#jung hoseok bts imagine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

girlatmirror · 5 months ago

Text

does he know? jjk

‘she told you she’s celibate, she told me i could nail her shit’. in which your ex comes back to town, but you are in a new relationship.

ex bf! jungkook x reader

warnings: (kinda??) cheating, there’s some angsty themes (but not rlly idk), mentions of alcohol consumption, yn is a little mean sometimes (but she’s so real), yn is the president of #ihatemybf nation, unprotected, penetrative sex (be safe), ass eating (yup, jk is a munch thru n thru), idk what else

___

Jungkook and your brother, Zane, were always attached at the hip as you grew up in the same neighborhood. Your house was across from the Jeons' house, and ever since you could remember, you had a crush on Jungkook. Jungkook, the boy who stole your heart the moment he came over to play soccer with your brother and accidentally kicked the ball against your head at the tender age of 10, then apologized with a warm hug. You were eight when that happened, but you knew everything. You knew you wanted to marry that boy, and you knew what you felt was real. What you did not know was that the same boy would steal your heart years later and take it with him to Singapore, leaving you stranded.

Your love story started when you began attending college, the same one that Jungkook attended; surprisingly, it wasn’t the same as Zane’s. To Jungkook, that meant he could make a move on you without the awkwardness of your brother and your parents around. After years of waiting for the right time, Jungkook took the chance when Zane told him you were unsure about where to apply to major in psychology. Of course, he recommended that you apply to his school, which, thankfully, had an amazing psychology program. You took his advice and started attending the same university.

Jungkook became your bodyguard, even though he was a computer science major in his junior year, guiding you everywhere and protecting you from any harm, basically never leaving your side. At first, he claimed it was an oath to protect his buddy’s little sister, but at one point, he finally gathered the courage to profess his love for you and asked you out; of course, you agreed, and that’s where your love story began. That’s where a year filled with love, princess treatment, and pampering started. Your relationship remained strong even after he graduated; you continued going on dates, making time for each other daily, and being completely and utterly in love.

Until he received an offer to become a CFO of a large Microsoft company in Singapore, he accepted the offer despite your objections.

___

(a year and a half ago)

“Jungkook, baby, I’m here!” you shouted as you entered his upscale apartment with your spare key, which he had given you the moment he bought the apartment. “Sorry, I’m a little early; I was bored and by myself.”

Jungkook was taking a shower, smiling as his heart warmed at the sound of your voice. “That’s okay, baby. Come join me.”

“No, I already showered before I came here, but you enjoy!” you exclaimed with a giggle, looking for something to occupy yourself until he got out of the shower.

His bedroom was spacious and very neat; Jungkook was a clean person, a quality you cherished about him a lot.

You were bored, trying to find something to entertain yourself with until he got out of the shower when you found something that made your heart race.

On the nightstand, under a book he was currently reading, were two plane tickets. You quickly grabbed one and thoroughly read what was written on it.

* Name: Jungkook Jeon

* Date of Flight: January 15, 2021

* Flight Number: SQ 25

* Airline: Singapore Airlines

* Departure:

* Airport: John F. Kennedy International Airport (JFK), New York, USA

* Time: 10:00 AM (EST)

* Arrival:

* Airport: Singapore Changi Airport (SIN), Singapore

* Time: January 16, 2021, 5:00 PM (SGT)

Class: Business

January 15 was just three weeks away. Jungkook hadn’t said a word about his trip to you. He mentioned the business opportunity he received in Singapore once, but you quickly shut down any further talk about it, completely against the idea of him leaving. He hadn’t talked about it since.

Your heart stopped for a millisecond, shock taking over your body. With shaky hands, you quickly grabbed the other ticket; it was the same flight but for a different passenger.

Your name was written on it.

Just as you tried to compose yourself, you heard a click from the bathroom door; Jungkook had finished his shower. You quickly put the tickets back where you found them. He entered the bedroom with a big smile, a towel hugging his lower body, strong arms and defined abs on display.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he leaned over your frozen body and planted a kiss on your lips before noticing the tenseness in your posture. “Hey…what’s wrong, my angel?”

“What’s wrong?” You let out a humorless laugh. “What’s wrong??”

Jungkook stood in front of you, confused and nervous, still half-naked in just a towel.

You grabbed the tickets and faced him. The color drained from his face.

“Baby, I was gonna tell you about it,” he tried to explain, but your harsh expression didn’t soften.

“When? The day you’re supposed to leave?” you said sarcastically. “Oh wait, I’m sorry, the day we are supposed to leave?”

“Yn…” the voice you usually loved suddenly angered you.

“No! Just no! How could you do that?! I told you, I don’t want this!!” Angry tears started forming in your eyes. “You can’t just make a huge decision like this without telling me!”

“I know it wasn’t a good move, baby, but this is a huge opportunity for me; you have to understand,” he tried to touch your waist, but you pushed his hands away.

“You’re joking, right?” you exclaimed, your hand in your hair as you chaotically walked around with the plane tickets in your hand before stopping. “It’s not like I don’t understand; I do! But I don’t understand how you can just decide something so big for both of us and assume I’m going to go along with it!!”

The tension between you and him could be cut with a knife, your words throwing flames of anger at him.

“Yn, if you would just listen to me for a second,” Jungkook’s voice was steady, but there was a hint of desperation. “I want you to come with me; you can continue your studies there, and we’ll get married. We can come back for every holiday and every vacation I get; it’s gonna be good. We’ll be fine.”

“And you haven’t once stopped to think about what I want? If I want to leave everything behind and move with you to Singapore, only to come back on HOLIDAYS?? Jungkook, my family is here; damn it, your whole family is here. Did you not think this through?” you yelled at him, pushing your fingers against his chest. “And what’s wrong with your current job? It pays well; it’s here! There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“I just graduated from college last year! Do you know how often I could get an opportunity like this? Probably never, and let’s be honest, nobody’s getting any younger, so I’m going to take this job!” he exclaimed, but then his voice softened again. “I can provide for us with this position, Yn; I’m going to be a millionaire my first year. This is what I dreamed of ever since I started college: to get a good job and be set for life, not just for myself, but for my future wife as well, for you.”

“Well, I guess your future wife’s a very lucky woman then, but I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you took a deep breath, tears still brimming in your eyes. “It’s not going to be me.”

Jungkook got on his knees, his head touching your leg as he begged. “Don’t say that, Yn, please don’t.”

“I’m sorry; I just cannot do this. Not right now.” You left the bedroom hastily, Jungkook immediately following you, grabbing your arm. “Let me go, please.”

“No! I’m not going to let you go!” he snapped. “You can’t just give up on us this easily, Yn. We have one fight, and you’re ready to leave? What the fuck!?”

“I’m sorry; I don’t even think this is a fight! This is you disrespecting me, my freedom, my opinion, and stepping all over my life like it’s yours to control!” you argued, cheeks flushed from overwhelming anger. “I am not your property! You can’t just control things in my life like you’re in charge of it, okay?! I won’t go to Singapore with you. Goodbye.”

As you moved to the door, he stepped in front of you, his body towering over yours. “You didn’t even think about it, Yn. Singapore is a great place; if you transfer to a school there, you’ll still get a very good education. The quality of life is amazing; the house I bought for us is huge. You’ll have enough space for yourself, and there’s even a library, baby; you’ve always wanted a library in your house. I found you a school with an amazing psychology program near our house and my work; you don’t need to think about money at all; I’ll pay for everything. I’ll get you whatever you want, baby; just come with me.”

“Our house??” You asked in disbelief. “Did you just completely lose it? You didn’t ask me if I want to come with you, and you already bought me a ticket and a house?”

It was evident that Jungkook’s patience was wearing thin as he jabbed his cheek with his tongue. “I’m sorry that I want to move forward with our relationship, Yn. I thought we talked about this: we want to get married, get a house together… have kids. What’s suddenly so wrong with that?”

“You’re right; we did talk about these things, but for later and for here! After I graduate, not when you suddenly decide you’re ready, Jungkook,” you explained, your voice a little less harsh than before. “A relationship means working together as a team. It doesn’t mean you get to make life-altering decisions behind my back.”

“So, what does this mean now?” he inquired, his heart pumping with fear.

“I don’t know; I don’t know,” you fidgeted with your hair intensely, eyes shut, clearly unsure of how to proceed. “I just really don’t want to see you right now.”

And that was the last time you saw Jungkook. You didn’t attend the farewell party your brother threw for him, nor did you say goodbye on the day he left. You successfully fought all the urges to reply to his messages or call him back, which led to an empty feeling in your heart.

You were not ready to forgive him.

At one point, you unfollowed him on all social media, muted his number, and refused to look at the pictures and messages he sent you from Singapore; you simply couldn’t.

Deciding to focus solely on college, a little over a year after Jungkook left, you graduated with honors. During the time you learned to navigate life without the love of it, you also learned to be happy within it. You cut off any thread that led you back to the feelings you had for Jungkook.

Eventually, you started living without the aching emptiness in your heart again, yet there was always something missing. You always feared you knew what – or who – it was.

___

You didn’t really know how to describe your current state.

Now 23, you had graduated college, had a steady job, and were in a relationship that was going well. From the outside, it seemed your life was perfect; there was nothing more you could possibly wish for.

You were content with where you were, but there was always something missing. Something indescribable that you subconsciously searched for.

Work was your way of distracting yourself from feeling like that, avoiding confronting your feelings at all costs, which was ironic, considering you studied psychology.

You were working on a report on your day off when Eric, your boyfriend of eight months, called your phone. You couldn’t help but sigh, yet you picked up reluctantly. “Hey.”

“Hi, baby! How is my superstar doing today?” Eric’s cheery voice spoke. “I miss you, and I thought since it’s your day off, we could go get bagels and coffee. I’ll pick you right up!”

Bagels and coffee... you were sick of getting bagels and coffee with Eric. You couldn’t remember the last time he planned something new or exciting for you.

“I’m sorry, Eric, I can’t,” you said in a distant voice. “I’m working on a report, and I have to finish this one... but we could do this another time, right? I mean, there’s always bagels and coffee.”

Eric felt uneasy with the idea that you felt so comfortable not seeing him for weeks and not even checking up on him; he was always the one to call you. If it were up to you, he wouldn’t know where you were half the time.

“Everything okay, babe?” Eric asked. “You want me to come over, cook you something? Give you a massage? Help you with your research?”

‘No, god, no,’ a voice in your subconscious mind said.

“No, it’s fine,” you reassured him, still focusing on the MacBook in front of you instead of your boyfriend. “We’ll just see each other sometime this week, alright? I’ll let you know when I’m free.”

This conversation summed up your relationship with Eric.

He was a sweet, respectful guy who worshipped the ground you walked on, seemingly always a step ahead of you in the relationship. He was already talking about your future together while you were unsure of spending a full weekend with him alone.

It freaked you out. You had only been in one relationship before, but with Jungkook, everything seemed to fall into place: both completely and utterly in love with each other, (almost) always on the same page, never wanting to leave each other’s sides, no subconscious voices in your mind or feelings in your gut telling you something was wrong; just pure excitement and joy.

You told yourself it was you growing up, becoming a ‘real adult,’ but the more you told yourself that, the more you recognized it was a lie.

At least your relationship with Eric gave you one thing you were looking for: peace.

___

Jungkook was back in town after exactly one year and seven months.

It was a small town; people talked and gossiped about everything and everyone, but that’s not how you should have found out about it, given that your brother was the one who picked him up from the airport.

It irritated you that your brother thought you were too fragile to let you know that his best friend, your ex, was coming back to town.

He didn’t know exactly what happened between you and Jungkook; neither of you went into the details of your breakup. He only knew how much love there was between you and that you weren’t willing to talk about Jungkook or hear his name during the initial months after the breakup.

He assumed it was a bad one.

You decided to call him just to see if he would mention anything about Jungkook being back.

“Hey, sis, how’s it going?” your brother answered after a few rings.

“Hi, Zane,” you bit back any snappiness. “I’m doing well. Where are you?”

He hesitated for a few moments, then you heard his footsteps, obviously walking away from whatever scene he was in before. “Just out with some friends…”

You loved how much of a bad liar your brother was.

“Who?” your curiosity was palpable.

“Damn, why do you care so much?”

“I don’t know, Zane; maybe because I heard from some girls at the nail salon that you picked Jungkook up from the airport two days ago,” you said, dumbfounded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He sighed into the phone, tsk’ing lightly. “I’m sorry, Yn; I just didn’t know how you were gonna react, you know?”

“Oh my god, I am not a baby! I can handle it,” you declared. “So what if Jungkook is back? What am I gonna do now? It literally changes nothing about my life. You could throw him a party and invite Bella Hadid for all I care.”

Truthfully, Jungkook being back in your orbit did mean something to you. Your first love was back where he belonged after long months without this place seeing him; it almost made you emotional to imagine him back in his childhood home, back in his first apartment after graduation, and back with your brother playing basketball in the yard and…

“Actually, I am,” your brother hesitantly revealed.

“You’re throwing him a party and inviting Bella Hadid??” You only realized how ridiculous that sentence sounded after it came out of your mouth.

“No, just throwing him a welcome back party,” he chuckled a little. “You can come if you want! But only if you want; like, don’t feel pressured to be there. If you don’t come, I’ll totally understand–”

“I’ll be there!” you interrupted your brother’s rambling, who was nervous because he knew what you turned into when you were mad. “And Eric will also be there.”

“Eric?” Confused, he asked, as if he didn’t remember where he heard that name before. “Oh, yeah, your new boyfriend. Yeah, sure, take him with you.”

Even though Zane truly felt it wasn’t a good idea for your current boyfriend and Jungkook to be in the same room, he was inclined to agree with you.

You were going to attend Jungkook’s welcome back party with Eric, and you were going to look absolutely beautiful.

---

After visiting every boutique in New York with your girlfriends to find the perfect dress for your brother’s party, you finally found it and called Eric last minute to inform him that he would be your plus one for this party.

The dress you picked out was a gorgeous red number with a flattering off-the-shoulder cut and delicate lace accents, striking the perfect balance between sexy and classy, accentuating your curvy silhouette; you aimed to impress.

Eric wasn’t aware that Jungkook was your ex; he only knew that the party was for your brother’s best friend who had returned from overseas. He didn’t care whose party it was; he just thanked God that you finally called him and let him see you.

Your girlfriends knew you were indulging in self-destructive behavior by going to a party solely for your ex-boyfriend after not seeing him for almost two years, but they also knew nothing they would say could stop you, and they seemed to think you deserved closure. All of them suspected that you were still hung up on Jungkook, but none dared to speak of it until you decided to, which you hadn’t.

As you arrived at the bar your brother rented, hand in hand with Eric, his friend Marcus was the first to greet you with a big grin, evidently already too drunk for his own good.

“Hey, Marcus, you know where Zane is?” you asked, only to receive a drunkenly slurred ‘nah, but probably in the back somewhere’ as an answer.

While you walked into the place, you couldn’t help but silently praise your brother’s dedication; the venue looked good, nicely decorated with a huge sign that said ‘Welcome Back, Jungkook’ on it.

The crowd was enormous, making you almost trip in your high heels, but thankfully, you caught yourself on Eric’s arm.

“This will be the first time I meet your brother. I can’t wait!” Somehow through the loud noise, Eric still managed to be audible. “It’s about time, you know? I mean, you’ve met my entire family; I was wondering when I’d get to meet yours.”

“Yeah,” you sent a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes his way and walked forward, until you finally saw a glimpse of Zane, seemingly engaged in an animated conversation. “He’s there!”

With gathered confidence, you gripped Eric’s hand and walked over to Zane; even though your eyes didn’t see him yet, you knew that if Zane was there, Jungkook couldn’t be far.

“Zane!” you called out to grab his attention, but the music was too loud and he was too engaged in the conversation to hear you, so you approached him closer, gripping Eric’s hand like your life depended on it.

When Zane finally saw you, he waved at you, excitedly signaling you to come closer, so you did. But there was no sign of Jungkook yet.

“Yn!!” he shouted, having indulged in some drinks himself. “Hey! Come here; let me get you a drink.”

He didn’t even spare Eric a glance before turning around, but thankfully, you gave him a subtle nod in Eric’s direction, which he immediately picked up. “Hey, man, I’m Zane, Yn’s brother. You must be Eric. How’re you doing?”

Zane gave him a friendly smile and offered him a hand, which Eric immediately shook. He was giddy to say the least, just as he opened his mouth, a deep voice from behind you interrupted him before he could speak. “Ey, Zane, there’s no fucking pizza left! It’s my damn party, and I didn’t even get a piece of pizza!”

Jungkook’s playful voice halted you for an instant. Your back was still turned to him, but as he approached the three of you, he slowly recognized who stood in front of him.

Now, he stood next to your brother, paralyzed for a second before he let his eyes wander down your face, then your entire body; a shimmer of desire and longing that could not be overlooked formed. He studied your familiar body, every curve that was once only his to touch, to explore, and the eyes that looked back at him with an innocence he could not resist.

His attention flickered to Eric for a second before fully turning to you again, with darkened eyes and flared nostrils; you were sure from his expression that Zane told him you were in a relationship now.

Your eyes wandered just the same, spotting new tattoos and much bigger biceps; he looked disgustingly handsome. He was bigger, and his presence seemed even more powerful than before he left. His hair had grown a few inches, but what always stayed the same were his eyes that never stopped looking at you the same way.

There was an awkward silence that even Eric detected before Jungkook spoke up. “Yn… it’s good to see you. You look beautiful, of course.”

There was something deep about the way he said those simple words; it was evident there was a lot more behind them.

And there was so much you wanted to say too, but all you could muster was, “It’s nice to see you too.”

You felt Eric’s and Zane’s gazes swinging from you to Jungkook while you two were lost in each other’s eyes; Eric was confused, trying to figure out what was going on, while Zane was amused yet cautious of what would happen if he left you two to it, with your boyfriend by your side.

“So, I think we should all get something to drink,” Zane was the one to break the silence before patting Jungkook on the shoulder. “C’mon, man; I’ll get you that pizza.”

They moved along, leaving you and Eric alone for a moment.

“So, do you know that Jungkook guy?” Eric carefully asked, not wanting to push you.

“He’s my brother’s best friend; of course I know him,” you answered a little snappily. “And he used to be our neighbor.”

Eric simply nodded, his grip on your shoulder tightening a bit before you slipped out of it, saying, “I’m gonna get a drink too.”

But you actually left to catch a breath of fresh air on the balcony. You felt someone following you, but convinced yourself it was paranoia until you felt the warmth of a larger body lurking behind you. You turned around and saw Jungkook looking at you with an indescribable expression.

“Please tell me that’s your new gay best friend,” he started, now standing next to you, hands on the balcony railing.

“What?” You turned your face to look at him, a sigh escaping your lips.

You were pretending that his presence didn’t affect you, pretending that you were even slightly annoyed he followed you, but you knew you wanted him to and you were glad he did.

“The guy you came with,” he clarified, a waiting gleam in his eyes.

You knew he knew that Eric was your boyfriend; he was just acting oblivious to get you to feel bad and to start a conversation about how Eric wasn’t ‘the right one for you.’ He might have been gone for over a year, but you knew Jungkook. He was predictable to you.

“No... he’s my boyfriend,” you clarified with a huff. “And what’s it to you anyway?”

He put his hand up in defense, a small smirk forming on his pretty face. “Nothing, nothing... just didn’t think he was your type is all.”

Despite not having figured out your feelings for Eric, Jungkook’s words pushed you to defend him.

“What do you mean ‘not my type��? Eric is a sweet guy, the sweetest actually, and any girl would be lucky to be with him,” you asserted, your heart racing. “He is gentle and a good communicator, and he loves me. And he would never do anything behind my back.”

Jungkook’s nostrils slightly flared as you talked about another man; he had always been the possessive one. He noticed how your stance wasn’t firm and the knitted expression on your eyebrows; a sign of uncertainty on your face he knew too well. “He loves you, huh? No doubt about it... do you love him though?”

Your breath hitched, and you felt faint for a second, not knowing how to compose yourself; you didn’t love him, no matter how much you tried. You always found yourself longing for something else... someone else. You didn’t know what to say, so you replied, “He treats me right.”

“I’d hope so...” he started, with an indescribable expression. “At least one person in that ‘relationship’ has to treat you right.”

You knew exactly what he was trying to do: making you overthink your relationship to come to the conclusion you two belonged together. But your half-healed heart refused to bring you to that place.

“What are you trying to accomplish, Jungkook?” you asked, saying his name as if it were venomous. “You left for Singapore almost two years ago; what was I supposed to do? Wait around for you until you remembered you had people who wanted to see you here? People who missed you?”

Now, he wore a spiteful expression, jabbing his cheek with his tongue. “No, you should have picked up my calls, answered my messages, let me know how you were doing. You should have at least let Zane let me know. You blocked me out of your life entirely; we are – we were in love, Yn. That doesn’t just go away overnight.”

You scoffed sarcastically to mask the pressure in your heart, affected by his words. “You think it was easy for me to do that? Guess what, Jungkook! It took a lot longer than ‘overnight’ for me to get over you, and if I had answered your calls and messages, maybe I still wouldn’t be over you!”

At that point, the loud party was a soft background noise for the two of you; you were too indulged in the rising tensions - your raising voices the only thing consuming you. Even during fights, there seemed to be no one else around you - for you.

“I wanted you to come with me! I got you a ticket, remember? The house is designed exactly how you envisioned your dream house,” he started, pain evident in his voice. “Yet, I have to live in it alone while everything reminds me of you.”

Your heart was breaking all over again, the sorrowful reflection in his gaze influencing you more than you wished. Yet, there was a rational part of you that recognized you had to stand your ground, defend yourself. You had good reasons to do what you did.

“Maybe you should have told me that before you bought a ticket for me without consulting me first!” you ranted, reminiscing the shock you felt at finding the tickets. “Or maybe you shouldn’t have taken the job offer and just stayed here like I wanted you to!!”

Jungkook had envisioned multiple scenarios about what would happen when you would see each other again. He thought about it all the time, while he was working, during sleepless nights without you by his side, while showering, working out, or fucking women that meant nothing to him... he knew exactly what you were going to say, if you would be willing to talk to him. And you were, and that made him feel happy despite the arguing because at least you were willing to argue with him, to talk to him.

He knew you, maybe more than anybody else did. He was convinced that the love between you two transcended any boundaries or obstacles.

“I know,” he admitted defeat, his voice velvety. “And I’m so fucking sorry, but please, baby, just give us another chance. I’m staying here for six months straight, and the offer to come with me after still stands.”

You felt conflicted; on one hand, you could not believe his audacity, and on the other, you were satisfied to know that he still wanted you, just like the last time he saw you.

“You can’t be serious!” you snapped. “I’m with Eric, and you can’t just come here and pretend like nothing ever happened.”

Jungkook felt your patience spreading thin and decided to go against his usual instincts to persuade you further. “Alright, I’m sorry. I just need to know one thing.”

“What?”

“Is he fucking you good?” he inquired, a possessive gleam in his eyes.

The question hung in the air like an unanswered prayer for a moment. You stood frozen before him as if you weren’t expecting him to ask that, as if you weren’t sure how to answer it.

And you truly didn’t.

“I don’t know,” came out in a whisper.

The truth was, you hadn’t let Eric that far yet, and you weren’t planning to do it anytime soon. He had an inability to make you wet, and whenever he went any further than touching your waist, you felt a slight sensation of disgust, like you would rather be fighting in a war than let Eric be inside you. You opted for telling him you were celibate, which wasn’t entirely a lie.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Jungkook was confused, trying to decipher what you were trying to say.

“It means,” you started, slowly regaining your snappiness, “that I don’t know! I’ve never had sex with him.”

It was now Jungkook’s turn to say ‘what?!’ and it suddenly made you very aware that there were crowds of people just inside, Eric being one of them. You were lucky there were so many people blocking the view into the balcony, because if there weren’t, Eric would have found you a long time ago.

Jungkook was evidently happy with the revelation, smiling like an idiot.

“Stop smiling like that!” you hissed, motioning with your hands. “I’m just not ready yet. I told him I’m celibate. It’s none of your business anyway; why am I telling you any of this?”

Jungkook obeyed your wishes and stopped smiling; instead, he burst out laughing, so amused. “So you’ve been dating for eight months, and you still haven’t fucked? Damn, ma... we did it after the first date... and every day after.”

Before you could answer, your brother entered the balcony. When he saw you and Jungkook face to face, deep in a conversation or rather an argument, he gazed between you with an indescribable expression.

“Yn, Eric’s been looking for you everywhere,” Zane informed you with what you called ‘warning eyes’ digging holes into your face as you went back inside, leaving the two best friends alone.

___

The two weeks following the party were filled with work, for you and Jungkook alike. You didn’t run into each other again, but you did decide to unblock him.

You thought it was petty and unnecessary to deny him access to you when you would surely see him during his six-month stay here. You also wanted to see if he would notice and maybe hit you up occasionally; which he did.

Good morning texts and daily ‘how are you’s?’ filled you with an unspoken joy that you felt shouldn’t have been there, but you defended yourself by thinking, ‘I cannot control my feelings.’

Your conversation on the balcony made you think a lot through, specifically your relationship with Eric. You decided it was time to open up to him, giving him a chance to take you out properly, which he had been trying to do for a while.

So, you were getting ready for a romantic night out with Eric, putting on a gorgeous, tiny black dress that accentuated your curves and applying makeup that made you resemble an effortless beauty.

You planned to be honest with him about where you thought the relationship was headed.

---

You met up with Eric at a nice Italian restaurant in the middle of the city.

After a little small talk and finishing your meal, you sat in an awkward silence as he admired you.

You could feel something unusual but brushed it off as your usual paranoia. Eric was always a jolly person who wasn’t afraid to show his love in sometimes very overbearing ways.

“You know, Yn,” he started and suddenly got on one knee. His loving gaze spread pity over your conscience, his position weighing heavily on your chest. “I’ve never felt this way about anybody; you are bright like the stars and beautiful like a flower. I find you in everything around me. You consume my soul, Yn. I... I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

He took out a red box and opened it, revealing a small diamond ring. Eric waited a moment for your answer, but you sat frozen; it was too much. With the people around you watching, and Eric’s slowly saddened eyes gauging your reaction, you did not know what to do.

You questioned Eric’s self-awareness more than anything; when had you ever given him the impression that you wanted to marry him? You were sure you had never even given him a reason to think you wanted to be in a relationship with him!

You knew Eric’s lack of self-awareness would present a problem sooner or later, but you just wished it wasn’t in such a public setting, in front of at least twenty people.

Your breath quickened, and your heart tightened. You couldn’t do this anymore.

So, you grabbed your purse, stood up, and left with a hurried, “I’m sorry; I can’t do this,” leaving Eric with a humiliating crowd and a broken heart.

It felt like the right thing to do.

- - -

Once you ran to your car without looking back, you drove away from the scene.

You were so lost in thought that your subconscious acted; you set off in a direction you had not intended to go. You drove in the exact direction of Jungkook's apartment, as if it hadn’t been two years since you were last there, as if you were returning from work and it was your house.

As if your heart, and not your head, had guided you. If you had been thinking clearly at that moment, you would have given yourself a slap and reminded yourself who you were.

But you didn't, because as your grandma used to say, “Love makes a person lose their mind.”

You parked your car next to his luxury car. He still lived in the same apartment where you last fought, where you had countless sleepovers, where you lost your virginity, where you shared secrets, and made love in every corner.

You cursed and loved that apartment at the same time.

With a fog-clouded mind, you entered the complex and took the elevator to the fourth floor. Finally, you knocked on his door, '4B,' a few times before a confused Jungkook opened it.

He stood there in all of his glory, wearing grey sweatpants and an oversized black shirt, looking back at you with a questioning yet yearning gaze. “Yn?”

His voice immediately sent shivers down your spine, and you wanted to live in the eyes that devoured your lightly clothed body. “Can I come in?”

Your voice was smaller and weaker than it had ever been; he could tell there was something wrong but did not ask right away. He simply stepped aside and said, “Of course. Always.”

His eyes ran over the prominent curve of your breasts and your naked legs, begging to be wrapped around his head.

Before he had the chance to ask what was wrong, you threw yourself into his arms and whispered a desperate, “Can you just hold me?” into his ears.

He simply kissed your forehead and carried you to the couch.

You wrapped your exposed thick thighs around his waist and your arms draped around his neck, his hands resting on your hips, holding you as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You hadn’t felt so safe since he left.

The realization that Jungkook was your safe space suddenly hit you, making you hide your face further in his neck.

He sat on the huge sofa, which led you to sit on his lap, your face still hidden in the hollow of his neck.

His large hand moved from your back to your hip, and you would have loved nothing more than to let yourself melt into his body. You had searched so long for that feeling – the feeling of being back in the arms of the only man you could love.

“What happened?” he asked solicitously, his voice rushing softly in your ears.

You refused to say anything for a few moments, totally unsure of how to explain your situation to him, or if you even wanted to.

Slowly coming out of your hiding place, you looked deep into his eyes; your eyes held a melancholy he noticed immediately. He stroked your goosebump-filled arms and brought his forehead close to yours. The atmosphere was just loving and peaceful.

“Eric proposed to me…” you sighed softly, fingers tangled in his soft black hair.

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?? Did you...” He coughed a bit before continuing, “Did you say yes?”

You sighed even louder. Even though you did not want to discuss it, you knew you had to eventually.

“No,” you answered, trying to maintain eye contact. “I just ran away and drove here.”

It was obvious Jungkook was trying hard to suppress a smile, so he simply wrapped his arms around you comfortingly and gently rocked you back and forth without saying a word.

You were hyper-aware of the fact that the only thing separating your wet pussy from leaving marks on his sweatpants were your thin, almost see-through panties.

You stayed in that position for a while, before leaning in and starting to place wet kisses on his neck, your fingers tightening around his hair.

His breath grew heavier as he held onto the thick flesh of your bare ass, unsure whether to let you go further or stop you.

“Yn...” his tone was uncertain yet aroused. “We really shouldn’t…”

You continued the trail of desperate kisses, unable to resist, with his familiar scent and the feel of his skin against your lips.

You already felt his dick hardening in his boxers as you gently caressed it with your hands, making him groan at the friction.

“Why not?” you asked with a pout, before palming his dick harder while grinding on his thigh. “Don’t you want to fuck me? Do I not make you hard anymore?”

You knew that neither of those things was true; you were just playing dumb to get him to give in to something you wanted, craved desperately. Your body hadn’t been properly touched in nearly two years; you were starting to get needy.

“You’re in a vulnerable state,” he stated in a raspy voice, heavily affected by your behavior. “I don’t want to do something with you that you might regret later.”

You shook your head almost vigorously, gently punching his chest; it was only gentle because your arousal was weakening your body. “No, you don’t get to leave for Singapore for two years and then come back to deny me. If I say I want you, I better get you, okay? I’ve been lonely for almost two years, Kookie; my fingers are starting to cramp from how much I touch myself thinking about it... don’t you dare deny me.”

Despite the urge to chuckle at your approach, your words made him think about you craving him just as much as he craved you; it made him feel validated and less pathetic for thinking about you after all the time and distance.

He was always convinced the love between you two transcended any boundaries or obstacles.

He captured your lips in a passionate kiss, which you reciprocated with whimpers against his familiar lips. There was no way to describe how much you missed this feeling.

Suddenly gripping your hips tighter, he stood up, carrying you to the bedroom like you weighed nothing, your pussy and his clothed dick touching delectably, evoking even more arousal from both of you.

At his bedroom, he gently placed you on the bed, looking down at you with desire-filled eyes. “You sure you want this?”

“Yes!” Your patience was wearing thin. “Just fuck me, Jungkook, and stop talking so much.”

You tugged at his shirt, and he quickly took the hint, stripping it off to reveal well-defined abs and bulging biceps, arms that looked like they could kill someone.

The last time you saw him, he was already muscular and fit, but it was evident that he took his fitness seriously while in Singapore.

You dreamily stared him up and down. “Now, the pants.”

He chuckled at your bossiness but obeyed without hesitation, leaving him in just his boxers.

You were getting impatient, already reaching for your panties to rub your pussy in anticipation, letting out small ‘hmmm’ sounds that drove Jungkook insane.

Now, he was determined to take off your dress, zipping it down hastily and almost ripping it off you if it weren’t for your hands stopping him from ruining a perfectly good dress.

“Baby, you don’t know how much I missed this,” Jungkook breathed out, eyeing you hungrily while you carefully took off your dress.

Once the dress was off, you revealed nothing more than your panties; you decided not to wear a bra because the dress was strapless and it would look silly with one.

Jungkook’s breath hitched, clearly overwhelmed by the sight of your generous breasts. “No bra?”

You shook your head and slowly approached him, roaming your hands all over him and grabbing him by the neck to pull him in for a kiss.

Your chest pressed against his, or more accurately, against his solid stomach because of your height difference; he was acutely aware of your hard nipples.

“Fuck, Yn,” he groaned, his hands roaming your body just the same. “Need to be inside you.”

“Then fuck me,” you urged, tugging at his boxers with hooded eyes and parted lips, desperation and horniness visible. “Just want you to fuck me, Kookie.”

He tilted his head back at your words, muttering a low ‘fuck,’ before positioning himself to enter your pussy. He quickly glanced into your eyes for any uncertainty, and finally, when he didn’t find anything other than an eager, awaiting expression, he entered your tight pussy with a low groan.

Your mouth widened for a second as you tried to adjust to the feel of his dick again, eliciting loud moans of pleasure and slight uneasiness.

He pressed you against the wall for more support, thrusting deeper into you. He watched his dick enter your pussy; it was almost poetic to him how perfectly made for him your pussy felt.

There were no afterthoughts about the situation being wrong, absolutely no overthinking about Eric, who was blowing up your phone while you were getting your back blown by your ex.

It felt right; you and Jungkook knew you were meant to be, and there was nothing that could happen, no one that could come between you. At the end of the day, you were always going to be back in each other’s arms.

“Shit, baby, you’re so fucking wet,” he panted, his lips pressing against your cheeks. “Still so fucking tight for me...”

You let out an aroused purr, already fucked out before even starting. Your hands were gripping his big arms, and your hips were moving towards him, seeking more friction.

“I’ve been dreaming about this moment, baby,” he admitted between low groans, moving in and out skillfully. “You know how many times I fisted my dick thinking about fucking you again?”

“Me too,” you desperately moaned back, bouncing slightly; the sound of slapping skin surrounded the air. “Fuck, Jungkook… love that dick… yes, I fucking love that dick…”

Your barely comprehensible words drove him crazy, gripping your hips and fucking you like you were a fuck toy. “Shit, baby, that pussy’s mine, yeah? Only mine. No one else gets to - fuck - no one else gets to have you like this.”

You nodded, burying your fucked-out face in his broad shoulder, vocalizing the pleasure you felt at every thrust. Your breath tickled his skin, and the warmth of his hands contrasted the coldness of the wall beautifully.

His big dick moved inside of you in a steady rhythm, each thrust making your eyes roll back further.

Your bodies pressed against each other sexually, big breasts spilling out against his strong chest, your hands moving around his back to scratch him harshly, and his grip on your ass and hips becoming almost painful; you were both begging for release.

“Harder, Kookie. Do it harder,” you begged, not caring how desperate you sounded. “That dick feels so fucking good. Oh god, Jungkook.”

He indeed started to fuck you harder, heavy breaths becoming even heavier, lips connecting again and again in sensual kisses. His moans against your lips drove you wild.

The raw intensity of the moment was driving you insane; you felt every inch of his beautiful dick, and he was feeling your pussy entirely, without the almost restrictive feeling of a condom.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” he panted with every quickened motion of his dick, his mouth forming an ‘o.’ “Baby, I’m g’na cum. Shit, I’m g’na cum so fucking hard.”

Feeling your high approach as well, you didn’t care about the consequences at all; you planned to go on birth control first thing in the morning, saying, “Cum inside, Jungkook. Please, just fill me up with that cum.”

Your bodies moved together rhythmically, his steady thrusts hitting exactly the right spots as you chased your orgasm. Your eyes locked together and your moans became intertwined.

Low ‘fuck’s and ‘oh god’s were all you heard, as both of you were too deep into the pleasure to formulate real sentences.

With one final thrust and a muttered ‘yes, just like that,’ he found his release, his thick, warm cum deliciously filling you. You closely followed, your back arching and head thrown back, the two of you coming hard.

His broad body momentarily collapsed against yours, both panting hard, still pressed against the wall. He whispered praises and sweet nothings in your ear while trying to regain composure.

“I’m so happy I came here,” you softly kissed him, and he agreed with your words, muttering a ‘me too’ against your lips.

You felt hazy and tired, but you tried to slowly get off Jungkook and get to the bathroom, which you eventually did with his help; he carried you all the way there.

After you finished cleaning yourselves up, you headed straight to the bed. You lay bare on your stomach, still somewhat overstimulated and hazy from the orgasm.

Jungkook gently stroked your backside, muttering things like, “You did so good for me, baby,” and “You don’t know how much I missed this fucking pussy,” before leaning in and biting into your shapely ass playfully, eliciting a gasp from you.

He spread kisses on your ass cheeks and slowly separated them; he stuck his head in between and gave your hole a few licks before gently sucking on the skin of your ass with his skillful tongue.

Your legs started to tremble from pleasure and mild discomfort; Jungkook had eaten you before, but you seldom did that in the bedroom.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized how terrified your brother would be if he knew what you two did.

“Jungkook!” you purred, arching your back for more pressure against his tongue. “Oh fuck… oh my god, oh god.”

Jungkook’s groans and low chuckles sent vibrations through your body, deepening the pleasure and making you seek your high more.

“Fuck, this fat ass is still as good as I remember,” he praised against the sensitive skin, still kneading and spanking it hard. “Wanna stay like this forever.”

He returned to licking and probing your asshole, clearly enjoying your squirming figure. You pushed your ass up, hoping for more friction.

You were practically already fucked out and overwhelmed that you couldn’t answer with more than a simple agreeing moan.

You started grinding your ass against his face, desperately wanting to cum again, enjoying the feel of his tongue against you.

His licks and your grinding quickened, which quickly turned into a series of ‘ah, ah, ah’s as you came undone on his tongue.

When your panting lessened, you turned around, lying on your back in bliss.

You fell asleep in each other’s arms almost immediately.

Jungkook thought this was the nicest way you could have welcomed him back.

___

i hope you enjoy this!! idk if i wanna give this a second part or just leave it like this (cause i have no idea what i would do in the 2nd part actually), but i’m thinking i’ll see if people enjoy it and then think about a part two💋 love uuu

2K notes · View notes

hoseoksluna · 8 months ago

Text

LIFE | jhs

pairing: military!hobi x f. reader (ft. namjoon)

genre: slow burn ; tension ; converse high trope / smut, tiny fluff

word count: 8.6k

summary: hoseok has always had a secret thing for you and once he learns you're single, he doesn't waste time and knocks on your door.

pinterest board: life / playlist: listen / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: mutual pining, hobi is a feet guy, mentions of a partner giving you a cold shoulder and silent treatment, strong tension, praise kink, petting, nipple play, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, slight dd/lg, raw and rough sex, size kink.

note: SHE'S BACK. HOSEOKSLUNA IS BACCKKKKKKKK. HELLO, MY BABIES. I MISSED YOU ALLLLL SOOOO MUCH AND I MISSED WRITING SO MUCH THAT THIS IS SOMETHING I WROTE IN MY YEARNING TOWARDS THE END OF MY HIATUS. fuck, this is way too hot. and i, again, had to take breaks to do something :D actually, i was inspired to write this at 4 am when i landed in my country after my vacation in dubai and got the weverse notification from hobi. :) yep. he ruined me, destroyed me, and i had to start writing. ENJOY THIS FILTHHHHHH. i missed writing abt dd/lg, too.... hehe. let me know what you think. and if you mayhappsss want part two? I LOVE YOU, MY BABIES. MWAH.

Hoseok, at your doorstep bringing in the moonlight before the midnight hour, was not something you quite expected to see when you heard the bell ring. You were lounging around on your couch, clothed in your new silky pajamas that you bought to heal your wounded heart a little, along with a peachy Korean face mask, a banana vape and a vanilla candle that you lit up as soon as you exited the shower. The creamy white sheet is what you were still wearing on the planes on your face when you stood there, taken aback because the man, clad in his military uniform, was certainly not your friend that visited you often.

Hoseok was a mutual friend. A friend of your best friend Karina… and a friend of your now ex-boyfriend Namjoon. A friend that hated your guts—a friend that could not stand you.

A friend that would let his eyes linger a little while longer on you upon seeing you on regular night outs and then ignore you for the rest of the event. A friend that would lock his gaze on your intertwined hand with Namjoon’s before narrowing it and scoffing in a private way that you invariably saw through.

You weren’t stupid. You knew what his deal was—it’s only that you couldn’t do anything about it. You were Namjoon’s for eight wonderful months that were splotchy with the depth of poetry. Words from his heart that would give your life meaning, keep your head up above the surface. You needed those words as you spent your whole girlhood drowning in the sea of FOMO, rowing your arms through the waves of life that never got you anywhere. Seeing the little beauty of day and night of Seoul with your friends paled in comparison with what Namjoon showed you. You always believed that your life would begin with a man by your side—you prayed for it, you waited for it and it became reality.

But it was not the reality that your body sought in the long run.

Yes, the sex was great. Significant to your mental development, especially to your female one as you truly did become a woman in his hands, letting the lush girlish version of you die in his palms. As well as the museums, the hikes, the dinner dates that let you in on the complexity of Namjoon’s intellect that you found so profound and full of beauty.

But as you nearly reached a year with him, your body began to seek more. The flowers beyond the box of your relationship with him—and you knew that those petals carried the scent of Hoseok.

He liked you. You saw it in the extremity of his purposeful ignorance towards you, in the forced hatefulness he put across, and in the distance he set as a boundary. You saw it, too, in the way he would entertain other women in the bars and glance at you every now and then to make sure you’re seeing what he wants you to see. And it excited you, his interest in you that he kept at bay.

It was a forbidden fruit that you smelt and smelt, but could never bite into—and it drove you insane. And when he got enlisted in the military, it drove you off a cliff.

Missing him made you search for him. Not in Namjoon, but in other men. Privately, in your soul. And it cost you your relationship.

Namjoon was a jealous, possessive man. He would fight with you if you looked at a guy for a beat longer than is necessary and if a half of a smile crept up upon the corner of your lips, he would give you the cold shoulder. An action that cut through you deep enough to make you bleed and you had to put a stop to it.

You thought talking to him about it like an adult would straighten the road you were walking upon, but like the intelligent man Namjoon is—he knew that what he was giving to you was no longer what you needed. He threw it back at you, using the poetry of his words, and all you could do was be honest with him. Nod your head, tell him he was right, that you were seeking something more. And what surprised you was that Namjoon wasn’t willing to go the extra mile.

He didn’t consider it. Didn’t mention it.

He nodded his head, too. And you parted your ways as friends who loved each other and lived an artistic life together.

And at that moment, a door to your mind opened and Hoseok stepped in. Made a bed, fluffed the pillows, and rested.

It seems now he has awoken. Rang your doorbell, bashed his fist against the wood and narrowed his eyes at you in his normal fashion.

An action that weaves a rhythm into that flat, bruised heart of yours.

His military jacket is slung over his arm. His two black dog tags, hung by a silver chain around his long neck, rattles as the breath of the fresh, autumn evening breezes past, scattering goosebumps along your chocolate-buttered skin. You notice, within the brief silence while you look at each other and exchange words long overdue, that his hair is way shorter. Not buzzed anymore like Namjoon showed you on Hoseok’s first day in the military six months ago, but tousled and sticking out in different directions as if he raked his fingers through the strands a million times over. Your own itch, wrapped around your vape, his beauty heightened by his evident newly-gained manliness washing over you like an icy stream of water.

You shiver, blaming it internally on the wind, and not on the lightness of the attraction that you feel sinking beneath your skin, overpowering you.

And that small movement of your body propels Hoseok to speak, at last.

“I come home to find you single,” he scoffs, his voice deep and raspy, marked possibly by his job in the military. And you feel it marking you just the same, opening windows in the house of your body for that wind to blow in and exhilarate you, help you breathe. “He’s drunk out of his mind, crawling on Jungkook’s lap and you’re here. In your pajamas with a fucking face mask on.”

Briefly, you furrow your brows, not understanding the meaning of his words. Is he bashing you for not crying your heart out? Or is he bashing his brother for doing whatever it was. Your heart turns halfway, painfully. Those days are gone—those you spent in bed while that broken muscle wept while your body used that time to repose from all the stress it went through, being in an environment it grew out of.

You sigh, weary of the recollection of that peculiar pain, and show no sight of the turbulence happening within you. “Jungkook must be happy about that.”

Hoseok chuckles, humorlessly. A chilling noise that erects your bare nipples beneath your pajama button down. Awkwardness slinks down your sternum and you shift your weight on your other foot as Hoseok deepens his gaze down on you.

Tension settles between you and you use it. You use it, wholeheartedly, as you should have all those months ago. The only thing you ever took advantage of were the touches Namjoon graced your skin with. You’d grab his hand, while Hoseok watched, and bring it underneath the table. Part your mouth, pretending he was touching a sensitive, private place while he was merely drifting his fingers along your thigh. Hoseok would gulp, but he would keep his gaze locked on yours, very much like he’s doing now. It’s the only form of intimate interaction you ever had, save for the heated debates about different things you two did not have in common.

All else remained hidden in the silence shared between you.

And it no longer shall.

