The Queen Is Back - Blog Posts

★6ix 9ine. Kozume!

౨ৎ :: masterlist. reblogs are appreciated.

•warning: sub!kenma, fem reader, mommy is used twice, edging, dirty talk, edging, and 69

•hi im back and too lazy to proof read so yeh

You had been friends with Kenma for what felt like forever. Late-night gaming sessions, takeout on weekends, and inside jokes that no one else would get. He was always a little distant, a little hard to read, but you liked that about him. So when he finally agreed to go out drinking with you after months of dodging your invites, you were genuinely surprised.

What you didn’t expect was how much of a reaction you’d get when he saw you.

You kept it simple but intentional—tight black skirt that hugged your curves, sheer tights that shimmered under the bar lights, paired with heels that added just enough height to make you feel in control. It wasn’t over the top, but it was a far cry from the usual sweatpants and oversized hoodies he was used to seeing you in.

And Kenma?

He didn’t know how to handle it.

His eyes dragged over your legs, lingering way too long, and you caught the way he swallowed hard when you crossed them, the faintest blush already creeping up his neck. He tried to play it cool, mumbling something about how it wasn’t fair you didn’t tell him you were going to “dress like that,” but his usual deadpan delivery fell apart when he couldn’t stop staring.

Drink after drink made things worse. Kenma wasn’t a heavy drinker to begin with, but tonight he was matching your pace, and you could see the haze settling in his golden eyes. His cheeks were flushed, lips a little pouty, and his head kept dipping closer to you, leaning against your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmured at one point, nuzzling into your neck, his voice barely above a whisper but thick with heat. “Not fair…”

You laughed, but it only made him more clingy.

“Kozu,” you murmured, noticing the way his hand brushed against your thigh for the third time that evening. “You okay?”

“Mmhm.” He nodded, but his eyes were glued to your legs, his thumb brushing lightly along the hem of your skirt, almost like he didn’t realize he was doing it.

“Kozume.”

He finally looked up, and oh—he was gone.

Half-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide, and a dazed, almost dreamy look on his face.

“Hmm?”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “How many drinks have you had?”

“Dunno.” His voice was softer now, almost too soft, and there was a hint of a pout as he leaned in closer. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” His eyes flickered down to your legs again, and this time, he didn’t even pretend to look away. “You’re distracting me.”

You bit back a laugh, your fingers gently brushing through his hair as you tilted his head. “I’m distracting you?”

“Uh-huh.” He nuzzled into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before opening again, this time with a dangerous glint. “You did it on purpose.”

“Did what on purpose?”

Kenma’s lips twitched, his face inching closer until his breath was warm against your neck.

“Wore that.”

Your heart stopped.

“I—”

“Wanted me to look, didn’t you?” His voice was a quiet murmur, laced with a teasing edge that was so unlike him. But it wasn’t cocky. No—he sounded almost… shy. Like he was embarrassed by how obvious he was being but couldn’t stop himself.

And you?

You were loving it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whispered back, but the slight hitch in your voice betrayed you.

“Liar.” His lips brushed dangerously close to your neck now, and you could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

“You’re being bold,” you murmured, your fingers tightening ever so slightly in his hair.

“Maybe…” He paused, his lips grazing just below your ear. “…it’s the alcohol.”

You were about to respond—probably something witty, something that would throw him off—

But then?

Kenma whined.

It was soft, barely audible, but oh you heard it.

And it sent a shockwave straight through you.

“Y/n,” he mumbled, pressing his forehead against your shoulder now, his body practically melting into yours. “You’re not being fair.”

“What’s not fair?” You smirked, though your pulse was racing.

“You look…” He trailed off, his words slurring just a little.

“I look what, Kenma?”

“…too good.”

Oh.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, but before you could say anything, Kenma tilted his head up to meet your gaze.

And that’s when you saw it.

The raw, unfiltered want in his eyes.

His lips brushed against your skin, and you felt the heat of his breath send a shiver down your spine.

“Getting needy, huh?” you teased, but that was a mistake. His grip on your thigh tightened, and when he shifted just slightly, you felt it—hard and pressing against your side.

“Please…” His voice was barely a whisper, broken and desperate, and you could feel the way he was trembling. “Take me home… I don’t wanna be here anymore…”

You should’ve said no. Should’ve teased him a little more, made him squirm. But the way he looked up at you, glassy-eyed and flushed, lip caught between his teeth as he rubbed his thigh against you—yeah, there was no way you were denying him.

