun.

your blood red lips curve into a smile as you spot the three men. one is in his mid 40’s and is sporting a beer belly. the other is behind the counter, mixing cocktails and wiping down glasses.

the last one has his back turned on you as he sits at the end of the bar as though warning anyone who’d dare to approach him.

well, that’s certainly not your possible target.

maybe he hasn’t arrived. you shrug.

“hey, handsome, how are you doing?” you greet the man behind the bar.

“miss seo,” he smiles, pretty white pearls beaming back at you, “business is pretty slow but i get by.”

the way the man at the end of the bar glances at you doesn’t go past you. it’s normal for men to steal a peek at this package they’ll never have a chance of buying even on a discount.

but what’s not normal is when the chair they’re sitting on scraped against the floor and a familiar pair of brown—almost pitch black eyes—flash with rage as they bore into yours, “____? what the—what are you doing here?”

kim seokjin.

you never thought you’d be seeing him again. and most definitely not in the bar you frequent for your night rendezvous. he’s lost most of his baby fat, obtaining a fine jawline that looks like they can cut you in half. yet his cheeks still retain their squishable puffiness from his younger days.

and his hair is dyed auburn, deep parted as his bangs brush against his forehead gently. a much different contrast to the glare in his eyes.

his overly thick glasses are gone—whether its contacts or lasered, you don’t care. his eyes are prettier  when you can actually see them.

the bartender’s gaze flits over the tall, towering dark-haired man in front of you. his eyes tell you this isn’t the first time a man twice the size of the woman he’s meeting flipped out at the sight of said woman.

“gee, you tell me. i’m just here to meet someone.” you say shrug, not yet connecting the dots.

the man’s thick set of brows knit together. they look like they might stay glued together forever if you don’t do something about it.

“anyways, i’m not gonna snitch so chill your man tiddies,” you wave a dismissive, perfectly manicured hand.

the thing is, they’re not the bad kind of man tiddies. you have no complaints burying your face in them. it’s not hard to tell even under that blazer and vest he’s wearing right now.

just as you’re about to brush past him, large thick fingers curl around your tiny little wrist.

“what—“ you’re about to ask when the next words that slips out of seokjin’s mouth gets your body freezing like ice in the antarctic.

“missseo hana,” he whispers under his breath and you almost visibly shiver in delight of his deep voice licking your ear.

that is, until you realize who he’s referring to.

his darkened gaze bore into you like a bottomless pit of destruction. one, if you fall, you’ll never be able to crawl out of.

“how did you know that name—well, my alias—whatever.” you glare.

“what are you doing on a fucking sugar daddy app?” he waves his phone in the air, the screen flashing too brightly for the briefest moment before your eyes finally caught sight of the familiar golden black-toned chat app.

the sender sent him a picture of a headless woman in a deep silken emerald dress. the same dress that’s hugging your curves in all the right places.

“are you—“ your eyes widen as realization hits you in the face with a baseball bat, “mr. kim jinseok?”

when only silence hangs in the air, you see the bartender approach in your periphery.

“miss, would you like an angel-a?” he cautiously asks.

it’s a universal code for asking if you need help. you give the man holding your wrist one last unappreciative glance before yanking your hand out of his grasp and smiles at the bartender.

“i’m good, thanks.” you say.

he hides his thoughts well, nodding and scurrying back to his spot where he stands, wiping the shot glasses behind the bar.

“kim jinseok? seriously? you couldn’t pick a better name?” you lift a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at the brooding man.

it takes him five whole seconds before he lets out a breath, throws his head back and sighs deeply.

“what about you? what about seo hana?” seokjin slips back onto his seat, swiping the half filled glass off the smooth surface of the counter and downing it in one gulp.

you can’t help but notice how his adam’s apple bobs as he takes the shot as if it’s his first of the night. you wonder how they’ll move underneath you.

“it means little flower in japanese,” you smile coquettishly, “gives them something to look forward to.”

you order a shot of tequila, making sure to throw in a wink at the bartender to show you’re fine. the fabric of his pants under your palm feels soft and his thigh feels like they’re built of muscles. you wonder how they’d look like kneeling on the mattress with your legs around them.

“i’m taking you home,” seokjin announces a second later, slipping out of his seat and marching towards the exit like he knows you’re going to follow.

you heave out a despondent sigh before the sight of a shot glass slips into view. the colorless liquid looks a lot like water but burns your throat all the same.

“thanks, handsome,” you shoot him a smile before strutting in the direction seokjin disappeared to.

you see the man’s back shrinking as he gets further away. his strides are bigger than yours and as much as you hate to run after a man, your heels are clicking against the walls and you see a girl in a rich emerald dress with her hair pinned up in the horizontally lined wall mirror.

seokjin must have heard but he doesn’t look like he cares. so he can’t blame you when your crimson nails brush against his shoulder and he finds himself against the aforementioned wall mirror with you in front of him, one leg wedged in between his.

“i’m not leaving without getting my pay,” you say, tainting his neck with your blood red lipstick, smirking when you hear the sharp intake of breath coming from the man you have pinned against the wall.

“i’ll pay! j-just…” his facade comes crumbling before you get the chance to sink your teeth in his flesh and mar his smooth, milky skin with a love bite.

“i like working for what i deserve,” you smirk and before seokjin could retort, you’re crashing your lips against his.

his whole body turns to statue as you kiss him and lick his bottom lip but not letting your tongue go past that until he sighs against your mouth. then, his hands cup your face and his forehead leans on yours within a lull in time after you’ve sated at least minuscule of your thirst for each other.

“i knew you since you were a kid,” he murmurs, eyes sweeping over your lipstick smudged lips.

“so did i, genius,” you roll your eyes.

and seokjin devours you, kissing you and biting down on your bottom lip harder than you like but you suppose it’s fair since he probably didn’t like being shoved against a wall either. but before your hand can snake down and cop a feel of his bulge, his own bands around your wrist and stops you just above his buckle.

“not here, not in public,” he says, breathing barely steadying.