If he came all the way here, unannounced, then you shall let fate, one that is enamored with your body, have her way in your life.

“If you came here to talk about him, then I’m not interested,” you say, letting go of the door and slipping off your face mask, ignoring the hurtful pinpricks along the perimeters of your heart. “If you came here for me, then the door is open.”

And with that bravery, you pivot on your heel and walk back into the living room, not expecting him to follow you and not expecting him to walk away. You let fate do her thing, and you begin to tap in the essence of the peachy face mask into your skin with quick, gentle slaps.

You toss the sheet, along with the packaging, into the trash, your hair clipped away from your face whooshing around you with your movement. Kicking off your slides, you hear them bump into something stable, and when you turn around to seek that strange sound, you see Hoseok standing by your armchair near your couch.

So he did come here for you. You tremble in a different manner, filled with sparks of excitement, and, turning around to sit on the couch, you flush, smiling happily to yourself.

But all those feelings turn to dust when Hobi kneels by the edge of your couch and fixes your home slippers. Aligns them rightly in front of you so you can comfortably slide your feet into them once you get up.

Your stomach drops and your fingertips tingle, all of your nerve endings set on blazing fire by that one act of service.

The first kind thing he’s ever done for you.

He throws his military jacket over the backrest of the armchair, where he nestles himself. Legs spread, elbows propped on his knees. His long dog tag chain swings back and forth in the sudden, atypical calmness of the atmosphere that you cannot adapt to fully. Not when your mind creates an image of that chain hanging over your face, your neck and your chest when you’re bare and ready for him, laying on your back, all for him to take.

You bite your lip, tracing the band of your sleep sock with your fingers, and Hoseok’s eyes fall to it. You quickly lift them, sheepish. Distract your mind by opening a package of eye patches and placing them on your dark circles that just won’t leave. His gaze skims over each motion, studying it, wordlessly, and you can’t take it anymore.

You can’t be the only one who’s brave this evening.

You take a puff of your vape, inhaling its sweetness, and stare right back at him. A smile, a foolish girlish smile quivers upon your lips. One that you dislike because you did grow out of it, but it seems as though the more you swallow the intensity of his shadowed, violent sea-charged energy, the more you transform back into that little girl you were.

And the process soaks your panties.

So much is said in the silence, always has been, but you can’t stand it anymore.

“You should start talking before I go to bed,” you bite, willing your smile to flatten, and Hoseok kneads his hands. His knuckles bear a faint memory of yellow bruises, veiny and strong as they are, and for a moment you wonder how far his ferocity reaches.

He showed you little of it. You know he’s capable of doing things that would change you for all eternity, give you a new form that would not wither with age.

And you yearn for it. Have yearned for it all those months without knowing that was the thing your body sought. The thing Namjoon could never give you.

Violence. Roughness. The licks of an outraged sea.

You’re a witness to it sloshing in the pools of his darkened eyes as he chews the provocation you uttered his way. And you can bet he likes the taste.

“Did he break your heart?” he asks amidst the banana-flavored smoke, his knuckles whitening for a split second as he clenches his fist before relaxing—as if the thought of Namjoon breaking your heart angers him.

It rouses you, and the way your chest lifts with each breath stimulates your stiffened nipples. The candlelight sways, casting shadows on his worn features, and you’d much rather sit on them than talk about your ex.

“Did you not hear what I said?” you spit, throwing your vape on the cushion of your couch. Hoseok’s façade splits as he smirks, dropping his gaze for a moment before lifting it back to you.

He leans back, slouching in the chair. “Answer the question.”

The sedatedness of his tone stuns you. Your heart begins to thump as well as the bundle of nerves between your folded legs. It has been too long since you had your release. Months upon months. And you’re too weak to not get carried away by these new feelings you’ve shamefully forgotten about.

The veins from his knuckles travel all the way back to his arms and your brain empties out. Too, too fucking long. You should’ve fooled around with every guy you found attractive, use them for orgasms, make the best of your womanly years, but instead you dwelled at home—in and out of your misery. And now, now it feels as though you’re a virgin, alone for the first time with an older man that enlivens your body.

And you might as well give him what he asks of you.

Sucking on your vape for a puff of bravery, you don’t blink as you stare at him through the smoke. You elongate your legs, placing them on the coffee table next to him, your toes facing his outstretched knee, and his eyes, once again, plummet to them.

“He didn’t break my heart, I broke his,” you say, your words shrouded by that white mist curling out of your mouth, and you watch as his eyes widen en route to yours.

He didn’t expect that.

Something about that satisfies you. Selfishly.

Hoseok runs the pad of his finger across his bottom lip, his head tilted to the side a little bit. “It was about time you did.”

The searing heat that rushes forward in your cheeks forces your gaze away from him, begs you to look away, but you don’t. A bead of perspiration trickles down your cleavage, one that is visible to him as you couldn’t be bothered to do all the buttons after your shower. But Hoseok’s eyes don’t flick to it. No, he can’t miss this. He can’t miss the gravity of the moment, of the spoken confirmation of the fact that what went on between the two of you for so long is real. You squeeze your thighs together, the thumping in between unbearable, and the longer you bask in his brave words, in the masculinity of his initiative, the more your own poetry begins to rise in you.

If it drags, it’s not meant for you. If it’s fast, it couldn’t wait to meet you.

And Hoseok notices. It is only when you let out a little, barely hearable sigh that his eyes do travel down to scrutinize your bodily reaction. To your nipples poking through, the shine of your sweat in between your bare breasts, to the friction you’re rubbing—the miniscule grinding movements that you make in order to alleviate yourself of the ache of desperation that you feel. And because you’re baring yourself out for him, he does the unthinkable.

He lets you see his true face, his façade collapsing at his big, sock-clad feet.

Hoseok lifts his hips, hides behind the pretense that he’s just making himself more comfortable, but in reality he did it to turn your attention to his lower region. His length, semi-hard yet still long, stands out, protruding from the camo of his pants and you’re hot, hot all over.

The thumping worsens—and you need him, all of him, to make it better.

Perceiving that he’s succeeded in his strategy by the way you just won’t stop ogling him, he blushes and hides it, in vain, with outstretched fingers spread across his face. As if he was doing his signature idol move. It’s a riveting sight to behold, a seemingly cold person growing warm from you gaping at that private part of him.

And you want more. You want to see more places of his body that are flushed. And you want it now.

“It was about time you and I talked alone, don’t you think?” you ask, following on from his previous statement. All that pining, those stolen glances, that distance—all that tension advances forward now, stronger than ever.

Hoseok can feel it, too. At your words, his manhood grows harder and his breathing quickens. He tries to stabilize it, but he fails. He fails even when he returns to his original position with his elbows propped on his knees. That chain of his swings with more momentum, teasing you, and you place your legs even closer towards him, and upon witnessing the light flash in his eyes, you realize that you teased him right back.

The man likes feet.

You draw in a sharp breath when he fists both of your feet in one hand, brushing his thumb over the tips of your toes. The first touch in this lifetime, the first time upon your new virgin body, so intimate, private; he might as well have wrapped a blanket around them with how warm his hand is, secure and trustful. Goosebumps flood your skin, bringing in the iciness that you felt when you took in his beauty against the background of the trees and the moonlight. And its beams must be stitched around his fingers because daintiness clasps you close, the notion that you’re taken care of, in good hands, descending upon you like the most delicate feather tickling you, and you let it—you let it consume you.

And you let his following question consume you just as much.

“Were you in love with him?”

It’s a question you never had the bravery to ask yourself in the two months you’ve been single, but it is here and you welcome it. You hear it whisper to you the hint of your answer and your body is smart enough, capable enough to figure it out.

No need for long nights of overthinking.

No need for long hours of listening to your heart crack.

“No, I was used to him—that’s different,” you hush out and the moon lowers herself, spilling through your windows, bathing you in a milky light that feels as welcoming, as right as your confession. And maybe, just maybe it’s the way the shining stream submerges in your neediness that drives you to be bratty. And briefly, before you do, you ponder over the fact how in your life shared with this person drives, moves forward. There’s never a still time—and you find that mesmerizing. Enough for you to simply brood in greed. “What’s it to you?”

Hoseok flinches. Parts his mouth. His chain rattles and his fingers squeeze the balls of your feet, coaxing a hum out of you that is immediately silenced by his sudden outburst.

“What’s it to me?”

There it is. Another plot point. Your heart hammers.

Hoseok lets go of your feet and you lament the absence. Stands up and towers over you, the moonshine soaking him in divine light that causes your breath to hitch in your throat. A faint layer of sweat has coasted along his hairline and settled there—and you long to swim in his bodily fluids. In the persona of his, in the tumultuous sea of the tension locked within him.

“You’re genuinely asking me this question?” he pressures, lifting your legs in order to step in between them, and the unthinkable visits you once again. He props his hands on either side of your head and those two dog tags swing in your face.

A wet patch forms in the center of your pajamas. Your breath mirrors his—hasty, deep and strained—and you can’t take it anymore.

How far into this road of bravery until the moon averts its opaque eyes away from your sin?

You arch your spine, hook your fingers on his dog tags and pull him a little closer. Breathe his air, breathe in his masculine, musky scent that intoxicates your senses to the point that there is absolutely nothing stopping you from getting dragged in the natural flow of this situation.

“Yes, Hoseok. What’s it to you?”

He pants. Glides, delicately, his fingers along your arm until he winds up at your small fist, clutching it in his as if it was his. And that warmth, you want to dip your head in it.

“I had to watch you sit in that chair and not crack a smile. Sit next to him like an obedient girl, not allowed to speak. To me,” he grunts, tightening his lips, and that anger of his seeps into you, becoming yours. “He didn’t deserve you. You’re not a pretty toy. You’re a person.”

He straightens but, panicking, you draw him right back by that chain. “Don’t fucking walk away from me.”

He seethes and you feel your essence trickling down your thigh. That sea, inching forward, you whimper. And then he spreads that warmth over the crown of your head, rubbing your hairline just once with his thumb before he peels off your eye patches that you have forgotten about.

And this is when your brows curl. This is the time that says there’s no going back.

“I talked to you. We fought, don’t you remember?”

He sweeps that digit over that soaked dark circle of yours underneath your eye. “What do you think would’ve happened to you if I talked to you nicely?”

Cold shoulder. Uncomfortable time of forced aloneness, filled with the abyss of guilt that you had done something wrong. A toy that didn’t move its lifeless limbs right by his will.

“I’ve known him for far longer than you. I know how he treats those he thinks he loves. I brushed it away with the others, but with you… I couldn’t. You were so full of life that was stuck in you because of him. Because he didn’t let you let it out. And I can’t forgive him for that.”

What life? The one you searched for all your girlhood, the one Namjoon molded with his own hands until it no longer recognized the once-familiar lines of his palm? The one that yearned for Hoseok instead?

A film of tears clouds your eyes and as hard as you try to blink them away, they linger, pooling at your waterline like sea foam. You need your vape, you need him inside you—you can’t face the mirror of the reality of that unfair treatment.

How blind you were; how Hoseok has become that guiding stick.

“Don’t forgive him,” you utter, grasping his chain tighter, drawing him even closer, making his breath tremble. The first tear that pours out leaks into the print of his thumb and at the sound of your soft cry, Hoseok topples. Kneels on the couch with your legs on either side of him and you pull, you pull him closer.

“Do you want me?” he asks—a foolish, foolish question. Presses his forehead against yours, cups your face with both hands now while his back shakes and you touch it, you drag your fingernails down those prominent muscles. And he sighs, so desperately, so tenderly. “Do you want me to let out that life in you?”

“Yes,” you whisper, sliding your hands underneath his black shirt, scratching the lowest part of his warm, warm waist before hooking your fingers on the waistband of his pants. It’s his—it always belonged to him. “Take me. Here.”

He brushes his nose against yours, your breath and his singular. “You’re so feisty.” Lips nearly touch yours and your lungs give out on you, your air coming out in pathetic staccatos that make him growl, subduedly. Muscles rigid, bundle of nerves devoutly pulsing. Please, please. “But no.”

The world implodes, the mocking shimmer of that planetary light gushing through—hand in hand with sobriety.

But Hoseok, the prince of the unthinkable, dips your head back into that darkness. Lifts you by your armpits and sets you down on his lap, his hard length against your core uprearing your need for release.

A hand sailing down your neck, your sternum, acknowledging itself with your respiration. “Don’t give it to me that easily.”

Your own cages him there, right at the apex of the fleshiness of your breasts. “Jebal, Hobi.”

Please, Hobi. You drive, in his fashion, your hips forward—ever so slightly. His eyes round at the mellow variation of his name wandering out of your mouth and wrapping around his neck, as if the gentleness you give him pains him, transforms into a noose around his vocal cords and he can’t speak.

He sighs, the noise melting into a soft, low-pitched moan. “Don’t beg me,” he croaks out, so terribly strung out. “I’m-I’m—”

You lengthen your spine, closing your mouth over that one spot on the side of his throat that you can reach, silencing him. He doesn’t need to speak—you’re fine with the tacit language of his hands. And the taste of his skin, that fucking warmth dissolving upon your tongue, you can’t help but to moan just the same against him like that, rocking your hips awfully, awfully slowly, driving him to the point of madness that he stood at the edge of for so long.

“I want you to touch me,” you murmur, tugging his hand lower to the first done button of your silky shirt and it’s him who hooks his fingers over that fabric now. You lick a stripe across the thick vein of his throat, grinding a little harder when you hear him suck in a pained breath. “I want you to feel that life in me and know it’s yours. Jebal, Hoseokie.”

He grunts, ripping you away from him. You expect his eyes to be narrowed in that typical manner of his, but they’re not. They’re soft, round and glossy, looking down at you, unblinking. A face you’ve never seen before, that feels too, too significant—and you’re not sure if you deserve to get a load of it. Of his pinkish cheeks and downturned mouth, of his fingers agonizingly sluggishly undoing the first button of your shirt.

Of his sentimentality that you never thought he was so efficient at.

The sea that has remotely stilled—but you’re still riding the lenient waves, your torso curving with each button popping off as he engraves his warmth into your cold, cold skin. And once he reaches the very last one, he stops. Holds your shirt together, squishing your breasts, waiting for you to lift your head out of the sea water.

And you do.

He inches forward, grazing his lips against yours, making you feebly cry out.

“Did you cry for him?”

Your cry prolongs, vexation splattering over your arousal, and you’ve had enough of it. You flick your eyes between his, drawing back, flattening your lips in that anger of his that seems to be still flowing in you somewhere. No more, no more Namjoon; no more talk of your past relationship. It’s over, it’s over.

“Stop fucking—”

Hoseok doesn’t relent. Sinks his fingers into the roots of your hair at the nape of your neck to make you listen. “Did you cry for him?”

Your heart wept, but your eyes didn’t. The tear you shed in front of him was the only liquid emotion that spilled out of you since the day of the break up. “No.”

He blows a heavy breath of relief that oddly validates you—and light opens in your sensitive bosom. “Good girl.”

And it is now that Hoseok presses his chest, his dog tags against that light of yours and clamps his mouth down on your top lip, hoisting you a tiny bit to sit you right down on his manhood. His strong arm wraps around your back while the other floats down and curls around your bum, growling into the kiss that he deepens. And then he parts your lips with his, slipping his tongue inside, and the dam breaks between your legs—as well as the quick little whines and squeaks that begin to leak out of your mouth and into his.

The life in you throbs.

His cock hardens even more underneath you and he pushes your clit against it, his noises and yours growing louder and louder in tandem until he’s breathless, panting so vivaciously that he needs a moment. A moment to focus on the mess he’s created of you, a glowing ball of rosiness, the prettiest of all flowers—and you feel like it, being looked at like that.

“I knew you were smart,” he coos, peppering feathery kisses upon your cheek, jaw and chin, descending to the base of your neck. You moan out, fisting his shirt below his collarbones, the continuation of his validation for you nesting in your core. “That life in you will always win. No matter what.”

You believe him—in fact, there’s nothing left for you to do, but to submit, submit and submit. And it feels like entering a dream that is kind, a reality that appears to be a dream, but is better. An existence smeared with clemency, where you can be a little girl again.

“Touch it, please.”

Hoseok hums, kissing the cleft between your clavicles. Shifts forward on the couch so you can rest your spine on the backrest, your head against the wall, and he slides his palms upward from your tummy to the apex of your breasts. You whine, torturously, at the contact, and you shudder and double over when he swipes his thumbs over your still stiffened nipples, buzzing shocks of acute pleasure coursing down your body, rooting in your clit that asks for his fingers, his tongue, but he remains where he is. Transfixed, starving, ravaged.

He kneads your breasts like he kneaded his hands, with overpowering strength that quickens your blood flow, your body submitting to him and flushing like his does. A sliver of skin that your shirt exposes catches his attention—and at the sight of the flesh of your breasts spilling through, his cock twitches, his breath ragged, eyes droopy and so, so drunk. He pinches your nipples, still through that silken fabric, as if he was punishing you for causing him this unfair pain.

Knead, flick, pinch. Your noises are obnoxious, his heat in you rising and rising, and you can’t take it anymore. The drum in your clit thuds and you push him away, the pleasure too overwhelming, too good and too arousing.

And he pushes away the fabric, revealing your perky breasts. A glint settles on the edge of his irises and he gives you a coy smile before he smashes his mouth against yours, moving it in a rhythm that reflects the one in your bundle of nerves. And you grind, you grind like your life depends on it, your nipples and your pussy rubbing against him, against his icy dog tags, getting you closer and closer to your orgasm. And you would come like this had he not physically ripped you away from him.

Heaving, he focuses, all over again, on the ruination he makes of you. The warmth in you flits so invitingly that you have to touch the places he did—your stomach, your sternum, your breasts. And as you do, you watch his gaze darken, you watch him nod his head, and wipe the corner of his mouth clean, catching his drool.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he rasps, following the invisible traces you left on your body. Your stomach, your sternum, your breasts. “Right here. Life. Beautiful life.” He teases your hardened nub, circling it with the pads of his fingers, sliding it between his knuckles and squeezing, his smile growing with each shudder of your chest, with each response. “It’s time to make you come and let it out, you ready? Let’s take these off.”

He tugs off your pajama pants, throws it behind his shoulder, examines the large wet stain on your panties that he coos at, raspily, petting it with his thumb—and you’re so turned on that even such faint touch like that brings you pleasure. You hold onto his arms for dear life, depending on him, trembling when the panties and the shirt are next, tossed upon the pile of your pants.

You’re bare and he’s still fully dressed. Such titillating unfairness that turns you unhinged, maddened by liveliness your body is diffused with.

Hoseok pins your legs back. Takes one hand and glides his fingers across your entire femininity, soaking them in the dew he has coaxed out of you, moaning gutturally.

“He never made you wet like this, did he?” he asks, pride dripping out of him like his masculine pheromones, and with his wet fingers he palms himself. “You don’t even have to answer that. I know. I need to taste you, baby.”

You don’t even get to fill a lungful of the stuffed, vanilla-scented air and he dives in, keeping your legs glued to your shoulders as he seizes your clit in his mouth, sucking on it briefly before he flattens his tongue all over you. He licks you like a lost man finding an oasis, humming into your heat while he tastes your personal slickness, swallowing everything he sowed. You bang your head on the wall, a numbed pang expanding all throughout your scalp by your claw clip, taking it all, moaning so loudly the whole of Seoul must be hearing you. Even Namjoon in his drunkenness, shameful that he never managed to eat you like this in the eight months you were his to consume.

Your orgasm inches to you quickly. With half-lidded eyes, you watch the candlelight create sublime, eccentric images on his back. And as if he couldn’t handle the warmth anymore, he peels himself away from you just to take off his shirt, adding it to the pile. He doesn’t let you see his muscular body—he plunges back down, tongue outstretched, flicking the muscle on your swollen clit. He pinches your thigh, your mound, your folds, whimpering onto your flesh, hurrying to close his mouth over you to suck your clit.

And within that divine suction, you come apart. The beautiful images on his back advance, fluttering on his smooth skin, and you hold him to yourself. The life in you explodes, saturating him in a dimmed, soft-hued, colorful light that he himself must be sensing because he moans, loudly, sinking his index finger inside your clenching hole. You can’t speak, you can’t breathe—you can only feel, you can only take. Your orgasm continues on, a ceaseless stream of delight untwisting in every part of your body.

And when he begins to fuck you with that finger of his and hits that good spot, your orgasm melts into another one. And this time, you can’t take it.

You shake so vivaciously that you fall off the edge of the couch, but he catches you. Hoseok unclips your hair and lays you down, propping your hips on the armrest instead and when he bends at the waist and opens his mouth, you scream out your disagreement, pushing him away.

He blinks at you, mouth sopping wet. “I wasn’t finished.”

Your oxygen is stuck in your throat, one that gets bespeckled with the beads of your dew. “Hoseokie—”

He traces it, wiping it off, holding you there. Presses his hard, clothed length against your bare pussy, rocking slowly, casting a private, affection-filled shadow with the arch of his body over yours. Hoseok kisses you once, a nasty kiss perfumed with your tangy scent, and you cry out.

“The fact you can’t take the bare minimum personally offends me. He had you all to himself and he didn’t do his job well,” he mutters, squeezing your throat once. Drags his wet hand down your sternum, grasping a hold of both of your breasts, clenching them until they flush, again, like him.

There it is, the saltiness of his sea. You yearn for the physical principle of it coating your tongue—for his cum to trickle out of the tip of it like your dew is off of his. And his words, his anger towards his best friend because of you—it heals you in a way you could never heal yourself. Another person seeing you and telling you that you deserve better, it is the most pristine form of remedy there is and you splutter on the whole beauty and compassion of it all, too weak to accept it at once.

“That’s right,” you agree, as enthusiastically as your dopeness allows you, smiling lopsidedly, heart pounding. “Go slow on me.”

He croons, squeezing his eyes. “My little girl.”

He buries his face in your neck, kissing you there, and along with the life in you—your heart explodes, too. The finality of your detransformation. Tears of joy ache in the corners of your eyes, the rawness of human fulfillment housing in you for all eternity.

He kisses his way down to your breasts. “I’ll go slow on you,” he promises, darting out his tongue and flicking it over your nub, making you tremble. He straightens and dances his fingers along your thighs—up to your knees. “Do you want to stop here?”

You shake your head. Place your feet flat on his toned stomach while you feel your dew dribble down your bum. Hoseok smiles, his mouth curving in that way of his that causes your own stomach to drop. He holds your heels, hooking his finger under the band of your socks and yanking them off.

And his grin blooms at the sight of your dusty-pink toes, an endeared look thawing his eyes. He rubs them like he did at the beginning of this journey, keeps one at his stomach while he lifts the other one to his mouth.

Your poor heart skips a beat.

“Do you want me to fuck you like a little girl like you deserves?”

He kisses the ball of your foot, doesn’t break the eye contact. Watches your mouth part in absolute astonishment and your cheeks deepen in their hue. And when he kisses it again, slower this time, it wakes you up from your stupefaction, and you lower your free foot down to his clothed cock. Hoseok groans, the sound muffled against your tootsie, shutting his eyes at the impact. Your chest flickers with a sense of pride that you made him react like that—and you want it again. You trail your toes across that length of his, but before you could reach the most sensitive part of him, he stops you.

Sucks in that pained breath of his, red all over.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.”

You mirror him, the idea of being capable of doing that to him pleasuring you. You leak onto the couch. Your blood boils.

“That’s so hot.”

He chuckles, anchoring your foot upon his heart, tapping it with your big toe. “It’s because you have my heart.”

Your body ceases all work, as well as time. Even the candlelight pauses its dance, concentrating its caressing radiance on that chain of his.

And you don’t think as you scurry onto your knees and embrace him, his dog tags no longer icy. He plants his nose into your hair, inhaling you, sealing you into the hug with both of his arms. Your heart reaches its own towards his and they cling to each other, too.

And you’re not afraid to reciprocate his feelings—they’re as clear to you as that very luminescence of the vanilla candle.

“You have me,” you whisper into his ear, his body not quivering but stable, safe. “You have my life. It’s more of a treasure than my heart.”

He had you the moment he so evidently disapproved of your past relationship. He had you the moment he was curious to see if you were jealous when he was entertaining other women. He had you the moment he purposefully put a distance between you and him because he didn’t want you to get hurt by Namjoon.

You just didn’t know it yet, not until clarity arose in front of you in the form of his honesty.

Hoseok kisses your own ear, lingers there. “I want both.”

“Then, have it.”

And he kisses your forehead. “Thank you. I’ll take care of it.”

You can see in the ivory mist of his eyes that he means it—and so you tug off his military belt as you begin to pepper kisses down the column of his neck because he deserves it, because he cares for you, because he came to you as soon as he heard that you were single. And when you reach those dog tags, the words of his title imprinting themselves onto the surface of your lips, you clasp his cock in your hand. Too big for your small fist, too warm for you to handle—

“Lay back down.”

You bite into the flesh right above that first steel pendant while keeping your eyes locked on his. “Yes, Sergeant.”

Hoseok curses. Wrings a sharp gasp out of you when he pulls on your hair, giving you a nasty kiss full of tongue. “Don’t call me that when I need to be gentle with you,” he scolds, sucking on your bottom lip to make it better and you disintegrate. “Right now I would bend you over this couch and fuck you until Sergeant and Sir was all you knew, but I can’t do that. Not when you’re not used to me yet.”

Yes, the promise of the sea—you convulse from head to toe, pining after it.

“I want that so bad.”

He nods, marking you on your neck. You whimper and he groans in response. “And I’ll give it to you, you just need to be good now. Lay down.”

You comply, but you take him with you—grabbing him by that chain as you arch your back on the couch. He lets you, grins at you like the utmost sunshine, but that expression of delight breaks when a certain realization dawns upon him.

“I didn’t bring any condoms.”

You huff out a soft noise. “Good. I want you to come all over me.”

Hoseok hangs his head low, sighing, on all fours above you. His chain swings, drawing the memory of this very night on your breasts. He looks up at you from this position, his eyes thin slits that cause you to clench around nothing.

“I’ll give you a big load.”

You beam like the purest angel, in spite of the context. “Yes, please.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes back, his façade cracking, and he beams just the same, his mouth widening in the shape of a heart that moves through you. He kisses you deeply, a long peck that breaks you down into a putty, and when he withdraws, you can still see that smile plastered on his glowing face.

“Good girl. Such good manners.”

And with that praise, he sheathes himself inside you. You both gasp in union, entering a paradise no other human will ever witness in the afterlife. He stretches you out, slowly, careful not to hurt you as he waits it out, petting your hair in the meantime.

“I can feel you stretching around me, fuck. You’re so warm, so tight for me,” he rasps, panting, that smile trembling on his lips as he tries to keep it together. He straightens, pinches your nipple and you feel yourself accommodating him quicker at that sudden electricity of pleasure, at the sight of his toned body and that chain. The shine of sweat, the dance of the candlelight, the width of his shoulders and carmine chest as it heaves in desperate hums and groans. You could come just from that—and the sensation is so dizzying that your eyes droop. Hoseok notices, grappling the crook between your neck and shoulder. “Stay with me, baby, you can take this. I’m gonna make you feel so good and you’re gonna come on this cock.”

Those hums of his cruise all the way to your mouth as he sinks that encouragement into it, kissing you deeply, pinning your hands back above your head and sliding his fingers into a celestial intertwinement with yours. They throb within you, those words of his, where they disperse all around, helping you believe that you truly can take the whole manliness of him. Your mind spins, the pressure of your shared atmosphere ringing in your ears, and he knows, he knows that you’re ready for him.

“I’m gonna start moving now. Talk to me, baby. Tell me everything you’re feeling as I fuck you,” he murmurs, unsheathing himself a tiny bit before he curls his hips forward and upwards, creating a languid, spine-tingling rhythm that replicates the waves of his sea. They slosh to and fro with every slow stroke and he kisses your good spot with the tip of his cock. Your eyes flutter open and close, rolling like those waves, but you can still see the way his jaw is clenched, his gums on full show as he seethes in his self-control, the flush of his neck and the flexing of his abdomen that you can’t help but to touch in your otherworldly daze. He stares down at you, intensely, narrows his eyelids and furrows his brows when he feels your touch, and you discover that the spot, where his V-lines lead to your antidote, is one of uttermost sensitivity.

He moans, burying himself deep in you, and stopping there. Mound to mound, soul to soul.

“Fuck, baby, you just know where all my spots are, don’t you?” he asks, his voice so terribly strained, torso doubled over, and you grin.

“I think I was born already knowing them,” you flirt and Hoseok pounds into you for it—a singular thrust that scrambles all your brain cells. Your smile falls, your brows crunch, your throat utters such whiny noise that he himself grunts at the sound of it, and when you lift yourself onto your elbows to see his length driving in and out of you, he pushes you right down by your throat, kissing you hard enough that it hurts.

And he alleviates the lip lock by licking over your tongue, toying with it—all while he, little by little, picks up the rhythm, fucking into you with a force that coaxes your rawest moans out of you.

“You can’t handle my tongue and I can’t handle it when you flirt with me,” he scoffs, smacking his mouth as he turns his head, claiming your mouth, claiming you. “God, I wanna destroy you so bad.”

Your cry is cut out by another savage thrust and you claw at that sensitive spot of his, inciting him to do it again and again. “I’m yours to destroy.”

He pauses, the crown of his cock teasing the beginning of your heat. Sweat drips down his temple and he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that makes your heart twitch in absolute sensuality and relish.

“Say that again.”

Your breath hitches. “I’m yours to destroy.”

Hoseok curses, driving into you all the way. You whine out, clenching your fists, feeling every ridge and every vein of his cock glide forwards and backwards along your walls. And by tensing your body and focusing on the delight he’s gracing your body with, the build-up of your orgasm announces its presence.

“Fuck, Hobi, you feel so good,” you cry, gripping his forearms as he begins to hold your waist steady. He jackhammers into you so viciously that your vision scatters with a creamy hue of ivory, moaning in ragged staccatos that influence you so much that you naturally imitate them, fading into him, becoming one.

“Whose are you?” he growls without interfering with the gracefulness of his sadism, moving back only an inch before slamming back into you, bruising your cervix—and you lose all brain cells, the synapses blanking out.

But only one thing is clear.

“I’m yours.”

And the following snap of his hips drives you out of this world and out of this universe. The gravity keeps your muscles tense, confining your pleasure and the closeness of your orgasm within. The ringing grows in volume and you’re on the cusp.

Hoseok is, too, because he begins to beg.

“Please, please, baby. Come for me. I’m so fucking close for you. Please, I’m gonna come all over you.”

And with a scream that vibrates through the walls of your living room, you comply. Your core grips him, your skin prickles and you levitate—your back arches off the couch, aching to be closer to him, and Hoseok whines.

Pulls out, straddles you, and fist-fucks his shaft with frantic, frenzied motions. Covers you with ropes and ropes of his cum that ripple on your stomach, your sternum and your breasts as you drift in and out of consciousness. Warm, warm essence of his masculinity that is warmer than the rest of him.

Blood-hot.

And you feel as though you deserved every drop.

Deserved to see the beauty of his orgasm. The flush of his lower regions, especially. The sight you longed to see.

Hoseok lets go of his manhood, his hand shiny and wet, though he’s still hard, reaching the beginning of your parting lungs with how big he is. Bigger than Namjoon, bigger than anyone you ever dated. Their names wither in your mind, decomposing. And they lose all meaning.

They cease to exist.

You’re not his best friend’s ex. You’re not anyone’s ex—

“Look at how little you are,” Hoseok comments, interrupting the surge of your maddened thoughts. He smears the puddle of cum on your stomach that his cock can reach and your pussy flutters in constant motions that ask for him again. “So little under me and all mine, aren’t you?”

His avowal brings a fresh dose of oxygen into your lungs and you breathe it in. Want to breathe it in for the rest of your life with him.

But Hoseok doesn’t stop there. Once you agree with him by the nod of your head and a dopey, gratified grin that casts an affirming light on him, he bends over you, his fists on either side of your head.

“I’ll show you what true possessiveness looks like. The world will burn if it hurts you and if people say one bad word to you, it will be the last one they ever said. But they will talk to you and you will talk to them. You will learn about this life of yours. What it holds, what it looks like. And I’ll be standing beside you and I’ll watch over you. Learn it, live it with you.”

He rubs your forehead with his thumb in a fond gesture. Looks at you with a mute meaning that touches your heart and crawls inside before he kisses you, relaxes his lips against yours, and kisses you again.

Again and again.

Again in the shower. Again in your bed when you’re riding him, tasting the life he let out of you, because you blazed up with desire after you washed his body. And the sex is quiet, smothered with those kisses until your mouth and his is numb.

And again throughout the years you acknowledge yourself with that life and realize that you understand it more profoundly and clearly in the process of getting to know Hoseok than this world.

Hoseok is that life.

And you kiss him and whisper those words onto his mouth when you marry him at the altar, years and years later, connecting your life and his forever.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk.

BACK to masterlist

1K notes · View notes

daegudrama · 26 days ago

Text

Title: Suck It Part 1

Pairing: Reader/Jung Hoseok

Summary: What starts as lingering glances and offhand touches turns into something neither of you can ignore. You're not supposed to fall for someone on tour, especially not him. But between stolen moments and rising tension, it's only a matter of time before everything changes.

Word Count: 13.1k

Part 2

read on ao3

The room stills as Hoseok walks in, his confident aura palpable. His easy smile and effortless cool seem to draw the air toward him, like gravity bending to his presence. It’s always fascinating to see the way he commands a room without saying a single word. Your breath catches, despite having rehearsed with him and the rest of the dancers for weeks now. That spark of awe hasn’t dimmed. If anything, it's grown, fueled by the moments he’s given you. The encouraging nods, and the praise he doesn’t usually offer lightly.

Hoseok’s gaze sweeps over the group, and when it lands on you, his grin widens just slightly. “Alright, team. Let’s go hard today. I want the energy up, no holding back,” he says, his voice warm but firm.

The room bursts into motion, everyone eager to match the energy Hoseok expects. The rehearsal is grueling but electric, every step and every movement carrying weight and purpose. You throw yourself into the choreography, pushing your limits, aware of Hoseok’s eyes occasionally flicking in your direction. The senior dancers seem to notice too, their expressions tight, their movements sharper than usual as if they’re trying to outshine you. Good luck.

The tension lingers in the air, but you keep your focus. You’ve worked too hard to let their jealousy rattle you now. Every move, every count, is an opportunity to prove yourself, and to everyone else, why you belong here.

By the time Hoseok claps his hands, signaling the end of the rehearsal, your muscles ache, and sweat clings to your skin. “Good work today, everyone,” he says, his voice carrying genuine approval for once. “Let’s keep building on this energy. Get some rest and stay hydrated. We are just a few weeks out now.”

The team disperses, some dancers chatting in low voices while others grab their bags and file out. You linger to stretch, avoiding the sideways glances from the senior dancers as they leave in a cluster. Their whispers trail behind them, but you block it out, focusing instead on your breathing as you pack your things.

Feeling the need to clear your head, you wander into an empty practice room down the hall. The space is quiet, the mirrors reflecting the stillness. You drop your bag by the wall and start running through a few sections of the choreography on your own. The rhythm grounds you, each movement a reminder of why you’re here.

“Still working?”

The familiar voice makes you freeze mid-step. You turn to see Hoseok leaning in the doorway, his expression soft but unreadable. He steps inside, letting the door close behind him.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here,” you admit, your voice a little shy.

“I could say the same to you,” he replies with a faint smile. “You already gave everything in rehearsal. What’s keeping you here?”

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lips. “I guess…I just needed a minute to breathe. To clear my head.”

Hoseok crosses the room, his movements unhurried. “I noticed the way some of them were acting today,” he says, cutting straight to the heart of it. “I wanted to check in with you after rehearsal, but I didn’t want to bring it up in front of everyone.”

Your chest tightens, embarrassment and frustration swirling together. The things you overheard earlier reply in your mind, stinging like fresh wounds. You’d walked into the changing room mid-whisper, and though they stopped when they saw you, the smirks and knowing looks said it all. The other dancers' whispers were sharp, accusing you of things so far from the truth they almost felt laughable—if it didn’t hurt so much. They assume you’ve slept with someone, blackmailed staff, or even bribed Hoseok to get the opportunities you’ve earned. None of it is true. You pour everything into this, long nights perfecting choreography, pushing through exhaustion, and showing up with relentless determination. All you want is to be accepted and appreciated. But it doesn’t matter to them. They refuse to see your effort, dismissing it all as underserved favoritism. Now standing in front of Hoseok, the weight of those baseless accusations feels heavier, but the steady warmth in his gaze offers a sliver of relief. Without needing to hear the details, he seems to know exactly what’s on your mind, and the sincerity in his presence alone reminds you why you’ve fought so hard to be here.

“I’m fine. Really,” you say quickly.

Hoseok’s eyes search yours for a moment, as if trying to gauge how much of that “fine” is genuine. His expression softens, and he steps closer, his tone careful but firm. “You don’t have to say that. I know what it’s like being in the spotlight, having people assume the worst just because they don’t know your story or don’t want to see your talent for what it is. It’s not fair, and it’s not right.”

Your throat tightens, the effort to hold back the emotions you’ve been bottling up threatening to break. You nod, lowering your gaze to the floor. “I’ve worked so hard, Hoseok,” you admit quietly, your voice trembling despite your best effort to keep it steady. “Every single thing I’ve gotten, I earned. But no matter how hard I push myself, they don’t see that. They don’t want to see it.”

He exhales softly, a look of understanding crossing his face. “They’re threatened,” he says simply. “By your talent, your energy, and the way you carry yourself. That’s not on you, that’s on them.” His voice drops slightly, more serious now. “But I need you to promise me something: don’t let their insecurities dim your light. You’re here because you deserve to be here. Nothing anyone says can take that away.”

You blink, his words settling over you like a warm blanket. For a moment, the weight on your chest eases, and you feel seen. Not just as a dancer, but as someone who’s been fighting for their place. “Thank you,” you whisper, the sincerity in your tone matching his.

Hoseok smiles gently, his hand twitching like he’s considering reaching out but stops himself. “Don’t thank me for telling the truth,” he says with a wink, his tone lightening. “But if you need to talk, about this, about anything. I’m here. You don’t have to shoulder this alone.”

The warmth in his words stays with you as he steps back, giving you space. He gestures to the empty room with a small grin. “Now, let’s see what you’ve been working on. Show me that fire they’re so jealous of.”

The silence in the practice room becomes a melody of its own as you reset to the opening pose, your heart thundering as you meet Hoseok’s gaze in the mirror. You take a steadying breath and let the music in your head guide you. With each movement, you channel everything—the doubts, the whispers, the quiet anger, and the determination that keeps you moving forward. You’ve rehearsed this choreography countless times, but tonight, it feels different. Hoseok’s presence sharpens your focus, pushing you to dance not just for yourself but for the truth of your abilities.

As you finish, your chest heaving from the exertion, you finally look at him. His arms are crossed, his expression unreadable, but the intensity in his eyes tells you everything. He takes a step forward, clapping once, slow and deliberate. “That,” he says, his voice low but filled with certainty, “is exactly why you’re here. No one can take that away from you.”

You don’t trust yourself to respond, simply nodding as you gather your things. Hoseok doesn’t say anything more, giving you a parting glance that lingers just long enough to leave you wondering.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The next rehearsal is nothing short of brutal. The room pulses with intensity as bodies move in perfect synchrony, sweat painting the floor beneath them. Each beat of the music is met with sharp, deliberate motion as the group drills the choreography again and again, the echo of sneakers and stomps filling the mirrored space. You’re dancing like muscle memory has taken over, fluid, focused, determined, barely noticing the burning in your limbs anymore.

After a full run-through, the choreographer finally calls for a break. Everyone collapses to the floor or grabs their water bottles, panting and grateful. You grab a towel to dab the sweat from your neck, catching your breath when the lead choreographer suddenly steps forwards again.

“Alright, listen up,” he says, his voice slicing through the hum of low conversation. “J-Hope choreographed a new section that will feature three pairs. He’ll be choosing who gets the spotlight tomorrow. Until then, you’ll be working with assigned partners to learn the duet. Learn quickly and show me you want this.”

You sit up straighter as he begins pairing dancers. There’s a flicker of anxiety in your chest, this section is important. It’s not just about technique anymore. It’s about chemistry, presence, making people feel something.

Your name is called alongside Heeseung’s, and relief washes over you. He’s one of the few who doesn’t treat you like an outsider. Maybe it’s because he’s newer to the team too, or maybe it’s because he doesn’t get involved in the drama. Either way, you’ll take it.

The music shifts to something lower, grittier, slower. You both watch as the assistant choreographer demonstrates the duet. It’s bold, sensual, and more intimate than anything you’ve done with this group before. Hands sliding over waists, synchronized steps that pull the dancers close before sending them apart again, dramatic pauses that demand eye contact. It’s not raunchy, it’s electric, and it’s meant to make the audience feel something.

You glance at Heeseung as the demo ends. He just raises his brows with a quiet smirk and says, “Ready?” And just like that, you fall into step.

Heeseung matches your energy beat for beat. His movement is clean, sharp, but when the music calls for it, he melts into the flow like honey. His facial expressions are deadly. Confident, teasing, completely in sync with the mood. Rehearsing with him doesn't feel like work; it’s fun, even a little thrilling. For the first time in days, you’re reminded why you love this.

But not everyone is thriving. You notice Mina and her usual crew struggling to grasp the rhythm and comfort of the pairing. Some of the girls look visibly uncomfortable, hesitating at the close contact or fumbling through transitions. There’s a mean spirited satisfaction in watching the girls who usually whisper about you now floundering under pressure. Maybe it’s petty, but it feels like karma is right on time.

“YN and Heeseung, come to the front.”

You both step forward, brushing past someone who audibly sighs and rolls their eyes behind you. The choreographer ignores it, gesturing for you two to demonstrate.

“Watch them,” he says to the rest of the room. “This is what I’m looking for.”

The music kicks in and you lose yourself in it. You give every step your full attention, every beat your best expression, letting the tension and chemistry between you and Heeseung do the work. When the final pose hits and the music fades, the room is quiet before the choreographer claps once, satisfied, but only with you and Heeseung.

“Again,” he says simply. And so you do it again. And again. Until you stop counting.

By the time rehearsal ends, your shirt is sticking to your back and your thighs ache with the effort of hours spent pushing yourself to the limit. You’re grabbing your things when a familiar voice calls your name.

“Hey!” Yunjin jogs up beside you, practically bouncing. “You killed that duet. Like, seriously—if Hoseok doesn’t pick you tomorrow he’s blind. That section is so good. I love it.”

You try to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Yunjin narrows hers. “Okay. What’s up? You’re not freaking out about Mina again, are you?”

“I’m not freaking out,” you say quickly, but the look on her face tells you she doesn’t buy it. You sigh. “I just…we cannot mess up tomorrow. Hoseok is going to be extra critical. We have to be perfect.”

Yunjin giggles. “You sound like you’re about to audition for the Olympics or something.”

“We kind of are. The duet is a big deal.”

A mocking voice chimes in from behind you. “As if he would pick you.”

You don’t even need to turn around to know who it is. Mina.

She’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, one hip cocked like she owns the hallway. Her perfectly arched eyebrow is raised, her lips curl into a smug little smirk. There’s no denying she’s talented, probably one of the best dancers in the crew, but her jealousy has always poisoned her shine.

You turn to face her slowly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “You should focus on your own part before worrying about mine.”

Mina’s smile tightens, but she doesn’t reply right away. Her gaze flicks to Yunjin and then back to you, eyes narrowed. “We’ll see who he picks tomorrow.”

She walks off without another word, her ponytail swinging like a warning behind her.

Yunjin scoffs beside you. “She’s just mad you were asked to demonstrate. Again.”

“Still,” you murmur, staring down the hallway. “Tomorrow is going to be a war.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The next day, the rehearsal room buzzes with nervous energy before anyone even steps onto the floor. There’s an edge to every voice, a sense that something important is about to happen. You can feel it in your bones. Today matters.

You’re already stretching in the corner when thet door swings open and Hoseok walks in, sunglasses perched on his nose, a cap pulled low, and that unmistakable aura trailing behind him like static electricity. The room seems to exhale all at once, tension morphing into something else. Anticipation, maybe. Respect. He’s calm but focused, nodding a silent greeting to the choreographer and a few dancers he passes on the way in. Then his eyes sweep the room.

When they land on you, he gives a small smile, barely there, but enough to make your stomach flip for a second before you snap your attention back to your warm up. He’s always been kind, professional, but tough. Hoseok doesn’t hand out praise easily. You have to earn it.

“Alright team,” he says, clapping once, his voice sharper than the last time you heard it. “I’ve seen the footage from yesterday. Some of it was promising. Some of it…needs work.”

A few dancers shift uncomfortably. Mina stiffens beside you.

“We’re going to run all the pair choreo. I want to see full energy, no holding back. Expressions. Intensity. Chemistry. Everything.” He pauses. “At the end of rehearsal, I’ll be choosing three pairs to feature.”

There’s a murmur through the group, some excited, some anxious. Hoseok doesn’t reveal the last part of the plan, but the stakes are already high. The chance to be in a featured pair for a section he choreographed? That’s already enough to make people push past their limits.

You and Heeseung watch from the sidelines as the first duets go up. Some are good, technically clean, and well rehearsed. Others lack a spark. Mina’s routine is sharp, but her partner feels like an afterthought. You can almost see her trying too hard to win instead of just dance.

Finally, your names are called.

You move into position with Heeseung, exchanging one quick glance before the music hits.

And then, it’s all instinct.