————

By the time you got him back to your place, he was a mess. Clumsy fingers tugging at your waist, pressing his face into your neck again like he couldn’t get enough of you. But you weren’t about to let him off easy.

You didn’t even hesitate.

“Take off your jacket.”

Kenma paused for only a moment before he shrugged off his jacket, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. His movements were slow, deliberate—like he was trying to savor every moment of this intimacy. When he finally let the jacket fall to the floor, there was an unspoken silence between you, one that lingered like a charged current. His gaze flicked up to yours, his lips parted just slightly, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

You smirked.

“Now, your pants.”

Kenma’s chest rose and fell, his throat visibly tightening as he obediently reached for his belt. You could see him struggle—his hands shaking just enough for you to notice. His pride was still there, buried underneath the layers of self-doubt he’d never let anyone see. But tonight? Tonight, it was all yours to toy with.

“You’re so quiet,” you teased, stepping closer, your voice a whisper in his ear. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Kozume?”

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he bit his lip, looking like he was fighting the urge to speak. Finally, his voice broke through, soft but urgent.

“Y/n…” he murmured, almost too quietly for you to hear.

“Get on the bed,” you ordered, watching the way his eyes widened just slightly at your tone.

“But—”

“Now.”

He scrambled to obey, and fuck, he was already so far gone. His body was flushed, legs spread just enough as he settled onto the bed, waiting for you to make the next move.

“Such a good boy,” you murmured, settling yourself in between his legs, dragging your nails lightly over his thighs, watching the way he shivered under your touch. But when you gripped them tighter, fingers digging in just a little too hard, he let out the sweetest little whimper, back arching as he bit down on his lip.

“You like that?” you asked, barely masking your amusement.

“Mhm…” He nodded, but it wasn’t enough for you.

“Words, Kozume.”

“Yes,” he breathed, voice shaky. “Please…”

You tugged his hair back, forcing him to look up at you, and the way his pupils blew wide made you grin. “You’re so needy,” you cooed, leaning down just enough to brush your lips against his. “Whining for me like this… aren’t you embarrassed?”

“N-No…” But his voice betrayed him, cracking as he tried to deny it.

“Liar.” Your hand tangled in his hair, giving it a sharp tug that had him gasping.

“Ah—!”

His hips bucked, and you felt him throbbing beneath you, desperate and aching.

“Please,” he begged again, barely coherent now. “You’re being so mean…”

“Mean?” you echoed, arching a brow as you dragged your nails down his thigh again, leaving faint red lines in their wake.

He nodded, eyes glassy and wet, lips trembling as he squirmed under you. “But I like it…”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Oh, I know.”

You gazed down to see a wet spot in his boxers where his poor cock had been throbbing for much too long.

You dragged your teeth over your bottom lip, barely holding back a smirk as your fingers traced the outline of his aching tip through the damp fabric of his boxers. Kenma’s body tensed beneath your touch, his breath hitching before the sweetest little gasp spilled from his lips.

“Please…” he murmured, his voice soft and trembling, hips bucking into your hand as he shamelessly chased the friction he was so desperate for.

But you weren’t feeling generous—not yet.

You scoffed, pulling your hand away without warning, and before he could even whine, you delivered a sharp slap to his thigh.

“Ah—!” Kenma’s legs snapped shut instinctively, a shiver running through him as he let out a soft, broken whimper.

“Did I tell you to move?” Your voice was firm, a subtle edge of warning, and the way he blinked up at you, wide-eyed and obedient, had heat pooling between your thighs.

“I-I’m sorry mommy, please…” he whispered, his thighs slowly parting again, his body already begging to be touched.

You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, your eyes never leaving his as you leaned down, letting a slow, deliberate string of spit drip from your lips. It landed right on the tip of his cock, glistening as it slid down his length, and the reaction was immediate.

Kenma whimpered, his thighs twitching uncontrollably, his head thrashing softly against the pillow as a shaky breath escaped him.

“Hmm?” You tilted your head, running your hand along his slick length, your touch featherlight as you teased him. Your lips brushed against the shell of his ear, your voice a sultry purr.

“Did you really think…” you murmured, your fingers giving his cock a lazy stroke that had him squirming beneath you, “…that I was going to let you fuck me tonight?”

You felt the way his body stiffened, a soft, broken whine slipping past his lips as he turned his head toward you, his needy gaze pleading for something—anything.