“you do realize this is a hotel, right?” you have a sudden urge to roll your eye but you decide against it.

something tells you the attitude you’ve been showing is enough to warrant seokjin to never want to book you again. you’re yanked out of your reverie just as seokjin starts yanking you towards the lobby.

what is up with this man and holding your delicate wrist captive?

the receptionist’s eyes widen just the slightest bit before she puts on a perfect marionette smile. the name tag clipped to her lapel spells out “jung miyeon”.

“give me the best suite you’ve got,” seokjin grunts, finally releasing your wrist to fish for his wallet.

“that will be three thousand, six hundred and—“ miyeon trails off as soon as she sees the black card seokjin slides over.

“m-mr. kim, i-i apologize for not recognizing you sooner,” she fumbles with her words, bowing deeply.

“nevermind that, give me the key. i’ll collect my card tomorrow morning after i check out.” his words drip with a kind of authority you didn’t notice before.

was it because he was kim jinseok that only appeared to you as a sugar daddy and nothing more?

what good would it bring if he starts bossing around his sugar baby anyway.

“y-yes, it’s the lavender suite on the 18th floor,” miyeon slips a golden colored card across the counter.

before you can even check out the shiny little thing, seokjin’s already swiping it off the counter and gripping it in his hand like he’s holding on for dear life.

“well? what are you waiting for, little flower?” he looks back at you, those thick set of brows rising to the ceiling.

chills run down your spine as your stomach churns from the way he calls your name. it’s almost as though he’s taunting you for not being the freshly bloom you claim to be.

“just checking something out,” you smirk before brushing past him, “not much to see though.

seokjin quietly follows a few steps behind you, like a predator waiting for his time to prance at you. and true to your suspicion, as soon as you’re in the elevator, you’re pushed against the cool metal wall, a pair of whiskey lips on yours. his hand is under your chin, forcing your neck to crane up to touch his lips.

you can’t even complain that he’s not being so gentlemanly because his other hand is under your thigh, just inches from your ass yet not quite touching.

it definitely was the attitude, you think.

you don’t get to see how palatial the suite is nor appreciate its interiors because seokjin’s shrugging off his blazer and unbuttoning his vest before he roughly pulls on his tie. all of a sudden, you feel like a novice; unsure of where to put your hand when he’s taking care of himself like that.

but you don’t mind the view.

piece by piece, his clothing falls on the warm wooden floor until he’s in nothing but his pants.

“hands,” seokjin instructs and you blink, questioning if he’s for real but when those opulent honey brown gaze stare back at you as if he’s not going to repeat what he said, you bite your bottom lip.

closing your fists and bringing them together, you stretch your arms over to him. seokjin doesn’t even bat an eye when the belt snaps at his tugging. he wraps it around your wrists and your heart lurches in your stomach when he gives it one last tug before securing the buckle.

“tighter, daddy,” yet you still dare say.

that backfired though.

“eep!” an ungraceful yelp leaves your mouth when the man bends down, wraps one arm around your legs and hoists you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing.

“i’ll show you tight, petal.” seokjin’s low voice seeps into your bones and you have to cross your legs not to let yourself drip down your legs.

“ah! hey, no fair!” you complain when a smack lands on your ass but sigh in appreciation when you feel his hand on that same spot that seared with pain just a second ago.

the sheets feel like silk underneath you even when seokjin tossed you onto the king sized mattress unceremoniously.

“you could’ve saved some for me,” you whine as you watch him push down his pants and boxers.

but the regret soon dissipates when you see him stroke himself languidly, precum glinting off his tip like pretty diamonds. “think you can take it, little flower?”

“take off my dress—no, push it up and fuck me—i’m not wearing any panties anyway,” you’re fully aware what you’re saying.

“i know,” is all he says, caressing your hip where your panties would have ever so slightly protruded against the soft silken material of your dress—if you’d just wear one.

you’re too far preoccupied with other matters to ponder on what he means by that. for all you know, he might’ve only known when he spanked you on the way to the bed.

speaking of which, the bed doesn’t even budge when seokjin climbs on it but it dents underneath his weight as he crawls over to you like a beast sizing up his prey.

you swallow, teeth digging into your bottom lip almost painfully as you find yourself wishing the time would move faster and stop altogether so you could engrave this moment inside your head— the sight of kim seokjin’s hooded eyes fixed on the apex of your legs, his hand on your thigh just below where you dress ends.

but before he can reach where you want him to, your dress stops you from opening your legs any wider.

“you have got to be fucking kidding me,” you groan.

but that despondency is short-lived. you hear the sound of something tearing and before you know it, seokjin’s hand is snaking further up between your thighs until his middle and index finger swipes up your lips.

the hum that escapes your lips is purely instinctual. the moan that slips past you, even more so. his fingers slide right into you and your stomach feels like it’s burning— your whole body feels like it’s on fire. you’re not sure if it’s seokjin that’s pressing his hand down on your thigh to keep your legs spread but you wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the one all too willingly spread eagle in front of him.

“seokjin, please, please, please,” you whine when he pulls his fingers out just as you’re about to reach the point of ecstasy.

“shh,” he hushes you up mindlessly, eyes trained on his erected self as he smoothes your arousal over his tip, the sight uncannily erotic for your hazed self.

you find a semblance of your sanity when he swiftly turns you over, the cool air hitting your aroused apex. he slips a pillow underneath your stomach. you’re sure your ass is up in the air.

perfect.

he’ll fuck right into your heart and you’ll be able to bury your face in the sheet as you scream like there’s no other man in this world.

and fuck you seokjin did.

all the way till morning.

until you’re sore and weeping.

and even then, you rub your puffy eyes and ask, “can we go for another round?”

seokjin looks at you with rounded eyes. he looks like the unsuspecting, as pure as the driven snow boy you knew back home.

a kiss lands on your forehead as you feel the soft sheets get pulled over your body, “maybe after we get some sleep and food in you.”

x

when morning comes, you find yourself in a too-large empty bed. no matter how far you try to reach the other side, it’d still feel cold and lonely.