You both dive into the choreo like you’ve done this hundreds of times, like you were made to move together. There’s tension, heat, and a boldness to every step. Your hands slide into places like muscle memory, your eyes lock when they need to, and your movements match so seamlessly it barely feels like performance, it feels like connection.

When the final beat hits and you hold the last pose, the silence in the room feels different.

Then Hoseok claps. Just once. Crisp and deliberate.

“That,” Hoseok says, a smile creeping onto his face. “That’s the energy I want.”

You pull back slightly, catching your breath as the music fades. Heeseung subtly bumps your shoulder with his, and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

“Take five,” Hoseok says. “Then we’ll run it one last time with the final picks.”

You step off to the side, heart still pounding, when Yunjin beelines for you with wide eyes.

“He clapped,” she hisses, gripping your arm like she might explode. “You know what that means.”

You shrug like it’s no big deal, but you’re still buzzing. Hoseok never claps for the group unless something really hits. The look in his eyes when you're finished…there was something extra there. Something calculating.

Across the room, Mina stares daggers through your reflection, arms crossed so tightly it looks painful. You ignore her.

When the break ends, everyone regathers, tension thick in the air.

Hoseok stands at the front again. “I’ve made my decisions,” he says. “These three pairs will be featured in the sections.”

He starts calling names—Heeseung and your name first.

Your stomach flips. You don’t look at Mina, but you can practically feel the steam coming off her.

Hoseok finishes naming the other two pairs, then adds, “One more thing.”

The room stills.

“There’s another slot. Not a pair.” He pauses just long enough for everyone to start glancing around. “One dancer does the duet with me.”

You blink.

A duet with Hoseok? A sharp, electric silence stretches through the room as he scans the group again, his expression unreadable.

“I’ll decide after one final run through,” he says, stepping back. “So if you’re holding back…now’s your last chance.”

The final run-through feels heavier, like everyone is pushing beyond their limits. The chosen pairs are locked in, but that solo duet spot is still up for grabs.

You give the routine everything. Every movement, every look, every shift of weight is intentional. You know Hoseok is watching—really watching—and there’s no room for mistakes. Heeseung matches your energy, and for a second, you forget about the stakes, about the competition. It’s just you and the music, your body moving like it belongs in this moment.

When the last beat lands, you hold your final pose, breathless, feeling the weight of Hoseok’s stare.

Then, after a long pause, he exhales and nods.

“Alright.” His voice is calm, but the decision is final. “The featured three pairs are set. And for the solo…”

The tension is thick. You swear you hear someone’s breath hitch.

“…YN.”

Your heart slams against your ribs.

There’s a ripple of reaction around you, some hushed murmurs, a sharp intake of breath. Mina stiffens, her arms crossing, jaw tight.

Hoseok continues, his voice steady. “It’s a shame to separate such a strong pair, but YN is the best pick for this.” His eyes flicker to Heeseung for a brief moment before returning to you. “You have the control, the expression, and the versatility this role needs.”

You barely register Yunjin’s hand squeezing yours in excitement before Hoseok speaks again.

“Heeseung, you’ll be with Yunjin.”

Yunjin lets out a tiny squeak, trying, and failing, to keep her composure. Heeseung just grins, giving her an encouraging nod.

That’s it. That’s the final lineup.

You and Hoseok in the front. Three pairs behind.

Mina…nowhere.

The realization sinks in across the room, and you don’t miss the way her hands clench into fists at her sides, but she says nothing. Doesn’t make a scene. Just lifts her chin slightly, as if daring anyone to pity her.

Hoseok claps his hands together. “That’s it. Rehearsal’s over. Get some rest and we run full-out tomorrow.”

You exhale, the adrenaline still pulsing through you.

As the dancers begin filtering out, Yunjin throws an arm around your shoulder, practically bouncing. “Are you kidding me? With Hoseok? Front and center? You’re about to be iconic.”

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. “I can’t believe it.”

She grins. “Believe it. And be ready because if he’s dancing with you, he’s expecting perfection.”

You already know that. And for the first time, it doesn’t feel terrifying.

It feels like a challenge you’re ready to take.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The room empties out slowly, dancers murmuring their goodbyes as they head for the exit. You start to follow Yunjin, but before you can take another step, Hoseok’s voice calls out behind you.

“YN, stay for a minute.” Just beyond the doorway you see Yunjin pause. Hoseok notices and addresses her. “Yunjin, I’ll make sure she gets home safely.”

You pause, turning back to face him. He stands in the center of the room, rolling his shoulders out, an easy confidence in his stance. Your heart kicks up slightly. You take a slow breath, stepping back onto the dance floor as the last of the others disappear down the hallway. The door swings shut, leaving just the two of you in the massive rehearsal space.

Hoseok tilts his head, studying you for a beat before speaking. “I wanted to run through a few things. It’s important that we’re comfortable with each other before we start full rehearsals with this.”

You nod, shifting your weight slightly. It makes sense. Dance, especially a duet, is about trust.

“I know you can handle yourself,” Hoseok continues. “You’re an amazing dancer. But I also know it can be intimidating dancing with someone like me.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he raises an eyebrow, and you know he’s right.

It’s not that you doubt your skill. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t good enough. But Hoseok is Hoseok. Years of experience, endless stage presence, and an almost supernatural ability to make every move feel effortless. It’s impossible not to feel the weight of that.

Still, you refuse to let nerves show. “I’ll be fine,” you say.

He grins. “Good. Then let’s start.”

You move into position. The choreography isn’t foreign anymore, but the difference is immediate—this isn’t Heeseung. He is a few inches shorter than your previous partner and Hoseok moves with a fluidity and confidence that makes every step feel like second nature to him.

But when it comes time to place your hands on him, you hesitate. It’s just for a fraction of a second, but he notices.

Hoseok chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Pretend I’m Heeseung.”

You blink.

“It’s the same thing,” he says easily. “Same hands, same pressure. No difference.”

No difference. Right. You swallow, nodding, and this time, when your hands find their place, you commit to it.

Hoseok hums approvingly. “Better. But—” He shifts, taking your wrists in his hands, adjusting them slightly. His grip is warm, firm but not forceful. “More weight here. Less here. Feel the difference?”

You do. He guides you through it, step by step, his touch light but precise. The smallest corrections, pressure, angles, breath control and as you move, something shifts.

The hesitation melts away, replaced by something new. Tension. Not the bad kind. The kind that makes every movement electric, every glance charged. Hoseok notices it too, but he doesn’t acknowledge it outright. He just meets your eyes for a beat longer than necessary before pulling away.

“Good,” he says simply. “That’s enough for now.”

You exhale, feeling something unravel inside you.

For a while, neither of you says anything. You both just sit on the floor, catching your breath. The silence isn’t awkward, it’s comfortable.

Then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you say, “I danced from when I was three until I was fifteen. I don’t know how they got the idea I just started a few years ago. Dance was my whole life for most of my life.”

Hoseok turns his head slightly, listening.

“I had to stop because I tore my ACL.” You glance down at your knee, absently tracing a pattern on your leggings. “I recovered pretty fast, but when I tried to come back, my peers had already gotten too far ahead. I felt like I couldn’t compete anymore.”

You don’t look at him, but you can feel him watching you.

“So I quit.” You let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “I didn’t dance at all for years. Until about three years ago.”

Hoseok leans back on his hands. “What changed?”

Your lips curve slightly. “I saw a BTS dance practice.” His eyebrows lift in surprise. “I don’t even remember which one it was,” you admit, shaking your head. “But something about the way you guys moved made me want to move again. I started learning choreography for fun and before I knew it…I was back.”

A beat of silence passes before he speaks again.

“That’s crazy,” he murmurs. Then softer, “In a good way.”

You finally glance at him, and there’s something unreadable in his expression. A flicker of something behind his eyes, like he’s processing more than he’s saying. And then he smiles, slow and knowing.

“Well,” he says, pushing himself to his feet and offering a hand. “Guess that means this dance is a full-circle moment, huh?”

Your chest tightens just a little. You take his hand.

And as he pulls you up, you think—yeah. Maybe it is. Your hand is still warm from his as you gather your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You expect him to head out first, maybe give a casual “see you tomorrow,” but instead, Hoseok lingers near the door, waiting for you.

“You ready?” he asks.

You blink. “Uh…yeah.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

You give him a sideways glance. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I said I would,” he cuts in, gentle but firm. “Told Yunjin I’d get you home safe.”

You’re not sure if he’s doing it out of politeness or something else, but you nod anyway. “Okay.”

The night air is cool when you step outside the building, still warm from rehearsal. Hoseok walks beside you, his hood pulled up again, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He doesn’t say much at first, and neither do you. It’s a comfortable kind of quiet, the kind that settles in when something meaningful just happened.

You expect him to point you toward the train or call a staff car to take you home.

Instead, he falls into step beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You don’t have to walk me,” you say gently, glancing over.

He shrugs. “I know.”

You pause. “Then why are you?”

Hoseok doesn’t answer right away. He keeps his gaze forward, but you catch the faintest lift of his lips. “I said I’d make sure you got home safe, didn’t I?”

You smile softly, heart fluttering. “You didn’t have to actually do that. People are gonna talk.”

“They already do,” he says, voice light, teasing. “Might as well make it worth it.”

You laugh, and he grins at the sound.

As you walk, the sharp edges of the professional Hoseok, the perfectionist, the dance leader, the choreographer, start to fade away. Instead, something else emerges. Softer. Warmer. This is the version of him you’ve only seen in clips. The one who makes dumb jokes on Run BTS, laughs with his whole chest, and gets way too into silly games.

“You know,” he says, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets, “you looked like you were gonna pass out the first time I corrected your placement.”

“I was not,” you protest, bumping your shoulder lightly into his. “Okay, maybe a little. You’re kind of a big deal.”

He laughs. “Nah. I’m just a guy who never stops dancing. Kind of annoying, actually.”

You shake your head. “You’re really not.”

There’s a pause, and when you glance over, he’s watching you with that same unreadable look from the studio. It’s not intense or overwhelming, it’s just steady. Thoughtful.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he tells you. “You’re a good dancer and you feel the music. That’s rare.”

Your cheeks warm. “You’re just saying that ‘cause I said you inspired me.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true,” he replies. “You’ve got something.”

You walk a few more paces in silence before his voice comes again, this time quieter. “And hey…I meant the other thing, too.”

You glance at him.

“If something’s ever messing with your head, whatever it is, you can tell me.” He doesn’t look at you when he says it. “You don’t have to hold it all in.”

The memory of that conversation in the empty studio flashes through your mind, the way his voice had softened when he told you he knew what it was like, the way he saw straight through you without prying. You swallow the sudden lump in your throat.

“I’ll remember that,” you say quietly.

He nods like that’s enough. You reach your building quicker than you thought. When you stop in front of the gate, you half expect him to wave you off and leave. Instead, Hoseok lingers.

“This is me,” you say, turning to him.

He nods, taking a step back but not quite leaving. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna be brutal.”

You smile. “Looking forward to it.”

He holds your gaze for a moment longer, then gives a small salute and turns to go. You don’t move until he disappears around the corner.

Inside, the lights are on. Yunjin is waiting, perched on the edge of the couch, a snack bag in her lap and a look of pure, concentrated mischief on her face.

You don’t even get your shoes off before she pounces.

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

You blink, taking a step away from her. “I—”

She stands. “Nope. Don’t even try to play it cool. You stayed late with J-Hope. You walked home with J-Hope. And you’re blushing.”

“I’m not blushing,” you mumble, which only makes her laugh harder.

“You so are,” she says, grabbing your arm and dragging you toward the couch. “Spill. Every little detail. Right now.”

And you do. Eventually.

But as you tell her the story, there’s one part you leave out. A moment too small to explain, but impossible to forget:

The way Hoseok looked at you when he said, “You can tell me anything.”

Like he meant it.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The studio is quiet now. Most of the dancers have filtered out, the buzz of today’s rehearsal replaced with the faint hum of a speaker left on low volume. You’re sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of you, rolling out your calves with a foam roller. The mirror reflects the tired set of your shoulders, your hair sticking to your neck, and the slightly dazed look in your eyes.

You’re not sure when Hoseok came back in, but you hear the door click shut and the soft shuffle of his steps before he drops onto the floor beside you.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just sits close enough that your arms could brush if you leaned a little to the side. Then he speaks and it’s quiet, but direct.

“You good?”

You glance at him, blinking like you hadn’t expected him to actually sit down.

“Yeah,” you say quickly. Too quickly. “Just tired.”

Hoseok doesn’t look convinced. His expression is steady, unreadable like it always is when he’s being careful with his words.

“You danced like you were somewhere else today,” he says, not unkindly. “Still sharp, but…distracted. Off. It wasn’t physical, it was in your head.”

You press your lips together, pretending to focus on the roller beneath your thigh. “It’s nothing serious. Just some…catty stuff.”

He tilts his head. “Catty like ‘someone wore the same shoes as me,’ or catty like ‘people are being assholes behind your back’?”

You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment. “It doesn’t matter.”

Hoseok shifts his weight, leaning forward a little. His voice softens, but there’s an edge of seriousness under it. “It clearly does matter. If something’s going on that’s affecting how you feel here, I need to know.”

You glance at him. His brows are drawn in concern, not in a nosy way, but in that quiet, careful way of someone who’s watching more closely than he lets on.

You try to smile, but it feels tight. “It’s just some girls being salty. Nothing new.”

“Was it Mina?”

You pause. That alone tells him everything.

He exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “What did they say?”

You shake your head, grabbing your water bottle and taking a long sip to stall.

“Hey,” Hoseok says, gentler now. “I’m not asking because I want drama. I just don’t like the idea of you being put in a bad spot because of me.”

You blink. “You?”

He meets your gaze, expression open. “I’ve been around long enough to know what people say when they think attention isn’t fair. Especially when it comes from someone like me. I shouldn’t have pulled you aside yesterday without making it clear to the group why. It gave them room to assume things.”

Your chest tightens. “It’s not your fault.”

“But they’re whispering about you, aren’t they?”

You look down. “Yeah,” you admit softly. “They said I must’ve begged for the rehearsal. Or offered something in return. That I don’t deserve the spot.”

There’s a heavy silence. Hoseok doesn't respond right away.

When you glance up, his jaw is tight, eyes unreadable.

“I can talk to them,” he offers.

You shake your head instantly. “No. Please don’t. That would just make it worse. If they think I ran to you, they’ll hate me even more.”

He doesn’t argue, but you can feel the tension in him.

“You shouldn't have to deal with this,” he says finally, quieter than before. “None of this is your fault. You work hard. You earned your spot. And anyone who can’t see that, who chooses not to see it, doesn’t deserve to be taken seriously.”

You nod, barely. He watches you for a moment longer, then shifts slightly, bumping your knee with his.

“You can tell me anything, you know.”

You look over at him.

“I mean it,” he says. “Even if we’re not close or whatever yet. If stuff like this keeps happening, please don’t carry it alone.”

You nod again, this time more sincerely.

“Thanks,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

He gives you a small smile, then gets to his feet and holds out a hand.

“C’mon. Show me where you got stuck earlier. Let’s work through it before we call it.”

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet, and before you can say anything, he’s already stepping back toward the center of the studio gesturing for you to follow.

“Let’s go from the beginning,” he says, sliding his foot across the floor into position. “Just our duet. No pressure…feel it out.”

You nod and move into place, facing him, your heart still a little tight from the conversation, but lighter than before. The music kicks in low from the speaker, just loud enough to hear the rhythm, and you both fall into motion.

You mirror each other for a few counts before stepping into the partnered section, his hands catching yours, the turn, the lift, the slow lean-in that has your breath catching for a reason that has nothing to do with the choreography.

His eyes flick up to meet yours for just a second, the barest glint of mischief in them.

“You sure you’re not mad at me?” he asks mid-spin, voice teasing as you land.

You blink, confused. “What?”

“Your grip is kind of intense,” he jokes, laughing softly.

You scoff and roll your eyes, but your cheeks flush all the same. “Maybe I am mad at you.”

“Damn. I knew it,” he says dramatically, tossing his head back in mock despair before resetting for the next movement. “Guess I’ll go cry in the corner. Alone. With my incredible sense of rhythm.”

You huff a laugh, the tightness in your chest easing just a bit more.

The next run-through goes smoother. Your timing aligns perfectly, and the tension that’s been coiled in your body all morning starts to melt away. Between counts, Hoseok slips into goofy-mode. He’s pulling exaggerated faces during transitions, pretending to wobble like a baby deer when you jump, and fake-swooning when you land a tricky turn.

“You trying to show me up?” he asks between breaths, hands on his hips. “I thought this was a partnership.”

You smirk. “Sounds like someone’s feeling threatened.”

He gasps. “Okay. Wow. I’m being disrespected in my own studio.”

You giggle, covering your mouth. “You started it.”

“Me?” He points to himself with wide eyes. “I’m innocent.”

“You’re literally never innocent.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Yeah, but I’m cute.”

You hesitate just long enough for him to notice, your brain scrambling to process whether that was flirting or just…Hoseok being Hoseok.

He grins like he knows exactly what he’s doing and spins toward the mirror, smoothing back his sweat-damp hair in exaggerated slow-motion. “Okay. Again from the top,” he declares dramatically. “This time with ten percent more flirtation and twenty percent more sass.”

You snort. “Is that the official note?”

“Yes. I’m very professional.”

He catches your eye in the mirror, and you smile without meaning to. He returns it, softer this time, a little more real.

“Seriously,” he says, tone dropping just a bit, “you good now?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. “Yeah. I think I am.”

Hoseok just nods, like he expected nothing less, and lifts a hand toward the speaker. “Then let’s dance.”

And this time, when the music starts again, you really let yourself move.

The music flows around you, the rhythm pulling you back into your body as you and Hoseok move together again. Everything sharpens, the way your hands connect, the heat of exertion building under your skin, the way he smiles when you hit the counts just right.

You’re in the final eight, the part where your bodies come close—close enough that your breath catches and you almost forget you’re supposed to keep moving. Hoseok’s palm slides to the small of your back, guiding you through the turn. His voice is low but playful.

“See?” he says. “Told you we’d get it.”

You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth lift. “You’re not always right, you know.”

“I am when it comes to this,” he grins. “And also when it comes to—”

The studio door creaks open with a soft click.

You both freeze.

He’s still close. His hand is still on your waist. Your breath still feels just a little too loud in your throat.

Sana stands in the doorway, blinking like she didn’t expect to see anyone. Her brows lift a fraction as she takes in the scene, your closeness, the music, the fact that you’re both very clearly in the middle of something.

“Oh,” she says, smiling a little too wide. “Didn’t realize there was still rehearsal going on.”

You step back immediately, your body going stiff as you reach for your water bottle, suddenly hyper-aware of how this must look.

Hoseok clears his throat, casual but a little clipped. “Private practice,” he says evenly. “We’re running duet sections.”

Sana’s eyes flick between you two. “Right. Of course.” Her tone is perfectly polite, but there’s something just beneath it. You know she’ll twist this. She doesn’t need evidence, just the image.

She lingers a second longer before turning toward the lockers. “Don’t mind me,” she calls over her shoulder. “Just grabbing my sweatshirt.”

You glance at Hoseok, but he’s already looking at you.

“Ignore her,” he says under his breath. “This is our time. Let her talk if she wants.”

But your chest has already tightened again.

You nod, trying to keep the knot in your stomach from growing. “Let’s just finish the run.”

He hesitates, eyes scanning your face, then gives a soft, reassuring smile. “Okay. From the top. Let’s kill it.”

The music starts again, but it’s harder now to ignore the whispers that you know are coming.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The studio is already humming with quiet chatter and the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor when you walk in the next morning. Your duffel hangs heavy on your shoulder, but not as heavy as the pit in your stomach. The last rehearsal before tour. The final run of the full program. It should feel exciting.

Instead, the energy feels…off.

You’re barely a few steps inside when you catch it. Low whispers, the kind that stop just as quickly as they start. You glance toward the mirrors, where Sana and Mina are stretching with two other girls. One of them, Momo, smirks and leans in closer to Mina, who’s pretending to focus on her split stretch.

“Must’ve been a late night,” Mina says under her breath, not looking at you.

Sana hums thoughtfully. “Mm. Guess some people need the extra help.”

The girls snicker, and you feel a flush rise to your cheeks. Yunjin, walking just behind you, hears it too. She mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like, “I swear to god,” but you gently tug on her arm before she can say anything louder.

“Not worth it,” you murmur.

Yunjin shoots you a glare, protective and fiery. “They think they’re slick, but they’re just sad.”

You give her a small smile, but the edge of it wavers.

You take your usual spot on the floor to begin warming up, trying to stay focused, but the tension in the room is palpable. Everyone knows this is a big day. The full run-through. All eyes will be on Hoseok’s final decisions who shines, who doesn’t, and who might get more spotlight once the tour kicks off.

Your nerves were already frayed, but now the added scrutiny. The stares, the fake laughter, the whispered theories about why Hoseok chose you for the duet, it makes your stomach churn.

You stretch in silence, headphones in, trying to block them out. You know you earned your place. You know. But it doesn’t stop the noise.

Hoseok walks in fifteen minutes later, ball cap low over his brow and a coffee in hand. The room shifts instantly. Everyone straightens, energy tightening like a wire pulled taut.

His eyes flick across the studio as he greets everyone with a quick, “Morning,” before his gaze lands briefly on you.

It lingers for just a second.

You don’t smile. You don’t react.

You can’t. Not with every pair of eyes watching.

“Alright,” Hoseok claps his hands together. “Let’s run it top to bottom. No stops. Treat it like a real show. Find your focus and give me everything you’ve got.”

People start moving to their places, but the whispers haven’t stopped. If anything, they’ve just gone quieter slinking under the surface like snakes in tall grass.

You swallow hard and exhale through your nose. One more rehearsal. Then the tour begins, and maybe hopefully you’ll finally be too busy proving yourself to hear them at all.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The first few shows in Seoul go off without a hitch. Every cue lands, every formation clicks, and the energy in the KSPO Dome is electric. Hoseok commands the stage like he was born on it, and somehow, being beside him under the lights feels more natural than nerve-wracking. You move in sync, you hit every mark, and the crowd responds with deafening cheers that echo in your chest long after you leave the stage.

But the online reaction? A different story.

Korean fans aren’t exactly thrilled about the close choreography between you and Hoseok. Some accuse the creative team of pushing too hard for attention, as if this wasn’t his idea. Others aren’t shy about voicing their discomfort, dissecting every interaction between the two of you with brutal intensity.You don’t let it get to you, you’ve worked too hard to be shaken by faceless usernames and half baked speculation.

Brooklyn night one is just as electric. The crowd is louder, rowdier, and when you step off stage soaked in sweat, there’s a fire in your blood that you don’t want to put out.

Then comes night two and the day starts to unravel just a few hours before showtime.

You’re in the dressing room, tying your hair back, when the stage manager walks in looking like she’s carrying a live grenade. “Wardrobe issue. One of the interns hung your outfits in the wrong place and they are ruined,” she says, holding up her phone. “Customs seized the backup costumes when they came into the U.S. The shipment paperwork was flagged.”

You blink. “All of them?”

“Everything. Yours, the duets, even the encore outfits.”

Your stomach sinks. “So…what are we supposed to wear?”

She disappears behind a garment rack and pulls out a hanger. It holds a cropped jersey with the tour logo in silver glitter across the chest. On the back, it reads in huge block letters:

HOPE’S GIRL

You stare. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“They were from a scrapped number. We have a full box of them in the truck. They’re clean, they’re pressed, and they fit the aesthetic.”

You eye the jersey. It’s cute. Actually, it’s really cute. But it’s also really cropped, your stomach will be fully on display. And the name on the back? Way too bold.

“Isn’t this a little…” you gesture vaguely at the lettering. “Much?”

“Do you want to fly to Newark and sweet talk the customs agents yourself?” the manager asks, half-joking, half-panicked. “Because call time’s in thirty.”

You don’t have a choice. You change.

The jersey fits like it was made for you. Snug in all the right places, sleeves cuffed just above the elbow, hem hovering above your waist. You check yourself in the mirror, trying to ignore the lettering burning into your back.

When you step out, conversations stall. A few dancers glance over. One of the stylists lets out a low whistle. Then Hoseok turns, mid-discussion with a crew member, and his eyes land on you.

He freezes.

Then, slowly, he grins. Not the polite stage smile. The real one. The one that makes his eyes crinkle and your stomach twist in a way that has nothing to do with the jersey. You glance down, suddenly hyper-aware of just how much skin you’re showing, and the text stretched across your shoulder blades.

Still, the moment passes. The music starts. The show goes on. But the mood sticks with you. A little unsettled, a little unsure. You look amazing. The crowd will scream. The performance will be flawless.

So why do you feel so weird inside?

The lights dim. The roar of the Barclays Center swells around you like a wave, and the opening VCR flickers to life on the screens above the stage. You’re already in place, heart hammering in your chest, fingers twitching at your sides as you wait for the music to drop.

The crowd is louder tonight, maybe it’s the weekend energy, maybe it’s just New York. Maybe it’s the jersey.

Your jersey.

The one that reads HOPE’S GIRL in massive silver letters across your back.

You try to shake it off. Focus. Breathe. You know the routine inside and out, muscle memory will take over. But as the spotlight hits and the opening beats explode through the arena, you can’t help the flare of heat that climbs your neck when you and Hoseok hit your first mark center stage.

He’s already smirking when he looks at you.

You swear it’s a little cockier than usual.

The crowd loses it when he reaches for you during the duet section. His hand grazes your waist, right where the cropped jersey ends, and you hear the collective shriek ripple through the venue like a current. You don't falter, not even for a beat, but your pulse skitters. You wonder if he notices. (He does.)

The chemistry tonight is different. Tighter. Sharper. Every move is crisp, charged, laced with something just below the surface. Hoseok doesn’t break character once, but there’s something extra in the way he watches you, like he’s feeding off the crowd’s energy, and you're the spark.

At one point, he leans in for a choreographed moment—faces close, breaths shared—and you swear you catch him whispering, “They’re gonna riot.”

You almost laugh. Almost.

Instead, you snap into the next move, heart pounding, mind focused, eyes locked.

When the last beat hits and the lights go black, the arena erupts. It’s deafening. Screams echo through your bones as the two of you jog offstage, breathless and slick with sweat. You’re grinning, high on adrenaline, already tugging your in-ear out when Hoseok turns to you in the wings.

“You crushed that,” he says, still breathless. “That jersey…” He whistles, grinning. “Might have started a war.”

You roll your eyes, breath hitching on a laugh. “Don’t even.”

But he just flashes that infuriating smile again. “Hope’s girl, huh?”

You shove his shoulder, but your cheeks burn, and even as the crew moves around you resetting for the next set, he lingers a second longer, eyes lingering like he’s memorizing you all over again.

The show ends in a blur of lights and music, the crowd's cheers still ringing in your ears as you make your way backstage. Your body aches from the intense performance, sweat dripping down your back as you strip off the jersey, feeling the cool air hit your skin. You’re breathing hard, but there’s a high buzzing through you, an energy that doesn’t quite fade yet.

Yunjin is there in an instant, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Okay, first of all,” she starts, eyes wide, “what was that?! You were literally on fire tonight. You looked so hot, I almost couldn’t concentrate! Like, how does that even happen?”

You laugh, wiping your face with a towel. “It was just the jersey, Yunjin.”

“Just the jersey?” She places a hand over her heart dramatically. “You’re telling me you don’t know what you were doing out there? The way it clung to you, the way you moved, if I were in the crowd, I’d be screaming my head off. Hoseok probably had to be holding himself back from jumping off stage just to catch you.”

You try not to grin, but the thought makes your chest tighten. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I am not. Babe, I don’t even know how you stayed so calm. I was practically hyperventilating on the sidelines watching you. You’re like…a goddess.”

Before you can reply, the sound of footsteps clicks through the hallway, and you know who it is before you even turn around.

Mina and Sana.

“Well, well,” Sana says, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “look who’s enjoying the spotlight.”

Mina crosses her arms, eyes narrowing at the exposed skin of your stomach. “Must be nice. Wearing a jersey with ‘Hope’s Girl’ on it. Subtle.”

You don’t respond immediately, but you feel the tension creeping up your spine. Yunjin, however, isn’t having it.

“Really? That’s what you’re gonna focus on?” she shoots back, eyes flashing. “I think we all know the story behind the jersey, and it’s not like she went around asking for this attention.”

Sana smirks, a little too pleased with herself. “Sure, it’s just a scraped costume item. But only one of us got assigned that particular one, didn’t we?”

Mina’s gaze sharpens, her tone fake-sweet. “Yeah, just be careful. You might get too comfortable being everyone’s center of attention, those things don’t last long.”

Her words sting, but you keep your face neutral. You want to tell them to mind their business, but you hold back, not wanting to make a scene.

Yunjin steps closer, her voice low and cutting. “You guys are real classy, huh? Try not to be so obvious.”

Mina and Sana share a look before walking off, their footsteps echoing down the hall like a statement.

Yunjin exhales sharply, her fists clenched at her sides. “Seriously. Do they ever stop?”

You shrug, trying to shake it off. “Let them talk. They don’t get to decide what’s true.”

“Yeah, but damn, it’s hard not to hear them when they’re that loud,” Yunjin mutters, her eyes still on the retreating figures.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The next few stops of the U.S. leg flow like muscle memory. Rehearsals, shows, after-show hangouts in hotel rooms or wherever you can find food that late. Everyone slips into their own rhythms. Little cliques form, some loud and chaotic, some quieter and tired. You and Yunjin are the latter, always rooming together, always ending the night whispering half-asleep jokes under hotel comforters, letting the adrenaline of performance burn off slowly.

Hoseok is kind to everyone, but there’s something a little softer in how he treats you. Even when he’s obviously exhausted with dark circles under his eyes and a gravelly voice. He'll still toss you a grin in passing, a warm “good work today,” or a brief shoulder squeeze as he walks by. Nothing intense. Nothing you can’t explain away. But still, it lingers.

Mexico City feels different the moment the plane touches down.

The crowd is electric, louder than anything so far, and the setlist tonight gives the dancers a chance to shine, one particular number puts the girls front and center, a line of you holding onto each other’s hips, all sweat-slick skin and sharp movement, hip thrusts and rhythm pulsing through the floor.

You barely even register it when Mina’s fingers dig into your waist. Not at first.

But then she digs. Sharp nails through the thin fabric of your costume, pressing so hard it feels like they’re carving into you.

You flinch, barely, but your body keeps moving like it’s on autopilot. You smile, you hit every beat, you power through. There’s a camera somewhere. Fans screaming. You don’t miss a step. But when you hit the wings, adrenaline drops all at once, and the pain settles in.

You rush toward the wardrobe first thing, heart thudding in your chest. “Hey, do we—do we have any backup options?” you ask, trying to keep your voice level. “Like...something with more coverage?”

Thankfully, they do now. You swap out the crop top and slip into something looser. The scratches burn, but at least they’re not visible anymore.

You don’t think anyone noticed.

Later, the green room is quiet. Most of the dancers have drifted out, some heading to the hotel, others grabbing food or showering off the performance high. You stay behind to grab a hoodie from the top shelf of the wardrobe racks, reaching up on your toes.

The door creaks open behind you.

“Hey—” Hoseok’s voice cuts off. “Wait.”

You pause mid-reach, glancing over your shoulder.

He’s standing just inside the doorway, brow furrowed, eyes locked on your waist.

You look down.

Your shirt has ridden up just enough to show the angry red scratches along your skin, faint but clearly there. His expression shifts instantly, quiet concern turning sharp.

“What happened?” he asks, stepping closer.

You tug your shirt down quickly. “It’s nothing. Costume just rubbed me the wrong way.”

He gives you a look, one that says he doesn’t buy it for a second.

“Can I see?” he asks gently, his voice low, eyes searching yours.

You hesitate, then nod once, slowly lifting the hem of your shirt just enough to show the marks along your side.

His breath catches. “Jesus,” he mutters, kneeling slightly to get a closer look. “These are from nails.”

You lower your shirt again, already bracing.

“I have to tell management,” he says, voice calm but firm.

“No.” You shake your head. “Hoseok, please. You can’t.”

His jaw clenches. “She drew blood. You don’t do that by accident.”

“I know,” you say quietly. “But if you report her, she’ll know it came from me. She already hates me enough.”

“I don’t care if she hates you. She crossed a line.”

You look down, fists tightening at your sides. “And if she gets reprimanded? Cut? Then every girl on this tour is going to think I’m trying to get people fired just because I’m close to you.”

“You’re not close to me,” he says without thinking, then winces. “I mean—not like that. I just mean, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Exactly,” you say. “So don’t make it worse.”

There’s a long pause. His gaze softens a little, but the tension’s still there, tight in his shoulders.

“I won’t go to management,” he says finally. “But only if you swear to tell me if she touches you again.”

You nod slowly. “Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

He exhales through his nose, clearly still not thrilled, but lets it go, for now. Then, a little softer, “You didn’t even flinch out there. No one would’ve known.”

You offer a small shrug. “Didn’t want to mess up the show.”

Something flashes behind his eyes—pride, maybe. Or something warmer. He doesn’t say it out loud, but you can feel it settle between you.

“Still,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “you shouldn’t have to bleed for a stage.”

Back at the hotel, it’s just past midnight. You and Yunjin are in your room, both freshly showered, your hair still damp as you sit cross-legged on your bed scrolling through messages. She’s across from you, stretched out on her stomach and picking at a protein bar with barely-contained boredom.

“God, we should order fries or something,” she mumbles into her arms. “I know it’s late, but I’m still wired.”

You laugh softly, about to answer then you stretch.

Your shirt lifts just enough to reveal a faint red line on your side.

Yunjin sits up like she’s been electrocuted.

“What the hell is that?” Her voice is sharp, alarmed. She scrambles over the bed toward you, pushing your arm up before you can react. “Wait—is that a scratch? That’s blood.”

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, trying to pull your shirt down again. “Seriously.”

She isn’t having it. “Don’t lie to me. Who did that?”

You go quiet.

“Who.” Her voice drops into a dangerous whisper.

You sigh. “It happened during the performance. Mina. She dug her nails in during the line choreo.”

Yunjin is already off the bed.

“Absolutely not.” She’s halfway to the door, hair wild, grabbing her hoodie off the chair. “I’m going to drag her. I’ll knock on her door and rip her fake lashes off one by one—”

“Yunjin!” You scramble up, grabbing her wrist before she reaches the handle. “Please. Don’t.”

“Are you serious right now? She injured you in the middle of a live performance!”

“I know. But if you storm down there, it just gives her what she wants. More drama. More fuel.”

Her jaw clenches so hard you can see the muscle twitch. “She wants you humiliated. She’s been whispering garbage since Seoul and now she’s physically hurting you? And you’re the one worried about drama?”

You squeeze her wrist gently. “I’m tired. You’re tired. Just…let it go. For now.”

Yunjin glares at the door like she’s imagining it’s Mina’s face, but finally, finally, she exhales sharply and slumps back against the wall.

“I swear,” she mutters, “if she so much as breathes in your direction wrong again, I’m not stopping at lashes. I’m coming for her extensions too.”

You smile faintly, despite the sting in your side. “Noted.”

She walks back to you and flops down beside you again, grumbling under her breath, “Next tour, we’re getting roommate requests and I’m making sure we’re in a different hotel wing.”

You laugh. “You’d miss me.”

“Shut up and order the fries.”

You reach for your phone. The tension still lingers in the air, but it’s easier now, the weight of it softened by the person next to you who’s always ready to go to war, no matter how small the battlefield.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The fries are gone, Yunjin is out cold, and the hotel room feels too warm, too cramped with everything that happened still buzzing in your head. You need to get out of here.

You slip on a hoodie, grab your keycard, and make your way up to the rooftop lounge. It’s quiet at this hour, just past 2 a.m., and the Mexico City skyline stretches around you, lights glittering in the distance like stars fallen to earth. You sit down on one of the loungers, tucking your knees up to your chest, letting the night air cool your skin and settle your thoughts.

You don’t expect anyone else to come up.

Which is why your heart jumps a little when the rooftop door creaks open.

Hoseok steps out, hoodie pulled low, hair damp like he just showered. He spots you immediately and pauses, his expression unreadable for a second before he walks over.

“I figured I’d find you up here,” he says softly.

You give a small smile. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah,” he nods, settling into the lounger beside yours. “Me neither.”

There’s a brief silence, comfortable, somehow. Then he turns his head to look at you, eyes catching faint light from the city below.

“How’s your side?”

You blink, still surprised that he seems to care. “It’s fine.”

“Can I see?”

You hesitate for half a second, then pull the hoodie up just enough to show the bandage, a thin sliver of red peeking out underneath.

His jaw tenses.

“She really did that during the choreo?” He asks again, like he can’t believe that it was true the first time you had this conversation.

You nod. “It wasn’t that deep. Just enough to be petty.”

He exhales slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. “You didn’t even flinch on stage.”

“Can’t flinch when there’s seventeen thousand people watching.”

He shakes his head. “You’re tougher than most people I know.”

You snort, trying to brush it off. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” he says. “You don’t complain. You just keep working.”

You glance over at him, a little startled by the quiet sincerity in his voice.

“You notice that?”

He looks at you, the edges of his mouth quirking up. “I notice everything.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hide the heat creeping up your neck. “Smooth.”

“I’m not trying to be smooth,” he says, laughing now. “If I was, I’d say something like you danced so well tonight I almost missed my cue.”

You giggle despite yourself. “That’s terrible.”

“Right? I knew it,” he grins, then leans back against the lounger, staring at the sky. “You know, people ask me the same questions in interviews. Favorite food, dream collaborations, stuff like that. But no one ever asks the weird stuff.”

“Weird stuff like what?”

He hums, making his thinking face where he looks up. “Like the first time I ever forgot choreography on stage. Or the first time I realized I liked dancing more than rapping.”

“You forgot choreo?” you ask, eyes wide.

He groans. “Yes! 2016 we were in Osaka. I completely blanked. I played it off, but I wanted to die. I still think about it sometimes when I’m in the shower.”

You laugh, and it feels easy, light in a way you haven’t felt since this tour started.

“You ever think about quitting?” you ask, quieter now.

“Yeah,” he says. “Twice, but I didn’t. I stayed. And then…people like you came along. Reminded me why I loved this in the first place.”

You’re stunned into silence for a beat, and he just smiles, leaning back again like he didn’t just drop a weight into your chest.

The air shifts, warmer now. More charged.

You stay up there with him until the sky starts to tint pink at the edges, trading quiet stories and silly jokes and tiny truths you’re not sure either of you mean to share, but don’t regret. Not even a little.

You and Hoseok sneak in your naps earlier in the day, quick, quiet moments of rest that leave you both looser and lighter. You haven’t spoken since the night before, but when your eyes meet across the green room as everyone starts getting into costume, there’s something wordless exchanged. A kind of mutual grounding.

When it’s time to run the show, everything clicks into place. Mina’s been shifted out of your proximity in all the formations. She’s still there, but now her energy can’t touch you. You don’t have to brace yourself. You can just dance, and you do.

The crowd is louder than night one. They are wild, alive, feeding you energy from the second you step out. Every cheer feels like it’s vibrating in your bones. Your body moves like it’s never known hesitation, hitting every count with precision and power. Every hair toss, every hip hit, every spin. You’re on fire.

The numbers flow one into the next, and soon enough, you’re side-stage again, waiting for the duet. Everyone else clusters on the other side, but Hoseok finds you right where he did the night before. You’re both smiling this time.

“Better night?” he asks with a little raise of his brows, already knowing the answer.

“The best,” you say, and you mean it.

He steps in close, just like yesterday, but there’s no hesitation now, only warmth. His hands come to your face again, thumbs brushing the tops of your cheeks as he leans in until your foreheads touch.

“You were glowing out there,” he says, voice low and playful. “Like, full-on radiant. Crowd’s obsessed.”

You laugh, heart hammering in your chest. “Pretty sure they’re obsessed with you.”

“Nah,” he grins. “Tonight, they’re yours.”

It sends something giddy fluttering in your stomach. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again. “Let’s go own this. I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you too,” you say, and you’re both smiling like you’re about to get away with something.

The cue hits. The lights flare, and then you're dancing together.

This time, everything is free and full. Hoseok’s energy wraps around you, not protective, not careful, just completely in sync. Hoseok dances with the kind of presence that makes people forget to blink. He still avoids the spot where your cut is healing, but it doesn’t feel like he’s pulling back. It feels like he knows you. Like you’ve built something real in all those hours of rehearsal, tension, and trust.

When the duet ends, the crowd goes wild, and as you hold the final pose beside him, Hoseok glances your way with that same dazzling smile. Only now, there’s something a little different in his eyes. Pride. Mischief. Maybe even a spark of something more.

You feel unstoppable.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The post-show adrenaline lingers like glitter on skin. The performance high, the crowd’s roar, the perfect execution, it’s all still pulsing through your veins as you sit with the other dancers and crew at a lively restaurant tucked into a buzzing neighborhood just beyond the venue. The energy’s infectious. Laughter pours from every table, drinks clink, and someone orders another round before you can blink.

Hoseok shows up a little after the rest of you, wearing a baseball cap and a plain white tee, the kind of casual that still somehow makes heads turn. He slides into the seat beside Yunjin, across from you, and when your eyes meet over the rim of your glass, you can’t help the quiet smile that rises.

He toasts you later with a simple, “To killing it two nights in a row.”

Eventually, most of the dancers rally into a louder crowd, talking bar hopping, clubs, “just one more,” and “we’re in Mexico, come on!” But you, comfortably buzzed and warm from the tequila and laughter, decide to head back. Yunjin stays behind, swept into the tide, and you’re happy for her.

Back at the hotel, you take your time. A long, hot shower. Moisturizer. Your favorite oversized tee and soft shorts. Then you pad barefoot down the hallway with a hotel-bar cocktail in hand and head for the rooftop lounge.

The air is cool but gentle, and the view stretches out like a glittering painting. You settle on a lounger, legs tucked under you, drink cradled in both hands as you sip slowly and let yourself feel everything. The ache in your muscles. The thrum of triumph. How far you’ve come.

And then—

“Thought I might find you up here.”

You look over your shoulder. Hoseok steps out onto the rooftop, holding a drink of his own, something dark and neat in a short glass.

He’s changed, too. Into joggers and a hoodie, hair still a little damp from his own shower. He looks tired, but content. You wave him over.

He settles beside you on the same lounger, close but not crowded, and for a while, you just… talk. About nothing. About everything. About how wild this whole thing is: the tour, dancing, fans screaming your name.

And then a song starts playing through the rooftop speakers. Something upbeat and groovy, with a smooth, bouncing rhythm that makes your shoulders sway almost instinctively.

You glance at him.

“Dance with me.”

He chuckles. “Right now?”

You stand, offer your hand. “It’s tradition now, isn’t it?”

Hoseok hesitates for half a second before taking your hand and rising to his feet. “Alright, tradition.”

The two of you fall into rhythm easily, bare feet sliding over the rooftop tile. It’s loose, playful. No choreography, no mirrors. Just movement. Just you and him. You laugh when he tries a silly body roll and laugh even harder when he copies your spin with exaggerated flair.

One song blends into the next, and somewhere along the way, it shifts. You’re still laughing, still dancing, but the space between you shrinks. His hands linger longer. Your breath comes quicker.

Then he twirls you.

Your back presses gently to his chest, one arm wrapped around your waist. He turns you again, catches your hand in his, and dips you.

Time stops. You’re suspended in the moment, his arm strong around your back, your hand resting on his shoulder, and he looks at your lips.

Then, almost guiltily, his eyes flick away. Up, off to the side.

You look at his lips. Then back up at his eyes and you nod. Just once.

He kisses you.

One hand cradles the small of your back, holding you in place as the other comes to your jaw, tilting your chin up just right. The kiss is warm, slow, exploratory. His lips move like he’s learning the shape of you, like he’s been waiting for this longer than he realized. Your heart is slamming against your chest trying to understand what is going on. The kiss ends gently, like a breath, but the moment it does, Hoseok steps back like he’s just come to his senses.

“I—I shouldn’t have done that,” he blurts, voice hushed and panicked. His hand flies up, fingers brushing his mouth like the kiss might still be there. “God, I’m so sorry. That was…totally unprofessional. You’re my dancer. I wasn’t thinking. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

You blink, still half-drunk on the feeling of his lips against yours, your body still tingling from where he touched you.

“I mean—” he keeps going, running a hand through his hair. “You’re just… you’re so pretty. You’re funny, and smart, and you’ve been killing it every single night and then tonight you looked at me like that and I just—” He breaks off with a frustrated groan. “Shit. I let my feelings get ahead of me. I shouldn’t have—God, I’m sorry.”

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. Your thoughts are moving like molasses. You’re trying to process what just happened, what he’s saying, how this spiraled so fast from soft rooftop magic to this flurry of regret.

“I just don’t want to make things weird for you,” Hoseok says, already backing away, voice rough with self-recrimination. “You’ve worked so hard to be here and this is your moment to prove yourself. I don’t want to mess it up because I can’t control myself—”

“Hoseok—”

But he keeps rambling, barely hearing you. “Seriously, just forget I did that, okay? I’ll keep everything professional from here on out. You don’t need to worry about me, I swear.”

And before you can even figure out how you feel or how to respond, he’s turning to leave.

“Hobi—” You yell desperately. “Wait!”

He freezes. You’ve never called him that before. His favorite nickname hangs between you delicate and real. He turns just slightly, looking over his shoulder, eyes wide and searching. Now it’s your turn to be breathless.