“Aww…” you cooed, your tongue flicking against his ear as your grip tightened just enough to make him gasp. “Not tonight, baby.”

Your hand moved with agonizing slowness, every stroke deliberately teasing as you traced your thumb around his swollen tip, watching the way his cock twitched under your touch. You bit down on your bottom lip, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you expertly twisted your wrist, giving him just enough to keep him on edge—but never enough to let him tip over.

Soft, needy whimpers spilled from Kenma’s lips, his voice trembling as his glossy eyes stayed locked on you, pleading silently for more.

“Mmm… y-you’re so mean…” he murmured, his words barely coherent between his little gasps and moans.

But then his breath hitched, his body tensing as his hips started to buck into your hand, desperate for more friction.

“I-I’m close!” he squeaked out, his voice breaking as he tried to fuck into your fist, chasing his release.

But just when he was teetering on the edge, you pulled your hand away.

“Ah—wha—?!” Kenma’s hips bucked helplessly, his cock twitching as he thrust into the empty air, his body searching for the release you so cruelly denied him.

“Whyyy, Mommy?” His voice cracked as he looked up at you, tears slipping down his flushed cheeks, his bottom lip trembling as he whined in pure frustration.

You leaned back, a wicked smile tugging at your lips as you admired the sight of him—so needy, so helpless, and all yours.

“Aww, baby,” you cooed, brushing your fingers gently down his thigh. “Did you really think I was gonna let you finish that easily?”

“Don’t you think this is getting a little boring?” you murmured, your tone dripping with mischief as your fingers moved to the button of your skirt.

Kenma’s eyes, still glossy with unshed tears, flickered with a mix of curiosity and anticipation, his breath catching in his throat. He watched intently as you popped the button and slowly dragged the fabric down, revealing the black thigh-high garters hugging your legs—something you’d been hiding from him all night.

“Fuck…” he whispered, sitting up without thinking, his eyes wide and hungry as he took in the full view.

“Uh-uh.” You clicked your tongue, a teasing smile tugging at your lips as you shimmied out of your skirt, letting it pool at your feet. “Stay where you are, baby.”

But you didn’t miss the way his cock twitched, his breath growing heavier as you slid your panties down next, leaving nothing between you and his hungry gaze.

“Lay back,” you ordered softly, and Kenma obeyed without hesitation, his body sinking into the mattress, his eyes still glued to you as if he was completely under your spell.

You climbed on top of him, positioning yourself so your dripping cunt hovered just inches above his flushed face, while his neglected cock throbbed right in front of you.

“Be a good boy and make me feel good,” you purred, lowering yourself onto his mouth while your hand wrapped around his length, teasing him mercilessly.

And from the way he whimpered, his tongue eagerly lapping at you, you knew he was more than willing to obey.

You could feel his body trembling beneath you, his breaths uneven as he tentatively dragged his tongue along your slit—nervous, almost hesitant, like he was testing the waters.

“Mm… good boy,” you murmured, your fingers threading gently through his hair as you guided him closer. The praise seemed to unlock something in him because, within moments, that shy, uncertain lick turned into something far more eager.

Kenma’s lips latched onto your clit, sucking softly before his tongue worked in slow, deliberate strokes that had your thighs trembling. He was a fast learner—eager to please—and the way he moaned against you, sending vibrations through your core, had heat pooling low in your belly.

“Just like that…” you purred, your head tilting back as waves of pleasure started building.

But you didn’t leave him neglected for long.

You leaned down, your mouth hovering over his throbbing cock, and gave his tip a slow, teasing lick, tasting the salty beads of precum that had already gathered.

“Mmm, you’re making such a mess,” you murmured against his length before dragging your tongue along the underside, replacing his slickness with your spit as your hand wrapped around his base, pumping him with a steady rhythm.

Kenma whined against you, his hips twitching as he tried to stay still, but the way your tongue and hand worked him had him melting beneath you. His moans, muffled by your pussy, grew louder, more desperate, sending vibrations straight to your core.

It wasn’t long before the tension in both of you coiled impossibly tight—his hips jerking up into your hand while his tongue moved with frantic devotion.

“Fuck… I’m close…” you gasped, your body trembling as the pleasure built to a breaking point.

Kenma moaned in response, and the sound of him falling apart beneath you was enough to push you over the edge. Your climax crashed over you, thighs quivering around his head as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

Kenma wasn’t far behind—his body tensing beneath you as his cock pulsed in your hand, spilling hot and thick against your tongue as he whimpered into you.