“‘daddies are busy men, they always leave in the morning’.” you murmur the words jennie kim used to say to you back when you first started—in the beginning, it sounded humorous but over time, you find yourself mimicking her speech under your breath before slipping out of bed and walking to the shower bare naked.

your ass is stinging and you’re walking funny but it could be worse; you thought you wouldn’t be able to walk at all. the warm seems to wash away the knots in your muscles but also make your insides tingle with the residue of last night’s fucking.

your heart makes a funny flip at the thought that you wouldn’t be able to experience something so beautiful and feral and raw like that again.

biting your lower lip, you let your hand snake down in between your legs. but after five minutes and being nowhere near to the exhilarating sensation that kim seokjin made you feel. in the end, you give up and opt for taking an actual shower, lathering the floral scented hotel-branded shower gel and decent-smelling shampoo.

when you step out of the shower in just a towel and a towelette wrapped around your head as your eyes settle on a masculine figure standing by the bed, your first instinct is to scream. before you know it, your hand is moving on its own as it reaches up to the damp towelette, tearing it off your head and tossing it in the intruder’s direction.

except it wasn’t an intruder.

“do you do this often? get shy and scream like you never begged me fuck you while crying like a baby?” seokjin doesn’t even bat an eye as the towel falls off his face and onto the floor.

at the mention of your spilled tears, your cheeks heat up and your stomach churns. “i lost myself for a little bit,” you shrug, ambling towards him—particularly the box at the end of the bed that he was in the middle of placing before your fight or flight instinct kicked it, “i thought you were some perverted hotel staff who snuck in after you left.”

“you—” seokjin begins but clamps his mouth shut, staring wordlessly before shaking his head, “what do you take me for? i’m not gonna leave someone’s daughter alone at the hotel after i…” he says grimly but it soon disappears after he meets your eyes, “did that happen before? men creeping into your hotel room?” seokjin’s furrowed stare pierces through your soul but you pretend to lift the lid of the peach colored box casually.

“no, but a friend went through that once—oh, cute.” you blink at the pastel violet dress. the diamonds wink at you as they scatter across the neckline and seem to disappear as it disperses down the chest area.

the other box that lies next to it bears the signature black and pink colors of victoria’s secret. you don’t need to inquire what those are. stull, you take a sweep about the room and notice the lack of mess you’ve both made out of your clothes that should be littered all over the floor but are gone.

the only unfixable mess is possibly the bed. the duvet is lying on the ground next to the floor, one corner of the fitted sheet came off and the pillows… where did all the pillows go?

come to think of it, you did spot one in the second sink.

“they’re not for you.” seokjin says simply and you hum.

“and who are they for? the cleaning lady down the hall?” the towel wrapped around you slips off your body and pools around your ankles before you put on the surprisingly simple cotton black panties. the bra comes next to which you don’t miss a chance to gather your hair over your shoulder and turn your back on him, “be a darling and hook them up for me.”

“why? can’t they be for the cleaning lady?” he counters yet  his finger pads ghost over your smooth back and sends shivers down your spine. for the briefest moment, you thought about pushing him on the bed, crawling over him and trapping him underneath you as you pulled out his surely erected dick and rode him.

but the thought gets flushed down the drain when a callus fingertip trails down your spine and lingers just above the band of the panties he got you.

you twirl around, standing on the tip of your toes before placing a light kiss on his cheek which starts going pink and blushing. seokjin’s eyes go wide, one brow lifted in mild curiosity.

you peer at him through your lashes, blinking innocently, “thank you, daddy.”

and then, you push him to the bed—it’s surprisingly easy, considering how he’s a man twice your size, “and i’ll show it to you.”

“by all means,” seokjin offers as he watches with darkened eyes, you lowering yourself in what would be his lap if he was sitting. you giggle at the noticeable bulge that brushes your apex as your hand snakes up to unbutton his crisp white shirt—it must be new, probably came in along with your gifts.

“no,” his hand curls around your wrist and you feel the twinge of rejection in your heart, but it patches itself up when his next words hit your ears like an invitation to treat, “you only need my dick, don’t you?”

he unbuckles his belt and pulls the zipper down. you lick your bottom lip as you pull his semi-hard erection through the hole of his boxer. his fingers feel too rough against your sensitive flesh as he helps push the panties to the side as you lower yourself on him and sigh in pure bliss at the feeling of being filled to the brim.

x

an hour later, you find yourself having tasmanian salmon fillet with dutch carrot purée rolled in and presented by the chef himself with your legs tingling from the aftermath of your…. gracious expression for the gifts while the chef was sweating bullets for some reason.

still, his eyes are twinkling with a sort of anticipation before seokjin said a ‘thank you, it’s an honor to have chef lee himself present us the dish’ with finality in his voice. chef lee’s shoulderline sags as if he wants to say more but he bows and leaves like a trained professional.

all the while, you’ve already dug in, humming a happy tune in your head as you relish in the creamy puree taste that tones down the lime in the salmon. the cheeriness in your face doesn’t go away even when you catch seokjin staring at you like a predator eyeing a bunny. though you do take a sip of the orange juice and clear your throat.

“shoot. i know you have questions.” you announce.

“i thought your monthly pocket money is enough to buy a good apartment in myeongdong.” it’s a statement, not a question.

“it is, this is just a hobby.” you shrug.

seokjin doesn’t say anything. he just drills holes inside your head until you obnoxiously sigh.

“it’s exciting… siphoning money off lonely old men, i mean.” a giggle escapes your lips at the remembrance of the shocked and offended faces throughout your… career.

and you’ve only been doing this for a year.

“since sugarlite doesn’t let you see each other’s face, you’ll only know once you meet. but both parties have the right to walk away with a little penalty fee.” you explain, a coquettish smile on your lips, “they didn’t think the baby would be the one to cancel so it’s a big fuck you in their face when i do—you should’ve seen the expression they make!”

“huh,” seokjin breathes out as if he didn’t expect that.