You take a deep breath, gathering whatever courage you have left. The tension is thick, the air crackling between you both. You step closer, your voice barely above a whisper but carrying every ounce of confidence you’re trying to muster.

“If they’re going to whisper about me anyway,” you start, “might as well make it true.”

Before he can react, you reach out, catching his wrist in your hand, turning him back toward you. His eyes flash with a mix of surprise and something deeper, but before he can say anything more, you lean in, kissing him again.

This time, he doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t pull away. He melts into it, his lips soft against yours, his breath steadying as he lets the moment wash over him. You can feel the tension leave his body, how he’s relaxing into you, like he’s been holding it all in for far too long.

You tug on the excess fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, your chest pressing against his. You feel the heat between you, the softness of his body as he leans in further, his hands moving to your back, tracing the curve of your spine. The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, the world outside disappearing as the music plays softly in the background.

For a moment, there’s no tour, no pressure, no expectations. Just you and him, and everything feels right. When you finally pull back, your breath mingling in the air between you, Hoseok’s eyes are dark, lips parted as if he’s trying to catch his breath.

“You sure about this?” he asks, his voice quiet but filled with the same uncertainty he had before.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “If they’re gonna talk anyway…might as well give them something to really talk about.”

Hoseok chuckles, low and breathless, before pulling you in for another kiss. This time, it’s full of quiet promises, no words needed. The rest of the world can wait.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The morning after, sunlight creeps in through the curtains, warm and golden across your sheets, but it doesn't soften the twist in your chest. You wake up slower than usual, almost like you’re trying to delay facing reality. There's no knock at your door. No message. No sign that anything happened last night at all.

You see him in the hallway a little later, just outside the elevators. You weren’t expecting it, so your smile catches you off guard before you can stop it. He’s walking with a couple of stylists, laughing at something someone says. His eyes pass over you like you’re a stranger.

Not even a nod. It stings more than you'd like to admit.

Back in your room, Yunjin is packing up her things, humming softly to herself.

“You sure you don’t wanna come with us today?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder. “San Antonio’s got good food and my college friend’s letting a few of us crash at their place.”

You give her a half-hearted smile and shake your head. “I think I’ll stay behind a little. Be a tourist for a day. Last chance and all.”

“Your loss,” she teases lightly, dragging her suitcase toward the door. “Don’t forget sunscreen.”

She doesn’t press further. She doesn’t notice anything is wrong. No one does. You’re still smiling. Still functioning.

Just…quieter.

You spend the day wandering through the city, letting the sun soak into your skin and the colors of Mexico City blur into a kaleidoscope. You try mezcal at a street-side bar, buy a handmade bracelet from a vendor who compliments your earrings, and stand still in front of a cathedral until the bells chime and make your chest ache.

Hoseok stares at his phone like it might answer all the questions for him.

It doesn’t.

It just glows with the time. Too early for this kind of spiral, too late to sleep it off. He rubs a hand over his face and sighs, reaching for the only contact that might give him something useful.

He hits call. It rings three times before Jin answers, voice still thick with sleep.

“Hyung,” Hoseok says before Jin can even get a proper greeting out. “I messed up.”

Jin groans. “Hello to you too. What did you do?”

“I kissed her.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Who—wait. Her her? YN?”

“Yes.” It’s almost as if Hoseok can hear is hyung silenting judging him.

“Well damn,” Jin says, a little more awake now. “That’s…unexpected, and kind of bold. How’d it go?”

“She kissed me back. It wasn’t like—I don’t know. I didn’t plan it. It just happened and now I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“That checks out,” Jin mutters. “You’ve had a crush on her for a while, haven’t you?”

Hoseok winces. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to anyone with eyes.”

He groans again, collapsing back onto the bed and staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t think I’d actually do anything about it.”

“And yet here we are.”

There’s a pause.

“I don’t even have her number,” Hoseok admits, his voice small. “I thought about asking someone on staff, but that feels…I don’t know. Weird?”

Jin snorts. “Yeah, kind of creepy. Don't do that.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you get her number last night?”

“I was distracted. I didn’t think—there was this moment, and it felt like everything in the world narrowed to just her, and then it was over.”

“Well,” Jin says, “it’s not over if you don’t let it be.”

“I saw her in the hallway this morning. She smiled at me. I didn’t smile back.”

Jin groans. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

“I panicked!” Hoseok snaps. “I don’t know what she’s thinking, and I don’t want her to regret it. I’m her boss. I should’ve never—”

“You already did,” Jin cuts in, firm now. “So the whole ‘I shouldn’t have’ ship? It’s sailed, capsized, and sunk to the bottom of the ocean.”

“Thanks for the imagery.”

Jin huffs a laugh. “Look, I get that this is complicated. But you’re allowed to feel things, Hobi. You’re allowed to want something good. If you’re serious about her—really serious—then don’t let protocol be the reason you ruin it.”

Hoseok is quiet for a long time. He watches a crack of sunlight stretch across the floor of his hotel room and thinks about how your smile looked under stage lights. He thinks about how he made you feel like you weren’t alone in it.

“…I am serious,” he says quietly.

“Then find a way to show her.”

🧡part 2🧡

#suck it #bts fanfic #jung hoseok #jung hoseok fic #hoseok fic #hoseok smut #jhope fic #jhope smut #jhope x reader #jhope x you #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fic #kpop fic #kpop smut #bts smut

575 notes · View notes

cheeseceli · 2 months ago

Text

Boyfriend Hobi

Pairing: Jung Hoseok × gn!reader

Genre: headcanons, fluff

Request: boyfriend hobi, perchance?!

Warnings: physical touch, mentions of food, he's an idol, mentions of fights

A/n: this one's a bit long I think lmao | daily click

Hobi ver. | Jimin ver. | Taehyung ver. | Jungkook ver.

This was probably a best friends to lovers thing

It took him a while to make a move because he was scared to mess up the relationship

So either you make the first move or you'll have to be very patient 😭

Oh this one is strong on physical touch btw

He likes to cuddle, he will always save a seat for you next to him, random hugs just because

And he will never let go of your hand

Trust me on this one

If you're walking around, better believe he WILL be holding your hand

And he also hugs you when you're cold to warm you up 🙂‍↕️

Your opinion is EXTREMELY important to him

Both on trivial matters, like what hat he should wear, and on more important things, like his job

You always receive spoilers to the tracks he's producing as well

Partner privileges

Talking about partner privileges

He takes such care of you

Always make sure you ate enough and on time

Drives you to your work/uni and then drives you home after

Insists on you taking an extra coat on cold days

Even massages you when you're too stressed or when you had a particularly rough day

Also loves to send you texts and voice messages throughout the day

If you can't see each other that day, he's gonna make sure to document EVERYTHING to you

He loves to have you near, even when it's not physically possible

He also smiles mid kiss 💔

He perceives everything as well

You're currently obsessed with a new series? He's already sending you videos about that

You're feeling kinda down? He is comforting you before you can barely understand what you're feeling

You want to go to some place? He's already cleaning his schedule so you can go asap

He's so observant

And if you're talking, his eyes are on you

The type of guy to put his full attention on you

He's a perfectionist, nothing new here

So if you guys ever fought it would probably be because of these details

And because he wanted the relationship to be so perfect, there would probably be a bit of accidental self sabotage

But with time this gets better

He also needs a bit of validation

I don't think he'd be very jealous (considering the perilla leaf debate)

But some validation is still nice lmao

Trusts you with his life

You know every single secret of his

You know where every precious possession of his is, and you can use all of them

You're his emergency call

He genuinely trusts you a lot

He's not jealous, but he is protective

If he senses you're feeling uncomfortable, he will step up with no hesitation

Sidewalk rule

He loves your smile

He has 649264 pictures of you smiling

And most of these pictures were taken secretly, when you were too focused on just enjoying life to notice the camera

Idk he also seems like he would want to have matching items with you

If English/Korean are not your mother tongue, he would LOVE to learn your language

He would learn a few words and suddenly that's all he's saying for the rest of the week

Overall, he's your safe place and you're his

He is your personal sunshine: cheer you up on sad days and make happy days even brighter

Confidents of each other

It would be a dream, honestly

Masterlist | you'll probably like: Fri(end)s

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

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @butnotmontana @sheraayasherrecs

Dividers by @adornedwithlight | images 1, 2 and 3

493 notes · View notes

luciathcv · 5 months ago

Text

christmas season - jjk

summary: jungkook and you are decorating for christmas with your new baby || warnings: none || genre: fluff, established relationship, parenthood au, dad!jungkook. christmas fic || word count: approximately ? || a/n: would you guys be against me changing the baby's name for the au or....

You sat on the couch with your baby, Blair, in a living room filled with boxes of Christmas decorations as you watched Jungkook set up the Christmas tree you'd just gotten. It was the first year you'd both gotten a real tree for the house instead of a fake one, so he was figuring out how to set it up. It took more time than just putting together a fake tree.

He finished by fluffing the tree up after pouring the water in before standing back and looking over at Blair and you.

"You see how good I am to your mom, Blair? Doing all this for her because she wanted it." He lightly said teasingly to the baby in your lap who obviously didn't understand what he was saying. He looked over at you with a smile. Jungkook honestly didn't mind doing stuff like this, in fact, it was something he enjoyed. If it made you happy, he was happy.

Jungkook then went over to one of the boxes and pulled out the star for the top of the tree. "You want Blair to do it?" He suggested as he walked over to the two of you.

"Yeah." You smiled. He gently took Blair into his arms as you got up and all walked to the Christmas tree. He handed the star to Blair and held her up. You watched with a wide smile as your daughter struggled to put the star on the tree. Jungkook noticed as well so he guided her hand to properly put it on the tree before pulling her hand away in a gentle manner.

"Yay!" You enthusiastically say to Blair, making her smile at your excitement. Jungkook smiled as he brought Blair down, holding her normally.

"You want to put her in the swing so we can decorate?" Jungkook asked and you nodded.

"Okay." You smile as you take her and bring her over to the swing, softly putting her in it as you buckle her up and Jungkook watches you with a smile, his heart warming at the sight.

You walked back over, bringing a box of ornaments over with you as you put them down. You then started to go through the ornaments, deciding which ones you should put up first.

"Let's just put the balls up first, then we can do the fun ones." You say, glancing up at him.

"Sure, baby." Jungkook agreed as he watched you grab two balls and hand them to him before grabbing two for yourself.

The two of you started decorating the tree, though you definitely seemed to be more into it, besides the glances you'd give to your baby every once in a while who seemed to be drifting off.

You ended up being the one to put up the last ornament as Jungkook finished putting the stockings up. He came up behind you and kissed your neck. You shivered, making him chuckle against you, as you turned to face him.

"You having fun?" Jungkook asked.

"Yeah." You nodded. "So much fun." You truthfully say.

"Good." Jungkook smiled. "I already know this Christmas is going to be the best because I have both my favorite girls in the world." He sweetly said before leaning down and kissing you lovingly.

ᥫ᭡ link to my masterlist

423 notes · View notes

ninetailedfoxmanchi · 6 months ago

Text

Mafia! BTS - They Want to Spoil You

Warnings: /

A/N: They realize you're not well-off or are even struggling financially and that makes them want to take care of you even more. Per popular request <3.

MASTERLIST

Jin

Jin was already lying in bed when you got out of the bathroom. You grabbed your pyjamas from your bag as he watched you change.

"Oh no ..." you mumbled when you saw that the seams in your side tore and left a gap in your top. "Can I borrow a t-shirt?" you asked as you turned to your boyfriend but you already knew the answer. You were beginning to suspect too that Jin even preferred it if you wore his clothes.

"Do you need new pyjamas?"

"No, I'll just sew this up and they'll be like new again," you told as you grabbed Jin's t-shirt from one of the dressers.

"Just get a new pair," said Jin as he sat leaning against his pillow.

"I can already barely get through the month, I can't just buy new clothes whenever there's a tear in them," you laughed as you pulled on Jin's white t-shirt. You climbed into the bed but your smile faded when you saw Jin frowning.

"Are you okay?" you asked gently and scooted closer to him.

"You barely get through the month?" asked Jin seriously. Your mouth parted and your face went blank. Your cheeks turned pink as you thought about how much less you earned compared to Jin. You had made your peace with it already when you two began dating but the difference between your incomes and savings never crossed Jin's mind.

"It's not that bad," you smiled and tried to reassure your boyfriend. "I have a beginner's salary, it's normal."

"It's not normal if you're struggling," said Jin sternly as he sat up straight and his hand cupped your cheek. "Let me take care of you." He frowned even worse.

"You don't have to take care of me, Jin, I'm fine, really," you insisted although the past few months have been really tight for you financially. Your rent took most of the money whilst you were staying at Jin's place the majority of the nights. Then there was the food and the bills, the everyday things and the public transport. Your phone was so battered that the screen had began to flicker a couple of weeks ago.

A look so determined filled Jin's eyes that it began to worry you a little.

"Please don't think about it anymore, Jinnie," you begged as you took his cheeks and kissed him. He struggled to respond at first, his mind in a storm, but he couldn't resist your soft lips.

The next day when you woke up, you reached for the nightstand blindly to check the time on your phone but you couldn't find it. You rose your head and frowned when your phone was nowhere to be seen.

"Have you seen my phone?" you mumbled sleepily when you came into the living area, finding Jin already dressed in another one of his perfect outfits. It must have been late in the morning judging by the daylight if not close to noon. Jin liked to sleep in as well but not that day. He had been up since early morning.

"Here you go, princess," said Jin as he handed you a phone.

"This isn't my phone?" you asked confused and tried to give it back to Jin. It seemed brand new so you figured he changed his.

"It's your phone," insisted Jin, his eyes still filled with the same unbending look as the night before. You frowned and tapped the screen. The background was the same as on your phone, the contacts and the apps, everything was the same but the machine itself.

You looked up and finally noticed the dozens of bags lying around on the sofa and the coffee table.

"What's all this?" you breathed, your frown only deepening.

"You bought this for yourself, princess," said Jin as he took your free hand and placed a black card in your palm.

"N-No, I didn't," you backed away but tried to give the card back to Jin at the same time. He didn't even look at your hand.

"Jin, please," you begged when you realized what he was doing. "I don't need any of this—"

"Y/N," warned Jin when he turned to you. "Not another word." His hands caressed your neck gently before they moved up to your jaw and made you look up at him. He leaned in slowly and kissed you, silencing any protests that might want to come out of your mouth.

"I'll know if you won't use the card, Y/N," he cautioned against your lips, sending shivers down your spine, but you only wanted another kiss. Jin backed away when you searched for his plush lips again. You opened your eyes, seeing the stern look on Jin's handsome face.

"Just let me take care of you, princess," he spoke quietly, his chest vibrating with the deepness of his voice. You nodded weakly, folding at the prospect of Jin's affection. True to your presumptions, he rewarded you with another tender kiss.

Namjoon

You found your boyfriend sitting on the sofa, checking something on his laptop when you took a seat beside him.

"Are you busy?" you asked quietly, not wanting to disturb him.

"No, it's just some stupid emails," said Namjoon absently, his eyes scanning through the unnecessarily long blocks of text. "What is it, baby?"

"I was just ... I was wondering if ..." You cleared your throat as you squeezed your hands nervously. "If you could maybe lend me some money," you asked with difficulty. Your cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment when Namjoon tore his gaze from his laptop and looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing into a heavy frown.

"I'd pay you back everything," you said quickly. "It's just for rent—"

"What do you mean you'd pay me back?" asked Namjoon sternly, a tempest of thoughts behind his dark irises.

"I'll get my paycheck next week and I'll pay you back every cent, I promise," you explained although the demanding look on his features gave you little hope. His pensive eyes studied your face wordlessly. "It's okay if you don't want to, I'll ask my mom—"

"For rent?" Namjoon cut you off. His frown only grew deeper as he struggled to understand what you were asking.

"It's okay, I shouldn't have asked; I know it's weird," you said quickly and took Namjoon's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You tried to get up but he caught your wrist and pulled you back down.

"How much do you make?" demanded Namjoon. His voice was gentle but no less inquisitive. Your face went blank as more heat rose to your face. You didn't even make a hundredth of what Namjoon was bringing in in your first job as a beginner with no position.

"You know I don't make as much as you do," you swallowed. Even though your answer gave little information, Namjoon realized for the first time since you began dating that you might be financially unstable. He knew what you did and you liked your job but since money was never an issue for him, he never considered it might be an issue for you.

"I'll take care of it," nodded Namjoon and smoothed his thumb gently across your cheek before he got up.

"Take care of what?" you asked wide-eyed as you stared up at him. "Namjoon, I just need—"

"I'll take care of it," repeated Namjoon and gave your forehead a kiss as he buttoned his suit jacket. He grabbed his phone and his wallet and made for the door.

"Namjoon," you called again but he was adamant and gone.

A few hours later, you were looking through the fridge to think of some ideas for dinner when Namjoon came back. He set down a brown folder on the kitchen isle with a credit card on top of it before he pulled off his jacket and came to you for a kiss. You closed the fridge blindly as you responded to his lips but your mind was on the folder.

"What's this?" you asked as you removed the card from the brown paper and opened the file. It was a title deed with your name on it as part of a property transfer. The apartment in question was your rental paid in full and written in your name. Your eyebrows gathered into a frown as your mouth parted and your stomach gave a nervous squeeze.

"I told you I'd take care of it," said Namjoon easily and grabbed some orange juice from the fridge. You stared at him, your frown as deep as ever.

"You bought my apartment?" you asked astounded.

"No, you bought your apartment," said Namjoon as he drank the cold juice from a crystal glass. His fingers sat down on top of the dark credit card and he pushed it towards you. The letters of your name were engraved on the luxurious-painted plastic.

"Are you insane?" you blurted, your chest riddled with guilt. You were used to working hard for everything you had and hated accepting things from others. Even birthday gifts if too extravagant made you uncomfortable.

"I can't accept this, I won't accept this, Namjoon," you insisted although you could see it on his face that you were shouting in deaf ears. Your boyfriend was one of the most intransigent people in the world and when he decided on something there was no changing his mind.

"It's yours," said Namjoon nonchalantly, "Whether you like it or not."

Your eyes flinched in the direction of the crackling fireplace as you held the folder in your hands. Namjoon followed your gaze and smiled with amusement.

"I have a digital copy, baby," said Namjoon as he came closer to you. "The apartment is yours and so is the card." His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you to him, his forehead almost leaning against yours whilst you stared up at him.

"I'll know if you won't spend anything," he purred a warning and came even closer. "And I won't like it if you don't spend anything." His deep voice gave you goosebumps as your eyes flicked down to his plush lips.

"I want to spoil you, baby," said Namjoon against your soft mouth. "You should let me." He closed the space between your lips and kissed you deeply enough for the folder to fall from your hands as he pulled your waist to his hips.

Yoongi

"Fuck ..." you mumbled under your breath as you scrolled through the bills on your email, your back against the foot of the sofa and your laptop on the coffee table. Your stomach was in a tight knot. You tried to calculate the priorities but even that surpassed the amount that was left on your bank account from your last paycheck.

"What is it?" asked Yoongi as he sat on the sofa behind you, his legs on each side of your frame when he kissed the top of your head.

"Nothing," you whispered and closed your laptop quickly. You looked up and gratefully responded to Yoongi kissing your lips. His hand was caressing your neck gently, the cold rings on his long fingers giving you goosebumps as they made contact with your warm skin.

"You sure?" asked Yoongi when he pulled away a little. You set your eyes forward again and bit your lip as you nodded. Yoongi's hand glided around your neck and pushed back your soft hair as he began to run his fingers through it. You leaned your head against the sofa and closed your eyes.

"Tell me what's wrong," said Yoongi. His voice was deep and quiet but no less authoritative.

"Nothing's wrong," you insisted as you shook your head a little. Yoongi frowned more and more with each second. You didn't even have to open your eyes to see his expression. You knew that he knew that you were hiding something.

"You don't trust me anymore, jagi?" asked Yoongi. His hand came down to your cheek and caressed you gently. Your eyes opened at those words and you turned around to look at him.

"Of course I trust you," you spoke feverishly.

"Why won't you talk to me then?" said Yoongi as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.

"Because it's nothing," you lied. "And you'll worry and think that you have to fix it."

"Fix what?" pressed Yoongi. You groaned desperately and buried your face into the sofa. Yoongi seized the opportunity and opened your laptop behind your back, his eyes scanning over the bills.

"No, wait—" you tried to close the laptop when you noticed what he was doing but it was already too late. He saw everything.

"Yoongi, don't do anything," you begged as you got up to your knees and cupped his face. The look in his eyes was as hard and unmoving as a mountain and your words fell on deaf ears. He pulled the wallet from his back pocket and slid out a slick black credit card.

"Here you go, kitten, happy anniversary," said Yoongi as he offered you the card. You stood up with a frown.

"Our anniversary won't be for three months," you protested although that was far from Yoongi's point or yours for that matter. He stood up as well, took your hand and wrapped your fingers around his card.

"You can give me that card all you want but I won't spend a dime," you insisted. Yoongi turned to you slowly and took a good look at you. His eyes made your stomach dance with butterflies and fireworks.

"Fine," said Yoongi as he came closer to you. "Then I'll make you." His voice send shivers down your spine as he towered over you. He took your hand and you had no choice but to follow him. He drove you half-way across town until you arrived to a large glass building.

"Why are we here?" you questioned when Yoongi opened the car door for you. "Please, let's just go home." You took your boyfriend's hand but he wasn't paying your tugs no mind.

"Yoongi," you gasped under your breath and squeezed his hand tightly when he led you inside the Cartier boutique. It was too late to leave without causing a scene in front of the elegant saleswomen.

"Mr Min," said the older one of the two with her hair in a neat bun. "We're so happy to see you're back. It's been too long," smiled the other lady and took in the sight of you, giving you a warm smile as well.

"We have a very special thing for you," said the older lady and disappeared in the back.

"Yoongi," you pleaded in a whisper as you tugged on his hand a little but his fingers were tightly intertwined with yours. Yoongi looked down into your eyes, defeating you in an instance.

"This is one of our rarest and most sought after items, Mr Min," purred the older saleslady. She placed a beautiful red box on the glass counter before you and opened it with care. "This is out Panthere Maillon Etrier necklace in 18 carat white gold. It's distinguished for its geometric shape with the center of the necklace set with brilliant cut diamonds around 2,15 carats."

Your lips parted as your face went blank in the face of the exquisite piece of jewellery. You had never even stood in a jewellery shop, much less in Cartier itself. Yoongi observed your reaction for a while before he nodded to the saleslady.

"Very good," she smiled and motioned to her assistant to take care of the payment.

You realized that the purchase was agreed to and looked up at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

"Please," said the younger saleslady when she gestured elegantly at the payment terminal. Your gaze shifted between her, the astronomical number on the screen and Yoongi.

"Your card, kitten," said Yoongi as he stared down at you. You were still clutching to the black piece of plastic in your clammy hand. You swallowed before you inched the card closer to the terminal until it made a sound of approval.

"See? It's not that hard," purred Yoongi in your ear as his arm wrapped around your waist. You turned to him, your lips only inches apart. "You can use it for other things now too, kitten, and I'll know if you won't," he spoke quietly, his hot breath teasing your mouth as he slowly closed the space between you and kissed you greedily.

Hoseok

Although you have been dating Hoseok for a while now, you were never very comfortable talking about money with him. You grew up poor and even though you were just starting your first job now, you still struggled quite a lot. You didn't mind that Hoseok made a lot of money, you accepted that right in the beginning of your relationship, but you never wanted to talk about your situation because of that. Yet when you had a glass of wine too much with your dinner last week, you told Hoseok about your upbringing and how the notion of always having to save money was still rooted deep inside of you.

You shouldn't have said anything, though, because once Hoseok found out about it, he began to shower you with gifts every single day. You didn't mind him paying for meals when you went out but the gifts he was giving you now weren't anything short of luxurious.

"Hobi, I swear if you get me another thing—" you threatened when you saw the timeless Hermès Kelly on your nightstand. Your stomach twisted into knots just at the idea of how much it must have cost.

When you turned around with your index pointed at Hoseok, he was standing so close to you that the wind was knocked out of you. Your lips parted as Hobi towered over you.

"Or what?" he asked with an amused smile resting on his lips and in his dark eyes. You were at a loss for words. "Or what, kitten?" he asked again, taking another half a step closer to you and closed the space between your bodies.

"You should look what's inside, baby," Hoseok encouraged, enjoying every moment of seeing the puzzled and flushed look on your face.

You looked inside the leather bag hesitantly and found a creamy white jewellery box inside. It was already clutched in your fingers before you let it go and took a step back, your hands hugging your elbows as the corners of your eyebrows pulled downwards.

"I don't want it, you spoke weakly as Hoseok frowned at your reaction.

"You haven't even looked at it," said Hoseok but you shook your head and backed away some more.

"I don't want it - I didn't earn it and I sure as hell don't deserve it," you tried to leave the bedroom but Hoseok caught your wrist.

"Y/N," he called as he cupped your neck just beneath your jaw and made you look up at him but you were avoiding his eyes. "Y/N," Hoseok warned again and you looked at him. His frown softened when he saw the sad look on your face.

"That's the least of what you deserve, baby." He brushed his thumbs along the gentle line of your jaw. "Stop fighting me and let me take care of you." Hoseok leaned his forehead against yours, his closeness calming down your anxiety immediately. Your arms found their way around his sides as you came closer, pressing your cheek against his chest.

"It's okay, baby, you'll get used to it," Hoseok spoke gently against your hair before he kissed the top of your head, his hands caressing your back.

"Wear it to the opera tonight, baby," he said after a while. "Will you wear it for me, kitten?" Hoseok cupped your cheeks again and made you look up at him. You nodded a little. He smiled and leaned in, his thumbs caressing your soft skin as he kissed you tenderly.

When you finally found the courage to come near the bag and the jewellery box again, you were already wearing your evening dress. You opened the delicate velvet box and found a pearl necklace in 18 carat yellow gold. The letters Mikimoto were engraved in the satin interior of the box.

"Do you like it?" smiled Hoseok as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist before he pressed a soft kiss on your bare shoulder.

You nodded weakly as you studied the necklace without a breath in your lungs. "It's beautiful."

Hoseok took the necklace from the box as you scooped up your hair and the cold pearls made contact with your warm skin. Hoseok fastened the clip in the back and took your soft hair from your hands, his fingers letting them fall down your back.

"You're so beautiful, baby," purred Hoseok when his hands returned to your waist and pulled you to him as his lips left tender kisses along your shoulder.

Jimin

When you got back from work, you were surprised to find Jimin already at home. It was barely the afternoon and he sometimes stayed at the office until evening.

"Hey," you greeted softly as you cuddled up next to him on the sofa. You wrapped your arms around his sides and leaned against his chest but he didn't budge. Jimin was pretending to watch the TV and refused to even say hello.

You sat up perplexed as you studied your boyfriend's sullen frown.

"What's wrong?" you breathed, your chest heavy with guilt although you had no idea what you did wrong. You took your boyfriend's hand and squeezed it pleadingly but Jimin gave no reaction.

"Jimin-ah," you tried again, your voice almost cracking. You couldn't stand having him be upset with you, especially when you had no idea what could have made him react this way. Jimin was never upset with you no matter what, which is why his reaction affected you so much.

The desperation in your voice made Jimin break his harsh facade. He turned to you frowning no less.

"Why do you think I gave you that card?" said Jimin bitterly but you were lost. He leaned forward and grabbed the bank statement from the coffee table and showed it to you.

"You promised me that you would spend money on that card, Y/N," said Jimin when you read through the humble list of meals you had paid with Jimin's card, the 30 dollars that you had spent on buying some cute office supplies and the 20 dollars you had left at the bookstore.

"But I did," you insisted, showing Jimin the bank statement that he knew by heart now. He rolled his eyes and glared at you again. You had never seen him behave like this before. His jaw clenched as his eyes narrowed at you. A part of you knew that he wanted you to spend more money but there was nothing you really needed that much. After Jimin found out that you weren't exactly financially stable, he pulled the card right from his wallet and gave it to you.

"You promised me, Y/N," said Jimin and got up. Your wide eyes followed him and your lips were parted in shock. He grabbed his car keys and waited for you to get up as well.

"What are you doing?" you asked your boyfriend.

"I'm making you keep your promises to me, sweetheart," said Jimin darkly as he took your hand and led you down to his car.

Jimin drove you to the enormous glass building where he liked to shop. You had been there with him a hundred times before but the prices made your stomach twist into knots.

"Jimin, this isn't necessary—" you tried to reason with him but he only grabbed your hand and led you straight to Tiffany & Co.

"Jimin, please," you begged him as your chest grew heavy with guilt. The salespeople knew him. He already got you a pair of their earrings before but you had only worn them once to your anniversary dinner for fear of losing them.

Jimin picked out a 20 carat diamond necklace for you since he knew you'd refuse to choose any of the items the salespeople displayed especially for him.

Your boyfriend gave you his card and stared at you. He was still angry with you and the sight of it made your heart break.

"Jimin," you pleaded but he didn't budge. The lady at the cash registry waited patiently when the five digit number appeared on the payment terminal in front of you.

"Y/N," Jimin warned when he saw you hesitate. You swallowed and gave in. You pressed Jimin's card against the terminal and felt even worse when it gave a sound of approval.

Jimin took you to Dior next, then Celine, Balenciaga and even Chanel where his card caused more rings of approval from the payment terminal. Your boyfriend's frown, however, began to melt away when he saw you try on couture and get tended to from every direction by the salespeople.

Jimin leaned against the door frame of your dressing room as he watched you put on a beautiful white dress with a black ribbon that screamed Chanel. He glanced over his shoulder before he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. Jimin leaned his chin against your shoulder as he watched you in the mirror.

"See? It's not that hard, baby," he purred before he pressed a soft kiss on your exposed neck and you couldn't help but lean back against him.

Taehyung

"What's this?" asked your boyfriend as he opened his bank statement. You looked up with big wide eyes and your heart sank a little. After Taehyung found out that you weren't exactly financially stable, he gave you his card and practically threatened you to spend money on it when you refused.

"I-I just ... " you began to stutter. You had bought yourself a new bag for your laptop and for the things you needed whenever you went to study or to work and a perfume that you knew Taehyung loved. Those were the kind of treats you could only afford once in a while on your own but since he encouraged you, you got them for yourself although it made you feel no less guilty.

"You said ... You said I should get a few things," you spoke carefully as you watched Taehyung's frown whilst he scanned the contents of his bank statement before his dark eyes turned to you.

"Why didn't you?" he asked sternly, showing you the slip. Your eyes turned into a different kind of wide when he spoke the opposite of what you imagined. You took the bank statement and saw your two items on there along with a few meals that you paid for with Taehyung's card.

"What do you mean? I got the bag," you gestured towards the beautiful accessory that was sitting at the foot of the sofa. "And I got the perfume - it's Gucci." Even saying the brand name weighed heavy on your tongue with guilt. You had never owned a luxurious brand item in your life before you met Taehyung.

"Yeah, and you got tteokbokki, bubble tea, two coffees and spent 12 dollars at a pizza place," Taehyung listed the rest of the items of places where the card was used.

"Do you want me to pay you back?" you asked unsure but that made Taehyung frown even deeper.

"Come on," he instructed as he took your hand and led you to his car. You watched him as he drove you to the city center and pulled up in front of Cartier.

"Tae—" you protested but he cut you off by getting out of the car. "Tae," you tried again when he grabbed your hand and took you inside the luxurious boutique.

"Mr Kim," the elegant saleswoman greeted the moment she saw your boyfriend and you enter their exclusive shop. "We're so glad to see you return, it's been a while." She smiled a bright smile when she saw you before she brought out a collection of their most exquisite items, timeless pieces inspired by art deco.

You tried to get your boyfriend's attention and get out of there but he would not so much as budge. He chose a sapphire and diamond bracelet for you. When the lady presented a six digit on the computer screen, your face grew hot with fever.

"Tae, don't—" you tried but Taehyung glared at you so intensely that you were at a loss for words. He showed you his card - your card - and pressed it against the payment terminal. Your mouth parted when the machine gave a happy sound of approval and the saleslady thanked the both of you. She tried to hand you the velvet box within a beautiful paper bag but Taehyung accepted it instead.

"You're getting this when you pay for dinner tonight, kitten," said Taehyung to you and only you, his dark voice sending shivers down your spine as he towered over you. He handed you back his credit card and left a small kiss on your jaw right above your neck, his lips hiding a shadow of a smirk.

Jungkook

"Please don't make me do this," you begged when Jungkook took you to Calvin Klein and made you try on a series of luxurious fragrances. The prices of the items they sold made your cheeks flush red with discomfort. Ever since Jungkook found out that you weren't financially stable, he insisted you spend money on his elite black card. If you failed to meet his expectations, he made you go shopping and this was just one of those instances.

Jungkook's nose brushed against your neck where one of the wonderful perfumes mingled with your skin.

"You smell so good, kitten," murmured Jungkook, his dark voice giving you goosebumps. He pulled away, his face only inched from yours as he watched you with amusement. Your boyfriend leaned in slowly, a few locks of his dark hair brushing against your forehead. You put your arms around his neck and guided him to you but he pulled away at the last moment, leaving you wide-eyed and perplexed.

"Only after you use the card, kitten," said Jungkook and placed the black credit card into your hand.

"But ..." Your gaze flicked between your boyfriend and your palm. "Jungkook," you whined in protest.

"You should have done this on your own, Y/N," said Jungkook smoothly as he stepped closer to you and you backed away until your back hit the perfume counter. His long arms leaned against the wooden surface and trapped you there. A sharp breath caught in the back of your throat as you stared at you boyfriend but your gaze kept drifting to his lips.

"We could have been somewhere else right now," spoke Jungkook quietly as his eyes gained a dark, glossy look that made your knees go weak.

"O-Okay," you found yourself stuttering.

After you paid for the perfumes you liked, you were eager to leave the luxurious shopping center.

"Not so fast, kitten," said Jungkook as he caught your hand and pulled you inside the Bvlgari boutique.

"Jungkook—" you spoke breathlessly but the salesman already nodded to Jungkook and went to retrieve something from the back.

"Jungkook, please, let's just go," you tried to reason with your boyfriend, but this time, instead of tempting you with his kisses, Jungkook frowned at you. His eyebrows arched sharply as he caressed your cheek.

"Stop fighting me, kitten," he spoke quietly but his chest was vibrating with the deepness of his husky voice. "We made a deal."

Jungkook had made you promise that you would use the card and not just for the things you needed like meals and everyday items.

"Here it is, Mr Jeon," smiled the elegant salesman. He presented a beautiful velvet box on the counter and opened it carefully. A Serpenti Viper Necklace was sitting on the cushion made in its shape. The metal used was white 18 carat gold with so many diamonds it would take you a month to count them.

Your lips parted in awe as you looked up at Jungkook. His frown vanished behind a small smile when his eyes found yours, a playful look in his dark irises.

"Would you like to try it on, Miss?" asked the courteous salesman. You checked with Jungkook and he nodded to the employee. He didn't let the salesman put it on you, though, that was his job. You turned to the mirror whilst the salesman went to assist the person in the back and Jungkook's arms wrapped around your waist. His gaze traced the viper's tail that led down the middle of your chest.

"Do you like it?" asked Jungkook, his hot breath teasing your ear as his eyes found yours in the mirror.

"It's exquisite," you breathed, feeling the weight of the diamonds and gold against your skin. Your hand took one of Jungkook's and intertwined your fingers with his,

"Just like you, kitten," he spoke softly and left a tender kiss on your neck.

479 notes · View notes

starbandit · 1 year ago

Text

Sticky (J.H.S)

Preview: You gulped, swallowing down all the thoughts that flooded your brain. You wanted to pounce on him, something animalistic was growing inside of you.

contains- teasing, slight degradation, small amount of ass slapping/spanking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, dom!hoseok, dirty talk, begging, established relationship 18+ MDI!

word count - 2.8k/unedited

You held your breath as you typed in the code to the studio. Hoseok had left early in the morning, while the sun was still working its way into the sky and the morning dew was still hugging the grass. He didn’t leave before giving you a soft kiss on the forehead, and a gentle tuck of the blankets though. He loved the way you curled up closer to his side, stealing any of the left over body heat.

You wanted to surprise him with a late night snack,you had a little craving for ice cream and wanted to share the sweet treat with him.You had picked up some ice cream on your way over and snuck into the Hybe building. The door unlocked with a click and you silently pushed the door open, hoping you wouldn't give up the surprise too soon.

Only, the room is empty when you open the door all the way. Hobi’s computer is powered off, the chair is neatly pushed in, everything is perfectly in its place and shut down. Did he leave while you were on your way over? No, you would have crossed paths at some point, right? Maybe he had stepped out for a minute and would be back. You took a deep breath before your brain started to feed you extreme thoughts. Kidnapping, him cheating, all of it rushed in at once before you shut the door and made your way down the hall. There was one more place he could be.

As you approached the practice room, you could hear the loud and heavy beats of music. You weren’t sure how he hadn’t damaged his hearing yet with how loud the music was, but you creeped in, trying not to be spotted and sat on the couch in the corner of the practice room and admired your boyfriend.

He was staring himself down in the mirror, examining every small step he made. Each one was done with practiced confidence, perfect execution. You would never not be amazed at how his body went from moving in a wave, like he had absolutely no bones, to these extreme sharp movements in an instant.

Soon enough, Hoseok stopped dancing and instead crouched down to check his phone. It wasn’t until he looked into the mirror that he spotted you. His face instantly lit up, a large smile growing as he stood back up. “Baby!” He squealed out as he rushed towards you. “When did you get here?”

You giggled as he cupped your face and planted tiny kisses all over your cheeks and forehead. He caught you in a warm kiss, soft and innocent. You smiled against his lips before he pulled away.

“I brought ice cream.” You smiled as he made a surprised expression, mouth forming a cute ‘O’ shape.

Hoseok smiled and pulled you into a hug. He was sweaty, his shirt damp from the hours he spent dancing. He gave you a tight squeeze, rocking from side to side. “Thank you.” He planted yet another kiss on the top of your head before releasing you to dig into the ice cream.

The two of you enjoyed the ice cream, both giggling as you stole bites of the other's flavor. Conversation flowed naturally as Hoseok talked about his day, all the hard work he had put into his set, and how he was so excited for you to see how it turned out. He listened as you rambled on about your day as well, nodding along with the conversation as you talked about annoying co-workers and wanting to stay in bed all day.

“I’m going to run through one more time and then I’ll head home with you,” Hoseok moved to clean up the empty ice cream cups. “Does that sound okay, baby?”

Your heart fluttered at the pet name. No matter how long you had been together, it still made you feel like the day you started dating. You hummed in confirmation and nodded your head. “I’ll be cheering you on, like always.”

He smiled and finished cleaning up, before running back over to the mirrors and tapping play on his playlist. You watched him carefully as he ran through, making it about halfway before his actions made your heart race. You watched as the mirror began to fog up, you could see the sweat beading on his face.

Hoseok reached down and tugged his shirt off, throwing it off to the side as he continued to dance. His soft abs flexed with every movement. The blood rushed to your face and you felt your cheeks growing hot. Sweat glistened on his skin, dripping down and highlighting every section of his abs, all the way down to the thin layer of hair that dipped below his waistband.

You gulped, swallowing down all the thoughts that flooded your brain. You wanted to pounce on him, something animalistic was growing inside of you.

Suddenly, the music stopped and Hoseok was stood in front of you. He crouched down next to you and silently captured you in a kiss. It was soft and warm, a stark contrast to the dance you had just watched him perform. It was always warm with Hoseok, something you could melt into in an instant. You did so, easily falling into his touch and the softness of his lips.

His hands held you gently, a small hum sounding from him as you moved closer to dig your hands into his hair. Your hands made their way to the back of his head, your fingers tangling in the sweaty strands. You gave them a gentle tug, something you knew Hoseok enjoyed.

He let out a small whimper at the movement and you quickly captured his bottom lip in a light nibble. You whined quietly as he pulled away from the kiss, not yet untangling your fingers from his locks. “Come on, let's go home.” Hoseok said quietly, moving to help pull you up.

You shook your head, fighting the movement. You wanted, no, needed him now. You weren’t going to wait for however long it took you to walk home. You pulled him down into another kiss, this time growing much hotter. Your hands gripped his hair, tugging at the locks a little harsher this time, and deepened the kiss. Your tongue peaked into his mouth, tasting the remaining sweetness of the ice cream on his tongue.

Hoseok smirked against your lips as he pulled away. “That impatient?” He questioned in a teasing tone. He shook his head. “Such a needy baby.” He gently tugged you closer, tugging you into his lap after he sat on the ground. You could feel his growing erection against your heat, the thin shorts he had on covered absolutely nothing. You sighed at the feeling, rocking your hips forward in a slow grind as you leaned in for another kiss.

Hoseok gently cupped your face, taking control of the kiss this time. He kissed you a little too soft, a little too slow, just enough to keep you wanting more. Each time you tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled back slightly. He was teasing you, like a bird taunts a cat through the window. He did it for long enough to draw a needy whine out of your throat before he fully kissed you, capturing you in a red hot, messy kiss.

You moaned at the feeling, your hands reaching up to find purchase on his bare chest. You melted into the kiss, allowing Hoseok to paint your mouth with his tongue. His kisses were intoxicating, your brain buzzing with the feeling and taste of him. The subtle sweetness mixed with his natural taste was enough to soak your underwear.

“Couldn’t even let me finish my work,” Hoseok snaked his hand between the two of you, fingers dancing over your clothed center. “You were that desperate for my cock, hm?” He teased as he pushed your hair to the side with his other hand. His head dipped down to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck. “Such a needy little baby.”

“Hoseok,” You whimpered as he rubbed small circles over your clothed clit. Your hips twitched forward, searching for more friction. “Hobiii,” Your eyebrows furrowed together.

He hummed against your skin, trailing his tongue from the base of your neck up to your ear. “What is it, baby? What do you want?” He nibbled on the outside of your ear, a shiver snuck its way now your back at the sensation.

“You, I want you.”

Hoseok chuckled. “Be specific.”

Your ears grew hot. You could be specific. Tell him about how you want him to strip you naked and eat your pussy like it was his last meal, wanted him to sink his fingers deep into you and massage the spot that made you see stars. You could tell him how you wanted to ride him, bounce on his cock until you were shaking and out of breath.

But that isn’t what came out of your mouth. “I want you to fuck me, please, fuck me until I can’t walk.”

“Come on,” Hoseok withdrew his hand and bounced his leg to get you to stand. You stood up and followed Hoseok. He led you to the front of the room, straight in front of the large mirror that sprawled across most of the wall. He quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and folded it, placing it in front of the mirror. “On your hands and knees.”

You froze for a second before a smack on your ass made you jump. “I said, on your hands and knees, or do I need to force you?” Hoseok questioned. You quickly dropped to your knees, falling onto the shirt. You watched as Hoseok pulled his shorts and boxers off at once, kicking them across the floor. Saliva built up in your mouth as you stared at his cock, tip pretty pink and shiny with precum.

It wasn’t long before Hoseok dropped to his knees as well and pulled your pants down, the waistband settling in the crevices of your knees. “I want you to watch.” He gently tugged on your hair to make you pick up your head. You locked eyes in the mirror, your stomach fluttering with nerves as you watched him. Your arms shook as he placed a hand on your ass and used the other one to drag his cock up and down your pussy. You watched as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, admiring you. “Hobi, please,” You whimpered as you pushed back slightly, trying to get him to do something.

His hand pulled away before coming down again, a sharp smack sounding through the room. You winced as he rubbed his hand over the area, soothing the hot skin. “So needy,” He muttered under his breath as he teased your entrance with the tip of his cock before plunging in.

A moan ripped its way through your body as he settled into place. Your arms shook before crumpling under you, your cheek making contact with the cold floor. Hoseok gave you a few thrusts, hips moving with practiced ease, hitting every spot that made your eyes roll back. You whimpered with every movement.

Hoseok's grip tightened on your hip, pulling you back with each movement to meet him. His other hand trailed up your back, fingertips tickling the skin and making you wiggle with every touch. His hand landed under your shirt, skin hot and burning your back the longer it sat there. He stayed for a few moments before his hand retreated from under your shirt and moved over the fabric, finding its way up the back of your neck and into your hair. His fingers tangled into the locks, twisting them over his hand and tugging hard. A whimper flew out of your mouth as he tugged again, this time enough to get you to push back up to your hands and stay there.

“Good girl,” He growled out a small praise. “Look in the mirror, watch yourself.”

You were a mess. You caught a fuzzy glimpse of yourself in the mirror, the glass was fogging back up, moisture beading and dripping. Your lips were bitten red and glossy, the color matched the deep blush of your cheeks. Drool glistened and stained your chin, sweat dripped down your neck and painted the hickeys Hoseok had so graciously left on your neck. Your eyes were glassy and pupils blown, eyebrows furrowed together in pleasure.

Your eyes flickered to Hoseok, who was intensely watching your every move. An animalistic glint glossed over his eyes and a smirk painted his face as he delivered a particularly deep thrust. You tightened around him, watching as his jaw clenched and a groan pushed its way out of his body.

Every roll of his hips brought you closer and closer to your orgasm. The drag of his cock over your walls made your thighs shake. You pressed back in desperation, trying to get him impossibly closer, deeper. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gasped, chasing the high that was just out of reach.

“Poor baby, do you want to cum?” Hoseok wiggled his hips before stopping his movements, cock nestled deep in your pussy. “Pretty girl, are you close?” He released your hair, gently combing through the sweaty strands.