For a moment, the only sound was the heavy, satisfied breathing between you, his body going limp as he tried to catch his breath, soft whimpers escaping his lips as you stroked his hair lovingly.

“Such a good boy…” you murmured, a satisfied smile tugging at your lips as you gently ran your fingers through his damp hair.

“More…” he whispered, voice barely above a breath, but you heard it loud and clear.

“Mm,” you hummed, a wicked smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t think you can handle more, baby.”

But the way his eyes fluttered open, still hazy with lust, told you that he was more than willing to prove you wrong.

And you were more than ready to make him beg for it.

I Love Rock N' Roll by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts

Been rolling with this since I'm 12, wonder why I turned out like that...

Clichés and Canapés (Teaser)

Genre: best friends to lovers; fake dating; billionaire au

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader (f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); smut

Summary: After twenty years of friendship, you’d think you were used to Seokjin’s proposals by now. In the past he’s forced you to participate in skydiving, skinny dipping, and even staging a rescue from the local shelter. Seokjin has always had big ideas but this time, even he may have gone too far. Granted, break-ups are stressful, and Seokjin’s latest one up was bad. Really bad. As in, they-ended-things-in-December-and-now-she’s-dating-his-brother bad.

It almost makes sense then, when Seokjin asks you to come home with him for his parents' party. Almost makes sense when he says his family assumed you were dating, and he didn't correct them. What doesn’t make sense is the longer you fake things, the more you find yourself wondering if this was real all along.

[ Part of the In Bloom Collaboration ]

Estimated WC: 37K

Teaser WC: 2K

Content Creator: thank you @kithtaehyung for the BEST BANNER!

[ Author's Note: this scene is not the first scene in the story; for sake of brevity, I thought this would be best for a teaser. I hope you enjoy, and am so excited to post again! ]

Your heart pounds in the silence, unnaturally loud. Placing your phone on the table, you stare at the wallpaper – a photo of the city skyline you took last fall. Before that it was a photo of you and Seokjin. Your screensaver has always been you and Seokjin, something you never questioned until last year. Last summer, to be precise.

“Get ahold of yourself,” you mutter.

Taking a deep breath, your fingers hover over his name. You press call before you can second-guess yourself, Seokjin’s name filling the screen. He answers almost immediately.

“Hello?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Seokjin sounds out of breath, deeper than you remember. How unfair would it be for him to experience a second puberty burst. The first was torture enough for you as a teenager. Overnight, Seokjin transformed from your nerdy best friend to a soft-spoken, hilarious man the entire school wanted.

“… Y/N?”

Opening your eyes, you scoop up your phone and take it off speaker. “Oh, hey – yeah, it’s me.”

He chuckles. “I figured when I saw your name calling.”

“You never know.” Aimless, you pick at the lint of your apron. “Maybe I was in a tragic accident, and someone found my phone at the scene of the crime.”

“Does that mean I’m your emergency contact, Y/N? I’m touched.”

Your cheeks heat since yes, you’re not sure you ever changed that. What you say though, is, “Don’t get cocky. I have all my phone contacts listed as emergency contacts. I like to hedge my bets.”

He laughs, louder this time. “Hey, no judgement here. Pretty sure you’re still mine.”

Your fingers still on your apron. You shouldn’t be his contact – not after everything. Harshly, you stamp out the hope rising within you. Seokjin’s lack of foresight and planning shouldn’t be taken as anything but.

“Right.” You pause. “Sorry – is this a bad time? I should have texted back, but I’m at work, and thought it’d be easier to call…”

“You’re at work? Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

“I’m on a break, don’t worry about it.”

A long pause. At last, Seokjin sighs and the knot in your chest tightens. You can count on one hand the number of times you’ve seen him upset. Once when your parents were getting divorced and you ignored his texts for a week. Another, when he and his high school girlfriend broke up their first semester of college. Another when his mom was diagnosed with breast cancer (currently in remission). And then once more, when your ex cheated on you with your supposed best friend. Seokjin drove across state lines all night to be on your campus by morning.

This might be the fifth time.

“Yeah.” Seokjin exhales. “You thought this conversation would be better in person, and as always, you were right, Y/N.”

The way he says your name sparks wistful familiarity. It also reminds you of a darkened hallway, whiskey on Seokjin’s breath and – you stop the memory from continuing.