“not all of them are old grumps though, sometimes there are hidden gems. young, fuckable daddies. they’re a little fucked up in the head, but that’s what makes the sugar life fun,” your left foot is running up the smooth, almost silken material of seokjin’s pants — particularly his leg.

“i don’t—” he tries to deny but you cut him off.

“i like your belt,” you offer, foot perched on seokjin’s knee, “personally, i think tom ford is the least abrasive but if we’re talking about quality, givenchy is—“

the screech of the chair against the floor is what makes you swallow your words as you inhale sharply. it takes seokjin two steps to cross the distance between you and him. his hands find themselves on either side of the hand rest of your chair. there’s a fire in your stomach that threatens to light up your entire body as seokjin swiftly pulls the chair to turn you away from the table and face him.

“get up. turn around. one knee on the chair.” he instructs and you oblige, swallowing thickly as you feel the breeze in between your legs when a large, warm hand pushes your skirt up to rest on your hips.

the first strike has you gasping as if you didn’t believe that the gentle, unsuspecting young boy you once knew would know how to use his belt on a woman. the second time, you know to sink your teeth in the tender flesh of your bottom lip. but somewhere along the line, you left your pride where no one could see and flinched and moaned as the sound of leather smacking against skin rang in the air. your nails dig into the wooden material of the backrest, you almost think it’s either going to break underneath your grasp or you’re the one going to break.

it’s only after the tenth strike that he places a hand on your stinging left cheek and kisses the other softly.

that duality of kim seokjin drives you mad.

seokjin fucks you raw and just like in the bedroom, he simply pushed your panties out of the way and slides right into you without so much as a warning—you’re not embarrassed of your sexuality; actually you’re far too comfortable in your own skin to be, but—that’s when the most embarrassing moan escapes your lips. you think you sound like one of those girls who pretended to moan for the camera but felt nothing. but you stand here, fucked and sated and corrected.

x

for the next few months you’ve been dropping by seokjin’s office unannounced whenever you needed a good fuck because college’s been giving you a rough time. he booked you whenever you’re available but even if he didn’t, you’d still let him fuck you when he showed up on your doorstep in the early ams. tousled hair, the first two buttons of his shirt undone, tie hanging and looking fuckable than the crisp suit, slicked back hair ceo his workers knew him as.

you hide behind the guise of being almost-like-family and the female workers swoon over the side of seokjin that laughed and joked with you as they watched you walk out of his office and towards the elevator. little did they know, he’d shove his tongue down your throat in that fleeting moment of the elevator going down.

they thought kim seokjin was a loving brother to his almost-like-sister.

your father, your mother, seokjin’s mother and seokjin’s father do too. and you suppose that’s why his father has been calling you more often than you like, inquiring about his son whom you somehow managed to get through when not even him or his wife manage to achieve such an arduous feat.

“i don’t know uncle kim,” you hold in an agitated sigh; your father gave your number to seokjin’s father without your permission and he’s been calling you everyday to ask about his estranged son, “se—oppa’s pretty busy even on the weekends—how do i know? it’s ‘cause i’ve been bugging him to give me some of his time since it’s been so long but he won’t budge! people saw us having lunch together? i forced him to get out of his dreadful office, uncle kim!”

you throw in a fake giggle with that poorly constructed excuse.

“i see,” uncle kim sighs, resigned, “well, next time you see him. tell him to come home sometimes, yeah?”

“sure will,” the tone you use gets sweeter when you smell the goodbye approaching.

with a well wish on your studies, uncle kim finally lets you hang up. you toss your phone to the side as soon as you do, turning to face the complacently smiling man next to you as he plays with your nipple.

“how long are you planning to be a rebellious son of a conglomerate family?” you quiz, a stern look on your face but it melts away as soon as you gaze into those deep brown eyes you find yourself getting lost in.

as much as you hate to admit it, kim seokjin has that effect on you.

“thanks for handling him so politely,” is all seokjin offers.

“i should at least do that much for fucking his son behind his— oh.” your eyes glint with pleasant surprise, the hand that seokjin held and guided in between his legs, is stroking him teasingly.

it doesn’t take long for you to climb over him, the sheets slipping off your bare bodies.

“it can’t be helped, i need to take care of my own daddy,” you giggle, rubbing yourself against him.

and take care of him you do. after the third time you met and the—you lost count of how many times you went at it by then, you know just how to move your hips to get him gripping onto the duvet and moaning in pleasure. the first time you made him cum so hard while riding him, the skin on your hips and ass got marred with bruises, seokjin apologized profusely and had flowers sent to you in the middle of class.

some envious souls side-eyed you for the disturbance and maybe there’s a rumor spreading around about you fucking a way older man—more ancient than seokjin—but that was easily dealt with by cornering shin jimin and showing her a video of her and professor haejung fucking in the back building of the architecture faculty.

another month passes until kim seokjin shows up at your doorsteps with flushed cheeks and an overwhelming scent of alcohol accompanying him.

“gosh, why did secretary min have to push this on me?” you complain as you drag the barely conscious kim seokjin to your bed, his hand feels like a ton of rocks on your shoulder and his body is at risk of dragging you down to the ground if he trips on one of the random things you have lying around on the floor.

luckily, the moment his body descends, it’s to lie on the mattress. because of his large stature, he’s spread like a starfish on your bed which means it’s the couch you’re sleeping on tonight.

that, you don’t mind.

the problem—the actual one that has you sighing in serious contemplation—is his innocent sleeping face with his eyelashes brushing the top of his cheek, his light skin somehow glowing with pinkness of the alcohol and his half-parted lush lips that look so kissable right now. they’re a glaring contrast to his stone hard chest and abs—you don’t need to squint to see the outlines of his abdominal muscles underneath his flimsy shirt. and you’re trying so hard not to look at the noticeable tent in his pants as he lies spread eagle on your bed.