You whimpered and nodded. “Please, wanna cum.” You pushed back against him. The heat was dissipating with every second. “Please, Hoseok, I can’t.” You let out a broken moan.

“I wanna watch you do it, fuck yourself on my cock, baby.” He planted another smack on your ass.

Tears welled up in your eyes again as you tried to find a messy rhythm. You rocked yourself back on Hoseok’s cock, moving your hips in an attempt to hit the same spots he was. A frustrated whine left your lips as you desperately tried to chase your high back, the heat slowly building up once more in your abdomen.

You continued until you were out of breath and collapsed forward with a pathetic moan. “Too tired, baby?” Hoseok reached forward to gently stroke your hair. You gave a small nod. His features softened before his grip on your hips tightened. “You were so close, huh?” He rolled his hips forward once more. He clicked his tongue and let out a breath. “Do you want me to make you cum?”

You had never agreed to anything faster. Hoseok immediately picked up where he had left off, moving his hips in ways you could only dream of and hitting spots that made you see stars. His hands danced from your hips, snaking around until his fingers found your clit.

“Fuck, fuck,” A guttural moan ripped through your body. The heat in your abdomen grew as Hoseok rubbed the bundle of nerves. “I-i’m gonna cum, please don’t stop.”

“Cum for me, baby.” Hoseok grunted. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass grew louder. “Cum on my cock, I know you want to.”

“S-shit.” Your whole body shook as your orgasm washed over you, your pussy spasming around Hoseok's cock. Your vision went white and your ears began ringing as you let out a loud, pornographic moan.

You heard Hoseok let out a string of curse words, his hips stuttering forward in a messy rhythm. “Gonna fucking,” He let out a strangled moan, “Fill you up so good.” You gasped as he released, hot cum painting your insides. That alone was almost enough to push you into another orgasm, almost.

Hoseok stayed where he was for a few moments and drew small circles over the exposed skin on your lower back. “You ready?” He questioned softly. He waited for a hum of confirmation before slowly pulling out of you. The cum dripped down your thigh as you collapsed to the ground, groaning at the soreness in your muscles. You were thankful of the shirt Hoseok had placed below you, it had both saved your knees from more pain and was going to make for easier clean up.

Hoseok hushed you as he wiped you clean with the discarded shirt before wiggling your pants back up over your hips. He gave your ass a soft pat before moving to get redressed himself, digging through his bag to find a fresh t-shirt.

He wasn’t about to let you sleep on the floor, instead coaxing you up with promises of a nice bath and a head massage at home. He giggled and cooed over your tired expression as you stood up, dodging a playful slap from you at the teasing. Hoseok admired your features for a few moments longer before you two set off back home. He couldn’t believe you were his, his pretty baby.

#hoseok smut #jhope smut #hoseok imagine #hoseok fanfic #hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #jhope fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts oneshot #hoseok oneshot #jhope one shot #jung hoseok smut #jung hoseok x reader #my writing #once again based on a dream i had

1K notes · View notes

dreamescapeswriting · 7 months ago

Text

Every Beat of your Heart ~ JHS

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT: 3.9K

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅GENRE: established relationships, military service, cute, fluffy, a little angst I guess, reader and hoseok being goals,

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - October 2024

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

The dim glow of the bedside lamp flickers in the quiet room, casting soft shadows against the walls. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your fingers toying nervously with the edge of the blanket, watching Hoseok as he finished packing his duffle bag. The sound of zippers and rustling made you snap out of your daydream but it did nothing to cover the tension hovering between you both. Everything was strained that day, you'd been two minutes away from crying whenever he spoke to you. Nothing felt like you had enough time together and you knew the day had gone by faster than usual just to torture you.

Hoseok was moving slower than usual, as though each item he folded into the bag was another second of time slipping away, he hated this. All day he'd just wanted to spend in your arms but he had obligations all over the place, the guys wanted to see him, the fans wanted a live and he loved them he did...but you were his world. He wanted to spend his last few hours with you.

His normally bright, energetic personality was muted, weighed down by the reality that this was your last night together... for a long while, something neither of you was exactly pleased about. You'd been trying to come up with ways to look at this all positively but it was a little hard. You clear your throat softly, trying to break the silence that was surrounding you both.

“You’ve got everything?” Your voice was shakey as you stared at the back of your boyfriend's head. Hoseok glances over his shoulder, offering you a small, reassuring smile.

“Yeah, I think so.” He zips the bag shut with a finality that makes your chest tighten. It wasn't like you were going to be completely alone after this, you could still call and write letters but it wasn't going to be the same. None of it was going to be the same.

“It’s not like I’m going that far. I’ll be back before you know it.” He sent you a small smile before squeezing your thigh softly. You did your best to try and smile, but it falters and you tear up a little. You hated that you were doing this but you couldn't help it. It felt as though you were never going to see him right now.

You'd been the same when he went away on a world tour for the first time but you knew a schedule for that. This was all just new to you.

“I know.” You whisper a little. In reality, you knew he wasn't going to be away forever and the time would move a lot faster than you were imagining but it didn't make any of this easier for the two of you.

There’s a beat of silence before Hoseok walks over to you, dropping to his knees in front of the bed and smiling weakly. He takes your hands in his, his thumbs gently rubbing circles on the back of your hands as you stare down at your hands intertwined.

“Hey, we’ll be okay.” He promises you. Your eyes well up with tears despite your best efforts to hold them back, you didn't want to spend his last day with you crying the whole time. You didn't want to make this harder for him than it already was but the thought of waking up without him tomorrow was killing you inside. You were going to have to get used to living in silence, without his laughter filling the house. It felt unbearable.

“I’m going to miss you so much.” Your voice cracked as you shook your head. Hoseok leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin making you come out in goosebumps.

“I’m going to miss you, too. Every single second.” He smiles weakly and kisses your lips softly, the two of you leaning your foreheads on one another in silence.

You sit like that for a long moment, neither of you wanting to break the fragile bubble of peace you've created in the quiet. Your fingers tangle in his hair, your other hand resting on his cheek as if you can somehow memorize the feeling of him being close, the texture of his skin, the way he smells like warmth and comfort.

“I’m proud of you,” You whisper, your voice was once again, shaky.

“I’ll wait for you, no matter how long.” It was what you'd said to him after the boys found out they wouldn't be excluded from service and you would continue to remind him however long he needed to hear it. Hoseok’s eyes glisten under the low light as he pulls back just enough to look at you fully.

“You don’t have to wait too long. I’ll come back as soon as I can and before you even know it. You’re my priority, Y/N. I’ll be thinking of you every day.” He squeezes your hands softly and you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat as you try to focus on the right there and now.

“I’ll write to you. And send you things. Whatever you need.” You told him with a smile making him chuckle softly for the first time all day, a sound that instantly warmed your heart.

"I'll send you things too," He offered and you nodded at him, running your hands over his shirt as you looked at him.

“Just send me something that smells like you. That’s all I need.” You promised him, leaning forward and closing the gap between you and pressing your lips to his. The kiss is slow, tender, filled with everything the two of you wanted to say but couldn't find the words to do so.

“I don’t want to go,” he admits quietly, his voice breaking just a little.

Your hands move through his hair, comforting and steady as you brush through the strands. It wouldn't be long until all of it was gone so you were trying to get your fill of it.

“I know. But we’ll make it through this.” You promised.

"And you know, having the house to myself might be nice," you tease as he pulls you into his arms, falling onto the bed with you as you cuddle into each other and enjoy your final night.

The days without Hoseok blur into one another until it had almost been a full month apart from each other. You were doing everything that you could to keep yourself busy, filling the empty spaces of your shared home with errands, work, and friends. But no matter how much you try to distract yourself, there are quiet moments—usually late at night—when the absence of him becomes unbearable to deal with. His side of the bed was always so much colder, the house quieter without his laughter.

Falling into the new routine was proving harder than you'd expected. For the first time in five years, you had to learn to sleep alone, and the bed felt miles too big, too empty for you. So you stacked pillows behind you for some kind of comfort, even spraying them with the aftershave you knew he loved.

The silence of the nights was deafening without the soft sound of Hoseok’s breathing beside you, you missed rolling over to listen to his heart. You missed waking up tangled in his legs in the mornings. Every night you tossed and turned around, clutching the pillow he used to sleep on, trying to find some comfort in the lingering scent of him. But it’s never the same. The room felt hollow, and every time she woke up, reaching out instinctively for him, you were hit with the stark and cold reminder that he wasn't there anymore.

The mornings weren't any easier either. You'd grown so used to your rituals—Hoseok making coffee while you lazily stayed in bed, his laughter filling the kitchen, the way he’d hum to himself when he thought no one was listening. The way he'd make sure to put your coffee in the fridge to cool it down since he knew you made your iced coffee after he'd gone to work and didn't like making it with ice because it watered it down too much. You missed coming home to fresh flowers on a Friday night when you'd finished work. Now, the house is filled only with the quiet hum of the fridge, and the once lively energy has dulled and the colour the fresh flowers bought you were dulled out. Everything just felt black and white.

Sighing you rolled over in the bed and grabbed your phone, glancing at your phone, opening up his last text again, the one he sent to you just before lights out.

HobiStar: "Missing you like crazy, but I’m okay. I’ll call as soon as I can. Don’t forget to eat well, and drink plenty, okay? Love you, always."

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, wanting to send another message, but you know he wouldn't see it for a while, every morning he was straight to training. Some days you were lucky enough to get a text and other times you weren't. Instead of replying, you shut the screen off with a sigh and walked over to the small table where you'd been collecting things for his care package.

You wanted to make sure he had something from home while he was there and you were trying to make sure all of it was perfect. It was your own little way of staying connected to him. You carefully folded up a sweatshirt you know he loves—the one that you used to steal from him when the nights were cold or when he went away on tour. You giggle a little to yourself as you remember all of the times he would pretend to be upset, only to toss it at you with a grin later.

Next, you placed a handful of snacks you'd picked out during a trip to the store: his favourite candies, a few protein bars, and some ramen that would remind him of home. You knew the food in the barracks must get monotonous, and these small comforts might help lift his spirits a little.

Your eyes wander over the table, landing on the bracelet you'd made last week, your heart fluttering a little at the thought of him wearing it - if he was even allowed. But it was just a simple bracelet, a few braided threads in his favourite colours, but it felt special to you and you knew it would to him too.

Lastly, you pulled out a small photo of the two of you together—one that you'd taken on a date not long before he left. In the picture, you were laughing, arms wrapped around each other, the sunlight catching Hoseok’s smile perfectly. Turning it over you quickly grabbed a pen and scribbled on to the back.

“So you don’t forget what we look like together. I’m waiting for you. Love, Y/N.”

Before sealing the package, you added in the long letter that you'd been writing all week long. It was something you'd poured your heart out into, promising him that you would make sure when he returned you'd have the home welcome for him. That you were going to throw a huge dinner party for him and his family to come along to and you couldn't wait to be able to cook for him again soon.

The door creaks open, and before you can even register the sound, you hear his voice—soft but unmistakable but it is him. He was home! You knew he'd been planning to come home that weekend but you thought you had more time to prepare for his visit.

“Y/N?” You drop the dish towel you were holding and rush to the entrance. Your heart races out of your chest as you finally see him standing there, looking just as you remembered but somehow different. His uniform is crisp, his posture a little more rigid, but it’s still Hoseok. The same warmth in his eyes, the same gentle smile you'd missed so much.

“Hoseok!” You practically scream, throwing yourself into his arms before he can take another step inside. He catches you - as he always did, his strong arms wrapping around you tightly as he buries his face in your shoulder. He took in a deep breath, he'd missed you being this close to him, he'd missed feeling you in his arms and most of all he missed your smell. Spraying your perfume on the sweatshirt you sent him just wasn't the same as the real you.

“I missed you,” he whispers into your neck, his voice thick with emotion. Small kisses were left up and down your skin, as you felt your legs shake a little, almost giving in and dropping against him.

“I missed you too,” You sniffle, holding him even tighter, as if afraid he might disappear if you were to let go. You take your time to breathe him in this time—the familiar scent of him mixed with the fabric of his military jacket—and it feels like a part of you that’s been missing has finally come home.

For a long moment, the two of you just stood there, holding each other in the doorway. Neither of you was moving, too scared that it would be over too soon if you were to move. There was no need for words, just the comfort of being together again after so long apart.

“You look good,” You say, smiling despite the tears gathering in your eyes. He looked so different but it was a good different. The selfies he was sending you didn't do him justice at all.

“Different, but good.” you giggle a little as a blush begins to creep its way onto your boyfriend's cheeks and he chuckles, a soft sound that makes your heart flutter.

“You think so? I feel exhausted.” You brushed your hands over his face and nodded a little,

“You must be.” Your hands drop to his chest, feeling the firmness of his uniform beneath your fingers.

“Come on, you need to rest.” You whispered. He nodded at you, but before you could move, his hands found yours again, squeezing gently and looking at you. He wanted to commit this all to memory, to really take in that he was home, at least for a little while.

“I really missed you,” he says again, more serious this time as he needs you to understand just how much. It was killing him not being able to see you.

“I missed you too, Hobi,” You whisper, using the nickname you know makes him smile and you nod, squeezing his hand again.

“But you’re home now. That’s all that matters.”

"But it's only-"

"You're here," You whispered. Cutting him off before he could complain that he didn't have long. You didn't care how long you had him, he could come home for five minutes and you would still cherish every single second with him before he went back. He was home and you were going to take care of him.

Later that evening, after Hoseok had showered and changed into more comfortable clothes, the two of you had found yourselves sitting on the couch, legs tangled together under a shared blanket, one he'd sent to you while away. Your head was resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a sound you'd missed more than he probably realised.

“Tell me everything,” You say softly, tracing small circles on his arm and looking up at him. The two of you had talked about his training before but that was only through letters, you wanted to hear all about it from him in person as well.

“How was it? Are you okay?” Hoseok lets out a long breath, his fingers dancing over your skin absentmindedly.

“It’s… hard. Different. But I’m managing.” He pauses, glancing down at you. It was hard for him not to see you every day or even the boys. He knew he got to see them on occasion but it didn't make any of it any easier.

“It’s weird, though. No matter how much happens there, my mind is always here. With you.” You felt your body heating up and you smiled, lifting your head slightly to look him in the eyes, you never wanted to take your eyes off him.

“I think about you all the time, too. It feels like something’s missing when you’re not here.” He leans down, kissing your forehead tenderly and closing his eyes for a second.

“I’ll be back for good before you know it.” The two of you cuddled together in silence a little while longer but you knew Hoseok was keeping his eyes on the clock. You could feel him checking it every so often and your heart sank when you realised why. He was probably counting down the minutes to when he was leaving you again.

“Do you have to go back soon?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, almost as if you were scared to ask him it. Hoseok sighs softly, his hand resting on the back of your neck.

“In a few days, yeah.” You smile. Days were better than you had been expecting so you nodded. You'd already called into work and told them you'd be out all weekend so you had time to spend with him.

“Then we’ll make the most of the time we have.” He pulls you closer to him and chuckles, his lips brushing against your temple as he nods a little.

“We always do.”

That night, the two of you fell asleep wrapped around each other, your limbs intertwined as if you were trying to make up for all the lost time when you hadn't slept together.

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows over the military training facility, Hoseok couldn't stop the way his heart was racing as he waited for you. All week long felt like it had been torture, counting down the seconds to when he could finally go home and go home for good.

The air was thick with tension as soldiers said their goodbyes to each other, laughter and emotion swirling in the late afternoon breeze. After two years of service, today is the day—he’s finally discharged. No more long-distance calls, no more nights in the barracks. He’s going home and not just a visit.

Home. Home for good.

But first, he needed to find you.

You'd told him you were going to pick him up from the base but neither of you had realised just how busy it was going to be and how quickly you were going to get lost in the sea of people all coming to get their loved ones.

He glances around, searching through the sea of people. His uniform feels too stiff, his hands trembling with nerves. He knows you were there somewhere in the crowd, waiting for him, just as you had been through all the time you'd spent apart. His heart pounds harder with every step as he scans the faces of those around him, anxiety creeping up when he doesn’t immediately spot you.

“Y/N…” he whispers to himself, his voice lost in the buzz of the crowd. He hadn't been this needy to see you since the first time he went away on a world tour and had to come home to you.

Meanwhile, you rushed through the training grounds, your heart pounding in your chest. This day was everything you'd been waiting for, everything you'd been dreaming about, counting down the days to when you finally had your man back. But now that it’s finally here, you can hardly contain your emotions. Ever since you'd woke up that morning you'd been crying on and off. You'd had to pull over on the drive here because you couldn't see through your tears.

Even now tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you move faster, your eyes darting frantically, trying to spot him among the rows of uniforms.

Where is he?

Your hands shake as you grip your phone, his last text open on the screen. “I’ll be out soon. Wait for me, love.” You look up, panic rising when you don't see him right away, you knew he was here, there was no way he wasn't here but not seeing him was making your chest tighten more and more. But you kept moving, pushing through the crowd, knowing that you'll eventually find each other. You always did.

Suddenly, as if drawn by some invisible force, your eyes lock across the distance, your smile spreading from ear to ear as you see him. Time seems to slow, the noise of the crowd fading into the background as everything else melts away. Hoseok’s breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, he can’t move. He stands there, frozen, as if his body can’t quite believe it’s real. But then, without thinking, his feet start moving, faster and faster.

At the same time, you feel your heart leap into your throat and you start running, the crowd parting like waves as you sprint toward him. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, tears streaming down your face, but none of it matters, you don't care who saw you crying right now. He’s right there, and after two years of waiting, nothing can stop you from reaching him.

Like in the movies, the two of you crash into each other with a force that nearly knocks you both off balance. Hoseok’s arms wrap tightly around you, lifting you off the ground as he buries his face in your hair, breathing you in. Your hands clutch the back of his jacket, pulling him impossibly closer, your heart racing as if it’s trying to make up for all the time you've spent apart.

“Hoseok,” You whisper, her voice breaking as you break down into tears.

“You’re here… you’re really here.” You whimpered, sniffling a little as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes shining with tears, his hands cupping your face as he ran his thumb under your eyes.

“I’m home,” he breathes, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’m home, and I’m never leaving you again.” He vowed to you.

Before either of you could say another word, your lips crashed together in a desperate, passionate kiss. It’s a kiss that speaks of every missed moment, every sleepless night and every unspoken word you'd held onto for two long years. Hoseok holds you as if he were afraid you were going to disappear, pouring all of his love, and all of his longing into the kiss.

When the two of you finally pull apart, both breathless, Hoseok presses his forehead against yours, his hands still cradling your face.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers, his voice trembling with the weight of his feelings.

“I missed you more,” You giggled, your eyes once again filling with fresh tears.

“I thought about you every day. Every minute.”

“I know,” Hoseok says softly, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

"I love you, baby." He whispered, bringing you into him and holding onto you tightly. The two of you forgot all about the other soldiers who were reuniting and getting lost in each other.

"I love you too...I-I...I told your family to be home in four hours." You whispered to him,

"It only takes an hour to get home-"

"I know," You smirk at him, you just wanted some time along with him before you had to share him with everyone else again.

"Then let's not waste time," he smirks grabbing your hand and following you out to the parking lot.

@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp @royallyjjk @parkjennykim @piercedddriver

#bts #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #hoseok #hoseok x reader #hoseok imagine #hoseok imagines #jung hoseok #jung hoseok x reader #jungkook imagine #jung hoseok imagines #jhope #jhope x reader #jhope imagine #jhope imagines

452 notes · View notes

imagine-a-life-like-this · 6 months ago

Text

Celebrating 420 with best friend!BTS

Warnings : swearing, drug use, food, slight suggestive (if you squint)

A/N : Thank you for the request anon 🫶 I really enjoyed making these. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed making them! 🥰

Stray Kids | Ateez

@mxnsxngie @maeleelee @cadenonlinelive @weird-bookworm @turtledove824 @lakoya @lookitsjess @yukichan67 @beebee18

#bts imagine #bts x reader #bts au #bts smau #bts fake texts #bts #kim seokjin x reader #min yoongi x reader #jung hoseok x reader #kim namjoon x reader #park jimin x reader #kim taehyung x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

282 notes · View notes

mxckiemxn · 9 months ago

Text

Random Best Friend Texts pt.3 🖤

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Warnings: swearing

#bts #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts x reader #bts fic #bts imagines #bts smau #bts imagine #bts social media au #jungkook x reader #jungkook smau #jungkook social media au #bts fake texts #Jungkook fake texts

430 notes · View notes

sosickastro · 3 months ago

Text

Indulgence (Bts x Chubby reader)

-------------------

Poly Bts x Chubby Reader, Soulmate au and Idol au

Summary: Poor broke and isolated mc gets the chance to go to a concert with an old high school friend, with hoping to find their soulmate and see the biggest boy band in the world. A new shocking reality hits her while at the concert.

Chapter Warnings: degrading thoughts, poor writing and grammar, gender confused reader, anxiety, mc being a loner, mentions of weight insecurities, swearing, etc (let me know if I miss anything)

A/N: Hey yall I am not dead just being a wage slave at my job and working 24/7-- I wrote this a bit ago and posted a snip it of this a while ago as well but my friend begged me to post an actual chapter of this--- if this goes well I might post more. As usual, Grammarly is my lord and savior so there are going to be some mistakes even they can't catch.

word count: 2,644 (damn)

(Thank you Corinnecousins on Pinterest for this picture)

The red string is an invisible string with only the users being able to see it. On the other end of the string, it is supposed to be your soulmate. Someone that is your other half, someone that the universe itself said was perfect for you. At the age of 18, you get to see the string in completeness, it's like officially becoming an adult. Some people do find their soulmates before the ripe age but most don't find their other half till well into their twenties.

There is this website that the government set up, it is called ‘The SoulTies.’ This website is run by a mysterious group that knows when soulmates complete their bond and on this website, you can see who is paired with who. The website came about mainly for celebrities because a lot of casualties happened when crazed fans pushed too much to find their favs soulmates. This was the compromise, and surprisingly it worked. No one knows how these people know, it is almost like the gray sisters and the string of fate except they don't cut the string, and the string is red and involves love. Something the Greeks thought of as a tragedy and not a serendipity. I think the website is funny, not in a mean way. Moreso seeing well-known people get paired with nobodies. It’s nice knowing that the ones who acted full of themselves get humbled by their fate. I haven’t met my soulmate yet,

I am almost 19 and a month into my freshman year of college with no friends, barely a social life, and no soulmate. Though I wasn't expecting to find him on day one of moving into college, it is still disheartening when you see others with their lovers or soulmates and your red string is so tight it can cut a block of cheese. See the further you are away from your soulmate the tighter the string, when you guys get closer to each other the string will loosen. I was hoping that moving to a different state would give me a fresh start in this whole life mess, but it just made me more depressed than I have ever been.

I let out a long sigh as my thoughts consumed me, I adjusted the bag on my back and skipped through a few songs. The nice weather and lack of students around made the hell walk to my class more bearable. Recently I have been getting back into listening to BTS, the music makes me less stressed about life, and I get to reminisce about how happy they make me. When I was a tween and didn’t know about the struggles of financial debt and stupid people. I put on one of their albums as I made my way to my philosophy class. BTS as I recently found out are all soulmates with each other, they decided to let the world know a few years ago but I guess I was living underneath a rock when the news broke out. It makes sense in my opinion, all being soul-tied, and it's not like group soul bonds don't exist, they are uncommon, sure but not rare. A part of me, the delusional side of me, secretly hoped it would be one of them. That I was fated to be with Taehyung or maybe Jungkook. I know a lot of their more toxic fans were upset by this announcement as I went into a rabbit hole on the whole matter. The outrage by the delusional fans where overshadowed by the more competent people and was overall taken very well.

I made myself laugh at the thought as I took my seat in the filled classroom. I gave a soft smile to the two girls who sat by me as I placed my headphones into my bag and grabbed my laptop. I make a quick Google doc so I can pretend to take notes and pull my phone out to check any notifications I may have gotten on my walkover. I smile as I see a text from an old friend, Lauren. Me and her graduated from the same high school and we were some of the very few people to move out of state for college because of this we stayed in contact with each other; hoping to lessen the stress of college and being in a new state.

LaLaRen: Hi, I know this is sudden and you can say no to me, but I got these concert tickets from a classmate and I was wondering if you want to come with me. I think you know this band and it is happening this Saturday.

Me: Omg, I would love to, who is the band? :]

LaLaRen: It is the K-pop band BTS. I only really know a few songs from them. But I remember hearing from Sarah that you love them, or maybe like K-pop in general.

Me: No fucking way- OMG YES I WOULD GO WITH YOU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

LaLaRen: Haha, okay okay how about you come down Friday so we can go shopping and hangout for a little ;0

Me: Sounds wonderful ;]

I giggle softly to myself as I feel the energy surging in me. I have always wanted to see a BTS concert and now here is my golden opportunity, fuck willy wonka this is more amazing than his chocolate factor.

When I got back from my class, I threw my bag onto my half-made bed and sat down at my desk. I grab my laptop out of my school bag to send off an email to my professors letting them know of my absence for tomorrow. As much as me and Lauren can plan around our classes, it would be easier for us not to have them. Plus I don’t believe I can sit through another psychology lesson knowing I was going to see the biggest boy band ever.

My phone set off as I finished sending the emails and looking into bus tickets, the caller ID displaying ‘LaLaRen’ I laughed to myself as I accepted the call. “Hi girl,” I said to the phone smiling as Lauren laughed I placed my phone on the messy desk putting the call onto speaker so I can try and muilty task, “Hello girly, so when do you think you will be down?” she asked me with a small giggle, it looked like she was equally as excited for this. “Well it's a 3-hour bus ride, if I leave at nine I can potentially get there around noon,” I click through the website the bus service has, seeing the available times for tomorrow Internally groaning at the prices for the bus. Maybe if I start walking now I will make it in time.

A groan gets let out through the speakers “The three-hour bus ride sounds intense, do you want to spend the night at my dorm so you don't have to take the bus after the concert?” Lauren tells me, the way she says that is more of a statement than a question. “Oh my god, a sleepover with THE Lauren, of course,” I responded to her with a high-pitched voice. We both laughed at that and spent the next few hours going over the plan and creating backup plans just in case.

You never know what can happen in the cities. Crazy people even more crazy traffic. Expense coffees and overrated bangle places. I sign knowing that my bank account will suffer after this 2-day trip. After our call ended, I took out my school notebooks and folders from my school bag; to use as an overnight bag. I never really had the thought of buying another backpack, I never went anywhere in my hometown to need one. Perks of being a loner with friends who would rather play video games than have sleepovers. I walked over to my dresser, placed my newly empty backpack on top of it, and began packing it with some clothes. Me and Lauren both agreed to shop for a concert outfit and get some coffee before the concert on Saturday. I bit my bottom lips as anxiety fills my stomach, shopping for clothes has always been hard for me. Not that I don't enjoy it, in fact going thrifting is one of my favorite things.

More so the part where I have to shop for pants or skirts or any bottoms for that matter, I am in the weird awkward body type where I am not fat enough for the plus size clothing but chubby enough to not be able to fit into any size below a 16, even then some 16 pants are too small for me. With Lauren being smaller and skinnier than me I hope it goes over well shopping and we don’t need to go to a hundred different shops just to find one pair of pants that fit me. With that, I put a pair of black cargo pants into my overnight bag. It goes with a lot of outfits just in case I can only find a top to wear.

I like to think I am not super insecure about my weight, though being the fat kid growing up and now even if my weight is distributed through my body after puberty, I still have a stomach to me, I still have big thighs and I still have a chubby face. The comments made to you, even as a kid, stick with you for the rest of your life. I know I am attractive and I am confident in myself, but the insecurity is still there. Especially when you don’t fit into what society wants as a mid-size person, I have a small chest size that makes me pass off as a guy. Another thing that I don't mind as I really don’t care about my gender. But it is whatever. It makes finding a boyfriend hard but makes boys with fragile masculinities pissed off easier, a small win in my book.

I snap out of my degrading thoughts as I finish packing my bag, adding in a few accessories and perfume. I grumble as the dining halls are now closed; though the food was probably not going to be that good anyway. I place the bag at the end of my bed and debated on ordering some takeout but with the money I was going to be spending tomorrow, I decide to try and sleep. Though I know I won’t sleep for a good while, I can spend the night relearning fan chants and old songs. But like usual I spent the next hour scrolling through social media, stalking old classmates before I ended up falling asleep out of exhaustion.

I woke up that morning with a newfound pep in my step, getting dressed and ready was a blur of excitement and anxiety some thoughts of telling Lauren I don’t want to go anymore pop into my head once and a while, but I can not let my anxiety get in the way of seeing my seven fake husbands. After I was done with everything I did a final check around my small dorm making sure that I had everything As I adjusted the straps of the bag, so it fits more comfortably on my shoulders I pulled out my phone to book an Uber to the bus. I give myself one more look in the mirror before heading out of the building. I can drive by the way, but in this economy, it's impossible to buy a car. But still super expensive to use Uber everywhere, it is always a lose-lose situation. A huge fuck you to the poor and stupid college kids just trying to have fun. Maybe my soulmate is some rich dude who can drive me everywhere. Being a forever-passenger princess doesn't sound too bad.

As I wait for the driver to come I sent a quick text to Lauren that I was on my way to the bus station which she answered with a simple ‘Okay’ My Uber drive was quick as my nerves got my adrenaline rushing throughout my body, tomorrow I am going to be seeing my all-time favorite band, and who knows maybe my soulmate will be there. He needs to have good taste in music if he wants to be with me. Though it would be easy to indoctrinate him into the BTS lifestyle.

I give the driver a small ‘thank you’ as I stepped out of the car just in time for the bus to be pulling in. I pulled out my phone to show them the ticket I bought last night and make my over to the bus seeing as it was filling up. I give the driver a polite smile as he gave me a nod singling that I was good to sit down wherever I wanted to. I made my way down the aisle before taking a seat in an empty section. I prayed to whatever God out there that I had to row to myself. As lady luck is on my side I get the two seats to myself as the bus pulls out of the station, I readjust the headphones on my head as I am going to heavily rely on music during this drive, maybe I can sneak in a nap beforehand too.

The three-hour ride went well, very well it felt like only 3 minutes. Maybe I am way too excited for this concert but I never had the privilege to be this hopeful in my life. I wait a little as the bus comes to a stop and people begin to step off the bus. As I also take my leave on the bus I quickly spot Lauren, her long black hair and chunky glasses give her away pretty easily. We pulled each other into a hug letting out excited giggles. “Are you ready for city traffic?” Lauren asks me with wiggling eyebrows “Of course” I say back to her, we begin to take off to meet up with Lauren’s soulmate who would be driving us. We talked about the concert and the songs we hope to hear. The sounds of traffic, people talking, kids yelling and cars honking filled the air like an unwelcomed hug from your weird aunt; uncomfortable but familiar I nodded my head along as Lauren rants about how close we are going to be to the stage and hoping to see Namjoon that close up

Then for the first time in my life, I felt a tug, anxiety filled my stomach as I froze in my tracks, and my heartbeat went through the roof as I looked down at the red thread I usually forget about, it loosened. Holy shit I am near my soulmate. Holy shit. Lauren notices that I stop walking and now staring at my pinky finger asks me “Are you okay?” I initially looked around the bus station, there were a lot of people walking around, too many to see where the string goes. “Is it your soulmate?” Lauren asks me again. I couldn't speak, my mouth dry as I gave her a shaky nod.

But unfortunately just as it loosens it quickly tightens again, meaning my soulmate either left or is on a bus going further away from me. “I wonder if he felt it” I questioned out loud, looking at Lauren with shaken eyes. She sighs, almost equally disappointed “Come on Clare is waiting for us, we don’t want to keep her waiting.” Lauren tells me, grabbing my hand and basically dragging me to the exit. I can’t stop staring at my red thread, there's hope. There is always hope. Now I at least can find comfort that he is in the States, and not in Korea or Russia or anything far away.

193 notes · View notes

girlatmirror · 16 days ago

Text

baby, baby | jjk

why would jungkook need to entertain other women when you have enough personalities to keep him completely occupied?

husband! jungkook x (kinda crazy!) pregnant!reader

warnings: reader is sooo bratty but very pregnant so it’s justified, jungkook is the president of i 🫶🏼 my wife club, in my mind this is bend my rules jungkook and reader in the future, smut (minors leave immediately), degradation!!!, slapping (only once), spanking, use of the word slut, penetrative sex, bj, i didn’t proofread 💔, i had entirely too much fun writing this (i’m just a silly girl in a non silly world), idk what else, but i love this jungkook and reader

Your mood swings had never been worse. you, 4 months pregnant with an even worse attitude than before, were a lot to handle, but your husband was beyond resilient.

Jungkook worked extremely hard as well, owning a big law firm and juggling a needy, pregnant wife who needed his constant attention and love was almost impossible. Well, it was actually just impossible.

He gave you everything you needed; a cleaning lady, a private chef, a masseuse, a personal midwife that would visit you whenever he wouldn’t be able to go to the appointments with you.

But you didn’t want any of that, you simply needed him.

He didn’t work more than he used to, he actually reduced his work hours as much as possible when you two found out about the pregnancy, but that didn’t seem to satisfy you.

Picking fights and using his ‘absence’ against him was now your go to, but jungkook was always calm with you, simply saying ‘baby, it’s just 9 hours and you sleep through half of them anyway.’

sometimes, the problem was his calmness.

You thought back to those days where you were dating, or engaged and you would have the arguments that would lead to the filthiest, roughest sex. You missed seeing his face scrunch up, his nostrils flare up and his eyes darken.

He was always your sweet, understanding jungkook, but back then, it was easier to make him lose his cool.

Ever since you got married, he became a big softie, never raising his voice, even when you did and never showing you the fiery side that you could not admit you yearned for. You could do or say anything and he would simply listen and abide. Especially while pregnant.

You obviously loved him for it and thanked God for giving you a husband as wonderful as Jungkook, but since you got pregnant, you started craving the jungkook that would voice his anger and later, turn it into passion.

You didn’t know if it was something about your hormones changing and what-not, but you just simply knew you needed him to react to your brattiness the way he used to.

Longing for the Jungkook that would put you in your place, you (semi-unintentionally) went on a mission to bring him back.

You woke up and waddled your way to the spacious kitchen, where you found jungkook making a big breakfast for you two - it was his day off after all.

Once he saw you, his face broke out in a huge smile and he kissed your lips softly. “good morning, my baby, how are you?”

You simply huffed, taking a bite of the crispy bacon. your lips were pouted and your eyes slightly squinted.

Jungkook was not even confused by your behavior, he was already used to not being able to foresee your mood.

“What’s wrong, yn?”, he carefully asked, planting a kiss on your forehead, resting a hand on your growing belly. “did you sleep well?”

You just shook your head in response and turned your back on him.

“How could i sleep well??”, your dramatic response caused him to slightly chuckle under his breath. “you cheated on me!!”

That accusation made jungkook drop everything he was doing and look at you with the most questioning face he could muster; what could possibly make you believe he cheated on you?

“huh?”, was all he was able to say.

You rolled your eyes and lightly, but not playfully punched his arm. “I saw you with that girl last night! you were kissing her and whispering things into her ear..”

Jungkook’s confusion seemed to grow even stronger, trying to understand how you could be so serious and sure of something that never happened.

“Baby, i don’t know what you’re talking about”, he expressed his confusion very calmly, a soothing hand running over your arm. “you do know i was with you the whole night last night?”

“That was before!”, you let out, which confused him even more. “I went to sleep.. and i saw you there in bed with .. her and you were so in love.. how could you do that to me, jungkook??”

Actual tears formed in your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Babyy”, he cooed and wiped away some tears from your face. “that happened in your dream, it wasn’t real at all. i promise i’d never do that to you, princess.”

“But”, you sobbed silently. “it felt so so real.”

Jungkook took you into his arms and gently held and swayed you, of course not without adding a kiss on your head.

“I’m sorry, baby”, he muttered genuinely against your head. “if i ever do that again in your dreams, i’ll make sure to make it up to you, okay? i’m sorry, please forgive me.”

You nodded, against his chest, which had been dampened by your tears. “okay.. i guess i’ll forgive you.”

Not all days started off this way, of course, some days you would wake up and attack him with kisses, some others you wouldn’t wake up until after he’s gone to work (which meant waking up to a handwritten note from him) and then there were days where you would either find a reason to be mad at him or hold onto him so tightly and tell him not to go and then get whiny when he did go.

It wasn’t just your desperation to get fucked hard, it was also just the fact that you, for some reason (pregnancy), felt lonelier and more bored than ever before.

You can only go on shopping sprees and sit in cafés and gossip with your friends a certain amount of times before you get super bored.

At least before the pregnancy you were a working woman, which was not that fun either to be fair but at least you were productive.

Jungkook suppressed a chuckle and just held you for a while.

Despite you being so difficult sometimes, he enjoyed every single moment.

The worst thing about being pregnant was, without a doubt, the sleep. you were actually a side sleeper and for obvious reasons that wasn’t possible at the moment.

You had about an hour of actual sleep (and it wasn’t even satisfying) before you gave up trying and just decided to sit on the bed with your hands dramatically resting on your belly.

One thing ran through your mind like usain bolt; food. You tried to think of any snacks you had in the house but quickly remembered you ate them all the other day and didn’t restock.

Watching and low key envying the way your husband was peacefully sleeping with his pretty snores and his even prettier face, shirtless as he always slept. You suddenly had an idea.

“Jungkook”, you softly nudged his naked arm.

He didn’t budge.

“Jungkooook”, you repeated, dragging out his name and softly poking his nose.

A low grunt escaped his lips as he slowly started to stir.

You leaned closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “jungkook, wake up.”

Once his body recognized you were talking to him, he jolted up with wide eyes. “what?! what’s wrong?? are you okay? is it the baby?”

He was now sitting up straight, rubbing the sleep from his eyes to be able to properly see you.

You pouted, dramatically nodding. “the baby’s hungry.”

“Huh?”

“The baby wants snacks. and we don’t have snacks at home.”

Jungkook glanced at the clock and said, “baby.. it’s almost three in the morning.”

You tilted your head and adorably shrugged your shoulders, lips still pouty. “well, your child doesn’t know the concept of time yet.”

With a groan, jungkook got up and stretched.

“What kind of snacks do you want, baby?”, he asked mid stretch, before putting on a shirt.

“All of them”, was your ambiguous answer. “I want sweet, sour and salty stuff. If that cookie store on Bel Air drive is open, get me three of the marshmallow-filled ones.”

“Alright, baby”, he leaned down to kiss you. “You just text me whatever you need. I’ll be right back. I love you.”

you grinned up at him, so satisfied with his lenience and kissed him again, “i love you more.”

Simultaneously hearing the car start and your stomach rumbling, you found yourself trying to occupy your mind with something other than food, but you were so impatient.

Moments later, your phone rang.

Incoming FaceTime Call from Hubby🧎🏽‍♀️

You immediately picked up. “Hey.”

Jungkook’s still sleepy face took over your phone screen, seemingly looking down at something. “Hey, baby, just wanted to make sure these are the sour patches you like.”

He went on to show a bag of sour patches, holding it up for the camera.

You squinted, dramatic as always. “hmm… those are the right ones. but get two. the baby’s feeling greedy.”

He chuckled softly, rubbing a hand over his face. “you sure it’s the baby?”

“Are you calling me greedy?” you gasped, clutching your chest as if he’d just committed a felony.

“I would never, baby”, he chuckled again, his raspy voice doing things to you.

While he was still out, being your knight in shining armor, you decided to pull out your wedding photo album (something that never failed to make you break out in tears) and look through every single picture taken that day.

It was by far the most precious day of your life. a destination wedding in a venetian palace, just as you had requested (of course jungkook had to fulfill your wish).

Before you could even flip to the second page, your eyes started to water.

He was so handsome that day, even more than normal, which was a very hard thing to achieve and the way he looked at you.. ugh.

Pictures of him kissing your hands, your photoshoot on the palace stairs and the gondola brought back instant memories.

The calming melodies of ‘over and over’ by Bobby Vinton replayed in your mind.

you swore you could hear the ‘wows’ of the guests as you walked down the aisle in your wedding dress, a breathtaking dress designed by Elie Saab himself, and see a teary eyed Jungkook waiting for you at the altar.

you couldn’t even hear the front door open, that was how invested you were.

“Baby?”, Jungkook’s concerned voice interrupted your crying. “what happened?”

you got up from your spot and walked up to him, directly throwing yourself into his arms, which resulted in him dropping the bag of snacks on the ground.

“i missed you.”, you sniffled against his neck and kissed it.

jungkook coo’ed at you and swayed you gently.

“I was gone for 20 minutes.”, he murmured against your hair.

“but..”, your voice started to quiver a little. “that’s way too long.”

he held onto you for a while, “i know, baby, i know” and then ultimately let go to grab the snacks. “alright, what do you want to eat first?”

you both sat on the bed and he dumps all the snacks onto the bed. your mouth started watering; a whole lot of chips, cookies, sour patch kids, drinks and chocolate bars.

that man knew the way to your heart and walked it.

you instantly grabbed a cookie and bit into it, groaning, “oh my god.. this is so good right now. just what we needed.”

holding it up for jungkook to take a bite, he chuckled and took a big bite.

suddenly, you felt a kick in your stomach and excitedly waved your hands, pointing at your stomach. “oh my god, the baby is kicking. i think it’s trying to say thank you to daddy.”

ever since you got pregnant, you and jungkook became the cheesiest couple you swore you would never become but here you were.

jungkook instinctively laid his head on your stomach gently to hear the kick, before he kissed it lovingly.

“hey, baby”, he whispered against it. “mommy and daddy love you so much and we can’t wait to meet you.”

your heart warmed at the sight of jungkook being such an amazing dad; it made you want to give him everything. your eyes traveled back to the photo album that was now back in its original place.

brushing through his dark hair soothingly, you watched him with an amount of adoration that was so palpable.

the baby kicked again.

“i think the baby likes your voice.”, you noted softly. “it kicks whenever you’re around.”

jungkook couldn’t help but smile, now his head was sleepily pressed against your chest, which was obviously his favorite place in the world. “i’m its daddy, of course it love me.”

you scoffed jokingly. “well, it better love me more, i’m the one carrying it.”

that made jungkook let out a laugh. “of course, baby. you shall be the most beloved.”

you stayed in your positions for a moment in silence and then, you felt and heard Jungkook’s cute snores against your chest.

poor him, he had to wake up for work just 4 hours later.

not much later, you also felt yourself getting closer to sleeping.

You felt a little bad about waking Jungkook up at night when he had work in the morning.

So, you decided to make him lunch and visit him at the office, like the good wife you were.

You packed plain white rice, sautéed veggies, and some grilled chicken along with a spicy sauce (what can you say, your husband loved spicy food). It wasn’t much, but the expectations for you weren’t high right now.

Besides, the lunch was just a front to have an excuse to see your husband. You needed to look good, so while it took you less than half an hour to prepare the food, it took you an hour to pick out an outfit and do your makeup.

You opted for a flowy pink sundress that showcased your little baby bump you had grown to adore. You were pregnant, not exempt from looking gorgeous.

You checked the stove, called the driver, made sure your keys were in your bag, and finally, he arrived.

“Where to, Mrs. Jeon?” your driver, Mr. Petrov, greeted you with his usual kindness.

He had been driving you everywhere since your 21st birthday. You admitted to Jungkook a couple months before that you hated driving, so he got you a personal driver for your birthday. In a way, you considered him family — an uncle or something like that.

After all, he had witnessed your relationship through almost all its stages: from being a couple, to becoming engaged, then married, and finally, soon-to-be parents.

“To my husband,” you replied eagerly. “I want to bring him lunch.”

The drive went by as it always did: Mr. Petrov telling you stories about his teenage daughters that you always loved hearing, asking about Jungkook’s wellbeing (which you found adorable), and, of course, giving you parenting advice.

Once you arrived at your destination, Mr. Petrov made sure to help you out of the car (the privilege and disadvantage of being pregnant; people always thought you were incapable of doing anything by yourself) and watched you enter the building to make sure you got in safely before driving away.

The building was as tall as ever. The guard immediately recognized you and personally escorted you to the elevator.

Your walk was confident (at least you thought so). Despite your pregnant self, you looked like you owned the place — which, you kind of did since it was your husband’s company.

The receptionists and all his employees already knew you; you liked to think you had built a good relationship with them. As the boss’s wife, you took that responsibility seriously.

The elevator doors opened to the executive floor and you waddled out toward Jungkook’s assistant.

“Mrs. Jeon, how good to see you!” she greeted you eagerly, with her usual nervousness. “Mr. Jeon is in a meeting right now. He should be done very soon.”

You thanked her and made your way to the meeting room. Through the glass windows, you could see your husband in action, ever the perfect businessman.

He looked so effortlessly commanding and authoritative, but there was a hint of tiredness in his eyes you couldn’t overlook.

Your eyes met his and suddenly, his entire posture changed; the tension in his shoulders softened and a small smile formed on his handsome face.

You waved, and for about four minutes, you waited — which in pregnancy minutes felt like an hour.

He rushed to you once he dismissed all the meeting participants, giving you a tight hug, careful not to press on your belly.

“Hey, beautiful,” he uttered, placing a kiss on your forehead. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see my handsome husband and I brought him lunch,” you smiled. “You look so tired. I feel bad for waking you up so late.”

Jungkook shook his head gently, adoring you with his gaze. “Don’t feel bad,” he murmured. “Let’s go to my office. I’m starving; I want to eat that food you made.”