“What happened?” you press. “I just… damn, Seokjin. The last time I saw you and Emilia, the two of you seemed so, um… so…”

“Coupled?”

“I was going to say nauseating, but yeah.”

Seokjin barks out a laugh. “Way to kick a guy when he’s down, Y/N.”

“Sorry,” you say, but your lips twitch. “Although… I don’t mean to be rude, but… you don’t sound down? You sound… surprisingly chipper for a man who was cuckolded.”

The truth of this statement resonates within you. Seokjin sounded tired when he answered, but everything since then has felt almost normal. Almost – because the elephant in the room has not gotten smaller.

The last time you spoke face-to-face was December.

“Whoa, whoa – hang on,” he sputters. “Who said anything about cuckolding?”

“Were you not? Le cuckold, as the French say?”

“Wait.” Seokjin sounds amused. “To be clear, which party is the cuckold? The guy who cheats or the guy who gets cheated on? Also – why is there no name for the woman in this scenario?”

“Oh, there are plenty of names for the woman. They’re just not as fun, and heavily drenched in misogyny.”

“Right, right. The patriarchy, etc. – but seriously, Emilia didn’t cheat on me. Or she says she didn’t, and I’m inclined to agree.” He pauses. “I think.”

“You think?”

“I do believe her. But… well, even if she didn’t technically cheat… even if we broke up in December, then they waited a respectable period of time and then they started dating – it still feels weird. Like, was she into him the entire time we dated? Was my brother into her?”

“No good answers come from that line of questioning,” you say grimly.

“I know.” Seokjin groans, and you imagine him dragging a hand down his face. “You’re right, but I can’t stop picturing it. And they didn’t.”

“They didn’t what?”

“Wait a respectable amount of time,” he mutters. “Emilia and I broke up in December, and they told me at the end of March they were dating. Meaning they started dating before and only deemed it serious enough to tell me in March.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Hence the thinking.”

“About the timeframe, or the general weirdness?” you prompt.

In the back of your mind, you can't help wondering what made Seokjin reach out. According to what he just said, Seokjin has known about Jaesuk and Emilia since March. Granted, everything about this is strange and it's valid to vent, but you haven't spoken to Seokjin in months. And even before the break-up, it's been months since you spoke about anything real.

“Both,” Seokjin says in answer to your question.

“Not… anything else?”

“What else would I be thinking about, Y/N?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you huff, twisting the thread of your apron. “Are you still in love with Emilia? It’s hard to be around an ex normally, but this…” Trailing off, you shake your head.

“What? No. I mean, yeah – it’s not fun to be around them. But no,” Seokjin says, decisive. “I’m not in love with her.”

Your lips tighten, unsure what to believe. Still, you decide not to push him. Years of experience have taught you if Seokjin isn’t ready to talk about something, you won’t get a peep out of him. If it were you, though, five months isn’t enough to fall out of love.

“Okay,” is all you say. Glancing at the staff door, you watch Jimin hand the customer their drink. Your break will be over soon, one way or another.

“I’m… actually glad you called me, Y/N.”

The hesitancy in his voice draws you back. “You are?”

“Yeah.” Seokjin clears his throat, a nervous tic. “Jaesuk called me yesterday. You know how my parents’ anniversary is in May?”

“Of course.”

Obviously, you know. Seokjin’s parents are strange for many reasons, not least of which is their genuine love for one another. They are also – you can say this after many years working in consulting – the most normal rich people you’ve ever encountered. Most of their wealth is donated each year, with a small stipend (still an insane amount) granted to each family member.

The weekend of their anniversary is the exception to this rule. Seokjin’s parents go all out, spending an entire week at their lake house, hosting lavish parties cumulating in the main event on the weekend. Growing up, you attended as Seokjin’s plus one. This all changed when Seokjin got his first girlfriend, although you still attended for a few years as the date of his sister, Seohyun.

“Yeah.” Seokjin again clears his throat. “So, uh, my brother called and… at first, he and Emilia weren’t going to come. They decided to skip this year because of the obvious.”

“The cuckoldom, yes.”

“I said the obvious,” Seokjin says drily. “But anyways. Well.” He exhales, and you remember again that between the two of you, Seokjin is more mild-mannered. “Jaesuk called and wanted to know if it would be okay with me if they came together. Emilia’s parents were invited, and they thought it might be weird for them to attend without her…”

Your jaw has dropped again. “How would that be weirder than Emilia attending with your brother?”