“seriously,” you murmur under your breath as you sit on the edge of the bed, pushing his overgrown bangs out of his closed eyes, “how many hearts did you break in the last 10 years?”

in terms of looks, body and personality, kim seokjin has it all.

and you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t palpitate in his presence even when you’re doing nothing but spending quality time, trying out new restaurants before your heart beats a different rhythm when he gets you behind closed doors.

you suck in a much needed breath of strength, “i’m just doing this because it’d be uncomfortable to sleep in those pants.”

your hand hovers above the bulge, quivering from your barely-held-together self-restraint as your fingers run over the shiny metallic buckle of his belt. but before you can even touch it, a hand clasps around your wrist and you feel frost seep into your bones.

it’s almost like the feeling of being caught red handed stealing cookies from the jar by your mother.

seokjin’s dark gaze settles on you like winter.

“i-i can explain, i wasn’t trying to nail you while you were drunk and unconsenting, i—“ you choke on your words as you feel yourself being pulled down and into a pair of muscular arms.

they’re warm and secure and surprisingly gentle. like a child holding onto his teddy bear as he sleeps.

seokjin’s velvety voice comes out hoarse but you can clearly make out the words he’s saying, “stay with me tonight.”

silence lulls in the shadows of your dimly lit room. seokjin’s steady heartbeat drums in your ears as he holds you against his chest. the warmth from his embrace doesn’t feel too much. it feels just right.

you yawn.

yeah, this feels just right.

when morning comes, you’re awoken by the sound of something loud hitting the ground. you grumble in curses, pulling the blanket over your head and turning the other side in hopes of putting whatever noise just now behind you. but then comes the next clang! and it sounds awfully close—like in-your-house kind of close.

the culprit of the noise is hunched over in your kitchen—it was a perfect fit for you but now it looks tiny and barely able to accommodate this giant of a man.

“whatcha doin’, daddy?” you ask just as the sound of glass scraping against glass hits the air.

seokjin turns to you with wide eyes—the kind of eyes of a man caught red handed. a second later, he’s yanking his hand away from the ground, hissing “ah, fuck!”

red oozes out of his index finger and you pad over quietly, tugging on his uninjured hand and making him sit on the stool you pulled out.

“i was trying to make coffee,” seokjin mumbles dejectedly.

he looks like the coffee machine insulted him by not working when he needed it to and when he tried tweaking it, he accidentally knocked over the mug and sent it crashing against the ground.

the first sound was the mug, the second one was a glass you left on the counter last night after drinking some water before secretary min knocked on your door and dumped a certain drunken man in your care. he knocked over that one in his fright of knocking over the pastel green mug that has cute cat ears on it.

“if i didn’t like you, i would’ve said you owed me a new coffee machine for breaking mine but i like you and the coffee machine broke yesterday while i was trying to make some coffee for myself.” you giggle.

you gently grasp his hand with yours, and guide his finger to your parted lips. the metallic taste of the blood makes you cringe but it goes away sooner rather than later. you run your tongue over his fingerpad, lapping over it until you’re sure that it stopped bleeding.

when you steal a glance through your lashes, you find yourself staring at a blushing kim seokjin. his face is tinted pink all the way to the tip of his ears and neck. your lips curl into a smile on their own. you push your hair to the back of your ear demurely, making sure to flutter your lashes twice before taking him in till his second knuckle.

the moment he audibly breathes in, you know you have him by the neck. but instead of giving into his desires like seokjin usually would, he presses his thumb on your bottom lip until you part your mouth enough for him to pull his finger, glistening with your saliva, out.

seokjin leans his head against yours and you’re reminded of the first night you spent together. he hasn’t done that once since then and for some reason, the mere fact that he’s came to you drunk, didn’t even try to fuck you in his drunken state when he should be horny as a bunny at the sight of you like he usually is and should be even more so with the influence of alcohol—sends a sense of trepidation in your heart.

you tilt your head ever so gently, brushing your lips with his. there’s no denying the flutter of your heart when he smiles against your lips but the sense of dread doesn’t go away when he kisses you—perhaps it’s because this kiss lingers longer than the kisses he gives you.

“i wanted to see you before i leave,” seokjin’s voice sounds heartbreakingly melodic to your ears.

he sometimes sings to you after you’re both spent and curled up against each other. but this time, it’s not the smooth velvety tone you want to hear. it’s—

“i’m free this sunday,” you offer.

it’s the kiss he places on your forehead and the trudge to your tiny storage door where you keep your broom—that makes your heart wretch inside your chest.

“do me a favor,” he says teasingly, “sit still and don’t move while i clean mymess.”

you have a habit of telling him to go sit somewhere whenever he makes a mess out of something in either yours or his place. it’s mostly because he proves that he’s only good with gadgets and answering calls while fucking you doggy style.

“alrighty, daddy,” you sing-song, skipping over to the couch where you can pretend to be on your phone while stealing glances at the giant who goes around, sweeping the floor and dumping the scattered glasses into a separate plastic bag before dumping that plastic bag into the bin.

seokjin smelled of floral mist—the bath & body work shower gel you keep in the bathroom—so once he’s done, there’s no enticing him for shower sex. and his self-restraint is surprisingly rock solid today so morning sex won’t work either—you tried with the finger-throating.

once he’s done, you’re standing in the doorway with the blazer secretary min placed on your couch before he wheezed out the door like the devil was after him. this feels oddly domestic—you holding the blazer for seokjin to put on and him, placing a kiss on each of your cheek like he doesn’t have a semi-erection painfully bulging in his pants.

“see you later,” is all seokjin says before he steps out of the door of your apartment.

to say you never saw your unanswered text and rejected phone calls coming, would be a big blatant lie.

x

two weeks later, you’re sighing for the third time of the day in the cafe at your college. seokjin stopped replying to your text on both imessage and sugarlite and you’re not one to grovel over a man’s feet—even if that man is kim seokjin and he makes your heart flutter.

“okay, what’s wrong?” kim jongin slams his chopsticks down with a hint of irritation and urgency.

“it’s nothing…” you trail off despite feeling all five pairs of eyes on you.