He sat down at his desk and you positioned yourself on his lap immediately, not needing an invitation, pulling the lunch out of your Goyard bag.

“Eat,” you practically demanded, handing him the spoon.

Jungkook, who had been hungry for a while, immediately dug in, taking big spoonfuls of the food. He offered you some, but you informed him you already ate at home.

“This is so good,” he mumbled through a mouthful, scrunching up his nose like he always did when something tasted especially delicious.

Of course, you loved seeing him like that — and even more when you were the reason.

He quickly finished his food and went back to giving you all of his attention, his hands drawing soothing circles on your back.

“Do you love me?” you asked out of nowhere.

“Yes,” Jungkook didn’t even hesitate to answer.

Nor was he weirded out or surprised by your randomness.

“Would you still love me if I shaved my head?”

Jungkook chuckled, his hands now gripping your waist. “Yes, you’d still be the prettiest woman in the world.”

Your heart smiled. You lazily traced his sharp jawline.

“What if I were a worm?” you asked; it was a question you had asked a million times before.

“Ugh, that question,” he feigned annoyance. “How would I even know it’s you? Hypothetically, if I saw a worm, how would I know?”

Hand on your chest, you pretended to be offended, much to Jungkook’s amusement. “If your wife, I, were to suddenly vanish from your life, you’re telling me you wouldn’t look for me everywhere and in everything?”

He shook his head again.

“Of course I would!” he explained, the smile never leaving his lips. “I just wouldn’t think you’d turn into a worm… more like a fox or a lynx.”

You giggled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I need everything to be perfect!”

The workers didn’t know whether to admire your dedication or be scared of you; either way, they appreciated the hefty sum and the hospitality they were given.

The decorations for today were carefully chosen by you (Jungkook was allowed input too, but not too much). You opted for a classy lavender theme and wore a white maternity dress that perfectly sat on your body.

Today was an especially special day: the gender reveal party for the demon living inside you.

Your sister was picking up the cake that you insisted had to be a white chocolate cake with cream pistachio frosting.

Jungkook was in charge of the guests; he made sure they all arrived safely and were taken care of.

There were, to the surprise of absolutely no one, a lot of guests: besides your and Jungkook’s close and extended family, there were your numerous friends, a few of his workers, neighbors, a couple of women from your prenatal Pilates class, and of course, Mr. Petrov and his family.

You already knew his two daughters; they were self-proclaimed fans of yours. “I want to be just like you when I’m older, Mrs. Jeon.”

“Hi, sweeties.” As soon as you saw them, you hugged them. “How are you guys? I missed you.”

They were practically squealing at the sight of your pregnant stomach, exclaiming how “Wow, your stomach grew so much!” which was received with laughter.

“Girls, has no one taught you basic manners?” Mr. Petrov scolded his daughters semi-jokingly in his thick accent. “Seriously, who raised you?”

The girls didn’t even bother to look at their dad, simply too in awe of how beautiful and pregnant you were.

“That kid is gonna be so gorgeous!” Natasha spoke with excitement. “I mean, with your genes and then Mr. Jeon’s… oh my god.”

“Oh, thank you, my love,” you patted her cheek lovingly.

More guests kept arriving, which left Jungkook, who was very used to being in charge, looking like the perfect host he was.

“Seriously, I hope it’s a boy,” Daria admitted, an eager look on her face. “So we can raise him to be a gentleman.”

That statement quickly turned into an argument between the two sisters; Natasha wanted a girl, and Daria wanted a boy.

You, wanting to give them a bit of space in their sisterly fighting, made sure to greet all the other guests after offering Mr. Petrov a drink.

Jungkook had a moment to spare, using it to make sure you were doing okay. He came over to you, placing a hand on your back. “How’s my princess doing?”

You instinctively put a hand on your stomach (something you did quite often these days) and gently smiled at him. “I’m doing well, just waiting for my sister to come through with the cake…”

“Is the photographer already here?” you suddenly started panicking, realizing you momentarily forgot about somebody.

Jungkook tapped you on the shoulder reassuringly. “Relax, he’s right there by the bar.”

That didn’t reassure you though; on the contrary. “Why is he drinking?! That could mess up all the pictures. Oh my god… Jungkook, go and tell him to stop drinking!”

You pushed him toward the bar and immediately left, leaving him with no other choice but to actually go up to the photographer and prevent him from drinking.

Right then, your sister finally arrived with a huge cake box in her hand, puffing from the sheer weight of it. “…I’m here, oof… damn!”

Just as you wanted to go over and help her, your dad took it from her hand and placed it onto the table.

The cake arrived, the buffet looked good, the music was great, the kids were having fun on the bouncy castle, the adults were happy about the free drinks and food, and there was nothing to complain about…

Jungkook was hoping you would not find anything to complain about.

“I’m so excited,” your fingers almost trembling as you wrapped them around Jungkook’s big arms. “Do I even want to know? Like… what if we waited until I give birth to know… so many moms do that, maybe I should too.”

Jungkook couldn’t believe his ears; first, you turned the entire world upside down to make this party as epic as you could, and now, you were practically objecting to it.

“Baby,” he spoke ever so gently. “You’ve been wanting this for a long time now. You’re just nervous, don’t worry. We’ll know the gender and nothing bad will happen regardless.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Okay.”

A few hours of dancing, gift opening, and games passed, and now you were all ready to witness the sole reason for this party.

When you were planning the gender reveal party, you wanted something classic and simple for the reveal.

The good old cutting into the cake to find out the gender. Nothing more, nothing less.

So, there you both were, standing in front of the podium where the cake sat in all its glory. Your shorter body was in front of Jungkook, and he was positioned right behind you, his hand on yours, both holding the knife.

Your heart pounded; you didn’t even know why. This wasn’t even an anxiety-inducing situation. Your hormones were messing you up.

All the guests were watching curiously and with full attention as you and Jungkook cut a piece of cake.

The frosting was pink. Cheers broke out.

“It’s a girl!” Jungkook announced with joy in his voice, hugging you so tightly.

You, of course, cried tears of happiness. “I can’t believe we’re having a little baby girl…”

He kissed you on the lips passionately, both of you completely forgetting the camera and the guests.

“She’s gonna be a handful,” he joked, holding your chin and caressing your tear-stained cheeks. Finally, you laughed.

He was probably right.

“Oh, absolutely,” you agreed with him. “But you’re gonna spoil her, so it’s gonna be all on you.”

Jungkook couldn’t deny it, so he just tilted his head. “What can I say? It’s my thing.”

it was dinner time, your favorite time of the day. on most days, dinner is the only meal you really got to sit with Jungkook and enjoy the food, unlike the hurried breakfasts and the lunch that you either eat together during his ‘break’ or just completely separately.

that’s why you got so annoyed whenever something distracted him from dinner; this was supposed to be your time together.

you crossed your arms, nostrils flaring while he was on the phone with Selene, a new employee of his that seemed to come to him whenever she was overwhelmed or unfamiliar with something at work.

you completely understood that this was a new job for her but you didn’t particularly like that she felt the need to call your husband outside of work; if she needed help, she could just ask any other employee.

it was excessive.

“Yes, i’ll tell Jason to bring a copy too”, jungkook spoke into the phone, his tone professional. “don’t worry about the presentation, the material you showed me today was good.”

fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you very passive aggressively poured juice into your glass and drank it.

“finally.”, you said once they hung up.

jungkook’s eyes narrowed a little but he didn’t say anything, he just scooped some more rice onto his plate.

“she just needed some help, baby.”, he explained after he noticed your sour expression wasn’t going anywhere.

“pf. why are you even talking to her outside of work? what’s so important that can’t wait until literally tomorrow morning?!”, you spewed, louder than intended. “and you just pick up, ugh. you should’ve ignored her but nooo, of course you had to pick up.. almost like that phone call is more important than having dinner with your wife.”

“yn.. that was a 2 minute conversation.”, he started getting more irritated by the second. “what are you even implying here? do you think i’m cheating on you cause i answered my employee’s phone call?”

“i don’t know, maybe you are.”

you were so obviously trying to push his buttons and see how far you can go; you wondered if he noticed or if he didn’t.

he knew you knew he would never ever cheat, perhaps that’s why the accusation irritated him even more.

“yn, don’t piss me off. you know damn well i would never cheat.”, he spoke with fire in his voice. “and why would i? you have enough personalities to keep me completely fucking occupied.”

it was true that you were a woman of multitudes and normally, you would have laughed at that statement but you could not give him the satisfaction.

you knew you were getting closer to your goal; he already looked like his veins were about to pop.

it wasn’t like he didn’t know how you were; he had to endure you every single day of his life, but he was bound to break eventually.

suppressing a smile, you simply huffed and stated, “that’s honestly hard to believe.”

jungkook’s nostrils flared and he looked down at you with an expression you hadn’t seen in months.

you were looking up at him with big eyes, your hand on your hips as you seized his reaction.

“yn..”, he fought the urge to raise his voice but ultimately lost. “i’m so serious right now, do not piss me off. i’ve been so damn patient with you.. i forgot that’s not the fucking way to deal with you..”

his hands were now gripping your waist tightly; if it hadn’t felt so damn good, it would probably hurt.

“what is the way to deal with me then?”, your voice was soft, almost angelic as you held eye contact with his fiery eyes.

“you know.”, he lowly spoke against your lips.

“no”, pushing him further and further, you held onto his muscular arm. “show me.”

that was when he crashed his lips into yours with a sense of desperation mirroring your own, his hands roaming your body like he memorized it. he gripped your ass hard, getting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

your baby bump wasn’t making any type of difficulty for either of you, thank God.

he carried you all the way to the couch and practically (yet very carefully) threw you onto it. he quickly took off your night gown and threw it aside, before taking off his own shirt.

“is that what you want?”, jungkook’s voice was now merely a growl as he started undoing his pants. “to get fucked hard? huh?”

his pants were off, leaving him in only his boxer shorts; the sight delicious.

the wetness in your pussy was almost unbearable at that point, even pressing your legs together didn’t help.

you nodded, reaching for his boxers and kneading his dick almost desperately, before completely taking them off, revealing his hard dick.

as horny and perverted as that sounded, there was almost nothing in the entire world you loved as much as seeing Jungkook like that. So in control, yet so needy for you.

there was already precum on the tip of it, you licked it off.

jungkook reacted with a groaned ‘fuck’.

you wrapped your hands around his thick shaft and massaged it up and down, then gently wrapped your full lips around it, sucking it while holding eye contact. his moans continued.

despite you barely being able to take all of him at the same time, he thrust his dick further and further into your mouth, making it difficult to breathe.

“you can take it, baby.”, he breathed, hands gripping your hair. “you run your mouth all day long, this shouldn’t be so hard for you.”

you let out a groan, pressing your legs tighter together.

Tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you enjoyed the feeling of his dick in your mouth. you moaned around it, big, innocent eyes meeting his.

he rammed his dick into your mouth in steady, aggressive motions, making you choke on it, causing your saliva to coat his dick.

the moans that he released were enough to make your head dizzy; you were nothing but mush.

your face was now a teary mess.

before he could cum, jungkook pulled back suddenly, his dick sliding out of your mouth and slapping gently against his lower abdomen. he grabbed your jaw and said, “i’m not gonna cum in your mouth.”

you knew what he was doing, he was being an asshole. he was aware of how much you loved swallowing his cum or even having his cum all over your face and he denied you of it. your brows furrowed just slightly.

You whimpered, the ache between your thighs unbearable. “Then where?”

he didn’t verbally respond, simply putting his big hands on your thighs and separating your legs roughly, making you gasp. he pushed two fingers inside your wet mess of a pussy without warning and started curling them teasingly.

“fuck”, he let out. “that pussy’s so fucking wet.. shit, you fucking love making me mad.”

you started desperately grinding against his fingers but he removed them before you could truly enjoy it, grabbing your jaw again and approaches your face so you’re facing each other directly, breathing against your lips. “open your mouth.”

you obeyed. then, he spit in your mouth.

“swallow it.”, he demanded.

you swallowed.

“good girl.”

“jungkook..”, you whimpered, overwhelmed by your own arousal, needy for any kind of friction.

jungkook just pressed his index finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet. “you don’t get to talk right now.”

that was what you were waiting for for a while; the sheer dominance and degradation that jungkook seemed to have shyed away from lately. you were craving the side of him that completely shut you down and put you in your place.

he pumped his dick before slightly bending his legs to teasingly slowly slap his dick on your wet pussy. your breath hitched and jungkook smirked at your state.

“i don’t think you deserve to get fucked.”, he declared after almost slipping his dick in, enjoying the power he had over you entirely too much. “good wives get dicked down.. the ones that obey their husbands.. and don’t drive them insane.. not spoiled brats like you who don’t know when to shut up.”

with every breath, he slipped his tip in and out, causing you to arch your hips up in desperation.

“please”, you begged with almost tears in your eyes. “i’m gonna be good, i’m gonna be so good, jungkook.”

jungkook laughed, almost evilly, and breathed through his teeth. “i don’t believe that.”

you reached for him and clung both your arms around the broad shoulders you were unhealthily obsessed with and hid your face in his chest.

you sniffled with teary eyes. “but i promise.. please.. please just put it in.”

with that he entered you, completely too slow for your liking. your head curled back at the pleasure.

he started thrusting very slowly, teasingly so, his breath getting heavier against your ear, before he began fastening the pressure.

the thrusts were so deep, he made sure to hit the spot right. his grip was almost unbearably strong, making your fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck.

his lips moved to your full breasts, taking your hard nipples in his mouth and sucking on them.

“still so fucking tight.”, he groaned, before crashing his lips against yours.

your whiny moans met his as he suddenly picked you up, his dick never slipping out.

before you could realize, your naked back hit a cold wall, making you gasp.

the angle made it easier for jungkook to completely plow into you mercilessly.

you were so lost in the moment, almost felt like you were in heat. you didn’t think, you couldn’t.

the sounds of slapping skin and wet arousal spread across the room.

jungkook slammed his hips against yours, his jaw clenched and his eyes dark with hunger. “don’t forget your place, yn. you exist to get fucked by your husband and do as he says, not disobey him.”

you knew this was all just sex talk, this wasn’t truly what he believed but God.. you wouldn’t be mad if it were. you instinctively clenched around him, replying with soft cries.

“shit.. look at you”, the strokes became harder with every second. “even pregnancy can’t stop you from being a dick crazy slut, huh?”

his pace was relentless, yet steady. he held onto your hips, controlling your movements, ensuring you take every single inch of him.

When all you could manage were broken, whiny moans, he seized your jaw in a tight grip and delivered a sharp slap across your cheek.

You gasped, the sting spreading warmly across your skin and you both knew you loved it.

“Answer me when I speak to you, fucking slut,” he growled, his fingers digging harder into your jaw.

“yes, jungkook.. please don’t stop.”, you whimpered with teary eyes. “i love that dick so much, ah.. i’m just.. a fucking whore for you.”

a wicked grin tugged at his lips as his thrusts became gradually slower, yet deeper.

“that’s right,” he growled, “that’s what you were made for, to get fucked and bred. the only thing you’re good for.”

you clutched his neck even tighter, hiding your fucked out face in his shoulders, moans spilling out shamelessly.

you could practically feel your pussy juice dripping on his dick, your body tightening against his as you felt your climax nearing.

“kookie..,” you whimpered, voice trembling, “please… don’t stop. I need you. I’m so close.”

he only nodded as he continued with the same force, driving you closer to the edge with every brutal thrust. a mixture of moans and sobs flooding the room.

your entire body tensed with the last couple of thrusts and waves of uncontrollable pleasure rushed through you, your pussy squeezing with urgency and then, your vision blurred, leaving you dizzy and breathless.

chest heaving heavily, “ah, ah, ah” and the intensity built up until you came undone blissfully, collapsing into a trembling mess.

a couple of seconds later, jungkook’s hips stuttered, signaling his own orgasm. his big hands left bruises on your hips, a rough growl leaving his lips, “fuck, fuck, fuck”. he fucked the last thrusts into you with force, his breath heavy. with a guttural groan, he spilled his hot, thick cum deep inside of you. he stayed buried inside longer, making sure every drop of cum entered your pussy.

your heartbeat was faster than ever, you felt (good) pain all over your body. before you could climb jungkook like a koala bear and demand him to carry you to your bedroom, he turned your still aching body around, your body facing the wall.

then, he slammed his heavy hand down on your ass.

“ouch!!”

“stop whining, you asked for this.”, he hissed, delivering another spank to your ass. “i told you to fucking behave.”

your whimpers were almost pathetic. you could never admit to him that you enjoyed the pain, but something told you he already knew. your pussy was still soaked, his fingers lightly brushing against it from the back while his palm met your generous backside.

“you’re so fucked out, you can’t even speak”, he whispered, now kneading your ass. “that’s how i fucking like you.. if i could fuck another baby in you right now, i would.”

you tried to suppress your moans, but failed.

His fingers grazed your slick folds, sending another shiver to your core, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your release.

He removed his hands completely and you turned around, too scared and turned on to look him directly in the face.

He caught your gaze and softened instantly, the fire in his eyes melting into something quieter, more tender.

“Come here,” Jungkook murmured, pulling you into his chest with surprising gentleness for a man who’d just wrecked you.

You melted against him, your breathing still uneven as his arms wrapped securely around your swollen belly and your trembling body.

the earlier degradation was replaced by his usual warmth.

You stayed like that for a long moment, your fingers tracing lazy circles over his back, both of you finally still.

Slowly, he carried you to the bed, careful and deliberate as if you were the most fragile thing in existence.

after cleaning up, the both of you settled under the soft blankets, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, your eyelids growing heavy.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” he whispered, lips brushing against your forehead.

“Goodnight, Kookie,” you breathed, already slipping toward sleep.

the next morning, jungkook woke up way too late. you were already awake; he couldn’t feel you when he sleepily slid his hand across your shared bed.

scenes of the night before played in his mind, causing a smile to spread on his handsome face.

looking at the clock, he couldn’t believe you wore him out so well that he woke up about three hours later than he usually did. he didn’t even care that he missed work; he was the ceo after all.

damn, that pussy truly got power.

after freshening up in the adjacent bathroom, he started hearing voices from downstairs; certainly more than just yours.

making his way downstairs, he found you in the dining room, surrounded by both of your mothers, animatedly talking about some new recipe you wanted to try.

his heart warmed at the sight. they must have dropped by unannounced or you might have forgotten to tell him they were visiting.

he immediately walked up to the three of you, greeting his mother and mother-in-law.

“good morning, ladies!”, he greeted, giving each one a kiss on the cheek.

and there you were, now quiet and admiring the interaction, looking beautiful in your yoga pants and that fitted shirt that did nothing to conceal your baby bump.

“and good morning to my beautiful wife”, he was practically beaming at you, approaching you with open arms. “and my future princess.”

he first kissed your lips and then, he squatted and lovingly put his hands on your bump.

“good morning, my handsome husband.”, you smiled up at him, your cheeks heating up from the flashbacks of last night. “you’re finally awake!”

both of your mothers knew what type of couple you were, even before pregnancy. they admired you two deeply.

“aren’t you supposed to be at work, jungkook?”, his mother’s playful voice broke the moment.

“I slept in”, his head was now resting on your shoulders from behind, his hands holding onto your waist. “this one kept me up all night.”

his suggestive tone made your moms laugh; they understood exactly what he meant. for you, It was embarrassing because, surprisingly, you're not as shameless as he was.

it wasn’t that big of a deal though, they could tell a couple of hours ago when you couldn’t stand properly from all the pain your body was still in.

jungkook immediately started eating breakfast like the food was going to run away, as per usual.

after a heated 15 minute discussion over the baby’s name, you decided to change the topic without hurting your moms’ feelings and just directly tell them you didn’t like any of the names they suggested.

“you two go sit on the couch, i’ll be right back with the tea and cakes”, you told them, not wanting them to lift a finger, despite their constant need to stand on their feet.

“i’ll help you”, jungkook insisted and followed you to the spacious kitchen. “when the hell did you have time to make cake?”

he asked you in such a confused tone, it almost made you laugh. did he forget you were at home basically the entire day?

“tsk.. acting like i don’t have all the time in the world”, you replied, cutting into the chocolate cake you knew jungkook’s mom would love. “taste this.”

without hesitation, he took a big bite.

“hmmm”, he took another bite and then another. “so good.”

you snatched the fork away from him with feigned offense. “leave some for the others.. greedy.”

he bursted into laughter at your offended face and pinched your cheeks. “i’m sorry.”

you looked at him and just breathed in the happiness; he was your husband, yours.

as long as he was yours, you didn’t care about anything else because there was nothing you wanted except for him to be with you.

you were so grateful for his existence, for his love, that life brought you together.. and it was always the most simple moments that made you appreciate him even more.

you put your head on his shoulders.

“Marry me.”, you whispered.

He blinked. “We’re already married.”

“Well, I wanna marry you again, Jungkook.”, desperation was evident in your voice. “Please.”

and then, he got on his knees, taking your hand in his, a goofy smile on his face. “yn jeon, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife again?”

you teared up, getting on your knees with much effort and engulfed him in a hug, gripping his arms like you’re never letting go of him.

“yes, yes, yes. a million times, yes.”

i love writing unserious stuff honestly 😭 hope you enjoy this!!! 😘��💗

684 notes · View notes

stxrvel · 11 months ago

Text

injustice (3)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader. content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! a lot of curse words, a lot of self-deprecation and low self esteem. no proofread. this is nawt silly writing, we're diving right into the aNgSt. jumpscare? iykyk a/n. hi guys! this was a rollercoaster for me to write, but i hope it doesn't come as harsh as i think it is. pls let me know what you think in the comments!! see you next week!!

series masterlist | bts masterlist | previous | next

You had gone through a scenario like that in your head several times. A variety of moments, conversations and looks that always ended in the same unpleasant, inevitable and demoralizing way: you were forgotten by the people you loved most in the world. Only when you reached 18 would you realize how heartbreaking the dull thud of the silence of indifference was, how sharp and icy the loneliness was, how it penetrated and paralyzed your bones; but at that time, at 16, you could still convince yourself that all those things were only in your head and would always be there.

“Now that you're the last to go, you guys are much more likely to forget about me.”

“Of course not! In fact, as soon as I start earning money I'll save up to take you with us.”

Jungkook shook his head, his narrowed eyes judging you as if having insecurities was a sin. You believed his words at that moment, because being the last one still with you, 'cause you were going to graduate from school in the same year, it was the only thing you could do. Hold on to the idea that you really weren't going to be forgotten, because the mere conception of a future without your best friends was inconceivable.

“Jimin-hyung said he was going to try to call more often,” your friend went on, his eyes fixed on the bass on his lap and his important task of leaving it neat before returning it to its holy post in the school's music room. “I haven't talked to them in about three days.”

Jimin and Taehyung had left just a couple of months ago, but thanks to the opportunities opened to them with their incredible willingness, discipline and some string twitching on Namjoon's part, they had managed to get into a great academy to train and fulfill their dreams.

That also brought with it, as irreversible side effects, that your communication with them was drastically reduced. You had to constantly remind yourself and Jungkook that it was out of their control. With their future at stake, there was something for which they had to exert extreme effort and for which to sacrifice some other things.

“It's normal that they don't have as much time as they used to, Kookie.” You lowered your head, noticing the way his hands delicately handled the instrument on his legs. Since Jimin and Taehyung had left there was no time of day when you could tear yourself away from Jungkook, which is why you accompanied him to his extracurricular music lessons when you really should have been studying for the college entrance exam. “Life after school gets really hectic.”

“I've heard that college life is quieter.” Jungkook twisted his lips, wiping between the strings and his fingerprints left on the bass every time he moved it back and forth to clean it. It was an almost irresistible cycle.

“The only one at college right now is Seokjin and even about him we haven't heard much.” You leaned back against the piano, noticing Jungkook's movements pause for a moment as he surely reminisced about the few times he had been able to talk to Jin that month.

It had been two years since Seokjin had graduated and traveled all the way to the capital to study medicine. Needless to say, it was more than clear that communication with Jin would be almost nil from then on, but Jungkook always used to pout about it.

“It's just that Jin-hyung also chose a rather demanding career.” Jungkook twisted his lips, as if suppressing Jin in his head, waving the microfiber towel over the edges of the bass.

“And the others are trying too hard to carve their way through. It can be as complicated as going out to look for a job right after graduating.”

Jungkook nodded, admiring his cleaning job with a frown. He looked so focused that it caught you by surprise when he spoke again.

“You already know if you're going to college, noona? We're graduating this year.”

You blinked once, twice, three times. His nonchalant self went back to waving the towel over nonexistent smudges as you breathed in and decided not to go that route. “Will you?”

Jungkook raised his head, pausing his movements for a moment to try to analyze your gaze. With a sigh, he let out your poorly disguised way of shifting the focus of the conversation to get up and hang the instrument, glowing, on the wall of the music room.

“I don't know yet… Namjoon-hyung says he can help me.”

“Isn't it your dream, why do you doubt it?”

“I'm not sure, noona. What if I don't measure up? What if I fail?”

When your friend turned away, the mirror to his soul showed his vulnerability dancing on the edge of his eyelids. His distrust constricted your heart, a hand closing around your throat at the inner conflicts you knew Jungkook used to have and in the face of which you often couldn't do anything about because he didn't usually share such things.

“Then you try again.”

“Noona…” Jungkook wanted to grumble, it was obvious from the way his eyes moved to the ceiling, his head cocking as if he was about to give you a big life lesson on why you can't survive on motivational phrases.

But Jungkook was a softie about such things, even if he tried to hide it.

“Jungkook, you are literally a golden promise. No process is ever easy, especially in the industry you want to get into, but don't think for a second that you're going to outgrow it. You're one of the most capable people I've ever met.”

Your friend stopped his steps, when after hanging up the bass he was returning to your post in front of you, raising his head as if caught committing a prank. But the vulnerability in his eyes remained, and by the way they shone in the dim light of the room, still blinking to try to contain the emotion, you knew your words had tugged at just that thorn in his heart you were trying to pull out.

“Thank you, noona.”

“I'm just telling the truth.” You lifted a shoulder, shaking your head nonchalantly like it was no big deal, and Jungkook just let out an amused chuckle.

“You do know we'd never forget about you, right? How could we?”

“How could we?”

Yuna shook her head, frowning at her phone, oblivious to the way you cringed at her choice of words.

“She's bringing celebrities into the store and she want us to leave? Don't we work so well that we always take the top employee of the month spot even though it should only be held by one person? Don't we deserve that gift?”

You watched her, marveling at how after just a few seconds so many emotions could build up into an overwhelming knot in your chest. The old notes of an old piano played in the back of your head, bringing to the surface memories of when life was easier; when you thought you had it all and nothing would ever be better than that; when you thought you were enough.

“So what do you plan to do about it?” you blinked, focusing on the notation of bills in your notebook with an invisible hand squeezing your heart.

There was no use thinking about such things after so long.

Yuna pursed her lips, her expression serious and forceful. “I think we should have a sit-in.”

“We should? That sounds like more than one person.”

“Do you disagree with me?”

“I'm happy with going home early, especially on a Friday, you know?”

“y/n,” Yuna came up to your face over the cash register display case, her forearms resting on the glass and her eyes so bright with determination you were sure her head could light the whole store on fire the way she was scheming and scheming, running around like her life depended on it, “we could be close to meeting the seven gods of Olympus, and you think the best thing to do is go home?”

“Just in case you forgot, I have a business to run now.” You reminded her, moving to poke her with your middle finger all over her forehead and push her away from the cash register now that a new customer had come in.

“What business should a business matter when you could meet the reason for existence itself?”

Yuna dropped onto the display case, her body sliding like jelly until only her head was left on the glass. You and the new customer watched her, her arms limp at her sides and her gaze lost. A lone tear running down the bridge of her nose.

“God, you're so dramatic.”

“Does that mean yes?” Her head snapped up like a spring, a big smile scaring the soul out of the customer who ducked behind your friend to run for their order.

“No and stop acting like that, you're going to scare away customers.”

Yuna whined, her exaggerated tantrum leading you to wiggle your feet all the way to the cellar.

“I'm offering you the holy grail, and this is how you pay me?”

The sound of her feet shuffling behind you kept your head sane. Even though his insinuations were baseless, your heart was pounding so hard you felt your ribs throbbing through your muscles and skin.

Your boss had written to Yuna that you two could leave the store early today because she had a private meeting to attend. She asked them to leave everything to Patrick, including clearing the store of customers and not to worry about paying for the shift, because there would be no discount at the end of the month. Yuna was faithfully and blindly convinced that your boss really wanted you to stay, because she spent almost ten minutes with her eyes glued to the screen almost without blinking, watching the 'typing…' appear and disappear under your boss's contact name. 'I'm sure she's debating how much confidence she has in us…', she said as her red eyes missed no detail of that important chat and that primordial moment, ending in an offended 'none!' when her last message came through.

In the same way, Yuna convinced herself that the meeting that would take place in the same place where your feet were planted was going to be attended by the seven entertainment kings of the country. The unmentionables, for all practical purposes. Where had she come to that conclusion? There was no foundation. Had your boss given any hints? None. Yuna had her head in the clouds believing she could meet her idols if she insisted a little longer.

“Would you really prefer to stand your friend up to meet seven men you don't even know for sure will show up here?”

“Well…if you put it that way it sounds like I'm doing something wrong.”

“Mmm, you just figured that out?”

Yuna dropped her shoulders as you took off your apron. Her tactics weren't going to work and it was time to give up. She half-heartedly opened her locker and stood looking at you with puppy dog eyes. You felt as guilty as if you had stepped on her tail by accident.

“Look, if I'm being honest, I doubt gigantically that Sol will tell you that you can stay if you ask her.”

“Not even for everything we've been through together?”

“She's still our boss, Yuna.”

Your friend mimicked your actions with a slower speed, her emotion draining away little by little. When her head cocked to the side, halfway through taking off her apron, you only sighed.

“The worst that can happen is I get fired, right?”

You weren't surprised that she was nevertheless willing to cross that line.

“That doesn't sound like much to you?”

“I can always write her a 'ha, ha, just joking' afterwards and get out of harm's way.”

You didn't contain the irresistible urge to roll your eyes and Yuna took that as her own signal or green light. Next thing you knew she was pulling out her phone and typing animatedly on the screen.

“I really don't think you should do that.”

“I have to try! Can I call myself a good fan if I don't do even the impossible?”

“You don't even know if they'll come.”

“I have a hunch.”

With her hand over her heart, Yuna sent the message and you feared for her life. While Sol was not at all close to the idea and conceptualization of a crazy and ruthlessly demanding boss, she did draw the line at several specific situations that they had both learned to respect. One of those was, of course, private meetings at her place. You and Yuna had set up the place countless times for Sol to sit quietly and chat with her most famous acquaintances, because her office was too formal to deal with them there, but her own home was extremely informal for the same purpose. The cafeteria served as a middle ground, the perfect place to be comfortable when talking business.

“Patrick is coming.” Yuna spoke again and by the way her eyes didn't leave the screen you could tell Sol hadn't responded yet.

“I wish you the best of luck, Yuna.”

“Thank you! Coming from you it's a blessing, indeed.”

“And why's that?”

You finally stood up, closing your locker with your strap bag over your right shoulder. You were ready to leave while your friend was still biting her index fingernail waiting for an almost impossible and inconceivable message from her boss.

“What else can I expect from the writer who blew up overnight and is soon going to be one of the New York Times bestsellers and famous worldwide?”

“Ah,” you turned your head, unable to contain inwardly the way a warmth settled in your chest; you still had a hard time accepting how things had turned out, but as long as you couldn't control the influx of orders that had to take a back seat, “smooth.”

Yuna smiled and when her eyes met yours you swore she was about to tell you one more time how proud she was of you, but her phone vibrated in her hands and the last thing you saw her eyes widen exaggeratedly before her scream shook the foundations of the store and almost the entire city.

“SHE SAID YES!!!!”

Arriving home unleashed immeasurable chaos.

As soon as you opened the front door, a river of books fell like dominoes, with your father's groans and your mother's screams in the background, the sound of your work echoing in your head like lightning as stomping echoed through the house.

“Seojun, I told you to be careful walking…!”The angry expression on your mother's face disappeared the moment she recognized your face, her features softening as she knew it was her daughter. “Honey. What are you doing here so early?”

“Is that y/n?” your dad's exclamation rang out from the kitchen.

“Yes!” your mom yelled back.

The welcome was nice, but things only got more and more tedious from then on. On the one hand, you had your father telling you about accounts, numbers and multiplications of how much you had to take out of your pocket to pay for the prints, how much you would make if you sold all the books you had printed and how much you would get back, and on the other hand you had your mother telling you about the countless publishers who had written to your dm's seeking to sponsor the sale of your books, taking advantage of the boom that had been generated by the phenomenon that was Kim Taehyung.

Seojun, who had decided to move back home for the weekend to help with whatever was needed, was telling you that they had had to hire five different deliverymen -three of them trucks- to be able to deliver as many orders a day as possible, while vehemently hitting your father's forearm to remind him to include that in the accounts.

Your father was in charge of everything related to money, your mother of the direct communication with customers and Seojun of the orders; everything was done by them, with Yuna's help when she was not working, with the excuse that after so many years you just had to sit down and enjoy the fruit of your sowing without any worries.

But at that moment, when they had just let go and thrown all their worries at your feet, they stared at you expectantly.

"We need a loan."

Your mother jumped in her chair. "That's what I said!"

"That's not necessary." Your father shook his head, as he surely would have done when your mother suggested the idea judging by the expression that had planted itself on her face. "Take a loan from my wallet, but don't do business with those bankers. They'll gouge your eyes out with interest."

"Or take a publisher's offer. They'll take care of all this." Seojun pointed out, his long black hair brushing his eyebrows even though he shook it nonchalantly so he could get a good look at the three of them.

"Publishers can be freeloaders too." Your mother counter-argued, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Oh, yeah? How many publishers have you signed on with to assert that?"

"Wow, careful with that tone, Mr. Lawyer." Your father pointed at your brother, while your mother only raised an eyebrow at him in response. Seojun sank into the chair, barely dragging an apology through his teeth.

"It's not a bad idea either, Dad."

His brown eyes returned to meet your gaze and you noticed the hesitation in them.

"Well, ultimately, it's your decision, honey."

Your mother squeezed your shoulder.

"I say we should listen to the lawyer."

"Hey!" Seojun frowned, straightening up on the chair. "Don't put such a big responsibility on me!"

Your father snorted. "But then weren't you comfortable a while ago giving orders and saying that I don't know what thing you had already seen it in class and that's why you knew what we had to do?"

"Dad…" Seojun elongated.

"Are you ready for such a position or not, Seojun? Tell me to start looking for another lawyer."

Your mother barely contained her laughter, only because of the offended sideways glance her own son sent her way. Laughter blossomed in your chest, too, like a big breath of fresh air in a field of flowers. You didn't know you needed that moment so badly until the tension disappeared from your shoulders as you laughed with your parents and your brother grumbled with his arms crossed.

A new batch of orders just went out - thank you so much for your purchases!

You looked at the story your mom had uploaded to Instagram in the solitude of your bedroom. The rest of the day was spent strategizing and planning marketing ideas that would likely lead you to ruin. In a defeated silence, you admitted that Yuna was really needed.

You had texted your friend a while ago, as the sunset was beginning to paint the sky with colors, but she still hadn't even checked her phone. Her last connection was a few minutes after you left at noon. You decided not to insist, even though you were a little curious about who had finally shown up at the store.

The best thing about that busy rest of the afternoon was that you'd been able to keep yourself busy enough to completely ignore the way you'd been whipped up by a few memories that morning in Yuna's company. A simple question had caused all that. And of course, with a heart as weak as a chick's and willpower almost non-existent, you let yourself be pulled right in that moment of loneliness into the well of memories.

“Jungkookie?”

Your voice pierced the silence and a shiver ran through your body as the darkness greeted you back. A few minutes passed after you plunged into the completely darkened room, walking tentatively and slowly inside, you heard a movement just outside the door you had just entered.

“Noona…”

You couldn't see him, but you didn't need to. The sobs that filled the room were enough to be able to guide you through that darkness, as indistinguishable as coal, and wrap your arms around his hunched figure on the floor beside the door.

The house was alone and as dark as that room the last night Jungkook would be there. Passing through the empty corridors of his house was a torment, but you could only imagine how your friend would feel in his place, unable to stop time as it slipped through his fingers.

Several times he had already told you that he didn't want to leave. You didn't think he meant it.

“They're waiting for you downstairs.”

“I know. I don't want to go, noona.” Jungkook moved his arms to wrap around your waist in a desperate grip, his erratic breathing against your neck breaking your heart. “I want to stay. It doesn't matter if I never become an idol. That's not important.”

“Jungkook…”

“I don't want to leave you…”

His halting voice was barely understandable, trying to be muffled by the jacket you were wearing that night when you went to see him off and didn't find him in the car with his parents. The heater seemed not to be a worthy opponent for that cold night.

“Jungkook, you're not going to leave me. We'll keep in touch. Why do you worry so much?”

“I don't want to be like them,” his pained voice pierced your chest; the movement of his body from the way the sobs were attacking him was almost uncontainable. “I don't want this distance.”

“Change is always hard, Jungkookie, but I promise you we'll be in touch always. I'll do my best to make it so.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I'll even come visit you as soon as I can.”

“No. I said I was going to pay for your trip.”

“See? You're not going to leave me.”

“Still I'm scared, noona. What if I'm not enough for them? What if I can't raise enough for you to come live with us?”

“You are enough, Jungkook. From the tips of your fingers to the tips of your hair, there's nothing about you that won't allow you to achieve your dreams, understand? You are destined to be a star. I know it's hard to leave behind everything you know in life, but believe me it will all be worth it. You will come out on top and you will succeed.”

“Noona…” Jungkook cried again, burying his face in your neck once more, clinging to you like the anchor that carried him to the surface of the ocean; the ocean shaped by his own tears. “I… don't… want… to… go…”

The hiccups that attacked him from his intense crying made it difficult for him to speak and you hadn't felt such pain even when the other boys left. There were tears shared, promises whispered and hugs that lasted longer than they should have, but no one had clung to your body as if they feared you were going to disappear at any moment and wanted to seize every second before the impending end.

“It's okay, Jungkookie,” you ran your hands up and down his back trying to calm his crying, trying to control your own as treacherous tears rolled down your cheeks with the darkness as your witness. “We'll meet again. You can wait for me. Then we can melt into another embrace and say how much we miss each other.”

Your phone vibrated on the bed, the notification startling you with its aggressiveness. Another vibration followed that one and then another. Turning on the screen, you found that half an hour had passed since you'd last seen the clock, and in passing you came across Yuna's name on the caller ID. You sighed, remembering the effusiveness with which she said goodbye in the afternoon and mentally preparing yourself for what was to come.

"Hey," you greeted, mildly surprised that her exclamations hadn't reached your ear first to interrupt your greeting.

"y/n, how were sales today?" her calm voice filled your hearing and a slight wrinkle implanted itself between your brows.

"Mmm, it was all good. We have several domiciliary and the prints are coming out with the deadlines arranged. With Seojun we considered that maybe taking on a publisher wouldn't be so bad, but I'm not sure yet."

You narrowed your eyes at the ceiling, shallowly biting your nails, waiting for the moment when Yuna would burst out, but it didn't come.

"Oh, yeah. We'll have to consider that. I'll go early tomorrow morning to seize the day." Yuna answered quietly, with the faint sound of things stirring in the background of the call. Surely she had just arrived at her apartment.

"Yuna?"

"Mhm?"

"How was the afternoon?"

"Oh, it was normal, really," she replied, her voice flat, as if the thought had barely crossed her mind since the moment she'd left the coffee shop. "I didn't see anyone memorable."

"Ah, so your knights in shining armor didn't attend?"

"Sadly, no." Yuna sighed, her unchanging attitude finding a little more sense in your head. She sounded more tired than anything.

You talked a bit more with Yuna before she excused herself to go about her evening routine and finally get some rest, specifically stressing to you how boring the whole afternoon had been and how every second she only thought about going home. You also told her a bit more about the ideas you and your father had half-heartedly spun as marketing strategies, but very earnestly your friend asked you not to do anything until she was there.

When her name disappeared from your caller ID, an Instagram notification popped up at the top of your home screen. The vibration felt like the pounding of a sledgehammer against wood, your sentence handed down with no chance of appeal, the blood in your veins freezing and an endless emptiness in the pit of your stomach.

jeonjungkook97 just followed you!

It was followed by the notification of a message from Yuna.

Unnie | 19:01 holy shit. jungkook just followed you on ig, right?

No fucking way. Another fucking account to block.

It wasn't like you couldn't deal with them. You had been doing it for about ten years. But now they just seemed to want to throw themselves in front of your face one by one and you weren't strong enough to handle that. Maybe your resolve needed to be more forceful; maybe you should be sure you hated them instead of feeling like your body was shaking and you could melt like jelly in the sun every time you felt they were one step closer to you. For a while, that was all you wanted; to find them; to be found. But now…?

The weekend was spent in a hodgepodge of managing your book sales and the seesaw of emotions you had in the face of the estranged but impactful actions of your old friends. You tried not to think about it too much; you really tried, but it was very difficult. It was easier to let the memories wash over you instead of diligently packing up the books on which you had squandered your blood and tears.

Your books, yes, that was the most important thing.

From the posts and hashtags, even though it had only been a couple of days, you could see that some people -those who had actually read the books- were already posting their opinions and reviews and you knew you had had plenty of time to prepare for that moment, but you really weren't ready to face it. You didn't know what it was; whether it was the pollen, the aligned planets, PMS, mercury retrograde… but all of those things were weighing you down too much recently and you weren't ready to hear the opinions.

And you couldn't help but keep asking yourself why? Having spent so much time, between so many experiences and so many personal changes, why now they decided that they would come back into your life? How dare they after ruining your life by completely abandoning you? Many times you wondered what was missing in you; what was never enough for them… sometimes you believed that this was how it was meant to be; just the seven of them, before you came along. It was always them seven first, then you.

Between lows and highs, between sadness and joy, you still had to keep working.

"Get rid of that face if you're not going to tell me what's wrong with you." Yuna crossed the cafeteria in front of you, picking up some glasses and plates on the table as lunchtime approached.

"I don't have any face."

"You've been in a somber mood since Saturday. You look dead."

You clicked your tongue, taking advantage of the fact that the store was nearly empty to do the math. "Don't be over the top."

"I'm just being honest and genuinely concerned about my friend, can you blame me?" Yuna reached the sink and simply left the dishes there to approach the cash register. Your eyes refused to meet hers, unsheathing a strange annoyance in the pit of your stomach.

"I'm fine," you moved the money automatically, doing the math in the back of your head as second nature, "don't worry so much."

"Ok, if you don't want to tell me about it at least try to distract yourself a little, why don't you take an extra half hour for lunch?"

"You know I can't do that."

"Sol would never know."

"I'm not going to do that."

Yuna pouted, dropping her chin onto the back of her hand. You knew she was about to fly you out of that chair the moment all the bills were safeguarded.

A whiplash of pain shot through your chest at the alternative of having to leave the cafeteria, alone, hovering with your thoughts once again, as you tried to shove the food down your throat. But Yuna happily dragged you out of the cafeteria, leaving you in the middle of the street with your little bag and lunch money, wishing you a happy break as she wandered off once more to deal with the sparse crowd of customers alone.

Maybe you should have told her you'd rather not eat than be alone, but…

That was the story of your life.

So you walked to that restaurant a couple of blocks away, where they sold the cheapest food in the area, and waited patiently while answering Yuna's messages to clear your mind.

Going through your social networks, you once again came across the cover of your books in the pre-viewing of a video and felt the bile in your throat. Let's see, you were happy. Or well, you were trying to convince yourself because you still had that bitter feeling in the pit of your stomach that wouldn't let you enjoy this blast like you should and it had a first and last name of its own. But, generally speaking, it was great that your books were selling, forgetting all the other circumstances that led to that happening.

So, standing in front of those videos, you were tormented by not being able to watch them. A self-published author should be prepared for that kind of thing. No, any author should be. Sharing your art with the world implicitly entailed confronting the world's expression in front of it. It was inevitable, of course, and it was also the energy that could start an engine or the fingers that put out the match. At that precise moment, you still didn't want to know what your destiny was.

You hated that. You hated feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. Why was life so heavy if you had just begun to live it?

Ah, too much pondering for one lunch.

And to think this all started with an Instagram story.

Having an existential crisis because you couldn't stand dealing with the stress and pressure of the extreme demand you were having and because of mixed feelings for a bunch of idiots resurfacing after so many years was one of the last things you thought you'd have to go through that year. Fuck, or ever in your entire life.

Taehyung might have done you a favor as well as a disservice.

But that's how you spent a while longer, as you walked back to the coffee shop, the noise of the city not being enough to quell the bustle of thoughts crashing against each other in your head.

Being in the eye of the hurricane, however, didn't mean you were safe. You barely had a breath of fresh air before the eyewall hit you hard once again.

"Noona…?"

You froze a few steps away from the cafeteria. You feared not only the way you immediately recognized the voice, but the way your body froze, fear, panic and uncertainty clouding your sense.

You were in the alley behind the coffee shop. You didn't usually go in that way, but you had taken a slightly longer way back, only because you were too busy thinking about whether or not your body was up to a longer walk.

You were so close to the door that you could almost hear Yuna's voice on the other side, barely muffled by the beeping that echoed in your ears as panic took over your body.

You didn't want to turn around. Your body was having every possible negative reaction, as if it was fighting an infection, the lunch you had just shoved down your throat seeking to make its way back into your mouth and the feeling of dizziness momentarily clouded you.