“I don’t know,” he groans, and from the way his voice muffles, you imagine him laying his head on his desk. Seokjin usually grades papers in the afternoon.

His apartment is gigantic, a three-story brownstone located in Hyde Park with a view of Lake Michigan. His study (yes, he has a study) always reminded you of the library in Beauty and the Beast. Perhaps a bit smaller, with less fiction on the walls.

Dimly, it registers that Seokjin’s parents invited the Astors. Granted, Emilia’s parents run in the same circle, but the invitation feels odd. Odd – and cruel, to invite Seokjin’s ex-slash-Jaesuk’s-current girlfriend.

What a mess.

Numbly, you shake your head. “They want you to spend an entire week together? Alone? In the middle of the wilderness?”

“Michigan isn’t exactly Siberia, Y/N.”

“But… you, your brother, and the woman you’ve both slept with – in one house?”

“I probably wouldn’t put it like that, but sure.”

“You… said no, right?”

A long, awkward pause follows.

Your voice rises. “Right?” you demand, gripping the phone tighter.

“No.” Seokjin’s voice muffles again. “I told them I wasn’t sure, but I’d let them know.”

“Seokjin! You absolutely cannot spend an entire week with them alone.”

“Aha!”

“What?” you ask, blinking at his note of triumph.

“You’re absolutely right. I can’t spend the week with them… alone.”

Your brows furrow. “So… you agree with me?”

“No, Y/N,” Seokjin repeats. “I can’t spend the week with them alone. But… with someone else…”

A beat passes.

“Are you dating someone new?” you ask, bewildered. “Is that it? You’re going to bring some poor, unsuspecting person to your Shakespearean family drama?”

“Not a poor, unsuspecting person, no…”

Suspicion slowly dawns. “Seokjin…”

“Yes?”

“You can’t be serious.”

His throat clears. “I was thinking… maybe... you could join.”

The silence stretches for so long, Seokjin seems to grow concerned. “Y/N?” His voice dims, like he's checking the call hadn’t dropped. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” you croak. “Physically, here. Mentally, I think something has cracked, because I just heard you ask me something insane.”

“See!” Seokjin exclaims. “This is why I need you there. You’re so good at making things less awkward. And my family loves you – their attention would all be on you, and not on how weird and insane my life is.”

Groaning out loud, you sink further into the chair. This is a bad idea. Truly abysmal, but…

You already know you’ll say yes. Saying no to Seokjin has never really been an option.

Back in college, you joined his family trips all the time. In those days, your dad wasn’t taking care of himself, your mom had run off with her new boyfriend, and you had nowhere to go during summer holidays. Frequently, the Kim’s referred to you as their second daughter – but that was ages ago.

Seokjin didn’t even call you when he and Emilia broke up.

“Seokjin,” you sigh. “Why are you asking me this?”

A long pause. “I just told you why.”

“No. I mean… I didn’t even know you were single.” You hesitate, then barrel on. “This is the first time we’ve talked on the phone since – god, I don’t even know. Last year?”

Seokjin’s ensuing silence is damning. An unspoken question hovers between you: Has anything changed since the last time we saw each other?

"I’m… sorry, Y/N." He hesitates. "I know… I should have reached out to you sooner. I just… just couldn’t.”

Your lips purse, staring at the door. Your break must be done, but luckily, Jimin has given you space to process. As much as he pretends to be needy, his ability to read the room is remarkable.

“Ugh,” you groan, head tipping back. Your eyes close. “Let me think about it.”

“Wait – really?” Seokjin blurts. “Thank you, Y/N! You won’t regret this – I swear.”

“I haven’t agreed to it yet!”

“Right, sure. Of course,” he hastens, attempting to sound mollified.

Your lips twitch. “I have to get back to my shift.”

“Yes. Make that money.”

“Eh.”

“Make… that minimum wage plus tips?”

“Closer,” you sigh, pushing yourself to stand. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Okay. And Y/N?”

You hover near the door. “Yeah?”

Seokjin pauses. “There are a lot of logical reasons why it’d be great if you came, but honestly?” His voice thickens slightly. “I just… want you there.”

There’s an ache in your chest you wish could say was a stranger. In truth though, the feeling is exactly why you should say no.

You never had a great sense of self-preservation, though. Instead, find yourself saying–

“Yes.”

[ TO BE CONTINUED ] © kpopfanfictrash, 2025. Do not copy or repost without permission.