“we’re gonna say ‘oh come on, it’s not nothing when you’re sighing like a wife who knows her husband is cheating’ and you’re gonna say ‘it’s nothing’ for the second time and we’ll go on like this back and forth until you finally spill the tea so why don’t we just cut to the chase and get to the part where you do be spilling the hot mess of a tea?” hwang yeji goes off before she looks at you with a ‘you know i’m right’ look.

so you sigh again before finally bearing your worries and sorrows to your friends, “what does it mean when a guy you kinda had a thing with, comes to you drunk, doesn’t even try to cop a feel and then just disappears the next day?”

silence hovers over the table of six for the longest moment before jung wooyoung speaks, “he just needed a place to crash and a bolster.”

“nope,” shin yoona shakes her head in protest, “are we talking about an ex because it sounds like we’re talking about an ex?”

“yeah, sure, an ex,” you shrug, not really seeing the difference between being acquaintances and meeting again ten years later to fuck every chance you get as if you’re making up for lost time.

“that means he still loves you but he can’t be with you for some reason,” the auburn haired girl surmises.

“if you ask me, he sounds like a douche and a pussy,” lee chaeryeong says simply, digging into her spaghetti bologna.

“i know what can help with that,” jongin chirps, waving around a fry in your face as if it’s some fairy god mother’s wand.

him, yeji, yoona and chaeryeong are sharing a look you know too well. but you humor him anyway. “and that is?”

“club night!” yeji screams in your ear, her slender arms wrapped around your waist, squealing with excitement.

x

new year rolls around and marks the sixth month of the demise of your prolonged summer fling with kim seokjin which turned into the iciest winter too fast, too soon.

and on some nights, you lie awake in your bed, recollecting the times you spent with kim seokjin. whenever you’re not trying to seduce him while you’re out in public, you’re laughing your heart out over his unexpectedly good-but-bad dad jokes.

said night happens to be last night and you had to wake up at asscrack o’clock because your mother sent mr. jung to pick you up because you have dinner with the kim’s at eight and your family, namely you and your mother, has a tradition of spending five hours at a salon before the annual dinner.

so when you step out of your room after changing into a pastel pink dress and hear your dad roaring with laughter more than he usually would from the dining room with a “ah you really grew up to be your father’s son,”—you thought this was some bad, horrible, messed up dream.

“seokjin?” you feel your blood run cold as your stomach knots with unrest at the sight of the familiar face sitting across from your dad, facing the doorway where you’re standing.

he went easy on the hair gel tonight, letting his bangs cover his smooth forehead instead of having them slicked back like he usually would. and he foregone the blazer and vest—though he keeps the white button down underneath—for a beige sweater. round glasses perch perfectly on his nose and add to the casual, domestic look he’s going for.

the tinted bottle lying lonely on the table and the champagne glasses in your father and uncle kim’s hands tells you that they started drinking while waiting for dinner to be served. seokjin looks like 10 years have been taken off him with the white mickey mouse mike and chocolate malt drink of his.

“____, come help me with dinner,” your mother calls from the kitchen, unsuspecting of the tangible tension that hangs in the air as seokjin cast his gaze down to the hot chocolate mug that looks miniature in his hands but would need you to hold it with both hands because of its weight and how mugs are generally a bit big for you.

“but you have 10 helpers already crowding the kitchen.” you say unironically, watching the workers go back and forth behind your mother and auntie kim, carrying various plates of dishes.

silene lulls in the air for the longest moment as you feel eyes on you.

your dad is the first to break it, laughing, “____’s been stressed out with college lately, it’s her final year.”

“did she forget her manners in college too?” uncle kim backhandedly comments as the two elder men’s laughter fills the air.

that’s when a laugh forces its way out of you, cheeks hot with embarrassment and rage, “i didn’t expect seokjin-oppa to join us.”

“oh my, i didn’t tell you because i thought you’d know. you got closer recently, right?” your mother’s brows furrow with distress.

“yes, but seokjin-oppa must’ve forgot to tell me. he’s been super busy lately, right, oppa?” you shoot a faux smile at the aforementioned man’s way.

his unreadable dark eyes meet you for the briefest moment before he turns them to your mother, “luxean is expanding into the uk, telling ____ about coming home completely slipped my mind.” laughter trickles from his mouth, “guess, it makes for a great belated christmas surprise?”

“a very pleasant surprise,” you thank the gods that your voice doesn’t break as your words draw his gaze back to you, those enigmatic eyes boring into yours so you add, “oppa.”

“speaking of which, boy, when are you going to come over to jessom?” your father quizzes. jessom inc. is the company seokjin’s grandfather started and uncle kim took over after the old man died.

“there’s still a lot to do at luxean as the ceo before i can resign, uncle hwang,” is all the younger man offers, chuckling—even that sound feels natural.

it’s as if the girl he fucked for three months and ghosted isn’t standing 10 feet away from him, barely keeping her wits together.

“i’ve been trying to get him to join the team and he says this every damn time,” uncle kim sighs, tilting the wine glass to his mouth.

you end up joining your mother at the kitchen, standing in front of the chocolate mousse, running your fingerpad over the rounded edge as the sound of your mother and auntie kim not-so-discreetly gossip about some ha yeonhwa’s failed third marriage while your dad and uncle kim talk about the falling stocks of luxean. and all yet the sound of your heartbeat drowns out the conversation as you find yourself glaring at the one man who hasn’t spoken a word since the last time he was directly asked by your dad.

“when are you going to introduce your girlfriend to your pops and uncle, boy?”

seokjin shakes his head with a practiced smile on his lips, “i don’t have the time to date.”

‘cause you were busy fucking the girl you’re supposed to see as your little sister.’ the words teeter on your tongue but don’t quite make it out.

the rage that lights up in the pit of your stomach doesn’t burn out even as you sit across seokjin once the helpers set up the table and what would have been a savory mouth-watering smell of the grilled kashmiri land is nothing but a slab of meat sitting in your plate. but you’ve managed to reign over your emotions enough not to explode in front of your family.

“can you pass me the salt, dad?” you ask, sickly sweet—a tone seokjin is no stranger to.