Was this how you planned to react if you ever saw them again? Was this how you acted out the scenarios you imagined in your head at night when your memories went back to the last time you saw them?

The only difference between those imaginings and what was happening at that moment was that before you could prepare yourself; you knew what was coming; you had control. Now? Your legs were about to give out, the weight of your body too much to bear.

And you wanted to mock the pathetic behavior you were engaging in. You should turn around, slap him and scream at him that you never wanted to see him again. But your heart was beating and feeling and… how could you deny it anything after so many years of being neglected?

But maybe you were imagining it. The little sleep you had this weekend and all the memories you dragged from the trunk since you saw that Instagram notification must have made you crazy enough that you heard voices, his voice, anywhere… you were still near a busy street, it could be anyone-

"y/n."

And, yet…

You didn't turn around knowing what it would entail to give his voice a face, even though you could madly and frankly recall every line of its length, and you spoke harshly through your teeth even though your labored breathing made your chest heave.

"What are you doing here?"

"Noona… you're really here."

You cringed as you heard his footsteps and clutched with inhuman speed at the lock on the door in front of you.

"I asked you a fucking question: what the fuck do you think you're doing here?"

The silence didn't give you an answer, but you could glimpse it. With your patience on edge and years of emotional repression it was impossible for you to deduce how you would react in such a case, but it didn't seem too far-fetched, even if Jungkook's surprised inspiration said he didn't expect you to be so harsh and rude.

As if you cared.

—Yes you did care, in fact, that's why your heart was beating wildly against your ribs, the choking sensation increasing, the nerves on edge and the tears all over the corners of your eyes, but you had to stand your ground. After so, so long… why, why, why, why?—

"I… I…" Jungkook seemed to be having trouble finding his voice, even though in his profession the words came melodiously and easily out of his mouth. If you turned to look at him, you might have noticed that his face went from happiness to anguish with the speed a bullet goes through a field, "I wanted to see you…"

He sounded so small. The five-foot-ten-plus man, who you're sure was almost a head and a half taller than you, might as well have been a badly wounded puppy behind you. You knew from the way he spoke that he was holding back tears, but you didn't let that sway you. He didn't deserve it.

"Who gave you the right to come here?"

You didn't let him answer, not knowing if he was even going to, tightening the lock on the door you were about to walk through at any moment, bile in your throat making you fear the fall as if you were at the top of a skyscraper.

"How the fuck did you even find me?"

"Well, I-"

"I don't fucking want to know!"

You cut him off, the dryness and venom in your voice making you tremble. You were so sad, so distraught and so angry at the same time.

"And I don't want to see you. So leave."

"Noona…"

"Fucking leave, Jeon, for fuck's sake!"

You moved, almost as if by inertia, opening the door and slamming it behind you, the noise so deafening that it echoed in your ears for several seconds until you heard Yuna's footsteps approaching you and felt her arms wrap around your body.

You didn't know what she was saying, you just leaned against the door and let yourself fall, your body shaking in cry after uncontrollable cry, truly wondering how everything had gone so far; wondering how, after so many years, you still allowed them to have that power over you; a power they didn't deserve and shouldn't have.

You felt shattered in that moment, every piece of you scattered in the hold, every moment of your life replaying on its glassy, sharp edges. Even with half of you staying afloat, Yuna held you until the tears stopped flowing and with renewed resolve you promised yourself that this was never going to happen again.

Jungkook had taken you by surprise, but from now on none of them would ever catch you off guard.

a/n: i dont really know what to think about this chap. sometimes i like it sometimes i dont. i guess thats just how it works. pls letme know what you think! thank u for all the support! <3

tag: @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos @pastelpeachess @parapiop7 @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthings @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @saintomie @damn-u-min-yoongi @juju-227592 @yoongznme @queenbloody @leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesworld @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison

782 notes · View notes

daegudrama · 26 days ago

Text

Title: Suck It Part 2

Pairing: Reader/Jung Hoseok

Word Count: 18.7k

Part 1

You leave the next morning and fly straight to San Antonio. You link up with the rest of the dancers at the hotel, and Yunjin is as bubbly as ever, telling you about her friend’s dog and the late-night tacos they found near their place.

It’s almost comforting, how normal everything seems.

Until show day.

You spot Hoseok again in the chaos of the arena. His hair is done, outfit already set for act one. He’s standing across the room when you walk in, adjusting an earpiece. For a second, you think maybe, just maybe, he’ll say something.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t even look at you.

Backstage buzzes with pre-show energy, and no one seems to notice the space between you. You smile when you’re supposed to. Laugh when someone tells a dumb joke, but your stomach churns every time he walks by without a word.

And when it’s time for your duet, the difference is impossible to ignore.

Your bodies move in perfect sync, like they always have, but something’s shifted. There's no eye contact. No spark. Just precise movement and silence. It’s technically flawless, maybe even breathtaking, but it feels hollow. Like a beautiful shell with the soul scooped out.

The crowd doesn’t notice. They scream just the same. But you do, and when the lights go down and the applause echoes, it’s not adrenaline you’re feeling.

It’s heartbreak.

You’re backstage, towel pressed to your neck, still catching your breath from the final number. Everyone around you is glowing with cheeks flushed, laughing, buzzing from the high of another successful show.

But you feel…muted.

You walk through the corridors of the arena with your head down, avoiding the spot where you and Hoseok usually high-five after the duet. He’s not there anyway. You’re not sure he even waited. Maybe he slipped away as soon as the curtain closed.

In the dressing room, you sit on the floor near your bag, trying to convince yourself that you're being dramatic. It was just a kiss. One kiss. People kiss all the time. People make mistakes all the time. It shouldn’t be this heavy. But the problem is, it didn’t feel like a mistake. Not when it was happening.

You close your eyes, forehead pressing against your knees, and you can still feel the warmth of his hand on your back. The way he tilted your chin. The breath you both shared just before everything tilted into something electric.

It was real. You know it was real.

His hand had trembled. Just slightly. You hadn’t imagined that.

And the things he said, you're so pretty, and funny, and smart, those hadn’t felt like some throwaway excuse. They’d felt honest. Emotional. Like they’d been building up in him for a while and just finally cracked the surface.

You sigh. Hard. Maybe it’s stupid. Maybe you are just another dancer to him. Maybe he panicked and backpedaled because he realized he’d crossed a line. But then why look at you like that? Why kiss you like he didn’t want it to end?

You blink quickly, throat tightening as you hear laughter echo down the hallway from the others.

You’re not new to crushes. You’ve had your share of infatuations. But this…this is different. It feels different. It felt like something blooming, and now it's just silence.

You whisper to yourself, “God, I’m so stupid.”

But deep down, a voice you can't silence murmurs, No. You’re not. Because that kiss meant something.

A security guard appears in the hallway just as you're zipping up your warmup jacket. You're still reeling from the performance which was technically solid, but emotionally dull. Something’s missing, or rather, someone.

“Come with me,” the guard says, voice low.

You frown, confused, especially when the rest of the dancers glance your way with subtle side-eyes. You feel the heat of their curiosity even after you fall into step behind the guard. You open your mouth to ask where you're going, but he doesn’t answer until you’re a good distance away from the others.

“Hoseok’s dressing room,” he finally says under his breath.

Your heart trips over itself. You don’t say anything, just nod and try to keep your face neutral, though your thoughts are anything but. Is he going to pretend the kiss never happened again? Is this damage control?

The security guard knocks twice and then opens the door, gesturing you in. Hoseok is already inside. He’s alone, sitting on a couch, bent over with his elbows on his knees and his hands tangled in his hair. He looks up when you enter, eyes bloodshot and heavy, like he hasn’t slept.

He stands quickly. “Thanks,” he mutters to the guard, who nods once and pulls the door shut behind you.

Silence stretches, tense and uncertain. You stand there awkwardly, trying to read his expression. He’s not smiling. He’s not even looking directly at you.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally, voice rough. “For kissing you.”

You flinch. That stings more than it should.

But then he adds, “Kissing you was not a mistake. But it was inappropriate.”

You blink at him, mouth slightly open.

He runs a hand through his hair again. “I wanted to kiss you. God, I wanted to—but I shouldn’t have. Not with the power dynamics. Not when we were both a little buzzed. I’m your boss, and that was out of line. Especially in the middle of a tour.”

You stare at him, stunned. Not just by the words, but by how much it seems to be tearing him up.

“That’s it?” you say softly. “You wanted to kiss me, but now it’s just…what, buried?”

“I don’t want this to affect the rest of the tour,” he says, voice gentle now, almost pleading. His eyebrows are knitted together. “You’ve worked too hard. I’ve worked too hard. We can’t let a kiss throw all of that off course.”

Your chest tightens. “But it wasn’t just a kiss. It meant something. At least…it did to me.”

His face twists like that hurts him, and you keep going before you lose your nerve.

“I wanted to kiss you too, Hoseok. That wasn’t just you getting carried away. That kiss…it made me feel something I haven’t felt in a really long time. It made me feel good. Alive.” You step forward. “And I want to do it again.”

He looks like he’s caught between wanting to bolt and wanting to reach for you.

And then you add, voice a whisper, “Do you?”

His lips part like he’s about to argue again. “That doesn’t make it right. Just because we both wanted it doesn’t mean—” He stops short when you slowly cross the room and sit beside him on the couch.

Close, but not quite touching.

He turns his head toward you, and you see the war in his eyes. The way his jaw tightens like he’s trying to hold the boundary in place with sheer willpower. But you also see the hesitation crack under the weight of how much he wants to just give in.

He tries again, quieter this time, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. “I’m supposed to set an example. There’s a line—”

You tilt your head and meet his gaze. “I think you’ve been setting one. You’ve been kind. You’ve been professional. You’ve taken care to make sure I’m comfortable. Even when I was bleeding under my costume.”

He swallows hard at that.

“I’m not asking for anything dramatic,” you say. “I’m just saying…you kissed me, I kissed you back, and neither of us regretted it. That doesn’t have to ruin everything.”

Hoseok exhales shakily and looks down at his hands, like he’s trying to anchor himself.

“I’m terrified,” he murmurs.

You blink. “Of what?”

He finally looks up again, voice barely above a whisper. “That I already care more than I should.”

Your breath catches.

There’s silence for a moment as your heart thuds so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. Then, slowly, gently, you reach over and cover his hand with yours. Neither of you speaks. He doesn't pull away, and you can feel the exact second he stops resisting the pull between you.

He turns his hand over and threads his fingers through yours.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The green room is buzzing with the usual pre-show energy, laughter, final stretches, a couple dancers running counts in the mirror. You’re finishing your warmup near the benches, tying the last lace on your sneakers when it happens.

Mina walks by, just close enough to catch your foot with hers. You stumble forward with a sharp gasp and catch yourself on your hands, the thud of your body hitting the floor cutting through the noise in the room.

Everything goes quiet for a beat. People freeze mid-stretch, mid-laugh.

Then Mina has the audacity to scoff. “God, you’re such a klutz,” she says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Still not sure how you ended up on this team.”

You push yourself up slowly, heart pounding. Not from the fall, but from the humiliation blooming hot and fast under your skin, but before you can say anything, a low voice cuts through the room like a blade.

“Mina,” Hoseok says.

Everyone turns.

He’s standing by the door with a water bottle in one hand, his jaw locked tight, eyes burning. There’s a tense silence as he walks into the room, the shift in energy is immediately charged.

“I’ve overlooked your attitude for weeks because I wanted to believe you could rise to the occasion,” he says, his tone cool, measured, but unmistakably angry. “But this?” He gestures slightly toward where you’re still crouched on the floor. “I saw you. You tripped her on purpose. Just like I know you’re the one who dug your nails into her during the Mexico City show.”

Mina opens her mouth, probably to deny it, but he doesn’t give her the chance.

“I’m not interested in excuses,” he says, now fully standing between the two of you, shielding you without even touching you. “This isn’t just unprofessional. It’s dangerous. You could’ve seriously injured another member of this team.”

There’s a sharp inhale from someone nearby, and Mina’s face drains of color.

“If you think getting her out of the way would earn you the duet, you’re wrong,” Hoseok continues, voice hard. “Even if she were gone, you wouldn’t be next. You are not talented enough to be acting like this.”

The silence is deafening.

“Please leave,” he says. “And pack your things.”

Mina stares at him, stunned, her face flashing through disbelief, anger, then something that almost looks like embarrassment. She waits for someone, anyone, to step in on her behalf.

No one does. Finally, she huffs and storms out, slamming the door behind her. The green room stays quiet for a long beat. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until Hoseok looks down at you, expression softening instantly. He crouches beside you, voice much quieter now.

“You okay?” he asks, gently.

You nod, slowly. Still stunned. Still reeling. But okay.

And maybe, for the first time in a long time, you feel safe.

The show that night feels like flight.

From the second the lights dim and the roar of the crowd rolls through the arena like a wave, something inside you unknots. You aren’t looking over your shoulder. You’re not bracing yourself for a stray elbow or a bruising grip disguised as part of the routine. You don’t have to shrink yourself to avoid drama, you just get to dance.

The stage is yours.

Every movement flows smoother than it ever has, like your body finally trusts the space it occupies. The dancers move together in tight synchronicity, and for once, no one’s energy is off. No side-eyes. No petty tension dragging things down. Just pure rhythm and trust.

When the crowd screams during your first formation, your pulse spikes with something electric, not anxiety, not dread, joy. You smile without thinking, and when you glance at Yunjin, she grins back like hell yeah. You feed off that, let it power you.

By the time you hit the duet, you're flying.

The opening notes cue in, and Hoseok appears beside you in the wings. Just his presence is enough to ground you and set your blood humming. He gives you the briefest glance, not quite a smile, but something almost more intimate. Like a promise.

You take the stage together, and it’s magic.

No missed beats. No second-guessing. Every touch, every shift in weight, every perfectly-timed breath is effortless. When he spins you and catches you again, his hand rests just below your ribs, close to where the wounds once were but not close enough to hurt. Just enough to feel. The crowd eats it up. The screams swell louder with every pass and lift, the flashing lights painting the moment in glittering gold. It’s not just that the show is good, it’s that you feel alive. Untethered and whole.

When the final pose hits and the lights cut to black, you’re breathing hard, grinning through the sweat, your chest heaving. Hoseok’s palm is still pressed against your back, steadying you. You don’t even look at him, but the warmth of his hand is enough.

The crowd roars.

And for the first time since the tour began, you know exactly who you are up there, you, not someone tiptoeing around someone else’s bitterness. Just a dancer. Just you.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The hotel room is quiet except for the soft shuffle of Yunjin rifling through her suitcase. She’s dressed to the nines in heels, leather pants, glitter along her cheekbones. She looks incredible and she knows it.

"You’re seriously not coming?" she asks, turning to face you with one hand on her hip. "We just got rid of the drama queen. You’re telling me you don’t want to celebrate a little?”

You laugh, flopping back onto the bed with an exaggerated groan. “Yunjin, my feet are screaming. I just want to sit in silence, drink water, and maybe cry about how good that show felt.”

She sighs dramatically. “Fine. But you owe me tomorrow night. I expect glitter, heels, and tequila.”

“I promise,” you say, holding up a tired pinky. “Have fun tonight, though. Be chaotic in my honor.”

She grabs her purse, gives you an air kiss, and heads out the door, calling, “Don’t fall asleep in your makeup again!”

You're halfway through digging through your bag, looking for your charger, maybe a snack, who knows, when you see it: a folded square of paper tucked between your spare hair ties and a travel-sized lint roller.

It’s his handwriting. You’d recognize it anywhere after seeing him scribble choreography notes a hundred times.

Text me sometime. - H. xxx-xxx-xxxx

Your heart skips like a scratched CD.

For a few seconds, you just stare at it. Then, with a deep breath and fingers that don't feel entirely your own, you type out a message.

you: hey. it’s me, yn.

The read receipt pops up immediately. Then the typing bubble. Then—

hoseok: hey you wanna come over?

You blink. Your stomach flips.

Your thumbs hover over your screen as you glance toward the door, waiting to make sure Yunjin is really gone. You give it a few minutes just in case she forgot something.

Only after the silence stretches long and certain do you type out:

you: yeah. give me 15

Fifteen minutes of chaos ensue. You brush your hair, freshen up your face, change into something casual but…strategic. A thin tank top that hugs your curves and soft short shorts that ride just a little higher than necessary. You swap out your regular underwear for the nice pair. Not lingerie, but close enough. You glance in the mirror. Presentable. Chill. Not trying too hard.

Totally trying hard.

Your heart pounds the entire walk to his room. When you knock, there’s a beat of silence, and then the door swings open. Hoseok stands there in nothing but a hotel robe, collarbone still glistening. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, flicking down your frame and back up again.

"Hey," he says, soft and slightly breathless, like maybe he wasn’t expecting you to actually show.

Your breath catches.

“Hey,” you say back, trying not to stare.

Then he steps aside, holding the door open a little wider. “Come in.”

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, the hotel robe tied loosely at his waist, revealing a smooth stretch of his collarbone and just a hint of his chest. His hair is damp, like he’s recently showered, and it curls slightly at the ends. The lighting is soft, gold and low, the bedside lamp casting gentle shadows over his features.

You step inside and let the door shut softly behind you, the click oddly loud in the quiet. Hoseok’s room is warm, quiet, and carries the faint scent of his cologne and whatever fabric softener the hotel uses. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, the hotel robe tied loosely at his waist, revealing a smooth stretch of his collarbone and just a hint of his chest. His hair is damp, like he’s recently showered, and it curls slightly at the ends. The lighting is soft, gold and low, the bedside lamp casting gentle shadows over his features.

“I wasn’t sure you’d find the note,” he says, his voice barely above a murmur, like he's not sure if this moment is real. “I felt silly writing it. Kept rewriting the same line, over and over.”

You smile, stepping forward with the easy confidence of someone who’s nervous but determined not to show it. “Of course I found it. You have very recognizable handwriting.” You pause, giving him a once-over, your gaze deliberately slow and teasing. “And I mean…I couldn’t just ignore a personal invitation from someone who looks this good in a bathrobe.”

That earns a soft laugh from him, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners. But then his expression softens, the amusement fading into something a little more vulnerable. “You’re beautiful,” he says, and it feels like more than just a compliment. It lands somewhere deeper. “I’ve been trying not to say that all tour.”

He reaches out and takes your hand, his fingers warm against yours. When you let him guide you, he pulls you gently between his legs, his knees parting so you’re standing right in front of him. The height difference is stark like this, and he tilts his head slightly to look up at you, his eyes tracing your face, your lips, the line of your neck.

For a moment, he just rests his hands on your waist, thumbs brushing along the hem of your tank top, like he’s grounding himself. Then slowly, with almost reverent intent, he leans in and presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is soft at first, exploratory. His mouth moves against yours like a question, like he’s giving you every chance to pull away, but you don’t. Instead, your hands settle on his shoulders, and you press in closer.

He exhales through his nose, deepening the kiss, one of his hands sliding up your spine and the other resting at the small of your back, fingers splayed wide. He pulls you in until your hips are flush against his legs, and the robe parts slightly where your thighs meet his knees. His hand trails down from your spine, skimming the soft fabric of your shorts before curving around to rest again at your waist.

Your body responds instinctively. Melting into him, craving the warmth of his skin, the way his lips shift between gentle and hungry. His other hand leaves your back to tuck a few strands of your hair behind your ear, fingertips brushing your cheek in a way that makes your stomach tighten.

He breaks the kiss only to mouth along your jaw, then down to your neck, and the soft sounds you let out seem to spur him on. But still, it’s unhurried like he’s taking his time, like he wants to memorize you.

“God, you feel so good,” he breathes against your collarbone, his voice hoarse and low. “I’ve wanted this for longer than I should admit.”

Your fingers curl into the loose fabric of his robe, pulling him closer, and he responds immediately, one arm wrapping firmly around your waist, the other sliding under your tank top, his hand warm against your skin, splayed out over your back like he’s trying to hold you in place. You feel him press a kiss just below your ear, then rests his forehead against yours.

When he kisses you again his lips move against yours with slow, deliberate care, but there's a quiet urgency beneath it, too like he’s been holding back for too long and now that he has you here, he doesn’t want to waste a second. You melt into the kiss, fingers curling loosely around the collar of his robe, and when your bodies touch more fully, there’s an electric awareness that crackles just beneath your skin.

His hands trace the curve of your waist, a path he’s followed before on stage, adjusting you during a lift, steadying you mid-turn. But here in the hush of the room, without choreography or lights or a thousand watching eyes, the same touch feels charged. Possessive, even. There’s no need to act like it means nothing anymore.

You gasp softly when his thumb brushes the edge of your shorts, his hand skimming the bare skin of your hip. That’s where he’s held you in rehearsals before, fingers firm, guiding your body into alignment. But this? This is slower. Softer. His fingertips dip beneath the fabric like he’s searching for something sacred there. “Familiar,” he murmurs against your jaw, his lips grazing your skin with each word, “but…different.”

You nod without thinking, breath stuttering as he kisses a line down your throat. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

He hums against your skin, his mouth curving into a smile. “Of course you were. We’re always in sync, huh?”

You laugh, but it’s breathless and unsteady because his hands are already moving again, sliding up your sides, fingers brushing the swell of your chest through the thin fabric of your tank top. He’s careful, almost reverent, but every touch burns. Your whole body aches with the difference between the person who’s caught you mid-air, who’s held you through complex choreography, and the man touching you now with such quiet desire.

“You’ve had your hands on me a hundred times,” you whisper, eyes locking with his, “but it’s never felt like this.”

His lips return to yours, firmer now, more certain. You can feel the moment something shifts in him. The way he deepens the kiss, the way his fingers tighten just a little on your waist, pulling you closer so you’re flush against him. The fabric of his robe parts slightly, and your hands slide beneath it, finding the bare skin of his chest.

You trace the lines of muscle you’ve seen only in glimpses before, during rehearsals, and backstage costume changes, but now, you touch without hesitation, without boundaries. His breath hitches at your touch, and when you glance up at him, his pupils are blown wide, dark and wanting.

He leans his forehead against yours, voice husky. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

You smile, fingers drifting lower down his stomach. “Good.”

He laughs, a soft, husky sound, and kisses you again, deeper this time, his hands wandering, retracing the paths of muscle and memory. The tension between you winds tighter with every slow, deliberate brush of skin. It’s not hurried. It’s not messy. It’s two people who’ve touched a thousand times under the guise of professionalism, finally learning what it means to really touch.

And it’s the most alive you’ve ever felt.

His robe slips lower on his shoulders as you tug gently, palms flat against the warm, bare skin of his chest. The tension hums low and hot between you, and Hoseok’s breath brushes your lips as he breaks the kiss just enough to look at you.

“Still feels a little like a dream,” he murmurs, fingertips ghosting along your spine beneath your tank top, sending shivers through you.

You smile, a little breathless, running your hand slowly down his arm. “Then don’t wake up yet.”

That earns you a crooked smile, boyish and beautiful in a way that makes your stomach flutter. He kisses you again, slow and deep, but his hands move with more confidence now, like he’s no longer asking permission with every pass of his fingers, just learning and memorizing. When he skims the edge of your shorts again, this time it’s with the intention of pulling you closer, pressing you fully between his knees. Your thighs bracket his as his hands slip under your top, feeling the skin he’s only ever glimpsed when costuming ran late or rehearsal left you in a sweat.

He exhales softly, forehead resting against your chest for a moment, his voice muffled as he says, “You’re so soft. So warm. I don’t know how I kept my hands to myself for this long.”

You tilt his chin up, forcing him to meet your eyes. “You were professional,” you whisper, brushing your thumb along his jaw. “But you don’t have to be right now.”

His gaze darkens, hands tightening slightly on your waist. “Don’t tempt me.”

“I think I already have.”

He kisses you again, more eagerly this time, like your words gave him permission to let go, just a little. His hands explore with purpose now, sliding under your top fully, dragging upward along your ribs. The sensation is dizzying. His palms rough from years of dancing, his touch familiar and brand new all at once.

You gasp softly when his thumbs skim just under the swell of your breasts, not quite touching , just teasing. “Hobi,” you breathe, and he lets out a shaky exhale like the sound of his name from your lips does something to him he wasn’t ready for.

“This okay?” he asks, voice thick, lips brushing the corner of your mouth.

You nod, fingers tangling in the open edges of his robe. “Yes. Please.”

That’s all it takes and his mouth is back on yours, hungry now, and you match his pace, letting him tip you back slightly as he shifts higher on the bed, your bodies aligned and pressed close in all the right places. His hands finally cup your chest, drawing a soft whimper from you, and he kisses the sound from your lips, swallowing every sigh like a promise.

Every touch is a contrast. Where he used to be precise and calculated, here he’s bold and greedy. Where his hands used to steady your center of gravity in a spin, now they explore like he wants to find your edges, and where his body used to move with yours in perfect timing for the audience, now it moves for you and only you.

It’s messy. It’s sweet. It’s slow but burning.

And when he finally pulls back for air, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen from kissing, he whispers, “You’ve always been art. I just never thought I’d get to trace the lines this way.”

Your heart stutters. You press your forehead to his and whisper back, “Then don’t stop.”

His breath hitches at your words, not just from the way you say them, soft and sure, but from the way your hands frame his face like he’s something precious. He swallows hard, his eyes flickering over yours like he’s searching for doubt and finding none.

“I won’t,” he murmurs, and then he kisses you again. Deeper this time, not in a rush, but with that same aching certainty that you both feel thrumming beneath your skin.

The kiss grows, building slowly, like a rhythm only the two of you know. His hands trace every dip and curve of your body, familiar landmarks from choreography but now explored with reverence and curiosity. Where his grip once corrected your alignment or steadied your turns, now it’s a slow slide down your back, the press of his palm on the small of your waist drawing you in closer, until there’s no space left at all.

You shift slightly, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his legs, straddling him with ease, your fingers slipping beneath the robe to rest on his bare shoulders. He’s warm beneath your touch, and you lean into it, noses brushing, foreheads nearly touching again.

“This feels… different,” you say quietly, heart pounding.

His thumb brushes over the skin just above the waistband of your shorts. “Because it is.”

He doesn’t say more, but he doesn’t have to. You can feel it in the way he holds you, like he’s afraid this might slip through his fingers if he rushes it. You tilt his face up again, kissing the corner of his mouth, then just below his jaw, and when he exhales, it comes out shaky, his hands fisting lightly in the fabric of your tank top like he’s grounding himself in the moment.

Your lips find him again, slower this time, testing, tasting, and he responds with equal care. Like he’s learning you, not just touching you. His hands roam again, but never in a way that feels rushed or impatient. They settle on your hips, tugging you gently into a deeper kiss that leaves you gasping, flush with want and warmth.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he murmurs into your mouth, words barely there. Are you leaving him so speechless that’s all he can say? Hoseok the incredible lyricist?

You smile against his lips, catching his bottom one gently between your teeth before letting go. “Good.”

He laughs under his breath, soft, breathy, a little disbelieving. “You’ve been driving me crazy since rehearsal one.”

You tilt your head, amusement flickering in your eyes. “Since the first rehearsal, huh?”

He nods, eyes dropping to your lips again. “You walked in like you weren’t even trying to impress anyone. And then you danced like you had nothing to prove. That confidence?” He presses a kiss just beneath your ear. “It wrecked me.”

Your breath catches, and you lean into him, fingers threading through his hair. “You hid it really well.”

He chuckles, hands gripping your hips a little tighter. “Did I? Because I was struggling.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, full and warm and he kisses you again like he wants to capture that sound, that spark between you. It's intimate in a way that makes your pulse race, not just because of the nearness or the tension. But because for the first time, you're seeing Hoseok not just as the dancer, the choreographer, the professional, but as a man who wants you. Who sees you.

Your fingers drift down, slipping beneath the edge of his robe as your mouth trails after them. You press a kiss to the hollow of his throat, then another just above his collarbone. His breathing deepens, one hand sliding to your thigh, the other threading lightly into your hair.

You pull the robe apart a little more, exposing the smooth plane of his chest, the curve of muscle beneath warm, flushed skin. You kiss along his collar, slow and teasing, until you reach the center of his chest. You feel his heart racing beneath your lips.

His hand tightens gently in your hair, not pulling, just holding, grounding himself as your mouth moves lower. You shift slightly in his lap, your tongue flicking against the skin just below his sternum. His head tips back a little, jaw tense, a low sound catching in his throat.

“This okay?” you murmur against his skin, voice breathy but sure.

He nods without hesitation, his voice rough when he says, “Yeah. Yeah, it’s more than okay.”

You continue, slow and unhurried, kissing your way down the defined lines of his torso. Your lips trail lower, slow and deliberate. His skin is warm beneath your mouth, smooth and slightly tense like he’s holding himself back. You smile against him, exhaling softly as you kiss just above the line where his robe parts.

He shifts beneath you, his breath hitching when your fingers ghost along the edges of the fabric, following the trail of faint hair that disappears beneath the soft tie at his waist. Your lips press to that line, just below his navel, feeling the way he twitches at the contact, the way his hand tightens lightly in the bedsheets beside him.

You glance up, catching the dazed look in his eyes. “Still okay?” you ask, your voice a whisper.

He nods, his voice low and rough. “Yeah. You’re…driving me crazy.”

With slow fingers, you untie the knot of his robe, easing it open. He lets you, lifting slightly so you can slip it off completely. Beneath it he is wearing…nothing.

The robe pools at his sides and your eyes take him in, heart hammering at the sight of him laid out for you like this so open, so bare. You kiss along the line of his happy trail, teasing, not rushing, letting him feel the heat of your breath and the care in your touch.

You let your hands explore him with slow confidence, tracing the lines of his hips and the curve of his thighs as if you’re memorizing him by touch alone. He leans back on his elbows, eyes heavy-lidded, watching you with a look that’s equal parts wonder and heat. You’ve danced with him, felt his body move against yours night after night, but this is different. This isn’t choreography, it’s instinct. It’s want.

The gasp that leaves his mouth when you finally wrap your fingers around his cock is truly music to your ears. Your lips follow your hands, pressing soft kisses across his skin, taking your time. The way he breathes, shallow, and uneven, lets you know just how much he’s feeling every light stroke. You test the waters trailing your fingers across his thigh while you add slight pressure to your grip on his girthy length. You’re attentive, learning what makes him gasp, and what makes him whisper your name like it’s a secret too sacred to speak too loud.

You sink to your knees between his legs. He is beautiful like this, unguarded and flushed, his lips slightly parted, and his eyes burning with something that feels like awe. You meet his gaze as you lean in, letting your lips ghost over the sensitive skin of his lower stomach, closer, lower, until you hear the smallest hitch in his breath.

When your mouth finally wraps around him, his whole body jerks despite his effort to relax. His hands fly out gripping the sheets. You take your time, slow and attentive, letting every flick of your tongue, every hollow of your cheeks, every soft hum say what you can’t out loud: that you want him to feel good, to feel cared for, to feel wanted.

One of his hands finds your hair and he doesn’t push, just holds on grounding himself. With ease, despite his size, you take his entire length in your mouth. Hoseok throws his head back against the bed when his tip touches the back of your throat. You sink down further swallowing around his tip until you can feel he’s nearing his peak.

With quick movements you work your mouth up and down his length, his fingers tightening in your hair. His hips lift off the mattress accompanied by a slew of grunts and breathy moans.

“YN, I’m so close. Suck it, please!” He whines, as you continue sucking his cock.

Hoseok tenses as his high approaches and it only takes one more expert hollow of your cheeks before he’s spilling into your mouth. You swallow every drop without a thought making sure he’s looking into your eyes as you do so.

After everything settles, the room feels warmer, quieter. The hum of the city outside is muffled, and the only sounds are the soft breaths you both take. Hoseok’s hand is resting gently on your side, his fingers tracing light, absent patterns on your skin. You both lie there, side by side, the weight of everything that’s passed hanging in the air but not needing to be said.

You feel the heat of his body beside yours, the closeness, the tenderness of the moment. Hoseok shifts a little, pulling you closer, his arm wrapping around you protectively as he tucks you against his chest. It feels easy, natural, like this is where you both are meant to be, even if the world outside might be a little more complicated.

“I wasn’t sure how to do this,” he admits softly, his voice still thick with emotion. “I wasn’t sure if it was the right time, or if you’d even want to...but I couldn’t help it. Being around you, it just feels different.”

You smile gently, resting your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart against your ear making everything feel so much more real. “I get it,” you whisper back, your fingers lightly tracing the outline of his hand on your skin. “Sometimes, it’s hard to know when the right moment is. But this…this feels right.”

His breath hitches slightly, and he squeezes you just a little tighter. The way he holds you, it’s not just out of physical desire. It’s soft, like he wants to protect you, keep you safe in this quiet bubble of understanding.

“I’m glad,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to mess things up. I don’t want to make things weird between us.”

“You haven’t,” you say quickly, lifting your head to meet his eyes. The vulnerability in them makes your heart flutter. “We’re good, Hobi. Whatever this is, it’s good.”

His lips curl into a smile, the relief obvious in his eyes. “You’re something else, you know that?” His voice is light now, teasing but with an underlying affection that’s impossible to ignore.

You chuckle softly, resting your hand on his chest. “I’m just being honest,” you reply with a playful smile, tracing a small patch of skin near his collarbone. “But...I’m glad you feel the same way. We don’t have to rush anything.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, his thumb brushing gently over your arm. “No rush.”

The two of you stay like that for a while, the intimacy between you speaking volumes in the silence. There’s no pressure, no expectation, just the warmth of the moment and the comfort of being together.

Hoseok tilts his head, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m happy you’re here,” he whispers.

You smile, your heart feeling fuller than it has in a long time. “Me too, Hobi. Me too.”

The quiet stretches on, peaceful and warm, until the soft glow of the TV catches your eye.

“Is that…Run BTS?” you ask with a laugh, glancing at the paused screen. Hoseok grins sheepishly.

“I was watching it before you came over. Helps me unwind.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Watching yourself unwind helps you unwind?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, reaching for the remote. “It’s not like that. I like the chaos, and the editing always surprises me. Want to watch?”

You nod, shifting so your head rests more comfortably on his chest, legs tangled beneath the blankets. He presses play, and the familiar jingle rings out, drawing an immediate smile from both of you. It’s one of the older episodes—something chaotic involving fruit, blindfolds, and Seokjin’s scream echoing in the background.

You’re both laughing within minutes.

Hoseok pauses the show every so often to add commentary, who was actually terrified, what didn’t make the cut, the ridiculous inside jokes that carried on for weeks afterward. You soak up each detail, loving the way he lights up with every memory.

At one point, you’re laughing so hard you have to cover your face with the blanket, and Hoseok just watches you, totally enchanted. He doesn’t even try to hide it. When the episode ends and the screen fades to black, the room softens again, quiet and intimate.

You’re lying face-to-face now, close enough to share breath. The way he looks at you, soft, unguarded, pulls the air from your lungs.

“I was thinking…” he begins, voice quiet. He hesitates, then exhales, brushing his fingers along your wrist.

“What?”

“Come to Oakland early. With me.”

You blink. “Early?”

“Yeah. The others aren’t flying in for a few days, but I have a window. I know a house we can rent, somewhere quiet. Just us. We don’t have to hide or explain anything to anyone for a little while.”

You stare at him, stunned, but not in a bad way. Just trying to catch up with how fast your heart is racing.

“Just us?” you ask softly.

He nods, the corner of his mouth pulling into a hopeful smile. “Just us.”

The idea settles in your chest like sunlight through a window, warm, daring, and unfamiliar in the best kind of way.

You nod. “Okay. Let’s go.”

He lets out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding and threads your fingers together. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, over and over again, like he can’t believe you’re really saying yes.

“Okay,” he echoes, quieter this time. “Then it’s a plan.”

You fall asleep like that, wrapped in each other and something that feels dangerously close to hope. The TV glows quietly in the background, but you’re already dreaming of something more.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You slip quietly into your hotel room in San Antonio, trying not to make any noise, but Yunjin’s already wide awake, sitting cross-legged on the bed in her pajamas, arms crossed.

“Where the hell have you been?” she asks, her tone a perfect mix of concern and suspicion.

You freeze, a bit caught off guard, but keep your cool. “I ran into an old friend,” you lie smoothly, setting your bag down by your suitcase. “They realized I was in San Antonio, so we met up.”

Yunjin narrows her eyes, skeptical. “An old friend?”

You nod too quickly. “Yep.”

She stares at you, her brow arching higher when she spots you opening your suitcase and starting to pack. “Okay, and why are you packing? We’re not leaving for like, three more days.”

“I am,” you say, tossing a few shirts in. “I’m flying out early. Gonna spend a couple days with my cousin Soobin in the Bay before we hit Oakland.”

Yunjin’s eyes light up. “Wait—hot cousin Soobin?”

You groan out loud. “Why does everyone call him that?”

“Because he’s hot,” she says plainly, flopping back into the pillows. “Also tall. Didn’t he model for that skincare brand one time?”

“Briefly,” you mutter, trying to keep a straight face while stuffing a pair of jeans into your duffel.

She props herself up on one elbow and watches you for a beat. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m not.”

“You so are, and don’t think I didn’t notice how you didn’t answer any of my texts last night.”

“I was catching up. Lost track of time.”

Yunjin doesn’t press, but her knowing smile lingers. “Fine. Go see Hot Soobin, but if you fall in love with your cousin, I’m not helping you sort through that emotional damage.”

You throw a sock at her.

She cackles and waves you off. “Have fun, don’t get sunburned, and text me if you’re coming back with a whole secret boyfriend.”

You just smile, a little too tight, and zip up your bag. “I’ll let you know.”

As you walk out the door, heart hammering, all you can think about is Hoseok, Oakland, and how you’re suddenly living a secret in plain sight.

You take separate cars to the airport, just like he asked, low-key, no attention, no reason for anyone to suspect anything. The sun is barely up, the horizon still soft with the color of sleep as your rides pull up on opposite ends of a small private terminal just outside of San Antonio.

You clutch your overnight bag a little tighter as you step onto the tarmac. Then you see him. Hoseok, standing just outside the sleek jet with sunglasses on and a coffee in hand, looking like he’s walked straight out of a daydream. The wind tousles his hair a little, and he grins when he sees you, flashing a dimple like a secret meant just for you.

Your steps slow as you take it all in, the shine of the jet, the gentle hum of the engines, the flight crew giving polite nods and treating you like you belong here. You’ve never flown like this before. You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to it.

Hoseok meets you halfway, offering his hand to help you up the stairs. “Good timing,” he says. “We’ll be in the air before the rest of the city’s even awake.”

You glance back over your shoulder at the runway stretching out behind you, still trying to ground yourself in the moment. “This is...wow.”

He squeezes your fingers. “It’s just a plane.”

You shoot him a look. “You say that like it’s a taxi.”

He chuckles and leads you up into the jet, stepping aside so you can get the full view.

It’s pristine. Minimalist luxury. Soft cream leather seats, dark wood paneling, warm lights dimmed to a golden glow. Everything feels quiet. Private. Safe.

There’s no one else aboard, just you, Hoseok, and the pilots, tucked away behind a closed door with frosted windows. It hits you then: this is intentional. This is his way of giving you space, time, and privacy.

You turn slowly, drinking it all in, and when you meet his eyes again, he’s watching you like he’s trying to memorize this moment too.

“Just us?” you ask.

“Just us,” he confirms softly, voice low, warm.

You walk to the plush bench-style seating along the side, setting your bag down and sitting. He follows, sliding in beside you, his knee brushing yours. There’s no press, no rush, just the slow awareness settling in your chest that for the next few hours, it’s only you and him in the sky.

You look out the small oval window, then back at him. “Is it always this quiet?”

“Not always,” he says. “But I wanted this one to be.”

You smile, heart thudding in your throat. “I like it.”

His fingers brush over yours again, gentle, unspoken, and your pulse spikes all over again.

The plane begins to taxi, a soft rumble underfoot as the engines build to a quiet roar. You feel the subtle shift of momentum as it lifts off the runway, climbing into the sky. Hoseok reaches for your hand as the pressure kicks in, fingers intertwining with yours naturally, like they’ve done it a hundred times before.

You glance over and catch him looking at you, his eyes dipping briefly to your neckline before flicking up again with a soft, guilty smile. The air between you grows warmer despite the cool hum of the cabin’s climate control. You settle in beside him on the wide bench, legs curling beneath you slightly, and his arm comes to rest along the back, fingers brushing the top of your shoulder.

“Comfy?” he asks, voice low and full of a private sort of amusement.

You smirk. “Very.”

It’s quiet for a beat. The low hum of the jet, the occasional ding from the cockpit, the softest sound of your breathing.

Then Hoseok shifts a little closer, his thigh pressed to yours now, warm and solid through your skirt. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this relaxed on a flight,” he murmurs, turning toward you more fully. His fingers move to your shoulder, tracing down your arm in a light touch that leaves goosebumps in its wake.

Your breath hitches slightly. “Guess I have that effect.”

He laughs quietly, a rich sound, and then his hand stills just above your knee. “You really do.”

The touch is familiar and new all at once, like the memory of his hands on your waist during rehearsals, guiding your movements with careful precision, except now it’s different. Now there’s no audience. No choreography. Just curiosity and want.

You look at him, caught in the warmth of his gaze and the gentle pull between you. “This isn’t like rehearsal,” you say, voice soft.

“No,” he agrees, his thumb brushing slow circles against your bare thigh. “It’s not.”

He leans in, just slightly, close enough for you to feel the breath of his words on your skin. You tilt your head and your noses nearly brush, the tension stretching and coiling sweetly between you. When his lips finally touch yours, it’s soft and lingering, a slow exploration that deepens by degrees.

The kiss is unhurried but full of promise. His hand slips behind your neck, anchoring you gently as your fingers slide up the front of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his chest beneath. Every inch you touch earns you a quiet, contented sigh that rumbles low in his throat.

You shift a little closer, fitting against him as his other hand traces the outside of your thigh, slow and reverent, like he’s still memorizing the shape of you. When you part again, barely, your foreheads rest together as you catch your breath.

“I could get used to this,” he whispers.

You smile. “We’ve got a few hours.”

You curl in a bit closer to him, your legs draped gently across his lap now, and his arm loops behind your waist like it’s meant to be there. The plane hums steadily around you, but up here, everything feels suspended, like time has slowed just for the two of you.

Hoseok brushes his lips against your forehead and then rests his chin atop your head for a beat. “I don’t think I’ve ever done anything like this before,” he admits quietly.

You glance up at him, curious. “You mean flying a girl out?”

He chuckles softly. “I mean…this. Being this impulsive. Letting myself have something I want.”

Your heart trips a little. “Sooo you wanted this?”

He turns his head slightly so your eyes meet again, and the answer is all over his face before he even speaks. “I’ve wanted you for a while,” he says, voice low and sincere. “But I didn’t know if I was allowed to.”

There’s a slight ache in your chest, something tender and fluttery. You lift a hand to brush your fingers through the hair at his temple. “And now?”

His smile is slow, but sure. “Now I’m trying not to think about rules. Just…what feels right.”

You nod, letting his words settle between you, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his collarbone. “I’ve never done anything like this either,” you admit softly. “Running off with someone. Especially someone like you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Someone like me?”

You smirk. “Charming. Famous. A little too good at body rolls.”

That earns a bright laugh from him, full and warm, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I swear I wasn’t body rolling to seduce you.”

“Mmm, I beg to differ.”

He shakes his head, smiling. “You’re dangerous.”

You lean up, brushing your lips against his again, slow and teasing. “Takes one to know one.”

His hand tightens a little at your hip, grounding you. There’s something unspoken in the air, something bigger than desire. You both feel it. For a long moment, you just sit there like that, tangled up in each other, the outside world forgotten. No stylists. No tour. No rehearsals. Just skin and breath and softness.

Then he murmurs, almost absently, “What do you want this to be?”

You pull back just enough to really look at him, surprised by the question.

“I mean,” he continues, his thumb brushing soothingly against your side, “we don’t have to define it now. I just..want to know how to show up for you.”

Your chest feels tight again, but in a good way this time. Full. Warm.

“I don’t know yet,” you admit honestly. “But I want to find out.”

His smile is quiet but bright. “Yeah. Me too.”

And with that, he pulls you in again, your laughter muffled by another kiss, his hands skimming your back like he’s trying to memorize every curve, every breath. His other hand moves to your thigh, tracing slowly, reverently, until he reaches the edge of your skirt.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your own gaze, a quiet answer, a soft yes. You take his hand and guide it gently beneath the hem of your skirt, skin warming everywhere he touches. Then, with a whisper of a smile, you kiss him again. Deeper this time, needier.

His fingers slide higher, finding the lacy edge of your panties. A sharp exhale leaves his lips against yours when he feels how soft you are. He squeezes the curve of your hip, then your ass, drawing you forward until your chest is flush against his, the heat between you undeniable.

You gasp softly at the pressure, your arms wrapping tighter around his neck, your lips never quite leaving his. Hoseok slips a hand between you quickly dipping his hand into your panties. You grasp his shoulder, sighing against his neck, as his fingers find where you so desperately want him to touch.

He takes his time shifting his touch, not rushed, but exploratory, learning you by feeling alone. Every breath you take turns heavier, every quiet sound you make draws him in further, like he’s intoxicated by the way your body responds to him. Hoseok’s name escapes your lips in a whisper, as he slips long fingers inside of you. His free hand finds the back of your head, stroking your hair, all while continuing to kiss you.

Your breath stutters when at the same moment his lips trail down your jaw, his thumb finds your clit drawing soft, slow circles. You bury your face in his shoulder, and he leans in closer, his hot breath against your ear.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, his voice rough. “You feel like a dream.”