“thank you, daddy.” you smile at your dad who gazes over you with unsuspecting adoration—he’s probably glad that you’re back to yourself again.

that is, until the sound of someone choking draws his attention. kim seokjin has hand clasped over his mouth as his shoulderline shakes while he coughs.

“are you okay, oppa?” you flutter your lashes, making sure your brows knit with concern.

despite his coughing fit, he struggles to nod, a hand held up to say he just needs a moment. uncle kim indicates for one of the helpers to pour some water for his son before he hands it over to seokjin, hand patting his back like that’ll help.

the rest of the dinner goes by without a hitch. the smiles and giggles that pour out of your mouth are uncannily well crafted. then comes the post-dinner drinking session where uncle kim would usually get himself drunk and slurring and bawling over his estranged son.

but since seokjin suddenly came back—you suspect some time after he started ghosting you—uncle kim has been holding his liquor pretty well. him and auntie kim have been smiling more too, sitting side by side on the white couch, uncle kim’s arm is around auntie kim’s shoulder. the cordial atmosphere is possibly what makes your father compliment your mother’s beauty and her giggling bashfully, calling him an “old sap”. pun intended.

you rise from your seat in the one-person couch, heading over to the kitchen where you pop another bottle of wine, fill the glass up to the brim and down the fizzy golden alcohol once before strutting over to the hallway where the game room lies.

but before your perfectly manicured nails brush the handle of the door, it twists and the door swings open, revealing a surprised-looking kim seokjing.

your name spills out of his lush lips without him realizing it. the astonishment flashes across your eyes for the briefest moment before you notice the phone in his hand with its screen still lit. seokjin has been gone for the last 15 minutes after he excused himself for a phone call.

“i borrowed the game room since it’s soundproof for a call from work, hope you don’t mind.” he says with far too much ease, you feel your eyebrow twitching.

those thick brows are ever so relaxed while yours are furrowed as if you’re born like that. yet you take in one deep, much needed breath and exhale. placing the champagne glass on the tall black console pressed up against the wall—the helpers will get that once they do a last sweep before going home—and turn on your heels, the clicking sound echoing in the air.

“w-wait,wait—!” a voice calls from where you left a gawking kim seokjin.

a moment later, fingers curl around your wrist and stop you in your trek but you yank your hand back, twirling around and shoving him against the wall. those darkened eyes widen seokjin’s mouth parts and snaps shut twice before he breathes out, startled yet awed.

“what?” you spit out, hands pressed up against the wall on both sides of his shoulders which seem to be rising up just the slightest bit.

“you look great,” there’s a sort of tremble in seokjin’s voice—the only time he ever chokes on his words is when you’re on top of him. it always gets him.

you roll your eyes, “that’s a fact. tell me something i don’t know but deserve to.”

“we should go in first,” he tilts his head towards the ajar door of the game room.

“i’m good,” you shrug.

seokjin’s stare bore into you for the longest time before he finally sighs, his breath fanning your face gently.

“i know what i did could get me an award for the worst man you’ve ever known.” he begins and you scoff.

“theaudacity to think you deserve an award.” you blink as though surprised before shaking your head with an unfazed expression, “appalling, truly.”

his lips press into a thin line as his brows knit together almost painfully, gaze clouded with unspoken words. there’s a sudden urge to wrap your arms around him and slap his dumb handsome face all at once. but you grit your teeth, seething silently as you keep him trapped between you and the wall.

a sense of deja vu washes over you.

yet instead of looking back at the night in the bar with revered melancholy, your heart thumps and writhes in your chest as it heaves from the sporadic inhale and exhale of air. that is, until you feel all the energy in your body drain and your hands fall to your sides. you feel the soft fuzzy material of seokjin’s sweater on your skin as you lay your head on his shoulder.

“you fucking idiot,” you want to scream but it comes out barely above whisper.

“i know,” he murmurs back.

his hand is warm on your back and his other hand is gently combing through your hair. you stay like that, in the silence of your breathing and the distant echo of laughter down the hallway, here but separate from the world.

“will you ever tell me?” you ask because—“ it’s okay if you don’t want to explain and it’s okay if you’ll leave without saying anything but i don’t think i’ll be able to live  like this never happened and go on to be the almost-like-family our parents want us to be.”

but seokjin sighs and it sounds like a man who’s taken off his armor.

“my dad found out about us. i don’t know how but he showed up that night,” he doesn’t need to explain which night ‘that night’ was; seokjin came to you drunk and held you all night like you’re his world, “asked me to at least go for a drink with ‘this old man that’s not got much time left in the world’. showed me a picture of you and me hugging in front of your apartment and told me if i don’t come back, he’ll tell uncle hwang.”

his shoulder line rises and falls as sighs heavily.

at that, you tear yourself off him, eyes fierce and mind clearer than it ever was, “i fucking knew it! you couldn’t have left me because i’m me—i’m perfect. but uncle kim—i always knew he was a sly fox.” you mull audibly, hand on your chin, nibbling your bottom lip as if you’d chew that man’s head off if not for the repercussions of doing so.

seokjin blinks. once. lush lips parted as he stares at you with a mixture of disbelief and relief, “you’re not… mad?”

“no, i was really mad and—and i wanted to slap you but i didn’t,” you coo, cupping his cheeks, “because look at this handsome face.”

seokjin’s  shoulderline sags, as if the tons of weight of his shoulders have been lifted, his adam’s apple bobs as though he’s about to say praise to the gods but before he can say anything, you’re already gripping both of his wrists with all your might.

“let’s get rid of him.” you announce, eyes glinting.

“sorry—what?” seokjin blinks, brows rising, all the gentleness in them replaced with confusion, “i don’t like my dad either but i’m not about to commit—”

“then,” you guide his hands to cup your soft ample breasts, “i’ll be able to fuck whenever i want.”

“you mean ‘we’llbe able to fuck whenver we want’.” he recovers quickly, copping a feel of your breasts, a familiar lustrous gleam in his eyes.

just as the sound of voices echoing louder in the hallway, you say, “seokjin, do you trust me?”

it takes moment for him to study your expression, the fanatical playfulness has disappeared, replace with a sort of unshaken resolve if so much as says—

“with all my life.”

and with that, you stand on the tip of your toes, hands grabbing a handful of his shirt before pulling him in and crashing your lips together. he tastes like vanilla and chocolate from the mousse you had for dessert.

for some reason he’s turned down both the 1989 cabernet sauvignon twice, once during dinner and another time when everyone sat down in the common area.you find yourself licking his lips, imploring. a delighted sigh escapes your lips when seokjin’s mouth parts, his tongue brushing against the tip of your own pink organ but before you can go further than this, a shrill tears your eardrums apart.

“kim seokjin! hwang ____!

auntie kim stands at the other end of the hallway, eyes rounded and jaws on the ground. there’s a garnet stain on her chest, a glaring difference to the peach pastel color of her dress. but it couldn’t compare to the crimson on her face—if you squint, you think you see smoke coming out of her ears.

“oops,” you mumble, hand on your mouth as you blink innocently.

yet it’s the hand on your waist that makes your heart stutter in your chest. he leans down, his fresh, marine cologne filling your senses, his breath on your neck is hot, “if we walk out of here unscathed, you’re deleting the sugarlite app in front of me.”

you make a sound between a snort and a scoff, “the audacity is impeccable, kim seokjin.”

“you two! to the common room. rightnow.” auntie kim’s nose flares as she orders—the fact that you just laughed in her face after getting caught french kissing her son is probably part of the reason.

x

“what—how—i can’t do this,” auntie kim sniffles, heart on his chest as the other massages her temple.

it looks like the shock just added 10 years to her age.

you sit next to seokjin on the three person couch while the elders sit in front of you. auntie kim is on the one-person sofa with uncle kim leaning against the side of the sofa, his eyes focused on your every movement like an eagle sizing up a little rat. if you squint, you think you see his nose flaring. your father is leaned up against the console adjacent to you, his expression unreadable and your mother is sitting next to auntie kim, jaw dropped to the ground.

seokjin sits in poised elegance next to you, brows set in a strong unwavering line, making his eyes all the more forbidding.

“are you sure, sunghee?” your father asks slowly, his voice raspier than usual.

“i saw them shoving their  tongues in each other’s mouths for heaven’s sake, i may be old but i’m not blind, daesong.” she snaps.

the room falls silent once again as your mother’s quivering voice hits the air, “i… how long has this been going on?”

she looks up at you, eyes glittering like shattered pieces of glass. you would be lying if you said your heart isn’t palpitating in your chest. yet you’re unsure if it’s remorse or hurt because she’s looking at you as though you’ve committed the worst crime: tainting the family’s honor.

“six months.” seokjin says firmly, “ever since we started getting in touch again.”

the implication of you being in a relationship—is this even that though? you’re not sure—from the moment you first started talking again causes your mother to let out a woeful sob.

“and,” you place a hand on seokjin’s hand that’s resting on his thigh, making him turn to you as he places his free hand on top of your hand that’s on the one on his thigh, “three weeks since we found out we’re pregnant.”

all of a sudden, a weep echoes in the room and you think you hear the sound of something breaking somewhere. yet seokjin’s expression remains uncannily neutral. the only indication he’s surprised is the way his dark gaze lights up with surprise yet before you can confirm whether that minuscule twinkle in his eyes is felicity, your father grabs seokjin by the shirt and swings his fist right into seokjin’s handsome face.

“dad!” that’s the first real scream that erupted from you.

seokjin heaves out an antagonized sigh, face contorting with pain and the impact of the blow. but he doesn’t even dodge the second one even if he saw it coming, staring right into your father’s eyes.

and he would get a third blow if not for you.

“stop! uncle kim knows too!” you shriek just as your father raises his fist once more, his blood-flecked eyes burning with rage but for a different reason now, “uncle kim knows and threatened oppa to come home or he’ll tell you about us!”

“daesong, i—i didn’t tell you because the kids looked so happy together,” uncle kim pushes himself off the armrest and stands almost defensively as lies pour out of his mouth.

unfortunately for him, he’s a man.

a sob leaves your lips as you suppress the rest of your sniffles with a hand clasped against your mouth, “uncle kim forced us to break up even though we tried explaining. just now was a mistake,” you watch seokjin’s bruised face turn to you in your periphery, the wince washed away by your weeping declaration, “seokjin was ready to leave everything behind but i—i couldn’t bear to give the child up for adoption and when we met today—i’m sorry, i kissed you.” you look into seokjin’s stricken eyes, your vision blurred with crocodile tears.

“don’t be sorry,” seokjin says calmly, his hand twitches to touch caress your face but you father yanks him away from you.

“because he’s going to get married to chae seoyeon!” uncle kim’s voice rises in a mix of ludicrosity and frustration, “and the baby—is it even seokjin’s?”

chae soyeon. that’s not a foreign name. there’s only one chae family who has a daughter at a marriageable age with a legacy of a hundred years behind her.

“namjung, you…” you father trails off, hands falling to his side as he turns to stand directly in front of uncle kim.

upon his release, seokjin finds his way to your side, his arm around your shoulder as he pulls you into him. it’s almost as though he’s trying to shield you away from his father and the world.

“dad, that’s enough.” seokjin says calmly but his voice is ridden with icicles—you feel a chill go down your spine.

it doesn’t take a genius to know that he willingly let your dad hit him. if seokjin wanted to, he would’ve been able to throw both of your fathers off him if they came at him together.

you glare tearfully at the elder man, “i’m sorry, uncle kim, you may be older and the father of my child’s dad but—i can’t let you insult me like this.”

“insult—!” uncle kim echoes in disbelief, “if you hadn’t been such a sly fox—“

“watch your mouth, namjung, that’s my daughter you’re talking about.” your father interjects, his voice chilling your bones.

“oh, as if you don’t know what that minx is capable of.” auntie kim laments.

“____ is nine years younger than seokjin! he should’ve known better than to let this go on the moment he starts developing feelings for a girl he’s supposed to be taking care of like a little sister!