His fingers continue to trace delicate circles that make your body arch instinctively toward him, and his hand slides down to your shoulder blade gripping you just slightly tighter.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he murmurs between soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, your neck. “Every time you look at me like that, every time you move with me onstage, I swear I almost forget the choreography.”

You can’t help the soft laugh that escapes you, your heart clenching at the mix of heat and sweetness in his voice. He grips your hip encouraging you to ride his fingers. Of course, you would do anything for him. You roll your hips forward and he makes an appreciative sound.

“I’ve wanted this,” he admits, almost like a confession. “You. Just like this. For longer than I’ll ever admit out loud.”

Your eyes meet, breathless and warm. You lean in to kiss him again and he hums against your lips, deep and content. Losing yourself in the feeling of his fingers deep inside you is easy. You can’t help the soft noises that fall from your lips encouraging him to keep going. The pleasure is building much quicker than you thought it would. It usually takes your partners quiet some time but with him even looking in his direction makes you feel as if you could—

“God, you’re incredible,” he breathes.

Hoseok lifts your shirt exposing your breasts so he can lay soft kisses on them. He continues this in tandem with his never relenting fingers building and building and building your pleasure. After several minutes he sucks a dark purple mark low on your breast and the absolutely delicious feeling sends you over the edge. Shaking, and whimpering from just how good he feels, Hoseok holds you against his chest. He pats your head and whispers how beautiful you are and that you are so good.

The cabin is quiet except for the low hum of the plane and the muffled sound of your heartbeat still echoing in your ears. You press one last kiss to Hoseok’s jaw before slipping off his lap, smoothing your skirt down with shaky hands. He watches you with a soft, contented smile, one that lingers even as you murmur something about needing the bathroom and disappear behind the narrow door.

Inside, the overhead light is too bright. You stare at your reflection for a long moment, cheeks flushed, hair slightly mussed, lips kiss-bitten. You look…different. Like you’ve crossed some invisible line you can’t uncross. You turn on the faucet, cupping cool water in your palms, pressing it gently to your face. The cold sting helps, but only a little. It doesn’t stop the thoughts from creeping in.

Why you?

It’s not the first time you’ve wondered. Hoseok is well, Hoseok. World-famous. Charismatic. Effortlessly talented. Gorgeous in that infuriating, unfair way. Yet he kisses you like you are the only person who has ever mattered. Touches you like you are something rare.

But the doubt digs in anyway.

Maybe it is just a moment. Maybe it didn’t mean what you want it to mean. Maybe he is just caught up in the tension of the tour, the thrill of secrecy. Maybe this is just another city, another stop—and you’re just part of the scenery.

You grip the edge of the small sink tighter.

No, you think, forcing yourself to breathe. He looked at you like he meant it. He asked what you wanted this to be. He brought you here.

But still…the questions simmer beneath the surface.

What if you get hurt? What if this is temporary for him? What if you're just the distraction?

You dry your hands slowly, your heartbeat steadier now but your chest still heavy. When you finally open the bathroom door, you find Hoseok waiting, already looking up.

“Hey,” he says softly, and there’s something in his voice that makes your pulse trip again. “You okay?”

You nod, a little too quickly. “Yeah. Just…needed a second.”

His brow furrows, just slightly. “You sure?”

You hesitate.

Do you tell him? Or do you keep pretending it’s nothing?

You manage a small smile and nod again, this time more gently. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Hoseok doesn’t press. He just reaches out a hand and tugs you back toward the plush couch, guiding you to sit beside him again. You curl into his side, your cheek resting against the familiar warmth of his chest. His arm wraps around your shoulders, easy and natural, like he was always meant to hold you like this.

For a while, neither of you speaks.

The low rumble of the plane is steady, rhythmic, almost like a heartbeat in the background. You feel his fingers stroke absently along your arm, tracing lazy shapes that make your skin hum. He smells like something faintly spicy and clean, and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to smell it again without thinking of this exact moment.

Still, your thoughts won’t quiet down.

His thumb grazes your shoulder, and you think, Why me?

You’ve been asking yourself since the moment his mouth first met yours. Since the moment he looked at you like he was seeing something precious.

He could have anyone. Absolutely anyone. People throw themselves at him. Beautiful, glamorous, famous people. And yet…here you are. On his private plane. Wrapped in his arms. Feeling like the luckiest person in the world and the most uncertain one at the same time.

You close your eyes, trying to memorize the weight of his arm around you, the steadiness of his breath against your temple. Part of you wants to sink into it completely, to let yourself believe this could be real, that it could mean something. But another part stays curled up inside your chest, tight with the fear that maybe you’re just temporary.

He doesn’t say anything and just holds you closer, brushing his lips against the top of your head so softly it feels like a question. You don’t answer. Not yet. You just breathe him in and try not to get too lost in what it feels like to be chosen…and wonder why it’s so hard to believe you deserve it.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The car pulls up to a small house nestled in a quiet neighborhood just outside Oakland, the kind of place with winding roads and wildflowers sprouting through the cracks in the pavement. It’s unassuming, painted in soft earth tones with a wide front porch and ivy curling along the railings, but there’s something comforting about it. Hidden. Safe. Like the world can’t touch you here.

As soon as the driver opens the trunk, you’re reaching for your suitcase when suddenly—

“Hey!” you squeal, laughing as Hoseok sweeps you into his arms.

He’s already halfway up the steps by the time you protest. “Hobi, seriously! Put me down.”

“Nope,” he grins. “I’m making a memory.”

“You’re being dramatic!”

“I’m being romantic,” he corrects with a wink, nudging open the front door with his hip before stepping inside. “There’s a difference.”

The inside is just as cozy as the outside promised, light wood floors, soft neutral walls, and wide windows that let the golden late-afternoon light spill through. The air smells faintly like lavender and something clean, like freshly laundered sheets.

Hoseok carries you straight to the couch and lowers you gently onto the cushions with a little flourish. “Your chariot has arrived, my lady.”

You laugh again, breathless, as he dashes back out to grab your bags. While he’s gone, you kick off your shoes, pull a throw blanket over your lap, and flip through the streaming options until you land on a movie that’s easy and warm, something nostalgic. By the time he returns, lugging both your suitcase and his into the primary bedroom, you’ve already curled up with a pillow and settled in.

He reappears a few minutes later, a little tousled from the effort, his hoodie slouchy and his hair flopping into his eyes. There’s no makeup, no stylist, no flash or stage lighting—just him. And somehow, it makes your breath catch a little. This is a version of Hoseok the world rarely gets to see. Softer. Gentler.

He drops onto the couch beside you, then shifts so his head lands easily in your lap, one hand reaching for the blanket to tug it over both of you.

“Comfy?” you ask, threading your fingers through his hair.

He hums, low and content. “Mmhmm. You make it comfy.”

You roll your eyes, but your chest warms anyway. His eyes are half-lidded as he watches the screen, but every now and then, you catch him glancing up at you instead. Just watching. Like he still can’t believe you’re really here.

And even with all the noise still stirring in the back of your mind, wondering what this means, you let yourself smile and run your fingers gently through his hair again.

Later you are in the kitchen, which is small but charming, with terracotta tile floors and wooden shelves lined with mismatched mugs and little jar of herbs. You both settle easily into the rhythm of cooking, moving around each other, bumping hips in the narrow space, laughing when Hoseok fumbles with the garlic press like it’s a foreign object.

“You don’t cook much, do you?” you tease, nudging his elbow as he squints down at a recipe on his phone.

“I cook!” he defends, brandishing a wooden spoon. “I just…delegate garlic duty.”

You giggle and reach for the cloves, brushing your fingers against his in the process. He doesn’t pull away. In fact, he lets his hand linger just a second too long. You feel the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth again. He’s not subtle about the way his eyes slide down your neck when you lean forward to stir the pasta, or how he rests a hand on your waist as he steps around you to reach for the olive oil.

It’s warm. Easy. Intimate.

Dinner turns out surprisingly good, cacio e pepe with a simple salad, and you carry your plates to the small round table by the window. There’s soft music playing from his phone, and the sky outside has dimmed into that dusky shade of blue that always feels a little like magic.

You’re halfway through your plate when the lightness starts to unravel inside you. That nagging thread of doubt that’s been tugging at your chest ever since the plane.

Hoseok looks up when you go quiet, chewing slowly. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. It’s fine.”

“Hey,” he says gently, setting his fork down. “You’re not fine.”

You sit there a moment, twisting your napkin in your lap. Then, before you can stop yourself—

“I just…” Your voice falters. “I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what I am to you. I know you said we’d figure it out but…”

He doesn’t speak right away, and that makes your stomach twist harder.

You press on, needing to let it out. “I can’t keep pretending everything’s perfect when part of me is scared you’re just…using me. That I’m some tour fling. That you’ve done this a million times before and I’m just…convenient.”

Silence.

Then, softly, he stands and moves around the table, pulling his chair closer until his knees touch yours. He takes your hands in his, eyes steady and open.

“If all I wanted was sex,” he says slowly, “I could’ve had that in Mexico City. You were right there. We were alone. No one would’ve known.”

Your breath catches, but he squeezes your fingers gently.

“But when I kissed you that night…” He exhales a quiet laugh, almost disbelieving. “I swear to god, it took my breath away. I didn’t expect it to feel like that. And right after I knew, one kiss wasn’t going to be enough. Not with you.”

Your throat tightens.

He leans forward, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “I didn’t fly you out here so we could hook up in a rental house. I did it because I wanted time with you. Away from everything. I care about you. Really care about you. I admire how passionate you are, how hard you work, how you move when you dance. I see how everyone on tour looks at you, how they light up because you’re around.”

You blink fast, trying not to cry.

“I haven’t done this a million times,” he adds, voice softer now. “I’ve never done this before.”

The words hit you like a weight and a balm all at once. He could’ve gotten upset at what you suggested but instead he wiped away any worry plaguing your brain.

Slowly, you reach for his face, cradling his jaw as you lean in. He closes his eyes at your touch, like he’s savoring it.

“I don’t want to be scared anymore,” you whisper.

“Then don’t,” he says. “We’ll figure it out together.”

He pulls you into a hug. It’s tight, grounding, real, and in his arms, the knot in your chest finally begins to loosen.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

After dinner, the kitchen is left in a charming disarray, plates in the sink, a few pasta shells on the counter, and a bottle of wine half-finished beside the stove. You both say you’ll clean up later, but neither of you moves.

Instead, you wander into the living room together, where the couch is still warm from earlier and the movie you put on before dinner is paused on the title screen. Hoseok grabs a blanket from the back of the couch, tossing it over the two of you as you settle in.

He lets you curl up beside him first, and then gently shifts so his head rests in your lap again, just like before. You run your fingers lightly through his hair as the movie begins to play, but your attention never really settles on the screen.

It’s on him. On the way his lashes fan against his cheeks. On the way he hums in contentment when you scratch lightly behind his ear. On the way he looks up at you like you’ve hung the stars.

“You’re staring,” he says eventually, cracking one eye open with a teasing smile.

You smile back. “So are you.”

He grins, then shifts to sit upright, sliding an arm around your waist to bring you closer. You both sit there, curled into each other, the quiet hum of the film in the background and the soft rhythm of your breathing syncing up.

You talk about small things. Favorite comfort foods. Embarrassing stories from rehearsals. The time he almost face-planted during a dance break and saved it with a dramatic spin. You laugh so hard your stomach hurts.

Later now tangled up on the couch, legs across his lap, your fingers absentmindedly thread through his hair as a soft song plays low from his phone speaker. The world feels far away.

He shifts beneath you, one hand gliding along the bare skin of your thigh, just beneath the hem of your oversized sleep shirt. His thumb moves in slow, teasing circles.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says, voice low, gaze on your face like he’s reading every thought.

You hesitate. “Just thinking.”

He waits. Doesn’t press. Just touches you, light as air, patient.

“I guess…” You draw in a breath. “I’m wondering, why me? I mean—” your voice falters as his fingers skim a little higher, “—you could have anyone.”

Hoseok's brows knit together. He shifts so you’re facing him more directly, his hand settling at your waist. “Don’t say that.”

“No,” he says firmly, leaning in, his nose brushing yours. “If I just wanted sex, I wouldn’t have waited. I wouldn’t have brought you here.”

His hand slips under your shirt, splaying warm over your lower back.

“When I kissed you in Mexico City…” His voice drops, almost reverent. “It did something to me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you.”

Your breath catches, your body already reacting to his words, to the heat in his eyes.

“I flew you here because I wanted you, not a moment. Not a fling. Just…you.” he reassures you.

He kisses you then. It is slow, deliberate, claiming. His mouth moves with aching sweetness against yours, and it makes you dizzy. You shift in his lap instinctively, needing more of him, and his hands tighten on your hips.

Your shirt rides up as he pulls you closer, his lips finding the curve of your jaw, then down your neck. He murmurs against your skin, “You’re beautiful. You’re everything.”

You whimper as he mouths over your collarbone, one of his hands sliding higher beneath your shirt, fingers tracing the edge of your bra, teasing but not rushing.

“You’re not just anyone,” he says, voice rough. “You’re the one I can’t stop wanting.”

And in the way he touches you, slow and reverent, in the way his breath hitches when your hips roll into his, it feels true. Real. Like something neither of you expected but are both terrified to lose.

Your fingers curl into Hoseok’s shirt as his mouth returns to yours, this time more urgent, more intent. The kind of kiss that says I’ve wanted this all day. His hands roam with purpose now, one tracing your thigh while the other cradles the back of your neck, pulling you even closer.

He stands, lifting you with him like it’s nothing, and you gasp against his lips. “Hobi—”

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. “Come here.”

You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, clinging to him as he carries you toward the bedroom. You’re breathless, laughing softly against his neck until—

You both freeze in the doorway.

Dangling from one side of the headboard are fuzzy pink handcuffs.

You blink. “Um…do your rental people always provide accessories?”

Hoseok sets you down gently on your feet, eyes wide with mock offense. “Absolutely not. I did not tell them to put those there.”

You smirk, reaching out to give one a little tug. “Mmhmm. Sure you didn’t.”

His hands find your waist again. “I didn’t!”

You glance over your shoulder, giving him a playful smile. “Well…I wouldn’t mind using them.”

His eyes darken instantly, hands tightening on your hips. “Is that so?”

You turn back, wiggling your brows, but before you can say another word, he smacks your ass, firm, fast, and just sharp enough to make you gasp.

“Hey!” you laugh, spinning to face him again.

He just grins. “Keep teasing me like that and you’ll find out exactly how serious I am.”

Your heart skips a beat. The air between you goes molten.

You back toward the bed slowly, never breaking eye contact. “Then maybe you should come show me.”

His mouth twitches, trying not to smile, but it’s hopeless. He steps closer, backing you until your knees hit the mattress and you fall back onto it with a little bounce. You pull him down with you, and the next kiss is nothing like the ones before.

It’s heat and hunger and hands everywhere, his fingers tugging your shirt over your head, your hands sliding beneath the hem of his. You’re both stripping off layers, skin meeting skin, the weight of him pressing into you as he settles between your legs. He leaves momentarily to put on protection then returns.

You gasp into his mouth as his hips settle fully between yours, the heat of him radiating through every place your bodies touch. Seeing him before is nothing compared to the feeling of him against you. His hand slips under the curve of your back, pulling you even closer until there’s not an inch of space left. Kissing him alone has turned you on so much that he slips inside of you easily.

“You feel so good,” he groans against your neck. “So perfect.”

You arch into him, nails dragging along his back. “Don’t stop…”

“I won’t,” he promises, kissing you again—slow and deep, like he’s trying to write it into your bones. “Not tonight.”

The world has narrowed to this bed, this moment and his breath hot against your neck, the rasp of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your collarbone. The motion of his hips is slow, he is letting you feel every inch without needing to rush. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been thinking about this? About you?”

Your fingers tangle in his hair as his lips trail down your chest, pausing to look up at you, his eyes darker now, pupils blown wide with heat. He looks down watching himself push in and out of you before he tilts his head back closing his eyes as he relishes in the feel of you. You bite your bottom lip, already hot from the tension strung tight between you.

“I think about you all the time,” he says, voice low and rough. “The way you laugh. The way you move. That little smirk when you know you’re getting under my skin…”

He thrusts harder and you arch against him involuntarily, and he groans, mouth dragging back up to yours like he can’t stand to be apart for even a second. He feels so good.

“Hobi,” you whisper, trembling under the weight of everything he’s making you feel. “I want this. I want you.”

His hand slides up your thigh again, slowly, memorizing the way your skin feels under his touch.

“You have me,” he says simply. “You’ve had me since the first time you looked at me like you saw something more.”

Hoseok sits up gripping your thighs as he quickens the pace of his strokes pulling sweet moans from your lips. His face is full of expressions you’ve never seen before. Facial expressions that are just for you. His hands wander exploring the beautiful curves of your body.

After several minutes you speak up knowing if you don’t you might not get all that you want. You grip his biceps until he looks into your eyes, halting his motion.

“Please handcuff me to the bed.”

His expression shifts in an instant. His eyes lock on yours, his jaw tightening a bit.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, squeezing your thigh absentmindedly.

You nod, your voice steady. “Please. I trust you.”

His lips curve into something wicked and sweet all at once. Hoseok slips out of you, leaving you with an empty feeling. “Lie back, baby.”

You lie back slowly, heart pounding with anticipation as Hoseok rises from the bed to unclip the handcuffs from the bedpost. The sound of the metal clinking lightly in his hands sends a thrill through your chest. He arranges the pillow around you for support.

He returns to your side, eyes locked on yours with a seriousness that makes your breath catch.

“If anything feels off, you tell me. Right away,” he says, voice low but firm, his fingers brushing your cheek in a way that makes you melt.

You nod, unable to speak just yet, so overwhelmed by the moment, by him. “I will.”

His expression softens just a little. “Good.”

Then his hands are guiding your wrists above your head, the fur-lined cuffs cool against your skin. He fastens them with care, double-checking the fit, and kisses the inside of each wrist as he does.

“You look so good like this,” he murmurs, running a hand down your side, slow and deliberate. “Completely mine.”

You gasp softly, your body arching toward him on instinct, craving more of his touch, his weight, his warmth.

His mouth finds your neck, your collarbone, teeth grazing lightly, followed by a trail of kisses. One hand strokes your hip, the other braced near your shoulder like he’s anchoring you both.

Every look, every movement, is full of reverence but there’s fire in it too, restrained only by his iron self-control. And even though you’re the one restrained, you don’t feel powerless. You feel wanted and craved, adored, devoured by his gaze alone. He ducks between your thighs pushing them against the side of his head for a moment before he licks a bold strip along your folds. Your thighs involuntarily squeeze and he moans against your pussy.

His tongue flicks your most sensitive area and he holds you down, stopping you from arching off the bed. You tug against the cuff wanting to pull his hair but having no way to do so. Being completely at his will is lighting a fire deep inside you. Hoseok licks, kisses and sucks you like it’s his favorite thing he’s ever done.

You shift beneath him, trying to get closer, but your arms don’t budge, caught in the gentle hold of the cuffs. The sensation only heightens your need, every touch, every breath shared between you feeling more intense, more intimate.

He slides back up, settling his weight over you, forearms braced on either side of your head. His nose brushes yours as he whispers, “Tell me what you want.”

You part your lips to answer, but he steals the breath from you with another kiss, deep and slow and consuming, leaving you gasping when he finally pulls back.

“Say it,” he urges, voice rough, “and it’s yours.”

“Make me cum with your mouth, please.”

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before doing as you so nicely asked. He comes back with a new vigor, letting you arch off the bed into his face. Hoseok lets you rub your pussy across his tongue bringing you to new levels of pleasure that sends a shiver up your spine. He hooks your legs over his shoulders, squeezing your soft ass as he brings you to the brink of an orgasm. Then he chuckles looking up at you.

“Hoseok! Please, don’t stop!” You beg, batting your eyelashes at him as you struggle against your restraint. Somehow not being able to touch him is making this far more exhilarating.

He dives back in, lapping his tongue across you until you are shaking and overwhelmed. Once again, he laughs, kissing your thighs before moving beside you. His fingers graze your breasts playing with your nipple for a moment before he sits back against the headboard and unlocks your hands.

Immediately you grab his face pulling him in for a heated kiss as you straddle him, sinking down onto his waiting cock. You don’t give him a second to get acclimated rolling your hips until you earn the sounds you are so desperate to hear. Hoseok grabs your ass after a few seconds holding on while he finds the right rhythm to fuck into you.

“You feel so good.” Hoseok mumbles against your chest.

His lips skim over your chest, slow and deliberate, every kiss sending a jolt of heat spiraling through your core. The steady rhythm of your bodies moving together has you spiraling, the pleasure climbing higher than you ever expected. You’d imagined what it would feel like to be with him, late at night, alone, tangled in sheets, but nothing prepared you for this.

Every movement is purposeful. He reads your body like a language only he understands, every roll of your hips met with a low groan that rumbles in his throat. You use his shoulders for balance, adjusting your angle until you hit that perfect spot that makes your whole body hum. He notices immediately and his breath stutters, his hands tightening on your waist as he murmurs a quiet, “That’s it, just like that.”

Hoseok buries his face against your chest, arms wrapping around you to hold you close. You feel the full strength of him in every motion, every flex of muscle as he drives into you, deep and slow at first, then faster, more urgent. Your hands slide into his hair, desperate to anchor yourself to something, someone, as your breath quickens and your moans fill the air.

“That’s right, baby,” he says between heavy breaths. “You can be as loud as you want here. No one’s around. Just me. Just us.”

When he lifts you slightly, you whimper at the loss, but his eyes are locked on yours, dark and serious in a way that sends your pulse racing. “Turn around.”

You do, your body moving on instinct. Knees sinking into the mattress, you rest your head against the sheets and arch your back, presenting yourself for him without hesitation. It’s bold, it’s vulnerable, but it feels right.

His hands trail down your spine, a gentle graze that makes your breath hitch. Then his fingers slide inside you again, slow, rhythmic strokes that draw soft gasps from your lips, building you up all over again. When he finally presses into you, deeper than before, a shiver runs through your entire body.

The sensation is overwhelming in the best way. This angle hits different. Fuller. More consuming.

“God, you feel…” he doesn’t even finish the sentence, just lets out a deep, unrestrained groan that sets you alight.

“Hoseok,” you moan into the blankets, unable to hold it in. “You feel so good.”

He grips your hips tighter, his rhythm picking up, bodies crashing together in a storm of need and connection. Your breath stutters, your thoughts scatter and in that moment, there’s only this. The heat. The rhythm. The overwhelming sense that something inside you is coming undone, only to be rebuilt by his hands.

The rhythm builds, fast and relentless, until every part of you is burning. Hoseok’s grip on your hips tightens, guiding you back into every deep thrust, your bodies colliding in perfect sync. Your moans mix with his ragged breathing, the sounds echoing in the room like a shared song, raw and unfiltered.

He groans, leaning over you, his chest pressed to your back. His hand slides up your spine, slow and possessive, until he’s got a firm grip in your hair. Not pulling, just holding, grounding you both.

You arch back into him, chasing every spark he’s setting off inside you. “Don’t stop,” you gasp. “Please don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He buries himself deeper, hips snapping against yours, his mouth finding your shoulder to press kisses between quiet curses.

Then his hand slides down your stomach, between your thighs, and the way he touches you there, gentle but purposeful, pulls a strangled cry from your lips. “That’s it,” he murmurs in your ear, lips brushing your skin. “Just like that. Let me take care of you.”

The heat coils tighter, pleasure building at a blinding pace. Your whole body trembles as you near the edge, and Hoseok knows, of course he does. He can feel it in the way you tighten around him, in the way your cries get sharper, breathless.

“Come for me,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

That’s all it takes.

Your whole body seizes with pleasure, white-hot and all-consuming. You fall apart around him, and he follows, hips faltering as he groans your name against your shoulder, holding you like he never wants to let go.

When it’s over, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest, both of you still breathless, skin slick with sweat, hearts racing in unison.

Neither of you speaks at first. There’s no need. The silence between you is soft, full, peaceful in a way that makes your chest ache.

Eventually, he presses a lazy kiss to your shoulder and murmurs, “Still think this is just about sex?”

You laugh, quiet and warm, and turn your head to look at him. “Maybe just really amazing sex.”

He grins. “I’ll take it.”

You rest your forehead against his. “And maybe…something more.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, and the way he looks at you then—like you’re the only thing he wants to see—says it all.

The world feels quieter now.

Your bodies are still tangled together, limbs draped without care, his arm a heavy and comforting weight across your waist. Hoseok’s breathing evens out slowly, his chest rising and falling against your back as he presses a lazy kiss to your shoulder, then nestles in closer, like he can’t quite get enough.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, voice soft and a little hoarse.

You nod, still catching your breath. “More than okay.”

He hums, pleased, and nudges his nose into the curve of your neck. “Good.”

You lie there like that for a while, just existing in the same space, letting the buzz in your veins quiet into something calm. Your fingers trace idle patterns along his forearm, and his thumb strokes your hip under the sheet in a lazy rhythm, like he’s drawing invisible circles of reassurance.

Eventually, you roll onto your side to face him, and he shifts to accommodate you, tucking a hand beneath your cheek and brushing a strand of hair off your forehead. He looks different like this, softer in the warm lamplight, eyes heavy-lidded but shining, a little smile tugging at his lips.

“You always this cuddly after?” you tease, voice light.

He chuckles, nudging your nose with his. “Only with you.”

That makes your heart flutter. You glance down at your fingers curled against his chest, at the way his hand rests so easily on your hip. It feels like something sacred, like maybe this isn’t just a fling or a few stolen nights. It feels like something you might be able to hold onto.

“I like this,” you say quietly. “Just…us.”

His smile grows, slow and tender. “Me too.”

You nuzzle into his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. He pulls the blanket up around you both and hooks a leg around yours like he’s trying to cocoon you in. It’s safe here. It’s simple.

And as your eyes begin to flutter shut, you feel his lips press one last kiss to your temple. “Sleep, baby. I’ve got you.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You wake slowly, the golden morning light spilling in through the curtains. Everything smells faintly of sunshine and sleep, warm skin, fresh sheets, and something delicious drifting in from the kitchen.

You stretch, a little sore in the best way, and sit up just as the bedroom door nudges open. Hoseok walks in with a tray balanced in his hands, wearing nothing but a pair of soft grey sweats that hang low on his hips and a boyish grin.

“Morning, beautiful,” he says, setting the tray on the bed. “I didn’t know your exact coffee order, so I made three different kinds just in case.”

You blink at the mugs, the little stack of pancakes, and the cut-up fruit that looks suspiciously like he arranged it by color. “You’re insane.”

He just laughs and leans over to kiss your forehead. “I’m thorough.”

You giggle and pull him onto the bed beside you, letting your legs tangle beneath the sheets again. He feeds you a strawberry with a dramatic flourish, and you nearly snort your coffee laughing when he pretends to swoon from how cute you are.

“Berry, berry, strawberry.”

You shift the tray so it’s balanced more securely between you and Hoseok, legs tucked beneath the blankets, his thigh pressed warm against yours. He hands you a fork with a little flourish and a wink, like he's your personal chef instead of the global superstar you watched dance under stadium lights just days ago.

“Try that one,” he says, gesturing to the fluffiest stack of pancakes you’ve ever seen. “I added cinnamon and a little nutmeg. Might’ve gone a bit wild.”

You take a bite, still a little dazed by how natural this all feels. “It’s actually insane how good you are at this.”

He raises an eyebrow, grinning. “Cooking?”

“Being perfect,” you mutter around a mouthful of syrupy heaven, cheeks heating slightly.

That makes him laugh, low and warm, and he leans in to kiss the corner of your lips, syrup and all. It’s sweet in every sense. You melt into him a little, like butter under sunlight, your body still buzzing from last night but your heart stealing the show.

Hoseok’s hand slides under the blanket to find your thigh, fingers drawing gentle circles as he rests his head back against the headboard. He closes his eyes, smiling like he’s finally at peace.

“This,” he murmurs, “feels dangerous.”

You glance at him, startled. “Dangerous?”

He opens one eye and looks at you. “Yeah. Like...if I let myself want this too much, I won’t ever want to let it go.”

Your breath catches. The fork stills in your hand.

“Hobi…”

He turns toward you fully now, sitting cross-legged on the bed. The tray gets pushed aside, forgotten for the moment. His eyes are soft but steady, locked on yours.

“I know this started fast. Intense,” he says. “But I don’t want it to be temporary. Not if you don’t.”

The room goes still except for the birds outside and the hum of your own heartbeat.

“I don’t either,” you admit, voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know what it looks like, but…I want more mornings like this. More of you.”

Hoseok reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the backs of his fingers brushing your cheek. “Then we’ll make it happen. One quiet, messy, beautiful morning at a time.”

Later you're curled into Hoseok’s side on the couch, your legs tangled together beneath the throw blanket, the quiet hum of the movie long forgotten. At some point, you remember your phone’s been face-down on the coffee table since you arrived and curiosity wins. You reach for it and unlock the screen.

Three missed messages from Yunjin.

Yunjin: how’s everything with your “cousin” soobin 👀 did you guys go hiking? or were you too “tired” from traveling 🤭 also, me rn (attached is a selfie—she’s glowing, with a flirty pout and a peace sign, captioned: “bored and pretty”)

You stifle a laugh, nudging your phone closer to your chest so Hoseok can’t see. “Yunjin thinks I’m visiting my cousin Soobin.”

Hoseok smirks. “Oh, right. Soobin. What a cool guy. Bet he doesn't kiss you like I do.”

You elbow him lightly, trying not to smile too wide. “Gross.”

“I’m just saying.” He leans in to press a kiss just below your ear. “You’re not fooling anyone. You look way too happy to be hanging with your cousin.”

Before you can tease him back, his phone buzzes on the table. It’s lighting up with an incoming video call: Jungkook.

Hoseok’s whole face brightens as he reaches for it. “Jungkookie!”

He answers immediately, barely giving you time to sit up a little straighter.

Jungkook’s face fills the screen with short hair, a bit flushed, military uniform visible. “HYUNG!” he yells. “Did you tell that dancer you have a crush on that you like her?”

The sound is loud enough for you to hear it crystal clear.

You freeze, mouth slightly open, and slowly turn to look at Hoseok.

He pauses for a beat, then, very calmly, tips the phone so Jungkook can see you sitting beside him.

Jungkook blinks.

Then he grins. “OOOOOH. NO WAY.”

Hoseok groans and scrubs a hand over his face. “Jungkook, why are you like this?”

“I’m just saying!” Jungkook’s practically bouncing in the frame. “You wouldn’t shut up about her after Mexico City. I was starting to think you were gonna write a love letter like it’s 2010 or something.”

You cover your mouth, giggling behind your hand. “This is kind of adorable.”

Jungkook gasps, beaming. “SHE’S COOL TOO?! Hyung, marry her.”

“Bye,” Hoseok says flatly, and hangs up with one dramatic tap.

You both burst out laughing, the tension melting away in an instant.

“So,” you say, poking at him with a smirk. “You have a crush on me?”

He turns to you, eyes soft but playful. “I think that part’s pretty obvious now.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The rest of your time at the rental house slips by like a dream, lazy mornings tangled in warm sheets, late nights filled with laughter, movies you barely finish, and takeout eaten cross-legged on the couch. You cook a few meals together, make a mess in the kitchen, steal kisses between stirring and seasoning, and somehow everything tastes better just because it’s shared.

There are countless kisses, some slow and sleepy, others heated and desperate, and sex that leaves you both breathless and grinning, limbs aching in the best way. But it’s not just the physical closeness. It’s the way Hoseok watches you when you talk, the way he pulls you into his chest during quiet moments, the way you catch yourselves smiling for no reason.

It’s comfort. It’s connection. It’s something neither of you say aloud, but it pulses between you like a secret song.

When it’s finally time to pack up and head to the hotel in Oakland, the mood shifts. You don’t want to let go of this version of yourselves. The one that exists only here, in this quiet, hidden place.

As the car pulls away, Hoseok reaches for your hand and holds it tightly, even though you both know that once you step into the hotel, the rest of the world comes rushing back in. And for now, neither of you says a word about it. You just sit there, fingers intertwined, pretending you can stretch the moment a little longer.

By the time the car pulls up to the hotel, the weight of reality settles in. Hoseok gives your hand one final squeeze before letting go, and you both wordlessly fall into your roles again.

To avoid suspicion, you head out first, slipping through the lobby with your hoodie up and sunglasses on, acting like you just got back from a walk or an errand. Hoseok stays behind to give it some time, knowing he’ll follow later through a different entrance. The shift back into secrecy is jarring. It feels colder somehow, even though the air hasn’t changed.

When you reach your room and push open the door, Yunjin is already inside, sprawled across your bed with a big bottle of iced tea and her phone in hand. The second she sees you, she bolts upright.

“There you are! Oh my god, I’ve been texting you! I thought you got kidnapped or something,” she blurts. “So? How’s Soobin?” She puts extra emphasis on the name, waggling her brows. “And what do you mean you ‘might be off-grid for a bit’? Spill!”

You force a laugh, heading toward your suitcase like you’re just tired. “It was fine,” you say casually. “I’m just exhausted, that’s all.”

But Yunjin is sharp, and you know she won’t be satisfied with vague answers for long.

You start changing into something more comfortable, peeling off your top facing her, and that’s when it happens.

“Hold up.” Her voice cuts through the air like a blade. “What is that?”

You freeze.

“What?” you ask, like you don’t know exactly what she’s talking about.

“That,” she repeats, hopping off the bed and pointing toward your chest. “On your boob! Is that a—ew, is that a hickey?!”

Your eyes widen, and you instinctively cover the mark with your hand, spinning back around. “Yunjin—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” she says, holding up her hands dramatically. “You said you were with Soobin. Your cousin. So how the hell did you end up with a love bite there?!” She squints, then fake-gags. “Oh my god, please tell me you’re not—”

“I wasn’t with Soobin,” you cut in, laughing awkwardly. “Okay? I wasn’t.”

She pauses, staring at you like she’s trying to read the truth straight off your skin. “Then where were you? And who the hell gave you that?”

You hesitate, mouth opening, then closing again.

Yunjin sighs dramatically. “Oh my god, this is so juicy and you’re not telling me anything! You’re killing me!”

You flop onto the bed with a groan, covering your face with a pillow. “I can’t tell you right now.”

She flops beside you, grinning like a cat who just caught a bird. “So you are going to tell me. Just not now.”

“Maybe.” You peek at her from under the pillow, giving her a weak smile. “I’ll let you know when I can.”

She squeals, kicking her feet. “This is so much better than your cousin. I knew something was up. I can’t believe I missed it. But whoever it is…that hickey? Respect.”

You groan again, but you're smiling. Just a little.

Because even with all the chaos, it feels good to be back and to know someone’s still in your corner, even if she doesn’t know the whole truth yet.

Rehearsal at Oakland Arena is intense, but in a good way.

The crew is buzzing with energy, eager to polish every step before showtime. Everyone’s focused, and for the first time in a while, it feels like the entire cast is moving in sync. No drama. No tension. Just the music and the movement.

Well…mostly.

Because Hoseok is different.

Not just in his dancing, which is, as always, razor-sharp and fluid, but in the way he carries himself. There’s a new lightness in him, a softened edge, as though something inside has clicked into place. He’s smiling more. Laughing more. Cracking inside jokes with backup dancers and playfully ribbing the choreographer like he’s got a secret no one else knows.

Everyone notices. You notice most of all.

And it’s torture.

You’re back to being professional, back to pretending your skin doesn’t burn every time he brushes past you. There’s no more lounging on couches or sneaking kisses in the kitchen. You can’t reach for his hand or fall asleep tangled together anymore. Now it’s just side glances and stolen seconds.

During your duet, his hand lingers at your waist just a heartbeat longer than necessary, just long enough to make your breath catch. No one comments on it, but you swear the moment is loaded with all the things you’re not allowed to say anymore.

You catch Hoseok watching you a few times throughout the run-through, his eyes soft and full of something that looks an awful lot like longing. But every time, he looks away before it becomes too obvious.

It doesn’t help that Yunjin’s watching you like a hawk either.

You don’t think she suspects the full truth, but she’s putting pieces together, closer with each passing hour.

Still, not everything is hard. Surprisingly, the mood backstage has shifted since Mina’s departure. There’s a lot less walking on eggshells, and the clique that used to trail after her now floats around with a different energy. It’s more open. Warmer.

After a water break, two of the girls, Eunchae and Yoonchae, pull you aside near the back hallway.

“Hey,” Eunchae says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “We, uh…wanted to say something.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsure where this is going.

“We were kind of—” Yoonchae starts, then sighs. “No, we were total jerks before and it wasn’t cool.”

Eunchae nods. “Mina had a way of…influencing people. But that’s not an excuse.”

You’re too stunned to speak at first.

“We just wanted to say sorry,” Yoonchae finishes. “You didn’t deserve that. And honestly…we’re glad you stayed. You’re killing it out there.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in their voices. “Thanks,” you say slowly. “That means a lot.”

The two girls smile and retreat back to their spots, leaving you standing there with a mix of surprise and cautious relief blooming in your chest.

You glance across the stage where Hoseok’s already looking at you. He smiles softly, and for just a second, it feels like you’re both back in that rental house again. Untouched by the outside world.

After the rehearsal wraps up, Hoseok pulls you aside, his hand brushing lightly against your arm as he leans in with a quiet urgency. "Meet me in my room after Yunjin falls asleep," he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear. There's an unmistakable intensity in his eyes, a silent promise that makes your pulse quicken. "I’ll wait for you."

You nod, your mind racing as you try to focus on the rest of the night. You’ve always had a knack for keeping things under control, but right now, everything feels a little more thrilling. The quiet anticipation in the air is enough to make your heart race in your chest. You can’t deny the pull between you two, even if it’s something neither of you has fully explored yet.

Once rehearsal is over, you head out with the rest of the dancers, keeping it casual as you chat and laugh with them. Dinner is fun, the laughter light, but your thoughts are always drifting back to Hoseok. You eat your fill, savoring the food, but it’s hard to ignore the excitement bubbling under your skin.

Later, after you've said your goodbyes and made your way back to the hotel, you slip into the bathroom for a long, calming shower. The warm water helps soothe the tension that’s built up in your muscles, but it’s not enough to wash away the anticipation. As the steam fills the bathroom, you quickly dry off, then slip into your cutest pajamas, something comfy but still just a little bit sexy.

Feeling a playful thrill, you send Hoseok a cheeky picture of yourself in your pajamas, sending a playful wink his way. It’s a small gesture, but it feels like a promise, a silent communication between the two of you.

His reply comes quickly: "Can't wait to see you."

Hoseok answers the door in a plush white robe, the soft fabric framing his collarbones and falling open just enough to tease bare skin underneath. His eyes light up the second he sees you, and before you can say a word, he pulls you inside, shutting and locking the door behind you in one swift motion.

The second the latch clicks into place, you’re against the door with his hands on your waist, his mouth finding yours like he’s been holding his breath all day just waiting for this moment. The kiss is hungry, messy, full of days of restraint unraveling all at once. His hands slide under your shirt as his lips move with purpose, like he’s trying to make up for every second he has to pretend like you are just another dancer on stage.

“I missed you,” he whispers when he finally pulls back for air, his voice husky and low against your lips.

Your breath catches, heart thudding in your chest. “We were just together this morning,” you say with a laugh, fingers curling into the collar of his robe.

He smirks, brushing his nose against yours. “Doesn’t matter. The second you walked away, I missed you. It’s pathetic.”

You’re about to tell him it’s not that you feel the same way, but he keeps going, his words tumbling out like he can’t stop them now.

“You have no idea how hard it was, watching you today and not being able to touch you. Not being able to kiss you or pull you into my lap between rehearsals. I can be professional, yeah,” he says, sliding a hand up your spine, “but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t thinking about you the entire time.”

The intensity in his gaze makes your knees weak. “What were you thinking about?” you ask, voice quiet, teasing.

A groan rumbles in his chest as he presses you harder into the door. “The way you looked in rehearsal. The way you moved with me. That moment during the duet when you smiled at me like you forgot the whole world existed. I wanted to kiss you right then and there.”

His hands grip your hips, guiding you back toward the bed, step by step, never breaking eye contact. “But I didn’t. Because I know how to behave,” he adds with a grin, leaning in to kiss along your jaw. “Even if every part of me was screaming not to.”

Your heart races as you reach for the belt of his robe, tugging gently. “What about now?”

“Now?” he repeats, voice low and rough. “Now, I don’t have to behave at all.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Every night, without fail, the two of you find your way back to each other. Whether it's slipping out after lights-out or sneaking past quiet hallways, you always end up wrapped in one another—sharing beautiful, sensual moments that leave you breathless. But it's not just physical. You talk for hours, learning the little things that make each other tick, the stories that shaped you, the hopes you’re almost too shy to say out loud.

During the day, it’s all professionalism and poise, but backstage and in quiet corners, you find ways to talk more, flirty words exchanged in passing, small touches behind curtains, kisses stolen in locked rooms when no one’s looking. It’s fun, it’s thrilling, and it’s yours. And through it all, you and Hoseok are happier than you’ve been in a long time.

After the final tour stop in LA, everyone celebrates together, the energy electric and hearts full. The night stretches into the early hours of the morning, laughter spilling out of rooms and echoing down hallways. When it’s finally just the two of you again, you end up in his hotel room, tipsy and glowing.

You dance around the room, music low and lights soft, your movements loose and joyful. Hoseok twirls you clumsily, both of you laughing until you fall into each other’s arms, dizzy with wine and everything you feel.

His arms wrap tightly around you as you stumble into him, your laughter caught between your lips as Hoseok’s mouth finds yours. The kiss is deep and unhurried, a slow burn that says everything words can’t. He kisses you like he’s memorizing the way you taste, like he doesn’t want the night to end.

Your hands wander instinctively, fingers weaving into his hair, tugging him even closer. The music hums in the background, something mellow and dreamy, but all you can hear is the sound of your breath mingling with his, the low rumble of his voice when he whispers your name between kisses.

“God, I missed this,” he murmurs against your lips. “Even when you’re right there…I miss having you like this.”

Your heart flips at the confession, raw and real. You press your forehead to his, nodding, too caught up in the heat between you to form a proper reply. Your hands slide beneath the hem of his shirt, warm skin meeting yours. He helps you pull it over his head in one smooth motion before lifting you off the floor, carrying you toward the bed with ease.

You giggle against his neck, pressing playful kisses along his jaw until he lays you down gently, hovering above you, eyes dark with adoration. His fingers trace slow patterns down your sides, lingering where your skin is most sensitive. Every touch is intentional, teasing, like he’s savoring every second.

“I really care about you,” he says softly, cupping your cheek. “So much.”

You bite your lip, warmth blooming in your chest as you look up at him. “I care about you too,” you whisper back, letting your hands roam down his back, grounding yourself in the moment.

He kisses you again, slower this time, like the words you just exchanged have shifted something between you. There's nothing rushed about the way his lips move against yours, the way his hand cradles your face like you're something precious.

Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, your bodies aligning with practiced ease. The air between you thickens, charged with everything you’ve both been holding back in public, all those moments stolen behind locked doors. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, his breath hitching when your nails lightly trail along his spine.

“You drive me crazy,” he breathes, voice low and wrecked, brushing his nose against yours. “In rehearsals, on stage, backstage, every time I see you and can’t touch you, it makes me want you even more.”

His words light you up from the inside out. You arch up to meet him, lips brushing the shell of his ear as you whisper, “Then touch me now.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

His hands move over you slowly, like he’s trying to map every curve, every sigh. He slips your pajama top over your head, tossing it aside before pausing, eyes roving over you with quiet reverence. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, and it sends a rush of heat straight through you.

The next kiss is all heat, more urgent, more needy, teeth grazing lips and breath mingling in shared gasps. You lose yourselves in each other, in the slow grind of hips and the friction that makes you both tremble. Every touch stokes the fire between you, building the tension higher and higher.

But even in the heat of it all, there’s a tenderness underneath, fingers tangled, foreheads pressed together, eyes locked as though nothing else exists. He slows, pressing a kiss just beneath your jaw, then to your collarbone, then your shoulder. His voice is barely above a whisper when he finally says, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The world quiets.

You blink up at him, heart thudding. Your hand finds his cheek, thumb brushing over his skin as you whisper, “I think I already have.”

He exhales a shaky laugh, full of disbelief and something like wonder. And then he kisses you like he’s saying it again with his mouth, his hands, his whole body.

For a long moment, the only sound is the soft flutter of your combined breaths, as if the world outside has faded into a distant memory. Then, as if drawn by an unspoken promise, you both smile a soft, soulful smile filled with the secret of this precious night.

Slowly, you shift closer, your arms wrapping around him as he holds you even tighter. The heat between you transforms into a quiet, radiant glow that neither time nor distance can dim. There are no promises made aloud, no declarations to the rest of the world just the two of you, sharing a sacred space where passion meets tenderness.

In that moment, everything becomes clear: despite the miles, the rehearsals, and even the challenges of living two lives on stage and off, this connection is real. Unspoken yet undeniable, it’s the start of a love that feels both unexpected and perfectly meant to be.

#suck it #bts fanfic #jung hoseok #jung hoseok fanfic #jung hoseok fic #hoseok fic #hoseok smut #jhope fic #jhope smut #jhope x reader #jhope x you #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #bts x reader #bts smut #bts imagines #bts fic #kpop fic #kpop smut

337 notes · View notes